#and this is the end of shark's negativity corner now

[nonnieapple]

⛈ ☂️ Peach Pit, 5- Long Season Through☂️ ⛈

• (Akura-ou x g/n reader x Tomoe)   • r a t i n g: m a t u r e • 1 5 2 3 w o r d s  •  p o s t e d 21.01.2024    🌧  navigation 🍑 previous chapter 🍑 next chapter • s u m m a r y: you're a peaceful farmer in the mountains during the sengoku period. someone starts stealing your peaches, and the thief turns out to be a chaotic oni, and the events that ensue flip your life upside down. • c h a p t e r s u m m a r y: an opportunity presents itself in annoying hues. TW: fire mention, (a copious amount of) alcohol(ism) (being ingested). .

The sound of a shovel hurling through the air and hitting a mound of mud made the birds in a three-hundred and sixty-shaku radius take off flying in a petrified haze. 

  Your mood was a rotten peach decaying in the mud. The amount of negativity surrounding you could summon a miasma. 

  You sat on the grass, hanging your head low. Last week had been tough. You didn't feel the same after what happened in the town. He stopped it, but he was so close to not. If not for your tears, everyone would've... 

  You pressed your hands into your temples. You focused on your breathing. Even writing hadn't gone well today, your strokes were lax and the words wouldn't flow. Neither did cooking go well. You ended up eating a ridiculous amount of bread and pickled plums. 

  You wouldn't need to eat for another century. And when you tried reading, your eyes and mind wandered far from the page. 

  A shadow obscured the dim sun. 

  You looked up. 

  A bold red shadow against the blue sky stood above you. Great. The last person you wanted to see. 

  "What do you want, oni?" You asked with a small voice, cracking throughout. 

  "Come with me, crazy human." He reached out a claw to you. It was framed by black, chrome feathers.

  You took it, and he lifted you easily. A soft reminder of his power. His hand was hot. 

  "Cool." You stood, waiting patiently for him to do some magic. 

  He rose a brow.

  "You're not going to argue with me?" 

  You shook your head. 

  "Take me away from this wretched place. I'm done." 

  After a delay, he smirked, flashing his razor-sharp shark teeth. 

  Instead of fog, everything swirled with black wind, like a thick smog that prompted you to cough. 

  You stood in a worn down castle, once abandoned but now lived in again, taken by force, made evident by the damage and odd decor. It was incohesive, cobbled together, the most expensive treasures and baubles someone had stuffed in corners and stuck on walls. 

  Akura kept walking. You tapped your foot in place. 

  "Huh? Aren't you coming?" 

  "Nah. I've decided to stay and rot here 'til I die." You smiled. 

  "I decide who rots and when in this castle. Move," He ordered.

  You didn't budge as he softly pressed on your back. Your sandals shuffled. 

  "Tomoe has your dagger. He's here. You could, you know, get it back." His hair ghosted over your neck. 

  Your eyes lit up, and you felt determination coming back to you. 

  "Really?" You began walking, his hand still on your back. 

  "Really. But don't think it'll be easy." He laughed behind closed teeth. You felt a chill run up your spine as his claws brushed your skin. 

  The castle was far from empty. It was filled with servants and goons of Akura-ou. You assumed that's what they were. Or maybe they were Tomoe's? 

  Your destination had been a large room with a few floor-to-ceiling windows and various tables. At one with three chairs, in the middle chair, sat Tomoe. Portuguese chairs, carved intricately. Such luxury. 

  Next to him on the table were several flasks of sake, sake cups, brushes, and... ink... and paper. How peculiar. 

  A sparkle. Your dagger was lying in his lap. His tail swung quickly. 

  "You're back quick." 

  The door closed loudly. It shook the walls. The room smelled of incense- standing in the other corner of the room- and... alcohol. And pine, and a subtle cherry smell. So much was going on, and your brain had trouble processing it, including the unusual spirits on either side of you. 

  "I don't like dragging things out."

  You plopped down in one of the other chairs, Akura-ou in the one opposite of you. 

  You inspected the table, glancing up at Akura and Tomoe with owlish eyes. 

  "You get your dagger if you win," Akura said, nodding over to Tomoe. His ears perked up. 

  "You and Akura-ou will drink undiluted sake until you're as drunk as can be. Then, you both will attempt to write [the kanji for] "melancholy rose". The one who manages to do so- will keep the dagger," Explained Tomoe. 

  Your joy faded as quickly as it came. 

  "Drinking with a yokai?! That's damn impossible!" You tangled your hands in your hair. Tomoe smiled. 

  "We'll see." Tomoe glanced to Akura, and their eyes met, smiles matched in mischieviousness, one face demonic, and one ethereal. 

  You inhaled. 

  You smiled smugly. 

  "Fine. I take your deal." 

  The first drink was a puppy. 

  The tenth was a hellhound biting off your head. 

  Some time after that you had stopped counting. 

  You groaned, hot face held in your shaky hands. The alcohol burned in your stomach all the way back up your throat. Your mouth had started to numb. You could see well enough, but your body was loose, and each movement seemed so much more broad and intense. You laid your head on the table. You kept feeling the fabric of your clothing with your fingertips. 

  Akura had a lightly flushed face and kept needlessly fixing his hair. You had an... uncontrollable urge to go for a run. And to knit. You never knitted. Or went for runs. 

  "How drunk are you?" Asked Tomoe, watching you with disinterest. Akura-ou flipped his hair, and it hung from his horns. He attempted to fix it, only managing to tangle another piece of hair on his golden disc earrings. He growled. 

  You tried to lift yourself. Your body was heavy. You huffed, clinging to your chair. 

  You gasped. 

  "Drunk... enough..." You sighed, folding over. Your hair obscured your vision. Akura-ou's eyes were glassy and squinting at a corner in the room. 

  You stared at him through your hair. 

  "How are you drunk? When you drank at the festival... you downed what seemed like bottle after bottle with no issue-" You forced out between breaths and nonsensical hums. 

  "I drank only.... a glass.... or two. The rest was... juice." He tried to lean back, almost falling and catching himself by gripping the table. 

  A screen was placed between you two. His horns still peeked out from behind. 

  You were given a brush, ink, and a piece of paper. You inhaled, trying to focus and pull yourself together. You only made yourself dizzier. 

  The melancholy rose kanji... the shapes were vaguely in your mind. One was like a chicken coup with a skewer on top. The other was like a wise old man squinting... or something like that. 

  You were thankful you had eaten a lot that day, as it seemed you were faster to sober up. Akura... by his shadow, it seemed like he wasn't writing at all, only swaying back and forth like a maple sapling in the wind. 

  You made your best guess with the parts of the kanji you remembered. You cringed. And empty page- a writer's worst nightmare. Shapes swirled before you and your world spun as you felt nausea rise in your throat. Your body felt weightless and you felt yourself floating away into a reverie. 

  You closed your eyes. A while ago you wrote something with those exact words. You audibly hummed as you thought and your face scrunched in frustration. You wished you could shove your hand into the deepest parts of your brain and retrieve the memory and slap it on the page. You bit your lip. 

  You opened your eyes. The page stared back expectantly. 

  "Don't look at me like that." 

  It didn't reply. You huffed, tapping your brush. 

  Your hand trembled as you dipped the brush into the ink, and set it down on the paper. If you never tried, you'd never win. And you couldn't miss the opportunity. So you steeled your nerves and wrote like you weren't drunk and being scrutinized by sly purple eyes. 

  You placed the final stroke, checking the writing. It was as close as you were going to get. You chewed on the inside of your cheek as sobriety came creeping up to you. 

  The screen was removed. 

  Akura was in the middle of falling asleep over what was... well, it could've been an abstract painting, it could've been an ink spill, it could've been a hallucination; it was many things- but it wasn't "melancholy rose". 

  You looked down at your paper. You hadn't fared too badly. 

  Tomoe's eyes widened. He banged on the table. 

  "Akura! That's abhorrent!" He pointed a grey claw at the paper. Akura ou hummed incomprehensibly in response. Tomoe stared at him with disappointment. They switched places. Akura was shoved out of his chair and into Tomoe's. He didn't seem to mind. He was in a place far away now. Rest in piss. 

  Tomoe sat down. He placed the dagger on the table. Your hand reached towards it. He spawned fire in his hand. You slapped it away. The fire faded. Tomoe looked surprised. 

  "I... HATE... fire," You mumbled angrily. You glared at him. 

  He tapped the table. 

  "I request a rematch, with me." 

  Tomoe poured another cup of sake. 

  Things were never as simple as you wanted them to be, huh? 

[nerdycolorcupcake]

WELP, THAT WAS A INTERESTING STREAM SO I'M BACK WITH MY HIGHLIGHTS

**SPOILER ALLERT AS USUAL**

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1- Tommy and Quackity exchange

My beloveds, loved all of it, Tommy so oblivious to the dark truth of "no americans" burg and even that he want to care abt his friend and quackity trying to be hopeful over the 2020 elections, hold me these two are gonna be the end of me

2- Ranboo and Mexican Dream

What a unexpected but welcoming surprise! Sadly Ranboo wasn't revived but he made a new friend! Mexican Dream my beloved i missed you <3

Ranboo was so sad and hopeless, maybe after that encounter the hope goes back up

3- Purpled and Punz (with slime being hold captive)

Dear god, the exchange I've been waiting sooo long to see, the brothers confronting, talking abt Quackity and Slime, and showing bits of how Punz still had a lot of influence over Purpled despite their clear hostility towards one another.

But as Punz said, he listened to the money and to Dream

4- Dream and Purpled team up against Quackity

Yep, that happened, and boy was the most scariest shit I've seen in the entire stream

Dream was there, ready to lock Quackity up and torment him just like the prison time and oh he was savoring the moment, a predator cornering their prey and man, i fuckin' loved it

I was thrilling from my seat, tense the entire time, and then the Slime army showed up THAT WAS HILARIOUS THANK YOU FOOLISH MY BELOVED! XD

5- Foolish and Quackity exchange

Welp, Foolish made his choice, Dream wasn't able to make him betray Quackity, and Foolish actually helped to protect Quackity with the slime army they both developed!

He is a loyal shark and honestly it is so goddamn refreshing, Foolish my beloved, never doubted you

6- SLIME FUCKING GIRLBOSS MONOLOGUE AND CLAIMING QUACKITY'S SECOND CANON LIFE AND PURPLED'S

Holy shit, that was marvelous, the entire lessons revisited and the slime showing Quackity the truth he didn't wanted to see, and then, killing him exactly how purpled expected, but sadly he wasn't there to see it, since he was killed first...

Now, i usually don't do this but i have some negatives of the stream:

7- Schlatt mentioned again, but no sight of him.... Seriously man, the moment was perfect, if he had at least one minute of screentime I would be the happiest girl ever, but nope, gotta wait some more

8- My Karlnapity enjoyers out there, I'm so sorry for your loss, no mention of Sapnap, Karl, nothing

9-Ranboo also wasn't revived...

[tteokdoroki]

countdown | k.bakugou + e.kirishima.

♡ pairing: katsuki bakugou, eijirou kirishima  x fem!reader.

♡ word count: 6.1K

♡ rating: mature, 18+, mdni.

♡ genre: college!au, fluff + smut.

♡ summary: with the new year finally approching, your boyfriends figure out the perfect way to start the countdown.

♡ warning(s): please read ! heavy smut, pwp ( characters aged up to twenties ), drinking, mentions of alcohol, poly!kiribaku, unprotected sex ( wrap it before you tap it y’all ), oral sex ( female recieving ), fingering, choking, dumbification, degredation, double penetration, daddy!kink, master!kink, creampie, cumplay. guys it’s a lot idk what to tell you brrrrr. 

♡ author’s note(s):  um this is like 8 days late but happy new years y’all, first fic of 2021 and it is a Wild one !! this kinda goes with along with my christmas deku fic, you don’t have to read it but it gives some context!! thank for all your love and support, stay safe babies <33

♡ masterlist | requests

“don’t look so nervous, shitty girl.”

your gaze flicks up  and to the left of the rim of your tainted red solo cup, a pretty mauve stain coating the outer edge.  you can see bakugou moving in your peripheral vision, slender body resting against the counter in the kitchen you’ve hidden yourself away in— outside a new years party bustles away, so full of life that you’ve struggled to become a part of.  it was supposed to be a small gathering, a few of your boyfriends’ mates were getting together to see off the awful year after finals and tears and mishaps.

you were excited, you’d spent some time with the group before and were stoked to get to know them a bit better— but the idea had quickly been scrapped when kirishima’s roommate turned the tiny event into a full blown goodbye bash. so now your social anxiety was through the roof and you could hardly think about enjoying yourself.

downing the rest of your... well whatever the hell it is...you shift to face the blonde with a slight scowl.  “i’m not nervous, katsuki.” you half growl in an attempt to keep the explosive blonde away, but crimson eyes with mischievously sparkling irises only roll once, your lover can read you like an open book— and for that you hate him... but only just.

“yeah?” katsuki hums, turning to corner you against the worktop. forgoing your empty cup, your free hands instantly settle themselves on your boyfriend’s hips— the material of his black skinny jeans rough against your palms, sneakily to thread fingers through his belt loops to tug him closer and barely feel flustered by the half lidded gaze bakugou gives you. “if you’re not s’nervous, then why the fuck are you hidden away in here?”

it’s your turn to send your eyes rolling, to which katsuki catches and gives you a gentle nip to the cheek. “i’m not hiding either, i came in here to get a drink for kiri— hey! don’t look at me like that.” the rest of your words fall flat in a whine you don’t mean to set free, bakugou grinning like a maniac above you. his eyes sparkle at the hint of your lie as if he can see right through you, which again... you hate. out of the two of your boyfriends; the blonde was able to pick up on your behaviours slightly faster than kirishima— you put it down the quick reflexes and his complex for wanting to be first at everything but that didn’t make him any less annoying.

in response, bakugou bites down a little harder on your fleshy cheek, pulling you closer by the waist so that your legs wrap around him from over the counter. “a drink that kiri already has, baby? stop lyin’, you loser,” he mumbles into your skin, making you huff. “talk to me.”

“fuck you, but fine...” whining again and with a slight buzz of alcohol to your veins you tilt your head before bakugou can affectionately chomp onto your cheek again and attempt to steal a small peck from him. your love only denies you of this pleasure, at least until you tell him the truth. “okay, okay. i’m in here hiding ‘cause there’s too many people and i’m afraid i’ll be too nervous to talk to your friends.”

“‘m feeling burnt out katsu, there’s so many more people here than i expected and i’m worried that your friends might not like me s’much anymore...”

bakugou smirks, running his tongue over the top row of his pearly whites and you cross your arms in defeat.  “you’re so fuckin’ stupid, yn.”

“fuck you! right up your stupid little ass—“

your blonde boyfriend raises a brow which silences you quickly and makes you wriggle in annoyance. “you’re stupid ‘cause our friends aren’t gonna stop liking you for gettin’ shy— there’s a lotta people out there that aren’t exactly kiri or i.” you perk up at the mention of your latter partner which makes katsuki smile and release you. “just relax. they love you, we love you...let’s just say goodbye to this fuckin’ shitty year, okay?”

you nod and watch as the male moves away from you to fix you both another set of drinks while you adjust yourself to go back into the outside world. the kitchen stays quiet compared to the bass blasted music that echoes throughout the dorm halls, giving you time to grasp at feelings of anxiety and attempt to soothe them— you promise yourself to leave all of the negative feelings behind and focus on making happy memories with your friends. bakugou breaks you from your thoughts and hands you another cup filled with a drink you recognise to be your favourite, he doesn’t speak however and leans back against the worktop to drink his own beverage.

you’ve always liked that he gives you room to think and make a note to show your appreciation later on. your boy’s love language was always through actions and hardly ever words.

but your bubble of sweet silence is soon burst when one of your partner’s friends darts into the kitchen, a look of excitement dancing brightly across pink lined features. her amber eyes land  on you first and swiftly find bakugou after causing a smile to break out against her features. “ohmygod finally, i was wondering where you guys got to! come on, the countdown’s about to start!” you quickly place her name to be mina, remembering her voice from the last time you’d met and offer her a sweet smile in return as her hand reaches out for yours. you take it.

bakugou tsks; clearly irritated but pushes himself off of the counter and follows behind you motherless, mina dragging you in the direction of the living room. somehow she effortlessly weaves you through sweaty bodies of students from the floors below and practically tosses you to the sharks that can be named as your boyfriends’ pals. luckily, your katsuki is right behind you to steady your hips while mina flops onto a couch with the others.

“there they are! two thirds of our favourite lovebirds...” someone to the right of you speaks up; you recognise her to be the roommate you’d walked in on when visiting bakugou’s place before christmas and relax a little. the girl was nice, affectionate and ever so sweet with you the first time you’d met. she curls up in the lap of another guy with green chair, who you presume is the ‘shitku’ or ‘deku’ your lovers had told you about, respectively.

speaking of, katsuki makes himself comfortable next to kirishima on his old loveseat from your hometown— you’d played rock paper scissors with him to keep it, but lost. you couldn’t complain though, the red heard rewarding you with a flurry of kisses in place of the old battered chair.

but with no room and the gang already taking up most of the couch, eijirou pulls you to sit on his thighs and wraps his arms around your middle before pressing a kiss atop your head. “missed you, where’d you go?” he pouts into your neck and fiddles with the frayed ends of your skirt, his free hand grasping at the drink he had.

“i was—“

“she was hidin’ in the kitchen; pretending to fix somethin’.” katsuki cuts you off, earning himself a glare from you and amused chuckles from others ( having pulled their attention away from the countdown on the television ). he attempts to snuggle closer to you both afterwards, making your red headed boy kiss his cheek. you could tell that your explosive boyfriend was feeling a little left out, he’d always doubted himself in the relationship the three of you had ever since he’d found out kirishima had you; his lover back in his hometown,  before college. but you’d loved kiri and couldn’t make him choose between the two people he needed most in his life, so despite the tears and drama...you’d learned to love bakugou as well.

you reach over to squeeze his hand but don’t miss the twitch of his lips into a smile while he watches the live countdown on tv.

kaminari; the blonde who sits at your feet pipes up next— cheeks red from the alcohol he nurses. “why were you hiding, doll?” he hiccups, earning himself a kick to he back from both bakugou and kirishima. “ouchies...”

“she probably wanted to get away from your annoying ass...” sero quips from across the group, where mina lazily toys with his jet black hair; causing bakugou’s roommate to snort and spew her drink in izuku’s face. as far as you were aware, the pair were living together in their apartment off campus and weren’t dating, but might as well have been. katsuki had told you sero was a coward but seeing them now made you think it was cute.

“fuck you, that’s mean!”

“ah, but kaminari my dear friend, it is true...”

a boy with dual eyes chuckles, himself and another figure join the latter male on the ground, hair ruffled and clothes clearly out of place. the girl blinks up at you with a sweet grin before turning to chat with the other girls while eiji fist bumps the male. you remember them as momo and todoroki respectively. bakugou’s roommate checks her watch quickly, a faux frown playing at her lips. “and you guys are done with fourty minutes to spare before new years , a new record...quite frankly, i’m impressed!”

it’s your turn to frown as the newbies blush and attempt to hide their faces. the rest of the group seem amused, sero and denki smirking between themselves, your boyfriends and izuku hiding embarrassed faces while the girls giggle and tease. you can’t help the next words.

“what were they doing?” you whisper innocently and mostly to yourself, unable to focus on the feeling of katsuki pressing kisses to your linked hands to avoid adding to the conversation. however; all eyes teeter over to you, making you freeze up and shuffle nervously in kirishima’s lap.

“fucking in the closet by the front door, they do it every year.” mina teases, causing your face to heat up while momo swats at the pink girl. “nasty right, yn?”

“quit it mina, you’re making her shy!”

you swallow hard and nod shakily, and swear you can almost feel the quiet groan that erupts from katsuki’s chest. “right...”

the group is clearly a little tipsy and you’re not quite drunk enough to feel eat ease with the antics of your lovers’ friends; but one thing lead to another and the topic of conversation lands on you. “maybe yn will get a little new years treat too—“ midoriya slurs somewhere off, by now he and his girlfriend alone have downed a bottle of vodka and cutely make out from time to time. and yet, your boyfriends both have different ideas, the hot headed blonde preparing to launch himself at izuku while the manly red head blushes a shade so deep it could rival his dyed hair.

“what’d you say, shitty nerd?”

it all happens way too fast and you can barely register bakugou’s sudden movement before it’s too late— his elbow jolts as he attempts to kill his best friend’s lover, resulting in eijirou’s drink being knocked clean out of his hand and all over your cute little shirt. you squeal and shudder as the cold liquid seeps right through the thin material, exposing your chest to partygoers and friends alike who cheer as the countdown locks onto thirty minutes until the new year.

kirishima jumps up right after you, shielding your exposed chest from his friends ( mostly denki ) who refuse to look away and leads you up to his room to change while bakugou barks out expletives at deku.

after all it was his fault that your cute tits were out on new years eve.

“what if she’s mad at us kiri? she was already feeling anxious about being here tonight and now—“

“she won’t bakubabe, she loves us and she’ll know it was just an accident, you were defending her honour after all...”

you choose this moment to push open the bathroom door of kirishima’s en-suite, having wiped away most of the beverage that had made your tummy sticky. luckily your skirt had survived his awful choice of rum and cola but at least you smelled nice. two sets of red eyes cast their gaze upon your form, naked apart from the cute pink bra that cups your breasts and tiny skater skirt that sits above your plush thighs.

the boys can already feel their mouths drying at the sight of you have exposed under the yellowing light of kirishima’s dorm room. your skin still shines with the reminders of alcohol as you make your way over to them on the bed, sitting between them with the aforementioned red head’s shirt in your hands.

instantly they shift closer towards you, absorbing your warmth as their fingertips graze your skin. “i told you guys i was fine, i know it was an accident.” you murmur softly, taking both of their hands into yours. “besides, i needed to get out of there for a bit, your friends are—“

“loud?” kirishima offers, kissing your knuckles.

“annoying?” this time it’s bakugou who speaks, shoving his face into your neck to hide from you, still apologetic. his soft blonde hair tickles your neck and you can’t help but giggle gently into the air. “you liked that.”

shaking your head, you pinch at his side and tug eijirou close enough for him to lean his head atop yours. “—they’re a lot, a lot to handle... i just need a little time to calm down before we head back out there.” briefly letting go of your boyfriends’ hands, you reach for the red band t-shirt sitting in your lap in order to shrug it on, but your red headed lover quickly stops you.

“i could think of a few ways to calm you down angel,” he mumbles lowly, so much so that you feel the sound ripple in kirishima’s chest but you’re too distracted by the sudden feeling of katsuki sucking gentle marks into the column of your throat. “we still have a bit of time before we hit midnight on the countdown, right bakugou?”

the hot headed boy only looks up briefly from your bruised and bitten skin, a devilish smirk crossing his lips while the boys work together to push you back onto the sheets. “damn right ei, say we got about twenty minutes to take her mind off things,” your body tingles at the way the talk about you as if you’re not even there, heat beginning to brew in the pits of your tummy. “so, keep the shirt off, won’t you baby?”

you release the offending material as if it’s burnt your palms, thighs spreading instinctively as kirishima’s hand wanders between them to smooth your soft flesh. “yes..., yes katsuki...”

“that’s not what we say, is it babe?” kiri scolds, slapping your inner thigh while bakugou leaves a trail of sloppy kisses that stop just atop your breasts.

“...i mean...yes, sir.”

“atta fuckin’ girl.”

your breath hitches at the feeling of katsuki’s finger tips wrapping around the base of your throat, his touch is delicate and compares starkly with the roughness of his skin— calloused from hard work and use of his quirk. eyes roll to the back of your head at that very thought, the idea that your lover could hurt you in the most delicious of ways using his explosive nature but you have little time to dwell on the fantasy as your other boyfriend moved to hover above your face, ruby red hair tickling at your forehead while he slots his lips against your parted ones.

kirishima’s lips are soft and bitter with the taste of rum clinging to every ridge and imperfection in the skin there so you reach up and weave your fingers through dyed locks in order to bring him closer. meanwhile, bakugou makes quick work of your laced bra— tearing it down to expose your nipples to the cool air they harden under. his hot mouth encapsulates the bud, rolling it between rows of sharp edged teeth in away that has your back arching for more. the blonde ravishes your chest teeth and tongue, while his freehand works on groping your other breast— both of the fleshy mounds being shown equal amounts of attention in different ways, making you whimper wetly against kiri’s mouth.

saliva pools on your tongue, collecting between you and your lover while his own explores the cavern of your hot mouth. the pair of you watch one another with hooded eyes as kirishima pulls away, nothing but a string on your drool connecting you. you swear that every nerve in your body lights up at once just at the sight. “katsuki, you should see yn’s little face right now,” he breathes weightily against your raw lips, hand coming up the squish your cheeks together almost painfully. “we’ve barley even touched her and she’s already looking so fucking fucked out.”

“eiji...sir, please...” you gargle at the mocking lilt to kirishima’s voice and let your hand slip from his hair to cup his wrist as he pinches at your cheeks once more.

but this time, katsuki is the one who speaks to you— vermillion eyes clouded with dark lust when he looks up at you. he’d long moved past his brutal assault on your chest, already leaving a mass of sloppy kisses and bite marks down your abdomen until now, where his head was buried right underneath your little skirt. “the fuck you begging for, slut?” the blonde sneers at you so harshly that pathetic tears begin to pool in your eyes. eijirou is quick to wipe them away before they can hit your heated cheeks but you can tell from the look on his face he’s even more turned on by the sight. “well? i asked you a question.”

“she’s crying, katsuki.”

“don’t give a fuck if she cries or not, i’ll give her a real reason to in a minute.” and katsuki bakugou always lives up to his threats, shuffling back under your skirt to press his tongue flat against your soaked panties. he groans into the material, sending vibrations straight up to your clit before he pulls the sticky material away  from your heat. “god...kiri, she’s s’fuckin’ wet. here.” you writhe against the sheets, jolting as bakugou guides your partner’s free hand to your gummy cunt.

his thick digits press into your sensitive nub and gather your slick between their fingertips, both boys watch in awe and hunger as more of the viscous nectar seeps out of you at their actions. “you’re right, she’s soaked, aren’t you baby?”

you can only nod weakly before the boys pounce, kirishima sucking his fingers clean before they go right back to drawing shapes on your puffy clit. bakugou wastes no time either, pinning you down to the bed with on arm as he slides his pink tongue up you the length of your glistening slit. the two of your lovers work together to make a mess of you, between the blonde slurping at your lower lips likes it his last mean and the red head circling your pleasure button over and over— you have no room to breathe.

all you can do is take what you’re given, throwing your head back as your  high pitched moans mingle with the steady beat of the music out in the hall. your pushy gushes around katsuki’s tongue as he forces it deeper into your tightness, committing each ridge to memory and dirtying his face with more of your juices. eijirou alternates the pressure of his fingers from time to time, grinning brightly every time your face twitches with need or with pleasure. your boys are so good to you, even when they’re in control of your body they always make sure you’re feeling good. getting you off, gets them off.

the waves of ecstasy are rolling off your sweat licked skin, the heat of two bodies pressed against you sending the temperature of your own off of the charts, arching perfectly every time katsuki nips at your pulsing pussy just right or eijirou pinches your clit between finger and thumb. you can’t help but leak all over the place, sure that there’s a dark patch on your innocent little skirt, but it’s worth it for the way your boys make you feel, for they tongue laps over your hard pleasure button even with fingers drawing every shape under the sun on it.

you gasp for air as the knot in your stomach twists and the fire of passion burns a brighter shade in your lower tummy, you sit right on the fence of earth shattering pleasure when both boys rip themselves away from you. “w-why’d...why’d you stop?” you wail, tears threatening to spill once more as your high slips away from your grasp.

you make an attempt to rut your hips into bakugou’s face that sits merely inches away from your sopping cunt, but he only smacks your thigh and cuts his eyes. “we’re checking the time, seeing how long we have left to make you feel good, so quit your fuckin’ cryin, okay?”

sniffling and bucking your hips into the air, you agree silently— only comforted by kirishima when he returns from his phone to cup your cheeks again, pressing kisses to your heated face. he slides his fingers that had been dirtied past your lips in a silent command to suck them clean too. “only twelve minutes left until the new year baby, can you cum, before then?” the red head coos you softly, but you don’t have the chance to respond, for bakugou latches right onto your pussy again, tongue thrusting in and out of your fluttering hole and sliding over your puffy clit.

kirishima hums against your neck while you choke and heave, his lips dancing across the base to add lovebites much harsher than your other lover between your shaky legs. your body calls for release as you tangle your fingers in a forest of blonde, causing your boyfriend to groan and hook his arms around your thighs— sucking, biting and ravishing your poor little entrance at an animalistic pace.

you jerk as the same feeling from earlier begins to unwind in your tummy, hips rolling violently against katsuki’s face. “gonna, mmmph....gonna—“

“what baby? what are you gonna do? be a good girl and tell daddy so he can help you...” eijirou coaxes the whines out of you, nosing up your bruised and bitten skin to trace over your wide parted lips. his own hand moves to join yours in your boyfriend’s hair, pushing his head further into your embarrassingly desperate cunt— lewd and wet sounds filling the air while katsuki growls at the slightly painful feeling.

“cum! gonna cum!” stars start to appear behind your eyes, splashes of colour dancing along your vision much like the people outside your room as you squeal and the knot in your stomach finally unravels with your release. the more explosive one out of your pair of lovers gulps down every drop of your sweet, honeyed release as the after shocks of your orgasm dash through your veins.

you watch with hooded eyes as bakugou leans up from between your slick thighs to share the taste of you in a kiss with kirishima, their tongues slide together in the filthy exchange, riling one another up while their hands slip under their shirts that have suddenly become to tight. stripping the offending garments, both of your boys return to you in your blissed out state, eyes wide with a carnal desire to take you again. “you did so well, naughty little thing,” bakugou hums, voice raspy as he pulls you into his chest. his caramel skin is almost too hot to the touch but it’s all you can focus on while you lose the feeling of eijirou to your left. the sound of a belt clinking further off is faint, but you pay it no heed as the blonde before you lays back with you on top of him. “‘gonna give you our cocks now, ‘kay princess? gonna cum on our cocks while we fuck you into next year...”

suddenly, you become hyper aware of the cockhead that presses against your creamy clit and gently push your hips back against it, just to hear katsuki groan. his large and worn palms settle on your waist as he grinds back to meet your sticky pussy— the feeling making both your mouths fall open in low groans. “gimme your cocks, please,” is all you can say, mind far to hazy to form a proper sentence containing any word other than please. “want it now, can’t wait,” you can barely finish your sentence, too needy to think as you press your lips against bakugou’s for the first time that night, shivering at the taste of your release against his tongue. the kiss is sloppy, going nowhere in particular as you grind against each other and wait for kiri.

speaking of the red headed devil, he leans over the two of you, grabbing your jaw delicately to steal a kiss from you as his own length presses hotly against your backside. “can’t let you two have all the fun, can i?” your boyfriend chuckles breathlessly, slowly circling his hips into your ass, you have no idea how long the boys have been hard for but they waste no more time lifting your hips to align both of their thick cocks against your entrance.

bakugou soothes small circles into your lower back as the two of them press into you,  there’s a slight sting as your hole resists their intrusion— a burn that brings tears to your eyes with the attempt to double stuff you but you bite your lip and focus on the feeling of their leaking tips smearing precum along your velvet lined walls. a broken moan escapes you when they finally bottom out, thick and length girths buried balls deep inside of your throbbing heat and trapping them in.

you pulse around them as the boys wait for you to adjust, their hot breath tickling at your ears and neck. “yn,” katsuki groans, fidgeting beneath you while your nipples harden against his chest. “you’re s’fuckin tight, do we not fuck you enough? shit baby...”

“uhuh, need you ta move, ta fuck me open...please,” you slur, slumping between kirishima and bakugou— you can barely form words, mind too hazy at the thought of being so full of your boyfriends and their leaking, sloppy cocks. they love seeing you so useless between them, barley able to move except for the occasional jump in your hips to prompt them to move.

“so cute, let’s give the poor baby what she wants, yeah katsuki?”

nothing could prepare you for the sudden feeling of both your boyfriends’ thrusting into you at once. it’s a tight fit that has you jolting so far forward, bakugou has to grip your hips to keep you still while kirishima grunts into your neck, hushing his own means with every kiss he places against your skin. the red head places a weighted palm on the base of your spine, forcing your ass up into the air and setting the pace. your cunt spasms with the roughness, soaking their cocks in your honeyed nectar as they push into you, stretching your hole for all it’s worth.

the boys have had their way with you before, usually taking turns forcing their cocks down your throat and painting your tongue with the taste of salty cum or spreading your thighs wide and licking you clean— but the way they double stuff you has you losing your goddamn mind, bright red cockheads catching on every ridge of your gummy walls at every push and pull of their hips. the two aren’t doing any better than you, poor katsuki whimpers at the way you attempt to roll your hips back onto them— chest heaving as his own cock brushes against his lover’s inside of you.

the youngest of the two, eijirou can barely breathe, stuck on how your cunt flutters around them, sweaty chest moulding perfectly with your arched back and hands grabbing fistfuls of your cute fleshy ass. the room is filled with heavy pants and the scent kid your sex in he air, clear liquid seeping down from your twitching pussy onto your thighs and splashing against heir pelvises. “what a sticky fuckin’ mess, huh princess?” the ash blonde somehow manages to mock you, his hazy blood red eyes dancing with amusement as your own well up with tears and your mouth hangs open in a needy wail when when kirishima manages to plough directly into your gummy sweet spot. katsuki weakly grabs hold of your cheeks, and like earlier, forces them together while your babble nonsense about how good it feels. he taps your cheeks a few times, almost as if he’s trying to rouse you from your fucked out state and smirks with pride when all you can do is cry some more. “oh shit, ei, we’ve fucked her dumb.”

his evil laugh rings out into the electric air, mingling with the grunts of your red headed lover and the should of skin slapping on skin. it’s so wet, so dirty and you should feel nasty for how their cocks cream warmly inside of you. the hand that rests of your back ( also belonging to ejirou ) slides up to the back of your neck, tugging you upwards while he chokes you out. “yeah baby? you turning into our dumb, brainless little bitch on new years? how pathetic.” the red haired boy utters hoarsely into your ear, nipping at it with sharpened teeth. the sudden gushing from your iron hot walls gives away how you feel about his degrading words, each one going straight to your core.

you find it in you to nod, arching your back and shivering when your lovers laugh at you, demean you for how much of a stupid slut you’re being when sandwiched between them. “feel so full...want more, fuck me more eiji, harder katsu...” you trip over each of your breathless words, falling into a throaty groan that comes from deep with. you want more, need more— and they give it to you. pumping into you at an eleven faster pace than before, the clapping of balls against your ass and count filling  your ears while the lively music begins to pump outside. ten boys live for his, taking you at a moment where anyone could walk in and see you stretched over their dribbling girths, the thrill drives them insane, drives you to sinful pleasures from worlds away.

“that’s our dumb little bitch, beg for more.” katsuki growls proudly, hand dropping between your entangled bodies to draw searing patterns into your clit— you’d scowl at him for activating his quirk every time his digits sparked over the puffy nub, but you were too far gone to care.

“keep rubbin one out on her bakugou— she clenches down so fucking hard when you do that.” kirishima sighs, hips beginning to stutter.

even the boys are joining you on cloud nine, eijirou tilting your head to get a good look at your face while you bounce back on their hardened lengths. bakugou and kirishima groan in unison at the sight of your lewd expression, eyes rolling back, tongue lolling out of your mouth while drool and tears smear across your mascara stained cheeks. what a fucking mess you are, body flushed and skirt stained, what a fucking mess they’ve made you— a weak and pathetic baby girl who shivers and writes each time a fat cock brushes up against your g-spot. broken laments slip from between your bruised lips as the two of your lovers angle their hips just right, prodding your pleasure spot over and over— and when both boys sneak hands down to press on your tummy bulge, you almost see stars.

your nails dig deeply into the pecks of the blonde beneath you, heart jumping as he lets out a broken howl of pleasure mixed with pain. the faint sound of a count down slips in from behind the closed door and you feel as if it’s a clock ticking towards your organs. desire flares up inside of you as you push and grind against your lover’s to chase your own release. “i’m so close, so so close... gonna cum, don’t stop. please don’t stop!” you chant, screwing your eyes shut while the boys give it their all.

three. the crowd cheers from outside.

“you cum when we say so, you cum on these fat cocks, okay honey? that’s right, that’s fucking right...” bakugou snarls, his own eyes crossing with the immense pleasure he feels from your welcoming heat. you nod feverishly and seek out his hand to hold.

two. drunken shouts spill into the halls, excitement crackling in the air.

their hips stutter, kirshima barley holding on as he works all three of you towards that final hurdle, kissing your cheek softly. “oh shit baby, the way you’re clamping around us...god, you’re gonna make me lose it. you can do it, you can cum for us...”

one. happy new year!

“holy fucking shit!”

“oh, fuck...yeah, yeah...”

colours, like fireworks, burst behind your eyes in flashes as the ecstasy that’s built up within you is finally released. your juices splash against the hips of bakugou and the pelvis of kirishima, painting them with your sweetness and making their skin shine under the yellow artificial light. they follow not long after as you tremble between their bodies; two loads of thick, hot cum spray your insides and cost it white— the potent milky liquid reaching as far as your womb, yet most of it leaking out of your velvet walls.

eijirou collapses to your side on the soiled sheets, watching with awe as a mix of all of your arousals seep out of your abused hole. you squirm in the elder’s  grasp as the red head’s fingers delicately scoop up some of the sticky mess and bring it to his mouth. a satisfied hum leaves his lips as he sucks bus own digits clean, blinking at both you and katsuki sleepily. “happy new year, guys, i love you.”

“yeah yeah, love you both too,” bakugou rolls his eyes but holds an arm out for the younger male to roll into, hugging you both to the blonde’s chest. despite his his gruff and harsh voice, you can still see the traces of adoration on his face. he loves you both so much and wouldn’t dare change this night for the world. “happy new year, ya horny little bastards.”

completely blissed out and too tired to scold him for sounding so mean, however, you lean forward and press a soft kiss to the younger’s nose before sneaking one to the grump in which you lie on. “i love you guys so much, you nasty boys.”

the three of stay curled up for a while after that, as the party outside bursts with hopefulness for the new year. it seems as though you’re all going to fall asleep when the door bursts open to reveal a certain tipsy group of friends.

“so this is what you guys were doing instead of celebrating the countdown with us,”  mina chimes, hanging off of sero’s back as she peeks her head through the doorway. you squeal and make a dive for the blankets, hiding your naked body from the view of your lovers’ prying friends.

bakugou’s roommate huffs triumphantly while izuku, todoroki and momo fail to hold back their laughter. “told you she was gonna get laid.”

kirishima flushes red as his hair and makes an attempt to join you in hiding under the sheets while your explosive boyfriend jumps out of the bed in full naked glory, activating his quirk to threaten his friends. “i’m gonna count to three, and all of you better start fucking running before i kick your asses for bursting in on us.”

“but i thought we already had a countdown...y’know for the new year,”denki dumbly comments. “don’t be silly baku bro!” but he doesn’t have much time to dwell on his thought for your angry boyfriend is already chasing him down the hall, explosions sparking at his sides.

it’s the first day of the new year and denki kaminari is already going to die at the hands of abutt naked katsuki bakugou.

happy fucking new year indeed.

[jinxiann]

Late Nights | Jinx x GN!Reader

Summary: A late night visitor interrupts your work, for better or for worse.

A/N: wowwwwie, this fic is kind of a mess bc i haven't written in months but arcane has inspired me to take it on again!! sorry about the quality, i'll get used to the flow again soon i swear. i created a new sideblog just for this - feel free to make requests and i'll get to organizing the blog soon.

WC: 1k

An old lamp casts a strong light onto your workbench, allowing you to spot the minute differences between the intricate pieces that lay before you. You try to steady your breathing as you hold two minuscule parts that are supposed to interlock and form a joint. If you could just reduce the shaking of your hands and be delicate enough the parts should join easily enough, but your body lacks sleep and refuses to listen to your already muddled mind.

As you continue to work on your project, your focus is suddenly disrupted by the sound of your door chimes going off. With a sigh you yell out, "We're closed for today. Come back tomorrow". Much to your disappointment, the patron doesn't leave. As the sound of footsteps and a swaying belt near you however, you realize that it isn't just any old customer coming in.

"Why's there no music? Can you seriously focus in the quiet like this?" Jinx complains as she approaches your left, taking a seat on the edge of your workbench.

"Stereo broke." You state tiredly. You tilt your head to the counter where it sits. "It's probably something simple, haven't been able to look at it though. I have a huge backlog of orders."

"Hm." She hums in response. From the corner of your vision you see her get off your workbench and walk over to the counter. You hear rustling from behind you as Jinx rummages through all your drawers and boxes. She eventually sits besides you again, taking a crack at your stereo. You allow yourself a quick glance at her. Secretly, you enjoy the way she bites her lip in focus, the way her eyes glimmer at the problem in front of her, and the expressiveness of her eyebrows.

Your gaze doesn't linger for long though, and you quickly force yourself to work again. You're used to this scenario already. For the past year Jinx would always appear at random times in your shop. Sometimes you two would talk, other times, like now, you'd spare no words. You quite like how easy it is to exist next to her. Something about her allowed you to perform better, and soon enough you realized you had completed the entire order for your customer.

You set the stuff down and inch away from the bench. Now your focus shifted to the infamous personality sitting next to you. When the two of you first met, you didn't know who she was. All you knew was that a gun was pointed at you and the person holding it was in desperate need for some rare parts.

Thankfully that night did not end in a robbing. Apparently your personal projects behind the counter had caught the woman's attention and spurred her to rush and inspect your work. The two of you garnered mutual respect for each others' inventiveness as discussion ensued. You also came to learn that she was indeed the infamous Jinx, yet you could hardly see the negatives that she was supposed to tout. The only thing you see, and the thing you love appreciate about her the most is her mind. Her eccentrics do not scare you, but rather freshen your perspective, and perspective is always important for an inventor.

Someone like her is absolutely magnetizing for you.

You're quickly pulled out of your thoughts as you hear your favorite song begin to play. You look over to see Jinx with a wide grin and a fully functioning radio beside her.

"Who's the best?" She asks as she jumps up, arms wide and thumbs pointing to herself. You chuckle and decide to not answer her question. With her loud gesture you remember that you have something for her.

"Oh, I finished this for you by the way." You roll the chair you've been sitting on to a cabinet and pull out a fake shark head. Jinx looks excited as you throw it her way.

"Owah!!! He's perfect. I can't wait to put him on, then the launcher will be complete!" She hugs the metal piece tightly, cradling it like a baby.

"That's what you came for right? Sorry for keeping you." You laugh at your own thoughtlessness. "I should've gave it to you earlier. Thanks for the stereo, by the way."

"Psh, just think of it as payment for the fish head. Fishhead? Should I name him that? No, wait, how about Fishbones?" Her face contorts as she seriously ponders her name choice. You smirk as you see her feet bounce from the focus.

"Well," you begin to say, but your tongue suddenly hangs loose.

You know you should send her off since she's gotten what she wanted, but a part of you wants her to stay. You want to talk more. Talk about everything and nothing, anything to give you a better understanding of her. You wish you could hold her voice in your mind forever. No, you don't even have to talk more. Just being by her is enough to energize you. Or maybe you can stare. Stare a bit more longingly. You want to learn how to appreciate the freckles on her face and the blue of her eyes.

But how are you supposed to say that?

"Well?" Jinx asks confused. It seems that you've held onto your words for too long. You close your open mouth, still mulling over your words. Jinx has never been a patient person though, and she breaks the distance between you and her. "Are you gonna tell me what you're thinking 'bout?"

"Ehhh..." You grimace as her face nears you. She's so close that your noses almost touch, and you're fighting against your desire to look at her pouty lips. "I don't think so." Shit. You looked at her lips.

"Well, I'll tell you what I'm thinking." Jinx suddenly has a shit-eating grin on her face, eyebrows raising as if she understands your mind. Her voice lowers as she moves towards your ear. "I'm thinking you're kinda cute, toots."

Your breath escapes your body as you feel the warm press of her lips against your cheek. Before you can even gather your thoughts she's at the door. "I expect repayment for that!" She yells with her back towards you and a gives noncommittal wave.

As the door closes you spin aimlessly in your chair. Stunned, you wondered how you're supposed to focus on the rest of your orders. And as you made way towards a hand mirror, you wondered if her lipstick stayed.

[niqhtlord01]

Humans are weird: Fears/Phobias

Alien: Do you want to come in for a swim in the deep end? Human:  I’ll pass. Alien: Why do you never want to swim in the deep end? Human: Because if I can’t see the bottom I think a shark is going to come up and eat me. Alien: ………………… Alien: What? -------------------------------------------

Alien: I’m confused. Alien: Why do you never want to drive on this “Highway” you speak of? Alien: We are making great time on it. Human: Wait for it…. *Several minutes pass with fast paced cars switching lanes rapidly with barely any warnings while people speaking into communication devices swerve left and right like drunk teenagers* Alien: *Pulls off highway first chance they get* -------------------------------------------

*Alien and human enter elevator* Alien: I think you’ll love the restaurant at the top, it serves amazing crustaceans! Human: I love some good fish food. *Elevator doors close* Alien: And the best part is the elevator goes in and out of the building as it rises. Human: Wait what!? *Elevator exits insides of the building and now are attached on the outside overlooking the entire city as the ground rapidly descends away* *Human moves into corner and closes eyes shut* Alien: What are you doing? Human: Waiting for either death or the doors to open. ------------------------------------------

*Human and alien board an airplane* Alien: *Notices the human grabbing their hands rather tightly* Alien: Does that not hurt? Human: Very much. Alien: Then why do it? Human: Because focusing on the pain leaves me little time to focus on the fear of flying. -----------------------------------------

Alien: *Comes back home after leaving human wife for an hour* Alien: *Notices all the lights and picture units are on* Alien: Honey? Human: *Opens door to bedroom and comes running out to hug alien* Human: Don’t ever leave me alone again! Alien: I was only gone for an hour. Human: It was an eternity for me!!!! -----------------------------------------

Human: Is it me or is this room getting smaller? Alien: No, I am quite sure this room’s dimensions are not changing. Human: Feels like it’s getting smaller, and hotter. Human: Don’t you feel hotter? Alien: *pulls out science device and scans himself* Alien: No, my internal temperature is still the same. Human: Getting a bit harder to breathe now. *Grabs hold of nearby table to stabilize.* Alien: I would not know as I do not need to breathe human oxygen. Human: I feel like I’m blacking out. Alien: It is my understanding that coloring of one’s skin is offensive on your planet and would recommend against it. Human: Fucking…hate…..literal….assholes. *blacks out* --------------------------------------------------

Human: I don’t want to go outside today. Alien: Why? Human: It’s raining. Alien: So? Human: Rain makes me uncomfortable. Alien: Why? Human: You mean between it being the herald of potential thunder storms that shoot bolts of pure energy out of the ground or the potential of having the house flood and kill me? Alien: you’re right, let’s just stay in. ------------------------------------------------------

Alien: If you hate talking to strangers why do you insist on meeting in crowded spaces? Human: Because I’m afraid of being alone even more. -----------------------------------------------------

Alien: You’re afraid of purple? Alien: Really? Human: Like I’m going to take shit from the guy who’s afraid of seagulls. Alien: They swoop down so quickly and steal your food….. ----------------------------------------------------

Alien: How could anyone be afraid of clocks? Human: It’s not the clock itself they are afraid of, but the passage of time. Human: The monumental realization that every second passing will never be repeated and that with each day you grow closer to your eventual demise. Alien: That is rather deep for your species. Human: Also the clicking sounds they make sound like a time bomb about to go off. Alien: And we’re back. ------------------------------------------------------

Alien: I can’t believe you found this place on the beach for so little. Human: It was odd that it’d be under a hundred a night. Human: I wonder what made them- *Opens the door to the home and sees every wall lined with Victorian dolls* Human: We’re going to a motel. Alien: But we just got- Human: MOTEL! NOW! ------------------------------------------------------

Alien: Why do you call your family so often? Human: To make sure they are okay. Alien: Why wouldn’t they? Human: I wouldn’t know unless I called them. ------------------------------------------------------

Alien: *Sees human friend sitting on bench looking at water and walks over* Alien: You look deep in thought. Human: Could say that. Alien: What’s on your mind? Human: I’m wondering what my future kids would think of me. Alien: That’s some long term thinking. Human: Will look back over my life and think negatively of me? Alien: *Sits down next to friend* Alien: We both know you’ll never have kids so does it really matter? Human: Why are we friends again?

[drewstarkeys]

"Paper" Rings : Toni Shalifoe

Summary: Very loosely based around Paper Rings from Miss Taylor Swift! In which the reader and Toni have feelings for each other but are too afraid and too oblivious to truly admit them to each other. It gets pretty fluffy at the end!!

Word Count: 2.2K

Request(s): “Hi! Can I request Toni (the wilds) crushing on a dense reader when they are stuck on the island? 👉🏼👈🏼” and “Can I request some the wilds/toni fluff? Im fine with anything as long as it ends somewhat happily,.....”

Warnings: mentions of edibles, drunk reader/girls/Toni.

A/N: I finally got out of writer’s block so I am back! I also tried to combine two requests as I thought they went together nicely! Hope you all enjoy :)

The moon is high.

Like your friends were the night that we first met

You didn’t know it yet but that day on the island when you and the rest of the girls got high off of edibles, Toni realized just how much she liked you. Maybe it was the way your smile only seemed to grow bigger as the day went on, or maybe it was the way you couldn’t help but say the worst possible pick up lines to Toni, but something you were doing that day had her whipped. She hated it and loved it at the same time because she was so scared of how you would react to her strong feelings towards you.

The two of you were a “thing” but the term was loosely used in replacement of girlfriends. It was hard to decide exactly what you two should be when survival wasn’t even promised. On the other hand, if it was promised, what would happen when you went back to your ordinary lives? Would you forget each other and slowly go back to your old regular lives or would you try and make the distance work. Those questions had been left unanswered, which tormented the both of you.

Some of the other girls on the island had tried to trap you into confessing just how much Toni meant to you or vice versa, but you and Toni knew better, you were on an island and admitting your strong feelings would only complicate whatever was going on between the two of you. The nights spent alone in different corners of the island and empty promises shared between the two of you were nice, but it was more wishful thinking than anything realistic for the time being. That didn’t stop the two of you allowing yourselves to get close and let down your walls, even sharing your deepest secrets and fears with each other- something that almost seemed easier if you two never saw each other again.

You knew the way she felt like she was too hard to love and that she thought that her anger scared everyone away, but you didn’t agree with her. Maybe it was your own temper, which wasn’t nearly as bad as hers, but you weren’t worried by it. You had told her that you didn’t care that she got out of control, citing your reasons as being that control was difficult for everyone and you would be a hypocrite to judge her control issues when you knew how hard control was.

She knew about how you worried about running from your feelings again and completely shutting everyone out. You had done it more than once and in the back of your mind, you were convinced you would do it again. It was your defense mechanism to keep yourself from getting hurt- but it negatively affected those around you- which you couldn’t bear to hate yourself for. She told you that she wouldn’t let you leave her, that she was too stubborn to let you leave her, especially if the two of you were stuck on the island for however long. It provided you comfort for the time being, but just like her fears, yours weren’t fully dissipated either.

The wine is cold

Like the shoulder that I gave you in the street

Cat and mouse for a month or two or three

Now I wake up in the night and watch you breathe

That’s just how the two of you worked- you would have deep conversations in the woods of the island and hold onto each other when the woods got cold as the sun went down, but that was the most of it. Neither of you could deny that something was going on between you two, but you couldn’t quite bring yourselves to admit your real feelings for the other one. It was embarrassing almost, the high school type cat and mouse game in which you both chased the other one but would never fully give in- it felt like every shitty romcom ever- well maybe without the happy ending.

That cat and mouse game continued for the following weeks of you all being on the island, which frustrated the others to no end. They could see the way you two looked at the other one when they weren’t looking and they could see the kisses in the woods that you thought you were being secretive about. Fortunately for them, and the two of you, the girls had devised a plan to further the relationship between you and Toni. A plan that only needed one thing, copious amounts of alcohol.

Thankfully for them, you were already pouring alcohol into your mouth by the time the sun set. All it took for your actions was a simple suggestion from Martha, she had asked you to get drunk with her and a few of the other girls and you had eagerly agreed, excited to finally have a reason to let loose on the island. The liquid stung the back of your throat as you shared the bottle with Martha and Fatin, but you could care less- you didn’t need chasers in school so why would you need them now?

Despite your lack of need for a chaser, your tolerance was embarrassingly low- or perhaps you just always drank too much. Unfortunately for you, that led to you sitting next to Toni and offering her a drink from the bottle in your hand, insisting that she wasn’t nearly as drunk as you were, in Toni’s defense, no one was as drunk as you were. However, your puppy eyes were too good for Toni to say no to, so of course, she was drinking to get caught up to your level, hoping it would help her relax just as much as you were.

The night carried on quickly with different dance battles, a little bit of night swimming- to which Dot had freaked over the idea of you or Shelby getting eaten by a shark, and even sand castle competitions. All of these ideas came from you who happened to be letting every single idea slip past your lips with a lack of any filter at all.

You suddenly jumped up off of the sand you had been resting on and looked around the group, a big smile covering your face, “I need to pee!” You announced, earning  a few giggles from the girls that had ended up nearly as drunk as you were. You then looked down to Toni, pulling at her hand to get her to stand up with you, “and you’re going to come with me!” You added, not noticing the way Toni gulped nervously or the way the other girls seemed to be watching the two of you as if you were their favorite movie. Instead of responding, Toni just nodded, an uneasy smile on her face as you dragged her towards a darker corner of the island.

You walked a few feet in front of Toni, painfully oblivious to the way she seemed to be deep in thought. Toni was busy trying to keep her lips sealed tight despite the alcohol in her body begging them to part and let out her feelings for you. Her speech she had practiced a few days ago was dangerously close to falling out past her lips and thus, she would reveal how she felt. The one problem was that she didn't want to say it drunk, especially when she didn’t know how you felt. Despite your relationship between the two of you, Toni couldn’t help but think about how you called yourself a player, telling Toni how you wished you weren’t one- but you just couldn’t quite seem to keep feelings for anyone.

Toni was so deep in thought that she hadn’t realized when you stopped moving to stare at her. “I don’t have to pee,” you suddenly mumbled, catching Toni’s attention with your words. Her eyes crinkled in confusion but you just smiled in response, “I just wanted to spend time with you alone. “ You admitted, something you wouldn’t have said so easily if you had been sober.

I like shiny things, but I'd marry you with paper rings

You could almost see the slight blush on Toni’s face in the dark, a mix of alcohol and you creating that reaction on her face. “You did?” She asked, her voice coming out a lot weaker than she intended for. She hated how weak you made her, like she could be ruined by the wrong set of words coming from your mouth.

You nodded your head quickly and pulled her down onto a rock, “sit here. I wanted to show you something.” You mumbled, holding onto her shoulders as you spoke to her, your glassy eyes meeting her own. While your nerves were completely gone, Toni’s heart was still racing, something you had yet to notice.

You walked, or skipped, off towards a bush, not caring about anything except for your current plan for what you were going to do. It was honestly quite bold but you couldn’t stop thinking about it and if you didn’t do it, you would be upset with yourself. So, without a second thought, you plucked a long piece of grass from the ground and brought it back to her, nearly letting out a laugh at how confused she looked.

Before she could question what you were doing, you spoke up, “wait, don’t say anything just yet. I need to say something.” You said, watching her for her agreement before you carried on. “You know that Taylor Swift song that is like ‘I like shiny things but I’d marry you with paper rings’? Well I was thinking about that song and you make me feel like that. Like not marriage obviously, I’m not even eighteen yet, but like we’re here. On an island. And despite all the scary things and bad ideas- you’re the only thing that matters. Like I could care less about if we never get off this island, I’m just happy I met you.” You rambled, nerves and alcohol leading to the slurred and messy speech you had just told to her. “I like you, Toni, a lot.” You paused, looking down at the piece of grass in your hands, “I guess this is like, I don’t know, a promise almost? That I actually like you and that I’m not gonna run away from my feelings anymore.”

You paused, your heart rate finally becoming noticeable to yourself and you suddenly felt insanely sober from your actions. You felt as if you had just let her break down all of your walls and you were quite frankly terrified of how she would react. “Can I stand up now?” She asked, a smile on her face, which drove you crazy.

“That’s it? I say all that and you ask if you can stand up?” You asked, not even knowing how to feel, you hadn’t even noticed your arms were flailing as you questioned her until she grabbed both of your wrists and pulled them down, using them to pull you a little bit closer to her.

She still hadn’t said anything yet but the two of you were inches apart and you wanted to throw up. Or maybe it was just a feeling of panic settling in your chest, what if you had gone too far with what you said? You had been known to jump into feelings too quickly but you felt as if she could be there too.

Before you could speak up again and question her once more, she let go of one of your wrists and planted her hand softly on the side of your face, her eyes scanning your own before she leaned in and gently pressed her lips to yours. The two of you had kissed before but this was different, you were finally allowed to feel everything you were feeling, you could finally show her how much you liked her. Your free wrist dropped to her waist as you pulled her closer, not letting her pull away just yet. The two of you stayed like that for a second, just taking each other in and enjoying the moment of peace.

She pulled away with a soft smile on her face and a mysterious glint in her eyes as she backed off and went over to the spot where you had once been. You could see her pick up her own piece of grass and walk back over to you and smiled again, “then I promise to actually stop worrying and just let myself like you. Because I do like you,” she paused, “like I like you a lot.” And with that, she took the piece of grass and tied it around your ring finger, “so instead of getting married with paper rings, we’re uh- dating? With grassy rings.” She said, finishing the knot around your finger and looked up to you expectantly, “well if you want.”

You grabbed her other hand and worked on tying the grass around her finger, looking back at her and nodding, “yeah, I’d like that.” You answered, feeling heat rush to your cheeks at how intimate the moment had become.

[yandere-wishes]

𝕊𝕖𝕝𝕗-𝕃𝕠𝕒𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕟𝕘 🐚Yandere! leviathan X Reader🐚

I’m trying out a new writing style, so please let me know what you think! This story is rather abstract and switches a bit between reader POV and Leviathan’s POV.

WARNINGS: VERY DARK, suicidal themes, self harm, mild gore, verbal abuse, self-hatred, objectification and cursing.

🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚

ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ'ꜱ ᴀɴ ᴏʟᴅ ꜱᴀʏɪɴɢ, ᴀɴ ᴏʟᴅ ʜᴜᴍᴀɴ ꜱᴀʏɪɴɢ: "ᴏᴘᴘᴏꜱɪᴛᴇꜱ ᴀᴛᴛʀᴀᴄᴛ ᴀɴᴅ ꜱɪᴍɪʟᴀʀ ʀᴇᴘᴇʟꜱ". ʙᴜᴛ ꜱɪɴᴄᴇ ᴡʜᴇɴ ʜᴀꜱ ᴀɴʏ ʟᴏɢɪᴄ ꜰʀᴏᴍ ᴛʜᴇ ʜᴜᴍᴀɴ ʀᴇᴀʟᴍ ᴇᴠᴇʀ ᴛʀᴇꜱᴘᴀꜱꜱᴇᴅ ɪɴᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ᴅᴇᴠɪʟᴅᴏᴍ?

The two of you were the same, cut from the exact same depressing, aversion cloth. 

The two of you were mangled disjointed creatures with lanky brittle bones made up of self-loathing and mismatched hatred. Broken from displaced frustration and indecent, vulgar tendencies, that no one could snuff out of either of you. 

Instead of guts and intestines both you, the lowly human, and him, the feared sea serpent, had long strings of pity that coiled inside your stomachs.

Eyes as green as the ripest emerald blinded by endless, unchecked envy towards all things that so much as breathed.

Rotting pink brains filled with nothing but depressive thoughts and screeching banshee-like voices that never seem to cease. 

Yes, you and Leviathan were the exact same thing...

There's a certain aroma that floats and flocks around a person with such low regard for themselves. Where ever you walked a thick suffocating cloud of despair followed like a lost limping mutt. Pure unaltered self-disgust rolls off you like waves in the middle of a storm.

This is one of the things Leviathan loves about you, the intoxicating saddening aura that you wear like the finest perfumes. Although if caught like a deer in headlights, the sea serpent would just lie through his shark-like teeth and make some remarks about your pretty smile or shiny eyes. 

Truth is, he HATES when you smile. Hated when hope and joy and all things bright and good twinkle in your eyes like the flicker of a newborn star. 

Oh no, you're all so much prettier when you frown, when you look like your lust for life is all died out. When your eyes twinkle with that sort of sweet despair like all your hope has gotten engulfed by a black hole. 

🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊

There's something wrong with you. You don't know what, but it's there, you can feel it everywhere you go. 

Maybe it's the repulsive way your skin is stretched so suffocatingly thin across your bones. Or maybe it's the way you pick at your open scars, digging deeper and deeper past blazing red tissue until it starts to bleed again. 

Whatever it is you aren't sure, but something is most definitely wrong with you. 

maybe that's why, on a particularly bad, paranoid day, you finally decide to just end it. 

Although it's never that simple is it?

There's something no one ever tells you about the cessation of life. A mysterious negative hour that happens just as the last atom of oxygen is departing from your lungs. A negative one, a negative two, and if you get expressly unlucky than also a negative three. This is usually when you start to wonder if you did it right, if the rope is too loose or hung too low. The dam of reality breaks and all uncertainty pours through with no real regard for what it's destroying. Are you're really still alive? Or is this some post-mortem induced dream? Everything makes about as much sense as when you were alive, only now it's foggy and ambiguous and all so distant like a far off dream...

It's also the time when every good memory comes rushing back, spilling carelessly akin to the blood gushing from the vain you slashed a month ago. You're dying far too slowly and all too semi-lucidly.

This is far from how you thought your escape plan would go.

The plan shatters even more when you actually open your eyes again and realize that you're no longer dangling from the ceiling. Instead, you're wrapped in some sort of lukewarm blanket, trapped between glacial white walls that bite at your fingers why you try to push them away.

And staring down at you with a sort of raw envy that your human mind couldn't fabricate, was non other than the third born himself.

Up to this day you still don't know who saved you, the seven brothers treat the whole ordeal like Pandora's box, tucking it under volts of diamond and throwing the key into the abyss. As long as it stays out of sight, out of tongue's reach and ears range then it'll surely be out of mind. Everything will be just fine so long as lord Diavolo doesn't hear what happened to the precious little human. Everything is just fine if everyone ignores it.

Personally, you don't mind the outcome. You're restrained to Levi's room, being under his watch and alleged "care" for all hours of the day. It's to keep you safe Lucifer assures, although your own guilt likes to twist the words into something more like, "It's to get rid of a nuisance".

Either which way life starts to escalate just a tiny bit.

Funny how even self-loathing and inner hatred seem to fade away when there's someone to share the pain with.

Soon it's no longer "I wish I could die" or "why can't I just be God damn good enough!"

but rather "We seriously should split a suicide built" and "Wouldn't it be fun if we both dive off a cliff head first into lava?"

With someone just as aggravated and self-destructive as yourself, things start to look up...that is until you do the unforgivable, at least so it's written in Levi's demented book. 

You step too far, you start to ask things, start to pry into things that shouldn't matter to you.

And then you do it, the worst of the worst, you smile...

Straight after asking him such a revolting sincere question

"What do you think about life?" 

It's meant to be rhetorical, you TRY to make it sound rhetorical. But any social norms or form of sarcasm goes over Levi's head like the basketballs he's never able to catch. His attention snaps to you, like a snake being alerted that a predator is a near...or prey, again it's really impossible to tell.

 His neck cranes at an odd angle as his tail curls inwards. For a split millisecond, you can swear on your almost grave that you see his tongue dart out before zipping back into his toothy mouth. Predator, he definitely sees you as a predator.

"Baby, not much...I-i want to die"

Time doesn't stop, not even when all understanding and logic have tipped their hats at the door and disappeared into the great beyond. Leviathan's slit eyes stare at you, behind all the pain and broken anger, for just an instant you think you see the fragments of understanding shine, brighter than the never setting moon. 

He's just like you, 

You're just like him,

That's when the trouble creeps over. The corners of your mouth take a turn upwards and push your cheeks back, making way for a grin. It's faint and ghostly at best...up it's there.

It just has to be there....

That godforsaken satisfied smile. 

When you're attention flicker's to Levi again you notice his arm pulling back, throwing the controller across the room with anger worst than anything Satan could summon upon his worst day. 

"Don't fucking do that!"

You're stoned in place, eyes too scared to move from the sea snake, what went wrong? Why does something always go wrong?

"D-do what..?" 

It's not your fault that you're voice shakes and breaks, not your fault that the room starts to spiral out of control. It's his fault, all his fault...but is anything ever really his fault?

"Don't look happy! Or hopeful! You look so freaking ugly when you smile!"

His voice is shockingly low, like a mother trying to get her child to settle down after a tantrum. He's borderline cooing at you to "act" properly again. Never the less the venom and disgust are steel audible, glittering like a silver lining.

For once though it's not worth it to stop smiling, all the screams and yells and depravities of the world can't erase this smile from your face.

"Six thousand-year-old demon and you actually dream of death rather than eternal hell on earth or torturing the damned? You really are a broken one Leviathan."

The blue-haired sea monster just shrugs in reply before slithering closer, wrapping his slender bony arms around your waist, they feel like Thamnophis coiling around your midsection, sinking into your flesh. His heavy head falls onto your lap, you can practically hear all the outcries of jealousy and cries of purified agony. 

"What can I say...we're both two disgusting broken things that have no right to live or any claim to happiness...but well, fuck happiness who needs it...right?

Yeah, who needs a thing that only creeps into the heart under perfect circumstances and that floats away at the drop of a feather, who needs happiness and joy, when the two of you can forevermore rot in your own envy and depression....together.

Always together

Rotting forever.

"Right...screw happiness and all it's stupid worth."

🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊

[thosewickedlovelies]

we could be Dreamers - Prologue

Pairing: Marcus Moreno x GN!Reader

Rating: T

Summary: How this world came to be

Word count: 1,671

A/N: Hiii friends 🤗 soo there’s not really a lot of plot or Marcus Moreno :( here, but consider this a prologue/worldbuilding for a Marcus Moreno x reader fic I may eventually write lol. I’m really interested in how this universe got from The Adventures of Sharkboy and Lavagirl to We Can Be Heroes, because like. Sharkboy and Lavagirl were literally just some kid’s imaginary friends that somehow magically became real, so what does that mean for the other Heroics? Where did they come from?? So I kinda wanted to write something that would make you Think :) and explore the ramifications of such a transformed universe.

Consider my previous Marcus Moreno fic a prelude to this prologue 💗

--

It was a little unnerving sometimes, being in a room with so much power. No matter that this particular training arena at Heroics Headquarters was at least the size of an American football field- when all of the Heroics are gathered in the same confined space, focused on a single purpose, you can feel it. Like their power prances tauntingly in the corner of your eye, slipping away when you try to look directly at it. Like it winds through the air, worming its way into your veins, so your very blood breathes at you to run, run, run.

Not all of the individual Heroics gave off such uncanny vibes; some were simply ordinary people with extraordinary abilities. Techo-No, for instance, and his gift for creating fantastical gadgets. The implications of his works relevant to the world at large could be worrying, but he had limits. He was just a man. Determined, and creative (even more so with his son throwing ideas at him), but ultimately human.

Not like those with powers who’d been Dreamed.

Take Sharkboy. The temper for which he’d been infamous in his youth had cooled, but when he snapped, he did so literally- blade-sharp teeth an audible clash when he bared them in a ringing snarl. Any water in the room would roil and froth- but the most hair-raising sight was his eyes, tinged with the unreadable, abyssal blackness of his namesake. Focused with a predator’s calculation on the object of his fury. (It made you think that, ironically, his temper had cooled too much- concentrated into something as icy and merciless as the depths of the sea. Just as well his wife was a lava goddess).

It was well-documented that Sharkboy could influence his oceanic kin, seeing as he was half-shark himself. Some marine biologists postulated- in low voices- that fluctuation in his emotions could unknowingly influence shark activity no matter how far from the sea he was. But nobody at Heroics Headquarters had ever dared suggest attempting a study.

That you knew of, anyway. You wouldn’t be surprised if there was a classified government branch somewhere which dealt solely with more insidious studies of the Heroics. Their weaknesses. Ways to defeat them.

Just in case.

Sharkboy and his emotions had stabilized as his Dreamer matured, but not all Dreamers were so invested in the well-being of their creations, or of the world they inhabited and could inadvertently affect. It was suspected that not all Dreamers knew that they had Dreamed at all, that they unintentionally brought Dreams into being far from where they were located and simply never became aware. This resulted in some Dreamed individuals being...unstable. Incomplete, really. Brought forth from a child’s mind, a young person who didn’t yet fully grasp the complexities of existing in this world, or indeed, the intricacies of what made one human at all.

Dreamers were children, more often than not. Their imaginative abilities generally far outstripped those of adults, worn down as they were with the grind of building a real life. The younger the person, the more time and creativity they maintained. The fewer methods they possessed to process their struggles which were grounded in reality, and not their imaginations.

--

Despite the years that have passed, nobody quite knows what happened to lead up to the Incident. How a single young boy had imagined so powerfully that it had warped reality; how his imaginings had given him the ability to design the universe at will.

The Daydreamer.

Max, as he later insisted on being called. An almost disturbingly innocuous name for a boy who had changed the world. Who had all but envisioned himself into having terrific powers- and enabled others to do the same.

In the years following the Incident, Sharkboy and Lavagirl continued to visit him in secret (Later, scientists realized that this why they recorded occasional, inexplicable disturbances in seismic and marine activity). But it wasn’t long before a larger threat to the entire Earth appeared- and so did they. To defend the place which they declared to be their new home. Though they had been willed into existence to protect Planet Drool, as Max determined to relinquish his daydreaming abilities and by extension, his dreamworld, so did the planet and its life diminish. Their presence there was no longer required, they’d explained. But earth could still benefit from their protection- especially after the reality of the threat came to light.

Someone else had Dreamed.

It wasn’t clear who, or how, or what their intentions had been. But once it had been said, everyone was forced to acknowledge the truth of it- or at least, admit that there was no other explanation. The villain’s origins were not terrestrial in any previously established sense.

Anyone who had ever met a child could have a predicted it. Too many young people ended up feeling outcast, overlooked, by both their peers and adults in their lives. It should have been obvious from the way they whispered his name. Not Max- a moniker far too average and relatable- but what they reverently regarded as his true title. The Daydreamer. A near-holy figure who had changed the game for youths everywhere. Now they had a way to combat those who plagued them. A way to create or become the superheroes who previously only existed in comic books and TV shows.

Or some did, anyway. Individuals with the strength of will and heart to Dream weren’t rare, but they weren’t quite common, either.

The only truly neutral positive of the Dreamer evolution was that governments everywhere suddenly accepted the need for increased mental health resources. Designed to increase healthy socialization for all ages and give young people ways to process and communicate their emotional needs, such programs were approved seemingly overnight in schools from elementary to university aged. “Small town life” flourished, and many city quarters and apartment buildings took to implementing “community builders” or, less charmingly, “social facilitators”- positions designed to create cohesive areas of living and minimize the kind of isolation and negative feelings that could leave someone to Dream of improving their life.

--

Nowadays, not all super-powered individuals were Dreamed. The second generation of Heroics was a testament to that. As if the universe itself had reckoned with the self-inception of the Dreamers, and seen fit to provide reality-warping countermeasures of its own.

Less than a year after the Incident, babies with...unique qualities began to be born. Few and far between, it seemed at first. Whispered reports swept from far corners of the globe, a phone tree branching from frantic parents to anyone who could provide even the slightest bit of reassurance. It seemed like doctors everywhere were swapping glances, no one willing to admit what was happening- until a second Villain appeared.

Every incident report said the same thing: a baby started crying, and then the hostages were saved by a power outage. A wash of sparks that darkened half the city.

Webbed with red lightning.

You sneak a look at the fully grown Heroic now, the long braids of her ponytail slipping over the shoulder of her characteristic red training outfit. Red Lightning Fury flexes her fingers as she listens to the head trainer explain today’s exercise- the usual sort of ‘heroes versus villains’ battles, with you and your fellow specialists assisting as villains- but judging by the lack of the smell of ozone, she isn’t yet using her powers. Blinding Fast, on the other hand, appears to fritz in place every few seconds, and you guess he’s running invisible laps to pass the time. It’s hard to tell if that’s what’s causing Lavagirl’s hair to tendril like neon pink smoke even though she’s standing still; usually the hypnotic heat shimmer of her lava flow causes the effect naturally.

You stretch in place while team arrangements are announced. As the majority of the Heroics filter into the stands to wait for their match, the buzzing, writhing presence of their power fades, and you can breathe more easily.

A figure flickers into being beside you, and you jump. “Jeez, Visi! How many times have I told you not to do that?”

Having anticipated your reaction from the countless previous times she’s snuck up on you anyway, Invisigirl laughs. “You think you’d be used to it by now.” Your closest Heroic friend grins at you, all pearly teeth against smooth brown skin.

And she’s right, which is why you were so disgruntled. Having been caught unawares too many times by the invisible hero’s silent movements, you had once asked her to give you lessons. Her instruction had improved your own stealth immensely, and now that you knew what kind of signs to listen for, her attempts at startling you didn’t work nearly as often as they had. But- “It’s hard to focus on anything with all of your powers clogging up the air,” you grumble. The birthed heroes understood what you meant- they felt it too, the nagging hiss of something other in the Dreamed heroes’ energy.

Across the arena, it looks like Miracle Guy and Marcus Moreno are waiting to be your opponents. Interesting. Miracle Guy, with his Dreamed up Superman-like abilities, was the only one who had a way of seeing Invisigirl. What it was precisely, you couldn’t recall. You make a mental note to ask Visi later.

Marcus, however, telekinesis aside, is clearly meant to be the counter to your strengths. The two men are discussing intently, but as if feeling your assessing stare, Marcus glances over. He lifts his eyebrows at you in playful challenge, a hint of a smile quirking his shapely lips before he’s pursing them at his duel-mate again.

Suppressing the pleased flutter down your spine, you turn your attention to the task ahead as Invisigirl dips her head toward you. Planning something clever, you realize, intrigued by the glint in her eye. “Let’s talk strategy.”

When the starting bell rings, your partner vanishes, and your smile curves as sharp and gleaming as the blade in your hand.

[snowbird-down]

Prompt 27: Benthos (80′s AU)

Laelia skidded to a halt as she rounded the corner, emerging into the light once more. Fremont Street’s neon cacophony suckerpunched her in the face, and she was forced to cover her forehead until her vision adjusted. The foot traffic didn’t even spare her a glance; there were far stranger things than a frantic three-eye in Vegas, and besides -- there were drinks to drink, tits to grope, and games to lose.

Dumbasses, she thought, watching them laugh and stagger away.

The crowds ebbed and flowed, voices drowned under blaring music. Madonna was playing again. It was always Madonna on Fremont. Laelia shook her head. Fucking forget Madonna, that wasn’t why she was here.

It was turning dark on the far end of the street, down past the Corral.

She knew they couldn’t notice it. Nor would anyone really notice the way the world tinted neon whenever the Void was bleeding over  – not here, on the fucking Strip. But to Laelia’s vision there was a distinct difference between the default tack on the sidewalks and the sickly cast of the Void. The latter was like looking at a film negative.

She patted her jacket, relieved to feel the bulge of her holsters still underneath it, and joined the flow on the streets.

Despite the chill on the air, Laelia couldn’t actually see anything out of the ordinary. She was fairly certain that what had leaked from the rift was, at worst, the benthos of the Void: scavengers and bottom feeders that probably couldn’t possess anyone or destroy anything.

Probably.

Maybe she should have taken comfort in the fact that she’d stopped the worst of it for now: that the Delphinus had prevailed and the proverbial sharks and whales hadn’t gotten lose instead. Still, she wasn’t sure how much she really trusted those damn spooks to keep the whole mess out there contained. If even little abominations like these had managed to escape the desert and cross into civilization, then, well…

Laelia glanced up as a cry came from further down the street.

One hand slipped into her jacket.

No…the rift was her problem. It was on her to protect these people, to fix this and put it right.

She’d opened the damn thing.

And she was going to be the one to close it.

[arachniss]

Horrormovie Night

Fluff, fluff, more fluff and some sweet talking towards baby Tamaki uwu

Prompt; Watching horror movies together

Arachniss Fall Event Masterlist

Tamaki did not like Halloween season, not much when he had to see such scary things at the markets.

Like right now, Halloween themed music played loudly from speakers as he walked around.

He didn't dislike everything about the Holiday, just the scary things like the masks and the haunted houses.

And everyone filling the small building with loud noises, mostly little kids who would scream and laugh as they begged their parents for candy and costumes.

He really didn't want to be there.

Seriously, he considered leaving six times already. Just abandoning the candy bags in his arms and giving up his search.

But he was hoping to spend the night with you, eating overpriced candy and watching horror movies, one of which you had said he could choose.

He went for the only horror movie he's ever seen that has never scared him, especially since it had to do with sea life and it looked so fake.

Turning a corner, he jumped when he heard a screech behind him, ears slightly drooping as he found the round container full of movies and almost cried when he saw what he was searching for all the way on the top.

As if calling for him.

Or mocking him, he wasn't sure.

Quick to pay, he noticed your favorite chocolate bar in full size and asked for it, taking his things and practically sprinting out of the grocery store.

—

“Oh! Tamaki, just in time! I made some popcorn so we can eat that, too!” He immediately smiled at the sight of you when you opened the door to your room, eyes showing your excitement and wide smile on your face.

You were wearing pajamas, a simple t-shirt of his that was big on you and a pair of shorts that went a bit above your knee.

Quickly, you let him in and shut the door behind him.

“What movie did you get?” You asked, sitting down on your bed and turning on your laptop, his eyes averting immediately as he answered from his spot in front of the door.

“..Jaws.”

“Ooo! Perfect, haven’t watched it in a while!”

He seemed to relax at your acceptance, placing the paper bag in his arms on your bed and sitting down next to you without being too close.

You haven’t been dating for long, a few months now, and the boy had no idea exactly how comfortable you were with him.

Once comfortable, he handed you the movie and you placed it in your laptop’s slot.

The movie immediately started, a quiet excited giggle leaving you as you snuggled up into his right side and pulled open the candy bag, the sweets spilling all over your sheets.

The movie began, the shark coming on screen and you almost immediately began stuffing your face with candy.

—

You booed, rolling your eyes at the horrible ending and flopping backwards onto your fluffy pillow with a pout on your face.

Tamaki had to admit that you looked adorable with that look on your face, hesitantly opening his mouth to speak, “That was kinda.. Bad..”

You laughed at how he said it, hesitant and as if to avoid sounding as if he thought it was boring, a hand running through your hair as you laid there.

“It was really bad! The shark looks so fake!”

He smiled a bit, looking down at your intertwined fingers and gently squeezing your hand. You had grabbed his hand in the middle of the movie, simply holding it as the movie progressed.

“Next movie!” You exclaim, going onto Netflix and straight to the horror movie section, “You okay with Child’s Play? I’ve heard it’s as fake as Jaws.”

“Um.. Okay.” He whispered, curling up against you so he was more comfortable, his slanted eyes focused on the cute smile you give him.

“If I get scared, I’ll hold onto you, okay?” You commented, your body warm against him as he flushed, eyes widening slightly.

He didn’t think you’d do it but the thought of a person depending on him, an anxious and flustered mess, made him feel a bit better.

The movie started, Charles Lee Ray running through the streets showing up and you once again began to stuff your face with food, popcorn this time.

—

He was wrong. There were a few moments where you did jump and clung to him, his eyes widening at the fact that you trusted him enough to hide your face into his side.

Maybe he was being overdramatic, anyone else would have simply shrugged and kept watching the movie, but he couldn’t help himself.

It was amazing, the feeling of you hiding from something behind him, even if it’s just a simple movie.

The movie was almost over, Andy shutting the door in his home to hide from the killer doll before running to his mom’s room had you sitting up.

You weren’t as jumpy anymore, having been freaked out in the beginning.

He wasn’t going to lie, the damn doll was creepy and he was trembling a bit as the anxiety started creeping up on him.

Your room was dark, it was a bit late now and none of your classmates seemed to be awake by how quiet the halls were.

You sighed as the movie ended, grumbling that it looked fake and that they added an uncalled for amount of blood, falling backwards onto your pillow with Tamaki´s arm still in your grip.

The position was uncomfortable for him, his arm at an odd angle against your chest.

He felt as if he’d upset you, though, if he mentioned it.

A grunt left your sprawled form, your grip on his arm loosening as you went to turn on your side, your head resting against his shoulder.

“You could’ve told me it was uncomfortable for you, bunny. I would’ve gotten into this position instead.”

“Sorry..”

The smile on your face worked at relaxing his tense body immediately, your words encouragement for him to interlock fingers with you.

“No need to apologize.”

He began searching for something else to watch, hopefully faker than the previous one in hopes of being able to be more comfortable in the dark room.

“How’s Goosebumps sound, bunny?” He mumbles, faintly feeling you nod against his arm, “Okay,”

Another two hours went by, your boyfriend popping the occasional chocolate or cookie in his mouth as he watched The Haunted Mask play, the episode coming to a cliffhanger.

Your cheek was pressed against his shoulder, still, your focus on the tv.

He had thought you were falling asleep until he heard your voice, his body jolting at the words.

“Can you stay the night? That movie kinda made me feel a bit paranoid now..”

The teachers would scold the both of you if he were to stay, but he didn’t really acknowledge it much.

Instead, he turned so he was on his side and wrapped his arms around you, letting you bury your face into the crook of his neck, instead.

Red faced, he gently pressed a soft kiss to the crown of your head, immediately shoving his face into your hair.

You pouted, reaching up to play with his hair as he hid his cute face from you.

“Tamaki! You can’t just do that and expect me to let it go!”

“Good night..”

“Eh!? Good night!?”

He didn’t answer, the pout still on your face as you struggled to move your head away from his.

It took a few tries but he let you grab his face eventually, his lips trembling and face still bright red.

“You’re amazing and adorable.” You state, noticing immediately how his eyes widened at your praise, “And I love you, Tamaki. And your adorable shyness.”

A quick kiss had his heart hammering against his rib cage, your words making him start to tear up.

The last thing he wanted was for you to see him crying because of three words, his eyes gawking at you because you looked so serious.

You loved him.

Anxious Tamaki Amajiki.

Face-the-wall-when-faced-with-negative-emotions Tamaki Amajiki.

Blushing mess and tearing up when told he’s loved Tamaki Amajiki.

He was shaking uncontrollably as he stared at you, hearts in his eyes as he struggled to respond.

“Tamababy, you don’t have to say it back.”

His brows furrowed, voice coming out quiet.

“I-I love you, t-too, (Y-N).”

[theravennest]

Let’s Talk: The Blooms at Ruyi Pavilion

I finished all 40 eps about two weeks ago, actually. I enjoyed it for the most part, the 1st half especially, but there were several things near the end that took me out. 

But first some of the good bits...

The cast chemistry was immaculate. Our four main lead actors were a lot of fun together. Not just Zhang Zhehan and Ju Jing Yi, but also Wang You Shuo and Xu Jiaqi (Loved them!). The four of them have such obvious ease with each other after their previous work together in Legend of Yun Xi and it made scenes with any combination of the main four really pop. 

I was especially drawn to the sisters’ relationship and the Prince-Vassal bond going on between Prince Su and Little Marquis. (Y’all know I’m a sucker for both sibling stories and stories about fictional royals and their loyal vassals.)

Most of the ancillary characters were interesting, actually. As y’all know from my last post about this one, I was crack shipping like crazy all the side characters. 😂 This cast made it easy for me.

Except for Prince An. (Sorry to hit the bad so early.) Good god, I hated that man. His character was poorly drawn in pretty much every way, which is unfortunate cuz he’s the main antagonist. Any story with a main antagonist that just doesn’t work is always gonna be weaker.

Also, no offense to people who like that actor but he was the only cast member who did absolutely nothing for me in terms of performance. So much of the story was focused on his weaksauce motivation and dry acting like, my god, put me out of my misery I do not care.

Anyway, the set design and costuming was top notch and I even enjoyed the broader story ideas the show was trying to put forth. The sitcom vibe of the first 20 eps or so was SOOO good. Our four mains’ comedic timings were pitch perfect. 

Unfortunately, the writing took a sharp nosedive in the back 3rd or so and it had a rough ending. (The lightning strike on the tower scene, the fight in the underground temple, the return of Prince An’s mom...all of that was trash. let’s be real.)

I mostly blame this on three things: the missteps with the Prince An character, the lack of development of Rong’s prophetic dreams even though that was the main premise of the show, and the jump-the-shark moment that was the wedding night and its subsequently underwritten fallout. 

Now to clarify, I don’t mean to say the wedding night event shouldn’t have happened at all but rather the execution of it within the story was poor and it negatively impacted 90% of the other character motivations/progressions and the overall pacing. 

You know, it felt like that thing you do as a writer where you wake up and have a specific scene in your mind. It’s evocative, impactful, fun, or otherwise intense. But you just have that scene and it’s something that would have to happen in the middle of your story. So you work your way backwards to try to get to that scene and you do your best to get the characters to make decisions to get there but when you sit down to write nothing works out. It’s clunky or OOC for the scene to still happen so you end up having to either scrap the evocative scene or keep the clunky lead up and hope no one notices. That’s what that wedding scene and everything that happened after felt like. They wrote themselves into a corner and just struggled to recover until the bitter end. 

The main pairing suffered the most because of the poor writing choices. No matter how much chemistry ZZH and JJY have together, even they could not completely salvage Rong’s yo-yoing behavior with Prince Su. They started off so wholesome and then dove into such toxicity and miscommunication for no reason. 

Don’t get me wrong. I can very easily enjoy angst. But Fu Rong consistently broke this man down. After ep 25-26, it stopped being good angst and became so awful to watch all the emotional manipulation and turmoil. There’s something broken in the writing if 9 out of 10 times Prince Su cried or fell into depression it was because of something Rong did or said to him after jumping to a conclusion with only part of the puzzle pieces gathered. 

I could forgive some stuff because Prince An was manipulating things but some stuff was just all Rong not giving Prince Su the benefit of the doubt or plain old not doing her due diligence in investigating. She is supposed to have inherited the most prolific and successful spy organization in the show and she still got 90% of her conclusions wrong. It was like she was determined to always think the worst of Prince Su no matter what despite how often he went above and beyond to help her. Despite the fact that he literally had a reputation as a general for being a harsh taskmaster but fair and just. 

I think what broke me was when she did the bare minimum investigation into her own father’s death and just fully blamed Prince Su without confronting him honestly or even considering his personality or their relationship up until that point. She really believed a single street seller’s entire testimony over the man she lived with and supposedly loved for months. Girl...

And this is after she’d previously mistakenly accused him of killing her mentor with very few facts to the point where she stabbed him on their wedding night.

There came a point where I actually wanted Prince Su to finally, truly divorce Rong and settle down with someone who could love him right. Maybe give him time to heal from the repeated heartbreaks, betrayals, and the literal stab wound in his chest but he was so fucking in love with Rong, he just couldn’t escape.

(If there were behind the scenes production reasons for the clunky-ness of the back half, I would not be surprised at all but ultimately they don’t matter cuz the story we got was the story we got.)

Imagine if we had gotten a Rong who used her prophetic dreams to navigate the cut throat world of royal politics. Or imagine if we’d gotten Rong as a true apprentice to Ruyi who learned both metalsmithing and spycraft in the first half and took over the pavilion as a competent leader in the second half. As it stands, it just felt like wasted potential.

I’m glad they had the modern day special AU eps tho cuz those were great. Zhang Zhehan and Ju Jing Yi had the opportunity to really showcase their incredible chemistry but in a modern setting and with better writing than the back 3rd of BRYP.

Now let’s talk Zhang Zhehan since he was the reason I started this in the first place. I loved him in this. I truly did. He was stern and serious but also playful and sweet. He was romantic but awkward, badass but vulnerable. He really delivered a nuanced and charming performance. I loved every second.

I think my favorite moment wasn’t some badass fight or even a super romantic moment. No, it was when he got drunk and started crying like a little baby cuz Rong was constantly doubting him no matter what he did. It was simultaneously sad and hilarious. Like gut busting funny. Y’all can watch it here:

I laughed so fucking hard at this. Oh my god, guys! This shit was too much.

Random Thoughts:

The romance between the 2nd leads was A+. Truly an adorable affair. Though I think they should’ve gotten together officially earlier around ep 25 or so and we should’ve seen the rest with them as a couple.

The costuming was so good y’all. For all the main four characters but I was especially drawn to Prince Su’s outfits.

The ghostly pale look with the bright red lips and eyeshadow makeup for Rong did not bother me at all. I actually liked it for her though I think it would’ve worked better if she’d had more explicit prophetic abilities.

I could’ve used more actual war scenes with Prince Su and Little Marquis.

The OST for the show SLAPPED!

That one kid spy in Ruyi Pavilion was voiced by the same actor as Chengling from WOH and I have never double-taked harder. lmao

Even though there were things I didn’t like in this show, I appreciated how gay I could make it in my last post. Truly it was a bisexual’s dream aesthetically.

[delimeful]

(don’t) take this the wrong way (3)

sequel to underwater & blood | ao3 link

warnings: blood mention, hypnosis/mind-altering mention, fear, miscommunication, bad assumptions made while stressed

-

Virgil hurriedly propelled himself through the wide tunnels of the underwater cave system, all of his nerves screaming. Every time he turned a corner, he expected the two giant mers to be on the other side, sharp teeth and cage-like hands at the ready.

It didn’t help matters that he was already weighed down by an entire human dragging along behind him. He cast a glance over his shoulder, where Logan was clutching at his spectacles with one hand and desperately hanging onto Virgil’s wrist with the other. Good thing humans didn't have claws, or Virgil would be spilling even more blood all over the place than he already was.

A fresh current brushed past him, and he took the next turn sharply, just barely not grazing the rough tunnel walls. There! He could see an exit, the bright blue of the open ocean just beyond it.

Halfway there, Logan’s grip on his hand turned painful, the bones in his wrist creaking under the pressure.

“What?” he snapped, despite knowing that the human couldn’t understand his irritable clicks.

When he turned, however, the problem was obvious: the human was out of air, bubbles leaking from his nose and mouth.

Virgil bit his lip and wasted a moment looking between Logan’s purpling face and his gateway to freedom. His instincts knew what the smart thing to do was, but he couldn’t stop remembering the way the human had given him space, spoke politely, kept him calm in the face of overwhelming terror.

“Oh, fine, fine!” he finally groaned, swearing profusely as he found the nearest upward crevice and dragged the both of them into it.

The moment they breached the surface, Logan was spluttering and gasping, halfway to choking on his own spit. Virgil shoved him up onto the nearest ledge and hurriedly pulled himself up after, the phantom feeling of giant hands grasping at him enough to make him want to vacate the water entirely.

Unfortunately, he’d massively overestimated the size of the rock shelf, and ended up flopped over the wheezing human from head to fin.

Whoops.

---

“Wh-- What--?” Logan attempted to dislodge the mermaid sprawled on top of him, and then stilled as Virgil hissed at him from close range, those rows of teeth only inches from his neck.

It was just one thing after another, today. He tried to steady his breathing, and after a moment, regained his composure. “Seeing as this is a limited space and sharks are quite sensitive to blood, I would advise against trying to consume me at this juncture.”

Virgil pushed himself up further, enough that their faces weren’t inches apart, and now Logan could properly see his disgusted expression. “What? Ew, gross, no. If I cared that little about your life, I would have just let you drown back there.”

“Oh.” Logan coughed awkwardly, his cheeks a bit hot. “In that case, why tackle and pin me?”

Virgil rolled his eyes. “I’m trying to keep out of the water so we don’t get noticed, numbskull. Do you see any more room on this little ledge?”

It was true; there wasn’t much space in the fissure. At least some light made it down from above, illuminating their current position. Logan frowned thoughtfully.

“Hm, if you’ll allow me to adjust…”

With a significant bit of shifting around and a few more hisses from Virgil about ‘manhandling’, Logan managed to get upright, with his legs crossed in the lotus position. Virgil was sitting up as well, though half of his tail had to curl over Logan’s lap.

“Much better,” Logan said, satisfied. Virgil still looked a bit green around the gills from watching Logan bend his knees. “I suppose this is as opportune a time as any to thank you for saving my life.”

Logan had kind of hoped the mermaid would be too nauseous to pay attention, but to no avail. Virgil’s ear fins twitched strangely, and he lifted his head to look at Logan with something like surprise.

Seemed as though he had to elaborate. Ugh, feelings. “From my observations, you could have left me and made your escape much faster. It would have been pragmatic of you, but I appreciate that you didn’t. Unfortunately, now we’re both trapped here, with no idea when or if those giants lurk nearby. So you have my thanks and my apologies.”

Virgil made a strange trill-click, his expression amused. “Don’t apologize for me saving your life, dumbass. You had no say in the matter. Anyways, at least when I die, it’ll be in the company of a ballsy human.”

“If you die,” Logan corrected the cognitive distortion automatically. “Remember, there’s still options available that could lead us to freedom. Though… I’m unsure how far out in the ocean the siren carried me. It’s entirely possible that I will run out of stamina and drown before I reach land.”

“Listen, if we get out of this alive, I’ll tow you to a beach myself,” Virgil replied with a snort. “Sorry man, but once they find their snacks have vanished, they’re going to be out for blood.”  

“You seem to have quite a negative outlook on our chances.” Logan watched as the purple caudal fin flicked back and forth absently. “Are they truly that devoted to devouring us?”

“I mean... I dunno how much, I’m not a mind reader. I just try not to make a habit of pissing off anything big enough to eat me in one bite,” Virgil snarked back. “It’s how I’m still alive. If there’s one thing I’m sure about, it’s that there’s no way they would just let us go.”

---

Patton and Roman stared at the cave shelf in stunned silence.

Where before there had been a human and a tiny mer, there was now only a splotchy puddle of blood and the remnants of a fishing net scattered about.

“Oh dear,” Patton said, looking down at the kelp bandages he’d retrieved.

Roman dropped his sword and ran his hands through his hair, shocked. “Why in the sea did they vanish like that? What about sharks? What about the human?!”

“Oh dear,” Patton said again, remembering how far out they were from the little guy’s home. “Why would they leave? I didn’t think the human could swim far enough or long enough to get out of this cave system!”

Roman frowned, squinting at a sharp tooth he’d found among the shredded net. “... Maybe he couldn’t. The little mer— he couldn’t hurt us, obviously, but— the human is so small, and he growled at him, remember? What if—?”

The shark mer was looking more horrified by the minute, and Patton set a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

“Let’s not jump to conclusions, Ro. How about I try and call for the human? If he hears it, I’ll know.”

Roman nodded quickly, and Patton took a deep breath before letting the magic coiled inside him rise up, lace itself through his voice in the ringing tones that the human had best responded to back on the beach.

In the distance, there was a jerk of surprise-recognition-fear as his song reached the ears of the human, and Patton grimaced at the feeling that curled along the siren bond. He tried to soothe the terror, coaxing the human back towards the water with promises that he wouldn’t be hurt, that they were just there to help and get him home.

After a few moments, the human succumbed to his magic, letting go of his resistance with something like resignation. Patton bit his lip briefly but didn't stop, waiting for the moment he would hit the water and reveal his whereabouts to Patton.

It never came.

Patton blinked, surprised, but the human continued to stay in place, despite struggling to reach the song’s source. Was he being… restrained?

He broke the song off after another few moments with no movement, quickly reassuring Roman that the human was still alive, and not hurt.

“I think he’s being held in place though,” he added, and Roman’s expression darkened. “I can get close, but I’m not sure I’ll be able to pinpoint the exact place. In tunnels like these, it could be anywhere.”

“The small mer was bleeding, remember?” Roman replied, tail swishing in agitation. “If I can catch the scent, I can get us the rest of the way there. Let’s go.”

[pappydaddy]

Heather Part Two (j.m.)

A/N: Okay, so I have decided to start saying as little as possible in my A/Ns just to see if it brings in more interaction, if you guys want me to continue my ramblings, just shoot me a DM or something and I won’t stop them. This is a repost bc nobody saw this the first time?? Pls interact with this (preferably reblogging, but likes are good too!) 

 Anywho, this is the second part of Heather (my JJ imagine based on Heather by Conan Gray) and this is told from JJ’s perspective, I got this idea when I found this kinda parody/cover of the original song which will be linked below. I put some different scenes in this one too so it’s not just a retelling of my first part. Anyway, enjoy!!

Show/Movie: Outer Banks

Pairing: JJ Maybank x Reader

Warnings: Sad, angst, longing, negative thoughts about oneself (appearance, personality, etc), comparing to other people, jealousy, unspoken feelings

Might do a part three? I’ll probably do a part three.

Heather Cover by Zachary Tay

Part One | Part Two - You’re here!

masterlist | taglist | wips | navigation

- not my gif -

  He didn’t technically see her when she arrived at the beach, but he still knew she was there before she wandered down the dunes. He couldn’t help but glance over his shoulder, trying to get a peek of her. There she was, her shoes swinging by her side, her hair blowing in the wind as she walked. She didn’t look towards the group of her friends, instead, she scanned the beach and JJ found himself missing her gorgeous eyes. He watched her, her eyes slowly drifting towards the fire JJ sat at. In a spilt second, their eyes connected and JJ wished he could stay in her gaze forever, but her eyes were ripped from his as she breezed past the group.

 The girl under his arm laughed loudly, making him draw his eyes away from Y/N. He looked at the black-haired girl (Heather) donned in his sweater, clinging to him as she laughed at something John B had said. “What’s so funny,” JJ asked, trying to play off his absence. He didn’t really listen to John B’s recount. “Oh, must have had to heard it in the moment, I guess.” He mumbled, his eyes following Y/N as Jack, her co-worker from The Wreck ran towards her, a large smile on his face. He took in Y/N’s appearance, the sweater she wore was too big for her, it certainly wasn’t hers. It dawned on him like a lighting strike; it was Jack’s sweater. He felt a pang in his heart, remembering how she looked in his own sweater, the very sweater Heather wore right in that moment.

 He remembered how good Y/N looked in his sweater and how often she wore it after he had given it to her. On Heather, it was just a piece of polyester fabric, but on Y/N, it was much more than just a sweater. The day she gave his sweater back to him was the day he concluded that she didn’t like him. He couldn’t imagine how he even thought she would like him, he’s not even good enough for his father and he could barely stand himself. How the hell would Y/N want him if he didn’t even want himself? He didn’t even understand how Heather liked him.

 His eyes followed Jack as he ran off once again, obviously apologizing profusely to Y/N. Jack was everything JJ wasn’t: sweet, smart, hard-working, career driven, and loved. JJ wanted to hate Jack, but he couldn’t, he was too good of a person. He could see that Y/N and Jack would make a good couple, he could see why Y/N would have her gaze set on him. His dark hair, his tall stature, his boy-next-door smile - he was the complete package.

 Setting his eyes on Y/N yet again, he saw her sit down on a piece of driftwood, staring out at the ocean as the waves lapped up towards her barefeet. He let himself imagine that the sweater she was wrapped up in was his. He often replayed the December night he gave his sweater to her in his head, imagining that he had actually done what he wanted - kissing her. He liked to live in that alternate story at night, laying in his bed. He sighed, glad he didn’t kiss her in the long-run, for he didn’t know who he liked more: Y/N or Heather. “JJ, you should tell Heather about that one time when John B was high off his ass when CPS came knocking on his door.” Kie laughed, capturing JJ’s attention from the girl sitting on the driftwood.

 “Oh, uh, yeah, sure.” JJ laughed, remembering that day as he launched into his story. Though his eyes weren’t on her, Y/N still plagued his mind, having been there that day as well, skipping school to smoke with JJ and John B. He laughed as he retold the story, poking fun at John B, but leaving Y/n out of the story, not wanting to pull her into his fling with Heather, knowing there will be drama if he did.

 Though he was immersed in the story he was telling, he still noticed Y/N standing and walking along the beach, leaving the party before it even started. The bleeding colours in the sky made her skin glow with pink and orange, making her look like the figure of beauty. As she walked away, JJ could have cried. He didn’t understand how he, the boy who wanted nothing to do with the messiness of love, ended up in this situation.

____

  The words Kie had told him earlier rattled in his brain like a single pill in a bottle. His mind played that moment back like a movie reel continuously playing. Once it ended, it restarted again. Like a painful torture device used to drive him to the brink of insanity.

 “I don’t get why Y/N keeps avoiding us! We never see her anymore, not since Heather started hanging out with us,” JJ groaned, plunking himself down on the couch dramatically. He had asked Y/N earlier at school (after cornering her at her locker) if she wanted to have a movie night just like old times, but she had told him she was going to study for a big biology test she had. “Why does she even need to study anyway? She’s at the top of her biology class, only second to Pope, of course.” JJ threw in the last comment, pleasing his friend who sat beside him on the couch, a freshly popped bowl of popcorn in his lap.

 “You guys do know why, right?” Kie asked, looking over her shoulder at them as she shifted through the DVD collection, the group deciding to go old school for the night. JJ shook his head while John B and Pope both nodded, making noises of understanding. JJ looked around, confusion clearly painted on his face.

 “Y/N still likes JJ.” Pope commented, tossing a handful of popcorn into his mouth, chewing it as if what he had just said was common knowledge.

 “What?” JJ asked, panicked, glad that Heather was hanging out with some of her other friends tonight instead of being with them. If she had been here, he would have never be given this piece of information.

 “You didn’t know?” John B asked, bewildered that JJ hadn’t picked up on anything.

 “Obviously not-” JJ cried, his eyes wide.

 “It was obvious, we all thought you had known by at least December third when you gave her your sweater, we thought that was you making your move on her finally.” Kie explained, shrugging.

 JJ still couldn’t believe that. If only he had seen how much she liked him, maybe he wouldn’t be praying for his eyes to catch her’s every time she walked by him. Maybe he wouldn’t want to cry every time they broke eye contact. Maybe he wouldn’t have assumed she likes Jack. He groaned, flopping around in the spare bed at John B’s, staring up at the dark ceiling as moonlight casted the window’s shadow onto the white surface.

 If he had known how much Y/N liked him that night, he wouldn’t be questioning who he liked more still. Maybe he didn’t like Heather at all. Now that he knew that Y/N likes him, he started to realize that maybe he didn’t truly like Heather, instead, only liking the idea of the distraction from the one he really liked. Though he realized this, he couldn’t do anything about it anytime soon. He had plans to eat lunch tomorrow with Heather and the group, he couldn’t break up with Heather at The Wreck.

_____

 Y/N was working today. That was the whole reason they were eating at The Wreck, to see her. John B and Pope missed her, Kie was able to see her during the shifts they shared or during shift changes, but the boys hadn’t seen her. JJ and Heather stood on the deck, leaning against the railing and JJ was giving the performance of his life. He couldn’t have Heather thinking that something was going on with him (he still had no idea who he liked more) so he was trying to act as normal as possible around her despite the fact that a war raged in his mind.

 He tried to keep his eyes on Heather as she talked adamantly. JJ nodded along, not really listening. Heather was beautiful and kind, but JJ grew bored easily. They had nothing in common. He was a surfer, she was from the city filled with concrete buildings and shopping malls. She just didn’t understand the joy in the little things. When JJ wanted to stargaze, she’d rather gaze at a TV screen. When JJ wanted to just sit on the beach and listen to the waves, she wanted to take pictures. When JJ just wanted to sit on his surfboard and let the waves roll under him, she didn’t want to ruin her make-up.

 Her hand squeezed his as she asked him about the stores he shopped at. He, not wanting to ignore her, joined her one-sided conversation and explained his mode of gaining clothes. She listened for the most part, but listening wasn’t really Heather’s strong suit. She loved to talk, not that JJ minded, but he would also like to have a conversation without being interrupted with a completely different story. He shot a glance in through the door, seeing Y/N at a table, talking with the costumers. She nodded, a shining smile on her face. JJ loved talking with Y/N. She’d listen, she’d talk. He’d listen, he’d talk. It was a perfectly balanced conversation with Y/N.

 He looked back down at Heather when she had asked him yet another question, but JJ wasn’t listening. “I’m sorry, what?” He asked, blinking. Heather giggled, thinking JJ was just a spacey type person who stared off in the distance, zoning out easily.

 “I asked about your shark tooth necklace, I’ve always wanted one.” She told him, the hand, that wasn’t in his, reaching up to fiddle with the shark tooth. JJ looked down at it, smiling fondly.

 “My friend made it for me with the shark tooth I found, I’ve never taken it off since they gave it to me.” He left out that it was Y/N who made it for him while she was going through her necklace making phase in middle school. She had made it too big originally, but it was okay since JJ grew since then.

 “Oh, well, maybe I could wear it sometime,” Heather asked flirtatiously. JJ gulped, not knowing what to say. He didn’t want to give it to her, but he didn’t want to start a fight before they ate a meal with his friends in public. Instead of answering, he pressed his lips to her’s in a lingering, long kiss. Heather smiled, giggling against his lips. Pulling away from the kiss, JJ glanced at the parking lot to see if John B and Pope were there yet, but his eyes came up with nothing. Heather shivered as a strong wind blew by them. “I’m a little cold.”

 JJ looked down at her, seeing that she didn’t have his sweater on. It was different, when Y/N had his sweater, she always wore it, or at least brought it, just in case she got cold. Heather didn’t bring it anywhere unless JJ asked about it. Wordlessly, JJ unlaced their fingers, dropping his arm around her shoulders, pulling her towards him. “I wonder if Y/N is cold? She doesn’t have a sweater on, only a t-shirt.” He thought, watching the parking lot out of the corner of his eye. He sighed, trying to clear his mind.

 “Yo! Let’s get some grub! I’m starving,”John B cheered, piling out of the van with Pope who cheered in agreement. JJ pulled away a bit too quick to play it off as normal while John B and Pope jogged up the stairs, their sneakers slapping the wooden deck. They walked right into the restaurant, leaving Heather and JJ to follow them. The bell above the door dinged, making Y/N and Jack look up from what they were doing. JJ looked up, seeing Jack leaning across Y/N, his shoulder touching her torso ever so lightly as he cleaned up spilt water. “Hi, Y/N! Where is your section?” John B asked.

 “Sorry, John B, I’ll have to take your table so she can get cleaned up, next time.” Jack told him, getting another dry towel to try and help her dry her clothes so she wasn’t dripping everywhere. JJ could sense John B’s disappointment, and he had to admit he was a little bit disappointed that he wouldn’t be able to hear Y/N’s sweet voice that he missed so much.

 “Thanks, Jack,” John B nodded his chin in Jack’s direction. “Maybe we’ll talk before we leave, Y/N.” Y/N looked back up from her shirt at the mention of her name, nodding. Their eyes connected as Kie and Heather jumped into a conversation. Every time their eyes connected, it was such a relief to JJ it truly was a sight for sore eyes. Much to his disappointment, their eye contact was gone as fast as it came when Jack interrupted.

 “That should be good, Y/N,” She looked from JJ’s eyes to meet Jack’s. The sight of her eyes connecting with Jack’s made JJ want to cry, missing that tiny connection that seemed to be the extent of their friendship these days. “You should go get changed, I’ll take these to the table for you, table four, right?” The group started to move, but JJ wanted to stay there, see if their eye would meet again before she disappeared to change, but he had to go with them. He was just out of earshot when she replied to Jack who carried the tray of drinks towards table four effortlessly.

____

 He knew he shouldn’t have done this at school. He was kicking himself as Heather weeped, her face in her hands. “I’m sorry, Heather,” He whispered, nervously looking at the crowd watching them. They were stood next to the side of the building, the crowd gathering in the parking lot. He had tried to do it privately, but he also wanted a clean cut. When he saw his sweater in Heather’s hand, he had known that today was the day. “It’s just not working out.” He tried to console her, his fist gripping the sweater he held now.

 The group watching whispered, making JJ roll his eyes. Now he was going to be painted the villain, the heartless asshole who broke up with the girl in front of the whole school even though they just see her weeping and gasping, not the part where JJ was actually considerate for once. Normally, it was a harsh slap to his cheek and a few tears slipping past their eyes as they walked away, not full on sobs. Especially since they were only going out for three weeks - tops.

 Heather looked up from her hands, letting her arms swing at her sides as she glared at JJ. Black streaks of makeup cascading down her cheeks. With a final, harsh glare at JJ, she ran off, the group of people parting to let her through. JJ watched her run, his shoulders deflating at his ruined chance of keeping the break-up private. His eyes landed on one of the pairs of people Heather parted in her haste to escape: Y/N and Jack. They stood side by side, Jack holding both their books in his hands, both their bookbag straps on his shoulders.

 The group quickly dispersed, giving JJ a perfect view of them. He could see Jack say something to Y/N before she said something back, their eyes catching each other, once again making eye contact. JJ was so absorbed in her eyes that he didn’t notice the sympathetic smile she sent his way. It felt like forever as he stared into her eyes, her just staring back. He wanted her to stay, he wanted to stay, but he couldn’t just break-up with Heather and then turn around, rush towards Y/N, sweep her off her feet and profess his love for her - then he would be an asshole.

 “Come on, Y/N, let’s go. We can’t be late for our shift.” JJ heard Jack tell her, forcing her to break away from JJ’s eyes. He felt tears prick his eyes at the loss of their moment. His eyes never left her, once again hoping for their eyes to connect again, even though he had to watch her eyes connect with Jack’s which caused his heart to throb painfully. Watching her turn and walk towards Jack’s pick-up truck was the sight that made him want to die, then the pain in his heart would stop - right? The picture of her sitting in his passanger seat didn’t sit right with JJ. The thump of Jack tossing their books and bags in the bed of his truck made JJ flinch, but he still never took his eyes off Y/N, not even when Jack slipped onto the bench seat beside her, starting his truck and slamming his door.

 His pleas were answered when Y/N turned to gaze out the window, their eyes connecting once again in a fleeting moment before Jack slowly pulled out of the spot, exiting the nearly empty parking lot. JJ watched the truck as it drove down the road, waiting until it was out of his sight before he moved. He found out who he liked more. It was Y/N. It was always Y/N.

[clintbartonswife]

i’d trade my life for yours

Pairings: Geralt of Rivia x Jaskier Summary: Jaskier will be loyal to Geralt until his last breath, this he swears. Notes: im sorry. descriptions of torture. mentions rape (not graphic in the slightest, more like an allusion, but tagged it just to be safe), major character death. This is the bad ending, for a nicer ending read the series below :) masterlist  || nicer ending (p2)

Jaskier had always felt too much, falling a little bit in love with almost everyone he meets. The seamstress from Beauclair with the deepest green eyes he had ever seen, the knight from Kerack who had muscles the size of Jaskier’s head, the innkeeper and his wife from Rinde who had the warmest smiles he had ever seen.

All loves that he treasured, yet let go after a night or two, the heartache keeping him company until he found another gorgeous person to fall for.

When he finds Geralt at the ripe age of 18 it’s different, for once the bard doesn’t want to leave, a nagging feeling pulling him along the path by the Witcher’s side.

His love grows easily, from that of shallow appreciation of his honey golden eyes to a fierce want to protect his love from those that scorn him in every village they visit, a need to nurture the fragile relationship they were building.

It’s only Jaskier’s luck that the only person to ever intrigue him enough to stay seems to want him to leave, impenetrable walls built around his heart.

So, Jaskier writes songs of their travels, being respectful of Geralt’s boundaries whilst still trying to provide as much tender love and care as he could without scaring the Witcher, all the while falling deeper and deeper in love.

Everything starts to go wrong after the djiin.

He watches through the window as his heart breaks with every thrust of Geralt’s hips, the Witchers disinterest (which he had assumed was general Witchery distance) suddenly making more sense - he just didn’t like Jaskier.

Still the bard stayed, sewing his heart back together with every step he took beside the Witcher. His affectionate touches didn’t falter, not allowing his own personal hurt to affect his Geralt negatively. He still deserved as much softness as he could bring himself to provide - Melitele knows Yennefer wasn’t providing that.

Jaskier funnelled all of his creative energy in to his songs, more and more of them staying in his private notebook, too personal to be sung in front of Geralt, let alone the general public.

After each time they met with Yennefer, Jaskier was there to pick up the broken pieces the Witch left behind, baring the brunt of Geralt’s bad mood for a week after she had gone, heart chipping a little more each time as his hatred for the woman grows.

The last straw was the dragon hunt. The whistling winds whipping Jaskier’s hair in his eyes as Geralt’s words lashed out at him, vicious and hateful.

In the following two weeks, Jaskier drank to forget, falling back into old habits and into strangers beds with a new desperation.

The young farmer with hazel eyes - not as beautiful as Geralt’s. The miller’s daughter with blonde hair - not light enough.

The people begin to blend together, yet it doesn’t work. The heartbreak still radiates through his body, numbing him from any other emotion.

He’s too drunk to register that Cintra has fallen.

Too drunk to hear the rumours of the bounty on his head.

Too drunk to notice the Nilfgaardian soldiers entering the tavern.

Too drunk to defend himself against their arms that steal him away that night.

When he awakens the next morning, head throbbing with the familiar pain of a hangover, Jaskier is hit with a wave of nausea.

Turning his head to the side, he reaches for the bed-side table, blanching when he finds his arms restrained. It takes a few seconds to register that he’s in unfamiliar surroundings: the distinctly tavern smell (of weak ale and piss) gone, the slightly scratchy linens of the bed replaced with a hard wood surface.

Unrestrained panic swelled up in the bard’s chest, his instincts kicking in as he tried to mimic sleep.

‘Just breathe slowly, keep your eyes closed and stay calm’ repeated through his brain, sounding suspiciously like Geralt’s voice.

“-the bastard up yet?”

“He wasn’t the last time I checked, no sir”

“And no sign from the Witcher?”

“None sir”

Jaskier heard a scoff as the door opened, two sets of feet stopping at the side of the chair. Unnerving silence fell for a few seconds, before a heavy kick was given to his ribs, punching the air from his lungs in a loud exhale.

“Now listen here, bard” the bigger of the two men all-but-growled, looming over Jaskier as the singer blinked heavily to clear the daze that had settled over him, “We’re going to make this real simple. You tell us what we need to know, and maybe we wont kill you”

Scrunching his nose in disgust, Jaskier considered his options, “What is it that you want to know?”

Another scoff.

“Maybe he’s not so useless after all” the tall man sneered, exchanging an amused glance with the man stood in the corner, “Tell us where the Butcher of Blaviken is”

Self preservation was forgotten as the nickname stirred up anger deep inside Jaskier, the unfairness choking him, “I’m afraid I don’t know any butchers, not the biggest fan of hanging around long enough in towns long enough to befriend anyone in that profession I’m afraid”

That earnt him a sharp slap, the sting helping to ground him.

“Don’t try to be smart. Where is the Witcher - Geralt of Rivia?”

“Oh, I do know him” Jaskier answered, tone kept light and conversational, “Of course I haven’t seen him in months so I’m afraid I’m really of no use to you gentlemen”

Another slap.

“Now that must be a lie. Why would the Witcher leave his little whore behind?”

Now that one stung, the frown forming on Jaskier’s face before he could stop it.

“Aw, struck a chord with that, did I? He found someone else I assume - though Melitele knows how anyone can lay with a monster like -”

Rage finally overflowing, Jaskier spat in the man’s face, “How dare you call him a monster. He’s a better man than you’ll ever be”

A bitter chuckle, followed by a punch that left the bard tasting copper.

“I think you might actually be in love with that thing” he said, amused, “That just makes this all the more fun”

Jaskier held eye contact with the man, glowering as he slowly spat out the pooled blood onto the floor.

“Tell me where he is”

“No”

Two punches to his stomach, and a hard kick to his shin.

“My sister hurt me worse than that for stealing her brush when we were seven” Jaskier sneered.

“Where is he”

A backhand across the face, followed by three hard kicks to his ribs.

“Toss a coin to your-”

Another heavy kick to his stomach, winding him slightly as he keeled forward, a burning pain spreading over his chest.

“Oh valley of plenty” he wheezed, forcing his head back up to stare at his captor’s face.

The day carried on very much the same, Jaskier working through his repertoire of songs as he was beaten black and blue, the lyrics keeping him focused and alert.

The man in the corner just stood and watched, his silent presence looming over the beating.

“I must say” Jaskier eventually huffed, directing his words at the man in the corner, “Your indifference to this situation is highly annoying. Are you not enjoying the performance?”

His question was met with another heavy hit to his stomach, the skin there surely covered in a patchwork quilt of forming bruises.

“You bore me”

The voice was cold, cutting through the pain like a knife and replacing all feeling in his body with the need to flee, an innate wrongness surrounding the man.

He stepped forward into the light, pink eyes flashing at him, “I think it’s high time we shut you up”

The taller man grinned, a shark-like expression that just added to the bard’s discomfort, moving behind him to grab him by the sides of the head, tilting him so that his neck was bared to the room.

They’re going to slit my throat, Jaskier thought absently, half delirious with pain, this is it.

The slimy tendrils of magic prodding at his mind made Jaskier’s eyes widen in panic, struggling against the bonds in a fruitless effort to get away from the unsettling sensation.

No. No this was so much worse.

He could handle pain. He could handle taunting words and harsh treatment. The one thing Jaskier couldn’t handle was fucking mages.

“No - “ he gasped, voice distorted by the angle of his head, “please-”

Yellow eyes. Lips curled in to a snarl.

The mountain.

“Damn it, Jaskier!”

No. No no no no no no no. Not this. Anything but this.

“Why is it whenever I find myself in a pile of shit these days, its you, shoveling it?”

White hair. Curled fists.

“If life could give me one blessing, it would be to take you off my hands”

Wet eyes. Shattered heart. A wasted life.

“Damn it, Jaskier!”

And it looped. Again, and again, and again,

“Ready to talk, bard?”

His eyes fluttered open, eyelids heavy, fighting to remain closed.

“Fuck. You” he hissed, words mangled through gritted teeth.

The mage smirked, fingers reaching for his temple again, “Very well. It seems like one hour wasn’t enough”

The last thought Jaskier had before being pulled back to the mountain was one of horror, that one hour had felt like an entire day.

When he came to once more, Geralt’s voice still ringing in his ears, Jaskier realised there was a new man in the otherwise empty room.

“Going to talk yet little birdy?” the man asked, voice far too light for the circumstances, his posture reminiscent of those that approached him in taverns with hopes of charming him into bed that night.

The realisation occurred to him as he noticed his hands were free, a rusty cot added to the corner of the room.

“No” he whispered, the horror palpable in his tone.

“Well that’s too bad” the man sneered, his too-rough hands dragging him out of the chair and towards the cot.

The irony was that in that moment Jaskier would’ve given anything to have been back on that mountain, Geralt blaming him for everything, rather than be faced with his current reality.

Of course, the mage wasn’t kind enough for that.

Jaskier wasn’t sure how many days had passed since his capture.

What he did know was this: his throat was too sore to speak, ruined from both abuse and lack of water; his body was so mottled that it looked like he had begun rotting, greenish-yellow marks covering almost every inch of his skin; his back shredded by the impromptu whipping session earlier that morning; and he wasn’t sure he could muster a smile, even if informed of the untimely and gruesome death of Valdo Marx.

But, no matter what they threw at him, he would not betray Geralt.

He had made this vow to himself during a quiet moment on (what he guessed was) the second day, that no matter what faced him - be it further torture, mutilation and eventually death - he would not speak a word of the little information he knew.

He may have ruined Geralt’s life, may have annoyed him with his incessant and unwelcome company, but one thing Jaskier could give him now was his undying loyalty, the one thing that no one could take away from him.

They wouldn’t take away his love.

So he breathed steadily as he looked as his hands, tied down firmly to the arms of the chair, taking in every detail of the calloused fingers that made him the famous bard that he was today.

“Last chance. Where is the Witcher”

Jaskier just grinned, the smile bloody and insincere.

“Fucking your mother I would imagine” he croaked, withholding the wince of pain from the strain on his throat, instead widening his grin at the look of anger on the man’s face.

With a growl, the man brought the hammer down heavily on Jaskier’s left ring finger, smiling sickeningly at the bard’s agonised scream.

“Where is he?”

Head fuzzy with pain, Jaskier scowled and spat his blood in the man’s eyes.

The sickening crunch of bone echoed around the small room, Jaskier’s scream ringing out as another two fingers were smashed.

The line of questioning continued until all of his fingers were unrecognisable, the bard humming ‘Fishmonger’s Daughter’ through tears as he tried to regain control of his breathing.

“What a shame” the captor said, fake sympathy swimming in his cold eyes, “Looks like you’re worth even less than you were when we found you. What worth is a bard if he cant play anymore?”

The man pretended to think, tapping his chin thoughtfully, “Of course! A brothel worker!” He paused, tutting again and shaking his head, “No you cant even be that, we’ve made you far too ugly”

Jaskier tried to ignore his words, focusing on his rattling lungs instead, forcing them to inhale and exhale.

Unconsciousness crept forward, the pain finally overwhelming him, Jaskier falling into it’s open arms gladly.

“-cher isn’t coming for him. We’ve had the word out for two weeks and got nothing”

The words drifted in to Jaskier’s cell, the conversation prying him from sleep.

“So what do we do? The bard’s not talking”

“We were meant to give a destination by yesterday”

“So we make one up, blame the bard when it comes back empty”

“… That could work”

“Then I’m guessing we kill him afterwards?”

“Theres no reason to keep him”

“Well-”

“You’re not using army funds to feed just so he can be your personal whore, Cahir would skin you alive if he found out”

Jaskier huffed a laugh at that - the realisation that his worth had finally been reduced to what his father had called him all those decades ago, ‘a worthless whore’, ‘useless to polite society’.

The conversation carried on, though Jaskier’s mind drifted, thoughts racing yet head surprisingly clear. He shifted in his seat, only slightly to the left, wincing as the healing whip wounds on his back pulled open again, the stinging pain keeping him tethered to consciousness.

Not for the first time, he wondered where Geralt was. Safe, that he was sure of, hidden from the greedy eyes of the Nilfgaardian army if their unhappiness was anything to go off of.

Had he found Cirilla yet?

Was Roach okay?

Was he taking proper care of himself?

And - in even his lowest moments - he found himself wondering how Yennefer was.

If she was handling the break-up better than he did.

If she was safe, happy, looked after.

Or maybe, perhaps even back with Geralt. The three of them playing happy families while Jaskier rotted in a cell and waited for a hapless death.

Being on your deathbed gave you a lot of perspective, Jaskier had realised, and he found it hard to even hate Valdo on occasion (until he regained some energy from a piece of stale bread thrown at him and immediately felt disgusted that the thought had even crossed his mind).

As the fog in his brain seemed to seep into his dimming vision, his thoughts returned to Geralt’s eyes.

“Goodnight my love”

The news reached Geralt as they were passing a backwater town. 

“The bard Jaskier - I swear it was! They dragged him out t’wards the Nilfgaard base”

“Tom stop jabbering, they would’a been shouting that from the rooftops if they got ‘im”

Coldness seeped into the Witcher’s bones as the words registered in his brain, his eyes flying to Yennefer. The sorceress was looking at him with pity in her eyes.

“I can try scrying-”

“Please”

Ciri watched in awe as Yennefer set up her equipment that night in their camp, bouncing with barely restrained curiosity at all the new instruments that the mage seemed to summon from nowhere.

The young princess’ enthusiasm calmed Geralt slightly, focusing on her youthful movements instead of the dread that settled over him at the thought of Jaskier’s current situation, guilt hitting him every few minutes as he replayed their last conversation.

‘If life could give me one blessing-’

“He’s in Neunreuth” Yennefer said, looking up with a solemn expression, “in a Nilfgaardian fortress”

“They were right” the Witcher breathed, utterly defeated.

“So we’re going to get him right?” Ciri asked, enthusiasm now dampened by the morose mood emanating from the two adults.

“Of course” 

Yennefer quirked her eyebrow at his firm reply, before nodding in agreement, “We’ll leave first thing tomorrow”

Geralt knew the second he stepped out of the portal that something was wrong.

“He cant be here” he thought aloud, “It’s been abandoned”

Yennefer frowned, her expression telling him everything she refused to say out loud, “He’s here”

“No”

Striding forwards, the Witcher advanced on the old manor house, nose picking up on the scent of Jaskier’s blood the second he reached the front door.

“No!”

Strides turned in to a sprint as he chased the scent, denial still swirling through his brain as he got closer and closer to the muted wildflower scent. 

“Jaskier”

The name fell from his lips as his knees gave out from under him, the sight of his bard’s limp body hanging from the chair punching all the breath from him. The smell of rusted blood was overwhelming, a pool in the corner dating back months.

Geralt sat there, disgusted by himself as he imagined how long Jaskier had waited for him to come and rescue him, how long he had stayed faithful to a monster.

He wasn't worth Jaskier’s life.

He wasn't aware he was crying until Yennefer laid a hand on his shoulder, “Geralt-”

“No” he hissed, struggling to his feet and moving over to the bard, “he cant be dead - he -”

Eyes wild, he turned around to face the sorceress, rising to his full height, “Fix him. I know you can - you did it last time”

“Geralt-”

Anger overtaking him, he pulled Jaskier’s limp body into his arms, unaware of how much his own hands were shaking.

“FIX HIM. YOU NEED TO FIX HIM NOW”

“Geralt stop”

“YOU NEED TO FIX HIM” he shouted, falling to his knees again, cradling the cold body in his arms as he sobbed, “Please fix him, Yen I need - I need you to fix him please”

The woman sighed, brushing a hand over Jaskier’s temple, looking for any sign of life.

“He’s gone"

Geralt’s cries could be heard in the next village over, lasting well into the night.

Not long after, tales of the White Wolf, Princess of Cintra and the Raven Sorceress were spread far and wide, the image of Cahir’s head on a stick engraved in the public’s minds.

[charincharge]

Cruel Summer, Part 6

cruel summer masterlist

AN: Today was ~dramatic~ -- I woke up to learn that someone was posting this fic on AO3 and passing it off as their own. It was a BUMMER, to say the least, and it really threw me off. I haven’t posted fic in a decade, and I was really using this as a fun way to remember how much I loved writing (since doing it professionally can seriously zap the fun out of it). And hearing that someone stole my work made me incredibly upset and feel generally violated. I know it’s just fic, but... I work hard to write it and don’t think it’s too much to ask to receive the credit for it? I hope this chapter doesn’t reflect that because I was really excited for this one! Anyway. TL;DR, I ended up creating an AO3 page, so no one can post FOR me moving forward. I’ve updated my Masterlist page accordingly. And please don’t plagiarize, guys, it’s not cool. Okay. Enough of that negativity. Let’s get back to the important things. Like Rowan.

Rain pelts against Rowan’s window, casting a dark, ominous hue over his bedroom. His first real day off from work, and it’s storming outside, naturally. He’d planned to take it easy and go to the beach, maybe go for a long run. But it looks like that’s not happening now. He knows he’s being punished. This is the universe’s way of intervening and letting him know how shitty he is. Rowan can’t shake the image of Aelin’s hurt face. It is seared into his brain. And there’s only one way to get it out.

Rowan lounges back into his pillows and opens his laptop before typing in Aelin Ashryver into his internet browser. Her Facebook profile pops up immediately, but it’s set to Friends Only, and Rowan definitely isn’t brave enough to add her as a friend. Her Instagram appears next, and Rowan nearly jumps for joy that it’s a public profile.

The first picture is of the back of her head, her blonde hair piled high on top of her head in a messy bun, with tendrils curling around the nape of her neck, overlooking her balcony and the view of the ocean beyond. She’s back, bitches the caption reads, and Rowan can’t help but chuckle. Next is Aelin with her entire family at the head of Ashryver Playland in a picturesque pose with the caption Favorite place with my favorite people (minus @dorhav118 who gets in TOMORROW!!!!). The corners of Rowan’s lips curl downward as his curiosity gets the better of him, and he clicks on Dorian’s profile.

Rowan rolls his eyes at Dorian’s bio: “Hot as a pistol, but cool inside.”

His heart tugs at seeing the first picture. It’s from the pool party the other day, when Aelin was still in her white dress. She’s laughing at something Dorian said, her eyes closed tightly, glass of champagne in her hand, while Dorian smizes into the camera. Reunited and it feels so good <3

“Who kicked your puppy?” Manon asks from the doorway, and Rowan slams his laptop shut.

“No one.”

A wicked grin appears on her face as she stalks into Rowan’s room and slides onto the bed next to him. “I have a pretty good idea.”

Rowan sighs as Manon reaches over and opens the laptop back up, her long nails clacking against the keyboard. “Just as I thought.” She looks Rowan over, from the bags under his eyes to his hair, messy from constantly running his hands through it. “We’re going out.”

Rowan looks out the window at the torrential downpour and gray skies. “Out? In that? Where?”

“I don’t know,” Manon admits, “But I’m not letting you mope and stalk Aelin all day. It’s pathetic, and below you, to be frank. There’s got to be something we can do in this godforsaken town when it rains.”

It turns out there’s not that many options for what to do when it rains in the small beach town. Mostly everything is outdoors or beach oriented. But Manon decides that the aquarium is a good indoor activity, and it happens to be next to a brewery – for when they get bored. The pair Uber there, not wanting to deal with the hassle of worrying about sobering up. If Rowan’s not allowed to mope and be pathetic at home, he’s going to do today right. And do it drunk.

Despite it being one of the few indoor activities available, the aquarium is fairly deserted when Manon and Rowan arrive. It’s dark and damp and cool and strangely soothing, and Rowan lets Manon lead the way. She heads immediately for the reptile room, thrilled to see the alligators and lizards and snakes. Somehow Rowan isn’t surprised by this development.

They branch off into a small Amazon Rainforest room, filled with frogs and fish and even more snakes on low hanging branches, and Rowan nearly jumps out of skin when a large bird caws in his direction.

“I fucking hate birds,” he grumbles as Manon cackles in delight. “Can’t we see… cuter animals? Like, turtles and seals or some shit?”

Manon rolls her eyes and leads him straight to the shark tank. It’s open, so they can lean over it and look at the giant creatures. Rowan grits his teeth, only slightly terrified at the image of the fin cutting through the surface of the water.

“You know what you’re feeling is totally false,” Manon comments casually.

“Huh?” Rowan says, trying to maintain his calm façade.

“Sharks aren’t predators of humans. That’s the Jaws effect in action. It completely changed our perception of sharks and actually sparked a hunting frenzy that has put sharks in danger, even though they were just an important part of the ecosystem. Fuck you, Spielberg.” 

Manon purses her darkly painted lips and twirls her white blonde hair, leaning over the tank further. Rowan shakes his head at his roommate, who looks like she wants to reach into the water and pet the fucking things. He’s never seen her so affected before. 

“Why are you like this?” he asks, and she laughs.

“You’re not thinking about her anymore, though, are you?”

Rowan flicks her off. “I wasn’t.”

“A few more rooms will get you right back to that terrified place and not thinking about her at all. Don’t you worry.” She winks and leads him into an incredibly dark room, which is only lit up with glowing jellyfish. Manon is right, and within a few minutes, Rowan is feeling calm again. He lets the dark and schools of weird underwater creatures soothe him, and after they finish at the aquarium, Rowan is grateful he let Manon drag him out of the house.

“Beer?” she asks, and Rowan nods readily.

“I think I earned it.”

“Shut up, you fucking loved it. Think we should get a fish tank?” she asks, and Rowan shakes his head immediately. Manon is strange enough without tending to creatures from the deep in their apartment.

They brave the rain, realizing they both forgot umbrellas, and make a mad dash down the street. Rain soaks Rowan’s shirt, but he feels light. They duck into the brewery, and Rowan shakes out his hair, spraying water all over Manon, like a wet dog. He’s never seen her look so horrified.

“You’re lucky I set my makeup, so it’s immoveable every day,” she says with narrowed eyes. “First round’s on you, asshole.”

Rowan orders them two beers fairly quickly, despite the brewery being packed with patrons (he guesses this is where everyone goes when it rains). But when he turns around to hand Manon her drink, he’s surprised to see her mid-conversation with the very last person he wants to see.

“Rowan!” Dorian calls him over with a wide smile, and Rowan grimaces as he joins them. “I was just introducing myself to your stunning roommate,” Dorian says, and Manon rolls her eyes. But Rowan knows she’s beaming internally with the praise. Manon knows she’s beautiful and doesn’t let anyone forget it, despite her lack of interest in men.

“Uh, hey, Dorian, right?” Rowan says, pretending like he wasn’t just browsing the man’s Instagram profile merely hours ago.

Dorian laughs heartily. “Rowan, come on. We’re friends. Any friend of Aelin’s is a friend of mine.” He grins again, and Rowan can’t help but stare at his incredibly white teeth. He wonders if he whitens them. He must, because no one’s teeth are that naturally white. Or straight.

“Come sit with us!” Dorian points to their table where Aelin sits with the same two people from last night.

“Sure!” Manon says, the same time Rowan says “NO!” emphatically.

“Come on,” Dorian pleads. “We have a big table, and the place is packed. You’ll be lucky to find standing room otherwise. Please, Aelin would be horrified if I let you leave without saying hi.”

Rowan’s stomach churns, but he feels trapped. He can’t say no. “Lead the way,” he says, and Dorian smiles another blinding smile.

“Great.”

He leads them to their table, and to say that Aelin looks shocked to see Rowan approach would be an understatement.

“Look who I found!” Dorian exclaims, gesturing to Rowan and Manon, who stand next to the table awkwardly. “Chaol, Nesryn – these are two of Aelin’s friends, Rowan and Manon.”

The brunette dude, Chaol, gives Rowan a tight smile and short head nod, but the woman, Nesryn, stands and shakes both their hands politely.

Rowan and Manon slide into the two empty seats, and of course Rowan is directly across from Aelin. She looks at him curiously as he takes a large sip of his beer.

“So, how do you know Aelin?” Chaol asks, breaking the awkward silence.

“Rowan works at the park,” Dorian explains. “And Chaol is Aelin’s ex-boyfriend and my other best friend,” Dorian chuckles.

“It’s not as awkward as it sounds,” Chaol says with a laugh.

Aelin squints her eyes and looks at Chaol. “Mmm… it kind of is.”

Manon snorts. “You’re a handful, aren’t you?” she says, leaning toward Aelin, and Aelin flips her golden hair over her shoulder and shrugs.

“Two handfuls, thank you very much,” she says and feels herself up, showing how her chest spills over her hand, too much for one to grasp fully.

“Aelin!” Chaol chides, and Rowan can feel heat creep up the back of his neck as he stares at Aelin’s ample cleavage as she lifts it up.

Dorian cackles, his laugh piercing through the room as he tips his head back. He reminds Rowan of Manon when he does it, so amused with others’ discomfort.

Rowan glances back at Aelin’s chest, and when he looks up, she’s staring back at him, one brow raised in question. He immediately finishes the rest of his beer, downing it in one gulp.

“I need more beer. Anyone else?” Rowan asks, and to his surprise, Chaol stands and offers to come with him.

The pair stand side by side at the bar, waiting for their drinks, and Rowan is unsure of what to say to his current crush’s former paramour.

“So…” Chaol begins, and Rowan cocks an eyebrow at him as he leans against the bar. “You were at The Mason Jar last night,” Chaol says, naming the dive bar where he’d met up with the guys the night prior. “Aelin booked it to the bar when she saw you,” Chaol continues. “You guys, like, a thing?” he asks, curiosity seeping through his anything but innocent question.

“What?” Rowan says, bowled over. “No. Uh. Not at all.” Rowan is more than flustered. “I thought she and Dorian were…”

And at that Chaol tips his head back and guffaws. A deep, full-body belly laugh, erupts from his mouth. “Dorian?” he gapes, his brown eyes wide with disbelief. “And Aelin?” He shakes his head. “No. No no no. Never.” Chaol pauses. “They kissed once when they were thirteen, but other than that. No. Dorian is her person. Which is why it could never work between us, even though we tried for five fucking years,” he sighs and scratches the back of his neck uncomfortably. “But, no. They’re definitely not.” Chaol looks at Rowan, and Rowan feels like he’s seeing through him completely. Chaol smiles softly. “You really thought? Hmmm.”

Rowan is stunned. Seriously stunned. He has no idea how to react. Or how to process this new information. Dorian and Aelin are not dating? They’re just… friends? So, Aelin is available? And has been flirting with Rowan for the past week, and Rowan just shot her down? Rowan rubs his forehead with his hand, which he thinks is the only thing stopping him from banging his head against the bar in shame. Rowan is an idiot.

An idiot who needs to apologize to Aelin. Immediately.

“This was, uh… enlightening,” Rowan says as he accepts his drink from the bartender, and Chaol can’t help but laugh again.

“Did you do something stupid?” he asks cheekily.

“So stupid,” Rowan says, shaking his head.

“Yeah, she was kind of in a mood after she came back from talking to you,” Chaol says, and Rowan groans. Chaol holds up his hands in surrender. “Just trying to help!”

Rowan turns to him fully and examines the brunette with his concerned brown eyes and has to ask, “Not to be rude, but why?”

“Because Aelin deserves to be happy,” he says resolutely. “And I kept her from being happy for a really long time because I’m a selfish bastard,”Chaol admits way too freely. “But, how could I not?”

“You still love her,” Rowan says, and Chaol shrugs.

“I think once you love Aelin you always love her. For better or worse.”

Rowan motions to the table. “I’m gonna…”

Chaol smirks. “Yeah, get to it.”

But back at the table, Aelin and Dorian are nowhere to be found. Manon sighs, obvious to Rowan’s distress.

“She went to sign up for karaoke.”

“Oh no…” Rowan groans.

“Oh, yes,” Aelin says, bounding back to the table, exuberant.

“Don’t worry. I signed you up, too, Rowan,” Dorian says with a grin.

Aelin frowns, her eyes filled with apology. “I told him not to.”

Dorian rolls his eyes. “And I told her that if Rowan wants to hang with us this summer, he’s gotta get initiated.”

“It’s fine,” Rowan says, smiling in what he hopes is a nice and not creepy way to Aelin. She looks momentarily confused, but she doesn’t have time to think about it because she’s called up to do her song with Dorian almost immediately.

The pair sing “Shallow” flawlessly. And now that Rowan knows they aren’t dating, he can see their friendship all too clearly. Aelin and Dorian love each other fiercely; their passion rages through everything they do, but it lacks a spark. It’s platonic, Rowan finally realizes. He’s been such a fucking fool.

Rowan’s name gets called next, and his stomach is is knots, wondering what song they’ve chosen for him. When he gets to the front, though, he nearly laughs. They’ve chosen a song he could sing with his eyes completely closed.

Shorty get down, good lord… baby’s got ‘em up all over town…

Strictly biz she don’t play around, cover much ground, got game by the pound

Getting paid is her forte

Each and every day, true player way

I can’t get her out of my mind

Think about the girl all the time…

He knows the song is comeuppance for calling Aelin friendly last night, but he crushes it nonetheless, singing his heart out, performing for the masses. When Rowan finishes, the crowds go wild, applauding like crazy.

He sees Aelin bolt from the table before he can get back off the stage, and decides to follow her. She heads down the long hall back to the bathrooms, and his long stride helps him catch up quickly.

“Aelin!” he shouts, and he’s grateful that she pauses, but her arms are crossed over her chest, a clear defensive stance that tells him to keep his distance.

“What?” she snips, obviously pissed. They haven’t actually interacted with each other since last night, and Rowan knows she has every right to be angry with him. “I thought you wanted nothing to do with me? What are you even doing here, Rowan?”

“I’m an idiot,” he blurts out, and he can see Aelin’s face morph from pissed to amused. She bites her lip to hold back her smile.

“I mean, I know that, but why do you think that?” she says, her blue gold eyes glowing with challenge. He takes a step closer to her, and she backs up until she can’t back up anymore, pressed against the side of the hall. He pauses his approach, not wanting to make her feel cornered. If she wants space between them, he’ll let her have space.

“I was so out of line last night,” Rowan apologizes. “You were right. You were just trying to be friendly. I was being a dick. I thought…” Rowan pauses. He doesn’t want to be this tongue tied, but she flusters him, and he can’t get anything out how he wants to. “It’s not harassment when I want to be touched. By you.”

Aelin’s eyes narrow. She looks suspicious as she examines him. 

“I knew I was good at karaoke, but damn, I didn’t anticipate this kind of turnaround…” Aelin smirks and takes a breath, and Rowan risks taking another step forward. She holds up a hand and presses it against Rowan’s chest. He didn’t realize how close he’d gotten to her. Warmth from her palm seeps through his shirt, and he breathes heavily. She looks up into his eyes with curiosity.

“Seriously, what changed your mind?” she asks.

“If I say Chaol’s name right now it’s just going to make things weird,” Rowan says, dipping his head slightly, and he can’t help but notice her tilt her head up to him. He zeroes in on her lips, leaning down to get even closer.

“You’re right,” she says with a soft laugh. “You were still a jerk.” Her eyes flick to his lips, and Rowan darts his tongue out to wet them. 

“I know,” he breathes softly. “And I mentioned I was an idiot, right?”

Aelin nods and leans in to close the gap between them, the charge, the magnetism between them now palpable, strumming through Rowan’s body, pulling him downward. 

“Hey guysss,” Dorian drawls as he walks past them quickly, and Rowan straightens up suddenly. Aelin darts under his arm, freeing herself from being backed into the wall. He sees her take a large breath. “I was wondering where you’d gone.” Dorian looks between them, and then grabs his stomach. “I have to pee so bad. Don’t mind me!” He continues down the hall. “As you were!”

Rowan goes to finish his apology, but the moment is gone, and so is Aelin. He needs a moment to compose himself, and when he makes it back to the table, she’s already deep in conversation with Manon and Chaol and Nesryn about the latest karaoke performance. Apparently in his absence someone murdered “Bohemian Rhapsody” and not in a good way. But Aelin acknowledges Rowan’s presence with a flash of a smile, despite not breaking her conversation.

Manon side eyes Rowan suspiciously, and Rowan brushes her off. He’s not ready to talk about whatever just did or did not happen in that hallway.

Their chatter is aimless but pleasant as afternoon bleeds into evening, and eventually they all decide to disperse and head home. Rowan never gets a chance to speak to Aelin alone again, but when he and Manon are in their Uber heading home, his phone flashes with a Friend Request from Aelin Ashryver.

“Hmm,” Manon hums pointedly as Rowan bites back a smile. He spends the rest of the night in bed, scrolling through Aelin’s social media. As he’d originally planned to do with his day. Only now, he doesn’t feel as mopey or pathetic. He lets the rain, still relentless, lull him to sleep.

~*~*~*~*~*~

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[joonsdiary]

the proposal

↳ part one of the: (not) the love of my life series

pairing. ceo!seokjin x hotelier!reader (female) genre. arranged marriage au // humour with a dash of fluff and sprinkle of angst (mayhaps future smut?) word count. 4,8k summary. after losing ownership of your hotel to the satan-spawned ceo-to-be, kim seokjin, you are forced by the powers that be (your parents) into marrying him. you agree under the assurance that you won’t be out of job, but with the title of manager instead of owner. as it turns out, he has other plans and approaches you with a proposal that’s hard to refuse.

note. a cliché, overused trope? check. a series with (maybe) no plot and is just about jin as a billionaire ceo? check. this was initially supposed to be a sequel, but i couldn’t follow it up with the same ambience and mood, so i decided to leave the drabble [as a standalone] and write a spin-off instead. this has been in my drafts for the longest time, so i’m excited to share to you a series that literally nobody asked for.

warning-but-not-really. not all corporate ceos are as chilled out as jin will be portrayed here. may give you high expectations of literally some of the worst people on this planet lmao also purely self-indulgent! read at your own risk tbh

the proposal | the first date | the ceo’s keeper | the engagement

The premise was simple.

Get married so you can keep running your hotel business or refuse and lose everything to the man your parents have personally hand-picked to become the owner.

Scratch that.

The man your parents sold your hotel to, thus making him the newly appointed owner.

Choosing the latter and having your freedom would mean giving up your hard-earned company to the lousy billionaire’s first-born son, who happened to own half the hotels in metropolitan Seoul.

The Kims.

Notorious for their enormous amount of wealth, their class, and having three strapping young men for sons who knew nothing else, but privilege handed to them in a silver platter.

Despite growing up in a well-off family, you’ve always taught yourself that independence and hard work was the key to success. You distanced yourself as much as you could from your parents’ money, stuck it out for four years in college, and graduated with a degree. Running the hotel full time while attempting to finish your master’s in business administration part-time had been the theme for the past year. Until your parents dropped the bomb on you.

Words like, do you really think you had full ownership of that run-down hotel of yours and we had to sell, or we’ll go under had been thrown around. As if keeping the secret of having a huge amount of debt would make you feel better about seeing your hotel assimilated into Kim Hotels. Not only would you lose ownership, but you knew that you were bound to get fired, if not demoted. It usually came with the change of proprietor.

Conveniently enough, the Kims had other plans. Their current CEO, Seokjin’s father, agreed to let you keep working as the hotel manager instead of the owner, which is honestly miles better to you than being jobless. But it came with a hefty price: you were to marry their oldest son, Kim Seokjin. They drove a hard bargain, and you found yourself agreeing. You loved the hotel more than anything you’ve ever owned; having to pour your heart and soul into making it worth being proud of. And you were. That’s why hearing your parents say that it was in debt felt gut wrenching.

Initially, you tried to get a hold of him, hoping you could convince him to re-think the situation. You thought perhaps the media had been wrong about him, and all the talks of him being a calculating corporate shark was a lie. Maybe he would let you work as the manager without having to marry him. But the COO of Kim Hotels refused to meet with you, despite hearing from your parents that he’d been “more than willing” to be married to you.

You scoffed at their baseless statement. Seokjin had a reputation for taking women to bed one night before leaving them to dust by the next morning. As if selling his soul to the devil in order to be worth billions of dollars wasn’t enough; of course, he was sleeping around as well. You weren’t one to judge anybody’s lifestyle choices, but you were sure that someone in that calibre wouldn’t agree to be wed to a person they hardly knew just because. There was something in your gut that told you there was more to the agreement than a simple arranged marriage.

Or maybe the feeling in your gut was due to the bad pasta you had.

“Good evening, Ms. Hwang.”

You’re greeted by Mr. Park, the doorman as soon as you enter the lobby, cradling a piping hot tea you hoped would alleviate the stomach cramps you were having. His smile gave away his old age, wrinkles dotting the corner of his eyes and the lines in his cheeks. You returned the gesture.

“How was your dinner?”

“Ugh, don’t remind me,” you laughed softly, shrugging away your coat without spilling your drink. “I’m never eating out ever again. Please tell me Yoongi is in.”

He nodded, gesturing to the entrance not too far from the lobby. You bid him good night and head to the restaurant in the hotel, which was sparse with customers. Friday nights were usually teeming with life and excitement, but unfortunately business had been relatively slow all week. The worry pooled deep in your stomach – as if you needed any more ratification that your hotel needed to be bought, or you’ll close down.

“Yoongi! I need your cure-all soup,” you called out as soon as you sat on the barstool, propping your tote on the table. Jungkook waved at you from the far end of the bar, concocting a drink for the eager gentleman waiting in front of him. Yoongi popped his head out from the kitchen’s double doors to scowl at you but was met with your beaming smile.

He returned several minutes later with your request and you quietly thank him.

“Bad date?” he asked, wiping his palms over his well-worn apron. Jungkook had inched closer by this time, mindlessly wiping the area beside you.

You nodded. “And terrible food. I should’ve just asked him to take me here to Grigio instead.”

Yoongi raised his brows, but a grin was threatening to burst from his lips. “Why didn’t you?”

“He insisted on going to that posh new restaurant that just opened last week. Said it took months to book and he couldn’t just cancel on a whim,” you rolled your eyes, carefully blowing cold air into your steaming soup.

“This is why I told you to stop looking around,” Yoongi leaned into the counter, studying your expression.

“It’s cuffing season,” you joked. “Blame social norms for my behaviour.”

He gave you an impassive stare, before sighing. “You’re literally cuffed already.” He said, followed by a quiet, “I still can’t believe you’re getting married soon.”

You waved your right hand nonchalantly before lifting the spoon to your lips. You moaned as soon as the flavour filled your senses.

“Did you know you’re the best chef ever?”

“It’s just chicken noodle soup,” he said drily.

“Exactly! The simplest meal yet you manage to bring out so many spices at once.” He rolled his eyes at your attempt to boost his ego. Either way it was true; for you, nothing beat Yoongi’s cooking, no matter how simple he thought the meal was.

You forgo the tea and asked Jungkook for a bottle of white wine. “Nothing fancy — Les Capriades is fine. I heard they came in last month, and I have yet to try them.”

He nodded at your instructions before disappearing off to the back to find your drink.

“Stop avoiding the topic, Y/N,” Yoongi rested his chin in the palm of his hand.

“I’m not avoiding anything,” you stated confidently, yet you couldn’t meet his gaze. “The devil incarnate himself refuses to see me. I guess I’ll have to meet him at the altar.”

“Three weeks from now,” Yoongi said, almost exasperated.

“Until then, I’ll enjoy my freedom.”

“What freedom?” Yoongi scoffed, rounding the table to slide into the seat next to you. Jungkook returned with your promised bottle and your eyes beamed with excitement before quietly thanking him. “You didn’t even date around before any of this marriage circus happened.”

You agreed with the “circus” part and ignored the indirect jab. Besides not having a say in any of the planning for your wedding, your supposed fiancé refused to introduce himself when you tried to reach out multiple times.

Okay, perhaps it wasn’t multiple times. You called his office when your parents broke the news to you a week ago, but his assistant said he was busy with a meeting and that you should call back. You didn’t, and that was the end of it. You’ve been putting off trying again, but it’s been a week and he hasn’t contacted you back either.

Maybe it was mutual disdain; if one of you was testing the other to break, you didn’t want the first to be you. It already felt undignified to be marrying someone for the sake of keeping a semblance of ownership to your hotel, so you weren’t about to grovel and demand to be spoken to when it seemed like he wasn’t willing to spare you a second of his time.

Yoongi chatted for a bit before he had to go back to work, so you were left to pull out your laptop from your tote. For the next few hours you immersed yourself into finances, staring at the excel spreadsheet displayed on the screen far longer than was medically allowed. Surely, you’ll go blind before you see your hotel overcome the negative deficit you were in.

“See you tomorrow, Ms. Hwang,” Jungkook thrummed his fingers on the table as he passed by. You looked up in time to see him mime something unintelligible. Your brows raised in confusion.

“Your glasses,” he laughed quietly, fingers hovering close to your cheek. You mumbled a quiet oh, before pushing the rim higher until it settled snugly against your nose bridge.

“Thanks.” You sighed, tipping your head to one side. After feeling the satisfying pop! you turned back to Jungkook with a grin. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

You slumped back to your work as soon as Jungkook was out of sight. Glancing at the clock on the corner of your laptop, it blinked 00:37, which automatically caused you to yawn. Yoongi should be out soon, so you willed yourself to stand up and prop the close sign by the entrance.

From where you stood, you could see the lobby clearly, as well as the spinning doors of the hotel entrance. A few patrons trickled in, no doubt coming in from their busy day, and filed sluggishly to the elevators where it would take them up their floors.

That was the most fulfilling part of being a hotelier to you. The satisfaction of giving people a comfortable stay, whether they were mere tourists or locals wanting a getaway from their normal life. It certainly isn’t as posh and sleek as the Kim Hotel with their towering glass buildings and boring black, white, and grey colour palettes. But what you had was something you were proud to consider your home, with the vibrant earth tones of the walls and furniture, as well as the rich velvet tapestry draped along the ornate windows. High ceiling chandeliers peppered the lobby, casting an ambience of warmth and security without lacking luxury.

“‘Night, Y/N.” Yoongi clasped your shoulder, startling you out of your mini daydream. “Stop using my restaurant as your office, will you?”

You mustered a small grin. “Bye, Yoongles. Drive safe.”

Yoongi turned to you as his face contorted violently. “I hate that nickname.”

“Love you too!” You called out as he exited through the revolving door before placing your hand down with a sigh. Back to work. You were about to turn and go back to your forgotten laptop when the door welcomed in another guest.

With bated breath you watched the man stalk towards you, eyeing you dangerously as if you were his prey. His midnight black suit made him look slim but highlighted his broad shoulders all the same. You were arrested at the spot, unable to look away and felt as if you’ve been robbed of oxygen. The more he stepped closer, the more unclear your thoughts became.

It’s not as if you hadn’t seen the man. He often appeared on several business magazines — gossip tabloids more so. Yet there was something different about seeing him in person, in front of you, in your hotel.

No. His hotel.

“Ms. Hwang. I was hoping to find you here.”

You blinked up at him, not trusting your voice to form words under such immense pressure. His usually slicked back ebony hair is more mussed; a day’s worth of stress was evident in his restless feature.

When you didn’t reply, he took it upon himself to study you from head to toe, and your body went rigid. Your long, honey-coloured hair had been tied up in a lazy bun and glasses framed your face. You didn’t bother changing out of your mini black dress from your date earlier, whose thin straps clung onto your shoulders for dear life.

You squirmed uncomfortably, finding a small ounce of strength to wrap your hands protectively around yourself. “What are you doing here, Mr. Kim?”

“Please,” he rolled his eyes, supple lips bending upwards for a grin. “Call me Seokjin. Mr. Kim is my father.”

And with that, he welcomed himself in the threshold of your restaurant.

Technically, it’s his restaurant now, too.

You let your anger simmer for a bit before turning to follow him.

“You didn’t answer my question,” you declared. It was hard to keep your annoyance down when he had showed up unannounced after ignoring your existence for a whole week.

He slid next to the seat you had claimed yours, and you almost tripped in your heels as you followed, immediately snapping your laptop shut. There was no new information he could have garnered from looking at the finances of the hotel, as he’s probably aware of them. But the thought of him snooping around made you feel queasy.

“I wanted to see what had my father so enamoured that he’d actually buy this…” he trailed off, waving his hand dismissively, “…hotel?”

You hated the underlying judgement in his tone of voice. You had also heard rumours that he’s unabashedly forward and hard to deal with, on top of all the other rumours that plagued him. So far, all the boxes in the checklist were proving to be true.

“It’s quaint. Not at all what I expected.” His gaze studied you momentarily, and you can tell he wanted to say more but he smartly held himself back. Good. You don’t know what you would do if he strung one criticism after another.

“Well, you’ve seen it. You can kindly screw off now.”

Seokjin seemed taken aback for a second, but his surprise didn’t linger. He leaned back on the stool and swiveled forward before pointing at the shelves lined with alcohol.

“I’ll have a whiskey, neat.”

In an attempt to ignore his ridiculous demand, you powered up your laptop once more. No way in hell would you let him step all over you, not even when he owned the hotel where you now stood. “You have very capable legs and arms. I’m sure you can whip one up yourself.”

Was this man joking? Granted, you know your way behind the bar since you had the privilege to work as a bartender for a few years during your college tenure. But that doesn’t mean he’s welcomed here to treat you as if you were a subservient of his. Which, semantics aside, you were, though that’s beside the point. But if he made an effort to come down here and order you around like a scullery maid in an attempt to intimidate you or put you in your place, then he was barking up the wrong tree.

“I was told you have terrific hospitality. I guess they were mistaken.”

Not for the likes of you, I don’t. You rolled your eyes, not bothering with an actual reply.

Seokjin maneuvered off his suit jacket and unbuttoned his cufflinks before he rolled his sleeves up meticulously. He then rounded the bar and began grabbing materials with familiarity, not stopping to ask where anything was located. You watched in awe from the corner of your eyes, attempting to be discreet.

“Want one?” he gave you a slanted gaze.

You wrinkled your nose in disagreement and raised your wine glass.

“A refill, then?”

Pressing your lips firmly together, you gave him a defiant headshake.

The mild shock of seeing him traipsing behind the bar had rendered you absolutely mute. The fact that he knew where everything was piqued your interest. Was it an outcome of years of experience as a habitual drinker? Or did he often just randomly raid bars, hence his extensive knowledge of their layout? You didn’t want to know, but at the same time you did.

It took him a while to find a coaster before settling back to the spot beside you. Typing away at your laptop, you refused to give him even an ounce of attention despite his attention solely being yours. The silence that ensued was more uncomfortable than anything you’ve experienced.

Suddenly, you were all too aware of your crooked posture and your body snapped, straightening your shoulders rigidly. It felt stupid, but necessary for the sake of your sanity to keep your façade. Although it crumbled ever so slightly when Seokjin laughed beside you.

“I didn’t mean to make you feel tense,” his voice was languid and inviting.

You steeled yourself, refusing to be lulled into a trance by his intoxicating presence. “What did you really come here for, Kim Seokjin?”

“She speaks!” he exclaimed, clearly amused. You turned to give him an impassive stare. “Do I need a reason to visit my fiancée?”

His statement caught you by surprise, your poor heart bearing the brunt of suddenly having to pump more oxygen than usual. It brought warmth to your cheeks and you allowed yourself to fall into the fantasy of marrying the most eligible bachelor in all of Seoul. The fantasy, however, was short-lived as his wink broke the spell you were under.

“Don’t worry, this will be strictly business,” his back straightened up on cue. You tried and subsequently failed not to watch the way his deft fingers moved to loosen up his necktie. He then slightly deflated with a sigh, before grabbing his drink and taking a sip.

For courage, perhaps? It brought a small amount of accomplishment to know that you might have The Kim Seokjin nervous before you.

“It’s about the wedding, which you know is coming up soon.”

This was it. The topic you’ve been narrowly avoiding for the past week suddenly poured on you all at once like a bucket of ice-cold water. It wasn’t the most refreshing way of waking you up to reality, but it got the job done.

“I hope you aren’t getting cold feet now, Kim,” he grins at your attempt at humour.

“I apologize for not getting back to you sooner, by the way. My secretary said you tried to get a hold of me.” You remembered the woman’s monotone voice on the other end of the phone call. Part of the reason why you were reluctant to call back was due to nervousness from hearing her apathetic voice.

You shrugged in response, finding him less of an asshole than you had previously. Was your expectation of decency so low that you found anything remotely human he did to be an act of chivalry on his part?

Yes. Yes, it was.

“I tried calling because I wanted to know if I would be able to talk you out of this deal.”

Seokjin was visibly surprised by your candor.

“Oh yeah, and how would that have played out?”

You shifted uncomfortably in your seat. Surely, it was too late to take anything back, so you tossed all caution out of the window. He might as well hear your piece.

“The ceremony preferably cancelled. The Hwang Hotel back to its rightful owner, as if the whole thing hadn’t occurred in the first place.”

Seokjin regarded you with amusement in his eyes. The warm lights of the Grigio soften his rugged features, making it seem like he was glowing. You came to understand how he had the whole country enamoured by him. He was distressingly handsome.

You gagged at where your thoughts ended up and leaned back a little, terrified of feeling too intimate with the man who had claimed your hard-earned success for himself. The hotel means more to you in ways you know Seokjin will never be able to relate. A man who, with a little twirl of his fingers, would be making more money than you could ever hope to imagine. They say no hard work goes unpaid, but for him it was probably akin to: No hard work, but I get paid either way. How comfortable must it be to sit atop that domineering tower of his, overlooking the city he practically owns?

“And what do I get out of that possible scenario?” he began after a brief pause.

You refused to wilt under his imposing gaze. With a confident voice, you said, “The satisfaction of doing a noble deed.”

He barked out a laugh, tilting his head back in obvious enjoyment. You didn’t share the sentiment as you sighed before removing your prescription glasses. Perhaps hoping for the impossible was futile, after all.

“Look, I don’t care about this little passion project of yours,” Seokjin waved his hands around condescendingly, and you felt a familiar pang of anger surging from your chest. “And you’re lucky my father swooped in to purchase this hotel before you went bankrupt.”

“Thank you for the constant reminder,” you deadpanned, but he ignored you and continued. The gall of the man to show up and ridicule you made you irate. I take that back, he’s still an asshole in every aspect imaginable.

“To be frank, I think we’re both in a pinch here. You want your hotel back, and I’m willing to grant you that tiny little wish.”

You perked up; interest piqued. But you felt an ultimatum coming, so you squashed all hope arising from his statement. There was always a catch.

“My parents have been grooming me to become CEO ever since I learned how to walk. For me, acquiring the position is a no-brainer.”

“But?” you offered, and his grin widened.

“But lately my father refuses to hand me the reins. He’s been wanting to retire, but every year he keeps sticking it out. Then I unceremoniously learned my engagement with you. All of a sudden, his mood shifted, and his plans for retirement began piling up.”

Your brows creased in confusion, unable to see how you fit into all of this.

“My reputation precedes me, so I’m sure you’re aware of what I’m insinuating here.”

Something clicks in your mind, and you willed yourself to hold back a scoff.

“Enlighten me, Kim,” you propped your chin against your palm. If you were going to agree to this, you might as well have a little fun for yourself.

“My parents aren’t amused by my…” Seokjin trailed off.

“Decision to debauch half the women’s population of Seoul?” you offered, unable to hold yourself back. You grinned triumphantly; he had set himself up for that moral beating.

“I was going to say my inability to settle down, but sure, we’ll go with that,” Seokjin was unfazed, much to your disappointment. “He hadn’t explicitly said it but seeing the way everything is being handled so quickly, I can tell it’s what he wants. For me to get married; then maybe he’ll consider giving me the position.”

“And you didn’t oppose?” you asked incredulously. It seemed at the moment you were the one who is prepped to lose the most. What if it wasn’t you who the Kims chose for their son? Were you supposed to just accept defeat and give up your hotel?

“Oh, trust me, I vehemently opposed,” you nodded at his statement. At least you agreed on something. That was a start. “But that’s partly the reason why I’m here.”

“What more can we possibly do? We’re basically left with no option,” you grumbled, turning back to your laptop. For you, there was no way around this. Both your families have decided for you, so you have to either fall in line or risk losing your business.

“What if I tell you we can go back to our normal lives a few months from now? We won’t be married to each other. You’ll have your hotel back, and I’ll still be the CEO.”

You inadvertently leaned towards him, eager to know where the conversation was going.

“We just have to convince my parents and yours, as well as the board of directors of Kim Hotels and the public alike how we’re hopelessly in love with each other.”

Your mouth formed into a visible scowl, forehead creasing in confusion. You searched for hints of frivolity, waiting for him to say just kidding! at any moment. But his stoic face told you that he was being serious.

“And we’re doing this because…?” your patience had worn thin, expression marred by weariness and fatigue. You had a lot to get back to; you didn’t have time for silly games.

“It will make the divorce more believable.”

You paused, the gears in your brain turning. The agreement your parents told you about hadn’t involved a divorce; so, you were curious as to where Seokjin was going with his idea.

He was offering you an out; a way to get out of his family’s mess unscathed. You’ll have your only prized possession, and he can go back to sleeping with as many people as he wanted while retaining his coveted position. The proposition was too good to be true.

“What’s the catch?” your lips pursed, and you found yourself considering his ludicrous proposal.

“No catch,” he holds his two hands up in surrender, the corner of his mouth forming a smirk. You eyed him with suspicion.

“Just that you give effort into this whole thing. Make my father and the board believe enough to think I’ve ‘cleaned up my act’,” he paused to roll his eyes, “so that they’ll hand me the position without question. I promise you full ownership of the Hwang Hotel, without debt, as soon as we separate.”

While your parents’ original plan had been to marry you off entirely (which you did not want at all) Seokjin was sensible enough to figure out that you had no desires of tying the knot to someone you barely knew. He probably shared the sentiment, hence his proposal.

“This doesn’t make sense though,” you said pointedly. “Wouldn’t they find out about your motives when we divorce? And our parents technically arranged this, so they’ll be mad — I’m sure yours will be more than mine.”

You’re all in for finding a loophole in this whole arrangement, but you’re not sure you’ll agree if it will give you more problems in the long run.

He shrugged, unconcerned. “They can question it all they want. But like I said, if we make it believable enough, we can always reason that we ‘fell out of love’.”

In an attempt to alleviate a developing headache, your hands slowly massaged your temples. The information was a lot to hand, but no matter how many scenarios you played in your head, they all seemed to have the finale you wanted. Regardless of what happened within the upcoming months, you were going to get your hotel back.

“If you’re really that worried, let’s just say I cheated,” Seokjin’s words snapped you out of your muddled thoughts.

Your eyebrows creased in confusion. “Wouldn’t that be worse for you?”

“The public already thinks I’m a man-whore,” he said wryly. “The board is not going to kick me out of office for something tedious like a divorce once I’m CEO. And I’m sure I can reason it out with my parents when the time comes.”

You laced your fingers together, hoping to wring the concerns away. There was no use in overthinking the situation; it certainly beats staying miserably married to someone you barely know.

You let out a shaky breath, before mustering the confidence to say, “Fine.”

“Great, I knew you’d be reasonable.” He flicked his wrist to look at his watch, gaze composed despite the tiredness in his eyes. “I’ll have my secretary e-mail you a written agreement.”

“Great,” you mimicked his deadpan tone. Gone was the casual Seokjin who paced around behind the bar with much familiarity. This was the COO of Kim Hotels Seokjin; precise and straight to the point.

Better get used to that.

“Thanks for the drink, future wife,” he slid off the barstool with poise, the distance between you and him closing ever so slightly. He smelled like pine and cedar, with a hint of citrus; it was enough for you to suddenly sober up, unaware you were inebriated, to begin with.

“No need. You forced your way in, anyway.” You said dismissively, pretending to switch tabs on your screen. Where was that random website you were looking at earlier?

With a quiet laugh, he turned to leave. You listened to his rhythmic steps and perked up when he paused.

“See you tomorrow, fiancée,” he said without turning.

“Tomorrow?” you tried not to give away the surprise in your voice.

“We have to start going on dates to convince them that we’re serious about this, right? Pick you up at eight, sharp.”

With a wave of his right hand, he stalked off towards the exit, leaving you alone in the restaurant.

Suddenly, the premise didn’t appear so simple. You reached for your glass of wine and finished the rest of your courage drink in one gulp.

NEXT ; 

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