#I don't know HOW these two idiots because the main characters and pair in this AU | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

amoscontorta · 19 days

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Datura Tea, or how all you want is to get some sleep

You're suffering from insomnia due to untreated PTSD (probably, I don't know, I'm not a doctor or a therapist) from your family getting, well, exploded, and the longer this goes on, the sloppier you become in combat and just existing, and a bad idea is born (let's go to the club alone, drink enough to finally get drowsy and then go home and finaaaaally sleep it off). Zayne treats some of your injuries, Mephisto does Sylus's stalker bidding, and guess who appears at the club right before you're about to probably violate the Hunter's Association code of conduct on an idiot who has a hard time taking no for an answer? Spoiler alert: he can't sing but he can dance, even if he chooses to dance to the music he'd rather be hearing than the music actually being played.

Second person POV, gender neutral MC/reader second person POV, a teeny tiny bit of Sylus POV at the end CWs: insomnia, trauma, grievous bodily injury, hospital environment, shots/needles/stitches, self-destructive behavior, MC may have issues regarding self-worth, MC refuses to get proper treatment, poor life choices, stalking (by Sylus), unwelcome boundary pushing by a non-main character, dubiously welcome boundary pushing (by Sylus), (irresponsible) alcohol use, everyone's thirsty for MC and MC is oblivious because this is a self-insert gacha game and no I will not be taking any criticism on this point at this time.

ao3 link here

Just as you had hoped before agreeing to Sylus’s deal that allows him to make use of your flat as a safe house if necessary, things have returned to normal. Well, as normal as they can be ever since your world was blown apart. It has been weeks, and you haven’t heard from him at all. At first, in the days following Sylus's little... visit, you sometimes find yourself thinking that you see a larger than normal crow amidst the swaying trees on your way home at twilight. Or you'll catch the reflection of two uncannily similar looking men in the shop window you just passed, but when you turn around, all you see is the blur of a faceless crowd.

You tell yourself that you're imagining things.

But then you stumble into your flat one night, wounded, again, but not so badly that you need to go to Akso Hospital, and stop short. You stand very still, clutching the hilt of one of the blades strapped to your back, and listen. Something feels off. Did you line your various pairs of footwear in a neat little row along the wall of your foyer recently? You can't remember doing so, but you've been doing a lot of things on autopilot recently. You wait, but nothing stirs in the gloom of your place as the automatic light shuts off due to how still you're standing.

Nothing. Just silence, and an aching feeling of absence that you refuse to think about too hard.

You tell yourself that you're imagining things.

Nothing. Just silence, and an aching feeling of absence that you refuse to think about too hard.

Just as you had hoped. Of course. Although you don’t know him well, you learned enough during the few days by his side to know that Sylus’s moods and interest were mercurial at best. You knew from the moment that Kieran and Luke offered you advice from a psychology book about how people who have everything often need constant challenges and the unobtainable dangled in front of them to keep their interest: Sylus would soon become bored with whatever game he thought he was playing with you, and your life would return to its peaceful… new-normal. And that’s good. That’s what you want. You are not equipped to handle a presence like him in your life. You’re a law-abiding, predictable, simple hunter, just trying not to leave the world worse than you found it, one day at a time. You shake your head, and hang your weapons on the wall rack, next to the coat hooks, and unlace your boots, relieve yourself of your blood-soaked pants and ripped shirt, and step into your flat wearing nothing but your underwear. Free, at last. You turn to head to your fridge for a pack of something frozen to place on the bruises that are only just beginning to bloom along the side of your face, only to freeze yourself, again. Your heart kicks wildly in your chest as you take in the looming mass in the middle of your kitchen, before you realize--

On your kitchen island stands a huge black and red pot, filled with a riot of white flowers, their edges ringed with a faint lavender color. You hesitantly reach out and run your finger along the deadly looking little points dotted along the petals' edges. You don't know shit about flowers, but these look threatening, somehow, in their savage beauty.

Maybe this is a prank. As your partner and closest neighbor, Xavier has access to your place. And Tara has your spare key, since Xavier is out of town so often on his little secretive, certainly not having anything to do with Lumiere escapades. Maybe this is their idea of cheering you up?

But you're not convinced. These flowers look like a warning. You quickly try to summon a list of people who might want to make you uncomfortable, or even frighten you, enemies you've made or hell, beaten at the claw machine? But no one comes to mind. Sylus had said that Sherman wasn't acting alone when... well. He wasn't acting alone, so maybe these flowers come from them, trying to tell you that they'll eventually finish the job. But if they knew where you were, and still wanted to take you out, they could have left a ... bomb instead of a pot of frighteningly gorgeous plants to accomplish their goal. You shudder.

There's no card. No message. Just the cryptic message of the flowers themselves. For fuck's sake, you're tired. Something about the flowers makes you paranoid, so you carefully run your hands through the leaves and stems to see if there is some sort of hidden surveillance equipment, but you fail to find anything. Giving up, you lift the heavy pot with a grunt and place it on your indoor balcony, shutting the door. Now if there is some sort of camera or audio recording device, all they'll see is your hazy outline through your glass balcony door. You can't help yourself: you make a rude gesture at the door, just in case there really is a hidden camera in there. You finish your trek to the freezer, slap a bag of something frozen past its due date onto your face, and spend the rest of the night tossing and turning in your bed before another dawn rises.

As the days turn into weeks, and another day has passed where you're wincing as you open your front door, worried that he'll be on the other side, only to find it empty, with none of your clutter undisturbed, you finally decide to put Sylus out of your mind for good. He helped you when you needed it the most, and you repaid his dubious generosity when you patched him up at your place. So you push the thought of him down deep, down with all of the other things you can’t bear to think about these days, and life goes on. You water the mystery flowers from time to time, at the same time you water the rest of your plants, and resign yourself to not figuring out who sent them anytime soon.

You can’t sleep, again.

You’ve been trying it all: running on the treadmill until you’re on the brink of vomiting, the harsh lights of the deserted Hunter’s Association fitness center making you squint. All you’ve gotten for your efforts is a headache threatening to add itself to your list of complaints at midnight, 2 AM, 3 AM, 4 AM, until you’re still awake and your morning alarm is sounding from your hunter’s watch.

Squeezing in extra full body supersets with the kettlebell, sweat pouring down your back, soaking through the hair at your temples and dripping onto the mats. Your muscles are not getting any stronger, and you’re sure as hell getting more fatigued, but the sleep won’t come as you limp into your bedroom every night.

Camomile tea with honey, warm milk, cold milk, rooibos tea without honey, fennel tea (you gag a little, and decide that you’re absolutely done trusting Moments recommendations when it comes to tea that aids sleep) before slipping under your tangled duvet, only to have to get up to pee an hour later, with no drowsiness in sight.

Every time you try to meditate and take deep, calming breaths, the memories come. And you can’t. You can’t. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

Once, you even ask Zayne if he can prescribe you something to help.

"No."

"No? You haven't even asked what I'm asking for help with!"

"No."

You look down at your boots, wondering how far your pride will allow you to push him. You don't really want to tell him, exposing all of your messy insides and issues for him to clinically judge, to file away under this diagnosis or that and dismiss as he moves on to the next patient, for him to see you at your absolute lowest when you've never even seen him break a sweat. Something about that idea makes you want to cry.

"Ok." You smile brightly, or at least try. It probably comes across as more of a grimace, but you are trying. "I'll get going, sorry to bother you!" you chirp, and then cringe internally. Why did you apologize? He's your doctor, if you can't even handle asking him for help with this, even if he says no, you might as well switch physicians. It's fine. This is fine. You are fine.

You're about to turn the handle of his office door when his even voice stops you from behind. "What you need isn't pharmaceuticals. It's therapy. You need to talk to—"

But you can't. Talk. You can't imagine thinking the thoughts, let alone getting the words out. You can't, not yet.

"It's just sleep, Doctor Zayne. I'll just drink some fennel tea," you lie, give him a little salute, and escape.

So now you’re on the brink of doing something you’d previously rather have had your teeth pulled than experience: going to a crowded club, getting shit-faced, and hoping the dancing and alcohol will knock you out for a solid 24 hours. But Tara has already turned down your invitation, putting her hand on yours and saying with excruciating gentleness that she doesn’t think that’s what you need right now, which you can’t stand—the kindness, the knowing looks, the unspoken questions from everyone in your life who knows what happened, and are watching you like a ticking time—

Bomb.

You shake your head. You can’t.

And Xavier has been out of the office a lot lately, and from the mail piling up on his foyer floor whenever you nosily peek through his mail slot, probably out of town as well. So he’s not an option to invite after Tara turns you down.

You already know that Rafayel is out of the country on an exhibition tour, so you don’t even bother calling him. Talking to him usually does cheer you up, but you don’t need to be cheered up, dammit, you need to sleep.

You don’t even consider Zayne. First, he's your doctor and probably thinks spending time with you outside of the hospital would feel like a punishment for the sins of a past life. Also, imagining him, neon lights of a cheesy nightclub reflected off of his elegant glasses, indignantly pressed on all sides by unwashed, sweaty bodies, dancing—your brain short circuits even trying to imagine it.

There’s no one else you would trust being drunk around who you can ask to go with you. But the idea of getting drunk, alone, in your silent flat, makes you want to gag worse than the fennel tea.

As you slip on a comfortable pair of tights under a stretchy pair of shorts, and a soft, loose top—off the shoulder so that you look like you made some effort (you refuse to wear anything that can’t also double as athletic wear, because who the hell knows when you’ll get an alert on your watch), you tell yourself that you’ll be fine. You’ll drink enough to get tipsy, enough to make you drowsy, you’ll wear yourself out on the dance floor, and then you’ll go home again. And sleep. You don’t need anyone else for this. Of course it would be nice to be able to let off steam with a friend, but these same friends have been walking on eggshells around you for months, so it’s probably better this way. No awkwardness, no judgment, no gentle attempts to convince you that you need—

You’ve just slipped your boots on when you hunter’s watch goes off. A wanderer is within minutes of your flat’s location. You gaze at your weapon rack, which hangs next to your coat rack in your foyer, and hesitate. These days, you grit your teeth at the sound of gunshots at the practice range, loud in your ears even through your noise cancelling headset. Still too loud. Still too much like a bomb. You use your blades as much as you can, only unholstering your pistols when absolutely unavoidable. You grab two swords and your holsters, and sprint out the door.

You manage to avoid unholstering your pistols during the battle. However, blades require close quarter combat, which means you’re getting hurt more often. And the insomnia means that your reflexes are slower than they’ve ever been. So after you successfully defend a group of tourists from the wanderer, while unsuccessfully defending yourself against the death throes of a bladed tail that flays open your back, you find yourself back in Zayne’s office, again.

Lately, you feel like you see the inside of Akso Hospital more than the inside of your own flat.

You try desperately to avoid having to go, when at all possible. You take care of yourself, when the injuries are in places you can reach. Teeth sinking into your ever-dwindling supply of bandage rolls, the pain is sharp and demands your entire focus, so your thoughts are unable to drift elsewhere, to flit to the places you can’t go in your mind yet, not yet, you can’t—

But there are some wounds, like the one you just got, that you can’t reach, contorting yourself in front of the bathroom mirror, your heavy, tired arms unable to finagle some disinfectant and a bandage over the torn skin. So here you are, again. To put it mildly, Zayne is not happy. He delicately, efficiently, dabs disinfectant onto the latest laceration on your back in frigid silence. You can almost taste the disapproval wafting from him.

It stings, badly, but the pain is dull amongst the cacophony of other aches and healing wounds on your exhausted, battered body. You don’t even have the energy to wince with each point of contact between the cotton and your gaping flesh.

“You don’t have to fix me up yourself every time, you know,” you try to break the ice. “I’m sure you have other patients with urgent complaints more in line with your specialty. You only know about this time because Greyson ratted me out.”

“I am your primary care physician, as well a cardiac surgeon. I am responsible for signing your fitness for duty certificates. Greyson knows this, and acted accordingly,” Zayne clips out. His office falls silent again, and you focus on the flowers you gifted him sitting near one of his office windows, as he prepares to slip the needle containing the local anaesthetic under your skin in preparation of the stitches you need. You try, as you always do without success, to figure out why he keeps them in here. When you first saw them, they reminded you of the color of the little seals he had made you when you were children. That you had interpreted as a threat. So you gave them to him on a whim, and was shocked to find them in his office the next time you visited. You wonder if he waters them himself, or if he lets the hospital’s horticulturist do it. He’s probably too busy to keep track of such trivial things. You decide that you should thank the lady you’ve seen watering plants in Akso’s hallways with a fruit basket or something for her extra effort. Out of the corner of your eye, a couple black birds flap their wings as if startled, half hidden in the fluttering leaves of the trees in the courtyard that Zayne’s office overlooks. You’re about to look for what startled them when—

The shot is worse than the disinfectant, but the painful prick is quickly over. A welcome numbness spreads under your skin, and you desperately wish it came in pill form for—well, everything else that’s wrong with you.

All you feel is a distant tug and release, but your muscles are locked tight as you let the delicate petals fill your vision, as you try not to think about anything at all, as you’ve done for months now. You’re grateful for the silence, for Zayne’s steady hands and breath. You’re grateful for his care, even though you hate that you need it. You don’t want to be another burden to him, when he has so many heavy burdens already. In this too, you have failed, as you failed—

You can’t. You can’t—

Almost as if he has just felt the way your body has stiffened even further under his competent hands, Zayne interrupts your spiral as he, light as a snowflake, finally lays the bandage over your neatly stitched wound and secures the adhesive sides. He sits back with a sigh and just gazes at your bare back in silence.

You can’t bring yourself to move yet. You’re just so tired. But you know you have to. You don’t want to worry him, you know he has other, more important matters to attend. You gingerly lean back and let your shirt, which had been scrunched up under your armpits and around your shoulders while Zayne worked, slide down your back as you heave yourself to your feet.

You don’t want to turn and see whatever non-expression Zayne has on his face—you want to get out of here, from under these too-bright lights and his tangible concern, but you owe him the courtesy of looking him in the eye as you express a gratitude that can never be fully conveyed in words. So you do turn, but find him leaning back on his desk, his hazel eyes fixed on the same flowers you had just been staring at.

You open your mouth to thank him, to say your goodbyes to get the hell out of here, when he cuts you off with a voice softer than you’ve ever heard from him.

“You know that you cannot continue like this,�� he murmurs, eyes still on the flowers.

You take in the sharp line of his nose, the severe set of his lips. The bob of his adam’s apple as he swallows draws your eyes down the contour of his throat, and it hurts you a little, what a beautiful man he has turned into. For a moment you are jerked back in time, the profile of a serious little boy with softer cheeks but the same hazel eyes overlaying itself atop the view in front of you. When he turns to look at you again the vision dissipates, and you suppress the pain—the only thing you’re good at these days. You steel yourself for whatever lecture he is about to lay into you, convinced that the gentleness in his voice is just his exhaustion at having to deal with you, again, when the shrill ring of his mobile rips apart the quiet in his office.

His frown deepens, but he doesn’t move to answer his phone. It continues to ring between the two of you.

“Better get that, Doctor Zayne,” you nod toward it, flooded with the relief that you might escape from his cold admonishment unscathed, this time.

His jaw clenches, and the knuckles of his hands are white where they clutch the desk, but after another ring he finally reaches into his white coat pocket and lifts the phone to his ear.

“This is Doctor Zayne,” he answers with his customary calm, despite the disappointment you’re pretty sure he’s feeling at the interruption of his flaying you open in ways that the wanderer failed.

You plaster the biggest smile on your face that you can muster, exploiting his inability to say anything as he listens to the other person on the line, and wiggle your fingers in a small wave. Before he can react, you’ve slipped through his office door, and you’re practically sprinting down the hallway to get the hell out of there before he can come after you.

Zayne pinches the bridge of his nose, glaring at his office door as if it’s the door’s fault for depriving him of the chance to tell you that he will refuse to sign any future medical certificates until you listen to him and get the help you so clearly, desperately need, that he needs you to get so that he can sleep at night without being afraid that his worst nightmares will manifest every time you enter his hospital. As he sighs, and prepares himself to handle the next emergency, he does not notice the fluttering birds outside his window, nor the jewel-eyed crow that disturbed them, taking flight from the trees in which they were perched.

***

It’s not too late. You’re exhausted, and hurt, but you’ve been patched up, and the idea of your empty, ineffectual bed fills you with anxiety. Your mission is still a go. So you stop briefly at home to dump your weapons, only retaining a small knife strapped under a black armband along your forearm, throw on a different loose, soft shirt since your other one was shredded and not in a way that looks cute for the club, and head out again. You know a place you’ve been to before with Tara and some other colleagues on an 'optional' but heavily implied as mandatory ‘team-building’ night that ended with a lot of vomit, an inter-office breakup, and a lot of stern glares from your captain the following week. You are deeply hoping that this place can give you what you need tonight.

You look up and cringe at the glaring neon sign: THE BOOM BOOM ROOM. Ok, so this place isn’t exactly classy. But you’re not looking for classy. You’re looking for affordable booze, overwhelming beats, and a late enough closing time not to get kicked out before you exhaust yourself to the extent required by this mission of yours. You’re relieved that the line moves swiftly, and the bouncer waves you in without a second look. Apparently you don’t look as horrifying as you feel, and the knife is discretely hidden under the band on your arm. And suddenly you’re inside.

You’re met with a wall of sound and smells, the bass vibrating in your chest, the floor sticky with what you hope is only spilled beer, and the crowd is surging. You close your eyes once and just soak it in for a moment, letting the mindless life that the place is bursting with wash over you. Then you slip through writhing bodies to reach the bar and order your first drink. You don’t actually want to get shit-faced, since you’re alone. But you do want to have enough to feel the pleasant numbness of alcohol burning its way through your veins, to get drowsy. You order a shot to start and a high-percentage beer to clutch while you dance so you don’t have to wait at the bar again.

It works, for awhile. You let the music fill you, you let the warmth of the shot spread through you limbs. The presence of other, anonymous people, who know nothing about you nor what you’ve been through, relieves some of the loneliness that you refuse to admit has been plaguing you ever since your grandmother and Caleb … Ever since you lost them.

And then you feel someone sidle a little closer to you than comfortable, and you open your eyes to find some guy looking intently at you with a hopeful smile on his face. He leans even closer to you to be heard over the beat as he shouts “Hey! Wanna dance?” into your ear, making you wince.

You shake your head, closing your eyes again, dismissing him. But he doesn’t seem to get the hint, because you feel a hand at your elbow, and hear his voice again: “Why not? You’re not with anyone, right?”

You open your eyes again, and gently, but firmly remove his hand from your elbow with your other hand. “Nah man, I’m just here to relax. I bet someone else would be happy to dance with you though.” You shoot him a tired thumbs up and try to shift away, but he somehow manages to keep pace in front of you, and he’s opening his mouth to say something else, and you’re repeating to yourself I’m a Hunter’s Association role model even when I’m off the clock, I will NOT remove his jaw from his skull, I will NOT remove his jaw from his skull… When suddenly you feel heat envelop your back and someone’s huge hands are gripping your hips—instinct kicks in, you’re convinced that this asshole isn’t alone and his buddy has managed to flank you, and the knife is out of your armband and at a big, warm throat before you realize you’ve spun in his grip, and a pair of bright red, amused eyes are looking down into your face.

“Come now, is that any way to greet your boyfriend, kitten?” Sylus smiles indulgently down at you, hands still on your hips.

“The fuck, Sylus?” you breathe, unable to move, your brain scrambled from trying to reconcile the club’s beat, the aching absence that you’ve been trying so hard to ignore, and the man finally filling it again, right in front of you for the first time since he left your flat’s foyer in a mess of blood and feathers.

Sylus lifts a hand from your hip and runs one long finger over the blunt edge of the knife, gently lowering it from where you are still holding it in shock against his throat. One droplet of blood, flashing like a jewel under the club’s lights, beads from where you pressed a little too hard, and begins to slip down the path of his carotid artery. You barely restrain yourself from launching yourself at his neck and running your tongue along his skin to counter the droplet’s descent—aaand at this highly intrusive thought, you want to punch yourself in the face, and tell yourself firmly that it’s the alcohol. You haven’t had alcohol in months. Your tolerance is basically non-existent at this point, you cannot be blamed for whatever the hell that urge just was.

“I see your professional greeting has not improved any since our last encounter, sweetheart,” he laughs, sounding genuinely pleased despite his complaint, thankfully oblivious to the insane thoughts inflicting themselves on your brain. His gaze flicks from you to the aggressive guy still gaping at the two of you. “I suggest you listen to what my partner has clearly communicated to you, if you would like to leave this... establishment, with all of the limbs with which you entered it,” he sniffs, clearly unimpressed with both the venue and the limbs in question. The guy’s eyes widen a little more, which you didn’t think possible, before he just nods his head so fast it looks like it will detach itself from his spine and pushes away from you through the crowd.

“I think you frightened him,” Sylus tsks, shaking his head. “Another poor service review for the Association’s feedback form, kitten. I’m worried about your performance review this year.”

“Perhaps I should bring them your head to compensate for my poor customer service. That would guarantee a raise instead of an admonishment,” you snap, still feeling violent from your inexplicable impulse to slobber all over this smug asshole’s throat.

Sylus’s eyes, impossibly, light up even more in response to your threat. “Oh, I would love to see you try to take my head,” he almost growls, smiling so wide you can see his crooked canines.

It’s the alcohol. It’s the alcohol. There is absolutely no innuendo to be found in what he has just said. You lift your hand to slap that thought right out of your head, but Sylus catches it in one of his own and tightens his other grip on your hip.

“You’ve already done quite enough damage to one of my favorite acquisitions tonight,” he says, running his thumb gently from your wrist to your palm. For a brief moment, all you can do is stare up into his face, ensnared by the softness in his usually sharp eyes, the slight crease between his eyebrows, the hair that you had told yourself for weeks could not possibly be as soft, as pretty, with the sheen and color of a pearl, as you remember it being.

Ok, someone must have spiked your drink. This is not happening. You cannot handle whatever game he is trying to play right now. “What are you even doing here?” you ask, in a desperate attempt to divert this conversation’s track before a trainwreck happens that leaves you in more pieces than you’re currently in. "And boyfriend? You're my boyfriend now?"

"Well, this is sudden, but how could I say no to such an elegantly worded proposition?" he gasps, eyes widening in mock surprise.

"Sylus," you warn.

"Yes, my better half?"

"Stop messing with me. Why did you tell that idiot that you're my boyfriend?" You need to know. You don't know why, but you need his answer almost as much as you need sleep right now.

"Unfortunately we live in a patriarchy where having a big, bad boyfriend apparently garners more respect than a clear 'no'," he shrugs. "I considered removing his hand from the rest of him and choking him with it, but thought that might make you mad." You roll your eyes, and he narrows his own. "I was trying to help you, but it appears my aid was unnecessary. I'm almost positive I saw him soil himself when you stabbed me." He smiles in a way that almost looks proud.

"I did not stab you," you insist, even though you can still see the thin line of blood disappearing under the color of his black shirt. You decide not to point it out. He'll discover it when he looks in a mirror later. Considering how self-satisfied he is, probably an activity he spends a lot of time doing. "Why are you here, again?" you repeat, shaking your head.

“A little birdie told me that a certain feral kitten had gotten injured again, and I am finally in a position to do something about it after business kept me away far longer than I had planned,” he answers. Still holding your hip and hand, he gently pulls you a little closer and begins to slowly sway with you, completely ignoring the fast paced, thumping beat of the current track the DJ is spinning.

“Mephisto?” Once again, you’re on the back foot. You are a highly skilled hunter, trained to have sharp senses and to be able to notice when you’re being surveilled.

He leans down, rounding his broad shoulders so he’s close enough to your ear for you to hear him hum his affirmation, leisurely sliding his hand from your hip to span the width of the small of your back to better guide you out of the path of other dancers, his large palm making you feel … safe.

“I haven’t seen him. At all,” you admit, suddenly feeling so tired and out of your depth. So terribly lacking, even at this, a most basic skill of your job.

“No surprise, considering how little you’ve been sleeping,” he says, and then grunts softly as you’re pushed closer into him by someone behind you making their way through the crowd. He’s so warm, so solid, and from this distance, he’s all you can see. Again, just like during the auction’s dance. How are you even here again? You resist the urge to rest your head against his chest like you did that night, as he forestalled the growing panic, as he showed you more kindness than you’ve been shown, or shown yourself, in months. In the months since… you can’t. You can’t, you can’t you can’t—

“You were a little distracted at your doctor’s office, too,” Sylus’s voice cuts through the thunder in your head, and it takes a beat for you to realize what he’s saying.

“You had Mephisto spy on my doctor’s visit?” you almost bellow, or rather, actually bellow, as the people around you shift and give you sideways glances. You try to jerk out of his hold, but only succeed in dragging the two of you a little to the side on the dance floor.

“I instructed him to confirm that you were actually getting proper treatment this time,” Sylus says, unruffled by your continued squirming to escape his arms. “Cease, you’re going to pull your stitches.”

“The stitches you only know about because you’re a creepy stalker!”

“Creepy?” he laughs. “What a strange way of saying handsome, protective, and resourceful.”

“Now I’m worried about your hearing,” you seethe. “That appointment was private!”

“Not private enough for our good doctor’s tastes, I’d wager."

“What does that mean?”

He levels you look with a look that you cannot begin to decipher. After a moment, he shakes his head, the earrings you just notice that he’s wearing flashing under the spinning lights. Is this asshole actually wearing ruby earrings to bring out his eyes? “You cannot possibly be this naïve,” he scoffs, but without conviction. Like he’s talking to himself.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, but you’re not allowed to spy on me during private moments like that,” you insist, giving up trying to get away from him since he has the reach and agility of an octopus, apparently.

“Excellent, then I’m allowed to spy on you during other moments. I’m glad we’ve cleared that up,” he declares solemnly. “Please pay Mephisto no mind if you happen to notice him in the future, and for heaven’s sake, do not feed him. He is not a pet—he is a subordinate and should be treated as such.”

You make the fastest decision of your life in compiling a list of possible crow snacks as Sylus resumes gently swaying your bodies, and it’s after pistachios as the 7th item on your Mephisto treat list that you realize he has danced the two of you to the edge of the dance floor, and that you have failed to object to him stalking you through his cantankerous mechanical crow.

“Silence is not consent, Sylus!” you try, only to be met with a pitying moue twisting his wide mouth.

“A deal’s a deal, sweetheart. Come, it’s getting late, and I know you are very tired. Let me take you home,” he commands. "You can show me how well you've been taking care of my little gift in my absence."

"Gift?" You're so lost. You stop, not taking another step until he starts making sense.

"The flowers I had Luke and Kieran deliver to your place."

"Flowers..." You wrack your foggy brain, startled at the scowl that is scrunching Sylus's beautiful face.

"Oh, you receive so many bouquets on a regular basis that they just blur together?" He takes a step forward, closing the distance between you again, but his hand slips away from yours until just your pinkies are linked. "I promise to redouble my efforts to make mine stand out from the crowd, then." Inexplicably, he lifts your linked pinkies to his lips for a kiss-the word tender drifts through your exhausted mind. His lips are unbearably soft.

You snort. "I never receive bouquets..." and then it hits you. The doom flowers.

"You sent me the pot of death threats?"

"Death threats?" he blinks, and it's the first time you think you've ever seen him at a loss for words. But he recovers quickly. "You mean the subtle and elegant form of self-defense to comfort and protect you in my absence?"

"Wut."

"I sent you a very generous supply of datura flowers. They're not only visually appealing, but also highly poisonous. You can use them to poison any unwanted guests you happen to find in your home if your more conventional weapons aren't practical for the occasion," he explains, eyes lighting up again.

"Sylus, you sent me a pot of deadly plants with no note or message. I thought someone was trying to convey a message, message. Like, a warning to watch my back."

His face does something complicated then: flickering from surprise to something like pride, but then he just stares at you, sanguine eyes drifting along your face and down to where his hand is linked with yours for a long moment. "It seems I underestimated your cynicism about other people," he says finally. "And while I always enjoy the proof of our kindred spirits, I would rather you didn't have to live a life where you have to be suspicious of something so banal as a gift of flowers." You are blindsided by the gentle sincerity in his words, and you're trying to hold back the tears that are burning your eyes out of nowhere, when he looks at your face again, brightening. "Now that I'm here, let me taking care of being the paranoid one." His gaze sharpens on your tear-filled eyes, and he cocks his head. Runs his middle finger from the corner of your mouth to just under your left eye, gathering the moisture there that is threatening to overflow. "Sweetheart, tears of gratitude are unnecessary. If you're really thankful, then let me take you home, and just try to refrain from offering me any datura tea when we get there, hmm?" He lifts his finger to his lips and flicks his tongue out to lick, and you are convinced you are hallucinating when his nostrils flair, as if he's savoring whatever he tastes in your tears.

As is becoming routine with Sylus, you feel like you're in a fever dream, watching him from a great distance: he's ahead of you somewhere, already at his next destination, pulling you along in his slipstream like a bird in flight, when you're not even sure you know how to fly. The only thing you are able to process at the moment is that if you don't say anything, you'll be right back where you started: staring at the streetlights spilling across your ceiling, exhausted in an empty bed, with no sleep in sight.

“No,” you blurt out. “I don’t want to go home. Please. You’re welcome to go, but I came here on a mission, and I am going to fucking complete it even if it kills me.”

He considers you for a moment, before asking, “And what mission is that?”

You look away, unwilling to meet his eyes now. You don’t want to admit that you’re so fucking tired you can hardly see straight, shoot straight, think straight, but every time you close your eyes, the memories come and you can’t you can’t you can’t and you haven’t slept properly in months.

“I see,” is all he says, and he pulls you along, your hand firmly wrapped in his, and you’re too tired to ask what, exactly, he sees. You let him lead you into the cool night, the bright night lights of Linkon City drowning out the stars above. He tosses you a helmet, and unlike the first time he put you on his motorcycle, he lifts you in his arms to plop you on the seat behind his.

“I’ll have Luke and Kieran pick up your bike and have it back to you before you need it tomorrow,” he says before you can even think to ask about it. “Hold on tight, and don’t go falling asleep on me. I won’t scrape you off the pavement if you fall off my ride.”

And just as he knew you would, you do the exact opposite of what he ordered, because you’re his contrary, ever wilful, feral kitten who refuses to do as its told. You wrap your arms around his solid waist, rest your helmeted head against his broad back, and fall promptly asleep. He relishes the feel of your arms still wrapped tightly around him, but the scarlet-ink tendrils of his evol keep you secured against his back in case your hold loosens as you sink deeper into sleep.

He snorts when you begin to snore through the helmet's comms.

He sighs, feeling content for the first time in weeks. It has taken much longer than he anticipated to clean up all the of messes that Sherman and his backers made while he was gone. Mephisto has been reporting to him daily regarding how you were doing, and Kieran and Luke have been on standby in case you needed them. But even sleep-deprived and determined to take care of your own problems by yourself to the point of self-destruction, you have handled what has come your way with competence, so their help has never been absolutely necessary. But Sylus can see just how close to the breaking point you are. Now that things have finally settled in the N109 zone, he intends to begin a new game, and it starts with him flourishing the trump card of his current hand: your invitation to let him use your place as a safe house whenever the ‘need’ arises.

He revs the engine, just for fun, smiles to himself, and rides through the rest of the night, until the sun comes up.

Later, when you wake up alone in your own bed, stretching lazily in the soft sunlight filtering through your gauzy curtains, you realize it’s the best night’s sleep you can ever remember having. You turn your head and find a black feather on the pillow next to you. You flick it gently, and try not to think too deeply about anything at all.

#love and deepspace #love and deepspace sylus #lads sylus #fanfiction #my fanfic #this one got away from me and ended up being wildly longer than intended #self-indulgent comfort for suffering from sleepless nights #sylus x reader #l&ds sylus

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padfootagain · 9 months

Text

Black Dog Neighbour

Hi everyone ! Today, we’re answering a request made for my 6k followers event by @nobodyshomearchive : “hi hello lovely xxi have been hooked to your blog lately, and to say that is an understatement in all honesty. congratulations on 6k followers <33 so for your celebration can i get an enemies to lovers (ouh massive surprise 👀) with sirius black (preferably post azkaban but it's okay if you don't want to!) cause i'm literally so head over heels for that man. and i'm loving your something good series :) again, congrats and feel free to ignore the request if you don't feel like writing it/it doesn't hit your creative spot.

have a great day/night hun <;3”

Thank you so much for your request, and I hope you like this! I didn’t do post-azkaban Sirius, because he doesn’t exist in my brain. I have been in denial for so long, the Potters are living their best lives, didn’t you know?!

Anyway, still went for post-Hogwarts and post-war Sirius, simply didn’t include anything referencing to Azkaban or… anything canon compliant, to be fair. But as per usual for me when it comes to this character…

Hope you like this! Tell me what you think!

****

Pairing: Sirius Black x reader

Warnings: A small warning for an ex being an arse and showing up drunk on your doorstep (there’s nothing violent, but you do physically push him away, so heads up on that, just in case). But the rest’s cuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuute!!!

Summary: God, you hate that guy next door. Bloody annoying neighbour with his noisy motorcycle, his loud friends, his annoying laugh, his charming smile, his amazing hair, his effortless way to sport sexy leather jackets. He’s insufferable, you hate him to bits. The fact that he’s a talented wizard who can magically change into a dog to guard your door when your ex comes bothering you again will not change your first impression in the slightest, by the way. You still hate him to guts. Probably…

Word count: 4592

Sirius Black Masterlist – Main Masterlist

Sirius fucking Black.

Your neighbour, aka worst enemy, aka the person you despise the most on earth.

He is loud. He is annoyingly pretty. He is getting on your fucking nerves... again!

Of course, it is Friday night, which means that his stupid friends are over for a “boys’ night”. What a scam…

In consequence, you are currently casting sound-proofing spells all over your walls in an attempt to shush their idiotic laughs. And especially Sirius’s; his unmistakable bark-like laughter, loud and boisterous and absolutely prone to draw a grin from your face even if you don’t mean to. By Agrippa’s hat, you will soon either cut his throat or call for an auror. Or maybe you could burst into his apartment and shout into his face just so he can see how bloody annoying that is. Or kissing him to shut him up sounds like a plan, too…

You shake your head, grinning at your own genius idea. Sirius and his friends are being rudely loud again, when you have already told them a thousand times – which is to say every Friday for the last six months, since Sirius moved in the apartment next to yours – that the walls in this old building of Diagon Alley are too thin, that you can hear everything going on in Sirius’s apartment despite sound-proofing spells… and that they need to keep it down past 11pm because you have work the next day. The absolute dread of working in retails does not, by any means, spare the Wizards and Witches of this world…

You look through your apartment for the object that would make the most noise. You give a few items a try, but settle for the good old pan and spoon. Ha, what precious allies these two are, never failing you.

You add a little spell to amplify sounds – just for good measure – find some earplugs, and then proceed to bang the shit out of that pan, right by your common wall with Sirius’s apartment.

It goes on for five full minutes before you manage to catch the quietened sound of something against your door…

And sure enough, when you stop and take your earplugs out, someone is banging at your door.

“Y/N!” a voice that you easily recognize shouts. “STOP THIS FUCKING NOISE!”

You open the door wide, and have to bend to the side to avoid Sirius’s fist as it misses the door.

“Merlin! Sorry! You’re okay? I didn’t touch you, right?” Sirius asks with anger instantly replaced with worry.

“I have amazing reflexes.”

And anger is back into his dark grey eyes again...

“What the fuck are you doing in there?! Are you mental?!”

“I don’t know, Sirius. I didn’t notice anything over the cacophony of your friends shouting into my ears all night!”

His jaw clenches, and you hate yourself for noticing the trembling of the muscle there, and finding it terribly attractive…

“And you had to make all this ruckus instead of simply walking three meters to my door and nicely ask us to shut our mouths because…?”

“Because I’ve asked you dozens of times, this has been going on for fucking months, Sirius!”

He rolls his eyes, and Merlin do you want to punch him straight across the jaw… his very sharp, very pretty jaw…

“We’re just having a nice evening…”

“And I am trying to sleep!”

“It’s barely midnight!”

“I work tomorrow, you asshole!”

“Ermm… guys?”

“WHAT?!” you both exclaim, turning to face a shy-looking Remus.

“Sorry about the noise, Y/N. We’ll be more careful next time. We’ll leave for the evening.”

“You don’t have to leave…” Sirius complains, but James is already walking out, helping a drunk Peter to cross the corridor.

“It’s late, anyway. Lily’s gonna worry, I was supposed to be home twenty minutes ago,” James argues, and Sirius has to yield.

“Alright, see you on Sunday, then!” he shoots his friends a grin, and the group waves at you.

You rudely ignore them, crossing your arms before your chest. And as Sirius turns back to you, his frown is icy and he quickly matches your stance.

“You’re such a pain in my ass, Y/N…”

“And you’re a jerk.”

“Asshole.”

“You’re insufferable, you know that?”

“You’re one to talk!”

“Oh, you talk plenty enough for both of us. And loudly so!”

Before he can reply, you’ve stepped back into your apartment and slammed the door.

You hear him pestering after you for a moment, then nothing, and finally a door slamming.

Well, that went well…

You are in trouble.

Big… huge trouble.

Your ex has just stepped into your shop, and you don’t know how to react.

You didn’t break up in a horrendous way, on the contrary! He wanted the two of you to remain friends, and you simply didn’t, worried that you wouldn’t be able to get over each other if you stayed in touch. And by the look he gave you as he stepped inside your shop ten minutes ago, and the many glances he’s thrown at you since, you’re pretty sure that you were right about this.

It's not like your relationship was terrible, by any means. Josh was nice, reliable, but also… not for you. You didn’t have much in common, at the end of the day, and if his personality and looks were nice, it was hard to build a lasting relationship on… nothing. It was for the best that you called it quits.

And as if your day needed any darkening, Sirius Black chooses this very moment to step into your shop. You don’t wait for him to aim for the counter to take out a large pouch in which you have gathered all the ingredients for his friend’s monthly brew. He smiles at the sight, moves towards you. And you hate yourself for the leap your heart makes as he comes closer.

“Hi, Y/N.”

“Hi.”

It’s the first time you speak to each other since the ‘spoon and pan incident’, and you both hesitate. How are you supposed to act now? Apologise for being petty and kind of a dick? Ask for his apology for being a dick? Act like nothing happened?

“Thanks for Remus’s stuff,” Sirius says, voice quieter than usual, gentle, asking for a truce.

Outside, it’s snowing, winter claiming the streets of London, and there are little snowflakes caught in Sirius’s hair. It looks lovely.

All of a sudden, you’re longing for some eggnog, and some pumpkin pie.

His fingers are cold when they meet yours, tips brushing over your knuckles as he picks up the bag, and you hate your own heart for stammering.

“No problem. You know the drill,” you tentatively smile, while Sirius hands you some silvery Sickles.

“I would also need pearl dust, please. Here’s the amount.”

He hands you a parchment with quantities written on it, four small packages to be prepared separately.

“How many hearts do you intend to break with so many love potions?” you joke, turning around to get to work.

The brass scale is set on a small table, pushed right against the wall, behind the counter. It is an easy task for a professional like you, measuring quickly while Sirius laughs.

“No one, thankfully,” he replied.

“Oh… some Amortentia, perhaps? Trying to figure out who your crush likes?”

“No… nothing like that. It’s the properties for invisibility that I’m looking for.”

“If you plan on breaking into Gringotts, I don’t want to know.”

Again, a loud laugh. And you wish you could hold back your smile, but you can’t, the sound is too infectious for that.

You’ve forgotten that your ex is here, you’re reminded of his presence only when you turn back towards Sirius and he’s standing right behind your tall neighbour, a bag of potion ingredients in his hands.

You avert your eyes, and Sirius frowns at the sight. He glances over his shoulder, spots your ex, but says nothing. You only notice how he tightens his hold on the pouch.

“Pearl dust’s quite expensive,” you tell him, handing him the phials, before announcing the price.

“That’s alright.”

He hands you the galleons, takes the vials, but doesn’t step away just yet.

“You… you’re okay?” he asks, and you’re not sure what to do with his expression. It’s somewhere between annoyance and genuine concern.

“Yeah, sure.”

He nods, like he’s disappointed. He’s not bringing up The Incident, and so you won’t either.

“Right, good day.”

He turns in a hurry, not waiting for your answer, but you notice the way he throws a look back before stepping out into the street, snow falling over his dark coat and dark hair again. You hate how your eyes linger on his frame until he’s out of sight, walking down the busy street, but you can’t help it…

“Hello, Y/N.”

You’re brought back to Earth as your ex speaks, and you turn to him, your smile turning from genuine to polite.

“Hi, Josh.”

“How are you?”

“Good! Do you need anything else?” you ask, pointing at the ingredients he’s put on the counter.

“Huh… no, nothing else.”

“That makes two Galleons, 5 Sickles and 3 Knuts, please.”

He hands you some money, and you hand him his change. You see him hesitating, before diving.

“Look, I… I came here hoping to see you.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, I… I’ve been meaning to tell you. I’ve been thinking a lot lately, about what happened, and… Look, I know I could have done better when it came to us. And I thought… perhaps… if you were willing to give me another chance…”

“Josh…”

“Just… hear me out...”

“No. I’m sorry, but no. We… we were not compatible, that’s all. I like you, you’re nice, but… It won’t work between us.”

Slowly, he nodded, apparently defeated. And when another client cleared their throat behind him, he finally left.

What a mess of a morning…

It is Friday night, and the Marauders are keeping it down. You are surprised by it, but you can only praise these men for being, for once, well-behaved. 11:30, as you slip under the covers, ready for some well-deserved rest before waking up too early to open the shop in the morning. You are ready to fall into Morpheus’s arms and abandon yourself to slumber when someone knocks on your door.

You ignore the sound for a while, but it starts again, and again…

And you thought Sirius was making some efforts. You were ready to commit murder…

You stand up, grab a bathrobe and walk to the door, ready to throw hands with Sirius at this point. Only… only, when you actually open the door, it’s not Sirius who’s facing your wrath.

It’s Josh.

“What… What are you doing here?” you ask, too stunned to think about being polite. “It’s almost midnight.”

But then he looks up at you, and you notice at once that he’s been drinking. His eyes are glimmering, he sways slightly before finding back his balance…

“Josh…”

“Y/N, I… I know that now is not the time, but… please, give me another chance. Please…”

“Josh, we’ve talked about this. Us… it’s over. We’re not getting back together. I’m sorry.”

“But I can try and be better. I’ll be better, let me show you.”

You push him off when he staggers forward, trying to hold you.

“Josh! Stop it!” you raise your voice, trying to get him to let go.

“Please…”

“I said no! Get off!”

He’s finally letting go, but doesn’t take a step back. Instead, he leans against your doorframe, not stepping inside, but making it impossible for you to simply go back in and close the door.

“Josh! Go away! I’m sorry, but this is over between us. You have to leave me alone!”

“But I don’t want to! Y/N!”

“Hey!”

You’re both distracted by the new voice that comes shouting through the corridor. Sirius is standing before his front door, wearing a Queen t-shirt and some dark sweatpants, in what you guess his is nightly outfit. Still, when he comes nearer, hair tied in a bun, glowering, he looks intimidating, tattoos all over his arms on full display, traces of ink peeking above the collar of his t-shirt.

You think for a second that he’s going to make a scene because of how noisy you are right now, not ironic at all given his habits of messing your sleeping schedule, and you’re ready to get angry at him, because this truly is the last thing you need tonight, when…

“You leave her the fuck alone!”

You’re too stunned to react when Sirius comes to stand right by your side.

“She told you to fuck off, so you fuck off!”

“Who the fuck are you?” Josh replied, words a little slurred.

“Her boyfriend,” Sirius lies, but it works wonders, as Josh becomes suddenly very pale. “Now, you fuck off, or I’ll throw you out of the building.”

“You? With him?” Josh asks as he turns to you, and you feel pity for the pain in his eyes, but you don’t regret leaving him.

“Yeah. He’s my boyfriend. Now, please, Josh… leave me alone.”

But he shakes his head.

“I can’t. I can’t. I still love you…”

Sirius looks at you, but you shake your head.

“You have to leave me alone and move on.”

“No… I… I’ll come back later…”

Sirius notices your worry, it almost looks like fear, and he doesn’t hesitate when he grabs Josh by the collar.

“You listen to me now, dickhead,” Sirius growls, it’s almost animalistic, and you’re frozen by this threatening tone of his. “If you set a foot in this building again, if you go see her at her shop, if you so much as breathe in her direction or step in the street she’s in, I will come for you, and I will make sure you can never bother her again. Do you get that?”

“You’re bluffing.”

Sirius grins, something twisted and terribly dark, and even you shiver when he speaks again, voice low and terrible.

“I fought for the Order during the war. I’m a Black. Trust me, you don’t want to fuck with me.”

Slowly, Josh nods, struggling to swallow.

“So… will you leave her alone?”

Again, Josh nods.

“Good boy. Now get the fuck out of here.”

He’s barely released Josh that he’s sprinting down the stairs, stumbling and catching himself against the wall, before disappearing.

But you don’t see that. You’re staring at Sirius, and seem unable to look away.

“You’re alright?”

You’re startled by the softness Sirius’s voice is now wearing, such a stark contrast with the threatening tone he wore a minute ago.

“Y/N? You’re okay? He didn’t hurt you, right?”

“What? No… no, I’m fine! He just… showed up and I couldn’t get rid of him.”

“Yeah, I figured.”

“Thank you,” you whisper as he gets closer.

“You’re sure you’re alright?”

“Yeah, just… a little shaken, I think.”

Slowly, Sirius nods.

“Hey, no need to worry, okay? I’ll keep an eye out tonight. He won’t bother you again. And if he does, in the coming days or weeks, and I’m not around, then you come and tell me. I’ll give him a good fright, and he’ll leave you alone.”

“Thanks but… why would you do that for me? You hate me.”

Sirius chuckles at that, raising an eyebrow.

“I don’t hate you. You’re annoying, but I don’t hate you.”

“Oh…”

His touch is infinitely gentle when he rests his hand on your arm.

“You can go back to sleep. Don’t worry, he won’t bother you again tonight. I promise.”

Slowly, you nod, a little too stunned to complain or argue or discuss what has just happened. Instead, you walk back to your apartment, lock the door, and go back to bed, thinking about the way Sirius’s hands looked gentle without his rings…

You’re in a hurry this morning. Your brain has not finished to process everything that has happened last night, but this will have to wait. You must rush to the shop, and you can’t find your bloody wand…

Ha! There! What is it doing under the couch? Never mind, you need to hurry, and you need to hurry now!

Only, when you open the front door, you almost trip onto a large black door sleeping on your threshold. A huge black dog, as a matter of fact.

“What in Merlin’s beard…?!”

His ears perk up at the sound of your voice, and he looks up at you with dark grey eyes that remind you of someone…

But it’s impossible, of course. That must be his dog, though. Since when does Sirius has a dog though?!

The animal slowly stands, a real giant, all dark fur and intimidating growls, until he’s shaken some sleep off its frame, and then he looks up at you, as if expecting a command.

“Hi,” you say, feeling foolish, but finding nothing better to say.

The dog merely comes closer, slowly, ears down in submission, as if he’s worried to scare you away. You hold out your hand, and he hurries to rub his snout into it, licking your fingers.

You giggle at the sensation.

“You look intimidating, but you’re a good boy, aren’t you?”

He barks in agreement, and you give him scratches as a reward.

“Who do you belong to, huh? Are you Sirius’s dog?”

The dog merely licks your fingers again.

“You look the part, at least. You fit the motorcycle-and-leather-jackets aesthetic.”

A few scratches more, and you finally remember that you are running late…

“Shoot!”

You lock the door, hurry towards the stairs. But you stop the dog when he tries to follow.

“No, no, no! I’m going to work, you stay here. I’m sure Sirius will be back soon. You stay here.”

The dog blinks, but sits anyway, letting you go.

For the whole trip to the store, you wonder who this dog belongs to, and who would let him sleep outside like this. If he really did belong to Sirius, he would hear about this…

Your day is a weird one.

After arriving almost late, but not quite, you spend your morning being busy and running around the store looking for the right ingredients for various potions and clients. And yet, several times during your shift, you feel someone looking at you.

The first time, it’s Sirius, who’s squinting on the other side of the glass door. He looks away the second your eyes land on him, and you’re almost certain that he blushes, although you didn’t think it to be possible to make Sirius Black blush.

The second time, it’s the black dog again, who remains sitting by the door under the falling snow for about ten minutes before leaving.

The third time, it’s the dog again, you see him being petted by a customer as she walks out of the shop.

But if the dog belongs to Sirius, then you guess that he’s been around several times throughout the day, which seems odd. Also, you want to chastise him for leaving the animal alone in the cold for extended periods of time throughout the day. Is he heartless?!

So, as you go home that night, you leave your coat in your apartment before heading to Sirius’s.

He answers on the second knock.

“Oh! Hi, Y/N!” he grins a welcome at you. “Need anything?”

“Yeah… I wanted to talk to you, if you have a minute.”

He merely nods, moving to let you inside.

You’ve been here a couple of times before, but you still appreciate the warm atmosphere of the large space that forms his living room. A huge Gryffindor flag is hung across the wall on the right, while windows let you see falling snow over the roofs of Diagon Alley on the opposite side of the room. A large chimney surrounded by comfortable armchairs and sofas, along with a soft red carpet seem to call for you.

“So? What can I do for you, Y/N?”

You turn to him again while he points at the sofa, silently inviting you to sit, but you remain standing. You cross your arms, and he frowns at the sight.

“Where’s your dog?”

Your tone is sharper now, and his frown only deepens, brows knitted together.

“My what?”

“Your dog. Huge. Black. Looks like he could bite my throat off.”

“I don’t have a dog.”

“Really? He’s been following me around all day. He was on my threshold this morning…”

“…Y/N…” he tries to interrupt you, but you don’t let him.

“No! Listen… Thank you for what you did last night. I was really… Thank you. Josh wouldn’t leave and you were most definitely helpful. But let’s be clear, I’m a big girl, and I can take care of myself! I don’t need your protection or anything, got it?”

You wonder why he’s smiling now, but he is all the same.

“Got it. Was just trying to be helpful.”

“You were.”

“Good.”

“Good. But your good action doesn’t mean that I’m going to accept any harm coming to this cute dog of yours!”

“I thought he wanted to bite your throat off.”

“He looked like he could. He was pretty sweet, though.”

“Hmmm…”

“Anyway… what’s wrong with you!? Leaving him outside all night and then in the street while it was snowing!?”

“Y/N, relax. I don’t have a dog, let me explain.”

“Then whose dog is it? Cause we have to find his owner, I’m going to throw hands!”

Sirius laughs, his usual, bark-like laugh, and your puzzled by the sound. It resembles a bark even more than usual.

Sirius heaves a sigh, shakes his head, apparently hesitating, but eventually, he takes a step closer.

“You have to promise me that you won’t tell anyone about this.”

“Why?”

“Because if you do, I might be arrested.”

Your eyes grow round.

Oh dear… the…

“…Potion. The potion! You’ve done something illegal with it!”

Sirius laughs again.

“The pearl dust you mean? It’s just a trick for my godson, for Christmas. How do you think the presents get under the tree without anyone carrying them in? The fellow is a rascal, standing watch all night to catch Santa red-handed. We need to get more and more creative each year. No, don’t worry, it’s nothing like that.”

“Oh… but then… what are you talking about?”

“Do you promise that you won’t tell?”

“Have you killed someone?”

“Of course not!”

“I don’t know, you were pretty… scary last night.”

“Did I scare you?”

“No… but Josh was ready to faint.”

He laughs again at that.

“I haven’t harmed anyone.”

“Okay… then, I promise.”

Sirius hesitates some more, before warning you not to freak out. You don’t have time to question him though, he’s already transforming into…

“… the black dog!”

You gasp at the sight, but you don’t back away when Sirius approaches under his animagus form. Instead, you reach out for him, giving him a few scratches between his ears, making him wiggle his tail happily.

“Oh wow… you’re an animagus! This is beautiful…”

He laughs as he changes back into human, the sound still somewhere close to a growl.

“Am I a good boy, then?” he teases, making you laugh. “No need to call for the animal welfare…”

“But… what were you doing around the shop today? And last night? Did you sleep on the porch?”

Sirius averts his eyes, and you have to double-check, but you’re certain that he is blushing right now.

“Ha, that… I didn’t mean to look like a creep or anything. But I… I was worried your ex would come back. Just wanted to check on you, ‘s all. I didn’t follow you around or anything! I just… went to check that you were alright at the shop a few times.”

“Why?”

He looks up at you with a slight frown, as if it is obvious, as if you’re stupid for not guessing.

“Because… I was worried about you.”

“About me?”

“Is it so surprising?”

“You hate me.”

“Again, I don’t hate you. You’re simply annoying the shit out of me. I like it, actually.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh.”

You blink, trying to make sense of all this, and Sirius looks at you with amusement.

“Is that why you were quiet last night? To not bother me?”

“Oh, the boys weren’t here. Busy week. We’ll be back at being insufferable next Friday.”

You roll your eyes at that, but Sirius laughs.

“I’m joking! I understand, okay? We’re too loud. We’ll keep it down from now on.”

“Right, okay…”

He bit his lip, ran a hand through his hair, in what you guess is shyness. God, you would have never thought to use this adjective to describe him. His rings catch the warm light of the fire burning in the hearth as he moves his fingers through his hair.

“Look, I… I’m sorry for the other night. Actually… for all the other nights. We’ll be more careful next time,” he says, and you raise an eyebrow in surprise.

You never thought you would hear an apology from him, even less so an earnest one, and yet…

“Thank you, Sirius. I’m sorry, too. It was petty and uncalled for.”

“No, you… you were right.”

He heaves a frustrated sigh, runs a hand through his long dark curls again, rebel strands falling before his eyes. You hold tightly onto the sleeve of your hoodie, refraining the sudden urge to push the curls away from his face, brush them behind his ear…

“Look, I… I don’t want us to be on bad terms,” Sirius goes on. “Could I make up for being a dickhead by buying you some fancy Christmas drink? My treat. As a token of good faith and a sign for peace in our building?”

He offers you his open palm, and you shake hands with a smile adorning both of your faces.

“Deal.”

“Any afternoon free this week?”

“Wednesday?”

“Then, I’ll buy you the fanciest cocoa I can find. And even some pumpkin pie, if you’re nice.”

“Sounds good.”

You’re reluctant to pull away but have to let go of his hand.

“Actually… scratch that,” Sirius shakes his head. “Would you go on a date with me?”

Your eyes grow round.

“A date? With you?”

“Yeah. On Wednesday?”

“But… with you?”

“Don’t act so surprised. You really think I play bodyguard for just anybody?”

You laugh at that, you can’t help it, even if you’re still quite stunned by the whole situation.

You weight your options, but then you look at him again, and the answer you want to give is obvious, even if he gets on your nerves all the bloody time…

“Okay. A date. On Wednesday.”

He grins, bright and infectious.

“Great! Awesome!”

“Great.”

You remain staring at each other for a moment, both of you trying to hide your excitement, until you finally clear your throat.

“I should…” you begin, pointing at the door.

“Sure… busy day?”

“You can’t imagine.”

“Hmm…”

You hurry towards the door, feeling overwhelmed by his nearness.

“See you on Wednesday then!” he calls after you as you reach for your own door.

“Sure! But it better be the best hot chocolate I’ve drunk, or I’ll ask for a refund!”

He laughs, and when you turn one last time towards him, Sirius is leaning against his doorframe, staring at you with a grin on his lips and mischief painted all over his features. He winks, and your heart skips several beats.

“Oh, don’t worry. You won’t regret this.”

*********************************

Taglist :

@reg-arcturus-black @hells-escapees @omgrachwrites

@wolfmoonmusic

#sirius black #sirius black x reader #sirius black x you #sirius black x y/n #sirius black fanfiction #sirius black fic #sirius black fluff #sirius black one shot #marauders #the marauders #marauders era #marauders fanfiction #hp fanfiction #hp #hp fanfic #fanfiction #fanfic #writing

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mybworlds · 1 month

Text

Blind date

Pairing: dom!Javier Peña x F!Reader (no use of Y/N)

Summary: It's been a while since you had a blind date, tonight you have one. You know how these meetings end, but you can't imagine his sexual choices.

Series warnings: porn with lil plot, smut (18+ MDNI), BDSM, use of you, use of alcohol, use of spanish petnames, you character is shorter than Javi, the main character has female features, use of handcuffs, two consenting adults, dom!Javier, dom/sub dynamics, creampie, oral sex (m), fingering, masturbation (m and f), PinV protected. Blind date, be careful do not imitate!

A/N Here we go, I just came up with this idea and wrote it in just under an hour, if there are any mistakes excuse me and take this one-shot for what it is. This is my first time writing about BDSM practices so if it's not entirely accurate, I apologize.

Thanks @saradika for the divider.

You haven't had a blind date in a while. The last time was a few years ago and it was a disaster. The guy you've been chatting with for a few weeks turned out to be an horny twenty year old boy. You told him he wasn't even old enough to drink and deleted the app. You didn't want to have these surprises anymore.

But you also have needs and above all you don't want to commit to anyone.

But that's another story.

You listened to a friend and therefore downloaded that app again, but this time you are very careful who you talk to. You make it clear straight away what you want and the age of the person you want to date. Or rather, fuck. Because these dating sites are nothing more than that.

You're wearing a little black dress, pulling your hair back into a braid, a light makeup and you're ready.

Tonight you have an appointment with a certain Javier07, you sincerely hope that that number does not indicate his date of birth!

You have arranged to meet in a place in the center of the city for 9 p.m. You're a little nervous, you hope it's not another meeting where you explain to the kid on duty why he can't drink or do certain things with you!

You drink two shots of bourbon at the bar, you bite your lower lip a little nervously and look left and right. You don't know what he looks like since you talked to him, but he hasn't a profile photo.

From the way he talked he seemed like a person who knows what he's doing, he hasn't told you much about his work. In short, he was able to maintain a certain mystery about himself and that intrigues you a lot.

Every person who enters you turns around, but no one approaches you. You think he stoods you up.

It's almost midnight, you leave a note and leave.

Fuck apps, fuck dating sites, fuck Javier07 whoever you are!

You're outside the club and you're fiddling with your purse, when a car flashes at you making you turn around, you fear he's the usual idiot so you ignore him. The car flashes and then honks. You turn around, but only to tell him to fuck off and that you've already had a bad night, you come closer and are about to call him an asshole, but he's the one who interrupts you, "Starlight?

It's your nickname on the app, you're confused "Javier07?!"

"In person!" he exclaims. "I'm sorry I stood you up, but I can't risk being seen like this!"

He's still mysterious and it really intrigues you.

"Do you want to go for a ride my precious Starlight?" he gives you a crooked smile.

"It depends on what kind of ride." You reply with a grin and resuming the tone of your conversations.

He smiles back at you, "A ride that will make you scream with pleasure," he replies, "Do you have to do some more tests to see if it's me?"

You exchange another smile, then ask him, "Where are you taking me?"

"At my place, if you trust me enough." he provokes you, you get into his car, answering his question in a way.

When you arrive at his house, you realize that he doesn't spend much time there judging by the few pieces of furniture and the considerable amount of dust on the furniture.

"So, what do you do?" you ask him, looking at his face for the first time in the light. He has well-defined features, big dark eyes, a pronounced nose, a well-groomed moustache, seemingly soft lips. It could have been worse.

"Take a guess," he says sounding so mysterious.

You narrow your eyes, you've never been good at these games. Does he want to play a role-playing game?

"Um, I've never been good at these games."

He smiles sideways, becoming even sexier in your eyes, why hasn't he already taken you to bed and fucked you properly?

"I'll give you a hint," he says, dangling a pair of handcuffs from his index finger.

You cross your arms, "Am I under arrest?" you ask him, raising an eyebrow and smiling lasciviously.

He smiles back, approaching you, looking you from head to toe, "Are you a good or a bad girl, cariño?"

"Take a guess," you respond by taking a step towards him too, looking him in the eye from bottom to top.

“Did you put on this dress for me?” he asks you in a low, soothing voice.

"I promised you, you remember?" you reply, "You owe me a drink or two at least," you add in a low voice.

"Sure, nena" he says, bending down towards you and with the excuse of taking a bottle from behind you, he sticks his nose in your hair "You smell so good," he tells you, then repeats the same gesture and this time he nuzzles your exposed shoulder.

He's teasing you and you like it.

"I like you, little girl. You're not afraid." he tells you, taking a half step back to open the bottle of tequila. He pours it into two glasses and then offers it to you, "I don't normally drink it like this, but I don't have anything better." he shrugs.

"'s okay, I forgive ya." you say grabbing your glass and starting to sip your drink.

He drinks it all in one gulp, then squints his eyes for a moment and pours himself more tequila.

"This isn't your first blind date, is it?" he asks, gulping down the drink again.

You finish your drink and hold out the glass for a second round, "No. And from the way you're acting, I'd say it's not for you either, cop." you tease him biting your lower lip.

"And who told you who I am?" he asks you, putting down the glass and the bottle.

"The handcuffs, you clever guy."

He replies with a crooked smile, "I might have gotten them at a sex shop!"

Right.

"You're a smart guy. As well as provocative." you say, tilting your head to the side and leaning against the cabinet behind you. "So, do we want to do something or do we just look at each other and provoke like in chat?"

"Show me," he says in an amused tone.

"Don't be naive with me, Javier07." You say, taking off your heels and placing your feet on the cold tiles of his apartment.

"Only Javier," he says, coming closer, "and now take off your dress." He orders you in a soothing voice, sending a shock through you.

"Aren't you going to give me a kiss first?" you tease, nibbling on your lower lip with a little grin.

He comes closer to you and takes your chin between his fingers, he doesn't kiss you, he gently bites your lower lip and then licks it slowly making you close your eyes and hold your breath.

"No," he answers before stepping back and giving you the space to do his bidding.

You lift your dress over your head and slip it off, remaining in your bra and black thong. Javier scrutinizes you carefully and his gaze alone is enough to make your nipples harden.

"You look amazing," he says, placing a kiss on your neck and collarbones, then running his tongue back the other way. Your skin feels like it's on fire, “Come,” he says in a husky voice, leading you to his bedroom.

He makes you lie down on the bed before climbing on top of you and watching you surrender to his will. His eyes seem to shine in the dimly light of the room. He finally kisses you and as you had imagined his lips are soft, he devours your lips and tongue together. You find yourself moaning in his mouth before slipping his hands into his hair and that's when he stops.

"Don't." he says an inch from your lips, you look at him already feeling breathless "Take off your bra and thong," you swallow looking him in the eyes for a long time as if to register his question.

"But you're still... Um... " you start to reply, absolutely perplexed by the direction the evening is taking.

"Just do it, chica." you take a deep breath and obey "Very good," he adds enunciating the two words well and making your skin crawl "You are beautiful, now don't move." he says again and this time he takes your hands carrying them behind your back and caging them in the handcuffs.

He leans down towards you and that's when he kisses you again, he sprinkles kisses and little bites on your neck that makes you moan with pleasure, his fingers pinch and tease your nipples gently, but firmly making you squirm beneath him and eager for more.

He lifts himself completely off of you and you look at him puzzled, "On your belly," he orders and you obey again.

He grabs you by the handcuffs, holding your hands slightly higher, then hits one of your buttocks hard, once, twice, three times, then moves on to the other. Even though it hurts, you like it.

First he hits and then he caresses your skin, then he stops.

You are not used to this kind of practices, usually you are used to a relationship where you have an active role, not as a submissive like this. However, it is not so bad.

Your thoughts are interrupted when you feel his fingertip caressing the entrance to your intimacy with circular movements. You gasp, turning to the side your head, "Fuck," you groan feeling your vision blur.

You let out a little cry of excitement when you feel his finger enter you and get wet with your moisture, "You're so hot. So tight. And all for me." he continues with that slow exhausting movement that takes you further and further towards the abyss. You bite your lip repeatedly and moan without restraint.

"My turn," he says interrupting that sweet torture and helping you lie on your back and then sitting on your knees, you see him take off his black shirt with calculated slowness so you have the time and opportunity to appreciate his toned, but not pumped-up, body. He also unbuckles his belt and then takes off his pants.

Well, you don't hide the fact that you've had more than one sexual encounter and with more than one man, but he has a strange power over you, he fascinates you and instills a certain fear in you all at the same time.

He releases his cock which turns out to be quite huge, you look at him with your lips parted and your eyes almost wide open. It's beautiful, thick and you can't wait to run your tongue over his pink bulbous tip.

"I know you can't wait to choke on my cock." He says and it's true, you look at him with pleading eyes before biting your lower lip, "I knew it, mi pequeña pícara!" then he pulls you forward slightly so that you can lean further forward towards his shaft.

You open your mouth to welcome it between your lips, but it's huge so you have to open your lips even more. Welcoming his cock between your lips is an experience as erotic as satisfying, his sighs then together with his curses make you wet even more, his tense face and closed eyes make you take it all the way down your throat moaning and groaning with pleasure.

You see him almost do violence to himself as he withdraws from your welcoming throat and mouth, you see it from his clenched teeth and his eyes that have become narrow and even darker. His shaft comes out glossy of your saliva, he needs a few moments to regain full control of the situation, you could take advantage of it, but you have understood that he likes to command in the bedroom and once in a while you're okay with it.

You're face down again when he slips on a condom and submerges himself completely between your warm, wet folds. You open your mouth in a frantic search for air, and he immediately pumps himself in and out of you at great speed. His curses and your grunts are getting louder and louder, you don't care to contain yourself, the pleasure you're feeling is immense, you feel your insides almost contracting from the burning pleasure, your vision becomes increasingly blurry as your orgasm approaches.

One of his hands grabs your braid pulling you slightly back towards him, while with the other he opens your legs a little more before placing it on your side and start pumping again.

“Oh, fuck . . . I'm about to come, I'm about to come,” you squeal, squeezing your eyes shut, then your climax explodes loudly.

Your orgasm lasts a few more moments as he continues to push himself into you, then with an animalistic sound he comes too.

He slowly releases his grip on your hip and he takes off your handcuffs placing his palms on either side of your face for support himself and recover from the intercourse, his nose is buried in your hair inhaling your scent.

“It was an amazin' blind date and a great ride,” he says breathlessly.

You smile, "Yeah, it was. Would you like another one?"

#Javier Peña #javier pena fic #javier peña fic #javier pena narcos #javier x you #javier peña #javier peña x reader #javier pena fanfiction #javier pena x reader #javier pena x you #javier x reader #javier x f!reader #Pedro as Javier Peña #pedro pascal #pedro boys #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal fic

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theconstantsidekick · 3 months

Text

Lit Cigarettes (Part 2)

Pairings: Dean Winchester x Reader, Sam Winchester x BestFriend!Reader, Damon Salvatore x Stefan Salvatore x Sister!Reader (these are the main ones, there are too many others to tag) Genre: Fluffy angst

Summary: While Sam berates Dean for his choice of very pathetic reply, Y/n tells her brothers about said pathetic reply.

(Set after the events of Supernatural season 4 and yes, Y/n's dated a bunch of TVD characters.)

a/n: The two conversations are happening parallel-y, hope that makes sense?

Warnings: Smoking, mentions of smoking, more romanticisation of smoking, a lot of that yes, sorry. Don't smoke kids. Semi-explicit content? IDK, there's kissing.

Part 1 is here.

It’s only when they’ve crossed the Mystic Falls border does the silence in the Impala break.

“You’re an idiot,” Sam tells him.

The car stops abruptly. “How long have you been awake?” Dean asks, taken completely off guard.

“Long enough to call you an idiot,” Sam answers before he opens the door to the back seat, exiting the vehicle. Dean takes a second to realize that Sam’s making the walk towards the passenger seat.

Dean pokes his head out of the window just to be petulant and screams, “THAT WAS A PRIVATE CONVERSATION, you sneaky son of a bitch!”

Rolling his eyes, Sam opens the passenger seat door and gets inside., “You really think I didn’t know about it?.”

“Know about what?” Dean asks as the dumbest dumb person to ever exist as he starts the car back up again.

Sam looks towards him, and his eyes are louder than any words can ever be. His eyes are screaming at him, calling him the dumbest guy to have ever walked the earth. But then he says, “She’s been in love with you for 15 years, and I’ve been her best friend for 14 of them. You really think I’d need to eavesdrop on your conversation to figure it out?”

Dean opens his mouth to say something but thinks better of it and instead asks, “14?” He’s facing the road now, too embarrassed to face his brother.

“The first year was rough, we got off on the wrong foot,” Sam explains. “I think I was mostly just pissed at her for fawning over you like you hung the moon. Not the point. The point is, I don’t need to overhear a conversation to know that she loves you. Everyone and their mother knows that she’s in love with you.”

Dean stays silent for a second, because he doesn’t know what to say. What the fuck is he supposed to say to that? He… He doesn’t know what to say to that.

“It was still rude, bitch,” Dean says lamely, because like he said, he doesn’t know what the fuck else to say.

Sam just laughs, without any humor but all the passive aggression in the world. “What was rude was saying—”

“He’ll pick you up on tuesday!?” Damon yells, mouth agape, hands covered in flour and sugar.

“And what did you say to that?!” Stefan asks from where he sits on the kitchen counter, watching his brother and his adopted sister try (and fail) baking a cake for his birthday.

“I said I’ll see him Tuesday,” Y/n answers with a magnificent amount of shame. She can see both her brothers are about to launch into an all out assault of questions, but she is categorically not in the mood. She cuts them off before they can even start. “He didn’t really give me a chance to say anything else, he just got in the car and drove off, okay?”

“Honestly, I don’t even think I can blame him,” Damon retorts, urging a cocked eyebrow from the other two Salvatores. “I blame you,” he says pointing his goop drenched whisk at her. “It’s your fault for falling in love with a NSYC reject.”

She just rolls her eyes and goes back to cleaning up the mess Damon’s creating at every step of his cake making process. “Do you really think you should be saying that? When you look like you could enter a Gerard Way Look-Alike Contest and win?”

While Damon makes the most absurd voices known to mankind (and vampire kind), Stefan just lets out a soft chuckle. “Okay, okay,” Stefan tries to calm them down. “Let’s just go over the events of the night again, shall we?”

“Can we please not?” She pleads.

Stefan carries on unfettered. “So you told Dean Winchester, the man of your dreams that you love him and he said he’ll see you Tuesday?”

She exhales audibly, “Yes… more or less. Yes. That’s how it went.”

“The fucker doesn’t deserve an announcement of love, if you ask me,” Damon counters, hands back at work, mixing the goopy and frankly probably unsalvagable cake mixture.

“That’s probably why no one asked you!” She throws back, throwing away the paper towel in the dustbin. “AAH! I just needed to say it, okay? Fifteen years is a very fucking long time to keep something like this to yourself. I needed him to know.”

“But you’d told him already, didn’t you?” Stefan counters. “Before he got dragged to hell?” She flinches at the mention of the incident—the memories are far from pleasant—but nods in agreement. “What did he say back then?”

“I know,” she tells them.

“You know what?” Damon asks, face souring at the sludge in his hands. Then he sneakily (not sneakily at all) grabs a bottle of Bourbon and empties almost half of it into the cake batter, mixing in the liquid.

“No, he said that,” she replies.

“Said what?” Stefan questions.

“He said, ‘I know’!”

A look passes between Stefan and Damon and then Damon does the honors, “If nothing else, you gotta hand it to that Timberlake-wannabe, he’s got a great track record of having the shittiest responses to someone professing their love to him.”

“What the fuck else was I supposed to say?! I was about to be dragged to Hell!” Dean defends. “It’s not like I had the ability to focus on anything else.” He’s a fucking liar—his focus was definitely not on being dragged to hell when she said what she did. But Sam doesn’t have to know that.

“Anything, man! Literally anything else!” Sam countered, frustration evident in every single inch of his movement. And it’s always times like these, when Dean begins to think if Sam would side with him if he were to actually have a fight with her. Would Sam keep hunting with him if she decided to part way? “You are such a fucking dick!” Sam remarks. So no, probably not. He’d pick her over his brother for sure.

Dean can’t help but cower a bit at the strength of Sam’s annoyance. “I wasn’t trying to be,” he tries. “I just thought… when in doubt, Han Solo that shit, you know?”

And that apparently is the worst thing to say. “What is wrong with you, Dean? You know, you really are Dad’s son! ‘Cause my God. There’s only one other man who is so incapable of handling their emotions, and somehow, you’re even worse than him.”

Dean doesn’t appreciate the insult to their father but he lets it slide on account of Sam being really fucking angry. “Fine! If you’re so great at this chick-flick shit then tell me what should I say to her. You tell me and I’ll say it to her on Tuesday?”

“Tues—seriously?!” Sam’s veins are about to pop out, Dean thinks. The man is so fucking angry with Dean right now that he’s genuinely worried that he;s about to bust the vein on his temple.

“What?” Dean throws back, cause actually he has no other fucking response.

“You know, I don’t even get what she sees in you. She’s crazy smart, and talented and funny. She’s so freakin’ funny!” Sam says, and Dean has to agree with all that. She really is. “There’s so many amazing people who’re just dying to get even one shot with her, and yet, she’s stuck on you!”

Dean’s jaw clenches. “Then why doesn’t she go after one of those amazing people?”

“I don’t have a single clue,” Sam answers.

“What do you mean? She did give it a shot with one of them, didn’t she? Derek What's His Face?” Hale. Derek Hale. Dean knows his name by heart.

“Derek Hale. Yeah, Derek was pretty great,” Sam agrees, leaning back on his seat.

“Then what happened?” Dean is trying not to sound too curious about it. And if his grip tightens on the wheel, enough for his knuckles to go white, no one has to know about it.

“I’m not sure. I thought it was going great with him but she broke it off with him when we were at Stanford,” Sam tells him, eyes out on the barren road, looking so puzzled, you’d think he was talking about the mysterious phenomenon of raining toads.

“When she dragged you to Stanford,” Dean corrects him, because as much as he'd like to know, the topic is so not his favorite. Neither is this one but it’s… It’s older and the wounds have since healed, become scars.

At his words, Sam’s confusion is gone in an instant. He sits up straighter—as straight as a giant can in a ‘67 chevy Impala. He turns to Dean with something like defense burning in his eyes. “She didn’t drag me to Stanford, Dean!”

“Yeah, right,” Dean brushes it off. “You and I both know, that’s some horseshit. She went there and you wanted to follow her, like you always did.”

“No. Dean,” Sam calls his name in a way that urges him to turn. Once he does, Sam continues, “I didn’t follow her to Stanford. I—I didn’t go to Stanford for her, she went to Stanford for me!”

“What?”

“Dude, she was the valedictorian. She got into 20 different Pre-Med programs, and at least 12 of them were better than Stanford. She just went there cause she knew I wanted to go,” Sam word hit Dean like a tonne of bricks. “And well,” Sam turns back to look at the road again. “She also kinda went there for you.”

“For me?” The fuck is that supposed to mean?

Sam sighs before he says, “She thought that maybe if she were there it would be easier on you cause you’d know that she was there to look out for me.” He smiles then, a small sweet thing. “She went there for you.” What the actual fucking fuck?

Sam turns to him again, and somehow “Don’t get me wrong, she went there for me, but she went there for you too. Everything she does, she does for you.”

“That is—and I say this with all the love I have ‘cause you’re the only Salvatore left other than that dick over there—that is the most pathetic thing I’ve ever heard,” Damon comments.

She pushes a buttered up cake tin towards him and says, “Must be a genetic trait then, passed down from generations. Seeing as the only other Salvatores I know are still, to this day, hopelessly chasing after a girl who looks exactly like one Katherine Pierce.”

“ELENA IS NOTHING LIKE KATHERINE!” Both her brothers shout out in unison.

She has to smile at that. “Not even the—” she points at her own face as a demonstration.

Both of them just pass her a look filled with ire. She smiles wider.

“At least we have hope,” Damon defends, pouring the ungodly mixture into the cake tin. “What’s your fucking excuse?”

“I don’t have one!” She really doesn’t. “I just—I just feel the way I do, I don’t know what to do about it.”

“Move on!” Damon tells her.

“For once I agree with him,” Stefan says from the counter behind them. His words are softer than Damon’s, they always are. Stefan’s always understood her dilemma just a little bit better than Damon. She thinks it might just be because Stefan understands the feeling of helplessness a little bit better than their brother ever can. “You really should move on.”

“I want to,” she tells him, with all honesty. “I really, really want to. Don’t you think I’ve tried? I tried! With Derek, with Alaric… and it was working. It really was, until he rejected me.”

“Rejected you?” Damon mocks. “I think it was barely 4 months ago that Alaric died in your arms confessing his undying love for you.”

“Damon,” Stefan reprimands.

“What?” Damon counters, clearly annoyed as he turns to look at Stefan. Stefan, however, just shakes his head, telling him in his small gesture to stop it. The wound is still too fresh, don’t touch it yet. And that’s exactly why despite being fond of Damon a little bit more, Stefan will always be her favorite brother.

“I am not ready to touch that topic with a ten-foot pole so I’ll side step that and tell you that I have tried, extremely hard to move on, and if I could do it. I would. It’s not like any of this is fun for me,” she tries to make them understand.

“It’s not as hard as you make it out to be either,” Damon comments and his voice is somehow softer than before because this isn’t a jab. This is more wishful thinking, she thinks. Damon, for all his nonchalance, hates seeing her pining for Dean. Not just because he doesn’t like Dean but also because he’s seen the most of it. He has always been her drinking companion on endless nights. Pouring her one drink after the other, knowing no other way to sooth the pain on her features. He loves her differently than Stefan does. He would’ve killed Dean by now if he thought that could be a legitimate solution. He’s way more violent in his protection of her than anyone else.

Taking the cake tin from Damon, she opens the oven and shoves it in. She sighs audibly before she says, “Look, I have made my distaste for the Elena situation quite clear already—”

“And it’s still fucking unreasonable,” Damon retorts.

“You’re making me agree with him twice on the night before my birthday, now you’re just being rude,” Stefan chides, smiling.

“She pulls you both in opposite directions, which leaves me in the middle where I’m stuck and neglected!” She can see that both the boys are ready to fight her off on the matter all night but she doesn’t want to. “BUT that’s not the point I’m trying to make here. What I am trying to say is that, with Elena, you both feel what you feel. It’s undeniable and inescapable. You could let go of it even if you tried. You both know what it feels like to be hopelessly in love with someone with your entire being.” When both men stay silent, she knows they agree. So she continues, “Can you at least both do me the courtesy to try to understand that that’s how I feel about Dean? That maybe—”

“—She doesn’t know how not to be in love with you, you know?” Sam says it like it’s the simplest thing in the world. Like he isn’t breaking Dean’s world apart in half. “I mean, it’s definitely not easy for her.”

“Watching him flirt with a girl at the bar while I sit in a shady corner, drowning myself in Bourbon,” she says.

“Watching you come back to the motel, covered in hickeys, and sometimes watching you not come back at all,” Sam says with so much pain, Dean thinks maybe he sat with her on those nights. And then it clicks for Dean why he’d see his brother with bags under his eyes in the mornings after.

Her jaw clenches, she fidgets with the “It's always someone else. Either it’s a cheerleader or—”

“—A receptionist at a motel or anything with a pulse at a bar,” Sam says.

“It’s always someone else and it’s never me,” she notes solemnly.

“And it is so fucking painful to watch,” Sam notes.

“It feels like someone’s tearing my heart out and stabbing it in front of me with a fork just to play with it.” She can’t help but smile sadly at the accuracy of that description. “He smiles those smiles that charms the pants off of everyone. And I have to see it, because try as I might, I can never look away. I can never look away from the way he touches them because I can’t help but imagine how it would feel like to be touched like that… touched like that by him. I can never look away when he smiles like that. Which just ends up hurting a little bit more.”

“I’ve had to watch it over and over again for a decade and if it hurts me this much I can’t even imagine how much it hurts her,” Sam tsks so simply. As if he isn’t burning Dean from the inside out.

“I just wish he—”

“Weren’t so loud about it. If you weren’t so loud about it I think it would be easier maybe?” Sam muses. “But then again, maybe it wouldn’t be. Not that she’d ask that of you, she knows it’s not fair to you so she would never ask you to be any other way than you…” And then he sits up again, facing Dean, and Dean has to try his best to keep his poker face intact, “But I can! So, I’ll do it for her—Dean, please can you be just a little less loud about it?” Dean turns to Sam at that and somehow the action is mistaken by Sam as an offended one. “I’m not asking you to change, just… I don’t know, just don’t do it in front of her. Don’t flirt with the cheerleaders while she’s sitting right next to you, you know?”

And man, Dean might be the one whose vein is about to pop now. “What is up with this cheerleader bullshit? She said it too? I wasn’t that fucking back in high-school!”

Sam just sighs in annoyance, “You ignored her Dean.” Dean’s about to protest, but Sam cuts him off. “And I don’t think it was intentional on your part. It was the first time you weren’t an outcast and it was so much fun to fit in, I felt that way too. But she… She was two years ahead of people her age. And that really doesn’t fly well in a small town like Mystic Falls, you know that. I mean, you were in her class, man! You know that the only person who ever talked to her was you but then you got so lost in the high-school of it all that you just ignored her.” Sam shakes his head. “It wasn’t your fault, you were young but it really wasn’t fun to watch either.”

“I didn’t mean to,” Dean defends very very lamely. “I never meant to hurt her, ever.”

“That’s what sucks about all of this. I know he never does any of it to hurt me, but…”

“But it still hurts anyway?” Damon provides, comforting and gentle.

She nods with a sad broken smile as she says, "To be in love—”

“—And to be hurt, is to be made perfect,” Sam quotes.

“Shakespear, As You Like It,” Dean notes, to Sam’s utter surprise. Which, wow! He reads! And besides, it’s… it’s Y/n’s favorite of the Shakespear plays. Of course, he knows what it’s from.

“Sucks that it has to be this way,” Sam notes calmly, now looking out the window at the passing trees. “I know it’s not your fault, I really do. I also know you really care about her. I know that too. But I just wish I didn’t have to watch my best friend be in love with someone who doesn’t love her back.”

Dean’s had enough. He sees red. “WHO THE FUCK SAID THAT?”

“What?” Sam almost balks at Dean’s sudden outburst.

“You and Y/n keep saying that, again and again, and for all that is un-fucking-holy, I can’t fucking figure out who the fuck said that? Who in the name of fuck told you that?”

“Dean—Dude! What are you talking about?” Sam’s eyes are wide and confused.

Goddamn it, Dean thinks. “Who the fuck told you, EITHER OF YOU, that I don’t feel the same way?”

There is silence then.

It stretches on for a minute but it feels like an hour to Dean.

“Are—are you serious?” Sam finally questions.

Dean clenches his jaw. “You don’t think I have better things to lie about than this?” He’s being snarky but he can’t help it. It’s been a long fucking drive.

“Then—” Suddenly Sam’s excitement level shoot the fuck up. “THEN WHAT THE FUCK ARE WE DOING DRIVING AWAY FROM MYSTIC FALLS?”

There are reasons. Dean knows that there are. There was a solid reason why Dean decided to drive away after dropping her off without saying a (meaningful) word. But try as he might, Dean Winchester, cannot for the life of him remember what the fuck it was.

He clicks his tongue, “Good question,” Dean comments before his hand finds the gear shift, and he swerves the car around.

“I am just saying that you cannot ignore it. It’s not a fictional concept. There have been countless tests on the subject matter,” Y/n argues. They’re at the Salvatore Boarding House and the party is in full swing. She’s got a glass of Bourbon in one hand and an unlit cigarette on the other.

“On rats,” Bonnie throws back, smiling.

“Dogs too,” Matt adds from behind her. She smiles at him for the support.

“That doesn’t mean it works on humans,” Tyler cuts in from the couch.

“Of course it does. It’s not a baseless theory. It’s the core facet of every training, ever. You do something good, you’re rewarded, you do something bad, you’re punished,” she explains. “Some people even go as far as to call it parenting.”

Everyone lets out a soft laugh.

“But it doesn’t stick, not always at least,” Caroline counters.

Y/n nods, “Fair enough, it doesn’t. But doesn’t negate the fact that the pavlovian response is quite a real phenomenon. I mean, it’s well known. It’s quite literally used in conversion camps—mind you I do not approve of the abhorrent abuse of it—but that’s what they do. They show you something very straight, that according to their disturbing homophobic beliefs should make you feel aroused and don’t shock you. Then they show you something very gay, that makes you feel aroused and then they shock you. It tells your brain that somehow feeling aroused at this particular thing is dangerous. Then they do it again and again and eventually the entire process just trains your brain to be scared shitless of even thinking of being aroused, because well if you do, you’ll get—”

“Electrocuted,” Elena finishes.

Y/n clicks her finger and points at her. “Doesn’t work though,” she states, as someone plucks the cigarette out of her hand but her point is almost at the end of being made. “Doesn’t stop you from being queer, nothing ever can stop you from being queer.” The cigarette is placed back into her hands. “Queer is who you are, and queer is who you fucking should be.”

She takes a drag.

“Amen.”

Y/n turns instantly at the sound of that voice.

“Dean,” she breathes out.

Dean Winchester and her lit fucking cigarettes.

It’ll be the death of her.

“I thought you had a quota of like 5 cuss words a day,” Dean says with a smirk. Somewhere behind him she can see Sam but her world doesn’t really know how to focus on anyone else when Dean is standing so close to her—barely a couple inches between the two. “I thought you would’ve used them all up… after the conversation in the car.”

“It’s past 12,” she tells him dumbly. She can’t be blamed. WHY IS DEAN BACK HERE? It’s not Tuesday, is it?

There’s a few seconds there, which are just silent. He’s looking at her and she’s looking at him and it’s just silent. Sure, there must be a party in the background but she doesn’t really remember it. His eyes are so beautifully green, she can’t think of anything but The Great Gatsby. She can’t think of anything but the green light at the end of Daisy Buchanan's dock across the bay from Gatsby's mansion. The green light which represented Gatsby's hopes and dreams, particularly his longing for a future with Daisy.

“What are you—” she begins at the same time as he says, “I wanted to—”

Their words get jumbled up.

“You go first,” Dean suggests.

She gulps, quite noticeably apparently because Dean follows the motion of her throat with his eyes. “What are you doing here?”

He smiles then, unabashed and wide. “I should have gone first. Would have saved us time. I was gonna say that I wanted to talk to you…” he answers her question.

“Oh,” is all she can muster.

“Can we do that somewhere… not here?” He nods over to the audience they have gathered.

She wants to look at what he’s motioning towards but she can’t really pull her eyes off of him right now. Instead she just says, “Yes… The courtyard.”

Dean nods and looks at her waiting.

What’s he waiting for?

Until Dean just raises his brows with a soft smile and then she remembers.

“Oh yes, courtyard, let’s go,” she says. And she’s about to grab his arm to drag him off but realizes that both of them are full. She looks from the cigarette to the beer. Thinks for a second—decision made, she downs the beer and places the bottle on the closest flat surface.

“What are you doing here?” She asks again once they’re at the courtyard. They are face to face again, but she has actively decided to put a couple of steps worth of distance between herself and the man of her dreams. For precaution.

“I had to see you,” Dean replies.

“Thought you were gonna see me Tuesday,” she chastises with very little heat, taking a drag of her cigarette.

But apparently Dean takes it to heart. “That—yes! That’s what I am here for. That is the stupidest thing I have ever said. Actually, no scratch that, that’s the second dumbest thing I’ve ever said, ‘I know’ is first.” Confused, she scrunches her forehead. So he explains, “When I was being dragged to hell?”

“Oh,” makes sense, she muses. She shrugs then another puff before she says, “When in doubt, go with Han Solo.”

Dean shakes his head but he’s wearing a smile which she can’t really place. “Yes but it—it was dumb, and I’m sorry.”

“No, no, Dean. No. I am sorry. I put you in a very weird position at a very, very wrong time. It was my fault,” she tells him, and she means it. “Even today, I dropped a whole freakin’ bomb on you without any preamble. Your response made sense considering the condition. I’m sorry to have put you in that position to begin with.”

“Don’t be sorry,” Dean says and his words carry so much determination it makes her shiver.

She waves it off or well, tries to. She has to take a couple steps back, pulling her arms across her chest, she leans on the steps just behind her. She takes a long drag before she asks, “Is that what you were here to do? Say sorry for your response?”

Dean nods. “Yes, and to ask you,” he takes a few steps towards her, “I had to ask you…”

“Ask me?” She urges.

“Did you mean it?”

And she has to roll her eyes at that, drawing on her cigarette again. “What kinda question is that?”

“A serious one,” Dean says evenly.

“Fine, yes. Of course, I meant it.”

“You don’t regret it?” Dean questions.

“What?! No!” The idea seems so silly to her she can’t even come up with a sarcastic remark for it.

“And you still feel that way?” Dean asks, with a hint of… is that fear in his voice? “Do you still…?”

The night is quite forgiving to them. The moon is out but not in full force, otherwise there would be one less party guest and one extra dog in the boarding house. Her birthday party fell on a full moon night, sadly the patent group werewolf, Tyler, had to skip that one.

But tonight’s not a full moon, it’s a crescent moon. Shining quite bright, bathing Dean in its light. That along with the warm yellow of the garden lights makes him look ethereal, she thinks.

“15 years I’ve loved you, you think I’ll be able to get over it in three hours?” She throws back.

“A yes or no would do,” Dean rebukes.

“Yes,” she says, sighing. “I still feel that way… but…”

“But?”

“But I think… I think I’ll try to move on…” she acquiesces, a long inhale of smoke, a shorter exhale of the same.

“Why?” Dean bites.

She pulls back a bit before answering, “I understand that the position I put you in isn’t entirely fair. And well, it isn’t great for me either, is it? It would be better for both of us if I just tried to move on… for good this time.”

“Don’t.”

“What?”

“Don’t move on, damn it!”

And that just pisses her off, she throws the cigarette on the ground, butts it with all her fury. “What? Is this some sort of fucking ego trip for you? Look at the hopeless girl in love with me?”

“2 out of 5 cuss words already used. The day’s barely started and you’re left with only 3,” Dean comments with a smile that makes her want to punch his lights out.

“Quit it!” She yells. “You just making fun of me now? That’s just fucking cruel, Dean.”

“2 left,” Dean states but at her glare he takes another step towards her. “I don’t want you to move on.”

“Why the fuck not?!” She’ll probably punch this guy very soon.

“Cause I don’t want you to.”

“Why not? You just want me to stay madly in love with you, keep watching you chase after girls at bars and keep letting my heart break? You want me to keep dying bit by bit, is that it?” Her voice breaks a little at the end.

“No. Of course not! But if you moved on, it would kill me, so I can’t let you do that, Y/n. I can’t.” Dean tells her.

She doesn’t understand any of this. What even is happening.

“I think you’ve finally lost your mind. Hell has clearly gotten to you. You’ve gone mad! What do you want me to do, keep falling deeper and deeper in love with you, torment myself day in and day out when I know that you will never love me back. What is wrong with you, Dean? What the f—”

“Listen to me,” he cuts her off. “You really need to listen to me cause you’ve got just one cuss word left for the day and what I’m gonna say you might need it for that.” He breathes in, slow and deep. “I never said that.”

“Never said what?”

“I never said that I didn’t love you back.”

She… What?

Wait what?

“What do you mea—?”

He cuts her off again. “I saw you 15 minutes before you saw me.” She’s so confused she thinks she might just cry. And it’s all made worse because Dean takes a few steps closer to her. The gap is nowhere near as secure as it was when this conversation began. “I was getting out of the car and you were…” He smiles, so beautifully that her heart aches. “You were smoking, of all things. At the ripe old age of 13, by the way.”

“My parents had just died like, 6 months ago,” she defends like it matters at all.

Dean smiles all the same. “Smoking your first cigarette. That’s how I saw you, and you were—you were smoking that like a champ, honestly. I think you took four drags, before you decided it was too much and then butt the entire thing. You then began your mission to hide it like they were porno mags under your bed that Stefan and Damon could discover any moment.”

“Porno mags would’ve caused less trouble,” she comments absentmindedly.

He smiles wider then. “Fair enough.” He nods almost to himself. “But yeah. I saw you 15 minutes before you ever saw me. So, I’ve been in love with you 15 minutes longer than your 15 years.”

She doesn’t think she remembers how breathing works.

“I have been in love with you since the moment I saw you. And every single day I wake up and I think I could not love you more but then something happens, you laugh at some joke or you talk about how democracy is a concept built on the idea of inequality, or you sing karaoke at some bar or you just are, you just be and I just… I fall harder in love with you. Every moment I spend with you, is another moment where I find out that I can love you more than I already did.” Dean laughs then. “I was stupid, I was so stupid. I kept thinking that I couldn’t have you. I kept thinking that I shouldn’t even try because what would be the point? I was never gonna quit hunting and this life—it’s filled with so much shit. I thought there was something really bad around the corner, so how could I drag you into that mess with me? So I just—I never thought that I could have you but then I died! I fucking died, Y/n. And now apparently there is a goddamn apocalypse around the corner so clearly bad things will happen no matter what! Then why the fuck should I have to go through all of that alone? Why should I have to go through that without you? I can’t do it. I don’t fucking want to.”

He doesn’t want to.

She’s dreaming, isn’t she?

“I didn’t know, though,” Dean says sheepishly, with apologies all over his face. “I never fucking knew how you felt. Of course I didn’t know. I wouldn’t have—All the girls, all the bars, they were just—I didn’t think I could have you, I didn’t think you’d ever want someone like me so I wanted to numb the pain, I never thought I was hurting you in return. I wouldn’t have—”

She takes a step towards him. They are now standing too close, chest pressed into chest. “It’s okay.”

“It’s not,” Dean argues, still feeling so guilty that it’s almost painful to watch.

“It’s okay now,” she clarifies. “Do I get to have you now?”

“Obviously! Of course! I’m yours. I’ve always been yours, Y/n. Only yours—”

She cuts him off by pressing her lips on his. It’s a small, tentative thing, mostly to try it out, but also to shut him up. And shut up, he does.

She pulls away, not too far, never too far, just enough to look up at him.

Then Dean Winchester smiles. Wide, and cocky, and flirty and beautiful.

He pulls her back in, hands on caressing her jaw so gently that a part of her thinks maybe she was made of porcelain all along and everyone forgot to inform her. Because he is being so soft with her, his lips on hers are tender but there is so much love in every movement that she can taste it.

Her hands find his hair, and she plays with the soft spikes, pulling him closer, and perhaps it’s her hunger for him or maybe his for her, but tenderness gives way to passion. They are all hands and lips and desperation. He’s grabbing onto her for dear life, pulling her closer and closer as he wants her whole and maybe he does. She understands though, because she’s holding onto his leather jacket like if she lets go he’ll vanish and urging him closer too. It’s mindless and mindful at once.

Lips slotted together seaking out all that they’d been wanting for, for the last 15 years.

Dean’s hand travels down to her thighs and instinctively she knows to jump up. He grabs her easily as she wraps her legs around him. It’s hungry now, they are so very hungry now. It makes her moan, Dean, ever the man of opportunity, takes that moment to slip his tongue in. Their tongues dance together in a heated embrace. She can’t help herself, she’s seeking some release from the tension building inside her, so she grinds against him, only for both of them to pull away, moaning in sickening pleasure.

And she can’t help it, she laughs. “Fuck.”

Dean laughs too. Pressing his forehead to hers. “That’s all of them, sweetheart. You’re out of cuss words for today.”

“That might be a problem considering the state you’re in,” she grinds against him again, to tease him, to feel him, to have him, cause she can now.

Dean groans before smiling again. “Fuck me, sweetheart. I can cuss all I want, you’re the one who’ll be in trouble.”

“Maybe I want that?” She smiles.

Dean laughs again. “God, I love you so fucking much.”

She kisses him again, it’s a sweet, loving little thing. “I love you too, Dean.

Find Part 1 here.

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escapist-of-fiction · 2 months

Text

Title: Let the games begin. Pairing: Troy Otto x OC Evie

Summary: Lots of these one shot scenes take place in the infirmary on the Ranch, potentially other locations further down the line. Pre-apocalypse Evie was a med student in her third year, so knew enough to adopt this role when she arrived. Troy is obviously a regular visitor because, well, he's Troy and he's one, hot mess and chaos seems to follow him around. I guess this is the beginning of their slow burn relationship. Up until this point, Evie and Troy had not really had a reason to speak to each other or spend time together. All it takes is one small decision, and the rest is history.

Dislaimer: I will use characters from the Fear The Walking Dead series and some details from the show but that's as far as it goes really. This will mostly be an original plot. ---------------------------------------------------------------

It had been forty eight hours since the Militia had left the ranch and, when Evie had bumped into Jake during lunch earlier that day, he had seemed unperturbed by the group's absence.

"Evie, this is a regular thing. Troy goes off on idiotic missions to satisfy his curiosity. Things take a little longer than planned." He paused, forkful of pasta halfway to his mouth as he eyed her suspiciously, "Why do you care so much?"

She tried to ignore it but Evie could hear the underlying tone of 'who do you care about?' as well. Placing her hands on her hips, she scowled and answered without so much as skipping a beat,

"As resident Medic, amongst other job roles, surely it's my duty to care?" Jake immediately smiled in surrender.

"Point taken. Listen, if I know Troy as well as I do, he'll have them back by sundown."

-----------

On the quiet days, everyone milled around the ranch completing their jobs, busying themselves with idle chit chat. Evie, personally hated those days. Time moved incredibly slowly and it gave her too much time to think, about what could have been and what the future held. A monotonous task, like taking a medical supply inventory and basing herself in the medic tent, kept her occupied until the familiar skidding of tyres on gravel sounded at the main gate. Listening carefully, she heard the regular shouts of greeting from friends and family alike. No one sounded like they were raising the alarm for any emergencies. She continued with her job, seemingly satisfied with the outcome.

She found the Militia still unloading the trucks a little while later. Evie nodded at a few of the more familiar faces, hauling barrels off the back of a truck,

"Where did you end up this time?" She asked. George, one of the older and more established members of the Militia paused to fill her in,

"We went a bit further afield, past the two main towns, found an abandoned warehouse. It must have been a clothes supplier once upon a time. Then Troy decided it would be a good idea to chase down a herd." Evie nodded in understanding, she knew how that story always ended and didn't need him to finish. She sighed.

"Where is he now?"

"He headed towards the pantry with Jake. We managed to raid a store on our way back."

With a little nod, Evie headed in that direction, her pace quickening as she got nearer overhearing raised voices. Jake and Troy stood facing one another, deep in their heated discussion, surrounded by the boxes of supplies that they had just carried across the yard. Jake was staring furiously at Troy, who looked almost bemused by his brother's overreaction.

"Christ, Troy. What were you thinking?" Jake hissed, gesturing wildly in the trucks' direction, "They are our people, they have families. We don't go searching for danger for the hell of it. Do that on your own time!"

Troy scuffed his boot in the dirt and folded his arms across his chest indignantly before responding,

"Stick to being the house wife of this ranch, Jakey. What I do with the Militia on our missions is my business." A smug sense of satisfaction washed over Troy as he watched his brother twitch in annoyance. He didn't like this 'tit for tat' arguing but his brother's constant need to be the responsible one riled him to no end.

Evie could see this had hit a nerve with Jake instantly so decided it might be a good time to take it upon herself and interrupt them.

Up until now, neither of them had been aware of Evie's presence, so her sudden approach startled them both and distracted them from the heat of the moment, fortunately.

"What's wrong?" Jake huffed, hoping nothing serious had happened but equally looking for a reason to walk away from his brother before he really lost it with him. Evie felt she needed to think quickly for an answer or it would seem a bit odd that she had approached them in the first instance. She wasnt even sure why she had gone to seek Troy out in the first place. She found a reason soon enough as she cast a glance over Troy, who was staring at her inquisitively.

"You need that wound treated," she said, pointledly nodding at his hand that he had obviously tried patching up himself, which was now dripping with blood. Troy lifted his hand dismissively,

"This old thing? It'll be fine once I've washed up." Evie marched up to him and grabbed his wounded arm, holding it up for inspection. This bold movement from the medic, stunned both men into silence. Evie wasn't known for her forwardness, in fact, it was rare to see her outside of the infirmary at all most days.

"By my reckoning, you treated this wound yourself and you've done a terrible job of it. So unless you want it to get infected? Infirmary now." Evie didn't wait for a response from Troy. She simply took a hold of his good hand and pulled him in the direction of the medical tent, leaving Jake staring after them, a little perplexed.

Neither of them spoke at first. Evie tapped the empty bed and Troy hopped up obediently. She began to unwrap a roll of gauze and make a solution to disinfect the wound. He watched her every move carefully, enjoying the way Evie's nimble fingers treated his injury with effortless care. Evie, on the other hand, was completely unaware of Troy watching her, she was too engrossed with the task in hand. She unwrapped the scrappy fabric, now caked in dried blood, that he had twisted around the cut to stop the bleeding. She threw it in the nearby bin and held Troy's hand up to study it carefully in the daylight that was now seeping in through the tent's doorway as the afternoon reached it's peak.

"You know I could have sorted this out myself back home..." Pausing the careful treatment of his hand, Evie locked eyes with Troy, an eyebrow raised as she responded,

"You're welcome?" Her sarcasm earned a wry smile from Troy.

"You know that's not what I meant. As much as I'm enjoying this little Florence Nightingale routine, I'm not sure what I've done to deserve this treatment. Other than being a dick to my brother back there."

"Well," Evie began, winding the bandage around Troy's hand tight enough to watch him wince ever so slightly, "as I said to your brother earlier; it is my duty to care for everyone - even stubborn, reluctant patients like yourself." She lifted her gaze from Troy's hand and found him staring at her intently. Evie felt the heat to rise to her cheeks. "Anyway, " she babbled on, "You are in charge of the ranch and we kind of need you alive in order to keep it running. Sort of." She placed Troy's hand gently down at his side. "There. That's you all patched up."

Troy turned his hand over, seemingly impressed with her handy work.

"Thanks Medic. Permission to leave?" A tiny smile spread across Evie's face at Troy's gentle teasing.

"Permission granted," she said, playing along with a little chuckle, stepping aside to let him past. She soon realised that there wasn't a lot of room in the Medic tent as Troy sidled past her so closely that his body briefly brushed up against Evie's.

What was most alarming was how her body reacted to the physical contact with Troy, however fleeting it may have been. She watched him lift the canvas and duck out of the tent, stepping into the sunlight and she exhaled slowly, realising she had been holding her breath. She waited for the tingling sensation in her stomach to subside, a mixed feeling of confusion and realisation washing over her.

And it was in that moment that it dawned on Evie...she was falling for Troy Otto.

#daniel sharman fic #daniel sharman #romantic #troy otto fanfic #troy otto x reader #troy otto x fem reader #fear the walking dead #ftwd #slow burn #new beginnings #first chapter #first contact

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jishyucks · 1 year

Text

Gloves & Dittany (Teaser) ‣ cyj

‣ pairing: slytherin!yeonjun x gryffindor!reader

‣ genre: fluff, hogwarts!au, idiots-to-lovers (on reader’s part), sorta slice-of-life

‣ teaser wc: 1.1k

‣ final wc: expected 11k+, currently 9k

‣ summary: ❝Sure, your heart might have skipped a beat or two because of Yeonjun, but it was just a momentary flutter, a reaction that didn't hold any significant meaning… Right?❞

↳ Alternatively, where Yeonjun’s flirtatious nature leaves you no choice but to doubt his evident feelings for you and, in turn, dismiss any emotions you may be developing for him

‣ warnings?: reader is just,,, confused all the time, prob poor attempts of 'flirting' bc idk how to flirt, side characters may potentially be more entertaining than the mains, otherwise nothing really!

‣an: first long yeonjun ficccc,, I'm excited! this has been sitting in my docs for so long too,,, the teaser might be a bit boring just cause i don't want to give it all away just yetttt—it's just an intro to the pair!

‣ tags: @flowerjun (let me know if you want to be tagged!)

Over the years you've spent at Hogwarts, your love for Herbology has blossomed into a deep passion. Contrary to what your peers say about the class being boring and useless, you believe they couldn't be more wrong. Herbology is an underrated and misunderstood subject that offers unique elements not found in other classes.

At first glance, certain plants looked welcoming, but from what you’ve learned, the most attractive herbs can be the most deadliest. This could even work the other way around. Growth patterns of the plants can directly affect its magical properties, which explains why the professors created emphasis on the care for plants.

Although Herbology looked like any other ordinary subject at Hogwarts, there were a lot more layers to its content. You suppose this was the reason why you grew to love the subject.

“What’s the difference between you and those flowers over there?”

Enter Choi Yeonjun. The main reason why advanced Herbology isn't the perfect class for you, and you mean that in the kindest way possible. Yeonjun is something else. While you hope to simply enjoy the class, he sees it as an opportunity to engage in endless conversation. You once joked with him that his voice could win a competition against a mandrake for being the most ear-piercing, but, surprisingly, he took no offense to this.

To make matters worse, a significant portion of his chatter is dedicated to shamelessly flirting with you. Despite months of this routine, he always finds new ways to keep things interesting, and you have to admit, it's quite impressive.

It was strange how all this had even started. You and Yeonjun were only familiar with each other because he was childhood friends with your fellow house member, Changbin. But after an encounter with the pair at Hogsmeade, Yeonjun started becoming quite adamant about making his presence known to you. And regardless of his motives and advances, you’ve, since then, been choosing not to indulge in his actions.

If you were given a knut every time someone asked you why you never gave him a chance, you’d be rich. Hell, you’d be bathing in galleons if you did, because this was Choi Yeonjun we were talking about. The one and only Choi Yeonjun who could practically steal hearts without the use of some silly charm pulled straight out of a textbook. He was reasonably one of the most attractive guys in the entirety of Hogwarts and his personality was one to adore, so you weren’t surprised with the persistent interrogation of those interested in him.

Though every question was worded differently, each one becoming more and more creative than the last, you hit them with the same, lazy explanation that you knew never left them satisfied.

“I just don’t see him in that way.”

Yeonjun stands by your side, hands comfortably nestled in gloves, which completely disregards Professor Longbottom's instructions that the gloves were not necessary for today's class. He looked ridiculous being the only one wearing the heavy-duty gloves. You hold back a laugh as your gaze follows his pointing finger, which leads you to a cluster of asphodels.

You look up at him, “One is an accessory to a deadly sleeping potion.” You’re cleaning up your area, making sure dirt is only where it was supposed to be.

“Y/N, c’mon~” Yeonjun whines, “Just play along.”

“Okay,” you huff, “What is it?”

Yeonjun stands quietly for a short moment, lips pressed together, “Now you made me forget what I was going to say, but it was something about you being pretty.” Yeonjun turns to put some pots away, leaving you unamused.

Although Yeonjun continues to make such advances, you admit that his playful personality was endearing. Just a few months ago, you regarded Yeonjun as nothing more than an annoyance, constantly looming around even when unwelcome, sort of like a wedgie. However, as time passed, you couldn't deny the odd bond that had formed between the two of you.

Just recently, you had reluctantly admitted to yourself that he’s grown on you to the point where you realize that the day would feel incomplete without his babbling. On a good day, you might even consider him your friend.

When Yeonjun returns, he flashes you a smile, “Do you have any plans for the weekend? Maybe I can take you to Hogsmeade.” He bends down slightly and reaches out, “You have a bit of dirt on your nose.” You feel his finger graze your nose for a quick second before it’s back at his side.

“I’m afraid I already do,” you hummed. Since the period has ended, you grab your belongings and take your leave. With no surprise, Yeonjun is trailing closely behind you.

Yeonjun’s lips were moulded into some sort of pout, brows furrowed, “Maybe the week after?”

“I have plans that week, too,” you say promptly, though you weren’t even entirely sure if you did, “Sorry, Yeonjun.”

Yeonjun narrows his eyes at you but you don’t catch him doing so. Instead, you’re dead set on finding your best friend Yena by the courtyard. Before Yeonjun could let out a sigh, he takes a big step forward and spins so that he’s facing you. Yeonjun executes this with ease. He’s quick on his feet and the next thing you know you’re walking into his chest.

“Don’t apologize.” Yeonjun grabs your wrist and swiftly pulls you to the edge of the hallway so you both aren't blocking the stream of students, “There’s always another week…” He pushes his lips towards one side of his face, eyes looking to the side. He was deep in thought, “Maybe you can come to the final game of the season? I know your house isn’t playing but it would be nice to have the support… I’ll even let you wear one of my extra uniforms… maybe some facepaint?” Yeonjun’s eyes light up at the thought.

“Yeonjun,” you say sternly.

“As a friend?” Yeonjun’s head is tilted to the side, brows knitting as he brings his lips into a pout, “Please?” His eyes pour into yours, making it hard for you to avoid his gaze. He’s waiting intently on a reply.

“I’ll… think about it,” You stall.

Yeonjun smiles, satisfied with your answer. Before he speaks up once again, he hears his name being called from across the hall. It was Wooyoung.

“I’ll see you later, beautiful~”

You groan and call out before you’re out of ear’s reach, “What did I tell you about pet names, Choi Yeonjun!”

Yeonjun turns to acknowledge you, but instead of saying anything to excuse himself, he sends you a wink before reaching his friend.

As expected.

°•. ✿ .•°

pls remember that this is a teaser and I'll be posting the full fic soon! thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed it! let me know if you'd like to be added to the taglist!

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thereisnolumos · 10 months

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darklina thoughts: I wanted to get into the shadow and bone Fandom(books and show) because of the amazing gif set of the darklina kiss I saw

Like who are these two that are sharing such a beautiful kiss. And look so aesthically pleasing together with the darkness and light vibes. I was so excited to find out who these two were because these kind of ships are my everything. Than I find out and 😨😱😤😠🤬!!!!! It was like running full steam a head with tons of excitement and crashing face first into a wall when I find out everything about this Fandom. Both about the books and show. The author and this beautiful ship. And I'm like God why do authors do this ship. Tease us with everything we want and the full potential. But than do a completely one 80 and waste are time on things we don't care about, or find insulting or toxic, and tells us are tastes are dumb and toxic. So now I just read fics and look at beautiful art of Darklina and the potential they could have been. It's just so annoying because this stuff happens all the time!!! And don't get me started on what I heard about the author. I don't know if their true. And wish I could find out real stuff about her. But if it is. God she is so messed up for doing this to us.

I only got in the fandom bcs I randomly saw a teaser for the first season and Ben Barnes was there in all his dark glory. I knew nothing about the books, but the way that show was promoted I was expecting the epic dark romance, villain who’s not really a villain gets the girl all the vibe. Plus cool world build and complicated detailed story overall.

I got none of that.

That show was interesting and hopeful for the first 5 episodes (we will always have 1x05🖤). It wasn’t as detailed and complex as I expected, but it had potential and the main pair - the one they based THE ENTIRE promotion on by the way - was having one of the most fiery and spark inducing chemistry I’ve ever seen on the screen, so I kept my hopes up for the overall plot and focused on them. And then… then they backpedaled SO HARD on everything that made that show interesting for the broad audience, I wonder how they didn’t give themselves a whiplash… though considering the horrible quality of s2 they probably did

Though I didn’t like the way s1 ended, I still thought there is hope, and “we need a conflict for our main pair, I guess”. I truly, wholeheartedly believed that creators and writers of the show are not complete idiots and know how to read the room and what the most of their audience is there for, so that’s what they’ll deliver. But oh my, how wrong I was.

The second season is downright unwatchable with how horrifyingly terrible it is. I only suffered through the entire thing for Ben, who, bless his heart, tried his hardest to deliver the complexity and depth of his character, who he only agreed to play if they “won’t make him a cardboard villain”. And they did exactly that in s2, or tried to, bcs Ben Barnes and his talent didn’t let them, despite all their efforts. The rest of the cast I guess didn’t have enough experience to fix the worst writing imaginable with their acting, so most of the characters became absolutely bland and uninteresting and SO IDIOTICALLY STUPUD, I yelled at them constantly, scaring my cat the entire time.

Also, as much as I understand it from exploring the fandom, the creators and writers of the show are die hard fans of the Crows, and they don’t actually like Alina’s trilogy at all. So… why didn’t they just do the books they wanted I’ll never know. Instead, they forced the Crows in the plot they were never a part of (making all of them okay with selling a girl to slavery in the process. Despite one of them being the former slave and the other one being the one who got her out of it… make it make sense, I beg of you), in the second season they wasted SO MUCH time on their plot lines that 1)didn’t matter one bit for the overall story, 2)were absolutely uninteresting to everyone who isn’t the Crows fan beforehand. In the end we got half-assed Alina and Aleksander’s story with half-assed Crows’ story. They should’ve just made the Crows show, without touching Alina and Aleksander

I haven’t read the books, but from what I gathered in the fandom, though still committing the same sin of putting all the promotion and marketing into the Dark romance trope without actually delivering on it, and force feeding the fans one of the worst and most toxic pairings ever with Malina, at least Alina and Aleksander’s characters weren’t made so cardboard and stupid, and there was tragedy in their story, not the shit that they gave us in s2. Though I absolutely DESPISE the fact that Alina looses her powers in the end and goes on to live Mal’s dream life… Like WHAT THE FUCK?? What levels of internalized misogyny do you need to have as a woman, to write this plot line for your female protagonist???? I can’t.

On Mal’s toxicity: at least that made him a fleshed out character in the books. Absolutely horrible one, how could the author make him “get the girl” is beyond me. But at least he had a personality, however terrible one. In the show, I guess understanding, that no one would root for that asshole, they removed his toxicity almost completely, but that made him as bland as stale porridge. There wasn’t ANYTHING left on his character. At all. How anyone could’ve rooted for him I absolutely refuse to understand. Any woman deserved better than Blade😈

I don’t know anything about Leigh Bardugo, except for the fact that she butcher my native language and makes me furious. If you don’t know the language at least on a medium level, perhaps don’t use it in your books. Or at least hire someone who does. The way she butchered it, I’m not sure she even used Google translate…

So yeah, I’m with you on only reading Darklina fanfics and admiring fan art. I’m not at all sad that they cancelled the show, and I’m even giddy that those creators and writers didn’t get their wet dream of the Crows spin off. They didn’t deserve it after the shit they pulled in the second season. I do hope that they won’t ruin any other shows in the future. I am sad for the actors, who deserved much better and who were actually good at their parts, while the writing was okay. Poor Archie Renaux suffered the most, his character didn’t have good writing at all, not for a single scene. I hope we’ll see more of all of them.

And we need Ben and Jessie to do a film together. Preferably a rom com, but I’m not picky. Just that their characters are together. Such chemistry can’t be wasted

#shadow and bone critical #anti shadow and bone #anti shadow and bone writers #anti s&b #anti s&b writers #anti leigh bardugo #darklina #the darkling #pro the darkling #pro aleksander morozova #pro darklina #anti malina #alina starkov #aleksander morozova #ben barnes #jessie mei li

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flamedraco · 6 months

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So I don't really post a lot on this site. I reblog shit but the amount of times I've actually "posted" in the sense of using my words is a lot smaller than my reblogs. I write a lot of fanfiction though. So in celebration of the fact that my tumblr is now apparently a year old??? I think? Like hell do I know how this site works but I got a notification this morning about it? But in celebration of that I'm going to talk about "You Were Never Meant to be a Hero", my most popular, completed, TNT Duo superhero fanfiction. You'd expect me to talk about my fics more often so if you want to see more of this let me know I guess? And feel free to ask me questions. I enjoy getting them.

So YWNMTBAH started as an urge, as most fics do. I was reading through a lot of TNT Duo fics while working on my first project, Arsonist's Waltz, and I encountered one or two TNT Duo Superhero AUs. Now, I had just come to DSMP directly after two years worth of being in the BNHA fandom. Which if you didn't know is a superhero based Shonen anime. I love superheroes. I always have and probably always will, despite not being able to grow up with too much traditional "superhero" media. So of course I was excited seeing superhero AUs in my favorite ship. I had seen it a lot in SBI stories but not TNT Duo yet. However: I couldn't find the kind of story I wanted to read. The stories I read honestly just...didn't hit the right buttons for me. I'm not saying any of them were bad, gods no. They just didn't have my favorite trope involved or the type of pairing I was looking for. I saw hero/hero, I saw hero/vigilante. I saw a lot of "good" pairings. But I also saw a lot of characters being dumb idiots and while I do love some fun identity shenanigans it gets dull after a while. I have a thing with dense protagonists and 'will they won't they'. I hate miscommunication and a lot of tropes that were being used at the time. There's more to "superhero" than just secret identities. There's a lot of creativity to be had. Creativity and ideas that I just...wasn't seeing. I wanted hero/villain. And I wanted fallen hero, my favorite trope. The antithesis of the redeemed villain. YWNMTBAH started as a oneshot idea. Because I knew how I was. I knew that if I didn't cap it as a oneshot I would spiral when I already had a massive project I was working on. But after giving it more thought...I realized that I really wanted to do more with this idea. I wanted to write a multichaptered superhero fic for my favorite pairing. Self indulgent? Yeah. I didn't expect many people to read it at the time. Little did I know. Which brings me to what I really wanted to talk about: The first chapter.

Anyone who's read YWNMTBAH knows that the first chapter is very unique. I showed you the future before showing you the events that lead up to it. (This is the part where you should abandon ship if you don't want spoilers for the fic btw, link will be down below). From day one I knew what I wanted for the fic. I knew what its themes were going to be. I know precisely what the endgame of the fic was going to be. And for any other authors out there? Here's the best advice I can give you: Know what you want out of the story. Know your ending before you even think of the rest. The job of a first chapter is to ALWAYS- 1: Establish your main characters. 2: Establish your plot. 3: Establish your story concepts. The first chapter is always going to be the hardest in my opinion because it's your first chapter that you, as the author, use to introduce your world to your readers. Think of it like your hook sentence in a professional essay. You need to draw your readers attention and get them to want to keep reading. I was impatient and wanted to write Wilbur's fall immediately. I wanted to write his break down as opposed to the build up. So...I wrote it first. And then realized: I could make it the first chapter. I could make it the first chapter...and then the next few chapters could be flashbacks. Showing the events that lead up to it. Not only was it a clever way to establish the world, the characters, and my plot and concepts, it was a good way to hook the readers' interest! The first chapter's objectives were to make it obvious what the fic was. It should've been a clear sign as to what the fic is. In the first chapter it's present from the start that Quackity is a manipulative bastard and that Wilbur, despite that, and despite knowing what Q is trying to do, he's still a hopeless fool in love. There is manipulation, but there is real love too. (And anyone who got mad over Quackity, the villain, who is tagged as a villain, manipulating Wilbur clearly didn't read the tags. Just because I gave him a sympathetic backstory and the fact that he does LOVE Wilbur doesn't change the fact that he manipulated him and would do it again. Quackity is written as a villain. Thinking he was anything other than a villain was a fool's decision. I could go on an entire separate rant over this aspect of my story). YWNMTBAH is a dark fic. It's been a dark fic from the very beginning. They are a villain and a hero. They are on opposite sides of the war. They are enemies, each other's nemesis. It was the perfect way to introduce people to my world. I knew from the beginning what I wanted for YWNMTBAH. I knew what I wanted it to be. "Fallen Hero" is the trope that refers to a hero who falls into villainy. It's the opposite of the redeemed villain, a trope that I feel is so overdone and overused. It was self indulgent, and I never expected it to blow up like it did. I didn't expect people to latch onto it despite everything. I knew it was different from other things I had seen, it was like that by design. I didn't want to emulate fics like Clinic (that I didn't know existed by the time I was writing it, otherwise I probably would've picked a different villain name for Wilbur other than Siren XD), I didn't want it to be the same hero/hero, hero/civilian, hero/vigilante pairs I had seen, and because of how common Wilbur was written as a villain in the fandom I wanted to write Quackity as the villain. In the same lane: In future superhero fics you'll be seeing Karl as a villain more often too. But by design I made YWNMTBAH to be different from what I was reading. I wanted it to be unique because I wanted it to be EXACTLY what I wanted to read. And apparently? A lot of people got behind that self indulgent idea of mine.

"You Were Never Meant to be a Hero" is my baby. It's my magnum opus. It has an entire multiverse surrounding it now with alternate timelines and AUs for this AU. It's helped me build an amazing community and I feel absolutely FLOORED with the beautiful artwork I've received for the fic over the years of it being uploaded.

So from one author to others: Write the things you want to see in the world. Be the change you want to see. I've seen a lot more hero/villain pairings since I posted YWNMTBAH and I couldn't be happier to see them. Write things inspired by other author's works. Just make sure to credit them and tell them about it. We love it when you guys do things like that. Enjoy creating what you want to create and don't worry about what other people might think of it. Because you should write for yourself, first and foremost. So what if someone would've enjoyed YWNMTBAH if Quackity got redeemed? That was never the intention of the story. That was never the point. So what if someone didn't like that Wilbur ended up with Q in the end because of how Q manipulated him at first? It's a dark fic, read the tags. Write for yourself. Write what you want to see. Inspire others to create. And if you see my fic and think you want to write a version of it in your vision? Fucking do it. I dare you >:) Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/37319827/chapters/93120913

#fanfic #fandom #writing #mcyt #You Were Never Meant to be a Hero #YWNMTBAH

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avidbeader · 1 month

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I was allowed the chance to read a friend's ARC of her debut novel and finished it today. Here's my review and I heartily recommend it for those who like BL and/or pining idiots:

Cross the Line by Lucky Hart My rating: 5 of 5 stars (ARC Review) My favorite things to read tend to run to mystery, action, and suspense, whether in a modern, historical, or fantasy setting. Romance for the sake of romance is not my first choice in picking up a book. But the things my favorite fiction has across genres tend to come down to interesting and compelling characters. "Crossing the Line" has these characters in spades. They leap off the page, vibrant and alive, with a richness of details in their appearances and personalities that will have one nodding, yes, I feel like that or yes, I know someone like that. Having these characters paired with dialogue that flows naturally from one character to the other means that scenes are engaging and keep you in the story. There were plenty of times in the past week where I stayed up past my recommended bedtime to finish just one or two more chapters, or was thinking about where the story might go when I couldn't be reading. Theo and Alec, the main characters, are nicely rounded. They both have things they excel at. They have core personalities that don't waver much as the plot progresses. They have challenges and traumas, but these things neither define the characters nor act as maguffins, only appearing in order to move the plot or cause a conflict. And they are surrounded by other interesting characters in Alec's brothers and friends that enhance the story rather than distract. One of my two wants for this book is to have more women appear on the page rather than just talked about. I can see the attraction of writing the Kings as a boisterous family with four sons and they are all fun characters, but we only get a few glimpses of Mom and mentions of a beloved but deceased grandmother. Yes, Alec being on an NCAA soccer team means being surrounded by other guys, but to not have even one girl among the student population that became a friend feels unlikely. I hope future installments of the series will include a few women with the same kind of loving depth that is shown for the characters here. The plot hinges on feelings, attraction and desire crashing up against friendship and loyalty, and it's delightfully messy just like real life can be. The circumstances in which Alec and Theo keep meeting and then avoiding include decisions, both good and bad, coming from their personality traits and outside circumstances like horrible timing or being in the wrong place. It produces a good balance of emotional exploration with the occasional sitcom-level comedy bit that had me groaning of course that happened. As things move into dangerous waters for our heroes, they take responsibility for one another because they care about each other that much. Even if neither of them has quite figured it out yet, because they are complete pining idiots. My second want for this book, because the characters are so lively, was to have a little more in the denouement department. To read the conversations between a few different characters and the process of some decisions made instead of having them summarized in the epilogue. But that's a testament to how much the characters and story drew me in that I wanted more of them. I finished this book feeling satisfied and entertained. I will read it again. I want to read the next book in the author's planned series. I would recommend it to anyone who likes modern-day romances where you want to reach into the screen and knock the love interests' heads together so they figure it all out or stop keeping their feelings secret. If you're uncertain about smut, there's only three sequences where it's featured and even then the characters are mostly busy talking or feeling things. Take a chance on this one and see if it crosses the line into one of your favorites.

#review #original novel #bl novel #mlm novel #avid reads

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dark-side-laegrinna · 5 months

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OC Songs (well, not really, but close enough)

@furbyq tagged me (thank you!) and since I don't really have OCs other than my sims that aren't based on characters, she suggested I do it for my Deception IV character playlists! I'll be doing ship songs as well.

Much of my vision of the game's characters are my own, as the plots (there are two, Laegrinna's and Velguirie's stories) are secondary and considered forgettable, which is a shame because I found them as enjoyable as the gameplay. The way I've developed their personalities probably makes no sense to the few other fans and would be considered wildly out-of-character, but tbh I don't give a shit because it brings me joy, and with no fandom, there's no drama. (Hopefully).

Characters:

Ice Queen by Within Temptation: this has always been my favorite song by them but I came to associate it with Laegrinna. She is ruthless and cold for the most part canonically, however I think there's more to her than that and I'll get to that later.

Queen of the Night by Whitney Houston: This is, without a doubt, Velguirie's theme song. "I've got more than enough to make you drop to your knees," "They say I'm trouble and I don't give a damn," the lyrics pretty much speak for themselves. They don't call her the Nightmare Princess for nothing.

Shine On Me by Chris Dane Owens: This sounds like a hero's theme song and Zeno Shin is a self-proclaimed hero and big dumb idiot. Also, if you know me you're likely aware Laegrinna/Zeno is my OTP and it evokes the way I imagine him being awestruck by her. She is the Dark Side Princess but she is his light.

Who's That Girl by Madonna - Okay, so hear me out. Whereas Velguirie is entirely fire and I love her for that, Laegrinna is ice AND fire. You don't see that often because while she uses it to her advantage, she won't admit it. Kind of related to the last song it's about falling under the inescapable spell of a captivating woman. Which again is how I envision her effect on Zeno but may or may not also be something more personal.

Ships:

Latch by Disclosure ft Sam Smith: This has been one of my favorite songs since it came out well before I played Deception IV, but now in my mind it's about how Laegrinna and Zeno are drawn to each other and the metaphors are right on for a game where the main goal is using traps on enemies. (Zeno is a major enemy, by the way. You defeat him, which means yes, Laegrinna canonically kills him. But that's what AUs are for, and I'm a sucker for enemies-to-lovers).

Sleeping Dogs by Merril Bainbridge: A song I've known since high school, holy shit that was 25+ years ago now?? 💀 Another one full of metaphors - Laegrinna and Zeno drive each other crazy, but they DRIVE EACH OTHER CRAZY. Somehow, even though I always thought I hated the tsundere trope, it suits Laegrinna in my head. She doesn't want to be attracted to him but she can't resist him.

Shadows of the Night by Pat Benatar: Although I don't think they meet in canon because Evelyn is from Laegrinna's story and I didn't get very far in quest mode (I watched my husband finish it but that was forever ago) I think Velguirie and Evelyn are perfect for each other. "Surrender all your dreams to me tonight" is the line that hit me, like I said Velguirie is the Nightmare Princess, and I'm not going into detail but let's just say Evelyn is quite keen on surrendering 😂 I haven't thought of any other songs for them yet but I hope to, they're a really fun pairing and I love them.

Okay, I've seen a lot of people tagged or participated already but I'll tag @kaylynn-langerak, @celestialspritz, @h0nkytonkangels, and @esotheria-sims.

#tag game #deception shitposting #well not really a shitpost but there's maybe 1 or 2 other fans on tumblr so I need to put it in a personal tag #laegrinna x zeno #velguirie x evelyn

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andromebaa · 1 year

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what are some of your favorite headcanons for just the two of us?

Oh man, I have so many lol. I'm gonna split them into serious stuff (plot/character hc), cute stuff (pairing/shipping hc) and dumb stuff (they're idiots hc). This is definitely not all of them, just the ones I could think of tonight. Kinda spoiler-ish if you haven't read up to the most current Just the Two of Us chapters so be warned! Serious Stuff

Kaito as a hero archetype always fascinates me. I feel like he has this compulsion to help others, especially those he perceives as weaker or unable to protect themselves. I think that's why I portrayed his 'biggest fear' in the simulation as hurting the people he loves the most and losing control in a way that makes him become a monster. (Very fun to consider depending on your HCs about his pre-game personality ehehe)

Kokichi is a walking bundle of trauma. So much has happened to this guy and I'm sure it's been dissected by people smarter than me but like - compulsive liar? Tiny? Really good at hiding? Those weird little spacing-out moments he gets? Something bad happened to you, didn't it? Like, maybe not as BAD as what I've depicted, but yeah. Poor baby.

Shadow Child was created as a representation of both Kaito and Kokichi's 'inner children', specifically the darker and more traumatic parts of their childhoods. They are portrayed more often as Kokichi because his trauma is much larger and more pronounced, and therefore more influential in the subconscious part of the simulation. I don't know why I stuck with they/them pronouns for them, it just kind of felt right?

The leech was based on Kaito's subconscious fears of his death. The concept of this parasite that drained its host's life force felt fitting for a death fear sort of thing. It also represents the loss of control he feels over this aspect of his life. It kind of 'evolves' as it takes in influences from other people, but that's kind of its main framework.

Miu's Copy had a massive breakdown during the bathroom scene. It was kind of her last straw before she turned on the leech. She kind of reflected on what she knew about the original Miu, the contents of the simulation and how Kaito and Kokichi interacted and it made her realise how fucked up everything was and how much she did not want to participate. Also she was getting sick of all the edgy thoughts leech was putting in her brain.

Cute Stuff

Kokichi's favourite food never used to be strawberries, it changed after Kaito fed them to him and he got some sort of psychological association between strawberries and him.

On that note, Kokichi probably can cook, like, decently, but he kind of plays up his ignorance because he likes Kaito showing him how to do it.

Kaito is super super into domestic life lol he can try to pretend he isn't but he so is. Definitely got into a routine when they were stuck in the simulation for that year.

Being with each other for that year made them get a really close, almost psychic-ish bond that people get when they spend too much time with each other. It's how Kaito can pick up on when Kokichi is lying, for example.

After he overcomes the whole 'don't touch me' hurdle, Kokichi swings to the other side of the pendulum and is very clingy. Won't leave Kaito alone. It annoys him at first but it grows on him.

They have lots of petty squabbles but they usually don't last. They're not fantastic at apologising properly to each other, it's usually just settled through physical affection or gifts (food).

Dumb Stuff

Kokichi drank shampoo the first time he saw it because he thought it was a fruity beverage. That's why Kaito started washing his hair for him.

Kaito named all his plants. He gets offended when Kokichi forgets them.

Miu definitely had relations with her P.A.L self.

I'm sure I'm missing a bunch lol but yeah headcanons woo! Thanks for the askkkk <3

#asks #just the two of us #oumota #just the two of us lore

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faelapis · 1 year

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red white & royal blue is one of the worst movies i've ever seen, but it was also just crazy enough to be watchable. i felt like i was going to die. here are some insane highlights of my viewing experience:

the presidents son (alex, one of our leads) is a beto o'rourke liberal who thinks democrats can win texas. everyone agrees to let him try despite having no political expertise. he never mentions the issue of gerrymandering. he's gonna do it solely because he has this brilliant, secret memo with some 5head strategy nobody has ever thought of before.

we never get to read the memo, or even know what his plan is.

it works. they win texas.

there's cameos from equally delusional libs like joy ann reid and rachel maddow.

stephen fry plays the king of england.

king stephen fry is initially homophobic.

but don't worry, the royal family eventually reforms and definitely doesn't need to be abolished :)

uma thurman is the president.

president thurman has dialogue educating the audience on the importance of safe sex & using condoms during anal.

there's a whole scene where they hear what they think is a gunshot. in a hospital. they use it as an opportunity to force the two leads together in a closet for some tee-hee involuntary closeness.

the fact that it could've been a shooter is basically ignored. the scene has no fear or tension.

they do the trope where there's a sassy female side character who is basically just there to tell the main gay couple they're idiots for pining after each other without taking action.

there are several Very Important Monologues about impostor syndrome and how coming out isn't mandatory and every individual queer person's choice uwu.

there's a sneaky reporter who everyone knows is sneaky but the main lead keeps sharing juicy details to anyway. surely he won't leak this. its off the record!

they pair the two leads' black friends together. said black friends have no personality or character arcs.

the main romance is only slightly less contrived.

i'm pretty sure they told hollywood at gunpoint that you're homophobic if you don't appear in this movie, so there's a bunch of other cameos i forgot about as well.

all in all an excellent movie for watch parties. especially if you want to experience the out-of-body dissonance of an extremely generic lazy hallmark romance, but with explicit sex scenes and overt centrist liberal politics. at any point i was expecting hillary clinton to show up for a 5 second cameo to wink at the audience & say that being gay is okay.

2/10, would watch again and again until i end up in a liberal fugue state where i, too, believe that dems will win texas any day now.

#not su /#ask to tag /#not gonna tag the movie because i dont have a death wish (although the movie definitely helped make some progress on that too)

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pinkprimrose05 · 1 year

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Can you do the whole favorite thing about them, least favorite thing about them, favorite line, brOTP, OTP, nOTP, etc. for Yuya?

Warning: Long post, contains slight spoilers.

I am so very sorry for long this stayed in the box- but thanks a lot for the ask!

Favorite thing about them: Why must you make me choose. I can't. I can't do that. There's genuinely too many things to choose from.

...fine, I can do honorable mentions. One thing that piqued my interest in the tomato son all those years ago was how layered his persona can be... if you squint. Or if you're like me and relate to him on a spiritual level. You see, at the surface of his character, Yuuya's your average protag boy: fun-loving, good-natured and full of innocent hopes and dreams-

Except, that's not all there is to it. Not even at the very start of the story. We see from the get-go how he struggles with the weight of past events and his own doubts and insecurities -which only gets more and more prominent as the show goes on- all while holding onto his smiles in defiance against adversity, and trying to help others do the same as well. Personally, I still think that this is a deceptively simple yet very powerful message.

Least favorite thing about them: Ah, that's a question I can't quite answer. You see, there isn't anything specific I dislike about him, as much as there's stuff I dislike that happen to him- as in, to his character. Like the last stretch of the Xyz and Fusion arcs. Those parts did irreversible damage Yuuya's portrayal- so much so that even I, known for being more forgiving of the story's flaws than most, was shaking my head in denial through the first, second, and third watch. Lord help me when I reach them in the fourth.

Favorite line: Quoting myself from the Yuugo version of this post: would it be cheating the question if I said there's too many to count? Because it's still true. I know for a fact that I'll mention a line here and then find another one I prefer not a day later- that's how it is with the faves, I suppose. For the sake of not leaving this empty, though, here's one quote that stuck with me longer than most:

"The dueling I've had up until now isn't something I made alone. Because everyone was there, I was able to make it this far!"

brOTP: Yuugo!

...Saw that coming? Yes? No? Look, Yuuya's the protagonist so he naturally has a lot of interesting friendships, some established, some made over the course of the show... and a few entirely hypothetical, like this one. What can I say? I just think they'd go great together. Picture this: two idiots with half a braincell between them, who meet each other proper and instantly click. And get on like a house on fire from there. Seriously, they're so different yet similar in so many ways, and I think that'd lend itself to a great mutual underdtanding between the two- almost as if they have some kind of telepathetic link (hmmm). Putting them in one room for extended periods of time will either result in the most fun sort of chaos or in talks so deep they both end up bawling their eyes out in each other's arms.

They're friends. Besties. Brothers even.

OTP: Look, I'm a bonafide vanilla when it comes to romantic ships. Fruitshipping is my first and main OTP in all media of interest, and the threatre kiddos get a badge of honor for being one of a scant few pairs that got me extremely close to crying on more than 1 occasion. That's more than can be said for... *checks notes* ...99.8% of the characters I know!

nOTP: Hmm... there's none that come to mind, honestly. I don't mind seeing Yuuya paired with anyone, as long as the ship is not inherently inappropriate and/or isn't portrayed in any weird ways.

Random headcanon: Thanks to certain happenings towards the end of the plot, Yuuya ends up developing the unconscious habit of hoarding things precious to him. He'll go to sleep curled up in the middle of a nest of blankets and pillows, surrounded by all his favorite plushies, random trinkets and gifts from friends, and of course, his pendulum and card partners (thank god in-universe cards are stupidly sturdy). The first time Youko chances upon him in this state, deep in the peaceful bliss of slumber, she stealthily snaps a photo and- huh? No, you didn't hear a thing. "Cuteness overload can be heard from over a mile away?" Pfft, nonsense.

Unpopular opinion: No idea how unpopular this may be, but... I don't get the claims that Yuuya's not a good duelist?

Several people point out that he relies on Action cards to stall out a duel until he can turn it around, and conclude that as such, he's less skillful than most of his opponents. That take confuses me more than anything; after all, isn't it in the nature of the Action duel rule that one must make use of the card scattered around them? They're not just there for show, nor are they solely used for their effects. And besides, it's clear that Yuuya's particular brand of entertainment dueling places heavy emphasis on the dynamic aspect, which is why he's always running around the field and trying to make a spectacle out of every move. That doesn't diminish his skill in any way I can see- he's just more inclined to using resources outside those in his deck, thanks in part to needing more combo pieces than survivability cards by virtue of using Pendulums.

Song I associate with them: Assuming any song qualifies, I'd say it's Future Fighter; because it's literally Yuuya's (and Reiji's) very own personal song. It highlights core aspects of their personalities through the lyrics- and what do you know, our boy has a very nice singing voice too! It was one among many highlights from the back half of ARC-V S1 to me.

Favorite picture of them: Look, I just want to see him happy. I think he deserves to display genuine joy more often. And the more sparkles the episode budget allows, the better! So with that in mind, here's a few of my favorite pics of the boyo.

....oh, you thought I could pick only one?

Bonus:

#as you can tell #this blog is perfectly average and completely normal about sakaki yuuya #totally does not devolve into needlessly long rambling episodes whenever asked about him #nope #absolutely not #....i care him so much....#yugioh #yugioh arc v #yuya sakaki #sakaki yuya #asks #character breakdown

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the-path-to-redemption · 18 days

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hiiii i'm here with my last anon message (❀´ ˘ `❀)

i don't think i'll finish RWBY for the time being... i'm halfway through volume 9 and my head is spinning ( ꩜ ᯅ ꩜;)⁭ ⁭this is just like An Oriental Odyssey, but from the USA!

both:

* have pretty solid writing for the first half and clear expectations, then goes crazy

* develop ok ship only to tear it apart

* main antagonist is bad because their lover died

* many plot twists without any foreshadowing/contradictory foreshadowing

* purest character dies twice and comes back from the dead

* starts as magical realism but SUDDENLY MAGIC!! WOWIES MAGIC DOES EXIST??

* love triangles

* canon ships are bad and the notion of love is twisted and abusive

* fans of the work treat you like an idiot because you don't understand the brilliance of the work

* no subtlety at all

* characters not growing and falling into the same pitfalls

i was halfway season 5 when i realized (˃̣̣̥ᯅ˂̣̣̥) i was cheated!! but i immediately thought, "well, the writers must be young too" then i checked and they were way older than me!! .·°՞(˃ ᗝ ˂)՞°·. double cheated!!

what can you expect from beginner writers... but the designs... _(:‚‹」∠)_

i guess Adam's death didn't shock me (i saw spoilers...) as much as how bad the pairings are!! when Renora started showing signs i had to take a break by reading two whole mangas before going back to it. i thought we finally had good girl/boy friendship!!（ꐦ𝅒_𝅒）what do you mean Ren raised her and they're both in love but Ren doesn't speak his feelings for some reason so Nora had to force a kiss on him?! everything was too creepy!! ‎

(ﾉಥ益ಥ）ﾉ ┻━┻ didn't we have enough with Jaune and Pyrrha?! and suddenly Blake starts slapping Sun around... Bumbleby is ok but i thought this was a sapphic show!! where are my sapphics?! (╯'□')╯︵ ┻━┻

i could rant about many things but the general vibe i got was "ah, everything feels very creepy and cruel somehow" since season 4. i don't know how to explain it... i felt like i was seeing hell for the characters besides the actual problems (•﹏•;) it might be my trauma from An Oriental Odyssey but who knows...

either way this will be my last anon message ♪(๑ᴖ◡ᴖ๑)♪ i need a break from RWBY... i want to do fanarts, but i'm still too shocked (￣◇￣;) thank you for reading my messages and accompanying me through this odyssey journey!! ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡₊˚⊹♡ if i come back, i'll definitely come back with a blog!! ദ്ദി ˉ͈̀꒳ˉ͈́ )✧ stay strong friend!! wishing you good health and lots of money and love!! (´▽`ʃ♡ƪ)

Hello again!! It's so nice to see you, anon! Please take your time if you're coming back with a blog, and take care!

Long Post Ahead

I have not seen An Oriental Odyssey, but I might actually check it out now just to see because I enjoy xianxia/wuxia lol. But from what you said, I will be keeping a low expectation for the series if it shares that much similarities with RWBY.

I will also say that I'm personally fine with darker topics being explored in fictional work; my only requirements are that they're portrayed with proper research and with content warnings so that I know what will be included in the narrative (Banana Fish and Scum Villain's Self Saving System are two of my favorite series, with both containing very dark topics). In the case of RWBY, dark topics such as abusive relationships and cruelty in dynamics were not only very sloppily written, the writers refuse to even acknowledge how bad it is along with the FNDM (eg. Blacksun and Renora).

There's a lack of accountability when it comes to how they portray such topics, and even expecting us to think of it as a good thing without even giving us a choice to decide that ourselves. The writers blamed their animation team for the slap when criticism of it arise, and continues to not take abuse very seriously outside of the caricature portrayal of such things with Adam.

And yes, the writers are old enough to know better. They've been writing this series for more than ten years, which should have given them enough time to grow as both creatives and people, but I've also learned that age does not always equal maturity. M*les himself has once said a racial slur against African Americans when he was 26, and called the character Tifa Lockhart from the FF7 Remake game a prostitute for the way she looks and dressed, even though everyone knows that she is the primary inspiration for Yang. With such a person on the writing team, let alone leading it, it's no wonder a lot of RWBY's morals feels extremely juvenile and lackluster.

The matter of age when it comes to creating things aren't always attached to age, it's about how dedicated the creators are to their projects, which RWBY has not been for quite a while now.

Moving onto the matters of ships and their dynamic, yes I was disappointed with Renora as well. Just a correction though, Ren didn't really raised Nora; it's more like they took care of each other when they lost their families, with Ren taking more responsibility for them while Nora supports him emotionally. However, the relationship starts to sour (for me at least) was when Nora lost her emotional maturity and intelligence to basically invalidates Ren's turmoils. Forcing him to talk when he's not having a good time, forcing a kiss on him, then proceed to blame Ren for the relationship falling apart even though he tried to be rational in a crisis. She became extremely nasty as a person that I don't want to see her near Ren anymore for his own well-being!

This isn't uncommon in RWBY... every relationship (romantic or otherwise) are very shallow and disappointing. It's even worse when it comes to LGBT+ romance, because RWBY did not start or continued as a sapphic-friendly show. Blacksun was baited for years, until the writers saw that Bumbleby brings them more traction despite having very little believable hints that these two would ever be in a relationship with each other, even if you don't look at the very problematic elements of it (again, I don't mind such ships, I just dislike how these two are heralded as "cute and good" when the foundation of their romance is so toxic and they're stripped of their other personality traits).

Sapphic ships in RWBY (or just LGBT+ representations in general) are either for marketing purposes or shoddy afterthoughts. The writers were never going to treat such representations seriously because they themselves do not treat real life LGBT+ individuals with respect. If you go into the research of how Rooster Teeth's queer employees are treated, you will find the account of Kdin Jenzen being abused, hate crimed for being trans and fired by the company without aid. You're better off watching The Owl House, or even any queer manga out there.

Thank you again for the ask and reading my ramblings haha. Whatever it is you do going forward, I hope you have fun and stay safe! If we do meet again, I look forward to seeing your art! It was fun, and I wish you an abundance of wealth and love as well! Bye bye, anon! <3

#answered #anonymous #rwde #rwby critical #anti rooster teeth #fndm critical #anti bb #anti bumbleby

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hyunnieshannie · 1 year

Text

SUPERBOARD

Chapter 2: The Rules

Pairing: Hyunjin x Reader

Word Count: 5,098

General Synopsis: S_Class started off as a street racing team, built between friends but as the adrenaline rush died down, racing wasn’t enough. N/S was formed. What started off with petty crimes, quickly spiraled into a string of organized crime.

Warnings: strong language, mentions of weapons (no actual weapons are used), mentions of death (not a current main character), trauma, drug use, reckless driving)

A/N: we’re learning more about the crews in this one.

Disclaimer: This is a fanfiction, this does not represent the idols mentioned in any way.

please DO NOT rewrite, translate, or repost this fic. Thank you.

PREVIOUS MASTERLIST NEXT

“You walk slowly.” Phobia says, as he takes long strides away from you. Still you try to catch up, jogging up beside him. You could tell he wasn’t particularly happy to be guiding you through the abandoned warehouse “This really should have been done by one of your crew. I don't know why I’m stuck doing this.” he mumbles.

“I don’t have a crew.” you say, rolling your eyes as he continues to grumble about his ‘duties’.

“Whatever you say, no name.”

“My name is Y-” you begin before Phobia slaps a hand over your mouth to stop you from talking. He smells really good, you thought to yourself.

“Are you stupid!?” he whisper-yells, removing his hand from your mouth after realizing what he did, quickly wiping his hand off on his shirt. “Didn’t the fucking kid tell you not to fucking mention your actual name here? Jesus are they all fucking useless?”

He runs his hands through his hair and groans in frustration, mumbling more about how “useless those Limitless fucks” were.

“Anyways heres the fucking run down, if you’re going to ever show yourself here again you better listen carefully and learn quickly.” He gets close to you, a breath away, and holds up his pointer finger, “Rule Number one. Don’t give any personal information away here. Your name, your address, blood type, zodiac sign, anything you can think of that might give anyone a slight hint as to who you are as a person outside of the race is a no go, ever.” He looks into your eyes to make sure you’re paying attention to his words. You can tell he's aggravated by the way his brows are knit tightly together, his glare menacing. He holds up another finger and continues to walk through the warehouse, giving you a silent tour as he lists off these “rules”.

“Rule number two. If you do know someone’s name or any sort of information about them you keep it to yourself. Never call someone by their actual name here, only ever by their given name.” Phobia gives you a serious look to make sure you really understand that one considering you know Finn personally. You’re starting to get really confused and concerned what the fuck you just got yourself into. You try to speak and ask Phobia a question but he holds up a third finger.

“Rule three, do not ever disclose information on the race with anyone outside of the invited organizations.” he says quickly holding up his fourth finger. “Four. ties into three, don’t ever speak on locations of races. We don’t need another fucking raid because of another idiot.” He says rolling his eyes and quickly glancing behind him at the Limitless crew. He turns back and holds up his fifth finger.

“Five. When it comes to Oddinary, NoEasy, or S.Coups, don’t speak unless spoken to. You’re not in a group. As you claim. Therefore you have no reason to actually speak to them.” You try to speak again but he shushes you quickly and holds up his other hand bringing a sixth finger up. “Six, no weapons are ever allowed on race grounds. Do what you want outside of these areas; these are safe zones.” Weapons?! Seriously what the fuck did you get yourself into.

“Seven, if for some reason you are caught by the fucking cops, not a word comes out of you about ANYONE. Not a word about S_Class, not a word about Limitless.” You're losing a little focus and pause in your spot, this is a lot of information to take in at once. You don’t really even know what the fuck you brought yourself into, it was a little overwhelming. Phobia noticed your lack of attention and missing presence behind him. He walked back towards you and snapped his fingers in front of your face bringing you back to the present. “Are you retaining all of this information, or should I have Finn escort you home?”

“Okay.” you shake your head and press your fingers into your temples. “Wait, let me just refresh everything.” You look up to the ceiling trying to list off the rules Phobia had just relayed to you, “no personal info for anyone, no information about the groups or locations and only use the names given to you… right?” Phobia nods in confirmation which sparks another question, “about that actually, how were you given names? Do they have meanings…?” Phobia tilts his head to the side looking at you curiously. You look down at yourself to figure out why he’s looking at you like that and he quickly picks his hands up again and holds up an eighth finger and continues walking throughout the warehouse.

“Rule eight. Do not ask questions. If there is information Oddinary, NoEasy or S.coups think is of value for you to know they will tell you. Otherwise, stay in your lane.” You roll your eyes, of course, you should've known he wouldn't answer your question. “Nine. This ties into the whole weapon thing but don’t start a fucking fight during races. Whatever happens outside the race is whatever, fighting during a race will fuck you over on multiple levels. We’re here for fun, not any of our… outside shit.”

The warehouse is entirely run down, abandoned years ago, worn down to just its bones. The cars that lined up inside the warehouse though were a spectacle within itself. The shiny wax coatings basically sparkling from the setting sun outside. There were people everywhere, music blasting from certain groups of people.

“Lastly, and most importantly. No Name, pick your fucking team wisely.” He stops in front of you, making you bump into his chest. You quickly step back from him and he looks at you seriously, glancing behind you and his glare grows more menacing. “Once you make your choice, there’s no going back on it. So make sure you at least like your crew before choosing who you side with.”

“Got it. Fight club style I guess.” you nod as you look around at the rest of the people walking by, the cars revving to the right of you.

“Not quite, but if that’s gonna help you remember them then sure.” Phobia chuckles and smiles smally at you. Oh my god he can smile, you think to yourself.“Plus there are some unspoken rules. But most people tend to learn them the hard way.” He sighs, running his long, ring covered fingers through his hair. “They’re just basics. Like don’t touch Oddinary, or try to pick a fight with her unless you want Maniac, to cut your hand off or worse.” He points over your left shoulder and you turn to see the light haired boy from earlier, who you assume is Maniac, is fonding over the tall scary girl from earlier. “Or like don’t touch NoEasy or try to pick a fight with her unless you want Double Knot to cut your hand off… or worse.” He points to the other shorter girl from earlier who you remember was called NoEasy who was sat in the lap of a black haired boy you haven't seen before, his grip was tight over her legs, and when he caught your eyes on him his glare darkened causing you to shiver. “Oh, or like, don't touch someone's car without permission. Those are peoples pride and joy, real shit don’t fuck with anyone’s car”

“Cars, equal children do not touch. Got it” You nod to yourself. You don’t catch the little chuckle that Phobia lets out at your conclusion. “Anything else there, pretty boy?”

“Excuse me?” he looks at you incredulously, a little shocked you didn’t remember his name.

“I don’t know your name, sorry but I’m working with what I got.” You do know his name though, you’re fully aware, but a little teasing never killed anybody. And especially since the way he’s been talking to you as if you’re an actual child, you want to push his buttons back. “So, is there anything else I need to know, pretty boy? Or can I get back to Finn?” He got a little angry when you mentioned Finn’s name. However, he visibly stiffened when you called him pretty boy again, clearly entertained by you.

“Phobia. You’d do yourself some good remembering that.” He chuckles, smirking at you. “And yeah there’s more. So, try not to fuck in any of the race locations, people come here for fun. Not for a free show, if you think you see any sort of “illegal activities”, no you didn't, and bring your own car. No one is letting you drive theirs. But that should have been a given.” Phobia is still shaking off the pretty boy comment unbeknownst to you. By the time he has finished listing off all of these rules, you've done a loop of the warehouse and the race seems like it’s about to start. You notice Finn is driving up to the start marker against a member of S_Class you haven’t met yet. He had light brown hair and you saw the smirk that played on his lips.You spotted Oddinary and NoEasy walking up behind Phobia, with Maniac, Double Knot, and another guy who seemed oddly familiar.

“Phobia.” NoEasy says firmly and you notice Phobia stiffening instantly as he turns around to face the girls.

“Yes Ma’am.” Phobia says as politely as possible, you look at him in disbelief considering he was talking to you like you were a fucking rock not a few moments ago.

“Let Venom take her from here, he’s finally available, and we all know you’re not the most welcoming member,” NoEasy teases as she winks in your direction, pulling Venom forward by his jacket sleeve.

“Venom, it’s your time to shine, the poor girl looks terrified. Give her a warm welcome, yeah?” Oddinary smirks at Venom and they exchange understanding winks at one another. That oddly unsettled you, a little concerned that they potentially had something up their sleeves. Little did you know, they really did. Venom being their best recruiter, they wanted to snatch you up before Limitless could sink their claws into you. The plan always works better that way, especially on women. Dangle the pretty boy in front of new recruits and seal the deal with Venom’s ridiculous rizz charms. Because anyone who knew anyone, knew Venom’s rizz game charm was unmatched.

“Anything for you, my queen” Venom bows regally to Oddinary and you notice Maniac’s face fall to disgust as he glares at Venom. Venom laughs as he sees Maniac’s death glare. “Calm down there big boy, you know you like to share sometimes.”

“Please don’t make me gag.” Phobia says as he rolls his eyes. “She’s all yours. See ya round, no name.” As Phobia walks away, Venom basically saunters up to you all smug and painfully handsome.

“Well, hello there Princess. I see we meet again.” Venom emphasizes the nickname as he tucks a piece of hair behind your ear. You blush at the name and the actions, fuck why are these people so fucking good looking. Phobia heard the nickname Venom used for you and he felt a little confused and painfully curious as to how you already knew his friend.

~𝄋~

You spent the next few minutes of time you had left with Venom. He was painfully attractive. He had long bleached blonde hair, a face that looked like it was sculpted by the gods and those same gods blessed his cheeks with the constellations, in the form of freckles that were beautifully dusted across his face. Not only was he beautiful, he was incredibly straight forward, and incredibly funny; and despite his persistent flirting, he was warm and truly welcoming.

“I think it’s working well over there,” NoEasy says, lightly elbowing her sister as she watches Venom and you chatting it up.

“Always does, no one compares to him.” Maniac looks to Oddinary in high offense, gasping and clutching his chest as if she just broke his heart. “Oh calm down my love, you know I mean his skills in recruitment. Everything else is all you.” Oddinary runs her fingers across his cheek and he instantly warms his expression at her touch, gently and ever so slightly leaning into her palm.

“Please.” Phobia says as he is one, disgusted by the display of affection, and two, pissed off that they are praising Venom instead of him. “What does Venom have that I don’t, I’m better looking. I’m stronger, I’m faster, I’m-”

“The ability to make people trust him, and to give off the impression that he trusts them even though they just met.” Oddinary lists off, crossing her arms across her chest as she glares at Phobia. “Humble yourself. You might have the face card, but he's got the charm.”

“I have charm, Oddinary.” Phobia bites back, his voice just quiet enough to not make Oddinary angry with his sudden outburst. “Like why can’t I just do my job without you guys always throwing Venom in to seal the fucking deal?”

“No Phobia, you don’t. You lost that shit right after Domino. And you sure as hell never got it back, hence why you’ve been back seated and got your fucking job taken by Venom.”

“You said we don’t bring up past members Oddinary what the fuck. Why would you bring her up?” Phobia seethes at Oddinary growing angry at the mention of that name.

“Because if you want to ask fucking questions about why you’ve been replaced then you’re going to get the exact answer.” Oddinary centers herself before continuing. “Listen Phobia, you fucked up once. We wanted to keep your role, but you lost that charm, that edge you had to bring people in after her.”

“Domino wasn’t my fault-” Phobia says sadly. The incident, though long forgotten by the other members, was still fresh in his mind. Three years since he buried his partner. Three years since the accident that took her life. Three years have gone by, he couldn’t remember her touch, or warmth, or how she smelled. Only the ghost of her smile remained, the fading sound of her laugh, and her name that was carved in the deepest parts of his mind and heart.

“No she wasn’t fully your fault. But we had to do what we had to do. I get your little fucking heart still hurts but if you want to work in your old position again, then forget the girl and pull yourself the fuck together.” Oddinary’s face grows serious before she says her next words. “She was a snake anyway.”

“Don’t fucking speak on the de-” Phobia starts and is abruptly cut off by NoEasy who is pushing him away from Oddinary. He didn't even realize he started to approach her. His mind was only filled with splattered memories of Domino. He would have expected Maniac to have stopped him. But instead found Maniac looking at him, with a pained expression. He wasn’t angry, nor preparing himself to fight for, Oddinary. No. He just stood there blankly, as if there was something he needed to say. Beside him Double Knot stood, looking just the same. Holding his own arms in his hands, as he looked to NoEasy for an answer. Double Knot looked to the ground as he silently muttered what could have been a prayer under his breath. As if it would magically absolve him of the sins he had committed.

“Phobia, relax. Oddinary don’t add fuel to the fire right now, we can handle internal discussions elsewhere. Now is not the time, nor the place.” NoEasy puts herself between him and her sister, looking between Phobia, Maniac, and Double Knot. Phobia stepped back from NoEasy and bowed at her and her sister before turning to walk away, needing to desperately cool off.

“We need to talk to him, NoEasy. We can’t keep letting him live in that lie. No matter how bad it hurts.” Oddinary whispered to NoEasy.

“Oddinary. Trust me, I want to tell him, but there are far too many outsiders around for us to do that right now.”

“Then let me. I know him better than the rest of you.” Oddinary sighs, looking at her sister who gives her a sad smile.

“Wasn’t that always the plan?”

~𝄋~

Venom had spent roughly ten minutes explaining how the races worked. You learned that each group organized a race each month. There were smaller events held every week for those who wanted to participate, but the monthly ones were the big ones. The ones that brought in the bets and only those who were officially invited were allowed to participate. Not that anyone who wasn’t invited would ever know where the location of each race would be, and on whose territory. That was one of the biggest parts that confused you. Did racing teams always have their own territories? Sure street racing was illegal. The cops could show up at any time and arrest them all for reckless driving and endangerment, but somehow they’d mapped everything out down to each escape route, whose car would be the decoy and how to get out of any kind of sticky situation they may find themselves in. “You know princess, Limitless has its fair share of good drivers, but when it comes to picking a team; S_Class, is the only winning team in Seoul.”

“Is a win that important?”

“Means we own most of the territories so yeah, it does matter.” Venom shrugs at your question, lighting a joint and bringing it to his lips, taking a deep puff, and exhaling towards the sky. He wordlessly offers it to you which you happily accept.

“You divide territories based on wins?” You manage, through a coughing fit.

“And other things” Venom smirks, “My bad Princess, I should have warned you that shits strong. Added a bit of hash into it and some-” he was cut off by Phobia walking right into him. Phobia turned to look at Venom. Phobia had lost the cold, resting bitch face he wore while you toured the area with him. Instead his face was full of hurt? And panic? “You good there?” Venom asks his friend, his voice filled with concern. You want to ask what’s wrong, but you know better to not ask about personal information.

“If Oddinary asks where I went, tell her I went to N/S base. I’ll be in my room.” Phobia says, not able to meet his friends' concerned eyes. He looks at you briefly before he turns to walk away.

“What happened?” Venom reaches for him and grabs the arm of his jacket. Phobia doesn’t turn around.

“She brought up Domino.” he sighs, “I’m leaving. If she wants to talk she can find me there.” Phobia yanks his arm out of Venom’s grip and walks towards a line of cars.

“Shit.” Venom mumbles, as Phobia hops into his car, a maroon coloured dodge challenger. The engine roars, sending stares in his direction as he quickly speeds off. “Sorry about that, Princess.”

You know it's best to just nod it off, both Finn and Phobia mentioned how asking questions wasn’t a good idea instead you attempt to pass Venom his joint back. He looks like he’s about to start walking towards his group but an alarm sounds signifying the start to the race. Venom stops in his tracks and comes back to your side. You see a girl walk in the middle of the two cars lined up to start. She was really cute, long brown hair, blunt bangs, trailing a green flag behind her as she posted herself in front of the revving cars. She looked at both drivers, awaiting their nods, and in three counts she waved the flag and the two cars zoomed past her.

“Now watch carefully Princess, what’s going to happen is Finn will take the lead, he’ll even get the first lap in while staying in it.” Venom smirks, as his prediction comes true. Finn crossed the start with the S_Class member passing right after him. Finn could win. He was way ahead of the S_Class member, his car showing no signs of slowing down any time soon. He crossed the line once more, “Now here's where it gets good.” Venom smiles, “You see, Collision likes to toy with his opponents, sick little bastard, feeding them false hope.”

You watch as Collision begins to gain on Finn, over taking him quickly. You can tell Finn is panicking, swerving to try and find some sort of opening to pass to no avail. Collision managed to mimic his moves, leaving no chance of redemption for Finn. Just like that, Collision crossed the line, drifting his car to face Finn who was yet to cross. The boy got out of his car, smiling widely as Finn finally made it across, jumping out with an equally wide grin.

“You smug asshole, I would have beat you there!” Finn laughs as he makes his way over to Collision and they exchange an elaborate handshake with far too many elaborate sequences.

“Nah dude, not a chance!”

You watch as the two of them laugh, and chat away. The next race is announced and quickly everyone moves to their spots.

The races went well, you watched as S_Class destroyed each race they were in. Winning all of them with different tactics. Each one of them toying with their opponent. You watched as Limitless won races against another group you had yet been introduced to, but truly it seemed that group was only invited as filler for everyone else. Because what fun would it be to race against a team who seemed to not only possess more money than the rest of them, to be able to modify their cars to unreasonable lengths, but a stronger will to win. As if winning was their way of proving to everyone else who was in charge.

As everything came to an end, Venom made sure to keep you company as people started to file out of the warehouse. “You know Princess, you’re pretty quiet but you’re really cute, which would work well for you if you want to be a trophy wife for Limitless.”

You look at him in surprise. “Uh, thanks for the compliment I think? But what do you mean by a trophy wife?”

“Princess, I’m gonna shed some light for you.” He says as he wraps his arm around your shoulder, pulling you closer to him. His deep voice and his closeness are not helping the shiver that’s running down your spine. “Limitless have their own thing going on, we’re not entirely sure what they do, but one thing we know for sure is that they treat their girls as trophies.” He turns your body towards the Limitless crew. “You remember the girl that started the first race with Finnie Boy? That’s JiJi. She’s a stupidly good racer, like… almost good enough to be a top racer. But you know what they did? They made her their flag bearer. She only races maybe once a month.” You look at the girl Venom was pointing to, she was currently leaning under the hood of a car to get a look at the engine before one of the other boys gently pulled her away from it. You saw the disappointment on her face.

He points to an orange haired girl, “That over there is Yuu. She’s an adrenaline junkie, loves to drive hard and fast. She has the potential to be a great racer, if she was ever allowed on a track.” You watch as the girl talks excitedly to one of the Limitless boys who won his race, looking longingly at his racing car. You look at the other girl in their group, the one that’s been glued to that guy The8, since you showed up.

“What about her?” you ask Venom, pointing at the blue-haired girl.

“Ahhh yes, that’s Soul. She definitely doesn’t race. Not that she really wants to. She just likes to stand next to her car or her boytoy. She’s the one that set the standard for being a trophy wife.”

You nod and continue to watch the girls in Limitless and how they seem to be left out of the conversations, except for that girl Yuu, who looks like she’s forcing herself into every conversation. Thankfully the guys actually talk to her. You look around and notice that a bunch of the patrons from earlier were filing out of the warehouse. You and Venom head back towards the S_Class crew.

“Oddinary!” a short guy with black hair yells from the S-Class crew. “Where you going? I thought we could all hit up the bar on your side of town.” He starts to chase after Oddinary, his gummy smile plastered across his face. How the fuck could a cutie like this be in a place like this?

“Finding Phobia. I need to apologize to him.” Oddinary says shortly, getting into her black corvette stingray and speeding out of the warehouse.

“Those two.” NoEasy sighs and looks at Maniac who just shakes his head. “I don’t know how you deal with them, Maniac honestly.”

“The same way Double Knot deals with you and Pacemaker.” Maniac sighs in defeat. “I let them be the same way he lets you two be.” You look at Venom, the phrasing was incredibly suggestive to you and you hoped he would clear things up but all he did was smile at you. Thanks for nothing Venom.

“Enjoy the races, No Name?” The guy who pulled The8 back from earlier asked you. He had an aura of authority that surrounded him. Maybe he was the leader of Limitless? Everyone from Limitless had their eyes on you as he approached, Venom tightened his hold around your shoulder a bit.

“Yeah, they were interesting. Crazy to see how each person's style is… unique.” You said shyly, not really keen on having so much attention on you at the present moment.

“S_CLASS!” NoEasy yelled from behind you. “LET’S WRAP IT UP.” Everyone, including Limitless, started grabbing their bags and random items from around and piled into their cars.

“How are you getting home Princess?” Venom asked, finally removing his arm from your shoulder.

“I don’t want to assume, but I’m hoping Finn brings me back home. Or I guess I’m walking.”

“Yo, Finn!” Finn looks over from his friends and sees Venom smirking back and slowly starts leading you to his car by your shoulders. “I’m taking your girl home, hope you don’t mind.” Venom sends a wink and blows a kiss to Finn before opening the car door for you and getting in the driver's seat and speeding out of the now mostly empty warehouse.

The drive with Venom is quite peaceful, minus the speeds he’s driving at. He had a nice car, a neon green and black Ford Focus ST. The interior is a comfortable black leather with neon green stitching. He was quiet for the most part, but kept looking at you as if he wanted to say something. Which he finally did.

“Just so you know Princess, by tomorrow everyone is going to want to know if you’re in or out.” Venom says, a tint of concern in his voice. “I know we just met, but be careful with who you pick. It’s a lifetime commitment.”

“It’s just a car group…”

“It’s much more than that Princess. Finn brought you to the race for a reason. Seeing as you haven’t run yet. Looks like we can trust you.” He quickly looks at you and sees the confusion from his words written all over your face and he chuckles warmly. “I’m sure you’re confused. And have questions, but the questions you have can only be answered if you pick a team. And will only be answered by that team. If you pick Limitless, I can no longer be your guide. Friends outside of it are fine, but inside? Not at all. If you pick S_Class it's the same shit with Jake.”

“Jake?” you whip your head towards Venom. How the hell did he know Finn’s real name? You didn’t slip up did you? No, no way. You’re starting to panic.

“You know his name Princess, we aren’t at the races any more. Whatever we say out here doesn't mean shit.”

“Venom, I don’t know about any of this and Phobia, seemed like he’d rather me not even consider picking you guys.” you sigh as you fiddle with your hands in your lap.

“It’s fine to call me by my name by the way.”

“I don’t know it.”

“It’s Felix. We go to the same school, can’t have you calling me Venom when we’re there anyways. Anyways Jinnie, he’s just. Not so trusting of people these days, don't mind him.” He stops the car and you only realize just then that you are in front of your house. The drive was a lot faster than you thought it would be, but let’s be real Venom, no, Felix was speeding on the highway. Felix shifts in his seat to face you and lets out a sigh. “Listen, pick who you want but think it over carefully, the only thing I can tell you for sure is you’ve seen the races, you’ve seen S_Class territories. You know our layout, and our people. Limitless gave you to us the second you arrived, if they wanted you in their crew they’d have fought back with us when we offered Jinnie to you.” You look at him in pure confusion. What the fuck did ‘offering Jinnie’ mean? “You’d be safer with S_Class.”

“Safer?”

“Questions can only be answered by the group you pick love.” He smiles, as you slowly slide out of the car. “Tomorrow, Jake and I will both be sent to you for an answer. Possibly Yeosang, too. But no one joins the Pirate crew anyways. They don’t usually accept new members but it's still a possibility. Get some rest, and think it over carefully. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

You start to walk towards your house, having an internal panic over the fact you only had a few hours to think about what group to pick. What the fuck…

“Oh!” Felix yells out his window. “And remember you have the option to walk away from all of this, don’t feel pressured to pick one group or the other, the third option is always no one!” Felix quickly speeds away from you, leaving you even more confused.

Tags @chanlixiiee @channiesbub @jaebaebaegot7 @maeleelee @iadorethemskz @maenijw @hangin-out-with-the-street-rats @elizalabs3 @jinniespuppy @painstakingly-juno @lethallyprotected @multeciahucho @@jisungsbff01

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