#Sorry if any other fics are a bit delayed with that in mind. Other Things To Write(tm) call!

[valeriefauxnom]

You know, the more I read about Narcissistic Personality Disorder, the more I become curious if the writers were actually using it as a guideline for Emile's character and plot involving him. Yes, yes, it's not particularly unique to create a selfish character nor one that has a comically grandiose perception of themselves, nor do are these traits comprehensive to what NPD is, but let me explain, because BOY the dude is a checklist.

As always, long post.

First, let's break out the good ole DSMV. It may not be perfect, but hey. It's what I've got to work with for Official Sources to escape pop psychology sites. Here's the diagnostic criteria for NPD:

How does Emile stack up?

1: He immediately establishes a sense of identity that he believes he is more great than a Greatwyrm.

2: Much of his actions in the main campaign are born from a desire to live out his dreams of power, fame, and recognition.

3: *Gestures vaguely at 98.4% of what Emile says in Dragalia lost* He often refers to others with derogatory names, especially those that reinforce the status differences between them. Honestly, his vocabulary regarding this is rather impressive. Ingrate, peasant, dreck, peon, clod...

4: Here's where I might start to suspect the writers were doing more than just writing an egotistical character. NPD is defined in part by the excessive need for admiration and reinforcement (more on that later). Emile occasionally voices sentiments like above. See also this quote in his Gala story, in which, despite being in desperate need for money, ultimately personally valued the praise he got from the customer more. He's always been a character desperate for positive response.

5: A bit hard to distinguish from some of the standard entitlement royalty does get, but...yeeaaah. Emile is very much entitled in a way that Leonidas, who also expects absolute obedience of subordinates to his orders, isn't. He seems to believe that everyone automatically, no matter who they are, will immediately acquiesce to his will without question, without having any basis for their subservience. Take how he expects, -despite knowing that nobody recognizes him as Emperor at the moment, -a street artist to give up tools of his trade simply because he demands it.

6: Again, quite a large chunk of his motives in the main campaign is exploitive behavior of others. He lies to make Mercury believe her home is in danger and that he can stop it, then establishes he views a pactbound dragon as a slave to his will. Chelle agrees to lend him her androids, and he immediately absconds with the remote she 'accidentally' left lying out to serve his own needs.

Even smaller things in chapter 4, like his demand for Euden to escort him to the summit, is taking advantage of Euden's sense of justice and fairness to ensure he can undergo Jupiter's trial (which he thinks he will win). Take his scheme to foster love for him once he yoinks the throne while everyone else is gone is manipulative. He creates a 'bandit problem' and then sets up scenarios to swoop in to save the day. People see through this one, but it's still manipulative.

7: *Gestures vaguely at Emile again* Emile is...lacking in empathy or consideration for others' lives. I feel like this is pretty self-explanatory.

8: We can see this even in the comics. His first appearence in them checks off several of the traits we've already discussed and adds in 'assumes others are jealous of him' to the book. But even sticking to 'pure' canon, Emile is long, long established that jealousy of his elder siblings in particular is a driving factor regarding his behavior. There's many examples for this, but I'll keep it short since I already used an excuse to drag out the comic.

9: *Gestures vaguely at Emile yet again* Honestly I'm not even going to add any pictures for this point. I think when even your NPC unit description claims you as 'haughty' it's an established character trait.

That's NINE out of nine traits, when FIVE is the requirement for a potential diagnosis. Key word being potential, because we place more requirements on a diagnosis than just matching some features.

But I'd like to go a bit deeper into it. It's one thing to constantly drag out all the moments of Emile being Emile, but digging into the whys of it all also is compelling to me and this argument.

Here's another small exert of the DSMV:

Though hinted at in chapter 4, we gradually came to know more and more about the deeper side and reasons behind Emile's behavior. The long and short of it was: he's jealous. He knows he's inferior, deep, deep down. And we've one connecting factor for what flipped the switch to the degree of behavior he spirals into in canon: Euden. Emile spells it out early himself.

From what we know of their relationship before canon, Euden seemed to be the adoring sibling eager to learn whatever Emile deigned to teach him and was generally subservient as he was to all his siblings. He, unintentionally, fed Emile's ego at being able to instruct an inferior, feeding that need for affirmation. Thus, when canon rolls around, Emile is gravely wounded (emotionally), by Euden's betrayal of 'stepping outside his place'. He's the pillar that's allowed Emile to raise himself so high, and now that he's moved, Emile falls.

In that same conversation, Emile explicitly cites the 'degradation' Euden is putting him through, and thus enters another long-lasting characteristic of NPD. Enter his rage.

Among all his other motivations for appreciation, Emile cultivated quite a potent desire to harm Euden in particular. Several times he expresses a desire or tries to kill him with his 'own two hands', but I think the Persona crossover event is a goldmine for demonstrating the extent of how enamored he is with thoughts of violence regarding Euden in particular after his 'offense'.

He doesn't just want to kill Euden. He wants to short drop hang him (ie, the non-instantaneous kind that leaves you suffocating, though who knows if they even know the 'break the neck instantly' variety either, to be fair). He wants to break him mentally and quite possibly physically, judging by how quick he is to call in Shadows to beat him. Somehow, I'd speculate just by the sheer pleasure he takes specifically in seeing Euden in despair and misery (he should take notes from Ciella) it'd be a quick jump to actual torture if Euden hadn't immediately been busted out as planned.

Why? Again: though his elder siblings left Emile feeling unappreciated and inferior, Euden is the one to have raised him up before dropping him. It's personal. Therein is his fragile self-esteem, so dependent on the one he viewed as inferior.

All this culminates to a surprisingly replete picture of what NPD actually looks like. It's not just base selfishness or some excess ego, but a incredibly strong and persistent pattern of this kind of behavior, all in fulfillment of a need to acquire adoration. It's the fury that can follow the broken self esteem when that adoration isn't given. It's the vengeful fantasies of harming those who wronged him, the lower empathy for others occasionally paving the way for acts of violence.

Somehow, Emile is still compelling (to myself included), despite him being much of what people loathe in the real world. He's bombastic and dynamic in a way that his more emotionally-composed siblings aren't, and that lends him well to comedy in its own way. It doesn't hurt that he's like. Probably the 2nd most common of the royal fam to pop up, after Euden. He's the Saturday morning cartoon villain who is the lowest on the totem pole of threats and thus safe to have a laugh at until he rolls 20 and starts causing very real danger.

That aside, I threw together this for a more light-hearted thing regarding Emile:

Edit: I remembered Zardin. I think it's kinda funny how Emile is a "better", more complete representation of a narcissist is and does than the supposed actual narcissist himself. I think it's a case of Emile being the 'technical' one while Zardin is a 'literary' one. Aside from being obsessed with his looks just as OG Narcissus was, he's... not really displaying many traits that I can recall from him. Still interesting.

[profoundbondfanfic]

Hey I have been looking for Dark Dean and Castiel fics where Dean is OBSESSED with Castiel do you have any recommendations?

Hey hey! Sorry for the delay, but I hope these recs are welcomed now just in time for Halloween.

A bit of a warning though -- some of these fics get really dark and involve very intense subjects so pls mind the tags before reading these.

all that’s sacred comes from youth by fullvoid (Mature, 8k words)

Teenage Dean has a dark, possessive streak he hides well. But when he and Cas agree to get married at age 35 if neither of them has by then, he finds he can't quite just leave it at that and spends years stalking Cas from the shadows and sabotaging every relationship he starts. Or Dean, in love with his best friend Cas and obsessed with a pact they made when they were 17 years old, gets rid of his boyfriends one by one through escalating means.

Between Love and Agony by Duckyboos (Explicit, 53k words)

Dean Winchester is in love. Like, bonafide heart eyes and deep sighs, hung-the-moon love. There's just one problem: the lucky guy is his husband's identical twin, Castiel. The two of them have been having a kinky affair for years, burrowing under each other’s skin and setting up camp. Which is why, after Castiel goes missing, Dean’s about ready to tear the world apart looking for him. When Castiel eventually returns to him, he’s been through literal hell, managing to drag himself out, bloody and raw, for Dean. Together, they discover a way to make Castiel whole again — though the price will be gruesome… and there will certainly be hell to pay.

CONventional Psychopathy 'Verse by Mayalaen (Explicit, 441k words)

Castiel Novak is a Cleaner. One of the agency's best. He and his Handler, Dean Winchester, have a high success rate in a world where the worst criminals aren't imprisoned for their crimes, but instead are captured by licensed serial killers who dispose of them, doing what they do best while getting paid for it. Cas doesn't form attachments, doesn't leave himself open for a risk like that, but Dean wormed his way into Cas' life and into his house. Does Dean realize what falling in love with a serial killer really means?

Do Anything For You by ImYourHoneyBee (Explicit, 7k words)

“How’re you feeling?” his earlier worry and fear have faded into the background because of how freaking good Jimmy looks right now, but that’s the thing to ask. Besides, even if he was planning on killing him soon, propriety has to be observed. Dean has a reputation to uphold as a fine, upstanding citizen in this city. Patrick Bateman wishes he was as smooth as Dean is. “Better than the guy who hit me,” Jimmy tells him with uncharacteristic bluntness, nodding toward the curtained-off bed, “I overheard the doctors saying he flatlined around the same time I did.” “Oh shit,” Dean says, glancing over to try and mask the sick roil that sets up shop in his stomach. “He make it?” The ghost of a smile plays over Jimmy’s chapped lips, “He’s in a better place now.” x The one where Cas's soul takes over Jimmy's body.

Free to Be You and Me by jhoom (Explicit, 49k words) --- This says incomplete but it's a satisfying ending so we think the author just didn't close it out.

Dean lost his parents in a fire when he was younger, and he’s never been the same since. Based on the prompt: "I was ten years old when I witnessed the murder of my entire family. The police told me that the person I saw commit the crime was a figment of my imagination - a result of the trauma - but I couldn’t let it rest. In a strange way, they saved me - with everyone else gone I might have gone to pieces, but I HAD to find the killer, so I held it together, I got through school, I rose through the ranks of detective, and now finally, finally, I’m on their trail. I have to find them. I have to meet them. I have to tell them that I love them."

Hello Night by almaasi (Explicit, 11k words)

Demon!Dean/Priest!Cas AU. Castiel summons Dean to the crossroads, and he only wants one thing: him.

Make Me by saltnhalo (Explicit, 4k words)

A beautiful man on a motorbike shows up at Castiel's business with a t-shirt that says Make me and a smirk that could put the devil to shame. How is Castiel possibly meant to resist?

Monsters by Miss_Lv (Explicit, 11k words)

Castiel prayed to God, to help them, to save them. God never answered. But Dean did. It was the monster who saved Castiel, not God.

Seven Heavenly Virtues by Strixes (Explicit, 108k words)

The Mark of Cain turns Dean into a demon once more. Dean is adamant that this time he's found a way to keep the mark under control but it's clear to Castiel that Dean needs help if he's going to fight the mark's influence until they can find a way to get rid of it. More than anything Castiel wants to save him, but if anyone needs to be saved it's Castiel as he tries to navigate where Dean ends and the Mark of Cain begins.

The Prodigal Bond by vipjuly (Explicit, 68k words)

In exchange for conjugal visits, Dean Winchester gives FBI Supervisory Special Agent Castiel Novak all the dirt he needs to bring down national crime rings. It's a tit-for-tat situation; primal, animalistic, and probably ten kinds of illegal. When a case is revealed to be closer to Castiel than what he considers safe, he and Dean must work together to make sure that Crowley goes down for good. Will Castiel be able to keep Dean at arm's length, or will the charming convict finally get what he's been asking for all along? What lengths will Castiel go to... at Dean's behest?

These Violent Delights by SomethingBlue42, xfancyfranart (Explicit, 43k words)

Dean Winchester, war vet and functioning alcoholic with a life that’s going nowhere, takes a job at Baltimore Hospital for the Criminally Insane. Dean had never heard of Dr. Castiel Novak notorious serial killer and cannibal given he’d been dodging bullets and performing field triage during Novak’s sensational trial. Seasoned orderly Rufus lays out the rules: Do not touch the glass. Do not approach the glass. You pass him nothing but soft paper - no pencils, no pens. Use the sliding food carrier only, no exceptions. If he attempts to pass you anything, do not accept it. And most importantly: don't tell him anything personal. But Dean was never much for following the rules and Castiel has a way of making Dean feel like he isn’t the grade-a loser his hot-shot FBI agent brother thinks he is. Then, a senator’s daughter goes missing, setting forth a chain of events that put Dean on a path that forces him to choose where his loyalties lie and just how far he’s willing to walk into the dark.

This Tainted Love You've Given by LazarusRose, xfancyfranart (Explicit, 17k words)

Everyone has their hobbies—Dean’s just happens to involve a lot more blood and screaming than most people’s. And sure, maybe murder isn’t the nicest way to blow off steam, but Dean’s always thought that being nice is overrated anyway. His latest victim, a pretty guy with startling blue eyes, should be nothing special, just another nameless body on Dean’s list. But then, after Dean kills and buries him, he turns back up at Dean’s house again the next day. What’s a guy to do when they’ve accidentally gotten an immortal witch convinced that they’ve got some kind of profound bond?

Happy Halloween!!👻🎃

[noodyl-blasstal]

Neverwinter Castle - Ch1

Beep beep, it's @blupjeansweek!

I've done my usual trick and decided to try and write 7 chapters of a fic using the prompts. Today is "animal."

You can read chapter one below or on Ao3.

-

“Hey, Barold, have you got the bat broom?”

“They’re back?” Barry stands, trying not to groan as he levers himself up from his usual pre-opening leaning spot at the well worn counter. Not that Lup would tease him, well, much, but he’s always been self conscious about how creaky he feels next to her. Maybe he needs to get her to make good on the pilates threats.

“Who says they ever left?”

Barry groans. “Do you want to do it, or should I?”

“I’ll do it, I know you hate bothering them.”

“They’re not hurting anyone! They just, uh, you know, hang out, mind their business.”

“Causing the customers to come and complain to me about it…” Lup raises her eyebrows expectantly.

Barry hands over the broom with the small black plastic wings taped just above the brush part. He can empathise.

“Tell them I’m…”

“...Sorry, natch, cha’girl wouldn’t dream of forgetting Barold. The bats won't get you in the uprising.”

“If you apologise for yourself they might let you live too!” Barry shouts as she leaves.

Lup salutes him in the doorway, her laughter drifting back to him on the summer breeze. He's thankful for it, laugh and breeze, amusing Lup always feels like an achievement, and the air has been stale in the shop the last few days.

He really does hope the bats let her live. Things have been so much better since the summer staff returned.

–

“They took it pretty well.” Lup knocks the latch free and flips up the flap of the counter top with the handle of the broom. It’s painfully cool. Barry just knows in his bones that he’d get splinters trying. “I think I even heard one click out “we don’t blame Barry for this even a little bit” as it left.”

Barry shakes his head but can’t help grinning. “That’s uh, reassuring. Anyway, are you all ready? It’s 10, so I’d better open the gates.” Barry slips out from behind the counter, but waits on Lup’s answer. He can delay if the team needs a few more minutes.

“We’re good to go, Magnus is with the sandpit, cha’girl’s on stories and objects with Taako back up, and he and Ren are in the Cafe.”

“Great, Merle’s in the greenhouse, I bumped into him earlier.”

–

“Welcome one and all to Neverwinter Castle….” Barry taps the button that opens the gate and plays the creaking sound effect (there was no way it actually creaked, his regular maintenance schedule made sure of that) and taps the microphone button again. “... where we bring the past to you.”

No matter how many times he says it, there’s still a small bubble of pride. When he saw the announcement that they were selling off the site there was no way he could let it pass him by. He’d spent so many summers working here and seen so many opportunities, it had been his chance. Sure, John hadn’t been able to make it work, but that was because all he wanted out of it was profit. He’d told Barry early on that it was silly to pour any of himself into the job, that it was inevitable that eventually the money would dry up, people would stop coming, and capitalism would grind on. Barry nodded, ignored him, and resented him as the other staff dimmed throughout each summer, light sucked out of them by the time they left. Well, until the twins came. Things got better when the twins came.

Barry presses the button to open the portcullis at the front of the castle when he sees the first guests approaching on the monitor, sticking to the flagstone path, thankfully. Magnus’ sturdy fencing had really helped, Barry scribbles down a quick note to thank him again. “By visiting us today you’re helping us preserve the past and educate our future. Thank you, you’re making a difference.”

Barry moves back from the microphone and leaves his office. It’s up to them now. He’d learned from experience that the intro talk wouldn’t work if it was too long. On his first test run the speech had been full of puns, references, and fun facts. He’d heard Lup yelling ‘neeeerrrrd’ through the open window. This new version suited people better, they could pick up maps and check out the information boards and stands inside.

Barry was on shop duty this morning, so he cleaned the counter one more time, partly plated up the testers (no sense in letting them go stale, the first visitors would take a while to get round here), and grabbed the toy guillotine and a carrot from the fridge. He may as well make the entertainment display a way of preparing the crudites to test the harissa dip. It wasn’t period authentic, but it was delicious, locally made, and sold well which is all he could really ask for.

The shop was based in an outbuilding, off the gardens at the rear of the castle. The window gave him a great view of the cherry trees, undulating topiaries (he didn’t ask about the shape and hoped Merle wouldn’t tell him), and his favourite of all, Lup’s shows. She won't be gearing up for another hour yet, but he’s already looking forward to it. She definitely had the strigil and the tersorium for the artefact guessing game today and the reactions of delight and horror at the gross-ness were always fun to hear.

–

“...and what do you think this was for?” Lup held up the curved piece of metal, it dangled casually from her hand.

“It’s a primitive pickaxe, probably Neverwintian in origin, I’d date it to...”

Barry rolled his eyes and tuned the man out. He hated it when they got parents like this - the know it alls who thought it was important to be loudly correct in front of the children at the activity for under 15s. The regularity of their wrong-ness did not escape him.

“That’s not correct, Sir, and that’s not how pickaxes are shaped.”

Barry waits to see if Lup will stop Angus, he’s one of their frequent fliers, his Grandfather bought the summer pass each year and Angus certainly got his money’s worth. Barry is pleased when she doesn’t quiet him.

Angus continues, emboldened by Lup’s lack of action. “In fact, Sir, you didn’t actually have to answer, because this is an activity for young children like myself, but I’m not going to answer because I know what it is, I’ve been here before.”

“Thank you Angus, it’s good of you not to spoil it for our fantastic guessers.” Lup doesn’t even bother to try and comfort whoever it was that fell foul of Angus. They’ll survive the ego bruising no doubt, hopefully it’ll make them think a bit more in future. “So, what do you think everybody?”

A few guesses are shouted out. They’re incorrect, but at least they’re from children.

“That’s a really good thought, but it’s not quite right. How about I do a demonstration? I start here, and pull.”

“It helps you put your jumper on!” An excitable child yells.

“Ooooh, that’s a guess I haven’t heard before!” Lup manages to sound delighted about this fact. “And it might a little bit, we’ll see what you think once we find out, but this is a strigil. Will you all say it with me?”

The children say the word.

“What was that? I couldn’t hear you.”

Barry rolls his eyes as the yelling resonates around the shop. He swears she does it because she knows how bad the echo is.

“That’s it! You’ve got it. This was what people from all over Faerun used to take a sort-of-bath. To use it they’d apply oil, and then use this to scrape off the dirt and sweat.”

“Ew, gross!” mixes with “Cool!”

Barry stands up a bit straighter as he hears the tell tale footsteps of guests approaching on the path. He tries to put on his best customer service face even though he could use a quieter day today, he has plans to make.

–

“Davenport! Nice to see you.” Barry smiles as he enters the shop.

“I was hoping I’d run into you!” Davenport smiles brightly back. “It’s good to be back! I always love what Merle does with the gardens.”

Barry had initially been terrified of the short, dapper man when he’d suggested they met to discuss Barry’s proposal that Starbright Tours included Neverwinter Castle on their rotation. It faded fast once he realised that Davenport was just as serious about quality educational content as him. Davenport’s enthusiasm for Barry’s well-researched proposal had gone a long way to endearing the man to him.

“No Kravitz today?” Barry asks, it’s always nice to run into the tour guide. Barry had offered Kravitz some initial materials when Davenport put them in touch, but the costuming, accents, and enthusiasm Kravitz brought to the tours were all his own. During the test tour he shadowed Barry had immediately understood why Davenport had hired Kravitz.

“Of course Kravitz is here today, I don’t suppose you can guess where he is.”

Barry laughed. “Cafe?”

“However did you know?” Davenport shakes his head and turns his attention to the selection of naval history books.

“I wonder when those two will get it together?” Barry asks absently.

“I could ask you the same question, Dr Bluejeans.” Davenport didn’t make eye contact, all of his attention focused on the book he’d plucked from the display.

It made it easy for Barry to ignore it. But he’d been ignoring it too long. This year things would be different. He’d promised himself that.

Neverwinter Castle: End of Season, 2024

“Hey, Bear.” Lup hopped up onto the counter, leaning her elbow on the ancient till and resting her head on her hand.

“Uh, yeah?”

She looked at Barry a little quizzically, doing some kind of calculation in her head, then grinned, seemingly settled on a course of action. “You know I’d say yes, right?”

“What?”

“If you asked me out. I’d say yes. Maybe you’ll do it next summer? Cha’girl’s looking forward to finding out.”

Barry’s brain had never been this quiet before. The thousands of thoughts flitting in every direction at all times dropped out of the metaphorical sky and gave him the silence they’d always promised meditation could bring. He hated it. “Uh… I… Er…”

“Like I said, next summer. I’ll send you postcards like usual.”

She does. He gets one at least every week, emails too. She doesn’t mention it again. He doesn’t either, he doesn’t know how to. Telling Lup he’s in love with her, that he’s been in love with her for longer than even he’s known, that he thinks she might be the point on which his world turns? That’s one of those moments that marks a change. Just like the day John accepted his offer for the castle. Just like the day he got the last phone call from his Mother. This was important, he knew that, and he owed it to himself and to Lup to make sure this was good, to make sure it was right.

But this was the summer, he was sure of it.

-

I hope you had a goodfun time! Want to read more? Find chapter 2 here.

[strange-pass]

Hello! If you are willing, I am very much in need of some good ole fluff with my boy Solomon... Like MC confesses to him and he didn't really believe it because of the demon brothers and MC gets all super sweet and says something on the lines of "Yeah, they're cool and all, but they're not *you*" and just lists off all these things they love about Solomon.

I just really need him to understand he's loved because he deserves it 🥲

»•» 🌸Feelings for an Ancient Sorcerer🌸 «•«

credit for divider: @sweetparty

Pairing: Solomon x GN!Reader

Synopsis: MC feels like it’s time to tell Solomon how they feel. They feel a crushing sense of nervousness as they go through the day, since they aren’t sure how he’ll react.

A/N: Sorry if it seems like I took a while to write this! I went through a crushing headache two days in a row and couldn’t write anything in that time. I hope you find it to your liking! I added a little kiss at the end since he deserves one. Decided to change up a couple things in terms of adding stuff to my title, and a tiny divider at the end of the fic because it looks cute. My boy Solomon needs more love in the OG game and in Nightbringer, if i’m being honest, I didn’t love him as much as I did until that scene in Nightbringer when he was standing up for humankind. He was so amazing in that lesson and I hope we see more of that in the future! That’s all I have to say, have a lovely day!

Requesting here

Genre: Romantic fluff, a tiny bit of hurt/comfort. No warnings!

Word count: 1470+ words

°•. ✿ .•°

While getting changed, straightening your clothes, making sure your hair looks decent, you could hear a loud pounding coming from your chest and your stomach tied in a knot. You were a bit hesitant to ask Solomon if he wanted to take a walk in Diavolo’s garden today, you wanted to keep it on the down low so you two could hang out in peace. Well… the intention wasn’t exactly to hang out, of course you wanted to, but it was time to tell Solomon how you felt. Whenever you were with him, your heart overfilled with fear and joy to the point where you couldn’t touch him in the slightest without flushing red. You wanted to know how he felt, even if you got rejected, you to let him know of the joy in your heart when you see him.

“Hey, I had some free time today and I wanted to ask if you wanted to take a walk in Diavolo’s garden?”

Your heart skipped a beat when you saw that he opened your message right away. Darn… he was fast. The typing bubble on Solomon’s end made you restless. Waiting for him to reply felt like an eternity.

“MC! I wouldn’t mind a walk at the moment.”

“But unfortunately I have some business to take care of at the moment.”

“I’ll come pick you up once I’m finished up here, it shouldn’t take long.”

You were a bit impatient, but relieved since you had time to prepare yourself mentally.

Waiting around for Solomon was agonizing, you tried to distract yourself by working on other things, but all you could think of was him. In the end, you ended up pacing around the room, thinking of what you were going to say. It made you hot and dizzy when you kept pacing faster and faster, with your mind racing at the same pace. A knock at the door made you jump a bit, suddenly not feeling ready for this. You look at your phone and realize he texted you a bit ago, telling you that he was coming.

Before you could open the door, it seemed like he opened it faster.

“It’s so glad to see you! The whole ordeal I just went through was exhausting, it’ll be nice to walk around with you. Did you want to walk to the garden first, or take our time and look at other things?”

You’d rather get the confession out of the way first, since you couldn’t wait any longer. Delaying it would only make the whole experience more painful than it is because the knot in your stomach was getting tighter, and it only made you feel sick.

“Hey Solomon! Uh, why don’t we head straight to the garden first? It’s the perfect time of day since the fireflies with the blue butts come out, I’d hate to miss them.”

Your voice was a bit shaky, He could tell something was off with you but decided not to mention it.

“Ah of course! Let’s head over right away then.”

As you start heading over to the Demon Lords Castle, you might as well make conversation.

“So what kind of business were you taking care of?”

“Oh… the usual, Mammon practically begged me to get a witch off of his back. He said that she kept following him, and said he didn’t understand why.”

“I can kind see where this is going now..”

“Haha! So you can tell that Mammon owed her something and needed me to confront her so a deal of theirs wasn’t broken?”

His chuckle was so sweet to listen to, it’s too bad that they only call him when they need him.

“It’s definitely a classic Mammon situation that he’d get in to, heh”

You were about half way to the castle and getting a bit antsy. Were you really about to tell Solomon that you loved him? He’s an ancient sorcerer, someone to admire, it’s only sensible that he’s heard countless other confessions. One thing you understood is that even if he rejected you, he wouldn’t be any more awkward with you.

Solomon could tell you were nervous, not only could he see it in your mannerisms, he could feel it radiating off of you. He put a hand gently on your back and smiled, his own little way of reminding you that everything is alright. It made you feel a bit better, even if he didn’t understand what was going on with you, he still tried to ease your nerves through his sweet touch.

The garden was practically open to the public since Diavolo wanted to share the beauty of nature to everyone. A little secret was that the garden keepers grows the plants with a certain type of chemical, and that chemical prevents visitors from harming the plants when they come into contact with the gas that’s released since it gets absorbed through the skin. You picked the garden because many Devildom specialties grew there, they had arrangements of large flowers, small flowers, vines that are grown then used for decoration, and trees that were the home of many small animals that you’ve never laid eyes on. It created the perfect atmosphere for a confession.

“Oh wow! We picked the perfect time to come here MC, it looks beautiful..”

Solomon walked towards a giant flower and touched its silky petals.

“I never come here often, I never realized how many rare species of plants grew here. It’s really enchanting.”

Now was the moment, you had to tell him before you backed down. He looked especially handsome with blue light illuminating his face, could you really tell him?

“Uh… Solomon, there’s actually a different reason I brought you here, I hope you excuse my hidden motives.”

He looked at you with a curious glint in his eyes, patiently waiting for what you were going to say with a smile on his face. He knew you wouldn’t try to hurt him, he knows the feeling of someone with malice, but you had the completely opposite aura around you.

“Listen… this is a bit difficult to say, but I like you Solomon. I really like you and I’ve been meaning to tell you for a bit now.”

You had a stare that wouldn’t stray from his face, and watched for any signs on his face. The only thing you could observe was pure shock. He stopped moving entirely, with his eyes wide, processing the information. You were afraid you did something wrong, until he spoke.

“MC, stop kidding around…”

You could feel your stomach drop, did you make a mistake?

“Because I don’t think I could handle it if you didn’t reciprocate my feelings towards you.”

…

“…Huh?”

All you could manage was confusion.

“I guess I’ve always had a hunch that you liked one of the brothers, you’re always with them, so I understand why you would. I apologize if that’s a bit presumptuous of me to admit..”

Solomons voice was lower than usual, you could tell he didn’t fully believe your confession. You couldn’t comprehend what you were hearing, he liked you back, but thought you liked the brothers more than him? You gently grabbed his shoulders and spoke with a softer tone.

“Please don’t misunderstand me.. I really like the brothers.. but they aren’t you Solomon!”

His look changed to one of hope, but you needed him to know more. You needed him to know how much you adore him.

“You’re so smart, I’ve never met anyone with as much knowledge as you. It’s really admirable and I’m so happy that you share that limitless knowledge with me. You always make sure to teach me new facts, and take time out of your day to help me learn magic.. You’re so considerate to how I feel, and it’s so.. wonderful how you stand up for yourself and protect others around you. You’re cheeky and it’s so hilarious, you make such interesting food because of your creative mind, and-“

Solomon pulls you into a tight hug before you can finish your speech. You wrapped your arms around him, and made sure that you weren’t going to let him go.

“The point is, I really.. really like you, you have no idea how happy I am that you feel the same way…”

You let him know. Solomon squeezed you before he lifted his head up to look at your face.

“Of course I do, you’re such a charmer MC, really. You can captivate anyone, but I’m glad that your heart chose me out of anyone.”

You giggled a bit, you wouldn’t choose any one else over him, he’s crazy for thinking otherwise. Both of you leaned closer to each other with bright red faces. As you sealed your confession with a soft and longing kiss, it seemed like the gardens light grew softer. When you pulled away from each other, he grabbed your hand and interlocked his fingers with yours.

“You mean so much to me, thank you for choosing me. Never leave my arms again..”

‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊ ♡ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ♡ ‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊

[actual-changeling]

happy endings? boring. more like "hey you completely destroyed my trust in you and there is a part of it that will never ever return but this is as good as it will get and we're content" happy endings. aka my abandonment issues wrote a fic

—

It's not like he had a timeline in mind when they moved to the South Downs together. 

To be honest, he hadn't given it much thought at all, caught up in the adrenaline rush of finally securing the no-longer-fragile, peaceful existence he had been working towards for centuries. They settled into a comfortable routine, their recent past not being left untouched but rather unravelled incredibly slowly, bit by bit, and within a few months, the suffocating weight at the bottom of his lungs began to lift.

Crowley could breathe again, and that alone was exhilarating enough to delay that particular train of thought for another couple of weeks. After that, it crept up on him like a warm winter, rain seeping into the ground and freezing it up, so gradually he only noticed it once it reached the surface.

Fear.

No longer jagged shards of broken glass cutting into his palms, but soft, pliable, fitted to the curve of his mouth and the space between his fingers. A gentle squeeze around his heart whenever Aziraphale went out on his own, whenever he was out of Crowley's sight for more than an hour, when the silence grew heavier as the shadows expanded and even damp soil and fresh sprouts could not distract him any longer.

He won't come back this time, a soothing voice in the back of his mind would remark.

I'm sorry.

The same voice that had carried him through years of soul-crushing loneliness picked up all the pieces he dropped along the way, glueing them back into place. He trusts that voice more than he trusts Aziraphale Crowley realised when he was once again pacing the living room, waiting for him to come back.

(Ten large steps from the window to the doorway. Seven between the other two walls. He only starts getting dizzy after twenty minutes, which is when he switches to the bordering hallway; twelve steps to cover the entire span. The kitchen after that—six long steps.)

That is when he began an entirely different kind of waiting.

Continuing to exist without Aziraphale around became easier, and within a handful of months, he could keep reworking the flower beds or take a nap without being seized by inescapable dread.

That primal, familiar fear remained.

Fear that one day Aziraphale will walk out the front door and not come back. Fear that he will look at Crowley with subtle disdain in his eyes again, the word 'demon' hidden away underneath his tongue. Fear that he will ask him for something he refuses to give up and walk away the second he hears his answer.

Fear, soft but constant, permafrost covering their garden, crunching with every step.

Crowley considers simply asking Aziraphale if he is going to leave him again, but it seems too dangerous, asking. Questions have never brought him particularly nice results, after all, and there is the very same fear throwing its shadow over it. Asking might upset him, might cause him to leave, so he doesn't.

Time passes, Aziraphale stays, and they are as happy as they could possibly be, living and loving to their hearts' content, yet he never stops waiting.

Around the time they reach the tenth year of having moved to the South Downs, Crowley watches him button up his coat from the sofa, the television running quietly in the background. Grocery shopping, as Aziraphale said—one of the things he insisted on doing the human way. 

"Back in an hour," he promises, coming over to press a goodbye kiss to his temple.

His lips are warm, barely lingering as he straightens again.

"Mhh, see ya' angel."

When Aziraphale pulls the door shut behind himself, Crowley exhales sharply, picking up a pillow to press against his chest as he keeps watching. The pressure quiets the voice humming in his mind, and he won't keep his gaze trained to the clock or walk paths he knows with his eyes shut until he hears the front door opening again, but even now— 

even now, he is still afraid.

A layer of white on the grass that has not receded a single millimetre in all this time, and he has grown used to it, would miss it if it were to suddenly thaw.

Crowley knows the frost won't melt, and his fear won't fade.

He doubts it ever will, and when he watches Aziraphale place his shoes by the front door, his coat on the closest hook, he realises he no longer wants it to.

Maybe one day he will need it to hold himself together again.

[msilwrites]

Papa Bear Material Ch 8 (Captain Price Fic) - Whiplash

Chapter 1  Chapter 1 (Shorter Version) Chapter 2  Chapter 3   Chapter 4  Chapter 5  Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 9 Chapter 10  Chapter 11 (Last Chapter)

@darkangel4121@teenagellamaangel@madzzz0797@callsignferal(To the other’s who want me to tag you when there’s an update, just tell me at the comments)

A/N: Hi guys! Sorry for the delay in updating. I wanted to make sure I did proper research on how an actual OPS (operation) goes down, so I could make the scene as realistic and detailed as possible. I tried to break it down so it's easy to understand and hopefully paint a vivid picture. Apologies if it’s a bit long, but HERE is a little bit of a spoiler; if you stick with it, there’s something funny at the end, so be patient! Or, if you're not feeling patient, just skip to the bottom and get your laugh. 😂 Thanks for reading! ----------

Y/N couldn’t ignore the progress her team was making. Their drills were faster, sharper, and far more coordinated than before. It was such a stark improvement that even they started teasing her about it.

But Y/N knew exactly why.

Price was relentless. Every drill, every scenario, he dissected her tactics with ruthless precision. A gap in her perimeter? Exploited. A hesitation in her decision-making? Targeted. Overreliance on sweeping and clearing? He turned it against her without hesitation.

It wasn’t just a training exercise anymore—it was personal.

Her team noticed too. While they kept things professional, the pattern was clear: Price wasn’t just testing the squad; he was laser-focused on her. The way he singled her out made her grit her teeth, though she kept her expression neutral. Giving him the satisfaction of a reaction wasn’t an option.

Still, his determination forced her to adapt. After every drill, she analyzed his methods, shored up the weaknesses he’d exposed, and adjusted her approach. Sometimes, she even managed to outmaneuver him, claiming small victories.

But those victories were fleeting. Every time she won, he came back harder, forcing her to lose twice over. It was infuriating, a game of tug-of-war where he refused to let her gain any ground for long.

And yet, she refused to back down. If Price wanted to play this game, so be it.

That afternoon, after the morning drill and a quiet lunch, Y/N stayed in her cubicle. She avoided the rooftop entirely, certain Price would be there, ready to disrupt her peace. Instead, she sat at her desk, pretending to focus on paperwork while her thoughts churned.

Always one step ahead, she thought, her jaw tightening. The frustration simmered as she replayed the challenge in her mind.

She hadn’t cared much about winning or losing before. Her focus had always been on her team—protecting her people, completing the drills, and moving forward. But now? With this ridiculous deal hanging over her head, the thought of losing felt unbearable.

Her hand hovered over the edge of her desk as an idea began to form. If Price won, she wouldn’t owe him anything—not really. She’d play along until her reservist ended, then disappear. Block him, ignore his calls, and ghost him completely. It would be clean and final. No date. No follow-up. No Price.

A flicker of satisfaction tugged at her lips. If he thought a few drills and some clever teasing were enough to wear her down, he had another thing coming. She wasn’t about to give him the satisfaction of winning—not in the way he wanted, at least.

I’m a woman of my word, she mused, leaning back in her chair, but that doesn’t mean I’m playing by his rules.

Her plan solidified with each passing second. She wouldn’t engage. She’d leave him on read, let his messages pile up unanswered, and ignore his calls entirely. Let him deal with the frustration of being left in the dark.

He’d think he’d won—that his persistence and charm had paid off—but she’d pull the rug out from under him. No explanations, no closure. Just silence.

She smirked faintly at the thought, her resolve hardening. Price might be relentless, but so was she. If he wanted to play games, she’d make sure he left empty-handed.

With a quick glance at the clock, Y/N straightened in her seat, readying herself for the next round of drills. If Price thought he could push her into a corner, he was about to learn just how wrong he was.

----------

Y/N had managed to win two rounds of drills, narrowing the gap between their scores. One more win, and she’d even the playing field—or lose and be stuck honoring that ridiculous date. Or not. Disappearing was still an option, and her mind was already spinning with plans on how to make that happen.

The next day, however, brought an unexpected twist. There were no drills. Instead, the entire unit was called in for a counter-terrorism operation. The situation was serious—real, not simulated—and the urgency was clear. They needed to act swiftly, decisively, and most importantly, quietly. Resolving the threat before the media caught wind of it was critical.

Y/N was already gearing up when she noticed Price’s absence. For once, he wasn’t on base, and the thought gave her a small measure of relief. She didn’t know when he’d return—not that it mattered. By the time he did, she’d be gone, fully immersed in the operation.

Her focus sharpened as she prepared for what lay ahead. There was no room for distractions, no space for personal frustrations. The mission came first, and she intended to give it her all. If Price did show up later, it wouldn’t be her problem. She’d be in the field, doing what she did best.

One more drill can wait, she thought, strapping on her gear. For now, the stakes were higher than a petty competition. ----------

The operation unfolded like clockwork. Three teams, each with their assigned roles, moved into position with precision. Y/N and her team touched down on the rooftop helipad, the unmarked helicopter disappearing into the distance as soon as they disembarked. The air was brisk, and the city below carried on, blissfully unaware of the chaos lurking within the office building.

"Alpha One moving," her teammate reported over comms as he and another operator headed toward the fire exit on the rooftop, preparing to descend.

"Alpha Two in position," came the confirmation from the second half of their helipad team, who were securing their entry through the service access point.

"Alpha Three ready," Y/N whispered into her mic, her voice calm despite the slight tremor of nerves beneath the surface. She secured the rope to an anchor point on the rooftop, double-checking every knot.

Her smaller, lighter frame made her the ideal choice for the rope descent. Her teammates, though strong and capable, weren’t the ideal for this kind of maneuver. She, however, was.

“This isn’t a roller coaster at the theme park,” she muttered under her breath, tightening her grip on the rope and edging closer to the drop. At least here, she had control over the outcome.

The snipers’ voices crackled in her ear. “Targets confirmed on the ninth and tenth floors. Two on nine, three patrolling ten.”

“Copy that,” Y/N replied, her hands tightening further on the rope.

One of the snipers added, “We can’t fire clean. They’re grouped too tight. If we take one, the others will know before we can cycle the next round. It’ll blow the whole op.”

Y/N understood immediately. The targets’ close proximity and overlapping patrol routes made it nearly impossible for the snipers to eliminate them without alerting the rest. This wasn’t about precision—it was about timing, speed, and silence.

“That’s why you’ve got me,” she said, her voice dry but focused.

With a deep breath, she stepped backward over the edge and began her descent. Feet pressed firmly against the glass exterior, she moved smoothly downward, her body angled and controlled. Each step and slide was deliberate as she relied on the rope for balance, her rifle secured but ready.

“Ninth floor, second office from the left. Two targets,” one of the snipers reported.

“On it,” she replied, her voice steady.

Pausing her descent, she angled her body, flipping upside down with practiced ease. Her rifle was in position within seconds.

“Hold fire,” she murmured to the snipers. “On my mark. We take them together.”

There was a pause on the comms, followed by quiet acknowledgments from the snipers.

“Three… two… one… mark.”

Y/N fired simultaneously with the snipers stationed across the building. Her silenced shots punctuated the air as the figures behind the glass dropped in sync, their bodies hitting the floor soundlessly. The timing was flawless—no alarms, no panicked shouts.

“Clear,” she reported, resuming her glide downward.

“Three on the tenth floor,” the sniper advised.

“I see them,” she confirmed. Adjusting her position, she fired again with precision, her gloved hands steady. These targets were more spread out, but her silencer and sharp aim ensured they never knew what hit them.

By the time Y/N reached the designated floor, her teammates were already in position inside. One of them used a tactical glass-breaking tool to create an opening—a compact device designed to shatter glass with controlled force.

The sharp hiss of pressure and the cracking sound of glass breaking told her it was time. “Alpha Three, you’re clear,” her teammate signaled.

With a firm grip on the rope, Y/N swung herself inward, using the momentum to land softly inside the room. Her rifle was raised immediately, scanning the surroundings.

“Let’s move,” she ordered, her tone clipped and commanding. The team fell into formation, sweeping the next room with silent precision. ----------

The team moved swiftly through the first room, shots ringing out with practiced precision. Each movement was calculated—one target down, then another, each takedown happening in rapid succession. There was no time to waste.

Y/N and her team cleared the space, checking corners and eliminating threats as they went. Her focus was unbroken, the mission at hand consuming every ounce of her attention.

One of her teammates, a seasoned operative, gestured to the hostages huddled in the corner. “Move them out,” he instructed.

Another member of the team guided the hostages to the fire exit, his pace quick but measured. He ensured they stayed low, ducking behind furniture and moving out of view of any potential threats.

With the hostages safely on their way, Y/N and her remaining teammate moved to the next door.

“We wait for Alpha Four,” Y/N murmured, her eyes locked on the hallway.

“Understood,” her teammate replied, his voice steady but taut with anticipation.

They crouched in place, every sense heightened. The seconds felt like minutes as they waited for the others to arrive.

When the confirmation came through their earpieces, Y/N nodded. “Let’s go.”

Together, they moved toward the door. Y/N placed her hand on the breach tool, signaling to her teammate to prepare for entry. The device was positioned, ready to take down the door with minimal noise.

She took one last breath, steeling herself for the next phase. The countdown to breach was about to begin. ---------

As Y/N reached for the breach tool, the door to the next room shuddered under the pressure of a sudden, violent blast. The force hit her with unexpected power, sending her flying backward, crashing into the wall. For a moment, everything blurred—her body rocked from the impact, her breath knocked out of her lungs.

The blast had come from within the room—an ambush. The terrorist inside had anticipated their entry, and the door wasn’t just locked. It was rigged.

Her team reacted instantly, diving for cover, weapons raised. Gunshots tore through the air, deafening in their intensity. Y/N barely registered the chaos as her teammate, seeing her vulnerable position, lunged forward. He grabbed her, pulling her by the shoulders and dragging her to safety behind a nearby stack of crates.

“Move, move!” he shouted as they hit the ground. Y/N’s ears were ringing, her vision still fuzzy from the blast.

But they couldn’t afford to rest. The package—the critical asset they’d come for—was still inside with the terrorists. Y/N shook off the disorientation, forcing herself to her feet, gun in hand.

“We can’t let them escape with it,” she said, voice steady despite the adrenaline surging through her veins.

Her team nodded, their focus sharp. The mission hadn’t changed. They would break in, neutralize the threat, and secure the package. No matter the cost.

Shaking off the lingering disorientation, Y/N pushed herself up and sprinted down the hallway. The terrorists had moved fast, carrying sensitive intel—information that couldn’t fall into the wrong hands. Her helmet was long gone, knocked off during the blast, and she’d removed her balaclava to breathe more freely, the cool air filling her lungs.

Ahead, she spotted one of the terrorists. Without hesitation, she launched herself at him, her legs wrapping around his waist just below his ribs. In one fluid motion, she twisted, using her momentum to drag him down. Her arms circled his neck, tightening into a vice-like grip as she forced him into submission, cutting off his air supply.

He struggled, but it was too late—Y/N was already in control. His attempts to fight were futile as she held him firm, waiting for the rest of her team to catch up and secure the situation.

She charged forward, her body tense with adrenaline, as bullets suddenly ricocheted off the walls behind her. She barely registered the sharp pain in her shoulder, a bullet grazing her as she sprinted toward the fire exit. No time to stop, no time to think about the wound.

"Alpha Three, need backup, gunmen on my tail. I’m moving downstairs!!" she radioed, her breath ragged as she darted down the hallway, dodging the shots.

She had the package now, but the danger wasn’t over. With one hand clutching the precious intel, the other wrapped around a handgun, her knives still tucked securely at her side. The snipers were watching the glass, waiting for her signal.

"Alpha Three, abort! We’ve spotted a gunman on your floor," came the urgent call from the sniper. Too late.

The blow came suddenly—her face met the force of a backhanded slap, throwing her off balance and sending her crashing backward. Her head snapped against the floor as the terrorist lunged for his weapon, intent on shooting her and taking the package.

Reacting on instinct, she threw one of her knives, striking his palm and forcing the gun from his grasp. In a blur, she kicked it further out of reach, but the terrorist was quick. He pulled out his own knife, and the fight became a brutal, fast-paced melee.

The two exchanged strikes, the blade swiping past her face as she deftly evaded. His next move was swift—a stab aimed directly at her face. She blocked his arm with everything she had, forcing the blade away, and used her strength to push back.

With the force of the move, he stumbled, losing his footing. She seized the opportunity, maneuvering him to the ground beneath her. She quickly pulled out her own knife, aiming for a decisive strike—but he wasn’t finished yet. He pushed against her with all his strength, trying to keep her at bay.

In a savage moment of desperation, she sank her teeth into his arm, catching him off guard. He screamed in pain, his body jerking in response. But she didn’t stop. She pressed the knife deeper into his chest, her grip tightening as she continued to bite down, her teeth locking on his flesh. His eyes widened in shock and terror, but it was too late. With a final push, the blade buried itself in his chest, immobilizing him in fear and agony.

"Alpha Three, all clear. Package secure. Target down," she said, her voice strained, the metallic taste of blood lingering in her mouth.

The target had passed out from the pain—he wasn’t dead, though the knife had found a critical spot in his chest. The wound was deep, agonizing, but not fatal.

"Alpha Two, clear. Floor's secure. Charlie One and Two, you better fill me in on what you saw later," her teammate radioed, nodding toward the snipers.

There was a brief pause before the snipers spoke. "That was… well, quite savage, Inspector," they said, their tone a mix of admiration and surprise, trying to lighten the mood. They’d just watched her take matters into her own hands, witnessing the raw brutality of her actions up close.

----------

After the operation, she was rushed for medical attention. The bullet wound on her shoulder wasn’t just a scrape; it was deeper and more severe than she had initially thought. Blood oozed steadily down her arm, soaking the sleeve of her uniform, while the sharp, relentless pain made every movement unbearable. Her face, where she had taken a hard hit, was swollen and already blossoming into ugly shades of purplish-yellow, the throbbing ache a constant reminder of the brutality she’d endured. She had pushed herself to the limit, and her body was now making her pay for it.

Meanwhile, the unit worked quickly to secure all footage from the building’s CCTV. Keeping the operation under wraps before the media caught wind of it was critical sending it to MI5 afterwards. However, there was no escaping the evidence of her altercation—particularly the moment she’d bitten down on the terrorist’s arm to drive the knife deeper into his chest. One of her teammates, with a mischievous streak, managed to pull a clip from the drone footage and building cameras, which vividly captured her throwing the man down, the brutal bite, and the finishing stab. Within thirty minutes, the clip had made its way into the team’s group chat, where it had already earned the title of the "Savage Knife Fight."

The memes came pouring in. Someone photoshopped her face onto a snapping alligator turtle mid-bite with the caption: When the ‘snap’ in Snapping Alligator Turtle isn’t just a nickname. Another showed her lunging at a cartoon terrorist with oversized reptilian jaws, complete with a knife clutched in her teeth. By the time she’d finished getting patched up, the entire office had unofficially reaffirmed her title as the “Snapping Alligator Turtle” of the unit—a nickname she’d earned long ago thanks to the infamous joke patch on her uniform sleeve.

The patch itself was an inside joke from her team—a snarling cartoon depiction of a snapping alligator turtle, emblazoned with the words, “Fast? Not when you’re dead.” The twist? It was supposed to reference to her as a tortoise, not a turtle, as she was affectionately nicknamed the “Snapping Alligator Tortoise.” Her team loved pointing out that no such tortoise exists, making the name both a playful jab and a nod to her relentless tenacity in the field. After the knife fight? That patch felt less like a joke and more like a badge of truth, cementing her reputation in the most savage way possible.

The Chief smirked when he saw the latest round of memes circulating. “Looks like you’ve lived up to your patch again, Inspector,” he teased, leaning against the doorframe of the medical bay.

She rolled her eyes but couldn’t suppress a wry smile. “My other arm couldn’t push him down, so I had to do what I had to do,” she replied, her tone dry as ever.

The banter and jokes didn’t bother her—not really. If anything, they were a reminder that she’d done her job, even if she had to bite her way to the finish line.

----------

Earlier, the medic had to cut through the sleeve of her uniform to tend to the wound on her shoulder. Now, her dominant arm was heavily bandaged and barely functional, leaving her to manage everything with her non-dominant hand. It made simple tasks—like typing or clicking a mouse—frustratingly slow and clumsy.

To make matters worse, the painkillers she’d been given contained something that left her drowsy and sluggish, further slowing her progress. Every few minutes, she caught herself blinking too long, the haze of exhaustion tugging at her focus.

Her unit had urged her to go home and rest for the day. “You’ve done more than enough,” one of them had said, practically pleading. But she’d waved them off, stubborn as ever. “I’d rather finish the paperwork now,” she’d replied flatly. “No point in letting it pile up for tomorrow.”

So there she sat, struggling through the reports with one arm out of commission and her body fighting to shut down. Her movements were slow but deliberate, her determination unwavering. If nothing else, she refused to let a stack of unfinished paperwork get the better of her after the day she’d had.

The office phone rang, cutting through the quiet murmur of keyboards and low conversations. Her colleague in the next cubicle picked it up, his expression shifting from casual to mildly alarmed. He glanced over at her, hesitant.

"Uhhh… Commander Price is asking for you," he said, dragging out the words like he was delivering bad news.

Her fingers froze above the keyboard, and she immediately tensed at the name. For a moment, her tired brain tried to pretend she hadn’t heard him. With a sigh that sounded more like a groan, she finally looked up.

She was in no mood for this—not with her dominant arm out of commission, her painkillers making her feel like she was one wrong blink away from passing out, and her shredded sleeve making her look like the Hulk mid-transformation.

With a deadpan, drowsy expression, she replied, "Tell him I’m busy. Really sorry." Her tone suggested she was anything but. Without waiting for a reaction, she turned back to her painfully slow typing.

Her colleague hesitated, but then dutifully repeated her words into the receiver. A sharp click sounded as the line disconnected. He stared at the phone for a moment, then placed it gingerly back in its cradle, casting her a sidelong glance.

"You know he’s not gonna buy that, right?"

"Not my problem," she mumbled, squinting at the screen. "He can wait like everyone else."

About 10 to 15 minutes later, her colleague, now holding a freshly filled mug from the water cooler, burst into the office at full speed.

"Y/N! Commander Price is in the hallway! He’s heading this way!" he blurted, nearly spilling his drink in the process.

She froze mid-keystroke, her eyes widening in disbelief. "You’re joking," she muttered, though the look on his face confirmed he was very much not.

Her drowsiness evaporated instantly, replaced by a sudden, panicked burst of energy. She shot up from her chair, looking around like a trapped animal. Hide! Where to hide?!

Her first instinct was the file closet, but one glance at her injured arm told her there was no way she could wedge herself in there. Desperate, she looked at the desks, considered crawling under one, but quickly dismissed it as undignified.

"Think, think, think!" she hissed, spinning in a small circle like a malfunctioning robot.

Finally, her eyes landed on the fire exit. Without a second thought, she bolted for it, ignoring the confused looks from her colleagues. She flung the door open and dashed down the stairwell, taking two steps at a time despite her bandaged arm screaming in protest.

By the time she reached the first floor, she was breathless but didn’t stop. She ran straight through the lobby, past a bewildered colleague who barely had time to call out, “Everything alright, Y/N?”

“Yep! Totally fine!” she replied, not breaking her stride.

And then she was out the door, vanishing into the afternoon like a fugitive fleeing a crime scene.

----------

After bolting down the fire exit like her life depended on it, she burst into the parking lot, deciding to make a break for the mess hall building. Maybe she could catch her breath and grab a drink before Price found her again.

Unbeknownst to her, Commander Price was already in the mess hall. Spotting her sprinting toward the door, he leaned casually against the frame, waiting like a predator lying in ambush. As soon as she was close enough, he straightened up, a playful grin spreading across his face.

“Boo,” he said, his voice low but unmistakably teasing.

She froze mid-step, her breath catching as her eyes snapped wide open in disbelief. “No… NO.”

Without a second thought, she turned on her heel and bolted back the way she came. “Not today, Price! Not with my luck!”

Her panicked retreat was as chaotic as it was ill-planned. In her frenzy, she failed to notice the police van reversing directly into her path. By the time the warning beep registered, it was far too late. She collided with the front of the van, the impact sending her sprawling across the hood.

“FUCK!” she screamed, rolling with dramatic flair across the windshield before tumbling off the side and landing with a graceless thud on the pavement.

The van screeched to a halt, and the driver jumped out, his face pale. “Inspector! Are you—oh my gosh!! are you okay?”

“I’m fine!” she snapped, though the way she cradled her now definitely broken arm told a different story. Groaning, she flopped back onto the pavement, glaring up at the sky. “Just… give me a minute to die in peace.”

By then, the entire parking lot was in an uproar. Unit members spilled out of the building, drawn by the loud thwack of human-meets-vehicle. Captain Price, who had witnessed the entire debacle from the mess hall entrance, was already sprinting toward her, his expression shifting from amusement to genuine worry.

Kneeling beside her, Price’s gaze flicked from her arm to her face, his tone softer but still laced with teasing concern. “Bloody hell, darling. Are you trying to give me a heart attack? First running like a lunatic, and now this?”

She glared at him through the haze of pain, her voice sharp despite her discomfort. “Don’t darling me, Price. If it isn’t obvious, I didn’t want to face you!”

His lips quirked into that infuriating smirk she’d come to dread. “So, you admit you were running from me?”

Her eyes narrowed further, venom practically dripping from her gaze. “I blame you! If you hadn’t ambushed me, I wouldn’t have been running!”

Price raised an eyebrow, clearly unbothered. “Would it help if I carried your paperwork to the hospital?”

She let out a frustrated groan and shot him a rude hand gesture with her good arm as the non-emergency ambulance pulled up. The medics began loading her onto the stretcher, her scowl deepening with every second.

“Gosh, I hate you,” she muttered, closing her eyes as if willing herself to disappear. “This is all your fault.” her scowl growing darker with every jostle.

The medics prepared to shut the ambulance doors when one of them turned to Price. “Commander, do you want to ride along? She might need some support.”

Her eyes snapped open, fire practically shooting from her gaze. “NO! I said, keep that man away from me!”

Price, now thoroughly entertained, leaned closer with a grin. “See you at the hospital, love.”

The doors shut, muffling the beginning of what sounded like a creative string of curses.

The parking lot fell into stunned silence before one officer snorted. “Honestly? That might’ve been the best entertainment we’ve had all year.”

Another officer grinned. “Oi, Captain! You better follow her! She’s gonna need someone to carry all that pride back!”

Encouraged by the cheers and laughter from the unit, Price gave a mock bow, climbed into his car, and started the engine.

By the time she spotted his 4x4 in the ambulance’s window, her angry groan could probably be heard in the next postcode. “I swear, if that man follows me into the hospital, I’m filing two injury reports—one for my arm and one for my sanity!”

A/N: Well, I hope you enjoyed this chapter despite it being a bit on the longer side. I tried to get into all the messy, chaotic details. 😅 And just a heads up, it’s going to be a little harder for her to run away from Captain Price now, especially considering she’s injured. But we all know she’ll try, anyway. 😂 Thanks for reading, and as always, feel free to drop your thoughts below!

Edit: On to the next chapter!!-------->

[lou-struck]

Midnight In the Sky

Hajime Iwaizumi x reader

WC: 1.8k

~You missed the Countdown

You missed the party

But most importantly, you miss him 

a/n: Ho ho ho, Merry Christmas to @sir-kuroo. I was think for a bit on what I wanted to do for this little gift and I thought A New Years Fic would be appropriate. 

"You're kidding me."

"I know," you sign in exasperation as you watch the large board of flights flicker as the airlines struggle to make adjustments for the winter storm. "The attendant told me that my flight won't be taking off for another 4 hours." your voice is shaky as you hold your cell phone up to your ear, trying your best not to break down in the middle of this airport.

Hajime Iwaizumi's voice softens through the speaker. "What about New Years? The party?"

"Haji, you should still go. These are your friends, and I want you to have a good time tonight. Even if I can't be there with you." although you were trying your best to sound supportive. You really wanted to go to that New Year's party. It's always fun to spend the evening with your boyfriend and his friends. They're a wild bunch and make any time a great one.

"None of those people at the party are you." he pushes back. Fighting for the happiness that he knows you deserve. "What time do you land?" he asks, the cogs turning in his head on how he can make this shitty situation better. "It's early enough we could still make it to the party."

Although he can't see it, you shake your head at his words. Your lips formed into a deep frown. "It'll be way too late then. You go to the party, I'll be too tired too anyway. I'll just get a cab from the airport, and then we can see each other tomorrow."

"This is not how it was supposed to go. I'm sorry, y/n," he says. Although his voice is in your ear, it feels like he might as well be on another planet. "I wanted to spend midnight with you."

You don't know if it's the fact that you don't get to kiss your boyfriend at midnight on New Year's Eve or it's that you have been stuck in airports for the past 16 hours after your holiday plans ran late, but nevertheless, your eyes become watery.

"Don't go kissing anyone else at midnight," You laugh, knowing that he would never do such a thing. You trust him wholeheartedly. But let's face it: your boyfriend, Hajime Iawizumi, is a snack that most people wouldn't hesitate to try to sink their teeth into.

"I'd never," he says with a bit of lighthearted humor in his voice. The shift in his tone makes you feel a little bit better, but you haven't seen him in weeks, and you miss him so badly. Even hearing his voice seems like a mockery now, especially since you were supposed to see him face-to-face hours ago. "Do you want me to stay on the line with you while you wait?"

"no, that's all right. I'm going to go charge my phone; I love you so much. Have a great time tonight."

You hang up before he has a chance to say goodbye and wonder about the airport, anxiously waiting to get back home to him.

~

"ladies and gentlemen, this is your captain speaking. We are beginning our descent into Tokyo International Airport. Our estimated arrival time at the gate will be, uh… 12:37 am. On behalf of the Flight Crew, we would like to thank you for choosing to fly with us this New Year's Eve. 

The Pilot's announcement is loud enough to stir you from your light, uncomfortable slumber. 

Blinking softly, you take in the darkened cabin; the soft snores of the other passengers reach your ears. You don't blame them. Traveling is exhausting, even if the plane is doing all the work. Winter weather has delayed your flight home from visiting your relatives for the holidays drastically. You've had three unexpected layovers, and the somber tingle in the back of your mind whispers to your subconscious that the odds of you getting your checked luggage back are stupidly low.

Another feeling that's hard to ignore is the cramped sensation in your neck from the way your head has been resting against the cabin walls. 

But gut feelings and neck cramps pale in comparison to the ache in your chest. It's New Year's Eve, and you should've been home hours ago. 

You should be at some glittery party wearing some Cheesy 2024 plastic glasses, drinking something sparkling, and cozied up with the person you love most. 

You miss Hajime.

You miss his strong arms.

You miss the way he always seems to smell like Tiger Balm. 

With a longing sigh, you lean closer to the small oval window next to you. The chill of the high altitude permeates the clear plastic buffer between your hand and the outer glass. Peering down through the thin cloud cover, you can see the lights of some city. 

You should be down on the ground with him. But for reasons beyond your control, you are not.

All of a sudden, you see the first streak of light fly up towards you. It doesn't make it anywhere close to your plane before exploding into hundreds of little flares of light.

People down below are lighting off fireworks. How is it possible that it's midnight already?

You grab your phone. Although it's on airplane mode, the clock still works just fine. The four large numbers of your home screen clock stare back at you.

12:00 am 

January 1st

You've missed the countdown.

Your stomach drops as the plane starts on it's gradual descent. It's crazy how when you're up in the sky, everything looks close together. The display of New Year lights is breathtaking, but your heart aches.

Can he see the fireworks too? 

You can see it now: he's at the New Year's party with a big, handsome smile on his face, laughing with his friends. he must be so happy. And he must be having the best time. Listening to live music and drinking overpriced spirits at the venue.

there are a few strands of sparkly confetti in his spiked hair. He must look so handsome in the outfit you picked out for him.

Your matching one sits unused in your closet. Maybe you can use it next year…

You are pulled from your vivid imagination when the plane touches down on the asphalt roughly, the cabin shakes, And luggage compartments fly open, but thankfully, nothing flies out.

It skirts down the runway, leaving your stomach somewhere a few hundred meters back. Looking out the window at the dark and the sky, the fireworks have stopped, but at least you're home.

People are anxious to get off a plane, standing and rushing to the door with eagerness. They must have someone to meet, too. 

From the entrance of the plane, you see one of the stages from earlier grab the intercom.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, we have reached our destination. The current time is 12:33 am. We apologize for the delay, but all luggage from connecting flights will be arriving at 3 pm the next day due to travel. If you have any questions in regard to lost luggage or of damaged items, please contact our customer support hotline available on our website. Thank you for flying with us."

A few other passengers groan, but you were expecting this. You unplug your phone charger from your seat outlet and shove the white-coated wire into the front pocket of your backpack.

After one final sweep of the plane, you stand ready to get off of this thing, ready to be home, ready to see him later today.

It's funny how the people who had been so eager to get off the plane just seconds ago now decide to be unbearably slow as they walk through the gate and into the terminal. Your little carryon trails behind as you walk through the airport. Riding shuttles, climbing escalators, and dodging those little golf cart things that drive down the center of the walkway. 

Exhaustion weighs on your travel-torn mind, And you walk as if you are in your own little world.

You don't even notice that someone is calling your name…

A gentle hand reaches out and grabs your sweatshirt-clad shoulder. You are brought out of La La Land and back to reality as your lidded eyes meet olive green, and for a moment, you are speechless.

"Hajime?" you breathe, too shocked to say the usual 'I missed you stuff' as you lunge forward and cling to him in a heartfelt embrace. "What are you doing here?"

He holds you tightly, pushing you into his broad chest. Oh, how you've missed those muscles. 

The soft fabric of his hoodie cushions your face far better than any pillow you used these past few weeks away. "Do you really think I would want to spend the New Year with anyone else?"

"How long did you-?" you ask, your jaw dropping in surprise when you take the time to take in his attire. His dryer-faded Aoba Johsai sweatshirt and blue-gray checkered pajama pants were certainly not NYE party attire.

Where is the sharp-looking black dress shirt and champagne tie?

"I was already on my way to the airport when you called earlier." he chuckles stubbornly. His calloused fingers rub little circles into your back. "Did you really think I would just go and leave you here to fend for yourself?"

"But the party-"

"Wouldn't have been the same without you." he lovingly interrupts you and tilts his chin downwards to meet your eyes. "Once I told the others that your flight got delayed, they knew there was no chance I was going to be at that party."

"And???" you ask, knowing that there is always more to the story with him.

He smiles brilliantly, and you feel yourself falling in love all over again. "So instead, we are gonna go home, get some decent rest, and meet them for brunch tomorrow."

"Sounds perfect." Your heartbeat slows and although you are still standing in the arrivals gate of the airport- you feel like you're home at last. 

"Hey," he looks down at you through his thick brows tenderly. "There's something I gotta say before anyone else does."

"What is it?" In confusion, you cock your head to the side?

"Happy New Year," he murmurs, the love he has for you coating his words like powdered sugar on the roof of your mouth. 

"Happy New Year Hajime."

His fingers tiptoe around your waist and pull you close. "It may not be midnight, but I still want that New Year's Kiss?"

It may be 12:53 am on January 1st, but who are you to care when his Carmex-dusted lips meet yours.

This is your midnight moment on the ground. 

Gone is the Baggage claim and grouchy travelers as fireworks ignite all around you as you fall under his spell. Greedy for more of these moments that are sure to come with this New Year

Tagging: @enchantedforest-network

[whatswrongwithblue]

The Fire in the Sin

Chapter 18 - Welcome (Back) to Heaven

Word count: 4,246. Read on AO3. Series Masterlist. <- Previous Chapter.

Summary: Alastor and Mina's anniversary and a little epilogue for Part 6. TW: mentions of past suicidal thoughts.

Artwork by @lustylita. Please give her a follow, her Alastor artwork is the best!

Series Summary:

In the 1950's, Alastor met the woman he would eventually marry but unfortunately his Radio Demon persona went for her soul rather than her hand. He has to learn what it means to love, and cherish, without possessing and he does. Their relationship is beautiful, strong, unbreakable . . . but he carries a dark secret through their marriage for decades until eventually he has to face the consequences of that secret and leave her, without warning, for seven years. He returns, finding her at the Hazbin Hotel, and has to convince her to forgive him, while being literally bound to secrecy, unable to tell her any of things he now is desperate to explain to her.

(This is a duel timeline fic, timestamps will be a the top of every chapter.)

Chapter 18 - Welcome (Back) to Heaven

Present Day

Mina was stuck in her own head as she made her way back to her and Alastor’s room.

She was hurt he wasn’t there and embarrassed by the conversation downstairs when Niffty had announced to everyone that it was their anniversary. That led to reflecting on their wedding day, his proposal, and the events with Kassandra that had led up to it. And anytime she let her mind wander there, it eventually led to her remembering the hour of her and Alastor’s finest debauchery that day in the church. They had never been able to top that day, because it had been such a perfect storm of anger, trauma, love and lust, and delayed gratification, that had all boiled over far more than they had even meant for it to.

God she missed Alastor.

How had she gone seven years without him? Now that he was back a single day felt unbearable. And she had been waiting since his return specifically for this day, had patiently planned out her gifts for years because of his absence and now he wasn’t there again.

Mina felt a painful lump forming in her throat as she approached her bedroom door. She was so sick of crying. She hated crying, hated feeling sorry for herself, prided herself in not being the kind of woman that broke down over every little fucking thing-

She opened the door and there was Alastor, in their bedroom, which was now covered in dark red and black roses.

He was sitting in one of the two armchairs by the fireplace that was almost never used because it was Hell and it was always too warm anyway, but he had it going now. Light green flames illuminated the small space and they felt like they were putting off cool air while keeping the ambiance warm and inviting. Mina wondered if there would ever come a day when his powers would cease to amaze her.

Alastor also looked like he had been very bored, waiting for her to return. He had one leg crossed over the other, his chin resting in the palm of one hand, with his elbow supporting himself as it propped him up against the arm of the chair, and he had clearly been lost in his thoughts as he watched the fireplace.

His head shot up as she opened the door and he smiled pleasantly at her before standing.

“Really Mina,” he said as he stood, “you were down there for so long, I was beginning to worry I would have to ruin the surprise and come get you myself.”

She practically ran to him and threw her arms around his neck, pulling him into a tight embrace that he eagerly returned.

“You’re here,” she said with a sigh of relief, pressing her face into his collar to better feel his warmth and breath in his scent.

“Of course!” he said cheerfully, but then she pulled away and he really looked at her face, and she watched as his eyebrows creased with concern. “You were starting to have your doubts, weren’t you?”

Mina felt a bit embarrassed that he had read her so easily and smothered that emotion down with defensiveness. “So I get a little jumpy when you’re not around. I have my reasons to be.”

“Oh, Mina,” he said, for once ignoring the bite in her tone and opting to take the apologetic road right away. He cupped her cheek and kissed her, a short and sweet press of his lips to hers. “I intend to be here for every one of these days, for as long as you and I exist. I never meant . . . well it doesn’t matter now, I suppose, but I promise you’ll never miss me like that again.”

“Then the rest of the day . . . it’s ours, right?” she asked.

“I have to leave again first thing tomorrow, I’m afraid, but yes. I have cleared my schedule for the rest of the day. All duties to the hotel have been seen to and as for my other responsibilities, well let’s just say I’ve made sure we will not be bothered.”

Mina smiled and relaxed, fully believing his promise, and let herself really look around the room.

“It’s beautiful in here. Not your usual style, though.”

“Eh, I can be flexible,” he said with a grin. “Besides, I have a lot of lost time to make up for.”

She was not going to complain. Alastor was not the kind of man to bring home flowers or any kind of romantic trinkets. Not that he never did, but she could probably count on one hand how many times he had. If he was apt to show any inclination for romance, he would rather show it by wanting to spend time with her than by giving her what he looked at as useless and meaningless gifts. It wasn’t necessarily a wrong perspective and it never bothered Mina too much, but what woman didn’t want flowers now and then? And now she had a room full of them, their heady scent filling the air, and they blended strangely well with their usual décor. The roses weren’t the common variety seen in Hell. Not a one of them had an eye in the center and the thorns were of perfectly unremarkable size. He had summoned these, created them out of his own magic, just for her.

“I have some gifts for you, too,” she said, with a nervous little bounce on the balls of her feet.

“Oh, well, these,” he said, gesturing at the roses with a chuckle, “these are not an anniversary gift. Not really. Think of them more as an apology. I have something a bit more substantial to give you, but you first, ma cher.”

“Okay,” she said with a shaky breath and went over to her dresser drawer. Bending down to the lower drawer, she pulled it all the way out, and reached deep into the back of the dresser, pulling out a cloth drawstring bag, which she then held behind her back.

“I’ve held onto these for a while now,” she admitted. “First, I just wanted to give them to you when you . . .well whenever you got back. But then I was mad at you. And well you know all that. But then, I don’t know, it didn’t seem like the right time, and then I knew our anniversary was coming up, so I held onto them even longer figuring that would be the right time . . .”

He was watching her babble on, his smile soft and relaxed, clearly a little amused by her obvious nervousness.

“Well, just . . . here.”

With her hands still behind her back, she took the bottle out of the bag and presented it to him.

It was a bottle of Old Overhold straight rye whiskey, bottled in 1930.

Alastor looked completely stunned as he turned it over in his hands, examining the label.

“I don’t know if that was your favorite brand to drink when you were alive. I – I don’t even know if it’s considered good whiskey, but it’s legitimate. It’s been stored properly and unopened.”

“How did you get this?” he asked, looking at her with amazement that made her blush.

“Let’s just say I stumbled upon it while looking around New Orleans.”

His eyebrows shot up, looking considerably more surprised. “You went to New Orleans?”

She thought he was upset and wrung her hands, feeling like she had somehow intruded on his privacy.

“I just thought, maybe if you were on Earth . . . I don’t know, I didn’t know where to even begin looking for you. And I just . . . missed you. And there was so much in that city that reminded me of you, so sometimes, even when I felt like I was on a dead end, I would just go there and-“

“Mina,” he said, stopping her. “Thank you. Really. It’s lovely. And quite impressive.”

“Really?” she asked, and he nodded, opening the antique bottle and bringing it to his nose.

He closed his eyes as the scent hit him and his smile lit up his face.

“You have outdone yourself, my love,” he said.

“Not really,” she said, biting her lip, tugging on the skin with one long canine. “There’s more.”

He put the top back on the bottle and raised an eyebrow at her.

She brought the drawstring bag in front of her and with trembling hands, reached into the bag and pulled out an envelope.

“They’re polaroids,” she said, handing the visibly shaking envelope to him, and quickly snatching her hand away when he took it from her. “Of your mother’s grave.”

“What?”

He was standing as if frozen in place, holding the envelope out in front of him, his arm stuck in the position it had been when he had taken it from her.

“I found it,” she said quietly. “Years ago. Maybe 5 now? And it was neglected quite badly. So I cleaned it up. It took forever. I even had to get my hands on a power washer,” she chuckled nervously. “And I can’t even really say why, but I took pictures of my progress of it. And then, whenever I had the time to spare, I still stopped by and left flowers. I just . . . I remember you saying once sunflowers were her favorite, so I tried to get those when I could . . .”

She trailed off as Alastor walked away from her. He sat on the edge of their bed and pulled the pictures out, silently looking through them.

His expression was truly unreadable to her. Alastor’s smile was thin and tight, his eyes were narrowed, and his ears were straight forward and unmoving. Mina worried she had taken things too far. She watched as he swallowed hard as he looked at the last couple of photos, his eyebrows knitted close together.

“Shit, I’m sorry,” she said quickly. “Al’, love, I’m really sorry.”

“This last one was taken the date of the last extermination,” he said in a low voice.

“What?” she said, confused.

“The dates,” he explained, holding up the photo. “They’re stamped in the top corner of each photo.”

“Oh, I hadn’t noticed,” she mumbled.

“That’s what you were doing when you disappeared before the extermination?”

Mina tried to shrug it off. “The job I was on was a quick one. I thought I would have more time so yeah, I did.”

“Why?”

The pure confusion on his face made her snap.

“Because I was mad at you!” she yelled. “Because you were gone, for so long, and I missed you, so fucking much! Every day! It was the most painful and awful feeling that I couldn’t ever turn off. God Alastor, how do you still not understand that?! And I didn’t mean for it to happen, but I started talking to her, whenever I was at her grave. It made me feel like . . . like there was someone else out there that knew what it was like to miss you, so much-“ she stopped as her voice broke, and she wiped away a tear impatiently. “And then you were back and everything was fucked. Everything was wrong. The day you came back should have been the happiest day of my life but it all went wrong. And I had no one to talk to that understood you the way I did.”

Alastor sat the photos down next to him and stood up from the bed. Then he walked back over to her and kissed her.

She melted into the kiss right away, finding immediate comfort in the way his lips caressed hers. Her eyes closed, making the last of her tears fall down her face, but she was soothed by his embrace, no longer feeling like she was on the edge of a breakdown.

He broke the kiss but still held her close, resting his chin on the top of her head between her ears.

“Thank you, Mina. I really can’t say . . .” he began but went quiet as his own voice began to crack, and not from the static. After a couple of breaths, he composed himself enough to say, “There are simply no words.”

“It’s okay then?” she said, pulling away enough to look up at his face.

“It’s more than okay,” he assured her. “I’m sorry you thought it wouldn’t be.”

“I just didn’t want to come across as intrusive,” she said, suddenly feeling silly at how emotional she had become.

He laughed then and kissed her forehead. “You intrude and invade my privacy every day that you are in my life. And every day that goes by, I’m surprised to say that I don’t hate it. That, my love, is why I married you.”

Mina laughed too, somehow understanding exactly what he meant.

“Now,” he said, raising up a finger and stepping away from her, “shall we continue with this invasive and emotional exchange? Because it’s feeling a little lopsided at the moment.”

“Okay,” Mina giggled, though she was eyeing him suspiciously. “Give me your worst.”

She couldn’t imagine what he could give her that would compare to her gift and was even more confused when he suddenly had a vinyl record in his hand. A very modern looking record.

“As it turns out,” he began explaining as he set the large disc down on the record player he had set aside to the left of the fireplace, “there was a singer/poet that died in 1917 that left a lot of her work unpublished. And because of all the red tape surrounding things like publishing rights and what have you, they stayed unknown to the general public for several decades. And then finally, just a few years ago, they were old enough to not have to worry about complications with copywrite infringement. And this long dead singer, who kept all these works a secret because she thought they would be too dark for people to enjoy, never got to know how much this modern world loved her.”

Mina’s heart began to pound all the way up in her ears. She thought she might be sick. There was no way, no way, those hidden works of hers would be enjoyed up on Earth. Alastor must be confused somehow.

“Anyway, this is just one record with one supposed modern version of something Mina Gallagher wrote long ago. But it was one I could easily get my hands on and supposedly it’s the most well-known cover of her work. Millions of copies of this record have been sold all over Earth.”

He snapped his fingers and the record began to scratch as he magically fast forwarded the vinyl to begin playing the song he was after.

A voice that sounded remarkably like hers, just singing a tad bit deeper than she had initially imagined the lyrics to be sung, came from the large speaker and Mina walked in a trance to a chair by the fireplace, feeling like she was in a dream as she recognized the words.

Looking up from underneath

Fractured moonlight on the sea

Reflections still look the same to me

As before I went under

And it’s peaceful in the deep

Cathedral where you cannot breathe

No need to pray, no need to speak

Now I am under all . . .

It was supposed to have been her suicide note.

A message left to the world of the perfect death she had imagined for herself, as she fell into the dark, deep embrace of the ocean. The death that had been stolen from her in a bizarre turn of events that involved an ex-lover and a black jaguar.

“Mina?” Alastor said her name, sounding very concerned by her reaction.

He had no idea what the song was about. She had never told him about her fantasy of suicide, just that she had been already nearly dead from tuberculosis when Johnathan had attacked her.

Alastor must have just thought the song was pretty, and darkly romantic, as so many of her songs were. He couldn’t have been prepared for the onslaught of emotions that she hadn’t let herself feel in so very long.

He said her name again and then reached for the record player as if to stop it but she stood up from her chair and laid her hand on his arm.

“It’s okay,” she said. “Let it play.”

She would tell him later, on another day, what the song had meant to her. But she didn’t want to spoil their afternoon together by talking about such sad business as that.

But as she listened to the song go on, as she waited for those emotions to hit her, she felt very little. All that pain and misery, of bitterness and hate she felt towards a world she believed had utterly failed her, just wouldn’t rise to the surface. The burning hot anger had faded away apparently, over many years, without her realizing it.

And the realization of that, of having moved on so completely, was the greatest gift Alastor had ever given her.

“I’m just surprised is all,” Mina tried to explain without giving away the bit of existentialism she was currently experiencing. “And this singer, she really does the song justice. I never got to sing this one myself. Lungs were too shot to Hell by the time I wrote it. How did you find all this out?”

Alastor looked relieved but then shook his head sadly. “I’m afraid I can’t tell you even half of the story, and the half that I can say right now just wouldn’t make much sense. Someday though, I promise I will.”

“You’re making lots of promises today,” she teased, and then only half joking, "are you sure you can keep them all?”  

“Hhhhmmmm,” he said with an evil grin and pulled her in, beginning to sway them both to the slow rhythm of the song. “Just try and stop me.”

___

True to his word, the next day Alastor was gone before Mina woke up. But the night before had been so remarkable, it left her feeling still quite sated and loved, more than enough to get her through the rest of the day without him.

It was a day out on the town, like they used to have when their marriage was simple and full of nothing but happiness. And when evening came, they went to dinner and then he had taken her dancing. The dance hall was one of their old favorites, a classier place for Sinners with less obvious vices and more refined tastes for what they took pleasure in. A place where manners were kept and the atmosphere less gluttonous. A place for Hell’s most dangerous demons who didn’t have to flaunt their debaucherous natures for show. Alastor and Mina had always been welcomed there and they were greeted with a warm welcome when they stepped through those doors for the first time in several years.

Alastor made a spectacle of them on the dance floor. He twirled and bent her around with moves that required skill and grace from them both, proving they hadn’t lost their touch. Then, with slower songs, he held her close, his hips doing wicked things against her, his hands either scandalously close to her breasts or low on her thighs, his breath hot and flirtatious against the skin of her neck. He never kissed her or let his touch become too brazen, but it was enough to reclaim her as his in the eyes of the public and more than enough to tease her until she was at the very edge of her restraint, ready to let him take her completely, right there on the dance floor.

When they got back to their room, they had shared a bit of the bottle of whiskey she had gotten him, playing a lover’s game of who could hold out the longest, letting their eyes linger on each other and more than a few suggestive teasing remarks were made between them.

Then he had broached the subject of the song again and despite what she had thought earlier that day about keeping the truth of it to herself a little while longer, she told him. Everything. At least, what she could remember, given how much opium she had been on in those final months of her life.

And she was still surprised at how incredibly okay she was talking about it. She didn’t cry or lose herself in the memories like she had been afraid she would. It had happened so long ago, and while the feelings those memories brought on were painful, they were overshadowed by the wonderful new life she had made for herself after death. A life she had carefully made and earned for herself. She had remade herself into something stronger than what she had been in life, and that reward was only made sweeter by the man who had then found her, pealed away her layers, and loved what he had discovered.

They made slow, drunken love after that. It was the most tender and sweetest it had been since his return, both of them finally feeling like the walls that had been keeping them apart finally crumbling into nothing. Even if Alastor still had to keep some secrets from her, Mina was finding that obstacle easier to navigate with each passing day.

And Alastor, of course, played Kassandra’s screams for her on his radio as they fell asleep together.

____

When she came down the staircase the next morning and met with the other residents in the lobby, who hadn’t even caught a glimpse of Mina since the morning before, they all looked a little confused.

“And where did you end up taking off to for the rest of the day?” Angel asked.

“Celebrating my anniversary,” she said with a proud smile but refused to say anything else on the subject.

She was in such a good mood that she even agreed to go out to the club with the others when Cheri showed up, though she turned up her nose a bit when they said they were going to a sex club. Luckily, Husker seemed just as uncomfortable with the idea as she did, and for once the two feline demons seem to agree to get along for an evening. They spent most of the night downing drink after drink on a couch away from the dance floor and sex rooms, and talking shit about the other people they were watching, until they were both pleasantly drunk.

At one point, Angel brought them a sobbing and completely langered Niffty, who then instantly perked up as she stood on their shoulders between them, calling them insulting but adorable cat-related nicknames.

“Why do I gotta entertain this shit, she’s your fucking pet,” Husk muttered, trying to be grumpy, but unable to hide the pleased look on his face as Niffty gave him a particular good scratch behind one of his ears.

“She’s not my pet, she’s Alastor’s,” Mina defended. “But I do love her just the same, so try not to be a dick about it.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he huffed, but Mina could tell he wasn’t nearly as grumpy as he was pretending to be, the little fond smile on his face as he glanced over at Niffty giving him away.

Niffty’s shoes were starting to dig into their shoulders and Mina directed her to sit down, but rather than join them on the seat like a normal person would, Niffty of course chose to sit on the back of the sofa, letting her legs dangle between them.

Then her hands shot out and she was grabbing at their ears.

“How come all the cats at the hotel have black fur? Even Keekee. Are you guys related?”

“Niffty, that’s racist,” Mina said, pulling her head away and freeing her sensitive ear from her grip but with an amused snort from Husk, they all began laughing.

Then he looked over at Mina as if just considering something. “Hey, where is Alastor anyway?”

Mina laughed into her glass, spitting the drink back as she failed to take a proper sip through her giggles.

“I have no fucking idea!” she said and broke into another fit of intoxicated laughter.

“Me neither!” Niffty shouted and joined in on the laughing hysteria.

Husker looked at the two women as if they had lost their minds, but their laughter was infectious, and after a moment, he began to laugh as well.

Later on, after she had proudly watched Angel stand up to Valentino, she made sure to make eye contact with the Overlord. He had spotted her after Niffty had assaulted him, his eyes angrily following the petite woman as she danced away.

She folded her arms and quirked an eyebrow at him, daring him to come after Niffty with her standing right there, and began laughing again when he broke eye contact and went back to his V.I.P. spot at the club.

Mina escorted Niffty towards the front door, who proudly showed off the fur she had ripped from Valentino’s jacket.

“Good for you!” Mina shouted, loud enough to Valentino to hear, and gave Niffty a high five.

Who needed redemption when life in Hell was this good?

Next Chapter ->

Author's Note: The song Alastor plays for Mina is "Never Let Me Go" by Florence and the Machine. Every other song of Mina's in this fic are original songs written by myself, but that song was just so damn perfectly Mina that it inspired a huge chunk of the first chapter she appeared in. And I feel like if there was a real Mina Gallagher, Florence Welch would have been a big fan of hers.

@inuhalfdemon @saccharine-nectarine @whoknowswhoiamtoday

[xvulpinesweetsx]

Adding on to that other ask (sorry its in two lol) mayhaps a fic, after I read in your bio that you do them? With ler Baizhu, the man has almost no content for him but like hes a doctor, right? Doctors do occasionally sometimes do things during checkups that does tkl. I love this man sm

I READ THAT AS LER BAIZHU AND LEE DOTTORE 😭😰

Ofc!! I'm so happy to get Fic requests- ignore the delay tho

I hope you don't care if I throw one of my OC's in (:3)

Her name is Elliott and she's a pottery maker and craftsman who grew up in Fontaine but moved to Liyue and has a small business. She's got mad Hu Tao mixed with Amber vibes if you get the idea. She's about as old as Hu Tao too so ofc they're besties- there's a whole friend group but I'll make a post about her if this gets enough attention.

I STRUGGLED, sry

Sniffles and Stubbornness

Ler: Baizhu

Lee: Elliot (Genshin OC)

Warning: I scrapped the first idea because it was too long- sorry if this is short and lazy 😭 Also tickles but that's expected

Plot: The stubborn Pottery worker Elliott suffers from a cold, and a certain Funeral Parlor owner alerts the local pharmacist...

Elliott was miserable.

Sneezing, sniffles- the works. She could barely make a vase without wrecking it

And of course, a certain funeral parlor girl managed to alert the minty-green haired twins over by Bubu Pharmacy to come check on her

Elliott had her head in her arms as she sat in a back area of her shop when an annoying-ly familiar voice called out from the front with the bell jingle of the door opening

"Oh Elliottttt~!"

That stupid Baizhu guy- acting like the worlds most annoying father figure. Of course the position was open for the pottery girl but still, it didn't make his stupid smirk or sass and snark with her any better

"Go away-!!"

Elliott shouted back, pushing herself up from the table to go greet the pharmacist. The girl pushed back the curtain on her archway separating the back from the front of the shop, her tired expression meeting the usual smile of the man

"Well now, is that any way to talk to your Doctor~?" Baizhu placed a hand on his hip, smirking

"What do you want.?" Elliott grumbled, giving a little sniff

"Well... A certain funeral birdie gave me a tweet someone needed help..."

"Hu Tao!? Ugh- I'm fine! It's just some sniffles, no need for any of your help here..."

Baizhu walked up to the counter, leaning over and placing his elbows on the stone

"Oh, really? She said you were having quite the sneezing fit last time she saw you..."

"That... was nothing! I'm in no need of medical services today, goodbye!!"

Elliott tried walking away, but Baizhu was quick to respond as he stood up again, crossing his arms over his chest as he continued with that stupid smile

"Ohoho- I don't believe so... Come back here"

Elliott tried to protest, only to be interrupted by a quick set of sneezes. Baizhu grinned, looking at the girl with eyes that say 'I told you so'. He walked up behind the girl, his expression a little bit more menacing now.

"Whether you like it or not... You're coming with me now-"

Elliott immediately tried dashing off to the back room, but Baizhu quickly grabbed her by the waist and picked her up like a bag of flour. His tall stature compared to her was quite apparent as she kicked her dangling legs in a desperate means of escape

"H-HAY!! LET ME DOWN!!"

Baizhu snickered, holding the wiggling girl easily

"Now now child, if you don't cooperate now you're only going to make things harder for yourself..."

"NO WAY LI-YUE! I SAID PUT ME DOW- EAK!!"

Elliott squeaked in a panic as she felt a pair of slightly cold fingers slip just underneath her blue suit. Of course this was the route Baizhu was going to take, it always was...

The doctor snickered, keeping his fingers on her sides as a slight threat with every intention of finishing the job, whether she cooperated or not...

"Well well well... That was certainly a cute sound- you mind making it again?"

He dribbled his fingers on the girls sides again, coaxing another few squeaks and giving the girl enough time to flush up and start struggling before he decided to start skittering

The girl's laughter was high pitched and squeaky as she flailed around, kicking her legs and pushing at Baizhu's arms to let her go as she leaned her head back, still giggling loudly with a few snorts mixed in there

"NOHOHOHO- LEHEHET ME GOHO!!"

"Oh, not a chance... Unless of course-"

"FIHIHINE!! IHIHILL COHOHME!!"

The girl quickly crumbled, giving in as fast as she could to escape. Luckily, the Dr took this as a sign of improvement and paused his tickles, setting her back on the ground- but holding her against him as she gathered her breath and balance back

"Now, I believe you have a promise to fulfill~?"

OKAY THATS THE END!!

Hope this was good enough, ik it was small but I went through like three different drafts and finally just pumped out this! Okey baiiii

[rodentgoth]

-Murdoc x GN!Reader

Done for anony (I'm sorry this took so fucking long🙏🏾)

Previously on:: "I cannot write a British accent to save my life and that's gonna be a problem since I have a Hobie fic in the works. "

The request was simple, but I went overboard and delayed this by so much (again Sorry) that it hurts 💀

at least I got'er done and I'd like to thank my girlie @candy12110 for helping me a bit I love you bitchhhhh!

Rating:: 18+ // Explicit

Fandom:: Gorillaz

Themes/Kinks:: Car sex . Revenge Sex(???)

They had been on tour for about a month now, and if Murdoc was being fully honest, it was boring. Not that there weren’t any fun moments, seeing your fans scream and shriek was always a delight. Getting drunk backstage with groupies, wasn’t bad either. The problem was he wasn’t getting laid. Even the birds he brought backstage weren’t putting out. It felt like he was losing his touch, until one very faithful night. 

He was knocked out in his green room. Booze, pills, and half-eaten food littered the floor. His sleep was interrupted by the sound of glass falling and shattering. Despite being awake he barely made an effort to get up, and when the old man eventually sat up,  he wasn’t at all surprised by the scene in front of him. The small window in the room was wide open and right below it was you, mumbling curses under your breath.

 Murdoc wished this was his first time experiencing this, but it wasn’t. He’d seen this exact scene over and over, tho usually by now, there would be a bodyguard or some other staff busting up your face til it bled. But He didn’t mind it, gave him the chance to get a good look at you.

“I-I’m-m So-so sorry!”You stuttered out an apology as you stood there, jittering slightly.

 He got up and slowly walked over to you, eyes still covered in craters.

Despite him being short for his age, he did tower over you. He looked down to see a strange mix of fear and excitement plastered on your face. Which he actually found kind of cute.

He kneeled down grabbing a piece of the broken glass, chuckling as he stared at it.

“This was my dad’s old scotch bottle,”

He spoke in a weirdly calm voice and glanced up at you.

The excitement you had was replaced with worry, and he was loving every bit of it.

Murdoc gently grabbed the most intact piece off of the floor, and as soon as he got back up, he threw it at you. You flinched a bit as the glass sped past and hit the wall next to you.

“Good thing I nevah’ liked the bastard!”

He shouted, returning to his normal tone of voice.

He looked back at you, your mouth was slightly agape, eyes wide, and you looked more confused than ever.

“You know it’s rude not to knock.”

He said smirking, as he kicked the rest of the broken bottle to the side.

You stared at him, looking like a puppy that had just lost its mother.

“...I-I-” You began to stammer before he finally cut in.

“Use your words, love.”

“I-I just really wanted to meet you.” You stood there fidgeting with your t-shirt.

“Well, congrats,” He walked up to you, putting his hand on your shoulder. You started to quiver a bit under his touch.

“You did it ya crazy bird!”

He congratulated, before going to sit back on the couch

For a moment you just…stood there, still quivering and shaking, not saying a single word.

“So…did ya’ just break in for a free meet and greet or,”

He spread his legs a bit showing off the beer gut he’d developed, pants unbuttoned showing the hem of his boxers.

“Did ya come for something else?”

“U-Uh well I, fu-Fuck, I actually d-did have something else I…god-d”

You continued to stammer on until he yelled out.

“Out with it, already!”

You jumped back a bit before finally blurting out what you wanted.

“I wanna have sex with you!”

Murdoc almost busted out laughing at how direct they were but managed to compose himself.

“Well, all ya had to do is ask-”

“Not here.” You interrupted 

“Okay then, where?”

He tilted his head, in a bit of confusion.

“There’s a car park not far from here, we can do it there.”

You began to turn back trying to climb back out the window when you felt a sharp nail tap your backside. You turned around to see the green man pointing towards the dressing room entrance.

“We could jus’ use the door ya know?”

He said looking up at you with a mix of concern and held back laughter. 

You responded with a simple “oh”, before hopping back down, and apologizing.

He chuckled, grabbing a coat off the costume rack, and guiding you out the room.

He guided you the rest of the way until you were both out on stage. To both your relief none of the crew seemed to notice you escape. After that, it was less than a few blocks before you were outside a parking garage connected to an office building. You grabbed his hand running by rows and rows of cars, before stopping at a black one. You went up to the car lock digging in your pocket for a bit, pulling out a hair clip. You inserted it into the keyhole and jiggled it around a bit, but you couldn’t get it open. You looked back to see Murdoc raising an eyebrow, not out of worry, but rather judgment. The type of look a pro-football coach would have after seeing their star player fall on their ass.

“Gimme that!”

He snatched the clip from you and began wiggling it in the lock, after a few seconds you heard the click of the car door opening.

He pulled the door all the way open, gesturing for you to get in first.

You hopped in and crawled into the backseat, and the older man followed.

You were quick to go in and kiss him. He barely flinched at your sudden movement, in fact, he kissed back violently. His tongue slithered deep into your throat and he was surprised by your lack of gag reflex.

After a minute of swapping spit, you broke the kiss, moving your hands down towards his crotch. Your hands fumbling with the zipper of his pants.

“So…” He began to speak, as he put his hands over yours helping with the zipper.

“Ya gonna tell me whose car this is, or is the mystery of it what gets ya off?”

After he asked, you finally managed to get the zipper down and pull off his boxers.

"It's an ex's."

You responded bluntly as you pulled down your own pants.

You pulled him closer to you and he started to line himself up with your entrance.

"He cheated on me, so I thought I'd give him the ultimate f-fuck-!" Your explanation was interrupted by a feeling of being filled. You felt yourself being stretched out, in ways you've never felt before 

You let out a symphony of moans and whimpers.

Murdoc gave you a condescending smile.

"Aww, is this ya first time?"

He asked, not even giving you a moment to answer before starting to steadily thrust in and out of you.

"Don't worry, I'll make sure it's unforgettable!"

With that, his thrusts went from slow and steady to hard and violent.

Your mind was going blank. So much was going on in your head but sweet satan did his dick made you wanna just forget. 

Forget the fact that your ex dumped you over text. 

Forget that he flaked on you every time you agreed to go out to fuck some hussy. 

Forget that you’ll probably get arrested if you get caught like this.

It was all worth it to be getting your guts rearranged like this, even if it meant getting every possible venereal disease.

A few cars drove by, some sped off without a glance, and others seemed to slow down to get a better view. You lowered yourself further until your face practically melded with the seats, before feeling a hand tangle in your hair and rip you up from your hiding place.

"What's all this about, eh? I thought ya wanted your ex to know about ya gettin’ railed in ‘is car. Can't find out if you hide that pretty face of yours."

"But-ut I-I-," 

"It's alright love, I'll help ya out.” He pulled you up further till your face was clearly visible from the back window. "Make a pretty face for all the nice people. Maybe one of them will send ‘im a picture." 

You moaned at the thought of your ex receiving a picture of you defiling his precious car and becoming the joke of the year when all his little buddies recognized you. Sad to say it turned you on more than your entire relationship ever did.

"I can't say he'll regret dumping you but he'll definitely regret ever meetin’ you,"

With one last thrust, you felt a stream of cum pump into you. At this point, you weren’t even moaning you were just howling. Eventually, you came down from your sexual high and noticed he was starting to pull out. 

“Ya know…He doesn’t get off for another 10 minutes or so…”

You said slowly pushing yourself back down onto his cock.

“You up for another round?”

Without a hint of hesitation, he began thrusting into you. He laughed before turning you around and folding your legs up to drill into you. 

"Would never say no to such a sweet request. How much do you think we can ruin his seats before he comes?"

[nerdieforpedro]

Weekend Update 03/03/2024

Hello! This update will be a bit shorter than others. Due to school and other things I haven't written or read as much as I normally do. In fact, I'll need to push back one of my series because the outline for it doesn't look right at all. 🥸 I'm feeling more moody and my smut fairy is back. Not that I can't write fluff, it's just in shorter bursts. To sum up:

Two Hearts by the Ocean will be delayed by a week or two (hopefully I can get the outline to cooperate with ideas).

Roc & Doc is updated less regularly so it's not affected.

March Spring Prompts are ongoing. I've been keeping them under 1k so shouldn't be any issues there. I did several of them ahead of time so I'm working on the last 2/3's of the month. I think. There's 10 or 11 done currently. Ugh math.

Florida Heat and Foul Play are both smut so they're safe.

Weddings 101 with Dieter should be fine as well considering what I planned for the next chapter. Not sure when it will be out.

The Lake between us is still on schedule. (Out later today I believe and then bi-monthly.)

Diddle Disco Dieter is being beta read, so maybe this week.

Follow up to a Din Djarin one shot I did still pending. It doesn't have the right feel yet.

I'm also tinkering with a Javier Pena series and a Frankie Morales series as well.

Nerdie, you think maybe, you might have too many projects?

I'm not understanding what you're saying. 😙 Or maybe I do. I have been thinking about cutting back but then my brain says, 'No. Why? It's fine. Motivation comes and goes but your need to write is forever. Also, we can't just leave these ideas in here. They'll turn into cobwebs."

We...nevermind. Carry on.

Now for what you really came for, fic recommendations! 🥰 Make sure to check warnings before you read. 😎

Hot in the Hotel by @musings-of-a-rose Dieter Bravo with himself. (The mind is a wonderful thing. Also pro tip: accents). 😍

It's Leading me on every time we Touch by @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin (Poe Dameron x f. reader)

Aquarius by @magpiepills (Javier Pena x f. reader)

Private Chef Joel by @bluemusickid (Joel Miller x plus size f reader)

Hunger by @morallyinept (Pero Tovar x f. reader)

Hush by @dincrypt (Din Djarin x reader)

En El Mar by @magpiepills (Javier Gutierrez x f reader)

En El Mar by @magpiepills (Joel Miller x f. reader)

Lie to Me by @morallyinept (Javier Pena x reader)

Night Walks by @toxicanonymity (Joel Miller x f reader)

Feel Good by @charethcutestrory02 (Frankie Morales x Benny Miller)

Keep It by @jksprincess10 (Marcus Pike x reader)

Second Chances part 1 by @pedroscurls (Marcus Pike x f reader)

To the Flame chapter 6, chapter 7 and chapter 8 by @pedroshotwifey (dark Javier Pena x f reader)

Sorry by @secretelephanttattoo (Frankie Morales x f reader)

Bat & Al’s Hidden Treasure Fic Rec List by @magpiepills and @schnarfer

Stay safe and happy reading everyone! 🤗

Love Nerdie ❤️

[marvelstoriesepic]

hiiiii bestie so about your upcoming college fic series 🤭 may I suggest a little something, which could likely work with whichever combo you end up writing - that reader is really passionate about something (can be related to her course or just a completely unrelated hobby - *cough* reading *cough*) and Bucky is actually sceretly really into this same thing. And this is eventually revealed to the reader (not immediately immediately) so it’s a revelation and a bonding point, around the time when yk, they start to acknowledge that maybe they DON’T absolutely hate each other and yeah he can be sweet and yeah I kinda enjoy her company 

- and may I also suggest my favourite example of this 🤭 that she’s a bookworm, and actually he loves reading too, and when they find this out maybe it leads to cute meet-ups where they are like let’s hang out and read together. Or that if for xyz college reason they have to be together to do smth they actually just end up reading together instead. It could be their own separate books, or could be the same book - the latter is so good for the later part of the story at the more relationship-y stage like there’s smth so soft and intimate about being cuddled up together and reading one single book together, silently or one reading aloud to the other. And reader realises that she wasn’t having as much time to read since joining college as she used to and actually Bucky is really helpful to her re this

Of course, you do not have to use any of this!!! It was just rocking around in my head so I thought I’d let you know ❤️ no pressure 🥰😘 I hope you’re having a good day my love, sending you giant hugs and kisses! <333

Hello, my darling! 🩷

I'm so sorry for the delay in getting back to you!! I've been having a bit of a hard time mentally when it comes to replying to messages and comments lately. Please know it’s never about you, and I truly appreciate your kindness and patience!

And I can’t tell you how happy it made me to see you sharing your thoughts on my upcoming series! It means so much to me that you’re excited and that you took the time to reach out. You idea is genuinely so sweet and creative, but I do think it might not quite fit into the direction I already have planned for this particular series. I also hope I'm able to keep it somewhat contained, since I’ve got a few other projects going on at the same time, and I don’t want it to grow too overwhelming.

Still, I want you to know how much I appreciate you sharing it with me!! 🩷 And please, never hesitate to pop into my inbox with ideas, rambles, or just chat about anything that is on your mind. You’re always welcome, my sweetheart 💕💕

Sending all my love your way!! 🩷💐

[quinloki]

oh god I'm so sorry for annoying you but i like the fic writer ask game thanks for your answers ☺️, i know some of my friends would envy you for having no problem/or not so much trouble finding a title for your stories. A friend of mine spends more time trying to find a title than actually writing 😂

i hope you won't mind me asking some more 👉🏻👈🏻

• pick three keywords that describe your writing

• if you had to write a sequel to a fic, you’d write one for…

• what is the longest amount of time you’ve let a draft rest before you finished it?

Not annoying at all xD If I didn't enjoy answering the ask game questions, I wouldn't put 'em on my dash =3

Three key words that describe my writing? Ah. hm.

Flirty. Funny. Kinky - I hope at least xD

If I had to write a sequel to a fic I'd write one for... Family Ties, probably. I have some ideas for things I can do. (I have book 2s planned for a couple other fics already so I'm not leaning on those XD I'm trying to plan this year in such a way I can spend Next Year working on nothing but sequels, honestly).

What's the longest amount of time you've let a draft rest before you finished it?

I... don't really know how to answer this one. I post chapter by chapter, and I don't intentionally let a chapter rest. I am Super Awful Bad about sitting on a finished bit. Once I'm done writing it, I'm having the read-back function read it to me so I can find *most* of the editing needs, and then I post it ^^;

The only thing that delays any given work is the constraints of time XD So even if something sits it's not cause I'm meaning to let it rest.

Asks for fic writers

[altschmerzes]

Can’t wait for your two aces story. Any updates you want to/can share??

i'd LOVE to talk about the two aces fic at literally any point. it's so dear to my heart, i love it. at the moment i'm making good progress trekking through it and contemplating if i want to leave it as a oneshot or if i want to split it into chapters bc it's already close to 6k and i've just got a few scenes done and some drafting for some others! it's gonna be pretty long lmao, which is the story of my life. not gonna be HUGE like some of my fics end up being but it's gonna be long enough and have enough distinct beats that i'm thinking about splitting it.

we've got the initial presentation of the situation, jamie and dani getting used to living together and finding a new status quo in that bc of their injuries and how to help each other with the things they can't do (for example the initial moment where they decide to sleep in the same bed is related to dani's shoulder injury and the way he keeps rolling onto it in the night), exploration of their relationship getting deeper and getting into the big things they're afraid of that are holding them back from being physically/emotionally vulnerable with each other (they both have a Big Fear that's causing them trouble here), and then the realization that because of their healing progression they can go back to normal soon and deciding that like. actually we don't want this to go back to normal, we want to stay like this, we want to be each other's Person and have this relationship be A Relationship (nonromantic) intentionally. so there's some different beats, and might be worth splitting?

idk. sorry i'm just thinking out loud in answer to this ask now i hope this is interesting slkdfjs

here's a clip from it, too! it's from very early on, i've posted a few lines from it but it's a bit of a longer scene. dani's phone charger got stuck behind his bed and he can't reach it bc his shoulder is all messed up so jamie's going to get it while dani's making breakfast in the kitchen, this is before they're living together

Jamie has just managed to close his hand around the distant and illusive cord of the charger and is scooting back along the mattress in his awkward shuffle around the awkward bulk of his twice-braced leg when he hears a loud crash and a sharp curse from the kitchen. Instantly, before he’s even fully processed what he’s heard, his body goes rigid. His heart leaps into his throat and his shoulders and the back of his neck seize up so tight they ache immediately. Sudden, loud sounds in homes have never meant anything good for him. It’s only once the initial panic, the kind that says run, run, find somewhere to hide, be quiet and still and get as close as you can get to disappearing, has been hushed and dismissed and reminded that it’s an outdated and unnecessary instinct that another, different kind of panic takes over. Dani, Jamie thinks, and his heart lurches all over again. This is a new sort of fear, hot and trembling, like there’s a little bird in his chest beating its wings frantically, trying to get out. Oh fuck, Dani. Getting up off the bed is difficult and cumbersome but Jamie goes as quick as he can with the use of only one leg. He fumbles for his crutches and leans on them too heavily when he stands, but he doesn’t care that it hurts a bit. The ache of the way the padded tops dig uncomfortably under his arms and how the plastic of the handholds are an odd, wrong shape are far from Jamie’s mind as he hobbles towards the kitchen, going so quickly that he could probably win some kind of guys-on-crutches race if such a thing existed. “Dani,” he calls as he goes, and then, louder, “Dani, man, y’alright? What happened?” “Yes, Jamie, fine,” is the slightly delayed answer, delivered moments before Jamie rounds the corner and comes into sight of the kitchen. The first thing that Jamie notices is the floor. It’s made of a light, slate grey tile pattern that he thinks is neat, studded through with the odd yellow or silvery tile. The effect is cool and modern with a touch of brightness and fun, but at the moment the whole thing is rather ruined by the way there’s a scattering of broken class and blueberries disrupting the pattern. In the soft, warm glow of the overhead lights, the glass glitters and the blueberries shine like tokens to be collected in a video game. The round metal lid of what had once been some kind of jar glints innocently by the sink. (Dani had put in the new, gently toned lights recently, swapped the bulbs a few weeks before the season started. He’d done it after he noticed Jamie kept squinting and wincing under the harsher white light every time he was in Dani’s kitchen. He’d gone and replaced all of them, even though Jamie had insisted it was fine, it was dumb to change things in Dani’s house just because he had a weird problem about lights. Dani had looked at him like Jamie was the dumb one and shook his head and told him they are just lightbulbs, Jamie, and that had been the end of it.) And then, in the middle of it all, the glass and the blueberries and the tile floor and the lovely lights, there’s Dani. He’s standing by the counter, leaning back against it with his good arm, and there’s just enough time for Jamie to catch a glimpse of the intense frustration creasing his face before he looks up and over and it’s wiped away. All that’s left behind is a smile. It’s a good smile, it looks good, happy and friendly like Dani’s smiles do, but there’s something about it that makes Jamie feel uneasy. Well, no. Not uneasy. That word is too… That’s not right. It’s hard to imagine anything that Dani could do with his face that would make Jamie feel truly uneasy. Concerned, then. Concerned is the right word. “Sorry,” Dani says with an apologetic shrug of his left shoulder. “My hand slipped and I dropped the jar.”

[krirebr]

6, 13, 18

also, do you have any recommendations for new fics you’ve read recently? I’m in desperate need of a new series to start

Hello, dear! Sorry there was a little bit of a delay on this. Thank you for sending these!!

6. Are there any fics from others you reread all the time? I don't know about all the time, cause there's always so much great new stuff coming out! But there are definitely ones I've reread. Honey Not Vinegar by @biteofcherry is the first that came to mind for this. That just scratches all my dark Alpha Steve itches in the best way.

13. How much planning do you do before writing? Almost none! 😂 I definitely write by the seat of my pants. The first part in a series especially. For IKISKB, sometime between chapters 2 & 3, I kind of figured out the broad framework for the rest of the story and how many parts there would be. For More Than This, I sort of know what's happening through part 9ish, in the broadest strokes but after that 🤷‍♀️ I really like letting the characters lead me if the story goes along, if that makes any sense. I so admire the people who can sit down and outline the whole thing. I think that's incredible. My brain just can't deal with that kind of structure.

18. What’s one of your favorite lines you’ve written in a fic? Oooohhhh, that's so hard! I don't feel like I'm a very poetic writer, so sometimes it's hard for me to pinpoint individual lines that I like. But I am particularly proud of Part 2 of IKISKB and there are lots of lines in that that I like. Like this one:

You tried to think of him as just the wall of muscles that protected you from the world, but it was getting harder every day to ignore the ineffable Curtis-ness of him. He was so much, too much.

Fan Fic Writer Asks

Ok, now for some recs!

The Root of All Ransom by @ronearoundblindly - Have you read this??? It is so so good. If you want an angsty Ransom forced to confront his shortcomings while falling in love in spite of himself, you really can't get much better than this. It is seriously so, so good. I read it a few months ago and I still think about it all the time.

Pound Town by @stargazingfangirl18 - I can't imagine you follow me and don't already follow Siri, but if you haven't already checked out her incredible take on omegaverse, do it now! It will take over your brain.

Garbage Men AU by @thezombieprostitute - This is such a fun take on a mafia AU. Plus, it's got plenty of my beloved, underrated Mace. Really fun and lots to swoon over here. Highly recommend!

Thank you for the ask nonnie! 💜💜

[neaxsfiction]

AHH UR FICS ARE SO AMAZING❤️ IM OBSESSED 😍 PLS COULD U DO LEAGE OF VILLAINS HAVING A CRUSH ON A HERO THAT THEY FOUGHT OR JUST HAVING A CRUSH IN GENERAL! THANK UUU ❤️❤️❤️

I was waiting for an LOV one!! Some slight angst ahead. I love the idea a lot oh my... thanks for your request ❤️ also I'm sorry this isn't as good as the previous ones and for the delay, I was suffering with writer's block😭

~

LOV having a crush on you

~

Shigaraki

Having a crush to a hero? So difficult man. However there's something about you that triggered something in him. Was it the friendly eyes you gave your colleagues? Was it that kind smile you gave to evey civilian you saved? I don't even know.

He did some research on you firstly. For sure he cannot approach you, as he's a very known villain. He denies the thought of the crush (and especially to a hero) like there's no tomorrow, but the more he avoids to face his feelings, the more they burn.

He eventually keeps an eye on you and tells his minions to not touch you at any cost, unless they want to turn to dust. He keeps fantasizing about a world where he can approach you, you aren't a hero and he isn't a villain. You're just two people who happen to meet and hugs his pillow to sleep at night pretending it's you.

The turth is that you make him hate heroes even more. In his mind, if your kind didn't even exist, he wouldn't have suffered this much and he wouldn't be a villain now. This crush of his is making him rethink of his decisions which hurts him even more as he doesn't like the way things are right now.

In the end, he just stays for the one sided love. He makes himself believe that in real life you're not what you look like, and prefers to keep the crush on the idea of you.

Maybe that's the best for him

~

Dabi

When he'd attack, he'd do it in a way so he causes the chaos before the heroes would arrive. He's amazing at battling with that quirk of his, it just doesn't happen often.

However one day he was scaring off some civilians and you happened to pass by. You immediately recognized him. You had to save the civilians, of course.

Dabi though, isn't a normal villain after all. He managed to escape right under your nose, while you were ensuring the safety of the civilians and poof! He was gone.

Truth is that he didn't even think of you for some time. The first time he thought about you was when he was laying on the small bed in his room staring at his phone and his eyes caught your face on some article.

He then started analyzing your face for the first time noticing every detail he could through the screen. Of course he could've done that back when he first met you, if he didn't need to escape in order to get arrested.

He liked your appearance and as he kept trying to remember more details about you, he liked you even more. He'd never admit that, having a crush on a hero (and maybe generally having a crush). However one thing he'd never admit is how he lost his sleep after he realised he liked you. He tried of thinking you as a bad hero for letting him escape, but he failed.

He then started stalking you. Learning from your birth name to what kind of socks you prefer to wear. He was quite amazed. He was dreaming about you, but would hide it so so so much.

Eventually he pushes himself to fight his feelings for you. He tries to forget you and manages to put his feelings under control. Having a crush and especially on a hero, is hopeless.

~

Toga

Toga literally attacked you when she first met you.

"Come on you're so cute~" She said before you escaped her knife.

She literally likes you so much. Her sense of love is strong for you, even if it's you know, a bit twisted.

She keeps talking to the other members about you, to the point they're sick of hearing your name. But what else can they do?

She has a little diary and keeps drawing doodles of her and you (mostly her stabbing you but anyways, we don't talk about that). She even uses her favorite gel pens for that.

She tries to hunt you down for some time to confess to you but the guys stop her. They try to comfort her saying that a crush on a hero is stupid, but they fail miserably.

Toga cries herself to sleep many nights at the thoughts of you not reciprocating her feelings. She thinks the world is unfair that you can't even think of her that way because you're a hero.

She never actually gets over that crush on you but tries to keep it subtle, however you can find doodles of you two all over her notebook.

~

Twice

Twice had met them in a local bar he used to go for a while now. He approached them and introduced himself as Jin, and his extrovert self slowly was shown to them.

Truth is, he doesn't introduce himself like that to every person. He showed his bubbly personality to you from the start and even treated you some drinks that night.

He liked your company a lot. However he almost lost his colour when you told him you're a pro hero. He excused himself and explained that it mustve been the alcohol. That night he cried himself to sleep and had Toga comfort him.

His insecurities rise and the thoughts of you discovering he's a villain drive him insane. He thinks life is more unfair now. He cries to Toga about you who seems to be very understanding of the situation.

At some point though, he doesn't want to have Toga comfort him all the time so he just creates a clone of himself and talks to him about you (both clones eventually end up crying together)

~

shigaraki pic , dabi pic , toga pic , twice pic (edited it a bit)