#but shadow (and all of my friend's ocs for that matter) remind me of the good times.

[smoooothoperator]

untouchable

21: Dear Reader

Lando Norris x OC (Violet Sinclair)

same group friend, unrequited love, acquittances to lovers, ski trip, love triangle, life as lovers

Words: 2.7k

a/n: so this is the end! There will be an epilogue and if course extra chapters, you can ask whatever you want to know about Violet and Lando. I'm so so so happy I came with the idea of this story and I feel proud of how it went, of the welcome of you guys, and as well as how the little idea of a ski trip turned into this! Thank you so so much to everyone that supported, I owe you the world❤️

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If you ask someone how it feels being unconscious, they will probably answer you that it feels like a nightmare, a deep dream that no matter how hard you try you won't wake up. You can hear everyone's voices like an echo in your mind, mixed with the beeping of the monitors

My mind repeated all the time the last thing I saw before passing out, a bright pair of white lights coming closer to me. I was in an eternal nightmare, hearing his voice begging me to open my eyes. But I couldn't do it.

But I always felt his hand on mine, his lips on my knuckles, how he brushed my hair with his fingers. That was the only thing that kept me at ease, that made me feel I wasn't alone.

But the day when I woke up, when I could finally do what he asked, moving my finger, he wasn't there. 

When I opened my eyes, I didn't find his blue ones. I found a curly hair next to me, but it wasn't his.

“Lando” I mumbled as well as I could, feeling how sore and dry my throat was. 

“Oh, God” 

Pietra and Max got up looking at me, watching how I looked around confused. 

“Lando? Where…”

He left? He really left me? 

“He had to leave” Max said, grabbing a bottle of water and putting a straw on it, helping me drink it. “He will come soon, okay? Don't worry”

I sipped the water, thirstier than I thought I was. But still, there were so many questions around my mind right now.

“Where am I?” I whisper. “I… What happened?”

Pietra and Max took a deep breath looking at each other. They told me everything, from the moment I got out of my apartment to go pick up the moment Lando received the call while he was streaming, they told me about them going to the hospital and Lando nearly screaming at the receptionist and how relieved they were when the doctor told them about the surgery.

“He never left” Pietra smiled weakly. “We had to force him to eat something, sending him reminders about his lunch and dinner”

“But… What about his training?” I mumbled confused.

“He will ask for a pair of weeks more” Max sighed. “Pato will drive for him in the first race after the break, just to make sure that you recover”

“But…”

“He won't leave you alone, Violet”

I took a deep breath and smiled weakly, closing my eyes for some seconds until the door opened.

When he walked in I barely recognized him. His curls were barely done, messy and falling on his eyes. He let his facial hair grow a little. His eyes weren't shining as always, and the bags under his eyes were there too.

When I said his name I could see the shock in his eyes, as well as fear and regret.

“You are awake” he mumbled, walking towards my bed, swallowing thickly. 

“Mhm” I nodded, looking at him, reaching for his hand.

“And I wasn't here”

I took a deep breath and looked into his eyes. Something in them is not there anymore, I can see a shadow that is making his smile not reach to his blue eyes.

“But you are here now” I whisper, holding his hand with my hands. “That's everything that matters”

I saw Pietra and Max getting up, walking out of the room and leaving us alone. 

I saw Lando's bottom lip trembling, making him trap it between his teeth. His eyes were getting wetter while he pressed his forehead against mine. 

“He did it, Vi… Harry did this” he whispered.

Something inside of me knew it. Something really deep inside of me knew that he was the reason for the crash.  

Lando sat on the bed next to me, grabbing his phone and showing me the recording, holding my hand while we listened to it.

“I don't want to see him ever again” I whispered, feeling a knot in my throat when I heard the moment he jumped from the chairs ready to attack Lando. 

“He will go to jail” Lando sighed.

“Good” I nodded. “He deserves to rot in there”

I recovered slower than I would like to admit. Getting up from bed was a torture, sitting on the couch was a relief that only lasted a few seconds before realizing I had to get up from it later. The walls and the ceiling of the bedroom started to get boring.

Silence fell between us, with his hands holding mine as we took deep breaths, trying to assimilate everything.

“I really need to go out…” I groaned.

Lando stayed with me all the time. Even if he still had a week more of his summer break, he decided to ask for two more weeks to take care of me. 

“You know you can't… Remember what the doctor said” he sighed, bringing the food to the table of the living room. 

“I know, but I'm just getting tired of these walls” I sighed. 

He smiled, standing behind my chair and wrapping his arms around my shoulders, reading what I was doing on my laptop.

“Just wait a few days, okay?” he whispered, pressing a kiss on the top of my head. “And while you recover, we can look for houses, hm? I chose some that maybe you'll like”

The torturous and slow way I recovered was agonizing. The visits to the doctor were too many to count them with my hands: exams of my head, exams of my broken bones, talks with the psychiatrist. 

“Can we visit them once I have the cast out of my leg?” I asked him, taking a deep breath after watching the pictures of the houses he found.

“Of course” he nodded. 

I took a deep breath and looked around. Lando told me that while I was unconscious his parents came to stay here, to keep the apartment clean and to be closer to the hospital.

“What will happen with Harry?” I dared to ask, leaning on his chest. “Like… He's obviously a psychopath, or something in that style. Will he go to jail? Or somewhere where they control people like that?”

I felt Lando sigh and rest his chin on top of my head. I could hear his mind working, trying to find the right words of what he wanted to say.

“I just… I hope he gets the punishment he deserves to have” he said, and I could find a little bit of disappointment in his voice. “He hurt you, and I won't forgive him for doing that. Years ago I accepted that the friendship I had with him was gone, that he only wanted to be around for my money and fame. But now… What he did is unforgivable, Violet”

“I know” I whisper, swallowing the lump of my throat. “I know… I think I'll never forgive him either…”

He held me tight, like he was scared of letting me go. The last few days were hard, he always wanted to be around me, and I could feel how he woke up in the middle of the night to hold me tighter. And something inside of me broke knowing why he did that. While I was unconscious I could hear him cry. He did that when he was alone, when none of his family or friends were around. I could feel him holding my hand tight, pressing it against his lips while he let go the tears, when he talked about his fear of losing me. 

How could I be so stupid? I made him promise me that he will always come back after a race, that he won't have a crash. And he made that promise, he came back after every race. And it was me who never came back, who got into a crash.

“I'm just glad that he's not around ever again” I sighed. “That we can love our lives without worrying what would be his next move”

He nodded in silence, sitting on the chair next to mine and eating the food on his plate without saying a word about it. I sighed, reaching for his hand and squeezing it softly, smiling weakly.

“We are free, Lando” I smiled weakly. “No more fear, no more looking out the window in case we are stalked…”

“You knew?” he frowned. He kept that in secret, hiding the pictures Harry sent on his backpack.

“I found the pictures some day when I was getting your backpack ready…” I sighed. “I guess you hid them to not scare me, so I just didn't say anything…”

“He is so sick, Violet” he sighed, clenching his jaw. “He knew exactly where the window of your room was. He took pictures of us in bed! Of you naked! Of us having sex. And he threatened me to sell them”

“But he didn't” I said. “Those were only threats…”

I took a deep breath and looked at him, watching how he was taking deep breaths while he closed his eyes.

“That's why you always look out the window before going to bed?” I sighed. 

“Yeah” he sighed. “I mean, at first I only thought it was a sick stalker. But then I started to think and then things made sense… I guess I always knew Harry was the one behind those threats…”

“He did everything to scare you and pull you away from me” I sighed.

“You heard his confession…” he said. “He did the same with your exes”

The fact that he was there when I was nearly abused. That he watched from afar how I was touched without permission and he only stared to find a moment to be the hero.

Boxes were the only thing I could see.

“He's sick” I said, pushing the plate away, not wanting to eat anymore, feeling nauseous.

“Where should we put the plants? I don't want to kill them” 

Boxes, bags and suitcases.

Boxes everywhere.

Lando came into the office with an empty box, leaving it on the floor. He placed his hands on his hips, looking at me with a frown, then at the plants.

“Internet says that you can put them on a box and make holes on it so they can have air” Lando frowned. “I mean… What we can do is take them first to the house? Put them in the back of the car and then leave there while we come back for the rest of things”

I look at him and then at the plants. There are four plants in my office, six in the bedroom, three in the bathroom and eight in the living room.

“Will they fit?” I asked. “In my car?”

“Yeah” he nodded, biting the nail of his thumb.

“In an Audi A1?” I laughed. 

He looked at me and took a deep breath before walking out of the office, coming back after a few seconds with a smile.

“I'll owe Max money…” he sighed.

“It's not my problem you two made a bet about us not needing help” I said, raising up my arms.

Moving out was finally happening.

I recovered right in time for the second race of the second half of the season. Time passed really fast and in between his races we started looking for houses, making time pass even faster. 

Packing all the things in my apartment was another story. Taking all my things and putting them in boxes, bags and suitcases was funny, but I hated the fact that Lando made a bet with Max.

“He will be a pain in the ass” he sighed, walking slower towards me and wrapping his arms around my waist, resting his head on my shoulder.

“Not my problem” I laughed softly. “Come on, we need a bigger car and he has one”

“We can always rent a car…”

“Lando”

“Okay, okay” he sighed, grabbing his phone and calling his friend.

The new house was completely empty when we bought it and it was exciting for us because we could decorate it how we wanted. 

“Are we sleeping there tonight?” I smiled excitedly, biting my lip. “The mattress arrives this afternoon”

“Sure, why not?” he smiled.

When Max came, he was already smirking once he crossed the front door. I watched them, how Lando rolled his eyes and Max extended his hand with the keys of his car in exchange of a bill.

“I didn't want to say it, but…” Max smirked, looking at me and then at Lando. “Told ya”

“Whatever!” Lando exclaimed, making us laugh. “But thank you”

“You can use my car, okay?” I said, getting up and grabbing the keys of my car. “Maybe we will use it for the weekend, to take the suitcases and boxes”

“Okay” he smiled, and looked at us. “I'm so proud of you two, really”

“Stop it, you are going to make me cry” Lando laughed.

Max chuckled and hugged us before grabbing the keys of my car. He stayed here to help us put the plants in his car, just to be faster.

“We'll call you once the house is finally done” I said smiling. “So we can make a welcome home dinner”

“I like how it sounds” he nodded. “When is the furniture coming?”

“Tomorrow” Lando said, standing next to me after closing the door of the backseats once he put the last plant inside of the car. “Tomorrow is the living room and couch. This afternoon the mattress is coming”

“Let me guess, you will stay there tonight?” Max laughed.

“Oh yeah” he smirked looking at me, making me blush and look away.

“Forget it, I don't want to know what you two do there” Max exclaimed, making us laugh. “If you need help, Pietra and I can come tomorrow to help you build the furniture”

“Oh sure” I smiled. “No bets this time, please”

“Yes, ma’am” both of them sighed.

I smile and hug Max before getting in the car, biting my lip. The keys of the new house were in my bag, and I couldn't help but feel excited as we were getting closer.

“Are you excited?” he asked me, placing his hand on my thigh and squeezing it softly. 

“You have no idea” I smiled. 

It was only a turn more to the left and we're just in front of our house. Our house, our place. Home.

He parked the car in front of the gate and I grabbed the keys, pressing the control remote key and filing when the gate opened in front of us. He drove inside and stopped the car in front of the main door.

“I can't believe we're finally doing it” I said, getting out of the car and looking at the house.

I turned around and looked at him, walking towards me. He wrapped his arm around my shoulders and I did the same, wrapping it around his waist and leaning on him.

“Do you want to get it?” he smiled, pressing a kiss on my temple.

I smiled and nodded, grabbing the keys and walking towards the door, unlocking it and opening it. But then I felt his arms around my back and behind my knees, picking me up and making me giggle.

“Lando!” I gasped, wrapping my arm around his shoulders.

“It's our first time walking in, we have to do it this way” he smirked, walking inside of the house.

He placed me back on the floor and I smiled looking around. The empty hall welcomed us, but it was perfect. This place is perfect.

“Well?” he smiled, wrapping his arms around my waist and resting his head on my shoulder.

“It's perfect” I smiled. “I can't wait to have the mattress”

“Oh, I don't think that can stop us! There is a kitchen aisle, a bathroom… plenty of places to have sex” he smirked.

“Yeah? I want to see the kitchen, just to make a better look at it, what do you think?” I smirk, walking away from him and looking over my shoulder, smiling when I saw him walk towards me while he unbuttoned his jeans and took off his hoodie.

This place is home. He is my home. And I can't wait to build a future with him, to see kids running around the living room, to hear our laughs. 

This is finally our time to be happy.

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[stylesispunk]

TIME CASTS A SPELL ON YOU, BUT YOU WON'T FORGET ME | CHAPTER 3

Joel Miller x f!oc

Chapter 3: damn your love, damn your lies

series masterlist | previous chapter | next | masterlist

Summary: fifteen years ago, amidst the filling of divorce papers and the broken promises of a happily ever after, the world collapsed. Amidst the ruins of cities and the remnants of dreams, Joel's search for his ex-wife began. No matter where he turned, the woman who had once loved him held him captive, a presence he couldn't escape.

word count: 2k>

warnings: tlou spoilers, fluff, angst (much), betrayal, no use of y/n.

a/n: Hello, part 3 is here! I've been having hard days lately so I'm not very inspired or motivated by this. I feel like the story lost the plot I had in mind at the beginning haha but it will make sense soon. PLEASE reblog and comment, your feedback feels like food to me?? If you have any questions, you can come to my blog and ask them. Happy reading💌

September 2003

Emily stumbled through the chaos that had consumed Texas. Smoke billowed from burning buildings, and the distant sounds of sirens and screams were a haunting reminder of the world she once knew was ending quickly. She had never imagined that civilization could crumble so easily.

Her heart raced as she navigated the streets once full of life, her eyes darting about in search of safety. Every face she passed was a potential threat. All those survival movies suddenly felt like a joke.

Emily's steps led her to a deserted alley, a place where she hoped to catch her breath and gather her thoughts. But she wasn't alone. A figure emerged from the shadows, and her body tensed with fear. 

The man, dressed in tattered clothes and with a wild look in his eyes, approached slowly. Emily instinctively took a step back, her hands trembling. She had no way of knowing if this man was friend or foe.

But then something unexpected happened. The man extended a hand, not as a threat, but as an offering. He spoke softly, his voice a stark contrast to the chaos that surrounded them.

 "You look like you could use some help," he said.

Emily hesitated, torn between her survival instincts and a desperate need for companionship. She took his hand, and he pulled her to her feet.

Now

Emily's eyes snapped open, and for a brief, disoriented moment, she had no idea where she was. The memories of the past days flooded back, and her heart pounded in her chest. She was in the car, with Joel and Ellie. Joel’s hands gripped the steering wheel, focused on the road ahead. Ellie’s gaze was fixed on the landscape outside the window. 

"Hey, you okay?" Ellie's voice broke through Emily's disorientation once she noticed her awakening. She turned to see Ellie's concerned eyes studying her.

Emily nodded, though her racing heart betrayed her. "Yeah, just a bad dream," she replied, her voice shaky.

Joel glanced at her briefly, concern flickering in his eyes before returning to the road. He didn't say anything, but deep down he felt Emily was hiding something. 

Emily tried to shake off the remnants of the dream, the memories of the first days navigating through this unknown world, and the memories of the mistakes she had made were taking their toll.

Taking a deep breath, she leaned back in her seat. Emily closed her eyes briefly, but her thoughts were interrupted.

“Nightmare?” Joel’s voice filled the air inside the truck. 

Emily sighed softly; her eyes still closed. "Yeah," she admitted, her voice carrying the weight of the memories that haunted her dreams. "Just a nightmare."

Joel's grip on the steering wheel seemed to tighten, a subtle sign of his concern for Emily. She could sense that he wanted to ask more, to dig deeper into what troubled her, but he remained silent.

Ellie, however, was never one to let things go easily. She shifted in her seat, leaning closer to Emily from the backseat. "Wanna talk about it?" she asked, her tone gentle and understanding.

Emily hesitated for a moment. She appreciated Ellie's concern, but there were things she wasn’t ready to face yet.

 "Not right now, Ellie," she replied softly, finally opening her eyes to look at the teenager. "Maybe later."

For now, she has decided to let the nightmares and memories rest. There would be time to confront them later.

"Slow down," Joel suggested, looking at the plate of food in Ellie's hand.

"This is slow," Ellie replied, inspecting the content skeptically. "What am I even eating?"

"That is a 20-year-old Chef Boyardee ravioli," Joel answered, talking around a mouthful of the same ravioli.

"That guy was good," Ellie remarked with her mouth full. 

"I actually agree," Joel admitted.

"How long are we staying out here?"

"I figure I sleep tonight... and drive all day tomorrow, all night, get us to Wyoming by next morning," Joel explained.

Ellie, feeling the chill of the night, inquired, "So, can we start a fire? I'm freezing."

Joel considered her request. "Now, why am I gonna tell you no?"

Emily voiced a concern, "Because Infected will see the smoke."

Joel shook his head confidently. "No. Fungus isn't that smart. This is too remote for Infected, anyway."

“People” Emily answered.

Ellie continued, "People? So, what are they gonna do? Rob us?"

Joel looked over at Emily, then at Ellie, a hint of caution in his eyes, as he replied, "Oh, they'll have way more in mind than that."

Emily shifted uncomfortable on the ground, so she decided to stand up and put a little distance between her and Joel and Ellie. The cold night air seemed to pierce through her bones, and she shivered involuntarily. The conversation reminded her just how bone-chilling the night could be when you are in danger. 

Joel and Ellie exchanged a glance, their unspoken communication indicating that they understood something was wrong with Emily. 

“Are you worried about her?” Ellie pipped up

“What?”

 Joel's eyes flicked to Emily, who was standing beside the car a few meters from them. He shifted uncomfortably on the ground, not used to having his emotions exposed so easily again. Not after he spent so many years building these walls.

"I'm just looking out for us," Joel grumbled, his tone gruff. But Ellie didn't buy it.

"You can lie, but your eyes don't," Ellie persisted. "You still care about her, don't you?"

Joel sighed, a heavy exhale that seemed to release some of the tension he was carrying. He spared a brief glance at Emily, and at that moment, their eyes locked. Despite the turbulent passing of time, there was still something between them. Something haunting all their what-ifs. 

"Yes,” Joel admitted quietly. "I’ve been caring about her my whole life.”

And even with the distance, Emily heard those words. She felt her soul breaking, and the swell of emotions and guilt inside her intensified. The past and the present intertwined together, weighing heavily on her. 

As the night settled in, and the three of them were getting comfortable to sleep, Ellie chuckled, breaking the tense atmosphere of the night. Joel grunted in response.

"Joel," Ellie persisted, raising her voice slightly to get his attention.

"What? Can I ask you a serious question?" Joel asked, a touch of annoyance in his voice.

"Yeah," Ellie replied, sighing playfully. "Why did the scarecrow get an award?"

Joel let out a deep, exasperated breath. "Because he was outstanding in his field."

Ellie burst into laughter. "You jerk! Did you read this somewhere?"

"No," Joel said, feigning innocence. "Now go to sleep."

As the laughter faded, Ellie's expression grew more serious.

"Hm. Those people you mentioned earlier," Ellie began, her voice quieter, "there's no way anyone knows we're here, right?"

"No one's gonna find us," Joel reassured, his voice steady despite the unease that still lingered in the air.

"Okay," Ellie replied, her voice tinged with relief.

"Actually, smells kinda good," Ellie added, snuggling herself inside her sleeping bag.

"Well, that would be Frank's then," Joel replied with a hint of amusement.

Joel didn’t sleep, instead, he kept his eyes open watching Emily’s movements. He knew something was bothering her. 

As the night grew darker, Joel couldn't bring himself to sleep. Instead, he kept his eyes open, watching Emily looking up at the sky as if she was pleading to the universe for something in return to her. He knew something was bothering her, his feelings for her still hung in the air, unresolved.

Emily had been lost in her thoughts, replaying the millions of thoughts inside her mind, and Joel took his chance to go and talk to her. 

“You know no one’s gonna find us here”, Joel broke the eerie silence in the middle of the night. 

His voice brought Emily back to the current moment. She turned to look at him. His eyes held a mixture of concern and something deeper, something unresolved.

"I know," Emily replied quietly, her voice carrying a hint of worry.

Joel shifted dangerously closer to her, the warmth of the moonlight dancing in his eyes. “What’s going on?” 

“Nothing” Emily answered.

"Emily," he said softly, his voice filled with concern, "you can talk to me, you know."

She hesitated for a moment; her gaze fixed on the trees on the horizon. The memories of the past, of the early days of the outbreak, were never far from her mind. She didn’t want to admit her feelings for the man beside her never burned into flames. They were there, still lingering in her heart. 

And she didn’t want to admit it either, it was that Joel wasn’t the bad man she thought he had become. He was a human, the man who once was her Joel. 

“Can I?” she questioned. 

Joel nodded, his eyes never leaving hers. "You can," he affirmed, his voice a gentle reassurance.

Emily took a deep breath, the night air cool against her skin. She could feel the weight of unspoken words pressing down on her chest, and yet, she was hesitating, as if she stood at the edge of a precipice, unsure of whether to take the leap into the unknown.

“I don’t wanna hurt you” she whispered.

Joel reached out and gently cupped Emily's cheek, his thumb brushing away a tear that had escaped her eye. "Emily" he said softly, but the tone behind was desperation.

But she pulled away, before diving into her feelings, and Joel gave Emily the space she clearly needed. 

Emily took another deep breath, steadying herself. The night was quiet, and the moon cast a gentle glow around them. She knew she had to be honest with him, no matter how painful it might be.

"When we separated," she began, her voice soft, "I thought I was going to hate you for the rest of my life. I was angry at you, Joel, for what happened, for the choices you made alone. But as time went by, that anger turned into something else. It turned into longing."

Joel listened attentively, his eyes never leaving her face. The admission hung heavily in the air, a confession of emotions that had been festering in her heart for far too long. Emily's gaze remained fixed on the horizon, her eyes reflecting the moonlight.

"I couldn't forgive you," she whispered, her voice trembling with vulnerability.

"And I couldn't forget you," he interrupted, his words filled with a raw, unspoken longing.

Their words hung in the stillness of the night, each sentence carrying a weight that seemed to echo through the darkness around them.

Emily finally turned to look directly into Joel's eyes.

“But you found someone to share your life with Joel. Even when the world went to shit.” 

Joel met her gaze, his eyes holding a mix of emotions. "No," he replied, a hint of pain in his voice, "it wasn't like that."

"Joel, I—" Emily began, but he cut her off.

"Listen," he said with a determined tone. "The night everything went to hell, I searched everywhere for you. I searched for you for years."

Emily's eyes welled with tears as Joel's words sank in. She had spent years thinking that Joel had moved on. Now, hearing that he had searched for her all that time, her heart ached.

"Why didn't you find me?" Emily asked, her voice trembling. 

Joel's expression was haunted, his jaw clenched as he looked away briefly, memories of those dark times flooding back. "I tried," he admitted, his voice thick with regret. "But I couldn't find any trace of you."

Emily nodded, understanding the harsh reality of their situation. The outbreak had torn their lives apart, scattering them to the winds.

“So, you gave up. Like you always do” she spitted, even with the pain her voice was soft.

Joel continued, his voice carrying the weight of his past actions. "I never gave up on you, not in my heart. But I had to make choices in order to survive.”

“You know, back when it all started," she began, ignoring Joel’s words. "I was alone. And then I met someone. A man who saved my life that night” She took a deep breath “Mark” 

Joel's eyes widened in surprise. His heart broke a little bit at the possibility of Emily loving someone else. 

“That sweet man is haunting me now” Emily continued, her voice heavy with sadness.

"Why?" Joel finally asked, his voice tinged with frustration.

Emily shook her head, her eyes reflecting the pain of her past. “Because men don’t like when a woman outdo them” The bitterness in Emily's voice was a proof that people had become monsters. 

Joel couldn't help but clench his jaw at Emily's words. The bitterness in her voice painted a vivid picture of the kind of person that man had become for her.

Joel remained silent for a moment; his eyes focused solely on Emily. 

"We'll deal with him," Joel finally said, determination lacing his voice. "We'll find a way to stop him”

Emily's gratitude shone in her eyes as she looked at him. Despite the pain of their past, there was still a bond between them. 

The morning came with a soft and cheerful brightness. The sun's early rays bathed the sky in gentle orange and pink hues, creating a warm and welcoming glow over the landscape, embracing the three of them on a new day.

Birds started singing their symphony, filling the air with joyful melodies. The globe appeared to gently wake up as if shaking off the remnants of the night's gloom.

Joel was wide awake, his gaze fixated on Emily's sleeping form. He had a glimmer of optimism that after last night their shattered relationship could be rebuilt over again.

However, his peaceful scenario was shattered by Ellie.

"Ugh! The hell is that?" Ellie grimaced, eyeing a cup of coffee in disdain.

"You don't like coffee?" Joel raised an eyebrow, amused by her reaction.

“You didn't sleep," she said, ignoring Joel’s question. 

"Not much," Joel admitted, glancing over at Emily, who had managed to doze off during the night.

Ellie smirked mischievously. 

“It’s not what you think” Joel added hastily, anticipating Ellie's imagination. He wanted to make sure she didn't jump to any conclusions about his relationship with Emily.

Emily stirred, slowly opening her eyes. She met Joel's gaze, and a sense of calm passed between them. Last night's conversation felt like opening a door to a part of their past that had been buried. Joel offered a small, reassuring smile, and Emily responded with a hesitant one of her own. It was a fragile moment, a glimpse of the possibility that they could find their way back to each other. 

It he only knew.

As they packed up the car and prepared to hit the road once more, Emily's gaze fell on her belongings inside her backpack. Guilt gnawed at her, and she knew she needed to come clean. 

Emily took a deep breath and approached Joel with a hesitant expression. "

"Joel," she said quietly, there's something I need to tell you."

“Can it wait?” Joel asked, his voice laced with concern. "We're gonna hit the road, and I don't want any surprises right now."

Emily hesitated but the weight of her confession was becoming unbearable.

"It can’t," she replied, her voice filled with regret. "I have to tell you now."

Joel's brows furrowed as he considered her words. He wanted to trust Emily, but he also knew that they weren’t the same. 

He nodded, a sigh escaping his lips. "Tell me."

“But before you get mad or something, promise me you will listen” Emily urged, her voice filled with apprehension.

Emily took a deep breath, her fingers trembling. But in despair, Joel took the crumpled piece of paper from Emily's hand, his fingers gripping it tightly. He unfolded it and quickly scanned the contents. The heading at the top of the page read, "Wanted: Joel Miller." The pamphlet contained a crude drawing of Joel's face, along with a list of crimes attributed to him, both real and exaggerated.

Joel's heart raced as he read through the document. He looked up at Emily, his expression somber.

"Emily," he said quietly, holding up the pamphlet, "What is this?

a/n: So what do you think is happening? betrayal?

tags: @joeldjarin @catchallfangirl @phoebe13

[claireelizabeth85]

Come Home To Me - Chapter 6

John Egan x OC Female!Reader

Summary: When the idea of a past life turns out it isn't just an idea or a dream.

Warning: angst

AN: This is a work of fiction and is based on the TV characters from the Apple TV series. No disrespect is intended towards the real men of the 100th BG.

All previous chapters can be found here

---------------------------------------------------------

Lizzy's hands shook slightly as she clutched her coffee cup, taking a slow drag from her cigarette. Sitting outside the pub in the early morning quiet, she felt every rustle of the wind and distant murmur stir up echoes of her past life. Around her, the village was waking up; shadows stretched across the cobblestones, morphing into haunting memories she couldn’t escape. Each sound, rather than soothing, seemed to whisper back stories she wished she could forget. Pulling her jacket tighter around her, she exhaled a cloud of smoke and tried to push away the ghosts that lingered a little too close. Stubbing out her smoke, she made her way indoors, taking a seat opposite Sarah as they settled down to eat. 

“I want to go home, Sarah. I can't stand being haunted by these memories anymore,” Lizzy muttered, her voice a fragile thread amidst the clatter of morning utensils.

Sarah leaned in, her eyes burning with a mix of concern and determination. “What? Are you sure? We’re on the brink of understanding why these memories are resurfacing now.”

Lizzy’s weary eyes met Sarah's. “What does it matter? It’s all past, isn’t it?”

“It’s never just the past with us, Lizzy. Remember your flight to Berlin in February ’45?” Sarah’s voice steadied, heavy with implication. She leaned in closer, her tone conveying the weight of her findings. “I've been digging through the archives, and I found the weather reports prepared on the day of your mission. They noted an unusual cloud bank, described in terms stupidly similar to other incidents years later."

She paused, letting the information sink in before continuing. “But it’s not just the weather reports—there’s more. I've also gone through the after-action reports from the crews who made it back. They spoke of disorientations and malfunctions that seemed to centre around that same cloud bank. It's been mentioned repeatedly, across decades, in different contexts. This isn’t just regular weather; it’s something else, something anomalous.”

Sarah pulled out a folder, stuffed with copies of the documents, and spread them out on the table. “These aren’t coincidences, Lizzy. There’s a pattern here that we can’t ignore. This cloud didn’t just appear in 1945—it’s been a recurring anomaly, linked with multiple unexplained phenomena and disappearances. And I think it’s linked to your memories.”

Lizzy’s fork hovered in mid-air, her appetite lost. “You think a cloud formation is the reason I’m reliving this….nightmare?” Sarah sighed exasperated. “It’s a theory, yes.” 

Reluctantly, Lizzy glanced at the documents strewn across the table.  They seemed to pulse with a foreboding energy, each page a reminder of her last moments in the skies over Berlin. “And you believe diving back into that” she pointed at the weather report with her fork, “will change what’s already done?”

“Yes,” Sarah countered sharply, her voice slicing through the quiet. “Because I can’t stand to see my best friend dissolve into shadows and whiskey. Maybe, just maybe, confronting this can bring you peace. I don’t know, maybe it’ll take you back to John.”

Lizzy's emotions flickered across her face—hope warring with fear. Before she could formulate a response, Sarah’s focus shifted abruptly to the entrance of the bar where Abigail had just entered followed by a man that was not her husband. 

Rising abruptly, Sarah’s chair scraped back loudly against the floor. She approached the couple with a determined stride, her tone polite yet firm. Abigail, who Sarah had seen the day before at the museum, was now accompanied by a different man. He was tall with dark hair, cut into a neat, short back and sides but with enough length on top to style it.  Sarah could hear their conversation and given his tone, the man was unimpressed. 

“You’ve dragged me halfway across the world, to the middle of nowhere, on the word of an old lady. And for what? A pub breakfast?” Abigail frowned, equally unimpressed by his complaining. “If Nana believed her, then we should too. She wouldn’t send us on a wild goose chase without a reason. There’s more at stake here than you realise.”

Sarah coughed lightly to gain their attention. “I’m sorry to interrupt,” she began, holding up the photograph that had unexpectedly altered the course of her investigation. “I know you mentioned yesterday that your identity wasn’t of concern, but I need to understand who you are and where you got this photograph from.”

The tall, dark-haired man took the photograph with a furrowed brow. His initial confusion soon gave way to irritation. “Abigail, what the hell are you playing at?” His voice was tinged with frustration.  Beside him, Abigail remained calm, her expression serene yet confident. She glanced at Sarah, her smile faint but reassuring.  “Like I said, I believed her. There are bigger things at stake, one of them is that photograph.”

Sarah’s own confusion mounted. “So, you recognise the picture? Can you tell me when it was taken?” The man who had not been introduced looked over it and then looked back at Sarah. He shot a look of surprise at his sister before exhaling sharply. “Holy shit,” he muttered, the realisation hitting him. “I hate to admit it, but you were right, Abby.”

As he spoke, Abigail’s gaze was drawn to the table where Lizzy’s distant figure sat hunched over her plate, the man following her gaze. “Is that?” Abigail held his arm “Don’t say anything. She can’t know we’re here. She mustn’t know about us.”

He sighed, the fight going out of him as he stood still, the photograph in his hand. He glanced at it once more, a mixture of awe and resignation washing over him. “Alright, Abby. Let’s see where this goes. But if you’re wrong, you owe me more than just breakfast.”

Abigail nodded, her smile returning as she looked back at Sarah. “We’re here to help, however we can. What do you need to know?”

Sarah turned back to face the woman, her voice a mix of frustration and curiosity. "Why can't Lizzy know about you? What are you to her, and why this secrecy?"

The man accompanying Abigail, now clearly annoyed by the complexity of the situation, threw up his hands. "You have the answers, you explain it. I'm off to get some breakfast." He walked away, leaving the women to their tense exchange.

Abigail motioned for Sarah to sit back down, her expression solemn but with a hint of an authoritative tone. "Ignore him; he’s my older brother and he's always reminding me when I’ve overstepped. But he’s right about one thing—I did start this.” She gestured between herself and Sarah, linking them in the unfolding mystery. “And you're right, you know. You're on the right track."

She paused, her gaze intense and searching. "The key to all of this is Lizzy. She needs to fly again. That's the only way we can begin to untangle this mess."

Sarah scoffed, her scepticism evident. "And how do you propose we manage that? It’s not exactly easy to just hop into a B-17 these days."

Without missing a beat, Abigail slid a flyer across the table from her bag. "I can’t divulge too much about who I am—only that I’m…family. Someone very wise instructed me to come here at this precise moment, hand you that photograph, and ensure that we don’t repeat the mistakes of the past."

As Sarah examined the flyer—a promotional piece for an upcoming air show featuring a fully operational B-17—her mind raced. The plan was audacious, bordering on the insane, yet the urgency in Abigail's voice made it impossible to dismiss outright.

Abigail tapped the photo gently, her voice lowering to a near whisper, compelling and earnest. "And it’s not just Lizzy who needs to fly; you need to be there with her. This is about closing a loop, about healing wounds you both don't fully understand yet."

The enormity of the task weighed heavily on Sarah as she picked up the flyer. Just then, the man returned from the bar, his meal in tow, breaking the intensity of their discussion. As he sat, Sarah stood, clutching the photo and the flyer.

"One last question— who took this photograph?" she asked, needing some tangible connection to anchor the surreal task ahead.

Abigail's face softened, her eyes shimmering with a blend of pride and deep personal connection. "My maternal grandfather. He was there, right in the midst of it all, just like you are now."

With that connection made, Sarah felt a shift in her perspective. This was no longer just about diving into history or helping her best friend—it was personal. It linked them to a family story that spanned generations, wrapping Lizzy and her into a narrative bigger than they had imagined. She looked over at Lizzy, determination setting in. They had a plane to catch, and some history of their own to make.

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

Sarah and Lizzy were in the museum office, enveloped by the soft murmur of activity as Fred sorted through what they dubbed "donations" from Abigail, organising them into meticulously arranged piles. Despite the normalcy of the scene, Sarah’s mind was elsewhere, wrestling with information she wasn’t yet ready to share. With a casual air that belied her internal tension, she glanced over at Geoff and Fred.

"You wouldn’t happen to know who owns the bomber featured at this weekend’s air show, would you? Any chance we could get Lizzy on board?" she asked, her voice casual but tinged with an undercurrent of urgency.

Geoff and Fred exchanged a look of uncertainty. "We might be able to pull some strings," Fred replied, scratching his head thoughtfully.

"Could those strings possibly extend to Liz flying it?" Sarah probed further, the urgency now barely masked by her nonchalant stance.

The room was suddenly filled with a cacophony of concerns. Lizzy, typically more outspoken, only managed a half-hearted jest, "I haven’t flown in years!" Geoff, more grounded, pointed out, "She's been nearly drunk nonstop for a week; she'd need to sober up first." Fred, ever the sceptic, added, "Plus, her pilot’s licence isn’t even current."

Sarah raised her hands, silencing the room with a firm gesture. "This is about more than just licences or sobriety. Lizzy and I need to be on that plane, and we need to fly it to Germany. It’s our only shot at making things right."

Lizzy laughed, more out of disbelief than amusement. "You want to steal a B-17?"

Sarah's composure momentarily faltered, and she let loose a passionate outburst. "I’ve been buried in archives for days, uncovering everything about this damn bomb group and the hell they went through—the very hell you lived through! I can’t—and won’t—stand by and watch you disintegrate under the weight of haunting memories and a lost love so profound I can literally see it breaking your heart." Her voice softened as her eyes locked with Lizzy’s. "Getting on that plane might be our only chance to end these nightmares."

Lizzy’s scepticism, however, remained steadfast. "And what happens when we hit that cloud bank over Berlin? We just dive right into the middle of a war and hope for the best? I tried that once, remember? Look where it got me."

Sarah’s eyes hardened with resolve, her tone steely. "No more self-pity, Lizzy. And no more whiskey. You're going to get sober whether you like it or not, and you're getting ready to fly. Lieutenant,” she used Lizzy’s rank to underscore her point, causing Lizzy to straighten her posture, “you need to clean yourself up. Check if your flying overalls still fit and remember how to do your hair up properly because you’re going to look the part, even if I have to dress you myself. Understood?"

Lizzy put her glass down, mumbling a resigned “Yes, ma’am,” acknowledging Sarah’s uncompromising stance.

"The nightmares those men endured now plague me too," Sarah continued, her voice unwavering. "And I’ll be damned if we don’t at least try to see if flying through that cloud again can put an end to all this."

Turning back to Geoff and Fred with a determined yet composed look, Sarah requested, "Please, make the call. Let's see if we can list her as a pilot. I'm really counting on this to help her." She paused, her tone softening further, "And could we find a flying jacket that fits? you know how pilots are about the cold.”

Taglist:

@victoryrollsandredlips @bobparkhurst @prettyinlimegreenboots @ginabaker1666 @thedeviltohisangel

[detectivemarvelingcomics]

Not Your Classic Vigilante [Ch. 8]

Alternate Dimension AU

TW: Language, Mentions of Death, Descriptions of Violence, Scar Mention, Mentioned Body Horror

CW: OC Use, See the OC Guide [Here]

Genre: Angst, Light Comedy

Pairing: Batfamily x Batsis!Reader

(8/?) [First] | [Previous] | [Next]

[DC Masterlist] | [Not Your Classic Vigilante Masterlist]

YN Pronouns: Female (She/Her)

Word Count: 3.8K

Notes: It's time for my bi-annual update of this bad boy LMAOOOOOOO see y'all in another half a year! (I'm kidding, I'll try to get more updates out before the year ends if my schedule permits lmaooo) Seriously, though, thanks to anyone who stuck it out even though I'm not a good updater! I really appreciate you all <3

Not Your Classic Vigilante: @gabytodd @peachydoki @marshmallow12435 @f0leysgurl @luminaaz @lolsnack @akuri-shinsou @pansinspace @time-shardz @lovely-maryj 

Disclaimer: This series is originally by @fandom-meanderer who is a close friend of mine, but she has since fallen out of her Tumblr days and asked me to finish a few series for her, hence why I am now in ownership of the Not Your Classic Vigilante series, I hope I can still live up to her writing as I rewrite this series! (I promise not to change too much, hehe)

28 July 2022

As you’d probably expected, your slumber did not last long, as you was reminded of why you had a hard time sleeping in the first place. Of course it’d come back to you in such a vivid way, now that you’ve returned home and back to the crime scene. You wondered how different it looked now, or if any of your belongings remained there after so long.

Your nightmares were always the same, back in that horrific alleyway. Three years, and you still haven’t forgotten. Three years, and you can still feel everything. Three years, and you can still remember looking up to the sky and seeing that all too familiar smoggy sky. You can still remember, and recite from heart, the prayer you sent out to whatever god was out there to just end your suffering there. And, as your pursuer pulled on your hair, you would always wake up, your mind sparing you from reliving all of that trauma and, usually, you’d decide to work instead, but this time the circumstances were different.

‘Another nightmare?’

‘If nightmares are all I have then I’d rather not sleep at all.’

‘Tea, darling.’

‘Yeah, yeah, I know, I just wish you were here, it’d be easier. Think you can walk me through that miracle recipe you usually make?’

‘Of course, why would I say no?’ Alex’s voice drained from your head and you made your way to the manor kitchen, ignoring the light in the library this time as you continued. ‘I’m sure you’ll have all the basics. Milk, honey, lemon, and whatever tea is available.’

You had always thought that the manor was too quiet at night like there were demons in the shadows and monsters in the closets. You remember that you used to wake up either Dick or Jason to come downstairs with you when you were younger. Dick, of course, always said yes no matter how tired he was, Jason would tease you about it and get upset but in the end, he’d follow, you always relied on them to scare the demons away, and, now that you thought of it, you weren’t sure what kind of demon would be afraid of a boy in bright spandex but that was beside the point.

Then you got older, you got older and suddenly you had your own younger siblings to watch over. You had to be the person to chase their demons away, but at that time, you had nothing aside from a flashlight. You remembered asking yourself if something were to happen, would you be defending your younger siblings or would they be defending you? You, a civilian, and them, the vigilantes. Hell, you were pretty sure your dad was friends with some demons. 

‘And now the demons hide from you.’

‘Very funny, Alex. Once we’re back together no more prying into my thoughts, alright?’

‘I wouldn’t pry if you were so loud.’

‘You’re insufferable.’

'I just want to brighten up your mood a little, darling. Unclench your jaw.’ You didn’t even realize that you were until he mentioned it. You scoured the fridge and pulled out the required ingredients. 

‘I’m not keeping you up, am I?’

‘Goodness, no, you could never. I’m just checking things on my end. We have what we need, when you’re ready, we can head home.’

‘I’m just worried that it was too easy. Nothing ever is with this family.’

‘Let’s just consider it a blessing, for now. We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it otherwise.’

‘Right,’ you shook your head. ‘Have you located Cass yet?’

‘Cassandra is as elusive as ever. Carter and I have been keeping an eye out for her, though.’

‘Good, I think she’s the only one we really have to look out for,’ you looked over your shoulder. Your sister had a knack for stealth, one that you had been aware of since now. But, it wasn’t her famed stealth that concerned you, no, of everyone in this damned family, it will be her to find out that you’re lying. You were lucky enough to have landed here when she wasn’t at the house, otherwise, you’d be screwed.

‘We’re waiting outside for you. Whenever you’re ready.’

‘You’re outside? Be careful, I forgot to tell you both earlier about the traps.’

‘Oh, trust us, we know.’

~

Two Hours Earlier.

“Don’t move, don’t move,” Alex hisses to Carter, who was probably in the most uncomfortable position he’d ever been in.

“I’m not moving, dammit,” Carter takes slow breaths. “Thank god his highness made us play Twister with him so often.” He holds his position steady between the number of lasers that had suddenly sparked to life. “What’s our situation, Lex?”

“Best case scenario they’d slice one of our limbs off if we’re clumsy.”

“That’s the best case?”

“The worst case scenario is that they trip the alarm system and suddenly we’d have this Universe’s strongest family on our tails.

“Great,” Carter groans. “You know a lot about the Captain’s family don’t you?”

“I do,” Alex tries to turn slowly to a more favorable position. “You know, you could just call her (Y/N).”

“She outranks me though.”

“We worked together, she just happened to figure out the system faster than we did,” Alex sighs. “I also know you two have a certain... relation, if I may presume.” Carter nearly loses his balance, saving his position by grabbing onto a nearby flower pot.

“Fuck, wait, are you serious?!” Carter whips his head towards him with wide eyes. Alex only nods calmly, keeping his movements short as a red laser was right in front of his eyes. 

“I wasn’t 100% sure, but considering your reaction, I can say that I am more confident,” he says. “You make a sweet duo.”

“Ugh… we were so careful,” Carter sighs.

"Not careful enough, hard to hide things from someone who's known her since we were seven," Alex scoffs. “Anyway, I do like you, Carter, you're one of the few people in the Brigade I'd consider a friend, so, with your best interests in mind, be sure to be on the watch for his highness. He might order for your head if he finds out,” Alex says with a teasing tone to his voice.

“Alex, please tell me that you’re not planning on using this against me, are you?”

“That depends on your future actions,” Alex grins.

“I’m so fucked.”

~

‘Oh, and do be sure to shut down the lasers, please, I think Carter’s getting a muscle cramp.’ You could easily picture his smirk.

Alex’s side went silent and you reveled in the quiet. You never liked this telepathy thing, it was always so violating in your mind, and truthfully in his too. You both tried to avoid it until absolutely necessary, such as now. It was a by-product of your own curious case of two souls interlinked to allow for eternal life, or, at least, until Alex dies. You paused, half waiting for him to say something, mainly to correct you, but no such thing came.

Courtesy of the ruthless queen, she always held it above your head, how indebted you were to her. If there was truly one person you hated, it was her. Even your father’s stance, as absolute as it was before, paled in comparison to the queen and the leash she had around your neck. You were certain that she was somehow keeping tabs on you even here, after all, to move without knowledge of her majesty is akin to treason.

You really should be more careful. As they say, it comes in threes. You’ve died once here, you’ve died once in the other world, and the next one is bound to be your last chance. You shook your head.

“I hope Alfred didn’t move anything since I was last here,” you mumbled to yourself. It would do you well not to think about it right now, you should be more focused on the mission. Like you said earlier, it was too easy.

“He didn’t,” Tim confirms. You glanced over your shoulder and Tim smiles softly. “That used to scare the heck out of you.” Tim and Cass were, in some ways, too similar, as much as they’d argue against it. The only difference between them was that one didn’t hesitate. Ever.

“Not anymore, I guess,” you respond. You pull out a tea packet and fill the water heater to its maximum. 

“Hope you don’t mind if I join you.” He walks into the kitchen and pulls out a mug.

“Of course, I wouldn’t, let’s have a conversation, Timmy,” you nodded toward him, waiting for the water to heat. “Why are you still up?”

“Bruce asked me to go through some files, just some review stuff,” he answers. “Have you spoken to him?”

“Something like that.”

“I’m not sure if anyone told him.”

“I could tell,” you rubbed the back of your neck awkwardly. The water heater finished and you swiftly poured it into your and Tim’s mugs.

“Whatcha drinking?” He asks, nudging your shoulder. It was something he always used to do when you were younger. He was testing you. You nudged him back.

“Just something I saw on Pinterest.”

‘It’s like I don’t exist to you,’ Alex chides. You pay him no mind.

“Smells good,” he says. You both take a seat at the counter, silently blowing the steam away from the tops while seemingly trying to find out what to say to the other. Strange, you’d never thought that you’d feel awkward around Tim of all your siblings, yet here you were, with your words caught in your throat.

“How are you, Tim?” You finally ask. Tim taps his mug a couple of times, looking off into nothing while he thought of his response.

“I’ve been better, (Y/N), and you?” He tosses the question back.

“I’ve been better,” you repeated. “Crazy… everything that I found out today, and no doubt more, huh?” You ask. Tim could only nod.

“A lot has changed, (Y/N), I don’t even know where to start,” he shakes his head. “It’s okay though, right? We’ll have a lot of time to spend together,” Tim says with a small smile. Your chest clenched. Ah, Tim, what a horrible habit of his. You were worried that he already had you figured out. Had you slipped up somewhere? A mannerism you hadn’t done before?

‘Stop clutching your heart,’ Alex’s voice rang. Your hand dropped to your lap.

“I see there’s a new Robin,” you answered before Tim could get suspicious.

“Oh, no, Duke’s Robin trial’s over. He’s Signal now,” Tim explains.

“Another kid who fell victim to dad’s charms, huh?” You drank some of your tea, feeling your thoughts relax afterward.

“Something like that,” Tim mutters. “But, (Y/N)… there’s something different about you.” This conversation again. You had to stay on your guard, everything you say and everything you do can and will be used against you. Leave it to Timmy, always the skeptic.

“I mean… you know what happened,” you sighed. “Where’s Cassie?” You divert the conversation.

“Last I heard she’s helping out at Steel City,” Tim hums. “I should call her over,” he reaches for his phone, but you shake your head. Anyone but Cass.

“It’s fine, sounds like she’s busy, like you said, we have a lot of time to figure things out. I’m just proud,” you grinned. “I’m proud of all of you, looks like you’ve all been doing your best since I’ve been gone and… that makes me really glad,” you nudged his leg with your foot and he looks up from his coffee to you, a sudden grief in his eyes. You were telling the truth. You were worried about Tim more so than your other brothers actually, of them all, he was the most prone to overthinking. 

“What do you think?” Tim suddenly asks. You freeze.

‘He asked if you feel any different,’ Alex fills in for you.

“I’m not sure, Tim,” you sighed. “I feel like myself but, at the same time, not at all. I saw the news reports already, so… do you think…?” You looked down at your hands. Now, to be perfectly honest, you’ve thought about this before, plenty of times actually. This body you’re in, is it actually yours?

“I mean… if I may,” Tim moves his chair so he can be a little closer to you and reaches for your hand. Instinctively, you pull away and Tim’s breath hitches.

“Sorry… muscle memory maybe,” you tried to cover for your actions, placing your hand on his instead. Tim holds it gently, observing your wrist in particular, but ghosting his hands around yours entirely. You gave him your non-dominant hand for a reason. You couldn’t come up with an excuse to explain the calluses on your sword hand. “You have scar marks all around your wrist here,” he says, tracing the faint outline of the jagged cut made into it. As he did so, it was like you could feel the sharp pain from before. “Your hand was the first one they found, you know,” he suddenly says, a sharp tone switch. Again, you pulled your hand away, rubbing your wrist softly now.

“So I’ve heard,” you muttered.

“They never found your torso.”

“And yet, here it is,” you said next. He’s testing your answers now. It’s too late to act afraid. “That’s why, I had a nightmare last night, a body without a torso was running towards me,” you lied. Tim frowned, taking a sip of his drink before continuing.

“I wonder… is your situation similar to Jason’s? Or is it completely different?” He says aloud.

“Well… I don’t think I turned into an asshole, so I’m pretty sure I’m different,” you laughed. Tim broke a small chuckle.

“That’s true, that’s true,” he nods. “How do you feel about this, (Y/N)? About coming back to life and all?” Tim seems to have relaxed.

“I mean… it’s strange. You know my thoughts on death,” you mumbled. “I’m a bit glad, though. Maybe this was a gift, you know? I still have to pick up my degree from the university, I wonder if they kept it,” you rest your head against your palm now.

“Your degree?” Tim asks.

“Yeah? You know I went to college, right?” You looked at him with disbelief.

“Well, yeah, of course, I know that!” Tim defends tiredly. “It’s just… did you not see it earlier? Bruce hung it over the mantle,” Tim points to the general area of the living room and your eyes widened slightly. You didn’t even notice that.

“Oh… I guess it slipped my mind, I was too busy looking at your Boy Wonder pictures,” you chided.

“Whatever, I keep telling Alfred to move those, it’s so embarrassing,” Tim grows slightly red before his smile falls again as if remembering something else. What was he thinking right now? What was going on inside that head of his?

“Tim, are you okay?”

“Yeah… yeah, I’m fine,” he nods his head unsurely. He looks back down at his coffee. “No… No, I’m not,” he corrects himself. You hesitated before putting your hand on his shoulder.

“Hey, do you want to talk about it? Is it my fault?” You asked. Maybe your sudden reappearance shocked him, or maybe you were wrong, maybe he hadn’t been holding up well.

“I just… (Y/N), I want to trust you, really I do,” he says, meeting your eyes once again. “But there’s something different about you, something I can’t really point out,” he shakes his head. He looks away again for a brief moment, as if in thought, then he looks at you, his eyes filled with the determination to solve the case that was you. “Who are you?”

“Timmy,” whatever warning tone was in your voice wasn’t intentional. Your hand moved up to his face, holding it as gently as possible. “I knew you’d be the first to find out.” You whispered. “And I’m so sorry, I love you, you’re my little brother but… I have to do this, please understand. It’s nothing personal…” In an instant, you slammed his head against the table, leaving him knocked out.

‘Well, that can only work once,’ Alex chides.

“I know,” you chugged down the rest of your drink. “Let’s get out of here.” You rushed out to the gardens. Dammit, you knew it, why did you entertain him? Five minutes, no, less. You had to get out of here as soon as possible. You spot your two teammates, both in compromising positions that they should care less about right now. “Don’t even worry about the security system! Let’s just go!” You shout, already configuring the device around your wrist. You heard doors slamming behind you, shouts or rushed speech, you didn’t have time to differentiate. The alarm system blared, no doubt a wake-up call, and the sudden lights that shot into the night sky, without a doubt, was to call the patrolling vigilantes back home.

“Ready when you are, captain!” Alex shouts. You couldn’t ignore the stares you felt. Which sibling was it?

“Count of three!” You shout. It can’t be Dick or Jason, they would’ve said something by now.

“Three!” Alex shouts. Tim was still knocked out, knowing him, he’d be hanging behind on the cams but a quick glance earlier showed that the garden cameras were fried beyond repair.

“Two!” Carter was next. Damian? No, can’t be, he would’ve reacted similarly to your older brothers, surely.

“One!” The three of you slammed your hands on the devices, a vortex quickly pulling you into your home universe.

The three of you tumbled onto the concrete floors of the Keep, your back slamming harshly against the table that, of course, Nixon finally bolted to the ground. Carter hit the wall, sending displayed weapons crashing down. And, as expected, Alex landed as gracefully as ever, standing up nearly immediately to brush the dirt off his uniform.

And, just like that, all your exhaustion caught up to you. The constant acting, the running around Gotham, running around the manor, and even the stress of your family. All in the span of two days, you deserved a vacation after even just looking at your father, that man just knew how to drain the life out of you. If you could, you’d rather sleep right where you were. Your lumbar vertebra only slightly fractured from the sheer force of hitting the table, but, give it a couple of minutes and it’ll be fine again.

As much as you hated to admit it, it made you feel better now that you were in a more familiar place. One that you felt comfortable in, at the very least. Sure, you spent the majority of your waking hours working in this place, but it was better than the stares you got over the two days you were at the manor. For once, these ugly concrete floors felt welcoming.

“Well, that went swimmingly, didn’t it?” Alex grins. You and Carter could only groan in response. You held up the flash drive regardless and Alex takes it from your hand. Then, as soon as the tingling feeling in your legs subsided, you took deep breaths.

“It almost went too well,” you shook your head against the cold floors. You pushed yourself up using the edge of the table. “Ugh… I’m beat, I’m going home,” you waved your hand absently.

“Oh, don’t forget to take lover boy with you,” Alex points to Carter.

“Huh? Oh, yeah, Carter, I’ll give you a ride,” you beckoned him with your hand.

“Oh, nah, it’s fine,” Carter shakes his hand.

“Okay, better for me, just walk,” you grabbed your keys from the counter, taking a glance at the clock next to you. “Oh shit,” you grabbed the digital device.

“What’s wrong?” Alex asks.

“It’s been two weeks here!” You shout. “Fuck! There’s going to be so much paperwork!” You ruffled your hair harshly.

“Ah, and so the captain faces her hardest battle yet,” Alex laughs, grabbing the door for you, “deadlines.”

“I can and will kill you, Alex.”

~

Cassandra stood at the top of Wayne Manor. Her knuckles had turned white from how hard she was gripping the chimney top. Maybe she shouldn’t have been lurking, but when Jason suddenly texted the group chat she knew she had to come immediately. But, when she saw you sitting in the living room, just waiting for your brothers to return, all the warning signals flew up in her mind.

Threat, thief, murderer, soldier, suspicious, trained, dangerous, and god knows how more. Cassandra couldn’t believe it, no, she didn’t want to believe it. You were just sitting there, how could you set off all those alarms in her head? Wait, how could you do that? You weren’t supposed to show those to her. You were supposed to be happy, relaxed, calm, excited, or maybe even worried or concerned. But, there was one signal that kept popping up over and over again in Cass’ head.

Liar.

You acted just like (Y/N), you looked just like her, you sounded just like her, but every subliminal thing about you was not (Y/N) Wayne. But, underlying all of those, was fear. Were you maybe keeping things to yourself? Was it to protect the family? Why? 

Why did you steal those files from the bat computer? Cassandra saw all of it, staying hidden in the shadows just as she was taught, she watched you upload details on who knows how many heroes into a simple flash drive, and how that was possible, Cass didn’t know. The security system should’ve fried that drive and alerted Tim or Barbara as soon as you pushed it into its port but it didn’t.

Yet, you knew the password. She saw you. You typed in the correct password, but you hesitated. Why did you hesitate? Why would you? It’s not like Bruce had ever changed it from your birthday. For a computer harboring so many secrets, the password to access it was just so simple. Your initials, underscore, then your birthday. Two capitals and no spaces. Not just anyone knew that password, Cass had only found out off-hand when, surprise, she watched Bruce put it in. Perhaps it was what she read off of you when you typed in your password. Anxious, and maybe even melancholic. Why would an imposter feel sad about a password? There would be no reason.

It was that reasoning that convinced Cass that you were, truly, you. Just with different life experiences, maybe. More experiences than death certainly. She only overheard it, your story about the lab. But when you said that, all your body language indicated were lies. How different could it have been, though? What happened to suddenly change your mannerisms fundamentally?

Did it, maybe, have something to do with your heart? Why did you continue to clutch it so throughout the short time you were in the manor?

Cass had too many questions, all of which she’d know would go unanswered. Now, just as she watched you disappear with two unknown figures, she could only feel her knees buckle while she sat against the roof tiles.

She didn’t even get to say ‘hello.’

[eaglebow09]

BOTW OC: Anya (Rito/Hylian)

Anya, an orphan residing on the outskirts of Rito Village, bears the weight of her mixed heritage – a combination of Rito and Hylian blood that has marked her as an outsider among the locals. Her origins trace back to a unique and controversial love story between her Hylian mother and her Rito warrior father.

Anya possesses a bold and adventurous spirit, driven by an unwavering determination that has endured despite years of isolation and rejection within her own Rito community. The shadows of her past cast a cloud over her self-confidence, yet she remains resolute in her quest to discover her true origins and purpose, to find solace amid the enigma of her existence.

Fiercely independent and unyielding in the face of adversity, Anya's spirit shines through her tenacity.  Anya shares a complex history with Revali, once childhood friends before their relationship took a tumultuous turn. During their youth, Revali's exceptional talents and the praise he received began to fuel a growing sense of superiority. This newfound self-assuredness led him to distance himself from Anya, convinced that her presence would only tarnish his reputation and hinder his pursuit of greatness. As the years passed, their once-strong friendship dissolved into a bitter rivalry, marred by deep-seated animosity and contempt. By the time adulthood arrived, Anya and Revali had become bitter adversaries, their past friendship now a distant memory.She refuses to be subdued by Revali's attempts to belittle or undermine her, consistently meeting his challenges head-on with a fiery resolve. Loyalty runs deep within her, and she is willing to make great sacrifices for the sake of her friends, embodying a sense of unwavering commitment.

Once she sets her sights on a goal, Anya becomes a force of unrelenting determination, ready to overcome any obstacle that stands in her path. Her primary objective in our story is to unravel the mysteries of her past, a pursuit fueled by her determination and the hope of finally finding inner peace amid the chaos of her existence. --------------------------------------------- I wanted to a colored version of her so you all could see what she looks like and get an idea of what I see when I draw her. I am new to color so be gentle haha. This is an original character (oc course) for a (Revali x OC) webcomic I have been working on. I post on my Deviantart page and Chapters 1,2 & 3 are already out.

I know what it's like to make efforts to stay in touch with my culture and respect my ancestors and that which came before me. At times you feel lost, half yourself, torn, and otherwise unsure of who you are. People guess, and try to make assumptions about you before they want to know and the world can be unkind. I use to be bullied when I was younger because of my family standing out in the community I grew up in but no matter what I tried to stay the course and only in recent years I have found a sense of harmony in all of it.

I created Anya not just a character in a fandom I love; But I want her to be an example and a reminder that, regardless of our origins, we all possess the power to shine brightly. That we can be propelled by the legacy of our ancestors. I myself am a mixed kid (O'odham and Mexican) and hope that it resonates as I write more on how she moves forward to uncover her past and embrace her unique heritage, It can serve as a testament to the resilience and strength that lie within us all.

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[bananadrinkxxx]

THE BLOOD CROWN

[Aemond Fanfiction ]

Pairing:  Aemond Targaryen x OC female!

Warning:  Dark Romance / Enemies to Lovers.

PART 7

The night Rhaenyra Targaryen lost her daughter was the night she also lost something of herself. A part of herself.

It was a feeling she would never forget.

A knife thrust that never healed and kept hitting the wound it had once left.

This powerlessness, this ignorance, was unbearable. It taunted her every day, hitting her again and again.

She had lost a child once before.

Her stillborn girl was the second.

Lucerys was not allowed to become the third.

It was like a slap in the face when they had brought her the news that they were holding Lucerys captive. Not only were they stealing her throne, they were stealing her son.

Rhaenyra knew she shouldn't favor a child, a mother didn't, but everything about Luke reminded Rhaenyra of her lost child, her poor girl, out there somewhere alone, without her.

When Lucerys was young, her little boy was always afraid. He had always clung to her skirt and blinked out from there when he thought it was safe. A trait he had developed only after Aemma was gone.

The absence of his shadow haunted her. She clung to Aegon, bouncing him on her hip and kissing the top of his white-blond hair as he pressed against her, small fists knotted into the heavy black fabric that stretched across her breasts.

Aegon was now as old as Aemma had been then.

Rhaenyra pushed away the despair and fixed her pale gaze firmly on the painted table lit with fire.

"I have considered giving up my throne," she confessed. Daemon looked up, his gaze dark. "I have considered it. For the realm, for my children, for.... For Aegon's dream." She looked to Aegon, who looked at her questioningly. He didn't understand what she was talking about. Good. He should keep innocence as long as possible. "But then they took my children from me. One by one."

She pressed her lips together.

It would have been a girl.

A second girl.

Would that have been cheating on Aemma?

She had wanted to name it Visenya. Aemma had loved that name. She had always wanted a little sister, just like Rhaenyra had when she was young.

Rhaenyra looked at Daemon again. Their eyes met. He looked down.

A snort left Rhaenyra.

He couldn't look her in the eye. He hadn't been able to since he put his fingers around her neck, and then she had to stop herself from laughing in his face. The demon's shame is a tangible thing, wet and beating, and every time his gaze met hers, she saw the plea for forgiveness he hoped she would give him.

Her father had always told her the idea that the Targaryens controlled the dragons was an illusion. She sees the truth every time she looks at her husband. Every time she looks in the mirror. They were dragons. Daemon was a dragon.

No one could control him. It was just a matter of time now. He wanted war and Rhaenyra had opposed him. She wondered if she had given in to his desire for revenge and blood, if Lucerys would be sitting here with her. With her, safe.

"It's their fault that I lost Visenya," Rhaenyra whispered to the flames. Her hand ran through Aegon's hair. His eyes were closed. "They stole my crown. They stole my son. And they probably stole my beloved Aemma, too." It was the first time that Rhaenyra also uttered these words. Previously, she had always banished the thought that Alicent could have taken her daughter from her. She had believed in the good in her former friend, a woman she had loved as her own sister. By the gods, how much she had loved Alicent after all. "And they will answer for it. One by one. If I have to claim every head for it."

She promised. Rhaenyra Targaryen was the queen of the Seven Kingdoms. It was her birthright. It is the birthright of her children.

Slowly, Rhaenyra got up and handed her sleeping child to one of the wet nurses.

"Daemon," she said, looking at the table in front of her. The coals were still glowing. They showed her who was her friend and who was her enemy. Traitors. They would all burn. One by one they would burn. "I will get my son back. I will let Westeros burn if they take Lucerys from me, do you understand me?"

Rhaenyra remembered that Alicent had not even written to her when Aemma disappeared.

She had hoped so much that her old friend would stand by her.

Betrayed by her own friend.

More than once.

Rhaenyra looked at her husband. "Daemon," she insisted, voice trembling. It felt wrong and right at the same time.

She had not wanted this war.

Daemon looked into her eyes. "Where do we start, my queen?" he asked. He stood up and stood at the table.

"Tell me what you know," Rhaenyra demanded. "Tell me who my allies are. Allies I can count on. Leave nothing out."

Daemon named her allies and the one who had turned against her. Despite oaths. He named those who hesitated.

"What will happen if I give the order to attack?"

Daemon looked at her. "They will burn."

"And I'm going to be the one who started this war, right?"

"They started it when they crowned Aegon king."

"What will happen to Lucerys? Are they going to kill him?"

"Probably." She winced. Alicent would never let that happen, she believed. But she didn't know Alicent anymore. Maybe she had never known this woman.

"What if I bend the knee? Will they give it back to me?"

Daemon said nothing, but she already knew the answer.

Probably it was the only thing she knew.

That the Greens would never leave her in peace.

Even if she bent the knee.

They would always demand a sign of her loyalty. Something to weaken her.

If she chose this war, she would choose against Lucerys.

Against Jacaerys. Against Joffrey.

Against every single child.

Rhaenyra looked at her own hands and realized that she did not know them.

Basically, she didn't know anything about herself anymore.

Would she still be a mother they could respect?

Would she still be a mother she could respect?

Was the respect of her children worth more to her than the lives of her children?

Rhaenyra had to confess. She didn't know.

Who was she anymore, anyway? What had the Greens made of her? Was she capable of being a monster? Was she capable of becoming a murderer?

She did not know.

The only thing she knew was that there was this possessive feeling of revenge inside her. She would destroy those who wronged her. Took something from her. She knew that no matter how she made her decision, it would always go one way. Revenge on those who took her children from her.

̶T̶H̶E̶ ̶B̶L̶O̶O̶D̶ ̶C̶R̶O̶W̶N̶

Alicent was no longer as stupid and naive as she had been when she was a girl.

When she was a girl, she had firmly believed that one day she would be happy, with a lord who loved her and her best friend Rhaenyra. She remembered their conversations, how they spoke longingly of having adventures and eating cake. Every time Alicent had gnawed on her own fingers to fill the fear in her belly, Rhaenyra would gently grab her hands and tell her that she would save her from every haunted thought she ever had. That she would protect Alicent, and Alicent had believed her. Every single word. When Alicent was a fool, she dreamed of knights who would save her from her folly, and that Rhaenyra would stand by her side, but Alicent was no longer a young fool. If you marry a dragon, give birth to dragons, Alicent may not be a dragon, but she knew how they think. She knew how they worked, and how they needed to be guided, rather than told to do things. Always under the cloak of support. She was not stupid. A woman's word had to be supportive, perhaps still instructing, but not commanding.

"My queen," Talya says, fiddling with a fresh set of bed linens. She met Alicent's eyes and then her gaze flickered away.

"Talya," Alicent says. She looked at her fingers. They were disgusting.

"My queen, are you all right?" asked Talya.

Alicent stared at her for a long moment, then slid out of bed. "Yes," she answered, "help me get dressed." Talya remained silent and did as she was told.

When Alicent was dressed, Alicent surveyed herself in her mirror for a moment. She looked tired, exhausted, old. Not a reflection she liked to see. The last few days had been tiring for her, had driven her to despair.

Visery's death had affected her more than she had thought. She had done her duty, been a good wife to him and supported him, and even though he was never someone she had imagined for her later life, she had developed a love for him that she had not thought possible. He had been a good man. A lovable one, and Alicent had loved him. It was far from, the passionate love she had imagined as a little girl, but it had been a love that had warmed her heart. Not romance, perhaps. But love.

Ser Criston was waiting for her after standing watch. He greeted her and she returned his greeting. After that, they were silent. Alicent felt no need to speak. Krieg was at her door, knocking on it, demanding her blood. The blood of her children.

She knew that Lucerys captivity would not go unpunished. That Rhaenyra would not forgive them for this act. She would come. And she would claim their heads for it. And if it wasn't Rhaenyra, it was Daemon.

Alicent drove away the feeling of injustice that was thoughtlessly trying to befall her. She was not innocent. Perhaps she had never been. It had begun with her concealing from Rhaenyra her secret meetings with the king. Then with the fact that she had bullied Rhaenyra for years. There were hundreds of points Alicent thought back on and wanted to slap her memory of. She didn't deserve her own pity.

She had sinned and she knew that the Stranger would hold it against her the day she died.

If Rhaenyra would not beat him to it.

But that was not possible, was it?

Aemma was gone, presumed dead, Larys had assured her that all the men involved in her abduction were dead and that there was not a single witness.

She had seen Aemma go overboard.

There was no way a five-year-old could survive that. Right?

"We've been hiding too long," Aemond said as the small council gathered. He is deliberate with his words and drew the attention of those present. "The blacks are gaining strength with each passing day. Daemon flies through the Riverlands gathering allies around him, allies for the Blacks. With every second we let pass, Rhaenyra becomes more powerful."

Ottos nodded. "That is true, my boy, but what do you intend to do?"

Aemond leaned forward and drummed his fingertips on the table. "Let's give Rhaenyra one last ultimatum. I will fly to the Riverlands myself on Vhagar and deliver it," Aemond said. "I will remind them of our strength, and if war breaks out, let it be the Blacks' fault for gathering them. For refusing our generous offer."

"I think that's a mistake," Alicent interjected. She chewed on her fingers. "It's too dangerous."

"I fly the world's oldest dragon, Mother," Aemond noted. "I'm not afraid."

"I believe you, but Daemon is unpredictable."

"I'll go with him," Aegon suggested, but Alicent immediately shook his head. "No way, you're the king."

"A king hiding here while he sends his brother off to war?"

"You stay here," Otto agreed. "It would be far too hasty. Aemond will remind the lord's and lady's who sits on the iron throne. Supporting Rhaenyra is treason and they should all know it. Nothing more."

They had all agreed in the end that Aemond should fly alone. No war had officially broken out yet and they suspected that Rhaenyra, like themselves, would not make the first move.

As Aemond flew away on Vhagar, Alicent looked after him dejectedly.

̶T̶H̶E̶ ̶B̶L̶O̶O̶D̶ ̶C̶R̶O̶W̶N̶

Since their kiss, Aemond had ignored her.

At first, she had been almost relieved not to have to face this unpleasantness, but the realization had quickly given way to confusion.

It didn't surprise her much, but it still hurt her in a way she hadn't thought possible.

She wondered if he was angry with her, or regretted the kiss.

Probably the latter.

Aemond had set out this morning. She had watched him take off into the sky on Vhagar. He was gone and had not even said goodbye to her. Not that he would have to. 

"Where are you with your thoughts?" asked Dyana, bringing Rose back to reality. She was getting new bedding for the prince, Dyana was doing the same for Prince Daeron. She was now assigned to the youngest prince.

"I just didn't sleep well," Rose lied, though it actually wasn't even a lie. She was actually sleeping poorly.

The kiss with Aemond haunted her dreams and tortured her during the day.

"How is Prince Lucerys?" asked Rose to divert attention from herself. She knew Dyana was one of the few women assigned to the prince. Rose had not seen him since the day Aemond caught her with Lucerys. She did not dare to ask him if she could visit the young prince. The probability that the prince would cut off her head as a result was too high.

"He is tired, exhausted, eats not much," Dyana said. Her voice was pitiful. "He asked for you."

Rose looked at her in surprise.

"Did he?"

Dyana nodded and moved closer to her to whisper. "He talks about you a lot. I guess you've made a lasting impression." A meaningful smile was on her lips, but Rose just shook her head.

It wasn't like that.

Rose couldn't describe the connection to Lucerys, but he had triggered a feeling in her as if she had known him since forever.

"Well, then. Let's just hope Princess Rhaenyra bends the knee and the prince gains freedom."

"You think she'll bend the knee?"

Dyana considered for a moment. "Probably rather not. But I don't want to imagine what will happen to the prince if she doesn't."

Rose didn't want to either. She wondered if the Greens were it to execute a prince.

Kinslayer.

Would Aemond dare to kill his nephew? She knew that he hated Lucerys. In part, she understood his anger, too. He had taken his eye. It had been no small thing, but she wondered if his hatred went so far that he would accept his nephew's death for it?

"That's the girl!," a voice suddenly sounded behind him, and Rose turned in surprise. The septa was standing a few feet away from them, and to Rose's horror, pointed directly at her. Confused, she dropped the bedclothes when suddenly two guards from the Kingsguard approached and grabbed her. Their grip was hard and unyielding.

"What's happening?" asked Dyana fearfully. Rose looked startled at the men dragging her along. Rose did not know what happened to her.

"What are you doing?" exclaimed Rose, trying to break away from the men, but to no avail. They were much stronger than her and two of them at that.

Rose looked fearfully at Dyana, who shared her fear, but when she tried to step forward, the septa grabbed her by the shoulder and pulled her back.

"Stay here, child, or you too will sin."

Sin?

What sin was she supposed to have committed?

Rose's gaze met Septa's eyes and she saw the evil in them. Hatred and satisfaction as Rose was held clutched, completely at the woman's mercy.

"Take that wench to the dungeons."

[frostythefrostedfox]

Fellas, I have a confession to make.

I genuiely and unironically believe that Fortnite’s premise to offer me a character for every ocassion I wish to engage in, whether gameplay-related (kinda going meta and stuff), roleplay related (like using only lightsabers with star wars characters, or webswingers with spiderman character) or social related (kratos, master chief, leon kennedy and doomguy playing barbie girl at the festival) really fills their promise of “every character from everything”.

The artstyle, while it has its shortcoming on certain crossovers (Ahsoka looks like shit and you can't change my mind) and certain OC designs (Lennox IRL set), most of the time it stands out on its own with charming visuals and creative colour palettes, like Oscar the glow in the dark tiger, while, in case of crossovers, respecting enough of the original design to still make it recognizeable as that character; and you can totally tell when a character came out of Fortnite just by how they look, the shooter gameplay is fun and compliments the art style, and is so customizable that in case you don't think that, you can make it more appealing to you.

Playing this game reminds me of being a kid and playing with Clone Troopers mixed with Max Steel figures fighting against The Covenant and WW2 Germans just because those were the first toys I grabbed from the top of my box and sure, let's roll with that, I can make up a story to make this work, it makes sense to me and that's all it matters. It’s like one big toy box game that doesn’t take itself seriously, Goku doing the "party party" emote on the hoverboard is actually funny, Omniman dancing to Titi me pregunto after getting a kill always makes me chuckle, Spidergwen holding an RPG and blasting someone into the shadow realm with it looks so disproportionate as the gun is like twice as wide as she is that you can't stop thinking "what did I just saw?".

I enjoy playing the no-build mode and I actually have a great deal of fun with friends, getting into some actually engaging gunfights. The festival mode is actually very engaging and fun, and with the new animations of the Billie Ellish season it looks much more alive, like watching a cutscene, like this mishmash of characters from so many different franchises on your screen performing XO Tour Life by Lil Uzi Vert looks like it belongs together and that you're watching something that was meant to look like that. That hearing Wasted (the Juice WRLD song) vocals with Gamnam Style lead and the basline of Party Rock all backed by the instrumental of Roses is a remix that was meant to happy and this totally wasn't the result of 4 strangers randomly pressing buttons.

Fortnite is not a bad game, y'all are just mean.

[sam-glade]

Happy WBW! One of your OCs is tasked with telling bedtime stories for some children tonight. What story do they tell? Where did that story come from?

Thank you💜 This is an amazing ask, and very relevant to my main setting. This world is built on stories.

The tale of the Four Cloaks is one of the best-known ones:

A poor seamstress wanted to sell a cloak. To make it more appealing, she promised to imbue it with the power of a word of the customer’s choice, which she intended to embroider onto the fabric. A young rich man who collected such curiosities bought the cloak with the word ‘beauty’. Within days he gathered many admirers and false friends, while the true ones forsook him. He grew arrogant and faded away out of loneliness. 

A thief plundering his house found the cloak and a short note about its origin. They traced it back to the seamstress and demanded a cloak with the word ‘shadow’. It gave them opportunities no one else had dreamt of, and they became the legendary merchant of whispers, who is said to operate still in the City of Light, although other versions say that they were killed by a stray bullet in a duel they'd arranged. 

A scholar investigated the legend of the Shadow and found out about the cloak and the seamstress. She requested a cloak with the word ‘silence’, so that she might listen and learn, rather than talk over people. She was the author of countless texts and treatises that shaped the understanding of the world around us. Yet she didn't speak, and her work was discovered only after her passing.

Finally a young apprentice who tidied her study found the cloak and wanted to see how the seamstress was doing. When he found her, she was old, with arthritic hands and faltering sight. However, she offered to make one last cloak as a thanks for his concern. He chose the word ‘goodness’, but there was no symbol for it, no ideograph in the alphabet. There was ‘kindness’, ‘charity’, and ‘good will’, but no symbol for the general concept. The apprentice told her to stitch a rough picture of open hands, and she warned him that it won’t have the same power as the other cloaks. It didn’t matter to him. He didn’t want to be forced to do good, but only to be reminded of what’s right and wrong.

It is said that this young apprentice was later crowned as the Sun King.

'Real' version below the cut:

[As told by the White Dragon, Prince Anthea's predecessor and her grandfather, who effectively created this state from nothing. So you know, not exactly impartial ;) ]

“I know that the Weaveress made it. I also suspect that the fairy tale isn’t true,” Erya said hesitantly.

“No, it is not entirely true. Allow me to tell you what really happened. I assure you, it is relevant.” Erya acknowledged. “My wife was among other things an Elemental Dancer, favoured by Matter. We knew each other before the Battle of the Burning Banners, and the ‘clients’ from the story were all trusted friends of ours. They were some of the wisest, most virtuous people I have ever known. However, only one of them could be the King to unite the people under a single rule. The choice was not easy, and the Cloaks helped us decide. There were six of them, not four: Charity, Wisdom - although a King should rely on their own wisdom, and the person who chose it soon realised it - Patience, Perseverance, the Open Hands, which yes, was the one worn by the Sun King, and finally the Shadow. We had concerns about this choice, but the person explained that they did not want to stand above other people and wished to remain humble, so they wanted to walk among their subjects as one of them. All of these cloaks, except the Open Hands as the story says, were imbued with my wife’s power… and had certain properties which we did not reveal to the wearers.”

Prince Atterius paused, clearly enjoying Erya’s stunned expression. She closed her mouth, but still stared.

“The Cloaks give power to the people wearing them, and the power corrupts, making the people crave it and be unwilling to part with it. We had to make sure that the King would not be corrupted. The people wearing Charity, Patience, and Perseverance realised what was going on, took off the Cloaks as quickly as they could, and admitted that they were not suitable to hold this much power. The Shadow was corrupted and disappeared.”

“The King’s Cloak didn’t have any power,” Erya pointed out weakly.

“No, it did not. After five attempts, we were running out of time, and He was the first one not tempted by the advantages a Cloak could give.”

[biffhofosho]

Vixen

Fandom: Monsta X

Genre: Smut, natch.

Word Count: 8.5k

Pairing: Hyungwon x OC

Trope: Strangers to lovers

Synopsis: Inside this room, he finds his doom.

The Vibe: Abandoned buildings, quiet fall nights, cocky boys who refuse to turn down a dare, best frenemies, dense shadows, overactive imaginations, mysterious strangers, overt song references, fighting a losing battle, doing as nature compels, straight up wild fucking, need need need, lust for dominance, the illusion of control, peril, open questions with clues to the answer for the curious reader, who is she?

A/N:  The first of my October vibe fics! We’ll see the next one in about a week! 

“Wildfire” kind of ruined my life in the most spectacular way, so much like “Tailor Made,” this fic is inspired heavily by the song. Hearing Hyungwon singing those lines demanded something a little spooky and definitively naughty. Felt like experimenting in present tense for a change, too. Oh, what this boy does to me. Down bad.

He isn’t supposed to be here.

Hyungwon knows that. How could he not? Jooheon is convinced the place is haunted, and Hoseok says there isn’t enough ramyun in the world to convince him to walk through those doors, which hang like crooked teeth over a crumbling tongue of weed-infested steps. But it isn’t Minhyuk’s childish dare that ultimately propels him up to the front stoop of the abandoned building; it’s Kihyun’s firm order that Hyungwon is not to do it.

Hyungwon turns around and looks at his six friends. Most of them look worried, save for Kihyun, who’s definitely annoyed, and Minhyuk, who’s positively delighted.

“Remember,” says Minhyuk with his phone out and his timer up, “you have to stay in for a whole hour. If you come out early, I get your PS5.”

Hyungwon scoffs and syncs his timer with his friend’s. “Yeah, yeah, and when I see you in an hour, I get your Gucci messenger.”

“And if you don’t come back out in an hour, don’t expect anyone to go in looking for you,” snaps Kihyun, but Hyunwoo is shaking his head, so Hyungwon knows the eldest will come charging in there regardless looking for him the second the timer ticks to zero.

“This is a stupid bet. Why don’t we just forget it and go get some fried chicken?” Hoseok suggests.

“Let them do what they’re going to do,” Changkyun says with a shrug and goes back to scrolling through his phone without another glance up.

“That’s the problem. Hyungwon always does what he wants to do,” quips Kihyun.

And thanks to that one sentence, it doesn’t matter what anyone else says. Hyungwon is going in. He and Kihyun have been sparring all week since Hyungwon overslept and missed half of their group project session, so he’s bound and determined to put an end to Kihyun’s carping at least until the next time he oversleeps.

Before anyone else can squeeze in another comment, Hyungwon has wriggled through the gap in the sagging boards and leaves behind his biggest critic and all their friends. The moment he’s on the other side of those doors though, his bravado fades. Spite is all well and good to feed his challenge with Kihyun, but it’s no match for his own fertile imagination, which is currently having a field day with his surroundings.

The building is in even worse shape on the inside than it is on the outside. It smells like rot and mildew, and right away, Hyungwon’s “emphysema lungs”—as Minhyuk affectionately calls them—flare up with a cough that he manages to choke down… just in case someone is listening, even though he reminds himself again and again he’s alone. He’s alone.

Hyungwon’s not sure what kind of business this once was, but it was some kind of office judging from the broken typewriter and cobwebbed filing cabinets laying on their sides on the floor. Random ledgers and books litter the rooms and leather chairs spew their cushioning through old tears. It’s hard to tell exactly how long this place has been abandoned, but there’s an old invoice wedged under a busted lamp and a layer of filth that Hyungwon thinks reads “1982.”

It seems odd that a business would leave so much property behind when it closed, let alone in such a scattered mess, and right away, his imagination charges toward the inevitable conclusion that maybe it wasn’t a bankruptcy that drove out these people but something menacing like a fire or a murderer.

Or a ghost.

Hyungwon slaps his cheeks to knock Jooheon’s scaredy-cat voice from his brain.

The urge to serve out his hour just inside the entryway is overwhelming, but that’s not the whole dare. Hyungwon has to make it to the fourth floor—to the room with the moth-eaten curtains where Jooheon swears he saw the ghost of a girl—and wave his phone to everyone below.

He supposes it’s better to do it now rather than later. His friends might think he’s chickening out, and even if he is, he doesn’t want to look like it, not with Yoo Kihyun waiting with an “I told you so” already in the chamber.

Hyungwon takes a deep breath and then a step forward. The board immediately creaks underfoot, but at least it feels solid. He’s not so sure the stairs will be in as good a shape, which is what Hyunwoo was worried about, but Minhyuk said that was part of the challenge.

There isn’t a spot on the floor that doesn’t wail with each footstep, and if a murderous hobo is living upstairs, as Kihyun assumes, there’s no way it doesn’t know a trespasser is on his way.

Hyungwon instead chooses to focus on structural integrity before his mind can manifest a half dozen scary stories, so he plots a course through the hallway toward the stairwell, which is easy to spot thanks to the alley floodlight spearing the holes in the filmy windows. His shoes leave footprints in the dust, so at least he’ll be easy for Hyunwoo to track when he plummets through the floor into the spider-infested basement.

Okay, this was a stupid bet to take, Hoseok was right. It’s not just dangerous—it’s gross here. Hyungwon doesn’t like bugs or dirt or unnecessarily risky adventures. He likes iced americanos and sleeping and arguing with his bossy friends about sleeping, all of which he should be doing now instead of this.

Something creaks overhead.

Automatically, the hairs on the back of his neck prickle.

It can’t be a ghost—ghosts don’t have feet, right? It can’t be a murderous hobo—they certainly do have feet, but there’s nowhere in this damn building that doesn’t squeak to hide the other footsteps. It must be a rat or maybe a raccoon. Instead of being reassured, Hyungwon is disgusted. He should just leave. He can always buy another PS5. Might take him a while, but it would be awfully hard to save up if he’s suffering from the bubonic plague.

But then there’s that sharp-eyed, sharp-tongued plague of a best friend out front, no doubt waiting for his own smug victory lap, and that resolves Hyungwon’s mind—the bubonic plague probably has fewer lingering side effects than being bested by Yoo Kihyun.

Hyungwon reaches the stairs. He’s happy to see they’re concrete and in relatively sturdy shape. The railings are another matter—wooden and rotted through—so he’ll have to take his chances without a handhold. He decides to hug the wall, where the integrity should be much stronger, and he heads upstairs.

By the second floor, he’s feeling confident, and by the third, he’s feeling cocky again. But by the fourth, reality sets in. Hyungwon is where he’s supposed to be, but he also feels like he’s definitely not supposed to be here.

For all intents and purposes, the fourth floor looks like the first—filthy and cluttered and creepy—though it’s better lit thanks to the holes in the roof and a brighter stream of streetlights from more sides. But the brighter light has the unintended consequence of casting ominous shadows from things that shouldn’t be terrifying but now are.

Hyungwon nearly teeters backwards down the steps when he catches sight of a coatrack out of the corner of his eye, and he definitely lets out a gasp when he rounds the corner toward the front room and sees a figure at the end of the corridor. That turns out to be a fake potted tree though, and he’s left feeling like both an idiot and a chicken.

There’s another creak, and he flinches before he realizes this one comes from him as he heads down the hallway. This one has a carpet runner, and every footstep wafts up mold and dust that sends his emphysema lungs into a spasming frenzy that he can’t choke back.

His hacking coughs reverberate up and down the fourth floor, and there’s literally no way a murderous hobo won’t hear him now. Hyungwon outright races toward the front room because what’s the point of keeping quiet now if Jooheon’s angry spirits are already onto him?

He reaches the front of the building, out of breath and sweating profusely despite the short jaunt, and checks his timer. Fifty-three minutes left.

Damnit.

Hyungwon glances right then left, double-checking for the curtained room he’s supposed to enter. It’s on the right, and he sighs. He did it. Now just to put on his best indifferent face as a metaphorical middle finger for Kihyun and Minhyuk…

Hyungwon flexes his jaw and shakes out the tension from his face before he enters the room. He heads straight for the window and finds his six friends steadfastly watching for him. Hoseok is draped all over Jooheon, relief visible like a lighthouse even from the fourth floor. Kihyun is scowling per usual while Minhyuk still manages to look confident he will win. Changkyun and Shownu show no emotion, but Hyungwon knows from their dead-eye stares that that’s how they show their support.

Hyungwon waves his phone as instructed, and Hoseok gives two thumbs up. Now, it’s just a matter of the countdown.

He opens his camera app to take a self-righteous selfie, and the second he flips the angle, he’s covered in gooseflesh.

Something is behind him, and it’s definitely not a tree or a coatrack and it’s much too big to be a rat. The light is dim so the camera is struggling with graininess, but whatever’s behind him moves, and Hyungwon’s skin crawls. It’s a subtle shift, as though it doesn’t want to be seen or doesn’t want to be there either, until it finally disappears.

Exactly like a ghost…

Maybe it would be better to pretend he hasn’t seen it at all, but Hyungwon really doesn’t have a choice. He sucks in a hard and fast breath.

He turns around as if in slow motion and finds the other occupant huddled in the corner.

It isn’t a ghost at all, nor is it a murderous hobo.

It’s a woman.

She’s making herself very small from her perch on top of a desk in the corner. Her arms are wrapped around her shins and her chin is behind her knees so only her very wide eyes are peeping at him. When their gazes connect, everything changes for reasons he can’t possibly fathom.

She springs down from the desk, landing on feet so light that the floor doesn’t even creak. She races forward, stopping halfway to Hyungwon. Her head cocks to the side as though she’s trying to figure out why another human’s here instead of the ghost maybe they both were expecting.

“Oh! Hello!” she says. Whatever fear she’d harbored vanishes. Her voice is cute, a little like a bark of an excited puppy. She’s clearly surprised but, still, she’s waving at him, her hand like a metronome on the highest speed.

“H-hi,” Hyungwon stutters. He sounds stupid, but at least he answers.

He studies her eyes first. They slant up at the edges with mesmerizing brown irises in the center. They might look predatory in the wrong face, but in hers, they’re eager and alert and trained solely on him. Her wavy hair is streaked with brown and auburn and even a funny little strip of white at her crown that somehow makes her look younger instead of older. Her ears stick out, accentuating the cuteness in an already cute face.

A sweater swallows up her petite athletic frame just as her sweatpants do to her legs. She looks so soft and small compared to his long, wiry frame that Hyungwon has the irrational urge to pet her on his lap. He wonders if she’d purr. Okay, that’s a ludicrous thought, but he can’t stop himself from thinking it.

But as cute as she is, there are a few weird scars that catch his eye, too. Even though her hands are fidgeting inside those long sleeves, he sees the raised scratches on them. They’re old, dark brown against her fair skin, and in neat parallel lines of four. Peaking just above the sagging neckline of her sweater, there are a few more scars, but these are not scratches but punctures.

Her ears twitch as she smiles. “What’s your name?”

“Chae Hyungwon,” he says with the same robotic voice he always did for class roll calls.

“What are you doing here, Chae Hyungwon?”

She doesn’t say her name back, and she’s already asked another question, so it would be rude to ask his own instead of answering hers.

“I don’t know,” he replies, only realizing a second later that he knows exactly why he’s here but he’d completely forgotten for a moment. “I mean, my friends dared me to spend an hour in here. Some of them think this place is haunted. I don’t, uh, um, obviously, so, yeah, that’s the story of me in this place.”

She cocks her head, and her big ears twitch again with the motion. “Your friends are in here, too?”

She sounds a little tenser now, and she looks it, too. She’s fast and restless and bouncy, pacing along the edge of the room now somewhere between anxious and excited, and Hyungwon isn’t sure if that’s because of him or his friends or that’s just who she is.

“No, they’re waiting for me outside. See?”

He moves to the window and waves down, everyone but Kihyun waving back.

She doesn’t move to the window. In fact, she backs a little further into the corner again.

“Are you here on a dare, too?”

“Sort of,” she says.

“Mine’s an hour,” Hyungwon repeats and then realizes he's already said that. He’s really batting a thousand here…

“Mine’s a little longer than that.”

“Overnight, huh?” he says with a frown, trying to imagine one corner of this spider palace that even he, a world champion sleeper, could find comfortable enough to bed down. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” she says, still looking warily to the window. “Time’s almost up. I just have to tough it out a little longer.”

Hyungwon presses his lips together as he studies her. There’s a pile of clothes on the desk behind her all balled up. They’re dirty, too, but not covered in the layers of filth like the rest of this place.

He narrows his eyes. “Are your friends spending the night, too?”

“No. They think I’m being silly. They don’t want me here.”

Hyungwon smiles a little. “Neither do mine. So, what’s to stop you from leaving?”

“Me,” she replies simply.

“You sound like my friend Kihyun. He’s good at following through on things or, more importantly, making everyone else follow through on things. If he weren’t standing right outside, I’d have already gone home. Not because I’m scared,” he’s quick to add. “Because there are tons of other things I’d rather be doing.”

“Like what?”

She almost sounds like a child when she asks a question. There’s not only genuine interest in it but pure innocence, as though she’s never imagined anything more interesting than this crumbling building.

Hyungwon’s finding it hard to answer again. What is more interesting than this building and the pretty girl in it?

“I don’t know,” he says, “lots of stuff. Sleeping, video games, movies.”

What a lame answer. He’s embarrassed.

But she doesn’t seem to mind. It’s almost like she’s never heard of those things, the way she has her head tilted further to the side. She smiles, toothy and bright.

She’s so cute, he thinks and realizes too late he’s grinning dumbly at her.

Then something passes over her eyes, a little flutter that chases away the brightness there. Her small mouth tightens around the edges, and she’s pacing the wall again. When she speaks, her voice is much heavier. “Maybe you should go and do those things.”

Hyungwon takes a step toward the door. He might be off in his own world half the time, but the other half, he reads people pretty well. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I can wait out my time downstairs now.”

He gives her a quick bow and is about to slip out, confused and more than a little disappointed, when she zips in front of him like a lightning bolt. He had sensed she was fast, but in this foreboding place, he almost jumps out of his skin.

Those angled eyes are wide and jittery as she scopes him out from head to toe. She’s biting her bottom lip. Maybe she’s trying to flirt—Hyungwon is familiar with his effect on women after all—but the more she shifts from foot to foot, he supposes that may just be wishful thinking.

“Hey, are you okay?” he asks.

“I’m not well,” she confesses, “which is why you should leave.”

Hyungwon smiles gently. “I tried, remember?”

The heaviness of guilt anchors the edges of her elegant face as she says, “I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“Is it contagious?”

“I’m not sick—”

“Then let me help you,” he insists. “How can I help you?”

“It would help if you left, Hyungwon,” she says firmly, or maybe it’s desperately. “I won't get in your way this time. But you should hurry.”

Her eyes look even more wild now though they’re darker, narrower. Her nose twitches, too, and it would be cute if it weren’t for those eyes. Just like that, she’s pacing the length of the wall again, and she’s not biting her lip but worrying it.

“I can’t leave just yet,” he replies. That’s true—he still has forty minutes on his timer—but it’s not really honest. He doesn’t want to leave.

It smells different in here now. There’s still the fetid aroma of wet dirt, but it’s appealing now, primitive and animalistic, and it awakens something inside him. Hyungwon never feels like this, like there’s some base need in the pit of his belly growing unchecked and yearning for fulfilment, but right now, looking at this woman challenging him with her feisty eyes and restless stance, an urge to chase her overwhelms. And if the coil in his stomach has its way, it will only be satisfied when he pins her to the ground and takes her as his body demands.

But that’s not Hyungwon. He’s a cool, quiet guy known for lazing around and zoning out. Not to be conceited, but women come to him. He doesn’t have to hunt.

But he wants to.

He wants her.

He knows that’s ridiculous. He doesn’t know this girl, and she’s certainly not the reason he came in here. Literally everything is screaming at him to run from this feeling. It’s an abandoned building with mushrooms growing out of the floorboards, for God’s sake. This isn’t the place to come for a passionate rendezvous or to meet the girl of his dreams—or, at least, maybe not for a guy who likes a bed and his woman on top.

“Stop it,” she says.

“What?”

“Stop looking at me like that.”

Hyungwon swallows hard, knowing he’s been caught. “Sorry. You’re right, I’ll go.”

He takes another step to leave, and again, she blocks the door with her small frame. The weird intensity in her eyes has diffused, and now, they are big and round, looking up apologetically at him. It almost gives him whiplash, and he can hardly believe it’s the same girl.

“That was so rude of me,” she blurts. “Please forgive me. I haven’t talked with anybody in a while, and my manners were always bad to begin with. Please stay if you want to. I mean, I want you to.”

There’s that urge to pounce again, the one that keeps getting stronger by the second and far worse the closer she stands. He realizes that smell—the musky one that gets his blood pumping—is coming from her and not the building. When she’s this close, his mind spins and yet stills on one inevitable conclusion.

He has to have her.

Hyungwon isn’t a forward type of guy, at least not when he’s just met someone. He likes getting to know people, likes connecting with them on deeper levels and likes when they think of him in his own category—as someone they want to run to when they need an ally. He doesn’t leap, he falls—helplessly and accidentally before he even knows he’s tripped. This is different because he’s leaping and falling all at the same time, and he’s painfully aware of all of it.

“Oh, this is really bad,” she says, changing tone again. Her hands are knotted in front of her, and she’s twitching and shifting, but her eyes are steadily lashed to him. “Why didn’t I let you go?”

His mouth is dry, his brain is fuzzy, but his vision is clear and focused on the pretty, wild creature in front of him. “If you still want me to go, I will. I’m not trying to freak you out.”

“It’s not your fault. It’s mine.” Hyungwon doesn’t understand, but before he can say so, she adds, “I can’t help it. It’s not a matter of what I want. I need you—”

“You need me to leave?” he finishes, his voice brittle.

“Yes,” she says slowly, “but…”

“But?”

“I’m sorry, I can’t let you go.”

At just the brush of her fingers on the back of his hand, sparks shower over him. In an instant, his world is consumed by fire. Her nails are sharper than he realized, and they scratch enticingly across his skin.

“I didn’t think it could happen so fast,” she murmurs. “And it was almost over…”

He wants to ask what she means, but the pads of her fingers slip into his hand and stroke his palm in a way that makes his brain short-circuit. What’s left of his thoughts is divided between the way her chest is heaving and the part of her lips as she borderline pants for him.

She reaches a hand up to his cheek and strokes him. Hyungwon closes his eyes and leans into it because he simply has to.

“Why did you have to be so beautiful?” she whispers. “I knew they would tempt me, but I thought I could outrun it.”

“They who?” he mumbles as he falls deeper into her whirlpool gaze.

“Maybe I still can…”

Called by her throaty voice, he leans down expectantly, but she smiles at him and jerks her head to the side at the last second. Hyungwon imagines he sees mischief as much as desire in those eyes, but he’s never met someone so difficult to read—it's like she’s a dozen different books at once.

“If you want me,” she says with freshly wet lips, “you have to catch me.”

With that, she darts through the door and into the hallway. Hyungwon spends only a few seconds weighing his options—it’s a dark, condemned building and she’s a total stranger—before he runs after her.

She is fast, but his legs are long, and he closes the distance between them easily. He thinks he has her just before she reaches the top of the stairs, but then she zips to the left and into another shell of an office. Hyungwon is right on her tail, but she’s nimble and hides behind a dusty desk, squaring off with him in a staring contest. There is fire in her eyes as there no doubt is in his. When she smiles, she looks like she is laughing at him as much as she is baiting him. Her teeth look sharper in the thin light, and her cheeks are blazing. She’s a different person than the timid thing who’d cowered from him on first sight, but then so is he.

Hyungwon is a nice, reasonable guy. He doesn’t play games. He’s open and honest, if sometimes far too blunt. He doesn’t think he’s a pervert even if his usual fantasies sometimes stray into an X-rated realm. But in no time at all, this woman has driven him to some kind of madness. She’s all he can think about. He can smell her all over him. He tastes her already—wild and deep and lingering on his tongue. He feels her, too. He’s done none of those things yet, though that doesn’t stop him from feeling overrun by his desire to do all of them at once.

While Hyungwon is lost in his very intense fantasy of her, she bolts back into the hallway witha savage laugh.

“Shit!” he mutters, and his feet reel underneath him.

He almost misses her disappearing into the room at the end of the hall, and even though he’s sure he saw her come in here, when he finally enters the room, there’s no sign of her, not even a smeared footprint in the dust.

Hyungwon’s heart plummets. She’s gone.

Just like that, she’s vanished from his life, leaving only a monsoon of desperate emotions sloshing in his chest.

He runs his hands through his hair. Was she a ghost? It’s stupid to think that, but maybe it isn’t. Okay, it still is.

Get it together, Hyungwon, he scolds himself.

She’s still here. She has to be. His heart is still hammering and his palms are still sweaty. He can feel her energy charging every inch of him. He leans into that and lets his body, not his brain, guide him through the labyrinth of file rooms and offices. With every footfall, he senses he is closing in. The how is not important, all that matters is that he finds her again.

Hyungwon clears everything on the top floor except the last room in the back corner. By now, his pulse is throbbing in time with his very painful erection, but he is sure she’s in here. He can feel her setting his skin on fire.

The anticipation is driving him crazy. Hyungwon is not one to chase anyone, but the thrill is intoxicating. He's drenched in sweat and steeped in anticipation. Where is she? He needs her.

Now.

The last room is an old conference room, with a big, dusty table, dozens of crumbling boxes, a few scattered chairs, and no exits. She has to be here.

Hyungwon looks for signs of her. There’s a chair on the floor and a handprint on the table. She was here. She must still be here.

His eyes cut through the shadows to which he’s growing more and more accustomed. In the corner, there’s an empty bookshelf, but she’s not beside it. There’s also a storage closet. His gaze sharpens on it.

Quietly, he steps forward, and when he’s right in front of it, he takes a deep breath and yanks the knob.

“Found y—”

His triumph dies on his lips. She’s not in there either.

She’s a ghost after all.

His stomach lurches.

There’s a sudden bump and whoosh, and Hyungwon wheels on his heel. From under the table darts a figure, lean, lithe, and fast as hell. But he’s been waiting—every atom of him has been waiting—and he lunges. His hands close around a narrow waist, and he surges forward until they run out of real estate.

Hyungwon has her caged in against the wall, and she whirls around so their eyes meet. She is much smaller than he is, but she doesn’t cower. Instead, her breath is racing. Her eyes flash along with her teeth. Her excitement charges Hyungwon with some kind of delirium he's never felt for a woman before. He has never been so hard in his whole life. It’s like he was made to fuck this woman. He will never feel fulfilled unless he does. It’s terrifying, but it’s all so natural.

“I don’t know what’s come over me. I swear I’m not usually like this,” he blabbers as he looms over her, panting in her face.

“I know,” she says, and it almost sounds sad. It’s just enough to dam the lust so Hyungwon can think straight again.

“What’s happening to me?”

“You should fight it,” she urges. “You should run.”

“Do you want me to go?”

“I don’t want you to go, Hyungwon. I need you to go. I need you to run.”

His lips press to the crown of her hair. He breathes her in, his mysterious vixen. Her hair smells strongly of mustiness, of nature and the earth, of dampness and decay, but underneath it all, she smells of desire. It’s real. It’s primal.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers.                

“Why do you keep apologizing?” Hyungwon asks, tracing her face with his hand.

It’s the first time there’s some kind of ice in her eyes to temper the flames. “Because I want to make sure you know that I really did try to resist you, but I won’t. I can’t. I want you too much.”

With their fates sealed, she collides with his mouth. Her tongue slides between his, and a burst of cold unfurls in the center of all the heat, almost like she’s been sucking on an ice cube. Hyungwon moans because the sensation is as unexpected as it is delicious. Her nails bite into him sharper than expected, but the pain is a welcome reminder that she is real and not some ghost.

The cold spreads through his body like a riptide, pulling parts of him on a strong current to her. He hasn’t experienced anything like this before. Deep down, he knows she’s right—he should fight; riptides kill—but it also feels like it was always meant to be a losing battle and, more importantly, one he doesn’t mind losing.

But slowly, the cold morphs into heat, a scalding heat the way frostbite feels like fire. The deeper her tongue probes his mouth, the hotter he burns even as he’s frozen in place. Her moan at his taste makes his arm give way beside her, and he tumbles into her, intent on crushing her beneath him.

Her hands spool into his hair in response as her hips rut against his thigh.

Good, she’s as crazy for him as he is for her, and Hyungwon only wants to make her crazier.

There’s so many things he wants to do to her. He wants to taste every inch of her. He wants to suckle at her perky breasts and nibble on her hard clit and eat her out until she can’t walk and he has to carry her everywhere for the next day, but right now, he has to bury himself to his hilt inside her. It’s the only thing that makes sense. It’s what he needs, it’s what she needs—to cum for each other while knotted up together in their dank little love den.

Hyungwon breaks their kiss to grab her shoulders before he swivels her around to bend her over the conference room table. Her hands squeal through years of grime, leaving frenzied tracks of need like wild fucking animals. It rustles up a cloud of dust and mildew that would usually send him into a sneezing fit, but it’s like all his senses beyond his woman have dimmed. He only smells her. He only tastes her. He only needs her.

She lets out a little moan that sets his teeth on edge. Everything about her is egging him on, and he’s losing his mind. His hands find the waist of her pants and yank them down so hard that seams pop. She snarls but so does he.

Her heat slams into him like a radiator waiting to scald the first errant touch. Hyungwon wastes no time. He gropes her sex with his whole hand, letting her dripping core coat his palm in sticky desire. He rubs in a frenzy—he can’t help himself. He’s not sure what he’s doing because he’s never done things like this before. This isn’t him. Hyungwon is a slow lover, a purposeful lover. He likes getting lost in his partners and staying lost. Maybe he’s doing that now, too, but this is far more feral.

“Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me,” she whines, wriggling her ass against him and smearing more of her arousal all over his hand.

Hyungwon unzips his jeans and groans the moment he’s freed from his denim prison. Now, he wants the pressure of her cunt bearing down on him in relentless waves, that riptide pulling him ever deeper inside her. He won’t deny either of them any longer.

He takes the wet lust drenching his hand and smears it along his length so he will be able to take her faster. He can’t waste another second. The head of his cock fits snugly at her entrance. He can feel her pulsing with the promise of a fast, hard fuck, and he’s so sensitive, he’s ready to blow his load before he’s even inside her, so he pushes in without warning.

She yelps, her nails scratching the table, but it’s immediately followed by an obscene moan. She swivels her ass to swallow every last millimeter of his member and whimpers, “It’s been so long, but I don’t remember it ever feeling this good.”

Hyungwon’s brain is combusting. She shouldn’t say these kinds of things to him. They only serve to make him wilder.

One of his hands snakes up under her shirt and grabs one of her tits, squeezing hard as much to hold steady against his fast rhythm as it is to sample yet another one of her secret pleasures. She fits so well in the palm of his hand, too. Her nipple slots between his fingers, and he tightens them, which sends a cry from her lips and a shiver through her cunt.

“Don’t stop,” she begs. “Don’t ever stop.”

“I never will,” he grunts in return.

Maybe it’s the depth of his voice or maybe it’s the crackle of flames in it, but she moans and pushes back hard against him until he bottoms out again. It feels like he’s somewhere deep in the pit of her stomach, he’s burrowed so far inside her, and every ripple along her walls seems to constrict around him, tethering him to her, frantic to keep him.

Unexpectedly, Hyungwon cums.

He expects to be embarrassed, to be ashamed at his performance and his lack of willpower, but since he’s met this untamed creature, he’s had none. He should have known, and yet the strength of his release takes him totally by surprise. It’s like he’s emptying everything he has into her, and he really, really, really needs her to take it all and beg for more, more, more.

“Yes,” she whines and works her ass against his hips as if she can read his thoughts. “Yes, so deep. Feels so good inside me.”

It’s like her words lengthen his climax. It feels like he’s being drained not just of his seed but his life force, and it feels wonderful. Hyungwon collapses onto her back and sandwiches her against the table; only then does he remember to breathe.

“I’m s—” he tries to splutter out between pathetic gulps of air, but her keening drowns it out.

“I need more, Hyungwon.”

He wanted her to beg for more, but what does he have left to give now? It was the wickedest orgasm of his life. His legs are jelly, his mind is mush, and inside her ravenous cunt, his dick is throbbing. Fire marches through his veins, setting his extremities to tingling. He’s hyper-aware of the way her core is massaging his length, milking him for all he’s worth.

“You have to give me more,” she whimpers, and it sounds borderline frantic, like she’s choking back tears.

Hyungwon pulls out nearly all the way before he glides back in through his own sticky release.

She wails gratefully.

He’s already cum. Why is he still hard? Why does he still want her so badly?

Again, he fucks into her, much more leisurely this time, promising himself he’s going to savor her like she should be savored, but suddenly, her hand reaches back and stills his hips. Her nails bite into his tender flesh and he growls.

“On the table,” she orders, and despite how his reasoned mind balks at the idea of his body touching all the filth, her orders are not to be disobeyed.

Hyungwon sits on the table edge, but she shakes her head lightly.

“Lay down.”

He does so without hesitation, and she purrs before she slides out of her sweatpants as he does out of his own. There’s not even time for either of them to slip out of their shirts before the need for each other takes an even firmer hold. Nimble as a wild animal, she pounces on the table and stands directly over him. The table creaks but mercifully gives no other sign of protest.

His vixen is small, but she towers above him. From here, he gets a front row seat to watch his massive release leak down her toned thighs. As embarrassed as he is at his brief showing, a flash of pride burns brightly in his chest. She is his and everyone should see it.

She crouches then, fingers pressed for stability on his tensed stomach while her other hand encircles the base of his cock. Her eyes are predatory now. She licks her lip and sinks down onto his shaft.

Hyungwon groans so loudly, he’s worried the guys outside might hear and come looking for him.

“That’s better,” she says breathily after her own moan trails off. When she’s ready, she braces her stance on either side of Hyungwon’s narrow hips for a better grip on the dusty wood and begins to bounce.

She’s too good at this. She’s just too good in general. Her compact, wiry frame gives her speed as well as agility, and she pistons with precision on his cock.

In the silence of the abandoned building, their bodies are loud—grunts and sighs and ragged breaths, squelching and slapping and creaking table legs. Hyungwon is generally comfortable in silence, but not today and not with her. He wants to hear their sin as much as he wants to feel it, and, fuck, does it feel good.

Before, with him behind her, it felt primal—it felt urgent. But she is using him now, stealing what she wants from him this time, and even though he’s just here as a tool, that makes him feel more powerful than ever. She only feels this good because of him, because of what he gives her, and that knowledge, more than anything, brings the tightness back to his stomach.

Beneath her, Hyungwon is coming apart. His eyes roll back in his head as he falls victim to every ounce of pleasure she wields against him. He’s always favored being under a woman—savoring the sight of her face slackening with release as her breasts sway with her natural rhythm—but she is different in every way. She isn’t tiring, she isn’t begging. She’s taking and taking and taking, and all he wants to do is offer her more.

Maybe she won’t beg, but Hyungwon’s certainly not above it.

“Don’t stop,” he croaks out. “Don’t ever stop. Please.”

She opens her eyes then, stares down at him and then his fingers, which have coiled around her waist at some point when he was lost in her. Her eyes glow like embers dying in a fire, but with a blink, that image is gone.

Even if Hyungwon tries to convince himself this is more than just using each other, there’s nothing romantic about this. It’s fucking, plain and simple. He feels raw and savage and rabid with lust for this woman as she bounces up and down on the full breadth of his cock.

But as he looks up into her face, those strong cheekbones contoured even stronger by her building euphoria, he thinks maybe this could become more than two strangers succumbing to base need. She’s beautiful and impulsive, sure, but she’s also elusive and captivating, and there’s something about her that makes him think she has an old soul, too. Maybe they can be more than perfect one-night sex. He wants to be. He wants her to continue to need him.

Or maybe that’s just his fantastical mind justifying why he’d plowed dick-deep into a woman who still hadn’t told him her name.

Her moans are climbing higher while at the same time getting shorter and more frantic. She grips his wrists to ride him harder, and just as her walls seize around him, Hyungwon breaks her hold to wrap his arms around her and pull her flat against his chest. Her hair fans across his cracking lips as he heaves, desperate for the air that seems to be steadily thinning as he plows up into her.

She’s keening now but so is he, and together, they mewl as Hyungwon buries himself as deep as he can get and unloads again. This time, he feels it in his toes, his thighs, his belly, even the back of his head. His vision swims with the strength of his climax, and his hug constricts so violently around her that she digs her claws into the meat of his shoulders.

Hyungwon lingers inside her, his hips still hovering in mid-air to make sure the last trickles of his orgasm remain within her painted walls. Eventually though, his legs give out, and he eases them both back down to the table.

She is limp on his chest, and if it weren’t for the high-speed thundering of her breath against his neck, he might have worried she’d passed out.

“Why didn’t you run?” she asks from the safety of the hollow of his throat. Her voice is breaking, and a shiver runs through him.

Slowly, she lifts her chest from his. Her hand cradles his head while an unexpected tear falls from her eye onto his chin.

“Why would I ever run from you?” he replies gently.

Hyungwon traces the back of his hand across her cheek to wipe away the track of her tear, but it only provokes two more from her.

“Did I do something wrong?” he asks, earnestly terrified that he has.

“No,” she sniffs. “I did. I will. I can’t help it.”

“It’s okay,” he soothes.

“Hyungwon?”

She sounds small and helpless, and it makes every part of him want to hold her even closer.

“What?” he says.

“Forgive me?”

“For what?”

“For this.”

She descends like a feather, her body lightly kissing his from waist to chest to lips at last. He wishes they were naked so he could feel every inch of her the way he’s meant to, but he will take as much of her as he can get.

Right away, Hyungwon discovers this kiss is different than any kiss he’s ever had. It’s hard to explain, but he feels it like it’s his first and last kiss all at once. There’s so much weight in it though their lips are merely dusting one another’s. It’s making him lightheaded and a little giddy. Through the gentle caress of swollen skin, he lets out an airy sigh, and, dimly, he thinks he sounds drunk.

Through his shuttered eyes, he senses a faint golden light, almost like the first tinge of sunrise, but he knows they are still deep in the throes of night. He opens his eyes and finds his lady soft and delicate above him. It’s almost as if the light is emanating between them, for he can see every detail of her face with perfect clarity—the curl of her lashes feathering her cheeks, the sharp upturn at the tip of her nose, the pointiness of her brows dulled by their gentle kissing. Hyungwon closes his eyes again to better enjoy the sensations of her walls squeezing his waning hard-on and their breaths melding into one another.

As his tongue sweeps deep into her mouth now, ice unexpectedly marches through his veins. He’s been on fire this whole time, but now he is frigid to his very bones. He gasps, and she returns the favor to push into his mouth. It’s not just her tongue he feels now, but a strange round shape, like a marble or a bead. Everything in his body is cold, but this is warm. So warm. It rolls around in his mouth, getting hotter by the second. She is playing with it, too, almost like two cats bandying around a ball of yarn.

Hyungwon knows this isn’t normal, but the cold is shutting down his senses, like a bear preparing for hibernation. He’s had the two best orgasms of his life, and he is tired. Now, his eyes aren’t closed just to appreciate the feel of the woman above him, but they’re closed because he wants to fall asleep inside her. He would be content to never wake up from her hold on him.

Somewhere in the dim cavern at the back of his mind, a little voice tries to call to him. It wants to rouse him; it wants him to open his eyes, but Hyungwon can do neither. It’s like seeing his dreaming self from outside his body, and he’s helpless but to watch himself drift deeper into acceptance.

The bead in his mouth feels like molten lead. It’s getting hard to remember simple things. Where is he? Why is he here—wherever this is? Who is he? He thinks he knows. He thinks it’s important. He knows he’s supposed to know these things, but they’re not as important as they once were.

“Wonnie, man, where are you?”

As soon as Changkyun’s deep voice booms up the stairwell, the world crystallizes. The heaviness on Hyungwon’s chest lifts, and he sucks in a violent breath as though he’s just made it up from the bottom of the ocean in the nick of time. The fire that has seared his skin for the last hour extinguishes, too, leaving only the memory of the burn throbbing all over him. Inside his veins, the ice thaws, yet he’s still frozen. He remembers his name and his friends. He remembers his bet. He remembers the abandoned office building, but he does not remember how he got to this room.

Hyungwon tries to move—to call out—but he can’t. He feels drained, lifeless.

“Come on already! You won. Don’t be a showoff,” shouts Kihyun next.

Everyone pauses for Hyungwon’s inevitable retort, but none comes.

“I thought you weren’t coming in,” Minhyuk chides in the silence, which earns him an immediate “Zip it” from their stern-lipped friend.

His friends’ voices feel much closer now, though Hyungwon’s pretty sure they’re still on the first floor. The stairwell acts like a PA system, transmitting their banter with perfect clarity.

“I swear to god, if that clever brat slipped out the back—” Kihyun warns.

“Why don’t we split up?” suggests Hyunwoo. “Everyone, take a floor.”

Minhyuk chuckles. “You don’t get enough credit for how shrewd you are, hyung.”

“We can cover more ground this way,” the eldest assures though, after a pause, he continues, “and it will be easier for Hyungwon to answer us if it’s quieter.”

“I don’t like the idea of splitting up,” hedges Kihyun. “It might be better to look in pairs.”

“Chicken,” Minhyuk baits.

“Do you want me to call in Jooheon and Hoseok?” asks Changkyun.

“What would be the point?” says Minhyuk. “Even if we could get those two babies inside, we wouldn’t be able to hear each other over their screaming, let alone Wonnie.”

Hyungwon should be heartened that his friends are searching for him, but he can’t feel anything except the vague notion that he should be trying to call for help. Even his eyes are unfocused. The room is cloudy just like the last leg of his life.

He remembers feelings: ecstasy, relief, a quick ice bath of sadness, followed by listlessness. And that is where he’s stayed, mired in grayness.

“Wonnie!” shouts Minhyuk this time. His voice is a thousand times louder and more demanding than Changkyun’s. It shakes something awake in Hyungwon.

“Here,” he answers, though it’s a pitiful sound, like a mewling kitten in the rain. Nobody hears him.

His friends take turns calling until, finally, Hyunwoo gets close enough to catch his little cries.

“Up here!” the eldest bellows as he turns the corner and finds Hyungwon stretched out on the conference room table.

Hyungwon doesn’t remember much after that save for a weird shiver of embarrassment that follows Minhyuk’s incredulous shout: “Dude, why are you naked?”

His friends help him dress and bring him downstairs. They douse him with questions, none of which he can answer because he’s still not sure what happened. All he really remembers is waking up in the hospital just the right side of Death’s door with snippets of a surreal dream that are both too wonderful to remember and far too terrifying.

He doesn’t know what happened on the fourth floor of that decrepit office, and he’s not sure he’s ready to know.

And yet…

The day he’s released from the hospital, Hyungwon finds himself sitting on the curb outside that building. And the day after that. And the day after that. And most days after that for the next couple of months.

He stares up into one window in particular every time. He expects to see a ghost because that’s what Jooheon assures him nearly killed him, but he never does. If it were a ghost, it would come back, right?

He wants it to come back if just so he knows he’s not crazy. Or maybe that’s just the safe answer he gives to all his friends. The truth is much more shameful than that.

As close as he was to death that day, Hyungwon had touched some kind of happiness he hasn’t been able to feel since then. It’s probably grotesque, but at least it’s honest.

Sometimes he thinks about going back inside, but he’s not stupid—well, that stupid. He feels like his answers are in there along with his memories, but his friends would never forgive him if he went back in, so he doesn’t. He just sits and stares at the window, hoping something more then the memory of fire and riptides will unlock. It feels important.

So for now, he sits, legs folded up like a paperclip at the end of a dead-end road, staring up and zoning out, the wisp of a voice on the edge of his brain.

Forgive me?

Something rustles in the overgrowth in front of the building. Hyungwon shoots to his feet, his eyes trained into the twilight. It’s far too small to be either a human or ghost. A flash of rust and white. An eye of golden flame. A cat or a fox maybe. Either way, it signals it’s time for him to leave his post. It’s getting dark and there’s always tomorrow.

Maybe that will be the day he remembers the one elusive, beautiful, important thing he never wants to forget.

[pinkiepiebones]

I don't know who you ship renfield with, if anyone, so this can be platonic, but the kiss on a scar option for the kiss meme sounds so cute

Oh boy time to bust out my OC Johnathan Murray from my never-will-be-made-because-the-first-movie-flopped Renfield 2 spec script!

Johnathan had been dating Robert for a month now. It was early but he was pretty sure he loved Robert. Robert was tall, sweet, and shy. He had the most beautiful eyes and cheekbones that could put the classic sculptors to shame. His laugh was one of the most wonderful sounds Johnathan ever heard. He texted with proper spelling and punctuation and at least five emojis no matter the conversation. He cooed over flowers and yards with well-loved gardens. He loved colourful striped socks. His apartment was vibrant and bright. He had a friend named Rebecca who was definitely some sort of ex-cop or ex-military lady, or just a friend who was very, very protective of him. They never really clarified how they met- "I helped him get out of a bad relationship" was as far as she would explain, and Robert would just nod. It was fine. Johnathan knew opening up took time. But sometimes it was a little- Robert was a beautiful mystery, and there were times Johnathan just wanted to solve him all at once, patience be damned.

Johnathan knew Robert was in a group therapy thing. He knew Robert was also seeing a psychiatrist. He intuited that it all had something to do with his last relationship. It made him ache to imagine anyone hurting Robert. It had taken several dates before Robert would even let Johnathan hold his hand. "I'm not embarrassed or having a crisis or anything," Robert said, "I'm just- it's not quite 'touch adverse,' but something akin to it? I'm learning to accept, um, positive touch. God, I sound like a child."

"Don't do that, man."

"Do what?"

"Talk down about yourself. You're getting out from under a long shadow, so it makes sense that you're relearning some things."

Robert chuckled and squeezed Johnathan's hand. "I know, I know. It's been nearly two years, though. Since I escaped- um, that bad relationship. I can't believe I still flinch at things like, like touch."

"I'll help however I can."

So now they were sitting in Robert's little apartment, on his avocado-coloured sofa. They had been watching some movie on TV when the subject of touch came up again. Johnathan had stretched and tried to put his arm around Robert's shoulders but his fingers had brushed Robert's neck.

Robert flinched.

Johnathan pulled his arm back and looked at Robert with concern. "Too much?"

Robert shook his head. "No, no, sorry, I-" He sighed. "I have a scar there, you just, um, jolted me, that's all."

"Can I see?"

Robert turned his head to look at Johnathan. I trust him. I really do. I like him a lot. He is not- NO ONE is Dracula. He's so patient and understanding. It's okay. He is okay. I am, too.

Robert tilted his head, exposing his neck. There, right on jugular, was a faint, jagged scar. "It's from a long time ago, and I hate it," he said nervously. "It's a reminder of, well. Not great times."

Johnathan hmmed in thought. Then, he brought his hand to his lips and kissed hi fingertips. He gently placed his fingertips against the scar and looked in Robert's eyes. "Too much?"

Robert was wide-eyed. Johnathan worried he messed up and was going to move his hand when Robert placed his hand over Johnathan's, pinning it against his neck.

"I've hated that scar for so long, and just like that... I don't hate it as much, now."

"I told you I could help" Johnathan chuckled.

Robert leaned in and kissed his boyfriend.

"I don't deserve you, John."

[picklebunbun]

—— ꨄ Caleb x Azreal

**

I was only temporary

my head is empty ♥︎

⇄ ◁◁ 𝚰𝚰 ▷▷ ↻

⁰⁰'²⁵ ━━●━━───── ⁰²'⁰⁸

**

• Caleb x Azreal

M 4 M

• genre: fluff and crack

• fandom: FNF but it really doesn’t matter

• romantic

•cw: biting, pretty suggestive

summary: Azreal bites in his sleep and he accidentally bites Caleb

[angel’s note 👼🪽: I wanted to write this story before I move onto the other requests. Caleb and Azreal are both married and both gay SO NO FEM ALIGNED PEOPLE SHOULD SIMP FOR EITHER OF THEM, also Caleb is a vampire. Azreal is my OC and Caleb is my friend’s OC @typicalaxellies]

୧ ‧₊˚ 🍓 ⋅ ☆

♡︎ italics=thinking | bold=yelling

It was late at night, crickets were chirping while the couple was fast asleep on their lavish bed. Caleb softly snored with Azreal clinging onto him, it was a long day for Caleb, he worked as a professional {super} model and his boss was “some weird creep who got picked off the streets” or at least that’s what Azreal said. Anyways, it was the winter time which meant that Azreal and Caleb have been more cuddly than usual.

Despite Caleb being the vampire, Azreal bit a lot in his sleep. He really wasn’t sure how it started, maybe it was because when he was a teenager, he had sharp teeth but then filed it down so he couldn’t be reminded of his edgy teen rebel phase. Which always led the shorter man to nibble his husband’s neck so suddenly.

Unfortunately, Caleb only knew this when hey both spent their first night together which lead to him almost kicking Azreal out of the bed. After that, Caleb was cautious whenever he crawled into bed with his husband but eventually he didn’t care, that didn’t mean that it didn’t surprise him though.

Moving on, just as I said, it was late at night which meant it was time for Azreal’s subconscious to, for some reason, bite something. Azreal slightly nibbled on Caleb’s neck which made Caleb groan quietly, but it wasn’t enough to actually pull him away from his REM sleep. Then, Azreal fully bit him, it didn’t hurt that much since his teeth were dull and flat. Caleb’s eyes shot open, he flinched and inched his neck away from Azreal’s mouth but not before he let out this girly MANLY scream.

Azreal woke up from the MANLY scream, he lifted himself up with his hands. He saw Caleb with his hand on his neck from the bite

“what happened..?”

“you f^cking bit me like a dog”

“get over it, you bite me all the time”

Their voices were still hoarse just from waking up. Azreal’s expression seemed unfazed, just as sarcastic as ever, while Caleb looks a little frazzled from the fact that his husband bit him like an animal!

“if you bite me one more time you’re going to look like swiss cheese by the end of the night”

“yeah, ok”

Azreal rolled his eyes, not taking Caleb seriously. Caleb was telling the truth though, if he felt even a pinch on his skin then he’s going to use Azreal like a personal blood-bag, not like he isn’t but y’know. Caleb pulled the sheets and went back to sleep while holding Azreal. For the moment everything was peaceful, he was just ready to snooze off until he felt tiny gnawing on his neck.

“..alright that does it”

“mm.. what? ACK!”

Caleb pulled Azreal in so he could face his collarbone and his fangs sunk into the pale (now reddish) skin. This crimson red dropped all the way to the middle of Azreal’s chest staining it like wine, Caleb continued to do this but in other places of his body (not getting in to full detail). Just, long story short, Caleb kept his promise and it was now the next day. Instead of crickets it was now birds, instead of the dark sky deepening every shadow it was now a sunset giving everything a orange-purplish hue.

It was time for Azreal to get up, his schedule has been a bit hectic, despite his husband making way more than enough money for the both of them, Azreal still wanted to work at a little video game store. It honestly wasn’t that bad, sure, a lot of weird incels come in but it doesn’t mean he’d have to deal with them, it’s not like he was a girl at the register. Azrael slipped out of bed and out of Caleb's grip, he walked into the bathroom and..

“JESUS F^CK CALEB, I LOOK LIKE I’VE BEEN SHOT 100 TIMES”

worth it~

[thelavendersquid]

About Me

Hello hello 👋 I’m Emily - she/they, 21. I’ve been a silent lurker/observer in the tickle community for a good few years now, and now I’ve finally started to embrace my love of/special interest in tickling so here I am with my very own blog. :) I would love to make some friends with the same interest! Here's the thing about communicating with me though - we need to talk about something. I get easily overwhelmed by private messages especially if it's just something like a hello. So we can skip the small talk, just jump right in to whatever you want to talk to me about. It’s more likely that I'll respond if you do. :) And I love questions! Send me asks if you’d like, or jump into my DM’s with a question! Doesn’t matter how random, random is my favorite. My response times can be anywhere from minutes to weeks depending on how busy my life and overwhelmed my brain is - and with that said, I don't attach any meaning to how fast or slow someone messages me back, so please don't feel pressured to respond quickly or to apologize if you don't!

I also have interests besides tickling! (Although there is certainly overlap with these things and that). Here are some fandoms I'm involved in/media I like. I’ll bold the ones I’m currently obsessed with and try to keep it updated.

Critical Role - The Mighty Nein

What We Do In The Shadows

Good Omens

Lucifer

Sander's Sides

The Good Place

Sherlock

Six of Crows

Simon Snow Trilogy

Harry Potter - Marauder's Era

Loki (the Marvel show)

Hazbin Hotel

Most Disney movies

Avatar: The Last Airbender

But I'm not picky when it comes to tickling - fun fact, 99% of the time when I start watching a new series, it’s because I’ve spent the prior few weeks/months reading tickle fics with those characters and going from knowing nothing about them other than that they’re ticklish, to knowing enough to be intrigued to see more 😆 So you can pretty much come into my asks/inbox to talk about tickle ideas or head cannons for literally any fandom or characters and I'll be happy to hear and talk about it.

Also! I’m a writer! I’m currently working on a book - an urban fantasy adventure exploring the good the bad and the ugly of laughter, accepting and befriending all the parts of yourself, and discovering where you fit into the world.

My OC’s include a walking disaster laughter magician, a serious ghost terrified of laughter, an orphaned werewolf, an overworked guardian angel, a pick-pocket faerie, a a soul-artist ghost hunter, a sentient shadow, a literal tickle monster, and a demon in charge of Hell’s rehabilitation program. I would LOVE to tell you more about any of them! I share posts that remind me of them (and occasionally snippets of my writing) with the tag #my OCs

Also! I love and collect goofy jokes and bad puns - so if you'd like to share one with me PLEASE DO. I keep a list.

Back to tickling, I’m also fascinated by the science side of tickling - the physiological and psychological reaction and effects and all that great stuff. The entire phenomenon fascinates me. If you’re interested in that aspect of tickling too let’s be nerds together.

Oh and you can send me pictures of your animals anytime and we will be friends immediately if you do.

Ok that's it! Thanks for being here! 😄

[tvstarkuma-a]

I posted 1,258 times in 2022

That's 1,258 more posts than 2021!

511 posts created (41%)

747 posts reblogged (59%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@bishonenprince

@tacitusauxilium

@oraclememehacker

@eris-the-phantom-thief

@aeniqmata

I tagged 1,128 of my posts in 2022

Only 10% of my posts had no tags

#like a queue come true - 307 posts

#out-of-bear-suit - 167 posts

#v: not alone anymore - 133 posts

#teddie answers - 120 posts

#bearutiful self - 57 posts

#promo~ - 55 posts

#teddie musings - 54 posts

#anonymous - 53 posts

#v: a home to protect - 36 posts

#headcanons - 34 posts

Longest Tag: 133 characters

#((i'm imagining teddie mopping himself into a corner and being unable to leave since he doesn't want to step on the wet floor he made

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

@tacitusauxilium​

Last Golden Week was one Teddie wasn’t soon to forget. Sure, there was another supernatural case and a fight to save the world, but that wasn’t important right now. What mattered is that Teddie got lots of new friends! The Shadow Operatives were filled with so many elegant yet kind people. There’s sexy Mit-chan, non-human Persona-users like him Ai-chan and Labby-chan, beautiful Yuka-chan, gentle Fuu-chan, the half-naked Akky, and the rest of the team. By the time everyone left, the poor bear already felt a bit of loneliness creep in. Sensei going back to the city didn’t help either. Oh well, these feelings are all a part of life, too. 

“Maybe I should go to Okina today...?” He mumbled to himself, “No! Only sad, lonely people go to the movies alone!” His head shook at its own suggestion. 

On days that Teddie didn’t have any shifts at Junes and his friends were at school, he tended to wander around town a bit until something caught his eye. If he’s lucky, one of the nice housewives stop him for food and gossip. What a kind group of ladies! 

“Hmm?” Something different caught Teddie’s attention. It was a white dress that wasn’t anything like the girls in the team wore. Wait! Could it be?! 

“FUU-CHAN!” It was difficult to ignore the screams of a running bear. 

24 notes - Posted July 4, 2022

#4

@bishonenprince​

“Hey! I remember you from Junes!” A small blue bear with a red and white outfit of some kind has run up to Sora. There was something familiar about this bear’s energy and mannerisms. In fact, that high-pitched voice was a bit similar to a certain blonde retail worker. 

“How are you enjoying the town of Inaba so far? You said you were new, right?” He walked a half circle around Sora before finally staying stationary for now. Yup, Teddie has confirmed that this brunette still had that odd yet cool sense of fashion. 

24 notes - Posted July 8, 2022

#3

You all know the drill by now, so let’s cut to the chase! Please like this post to give me permission to do the following: 

Send unprompted asks to your muse(s)

Write random starters (both prompted and unprompted and of varying lengths)

Tag your muse(s) for dash games and stuff that reminds me of them

Jump into your IM’s for plotting/shipping/HC’s 

Mention your muse(s) in other threads 

And more! 

24 notes - Posted November 11, 2022

#2

☆ Independent RP blog for Teddie from Persona 4 

☆ Low to Medium Activity 

☆ Crossover & OC friendly 

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38 notes - Posted August 17, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

I noticed that there's a terrible lack of bears on your dash so let's fix that, shall we?

Please reblog/like if you're interested in interacting with Teddie from Persona 4. Crossovers and OC's are bear-y welcome. I have a full-time job so there will be spots of low-activity, but I still love this character with all my heart. I've been here since 2012 and I'm glad to be back for more!

40 notes - Posted July 3, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[stormbreaker101]

!! ♡

YEET okay this is my time to ramble about my lad Shadow.

He was originally made by an old friend who didn't know about Wizard101, hence the name overlap. My old friend and I have since parted ways, but his characters have made such an impact on mine that I can't write them out without it hurting so many of my characters.

Shadow 'The Darkening' Rouge looks very much like a dragon version of Meta Knight (we used to joke that he would make this meme), large and in charge and cloaked in darkness and a figure to fear, like his name suggests. However personality-wise he's a ray of sunshine. He is fiercely loyal to everyone he considers a friend (which extends from family to anyone who isn't an outright villain) and when he's not doing magic hero stuff (as any OC first made by a teen who grew up on action and fantasy media would do), he lives a happy life with the family and friends he's made over the years.

He is Chance's husband (I've talked about Chance a bit in other posts, I'll talk about her some more) and Flare's father.

I don't have any art of him because dragons are hard to draw T_T. Shoutout to anyone who's ever drawn a dragon bc that shit's difficult.

Of course, being a magical monster (in the Undertale sense), he has some magical powers, which include:

summoning a magical sword and shield. When he was younger he designed the sword and shield to look like the Master Sword and Hylian Shield from TLoZ, but as he matured, the designs changed to be more unique.

creating defensive auras around himself and the people around him. The auras look like golden, glimmering spheres.

summoning Ghost, a sentient Gaster Blaster who is sorta his familiar/his closest friend/an extension of him/his pet/his oldest son. I drew Ghost once for Wiztober!

eating metal. Yea he can just... eat metal. Spears are his comfort food.

[yoonpobs]

bad boy good thing | drabble i. | m

WARNINGS. jealous jk, jk's gf is hot and he's not the only one who thinks that, jimin and tae as instigators, i swear jimin and jk love each other, fucking in public spaces aka a car in a parking lot, jk luvs his gf, appearance of perpetrator jin!

NOTE. i missed this couple 🥺oc is living her hot girl summer life and jk does nawt know how to deal with it Lol. hope u enjoy loves!!!!

WORDS. 3k+

“I’m okay,” Jungkook murmurs, eyes fluttering shut as he repeats his own personal mantra. “I’m good. I’m fine—I’m chill. Chillest person ever. I’m good—”

“He’s not okay,” Taehyung snickers.

Jungkook blocks the negativity out, purposefully and intentionally. Nothing could ruin his day—not on his watch, especially as the sun shines over bodies across the beach while the waves break into beautiful fragments that he’s yearning to dip his feet into.

Personal affirmations came first.

“I’m good, I’m fine, I’m okay,” he chants like a crazy person, definitely earning some form of side-eye from the people next to him but he can’t be bothered. Another person thinking that he was insane wasn’t the worst thing that could happen to him—not when—

“You should open your eyes,” Jimin says, “How are you going to fight them if you don’t know thy enemy?”

Immediately, Jungkook’s peace is disturbed by the mouth of Park Jimin, who painfully reminds him of why he’s got into the entire personal mantra and affirmation thing. He used to think it was redundant, unnecessary. How could the universe return your wishes just as you’ve uttered them into the atmosphere? It didn’t seem logical to him.

But right now, that didn’t matter—not when he had bigger things to be worried about.

“Don’t disturb my peace,” Jungkook snaps.

“They did it first,” Jimin retorts, cocking his head towards the flock of people at a certain part of the beach, specifically towards where the water meets the shore.

Jungkook’s eye twitches. His peace is disrupted, his happiness is compromised and it’s all Park Jimin’s fault. He spent a good amount of time getting into his zone, reaffirming himself that he was in fact, fine, good—he was okay! But now, he feels all his resolve dissolve when he realises he can’t even see the main thing that was responsible for his dilemmas.

“You’d think a celebrity was on this beach,” Taehyung snorts.

“Not helping,” Jungkook says dryly.

“So isn’t your crazy person chanting,” Jimin points out, “but yet, here we are—listening to you reciting your own version of a biblical verse.”

“I’m fine,” Jungkook grits for the umpteenth time, and no less is his assertions any more convincing than it was a moment ago. The flicker of his irises towards to crowd is enough to prove that fact. “I’m just enjoying my day at the beach with my friends and my girlfriend.”

“See, there are two false statements in that,” Taehyung tilts his head downwards, offering a smug smirk that Jungkook wishes he could shove into the sand beneath him. “You’re definitely not enjoying this because I can see the veins protruding out of your neck at how hard you’re clenching your jaw, and”—the older boy makes the effort to taunt Jungkook further by letting out a low whistle the moment the crowd seems to grow slightly bigger—“you’re partially right about the friend part. Your girlfriend though … where is she?”

I’m good. I’m okay. I’m cool—

“Oblivious, as usual,” Jimin sighs, plopping back onto the beach towel beneath him while shooting Jungkook a pointed stare. “It’d be sad if you only called her your girlfriend for six months when you’ve been in love with her for seven years.”

“Okay that’s it. I’m going there,” Jungkook declares, huffing as he pushes himself off the ground while Jimin makes an effort to grab at his ankle, halting the younger boy from causing any damage and potentially getting them banned from ever returning.

“Not with that temper you aren’t,” Jimin snaps, “Sit your ass down. God. Can’t you take a joke?”

“A joke?” Jungkook splutters, abhorred. “You literally just said she’s going to break up with me!”

“I said that it’d be sad if—”

“Same fucking difference,” he hisses, rubbing a hand across his face before he kicks Jimin’s petty grip off his ankle while levelling him with a menacing glare. Jungkook’s eyes slowly drift to the side where you finally enter his vision, still smiling like the soft and sweet person you were as you help Namjoon with whatever crab hunting mission he had.

See, Jungkook’s mature enough to know that you and Namjoon were good friends, great ones, even. The two of you were smart and clicked well, and if anything, Jungkook was more envious of the fact that the two of you shared such a wholesome and meaningful friendship than anything else.

The fact that Namjoon used to have feelings for you didn’t bother Jungkook anymore, not when he knew where your heart truly laid. He also trusted Namjoon with his entire life and his firstborns (not that he’d ever tell you that, and God—did he hope that day would eventually come when it came to you). But still, Jungkook was mature—he did some growing up, and he was proud of that.

But Jungkook’s human, a flawed, ever-learning and constantly improving human. A human who’s crazy in love with his pretty girlfriend that he’s longed for years—and a human who isn’t blind. A human who can’t ignore the fact that, apparently, he wasn’t the only person that was trying to keep himself in check at how stunning you were. Every day—and especially today, with how your dainty yellow bikini drapes over the curves of your body.

Jungkook nearly cries. Yellow was his favourite colour. You wore it for him.

Not for—

“Maybe you should head over,” Taehyung murmurs, snapping Jungkook out of his love-filled mind as his eyes clear, immediately catching what his friend was referring to.

Some dude. Talking to you. Smiling at you like you carried all the answers to all the world problems as you giggle a tune comparable to birds chirping. Maybe Jungkook was exaggerating but it always sounded like you were singing his favourite song even if you were just explaining economical concepts to him like a soothing e-book.

“God, why couldn’t she have been ugly,” Jungkook groans.

“You wouldn’t have dated her otherwise,” Jimin retorts.

Jungkook gawks, affronted as he gives his two friends a scandalised expression as he places his hands over his chest to indicate the offence he took to that statement.

“I’m not superficial,” he huffs, “I fell in love with her because of her—”

“Personality, yada yada,” Jimin mocks him in a lower tune that has Jungkook glaring at him. “Yeah, okay. But don’t tell me that her being pretty doesn’t help you bust a nut every once in a while.”

Jungkook flushes.

“Well, yeah, but I’m her boyfriend—”

“Thank you for reminding me that you are in fact, still a boy,” Jimin rolls his eyes, “Men. Mansplaining everything, really.”

Jungkook’s jaw slackens as his eyes briefly land on Taehyung’s figure who doesn’t look too bothered with how the conversation turned out as he shrugs in response.

“How about you do the typical manly thing of being a jealous prick and go over there and stomp over all her fan club members,” Jimin says sarcastically, resting his arm over his eyes to shield them from the sun.

There’s a brief rustle from where the sand meets the towel, and a relatively long period of silence while the only thing that permeates the air is the sound of waves with laughter coming from a family a distance away.

“He did exactly that, didn’t he.”

“You need to stop giving him ideas,” Taehyung sighs, plopping a grape into his mouth before occupying the space next to his friend. “Should we find another beach to frequent?”

“Really?” you laugh, “That’s so cool! I’m actually planning on landing an apprenticeship there over the summer.”

“Oh?” The man is leaning way too close to you for comfort, but you’re unfazed. Jungkook doesn’t even want to know where the hell Namjoon had gone, leaving you with this broad-shouldered, terrifyingly handsome man. “I could definitely put a good word in for you if you’d like.”

You beam, appreciative rather than brazen. But Jungkook thinks the man doesn’t know that.

“I don’t think I can accept that, Seokjin.”

And of course, you knew his name.

“Why not?” Seokjin smirks, and Jungkook knows that it’s definitely done him justice in other situations. “For a beautiful—”

“____,” he interjects, smoothly (or not quite) sliding next to you as his arms wrap around your waist before his glare rests on the man before him, who looks both shocked and unbothered at his appearance. “Who’s this?”

You jump slightly at Jungkook’s arrival but relax when you realise that it was just him and not some other beach weirdo.

“Jungkook, this is Seokjin! He actually attended our university—”

“Really,” he says dryly, “That’s nice.”

“Is this your …?” Seokjin looks Jungkook up and down before settling with a rather unimpressed look. “Do seniors usually bring their shadows out for playdates?”

Your eyes widen at his patronising tone, and before can even think to correct him with a tilted frown, Jungkook’s fingers dig into your waist, a precursor to his jaw that clenches while he engages in his own version of a staredown with the man before you.

“Boyfriend.”

Seokjin raises a brow.

“Me,” Jungkook blinks, unnerved and quite frankly, tired. He’s crossed this bridge enough times, and it’s always the same. Some older dude who thought that you were doing charity work by having Jungkook tag along with like some puny little brother. “I’m her boyfriend.”

“Jungkook—” you start, softly reaching to grip his arm.

“Interesting,” Seokjin says offhandedly and Jungkook knows it’s anything but. “Well, my offer still stands.”

He’s directing it to you as you peer up at him with your notoriously innocent eyes. Jungkook hates that this douche is still unaffected by his blatant declaration of the fact that you were—taken.

“I—that’s fine, Seokjin,” you say softly, lips curling into a thankful smile before he nods.

The look he sends Jungkook is nothing short of unimpressed, and Jungkook’s thinking of clamming the dude into the sand and quite literally, bury the hatchet with him. Sure, he was handsome and broad, and undoubtedly ripped—but Jungkook trained to benchpress twice his weight so he could beat up assholes who tried to hit on his girlfriend.

Right before he leaves, Jungkook calls for his name—intentionally calling him Seokmin—noting the way his face drops into a scowl.

“You’re not her type.”

He scoffs.

“And you are?” he throws back, brows raised as a challenge.

“That’s why I get to hold her and you’re walking away.”

With that, Seokjin doesn’t bother responding to Jungkook, especially in the way that you gawk at your boyfriend’s blatant warning to the older man.

He titters off, and it’s effectively just you and Jungkook standing by the shore while you briefly see the way Namjoon stutters before deciding to return to where Jimin and Taehyung lays.

Jungkook’s still seething in his rage, clenching and unclenching his fists even though he got the last word. It wasn’t that he thought you’d elope with Seokjin and leave him—he trusted you wholeheartedly and vice versa. He knew you loved him and so did he.

It had more to do with the fact that Seokjin saw you, and eventually, him—and thought that Jungkook wasn’t fit to be your boyfriend. That he saw a gorgeous girl on the beach and expected her to be single, and if not—to be with a boyfriend that had his shit together and not … not Jungkook.

“Jungkook?” you say quietly, tugging at his elbow while you peer up at him with wide and apologetic eyes. “I’m sorry.”

It’s no good, the fact that you’re apologising. As if you were responsible for his insecurities when you’ve done nothing but shower him with love and support ever since the two of you started officially dating.

“Don’t apologise,” he says stiffly, though his heart isn’t angry—he can’t help the way his words get out. “It’s not your fault.”

“But—”

“If you apologise then you’re gonna piss me off, baby,” he says lightly, peering you down with a small smirk as your eyes widen.

“I—okay,” you say weakly, and before he knows it, you’re intertwining your fingers with his, eyes suddenly twinkling in a way he’s grown all too familiar with.

“You have the keys?” he murmurs softly.

You nod, blind and in love as you sigh.

“Take care of me?” you ask sweetly, and Jungkook forgets all about Seokjin when he has you right in front of him.

“O-Oh, fuck—Jungkook—ngh—”

Maybe Jungkook really was a crazy person, but he’d argue that you were equally as crazy to oblige to indulge in his lewd fantasies. He was crazy, for you and your cunt that was like nirvana, and it’s proven further when he fucks into you at a brutal pace, uncaring whether or not the car shakes with the exertion of the activities that were taking place in it.

It could be the fact that he had a decade worth of fantasies to play out, but he knows that he plays a huge part in opening your sexual nature and he couldn’t be happier about it, especially when you unabashedly throw your head onto your chest, whimpering with the dirty squelches of his thrusts that echo in the vehicle.

“You’re mine, aren’t you?” he growls, hand wrapping around the back of your neck to force your glassy eyes to look at him.

The look on your face is enough to get Jungkook even more riled up, your flushed cheeks and swollen lips while you nod your head manically, crazy—and his.

“Y-Yours,” you whimper, and just about then, Jungkook brings your hips down with his free hand and meets you with a sharp thrust that has your mouth dropping open and your face scrunched up in pleasure. “F-Fuck, J-Jungkook.”

“No one gets to fuck you like this,” he hisses, pressing a hot kiss to your neck as you whine, hips involuntarily swivelling to meet his fast pace. The car is shaking and it’s all too risky, Jungkook knows that—but his rationale is clouded with the antagonising face of Seokjin. “No one gets to see you like this. Only I do.”

“Y-Yes!” you sob, clutching onto him as he feels your pussy tighten viciously around him, the walls of your inner linings spasming as Jungkook hisses at the feeling. “Only you K-Kook. Only ever want you.”

Jungkook believes you, especially when you desperately hold onto him as he feels himself slowly reach the edge. He knows you are too, especially when your whines get higher in pitch, and your tugs against his shoulders get tighter. He knows because he’s learnt about your body as your boyfriend—and he’s the only person that will ever get to have you like this.

The thought, paired along with the risk of your situation only fuels his determination to get you off, his strong arms immediately wrapping around you to root you into place as he shoves his cock deeper into you.

“Come on, pretty girl,” he croons as you mewl in pleasure, breathless whines turning more desperate as your eyes flutter shut. “You wanna show me how much you want me?”

You nod manically, your pussy fluttering around his length as he grunts in exertion.

“G-Gonna—pleasedon’tstop—fuck, I-I’m cumming—!” you cry, tugging your face into the crook of his neck as Jungkook bites his lips in focus, all ready to accept your hot pleasure and his own.

“Come for me,” he encourages, lips hovering over your earlobe as you obey his orders, head thrown back as he watches your mouth drop wider and your eyes roll to the back of your head, pussy tightening around his length.

Jungkook thinks you’re beautiful. On days where you don’t feel like you do, but he may be biased to say that he thinks you look absolutely stunning for him like this. When he knows that he’s the one responsible for your reddened cheeks, the way you so desperately cling onto him whenever you’d orgasm (the only person that would ever know this fact about you), and the way that you’re left breathless, satiated and with that hazed expression after his resolute efforts.

Jungkook cums shortly after, with those exact thoughts plaguing his mind. He was so whipped. He really only had to think of you and he would get hard, and having you right above him, soft and warm with your arms draped loosely over his form made his heart all mushy and soft despite the way his cock stands erect.

You mewl in oversensitivity although you don’t complain. You never do, whenever Jungkook cums after you. Even now, when Jungkook comes down from his high with pants of his own, his own mind-clearing while his cock softens in you—you remain patient. Patient like the ever-loving, wonderful girlfriend that you were—one that Jungkook wasn’t sure he deserved.

“Wow,” you giggle, forehead resting against his as you return from your own post-orgasmic bliss. “I can’t believe I let you fuck me in a parking lot.”

Jungkook flushes, reality sinking in when he realised that the two of you weren’t hidden from plain sight. While the idea of being caught was definitely arousing, Jungkook knew he wasn’t too keen on having anyone see you delirious, even if it was all for him. He was lucky enough that your bikini top remained on the entire time, but both your sweaty bodies were enough of a dead giveaway.

“I just,” Jungkook tries to explain, words slurring in embarrassment as you raise a brow at him. “You look really pretty today.”

You stare at his forlorn expression as if admitting that pained him. Jungkook feels slightly embarrassed at how he reacted, and if you notice this, you don’t point it out—yet.

“Wore this for you,” you murmur, pressing a soft kiss to the mole under his lip. Jungkook’s heart soars at your admission even if he knew that. “You know it’s only for you, right?”

Your question is purposeful and Jungkook shamefully looks to his lap, and even then—you’re still connected. He slowly pulls out, wincing when his cum threatens to pool out of your pussy, but before he can pretend to clean you up, you’re putting your bikini bottoms back in place and clamping your hands over his cheeks so that he’d look at you.

“Jungkook,” you say sternly.

He sighs.

“Yes,” he groans, feeling a lot like a child who’s being berated. “I just—God. He was such a prick.”

“I know,” you say gently, fingers combing through his hair while he melts into your touch. “There are a lot of pricks out there, but you know that I only love you, right?”

Your confession is the same as the one you’ve made six months ago, and just last night before the two of you fell asleep—but it’s a confession that Jungkook never grows tired of.

“I know,” he mumbles as you giggle at him. “It’s just that … he really thought he had a chance with you, and when he saw me it was like—”

You frown, finger pressed against his lips to stop his rambling as he peers up at you with doe-eyes.

“None of that,” you chide lightly, “I don’t care what people think. The only person I care about is you, and no one will change that, okay?”

Jungkook feels himself relax into your touch, especially when you lean forward to capture his lips in a soft kiss that isn’t set to lead anywhere. He remembers. He remembers the times where you were unsure and all too worried of the words of others—and here you were, with him and with your gentle and loving soul, the embodiment of comfort as you tell him the words he’s always known but needs to be reminded of.

“I love you,” he says quietly as you grin widely at him, “Sorry for—you know.”

You roll your eyes, lifting your leg to get off his lap as you wince at the cum that threatens to escape your lips.

“I mean, it was kind of hot,” you shrug with a small smirk.

“God, I’ve created a monster,” Jungkook snorts, looking over at you when you shoot him a devious grin.

“You love it,” you throw back cheekily, leaning into his shoulder as he wraps an arm around you with a sigh.

He does. And he knows that he’s the only one that you’ll love back.

[vinnival]

can I get platonic main 3 + jeb and tricky w a buddy who's literally like. A living improbability drive. Like theyve got an android or holographic body w a sentient drive at its "core" or w/e if that makes sense. Just a reality warpin' pal :>

THIS PROMPT IS SO COOL reader is just "I can make this land go oooooOo but I will not"

It also reminds me of a friend's oc!! They're a sentient imp drive and yes

Active

HANK

Obviously he's so very wary of you

He may know you have good intentions but look what that mf drive did to Hof. He ain't playing it like that

So he's cautious

But hey at least he tolerates you!!

Although we all know hank, he's just very "I do not care" energy

But... let's be honest... he's kinda intimidated

Not outright scared, just intimidated

You can just snap ur fingers and he'd probably be sent to the shadow realm idk a different plane of existence

So he's a lot more.... respectful?? Around you

Sometimes just watches you

You... eventually... get used to it :]

He just thinks you look neat!

SANFORD

Very confused

But supportive!

"So like, you can like... open portals? And stuff?"

"In a way, yes."

"...Duuuuude..."

Sometimes has an existential crisis over you KDHAJDJS

Nicknames you artin, because Artificial Intelligence is too long to call you

The reason why he calls you that is bc the only way he can understand what you are is by just saying you're sentient AI that can destroy the reality they all knew (technically it was already destroyed but... funni...)

Look, he's tryin his best

Thanks you look rad as fuck. Like, holograms? Robotic silicone-like skin?? heLL YEAh

DEIMOS

you're a robot

he's a technician

what more do I say?

a lot more, actually:

He loves talking with you

When it comes to many things, Deimos isn't that... knowledgeable

But when talking with you? About robotics, and your functions?

Mans is even confusing 2B HAHAHA

It's like he's speaking a different language to everyone else

But ofc you understand. Ur the robot duh

He loves learning cool things ab the imp drive by asking you questions

If you're a hologram-ish body, he loves studying your features, noting how you look and how the imp drive looks through your barely-noticeable translucent body

If you have an android-like body, he kinda wants to take you apart loves studying you even more! He thinks your skin feels very realistic !! :]

JEBUS

Once you were created by AAHW (this was after Tricky has became a thing bc angst) he wanted nothing to do with you

He wanted to stay far away, he didnt want to be reminded of back then

But unfortunately just because the stars aligned for him just to see him suffer, you're assigned to him purposefully because he's worked with imp drives before

They would put a certain someone else on it but yknow. Theyve moved on to being a Murderous Clown and all

He tries to keep himself as distanced as possible when working with you, but you were persistent

You had no idea why this random man seemed to despise you, so you wanted to at least know, if you couldnt be able to fix it

He ends up caving in and gets to know you

After some time he realizes- maybe it isn't all that bad, since you're not placed into a living being that had its own mind, you're Your Own Self

That can also go apeshit at any time but like. That's easier to control. You're updated, and fine-tuned to not do so. Nobody wants that to happen again...

Actually thinks you look pretty cool, no matter how you look

Once he finally reveals why he's tried to isolate himself at first, you felt guilty

"...In a way, he's mentally doing a lot better. A lot more freedom, if that ma-"

"That isn't helping, but thank you."

You curtly nodded and left him alone

TRICKY

Oooohhhohbohohohohohohbobobo rubs my evil little hands together

Because I'm like that, you were created while he was still Hofnarr

You two were very close, him asking you so many questions- more than Deimos, yes

But once you were discontinued after Hof went on his first outburst of violence after the drive was put into him, you didn't see him until...

One day... Somewhere in Nevada, I can't remember exactly, I was brought back to life.

The one that brought me back was peculiar. Somewhere in my memory, I've seen them before.

Green skin, red, curly hair, scars and blood littered on their body. Teeth that could tear, coupled with bloodstained nonexistent lips.

...but it's been a while since I've last been activated, and I was unfortunately 12 system updates behind. My memory was muddled...

"HELLO!!!! FAMILIARITY!!!"

This creature was very friendly with you, despite its menacing looks

After suddenly pairing up with who you now know as Tricky, you two got closer

You connected the dots after a certain conversation one day

"Tricky, why is your skin green? Aren't those qualifications of being undead?" I was looking up at the sky as I asked this. I didn't expect to hear the noise that the clown made.

It was a cross between confusion and discontent. I looked over to see them rubbing their temples.

"CLOWN CANNOT RECALL. ALL CAN THINK OF IS HIM."

"Him?" I couldn't ignore the fact that while he was still moderately loud, he was quieter than usual. The voice... it sounded familiar.

"HIM...J-JEeeb..."

Once he said that, you immediately blanked out, a large exclamation point flashed in your vision, and blue static broke up your view of the clown

Your "brain" started chugging again, and whatever was hidden in the storage files was suddenly forcefully called up- images, audio, all of these things making you shout a name you haven't said in a long time

"H-HOFNARR?"