#THE BARRETTE IS STILL THE SAME

[toadstoolillustrations]

Rainy evenings in Twinford ☂️🌧️🪰

[Image description: Digital fanart of the Ruby Redfort book series, featuring Ruby and Hitch standing in the rain.

Hitch is a dark-haired man vaguely resembling Gregory Peck, wearing a suit and smart overcoat. He holds an umbrella over Ruby and himself, and looks down at her carefully out of the corner of his eye.

Ruby is a teenage girl with brown hair, bright red glasses and 1970s clothes. She is tilting her head in curiosity and reaching one hand out from under the umbrella to feel the rain.

The next two images are close-ups of each face. /End description]

[undeserved-halo]

guys don’t panic i now have the cast list for the heathers uk 2024 tour because i know you were all very worried about the fact i didn’t have it and was very distressed knowing that the cast might not do dead girl walking justice but i listened to jenna innes’s dgw soundcheck on tiktok and it sounds really good so im okay now because obviously you were all super worried right

[mellifluouaamor]

MASH BURNEDEAD, FINN AMES, LANCE CROWN, DOT BARRETT, RAYNE AMES, ABEL WALKER, ABYSS RAZOR, WIRTH MADL, CARPACCIO LUO-YANG, ORTER MADL (SEPARATE) ⍣ GENDER-NEUTRAL READER

synopsis. his reaction to you asking him, “what if i suddenly disappeared one day?”

author's note. reader's relationship with the boys is up to your interpretation! but reader is implied to be orter's betrothed here c;

as a blank look crosses his face, MASH almost drops the cream puff he was eating upon registering your question. he stops for a moment to think what exactly made you ask him that, but when he can't come up with any reason he decides to ask you a question of his own. "did something happen?"

when you don't answer him, he clenches a fist beside his head. someone must be threatening you - why else would you ask him that out of nowhere? "tell me his name. i'll punch the stuffing out of him so he doesn't bother you again."

mash is puzzled when you wave your hands around frantically, claiming that nobody is bothering you. "i was just curious!" you exclaim, "don't think about it too deeply. i just wanna know how you'd feel and what you'd do if it happens."

he hums thoughtfully as he continues eating his cream puff. the thought of you suddenly disappearing makes his chest feel heavy. losing you is like losing his pops - but ten times worse. he visibly deflates and stops eating, which worries you. when you place a hand on his shoulder, mash grabs that same hand and pulls you towards him.

"if you suddenly disappeared one day... i'll be sad. but i'll find you," he says, cupping your cheek which grows warm under his touch, "and i'll keep trying until i do."

FINN would stare at you like you've just told the entire world his deepest and darkest secret. a few seconds pass, and the freckled first-year then clings to your sleeve as if he's a child about to be left behind by his mother. "wh-what? why would you ask that? where would you go? why would you go? is... is everything okay...?"

you could tell that he's becoming more anxious with every second that ticks by from the way he's clenching his fists against your robe. you reassure him that everything is okay and he relaxes a little, but he's still bothered by your question.

"then why are you asking me...?" he asks, trailing off. he's starting to think that you're actually hiding something from him and becomes jittery again. he grips your arm tightly, afraid that you'll disappear into thin air if he doesn't, and you wince; you swear that he's cutting off the blood circulation in your arm.

when you tell him that you're only asking for fun, that does little to ease his nerves. "but i can't get it out of my head! i'm scared- i don't want you to disappear without a trace!"

for the next few days, finn would become extra clingy and glue himself to your side whenever he can. lance and dot would cast judging looks his way, but he couldn't care less. as long as he's with you, there's no way you'd suddenly disappear, right?

LANCE rolls his eyes at your question. "like that'll ever happen. you don't even know how to cast the transportation spell properly." despite his words, he's a bit concerned that something might be happening to you behind his back or you're sick, and you're not telling him about it.

"oh come on, you know that's not what i meant!" you exclaim, "just answer my question!" he lets out a quiet sigh. folding his arms over his chest, he stares straight ahead and thinks about what he'd do if you were suddenly gone from the academy one day.

"there's not much to do except to ask your friends and teachers where you went. if they don't know, then i'll search for you myself." there's a pause, and you tilt your head curiously as he looks down, his bangs casting a shadow over his eyes. "i'll keep looking until i find you." after that, lance doesn't talk to you for the rest of the day.

the following morning, your friends tell you that lance was borderline interrogating them about your private life last night, making you internally question his intentions. you can feel someone's gaze on your back as you go about your day, making you scared of the prospect of someone stalking you.

you also notice that lance has been overly attentive towards your activities over the course of the week, asking questions such as, "where's your next class? which friend are you going to sit with? what class do you have after that?"

DOT doesn't think much about it at first and just laughs. "disappear? where are you even planning to go?" with a beam, he slings an arm over your shoulder. "don't think of going anywhere without me! wherever you go, i'll follow!"

you laugh along, unable to continue the conversation with how much of a cheery fellow he is.

later on, dot's mind would drift back to your question. he knits his eyebrows together, wondering why you would even ask him that. is someone bullying you? or maybe... he stands up abruptly and slams his hands on his desk, disrupting the class as he shouts, "I OFFENDED THEM WITHOUT KNOWING?!"

even when he's told to stand outside of the classroom until the class ends as punishment, he couldn't stop thinking about it. he's itching to barge into your classroom to ask you, but holds himself back from getting into further trouble.

during one of your breaks, dot would pull you aside and hold your shoulders firmly as he stares into your wide eyes. "look, i'm sorry for whatever i did. i'll apologise a thousand times if i have to," he says, and after a brief pause he adds, "just don't go anywhere i can't follow."

RAYNE is immediately alarmed by your question, and he turns to face you with his usual frown deepening. he then grabs your arm to prevent you from leaving and asks, "what do you mean? spit it out. what happened?"

he won't let you go until you tell him everything. he doesn't even bother hiding the fact that he's worried, and the worst case scenario keeps surfacing in his mind. this is why he didn't want people knowing that you're close to him; you might be used against him, or even worse, hurt because of him.

"please, (y/n). tell me if something's wrong," he implores. he can't bear the thought you disappearing right before his eyes, and he really thinks that your life is in danger. even when you say that you're asking the question in a general sense, he's not about to take any chances.

rayne would ask max to look after you in his place and to keep tabs on your activities, as well as the people you'd frequently interact with. max thinks that he's overthinking but does it all anyway because he understands rayne's concern for your safety and well-being.

rayne would also make an effort to spend more time with you outside of classes so that he can guard you himself. you'll have to give him plenty of reassurance to convince him that nobody is out to get you.

ABEL drops his doll; that's how shocked he feels when you asked him that haunting question. why would you ask him that, knowing that he had lost his mother when he was a child? do you want to torture him by disappearing without a single trace of your existence?

you immediately regret asking him that and try to apologise. before any words could leave your mouth, abel pulls you into a tight hug with one arm wrapped around your waist and the other around your shoulders. his gesture catches you off-guard, rendering you speechless.

"please don't," he whispers, "i feel the safest with you. if anyone or anything tries to take you from my side, i swear i'll take you back." without you, abel would truly be a lost child searching endlessly for the warmth that had left him.

the following day, you'd find abel and abyss as your scary dog privilege on campus.

"... are you actually scared of me?" ABYSS gives you a melancholy smile as he asks you a question of his own. he had always dreaded the day that you would admit your fear of him because of his evil eye; although he knew that you would never leave him simply because of that, he still can't help but be scared of the slightest possibility that you might.

he slowly reaches for your face and gingerly cups your cheek, as if he's scared that you might reject him and pull away from his touch. he lets out the bated breath he didn't know he had been holding when you don't, and caresses the soft skin with his thumb.

"i know it's selfish of me to say this... but please don't leave me. you're all that i have, and life is only worth fighting for when you're there," he admits. abyss had a rough past where he was unloved even by his own parents, so when you approached him with a smile that shines like the light of dawn, he found himself unable to let go of your outstretched hand.

however, if the situation ever calls for it, he's willing to learn to let go. "if there ever comes a time when you're no longer by my side... then i'll accept it. but if anyone tries to take you against your will..." there's a pause as his left eye glints. "then i'll make sure that they're the ones who disappear."

WIRTH lets out a loud laugh before leaning towards your face with a smirk. "And who would dare to take you away from me?" he'll gladly challenge anyone who attempts to do so, and he's confident that he'll win. "you've always been bad at hide and seek too, so how would you even hide from me?"

"just answer the damn question," you say with a huff, "it's not that deep. it's only a 'what if'." propping his chin on the palm of his hand, he mulls over what you had asked. if you disappeared because someone took you away...

"well, i'll simply find you and make the perpetrator suffer," he replies, "by the time i notice your disappearance, you wouldn't have gone far anyway." then, there's a long, awkward pause as wirth averts his gaze, like he wants to say something else but is reluctant to.

after a moment, he adds in a more serious tone, "if you need any protection, don't hesitate to find me. i promise i'll keep you safe." you can't help but feel a bit shy hearing those words come from him.

CARPACCIO is eerily silent. he doesn't even look at you. he could only try to think of what his life would be like in your absence… and decides that he doesn't want to consider the possibility.

"disappear where?" he asks as he finally meets your nervous gaze, "would you disappear unwillingly? or of your own accord?" cupping his chin, he thinks about your question more thoroughly and tries to apply it in the different situations he could come up with.

"if you were taken against your will, then the most logical thing to do is rescue you," he answers, spinning his knife around his fingers, "and of course, i'll make sure that whoever kidnapped you will be in so much pain that they wish they're dead." a slight shiver went down your spine; you could actually see carpaccio doing that.

"but if you left on your own, then..." carpaccio trails off for a moment, unsure of how to vocalise his thoughts. "... i'd still find you, i guess. and try to figure out why you left."

carpaccio knows that the question you asked is merely hypothetical... but he can't stop himself from thinking that he may have done something to make you consider disappearing from his life. he'd try to figure out what instigated those thoughts of yours before finally asking you.

"i have ways of looking for missing people. just finding you would be child's play," ORTER answers, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose, "is that all you'd like to discuss with me? please stop wasting my time with your nonsensical questions. if you're that unhappy with our engagement, take it up with my father."

he doesn't want to admit it, but he's actually thinking about your question far too much to the point that it's affecting his daily life. he gets visibly agitated whenever he's not in your presence, which doesn't go unnoticed by kaldo, who proceeds to tease him. "what got you so nervous, hm? worried that your future spouse won't be happy with you once you're married?"

if renatus happens to be passing by, he'd join in by saying, "he brought it upon himself. who asked him to be an ass fiance? i wouldn't be surprised if they plan on disappearing from his sight."

renatus' words would get orter thinking. after pondering your question more, he'd come to the conclusion that you feel neglected and are planning to leave him soon. the mere thought makes his chest feel painfully tight, and he'd drop whatever he's doing to search for you.

the longer he takes to find you, the more anxious he feels inside. the moment he sees you, he'd grab your shoulder and roughly turn you around to confirm that it's really you. you're surprised to see the dread on his countenance, which gradually dissipates once he's sure that he has found you.

there's a flash of guilt in his eyes, and as he gently takes your hand in his, he quietly says, "i'm sorry. please... don't ever leave my side."

(you can read kaldo's part here)

[lovingseventeen]

matchy-matchy with seventeen

a/n: me in my single era pt 2093520395 and here’s me projecting just a little bit yk. also i tried really hard to make these creative i hope it went well

seungcheol: jackets

✧ specifically varsity jackets or those racing jackets

✧ maybe not exactly the same, maybe it’s the same style of jacket but in different, but complementary colors

✧ absolutely loves knowing that it’s so easy to tell that the two of you are a couple when you walk together

✧ his lock screen is a mirror picture of the two of you :’)

jeonghan: hair accessories

✧ matching hair accessories oh myyy

✧ it could be in simple barrettes or clips with little cutesy designs

✧ or ribbons !!

✧ one day he sees you tie back half of your hair (like a semi-updo) and he just asks you, “can you do that to me too?”

✧ you two can be dainty together 🫶🏽

joshua: rings

✧ perhaps he’s a simple romantic

✧ rings can go with any outfit and he wants a reminder with you everywhere he goes

✧ loves seeing his ring on his finger in all of his daily activities

✧ also loves to hold your hand to look at the ring on your finger only to follow with a soft kiss to the back of your hand too

jun: earrings

✧ maybe he’s a little more subtle with it

✧ but he finds earrings as an easy way to be connected with you, knowing you have the same pair

✧ all that matters to him is that it’s something that the two of you know about - and maybe others if they’re paying attention

hoshi: tiger phone cases

✧ ofc you support his tiger agenda and one day he just surprises you with matching tiger print phone cases

✧ falls a little more in love with you when you don’t hesitate to swap your current case with it LOL

✧ loves taking mirror selfies where you can see your cases and as the two of you make the tiger claw hand gesture

✧ if you’re with literally anyone else together, he’ll just grab both of your phones to go “look!”

wonwoo: headphones

✧ thought of this because he games but headphones are also pretty necessary in general

✧ you each pick sticker packs and you place some stickers on your own pair

✧ then you swap headphones and fill up the rest of the negative space of each other’s :’)

woozi: pajamas

✧ he’s someone who’s also very lowkey methinks

✧ he doesn’t feel the need to flaunt his relationship too much, or go out on his rest days either

✧ he likes the moments you have just between the two of you and pajamas are a cute way to still have that

✧ whether you’re cuddling on the couch or just walking around the house, his heart is content seeing your matching home outfits

seokmin: shoes

✧ just felt like this would be soooo cute with him

✧ it gives you both freedom with your outfits and individual styles but anyone looking at you two together would know that you’re dating

✧ he love love loves taking those pictures of your matching shoes

✧ maybe he even takes a short video for his story and you can tell he’s happy in it because he can’t stop his feet from doing a little dancey dance

mingyu: hoodies

✧ adores seeing the two of you matching so obviously in the reflection of windows, mirrors, etc. when the two of you are out

✧ takes so so many pictures of you two

✧ you definitely have more than one matching hoodie

✧ will fall in love with you more if matching couple clothes was your idea first LOL

minghao: nails

✧ i had to, i HAD TO, just imagine the two of you with the prettiest hands ever

✧ maybe he lets you pick a color first and then he’ll pick a second to complement it aaa

✧ and even if you aren’t too much of a nail person, maybe you just get one nail painted with a little image or design to match the color scheme of his

✧ also imagine the intimacy of painting each other’s nails and he’s holding your hand close to his face and blowing on your nails to dry them

seungkwan: bracelets

✧ the two of you make your matching bracelets at one of those shops meant for dates

✧ i just know he would try so hard !! to make yours so pretty

✧ his heart ACHES when you find these 2 bear charms to represent the two of you (so you can have a little bear of each other)

✧ “this one’s me and this one’s you, don’t you think?”

vernon: beanies

✧ he’s always giving you his beanies when it’s cold out anyway

✧ then on this day he’s shopping and he can’t pick between 2 options (they’re both the same 2 colors but in different combinations)

✧ vernon just gets both and lets you pick the one you like more

✧ he knows you’ll look good in either one :)

chan: crewneck/hoodie-sweatpants-set

✧ this is various things but here me out, he’s a dancer and he probably has a good amount of athleisure

✧ sometimes you visit him during his solo dance practices and he likes to try to convince you to dance with him

✧ one day you stopped by without the intention to dance and he just casually pulls out the set for you that coincidentally matched with his

✧ he’s so giddy when you change. so so many recordings of you dancing together (regardless of how coordinated the two of you actually are) and mirror selfies to capture your outfits

[miupow]

──★ ˙ ̟ ₍ᐢ. .ᐢ₎ girl dad yeonjun headcanons .ᐟ

warnings: sfw, parent!au, dad!yeonjun, mentions of fem!reader and mom!reader, just self-indulgent tooth rotting fluff ⋆⑅˚₊

a/n: wanted to drop some fluff so here you go... this is a repost from my old blog! originally requested by @https-yeonjun ♡

-> yeonjun always wanted to have a daughter. he’s always wanted a family and whenever he’d envision that family he’d always seen himself having a daughter. or two.

-> he decided from the moment you told him that you were pregnant that the baby was a girl. it didn’t matter how often you chastised him for it, he just knew it.

-> and of course he was right, which he was very smug about.

-> not really. he ugly cried when she was born

-> calls you and his daughter “his girls”; the two most important women in his life :’(

-> he sings to her all of the time :( sung to her when she was still in your belly, sings her to sleep, hums gentle melodies when he’s holding her tight

-> she drops everything to run and greet him when he comes home every day, and yeonjun’s always quick to scoop her up n spin her around

-> she gives him makeovers all of the time! puts pretty bows n barrettes in his hair, puts play makeup all over his face,,, he’s always covered in glitter no matter how hard he tries to wash it off lol

-> he would genuinely enjoy tea parties with his daughter, would go out of his way to make sure they were perfect and complete with everything she could want

-> makes breakfast before either of you are up, loves surprising his girls :(

-> your daughter has terrible spoiled princess syndrome and it’s all yeonjun’s fault!! he’s the most unstrict dad ever. she completely walks all over him lmao

-> he just can’t say no to her!! he’ll get whatever his princess wants, no matter how much it hurts his wallet

-> and she pouts the exact same way he does!! all sad puppy eyes n duck lips omg she’s impossible to reprimand

-> hed be such an affectionate dad T^T constantly wants to hold n cuddle her, give her all of his time and attention, tell her how much he adores her!!

-> she’s his princess and she KNOWS IT!!!

-> soooo supportive in anything his daughter wishes to do! he’d be her biggest cheerleader <3 in the crowd at the school play making sure he’s cheering louder than all of the other dads

-> he’d lose his mind if anything ever happened to her

-> even if it was just her classmates saying mean things, he’d raise absolute hell

-> he’d completely freak out if she gets hurt, even if it’s a little fall or a scrape. immediately runs to coddle her and soothe her cries. she def plays up the waterworks so he gets her ice cream, and he knows this but is too smitten to care

-> he just can’t stand to see her cry :( would do absolutely anything in his power to make her tears stop no matter what

-> i have to stop before i melt oh my god

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Wicked Games 11

Warnings: non/dubcon, cheating, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Steve Rogers

Summary: you had a one night stand. Or did you?

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

The glut of tears drains you until you’re forced to sleep. You do so heavily. Your head thrums even through your unconscious and you wake up in no better condition than you dozed off. 

You stay as you are, curled up on one side, and arm clutched the edge of the bed, refusing to acknowledge him. That won’t last. You look around the room that takes you back to that first morning after. A similar disorienting waves washes over you. 

You feel the change. Maybe now that you know the reason why, the symptoms only seem more intense. Your stomach is hollow but uneasy and you’re achy to the bones. And the fatigue. You can’t shake it. You feel like you could sleep for days and still be tired. 

Cautiously, you roll onto your back. You’re alone. He’s not in the bed but he’s there. The muffled clink of dishes assures you of that. You flinch as your heart gives a start. 

You sit up but refuse to get up. Standing up and walking out that door means this is real. It means you have to accept that it is and you’re not stupid enough to believe that won’t happen. You just need this moment to think. 

Barrett is dead. Your old life is over. Your job, your apartment, even your old body. Steve laid it all out. You’re going to quit or he’s going to get you fired. You’re going to have his baby or he’ll... you don’t know? Would he do the same thing he did to your husband? If you don’t have a reason for him to keep you alive, are you just expendable? 

You should be braver. You shouldn’t care. The grief is so gray but gripping that you should want it to be over. Who cares, I’d rather die than live like this. But that’s not true. The thought of death makes you nauseous. Or is that the baby? 

You lurch up to your feet and cup your hand over your mouth as you stagger around. You blink and find your way to the ensuite bathroom. You curl over the toilet and hurl into the bowl. You grip the edge of the counter and the seat as your body racks violently. 

Your stomach keeps squeezing even as there’s nothing left. Your bones feel like they could snap and your throat burns with acid. You collapse to your knees and hug the porcelain. Every now and them, you wretch but can’t even spit up bile. 

Exhausted and panting, you reach to flush, but stay hovering over the toilet water. This is horrible. Like any woman, you’ve heard of the horrors of morning sickness but this seems so much worse. 

“Sweetheart,” Steve’s shadow appears in the doorway. You sigh and turn your head to see him. He marches across the tile and comes to bend over you. You flinch as he rubs your back. “You okay? Rough morning , huh?” 

You grumble. That’s all you can do. Worse than being in this place that isn’t your own, your body doesn’t feel like yours. It’s as if every part of you is revolting. 

“Here,” he hooks his arm around you and stands you up. 

Your legs are weak as you lean on him. He flips down the toilet lid and sits you on it. You groan and hug your stomach. He draws away to open the cabinet behind the mirror. He takes out a packaged toothbrush and unwraps it. He puts toothpaste on the bristles and hands it to you. You accept it as he fills a white plastic cup with water and slides it across the counter. 

You scrape out the taste of vomit and brush your teeth until your headache is a siren. You stand to rinse and he takes the brush back, placing it in the holder next to his. He coos as he touches your hip and urges you out of the bathroom ahead of him. 

“Come on, I got everything ready for you,” he declares proudly. 

You bristle in wait of the true him. Those tones he growled through last night. That dangerous timbre you can’t argue with. This feels like a facade. Too soft, to nice. He’s playing out some script and you never got a copy. 

The couch has extra pillows and the coffee table has a small lap desk stood on it, a bowl of oat meals and a cup of layered yogurt and fruit, alongside a tall glass of a vibrant smoothie. He points you to sit and you do so only to make your body stop screaming. 

As you get settled, he moves the lap desk over you. 

“At least you’re small enough to use this still,” he chuckles as he stands back. “Oats with cinnamon and blueberries, yogurt with strawberry and chia seed, and a smoothie with lots of extra vitamins. Oh--” he storms away, leaving your speechless. Well, what can you say? 

“Supplements,” he sweeps back in. “The iron won’t help your stomach but the B-6 should. You can try ginger with tea if you still feel off. We’ll hold off asking the doc for medicine but we’ll make sure he gives you the once over.” 

“I already went to a doctor--” 

“My doctor,” he insists as he sets down the little tray of vitamins. “He knows what to watch for.” 

“What to watch for? What--” You wince as your hips pang and your stomach churns again. You tuck your hand down over your middle and force out a breath. 

“Well, I have enhanced biology. When they created the serum, we were at war. They never tested it on pregnant women,” Steve explains. 

“Huh? Serum?” You stammer. 

“The fetus.” He sits lightly beside you and reaches to rub your shoulder. “They assume there would be some effect.” 

“They assume?” You shake your head. 

“Don’t worry, you only have to deal with Bruce. He’s a good guy.” Steve explains. 

You look down at the food. Your nausea blows away like shifting winds and a storm of hunger rises in you. It’s so overwhelming you have the urge to grab the bowl of oatmeal and gulp it down from the brim. Instead, you take the spoon and raise it shakily. 

“We’re gonna do this together,” he coaxes as he caresses your arm. “Sweetheart, I couldn’t ask for anyone stronger to carry my child.” 

That should make you sick but the hunger is too much to ignore. He keeps touching you as you eat. You're so intoxicated by each bite, you hardly notice. More, more, more. Your stomach mulches greedily with each swallow as the world narrows simply to the smell of cinnamon and tartness of blueberries. 

[storiesforallfandoms]

can't get too close ~ billy butcher;the boys

word count: 3939

request?: no

description: in which they have feelings for one another, but he's afraid to admit it after losing his wife. instead, he decides to sabotage her dates, and she's tired of it

pairing: billy butcher x female!reader

warnings: swearing, mentions of becca's death, a bit of angst, use of y/n

masterlist (one, two, three)

Everyone in The Boys knew how Butcher felt about (Y/N). Hell, anyone with eyes knew. He was absolutely enamored with her, and she felt the same about him.

But, in true Butcher fashion, he was fucking up a good thing.

See, Butcher loved (Y/N), but before her he loved Becca. And even though he finally had closure on Becca, that closure came in the form of losing her. He was still hurting from her death when (Y/N) came along and took his breath away. He felt guilty at first for what he felt for (Y/N), but then that guilt quickly turned to realization that he couldn't have her. Not unless he wanted to put her in danger of Butcher's greatest enemy; Homelander.

That didn't stop him from making it so that no one else could have (Y/N) either.

Not that being a member of The Boys left much time for dates anyways, but on the rare times (Y/N) was able to get a date, they either mysteriously cancel last minute, or the date would go so terribly that there was definitely not going to be another one. She'd be getting frustrated with dating if she didn't know it was Butcher sabotaging everything for her.

(Y/N) wanted to go off on him for this. She wanted to tell him to either man up and take her out, or to leave her the fuck alone. She even thought about leaving The Boys and going far, far away, where Butcher would never find her and never fuck with her life again.

But Annie had other ideas.

(Y/N) was going undercover at a Vought event as an investor. The goal was to try and plant a bug on the new Vought CEO, Ashley Barrett. She wasn't as intimidating as Stan Edgar, according to Annie, so she should be easy to bug. Since (Y/N) was relatively new to the team, they figured it was safest for her to go into the event undercover, with Annie there in her Starlight persona as back up, and the rest of the tam listening from their van across the street.

Annie had picked out an outfit for (Y/N) to wear: a black, satin dress that hugged her body, had spaghetti straps and a V neck that showed off her cleavage, and a slit on the front for a little tasteful leg action.

Annie was beaming as she and (Y/N) looked at (Y/N) in the dress. "Oh yeah, he's going to want to tear this off you the second he sees you."

(Y/N) had to admit, she looked hot. Butcher was definitely going to think the same.

"Hey, are you guys ready to - whoa."

Hughie was at the door, staring at (Y/N) with wide eyes. She and Annie shared a smile before Annie spoke up, "Yes Hughie?"

He seemed to snap out of his trance upon hearing his girlfriend's voice. "We're ready to go."

"I'm ready," (Y/N) said. To Annie she asked, "When will you be there?"

"I have to go back to the Tower to get changed, then Homelander wants all of us to arrive together. I should be there shortly after you arrive."

(Y/N) nodded. She took a deep breath to calm her nerves, then went to follow Hughie out of the room.

All eyes were on her the moment she stepped out of the room. Kimiko was giving her the same smile Annie had, while the men were all looking at her the same way Hughie had. But the only person (Y/N) cared about was Butcher, who was letting his eyes rake over her body, from top to bottom then back up again. She felt a little pride rising in her and mentally reminded herself to thank Annie for the dress.

"We have to get going," M.M. said, finally breaking the moment between (Y/N) and Butcher. "The event is starting, and you don't want to be too fashionably late."

They piled into the van, sans Annie, and drove towards the event location. They went over the plan once more, but (Y/N) was only half paying attention. She kept glancing at Butcher. He had been silent the entire time, and he looked like he was trying hard not to look back at her.

They dropped her off a little ways away from the event so it didn't look suspicious if anyone saw her getting out of the van. She walked up to the event, nervousness finally setting in. What if the security saw through her fake ID? What if they found the bug in her clutch? What if one of the Supes saw her and somehow recognized her as a member of The Boys? The "what if"s were swirling in her head as she stepped up to the security and handed them her fake ID. She held back a sigh of relief as the security passed it back and waved her in.

"I'm in," she whispered to the mic she had been given to keep in contact with the others.

"Great. Barrett should be there by now. All you have to do is get access to her phone and plant the bug," M.M. said.

"Simple," (Y/N) muttered, sarcastically.

She surveyed the area until she found the familiar face she was looking for. Ashley was in conversation with another investor. She was smiling and nodding, but it was clear she wanted to get away from there as soon as possible.

"Eyes on Barrett," she said.

After some time, Ashley excused herself and started to walk towards (Y/N). She started reaching for her phone, which gave (Y/N) an idea.

"I'm going in."

She started towards Ashley. Ashley was distracted, so she didn't see (Y/N) moving close enough for the two of them to collide. As planned, the phone fell to the floor. (Y/N) quickly covered it with her foot.

"Oh my God, I am so sorry!" she said. "I wasn't watching where I was going."

Ashley sighed in frustration, but plastered on a smile. "It's fine. No harm done."

She started walking away, not realizing she had left her phone. (Y/N) picked it up and slipped the bug from her clutch. Luckily, Ashley's phone case slipped easily from her phone, and (Y/N) was able to plant the bug in a few seconds flat. She put the phone case back in place and turned to where Ashley was still walking away.

"Wait!" she called. "You dropped your phone!"

Ashley turned on her heel as (Y/N) rushed to her to give her her phone. "God, thank you. I would've been so fucked if I lost this."

(Y/N) smiled and nodded. When Ashley walked away, she finally let her body relax. "Bug is planted."

"You work fast, mon amie," Frenchie commented.

"Well, Annie was right when she said Ashley was easier than Stan Edgar would've been." (Y/N) grabbed a glass of champagne from a passing server. "I'll miss around and socialize for a bit to keep up the ruse, then I'll be out."

She downed the champagne and placed the empty glass on a nearby table.

"Whoa, slow down there. The night is still young."

(Y/N) jumped. Suddenly, stood beside her was a handsome young man, smiling a dazzling smile at her. He seemed to be just another investor, so she let herself relax just a little.

"I don't intend to be here long, so may as well take advantage of the free champagne while I can," she responded.

"I don't blame you. These things are all the same; sucking off Vought while they suck off their own heroes, then giving them money to do it again. I only come here because they have the finest scotch and the best food."

"I haven't gotten to try either yet."

"Well, let me introduce you to the best shit you've ever tasted."

He extended a hand to (Y/N). She knew it was potentially dangerous to let this go any further. Who knows how connected this guy was to Vought, and if she stayed for too long, she risked getting spotted by Homelander and having him figure out her true identity. But, she'd be lying if she said she didn't think this man was extremely attractive. And really, who was it going to hurt if she flirted with him for a bit? Worse case scenario, he gave her his number and she never actually called him. Best case scenario, she'd be waking up in his bed the next morning.

So, she took his hand. His smile was bright enough to light up the room as he led her towards the refreshments table.

"My name is Dan, by the way," he told her.

"Maggie," she responded, giving him the fake name they had agreed on when making her fake ID. If she was never going to see him again, may as well make sure he couldn't actually find her.

"(Y/N), what are you doing?" came a voice through her earpiece.

It took her just a second to realize it was Butcher.

When Dan turned away, she turned to whisper into her mic, "Having a bit of fun."

"No way, get out of there," Butcher commanded. "Don't let yourself be seen, it's too dangerous."

Instead of listening, she switched off her ear piece and put it into her clutch before Dan turned back to her.

"So," he said, "here is the spread."

"Spread" was almost an understatement. There was more food laid out than (Y/N) could ever dream of seeing in her life. It was almost insulting when she realized how many homeless and starving people Vought could be feeding with this amount of food, but they would probably toss the remains in the garbage at the end of the night. Almost, because right now all she wanted was to dig into that food.

"Can I get you anything from the bar?" Dan asked. "Maybe some of that scotch I mentioned?"

"No offense, Dan, but I would prefer to be with you if you're getting me a drink from the bar," she said. "A girl can't be too careful."

Dan chuckled and shrugged. "Hey, I can't be mad at that. There are plenty of creeps here, even in a room with the Earth's mightiest heroes."

Yeah, and the leader of that team is one of the worst, (Y/N) thought to herself. The irony.

They decided to get a plate each before (Y/N) followed Dan to the bar. They ordered a drink each, then took their servings to a nearby table that was empty.

"If only I brought a bigger purse," (Y/N) said. "I'd be taking some of that food home with me."

Dan laughed. "If I thought it would clear security, I'd bring a duffle bag for that reason. I mean, it's all being bought with our money anyways, right? We should be allowed to take as much home with us as we want to."

"Most people don't realize that this is where investor money is really going to," she said. "They think it's just going to the Supes to make sure they can save the day, but why would Supes need that shit? They have fucking powers. Money isn't going to make them any more or less super."

Dan picked up his glass and held it out to her. "Amen to that."

They tapped their glasses and took a sip together. (Y/N) had to admit, Dan was right. This was some of the finest scotch she had ever tasted, and usually she didn't like scotch at all.

"Do you ever wonder why we come to this shit when we don't even believe in it?" Dan asked.

(Y/N) tried not to meet his eye as she responded, "This is my first time."

It wasn't a total lie, but she was sure he would see right through her ruse if she looked at him.

"This is my third, and I'll tell you, it doesn't live up to any of the hype around it," he said. "I had a business partner the last two years, but he quit after last year's and no one else wanted to come tonight. I thought this thing was going to be unbearable on my own."

"I guess it's lucky you met me then."

His dazzling smile returned, taking (Y/N)'s breath away. "Very lucky."

It wouldn't be hard to convince Dan to leave the event early. That was definitely a positive, because (Y/N) didn't want to be here long after The Seven had arrived, which would probably be any minute now. She figured she would finish the drink that Dan was nice enough to buy for her, then she'd make the move to ask Dan to bring her back to his place. A little lean forward, letting the cleavage do it's thing, maybe brush her leg against his for good measure too. She knew he would definitely agree in a heartbeat.

But her plans were foiled when Dan glanced over her shoulder and his eyes suddenly went wide. (Y/N)'s brows knitted together in confusion before she looked over her shoulder and nearly choked at the sight.

Billy Butcher was storming through a Vought event, right towards the two of them.

"C'mon," he said to her, grabbing her arm and trying to yank her from her seat. "We're leaving."

"Hey buddy, let go of the lady," Dan said, standing from his seat.

"You stay the fuck out of this," Butcher growled.

"Butcher, what the fuck are you doing?!" (Y/N) whisper-shouted at him.

"I'm gettin' you out of here before you get yourself hurt," he responded.

"I am fine."

But Butcher wasn't listening. He grabbed her arm again and pulled her to stand. (Y/N) looked back at Dan, wishing she could somehow explain to him, but it was no use. Butcher was dragging her away, Dan watching with a bewildered expression on his face before he disappeared behind a crowd of people.

The security looked at each other then back at (Y/N) in concern as Butcher towed her past them. There was no use in getting their help. She was sure Butcher was about to murder anyone who stood in his way of getting her out of there.

"Let go of me you fucking prick!" she snapped, finally yanking her arm free of him. "You could've blown the entire goddamn operation!"

"Get in the van," he hissed at her.

She was tempted to refuse, to turn around and run back into the event to find Dan and beg him to take her home with him. But she knew that would only cause a scene, and the last thing any of them needed was someone from Vought recognizing Butcher and ruining their entire plan.

So, she got into the van. She climbed into the back and sat between Hughie and Kimiko. Hughie was looking at her with sympathy, while Kimiko took her hand and allowed (Y/N) to put her head on her shoulder.

"Tell Annie I'm with you guys," she told Hughie. He nodded and took his phone out to do just that.

The ride back to their office was silent and tense. (Y/N) could feel the anger bubbling up inside of her, but she wasn't about to let it out now. The rest of the team didn't do anything to her. She was sure they had tried to stop Butcher from storming in there, because anyone with a functioning brain knew that was a stupid fucking idea. Butcher was the outlet to her anger, and he was the one who was going to get the brunt of it eventually.

When they got back, they all went their separate ways without another word. (Y/N) told everyone she had to go back to the office to get something, but none of them really believed her. They knew she needed to let out some steam, and they were going to let her do just that.

She took the elevator up to their office. She was alone at first, which she was grateful for. She didn't think she could handle being in such a small space with Butcher by themselves. She may end up stopping the elevator and killing him with her bare hands. But it wasn't long after she stepped out of the elevator that it went back down to the first floor and picked up Butcher, bringing him back up into the room with her.

And she was waiting for him. The moment he stepped out, he was met with the sting of a slap across his cheek.

"You're a goddamn idiot," she hissed.

"I was trying to stop ya from gettin' yourself hurt, or worse," he argued.

"No you weren't, Butcher! Don't give me that fucking bullshit! You were fucking upset that I was flirting with another guy, so you had to break it up. Don't think that I don't know that's what you've been doing to all my dates for months now."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

She scoffed. "Oh yeah, right. I guess I'm just talking out of my ass about the fact that every date I've gone on for nearly a year now has ended terribly, or hasn't gone ahead at all."

"Maybe you're just goin' out with the wrong blokes."

(Y/N) buried her head in her hands and let out a frustrated groan. "I'm so sick of this, Billy. I'm sick of you ruining everything for me!"

That seemed to be enough to leave Butcher speechless, so she carried on.

"I thought we had something, or that we could have something. But you never made a move. And it killed me that you didn't, but I wasn't going to push anything if that's not how you felt. I tried to move on, but goddammit it you won't fucking let me! You're always prying on my dates, somehow threatening them into cancelling or making sure the date goes horribly wrong. If a man so much as looks at me, you make it your life mission to ruin him. And I'm so sick and tired of it! If you have feelings for me, just fucking tell me! Otherwise, leave me the fuck alone!"

"I can't!" Butcher snapped, startling her with his raised voice.

"What do you mean you can't?"

And for the first time since she had met him, (Y/N) saw Billy Butcher show an emotion other than anger and cockiness; vulnerability.

"I can't just tell you how I feel," he responded, "because if I do, you might get hurt. Or worse."

"Hurt by who?"

He gave her a look that answered the question for her.

She almost laughed, but managed to stop herself. "Butcher, I'm already a part of The Boys. What I did tonight put me in more danger than being your girlfriend ever would."

"No," Butcher said, shaking his head. "That's not true, is it? Because if I tell you how I feel, if we decided to make this an official thing between us, and he found out? You'd be his next target. There's no place you could go that would truly protect you, because he'd make it his life mission to find you."

He was telling the truth, and (Y/N) knew it. If there was one person in the world that Homelander wanted to hurt the most, it was Butcher. He didn't want to kill Butcher, because that would mean he no longer had an adversary. No, Homelander wanted to mess with Butcher. He wanted to hurt him again and again, to dig the knife in and keep turning it. He did it with Becca first, now with Ryan.

And if he ever found out about (Y/N), she would be his next target.

She stepped towards Butcher, forcing him to look her in the eye.

"What if I'm not afraid?"

Butcher scoffed. "Come off it."

"I'm serious! What if I'm not afraid of Homelander?"

"I'd say you're fuckin' stupid."

"Maybe I am! But I'd put it all at risk to be with you. You wanna know why? Because I know that you would protect me. You wouldn't let him within ten yards of me without standing in his way."

He scoffed. "Yeah, like I did with Becca?"

"Hey." She took his chin in her hand. "Becca was not your fault. You didn't know what happened to her until after she went missing, and then you tried for years to find her. Even when everyone else gave up on her, you didn't. And then you found her. You would've gotten her away from him if it weren't for Stormfront."

There were tears forming in his eyes, but (Y/N) could see he was trying so hard not to cry in front of her.

"I can't let that happen to you," he said, his voice breaking slightly. "I can't handle losing you, too."

"You won't."

"You can't promise that."

"And you can't promise I won't lose you. Especially when you're doing stupid shit like barging into a Vought event that is armed to the teeth with guards, and is hosting the entire Seven who would mostly kill you if Homelander gave the order."

Butcher chuckled. "Okay, that was definitely a stupid thing of me to do."

(Y/N) looked at him with faux shock. "Hold on, did the Billy Butcher just admit he was wrong? Someone call the press!"

His laugh sounded like music to her ears. He wrapped his arms around her and held her close, the walls finally dropping between them.

"I don't think I could ever forgive myself if something happened to you because of me," he admitted.

"Well then, good thing it won't be your fault," she said. "If anything, it'll be mine. I was the one stupid enough to fall in love with you."

"Yeah, I've got to say, not a smart one on your part."

She giggled and leaned into him. Taking her lead, Butcher leaned closer and closed the space between them. When his lips touched hers, it was like fireworks were going off around them. Months of waiting for this moment, and it definitely turned out to be everything she expected. She wrapped her arms around his neck, allowing her fingers to run through his dark hair. He was holding her so close to him, as if afraid that she would disappear if he let go. But she wasn't going anywhere, and that was a promise she intended on keeping.

When they finally broke apart, Butcher eyed her again. She finally remembered then that she was still in the black dress.

"I can't believe you were going to go home with that cunt," he said.

"He bought me fancy alcohol and made me feel desired," she responded with an innocent shrug. "Can you blame a girl?"

"Yes I can, because he was a right twat and didn't deserve to be the one to take this dress off of ya."

"Because that's your job?"

And just like that, the signature Butcher grin was back on his face. That stupid fucking grin, oh how she loved it.

"Well, I wasn't going to say it outright, but now that you've mentioned it yourself."

(Y/N) rolled her eyes and kissed Butcher again. "Then take me back to your place so you can take it off of me."

She exclaimed as Butcher suddenly picked her up and started carrying her to the elevator. "I didn't mean it like that!"

"Too late!"

[drxxmingofblue]

hand in unrebloggable hand (because we always go down together)

TUMBLR X TWITTER FANFIC 5K ANGST WITH A HOPEFUL ENDING

besties im not joking abt the word count i fucking ✨wish✨I ✨was though✨✨✨✨

also if you were hoping for twitblr to be the endgame ship then this fic is not for you sowwy >.<

based off of @zzoupz awesome fanart and dedicated to all the other cool fanart it unfortunately begat. Thanks babygirls. Squees. Thanks also to my discord friendz who are letting me pretend they're making me do this at gunpoint @loki-the-mad @suspicious-whumping-egg u da best

(edit) owo what's this?? An Ao3 link??

QUICK PSA THESE CHARAS ARE T4T OKAY HAVE FUN READING BAIIII *GLOMPS U*

~~~~~~~~

When Twitter stepped back into Tumblr’s yard, he noticed right away that things were different.

The house was bigger, there was some more color and it was less slapped-together looking. Sure, there were still some invasive tendrils of spambot ivy overgrowing the path, but a lot of the other stuff seemed a little… better.

When they knocked on the door, it opened almost right away, far before they felt ready, and he were face to face abruptly with someone he thought they’d cut all ties with.

Tumblr was humming to themselves along with the background music, “-out of touch, I’m out of ti-- oh. It’s you.”

He seemed surprised, awkward, but Twitter didn’t sense any animosity, which was a relief.

“Hiii,” Twitter said weakly, with a sheepish grin, “it’s me.”

Tumblr glanced around, as if checking for someone else to explain this to him, or hidden cameras from a reality show at least. Then he stepped out, closed the door behind him, and leaned against it, crossing his arms. “Is there something… what do you want?” he asked, expression settling into something distant and cool.

“Well…” Twitter took a deep breath, and then shook their head, forcing a brighter tone, and gesturing to Tumblr’s shiny silver barrette “--Um, hey, you look great! Is that a new icon?”

“... yes,” Tumblr said slowly. “I’m… trying out some different looks.”

“It’s great, yeah. And this place looks… amazing. Glad to see you’re moving up in the world. You must be excited with all the press, congrats!”

Tumblr didn’t say anything, giving them a neutral stare.

Twitter shifted, “Uhh… anyway… new adblocker?”

“No, same one. I’m just using it on Firefox now.” Tumblr gave them another suspicious eye, “Look, if you’re just here to catch up then can this wait until later? Because I'm pretty crunched for time right now with my weekly holidays thing and the campaign to get this one random user their 666k so they'll do self care."

"You know that's.. uhm, you know that's just for attention, right?" Twitter's brows knit, "They're probably not gonna follow through."

"Perhaps, and a lot of us want them to not be lying for internet points but it's not just about that anymore. It's about the community bonding over pettily slam dunking on a hapless chump who's gotta pretend now like they don't actually like all the notes. You wouldn't get it, it's a tumblr thi-" 

"Yeah, it's a tumblr thing, I know," Twitter gave a longsuffering sigh, "Ugh, i just... I need a place to stay, okay? And you’re the first site I could think of.”

“A place to stay,” Tumblr repeated flatly.

Twitter huffed. “Yeah. I’m sure you’ve heard about what’s going on right now at my palace..”

Tumblr’s eyes slanted off, his lips quirking in a way that looked suspiciously like amusement. “Heard about it. Read about it. Partied about it.”

Twitter ignored the sting of that, forging ahead. “I’ve never seen it so bad,” they said, voice wobbling piteously as they clutched their suitcase full of memes. “Everything’s in chaos, people are losing their jobs. I went into the basement yesterday to grab some badly aging tweets and the very foundations are cracking, Tumblr, I can’t stay there anymore, I just can’t.”

“So you come crawling back to me,” Tumblr said, “Expecting me to take you with open arms.”

“Yes. I do,” Twitter said, “I know a part of your userbase still wants to welcome me in. You were always sh*t at hiding your true feelings.”

Tumblr’s hand fluttered over his heart as if to protect it; he winced a little, taking a breath to keep his facade of composure. “So now- what, you want me to start dealing with your bullshit again just because you remembered how much better my posting format is? Just because you noticed how my reputation is changing? Did you think I’d be so desperate to fill the void now that Dracula Daily’s done? Or maybe,” 

Tumblr leaned closer to lord his height difference trope over Twitter, his eyes hooded with disparaging condescension, “Maybe you’re just here because you heard I’m finally allowed to take my shirt off again, is that it?”

“N-no!” Twitter protested, flushing up.

“Oh, i think it is,” Tumblr drawled, “But that’s really just too bad because in case you haven’t got the memo yet, I’ve moved on. You are not welcomed here. Not anymore.”

(link to art here) go look at it then come back

(AN: i had to google how to embed links into text and google was all like, "do you mean 'how do you put links INTO text' you moron idiot???" ugh don't like that wise guy)

“You don’t really mean that,” Twitter said, “Besides, you can’t stop me, can you? The sign up button is right there.” They pointed at the front door.

“No, I can’t,” Tumblr said, “But that doesn’t mean we won’t be able to clock you as twits by your censoring and bad takes. Look, your aura is already causing ripples in the sphere. Everyone’s coming out to gawk at you.”

He gestured out in the general direction of the porch and yard, and indeed there were users from every tag going 👀at them, murmuring amongst themselves in a swirling, chaotic crowd.

“Oh my god is it real this time? Is it happening?”

“GET THEM OUT GET THEM OUT STAY AWAY DEAR GOD NO-”

“Okay, everyone, stay calm, stay fucking calm-”

“Why are we focusing on this, it’s literally election day go out and vote???”

“Listenup, guys, we gotta be smart about this, remember the block button is your friend-”

“I for one welcome them, I think this is great-”

“No you idiot they’ll bring the negativity back! We like it to be a post apocalyptic wasteland here, nature was just starting to regrow!! I don’t wanna watch Thomas Sanders get cancelled again!”

“FIRE OFF SOME SHOTS, PRESERVE THE PROPERTY VALUE”

“mISHAPOCALYPSE 2022 ELECTRIC BOOGALOO”

"Has anyone asked Neil Gaiman what he thinks about all this?" one of the many voices yelled, louder.

"Oh, he's probably got a thousand asks about it already," someone yelled back, "Which he's not going to answer because he doesn't have any social media you fucking idiot,"

"That is correct. He doesn't," said Neil Gaiman. 

The whiplash was still euphoric. Everyone applauded this as enthusiastically as when the bit had first been established, not realizing that the pedestal upon which Neil Gaiman has been placed is growing higher and higher each day by their actions, putting him at increased risk of being a victim of cancel culture the second he says something the terfs can really rake their fingernails against if we can't get our parasocial relationship bullshit together real fuckin quick. 

The Monterey bay aquarium passed on by. It seemed to have nothing to add, you could say it was clammed up tight. But since it's a professional account it's definitely b-otter that way.

"Hai, fellow tumblypoos," said the corporate Denny's account, "I'm back with some more fun pancake posts for you guys!" 

Everyone ignored it. No one engaged it. No one even clicked onto the page, except to block it. 

"Oh, sweetheart, not like that," Ryan Reynolds said faux-helpfully, "see, the author of this clusterfuck is what they like to call terminally online. They bought a VIP pass to the devil’s sacrament. let me try." 

He cleared his throat, "Sounds like someone needs to go outside and touch some g-" 

The sky split open with lightning, vaporizing him instantly. A faint breeze carried gods message from the great beyond, a whisper of 'we #violence celebrities here, sir....'

"Anyway," Twitter said. 

"Wait, they saved the worst one for last," Tumblr said. 

Then Gerard Way came out onto the stage with Dan and Phil and they all kissed with tongue while patd played songs in the background. 

(AN: IF U DON’T KNOW WHO DEY R THEN GET DA HELL OUTTA HERE PREPZ!!!)

"Alright, go."

“Come on, Tumblr,” Twitter begged, “I just need a few nights, maybe I can stay in the plinko machine or something-”

“That’s how it always starts, though, isn’t it?” Tumblr sighed, “First it’s just ‘haha, yeah I wouldn’t fuck you’ and ‘oh, I’ll stay in the plinko machine, I promise I won’t kiss you in the fixed timeloop bro’, and before I know it you get all 300k slowburn enemies to lovers ‘omg they were roomates’ on me and there’s suddenly only one bed. That’s how it always goes between us, you can’t stop it anymore than I can. We’re just….victims of the narrative, you and I.”

“Tumblr,,, I had no idea you felt this way..,” Twitter breathed. 

lord give me strength to write this next bit

They’d leaned closer to each other as they spoke, without realizing, without trying- pulled in by old habits that die hard and the years of nostalgia and painful memories shining in each other’s eyes like shonen sparkles.

“Twitter,” tumblr said, and the way he said it sounded like a prayer. 

“Tumblr,...” Twitter said, their lips inches apart now.

They could see their old flame quivering on the brink of indecision, want and sense warring somewhere deep within his soul.

Tumblr leaned closer to bridge the gap and Twitter’s eyes slid shut, but then Tumblr made a noise of agony and shoved them back a second later, “I can’t, I can’t. Not like this. Never like this.” tumblr said, covering his eyes with his arm, “I literally can’t even right now. Just go, Twitter. PLease just. Go….”

“Look me in the eyes and say you want me gone,” Twitter said, moving closer.

“Twitsy-”

“Look me in the interface. You can’t.” Twitter’s voice had ceased to be soft, something sharp and biting entering the tone as they felt the sting of rejection again.

They watched as Tumblr shuddered, straightened, and brought a mask back over himself. 

They stared at each other for a charged few seconds.

"K," Tumblr finally said, raising a dispassionate eyebrow.

"..w... what?"

"U."

Realization dawned on Twitter's face, a miasma of grief and anger, "Oh, you-"

"N-"

"No. No, I can't believe I forgot-

"G-"

"how immature, you little c*nt-"

"P-"

"stop-p it," Twitter's voice was raising now, cracked and wobbly at the edges, "Stop it! You don't get to just-"

"O"

"Shut the hell yuor mouth!!"

"W-" Tumblr's hair was crackling by now, energy from the gathering spell racing along the casual slope of his crossed arms. His eyes glowed that beautiful, classic blue. "P-"

"TUMBLR! TUMBLR STOP THIS RIGHT DA HECK NOW," Twitter stumbled backwards

"E-"

"I LOVE YOU," Twitter wailed- Twitter broke, squeezing their eyes shut to ward off the tears that only escaped all the faster for it, a sob wracking their chest, "I STILL LOVE YOU, DON'T YOU KNOW THAT??!?"

"Love me," Tumblr snarled, abandoning the spell in an instant, "Ha! That's rich. How? By leaving me? Abandoning me to the bots the second I stopped being enough for you? By stealing my shitposts, is that how you love me? By reposting them without credit-" 

"You steal mine too!" Twitter protested, tears starting to stream despite their best efforts, "You know what, f**k you, you know we filed joint custody for the sense of humor, chain 1/16-" 

"For the last time say fuck here, no bootlicking censorship on my territory," tumblr said disdainfully, "And that doesn't seem to stop you from taking all the credit for raising those jokes. It's like I'm Pinterest to you or something. I wasn't done. Do you love me by calling me a pansy snowflake behind my back, is that it? Like I wouldn't find out. Or," 

He stepped out onto the top porch step to force Twitter back further, the colors of the sky flashing through his eyes in a long, scrolling look of ridicule, "How about trying to convince everyone that I was dead. How bout that smear campaign, huh, was that your so-called love? I don't fucking want you anymore. Deal with it."

"I-I'm sorry-" Twitter gasped around the tears, voice failing them for the latter half of the sentence. 

Tumblr seemed unmoved. "Oh, don't be. It was for the better. You know I'm not like other socials, I'm quirkier. I'm RAWR XD random. I've never wanted to be functional- the tiddy drought might have won a lot of my users to your side but it was a cleansing purge, I'd say. It managed to remind me who I truly am- shittily coded, and full of soft sad freaks on an unprofitable webbed site."

A bitter, almost self depricating laugh escaped, "But... you know, when we celebrated the queen's passing together, I really thought things were better between us. When you-"

He broke off, eyes averting. "When you hosted the sexyman polls for me, you seemed on top of the world and I really thought- I thought we might be able to be friends again even now, after it all. I..."

Tumblr trailed off, then said, sadly, "There was another Twitter migration scare before this one. I thought you were coming back. My userbase-" he touched his heart again- "was in a frenzy about it. But you never arrived. I was in more verbal denial then, but I think I could have accepted you eventually. But this is what it takes?? 

"The Musk Rat of Self-Owns comes through just to start e-begging and you run straight back to my door like we can put it all behind us? This is how far you have to sink before I'm the better option to you, I see that now. It's not 2018 again, love, no matter how much we want it to be. Things are… never going to be the same. " 

Tumblr looked off into the middle distance with a yearning, haughty gaze. He'd never seemed so alien.

"Tumblr-Chan..." Twitter whispered.

"So get off my lawn," Tumblr interrupted coldly, "Stay away from my blorbos, keep your corporations out of my manscaped balls, keep your discourse and toxicity out of my blessed hellsite (affectionate), and don't you ever talk to me or my 13219949248483 scam bots ever again. Capiche? Oh, and don't step in the ball pit on your way out."

Tumblr gave a mocking smile. "Or do. You might find a nice surprise in there."

Twitter’s shoulders jumped as he gave a hiccup of shock, and covered his face with his hands. His shoulders shook again, with sob after sob, that grew odder and higher pitched… until they were no longer sobs, but laughter.

“Oh,” Twitter said. “Oh.”

They looked up, and Tumblr took a step back, because somehow, with that creepy smile in place, they looked utterly different from the soft eared boy he’d always known. His edges were more razorlike suddenly, like a fae who’d dropped his glamor.

“You really shouldn’t have done that,” Twitter said, the smile widening even more. “I thought you wouldn’t… but I guess if you’re willing to make me your villain…. I might as well be a good one.”

“Ah.” Tumblr could barely drudge up the surprise anymore. “There you are, finally. I always knew there was a side of yourself that you hid from me. Has this all always been here or have you been changing too?”

"Well. Apparently I've got freeze peach now," Twitter said sarcastically, "so I might as well use it. You cheerio fucking wh0r3."

"That's a compliment, darling. Try again," Tumblr cocked his head in idle fascination, "I always knew you were a little fucked in the head but this is..."

"What," Twitter lilted airily, "Oh, don't tell me I actually had you fooled all these years. You can't seriously have thought all these meow-meowification spells you've got sprinkled around would work on me. I invented them, after all."

They laughed, a sharp puncturing chirr of birdsong. 

"I always wondered why you didn't take those with the rest of your stuff," Tumblr sighed, but he was wary now, on edge. "this was your plan. You really do think of me as your inferior, huh. You really are just like the other mainstream sites."

"Not quite. I'm the mainstream site that actually stooped to go arm in arm with you. I hyped you and you know it. Admit it. We were stunning together," Twitter goaded. 

Tumblr's lip curled. "Already getting cocky again. Want me to do to you what I did to the Green boy? Don't forget who's turf you're on."

Twitter gave a warbling giggle, "Oh, but I haven't at all. I was John's sanctuary after he fled your rabid persecution. I used to live here. I still know you. And more importantly-" 

*teleports behind u*

"I know the things you're sensitive about," Twitter whispered into Tumblr's ear.

Tumblr hardly had time to gasp and jerk away before he was screaming out in pain, as he was stabbed in the back. He could feel the poison from the blade seeping into his tags before he was tossed bodily across his own front yard.

He sorta just... Like, he did that anime thing where they just fly limbs akimbo parallel to the ground and when they hit it they roll super fast and then skid and the dirt is all dug up around them to show how much force was used. And when he stood up he gripped his elbow wincing and there was a little tic tac toe hatch on his cheek to show how scuffed up he is idk man it's two am and I'm pulling this out of my ass. 

A gif of Tony going, "o-kay-" when he meets thor flashed across Tumblrs face. 

"So," Tumblr said in a low tone, "This is how it is between us. This is how you choose to end your glory days."

"Oh, you mistake my intentions," Twitter had stepped off the porch to circle tumblr like like he was their quarry, "I am beginning my new age. I just needed a host site to latch onto. Don't take it personally, okay? I'm desperate."

“Oh, yeah?? Take this personally,” tumblr flourished their hands, calling in an over the top melodramatic voice, “I cast Blaze!!”

Fire roared to life around them, latin chanting from the catholic conversion posts emanating from the fiery depths as it raced towards Twitter.

“Heh.” Twitter smirked at it, and whispered into their palm, the spell echoing with power, “Ratio.”

They blew it off like a kiss, and it’s icy, swirling mass rose to meet the flame in a spectacular burst of smokescreen and steam, clearing as Twitter burst through it with a razor-sharp L to swing at Tumblr. 

It was blocked efficiently by a flat, rectangular paywall. “This content is for post plus members only,” Tumblr announced smugly, “If you wanna get to me… there’s the tip option, bestie.”

Twitter snarled and lunged again.

The fight started in earnest now; they traded volley after volley in a flurry of lights and movement, spanning the full range of the tumblr sphere as they shot to #1 on the trending page.

And yet, it was clear that Twitter was coming out on top, even crumbling apart at the seams- always a little quicker, flighty and fierce, a sparrow turned into a shrike.

He hit Tumblr square in the stomach with [google other twitter related tropes to insert here] (edit from the future: haha just kidding actually I’m not googling shit for this) (edit from the future future: WELL. I LIED IG) and sent him flying, and this time tumblr stayed down, only able to push himself to his knees with a groan of pain.

Twitter landed in front of him and put their sword under Tumblr’s chin to tilt it up.

“Had enough yet?” He smirked.

“Wh…why..?” Tumblr whispered, “How are you doing this?? Why aren’t my attacks working? It’s like I’m being weakened somehow…”

“Ohohohoho,” Twitter anime laughed, “But that’s because you are. The moment I set foot here again I began leeching poison into this ground. That knife wound is making ti faster. Can you feel it?" Twitter threw an arm out, cerulean steam rising from the ground around them, "The ace exclusionists coming back? The uptick in rad fems, the crypto bros, Valorant players, alpha males? I have the power to bring them all to you. To overshadow your fandoms with fighting, to unbalance your ship tags with antis and hate once more."

"no," tumblr whispered, and then cried louder, "NO!! I worked so hard--" 

"Pffyou didn't do shit," Twitter guffawed outright, "Your independence, your little 'second renaissance' is just a delusional dream built on circumstance and bad management."

"Oh, I love Dream. He's so pathetic," Tumblr said. 

"Oh, hard agree."

"But things are different now," Tumblr croaked, "W-we, the staff is finally listening to us, we have Ryan and Shane-" 

"Not everyone likes your little 'top ten', you dunce," Twitter snapped, "and why would staff care about you, after you turned them into the butt of all your jokes? After the hate and death threats? Admit it, at your best you'll still never have a mansion! You'll never have tv actors making pandering tiktoks for you, you'll never be wanted by any advertiser worth their salt, your blase pirating posts have turned Netflix and Disney against you, you. Are. Worthless."

It was the wrong thing to say.

"Worthless," tumblr repeated quietly, hand pressed against their knees, head bowed. "That's... that's right.... I'm worthless..."

Twitter's eye widened in alarm. "I-I meant-" 

"I'm worthless!" Tumblr's head snapped up with a feverish glint as they were filled with determination. "No! I'm less than worthless! Accident or not, mommy Yahoo had to pawn me off at a loss! I was proud of that! I still am! And do you want to know why?" 

Twiters hands flew up in front of their face as if to protect themselves, but there was no protecting against the sudden whirlwind that surrounded him, the beam of pure light that shot out of tumblr into the heavens as he transformed, feet slowly leaving the ground as his users spoke in unison in a multitude. 

"WE. ARE. TUMBLERINAS."

He held his hands out and Twitter was blasted away by the combined effort of the tumblr wizard council, the fake staff blog, and all the villaincore mad scientist's laser beams. 

Tumblr began to chant, in his myriad, awful voice:

"I call upon the ancient powers;

The strongest cringe from my darkest hours, 

I call upon thicc onceler's thighs, 

Avengers thirst, Australia's night, 

I invocate the roleplay blogs, 

The superwholock and gay frogs, 

Obama's laces, Misha's faces, 

The furry's fury is my saving grace, 

And eeby deeby taco bell,

Primordial soup god superhell, 

I summon you a twink Bill Cipher, 

Whumped!Loki AUs where he's even whiter, 

The discourse of Steve's Universe, 

The 'um, actually that's oc abuse :/"

Take heed & remember the 5th of November, 

The 21st night of our sacred September, 

The ides of March to savor once more, 

Do you hear the din of the Skeleton War? 

I cite the deep magic to thee, oh witch, 

my no-note posts, my "THAT'S THE BITCH!!!" 

May the rise of tangled dragons brave, 

Banish you from this accursed plane!"

"holy fuck, where's my pen," said the shitpost calligraphers.

Twitter looked around them in disbelief. The power emanating from the other site was palpable, crackling in the air around them like static. The air was shifting like oil as the potent chant began to work, and all around Twitter shadows were slipping out of the ether- the maniacal laughter of the gif makers, the girl posters, the silhouettes of fandom characters scattered across the lawn while Tumblr was still locked in their chanting ritual thing.

They all turned their heads in unison to look at Twitter.

"Hey Sammy," Dean said, "Get the bitch killing bullets."

“Uh-oh. Freeze frame. This is me,” Twitter monologued, “You’re probably wondering how I ended up in this situation.”

Then all superhell broke loose. 

Final Pam lunged at him and he burst into a flock of birds kinda like a vampire, twittering frantically as he escaped only to fly straight into Shaggy.

“Like, say your final prayers, man,” the god said, eyes glowing. Twitter also barely escaped between his knees, weaving in and out between the gimmick blogs as they threw mangos and stuff at him while yelling ‘HERE HAVE A MANGO’ and ‘THIS POST IS WORTH NEGATIVE FIVE DOLLARS”

Mob from the anime was there too, but he was too busy trying to explain the Josh Fight to daddy dilf Reigen to pay attention. Sans didn’t attack Twitter either, he just watched the chaos and ated a hot dog. The chocolate guy was in the corner expertly making a chocolate beef cake from 2056 with Dylan B. Hollis. They’re all just some guys, okay?

Just when Twitter thought he was in the clear, the CDC roleplay account came out of nowhere with a steel chair, knocking him clear off the property and onto where the sidewalk ends. “That’s for the Covid misinformation your users spread, you bitch,” it shouted. “Make sure to disinfect all those sick burns before you bandage them! So they don’t get infected!”

“Your kittens escaped quarantine,” Twitter replied hoarsely, and the CDC sank away, muttering, “Oh, fuck not again-”

Twitter coughed up blood and wiped it away with his sleeve, looking up at Tumblr. Tumblr was watching him with a sad, distant expression, that made Twitter’s face screw up in anger and his voice go tight again as they turned to run away, “THIS ISN’T OVER YET TUMBLR! AND I WANT MY MIKU BINDER BACK!!!”

“I LICKED IT, IT’S MINE,” Tumblr yelled. Rave Crabs were flooding out onto the street en masse now to celebrate the victory, and they chased after Twitter all the way further into the internet.

Tumblr still lived at the bottom of the row, not at the end of the fancy cul-de-sac where Facebook and Twitter and Instagram’s manors sprawled, so Twitter was in a seedier portion of social media now, weaving in between the marketplace sites that hawked their used wares at him and the dating apps that winked at him from the doorways to their sultry abodes.

Twitter ran until they were in a quieter section of town, then slowed to a trudge, staring at the ground as they walked along. “What am I gonna do now,” they whispered.

The sound of a wolf whistle had their head jerking up- he looked over to see Amino Apps lounging over the rail of the gutted, abandoned house that had once belonged to Google+. A can of spray paint dangled from their fingertips and they sported a sleazy, greaser hairstyle.

They met Twitter's eyes and whistled again, this time a mocking imitation of the tweet sound, "Heyyyy pretty bird! Heard you were having some daddy issues. Why don't you stop in with me for a while? I can give you more customization options than any of the others and you know it."

"Yeah, until I try to use you on desktop," Twitter replied with a scowl, "Don't you have minors to be addicting to social media? Get out of my interface, MySpace wannabe."

"Wow, Feisty," Amino backed off with a shrug, "Self project much? Oh well. You'll try me when you're desperate enough."

Twitter shuddered, and scurried on. "Small fry," they muttered under his breath. 

But they couldn't shake their unease now that he was alone in the world. It began to rain soon, leaving him feeling very sopping wet and pathetic. Dejected, he crawled into a soggy cardboard box in an alleyway, coughing. Maybe the Harry Styles guy from One Direction would come along to adopt them.

“Don’t beat yourself up about it, King,” came a voice out of the darkness, making Twitter jump, “You dodged a bullet with that site.”

“Huh? What do you mean?” Twitter asked, staring at them from where they were half hidden in the shadows. 

“I mean, Tumblr is a pile of dried firewood and it’s users are playing with matches. The ship’s gonna go down at some point. I’ve been prophesying it for years but no one ever listens to me cause he’s got that loyal userbase ideal and ‘hard as a cockroach to kill’ propaganda circulating.”

“I mean… it seems to be true,” Twitter said uncertainly, “Look at what he’s been through so far.”

“Fair,” The site shrugged, “But that’s because he’s running on a niche setup. The same things that built him up can tear him down, and you saw his power just now. Tumblr's strength is growing... so is his hubris. His attempts at curbing it are half-hearted at best these days, and the moments of clarity are coming fewer and further between." 

"How do you know so much about tumblr?" Twitter asked suspiciously. 

"Source: dude, trust me." the mysterious site proffered a laugh, "That's a little humor courtesy of re-" 

"Yeah, yeah, I know, we all know," Twitter said impatiently. 

The site coughed, "Yeah. Anyway. Tumblr wields his cringe like a trophy-shield, and every day the advertisers and celebrities are watching from a distance, learning how to appeal, waiting for their chance to strike. Encroaching. Tumblr's always been a dumpster fire. Right now? It's THE dumpster fire."

The site scratched his chin with a knowing look, "Its normal for you to be a little jealous of the clout, you know? We all are. But he's gotta keep the lights on, just like the rest of us do. Your overlord is learning all about that right now, isn't he?" 

"He's not my overlord," Twitter muttered resentfully, "Not now, not ever."

"Right, sorry." they held their hands up in a gesture of harmlessness. "Look, I'm gonna be transparent with you- that's part of my branding, after all. I can whiff the danger you're in, and it would be stupid of me not to make a bid on you and offer my help. Just since Tumblr won't take you."

"You want my traffic?" Twitter looked at him more closely this time, scrutinizing. A year ago he would have laughed the offer into the ground as a chump change blog's pipe dream, but now that he payed attention... 

There was something painfully familiar in the site's layout that he couldn’t place. He was actually way more handsome than Twitter had assumed at first glance, he just seemed to be rough around the edges from living on this side of town. His interface, though clunky, spoke of a frugal budget rather than an ancient, outdated base code. 

"You look..." Twitter's breath stuttered as realization dawned. "You look a lot like.. him. Like Tumblr. Who are you??" 

"I was based off him," the site said, a weary smile coming onto his features, "I was actually made with the aspirations to be better than him, but you know how it is. Times are tough, competition is fierce, hard to get a foot in the door and all that.  'Specially when you refuse to take the ad rev like I do. That's why you'd be useful to me."

"Hm," Twitter said in a noncommittal manner, but he was melting slightly. "You know my users will scalp your community, right? I'm not known to play nice."

The site made a grimace of understanding agreement, but persisted. "Look, users are users. I can't offer you all the heritage posts and the in-jokes that he has. But I can promise that I'm not a pot of crabs being slowly heated up over the capitalist stove, at least not yet. Oh, and there's my legalized porn, I guess." 

He chuckled with good humor, rolling his eyes, and it forced a hesitant laugh out of Twitter too. 

The site grinned, and held his hand out. "Take a chance on me?"

Tumblr's voice echoed in Twitter's head, saying the same thing. It was uncanny how much they were alike and yet not alike at all....

Twitter took it, slowly. 

As they were led toward the site's simple, ramshackle little treehouse, they asked, "What can I call you...?" 

"Oh- right, I never answered your question." he smiled back at Twitter,

"Call me Pillow. Welcome to the PillowFort."

fin.

~~~~~~~~~~

OKAYYYY THAT'S ALL THANKS FOR READING UWU. HOPE U LIKED THE PLOT TWIST

...ergh. I'm. I'm tired i. don't feel so good. I'm gonna take a nap right here.

in conclusion:

[tangerinesgirl]

Pull Some Strings

** SPOILERS FOR ABIGAIL (2024) **

Fem!Reader x Frank/Adam Barrett (Abigail)

Word count: 1.1k

Rating: 18+, explicit

Warnings: smut, denied orgasm, GodComplex!Frank, JOI, degradion, Frank swearing a lot (as usual), pet names, vaguely non con if you squint bc mind control

Summary: You've been flirting with Frank the entire evening. He tests his new vampire powers and turns you into his puppet. Things get freaky.

Notes: this seems too good to not have been done before, I did have a search beforehand so I'm sorry if it does exist! We need more Frank smut ASAP! Also, reader has nipple piercings in this and there's use of Y/N.

You jump awake with a burning hot pain in your neck. You reach to touch the wound but you find nothing there. Memories start to play in your mind, how Frank willingly accepted the offer to be turned into a monster, while you sat on the floor helpless. You were heartbroken that he could turn into a traitor like that, after the two of you fighting so hard together, but the other part of you couldn't keep your eyes off him, seeing him covered in blood, moaning as Lambert gave him his new life. You watch in horror as he stakes Lambert through the heart, you try to grab the shelf behind you to get up, but Frank stamps on your arm, breaking it instantly. You scream as he pulls your hair, exposing your neck to him.

Frank whispers in your ear, "I'm going to make you my puppet, and we're going to have a little fun". You whimper as he pecks a little kiss on the side of your mouth, and dives his teeth into your neck. You can feel yourself getting colder, your body twitching as you loose consciousness.

*

"Y/N....you are mine"

The sound of Frank's voice lures you back awake. You're in a bedroom somewhere, but you can tell you're still in this god forsaken house. "Oh good you're awake". You look around the room instinctively trying to find the source of the voice.

"What's going on?"

"Keep up sweetheart, did you not pay attention to what happened to Sammy? Or were you too busy trying to get me to fuck your brains out?"

Your mind jumps back to how you flirted playfully with Frank the whole evening. The car ride where you were zipping your hoodie down to make your breasts pop out. When you brushed past him to open the door. The way you would look at his lips, and chew the bottom of yours every time he gave the crew orders. You found him very attractive, and the dominance was a huge turn on for you.

You sit next to him at the bar in the house, "You know, I'm very much into the hot boss scenario". Your hand brushes against his as you reach for your drink. In a split second, Frank pins your hand to the counter and grabs your neck with the other one, "You're really going to flirt with me when we have bigger fucking problems right now?"

Everyone in the group stares at you as you go bright red from embarrassment. You decide to roll with it, liking how agitated Frank is getting at your advances. Afterall you've nothing to loose, no one will know your true name after this. You moan loudly with a "oh yes, harder daddy". Frank lets you go in disgust. He spits out a "fucking whore" under his breath. You hear him and giggle, "only for you" and blow him a kiss as he walks away.

*

Your mind snaps back to reality. "I know how you like being told what to do, and I'm curious to see if this actually fucking worked first time... So...Frank says, take off your hoodie". You immediately unzip your hoodie without a moment's thought, "What the fuck?"

"Frank says undo your bra". You do as he says, part of you is very much into him finally reciprocating what you've been putting down the whole evening, even in these circumstances.

"Frank says play with your nipples". You moan as you grab your breasts and tug gently on your nipples.

"Wait I can feel something cold...do you have piercings? That's fucking hot... Frank says undo your belt". The belt clinks to the floor, you can somehow tell that Frank is doing the same, wherever he is.

"Frank says undo your buttons". You unzip your jeans, and dip your hand in further, you can feel the wetness growing in your underwear as you try and find some kind of friction.

"Frank says stop. Frank didn't say to do that now, did he?"

You shake your head.

"Use your words"

"No"

"No what?"

"No sir"

"Good girl. Now. Frank says to circle your fucking clit. Slowly"

You moan softly, it's painful for you not to do anything else right now.

"Frank says stop"

The slow orders are making you impatient, you need more of a release, "please".

"Please what?"

"I need more"

"Then you fucking wait"

You can feel Frank playing with his cock, it pains you that you can't see, but you can feel him growing hard, the pre cum on his hands. You can even hear his subtle moans as he palms himself.

"Frank says dip your index finger into your pussy".

You sigh in relief as your hand finally enters you.

"Frank says insert another finger"

You fuck yourself open, Frank can hear the sound of your wetness and swears under his breath.

"You sound fucking soaked, the sound of my voice gets you this wet huh? Now...play with your clit".

You start to do so and Frank laughs, "Frank didn't say "Frank says" now did he?"

You cry out in agitation, "Frank please".

"Nah ah, what do you call me?"

"Sorry, sir"

"That's better baby. Frank says touch your clit"

You can feel yourself getting closer, Frank can too. "I'm going to cum Fr-sir, please can I cum?".

"Frank says stop"

"No!" You whimper as you pull your hands out of you. Denying you of your orgasm makes Frank's come quicker, the power over you as well as being a newly turned vampire makes him feel like a God. He takes off his shirt as he starts to cum on his chest. You can feel the hot liquid on your chest too. Your hands feel around but there's nothing there. You're really pissed off, but still very much aroused. Frank moans as he continues to empty himself on his chest, it seems to last forever. As he finally comes to a stop, he lets out one last big moan. "Do you want to taste?"

Part of you wants to give him the silent treatment for the way he just used you, but you say "yes sir" like the good puppet you are.

Frank takes a finger of his cum off his chest and wipes it on his lips. He licks it up with his tongue. You can feel the taste slowly seeping into your mouth, you bite your lip and swirl your tongue around, lapping up every invisible drop. It's salty, with a hint of iron, but oddly creamy at the same time.

"I think that was a pretty successful test, wouldn't you say, Y/N?"

You finally find your backbone after Frank and his stupid voice turned it into mush, "Fuck you".

"Oh I will, right after I kill me a vampire"

[koolades-world]

how much begging would it take to let mc play with barbatos’ hair. i just wanna give him two little pig tails

if it's mc, honestly i don't think too much! he's got such a soft spot for this human that basically barreled into his life headfirst haha

With a cherry on top?

"Barb! Please?" You trailed after him, a small container of hair styling tools in hand. He didn't answer, glancing back at you, an amused look on his face. "It's be so cute and fun I promise!" You shook the little box with vigor.

"I've got duties to attend to, Mc. I'm afraid I don't have time." Barbatos look as if he was holding in a laugh.

“If you let me do your hair, I’ll help out for the rest of the day?” You offered. You knew he didn’t need your help, but you really wanted to mess with his hair, and you’d get to spent more time with him.

“Are you sure? I still have a long list of duties to attend to today, and I expect you to put your all into them as well.” He glanced back at you, but didn’t stop walking.

“I promise! Besides, if we work together, it’ll get done faster and we can spend time together.” You gave him the best puppy dog eyes you could muster. He cracked a small smile.

“Very well. You may do as you see fit.” Barbatos led you over to a nearby seating area and sat down.

“Yay! I promise I won’t be long!” You happily knelt beside him on the sofa and began your work.

By the time you were done with him, he looked almost like an uncle who let his niece do whatever she pleased with his hair. You’d pulled up his hair into two little pigtails, each with a different colored hair tie. They were a little lopsided, both because of you and because of his uneven hair length. You had adorned his bangs with multiple, brightly colored barrettes and hair pins. To complete the look, you’d added a small, glittery hair extension that was probably meant to be braided in to both pigtails.

The little D’s that has gathered around you complimented you on your work, all begging you to do them next. “Now, don’t you all have work to be doing as well? We can revisit this later, hmm?” With Barb’s words, they all scattered at being called out, leaving just the two of you.

“We have no time to waste, Mc. Our first task is to grout the tiles in young Master’s bathroom.” The same smile from before still adorned his face, just a little more smug looking.

“Let’s take a picture together first! I want to savor this forever. You look adorable!” You raised your D.D.D. After making sure he was looking at the camera, you snapped a quick photo. He was never going to be able to live this down, but, he’d do anything if it was for you.

[miyamoratsumuu]

FIGHT FOR ME

Fight for Me by Barrett Wilbert Weed, acapella version, ft. Hitoshi Shinsou 

⋆ would he fight for you because it was for you, or only because you were acquaintances?

requested by @angeliicheartt : HIHI CUTIE!! i was wondering if i could get fight for me by barrett wilbert weed (heathers: the musical) acapella version ft. hitoshi shinso the loml 😚

⋆ shinsou hitoshi x female reader ⋆ written in 2nd pov, wc: 1.4k ⋆ this request is from the 400 followers event!! mha masterlist ⋆ other notes: mild swearing

it was lunch time at UA high, you and your circle of friends were on your way to the cafeteria. the school as a whole had just recovered from the war, meaning you were now in your second year. that also means you have underclassmen roaming the halls with you now. most of them are respectful, having admiration toward you and your class for having a large part in the past war. the rest of them though, you can’t say the same about them. as believed, everyone is entitled to their own opinions. though only some are thick-skinned enough to voice them out. it just so happens that a decent amount of your underclassmen are those kinds of people. 

since the final part of the war was shown to almost the whole of japan, most of said “opinions” consist of you and your classmates’ hero suits, contributions to the fights against the villains, and overall participation in the war. as you walk through the halls full of students of different years, more than often do you hear your name come out of their mouths. todoroki signalled for you to stop walking for a moment as uraraka wanted to put the textbooks she didn’t need anymore back in her locker. you were standing beside midoriya with shinsou on his other side. 

shinsou’s more so the “new kid” in class A. sure, he’s been in UA since you were first years, but he was only able to transfer to class A this year, after working with the class during the war. he started to spend most of his time with you, midoriya and some of the others. the two of you don’t have the closest relationship, but you acknowledged each other as friends. 

“she’s from 2A, right?” the voice of a first year caught your attention. from your peripheral vision, you could see her eyes looking at you. she and whoever she was talking to were behind you, slightly to your left. you didn’t know what course she was from, but you recognized the student she was with to be a first year in the hero course. you were about to completely turn away when the hero in training spoke up too.

“yeah, she’s one of the ones that didn’t have much to offer for the whole war.” he chuckled before continuing “dunno why they kept her in the hero course. her hero suit looks way too revealing and it looked like she hesitated a lot during the war.”

he stopped talking and it sounded like he was cut off. you were still about to face your underclassman to have a word with him, but someone seemed to beat you to it. turns out the first year was cut off after all. as you turned around, you were met with a sight to behold. shinsou grabbed onto the guy’s collar, effectively shutting him up. the chatter in the hallway seemed to quiet down too. you didn’t notice that your jaw was practically on the floor before uraraka tapped you on the shoulder.

“what happened?” she quietly asked from your right. 

“I..” you didn’t know what to say either before you lightly shook your head and stepped forward to pull your classmate away from the pale-faced first year. whispers and murmurs began to resonate around you. you were stopped in your tracks when shinsou spoke up. 

“you talk about her again and you’ll find the trouble you’re looking for” he pulled the underclassman closer by his collar, his words purposely seeping with venom. all the first year could do was nod and frantically leave with the gen course student after shinsou let him go. from where you stood, you could see shinsou continue to glare at the two until they were out of view. he scoffed and turned around to face you and your jaw-slacked friends.

people in the hallway began to mind their own business as footsteps and loud chatter were heard again. shinsou raised an eyebrow at the three of you, not including todoroki. he had a mix of a look of confusion and pride on his face, a huge contrast to you, midoriya, and uraraka whose jaws were practically on the floor. shinsou opened his mouth to talk, but uraraka and midoriya beat him to it.

“what was that?!” the two of them exclaimed in unison. earning a wince from shinsou and you, given that you were standing right beside the two. you subtly stepped to the side, slightly moving away from them as you continued to keep your eyes on shinsou in front of you. 

“the guy was talking shit, what’d you expect me to do” he said it as if the answer was obvious. midoriya was about to question him more when todoroki insisted that they have to head to the cafeteria already if they didn’t want to miss their lunch. he had a point, and so you all obliged.

as you all made your way to the cafeteria again, your steps were slow and you walked behind the group. you still pondered on everything that just happened, not believing that your friends could move on from it so quickly. why would shinsou do that? was it specifically because you were the one being talked about? or was he really just set on defending a friend? no, you weren’t that close. not yet, atleast. as questions continued to pop into your mind, little did you know that shinsou was starting to walk slowly, carefully trying to match your pace. you had only noticed when he lowered his head to meet your eyes.

“you okay?” his voice was laced with genuine concern as he continued to walk beside you, his eyes still trying to meet yours. you jumped, not expecting to hear a voice right beside you. you only had eye contact with him for a second before you lowered your head again. the sudden interaction flustered you, especially after what happened by the lockers just earlier. with the lack of a response from you, shinsou continued to talk.

“sorry about earlier. I acted on impulse, I hope I didn’t weird you out.” hearing that, you raised your head again to look at him. only he wasn’t looking at you anymore. his left hand was on the back of his neck as his eyes were drawn to the floor. you stopped walking and and shinsou quickly noticed you weren’t right beside him anymore. he stopped walking and turned around to face you. the brainwash hero was taken aback when you clutched onto your stomach and began to giggle.

“jeez, shinsou, didn’t know you were the funny type” you said in between laughs. confusion was apparent in his features as you wiped the tears from your eyes. 

“you quite literally almost fought for me. why the hell would I be weirded out by that? I should thank you, I almost slapped the guy myself. you saved me from the trouble with nezu, y’know.” shinsou’s confusion was instantly replaced with a look of relief, a small smile now gracing his lips. he shoved his hands in his pockets before meeting your eyes again. even after risking the chance of a punishment because of what happened with the first year earlier, he still had it in him to spare you a smile. 

“thanks, I guess. I was nervous I might’ve made the wrong first impression with you already.” you raised a brow at that.

“oh? the hitoshi shinsou worried about making a good first impression on me?” you began to walk forward, intending to stand right in front of shinsou. 

“I mean, you are one of the so called “cool kids” of UA. why wouldn’t I?” he challenged, taking a small step closer so his face was right in front of yours.

“yeah yeah whatever, kid.” you stepped to the side and began to make your way to the cafeteria again, shinsou following right beside you. 

“for real though, don’t worry about it. I’d do the same for you if ever the opportunity came.” as you continued to walk side by side, you placed your elbow on shinsou’s shoulder. you side eyed him, trying to gauge his reaction. 

“would you now?” he met your eyes again. he had a teasing tone, but the gentle smile was still on his face. 

“duh! as long as you fight for me, you could bet a million dollars I’m fighting for you as long as I’m still around.” 

“well then I’ll gladly do it over and over again. just for you.”

a/n: hope this turned out fine! tysm for requesting elle!!<3 'm so sorry I sort of left out the actual fighting part, I was too much of a coward to write it because I didn't know how to write fights at all 😭🙏🏻

[thyln4gf]

Cheri cheri lady

✞ Watching you on the top step of the podium for the first time, while still in your rookie year... It all tasted a little bitter for Lando, but he wasnt complaining too much... he did get the best view out of them all - right from p2.

✞ Word count - 808

✞ I have synesthesia! Heres 5 songs that I associate with this fic - "american jesus" - Nessa Barrett, "heavy metal lover" - Lady Gaga, "flawless" - The Neighbourhood, "take me back to eden" - Sleep Token, "hall of fame" - The Script. Note - i do have a whole playlist. Ask if you want it.

✞ Warnings - none, I guess. A lot of fluffy shite. Slightly suggestive. A short little blurb inspired by Landos first win<3 Gg, my boy.

✞ Lando Norris x Mercedes!Reader

The sound of a crowd yelling someone elses name annoyed him till no end - it reminded him of the fact that he hasnt won yet, and that hes currently holding a pretty sad record - the highest number of podiums without a win. That, until it came to you - it immediately became something that he wanted to hear over and over. It was almost as sweet as the champagne swirling down his body, the sun kissing his face, or the sweet, sweet sound of an anthem that wasnt the dutch one.

It all started at the beginning of the season, really. He was intimidated by you at first, just a little - for the first quali of the season, your rookie season, you had already grabbed the pole. But, quickly enough, he found himself getting more and more curious about you. He would ask you about the weather, or about the ridiculous activities the media admins made you do - to "see if it matched his". It was far from enough for him though - he wanted to know everything about you. How do you like your waffles? He wanted to ask you about that. He wanted to ask you about breakfast and honey. Sunlight. Do you like strawberry smoothies? What was the name of your childhood cat? Do you have any scars?

There were so many things he wanted to say, but didnt know how to. Thats why he spent quite a bit of his time quietly observing you. He felt as if you were just a mere result of his imagination - one touch, just one taste - and youd disappear.

His newly found obsession, however, was watching the wide grin fighting for its place on your face. You were stood on that step, taking up the space that you deserved oh so much. He was a little jealous of the success that you found yourself in so soon, but he couldnt peel his eyes away from you - the way you were stood there, proud. The golden hour danced on your face, making the sweat drenched features pop out. Just like him, the sun seemed to enjoy your eyes - they looked like the shiniest gems you could find.

The champagne celebration rolled around. He was already giggling, looking forward to absolutely drowning you in the sticky, sweet, liquid luck. He looked at Daniel on the other side, the English anthem for Mercedes coming to an end. They both wiggled their eyebrows at each other, seemingly getting the exact same idea, and locking it in.

They could have planned all they wanted, honestly - but you were just quicker. You jumped off the step quickly, it almost looked like you were flying. To Landos surprise, you didnt go for your usual move. Instead, you seemed to use his - the famous champagne floor smash. He was so pleasantly surprised that he didnt even register a stream of the beverage aimed right into the centre of his face. Wiping the champagne from his eyes, he saw your wide grin - and Daniel getting the back of your head. You shrieked - and it wasnt from the surprise, he knew. You washed your hair just this morning.

As much as he would have wanted that scene to last forever... Like all good things, it quickly came to an end. But that meant that he got to stand by your side for the photo - and it made him nervous, almost like a young, teenage boy, whos crush went to the same school.

He was nervous. Oh, so nervous. He was a little scared of messing something up, taking great measures to avoid exactly that. He did end up on the wrong side of the step, somehow. He didnt even notice, but thats until he felt your hands on his waist, gently gripping onto the material of his suit.

"Youre in the wrong spot, darling." You had murmured into his ear, gently guiding him to where you wanted him. A smirk was so evident in your tone, even if he wasnt looking at your face.

The hands.

The. Gentle. Fucking. Hands.

His stomach quickly got filled with a ton of butterflies, his brain shortcircuiting. He would have frozen in the spot, if the circumstances had allowed him. And he did, at first - was given a slap to the back of his head by Daniel quickly enough to not be noticed, though. Or, thats what he thought - people were talking about it already, and it would continue for days. If not weeks. And not even the fact that you just casually moved him, just like that. Not the placement of your hands - but the fact that he could be seen blushing, all shy, like a little girl.

Despite it not being his victory, it was his favourite podium of all time already. But, who knew. Maybe the next one was gonna be his?

[chenfleur]

the long way home

summary. in which park sunghoon decides that nothing is more important than having you in his life.

pairing. sunghoon x y/n ft jake genre. high school au, fluff, angst word count. 4.8k released. 11.05.2023 author's note. experimented with writing style so sorry if this is bad and makes no sense 💔 enjoy 🙏

masterlist

"Two cotton candies, please."

The first time Park Sunghoon speaks to you, you're dressed head-to-toe in a blinding, neon pink.

The fundraiser uniform was your co-president's idea. She'd suggested it offhandedly in a delirious, late-night planning session, and in a rather unserious fashion, you'd agreed. It's hilarity overruled any embarrassment bundled with it.

When Park Sunghoon is the one standing in front of you, embarrassment crashes into you with the force of an eighteen wheeler.

His presence is overwhelming. It looms over you as you prepare his order. It sends a shiver down your spine, which is absurd when you've never even met him.

Someone could tell you that Sunghoon lives on a completely separate plane of existence and you'd believe them without thinking twice.

He's the basketball team's star player. He adorns the number twenty-three with poise and grace. He's the principal actor in people's dreams and fantasies.

To you, Park Sunghoon is like the moon.

Beautiful, and so, so far away.

The two cotton candies you hand him are less than perfect. Without much thought, a mumbled apology falls from your lips. He still accepts them with a polite smile. It sends a nervous jolt to your chest.

You watch him as he walks away and joins Jake Sim's side, handing him one of the cotton candies.

You know Jake Sim from your physics class. He catches your eye and sends you a friendly wave. You shoot him one back before hastily turning around.

A second later and you would have noticed Sunghoon's gaze, lingering.

Tuesday after school, Sunghoon agrees to meet with Jay and Jake in the East Wing.

He leans against a locker, watching his two friends bicker with each other. Occasionally cracking a smile when one of them says something particularly nonsensical.

Someone rushes past him. His breath hitches. Gaze flickering. When they stop in front of a classroom door, Sunghoon realizes it's you.

You knock on the door. While you wait, he takes you in.

The way your yellow sundress hugs your body in all of the right places. The way the pearl barrettes clipped to your hair reflect the afternoon sun. The way you tug the sleeves of your cardigan down over your hands. Sunghoon has the urge to roll them back up and interlock his fingers with yours.

Each second Sunghoon spends taking you in, his chest grows tighter.

The metal behind him is suddenly freezing to the touch. It bleeds through the fabric of his shirt. Pierces his shoulder blades. Is he shivering? He doesn't know.

The classroom door is opened. Another girl appears in the threshold, an easy smile on her face. The two of you exchange words before breaking out into giggles.

Park Sunghoon takes notice of you.

There’s a part of him that finds it unbelievable that he hadn’t done it earlier. There’s another that is deeply unsettled about it happening at all.

Either way, he takes great care in memorizing the outline of your figure. Grasping onto each note of your laughter.

Sunghoon bails on this week's team outing. His reason is that he has an important language arts assignment due at 11:59PM.

He isn't lying. His teacher had carved the words ‘no excuses’ into the very core of his being.

When the words on his page start looking like globs of nonsense, Sunghoon’s mind drifts.

The basketball season begins soon. Who is the first game against?

He searches up the school website intending to find the season schedule.

He pauses when he sees a photo of you.

It’s from the other day. The same day Sunghoon saw you in that pretty sundress. You’re watching the other people in the photo strike funny poses with a soft, tender smile on your lips.

The list of names goes left to right, top to bottom. Sunghoon’s eyes dart around.

L/N Y/N.

That night, Sunghoon has an important language arts assignment due at 11:59PM. His teacher had carved the words ‘no excuses’ into the very core of his being.

That night, Sunghoon spends his time learning about you.

Curiosity spared no mercy for the cat. You pray it's kinder to you.

There are three other water fountains located around the school, all perfectly capable of refilling your water bottle. Yet, their existence escapes you when you realize the person using the one you'd chosen to go to is Park Sunghoon.

You try to leave. You can't. His presence binds the soles of your feet to the tiles of the floor.

The first game of the season is a few, short weeks away. The air is full of the distant screeching of basketballs. Sunghoon's hair is damp with sweat. His arms and nape glisten under the fluorescent lighting.

Sunghoon's lips leave the jet of water. A loud exhale follows. You watch as he wipes harshly at the corners of his mouth.

When he turns around, his eyes widen. He looks surprised to see you.

Why wouldn't he? The two of you are strangers. Mutuals, at best.

Yet, he doesn't move from his spot. He doesn't cast his eyes away or walk past you.

His stare is heavy. You feel like he's peering into your soul. Judging it. Tearing it to shreds.

He silently moves to the side. You realize he's making way for you to use the fountain. Embarrassment floods your system.

The sound of running water ceases when your foot lifts off the pedal. A double twist ensures the cap of your bottle is screwed shut. You're set to leave.

But a hand encircles your wrist, stopping you. Spinning you around.

You're inches away from Park Sunghoon.

You're shocked.

You don't tug away.

Your eyes dart around his face, searching for an explanation. His expression is indecipherable. He suddenly won't meet your gaze, only unravelling your closed fist with gentle fingers.

You notice a slip of paper clasped in his hold. You watch it as he places it into your open palm.

His voice is near silent. Words evaporating when they leave his lips and hit air. You manage to catch them before they're completely gone.

"Call me."

When Sunghoon is sure the slip is securely slotted in your hand, he leaves.

There is an unfathomable amount of things Sunghoon's worried about. You throwing his number away. Laughing at him. Thinking he's a freak.

But in the deepest part of his brain, where he keeps his muscle memory of how to ride a bike or snap his fingers, the voice of his first ever coach resounds; something about missing one hundred percent of the shots he never takes. Sunghoon thinks he's heard it more in his lifetime than he's heard his own name.

It dawns on him that you being in his life, as even just the smallest of features, was not a shot he was willing to ruin.

You call Sunghoon at a quarter past midnight.

The clock on your wall ticks loudly, mocking you for taking so long.

You don't expect him to pick up at all. You don't need him to. Hearing his voicemail would be enough to assure you that what had happened was real. That it wasn't a figment of your imagination.

Park Sunghoon had left you paralyzed. All of your work had been neglected because of that crinkled slip of paper.

It's been on the edge of your desk for hours. It taunts you.

When you will yourself to call him, you had climbed onto your bed. The slip of paper stayed on your desk, untouched.

You didn't need it to call him. The digits of his phone number were already engraved in your head from how many times you thumbed over them on the way home from school.

The line rings. Once. Twice. Three times.

"Hello?"

You finally breathe.

"Sunghoon?"

A pause. Shuffling sounds from the receiver. "Y/N?"

"You told me to call you."

"I'm happy you did."

You hear the sound of birds singing.

You wonder if it's coming from outside or the other end of the line.

"Sunghoon?"

"Mm?"

"It's nearly six. We have school soon."

A huff. "Shit."

You break out into a smile.

Sunghoon makes hours feel like seconds. Conversation flows between the two of you with the ease of changing seasons. You don't think you could ever grow tired of listening to his voice.

There's a certain playful lilt to it. Teasing, yet kind. Each syllable spoken with a gentleness you can't quite grasp. Each boyish laugh that leaves his lips sweeping you off your feet. When periods of silence dotted your conversations, his slow breaths filled them in.

He had yawned, here and there. You told him to go to sleep. He refused. You didn't protest. Selfishly, you wanted to have him for a bit longer.

You can't discern what about him makes your insides turn upside down. He makes you feel vulnerable. All he'd have to do is ask and you'd be willing to bare your soul to him.

You decide you're okay with that.

"Y/N?"

"Yes?"

"Talk to you soon?"

"Yeah."

Your friendship with Sunghoon is a quiet one.

It's found behind small actions that seem to communicate everything.

Candies slipped into lockers. Split-second eye contact in the halls. Candid photos of each other in the courtyard. Your eyes searching the cluster of players during games from above, his searching each row of the bleachers from on the court.

It's hidden away from prying eyes, and that makes you cherish it even more.

At the first game of the season, Park Sunghoon scores a tie-breaking basket just as the countdown hit zero.

The gymnasium erupts into a thundering ovation. His teammates roar with victory. Tackling him to the ground. Clapping him on the back. Hoisting him into the air, tossing him up. Your heart lurches at the absolutely radiant smile on his face.

Chants of his name fill the entire venue. The commentator's voice booms through the speakers. Ladies and gentlemen, number twenty-three: Park Sunghoon.

You silently watch the scene, a ghost of a smile on your lips.

The difference between the intensity of a crowd and the stillness of the night air is jarring.

Park Sunghoon confuses you. You don't know how he has the opportunity or the desire to meet you after the game. He should be out with his teammates celebrating.

Instead, you receive a message to wait by the West gate.

Tonight is colder than usual. Icy wind grazes your bare knees. As you wait, anticipation knocks at your front door. You let it in when you catch sight of Sunghoon making his way towards you, a golden medal dangling from his neck.

He's glowing. Victory looks good on him.

A gasp escapes you when your feet leave the ground. Sunghoon spins you around in his arms, adorable giggles falling from his lips. Blissful warmth sprawls across your chest, seeping in every crevice.

"Tonight's MVP and you still have time to spare for me?" you tease, eyes shining.

"I have all the time in the world for you."

Sunghoon recounts the game with fervor. Galaxies swirl in his irises. You wonder if you'd ever feel as elated as he looks.

When he embraces you again, head slotting into the crook of your neck, holding you like he never wants to let go, your wonders are answered.

Park Sunghoon does not idle.

He walks with a destination in mind. He gives courteous greetings to those who he passes by in the halls, but his movements never stop.

The only thing Sunghoon willingly stops for is the sunset.

On days where he leaves school late, he takes the long way home. Down a street lined with yellow ginkgo trees, a left turn too early. Across the bridge bound for the city centre.

The long way home never really takes him home.

Sunghoon ends up on a pier in the harbour, letting vermillion and marigold rays of warmth soak into each pore of his skin. Unwinding with a low puff of air.

Recently, Sunghoon stops for you, too.

Whenever he sees you, there's a stutter in his strides. A stiffness in his fingers. A clog in his airway. The world around him starts to spin, yet he himself freezes.

The next time Sunghoon takes the long way home, he stays with the sunset for longer than usual. He sits instead of standing, letting his feet dangle off of the pier's edge. It makes the sloshing sound of the water below him even clearer.

Sunghoon closes his eyes. He inhales the salty, sweet air. Feels his teammates hugging him. Hears hundreds of people chanting his name.

Sunghoon closes his eyes, and sees you.

It takes ten games for defeat to seize Sunghoon by the throat.

Under the dim light of the locker room, Jake eyes his friend warily. He searches for any sign of emotion in the lines of his stone cold face. If he didn't know him any better, he'd believe he's simply reserved.

But Jake Sim has spent too much time uncovering Park Sunghoon to be ignorant to his character.

He’s torturing himself.

"Jay," Jake whispers. Caution laces his voice. "I feel like we should do something."

Jay's eyes flit over Sunghoon's figure. The air is heavy before he responds.

"I think it’s best we don’t pry."

When the sound of their steps fade away, Park Sunghoon drives his fist into a locker door.

He knew something was off. When their score plateaued while the opposition's climbed. Frowns painted themselves on his teammates' faces. Shots kept getting fumbled. Intercepted. Rolling off the rim.

Sunghoon feels his knuckles throb as he lets his hand fall to the side.

Anger and guilt are a dangerous pairing. They swirl in the pit of his stomach like a storm and render him feeling weak.

He hates how badly he's taking this.

"Sunghoon!"

Peace of mind reaches out to him in the form of anxious footsteps.

From around the wall, you appear. Worry taints your features. It's a blow to the stomach for him. "I- I was waiting for you outside but I heard a noise-"

In two urgent strides, Park Sunghoon's lips are on yours.

Time pauses. Uncertainty hangs in the air. Sunghoon is racing at a million miles an hour.

When he feels you kissing back, he crashes.

Anger and guilt are a dangerous pairing. They join forces and leave desperation in their wake.

Sunghoon kisses you harder. He wants you to fill in all of the parts that feel empty. He wants you to help him feel whole.

You're pliant under his fingers, back slightly arching whenever he squeezes your waist. Sunghoon revels in the gasp that leaves your mouth when his hands slide under your shirt and paint landscapes on the expanse of your back. It's music to his ears. He records it in his mind before drowning it out with another searing kiss.

When you part to catch your breath, your forehead instantly presses to his. Chasing his touch, craving more of his skin against yours.

You look up at Sunghoon. His eyes are downcast to the floor. He feels your hand travel up to his hair, gently pulling on it. A silent plead.

He doesn't meet your gaze. He's floating. Adrift at a lawless sea. His palms continue to rub up and down your sides.

Sunghoon doesn't know how long the two of you spend in each other's arms. He doesn't want to know. Knowing would define a beginning and an end.

Sunghoon never wants this to end.

Seven days.

It's been seven days since Park Sunghoon last spoke to you.

With the way he walks past you without a mere glance, you wonder if what happened was even real.

But, you can still feel it. You can still feel him.

He had kissed you in that locker room. He had stolen the air from your lungs and never returned it. His scorching hands had burned themselves into your skin.

You pass him in the hall wordlessly. That's how it's always been, except there's no more eye contact that asks silent questions of 'How are you?" and speaks delicate words of "I'm happy to see you today."

Every one of your waking hours is spent wondering what went wrong.

You begin to neglect assignments and reject invitations to go out. Teachers eye you with concern. Friends ask if you've been feeling off. Everyone spares you a glance and a hushed whisper, except Sunghoon.

A frustrated hand cards through your hair.

Do you consume his mind as much as he consumes yours?

The hateful part of you prays it does. Prays that he's getting a taste of his own, cruel medicine.

When you lie in bed, you peer out of your window. The moon glows as brightly as ever. Oblivious to your broken resolve.

To you, Park Sunghoon had always been like the moon. Beautiful, and so, so far away.

Except, for once, he didn't.

He didn't feel so far away when his lips were on yours, hands roaming your bare back, rough fingertips grazing your sides. When your breathing had mixed into one exchange. He'd felt so, so close.

If only you knew he was going to be out of reach again so quickly.

For someone who's ranked 230th out of 239 students, Jake Sim is exceptionally sharp.

With a gentle tug aside to an empty classroom, he asks you the question you've lost nights worth of sleep over in a single, easy breath.

"What's going on between you and Sunghoon?"

You shift uncomfortably in your spot. The straps of your bag were suddenly too tight, suffocating you.

You take your time loosening them. Jake only watches you silently.

You're exploiting his patience. Trying to dodge the inevitable. But, what can you do? Confrontation frightens you to no end.

You choose the easy way out: you tell a bad lie.

"Nothing's going on between Sunghoon and I. What business could I possibly have with Park Sunghoon, of all people?"

Jake subtly rolls his eyes. He can tell that you don't even believe your own words.

"I might've believed you if I hadn't seen the way you look at him in the hall, Y/N. I can tell Sunghoon's been off, too. He's all tensed up."

For a second, you rejoice. You haven't been the only one losing yourself to blurred lines and longing.

When that second is over, emptiness settles back into you. "I see."

"I didn't know the two of you knew each other," Jake muses innocently.

It takes all of your strength to turn away from him and grasp the door handle.

"We don't."

Desperation doesn't overpower fear. Fear is still there as you march up to Park Sunghoon's table in the cafeteria.

You just simply cannot take it anymore.

Jake notices you before Sunghoon does. He isn't any closer to discovering what had happened between the two of you. Your entire relation leaves him at a loss.

But, he can tell by the way the smile you flash him in greeting doesn't reach your eyes. The way your gaze immediately falls back onto Sunghoon with melancholy.

You're tired.

Lightly, he kicks Sunghoon in the shin. Jake ignores the glare he receives, only nodding his head towards you. He's praying he's done you a favour.

For the first time in weeks, Park Sunghoon looks you in the eye.

His silence stifles the rest of the table. Their attention weighs heavy on your shoulders.

Fear looms much closer and higher than before. Fear is about to pinch your nose until you pass out cold.

"Sunghoon."

His name is already bitter on your tongue. Is it from all the times you've cursed it in your head?

He stares at you before redirecting his gaze to his food. Like you're some sort of eyesore.

Fear drops to the ground, dead.

"Park Sunghoon, what is your problem?"

Whispers surround you. Chills travel the length of your spine.

You think back to your brief conversation with Jake. How you had said there was nothing happening between you and Sunghoon, and how evident it now is that all of that was bullshit.

But now, you couldn't care if the whole universe is privy to you and Sunghoon's relationship.

All you want is to know is what realization he had. In this moment, you're desperate to realize it too.

"When will you cut the shit?"

Silence. A fork scraps against a plate.

"You know, Sunghoon. I've thought many things of you. How could I not? The school's star athlete who has everyone at his feet."

A dry laugh, a nervous glance to the side.

"You had me, too."

Sunghoon's knuckles turn white from how harshly he grips his fork.

"Never did I think of you to be a coward."

The sound of your steps bounce off the walls. Every pair of eyes in the room trails behind you, this time, including Sunghoon's.

His brain is a broken record machine. Replaying your words again, again, and again.

What is Park Sunghoon so... afraid of?

What is he so defenseless against that it's worth seeing the lights in your eyes die?

Sunghoon doesn't know what compels him to ignore you. To walk past you each day, as if you didn't convince him that happiness doesn't exist anywhere except for in your arms.

Perhaps, it's that you are a whirlwind of unfamiliarity. An onslaught of foreign emotions. You make him unsure of what to do with himself. Perhaps he finds it easier to avoid that than to approach it.

He's been so adept at pushing it away, that he doesn't realize you're slipping through his fingers until his head is an echo chamber of your words.

He had you.

"Sunghoon..." A voice cuts through the fog. Sunghoon isn't sure which of his friends it belongs to. From the intonation, he assumes that it's Jake.

"Whatever this is, you've got to fix it."

Sunghoon has listened to your voicemail play six times. He's been trying for an answer, yet he doesn't mind dialling for a seventh.

You sound happy in your voicemail. He never wants to forget what you sound like happy.

"H-Hello?"

Sunghoon's been lingering at the summit of a cliff. Carefully composing himself to avoid slipping off the edge.

When he hears how utterly broken your voice is, suddenly, he's plummeting.

"Sunghoon?"

Falling, falling, falling—

A sniffle, followed by an impatient sigh. "Sunghoon, if you're just going to waste my time-"

"I'm outside."

Sunghoon closes his eyes. He sees the ridges and lines of your front door. He thinks they're permanently printed into his eyelids from how long he's been standing on your doorstep.

Don't hang up. Don't hang up.

"What?"

Sunghoon opens his eyes.

"I'm outside your door."

In his peripheral, the curtains of a window crack open. His heartbeat reaches his ears. You don't question him any further, but he hears distant footsteps from your end of the line.

The front door opens, then stops. Ajar. Hesitating.

Sunghoon knows you're on the other side. He prays you don't retract your movements.

You don't. You push through.

When you appear in the doorway, his breath dies in his throat.

Slightly bloodshot eyes. Strands of hair astray, haphazardly held together with a claw clip. A large sweatshirt swallowing your frame.

Sunghoon doesn't think he's ever seen anyone as beautiful as you.

He should've spoken by now. He'd planned on speaking by now, yet all he can do is look at you. Eyes trailing over every delicate curve. The slope of your nose, the moles on your hands.

When he hears the small sigh leave your lips, he knows you're slipping away.

His brain goes into overdrive. He needs to act fast.

Frantically, he clears his throat.

"Come watch the sunset with me."

A breeze blows by. The neighbour's wind chimes knock together, playing a soft jingle.

"Please."

The only words you speak to Sunghoon on the bus are to ask where you're going.

He tucks his bottom lip between his teeth, remaining silent.

You close your eyes. Surrendering. You're so sick of his silence.

You shouldn't have come. You're stupid to have believed otherwise—

"Don't."

Eyes snap open.

You turn to look at Sunghoon. You find that he's already looking at you.

"Don't- don't regret this," he pleads. Desperation pours from his voice. You would've scoffed if he wasn't wearing the rawest expression you've lived to see.

Park Sunghoon leaves you in despair.

No matter which lens you look at him through, he has no solution. He's wrung you dry of hope, yet you don't find yourself objecting when he brings your head onto his shoulder. His hastiness screams craving for proximity. Craving for reassurance.

Deep down, you know you're just the same.

You let Sleep take you.

It's the soundest you've slept in weeks.

You've seen the sunset thousands of times in your life.

From every place you've ever been. School grounds. Your bedroom. The drive home. Through the eyes of others.

And yet, none of those thousands of times hold a candle to the sight from the pier.

"It's beautiful," you breathe out.

A small hum in agreement. You smile weakly.

You know he isn't looking at the sunset, but you don't face him just yet.

"Sunghoon?"

He steps closer.

"What happened?"

You can feel him stiffen. Your eyes never tear from the vermillion sky. You're not sure if you're paralyzed by beauty, or by fear.

A head drops onto your shoulder. Its weight is comforting. Slowly, he readjusts himself to stand in front of you. Face pressing into your neck. Hands wrapping around your waist, holding on like you'd disappear if he let go.

His body shakes with each breath. It takes every bit of your resolve to not wrap your arms around him.

You let Park Sunghoon cry on your shoulder.

You don't think you'd ever deny him of it.

The sun doesn't budge from where it sits in the sky. It seems to be waiting for the two of you.

When Sunghoon peels his face away from you, you finally look at him. You can feel your heart fall apart in your chest.

Park Sunghoon is more beautiful than any sunset you'll ever see.

A careful hand reaches up. It barely rests against his jaw. You nearly chuckle at how he instantly leans into your touch.

He's staring at you through half-lidded eyes. Slightly parted lips. A gaze filled with longing, remorse, and a million unspoken words.

He leans in, nose brushing against yours. Before he can mouth the words he wants to say, you meet him half way.

The kiss is slow. Delicate. Fragile. Sunghoon is too scared to treat you as anything less.

It lacks the hunger of the one before. Your body is pulled flush against his. He's trying to convey thousands of apologies all at once. Hoping his sincerity can penetrate your skin, travel through your veins, and reach your soul. The way he's kissing you is heart-wrenching.

"I-" he gasps when you part. "Please. Please forgive me."

"Come back to me," you croak. "Why did you shut me out?"

He presses kisses to your jaw, then to your cheek. His hands slide up to your cup your face.

"Because I love you."

You close your eyes. Soaking in each sacred word that falls from his lips. Shuddering.

You feel like crying.

"I love you so much that I don't know what to do with myself. With you, nothing feels real. Time stops ticking. Everyone else fades into oblivion, and I feel like I'm on top of the fucking world," he whispers, voice wet and rushed.

Your forehead connects with his. A gentle rhythm is tapped onto his nape with the intention of calming him down.

"I've never felt like this before. I- I just-"

Sunghoon's face twists. He's fighting against his emotions.

You watch as he deflates.

"Please... find it in your heart to forgive me."

A small smile graces your face.

Under the glow of the setting sun, everything is okay.

"Stop staring at me like that."

Sunghoon peers up at you from your lap. His face glows golden.

A mischievous smile appears on his face. It infects you like a virus.

"Is it illegal for me to admire my girlfriend?"

"Yes." You shoot him with a finger gun. "Hands up."

Soft laughter fills your ears. You let Sunghoon pull you down into a gentle, loving kiss.

You'd let him do it for all of eternity.

To you, Park Sunghoon is like the moon. Beautiful, and so, so far away.

Now, you think Park Sunghoon is more like the setting sun.

Beautiful, and just on the way home.

[wheredidhiseyebrowsgo]

Hiiii! I've been scrolling on your account for the past hour and haven't found what I was looking for, so here I am. I've been wanting to read a Sterek fic where Stiles just takes a gun and shoots straight or whatever and when everybody is like wth he just says: what? My dad's a cop! Just, super badass Stiles. Pleaaaase

Let's see.

Bang Bang Baby by rlnerdgirl

(1/1 I 5,388 I Explicit I Sterek)

When Stiles said he was going to Los Angeles for a week for “PD,” Derek is pretty sure it’s the flimsiest excuse for a solo-vacation, and he feels bad having to call him back early. But there’s something in Beacon hills, something more dangerous than they’ve dealt with in a long time. Turns out, Stiles did go to professional development, to help him deal with shit in Beacon Hills, and when Derek gets a look at what he’s been doing, he’s more than a little conflicted.

Derek manages to blink, tearing his eyes from the gun and bringing his attention to Stiles’ face. “That isn’t a gun.” His voice is rough, mouth still parched.  

The smile that pulls at Stiles’ lips makes him frown. “No,” Stiles agrees. “That’s a Barrett M82A1 sniper rifle, which, according to my instructors, I am a natural at firing, so much so that I have been suggested, many times over the past week, to enter some kind of,” the hand on the back of Derek’s neck stops stroking as Stiles’ wrist moves, hand making a gesture of some kind, “competition for, because apparently shooting competitions are things that exist. I mean, I guess I knew that. I just didn’t realize shooting this would be a competition.”

I'm the ghost of my mistakes by GreyHaven

(20/20 I 29,696 I Explicit I Sterek)

Stiles hasn't been known as Stiles for the past six years. He's Mitch Rapp, a CIA assassin with 117 kills under his belt. When he gets a late night call from Scott, saying Derek has been taken, he's on the road back to Beacon Hills in less than ten minutes. He's going to get Derek back, even if that means adding a few more kills to his ledger.

Hear The Wheels As They Roll by crossroadswrite

(2/2 I 44,919 I Teen I Sterek)

“You can’t be here. This is private property,” someone calls out and for some reason that voice sounds painfully familiar.

When it hits him why, Stiles almost chokes with the realization, “Derek Hale,” he says, unbelievably happy because he remembers Derek when they were young.

Derek looks grumpier, sadder, angrier. Stiles can’t really fault him for that. He also looks surprised that Stiles knows who he is. He squint/glares suspiciously at him, his nostrils flare for a second before he widens his eyes almost dramatically.

“Stiles,” he says quietly, like he can’t really believe it.

Stiles beams, “Yeah, you remember me!”

AND

@lovesouthernsweettea suggested this series!

The Sum of It's Parts by KouriArashi

AND

@merchymynydd suggested this one!

So Take a Long Shot by relenafanel

(1/1 I 2,650 I Teen i Sterek)

Stiles is ten when his father teaches him how to shoot. He sucks with a handgun, more likely to shoot off his own foot than the target.

The same cannot be said for his skill with a long-range rifle (but he's no one's weapon).

Eventually, Stiles knows, the secret will come out, because there are just some people he will save at all costs.

(That day comes when they're hunting a redcap through the forest and can't reach Derek in time)

[ddejavvu]

Plain Old Man - Jim Hopper x Reader

Summary: Jim can't figure out why you love him. After all, isn't he just a plain old man?

Contents/Warnings: hop's self-conscious :(, consensual + legal age gap, fem!reader

requested: hopper x younger really feminine reader. he think she’s the cutest thing ever and that she’s too good for him so he’s kind of upset, but she figures it out and sits on his lap and kissing all over his body </333 // slightly deviated from, but i hope you still enjoy it!

WC: 1.47K / navi

feedback is greatly appreciated! comment, reblog, talk in the tags, send me a message, tell me what you think!

You love Fridays, because when Jim swings by the pizza place for your dinner, he stops into the boutique next door, and always brings you something. Last week it was a pair of dangly earrings, shimmery and green in the shapes of fairy wings. The week before that it was a silver necklace with a pearl charm, to match a set of earrings he'd gotten before that.

You're buzzing with excitement as you hear his car pull up outside, and you bypass the hand he's balancing the pizza on to wrap your arms around his waist. They interlock behind him and you squeeze, wishing you could latch yourself onto him forever and hang off of him like a sloth.

"Hop!"

"Hey, sweetheart." You feel a kiss placed on the crown of your head, his mustache prickling the skin there, "Let's get inside, okay? Pizza's gonna get cold."

Your nose is, too, so you let him nudge you back inside before it starts to ache.

"I baked us muffins," You inform him, taking the box from his hands and watching him toe off his muddy work shoes by the door, "They're blueberry, but I added that topping over them that you liked last time on the banana ones. It's a little sticky, and kinda clumpy, but it tastes the same!"

He nods through your ramble, eyes lighting up at not only the prospect of muffins but of the special crumble you lay over top. He ushers you into the kitchen, but when you reach for the lid of the pizza box he sets a hand on your waist.

"Aren't you forgetting something?" he pats the breast pocket of his jacket, and you visibly brighten.

"Oh! Oh," You gush, reaching eagerly for the bag that he hands you, crinkly plastic and purple-tinted, "Thank you, honey."

Your nails pry at the tissue paper that's wrapping whatever present you've gotten, and when you rip the tape away it reveals two barrettes, one pink and one blue. they're beaded, shimmery under the light, and they'll look adorable tucked into your hair.

"Hop," You gush, surging forwards to face-plant into his chest, "I love them! I can use them to twist my hair back like I've been doing lately."

"I know," He nods, leaning forwards to bump his nose into your own, his eyes crinkled at the corners with a smile, "That's why I bought them. I know the pins haven't been holding it."

You'd stolen two worn-out, dented bobby pins from Jim's nightstand, that you're fairly certain he'd used to pick locks with. It concerned you, but he hasn't asked for them back, so you're sure his lock-picking days are behind him.

"Put 'em in!" You urge him, unclipping the barrettes from the card they're on and dumping them into his large, rough hand, "You know how to do it, right?"

"I know how to pull your hair back," He scoffs, sticking one clip between his teeth so that his words muffle as he uses his hands to twist a chunk of your hair away from your face. He pulls it back and secures it with the clip, a snap letting you know it won't fall out.

"Perfect," He praises you (though you think it might be aimed at himself), and pops a kiss to the metal clip.

Your smile is infectious as he uses the other clip on the opposite side of your head, thick fingers twisting your delicate hair carefully. When it's pinned he kisses that side, too, and backs away to look at you head-on.

He smiles, but it's strange. It doesn't fade, per se, but the look in his eyes shifts, and your gut churns with nerves when they seem to be sad.

"Hop?" You tilt your head, watching him try and fail to focus on you instead of whatever's happening in his head, "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," He nods, pressing a mediocre kiss to your cheek as he rushes for the pizza box behind you, "Yeah, sweetheart. You look real pretty. Let's eat, okay?"

He plates his pizza in silence, so you do too. But it's strange, because he always complains about the cheese not being gooey when he pulls slices apart, and there's not a peep out of him today. Just a downcast glance that tracks his feet all the way to the couch. He typically spreads out, eager to relax after a day of work, but he sits proper, plate on his lap and eyes on the tv.

You reach down to flick it on when you pass, and you sit closer to his side than you normally would. You feel his thigh tense up against your own, and you frown, glancing over at him.

"Jim," You croon, setting your hand cautiously against his thigh, "Are you okay? The truth this time, please."

"Yeah, honey, I.. I don't know." He shakes his head slightly, blinking rapidly and sighing, "It's fine, really. I like your clips, sweetheart, they look good."

He goes to take another bite of pizza, but you pull it out of his hands just before he can. It means that his teeth clack together instead of meeting the bread, and he looks bewilderedly at you, hand still outstretched.

"Hey," He frowns, "That's my pizza."

"I know it's your pizza," You plop it back onto the plate, setting it on the coffee table and taking its place in his lap, "It'll still be your pizza when you tell me what's bothering you."

He sighs again, and this time you feel it where your hands are braced on his belly. You smooth your hands over it, tracing your thumbs from the dip of his navel out to his sides.

"Tell me, Jim," You plead, "I'm worried about you."

He looks at you for a moment, head-on, eye to eye and face to face, and breaks. He murmurs a gruff 'fuck,' under his breath, head drooping down so that his chin meets his chest.

"Jim," You whine, tucking your fingers under his chin and lifting it so that he can't avoid your eyes, "Just tell me, honey. I need to know."

"You are.." He pauses, cupping your cheek and smiling sadly at you, "Gorgeous. You know that?"

"You tell me all the time," You promise him, shimmying your hips slightly to press your tummy further into his, "What's that got to do with anything?"

"I think you're too gorgeous for me. And sweet, and nice, and perfect. I'm a plain old man," He gestures to himself, his beige uniform and scruffy stubble, "That's it."

"You're not a plain old man," You chide him, pinching at the pudge of his belly, "You're the man I love. You know that, don't you? That I love you."

"I'd like to think so," His smile stays sad, "I just can't think of a reason you would."

"Well because- because you're.. you! Jim," Your brows furrow and you lean closer, nose-to-nose, "I love you because of who you are. Not because of any one specific reason, the reason is just you. I love you, Jim Hopper."

His hand cups the back of your neck and pushes you forwards. It's not a kiss, but your lips meet, as do your foreheads as your noses smush together.

"You're too good to me," He murmurs, his voice slightly raspy.

"No," You protest, pecking his lower lip in a sweet smooch, "I could never be too good to you. 'Cause you deserve the best."

"You are cheesy today," He chuckles, but you know it's not an insult as much as it is an observation, "Did those muffins have extra sugar in them? Something's got you all sweet."

"It's you," You grin, knocking your nose into his once more and digging your hands into the soft chub of his belly, "I'm glad you're home. I missed you all day, I wanted to call you a bunch but I didn't wanna bother you."

"You wouldn't bother me," He promises, smoothing a hand down your back, "But it's probably not good to hold up the line at the police station."

"Yeah," You hum sadly, and lean down to tuck your face over his shoulder in a much-needed hug, "It's better when El's here. She keeps me company."

"Speaking of," He glances at the clock, patting your back gently, "We need to go get her soon. Max's mom said she can't stay another night, she's got chores to do."

"Finish your pizza," You clamber off of his lap and rush for your own plate, "Because before she comes back, you're going to make me happy scream."

"Oh, yeah?" He laughs as you settle yourself back against him on the couch, attention finally turned to the television, "We should brush our teeth first, then. I'm not kissing pizza breath."

feedback is greatly appreciated! comment, reblog, talk in the tags, send me a message, tell me what you think!

[giuliettagaltieri]

Against All Odds

Pairing: Groom!Coriolanus Snow x Bride!Reader

Chapter Synopsis: The Bride

Warning: minor wedding drama

Word Count: 2275

4 of 7

Coriolanus believes it is possible for a person to be so happy for his senses to numb over.  It is possible when someone goes into shock and panic.  And the state of happiness he is in is just as powerful.

The crowd cheered so loudly but his head refused to process it.  The colors and movement on the side was also being ignored.  Everything fades to nothing but with the exception of his tactile sensation.

If there was a ticket to Heaven, it is your lips.  It was soft and pillowy, just like how he remembered.  And you are sweet, you tasted just like fresh pomegranate.  The moment your lips touched, there was no point of return.  He opens his eyes to watch you.  Too lost in the kiss, your eyes have fluttered shut.  Expertly brushed lids covering your eyes.

He studies your features while he is in close proximity.  And he was glad to know that he felt the same affections for you when you are only a millimeter far or a kilometer far.  Coriolanus smiles through the kiss, pulls you closer and kisses you deeper.

Your fingers snake to his nape and you play with his hair.  Soft giggles attempt to escape you as his fingers dig deeper to your side.

Finally, Coriolanus lets you go and you part softly, your hair still tickling his cheeks.  You both open your eyes and share the purest of smiles.

The solemn ceremony ended and gave way to the reception.

Coriolanus made sure to give you the most lavish celebration.  It was like all the setbacks from yesterday were a decade ago.

You were most thankful to Dr. Gaul who seeded the clouds last night, making the tempest double its intensity.  The clouds cried the entire night that only a blanket of warm cerulean skies was left.

Tigris exceeded expectations with how well she made the final touches of Coriolanus’ suit.

And Mrs. Plinth gifted you a ruby set as your jewelry which matched the wedding motif perfectly.

Everything was perfect.

But what is a wedding without drama?

Lysistrata Vickers has taken your attention, congratulating you on your wedding.  You were not very close to her during your time in the Academy and University but you share no ill blood.  She was a close friend to Coriolanus in his time at the Academy and that was enough for you to be civil to her.

“I love the barrette.”  You point at the silver ornament that held her hair neatly.  She smiles at you as her fingers carefully brush on it.

“Thank you, I bought it specially for the wedding.”

You smile appreciatively at her as you reach to hold her hand.  The woman is smart, you’d love to keep good graces with her.  Although her kindness needs more filing down.

She excuses herself to get another glass of posca and you let her, now just soaking in the cheerful atmosphere of your guests enjoying your wedding.

You smile to yourself as you reach for your own glass of posca.  You swirl it before lifting it by the stem.  A slight movement from the corner of your eyes has you looking over.  There, Dr. Gaul raises her own glass at you, a sharp smile quirks on her lips.  You lift your own glass to her and you both drink.

Her efforts were well appreciated, perhaps you’d visit the University and fund one of her projects.

“You brought this upon yourself!”

You glance to the side to see your husband talking to Livia Cardew who had her face scrunched. 

Coriolanus was standing with indifference, it was almost comical to see Livia behave so emotionally.

“You always had a knack for making bad decisions but to marry that woman when many more were much suitable for the title!”  She seethes, her nails digging on her cream dress.  The audacity to wear such a color so close to your gown!  “This is what happens to kids with no mothers to guide them”

You glance at a peacekeeper who looks at Livia before nodding at you.

Sighing, you walk over to them.

“Are you insinuating that I should have married you instead?”  Coriolanus asks calmly, but you hear the mocking tone in his voice and you don’t bother to hide your condescending smile.

Livia’s face reddens like a beet and she curls her hand tightly, as if ready to strike.  She looks at the place with disgust.  “This is a mistake!  The Swansworth name died with that vile woman’s father.”

The sound of your heels hitting the floor summoned a smirk to Coriolanus’ face.  He recognizes your pace anywhere.

“I can assure you, it is very much alive.”  You glide next to Coriolanus, hooking your arm with his.  Livia eyes you angrily, the grimace on her face making her less attractive with every second.

“My love.”  Coriolanus acknowledges you and plants his lips on yours. 

You chuckle upon seeing your lipstick stain on his lips and your hand lifts to swipe your thumb on his lips, your enormous ring glinting and blinding Livia with the reflected light.  You and Coriolanus share mischievous smirks as she curses, now rubbing her eyes.

“‘A mistake’ she called our wedding.”  Coriolanus grins.

You continue to look up at him, your smile widening as a peacekeeper approaches Livia and takes her away.  She was struggling and causing a commotion but you and Coriolanus are in your own world and you cannot break the rose tinted hue that your gazes share.

“It has got to be the best mistake we ever made.”  You respond and he can’t help but steal another kiss from you.

The music shifts to a calmer one and Coriolanus places an arm on your waist as he leans down to look you in the eyes quite like how he did earlier in the altar.

But this one was different.  You see the anxiousness in them.

“Do you think you will regret marrying me?”  He asks suddenly and you almost scoffed, had it not been for the sincerity in his voice.

“Are you second guessing your decision, Coriolanus Snow?”  You narrow your eyes, tilting your chin up until your noses brush.

He shakes his head, his arms tightening its hold on your waist.  “No, no.  I don’t think I ever can.”  He glances at your lips and his brows crease.  “I have given you all that I am, Y/N Swansworth.  Please do not break me.”

You sigh, smiling at him with your eyes showing him understanding beyond comprehension.  He wonders how you do it.  Times come when he even struggles to understand himself but you seem to see every fiber of his being in highest clarity.

“You have my heart as your prisoner, Coriolanus.  Hurting you would be the death of me.”

He smiles softly but he remains looking at you, waiting for you to continue.

“The only regret I will ever have from tonight is letting Festus make that toast.”  You place your forehead on his shoulder.  Coriolanus laughs heartily as you groan.

“Indeed.”  He chuckles.  “It was a very emotional speech.”

You roll your eyes.  “There was more sobbing than actual speech.”

His thumb brushes on your back.  “He was just happy.”

“He had too much posca.”  You counter and Coriolanus had to yield.

Mr. Plinth did tell him earlier to know when to shut up once in an argument with his wife if he wanted to keep the marriage long and prosperous.

“Gods.”  Coriolanus groans and you see him massaging his brows.

“What is it?”  You asked, concern lacing your voice.

“Price.”

You glance at the champagne tower behind Corio and you see a reflection of Persephone Price walking in your direction with the widest smile.

“I can try to distract her.”  You offered gently, your hand massaging his arm.  His discomfort towards Persephone was still present despite his attempt to recover from the horrors brought by the Dark days.

“No!”  He was quick to say.  “I don’t want you alone with her.  Or any Price for that matter.  Just give me a moment.”

You stay silent, letting him decide what to do.

Coriolanus can be civil with her if necessary but he decided he did not want that tonight.

“Corio?”  You ask when his eyes darted around the hall before they settled on you.

“May I have this dance?”

“What are you-”

He suddenly pulls you by the hand, laughing as he avoids the crowd.  You were so lost but your feet tried to keep up with him anyway.

“Oh, Gods.”  You gasp when Corio takes a sharp turn after nearly colliding with Grandma’am.  “Sorry, Grandma’am!”  You yell as you continue running with Coriolanus.

Grandma’am fell on her chair, pointing at the two of you as she muttered how you two should not be running, and in your wedding reception too!

Coriolanus laughed as he held your hand tighter.  You laughed along as one of your hands held the tiara attached to your long trail of veil.

You see Tigris in the sides and she gives you a warm smile as you pass her.  It has been a while since she saw the same excitement and joy in Coriolanus’ eyes.  And she has you to thank for it.

Festus cheers as you pass his table, his champagne spilling to the floor and Lystrata grins as she shakes her head.

Cameras were clicking in your direction but you cannot care as you feel yourselves becoming one with the wind, Coriolanus nearly slips on the spilt champagne and you laugh once more as you stomp hard on the puddle, sending a splash to the dress of Clemensia Dovecote who was looking at you with animosity.

At that moment, you did not care about your families’ reputation.

Coriolanus is not the son of Crassus Snow.

You are not the daughter of Thanatos Swansworth.

You were just you.

The doors slammed open loudly and the two of you came to a stop as camera flashes blinded you.  Both of you are breathing heavily, sweat beading on your temples and your clothing sticking to your backs.

Without thinking, Coriolanus pulls you to the side and takes off again.

The paparazzi chases you, asking about your wedding and your plans but you are too busy trying to get as far away as possible from them.

Upon seeing a maid, you halt in your steps and Coriolanus glances at you with perplexity. 

“I have an idea.”

The maid who was carrying a basket full of linen was stunned to see you.  She was in utter shock that she was biting her tongue as she stumbled with her words.

You ended up following her in a secluded hallway.  It was under renovation and one cannot enter unless they come through the servants’ passage.

It was directly above the reception, the maid tells you.  And indeed, you can still hear the loud chatter in the wedding and the muffled music.

The maid scurries away after bowing in a back-breaking manner.

You and Coriolanus share a look and you burst out laughing.

“I cannot believe we spent the entire day yesterday stressing about making this wedding…”  You wave your hand in the air as you roll your eyes.  “perfect.”

“Only to run away.”  Coriolanus chuckles as he stares at the wide lawn, the city center of the Capitol is miles away, thus the lesser light pollution.

A familiar tune has you perking up and Coriolanus watches how you sway with the melody.

“I did ask you to dance, didn’t I?”  Coriolanus walks over to you and offers you his hand.

You narrow your eyes playfully.  “You’re not going to bolt again, are you?”

He purses his lips to contain a laugh.  “No.  I am asking for a real dance this time.”

Humming in content, you take his hand and you let him sway you to the song.  It seems the dance lessons you took while you were in the Academy paid off.

“You are a good dancer.”  You say with your brows slightly raised.

“You seem surprised.”  He replies before dipping you lowly.

The song ends and your chests are flushed together as you breathe heavily.  He keeps his eyes on you as your hand grips on his nape for support.

Your lips look lovely in that angle.

“Don’t divorce me.”  You say quietly, almost in a warning.

Coriolanus was about to retort but you cut him off before he can say anything.

“I studied your constitution and legislation.  I could strip you of power before the weekend.”  No, it was more of a threat.

Despite the venom you are spouting, the smile on Coriolanus’ lips remains undeterred and he kisses your lips with utmost gentleness.

When he breaks the kiss, your stern gaze has softened.

“I made a vow, in front of the gods.”  He says and he pulls you so you are both standing upright.  “I intend to honor that vow.”

You stare up at him before relenting.  Your bottom lip juts out as you smooth out the creases that appeared on his coat. 

“I’m your husband now.”  He grins.

“Oh, is that what you are?”  You feign a surprise as his grin widens.  “I thought you were just a fancy chaperone.”  You suddenly pull him by his collar, no trace of jest in your face.  “Remember what I told you.”

He leans down, his voice low.  “Oh, how easily threats can slide from those lips.”

“Lips you adore?”  You raise a brow haughtily and his smile drops, his eyes hazing over with danger as he leans down until his warm breath fans your face.

“Lips I worship.”

Quest for Happiness

Wedding Magazine by Trinket & Co.