#Too bad nobody in my surrounding will ever know

[lieutenant-amuel]

Another day of me realizing that the Avaloran Royal Guard system makes no sense.

[thebluebygracieabrams]

i don't know whether I want to be like ronan lynch or want to be with someone like him and isn't that just my entire sexuality

[telephoniii]

WHY WOULD A FELLOW WANT A GIRL LIKE HER?

☆彡 in which malleus and leona fight for your affections

leona kingscholar x gn!reader & malleus draconia x gn!reader

word counter: 4K

warnings: reader is prefect, cursing, love triangle, possible ooc

a/n: based off of the song “stepsister’s lament” from cinderella the musical— hence the title. one of my favorite works!! I had fun writing this!! both mal and leona are capital p PETTY and I'm living for it. i hope you enjoy :>

No matter how much he claims he doesn't care, Leona finds himself hissing at the sight of you and Malleus together. He wants to deny it so badly— but deep down he knows. 

He knows as he glares at you, sitting on a bench beside the fae, giggling and having a jolly old time. He’s well aware of what he’s feeling as he scoffs, telling the greedy hyena beside him that he’s returning to the dorm.

And he’s fully conscious as he lays in bed, staring at the ceiling; unable to get the image of you and that spiny horned reptile out of his head. 

He’s jealous. Envious. And any damn variation of the sort.

Out of all the people you could choose to spend your time with, you pick that slimy lizard?! 

Your taste is questionable—who’s he kidding? Absolutely awful. Really, going for the guy who doesn’t age? Ever think about how awkward it’s going to be when you’re getting hip pains and he still looks like a teenager? Hell, he’s not one for settling down but wouldn’t you at least want someone with the capacity of growing old together?!

What does that scaley little scumbag do for you anyway?

Sure, Malleus does gift you little trinkets you’ve mentioned in passing. Leona isn’t blind; he can see the way you light up at these gifts. He distinctly remembers seeing a dorky gargoyle keychain on your bag. It stank of that fae freak. 

Yet you seemed to adore the tiny statue, so much so that you went on a small rant about the history. To Leona’s surprise, he listened to every single word you had to say about it. Gargoyles are always way more interesting when it’s you talking about it. 

Though, everything involving you is more interesting nowadays… He had to resist the urge to sand that stupid little toy right then and there.

And he’s well aware of the ‘secret’ walks the two of you have at unholy times of the night, talking about whatever that overgrown lizard is interested in. The way you speak of it like nobody knows is irritating. Only an idiot wouldn’t pick up on it. 

Too bad NRC is full of idiots.

It’s not like it matters too much anyway. He doubts Malleus has the charisma to charm you. The guy isn’t invited to a whole lot of events for a reason. While Leona knows he can come off as a prick, he’s still a prince nonetheless. He was taught how to flatter and flirt— he remembers being surrounded by a bunch of bootlickers as a cub. 

He isn’t intimidated by Malleus’s magic all too much either. Although he’s more than sure you wouldn’t fall for a person solely based on their strength, Leona believes he could take on Malleus. The lizard is painfully predictable after all. 

Not to mention most of his ‘shows of power’ are akin to temper tantrums. If dueling wasn’t banned, that pathetic excuse of a dragon would be dragged in the mud by him.

Everything Malleus does for you, he could do better. He’s sure of it. 

Beneath the surface, is he scared of coming second place to yet another person? Terrified that he’ll always be the second-best choice? That all the time spent with you would never be more than that? Maybe. 

But those night terrors are lessened when he sees you approach— knowing he was the sole reason you were there. 

Leona feels his heart race as you sit beside him, casually talking about your day and whatever hijinks you got into. He worries you might hear just how fast it beats for you when you nap with him, laying your head on his chest. 

As he hears you mumble his name in your sleep, he feels reassured that he’s your one. 

I mean— why would someone as great as you ever want a flimsy, little lizard? Especially when he’s right here, ready to be your pillow in hard and happy times. 

~

A green thunderbolt struck through the sky. Coincidentally, you happened to be napping on Leona outside when this happened— shaking the both of you awake.

Did Malleus do this on purpose?… Of course not. He’s not immature enough to do that, unlike a certain lion he knows.

It’s not his fault that you two were cuddling outside when he was ‘testing’ out something with his thunder.

That doesn’t mean he was any less satisfied watching you get up and walk back to your dorm, leaving that mangy cat by himself.

He never understood what value you gained from hanging around someone as…unusual as Kingscholar. A ‘prince’ who lays around, sleeping the day away? What a joke! Wouldn’t you rather have a prince— better yet a ruler— who’s proactive in his kingdom?

That flappy street cat is better suited to accompany Grim rather than yourself. 

He doubts Kingscholar would hold open the door for you like he does! 

Malleus has heard it’s a human custom to do so; ever since then, he’s now perfected the art of swiftly rushing over to a door and slamming it open for you. It delights him when you giggle at his antics. He bets that idiotic lion would never be able to do that— Kingscholar barely moves anyway. It’s like he’s glued to that bed of his.

Kingscholar seems as though he’d let the door slam in your face. That alone just shows how superior Malleus is to him. 

Although, Kingscholar’s words of advice indeed seemed to matter to you quite a lot. Every time you had attracted chaos, you commonly turned to the lazy loaf and asked for his perspective. And each time, without fail, Mal had watched you take the prince’s suggestion in stride and use it.

It pains him to admit it, sometimes Kingscholar can be rather clever. Malleus is somewhat glad that said lion uses his intelligence to keep you safe.

He doesn’t know what, but something about Kingscholar’s mere existence seems to relax you. Malleus has seen you look at ease in a way he’s never witnessed before when you simply just lay beside the other student. He watches with envy as Kingscholar’s tail protectively wraps around your thigh. 

As long as you’re safe… Malleus supposes he can bear through you hanging out with the lion.

That won’t stop him from interrupting the two of you whenever he feels the time is right. Sudden bolts of thunder, random objects falling from the sky and hitting Kingscholar on the head, out-of-the-blue power outages…

It’s all fair play to him. You still get to hang out with that lazy excuse of a prince anyway.

It doesn’t matter too much to him— at least that’s what he tells himself. It’s not as though you’d leave him to hang out with Kingscholar; no, you’d never. 

You’ll stay, won’t you?

He’s sure of it as you walk beside him in the dead of night. Nobody else knows, nor do they need to as you two stroll along the campus. Seeing your enthusiastic smile next to him as you talk about your dreams fills him with unexplainable joy. Malleus fights the urge to hold your hand, interlocking your fingers with his.

You seemed to have read his mind— you always do understand him like no other— as you glanced down at your hands. A small giggle leaves your lips before you inch your hand closer to his.

“Can we…?” You hum with hopeful and amused eyes.

Wordlessly, Malleus indulges now with your consent. The warmth of your hand compared to the polarizing coldness of his made him feel dizzy. In a good way. 

You’ll never leave him. At least not when you're hand in hand together like this.

~

“Man I’m starving— Hurry it up, henchman!” A familiar, squeaky voice demanded as Grim pushed on your shoulder. 

“Patience, patience. This is very important. It can determine my mood for the rest of the day.” You murmured, standing strong despite Grim’s efforts. Narrowing your eyes, you stared at the different lunch options. 

What were you going to eat today?

“Prefect has a point. Your nutrition affects the way you function.” Jack shrugs behind Grim, rubbing the back of his neck. 

“You say that like they’re going to eat something healthy.” Ace yawns, stretching out his arm and lightly hitting Deuce. “Hurry it up, Prefect! Clock’s ticking!”

“Fine! Fine!” Quickly, you grabbed the same thing you’ve gotten for the past week. A series of groans emerged from behind you.

“All that time just to get that?” Ace crossed his arms, giving you an unamused look. 

“Okay, I’ll get something else then—“

“—Nononononono!” Practically everyone behind you yelled in a panic.

“Just go sit down ‘n secure us a table already!” Epel huffs, to which you happily comply.

You scout out the area, looking for a free table to sit at. Geez, was the cafeteria always this packed?

A sigh of relief escapes your lips as you spot a familiar, robotic Shroud waving to you from a table.

“Prefect!” Ortho chirps, his voice synthesizer going a pitch up. Just as you were about to walk over, you felt your blazer being pulled on from the back. Suddenly, you were yanked away.

“Ay! Watch it—!” You grab the hand that was pulling on you, turning around to come face to face with a smug Ruggie.

“Leona’s callin’ you.”

You rolled your eyes.

“He didn’t want to send a text or call? He just had to send a goon to come and get me?” 

Ruggie nodded with a cheeky grin.

“Yep.”

Groaning, you turn towards Ortho and wave him goodbye, signaling that you are going to leave. “Lead the way, hyena.”

And with that, you found yourself walking through the hallways on your way to Savanaclaw. You hope Ortho told the others about you leaving. It kinda slipped your mind to tell them.

You snapped out of your thoughts as you heard munching coming from Ruggie— “Wait, that's my lunch you’re eating! How’d you even…!? When did you…?!”

It also slipped your mind that Ruggie is both a great thief and greedy when it comes to food.

“Shishishishi… you left yourself open, Prefect! I’m sure Leona will get you something else to eat. He always does.”

“Always is a stretch.” You grumble, watching Ruggie eat your food. “Is it?” You didn’t want to ponder his question. 

Instead, you turn your gaze ahead of you and focus on walking… At least that’s what you would be doing if you didn’t walk face-first into somebody. 

“Gah! I’m so sorry—“ “Child of man.” 

Only one person used that nickname for you. Looking up, you were met with Malleus’s amused smile. 

“Impeccable timing,” The fae seemed happy to see you. You could see his fangs the way he was smiling. Ruggie was unsettled but thankful that Malleus was ignoring his presence. “Would you accompany me for lunch? Lilia, Sebek, and Silver will be there too, of course.” 

You were about to accept right away before you felt a light hit to your side. Ruggie sneakily elbowed you. Before you could curse at him, he gave you a look and— Oh, right. You were going with him to spend lunch with Leona already. A small frown made its way on your lips as you turned back to Malleus.

Great sevens, it was hard to turn him down. Especially when he was all cheery like this. 

Fortunately— or unfortunately, you didn’t have to. A roaring voice from behind you did it for you.

“Herbivore’s coming with me. They agreed to it already.” Leona huffed, a scowl clear on his face as he approached. Ruggie seemed surprised.

“Leona?! What’re you—“ “Did they now? I didn’t exactly hear them say no to my proposal though.” Malleus interrupted Ruggie, whose ears went flat against his head. 

“They don’t need to. They’ve already got plans.” The lion growled, narrowing his eyes at the other third year. 

Malleus stepped forward, the fae’s irritation growing. “Why do you insist on speaking for them so vigorously? My dear child of man, don’t let him dictate your choices—“

“I’m not doing shit. Just stating what they already agreed to.” Leona also stepped forward, refusing to back down. 

You were starting to get worried and turned your head to murmur something to Ruggie. Except Ruggie wasn’t there. The hyena snuck off already. Bastard. A voice snapped you out of your thoughts.

“Well, Prefect? Who would you rather accompany? Kingscholar— who’ll likely laze around the whole lunch— or I?”

“Damn lizard…” Leona grumbled under his breath before shaking his head and facing you. “Well? The choice is yours. I wouldn’t force you to do anything.”

You bit the inside of your cheek, your gaze flickering between the two. “Well… I—“

Before you could finish, you were interrupted by a loud ring.

The lunch bell had rung. It was time to head back to class.

~

“Are you doing okay?” You ask, shifting closer to Leona. He lets out a small grunt in response, his eyes closed as he sprawled out in his usual spot inside the Botanical Garden. 

For as tough as Leona was, he was unusually soft when tired. He carried this relaxing air around him. That no matter what happens, you’ll be okay with him around. The thought makes you smile as you tilt your head at him.

He was also kinda cute when he laid there like that—

“Quit staring.”

Leona abruptly huffed out. Blinking in surprise, you soon realize that one of his eyes was cracked open. A tiny blush finds its way on your cheeks while he stutters out an apology. The lion’s lips soon form a smug grin.

“You were looking at me pretty attentively, herbivore…” His words are slow and agonizing. Leona’s tail swishes up and down as he leans in closer. Your eyes widen as he comes mere inches away from your face; from your lips.

“…Got something you want to tell me?” You feel your breath hitched at the sudden, feather-light touch of Leona’s hand against yours. Just as you were about to respond—

“Roi du Lions!” 

The romantic atmosphere Leona so carefully built went down the drain, along with his motivation. A groan left his lips.

“Sorry, we didn’t mean to interrupt.” Trey soon appears behind Rook, an apologetic expression on his face. You shake your head, standing up. 

“You’re good! What’re you two up to?” 

Leona had an annoyed look on his face as you engaged with the other students. He tried to ignore and drown out everyone’s voices. At least he was, till Rook caught his attention.

“During an exploration for new ingredients that we could bring to our club, Roi de Dragons made a magical appearance.“ You raised a brow while Leona’s ear flicked.

Trey let out a small chuckle at Rook’s dramatic storytelling.

“Malleus just asked us to find something for him in the Botanical Garden.” 

Leona’s scowl deepened. That damn lizard.

“Maybe we could help! What’re you looking for?” You offered.

Trey soon fiddled with his pocket, searching for something. Shortly after, he pulls out a piece of paper. “A… toy? It looks like this. Malleus said he last had it here.”

You made an “O” shape with your mouth. “His virtual pet! Gao-Gao!” Trey lets you hold the paper, letting you get a closer look at the drawing that resembled Malleus’s Tamogachi. 

“I know what it looks like, I’ve got no idea where he could’ve left it though…” Soon enough, you, Trey, and Rook are scouring the Botanical Gardens for this little toy. Leona finds this stupid. 

Slightly bitter about his ruined moment, he lays back down to take a nap.

That’s when his ear flinched after hitting something hard. Turning around with a displeased look, Leona’s eyes narrowed.

There, in his favorite sleeping spot was Malleus’s dumb toy —which wasn’t there literally minutes ago might he add. Picking it up, Leona contemplated crushing the small electronic. However, as he held it, the lion was quick to notice a bit of ink getting on his fingers. 

He turned the Tamogachi around. Written on the back with a blue pen was “Kingscholar :)”

Oh, that fucking Draconia did this on purpose.

~

Sitting up from your bed, you rub your eyes. With an annoyed groan, you get up and go to the door— trying not to wake Grim in the process. You could feel the ghost watching with curiosity. Not that you blamed them. Hell, you were curious too!

Who was knocking at 2 in the morning!?

The sun wasn’t even up. Ramshackle probably looked horrid, inside and outside, at this time.

You weren’t looking too great either: bags beneath your eyes, saggy pajamas, slouched posture… Vil would die on the spot if he saw you. Internally, you prayed it was anybody but him. And thank the Sevens that your prayer was answered.

You titled your head in confusion at the one in front of you.

“Malleus?” He smiled back at you. As though his appearance on your doorstep at the crack ass of dawn was the most normal thing ever.

“Greetings.”

You shook your head, still waking up and trying to make sense of the situation. “Do… Do you need something?”

Now he looked confused. Which only heightened your confusion.  The fae furrowed his brows. “Did you not want to talk, child of man?” 

“I like talking with you! Just, preferably not this early in the morning— Look, why are you here? Did you just want to hang out, Tsunotarou?” You tried being as polite as possible, but damn you were tired. 

Malleus looked just as lost as you.

“…Perhaps you’ve forgotten about the letter you sent me?” You look to the side, slightly scrunching your nose as you try to remember what ‘letter’ he was referring to. 

“Uhh— When did I send this letter?” You give him an apologetic smile. It wasn’t too far-fetched; the idea of you giving him an invitation to Ramshackle. 

However, you feel as though you would’ve remembered if you had actually done it. And you would’ve hoped that past you would be smart enough to set your invitation time to anytime BUT 2 AM. 

“I recall receiving this letter yesterday, in the library,” Malleus explained, his hand reaching into his pocket to find said paper. “You slipped it to me when you walked by—“

The fae grabbed his invitation, only for him to be met with sand that trickled down his hand.

“—with Kingscholar…” He fell silent as he stared at the tiny particles in his hand. You seemed to catch on quickly, giving him a sympathetic look as your eyes flickered between the sand and him.

“Tsunotarou, did you see me give you this letter?” 

The way he averted his eyes to the side, his pale cheeks faintly turning pink from embarrassment, already gave you the answer you needed. It’d be cute if not for the circumstances. As expected, Malleus shook his head.

“My apologies… I assumed it was you since I had acquired it right after you had waved at me and it was an invitation to Ramshackle.”

You let out a small chuckle before brushing off the sand that still dirtied his hand. “Don’t sweat it. It’s not your fault that Leona is… well Leona and he does stuff like this.” Offering Malleus a smile, your hand soon intertwined with his. The blush on his cheeks subtly brightened.

“Well, you did come all this way just to hang out. It’d be a shame to turn you away now. Here, come.” You kick the door to open it wider and pull the fae inside Ramshackle. Leading him to the couch, you could gauge that Malleus was amused by your antics. Practically dragging one of the top mages in the world by the arm into your dorm…

“Let me just freshen up first! Wait here— I’ll be right back. Then we could watch some movies or whatever.” You shrugged with a grin before running upstairs to wash up. Malleus gave you a polite and happy wave as you exited.

Once you left, he let out a sigh and leaned back on the couch. His hands balled into fists as he felt more sand pooling in his pockets. A green bolt of lightning struck from the sky.

That measly fucking lion.

~

You let out an aggravated sigh. Did they not think you realized what both of them were doing to each other? Between the Tamagotchi incident and the whole letter debacle a few nights ago, they were being so obvious.

Jeez, you get that they had a rivalry going on and whatnot, but why did they have to involve you? Fed up and rambling, you look to your side at Grim to get his thoughts on the matter. He sat next to you in the kitchen, munching away on a can of tuna.

“They’re getting really annoying! Stealing my henchmen’s time like that…” A chuckle left your lips at Grim’s bitterness, causing you to pet him on the head. 

“Mhm. I just want them to quit it— at least around me. I’m good friends with both and care a lot about them… Also, don’t talk with a mouthful.” You lightheartedly huff, getting up from your seat to grab Grim another can of tuna as he was beginning to finish his first. He usually ate two to three cans before bedtime.

“Why don’t ya just tell 'em?” The cat curiously asked with a tilt of the head, staring at you. You let out a snort. “Yeah, just tell two extremely powerful mages with an intense hatred for one another to stop. Like that’ll work.”

Grim let out an annoyed groan at your sarcasm. You opened a new can of tuna and slid it to him. His frown quickly disappeared as he began to dig in.

“Eh— sounds like Leona and Malleus could use some quality time together.” Grim offhandedly comments, chewing away on his food. 

“What did I say about talking with a mouthful, man?” You roll your eyes before falling silent, pondering his words. Quality time… Leona… Malleus…

“Grim! You’re a genius!”

~

“Herbivore, what the hell.” Leona’s tone was unamused, giving you a deadpan look.

“I thought it’d be nice if we hung out all together! As a group?” 

The two men stared daggers at each other across the small, dusty table in Ramshackle. With a nervous chuckle, your eyes flickered between the two as you slowly passed out cards for some random board game that Idia lent you.

Leona and Malleus didn’t take their eyes off one another. It was at this moment you were starting to think that Grim, in fact, was not a genius.

These two were definitely going to kill each other.

[furioussouls]

LADS boys as strict professors who only have a soft spot for their wife

with [chubby reader]

Warnings: tooth- rotting fluff, chubby fem! reader

Disclaimer: These characters don't belong to me, they are from the game "love and deepspace" by InFold. All lore references and worldbuilding belong solely to the creators.

requested by a sweet anon (hope it lived up to your expectations :3)

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Xavier:

Xavier's students know their professor to be the best hunter to ever exist; he was agile, capable, strategic, strong and yet gentle in the face of danger. He's open to every single question, he won't make you feel bad about yourself for asking even the most obvious questions and adds enough physical practice to balance out his thorough lectures. However, he's also one of the more intimidating professors that teaches the new generation of hunters; he'll disarm threats in the blink of an eye while his face remained the same neutral expression. His students have never seen a person fight as well as he has. He's not the type of man you'd want to piss off. Sometimes when they're staring into his emotionless face, they feel an icy shudder run down their backs.

Xavier stood in front of his students in his usual business casual attire and explained the proper strategy of defending oneself in a battle where everything seemed hopeless.

"Let's assume you're in the middle of a battle and you're too exhausted or hurt to continue, what's the next step? Yes, you." Xavier nodded at one student, who was raising his hand.

"You need to try to adapt your fighting style to your current level of exhaustion and you must-"

"No", Xavier interrupted the student quietly and looked through the room to find somebody else willing to participate but nobody else raised their hand. Xavier sighed softly and ran his hand through his blonde hair.

"Retreat. If you're too exhausted to keep fighting, you must retreat. If you're unable to because you're surrounded or in the middle of a dangerous situation- trust in your partner. They're supposed to back you up and be dependable."

His students looked at each other in confusion. Trust your partner? That's the answer?

One student raised their brow and hesitantly lifted their hand. Xavier noticed the hand and perked up. He took off his round glasses and pointed with them to the student, who raised their hand.

"Excuse me if I'm overstepping, Professor, but who was your partner?" The student asked some of the other ones looked up at him curiously.

"Ah", Xavier exclaimed and slowly blushed a beet- red. The sides of his mouth tugged up until his mouth split into a soft grin. His pearly white teeth were exposed and he scratched the back of his neck. "Well, that would be my wife. We were partners- I mean we still are. But in more ways than one now." He stammered and cleared his throat.

"Is she a good hunter?", asked one student.

"Oh yes, she is. She's so capable and strong, cute as well. Our fighting styles complete each other so well and we always depend on each other during battles. It's a great feeling to trust your partner this freely." He gushed with a soft smile. He opened up his phone and showed the lockscreen picture of you; it was your cute chubby self wrapped in the lanky arms of Xavier.

Some of his students giggled, which caused Xavier to blush and clear his throat. He put his phone away and continued with his lecture. The students that believed Xavier to be the craziest alpha male hunter are now upset that their hero is nothing more than a little puppy for his wife.

Zayne:

Zayne stood in front of his nervous students. He was dressed up in a suit, not one bit out of place; his black hair sitting perfectly, his black tie sitting smugly against his chest. Even his shoes were clean and polished. He really was as perfect as people made him out to be. He was one of the youngest cardiac surgeons at Akso hospital and is holding lectures about the human heart. Zayne sighed and pushed his glasses closer to his face with his long, scarred fingers.

"I understand some of you had questions about the assignment", said Zayne, his voice soft and deep.

One student hesitantly raised their hands and swallowed when Zayne raised his hand toward him and nodded. "Well the material is a bit.. difficult to understand, since we're only in our second semester."

Zayne tilted his head and seemed to consider his students words, his eyebrows furrowed so hard that a wrinkle formed in between them. The student swallowed, he hoped he hadn't ruined his chances with one of the most influencial doctors of his time.

"I understand the feedback, but I am not sure how much easier I can make it for you. The material is very limited. I shall look for better ones but I can't promise-", a soft knock interrupted Zayne and he turned towards the door.

"Excuse me, Professor Zayne?", your round body walked through the door with a bento box. Zayne's strict face softened immediately and he called out your name. "What are you doing here?", he asked you softly as his cheeks bloomed into a soft pink. You handed him his bento box and told him that you would go on a mission for a few days and that you wanted to see him off in person.

Zayne swallowed and the side of his mouth gently tugged up as he looked at the box. "Thank you very much, dear."

Dear? His students jaw dropped and they looked at each other in disbelief. Did that just really happen? Did Dr. Professor Zayne just call you dear while blushing? You waved at the students and they waved back at you incredulously.

Zayne cleared his throat and nodded "We were just talking about the assignment I assigned. Apparently it's.. too complicated."

You raised an eyebrow at him "Well, I hope you took their criticism seriously. I'll be off then. Have fun, guys", you winked at them and walked out the door.

Zayne cleared his throat and smoothed over his shirt after he sat his bento box down on the table. "I'll find some easier reading material for you and readjust the difficulty level of the assignment", he agreed softly and smiled at your lunchbox.

His students chuckled amonst themselves. Hopefully you'd drop by more often. They certainly wouldn't mind.

Rafayel:

Rafayel stood in front of his students' paintings and examined them with furrowed eyebrows. He hated this process, because art is not something that can just be graded like any other subject. It is deeply individual and personal to everybody and it feels wrong to grade such personal pieces. However, he is so damn bored with all these pieces. They're all missing that little something, of course all of these drawings are objectively good; a nice understanding of colour theory and shadows and applying different techniques and methods. All of it was good, but it was artficial and it felt too clean. Not authentic enough.

Rafayel sighed and raked his beautiful hands through his fluffy hair. He closed his eyes and tilted his head toward the ceiling.

Some of his students rolled their eyes at his familiar dramatic antics and others gulped and fidgeted nervously with their fingers. They all knew of Rafayel, of course. He was one of the most popular artists of his time and his works are phenomenal. It would be horrible if a brilliant man like him were to tell his young, sweet students how horrific their art is.

Rafayel stood up and walked through the room. He was as graceful as a gazelle, his button up shirt tugged neatly into his black pants.

"All of you have passed, you were all good.", he exclaimed in a bored tone.

The fidgeting stopped and the students looked up at him with in shock. "Really?"

"Yes. All of you have a great understanding of your preferred style and you did well", he yawned and turned to face all of his students "However, I'm not impressed. You have all passed this final, so create something better for me. This one won't be graded and it has no deadline. Just create something for me, something that really inspires you. Not something you can just paint well. Find a muse and paint it multiple times in different art styles and mediums, let your creativity flow. None of my students will turn out to be just a conventially acceptable artist." Rafayel shuddered at the thought and looked at the faces of his students.

One of them raised their hand "What would be a good example of a muse?"

Rafayel hummed and tapped his finger on the table "Anything you want; music, sadness, your dog, nature, your fashion style... people. My muse would be my wife." Rafayel smiled softly and rummaged through his bag. He pulled out his notebook and revealed you; he painted and drew you in many different art styles, backgrounds and positions. Your plush body always wore a soft blue gown, and your hair was styled the same way. His art looked real. Not necessarily because he was painting you in Realism, but more because of thelove and passion he felt for you.

Rafayel smiled softly and gently stroked over the pages. "This is what I want from you."

Sylus:

Sylus was a business professor. He wasn't necessarily a mean professor, but my god was he intimidating. Sylus stood in front of his students in his all black outfit. His piercingly red eyes stared into the crowd and he smirked softly.

"Hmmm", he hummed, his voice husky and gravelly. "Nobody knows the answer to my question?

"I thought it might be answer a)", a voice squeaked out and Sylus checked his notes and nodded at the student. "Very good, thats the right answer."

Sylus knows he comes off as a strict man, he really isn't though. He's also a very forgiving grader but he also knows his attitude comes off as intimidating to his students, even if he doesn't mean to be.

Sylus' phone chimed three times and he looked down; 'My sweetie' was calling. A bright smile spread on his face and he turned to his students "Excuse me, it's my wife. Hello, sweetie. Yes, I folded the laundry before I left. It should be on your bed. I left some of them on the heater so your sweater would be warm and cozy for you. Yes, the oversized one. You're welcome, honey. How was your day so far? Oh, good. I saw you packed me lunch before you left, thank you. You're the best wife one could ask for. Oh what I'm doing right now? I'm supposed to hold a lecture and answer questions", A few beats passed and Sylus chuckled deeply at your embarassed and quick rambles and turned to his students. "Alright, alright. My wife says I'm supposed to hang up now, so I'll do that. Goodbye, sweetie. I'll see you later. I love you", he hangs up his phone and smiled.

"She sounds lovely, doesn't she? I hope you all will experience the love that she has for me." Sylus said dreamily and looked back down on his answers. "Does anybody know the answer to the next question?"

Some of his students looked at each other and giggled loudly. More students started to participate during his lectures now and Sylus thankfully fell into a more comfortable rhythm with his students, and it was all thanks to you. You make everything better, you seriously do.

Caleb:

Caleb is a Professor of Flight Engineering and is licensed to give his students their pilot certificate. He is known as "the iciest Pilot and Professor" amongst his students. He teaches them both the practical and the theoretical experience that they need. Caleb is not a mean Professor, but he's definitely a strict one. He allows no disrespect towards himself or any of his students and expects his students to give their best at all times. If that "best" is only 60%, then he'll only expect 60% from you, but nothing less.

Caleb stood in front of his exhausted student. He stared at him neutrally, but not unkindly and asked "What's this piece of the engine called?" Caleb pointed at the tiny piece of metal.

His student sighed, his shoulders sagged and went back into the push-up position.

"20 push-ups, this time. You can do better than this, next week I'll ask you the same questions so study harder, alright?", Caleb turned around and asked his other students the some questions as well.

The same student walked in the park later in the afternoon with his girlfriend. He looked around and pointed at two people "Look, babe! That's my Professor Caleb." Both of them walked towards Caleb and his student's jaw dropped.

Caleb was... smiling? His lips were stretched into a bright smile as he twirled your thick body around. He looked up at you and grinned like a lovesick fool, his eyes only one step away from turning into two little hearts. Your hand was wrapped around his necklace and you pulled him closer to you like a dog and he chuckled and buried his face in your shoulder. Calebs nose gently traced along your collarbone and his strong hands wrapped around as the warm spring breeze gently drifted over your hair. The sun shone over the both of you and lit your faces up. The two of you looked straight out of a painting.

Caleb noticed his student and smiled at him and his girlfriend "Hello". You turned around and smiled at the two as well and looked up at Caleb in confusion. "That's my student", Caleb explained and kissed your forehead. You smiled and them and held out your hand "Hi, I'm his wife."

His student looked at you incredulously and shook your hand.

[womanofwords]

Everybody's Favourite (Part 14)

You started spending weekdays over at the Iceberg Lounge, much to the Batfam's chagrin. Each time, your excuse for leaving rubbed them the wrong way.

"Sorry, meeting investors for the Ice Block! One of them's Japanese, so I have to be there to translate!"

"I'm discussing prices for the ice creams with Papa!"

"Uncle Harvey and I are discussing logos and copyright law for the business!"

"That's it. I'm ending this myself," Damian said. "Nobody steals my sibling and gets away with it."

"Damian, do not try to seek Y/N out," Bruce warned, although his heart broke to say such a thing. "It'll just make things worse."

You were making headlines a lot, too, and not only for being Gotham's wounded dove. As it turned out, you were a legend.

Y/N Wayne Throws 5th Birthday Party For Pothole That Is Five Years Old

Y/N Wayne Found Flying Around Gotham On Hoverboard

Y/N Wayne Caught Commanding Birds; Claims Their Papa Taught Them

"Father, Y/N can't actually command birds, can they?" Damian asked.

"I . . . have no idea," Bruce admitted. "I really have no idea."

Tim's sleep schedule got worse with each headline; every time a new one was released, he would stay up all of the next night cyberstalking you. It only made things worse.

Click. There you were, opening the first Ice Block location. Click. You were visiting the zoo with Oswald, feeding the parrots. Click. You were painting your nails black, white, and gold. Cobblepot colours, you called it.

They also noticed your stuff moving out. It was just some trivial trinkets at first, but then it became bigger and more important stuff. Weirdly enough, nobody ever saw anybody move anything. It just . . . vanished.

One day, you moved out for good. You left a letter on your bed (one of the last pieces of big furniture left behind) for Alfred to read.

Dear former family,

For ten years, I have been in this house with you, eating the same foods at the same table, but with a seat far removed from you all. I have tried to invite you into my life, telling you about trivial school matters and asking you your opinions on clothing choices, but to no avail. I watched my father shut me out of his life, only throwing me cold looks like a prison warden throwing scraps of rotten food at a starving prisoner. It hurt so much to watch you shower everyone but me with love and affection, making it clear who your favourites were and weren't.

I had so many questions to ask you, Bruce, questions I have contented myself with being left unanswered. How did you meet my mother? Why didn't you know about me earlier? If my mother hadn't died, would you ever know I existed? Life at Wayne Manor wouldn't have looked any different without me, except Damian wouldn't have had anybody to torment.

Everything changed when I was taken. It was terrifying at first, but I settled into a routine very quickly. Papa noticed my talents and potential very quickly, and my aunts and uncles took a shine to me very quickly. Finally, I knew what parental love felt like, how it felt to be surrounded by people who actually wanted to know you, rather than people who had to put up with you.

But it wouldn't last. Batman had to come in and ruin it on your behalf, suspiciously after the fourteen-day video we'd made. I could only watch in horror as my family were beaten up by him and his Batkids and I was kidnapped again.

When I was returned to Wayne Manor, you acted different. You went from cold to overly affectionate. It unnerved me. Dick called me 'baby bird', Bruce fed me lies about my papa, and Damian brought up the nauseating fact about me being his blood sibling. The last people I wanted to see were too close for comfort, and the people I did want to see were forced away from me. You really pick your moments, don't you?

Being around you long-term is nothing short of bad luck. I go for a walk with Stephanie and I get a drink thrown at my head and my 'sister' using me as a human shield. I go with you to a gala and become acquainted with your horrifying unpopularity. It is embarrassing to be seen with you.

So I'm leaving. I can't be with family members that only try and build a relationship when they fear a loss of status. By the time you read this, I will be legally adopted into the Cobblepot family. (Adult adoption's a thing, you know.) I will be sending you all restraining orders very shortly, except for Alfred. I hold no ill will towards him. However, if he ever tries relaying messages from you to me, I will cut him off without delay. I will also be tipping off Animal Control about Titus, since no normal ten-year-old should be commanding a vicious animal. If the authorities find out about your vigilante lives, then so be it. You are, as of this moment, not my problem.

I do desire that we become better strangers than family.

(Not) yours,

Y/N Cobblepot.

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Part 7

Part 8

Part 9

Part 10

Part 11

Part 12

Part 13

Part 14 <- You are finished

Taglist: @tinybrie, @enchantingarcadecreation, @hopingtoclearmedschool, @sh4rk-k1d, @prorpy, @angelicbear, @sulleha, @sirenetheblogger, @omgfangirlland, @heather-hutchcroft, @wannaflyaway, @jaybunsblog, @sugarrush-blush, @redkarmakai, @asillysimp, @type-ink, @jellyedkazoo, @lonely-nerd-sodaholic

OK, folks, that's it! You're at the end of the line with this fanfic; I have posted the very last part. Thank you for the nourishment (likes and reblogs) and the encouragement (comments)! I will be back soon with a new multi-part story, and I'll let you pick which one comes on first.

[nnight-dances]

XOXO, YOU MIGHT BE MY NEXT!

PAIRING: lee anton x fem!reader

GENRE: short n' sweet moments!!!!

TROPES: friends to lovers, college au, turning 20 existential dread inspired by yours truly, flirting friendship dynamics, no drama in this one because i'm sick n tired bro

WHAT TO EXPECT:

Something about Anton had changed ever since he turned 20 and you could not put your finger on it. All you knew was he had made it his mission to fluster you and letting him catch a hint of what he was doing to you was a bad idea...

"I can't believe I'm no longer a silly little guy in his teen years," sighs Anton. Had the speaker been a remotely more predictable person than Lee Chanyoung, decidedly the king of "never let 'em know your next move," you would've at least pretended to be amused by his statement.

Instead, you echo his sigh with your own. "Come on, there's no way you're still whining about this. You used to cry about being stuck a nineteen year-old and being called a kid, and now that you're not? You're crying about it, too!"

Anton frowns at your sharp but resoundingly true words. He crosses his arms, leaning closer to you across the table, his eyes taking on a candid gravity. "I'm serious this time, Y/N, I'm spiralling. I feel like I should be doing… more?"

You blink at him. Count on Anton to have an existential crisis in the library of all places. You could've even get get vulnerable with him right now if you wanted, what with the mobs of students surrounding you, chattering away in their own circles. 

You pat his arm across the table, feeling the soft fabric of his baby blue hoodie that always sat so well with his eyes.  "It'll be fine, Ant, you're doing enough as it is. You're a good student and a good friend, too. That's more than a lot of people can claim."

He doesn't hide the small smile that creeps onto his face, "You really think so?" Then, he tilts his head and like a switch turning, his smile turns flirtatious. "But that's all you think of me as? A good friend?"

You stare back at Anton, at a loss for words at his sudden change in demeanour. "Well, yeah? Aren't we…?" you ask the question hoping he'd drop the act and laugh it off but his smile is only morphing further into a smirk the more flustered you get.

Feeling your ears warm, you avert your gaze, suddenly incredibly intrigued by the laptop screen of a girl working a table away from you. You think about Anton and how the two of you had always been closer to each other, compared to the rest of your friends. Maybe it was only because your schedules always matched up, allowing you to grab meals together and hole up in the library after. Maybe it was because you lost track of time when you were with him, laughing at something stupid or spouting something stupid yourself just to watch him laugh with you. 

You couldn't say the possibility of being something more to him hadn't crossed your mind. Of course it had, Anton was the most charming guy you'd been around for a while and you felt comfortable with him like with nobody else. And it was that comfort that was the very reason you didn't feel the need to pursue more with him: it was enough to be his friend. 

But something had changed about him ever since he turned 20 a week ago. You don't know where to pin the feeling that he'd changed but he'd become more… direct. For example, the night of his birthday, you'd decided to show up at his door to wish him in person at exactly 12 am. He'd been thrilled to see you and pulled you into a hug. A completely normal hug. Just a little too long for two people who were just friends. But you had been more than happy to feel his warmth so you didn't mention it. When you did finally pull away, Anton had chased you face, planting a kiss on your cheek out of the blue.

It had caught you off guard like nothing else. You'd stared at him, not unlike how you'd looked at him a few minutes ago, turning hotter by the second. But he'd simply grinned the purest grin ever, thanking you sincerely for wishing him. 

With that and his sudden question of your relationship with him, you didn't know what to think anymore. 

Anton has gone back to his work by the time you come back to your senses, as cool as ever. You can hear the hum of the music in his earbuds as he types away at his computer. You really don't know what to think, with his flirting and nonchalance after. God, you think you might drive yourself crazy.

And you desperately want to keep your sanity so later that night, on your walk back home from the library, you try to hint at it. "Hey, you know…" you start, catching his attention, "I feel like you've changed somehow… since you turned 20."

He looks amused at your admission, brows quirking up, "Really? Please, do say more."

"Well," your eyes jump from his to your shoes and then back, "Like you're acting different."

"I am?" his cheeks rise, "Is it weird?" 

You note that he doesn't ask you how he's acting different, implying he probably knew what he was doing. The thought of it being on purpose only rattles you more. 

"Not weird, no," you breathe, "I'm just not used to it, I guess." You hate yourself for not knowing where you were going with his. Anton might as well think you were the weird one for reading into his actions so much without having a proper reason to. 

But before you can backtrack on your observation, you feel Anton's hand brush against yours. You look up at the contact and then, his fingers interlace with yours, a soft tug bringing your joined hands into his pockets. 

Your heart nearly catapults itself outside of your chest at the sudden touch. All while Anton watches you but you turn coy, looking away. 

"Is this okay?" his voice is low, so as to not startle you. As if you could possibly be any more startled than you already were.

You look at him once again and his eyes are sincere, as sincere as his hand is in yours, keeping you close to his side. "Yeah, it's fine," you hear yourself saying, as if you didn't belong to your own body anymore. 

You walk back in silence but warmer than ever, with Anton's hand enveloping yours the whole time. You feel dizzy with the weight of his touch and with the confusion of it all. 

He walks you to your room without a word and when your hands finally part, he gives you a soft smile. "Good night, Y/N." You nod, unsure if you could form any words right now. You turn to unlock your room when Anton speaks up again: "Oh, and about earlier? You might wanna get used to it." 

You spin to face him but he's walking away without another look at you and you swear your knees all but give out under you with how weak you feel. Your words from earlier come rushing back and your heart races even in your own company as you enter your room. Anton might just be the death of you at this rate. 

— 

The next day you retain your composure for the most part, all thanks to the fact that you don't encounter Anton as often as usual because you have back-to-back meetings for club activities and a class project. But the feeling of accomplishment vanishes as soon as you spot him outside the study room where you'd met up with your project-mates. They leave, biding you goodbye and side-eyeing the boy outside, clearly waiting for someone. 

"Anton?" you call out, slowly approaching him. He looks up with a beam, "Hey! You're finally done?"

"Yeah, but what are you doing here?"

"You said you'd be here for your meeting so I thought I'd come pick you up."

You faintly recall shooting him a text about not being able to meet up at your usual spot because of your group meeting but hadn't expected him to show up there.

"Oh, I guess that's nice of you," you say.

"You guess?" Anton echoes, sulking, "Come on, Y/N. I've been sad 'cause I didn't get to see you all day and that's all you have for me? We have a lot of work to do here."

You're in a daze the whole time he's speaking, watching his lips move and feeling your stable headspace slip farther away from you. "No, I mean, I'm glad to see you, too. I just didn't expect it." 

"Told ya to get used to it, didn't I?" he shakes his head like it's the most obvious thing in the whole world. "Anyway, are you free for the night now?"

When you nod, he goes on. "You wanna come over and watch a movie with me? I've been wanting to watch it for a while now but I never got the chance too…" He goes on to give you a brief synposis of it and you can practically feel the excitement radiating off him. 

You laugh at his genuine enthusiasm and agree without a thought, forgetting your current weakness around him.

Which is why it only dawns upon you when you step foot into his room to find it to be oddly… small. Is it the same size it had always been? Yes. Had you been alone in it with him before? Also, yes. But had it ever felt like you were going to pass out from anxiety because you were all alone with him before? No. 

You plop onto his bed without a word and if Anton notices your zoned out state, he says nothing. He takes his coat off and hangs it up, tapping your shoulder. "You sure you don't want to take your jacket off? It's kinda warm in my room." You nod, having forgotten to slip your jacket off. You hand him your jacket with a soft thanks. 

You hate to be the shell of a person you are right now, so you make yourself comfortable, sitting against the wall with a cushion for your back, taking your boots off. You pat your chest as Anton is busy setting his laptop up in a position for both of you to watch on his bed. When he finally takes his seat next to you, settling closer than he usually does, you tell yourself to stay calm and enjoy the rush of feeling his arm brush against yours, instead of letting it unnerve you. 

It helps to let the feeling be, instead of running from it. You relax in your own skin, finding the peace to finally focus on the movie instead of the boy next to you and in your heart. 

It's a sweet movie, as it turns out, even earning a few tears from you as the ending credits roll in. Anton hits pause on the movie, shifting to look at you. You half-chuckle through your tears, wiping them haphazardly with the back of your hand. 

Anton catches your wrist in his, pulling it away from your face and to his lap. His thumb replaces your hand, gently wiping at your cheekbones. "I'm guessing you liked the movie then?" his voice is tender, not mocking like you might have expected. You nod, "Yes." 

"I'm glad. I wasn't sure you'd be willing to spend time with me alone after… after yesterday," Anton says, his lashes hooding his eyes as he speaks, tone suddenly coy, "But I'm glad what I said didn't make you uncomfortable." 

"...you were worried?" you ask, shocked at his shy revelation.

"Well, yeah, I was worried when I didn't get to see you the whole day today that maybe you were avoiding me. But that was just me overthinking things. I'm scared to fuck things up with you."

You find yourself smiling at his sincerity. "You're so cute, Anton." 

The words slip out of you before you can filter them and the boy's head bobs up in shock at your compliment, and you both sit in silence, staring at each other's flustered faces. 

And then you both break into laughter at yourselves. "What are we even doing?" 

Anton runs a hand through his hair, "I don't know, Y/N. What do you want us to do?"

You rest your head against the wall, humming, "I want us to stay this way. To be with you." 

He chuckles, "I feel like those are mutually exclusive events, no?" 

"They don't have to be," you mumble, reaching for his hair, just so you can feel the soft strands tickle your skin. "I'm happy with you, Anton."

Anton's hand finds yours in his locks, bringing it to his lips as he kisses your knuckles. "I like being with you too, Y/N. But I want more. Maybe I'm just being selfish, but I want you, all of you."

His words would've sent your heart into paralysis had they been uttered a few hours ago but having been lulled into the comfort of his presence for a while now, having attuned yourself to your own feelings at last, you feel a soaring feeling, like you had finally found something you had been looking for this whole time.

Anton's pulling you closer, his hand encompassing yours as his face overwhelms your vision. "Kiss me already," you urge him and just like that, his lips find yours, with a crash that makes you giggle a little. The force of his warm lips sways you a little and Anton catches you in his arms, pulling you into him by the waist. 

"Can't believe I finally did it," you hear him whisper when he pulls back, looking at you in awe. "You don't understand how long I've been wanting to kiss your damn face." You laugh into him and he hugs you tight. "God, when you showed up at my door on my 20th birthday, I swear it took me everything to not kiss you right there and then."

"If I recall correctly, you did kiss me," you remind him, "Granted, it was on the cheek. But you could've sped the process up had you just kissed me for real."

Anton glares at you, "You're saying that? Really? After you went mute because of said cheek kiss? If anything, I was being considerate. Plus, I would kill to see you go that red again."

"You jerk! So you were teasing me on purpose!" 

"Well, yeah? What kind of a guy would I be if I didn't flirt with the girl I like a little just to enjoy how she reacts? It's the cutest shit ever!"

You hide your face in his sleeve, "You suck. I lost sleep over that, you know."

"Good to know that it wasn't just me, then." Anton's arms wrap around you so naturally that you can only wonder if this was really your first time being intimate with him. 

When you rise from his arm, his lips capture yours again, urgently like he was running out of time. You return his fervor, just as desperate in your desire as he was. That night, you fall asleep in Anton's arm, feeling his heart beat next yours as you dream away. 

– 

It takes you a second to get used to the feeling of Anton being your boyfriend. Because in many ways, it's the same as always: him picking you up from class to eat lunch together and spending your time together struggling with coursework. But now there's more to it: you walk home, hand in hand, and spend your nights together.

"Hey, you wanna come over and make out after you're done with this meeting?"

You snap around to glare at Anton when he whispers the question in your ear. You hit his arm and he laughs boyishly, shrugging, "What? I'm just being real because you and I both know that's what's gonna end up happening–"

"You're outrageous, Anton," you shake your head, "We don't always–! Well, maybe most of the time, yes, but–" He cuts you off, pecking your cheek. "Yes, yes, whatever you say, babe. I'll see ya in an hour." 

– 

[beritybaker]

Preheating, Freezing

My first @steddiebingo fic for round 2! Prompts: Bakery AU, Trapped

Takes place post-Vecna, but in an AU where Eddie wasn't involved. Also - Weirdo Steve Harrington supremacy.

Rating: G | WC: 4,851 | Tags: Pre-Steddie, Coworkers, Crying, Codependent Robin & Steve, PTSD, Head Trauma, Emotional Hurt/Comfort | ao3

If it weren’t for this job, Eddie doesn’t know what he would do. Get a different one, he supposes, but that would suck ass. He likes the one he has. He likes showing up at 4:00 AM after a late-night-turned-early-morning, using the quiet hour of solitude between the drunks and the go-getters to mull over last night’s gig, or the progress he made on his campaign before he had to head out for work. He likes surrounding himself with the smell of proofing sourdough and pies in the oven, and munching on yesterday’s chocolate croissants with an extra-large coffee.

What he doesn’t like is training new hires.

It’s not a common occurrence. The joint is family owned, and small—so small it doesn’t really have a name. People call it “the place by Bradley’s” when they’re talking about where to get a birthday cake, and nobody asks which one when Eddie tells them he works at the bakery. Still, it’s popular enough to get a steady stream of customers until mid-afternoon, and with Chrissy gone for school, he knows they need another part-timer to pick up the slack. He just wishes his morning peace didn’t have to be interrupted for it.

“Hey, Munson.”

“Harrington,” Eddie replies, unlocking the door. He glances up as his newest coworker approaches from the BMW parked on the curb, yawning wide. “Early enough for you?”

“Feel like I’m headed to swim practice,” Steve says through the end of the yawn.

Eddie steps through the door and holds it open for Steve to pass through behind him. “A lot less bread at swim practice, I hope.”

“Definitely.”

Locking the door behind them, Eddie beckons for him to follow to the kitchen. He punches in, grabs a clean apron from the hook by the time clock, and leans toward the rack of cards while he puts it on. When he finds Steve’s name, he mutters, “Aha,” and plucks it from the rack to hand to him. “You ever used one of these before?”

Steve nods, sticks his card into the machine, and puts it back in the rack next to Eddie’s. “Same kind we had at Scoops.”

“That’s right, you worked at the food court. So did I.”

“Really?”

“Yep. Burger King.”

“Oh, wait.” A sly smile makes its way across Steve’s face. “So you had to wear that god-awful red polyester? And I thought we had it bad with the sailor outfits.”

“At least those things looked a tiny bit breathable,” Eddie agrees. “It was honestly a relief when the mall burned down, because I didn’t have to wear that shit ever again.”

Inexplicably, Steve’s smile freezes into an unsettled grimace. “Y-Yeah,” he mumbles. “Yeah, I guess not.”

Okay…weird. Eddie knows that look. It’s the same one Wayne gets when something reminds him of the F5 that came way too close to the trailer park in ’74, or the look his mom would get when her asshole brother came around. Eddie wants to ask why his dumb joke seemed to give Steve a fucking Vietnam flashback, but he holds his tongue. Maybe he was there when it happened, or a friend of his died in the fire. Whatever the case, Eddie’s not about to drag all that shit out of him while he’s supposed to be teaching him how to work the big oven, no matter how curious it makes him.

“Right,” Eddie says. He clears his throat and reaches for a second apron. “So, um…put this on, unless you want to look like a powdered donut. That’s step one.”

Steve obediently pulls the thing over his head.

While he’s tying it, Eddie goes on, “Step two is looking at the list for today.”

“The list?”

He leads Steve to the bulletin board by the walk-in freezer and taps the paper pinned up in the corner. “Everything we’ve got to get in and out of the oven before the morning rush. Some special orders to prep, but mostly—”

“Breakfast stuff?”

Eddie resents being interrupted, but at least it tells him Steve is on the right page. “Yep.” He pulls the list down and reads by the dim bulb above the sink.

“Do you want me to turn on the light?”

“Good god, no. I never turn it on if I can help it.”

“Oh…okay.” Steve stands there looking awkward and useless.

Eddie ignores him, turning his attention back to their morning checklist. He usually thinks aloud, and this morning is no exception. He hopes Steve is listening so he doesn’t have to repeat himself. “Croissants and scones are in the freezer; they can go right in the oven. George made the bagels last night, just have to pull those out of the pantry and put ’em in the case. Muffins: blueberry and…maple flax? Really, Pauline? We haven’t sold more than two flaxseed muffins all month.” He sighs, knowing what he’ll be having for breakfast tomorrow. “Whatever…”

“So we need to make muffins?” Steve says.

Eddie glances up. He’d almost forgotten there was someone else in the room. “Yeah. But we should take care of the scones first. Can you set the oven to four-hundred?”

“Oh,” Steve says again. “Sure.” He turns to one of the two industrial-sized ovens a few feet away, walks over, and stares at it for a moment. Then he turns back to Eddie and says, “Uh…how?”

Trying to suppress a long-suffering sigh (though admittedly not trying very hard) Eddie marches over and shows him, punching buttons with learned precision. “Got it?”

“Yeah. I think so.” Steve lets out a nervous chuckle. “You’re a braver man than me.”

“Why do you say that? You afraid of ovens or something?”

“No! God, wouldn’t that be funny, working in a bakery?” Another chuckle. “No, I just can’t turn on an oven without checking inside first. Cleaning up melted Tupperware isn’t something I want to do ever again.”

Eddie stares at him. “You left Tupperware in your oven?”

“My mom did. My family doesn’t bake much, so she stores it there. One time I wanted to make cinnamon rolls, and let’s just say the fire department wasn’t amused.”

“Well, lucky for us, the only thing that passes through this oven is stuff that’s supposed to be there. Speaking of which”—Eddie whirls and heads back to the walk-in—“let me show you where we keep the stuff that gets prepped ahead of time.” He pulls the handle on the massive door and lets it swing wide. A frigid cloud hits them, and he steps forward. Once Steve is inside too, he props the door open behind them.

“Chilly,” Steve remarks, chuckling yet again. “Would suck to get trapped in here.”

Eddie raises his eyebrows, but doesn’t otherwise acknowledge the observation. Instead he points at the shelves at eye level and says, “Right here is where you’ll always find stuff for the day ahead. By the time the afternoon shift is here, this will all be gone, and they’ll fill the shelf back up with tomorrow’s.” He picks up a baking sheet, covered in doughy triangles that are just visible through a layer of frosty plastic wrap. “These are orange-cranberry scones. There’s some blueberry-lemon and cinnamon right there. Go ahead and grab a tray, and we’ll start putting ’em in the oven as soon as it’s done preheating.”

Stepping out of the freezer, the temperature of the kitchen is a stark contrast. With the oven heating up, the whole room has started to get a little stuffy. Eddie puts his tray of scones on the counter next to the oven and goes to open the window. Usually he opens it before turning anything on. That’s what happens when something fucks with my routine. He wonders what else he’s going to forget before this shift is through. Hopefully it won’t be anything important.

The next half-hour is uneventful. Steve takes instruction surprisingly well, always rushing to do whatever Eddie suggests—though at times, he realizes just a moment later that he needs further guidance. Over the course of the morning, Eddie becomes more and more willing to give it, because goddammit, despite his misgivings, the guy’s charm is undeniable. He’s still not happy to be losing his quiet time, but at least Steve doesn’t say more than he needs to. With another set of hands there, Eddie is also more productive than usual, and by a quarter to five they’re left with very little to do.

He goes over their remaining tasks in his head. They’re all easy things: packing up Flo’s usual order for the station, feeding the sourdough starter, putting the muffins and loaves in the case once they’re out of the oven, replacing them with the pies of the day. Last thing to do is put together the cookies for the Wheelers’ party platter, but it’s a little early for that.

Time for breakfast, then, he thinks, and he calls out for Steve, who ventured into the freezer at his suggestion to pull out the unbaked pies. “Let’s take a breather. You wanna pick out a bagel? Bet we could get away with raiding the fresh ones.”

He doesn’t get an answer.

Furrowing his brow, Eddie tries again. “Harrington? Do you want some breakfast or not?”

Still nothing.

He rounds the corner to the freezer and finds the big door shut. Whirling around and around for some sign of where Steve went, he starts to panic. It’s not that he’d be upset if Steve decided bakery life wasn’t for him and skipped out on him; it’s more about the fact that Pauline will definitely blame it on Eddie for scaring him off. His snark is no secret, and he’s pretty sure it’s why she gave him the pre-open morning shift in the first place, to keep his mouth from offending any customers. The last thing he needs is for the manager to have another excuse for her weird vendetta.

Eddie breathes a sigh of relief when he spots an unfamiliar set of keys on the hook beside the bulletin board. Steve is still here, unless he decided to leave his car for some reason.

Turning back to the freezer, Eddie cocks his head in confusion. Did he shut himself in? He reaches out, turns the handle, and pulls the door open. On the other side, he does find Steve, though not remotely in a state he anticipated.

He’s huddled on the floor, with his back to a shelf of frozen butter, and though he jumps about a foot in the air at the sound of the door creaking on its hinges, the startled look on his face does nothing to hide how red and puffy his eyes are. “Munson!” He shoots to his feet, wiping his nose on the back of his hand and sniffling hard. It’s clear he’s desperate to look casual, though his voice is thick and rough when he goes on, “Sorry, man. I, uh…I got stuck.”

Eddie stares, blinking. “You got stuck,” he echoes.

“Yeah.”

Because he’s never been one to shy away from the elephant in any room, he purses his lips and says, “Is that all you were crying about? Getting stuck in the walk-in?”

Steve looks startled all over again by Eddie’s candor. He opens and closes his mouth half a dozen times before crossing his arms over his chest and grumbling, “No.”

Now Eddie is even more surprised. “Okay…then why were you crying?”

There are a few different emotions in conflict on Steve’s face. Eddie spots the ones he expects, with fear and shame taking the lion’s share. There’s also a tiny flicker of something hopeful, though, and he realizes a moment before he speaks that Steve must be debating whether or not to be honest. He huffs, then says, “I miss Robin.”

“What?”

“Robin Buckley. This is the first job I ever had without her, since she left for U of L. I mean, I guess that’s if you don’t count that summer I was a lifeguard, but that was totally different, because—”

“You mean to tell me,” Eddie interrupts, because he knows the beginning of a nervous ramble when he sees one, “that you came to the walk-in to cry because you’re used to working with your friend?” When he sees some of Steve’s fear overtaking his shaky confidence, he hurriedly adds, “Which is totally fine! I mean, we’ve all done it.”

Steve stares. “You have?” he says, with the dull monotone of disbelief.

“Yeah. I mean, not for the same reason, but if you ask around you’ll find that the walk-in is a popular spot for the occasional mental breakdown among staff.”

“I guess that makes sense,” Steve says slowly, seeming to mull over the concept. “We did the same thing at Scoops sometimes.”

“Robin worked with you there, too, right?” Eddie says, trying to keep his voice as gentle as possible without sounding patronizing.

A leftover tear escapes over Steve’s lashes and drips down his cheek. He wipes it away impatiently and nods. “It’s where we met. And then she basically got me the job at the video store, because Keith hated my guts. When she left for school…I don’t know. I couldn’t stand being there without her around, so I quit.” He grimaces and shakes his head. “Not the best idea I ever had.”

“So you two went from food service straight into retail? No wonder you’re best friends. You’ve been through a lot together.”

The joke does its job. Steve laughs a bit and says, “You have no idea.”

Glad to have diffused some of the tension, Eddie taps Steve’s shoulder with his knuckles and says, “Anyway, I was looking for you. You wanna have some breakfast?”

“That sounds like a good idea,” Steve sighs. He sniffs one more time, but it’s clear his tears have dried up. Before they make it out of the freezer, though, he says, “Oh! I did actually get stuck, though. Is there a way out of here when that happens?”

“Sure. Want me to show you?”

“If you don’t mind.”

Eddie smiles. “That’s what I’m here for.” He takes a step back and lets the door shut with a metallic thud. “It’s really easy. All you have to do is…oh. Wait.” He stares at the lever that opens the door from the inside.

There’s a beat of silence before Steve says, “Everything okay?”

Still with his eyes fixed on the mechanism, Eddie bites his lip. “I, uh. I forgot.”

“You forgot what?”

He turns to meet Steve’s gaze, hoping his apologetic look masks the rising alarm. “It’s broken.”

Steve’s eyes go wide. “So we’re…?”

“Yeah.”

He swallows. “And Pauline—”

“Won’t be here for another half-hour,” Eddie finishes for him.

“But the muffins are supposed to come out in twenty minutes!”

It’s such a strange thing to be concerned about in their current predicament that Eddie actually laughs. In fact, he doubles over, struggling to breathe the frigid air and leaning on one of the shelves to keep himself on his feet.

“What’s so funny?” Steve demands.

“Nothing! It’s just…you’re looking down the barrel of half an hour stuck in the freezer…and you’re worried about the muffins?”

“We worked hard on them,” he says, looking wounded. Before long, though, he seems to understand how absurd it is, and the look morphs into a sheepish grin.

Eddie hates to admit it, but that expression is one of the most adorable things he’s ever seen, and the dopey giggle it’s paired with does his psyche no additional favors. “They’ll be okay with an extra ten minutes. Maybe a little charred, definitely a little dry. That just means Pauline’s vision of a flaxseed empire will crumble.” He snorts at his own pun, then adds, “It’s her own fault for not getting the repairs done as soon as the door broke last week.”

“It’s a safety issue, actually. I’ll bring it up with my mom.”

“Your mom? Why?”

“She’s friends with Pauline. It’s the only reason I got this job,” Steve says. He smirks. “I bet if I tell her about this, it’ll be fixed by tomorrow.”

“Hm. So you’ve got an in with the boss, huh? That could come in handy.” Eddie sinks to the floor, right next to where Steve sat a minute ago.

Steve lowers himself with a groan, joining him. “Don’t get too excited. She’ll only raise hell about the freezer door because it’s a hazard.”

“So that means no raise, huh?”

“I’d say probably not.”

“Damn.” Eddie shoots him a grin. “Well, forcing her to meet OSHA standards is better than nothing. It might be nice having you around.”

“That’s good to hear. I was so worried about fucking up, I hardly slept at all last night.”

“Why? You’re doing just fine.”

Steve sighs. “I guess sometimes it feels like—or, I don’t know, it felt like Robin did most of the work, at Family Video at least. I don’t know shit about movies. Even though she tried to show me some, my memory is total shit, so I didn’t ever retain much.”

“So you’re not into movies. Who cares?” Eddie shrugs. “I’m not that into baking, even though I’ve been working here since my junior year. Everything I do turns out like it’s supposed to, but it’s not like I could bake a loaf of banana bread without the recipe right in front of me. Although,” he says, smirking, “it has given me a lot of ideas for things to add a secret ingredient to, if you catch my drift.”

Steve exhales a short laugh and looks down at his lap, where his hands fidget with the hem of his apron.

“I’m just saying, you probably did a lot more for that joint than Keith’s encyclopedic knowledge of Star Trek ever did.”

He exhales again. “You know about that?”

“Oh, I’m very familiar. One time we got into it over who would win in a fight between Tolkien’s orcs and the Klingons.”

“I have no clue what that means.”

“That doesn’t matter,” Eddie says, waving a dismissive hand. “Just know that he came into that argument with more trekkie trivia than I thought even existed.”

Steve laughs. He actually laughs out loud, instead of letting out one of his nervous chuckles.

It’s a pretty sound, Eddie thinks. Too pretty. The last thing he needs is to start thinking about how cute Steve is, especially if they’re gonna be working together.

Because Steve is cute. He always has been, and Eddie isn’t about to deny it: gorgeous face, melodic laugh, a cleverly self-deprecating attitude that plays Eddie’s heartstrings like a fiddle. None of that changes the fact that Steve Harrington was a cookie-cutter jock in high school, though. He’s the type of guy who would probably kick his ass if he called him cute out loud.

Then again…he’s close enough with some hyper band geek to be weeping over her absence. More importantly, he owned up to the tears, and the potentially embarrassing reason for them. Eddie knows that’s not something his old douchebag friends would’ve ever let him live down. So maybe he’s…sensitive. In a good way.

In a cute way.

“Look, I know I’m not Buckley,” Eddie says, “but maybe I can stand in for her. At least ’til she’s home for Thanksgiving.”

Steve studies his face. It takes Eddie a moment to register that he’s looking for some kind of cruel joke, his wary eyes searching for a sign that Eddie’s putting him on for laughs. Eddie wonders how often that used to happen with his old friends. Lord knows they did it to the rest of their peers, though he hadn’t ever considered the fact that Tommy H might’ve been just as much of an asshole to Steve as he was to everyone.

“I’ll be your work buddy,” Eddie elaborates, trying to sound sincere while keeping his tone light. “You need to bitch about something, you can bitch to me.”

“Okay,” Steve finally says, a cautious smile playing at the corners of his lips.

“It goes both ways, though. You have to let me bitch about management, too.”

“Deal.”

“And I promise that it will be in no way an excuse to get you to tattle on Pauline.”

Steve laughs again. If he’s not careful with that giggle of his, Eddie’s gonna fall in love with him.

They’re quiet for a while. The cold is starting to get to Eddie, but with Steve close to him, it’s not too bad. He checks his watch, starts to comment on how it won’t be long before Pauline waltzes in and frees them, but Steve speaks up first.

“I’m sorry if I was ever a dick to you in high school,” he says, his voice quiet.

Eddie bites the inside of his cheek. “Nah, it’s all water under the bridge.” He pauses, thinking. “You know what? Actually, I don’t think you ever were.”

Steve turns to look at him. “No?”

“No,” Eddie repeats, shaking his head. He offers a soft, playful smirk. “You’d have to know I existed to be a dick to me.”

“I knew who you were,” Steve protests. “I bought drugs from you once.”

“What about the bagels?”

His eye twitches, and he frowns. “Bagels?”

“Your order at the bakery. Sesame bagel with bacon, egg, and cheese. To go.”

“You…remember that?”

“Well, you came in every day at the ass-crack of dawn and ordered the same sandwich. Kinda hard to forget.” Eddie smiles, trying to get across that he’s not offended.

“I thought you said you worked at Burger King before.”

“Only last summer, because Pauline hired her nephew and I couldn’t stand him. I was here through most of high school. Had to come crawling back after the mall burned down.” Because guilt is starting to settle into Steve’s features like it belongs there, Eddie goes on, “It makes sense you don’t remember me, though—it’s not like Pauline would ever let me get away with my signature look working front of house.”

Still frowning, Steve says, “I just can’t believe I forgot.”

“You’re the one who said your memory’s shit,” Eddie reminds him with a gentle smile.

Thankfully, it draws a small one from Steve, too. “Good point.” He tilts his head, staring at the floor in front of him. “You know, Robin remembered that sandwich, too. We were in Click’s class first period, and she was so annoyed with me getting crumbs all over the place every day. I didn’t even know she was there.” The last part is so quiet, Eddie isn’t sure he was supposed to hear it.

“And now it takes a crowbar to pry you two apart,” he emphasizes.

“Not true,” Steve says. “She’s in a whole other state now.”

“Oh, boo-hoo,” Eddie shoots back, with yet another good-natured smile. “I bet you talk on the phone every night.”

Steve blushes. Though he doesn’t answer out loud, that’s answer enough.

“And you can always get in that beemer of yours to go see her. Isn’t it just a straight shot down 65? Can’t be more than an hour’s drive.”

Steve shakes his head, looking for all the world like a lost puppy. “I don’t want to bother her. Besides, I’m okay just talking to her on the phone.”

“Sure,” Eddie says. He shoots Steve a sly grin.

It earns him one in return. “Okay, fine. I’d love to go down and spend the day with her sometime.”

“If you need company on the drive…I’ll be around.”

The tips of Steve’s ears go as pink as his cheeks. “Thanks. I’ll keep you in mind.”

It was an experimental offer; the fact that Steve seems receptive makes Eddie’s heart start hammering, and suddenly he’s desperate to change the subject before he asks him out right then and there. He pushes out all his air in a huff and says, “There’s something else that’s bugging me.”

“There is?” Steve says. He looks uncertain again, though not quite as blue as he did when Eddie mentioned his usual breakfast in high school.

“Yeah. And it might a be a little personal, if that’s alright.”

He narrows his eyes, but he says, “Okay.”

“Earlier, when I brought up the mall burning down…you looked like you wanted to ralph. What was that about?” Eddie asks.

“Oh.” Steve surprises him by smiling and shaking his head. “You wouldn’t believe me.”

“I’m trapped in a giant icebox with King Steve, who just got done crying his eyes out because he’s got some kind of weird codependency going on with Robin Buckley, of all people.” Eddie catches his eye and raises an eyebrow. “At this point I’d believe anything.”

“Trust me, man. It’s pretty out there.”

“Try me.”

Steve shakes his head again. “It’s too weird.”

“I’m weird,” Eddie points out. “I’m like, the keeper of weird shit. If there’s something strange afoot and I’m not aware of it, I’m doing a subpar job.”

Fixing him with a wary look, Steve purses his smiling lips. It makes him look like he’s begging for just one more reason to spill the beans. Eventually, he says, “It could put a target on your back if you knew.”

“With who?”

“The feds.”

“Well, now you have to tell me,” Eddie whines, reveling in the short laugh Steve returns to him. “You can’t say something like that and expect me to just move on!”

“Okay, fine! I’ll tell you. But you can’t repeat a word of it to anyone.” Steve takes a deep breath, lets it all out, then takes another before he continues. “You remember a couple years ago, when Will Byers went missing?”

Eddie blinks, startled. “Will Byers? What does that have to do with the mall?”

“I’m getting there. You remember it?”

“Sure. Really pissed me off the way people talked about the kid when he came back. ‘Zombie Boy’…like he had a fucking say in the cops thinking that other body was him.”

“You remember the official story?”

Eddie raises his eyebrows and sighs, trying to recall what he heard on the news. “That he got picked up by some drifter, right? He got away from ’em, but he almost died in the wilderness before the Chief found him.”

Steve meets Eddie’s eye and shakes his head. “No.”

“No? What do you mean, ‘no’?”

“That’s not what happened.”

“Then what did happen?”

“He got kidnapped by a monster and taken to this…other dimension, or whatever. I’m not very good at explaining it. But his brother and Nancy Wheeler lured it out—this big fucker, at least seven feet tall, huge mouth for a face—and I fought it with them. Hopper and Joyce found Will and brought him back to the real Hawkins.”

Eddie stares—not in disbelief, because that would require a modicum of understanding, and he’s having some trouble processing what Steve just said. “You…? Hold on. Another dimension?”

“Told you it was weird,” Steve says, shrugging. “Anyway, the mall got attacked by another monster. Different kind, made of melted people, and it possessed Hargrove. The fire was a cover-up.”

“And you…?”

“I was there. Me and Robin, and a bunch of our other friends.” He grins in vague reminiscence. “Weird way to celebrate the Fourth of July, but at least there were fireworks.”

What the fuck? Is he off his rocker? His voice faint, Eddie echoes, “Fireworks?”

“Oh, we threw ’em at the melted-people monster,” Steve explains, dismissive. “Not sure how many I landed, because it turned out the Russians gave me a massive concussion, but—”

Russians?! “Let me get this straight,” Eddie says, turning towards Steve. He needs to see his face, needs to study it the same way Steve studied his earlier, looking in vain for a trace of humor. “Not only are these monsters real, but they’ve attacked people in Hawkins twice?”

“Three times,” Steve corrects. “The fucked-up pumpkin patches were because of the monsters, too. Will Byers got possessed that time.”

“Jesus Christ.”

“You regret begging me to tell you?”

“I’m gonna be totally honest, I’m not sure I believe you after all.”

“Fair enough. But I swear I’m telling the truth.”

“You sure you didn’t, like—”

Eddie is cut off by the clang of the door handle, signaling their rescue. As the heavy door swings open, and Pauline’s expression of apology comes into view, Steve presses a finger to his lips. He smirks once again, rises to his feet, and meets Pauline at the door, greeting her cordially.

It takes Eddie an extra few seconds to join them. He can’t move very quickly, because he’s too busy processing everything he just learned—not just Steve’s story, but the nonchalant and honest way he delivered it. Because it was clear that Steve at least thought he was telling the truth, which means one thing, regardless of whether he was right or if he’d had some vivid hallucinations.

Steve Harrington is way stranger than Eddie would’ve ever guessed.

[lixies-favorite-cookie]

🍪 — 𝐬𝐟𝐰 𝐚𝐥𝐩𝐡𝐚𝐛𝐞𝐭 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐡𝐨

☕ — paring・minho x reader // genres・ fluff alphabet headcanons! // words・2.7k // warnings・mild cursing and kissing ig.

a/n・i finally wrote something everybody clap!! this was fun asf to write and i took it as a little challenge to myself to write for somebody other than felix. (should i make this a silly little series while i'm finishing up my felix bodyguard fic ((teaser here)) because this satiates my need to yap and share my opinions.) (credits to @vampzity for the idea <33) (((please ignore any errors. i spent 3 hours writing this and posted it at 4 a.m. as always, if there is any please make me aware!! thank you so much for reading my love and stay tuned for my new 1,000 followers event!!)))

a — affection (how affectionate is he? how often does he show affection?)

minho is affectionate if you catch him at the right time. i don't think he'd be the type to throw his arms around you in the middle of walmart, but he'd brush the small of your back when somebody's close to you or interlock pinkies when walking down the aisle together. oh yeah, and he's totally the king of interlocking pinkies. he's interlocking pinkies at every public event, it doesn't matter where it is. around the boys, he'd probably pull you onto his lap and gently rub your thighs whenever you're talking. alone, i think that's when the affectionate minho starts coming out. he's a little more romantic, and a lot more shy.

b — beginning (what would he be like as a bsf; how would the friendship start?)

you were probably scared as shit to talk to him. he totally has this cold, intimidating vibe going on, but the moment, you, the most stunning person he's ever laid eyes on, starts talking to him—yeah, he's blushing like a maniac. he'd pretend to be all nonchalant knowing damn well that the moment you text him he's giggling and kicking his feet. he'd probably be all shy at first, never quite meeting your eyes and giving you small smiles at the start of your friendship, but oh, once you start getting comfortable with him, you realize how much of a menace he is. gives you butt taps all the time then blames it on a gobsmacked seungmin, hands raised and definitely terrified of you smacking him in the face. probably met at a grocery store or boba shop. still tries to act nonchalant, but the second you call him cute he's hiding his face in your neck.

c — cuddles (does he like to cuddle; how would he cuddle?)

speaking of hiding into necks. lee minho is a slut for cuddles, but he'd never actually admit that. he'd like it when you're laying on top of him, your warmth and heat surrounding him. extra points if your thighs are straddling him and your face is buried into his neck. chefs kiss. he'd be in a big hoodie, tired from a long day of slaying and drags you from the kitchen onto the couch and forces you to lay there (you love it) until you've both fallen asleep, the sound of your soft breaths and the smell of smoke coming from the cookies you abandoned. (nobody died in the making of this fanfic)

d — domestic (does he want to settle down? how good is he at cooking and cleaning?)

does minho wanna settle down? hmmm, i don't really know? i feel like with the right person yes, but far, far, farrrr into the future. it's already established that he's an amazing cook so he'd make you the most delicious, mouth watering meals you've ever tasted.

e — ending (if he had to break up with you, how would he do it?)

it all depends on the reason why you're breaking up. is it bad that i could imagine him doing it over text? if he's breaking up with you because of distance or if you did something crazy like cheating i feel like he'd definitely do it over text just because he'd be too emotionally exhausted to talk to you in person. if it was a mutual decision he would sit you down and have a conversation about it and then hold you while you both cry then agree to be there for each other no matter what.

f — fiancé (how does he feel about commitment; would he want to get married quick?)

minho wouldn't be the type to act off impulse, he'd definitely put a lot of thought into marriage. minho also wouldn't be the type to cheat so he knows that this commitment is forever, and wants to make sure you're ready for that. he would wait until it's the right time to propose. until, you're both in a good spot in your careers, your life, and your relationship. he would wait, but secretly, he's been wanting to marry you since he first heard the words "i love you". he would also psych himself out of it at least 12 times and go to chan for help. bonus: he'd propose on the bay with a picnic and a sunset, trees and flowers all around you. it would be downright magical.

g — gentle (how gentle is he; emotionally + physically?)

minho is such a baby at heart. he would be so gentle with you emotionally and physically. he would be the type to apologize a million different times if he accidentally hurts you and holds you close to his chest if you ever start crying. he might not be able to express his emotions very well, but he'd hold yours like they are the most precious thing in the world to him. he's so careful with your heart. RAAAA i literally love him so much he's my shala!!!

h — hugs (does he like hugs; how often does he hug you; what are his hugs like?)

his hugs would smell like the manliest cologne and feel so warm. he'd hug you tightly and love for you to bury your face into his neck. he's shy with hugs at first and would be so nervous to have you in his arms, but the longer you're together the more he craves your hugs. though, he's still totally shy.

i — i love you (how fast does he say i love you?)

minho would say the three magic words four months into your relationship. let me set the scene: you're walking, pinkies interlocks and your face is tilted at the sky. the stars look so beautiful at this time, and the more you look the faster you start connecting the constellations. minho had been muttering about something, nothing really important, just the kind of talk that fades into the background of a beautiful night. he chuckles when he notices your expression, bright and dazed, as though looking through the heavens. "are you listening to me?" he asks, amusement dancing in his tone. " 'm sorry, it's just...how could anybody not love the sky? it's so beautiful." you mutter mindlessly. he hadn't realized it until just then, how much he'd miss you if you were gone. those silly, trivial things like a nice cup of tea or smiling at a stranger, how you found the beauty in everything—even the bad stuff. you make his life worth living. it hits him like a ton of bricks, like somebody yanked the rug out from under him and now he's falling straight into your arms. that's when he says it—"i love you." you both stop. for a second, he wonders if he messed up, and then you let out one of your little happy squeals and press the words—"i love you,"—onto his face about as many times as there are stars in the sky. he realized two things that night. one: he was completely and irrevocably in love with you. and two: he wanted to be your husband.

j — jealousy (how jealous does he get; what does he do when he is jealous?)

minho gets jealous when he's using that resting bitch face to the max. that tongue in cheek thing he does? oh yeah, that's coming out full force the moment he sees another man flirting with you. if you're at a bar and some cocky mf struts up to you he's giving him the deadliest death glare, then looking him up and down and scoffing as if a man like him being in the vicinity of you is the most amusing thing he's seen all night. he wouldn't even try to say anything because he trusts you and knows you wouldn't do anything. it's funny, really, how this guy thinks he has a chance. after you're done smushing this guy's ego underneath your heel he'll get all pouty and be holding you the rest of the night—probably due to the alcohol, but we don't talk about that.

k — kisses (what are his kisses like; where does he like to kiss you; where does he like to be kissed?)

he'd give you so many forehead and nose kisses!! you'd get more of those kisses than lip kisses, especially around the boys. you'll just be laying there, existing, and suddenly his lips are puckered against your nose. it's so sweet. he will kiss you and then act like your heart didn't just melt into a puddle on the floor. he likes cheeks kisses, but like most of minho, he won't actually admit that. the second you give him a cheek kiss he's grinning from ear to ear and his entire face is a bashful shade of red.

l — little ones (how is he around children?)

minho would be so sweet with his own children, but with other peoples children he'd be like "get those snot goblins away from me!" minho would never call them snot goblin to their face, but he's definitely giving you that—get these snot goblins away from me!!—face when his auntie forces the baby onto him. with his own kids he'd totally teach them to be little menaces like sending them to pull pranks on the members. he doesn't like other peoples kid, but the second he's looking at his newborn babies face, all of a sudden his entire outlook on children have changed.

m — morning (how are mornings spent around him?)

the first morning spent at his house, you find him shirtless in the kitchen, a black apron reading the words: kiss the chef, the sweet smell of chocolate chips and pancakes clinging to his skin. that's when he realizes you do a little squeal when you're happy. it isn't loud or obnoxious, but it sure does scare the ever-loving shit out of him, spinning around on his heels and holding his spatula like a knife. you throw your hands up. he blinks, looks over at his pancakes (he should flip those soon), then back over to you. "what the hell was that?"you ignore him, sliding over to him with your socks."you made me pancakes!"he chuckles, running his fingers through his hair."yeah, i did."you bite your lip to conceal another giddy squeal, throwing your hands around his waist and pulling him into a deep kiss. he almost drops the pancakes.when you pull away, he's wide-eyed and his ears are bright red. he makes a vow to make you sooo many meals after this.

n — night (how are nights spent with him?)

nights are spent doing his 12 step skin care routine and chilling on his bed with snacks and a good movie, cuddled up beside each other. he'd totally let you do a silly animal shaped face mask and gorge on peanut butter m&ms while watching ginny and georgia (your pick not his). he would claim not to like the show, but he would take it as a personal offense if you tried to watch it without him. most nights are spent like this, quiet, calm and basking in each other's presence until you fall asleep.

o — open (when would he open up; does he say everything at once or does he wait to reveal himself?)

he's a total mystery, that adds to his nonchalant mystic. at first, he wouldn't reveal himself to you, mostly due to fear of ridicule. he would start to truly open up deeper into the relationship. he would make jokes about serious topics that made him feel vulnerable until one day, you grabbed him by the cheeks and reassured him that it was safe to talk to him. that's when he really started to reveal all those secrets.

p — patience (how easily angered is he?)

i don't see him as being a really angry person, he's more of a passive aggressive: eye roll and tongue in cheeks kinda guy. he'd be the kind of person to get pissed at himself more than anything, and only when he's asked you multiple times to do something than he might raise his voice , but that's very, very rare.

q — quizzes (how much would he remember about you; does he remember every little detail or is he forgetful?)

he doesn't cling to every detail like how some of the other members would, but he's also not the type to forget everything. it's more of a—he's literally always busy—and not a—he doesn't care about you—sorta thing. he would forget your favorite color, but remember the exact type of jewelry that you like or your favorite dish.

r — remember (what’s his favorite moment in the relationship?)

the first time he said "i love you." he can never forget that.

s — security (how protective is he; does he protect you; how would he like to be protected?)

minho would like to be emotionally protected. he's not keen on being vulnerable, so knowing that somebody holds the key to his heart can make him nervous. he likes knowing that it's safe in your hands. he protects you not only physically, but emotionally too. he'd be the type of boyfriend to step in front of you at any sign of confrontation, hands in his pockets and chin held high. he would make you feel so safe, placing his hand on the small of your back when you're crossing a road or pulling you into him whenever a creep is staring a little too hard.

t — try (how much effort does he put into dates, anniversaries, everyday tasks etc?)

he doesn't put a ton of effort into things, but that doesn't bother you because it's the thought he puts into it that makes up for it. he's so busy all the time, emotionally and physically drained, but he'll always make time for you. minho won't plan large, extravagant dates, but he'll run you a bath when you're cramping or massage your legs after a long day. he'll order takeout and throw tons of blankets onto the bed and have an in-home date night.

u — ugly (what are some of his bad habits?)

minho has a really bad habit of closing himself off during arguments and also having a quick temper. minho

v — vanity (how concerned is he with his looks?)

i don't think he'd care all that much about his looks at all, especially when he's with you. at first, he would be self-conscious about his facial expressions or the way he's dressed, but how he looks doesn't really faze him.

w — whole (would he feel incomplete without you?)

i don't think he'd feel incomplete if he's just working, but he'd be devastated if you broke up. he might send a quick "i miss you." text, but i don't think he'd be all that clingy.

x — xtra (random headcanons for him)

he's actually really shy!! he would try to prove that he's this cool, calm, collected baddie with amazing dance skills and perfect cheekbones, but around you he's a total spaz. he'd try to show off his dance moves one day and would trip over his own feet. he doesn't wanna mess anything up with you and would overcompensate any small mistake, especially emotionally because he knows he can look mean. he's also probably insecure about his resting face, give it lots of love and remind him you don't think he's mean!!

y — yuck (what are some things he wouldn’t like in general or in a partner?)

he wouldn't like boring people. i feel like he'd be most attracted to somebody who's kind and soft-hearted, yet incredibly passionate about their interests and are not afraid to show it. i feel like he would enjoy deep, intellectual conversations, but he also silly ones so somebody with the personality of a saltine cracker would not be the best suit.

z — zzz (what are his sleeping habits?)

he'd run hot in his sleep and kick you off of him in the middle of the night and then apologize profusely in the morning. he actually wouldn't mind if you were a blanket stealer because he's throwing the blankets off of him anyways. he'd either be a really still sleeper or the kind of person who randomly kicks in his sleep and he's rolling over and squishing you in between the mattress or he's as still as a statue. there is no in between.

[npdkondraki]

hi. kondraki scpverse is a trans woman. cope and seethe and read my essay about her below the cut. (it's really fucking long) (please god i put so much fucking work into this read it im begging you)

ok for starters for people who dont know what or who the hell im talking about right now (doubtful) (only adding this for the unitiated & newbies): this essay is about my awesome wife DR [REDACTED] HENRICH KONDRAKI(1) from pseudo-niche internet horror-fiction site THE SCP FOUNDATION(2/3). if you can't tell by our url i am Bonkers Crazy Insane about her and have been sporadically obsessed with her for several years. she sucks bad. anyways this post is about why i think she's a trans woman instead of being a "cishetallo man" like canon claims she is. you may be wondering; "but sawyer how is canon wrong about this if its canon" and to that i say. I know better than canon does dont worry about it. ok with that out of the way lets get into the schmeat of this thang

FIRST OFF. kondraki's entire view on masculinity is inherently tied to violence. she believes that if she isnt violent, cruel, and hiding her emotions constantly, then she isn't a 'real man'. her entire worldview, including her view of her own gender, is perceived through the lens of men, including herself, needing to be 'masculine', but she defines this masculinity through her own warped idea of what masculinity 'really is'. because she perceives men, and by extension masculinity itself, as violence, then she herself is violent. everything down to the way she speaks is designed to make her appear cruel, vindictive, and, most importantly, violent. she goes as far as claiming her favourite memory of working for the foundation is when she chased a man down and, quote, "[shot] his fucking face off"(4). however, despite all her tough-talk about being "badass"(5/6), she actually appears to be incredibly regretful about her actions(7), unlike her words imply.

she creates a cycle of retraumatizing herself over and over by hating everything being a man stands for, but refusing to acknowledge it. she leans into the idea that she is violent and cruel, creating a self-made cycle of self-hatred. this retraumatization makes her more violent; it causes her to lash out more, to be more vindictive, to be more outwardly cruel to people, to be more "man-like" in her eyes. she places herself into a self-made twister of hating herself enough that it rubs off on everyone else, and then positively claims its "[her] design"(8) rather than accepting how depressing it makes her life. she uses her own cruel perception of masculinity as a way to shield herself from the idea that she could ever, willingly, be a woman, because she's too violent and cruel and she'll never be a real woman, not in the same way people like rights & iris are. she fully, completely, and genuinely, believes that if she is able to "out-man" every man surrounding her then nobody is able to question what she thinks of herself.

theres an additional layer to how she views masculinity, in the sense that it makes her also view femininity as inherently docile, something that she lives by even when she is acting as a woman. in doing so she continues to perpetuate her idea that she must be violent to be masculine, because she views women (or, more specifically, the concept of being a woman) as fragile, weak, perceptible to being hurt, and she refuses to be any of these things. in refusing to view herself as a woman she, in her mind, refuses to view herself as emotional, hysterical, and, perhaps worst of all in her mind, just a woman. it's an incredibly unfortunate mix of how she was raised and the culture at her work; she is punished for being feminine (emotional, caring, nurturing, etc) and rewarded for being masculine (violent, cruel, selfish, etc) because that's just how people are in her line of work(9).

she views the entire experience and idea of being a woman as a joke. she's allowed to think about it, as a joke. she's allowed to be feminine, as a joke. she's allowed to be a girl, as a joke. she's allowed to be a pretty princess(10), as a joke. the very few brief moments where she allows herself to act on her impulses and suggest, even a bit, that she would like to be a woman is played for a joke(11/12/13/14/15). she speaks of being a woman as though it is a mystical thing, something she can only hope to achieve, less of a real option and more of a fantasy. she is acceptive of trans people(16), going so far as to say it seems that "it’s quite remarkable how productivity and morale improves once they come out and settle into living as their correct gender. [she imagines] it’s a huge relief, and it shows in everything they do." it's just that she truly doesn't view herself as being worthy of that. her entire life has been spent convincing herself that she isn't worth anything, let alone joy or comfort. she doesn't think she deserves to be allowed to transition. she believes that dr. kondraki needs to die, needs to be shot, needs to get it over with and kill herself already, and doesn't realize that the distance she puts between "[redacted] henrich kondraki" and "dr. kondraki" is a mask, a shell she can hide behind; it's a way for her to excuse any mention of her being a woman. if dr. kondraki can't be a woman, then [redacted] henrich kondraki can't be a woman either. it's nothing but a fantasy to her, something she can joke about and then discard along with the rest of her fantasies of being a good person, of being someone who deserves to be happy.

you can even bring her entire theming of butterflies into her own repression; the butterflies act as a camoflauge in the same way her mask of masculinity does. the only time she ever is truly gentle or nurturing or caring, all tasks she has deemed feminine, is with her butterflies. butterflies are specifically used in metaphors for transition, quite often appearing in trans artwork as a way to represent the death of who you once were and who you are now. the fact the butterflies also possess camoflauging abilities, which they tend to specifically use to make themselves (and kondraki) invisible, is in and of itself a metaphor for being in the closet, or, in kondraki's case, being repressed and refusing to acknowledge her transness. her transness is treated as though it's invisible, something she only looks at when it's disturbed, not unlike the way you can only see the butterflies by disturbing them. she refuses to acknowledge it, hides behind her camoflauge as a defense mechanism. coming to terms with her transness would make her have to disolve and be reborn, and she doesn't believe she deserves that. she doesn't believe she deserves to live free of the guilt, of everything she's done, so instead she stays camoflauged, stays in her bubble of masculinity where she feels her self-imposed shame and guilt.

all in all; kondraki is extremely repressed and refuses to accept that she's a woman, despite her progressive views, because she believes it would mean she is weak and fragile. she's terrified of her femininity, and uses violence and humor to deny every feminine part of herself.

DISCLAIMER. my choice to use specifically she/her for kondraki in this essay was a purposeful and deliberate choice and if you choose to use he/him after i have literally solely referred to her with she/her in this entire post i hate you personally. in other words

[satocidal]

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷Cult Leader and his what?

a/n: just my thoughts about cult suguru and his assistant - i'll expand on this so soon because you need to have a meet ugly version of these two

But I always love to imagine Suguru Geto, cult leader! Suguru, to be specific with a non-sorcerer reader, again for the specifics, his personal assistant. It’s Big Bad Suguru, at the prime of his cult era right, 27-28 and just a fresh out college/in their last year reader (in my thoughts, it is a 7-8 year age gap) who somehow find each other and it just works, very well for them.

Nobody would be more shocked than Suguru of course - a monkey? In his office? In his surrounding, in a way that not even sorcerers were provided the privilege to? In his personal space? It beat all his logics - but he rarely cared for that when his documents were so perfectly arranged, when you were ever present at his beck and call, because maybe, it kind of serves his ego.

And because he does adore it when you use cutesy crafts on his documents (pretends he allows it because nanako and mimiko like it).

Thus, somehow, unlucky or not - you two work along, why, how, when and what don’t matter because it works.

Suguru is very non-chalant about it too, chime in with polite good mornings to everyone and then, maybe glance at you once. You would think he’s mean, rude even, manipulative in the very least - but Suguru maintains his relations well, if he’s chosen to trust his work force and his very ideas and plans with you (because of course, he loves rambling about that all the time) - he makes sure you can offer the same trust.

After all, that’s the basic idea of his cult too, isn’t it? Always trust in suguru. 

One would think he'd be mean, but i don't think Suguru truly is capable of that - especially since you are a college student (let it be, that you needed the money he'd giving); he has first hand experienced stress, albeit a different kind but he's no stranger to it - sure, distant could be a word to describe the intial phases of your relation.

But that's only prompted because he's unsure of how he'd end up reacting around you, you know? because you are such a stark reminder to everything he's left behind - reminder of what he wants to hate.

Still and yet, he tries and so do you.

It was a simple job, comparatively - and he paid handsomely, and through and through, he did make sure you weren’t dead anyways + rest of his family was actually open to talk to you, so that was endearing too. 

You can’t really see curses either right, so sometimes, if he’s chatty - mid-procession he’ll start muttering to you about the issue, or if not that, bitching about the wealthier suckers that come to him.

I like to think initially, Suguru would be hesitant still - but you have the skill set and since he forces you to not talk (you tried, it didn’t work) - you offer him a great listening partner. And thus, slowly, the distance slowly blurred.

Some late night work meetings where he caught you staying up late has him questioning your classes the next day, he begins asking about those classes itself, allowing you to work on some assignment if he has nothing for you to do - eyeing you carefully as you work. He begins allowing your lateness in the morning, especially if you look like you were running on less sleep - because he knows and understands.

Simple glances turn to muttered ‘mornings’ when you hastily provide him with the whatever-cult-leaders-do-schedule and the bitching about work-partners turns into slow conversations, just about anything. 

I like to think Cult Leader! Suguru would have the softest heart for his little assistant, despite what everyone believes.

[pink-nightmare-lab]

✨🦇General!Lilia Vanrouge one-shot🦇✨

Summary: reader is a diurnal* fae and is curious about the nocturnal fae so she goes to their territory to satisfy her curiosity

*Diurnal: basically the opposite of nocturnal, in other words, most active during the day

Other info: reader is female and a faerie🦋

Side note: might turn this into a fully fledged fanfiction with multiple chapters, also, I don't know the word count but it's long

Also, everything is purely made up, I took some inspo from the Tinkerbell movies and used my own imagination, so yeah, nothing canon here but HOLY MOLY, it took me so long to finish this

You live in a beautiful village surrounded by big trees where fae of all kinds flutter by or walk, going on about their day while the warm sun shines through the trees and illuminating the village in a golden glow, flowers blooming in every corner and magic flowing through the cores of the trees protecting the village.

You were a diurnal fae, to be exact, a butterfly faerie, wings as soft as silk and delicate like the wings of the small butterflies fluttering by, there was nothing better than to fly around and feel the breeze caress your skin like a gentle kiss.

It was widely known that faeries have conflicts with humans for centuries now but even amongst faerie kind, conflicts exist too, for one, nocturnal and diurnal faerie don't seem to get along too well and usually stay out of each other's skin just to avoid unpleasantries.

Yet no matter how often the others warned you and told you all sorts of stories, you always wanted to see the nocturnal fae up close out of sheer curiosity, after all, what if they aren't as bad as everyone says they are?

It's dawn when you slowly arise from your slumber, stretching and letting your wings flutter before getting out of bed, the village slowly coming to life to proceed with their daily tasks.

Today or rather tonight will be different, tonight you're venturing outside the territory of the diurnal faeries and into the lands of the nocturnal fae, yearning to learn more about them since books don't cover much about them.

You put on a beautiful floral dress and your hair up so it won't bother you for today's flower caretaking amongst other butterfly faeries in the nearby meadow.

You flutter towards your closet and grab a dark brown cloak and stuff it into a bag for later, after all, nobody should see it's you and with those big wings of yours that resemble those of a monarch butterfly, they'd stick out like a sore thumb, especially in the dark forest of the nocturnal fae territory, big bright orange wings would certainly be an unusual sight over there.

Once you're ready, you flutter towards the meadow, some already there and tending to the moon flowers, preparing them for an upcoming festival, pollinating them with a special pollen and making sure no illness befell at least one of them.

While you scatter the pollen on the flowers, you carefully observe the guards, ever so often hiding beneath the big flowers to take a better glimpse at them, listening in and trying to memorise their patrolling pattern, technically, it wasn't forbidden to leave the village at night but when your reasoning is to visit the nocturnal fae and try to become friendly, well, that's another story.

When it finally becomes evening, it's time to get ready, you put on a cloak and wait around a certain area around one of the exits for guards to walk past and go towards another area to patrol.

It's your cue to leave and you quickly do so, not the fastest by foot but it worked, you only hope that nobody saw you else you'd be in trouble and then the mayor would be upset and then the ministers when they heard one of their subjects decided to dare to go to the nocturnal faeries.

You take off the cloak once you're a good bit away from the village, you decide to flutter towards the edge of the forest for the rest of this small trip till you reach the edge of the forest, staring into the other side, it looks much darker and dangerous yet it's no time to go back now after planning for so long for this adventure of yours.

From what you've heard, nocturnal faeries are rather "scary" looking, sharp fangs, horns, scales and just overall roughness, that they're pretty mean although that's debatable since you've met plenty of mean diurnal faeries in your life but oh well, those were just rumours, you don't know what exactly to expect but at least it's one step closer to get friendly with them.

Aside from curiosity, you had another reason for this trip...

A while back, you overheard guards whispering amongst themselves, the trees surrounding the village are growing weaker and need a special kind of pollen to restore their strength but their problem was that the remedy lied within the territory of the nocturnal faeries and they're oh so stubborn to ask for help in that regard, instead, they tasked scholars to find an alternative solution.

If those trees die, everything around them does as well, your village is highly dependent on that but most importantly, the moon flowers on the meadow are of highest concern but what makes them special is that they have healing properties and that they bloom the strongest on the third full moon during the festival, without it, aiding the injured would take longer and finding a healer might end up being too late.

To you, the answer was obvious, to negotiate with the nocturnal faeries, asking for help and offering something in return, it couldn't be that bad... but then again, you've never met an actual nocturnal fae.

As night grows closer, you put on the cloak, trying to blend in, the forest seems so much darker compared to the ones in your territory, the tree leafs rustle in the wind and the owls sing their songs, it's hard to see without a light but if you lit up a light it could alarm the wrong type of creatures, so instead, you depend on the moonlight to guide you.

After walking for an hour, you spot a distant light emitted from a campfire but then you also heard... screeching and growling? you're not sure if you're hearing dangerous creatures or actual nocturnal faeries after all but nonetheless, it's an opportunity to see them up close.

You lower yourself and walk along the bushes to try to get closer till you're close enough to peek through the bushes and see what you've found.

Your eyes widen at the sight, real nocturnal faeries! But from the looks of it, soldiers.

Their masks are put aside and they're resting and talking, you hold in a gasp at the sight, such sharp fangs, piercing eyes with a slit shaped pupils, longer pointy ears and as you've heard, some indeed have scales and horns, the rumours about them looking more rough and predatory certainly wasn't a lie and yet... there was something ethereal about them.

To your confirmation, that growling and screeching is indeed just them talking, such an odd yet curious language, you thought.

You decide to stay hidden and keep observing, clearly, it's very important! You were just about to take out your journal but then you remember just how good of a hearing they have so perhaps alarming them wouldn't be so smart, writing can wait but... if their hearing is that good, what if they already are aware of your presence? No, that can't be, else they would've already noticed by now.

You have a clear goal in mind, observe, plan and negotiate (hopefully), after all, finding the remedy yourself and just taking it would be thievery, so you can't do that, you'd be punished and you aren't exactly fond of that.

You spot a fae much smaller and slimmer than the rest, his skin was a beautiful shade of pale, he had sharp fangs like the rest but his red piercing eyes truly captured your interest, his long hair flowing in the gentle night breeze.

Judging from the way the others interact with him, he seems to be someone highly important but it was difficult to really tell if they'd listen to reason were you to actually approach them, you could make nothing of their screeching.

They truly sounded and looked so different from the faeries you're surrounded by all the time yet you couldn't help but look at them in awe, you want to know more about them and get to know their lives and everything else.

Now stuck in a dilemma, you're sure that approaching them head on wouldn't be the smartest idea, they'd probably just shoo you back to your home but you somehow need to at least befriend one of them.

After some more observing, you internally sigh, it's no use to keep watching them so you slowly back away and try to get away without getting noticed.

Once you successfully get away, you continue to walk deeper into the woods in hopes of spotting the sister tree of the ones surrounding your village but that advantage is cut short very quickly.

One step and suddenly a rope snatches your ankle and pulls you up, dangling you upside down.

You did not expect this whatsoever and now you're stuck hanging upside down, also having made quite the noise with the amount of leaf rustling due to the trap.

Your hair is a mess, the skirt of your dress hanging down, revealing the shorts beneath them, your bag fell down alongside your cloak, letting you wings free and making you less hidden.

You curse inside, trying to figure out what to do now while you meekly tried reaching for the rope holding your leg, your wings flutter in frustration.

"first you're snooping around and now you're stuck dangling like freshly caught prey, I must say... I've never seen your kind venturing into our territory, alone nonetheless" a deep voice from behind suddenly speaks up.

You freeze, unable to look behind you but you can tell that it must be one of the soldiers you saw earlier.

"Such beautiful wings, diurnal faeries truly live up to their names, you look like a soft delicate flower, like something that doesn't belong here"

You feel a hand gently caressing your wing, you gasp and slap him with your wing, it was gentle and didn't harm him but it was enough to startle him and to tell him to stop.

After a moment of silence, he's in front of you and you're met with those piercing red eyes again that you saw earlier, he looks like he's thinking with a stern face.

"Tell me, who are you and what are you doing here?" he asks sternly, leaving no room to back away.

"I'm just here for help, I need something that can only be acquired here!" you say after composing yourself.

"and pray tell what it is you're looking for? Not often does your kind come here, nonetheless all alone like yourself, a bit naive if you ask me" he replied unimpressed.

You huff "I came here with a purpose, thank you very much..." you reply back a little sassy.

He keeps looking at you sternly, letting you know he won't help you if you don't tell your intentions first, very clearly as well.

"Okay look... my village has these special trees with magic and they're growing weaker... there's a certain type of pollen that can make it strong again but the problem is, the sister tree carrying that pollen grows here, in your forest, nowhere else and those trees are super important to us..." you explain and the sigh, talking while hanging upside sure is exhausting.

He hums and then just looks smug "I see how it is, we have a little thief here"

You gasp frustrated "I'm not stealing! I'm here to negotiate with your kind! I was hoping to talk with any of you, get friendly and well, get the pollen since the higher ups refuse too!"

He looks contemplative before responding "I truly don't know if you're naive or actually brave for coming here but let me be clear, you can't just waltz over here, expecting to simply 'talk it out' with the first faerie you see, not to mention, we aren't on friendly terms"

You look a little defeated but still keep your composure "...at least please let me down?"

He sighs and cuts the rope, making you fall down with a groan, slowly getting up and reaching for you bag and cloak.

He watches you gathering yourself and evening out the skirt of your dress and removing a few leafs from your hair before looking at him.

"Look, in case you didn't realise, we're in the middle of a war with the Silver Owls, we don't have time for something like this, we're busy protecting our lands, including yours, so you better fly back home and stay out of danger, let the higher ups handle it" he replies while looking around, listening to his surroundings.

You look frustrated but quickly keep shut once he looks at you sternly once again.

He sighs and looks less serious "I've been gone long enough from the camp, it won't be long till someone comes looking for me, you're lucky you came across me, you should better hurry back home before anything dangerous can happen, I can't protect you just because you decided to have a little adventure here, I have my duties to attend to"

You put on your cloak and bag but before you can go, the nocturnal fae calls out to you again.

"the name's Lilia Vanrouge, general Lilia Vanrouge, in case we cross paths again, little lady"

Clearly he knows just as well as you, that this won't be the last encounter.

Once you reach your home without alarming the guards, you sigh, sitting down on your bed, thinking about your encounter with Lilia, it was a rocky start but you know you'll have to come back.

Nonetheless, you start writing down on your journal, everything you found out so far, but you must admit, despite their rough and predatory features, they are quite handsome.

You smile and put the journal away, getting ready for bed for another day of planning the next move.

"You're finally back, general, was it a Silver Owl?" Baur asks once he sees Lilia return.

"No, just a lost deer, nothing to worry about" he dismisses, before heading to his tent, the feeling of your wings still lingering on his mind.

[daylighted]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤshield ! reader ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤㅤpart two !!

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤULTIMATE REVENGE.

summary memories are reawakened with the arrival of soldier boy into your life again, but his presence is not the only new thing slipping its way through the cracksㅤㅤㅤwarnings feminine rage, light discussions of trauma, violence against men HAHAHA, me trying to mimic butcher's accent ( embarrassing edition )ㅤㅤㅤword count 2.1k

ㅤㅤㅤ"ARE YOU SERIOUSLY ANGRY WITH ME?" it was a ridiculous question to be asked, considering all that happened, but you'd let him talk. how deep of a hole could one man dig himself into?

you don’t dignify him with any answer. of course you were angry. it had been festering since you were created, switched between homes like a rejected foster child that no one really wanted, but got stuck with. it was bad enough knowing that the entirety of your long existence would be spent being a pest to the ones stuck with you; they did not need to find ways to torment you.

you shove the closet door open with your shoulder, having waited in the closet until soldier boy vanished. he didn’t deserve any of your attention, and didn’t deserve any indication that you knew him. that was another irritant to your fury.

“i told you to stay in your space.” it’s the only defense that the legend has, so he milks it, stresses the points of it as if that can deter your frustrations. “i told you that this is the risk i was keeping you from, dammit—”

the legend doesn’t have to get it, and so he never will. still, you can’t help but feel the need to try. “you knew it was a risk,” you say it slower, as if that will make it click in his rotten head, “and you did not tell me. you knew that soldier boy was alive, and could come back, and kept it.”

“look at how you’re reacting!” his hand shoots up toward you, hovering in the expansive closet’s entrance. “you decked him. you crushed his nutsack—”

“not. enough.”

“plenty enough, indy.” your name is always a weapon in men’s mouths. no one ever looked at you and thought you were something worth whispering or promising. you were a gun, your words the bullets, the safety always off. and nobody wanted a girl in a constant state of misfire. “i get what you’re going through, and what is going on inside of your head—”

“you do not.”

his lips thin in his frustration. “are you going to let me finish a single fuckin’ sentence today, indy, or are we going to argue around each other because you don’t listen?”

your jaw clenches tightly, teeth grinding together. “you do not get anything that is in my head. you are just an old man minus a leg.”

“you are old too,” he shoots back at you, wagging his finger in your face. you shove his hand away with a scoff. “just because little miss indestructible doesn’t physically age doesn’t mean she hasn’t been here as long as i have. so you should know better than to act like an insolent child.”

it’s so easy for a man to flip the script on you and blame you. you were not asked for permission before you were created. you were not ever treated kindly in the tests you endured after it. you were shaped and molded into something as strong as you’d been as a manmade shield, and then punished for what evolved from that.

“i would know better if i was not locked away.”

somehow, his thin lips press together tighter. you’ve got him. you always get him on that point, and still, the legend doesn’t ever listen to you. it was so useless to have a voice when it did nothing for you.

the bell to his door rings, and your head snaps in that direction. you can see the front door now, from where you stand — considering the fact you’d broken down the hinges to that side of the penthouse, and soldier boy had dismantled your door.

multiple shadows stand on the other side. you see their outlines, big and broad, through the glass walls surrounding the doorway. your eyes narrow. “soldier boy has brought guests.”

“i hardly doubt he will come back.” the legend steps around you, back into the living room, with a glance over his shoulder. “i’d highly suggest sitting this one out.”

“you cannot keep me away anymore today.” you stalk after him, following him again through the broken mess of doors scattered around his living space. “the door is ruined. you have to let me see.”

“i don't have to do a thing.”

he never listens to you. you’ve been stuck with him for forty years and he does not listen. he’s the cruelest sort of captor, controlling everything of your life down to the rooms you’re allowed to take up space in.

you shove past the legend, grabbing the doorknob before he can, tugging the locked, heavy door open with an agitated growl. “go away. you are not wanted here.”

the man in the center on the other side raises his eyebrows. “sassy lass, ain’t ya?” he has an accent, just like you, except his is much more pronounced and nothing like how yours sounds. “i didn’t know the legend kept around girls that can beat him in a tongue lashin’.”

sickening how every single man you’d had the displeasure of meeting assumed you were one of the legend’s playthings. this was the consequence of his containment. you faced the scrutiny of his choices.

you dash forward, grabbing the gun he had poorly concealed at his hip. you release the safety and step back before any of his crew can process the barrel of the pistol pressed against the center of his chest. “mind your mouth.”

his hands raise in mock surrender. “alright, love. i don’t think we should be playing with things we don’t know how to—”

you’d known how to shoot a gun since you learned how to grip. you cock a bullet into the chamber and point it backwards, pulling the trigger at the two feet distance between the legend’s cane and your own feet.

the tall, lankier man in the back of the group shudders out an, “oh my god.” the one next to their assumed leader grimaces at the ringing echo of the bullet. behind you, the legend is seething, hissed curses falling out of his spluttering mouth.

you press the warm barrel to the man’s chest again. “tell me i am too stupid to work a gun again.”

the corner of his mouth tilts higher. “my apologies, lass,” he says, raising his eyes from your face to behind you. “might i speak to the man of the hour?”

“he has nothing worthy to say,” you say, finally dropping the hand holding the gun to your side, “not unless you like idiocracy and long-winded tall tales.”

the man shrugs. "i'm afraid that's all this lot has got to offer, anyways, yeah?"

you don't give the gun back. you untuck your shirt from your pants and stuff it in the waistband, offering a smile to the group of men waiting outside. "i can tell," you hum, turning on your heel, walking back the way you came from.

the basketball game is still on, but it's wrapping up — as far as you can tell, anyways, through the giant black hole in the center of the screen. you weren't in any sort of mood to get in another argument about the channel after what you'd gone through, so you drop down onto the couch again with only a huff of protest.

expectedly, the men follow afterwards. expectedly, the legend is apologizing on your behalf to men that don't deserve it, using words you'd never use. she's really sorry. no you weren't. she's always been crueler than the other of vought's creations. the familiar sentence, still stings all the same.

"she's a supe, then?" the lanky one asks, like you aren't even there. he catches your eye when you turn to glare holes into his temple, and his face flushes a little. "you're a supe?"

your face twists up. "i hate soup."

"oh." he nods a couple of times, clearing his throat in the process. "well. that answers... nothing."

the irritable, disgusted scowl becomes one more laced with anger. "i am not one of the heroes." the legend's reaction is proof enough to an unanswered question you had. that, no, before soldier boy's departure, he did not inform the hero of who you really were, and he was dancing around it now. you'll spare him from the science lesson. "i was created in laboratory. by the vought man." he's never been doctor frederick vought to you, because he never acted as a doctor, only an enforcer. "a someone out of something."

the lankier of the men blinks his surprise, somehow not deterred even with the look you gave him before. "created how?"

no one has ever addressed you in these conversations. usually legend apologizes for you, and they talk about you like you don't exist, and you are expected to stand down even when the order is not enforced. a long silence passes before you speak, unwilling to answer if he was not genuinely asking. but his eyes don't stray from you, and so you nod slowly in acceptance.

"you know of soldier boy?" his name is poison in your mouth, the only thing that has ever hurt you. "the great american hero with a shield?" there is no point of you explaining the world's first hero to these people. they probably know more about him than you ever would. "i am the shield."

the original man, the one with a smirk permanently plastered across his face, turns to you, then, abandoning whatever plans he'd come with. "bullshit."

"you are bullshit." you don't need any of them to believe you. trying to convince others of what you knew to be true was pointless. you slump backwards against the couch again, your eyes zeroing in on the shattered television screen.

it's the lanky one that comes to sit next to you. the legend doesn't even sit as close to you as he does, and he'd lived with you for forty years. "vought does some crazy shit." his shoulders lift in a shrug, letting out a little hum. "doesn't seem so off base that they turn a shield into a girl."

"the shield is with him," you clarify, finding it hard to actually meet his eyes whenever he's watching you with more understanding than anyone had bothered to offer. he wears the same curiosity that you saw in soldier boy's, which simply wouldn't do. "it is just useless now."

"does he know?" the original man, his rugged voice giving way to its own sort of morbid curiosity. there are too many men around you, and not enough space for you to feel safe and secure.

you shake your head, shooting a pointed look at the legend, balking on the other side of the room. "he did not tell him."

"ben is not going to be doing anything with that shield to warrant knowing its truth—"

frustration pours out of every orifice of your body. "soldier boy is a ticking bomb." he has always been volatile. a man cannot change simply because the man was locked away for decades. from what you saw of him, there wasn't any ounce of growth from him at all.

"she's right." the man sitting beside you turns to look back at the legend, and for once, you feel seen. someone else sees the hypocrisy of the man you were stuck with and is not afraid to reflect it back at him. maybe the legend would listen this time, now that a man was telling all of his sins to the choir. "he's a ticking time bomb."

"don't start, hughie," the rugged brit says, his voice nothing more than a growl.

"no, she's right." he gives butcher a long, hard look before he shakes his head, glancing sidelong at legend. "you know what we're planning to do. you know that we're trying to use him for it. and you sent him into the world to die."

the confirmation makes your stomach feel leaden. you should not care at all about what that means. you shouldn't care that soldier boy could die. and you don't. it's just—

"and what do you want me to do about that now, huh?"

the room is quiet, the only sound being the distorted audio coming from the broken television. you know where this is going. you sense it in the way that the man that isn't hughie stares at you, piecing together everything that the options laid out for them offered.

hope was a bitter thing in your mouth. this could be your sole chance of freedom, finally getting to see a breath of the world you'd spent your entire life locked away from. it just came with the added downside of—

"hand over soldier boy's shield," the man finally says, his eyes never leaving yours, "promise with every inch of my wee heart we'll take good care of 'er."

notes. indy beat up all men ever era !!! billy butcher EAT UR HEART OUT. just a heads up that this !reader has a structured timeline vs baby & lore not <3 u can still send asks abt her if u wanna but in my head this lil lady is all plotted for ... i dont wanna say it in case i abandon it midway ... so just know there's a proper number of parts oKAYYY thank u 4 reading love u bye

tags. @titsout4jackles @deansbeer @honeyryewhiskey @ultravi0lence14 @figthoughts @stereotypicalbarbie @whyyouegg @eepwtf @rositaslabyrinth @rubyvhs @jensenacklesballsack @abox-of-rocks @sunsbaby @bluemerakis @jollyhunter @misatxox @angelblqde @bombarda-babe @unfortunate-brat @funkycoloured @chevroletdean @chiierful @cowboysandcigarettes @voidsuites @bitchykittenconnoisseur @beausling @soldiersgirl @dulcescorderitas @hyacinnths @blushpinkdoll @mccartneyqp @svbnra @h8aaz @mahi-wayy

[astrophileous]

Hmmmmm for Hotch maybe him lowkey coddling reader when she gets hurt shortly during a case shortly after they start dating? Maybe the team wasn’t aware until they saw him fret this much when he had never done it to this level in the past? 🥹

Thanks for the request babes!! My first Aaron fic ever, so hopefully it's not too bad for a first 🥺 I hope this is to your liking ❤️

Warning(s): gn!reader, established relationship, talks of traffic accident, mentions of injuries, protective hotch, mean words (hotch is just worried abt you ok??)

This blurb was written as a part of the "Zara's Birthday Bash and Road to 1K" celebration.

Zara's Birthday Bash and Road to 1K Masterlist / Criminal Minds Masterlist

You heard him before you even laid eyes upon him.

Amidst the beeping machines and the moderate ruckus of the emergency room, Aaron's voice penetrated the air like a sword. The authority dripped like lava from his tone as he badgered Derek for your whereabouts, and before you could shuffle out of the hospital bed that had been your safe haven for the past hour, the cubical curtain surrounding you was suddenly yanked open.

Your movements ceased once you locked eyes with a frowning Aaron Hotchner.

"Hey—"

"Are you insane?"

You looked at him dumbfoundedly.

"Do you have a death wish? Is that it? Or are you just stupid?"

A few feet behind him, you could see Derek and Emily exchanging silent looks between the two of them. Everyone knew that Aaron was notorious for being frigid, and he had a strong impartiality when it came to any of his team members doing something impetuous on the field, but the words seeping out of Aaron's mouth at that moment sounded overtly harsh to those who knew him.

"Hotch—" Derek took a step forward, trying to come to your defense, "—it's not (Y/N)'s fault."

"I'm not talking to you." Aaron's response was cutting and final. It baffled Derek enough for him to trace his step back.

"What's wrong with you?" you asked once the shock dissipated, returning your voice to its rightful owner once more. "Why are you being like this?"

"Me? You're asking me? I should be the one asking you."

Your eyebrows pulled together in confusion. "We were chasing the UnSub—"

"You went rogue," he cut you off. "Morgan told me everything. There's no point in denying it."

Derek raised his arms in surrender when your stare of betrayal slid his way. "Fine. I'm sorry I grabbed a random civilian's bike and crashed it against the UnSub's car. You don't have to worry about paying anything back, I'll figure something out."

"Is that what you think this is about?" Aaron pinched the bridge of his nose. "I could care less about monetary compensations. We can deal with that later. You could've been killed, don't you understand?"

It was his last admission that finally made the pieces in your head click into place. Beneath the anger inside Aaron's words was actually a hidden anxiety ready to break free. He was worried about you, even if he was showing it in the least hospitable way possible.

Your relationship with Aaron was young; green around the edges and blooming every single day like tulips in spring. Nobody else in the world knew about it yet, and the two of you wanted to keep it that way. At least, that was what you agreed upon after having that lengthy discussion following your first official date.

And yet, none of that mattered when your fingers opted to reach out for Aaron's hand. You pretended not to notice the gasp that Emily let out as you urged your boyfriend to look into your eyes.

"I know you're worried, but I'm fine. I'm right here with you, and I'm okay." Aaron's shoulders physically collapsed at your reassurance. Every other noise in the hospital seemed to drown out in the aftermath. "The doctor's gonna clear me in no time, trust me."

"It still doesn't erase the fact that what you did was reckless." Aaron stepped closer towards the bed, overcrowding your senses as his thumb swept over your left eyebrow, just below the wound you had obtained from the crash. "Does it hurt?"

You shook your head no. The injury to your head was relatively minor. Your arm, on the other hand, was sustaining a quite sizable gash from your collision with the car.

Aaron's eyes followed your gaze that had meandered towards the gauze covering your arm. "How many stitches?"

Reluctantly, you answered, "Seven."

You heard his sharp breath before he turned around to face Derek. "Where's the UnSub now?"

Derek jerked his head to the right, where you reckoned the UnSub was being treated for their own injuries from the crash. The words of protest died in your throat as Aaron began to saunter to the other end of the ER with Derek hot on his heels.

With the two men's departure, Emily was the only one who remained.

"So—" she smiled knowingly, leaning against the foot of your bed, "—you and Hotch? When did that happen?"

You slammed your head back on the pillow, muffling your groan with your uninjured arm. "Shut up."

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

I came back from the movie theaters (Fnaf Movie) My lord I FREAKING LOVED IT THE WHOLE THING IDC AHHH Ahem-

I saw that requests are open, SO a Platonic Headcanon Request if you don't mind, Fnaf (Movie) Animatronics with Gender-Neutral (17-soon to be 18) Reader as the new security guard? or maybe tags with Mike and possibly Abby? (Reader ain't tall just-idk 5'2 maybe I am projecting-)

(I know this request doesn't make sense because of the tiredness due to staying up late because of excitement. Feel free to delete this ask if its too complicated)

bonus: If you want to, You can also Include Chica's Cupcake

Have a nice day/night, From 📞 ☕ (PhoneCoffee) Anon

Oh I can definitely work with this ^^

......

When you started working at Freddy's overnight, you hoped this would be your last summer job ever before you turned 18.

"Steve" said it was all pretty straightforward: watch the cameras and make sure nobody broke in.

Easy as pizza pie, right?

Well, when you realized one of the animatronics very subtly moved from their usual spot, you wanted to check them out for yourself.

Plus, sitting in the office for six hours every night would def get boring as hell.

So you head to the main stage area, finding the whole gang mysteriously gone--Foxy included.

Then you get surprised by them emerging from different places in the pizzeria, eyes glowing a sinister yellow as they surround you, wary of your intentions.

"O-Oh hey..um..Fazgang?" You try your best not to look so terrified.

Surely someone was controlling them, right? They couldn't possibly hurt you.

Yet they stop and collectively realize "wait, isn't this a teenager? And why are they working this job??"

But since you're not wrecking anything in the pizzeria (or screaming bloody murder unlike the last guard), they spare you and are just very chill overall.

You now start to believe all the rumors of them being haunted by little children.....although not even that scares you.

On the second night, you learn that they can understand simple drawings--and that's how you pretty much communicate with them and build up trust.

While Bonnie is regarded as the "most aggressive", he was a real sweetheart who let you shine his guitar and hugged you tightly to express his thanks.

Alas you haven't found a way to stop it from constantly short-circuiting when he strums it...but you vow to figure something out.

Chica was equally as sweet, although for some reason Carl the Cupcake made you feel nervous.

The way he can be on the plate one moment and then disappear the next makes you worried that he'll sneak up on you and bite your ankles off.

But as long as Chica's around, that won't ever happen.

Although Foxy looks quite dangerous, you try your best to patch up the hole in his chest using some spare parts from backstage while being oblivious to the deadly Freddy mask saw trap in the corner, something he's grateful for.

He even sang you a little sea shanty as thanks!

Freddy was the first to be suspicious of you, but after seeing a drawing you made of him, he grows to like your presence, too. Especially after how nice you've been to his bandmates.

So you definitely survived more than five nights at this place--longer than anyone so far.

When Mike gets hired and comes in for his first shift with you, he's surprised that a teen is training him.

He suspects this was some lousy summer job you were forced to get and thinks you're gonna act miserable the entire time you work together and not actually teach him shit.

But as it turns out, you love your job!

You show him the Fazgang during their "showtime" performance and assure him that while they may look creepy, they're not bad at all.

And while you're not getting paid extra to do simple maintenance on them, you still enjoy trying to keep them in tip-top shape (especially Foxy, who needs repairs the most).

Mike seriously thinks you shouldn't be doing that as it's not in the job description AND it could be dangerous.

Even if you have expertise in robotics, he still thinks it's not worth losing a limb or finger to those complex contraptions.

Like he almost did after getting near a springlock suit.

But you just teasingly remind him who the trainer is..and he goes quiet.

Foxy overhears this, and you see him snickering from behind the Pirate's Cove curtain, amused by you basically schooling this 25-27 year old man.

Unfortunately he startled poor Mike, who looks over quickly.....only to find the fox standing in his usual position, acting completely normal.

"Was he just laughing at us...?"

"Nope." You play dumb, shrugging. "Must be his voice box malfunctioning....c'mon. Let's see if we can fix that."

Least to say, you're not gonna let him sleep on the job anytime soon.

[fernsplace]

EDGE OF TOWN! *ೃ༄

summary: you wander to your favorite part of town. where it's just you and the trees. but today, you have a visitor. word ct: 841 content: soft!sam notes: this is the third chapter of my series, PREACHER'S DAUGHTER!

─ ˙༺ ♱ ༻

< CHAPTER TWO | CHAPTER FOUR >

the following saturday, you ride your bike until the road turns to gravel. the wheels hum beneath you, kicking up dust. it's dusk. your favorite time of day. the sky is shifting into light pinks and purples, resembling stained glass. your lungs stretch with every breath of air. it's warm, but it's cooling off. you're almost there.

the weeping willow sits at the far edge of town, past the abandoned silo and the classic red barn whose roof is caving in. a stream runs parallel to the road through the woods. nobody comes over this way anymore. but you do.

the long leaves hang low to the ground like curtains, surrounding the base of the trunk. inside their cover is quiet. in a sense, you feel holiest here. here, you escape judgement. the tree makes you feel small. much greater than you.

you lean your bike in the grass and take a seat at the base. crosslegged. you pull an old sketchpad out of your bag, fingers immediately stained by charcoal dust.

you don’t know what you’re drawing until your hand starts moving. that's how it always works. allowing you hand to slide across the paper freely.

you trace the curve of a nose, the sharp angle of a jaw. a figure bent forward, not quite visible, face shadowed. you don’t give him a name. but you feel who it is on the page.

you're almost done with the outline when a voice cuts through the leaves.

“you always draw in secret?”

your head snaps up.

sam.

he stands just outside the willow’s veil, like he needs permission to enter. his arms are crossed, his tshirt falls just above his jeans, and there’s a smear of dirt on one forearm. you see a few drips of sweat on his brow. he looks like he’s been walking for a while.

your breath hitches. “how'd you find me?”

he raises both hands in defense, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “saw you come in, didn’t know it was you. i was just… walking.”

“through an abandoned part of town?"

he shrugs. “heard water. saw some cool buildings. figured it was worth a look.”

you should tell him to leave. the familiar feeling gnaws at your gut. but you do nothing about it. you feel suddenly aware. of his presence, of his voice.

you don't say anything in response. maybe he'd leave on his own, feeling bad for bothering you. that way, you wouldn't feel dirty when you returned home. of course, they wouldn't know that you'd been speaking to the boy who'd walked out of church, but you could imagine your father's eyes. he'd know. he always did. and he forbade you from lying.

sam steps forward, slow, careful not to cross any invisible lines. the leaves brush softly over his head as he enters. "can i see?” he nods toward your sketchbook.

you hesitate. then tilt the page toward him, just a little.

his eyes linger on the lines. “that’s good.”

you raise an eyebrow. “you sound surprised.”

he laughs under his breath. “i’m not. just didn’t expect to find someone drawing under a tree like it’s a corny romcom.”

your face flushes. “didn’t expect someone to sneak up on me like a horror film.”

he grins, giving a small nod. “fair enough.”

there’s a pause. he walks closer. ever so slowly, as if not to scare you away. not like a predator waiting to catch its prey, but like he's watching a small animal from afar.

you glance at him. he’s not looking at the sketchpad anymore.

“do you come out here a lot?” he asks.

you nod. “sometimes. it’s quiet. nice to get away from everyone.” you're sharing more than you would like, seemingly abandoning your rule of giving as little detail as possible.

he hums. “i'm not a fan of crowds either.”

you don’t tell him that it’s not the crowds you’re avoiding—hell, there's now crowds in a town like this, but it’s the church. the way people stare too long at your clothes, eyes flickering to your necklace. on a good day, the townspeople were as friendly as they come. on bad day, their holy tongues dripped with condemnation.

they call you pure like it’s the greatest compliment, but you never quite knew what it meant to be pure. and you're not sure you felt it.

sam walks a little closer. still doesn’t sit.

“do you draw people often?”

you shake your head, you can't help the soft pink that rushing to your cheeks. “'m more into landscapes.”

he catches that. tilts his head. “so who’s this?”

you pause.

“no one,” you say. “not really.”

he looks at you for a beat too long. “okay.”

he doesn’t ask more questions. just sinks down into the grass across from you. his legs are outstretched on the grass, arms propped behind him. he's taking up space. unapologetically.

you press your charcoal to the page again. try to ignore the way he watches your hands.

he doesn’t talk much after that. just sits. he listens to the wind and looks up through the leaves. for a while you two sit there. until it's time for you to get back home for dinner.

you mutter a soft "goodbye, sam," and leave him there beneath the tree.

─ ˙༺ ♱ ༻

if you'd like to be added to my taglist let me know! don't be shy!

taglist: @ambiguous-avery . @iamaslytherin0 . @zenoxl

[bones4thecats]

➸ Their S/O Is A Singer; Twisted Wonder.

Character: Azul Ashengrotto and Jamil Viper (separate) A/N: <3<3<3<3 Disclaimer(s): Nothing bad, just fluffy singing

╔══════════════════════════════════════════╗

╚═════ Azul Ashengrotto ═════════════════════════╝

🐙 As Azul wrote a new document, he heard something coming from the Lounge. It couldn't be Jade of Floyd, they were perfectly silent whenever they cleaned up. That and they were feeling ill earlier, probably those damn mushrooms that Jade got and they ate...

🐙 The Housewarden of Octavinelle stood, putting his quill back inside the ink as he walked out to find the location of the melody

🐙 He walked around, looking in every nook-and-cranny he came upon, only to come up empty-handed. This was quite odd, if it was a ghost by chance, what ghost sings? Unless they were a siren, which would be highly unlikely, as their kind was practically a myth for the peaceful mer-people of their time

🐙 Azul finally came upon the main room. He noticed the surroundings, all tables and chairs in place, all other decorations of utensils placed in their respective spots for later that morning when Mostro Lounge opened, but what he noticed first wasn't an object

🐙 He noticed you first

🐙 You stood there, cleaning a nearby table off with a happy tune falling from your lips. It was mesmerizing, he's heard some very talented singers in his years, but nobody matched your vocals, not by a long-shot

🐙 As you swayed around, eyes closed and unknowing to him standing there, he recounted each word you sang and put it into his mind for memories he could look back on happily

🐙 Azul smiled gently and cross his arms, watching him with a happy figure, singing away and with your voice just flowing out like a mermaid's would when singing to their newborn child. Like how his mother used to sing to him whenever he was upset

"I can't promise picket fences. Or sunny afternoons. But, at night when I close my eyes."

🐙 He has heard this song playing on a playlist you had made him. It was full of many romantic, slow, and sweet songs to keep him calm while he worked. And as you had your back to him, he silently walked up behind you and began singing his own verse in the song

"I see us in black and white. Crystal clear on a starlit night. There'll never be another. I promise that I'll love ya."

"I see us in black and white. Crystal clear on a starlit night. In all your gorgeous colors. I promise that I'll love you for the rest of my life. See you standin' in your dress. Swear in front of all our friends. There'll never be another. I promise that I'll love you for the rest of my life." You sang together.

🐙 As you looked at one another, you wrapped your arms around his neck, making him smile as you finished your duet together...

"And there'll never be another. I promise that I'll love you for the rest of my life..."

🐙 ...before sealing the song with a loving kiss

╔══════════════════════════════════════════╗

╚═════ Jamil Viper ════════════════════════════╝

🐍 You hummed as you finished dressing yourself after your shower. Helping out Jamil today was harder than you expected, but you did prevent Kalim from celebrating getting an A on his test, so there's something

🐍 Jamil had finally made sure Kalim was laying down and sleeping when he came to his room. You were staying the night in his, since your dorm, Pomefiore, was currently having some issues with flooding (thanks to Epel running away and crashing into a pipe)

🐍 He had just made it to his door when he heard your voice coming through like a flute. It was gorgeous. He's heard some amazing singers, but nobody could compare to your voice

🐍 It sounded better than he could ever imagine. Of course, you hummed while you worked, but you never have gone full-singer on him before. But, he had to admit, he loved it so much right now

"Broken with bruises, I don't wanna screw this up. And lord knows I'm jealous. Of how she looks at me like that. If only I could see it too."

🐍 He frowned sadly, this song was about somebody feeling like they were nothing compared to how they could be. It reminded him of how he felt about you on the daily. He's caused so many issues, yet you always stayed with him, despite the obvious better choices around you both

🐍 Jamil took a deep breath and walked inside, taking his Scarabia vest off and laying it down as he begun to hum alongside you before lying down. You weren't shocked, you heard his footsteps earlier and kept singing as you put on one of your boyfriend's many hoodies and laid beside him in bed, slowly taking out his braids and massaging his scalp

"Is it a sin? To love someone who loves another man. If it is then I repent. 'Cause I don't know the man that she claims I am. I could never be as good as him. But I love her more than anything. Don't know why she'd ever fall for me. She says that I'm the only one she'll ever love. But when I'm looking into her eyes. I swear that there's a better guy..."

🐍 Looking down at your boyfriend, you smiled, his eyes closed as you leaned down and kissed his forehead before resting your eyes yourself

"I love you so much, Jamil..."