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solar-wing · 2 months

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⚣ Too Late 💙

⚣💙 A/N → request for @alexanderstarhero! Hope you enjoy it! Also, I apologize for my extended absence. I have a job, I'm starting a new school program, and business-related things keep me busy, but I'm still here guys! I promise! Not sure how I feel about this one. I feel like I could've done better but we desperately need some more Clark Kent x male reader though so here you go. Which, by the way, if you haven't checked out @nouearth, his Clark fics and literally everything else makes me melt and feel unholy things. Churches beware. ANYWAY, Hope everyone likes it! WARNINGS: Magical Male Reader | Angst & Fluff | Childhood Friends To Lovers | SFW |

⚣💙 Summary → You know, one would think moving to a completely different city in hopes of forgetting your past life and feelings would be enough. But fate is a sneaky little bastard that just loves to play with your feelings. Is it too late for a do-over?

⚣💙 Words → 12.4K

REBLOGS & replies are greatly appreciated, please! 💙

⚣ ENJOY 💙

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The city lights of Metropolis flickered through the windows of a small, cozy apartment, where the hum of traffic below provided a constant background noise. Y/N stood by the window, a glass of juice in hand, staring out at the skyline. Since moving to the city, he often found himself feeling nostalgic, with old memories of Smallville popping into his mind more frequently than he’d like. Most of those memories had a common thread.

A soft sigh escaped his lips as he took a sip of his juice, the cool liquid doing little to ease the anxious tightness in his chest. Moving to Metropolis was supposed to be a fresh start—a way to leave behind his past and focus on building a better, normal life for himself, free from the constraints of small-town life.

Since he was a baby, Y/N had been gifted with magical abilities. How he got these powers was a mystery to both him and his parents; they could never find any trace of magical ability in their ancestry. With no idea where the powers came from, and no one to turn to for help, his parents did everything they could to hide their son’s abilities from the outside world. They tried their best to teach him control, but without expertise, they were flying blind.

Growing up, Y/N barely knew how to control or use his powers. You’d think in a small town like his, people would have noticed or called in the town priest, but that wasn’t the case. In Metropolis, when something strange happened—something that often happened to Y/N—people would give him odd looks, but then they’d move on with their day as if nothing out of the ordinary had occurred. In Smallville, though, everyone treated it as normal.

After the Kents arrived with their new kid, who seemingly appeared out of nowhere, the town acted as if every strange occurrence was just part of everyday life. They quickly shut down anyone who dared to question it, and that extended to both Clark Kent and Y/N.

Small towns were usually known for everyone knowing everyone’s business. Gossip was the native language. But not in Smallville. Y/N couldn’t help but smile a little at the memory of how the line between the ordinary and the extraordinary seemed to blur there. Most places would have been up in arms if they noticed the strange occurrences that happened in Smallville. But in that little Kansas town, people had an uncanny ability to overlook the impossible, shrugging off the extraordinary as if it were just another quirk of life.

Take Clark Kent, for instance. Anyone could see that something was different about him. He was stronger, faster, and able to do things most grown men couldn’t even imagine, let alone a small farm boy. But the townsfolk never questioned it. They simply accepted that he could do things no one else could and moved on.

It was the same with Y/N. He might accidentally cause a book to float off a shelf or a light to flicker when he was upset, but no one in Smallville ever made a fuss, something his parents were very grateful for. There were whispers—there always are in small towns—but they never left closed doors. The people of Smallville had learned long ago to mind their own business, especially when it came to the Kents and Y/N.

Even more so when a bunch of guys in black suits, glasses, and SUVs showed up one week, probing around town and asking strange questions. It had been after one of the more noticeable incidents—a moment when Clark saved someone in a way that couldn’t be easily explained. If there was one thing you could count on from a small town, it was that they weren’t saying anything to those types of Feds or government officials.

The memory was still vivid in Y/N’s mind: the way the town closed ranks, the polite but firm way the locals deflected every question, sending agents on wild goose chases until they finally gave up. His parents had mentioned that it was nothing compared to when that strange meteor hit the Kent farm and a bunch of government agents and scientists showed up—the same week the Kents got a new kid named Clark.

It was as if the entire town had decided, collectively and without speaking a word, that whatever was going on with the Kents—and by extension, Y/N—was their business and no one else’s. The unspoken rule in Smallville was clear: if you saw something strange, you didn’t see it. You didn’t ask questions, and you certainly didn’t talk about it. It was a kind of willful ignorance, a way for the town to protect its own from prying eyes. And in some strange, twisted way, it worked.

Y/N often wondered how much of it was a conscious choice and how much was just the way Smallville was. It was as if the town itself had decided to shield them, to create a bubble where the extraordinary was just another part of everyday life.

But as comforting as that was, it was also suffocating. Because even in a town that turned a blind eye to the unusual, Y/N couldn’t escape the feeling that he was different, that there was something wrong with him. He couldn’t shake the fear that one day, the bubble would burst, and everyone would see him for what he really was—a freak, an outcast.

At least he had a friend.

Imagine the two kids in town who both had episodes of strange, inexplicable things happening to them or around them becoming friends. Completely ironic, like something straight out of a story. Unless...

...

Nah.

But in a place where the extraordinary was treated with a shrug, having someone like Clark as a friend made all the difference. It was as if fate—or whatever unseen force governed the universe—had decided that these two oddities should find each other. And find each other they did, in the most natural, unassuming way possible.

Clark and Y/N became fast friends, drawn together by their shared experiences of feeling different, even if neither of them fully understood why. They never talked about the strange things that happened to them, never discussed how Clark could lift bales of hay like they weighed nothing, or how Y/N could sometimes make things move with just a thought. It was an unspoken agreement, a mutual understanding that whatever was happening to them was theirs to carry, together.

In a town that turned a blind eye to the impossible, Clark was the one person who made Y/N feel like he wasn’t alone. There was a quiet comfort in their friendship, a sense of belonging that Y/N had never felt before. They were both outsiders in their own way, but together, they found a place where they could be themselves, where they didn’t have to pretend or hide.

But as they grew older, that comfort became a source of anxiety for Y/N. The more time he spent with Clark, the more he realized that his feelings for his friend were deeper than just friendship. He cared about Clark in a way that went beyond the bond they shared, and it terrified him. In a town that could overlook floating books and superhuman strength, there were still lines that couldn’t be crossed, and Y/N knew that his feelings for Clark were one of them.

He tried to suppress those feelings, to bury them deep inside where they couldn’t cause any harm. But the harder he tried, the more they grew, until it became impossible to ignore them. He started to pull away, putting distance between himself and Clark, hoping that space would make the feelings fade. It didn’t.

Plus, Y/N still didn’t understand the extent of his abilities, and he knew sometimes his powers would react to his emotions. He didn’t want to risk doing anything that could hurt Clark. He didn’t think he’d be able to live with himself if something happened because of his inability to control his powers.

Yet, good old noble Clark, always perceptive and caring, noticed the change. He didn’t push or pry, but there was always that look in his eyes, a quiet concern that only made Y/N’s heart ache more. Clark didn’t know why Y/N was pulling away, but he never stopped trying to bridge the gap. He was always there with a smile, a warm word, or an invitation to hang out, never letting the distance between them grow too wide.

It was those small gestures that made it so hard for Y/N to keep his resolve. Every time he saw Clark, every time Clark reached out, Y/N was reminded of why he had fallen for him in the first place. Clark was kind, selfless, and endlessly patient—the kind of person who would give you the shirt off his back without a second thought. How could Y/N not fall in love with someone like that?

But that love was exactly what made Y/N so afraid. The more he cared about Clark, the more he feared losing him, either because of his uncontrolled magic or because of the feelings he couldn’t keep buried forever. He knew that if he stayed in Smallville, if he stayed close to Clark, something would eventually slip. Maybe he’d accidentally reveal his powers, or maybe his feelings would come spilling out in a moment of weakness. Either way, Y/N was sure that it would end with Clark looking at him differently, seeing him as something strange, something other.

Thankfully, the age of adulthood and high school graduation came, and Y/N took that as his way out. His parents were as worried as ever about him moving to a college so far away, but he reassured them he’d be fine.

He decided on college in New York, thinking the change from small town to big city was exactly what he needed. At least there, it made sense for people to turn a blind eye to whatever strange things were going on around them.

But even throughout his years of undergrad, Y/N could never shake the memories of Smallville, and more specifically, he could never forget Clark. No matter how much distance he put between them, the memories of their friendship lingered, haunting him in the quiet moments when he was alone. He would often catch himself thinking about Clark—wondering what he was doing, if he was still in Smallville, if he had moved on with his life the way Y/N had tried to.

Y/N thought that maybe, over time, those feelings would fade, that he would move on and forget the boy who had once meant everything to him. But they never did. Even in the crowded, bustling city of New York, where life moved at a breakneck pace and there was always something new to distract him, Y/N found his thoughts drifting back to Clark.

He tried dating other people, hoping that maybe if he found someone else, someone who wasn’t Clark, it would help him move on. But it never worked. No one else could compare to the boy who had always been there for him, who had seen him at his worst and never judged him for it. Every relationship ended the same way, with Y/N feeling like he was chasing something he could never have, like he was trying to fill a void that only Clark could fill.

Then, after graduation, Y/N was offered a job in Metropolis. It was a great opportunity, the kind of offer he couldn’t turn down. It wasn’t too far from where he was already living, but he figured a new change of scenery couldn’t be too bad.

Plus, he wanted to check out the rumors he’d heard of some sort of superhero who had started making headlines in Metropolis. The stories seemed almost too wild to believe—a man with superhuman strength, speed, and the ability to fly, saving people and fighting crime in the heart of the city. It was the kind of thing that would have been dismissed as tabloid nonsense anywhere else, but Y/N knew better. If there was one thing Smallville had taught him, it was that the extraordinary often hid in plain sight.

So, with a mix of curiosity and the desire for a fresh start, Y/N packed his bags and moved to Metropolis. He found a small, cozy apartment in a quieter part of the city, close enough to the action but far enough to avoid the chaos. The job was great—challenging, fulfilling, and exactly what he needed to take his mind off things. But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t escape the feeling that he was still running, still trying to outrun the shadow of his past.

Despite his attempts to leave his old life behind, Y/N couldn’t completely ignore his powers. He had spent too long hiding them, too long fearing them, but deep down, he believed that if he had these abilities, he should use them for good. In Smallville, he had been careful, using his magic only when absolutely necessary, but here in Metropolis, he found himself with more opportunities to help in small, subtle ways.

He’d mend a broken bike chain with a whisper of an incantation or quietly heal a scraped knee when no one was looking. He’d use his magic to nudge a stray cat away from traffic or to coax a wilting plant back to life. He was always careful, always discreet, making sure that no one noticed the little miracles he performed. It was his way of giving back, of using the gifts he had been given to make the world around him just a little bit better.

But there were times when he couldn’t help but step in and do more.

One evening, he walked past a small, family-owned bookstore that he had become fond of. The owner, an elderly man who had run the shop for decades, was sitting behind the counter with a look of deep worry on his face. Over the weeks, Y/N had noticed the shelves becoming sparser, and the customers fewer. The man had confided in Y/N once, mentioning how the business was struggling, how the bills were piling up, and how he feared he might lose the store if things didn’t turn around soon.

Y/N couldn’t bear to see the man lose everything he had worked so hard to build. So, that night, under the cover of darkness, Y/N returned to the bookstore. He stood outside the shop, focusing his energy on the building, weaving a spell that would attract more customers and give the store a sense of warmth and welcoming. He whispered incantations for prosperity and good fortune, sending out waves of magic that would subtly influence the minds of those who passed by, drawing them in with an inexplicable urge to browse and buy.

Over the next few days, Y/N was delighted to see the shop bustling with customers. The owner’s smile returned, and the store was once again filled with the chatter of people and the smell of fresh coffee brewing in the corner. The shelves began to fill up again, and the old man even had to hire an assistant to help him manage the increasing business.

Another time, he found himself playing guardian angel when he was walking home from work one night and spotted a young woman on the opposite side of the street, her pace quickening as she noticed a group of men following her. Y/N’s heart raced, and he quickly assessed the situation. He couldn’t confront them directly—he wasn’t a superhero—but he could help in other ways.

A few thoughts and concentrated focus, and suddenly a series of events unfolded: a nearby street light flickered and went out, casting the area in shadow; a loud crash from behind pulled the men's attention away from her; a gentle breeze nudged her toward a more populated, well-lit area. With the streetlight out, it gave her natural cover long enough to slip out of sight and into the safety of a nearby diner, the sound of her heels muffled by Y/N’s magic.

Y/N watched from a distance, relieved when the woman was safe inside, her would-be attackers now lost and confused. It wasn’t the first time he had done something like that, and it wouldn’t be the last.

Recently, he visited a local hospital where a friend’s child was being treated. The doctors were worried; the illness wasn’t responding to treatment, and the prognosis was grim. Y/N spent hours by the child’s bedside, speaking softly to him, holding his hand. When no one was looking, he let his magic flow through him, just a touch, just enough to help the child’s body fight back.

The next morning, the doctors were stunned by the sudden improvement. They couldn’t explain it, chalked it up to a miracle or a sudden turn of fate, but Y/N knew better. He slipped away before anyone could question it, leaving behind only a whispered prayer of thanks for the child’s recovery.

Y/N never took credit for any of his acts. And while they weren’t grand, weren’t the stuff of legends, they were enough to give him a sense of purpose, a way to use his gifts without drawing too much attention. He was careful, always careful, to remain in the shadows, to let the world think these small miracles were just coincidences, nothing more.

But now, standing in his apartment, staring out at the city skyline, Y/N couldn’t help but feel like he was right back where he started. The memories of Smallville were stronger than ever, and the loneliness he had tried so hard to escape felt more suffocating in this big city than it ever had in the small town.

It had been years since he left, but the memories of that quiet town still lingered in his mind, especially the memories of Clark Kent. He just couldn’t figure out why they had suddenly become so strong. Maybe it was the time of year, or maybe it was because he had been thinking about how he used his magic to help people in Metropolis—something that Clark would surely approve of, even if he never knew about it.

Or maybe it was because, despite everything he had done to distance himself, Clark had always been there, a constant presence in his thoughts, no matter how much Y/N tried to move on.

He took another sip of his juice, the cool liquid doing little to ease the tightness in his chest. He hadn’t seen Clark in years, hadn’t heard from him since he left Smallville, but the feelings he had for his old friend hadn’t faded. If anything, they had only grown stronger, deepening with time and distance. And that was what scared him the most—how much he still cared, how much he still missed him.

Y/N set his glass down on the windowsill, running a hand through his hair as he tried to shake off the nostalgia. He had a new life now, a good life, and he couldn’t afford to dwell on the past. Clark was probably living his own life, happy and successful, just as Y/N was trying to do.

But the more he tried to push the memories away, the more they clung to him, like shadows that refused to disappear. He sighed, turning his gaze out the window, hoping that the familiar sight of the city would ground him, would remind him of the new path he had chosen.

The city lights twinkled in the distance, a sea of illumination against the darkened sky. Y/N’s eyes scanned the skyline absently, taking in the familiar sights he had grown accustomed to since moving to Metropolis. But something caught his eye, something unusual that made his breath catch in his throat.

High above the city, a figure streaked across the sky, moving with impossible speed and grace. Y/N’s heart skipped a beat as he recognized the red and blue blur—a sight that had become increasingly familiar to the citizens of Metropolis. It was Superman.

Y/N watched, mesmerized, as the figure soared through the night, his movements precise and powerful. But as he watched, a strange sensation began to creep over him, a feeling that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. It wasn’t just awe or admiration—though those feelings were there, too—it was something deeper, something unsettling.

There was something about Superman, something in the way he moved, in the way he seemed to command the air around him, that tugged at the edges of Y/N’s consciousness. It was as if some hidden part of him recognized the hero in the sky, even though he knew that was impossible. He had never met Superman, had never been anywhere near him. And yet…

Y/N pressed his hand against the cool glass of the window, his heart pounding in his chest. His magic, usually so controlled, began to stir, responding to the swirl of emotions inside him. The sensation was both familiar and alien, a strange mix of nostalgia and unease that made his chest tighten.

As he watched Superman disappear into the distance, Y/N couldn’t shake the eerie feeling that had settled over him. It was as if the presence of the hero had awakened something inside him, something that had been dormant for years. And with that awakening came a sense of foreboding, a nagging feeling that his past was not as far behind him as he had hoped.

Y/N tore his gaze away from the window, trying to dispel the uneasy feeling that had taken root in his chest. But even as he turned away, the sense of familiarity lingered, haunting him like a ghost from a life he had tried so hard to leave behind.

He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath, but the image of Superman remained burned into his mind, along with the inexplicable sense that something—someone—was drawing him back into a world he thought he had escaped.

And deep down, Y/N knew that this was only the beginning.

The grand ballroom of the Metropolis City Hall buzzed with chatter, the clinking of glasses, and the occasional burst of laughter. The charity event his job was sponsoring was in full swing, a glamorous affair with the city’s elite mingling and donating to a worthy cause. Y/N stood near the edge of the room, awkwardly holding a glass of water and wondering how quickly he could make a polite escape.

This wasn’t exactly his scene. Networking? Sure. Small talk? Not so much. Especially with these tone-deaf, overly stiff airheads. He glanced around, trying to locate the nearest exit, but the sea of people made it difficult. And just when he thought found a suitable path of escape, a waiter with a tray of hors d'oeuvres suddenly appeared in front of him.

“Crab cake?”

“Uh, no thanks,” Y/N mumbled, sidestepping the tray, only to nearly collide with a woman in a sequined dress who was clearly on a mission to get to the bar. He offered a quick apology and finally made it to a quiet corner, where he could breathe again.

As he scanned the room, his thoughts drifted back to last night and a certain caped superhero. His curiosity combined with the still overwhelming feelings of longing and nostalgia had the magic in him feeling antsy. And the last thing Y/N needed was to accidentally cause a chandelier to implode or a champagne glass to refill itself endlessly.

He closed his eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath to steady himself, not wanting to make a big scene considering he wanted to make a hasty and sneaky exit. As he opened his eyes, Y/N forced his thoughts away from Superman, away from the strange connection he’d felt the night before. He needed to focus on the present, on getting through this evening without incident.

Y/N sighed, taking a sip of his water. This was supposed to be a fresh start. The past was behind him, and he needed to keep it that way.

But fate, as it often does, had other plans. Little sneaky bastard.

Just as he was about to make a break for the exit, Y/N’s eyes caught sight of someone across the room, and his heart nearly stopped. There, standing by the dessert table with a bemused expression, was Clark Kent.

Of course, Clark would be standing around looking lost with his cute little confused expression. Even now as a grown man, Clark managed to keep his boyish and innocent demeanor. Y/N’s mouth went dry as his eyes took in the sight of the male—older, more polished, and just as big as ever.

Since they were little, Clark always stood out among the other kids for his build and height alone. And it looks like that didn't change with the way he towered over everyone in the room and how his broad shoulders filled out his suit perfectly, the fabric clinging just right in all the places that mattered. Y/N felt a familiar flutter in his chest, a mix of nostalgia and something more complicated that he’d been trying to ignore for years.

Clark, as if sensing someone’s gaze on him, looked up from the dessert table. His eyes, those same bright blue eyes that Y/N remembered so well, scanned the room briefly before landing directly on him. Y/N’s heart skipped a beat, and for a split second, he considered ducking behind the nearest potted plant.

For a moment, neither of them moved. Y/N could feel his pulse in his throat, and for a second, he entertained the idea of hiding behind the nearest potted plant.

But then Clark’s face lit up with a grin that could have powered the entire room, and he started making his way over, weaving through the crowd with the kind of determined politeness that only Clark could pull off.

Panic set in, and Y/N’s mind scrambled for a plan, but his feet were rooted to the spot, his body betraying him. All he could do was watch as Clark closed the distance between them, that familiar grin never leaving his face.

“Y/N!” Clark’s voice was as warm and friendly as Y/N remembered, and before he knew it, he was being pulled into a hug that was just as firm and comforting as it had always been.

Y/N stiffened for a moment, caught off guard by the unexpected embrace. When Clark finally pulled back, still keeping a hand on Y/N’s shoulder as if afraid he might vanish, Y/N couldn’t help but notice the slight smudge of chocolate on Clark’s tie. It was such a Clark thing to have—always a little messy, always endearing.

“Clark,” Y/N managed to say, his voice coming out more breathless than he intended. “It’s been a while.”

Clark beamed at him, the smile reaching his eyes in that way that always made Y/N feel like everything was going to be okay. “Yeah, it really has,” Clark said, his tone filled with a warmth that made Y/N’s heart ache with memories of simpler times. “I almost didn’t recognize you without the Smallville backdrop.”

Y/N let out a small laugh, trying to keep things light despite the sudden rush of emotions threatening to overwhelm him. “Yeah, I guess we’ve both changed a bit.”

Clark’s gaze lingered on Y/N’s face, a mix of curiosity and concern in his eyes. It was clear that Clark had questions, but to his credit, he didn’t push. Instead, he gave Y/N one of those easy, reassuring smiles that had always been able to calm him down. “I’m really glad to see you again. I’ve missed you, Y/N.”

There it was—the punch to the gut that Y/N had been dreading. He had missed Clark too, more than he wanted to admit. But standing here, face-to-face with him after all these years, all those old fears and feelings began to resurface. The fear of Clark discovering the truth about his powers, about his feelings. The fear of losing the one person who had always meant the most to him.

“I’ve missed you too,” Y/N said, the words slipping out before he could stop them. It was the truth, but saying it out loud made the tightness in his chest even worse.

Clark’s smile softened, and for a brief moment, it felt like they were the only two people in the room. Y/N could almost believe that they could pick up where they left off, that everything could go back to the way it was. But deep down, he knew it could never be that simple.

His smile didn’t waver, but his eyes narrowed slightly, a familiar look of concern flickering across his face. “You okay? You seem a little… off.”

Y/N forced a laugh, hoping it didn’t sound as strained as it felt. “I’m fine, just—uh—surprised, I guess. I didn’t expect to see you here.”

“Well, surprise!” Clark laughed with his usual shy manner that was somehow still charming for Y/N’s frayed nerves. “I’ve been working at the Daily Planet. Moved to Metropolis not too long ago. How about you? What brings you here?”

“Work,” Y/N answered quickly, trying to keep the conversation light. “Got a job offer I couldn’t turn down.”

Clark nodded, his eyes never leaving Y/N. It was as if he was trying to read him, to figure out what was going on beneath the surface. For a moment, Y/N was afraid that Clark could see right through him, could see the turmoil and conflict he was struggling with.

But then, the moment passed, and Clark was smiling again, his expression softening.

Y/N cleared his throat, forcing his thoughts away from the past and back to the present. "So, the Daily Planet, huh? That’s a pretty big deal," he said, trying to keep the conversation light.

Clark’s eyes lit up, and he nodded enthusiastically. "Yeah! It’s been a dream come true. And the best part? I get to work with some amazing people—Lois Lane and Jimmy Olsen. They’re right over there, actually," Clark added, his tone suddenly turning a bit more nervous. "You’ve got to meet them!"

Before Y/N could even process the idea, Clark grabbed his arm, leading him through the crowd with an urgency that caught Y/N off guard. He barely had time to adjust before they were standing in front of a petite woman with sharp eyes and a confident demeanor, who was mid-conversation with a young man enthusiastically fiddling with a vintage camera.

"Lois! Jimmy!" Clark called out, drawing their attention.

Lois turned first, her eyes narrowing slightly as she took in Y/N. Then her expression softened into a warm, welcoming smile. "Clark! Who’s this?"

Clark beamed, looking from Lois to Y/N with a hint of nervous energy. "This is Y/N. We grew up together in Smallville."

"Smallville?" Lois’s eyebrow arched with clear interest. "Now that’s a place with some stories, I bet."

Jimmy, now peering at Y/N through the lens of his camera, quickly snapped a picture before lowering it with an apologetic grin. "Sorry, couldn’t resist. It’s a habit."

Y/N chuckled, shaking his head. "No worries. I’m used to it."

Lois leaned in, her curiosity clearly piqued. "So, Y/N, what was Clark like back in Smallville? I can only imagine."

Y/N glanced at Clark, who looked both hopeful and slightly anxious. "Clark and I were pretty much inseparable growing up," Y/N said with a smile, trying to keep the conversation light. "He was always the guy you could count on, the one who’d help you out of a jam and then offer you pie afterward."

Lois’s eyes twinkled with intrigue, clearly not ready to let the topic go. "Pie and jam, huh? Sounds like you two got into some interesting situations. Any fun stories you care to share?"

Y/N felt his heart rate pick up. He could sense the inquisitiveness behind Lois’s casual tone, the way she was gently probing for more. She was good—really good. "Oh, you know, small-town stuff," he said, forcing a chuckle. "Mostly just boring farm work and school."

Clark, sensing Y/N’s discomfort, quickly jumped in. "Yeah, nothing too exciting. Just your average childhood, right, Y/N?"

"Right," Y/N agreed, a bit too quickly. He could feel Lois’s eyes on him, studying him, and it made his magic stir uneasily. The last thing he wanted was for her to start asking more pointed questions that might lead her to the truth.

Lois didn’t miss a beat. "So, you two must have been really close, then. I bet you know all of Clark’s secrets," she said with a teasing smile, though there was a hint of genuine curiosity in her voice.

Y/N’s stomach dropped. He forced another laugh, this one more strained. "Well, everyone’s got their secrets, right?"

Lois raised an eyebrow, clearly catching the subtle tension in Y/N’s voice. "True," she said slowly, her eyes narrowing slightly as if trying to piece together a puzzle. "But something tells me you’re not just any old friend from Smallville."

Clark, sensing that the conversation was veering into dangerous territory, let out a nervous laugh. "Lois, come on, don’t interrogate him on the first meeting!"

Jimmy, sensing the shift in tone, chimed in, grinning as he tried to lighten the mood. "Yeah, Lois, ease up! You don’t want to scare off Clark’s oldest friend."

Lois gave a soft laugh, raising her hands in mock surrender. "Alright, alright. I’ll back off… for now."

Y/N smiled, but there was a tightness in his chest that he couldn’t shake. Lois’s perceptiveness had always been one of her strengths, and it was clear she was picking up on more than he wanted to reveal.

"Seriously, though," Lois said, her tone softening as she gave Y/N a more genuine smile. "It’s good to meet you. Any friend of Clark’s is a friend of ours."

Y/N relaxed slightly, appreciating the warm reception despite his earlier nerves. "Thanks, Lois. I appreciate that."

As the conversation continued, Y/N found himself relaxing a bit more, though the earlier tension still lingered in the back of his mind. He knew he’d have to be careful around Lois—her curiosity and sharp instincts were not something to be underestimated.

Lois, ever the sharp-eyed reporter, leaned closer to Y/N. "So, what brings you to Metropolis? Work?"

"Yeah," Y/N nodded, "I got an offer I couldn’t turn down."

Lois nodded, impressed. "Well, welcome to the city. You know, we’re always looking for interesting people to feature in the Planet. Maybe we’ll run into each other more often."

"Maybe," Y/N said, feeling a bit more at ease. "It’s a small world after all."

Clark chuckled at that, his earlier nervousness fading as the conversation flowed more naturally. "I’m really glad we ran into each other, Y/N. We should definitely hang out more. I mean, if you’re not too busy with work."

Realistically, Y/N should have declined. He should have politely excused himself and gone home, putting an end to the whole thing. But when he looked at Clark, saw the hope and excitement in his eyes, he couldn't bring himself to say no.

All his nervous thoughts and reservations about what could happen if he allowed himself to get close to Clark again seemed to just fade to the back of his mind as he re-connected with him and got to know his two friends. A new familiar feeling also settled in place as well, but not so much nostalgia.

It was more of something he didn't even remember feeling. A sense of ease and comfort, his magic calm and feeling completely grounded. A feeling he hadn't experienced in a long time but something that wasn't new or unfamiliar, a very welcomed sensation and peace.

"I'd love to," Y/N said, his heart skipping a beat.

Clark's smile was brighter than the sun, and though Y/N knew he was in trouble just for that, emotions and impulse overtook his logic. Thus, he didn't really care.

As the night continued, Y/N found himself more at ease, the earlier tension gradually dissipating. Lois, ever the investigative reporter, kept throwing glances his way, but she seemed content for now, her curiosity temporarily satisfied. Jimmy, meanwhile, was snapping pictures of everything and everyone, his energy infectious.

Y/N had to admit, despite his initial apprehension, he was enjoying himself. The company was good, the conversation flowed easily, and for the first time in a long time, he felt like he was part of something. A small part of him wondered if this was what he had been missing—connection, camaraderie, a sense of belonging.

Clark leaned in closer, a warm smile on his face. "So, Y/N, how have you been? I mean, really been?"

Y/N paused, considering his answer. He could have brushed off the question, given a generic response about work being busy and life being hectic. But something about the way Clark asked, the genuine concern in his voice, made Y/N want to be honest.

"I’ve been… okay," Y/N said, the words coming out slower than he expected. "Moving to Metropolis has been a big change, but it’s good. I’m still finding my way, I guess."

Clark nodded, his expression softening with understanding. "I get that. Moving here was a big adjustment for me too. But you know, it helps when you’ve got friends around. People you can rely on."

Y/N smiled at that, a warmth spreading through him. "Yeah, it does."

Lois, sensing the shift in the conversation, jumped back in with her trademark curiosity. "So, Y/N, what exactly do you do for work? You mentioned an offer you couldn’t turn down."

Y/N hesitated, not wanting to reveal too much. "I work in consulting," he said, keeping it vague. "It’s a bit of everything, really. I help businesses with strategy, operations, that sort of thing."

Lois’s eyes narrowed slightly, clearly not satisfied with the lack of detail, but she let it slide, for now. "That sounds interesting. Metropolis must be a great place for that kind of work."

"It is," Y/N replied, grateful she didn’t press further.

Jimmy, ever the enthusiastic one, suddenly popped up between them, holding out his camera. "Hey, how about a picture? You guys look great together!"

Y/N barely had time to react before Jimmy was positioning them for a shot, his camera clicking away. Clark chuckled, clearly used to Jimmy’s antics, while Lois struck a pose with practiced ease.

As they waited for the flash, Y/N couldn’t help but feel a sense of surrealism wash over him. Here he was, reconnecting with an old friend, surrounded by new ones, in a city that was starting to feel less like a strange place and more like a potential home.

The camera flashed, capturing the moment, and Jimmy grinned as he checked the screen. "Perfect! This one’s definitely going in the album."

Lois nodded in agreement, a smile on her face. "Yeah, this is one for the books. You’re officially part of the crew now, Y/N."

Y/N laughed, the sound genuine and light. "Well, I guess there’s no turning back now."

Clark’s smile was warm, his eyes shining with something that made Y/N’s heart skip a beat. "I’m really glad you’re here, Y/N. It feels like old times."

Y/N nodded, feeling a mix of emotions swirl within him. "Yeah, it does."

As the evening drew on, the four of them continued to chat, the conversation flowing easily between light-hearted banter and more serious topics. Y/N felt a connection with Clark and his friends that he hadn’t felt in a long time, and for the first time since moving to Metropolis, he allowed himself to relax and enjoy the moment.

But as the night wore on and the event began to wind down, Y/N couldn’t shake the nagging feeling at the back of his mind. Lois’s earlier questions had been harmless enough, but he knew her type—persistent, sharp, and always on the lookout for a story. He couldn’t afford to let his guard down too much, especially with his magic always threatening to reveal itself.

Yet, despite the risks, Y/N found himself wanting to spend more time with Clark, to catch up on the years they’d missed, and maybe even find a way to make this new life in Metropolis work. It was a dangerous line to walk, but for tonight, he was willing to take that risk.

As they all said their goodbyes and made plans to meet up again soon, Y/N felt a sense of contentment settle over him. Maybe this fresh start in Metropolis wouldn’t be as complicated as he feared. Maybe, just maybe, he could find a way to balance the old and the new, to keep his secrets while building something real with the people who were quickly becoming more than just acquaintances.

And maybe, this time, since he was older and more aware and mature, he could keep his feelings for Clark in check.

Yeah, that hope didn't last long.

Y/N sighed as he stared up at the ceiling of his apartment, reflecting on how quickly things had spiraled out of control since reconnecting with Clark. It had only been a few weeks, but in that short time, his life had become a whirlwind of old emotions, new challenges, and unexpected complications.

He’d spent more time with Clark, Lois, and Jimmy than he had anticipated. There were coffee runs, after-work dinners, and late-night brainstorming sessions where Lois would excitedly discuss her latest scoop while Jimmy showed off his latest photos. Clark, ever the supportive friend, would listen intently, adding his own insights with that same gentle warmth that had always made Y/N feel at ease.

Lois and Jimmy were friendly and welcoming, but Y/N could never fully relax around them. He still had to always be on guard, constantly aware of the magic simmering just beneath the surface.

And despite the camaraderie, Y/N couldn’t shake the feeling of being out of place. It wasn’t just that he was trying to reintegrate into Clark’s life; it was the constant need to keep his magic under control, especially around Lois and Jimmy. The two of them were sharp—Lois, with her inquisitive nature, and Jimmy, with his keen eye for detail. They’d pick up on any slip-up, any sign that Y/N wasn’t just an ordinary guy from Smallville.

And then there were the moments of crisis—because Metropolis was never short on those. It seemed like every time Y/N was with the trio, something would happen. A runaway bus, a building fire, some random new villain on the loose—something always required Superman’s intervention. And every single time, Clark would disappear with a flimsy excuse, only for Superman to show up moments later.

The first time it happened, Y/N had been at a food truck with Clark and Jimmy, enjoying a rare sunny afternoon. They were laughing about something silly Jimmy had said when suddenly, the sound of screeching tires and panicked screams filled the air. Without missing a beat, Clark had mumbled something about needing to make a quick call and bolted, leaving Y/N standing there confused with Lois and Jimmy. Moments later, Superman was on the scene, saving the day like clockwork.

Lois and Jimmy had immediately sprung into action, Jimmy snapping photos while Lois started interviewing witnesses. They had been weirdly calm about the whole thing, a lot of things actually when Y/N thought about it. It was like Smallville all over again, things that should cause people to react with caution and apprehension, but instead, they barely blinked an eye.

It didn’t help that every time Clark returned, he looked winded and disheveled, and Lois would give him a knowing glance that made Y/N’s stomach twist with unease.

Meanwhile, he'd also been using his magic discreetly in these various scenarios to help keep people safe and minimize destruction and casualties. But in the chaos, he’d nearly been caught by Lois, who had turned around just as Y/N was subtly redirecting a beam of wood away from a trapped child.

“Hey, how’d you do that?” she’d asked, her sharp eyes narrowing in suspicion.

Y/N had stammered out a weak excuse, something about adrenaline and luck, but he could tell Lois wasn’t convinced. She’d given him that look—the one that said she wasn’t done with him yet.

And it wasn’t the last time, either. Every time something happened, Y/N found himself using his magic to help, and every time, he came dangerously close to being caught by Lois. She was perceptive, and it was clear she was starting to get suspicious. Her questions about his past, about his connection to Clark, were getting more pointed, and Y/N could feel the pressure mounting.

But there was another element to this that Y/N hadn’t anticipated—jealousy. The more time he spent with the group, the more he noticed how close Clark and Lois were. It wasn’t just their professional partnership; it was the way they interacted, the easy banter, the shared looks, the inside jokes. Y/N couldn’t help but notice the way Clark’s eyes lit up whenever Lois was around, how he seemed more at ease with her than anyone else.

It irritated Y/N more than he wanted to admit. He knew it was irrational—Clark was allowed to have close friends, and Lois was obviously important to him. But every time he saw them together, it felt like a thorn in his side, a constant reminder of how complicated things had become. It didn’t help that Lois was so naturally curious, always asking questions about his and Clark’s past, digging into their history with a relentless enthusiasm that made Y/N squirm.

And then there were the quiet moments—those rare instances when it was just Y/N and Clark, away from the chaos of the city. They’d talk about everything and nothing, slipping into the easy rhythm of their past friendship. But every time, Y/N felt the old feelings bubbling up, stronger than ever.

Like the night they’d gone for a walk along the Metropolis River. The city lights reflected off the water, casting a soft glow over everything. Clark had been unusually quiet, his hands tucked into his pockets as they strolled. Y/N had felt the tension between them, the unspoken words hanging in the air.

“I’m glad you’re here, Y/N,” Clark had said suddenly, breaking the silence. “It’s like… it feels right, having you around again.”

Y/N had smiled, but it hadn’t reached his eyes. He wanted to say something—anything—that would match the sincerity in Clark’s voice, but the words had caught in his throat. Instead, he’d just nodded, trying to ignore the way his heart raced every time Clark looked at him like that.

But every time they were together, every time Clark smiled at him or brushed against him accidentally, Y/N felt his resolve weakening. It was getting harder to pretend that everything was fine, that he didn’t still have feelings for Clark.

And as they spent more time together, Y/N couldn’t help but wonder—did Clark feel it too? There were moments, subtle ones, where Y/N thought he saw something in Clark’s eyes, a lingering gaze, a soft smile that seemed meant just for him. But then Clark would pull back, or Lois would step in, and Y/N was left questioning if it was all in his head.

But now, lying on his couch and staring at the ceiling, Y/N couldn’t ignore it anymore. The old feelings hadn’t just resurfaced—they were drowning him, pulling him under with a force he couldn’t fight.

It wasn’t just about Clark, though that was a huge part of it. It was the fear of what would happen if Clark—or worse, Lois and Jimmy—found out about his magic. They were all so caught up in their own world of secrets and dangers, and Y/N wasn’t sure if he could handle being part of it. He wasn’t sure if he could keep up the act much longer.

His phone buzzed on the coffee table, pulling him out of his thoughts. He glanced at the screen and saw a message from Clark: Hey, want to grab dinner with Lois and Jimmy? We’re thinking Thai.

Y/N hesitated for a moment before typing a quick reply: Sure, sounds good.

As he grabbed his jacket and headed out the door, Y/N couldn’t shake the feeling that he was walking a tightrope, balancing between the life he had built for himself and the one he had left behind. And with every step, he was getting closer to falling off.

As Y/N walked to the restaurant, he kept his hands stuffed deep in his pockets, trying to calm the unease that had settled in his chest. He needed to get a grip, to find a way to keep his feelings in check before they, and thus his magic spiraled out of control. The last thing he wanted was for Clark to notice—or worse, for Lois to start asking questions.

By the time he reached the restaurant, Y/N had managed to push his anxiety down, forcing a smile as he spotted Clark, Lois, and Jimmy waiting outside. Clark waved him over, his smile as bright as ever.

"Hey, glad you could make it," Clark greeted him with his usual warm and bright tone.

"Heh, wouldn't miss it," Y/N chuckled, trying to keep his voice casual.

As they ate, Y/N couldn’t help but notice the easy dynamic between Lois and Clark. There was a familiarity there, an unspoken understanding that made Y/N’s chest tighten with a mix of jealousy and longing. He wanted to be part of that, to be as close to Clark as Lois was.

But then Lois turned to him, her sharp eyes studying him with that same curiosity he’d noticed at the gala. “So, Y/N, what was Clark like back in Smallville? He never talks much about his hometown.”

Y/N felt his pulse quicken. He shot a quick glance at Clark, who was suddenly very interested in his pad Thai.

“Oh, you know,” Y/N began, trying to keep his tone light, “just your average small-town kid. We spent a lot of time getting into trouble and trying to keep out of it.”

Lois raised an eyebrow, clearly not satisfied with the vague answer. “Really? I find that hard to believe. Clark’s practically the poster boy for responsibility.”

Y/N forced a laugh, trying to deflect Lois’s probing gaze. “Yeah, well, even poster boys have their moments. We were just kids, you know? Doing dumb stuff like exploring abandoned barns or sneaking out to the creek after dark. Nothing too wild.”

Lois leaned in slightly, her eyes narrowing with that trademark inquisitiveness. “Come on, Y/N, you’re holding out on me. I want the juicy details. What kind of trouble did Clark get into?”

Y/N could feel the heat rising in his face, a mix of nerves, and the pressure of trying to avoid any slip-ups. “Honestly, it was mostly me dragging him into stuff. Clark was always the one keeping me out of serious trouble.”

Clark chuckled nervously, his eyes darting between Y/N and Lois. “Yeah, Y/N was always the adventurous one. I was just along for the ride.”

Jimmy, sensing the tension, tried to lighten the mood. “I don’t know, Lois. I think Clark’s just good at covering his tracks. Bet he’s got a whole secret rebellious side we don’t know about.”

Y/N’s heart skipped a beat at Jimmy’s words, the irony of the statement not lost on him. If only they knew just how many secrets Clark was hiding—or how many he was keeping himself.

Lois, however, wasn’t so easily deterred. “I don’t doubt it,” she said, her eyes flicking back to Y/N with a knowing smile. “And I bet you’ve got some secrets of your own, Y/N. You seem like the type who’s good at keeping things under wraps.”

Y/N’s smile faltered for just a second before he forced it back into place. “Who doesn’t have a few secrets?” he replied, trying to keep his tone light and nonchalant.

Lois’s gaze lingered on him a moment longer, and Y/N could practically feel her trying to piece together the puzzle she was sure he was hiding. He shifted uncomfortably, desperate to change the subject.

“Anyway,” Y/N said, his voice a bit too loud in his haste to redirect the conversation, “what about you guys? You’ve all been working together for a while now. Any crazy stories from the Daily Planet?”

Clark gave him a grateful smile, clearly relieved at the change in topic. “Oh, you know, it’s mostly just chasing down leads and trying to stay out of trouble ourselves.”

Lois smirked. “Mostly. There have been a few close calls, though. Like that time we were covering that gala and—”

But before she could continue, there was a sudden commotion outside the restaurant. The sound of screeching tires and shouting filled the air, followed by the unmistakable sound of something crashing into a building.

Clark’s expression immediately shifted to one of concern. “I’ll, uh, be right back,” he mumbled, already moving toward the door.

Moments later, Superman was on the scene, and Y/N found himself once again in the midst of a crisis, trying to discreetly use his magic to help those around him. He directed falling debris away from pedestrians, subtly reinforced a crumbling wall, and calmed panicked civilians—all while trying to stay out of Lois’s line of sight.

As Y/N moved through the chaos, he couldn’t help but keep one eye on Lois. She was already pulling out her phone, likely trying to reach out to sources or start documenting the scene for the Daily Planet. But more than once, Y/N caught her glancing his way, her sharp eyes narrowing as if she were trying to figure something out.

It didn’t help that every time Y/N used his magic, Lois seemed to notice something was off. Like when he subtly redirected a falling streetlight away from a group of bystanders, Lois had been nearby and had whipped around, her eyes narrowing as she spotted Y/N standing there, his hand half-raised.

“Where, how did you—” she started, but Y/N cut her off quickly.

“Uh, just lucky timing,” he said, flashing what he hoped was a convincing grin.

Lois didn’t look convinced, but before she could press further, another explosion rocked the area as Superman swooped across the sky in a fight with some new villain. Lois’s attention was immediately drawn away as she dashed off to get closer to the action, leaving Y/N with a brief moment of relief.

But it was short-lived. He could feel the weight of his secret bearing down on him, the fear that at any moment, Lois would start putting the pieces together. She was too perceptive, too determined to uncover the truth, and Y/N was running out of excuses.

Y/N’s heart pounded as he watched Lois dart away, her focus now on Superman’s battle overhead. The city block was in chaos—buildings crumbling, cars overturned, and terrified civilians running for cover. Y/N could feel the familiar tingle of his magic, urging him to act, but he hesitated. He was too exposed, too close to Lois and Jimmy, who were both still in the thick of things, trying to stay safe while getting their story.

But then he saw it—a mother and her young child, trapped beneath a fallen piece of debris, their terrified cries cutting through the noise. Without thinking, Y/N moved. He knew he couldn’t just stand by and do nothing.

Darting through the chaos, he reached the trapped pair, his heart racing. The chunk of concrete pinning them was far too heavy for him to lift on his own, but that didn’t stop him from trying. He pretended to struggle with it for a moment, glancing around to make sure no one was watching too closely. Then, with a whispered incantation, he let his magic flow, lifting the debris just enough for the mother to pull her child to safety.

“Go! Get out of here!” Y/N urged them, and they didn’t need to be told twice. They scrambled to their feet and ran, not looking back.

But as Y/N released his grip on the concrete, allowing it to crash back to the ground, he felt a prickling at the back of his neck. He turned just in time to see Lois standing a few feet away, her eyes wide with a mixture of shock and suspicion.

“Y/N…” she started, her voice barely audible over the sounds of destruction around them. “How did you—”

Before she could finish, a loud crash interrupted her, drawing their attention to the ongoing battle above. Superman was locked in a fierce struggle with the villain, who was wielding some kind of energy weapon that was tearing through the city with reckless abandon.

Lois hesitated for a split second, torn between confronting Y/N and rushing to cover the story. The journalist in her won out, and she turned to run towards the action, but not before shooting Y/N one last look, a promise that this conversation wasn’t over.

Y/N let out a shaky breath, but there was no time to dwell on what Lois had seen. The battle was escalating, and the destruction was growing worse by the second. He knew he had to do more, had to use his magic more openly if he wanted to save lives. The fear of exposure warred with his instinct to help, but his desire to help won out.

As Y/N wove his way through the chaos, he could feel his magic surging within him, responding to his need to act. With each subtle spell, he could feel the pressure mounting, the risk of being discovered growing with every passing moment. But he couldn't stop, not when so many lives were at stake.

As Y/N moved through the chaos, helping people where he could, he lost himself in the urgency of the moment. He pulled a child out of harm's way, extinguished small fires with a flick of his wrist, and used his magic to steady a teetering scaffold that was threatening to collapse onto a group of bystanders. Every action was instinctual, his focus so intense that he didn’t even notice how close he was getting to the epicenter of the danger.

Meanwhile, Superman was engaged in a fierce battle with the villain, their clash sending shockwaves through the city. Clark’s attention was divided, trying to subdue the threat while keeping an eye on his friends below. But in the midst of the fight, he noticed Y/N inching dangerously close to the conflict.

“Y/N, get back!” Superman shouted, his voice strained with panic as he saw Y/N unwittingly step into the path of a collapsing billboard that had been dislodged during the battle.

Time seemed to slow as Clark realized he wouldn’t reach Y/N in time, especially with his opponent actively trying to block his way. His heart pounded in his chest, fear gripping him like a vice. But just as the massive billboard was about to crush him, Y/N’s instincts kicked in.

Without even thinking, Y/N threw up his hands, and a powerful force field erupted around him, deflecting the billboard away and sending it crashing harmlessly to the ground. The magic burst out of him like a tidal wave, raw and unfiltered, saving him in the nick of time.

The impact of what had just happened hit Y/N all at once. He stood there, breathless and trembling, staring at the spot where the billboard had fallen. His heart raced as he realized how close he’d come to being crushed—and how easily he had saved himself with powers.

Superman, who had seen the entire event unfold, hovered in the air, momentarily stunned. His mind raced, trying to comprehend what he had just witnessed. Y/N had powers—real, undeniable powers. And in that instant, a dozen memories from their time together in Smallville flashed through his mind, moments that suddenly made sense in a new, startling way.

The villain took advantage of Superman’s distraction, launching one final attack. But Superman, fueled by a surge of determination, quickly regained focus. With a swift, powerful strike, he knocked the villain off his feet, sending him crashing to the ground, unconscious and defeated.

The battle was over, but the tension in the air was far from dissipated.

Superman landed softly on the ground, his eyes never leaving Y/N. The adrenaline from the fight was still coursing through him, but now it was mixed with a cocktail of emotions—shock, confusion, and something deeper, something more personal.

Y/N looked up, locking eyes with Superman for the first time. The two of them stood there, surrounded by the remnants of the battle, but it felt as if the world had narrowed down to just the two of them.

“Y/N,” Superman began, his voice uncharacteristically shaky. He took a step forward, but before he could say more, Lois and Jimmy rushed over, their faces a mix of concern and relief.

Superman took a step toward Y/N, his mind racing with questions, but before he could say more, Lois and Jimmy rushed over, their faces a mix of concern and urgency.

"Superman," Lois called out, her voice edged with urgency as she glanced around. "We’re in the middle of the street. People are starting to notice."

Jimmy nodded, his camera hanging by his side as he scanned the area. “Yeah, maybe we should take this somewhere a little less… public.”

Superman blinked, realizing the gravity of the situation. There were indeed a few onlookers, phones out, capturing the aftermath of the battle. The last thing he needed was more attention, especially with Y/N’s secret now out in the open.

He turned to Y/N, his eyes filled with both concern and determination. “Y/N, we need to talk. But not here. Do you trust me?”

Y/N, still shaken from everything that had happened, hesitated for only a moment before nodding. “Yeah, I trust you.”

Superman gave him a small, reassuring smile before glancing back at Lois and Jimmy. “I’ll explain everything later, but right now, I need to get Y/N out of here.”

Lois gave a curt nod, understanding the need for discretion. “We’ll cover for you. Just… be careful.”

Jimmy shot Y/N a quick thumbs-up, though his expression was tinged with curiosity and concern. “We’ll handle the crowd. Go.”

With a final nod, Superman wrapped an arm around Y/N’s waist, holding him securely. “Hold on tight.”

Before Y/N could fully process what was happening, they were airborne, the ground falling away as Superman lifted them into the sky. The wind rushed past them as they soared above the city, the chaos of the battle below quickly becoming a distant memory.

Y/N clung to Superman, his heart racing not just from the flight but from the whirlwind of emotions and revelations that had just unfolded. He had always admired Superman from afar, but now, being so close, knowing that this was Clark—it was almost too much to take in.

They flew in silence, the cityscape sprawling out beneath them, until finally, Superman began to descend, landing gently on the rooftop of the Daily Planet building. The iconic globe loomed above them, casting long shadows in the setting sun.

Superman set Y/N down carefully, stepping back to give him space. For a moment, they just stood there, the weight of everything unsaid hanging between them.

Clark, still in his Superman suit but with the familiar warmth of his old friend in his eyes, took a step closer. “I know. It’s a lot to take in. For both of us.”

Y/N nodded, his mind racing with a thousand questions. “So, you're Superman?”

A faint blush along with his nervous smile appeared on his face, a glimpse of the boy Y/N had known. "Yeah, I guess you could say that."

A moment of silence passed before Y/N spoke again, "I really don't get how people don't catch on faster. The only visible difference is the glasses," he said, gesturing to the frames on Clark's face.

Clark looked confused for a moment, "Wait, huh? Did you know?"

"Well, not for sure. But I had my suspicions. I mean, the glasses, the timing of your disappearances, the fact that you were never around whenever Superman showed up... it wasn't exactly hard to put the pieces together. But, I didn't know until I saw you up close. Until now, whenever you were Superman, I wasn't close enough to get a good look. Then, you were right in front of me, and well, it was like, 'Oh yeah, that makes complete sense,'" Y/N admitted, rambling a little.

"Oh," was all Clark could manage, a sheepish look on his face.

"Why did you never tell me?" Y/N asked, his voice soft.

Clark sighed, his expression conflicted. "I wanted to, believe me. But it's not exactly something I can just go around telling people. And after everything that happened back in Smallville, I didn't want to put you in any more danger. I guess, we were both keeping secrets."

Y/N paused for a moment, now realizing the irony of the situation before laughing under his breath, "Sneaky little bastard strikes again."

"Huh?"

"Nothing, just a little joke to myself," Y/N explained, before pausing and looking at his friend, taking in his entire superhero appearance, "Wow, looking at you now, and thinking back to everything, everything now makes so much sense."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, you being able to stop cars without getting injured. Or people always calling your parents to ask for you when their tractor was broken down. And that time you and Suzy were playing in Old Man Ferris's field and he almost mowed her over with the shredder but you saved her and broke the shredder in the process. I always thought it was weird, but now, it's obvious," Y/N said, his tone a mixture of amusement and disbelief.

"I mean, it could've just been weak metal," Clark tried to argue, but the blush creeping up his neck betrayed his embarrassment.

"Clark, no offense, but anyone else verse that shredder would've been minced meat. And yet, one run-in with you and it had been totaled with no chance of repair. Which, did he ever get a new one?"

"Yeah, the town all chipped in to get him one while my parents got him insurance on it for a year as an apology."

"Hmm, you know for the amount of weird things that have gone on in that town between you and me alone, you'd think someone would've said something or freaked out," Y/N commented, shaking his head.

"Yeah, well, Smallville is a weird place," Clark chuckled, a hint of nostalgia in his voice.

"That it is," Y/N agreed, a fond smile tugging at his lips.

Clark cleared his throat while rubbing the back of his neck, "I guess things also make sense for you too. All those times that lights and power in school went out after you got angry, things disappearing and reappearing in random places, and that one time you got in an argument with a squirrel. Can you talk to animals with your powers?"

"Okay, first of all, we didn't have to bring that specific instance up. You remember everyone made fun of me for like a month after that happened. And either way, that squirrel had it coming," Y/N said, a slight pout on his face.

"It was a squirrel, Y/N."

"And it was a jerk!"

"How was it a jerk?"

"It kept throwing acorns at me and always running at me like it wanted to fight. I can't understand animals naturally unless there's a spell for it that I just haven't figured out, but they do seem to gravitate towards me for whatever reason. But, that squirrel had it out for me since freshman year and I was just trying to defend myself," Y/N argued, his voice taking on a slightly whiny tone.

"By arguing with it?"

"Well, yes," Y/N said, crossing his arms, "But, it was a very heated argument."

"If you say so," Clark laughed, his eyes bright with amusement.

Clark's laughter filled the air, and for a moment, it felt like they were back in Smallville, two friends joking around like they used to. But the reality of their situation quickly settled back in, and the weight of everything that had happened—everything that had been revealed—hung between them.

"So, magic," Clark said after a beat, his tone more serious. "I can't believe you were hiding that all these years."

Y/N shrugged, looking down at his feet. "It wasn't exactly something I could just go around telling people. Especially not in Smallville. I barely understood it myself, and my parents were terrified of what might happen if anyone found out. They were always worried that some government agency would swoop in and take me away if I ever slipped up."

Clark nodded, his expression thoughtful. "I get that. My parents had similar fears about me. We were both trying to protect each other, in our own way."

"Yeah," Y/N agreed quietly. He glanced up at Clark, a hesitant smile on his face. "It's kind of ironic, isn't it? Both of us with these...abilities and we never knew about each other."

Clark smiled back, but there was something in his eyes—something that made Y/N's heart skip a beat. "I wish I had known," Clark said softly. "Maybe things would have been different."

"Maybe," Y/N echoed, the word hanging in the air between them.

A comfortable silence settled over them, the kind that only old friends could share. The sun was beginning to set, casting a warm glow over the city. Y/N found himself getting lost in the moment, in the quiet presence of his friend, the tension of the past few weeks slowly ebbing away.

But then Clark spoke again, his voice filled with an emotion that Y/N couldn't quite place. "You know, I've always felt like there was something more between us. Even back then."

Y/N's breath caught in his throat. He looked at Clark, his eyes searching his friend's face for any sign that he might be joking, but all he saw was sincerity. "What do you mean?"

Clark hesitated as if trying to find the right words. "I mean... I've always cared about you, Y/N. More than just as a friend."

The confession hung in the air, and Y/N's heart pounded in his chest. He had dreamed of hearing those words for so long, but now that they were here, he didn't know how to respond. His feelings for Clark had been buried deep for years, hidden away to protect both himself and their friendship.

"Clark, I..." Y/N began, but his voice faltered. He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. "I care about you too. A lot. But this—" He gestured to the city below them, to Superman’s suit, to everything around them. "This is complicated. Our lives are so different now."

Clark stepped closer, his expression earnest. "I know it’s complicated. But maybe we can figure it out together."

Y/N looked into Clark's eyes, seeing the hope and the warmth there, and for a moment, he allowed himself to believe that maybe, just maybe, they could make this work. He thought about all the things they had been through, the secrets they had kept, the bond that had never really broken despite the years and the distance.

He smiled softly, his heart finally settling into a steady rhythm. "I'd like that," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

Clark's smile was brighter than the sunset behind him, and Y/N felt a warmth spread through him that had nothing to do with the fading sunlight. For the first time in a long while, things felt right. Complicated, yes, but right.

But before they could say anything more, the door to the rooftop burst open, and Lois and Jimmy came rushing in, both looking out of breath and a little frantic.

"Clark! Y/N!" Lois called out, her eyes wide as she took in the scene before her. "You guys okay? We’ve been looking everywhere for you."

"Yeah, we’re fine," Clark said, quickly stepping back from Y/N, though he couldn’t quite hide the smile on his face.

Jimmy glanced between the two of them, a knowing smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. "You know, you guys really should be more careful. The paparazzi would have a field day if they caught Superman having a heart-to-heart with some random guy on a rooftop."

Lois rolled her eyes but nodded in agreement. "He's right. We should get off this rooftop before someone spots us."

Clark looked at Y/N, his expression a mix of reluctance and agreement. "Yeah, you're right." He turned back to Y/N, his voice softening. "We'll talk more later, okay?"

Y/N nodded, feeling a strange mix of excitement and nervousness about what that conversation would bring. "Yeah, later."

With that, they all made their way back down to the city, where the chaos of the day had finally settled. But even as they stepped back into the world, Y/N couldn't shake the feeling that something significant had shifted between them.

And for the first time, he was ready to see where it would lead.

☀️ | Clark Kent/Superman | ☀️

☀️ | Masterlists | ☀️

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tired-teacher-blog · 6 months

Text

Characters : Tattoo artist Aizawa/ Florist fem reader

Featuring : Eri/ Hizashi Yamada/ Nemuri Kayama/ Oboro Shirakumo/ Emi Fukukado

Warnings and Genre : Fluff/ Romance/ Smut and Angst in future chapters/ Multi Chaptered Story

Summary : In a desperate attempt to get closer to the tattoo artist dominating every speck of your brain, you decide to pay him a visit one evening as a client seeking his service. This encounter will prove to be the beginning of something much bigger between you two, but will this new found passion be enough to stand against the difficulties your future holds?

Notes : Loosely inspired by this/ Art below is by the wonderful @/ael-draw who gifted me this gorgeous piece.

Masterlist|Second Masterlist|Third Masterlist

Chapter Count : Part 1 • Part 2 • Part 3 • Part 4 • Part 5 • Part 6 • Part 7 • Part 8 • Part 9 • Part 10 • Part 11

Mature content ahead so please be warned : 18+

_ "You seem.. distracted," he breathlessly utters while peering up at you from between your thighs, "aren't you enjoying this?" and the smirk following suit is an indication of his teasing, and confidence in his skilled tongue.

_ "Wha.. no, no that's not it!" truth be told, his wondrous mouth has always been enough to fog up your brain and renders you a moaning mess, and this time is no different as he has you sitting comfortably in the same chair you sat on months ago when you came for your tattoo, only this time, your skirt is hiked up around your waist and your legs are resting on his shoulders while your panties are discarded somewhere.

How scandalous.

Here you thought you'd have dinner together between his scheduled appointments, but he had something else entirely in mind.

You aren't worried about someone walking in though, since everyone else is diligently working at the moment, you are however still not over what happened a few weeks ago when he came to visit you at night, all troubled and distraught.

_ "Look at you, swallowing my fingers eagerly." his teasing words are flustering, and his long thick digits are pushing you closer to insanity. He's aware of what he's doing to you, moving them slowly in and out of your fluttering heat, and curling them right at that sweet spot he knows all too well.

His lips are peppering your shaky thighs with soft kisses as his fingers keep spreading you deliciously, and you know that you will certainly not hold out for much longer.

_ "Shouta.. yes, keep going, please." you squeeze your eyes shut and arch off the leather chair while threading your own fingers through his beautiful hair, further messing his already messy bun.

You are grateful for the blasting music outside of the booth, because everyone would hear your sinful moans otherwise.

His fingers quicken and his mouth envelops your reddened clit, sucking it hungrily and coaxing your release.

Your legs tighten around his neck and your eyes shoot open while shockwaves of pleasure rock you to the core and leave you pulsing in the aftermath of your orgasmic release.

Your throat is dry and your whole body is tingling as you strive to regain your composure, it was wonderful as usual, and for a moment there, you were actually able to forget about what's been bothering you for weeks.

_ "That was.. so good." a dumb smile is splayed across your face as your body is finally relaxed.

_ "I'm glad gorgeous," he replies with a chuckle while lowering your legs carefully, "so, did this help you relax?"

_ "What do you mean?" you're still on cloud nine and your mind is too fuzy to comprehend the meaning behind his words.

_ "No, never mind," he runs a hand through the loose strands framing his handsome face, "I just worry sometimes when you overwhelm yourself with work or other things." and for some reason, it feels as if he regrets his original statement and is trying to make light of the situation, perhaps because he's the one who's been troubled lately, and deep down he knows that it's affecting you in the worst of ways.

He means well though, obviously he does, and you know he's truly worried about you, but somehow you find his words irritating.

How can he act oblivious when he's the reason why you've been a mess lately? If anything, he actually owes you some answers.

Your smile is suddenly replaced with a frown, and you sigh out frustratedly as you carefully stand up on shaky legs and push your way past him in order to fetch your panties, "I should be the one telling you this."

He doesn't reply, and instead keeps his attention on you as he awaits an explanation.

_ "Shouta, isn't there anything you want to tell me?" you ask him calmly, eyes full of longing and a tinge of pain.

You didn't have to say anything more for him to understand your request, and you just stand there patiently waiting to hear his answer.

He walks up to you, hands shoved in his pockets and eyes looking everywhere but you, and it reminds you of the day he visited your shop for the first time, because that day too, he was shy and a bit awkward, just like he is right now.

_ "It's not a big deal I promise." he feigns a smile as he answers, but you can see right through him, whatever happened that day -a couple of weeks ago- must have been a huge deal and it is clearly still affecting him.

He can deny it all he wants, but he's been distressed lately and it tortures you to witness, and what hurts you even more is that despite it all, he is still the same loving and caring man you've always known, and that night he visited you -a few weeks ago- was the first and only time he allowed himself to be vulnerable around you.

He heaves in defeat and you watch with frightened eyes as his head hangs low and his voice comes out, but nothing could ever have prepared you for what he has to say.

_ "Eri, she's.."

Your heart sinks as you're expecting the worst, this is about Eri, but what can it be? Is she ill? Did something bad happen at school? It can't be, you see her all the time and talk to her on the phone almost daily, and she is as bright and cheerful as she's always been, so what is it then?

_ "What about Eri? Shouta tell me quick, please." you grip onto his arms tightly and shake him as your patience was wearing thin already.

_ "Her mom is back, and she wants her."

No really, nothing could ever have prepared you for what he had to say..

_ "How could she.. after all these years." you know all too well that it isn't your place to comment on the subject, this thing in particular does not concern you at all, it is a family matter that has existed way before you even came along, but for God's sake you're unable to contain your anguish.

You know what these two mean to each other, to him, Eri isn't just his daughter, she's his whole life and everything in his existence revolves around her, and to her, he's the only family she has ever known and loved. Nothing's fair about this.

_ "It will be okay, I'm sure it will be fine, yeah." and it's a weird smile he's showing, one you're not used to seeing from him.

who is he even trying to convince?

_ "But Shouta what about this is fine?"

_ "I have to believe that it is! Or else I'll go insane!" his hands are shaking and his voice is cracking now, as he's barely standing on his own two feet.

He has never been this way in front of you before and it kills you to witness.

You feel useless and hate yourself for triggering him this way, this isn't what he needs..

Oh right.. this isn't what he needs right now, not a reminder of this catastrophe but rather a reassurance, a sliver of hope, a moment to forget. It's precisely why he hasn't told you about it until you've brought it up a bit earlier.

_ "The man who took care of her all by himself for years, who raised her well and gave her all his love, who was both parents, is the same man standing right in front of me," it's all clear now and you know precisely what needs be done as you gently grasp on to his trembling hands, "you know what? It will be fine, Eri belongs with you and no power can change it, and I truly believe that."

He's speechless listening to you speak, lips parted and expression finally relaxing, this is indeed what he's been looking for, just a little peace of mind.

He pulls you to his chest and engulfs you tightly, so tightly in fact that you're left breathless in his strong arms.

His shoulders shake and a stream of hot liquid falls from his face to wet your own as he finally bares his all, and you stand there like a pillar for him to lean on, listening as he breaks down in your embrace.

To be continued..

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hongjoongscafe · 1 year

Text

Bloody Love...

Chapter: II -Redolent-

♠︎Pairing: yandere!king!jungkookxoc(coronis)

♠︎Genre: angst, smut, yandere, gore, dark romance, horror, creepy (dark fantasy).

♠︎Summary: "you happen to be in a world where wrong is right and right is wrong."

♠︎Word count: 3.6k+

♠︎Warning: creeping, nudity, non-consensual nudity, murder, sniffing, clothes sniffing.

♠︎Note: lemme know if you wanna be added to the permanent or specific taglist! The pictures are not mine, I just edited them.

♠︎Disclaimer: I do not condone any sick behaviour. This is just fiction and please keep it that way. If someone is following you or you feel creepy vibes from someone, please ask for help. Again. This is fiction and does not literally relate to anyone who is mentioned in this. Thank you.

♠︎Masterpost

♠︎Serieslist

Castle… The place where commoners were afraid to go. It was not a path to hell… It was hell. The things that happened within the walls of the castle stayed there. Because no one ever came out alive from that place.

Everyone knew there were darker mysteries hidden inside that hell. The darkest being the king. Some say that he has the eyes of an Eagle. He would know who is going to be the prey when he sees one. And never forgets.

His Majesty was remorseless. His words were limited yet venomous. They created chaos. They held power more than God itself. Some say that he doesn't even spare his own family.

Does he have one? No one knows.

He was mentioned in great legends, saying that he had the grandeur of a devil. It was mentioned that no one was born as handsome as he was. His body was as if made of rocks… Just like his heart.

What a waste of beauty.

The decrees of the realm stated that no outsiders, or commoners, were allowed to see him or know his name. The only thing that was revealed was ‘Jeon’.

Not a soul has ever seen him other than those bureaucrats, who were no different than him, but still, his fear was huge among humankind.

He was a ravening monster that plagued his realm and beyond.

There are seven sins: pride, greed, lust, envy, gluttony, wrath, and indolence. He was high of pride, greedy of souls, lustful of bodies, envious of love, gluttonous of blood, wrathful against peace, and indolence after seeing the world fall apart.

“Jimin- ah,” a thick voice rang through the spacious room.

“Yes, your Majesty,” the guard in his room quickly replied.

“I want this sweet, feminine redolent forever alive. If this could come near me and stay here in my arms, I would never let it go,” he took a deep sniff from the white nightgown. He was laying on his bed, bare body covered with the clothes he stole a couple of days ago. He couldn't get them away from him.

“Your Highness, I'm sure you will have it,” the shorter male who was looking outside the window from the door said.

“Mm,” the king moaned as he rubbed his hard-on with he-like underwear. It was a white cloth in the shape of underwear and had strings to tie them around the waist. “I have never seen beauty so bright,” he closed his eyes and saw her naked, and vulnerable while taking a bath. How her body was shining through. He envied the water that got to touch her in the places, he wished, no one has ever touched apart from her. “Her long black locks were so silky. My hands wanna thread through them and pull them,” he hummed and brought her chemise to his nose. He sniffed where her perky breasts had touched.

He brought the underwear to his face, “look at that, she must be a little whore. Good for me,” said he. “Good for me. Just as long as no one else has used her,” he sighed. “If someone did, you know what is going to happen… Don't you?” he slowly asked Jimin as he looked at him at the door, holding his Halbred tightly in his hand.

Jimin gulped and nodded. “Very well, your Majesty.”

“Hm, now get my horse ready, I want to head out tonight and… See a beautiful flower. Also, summon Maria, too. Tell her that I want her mouth immediately,” he closed his eyes yet again and brought her underwear to his nose and used his hand to give himself some pleasure.

…

It was evening when His Majesty left the castle and rode towards the village where he last left his heart. He was dressed just like before. His eyes shone in the dark. He had two of his main guards with him. One being Jimin and the other being Mingyu. All hidden behind the black cloaks and masks. Heave jewellery decorating the sins they committed.

The Lord was aware of the time. He knew by the time he would reach there, everyone would have hit the sack. They all had to wake up early to work for the day and get the material ready for the horsemen who would come from the castle and take the material for the day. Their jobs were harder.

The clops of the horses neared the village. And by the time they reached, the whole village was shushed. The fire in the shacks was blown off. The three of them rested there and observed the village.

His Highness took a box out of his leather carrier and a letter. He smirked and got down from the horse and the other two followed. They hid their horses just outside the village and marched towards her house. The guards lit their Mashal and he took his lantern with him.

The walk to the shack was not as long. Jimin and Mingy were commanded to stay alert and away from the shack.

After he was left alone, he moved towards the back where, he figured, was the slot of his princess. Taking careful steps, he stood in front of the window from where he could see the beauty herself sleeping. His heartbeat soothed. A new feeling flowered around him, making him inch closer to her.

He looked and looked and looked at her. The itch in his hands worsened and begged him to feel you on his fingers. So he does so. He looked around to figure out how he could go inside. There his eyes caught another window which was open for fresh air to go inside. He made a silent work to hop inside the slot.

His feet took him closer to her. He kneeled and sat beside her. Her face looked peaceful under the light of the lantern. Her long-lashed kissed her cheeks. Her lips were slightly ajar. Her nightgown was loose, showing her shoulder. He brought his face to her neck and inhaled her essence deeply. He shuddered and moaned.

“Fuck,” he sniffed her again. “You are so fucking addicting. Soon I'll take you, hm? We will be together forever. I'll give you all the pleasure in the world, Princess,” he mumbled. “No one will even dare to think about taking you away.”

As much as he wanted to touch her, he didn't. He kept his hands tied and just sniffed her scent. He looked at her. Her body looked so vulnerable. Slowly, he removed the thin sheet from her. His dick twitched in his clothes as he saw her gown ridden up, showing a peak of her clothed pussy. His breath sharpened. His wicked mind made him scrunch up the gown just enough for him to see her. The strings of her underwear came undone not even a breath apart. Sneakily, he removed the front flap and saw her bare under his eyes.

His cock kept twitching, and bringing his hand to it, he rubbed himself through the clothes. A sigh of relief escaped from him. She was right there, bare for him. Her hairy pussy looked inviting. But he shook his head and carefully removed her underwear and stuffed it inside his sack and covered her back with the sheet.

Out of nowhere, a crow started cawing by the window. Its cawing was loud and was getting louder and louder. The crow fluttered its wings around.

Hearing the crow, she started moving around, making his heart thump in his chest. He quickly left the box and the letter next to her and got up. After giving a last glance, he left.

“I'll be back for you tomorrow, my Princess.”

…

“Coronis! Coronis! Wake up!” Circe shook Coronis. “Mother had asked for you.”

“What happened?” she sleepily mumbled.

“Something,” said Circe in a hurry.

“Okay, I'll be there in a minute,” Coronis stretched.

Circe went out of the slot and closed the door behind her. Coronis sat up and stretched her neck and looked around. Her eyes fell on a time box next to her head towel. She opened it and saw a necklace that had a tiny bone as a locket. She had seen many animal bones but this was a lot different. Maybe it was a bone from an animal she hasn't seen bones of.

Then she saw a letter laying there too. The paper was not just any ordinary paper, it was a high-quality paper that was sent to the castle. Her hands started shaking as she unfolded it. There were the words written in beautiful handwriting, and at the end, there were some dark red drops which she figured must be blood.

Her heartbeat increased and started sweating. Her shaky eyes read the letter–

“My dear, If you haven't fogged my mind with your face and lustrous body, then what have? It's been a couple of days since I have been thinking about your beauty like a little boy. My mind goes crazy. Your piquant scent lingers in my nose and makes me want to sniff you forever.

I want you to stick to me. I would never let you go or let anyone hurt you. No one gets to fondle that beauty other than me. You are mine so make sure to not let any single soul touch you unless you want to see more people hanging.

I have brought you a little present. I expect you to wear it. It's not an offer but a command. You know better what happens when someone doesn't listen to me, don't you?

Now, my Princess, I'll end it here so that you can do your job like an obedient little girl.

Your dearest♡.”

The tears threatened out of her eyes. She started hyperventilating. The terror ran through her veins. “No no no,” she mumbled. “This can not happen.”

“Coronis!” She heard her mother calling. Clearing her throat, she wiped her tears and shoved the box and the letterunder her sheet.

“What?” She asked.

“Draco and I are going to the gathering. The message was circulated early this morning. So, we both have to go. The guards will be here soon. The buckets of milk are by the entrance, and the supply of eggs and bread is also there,” Martha informed. The lady stepped closer to Coronis. “And last, you need to bring yeast and dry fruits from Nori’s.”

Coronis kept frowning but nodded. Her heart was still racing and now had no will to face the guards. “Okay.”

Before leaving the shack, Martha turned around, “take Circe with you and be careful.”

Coronis stared at the now closed door. Thoughts were running wild in her mind. There was some deep shit that she had gotten herself into without even knowing.

“Coronis, you should get ready,” Circe said as she sat down and took her slate to study some basics.

Coronis nodded and went into her slot. She moved slowly towards her sheet and took the box and the letter. She took the necklace out and fastened it around her neck with her eyes tearing up. Looking at the letter, she brought it to her nose and sniffed it. It had a scent of woodsy and musky notes. It was unique, something she had never sniffed. The redolent stuck to her nose. It was pleasant and made her want to sniff it again but her fear made her tremble and hide the letter in her trunk of clothes along with the box.

She then quickly removed her clothes to change but her breath hitched at a realisation and whispered to herself as tears dripped down her cheeks again, “He did not…”

…

The clops of the horses echoed through the village. The trembles in everyone's heart rose. The paths started to get cleared for the guards to match through. Kids were shoved back into their shacks.

Sighing, Coronis stood up and started taking the big buckets of milk out along with eggs and bread. The demand for her bread was supplied to the king. He always loved it. And every day, a huge amount of bread was supplied to him. He had one rule, what he used, nobody gets to use. If the bread for him was supplied by her, the rest of the castle and commoners would get it from other bakers. Not from her.

She sat outside by the steps, waiting for the guard to come and take the goods away. She looked pretty today. Her hair was down. The black gown she wore was beautiful. The full sleeves were puffy and the neck was high, covering her beautiful collarbone and neck. The reason why she wore it was because of the necklace.

She adored the colour black.

While waiting, her mind ran back to the letter and the necklace. The paper, and the redolent, both were highly graded. The bone necklace was expensive.

They wore jewellery, but it was cheaper. The chain wasn't made of metal, it was made out of black thread and had cheap silver or iron as a locket. But the one she got, the chain was of rose gold and the bone was held with gold.

Someone from the castle is creeping upon her. He is probably the one who took her clothes too after seeing her taking a bath.

Neigh of a horse pulled her out of her mind. She looked up and saw a patrol man getting off. There were two divisions; a guard and a patrolman. Patrolman wasn't the one who usually took the supplies. But he had the carriage that came for her supplies every day. So she stood up and got to work.

She didn't look up at the man but started loading the carriage with buckets of milk and other things. She went back and forth. The man kept following her movements.

After she was done, she tied up everything with a rope so nothing would break or spill. Then she took out her tiny pouch and opened it and forwarded it towards him. She flinched when she felt a warm hand touching hers. Now she looked up at the man, into his eyes. Her mouth fell open after seeing those eyes. They were the same ones she had seen when that old man was beheaded.

Coronis could never forget those eyes. The dark, vicious eyes.

The man put coins in her pouch and kept on holding her cold hands in his warm ones. They glanced into each other's eyes. He brought his hand up to her head and caressed her head.

He felt her soft hair and threaded his hands through them. Slowly, he snaked his hand down to her face and caressed her cheek. He saw how her face started to turn red. She shook in fear.

His thumb gently traced her lower lip and pulled it down. Then he traced her upper lip. It all felt too intimate. He loved the feeling of her against his hands. He wanted to take her then and there.

Coronis's breath hitched when she got the whiff of the hands of the man. They reeked of that woody and musky redolent. Her breath started shortening.

He looked down at her neck and patted it as if he was trying to find something. Then he shoved his hand down her neckline and pulled out the necklace and adored it. She saw him smiling under the mask. His eyes became small as he smiled and felt the bone against his fingers.

He looked up at her, “Never remove it,” her mouth fell ajar at his thick raspy voice.

But she shakily nodded. And pulled the locket and shoved it back into her dress.

His eyes then focused behind her, and she followed his gaze and fell on her little sister who was standing there, terrified.

Coronis got in front of his gaze so that he could not see her sister. She gulped and looked down. He grabbed her chin softly and made her look into his eyes. He looked at her, took all the details of her face and removed his hand from her face and locked the door of the carriage. Getting on his horse, he set one last glance before heading back.

She let out a heavy sigh, finally breathing properly. Now she knew who was the creep that invaded her privacy.

“Circe, go get ready, we gotta go and get the goods Mother asked us for.”

…

The market was, as always, tight. People were fighting for the material. Some were bargaining with the vendors to relieve some prices.

Coronis held Circe's hand tightly to not lose her anywhere. She didn't want to bring her but her staying at the shack, alone, would have been nerve-racking. “Do not leave my side, alright?” Coronis said.

“I won't,” the little girl nodded and grabbed her sister's hand tighter.

A knife was secured with the older one just in case. The open market was far more dangerous than it seemed. Predators roamed around, trying to find their prey in the open. The worst part was that no one ever helped anyone out of it. If someone is dying, they are dying. There is no other way unless they are brought to the physician. But that was mainly done by the family.

They both stopped by the Ji-un’s to buy some yeast. And then walked towards Nori.

Nori was a sweet girl. Coronis was fond of her. She was sweet-spoken and on certain occasions, she took care of Circe as her own sister. It had been a good while since she last met her.

Coronis and Nori both started chit-chatting about things. The dry fruits were looking nice. She was ordered to make some dry fruit cake. So she selected good quality dry fruits and started looking for other things for her baked goods.

Baking was something Coronis loved. She found her escape in it. Every single day, she would tie her hair up and put on her black apron. Her recipes were always secret, even from her own mother. She always said that if you love doing something and put love into it, there is no way that the goods won't turn good even if they are for the devil himself. She was gifted in baking.

Her melodious voice would tingle through the shack while she baked and mixed the ingredients together to make another scrumptious food. It was her h—

“Coronis!” a scream made Coronis's blood drain from the face. She looked around but Circe was gone.

“Coronis!” she ran towards the sound, dropping everything at Noris.

“Circe!” she called. “Where are you?!”

“Coronis!” the little girl screamed again.

There were people gathering in one place. Coronis went there and saw a patrolman holding Circe in a headlock. “Circe!” She ran towards her sister but other guards held her back. “No! Not her! Punish me! Not her!” Coronis begs, her tears running down her cheeks.

“Shut up!” the man yelled and held Circe tighter. “Do you not know what happens to those who come in our way?!”

“Please, I beg your mercy!” Coronis kneeled down and rubbed her hands together. “She is a child. She doesn't know much. Please, let her go! Take me instead! Kill me, not her!”

“You should have thought about it before, lady,” the patrolman pulled out his longsword and raised it high up in the sky, ready to take Circe away from Coronis.

Coronis begged and begged. She closed her eyes but never stopped begging for mercy. After a few, a sound of a sword separating a head came. The whole village was silenced. Only Coronis's cries were heard, still begging for Circe's life.

“Coronis!” She felt a tiny human latching onto her. She opened her eyes and saw Circe hugging her and crying like no end.

She looked around and glanced at the man who was holding Circe was not beheaded. Her eyes fell on the man who was standing near it with a bare sword drenched in blood.

Those eyes. It was him.

Coronis crawled to him and bowed down to him. “Master! Thank you for sparing her life!” Coronis cried hysterically. She kept on crying and said good words to him. Circe, too, bowed and thanked him for letting her go.

From far away, he looked at what was happening. He heard a little girl screaming for some Coronis. He would have not interfered but he saw his Princess running and crying towards the little girl that his man was holding. He could not bear to see her cry and beg such a low life for having mercy on a little girl.

He turned his horse towards them and saw that the little girl was at her shack. Coronis was rubbing her hands, begging but he was ready to take a life that could possibly ruin Coronis's life. That boiled his blood and made him see red.

He moved behind that man and worked his sword once and the head of the fucker was gone. His breath swelled. He got down from his horse and saw the sisters crying.

When Coronis crawled and thanked him for sparing Circe's life. He wanted to cry and take her in his arms and make her feel better but he knew better than to do this.

He patted both of their heads and got on his horse and rode away and two others followed him.

Coronis hugged Circe closer and stood by looking at the man who was going away and away. He was wicked and cracked. But saved her life's life. She could never thank him enough for this… even though he did unforgivable things to her last night without her knowledge. Her sister still stood higher and far more important than her dignity.

“Circe, never make me this weak, for my sake.”

…..

Sanaa's note:

I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter. Let me know your thoughts! Your words really help me a lot and motivate me to write more frequently! The feedback from chapter one made me write this one faster. Thank you so much! I hope you guys will keep on interacting and won't be silent! 💓

The behaviour of all the characters is visualize.

Taglist:

@veneziamadness @cheline @sansmilkbread @jayb17 @constantlydelulusional @8tinytings @tea4sykes; @darkuni63 @mageprincess7 @whipwhoops @ackercute @ane102 @kimseokjinsmirror1233 @sparklingglory @jungkooks21 @namjoonscrabjuice @yluv-damara-13

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dwobbitfromtheshire · 5 months

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From Hell to Home to Back Again

Summary: At the talent show, Chrissy Cunningham is so hungry that she nearly collapses. When she's found by Hopper, her parents ended up losing custody of her. She ends up being placed in the care of the Hendersons, and she finally finds the family she so desperately needed. She also ends up falling in love. What other changes are made in this alternate universe?

@emen-98 @1lostsoul0fishbowl @vulpixsworld

Prologue . . . Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

There wasn't much they could do after that, especially when Claudia came home. Robin had panicked and lied, saying that they heard about Mews, that they wanted to help. She was so touched by that that she made them all hot chocolate. That was basically her answer to everything. . .hot chocolate with a sprinkling of cinnamon. Sometimes, it did help. They all gathered in Chrissy's bedroom to discuss their options after eating dinner and watching TV with an upset Claudia. She ended up going to bed early after she made them hot chocolate. Chrissy watched one by one as everyone filtered into her room and touched Wilbur's snout.

"Hey, Wilbur, you want some hot chocolate?" Eddie asked.

"No! Eddie! He's allergic to cinnamon!" Chrissy exclaimed.

"Oh, shit, that's right. Sorry, man, I forgot," Eddie said and squinted his eyes at him. "Or did you make me forget?"

"It's a little porcelain figurine, Munson," Steve scoffed. "It can't do anything."

"It's Wilbur!" Everyone else exclaimed.

"Wilbur can do anything he wants to," Eddie said.

"I believe in you, Wilbur," Chrissy cooed. "Steve, apologize to Wilbur."

"Seriously?" Steve asked.

"Steve! It's bad luck to be mean to Wilbur. Trust me, I was mean him, and then I had a really terrible day," Dustin said.

"You had a terrible day because you hid a feral raccoon in your room," Chrissy said. "And it messed all over the place."

"Okay, fine! Wilbur, I'm sorry for being mean to you. Of course, you can do anything," Steve said as he talked to the pig.

"I can't believe you just did that. You looked so stupid," Chrissy giggled.

"Oh, you're hilarious," Steve said and hit her with one of her pillows.

They threw pillows and blankets onto the floor of her room before sitting down with their hot chocolate. It was quiet between them all as they drank and looked at the floor thoughtfully.

"We have to find him," Dustin said.

"How?" Eddie asked.

"Well, Chrissy's powers, of course," Dustin said. "El used hers to find Will, Chrissy, and Barb in the Upside Down. She was low on juice, so we had to use a sensory deprivation tank, a homemade one. I don't think we're going to need that. Something to cover her eyes, silence, and static from the radio."

"Well, what if my powers aren't exactly like El's?" Chrissy asked.

"We'll cross that bridge when we get to it," Dustin replied.

Chrissy hummed as she sipped her hot chocolate and leaned against Eddie. She rubbed her hand over his knee before playing with a piece of black thread. After they all finished their hot chocolate, Chrissy sat crossed legged in the middle of the room. Eddie knelt beside her and tied his bandana around her head, his fingers brushing against the back of her neck. Eddie leaned over her and gave her a soft kiss before pulling back.

"You've got this," Eddie said. "Witch."

"Freak," Chrissy grinned.

They turned the radio to an empty station, and Chrissy let the sound wash over her as everyone in the room kept quiet. For a moment, nothing happened, and then Chrissy was in what they called the void. There was nothing around her but darkness and water beneath her feet. She thought about Dart, and for a moment, she had seen him, tunneling his way underneath Hawkins. But then she lost him.

"Chrissy. . ."

That was the voice from her nightmares, who always called out to her from the darkness. How was he calling out to her here?

"Chrissy, this doesn't involve you, not yet. I'm not ready for you," the man's voice said. "When I am, you will be mine. We'll see each other soon."

Suddenly, it was like someone had pushed her out, and she was falling. Chrissy gasped as she fell backward into someone's arms. Someone yanked off the bandana and pressed it to her bleeding nose.

"Well?" Dustin asked.

"I couldn't find him. I tried to. . .but it was like someone was pushing me out of the void," Chrissy said. "I don't - there was a voice. . ."

Eddie wrapped his arms around his shaking girlfriend, pressing his cheek against the top of her head.

"Okay, well, does anyone else have any other plans?" Eddie asked.

They had spent most of the night trying to come up with a plan to find Dart. It wasn't the best plan, but it was the only thing they could think of. The next day, the group bought buckets of bloody meat and drove to the train tracks, leading to the junkyard. They would drop trails of bloody meat on the tracks, hoping Dart would follow them all the way to the junkyard where they would be waiting for him. It was where they were now, and after finally getting in contact with Lucas, he would be meeting them there.

"Oh, this is so disgusting. I don't want to do this. I'm leaving," Robin grimaced.

"Well, I suppose we could let Dart attack the town," Eddie said.

"Ugh, fine," Robin sighed.

"So, let me get this straight. You kept something potentially dangerous in order to impress a girl whom you just met?" Steve asked Dustin in disbelief.

"Dustin!" Chrissy exclaimed.

"That isn't how you impress a girl, man," Eddie said.

"How'd you impress Chrissy?" Dustin asked.

"Man, after all this time, I still don't know. Sheer dumb luck?" Eddie asked, and Chrissy giggled. "All I know is that is definitely not the way to go."

"Anyway! That's grossly oversimplyfing things, Steve," Dustin said.

"Why would a girl like a slug anyway?" Steve asked.

"Hey, girls could like slugs if they wanted to. I mean, this girl doesn't, but other girls, sure," Robin said. "Don't be sexist, Steven."

"Yeah, Steve, don't be sexist," Dustin grinned. "Besides, it's an interdimensional slug. It's awesome."

"Well, even if she thought it was cool, which she didn't, I just. . .I just think you're trying too hard," Steve said.

"Well, not everyone can have your perfect hair, alright?" Dustin said.

"It's not about the hair, man," Steve said.

"I don't know, man, that hair is pretty magnetic," Eddie said teasingly.

"Shut up, Munson," Steve replied, smirking and turning to Dustin with a sigh. "A year ago, I probably would have some stupid shit about how with girls you have to pretend like you don't care. That's clearly not the way to go. I think there needs to be a balance. You don't want to lay all your cards on the table, but give her a little something that's not going to scare her away and then slowly reveal everything over time."

"Then what?" Dustin asked.

"Then you wait until you feel it," Steve said.

"Feel what?" He asked.

"It's like before it's going to storm, you can feel it, like this electricity," Steve said.

"Oh, like in the electromagnetic field when the clouds in the atmosphere - "

"No. . .no. . .no, like sexual electricity," he said.

"Oh."

"You feel that, and then you make your move," Steve said.

"That's when you kiss her?" Dustin asked.

"Woah, woah! Slow down, Romeo!" Steve exclaimed. "Sure, some girls want you to be aggressive, you know, strong, hot and heavy like. . . Like a . . ."

"Like a lion?"

"Yeah," Steve said. "But others, you know, you got to be slow and stealthy like a ninja."

"What type of girl is Nancy?" Dustin asked.

"Nancy's different. She's different than the other girls," Steve said.

"Yeah, she seems pretty special," Dustin said.

"Yeah," Steve agreed.

"But this girl is special too. . .there's something about her," Dustin said.

"Are you falling for her?" Steve asked.

"I don't know," Dustin shrugged.

"Hey, don't try to grow up too fast, alright? You've got plenty of time for that later," Steve said.

"In our line of work?" Dustin asked.

"Hey, we're going to be just fine, butthead," Steve said and knocked the hat down over his eyes.

Chrissy smiled at both of them, and for a moment, she was tempted to steal Steve away from Nancy with Eddie. In another life, she could see Steve and Eddie together. Maybe she would have been with Nancy or Heather. In another life, though, in someone else's story. She could have ended up with Steve, too, if their parents hadn't tried to force them together. Chrissy smiled at Eddie, looking at Steve and Dustin ever so softly. No, this was who she was supposed to be with in this life, and she didn't doubt that Eddie knew that too. He looked over at her, and his grin widened. She leaned against him, pressing her cheek against his shoulder. Eddie kissed her forehead.

"I fucking miss Ronnie," Robin sighed. "On the other hand, I'm glad she's not here."

"Yeah, me too," Eddie said.

After Steve revealed his hair care secrets to everyone, they made it to the junkyard. Lucas made it just a minute later with a redheaded girl in tow.

"I said medium well!" Lucas exclaimed.

"The bloodier, the better!" Chrissy exclaimed.

"Who's that?" Steve asked.

"That's Max Mayfield, the girl I was telling you about," Dustin said.

"I think that's Hargrove's stepsister, I saw her get into his car," Robin said.

"Shit," Eddie said.

"You told her?" Dustin asked.

"You told Eddie?" Lucas asked.

"Chrissy told Eddie!" Dustin yelled.

"Chrissy told Eddie because someone kept a goddamn baby demogorgon in his room!" Eddie exclaimed.

"Let's just get to work!" Steve exclaimed.

As the others began to secure the bus to hide in, Dustin and Lucas hid behind a car to hide in. Eddie and Chrissy watched in amusement as Steve scolded them before stomping back over to the others.

"The kids misbehaving, Mama?" Eddie asked.

"Don't call me that," Steve scowled.

"It's tough," Chrissy said.

"Tell me about it," Steve sighed, rolling his eyes at Eddie.

"I gave my mom problems too when she first adopted me," Chrissy grinned, and Eddie laughed.

"Oh, not you too," Steve sighed.

"Sounds like Mama needs a nap," Robin said, popping her head out of the bus and looking down at them.

"Okay, what about me makes you think I'm a mom?" Steve asked as he put his hands on hips.

"Hmm, it might be your child bearing hips," Eddie winked.

"Or your stance," Chrissy giggled.

"The yellow dish gloves don't help either," Eddie said.

"It's just your entire aura," Robin said. "It just screams mommy material."

"Or it could be because Dustin has now imprinted on you like a baby duck," Chrissy laughed.

"You guys are hilarious," Steve sighed loudly.

"I think they are," Max laughed.

"Max, right?" Chrissy asked.

"Yeah," Max said. "Chrissy, right? You're Dustin's sister."

"Yeah," Chrissy said. "Sorry, Lucas got you involved in all of this. He really shouldn't have."

"I'm not even sure I really believe him," Max sighed.

"It is the kind of thing you have to see to believe," Eddie said. "Eddie Munson, by the way."

Max stared at him and then at the pins on his vest. She stared at him doubtfully for a moment, and it took Chrissy a minute to realize what Max might have been thinking.

"He's nothing like your dickhead stepbrother," Chrissy said and paused. "If that's what you were thinking. I know that doesn't really mean anything because you don't know us, but you'll pick that up as you go. He's an asshole for sure, but he's got heart, and he looks out for people."

"Right," Max said softly, but she still looked unsure.

"I'm going to prove it to you, Mayfield," Eddie said, flashing his dimples at her. "I'm nothing more than Chrissy's cuddly Eddie bear who happens to be deathly afraid of spiders."

He shuddered, and the corner of Max's mouth turned up slightly. She shoved her sleeves up and picked up the metal sheet. Chrissy's eyes fell on a bruise that was on her wrist. It was as though someone had held on tightly. Chrissy would know. She had been given enough of those from her birth mother to recognize that bruise on Max's arm.

"Did Billy do that?" Chrissy asked without thinking.

Max huffed, yanked her sleeve down, and stormed into the bus. Chrissy sighed and closed her eyes. Of course, he did, and of course Max wouldn't want to answer.

"I'm going to fucking kill him, Chrissy. That's it, I'm going to jail for murder," Eddie said.

"Oh, baby, let's just focus on the task at hand," Chrissy said with a sigh and rubbed his shoulder. "We'll do everything we can to help her out later."

Once they reinforced the bus and dumped the meat, they climbed aboard to wait. Her brother was staring moodily at Max and Lucas, who seemed pretty close now. Chrissy looked at her brother in sympathy and caught his eye.

"Focus," Chrissy mouthed. "Breathe."

Dustin nodded and started doing his breathing exercises before sitting down next to Steve. Eddie smirked and caught Steve’s eye with a wave of his hand.

"Mama," Eddie mouthed and acted like he was cradling a baby.

Steve flipped him off, and Eddie cackled before cupping his hands under his chin as though he was begging for it. Steve smiled and shook his head, flipping his lighter.

"So, you really fought one of these things before?" Max asked. "And you're totally sure it wasn't a bear?"

"Shit, don't be an idiot. It wasn't a bear," Lucas said.

"Why are you even here if you don't believe us?" Dustin snapped. "Just go home."

"Dusty! That was rude!" Chrissy scolded.

"Geesh, someone's cranky," Max said. "Past your bedtime?"

Lucas and Max moved to the top of the bus to watch from above. It worried Chrissy to no end, and every so often, she looked at the roof to keep an eye on them. They weren't that far away, and everything was so quiet that it wasn't hard to hear what she was saying to Lucas. Her parents got divorced, and her when her mom married her stepdad, they wanted a fresh start away from her dad. Billy hadn't been too happy about his new family, but he couldn't take it out on Max's mom, so she became his target for his anger.

"I know I can be a jerk like him sometimes, but I don't want to be like him. Ever," Max said. "I guess I'm angry, too. . ."

It broke Chrissy's heart that this girl thought that because she was angry that she was anything like her abusive older stepbrother. Dustin's shoulder slumped, and he looked guilty now. Judging by the looks that Robin, Steve, and Eddie were sharing, they were planning something nefarious for Billy. Chrissy had never seen them look so dark before. Eddie was about to open his mouth to say something when they heard a loud growling sound from outside.

"Lucas, what's going on?" Dustin asked.

"Hold on!" Lucas exclaimed. "I've got eyes on him! Ten o'clock!"

They watched a shadowy figure move through the fog. It was hard to tell. It could have been anything, but Chrissy knew that it wasn't. She could feel it. The demogorgon wasn't taking the bait. The kids were now back in the bus and watching from the windows. Steve stepped outside of the bus.

"Steve!" Robin hissed.

"Stay on the bus," he told her. "And get ready."

"Steve!" Chrissy exclaimed.

"What's he doing?" Max asked.

"Expanding the menu," Eddie said.

"Come on, buddy," Steve said as he twirled the bat. "Come on, dinner time. Human tastes better than cat."

"He's crazy," Max said.

"He's awesome," Dustin said.

Chrissy moved to get closer to the door when Eddie stopped her.

"Woah, what are you doing?" Eddie asked.

"Helping Steve," she said.

"What the fuck?" Eddie hissed. "Baby, no!"

"I'm not going to let him face that thing out there alone when I have the power to help him," Chrissy said. "Eddie, I'll be fine. You and Robin stay with the kids."

Chrissy kissed him deeply and released herself from his grasp. She left the bus and stood beside Steve. He didn't look surprised to see her. He knew her too well. Suddenly, though, it wasn't just Dart, or maybe Dart wasn't there at all. Either way, Steve and Chrissy were surrounded by demogorgons. It felt strange not having the comfort of Will there or not being able to sense him since she unlocked her powers again. This time, she wasn't waiting around for people to rescue her. This time, she was on the outside. She flung her hand out and sent one of the demogorgons back, blood gushing from her nose as she used her power. While she was focused on one, Steve was focused on the other. They worked, back to back, to fight the monsters off. It was going to take everything she had to kill these fucking things. Chrissy was already growing weaker. Suddenly, Steve was grabbing her arm and pushing her onto the bus. There were just too many of them. They managed to slip inside and close the door behind them. Of course, someone forgot to close the hatch. A demogorgon peered through the hatch down at Max, and she screamed. Steve pushed her behind him and into Robin's arms, wielding the bat like a sword.

"You want some? Come get this!" Steve yelled furiously, shaking the bat at the creature.

Suddenly, the demogorgon picked up its head and took off with the others.

"What happened? Did Steve scare it off?" Lucas asked.

"No way," Steve scoffed.

"No, they're going somewhere else," Chrissy said.

The place they were going turned out to be Hawkins' Lab. They followed the tracks to the lab, and they burst through the trees quite suddenly, startling the others waiting near the entrance. Nancy, Jonathan, and Argyle jumped at the sight of them.

"Nancy?!" Robin exclaimed. "You scared the shit out of me! You disappeared and then shit hit the fucking fan! Don't you ever do that again!"

Robin breathed a sigh of relief and hugged her tightly. The two sisters refused to let each other go as Nancy apologized profusely.

"What's Eddie doing here?" Jonathan asked.

"Good to see you too, Byers," Eddie said sarcastically.

"No, seriously," he said.

"Long story short, Dustin tried to keep a baby demogorgon as a pet, and I saw it eat Mews," Eddie replied.

"Oh, man, that's crazy," Argyle said. "Poor Mews."

Chrissy moved towards the gate. She could feel Will's presence now, but it felt faint as though it was clouded by something. They needed to get in there, but the power was down. Suddenly, she felt another presence now at the back of her mind.

"You interfered enough now, Christine. Sleep."

And sleep she did.

Chapter Twenty-One

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undyingmedium · 4 months

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RP BLOG CONTENT GUIDELINES Bold all that apply to you and your blog. Italics if you’re on the fence about something.

MY BLOG IS _______

open to all - semi-selective - selective - moderately selective - highly selective - exclusive - only going to rp with mutuals - mostly going to rp with mutuals - indie - affiliated with a group - spoiler free -spoilers tagged - spoilers mostly tagged - not spoiler free

I WILL RP WITH ______

any fandom - most fandoms - only fandoms I know - only people in my fandom - ocs - ocs with no fandom ties - ocs who are related to/know my character in their backstory - only one version of any particular character - people who have the same muse as me - people who do not have a rules page - multimuse blogs - people in rp groups - indie rpers

I WILL SHIP WITH _______

no one - anyone - chemistry - select ship - ocs - others of my own muse - crossovers with characters from different fandoms - only one version of a particular character - one person in my main certain verses - multiship - one main/canon ship within my main verse

MY BLOG WILL CONTAIN ______ IN ITS CONTENT

fluff - angst - gore - violence - smut - blood - torture - shipping - death - dark humor - assault

I WILL FOLLOW ______ BACK

everyone - only some people - most people - only people in my fandom - every rp blog - people i actively wish to rp with - people who do not post a lot of ooc - people whose posts i am comfortable with on my dashboard

TO RP WITH ME, YOU SHOULD _______

follow back - answer an open - message me ooc - message me ic - make a starter - answer my starter - send in a meme - like a starter call

OTHER

i practice reblog karma with memes - i expect reblog karma with memes - i expect my rules/about to be read - i always read the rules/about before following/interacting (but I'm very forgetful so I do my best) - if you follow me, i would like nsfw tagged - i expect all smut to be beneath a read-more (or have a mature rating ) - i am a multiverse blog -i am multi-muse - i do not wish for my ooc posts to be reblogged - i do not wish for my threads to be reblogged by those not involved - i expect post length to be matched - i expect icons/gifs to be used in a reply if i have used them - i don’t expect post length to be matched, but I will try to match yours - i am patient when waiting for replies and expect the same courtesy

Stolen from: @hauntedreality

Tagging: @steel-and-fire @witches-and-weirdos @windwithinmyveins @never-surrender @deaddoveadventures @aquatic-hybrid and whoever else wants to do it!

#ooc #dash game #tag game #blog info #i really needed a break from work #curse my being slow #sorry for everyone waiting for replies but i'm buried alive under snow and ice

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tangledfate · 6 months

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GET TO KNOW THE MUN !

🕷 || NAME?: Friday

🕷 || PRONOUNS?: she/they

🕷 || MOST ACTIVE MUSE(S)?: Angel Dust and Sallie May are currently fighting over the wheel while Stella, Lucifer and Husk are panicking in the back seat and everyone else is in the trunk.

🕷 || RP PET PEEVES?: Besides the obvious of godmodding/powerplay/underwriting? Probably not giving me enough to work with for replying. I don't need you to match my length but give me more than a sentence or two. Tell me what your muse is thinking, what they're feeling, what's happening around them. Give me something to work off of or it gets boring fast. Sorry.

🕷 || EXPERIENCE / HOW MANY YEARS?: I have been roleplaying on tumblr since 2009, I have been roleplaying in general since 2003-2004ish, started with my twin @defiedfate and just kinda ran from there.

🕷 || FLUFF, ANGST, OR SMUT?: I write a mix of all of them. My most popular/successful threads have always contained some balance between the three. And that's usually how it goes because all three are required to make a good story in my opinion.

🕷 || PLOTS OR MEMES?: While I don't mind either as they both can lead to great things, I tend to be faster when it comes to plotted things and that's mostly because I forget my inbox is there. I don't always have the spoons to do asks just because they are a lot of effort on my end to make up a story for both sides of the equation where as with replies I only have to worry about my own character.

🕷 || LONG OR SHORT REPLIES?: While I don't usually do especially short responses because I don't have icons (I have somewhere around 75 muses on this blog and don't have the patience to make icons for all of them), my responses can range anywhere from 2 to 10+ paragraphs depending on what I am feeling for the thread and how wordy I get.

🕷 || TIME TO WRITE?: I currently have nothing going on so I am pretty much here all day. This is actually set to change sometime in the next 2 weeks as I will be starting a new job but as I am expected to work mornings, I will have afternoons to play and will likely be doing some of my best work somewhere between post work clarity and collapsing into bed to sleep.

🕷 || ARE YOU LIKE YOUR MUSE(S)?: I like to think that everyone's muses have aspects of themselves in them, that's why they play them so well. The best muses are the ones that have a piece of the mun embedded in them. So I probably have something in common with all of my muses but as to what exactly those traits might be, your guess is as good as mine. Besides trauma...I got that in spades unfortunately...

tagged by ; @daddymothxxx & @voxtekoverlord

tagging ; @defiedfate, @infernalight, @diresang, @madefate, @fizzarollitm, @jizzlords, & anyone else who wants to do it :)

#{ dash games }#{ out of character }#{ keep }

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saltminerising · 11 months

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I’m new to making skins/accents, and was really anxious to even try again after one of the last ones I made got vague-posted about on here as being one of the ugliest skins ever made or whatever. (I’m really sorry for that, I was still learning and I’ve figured out some things from that one, but I’m sorry it was so stupid looking…) And so I decided to make a new one, but I got… no feedback or recognition / acknowledgment at all about it despite working really hard on it. Even my friends (of which I have like… 2… who even bother to talk to me… and I have a looking-for-friends thread up and it’s… also really gotten ignored… I just want someone to talk to and share my life with…) gave me a really lackluster 1-sentence reply. Now I just feel dejected. Is it really that bad? :c I spent so much time and effort on it and now I feel stupid.

And I also made a new pinglist for my skins/accents with the new pinglist feature. Then I saw I got a new subscriber to it, and was super excited, so I made a mental note to come check that out later (I was a little busy at the time and I’m forgetful). Then when I did come back to see who it was - my pinglist was empty again. Oh… Uhm okay, that’s alright I guess. But I do wonder if it being obvious to everyone else that there’s nobody in my pinglist influences people to not want to join. I get it. I’m super unpopular and my accents suck I guess. I just kind of feel bad.

I don’t want to say anything on-site because I don’t want to come across as whiny / needy or like a solid red flag to avoid (like “ew they’re so guilt-trippy / manipulative, avoid that with a passion haha yikes” and/or get mass-blocked for being a weirdo), but I can’t help but feel really bummed out. I wish staff would implement it so it’s not obvious who’s super unpopular. They promised they would and then they didn’t actually fix that at all. :c I know they’re making a new update sometime next week, but would it be that hard for them to hide the number of subscribers right now? Please?

I’m… just feeling really down / sad. Life’s been really sucky for me lately, so maybe that’s contributing to me feeling so bummed out (I’m sorry if I’m making a big deal out of nothing/overreacting or something). I’m also sorry for this textwall. (I’m autistic and bad at being concise and I know I’m super annoying and rambly about everything.)

Uhm- anyways. Hope you all are having a good day saltminers! Sorry for this stupid submission; nobody has to read this or anything. I wish everyone luck on their own projects, whatever that might be, whatever form it takes! <3 Here’s to hoping that life is treating you all well! (Also please remember to hydrate if you haven’t lately! ;w;…)

#skins and accents #submission #long post

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sasori-rp · 4 months

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Roleplay Rules

Hi there and welcome to my blog! Please keep in mind the following rules, when interacting with me. If you have any questions, feel free to ask!

General Information

This account has 3 different functions:

OOC Posts and Reblogs

Asks/Interactions/Reblogs/Posts in character

Roleplaying Semi-Lit/Lit/Novella

I will tag each of these functions accordingly. Keep i mind that my older posts (before 12.05.2024) have not undergone this change and may thus not have these tags.

OOC Posts and Reblogs

As the name suggests, this is just me having fun sharing memes, fanart, fanfictions and so on. These posts will be tagged as #Mod speaks and #Mod reblogs. If interacting with people via comments, I also use //mod to clarify who's speaking, as well as )) at the end of my messages in DMs. If you want to ask me a question/make a request for me perosnally, please address we with "Mod", so I know whom you're targeting.

In Character Interactions

A big part of this blog are my RP interactions with Tumblr users or other RP accounts in character. You will find a lot of One-Liner-Style Roleplay Posts on here. Character reactions will always be tagged with #Sasori RP. Additionally, all my answers/reblogs/posts in character will be written in red font.

As of now, there are no limitations to Asks. You can ask a question or hop straight into RP if you want. Keep in mind though, that if you wish to start a longterm RP, I'd prefer you to contact me via DMs, so that our back and forth doesn't clutter my feed for an extended period of time.

Feel free to tag me on any posts you'd like Sasori's reaction to.

The short-term interactions are open for anyone to reblog and interact with.

Don't forget, that Sasori is an impatient, rarely polite rogue who turns people into puppets for fun. He'll likely not be nice.

If I don't reply to you right away, that can include the following reasons: I haven't seen it yet, I need to think of a good reply (I value accuracy), I'm too busy with life rn, or I may have overread it. Please never assume I ignore you on purpose or out of malicious intent. I will get to you, I promise.

Roleplaying Semi-Lit/Lit/Novella

If you're interested in longterm RP, please contact me via DMs or send me an Ask, so that I can contact you. I'll discuss the plot and ideas with you, exchange requirements and will decide eventually, if I'm down or not. I don't have a lot of time, therefore I don't want to commit to too many Roleplays at once. I also only commit to Roleplays, that personally inspire me. For everything else, such as RPs that aren't fully my cup of tea, for crack interactions and similar things, I offer the short-term interactions I mentioned above.

As of now, this committed type of RP will be tagged as #Longterm RP for the time being. Perhaps I will come up with a better solution in the future. Despite it being RP, it will not be coloured in the before mentioned font colour, so as to increase the readability of long walls of text.

The Long-Term Roleplays are closed threads. Only the person whom I've agreed to RP with, is allowed to reblog the posts.

General Rules

Everyone is welcome on my blog. Regardless of gender, sexuality, ethnicity and age. Keep in mind though, that this blog may contain content for mature audiences, such as violence, cursing, sex and occasional (written) gore. I will try my best to tag sensitive posts as mature.

-> I know it can be annoying that all the fun accounts are minors DNI, so I try to keep this blog as open as possible, so that people under 18 get the chance to ask their favourite character questions as well. Be aware though, that I also post mature content. Interaction at your own risk.

I value open communication. If something is making you uncomfortable or upset, please tell me. We can then talk things out and work out a solution.

I'm not available for any hate speeches/angry rants/passive aggressiveness etc. If you try to involve me in any of these things, regardless of whether it is directed towards me, my friends or a stranger, I will block you. This blog is a safe space. If you have something important to share, you can do so in a constructive manner.

That said, for all those who have heard of the Anon Drama of the past few months: I am no longer involved with the people in question. I have cut contact with them for my wellbeing and sanity and do not want to be associated with them anymore. If you have questions on the topic, please contact me privately, I'll gladly give you a heads-up. Do not send me updates, screenshots or posts about things that may or may not have been said about me. I have moved on. Should you not have heard about the Anon Drama, thank your guardian angel and ignore this point.

I do not do Longterm RPs with OCs at the moment. That may change in the future. OCs are however welcome to send me Asks and make reblogs for me to react to in character.

Keep in mind that me and my characters are two separate people. Their actions and beliefs do not equal my own, neither do I hold grudges against anyone whom my characters may have insulted.

Lastly, have fun! This blog is meant to bring joy to both me and all those who love Sasori, so don't hesitate to interact. I love each and every question I receive and I am thankful for everyone who allows me to indulge in some fun and games with my favourite characters.

That's all from me for now! Thank you for reading my rules. I wish you all a lovely day and much fun with this blog.

- Your Mod

#mod speaks #Sasori #Akatsuki

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missparker · 1 year

Note

Hi! Can I ask for the, Perspective Flip: I’ll write a scene from [that fic] from another character’s point-of-view prompt? For The Devils in The Details, the scene being the few little lines after they have sex and Sharon is cleaning Brenda up in ch. 23? I’m mostly curious about Sharon’s thought process, is she like ‘Oh god. Who raised this woman who doesn’t pee after sex?!’ or is it more of ‘oh. look at this this woman who can barely take care of herself, it’s ok because she has me now.’ If that makes sense?? Thank you so much if you end up doing this! P.S. I absolutely love your fics and if i’m being honest they are my comfort fics so tysm.

ok i know this took a hot minute, but life got how life gets, you know? also this passage was a lot longer than i remembered!

Sharon doesn’t mind Brenda’s mattress, though she prefers her own linens. That’s what she’s thinking about, thread counts, when Brenda says, “You’re okay, right?”

“Me?”

“Yeah. Just sleeping and not… it’s no reflection on you, I just…”

Sharon’s heart always seems to be breaking in one way or another for Brenda. As tough as she seems: strong-willed and capable and intelligent, there’s always some uncertainty when it comes to interpersonal relationships. Like while everyone else was learning how to be a person who functioned in society, Brenda was learning how to catch murderers with her nose in a book.

“I think the expectation of sex every time we see each other is unsustainable,” Sharon says, trying to imbibe some warmth into her voice for reassurance. When Brenda doesn’t reply to that, she says, “Actually, I was starting to worry that I wouldn’t be able to keep up with your libido, over time. I’m old, you know.” The age difference usually doesn’t matter, but it occasionally rears its ugly head enough for Sharon to fret about it. It’s fine now, but what about in ten years? It’s fine now, when Sharon’s so enamored with Brenda that she wants her all the time, but she knows that no matter how attracted to someone at the start, those urges fade into something different with time. The urgency isn’t sustainable, though Sharon can’t imagine the desire will ever fade.

“You’ve been keeping up with me just fine,” Brenda assures her. “And you may be older than me but you’re still the most beautiful thing I have ever seen.”

Sharon can’t let that sail by her so she props herself up enough to kiss Brenda. When she pulls away, she just wants more, but Brenda getting sleep is more important.

“I mean if you really wanted to.”

Sharon rolls onto her back and says, “No, no.” She wants Brenda to have it all. To have her cake and eat it, too. So she offers, “You want me to get you off? Just to put you to sleep?”

“No,” Brenda says, though Sharon thinks she’s probably lying.

She sighs as she considers her options, letting a whole array of scenarios play out swiftly in her mind. “Okay.” There’s nothing Sharon likes more than being observed, but she also likes to do the observing. “Want to do it yourself?”

“What?”

“I could watch,” Sharon says.

“Is that—” She stops herself. “Would that be good for you?”

“I like to watch.” She exhales and then says, “Or be watched.” Something prickles up the back of her neck, like embarrassment, but in a different flavor. She feels shame, yes, but excitement and arousal and a certain sense of safety that she’s never felt before. She feels safe with Brenda. Safe enough to say her darkest desire aloud.

In the moonlight, Brenda’s face shifts into understanding. “Oh my god, the stuff on the phone. And here, the first time we… you said we didn’t have to touch. We were just going to watch each other. That was your idea.”

“People like what they like.” Embarrassment now surges to the forefront, past the other things.

“No, it’s good. It’s great. I just didn’t know you liked it so… so specifically.”

“It’s a difficult thing to ask for,” Sharon says. “You have to be so, um. Vulnerable, I guess.” She laughs nervously. “Forget it.”

“No.”

“You need to get some sleep.”

“Which do you prefer?” Brenda presses. “Watching or being watched? Or at the same time?”

“Brenda,” Sharon says. It’s difficult to be the one who keeps saying no. This is what she meant when she said she was worried about Brenda’s libido. The physical aspect eventually, sure, but having to be the responsible one holding the line late at night when they’re both tired and sleep deprived. “We weren’t going to do this.”

“Too late for that,” Brenda says. “We can be fast or you can keep dragging it out, but no turning back now.” And to illustrate how serious she is, she reaches for the hem of her white tank top and pulls it up over her head. “Which is it? Captain?”

Sharon groans. “Being watched.” Saying it outloud sweeps the embarrassment aside and replaces it with arousal so strong that her hands slide down into her own briefs and she whimpers at the contact. They’re her hands, but with Brenda’s eyes on her, they may as well be Brenda’s fingers working her so expertly. Sharon loses herself easily like this, slipping in and out of herself, lost in the sensation.

Brenda pulls the blanket off of her and then carefully helps Sharon out of her bottoms.

“Beautiful. Look how ready you are.”

And she is ready. She could pop off like a cork out of champagne at any moment, but she hovers instead, easing herself back from the edge and then running toward it again every time she sees Brenda’s dark eyes, her hips squirming on the mattress.

Sharon can hold herself off better than Brenda can. Brenda is a train going full speed toward a broken track. Brenda is on a suicide mission of pleasure, she always is. She has no patience for the hazy in-between hovering that Sharon has mastered after years of being her own source of pleasure.

“Look at you,” Brenda says. “So fucking hot.”

Like Brenda has reached right into the haze and yanked her out, hard and fast. Sharon comes and comes and comes.

When she finally floats back down to herself, she says, “Good. That was good.”

“Looked good,” Brenda says, strangled and sweating, her hands on her breasts.

“Lie back,” Sharon says, taking pity.

“I thought… just watching,” Brenda pants.

“Lie back.” It’s no longer a request. The only thing she likes more than her own orgasm, like floating on the ocean with her ears submerged, is getting Brenda off. It’s just that she enjoys it so much, she’s so shameless and hedonistic. She gives Sharon every part of herself, every cell. Sharon gets drunk on it.

Brenda groans and flops back, her head missing the pillow by an inch or two. Sharon yanks her underwear off. Brenda lifts her legs so Sharon can guide them off swiftly and then Sharon pushes her knees apart.

Brenda gasps when Sharon presses a finger in and then a second. She pumps in and out a few times and then pushes her hair over one shoulder and leans down to drag her tongue over Brenda’s clit. Carefully sucks it, adding more pressure with each pulsating slurp until Brenda is coming right against her tongue.

It doesn’t happen every time but it’s happened more than once where Brenda comes so hard that she blacks out and Sharon allows herself to feel smug, looking down at Brenda’s still form, sweaty and breathing hard but clearly gone dark.

Sharon will clean her up. A warm washcloth and a kiss on the forehead. It’s rare she sees Brenda helpless, anyway. And it’s rare that any woman feels safe enough to be this vulnerable with another person, so Sharon is honored to have gotten her Chief off so hard that she gets to provide affectionate aftercare now.

Brenda tries to say Sharon’s name, but it’s mostly a mumble.

“Shh,” Sharon says. “Go to sleep. I’ve got you.”

Brenda hums a happy sound and drifts away again.

#brenda x sharon #fic life

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captain-writes · 2 years

Note

Snippet ideas:

Joel giving Hermes a bath in the magic fountain (hermes needs it to continue being a real kid)

Scott describing what magic he sees from the other emperors, Oli's magic is interesting

Scar's Horse's POV in that one episode of Double Life when they were being passed around by half the server

Any Double Life duo talking about what they'll do if they win

“What would you do? If we won?” Impulse asked on a whim, tucked into bed next to his soulmate.

Bdubs was silent for a moment, but eventually turned to face Impulse, “Probably brag to Etho and Cleo. But after that, I’d want to build a small place, in brand new, freshly loaded chunks on Hermitcraft. I’d make it pretty.”

“Why a house?”

“Sometimes I think this game makes us forget what it feels like to make something that will stick around. What it feels like to really build something. Dying helps, almost. Losing, I mean.”

Impulse thought for a few seconds before replying, “I think you’re right. Grian really struggled when he won the first one. So you’d build that house away from everyone?”

“You’d be allowed to visit. Everyone else is invitation only though.”

“I don’t need an invitation?”

The smaller man’s cheeks puffed up in a pout, “Not if you built it with me. Then it would be our house. Wouldn’t make sense for you to need an invitation to your own house, would it?”

“I guess not,” Impulse smiled, almost laughing for a moment. “it’s a good plan.”

“Yeah?”

Impulse nodded, threading his fingers between Bdubs’, “Yeah. You know, let’s do it. If we win, we build a little house in Hermitcraft together. Something pretty, together.”

“Together sounds really good. Now, let’s sleep.”

#double life #double life smp #Double life shipping #bdubs #BDoubleO100 #impulseSV #dlsmp bdubs #dlsmp impulse #dlsmp #trafficshipping #trafficblr #traffic smp #trafficsmp

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roleplay-abiogenesis2 · 2 years

Text

Blog Update / Muse Retirement

//Hate that it's got to this point. Going to be a bit of a downer here so, read at your own discretion.

There is little to say really. Like many people here, I use RP as a form of escapism to my own stress and life. It makes me genuinely happy to get into character and forget about problems for a while.

These past weeks I have been in dire need of RP more than I had in a very long time. An awful timing really, to hit a slump in interactions.

I did my homework, I tried to network. I reached out. A few became welcome and beautiful mutuals, but many, many many others unfortunately did not. At my age, I tell myself I can handle rejection well, but that is only true to a certain degree. Even if I don't let these feelings impact my routine and real life, they are there nonetheless. And I don't want them to be.

After doing research on how to help with the situation, I have reached the conclusion that I have been in denial just how much my choice to make a multimuse blog has come back to bite me in the ass. Things like anonymous RP confessions say it like it is: multimuse blogs are stigmatized and often passed on without a chance given.

We are considered to be unorganized, lack commitment, and not provide the muses we put in our roster we asked. Personally, I thought multimuse was an excellent idea. I thought that making single blogs muses for such niche fandoms would lead to no activity, since my pool of potential partners would be smaller. I thought a multimuse would equal to fish with a net rather than a rod.

I was wrong, haha.

I can be super organized and tag every post with its fandom; I can provide all the tools for my followers to blacklist fandoms they are not interested in; I can commit to respond to any muse in my roster one may ask for. All this hard work won't amount to anything to those who just look at a number and decide I do none of those things without actually giving me a chance to prove them wrong.

So what is it that I can do? Create single muse blogs. The idea of having to log out and log in from tumblr for each individual muse to check notifications, reblog memes and post replies seems like even more work than what I already am doing, but if it is what gets mutuals, then so be it.

I feel like I have lost a fight here, but RP is a hobby, my favorite hobby, and it shouldn't be making me miserable.

So what is the TLDR? Do not panic. This blog isn't going anywhere anytime soon. But I will be slowly retiring muses that haven't gotten any engagement in months. Those I care to keep will get their own blog, and when those are set up and running, I will update you and provide links for anyone interested.

We are talking about an endeavor that will take months, so do not throw me away as a mutual just yet. This blog will stay up and running until everything else is set up properly. I have over 1500 posts to scan through and decide whether to transfer or not (I hate to leave my own writing behind, I like to go back and reread these threads for my own enjoyment).

In the meantime, I hope to still RP with everyone here. If you want to make sure I update you regarding a specific muse getting their own blog, DM me and I'll write a memo to do so. Just know that it is a long term project.

Thanks to all of my new mutuals and the old ones who have stuck around. You guys are keeping me sane everyday and trust me, this is less of an overstatement than it sounds.

Saru-mun\\

#00b || you should check this out~ [psa]#rant kinda?#hopefully not #it's not like I can be angry at anyone for this #just need some changes to fit the RPC better #00A || Saru-mun is still alive! [OOC]

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strawberry-barista · 1 year

Text

knowing your partner well can potentially make writing a lot easier, repost, do not reblog. meet the mun.

— basics

name: Kohi pronouns: She/her reference of communication: Discord or tumblr ims single/taken: Single

— three facts

I have never been diagnosed with anything in my life, but at this point it's getting hard to deny there's something going on with me. Most definitely some form of social anxiety, I'm terrified of all of you, but I don't know what else.

I really like nursery kitsch and I dress my room up in little antiques I collect.

I forget things super easy. I can't remember my childhood anymore, nor anyone I went to school with. Sometimes I struggle even to remember what I did the day before. But I remember the weirdest details all the time, like the colors of the toys in my childhood bedroom or a very specific poster on the wall.

— experience

I have been roleplaying for years (since I was in high school), but I usually don't count that experience too much because I don't feel like I started learning anything until much much later. Maybe my experience should really start when I joined this site? Have I improved any? That'd be about a year and a half now, right?

— sub-genres

I don't really have any favorites, but I'm not super great with writing action/combat so genres that include a lot of those are usually less likely to happen from me. I do really like to write angst and fluff in equal measure, but my angst tends to really upset people so I try not to do that too much these days. I don't want to hurt anyone.

— plots vs memes

I tend to work better with memes just because I'm really terrible at plotting. If I'm forced to sit there for a while and think of a bullet point list of things my characters can do to start interaction or scenarios they might find themselves in with others, I can, but it takes a really long time. I really suck at it. Getting memes in forces me to come up with something on the spot and I feel the pressure and it makes real work come out of me.

— long or short replies

I don't really have a preference as long as I have something I can reply, too. However, I do start to sort of lose energy for a thread if I'm consistently getting just one or two sentences per response. Like, that happening once or twice doesn't bother me, but if our thread has lasted 20+ notes and every single one I've replied to has been only one sentence or so I get stunted and can't think of ideas. I have no idea why my brain works that way, either, literally it's not a you problem that's just how I function. The sole exception to this is rapid-fire dash comm, and even then, if it last more than a few notes I start lengthening it and turning it into a real thread. Otherwise, I generally just try to match the length of my partner.

— best time to write

I usually get the most time to write between 7 AM - 4 PM CST on Mondays - Fridays because those are the days and times in which everyone in my house is gone and I'm free to do whatever I want. However on the weekends and any time past or before those I'm usually doing something with my family and don't have as much time. If we're just watching tv or something I can be on as late as 9 PM, but I can't promise that kind of schedule consistently. Aaaand since it's now summer and Sibling is off work (kind of), I may lose even that much of my schedule. Right now it really just depends on the day.

#wise and very well organized ⤙psa⤚⚄#read by someone taken as a good one ⤙dash⤚⚄#anonymity annoying me ⤙ooc⤚⚄#that's how the connection works ⤙rules⤚⚄

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blvckqwz · 8 months

Text

13. Karma

TW FOR SA AND MENTIONS OF RAPE

The sound of a shot rang in Isabelle’s ears as time seemed to freeze, everyone in the room holding a breath as they watched the scene unfold in front of them. Then a thump, followed by another shoot. Then deadly silence. And it was over, just like that.

Isabelle didn’t know if they could all be ever the same again, as she exited the hospital. She knew that she couldn’t.

The day had begun like it always did, with a harish slap coming down Isabelle’s already bruised face, the sting not even surprising her anymore as she stared right into Dawn’s eyes before returning to her work. The woman was angry at some officers for not replying to the radio, which was unfortunate for those who were around her. It brought memories back to Isabelle’s mind, memories that she had tried to bury away.

“I’ll go help Percy.” Isabelle murmured before exiting the office, the cop’s eyes bitter on her as she turned her back. It had been only a few weeks since she had arrived at the hospital, but to her it felt like months, years even. She had forgotten how it smelt outside, hot it felt to have the sun above her head.

This place reeked of cheap disinfectant and sadness, the officers were mean, and rude, and creepy. And she hated it, she hated that hospital, she hated those yellowish walls, she hated those infinite hallways, she hated the beeping sounds that followed her from room to room.

“No, Percy, tell me. Should I use smaller words?” An officer yelled towards Percy, an elderly man that was there as a slave just like her, “Is the directive fix the hole in my sleeve too complicated for you?

The officer’s name was O’Donnell, Isabelle could read it on the shiny tag pinned on his uniform. He was mean, not like Dawn or like Gorman, but still mean. Two days before a girl had killed herself, Joan, a woman in her twenties. Isabelle understood why she did it, but after Beth told her what happened to her, she understood even more.

She had been raped. In that hospital. By officers. And he was among the ones that laughed.

Isabelle’s skin crawled as she thought about the fact that she was under the same roof as a rapist. She knew what the word meant more than she would like, even if Beth tried to dance around it.

“I'm sorry. I forgot.” The old man murmured. It broke Isabelle’s heart to see him like this.

“Well, here's an idea.” O’Donnell’s face contorted in an evil smirk, “Don't forget.”

Then the officer turned to her, “Get here.” He ordered.

Isabelle hesitantly walked towards the man.

“You any good with needle and thread?” He asked. The girl nodded. “Then you’ll do it.” He stated before taking off his jacket and throwing it to the old man.”Let’s see if you learn anything, senile.” He smirked as he walked away.

Isabelle waited until the man turned to another hallway before picking up the jacket and turning to the old man, “Are you okay?”

Percy weakly nodded, “I’m sorry, I won’t learn very well. Sometimes I forget things.”

The girl smiled, “It’s okay, I don’t mind repeating things.”

She didn’t really know how to stitch, at least not very well. Her hands usually shook too bad to center the needle hole, and she wasn’t very patient. The only reason that she said that she did was to stop that officer from bullying the old man, but she knew that she would get beaten for lying.

So she worked as hard as she could on the jacket, hoping to fool O’Donnell into believing that she knew what she was doing. Percy was probably believing her, because he nodded every now and then as she explained what she was doing. Then someone called him, so she waved her goodbyes to the old man before carefully returning to her work.

And that’s when it all began to fall down. Because he entered the room. At first his eyes were on her hands, following every movement, making sure that she didn’t make any mistake as she sewed up his colleague’s jacket. Then Isabelle could feel that his gaze moved somewhere else, and she felt sick to her stomach.

“Can I help you?” Her hand began to tremble even more as she purposely kept facing the jacket, afraid that if she turned around she would begin the chase. She could hear him licking his lips and she began to pray for any mercy. That if she had to endure that she would rather get killed now.

“I just came to say hello.” He replied as she could feel him shift closer. Her heart was thumping in her chest like it wanted to break free and escape from the horrible things that were about to happen. She couldn’t help but share the same desire.

“Hello.” She murmured as she focussed even more in patching the jacket in front of her. But she knew that he wasn’t going to stop, they never do.

“You are good at this.” Gorman noticed as he came even closer, his chest almost touching the girl’s back. Isabelle felt her breath stop as a hand brushed her arm, her skin crawling, begging her to run away. The hand then moved to her brown hair, brushing them lightly as he began to whistle, and Isabelle almost gagged.

“Girl’s should keep their hair long, you know?” He commented as he kept running his disgusting fingers through her locks, “Good thing you can make them grow long now. There is no need to cut them anymore.”

And he didn’t know how wrong he was. Because her mom always said that cutting her hair short was to keep bad men away, and right now one of them was beside her. So he was wrong, and the only thing Isabelle wanted to do was chop all her hair, even if she liked them longer.

She bit her bottom lip to stop it from quivering as she studied the needle in her hand. Too thin to cause damage, maybe if she shoved it in his eye, but then what? Her mind went back to the girl who killed herself.

“You never told me your name.” Gorman continued before stopping running his hand in her hair. “Care to tell me now?”

“Isabelle.” Her voice was barely a whisper as she could already feel tears on her cheeks. Gordon must have felt them too, because he grabbed her shoulder and made her turn around before raising the hand that wasn’t still uncomfortably gripping to her shoulder and brushing her cheek, wiping away the few tears.

“You are a smart girl Isabelle.” Her name falling from his lips felt disgusting, almost like a threat. It felt wrong, everything did, “That’s why I picked you.”

Isabelle was now face to face with the man, her scared eyes avoiding his hungry ones as if that could somehow help her. She could feel his breath tickling her still wet cheeks and she felt like dying.

“Don’t cry.” His voice sounded like they were having a friendly conversation, but his words were violent, “It won’t help you.”

“Please.” She murmured as she tried to back down, “Please leave me alone.”

“I’m afraid I can’t do that.” Gorman sighed like it was really not his fault, and Isabelle felt even more sick in her stomach knowing that he didn’t even recognize his disgusting behavior.

“If you go away now, I won’t say anything.” The girl promised, and she almost cursed herself for her naivety. He wasn’t leaving. And she wasn’t either, his grip on her shoulder making sure of that.

“You won’t say anything.” Gorman repeated, “I know you won’t.”

She wished that she could tell him to not be so sure of himself, but she knew that guilt and shame would close her throat and kill down any word she would say, eating herself from the inside.

Her back hit the table and she had to stop backing away from the demon in front of her. So he took it as a chance to get even closer to her, because they always do. And his breath started ticking against her cheeks again.

And she wanted to die.

She closed her eyes as she could feel his hand let go of her shoulder before wandering to her arm, and then even lower. Fear made her shake like a leaf as she kept her eyes closed shut, already knowing what was about to happen.

Then she heard a zipper flying open, and she knew it was the end. That she would just become another Joan in a world already full of them. She could hear him shifting and struggling as he unbuttoned his pants, but she didn’t dare to open her eyes. She could only hear him murmuring things she couldn’t quite catch and the sound of fabric moving.

Then the sound of the door flying open.

“Leave her alone.” Percy’s voice sounded firm for the first time since Isabelle had met him, “She’s a kid Gorman.”

“Go back to work.” The officer barked.

“She’s a kid.” She could hear the old man repeat.

“Percy.” She heard Gorman say as he pushed himself off her, “Go back to work.”

Isabelle opened her eyes just in time to see the cop smashing the old man’s head against the white door, leaving stains of red on it. Then he did it again, and again. Isabelle winched at the sound of flesh hitting the surface with disgustings splashes as she quickly looked away to find something to use once Gorman was done with the man.

Her hands were still shaking and they were coated in cold sweat as she opened every drawer she could find, desperately looking for anything she could use as a weapon. She was so focussed on her search that she didn’t notice the thumps stopping. Isabelle looked around to find Gorman crouched next to the bloodied man, two fingers pressed against his neck as he tried to find a pulse. He probably didn’t, because he let out a curse as he rubbed his hand now covered in Percy’s blood over his face.

Then the girl made the mistake of letting out a cry as she watched the pool of dark crimson blood expanding from the wounds on the old man’s face. It was a juvenile error, one that a thirteen year old girl would make after seeing another person’s life end. Gorman’s attention was again on the teen, his eyes dangerously glowing as he launched towards her, a hand on her mouth while the other grabbed her hair, forcing her to stay still.

“You didn’t see anything!” He yelled, “I didn’t do anything. He killed himself.”

And Isabelle hated herself for nodding, accepting to cover for the horrible man and his horrible pervasion. The weird little tricks fear has on a person. Percy must have been scared of Gorman, but that didn’t stop him from protecting her. And she was willing to cover for his gruesome murder.

She was ashamed of herself, but she still nodded. Maybe after the man had satisfied his blood lust, he would forget about his previous one, she naively thought. Maybe he would leave her alone, afraid that she may talk if he did another bad thing. But he didn’t, because they never do.

Because there are no consequences for a man’s wickedness, only the weak naive girls were left to pay. And guilt gnawed their innocent hearts as they watched the monsters fest on their body.

“I knew it.” He murmured, “You are so smart, right?”

The words echoed in Isabelle’s mind, flashbacks she wished that she didn’t have taking over her rotting brain.

“Start running.”

Alex had said the same words before, at Terminus, when he was trying to kill her.And she did, as fast as her aching legs allowed, straight to the door. But he grabbed her, throwing her on the hard floor. She hissed in pain. He was right, she in fact was malnourished, and had been for a long time.

He wanted her blood, just like the new monster now in front of her did.

“I’ve got you.” The sick grin was back on the man’s face as he lowered himself, “No more games.” He turned serious as he grabbed her by her arm and shoved her against a table, making her hit her head.

He pinned her down, and she couldn’t breathe. She also couldn’t breathe now, as Gorman tried to start again what he had previously initiated.

Isabelle let out a cry as she felt hot liquid pouring from her head on her neck and back. A fist landed on her cheekbone, “You think you are so clever, uh?” He was furious now, totally deranged, “You are so smart, right?” Another punch.

“You are so smart.” Gorman repeated as he lifted her shirt, his gross hands touching her bare stomach.

Red filled her vision, and the girl could swear that she was having a concussion with all those hits on the head.

Red filled her vision as she felt callous fingers on her skin. Her hands wandered around her, blindly trying to grab anything that could help her. Her fingers traced all the objects on the table behind her, but nothing seemed good enough.

“Good girl.” The vicious man murmured as he played with the waistband of her trousers, too preoccupied in his degenerate fantasy to notice the girl’s small finger wrapping themself around a small but sharp object behind her back.

It was only then the pen got jammed in his jugular that he became alert again, but it was late, because the black ink was already mixing with the red blood, the girl hissing as she pressed the nib in the man’s neck, both tears and blood smearing her face once again.

The man stumbled backwards, slipping his hands off under the girl’s shirt to hold his bloodied neck, and Isabelle could swear that she almost saw betrayal in his eyes as she kicked him in the chest, causing him to fall on the old man’s corpse.

She ran out of the room as soon as the man was on the ground, but she could still hear his scream in agony as he got eaten alive by the walker. Call it karma or whatever.

“Isabelle!” Beth’s voice rang across the empty hallways as she took notice of the young girl’s disheveled look. Her shirt was half lifted, her skin, hair and clothes all bloodied. It didn’t take long for the blonde to understand what had happened, and she couldn’t help but feel a twinge of guilt as she watched Isabelle’s teary eyes.

She had warned her about Gorman, but she couldn’t bring herself to repeat what he had done to her, what he would do to her. And now it was too late. She tried to catch a glimpse of her eyes, but she was keeping them low now, avoiding any type of eye contact.

“They came for us, Isabelle.” Beth said as she rested a hand on Isabelle’s forearm. The girl flinched at the touch, and the oldest girl immediately backed down.

“You have to change, they are waiting for us.” The blonde insisted as she handed the young girl her old clothes. Isabelle studied the pile of clothes in her hands, but she couldn’t bring herself to move. She couldn’t think of anything.

She felt Beth pulling her in a hug, and this time she didn’t flinch. Instead she stayed still like a rag doll, allowing the older girl to slip something cold and sharp in her limp hand, closing her fist over the younger girl’s one. “We’ll get out.” The blonde murmured before pulling away.

But Isabelle’s eyes were still fixed on the shiny floor, and aside from her fist clenched around the bisturi she had handed her, Beth had no clue if she had understood anything she said. “Isabelle you can change here, I’ll keep guard.” The blonde said as she nodded towards an empty room.

This time the girl gave a sign of understanding as she slightly nodded her head before dragging herself into the room, and Beth could hear the key twisting into the lock immediately after she closed the door. She just swallowed the lump of guilt in her throat before resting her back on the door, making sure that no one dared to come near the girl. God only knew that she had already been through enough.

But God didn’t care, Isabelle thought as she stared at the dusty mirror in the half illuminated room,disgusted by her own reflection. It wasn’t fair, but then why did it feel like a payback? She had killed someone again.

Isabelle huffed as she picked the mirror and carefully turned it around so that it was now facing the wall. It made her feel a little better, but the shame was still there. And she didn’t even have soap to scrub it away this time.

The girl reluctantly peeled her blood wrenched shirt off her sweaty body, almost letting out a sob at the feeling of the cool air against her bare torso. She tried to wipe the blood off her arms with the cloth that was once her shirt, but she didn’t have any water to clean it off, so it didn't really work.

Isabelle stared at the red stains on her too pale skin and started to become more and more frantic as she ran the rough fabric on herself, not even feeling a sting of pain as the cloth scratched her arms. She started to become delirious when the stains didn’t come off even once she had made her skin raw red.

A ugly sob escaped from the back of her throat as she kept scrubbing, her irritated skin turning an angry shade of red. She could hear someone banging on the door as she got even more furious, her sobs turning frenetic as she could feel her throat closing.

“Isabelle, open the door!” Beth called from the other side as she uselessly tried to open the door, “I’m here to help you, please open the door.”

But Isabelle couldn’t even hear her, let alone reply. Her mind was clouded, her brain completely shutting off as she kept scrubbing off the blood. But it wasn’t going away.

She didn’t know when she finally answered Beth’s pleadings and opened the door, she just remembered her hugging her, telling her that everything was okay, even if it wasn’t. And then, when she explained that she had been trying to wipe the blood off her arm, the older girl gave her a confused look before grabbing her arm, careful not to hurt the raw skin.

“There aren’t any stains here, Isabelle.” She said it with the same concern she had heard from the doctors when they asked her if she had understood what had happened that infamous night of mid july. And she did the same thing she did back then: She shook her head in confusion.

“It’s okay, I’ll help you.” The last thing she remembered was Beth’s hushed tone, “Is that okay?” Isabelle nodded. Everything after that was a blur.

She assumed that Beth had helped her change, brushed her hair, and then cleaned the blood off her with a wet towel, because when she caught a glimpse of her reflection as she and Beth walked towards the hall where the exchange was supposed to happen, she almost looked decent. But deep down she knew that she wasn’t.

Beth’s grip on her hand tightened as she shot her a half smile, trying to reassure her as they were escorted by the officers. Isabelle had a thought, last night, a very selfish one. A horrible one.

She wondered how her life would have been if she was born a Greene and not a Dixon. During their late night talks, Beth told her about her and Maggie’s father, about the beautiful farm they had. Isabelle would have liked living there. She liked farms and she liked animals. At least she liked them better than trailers that reek of beer.

But she felt guilty for thinking that. Because her parents tried the best they would. Most of the time. They gave her a roof and food. Her mom gave her clothes that she got from work and her uncle had built her a bike, even if it was a bit ugly and didn’t really work well. Her dad used to take her on car rides with his truck in the summers, and he let her roll down the windows and put her head out to feel the wind as long as other cars weren’t around.

She had lived a happy life. But then why did she feel almost jealous of Beth’s childhood? She knew that if she had lived like Beth she wouldn’t flinch every time someone made a quick movement around her head. And that she wouldn’t know what CSA stands for. But she wouldn’t know how to climb real fast either. And if she wasn’t a Dixon, she would have had a lot more problems at adapting.

So she was happy to be a Dixon, even if late at night she wished that she was a Greene. Or anyone else but her.

The doors fled open, and her, Beth and the few officers that had taken them there met with the rest of the hospital people, Dwan first in line. Isabelle wondered when they were going to notice that Gorman wasnìt with them. She pushed the thought away because it was making her sick.

The first person of her group that she noticed was her father. He looked so out of place between the shiny floor and the neat walls, but he still stood his ground. Their eyes met for a brief second, and Isabelle wished that she could muster up the strength to fake a smile, just to let him know that she was okay. But she wasn’t, so she instead just stared at him until his eyes moved back to Rick, who was standing a few feets from him.

Carl wasn’t there, Isabelle noticed, and she couldn’t help but feel a bit of disappointment. But she knew that it was safer this way, and that she would see him again soon. And that everything was going to be okay, that she was going to be okay, because she always was.

“Holster your weapons.” Dawn ordered in her usual cold tone. Isabelle looked at the other people among her group. There was Tyreese with Sasha, Carol, who shot Isabelle a half smile as her eyes landed on her, and a boy Isabelle didn’t know. He looked to be a bit older than her, but still a child. Maybe he was about Beth’s age.

“Where's Lamson?”

“Rotters got him.” Rick said, and for some reason Isabelle didn’t believe him. But either way it was okay, because she was in no place to judge.

“We saw it go down.” One of the hostages affirmed.

“Oh. I'm sorry to hear that.” Dawn said, “He was one of the good guys.” Isabelle would have rolled her eyes if she had any energy, but that place had completely drawn it from her.

“One of yours for one of mine.” She then added.

“All right.” Rick nodded.

Dawn turned around, landing her eyes on the younger girl, “Move.” She ordered. Isabelle looked up at Beth one instant before letting the other girl’s hand go. She took a few steps towards her group, her eyes never leaving Dawn’s. The woman’s stern gaze was reciprocated by the girl’s angry one. Dawn knew, she had to, and she still let those degenerates do what they did.

“Move.” The cop hissed again, and Isabelle noticed that she had almost stopped in a halt and was now just glaring at the woman. She sent her one last hateful look at the officer before hurrying towards her group.

Rick placed a hand on the girl’s shoulder, tilting his head to make sure she was alright. The girl couldn’ bar to meet his gaze, because he was a cop and he was going to read her mind in a second if he saw the hopelessness in her eyes. But she still nodded to let him know that she was okay, more or less. It seemed enough for the policeman at the moment, because he also nodded before letting her go.

The girl walked towards Carol, and she could see the hurt in her father’s eyes as she did so. But she couldn’t go to him, not after knowing that what he had tried to save her from had happened again. So she stuck to Carol’s side, who put a hand on Isabelle’s arm in a protective way, almost as if she was trying to shield her. Isabelle liked Carol, even if they had rarely talked.

Isabelle watched the hostages returning to their group and Beth advancing towards them, smiling as her blonde ponytail swinged from side to side. Then Dawn asked for the boy Isabelle didn’t know, but soon figured out to be the one that escaped a little before she was kidnapped.

“He's one of mine. You have no claim on him.” She said, as if anyone could have a claim on another human being.

“The boy wants to go home, so you have no claim on him.” Rick replied.

“Well, then we don't have a deal.”

The boy spoke up for the first time, “It's okay. I gotta do it.”

“No, it’s not okay.” Beth replied.

It was really sad, especially knowing what awaited him behind those doors. Isabelle felt bad for the boy, guilty even. If she hadn’t let them kidnap her by being so reckless, there would be enough hostages.

Beth and the boy hugged, and Isabelle hid even further behind Carol, like a kid hiding behind his mom. She could feel Carol rubbing her arm as she shut her eyes close and she felt like a little toddler.

“I knew you'd be back.” One of the officers said to the boy once he and Beth walked away from each other. This really upsetted Isabelle, and it must have upsetted Beth even more because she now had an almost wild look in her watery eyes as she turned around, walking up to the officers until she was in front of Dawn.

Isabelle could see her fidgeting with her fingers the hem of her sleeve. Then she caught the shining of metal, and she suddenly became aware of the bisturi Beth had given her earlier. She wanted to stop her, but it was too late.

“I get it now.” Her savior said before stabbing Dawn in the shoulder with a pair of shiny scissors. The shot came immediately after, almost as a reflex. And just like that Beth Greene was dead, her once golden locks now a dark crimson as she hit the floor with a thump.

Isabelle pressed her good hand against her mouth as she suppressed a sob, everything around her becoming blurred, unimportant. She was aware of her father shooting Dawn dead, but she didn’t care. She was aware of Carol trying to pull her away, but she didn’t care.

All she cared about was the girl that was once so kind to her, almost like a sister even if for such a brief period of time, and that now laid lifeless on the cold, not so clean anymore, floor.

For a second Isabelle almost expected a miracle to happen, that in some way the shot didn’t kill the blonde girl and that she would be okay. That they would escape the hospital together like they had said.

But nothing happened.

Isabelle eyed the girl’s brain smeared on the white floor one last time before allowing a sobbing Carol to drag her away. She couldn’t even cry, she just let heavy tears roll down her cheeks without even noticing.

Isabelle didn’t know if they could all be ever the same again, as she exited the hospital. She knew that she couldn’t.

#fanfic #twd x reader #twd fanfiction #carl grimes fanfiction #carl grimes x reader #carl grimes x oc #isabelle dixon #lost kids ff

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