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i-cant-sing · 3 days

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Time Traveller AU pt 6

Part 1 is here. Part 2 is here. Part 3 is here. Part 4 is here. Part 5 is here. Time Traveller AU masterlist is here. Check out my MASTERLIST for more!

Its been a week since Baldwin finally came clean about the kiss with Charlotte, a week since you cleared of him "cheating on you", not that you cared if he did, and a week since you realised Guy tried and failed miserably to sabotage Baldwin through Charlotte.

Its also been a week over the due date you were supposed to return to Egypt to get your tools from Abbas, but its been hard to leave when Baldwin insists on spending time with you 24/7 because wants to make up to you for "suspecting his devotion to you".

He draped himself over your shoulders, caging you in his arms as he pecks your temple. "I'm sorry for making you doubt my love for you, princess. No, no- clearly, I'm the one at fault! Let me make it upto you~" Ugh, sometimes him being such a green flag is making it seem like a red flag. But you cant argue because... well, if you dont let Baldwin shower you in affection, then he might stop chanting "its my fault, princess" and change the narrative into "its your fault, princess and you need to be punished for doubting me- the KING, for slapping me- the KING, for thinking yourself so highly that you think i cant have all the women i want, me- the KING! To the dungeons you go, darling!"

Anyways, you both were now sitting down in the royal gardens, Baldwin's head laid in your lap as you worked your fingers through his luscious locks, absentmindedly braiding his hair while he made you tell some stories.

"And so, she found out her husband was cheating on her because she found out a jar of strawb- a jar of lard in her house." You looked down at his face, finding him already staring up at you, eyes full of awe. "And she doesnt eat lard. She hates it, so she never allowed it in the house."

Baldwin let out a small gasp. "And then what did this- Sharkerilla lady do?"

"Shakarina left Pickle. Divorced him." You told him, adding in small daisies in his hair. His face displayed pity. "Wow. And how do you know these people?"

You paused for a second. You cant explain to him how Shakira and Pique were celebrities and the concept of drama channels on youtube.

"We were neighbours." You hummed, patting his head. "There, I did your hair. Now I'm going-"

"No. Come on, we havent spent enough time." He whined, blue eyes looking at you pleadingly.

You scoff. "Baldwin, we've spent the entire day together. We ate breakfast and lunch together, we read books in the library, we looked at tiaras and crowns for the wedding, we even played chess." He lifted his head up from your lap and rested it on his palm as he leaned on his shoulder.

"And you lost all 5 games." Baldwin grinned, making you smack his forehead gently.

"I need to go-"

"Why?"

"Because I need to make arrangements for my trip to Egypt." You explained as Baldwin groaned, plopping his head face-first into your lap. "No." He mumbled against your dress.

"No?"

"No." He raised his head, pouting at you. "You're not going to Egypt. I miss you too much."

You gave him a lazy smile. "I'll be back soon."

"Not soon enough." He argued. "I have to go find my family, Baldwin." You continued on with your lie, raising a hand to caress his cheek. He sighed and leaned into your touch. "I can send the knights to find them." "They wont be able to. Only I will. Besides, I need to know what theyre like, if its even best to let them back into my life again, hm?"

He pondered over for a moment. "Then I will come along?" "What? Why?" He gave you a charming smile. "Because I dont want to part from you. Not for weeks, not for days, not even for-" He leaned up close to your face, eyes darting from your eyes to your lips back to your eyes. "-a minute."

Your face flushed and you looked to your side, using your hand to push his face away, making him chuckle as he grabbed the same hand and pressed a kiss to it. "You're so adorable, my little prude."

You shot him a glare. "I- I'm not a prude. But at least one of us should have a little shame."

He gave a chuckle, poking your still flushed cheek. "Shame? Whatever for? I love you." His eyes lit up in amusement as your head whipped towards him. Baldwin raised a brow at you. Its not the first time he's confessed, but... it still catches you offguard everytime.

"Did you hear me? I love you." He repeated, eyes still twinkling at how you continued to become flustered.

You opened your mouth and then closed it like an idiot, not knowing how to reply.

"Thank you." You finally said, looking anywhere but at him. He burst into a fit of laughter. "Oh god- I tell you- I love you and you say "thank you"? You really are something out of this world!" Baldwin teased you, making you huff.

"Lets not get off topic, Baldwin. You cant come with me to Egypt because you cant abandon Jerusalem. If your throne is empty, Guy- though he doesnt have the brain for it, or Salauddin or someone else will attempt to take your throne from you! You have a responsibility to your people! Keep them safe." You reminded him.

Baldwin stared at you before sighing, leaning back and resting his head on his arms. "You're always so smart, aren't you?" He smiled with his eyes closed. "I suppose it is a good thing that you care so much for your future subjects."

Next day, you were all set to leave for Egypt again. Baldwin and you stood at the gates of the castle as the kingdom all gathered around to bid you safe travels. You were ignoring Baldwin's stupid lovey dovey eyes boring holes into you, because there are people here and you dont want this blue orbed man to embarrass you.

But alas, he took your hand in his, making you look at him. He flashed you his dimples, bringing up your hand to press a kiss to it, the crowd cooing while you blushed (though it could be mistaken for anger with how hard you were frowning).

Tearing his eyes away from you, he addressed his people. "O people of Jerusalem! Your princess is going on an important journey. I ask you all to pray for her safety and well being!" The crowd looked on you two with awe, or more at Baldwin for being such a doting husband-to-be.

"While I know that your hearts must ache to see your princess depart from us for some time, I bring you good news to keep your hearts at peace as well." You looked at Baldwin in confusion. Good news? What is he talking about?

Baldwin smiled at you, the sunlight hitting his face at angle that made him look majestic.

"In 3 weeks time, the princess and I will marry!" Your eyes widened as the crowd erupted in cheer.

Baldwin hugged you close, and you whispered. "Three weeks? But I'll be gone for at least two! I wont have enough time to make-"

"Dont worry about a thing, princess. Sibylla and I will make all the arrangements necessary and trust me, it'll be a wedding for generations to remember." He pulled back, grinning at you as he pecked your forehead. "You just focus on returning safely, okay?"

Sibylla, Guy and their son were also there to bid you farewell. Sibylla pulled you in for a tight hug, promising to give you a grand wedding and that she'll keep your prefrences in mind. Their son ran off and Sibylla went to chase after him, leaving you alone with Guy.

"Bye." Guy gruffly said while you smiled tightly at him. "I know what you did, you buffoon." He looked at you slighted. "What the hell are you-"

"Charlotte? The letters? Yeah, we'll talk when I return. And you better not cause anymore trouble for me or else-" You turned to look at Baldwin, waving sweetly at him. Guy gulped, taking in your threat.

As usual, your first stop was at Salauddin's camp. You would go without stopping here, the knights Baldwin sent with you claimed to know the way but... you dont trust them to know how to survive the desert. And you knew you were right when some people from your caravan started feeling faint.

"Return to Jerusalem and take care of yourself." "But we cant just leave you, princess-" "You are not going to be able to serve me if you dont survive the desert. Salauddin's camp is near and with his guards combined with mine, I'll be more than safe. Go now. And tell the king that I insisted you returned." You assured them, commanding a few knights to guard them on their way back.

Looking ahead, you saw the sand hill beyond which Salauddin's camp was. Isabella, your lady-in-waiting, gave you your niqaab and chaddar.

"And then, he told me about who Charlotte was and what really happened. It was all a big misunderstanding." You told Salauddin as he moved his pawn.

"You believed him?" He raises a brow as you made your move.

"Of course! I already knew Guy was behind it. I figured it from the letters, and his face practically gave it all away when I confronted him about it." You reached under your veil to fan yourself. "Is it burning in here or am I just imagining it?"

Salauddin turned and brought you some cold water. "Guy could be a threat to you. Dont trust him."

You turned your head to the side, barely lifting your veil before bringing the glass underneath it to your lips, gulping it down as you let out a relieved sigh. "I know. Guy is a tool, and tools are meant to be used."

His lips quirked slightly at your words. Sitting back down, he played his move. "When do you plan on leaving Baldwin?"

"Soon. The plan is in motion." You took some time before moving your knight. Salauddin wasnt making this game easy for you this time and neither was the hot temperature.

He leaned forward, taking your knight with his bishop. "And how do you plan on doing that when your fiance has just announced your wedding date?"

You narrowed your eyes at him. "How did you- spies?" Salauddin's silence confirmed how news travelled so fast. "You dont need to worry. I'll be long gone before the wedding day."

"Care to indulge me on your plan?" He popped a date in his mouth.

"No." You replied making him glare at you. "If your plan involves relying on Guy, then you're even stupider than you look."

You scoff, pushing his king down. "I'm sorry, how many rounds have you won against me?" He smirks, though you suspect that he's just trying to cover up for being a sore loser.

"Maybe I just let you win so that you get to live." Of course, how can you forget his "win or you die" version of chess.

"Whatever you say, grandpa." His jaw clenched, making you chuckle. "Your existence gives me a headache. Leave."

As you walked out, you're suddenly hit with a wave of dizziness. Under your veil, your face is sweaty, you cant even use your hands to wipe it away because of how clammy they are, you even feel beads of sweat rolling down from your neck to your leg.

"Are you alright?" Salauddin came up behind you, eyes studying you stumbling a bit.

"Yeah- I'm just- hot..." You muttered, sweat gathering around your upper lip while your mouth felt like cotton. He watched you blink slowly as the sun hit you in the face, making you raise your hand to shield yourself, even though your muscle cramped.

"Y/n?" You heard him call you, but black dots clouded your vision and then in a second, you fainted.

You woke up to the sound of drums playing outside. Looking around, you recognised this to be the women's tent you had been in the first time Baldwin brought you here.

Isabella walked in, halting for a moment when she realised you were awake before rushing towards you. "Princess? Are you okay?" She poured you a glass of water, helping you drink it. "What happened?"

"You fainted from the heat. We were going to take you back to the kingdom but Sultan Salauddin advised us all to stay put here because the air was only going to get hotter for the rest of the day. And by night, it would be too cold for us to make it back." She smiled gently. "He was kind enough to offer us stay here."

You nodded and sighed. For sure none of you wouldve survived if you were to return to Jerusalem today.

You walked out of the tent to see it was night now. The drums you heard earlier were being played by some men of Salauddin's, accompanied by few women clapping and having an overall merry time around the bonfire.

You didnt spot Salauddin with them, but you suppose he's probably either working or resting.

The temperature had indeed dropped as night fell, and you wrapped a shawl around before joining the camp fire. You sat down on the ground with some women, smiling as they immeadiately welcomed you warmly. The one on your right was quick to show you her baby, and you recognised him to be the one you saved.

"Jibrael." She told you his name. The baby was almost a month old, and his chubby cheeks made you coo. Jibrael- or Gabriel, is an angel who acted as an intermediary between God and humans and as bearer of revelation to the prophets, most notably to Muhammad (PBUH). In Christianity, Gabriel was the archangel announcing the coming birth of Jesus Christ and John the Baptist. In Judaism, Gabriel is a helper to Daniel and a warrior angel for God's cause.

You played with the baby for a while before handing him back to his mother to be put down for sleep. It was getting cold now and most had already left to go to bed now. You wrapped the shawl around you closer, snuggling into it as your eyes gazed at the dancing flames. You felt someone sit next to you.

"How are you feeling now?" Salauddin asked, keeping his eyes ahead.

"I'm fine. Thank you for catching me."

"I didnt. You fell. It was funny." You turned to glare at him (the respectable gap between you two did not go unnoticed... or unappreciated by you.) and perhaps for the first time you saw him smiling. Genuinely.

Though his thick beard covered most of his lower third of the face, you could see his sharp jawline that sculpted his face. Strong. Hard. His lips, bottom one appearing to be plumper than the upper one, were resting in a relaxed smile.

The moonlight seemed to soften his sharp features, but his kohl lined eyes adorned with luscious lashes shone with amusement and... something in the orange hue of the bonfire.

He turned his head to you. "What?" You were thankful for your veil covering your expression for being caught staring at him like an idiot. You shake your head, dismissing him, turning your head back towards the dying fire.

"What are you going to do once you leave Baldwin?" Salauddin asked, stoking the fire.

"Leave."

"To where?" You shrug. "Anywhere. Maybe try finding my family. Or venture somewhere else."

"He wont give up so easily." You rolled your eyes. "Yeah yeah, because he loves me and all-"

"He wont forgive your betrayal." Salauddin cut you off. "He wont forgive you for the embarrasment. He wont forgive you for the insult of rejecting a king. He wont just- let you go." He looked at you, his tone haunting as he uttered the next words.

"Baldwin will hunt you down. And he will make you wish you were dead."

You stared at him, processing his words. Baldwin would... hurt me?

"Are we talking about the same man?" You ask him with a light chuckle, though your throat has ran dry.

He nods. "I know he seems like he couldnt hurt a fly, and physically, he couldnt until you cured him. But I've seen him on the battlefield. I've had him as my enemy and I've observed him obliterate people who just tick him off." He offered you some dates, and you took a few. You were hungry, and these looked pretty good right now.

"Baldwin is smart, calculating. He's the king, he has the power to end his enemy very easily. At the drop of a hat. But he doesn't. He waits for the perfect moment, or rather creates the perfect chance to torture any man who had the misfortune to be on the receiving end of his anger. And he does it with a completely cool, clear mind." And even though Salauddin has fought Baldwin many times, they both know they're only fighting for their people, for their religion. Its nothing personal, so they're technically not enemies.

"So what do you suggest I do to not piss him off so badly? I've already tried rejecting him respectfully."

He stayed quiet for a few moments, stoking the fire. He smiled when he felt your curious eyes on him.

"There is a way." He said.

"Which is...?"

His smile widened even more. "You're not ready for it yet." You frowned. "Drop the act, Salauddin. You came here by yourself because you wanted to tell me the plan. Stop teasing and just tell me." He chuckled hearing you become frustrated.

"In due time, Y/n. In due time." You roll your eyes, standing up. "I'm not going to beg you to tell me. But your "plan", which I dont think exists, it better not mess with my escape." You stomped back inside your tent, and Salauddin snickered as you tripped a bit on your chadar on the way in.

He stood up, giving a nod to the rest as they all settled in for the night.

"Salauddin!" You cried out, your eyes full of tears that he could see from a mile away, even if your were wearing a niqaab. He could feel your agony, your distress. You were standing in the middle of the desert alone, the boiling sun along with your black chadar covering you from head-to-toe, would only be increasing your body temperature. Why were you all alone? He left you with his caravan. Or did Baldwin leave you in this harsh enviorment to die? Did he find out you were going to leave him?

"Salauddin!" You called out to him again, your voice wet from all the crying. This time, he rode his horse towards you. Fast. He needed to get to you, even though the galloping hurt his shoulder. Yes, he got wounded while he was fighting. He sustained many injuries, many gashes, so much so that by the time he reached you, his white armour had turned bloody. But he was not bothered by it, no. He needed to reach you. You. How long have you been out here? Arent you dying of thirst?

Your arms were still wide open, though drooping from the lack of energy. He could hear you sobbing as you called him again, and he all but ran towards you, bodies colliding as he pulled you into a strong embrace. Muscled arms wrapped around you, comforting you that he's here now. You're safe now.

Salauddin looked around as you bawled into his chest, trying to see if everyone had really abandoned you here and... left you die.

You pulled away from him, but Salauddin didnt remove his hands from you. And thats when he felt the cloth you were wearing. It was too thin. The sun must've burned your skin now. Is that why you're crying? You're in pain?

In a blink, he removed his own thick black chadar that rested on his shoulders and wrapped it around you, pulling it over your head to stop more heat damage.

"Y/n?" He spoke softly as you continued to cry so brokenly as he adjusted the cloth over your body. "What happened?"

"Y-you left me!" You blubbered. He shook his head. "No. I- I left to go in battle. I couldnt take you along. It was dangerous-"

"You left me, Salauddin! You left me here! Baldwin- he hurt me! He hurt me so badly! And you weren't here to protect me!" You sobbed out, your eyes red and swollen from the tears. "I am a part of the ummah! I am a Muslim! You- you were supposed to keep me safe! On your honour, I was in your care! Why didnt you save me, Salauddin?"

Salauddin felt his heart being crushed at your words. He failed to keep you safe? But... he was at war. What was he supposed to do?

He grabbed your shoulders, pulling you to his chest as he rubbed circles into your back. "I'm sorry." He whispered, shushing you as your body shook from tears. "I'm here now. I promise to keep you safe, Y/n. I will never leave you again. I will never let anyone hurt you again. I swear, Allah as my witness, I will do everything to keep you safe." You pulled your head back from his chest, your red eyes looking at him weakly.

"You're too late, Salauddin." You whispered and a sharp sound whooshed through the air, making your body jolt in his arms. You both looked down and thats when he saw it-

An arrow. Poking through your chest.

"Y/n?" His voice trembled, watching the life drain out of your eyes.

You fell, and so did Salauddin, catching your body. He couldnt- he couldnt believe it. He cradled you in his arms, readjusting the chadar over you again, softly calling your name.

Wake up. Wake up, Y/n. Return to me.

Footsteps approached him, though he couldnt bare to tear his eyes from you. He already knew who it was.

"Why?" Salauddin asked him.

Baldwin kneeled down to his level, staring at you for a moment before yanking his arrow out of you, making a stream of blood gush out. Salauddin panicked, tried to cover the gaping wound with his hand. He looked at Baldwin in disbelief. This... this was not the Baldwin he knew. Baldwin was never so cruel- so heartless.

"She deserved it." Baldwin stated before stabbing him in the chest.

Salauddin continued to hold you in his arms, watching Baldwin leave on his horse as you two bled out to your deaths in the middle of the desert.

Salauddin woke up with a jolt, his forehead sweaty as he breathed fast. He could feel his heart beating against his chest loudly.

Nightmare. Thats all it was. He was still in his bed, in his tent.

He got up to fetch himself some water, taking sips to slow down his heart. Judging from the darkness, he knew it was still nighttime. It was quiet, everyone was asleep except for a few men he left to guard them.

It was quiet. Too quiet.

Salauddin whipped around just in time to knock the shadowy figure standing behind him with a sword. In a second, Salauddin had overpowered and snapped his neck, only then realising more shadows moving outside his tent.

"We're under attack! WAKE UP!" He yelled before grabbing his two swords and running out to defend his caravan.

You woke up to screaming and Isabella pulling you out of bed.

"We're under attack!" She says, yanking you out of the women's camp that was set on fire. Your eyes were wide and for a moment, you were frozen as you took the scene in front of you.

Fire. There was fire everywhere. All the camps were ablaze, along with some people being burned alive. Haunting screams echoed the entire area. Time slowed down as you saw Salauddin's men fighting... some people. You couldnt figure out who they were, but you knew they werent the knights Baldwin had assigned for you. No, you saw them fighting these mysterious figures as well. They were covered in dark clothes to blend in with the night, had hoods and masks covering their faces but they fought skilfully and very fast.

"Princess, we must leave!" Isabella caught your attention again, dragging you away from the chaos. You saw her following a knight- your knight, who led you towards a horse for you to escape with.

Salauddin... where's Salauddin?

You looked back frantically and you spotted him in the sea of flames, cutting through multiple armed one with his two swords slicing them brutally.

For a moment, your eyes met and then in the next, he screamed your name.

Isabella had pushed you away just in time as two men came at you with swords. You knight yelled at you to run. Again, Isabella pulled you to make an escape but it wasnt long before you two got separated by a woman who was on fire, running in between you two.

"H-help her." You told Isabella who took of her shawl to put out the fire. In the middle of all this commotion, you heard a distinct cry.

A baby's cry.

Jibrael!

It was coming from one of the tents. You ran in, looking around for the baby before spotting the bassinet. You grabbed the crying baby and held it close to your chest, trying to shush it as you walked towards the exit only to halt when you saw who was blocking it.

The shadowy figure. He was wearing dark hood and mask, while the rest of his armour was made of leather. He was armed with swords, daggers and a satchel.

It clicked. Assassin.

The assassin stared at you with dark eyes taking a step forward. You backed away, holding the crying baby protectively to your chest. He tilted his head at you, and for a second, you thought you saw amusement in his eyes.

Slowly, he walked out of the tent without saying a word but he stood right behind the curtain of the tent. You saw his shadow pull out his sword before standing there still.

What is he doing?

You turned around, hoping to find another exit but thats when you saw it. Two more shadows stood outside the tent and then they dropped something on the tent walls.

Fire. They lit the entire tent on fire and stood outside with their swords, giving you the choice to either die by their swords or burn yourself alive.

The fire spread fast, burning the flammable tent easily. Dark smoke started to surround you making you cough. The baby continued to cry harshly and you pulled him under your chadar to protect him from the fire and smoke.

But you didnt realise it until it was too late. Your chadar, your clothes had caught on fire as well. You screamed for help, screamed in agony as your skin burned. It felt like you were being branded, felt like someone was ripping your skin off.

Is this it? Is this how it all ends for you? Suffocated, skin charred, body naked? In a period where no one knows who you really are?

You fell to your knees before hunching over the baby, cradling it in your arms as its harsh cries burst your ears, protecting him from being burned for as long as you can.

Allah... Allah... Allah...

Through the thick smoke, a figure ran and covered your body with a thick cloth, patting down to put out the flames.

He picked your trembling body up, your arms still wrapped around the baby protectively. He walked through the ablaze tent, his face still covered by the smoke, or perhaps your vision was too blurry.

He exited the tent, the smoke cleared out and a gush of air filled your lungs. But you were burned, suffocated and exhausted.

The last thing you saw before your world faded to black was Salauddin's face.

You woke up to the sound of Quran recitation. A gentle, steady voice read the words beautifully.

Fluttering your eyes open, you looked around the room for the source. To your side, you found Salauddin reciting the Quran with his eyes closed in concentration. Was he a hafidh? (Hafidh is someone who has memorised the Quran completely).

He opened his eyes when finished reciting, looking stunned for a second to find you awake before a small smile graced his lips.

"We're in Egypt now." He informed you before concern washed over his face. "How are you feeling now? I changed your bandages in the morning, but I think its time to replace them." He grabbed the bowl of water and bandages on your side.

"B-bandages?" He stopped before understanding your confusion.

"You were in the tent when the assassins set it on fire. Your... clothes caught on fire, which stuck to your skin and burned it as well. I had to remove the remains of your clothes to treat your burns-"

"What?!" Your eyes looked down to confirm his words, he had indeed changed your clothes. "Why did you-" Your hands touched your face, heart sinking as you realised your veil was not there.

"You removed my niqaab?! My clothes?!" Your fury was only a disguise for your fear of what he'd seen, what he'd done to you in your vulnerable state.

He shook his head. "I had to do it as soon as we were safe. You were hurt-"

"Why? Why did you have to do it? Why not Isabella or any of the other women?!"

His face turned solemn. "Isabella... was gravely injured. She was in no position to look after you. Most people- most women from my tribe did not survive. The few who did were also wounded. The men... I just thought you wouldnt prefer someone you didnt know to look at you in such state." Salauddin looked at you, his eyes clear. "I did not do anything unbecoming of a man. Allah as my witness, I did not touch you with ill intent."

Perhaps it was the way he said it, or perhaps you just wanted to keep your mind at peace but... you believed him.

"How's Isabella now?" You let him change the dressings on your arms, watching him like a hawk as he moved quickly and carefully, no unnecessary touches or lingering that would make you uncomfortable. Even when he treated the the burns on the back of your legs, he worked fast, applying some balm on the red areas. The balm was like a cool gel against your irritated skin.

"She's better now. Just needed some rest." He replied as he finished wrapping the bandage on your legs. "Your back." Salauddin softly asked. You hesitated.

He sighed. "Y/n... I need to apply the balm or your skin will scar." You slowly turned around, holding your breath as you removed the robe from your back partially.

If he wanted to, he could've done anything when you were unconcious. You calmed yourself.

Again, Salauddin's hand worked fast, applying the balm quickly and placing some gauze over the marks. He pulled your robe over your back again, letting you turn around with a flushed face.

"My... my face?" You asked cautiously. You did not know if damage had been done there as well.

Salauddin understood you. "Fortunately, your face was save from the flames." He stood up and went over to the wardrobe to grab you a white chadar, handing it to you so that you cover your head with it. "Maybe when you were ducking over Jibrael, your arms covered both you and him from the fire."

"Jibrael...?" You asked. He smiled assuringly. "He's fine. You saved him... again." You sigh in relief. At least this wasnt all for naught.

Salauddin sits back down in the chair and though you've covered your hair with the shawl, he keeps his eyes trailed down on his hands in his lap. "I must ask you of one thing." You peeked at him before keeping your eyes focused on your lap as well.

"Will you... tell Baldwin about this incident?" Why would you when it would only cause Baldwin to panic and prevent you from leaving the castle, or his sight at all? You still need to come here to get parts for your time machine and even if the machine was working, you need to be able to use it without Baldwin or his army of knights breathing down your neck.

"No. It will only cause misunderstandings between you and him and I need to punish the real culprit for it."

He frowned but didn't raise his gaze. "And who might that be?"

"Those men... they were assassins, right?" He hummed. "Judging by how vicious they were, I think they were Ismailis."

Ismailis were a sect of Shia Muslims. Basically, like the great schism of Christianity into Orthodox and Catholic Church, Islam also had a schism that divided it into Sunni and Shia Islam. Shia Islam further had divided into different sects, of which one was Ismailis.

Sunni and Shia Muslims have been at war with each other since the beginning over religious differences. And considering Salauddin was not only Sunni Muslim but also targeted many Ismaili assassins so that they would not oppose his rule, it would be an understatement that they wanted Salauddin dead.

But... you know Salauddin had already gotten rid of most of the assassins and established his dominance over them. You're sure he's already had a peace treaty with them.

"Salauddin, you have an agreement with the Ismailis, don't you?" You watched his eyes widen slightly. "You're on peaceful terms with them at the moment?"

"How did you know?" Of course, the great Sultan Salauddin, an orthodox Sunni, wouldn't want the world to know that he spared the Ismailis. No, that would stir rumours that Salauddin has empathy for Ismailis, for the Shias, and which would lead to the rumours of hum being a Shiite Muslim.

You waved him off. "I know your character. I know of your mercy. Besides, I know both you and the Ismailis have a bigger common enemy- the Christians. Its more than likely that the Ismailis are supporting you so that you defeat Baldwin and claim Jerusalem, then they can focus on you. Plus, if the Ismailis wanted to kill you, why wait until now? They know you've been camping outside Jerusalem for months now." Salauddin was... impressed by your deduction skills to say the least. How are you connecting the dots so fast? Just who are you, Y/n?

You rubbed your chin. "So that means that someone not only hired the assassins but also wants us to think that the Ismailis were behind it all." Who could it be? Someone who wants to harm Salauddin but... they also wanted to harm you. It couldnt be the Roman Catholics or other Christians. No, they'd know better than to interfere with Baldwin, their Holy Emperor's war. Especially not with his wife-to-be in harms way. Who... who would know that you're with Salauddin and still attempt an assassination-

"Guy." You muttered, pinching the nose of your bridge. Of course, its fucking Guy, shit for brains Guy who cant sit still and wait his turn to play king.

"Guy? Why would he attack me when you're still here?" Salauddin's mind immeadiately gives an answer as soon as he asks out loud.

"Because I am here." You groan. "He's trying to eliminate us both, or at the very least- me, while I'm with you so that he can provoke Baldwin to go to war with you because you "killed" his future wife. He would tell Baldwin that it doesnt matter if they were Ismailis or not, we were all Muslims and this is just how Muslims are! He'd send Baldwin off to not only go to war with you but rather go to war with Muslims everywhere! And knowing Guy, he probably hopes that Baldwin dies in the process of his rampage. If you, me or Baldwin are all dead, or even one of us is, then Guy will only have to worry about dealing with one less person. His best bet was probably to get rid of me and you both, then have Baldwin go to war with all the Muslims who killed his fiancee. He's using all of us as pawns so that he gets to sneak on to the throne and be king!"

You heard Salauddin sigh. Perhaps he agreed with your theory. Perhaps he didnt. Whatever he may think, you know he will still conduct a thorough investigation of his own to find out who the real culprit is,

"Dont worry, I will deal with Guy. In fact, I'll let you have him to slaughter as you please." Of course, Salauddin will kill Guy. He has to pay for the blood of all his people.

Salauddin watched you get up from the bed and walk towards the vanity. "How long will these take to heal?" You asked, referring to your burns. "Usually take about a month, but the balm I used will significantly fade the marks." Good. You dont need Baldwin freaking out over them.

He stood up to take his leave. "I'll check on what information they've been able to gather from the assassin we caught. You-" He pointed towards the bed. "Rest. I mean it. These burns will only get worse in the heat outside, thats why I gave you the coolest room in the palace." He continued to glare at you until you finally sighed and sat on the bed. "I have to go see Isabelle-" You tried but he raised his hand. "No. You are to stay here, in your room. No one gets in, and no one gets out. I dont trust anyone to not try to kill you, not even in your own entourage- whatever is left of them. My men are stationed right outside. If you need anything, you tell them. But you are not to leave your chambers."

"I'll see you at dinner." He left and you saw the guards stationed outside your door.

The great thing about Egyptian palaces was that they had big windows to allow for ventilation. So you were already out of the window and climbing along the edge. You were about to jump when you heard someone call you.

"P-princess?!" Isabelle looked at you in horror. Apparently, you had climbed down near the balcony of her room. "Oh hey, Isabelle! How are you now?"

"I- I'm fine- princess, please get down from there!" She practically begged, fearing for your life. You climbed over her balcony and hugged her. "I'm so glad you're okay! Because I need you to do me a favour." You gave her a sweet smile while she looked at you in confusion. "See, I need to go out for a bit but Salauddin has told me to stay in and rest. So... I need you to cover for me again, just like last time."

"I- what- princess-"

"I wouldnt ask you if it wasnt of grave importance." You pleaded, finally making her give in. "Okay, I'll go to your room-" You stop her when she begins walking away.

"You cant just walk in there. There's guards stationed there and they wont let you in."

"Then how am I supposed to get in?"

You smiled at her. She didnt like that smile. It wasnt... well meaning.

"Well..." You looked at the balcony and she followed your gaze, almost immediately coming to tears.

"Princess please-"

"I am right here. I will help you, I promise Isabelle! I wont let you fall."

After helping a trembling Isabelle climb into your room, you had finally made your way to the madrassa. You had covered your face with your chadar and sneaking inside was no feat.

Abbas jumped out of his seat the moment you entered.

"Y/n! I thought you forgot all about me- wait what happened to your hands?" He referred to the bandages.

"I had an accident while conducting an experiment." "What experiment? Can I be a part of it? Please please please-"

"Abbas." You silenced him. "Business first. Did you make the tools I asked you to?" He quickly ran to his desk and pulled them out from the drawer. You examined them. They werent the best but you could make do with them. You nodded before asking for a paper so that you could draw the last few bits you needed.

"I need these by the end of this week." Abbas chuckled. "Oh I thought you were joking. How do you expect me to build- whatever this is! in a week? No way. I would need to get all the material and-"

"Abbas. I need it this week. I dont care how, but you have to do it."

He looked at you suspiciously. "Maybe if you could just tell me what it is that you're making-"

"No. I cant. And you will make me this by the end of the week, if not earlier because I have a very good reward waiting for you."

Abbas rolled his eyes. "I dont need your money-"

"I will let you ask me anything you want. Any question on any topic you'd like." You knew Abbas's thirst for knowledge.

You saw the twinkle in his eyes. "I will still take the money." "Of course, but I'll pay you after you make me this." He sighed and agreed.

"Wait- check this please?" He handed you his journal that had some math equations. You huffed, grabbing his pen and working on the mistakes. "I'm doing this just so that you do my work." You gave him some other math problems you did in grade 8 and handed it back to him.

You turned to leave before pausing.

"Abbas?" He hummed. "I think... we should set some security measures." You whispered.

"Whatever for?"

"Just in case someone came looking for me or my work. You know you're not supposed to tell anyone about this."

"I couldnt even if I wanted to." He tilted his head. "Why would someone come looking for you? Are you in trouble?"

You shake your head. "No. But you're aware of how other... scholars are eager to steal ideas." He nodded, being a victim of such crime.

"What do you have in mind?"

Salauddin was informed when you had returned to the palace. Of course he knew the moment you left. This was his Egypt. Not a bird flies without his knowledge here.

He sent out a spy after you, both to keep you safe and to follow you around. He couldnt help but let out a huff when he was told of your daring climb out of the window. Didnt he tell you to stay in bed?

"This girl..." He grumbles.

The spy told him that you went inside the madrassa. Why? What business could you possibly have there?

Perhaps you're creating a poison? To kill Baldwin? No, there would be easier ways to get poison. You did tell him and Baldwin that you were going to Egypt to find your family, but he has a hard time believing that.

Just what were you upto?

He'll find out soon enough. This is his kingdom, he finds out things. And he'll find out your secret too.

He knocked on your door before entering. You were sitting on your bed, your face now covered with a niqaab and your hair with his white chadar. His clothes. He felt something warm in his heart at the thought.

"How are you now?" He asked, his hands clasped behind his back.

"I'm fine. Just bored waiting here all day." You sighed exasperatedly.

Such a liar.

"I apologise for not being able to entertain you. I was busy with the assassin." You looked at him in anticipation. "He didn't reveal much but he did say that they were hired. I suppose that would bring us closer to your theory."

He watched your eyes narrow in thought. "It has to be Guy. He knew I was going to the desert to you first. He needed to get rid of me without anything to come back on him. Coward."

The door was knocked.

"I hope you dont mind- I had them bring dinner up here." Salauddin explained, letting the servants in. They set down a dastarkhawan in the balcony. A red table cloth was set on the ground, onto which many dishes were placed. You both sat down on cushions, the area was lit up with candles placed. You were busy admiring the view of the pyramids from your seat while Salauddin poured you some ginger kehwa.

"Here." You lifted your niqaab a bit to sip the hot tea, a sigh escaping your lips. Salauddin's lips quirked a bit but he, like you, kept his eyes focused on the pyramids.

You picked up the plate of dates from your side, knowing how fond he is of them. "Here." You mimicked his voice, making him smile as he grabbed a piece.

You both silently ate, admiring the view and enjoying each others presence.

Some time later, you were both done with dinner and just sat in silence. That is until Salauddin spoke.

"I'm sorry." You looked at him. "For letting you get hurt."

You exhaled, trailing your eyes back towards the night sky that was littered with gleaming stars.

"I know. But you shouldnt be, Salauddin. I'm not made of porcelain."

I know. I saw you jumping off the palace walls with the confidence of an assassin and the grace of a headless chicken.

"Still, you're under my care. I am responsible for you-"

"I free you of this burden." You're not a burden. "I am not that hurt and I am not scarred for life. If anything, all that incident made me question is just how far would man go?" Your eyes glazed over as you recalled the incident in the tent, where the assassin left you and the baby to burn to death. You could understand killing you, but a baby? He was willing to let a baby burn?

"It makes me believe just how barbaric people were to the Ahl al-Bayt (family of Prophet Muhammad PBUH). How easy it was for them to slaughter his lineage, how easy it was for them to keep water from them, how their hearts did not halt for a moment when they heard the cries of Ali Asghar- who they killed with an arrow in the neck." Your eyes glistened. "A baby. He was just a baby. How would've his father felt in that moment, holding his dead son in his arms, knowing he had to bring him home to his wife?" The battle of Karbala was one of the most heart wrenching tragedies of Islam and whats worse is that Prophet Muhammad knew of it years before it happened. He knew his own grandsons will face martyrdom years before it actually happened, when they were just little children in his arms.

"Man is cruel." Salauddin stated.

"But Allah made man. Why... would he allow man to be so cruel? Even animals are not this merciless." You wondered.

"Because man cannot see God." He says. "There are signs of His existence, signs for those who wish to be guided. Animals can see God. Angels can see God. Humans... Allah has made us with the ability to think, to choose. Man chooses to be cruel when he forgets that Allah is watching, that these things- the stones, the trees, everything around him? They're all living beings who will testify against man." He smiles. "But that is why the true believers also have a greater reward in the hereafter. What do you think of the reward, of what you'll get when you enter heaven? You dream of wealth, of food, of all luxuries. But there's a greater reward waiting for us. Do you know what that is?"

You gave a slight shake of your head.

"The true believers will see Allah. They will get to meet their Lord, their Creator, the One who saw them through it all, the One who knows their secrets and kept them hidden, the One continued to shower His blessings upon them even when they were not grateful." Those words... they comforted you. How peaceful it is to the heart to hear that your Creator waits for you. The One who has seen you shed tears and took care of you in this world will also take care of you in the next. And at the same time, this is such devastating news for the sinners too. Those who act selfishly, who forget who their Lord is, they will end up in hell and will never get the opportunity to see their Creator again, to ask of mercy from the most Merciful.

"Still..." You mumbled, wanting to find an excuse for such wickedness.

"It is not our place to ask why, Y/n. Allah does not owe us answers, explanations. He already has given us His book for guidance, his prophets for example. But know this- everything happens for a reason. Maybe the battle of Karbala was just to show us how quick man can turn on his own. Perhaps in the future, a time will come when people will kill many women and children, slaughter men so brutally while the entire world watches and yet... no one does anything. And then people will wonder- surely, man is not so evil. Surely, man wouldn't kill innocent children. Perhaps then they will remember history."

Salauddin woke up with a sigh. He had gone to sleep after he left your room last night, but he woke up from yet another dream he had of you. You. You. You. Since that night in the desert, he's been having constant dreams about you. Its either you dying at the hands of Baldwin or Guy, or its you asking him to help you. Tonight, he dreamt of you two celebrating Ramadan together, with you picking up the plate and offering him dates, however unlike dinner, you were sitting much closer to him in his dream, by his side. So close, he could see himself in your eyes.

Salauddin wasnt vain enough to admit it to himself- he had feelings for you. But what were they?

Lust? Not really, he's seen far prettier women than you. Beauty... is subjective and Salauddin is a firm believer in "beauty is in the eye of the beholder".

Admiration? No. He admires your intelligence and your wit but Salauddin also has those qualities.

Infatuation? Sure he does think about you often during the day but not enough to call it obsession.

No, its love. It has to be. His heart doesnt know what exactly it is about you that draws him in. His mind doesnt comprehend why he feels like you belong with him but his soul, every fibre of his being screams that you do.

Allah has created someone for someone. He created Eve for Adam, He creates a woman from the rib of the man.

Salauddin touches the side of his chest, just above his abdomen.

Perhaps you're his missing rib.

You were smart, you were daring, you were also stupid enough to put yourself in harms way but it was... endearing. More importantly, you were the only person who could bicker with him, stand your ground against him and get away with it too.

He sat down on a chair, looking out at the pyramids. Like the man he's named after (Prophet Yusuf/Joseph), Salauddin believes in dreams having meaning. Perhaps its a way for God to talk to you, to warn you or guide you.

And from all his dreams about you, he's come to interpret it that he must save you from Baldwin... and everyone else. And he can save you- he can save you without you having to go through the trouble to be plotting against Baldwin and endangering yourself by working with Guy.

He could marry you.

If you were to marry Salauddin, you would become the queen of Egypt and the wife of the strongest Muslim leader of the time. Not only that but the entire ummah, Muslims around the world will come together as one to fight against Baldwin, against anyone who dares to harm you. You would be safe, you would be secure by his side as his wife.

But the plan is easier said than done.

Baldwin wouldnt backdown so easily. He would wreak havoc and if he's as obsessed with you as Salauddin has seen him, then he wouldnt stop at nothing to get you back. Baldwin will have to be dead for you to be safe from him.

Besides Baldwin, you yourself also are a hurdle. You havent shown any interest in him (which is understandable because you're engaged) but he doubts you're interested in marrying anyone at all. You're not one to be affected his wealth or status, you dont go for materialistic things. He's sure if he were to ask your hand, you would laugh hysterically and then maybe try mocking him. And Salauddin does not want to force you to marry him. He wants you to want him.

There is a way he could convince you. All he has to do is make himself look better than any man, especially Baldwin because you do seem to have a soft spot for him despite trying to sabotage him.

A sinister idea comes to mind.

What if Baldwin breaks up with you?

If Baldwin, for any reason, decides not to marry you then not only will you be free from him but a war will be avoided.

All Salauddin has to do is give Baldwin a reason to break up with you. He could send some concubines to him, but he doubts Baldwin would use them. And even if he did, it isnt reason enough for him to call off things with you. No, the only way Baldwin would break up with you is... if you're unfaithful to him. You dont need to cheat, dont need to sleep with any man. No, you dont have to do anything at all. All he has to do is make sure you're in the right place at the right time and Baldwin's there too, just enough to create doubt in his mind. And the ball will roll from there. Baldwin will continue to second guess your loyalty to him until he's driven himself insane. Then he'd leave you without ever punishing you for a crime he thinks you committed but has no proof of. Thats when Salauddin will swoop in as your knight in shining armour and you'll see that all men but him are shit and you'll say yes to his proposal-

No.

He sighed, rubbing his temples. Despite it being a perfect plan, the safest plan- Salauddin cant bare to stain your character. He cannot spread a rumor about you being unfaithful. He cannot have anyone talk badly of you, even if it will end up with you in his arms. You're important to him. And if you ever figure out that Salauddin was the one behind it all, you'd never forgive him. You would never trust him.

The thought of you not trusting him, just like you dont trust him enough to tell him why you sneaked out of the palace, it hurts him. He doesnt know why but he wants you to trust him- trust him enough that you come to him with your problems and have faith that he will solve them for you. He will keep you safe. He will protect you.

He will have to find another way.

Salauddin offered the morning prayer before reciting the Quran, asking Allah for guidance for his problems and good health for you.

He walked out of his room and turned to the corridor where your room was, only to find you sneaking out of the room with Isabelle. You were still wearing his white chaddar, and it engulfed your small body like a blanket as you hurriedly walked down-

You tripped on the bottom of the long chaddar and fell face first.

"Princess!" Isabelle cried out as she helped you up, but you quickly dusted yourself off and continued talking her ear off as if nothing had happened, the tail of the chaddar trailing behind you as Isabelle walked beside you to keep up with what you were saying.

"Idiot..." He whispered to himself, though he was smiling. He called a servant and ordered him to bring the finest chaddars and niqaabs for you. He cant have you tripping all over the place because you wear his chaddar that was too big for you, despite how adorable you looked in it.

You knocked on his door.

"Salauddin, I was going to the market-"

"And you came to ask for permission? Okay, granted." He waved you off with a smirk.

You rolled your eyes. "Where do you get the audacity- nevermind. I came to ask if you'd lend me a few gold coins? I need to buy some things, souvenirs if you will." You had lost your coin purse in the desert and you need to pay Abbas.

He raised a brow. "What do you need? I can have it brought to you here."

You pursed your lips. Why is he being difficult? "I dont know what I need until I look. Just give me some money, I promise to pay you back as soon as I can."

He stood up, walking upto you but you neither backed away nor moved your eyes from him. "Its not about the money." He pulled out a pouch and dropped it in your hands. "I worry for your safety. Who knows how many others Guy has hired to kill you? I'm coming along."

"Aww, you're worried about me? That's so sweet-"

"I wouldnt want my image to tarnish because a guest died in my care." Your smile dropped as you grumbled something under your breath.

"Whatever. I still dont need you to tag along-"

"Good thing about being the sultan is that I dont need anyone's permission." He cut you off before walking past you. You stomped after him. "Salauddin, dont you have work-"

"You can either come with me or stay in your room for the rest of your stay here." He stated.

"What?" He heard you snicker beside him. Your eyes twinkled with amusement. "Oh, its just these rags suit you a lot." Salauddin and his guards had worn disguises to blend in with the commoners. He didnt want to draw attention to you two.

He rolled his eyes. "I have to blend in for your safety-" "I have never looked more in danger than I do right now. Look around and see people staring at a lady dressed so modestly is surrounded by brooding men wearing rags." You giggled as Salauddin looked around to see some people were indeed looking your way.

You stopped at a small stall that was selling some jewellery. You were looking at some rings, trying to choose something for Sibylla. The shopkeeper, an old man must've seen Salauddin standing over your shoulder looking around for any suspicious men.

"Son, why dont you help your wife pick something? Focus on her!" The shopkeeper said, catching you both off guard. You looked at Salauddin and laughed at his surprised face. Continuing to pull his leg, you stared up at him and batted your lashes. "Well, husband? What do you think would suit me?" You asked raising two different earrings to your face. One had a ruby in it, the other had sapphire.

He looked at you for a moment.

"Neither."

Your smile underneath your veil vanished, and you placed the earrings back on the table.

"The blue opal ones." He nodded his head as the shopkeeper handed him the tear drop gold earrings that had the precious stones fixed in it. He brought the earrings near your face, never touching it as his eyes assessed his pick.

"They bring out your eyes." He said before paying the old man and giving them to you, all while you were looking at him in awe.

"Wait! Why did you pay? I had the money." You two had begun walking again. "You mean the money I gave you?" You frowned. "I'm gonna pay you back." He smiled. "You dont need to. I have enough. As for the earrings... consider them a gift."

"Gift?"

He hummed, his chest puffed up. "Part of the hospitality of the sultan."

You glared at him before smiling. "Thanks." You two continued to walk around the market, Salauddin gave alms to the poor he encountered. You were standing at another stall, watching in fascination as the man ground up the black powder and mixed it with oils to make kohl. He filled it up in a beautiful vessel before asking if you'd like to try it.

"Oh, I dont know how to." Especially not without a mirror, which the man didnt have. But he was persistent to sell his product and when he looked at Salauddin's kohl lined eyes, he offered it to him.

"Would you apply it on your wife?" This time, Salauddin didnt react like he did the earlier when he was associated with you. He took the wooden stick dipped in the kohl and looked at you for permission.

You gave a nod. He walked upto you, gently cupping your veil covered face. You thanked God for the niqaab, or else he would've seen how violently you were blushing.

"Chin up." He whispered before tilting your chin up. Your eyes shifted as they stared into his brown ones. "Open wide." He ordered, even though your eyes were already saucer shaped from the close proximity.

He began tracing the soft edge of the stick along the waterline of your right eye. He seemed to have noticed that you were holding your breath. "Relax." He softly commanded, patting your cheek with his thumb. That broke you out of your trance as you narrowed your eyes at him.

"Dont tell me what to do." You grumbled. "Open wide." He ordered again bringing the stick up to your left eye for a second coat. You hated the way he commanded you, hated that he seemed to be having his fun with this.

"Dont order-"

"If you dont listen to me, I will marry you today." Your eyes blew wide open in shock.

"What-?!"

"Hush." He smiled placing kohl on your now wide eyes. "Whats wrong? You seemed to enjoy playing my wife but when I joke to marry you, you dont like it."

He's... joking?

Without realising, you blinked causing the still wet kohl to spread in your eyes. Salauddin had pulled the stick back just in time to not poke your eye out.

You hissed in pain, raising your hand to rub your eyes but Salauddin caught your wrist pushing it down.

"Open your eyes, Y/n. Look at me. I said- look at me." You opened your eyes to stare at him, your vision blurry from the mixture of tears and kohl.

Salauddin grabbed his handkerchief and began to dab the excess away as he tutted at you to stay still. Once he was done wiping the excess away, he blew cold air on your irritated eyes gently.

"I swear... if you dont sit still, I really will marry you today." He threatened you as he watched your red eyes glare at him. He didnt like that you were in pain, even if your own stupidity was the cause of it. This time when he applied kohl, you didnt dare to move an inch.

Fortunately, he worked faster this time around.

He gave a nod of approval when he was done. You dont know whether it was because he liked how your eyes looked now or if he was admiring his own work.

Salauddin handed the man money before taking a few bottles of kohl.

For the next hour, you two walked around in silence mostly. The image of your kohl lined eyes occupied his mind, not only because of how beautiful they were but also all the emotions that switched in a matter of seconds. You could try and hide your feelings all you want but your eyes tell. The eyes... they're the window to one's soul.

He saw attraction, anger, mesmerisation, disgust and pain in your eyes. Or maybe he's overthinking this. Maybe it was all just momentary and you really do hate the idea of being married to him.

You were both standing at yet another shop, this one was selling dates. Salauddin walked inside the shop a little more to inspect the quality of the dates, expecting you to be following behind him but when he turned around, you were gone. He walked outside the shop, hoping to find you there but it seemed like you had vanished. Even his guards hadnt seen you.

And then, as Salauddin whipped his head around, he saw the silloutte of your chadar disappearing around the corner. He ran after you, hoping to not lose you in the crowd but as soon as he turned around the corner, he couldnt spot you anywhere. He ran down the street, looking left and right but you werent there.

Where are you, Y/n?

He began walking back towards the main street when in the corner of his eye, he caught the sight of a familiar chadar. He turned his head to the right and there you were, standing with your back to him under the shadow of the large canopy of the shop talking to some man.

He walked up behind you, the man you were talking to seeing him first.

"Y/n." He snapped. You turned startled before your shoulders relaxed at the sight of him. "Oh, its just you. Did you buy the dates?"

Dates? You're asking him about dates after you just made his heart stop for a few minutes?

"Why did you leave me?" Ya Allah, that came out way more desperate than he wanted it to.

"I was getting something from this man." He raised a brow, almost as if he didnt believe you. You sighed. "This is Abbas. I hired him to make some things for me?"

"Such as?" You narrowed your eyes at his accusatory tone before nodding at Abbas, who then pulled out a heaxagonal shaped board that looked somewhat similar to a-

"Its 3 people chess!" You exclaimed, bouncing on your feet as you handed it to Salauddin. "I designed it and had Abbas make it for you!"

"For me?" He asked, turning the board around as he tried to understand how it would work.

"Yeah. I wanted to thank you for saving my life. And for your hospitality. And for lending me money."

His eyes softened slightly. "You dont need to thank me, Y/n. Its... my duty. I'm responsible for you." You waved him off. "Yeah yeah. Look, just take this and I'll teach you how to play so that one day you could play it with your wife and... kid? Or maybe with your wife and Baldwin? Or two wives-?"

"Y/n, I appreciate the gift but I would appreciate your silence more now." You pouted at his words but never the less, you both left to return to the palace, unaware of the eyes watching you two.

The mysterious figure wrote down what he'd seen before using messenger eagle to deliver the note to Jerusalem.

It had almost been a week in Egypt. You and Salauddin were having lunch together when a guard came to him and whispered something in his ear, the sultan frowning.

"Whats wrong?" You asked him.

He looked at you. "Baldwin... he's coming to Egypt."

"What? When?"

"He's crossed the desert. He should be getting here today, in a few hours." Salauddin was still frowning. Why is Baldwin coming to Egypt?

You shook your head. "Baldwin wouldnt ever leave Jerusalem, not unless..." Your eyes widened at the realisation.

"He's coming for a war." Salauddin confirmed.

Fuck.

#yandere baldwin #yandere salauddin #baldwin iv #the leper king #king baldwin iv #salauddin #time traveller au #male yandere x reader #yandere x darling #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere x y/n

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luveline · 2 days

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Eddie and Roan —Roan’s having a hard time adapting to the new babysitter. stepmom!reader, 1.4k

Eddie’s car is parked poorly on the driveway, but it’s there, and it’s nice to see after a long day. You park snugly behind him, pull your purse onto your shoulder, and rush out of your car, up the steps to the house.

You open the heavy front door.

“Roan?” you ask, greeted by the smell of Eddie’s tomato pasta and fresh bleach. “Eddie, did you mop?”

“Sasha mopped,” Eddie corrects from the top of the stairs. “She’s up here.”

“Sasha?”

“Roan.” He smiles at you. “Sasha is long gone home, baby. And if I were you I wouldn’t say her name. It hasn’t got me super far.”

You wince, hanging your purse and coat over the bannister and shucking off your shoes, aching feet a little less painful on the carpet of the stairs. Eddie waits for you on the landing, and he kisses you when you’re close enough, to your fear.

“I’m gonna fall.”

“No,” he says, encouraging you against him with a forearm to the small of your back. “Like I’d let you.”

“Is it really bad?”

“She went into a full blown nuclear meltdown. I don’t think Sasha will be back any time soon, she looked shell-shocked,” Eddie says.

His eyes flare wide and his lips pucker, but he looks less worried and more entertained. He knows Roan is gonna be fine eventually. She has a case of the crankies because nobody will let her have her way (but you would if you could).

“She definitely wants to see me?”

“I think you’re the only person she wants to see. She kept pushing me off of the bed.”

“Oh.” You kiss his cheek. He smiles like he did the very first time you kissed him, surprised and elated to be liked, which is a tad silly —you love him. “Hello. Dinner smells nice.”

“It does, doesn’t it? I’m gonna go make some garlic bread if you don’t need me.”

You hold his arm. It’s strange to be in love sometimes. You coparent his occasionally angry child. He makes you dinner every single night. There’s barely time to say hello, but you say it because saying hi to him is always, always fun.

Eddie gives you a quick hug. “I’m downstairs if you want me,” he promises.

You ease around one another. He goes down the stairs too quickly, you knock gently against ‘Princess Roan’s’ door. The placard is missing a few gems, but it’s still sparkly.

There’s no answer.

“Hello?” you ask, knocking the door again. “Baby, I’m coming in to see you.”

“…Okay.”

You smile at the sound of her voice. You’ve missed her, even though it hasn’t been that long. It’s better to see her, opening her door, finding her all curled up on her bed. She’s mostly guilty, you’d say, but still annoyed at the situation.

“Hey, angel,” you say, pausing against her doorway.

“Hi, mom.”

You grin. “Dad told me what happened.” She tenses, expecting a telling off, but Eddie has that covered. She can’t treat people the way she did, pushing poor Sasha and screaming at her to go away isn’t fair, but she had her reasons. Neither you nor Eddie plan to ignore them. “You okay?”

“Fine.”

“What can I do to make you feel better than fine?” you ask.

“Let me come to work with you.”

“I told you already, Ro. You can only come with me for emergencies. They’re very grumpy at work.”

She glares and curls tighter into her ball. She’s small, less than a third your size but with feelings that would threaten to tip you over. Her dress is creased to death and her face is covered in tears.

“Wanna get dressed for bed?” you ask.

Roan sighs tiredly. “No.”

“Just let me wash your face then, princess. Tears make your eyes sore after a while.”

“Can you hug me?” Roan asks shyly.

You cross the room. She slides across her bed to make more room for you than you need, but you love how big she seems to think you are, in a way. Like she sees you as much older, maybe more protective, or that’s what you’d like to think. You lay down in her bed, and you move your arm from your side to let her know the hug factor is ready for business.

She lays her head on your shoulder.

“It’s hard missing you,” you say.

It’s hard missing both of them. You feel like a lot of your life is totally wasted at work when you could be talking yourself hoarse with Eddie, Roan between you both or on someone’s lap. You’d rest your face on his arm and watch his lips make each word. You could do it forever, but the world doesn’t let you. His stories and jokes have to wait until the weekend.

“It is?” Roan asks quietly.

“It’s so hard. I miss you all the time.”

“I miss you too,” Roan says.

“I know.” Her bed is crazy comfortable. You stretch out and turn your face down to hers, back twinging, content to stay her with her forever. “Can I give you a little kiss?”

She laughs and turns her cheek to you for kissing.

“It’s been a long time since I asked you that, huh?” you say, pressing three light kisses in the same place.

“You aks me sometimes.”

“You never ask me!” you tease in a shouting-whisper. “You just plant them on me!”

“You like kisses.”

“I love ‘em. You and dad give the best kisses I ever had.”

She smiles, but it slowly turns into a frown. “I don’t like being home with Sasha.”

“It’s summertime, bug. Me and dad have to work, Wayne has to work. We can’t find any other way.”

“Sasha doesn’t… She’s not… Ugh.” Roan rubs her sad face into your chest.

“Sasha’s still a stranger, baby, that’s all it is. I know she seems a bit weird right now, but that’s, like, how meeting new people goes!” You hug her to you loosely. “You remember when you met me?”

“You liked me on the first day,” Roan says.

“Of course I did.”

“Sasha doesn’t like me.”

“Sasha thinks you’re awesome. But when I first met you, Ro, you were littler, and you liked to cuddle more. It was easier for me and you. Plus, I think things for me and you are much more special.”

“She doesn’t like me anymore.”

You coo sympathetically. “No way. I think if you say sorry, and maybe me and dad can explain, Sasha won’t mind.”

“I just wanted you,” she says.

“I know. It’s okay if we miss each other, because we always get to see each other before dinner.”

“Is dad still mad at me?”

You sit up to look down at her, stroking the dark baby curls away from her face, smiling as they spring back into place. “Nah. But maybe he deserves an apology like Sasha. He said you gave him a couple of pushes too.”

“He was trying to give me a hug and I was still mad,” she complains.

“That’s okay. I guess dad’s not the kind to hold a grudge anyways.”

Eddie absolutely holds grudges. He has one-sided beef with half the town and mutual beef with the other half, but he doesn’t hold one with Roan. You wipe the tear stains from her cheeks with a warm cloth and get her changed into clean pyjamas, holding her hand the whole time at her insistence, which makes doing her buttons up hard.

“Why can’t uncle Steve have me?” Roan asks as you carry her downstairs.

“Because he has a job, too.” You put her down at the bottom of the stairs. “Most grown ups do.”

“And you can’t have summer vacation?”

“I wish, baby. I wish.”

Roan walks ahead of you into the kitchen, where Eddie’s setting the table, pasta and garlic bread and a big tossed salad waiting. Roan’s place has been set especially for her, with her glass of water, her glass of juice, her favourite fork, and the big purple cushion on her seat.

“Feeling better?” Eddie asks her, bending at the waist when she holds up her arms.

He gives her a soft hug, patting her back between lazy up and downs.

“Sorry, daddy.”

“That’s okay,” he says genuinely, “I know summer is hard. Maybe I can get some more days off soon.”

That sounds like a good idea.

“Please,” Roan says.

Eddie coils one of her curls around his finger. “I’ll see what I can do. And you’re going to be nicer to Sasha?”

“Yes. Sorry.”

Eddie tips her head back to kiss her nose. “I don’t want you to be sorry, I just want you to be kind.”

“‘Cos kind is the new cool,” Roan says.

“Yes!” He drags her up his chest to squeeze her tightly. “And we’re the coolest cats in town.”

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fuckyeahgoodomens · 2 days

Text

Good Omens graphic novel update: May 2024

Happy 34th birthday to Good Omens - published in May 1990. We don't need any extra reasons to celebrate Aziraphale and Crowley, but we're always happy to find some.

Admin

Thank you to everyone who has completed the PledgeManager so far; as mentioned, this will be open through 2024 into early 2025 to complete. A few key queries that have arisen in the past month:

I ordered via Kickstarter, but when I go onto PledgeManager, it is setting me to Human Tier and/or asking me to pay again. Please check the email that you are using on PledgeManager. The email to access PledgeManager must be the same as the one you used on Kickstarter for the system to connect your account to the order; if your email is not showing a prior order, please try your other emails, or drop us a message from the account you pledged on (and are, presumably, reading this from!) and we can confirm the email address linked to your pledge.

I have been charged twice for shipping. What do I do? We have raised this with PledgeManager, and they say it is a known issue that can occur via Stripe, but it is easily fixed. Please contact [email protected] with information on your order, and note that your shipping has been charged twice, and their system can verify this and process the refund swiftly and easily.

I need to change my address. How do I do that? We have left the option to update your shipping address open on PledgeManager and will do so for as long as possible. Per PledgeManager, here is a step-by-step on how to change your address: Return to your survey (which you can also do by visiting my.pledgemanager.com and using the ‘Forgotten Password’ option if needed) and scroll down on the receipt page. There, you will see the below button. After clicking that, you will be taken to the first page of the survey and will just need to click through to the shipping page. On the shipping page, you can use the ‘Create New Address’ button to enter their updated address.

If you have any further issues or queries, visit the central FAQ page as your first port of call.

Good Omens items...

The desk at Good Omens HQ is slowly filling up with prototypes, the latest of which appears to be as popular as Aziraphale and Crowley, and for good reason. We are, of course, talking about the ducks. Here's an early version of the duck mug:

We've got some early prototype designs of the trading cards too. Illustrator Steve Gregson has begun work on the base card deck illustrations, to be unveiled in future, and designs for some of the variants are fully underway. Here are some early samples of graphic novel variant cards from Colleen Doran, and Rachael Stott's Crowley:

The base packs (Hellhound+) currently include 80 cards, and have caused quite heated games with those who have test-played it so far on their attempts to thwart (or indeed cause) the apocalypse. Hellhound+ backers will also get a booster pack alongside the main game. Rarities for sharing at random in these orders are shaping up nicely too. Hoping to share some of the base pack design imminently.

If you've been wondering what your other alternative cover choice is, alongside Rachael Stott's (Serpent+), then wonder no more: here is Frank Quitely's take on Aziraphale and Crowley, ready to shine on your shelves.

Update from Colleen

We often end with an update from Colleen, whether that's her art, or her shots from her studio. However, we thought it was about time we invite Colleen to update you herself, so we are handing the rest of this month's over to your ineffable artist for a glimpse inside the process of making Good Omens. Enjoy.

---

As you may imagine, I’m having a wonderful time working on the Good Omens graphic novel. The Dunmanifestin team asked me to pop in and give you a look at my process.

The task of adapting a beloved novel into graphic novel format is a complex, wonderful sort of pressure cooker. Even without the well-publicized complications I got smacked with over the last year, it promised to be an intense, time-consuming project.

The graphic novel is about the book and not the show. Getting Michael Sheen and David Tennant out of my head was quite a task. I’ve seen it dozens of times and I adore it, but I to had devote a lot of time to re-reading the novel and listening to the audiobook to clear my head of them.

The few times I allowed myself to watch the show again screwed me up a bit. So, I won’t watch it again until I am completely finished with every drawing. Maybe a view-a-thon will be my reward for finishing the book.

But I’m getting ahead of myself. There’s still a lot to do, so let me show you it.

Before we knew the Kickstarter fundraiser would do well, the graphic novel was to clock in at 164 pages. After the good news of the Kickstarter success, I got permission to take the story to 200 pages. That meant a major rewrite and redraw on some dozens of thumbnails and layouts.

And you guys are getting a much longer book.

Not complaining one bit. I was so happy to get more space to give breathing room to the ending.

Anyway, here's a look at my workspace.

To the left is my laptop computer with the script. The laptop is connected to my graphics computer via ethernet, and all my reference is on the main system, from which I share files.

On my older projects, I dutifully printed out every bit of reference. I think this is the first project where I’ve done all reference and organizing on my MAC.

As you can see, I draw comics the old-fashioned way – by hand – and there is my script on the computer.

But I do all the coloring on this project on the MAC. I know some people hate Photoshop, but even if I wanted to switch, I don’t have the time to dive into a new system.

That entire box with all the narrow drawers in it you see there contain Good Omens pages in varying degrees of completion. Finished pages are at the bottom with layouts, pencils, and partial inks toward the top. The middle drawer contains templates, French curves, and a ruler.

The box isn’t fancy art studio equipment. It’s just a Childcraft brand puzzle storage rack. I realized a long time ago the heavy wooden bookcases, puzzle racks, and construction paper storage made for children’s classrooms made great modular storage for professional art spaces. It’s solid as a rock, heavy so little children can’t tip it, and I can move it and rearrange my space however I like.

The final art is drawn on 11”X14” Strathmore 500 acid free Bristol.

I do all my prelims as tiny “thumbnail” sketches, some in ink, some in very loose pencil. I keep them organized in this Levenger notebook. The thumbnail paper is both Canson brand, and Blue Line Pro, and both are acid free. Blue Line Pro is good for ink, but Canson is better for pencil because it has more tooth. I usually use Canson.

Using the Levenger hole puncher, I perforate my pages and keep them organized in a Levenger Circa system. It’s pricey, but I love it. There are other brands far less expensive, however.

The ruler shows how tiny the thumbnails are.

If the storytelling is clear at this small size, then it will be clear in the final.

I redo quite a bit as I go along, as you can see from the sequence below.

From thumbnail:

To pencils:

Since I did multiple rewrites, adding a large section at the end and popping in earlier scenes I originally had to skip, this meant redoing almost all the page numbers about 4 times.

Nearly went barmy.

I use the construction method of drawing, as you see. This is an old-school technique. Some people seem to assume that artists always use computers and tracing for their drawings, but most cartoonists of my generation work extemporaneously. There’s quite a bit of noodling around and searching in the sketches. Using too much reference often results in stiff, dead work.

In comics, it’s very important to make sure you’ve considered word balloon placement when designing a page. The script for Good Omens is more copy-heavy than most modern comic book scripts because I want to preserve as much of the clever original language as I can.

Here I scramble about working out the word balloon space allowance.

Here’s a deeper look at the process for page 2 from thumbnails to final color.

Now here is where things get a little weird. What you’re about to see is a process called flatting.

If you color a comic without first flatting the art, you are consigning yourself to many extra hours of labor and frustration.

Flatting is a way to tell the computer to select areas inside the black lines so that whenever you click on that particular color, you can paint inside that area perfectly. Since the computer only understands 1 and 2 - or on and off - when you tell that computer to stick to that area, that is what it will do.

There are computer programs that you can use to create your flats. I use Multi-Fill. The results are uniquely ugly, but they get the job done. Here is what that looks like.

Absolutely hideous.

But pretty much all I have to do from this point on is click each block of color and change it to whatever I like. The result is this:

I also experimented with selecting areas of the line work as color holds, but I’m getting into more complicated color technique than we may have time for at this point. But from here, I can start painting.

And the painting stage looks like this.

Since I wasn’t entirely sure exactly how I wanted to approach this color style, I took screen shots of some of the changes I made as I went along. In the shot at the left, I’ve given Aziraphale’s heavenly self a golden glow by using a color hold on the line. But I found it needed more contrast to make his figure pop, so I darkened it in the next shot.

I use the computer to create the initial flats, but I either do the final flats myself, or I have help from Julmae Kristoff and/or Dee Cunniffe.

The flats are (usually) not intended to be part of the final work. They are a technical tool.

For example, here are the original, computer-generated flats for one scene in Good Omens.

And here are the secondary flats by Julmae Kristoff.

And here is my final color work.

Since I’m running behind on the book, I’ve brought in Dee Cunniffe to do some extra color work. He is a wonderful colorist, as well as an excellent flatter. I’m not sure to what extent I’ll be handing pages to Dee at this point, because I’m very controlling, and I want to make absolutely certain there are no stylistic anomalies in the art, and I want all the Crowley and Aziraphale pages for myself, is that too much to ask?

I use Faber Castell Pitt Artist pens for my inking. I sometimes use an old-fashioned crowquill as well, but Faber Castells are easier to control, and the ink uses real pigment instead of dye like many markers. All of my originals are created with longevity in mind: acid-free and lightfast. I want the drawings to be fade-proof.

And that is a quick tour of the work so far.

A thousand thanks to Neil Gaiman and the Dunmanifestin team for their incredible kindness and patience, and that goes double for all Good Omens supporters out there. Your indulgence is appreciated more than I can adequately express. I am truly sorry to have been the cause of the delay in the book, but I can only make it up to you by doing my very best.

And that is what I am doing.

BTW, many years ago, I found a little yellow duckling who was getting beaten up by the other ducks, so I saved him and took him to my home to live until my parents adopted him, since they had a nice yard and a pond, and I didn’t.

He had a birth defect and could not fly, which is probably why the other ducks were pecking at him.

He got to stay in the family house, and eat goldfish crackers, and swim in the tub. Eventually they built him his own house. We called it the Duck Majal.

He lived for ten years.

I named him Fred because I’d been watching Breakfast at Tiffany’s when I heard him quacking for help that day we met, and Holly Golightly’s brother was named Fred.

So, here’s to you Fred.

Until next time.

#good omens #graphic novel #good omens graphic novel #graphic novel kickstarter #colleen doran #fred

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coff33andb00ks · 3 days

Text

Rule Breaker - Pt 1

max verstappen x single mom!reader

{next}

face claim: none, random pinterest find warnings: cursing, max is broody, jos is an asshole, fluff, barely proofread, idk red bull team aside from Max, Checo, and Horner... (y/n's bestie is named after my irl bestie bc she told me to write this, and y/n's son is not named after Magnussen i swear) Summary: Max has it all...right? Besides, he's too busy collecting trophies and completing side quests for anything else. Until... You moved across a whole ass ocean to start over, uprooting you and your son's lives to become social media admin for cars that drive in circles. word count: 4293 auth.note: hiii new to writing for f1 so I'm posting this in the middle of the night and hiding in bed - feedback greatly appreciated. also this is forbidden love/he falls first/friends to enemies to lovers

"Hey Max, come meet the new social media admin."

On his way out, he barely heard the words. But they registered and he immediately turned, knowing how important it was to have a good rapport with the social media personnel. He only had to meet them, then he could leave and go to the team apartment and… He didn't know. Pass time in his sim until he couldn't hold his eyes open. Maybe he'd go for a run until he was close to exhaustion. Or see if Lando was in the country and they could go out together. It was only when he was about to pass out that he was able to sleep and not be plagued with dreams.

His eyes swept the small office, swiveling to focus on the new face. She smiled, giving him a little wave as she set down her slice of pizza.

"Max, this is y/n. Y/n, this is Max."

"Hello," he said, watching as she wiped her mouth with a napkin.

"Hi, sorry." She took a sip of her drink and wiped her mouth again. "Sorry – It's so great to meet you."

She was American. Walking over, he extended his hand. "Where are you from?"

Shaking his hand, she smiled up at him. "Well most recently I was with—"

"No, no, where in America," he corrected.

"Oh! North Carolina. I try to keep the country accent to a minimum but sometimes I slip up." She motioned to the pizza box on the desk. "You want a slice?"

No, he had to leave. His work was done, he didn't need to hang around and kill his precious down time. Besides, his diet was strict for the next few days, what with the race coming up. He had to focus on… Within fifteen seconds he was sitting across from her, holding a slice in one hand. One slice wouldn't hurt, he decided as he took a bite. "How long have you been in England?"

"About three weeks?" She glanced at her watch and nodded. "Three weeks tomorrow. I was staying at an Airbnb until a week ago when I moved into my apartment."

He nodded. "Are you going to be based here or go to the races?"

"Races. Gonna be living the glamorous life of travel and hotels and surviving on caffeine and sugar," she said with a roll of her eyes.

"It's not so bad."

"I'm sure I'll get used to it. You've been doing it for, what, half your life now?"

Shrugging, he took a sip of his water. "More than that, really. Are you saying you don't travel?"

"Not like this. I lucked out with my last job because I was able to do it mostly from home. I think I went up to New York or out to Cali maybe six times total? But I know I can do it," she added when his eyebrows lifted. "It'll just take a little getting used to, especially with a little one in tow a lot of the time."

That surprised him. His eyes immediately moved to her hands, which were completely bare of rings. "A little one?"

Y/n nodded, her eyes lighting. "He's three."

"What's his name?" Max asked. It was none of his business about the boy's father, anyway, so he wasn't going to ask about him. And he didn't even care.

"Kevin." Her smile was both shy and sparkling.

His chest tightened. Kevin, he knew, was one of the most loved children in the world. "What's he like?" The words came out and only after saying them he realized he wanted to know.

"He's… He's Kevin." She laughed. "He asks a million questions and will talk to anyone about anything. He's high energy but has laser focus when it's something that interests him – Like the other day I took him to the park. I expected him to be running around and trying out all the swings and stuff, but he spent an hour crawling in the grass following a caterpillar."

"Laser focus can be good at times," Max told her, earning a warm smile.

"I know. He comes by it honest because I do the same thing when I'm working."

"Will you be bringing him to the races?" Finished with his pizza, he shook his head when she nudged the box towards him and sat back to finish his water.

"Yeah. Not all of them, but to the next few. I already talked to Mr. Horner and Wanda about it," she said quickly, as though expecting him to be upset about her bringing her child to work. "He won't be in the way. My best friend – Ellie, she's his godmother – is traveling with me to Imola and Monaco to watch him for me. But her new job starts the first of June so I have to make arrangements before then."

"Does he like racing?"

"He's three," she deadpanned. "He loves anything with cars or trucks."

"You'll have to bring him to the track—"

"He also loves fart jokes and bugs."

Max blinked at her, snorting on a laugh when she grinned at him. "Fair enough."

"I do have to warn you, though," she said carefully, standing to gather the napkins and throw them into the trash. Closing the pizza box, she used a clean napkin to wipe off the desk. "He likes McLaren."

"It's the orange livery isn't it?" Max sighed. When she nodded, he shrugged. "I'll do my best to not hate him."

She giggled, letting out a snort.

And, for the first time in six months, Max felt lighter.

*-*

"There's my lil doodle bug," Viv cooed as Kevin leapt off the couch and ran towards her. Dropping her purse and work bag, she scooped him into a hug. "Hi sweetheart. How was your day, hm?"

Her son grinned, squeezing her tight. "I fell in poop!"

Viv froze for two seconds and leaned back a little. "What kind of poop?"

"Dog. Yes, it was fresh. Yes, he had a bath. Yes, I washed his clothes," Ellie announced as she came out of the kitchen, wiping her hands on a dish towel. "Your dinner's almost done – How was work?"

Viv kissed her son's cheek and set him down so she could pick up her bags. "I spent the day reading protocols and policies and signing contracts. Oh, and getting my uniform."

Ellie took the knapsack stuffed with team shirts and jackets. "Good thing you love blue huh?"

"No kidding." She glanced over to Kevin, who had climbed back onto the couch and resumed lining his hot wheels along the back. "How was he today?"

"He was fine. You worry too much, mama," Ellie said gently, following y/n to her bedroom. Setting the knapsack down, she took the work bag and reached inside to switch off y/n's work phone. "Ah, ah, you're off now. You don't officially start work until Monday, so they can't expect you to be on call."

"Yes ma'am." Y/n held her hands up in surrender. "I'm gonna change and get him tucked in then I'll eat, promise."

"Perfect. Bridgerton tonight?" Ellie asked on her way out the door.

"You know it!" y/n called after her.

Once she'd changed into sweats and an old t-shirt she went to the living room. "C'mon, doodle bug," she said softly, smiling when Kevin slid off the couch without hesitation. She helped him pack his cars into their cubby, telling him about her boring day at work while she led him to the bathroom so he could brush his teeth. Then to her bedroom, wishing she had been able to afford a larger apartment so he could have his own space. But he didn't seem to mind, and more often than not he ended up crawling into her bed during the night. Something she treasured, because she knew that all too soon he would be "too big" to share a bed with his mama.

Three storybooks and a rambling made up tale about a one-eyed dragon and the princess that saved him from the evil knight later, she pressed a kiss to his cheek and turned off the light. "Good night, sweetheart. Sweet dreams," she whispered before she left the room.

"So I met Max Verstappen today," she told Ellie a few minutes later while fixing her drink.

"Ooo Mr Tu Tu Du Du himself?"

Y/n snorted. "Yeah, that one." The chicken alfredo with a side of broccoli looked so much more appetizing than the greasy pizza she'd had for a late lunch, and she almost felt like she'd cheated on her best friend for ordering takeout.

"What's he like?" Ellie asked, scooping a little more sauce over the noodles.

"He's nice."

"Just nice?"

"I mean, he asked me surface level questions and laughed at my lame jokes? Yeah, nice." Y/n pulled her plate away before Ellie could push more food onto it and sat down to eat. "Everyone's been so nice, Ellie…"

Her friend squeezed her shoulder. "I'm so glad. I have good news, too."

Y/n lifted her eyebrows, unable to speak because her mouth was full.

Ellie sat down, smiling brightly. "I spoke to HR today and Kev will be able to use the daycare."

Gulping down her mouthful of food, y/n gasped. "Oh that's great!" she cried, feeling the weight of worry that had been plaguing her for three weeks lift. "They're sure?"

"Yep, you just have to come in with me before the first and sign a document giving me permission to take him from the premises."

"Excellent, we can go in the morning? I have to go in after lunch to get my kit. Camera, laptop, all that. And Wanda told me to get more shirts so I don't have to worry about laundry while on the road – Oh and I'll be getting our passes."

"Kevin is so excited about Italy. He wants to see the leaning tower of pizza."

"Bless his heart, maybe I can take him one day."

Plans made, she finished her late dinner and did the washing up then changed into her pajamas before settling on the couch to watch Bridgerton. They were rewatching the series so she didn't feel guilty about scrolling her social media, finally biting the bullet and following all of the RedBull people she knew from headquarters.

"You are the bane of my existence… and the object of all my desires."

"Ugh," Y/N and Ellie whined in unison.

"So much nicer than you've had me hard since we met," y/n muttered.

"Let's be real, practically anything is better than that," Ellie agreed.

They finished the episode and y/n headed to bed, keeping as quietly as possible even though she knew her son could sleep through anything. Digging her work phone from her bag, she powered it on to check for any missed messages, smiling slightly when she saw Max had added her on WhatsApp. Adding him back, she was about to turn the phone off again when a new message popped up.

👋🏻

Rolling her eyes, she replied with the same emoji and waited a few seconds before plugging the phone in and turning on do not disturb. She wasn't going to have a late night chat with Max Verstappen of all people. He was probably just being nice, she told herself as she brushed her teeth and did her skincare. Wanda had told her that Max added everyone but rarely messaged anyone aside from Mr. Horner or the engineers.

Besides, she wasn't there to make friends, she reminded herself as she climbed into bed. She could be friendly, but she was there to do a job.

And no flirting with him either, she thought, immediately wondering why the idea had popped into her mind. She would never – okay, she might, if unintentionally. She knew it was a protective thing, knew it was because she had the undesirable need to have everyone like her. But she couldn't do it. Not with him, especially. He'd probably laugh in her face. He was younger than her and probably had a never ending line of gorgeous women waiting to please him.

Before she switched off the lamp she glanced over at her sleeping son. A living, breathing, very real reminder of what she'd gone through just four years ago. And she knew she couldn't go through that again. She wasn't strong enough. She refused to endure that torture and heartache. Kevin needed her, so she had to be strong for him.

Not to mention there was a no hanky-panky clause in her contract?

She had barely closed her eyes when she heard his toddler bed creak. Lying there, she listened to his feet whispering against the rug, smiling in the dark when he slowly slid the covers back.

"Mama," he whispered, and she reached for him. He snuggled close, tucking his head under her chin as she pulled the covers over them.

"Love you, sweetheart," she murmured, pressing a kiss into his hair.

"Love you, Mama."

*-*

"I think it's good, yeah," Max said, eyes scanning the screens of data from the upgrades. "It'll be great for turn seven." Nodding, he listened to the engineers as they went over potential upgrades for Monaco. Once the meeting was finished he grabbed his water bottle and left the room, ignoring the almost immediate phone call from his father. He knew it was his dad without checking, and strode down the hall, intent on leaving and heading straight for the airport to go home. Where he could ignore everything and everyone until Sunday when it was time to fly to Italy.

Rounding the corner, he lurched to a stop as a small child darted in front of him, his giggles echoing down the corridor. The little boy stopped and looked up at Max, blinking slowly.

"Hi!" He waved.

"Hello." Max heard rapid footsteps and glanced up to see y/n iquickly approaching.

"Kevin Scott—"

"I've got him," Max told her with a quick wave, squatting down to the boy's level. "So you're Kevin?"

The boy nodded, light blonde curls bouncing on his head. "I'm Kevin. That's Mama."

"I'm Max. I heard a lot about you."

Kevin's eyes widened. "You know Mama?"

"About this much." Max held his thumb and index finger barely a centimeter apart. He quickly looked to y/n, who was walking up behind Kevin. "I work with her."

"Ohh… She's gonna take me to see cars. D'you like cars Mister Max?" he asked seriously. As though cars were the most important thing in the universe.

"More than I like myself some days," Max quipped, reaching to check the miniature car the boy was holding in his hand. "I drive one like this."

Kevin gasped. "Do you got it here?"

Max chuckled. "We have a lot. Do you want to see them?"

"Please," the boy said, and Max couldn't have said no under any circumstances.

"You have to ask your mum," he said gently. "And maybe say sorry for running away from her?"

Kevin immediately turned to his mother. "Mama I sorry. Can Mister Max take me to cars?"

She sighed, squatting down to fix his shorts. "We've gotta be more careful, sweetheart. And yes, Mister Max can take us to see the cars."

Kevin spun to face Max again. "She said yes!"

Grinning, Max nodded and stood.

"Thank you," y/n said softly. "I'm sor—"

"He's three, yeah?" Max reached to place his hand on the boy's head, gently guiding him closer when he started to wander off. "Don't apologize for him being a child."

She tipped her head at that, then nodded, grabbing hold of Kevin's hand as Max turned to lead them back down the hallway he'd just left. "I only came by to get my kit, and his aunt had paperwork at her new workplace to finish up, so I had to bring him."

"I'm glad you did." Max gave her a gentle smile, using his card to open the door leading to the back of headquarters. "Have you been back here?"

"Only on my tour the other day."

"Just stick with me," he said. They wouldn't be entering the engineer or design areas, only taking the corridor to the garage. Otherwise they'd have to travel all the way to the main entrance and walk around to the back, which would be tedious for her son.

"I'm under contract and signed an NDA, and it's not like I'd know where to go to sell team secrets," she told him. "And I wouldn't even know what I overheard."

"Not a car fan?" he asked, accepting the model car Kevin was shoving at him. Slipping it into his pocket, he guided them along the curving corridor.

"Eh… Kinda? I like racing. I don't understand all the mechanics to it, I just like the adrenaline of watching twenty guys drive really fast. And I can admire good craftsmanship, like a Bugatti or a McLaren, ya know?"

"What do you drive?" Max asked, using his card to open the door to the garage. Met with the faint aroma of rubber and asphalt, he inhaled deeply, catching with it a lighter, more pleasant scent.

"Nothing at the moment. I've been taking an Uber to and from the apartment," she explained. "I'll probably get a used car after my first paycheck."

Max furrowed his brows, stopping on the catwalk. "You haven't gotten paid yet?"

"No? Well, only my signing bonus, and that's gone to household necessities like rent and food. It's fine, Max, I don't need a car right now."

What are you going to do, give her one of yours? he thought, reaching to Kevin and lifting the boy to his hip so he could carry him down the stairs to the main level. Kevin was already oohing and aahing over the neat rows of cars. "It's just me, Brandon," he called, seeing the member of the security team at the other end of the garage. "A quick tour for a new friend, yeah?"

Brandon waved and disappeared around the corner.

At the bottom of the stairs, Max set Kevin down, ushering him to the nearest car. The boy's excitement was contagious, and Max gleefully told him about each one that he'd driven, helping the boy climb into each and press buttons on the steering wheel. Laughing when Kevin made racecar noises, he pulled out his phone to pull up some videos for sound effects. Swiping away the notifications from his dad, he turned up the volume so the engine sounds echoed in the garage, enjoying Kevin's childish glee.

"This one you know," he said, guiding him to the most recent addition. Lifting him into the seat, he squatted down. "This is a car I drove last year, which—" He pulled the model car from his pocket and set it on top of the steering column. "—is just like the one you have."

"Wow." Kevin looked at him with pure awe. "Did you win?"

"I did. And I won the championship too."

"You're a champ-een, Mister Max?" the boy gasped.

"I am."

"Like Lightning McQueen?"

"You could say that," he chuckled, affectionately ruffling the boy's curls. Glancing over at y/n, he paused when he saw she was holding up her phone.

She peered at him over the top. "Is it okay to take pictures?"

"Of course." He had a feeling she'd already taken dozens. He stepped out of the way so she could get photos of Kevin in the car, then lifted him out once she tucked her phone away. "Have you seen the trophies?"

"No. Can we see 'em, Mister Max? Please?"

"You have to ask your mum." Turning, he sent y/n a pleading look as Kevin asked permission.

"As long as Mister Max doesn't mind," she said, rolling her eyes when Kevin squealed yay.

"It's a long walk, do you want me to carry you?"

Kevin squirmed, wriggling so he was piggybacking. "Thank you Mister Max."

His chest tightened, and he reached to adjust the boy's legs around his middle. "You're welcome, Kevin. We do have to make a stop on the way to the trophy case, though."

Next to him, y/n cleared her throat. "I can take him if you've got something to do."

"No, it's fine, a quick stop," Max assured her, motioning for her to go up the stairs first.

"A pit stop?" Kevin asked, giggling as Max jogged up the steps.

"Exactly that. No more than ten seconds," he promised.

Fifteen minutes later, he was squatting down to fix the collar of Kevin's new shirt. "There you go, mate. What do you think?"

Kevin grinned and gave him a thumb's up.

Max looked up at y/n, who rolled her eyes. "He has to be Team Red Bull," he explained with a shrug, adjusting Kevin's new cap with a grin. Thanking the merch manager, he handed over the bag of goodies he'd grabbed and motioned for Kevin to climb onto his back.

"Thank you!" Kevin called, waving enthusiastically as he was carried out.

"Thank you, Max," y/n murmured while they walked towards reception. "But please don't get him anything else."

"I won't," he said softly. "If I overstepped—"

"No, no, it's fine. He'll wear the shirts until they're too small and he'll play with the models until they fall apart. I just don't want him to think he'll get this type of treatment all the time."

"I understand." He nodded. She didn't want her son to be spoiled. Which he found admirable. "…So giving him one of my old cars is out of the question?"

She halted, jaw dropping. "Max!"

"A joke!" he promised, flashing her a grin as he jogged ahead.

"Not funny," she scoffed behind him, and he heard her huff as she ran to catch up. "Those things cost probably a million—"

Max swung around, easily catching Kevin and swinging him back onto his back. "The car for Miami was about sixteen million."

Her eyes widened. "Sixteen—" She pressed her hands together right in front of her mouth. "Million? As in sixteen then six zeroes behind it?"

Nodding, he started walking backwards, amused at her reaction. She was staring at him in shock, and her son was giggling. "It's hard to pinpoint an exact cost, because we reuse some components from race to race. A chassis, or wings, yeah? If you really wanted to know I can pull up the data and get the price for each part—"

"No," she said, shaking her head slowly. "Please don't. I'd probably faint."

"It's an expensive sport, y/n," he reminded her.

"Yeah no shit," she muttered, exhaling harshly. "I've got so much to learn."

"You'll be fine." He'd meant it to come out in an offhand manner. A generic it's okay so feelings wouldn't be hurt. But it came out gently, laced with reassurance and promise. And, before he could stop himself, his mouth opened again. "If you have any questions you can ask me."

"I can Google," she told him.

"I can change my Wikipedia to say I'm eighty-six. Doesn't make it true," he quipped.

To his relief, she laughed. "Fair point. I'll be sure and ask you."

He turned his attention back to Kevin, swinging him from his back to his hip. Reception was empty, and he set the boy down so he could explore the various displays. "He can't hurt anything," he reassured her, knowing she was watching carefully as Kevin ran over to a wing displayed on the wall.

"I just worry," she sighed.

"Why do you sound like you're apologizing?" Folding his arms over his chest, he watched Kevin walk around the large room, drinking it all in. "You're his mother, you're supposed to worry. If you didn't you would have to apologize."

"Thank you."

"He's a good kid, y/n," he said softly.

"I think so too." He could hear the smile in her voice and turned slightly to see it on her face.

Every other time he'd been in this room the weather outside had been cloudy or rainy. He couldn't remember the sun ever shining as he'd stood there to soak in all the history. Until now. It poured through the windows, causing the trophies in the cases to sparkle and the polished floor to gleam. It shone into her eyes, and he could only stare at her as she squinted a little, a tiny dimple appearing in her left cheek.

God, she was lovely.

She glanced at him and his breathing kickstarted. Unconsciously licking his lips, he cleared his throat. "You seem to be doing well, for a single mom."

Her smile faltered and he mentally kicked himself. She looked to Kevin, who was studying the Red Bull logo on the wall, and looked at Max again. "I didn't have a choice."

"I'm sorry," he said automatically.

"Oh he's not dead." She watched her son, her smile gone. "Just dead to us."

"Then I'm sorry for bringing it up." It had ruined the day. Well, alright, not the day but the moment. They'd been having fun, he'd been having fun.

You always fuck up don't you?

His jaw clenched as the angry voice from years ago echoed in his mind.

"It's okay, Max." Her gentle voice cut through the echoes of the past and he forced his jaw to relax.

Nodding, he uncrossed his arms and called to Kevin, taking him by the hand and leading him to the towering trophy case. "Come on, y/n, time to learn some history."

She snorted on a laugh but joined them, and he could tell she was paying attention as he rattled off years and races and drivers to Kevin.

You're going to fuck this up too, the voice sneered.

#f1 #f1 fic #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #max verstappen #max verstappen fic #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen fanfic #my writings > mv > rulebreaker

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lnfours · 2 days

Text

* ✰. — birds of a feather | l.n

summary: i’ll love you til the day that i die.

warnings: the result of the new billie eilish album being on repeat and me having this song stuck in my head, so this was born. fluff, fluff and more fluff bc i said so. slowly getting my creative juices back, so bear with me.

masterlist | soundtrack

you hadn’t been looking for anything when you had met lando. a freshly graduated student who finally had time to find interest in their personal life, rather then spend their time consumed with textbooks in front of them, trying to navigate your way through the chaotic mess of life.

but the moment the curly haired brit bumped into you in the paddock, sending your notes and fresh cup of coffee all over you and the ground, you were doomed. falling head first into the comforting chaos that was lando norris.

and you thanked your stars every morning when you woke up that you had been running late that day, or else you would’ve never met the sleeping boy next to you. wouldn’t have ever gotten the chance to get to know the sought after driver with a big heart and who loves with his whole soul.

you smiled to yourself, sitting in the bed and taking in the way he slept peacefully, not aware how pretty he looked in the morning sun as it peaked in through your blinds. his cheek pressed against the pillow, his lips slightly parted as he slept.

you couldn’t help but reach out and brush the stray curl away from his face, smiling softly as he stirred in his sleep at your touch. your silent way to keep going, your nails scratching at his scalp gently. a soft hum came from him, followed by the gorgeous sight of his green eyes shining up at you. his eyes fully adjusting to the brightness as he squinted, his hand reaching out to yours.

“c’mere,”

his voice was hoarse and sleep coated, but it never failed to send shivers down your spine. you scooted closer, letting him pull you into his side. your face nuzzled in his bare shoulder, his head laying on top of yours.

“we need to be up soon,” you said, poking his ribs gently, “your family’s coming to see the new house and have dinner, remember?”

he didn’t, actually. and if it wasn’t for you, he’d be certain he’d miss all of his meetings, call times, and hell, even sometimes the start of his races. thankfully, you were never far from him on the pitlane. the perks of working with sky, who he should really thank. he’d make a mental note to do it next race. right now, he was going to enjoy the peaceful month he got to spend with you. uninterrupted peace, free time. where you got to whatever you wanted, wherever you wanted.

he groaned, nuzzling his face into your hair. you laughed softly, “lando,”

“i like when you say my name,” he mumbled, “say it again.”

you chuckled, and in your best flirty tone you could muster up in the moment, you did, “lando,”

he pressed a soft kiss to the skin of your neck, right where your neck and collarbone met. his favorite spot to kiss whenever he teased you because he knew you were ticklish.

and as if on queue, you giggled, shoving his head from your neck, “stop it,”

“just five more minutes,” he pleaded, “with my girl, in our bed, that’s all i ask.”

you sighed, “fine, but not one second longer.”

he smiled, knowing he could always get you to fold. you hated to admit it, but you’d always cave for him. do whatever he wanted. he had you wrapped around his finger and you had him wrapped around yours. smitten for each other, young in love, whatever you wanted to call it, you were it.

“how’d you sleep?” you asked, finger tips tracing the lines in your mind that you drew with your fingers every morning. connecting the moles on his skin, from his shoulders to his chest and down to his sides. your own little routine you had incorporated, a habit you picked up after the first night you spent together a year and a half ago.

“good until you woke me up.”

“you love when i wake you up.”

“you’re right,” he mumbled, “getting to see that pretty face every morning is the highlight of my day.”

you chuckled, leaning up on your elbow, reaching around and grabbing his cheek into your hand. he smiled softly as you leaned down, pressing your lips to his.

he pulled away, a smile on his lips as they brushed against yours, “and your morning kisses, i love waking up to your lips on mine, or on my-“

you shook your head, laughing and covering his face with your pillow before pulling yourself out from the covers, “alright, time to get up!”

“that wasn’t five minutes!” he gasped, tossing your pillow your way softly, teasingly. you laughed, walking into the connected bathroom, calling back to him.

“long enough! you killed the romantic mood,”

“i’m only speaking my truth, baby,” he said, footsteps joining you in the bathroom, watching him lean against the doorway out of the corner of your eye, “is a man not allowed to speak his truth?”

you popped the toothbrush in your mouth, sending him a glare. he laughed, pressing a kiss to your head before grabbing his own toothbrush from his side of the sink. he joined you in brushing your teeth, wrapping an arm around your waist. you smiled softly, trying to ignore how good he looked. sweatpants loosely hanging around his waist, bare chest on full display, curls wild and in serious need of taming.

you two looked good together, and even though he wasn’t necessarily considered ‘tall’ he still stood a few inches above you. his green eyes met yours in the mirror, and he knew you were subtly checking him out. he sent you a wink and you rolled your eyes, laughing softly as you finished brushing your teeth.

he finished shortly after you, watching you as you rummaged around in your drawer. you pulled out the skincare he had seen you put on every morning and night, and even has put on for you after nights where you’ve had one too many vodka redbulls.

he leaned against the counter, watching you in the mirror as you rubbed the product into your skin, “can i have some?”

you giggled, moving to stand between his legs. you squeezed a little bit of the moisturizer onto your fingers, rubbing into his face. he grinned softly at your gentle touch, “that smells good.”

you nodded, “and it has sunscreen in it, it’s good for you.”

he motioned towards your drawer, “do you have any lip balm?”

you hummed, putting the tube back before grabbing the lip balm. you went to hand it to him but he raised an eyebrow at you. you sighed with a laugh, shaking your head.

“gimme,” you said, grabbing his chin and swiping the lip balm against his pursed lips. you couldn’t help but giggle again, leaning down and pressing a kiss to his lips when you were done, “there.”

he rubbed his lips together and hummed, “hmm, is that coconut?”

you nodded, “like it?”

he nodded, pulling you in closer by your waist, “love it.”

you grabbed his wrist, checking the time on his watch, “they’ll be here in an hour.”

“so what i’m hearing is-“

“no,” you shoved his shoulder with another laugh, “what im saying is that i need to run to the store and get flowers for the vase on the table.”

“who needs flowers,” he said, pressing a kiss to your chest, “when i could have you back in my bed, all to myself for a little while longer until i have to share you for the rest of the day.”

you ran a hand through his hair, his eyes looking up to meet yours, “as tempting as it sounds, i really do have to run to the store. plus, i have to get some stuff for dinner.”

he sighed dramatically, “okay,”

you walked into the closet, rummaging through his side and stealing one of his hoodies and fishing out a pair of sweatpants. a quick outfit to run a few last minute errands.

he had found his way to the kitchen, standing at the coffee pot. you pinched his side, kissing his shoulder. he turned his head and smiled, leaning down and kissing your head, “need anything while i’m out?”

“mm,” he hummed, “breakfast? i don’t feel like cooking.”

you laughed, “me either. i’ll pick up something.”

he nodded, smiling playfully, “i guess you can take my car.”

“oh i was going to,” you said, grabbing his key off the hook, “even without your permission.”

“rude!”

you laughed, blowing him a kiss, “i’ll be back. i love you.”

“i love you too.”

your trip to the store was quick, making it back within a half an hour, arms full of things as you carried everything inside, closing the door with your foot. you set everything on the counter, hanging the keys back on the hook.

“i’m back!”

“i’m in the bedroom!” his voice called back to you. you made your way down the hallway and into the bedroom, smiling as he held up two shirts in the mirror.

“which looks better?” he asked, holding both up against the pair of plaid pants he had picked out. you hummed, standing behind him and watching his reflection. his hair being perfectly styled and his cologne filling the room telling you he had been getting ready while you were gone.

you pointed to the white shirt, “that one.”

“you think?”

you nodded, watching him take it off the hanger and slipping it over his shoulders. you stepped in front of him, buttoning the buttons. purposefully leaving the top few open.

he rolled up the sleeves, sending you a look, “might as well have my whole shirt unbuttoned.”

“i wouldn’t complain.” you joked and he smiled, before quickly realizing your attire. you smile as he started pulling at the hem of his hoodie that sat on your frame.

“hey! this is mine.”

the baby blue hoodie looked better on you anyway, but he still liked to joke around with you, “i know.”

“thief.”

“come and get it then.” you shrugged, crossing your arms.

“oh, so now you’re in the mood?” he asked, “what was it? the buttons?”

you laughed as he wrapped his arms around your waist, “maybe.”

“you’re going to be the death of me.”

“you love me.” you smiled, his hands finding your warm, soft skin under his hoodie.

“damn right i do, baby. til the day i die.”

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imliterallyellie · 2 days

Text

is this thing on? 🎤

nsfw, mdni

pregnancy love-making with ellie

a/n this is lowkey bad chat! also not proofread. nothing i ever write is proofread!

you loved being pregnant, really. the thought of a little human growing inside of your belly was one that you'd never grow old of. the prospect of living happily ever after with your girlfriend and a little kid of your own was so enticing, you didn't even have to think twice the moment ellie proposed you two could start trying for a baby.

your ivf journey had been far from easy, to say the least. not just for you, not just for your girlfriend but also for your relationship as a whole. failed try after failed try, it was hard not to give up on your shared dream of raising a little baby together. after countless drives up and down the country visiting different clinics, getting advice from a dozen different doctors, however many late night arguments between the two of you and many, many failed tries, you were finally met with that double line on your pregnancy test. POSITIVE, it said. even after blinking profusely and pinching yourself in the arm to make sure you weren't dreaming, those 8 letters remained very visible on the little screen of the test.

the best part of it so far had been telling ellie. you found out when she was at work, and decided not to tell her over the phone - wanting it to be a little more personal than a text. her reaction was priceless, really. after the tears, the plenty of soul-crushing hugs and however many "i can't believe it" she had in her, came the seemingly never-ending night where ellie could just not keep her hands off you, as if she wouldn't be able to have her way with you anymore on day 2 of your pregnancy.

the first couple months were pure bliss. despite your best efforts to convince ellie that you were still capable of doing dishes or walking your dog, she wouldn't let you move a finger since you found out you were pregnant. she would come home late from work, already picking up extra shifts to cover your absence from work, insisting on cleaning your shared apartment because "her pregnant girl deserves a clean house".

although as time went on, you started to experience more and more discomfort from the little gremlin growing in your belly. once you hit the start of your third trimester it was as if your mood had completely shifted. you couldn't get around the aches anymore, the pressure on your joints was unbearable and let's not even talk about the amount of times you had to go to the bathroom a day - let's say your water bill was suspiciously higher than usual the last couple of months. with the physical pain came the emotional toll. as much as you tried to embrace the process of growing a kid in your belly, you couldn't help but start feeling down the last couple of weeks.

as much as your girlfriend tried to make you feel better about the whole situation, it didn't really help. you hated that you needed a supporting arm from ellie to do whatever you wanted to do, you hated that you couldn't walk up the stairs anymore without taking a break halfway, you hated that you couldn't even grab a snack from the top shelf anymore without having to ask for help, you didn't like the sight of yourself in the mirror, you felt ugly. you felt too much, you felt like a bore.

so ellie wasn't surprised at all when she came home from work on friday night, finding you curled up into a ball on the couch trying to find some comfort in your umpteenth rewatch of Friends and a bowl of popcorn at hand's reach.

she kicked off her shoes and hung her coat on the rack trying her best not to disturb you too much, quickly heating up some pre-made dinner she picked up from the store on her way home. she brought the bowl of spaghetti bolognese with her to the sofa, crouching down next to your face, which was a little puffed up due to the crying you had been doing that evening.

she caressed your cheek with her hand that wasn't holding her plate and pressed a soft kiss to your nose before speaking up. "had another rough day, baby?" you nodded and nuzzled your face into your girlfriend's chest, listening to the sound of her heartbeat while she finished her dinner.

ellie left your side after a couple minutes to quickly rinse out her dishes and came back, carefully helping you get up from the sofa. "let's get you to bed mhm, my love?" you felt too tired to speak up, so you just stood up and leant into your girlfriend's side while she led you to your shared bedroom, preparing for another restless night.

you went through your nighttime routine without too much of a struggle. despite your girlfriend having to help you to get out and in of your clothes, you freshened up your face and brushed your teeth before getting in bed.

on days like this, you and ellie tended to finish the day talking to each other, about everything and nothing trying to divert your thoughts from the burning aches in your stomach and back. but this time, your girlfriend clearly had other plans.

it had been a while since the both of you had been anywhere near sexually active. ellie had reassured you that it wasn't because you weren't sexually appealing anymore with a big belly - it was quite the opposite, really - but you decided to take it slow, not wanting to put more strain on a body that was already being put through so much. but sometimes, on days where you felt like you had the weight of the world on your shoulders, all you needed was some mind-blowing sex.

ᖭི༏ᖫྀ

so that's how you got here, completely splayed out on your feathery mattress, naked body on full display for your lover. you were nervous, to say the least. but ellie made sure not a single insecure thought made it's way into your head.

"you look so, so pretty like this, baby" "growin' a lil baby in here huh? god you're doing so good" "y'gonna be such a great mama" "been wanting to do this for so long"

you had missed this, missed her raspy voice whispering sweet nothings in your ear, missed the sensation of her breath tickling your neck, missed the feeling of her fingers tracing patterns into your inner thighs before she slid them through your folds, who were soaking wet.

"god, baby, you're so wet f'me huh? missed my fingers so much?" your cunt glistened with your juices mixed with your girlfriend's spit. clenching around nothing, there was no need in denying that a little teasing and touching had gotten you extremely worked up.

ellie knew that you didn't want to be teased today, you didn't want to have to wait, to beg, all you needed was the comfort of her fingers inside of you, stretching you out and spreading warmth all through your body.

your girlfriend slid a finger inside, both of you surprised at how easily it went in. you felt your cheeks heat up, a small smile playing on your girlfriend's lips. she showed mercy today, and decided not to tease you about it. she needed this as much as you needed this, if not even more. so she decided to just keep going, to give you what you want and what you deserve.

a second finger followed suit, giving you that delicious stretch you were craving. ellie hovered over your pregnant body and nuzzled her face in your neck, pressing sweet, open-mouthed kisses and whispering praises in your ear, trying to make the experience as comfortable and pleasant as possible for you.

you couldn't hold back the near-pornographic noises that were leaving your mouth the second ellie started thrusting her fingers in and out of you, after having given you some time to adjust. you were tight around her fingers, your cunt harshly sucking her back in every time she retreated her hand.

the knot in your stomach started building way too soon for your liking, so you told ellie to slow down. "mhm, none of that, baby. i wanna make you feel good, 'kay? we'll just go another time, i won't stop 'til you're satisfied."

ᖭི༏ᖫྀ

fair to say, ellie kept that promise. an hour and multiple orgasms later, your body was absolutely spent. she carefully picked herself off the bed and went into the bathroom to get you a warm cloth, cleaning up the mess she made between your thighs. she came back and carefully closed the bathroom door, not wanting to disrupt your peace. ellie climbed in bed next to you, patiently waiting until you found a spot in which you were comfortable, resting your head on her chest. the sound of her heartbeat calmed you down, a much-needed change to the fast-paced evening you and her just experienced.

"thank you, els. i needed that." "anything for you, my love."

fair to say you and ellie discovered a bit more of your pregnancy sex together, before you had a little gremlin running around the house that was strongly going to limit your private time together.

#is this thing on?#torlex speaking 🌿#ellie williams #ellie williams x reader #the last of us #the last of us 2 #tlou #tlou fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction #ellie williams fluff #ellie williams smut

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satorusugurugurl · 3 days

Text

The Single Dad Club!

Summary: The Single Dad club consisted of Grto Suguru, Gojo Satoru and Nanami Kento! But with summer upon them, the men find themselves ladies who are willing to have them leave their self-appointed club!

Pairing: Nanami Kento x FAB!Reader

Word Count: 6,761

Warning: Mermaid performer, near drowning, mentions of CPR, flirting, fluff, cursing, oral sec (female receiving) smut, p in v, unprotected sex

A/N: Here’ part Ine of my Single Dad Club Summer Series! I had so much fun writing this! Ahdjfkkfkkd love me some Sexy dilfs!! 😈💚

The smell of salt water was intense as you sat on the pool's edge, which led down into the aquarium. You lifted your legs, making your silicone, iridescent mermaid tail flop in the water. It was almost showtime, and you could not wait to get into the water. You loved your job. Being a mermaid performer was one of the most incredible things you ever decided to do. Not only could you spend time around those you loved with all your heart, but you also got to swim and make children smile daily.

The door to the waiting area opened, and you looked over your shoulder at Shoko and Utahime, who wandered inside. The young couple were your coworkers. They weren’t mermaid performers like you were, but they still worked at the aquarium. Shoko was one of the marine veterinarians, and Utahime was one of the researchers at your facility. They would stay in your Hideaway room while you performed in case something terrible happened and they needed to jump in.

Not that kind of thing ever happened. But it was just a precaution. Something the duo insisted on you doing. Despite the fact one of the tour guides could help you if they decided to jump over the railing and into the deep tank, you were always in. but if you were being honest, if anyone were to help you from narrowly drowning, if that situation ever came to be, you would want it to be your two of your closest friends.

“Hey, you two!” You flopped your tail back into the water, repeatedly splashing it around.

“Hey.” Shoko yawned as Utahime helped ease you out of your lawn chair. “We were just talking about going to the bar after work. Do you want to come with us? Lord knows we all need a drink after this week.”

“Oh, sure! I have shows until six tonight.”

Shoko stuck her nose up, rolling her eyes. “You're going to be a prune by then.” you scooted over to the edge of the tank, dipping your tail in.

“I will gladly be a prune if I can make some kids smile.”

“Yeah, yeah, children, great fun.” Shoko sighed, leaning against the wall. “Just remember, if you need help, don't panic; Utahime and I will watch the screen. But you're always careful.”

You glanced up at the flat-screen television attached to the wall. The screen played a live feed of the tank you would be in. That way, if anything happened to you, your friends would be able to see you and come to your aid. Likely for you, that sort of thing has never happened in your three years working at the aquarium. So, it was more like a precautionary step for the aquarium. They didn’t want to deal with the lawsuit if anything were to happen.

But you were a very good swimmer. So you didn’t doubt it would be fine on your own if anything happened. You would need to keep a head and trust your instincts.

“Alrighty, I’ll see you guys in about thirty minutes.”

Easing yourself into the water, you took a deep breath before diving. Using all your abdominal strength, you kicked and swam further down underneath the small tube that let out into the main tank. The tank was full of different kinds of fish, making the whole mermaid experience more genuine. There were other rock formations, some netting (despite your protest) that was placed around some of the boulders at the bottom of the tank where you would typically lie during your shows.

With all the rocks and the netting in the fish, it felt like the children saw a mermaid in their natural environment. You had them throw a couple of treasure chests to make the experience more fun for the children to watch you dig through them, pulling out seashells and rocks. You all loved the setup you and the aquarium directors had created.

You could hear children screaming and shouting from the vibrations against the tank wall almost immediately, reminding you why you did precisely what you did. It was showtime! You loved making them believe and just a little magic and turning your head, waving at the blurs you see through the water. You couldn’t quite make out their shapes, but their squeals of happiness were all that mattered to you.

You weren’t in this gig for the money or the viral videos that usually came with your performances. You were in it to make children’s lives more magical. You press up against the glass, staring down at five blurry shapes. You couldn’t make out much of their features; the wide mattered to you.

You pressed your two fingers to your lips and moved them as fast as you could as you blew out a breath of air, thus making a heart-shaped bubble hit the glass before you. Screams interrupted from the other side of the thick glass; a couple of the shapes jumped up and down, and all the others stood and watched idly. You performed a couple of other bubble tricks for the crowd before swimming past one of the rock formations, where an air hose was kept out of sight so the magic wasn’t ruined for the children.

With air in your lungs, you swim back to the wall, slowly, swimming past each of the blurry figures, flipping and doing the tricks you had perfected over the years of training, from doing front and backflips to swimming and playing with the fish. Every move you make is strategically plotted and practiced. You were always ready to do whatever it took to make your shows enjoyable. If that meant you had to pucker your lips up in front of a fish.

It was the closest thing you had to a spicy date. It has been so long since you had gotten any action. You blew rings of bubbles out; you made yourself a mental note to download a dating app as soon as your shift was over. The need for human contact was so strong that you would honestly sell your voice to a witch, meaning you could go on a date and maybe take said date home and show him what else you could do with your mouth other than blowing bubbles.

Putting those horny dirty thoughts to the back of your mind, you flipped upside down against the tank wall, placing your hands against the glass separating you and the children on the other side. Too small reached out, putting their palms against yours. And while your vision was blurry from being underwater, you could make out the child's glittering bright light brown eyes on the other side of the glass.

You both stared into each other’s eyes, almost heating each other souls in a way. The child kept your gaze before looking over his shoulder, shouting something to an oversized shape behind him. The shape came forward before crouching down next to the child. Much like the child’s eyes, the man who stared at you had eyes that pierced through your soul. They were gorgeous honey-brown hues that searched your face long before he focused on the child.

They exchange words before the man gently strokes tufts of pink hair before his eyes focus back on you. Something in his watchful gaze that was almost readable, and that might’ve been because you were underwater and couldn’t see clearly, but the look had your heart racing. Flipping back up, you floated in front of the man, smiling wide, before blowing him a heart-shaped bubble with both hands.

From how the child jumped up and down, you assumed he enjoyed you flirting slightly with his parental figure. The way several other joined in and seemingly to whistle and clap that had the man rubbing his neck, shaking his head. Your lungs were beginning to burn with the need for oxygen, so you winked at the stranger before heading back to your air hose.

Just as you were about to turn to reach for it, something tugged on your silicone tail, trapping you from moving further. You saw the net when you looked back to see what you were caught on. Your bosses insisted on putting you down in the tank with you. Despite you telling them it was a terrible idea, they were persistent in using it because it would make the scene look more authentic. They didn’t care at all if it was a drowning risk for you.

In times like these, there is no reason to panic. The more you panicked, the more you struggled, the harder it would be to tell your breath. You cautiously turned your body, trying to free yourself from the netting. But you only succeeded in tightening it further around your tail. You tugged and pulled the mess ropes; the air was escaping your lungs, sending bubbles floating to the top of the tank. This was bad; the stupid nets were wrapped around you so tight that you couldn’t even slip off the tail that weighed about forty pounds. More bubbles escape your lungs as you frantically begin trying to free yourself. And for the first time in several years of being relaxed and collected, you did something you should never do.

You panicked.

You opened your mouth, yelling as if someone would hear you. Maybe Shoko would see the distress you were clearly in on the camera and come rushing to your aid at any second. But if she hasn’t noticed thus far, he wasn't sure if she would even notice until you had drowned. Salty water burned your inner nose as you began inhaling water; panic told your lungs to breathe when there was no air.

This was it, your final moments! Your death was so ridiculous. It would be featured on one of those terrible daytime shows like ‘101 Ways to Die!’ You always thought you would go down as one of the greatest mermaid performers. Instead, you would be laughed at for such an idiotic rookie mistake.

Your vision began to blur as darkness settled in around your vision as you lost consciousness.

A splash sounded from the distance as you shut your eyes. Hands quickly worked at the nets wrapped around you before you were moving. It was a white noise as warm hands pressed up and down over your chest before lips pressed over your mouth and blew into it. The exact process repeated before the white noise turned into panicked yelling and shouting as you coughed up water, your eyes widening.

“There we go!” The same warm hands gently rolled you onto your side as you retched up more water, your lungs burning in satisfaction as you gripped the damp pants of your savior. “Keep coughing; get all that water up; good job.”

“Way to go, Nanami!!” A man shouted from behind as exhaustion washed over you.

“I need a blanket now!” The man you were clinging to shouted around, his hands gently gripping your upper arms, pulling you towards his chest. Breathing in deeply, you sighed as he rubbed his hands up and down your back, heating your body. “I got you, breathe, shhh.”

You clung harder to him, sniffling as you fought back tears of fear and relief. “Nanami.” Another man sounded behind you before a warm blanket wrapped around your shivering body.

“Thank you, Geto.” The man, Nanami, shushed you again as you began breathing more steadily, your grip on him loosening. “Are you okay? Lightheaded? Chest pain?”

“J-Just c-cold.”

“I need to get you out of this tail.” he goes to tug it off, but you stop him. “The children have been ushered away; please let me help you.”

You never took your tail off in front of people, but you had no choice. One brisk nod was all he needed before your hero tugged the tail down past your legs, freeing you from its confining prison. The second your legs were free, the man wrapped your legs around him, keeping your chest pressed firmly against each other as he stroked your back. His gentle and kind touch made you feel warm in no time.

You both stayed like that, wrapped up in each other until a door slammed open. “Shoko! Over here! Utahime yelled as your friends ran towards you.

“I can take it from here, sir.”

“No, I’m okay, I got her.”

“But sir—”

“Nanami is the best pediatrician in the city.” One of the other men around you voiced clear annoyance in his tone. “Give him some space to work.”

You turned your head, looking up at your friend. “S-Shoko, I’m okay.” The shaking tone of your voice had your friend turning in your direction, long dark hair flowing. “Can you take my tail back to my car?”

“Of course.” She stroked wet strands of your hair back. “I’m sorry we were watching the camera, but I think it’s busted. One second, we watched you swimming, and then someone told us one of our performers almost drowned.”

Nanami hummed, drawing your attention for the first time. “Another thing wrong with this establishment. Putting fishnets down in a tank with an actor and broken cameras, this is a lawsuit waiting to happen.” Warm honey-brown eyes met yours, and you realize they are the same eyes you had been staring at while performing.

“It’s you—”

“It’s me.”

Your heart felt like it was about to explode as he acknowledged that it was him that you had that intimate moment with when inside the tank. Warmth spread across your cheeks as the man who saved your life grinned down at you. Was this real life? Or did you drown and go to heaven? That was the only reason an insanely hot pediatrician would smile down at you like he was.

He pulled back slightly, examining your face. “How are you feeling now? Are you warm now?”

“Honestly, I’m so embarrassed; I’ve never had an incident happen in the three years I’ve been doing this.”

“And it was not your fault. Whoever’s dumb idea it was to throw fishnet in. There is the one blame.”

There wasn’t much more you could say to that because Nanami was right. That wasn’t your fault. You had been persistent on them taking out the net for you, other mermaid performers, and the fish in the tank. Unfortunately, the aquarium thought it was best for business. Their greed nearly cost you your life today, so as much as you like your job, it might be time for you to start looking elsewhere places that consider their performer's lives.

“Thank you.” You said as Nanami listed you up, carrying you to the break room. “For saving my life.”

“My son pointed out. It looked like you were stuck. I, of course, was cautious at first, taking note of the situation myself before jumping into the tank. I just did with any good Samaritan would.”

“I owe you whatever you want, and I would gladly pay you back tenfold.”

Nanami walked into the break room, gently sitting you on one of the chairs. His face flushed as he straightened, rubbing the back of his neck. A Rosie hue dusted the tips of his ears. With a hum, you tilt your head to the side before doing the same thing on the other as he struggled to find the words he wanted to say.

Clearing his throat, Nanami held his hand, an earnest, stoic look on his face as he did. “My name is Nanami Kento, and if you would like to pay me back, how about dinner for you and me tomorrow night?” in all of your years being a performer, you have been hit on and listened to crude comments people made. Still, no one no one had ever asked you out on a date.

“Dinner? Like a date?”

“Only if you want; I’m not going to be one to pressure you into saying yes just because of what I have done. If a date is too much to ask, could you say hello to my son? He thoroughly enjoyed your performance.”

From the man who had saved your life, such a simple request, you almost wanted to shake him to tell him to ask for more. But you knew by the look on his face that he wasn’t a man who demanded retribution for his kindness.

“I would love to say hello to your son. Dinner sounds great, too.” You took a deep breath before grinning. “ If you just give me a few minutes to shower quickly and change, I can meet you at the front.”

Nanami was happy to wait while you showered quickly and gathered your belongings before you met him outside the aquarium. He was standing with two other men while children ran around near them. Nanami was holding a plastic bag, most likely his wet clothes. The aquarium must’ve provided him with some shorts and a souvenir T-shirt on the house. Standing near him was a man with long dark hair, pulled half up into a bun while the rest cascaded down his back. He was dressed in a T-shirt and jeans while two little girls clung to his pants as they listened to the adults talk. The other man standing near him had white pristine, snowy hair and dark sunglasses on the bridge of his nose as he enthusiastically spoke with his hands.

“—and then you were like, ‘She’s drowning!’ And SPLASH! You ran up those stairs so fast before diving in, and you swan-dived like a majestic bird! I’ve never been more attracted to a man in my entire life.”

You approached the group with a nervous chuckle. “Yeah, I couldn't agree more.” The trio and their children all snap their attention in your direction.

“Hi there,” Nanami smiled warmly, “thank you for agreeing to meet my son.”

“You saved my life; it’s the least I could do.”

Nanami grinned, turning his attention to the two boys playing in the grass just a bit away from you. “Yuuji, come here for a second.” A small boy with pink hair came rushing forward without being told twice. “I want you to meet—”

“The mermaid!” Yuuji had literal sparkles in his eyes as he gripped at your leggings. “Are you okay?! You have legs now!” The child had to be no older than five, and his curiosity on your legs had you giggling as you fought the urge to pinch his chubby cheeks.

“Yep! I’m doing great, thanks to you and your dad.” You knelt in front of the small boy. “Thank you so much.”

Yuuji grinned and reached for his father's hand with a comprehensive, toothy grin. “You’re welcome!! Thank you for all the kisses!” Nanami and the other two men chuckled.

“Well, you’re very welcome.”

“Careful, Yuuji; I heard your dad is going to take the mermaid here out for a date.”

“You're taking the mermaid on a date, Dad?!”

Nanami nodded before shaking his head at his enthusiastic child. “Yes, can you introduce yourself?”

“Oh, right! I'm Yuuji!”

“Very good, Yuuji.” Nanami praised his son, ruffling his hair

The dark-haired man said, stepping forward to shake your hand. “I’m Geto Suguru, and these are my daughters Nanako and Mimiko. Girls, say hello.” His very well and polite daughters both greeted you properly. You shook Geto’s hand before releasing it as the white-haired man pushed forward.

“And I’m Gojo Satoru. The two gremlins playing over there are my kiddos. Megumi and Tsumiki.” he motioned towards the trio of men and their children that gathered around. “And we’re The Single Dad Club!”

Both the other men groaned in protest. “We told you that’s a terrible name, Satoru.” Gojo pulled his sunglasses off, revealing bright blue eyes.

“Why is it so terrible?”

“Because it’s just a terrible name for a club,” Nanami said, cocking an eyebrow.

“You’re just jealous that Nanami has a date, and we’re both still single.” At Geto’s words, Gojo fell silent. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.” With a gentle smile, Geto pulled his friend away, leaving you, Nanami, and Yuuji standing around.

“Well, as much as I hate to say goodbye, I need to get this one home and start on dinner after a well-needed shower.”

“Oh, trust me, I understand.” Reaching into your bag, you handed Nanami one of your business cards. “That’s my number; call me some time for the dinner date?”

“I’ll text you tonight once I get this one in bed.” With a single swoop, Nanami lifted Yuuji in his arms. “Would that be okay?”

“More than okay.”

“Great, I’ll see you later.”

“Bye, Nanami, bye, Yuuji.”

“Bye!! Dad, will you help me with my paper when we get home? I know what I'm going to write about. For my summer homework!

“And what's that?”

“About how my dad saved a mermaid!”

You waved them off until you could no longer see them. It has been a truly eventful day, having your performance go wrong. You just scoring a date with a total hottie without even having to download a dating app on your phone was well worth almost drowning over. All you needed to do was wait for Nanami to text you, which wasn't long. It was a couple of hours.

The two of you planned to go out to dinner the following day, and your heart fluttered from the second you woke up the following date until you stood outside for Nanami to come to pick you up. Your hands were shaky and sweating; you had no idea why you were so nervous! It was just a date; nothing serious would happen unless Nanami wanted to take it further.

You wouldn’t be opposed to that at all.

The feeling of his lips against yours, wow, regardless if it was just CPR, you longed to feel his mouth again. Preferably now that your life wasn’t in danger. You wanted to wrap yourself around his body to show how strong your core was. You wanted to fuck his brains out, to express just how grateful you were for him saving your life.

“Are you alright?” Nanami’s voice drew you out of the trance you found yourself in.

“Huh!” Looking up from your plate, you find Nanami staring at you, eyes full of concern. “Oh! Yes! I'm so sorry, I was lost in thought!” The sexy pediatrician just smiled before sipping on his wine. “I was just thinking about—yesterday.”

Nanami hummed, placing his wine glass down on the table. “Yes, yesterday was quite exciting. I must agree.” He reached across the table, putting his hand on top of yours. “Are you doing all right? I can’t imagine how terrifying it must’ve been.”

“I’m doing great; I’m just thinking about how grateful you were there when it happened. You and Yuuji, I probably wouldn't be here if it wasn’t for you both.”

“I’ve never been more happy about a field trip. I wasn’t going to come; I was asked to cover a rounding shift at the hospital for one of my colleagues. I was going to break the news to Yuuji when I picked him up from school last week, but he had borrowed a book about different sea animals from the library. I had never seen him so excited about a school trip.” A fond smile graced his lips. “It would have been cruel if I picked to work over an experience my child was excited for. So I decided to take a two-week vacation instead of working.”

“Two weeks?”

“I plan on taking some day trips with the gentleman I’m friends from—”

“The Single Dad Club!” You grin automatically, knowing who he is speaking of. Hearing the nickname for the self-appointed club, leave your lips, your date cringing. “Oh, come on, it’s kind of fun!”

“It's a horrendous nickname that we should’ve buried the second Gojo said it.”

The way his eyebrow twitched had you grinning. “Nanami, you're so cute.” The man before you blushed, his hand reaching up to rub at his neck. “I’m sorry. Please continue.”

“We’re planning on doing this sort of staycation. We plan to go to the local pool and the library downtown to rent out some books for the children, and then we plan to end our staycation at a beach house before we have to return to work.”

“A bunch of summer adventures for the members of the Single Dad Club.”

Nanami hummed, taking a long sip of his wine. “I’m hoping that if this date continues to go as well as it is, I’ll be sending in my letter of resignation to said club.” His bold invitation had you biting down on your lip.

So your attraction wasn’t one-sided. Nanami seemed as eager to see where this could go as you were. Perhaps if you were lucky enough, it would end up with you returning to his place or vice versa. Then again, the man was a single dad, Yuuji’s mother was no longer in the picture, and you understood that there may be some boundaries that were not meant to be crossed now. That didn’t mean you couldn’t flirt and see where the night would take you.

Reaching your foot out, you gently caressed it against Nanami’s ankle briefly before pulling back just for him to do the same thing to you. His foot gently caresses your ankle up your leg just an inch before pulling back. Playing footsie never felt so naughty as you both went back and forth, caressing one another’s legs. You only stopped once you felt as though your underwear was soaking wet; pulling your foot back, he let out a raspy sigh before chugging down the rest of your wine.

“So, Nanami, what time does your babysitter need you to come home?”

Nanami followed your lead, chugging down the rest of his wine and gently placing the glass on the table. “Yuuji is at a slumber party at Gojo’s house with Megumi.” His eyes narrowed; he hooked his foot back around yours, bringing it back towards him, causing you to gasp, gripping the table's edge. His foot slowly ended up the side of your ankle before slowly reaching back down.

“Well, I suppose there’s just one other question.”

“And what might that be?”

“Shall we continue our date at my place or yours?”

You both decided Nanami’s apartment would be more suitable for continuing the date since it was closer and more convenient. And you barely could keep your feet off each other; if you drove across town to your apartment, you weren’t sure you would get through the traffic without ripping each other’s clothes off. The drive to Nanami’s condo was full of tension. His hand gently grabbed your thigh, rubbing it as you ran your hand up and down his forearm. His touch alone nearly had you screaming in the passenger seat. You couldn’t wait to see what else he had in store for you.

You’re not sure how you both manage to keep off each other up the elevator to his front door—but the second the door was shut and locked, you both pounced on each other. You both quickly worked at clothes; Nanami’s buttons were undone rapidly as he unzipped your dress. You moved in sync, not fumbling once as the passion and the desire moved you backward further into the apartment, shoes being kicked off, belts unbuckled ad, and dresses being dropped to the floor.

Never in your entire life have you felt such a connection with another human being. Nanami was something special, And you had never wanted someone so bad. Somehow, you managed to break the kiss that tasted of strawberries and champagne long enough to allow Nanami to lift your thighs, wrapping your legs around his waist as he carried you through the dimly lit condo.

“Oh my fuck, you're so fucking hot. I want you. I want you so fucking bad.” You growled into his ear as you hungrily kissed and nipped at his neck with a whine

“Then you’ll have me.” With a growl, Nanami tossed you onto a luscious bed. “Only if I could have you as well. Because ever since I saw you swimming, blowing kisses. You enamored me like a siren casting her spell upon me.” You tried to get up on your knees to reach for his belt, but Nanami shoved you back down. “None of that now; you're a guest in my house; allow me to treat you.”

Nanami got on the bed, the mattress dipping under his weight as he grabbed your underwear, tugging them down past your legs. He then hooked both legs over his shoulders before slowly laying down on his stomach, his lips sucking at the sensitive flesh of your thighs, leaving an array of hickies up your skin. His mouth and tongue had you gasping, hands slinging to his sheets as he inches closer and closer to you, dripping sex.

“Fuuuuck,” he breathed out, trailing his tongue up your thigh before his face was right in front of your pussy. “You smell so good.”

“Tha-a-ahh ooooh fuck me!” Right before you could think of him properly, his mouth was sealed around your clit, sucking gently on the bundle of nerves before his tongue swirled around it in the most addictive way. “Oooh fuck me—”

Nanami chuckled as he pulled his mouth away from your client, his tongue flicking it gently. “Mmm~ I plan on doing just that as soon as you cum on my tongue.” His mouth was back up on your pussy, tongue sliding up and down your slit, lapping hungrily at your slick folds.

You gasped as he slowly pushed two thick fingers inside of your tight hole, fingering you as his mouth focused solely on your clit, suckling on it, drawing out gasps and whines from deep in your chest. You squirmed and arched, legs shaking as you reached down, fisting his blonde hair. Feeling you shaking all because of him gave Nanami a certain sense of pride as he ate you out faster, tongue flattening against your sensitive it as his fingers hooked up, rubbing your g-spot.

You gritted your teeth, your other hand reaching down and gripping his hair. Getting his hair pulled had Nanami growling against you, but what got him going was when you started rocking your hips against his face. Taking control, using him to get off. There was something about you doing that that had pre-cum dribbling out of his tip, staining the inside of his boxers. “Ooooh god!” you cried out, rocking your hips faster against his willing mouth.“Oooh fuck! Oooh fuck! Fuck!” Your cunt twitched and throbbed around his fingers, clit twitching against his tongue as you rode his face, bringing yourself closer and closer to your orgasm. “I-Im gonna cum! Gonna cum! Oh fuck~ suck my clit suck my clit!” you ordered, making Nanami’s eyes narrow in pure need as he did as you commanded, suckiljng the sensitive bud, resulting in your hips rising off the bed, as you arched your back cumming all over his face and tongue.

The angels sang as you saw the pearly gates, but Nanami’s gentle thrusting of his fingers and little laps brought your soul back into your body. The rippling traces of your orgasm faded into nothing as your body collapsed limply against his bed. Kento chuckled, pressing sweet, loving kisses over your thighs, up your hips against your stomach, see-through closer and closer to your face. The feeling of his lips tracing over your skin had you giggling softly; you bit down on your bottom lip as his face came above you.

He kissed you with a need so strong it made you dizzy. Your hands down, working at his belt, I’m buttoning his trousers before you push them down past his ass. Electricity swarmed between your bodies as the room grew hotter with pure lust. You needed to feel him buried deep inside your pussy, and he needed to feel your warm walls wrapped around his thick, long cock.

“I want you—” Kento sighed out roughly as you wrapped your hand around his cock, pumping it. “I wanted you the second you blew that kiss at me like you were in the tank. Fuck— you look so beautiful; I just knew I had to know who you were fuck, fuck, fuck, your hand feels so good.”

The raw desire in his voice, the confession of his attraction to you, and you wet and willing to do anything he asked. “I want you too; I want you so bad, Nanami Kento, please~!” Hearing that you wanted him just as bad as he wanted you was Nanami’s breaking point.

He positioned himself between your legs, grabbing one, hooking it around his hip while he placed the other over his shoulder. Ever so gently, he pressed the tip of his massive cock against your entrance, rubbing it up and down, collecting your slick over his shaft. The slit of his cock head rubs gently over your clit, a string stretched between your most intimate parts. Seeing that, the usually calm and collected doctor was losing his absolute shit.

“Need you honey—” He pressed the tip inside of you, sending your head rocking back against his plush pillows. “Oh my god, you’re so fucking tight.”

“Y-You’re so fucking thick.”

Nanami panted as he looked down at you. “Do you need me to pull out?”

“N-No—” you took a deep breath, “just needed a second to adjust. You’re so big it feels so good.”

Nanami nodded again before slowly starting to push further inside of you. “Just let me know if you need me to stop, okay? But God, you’re so fucking tight; feels so good around my cock.”

“Ah~ fuck Kento!”

Nanami groaned, his head falling to the side, resting against your leg over his shoulder. “I-I’m all the way inside.” He grunted as he bottomed out inside of you, all nine inches of his thick cock buried deep inside your tight heat as your hips met each other.

“Oh, my fuck—” You glance down at your conjoined bodies, whimpering as he slowly begins rocking into you. “Oooh god fuck me, Nanami~ please fuck me!”

Nanami placed one hand on your hip while the other gently groped at your thigh, which was draped over his shoulder. He didn’t need to be told twice to fuck such a beautiful woman like you. He pulled out hips, rolling into you, gently thrusting in and out of your tight cunt. You guessed and whined in tandem with his movements, your hands gripping the sheets underneath you.

His cock slid in and out of your pussy, and each stroke of his cock inside of you rubbed perfectly against your g-spot before pressing further and hitting your cervix. It wasn’t painful, but God didn’t feel good. It was so intense and pleasurable. It felt as though his cock was perfectly molded for your body. Hitting every spot perfectly without you even telling him how to move or where to hit; he just knew.

With every thrust into your cunt, your hips rose to meet him. Not be granted, his finger is digging into the flesh of your leg and your hip so hard you knew it was going to leave bruises. Who gave a fuck about bruises in a moment like this?! Especially when you had never been fucked like this before.

“Kento~ Nnngh! Fuck! Ooooh fuck me, fuck me please, faster.”

“Yeah, you want me to fuck you faster? I’ll fuck you faster, honey.” His teeth nipped at your leg before dropping it off his shoulder, wrapping the other around his hip. “Be sure to scream my name when you come on my cock okay?”

“S-Someone’s g-getting c-co-oooh! Ah! Ah! Ah!” Nanami grabbed both sides of your hips, holding you in place as his cock slammed in and out of your pussy, going faster and harder with each thrust. “Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” you abandoned your grip on the sheets reaching behind Nanami’s toned muscular back, digging your manicured nails into his skin, dragging it down, scratching him up, marking him.

The headboard slammed against the wall over and over again with each thrust. The bedframe squeaked, but neither of you could even hear it over Nanami’s heavy grunts and your breath moans. His lips were on yours, and a deep, searing kiss, one that stole what little breath you had left away. He felt so good as you mostly tried to kiss him back with the same enthusiasm, massaging each other lips, getting nipped and bid at as nails dug into the skin and grips tightened as Nanami fucked you into the mattress.

You weren’t going to last, and Nanami knew that.

His fingers tightened harder into your hips as he jackhammered his cock inside you, angling it perfectly to slam over and over into your sweet spots that made you see the heavenly Gates again. Your mouth fell open, but there was no escape as your eyes went wide, focusing on the man above you. He smiled so lovingly before he grunted, dropping his head to your shoulder and peppering your skin with kisses. It was a chill contrast to the way he was fucking you. You get even closer to the edge as you pull one away from his back, reaching down and rubbing your clit in fast circles.

“I-Im gonna cum, gonna cum Kento, oooh fuck please cum with me!”

“Yeah, you want me to cum with you? Nnngh! Want me to cum?”

“Y-Yes, yes, yes! Please, Kento, fuck, please!”

“I will~ cum, baby~ cum for me.”

A piercing scream had your ears ringing as you came squirting all over the cock that was fucking you so good. Your juices sprayed out onto his crotch. Nanami somehow managed to pull himself out, jerking his cock furiously above you. “Cumming baby~ oooh fuck, fuck!” Spurts of hot cum spilled out of his cock, coating your stomach with his seed. Squeezing his shaft, none, he shook his dick, making sure all of the cum was out before he collapsed on the bed next to you.

While the tremors continued to rake through your body, Nanami wrapped his arm around you, pulling you to his body, his hand rubbing your back, gently praising you as his fingers massaged at your lower back. While the last tremors came to a stop, you collapsed limply against him, breathing heavily as he pressed a kiss on the top of your head. Lifting your head, you grinned, finding him drunkenly watching you, admiring the flush tint to your skin before he leaned down, kissing you softly.

“You have no idea how amazing that felt for me.”

“I could say the same thing. I normally don’t jump into bed right away with women I just met. Honestly, it’s been quite some time since I went on a date.”

You ran your fingers up and down his chest as you observed him. “I know exactly what you mean.” His hand gently reaches down, gripping your chin, lifting it, forcing you to look into his eyes.

“What I’m getting at is that I’m not the type of man who does one-night stands.”

“Oh well, that's very good to know.” You yawned, snuggling deeper into the warmth that radiated off his body. “Does that mean I can ask you for a breakfast date tomorrow? Before you go, pick up your son?”

“I love the sound of that.” He mumbled, leaning down and kissing your lips.

When Nanami decided to take two weeks off for summer vacation with his son, he had no idea he would save the life of a mermaid performer. He also had no clue that said performer was what was missing in his life. The summer had just begun, and he already felt like he had a long-time romance with just two interactions with you; he couldn’t wait to see what the rest of the summer had in store for you both.

The Single Dad Club lost one of their members that day after the aquarium, just what did the summer heat Heaven store for the last two remaining members of the club?

Forever Tag List:

@darkstarlight82 @pandoness @nealeart @simp-plague @sugurubabe @chilichopsticks

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artdcnaldson · 11 hours

Text

Tie Break || Art Donaldson x Reader ; Patrick Zweig x Reader

this can be read as a sequel to changeover or as a standalone :) enjoy <3

Rating: E (18+)

Word Count: 7.7k

Warnings: SMUT (p in v smut x2, f!recieving oral, handjob, creampie, cum eating), angst with a happy ending, infidelity, toxic relationships, everyone in this is kind of a horrible person, language obviously

Summary: It’s summer in Atlanta, 2011. For the second time in your life, you’re the clear second choice. When the opportunity arises, you find a temporary distraction in Art Donaldson.

A/N: FINALLY here it is! The 2011 Atlanta fic. They’re back, they’re older, they’re even more toxic. Let me know if you’re interested in a part 3!

It was hot, even though the sun had long since dipped beneath the horizon. It was a cloying, oppressive heat that made the stupid, business-casual top you wore stick to your skin.

The article you were working on was halfway written, something you could knock out in the next hour if you really tried. Your drink was watered down from the heat, weak when it hit your tongue. A frown turned your lips, but you really shouldn’t have been drinking anyway.

"Working late?”

The voice was so familiar that you could’ve recognized it anywhere, any time. Art Donaldson was one of the most recognizable men in the country, but to you, he seemed so different. The boyishness was still there, but it lay beneath a new level of confidence.

You took a sip of your drink, trying to appear nonchalant, like it hadn’t been four years since you last spoke. “I’m on deadline. I’m writing a feature on Anna Mueller heading into the US Open next month.”

Without asking, he sat down across from you at the small bistro table. He was so close you could smell the minty gum he had been chewing. It nearly made you smile. Old habits die hard.

“So you write about tennis?” He asked, meeting your gaze.

“I write about athletes,” you corrected. “I was going to be here anyway, and since Anna is heading for a Grand Slam, I thought it would be easy enough. Grab a couple of interviews, watch a few matches.”

He nodded, leaning back in the chair, trying his best to be causal in a situation that definitely wasn’t. You sipped again at your drink, peering at him over the edge of the glass.

“You have a match tomorrow,” you said, as though he needed reminding. “Shouldn’t you be listening to shitty pop punk to get yourself psyched right now?”

A smile spread across his lips, and he looked so much like the guy you knew from college that it made your chest tug uncomfortably. Same hair, the same smile, the same crinkle at the edges of his eyes when he was amused by something. You couldn’t help but smile along with him, like the past four years were nothing. “I don’t do that anymore,” he said with a laugh. “Do you want another drink?”

You looked down at your glass, mostly water and thin ice cubes. “Rum and coke?” You asked, giving him a tiny smile. He nodded and disappeared towards the bar.

It felt strange, sitting there in the quiet, your article the furthest thing from your mind. Four years. It felt like yesterday and an eternity ago that you’d last spoken with him. He was a familiar stranger, nearly unknowable.

Your cursor blinked a few more times before you shut your laptop and slid it back inside your beat-up work bag.

“Running off?” He asked, catching you in the act of packing your things. You shook your head and accepted the fresh drink with a smile. “You said you were going to be in Atlanta anyway,” he said as he sat, spreading out, making himself comfortable in the shitty bar seating. “When you were talking about writing about Anna.”

You nodded. “Mhmm, I did,” you replied, chewing the inside of your lip nervously. His gaze was intense, falling just on the other side of casual. You felt tiny under that gaze, like you were guilty of a crime you didn’t know you’d committed.

“And you’re here for Patrick?” The words were nonchalant, but you could hear the accusation beneath them, the history of the two of them just in one sentence. It turned something in your stomach, the possessiveness in his voice. You could hear it, even four years out.

The new drink was strong, but it was the perfect way to hide the distaste in your expression. The burn of liquor into your chest grounded you back in reality instead of the easy allure of nostalgia. “Yeah,” you said after a beat. “I try my best to go to all of his matches.”

Art narrowed his eyes, just slightly. There was still an element of exaggerated friendliness, the casual smile on his lips, the open body language. All of it masking the lingering resentment and hurt that was buried beneath mountains of nostalgia. Deep enough that neither of you had realized it was still there until you found yourselves face to face. There was an unspoken question, one that he didn’t want to ask, one that you didn’t want to answer.

How long?

You took another drink.

“Where is Patrick?” He asked, glancing around like he might materialize out of thin air.

“He went out for a smoke, or to walk around and clear his head, or something,” you said with a shrug. “I’m not his keeper. Where’s Tashi?”

His jaw clenched and he looked away— a sore spot. A scab you wanted to pick at until it bled, dig your nails in. Maybe that was your eighteen-year-old self talking.

“You never used to let her get too far away from you,” you noted, mirth dripping from each syllable. “Bet you came down here looking for her. Your leash must’ve been just a little too loose this time and she slipped it.”

You took a long drink, nails tapping against the glass as you considered your words. Tashi wasn’t the type of woman who let a man hold her back. If you were trying to be more accurate, rather than just piss him off, you might’ve fixed the analogy. Art was the sad little puppy following her around. She tied his leash to a lamp post for a fucking break.

“Do you remember the day Tashi got injured?” He asked, changing the subject suddenly.

You blinked slowly, appraising him. But his expression gave nothing away. “I do.”

A wry smile spread across his lips, and he met your gaze with a coldness that you didn’t recognize. Mean in the way injured animals like to snap at the nearest hand. “It was Patrick in your room that night, wasn’t it?”

Your brows furrowed, face falling at his words. “What?”

He made a face, something akin to skepticism, but crueler. It made your stomach turn.

“You were fucking someone in your room,” he said plainly. “And I’ve always had a suspicion that it was Patrick. Was it?”

That didn’t do much to clear up your confusion. “You were there?”

He laughed, mirthless, and nodded. “I was, uh, sitting by the door like an asshole. I came to apologize, to beg for you back, but instead, I spent the night listening to my girlfriend getting fucked on the other side of the door.”

Annoyance flickered in your gaze. He knew of a wound of your own, and he relished in picking at it the way you’d relished in digging your fingers into his. “I wasn’t your girlfriend, Art.”

“Right, you weren’t. But you’re Patrick’s girlfriend now, is that it?”

Heat burned in your cheeks. Your relationship with Patrick was… tempestuous to say the least. Most of the time he was your boyfriend, but others he was just a friend that you could count on for a good fuck, sometimes not even a friend. At the moment, he was the former, but that could always change.

It wasn’t easy, being with someone whose emotions ran on an equally short fuse. You’d sound too much like his parents, or he’d devalue your work, or Patrick would forget to take out the trash in your apartment and you’d snap, or you’d mispronounce a word one too many times and it would drive him crazy. Insignificant things could feel big with him, because of him. For better or worse.

“At the moment, yes.”

“At the moment.” He echoed, laughing like he was in on some joke you were painfully unaware of.

”That’s amusing to you?” You asked, raising a brow.

He shrugged, picking at his jeans. “Your choice of words is interesting.” He lets that hang in the air before he meets your gaze again. “Do you think Patrick would’ve even noticed you if it hadn’t been for me?”

You scoffed, rolling your eyes. “Does it matter?” You asked. “You realize that we’ve been together going on four years now, right? Broken up, dating, fucking, whatever. You realize that there may be more important things in our life than you?”

“Maybe, but I doubt it. I think you know that whatever you have, it’s built on the fact that you were a warm body when he needed it. Just like you were for me.”

That arrogant expression, like he actually fucking knew anything about you anymore was the last straw. You stood suddenly, grabbing your bag. You weren’t Art Donaldson’s little lapdog anymore— you didn’t have to sit there and take all the shit he doled out.

“Goodnight, Art. Thanks for the drink.”

It was funny, how your weaknesses were still so exposed. Art’s was Tashi, and it probably always would be. His desire to be seen, to impress, painted upon every lovely feature. And yours, raw and bleeding and obvious— the unbearable, visceral need to be wanted.

You made it to the elevator before you felt his presence behind you. Wordless, but so close it was suffocating. You jabbed the up button over and over in frustration, knowing it wouldn’t speed anything up.

Art stepped into the elevator with you, so close you could feel the body heat radiating off of him. He always burned hot, like a human furnace.

It was silent as the lift lurched upwards. You pressed against the back corner, watching the number of the floor increase one by one.

“Patrick is with Tashi,” Art said without looking at you, just as the elevator opened on the floor of your room. You froze, swallowing hard. “I saw them in the hotel bar, then they left together. What do you think they’re doing right now?”

You shook your head dumbly, pulse thrumming in your throat. “Go fuck yourself, Art,” you said weakly, because what else was there to say? You stepped into the hallway— lit with dim yellow light so you couldn’t see where the wallpaper peeled and the carpet was stained.

“If you need somewhere to wait them out, and you will, I’m in room 13 on the seventh floor.” The elevator doors closed, and you were alone.

The hallway was winding, and you felt a bad sort of anticipation of what you might find, like a sick feeling in your gut. You stood in front of the room, 306, and froze.

The door to your room was closed, no light shone from beneath the door, but you could hear them. Muffled, but clear enough. A pretty voice and breathy moans. Patrick’s laugh, the thud of something falling off the dresser.

Your room key was in your purse— you could’ve gotten it out and stopped it, but what good would that have done? You’d still spend the night humiliated, facing opposite walls as Patrick, lying in the same sheets he’d just fucked her in.

You dropped the bag by the door and took a slow, shaky breath to calm yourself down.

Tashi Duncan. She had lingered on the edges of your relationship with Patrick too. She was Patrick’s first choice, just as she’d been Art’s. You’d never blamed them for that, you knew where you stood, and you chose them anyway.

It was easy to choose them when you thought that the threat was nonexistent— when distance made you feel safe. You could hear her and him, but it felt like mere static in your brain.

You knew how Art felt, back at Stanford. Sulking outside the door, unable and unwilling to stop what was happening on the other side.

You were in the elevator before you realized you’d walked away. Shitty soft rock played over the speakers, and a poster on the wall advertised a continental breakfast. Your stomach turned uncomfortably.

You knocked on the door— room thirteen, an unlucky number. Maybe it didn’t bode well. As you waited for the door to open, your nails tapped a staccato rhythm against your thigh.

Art opened the door like he’d been expecting someone else. Maybe he had half-expected you to interrupt and send Tashi back upstairs, but no. He got you standing at his door with fiery eyes and an expectant expression.

Second choice, second choice, second choice.

Art kissed you for the first time in four years, and you let him. Not because you wanted to hurt Patrick or Tashi, but because you knew it would hurt you. His tongue pressed between the seam of your lips like he belonged there, licking into your mouth like he wanted to reclaim every part of you that Patrick had touched. You pushed him with a firm hand on his chest and he stumbled backward into the room. Despite everything, he smiled.

His hotel room was nearly identical to yours and Patrick’s. But you didn’t have time to really take in the details when he had his tongue in your mouth, kissing you hungrily.

That afternoon, you kissed Patrick after he lost his match. You wondered if Art could still taste him on your tongue then, if he wanted to drown out the taste of him.

It was different than you were used to. Four years with Patrick meant that you’d grown accustomed to certain ways that he did things— the intensity behind each kiss, each touch. His emotions— good, bad, in between— were never masked, never repressed.

When Patrick kissed you, when he touched you, when he fucked you— both of you were laid completely bare.

Art was different. When he kissed you it was through a certain level of performance, like he’d learned how from a searing romance film. In college, you’d believed that he kissed you like that because deep down, he did love you. Even at that moment, years out from your relationship with him, it muddled your brain.

Your sensible work heels had long since been kicked off by the door. Art’s fingers undid the button and zip of your jeans deftly, with a confidence that had only doubled since Freshman year. They wound up in a heap against the hotel dresser.

In his haste to remove your (also sensible, and very business casual) button-down, he popped about half of the buttons off completely.

“Sorry,” he said. The grin on his lips made you wonder if sorry was really how he felt. “I’ll buy you a new one.”

“Stop talking.” You pulled off your bra and lost it somewhere across the room in your haste. Art was pulling off his clothes— his hoodie and the shirt beneath. His jeans and shoes toed off and left to be dealt with later.

He kissed you again, guiding you exactly where he needed. Your knees hit the back of the mattress and he eased you down without moving his lips from yours. When your head hit the sheets, you smelled perfume so sweet that it was nearly intoxicating. You turned your head, breathing deeply. Tashi. In this same bed, in this same spot. It made something stir inside you— right in your chest. A hint of wrongness, a hint of hurt.

Art pulled back, moving his lips along your jaw, down to the junction of your throat.

“Stop thinking,” he murmured against your skin, kissing down to your tits. “I don’t want you thinking about Patrick. Not when you’re with me.”

The words were mumbled against soft, supple skin. His eyes were intent as they looked up at you, the demand of momentary fidelity in his eyes. You wanted to slap that expression off of his face, or run your thumb along his cheek and hold his face in your hands.

How was it fair that he asked you that when he’d lingered like a ghost on the edges of whatever it was that you and Patrick had? How was it fair for him to look at you like that?

He took a nipple into his mouth and you gasped as his teeth grazed against the sensitive skin. Soft kisses before he suckled softly. “Okay,” you gasped, lying through your teeth. “I’m only thinking of you.”

His hair was still long, kept the same way he wore it in school. Your fingers tangled in his hair like muscle memory, scratching against his scalp as he kissed along your skin with wet lips, treating your other breast with the same, hungry attention.

“Still so fucking hot,” he mumbled against your skin. “Should’ve— fuck— should’ve kept you. What do you want, huh? Tell me.”

Your mind swam with possibilities, but you didn’t even know where to begin. Your mind was stuck on his previous words. Should’ve kept you. What the fuck was that supposed to mean? “I don’t know,” you replied, completely honest. “Whatever you want.”

He accepted that easily— it was so similar to how you’d been for him in college. You gasped as he kissed down your sternum, then your stomach. His lips found the waistband of your panties and he grinned, tugging at the lace with his teeth, letting it snap back against your hip.

He peeled your panties down slowly, letting his hands trail down the expanse of your legs. The possessiveness of the touch sent a thrill up your spine. His lips grazed along your skin, from your ankle, up your calf, then your knee. Your legs spread instinctively, welcoming him right back where he knew he belonged. His pretty lips trailed wet kisses up your thighs, stopping just where you wanted him.

You expected him to rush. He’d seen Patrick and Tashi leave, which meant they’d finish before you two, more likely than not. There was every reason in the world to make things quick— to fuck you and make you leave.

Instead, he took his time with you. Soft, teasing kisses peppered on the supple skin of your thighs before he nuzzled into your cunt. The first delve of his tongue was slow and exploratory, tasting the arousal that had pooled at your core.

”God, you still taste so fucking sweet.”

Another thing you’d nearly forgotten about Art— in all things, he was methodical.

He started with kitten licks at your clit— light brushes with his tongue that made you whimper needily for more. His tongue circled you there, and he relished in the way your fingers tugged on his hair at the sensation.

Then he wrapped his lips around the sensitive bud, sucking with more pressure until a strangled moan squeezed past your lips. Your thighs tensed on either side of his head, holding him there as he alternated between slow, soothing licks and firm suction.

It was frustrating, how wet you were. Art had brought out the worst in you, turned you into something that left you feeling genuinely embarrassed. And still, you were slick, dripping down to the sheets. A mess of arousal and Art’s spit.

When he eased a finger into your cunt, it slid in like your body was made to fit whatever he could give you. At that point, you very well could have been. What were you, if not an object orbiting in the atmosphere of his life?

He looked up at you, seeming so fucking intent on making it feel good for you as he crooked his finger. It rubbed against the soft, spongy spot within you and you cried out, eyes rolling back.

“That’s it, huh?” He cooed as he pressed a second finger inside of you. Your arm was slung over your face. You couldn’t let yourself keep looking at him when he was looking at you the same way he had in college. The same fucking expression that got your head all mixed up in the first place.

He pressed a soft kiss to your clit and you whimpered. “I know it feels good, baby, just relax.”

His fingers thrust within you with a slow, deep pressure as he continued to make out with your clit. It was always so good with him— you’d nearly forgotten how easy it was for him to bring you to the edge.

When you came, it wasn’t like what you had grown used to with Patrick— sudden and overwhelming, like it had been ripped from some secret place within you. It was intense, but slow to build, seeming to last forever as Art’s fingers and tongue worked you through it. Your breath was shaky as he pulled back, pretty mouth wet with your arousal.

“Do you want to stop?” He asked, looking up at you expectantly.

You should’ve stopped— rationally, you knew that it was best to turn back and quit before you fucked up the situation beyond repair.

But it was Art. He could’ve had anyone else, but he wanted you. Maybe not forever, or even longer than that night. But for then.

You shook your head softly. “No. Do you think we should stop?”

His fingers moved between your thighs, circling your clit. “We definitely should. You’re with Patrick.”

You sighed, eyes fluttering as he caressed you with featherlight touches. “Don’t fucking talk about him,” you said, but your words came out with no bite. How could they, when he was playing with your body like a favorite toy?

“No?” He asked. He was wearing a smug sort of expression. “You don’t want me to talk about your boyfriend, huh? Too personal?”

You moaned as he applied more pressure at the apex of your thighs, making your cunt clench and ache to be filled.

“Does Patrick know how much you’ve missed me?” He asked. Your breath caught in your throat, and he just smiled. “I bet he does. I think he knows that if he just drops my name in a conversation, your pussy gets wet.”

You moaned softly at his words, chest heaving with soft pants. You weren’t even sure if it was true, but it felt like it could’ve been then. He leaned down, his words spoken close to your ear.

“I can go slow. Make it last for you.” His lips brushed the shell of your ear, making you shiver.

You nodded eagerly, turning your head to capture his lips with yours. The kiss was slow, like you had all the time in the world. His tongue against yours, the weight of his body on top of you, the feel of him hard, pressing against your thigh.

He sat back to strip off his boxers, and you relished in the sight of him laid bare before you. You’d nearly forgotten how pretty he was— big and flushed nearly red with need. It made your heart hammer with nerves; your excitement and shame and need rolled into one messy, electrifying tangle.

His hair flopped into his eyes as he held himself over you, just like you remembered. You reached up, brushing it out of his eyes with a tender hand. His lips brushed against the inside of your wrist, right where your pulse thrummed in your veins.

“Tell me you’ve missed me.”

Heat flooded your entire body, as you repeated the words. “I missed you, Art.” You reached between your bodies, wrapping your hand around his cock, and guiding it towards your entrance. He moaned and bucked instinctively into your hand.

”Tell me you want me to fuck you, no one else.” You could hear the implications in his words. Tell me you want me, not Patrick.

“I want you to fuck me.”

Art pressed himself inside of you, sinking into the welcoming warmth of your cunt. You wrapped your legs around his waist, squeezing him closer, deeper, until his balls pressed firm against you and there was nothing else to give.

He thrust shallowly, rocking against a spot deep within you, one that made your eyes flutter with each brush against it.

“You’re so tight still,” he moaned, lips moving against your throat. “Pussy’s made just for me.”

He touched you like he hadn’t forgotten how you felt or what you needed. Spoke to you like you were one of his possessions.

You lost yourself in it— the sweet, filthy words spoken against your skin, and the rhythm of his body moving against yours. His lips captured yours with a hungry insistence, like he could convey four years' worth of unspoken words with a few brushes of his tongue against yours.

When he pulled back, lips spit slick and looking so pretty, you thought maybe there was a sort of understanding between the two of you.

His head fell back as he sped up his thrusts, chasing his release. There wasn’t time to stretch it out, to spend as much time as you could with each other’s bodies.

“Need you to cum,” he said, sliding a hand between your thighs to rub your still-sensitive clit. Your cunt was squeezing him tight, body aching for it, for him, brought to the edge simply because he’d asked for it. “C’mon— you get so tight when you cum, need to feel it again.”

It was like your body was hardwired to give him exactly what he wanted. You came with broken moans of his name and legs squeezing him closer, deeper. Your chest heaved with shaking breaths and punched out whimpers as he kept fucking into you.

He was practically crushing you with his weight, pinning you down, groaning into the junction of your shoulder.

“Gonna make me cum, baby,” his words vibrated against skin tacky with a thin sheen of sweat.

”Want you to.” Your arms slung around his back, holding him close to you. “I’ve got an IUD, so you can— you can cum.”

His lips met yours as he came, with a pretty moan into your open mouth and slow, messy kisses that made you want to just melt into him and stay that way forever.

Spent, he rolled over and turned on a lamp at the bedside. The alarm clock announced the time in a dim red glow— five past one.

You lay there, damp between your thighs from the mixture of your releases, unsure of what to do. It was cold beneath the hotel AC. He was peering over at you, wearing an expression you were scared to dissect.

When his hand touched your arm, you nearly flinched. Your breath caught in your throat as he ran his thumb along your skin, so sweetly that you felt that same discomfort tug at your chest.

“C’mere,” he said, an offer. His arm was splayed over the pillows, giving you the perfect spot to lie down and press yourself against his side. To pretend like you belonged there.

But you didn’t belong there. You belonged four floors down with Patrick. That’s where you had belonged for four years. The reality of what you’d done had set in quickly, and you knew you needed to get out of Art’s room.

”Art,” you said softly, shaking your head. “I have to go.”

He nodded and sat up against the headboard. You watched him grab his boxers and pull them back on, a strange smile on his face. He must’ve sensed your confusion, even without you saying.

“It’s funny how things change,” he said. “Here I am, asking you to stay for once.”

You didn’t say anything as you picked up your clothes from around the room, redressing as you recovered each piece from its hiding spot around the room. Your shirt was unsalvageable, so you grabbed Art’s. He had plenty of brand sponsors that would jump to replace it, and Patrick wouldn’t recognize it.

“I loved you, I think,” he said suddenly. “Back in college.”

You froze, arms crossed over your chest as you looked at him. “Art—“

“No, I did. I loved you, I just did it all wrong.”

“Art, just stop,” you said firmly. Embarrassment hit you all at once— the guilt of what you’d done, and the shame over who you’d done it with. Your eyes stung as you looked at him. “Why the fuck would you say that?”

His lips twitched, dipping into a frown, then back into as close to a neutral expression as he could manage. “I just thought you should know. It’s only fair.”

You laughed mirthlessly. “Fair? Jesus Christ, you really haven’t changed, Art.”

His expression fell completely. It looked like it had back in the hotel bar— icy. “I haven’t changed? What’s that supposed to mean?”

You sighed as you looked at him. “It means that if this were Stanford, that would’ve made me crawl right back into bed, lay by your side, and daydream about what it could mean for us. If one day I might be Mrs. Art Donaldson. It means that you say these sweet things to me every time you can feel me slipping away, but they mean absolutely nothing. We’re not nineteen anymore, Art. I’m not leaving Patrick to be your plaything again.”

His jaw tensed, and he looked down at the bed briefly while he picked at loose threads on the sheets. “You think that’s what I want?”

You frowned. “I think you want what Patrick has.”

He scoffed. “Patrick doesn’t even want what he has,” he said, relishing in the wounded look on your face. “If he did, he wouldn’t be fucking my fiancée right now.”

Fiancée. You felt stupid for not knowing it, but you swallowed down your hurt and met his gaze. “I guess we’re both going to have to be content with being the second choice.” You slipped on your shoes and went for the door. “Good luck with your match tomorrow, Art. I sincerely hope that I never have to see you again.”

The hallway felt colder when you stepped outside of the room and shut the door firmly behind you. A very big part of you wanted to go back, to knock and apologize and grovel like you might have when you were a freshman.

Maybe you hadn’t grown up that much after all.

The elevator was playing Billy Joel. You leaned against the side of the elevator, relishing in the cold against your sticky skin. When the doors opened on your floor and you stepped out, you blinked in surprise.

Tashi stood in front of you for the first time since college, looking just as stunning as you remembered, probably more so. Her hair was pulled up, slightly damp at the ends. Her eyes flicked down to your shirt, Art’s shirt, you swallowed as an understanding passed between the two of you— wordless, because what was there to say at that point?

”You left your laptop in the hallway,” she said, skipping formalities. “I took it inside so it wouldn’t get stolen.”

“Okay,” you said, chewing on your lip. She stood there like she expected something more. You felt her surveying you, and froze as she reached forward and rubbed at your bottom lip.

“He could’ve at least cleaned you up a bit,” she said. Her fingers delicately fixed your hair, tucking it back into place. She wiped a smudge of lipstick from the side of your mouth. Once there was nothing left to fix, she looked at you one last time and nodded. “You should be fine now.”

Before you could process that, she stepped into the elevator, and you were left alone in the hallway. When you made it to the room, the door was cracked open, so you let yourself in.

Patrick was on the balcony smoking a cigarette, a towel slung low around his waist. The bed was a fucking wreck, not that he seemed to mind.

When the door clicked shut, he stubbed out the cigarette he was smoking and joined you back in the room.

“Are we going to talk about it?” He asked. His jaw tensed as he looked at you, like he was ready if you were going to start a fight.

“I just want to go to bed, Patrick,” you said, annoyed by how wobbly and pathetic you sounded.

He stepped forward and kissed your forehead. “Okay. We’ll go to bed.”

You kicked off your clothes, but left on Art’s hoodie. Patrick didn’t ask where it came from, or what happened to what you were wearing earlier. You knew he already knew, that he could tell the moment you walked in. He dropped the towel onto a heap on the floor, climbed into the bed, and held out his arms for you.

A stronger person would’ve told him to fuck off, but you weren’t a stronger person. You nestled into his side and felt the hot sting of tears in your eyes.

He rubbed your back soothingly and kissed your forehead. The sheets smelled like Tashi, he smelled like hotel soap, and you smelled like Art’s cologne.

“Do you want room service in the morning?” He asked softly.

“Patrick—“

“I’m serious. We can have breakfast in bed, do some tourist-y shit, maybe we’ll go watch a couple of matches, then come back and—“

“Are we supposed to just forget what happened?” You interrupted.

“I thought you didn’t want to talk about it.” He kissed your forehead, tender, sweet. “I’ll tell you everything if that’s what you want.”

You met his gaze. “Do you… do you want to know? About Art?”

He went quiet as he played with the ends of your hair. “Did it make you feel any better?” He finally asked.

“Yeah,” you said softly. “Then it didn’t.”

He kissed the crown of your head. “No?”

You shook your head, sighing softly as his kisses trailed down, over your nose, to the sides of your mouth. “No. It was a mistake.”

”Tell me about it,” he said, murmuring against your jaw. “Tell me how he touched you.”

You shivered, tilting your head to give him more access. Your nails scratched softly against his scalp as he sucked bruises onto your throat.

“He was desperate,” you said, heart hammering as you began recounting it to Patrick— your boyfriend. There was no world in which he should’ve wanted to hear about it… and yet. He moaned against your throat, encouraging you, wanting to know more. “Kissed me like he wanted to taste you in my mouth, like he wanted to overpower you.”

Patrick moved his lips to yours, kissing you with a sloppy brush of his tongue against yours. “Like that?”

You shook your head and leaned in, deepening the kiss with slow laps of your tongue into his mouth. He moaned softly, matching your pace in a way that was rare, but made butterflies dance around in your stomach. He pulled you on top of him— hands roaming from the backs of your thighs to squeeze your ass as he deepened the kiss. It was just as slow and sweet as before, but you could sense the need and hunger behind it.

You pulled back, just enough to remove your lips from his. Both of your breaths came in needy pants. You weren’t sure why you were enjoying this, but you were, so you kept going. “He took off my clothes, and laid me down on the bed.”

Patrick moaned, chasing your lips. You sat back and just looked at him— lying there with still-damp curls, his pupils blown with lust. His cock was hard, resting against his stomach, precum beading at the tip.

You pulled off Art’s hoodie and tossed it across the room, relishing in the way Patrick’s eyes raked over every bit of exposed skin like it was the first time he’d seen it. “He ate me out, made me cum on his fingers first, then again while he was inside of me,” Patrick’s breath caught, just for a moment. Desire, or jealousy, or both flickered across his gaze. “He fucked me like he wanted me to fall in love with him again.”

Patrick’s chest was heaving as you moved a hand between your bodies, grasping his cock in your hand, stroking slowly. “Is that how you fucked Tashi? Like you wanted her to pick you instead of her fiancé?” He moaned as your thumb ran over his slit, smearing the precum that had begun to dribble out.

“No,” He groaned. You nodded encouragingly, squeezing him tighter in your fist. “Fuck. I fucked her like I wanted her to know she made a mistake. Made her cum until she tapped out”

You ran a thumb over his bottom lip, tugging slightly. “With this pretty mouth, huh?” He nodded, wordlessly. “And with this?” You gave a slow stroke of his dick, making him buck up into your fist. Another nod.

“Show me.”

Patrick’s brows furrowed in disbelief. “Show you?”

You nodded and continued stroking him. “I told you about Art, so I want you to show me how you fucked Tashi.”

You recognized the fucking insanity of what you were asking, but you didn’t care. It was a strange form of closure— closing the circle, or whatever.

“Fuck, okay. Lay back,” he said, patting your thigh. You slid off his lap and settled atop the sheets, watching him expectantly.

His fingers hooked in the waistband of your panties, and he slid them down slowly. “Fuck.” Your cheeks flooded with heat as he held the sodden fabric up, wet and sticky with Art’s cum. He groaned and hooked your thighs over his shoulders. “That’s… god, that’s really fucking hot, baby.”

Oh. The mix of embarrassment and desire was something new— burning hot in the pit of your stomach as Patrick licked at your pussy, tasting the evidence of your arousal mingling with Art’s release. He moaned against you, holding you so tightly that his fingers dimpled your thighs.

His tongue lapped at your entrance, pushing into your cunt as deep as he could manage, then back to licking at your clit. It was messy— a combination of spit and cum and your juices.

“Fuck!” You cried out, tugging his hair as he sealed his lips around your clit. He moaned loudly against you, encouraging you to do it again, the fucking masochist.

He redoubled his efforts, pulling you closer, moaning against your cunt. It was like he wanted to devour you, to lick up every bit of Art that was left inside of you. You wanted him to try— you wanted him to replace every part of Art that was left in your body and soul.

“Patrick,” you gasped. He murmured an mhmm against your pussy. Eyes closed, right at home between your thighs, lost in the taste of you. “Need you inside.”

He planted one, two sloppy kisses to your clit before he pulled back, his lips shiny with your arousal. He wiped the mess away with the back of his hand, smirking down at you. “You need me, huh?”

You nodded, chest heaving with each panting breath. Patrick sat down at the headboard and patted his thigh. “Prove it.”

You sat up, crawling up the bed until you were straddling his lap. “You made her do all the work?”

He laughed, running his hands up your thighs to squeeze your ass, tug you closer. “I didn’t make her do anything.” Patrick had a hand wrapped around his cock, and you moaned softly as he guided it between your thighs to notch at your entrance.

You sank down slowly, forehead pressed against his as you took inch after inch. “Fuck,” you breathed. You leaned forward, brushing your lips against his as you gave a slow roll of your hips. “Fuck. You’re so deep, Pat. Feels so good.”

His head fell back against the headboard as you began to ride him in earnest. “Fuck, just like that,” he groaned, still wearing that fucking smirk, even balls deep inside of you. “That’s it, baby, take what you need.”

And you did. The way he was looking at him was proof enough, he was eating up every fucking second of you fucking yourself on him, using him like a toy.

Your noises were near-pornographic— Right there, fuck, you’re so big baby, so fucking deep.

The poor soul next door slammed on the wall, begging for you to just shut the fuck up. Patrick silenced you with a hungry kiss— a mess of tongues and spit. His fingers moved on your clit, pulling you towards the edge with desperate need.

“Close,” you gasped.

He nodded, moving his fingers faster. “I know you are. I’ve got you.”

You collapsed on top of him as you came— hips canting weakly as he worked you through it. He thrust up into your tight walls, groaning at the feeling of your cunt spasming around his cock.

“Fuck, you feel so perfect,” he groaned, burying his face into the junction of your throat. “Gonna cum— fuck—“

You moaned softly at the feeling of him spilling inside of you— the soft pulse of him, the warmth of his cum flooding your cunt. You stayed on his lap, kissing his freckled nose, his eyelids, his mouth.

When you finally moved off of him, you whimpered at that loss of fullness, and of the slick mess seeping out between your thighs. If you were smart, you would’ve gone and cleaned up, but there was nothing more you wanted than to lay there in Patrick’s arms and fall asleep.

Whatever. You’d leave housekeeping a very generous tip. He sighed contentedly as you lay there— like you were made to fit against him perfectly. A warm hand rubbed comforting circles on your back, and you felt so at home, even in an Atlanta hotel.

“I love you, you know that?” He asked.

You looked up and nodded. “I know. I love you too.”

You found yourself staring up over at Patrick with a stupid, persistent smile on your face. He turned to watch you watching him, wearing a matching grin on his face. It was hard to tell who started laughing first— you or Patrick. At the absurdity of it all, at yourselves.

“God, we’re so messed up,” you said, with another laugh.

He nodded. “Really messed up, but whatever. Apparently your brain isn’t even fully developed until you’re 25.”

“Great, so we have one more year until we’re normal, rational adults.” He laughed, holding you against his chest.

He reached over and kissed your forehead. You were so sticky and gross that you really needed a shower, but, again— it was a tomorrow problem.

It fell quiet, and you could feel yourself slipping into comfortable drowsiness when Patrick finally spoke up. “Are we going to be okay?”

You blinked slowly. With your hand resting on his chest, you could feel his heart thudding just beneath your palm.

When you were twenty, you met Patrick’s parents. Crowded into his childhood bed with your head resting against his chest, his heart pounded as he apologized for the intense grilling you’d received that night at dinner. It was the first time you ever felt like his bravado had been shaken, like you were seeing through to the core of him.

You always knew you would be the one to say you loved him first— it was just the way things went. “I don’t care if they like me,” you had assured him. “I love you.” His heart beat harder, faster. He didn’t say it back until two days later, when he was fucking you in that very same bed— forehead to yours, skin sticky with sweat. “I love you,” breathed into your mouth like air.

When you were twenty-two, you moved into an apartment in Manhattan and Patrick followed like a housecat— no rent, no job, just company and a mouth to feed. The tour wasn’t going well, and you were working for a shitty, clickbait news site that hardly covered the cost of your place.

Things were good, mostly. Comfortable, domestic. Patrick tried to be a good boyfriend, you tried to be a good girlfriend. Both of you were trying to figure out what that meant for the other as best as you could. Patrick would bring you flowers from the corner store and take you out for drinks and dancing on weekends. You’d drive out on holidays to visit his family and wind up leaving early to go back to the comforts and peace of your apartment.

When you could, you’d follow him out to tournaments. If he won, he’d take you out with the prize money. If he lost, you’d take him back to the hotel to cheer him up.

On rough days, one of you would come home to the apartment and pick a fight over laundry, or a dish left in the sink, or even what he’d left on TV, and the other would give it back tenfold. Your neighbors would beat on their walls in annoyance as you yelled at each other, until one of you slammed a door and sulked in another room for a few hours, or you had make-up sex that gave the neighbors another reason to bang on their walls.

The breakups were infrequent but severe. You’d kick Patrick out, he’d live out of his car, or in a motel, or fuck off to some tennis tournament that you’d previously promised to go to. One of you always broke first, returning to the other with promises of love, and to do better.

You did love each other, really. And things usually got better. It was just easy to live with your feelings dialed up to a ten where Patrick was involved: bigger good moments, worse bad ones.

Your career had vastly improved. Patrick had moved up in the rankings, only slightly, but it was something. You could afford a bigger apartment in a nicer area, maybe get a dog. And you didn’t just want those things alone, you wanted them with him.

You pressed a kiss to the center of his chest and nodded. “We’ll be fine,” you assured. It felt like the truth.

He nodded, looking down at you. His freckles were so much more pronounced after tournament after tournament in the blazing sun. “Yeah, probably.”

The next morning, you both got the continental breakfast you’d seen in the elevator while housekeeping dealt with the aftermath of the previous night. You did tourist-y shit— went to a museum, found a nice spot for lunch.

At the end of the day, you sat in the oppressive Atlanta heat with Patrick and watched Art Donaldson win his tennis match. You and Patrick left early, fucked in the backseat of his car, and decided to head home early.

As you started the drive back, you held his hand over the center console and listened to a shitty mix CD with songs he’d ripped off of LimeWire. You gave him shit when Kelly Clarkson followed Lil Wayne, but you both sang along to every fucking word.

You were right. You and Patrick would probably be fine.

#patrick zweig x reader #art donaldson fanfic #patrick zweig fanfic #art donaldson x reader #patrick zweig #art donaldson #challengers 2024 #challengers fanfic #challengers x reader #changeover au #my writing

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roosterforme · 2 days

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Covering the Classics Part 14 | Bob Floyd x OC

Summary: Once again, Anna can't seem to get what she wants from Kevin. Bob realizes she needs a break, and the last thing he wants to do is leave her alone. He convinces her to go somewhere he knows she will be safe.

Warnings: Angst, Kevin is a dick, bruises on Anna's arm, adult language, 18+

Length: 4900 words

Pairing: Robert "Bob" Floyd x Female OC (this story is part of the Beer Boy/Sugar and Jake/Jessica universe)

Covering the Classics masterlist. Check my masterlist for more!

Of course this would happen. On the day when Anna was supposed to meet Bob, one of her colleagues from the English department actually wanted to chat in the lounge. Dr. Lukas was usually quiet, but today he wanted to have an in depth conversation about Anna's Classics lecture and whether or not she would mind if he sat in.

"Please, stop by any time. I would love to get some feedback from you." If she was going to stay in San Diego and try for tenure, she may as well get friendly with someone who'd been at the university for longer than she'd been alive. When she finally excused herself to drop the stack of quizzes she printed in her office before heading to Chippy's, she felt a little sadder.

Would she be able to stay here indefinitely? Could she give up on her manuscript and get something just as fulfilling out of her job teaching here? She wanted to have both. Something about being with Bob and knowing he was falling for her made her feel like she could have both. Her manuscript and her job. The best thing about her old life and one of the best things about her new life in California.

Lost in thought as she took the elevator back up, she turned down the hallway to her office and almost screamed when her door came into view. She froze up, somehow unable to decide if fight or flight was her best option. But it didn't matter. He saw her. He was already walking her way. Once again, he had the upper hand in this scenario. Even when she tried to catch him off guard, he managed to surprise her just as much.

And now a truly devastating thought occurred to her. Kevin knew where she worked. He had taken it upon himself to figure that much out. But what if he knew more than that?

"Anna," he said with a smile as if he was greeting an old friend and not his estranged wife he spent years taking advantage of. "I've been waiting for you."

A chill ran down her spine as she tried to push her shoulders back to her tallest height, and she knew he could tell she was nervous. "Waiting for what, Kevin?"

"Well," he started blandly, "you thought it was okay to interrupt my work event, so I decided I would do the same."

Her stomach felt like it sank to her feet. She needed to find a way to send him packing before she could attempt to leave the building. "I actually have plans tonight, so..."

He laughed in response. "You mean the nerdy guy with glasses? Yeah, I already sent him packing. Your plans are with me now."

"What do you mean you sent him packing?" Did Bob try to stop by her office rather than waiting for her at Chippy's? When she took her phone from her pocket to text him, Kevin snatched it from her fingertips.

Anna was completely alone with him right now, and he was scowling down at her. "I said your plans are with me. I'll hold onto this if it's going to be a distraction for you."

When she crossed her arms over her chest, she could feel the tender bruises on her arm where he grabbed her at his conference. She shouldn't have gone there, and now she didn't know what to do. When Kevin pocketed her phone, she asked, "Would you like to sit in my office and talk?"

"No," he replied calmly. "I think we should go back to your apartment on Monroe Avenue to chat."

There was no use in denying the fact that he just named her street, so she didn't even try. "I think I'd rather chat here."

"And I think I'd rather chat about your manuscript somewhere more private," he snapped even though nobody was around. Then he pulled a USB drive from his pocket, and Anna wanted to lunge for it on his open palm. "We can discuss how you're going to split any profits with me."

Before she could even make a decision about reaching for it, Kevin's fingers closed around it again. He already knew where she lived, and if he actually had her writing with him, she needed to try to play by his rules. "Fine," she told him, trying to keep her voice from shaking. "But only if you give me back my phone."

He nodded once. "As soon as we get to my rental car which is parked a block and a half away."

She could make it that far. She kept her eyes on him as she unlocked her office door, dropped off her quizzes for the following day and locked up again behind her. Then she followed a few steps behind Kevin as he walked down the stairs, out of the building and along the sidewalk, not stopping until he got to a silver Lexus.

"Phone," Anna said, realizing that Bob was going to think she stood him up at this point. That idea made her more upset at the moment than anything Kevin could do to her. She held out her hand and Kevin placed it on her palm. She saw some missed calls from Bob, but she didn't want to piss Kevin off any further at the moment, so she dropped it into her bag.

When they were both inside the rental car on the very short drive to her place, Kevin said, "So, Anna, how do you like living in California?"

"It's better than New Jersey," she retorted immediately.

Kevin snorted. "What's the saying? A New Jersey eight is a California three? I'm surprised you got that poor guy to sleep with you. And I'm surprised you can go out in the sun here without getting a blistering sunburn all over your freckles."

Anna sat there quietly, counting her blessings. She really only had three of them. Friends, a job, and her own apartment. "Are you going to give me that USB drive?" she asked when they were close to her place.

"If you sign some paperwork for me. You seemed keen on waving some bullshit from your lawyer in my face yesterday, so I'm sure I can get you to take a look at what I brought with me."

She hated him and his tone of voice, but mostly she hated the idea of him inside her apartment with her. She took a deep breath as she eventually unlocked her door and let him follow her into her tiny studio.

"Nice place," he said, clearly mocking everything he saw.

"Is it any shock to you that this is all I can afford, Kevin?" she snapped.

"I guess my medical degree is worth more than your arts PhD, huh? God bless medical school."

"You paid for it with my dime," she hissed, barely in control of her emotions now. She could see a smile spreading across Kevin's lips, and she knew she desperately needed to get a grip.

"You were a pretty good wife in some respects," he said, laughing at the look on her face. "But now you've become a pain in my ass. And the little stunt you pulled yesterday at my conference was enough to make me want to find you and let you know how it's going to be from here on out. Okay, Anna?"

When she didn't respond, he pulled that little USB drive from his jacket pocket along with a single folded up piece of paper. He smoothed it out before handing it to her.

"Go ahead and sign that for me, and you can have what you want." That little bit of plastic was back on his palm, and she was almost afraid to take her eyes off of it to read the document. But when she did, she found it was drafted up by his lawyer. He wanted half of any money she made through her writing. The idea of it made her want to throw up.

"And what if I don't agree to this?" she whispered.

"Then I keep it. I don't personally need it as badly as you seem to, so I'd think about how generous I'm being if I were you."

"Why are you like this?" Anna nearly shouted. "Why?"

And that's when Kevin snapped. "You tried to intimidate me!" he hollered. "At my own conference! After my keynote introduction! Do you really think I'm going to let that fucking slide?" Her lips were quivering as she pressed them together, but he just continued. "You're such a bitch, Anna. And apparently someone called Alyssa after they saw you there! She thinks we're already in the process of getting divorced!"

"We could have been by now! But you won't let me go with what's mine!"

But Kevin just yelled over her, and Anna briefly wondered if her neighbors could hear them. "You like your new job? Teaching reading comprehension to adults? I hope you still like it when I do everything in my power to get you fired!"

Tears filled her eyes, and her ears were ringing from his voice. When her apartment door flew open and hit the wall, she thought she had imagined it. But even her imagination couldn't perfectly conjure up Bob Floyd in his Dungeons & Dragons shirt and jeans, cheeks red with anger while his blue eyes flashed behind his glasses.

He was on Kevin immediately, taking him by surprise. Anna fleetingly took note of Kevin's shocked expression before Bob slammed him into the wall next to her bed. She gasped as Bob's forearm met Kevin's neck. "Don't yell at her," he said in that voice she loved so much. But he was gruff and angry right now, and Anna's heart pounded erratically as he added, "You don't get to yell at her like that."

"Who the hell do you think you are?" Kevin grunted, but Bob had him pinned firmly in place. "You're just some guy she's fucking."

Anna wanted to vanish into thin air. The way Kevin tried to make her sound disgusting in front of Bob made her skin crawl with shame. But all Bob did was glance back at her and calmly ask, "Are you okay?"

When she nodded, he turned back to Kevin and pushed him a little harder against the wall, and that's when Anna jumped to action. "Don't hurt him, Bob. Please, just let him go." She was shaking, terrified that after months and months, Bob would get himself in trouble over her. "He's not worth it."

When Bob loosened his hold, he stood firmly in place just inches in front of Kevin with his back to Anna. She had never felt protected like this in her life. Kevin pointed at her over Bob's shoulder and barked, "The deal is off the table."

"Just leave!" she begged, hands shaking relentlessly now. She needed him to go. She really needed both of them to go so she could have a panic attack in peace.

Kevin shoved past Bob and headed for the door, and Bob locked it behind him. Then he turned to look at her, and she had nowhere to go as she sank down onto the floor next to her mattress and started to cry. Bob was there in an instant, and Anna was too tired to fight it when he collected her into his arms. She crawled into his lap, wrapped her arms around his neck and just cried until she was done. His hands were firm and solid against her back, and then he whispered, "Are you sure you're okay?"

She nodded against his neck, inhaling his clean scent. "It's my fault he knows where I work. It's my fault he knows where I live," she hiccupped. "I shouldn't have tested him like I did."

He just hummed and rubbed her back, his fingers tangling in her long hair. "Nothing Kevin decides to do is anyone's fault but his own. Now let's get you out of here."

Anna pulled away from him and swiped at the tears on her cheeks as she asked, "What do you mean? Where am I supposed to go?" She gestured around her tiny living space, but Bob's eyes remained on her face. "This is where I live."

"I'm not leaving you here," he whispered softly. "If he knows where you live and where you work, I don't think you should be here or on campus alone."

"He's mostly harmless," she insisted softly.

Bob just looked sad as he sighed and started to stand. "He was screaming at you, Anna. And I don't like that. Will you please come with me?"

He was holding out his hand as she looked up at him. "Where?"

"My house. You can stay with me."

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

Bob watched as Anna collected some of her things. She looked so flustered, shoving clothing, toiletries and her computer into a backpack and a tote bag. She handed them to him and walked around her little apartment in a bit of a daze.

"I'll bring the food from my fridge for my lunch and some quarters for the laundromat," she muttered before chewing on her lip. Bob reached out and took her gently by the hand as she tried to walk past him, and she looked up at him with wide brown eyes.

"Anna, I have plenty of food. And a washer and dryer."

She took a few deep breaths and said, "But I can't just use all of your stuff. I can take care of myself."

"I know you can," he replied immediately. "But you need a break. My house is quiet. There are books and groceries. You can do your laundry. Let's go."

This time she nodded and let him lead her toward the door, but Bob accidentally kicked something across the floor and looked down to find a white USB drive hit the wall next to her bed. "Oh my god," she gasped, releasing his hand and lunging for it. She was kneeling and looking up at him as she whispered, "Kevin dropped it."

Bob's brow furrowed. "What's it from?"

She looked so hopeful now as she stood. "I think it might have my manuscript on it."

"Oh," Bob said in surprise. "Let's get out of here and check it." Anna's hand was back in his the whole way down the stairs, and when he held the door open for her, he pulled her a little closer. "What kind of car was he driving?"

"It was a silver Lexus sedan," she told him, and Bob started looking around at all of the parked cars. "I really don't think he would hang around. I'm telling you, he's an asshole, but he's harmless."

Bob wasn't going to risk it, even though Anna seemed excited now. He opened the passenger side door of his truck and helped her climb in before setting her bags at her feet. Then he walked to the end of the block, looking everywhere for something that could be Kevin's car. When he finally climbed into his truck and started the engine, he drove a slightly convoluted route back to his place, watching for any flash of silver paint.

"Thanks for looking out for me," Anna said softly as he pulled up to the curb in front of his house. "Even after everything."

He wanted to tell her that he would take care of everything if she would let him, but he didn't want to let his feelings overwhelm either of them. "You don't have to thank me for anything. Let's get inside and I'll make dinner while you check that USB drive."

Bob was thankful that Suzanne's door was closed, otherwise he would have had to explain to her why Anna was holding his hand and carrying her overnight bags. As soon as they were in his living room, he made sure his door was locked up tight while she scrambled to get her computer out. She sank down onto the couch and inserted the USB drive, glancing up at him with hopeful eyes. Then her face went expressionless when she looked at the screen.

"It's blank." That didn't sound surprising at all to Bob, and he sighed in relief as she said, "I thought this might be the case." She pushed her computer onto the couch cushion and stood saying, "Will you let me make dinner for you?"

He laughed softly and shook his head. "I already told you that you need a break." He plucked a collection of poems by Emily Dickinson from the top of his book shelf and handed it to her. "Read this. I'll tell you when it's ready."

"Thanks," she whispered, accepting the book from him.

Bob left her in the living room, making a mental list of things he needed to take care of as he peeled some carrots and preheated the oven to cook some chicken breasts. It would only take him a minute to make up the futon in the extra bedroom. He would pack two lunches for tomorrow instead of one. He also needed to call Jessica.

He wished he had something fancier to send Anna to work with, but he did have everything he needed to make sandwiches and fruit salads, and he had some packs of salted peanuts and cans of ginger ale. Once the chicken was in the oven, he slipped out the back door onto his patio, glancing at the street behind him for a silver Lexus while he called Jessica.

"I know, I know," she said when she answered. "I was supposed to send you the notes from D&D, but Jake took me out to dinner. We're on the way home now. I'll send it before bed."

"Hey," he replied. "No, I actually need to ask you to do something else."

"Anything," she replied easily, and Bob was so thankful for his friends.

"If you agree to do it, I need you to not ask a lot of questions at the moment."

"Sure," she told him so casually, his heart literally swelled.

"Anna is staying here with me for a while. Can you pick her up in the mornings on your way to work? I can get her after I leave base in the afternoon, but since you're heading into the city anyway-"

"Yeah. No problem. I can get her around 8:30 or 8:40," she told him. If she was surprised by his request, she didn't show it.

"Thank you, Jess," he said. He added, "I haven't given up," before he ended the call. He made an additional mental note that he needed to pull the weeds in Suzanne's vegetable garden, and then he headed back inside.

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

Somewhere in the romantic throes of Emily Dickinson, Anna passed out on Bob's couch. She woke up with the book tucked under her chin and his kind face in front of hers. His eyes were so sincere as he said, "Dinner is on the table, and I got the extra bedroom ready."

"Okay," she said as she sat up, still in a daze over everything that happened today. She was proud of herself for not getting her hopes up about what was on the USB drive, but it still hurt to know Kevin was such an ass after all this time. Then as soon as she sat down with Bob and took one bite of the magic carrots he cooked, her brain turned to complete mush. "Oh my god." She took two more big bites, practically moaning over the taste of a hot meal, and she hadn't even gotten to the chicken yet.

"It's nothing fancy, but it's getting late, and I can tell you're tired," he said as he cut up his food.

"Bob," she whispered, looking at him in awe. "This tastes like you went to culinary school."

He blushed bright pink, and Anna desperately tried not to think about how rosy his cheeks had been after he made her orgasm twice. "I'm glad you like it," he muttered, taking a bite and then clearing his throat. "I hope you don't mind, but I called Jess and asked if she could pick you up on her way to campus tomorrow. I would take you myself, but it would add at least 45 minutes to my ride to base in rush hour traffic, and I don't want you waiting for a bus alone."

Anna almost dropped her fork. She couldn't remember the last time someone looked out for her wellbeing like this, because it had never happened before. "Thanks," she whispered. She didn't know how many times she could say that word to him, but she meant it each time she did. And once again he was acting like what he was doing was simply part of his normal existence. Like he helped poor, hungry college professors all the time. Before she bit into the chicken, she asked what had been on her mind earlier. "Why did you come to my apartment anyway?"

He was blushing again as he adjusted his glasses and fumbled his fork. "Uh, well I was running early, so I stopped by your office. Kevin was there, jiggling the doorknob, trying to see if you were inside. He told me he was going to take you back to New Jersey so he could keep track of you."

"Like hell he is!" she snapped. "I'm not going anywhere with him!"

Bob scratched the back of his neck and said, "Yeah, well, as soon as I walked away to see if you were actually already at Chippy's, I just got a weird feeling. When I couldn't find you, I drove to your place. Kevin really rubbed me the wrong way."

The perfect man was sitting across from her, and Anna had to just sit there and eat her delicious chicken while she tried to process things. But then Bob asked, "Why was he there anyway?"

Anna looked up at him like a deer caught in headlights. She knew she needed to be honest with him if she ever had a hope or a prayer, so she said, "I may have figured out he's at a huge conference in Carlsbad until next week. And I may have gone up there and tried to get him to sign over my manuscript."

"Are you serious?" he asked, looking at her like she had two heads. "Anna. You went alone?" She nodded and he said, "I know you think he's harmless, but he looked up your workplace and your address. He tracked you down."

"Yeah," she said softly. "But I tracked him down first."

He sighed deeply. "The difference between you and him is that you wouldn't do anything maliciously but he would. Promise me you won't do something like that again."

The fact that he was worried about her was enough to make her agree, because if Bob Floyd cared about her, then she owed it to him. But also Kevin really got under her skin with his demanding behavior. She knew now that going up to Carlsbad was a bad idea, but she wanted to keep fighting as long as she could. She owed that to herself.

"Let me clean up," she said, standing once she had eaten every speck of food on her plate, but Bob was already shaking his head.

"I'm just going to dump everything in the sink and deal with it tomorrow. Why don't you go up and take a hot shower? You can use anything you find in my bathroom."

Anna wanted to argue with him, but there was such a bone deep ache inside her, and she knew a steamy shower would help alleviate it so she could try to sleep. Once again she thanked him, and once again he told her he didn't mind one bit.

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

Bob ended up not only washing all of the dishes and pans but wiping down the entire kitchen, too. Just knowing that Anna was in his shower was making his skin tingle. He thought about being in there with her, but it turned into something more than a sexual need. He just wanted to protect her, kiss the freckles on her shoulders and tell her she could stay here as long as she wanted to. If she simply never left, she could read all of his books and recommend more and more.

With a soft groan, he dragged himself up the stairs once he heard her turn the shower off. He made it to the landing in front of the bathroom door just as she walked out. "You have amazing water pressure," she told him with a little smile. "The shower in my apartment is a tiny stall with terrible water pressure."

Bob wanted to reply, but all he could do was stare at her. She was wearing a tank top and some worn flannel pants, and her damp hair was freshly combed. The sweet smelling steam wafted out, hitting him in the face as he realized that the deep red shade of Anna's wet hair was absolutely, indisputably his favorite color. He never wanted her to go back to her tiny apartment. She didn't even have a real kitchen there. Her bed was on the floor.

Anna cleared her throat and said, "I hope you don't mind, but I made a little spot for some of my stuff on your bathroom counter. You can move it if you want."

"It's fine," he muttered, once again wanting things he shouldn't. But now that he knew exactly how awful Kevin was, it was going to be impossible not to dream that maybe someday Anna would be free. Maybe she'd choose him.

"Okay," she whispered, jerking her thumb toward his extra bedroom. "I'll just get in bed then."

"What?" Bob asked as she took a step away from him. "No, you can sleep in my bed. I'll sleep on the futon." It might kill him to think about her laying on his pillow, tangled up in his sheets, but his bed would be much more comfortable.

"I can't do that," she told him, taking another step. "Not after everything you've done for me."

Before she could make it through the doorway, Bob hooked his arm around her waist and pulled her toward his bedroom. "I insist."

"Bob," she said with a little laugh that melted away into a needier voice as she went along with him. "I'm only going to sleep in your bed if you're there, too."

Fuck. He wanted it so badly, he was automatically nodding in agreement. Anna's lips parted softly, and she sucked in a breath. He steered her toward the bed, and that's when he saw it. He grunted, his steps coming to a halt as he ducked his chin down a little bit so she met his gaze.

"Why is your arm bruised?"

Her lips were pressed in a thin line as she looked up at him wordlessly. Just when he thought she wasn't going to respond, she whispered, "He never did anything like it before, but he grabbed me pretty hard yesterday. I... made him really mad."

"He has no right," Bob growled. "I don't care what you did to him, he should have kept his hands off you."

"But my manuscript is so important to me, and I want it back."

"Anna," he said, cupping her soft cheek in his hand. "Your manuscript isn't worth more than you."

Her eyes fluttered closed, and she nodded. Her long lashes were still resting on her cheeks as she whispered, "I'm ready for bed."

Bob's heart was skipping around in his chest as he kissed her forehead. "Go ahead and climb in. I'll be right there."

He watched as she pulled back the bedding and slipped in between the sheets. After he grabbed some gym shorts and a clean undershirt, he ducked out of the room and into the bathroom. Anna's pink toothbrush and her purple comb were next to the sink. There was some face wash and toothpaste and a bag of makeup. He had to take a minute to pull himself together. He needed to be able to share a bed with her in approximately five minutes.

He brushed his teeth and did all of the necessities before changing into what he was planning on wearing to sleep. He was trying his best to keep his feelings at bay, but it felt like he had I LOVE ANNA written across his forehead when he slipped back into his bedroom. She was clearly emotionally exhausted, but she looked spectacular laying there waiting for him.

When he paused in the doorway, she lifted up the covers on his side of the bed, and Bob carefully folded up his glasses before climbing in next to her. He flicked off the lamp on his nightstand. Neither of them said a word, but when his hand bumped hers beneath the covers, he felt her lace their fingers together. And a few minutes later, Anna was curled up along his side, sound asleep.

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

This whole week is a whirlwind for Anna, but at least ending up in Bob's bed when it's time to go to sleep is a high point. Kevin must be destroyed. Thanks @beyondthesefourwalls

@thedroneranger

@theamuz

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#bob floyd x oc #robert bob floyd x oc #bob floyd #robert bob floyd #bob floyd imagine #bob floyd fic #bob floyd fanfiction #robert floyd imagine #robert floyd fanfiction #robert floyd #robert floyd fic #robert floyd x oc #top gun imagine #top gun maverick imagine #top gun fanfiction #top gun maverick fanfiction #roosterforme #covering the classics

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dduane · 3 days

Note

Is there an alphabet or lexicon of the human version of The Speech? And if so, where can I find it?

No, there's not.

(And as I've been asked about this before, I'm just going to paste the answer in here—since though the original post is buried in the depths of Tumblr somewhere, I do have my saved draft.)

Per these, which came in very close to each other:

@melbetweenstars

This is something I’ve always wondered but never realized I could actually ask about until I read through that long meta response. (go me.) How much of the Speech do you have fleshed out? Do you create it as you go on more of a need-to-know basis, or do you have vocabulary and grammar structures ready to go? Basically I’d be really interested to hear any Speech-related meta if you have the chance because fictional languages are hella cool!

and:

@sansa–clegane

I just read your post on dark wizards and field terminologies, and am totally loving the Speech translations you provided! Now I’m wondering, though, how much of the language you actually have mapped out or established? I’m very curious as to what, for example, the standard “I - you - he/she/it/etc. - we - you plural - they” conjugation endings would be– or if there even are any in a language as complex as the Speech. I’M JUST REALLY INTERESTED IN FANTASY LINGUISTICS AAAHH

Linguistics is a big deal for me too, as people who read my stuff will have guessed. And needless to say, the Speech is on my mind a lot (along with other “magical languages” and their history/histories).

So let’s take a moment to first to make it clear what the Speech is not. It’s not what’s sometimes referred to as an Adamic language (whether you take the meaning that God used it to talk to Adam, or that Adam invented it to name things.) It’s also nothing whatsoever to do with Enochian. It’s not an occultic language, or anything invented by human beings.

The basic concept is that the Speech is the language, or the very large body of descriptors, used to create the universe (and very likely others, but let’s leave that to one side for the moment). Such words are also assumed, having been used in the building of the universe, to be able to control the bits they’ve built. Every word, therefore, when used ought ideally to sound as if it contains some tremendous power.

Writing something like that every time the Speech is used, even for a much better writer than I am, would be very, very hard.

(We need a cut here. Under the cut: Ursula Le Guin, C. S. Lewis, J.R.R. Tolkien, J. K. Rowling, and others. ...Also a fair number of beetles. And a bear.)

It’s worth mentioning as a matter of information that I met the concept of secret / divine magical languages in Le Guin’s Earthsea long before I ran into it in C. S. Lewis. (I came pretty late to Lewis’s non-Narnian work.) Yet here Lewis, as more than occasionally before, is my master, having been over this ground right back in the mid-1940s.

There’s a point in the final novel of the so-called “Planetary Trilogy”, that big fat (now endlessly problematic but still fun-in-the-right-moods) book That Hideous Strength, where Elwin Ransom—philologist, unwilling visitor to Mars and Venus, unnerved conscript into the wars in Heaven, and Lewis’s take on both the Pendragon and the wounded Fisher King—is instructing his friend and co-linguistics scholar Dimble on how to behave in a meeting with the newly awakened, and potentially quite dangerous, Merlin Ambrosius. (The POV in this passage is that of a lady named Jane who's just recently fallen into company with the group supporting Ransom.)

“You understand, Dimble? Your revolver in your hand, a prayer on your lips, your mind fixed on Maleldil [just think “Christ” for the moment: surprise surprise, that’s the parellel Lewis is using here]. Then, if he stands, conjure him.” “What shall I say in the Great Tongue?” “Say that you come in the name of God and all angels and in the power of the planets from one who sits today in the seat of the Pendragon, and command him to come with you. Say it now.” And Dimble, who had been sitting with his face drawn, and rather white, between the white faces of the two women, and his eyes on the table, raised his head, and great syllables of words that sounded like castles came out of his mouth. Jane felt her heart leap and quiver at them. Everything else in the room, seemed to have become intensely quiet: even the bird, and the bear***, and the cat, were still, staring at the speaker. The voice did not sound like Dimble’s own: it was as if the words spoke themselves through him from some strong place at a distance—or as if they were not words at all but present operations of God, the planets, and the Pendragon. For this was the language spoken before the Fall and beyond the Moon, and the meanings were not given to the syllables by chance, or skill, or long tradition, but truly inherent in them as the shape of the great Sun is inherent in the little waterdrop. This was Language herself, as she first sprang at Maleldil’s bidding out of the molten quicksilver of the star called Mercury on Earth, but Viritrilbia in Deep Heaven.

Now if that’s not like being hit over the head with a hammer, I don’t know what is.* That moment has been before the eyes-of-my-mind for a long time as I’ve worked with the Speech.

Note, however, that Lewis does a very wise thing here. He doesn’t actually spell out any of the words out for you. Because in the reader’s mind, there’s always the six-year-old saying, “Go on, say the word: see how it sounds, see what happens…!” And when you recite the magic spell, it doesn’t work. The words come out sounding, well, like any others. And maybe not your interior six-year-old, but your interior twelve- or fifteen-year-old—the ego-state that’s about keeping you from getting hurt or looking stupid in front of other people who aren’t privy to or supportive of your dreams—says, “See, it was just another word, just a bunch of nonsense. You got fooled. Dummy!” No wise writer, I think, willingly sets their readership up for such easy and constant disappointment. It's tough enough to weave, and hold in place, the spell that is prose. Handing the audience a potential spellbreaker, over and over again, is folly.

And by rights the Speech ought to be like Lewis’s example above. If in reality you were to hear the words used to restructure matter or undo gravity, they ought to shake the air in your chest like a Saturn V launch, they should raise the hair on the back of your neck to hear them used; they should freak you out. But a long string of invented syllables isn’t going to do that. I’m stuck with using English to produce even the echo of such a result.

Which means I have to go Lewis’s route… mostly. Here and there I’ll add in a Speech-sourced word or phrase when it supports the narrative or makes it easier for characters to talk about what’s going on—as, when working with wizardry, you do sometimes have to call in precisionist-level language for words that have no casual English cognates: just as you would if you were working in particle physics or organic chemistry at the molecular level. But that’s all I’m going to do… because if you do too much linguistic work in this regard, you constantly run the risk of your readers being distracted from the real business at hand, which is the interactions between/among the characters.

The tech inherent to a work of fantastic fiction is always an issue in this regard. Ideally L. Sprague de Camp’s very useful definition of science fiction, tweaked here for fantasy, ought to be a guideline: “A fantasy story is a human story with a human problem and a human solution that could never have happened without its fantastic content.” Yet inside the definition, there’s still a lot of ways to go wrong. Too much merely human stuff, and a work of fantasy turns into a soap with some casual magical gimmickry—all too often these days labeled as “magic realism”, when it’s not publisher code for “We’d call this fantasy if we had the nerve and we didn’t think it was going to tag us as ‘genre’ and keep us off the best-seller lists”. Too little human-problem-and-human-solution, and it turns into a modern version of what James Blish (God rest him), when writing as the gently merciless science fiction critic William Atheling Jr., used to call “The 'Greater New York and New Jersey Municipal Zeppelin Gas Works’ school of speculative fiction”, where you tour your readership through the Wonderfulness Of Your Tech (magical or otherwise) until they expire of boredom while waiting for someone to fucking do something.

You have to find a centerline between the extremes—indeed pretty much a tightrope—and walk it with some care. I’d guess that J. K. Rowling ran into the need for this balancing act; while never having read the Potter books, I nonetheless get a sense that you get the occasional Wingardium leviosa without also being burdened with long strings of magical Latin. (Though I confess that the answer to the question “Where does the magic come from? And what’s it for?” as it applies to her universe could be of some interest. I have no idea whether this ever gets explicitly handled.**)

Anyway, it’d be way too easy for the YW books to become long discourses on the Speech and its use. This aspect of the “tech”, I think, gets more than enough time onstage. Having once established that words are a tool, indeed the tool for a wizard, the ur-Tool, making every spell they build a resonance between what they do and the initial/ongoing work of Creation—my business is to stay focused on the challenge of driving plot forward by interactions between human beings (and all kinds of others) who have conflicting agendas.

…So much for the tl;dr. I do have some very basic grammatical structures tucked away, but they’re not in any fit state for other people to look at. The Speech, I think, is really best treated as an ongoing mystery that unfolds a little at a time, as required, and leaves everybody wanting more.

HTH!

*It also leads into one of numerous affectionate nods in this book toward Tolkien, as philologist, fellow novelist, and Lewis’s good friend. It's no accident that when Ransom meets up with Merlin himself, a little later in the narrative, the question of this language—the proper name of the Great Tongue is “Old Solar"—comes up again. When discussing what language they’ll speak with each other during their upcoming negotiations [they apparently start out in a rather beat-up and denatured medieval Latin], Ransom says to Merlin about the language he’d prefer to be working in, "It has been long since it was heard. Not even in Numinor was it heard in the streets.”

The Stranger gave no start … but he spoke with a new interest. “Your masters let you play with dangerous toys,” he said. “Tell me, slave, what is Numinor?” “The true West,” said Ransom. “Well,” said the other.

Yeah, “well.” Better scholars than I have dealt with the relationship between these two, as scholars and writers and friends, so enough of that for the moment. But it’s very sweet to see Lewis do something in his books that I’ve done with mine.

**It’s always possible, of course, that in the HP universe this issue is a surd: like asking “where physics comes from”. (Well, not a surd precisely, if your spiritual life tends a certain way. Mine tends toward “Whoever or whatever made the universe, that’s who made physics. And they must really like it, because they made a metric shit ton of it!” (This answer also works for beetles, though that's a slightly different issue.) :)

But if there’s a most-fundamental difference between my wizardly universe and Rowling’s, it might be best revealed in the third question that came up for me directly after “What if there was a user’s manual for human beings/the world/the universe?” and “If there was, where would it have come from?”: specifically, “And why?”

***There's a bear in the Pendragon's kitchen. Thoth only knows what initially brought that on for Lewis, but it's a character insertion that pays off later, so (shrug) wtf.

#Young Wizards meta #Young Wizards #Ursula Le Guin #C. S. Lewis #J. R. R. Tolkien #the Speech #wizardry #errantry

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boopshoops · 2 days

Text

I've... never really ever been to somethin' as fancy as this before. Oh? You want to dance? ...Pfff, sure. Why not?

Set to home screen: Aight, let's get going.

Home Transition 1: You should've seen how excited Neige was to see Vil here too. But the more I hear about Vil... really makes me wish Neige would take the hint. Don't get me wrong, Neige is sweet as candy, I know, but it's obvious Vil needs some space.

Home Transition 2: I feel like if I make one wrong step, people are gonna look at me like I'm crazy or something. I'm not used to all this etiquette. Welp, not like that's anything new anyway. Let's go have some fun.

Home Transition 3: Yuu's been... huh? Haaa, I swear to Sevens, one moment I think she's missing forever and at the next she's doing whatever the fuck she wants. Just get that cat-thing to distract her for a bit, I'll be over soon enough.

Home Transition 4: If I see one more pinch of glitter getting anywhere near my face, it's on sight. Seriously, I'm gonna be finding this shit everywhere for the rest of my life.

Home, after login: The more time I spent trying to get this whole outfit sorted out, the more I felt conflicted about RSA being invited to this party... but now that I'm here, it's not so bad.

Tap Home 1: I kept having to try on all these uncomfortable dresses before we FINALLY landed on something that suited me. Pants are so much more comfortable anyway. "Who's we?" Ah. Yuu and Neige helped me out a bit.

Tap Home 2: ...Pfff, I've watched Chenya sneak up on like, five different people now. It gets funnier every time. What a dork. That short red head looks so mad-

Tap Home 3: I...uh... think I might've saw someone crying when I came in. Should I... tell someone? I feel bad just leaving 'em be.

Tap Home 4: Hey, look, if you think you're struggling with dancing along, you can come stand on my feet. I know how to lead with this kinda thing... I mean, if you wanna. Not that you're doing bad, I- fuck. You know what I mean.

Tap Home 5: ...You've been hiding under my cape for a good while now. I know it's all shiny and big and whatnot. But do you need something? I'm sure there are other places you could go. Oh? Nah. You're not botherin' me. I just thought you might be getting bored.

Groovification: Hahaha! You shoulda seen their faces when I finally started dancing. Let's out-prince these princes....... man that sounded cheesy. Pfff-

Tap Home Groovy: Whew... I think I'm gonna take a break outside for a bit. Maybe explore NRC campus while I have the chance. Crowley always gets on my case when I sneak in here with the cat boy.

Home Transition Groovy: Ya know, I'd be down to do something like this again. Maybe with more casual clothes, but still. I liked seeing all the shocked looks on peoples faces when they see I actually know how to work this kinda look.

Art tags!!! 🫂💕

@thehollowwriter @skriblee-ksk @distant-velleity @justm3di0cr3 @kitwasnothere

@lowcallyfruity @techno-danger @scint1llat3 @cecilebutcher

The lovely fan event is by @starry-night-rose !!! 💕

#boopshoopsoc #twisted wonderland #twst oc #twst #oc #disney twst #original character #oc art #twst wonderland #jocia gains #glimmering soirée #digital doodle #digital drawing #digital art #artists on tumblr #artblr #character art #twst original character #original character art

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moon-river-me · 3 days

Note

hey i saw you're open to requests!

What about a hotch x reader fic where he's reunited with an old friend on a case and he gets all flirty and flustered? No angst, happy ending if poss 👀

Aaron Hotchner x lawyer!reader

sfw, reuniting, fem reader <3 no haley or jack mentioned and no specific season

Eyes meet across the room. Warmth fills his gut. He knows those eyes, he memorized those eyes, he loved those eyes.

“Aaron?” your voice still sounded the same, like honey and warmth, like the soft and lulling pitter patter of rain on a spring’s night. Just how he remembered.

You made a B-line for him, at a determined speed. That’s another thing he remembered about you, so determined. Throughout all of law school you both would compete, for anything and everything, you almost always won.

“It’s really you, huh?” looking at him with so much admiration he needed to break the contact. “So, what’s a hotshot FBI agent doing here? Come back to beat the score.” You jest, hitting his elbow with your own. The score was something sacred back in your university days. It was a tally between you two, one that would update every time one of you got a higher grade, an award, a commendation, or stayed sober the longest, the last one was always biased. He fondly remembered nights of drunken giggles and takeout while watching badly written court tv shows on your thrifted couch.

“Oh no, those days are long gone. Any more tequila and my liver will go into failure.” A ghost of a smile paints his lips.

“I still get flashbacks after a mere whiff of the thing.” Your laughing sounding more of an amused snort, not caring who saw you. That was something Aaron always loved liked about you, not once in the entire time he knew you did you ever care about how others viewed you. You were so uniquely you that he truly believes if another you appeared one day, the earth would stop spinning.

Emily and Morgan walked up behind him; he could see their smirks through the back of his head. “Hotch, I didn’t take you for a tequila connoisseur,” Derek was in view now, offering his hand to you, “Derek Morgan.”

“y/n l/n,” you state as you shake, “and you should have seen him in our second year of law, god I thought I was going to have to drag him to emergent care some nights.” Your words were embarrassing, but your eyes were filled to the brim with joyfulness, you make eye contact once again and it is as if the world stops. “But of course I was no better so I would be a hypocrite to say anymore.” You grin, your lip getting a slight tug from your teeth. Aaron felt himself blush as his brain began to create images of that lip, and those teeth, and that smile, and oh those beautiful eyes.

You noticed the change in his demeanor, you always had. Except this time, your eyes twinkled in victory. “So, what do you guys need?” you turn you head towards Emily, although your gaze is stuck like honey to Aarons eyes.

“We were told that you were the prosecutor for the case we are working on. We came to discuss some things about the trial.”

“Oh of course, let me just grab the file. One second.” You turned to walk to your office; it was just principle that Aaron followed you, no other reason. “Come on agent Hotchner, the file isn’t going to find itself, I need your expert profiling skills to uncover it.” You laugh as you reach your office. Aaron looked at his very amused coworkers and felt the flush of his cheeks get 2 shades darker.

“I don’t know who she is or if they have a history, but he followed her like a dog.” Morgan states, a belly laugh following as he finishes his senses.

Emily observed you through the glass, your head thrown back in laughter, and Hotch’s eyes staring at you with something that could only describe as a child on Christmas morning.

“He is whipped.”

A/N

short and sweet but trust me I will start doing longer ones.

requests are still open, please give feedback.

ik it's not the best but I hope you like it.

#criminal minds #bau team #criminal minds fandom #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner is my husband #girlblogging #i love making grumpy men babygirl #emily prentiss #derek morgan #short story #my fic #fluff #aaron hotchner fluff

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shoyudon · 2 days

Text

DON'T STICK YOUR HAND UP THE VENDING MACHINE .ᐟ

starring. toji fushiguro x fem! reader

heads up. cursing

note. I DON'T KNOW WHY THIS CAME UP TO ME SO SUDDENLY? BUT IT DID AND IT WOULD BE SO SAD IF I DIDN'T WRITE IT SKJDKJSK

VENDING MACHINE MAINTENANCE! TOJI who received a call from the mall he works in because apparently someone's arm got stuck inside a vending machine right in the basement parking before he was going to go home from a long day.

VENDING MACHINE MAINTENANCE! TOJI who saw you sitting down on the floor in front of the vending machine, your head leaning on it — he could hear a string of curses escaping from your mouth as you moved your arm a bit. frankly, he finds it pretty funny that you were owning up to the consequences of your own actions.

"has nobody told you that y'r not supposed to put your hand up the vending machine?" toji mutters, almost satisfied.

you rolled your eyes, "just get me out of this."

VENDING MACHINE MAINTENANCE! TOJI who had to endure at least the next fifteen minutes of you complaining about the same vending machine that you got stuck in, from the start of the alphabet till' the end.

"this thing ate my money, there's no way 'm leaving without my drink. stupid vending machine," you muttered out — toji trying his best to get your arm out without trying to possibly hurt you. honestly, he could care less about you getting hurt; he just didn't want his paycheck to be cut for your medication bills.

VENDING MACHINE MAINTENANCE! TOJI who finally got your arm out after half an hour, and got your drink out for you to shut you up from more complaints. it was a can of cold black coffee, which was what you needed after a twelve hours shift.

"thanks," you tell him — shoving the can of coffee inside your bag, "uh . . . do i need to pay for getting my arm out or should i just like . . . leave?"

he scoffs, "leave."

VENDING MACHINE MAINTENANCE! TOJI who only got back to his apartment two hours later than usual because you decided it was the best time to get your arm stuck in the vending machine over ¥120 (approximately $0.77).

VENDING MACHINE MAINTENANCE! TOJI who got a glass of boba from your workplace the next day because you felt bad he had to waste his time helping you after you got stuck. in your defense, you didn't want to waste your money.

"uh, i don't know if you like boba — i made it less sugar since you don't seem like the type to eat a lot of sugar, you know?" you pointed at his build, "but thanks for helping me last night."

VENDING MACHINE MAINTENANCE! TOJI who begrudgingly accepted your drink and scoffed when he tasted it, 'less sugar' he thought taking another sip, biting onto the chewy boba coated with brown sugar liquid.

you were right about one thing, how he doesn't really like consuming too much sugar. despite the drink being 'less sugar' he still thought there was too much sugar — and despite that, he still managed to finish a whole glass of it, even chewing the last bit of ice.

VENDING MACHINE MAINTENANCE! TOJI who actually saw you in your workplace when he was called to fix a vending machine inside the mall. taking in a customer's order, looking really stressed when more customers decided to pop in. huffing, he decided to stop by just to mess with you.

"so . . . what's the best thing y'got in here?" he mutters.

you look at him, eyes narrowed. but this was him, the vending machine maintenance as your customer, "brown sugar boba, fresh milk red bean matcha boba, red bean mochi fresh milk," you explained, pointing to every picture on the menu you just mentioned.

VENDING MACHINE MAINTENANCE! TOJI who decided it was best to mess with you even more, bringing back his complaint about the drink you made him this morning.

"red bean mochi fresh milk, less sugar." toji underlines, taking out his wallet — even if he didn't want to buy a glass of sugar after drinking one earlier this morning.

"that will be ¥320 (approximately $2.07), please."

he huffs, "people pay that much for a glass of sugar?" and then he slid a couple of bills towards you.

"you're paying that much for sugar, you're one to say," you retort back, opening the cash register to return back his change and a small paper of his bill.

"one star for bad service," he muttered, grabbing back his change.

VENDING MACHINE MAINTENANCE! TOJI who for some reason, gets the most random call from inside the mall asking for the vending machine to be fixed. maybe because he doesn't fix them whole-heartedly just so he could mess with you by ordering the most outrageous drinks — at first it started out as little mocking smiles, and gestures.

but he felt as if that wasn't enough, so he decided to take a step further by messing with you on your job, urging you to make the smallest mistakes.

"brown sugar boba, with ten percent of brown sugar liquid. and five percent of sugar. if it's too sweet, i want my money back," he grunted. he meant to tease you — but the way he said it made him sound so serious that you were nervous about messing up his order.

even if he did say that he would return it every single time, he never really does.

VENDING MACHINE MAINTENANCE! TOJI who saw a customer complaint over something you didn't make — and he couldn't really do anything except watch. it wasn't like he was about to risk his own job by creating a scene in a boba shop. he sipped away on his order, which in his opinion was still too sweet, but he said nothing.

"i asked for no sugar, why is this still so sweet?" a man complains, raising up his royal milk tea with boba; which toji could see is half-empty. hell, the man's still chewing on his boba as he speaks.

"i apologize sir, but even our base milk tea powders are still a bit sweet, that's where the sweetness is coming from," you explained, looking at him apologetically, "would you like me to do anything for you, sir?"

the man grunted, "no, it's just disappointing," he muttered out, shooting you a dirty look before turning to leave the shop — toji eyed the male but said nothing. he was glad his work didn't require him to communicate with people besides getting a call to fix a machine.

VENDING MACHINE MAINTENANCE! TOJI who actually stopped messing with you and just drops by to order his drinks because he noticed how stressed you look at that man's complaint. he just didn't want to be the reason why you get fired.

"brown sugar boba, make it less sweet," he muttered — shoving his hand down into his pocket to grab the exact change he needed to pay.

VENDING MACHINE MAINTENANCE! TOJI who actually took a two weeks break from buying your boba because he was actually afraid he'd get diabetes from the huge amount of sugar he was consuming in such a short amount of time.

and you seek for his appearance — which never happened, until he decided to come back while you were sitting down on the floor, shoving your face into the instant ramen you bought from the convenience store this morning before your shift.

"oh! it's you, you came back!" you put the cup on top of the counter and wiped your hands, walking towards the cashier.

VENDING MACHINE MAINTENANCE! TOJI who spent most of his time in the boba shop until he's called somewhere else. he'd usually spend his hours inside the maintenance staff room on the secluded part of the mall, but now? he wastes his time inside a small boba shop in the middle of the mall; even if he said nothing or you were too busy to talk to him.

he still stayed because he likes it there, even without you both talking. he didn't feel as lonely as the hours spent inside the staff room alone.

VENDING MACHINE MAINTENANCE! TOJI who actually enjoyed it when you strike conversations with him during the peaceful flow of the boba shop, asking the most random questions from his zodiac sign to his favorite soda flavor, or his favorite way to eat eggs.

"i like sunny side ups, they're good," you tell him, wiping the sweat that was forming on your forehead — the both of you ended up talking about your schedules and shifts of work, which you both find out how the both of you mostly have 12 hours shifts.

VENDING MACHINE MAINTENANCE! TOJI who actually found you stranded after a shift because you missed the last bus, and he ended up giving you a ride on his old motorcycle. he's never really had a human backpack behind him on his motorcycle, so he didn't really care about speeding — at least until you told him to slow down a bit because it was a bit scary.

"thanks for the ride, toji. i owe you another one, how about a drink tomorrow? just make sure to drop by, 'ts on the house!" you gave him a thumbs up, giving back the only helmet that he made you use.

VENDING MACHINE MAINTENANCE! TOJI who actually came back to your shop the very next day to get that free drink of his from you — and this time, you managed to make it just right. not too sweet, he could get used to that.

"i like this one, 'ts not too sweet," he comments, raising up the glass of boba drink, "why couldn't ya' make me one like this since the beginning when i asked for less sugar?" he asked you.

"because that's my own recipe. 'ts not on the menu, but i'm still paying for it, y'know?" you raised your brows, eyeing him from inside the bar, "i wanna open my own boba shop in the future, it's fun."

VENDING MACHINE MAINTENANCE! TOJI who actually became your personal driver because he was the one who asked you to. even if you declined at first since you didn't want to burden him — but he actually insisted, surprising.

"don't care, we're goin' the same direction anyways," he handed you a helmet (that he actually rummaged through the garage through for, washed it, and dried it just for you), "the bus' full of weirdos at night."

VENDING MACHINE MAINTENANCE! TOJI who managed to get close to you in the next few months; he never did expect it, him getting close to a girl, but he was actually kind of glad he did get close to you.

"hey toji, eat lunch with me. i'm on break right now!" you peeked inside the maintenance staff room where he sat, a water bottle in his grasp. he'd usually decline, hell, he even declined his co-workers— but you? he could only sigh and gave out a curt nod, "look what i got."

toji hated everyone. but when you came into his world, he could make exceptions.

VENDING MACHINE MAINTENANCE! TOJI who hated it when he feels his heart flutter, he doesn't like the way his stomach churns every time he sees you do anything or see you in general. the way he craves for more of your smile, your laugh, everything about you. it made him feel uneasy— especially when he's never felt all that before.

it was a strange feeling to him, and he didn't like it. toji's never one for relationships, love, and all that. he doesn't know how to do it, he was afraid he'd end up hurting you instead. maybe, maybe that's why he decided to put some distance between the both of you.

VENDING MACHINE MAINTENANCE! TOJI who always fixes vending machines inside the mall the right way, making sure he doesn't have to go back in and see your face. as much as he wanted to, he didn't want to see you and feel the fluttering all over again when he's tried so hard to stop it (which wasn't working, by the way).

VENDING MACHINE MAINTENANCE! TOJI who tries not to spend time inside the maintenance staff room because he knew you'd always try to come see him there during times when he wasn't idling by your work place. he felt bad every time his co-worker told him that you came by looking for him.

"hey fushiguro, i forgot to tell you, the boba girl was looking for you again this afternoon," his co-worker informed, putting on his jacket, ready to leave.

VENDING MACHINE MAINTENANCE! TOJI who kept this on for at least the next three months. everywhere you were, he turns away and walk the other way making sure the both of you won't bump into each other. don't think you didn't notice his act though, noticing how he stopped replying to your messages, how he doesn't come up to meet you in your work place anymore, or how he walks by your shop like he doesn't know you every time he was asked to fix a machine inside the shop.

you wondered if you did something that might made him mad at you — but no matter what, you just couldn't figure out what. and if he wasn't willing to talk to you, hell, even spare a glance at you, how were you going to find out.

VENDING MACHINE MAINTENANCE! TOJI who grumbled under his breath when he got a call right as he was about to clock out of work. begrudgingly walking down towards the basement where the vending machine was; god, people just had to ruin his day.

opening the basement door, there he saw you— sitting on the ground with an arm stuck inside the vending machine. a case of deja vu, this was exactly like how you both met.

VENDING MACHINE MAINTENANCE! TOJI who was silent while he was working out on your arm, wondering why in the hell would you try to reach up for a drink even after the first time you got yourself stuck. but he said nothing anyways. you did.

"are you gonna talk to me now?" you ask him while he was trying to free your arm, "i wasted my money to get my arm stuck and you're still not willing to talk to me?"

he almost scoffed, you did this on purpose, "so you did this on purpose?"

"no, i had a purpose. why're you ignoring me like we don't know each other? tell me what i did wrong so i can fix it," you mutter out angrily, crossing an arm across your chest, "you just ghosted me, why?"

VENDING MACHINE MAINTENANCE! TOJI who didn't think it mattered a lot to you — but seeing to this extent you'd go, he could only shut his mouth. letting his hand do the freeing.

"so, you're just gonna act like we're strangers? 'kay, fine by me then," you reply, deciding to shut up for the rest of the procedure, waiting for him to free your arm.

VENDING MACHINE MAINTENANCE! TOJI who decided it was the best timing to confess to you, who had one arm up stuck inside a vending machine. all because he just wanted to get rid of the burden on his mind about you.

"listen, i get this feelin' every time i'm near you. and i don't fuckin' like it, makes me feel all warm and soft. i fuckin' hate it. i don't hate you, jus' don't get the wrong idea or shit." he muttered, pulling your arm out from the machine — packing his stuff up to leave.

VENDING MACHINE MAINTENANCE! TOJI who got stopped by you when he was about to leave for the night.

"'s that a confession or what? if you're going to confess, the least you could do is do it right. that was lame," you tell him, holding onto the hem of his shirt, "do it all over, with nicer words, and a nicer tone."

VENDING MACHINE MAINTENANCE! TOJI who shook his head, not wanting to repeat his moment of vulnerability to the first person he was most vulnerable most. toji hated being so weak in front of people, especially you.

"no, who said 't was a confession anyways?" he questions, obviously a lie, looking at you with a raised brow.

you let go of his shirt and waved your hand, "fine then, let's not speak anymore since you want it to be that way," he stares at your back in confusion as you try to walk away out of the basement, "goodbye," you mutter out, a bit of hope that he'd stop you.

which he did, and you breathe out in relief, "'ts late, the last bus left already. i'll drop you at home," he murmurs out, scratching his nape.

VENDING MACHINE MAINTENANCE! TOJI who handed you the same helmet you usually wore, never getting rid of it in the first place. bringing you home for the first time after three months — nobody spoke a word to each other, and it was definitely awkward. hopping off his bike, you returned back the helmet to him and began walking back towards your house.

"hey," he calls out to you.

VENDING MACHINE MAINTENANCE! TOJI who sucked up his ego and confessed to you in a "nicer" way and tone like you told him to. and he of course, managed to butcher it up again.

"i don't fuckin' hate you. i just tolerate you more than i tolerate other people," he retorts. seeing the unimpressed look on your face made him think twice, "okay. i like you, just— bye," and then he left just like that without trying to hear your reply.

VENDING MACHINE MAINTENANCE! TOJI who didn't expect a glass of boba on his staff room with a small note, and he knew it was from you.

'i like you too, why did you leave last night?'

because he was scared you'd reject him, that's why. but now that you made it clear that you weren't going to reject him, he was more relaxed. but the thought of meeting you face to face after last night made him nervous all over.

VENDING MACHINE MAINTENANCE! TOJI who was actually surprised when you weren't as awkward as he is upon meeting him after last night. peeking your head inside the staff room like the usual — he turned to look and there you were already jumping onto him.

"hey! why did you leave so fast last night? i didn't even get to answer you yet," he grumbled under his breath when you brought it up yet again.

"because i was afraid y're gonna reject me, happy?" he asks, "but you didn't so 'm not afraid anymore, i guess."

"what does this make us?" you replied back playfully, nudging his bicep with your elbow, "hm? hm?"

"friends," he teased, his face flat.

"hey!"

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