#i know there's nothing wrong with me and they're missing out on being with me
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While stuff is going down on Sage's Island, what's happening with some of the families of the NRC students?
S.T.Y.X. probably had to be the ones to tell the families the situation. Even though they explain it as lightly as possible so that there's no major panic, that won't stop the families from worrying.
I thought about Deuce's mom after Malleus casted the spell, when Deuce hasn't called her to talk about his day. Her intuition is telling her that something is amiss, but she tries to brush it off even though Deuce has never missed a call.
She sends a good morning text the following day.
She tries calling him an hour later when there's no response. What if he got sick and that's why he hasn't said anything?
But the call immediately goes to voicemail.
Okay, don't panic. She's sure her son must have forgotten to charge his phone (unlikely, a part of her says) or maybe he's deep asleep from being sick.
Dila debates on whether to call the school. She doesn't want to be overprotective or overbearing. . . and yet her mother's intuition is still screaming at her that something isn't right.
It wouldn't hurt to just be sure, right?
Dila's heart sinks when the call to the school immediately goes to voicemail.
The next chance she gets, Dila drives to the Trappola residence. She starts to feel a little ridiculous when Mrs. Trappola answers the door without a single bit of worry. What if it's nothing? But she still asks if Mrs. Trappola has heard from her son.
Mrs. Trappola shakes her head. "No, but he usually talks with his brother a lot. What's up?"
Dila explains how her son hasn't called or texted her and that the call to the school was unsuccessful. "Hmmm... it could be your phone. Let me try calling."
But the same thing happens--the school doesn't pick up. Dila notices something she missed in the beginning: Mrs. Trappola's stiffness beneath a casual mask. Does Mrs. Trappola also feel like something is wrong?
"Hang on, let me try calling his brother."
He's casual when he picks up and tells his mom that Ace hadn't called him last night. But there is a bit of trepidation when he asks, "Is something going on?"
"No, just checking. I'll call you later." Mrs. Trappola lets out a breath and meets Dila's eyes. Both mothers recognize the look in the other's eyes.
"Do you know Clover Bakery?" Dila asks. "Deuce told me that the son of the family who runs it is in the same dorm as him and Ace."
Mrs. Trappola nods. "Ace mentioned him a few times. Trey."
"I'm going to go over there. Want to come with?"
"Give me a second to get my stuff."
Two worried mothers become three, and they're all sitting around a table in the back of the bakery while a father is with the employees at the front. At this point, it's clear that something has happened to their sons and the school.
The three discuss what to do next. Should they try calling the school again? Reach out to the police station? To another family? How about contacting that Diamond kid's family?
But why stop at this part of the world?
Perhaps a while after the sleeping spell is cast, a little heir is wandering the streets pouting because no one is telling him what is going on.
Something has happened to his uncle, that he knows, but he doesn't know just exactly what.
This little heir may bump into an older woman, a grandmother, who asks why he's wandering around on his own so late in the day. He almost cries in frustration while telling her about the adults not telling him anything about his uncle. He lets slip that his uncle goes to Night Raven College.
That makes the grandmother pause, the uneasy feeling inside of her making itself known once again.
She tells the child that his family might be worried about him and eventually persuades him that going home would be a good idea. She escorts him out of the slums, listening to him talk about his uncle, until some guards find the two.
Before the guards escort the little prince back home, the grandmother asks about Night Raven College. Her grandson is a student there and in the same dorm as Leona Kingscholar. The guards reply with an apology and that they have not heard of an incident at the school.
But she stops them. Surely, they must have heard of something. She doesn't miss the fleeting look in one of the guards' eyes--perhaps that woman has a child who goes there too?
That guard tells her partner to go on ahead, and once the prince and his guard are far enough, she tells the grandmother that all communication to the school and Leona--even to anywhere on the island--have been unsuccessful. Other ways of communicating are being sought, but the guard is bracing for the worse.
She tells the grandmother that if she hears anything, she'll come find her.
The parents of four families congregate in Clover Bakery before it opens. It's clear that no one has gotten much sleep. Cups of coffee are handed out as they all take a seat in the bakery's main area.
"Any word?"
"No."
"Actually," Mrs. Trappola says, "my eldest told me that his friend on the Land of Dawning was given an evacuation order alongside every single citizen there."
". . . The entire land?" Mrs. Clover says faintly, disbelieved.
"The entire land." The weight of the words is heavy and they all silently contemplate what the evacuation could mean.
"Doesn't the heir of Briar Valley also go to the school?" Mrs. Diamond asks. "It's possible he might be keeping everyone safe. Plus--" she fixes a bright smile on her face--"our boys have survived two Overblots. What's one more?"
"There's also a magicless student who goes to the school," Mrs. Trappola says. "I heard from Ace that they've gone through multiple Overblots and survived without so much a scratch. If they can stay standing after that kind of disaster, then this should be nothing for them."
". . . I'm sorry, did you say multiple?"
The bell above the door chimes. In steps none other than Mrs. Rosehearts and a man who seems smaller in her presence. It's not missed the way the woman stands stiffly, and in the corner of Dila's eye, she sees Mr. and Mrs. Clover sitting up straighter.
"Is there anything we can help you with?" Mrs. Clover asks. Dila hears a little tremble in her voice as she tries to sound neutral. She meets Mrs. Diamond's eyes across the way and the two share the same thought: there's a strained history between the Rosehearts and Clovers.
That is when Dila remembers a phone call with Deuce early in the school year--Riddle and Trey's past and Riddle's Overblot.
Mrs. Rosehearts takes a deep breath and lets it out in a half-huff. It seems like she's fighting with her pride. "Yes. Have you heard from the school or your sons?"
"No. None of us have."
Mr. Clover gestures to the chairs. "Have a seat."
The man accompanying Mrs. Rosehearts, Mr. Rosehearts, accepts the invitation. However, halfway sitting down, he notices his wife is still standing. "I'm fine. This shouldn't take long," she says.
He blinks, then fully sits. "So, uh, what have we missed?" he asks.
After the two are filled in, Mr. Rosehearts nods sadly while Mrs. Rosehearts's scowl deepens. "So there's nothing." She almost spits out the last word.
"What about you? Have you tried anything?" Mrs. Diamond asks calmly, like the two were acquaintances.
"Of course I have! But nothing worked!" Mrs. Rosehearts shuts her eyes, tightens her grip on her handbag, and tries to calm down from the outburst.
"We both tried calling people we knew on the island, but our calls kept bouncing," Mr. Rosehearts supplies. "I heard about the Land of Dawning evacuation from a friend of mine. They also said that S.T.Y.X. was the one issuing it."
"S.T.Y.X?!" the room explodes.
"They're only involved if there's an Overblot. So does that mean. . . ?" Mr. Clover doesn't dare finish the sentence.
"But what kind of Overblot causes an entire island to be shut down and another island to evacuate?" Dila asks.
"One that can be caused by a powerful mage," Mrs. Trappola softly says.
The room is once again blanketed by horrified and tense silence. Thoughts return to what Mrs. Diamond said earlier. Doesn't the heir of Briar Valley also go to the school?
Mrs. Rosehearts suddenly spins around and marches to the door.
"Where are you going?" her husband asks.
"To the emissary. I will not sit idly and ponder useless things with useless outcomes while my son is in potential danger."
She's halfway through the door when her and everyone's phones go off simultaneously, creating a cacophony of text notification sounds. They're whipped out and Dila holds her breath as she opens the text application.
. . .
Mr. Clover takes off his glasses and rubs his eyes. Mr. Diamond runs a hand through his hair. And Mr. Trappola and Mr. Rosehearts can't stop staring at the message on his phone.
It felt good finally having a confirmation that something was amiss and knowing that a major organization was handling it. At the same, however, it left longing for more information.
"What about my son?!" Mrs. Rosehearts's demand to know her son's well-being felt like a reflection of what the other parents were feeling inside. Anger, worry, helplessness.
Mrs. Clover sits back in her chair with a distant, worried gaze. Mrs. Diamond leans on her husband's shoulder. Mrs. Trappola rubs her face. Mrs. Rosehearts slams the door as she leaves the bakery.
After a few attempts, Dila finally opens the internet application. It brings her to a news article from a while ago, written by a Sage's Island reporter, and at the very top is a picture of her son performing in the Star Sending Ceremony. She can't stop staring at it. What if she never sees him again?
"Deuce. . ."
Meanwhile, in Sunset Savannah, a little prince runs down a street. His head turns wildly, searching for a certain face. Anyone outside pause to stare at him, no doubt curious as to why the heir is here in this neighborhood of all places. He finally spots her leaving a run-down home and sprints the rest of the way.
The grandmother hears him before she sees him. He slows to a stop before her and is panting as he says, "I know what's happening! The island is shut down and some sticks are fixing it!"
"'Some sticks'?" she repeats, puzzled.
He nods feverishly. "Yeah! That's what I heard."
She assumes it's magic-related. "What about the island? Did you hear why it is shut down?"
He goes to answer, but pauses. "Um... I didn't," he says bashfully.
She's disappointed, but doesn't let that show. "That's all right. Thank you for telling me about what you heard."
"Prince Cheka!" Marching down the street is the guard from yesterday. The little prince's ears press down. "Please, notify any of us when you plan to leave the palace," she says, though it sounds more like scolding.
"I'm sorry. I just wanted to let grandmother know about the school."
The guard sighs. "Your parents have already been told and they expect you back soon. I will stand guard beside the house. Let me know when you are ready to return."
"Can you tell grandmother what you know?" Cheka asks. "I saw you talking to her yesterday."
The guard, beneath the stoic exterior, had been impatient to tell the grandmother. "Very well."
She relays the message she, a couple of the other guards, and the queen received. An incident on Sage's Island. . . All travel to Sage's Island and the Land of Dawn are prohibited. . . S.T.Y.X. is currently handling the situation and will notify when the situation has been resolved.
"I am sorry I can't give you more information," the guard says.
Grandma Bucchi shakes her head. "You've given me enough."
She makes her way to a cracked chair and tries not to fall back on it as she sits. "Are you okay?" Cheka asks, approaching as the guard readies herself to help.
"I'm all right," she half lies. She prays to the stars of the coming night that nothing is happening to Ruggie. She already lost her daughter-in-law and son; she cannot lose her grandson.
"He'll figure out a way to survive. He's resourceful," she says, partly as a reminder to herself.
"My uncle might be helping him. They might be helping each other, like the King of Beasts and the hyenas!" Cheka says, brightening.
Grandma Bucchi knows the story well--everyone in Sunset Savannah does. It came to mind when Ruggie told her about his working relationship with Leona, and the thought wasn't lost on Ruggie either.
Perhaps they are helping each other through the danger that has taken hold of the island. "It is possible. My grandson is in the same dorm as your uncle."
A/N: I have been dying to share this with ya'll for a couple of weeks. I also kind of oneshot this XD
#dila spade#mama spades#ace trappola's mom#ace trappola's dad#trey clover's mom#trey clover's dad#riddle rosehearts's mom#riddle roseheart's dad#mama rosehearts#cheka kingscholar#grandma bucchi#anippola#deuce spade's mom#cater diamond's mom#cater diamond's dad#btw the guard who talks with Grandma Bucchi is no one in particular--she just suddenly appeared and I went YES#twst angst#twisted wonderland
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I’m dying for your thoughts on what is going on in Dubai with the triangulation of Armand and Daniel in Dubai because nothing in 2.05 explain ms what they(beddeath vampires) could want him to tell them as referenced earlier in the season or warrant all the Rashid pageantry. Especially not with how Armand looks at Daniel like he just got home from the wars.
Your takes are exquisite and I’d love to hear them.
Ok, I THINK you're asking what the hell is going on with Daniel and Armand and Louis and the longing looks Armand keeps shooting Daniel and I might be missing some nuance to your question but that is the question I'm gonna answer because I can't stop thinking about it.
Ok. Ok, ok, SO!! The biggest question I think we're facing as of 2.05 is did the Devil's Minion chapter of Queen of the Damned ever happen?
For the uninitiated (LOTS of BOOK SPOILERS but like the books have been out for decades, sorry): Louis/Armand is like... not a thing. At least, it's not one of the big love affairs of the series compared to Louis/Lestat. I mean they've had a situationship but they're definitely not a long devoted love affair going right up to the beginning of the events of Vampire Lestat/Queen of the Damned, which is where the show seems to take place. They traveled together for a bit after the events of Interview with the Vampire but then parted ways because What Happened In Paris changed Louis irrevocably.
The big love of Armand's life in the books is Daniel.
And we learn this in the chapter of Queen of the Damned called the Devil's Minion.
Because Armand stumbles upon "The Interviewer" and falls in love and they have this fucked up whirlwind torrid romance where Daniel teaches Armand about the modern world and basically "how to be fascinating" and Daniel begs over and over to be made into a vampire.
Lots of stuff happens between them but short, TRAGIC version is that Armand does make Daniel into a vampire and it breaks Daniel's mind. He's not a cool powerful vampire once he's turned, he's basically a vegetable, he loses his mind and becomes a hollow husk of himself. (Ironically, insane-new-vampire!Daniel is left in the care of Marius of all people lol)
SO, from the book reader perspective, I shot upright on my couch when I saw old Daniel. Because Old Daniel means we're in... some flavor of happy AU? We're in an AU where Armand did the "responsible" thing and didn't give Daniel the Dark Gift, so Daniel got to grow old and actually be a person instead of being the Devil's Minion where Armand became his whole personality and then he lost his mind.
Thing is, since S1, I've been assuming, like others I think, that we're in an AU where the Devil's Minion didn't happen at all. That Daniel did the interview, he and Louis parted ways, and now he's back to finish it. It seemed neat, clear, if a little confusing for book fans because Daniel/Armand is one of THE great love affairs and it seems like it just got skipped entirely, which kind of makes sense since no other film version has really delved into it, right?
WRONG. OK, so with the longing looks that begin RIGHT when Armand finally reveals himself, the whole mic drop moment of "Armand, the love of my life" while Armand stares at Daniel, almost seeming to plead with his eyes "GET ME AWAY FROM HIM" and looking at Daniel with such longing, going into SEASON 2 where we learn that ok, the 1970s beat was WAY more complicated than it seems, Louis' memory is very faulty, Armand has actively tampered with both of them and we DON'T KNOW HOW MUCH....?
So my current theory is: the Devil's Minion DID happen.
Armand and Daniel had their love affair, but instead of turning Daniel, which by the way he had to be talked into doing because of Daniel's suicide attempt basically, Armand set him free. But CLEARLY he continued to stalk and pine after Daniel, if he was there at Daniel's fucking engagement reading his girlfriend's mind enough to tell Daniel what she was really thinking then. Armand was definitely still OBSESSIVELY IN LOVE. And, IMO, has been the whole time.
Now, what does this mean going forward? What do I think is going on?
Armand wants out of his relationship with Louis but he's chronically, pathologically, incapable of breaking up with anyone. He used Lestat to break up the Children of Darkness, he used Louis to break up the Theatre des Vampires, and now he's using Daniel to end this fucked up marriage he and Louis are in.
Armand is doing this first by consenting to renew the interview, Louis gets a walk down memory lane, remembers how much he loves Lestat. Not to solidify their bond with how good things are now, but to break it up with nostalgia.
Armand is also going to reveal things he's hidden from Louis, I think. Like the fact Armand killed Claudia. I think right now they're both operating under the excuse that Santiago and the coven did it in defiance of Armand but that is simply not true, Armand ordered her death to get Louis all to himself. But (book canon) her death broke Louis so basically Armand destroyed what he wanted in Louis in the gaining of him.
Armand also misses Daniel. He's doing the classic passive lover thing, using the next lover to get rid of the current one. That's why he picked Daniel specifically as the vehicle of his liberation. Boy wants to get white knighted in the most fucked up way possible. Evidence: every single painfully longing, puppy dog look he shoots Daniel's way and how those looks only get more intense the more Louis waxes poetic about how great the Loumand relationship is.
Armand appears as Rashid in order to establish for plausible deniability for Louis that he DIDN'T have a relationship with Daniel OR, if Louis knows about it, that he really did do as promised and wiped Daniel's mind. Look, Daniel doesn't even remember him! When he's standing right there! Pretending to be Rashid! He definitely didn't summon his former lover here to break up Louis and him, obviously this is JUST about Louis' desire to do the interview haha, definitely not trying to bring his old ex to break up his current relationship the guy doesn't even remember who he is.
In conclusion: Armand still wants to fuck that boy old man. And he wants to get rid of Louis by making Louis break up with him because that's how Armand rolls. And that's why this whole ridiculous pantomime is happening, because Armand will never, ever be the active party in the breakup because the boy is way, way too fucked up by his supremely fucked up life up to this point to ever be the initiator. Instead he will always, always manipulate those around him to do what he wants.
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hello!!!!1!
This is a free pass for you to talk about anything you want, as much as you want! Exposit! Lore dump! Rant about your interests, or something that irks you! Whatever it is, use this as an excuse! Someone out there is interested in what you have to say (it's us. We're the someone)
...you know what that means gang.
More random Hatchetfield headcanons
- Ted spends a lot of time emailing Pete instead of working because a part of him is paranoid Pete might get hurt at high school.
- Miss Holloway spends a lot of time birdwatching in the mornings.
- Max failed his driver's test twice so he just drives without a license.
- Grace sleeps with a stuffed pink bunny.
- Tom was on the football team with Max’s dad. He was scum and Tom never liked him, he could never explain why but he just rubbed him the wrong way.
- Paul likes iced caramel frappes. He just orders black coffee because it’s easier for Emma.
- Richie is an energy drink junkie.
- Charlotte does yarn crafts (like knitting and crochet and cross stitch and shit) to get her anger out because stabby stabby.
- Barry Swift has ADHD and OCD.
- Gary Goldstein decorates his house like a suburban white mom, those rustic white letters in the kitchen, everything labeled in slightly stretched text, that type of thing.
- Stacy is Becky's niece, and Stacy looks up to her a lot so she became a cheerleader to follow in her aunt's footsteps.
- Ethan actually believes the hat works because he was wearing it the day he met Lex and since then nothing had has happened to him when he wore it
- The people of Hatchetfield hate Clivesdale because Mayor Lauter was born and raised there, and hated it there so much that he convinced the whole town to hate it as well.
- Hailey spends a lot of time watching animal and dinosaur documentaries. She gets attached to the animals quickly and gets really upset when they die. (No this is not me self projecting).
- In human form, Wiggly’s nose scrunches up when he’s angry.
- Ruth as a Sophmore hit on Senior Alice a lot. Alice thought it was funny and she and Deb “adopted” her.
- Hailey and Trevor (Jon’s barbecue monologue’s character from Nerdy Prudes) are cousins. Very random but I think it fits.
- Hailey admires Trevor and his natural talent for performing. In a way, it makes her feel more insecure of herself, seeing her younger cousin be so good at performing, and she sees it as her still not being good enough.
- Wiggly sleeps in sand like a squid. Like literally just buries himself in there, completely submerged.
- Richie can and will ramble about Naruto to some random person on the street if they're willing to listen.
- Grace is secretly a hazbin hotel/helluva boss junkie, she only watches it on library computers though because she wouldn’t be caught dead watching it at home. (Pete caught her watching it once and he had to pinky promise to never tell anyone. They're siblings, your honor).
- No one in Hatchetfield ever said anything about the workin boys being in a gay interracial polycule, not because it was a secret, but because they were football players, and hatred for clivesdale is exponentially more powerful than homophobia.
- Since Lex and Ethan also went to Hatchetfield High, Max would have definitely tried to get it on with Lex, mirroring his thing with Grace but this time the forbidden fruit is that she's a senior and she genuinely doesn't give a flying fuck about him. Imagine a younger, less jacked Max Jägerman in his sophomore year constantly getting his shit rocked by Lex and Ethan every time he tried to shoot his shot.
- Karen Chasity was secretly the most rebellious and incorrigible party girl on the planet. She started dating Mark and her viewpoint changed. She now denies everything she did in highschool.
- Paul and Ted once accidentally kissed at an office party after getting a slight bit too drunk. They have both agreed never to speak of the incident ever again (the one thing they ever agreed on).
- Pete loves horror movies because he’s a special effects geek and Steph lies and says she likes horror movies so she still looks cool but is actually not a fan and the scares almost always get her.
- If the Green-Foster family ever did get to move to California and Lex got to be an actress, her interview attitude would be a lot like Reneé Rapp, in that she barely has a filter. If she ever got asked about why she’ll openly shit talk people in an interview, she’s like “I used to work retail I learned pretty fast that nothing gets done if you keep your mouth shut.”
- No one at CCRP ever knows what to get Paul for work holiday parties so now he owns a bunch of gifted mugs and he's starting to run out of cabinet space because he doesn't want to get rid of anything that was gifted to him.
- Gary unironically refers to Facebook as "the book of faces”
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OK, it's time to tell the story all my friends are on me to tell. . .
I'll start by explaining this blurry photo (as taken by my associate Kaatje). The morning the Southeast exhibition of my Agency opened (at 9:00 am) those of us who had a display booth were asked to be ready for an inspection by the staff beginning at 7:30. The convention center was nice enough to open for us at 5:30. The previous night I had gotten a call from one of the organizers asking if I could be ready by 7:00 and I'm like "Sure!" since I'm a morning person anyway. I arrived at 6:00 dressed as in the photo (it was unusually cold outside for early Spring). As many of you know who have attended these kind of things, the flow when you walk into the arena is usually you go right and the last booth you see are the ones of the far left. Well, I was the far left booth - though it was an unusually large booth. So I should be the last one anybody visits, right? Well, read on.
The lady pictured whose booth was next to mine was an absolute riot - friendly and funny. She's a 6'4" trans lady named Melodee. She and I hit it off immediately: short me with the monster boobs and tall Melodee with the long legs and schlong. We had chatted for maybe 10 minutes when I grabbed my bag to go change (after agreeing to go with her and her trans friends to a bar that night - "they're going to LOVE you!" she said) when suddenly her smile change to a gasp with an OMG look on her face. "What?" I asked.
"It's him, it's Mr. G------! The global CEO!" She acted like she was putting something on a table in her booth when there was actually nothing in her hand. "Be careful," she said quietly. "He's an absolute bastard." Then she exclaimed "And, oh fuck, he's coming this way!"
Melodee was suddenly a nervous wreck. I wasn't sure what to do; I mean, I've fucked my share of wealthy, powerful men and stared down plenty of assholes in the past so I just held on to my bag and smiled as he approached.
As he approached a big smile lit his face. "Good morning, ladies," he said as he got close. "You're Melodee, right?" he said shaking her hand. "What's wrong?" he then asked her shocked face.
"Nothing, sir. I mean I'm just surprised you remember my name," she answered.
"Not at all," he said. "It's important to remember someone's name, and, besides, I hear good things about you. Congratulations!" She blushed and nodded a thank you. He turned to me. "And you must be Miss Marti. I've been dying to meet you!" He reached out his hand and I took it. "Very anxious to meet you indeed," he repeated then bent and kissed my hand. I could see Melodee behind him mouth a long "Wooooow!" in my direction. He turned to Melodee and asked "May I borrow your neighbor for a few minutes?" She nodded and he directed me to the back of my booth.
"But you are at a disadvantage," he said when we turned to face each other. "Here, my name is Bas. Well, Bas G-------. But I won't you to call me Bas," he seemed more nervous than I felt. "It is only fair for me to say that I am the Global CEO of -------------- (my Agency) but I want you to forget that. I am here this morning because I wanted to tell you without others around that I am a huge fan of yours." His eyes roved to my chest, stayed for a few seconds then came back to my face. "Yes, a VERY BIG fan. And I wanted to thank you for all you do for the Agency's business and for my eyes - and, well, other parts, too!"
Where was this asshole Melodee warned me about? He was being very nice and charming. Bas was tall, the same height as Melodee, gray haired, nice looking, and fit, especially for a man in his late 60's. But I was most impressed by how this very wealthy and, in this circle at least, very powerful man only wanted to talk about me. So we had a very pleasant 15 minute talk, we laughed some, he spent a lot of time staring at my breasts - which I enjoyed - and then he had me autograph one of my photos for him.
When he took my hand to say goodbye, he had one last thing to add. "I am, unfortunately, very busy with business this weekend during the show, but I have cleared my lunch time today. Would you join me?" I said "yes" and he beamed, made our lunch plans, then left to spend a bit of time with the other girls and guys who were showing.
When he was away from Melodee and I she grabbed my arm as I left to go change. "Girl," she said. "That man adores you!" I waved her off and went to change.
I'll stop there. More to come!
Marti
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May I request fluffy and romantic headcanons for protective Eclipse (Sun and Moon Show/Lunar and Earth Show) with a clingy female reader with she/her pronouns? <3 please and thank you! Have a lovely day ❤️
×A/N×
Well of course you can! I'm more than happy to write about Eclipse! ^-^
I just adore him! <3
Thank you for requesting and have a wonderful day you too! ❤
×❢ About my work ❢×
fluff, he/they pronouns for Eclipse, fem! Reader, literally no warnings, Eclipse is just being protective about his partner
Requested by: @ssunnybee
Fandom: The Sun and Moon Show
Character(s): Eclipse, You| (Y/N) |The Reader, Dark Sun (mentioned), Bloodmoon (mentioned), Ruin (mentioned), Sun (mentioned), Moon (mentioned), Earth (mentioned)
Ship(s): Eclipse / Reader
Form: Headcanons
[The artwork is not mine! The credit goes to @//kiwi_artz!]
𝑹𝒐𝒎𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒄 𝒉𝒄𝒔 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒑𝒓𝒐𝒕𝒆𝒄𝒕𝒊𝒗𝒆 𝑬𝒄𝒍𝒊𝒑𝒔𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒄𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒚 𝒇𝒆𝒎! 𝑹𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓
• WAIT- before we begin I just want to congratulate about you managed to brought him into a relationship! Good job homie! Okay, no we can start it:
• There are some times that Eclipse gets jealous, however, your health is more important to him than his stupid feelings. Don't get me wrong, he gives you freedom, he won't overreact and he isn't paranormal. It's nothing toxic.
• However, he can get a little overprotective. I mean- do you blame him? Many people left him and betrayed him. He would be alone again without you. He is so happy and greatful that you're here, he doesn't want to lose you (or you to leave him). He also knows that this dimension has a lot of trouble and danger. He just wants to make sure of your safety...
• He usually doesn't let you go on missions. If he does, then he'll be very stubborn to come with you.
• "Leave this one for Sun and Moon, okay? You don't need to be there, hon."
• Also, I don't really recommend to go missions without telling him. You can lose a lot of his trust for you.
• He's not an outgoing guy. He mostly spends his time in his lab, around Earth or in the house of yours two.
• But when it comes to you, he'll be right beside you. (Dude he is in whole f-cking body guard mod/jk) Ruin and Bloodmoon are currently out somewhere and they already kidnapped and hurt others. Do you think it's safe for you to just walk alone around the pizzaplex? No. And don't forget about Dark Sun.
• He's willing to do everything for you. He'll even die like for the fifth time if he has to.
• He often ignores his feelings and he's sarcastic at times, but honestly this just makes him more entertaining.
• "Why did you came after me, Eclipse? I just went to buy a drink."
"Why? Because you didn't came back in atleast 10 minutes and you didn't answer my calls either! That's why! Now let's go back, I have drinks stored away."
• Also, now that I've mentioned calls, don't forget to check his messages! I think Eclipse would be that kind of boyfriend who needs to know where their partner's at. You got home safely? You're stopping by some shop? You'll hang out with someone? Please send a message to him!
• If you're on a trip, he'll call you often and and he'll probably won't be able to stop himself from saying that how muh he missed you (please say it back to him). Also, he might become a bit cuddly and touchy too! Oh, and he'll be very upset if he can't go with you, but he won't show that.
"Aww, were you worried for me this much? You're cute!" You said as you gave him small kisses. He didn't react anything, however, you couldn't ignore the sounds of his fans made — they're probably turning faster to keep Eclipse cool.
"Yeah?! I would gladly see how you would handle it if I was gone!" Eclipse spoke between the kisses as he wrapped his arms around your hips, pulling you more close to him. He clearly missed you, and he just couldn't live without the feeling of your small body against his anymore.
• He doesn't like socializing that much and he is more than tensed if random strangers start to chat with you. He'll become extremely upset and angry if the person doesn't want to leave you alone and they just keep bothering or start to touch your body without your permission. He'll most likely try to keep you close and frown at the person. *sigh* Why they have to be such a creeps...
(At the end please tell him he did good and you feel safer now!)
• He'll come with you, if you take night walks
• If there's something or someone that makes you uncomfortable to come out, he'll more than happy to take you by your hand and reside you
• Like I said, he usually calls you instead of watching you by cameras wherever you go, but if you're at the pizzaplex, where cameras all around the place, he'll use them. Don't get me wrong, he won't stalk you, however he checks them every now and then.
• Since the reader is clingy, I don't think he would mind your clinginess. He loves you very much and he wants to show it.
• However, do not take it too far! If you become too obsessed with him, he won't like that. He wants to be loved like a person, and not being treated by some occupied creep.
Please respect him, and show him affection and patience!
#x reader#eclipse x reader#eclipse x y/n#tsams#the sun and moon show#sams#sun and moon show#tsams eclipse#sams eclipse#sun and moon show eclipse
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#wanting to date and go out with the one person that's basically ignoring you.....😀#i mean he's not ignoring me BUT he's not NOT ignoring me either#and i seriously need to stop trying to get his attention okay? i know#but he's still my crush unfortunately#also i'm aware he just wanted to fuck once lol#i got fucked twice this year by two different guys#and both have ghosted me right after fucking 🤪#i know there's nothing wrong with me and they're missing out on being with me#but that's just me having a somewhat happy day#wait until i'm having a shit day and i can't help but think that i suck at everything and i'm not good/hot enough-#for guys to want to keep fucking me 🤪🤪🤪#but yeah the thing is. i still want him#and i want him BAD#and i'm out of ideas#i don't really feel like getting another tattoo#i mean don't get me wrong i always want a new tattoo i just don't have ideas NOW
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“Kingdom Hearts being an epic slow burn gay romance would be incredibly impactful to people both personally and as a landmark in queer representation by extremely popular and established characters. It has decades of legitimate buildup and has the potential to be both incredibly validating to queer fans everywhere and even possibly sway the minds of those who love the characters but may not have much contact or knowledge of queerness.”
and
“The Kingdom Hearts series is honestly kind of unique in its unabashed emotional sincerity. How it treats friendships and non-romantic bonds as being both extremely important and powerful, never giving the impression that friendship is lesser to romance, is depressingly still somewhat of a rarity in media. This is very important and validating to many, particularly aromantics but also most everyone who is just Tired of how friendships and romance are often presented in tiers of importance.”
are concepts that can and should co-exist.
#like i get it. there really is nothing quite like kh when it comes to how it treats the bonds between characters#and the latter is just as legitimate!#but i do think that the people who argue (in good faith) that kh shouldnt make anyone canon-#-are kind of missing the forest for the trees#(i specify in good faith bc we all know the bad faith ones are just co-opting the argument to hide their homophobia)#(and oh boy are *most* of them in bad faith. but i wanna take a sec to talk about this bc there are good faith ones out there)#and what i mean by that is that... well first of all making one ship canon doesn't invalidate all the other examples of stunning displays of#-the power of friendship#second of all i would like you to consider the framing of this#if no ship becomes canon and it's purely platonic for all the OC's... how is it different from any other kids show with no couples?#in terms of representing friendship as not being less than romance?#it's still not bad don't get me wrong. what i'm saying is that media DOES exist#there are shows and books and games out there where there are no couples to speak of#maybe not terribly common but they're out there#but a slow burn epic gay romance where platonic connections are legitimately just as important and powerful? i sure af havent seen it#sora being in love with riku and still willing to sacrifice himself (TWICE) to save kairi... is that not exactly what you want?#to show that the platonic connection is not lesser? that its just as important?#i dunno i've been turning this over in my brain all afternoon thinking about it#stop talking to yourself flight
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aw man. for a minute there I thought I might be allowed to take Ibuprofen again since I stopped taking the antidepressant that I was on. but sadly no, you're also not supposed to take it when you're on the anxiety medication I'm on 😔
#I guess I could take it anyway... but the leaflet says not to so I won't#this reminds me of thr last qtime I went to the ER because of my stomach pain (that turned out to be gallstones)#before I went there I called the.. idk on call emergency doctor or whatever#and it was this awful awful woman. anyway she said I should just take Ibuprofen so I said I'm not allowed to take that because it's a#blood thinner and I'm not allowed to take those#and she was really mad and said no it's not. it's pain medication 🙄#I was in so much pain and also kind of stunned by her reaction so I just. hung up#like I know it's not. I guess technically considered a blood thinner? but it does increase the risk of bleeding and that's why you can't#take it with certain other meds#which I think is irrelevant tbh. it's pretty clear what I meant and it's kind of. scary that this doctor would tell someone who says they'r#not allowed to take Ibuprofen to take it anyway. especially since I was having extremely bad stomach pain with no known cause at that point#like that feels dangerous#but anyway what do I know (nothing)#I miss Ibuprofen though 😔 I hate paracetamol#personal#cw medical#(also just. generally. being told to 'just take Ibuprofen' when you've already told this person that you've taken a looot of stronger pain#meds already and they're not doing anything at all is just. wow such great advice thank you! so helpful!)#(I mean I'm glad she was useless because that's why I went to the ER and they finally found out what's wrong. but still 🙄)
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they announced one of the main writers for FFXIV: Dawntrail is the one who wrote the Shadowbringers trial series, "Sorrow of Werlyt", and the amount of people going "ew no that's the one that redeems Gaius" drives me kind of insane
That storyline takes Gaius and says "Behold this idiot, watch and be stunned as everything he ever said to anyone turned out to be fucking obviously wrong. Watch as the fascist imperialist philosophy he ingrained into his beloved children makes them run to their deaths, even as he pleads them not to, and they tell him to fuck himself and do it anyway. Marvel as he watches them die by your hand, you, who destroyed Gaius himself at the peak of his life, and he can do nothing to stop it", and that's a redemption arc to people
The only surviving kid only makes it because her brother acts to protect her, she doesn't make it because of any act of Gaius'
The entire story is literally "In case you somehow missed it in ARR and most of Stormblood, everything Gaius believed in was horseshit and there's no such thing as a 'noble general in the evil empire'". All his meritocracy bullshit vanished the second he was gone, no-one but his own children believed it or held onto it, and the empire put someone directly opposed to that belief into his old seat when he vanished. No-one cared, no-one else "believed", the Empire was never about that, it was only propped up in his own singular legion by him being there and the second he was gone the legion dumped it and moved on and only Gaius was too naive and stupid to see it.
I mean for fuck sake, the Empire digs up the chemical gas weapon he explicitly had sealed away and destroyed all record of after he's gone and if it wasn't for a particularly dedicated and enterprising catboy and his comedy crew of hardcore engineers, it would have caused the eighth apocalypse
Even the follow-up in patch 6.4, of the family portrait, isn't some "aw he good now" thing. The family portrait you help organise for him has to have four of its six members be projected onto the scene via a machine's reconstruction of them as normal people because they're dead, they threw their lives away because the ideology Gaius taught them meant they could only think to die fighting and nothing else. That's his loving family portrait: four ghosts stood at his back as his last living child smiles through her pain.
"well the people of Werlyt didn't kill him for conquering them" they let him clean up the mess he made (which meant watching his children be killed) and as "thanks" they're letting him stay there to live out the last third of his life or so attempting to atone by fixing the damage he did.
He's 56 at the time of ARR; the Empire he gave 3-4 decades of his life to is gone, it's a smouldering ruin, all but one of the people he loved is dead, his surviving daughter is scarred by the path he led her down, and what few friends he had are also dead. He learned that his beliefs were all horseshit and pretty much everyone around him except for himself knew it, he must live knowing that those beliefs got his children killed, all that he achieved that he once considered "good" was for nothing, he learned that the cool old emperor he idolised who had no magic but built an empire by pulling up his bootstraps and who told him that magic and gods were bad was actually an ancient incredibly magical sorceror attempting to resurrect his own god.
That's not a redemption arc, he's the most owned man still alive in XIV
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Lando Norris and [Y/n] Wolff are an on-and-off thing, fans think they're all good after [Y/n] releases a song supposedly about Lando, but they forget he's not the only Brit on the grid.
username1 HE LAUGHS AT ALL MY JOKES
↳username2 AND HE SAYS I'M SO AMERICAN
username3 sorry but in which part is y/n american?
↳username1 her mother, Y/m/n Y/l/n, is American and Y/n spent most of her life in the US after Y/m/n and Toto divorced
username3 oooh good to know, thank you!!
username4 I'm so happy to know Y/n and Lando are still together after all
↳username5 But they were never official
username4 But it's obvious! They were seen on dates many times, hanging out around Monaco, not to mention every time Y/n is in the paddock she spends more time in the McLaren garage than Mercedes'
username6 my fav nepo baby <3
username7 damn Lando must be doing a good job lol
username8 Y/n finally released a love song, everybody thank Lando
username9 Weren't there rumours about them being over forever just during the winter break?
↳username10 Toto would find a way to get Lando kicked out of F1 if he ever broke Y/n's heart lmao
username9 What does Toto gotta do with McLaren?
username10 He's rich? Lol
username9 And? Stroll's daddy is rich as well yet he can't make idk Verstappen disappear lol rich doesn't mean he can do anything he wants
username11 Guys I have a bad feeling, we actually haven't seen them together in a long time , I'm afraid they might be actually broken up for good
↳username6 I wouldn't read too much into it, Y/n studies in Monaco so she isn't able to attend races right now
username11 You sure? Y/n hasn't made a single appearance since the season started
username6 The season started in the middle of her uni year lol you ever thought of that?
↳username7 this is literally a love song, how are we even wondering if they broke up? she wouldn't release this if they were done
username6 THIS!! I feel like this song is a confirmation from Y/n that all is good, maybe she was tired of people talking if they're broken up or not
username5 Then why don't they make it official?
username6 that's not a question i can answer
username12 "I'll go anywhere he goes" then why aren't you attending races miss girl? Education can wait
↳username2 lmao it literally can't wait
username13 "the books you read" ma'am, Lando looks like he hasn't touched a single book his whole life
↳username12 And it's not like he dresses that well either, his style is nothing special
· · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·
y/n's texts with Lando
· · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·
username1 All men are the same I swear
↳username2 nooo I swear there are good ones, but that's just not Lando
username3 excuse me sir, y/n has just written a love song about you
username4 NOOOO THE WAY HE PUT HIS HAND ON THE GIRL'S LOWER BACK
↳username1 Him and Y/n are done frfr 😭
username5 Do we know who the girl is?
↳f1gossip Not yet, but I'm sure we'll know in no time
username6 Wtf is wrong with you, it's not her fault Lando can't focus on one woman
username7 But there's no way she didn't know about him and Y/n ;)
username6 There is/was no "Lando and Y/n", they never confirmed a relationship
username8 He's just won in Miami, I was hoping they'd make it official after that :(
↳username9 Sameeee it would be so cool
↳username10 Literally same, it'd be perfect
username11 Lando Norris, you disappoint me again
↳username12 at this point Y/n must be used to that lmao poor girl I hope she finds someone better
username13 WHAT DOES TOTO SAY ABOUT IT?
↳username3 Whats he supposed to say? Y/n is a grown woman, stop treating her like a baby
username14 I swear if we see Y/n back again with him after THIS I'm gonna break some dishes
↳username15 Yeah I hope she'll find some self respect and finally leave his ass
username16 Y/n I beg you to leave him, the d can't be THAT fire
yn_wolff posted on instastory
landonorris replied to your story:
↳mind if i join?
yn_wolff:
yeah lol don't join
landonorris:
i was gonna sail today anyway, what if we do it together?
hey i think i see u thru my window who are u with?
yn_wolff:
with dad and susie
stalker ass creep don't get anywhere near me today
landonorris:
I see another man
who is he?
*seen*
y/n answer me who is he
is that russell?
fucking russell wtf is he doing there
he better keep his hands away from you
what the fuck why are u hugging him
yn_wolff:
i'm hugging george and I'll do something worse if you don't stop with ur stalker shit
landonorris:
what the fuck do you mean y/n
yn_wolff:
don't worry, I'm sure that blonde girl would love to give you a hug, you should go see her
landonorris:
she's just a friend
y/n you're mine
she doesn't mean shit to me
don't show my texts to russell
yn_wolff:
Hello it's George, stop texting my girlfriend or we'll have to tell Toto
landonorris:
girlfriend?
username1 Right after? The Lando thing was yesterday
↳f1gossip Yeah, and this was this morning
username2 Whats Y/n doin with George? 🤨
↳username3 in case you forgot she's y/n WOLFF, the daughter of Mercedes' boss which GR drives for
username4 After seeing Y/n's story I hoped she's finally spending some time with Lando but...
↳username5 Have u seen what Lando posted? 😂
username4 What did he post?
username5 Oh apparently he deleted it already lol it was a story
username5 Anyway he posted like a lowkey thirst trap pic and the music he added was Tumblr girls by g eazy lmao
username4 Boohoo consequences of his own actions catching up
username5 Yeahh and he especially chose the verse that goes like "fucking off and on, always stop and go, probably got someone, choose not to know"
username6 Guys, I say we take in consideration the possibility of 'so american' being about George
landonorris Monaco weekend 🇲🇨☀
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username1 Why do I feel like he posted this just so people think Y/n was there with him even though there's not a single pic of her? 😂
↳username2 Bro why he want her when he can't have her anymore?
username3 get over it, it's your fault
username4 I feel like he's tryna say "Hey guys look, Y/n took these pics" but why would we believe it 💀
↳username1 Exactly!! We all KNOW she most likely spent the day with George
username5 Now all i think about when i see Lando is the story he deleted 😭
↳username6 totally hahah he literally called Y/n a bitch but also admitted that he can't help wanting other girls
username7 Wait when did this happen? When did he say that?
username6 he never said that, it's lyrics of a song he posted but quickly deleted
username5 He immediately regretted hahah
username8 @/maxfewtrell Tell Lando to behave, why are you even helping him with this bullshit?
username9 It's too late, you had your chance FOR HALF A YEAR and still chose to lead Y/n on, now she got someone else and you're being petty
↳username10 She let him lead her on for half a year? Damn it he should pay for her therapy
username9 I feel like she really hoped she can change him but realized "if you can't change the man, change the man"
username10 Very accurate lmao
username11 Guys, I believe Y/n and Lando were a thing for much more time than half a year, it was going on for at least a year, they were just very secretive about it
username9 Well, good for her to finally get out of this shit, she deserves so much better and I hope George will give her that
username1 I bet Toto loves his new son in law
↳username2 He has to be very relieved to know Y/n chose George eventually
username3 We still don't know if they're dating, remember George drives for Mercedes
username4 I really hope Lando is crying rn
username5 Now Lando for sure can't trick us into thinking Y/n was with him lmao
username6 I love George for saving Y/n
username7 I love them, they're all so old money, Y/n and George are a great match
username8 MY DELULU IS BECOMING TRULULU
username9 This is our confirmation that so american is about George
username10 I feel like Y/n upgraded at some point but at one point also downgraded
↳username2 Let's not talk about it, we should be happy for her and George, at least he won't treat her like an option
username11 George is literally THE MAN for Y/n, I'm so glad she finally realized that
↳username12 Chill, let's not assume stuff before we have any statement from them, we all know where assuming can get us
username13 This is my old money dream
username14 HEAR ME OUT but I'd actually love to see George and Y/n get married one day
↳username12 THIS is exactly where assuming can get us
yn_wolff Oh you'll like him, he's really kind andhe's funny like you sometimes, and I found someone I really like maybe for the first time
view all comments
username1 I'm so happy for them I'm gonna cry
lewishamilton Invite me next time!
↳georgerussell63 Toto said it was family only, I'm sorry, Lewis!
↳yn_wolff Ask Ferrari to invite you wtf
username1 lmao only Y/n Wolff can talk to a 7 times world champion like that
username2 YESSSS IT'S OFFICIAL
↳username1 Y/n is officially free from Lando!!
username3 I love the vibes, I love the fact that Y/n is dating a driver from her dad's team, I love the fact that Toto accepts it
↳username4 He must've been going CRAZY when Y/n had the situationship with Lando
username3 Absolutely and I think we all know about Toto's anger issues lol
susie_wolff 💝
↳yn_wolff 🩷
ymn_yln I hope George knows he's welcome in America too 😊
↳yn_wolff Of course!! We have a plane on Friday❤️
↳georgerussell63 I wanted to take Y/n to Miami so we can visit after the GP, but she refused 😔
yn_wolff Shut up I have uni!!
georgerussell63 It can't be more important than me meeting your mum
lilymhe Beautiful couple 😚
↳yn_wolff @/susie_wolff it's about you and dad💕
lilymhe Might as well be 😂
username3 Susie and Toto literally are Y/n and George in like 20 years lmao
alex_albon Finally, no more secrets
↳username2 ALBONO KNEW?
username4 Phew I can't imagine how much stress it was for him 😂
username5 George just MIGHT be the guy which so american is about...
username6 Something about this relationship makes me feel so at peace and I don't even know them in person
charles_leclerc Someone check on Lando😂
↳yn_wolff Charles 💀
username5 Is he wrong tho
username7 I laughed harder than I should've
↳username8 Betting all my money he's regretting all his actions
username9 As he should tbh imagine leading sb on for about a year, people who do this are evil
username8 Yeah, that was so wrong of him
username10 No but I need to know what books George reads tho
landonorris 👍
↳yn_wolff Stalker ass you don't even follow me
↳username4 THE AUDACITY
landonorris I hope you'll have fun while it lasts
↳yn_wolff YOU'RE the one to speak about lasting
↳georgerussell63 Not your place to worry about it🙂
username5 THE EMOJI MAKES IT SO FUNNY FOR NO REASON
username1 "THE WAY YOU DRESS, THE BOOKS YOU READ" he dresses well✅ he looks like he reads✅
username2 He's the perfect man for Y/n frfr
username3 I'm so happy that it's not about Lando after all, I was like girl he's treating you like shit and you write a love song??
username4 I've been waiting for it for YEARS
username5 So they had a thing for no longer than since the end of winter break and already made it official
↳username2 Something Lando couldn't do for almost a whole ass year lmao
username6 But have y'all noticed how obsessed with Y/n Lando is suddenly?
↳username1 of course he is, that's how it works, he's been rejected so his fragile ego is hurt
username3 He's even liking fans' edits of Y/n😭man is manifesting hard but I doubt anything can help him
username7 Good to know George's hands are warmer than hell, they don't look like it
username8 Girlie deserved a man who doesn't have commitment issues aka is a real man, I'm glad she got him
username9 Y'all think Lando reads Y/n x reader fanfics?👀
↳username1 Totally
↳username2 I can imagine it
↳username3 He'll do it until his delulu becomes trululu (it'll never happen🔥)
username10 I'll laugh so hard if now Lando will now stop fooling around with other girls 😂
username11 Can't wait for a whole album full of love songs about him
↳username12 I don't think we'll have to wait for long
#f1 imagine#f1 x reader#f1 fanfic#formula 1 x reader#f1 smau#f1 social media au#george russel x reader#George Russell imagine#George Russell smau#George Russell social media au#Lando Norris x reader#Lando Norris imagine#Lando norris smau#Lando norris social media au
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Do you have any advice/suggestions/requests for non-black members of fandom as far as how to respond to racism in fandom spaces? Obviously we shouldn't be speaking over black voices, but it doesn't seem fair for black members of fandom to have to do all the work of making a fandom space safe and welcoming for themselves.
You are correct! Tbh, these are tips for being a good ally in general:
Amplify Black Voices!
Odds are, whatever manifesto you have in your mind about the injustice of antiblackness in your fandom, a Black fan has already said it multiple times. While I appreciate the sentiment, I must admit I'm salty when I see that people are more supportive of (usually white) voices that discuss my lived experience, over my own voice and my lived experience. What does that really solve? You need to be following Black fans too, that way you're actually in the know when these things are happening.
Don't be a Bystander!
If I'm getting jumped and you (who had the power to help) show up afterwards to say "I really empathized with your pain", I'm not going to think "wow they cared, I'm so grateful". I'm going to think "WOW they really let me get my ass beat!" Same idea with this. That's honestly the most painful part for me; it's not the lone racist themselves, but the hordes of people who back them up, and the rest (some of whom you may even consider a friend) who might disagree but say absolutely nothing.
When you see that a Black peer is being railroaded and you KNOW it's wrong, step tf up! Be willing to say "you're out of pocket for behaving this way, and I will not be supporting you now that I know you're a racist". I will never know you're an ally if you're only an ally in your head! It's the thought that counts, but the action that delivers!!
It's going to be uncomfortable! Stand on it!
If you share that you're against antiblackness in fandom spaces, but next you're reblogging whitewashed art, or an artist known for whitewashed/racist pieces, or still following someone who's made covert/overt antiblack statements, etc. just bc you "enjoy their stuff"... You're not being an ally. Be willing to hold those creators accountable, and when they disappoint you, unfollow them. Be willing to tell your friends, "hey, that person did/said this thing that was anti-black and were unapologetic about it". And if your friends don't care? Now you know who's around you. I'm not saying it's easy, but... Do you stand on business, or would you rather allow racism so that you can stay comfortable? Because your Black peers have to live under this discomfort you're only momentarily experiencing. It's far harder for me to approach these people and hold them accountable. And if I see that you're still kicking it with known antiblack racists... I'm probably not going to assume highly of you, either.
Educate yourself on what these aggressions look like!
You might not know what to look for, and if you don't, you're gonna miss a lot. What is actually antiblackness will often be posited as "drama" or "fandom wank". Or, if they're really trying to sound progressive, it'll reveal itself as dogwhistles in other important topics like queer representation or misogyny (e.g. how white women often claim misogyny when confronted with their racism, or TERFs). That's how it gets swept under the rug. Learn to recognize microaggressions, learn to recognize the signs. It requires work! Listen to and believe your Black peers when they explain what they saw! Bc trust, once you see it... You'll realize there's a lot of it lmao. And that's what many fans are afraid of confronting.
That's what I have for now, if anyone else has anything to offer. 👍🏾 Thanks for asking!
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silent treatment
words: 900
warnings: drug dealer rafe, established relationship, arguing but its very fluffy throughout and never actually serious
taglist: @drewstarkeyslut @thelomlisrafecameron @f4ll-for-you @dilvcv @winterrrnight @drudyslut @drewsbabygirll @jjmaybankswifes-blog @rafescokenostril @jjsmarijuana @jjmaybankisbae @seeingstarks @angelofcigs @cece45450 @babygorewhore @vanessa-rafesgirl
“rafey, are you almost done?” you ask, causing him to turn his head to look at you for the first time since you both entered the party and parted ways for rafe to do business.
“come here, baby.” rafe beckons you closer, so you cross the line of people waiting and take a seat on the couch next to rafe. “what's wrong?”
“nothing's wrong, i just miss you.” you pout, lacing your fingers through rafes. “i know you're selling right now but i thought we would be able to hang out tonight.”
rafe looks at the line of people waiting, then down at his stash. “im almost sold out, yeah? think you can wait ten more minutes?”
“can i sit here?” you ask, and when rafe nods you curl up against his side. he has to shake your hand loose as the next person walks up, buying some drugs that rafe would never in his life let you touch, but had no problem selling to other people.
you busy yourself with playing with a loose strand on rafes shorts as the packets in front of him dwindle down to only one small baggie of white powder left. rafe pockets it, shooing the rest of the people waiting away, telling them to come find him at the next party.
just when rafe finishes counting the money and you expect to get up and actually enjoy the party with your boyfriend, barry takes a seat on the armchair across from you.
“how was tonight?” he asks.
“sold it all, kept a baggie for myself.” rafe splits the money and hands most of it to barry for getting him the supply, pocketing the rest for himself.
“im getting a new shipment in tuesday-” you stop listening as they start to talk business again, linking your hand with rafes and rubbing your thumb over the back of his hand. you begin to stroke his arm with your other hand, craving any sort of attention from him.
“baby, stop, you're distracting me.” rafe says, pulling his hand out of your grip.
“sorry.” you whisper, looking between barry and rafe, wondering how much longer they're going to take.
“can i sit on your lap?” you ask, knowing rafe doesn't care about others seeing your pda so he shouldn't mind, he's let you sit on his lap in the past, he's even pulled you onto it himself.
rafe sighs, rubbing his forehead before sitting back, pulling you onto his knee so you're purched on the edge.
you groan, knowing that this isn't what you asked for as you turn to frown at rafe.
“baby, why are you being so clingy tonight?” rafe asks, pulling you by your waist into him so your side is pressed against his chest.
“im not.” you pout, crossing your arms over your chest.
“yeah, you definitely are. won't even let me talk to barry for ten minutes without getting all whiney.” rafe says, a small smile on his face, but it doesn't placate you, it just annoys you.
you stand up, moving away from rafe and leaving him to do whatever the fuck he wants with barry.
--
“baby, you didn't talk to me all night, please don't give me the silent treatment again today too.” rafe says, attempting to press a kiss to your shoulder, but you just move away to continue making pancakes. rafe keeps his eyes on you as you move about the kitchen.
you plate your pancakes, leaving the rest for rafe to get himself if he wants them and walk into the dining room. you're glad for the music you put on to drown out the silence at rafe sits across the table with his own plate.
you eat without looking up at him, somehow able to keep yourself quiet.
“so you're giving me the silent treatment but still made enough pancakes for me?” rafe asks.
you simply shrug, getting up to finish your pancakes in the kitchen.
“here, let me do the dishes.” rafe comes barging into the kitchen, interrupting you from beginning to clean. you simply shrug and walk away, not even giving him a thank you. you listen to him start to clean up, snickering silently at his grumblings to himself before heading upstairs to get changed.
“what are your plans for today?” rafe asks when you reemerge downstairs, wearing a simple outfit of leggings and a t-shirt. you give rafe a pointed look, one to reinforce the fact that you are not speaking to him before walking away.
rafe leaves you alone for a few hours when he is in the home gym working out. you peak through the glass doors a few times to admire his sweat sheened muscles, but don't let him catch you and go back to scrolling on your phone on the couch when he starts to clean up.
“im gonna go shower.” rafe calls as he passes through the living room. “care to join me?”
“no.” you call back.
you hear rafe stop in his tracks, halting and turning back to face you. “you just talked to me.”
“that doesn't cou-AHHH!” you shout as rafe jumps over the couch, dropping his body over yours as he presses kisses to your face, your phone long forgotten as it falls to the floor.
“im still mad at you, fuck off.” you say, but giggle the entire time, unable to resist his kisses.
“baby, you can tell me to fuck off or that you're mad all you want, just never ever give me the silent treatment again, i was going crazy.” rafe presses your lips together in a kiss and you give in, wrapping your arms around his shoulders.
“it sounds like you're the clingy one now.” you grin at him.
“absolutely.” rafe nods in agreement.
#rafe cameron imagine#rafe cameron fic#rafe fic#rafe cameron fanfic#rafe x reader#rafe cameron x reader#rafe cameron fanfiction#rafe fanfic#rafe cameron x you#rafe cameron one shot#rafe fluff#rafe cameron fluffy
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Taunt
obviously, i feel very normal and chill about ewan's new performance in saltburn. anyways lmao this is my version of michael gavey from the vibes i got from him in the 5 seconds he's in the trailer! i have no idea if this is accurate to how he is truly portrayed in the movie! if the movie comes out and i'm totally wrong, then i don't care bc i got to have fun writing about a cheeky lil oxford student!!
summary: you're nearly failing statistics and the student your professor asks to tutor you seems to gain a sick satisfaction from seeing you squirm; he hates you...or so think.
pairing: michael gavey x reader
warnings: mature, 18+ (minors, do not enter!!!) no use of Y/N, afab reader, profanity, smut, piv smut, fingering, oral sex (m receiving), dom/sub, brief daddy kink (literally one mention), dirty talk, dumbification, humiliation (only a bit), size kink if you squint, mild angst but happy ending, choking i guess (barely), public sex (they're alone but like it's still public lmao), brief discussions of math -- please let me know if i missed anything!
word count: 10.5k (dear lord)
a/n: baby's first fic omg! if you enjoy this one and want to see more from me, please feel free to send in requests! (GoT, HoTD, Stranger Things, Marvel, etc!)
PRAISE | Taunt Part 2
MAKING AMENDS | Bonus
likes, comments, & reblogs are very appreciated but never required!
🌟add yourself to my taglist to be notified when i post new fics!🌟
“Right, so,” Professor Davies began, pulling a thick textbook off the shelf next to his desk, “Since we’ve only just returned from Easter holiday, I thought I’d go easy on you today.”
A few quiet groans could be heard around the room, a couple students turning to look at one another with grimaces; in the few weeks you’ve been in Professor Davies’s class, he’s never once gone easy on you. With a small sigh, you shuffle through your spiral notebook until you come to a blank page.
“D’you think you’ll go to the party this weekend?” Louise whispers, leaning over closer to you as she twirls a pen around in her fingers, “I heard this one is supposed to be fucking insane.”
“Like any of Felix’s parties aren’t insane?” You whisper back, smirking as you doodle a small flower on the corner of a page of paper, “Of course I’ll be there,” you murmur, watching as Professor Davies writes an intricate formula on the chalkboard, “I could really use a break, anyway…I’ve been so stressed recently.”
“Christ…” A boy, in the row of desks in front of you scoffs, just barely shaking his head as he copies down the formula, his handwriting sharp and choppy. You feel blood rush to your cheeks as you narrow your eyes, staring intently at his sandy hair. You didn’t really know him, this being your only class with him, but you’d seen him around campus, regularly passing by him in the halls. Oxford may be a large university, but when you’re on campus everyday, you begin recognizing familiar faces.
He didn’t run in the same crowds as you at all, and you got the distinct impression that he looked down on you and the rest of your friends, but you knew his name – Michael and that he was incredibly smart, his hand promptly shooting into the air anytime Professor Davies asked a question. In the few weeks you’d been in the same statistics class, you had yet to see him get a question wrong, watching as he grinned, cocky, everytime he was praised for correctly solving even the most intricate of formulas.
You, on the other hand, couldn’t be more the opposite, always shying away and praying not to hear Professor Davies call your name in his deep, baritone voice every time his eyes scanned the crowd, looking for a volunteer, or victim, more like. While Michael clearly enjoyed the class, practically glowing with an arrogant confidence as soon as he walked into the wood paneled lecture hall, you were simply here to check it off as a requirement of your major, hoping to survive the class with a C and nothing more.
It was annoying, you wouldn’t deny that, the way that smug smirk seemed to be permanently etched onto his face, how that stupid taunting glimmer was an ever-present fixture of his blue eyes — blue eyes which, seemingly, always managed to find their way to you, one way or another.
His attention was intimidating at first, his cold stare leaving you unsure of what exactly his intention was. Was he trying to challenge you? Trying to determine if he knew you from somewhere else? A small part of you, a naive part, hoped that his staring was meant to be affectionate; he was cute, you’d admit it! Always showing up to class in cozy knit sweaters, his wavy hair still ruffled and untidy as if he’d just gotten out of bed, gold rimmed glasses perched atop a strong nose.
You quickly tear your gaze away from the back of Michael’s head, biting your bottom lip as you begin copying down the problem on the chalkboard, pausing briefly when you see, from the corner of your eye, his head turn as he glances at you over his shoulder. You felt your cheeks flush despite yourself, that small, sanguine voice in the back of your head cheering.
“Now, then,” Professor Davies booms, dropping the textbook down on his desk with a cacophonous thud before sweeping his eyes across the classroom, “A bit of review before we really dive in…” He continues, pacing around the front of the room as he explains the various parts and pieces of the equation on the board.
“What do you think you’ll wear?” Louise asks, leaning over once more to whisper in your ear, you can smell her signature floral perfume on her hair, “I was thinking I’d do that new blue-ish dress I got, you know, the strappy one?”
“Might still be too cold for strappy,” you whisper back, half listening to the professor drone on as you continue doodling on your paper, pausing every few minutes to jot down a few haphazard notes, “I was just thinking I’d do a jumper, probably a skirt and tights–”
Suddenly, you hear Professor Davies call your name, your cheeks practically stinging as blood rushes to your face. Sitting up straighter, you finally find the courage to meet his stern gaze, “Since you seem all too eager to share your thoughts,” He continues slowly stalking towards you across wooden floorboards that softly creak beneath his feet, “Would you care to enlighten us with the solution to the quadratic equation on the board?” He comes to a stop, hands clasped behind his back as he patiently waits for you to answer, a small, knowing smile poised on his lips.
“I– uhm, well,” you stutter, glancing back and forth between your barely there notes and the chalkboard, throat growing tighter as you feel everyone's eyes on you, “Don’t you need to solve for G first?”
“And how would you go about doing that?”
“Well, you would…” You trail off, desperately trying to remember the lessons you’d had before Easter holiday, absentmindedly picking at your cuticle as you pray to be anywhere but here or for a hole to open in the floor and swallow you whole, “I…I don’t recall, professor. I’m sorry.” You finally say, not being able to meet his gaze as you stare intently at your lap, desperately willing yourself not to cry, even as you feel your eyes stinging.
“Perhaps, in the future, it would be of benefit to socialize with your friends outside of my classroom.” Professor Davies admonishes, giving a sharp glare to Louise as well, who manages an apologetic smile.
“Yes, Professor.” You whisper, keeping your eyes downturned.
Finally, you hear the floorboards softly creaking once more as Professor Davies makes his way back up to the podium at the front of the room and once again resumes his lecture. You can’t help but pause for a second when you hear a small snicker from the tall boy in front of you, sensing as he peers at you over his shoulder once again.
“Would anyone else like to take a crack at the problem on the board?” Professor Davies asks, leaning against the old, worn podium at the front of the room. Like clockwork, Michael’s hand shoots into the air. Somehow, that makes you blush even harder.
Eventually, Professor Davies finishes his lecture and retrieves his dark leather briefcase from under the desk, pulling a thick stack of papers out and sitting them on the podium, leaning over it with a sigh, “I have your tests graded. Most of you did very well, you should be pleased with yourselves. Some of you, however,” He says pointedly, “Could benefit greatly from a closer study of the material.”
Slowly, he walks around the room passing back tests, throwing out a comment here and there as he did so. You already know you hadn't done well on that particular test and dread getting it back and confirming your suspicions, so you keep yourself busy, choosing to meticulously pack up your things instead.
“Mr. Gavey,” he said a few feet away from you, papers rustling as he slid the test across the wooden surface of the long bench desks, “Once more, an outstanding job! Top of the class, keep it up.”
“Thank you, Professor,” you glance up, watching as he takes the paper with a humble nod, that same, oh-so pleased smile gracing his angular face. He must sense you looking at him and quickly shifts his gaze in your direction, eyes glimmering with self-satisfaction behind his gold-rimmed glasses as his smile quickly turns into a smirk. Finally, you tear your gaze away from his with a small, bewildered huff. Why did he seem to get so much satisfaction from besting you, of all people? It’s not like you were exactly an academic threat.
“Ms. Bickerstaff,” Professor Davies says, finally appearing next to the table you and Louise sat at, “Not bad, a bit more effort next time and you’re sure to be on track,” he remarks, sliding her paper across the desk. Louise thanks him with a small smile as she flips through her test, eyes scanning over his marks.
Finally, Professor Davies stands before you once again, your paper the very last in his hands. You hear him mutter your last name before he slides the paper across the desk to you, and you can’t help but deflate as you see your grade; you knew it would be bad, but that? How on Earth were you going to recover your average? What if you had to retake the whole course? What if you failed out of Oxford entirely? Your parents had sacrificed so much to help you get here, spending years and untold amounts of money on private tutors and extracurricular materials, all to help you have an impressive application! Not to mention the money just for the course fees! Unlike most of your friends, you didn’t come from piles and piles of money and status – your family was alright, sure, but you were definitely several tax brackets below them.
As your thoughts spiraled, you felt Louise elbow you in the side at the same time you heard Professor Davies address you again. Shaking your head to clear your scattered thoughts, you clear your throat and finally turn to look up at him, “Sorry, yes, Professor?”
“As I was saying,” Professor Davies continues, tapping the papers in front of you, “I would like to discuss your performance with you today, after class. Please meet me at the front of the room before you go.”
“Yes, sir.” you mumble dejectedly, nodding as you quickly flip the test over, embarrassed at the thought of anyone else seeing your grade.
“I’ll see you later, babes,” Louise says a few minutes later as everyone is clearing out of the room, “Good luck!” She whispers, giving you a reassuring pat on the shoulder before making her way to the door.
“Thanks!” you smile weakly, swallowing the lump in your throat before picking up your things and heading to the front of the room. The afternoon sun is already getting lower in the sky, beams of light shining into the room, bathing rectangular swaths of the floor in bright, golden light and highlighting motes of dust as they scatter in the air. Only a few students are left in the classroom, some of them finishing up notes while others type out quick texts. As you walk by his desk, you notice Michael scribbling down notes in his planner.
You shuffle your feet nervously as you stand in front of the sizable oak desk that your professor sits at, watching as he adds a sticky note to the top of another stack of papers, “You wanted to see me, Professor?”
“Ah, yes!” He says, looking up at you over his glasses. He quickly caps his pen and stands, walking around the desk to stand in front of you, “I know this class has been quite the challenge,” he begins, leaning against the desk, “But, I think I’ve found a solution for you.”
“You have?” You ask, tilting your head in confusion.
“I think you could benefit greatly from a tutor, perhaps a peer who could explain the material to you in a different way,” he continues, “And I have just the student in mind.” Instantly, you feel a pit beginning to form in your stomach, biting your bottom lip as you watch Professor Davies motion for someone behind you to come up to the desk, “Mr. Gavey, if you could join us up here, please.”
You freeze when you feel him saunter up beside you, eyeing him out of the corner of your eye. He was so much taller than you, your head barely grazing his shoulder, as he came to a stop next to you, standing casually with his backpack slung over one shoulder.
Professor Davies once again turns his attention to you, motioning to Michael as he speaks, “Mr. Gavey here is one of my most capable students,” you can’t help but notice him stand up straighter at the comment, growing somehow even taller, “I’ve taken the liberty of asking him if he would be so kind as to assist you with some of the course work and he agreed.” You freeze a little at that, stunned that he would be so quick to help you when he seems to relish any opportunity to make you squirm. “I’ve given it some thought,” the professor continues, fixing you with a stern gaze, “And I’m willing to let you make corrections to your test and resubmit it for half credit.”
“Oh, thank you so much, prof–”
“However,” he adds, crossing his arms over his chest, “This will be the only time I do so. From now on, I suggest you see Mr. Gavey here on a regular basis; the material is only going to get more challenging as we begin this next unit.”
“Of course, professor. Thank you again.” You respond quietly, shifting uneasily as you stand between the two men.
“Right, well, now that’s sorted,” Professor Davies says, clapping his hands together once as he turns and makes his way back over to the desk chair, sitting down with a tired sigh, “I trust the two of you can come to an agreement upon when and where to meet. I’ll see you again Monday, have a pleasant weekend.” He says, waving his hand dismissively as he goes back to organizing his papers.
The two of you murmur your goodbyes before making your way into the hall, the hairs on the back of your neck standing up as he follows you out of the classroom. Eventually, you come across a small alcove in the hallway; finally turning to face him, you let your eyes sweep up his body, finally coming to meet his blue eyes, slightly hidden behind the glare of the hallway lights on his glasses.
“So,” you clear your throat and shift on your feet awkwardly, “Uh, what time works for you? I really can’t do Saturdays–” you begin, only to be cut off.
“Shame,” Michael sighs dismissively, a smirk pulling at one corner of his mouth, “Saturday is the only day that works for me.”
The tone of his voice and the mirthful glint in his eyes makes you very much doubt that, your gaze narrowing, “Okay, well Saturday’s are the only day I have off,” you huff, only growing more annoyed as the stupid smirk on his face grows with satisfaction, no doubt pleased that he’s being a nuisance, “Besides, I super can’t tomorrow, anyway. I already promised my friends I’d come with them to this party tha–”
“Oh, I know about your little party,” Michael scoffs, “Trust me, love, the whole damn class heard about that stupid fucking party with the way you lot were running your mouths earlier,” he chuckles coldly, continuing in an exaggerated high-pitched voice, one hand coming up to mime twirling a lock of hair, “Oooooh, it’s so cold, can’t wear the fuckin’ strappy dress, gotta wear me jumper and little slutty skirt, la-dee-dah.” He finishes with a final huff of laughter.
“What is your deal with me?!” You finally snap, glaring at him, even as you feel your face redden, “You’ve been a dick all semester and I haven’t done anything to you! I’ve never even talked to you!” Glancing around the empty hallway, you cross your arms over your chest, praying no one’s in earshot to hear your hissed tirade.
“I might not know you but I know plenty about your little friends,” he sneers, shaking his head like a disappointed father; the sight makes your blood boil.
“What does that even mean?” You demand, eyebrows knitting together in confusion. What did your friends have to do with any of this? None of them ever spoke about Michael, none of them even knew him as far as you were aware.
His face softens, if only for a moment, as he registers the genuine confusion on your face, smirk faltering as his eyes narrow. He leans in closer to you as he begins speaking again and you can’t help but get a brief smell of the cologne he wears, something warm and woodsy that makes you think of a bookshop and the smell of the forest after it rains, “Come on,” he starts, blue eyes flitting between both of yours as he looks at you intently, “Felix Catton? You and your little friend, the one from class, you go around with him, yeah?”
You nod, giving him another puzzled look, confused as to what the hell Felix has to do with any of his disdain, “Yeah,” you say slowly, drawing out the word, “But, what does he have to do with anything?”
Michael huffs once more, almost laughing to himself as he shakes his head, burying his hands in the pockets of his jeans, “See, we went to school together, him and I – some of primary, all of secondary,” he shrugs, clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth as he traps you in his gaze once again, “And I just don’t fucking like the guy. Can’t stand him, never could’ve.”
You’re silent for a second, and now it’s your turn to flick your eyes back and forth, searching each of his for some sort of coherent answer and yet you come up empty. “But, what does that have to do with me?” You ask slowly, making sure to carefully enunciate each word.
“Don’t trust the people around him either,” he mutters, gazing down at his shoe, “Weirdos, the whole lot. There’s something…off about the guy. Can’t put my finger on it, but there’s something dark there, all around him. Like he’s putting on one big show. All his little gremlins do too, they all act the same.”
The two of you are silent for a moment, neither knowing quite what to say next. You chance a glance up at him, nearly gasping when you find him already gazing at you – an unreadable expression on his face. Yet a light blush still blooms on your cheeks as you quickly look away once again, your heart thudding so loudly you’re wondering if he can hear it – hell, you’re wondering why you’re reacting this way at all, why you’re so shy and skittish around him.
“M’not like that,” you very nearly whisper, finally seeming to regain your voice. Only to lose it once again when he takes a half step toward you, suddenly crowding you further into the small alcove.
He makes a small noise, damn near cooing at you, tilting his head to the side when he notices you flinch as he raises an arm, gently raising your chin with one hand, angling your head up to meet his gaze, that signature smirk once again taking hold on his face as he looks at you curiously, “You’re not like that, are you?” He asks, his voice low and raspy.
You quickly shake your head, blinking up at him, unsure of what exactly he wants from you. You feel your cheeks stinging for the umpteenth time today with how hard you’re blushing, a strange feeling taking root in your stomach the longer you stare at him, that small voice in your head positively cheering.
But, as quickly as whatever spell he seems to have on you takes hold, it’s broken as he suddenly lets go of your chin and steps back, casually pursing his lips and nodding to himself, coming to some unknown decision in his head, “Meet me in Bodleian, tomorrow at five. There’s hardly anyone up on the third floor on the weekends, so we'll be able to focus.” He says simply, turning on his heel to leave without even giving you a second to answer.
“But I’m bus–”
“D’you want a good grade or do you want to go get drunk with your creepy gremlin friends?” He asks, peering over his shoulder as he saunters down the hallway, raising an eyebrow at you over the shiny gold rim of his glasses, “S’your call, love.” He finishes with a shrug, disappearing as he turns a corner and leaves you standing there alone, frowning and dumbstruck.
“Bodleian at five it is,” you mutter to yourself, sighing as you turn and walk the opposite way, desperately trying to ignore the butterflies in your stomach and the fog in your brain.
Your shoes tap against the stone pavement as you walk up to the old library, backpack slung over one shoulder; reaching into a pocket of your backpack, you blindly grab for your phone as you pull open one of the heavy, old wooden doors and step into the atrium. Out of all of Oxford’s libraries, you had to admit that Bodleian was one of your favorites; it had such a soothing atmosphere – from the way the evening light trickled in through the old glass windows, to the intricate wooden decor, and the way the entire place smelled of the old, well-loved books that lined the countless rows of shelves.
Stepping to the side of the entryway, you check the time, your hand shaking a bit as you unlock your phone – 4:53pm, a little early, still. Sighing, you crane your head, nervously looking for Michael. Not seeing him, you decide to bide your time examining one of the tall bookshelves near the entrance, eyes skimming over their titles as you fiddle with the strings of the hoodie you’d decided to wear. Smiling, you lean up on your tiptoes to grab a copy of The Two Towers, happy to see a familiar book. Just as your fingers graze over the embossed gold lettering on the spine of the book, a large pair of hands grab you by the shoulders.
“Boo!” Someone whispers, close enough that you feel the warmth of their breath on the side of your neck.
You spin around with a small shriek, jerking your head to the side when a hand is suddenly clasped over your mouth.
“Shh! Hey, relax!” Finally managing to focus on the face in front of you, your breathing slows as your gaze meets a pair of round blue eyes. Michael’s face is only inches from yours, concern evident, even behind the mask of a smirk he wears. “It’s only me.” He says softly, smirk softening into a genuine smile that sends a frantic tingle down your spine, which you desperately try to ignore as you nod against his hand, gasping in a small breath as it lowers once again to rest on your shoulder.
“Hi.” Blinking up at him, you breathe the word more so than say it as you settle back on your feet, cheeks flushing as you realize he has his other arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you forward ever so slightly, like he wanted to make sure your head didn’t hit the sharp edge of one of the shelves; the voice in your head purrs as the butterflies in your stomach summersalt.
“Hi.” He answers and you feel the hand on your shoulder twitch, the ghost of a comforting squeeze or rub causing the hair on the back of your neck to stand on end as some strange, warm weight settles in the pit of your stomach.
Suddenly, whatever spell the two of you seemed to be under broke and you quickly clambered away from one another. Michael cleared his throat, running a hand through his wheat colored hair as you tugged at the sleeves of your hoodie, trying to look anywhere but in his direction. “Should we–” He starts suddenly, nodding his head to a staircase at the other end of the room, “It’ll be quieter up there.”
“Sure!” You chirp, giving him a curt nod, “Lead the way, you seem to know the place better than I do.”
“Well,” he chuckles, keeping his voice low as he moves past you, “S’what happens when you don’t spend all your damn time at weirdo parties.”
You roll your eyes behind him, huffing as you start following him up the staircase, one of your hands gliding across the smooth, polished wood of the bannister.
“Sorry.” He says suddenly as you reach the third floor of the library, running a hand through his hair once again as he stands at the top of the staircase.
“What?” You ask, coming to a stop on the last step and looking up at him, tilting your head to the side as you lean against the handrail.
“For earlier,” he explains, gesturing for you to follow him as he starts making his way to the back corner of the large, open space, the one furthest from the stairs, “Scaring you, I mean. Didn’t mean to.”
You’re quiet for a moment, following him as the two of you walk past aisle after aisle of towering bookshelves. The area is definitely quieter than the main floor, nearly vacant aside from one or two lone students sitting at the long wooden study tables. It’s calm up here, evening light filtering in through large windows on either end of the long room, casting large shadows on the floor and vaulted ceilings.
Eventually, the two of you come to a stop at a table, the very last in its row, tucked away in a corner. “It’s alright,” you shrug, trying to keep your voice soft in the quiet space as you sit your backpack on the edge of the table, “I don’t know why I’m so jumpy today, maybe the tea from earlier.” You lie, hopefully smoothly, and quickly grab a pen and notebook as well, before sitting down.
Michael huffs to himself as he sits his things out on the table as well, like he’s laughing at a joke you can’t hear, “Maybe it’s all that tension.”
“Wh– tension?” You question, cringing at the urgency in your voice as you pray that he doesn’t pick up on it, shifting in your seat as he pulls out the chair next to you and plops down, completely relaxed as if he owns the place.
“The stress? That you were meant to be working out at Catton’s?” He gives you an odd look, resting his head against his hand as he leans his elbow on the table, “Couldn’t help but overhear your little conversation yesterday.”
“Oh…” You breathe, a pink haze settling over your cheeks once more as you fidget with your pen, acutely aware of how easily he seems to be able to make you blush.
The smirk on his face widens as he narrows his eyes, studying you in a way that makes your heart squeeze, your thighs clenching together as that heady weight from earlier makes itself known again in your stomach, “You can’t keep one thought in that head, can you, love?”
You blink, unsure of what to say, as two halves of your brain argue with one another. Why is he so mean? You wonder to yourself, eyes searching his, as you frown, And…God, why do I like it?
“Why don’t you like me?” You ask, finally breaking the silence with your small voice.
He scoffs again, shaking his head as if the answer should be obvious to you, “You don’t take it seriously. You come to class and whisper and gossip with your damn friend or doodle in your little notebook, but you don’t fucking listen.” He sits back up, frowning, “I work hard every fucking day in there, for fuck’s sake, I only agreed to help you because I want to be Davies’s teaching assistant next year! Yet you and Catton and everyone like you can just pay their way in here, collecting a little diploma from Oxford just so their parents can brag about it with their stupid fucking rich friends.” He finally finishes, turning his head to stare out the window.
“Told you, I’m not like that,” you whisper after a moment, voice wavering from the tightness in the back of your throat, “I’m here on scholarship, same as you.”
His eyes flit back to you, his frown deepening, “How did you know ab–”
“Like I’m not going to ask around about the guy tutoring me?”
“Fair enough.” He concedes after a minute.
Silence settles over the two of you again, like a stalemate, waiting to see who would crack first. Finally, you turn to him with a sigh, nodding to your test paper on the desk, “Can we just get this done? I don’t want to be here any more than you do.”
“Ah, of course,” he nods as he picks up your test, looking over the first incorrect problem, “Catton’s big important party. And you’re stuck here with a loser like me; must really be doing your head in, huh?”
You want so badly to correct him, to tell him that no, actually, for once, you were kind of excited to not be at one of Felix’s parties. You wanted to tell him that you’d hoped things would be different, maybe if it was just the two of you he would drop the arrogant asshole bit, that you stupidly hoped it was just an act.
Instead, you bite your lip, determined not to lash out and give him another reason to dislike you, “I don’t think you’re a loser, Michael,” you say, tiredly meeting his gaze, “Can we just focus on this now, please?”
He’s quiet for a moment, frozen like you��d said something groundbreaking. Finally, he nods his head, almost imperceptibly like he’d come to a decision you weren’t privy to, “Sure,” he says gruffly, grabbing your test and reading over the first incorrect problem, “S’not like I’m the one failing.” He finishes, his voice tight and determined, like he knew it was something he’d regret saying even as the words left his mouth.
See? You think silently, pointed words aimed at that stupid voice in your head, Told you so.
It’s barely an hour later and you already feel cross-eyed, groaning as Michael flips your test over to the next page and you see you’re only just now halfway done correcting the ones you’d gotten wrong. You hate to admit it to yourself, but his tutoring was helping — problems that you’d hardly been able to finish the first time seem far less daunting as he explains them to you. Even he seems less daunting as the hour goes on; shockingly, he doesn’t make anymore snide comments and you can tell that he genuinely enjoys talking about the subject, patiently helping you through each problem.
“Can we take a break?” You grumble, laying your head down on top of your textbook.
“What?” He scoffs, rolling his eyes as he checks his watch, “It’s hardly been an hour and you’re ready to give up?”
“‘M not giving up,” you mumble, “I just think we could use a little break…” You say hopefully, looking at him with a small smile. When he doesn’t break, holding your gaze with a frown, you sigh, “Just, like, ten minutes, please?”
You want to groan again when you see that formidable smirk make its home on his lips again, “Say please again.” He commands, his voice low.
“Huh?” You balk, nearly dropping your phone as you retrieve it from your pocket.
“Say please again,” he says slowly, his smirk only growing wider as he watches your cheeks redden, “Beg.”
“W-why?” You question, face burning as you try your damndest to look unbothered by his request.
He shrugs dismissively, “Makes you squirm,” he answers finally, leaning back in his chair, “I like that.”
“Why?” Your voice is so small you doubt he’d even know you spoke if his eyes weren’t fixed on you.
He hums, a satisfied noise, like you’ve finally managed to meander into a trap he’d set ages ago, “S’fucking cute,” he huffs out a laugh when he sees your eyes widen, “Makes you blush and act all dumb.”
You know you should be offended, but you can’t find it within yourself to care, “You think I’m cute?”
He chuckles, sighing, “That’s what you choose to focus on?”
“Do you?”
“Fine, yes.”
“Please, Michael,” you say suddenly, the words feeling practically punched from your throat, “Please, please can we have a break? Please, only ten minutes?” You beg, breathing hard as you quickly scan the room, shoulders relaxing when you don’t see anyone else sitting at the study tables.
You see the way his eyes widen behind his glasses, like he can’t believe you actually did it, before they narrow once more, overtaken by a satisfied gleam, “Ten minutes.” He says simply, leaning back in his chair yet again, letting his head flop back, relaxed, and closes his eyes.
You don’t move for a second, letting your eyes study the side of his face, looking over his sharp jawline and the curve of his nose. After a moment, you look away, deciding to pull out your phone.
A few minutes go by as you answer a few texts from Louise, telling her that you miss her too and how you wish you were at the party — a lie, though you can’t find it within yourself to care. You busy yourself for a while longer, watching a few people's Instagram stories, the volume on your phone muted as you watch your friends dance under colorful strobe lights, blowing smoke at the camera and clinking drinks together.
“I meant what I said.” You say finally, laying your phone on the table and picking at one of your cuticles.
“Hm?” Michael questions, not bothering to open his eyes.
“I don’t think you’re a loser,” you answer, fidgeting, “I never have. I think you’re…intriguing.”
“Intriguing?” He asks, finally sitting up and looking at you with a questioning stare, “How so?”
You swallow, tucking your hair behind your ear with a shrug, “You’re smart…you know you’re smart,” you start, voice small and shaky, “I like that.”
“You like that or you like me?” He’s looking at you like a cat playing with a helpless mouse, looking at you like he knows he’s already won a game you don’t even know the two of you are playing.
“You.” It comes out as a breath.
He doesn’t answer and eventually you look away from him, choosing to stare out the window at the streetlights outside, the sky dark.
Finally, the silence becomes overbearing and you break first again, “Thank you,” you smile at him, keeping your voice low even though you know the rest of the floor is vacant, even though the noise of the floors below has drastically faded over the last hour, “For helping me, I mean. You probably have a dozen things you’d rather do on a Saturday.”
He stays quiet for a few seconds, “I didn’t really have anything better to do,” he smirks, “No parties.”
“None?”
“Never,” he shakes his head, shrugging, “Don’t get invited.”
“Oh,” you answer simply, “Well, still, either way, thank you.” You smile again, but it falters when he leans forward suddenly, crowding into your space with a sly grin, so close that you can feel his breath on your neck.
“I know a way you could repay me, love,” he whispers lowly into your ear, your hair standing on end, “Only if you want to, of course.” He adds, his long fingers toying with a strand of your hair.
Your eyes grow comically wide as you process what he just said, “H-how do you want me to repay you?” You whisper, your eyes finally meeting his.
He laughs softly, letting go of the strand of your hair to rest his hand lightly against the side of your face, his thumb skimming over your cheek as he watches a rosy hue settle across it, “I can think,” he starts, thumb moving lower to skate across your bottom lip, slightly tugging the skin with it, “Of one very fucking good way to put this mouth to use, love.”
You part your lips slightly, letting the tip of his thumb into your mouth, just barely holding it between your teeth as you lightly run your tongue over it, heart skipping a beat at the way his lips just barely part in shock as you do. The voice in your head purrs again, roaring back to life, and you nod, smiling around his finger.
“Yeah?” He questions, smirking as he watches your lips twitch around his thumb, “”Y’wanna?”
“Yes.” You reply around his thumb, your hands coming up to hold onto his forearm, the fabric of his rust colored sweater soft under your hands.
“Beg.” He commands again, eyes twinkling.
You take in a breath, eyes slipping shut as your thighs clench around nothing – missing the way Michael glances down at the movement, a knowing grin forming on his face, “Please, Michael.” You practically whine.
“Ooh,” he coos, finally moving his thumb from your mouth, only to trail his hand down your neck, lightly resting it against your throat, “I think you can do better than that, pretty. Open your eyes and damn beg.”
You follow his orders, a small whimper skirting past your lips at the new pet name as you open your eyes, “Please, Michael, please let me repay you, let me thank you, please.” The words tumble out, your eyes wide and pleading.
“How’re you planning on doing that, empty headed little thing?” He taunts, the hand around your throat just barely tightening but it’s enough to make you let out a small, desperate whine. He clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth, moving close enough to you that the front of his chest is plastered to your side, his heart beating against your shoulder, “Ask for what you want, beg properly.” His breath fans across the side of your face again, the feeling of his lips brushing over the side of your jaw making you jump.
“Please, God, Michael,” you whine, squeezing your legs together so hard you’re surprised they haven’t fused together, “P-please let me suck your cock — to thank you, thank you for helping me.” You add quickly, breath shaky as you turn your head to look at him imploringly.
He chuckles, but he looks pleased as he leans back momentarily, craning his neck to make sure there isn’t anyone around, “Alright, alright, love,” he soothes, coming back to face you, nodding his head to the empty space in front of his hair, below the table, “Not God, but I’ll give you what you want.” He teases.
Your breath catches in your throat as you look down at the floor beneath the desk, then back up at him before nodding, “Yes, sir.” You push yourself off your chair, sliding down beneath the desk.
“Goddammit,” you hear him groan above you, running his palms over his thighs as he parts them, making room for you, “Keep that up, love, might even give you extra credit.”
You rest your palms against the tops of his thighs as you move between his legs, getting comfortable on your knees, the old wooden floor cool against your skin, even through your black leggings. Finally, your eyes settle on the sizable bulge, covered by his dark jeans, and you can’t help the small whine that leaves your lips. Slowly, you move your hands up to the button of his pants, quickly popping it open and dragging the zipper down, smiling when Michael sighs above you as he pulls his sweater up out of the way, exposing the pale skin of his stomach. You let your eyes roam over him, warmth settling between your legs as you spot the dusting of light hair that starts beneath his belly button and leads downwards, disappearing under his plaid boxers.
You move closer to him, crowding in between his long legs, as you hook your fingers over the tops of his boxers, before finally looking up at him, “Can I…?” You ask, nodding to where his cock is straining against the fabric.
“Don’t be shy now, princess,” he groans, running a hand through your hair as he stares down at you, “Get on with it.”
You keep your eyes on his as you pull his boxers down, just enough to free his cock, watching the way his chest heaves as he lets out another relieved sigh. Finally, you tear your gaze away from his as you look at his cock, gasping in a breath as you do. As far as dicks go, Michaels is impressive, beautiful even – long and thick with veins running up the underside, leading up to a flushed, leaking tip.
You take him in your hand tentatively, squeezing him lightly around the base, your confidence growing when he grunts, breathing heavier. Finally, you lightly lick the tip, eyes sliding closed at the pleasant, salty taste of his pre-cum. You take the tip of him in your mouth, humming around him when his fingers tighten in your hair, lightly pushing on the back of your head, silently urging you to take more of him.
“Fuck, that’s it,” he roughly groans, managing to keep his voice low, “Knew that pretty fucking mouth was good for something.” He moves his hips, impatiently thrusting his cock an inch deeper into your mouth, breathily cursing under his breath.
You start bobbing your head up and down over his length, taking more and more of him into your mouth, more of his pre-cum leaking onto your tongue as you feel his dick throb and twitch in your hand. After a moment, you take a deep breath through your nose and remove your hand, resting it on his thigh, as you take him all the way to the base, your nose nestled in the short patch of hair there as you breathe in his heady scent, your eyes glazing over as you savor the feeling of him at the back of your throat.
“Jesus!” He grunts, louder than he meant to, keeping your head in place as he thrusts his hips up again, keeping you in place at the base of his cock, “Fuck, that’s it,” he praised lowly, your center throbbing, no doubt leaking onto the fabric of your leggings, “Look at me, wanna see your eyes while I fuck your throat.”
You whine, desperately blinking back tears as you look up at him, trying to keep your breathing even. You hold his gaze as you stick your tongue out, licking lower, down toward his balls, relishing the way his eyes roll back as you do, stomach muscles twitching as he continues thrusting his hips up into your mouth, soaking his boxers and jeans with your spit.
“Oh, fuck, that’s it,” he groans, looking down at you, his eyelids heavy, “God, yeah, cry on my cock love. Fuck, you look so pretty crying on my cock.” He mumbles, talking to himself more so than you.
His words send a shiver down your spine, adding to the heat in your center, and you whimper when he finally moves his hand from the back of your head, allowing you to come up for air. You do, with a gasp, thin strings of spit connecting your reddened lips with the flushed head of his cock. You keep your eyes on his as you wrap your lips around him once more, running your tongue along the thick vein on the underside before sucking at the swollen tip, relishing the way it makes him clench his jaw and gasp through his teeth as you stroke the rest of him with your hand.
Above you, he smirks again, gently running his hand through your hair but making no move to press your head down again. He cocks his head to the side, studying you, grinning at the far-off, foggy look in your eyes, “Not a thought in that pretty head, is there?” He asks, bringing his hand down and gently patting your cheek; the ghost of a slap making your thighs clench, making your head dizzy with need.
You nod around him, moving your head up and down along his length. You feel yourself throbbing with need, pulsing with heat; almost automatically, your hand starts to wander, a small sigh escaping you as your hand presses against your center through your leggings. You feel a warmth settle across your cheeks again as you feel your own wetness, leaking through the fabric just as you’d suspected. You whimper as you press down again, your eyes falling shut as you let your hips grind against your fingers, the wet fabric creating a delicious friction against your clit.
Which you get to feel for all of five seconds before Michael is suddenly yanking your head from his length, causing you to yelp as he tugs your hair. “Did I say you could touch your cunt?”
“N-no,” you whine pathetically, eyes watering from the harsh hold he has on your hair, “I’m sorry, I wasn’t think—“ You try to explain, only for him to cut you off with another harsh tug, making you mewl.
“That’s a pattern with you, isn’t it?” He asks, looking at you with a condescending smirk, studying you again, “You were being such a good girl earlier, what happened? Hm?” He questions, pushing his chair back enough to pull you out from under the table.
You get to your feet, suddenly feeling shy in front of him once again despite having his cock in your mouth mere moments ago. “I…got distracted.” You answer finally.
“I got distracted….who?” He asks, looking up at you expectantly over the rims of his glasses.
“I got distracted, sir,” you quickly correct yourself, eyes frantically scanning the still vacant floor of the library, “I’m sorry.”
“That’s much better, love,” he drawls, placing his hands on your hips, “Now, what could’ve been so fucking distracting, huh?” He starts moving his hands, slowly, toward your center, still looking up at you, his eyes questioning. You nod your head, just barely but enough for him to understand, and any hesitancy from him quickly disappeared. “Could it be this, I wonder?” He questions sardonically, suddenly cupping your heat in his large hand, the warmth of it nearly making your knees buckle, even through the thin fabric of your leggings. He hums, the sound low in his chest, when he feels how much you’ve soaked the fabric,
“Oh,” you whimper, grabbing at his shoulders to keep yourself balanced as his fingers continue to tease you, rubbing circles into your clit, “Oh my God, fuck.”
“Christ,” he breathes, staring up at you with dark eyes, “So fucking wet, love, holy hell. Did you get this way just from sucking my cock?”
“Yeah,” you whine, nodding your head desperately as you try to swallow all the small noises you want to make in your throat, your hips rutting against his hand, “Please, sir!”
“Oh, so now that dumb brain has no trouble remembering damn instructions, huh?” He taunts, a wicked grin on his face as his fingers rub your clit in smaller, harsher circles, making you see stars, “Need your wet little cunt played with to be able to do as you're told?”
You nod your head frantically, tears nearly spilling from your eyes at the zaps of pleasure radiating from you, your walls clenching around nothing. Just as you feel yourself about to tip over the edge, he stops, jerking his hand away from you with a knowing chuckle, “W-what?” You question, eyes blinking open, “I was so close!” You whine, nearly stamping your foot on the floor like a petulant child.
“Told you,” Michael shrugs, pulling you to sit in his lap, your back against his chest as he wraps his arms around you. His breath tickles the side of your neck and face when he speaks again, “You’re so fun to tease, love, can’t help myself.”
You wiggle in his grasp, making him groan as your ass grinds against his hard length, desperately trying to get your hands free to touch your pussy again, nearly out of your mind with need. “P-please, sir, please touch me!” You finally gasp out, knowing he won’t give in until you do.
“Now there’s a good girl,” he says, voice pleased and cocky as he plants kisses along the side of your neck, “Since you asked so nicely…” He says, letting go of one of your arms, letting you grasp the arm still wrapped around you with your hands, as his free hand skirts down your stomach to the top of your leggings, pausing long enough for you to nod again, before he finally touches you.
You whimper, jerking in his lap at the feel of his warm fingers directly on your heat for the first time, spreading your wet folds with a satisfied hum. His long fingers move down to your entrance, gathering some of the wetness there, “You’re so fucking wet,” he marvels, dragging his fingers up to your aching clit, “Fucking dripping on my fingers.” He murmurs in your ear, nipping at the side of your neck and sending tingles down your spine as he starts rubbing tight, wet circles against your bud.
You tilt your head back, resting it against his shoulder as your chest heaves. A moan leaves your mouth, louder than it should be, and Michaels free hand shoots up, wrapping around your mouth. “Gotta be quiet, love,” he whispers, not slowing down the movement of his fingers in the slightest, “Wouldn’t want someone to interrupt, hm? Make me stop again?”
You squeeze your eyes shut, whining desperately against his hand as he moves his fingers against you, the coil in your belly winding tighter and tighter. Your whole body lurches atop his, making him suck a breath in through his teeth as you move against his cock, still hard and hot as it presses against your lower back, when he moves his hand lower, plunging two fingers into your tight heat with no warning. “Fuck!” You yelp, muffled against his hand; tears leak from the corners of your eyes as he moves his fingers, scissoring them into you relentlessly as his thumb circles your clit.
“S’fucking tight,” he mumbles lowly, voice vibrating his chest against your back, “God, you’re tight.” He grunts between clenched teeth, repeatedly crooking his fingers inside you as he fucks his fingers in and out of your heat, letting out small, barely there groans every time your pussy squelches around his fingers as he punches muffled whines and whimpers from you. He crooks his fingers up suddenly in a way that makes you see stars as you writhe on his lap, your knees shooting up off the floor as you attempt to curl up on yourself, “That the spot?” He teases, relentlessly rubbing his fingers against it as his thumb quickens against your clit. He adds a third finger without warning, curling them up against that rough patch inside you as he bites down on your shoulder, muffling his own groan as he feels you clench down on his fingers.
“You gonna come?” He mumbles, grinning like a cheshire cat when you frantically nod your head, tears leaking onto the hand still wrapped tightly around your mouth. “Open your eyes,” he commands, not stopping his movements, “Want you to watch what I’m doing to you when you fucking cum.”
At the promise of finally getting to come, your eyes shoot open as you pick your head up off his shoulder, looking down the length of your body to where his hand disappears under your leggings. You practically come undone at the sight, watching as his hand moves against you through the dark fabric, maintaining a careful rhythm. “Michael, please!” You whine against his hand, desperately trying to keep your eyes open.
He chuckles lowly, clearly proud of how quickly he’s been able to reduce you into a begging mess, the sound reverberating off your back. “Fucking come,” he commands, doubling his efforts, “Soak my fucking hand, love.”
The coil in your stomach finally snaps and you sob, eyes snapping shut as your whole body clenches, shaking in his lap, as fireworks burst behind your eyelids. Your entire core clamps down so tight he has to fight to keep his fingers within you, muting the sounds of his groans against your neck and shoulder as he feels your cunt pulse against his fingers. He doesn’t let up, pressing incessantly against that spot within you as you come, until he finally gets what he wants – both of you groaning together, noises muffled, as a stream of fluid seems to erupt from your center, soaking his hand and the inside of your leggings, though you can’t think enough to care at the moment.
“Goddammit,” he grunts, finally removing his hand from your leggings, running his fingers through your folds one last time just to make you squirm. Suddenly, he’s lifting you off his lap enough to turn you around, maneuvering you to face him. You’re practically boneless in his lap as he lifts you just enough to pull your leggings down over your ass, pressing his bare cock against your still throbbing center when he sets you back down, “Gonna let me fuck you, love? Hm? Want me to make you go dumb around my cock?”
You nod your head weakly, not bothering to lift it from his shoulder as you straddle his lap. He doesn’t make you beg this time, too desperate to feel your wet heat around him, as he swiftly lifts you up again, just enough to align his length with your entrance.
Both of you moan as he lets you sit back down, his hard length disappearing into your warmth. He holds the back of your head, pressing your mouth against his neck to muffle your cries; you can feel his jaw clench with the effort of keeping his own muted. He fills you deliciously, thick cock pressed against every part of you, as your clit presses against the small thatch of hair above his length.
“Fuck,” he huffs, the word hissed between his teeth as he squeezes his eyes shut, savoring the way your pussy pulses around his length, the way you desperately mouth and lick at his neck, “God, knew you’d feel good.”
Somehow, that remark works it’s way through the fog in your brain, “Hm?” you hum against his neck, your hands coming up to tangle in his golden hair, “You thought about me?” You whimper, words whiny and breathy as he rocks you against him, spearing you on his length again and again, head kissing your cervix just enough to knock the air from your lungs every time he lowers you back down.
He sighs, as if just now realizing what he’d said, and nods, swallowing down a moan before he speaks, “‘Course I did,” he admits, grinding you down against him, his hips pressed against yours. “Looked so damn pretty in class,” he continues, “So cute all, fuck, all flushed and embarrassed every time you got asked a question.”
His admission makes you clench around him, heat flooding through your system as you process what he’d said. Your clit grinds against his body again, just as the head of his cock brushes against that spot in your center, and it’s like your brain has been whited out, all you can do is mewl against his neck as he rocks you up and down along his cock.
“Fuck, I feel this sweet cunt getting tight, love,” he says, breathing heavily as he gets closer to his own release, “Y’gonna come?”
“Yes!” You whimper, voice high-pitched and broken as you nod frantically against the skin of his neck, now wet with your spit and tears as you rock yourself against him, moving your clit against the hair at the base of his cock.
“Hold it,” he commands softly, more breathing than speaking. He chuckles when he hears you whine, loving the way you mewl for him like a soft little kitten, and the hand still holding your head against him strokes your hair, soothing you. “Want us to come together,” he huffs, cursing under his breath as he feels you grow somehow tighter around him, “Fuck, I’m close just hold on.” The hand on your hip tightens, grinding you tightly against him, groaning as he feels your center milking his cock, your walls clenching around him desperately.
“F-fuck, Michael,” you whine, breath hot against the column of his throat as you feel yourself tipping over, “Please! Please I can’t hold it, please!” You beg beautifully, weeping against his skin, trying so hard to keep it down to a whisper so you don’t draw attention, not this close to your release.
“Where, fuck,” he curses, pulling your head up to look in your eyes, the blue in his nearly swallowed by blackness, “Tell me where.” He pants, his voice urgent.
“Inside me!” You breathe, cunt clenching around him as you feel him twitch inside you.
He groans, forehead resting against your shoulder for a second as he tries to maintain control, both of his hands gripping your ass hard enough to leave bruises, “Are you s–”
“Yes!” You nod, resting your forehead against his when he picks his head back up, “‘M on the pill.” You reassure him as you keep nodding. The two of you move together for a few more seconds, wildly grinding together, before the coil in your stomach is finally wound too tight, “Michael, oh, fuck!”
“Fuck,” he gasps, seeming to get somehow thicker inside you, “Come for daddy, fuck, be good and come.” He commands, his own voice low and frenzied.
Hearing him call himself that does you in, and you shatter around him, walls gripping him tightly. You open your mouth, unable to control a loud moan, which he quickly hushes by pressing his lips against yours, licking into your mouth as he thrusts up into your center harshly a few times, each rise of his hips accompanied by a grunt into your waiting mouth as you mewl at the heat of his cum filling you up, extending your own release.
The two of you stay quiet for a moment, breathing heavily as you sweetly kiss, tiredly pressing your lips together. Finally, you pull away from him giggling shyly when you meet his eyes, blushing as you feel his length slowly softening inside you. “Getting shy on me now?” He teases, smiling at you as he gently plays with your hair.
You smile back at him for a second before suddenly coming to your senses and remembering where you are, “Shit,” you whisper, hopping up off his lap, “I cannot believe we just did that!” You quickly scan the floor with wide eyes, shoulders visibly relaxing when you still don’t see anyone.
“Wasn’t in my plan,” Michael starts, tucking his member back into his boxers and zipping up his jeans, “But I’m certainly not complaining.” He finishes, smirking at you before standing. He leans down, helping you pull up your leggings. He doesn’t miss the way you grimace when the damp, now unpleasantly cool, fabric presses against you. “Sorry,” he apologizes, gesturing to them, “I should’ve…controlled myself better with that one.” He finishes, awkwardly scratching at his chin.
You laugh quietly, trying to play it off although you’re dreading the half hour train ride back to your flat. That feeling doubles when you look down, eyes widening as you see the dark patch around your crotch, hardly visible on the dark fabric but enough that it makes you nervous, “Getting home is gonna be fun.” You joke, turning to begin gathering your things.
You’ve gotten your textbook put back into your backpack when you feel a tap on your shoulder; turning your head, you look wide-eyed when you see him sheepishly smiling at you, holding his red sweater out as he stands in a band t-shirt, “Here,” he says softly, waving the sweater at you, “You need it more than I do and it’s my fucking fault anyway.”
You blush, taking the sweater from him with a small thank you, tying it around your waist as he busies himself with picking up his things, before putting the rest of yours into your backpack as well, “Oh, you didn’t have to do that!” You tell him as you finish situating his sweater around you, satisfied that the stain is covered.
He huffs out a laugh, “You sucked my cock on the floor of a library,” he jokes, eyes sparkling with mischief yet again, “S’the least I could do.”
You laugh, playfully shoving at his shoulder as you put your backpack on. The floor is truly, blessedly, empty as the two of you leave and walk downstairs, not seeing anyone on the second floor either and only a few stragglers on the main floor at this hour on a Saturday evening. He pushes open one of the heavy wooden doors at the entrance, holding it open for you as you duck under his arm. The door thuds closed behind you as you both stand outside the library, the air cold now that the sun’s gone down.
“I really like them, that band,” you say, nodding to his shirt, “Their last album’s really good.”
“Oh!” He says, eyebrows raising in surprise, “You know them?” He asks, smiling when you nod again, “Their new album is probably my favorite too, actually.” The two of you stand in a comfortable silence for a second later before he notices you shiver as a breeze blows through the stoney courtyard. “D’you live close to campus?”
“Half hour on the train,” you shrug, pulling your phone out to check the time, “I should probably go soon if I’m gonna catch the next one…”
“You could come to mine?” He asks, his voice hopeful, “It’s only a walk from here, maybe fifteen or twenty minutes?”
Your eyes widen, having not expected his invitation, but you nod nonetheless, “If you’re sure,” he nods, “Then, yeah! That would be great.” You smile, walking beside him as you start heading in the direction of his flat.
“Would you maybe want to get lunch sometime?” He asks, glancing down at you.
“I would love that,” you smile, your hand brushing against his as you continue down the sidewalk, “I think I might need more tutoring, too…”
His hand catches yours, your fingers intertwining as he smirks, “Will you suck my cock every time?” He teases, grinning as you laugh, the sound echoing off the buildings and filtering into the night air.
Told you so. The voice in the back of your mind echos as you lean your head on Michael’s shoulder.
tagged lovelies: @schniiipsel @arcielee @darlingofvalyria @aemshaircare @imaegontatgaryenwife0 @valeskafics @beautbuck @watercolorskyy @marysucks-blog @fan-goddess @drakonflames @helloworldiamnotarobot
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#michael gavey#michael gavey fic#michael gavey smut#michael gavey x reader#michael gavey x you#michael gavey fanfiction#michael gavey oneshot#saltburn#saltburn fic#saltburn smut#saltburn fanfiction#saltburn oneshot#ewan mitchell#ewan nation#ewanverse#ewan mitchell fic#ewan mitchell smut#fanfiction#fanfic#fic#my writing
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sweet nothing ft the fushigojos to make up for the last fic i wrote for them heh
gojo satoru was not made for domesticity. this has always been something you've known, something you've accepted.
you're just not sure that he has.
it's a little past midnight when he trudges into your bedroom, tired lines creasing his pretty face as he shuffles around the room. he greets you with a quiet hey, and a peck on the forehead before stripping off his uniform, tossing it into the basket with a little more force than necessary.
you raise a brow at him, but stay quiet as he stalks into the bathroom. in the years that you've been together, you've learned better than to back an emotionally repressed sorcerer into a corner and force him to say how he's feeling. especially one who’s just gotten back from assignment.
you try and fail to return to the novel you were reading, staring blankly at the page until gojo steps out. his hair is damp, a towel slung low around his waist as he digs around in the closet for underwear.
there’s no pageantry, no winks or eyebrow waggles or light teasing of, like what you see? stuff that would usually make you roll your eyes, but that you suddenly realize has been missing lately.
okay, something is definitely wrong.
so you shut your book, placing it on the nightstand as he crawls into bed next to you. he says nothing, simply reaching across you to flick off your lamp and plunge the room into darkness.
it’s with a heavy sigh that he rests his head in your lap, grabbing your hand and plopping it into his hair before hugging your legs.
"i can't go to okinawa with you guys tomorrow.”
“satoru,” you can’t help but frown, carding your fingers through his hair. “we’ve been planning this trip for months.”
“i know, i’m sorry,” he says, strained. “you should just take the kids without me. take shoko, or something. megumi’s already stocked up on his spf, and tsumiki was really looking forward to picking seashells—”
“satoru,” you interrupt when you catch his voice break. “are you— are you okay?”
he’s crying, you realize when he doesn’t respond, instead pushing his head deeper into your lap, muttering, “no.”
“talk to me,” you murmur, smoothing your hand down his spine.
"i don't want the kids to think that i didn't want to go."
"you've been talking about seeing me in a bikini for weeks, i think they know how badly you wanted to go."
your comment pulls a small laugh out of him, but it's still interrupted by a sniffle.
"what's this really about?" you ask softly.
"i've been...missing things lately," he mutters quietly. "little league games, piano recitals, science fairs. i leave before they're awake, i get back when they're about to go to bed."
sorcerers who are referred to as 'the strongest' don't get days off. they go where they're needed, when they're needed.
"you know they don't hold any of that against you."
"i know," he says, sitting up to look at you. "but i don't want them - or you - to feel like i'm not choosing you. because i would, but i can't. and i'm just tired. of all of it--"
you wrap your arms around him when his voice breaks once more, pulling him into a hug. he reciprocates immediately, hiding his face in the crook of your neck as he releases a shaky sigh.
"it's not just about being there for the big things," you murmur. "it's about...being there when they need you to be. i can't hit a baseball to save my life, so you're the one who takes them the park to practice. you're the one who taught tsumiki how to read sheet music, and found a way to explain the concept of infinity to a ten year old so he could win the science fair."
without him, there would be no little league games, piano recitals, or science fairs to attend.
"besides, we can always go on vacation some other time," you assure him, rubbing circles across his back. "it's not worth it if you're not with us."
_____
satoru wakes to the sound of muffled laughter. a quick glance at the alarm clock on his nightstand confirms that it's 7am.
the lack of warmth pressed into his side tells him you're up too. it's rare that anyone is awake before he is, especially on weekends or days that he's set to depart. he can hear bits of your conversation with the kids as he gets ready for the day, changing into his uniform and shoving clothes into a bag.
"what shape should i try to make?" he hears you ask. ah, you must be making pancakes.
"a heart!" tsumiki suggests.
"japan!" megumi argues.
he knows you're going to make both. you're doing so when he saunters onto the scene, humming along to whatever song tsumiki's put on the record player as you drop chocolate chips into the batter.
he sweeps your hair away from your neck, dipping his head down to press a kiss to the nape of your neck.
then he turns to the kids, who are in the process of setting the table. "did, uh, you guys already talk about okinawa?"
tsumiki nods, but megumi just shrugs, wrinkling his nose. "there are a lot of jellyfish there anyway."
he of course goes on to inform everyone of the different kinds of jellyfish and all the horrible ways they could kill you. tsumiki chimes in to say that they won't attack unless they're bothered.
you press a mug of coffee into his hand, standing on the tip of your toes to kiss to his cheek before joining the kids at the table with a plate of pancakes.
the scene that unfolds in front of him is a simple one, but one that he's dreamed of all his life. a family sitting together for a meal, laughing and chatting about things that don't really matter.
the world's always going to need him. but this? this is all he needs.
because gojo satoru wasn't made for domesticity, but for his family? he'll try.
#gojo x reader#gojo satoru x reader#jjk x reader#keeping up with the fushigojos#gojo fluff#sweet nothing by taylor swift#jjk fluff
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While I'm happy that the word "gaslighting" is more known than it used to be, and that people at large are learning to recognize what it looks like, I feel like we need to be careful not to turn it into something soft and casual we throw around off the cuff without meaning.
Being gaslit is psychological abuse that fucks you up very badly, very slowly, at such a gradual pace that you don't usually know it's happening until it's already re-wired your brain.
If you're unfamiliar with the term, "to gaslight" is to intentionally persuade someone that they cannot trust their own perceptions of reality. It's a destabilizing form of manipulation that leaves you constantly anxious, off-balanced, confused, and dependant on others.
This is done by lying about events that have happened or about things that are happening, invalidating feelings and observations, and either denying, refusing to acknowledge, or deflecting away from hard facts.
As someone who has experienced gaslighting as a form of abuse, this is what I remember from when I didn't know anything was off:
"Oh, I must have forgotten what really happened."
"I'm just not seeing it from their point of view."
"Everyone has their ups and downs. This is normal."
"I guess I wasn't thinking about what I was doing."
"I must have been wrong."
This is what I remember from when I first started realizing something was weird:
"How come every time I'm convinced they did something wrong, they just talk to me a few minutes, and I end up asking for their forgiveness? What has me so convinced I was right in the first moment?"
"I should start writing things down when they happen, so I can go back and check later when I'm confused."
"If every relationship like ours (familial, romantic, platonic) works this way, how come I never hear about it, or read about it, or see it anywhere else?"
Getting out and adjusting to the real world is hard, too, and comes with rapid swings of unfounded guilt, shame, fear, anxiety, and self-deprication that are completely unfounded in reality.
You've been conditioned to believe that you are entirely helpless and unable to think for yourself, possibly "crazy" or otherwise fundamentally impaired, and that there is a singular source of guidance that knows exactly what is right, and all of a sudden that pillar of support has vanished.
The immediate "after" that I recall looks like:
Constant uncertainty. Because nobody is there to tell you what's real and what isn't, you approach every situation thinking at it from all angles. Every question has fifty possible answers and most of them are wrong and you don't know which. If you choose wrong, the world will end.
A sense of helplessness. You feel that nothing you do is correct, and it's easier to make no choices at all- or you make wild, reckless, impulsive choices, because you feel you have nothing to lose.
Memory loss. I don't understand this one, but it's not like memoriescare being erased, but more like... you're so used to treating your memories as dreams or imaginations that you reflexively dismiss anything you recall as fake, and you can't believe anything you recall because you don't think it was real. Your abusers voice is in your head, wiping things away and telling you that you did the wrong thing. And you believe them, because they're the only constant you can rely on.
Missing the abuser, or the abusive dynamic. Because you know now that it wasn't healthy, but at least you knew where you stood. As long as you said the right things and acted the right way, agreed and obeyed and did as they expected, you felt like thevworld made sense. Now you have to figure out which parts of you really are broken, and which parts are working fine in a really weird way, and it's like tuning a piano when you've never played one before.
The long term "after"- for which I can only speak for myself- looks like:
Having to double-check, triple-check, and continue checking hard evidence of an event before responding in an active way.
Consulting with trusted friends to verify that your observations are legitimate and that your perceptions are valid. Following up with them to see if someone is really angry at you, or if you're just projecting anger onto them because it's what makes sense to your old pattern.
Obsessive collection of "evidence"- saving pictures, writing detailed journals, making recordings and video, never deleting emails or old texts, because you still don't quite trust yourself all the way and you're afraid that someone will cause you to doubt yourself again.
Continued self-doubt and being "gullible": I have straight up seen people flip me off to my face in front of witnesses and then immediately tell me, "No, I was just waving", and my first instinct is to believe them. For a few seconds, I *really do* believe them. Your brain is so trained to latch onto what people tell you to believe that its really, really hard to hold onto information that you already have.
Learning to take ownership over your own actions. (I didn't mess up because I'm "crazy", I messed up because I'm a person and people do that.)
Instinctively seeking approval. (Takes a lot of work to remind myself that I don't exit to make people happy, and that some people suck ass, and I can tell them to piss off.)
I don't intend to invalidate anyone currently struggling with this- if you feel that something is wrong, it probably is. That's the thought that got me out. Trust that feeling that something isn't right.
I just want people who don't know what to look for to know what gaslighting *actually* looks and feels like, so they don't just roll their eyes and think, "Oh, that word doesnt apply to me- I'm not some snowflake".
('Cause we all saw what happened with "triggered", right?)
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hmmm just imagine Jason Todd with a girlfriend pretty and kind like an angel and everyone is just shocked because 'how they're a couple??"
Think I went a little of ask for this one 😂 🦦
Jason calls you his angel for a reason.
You’re sweet, you’re kind, you’re downright beautiful/gorgeous and withheld an equally sweet, kind soul that bleeds through everything that you did or said. When you met Jason he was on the cusp of unconsciousness, finding him just slumped at your front door, severely injured. Anyone else who knew better would’ve left him but no, not you. You brought him -THE RedHood- into your house and home out of the kindness of your heart and patched him up as best as you could.
Heaven sent is another name of endearment that Jason called you and it held true on a plethora of occasions where he would find himself being dragged back at your doorstep, and it wasn’t long after that did Jason finally allow himself to pursue a chance at happiness by your side, and he’d be damned if it wasn’t the best decision he’s ever made in his entire life because being with you had been nothing short of a dream for Jason. A dream he never thought he’d get to live with the fucked up ordeal of having came back from the dead.
However when his family manages to catch wind of this because nothing stays secret for long, not by a long shot, their first thought was; how?
This wasn’t a slight towards Jason or his character but they couldn’t help but feel as though they’ve blinked and missed something extremely pivotal for this to have become the end result. They weren’t the only one to share this sentiment though as even Jason would be taken aback by your differences and often wondered if you were too different for your relationship to work.
It does however and it was one of the only times where Jason was grateful for being wrong for getting inside his own head, and just before he possibly ruins the best thing that has ever happened to him in a long, long while by self sabotage too. God only knows how much Jason would’ve hated himself for doing such a heinous thing to someone as underserving of such treatment as you.
So when Dick asks him one day ‘how did you manage to get someone like them?’ Whilst gesturing to you as you talked with the likes of Duke, Stephanie and Cass and getting along. Jason couldn’t think of a clear answer that would be enough to satisfy his brother’s curiosity because how was he meant to answer that question without it sounding generic and unoriginal.
‘Did you use any offhanded tactics to get them to be in a relationship with you?’ Damian asks and Dick gives him a look, only for the younger of the two of them to shrug his shoulders. ‘It was only a simple question Grayson.’
‘Yeah, just not one you ask when your brother comes home for the first time in months, and in a relationship nonetheless with the epitome of sweetness.’ Dick replied before looking over to Jason who was looking over at you with soft yet protective look on his face, but before Dick could say anything about how nothing was going to happen to you whilst in the Wayne Manor, Jason had already found the answer he has been looking for the entire evening.
‘They saved me.’ In the moment he said those words you looked over at him, Dick and Damian and smiled brightly that it never failed to knock the air out of Jason’s lungs upon seeing it. His angel, his heaven sent, the face he is blessed to see first and last thing in the mornings and late nights where he gently scolds you for staying up for him before kisses you in gratitude for doing so anyway.
Dick seemed content with this answer and meanwhile Damian looked visibly indifferent, he made a noise that said that he was also satisfied with this answer, just in time too as you came over to Jason and subtly held his pinkie with your own as you kissed his cheek. ‘You didn’t to tell me how cool your siblings were Jay!’ You began when Dick decided to join in on it too as he looked as Jason, betrayed. ‘You didn’t? Why not? Is it because you want your lovely partner to always be biased towards you?’ He pouts.
You chuckled and patted Jason on the bicep as you addressed Dick. ‘I’m always going to be bias towards my Jason.’ You admitted, causing a wave of warmth to flood Jason’s entire body upon hearing your confident confession. ‘For he is simply the best man I have ever met and that will never change.’
‘Never?’ Dick asked.
‘Never.’ You answered.
‘Even if he may be in the wrong sometimes?’ Damian asked this time and you shrugged, still smiling. ‘Not all of us are perfect beings and that’s a reality I’d accept rather than one where we’re all without flaw, physical or otherwise.’ Jason felt as though he might combust from your words alone but managed to compose himself enough to press a kiss to your temple to whisper against it. ‘Thank you baby.’
‘Anything for you Jaybirdie.’ You responded in kind, feeling him take hold of your hand, intertwining your fingers together as you rested your head against his bicep as you both continued to talk with Damian and Dick.
Yours and Jason’s relationship may not be what many expected it to be or make logical but why should it when you and Jason were more than happy together?
#jason todd x you#jason todd imagine#jason todd fluff#jason todd x reader#jason todd imagines#jason todd fanfic#jason todd fanfiction#jason todd fic#dc x y/n#dc x you#dc comics x reader#dc x reader#dc imagine#dc fic#dc fanfic#dc fanfiction
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