#THANK YOU FOR PRODUCING YET ANOTHER PIECE OF WRITING!

[narutocharacterpolls]

ANOTHER ONE FROM OUR WONDERFUL CHADSUKE! EVERYONE SAY THANK YOU CHASUKE!!!! Absolutely go give this a read, they’re an incredible writer! I’m so excited to read this!

my uchiha!sakura drabble AU is finished!!! please go vote sasuke in the @narutocharacterpolls!! i'm updating all my sasuke fics to get ppl to vote for him please please

[greengoblinswifey]

i was the one that asked if you writw dark stuff. and tysm for replying, you are so incredibly sweet💕🎀

So, could you write a dark fanfic with Nicholas or Father Charlie (you choose lol) with noncon and maybe dv? like, reader meets him and one of her family members owns him something and he like? uses her instead? if thats okay, could u do it rlly darkkk?

tysm and ily!!! 💕💞

Nicholas Chavez x Fem!Reader

summary— your father fucked nicholas over and he kidnaps you to get his payback.

warnings— EXPLICIT CONTENT. kidnapping, manipulation, extreme degrading, praise kink, face slapping, male masturbation, crying kink, face fucking, CNC, unprotected sex, knife play, death threats, violence, bondage, mentions of bruises, choking, double penetration with knife handle, anal, breeding kink, stockholm syndrome.

a/n— i think this is quite…dark and thank you🫶🏽hope you guys enjoy, def stepped out of my comfort zone for this, requests are open!

Nicholas had always known your father was a powerful man, a producer and director with the kind of influence that could turn anyone into a Hollywood legend. They had made a deal, Nicholas would land two starring roles that would launch his career to the next level. The first film had given him some visibility, but no real money, thanks to your father’s manipulation of the contract. The second role was supposed to be his ticket to true fame and fortune. But then, it all fell apart. Your father broke his promises, cutting Nicholas out in favor of his own friend, Cooper Koch. Worse yet, he’d seized some of Nicholas' property as “leverage” during the filming, draining him financially and leaving him furious and betrayed.

Your father had underestimated just how deep Nicholas’ anger would run. He wanted what was rightfully his, and if he couldn’t get it through negotiations or agreements, he’d find another way. That’s when he learned about you—the daughter your father doted on, especially since the loss of his only son, your older brother, who was meant to be the family heir. But Nicholas wasn’t here for empathy. He wanted revenge, and he knew exactly how to get it.

You agreed to go on a date with Nicholas, the rising star you had met and grown fond of, without a second thought. But as you sat in his car, something felt off. He was silent, his gaze hard as he gripped the steering wheel, ignoring your attempts at small talk.

“Where are we going?” you asked, noticing that he’d missed the turn toward the restaurant.

He didn’t answer right away, his jaw clenched tightly. Finally, he murmured, “Change of plans.”

You felt a prickle of unease and glanced around, trying to piece together where he might be headed. The buildings grew sparse, and the trees thickened on either side of the road, casting shadows as the sun dipped lower. “This doesn’t look like the way to any restaurant,” you said, your voice faltering.

He turned to you, eyes cold. “It’s not.”

A chill ran down your spine. Panic set in as he accelerated, the car speeding down a winding road that led into the dense woods. “Nicholas, stop the car,” you demanded, reaching for the door handle, but he locked it before you could react.

He didn’t look at you, but his voice dropped to a menacing whisper. “You think your father can cross me and get away with it? That he can just toss me aside like I’m nothing?” His grip on the wheel tightened. “This isn’t a date, sweetheart. This is payback.”

Your heart pounded as you pulled at the door, the lock refusing to budge. “You don’t have to do this! Whatever he did-”

“He took everything from me,” Nicholas snarled, his eyes darkening as he drove deeper into the woods. “Everything I worked for. The fame, the fortune, my properties, my pride. And now? I’m taking something from him.”

In a desperate attempt to escape, you kicked at him, your fists pounding against his arm. He barely flinched, his focus unbreakable as he finally pulled up to a secluded cabin, hidden by towering trees and thick brush. You barely had time to scream before he leaned over, his hand covering your mouth.

“Quiet,” he hissed, his voice cold as he tightened his grip. “You’re going to make this harder on yourself sweetheart.”

With a swift motion, he hit a spot on the side of your head, and darkness began to cloud your vision. The last thing you saw before losing consciousness was his dark gaze.

When you woke, your hands were bound to a bed frame in a dimly lit room, and your head throbbed. The dim light filtered through the cracks in the cabin walls, casting eerie shadows. He was there, leaning against the doorframe, watching you with a look that was almost satisfied.

“Comfortable?” he asked mockingly, tilting his head.

You struggled against the ropes, glaring at him. “You’re fucking insane! My father won’t just let this slide!”

He laughed, the sound sharp and humorless. “Your father will do exactly what I want, or he’ll never see you again.”

As you struggled against the ropes, glaring at him. “My father won’t stand for this. He’ll ruin you,” you spat, words filled with venom. “You think your career’s over now? It’s nothing compared to what he’ll do when he finds out what you’ve done.”

His smirk faded, his gaze darkening. In a flash, he crossed the room, sending a chill through you. He leaned down, his face mere inches from yours as his hand struck yours with force, the impact whipping your head to the side.

��Careful with that fucking attitude,” he hissed, his voice low and dangerous. “If you want to get through this in one piece, you’d better be a good little girl and play along.” His mouth curled into a mocking smile as he added, “Maybe I’ll let you go if you can manage that.”

A spark of hope flickered across your burning face, but his mocking laugh snuffed it out. “Oh, don’t look so hopeful,” he sneered. “I own you now. The sooner you accept that, the easier this will be for you.”

The next few days, Nicholas seemed almost amused by your resistance, feeding off your energy as he reminded you just how little control you had. You played along in the way he wanted you to, letting him hold you close as he told you about the disgusting things he wanted to do to you and your father and whatever other sick games he had in mind. Whenever he would see you cry and resist him, your acrylics digging in his back and leaving welts, you noticed the prominent bulge it left in his pants.

One morning, he threw down a newspaper, its headline blaring the news of your disappearance and the national search underway. Your father’s influence had reached every corner of the country, and law enforcement was relentless. Nicholas caught your glance, raising an eyebrow with a smirk. “Guess Daddy dearest is worried,” he taunted, feigning innocence. “How touching.”

You burst into tears, unable to hold it in any longer, you missed your father and you wanted to be away from the psycho standing in front of you. He laughed in your face, slowly taking out his impressively long and hard cock, pumping it as you cried harder. Disgust filled you as you watched him moan the harder you cried. He was getting off to your pain and somehow—deep inside, watching him get off to you turned you on.

“Keep fucking crying sweetheart, you’re gonna make me cum so hard.” Disgusted, you turned your head away, refusing to look at the sight before you but he just chuckled. You opened your eyes feeling the bed dip and you looked up at him, seeing him with his cock above you.

“Open your fucking mouth,” he growled, his stroking become more frantic.

“You’re disgusting,” you spat. He stopped stroking his dick to slap you in the face with it, earning a soft whimper. Obeying him, you opened your mouth, squeezing your eyes shut at the man before you shoved his length into your mouth, thrusting, before he shot his load down your throat.

“Fucking hell, that’s a good fucking whore, take all my cum,” he groaned, grabbing a fistful of your curls and bucking his hips.

As soon as he let you go, your head snapped to the side, shame filling you.

Nicholas leaned in, his expression cold. “You’re mine now,” he said, his voice steady and unyielding. “You’ll make up for every single thing your father took from me. And once I’m done, once I’ve taken back what’s rightfully mine, he’ll be begging for my mercy.”

You glared back, forcing yourself to hold his gaze despite the fear tightening in your chest. “You’re delusional if you think you can control me or him,” you said, your voice shaking with defiance.

Nicholas laughed, unphased. “We’ll see. By the time I’m finished, you won’t even want to go back to that man.” He leaned in closer, lowering his voice. “Because I’n going to break you like a bitch and you’ll be begging to stay with me.”

He watched your expression, almost amused, as you struggled to maintain your composure. “You’ve done well so far, taking my cock down your throat,” he continued, his tone dark but oddly approving. “Maybe it’s time I marked you as mine.”

You swallowed, your mind racing. No matter how much you fought, the lines between fear and something you didn’t want to admit were beginning to blur. He seemed to sense it, a satisfied smirk crossing his face as he leaned back, leaving you to confront the uncertainty.

A gasp left your lips as he gripped your throat, tearing your dress off you. He was a predator and you were his prey. His eyes scanned your almost bare body, licking his lips as you quivered in fear. If your hands weren’t bound to the bed you would’ve tried concealing yourself.

“Please stop,” you whimpered.

“Shut the fuck up,” he snapped, “don’t make me gag you, better yet I won’t, I want to hear you beg me to stop then I want to hear your little moans when you realize I’m making you feel good.”

Your lips quivered as you fought back tears, refusing to give him the satisfaction he wanted.

“Now, I’m going to untie you and you’re going to take off your underwear like a good little bitch. If you try anything stupid, I’ll fucking kill you, understood?” he said, reaching for your wrists.

Slowly, you nodded, the threat rising fear inside you but a sharp smack to the face jolted you. “I said do you fucking understand me?”

“Y-yes Nicholas.”

He untied your wrists, and you looked down to see them black and blue. Slowly, you carried out his request, only having to take off your underwear as you unfortunately went to the ‘date’ not wearing a bra.

“Now spread those legs.”

A soft whimper left your lips and you complied, knowing exactly what the psycho would do to you if you refused. “Good girl.” He reached for the bedside table, taking out a sharp knife from the drawer. “Now, once again, if you think of doing anything stupid, I’ll slit that pretty throat and still fuck it.”

He held the knife lightly against your throat, his fingers dipping between your legs as you trembled. “If you’re so fucking scared and I’m a psycho, why are you soaked? Why the fuck are you wet?”

Shame overtook you, and you squeezed your eyes shut, just wanting it all to be over. You thought about your father, your dead brother, anything to take your mind off what was about to happen.

“It’s gonna be okay princess, I’ll take good care of you if you take good care of me.” He knelt on the bed, making sure you were mouth level with his cock. “It’s time to take good care of me, open up that mouth and I swear to god if you use teeth, I’ll use the knife to knock out every last one of them.”

Reluctantly, you opened your mouth, and he slowly pushed his big cock into it. Your mouth was wide open and you were gagging on it, trying your best to breathe. He began snapping his hips forward, his cock continuously going down your throat and through it all, he kept the knife pressed against your throat.

“Fuck, you really have a mouth on you,” he chuckled, “you’re suck a good cock sleeve, I’m going to enjoy using you like the whore you are.”

His thrusts became rougher and you could hardly breathe and soon, he held you by your curls, pushing your head all the way down until your nose was on his pubes. “I’m gonna cum bitch, swallow my fucking load, don’t let it go to waste.”

You couldn’t even spit it out if you wanted to. He released down your throat, the action making you cough around his dick as he made sure to milk every drop inside your mouth. “You did so good for me baby, I know you’re enjoying this.”

You shivered as he used the cold handle of the knife, rubbing it up and down your folds. Shame bubbled inside you as you heard the unmistakable sound of squelching noises telling you exactly how soaked you were.

“What a disgusting slut, your pussy is practically gushing for me, are you seriously enjoying this?” You looked away embarrassed, heat rising in your cheeks.

A gasp left your lips as you felt the handle sink into your pussy. “Nicholas, please, no,” you begged, disgusted at the sight below you.

“What the fuck did I tell you? Shut the fuck up!” he screamed at you.

Your pussy clenched around the handle as he began fucking you with it faster, the pain soon subsiding and being replaced by pleasure. Trying to hold back your moans seemed futile as he began rubbing your clit and the handle hit a certain spot inside you.

“You’re getting off on this? Fuck, you’re much more of a whore than I thought. If you cum on the knife’s handle I’ll know for sure you were just asking for my cock, you’re fucking asking for it,” he chuckled, darkly.

Hearing his words, you pressed your lips together, containing your moans and trying your hardest not to cum. He only chuckled at your attempts, the handle speeding up inside you and the squelching noises becoming louder and louder. You wished you were deaf in that moment, at least you wouldn’t have to endure the shame of knowing being manhandled by your kidnapper was turning you on.

“Cum for me whore, I know you want to, you won’t be able to stop yourself forever.” Your body betrayed you and as soon as the words left his lips, you soaked his hand and the handle inside you.

“Oh my fucking god, you’re disgusting,” he laughed, looking down at his soaked hand, “did you really just squirt from me fucking you with a knife blade?”

It felt like your world was crumbling as he laughed mockingly and your pussy twitched, slowly gushing.

“Well then, that was easy, I think you’re ready for this big, fat cock to fuck that tight pussy.” He dragged you by your legs, pulling you flat on your back and rubbed the tip up and down your pussy.

“Nicholas, you don’t have to do this, my father will give you back everything he took, I promise. Y-you can let me go, please, I won’t tell.”

“Oh shut up,” he said, slapping you on the mouth, “you don’t get it do you? I own you now. You’re mine. He took everything away from me and I’ll take and use you instead.”

Not giving up, you tried to beg more, “Please don’t, I’m begging you.”

“If you didn’t want me to fuck you, you wouldn’t have squirted for me. You wouldn’t have been soaked like a whore from my touch. Surely you want this, surely your body knows you better than your dumb little brain does. Just lay there and take it, you’ll like it.”

Maybe he was right. If you didn’t want it, why else would you have been wet? Why did you cum? Your body would’ve refused him. Maybe this wasn’t so bad, maybe he just wanted to make you feel good like he did before.

A scream erupted as he pushed his thick cock inside you, giving you no time to adjust. “That’s it bitch, scream for me.”

Your gasps and screams grew louder as he began pounding into you, the bed frame smacking against the wall and your tits bouncing. He took up the knife and traced it along your jaw, admiring how you looked taking him. He brought it down to your tits, increasing his pace and making you moan and scream even louder for him. The intensity of it all was unbearable and you could already feel the impending orgasm.

“I need you to remember you’re nothing but a pussy for me to fuck, a cock slut. You feel so fucking good clenching around my dick.”

He began using the wet handle to rub your clit and you knew it was over for you. Gripping on to his toned biceps, your jaw fell open, loud moans leaving you as you came all over his raw cock inside you. Curse him for not at least using a condom.

“That’s it, let it all out, let out those slutty moans too. You should be a bitch in porn with the way you squirt and moan,” he laughed breathlessly.

He swiftly flipped you onto your back, but instead of pulling your ass up to him, he pressed a bit of his body weight onto you as you lay flat on the bed, slipping his cock inside your pussy once more.

“Spread your pussy for me,” he demanded.

He began pounding into you as you shamefully had your hands on your ass spreading yourself for him. “You should see just how wet you are, but I’m sure hearing it tells you all you need to know.”

You felt so full with him pressing down on you, thrusting roughly, having no regard for the mix of pain that accompanied the pleasure. But, deep down, you were enjoying it. You enjoyed the way he manhandled you, the way he spoke to you like you were nothing, the way he was fucking you like you were just a flesh light.

“Oh god your pussy is just sucking me in, clenching so tightly around me, cum for me again bitch.”

Unable to spread your pussy for him any longer, you gripped the sheets as you came hard around his cock. He continued fucking you through your high, making sure you felt everything. Making sure you knew who was fucking you and who gave you such an intense orgasm.

“My turn. I’m gonna cum inside you, breed this pussy. You’re gonna be all swollen and pregnant, then that baby is gonna be my lucky ticket to yours and your father’s fortune,” he laughed.

“Please, no, I can’t— I’m not on birth control,” you cried out.

“Oh fuck, do you feel my cock throbbing? That’s even better.”

Your protests proved futile and he filled you to the brim. The warm feeling of his load inside you making you moan in content.

“See? You’re just a slutty bitch who likes getting her pussy fucked. You know what else needs to be fucked? That tight little ass.”

Horror spread across your face. No one had ever fucked you in the ass before. He spat on your asshole then used your juices and his cum from your pussy to lubricate it, pushing it in with his fingers. You winced at the unusual intrusion. He continued fingering your ass, shoving the lubricants inside and prepping you for his cock.

“Couldn’t stop looking at that tight asshole when you were spreading for me. I just had to have it. You were practically begging for it.”

Maybe he was right, why else would you have spread yourself? Of course he would’ve seen your tight ass and wanted to fuck it too. How could you be so stupid?

“Get ready bitch.”

“Please—”

Your pleads fell on deaf ears and he pulled your ass up to him, pressing his hand into your back so you could arch for him. Slowly, his big cock began slipping inside your ass, inch by inch. He was more generous with it than your pussy.

“Fuck baby, this ass is so fucking tight, I know for goddamn sure I’m the first to fuck you in it.” He was right.

He began pounding harder as your ass opened up for him. You felt so full, you didn’t know you could feel more full until he pushed the handle of the knife into your pussy.

“Oh my god,” you moaned, the intensity making you see stars. All that was in your head was pleasure and cumming again.

“There she is, that’s my girl,” he beamed, “now bounce that ass back on my cock and this knife.”

Obeying immediately, you bounced your ass back. Your moans were so loud, the whole woods could probably hear. You didn’t care anymore. You couldn’t deny how good he was making you feel, how he was hitting all the right spots inside you. His thrusts met your ass and he rammed the handle inside your pussy over and over.

“Squirt for me baby, squirt and I’ll fill this ass up.”

You nodded frantically, still throwing your ass back to him and you screamed, your orgasm overtaking you like you’ve never felt before.

“Good girl, that’s my bitch, now beg, beg for me to cum inside your ass.”

“Please, fuck— please cum inside my ass, I need you to, please do it,” you begged.

He smirked, throwing the knife on the bed and slapping your ass as he groaned loudly, his load spurting in your ass. He held you in place and soon pulled out, watching as his cum leaked out of both your holes. He ruined you. You were his.

As he pulled out and fell beside you, you instinctively snuggled into his side, a million degrading thoughts running through your head.

[lilacprincess7]

hi!! good luck with your exams <3 i had to send this request in case i forgot it haha

can you write something about 7-9-14 from the fluff/ angst with pedri

maybe the reader is a model/actress and she doesn't tell him so as not to worry him but he hears it from the media/his friends to see her with a bandage on her leg and something

sorry for mistakes english is not my first language!!

"Runway stress"

summary: in which you hurt your ankle after trying out some high heels of a new designer and everything goes wrong

prompts: 'I'm coming to get you stay there' x 'We need to change your bandages soon' x 'Hey... HEY don't move too much you haven't healed yet'

a/n: this is so cute as an idea, thank u for the req and the wishes!, not throwing any shade to gucci or anything I just liked the pic

warnings: hurt ankle, bandages, idk what else, mentions of Y/n (Y/n/n means your nickname)

It was supposed to be just another day at work. Key word: supposed. Your manager, Jemma, she had called you in to talk about a new brand deal, see if you were intrested and try out a fw pieces they sent as a PR gift.

You knew nothing of the brand, its designers or any other models associate with them but you didn't pay much attention, although it was quite odd. Those were the thoughts running through your mind as you entered the building your team worked in.

"Jemma, I'm here girl, where are you?" you asked,

"Backstage Y/n/n" you heard her shout

Half an hour later you were ready to try out what must be considered as an entire collection of the brand. You took your time going through everything they sent over. Dresses, skirts, shirts, jackets, bags. It had been at least five hours during which Jemma, Emmy -your main photographer-, Pauline -your make-up artist-, Maria -your content producer- and Sofia -your hair stylist- were sitting on the couches of the try-out room and watched you do a mini runway.

They always helped you make such decisions. Different factors always shown on those conversations. Jemma was more concerned about your part of the deal. Pauline and Sofia made sure you chose deals that associated your name with the aesthetics, the high-end tailors. Emmy and Maria took into account how you were porteyed. All of them always cared about you as a person and made sure you were comfortable.

Right now though, comfort had left the chat. The moment you started walking with those heels on disaster struck. You were always the opposite of clumsy, so to say the girls were shocked to see you twist you ankle and fall so messily on the floor was a worrying sight.

"Ahh fuck... it hurts.. it hurts so bad... hmm" these were some stiletos straight from hell for sure.

Jemma, ever the collected one, fetched some ice.

"I think it's swelling a bit. Maybe we should take you to a hospital..." Maria expressed

"I think a quick scan is the best. It could get worse if it's a serious injury and we didn't take care of it properly... Besides, Pedri is going to be pissed if he learns we didn't take care of his woman..." Pauline continued

Sofia helped you sit on the couch while Jemma helped you out of those awful shoes. The girls helped you change quickly and took you to the hospital for an x-ray.

To say your friends were overeacting was minimal. The moment your ankle twisted, yes you admitted it hurt. Right now though, a good two hours after, you couldn't feel something problematic. Your foot moved normaly and without any pain.

None the less, the doctors confirmed through the x-ray that it wasn't broken or fractured. It was just a bit damaged. They said that you should just be cautious for the next couple of weeks and that if you felt it getting worse to come back for a check-up.

You left the with a bandaged ankle but wearing both shoes. You decided that your boyfriend was best kept in the dark about this. He would babysit you constantly and you couldn't deal with that right now.

Unfortunately, luck had other plans for you. In the entrance of the hospital stood none other than Ferran. Great. Just great. How were you gonna cover this one up?

"Hey Y/n, everything okay?"

"Yeah, just a check up you know? You?"

"My cousin gave birth last night and I'm waiting to see her and my niece!"

"Ohh, I'm happy for you! Give her my wishes!" you replied as you walked slowly to your car that Jemma had driven here.

"Will do!" he responded and headed inside.

You thought you had managed to hide the injury pretty good but you ended up being wrong. The first thing Ferran did upon re-entering the hospital was to call Pedri.

"Pedrito!"

"Tirburon!"

"Mi amigo, what happened to your girl?"

"What do you mean?"

"I saw her in the hospital. She was limping and I could see a bandage covering her ankle. Albeit, she was hiding it quite a bit, I still saw."

"I don't know what happened but I'm coming to pick her up. Thanks shark"

"Any time.. Got to go! See ya tomorrow!"

"Yep, thanks again"

"Don't mention it!"

And at that they hang up.

"What do you think you are about to do? Tell me baby..." he said as you picked up the phone

"Wha-at do you mean?" you played dump, both of you knew.

"Baby, I know your injured. Please just please let me get you home. You shouldn't drive."

"I admit I shouldn't drive. You are right."

"I'm coming to get you, stay there amor"

"Okay, okay. I'm waiting for you..."

You were completely right about your boyfriend's behaviour. The moment he saw your ankle bandaged up, he decided that until you were back to full health he would help you with everything.

Don't get me wrong. He was really sweet and what he did actually helped. He got you to lean on him so you wouldn't have to put to much weight or limp your way around the house. You admitted thougth that he was kind of restless due to the matter.

That same night, both of you had trouble falling asleep. Him because he was anxious about your foot and you because he wouldn't stop moving.

"Pepi...why are you movin' so much..?" you asked groggily, barely awake

"I can't sleep amor.." he admitted as he turned around to look at you, the light of the moon hitting you in the face, making you look every bit of the goddess you were.

"Why? Are you feeling okay?" you questioned him, wanting to make sure of his well-being

"I'm not okay... because you are not okay and I don't know how to help... and I feel useless"

You leaned in towards him but winced a bit from the movement.

"Hey... HEY don't move too much you haven't healed yet, amor be careful"

"Shh Pepi, it's fine. It's something minor not something you should lose sleep over...come on lean on me and relax. I'm fine and I'll wake you up if I need anything I promise..."

With a sign, he leaned closer to you and let his head fall in the crook of your neck. He still waited until you fell asleep to close his eyes but you could feel that he had eased up and that he was calm enough to fall asleep himself.

When next morning rolled around, he was much the same anxious ball of tame protectiveness.

"Hermosa.. we need to change your bandages soon"

"I know guapo, I know. Let me shower first and then we will change them"

"There is no way you are showering with that ankle. At least not on your own..."

"I like that preposition Pepi" you teased, knowing there was no way he would agree while you were hurt, even though it was in no way connected.

"Don't let such ideas on your head amor, we will actually just shower..."

"Okay okay, lead the way.." you said as a smile blossomed on your lips.

He was so attentive to your every need. So caring, so calm about it all. So level-headed. He knew exactly how to help, what to do and what not to do. You fell even more in love with him because of it.

[galamalion]

𐕣. 𝐅𝐑𝐎𝐙𝐄𝐍 𝐕𝐄𝐈𝐍𝐒

summary. you attempt to enjoy the peaceful snowfall on your own, but aren't these beautiful moments meant to be shared?

⤷ contents. yandere!chrollo lucilfer x fem!reader, yandere themes, imprisonment, unhealthy relationships // wc. 1.6k

⤷ notes. thank you to @ddarker-dreams who inspired me to write something for chrollo, she's written some deplorable things for this man <3 i'm still only writing for one piece, this is something i just really wanted to write!

Snow had been falling for the last hour, painting the city below in a thin sheet of pure white, only the dark speckles of countless heads walking to-and-fro disturbing the peacefulness below. The windowsills and balcony were also beginning to pick up a layer, growing steadily with each tiny flake that joined the pile. A beautiful sight slowly being constructed, irreplaceable and inimitable by mankind.

But what is a beautiful thing, if not to be held and marveled?

You gazed solemnly out the window, fingers splayed against the chilled glass. A similar feeling no doubt to the snow that was just out of reach. God, how long had it been since you’d touched snow? Felt that freezing, yet warming sensation dance across your nerves, sending confusing signals to your brain.

Three years inside a luxury penthouse gave you time to organize your thoughts more poetically.

Well, to say you’d been here for three years would be inaccurate. Two years and five months inside this home. Chrollo must have been anxious for the first seven months he had you, either keeping you by his side or stashing you in rich hotels, if only for a single night.

Perhaps he had become more comfortable, or maybe he was working on a long job, seeing as you’d been here for so long. The fact that you were unsupervised made you lean towards the former, in addition to his unbeatable strength that made resistance futile. But you knew your limits, and slowly you’d been learning Chrollo’s over the course of these three years. Carefully tip-toeing the line between admonishment and punishment; you’d never get the last word but always make a sharp jab, leaving the oh-so generously gifted—and probably stolen—jewelry and makeup untouched, and, perhaps your favorite, ignoring his first call of your name, but always coming on the second.

Pretending to not have heard Chrollo was your favorite pastime after learning that there was little he could do except implore you to open those poor little ears of yours. And it was a joy asking him to repeat himself, enjoying the twinge of annoyance that you could make out in his voice. 

However, as was normal in your new life, Chrollo had made himself scarce for an extended period of time. It wasn’t strange, in fact it was a much needed relief of his soul-scathing presence. He was most likely on a job, having found some ancient book or enchanting onyx necklace that he just had to have. Or, more accurately, another rotting memoir of a dead pompous poet that you would have to listen to Chrollo gush about, and another piece of jewelry for you to throw in the box and forget.

Maybe he’d get creative and bring you a fun hat this time.

At the end of the day, Chrollo wasn’t here, leaving you alone with your own thoughts. It was refreshing, not being alert at every waking moment, though that freezing fear had most certainly dulled with time. You had time to read, maybe start on a puzzle before you became too tired—coffee had been upgraded to a privilege in the last month, and something that Chrollo was only allowed to make, leaving you to rely on your own body’s performance to remain awake for longer. But puzzles left a sour taste in your mouth ever since Chrollo exchanged your fun scenic sets for Renaissance paintings.

And so you settled on reading, the only other thing to do in this godforsaken prison. Chrollo never liked it when you called it that, reminding you that ‘prisons didn’t have fresh produce or fireplaces.’ But even a golden cage is a cage, something you’d remind him of. He took away the remote after that spat.

You abandoned your window gazing and skipped over to the imposing bookshelf and the expansive collection of tomes that awaited you. Half were unreadable, written in dead languages you couldn’t begin to comprehend. The other half were plain boring, a collection of classics that Chrollo had most likely stolen over the years. But a handful were bearable, or at least interesting enough to keep you reading. You had offhandedly mentioned to Chrollo that you preferred mysteries, and the very next day a complete vintage series of Sherlock Holmes appeared. You tried to hint at adding more diverse genres, but so far there have been no new additions to the bookshelf. 

After peeling the first book from the shelf and giving it a light shake to remove any lingering dust, you fled to the comfort of the window nook. It was a remarkable spot—one you knew Chrollo hated, since he could not sit next to you. You thumbed through the book to the first page, laying eyes upon the old and yellowed paper.

“In the year 1878 I took my degree of Doctor of Medicine of the University of London, and proceeded to Netley to go through the course prescribed for surgeons in the army.”

“Already a far more interesting life,” you muttered, “wish I could be a doctor.”

“Having completed my studies there, I was duly attached to the Fifth Northumberland Fusiliers as Assistant Surgeon. The regiment was stationed in India at the time, and before I could join it, the second Afghan war had broken out.”

“Oh, to travel the world. How I envy you, Watson,” you sighed, bleakly turning towards the window.

The snow hadn’t quit, continuing to stain the buildings in white, a gorgeous scene to behold. It was not to be enjoyed for long, however, as you caught a despicable glimpse in the reflection behind you.

Walking ever-so slightly closer was your captor, Chrollo Lucilfer, in the flesh. Although he seemed to immediately realize he’d been spotted, ceasing his silent movement before you swiveled your head around to face him.

“Please, don’t let me interrupt your commentary,” he gave an innocent smile, “it’s always a treat to hear your dulcet voice.”

“I’d rather keep my thoughts to myself, thanks,” you spat, sending a glare his way before turning back to your book.

“If you’d like to travel the world, I could certainly take you,” he continued.”

“I’ll pass, Chrollo.”

“What ever happened to our little nicknames, my dove? I seem to recall you had quite the attachment to calling me Mephistopheles,” he noted, resuming his gait towards you.

You rolled your eyes, “I’ve since concluded you rather enjoy being compared to the devil, whereas I am not your dove, nor any bird you refer to me as.”

“I’m terribly sorry, my dear,” he cooed.

“I am not yours.”

“You seem to have forgotten that I have stolen you, therefore you are mine.”

“Ah!” you cried out, “I believe you’re forgetting the special word for stealing another person. Perhaps you’ve heard of it? It’s called kidnapping.”

Chrollo smirked at your words, now leaning against the wall beside you, staring down at your piece of literature.

“Believe me, treasure, I am well aware of the crimes I commit.”

“Feel free to list them,” you turned the page of your book, “I assure you, I’m listening.”

He easily plucked the book from your hand.

“Company is meant to be enjoyed, not tolerated,” he teased, returning it back to its place on the shelf. “Besides, the snow outside is stunning, is it not?”

“Of course,” you sneered. “Here, let me put on my cap and scarf, and then we can go frolic in this wonderful weather!”

“Now, now, there’s no need to get smart with me.”

“I wouldn’t dare dream of it.”

Chrollo went quiet and gave you a look, a sign for you to shut your mouth before you ruined tonight.

“I am more than willing to put on a movie tonight, given that your attitude improves,” he spoke softly, moving back towards you.

There was hidden, unspoken meaning behind his words, something you’d grown to adjust to with your snarky attitude. Behave, or you get nothing.

“...What movie do you have in mind?” you responded, taking in a deep breath in an attempt to cool your soured mood.

“I’ll give you the choice, but I’m feeling partial to a select couple. Perhaps Romeo and Juliett? Or Pride and Prejudice?”

Someone’s in a mood tonight, you thought, folding your arms.

“Pride and Prejudice is fine,” you concluded, not wanting to hear Chrollo wax on about what Shakespeare meant or didn’t mean.

“Wonderful,” he smiled, walking over to the kitchen. “Now, would you like a cup of hot chocolate, my dear? I believe it would be fantastic on such a cold day.”

“That would be nice, thank you,” you answered as politely as you could manage, well aware that a simple ‘sure’ would not be enough to earn you any specialties.

You stood from your window alcove and walked quietly towards the bedroom, attempting to do so casually and without drawing his attention.

But it was impossible to slip anything past Chrollo Lucilfer.

“Dear,” he called out, still focused on his work at the counter.

You wordlessly turned around, staring emptily at the back of his head.

“There should be a dress, a black one, on the far right of your wardrobe,” he instructed, “be a doll and put it on.”

“...Alright.”

A black dress, probably too short to be comfortable in either direction. Chrollo’s favorite pastime, of course, was getting a glimpse of the body you’d refuse to show. But this was Chrollo’s night, not your own. Never your own.

So you’ll put the dress on, just like you’ll watch the movie that Chrollo wanted, right next to him—too close to him—on the sofa. And who knows, maybe you’ll do a puzzle with him at the end of the night.

But wasn't the snow just stunning?

[thrillered]

You know I Mountain Dew it for ya Pt.1 | Spencer Agnew x F! Reader |

You started working at Smosh when you were 26, a few years after graduating college. In your down time you wrote and produced your own music. Not that you had much down time, which wasn’t necessarily a problem, you loved your job, you got to work with some of the most creative, talented, and hilarious people you’ve ever met. After working on it for months you finally finished writing and producing your latest single "Espresso". The song blows up but Smosh fans begin to wonder if the song is about her dear friend and coworker Spencer Agnew.

*Every piece of this work is fictional. I was inspired by Sabrina Carpenters song Espresso when I noticed how much it could apply to Spencer lol, I did NOT write or produce Espresso*

-

-

-

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Pt. 1: Lunch

“Hello everyone!! And welcome back to another TRY NOT TO LAUGH!” Amanda started, a burst of energy shooting throughout the sound stage. “Don’t worry, we’ve heard your requests so we grabbed Josh to do another MUSICAL episode!”

The cast cheered, you smiled as you stayed ducked behind them. “Because we’re doing a musical episode we invited the one and only Y/N to join us!” Courtney smiled, the group— Amanda, Courtney, Shayne, Angela, and Chanse— splitting to allow you to pop up. 

“Hey everyone!!” You began, the cast and crew clapping and giving whoops of encouragement. “Okay, okay, that’s enough you’re making me blush” you joked, hands behind your back and twisting your foot.

“Don’t stop blushing yet Y/N, we aren’t done talking about you.” Chanse added, shaking your shoulder. 

“We may or may not have had ulterior motives for this musical episode.” Amanda continued. “We invited Y/N to join us because she is releasing a new song!”

“AND because I'm hilariously witty, right?” you joked, causing shayne to roll his eyes. “But! Yes, the day this releases my new single “Espresso” will be premiering at 10 pm PST, like, everywhere you get your music! This song is super fun so I hope you guys like it!” The group cheered and with that the round began.  

With Amanda in the stool first you decided to bust out your Sarah Christ impression for a beautiful ballad about how no establishments will let you smoke in them anymore. Amanda was quick to laugh, almost spraying you in the face, followed by a compliment about how good your Sarah Christ was. 

The game went by smoothly, or as smoothly as a smosh video goes, everyone making each other laugh. During your time in the stool Shayne sang, or rather yelled, one of the lowest notes you'd ever heard. You stayed strong until he had been holding the same note for probably 10 seconds and his face turned the most pained shade of red. 

“Oh thank god!” He said, leaning his hands on his knees as he caught his breath, “I think I would have gone until I passed out” 

The final round ended and you began the outro with applause, “That was so much fun! I demand to be invited to every musical TNTL from now on. Thank you guys so much for watching, we hope you laughed just as much as we did.” 

“Don't forget to stream “Espresso” by Y/N!” Chanse added, resting his chin lightly on your shoulder. 

“It’s SO good! Like, I swear to god, it's been stuck in my head since I heard it for the first time.” Angela added.

“And with that we must part ways..” You began, in a deep melodic tone. “Don’t forget to like and subscribe and check out one of these two videos on your screen! Okay bye!” 

—-

That was two weeks ago and the Try Not To Laugh was being posted today. Your single premiering tonight.  

You sat at your desk, anxiously bouncing your heel as you tried to focus on the doc in front of you. You were supposed to meet with the games team later that afternoon to discuss possible creatives for some upcoming live streams. But the only thing you could focus on was what people would think about your song. 

You aren’t new to making music. In fact, you’ve been writing it since college and even performing it at some open mics and small gigs. But, most people who knew you online knew you from Smosh, not from your musical career. You had about 3,000 monthly listeners, which always astounded you, but this was the first time that you were releasing music that was being promoted by such a large online entity. 

“Keep shaking like that and you’ll cause an earthquake” You turned to see Spencer approaching your desk, hands in his pockets. You opened your mouth to respond but he cut you off, “Everyone is gonna love your song, Y/N. You don’t need to worry.”

“You haven't even heard it yet, Spence” You retorted, having made Spencer (Along with the rest of the cast, minus Angela) swear that he would wait until the release party to listen to it. You leaned your head on your chair to look at him as he sits next to you. 

“Yes, but, you would only put out something good so I trust that the song slaps.” Spencer tried to ease your running mind, only to get a huff in return. “Okay fine.” He began, standing and grabbing your phone while simultaneously turning off your monitor. 

“Wha- Hey” You started, trying to stop him but reacting too slowly.

“We are going out to lunch.” Spencer said, matter of factly.

“But what about the games meeting?” You asked.

“Got moved back an hour, don’t you look at the slack?” he chastised.

“Okay, but isn’t everyone going out tonight anyway?” You questioned, remembering that some of the cast and crew insisted on going out to celebrate your song release.

“Yeah but that’s everyone.” Spencer began, already walking towards the door, “Consider this your pre-game with your best friend.” 

“A pre-game at..” You looked at your barren wrist, “two pm?” 

“One: you’re not wearing a watch. And two: okay, a social pre-game. Plus, I’m not taking no for an answer, so come on and let your wonderful best friend buy you lunch.”  Begrudgingly you agreed. You walked side by side to Spencer's car, him opening the passenger door for you before rounding the front and getting in the drivers side. 

You smiled as you realized where he was taking you. He took you to a little hole-in-the-wall ramen place you two had discovered the year prior. It quickly became you and Spencer's own little spot. Neither of you ever went there without the other unless it meant stopping by to take it to go on the way to the other's apartment for a game or movie night. 

The older Japanese-American couple that owned the restaurant greeted you with warm smiles, “The usual?” the husband, Kenji, asked. 

You both nodded as you took a seat in one of the four small booths that lined the wall. The comforting smell of hot broth and spices calmed your anxious mind as you closed your eyes to take a deep inhale. You and Spencer talked about some upcoming shoots and how his Baldur's Gate 3 save was going as you waited for the food to arrive. 

 It didn’t take long for Emi, the other owner, to bring out your food, “You two are just the cutest, such a wonderful young couple.” She cooed.

“Oh we’re not-” 

“Thank you Mrs. Ito, that's so sweet, we really love coming here.” You cut Spencer off, smiling at the woman's kindness. She walked off, heading to grab an order for a driver. 

You turned to find Spencer staring at you with an eyebrow slightly raised. “What?” You asked, sipping on the steaming broth.

“So you think we’re the ‘most wonderful young couple’ huh?”

“Of course I do honeybun.” You jested, leaning over the table and tapping Spencer's cheek sarcastically. Resuming your meal as Spencer rolls his eyes.

The rest of your lunch is pleasant, filled with chatter about everything yet nothing. You tried to pay for your lunch when Mrs. Ito brings the bill but Spencer insists on covering it since he wanted to take you to lunch to distract you. 

“Thank you spence, I really needed that.” You said, grabbing Spencer’s hand in thanks as you walked back into the office. 

He squeezed your hand lightly, “I always know what you need.” And he did, Spencer was a consistent support system for you, had been since you began at Smosh. Beginning as an editor you worked with Spencer a lot. Your friendship blossomed over a shared love of movies and games. 

Over the years you got closer and closer until you were unequivocally best friends. Weekly movie nights, breakfast, lunch, and dinner dates solidified that years ago. Now there’s hardly any time you spend without each other. 

You walked hand in hand to the conference room, ready for the games meeting now that your head was clear.

[moineauz]

જ⁀ 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐏𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐈𝐓 𝐎𝐅 𝐀 𝐌𝐀𝐍 𝐎𝐍 𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐄

synopsis: you are a travelling artist, transversing the galaxy. Thus, on your curt trip to penacony, you see a man and paint him.

including: aventurine

side comments: my rawest writing piece yet. the piece is meant to be up for interpretation and i wanted to take a more vague standpoint. this is not necessarily an x reader fic, please keep that in mind. thank you @/stellaronhvnters members for giving me tips. sending you all lots of love!

extra: angst, gn reader, boothill makes a short appearance, subtle 2.1 spoilers words count: roughly 963

You saw him on three occasions.

The first was under the incessant flash of Penacony's lights, the ubiquitous glint of inordinate advertisements trailed behind you like children. He stood amongst the dreamers with fashion and flare: the subtle sway of his right earing was charmed you. While his shoes reflected opulence and splendour. The number pressed onto his neck- similarly pressed against the folds of your mind: the place in which the eyes stare onto the shore and cast spells of what if’s.

Yet, despite the nature of his novelties and the soulful satire of his smile, you paused- traffic and light bending into sound.

What was he? You pondered. Perhaps he is perched in towers and rolls dice like candy; pecking it afterwards. Perhaps he sharpens his shoes as he does with his eyes. Perhaps he stands still in showers of salty rain, drying his cheeks with the rim of his velvet hat.

Was he a dreamer too? You would of blinked in affirmation, griped your breath a touch tighter and trace his footsteps. Lifting it on to the palm of your hand, tucked it into the haven of your pocket, cradling it like an infant, raising it like a lush fern. A portable paradise euphonious and maternal.

From there you shifted your weight onto your good side and tapped your feet to the beat of your heart, matching it to the song of his hushed ingenious breath.

He was here before, you noted. Clearly, not for leisure nor for pleasure. His strides were candid, curt, and clever. Yet, from afar, it was as if the tip of his shoes was his only connection between ground and sky. His steps bounced, rebounding off by sheer force alone; leaping mid-air, leaping with vigour and intention, leaping over wide yawning chasms.

He was galloping towards, not bothering to gaze back. His image blended into one of a horse standing amidst fields teeming with immeasurable and verdant grassland. The horse and their lush nature, a loneliness that can't be contended with as they lowered their gaze like swans. Their mane brushed against skin; preparing to consume the earth generously all on their own- unaccompanied by instruction, coddling or order.

You pause and step back from the slender and poised length of his legs, from the cage of his chest in which gold is born and coiled, from the rings of his eyes that pirouette and roulette. Hence, pondering curiously what kind of bone does not break despite its beatings.

The second time you saw him was when the sharp pungency of grapefruit- twirled with the salt which lined the rim of your glass- produced a sweet taste on the stage of your tongue. At the time the drink was fresh, garnished and plainly odd considering the dim, velvet aura which vibrated through the bar. The taste lingered in your mouth: reminiscent of a sultry summer afternoon.

His hair, you then realized, was scintillating in the gleam of bottles and booze. You wavered a bit, eyes blurry, hot and wet like the sea. He twirled and tuned with the light, the brand of his watch blurring with another sip of rum.

You don't recall any music, however, in that liminal moment between one song and the next, between one sip and a single swallow, your mouth split open in a wide glowing grin.

One foot over the other- glass in hand- serenading in dim light, crash after crash, bass strung with tangible words- it echoed deep and slow.

From there he stares forward, kissing the rim of his glass, dissipating with light as he seems to do. For a split second, he is vulnerable in the state of lassitude.

However, not before unfurling, smiling then melting. He was flying close to the sun; grazing his hands over its rims. Bright young man, you noted.

You pause and step back from his supple lips- insoluble when met with torrents, solid when left to eternity, liquid when set alive, gone when used up.

The third and final time was when his back faced you: his body resting, arms sprawled out in surrender, a single finger twitching. The memory is slipping. Like grains of sand trailing down your hand, like silk that won't hold a knot, like how rest is destined for those who truly slumber. Everecent in nature and poise. There, you wonder soundly, what stars have been bruised onto his back, and if you'd be able to draw them together- into one grand constellation that spans from one end of the world into another infinite void of true rapture.

"What a painting- or pain really."

"For someone who can't physically feel pain, your remark is rather funny," you quip back smoothly, your gaze still set towards the man's slackened joints and inner tenderness.

"You've been sitin' here for hours," bantered Boothill, "Four months really... since we left Penacony!"

You gingerly place the paintbrush down, pausing as you gradually step back from the lifesize portrait. A streak of yellow and purple paint stains your right cheek. "Today I am done."

Boothill raises an eyebrow as he watches you lift the painting onto a mantel: unhurried as a tree. Boothill watched you, morph the image of a stranger into blinding brilliance with each fastidious detail. How your subject- him- echoed volumes, his back against the world, facing tomorrow, embracing the amorous fold of limelight before departing, walking away into nothing with a princely smile and a single wave of his hand.

"Why do you paint him?" Boothill questions, his voice oddly dim and mellow, "You know nothin' about him."

Repose is found on your face as to your reply.

Boothill emits a frustrated sigh and reaches into his pockets; retrieving a lighter, you promptly flick it alive. The flame staring at you; wavering and swaying left then right. Your eyes are subtly idyllic and lulled as if drifting soundly in prayer; relishing the final wave of maudlin and soothing nuance.

"That's why I like him."

You set the portrait aflame.

"Because I know nothing about him."

masterlist.

interact with a comment! don’t be a silent reader 🤍

[angieslove06]

Hidden Melody

Prompt: A musician mysteriously receives love letters from an unknown admirer within their industry, leading them on a quest to find out who it is.

The faint hum of a melody echoed through the spacious recording studio. (Y/N) sat at the grand piano, her fingers gliding effortlessly over the ivory keys. The soft light from the desk lamp illuminated the sheet music she had been working on for weeks, a potential chart-topper for her upcoming album. Outside the studio’s soundproof walls, the bustling city thrived, but in here, it was just her and the music.

"Take five, yeah?" her producer called out from the control room, and she nodded, stretching her fingers. (Y/N) stood up, shaking the stiffness out of her arms, and turned to grab her water bottle. That's when she noticed it—a folded piece of paper on the piano bench.

Frowning, she picked it up. No one should have been in here except her and the staff. Curious, she unfolded it. The paper was neatly creased, the handwriting elegant and precise.

Your music is as breathtaking as the stars—raw, unfiltered, and beautiful. I can’t help but admire you from afar. Keep playing, (Y/N). You’re captivating.

Her breath hitched. No signature. Just a mysterious message.

"Did someone leave this?" she called out to her producer. He shook his head from behind the glass, looking just as confused.

A wave of unease washed over her, but it was tinged with curiosity. Who could have written this?

The next few days were uneventful, save for her usual schedule of interviews, rehearsals, and meetings with her label. That is, until the second letter appeared. This time, it was slipped into her bag after an event.

There’s a fire in your music—one that makes me want to burn alongside you. Thank you for being you.

She stared at the words, her heart pounding. Whoever it was, they weren’t just anyone. Their words felt intimate, almost as though they truly knew her.

---

Meanwhile, across the city, Katsuki Bakugou lounged on the couch in his penthouse apartment. His arms were crossed, and he was glaring at the TV playing a rerun of his latest music video. His manager had been nagging him about softening his image lately, and it annoyed him to no end.

"What do they know, huh?" he muttered. "I’m not about to play some lovey-dovey crap just to sell more records."

But even as he grumbled, his mind wandered back to her. The way her music resonated with him was almost infuriating. It stirred something deep inside him, something he couldn’t quite put into words. She was a rising star, and everyone knew it.

Still, Katsuki wasn’t the type to sit back and let feelings get the better of him. He’d never been good at expressing his emotions, but writing those letters had been... oddly freeing.

"Maybe this is stupid," he muttered under his breath, crumpling up yet another draft of a letter. But then he sighed, smoothing out the paper and finishing his latest note.

---

Back in her apartment, (Y/N) sat cross-legged on her couch, the latest letter in her hands. The words were more personal this time, almost like a confession.

If only I had the guts to say this to your face. One day, maybe. Until then, let my words reach you like your music reaches me.

Her fingers traced over the inked words. The mystery was eating away at her, but she couldn’t deny the thrill it brought.

Who was this hidden admirer? And why did their words make her heart race?

---

The next morning, (Y/N) woke up to the sound of her phone buzzing incessantly on her bedside table. Squinting at the screen, she groaned.

Her best friend and fellow artist, Mina Ashido, had sent a barrage of texts.

Mina: "OMG, check the trending page right now!"

Mina: "Your last performance is blowing up!!!"

Mina: "ALSO. Did you see that photo circulating??? ���"

Confused, (Y/N) quickly opened social media. Sure enough, her name was trending, and so was an image that made her heart skip a beat.

It was a photo of her walking out of her studio last night, holding the latest anonymous letter. The picture wasn’t clear enough to make out the writing, but the caption read:

“Who’s sending love notes to (Y/N)? Secret admirer or industry insider?”

She froze. Her chest tightened as she scrolled through hundreds of comments speculating who the admirer could be. Fans threw out wild guesses, ranging from fellow musicians to actors she’d barely spoken to.

Slamming her phone down, she muttered, "Great. Just what I needed."

Her thoughts were interrupted by a knock at her door. Mina’s voice called out, "Open up! I brought coffee and nosy energy!"

(Y/N) swung the door open, glaring at Mina. "This is your fault, you know."

Mina grinned unapologetically, handing over a latte. "Don’t look at me! I didn’t leak the photo. But come on, aren’t you the tiniest bit curious about who’s writing these letters?"

(Y/N) groaned, flopping onto her couch. "Of course I’m curious! But now it’s not just me wondering—half the internet is."

Mina plopped down beside her, eyes sparkling with mischief. "Okay, but think about it. This person knows you. It’s not some random fan. They’ve been where you are—your studio, your events. That narrows it down, right?"

Her words made sense, but the thought only heightened (Y/N)’s frustration. Who could it be?

---

Across the city, Katsuki Bakugou slammed his phone onto the counter. He’d seen the photo, too, and his mood had soured instantly.

"Dammit," he muttered, running a hand through his spiky hair. The whole point of writing those letters was to remain anonymous, to express himself without the pressure of his reputation or the spotlight.

His manager, Kirishima, raised an eyebrow. "You okay, bro? You’ve been pacing like a caged animal for the last hour."

Bakugou scowled. "No, I’m not okay! Some idiot snapped a photo of her with one of the letters."

Kirishima blinked in surprise. "Wait... you’re the one writing those?"

"Shut up," Bakugou growled, his face reddening slightly.

Kirishima smirked, crossing his arms. "Man, you’ve got it bad, huh? Didn’t think you were the romantic type."

"It’s not like that," Bakugou snapped, though his tone lacked conviction. He shoved his hands into his pockets, glaring at the floor. "Her music... it’s different. It gets to me. And I don’t know how to deal with it, okay?"

Kirishima studied him for a moment before clapping a hand on his shoulder. "Well, if you don’t want this blowing up any further, you might need to take a more direct approach. You can’t just keep sending letters now that people are watching."

Bakugou frowned, the thought of confrontation making his stomach twist. He wasn’t one for emotional displays, let alone confessing his feelings to someone like (Y/N)—someone so talented and bright that it made him feel exposed.

"I’ll figure it out," he muttered.

---

Later that evening, (Y/N) arrived at an industry gala, her heels clicking against the marble floor. She hadn’t planned on attending, but her manager insisted it was a good opportunity to keep the public’s focus on her music, not the mystery surrounding her admirer.

The grand ballroom was packed with familiar faces—fellow artists, producers, and media personalities. She made her way to the bar, needing a drink to calm her nerves.

That’s when she spotted him. Katsuki Bakugou.

He was leaning against the far wall, his usual scowl in place as he sipped from a glass of whiskey. His sharp red eyes scanned the room, landing on her for a brief moment before flicking away.

She tried not to overthink it. They’d crossed paths before at events like this but had never spoken beyond polite nods. Still, something about his presence felt... different tonight.

As the night went on, (Y/N) couldn’t shake the feeling that someone was watching her. Not in a creepy way, but with an intensity that made her skin prickle.

Unbeknownst to her, Bakugou’s gaze lingered every time she turned away. His hands itched to write another letter, but his gut told him it was time to make a move.

---

The music from the gala orchestra swirled through the air, but (Y/N) found it hard to focus. Her eyes scanned the crowd as if the answers she sought could be found in the sea of familiar faces. Somewhere in this room was her mystery admirer—or at least someone who might know more about them.

She hadn’t forgotten the fleeting moment her gaze locked with Katsuki Bakugou’s earlier. It was rare to see the fiery and notoriously temperamental artist at social events like this. While she didn’t know him personally, his reputation preceded him: explosive, blunt, and fiercely talented.

“Looking for someone?” Mina teased, appearing by her side with a mischievous grin.

(Y/N) huffed. “No. Maybe. I don’t know.”

Mina raised an eyebrow, then smirked. “Well, you might not have to look far. Guess who’s been stealing glances at you all night?”

(Y/N)’s heart skipped a beat. “What are you talking about?”

Mina tilted her head toward the far end of the room, where Bakugou stood in a shadowy corner, arms crossed, his sharp eyes fixed on her once again.

“He’s not exactly subtle, is he?” Mina whispered conspiratorially. “You think it could be him?”

(Y/N) shook her head quickly, though she couldn’t ignore the way her pulse quickened. “No way. He doesn’t seem like the type.”

“Maybe that’s what makes it so intriguing,” Mina said with a wink before disappearing back into the crowd, leaving (Y/N) flustered and alone.

---

Bakugou drained the last of his whiskey, the liquid burning as it went down. His jaw clenched as he watched (Y/N) laugh at something her friend said. She looked radiant tonight—elegant and confident, like she belonged in the spotlight.

“Tch,” he muttered under his breath, frustrated with himself. Why couldn’t he just go over there and talk to her? He was Katsuki Bakugou, for crying out loud. He didn’t get nervous, and he definitely didn’t fumble over his words.

But this was different. She was different.

“Bakugou!”

He turned to see his manager, Kirishima, grinning as he approached.

“What now?” Bakugou asked, already regretting the interaction.

“Quit sulking, man. You’ve been eyeing her all night. Just go talk to her already.”

“Shut up, Eijiro,” Bakugou growled, glaring at him. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Kirishima laughed, clapping him on the back. “Sure, sure. Just saying, she’s probably wondering why the great Katsuki Bakugou is lurking in the shadows like a creep.”

Bakugou’s scowl deepened, but Kirishima’s words lit a fire under him. Before he could second-guess himself, he set down his empty glass and started making his way across the room.

---

(Y/N) turned back to the bar to order another drink, trying to steady her nerves. She wasn’t expecting a deep, gravelly voice to speak from behind her.

“You don’t look like you’re having fun.”

She turned, startled, to find Bakugou standing there, his hands shoved into the pockets of his tailored black suit. His crimson eyes were sharp, but there was an intensity in his gaze that made her heart race.

“I could say the same about you,” she replied, trying to sound more confident than she felt.

He smirked faintly. “Fair point.”

An awkward silence stretched between them before he finally sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Look... I’m not great at this whole ‘small talk’ thing, so I’ll just get to the point.”

(Y/N) blinked, her breath catching in anticipation. Was he about to confess something?

“I’ve heard your music,” he said, his voice quieter now. “It’s good. Real good.”

The compliment caught her off guard. She knew Bakugou wasn’t the type to hand out praise lightly.

“Thank you,” she said softly.

He shifted, his expression hard to read. “You don’t let the spotlight change you. That’s rare in this industry.”

(Y/N) tilted her head, studying him. There was a vulnerability in his tone that didn’t match the tough exterior he was known for.

“Why are you telling me this?” she asked.

He hesitated, the words he wanted to say caught in his throat. Instead of answering, he gave her a curt nod. “Just wanted you to know.”

Before she could respond, he turned and walked away, leaving her standing there, more confused than ever.

---

Later that night, (Y/N) returned to her apartment. She was still replaying her conversation with Bakugou in her mind when she noticed something on her coffee table.

Another letter.

This one was different from the others. It was shorter, written in the same elegant handwriting, but the words felt raw, almost urgent.

I saw you tonight. You were stunning, as always. One day, I’ll tell you this in person. For now, let this be enough.

Her heart raced as she read the note. The timing was too perfect. Could it really be him?

---

The letter sat on (Y/N)’s coffee table, its words burning into her mind. "I saw you tonight." The timing was too coincidental. She couldn’t ignore the possibility that Katsuki Bakugou might be her mystery admirer.

Still, doubt lingered. Could the man known for his explosive temper and gruff demeanor really write something so vulnerable and heartfelt?

The next morning, (Y/N) couldn’t shake the thought of him. She decided to take Mina’s advice and look into her potential admirer. She flipped open her laptop, pulling up past interviews, performances, and anything she could find about Bakugou.

Despite his fiery personality on stage, she noticed glimpses of something else in his quieter moments—subtle but telling. The way his fingers lingered on his guitar strings during an acoustic performance, the way he spoke about music like it was the only thing in the world that mattered.

Could there be more to him than met the eye?

---

Across the city, Bakugou was struggling with his own dilemma.

"Why’d you chicken out?" Kirishima asked, leaning against the counter of Bakugou’s kitchen.

"I didn’t chicken out," Bakugou snapped, glaring at his friend. "I just... didn’t think it was the right time."

Kirishima raised an eyebrow. "You literally had the perfect chance to tell her last night. Now she’s probably more confused than ever."

Bakugou growled, running a hand through his hair. "It’s not that simple, alright? What if she thinks it’s weird? Or worse, what if she doesn’t care?"

Kirishima smirked. "Oh, she cares. Trust me. The way she was looking at you last night? She’s curious. You’ve already got her attention. Now it’s up to you not to screw it up."

Bakugou huffed, crossing his arms. "Yeah, yeah. I’ll figure it out."

---

Later that day, (Y/N) found herself back at the studio, trying to focus on recording. But her mind kept wandering, replaying her interactions with Bakugou and the letters.

"Earth to (Y/N)!" her producer called, snapping her out of her thoughts.

"Sorry," she muttered, adjusting her headphones. "Let’s try that again."

As the track played, she poured her emotions into the lyrics, her voice carrying a rawness that hadn’t been there before. By the time they wrapped up the session, her producer was beaming.

"That was incredible," he said. "You’re really feeling this one, huh?"

(Y/N) nodded, a small smile tugging at her lips. Music had always been her outlet, but this song felt different—like she was channeling all the confusion, excitement, and vulnerability she’d been holding inside.

---

That evening, she received an unexpected message from Mina.

Mina: "Guess who’s performing at that charity concert tomorrow? 😉"

(Y/N) blinked at her screen, her stomach flipping as she read the attached flyer. Sure enough, Katsuki Bakugou’s name was listed among the performers.

Her fingers hovered over her keyboard.

(Y/N): "You think I should go?"

Mina: "Are you kidding? Of course! You need to figure this out, and what better way than to see him in his element?"

(Y/N) hesitated, but Mina was right. If she wanted answers, she couldn’t just sit back and wait.

---

The next night, (Y/N) arrived at the concert venue, her heart pounding as she took her seat near the front. The atmosphere was electric, with fans cheering and the buzz of anticipation filling the air.

When it was finally Bakugou’s turn to perform, the crowd erupted into screams and applause. He walked onto the stage with his signature confidence, gripping the microphone as his band prepared to play.

But then something unexpected happened.

Instead of launching into one of his usual high-energy songs, Bakugou gestured for the band to hold back. The stage lights dimmed, leaving him in a spotlight as he picked up an acoustic guitar.

"This one’s... different," he said, his voice gruff but steady. "I wrote it for someone who probably doesn’t even realize how much they mean to me."

(Y/N)’s breath caught as the first chords filled the air. His voice, raw and unfiltered, carried the emotion of every word as he sang about longing, admiration, and fear of rejection.

It was beautiful—and unmistakably personal.

As the final note lingered in the air, Bakugou looked out at the audience, his crimson eyes scanning the crowd. For a fleeting moment, his gaze landed on her, and she felt the intensity of his stare like a jolt to her chest.

Could this be his way of confessing?

---

The applause roared through the venue as Katsuki Bakugou stood on stage, his chest rising and falling with each breath. His song, stripped bare of his usual fiery bravado, left the audience spellbound. But for (Y/N), it was so much more—it felt like a window into his soul.

As the crowd cheered, his crimson eyes scanned the faces again, lingering on her for a beat too long. Her heart raced, and for the first time, she wasn’t sure if it was from the music or the possibility that he’d just revealed himself as her mysterious admirer.

When the show ended, (Y/N) couldn’t sit still. She needed answers, and for once, she wasn’t going to overthink it. She made her way backstage, her palms clammy and her mind spinning with every scenario imaginable.

The security guard stopped her briefly, but she showed him her industry pass, and after a moment, he nodded her through.

The backstage area was buzzing with activity—crew members packing up equipment and performers chatting in clusters. She spotted him leaning against the wall near the dressing rooms, his usual scowl firmly in place as his bandmates spoke animatedly beside him.

Summoning all her courage, she approached.

“Bakugou.”

He looked up sharply, his red eyes widening slightly before narrowing again. “(Y/N)? What’re you doing back here?”

Her voice wavered for a moment, but she steadied herself. “I needed to talk to you.”

His bandmates exchanged knowing smirks before making themselves scarce, leaving the two of them alone.

“What’s up?” he asked, crossing his arms. His tone was casual, but there was a tension in his posture that told her he wasn’t as indifferent as he wanted to appear.

She took a deep breath. “That song you played tonight. Was it... about me?”

The question hung in the air like a challenge. Bakugou’s jaw clenched, and for a moment, she thought he might deflect or deny it. But then he sighed, running a hand through his messy blond hair.

“Yeah,” he admitted, his voice low. “It was.”

Her heart skipped a beat. “So you’re the one who’s been sending me the letters?”

He nodded, his gaze dropping to the floor. “Look, I know it’s weird. I just... I didn’t know how else to say it. You’re not like anyone else in this industry. Your music—it’s real. And you... you’re real.”

His words were raw, unpolished, and utterly genuine.

“Why didn’t you just tell me?” she asked softly.

He shrugged, his lips curving into a wry smirk. “Because I’m not exactly the romantic type. Thought you’d laugh in my face or something.”

(Y/N) couldn’t help but smile at that. “You don’t give yourself enough credit. Those letters were beautiful, Katsuki.”

His eyes snapped up to hers, surprise flashing across his face. “You mean that?”

“I do.”

They stood there for a moment, the noise of the bustling backstage fading into the background. Finally, (Y/N) reached into her bag and pulled out the most recent letter—the one she’d found on her coffee table.

“When I read this, I didn’t know who it could be. But now...” She stepped closer, holding the note between them. “Now it all makes sense.”

Bakugou swallowed hard, his usual confidence faltering under her gaze. “So... what now?”

A small smile tugged at her lips. “How about we start with coffee?”

His eyes widened slightly before softening. He let out a short laugh, scratching the back of his neck. “Yeah, I guess that’s a good place to start.”

As they left the venue together, the world outside felt a little brighter, the music in their hearts no longer hidden but shared.

---

The End.

[lexsssu]

Clear (Albedo)

TAGS: Albedo/Dragoness!reader, smut, pregnancy, drabble Ao3 ver. | Ko-fi | Commissions (OPEN)

“Fascinating. You are truly an anomaly that goes against all known laws of this world, but then again...you are not of this world so I suppose that does partially explain how you keep exceeding my expectations.”

You feel like a lab rat beneath the probing gaze of Mondstadt’s Chief Alchemist as he circled you, hands going a mile a minute as he recorded his latest findings about your ‘abnormal’ physiology. 

It was by pure chance that you found yourself at the Dragonspine of all places the moment you woke up in this world that felt the same, but was so different from your own. Though the blistering cold would freeze even the most hardy of adventurers or travelers, your former game avatar and now current body was seemingly immune to it. Like the monsters that called this terrain home, your draconic body warded off the cold as it produced heat that not only spread throughout your physical body but seemed to originate from your very soul. Being the researcher that he was while also being the first to stumble upon your wayward self, Albedo had taken it upon himself to study you.

“...Thank you, I think? ...Was that supposed to be a compliment though?”

“Affirmative. I had intended my previous words to be a compliment. Your body is truly a marvel to behold.”

Had he been any other person you’d have misinterpreted his words, but Albedo’s handsome face never strayed from its cool expression that stayed as pure and untarnished as the snow that piled high atop the peak of the Dragonspine. Still though, you were unused to genuine compliments due to being an ordinary wage slave with average looks before transmigrating to Teyvat so you couldn’t be blamed from feeling a little flustered because of his praise.

The alchemist disregarded the warmth that bloomed in his chest at the sight of the red tinge that splattered across the fullness of your cheeks, attributing the said warmth to your body basically being a furnace that it seeped into your surroundings and reached him because of his close proximity to you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Big sister is the best! She plays with Klee all the time, takes me out flying, and she’s just as patient with me as you are big brother!” Klee gushed excitedly at Albedo, practically vibrating in her spot as she regaled him with tales of their various misadventures. “She’s so pretty too! And, and, and her hair is so long and fluffy that Klee could spend the whole day just petting her hair. Even Razor thinks she’s pretty!...And Kaeya & Diluc too!”

Albedo paused his writing at Klee’s admission, an image of you flashing before his eyes and reminding him of your said snowy strands that felt like the softest silk beneath his fingertips. He recalls how carefree and unrestrained you are towards him, caring not how...different he was compared to most ordinary people. 

So much mystery contained in a single person and yet for all your secrets, he finds that he doesn’t mind unravelling you piece by piece even if it revealed another facet of you that he had yet to explore. It was safe to say that you were not so unlike the Dragonspine, uncharted territory in which no man has yet to fully or even partially unravel its countless secrets.

Was it wishful thinking if he wanted to be the one to discover all your hidden sides?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“To think that such a phenomenon is possible between creatures such as you and I...There are still many mysteries in this world that I have yet to discover the answers to,” a hint of wonder could be felt in his voice as he marveled at you, hands reverently caressing the small yet soft & firm bump on your stomach. “I do wonder if this child will also carry the aura of the stars which you possess…”

Even in the midst of coupling, Albedo’s tenacious mind couldn’t stop itself from functioning like the well-oiled machine that it was. As much as you loved him and all of his quirks however, an obviously pregnant and horny dragoness was not patient enough to allow her lover and the father of her child to simply pet her when he had his cock shoved inside her cunt. 

“Albedo-dear I do so love you, but if you insist on carrying on with your research while we’re IN THE MIDDLE OF FUCKING then I swear to all the archons in Teyvat that I will tie you down and fuck myself on your cock until I am satisfied. IS.THAT.CLEAR?”

“...Crystal”

[call-sign-shark]

Little Lamb part. 1|| Arthur Shelby x Reader x OFC

Summary: They came into your life when you were desperate, convinced no one would ever want you and yet you found yourself not one, but two lovers madly infatuated with you: The infamous Arthur Shelby and his young wife.(Yandere! Arthur Shelby x Reader x Yandere!OFC)

TW: (for the entire short series) Toxic dynamic, polyamory relationship, murders, torture, graphic depiction of violence, heavy allusion to smut, obsessive behavior, possessive!lovers, angst and horror. Inspired by the song The Things I Do For Love by Bludnymph.

Words: 1.4k

Notes:

✞ Since I'm stuck with Tangled Desires' new chapter I thought about taking a break to write a very short three-part story (no more than 1.5k per part). All is already written and it will be posted during the week. It 100% can be read as a stand alone.

✞ Heaven in Reader in the ongoing Arthur x You series Heaven in Your Eyes.

NEXT PART

Love had never been kind to you. The statement might sounded tough but so was the truth. You were either too shy to make the first move, or when you did you undeniably ended up with your heart crushed because you were too nice and, your relatives said, too… understanding. Too soft for this world and painfully too weak for Small Heath.  When you left your hometown to start your new barmaid life at the Garrison pub, desperately looking for a job and a new start in life, all your friends had laughed at you: how could a meek little lamb like you could willingly throw herself in this hell, where hungry and violent wolves lurked in every corner, ready to tear her in millions pieces? Still, you paid no heed to their warning and left everything and everyone behind you, fueled by the firm will to prove them wrong.

Surprisingly enough, working at the Garrison had done some good to you despite spending your first days shaking like a leaf each time a loud man talked to you. This, but also hiding behind Harry when the Shelby brothers flooded the place with their piercing blue eyes and their sharp caps. Unfortunately, you had to learn the entirety of the job and it involved plucking up the courage to pour them their drink. They merely noticed you, far too concerned by whatever shady business they were talking about until scrapped but tender fingers brushed against your skin. Slightly jumping, you raised your gaze towards their owner and was quickly met with steel blue iris overhung by dark lashes. "Leave the bottle, love." The oldest of the brotherhood said, gently taking the whiskey from your hand before offering you a surprisingly charming smile.

"You're welcome, Mr. Shelby." Did you manage to reply without any stuttering? No, you didn't but you were already surprised by your ability to actually produce a sound when faced with certainly the most ruthless of these gangsters. You turned your heels, Arthur's eyes burning your back as you walked to another table.

As weeks passed, you grew up more confident and started to navigate more easily in this cursed city. In Birmingham, working as a barmaid was the same as patching up souls: exhausted working-class men, vile gangsters, drunkards, or sad men all found a bit of happiness in the bottom of their glass and in the waitress’ warm smile. Most of your life your softness has been deemed a weakness but here, in the crowded Garrison, your softness wasn’t one. It was a gift that mended the hearts of your clients, and the more you soothed these troubled souls, the more the weight of your own broken heart was alleviated.

You never exchanged more than a few words with Arthur Shelby, but the fact he always asked you to serve him his drinks and thanked you with a pet name was enough for you to feel like a schoolgirl noticed by one of the popular boys around. Yeah, it sounded stupid even in your head but you couldn't help.

Tonight had started the same as ever: you put the whiskey glass on the table and proceeded to walk away when, suddenly, his hand kept you from doing so. With his long fingers wrapped around your wrist, blood still stuck under his nails, the gangster's baritone voice purred “A sweet little lamb you are, ay.” He punctuated his sentence with a seductive wink that made your heart beat faster than usual. “And a fucking pretty one too... How's the night going?"

"Terrible, Harry's in such a bad mood! I haven't found the time to sit and rest for five minutes -- My feet hurt so much I feel like I've walked miles." You said, you joked, hating the idea of whining.

"Why don't ya sit now, little Lamb?" Arthur raised a brow, his thin lips hid behind the whiskey glass.

"Because I'll get scolded, silly!"

Arthur didn't think twice -- he never did actually. His grip strengthened a little bit more around your wrist and, without the slightest warning, he pulled you until you tripped on your own feet and fell right on him. As nimble and quick as a cat, the lanky gangster caught you in his arms and made you comfortably sit on his lap.

"Ar-Arthur?!" You hiccuped, eyes wide open and cheeks flushing red.

"Hell, no one's gonna scold ya as long as ya stay in me arms, ay!"

Quickly swept away, your surprise turned into the most irresistible chuckle he had heard for a while. "Only five minutes alright?"

"Nah." Arthur snapped his fingers to get Harry's attention and raised his hoarse voice, "She's taking her night off to drink with me, mate." He shot you a quick glance and, with his smile growing wider, put on a show "By order of the Peaky Blinders!"

No matter how violent people said he was, you couldn’t help but find yourself enthralled by his dangerous aura and carnivorous smile. Moreover, it was needless to say that he never exhibited any of these brutal behaviors with you -- Quite the contrary, you found a loyal guardian in him, who would walk you home each night to ensure you were safe.

"Y/N, you better forget about him right now... You're really going to be in trouble" Harry stated after he noticed that you were dolling you up before the gangster came, rearranging your hair and putting on some awfully expensive lipstick you had brought earlier.

"Is my taste in men that bad for you to worry?" Your light reply didn't make him laugh, quite the contrary.

"I'm not joking! I don't want you to get fucking killed!"

"Killed? Someone's very pessimistic. Everything will be fine, Arthur would never hurt me okay?" You reassured him with the softest voice you could before your attention shifted to the gangster, who had just arrived.

Arthur noticed the lipstick and did seem to like it considering how his steel-blue eyes lingered far longer on your mouth when you talked to him, wondering how beautiful your red lips would look tightly wrapped around his cock but he didn't let his intrusive thoughts show, "Hey little lamb. I've got someth' to ask you."

"Anything?" You early replied, your smile beaming and your eyes shining.

"Apart from my usual whiskey, I'd like something else. There's a bottle of red wine hidden under the bar, I'd like ya to pour one glass of it, I'll be right back."

A glass of wine? Your heart missed a beat at the realization that he had remembered the day you told him you liked red wine. Butterflies flapped their wings in your stomach, convinced that maybe he was finally going to ask you out, you did as he said and, when done, carefully placed the two glasses on the wooden counter. When his booming voice echoed in the pub again, you raised your eyes and smiled, ready to call him but your voice got stuck in your throat.

No.

As you stood there, frozen in shock, your heart seemed to fracture into a thousand tiny pieces at the sight before you. The man you had secretly longed for, the one who had occupied your every thought and fueled your every feverish dream, was accompanied by a young and stunning lass with her arm tightly wrapped around his. Each caress exchanged between Arthur and her, each whispered word, felt like a betrayal. In that moment suspended in time, tears threatened to spill from your eyes. Of course, you already took notice of the wedding ring on his finger, its shining gold shining brighter than the other silver ones he was always wearing but you had tricked yourself into thinking it was only a jewel. After all, he wouldn't have flirted with you if he was married right? That was what you kept telling yourself, and even not entirely convinced you hoped it would eventually turn out to be true if you believed in it strong enough. He was married, here was what was true. Not only he was married, but the woman by his side was so resplendent with her angel face, her long snow-white hair, and her revealing red dress that your heart felt cold.

"So, you are the little lamb, aren't you?" Her mermaid-like voice emphasized the pet name Arthur had given you, snatching you from your numbness. All the confidence you had gained these past months vanished with the sole power of the eerie frost of her eyes, silently telling you that she knew everything. Impatiently waiting for your reply, her dagger-shaped and perfectly polished nails tapped against the wood, their menacing clicking song making another awful realization blossom in your mind.

Harry didn't think about Arthur when he said you would end up killed. He thought about her.

Taglist: @adaydreamaway08 @jomarch-wannabe @esposadomd @zablife @woofgocows @anathemasworld @anastasia0000 @kate654 @kxnnxy @babayaga67 @meowtastick @shelbyssins @sarai-ibn-la-ahad @bluevenus19 @justrainandcoffee @kishie8 @alexandra-001 @dearshelby @alexizodd @helen06dreamer @kmc1989 @emotionalcadaver @peakyswritings @peakyltd @chaosinkest1996 @vanhelsingsbigtoe @cherubswhispers @he6rtshaker @bemyqueenofdarkness @cljordan-imperium @cjarbo @rysko @red-riding-wood

[c-u-c-koo-4-40k]

12 Angry Space Marines or Lullaby's No Good Very Bad Only a Little Good Day - Part 3

(AKA Can we Skip to the Good Part?)

First! A big thanks to @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan for helping write this beast of a piece. And to @sleepyfan-blog , @kit-williams and @egrets-not-regrets for use of their various characters!

Warning: Not much besides descriptions of various spa and self care procedures. We finally get to have FLUFF!

Previous Here

Next One (Under Construction) It's Here!

The First of the Horde

Tags! I Hope you all enjoy!: @kit-williams @sleepyfan-blog @egrets-not-regrets @felinisnoctis @bispecsual

@passionofthesith @beckyninja @bleedingichorhearts @barn-anon @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan

@jaghatai-khock @virozero @angronsjewelbeetle

Summary

Now at the end of a long day our charming gaggle of characters Finally! Get to eat and relax and enjoy some mutual bonding time. Lullaby shows some of the Primaris the wonders of bubble tea and the ultimate relaxation tool, Warm Towels.

…

“Uhhh…11 Boba Teas for…Lullaby?” The delivery person stammers a bit nervously as they hold out bags laden with sweet drinks of various flavors. They seem a bit nervous with the company you have looming behind you.

They also might be nervous because there is another individual making a delivery for your group. He is far more taciturn, and his packages are full of food.

And big, as he's an Astarte, and not one from a group you immediately recognize given he's not in armor. But he's got a rather grisly warped looking face, possibly Chaos inclined. “Food Delivery, Order name's Khopesh.” He grunts. 

You smile, and nod. “Yep, that's me-well Us.” Khopesh carefully (but a bit swiftly) takes the bags as you dig out your wallet and produce two twenties. The payments had been handled digitally as you were placing the order. This was for something else. “Your tips.”

The Astarte accepts the money with a muted. “Thanks.”

The courier's face immediately lights up. “Oh! Ah…thank you. Have a nice day?”

“Same to you.” You smile, and nudge Khopesh with a. “Let's get these back to the spa room.” 

But as you two begin to leave the lobby,, you notice something…interesting. 

The Astarte courier is eyeing the Boba courier, who seems a bit taken by social anxiety at the moment, but they're also not making any attempt to distance themselves from the Astarte. And you in turn feel this odd…compulsion. 

Without even fully thinking about it, you push your mycelium out through your feet, letting the shimmering creepers reach across the floor to both parties. You make sure they barely touch each. 

“Eep!”

You come back to lucidity, only to see the Chaos Astarte now wrapping a gnarled clawed hand around the trembling Boba delivery person's shoulder. 

Oh dear. Shit shit shit shit! Why did you Do That!?

“Lullaby?” Khopesh asks, probably hearing the sudden thundering of your panicking heart. 

“Oh ah…wow…” Okay they're more flushed than panicking, that's a good sign right?

“You, I, bonded.” The Chaos Astarte grunts.

“Oh…OH! That's…”

You feel your teeth on edge.

“Nice! Actually it's ah…Wow. I never thought I'd be- But it's a good thing! You ah, you seem nice.” They say nervously but, with a far more positive tone. Dare you dream to say, they seem even just a little bit…smitten?

The Chaos Astarte responds by actually cracking a small smile.

You let yourself breathe again with a Phew, as the newly bonded pair start conversing. 

“Lullaby…what was that about?” Khopesh asks pointedly. 

Okaaaaay, you will have A Lot to report to Anrir. “I'll tell you later.” You respond and shake your head. You also mildly pick up your pace to get back to the soothing room. 

Now in much more comfortable (and not alcohol sodden) clothes you feel so much more at ease. In fact everyone in your group had taken a moment to change into more comfy civilian wear. Combined with your clothes technically being the pajamas you kept at the base it makes your gathering feel almost like a sleep over.

“We return bearing gifts!” You say proudly, but still quietly with your damaged voice. 

“And make sure you each grab a drink too. I grabbed a few different flavors and types. They're listed on the cups and they all have Boba pearls added.”

You grab the Honeydew tea you'd bought for yourself, and the Whole Fruits Tropical sweet tea you knew was Khopesh's favorite. Then you pass the Boba bag along so the Scouts could have their picks.

While they debate the drink flavors you start rifling through the bags of Astarte sized food. “Okay, so we've got two bloody rare tar-tar sandwiches, one with a fruit cup the other with onion rings.” You pass the bags to Jophiel and Nanael. 

“Ah yes,” “Thank you dear.” The Blood Angels respond as they take their items. 

“Grilled chicken sandwiches plain with curly fries for Rami, and with Ketchup and Onion Rings for Ced.” 

“Thank you.” “Many thanks.” The Black Templars accept their packages carefully.

“Thressl's Venison burger, extra sauce and pepperjack cheese, with seasoned steak fries.” 

“Ah Yes!” The Space Wolf snatches up the food and immediately starts tucking in. 

“Then we've got two crispy fish sandwiches, one with malt vinegar and the other plain. Both with regular salty fries.” 

Claude accepts his sandwich with a kind “Thank You Lullaby.” Kerubiel's acceptance is much more brief with a “Thanks.”

“And finally three double cheeseburgers, one with ketchup and a fruit cup, one with mustard and curlies, the last plain with regular fries.”

“The ketchup one is mine Lullaby.” Khopesh chirps, happily grabbing his meal. 

“Mustard for me Kiddo, pass it here.” Karlsor pipes up which you do. 

“And the last is for me right?” Olly asks politely to which you nod and pass him his food. 

And truly last is yours. A human sized spicy chicken sandwich with ketchup and curly fries. Soon you're all sitting and tucking into the food graciously bought by Khopesh using his kitchen duty pay.

Honestly a chicken sandwich has Never tasted so amazing. You also stab your straw into your Boba and have to hold yourself back from downing it in one gulp. 

Thressl eyes you curiously. “Is that how we're meant to drink this thing?” He swishes the sealed Mango Milk Tea he'd chosen, almost like a child watching a snow globe. 

You nod. “Yep, you drink the tea and suck up the pearls at the bottom. Watch.” You demonstrate, vacuuming up a few pearls and eating them. 

Thressl copies your example, he seems unsure until the drink hits his tongue and-

“MM! Tha's good! Real good!” He howls. “But's a bit inefficient. I think I'll just-”

“Thressl wait it's not meant to-”

Too late. The space wolf rips through the plastic lid before dumping the remainder of the drink into his waiting mouth all at once. Chewing and slobbering like a mastiff as he devours the whole thing in less than a minute. 

“Mmm! Got any more?” Thressl asks eagerly bouncing on his heels, wiping his face with the back of his hand as looks around, he scrunches the cup and tosses it into the trash can easily.

You…didn't know how to respond to that. “Ah…you're really supposed to Sip it…but I'm glad you liked it? And no other full ones.” You explain, as you'd bought exactly 11 and tried to get two of most flavors. “Maybe someone else would share…as long as you don't do that to their drink.”

Thressl turns his eyes to Kerubiel, who had grabbed a brown sugar flavor called Tiger Stripe Tea. “Don't Even Think About it!” He hisses. 

Claude sips his Taro tea, pointedly avoiding the begging space wolf's eyes. And Karlsor goes as far as to snarl over his own Honeydew milk tea. “Not a fuckin chance pup!”

Thressl looks at Cedric and Ramiel. Cedric had grabbed the other Taro, while Ramiel grabbed the other Mango. “I am afraid I don't want to part with this brother.” Ramiel explains. 

“Mm-it is quite good though. Perhaps next time you should try and savor the flavor given to you, instead of downing it all in one gulp.” Cedric posits with juuuuust a hint of sass. 

Thressl huffs, before turning to the other Primaris blood angels; both sipping on Clear Dragon Fruit teas, and clearly enjoying the deep pink drinks with pink fruit chunks. 

Nanael responds politely, but his is another denial.  “Cedric is right Thressl, you've brought this on yourself.”

Jophiel takes a Little more pity, but is also firm. “You may have A Sip.”

If Thressl'd had an actual tail it'd be wagging as he bounds over for his promised sip. 

Khopesh, as one of two older brothers in the room, finds the exchange cute. But he is grateful because if Thressl had asked for his drink…he'd probably have had the same response as Karlsor. 

Meanwhile Olly mulls over his, it's the other Tiger Stripe tea and he seems to be enjoying it. Though he's having to adjust to both drinking and chewing the pearls. It's such an odd combination of sensations, not bad, truly just…strange. Marvelously sweet and milky, but almost too much so, given how little of such delights he'd had access to in his life. 

He certainly didn't think he could finish it all at once like Thressl had, but he enjoys the idea of being able to take a few sips here and there till the drink is depleted. The flavors and textures are nice- he’d almost been caught off guard by the texture of the boba pearls, but they tasted good he had decided.

“I'm glad you all like the flavors.” You say, genuinely.

“The drinks are sweet and good. Astarte may not be picky eaters, but we do still appreciate good tastes.” Cedric assures you. 

“And it would be sacrilege to snuff food offered in kindness.” Ramiel adds, sipping his own tea with a smile. 

“Speaking of offering…” Thressl gives you a cheeky smile and points to Your Honeydew Tea now.

You in turn raise an eyebrow, but Thressl counters with….puppy eyes. 

“Puppy eyes didn't work on my mother, they're not going to work on me.” You respond matter of fact. 

Thressl Actually turns his lip down and juts it out a little more, he's pouting. Full on sad pouting to try and get a bit of your drink. 

You almost feel like giving in just because of the effort. 

“Thressl…” Khopesh warns, firm but not mean…yet. He places a claw-like hand on your shoulder. The Scouts may be Cute but you're his mate, and even cute loyal little brother Scouts don't get to steal food from You. 

“Pleeeeeease?” No matter How Cute they are. 

You decide to avoid the possible incoming conflict, and Thressl did ask nicely. “Go ahead and take a sip.” You peel back the plastic so he doesn't have to use your straw. 

“Ah thank ya Lullab-Y!” Thressl is suddenly yanked back by none other than Kerubiel, your shock alleviates when you hear the Dark Angel growl at his brother. 

“Idiot! Your mouth is probably still full of acid! If it back washes into their drink it could make them ill!”

Kerubiel isn't wrong, all Astarte have some amount of acidic saliva they could produce, namely while eating. Hence why they could kiss without melting off their partner's faces. But it does surprise you to see him…care? 

“D-don't look at me like that! I just don't want to deal with you getting sick! You'd be more annoying if you're belly aching.” Kerubiel hisses. 

“Awwww! My sour puss brother is learn'n to be nice!” Thressl cheers. 

“I am Not a Sour Puss!” Kerubiel hisses now looking like he wants to strangle Thressl. Instead he huffs and turns away from his Wolf brother. 

“Awwww, come on Keru, I'll rub your back and shoulders the way you like?” Thressl offers. 

This seems to make Kerubiel perk up a bit, but he quickly goes back to scowling. “Fine.” 

The exchange makes you smile. And you decide to set your drink to the side. Maybe you could cross the aisle, so to speak. 

“What's going through your Wicked little mind, my love?” Khopesh purrs, bringing his lips down to your cheek. 

You don't respond with words, instead giving your love a nuzzle and a wink before getting up. 

When you'd first come to the soothing room, you'd marveled at the coziness and amenities. It really feels like a weird combo of a small cosmetic store, and a personal spa, but with comfy floors. The chairs are low and similarly shaped for Maximum comfort. Around the perimeter are shelves and drawers (some even temperature controlled!) with a number of travel sized products; individually packaged and ready for use. 

The list includes lotions, cloth face masks, clay masks, sliced cucumbers, massage oils, mineral water, brushes, combs, body and hair spray, and several dozen more things you had no Clear idea how to use, but given the days you've had you want to try it all!

There's even a wall of nail polish colors, which is one of the first things you'd all picked out while waiting for the food. 

You approached the Dark Angel currently having his shoulders massaged…kinda violently if the cracks and pops were anything to go by but he doesn't seem bothered. 

Keru notices your presence, and cracks open an eye. “What do you want?” He growls. 

You tamp down on your first instinct to flinch. But before you can respond Claude pipes up, as he's tending to Khopesh's nails. 

“Be nice, Keru. They want to participate in preening you.” He growls. “So you better appreciate that, and Do Not make them upset.” You kinda have to marvel at how astute Claude is. 

Kerubiel doesn't seem to believe him, and snorts. “Really?” 

You smile and nod, Yes, Yes you do. And you point to the dark green nail polish he'd picked out.

Kerubiel bites his lip, before he responds. “Fine! I will allow you to paint my nails! Will you stop looking at me like that!?”

You smile, and quickly get up to gather some other items. A bowl of warm water, some cuticle oil, and some lotion. 

You motion for him to place his hand in the warm water for a little bit. While that hand sits, you turn to the other, slather some lotion on your hands and begin massaging the hand and forearm. 

As you work, the Dark Angel chews on his lip. As if he's trying to chew his words into shape. “Uh.. I.. should not..Have gone after. Khopesh…that day.”

That- That does surprise you. And apparently Thressl too as he's staring harder at Kerubiel, rather than continuing his massage. 

Kerubiel continues stiltedly “I... aaaa-pologizze for being an. Ass. hole.” He grits out. 

You actually feel a sincere warmth spread in your chest, and you respond in your still raspy voice. “You're right...and I believe you. But I'm not the only one you hurt. How do you feel sweetness?” 

Khopesh hums as he's now painting Claude's nails a dark but shimmery blue, dare you say it looks very much like Nightlord blue. “...Hmm I rate it a 3 out of 5. An effort was made.”

Keru's face takes on an embarrassed red tint as he scowls. 

But Khopesh follows up with. “And I will accept it. But growl at my Lullaby again like you did that day, and I will rip your vocal cords out and string a cello with them.” He snarls, and emphasizes with a threatening point of the nail polish brush. 

Kerubiel's eyes go wide, he can tell the Night lord isn't kidding. “...noted.” He agrees 

Despite the rocky start at this point…you can't find it in yourself to hold a grudge. You and the boys toppled a real bastard together so as long as he doesn't go after your Khopesh with real malice again, you're happy to treat him like a friend.

Which naturally includes pulling his soaking hand from the bowl, drying it with a towel, and proceeding to gently push back his cuticles with an appropriate tool so you can start painting his nails. 

Delicately you apply the shiny heather green nail polish, to each finger on each hand while Thressl continues massaging his brothers back and shoulders. 

By the end Kerubiel looks distinctly more relaxed, and his nails are glistening green. Dare you say you've done a good job. But you await his judgment. 

Kerubiel looks over his painted nails with an unreadable expression, though honestly his neutral really did always have a grumpy edge. Claude is also looking over, seemingly waiting on his response.

“It is, acceptable. Thank You for your time.” He says.

Awwwww! That really does make you feel happy, and it must be showing on your face because he turns away with a hint of blush on his cheeks.

“Oi! Me next. Move Keru!” Thressl huffs, sitting down with a thump, which causes Keru to hiss a little. But he does oblige. 

Only to snag one of Thressl's braids in one hand, his arm in the other, and haul him up to start giving him the mutual massage by…wrestling him. You suddenly feel the need to move. 

“This is what you get for being pushy!” Keru hisses. 

“Ack! Git offa me I want my nails done ya Git!” Thressl growls back. 

“I'M GONNA SKIN BOTH YOU IDIOTS IF YOU DAMAGE ANYTHING!” Karlsor snarls, jumping up from his massage, and moving to separate the bickering Astarte. 

You clamber back only to feel yourself getting swooped back out of the fray. And swooped is the right word and you land near a pair of large wings. Actually two pairs, you're not sure which Blood Angel grabbed you but you're grateful. 

“Thank You.” You rasp, righting yourself. 

“I'm so sorry Lullaby.” Jophiel fusses, looking you over. 

“It seems Keru and Thressl haven't learned how to mind humans in their trampling range.” Nanael comments dryly as he watches Karlsor and now Khopesh get involved. 

You'll have to get back to Thressl it seems. For now there's no reason you can't do something nice for Jophiel and Nanael. 

But…it seems their nails are already done. And Jophiel is currently getting back to  running a brush through Nanael’s blond and red streaked hair. Hmm..

You pick up a nearby brush, and point to Jophiel's hair. 

“You…want to brush my hair?” Jophiel asks, to which you nod eagerly. And you also remember something. 

You run over to a nearby drawer and root around, pulling out a few “flavors” of hair cologne, which you then present to Jophie. 

“Hmm…I think I would like…the Strawberry scent.” You smile and nod. You also grab some massage oil for his neck and shoulders. 

It takes a moment for Jophiel to adjust himself so he's sitting behind Nanael, and you can reach his short hair. 

First you take your hands, and massage the scalp from which you hear a light trilling. Jophiel even flutters his wings a little, and you hold yourself back from touching them. You had not been given permission and you're not going to assume. 

Then you apply the hair cologne to the brush and begin running it through the short strands. The trilling becomes a little louder, and you…remember the conversation you'd wanted to have. 

“I ah…I wanted to say sorry too.” You mumble, as you continue brushing. 

You see Jophiel's wings twitch a bit, and he glances back at you. “For what?”

You take a moment to gather your thoughts. Things had calmed down, and Thressl and Kerubiel had now properly swapped places, and Khopesh was handling the slightly pouty Space Wolf's nails. 

“For yesterday,” You reply, now grabbing the massage oil, and beginning to press on the Blood Angel's shoulders. “I didn't help soon enough and when I did…I ended up…I'm so sorry you had to do that. With the…scream.” 

Jophiel doesn't know how to respond for a moment. “...I don't regret helping you. If I hadn't you might've…” He trails off. 

“But that's not all.” You say. “Given what happened…I'm clearly not your first experience with…someone who has…” Now you trail off, you decide to not risk going into detail, instead you wiggle your fingers to imply magic. “I should have realized. But I just…kinda wrote you off. I could've reached out or talked or done…something to help you feel more at ease around me but I-”

Jophiel interrupts with insistence.“But I shouldn't have been so cold to y-”

“Lullaby, Jophiel…”

You both perk up, at Nanael saying your names. “Rest assured you are Nothing like that…individual.”

I mean, that's obvious but still your power conceivably came from a similar place. And if you put your hand in front of a dog and got bitten would you stick your hand in front of a different dog?

And did the different dog have Any right to feel offended when the bitten was shy from them? No that dog would seem like an ass. Which you kind of felt like. 

“And Jophiel you said yourself that you would not make the mistake of coldness to Lullaby again.” Nanael continued. “Your actions saved us yesterday. And Jophiel's actions saved you. We cannot change the past…but we can forge our future. And I think you've both demonstrated a Desire to make it a better future together.”

“Let us leave blame to the past. Now is the time to focus on reaffirming connections. And move forward with better communication. Do you think you can both do that?”

Wow that was…really profound. You glance at Jophiel, who locks eyes with you. You smile. And he does the same. “I'd like that.” You say, quiet but genuine. 

Jophiel nods. “I would like that as well.” He affirms, and goes back to brushing and styling Nanael's hair. 

Communication, with that in mind you look to the area where his wings meet his back. “Jophie, are you alright with me massaging the base of your wings?”

Jophiel hums. “You may, just be careful not to bend the larger feathers back too much.” 

You smile and do as Jophiel asks. The trilling comes back as you carefully work your hands to the muscles that split from his back.

“What about you Nanael? Are you okay with wing touching?”

Nanael thinks for a moment. Normally he'd only feel secure letting other Primaris touch his wings. Karlsor and Khopesh are trusted by Claude, but they are also firstborn, and some scars from those kinds of older Brothers are still too Fresh in his mind but you…

A slew of memories drift to the front of his mind. He recalls times on the battlefield and in conflict, when he would swoop down and fly human civilians to safety. 

They would often marvel at his wings with a mix of wonder and reverence. Especially the children, the children of the imperium loved his wings, he remembers the way they'd burrow their faces and hands in as he spirited them away from danger. 

How they'd plead for him to pick them up again, and hold them in his wings even after they'd been rescued. He’d occasionally given them loose feathers as a gift, the awe and joy on their faces. How some of his kinder older brothers would preen his wings gently after those little children and rescue missions had ruffled and even sometimes bent those feathers out of place. 

He…he almost feels tears come to his eyes. He didn't realize…how much he misses those times. 

“I would like you to groom my wings,” Nanael says blinking his eyes rapidly, “It would be very kind of you if you did, don’t tug on them too harshly. Please.”

You nod. “Of course.” But while you could fumble through massaging the muscles at the base, you felt less confident tackling the larger structure. “Jophie can you show me how to preen properly on his right wing, and I'll try to mimic it on the left.”

“Of course,” The younger Blood Angel affirms, soon you're both resettled behind Nanael. 

Jophiels points out pin feathers that need to be handled gently on his side and you mimic it on yours. He shows you how to run your fingers through the feathers like you might run them through hair to make them more neat, and he shows you how to stretch, scratch and massage the tissue underneath. 

 

Nanael trills, and you take extra care to not tug too harshly. 

As you and Jophiel work for a while, another approaches. It's Olly and he seems like he needs something. 

“What's up Olly?” You ask, pausing your literal preening for a moment. 

The Ultramarine grins sheepishly. “I wanted to ask for your aid with the machine in the corner. I'm uncertain how to make it work, or what it is supposed to dispense.”

You glance curiously in the direction Olly mentions and indeed there is a small metal…box? It has buttons and dials and you'd also admit you hadn't really paid much attention to it when you'd come in. 

“One sec. Jophiel, are you okay taking over?”

The Blood Angel nods. “I can handle this from here.” And Nanael encourages you to  “Go ahead and help Olly.”

You get up and approach the machine, which Cedric and Ramiel are also looking over.

“This is not a device I am familiar with.” Cedric hums. 

Ramiel chimes in as well “I am still rusty with the written symbols and language from this instance of Terra. And I do not wish to break anything. Do you know what they say?”

You don't immediately recognize the use for the dials though one seems to be temperature related, but you know an open switch when you see it. So you press it and the lid pops open revealing.

“Towels?” You ponder, pulling one out to inspect it. It's actually a little warm to the touch. Then it hits. “OOh! Warm Towels!”

You place the towel back in, set the temperature dial, and press what you assume is the start button. The machine clicks on, and you hear a sound similar to a microwave. 

“In just a few minutes we'll have warm towels!” You clap happily. 

“Oh alright…what shall we do until then?” Olly asks. 

You motion for Olly, Cedric and Rami to sit down and they do. You then retrieve a few other items. Another hairbrush, the hair colognes, a few cloth face masks, and a small pot full of exfoliating clay mask paste. 

“I have a feeling y'all might like one of these.” You offer the mask items to the Astartes, who seem a little lost on what to do. 

“Oh here. One sec.” You rip open the cloth mask packaging, and hold up the item so he can see the eye and mouth holes. “You place it over your face. It's good for your skin.”

Cedric and Ramiel take their own cloth masks and apply them. Olly doesn't seem convinced. Or maybe something else is turning him off of it. Of course Lullaby doesn't need to nor will he tell you of the…things he's seen done with human face skin back in his time. He suppresses a shudder and reaches for the mask. 

The texture on his fingers makes a visible shudder get through. He…he does Not want this on his face. You do pick up his discomfort. 

“Is something wrong?” Cedric asks, beating you to asking. 

Olly shakes his head. He is Stronger than this. He's not going to let the disgusting, slimy, thin, wet ugly thing-

“Olly, if you don't like it, you don't have to use it.” You assure him. 

“But…you offered it- It would be b-bad manners.” You take the mask from his trembling hand and toss it into the trash. 

“I'm honestly not the biggest fan of them either.” You shrug. “But some like them, see?” You gesture over to where Khopesh has placed a cloth mask on his face and is making a show of getting into other's peripheral visions. Which is causing some merry annoyance. Thressl is peeling out his own face mask to have a face off. 

“But,” You say, bringing Olly's attention back to you. “It's perfectly okay to not like something, even if it's offered to you.” You pop open the small pot of clay exfoliating mask with the small gritty beads and hold it out to Olly. “See if you like this kind better.”

Oleanderos does like this one's scent and appearance better already. He dips in a finger, and the grit reminds him of Tiiiiny pieces of gravel. 

And now in a moment of a completely different kind of weakness-

“Homf.” He places his fingers in his mouth. The soapy taste is Not the best to his pallette, even with the nice earthy clay beneath. “Bleh…”

“Olly! You're not supposed to do that!” Ramiel says frantically. 

“Hmm? Oh right…how am I meant to apply this?” He asks honestly. 

You smile, and scoop up some of the mask onto your hand. “Here, like this.” You gently paint the Ultramarine's face with the gritty mask, until the surface is green save for his eyelids and mouth. 

Ramiel watches and then remarks. “I think I would like to try that as well.” You nod and help Rami apply the mask after you finish with Olly and he removes the cloth one he'd tried. 

He hums as you go about your work. Him and Olly have the same thoughts that indeed the cool, rough, sweet smelling mask is a blissful combo of sensations. Just as you finish his face, the timer on the towel machine dings. 

You hop up and pull out the several towels that had been heated, and the heat is a bit much on your fingers, just for the moment though. 

Olly feels his eyes drifting closed and purrs rumble in his chest as the warm but not wet cloth is placed gently over the back of his neck. 

“Ah thank You Lullaby.” “Indeed, thank you.” The two Black Templars sigh happily, and you can actually hear their slight purring in response. 

Next is Karlsor who lets out an equally relaxed sound. “Ah thanks Kiddo. That feels amazing.”

Khopesh follows, which you give an additional kiss to the cheek as you lay the towel over his shoulders. “Rrrrrrr, lovely my lovely.”

Then Claude, who chirps. “Thank you Lullaby.” And gives you a quick squeeze. And on you go until you make it back to Olly, Cedric and Rami. 

Then you pick up some massage oil, rub it over your hands, and begin working the Ultramarine's neck and shoulders.

Your strength wasn't exceptional so your attempts to massage felt more like a kitten pushing its paws in, but he still appreciates the gesture. 

It was more for affirmation. All this. Did Astarte need oils and lotions and warm towels (oh throne the warm towels were amazing...he was so glad he asked for your help with the machine) no...

But they did need to collaborate and reaffirm bonds when there was conflict. It made their lives of constant battle even Slightly easier. Cedric and Ramiel clearly have their own rhythm established from years spent together. Even the popping and stretching of the mutual massage currently taking place seems well practiced. 

Olleanderos realizes in that moment he'd become...complacent. This world- Terra (throne he still couldn't fully believe he was here) is so peaceful. So wonderful, despite the presence of annoyances like Algeret. 

But there is Still Danger. He cannot let himself become even less vigilant. Especially not now. His eyes shift back towards you, now picking up a brush and a nice smelling hair cologne he'd picked out. 

He would not be Complacent again.

You brush Olly's short hair, and spritz a bit of the blueberry cologne he'd picked. A  warm pride fills your heart as Olly purrs quietly. 

You're about to reach for more massage oil when-

"Hold on you." 

"OOop!" You're suddenly snatched at the waist and hauled into a familiar lap. You glance up to see your cheeky Khopesh grinning down at you with his mirthful black eyes. 

"You are also meant to be getting soothed, my Lullaby. But you've buzzed around caring for each of us and not held a spot of time for yourself." He purrs, petting you softly. "Claudy please get my Lullaby's preferred nail polish. And younger cousin Olly please fetch another warm towel."

"On it." "Yes brother,"

"But I want to - ulp!" Your unfinished Boba tea was placed to your mouth by none other than Nanael. 

"You should relax and focus on finishing your drink. You've been running around all day and only just properly nourished yourself."

I mean you couldn't argue but you Liked caring for others. Khopesh takes the drink, and angles it so you can still sip. 

"Here is a hairbrush Brother Cousin Khopesh, and they mentioned enjoying the hair cologne." Jophiel said bringing those items as well. "Which scent would you prefer?"

"...Mango sounds good." You say reaching for the hairbrush on habit. 

Only for Khopesh to gently take your arm and direct it back to Claude who's grabbed the massage oil and the nail polish you picked out earlier. 

"Ah ah ah. Soothing time Lullaby. Why don't you let Brother Cousin Jophiel brush your hair instead? I am sure he'd like to return the favor you did for him."

You feel a bit like pouting but...if letting Jophie care for you would make him happy you'd oblige. "Alright." You accept your fate of being cared for. 

Soon a warm towel is placed over your shoulders, and it's now, finally sitting down without a task that you realize. 

You are So Damn Tired. 

And lying against Khopesh like this, like you've done so many times before but also not…because you're part of an even bigger family now then you ever could've hoped for…

You feel yourself beginning to drift. Even while Jophiel gently brushes your hair on one side while Nanael handles the other. Claude does one hand of nails, while Thressl massages the other arm. Olly uses his height and reach to carefully apply the clay mask to your face. Once that's done you let yourself completely slump against Khopesh, laying your head on his collarbone more or less. As you doze you hear Kerubiel, Cedric, Ramiel and Karlsor tidying up and putting things away. 

Then the room dims, and the urge to rest pulls you even further down. You feel…

Warm…

Cared for…

Safe…

“I love you as well my sweet little Lullaby.” You feel Khopesh's lips pressing gently to the bridge of your nose, you feel his body shift to lay back, effectively serving as a mattress. While the others get into their own sleeping positions in the pile. 

You snuggle in closer, mumbling a similar message back before finally giving yourself permission to rest. 

You've never felt more loved. 

…

The door to the soothing room creaks open and from the hallway silently steps an ancient creature of darkness, a proprietor of fear and terror and.. 

“Mmm? Father?” Claude mumbles, waking slightly. 

Ah yes, his most prized title. “Shhhh, it is alright Claude.” He hushes. “Go back to sleep, my son. I merely need to converse with Khopesh and Karlsor.”

The latter of which responds with a growl under his breath. “I was having a Damn good sleep so make it quick old man.” He grouses quietly, carefully getting up so as not to disturb the Scouts piled around him. 

Khopesh almost considers feigning deep sleep, but…

“Khopesh…”

Yeah, better to handle this now. Khopesh lets out a long huff, but carefully shifts you, and indeed you must be very knocked out because you barely twitch as he lays you down in the spot he was just in. 

“Mrmfm…hmm…” You mumble, shifting in your sleep. 

Khopesh's mind almost short circuits. You're so damn Cute so So So fucking Cuuuute arghgkstjebrhr! He takes a deep breath and Forces himself to turn to Anrir. 

Anrir motions for them to move to the hallway which they do. “What is it you need from us?” He asks his father. 

“In all the excitement, we neglected to properly count your vote, my son.”Anrir clarifies. “Despite your original statement on the matter I did not want to assume.”

Ah right…the vote. If he's to be fully honest. The preening and mutual care session had been so relaxing he'd actually forgotten about the Silver Bastard rotting in chains somewhere. He'd immersed himself so completely in the affirmation of his found family of Battle Brothers, and the tender affection given by you. 

He glances back to the room where you're still sleeping, through the tinted glass door. He might have continued if not for Claude suddenly twitching in his sleep. 

“Ah shit, that looks like a vision coming.” Karlsor spits quietly. “I'll get-”

“No,” Anrir says, putting an arm on Karlsor's shoulder. “Examine, but do not interfere.”

“Seriously!?” Karlsor hisses, in response. Only to balk when Anrir gives him the ‘don't argue’ look. “Fine! Geez.”

As instructed Karlsor pulls on his warp sight. He sees the Scouts auras, as well as yours as he's become accustomed to seeing and…

“Mmr-mph!” He bites his lip as he sees Claude shiver and twitch in his sleep. His Aura is flaring brighter, tell tale signs of a vision coming on hard and fast. He wants to help his Scout younger brother, but Anrir's hand on his shoulder holds him back. 

But what happens next does surprise him. 

“Mm…hrf…” He sees your brows furrow, and you turn on your side, almost like…you can sense Claude's distress. Your arm and your mycelium actually reach toward the Ravenguard Primaris and when your hand makes contact with Claude's…

“Mmph!…hrm…mmmm…zZz…” His twitching calms, his aura fades back to its usual brightness, and he turns toward your still sleeping form. Your mycelium grow brighter as they usually do when absorbing power. 

“Well shit…” Karlsor swears. “No wonder I've been sleeping so well…speaking of which…” Before he can be stopped Karlsor swiftly steps back into the soothing room and retakes his place in the sleeping arrangement. 

Anrir is not pleased with the display. “Karlsor! I require your findings.” He hisses

The shade wearing Night lord promptly ignores his father and mouths “Report Later. Fuck you it's nap time.” Before laying back amidst the comfy pile. 

He Knows he's gonna get scolded later for that, but being that he's very cozy, comfortable and Not in massive amounts of warp pain he doesn't really care. He’ll take his lumps from Anrir later, but nap time now.

Khopesh suppresses a chuckle at his father's misfortune, and his brother's antics. 

He…he loves them all so much. And he especially loves you of course. And of course…that means his answer is simple.

“Live” …But not easy. 

Anrir raises an eyebrow, and seems legitimately surprised. “Are you certain?”

“If the fool decides to cross us we can always kill him later.” Khopesh says with a shrug. “And right now…I have more important things to care for than dealing with his transgressions.”

“I am…impressed, my son.” Anrir says and he Does mean it. In the field Khopesh was like a living avatar of vengeance, his proclivity for hunts proved time and again his devotions. 

But love…it does change devotions. Anrir knew this himself. He'd burn down entire star systems for his Draga, but he also understood that to have her and her love forever as his, the opposite may also need to be true. 

It was a sincere act of maturity from his son, and for that… “Then I shall alter my vote as well.” Anrir says proudly. “The half point I put towards death will be moved to life. This way we need not worry about finding a tie breaker.” The old Nightlord explains. 

Khopesh smiles, and feels a warmth in his chest. Vada and Muti are his bonded, his adopted parents, you are his love and mate. But part of him will Never abandon his original father. The Night lord who first cut and stitched him back into being. 

Anrir gently gestures back to the room. “Go, enjoy your rest.” He says kindly. “You'll no doubt need it for what comes next.”

“Will you not join us?” Khopesh asks. 

Anrir smiles, beneath the blood and viscera truly is a sweet child in Khopesh. “Perhaps another time, there is work to be done and not all the Primaris trust me as they do you and Karlsor.”

Khopesh nods in understanding. Then he silently creeps back into the dimmed room, and lays himself next to you again, enfolding you into his embrace from behind while still letting you comfort Claude. 

He purrs as he feels your heartbeat, he hears your breath rise and fall, he listens to the similar sounds of his Battle Brothers and cousins around him. He thinks of his Vada and Muti, and feels in the comforting warmth of his bond that they are safe and sound at his other nest. Out of sight, but never out of mind. 

He is home.

[literally-noone83]

Breathe Easy

Draken x Fem!reader

Synopsis: Draken comes by your place at night only to find out you've been stuck in a household full of screaming and yelling.

A/n: Another short oneeee. Writing juice on low. But I hope you like this comfort fic. Also of you have any requests or ideas for fics please send them in, I'd happy to look at it. Might spark a new writing piece or if I like it enough, I'll write what you suggest :)) Ok enjoy! ALSO, can't reply to comments yet. But to the love given for my Loki fic THANK YOUUUU.

He saunters down dampened roads and over the faint, flickering spots of light from streetlights that buzzed softly. Slanted and with the lingering smell of rust and rain, it marked the neglect of these metropolitan roads. He breezes through the long alleyways and the small spaces between brick walls where every ounce of light is evaporated under the high moon. Only the rare silouhette passes by in his distance or the echoe of reving cars.

His hands rest comfortably in his pockets as he wandered through the blocks of apartments, and dingey homes sat on the outskirts of the city. He knew them like the back of his hand. Needn't stop once or look over his shoulder. He can hear the crisp air whistle in his ear and every mile away car. Even if he was to be attacked it wasn't an issue to Toman's vice-leader.

His nerves rest easy. All that's on his mind is getting to where he needed to be.

Nearing the apartment complexes that sit almost side by side, he made his way over to one of the windows just above the ground. Lined on the floor, there were the partial basement housings. His eyes glided over the dirtied cement, the way the barred widows glisten with droplets that run down its faces. Many of them had its curtains drawn. It was midnight after all. Everyone should be asleep but amidst the lot, his eyes flickered with familiarity at the one that was never fully drawn at this hour. A warm glow from a lamp he knew kissed the edges of the lower window as he drew near.

Naturally the end of his lip curve up softly at the sight. He stops at the foot of it before crouching down, beside your window into your room. He tilts his head to see you at your desk beside that small lamp as expected. However... his eyes peered over your slouched figure upon not textbooks upon textbooks but rather a comic. Strange, he thought.

Casually, he leans forward and knocks on your window. He watched your head snap towards him in somewhat of a shock. He noticed the way your eyes don't light up or the way you don't instantly smile. Instead, you're quick to move over to him and pull the window open before sitting back down.

"I thought you had patrol." You go back to the comic you left open. His smile has long disappeared.

"Finished... thought you'd be studying." He hums lowly. On cue a loud thud ricochet off the wall followed by barking voice of anger that overlapped one another.

Furrowed brows etch his complexion with worry as his eyes instantly dart over to your unflinching self. You continued to stare at your comic. With the way your eyes were distilled upon the animated drawings, he wondered how long you've been re-reading that same page.

"Couldn't think..." You finally murmur.

He let's out a silent sigh. "Should I-"

"They're fine... just angry as usual. And stupid."

His eyes danced over your expression carefully, but it doesn't move.

"Have they been at it all day?"

There's a momentary hesitation in your eyes and he watches shame wash over you like it's your fault. You hum softly not once looking at him.

Draken has seen that face before. Distant and quietly fuming, so unlike the unceasing smiles, bubbling and maniacle laughter, and that endless sarcasm that makes your eyes glimmer. At times, Draken truly wondered how two emotionally unstable and temperamental people could produce someone like you and let their shitty relationship weigh on their child this much.

Over the years knowing you, Draken never saw anything affect your mood as your parents' big blowout fights did. Draken never had parents, and despite growing up under the roof of a brothel that had its own varying imperfections, he could only imagine how hefty it was to be an only child isolated between walls that shook with the yells and screaming of parents love that's meant to warm them.

An unadulterated scream echoes, like a child throwing a tantrum before more barking follows; empty threats of money loss, divorce, cheating and who knows what more. The dull look in your eyes that stares blankly, he could see the hurt you never like showing. But he can see it.

His jaw ticks. He hated you being there alone. He quickly looks around, down both the empty wet streets.

"Hey." He said suddenly.

"You should go." You still don't look at him.

"Hey."

"They'll stop soon."

"I said hey."

"What?" You snap your head towards him, a hint of irritation.

Your gaze met his through the bars where he crouches. He taps on the metal.

"Let's go." It's not a question. It's a soft demand.

The crease between your brows smooths at the mere of idea of escaping. Your lips part, eyes unsure.

"I- draken I can't."

"You can. Come with me." He says again. "C'mon you've done it before."

You sigh at his persistence. "It's midnight."

"And this is a fucking shit hole." He deadpan. "Let's get out of here."

He coxed a brow at you in challenge as you looked at him sternly. Immediately his gaze softens into something assuring and pleading. "Cmon, Y/n... let them have it out. You don't have to listen to their shit."

You take a deep breath before shutting your comic and reaching into your draw for a key. You climb up and unlock the window gate. Draken stands back, swinging the gate open and reaching down to help you up through the window.

"God, they're gonna kill me." You grunt as you find your footing. Draken takes the key and shuts up your window and locks the gate.

"No they won't." He says it so self-assured. Not because he's sure you won't get caught sneaking out but because he'd never let anyone harm you, not even your damned parents.

"You're right, they'd come after you." You poke at him, a smile threatening your lips.

His ears perk up at the tingue of your familiar words. He straightens, looking down at you with a smirk.

"Good. Can't wait to actually meet them." His voice is unsuspecting, but his comment is playful. His dry sarcasm makes you roll your eyes and shake your head to hide the humoured grin that breaks out on your lips. You couldn't help yourself. If anything, everything in you chanted you shouldn't be smiling. Shouldn't even remotely feel like smiling after such a shitty day contained in a cage of torment. But with Draken, you let slip a rather quiet and sarcastic comment, and all of a sudden the end of your lips twitch, and you felt like laughing.

A satisfied smile blooms on his lips as he catches your small smile. There it was. That Sass. That impeccable humour that cracks at the smallest of things. That smile.

There's my girl, he thought.

He takes your hand, forcing you to meet his gaze.

"Let's have fun, yea?"

You sober up and a genuine smile takes its place on your lips. Even in darkness, he could see the stars dance in your eyes. You held a softening gaze, and your shoulds deflated as if all stresses were slowly leaving you willingly and happily. With an expression that said through unspoken words he didn't need you to ever say aloud, 'I'm glad you're here.' That 'I feel safe with you.'

"To the park?" You asked, a twinge of childish hope in your voice.

That knowing look in his eyes said yes, and that was all you needed before you were tugging him forward then letting go in a spontaneous race to get there first.

At home you felt like you couldn't breathe. Those walls felt so close together. Outside knowing Draken was a few spaces behind or beside you, you could breathe. Puffing out white smokes of cold air from your lungs after running down the street, giggling and hushing one another in empty pathways and swinging on swings under the streetlight hazy glow.

With you, the dark alleyways and wet tar roads weren't so mundane. Cold rainy nights like that one, sauntering down cramped homes and dingey parks weren't so uninviting. Long nights didn't feel so long, and lonely walks didn't feel so lonely. With you, the moon wasn't the most beautiful sight in the night anymore...

Without having to say it or proclaim it, you both wordlessly save each other from your own endeavours. With one another, you could breathe easy. With one another, you were a little less alone. With one another, you felt safe and, most importantly, alive.

[stargirlie-sharon]

as a chronically ill person who is in remission, i have a bit on my mind i want to speak about

whenever i look at comforting posts relating to chronic illness, it, well, comforts me. a great deal, in fact. if it's a piece of writing of a character if they were to take care of another character/the reader while they're having a flare up, i'd gladly read through all of it. i may sometimes make said comforting content too, like headcanoning "what if this character had this chronic condition?", or writing a oneshot, it brings me comfort and makes me feel seen and happy, and i bet it brings joy to others as well!

but i find myself wondering- i'm currently completely asymptomatic of my condition, should be it ok for me to find comfort in content like this? when i'm not even experiencing the effects of my condition?? am i even valid for wanting comfort for my condition even after it passed?

i've been wondering about it for a while. there are all these people going through such painful and discomforting situations that they have to deal with almost daily, and yet here i am, not even going through the things that they endure. it's completely reasonable, valid and normal for those to seek for reassurance and whatnot because of something they went through/going through right now. but me? i'm not going through what they're experiencing. why do i keep wanting to find so much comfort/reassurance for those who are chronically ill? i mean, i am technically chronically ill, but i'm in remission. that time, that flare up- has already passed. i'm functioning like a normal human being with (mostly) normal health. why do i keep wanting comfort for something that has already passed?

i've questioned it for some time, but i eventually came to the conclusion- it IS okay to want comfort because of something that has already happened in the past. it doesn't even need to be chronic illness related. for instance, maybe you went through a traumatic event in your childhood. things like that could scar you deeply, and it's natural to seek comfort despite it happening years ago. it's part of the healing process.

i've had my condition (psoriasis) for a while. the flare ups? agonizing. the pain that came from the psoriatic arthritis? could barely stand without feeling like your joints are on fire. don't even get me started on the freaking dry skin. the pieces of my dead skin that came from my stupidly fast rate of my skin cell growth? i despised it.

whenever i got flare ups, it would destroy me. my skin was deterioating and over producing itself at the same time. my body was basically on fire. the only way i could describe all of this in one word is hell

it hurt me. it really did hurt me. physically, mentally and emotionally. i've gradually gotten to manage my emotions slightly more better as time went on, but during my first flare up, i was crying constant tears on a almost daily basis

i think part of the reason why i like looking at chronic illness posts and finding comfort in them is because of that. i went through a really tough time, and during then (and now), i wanted reassurance, comfort and support. it helped me cope. my condition still affects me somewhat, even during remission. i have to avoid trigger foods (cries.. ik it's for the best but wdym i can't have cheese anymore D:), take a bunch of supplements/meds, etc..

so, i think it's ok to want comfort, even during remission. you're not going through it right now, but you still want to find support, because after what it did to you? it's completely reasonable.

thank you for reading, whew this was kinda long! if anyone who thought the same way as me (questioning if you're valid for wanting reassurance despite you in remission/not going through it currently), i hoped this help and maybe gave you some reassurance.

[d-criss-news]

How Sondheim and Burnett Got Darren Criss to Provincetown

Provincetown hasn’t been compared to The Godfather or Star Wars very often, but those are the examples actor and singer Darren Criss names in acknowledging that his July 21 town hall appearance will be his first visit here.

“Provincetown is like that movie that you haven’t seen but you don’t want your friends to know you haven’t seen, so you don’t incur their wrath and ridicule and disbelief,” he says, noting that several of his good pals visit often. “I don’t bring up that I haven’t been there because my friends will give me crap. I haven’t avoided it — I’ve really wanted to go. Finally, the stars aligned quite nicely.”

Maybe the stars had a little help from Carol Burnett.

Host and accompanist John McDaniel, a Grammy and Emmy award-winning musician, says he invited Criss to be part of his summer Broadway series here after Criss performed on 2023’s Carol Burnett: 90 Years of Love + Laughter TV birthday special. McDaniel was the music director.

Criss’s best-known roles are his breakout portrayal of Blaine for five seasons (2010 to 2015) on Glee in a milestone-for-mainstream-TV gay romance with Chris Colfer’s Kurt, and his 2018 Emmy- and Golden Globe-winning turn as spree killer Andrew Cunanan in The Assassination of Gianni Versace: American Crime Story. (Both roles came thanks to producer and Provincetown part-timer Ryan Murphy.)

In addition to acting and singing — including Glee’s “Teenage Dream” cover that climbed the Billboard charts — Criss is a songwriter. He first won notice for co-writing and starring in 2009’s A Very Potter Musical parody for the Chicago-based StarKid Productions, which he co-founded. Criss’s A Very Darren Crissmas generated national holiday tours.

Shortly after Criss wrote the opening number for the 2022 Tony Awards, his friend Paul Miller, director of the Burnett tribute, asked him to refashion Stephen Sondheim’s “Side by Side” from Company into an homage to Burnett’s famous duets with celebrity guest stars.

In what he called “one of the coolest things I’ve ever gotten to be a part of,” Criss performed “Burnett’s Duets” for the star-studded birthday-party special with Broadway’s Sutton Foster. That came after he meticulously dissected Sondheim’s music to fit new lyrics and fine-tuned the arrangement with McDaniel.

“When I was doing this,” Criss says, “in my mind, I was going, ‘What would the ghost of Sondheim be OK with?’ ”

More Broadway music will be on Criss’s mind in Provincetown for what he says will be an unusual program because it likely won’t include original work or him playing guitar or piano; McDaniel will accompany him. Criss prides himself on not performing the same live show twice and plans to include Broadway songs he’s not yet sung in public.

That said, he recognizes fans might want to hear something connected to his own Broadway star turns. Those include — besides the nonmusical American Buffalo in 2022 — How to Succeed in Business Without Really Trying in 2012 and 2015’s Hedwig and the Angry Inch. Plus, earlier this year, Criss starred in off-Broadway’s Little Shop of Horrors.

In September, he’ll originate a Broadway role for the first time, headlining Will Aronson and Hue Park’s musical Maybe Happy Ending. Criss plays an outdated, retired robot in futuristic Seoul who explores the nature of love with another retired robot (Helen J. Shen). To try to help boost its U.S. profile, Criss is also a producer of the musical, which has been a hit in Korea, China, and Japan. Its Broadway debut will be directed by Michael Arden (2023 Tony Award for Parade, Spring Awakening), a longtime Criss friend who directed the English-language debut in 2020 in Atlanta.

Criss is excited but nervous about the piece; he says it’s intimate and epic at once. “There’s an excitement about the uniqueness and specialness of this show that I’ve never encountered before,” he says. “So that’s either going to crash and burn and blow up in our faces or catch on. I don’t know, but the prospect is very thrilling.”

Criss, who is straight, made headlines this spring for comments at a Chicago expo about being “culturally queer” because of his admiration for the LGBTQ community. “The things in my life that I have tried to emulate, learn from, and be inspired by are 100 percent queer,” he said then, later adding that “it was in queer communities that I’ve found people that I idolize, that I want to learn something from.”

“That had to be the slowest news day ever,” Criss says about his comments getting attention — especially because he’s talked many times before about similar things, including how much it meant to be part of Glee’s Blaine-Kurt relationship story.

Beyond Provincetown and Broadway, in August Criss’s voice will be heard in an unusual spot: on season 10 of Netflix’s Gabby’s Dollhouse, a children’s show, as the new Marty the Party Cat, magical host of the Party Room. It’s a voice role Criss says was planned long before his two-year-old daughter and seven-week-old son were born to him and his wife.

Marty is described by Netflix as a lovable, “exuberant goofball” who has a big heart and the ability to laugh at himself.

“He’s a fun guy,” Criss says. “I’m aspirationally Marty the Party Cat.”

[ifangirlalot]

hi omg, can you please write a Finn x Reader where they meet on the set of stranger things, it's kind of weird/awkward at first, they don't know why though (it's tension you idiots), but they gradually become closer, it's just a lot of fluff and mutual pining, maybe jealousy? idk, but, I'd love for you to write this, thank youuuu

ˏˋ 𝐇𝐎𝐏𝐄��𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐋𝐘 𝐏𝐈𝐍𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 ˎˊ˗ | starring finn wolfhard

I was way too excited for this request oh. my. god.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

~fluff!~ [𝖜𝖆𝖗𝖓𝖎𝖓𝖌𝖘:] n/a

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

Finn's POV

She's only going to be here for the next couple days at the most. It's usually pretty frowned upon for actors to have a thing for their co-stars, though of course it tends to happen quite frequently, especially if you work together for years on a show as a love interests.

But the thing is, [Name] isn't my co-star. I don't even have any scenes with her. She's just here as an extra, she'll be gone by next week. And yet... I can't stop thinking about her. I've had to pretend to be in love, infatuated, obsessed, countless times. But to actually feel it is a totally different feeling. My heart keeps slamming against my ribcage so often that there's points I'm actually scared it might break one or something. I'm no doctor, so I'm not entirely sure that's even possible, but whatever.

Pulling me from my thoughts is the voice of one of the producers. Apparently, I've accidently messed up another scene. And even worse yet, she's caught me staring and is staring back, directly into my eyes. My cheeks burn against my face and the tingle of embarrassment rushes over my body. I feel so incredibly foolish.

I can't tell if it's just my lover's eye or if what I see is true, but I think she might be blushing too.

[Name]'s POV

I have a monstrously bad habit of zoning out a lot. It's almost gotten me ran over a couple of times before. Being an extra for Stranger Things sounds like one of my daydreams, not real life. And yet, here I am, on the set of Stranger Things 4. I zoned out again, and the thing that pulls me out of it is a producer calling out for Finn, telling him to focus. When I look up, he's staring directly at me and I feel my face get hot.

Was he staring at me? Without really thinking about it, I bring my hand up to my face and feel around, maybe trying to catch something off it. Surely that's why he's looking at me. Because I have something on it and he's too embarrassed to tell me. I give him a slight smile before I go to change back into my own clothes. My part is done for the day, it's my cue to go home.

Since I'm not apart of the main cast, I don't have a changing room or a trailer so I just have to find a bathroom to change in. After I've collected the plastic bag containing my clothes, I side step to head to the bathroom when a hand (rather uncoordinatedly) blocks my path.

Finn stands there, one hand awkwardly scratching the back of his neck, the other stretched awkwardly over the doorway.

"Hey-! [Name]-! I, uh. I didn't see you there."

Finn's POV

Right after the words leave my mouth, I immediately want to smack them back in.

Didn't see you there? You're right in front of her, it's obvious you're lying.

A nervous sound, half laugh, half cough, falls from my lips. Oh fuck, this is going terrible.

I plaster an awkward smile on my face. "Hi."

[Name] is giving me a look like she's not entirely sure what's happening, and I can't really blame her. I don't fucking know either. I just wanted to ask her to hang out, now I'm blocking her path and being creepily weird about it. You'd think it would be easier to be smooth with women when you have a whole fanbase of girls after you, but that's not entirely true.

I have about as much charm as a raw piece of cabbage.

"Heyyy.." she says, somewhat awkwardly, drawing out the last syllable of the word.

I clear my throat. I can't keep stalling and if I just let her pass now without going through with it, I would look even weirder. But her eyes-- those damn eyes-- are burning into mine. With every blink, the words escape and run even farther and farther away.

[Name]'s POV

In reality, I think only three seconds or so has passed. But with his dark eyes pinned to mine, it feels like it's been an eternity and a half. My body feels like it's been nailed in place. His eyes are holding me captive like an invisible pair of shackles. I can't move from my place and his gaze is telling me I don't want to. The air feels heavy with some unspoken tension. I can't tell if it's an awkward kind of tension or something else. After another beat or two, Finn's throat clears and breaks the silence. "Hey listen, I was kicking around the idea of us.. maybe.. uh.. you know, hanging out? Or something? Maybe?"

"Oh um.. Yeah, yeah sure. Sounds good, sounds good.. I uh. Should really get dressed and get home, though. I could just like give you my number or something?" I can't help but think about how fucking awful that sounds. I don't let myself dwell on that for too long, though, and before I can blink, he's typing his number into my phone and I'm watching it happen, feeling dazed and dreamy-eyed.

[A Note From Zee]

Hey there! Sorry this took so long. Since this is a lot longer than I originally thought it was going to be, I'll have to publish it in multiple parts, if anyone is interested in that. I've got two other requests to put out before then, though. Uhhh anyways, feel free to leave some feedback.

[inscrutable-shadow]

hello... it is pumpkin.... military au brainrot... cal having to help than when his comm breaks. i just think cal's kind of a problem in therapy and he should be able to be nice to than outside of it :]

hi @write-kin! sorry for the long wait haha but i finally had an idea for something i wanted to say with this (unfortunately thanatos is yet again an asshole but subtly this time because he wants cal to like him lol)

"Sorry about this," Thanatos said with a laugh. There wasn't really much else he could do other than hover awkwardly while Cal did his work. It wasn't Than's fault the communicator was always broken. He just had the jumpiest, most volatile clients in the entire army, apparently. Whether it was Miguel slamming the table to scare him, one of Vic's surges, or an ordinary bit of clumsiness equally his fault as Mariano's, he just couldn't seem to keep the only real piece of army-issued equipment he had intact for longer than two weeks. (The record was actually thirteen days. He kept a counter in the corner of his desk calendar.) It seemed like the only one who hadn't broken his comm was Rex, and that was because they still had his sessions behind safety glass.

"N-no, it's all right," Cal assured him, glasses pushed high on his nose and pointedly avoiding eye contact. "These models can be finicky, the casings are too big for the internal housing and the wiring likes to come loose. It's no wonder a little fall off the desk is enough to… to break it…" The kid's voice had gained steam throughout his explanation, but at the end he seemed to remember that he was talking to Thanatos, the ex-war mage who was also his therapist, and lost his nerve.

"Still, I hate to trouble you, Calamine. I'm sure you have better places to be than in my office fixing my comm for the hundredth time." He got to his feet to pour himself another coffee, mostly as an excuse to get his hands out of line of sight. They tended to, if only subconsciously, unsettle non-war mages. Particularly the weak one, his left, which he dropped into his pocket out of reflex. He was always wary of people on the wrong side of his desk.

Cal shook his head. "Really, it's fine! See, it's fixed." He gave the comm a little shake, which, to Than's surprise, didn't produce a rattling noise of any kind. "I c-can't get you a newer model, but… mounting it on the desk might help. You'll still be able to pick it up, it'll just be harder to knock over. I can also add some stuff to make it harder to EMP and, well, spill coffee into."

Thanatos laughed again, that disarming smile coming easily to his face. "I could certainly use that. Thank you, Calamine. I truly appreciate it."

The praise had the desired effect; the apprehension in Cal's eyes shifted to shock, tentative hope, then admiration, and Thanatos hid his satisfied smile in his coffee mug. Too easy. "Uh, sure! Is there somewhere you'd like the mounting to be?"

Than's desk was meticulously organized. "This is where it usually sits." He indicated a spot near the right side of the desk, past his fountain pen set, where he could easily reach it with his good hand. He sometimes had trouble holding on to things with the other, so he tried to avoid picking up anything with it he couldn't afford to drop.

"Oh, that's awfully close to the edge. Probably why it keeps falling off." The comms tech frowned and scanned Thanatos's belongings with a furrowed brow. "If I install it over here, it'll be more out of the way." He indicated an empty spot near the wall on the left side of the desk.

Thanatos's smile took on an air of chagrin. "No, thank you, Calamine, the right side is fine." That spot was empty for a reason, after all.

"Are you sure? On this side, I could wire the base in with the rest of the comms and give you a way to use it without—"

"Cal."

Cal looked up, to where Thanatos, as he frequently did, was holding his left arm across his body, where the hand would be out of the way. "Oh, your— I'm sorry—"

Than laughed again. "Don't worry about it. I'll make do without the extra wiring. You're doing enough for me already."

The kid was about as pale as a person could be at this point. "I-I'll just… see if I can get materials for that then… sorry again, doctor…"

"You're perfectly all right. Thanks, Cal. I look forward to the improvements." He watched Cal scuttle away with a sigh and a smile. Kid was going places. Just needed to lose the social anxiety.

[wizardofvamp]

For your distraction needs, please may I know ✅ + 🎶 + 🤔 + ⛔️ for the fic writing ask game? Thank yeeewww

hellllll yeeeeee ty for the ask @porcelainseashore!

✅ - ohgaaaaawd uh I'm very bad at harvesting my own glimmers but I'm gonna harvest some from notes I've gotten from other folks bc I trust other folks taste over my own any day of the week:

Glimmer from the most recent Sascha fic:

Eroded molars plucked like pomegranate seeds and summarily replaced with brighter pearls.

Idk I really like how this sentence shook out it's info dense while still retaining an easy, readable flow. Also tips its hat on the kitbashing going on without being obvious so it'll be a fun thing to pick up upon a second or third read (I think)! Because I'm one of those annoying people who likes reading/writing things that require several passes to get the full picture.

Glimmer from Limits:

Either post was crafted to mimic the trees they were gored from, the arc of the back panel--branches that tangled and fused at its center. Wildlife roiled behind the broad leaves–[Ana] had spent hours while she was young sprawled out on the bed, tracing her fingertips across every twig-clutching talon and leaf-stem coiling mousetail. Pressing her fingers into the two ragged, unvarnished gashes that tore into the falcon roosted in the top right corner. To this day, she does not know what put those there–Kliment would never tell.

okay cheating this is a full passage not a single line, but I'm particularly proud of this description of Ana and Roman's headboard from the second chapter of Limits so full excerpt be upon ye! And yes the tenses are weird but Memorium can be like that sometimes (says the editor-less writer)

🎶 - I'm hugely reliant on music!! I create playlists for all my projects, and the majority of my music listening habits are more or less informed by whatever I'm writing/drafting on a particular day. All my playlists are in tatters because I'm in the middle of yet another spotify playlist overhaul but here's an ole reliable I recently updated for some Ana/Roman oneshots that will hopefully see the light of day eventually:

🤔 - I got two different answers! One more general and one more fic- specific. So two answers for the price of one! General: I've been writing since literally I was old enough to hold a pencil/sit at a keyboard. So I don't really have an answer outside of "well I also eat and sleep so yeah I write" it's just something I do whether I set out to do it or not. Even if I go years without publishing/posting/producing, I usually have several WIPs floating around for me to peck away at and manage sanity. Fan/Fic: Usually a good setting is enough for me to spin out fic! I don't typically write canon characters unless they become an Intense Blorbo where I feel like I have something to add to the greater blorbo-sphere. Currently I don't really have any of those outside of stray Sascha concept that I've got cooking out back. But yeah if I come across a setting that strikes me, OCs will just start spawning naturally so I write fic to wrangle those OCs.

⛔️ - If I'm writing canon characters for a specific fandom, I try to limit the number of "Big Names" in the piece bc nothing's more annoying that reading a fic tagged with a specific character only for said character to be around for three paragraphs as a contact/side mission. If there's a bit part to be played, give it to nameless rando 172 and if he grows a personality great! I now have a shiny new OC people can get to know! But like if you have a vamp fic and you need a Nos contact maybe give Mr. Tung a break he has enough going on in SoCal he doesn't need to be bothered with breadbasket intel unless he absolutely has to, give that job to a bright-eyed Nos upstart with a cool pet rat named Pichu and let that fun lil gal bounce off the Big Wigs in the fic. Makes the story more accessible to folks who are new to the fandom/lore as well as something new for the old heads if executed with care. Win-win! I hope!