#hello my seven followers this is silly hour.

[uraniumecho]

You're following ANOTHER Umbreon?

I thought we were besties...

You're following ANOTHER Zorua?

I thought we were besteries.

You're following ANOTHER...

[acotarxreader]

Honey

Azriel x Reader

Synopsis: Azriel frequents the hotel in Hewn City that you manage with his many lovers, a source of your constant teasing until Azriel can't replace the way he feels about you with anyone else.

Warnings: Silly, fluff, banter, back and forth hehe, a lil slut shaming moment

A/N: Hello friends, it was recently my birthday and now I am travelling in celebration but not before put out this is silly little cute fic, originally titled Heartbreak Hotel but I think Honey just fitted so much more, you'll of course see why. I'm working on a second party of Mirror but still haven't decided if it's ready or not yet ✨

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Your legs laid one over the other beneath the large oak desk, one-foot tip tapping, the sound of the large grandfather clock’s beating heart filling the lobby. Your head rested on your hands between the shadows cast by large stacks of unchecked paperwork. The ring of the well-rung bell forced you upright in your chair once again as a cloaked figure entered the hotel accompanied by a bubbly, bright female who seemingly couldn’t believe she had been chosen. You scoffed at the two of them, the male approaching you familiarly while the female absentmindedly twirled her hair by the stairs.

“One room please” he spoke quietly through his hood, a scarf obscuring his lower face. 

“No problem, here are your keys, one for you and one for Honey over there”

“My name isn’t Honey?” the female tilted her head, her doe eyes sparkling at you before she found her attention taken by the bowl of centuries-old sweets on the coffee table of the lobby. 

“Oh Honey, not like it matters” You smirked quietly to yourself for only him to hear. You offered the two keys between your fingers, his scarred hands taking them softly before he turned on his heels.

“Have fun Honey”

“Why does she keep calling me Honey?” the female asked him as he practically swept her up the stairs ahead of him, not bothering to answer her. You returned to your resting position, eyes landing on the booming clock to begin your timer. 

Sometime later Azriel came quickly down the stairs, solo, you grinning from behind your desk at the sight of a slightly dishevelled warrior. 

“Must have been chatty, two hours and…seven minutes, new record” You chuckled, your palm flat waiting to receive the key.

“You’re very judgemental, it’s bad for your skin” he teased.

“Keeps my heart young though” He smiled through the scarf covering the bottom half of his face, the corners of his eyes lifting to match yours. 

“I come here for discretion, perhaps I have overstayed that courtesy”

“Whatever, you know you love me” You batted your eyelashes in faux obsession that was very rapidly becoming less and less faux.

“I tolerate you, honey” You scoffed at his reply, taking the key, his hazel eyes examining you closely. It had been close to a year since Azriel had begun to show up occasionally with his Hewn City conquests. The hotel you managed was on the very outskirts of Hewn City, at the very limits of the mountain, too far and too cold for most to trek to. 

“Whatever” you stood, slogging your bag across your back as the sound of another Fae shuffling in the background got louder. You slid over the desk with the agile grace that comes with years of practice, landing at Azriel’s feet  

“And where are you off to?”

“Home” You strode past him, the female taking over your shift sank into your chair without so much as a goodbye. You strolled into the dark streets of the enclave in the mountain, conscious of the shadows that followed you.

“Unbefitting of a lady to travel in these streets alone”

“Unbefitting of a gentleman to comment” You shot back at him, a few steps trailing you from behind. 

“If you’re going to murder me, at least walk beside me until you decide the right time, the hovering is creepy honey” He quickly closed the distance he held from behind you, meeting your side with a curiosity he couldn’t quash. 

“How I do love our time together…ehh” You stopped still at his words, turning to raise an eyebrow at him.

“Really? It’s been like a year and you don’t know my name”

“I hadn’t realised such a thing would bother you, honey” The corner of his eyes turned up, his deep smirk masked behind his handkerchief. 

“You bother me” You lied, striding once more through the icy winter streets, the mountain's deep core working overtime to shield from the arctic temperatures on the other side of the shell. 

“At least I know you think about me, honey”

“Yeah, I think of how your money is gonna free me from here” You half laughed, feeling Azriel stop alongside you again.

“You want to leave here?” He quizzed, your gaze turning back to see his slumping shoulders, wings tightly folded in to be kept from the cold and potential threats. 

“Why would I stay? For the company?” You scoff before continuing your stride, passers-by watching you with eagerness, waiting for a moment to pounce and thinking otherwise when noticing Azriel. 

“There are plans to improve the City” He jogged once again to walk parallel to you. 

“Are they levelling it?” You smirked, gaining an equal expression from the Shadowsinger. 

“What do you suggest, honey, other than a large bang?”

“Not my job, that’s the job of the pompous assholes that live upstairs” You shrugged, unaware of your company, Azriels grin deepening. 

“Perhaps” his hands rested behind his back, striding along in levelheaded confidence you matched with your casual self-assured nature. 

“This is me” You swung your bag to your stomach, digging through its contents for your keys, Azriel inspecting your home. The towering building matched its surrounding counterparts, paint peeling, stones splitting as the structure stretched into the thick boulder it was cut into. An elderly female watched the both of you from her living room window of the ground floor apartment, eyes scanning for any information she could gather on Azriel, he felt oddly bare at the sight. 

“Ignore her, she’s as old as the dust that falls from the stalactites-” You laughed, noticing Azriels slight discomfort “-she’s probably just judging me for bringing a male near my home”

“Ah so your judgemental state is a taught behaviour” You shoved him playfully from the pavement step.

“Is yours?” You laughed, rocking back and forth on the balls of your feet, unsure as to why you couldn’t walk away yet.

“A consequence of my pompous surroundings” You tilted your head in question to his joking reply. 

“Walk with me some more?” He offered his elbow for you to take, your hands finding your hips.

“What are you doing?”

“What?” He laughed, scarf slipping slightly.

“You come to the hotel with a steady string of females, pay and leave. I’m not going to join the string of females who wonder where their knight with the dazzling eyes is gone the next morning”

“Aw you think my eyes are dazzling?” You shoved his obscured goofy face fully from the step, Azriel unable to keep himself from laughing. 

“I think that it's a wonder no one has strangled you with that scarf yet” You began walking without full consciousness of the decision, Azriel happily following suit. 

“It helps me to remain mysterious”

“Helps you look stupid” You chuckled, arms folding into your chest to fight off the cold. Azriel slipped from his jacket without your full awareness. You leapt slightly at the feeling of it shrouding your shoulders, the intoxicating scent of night-chilled mist and cedar brushing against your senses. You fought away the strange feeling crossing your chest, settling on the warmth of the wool being the cause and nothing else. 

“Are these the moves you put on all your females?”

“Oh, if I was using the moves, you’d know all about it, honey”

“YN”

“You’d know all about it, YN, honey” You rolled your eyes continuing on your course with no final destination. You both walked around in a new sense of comfortable silence peppered with small snippets of one another's lives until you returned once again to the stoop outside your home. 

“I should probably head in, I have work again in a few hours” The night getting away from the two of you. 

“Of course” Azriel smiled softly beneath the scarf, it showing in his eyes until they landed on the elderly female in the window, still surveying her kingdom of this long-forgotten street. 

“Until next time Smokey”

“Smokey?” You just nodded to the shadows that had appeared around his legs, his dear friends who he normally kept away from him during his escapades had sensed their master's warmth and comfort around you and believed it was time to come back to him, that he was home. 

“Ah yes…until next time Honey” You just smiled softly at him before turning and heading up the steps, Azriel still fixated on you.

“Oh your jacket” You span around to return down the steps with the heaven-sent fabric.

“Oh no, I must have forgotten it, I guess I’ll have to come back for it” He laughed, stopping you in your tracks as he gave a small wave and began his walk back to his family in the Court of Nightmares. You shook your head side to side and found yourself laughing, eyes landing on your elderly neighbour who remained watching. 

“Mind your business Mags!” You called towards her knowing look before slipping inside. 

—-------------------------------

Over the next number of weeks, Azriel made his usual pilgrimage to the hotel, but unlike normal, he was now accompanied by no one else. He arrived at the beginning of your shift to keep you company and found himself walking you home after each clock-out. He resigned himself to keep his identity obscured, for fear it would send you running in fear or disgust. You spoke freely of your ideas to change the City for the better and your plans for the future, the other side of the mountain. Azriel found himself more forthcoming with the details of his life, identifiable clues excluded still however. Your walks around Hewn City were quickly becoming both of your favourite times in the week, missing one another when you were gone, denying it when you were together.

“And then I locked him out of the cabin naked” Your laugh at Azirel’s story practically filled the streets of the city. 

“I’ve only heard brutal stories about the Illyrian mountains but I swear you make it sound like an enjoyable time”

“I have brutal stories too” He joked, your smile faltering. 

“Tell me those” Azriel looked towards your soft expression, it glowing in the faelights of the usual route home you took together. 

“My brothers and I, were torn apart from one another during the Blood Rite, forced to find our way to one another, we did unspeakable things to reach the summit, I’m afraid I’ve done a lot of unspeakable things in my life” his gaze fixated on the cobblestone in front of him as he walked, fighting away memories of a time he tirelessly tried to disown from his mind. You looked at his furrowed face before instinctively finding your hand in his, lacing your fingers through his deepest insecurity, his mind screaming at him to let go but his heart wanting nothing of the sort. 

“What you do in survival shouldn’t decide who you are in the sun”

“I like that” He found a subtle smile grow beneath the scarf again, his hand squeezing yours to test if the contact was all a lie. 

“Unless you’ve like killed a puppy or something then you can burn in that same sun” You laughed, Azriel’s hazel eyes rolling in their socket. 

“And tell me who are you in the sun, Honey?”

“I don’t know, mountain, remember?” You gestured up to the solid ceiling miles and miles above you, Azriel shaking his head in apology, an idea crossing his mind, stopping you both on your stroll. 

“Cover your eyes” You scoffed but found yourself obeying him, your hand leaving his left a chill in him he wished to smother again. He took a deep breath before snaking a hand around your waist and pulling you tight to his side, an electric pulse shooting down the two of you at the closer contact. Azriel looked to his shadowy friends, a now frequent attendee of your time together unable to pull against the magnetic force you applied to them. He swirled the two of you in shadow, pulling you through the space he created until you were taken from where you stood to land with him gently on the top of the mountain, in the Moonstone Palace. The whole motion was so painfully gentle, you felt as though you hadn’t moved from the spot you left. Azriel stood in front of you, pulling your hands delicately from your face, the wash of light hitting you causing you to squint. 

“Open Honey” His serene tone filled you with the same warmth the rising sun provided. Your mouth hung agape as you looked through the glass of the gigantic windows on the top of the Night Court, the sun beginning to stretch its limbs over the gloriously harsh landscape. You rattled a nervous laugh out, looking quickly from Azriel back to the astonishing view. You found your feet taking a step back, the sudden vastness of the space in front of you almost suffocating in its airiness. 

“You’re as beautiful in the sun as you are in the shadow” Azriel spoke with a level of apprehension he hadn’t felt around you before, afraid he’d overwhelmed you into a state of trepidation.

“I-I-I” You couldn’t manage the words, the sprawling scene stealing syllables as they formed. 

“Who’s that?” Both you and Azriel shook in alarm at the voice, Azriel thinking his family were in Velaris. Feyre stood at the end of the very long dining room looking between the both of you. 

“Azriel?” Your head flew in his direction at the first mention of his name you had heard, he balled his fists at his side, cringing his face upward before releasing the tension again. Azriel pulled the scarf that had become like his very own flesh from his face. You took another step back from him, his face rivalling the staggering beauty of the other side of the glass. 

“Hello?” Feyre tried again with a laugh, your head darting back to her as she closed in, you sank immediately to the ground in a deep bow.

“YN, it's okay” Azriel whispered down to you, you unsure if you would faint on your way back to your full height or not. 

“Ah YN, the lovely lady who keeps our equally lovely Az away from us” She reached your shadow, a hand outstretched to help you stand again. You shot upright in front of her, unable to find any words. 

“I thought you were at home Feyre?” 

“And I thought I was High Lady and could go wherever I want Az?-” She laughed in reply, your eyes boring into the ground in practised submission “-Don’t worry YN, we’re not all pompous assholes like your dear Az” your head shooting back to hers, a playful smile decorating her delicate features. 

“My-Your-I-I”

“Feyre, if you could give us a moment” She only nodded to the Spymaster before making her exit as quietly as she had made her entrance. 

“Are you okay, Honey?” Azriel spoke with the candour of someone trying to talk a baby deer into not running away from a hunter. His uncharacteristically shaky hand reached for you before he guided you to sit in a grand dining room chair, your brain fogging slightly from the altitude. Azriel crouched afore you, his hand not leaving yours as it landed in your lap, your eyes searching the hazel eyes you were learning to call home.

“I-I can’t bel- I don’t understa- We were grossly undercharging you at the hotel” You managed, Azriel’s laughing singing in your ears, his thumb tracing circles around the back of your hand.

“We can rectify that I’m sure”

“Are these- Are these-”

“The mountains above Hewn City? Yes, this is a small sliver of the world I want to show you” He beamed up, your utter shock dripping away as the return of the comfort he gave you flooded back, his shadows swaddling your ankles.

“I was going to say are these the moves but yeah sure let's go with that” You found your panicked laughter changing to match the lightness washing through your chest, Azriel chuckling. 

“You’re the first female I’ve brought home…probably obvious by Feyre’s reaction”

“Fe-Feyre, the High Lady of Night Court, you call Feyre, like she’s anyone”

“You should hear what I call the Lord of the Night Court” His joking tone pushed away the draining colour in your face, the flush of unadulterated happiness returning. 

“What is happening right now?” Your laughter was almost hysterical, Azriel stood again, pulling you up to his chest. 

“I can bring you back below if you’d like-” You walked back towards the window again, captivated by the scenes “-Or, or I could show you more of my world? You’ve been so kind in showing me yours” 

“I have work” You found yourself saying before turning back to see his confused face and then bursting into laughter.

“What the fuck I have work” You couldn’t stop laughing, Azriel joining the sound as his hands caught your forearms. 

“Well, I did leave my jacket at your place, I have every reason to continue forgetting to collect it” You chuckled against his chest, his arms tracing their way across your back, his chin resting on your head. 

“I’m gonna be another one of you Honies aren’t I?” You looked up through your lashes, a laugh continuing to leave you

“You’re the only one I want to call Honey” His thumb traced circles on your cheeks as he leaned down to kiss you in sweetness, night-chilled mist and cedar swirling into the undeniable taste of honey.

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Whatcha think?

[chlorinecake]

If it's possible, could you make a yandere enhypen story, where the reader usually goes out late at night to a convenience store for some late night snacks, but some pervert tries her, but one of the members had been following her and help her, I'm sorry if it doesnt make any sense but yeah...😀 (recently my delusions have been getting to me)

“convenient chances” 🎱 

pairing: stalker!yandere!enhypen x afab!reader

cw: harassment, violence, mentions of smoking, paranoia/anxiety, language, kidnapping, bad-ish ending lol

wc: 3.1k — read part ll and lll here

LIKE A DUNGEON with fear cementing every corner, you struggle to savor the silence in your waking life.

Doubting all and believing none, your close friend Sunoo convinced you that your nervous aches and night sweats were a mere result of paranoia. He always judged the way you’d peek over your shoulder in public as if waiting to be attacked.

Clicking sounds from your window startled your rest during the night, with nightmares of seven tall hooded strangers blinding your judgement.

You're sure everyone's experienced the phenomenon of “gaze perception” at least once in their lives, in which a person might sense or assume that a pair of predatory eyes are stalking them from afar.

You didn’t like to use the word trauma to define your past experiences, but this wasn’t your first time feeling like a cloud of trouble waited to pour down on you. At this point, all you could do was hope that your intuition wasn’t right this time.

It was only a few months ago when you broke up with your abusive ex-boyfriend, Jay. The memories still linger as if they occurred yesterday, freshly cryptic in your mind. From your point of view, he started off as a charming casual acquaintance, which soon developed into a crush and then a toxic relationship. He outlined a list of rules for you to follow when he was away, ordering you around like a child. Anytime you even came close to breaking one of his orders, he’d beat the shit out of you, saying that his rage was out of love.

From Jay’s point of view, you weren’t just an obsession, but a belonging—his favorite humanoid toy to play with. He threatened that if you ever left him, he’d come back for you one day, saying that he’d never stop watching you.

And so, you moved. Not far, but a good distance away. You didn’t feel protected anymore in your usual environment. Though, there was one place in which you felt completely safe—free from watchful eyes and hostile hands. It was the tatty old convenience store a few blocks from where you live. The place hadn’t developed much since what appeared to be a decade or two ago, but they always supplied the most tasty, high quality snacks you could get your hands on.

As silly as it may sound, the fallout shop was your haven, and you grew particularly fond of shopping there late at night when it was less crowded.

You walked passed the familiar electronic doors, the fluorescent ceiling lights sparkling off of the bleach-mopped tiles. The usually uplifting radio station was replaced with the chilling whoosh of air circulating through the vents.

“Hello! Welcome to Goldman’s 24-hour convenience,” a friendly accented voice chimed. “Hello,” you returned with a nod, a bit confused by the new face. The usual cashier was an elder women by the name of Mandy. Her laughter alone could make some of your darkest nights glimmer again.

The young man wore a name tag on his dark blue collared shirt: Jake. You couldn’t help but wonder why Mandy wasn’t working her usual night shift, but you didn’t care enough to interrogate the seemingly content boy.

Picking up a hand basket, you explored the aisle's shelves in search for something savory or sweet to snack on. Your gaze swiveled ahead of you before landing on the sight of two hooded strangers blocking your path. This time, a bit of their faces showed, revealing the devious smirks that spoke so many silent words through their sealed lips:

You can run, but you can’t hide from us, ____. For as long as we live, you’re not allowed to feel safe anywhere.

Goosebumps sprouted on the surface of your skin, nerves dancing around in your fingers until they became wobbling rods. It’s almost like you forgot to breathe due to the overwhelming terror, feeling frozen from within as the plastic basket slipped from your grasp, a loud clatter echoing throughout the store.

You remembered all of the horrible things Jay said he would do to you once he found you again. The bruises you concealed with makeup that Jay referred to as his "strawberry kisses” would have nothing on what you felt was coming your way.

“Are you okay, miss?” A kind male voice asked, snatching you from your trance and back to reality. You turned to meet the man behind you, revealing his concerned yet warm features. He picked up the basket you dropped, still processing that your mind successfully tricked you into seeing something that wasn’t actually there.

“Yes, I’m alright, t-thank you,” you smiled but it didn’t reach your eyes, looking more awkward than reassuring.

He pressed three finger's against your forehead, “I don’t think you’re being honest with me,” he frowned, your hot and damp forehead telling him that something was wrong. “I’m sorry, I haven’t even introduced myself yet,” he stuck out one hand for you to shake and the other to pass you back your basket. “My name is Heeseung,” he smiled, “I’m new in town with an affinity for convenience stores.”

“____, with an affinity to drop flimsy baskets in public,” you replied, suddenly feeling at ease from the humor. You started trailing to the ramen section and Heeseung was walking behind you. If it wasn’t for his kindness earlier, you’d probably be freaking out about how close he was. You reached for a spicy udon noodle pack that came with dehydrated tofu and seaweed sheets. Meanwhile, Heeseung grabbed a can of Spam and chicken flavored ramen.

“Speaking of your liking for convenience stores, I come here almost every night and I’ve never seen you before.“

“Well, yeah, I’m usually here earlier in the day. I just happened to need some gas and got hungry while waiting, so I decided to stop by for my favorites,” he peered into your basket, "You might wanna get some milk with those, too. It's ungodly how spicy they are!"

"I know, right? They're just so delicious, I can't resist them..."

"Still, Sapporo Ichiban instant noodles are the best! They always cook perfectly. Never too soft or too firm. It's my comfort food, honestly. I wanna hug the person who created them," he replied passionately.

"Eh, you're just gonna ruin 'em anyways."

He gave you a double look, "Are you passively judging my cooking skills or fat shaming me?"

"Neither. I'm shaming that pink block of salt you're gonna punish your organs with."

He scoffed, "This anti-Spam movement is outrageous! I'm starting an online protest where you'll be the number one convert."

"As if I'd ever try that...stuff," you rejected.

"Welp. More for me, I guess," he mumbled, digging into his jacket pocket.

“Dammit, I forgot my wallet in my car,” he said, placing his basket high up on the shelf. “If you see anyone try to take my stuff, kick ‘em in the shin for me,” he said before running out of the shop.

Analyzing your surroundings, you noticed that a few groups of shoppers and some solo snackers began raiding the bread aisle. You distracted yourself by heading to the refrigerator section, considering Heeseung’s recommendation of getting a smooth beverage to accompany your spicy noodles, tossing in a pack of strawberry flavored Pocky's on your way.

That’s when you felt an arm wrap around your waist, pulling you in before giving your head a sniff, his nose was wet and cold like a dog as he inhaled your scent. “What the hell are you doing?” You barked, pushing the creepy stranger away.

He was a middle aged man with a receding hairline and a few scars decorating his thin chapped lips. You wondered how many of those scares came from women he tried that “arm around the waist” shit on.

“Sorry, doll. I’m a hugger and figured you might've needed one,” he grinned, revealing the gnarly set of teeth that lined his grey gums. You couldn't tell if it was his foul breath or filthy clothes that smelled more like smoke. Either way, you were thoroughly disgusted by him.

“Well, you should learn to ask before throwing yourself on people,” you retorted, reaching for a container of banana milk.

“You like swallowing bananas, cutie? I bet I could force four of 'em down that pretty mouth of yours,” he slithered while adjusting himself in his pants.

What the hell is wrong with this guy, you thought to yourself.

You tried to ignore his lunacy, only for him to grip your ass like a stress ball, landing a harsh slap across the curve of your jeans. You yelped at the sting, your own words being caught in your throat from the shocking act. You couldn’t believe that this freak actually just did that to you.

He met your eyes with a wink, smelling his hand as if you just provided him with an expensive perfume sample, "You got a lover at home, sweetheart?"

Tears dared to pour from your rage-ridden eyes as you balled your fists so tight, your bones might break. That's when a protective figure filled your blurry peripheral vision, stepping in front of you to block the man off as he tried grabbing you again, pushing him with such a force that he lost his balance.

“The hell do you think you’re doing, y'scrawny mother fucker,” he growled, pulling up is pants.

“You can’t do that kind of sick shit to people, pervert! Now get the hell outta here or I'll call the police,” the younger boy fought back.

“I was just trying to have some fun, kiddo. Ain’t nothin' wrong with that. I bet honey doll misses me already,” the older man went on, licking at his lower lip.

“I’ll knock every last rotting tooth from your mouth if you don’t leave in the next five seconds-"

“Hey, what’s going on over here?” Jake asked in the middle of the commotion, the older man already fleeing the scene. Jake looked at the younger boy first before eventually meeting your eyes. You wish you could hide how shaken up you felt. The container of milk was bleeding out its strong banana scent on the once spotless floor, tears finally streaming down your cheeks.

“Oh my God, Jungwon, what happened,” Heeseung came running over, asking the boy who defended you. “It was nothing,” you interrupted before Jungwon could answer, the three boys standing dumbfounded around you in a puddle of banana milk. “Do you need a ride-" “Don’t worry about me,” your voice cracked in embarrassment.

Is there any way to explain how the world made you ashamed of your own tears?

You left your basket behind, apologizing to Jake who had to clean up the sticky mess. You didn’t wanna leave just yet, afraid that the older guy might be waiting for you outside, so you went to the ladies restroom instead to call your friend Sunoo.

“____?”

You cleared the lump in your throat before answering, “Sunoo,” you began shakily, “I need you to come and pick me up from Goldman's.”

“You sound terrible, is everything okay? You’re worrying me, what happened?”

“I’m sorry, Sun. Everything’s okay, I just really need you right now.”

“____,” he sighed. You suddenly felt guilty for even calling him.

“Sunoo, if you can’t make it, I won’t be mad at you,” you said in between the silence, trying to encourage him to make a choice.

“I-I can’t, well, I can, but, not soon, at least. I’m only an hour away, if you’re willing to wait that long.” The pity in his voice made you wanna cry all over again. Looking at the time on your phone, it was six minutes til midnight, and you refused to haul your best friend out on the road this late. “No, that’s alright, Sunoo. I’ll just call an Uber.”

His side of the phone fell quiet for a moment. “____, I know how much you hate Uber's. Don't do that to yourself because of me."

"I'll be okay, Sun, just get yourself some rest."

He paused before asking, "Are you sure?”

“Yeah. I’ll talk to you later, okay?”

“Of course! Call me when you get home!”

You finished up in the bathroom, mentally preparing yourself to face the strangers beyond the not-so-comforting walls of the restroom. To your surprise, Heeseung and Jungwon were still in the store. Huddled around Jake at the checkout counter, the three of them took loud sips from steaming cups of ramen. “Hey, ____,” Heeseung began, resting his snack on the counter. “We could help you file a report against that guy, if you want.”

Jungwon met your eyes with his own sincere ones, “He should pay for the way he treated you.” Jake put your basket from earlier on the counter, dry items taking the place of the previously wet ones.

“Do you still want these," he asked shyly. After everything that happened, you felt empty in more than one way. Some warm broth and noodles is exactly what your body needed at the moment. You nodded, handing Jake a $20 bill. Beeping sounds immediately met your ears as he scanned your items with a strange haste. You looked back to Heeseung and Jungwon.

“Getting the police involved will only make it harder for me to forget this ever even happened. Thank you for your concern, though,” you smile at the humble pair before they took the final gulps from their ramen cups before discarding them.

“Here’s your change,” Jake chirped, handing you the plastic bag of goodies. “Thank you,” you bowed, heading to the exit.

“Y'sure you don't need a ride?” Jungwon asked. You flashed him your phone screen. “Uber,” was all you said before walking into the black of the night, the sliding doors closing behind you.

According to your smartphone, you should expect your chauffeur, Sunghoon, to arrive shortly in a black truck with tinted windows. The vehicle came speeding through the parking lot, a chill wind hitting your features. The truck was so dark, that it almost blended into the night. He rolled down the window, looking you up and down.

"Name?"

"Uh, ____," you said, his blunt question catching you off guard.

"Get in," he replied, directing a thumb to the back seat, unlocking the door as you slid in, bumping into another passenger. Immediately caught by his dark eyes, the boy waved slightly, muttering a deep “Welcome aboard,” before fixing his gaze out the window again. The truck sat idly as Sunghoon delayed taking off, exchanging a few hushed words to the guy sitting in the front passenger's seat.

Click.

The backseat doors opened from both ends, Heeseung, Jungwon, and Jake joining you in the black vehicle. "Scoot over, Niki," Jungwon complained, trying to get comfortable in the crammed space. That's when you saw one last person join you all in the truck, his face capturing the moonlight like a thief.

"Sunoo?! W-what are you doing here? I thought you were an hour away!" All he did was frown in response. He always made that face whenever he was hiding something from you. "Sunoo," you pressed, nudging his shoulder.

"Oh please, would you just shut the hell up already," the hostile driver growled at you.

You screwed your eyes brows in confusion, "What's going on here," you inquired, now feeling anxiety start to creep up on you.

"The very thing I warned you about before you abandoned me," the front passenger bit back.

That voice. You knew exactly who it belonged to.

It was Jay, your looney ex-lover, sitting right in front of you. An angry yet pitiful scowl contaminated his handsome features.

You pushed through Heeseung, reaching for the door handle, only for Niki, the quietest yet scariest one, to snatch your wrist, pulling you into his tantalizing grip. "Let me go," you yelped, only for Jungwon to harshly cover your mouth.

Screech.

Sunghoon pulled off at a dangerous speed, causing your bodies to shake in the truck. Heeseung crossed his legs cooly as if he wasn't just casually talking with you in the store, “So when do we get to have fun with her, again? It’s not like she did any good entertaining me through conversation.”

Jake rolled his eyes at Heeseung, “I could’ve used your enthusiasm when I had to stuff that fat old chick in the freezer. Alone. On top of that, I had to mop the floor quintillion times before the blood stains got out.”

“At least you’d make a good house husband,” Sunghoon joked.

You felt your heart sink to the pit of your stomach at Jake’s confession: He killed Mandy.

"I'm sorry, ____," Sunoo whispered, fighting back tears as he hid his face from you.

Everything was starting to make sense now.

The visions of seven hooded boys.

The clicking sounds you'd hear from outside your window at night.

The way you could never shake the feeling that you were being watched.

Jay’s past words echoed in the back of your mind:

"If you ever decide to leave me, don't ever think that you'll get very far before I catch up. I'll always be watching you."

You bit Jungwon's hand, causing him to retreat his palm from your flushed face. "Sunoo, you betrayed me! You told me that I was paranoid when you knew exactly what was going on behind my back! I felt safe with you...I trusted you! And you fucking lied to me!"

"God, I've had just about enough of her nagging," Niki said, landing a fisted blow across your face. As you faded out of consciousness, Jay tried to soothe your daze.

“Even though I betrayed you and beat you, it was only my funny way of expressing how much I love you. Can’t you see that I did all of that out of love?”

You could still hear Sunoo pleading for your forgiveness in the background as you held onto the last strand of your consciousness.

"I've been watching you for a long time, love. You always try to escape me and I never understood why you just wouldn't listen to me. All I've ever done is love you and try to protect you. This time, I’ll make sure you’ve learned your lesson.”

And that was the last thing you heard before retreating to the vacancy of your mind, floating around in the silence of your oblivion. Left in the hands of seven reckless boys who’d successfully lured you into their cat trap, you didn’t know what to expect once you’d open your eyes, but you knew it wouldn’t be anything good.

In that time, you came to the unsettling conclusion that broken toys were Jay’s favorite, and if you weren’t already broken upon being found, you would be by time he’s done playing with you.

☆ ᴀ/ɴ: in no way, shape, or form does this fanfic intend to romanticize unhealthy relationships or abusive behaviors. i simply write for entertainment and creative purposes. thus, reader discretion is always advised.

☆ ᴘ.ꜱ: special thanks to the fabulous anon who requested this piece! i played around with the plot a bit, but I hope you all enjoyed reading it! if you guys would like a version of this story with a happier ending, let me know in the comments!

☆ taglist (based off of users that personally requested to be on my taglist, my faves, and people that I've noticed interacting with my yandere content) ~

@fanficfactoryfoxxx @ashgonedash @yourmomscuntis2tighy @yngwife @03sunoos @kaykay11sworld @maryismad @gigiramirezsblog @hoonsyo @en-thralled @haechansheart @night-en-shining-armor @cutiejseong

[bottlesandbarricades]

The Hour of Ghosts

Summary: A short story exploring the supernatural consequences of the Dance of the Dragons. Word Count: 2961 Warnings: Major spoilers for House of the Dragon season 2 / Fire & Blood, Major Character Deaths, Suicide, Mental Illness, Violence, Graphic Injury, Spooky Themes A/N: Hello! This is my first time writing something hotd-related and is essentially my coming-out-of-writing retirement fic to ease myself back into writing. Big thank you to @beaconofthehightower for pushing me to finish this and @dreamymoomin for beta reading. Anyway, I hope you enjoy my silly little ghost story 👻

The Dance of the Dragons left deep scars on the Seven Kingdoms, political and otherwise. Although the literal stench of death was vigorously scrubbed clean, the stains remained, ingrained into the very fibre of the people and the world left behind.

The battered, burnt banner of fire, blood and loss hung over the ruins of a once noble house. Hastily patched and practically mended with rough hands attempting to salvage what remained of House Targaryen and restore order to the realm. The bitterness of it all stuck to the tongue like ashes in your mouth - it had been for nothing.

No one had won; everyone had lost.

The generations to come would debate the facts and wage their own war with words, for and against each side’s claim in volume after volume of biassed histories. Others would simply gloat with the gift of hindsight, suggesting that those involved should have foreseen that a war of kin slaying kin and dragon fighting dragon would never have had a glorious victor.

As the years passed, the memories of the war faded from the sharp, throbbing string of freshly cut wounds to aching battle scars. Moving into that part of the collective memory, where the lines between fact and legend become murky and confused. Truths became as tangible as wisps of smoke from an open hearth, sewn together with the thread of imagination by every wet nurse in Westeros.

Something haunted these lands - collective trauma manifesting and twisting into tales of ghosts, ghouls and fantasm.

From the North shore of the God's Eye, where the blackened ruins of Harrenhal sit decaying, it is said that some evenings as the sun drops below the Western horizon, a high-pitched whistle can be heard in the wind. A piercing unnatural sound that makes the blood in your veins run cold.

To the native smallfolk, this sound is a well-known harbinger, a sign to shutter your windows tightly and turn in for the night - less you wish to glimpse something eerie illuminated in the moonlight over the inky black water.

The story goes that the shrill sound of Prince Daemon's mount, Caraxes, is always followed, even on the clearest of nights, by a rumbling like thunder, so loud that it sends ripples through the lake - the roar of the once mighty war dragon, Vhagar.

Phantom snarls shake the ground, hailing the infinite clash between the Blood Wyrm and the she-ancient dragon of the one-eyed Prince, Aemond Targaryen.

The sound of wings that no longer beat and gnashing jaws that have long since crumbled to dust echo for dozens of miles. Sparks of white-hot dragon fire gone cold reflected in the water below. As spectral flashes of red and bronzy green scales appear against the colourless void of night, weaving and merging like a coil of translucent serpents, struggling and writhing for dominance.

Shades of memory replay - Caraxes’ jaw locked tight around the larger dragon's throat, as Vhagar clawed, bit, and ripped in bloody retaliation. Tearing scales from flesh, and flesh from bone with the ease of Valyrian steel.

However, most unnerving are the two pale princes themselves mounted on the ghastly long dead beasts, as silver as their hair was in life, both gaunt with death and cadaverous to the eye. Sallow skin pulled taut over their skeletal faces, cheeks stained with tracks of red from bloody tears, which ran from sunken eyes.

Two souls destined to be locked in a battle for eternity, forever to play out their mutually assured destruction. The elder fated to leap from his dying mount and drive his blade of moonlight into the younger’s skull - again and again overlooked by Black Harren’s accursed seat.

A sickening and frightening spectacle for mortal eyes to perceive, yet in the absence of fear you might say there was a chilling beauty to the scene. Always to end the same way - poetically some would say - in fire and blood.

To the south, high above the city of King’s Landing upon Aegon’s Hill, the mighty Red Keep plays host to many ghosts of its own. This is no surprise as many people would wager that enough blood had been spilt within its walls over the years to fill the Blackwater. The castle is plagued by ghouls from across the ages, some from the days of the conqueror, himself.

Folk could pass many a long winter’s night recalling the countless tragedies of that castle and those who were said to remain there. It appeared that this war of dancing dragons only added to that grisly spectral collection.

It is Maegor’s Holdfast, where servants don't dare linger alone and guards dread to be posted in fear of hearing her. The whisper of phantom sobbing that murmurs just beyond the reach of your ears or more terribly ghoulish shrieks of anguish that grasp your throat with fear and settle in your chest. It is the sound of grief-driven madness consuming a gentle, yet tortured soul.

Even as the years passed, the agony of Queen Helaena’s bereavement was palpable, the sounds of her anguished cries were enough to drive anyone to madness. They consumed you, drowning you in sorrow and dragging you down with suffocating melancholy.

Some say that Helaena’s haunting was part of what drove her Mother, the Dowager Queen Alicent Hightower to her own derangement in the years following the war.

Tormented, not only by the loss of her three sons but also by the cries and whimpers of her dead daughter, which echoed off the pale red stone. Confined within the very same walls that had been sweet Helaena’s home turned prison in the last half year of her life before she had flung herself from the window to her death, impaled on the spikes below.

Alicent Hightower had been harshly punished for her sins. The feeling of being trapped, one way or another, had been a constant companion throughout her life. Yet it seemed being locked away, like her daughter before her, was the final straw.

No needle and thread nor book could save her sanity.

She spent her time attempting to converse with people unseen, sickened by the colour green and longing to hold and comfort her dearest babe in distress whom, like the rest of her children Alicent could no longer picture the face of.

On her deathbed, it appeared that the raging fever quieted the madness and allowed for moments of clarity and reflection for the Queen in chains. As expected, Alicent spoke at length of her regrets and confessed her transgressions. It seemed for the first time in a very long time, Alicent Hightower was at peace.

“I want to see my sons again.” Alicent had said, as her life ebbed away. “And Helaena, my sweet girl.”

The Septa who sat in vigil over Queen Alicent that night, failed to mention everything that happened in the final hours of Alicent’s life in her official account. What the poor woman had witnessed as the rain lashed against the castle windows had left her shaken, clutching her seven-pointed star so tightly that each corner had left tiny cuts on her palms and fingers.

At the hour of the wolf, the Stranger had come for Alicent Hightower, but it appeared death was not alone.

The Queen’s breaths had become shallower and shallower until finally, the death rattle had set in. It was then that an eerie coldness filled the bed chamber, at odds with the raging fire in the grate. Gooseflesh prickled across the Septa’s skin as the chill engulfed her. A cold so biting that she could feel it seep through the numerous layers of her coarse linen robes.

It was strange and unnatural.

With an abrupt rush of wind, the fire was extinguished from the hearth. Snuffing out her last fragile defence against the fear that had suddenly taken hold of her. The room was consumed by darkness and the Septa’s only solace now was a handful of low-burning candles clinging to their flame within the bedside lantern.

She knew she should move; she should attempt to rekindle the logs that smouldered in the fireplace or call out to the guard on the door and yet she could not. Instead, she sat frozen in her chair and was forced to bear witness.

Between the hammering of her own heart, the rasping breaths of the dying Queen and the rain that pounded relentlessly at the window panes, it was hard for the Septa to hear them at first.

The voices started softly and indistinct, like overhearing a conversation in another room, but grew louder and more coherent with each passing moment. Till it was as if they were in the very bed-chamber itself.

Initially, she believed they were children’s voices due to their high and melodic quality. However, as the Septa strained her ears to hear, she soon realised these voices chopped and changed in tone with every few syllables, distorting into a heavier and deeper pitch and then swiftly returning to a higher register.

Stricken with fright, all she could do was listen. Discerning that the voices seemed more masculine than feminine, the Septa tried to focus on distinguishing meaning in the sea of words as the voices continuously talked over each other.

Then she heard it, the common thread. One word was repeated over and over.

“Mother.”

The realisation was scalding, in sharp contrast to the icy air that surrounded her. The Septa’s initial instincts were correct; these were the voices of children - Alicent’s children.

The blinding clarity only seemed to make the voices grow louder. Becoming more frantic and fractured, flicking rapidly between youth and maturity. It was chaotic and confusing, as if years of memories were trying to compress themselves into a single moment. Blurry, broken and half-remembered.

“Where are you, my loves? I can’t see you.” Came the weakened voice from the bed between laboured gasps.

The Septa’s eyes had now adjusted to the dark and she watched in horror as she began to notice the movement of unnatural shapes forming in the gloom.

Hearing them was one thing, but seeing them was another.

Twisting and bending, the four misshapen figures that manifested could not decide what they wished to embody. They shifted in stature and years in the same disturbing manner as their voices, morphing from adult to child and back again.

They crowded the bed, tugging at the bedclothes as they had once tugged at Alicent’s skirts in life, so many years ago. All the while their voices kept on calling for her. It was too much to bear.

This fresh wave of alarm seemed to bring the Septa to her senses and she did the only thing she knew she could. She began to pray, hands clasped together around her seven-pointed star. Shutting her eyes tightly as she recited the words, she wished to hear no more, to see no more.

Time seemed stagnant as each minute that slipped by felt like ten. The Septa focused on her prayers, drawing comfort from the words she knew so well. The familiarity shielding her from the ghoulish sights and sounds around her.

Until all of a sudden, she felt a shift in the air and the voices were gone, fading just as fast as they had come. A balmy glow now beckoned through her closed eyelids.

There was light and warmth as the fire returned to the grate. The logs were ablaze once again, heat flooding the room and banishing the chill which had consumed it.

The Septa took a shaky breath before daring to open her eyes, taking a moment to bask in the feeling of being warm and alive in the peaceful, blessed silence.

As the rain pattered softly against the glass, she realised the storm had passed, along with Alicent Hightower.

Across the water, clinging to the face of the volcano known as Dragonmont, sits the fortress of Dragonstone. A place of salt, smoke and brimstone. The ancestral seat of House Targaryen, a relic of Old Valyria forged by dragonfire and the forgotten magic of Dragonlords.

This castle was the grim and eerie backdrop where some say Aegon II claimed victory over his half-sister, the Black Queen. A hollow and costly victory, which hardly tipped the scales in the face of all that he had lost.

One final petulant jab in this bloody squabble.

Though accounts from both sides of the warring factions differ on many things, they find common ground on one exchange, which took place upon Rhaenyra’s arrival from King’s Landing to find herself betrayed and Aegon in situ.

“Dear Brother, I had hoped you were dead.” Rhaenyra called out at the sight of Aegon’s half-charred and twisted form. Delighted by the small triumph of his injuries and satisfied that even though she would almost certainly die at his hand, Aegon would spend the rest of his days bearing scars done in her name.

“After you. You are the elder.” King Aegon spat back with a pained grin, his jaw clenched hard as he fought to hide the agony that coursed throughout his broken body. He had refused milk of the poppy out of the fear of poisoning and paid tenfold for it.

“I am pleased to know that you remember that.” Rhaenyra replied.

Now friendless and at the mercy of the enemy, Rhaenyra Targaryen was forcefully separated from her son. Little did those present know that once the dust of conflict had finally settled, this child would in fact be King in his own right. But, for now, he was just a boy.

A boy forced to watch his Mother die.

The Realm’s Delight was served up to Aegon’s dragon, Sunfyre, who bathed her in red-hot dragonfire. As the flames consumed her, Rhaenyra raised her head skywards and shrieked out one last curse.

What didn't burn, was swiftly devoured. The final memorial to the Half-Year Queen being nothing more than the scorch marks left on the ancient flagstones.

The words and meaning of Rhaenyra’s dying curse are lost to time, but many suspect it was the root cause for the strange happenings that followed.

It started at the site of her killing, a peculiar sweltering heat rising from the stone for which there was no logical source. Those foolish enough to dare place their hand on the blackened marks themselves would come away harshly burned in searing pain. A mere moment's touch brought about hideous blisters that bubbled on the skin and left the surrounding flesh charred and cracked.

Then came the sightings, it was said that if you ventured to cross the courtyard in the dead of night you may catch a glimpse of the Black Queen herself.

A haunting apparition composed of swirling smoke and glowing embers. The flaming skirts of her gown twirled around her as long silver-gold hair burned bright like white hot iron. Flames licked around her once beautiful face, now reduced to nothing but ash and a pair of hollow eyes.

The smell of burning flesh and brimstone filled the air as an aura of blistering heat that radiated around her form, shimmering and distorting. No words came from her blackened mouth, only thick, choking smoke as she silently screamed, leaving trails of cinders in her wake as she stalked the castle grounds.

Rhaenyra Targaryen conveyed her displeasure through the flame, which had been her demise. Burning anything to which her spirit took offence. Newly hung tapestries were known to spontaneously combust and seven pointed stars melted in their holders.

She may not have held the Seven Kingdoms or sat the Iron Throne, but it was clear that Dragonstone was her domain and even in death she would remain its mistress.

As the decades passed, it appeared her restless soul seemed to quieten - the sudden fires becoming less frequent and sightings fewer and fewer. Till the tales of her spectre had become nothing more than a story to frighten children.

Theories to the reason for this change were in the dozens, some claiming that a young brave Septon had been to Dragonstone and bravely banished the fiery ghoul from the castle, casting her down to the Seven Hells where she belonged.

Others believe her spirit's suddenly passive nature was linked to an even greater shift, something was changing for House Targaryen itself. Where the air of Dragonstone had once been thick with Valyrian enchantment there seemed to be rot.

Their magic was dying, eroding away further and further with each generation.

People once said that the Targaryens were closer to Gods than men and yet it would seem that the sin of the dance had angered something much older and much crueller than the deity of several aspects worshipped by the faith of the Seven.

This was something ancient and primal that wished to punish them for tearing apart their house with the blessing of dragons that had made them Kings. Many argued that the sins of the Greens and the Blacks were the reason that after the war House Targaryens’ dragons declined, getting smaller and weaker as their power faded with each malformed dragon and unhatched egg.

In the end, the doom of the Targaryen dynasty was inevitable. The damage was done and the dominos would continue to fall uninterrupted. Without their dragons what truly separated them from the other great houses of the Seven Kingdoms?

How long would it be before others saw the mirage for what it was and another contender took their chance for the Iron Throne?

After all, power only resides where men believe it resides. Truth does not matter, only perception and once the illusion of power is extinguished, snuffed out with the dying breath of the last dragon, there is no returning to what once was.

[twobrokenwyngs]

I just saw the ep and oh my goddd, some of this fandom needs to touch grass when it comes to their media. so many of y'all have been watching waaay too many cutesy, sweet, tender, sanitized queer love stories. like, y'all know this isn't Love Simon or some shit, right???

it is so SILLY to act like lestat did this catastrophic out-of-character thing that there's no coming back from. anyone who feels that way has a very disney-fied version of who lestat is in their heads. I realize that the guys have had moments of sweetness and romance but y'all really clung onto that so hard you forgot what show you're actually watching, huh?

please. pull yourselves together. for the following 4 reasons:

he is a spoiled fuck!! he's the brat prince!! he takes what he wants and reacts destructively to not getting his way! the fact that he's been as patient with Louis as he HAS for all these years has been a miracle unto itself. this act has been boiling under the surface and ultimately amounts to no more than a violent temper tantrum befitting of the character

louis! 👏 is! 👏 a! 👏 vampire!!! he's a goddamn immortal being, who is going to completely heal after a good day's sleep lmao. lestat knew that when he laid hands on him! he didn't actually do anything that could kill or maim or otherwise permanently disable louis, he wasn't TRYING to!

they are in a toxic relationship!!! did you guys think that was just an adorable expression? their relationship is fucked up and unhealthy, steeped in coercion and violence and manipulation and a massive power imbalance and literally always has been!!! hello?!!?

this is a tv show. it's a visual medium. it needs to comprise seven hours of compelling, exciting content, it needs to up the ante and take liberties due to the fact that it isn't a book and cannot sustain itself on louis' emotions alone. on top of that, the VAST majority of the violence that occurred still happened offscreen. they struck a perfect balance

so yeah, idk, I have absolutely noooo patience for some of the takes I've seen about this. none at all. either wake up and realize what genre of show this is or see yourself out tbh lol

[wetcatspellcaster]

Thank you for putting into words, Rosalie’s “I was just trying to match your energy”. Because I never had such gentle words for my own experience, and now, it’ll colour my days.

On a lighter note, it was delightful you said that the latest chapter was nice and soft and us readers could take a break from angst. The more you lovingly batter up these two puppies to make a delicious cake, I am here, gorging myself on it. Like, I sometimes lie flat on my bed and contemplate what was happening in Astarion’s mind in “Party Favours” after (1) Rosalie failed to turn up at his house after coming by every day in a month (2) when Shadowheart turned up and he realised - he RAN to - and then (3) when he realised Rosalie dressed up for !! Threnn!! But not him!!

I love your writing, so so much. Wishing you the loveliest day, and for every day to be even lovelier after.

P.s. Should it be pleasing to you, I’d love to know your director’s thoughts of what was going on in Astarion’s mind in Party Favors.

Hello friend!! Thank you for your kind words :)

In response to your question -

Astarion's mindset in Party Favours, a dramatic performance.

Chapter One: oh, Foxglove wants to meet up for lunch! I haven't seen her in 6 weeks, 5 days, and 10.5 hours! time to pretend I don't care at all about her or her silly little wizardry business - ohwaitshesaidshewantstodatemeohgodohno oh wait it's a 'fake dating' situation... i see. time to pretend not to care again. i need to start shopping for suits. she likes it when i wear blue.

Chapter Two: I am going to achieve a good grade in boyfriend, something it is reasonable to want and possible to achieve. (don't have a panic attack, babygirl, you're so sexy and talented. have i mentioned i learned love languages for you?)

Chapter Three: this was my competition! this! she is both absolutely dull, and also awful. she fucking sucks! I hate her! ...I wonder if I could still poison her. I have now admitted that I bought poison with me, so Rosalie would know it was me who did it. I will wait six months, then poison her. Time to go back to getting a good grade in boyfriend.

Chapter Four: I have not been able to charm the pants of Rose, so I will charm the pants of every single one of her coworkers. I'm that bitch. oh no, wizards are hot, even when not casting counterspell. oops, kissed my girlfriend. we're not technically dating yet, but as a magistrate, i think that's mostly an administrative technicality.

Chapter Five: I've got this, I've got this, I've got this, I literally used to seduce people for a living, I've got this-

*followed by just that transition sequence from Twilight: New Moon where the months pass by Bella's window, only Astarion's wearing more eyeliner.*

Chapter Six: Shadowheart has told me Foxglove is in trouble. it's 5 weeks, 3 days, and 19hrs since I last saw her in person, 27hrs since I twitched the curtain aside and caught a glance out of my window at her while she was waiting on the doorstep, but *I'm* mostly doing this out of the kindness of my own heart. oh fuck, I hope I look hot. oh no, wizards are hot, even when not casting counterspell. why does she look sad? oh no. I forgot she was fucking stupid. time to confess my love i guess.

Chapter Seven: error 404 - Astarion not found. *horny static* *horny afterglow static* *dazed 'she said she loved me' static*

Chapter Eight: did I mention I live with my girlfriend now? Yes, we're thriving. Crops? Flourishing. Skin? Clear. Closet? Extradimensional. You fucks all wish you were me. We should get married. No, of course I'm not serious (I'm serious). ok, we'll just fuck in a closet instead. that's fine for now i guess.

[misc-obeyme]

HI HELLO I'M BACK AGAIN. I've been so full of energy the past two days because it's been weirdly slow at work (Calm before the storm ig, grand opening celebration this weekend 😭). Like I spent an hour each on t shirts and yarn on Tuesday, and today I meticulously (?) recovered craft paint, ribbon, and consolidated two displays?? Plus I made a new end cap display?? I WAS BORED OUT OF MY MIND FINDING THINGS TO DO

anyway I'm here to talk about silly things, today being the dinner rotation at the HoL. The retreat in season 1 feels like the first time MC cooks for them?? But seven days in a week, do you think MC took over Belphie's day? I'm assuming Lucifer did at first, or it was used as a punishment to have extra dinner duty.

I feel like Beel and Belphie always cooked together on their days. Like they have their twin telepathy, they're probably passing things back and forth in the kitchen and able to keep each other on task pretty well. Belphie holds his hand out and Beel wordlessly hands him the salt. Belphie knows when to give Beel samples, while also making sure Beel doesn't eat everything. Beel will keep Belphie engaged and on task so that dinner doesn't get burnt. They've got their routine DOWN.

It makes me wonder how MC learned to cook Devildom dishes. Were they shadowing the brothers? Was Lucifer teaching them simple dishes? Were they given a cookbook? (Imagine Satan annotating it with substitutions if an ingredient wasn't human safe.) A list of ingredients that were human safe and told 'good luck'?

Imagine Beel comes into the kitchen on Belphie's days, even after the exchange program starts and MC has taken over. If MC was given a list of ingredients, Beel could probably think of a number of dishes and guide them. And MC would probably be letting Beel sample a ton to make sure they're doing it right.

Maybe this turns into Beel and MC cooking dinner together on their days! MC who wants to learn more dishes, and Beel who wants company. God he's such a sweetheart, I love him so much 😭 Brothers Under A Pact group will always have a special place in my heart.

I've had this idea planned for like three asks ago, but then I had other things I was dying to ramble about. I am currently fighting the parasites (have you heard that audio on tiktok?) to ramble about my mammon x solomon x mc crack ship. and also just in general about mammon (i feel you on the writing essays about your faves) !! i was daydreaming scenarios for both of these things, the second one involving my mc singing along to music AAAA

okay okay I'm done, BYEEE, I hope you have/had a good day!!!

- ✨ anon

Welcome back, ✨ anon! It sounds like work is going well, I hope things go well for the grand opening too!

Oh I'm loving this idea about the cooking rotation... I agree that it seems likely that Beel and Belphie would cook together on their days. And then Beel just shows up when MC takes over because he's so used to it. And then later, when Belphie is there, too, they both spend their time with MC in the kitchen...

I've thought a lot about how MC learns to cook in the Devildom. Because I'm not a terrible cook, but I tend to go with my gut on most things. Like I'll buy a bunch of random ingredients because they sound good. Then I'll follow my heart and make whatever I want.

But I feel like I wouldn't be able to do that if I don't know what the ingredients taste like or how they cook? And like... I've made food for multiple people before, but I've been cooking for one for years, so I think it'd be hard for me to make sure I have enough for seven to eight people!

If they have some ingredients that are basically the same, I could probably get by. But I think I'd have a stretch of time where I would struggle. I'd be like, listen if you guys want edible food, I'm gonna need lessons or a cookbook because otherwise you're getting trial and error until I figure this stuff out.

I really love the idea of Lucifer teaching MC how to cook simple Devildom dishes. That's such a Mom thing for him to do and I think it'd be really cute. I also love the idea of a cookbook annotated by Satan. Like I'm just seeing him scribbling out some ingredient like DO NOT USE THIS IF YOU WANT TO LIVE, MC followed by a list of human safe substitutes lol.

After that, it's all Beel telling MC about dishes he likes and sampling what MC makes as they go. I love that, it's so sweet. And it probably helps him when he's missing Belphie during season one. Aww and then when they're all together, it's just bonding time~

The other brothers probably show up from time to time for MC's cooking shift just to add their own ideas and instructions.

They sometimes get together so they can deliberately obtain human world ingredients to bring MC for their cooking day. Like maybe every time Beel is there (which is all the time lol), he asks MC about their favorite human world dishes. And MC just tells him all about the food they used to make at home. Beel won't forget what MC talks about, so he can tell the others. I'm sure Barbatos has a human world food supplier he uses or something.

Then they leave all the human world ingredients in the kitchen for MC to find 'cause they want to try something that MC would've made in the human world.

Feel free to ramble all you like, you don't have to hold back any parasites! (I had not heard this audio, as I'm not on TikTok a ton, but I went to find it and was entertained lol.) I'm definitely not one to judge about long rambles, that's like every post I create.

[pixies-and-poets]

Of Verses and Curses: Chapter Eleven

Pushed under this expanse of bursting stars Let this burning brightly illuminate the where we are In this hollow that lovers' voices occupy Let it follow that we let it free, let it fly ...

Hold these hearts courageously As we walk into this dark place Stand steadfast erect and see That love is the province of the brave

Author’s notes: This chapter’s long!! But... well, you’ll see why, I guess. A lot of important things. Wow! Hope you like it!!

There’s still at LEAST two chapters left, so you may wonder what could come after this, but, y’know. Stuff. I’m certain nothing bad will happen, right?

Warnings: Still some blood/injury description, but nothing graphic.

Fanon thanks: The idea that ghost Rabbids can keep things in their tails (besides Phantom’s integral gramophone) comes from @deezeyrabbidy​ !

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven - Entwined

When the unlikely duo re-entered the glade, they found Dryad tying the fresh bandages around Woodrow’s head. He had been cleaned off, the blood no longer staining his white fur, and his glassesless eyes were open, if sleepily.

“Hello again, Sweets," he giggled. "Where’s your beaver? And hello to YOU, Songbird… I missed you both.” He gave a little smile.

“Er, is he alright?” Sweetlopek asked. “I ain’t had Chipper with me all day…”

“He’s a bit delirious,” conceded Dryad. “Whether from the bump on the head, or… well, I bade him eat a little bit of an herb to numb the pain and make him drowsy. It should really be made into a tea, but we were in a hurry, here. It might cause strong side-effects in that form.”

The poet closed his eyes, relieved at seeing the other two rejoin him, and turned his head. His tongue popped out a little bit. Phantom felt a surge of warmth and a quake through his body as he suppressed a laugh. He shouldn’t be laughing… and yet it helped drown out the alarm that had seized control of his heart.

“But yes, other than the delirium, I think he’s doing fine,” Dryad finished. “He just needs to be taken to a warm bed now, to rest and recover.”

“Alright,” said the lumberjack. “I’ll take him back home. My house, I mean.”

“No!” cried Phantom, with such passion that it surprised even himself. The other two looked at him in confusion, with the poet still conked out.

“What I mean is…” added the ghost, “May I? May I take care of him? Surely you two are both busy, and I have nothing better to do… and, moreover, nothing I would rather do.”

Sweetlopek looked at Phantom skeptically, but Dryad gave him an encouraging smile. “Yes, I believe we can trust you on this,” she said. Her partner gave her a sidelong glance, to which she returned a stern one. She then motioned her hand over three cases fashioned from large nut-shells, which were lying on the hammock next to the unconscious Woodrow.

“These are the medicines I have prepared.” The leaf-crowned Rabbid picked one up, and opened it; Phantom could see that it was indeed serving as a little container for a pasty green medicine. “You should change his bandages every four hours or so. First clean his wounds completely with fresh water, and then you’ll want to apply this in a thin coat AROUND the wounds, which will help dull the pain…” She put it down, and opened the next nut. “Now, THIS one you’ll need to put on the wounds directly - make sure your hands are clean for this whole process, of course. Do you mind any of that? Blood, or dealing with injuries?”

Phantom had been listening closely, and shook his head. “Not at all. Not for his sake, especially.”

Dryad nodded, and continued. “Don’t mix those two up. And this last one-” she opened the nut to show a collection of small leaves and petals- “this is the tea. Take a big spoonful of these ingredients and brew them, and give it to him as much as he wants or needs. Mind you, it’ll keep him sleepy, and maybe a bit silly.”

She closed the cases, and reached out to hand one to Phantom. He took it, and Dryad suddenly realized he had no bag or the like; she was about to tell Sweetlopek to give up the one he had brought, when Phantom casually reached down and stuck the offering into his own gelatinous belly. For a moment it became transparent, displaying his gramophone, and now the container of medicine - he took the other two nut-shells and did the same, as well as the roll of bandages; all floating in ectoplasm along with the record-player. Then his stomach became opaque again.

Dryad and Sweetlopek stared at him, their mouths open. “...What?” he said with a shrug. “I’m talking with a forest spirit, on a planet where the warden makes things fall from the sky. Don’t act like I'm the strangest thing here.”

Soon, Phantom was carefully scooping said warden, whom he loved so desperately and dearly, who was still sticking his tongue out, from the hammock in which he lay, and into his arms. His coat was buttoned loosely around him.

“Oh, I forgot to mention-” said Dryad. “I checked the rest of his body out, and cleaned him - he’s bruised along his chest where the tree was resting, but nothing too serious. However, you may want to… keep an eye on it. Or ask him to.”

Phantom nodded, cradling the sleeping poet to his own body, feeling his slow and steady breathing and the warmth of his soft exhalations onto his chest. He was so transfixed by looking down at him that he didn’t notice Dryad float over, until he felt something silky wrap around his neck.

“And, ah, you can have this back. I didn’t let it get too dirty or anything.” She tied the cravat around his neck loosely, not really knowing how to do it properly. “Now, this, on the other hand-” she held up his handkerchief by a still-clean corner, though it was now spotted with blood. “I think for sanitary reasons we had best just get rid of it- sorry about that.”

“Pas de problème,” he said. “I have plenty.”

Dryad and Sweetlopek were soon watching the ghost carry the poet out of the nursery, back towards the town.

“I don’t like this one bit,” said the woodsman, when they had disappeared among the trees. “I wasn’t gonna argue with ya, but- it should be me lookin’ after him. I’ve done it so many times. I know exactly what I’m doin’-”

Dryad put a hand on his arm, and looked at him, her face serious. “I’ll admit I don’t quite trust him on this as much as I’d trust you. But I do trust him.” Her expression softened, growing a bit sad. “And you must realize, my love. We may not always be there to help Woodrow.”

“Why not?!” the lumberjack exclaimed. “We ain’t goin’ nowhere."

“We won’t,” she agreed. “But he might.”

“Don’t- don’t be ridiculous, hun. He loves Palette Prime more'n anybody. He loves us. He’s the warden- he… he ain’t goin’ nowhere neither. He’s never wanted to leave…”

“Maybe not long-term,” said Dryad. “Woodrow doesn’t travel much, now. But do you think the Phantom will stay here forever? And do you not think they would follow each other to the ends of the galaxy? We cannot always be there to protect him. Sometimes others must take up that role.”

A sinking feeling began to spread through Sweetlopek, starting in the heart and moving out through his chest. Dryad was wise and perceptive, as always… but after a morning like this, the thought of her being correct was too much to bear. 

—

Woodrow felt something soft press onto his cheek, but did not open his eyes. He was so… so sleepy… everything was warm and cozy in the abyss of slumber. His eyelids were too heavy to open…

The soft thing stroked his cheek again, this time accompanied by a voice that was as lovely and tender and gentle on the ears as whatever was touching his face. “Tristan, mon chéri? I am sorry to wake you, but… would you please?”

The poet’s eyes opened now, and he realized that what was on his face was a large paw - Tom’s, of course, lifting him up from a pillow. He was vaguely aware of his ears being pressed down behind him, which he found mildly annoying; something on his head that certainly wasn’t his hat… and… Tom’s face staring down into his. An expression of relief was written in the ghost’s features. “Ah, there you are, darling.”

“Mmm…” He blinked, trying to ground himself in reality. “Tom, I was having the most wonderful dreams… you were…” he cut himself off. “Where… where am I?” He looked down to see that he was on some kind of plush sofa… and around him, an unfamiliar room, with carpet, and a large bed with a canopy and curtains not far away… all decorated quite lavishly with fine furniture and paintings on the walls. It was all rather blurry, as he lacked his glasses. But Phantom’s face was close and clear enough.

“This is my room, in the Portly Pumpkin,” said the ghost, caressing the poet’s cheek again. “I hope you don’t mind.”

Woodrow looked around, in some confusion. “Do you remember what happened this morning, dear?” Phantom asked gently. Suddenly, memories came back to the warden- and he felt embarrassment flood him along with the recollection.

“Oh…” said Woodrow. “Yes… Yes, I am… so sorry you all had to go through that, for my foolish sake. But still… why am I here? Why did you not take me to my own home, instead of having me impose on yours?”

“Well, first of all, I didn’t want to deal with your house's raincloud, nor for you to deal with the leaks I know you have. No offense,” he said, looking past Woodrow- the warden turned his head and saw, at the large bay window of the room, Jinx floating nearby, as if to keep an eye on them both. “And also,” said the former singer, turning back to his companion, “I did not wish to wake you, nor to break into your home without permission. So I brought you here. Besides, there’s room service, and people to assist with any emergency that may occur. I need not take my eyes off you.”

“But - people must have seen you take me up here-”

“I must inform you, dear heart, that no one seemed much surprised by any of it. You being injured, or you asleep in my arms. Surely you, as the warden, must have noticed by now that we - the two of us, in each other’s embrace - that we are not a secret to this town. …You do not wish us to be a secret, do you?”

Woodrow was silent for a moment, then breathed out a sigh. “Of course not,” he said. “I just… do not wish people to reach inaccurate conclusions.” He looked up at the other. “So why have you awoken me? It was such a lovely slumber… of course, the reality is just as pleasant.”

“Well, you see, I have let you rest here on the sofa for a while, but I thought it prudent to move you to the bed. But first, I needed your permission to- ah, you see, your coat… it is quite soiled, covered in mud and dirt from your fall. I thought it might be best if you changed into a robe, and I could send for your clothes to be cleaned.”

The warden felt even more embarrassed, realizing that he indeed had been laid upon this fine sofa in the wrinkled and dirty coat which he still wore. “The bed… your bed…” he murmured in awe. “Well… if that is truly alright with you.”

Phantom gave his companion his glasses back, which he had held onto all this time, and helped him stand - he was a bit wobbly on his feet, but alright enough - and showed him to the suite’s bathroom. He handed him a sumptuous blue silken robe before he went in, saying with a smile, “I’m sorry that it may be a bit large on you, mon ami. It is part of my own collection.”

In a few minutes, Woodrow opened the door and emerged again from the bathroom. He was indeed quite swallowed by the garments, as if he were drowning in the waves of a sapphire ocean - the sleeves and the body were loose and hung about him, and yet his legs from the knees down poked out of the bottom.

Phantom couldn’t hold back a laugh. “I’m sorry I have nothing that’s a better fit!”

“Oh, it’s alright,” said the other, smiling below his glasses and his bandaged head. “I know I look absurd, but- I feel most comfortable. And that is what matters.”

“And you shall soon be more comfortable still,” said Phantom. Before Woodrow knew what was happening, the other had swooped at him, and literally swept him off his feet. In a swift motion he was carried and placed into the bed, and the blankets tucked around him, all so quickly that it made his ailing head swoon- but perhaps he would have felt that way regardless.

Phantom then retrieved Woodrow’s coat from the hook in the bathroom where he had left it. “Now, stay right there,” he said sweetly, “while I send this off to be cared for. I’ll be back before you know it, to care for you." He swept from the room, taking the coat down to the front desk.

Woodrow watched the door close behind him, then looked around now that he could see the room better. Tom had made it his own already - he hadn’t noticed before, but amongst the generic autumnal themed decorations furnished by the hotel lay things that clearly belonged to Phantom: albums displayed on top of the dressers and shelves, a picture of the cast and crew from an opera in a frame on the bedside table, gold and silver gramophones of various sizes that were clearly awards, and even a few portraits of the singer himself in various costumes. Woodrow sighed dreamily. His touch was everywhere… and that same touch with which he pampered himself had been, for some reason, turned to the humble poet, just as tender and loving…

As promised, Phantom returned before Woodrow had time to study the room completely. “They’ll have your coat, beloved- I mean, your beloved coat- back to you this time tomorrow,” he explained, pulling up an armchair next to the bed. “I’m afraid you might have to find some new leaves to adorn it. But I will help you look for just the right ones.”

And thus began a new type of day for them both - somehow wondrous, despite the painful circumstances that were its precursor. They talked - mostly Phantom, letting Woodrow rest - telling more stories from the theatre world, of onstage bloopers and backstage intrigue, of drama between actors as heated offstage as it was under the spotlights; he explained yet more of his roles and recited some of his favorite monologues which he could still remember verbatim from productions past. His voice grew rough and raspy and crackly, and he made tea for them both (black tea for himself and Dryad's blend for Woodrow), and the warden fell asleep off and on. When the time came, Phantom awoke him gently to change his bandages and apply the medicine just as he had been instructed.

The singer had never cared for anyone like this before. Oh, he had helped Bea a few times; when she was sick, when she was hung over. But she was strong and proud and resilient, even at her lowest, and only ever needed a small amount of tending. He had never looked after a creature so vulnerable, someone who had been so frequently and severely hurt by the world. It was a new occupation for Phantom: this nursing, this caring, this type of love. And with the pride innate to him, he felt like he was doing a pretty good job, if he did say so himself. 

And he wasn't wrong. Woodrow had never been cared for in such a way. Sweetlopek, Dryad, even his parents long ago… they had all looked after him, all treating him with tenderness and love in their own ways. But this… this was something else. Every action done with a flourish of passion, a touch of barely-concealed longing, a physical yearn. When Phantom unwrapped his bandages with one hand, the other was placed under Woodrow's chin to keep his head steady; something Sweet might have done. And yet the poet was not used to the thumb that caressed his cheek, down to his jawbone, his eyelids drooping and a dizzy grin coming over his face at the almost hypnotic relaxation of the touch. And when his bandages were all removed and his ears sprang up, Tom massaged them at their base to ease the soreness where they had been forced downward. When he did have to press them down again to redress the wounds, he stroked them from their base to their tips as he laid them gently back, murmuring, "There, there, darling. I know you don't like this."

In other words, when Woodrow awoke to be cared for, it was hard to believe he was not still in a dream.

That evening, room service delivered them two big bowls of vegetable stew and plenty of bread and carrot juice. Woodrow was well enough to sit at the table in the suite with Phantom; though he was not a vegetarian himself, the ghost had wanted to get the same thing as his “patient”. After dinner, said patient had his bandages changed again, washed up a bit, and promptly fell back asleep.

After some time, the warden felt the by-now familiar touch on his cheek that meant he was being awakened. He opened his eyes drowsily. “Mmm?”

“Tesoro,” said Phantom, “it is growing dark outside, and… I should not assume that you want to spend the night in my lodgings. I wanted to ask if you preferred me to take you to your home, and have me check on you in the morning.”

Woodrow’s eyes widened, and he pushed himself up into a sitting position. Looking past the opened curtains of the bed to the window, he could indeed see well enough without his glasses that dusk was settling in, and that Jinx, who still hovered loyally, was getting harder to distinguish against the coming night. He then flopped back down onto his side, saying nothing.

“Of course, you can stay here if you want to,” said Phantom. “I would much prefer to keep an eye on you. But only, of course, if that is what you desire.”

“Tom,” he said softly, “I don’t want to leave. I don’t want to leave you… I don’t want you to leave me.”

“Then you shan’t, and I shan’t,” said the ghost, as a smile of relief crossed his face. “As long as you’re sure you are comfortable.”

“I am, but- where will you sleep? The sofa is too small for you. Please move me back to it, and you can have the bed-”

“Tristan, you fool,” said Phantom, his face suddenly hurt. “Are you really going to be so stubborn? We have already passed a night in each other’s arms.” He leaned forward, taking the poet’s paw in both of his own, holding it one and stroking its top with the other. “Will you not allow me to hold you again, tonight? To let my warmth sink into your aching muscles and your tired bones? Can you look me in the eyes and tell me you don’t want such a thing?!”

The warden blinked at him, wide-eyed, and reached up with his other paw out of habit, to adjust glasses that weren’t there. “Of course I want it,” he breathed. “I have wanted nothing more, in my entire life. Only… is it proper?”

“Is it PROPER!” cried the other in astonishment. “Tristan! Whatever do you mean?”

“It’s only- Tom- it’s only that I am the warden here, and you are our planet’s honored guest, and perhaps we ought-”

It was then that a blur of white and red and blue overtook him, as Phantom dove onto the bed, rolling over Woodrow and turning, in one smooth motion scooping him into his arms and placing his thin body, still swallowed in its absurd robe, on top of his own large form.

“Tristan Woodrow,” he said into the startled and blushing face of the Rabbid lying on top of him, “you are indeed the warden here, and you decide what is proper for yourself.”

“O-of course,” said the poet, feeling incredibly warm. He buried his face in the neck of the other, who had long since removed his rumpled cravat. Phantom turned his face, and kissed him on the cheek. And so they lay for some time, holding each other tight.

—

It was long since they had washed up for bed; Phantom had gotten an extra toothbrush and toiletries from the front desk, and changed into a robe of his own (this one red) before lying down. And now, with the curtains drawn, they had lain for hours - each of them in a deep and restful sleep, Phantom holding Woodrow close. Just as promised, the warmth of his body was therapy on the warden’s injured form.

Woodrow felt the familiar touch on his face, and then a gentle jostle of his shoulders, and thought it must be morning. He opened his eyes, but could see no light beyond the cracks of the bed-curtains. In fact, it was still pitch black, and he could see nothing at all.

“Tom?” he murmured through a yawn. “What time is it?”

“It is very early in the morning,” he said. “Three o’clock. But I have business, and I wanted to let you know. I do not wish to leave you, but- will you be alright here for an hour or so? Probably less.”

“You are going to sing,” said Woodrow sleepily, but matter-of-factly.

He could not see his companion’s expression in the dark, but there was something about the way the bed shifted, and in the silence that followed, he could imagine the shock on his face- and the warden smiled to himself. “However did you know such a thing?” asked Phantom.

“As I said this morning, I heard you last night. It gave me peace in my injured sleep. Do not think I have forgotten, or believed that it was a dream. You have been sneaking out at night, to sing- for what purpose you keep it from me, and everyone else, I cannot fathom. But now I know I am right.”

Woodrow heard a sigh in the darkness. “You are a clever one, my dear. Well, yes… since I arrived here, I have been stealing off to the woods in the wee hours of each morning. To practice a bit.”

“Surely that isn’t good for you, Tom? You ought to let your voice rest, if you are to heal…”

“Then how am I to know that it is healing?” said the other with a chuckle, stroking the warden’s cheek in the dark. “It is only a little, each night, to measure if there is any improvement day by day. I go far into the woods, in the middle of the night, so that no one may hear me. It seems not even your friend the Dryad knows. No one but the owls and crickets do, I imagine.”

“Oh, Tom! Take me with you, tonight.”

“But Tristan…” he said, although his voice did not seem to protest too much. “You ought to rest. I can’t be dragging you out into the forest in the cold of the night-”

“I shall be fine, Tom. This planet is my home and my ward, and there is no part of its natural splendor which is not a comfort to me. It shall be good to get out of this room.”

And so, before long, the now properly-dressed Phantom held the poet in his arms just as he had almost a day ago; only this time he was conscious, and wearing an oversized black coat that belonged to the singer himself. It gave a somewhat similar appearance to his own favored garb; but even more comically large, and far less shabby. Jinx zoomed along behind them as the ghost swept skillfully through the trees.

After a good while, when they were far, far away from town - far even from Sweetlopek’s house, or Dryad’s nest - they came to a little clearing. Phantom slowed to a stop here, and set Woodrow down gently against a large tree, in a hollow formed by its massive roots. He settled back, clasped his hands, crossed his legs, and looked up - smiling, polite. He tried to perk up his ears as much as he could, but pressed down as they were, this resulted in them sticking out diagonally just a bit more rigidly than before.

An expression crossed Phantom’s face that Woodrow did not often see - it was doubt; he was second-guessing himself. He seemed uncertain as he backed away from his companion, into the starlight of the clearing. Then he closed his eyes, and cleared his throat.

And he raised his arms and sang.

A wordless song; starting low, building high; a swing of the scale, dramatic leaps and fantastical flourishes of the voice, loud and clear and sublime, for what felt to Woodrow like an eternity of beauty-

But in reality it was not more than twenty seconds or so before the first choke; a crack of the voice that shattered a richly sustained note. And then, an attempt at a scale that was shot dead in its tracks; a gag, a gasp. The next notes were marred by scratches and rasps, and-

“I’m- sorry,” said Phantom, between coughs, as he turned back to the other. “That is all I can do, for tonight.”

He found the other sniffling, with tears streaming down from behind his glasses.

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” he said, approaching the tree trunk and settling his body down next to Woodrow’s. “It really is horrid, isn’t it? I have done your already-aching head a great injustice.”

“No,” whispered the warden. “It was… it was so beautiful, Tom, while it lasted. That is why I am crying.”

“Oh, please,” said the other, his voice still rough. “There is no need to flatter me. I know the truth.”

“No, Tom, you don’t,” said Woodrow. “Don’t you understand? To hear you sing in person, even if for less than a minute… it is a dream come true. A dream I have held for a long, long time. Even if I never met you when your voice was whole, it matters not to me, for I have still heard you. What is beautiful once, maintains a certain beauty forever. The crumbled ruins of a castle still bear its pride and dignity. A flower that wilts still retains its color, and from its crumbled shape we can imagine what once was. Perhaps it is all the more lovely for its fragility. And the fact that this beauty was entrusted to me alone… why, I scarcely know what I have done to deserve it.”

Phantom’s own blue eyes wide and glistening. For what seemed like the hundredth time that day, he put his paw on Woodrow’s cheek. “Tristan,” he said, scarcely more than a breath, “you deserve all I can give you, and more. Do you- do you know, this morning - what seems so long ago now - when I saw you, in your dear friend’s arms, your head covered in blood- for a split-second, I thought the worst, and for a moment my world ended. All was dark and empty before me, and all around me, until I heard you speak again, until I saw you smile up at me.”

Woodrow felt himself starting to cry even more. He didn’t know what to say. “Tom…”

“And the worst part? The worst part is that last night I came out here to practice, after the winds died down, not terribly far from where you lay injured, and I had no idea. You were right that you heard me, barely conscious though you were. And yet I did not know you were there. I did not find you…”

“It’s alright,” the warden sniffed. “You… couldn’t have known.”

“But Tristan, you wonderful creature, listen!” continued the Phantom, “There ARE things that I know, that I know now, and that I knew yesterday. I was so terrified that I had lost you, before I could somehow convince you to grace the world with your poems once more. And I was haunted, moreover, by regret. By the words I should have spoken last night, if not before - if not when you consoled me in the cradle of the moon. Those words that have torn at my mind and my heart in ceaseless torment for days. Oh, Tristan, my sweet, I love you, I love you. Everything I am, and everything I will be, that I want to be, is consumed by this feeling. I adore you, with every part of my being.” He kissed his left paw, no longer meeting his eyes.

The warden was stunned, his mouth slightly agape, filled with a longing which he could not describe, even if he tried. “Tom…” he said, “of course I love you too. But why does it feel so empty to say? The way I feel for you… even if I were to try and write, in this moment, all the poetry in the world could give but the palest shade of my true affections. Words will never suffice.”

“Then speak to me without words,” said the other. And this time, it was no fantasy; their lips met each other’s, and then lips met neck, and shoulders, and ears, and chest, as coats and vests were unbuttoned, in the hollow of the tree-roots, in the Spellbound Woods, under a cloud, under the stars.

[seven-ivy]

About me!

┌────────── ・ ・ ・ ・ ✦

│⁻ ˏˋ꒰ Basics ꒱ ˊˎ⁻

✧ Nikki ♡ 21, she/her, INTJ

Hello! I'm Nikki, the author of Seven (a JJK fic) and this is my page to share my work and other interests and finally start interacting on this platform with other users.

Seven will be slowly updated on AO3 as I have already pre-written some chapters but these chapters are lengthy and take a while to write and read over. Mind the tags!! There will be violence, trauma, and gore in this fic so I will do my best to display trigger warnings.

My ask box is always open, so feel free to ask anything, or just leave a message on whatever you like. At the moment, I don't take requests but that might change in the future.

I will continue to update with my latest work(s) as well as what I'm currently writing.

More about me and my work(s) below the cut! Happy reading!

│⁻ ˏˋ꒰ Writing Q&A ꒱ ˊˎ⁻

✧ Why did you start Seven?

Seven, like all my other writing endeavors, started as a little fantasy in my head as a way to self-insert into every piece of media I consume. I didn't ever think to seriously write it until Gege started upping the angst and breaking my heart in gut-wrenching scenarios when I decided to give into the delusion and finally write something that would distract me from what was going on in the manga.

Being said, as you read Seven you will start to see that it doesn't exactly follow the plot. This is mainly because I wanted to exercise a little creativity with the plot and Gege's mind, though tortured, is genius that I could never try to imitate.

I also feel like there is a lack of OC-driven multilength JJK fics in the fandom (that, or I don't know where to look) so I wanted to try my hand at filling that niche.

✧ How long will Seven be?

... I don't know? Certain parts of the plot have been running through my head over and over for months, but some things I just leave up to the madness that consumes my brain when I'm writing at 2 AM.

Like Nana, even though is an independent original character, I haven't planned out fully what she looks like (just vague references that she resembles Gojo). As I write more, I get to know more about her character, and even though it isn't a very author-like thing to do, it keeps things exciting for me as well.

But don't worry, I have some arcs briefly planned out, and the manga is still ongoing so there will be lots to keep writing about.

✧ What do you write on?

Google docs. Just one very long Google doc that I keep updating. Maybe it's not the best loading wise but I like to keep it all in one place so I can re-read everything in one go to make sure I eliminate any plot-holes that arise.

I also enjoy Grammarly a lot (my savior) and without it there would be many times Nana would become Naan :(

✧ Writing inspo/tips

This isn't my first go at writing a long (40+) chapter fic so I have experienced an immense learning curve during this writing journey.

The first is one that I used to groan at too but it's honestly the best advice. If you want to be a better writer... read more. And I don't mean on tumblr/wattpad/AO3 (how I wish it could be) but actual published novels.

And read from many different genres from many different origins from many different periods. By doing so, you will diversify your vocabulary, your knowledge, and learn the nuances of writing that can only be learned from reading a really good book.

The second is to take the time to find what works. Writing isn't going to look the same for all people. Some people can only write in the early morning, some at night, and a lucky few aren't constricted by the silly hours of time.

Some writers can listen to music, others can't. Some need to plan everything out in obsessive detail, while others just go with the flow.

Take the time to figure out what works best for you and make use of it.

The third is to write more. Simple, but to improve your writing, first you need to get all of the shaky, baby lamb trying to stand on its own, in other words, "bad" stuff out before you can start to see progress. Looking back at my first attempts at writing... I am appalled but grateful that I got through it to get to where I am now. you don't necessarily need to publish it on a platform, but just get it out. Like letting the murky water run out from a tap first before you get it clear.

✧ My recs

Don't know where to start? I'll help you out. Here are some of the media I consumed that put a passion in me to write.

JJK (obvi), old poetry classics, Greek myths and tales, research into Buddhism and Shinto, Madeline Miller novels, The Picture of Dorian Gray by Oscar Wilde, Agatha Christie novels, Secret History by Donna Tartt, Jane Eyre by Charlotte Brontë, and The Book Thief by Markus Zusak.

There are many more, but these have stood out to me particularly.

│⁻ ˏˋ꒰ Other fandoms ꒱ ˊˎ⁻

If you've made it this far I'll let you into some other fandoms/communities I enjoy besides JJK:

Mob Psycho, Saiki K, TWST, Demon Slayer, MHA, Castlevania, Mystic Messenger.

I'm not always active in those fandoms and I'm def forgetting some but at some point in my life I'd been very obsessed.

[fifteenleads]

The Proposition

Based on this tweet by Stewart Clarke.

Prequel side story to Happier Ever After.

-

“Unco Dion, faster, faster!”

“Kihel wants to go faster?” Dion doesn’t wait for Kihel’s reply before pushing the stroller a little more forcefully, lengthening his strides as he did. They don’t really speed up but it‘s enough for Kihel to feel the wind on her face, giggling as she did.

Dion smiles. In truth, taking care of Kihel’s a rare treat he gets to do on his days off work. His housekeeper Ethel would sometimes leave her granddaughter in his care when she had to visit her doctor, apologizing profusely every time as she did. She never really needs to; it‘s a small thing compared to all she‘s done for him and his family to this day.

She would often ask Dion when he’d finally settle down. “I’m not growing any younger, my boy. I need to see you and Terence kiss on the altar before I die.”

“Please don’t joke like that, Aunt Ethel. You and Kihel will be invited for sure when it happens.” They’ve had this conversation at least once a month now, it’s making Dion consider if he should make the first move instead.

Dion’s phone vibrates in his pocket, at the same time his wireless headset informs him of an incoming call. He slows down and parks the stroller beside an empty driveway. “Hey, Phoenix. What’s up?”

“Shin Kamen Rider Day!” Joshua’s definitely jumping around somewhere, if all that stomping accompanying his excitement is of any indication. There are also kids squealing the same thing in the background, so he probably found out about it from his students after class. The two of them have been following tokusatsu shows since they were children, an interest they picked up from Joshua’s dad, Elwin.

Apparently Prime Video’s picking up this season, and it was coming out today. Dion had forgotten. “Nice! Are you watching tonight?”

“Sadly not,” Joshua’s mood immediately deflates at the question. “There’s a faculty meeting tonight for the school sportsfest. Maybe tomorrow?”

“I see. Good luck with that,” Dion says. They catch up on a few more things before Joshua excuses himself for his next class. Kihel’s getting antsy from waiting, so Dion quickly dials another number before getting back on the roadside.

Terence picks up after a couple of rings. “Hello, love. You rarely call during work hours.”

“I’m off today, silly. Are you on break?”

“Just for a few minutes. What is it?”

Dion proceeds to tell Terence about what he’d learned from Joshua. “I’m thinking we should sit down and watch Kamen Rider on Prime Video tonight,” he offers earnestly, speeding up a little again. “Joshua said we could watch ahead of him, but no spoilers in the group chat.”

“Oh, okay,” Terence agrees. “Can’t help it if he has work. I’m free tonight, actually. Does seven PM work for you?”

“Sure, Ethel’s already picked up Kihel by then.” Dion thinks to himself for a while then adds, “You could bring refreshments.”

Terence immediately chokes on whatever he’s drinking at Dion’s statement, and if he guessed right, would also be blushing to the tips of his ears in full view of his officemates. Bingo.

“R-Right, I’ll take care of that. See you?” There’s a hint of breathlessness now in Terence’s voice, and Dion knows his boyfriend totally gets it. “Yeah. See you.”

The call ends right then, and Dion grins to himself excitedly. Kihel is giggling again, none the wiser to the proposition that had just happened. Oh, to be young and wild and happy—and hopefully engaged by the end of tonight, if he had anything to say about it.

[gimmie-a-sammich]

To Rule Them All | Chapter 3 | The Long Journey

Pairings: Idol!Ateez/???!Ateez x Fem!Original Characters

Summary: Alexis is about to have the summer of a lifetime traveling the country with some of her best friends following one of her favorite groups, Ateez. Little do they know, there is more to this group than meets the eye. Take a trip into the dark as they navigate a world unseen.

Genre: (18+ Minors DNI) smut, angst, fluff, supernatural vibes 

Chapter Warnings: cursing, more hauntings (silly ateez)

Word Count: 2.9k

read here on AO3

To Rule Them All masterlist

previous chapter | next chapter

**

Sunshine was just barely peeking through the window of Christie’s upstairs bedroom, casting small pockets of light onto the wolf gray walls. I was tucked in snuggly within the soft emerald green blankets on her bed, casually scrolling through my phone while Loki’s tail brushed my face gently whenever he flicked it. 

“You know, you always give me grief for never being on time, but look how the tables have turned,” I giggled, casting a glance at the amount of clothes that were scattered across her floor and bed.

Christie rolled her eyes in response. “Really? You act like you know nothing. I’ll be ready.”

Nikki was going to be at our house in a few hours to load up her SUV to begin our trek to Fort Worth. We had settled on driving straight through to Nashville, breaking up the 18 hour trip into chunks between the three of us. 

“You do know that Gale is going to be here any time, right?” I teased her, knowing it would get some form of rise out of her. I laughed as I saw Christie increase the speed she was packing at just the mere mention of her mother’s name, ticking off items on her list at an alarming rate. 

Gale, Christie’s brother Riley, and their dog Kai were coming to our house to watch our fur children, at least for a couple weeks while we were traveling for the concerts. Riley was only slightly annoyed at the fact that the first days of his summer would be spent in Derby, but was also looking forward to hitting up the beaches in nearby Newport. We were thankful that we would be leaving our precious babies in good hands. Hopefully, they would be able to handle Loki and Scout’s newfound behavior problems… something Gale also attributed to ghosts. 

Speaking of which, both of them were turned and fixated at a certain spot on the wall. I shook my head; this was such a common occurrence as of late that their oddness and “Barthalomew’s” movement of things barely phased me anymore. 

By this point, Christie had torn through her list so quickly that she was cleaning up the articles of clothing that had not made the cut and moved to work through her toiletry list. 

“Did you remember to pack extra toothpaste?” I called as she sifted through the cabinets and drawers in her bathroom, bottles clinking as she loaded them into her travel case.

“I thought I was supposed to mom you, not the other way around?” Christie retorted, poking her head out the door to shoot a smile in my direction. 

She had zipped the black suitcase emblazoned with metallic skulls just as we heard the RING doorbell going off, causing Scout and Loki to bolt downstairs to greet their grandmother and uncle. I reluctantly removed myself from the comforts of Christie’s bed, haphazardly throwing the covers back into their original position. I walked downstairs to find Riley and Gale already in the house, clearly the doorbell was a signal for the entry into our home, not a sign for one of us to let them in. 

“Hi, Mama Gale,” I exclaimed, wrapping my arms around her to pull her into an extra tight hug. She reciprocated the pressure, squeezing me almost as hard. 

“Hello, Alexis… has my dumb ass child turned the kettle on?” she asked sharply, all the while a huge smile slung upon her face.  “I have driven seven hours and seven minutes exactly… I deserve a cup of tea.”

Riley had already made himself comfortable on the couch, ignoring all greetings, petting Scout absentmindedly while also playing on his Switch. I could hear the theme song to the latest Pokemon game coming from the device, reminding me that Christie and I needed to download the expansion packs. 

Gale’s bright eyes shot towards Riley. “You, go get Kai Kai out of the car and grab your bag before you get cozy.” 

He shot past me, mumbling slightly, but otherwise following his mother’s direction. Christie had made her way down the stairs, yelling hi monkey to her little brother as he went out the door. 

“You honestly think I would not have had the kettle going?” Christie asked while she enveloped her mother in another hug. 

That was all Gale needed to hear. The three of us beelined towards the kitchen so her daughter could lovingly make her mom a cup of tea, all the while jokingly complaining about the task. Gale informed me of their drive, stating that it wasn’t as terrible crossing the border this time as it was during their initial visit. 

As Gale, Riley, and Kai settled into the house, Christie and I continued with last minute trip prep that had been forgotten. Suitcases were rechecked, snacks were triple checked, and the cooler was stocked with waters, iced coffees, and energy drinks to feed all of our insane need for caffeine. We ran through the trip itinerary once more with Gale, reminding her to at least send pictures of floof butts while we were gone. 

Conversation was interrupted by the screeching of tires and blasting of a car horn, announcing Nikki’s arrival. 

“I’m assuming that is more of Ann?” Gale asked while she gulped down her second cup of tea. 

Christie and I laughed at the nickname she had given us many moons before, lovingly dubbing us her news network for all things k-pop. We grabbed the suitcases and mess of pillows and blankets, lugging them outside to meet our fellow anchorwoman. Gale followed behind closely, while Riley remained fixed on the couch. 

Nikki was already outside the vehicle with the back hatch open. “Are you bitches ready to get this show on the road?” she exclaimed, arms open as if welcoming us into her own personal chaos. She went over and hugged Gale before turning back towards us. “Do you guys have everything? No turning back from here.”

“That depends… Do you have enough fluids for the drive?” Christie questioned, raising an eyebrow at our friend. 

Nikki stumbled over her answer, saying that she had enough bean water to caffeinate an army. She almost fell over when we showed her the cooler we had packed to the brim with her favorites, as well as what we all knew she really needed… water. 

We loaded the suitcases and said one last goodbye to Gale, Riley, and the fur babies before settling into the first shift of the drive. Nikki, our resident speed demon, was more than happy to take the beginning six hour leg of the journey, leaving Christie as the navigator/DJ. I was more than happy to take the role of backseat princess, and snack distributor, making myself comfortable amongst the pillows and blankets we all brought along. 

I was in and out of sleep for most of the first shift, lulled by the music and soft conversations flowing around me. It was the best use of my time in the backseat, a way to catch up on the many hours I had missed the last few weeks. I was fully awakened when I heard one of my favorite songs, Wave coming through the speakers. I flung my Halloween blanket off of me, shooting up in the backseat to scream “HAKUNA MATATA YA,” scaring both Nikki and Christie absolutely shitless by my sudden yelling. The laughter that filled the car was infectious as we all started singing along, filming one of my trademarked Car Concert videos in the process to share with the rest of our little goblin family. 

Nikki’s turn was coming to an end, and we found a gas station off the interstate to take the obligatory bathroom breaks and to switch our positions in the car. Christie took up driving duties, I migrated to the front seat for GPSing, and Nikki took residency in the backseat for a much earned rest. About an hour into the second portion, music was halted by the abrupt ringing of Christie’s phone. 

“Gale, you’re killing the vibe,” she sighed as she handed the phone over to me. 

I couldn’t help but laugh as the video of Gale filled the screen. She looked frazzled, waving about a smudge stick within our living room. 

“I thought you guys were crazy and in desperate need of grippy socks,” Gale began, “but ALL of these damn animals went crazy about 20 minutes ago and only just settled down.” 

“Oh, did dear Bartholomew pay you a visit then?” I joked, cracking a smile. 

“THIS IS NOT SOMETHING TO JOKE ABOUT!” Gale scolded. “I’m smudging the whole house. Top to bottom. I’m going to ask the ancestors to watch over you while you’re on the road, and the house. Keep an eye out for hawks…”

“For safe travels, yeah yeah, I know, Gale,” Christie cut her off. “We need the good vibes to continue, and hopefully Bartholomew isn’t too upset that you drove him out of his home. Love you BYE!” She ripped the phone out of my hand, pressing the end call button firmly. 

The rest of the drive went by just as quickly once the good vibes within the car had resumed.

Nikki’s residency in the backseat was short lived, as the gremlin in her could not handle being away from the actions taking place in the front seat. She was constantly asking to switch places with me, while Christie continued to reprimand her, telling her that her time would come and she needed to chill her caffeinated ass out. Soon enough, her wish was granted, and it was finally time for the final switch, allowing her to become the navigator while I took over driving duties, appeasing her enough that she would be in the front seat at least. We would be in Nashville right around 8am, giving us a full day with Thea before leaving for Texas the following morning. 

The excitement had awoken all in the car as we neared our first destination. Christie, who had perched herself in the middle of the backseat to rest her hands on the center console had already messaged in our group chat to let Thea know we were twenty minutes out. 

Luckily for us, we did not hit much, if any, of the Nashville traffic as we toddled into the subdivision that Thea resided in. It was a newer community, filled with young couples and children, making a perfect hunting ground for Thea’s blooming photography business. We pulled up to her tan bungalow to find her impatiently waiting for us in the middle of her driveway. I was thankful that I was the driver at this time, knowing full well Nikki would have caused a spectacle with a burn out in the otherwise calm neighborhood. 

“YOU’RE HERE!” Thea shrieked, her purple hair shining in the sunrise, bouncing up and down as she hopped with joy. She tossed her hands around all three of us, gathering us into a group hug. “I feel like it’s been an eternity since I’ve been able to squish your faces.” 

Nikki broke away first, her aversion to human contact coming into play. As much as she despised it, she would usually give in to her best friends, especially since the three of us were very touchy. 

“Let’s get inside so we can get you settled… we have a reservation at my favorite breakfast spot at 10am,” Thea said warmly, following Nikki to the hatch to help us bring in our belongings for our stay. “I can’t wait to fill you in on my most recent shenanigans… or rather Bartholomew’s.”

__________

Wooyoung sat motionless in the corner of Christie’s room, fighting every nerve in his body to move closer to Alexis on the bed. He had too many eyes on him, as both the dog and the cat were staring straight in his direction. In a way, the animals had become more accustomed to him. While they still picked up on his presence, they did not react as harshly as they had when visits first began. 

To say he was enamored was an understatement, but he would never admit it to anyone, not even himself. But as he stood there, watching her tease her friend, even he couldn’t deny the feeling in his chest. There was something about the way she was aimlessly playing with her hair while she carefully stroked Loki’s head. The light coming through the windows was hitting her eyes, making the colors in them swirl together like a painting. He was taking all of her in, when suddenly she jumped to the sound of their doorbell chiming downstairs. As the animals ran away, he took his chance to move a bit closer, following her as she went to welcome her guests. 

He continued to watch them when they were settled in the kitchen, conversing over tea about the upcoming trip. Wooyoung debated on how best to inform the others that at least three of chosen ones would be trapped in a car for the next 18-20 hours without revealing how he obtained such information. 

Wooyoung once again followed them out of the room, but instead of walking outside to the sound of tires and car horn, he went in the direction of Alexis’s room. He knew that they had to be leaving, giving him all the time in the world to delve into the contents of her room uninterrupted. Or so he thought. 

After several hours of going through the bookshelves, clothes, and the bathroom, he settled himself comfortably within her bed, bringing some books and binders along with him. He was alarmed when Captain rushed into the room out of breath, although he refused to let the panic he was suddenly feeling overtake his calm demeanor. Hongjoong was just as surprised to see Wooyoung curled comfortably on Alexis’s bed looking through a photo album. “You’re not supposed to be here,” he said sharply. 

“And neither are you,” Wooyoung retorted, a knowing smile creeping upon his face. “The new dog really messes with the whole trying to sneak around thing, huh?”

Captain scowled at him. Of all the members to have caught him, it had to be the mouthiest of the bunch. All he wanted was to have peace in the emerald room, something he had been managing to do here and there these past couple weeks. How was he supposed to know that there would be not one, but now two giant dogs hellbent on making their every single move known. 

“Come here often, Capt?” Wooyoung jabbed, taking full advantage of Hongjoong’s silence and ignoring the rage coming through his eyes. 

“Where are they and who are these people in their house?” Hongjoong asked as he averted his gaze away from Woo. 

Wooyoung’s response was to laugh straight into his leader’s face. “Wow, something I know that you don’t?” He relaxed back into the slew of pillows on Alexis’s bed, outstretching his legs while he brought his arms to rest behind his head. He closed his eyes, clearly enjoying himself. “I’ll only tell you if you say please.” 

“Tell me.”

 He sat up in the bed, crossing his legs, resting his elbows on his knees, and leaning his head onto his hands in front of him. “So demanding… how fun is it going to be for you when I tell everyone that our fearless leader can’t even follow his own rules this time around?” Wooyoung shot back, smiling like he had just won the lottery. It wasn’t often that anyone had the upper hand on Hongjoong, and he wasn’t going to let his opportunity go to waste.  “Now, say please.”

“Do you want to sit out the first night?” Captain growled, moving directly into Wooyoung’s face, flashing his scarlet eyes at him just for a moment. 

Wooyoung flung up his hands in defeat, although the smile never disappeared from his face. “Fine, fine. They are on their way to us… twenty-eight hour car ride, one stop in Nashville for Thea.”

Captain huffed and turned away from Wooyoung, beginning to pace across the room slowly. How could he have been so sloppy? He knew they would have to leave soon, and how he did not put two and two together was beyond him. He, of course, assumed they would fly… why would anyone willingly choose to be in a car for that long? 

“We’re going back. Now. Not a word of this to anyone,” he stated. He caught Wooyoung chastising him once more, miming zipping his lips and throwing away the key before disappearing out of the room.

Captain snapped back awake, anger, frustration, and embarrassment all still running through his system. He knew better than to get caught, and he knew Wooyoung would use his slip up to his full advantage when the time was right. He stomped out of his bedroom, nearly running into Wooyoung in his haste. 

“Call everyone. Meeting in fifteen minutes. My orders,” Hongjoong commanded, looking Wooyoung dead in the eyes.

He laughed, saluting him with two fingers as he pulled out his phone. “Aye aye, captain.”

The group gathered once more within Jungho, Wooyoung, and Hongjoong’s apartment, making themselves as comfortable as they could in the smaller space. Hongjoong cast his eyes along them, studying their faces. It was a mixture of wonder and concern. Normally, he gave more notice for big meetings, but the situation with Wooyoung had the normally put together Captain fraying at his edges. 

“Choices are being made, now,” was all Hongjoong said before sitting down on the floor, leaving the group looking stunned.

[muzanlove]

Five years of university and I'm finally a doctor. After being in the city I decided to move to a small town. Or neighborhood, I've never heard of this place, all I know is there was an ad in the paper about them needing a doctor. I took the job because they would be providing housing. I don't know who 'they' are but I guess it would be nice to get out of the city. 

After hours of driving, I made it to the edge of a forest. What the. Am I going the right way? I looked at my GPS and it said to continue, suddenly I felt a wave of paranoia wash over me. This can't be right. Should I continue? A small town in the middle of a forest sounds like the start of a horror movie. Oh well, I made my way into the forest and to the small town. I park my car at the house, this place is weird. It's so bright and tiny. There are seven houses, a doctor's office, a post office, and a store with a one hundred percent off sign on the window. 

"You must be Nohemi!" I hear a man say behind me. A mailman, odd that a place this small even has a post office, figured if you needed to tell someone something you'd just go to their house. 

"Yes, and you are?" 

"I'm Eddie Dear the mailman! Well, I have to be off, I'll see you around!" 

"Nohemi! You're here! I've been waiting all day we're gonna have so much fun together! After you settle in you should come over my house is over there!" A girl said while pointing at her house.

"I didn't get your name"

"Oh silly me! Julie! Julie Joyful!" She said before skipping away. 

Wow, she's really... joyful. 

5:20 pm 

I finally finished unpacking, I should go to that girl's house, it'd be rude if I didn't. When I left my house I didn't see anyone outside, which was weird because it was the middle of the day. Despite not seeing anyone I could feel someone watching me. No, I'm just being paranoid. There can't be anyone watching me... can there? I knocked on the door to Julie's house and she quickly opened the door.

"Good you're here, are you sure you weren't followed?" She asked.

"Followed what? No, I wasn't"

"Just come in quickly." She pulled me into the house shut the door and locked it behind her.

"What's going on? Are you ok?" 

"You need to leave!" She said.

"Leave? I just got here?"

"He's been expecting your arrival for years now, he's been watching. They chose you for a reason and if you don't get out of here now it'll be too late." She explained in a serious voice. Julie looked afraid, she was serious, this isn't the same person that I met earlier today. 

"Juile what are you talking about?"

"Nohemi, please. Please heed my warning, I don't have much time. Leave and never come back!" She continued. 

"It's" She looked at her watch before continuing

"5:45, by 8 you're car will be gone. Don't make the same mistake I did, I shouldn't have-" Julie was interrupted by a knock on her door.

"Julie! Are you in there?" an unfamiliar voice said.

"Yes! Nohemi's here too!" She says in her cheerful voice. Julie unlocks the door and lets them in.  A well dressed blue haired man walks in. There's something off about him. 

"Hello you must be Nohemi, I'm Wally Darling,"

"I'll show you around town! Doesn't that sound fun!" He grabs my hand and leads me out of her house. I quickly looked back too see Juile giving me a simpthic look. Then she closed the door.

[rizlowwritessortof]

Don’t You Forget It

This was written for @dean-winchester-is-a-warrior​ ‘s 500 Follower Celebration (which I believe actually turned into a 1000 Follower Celebration? If I remember correctly?🥰) Either way, Linda is a sweetie and I was happy to participate in the challenge! 

My movie quote was “ Listen to me, mister. You’re my knight in shining armor. Don’t you forget it.” from On Golden Pond. My SPN episode was Regarding Dean. The quote will be in bold in the fic.

Pairing: Dean x Reader 

Word Count: 2211

Warnings: None. No smut, just some angst and pining, but I had to end on a happy note - after all, the celebration is also for Linda’s birthday!❤️

You looked down at the speedometer, swearing softly as you backed off on the gas for probably the tenth time since you had left Lebanon, glancing around to make sure there were no flashing lights in your vicinity. It’s been a struggle keeping your panic in check.

Sam had called a few hours ago, telling you he was worried about Dean, and you had headed that way immediately. When he called again to tell you Dean had been hexed by a witch, stark fear had taken over. You were desperate to reach them, to help if you could, and to be with Dean. You weren’t allowing yourself to think about why the need to be with him was hitting you so hard - that scared you almost as much as the situation itself.

You had fought side-by-side with both Sam and Dean for several years. You and Dean had each others’ backs so many times you’d lost count. But you had never admitted your growing feelings for him. You had never seen any sign that he shared those feelings, so you’d rather deny them and protect your heart. I mean, there had been a couple of times the two of you had come close to sleeping together – drunken fumblings after a hunt. Or that time you had to stitch Dean’s chest when a werewolf claw had slashed him open, and he had kissed you – you had almost given in that night, barely escaped falling into bed with him. But you were terrified of letting him know how you felt, too afraid that you’d be left broken, watching him happily hook up with random women like he always had.

Your seven-hour trip had been shortened quite a bit by your heavy foot on the gas, and you pulled in to park next to the Impala at the motel early that evening, bolting up the stairs to bang on the door.

Sam answered, immediately hugging you tight before stepping back to look down at you, hands on your shoulders.

“What the hell, Sam?” you said softly, “What did she do to him?”

Sam blew out a breath, tension clear in his manner. “It was a he, but… The hex – it’s - he’s losing his memory. It comes and goes, but it’s getting steadily worse. He barely knows who I am, has a hard time even remembering his own name.”

“Oh my god… So let’s go kill this guy!”

Sam took a deep breath before answering. “Dean killed him. It didn’t break the spell.”

You tried to keep the panic from your eyes, but you could tell from Sam’s expression that he knew exactly how you were feeling. “So what are we looking at here? How do we fix this?”

“Rowena says he’ll forget everything he knows, and then he’ll start forgetting how to function, how to walk, how to speak… how to breathe.” He squeezed your shoulder a little to ground you as he saw your own breathing quicken. “She’s working on it, trying to find a spell to counter the hex. We’ll find a way. We have to.” Your eyes were fixed on Dean, who sat watching Scooby Doo on the motel TV, laughing occasionally at the silliness. “Go ahead, say hello, but remember, he probably won’t know you. I need to check with Rowena on the spell, then I think we should try and talk to him. Maybe between the two of us we can get through to him, at least temporarily.” You nodded, walking over towards the bed where Dean was sitting, his eyes on the screen.

You sat down next to him, not sure what to do with yourself. He looked your way, staring at you with a rapt expression on his face. “You have really beautiful eyes,” he said with a sweet smile, still staring as though transfixed. Your heart clenched almost painfully, your eyes filling with tears at his words. “What’s wrong?” he asked, looking troubled at your distress.

You forced a smile, blinking back your tears. “Nothing. I’m just – I’m worried about my friend.”

“Why?”

“He’s… He’s sick. And we’re not sure how to help him. It just makes me sad.”

Dean put a hand on your shoulder, sympathy in his eyes. “Don’t worry. I’m sure you’ll figure it out. You seem like a good friend.”

You nodded. “Thanks,” you managed, looking back towards the TV as your eyes filled with tears again. Seeing him like this was tearing you apart, and Dean’s attempt to comfort you made it even worse. You shot him another shaky smile, rising to your feet and moving back to Sam’s side.

“You still have nothing?” he asked impatiently.

Rowena glared up at him. “I’m working on it, Samuel. In the meantime, if you want to talk to him about what’s happening to him, I suggest you do it soon, while he still may understand what you’re trying to tell him.”

Sam sighed, turning towards you, his eyes closed for a moment as he fought his frustration. When he opened them again, he spoke to you softly. “Dean doesn’t even understand what’s happening, but he deserves to know. I was just gonna take him in the bathroom for some privacy and talk to him. You should come along. It might be good to have you there.” You were struggling to keep your composure, and Sam’s eyes reflected the same tightly-controlled emotion. “We need to keep calm, keep him calm. He’ll probably remember while I’m talking to him, reminding him of his past, but it won’t last long. If you want to say anything to him, it might be your best chance.”

Your eyes burned with the desire to tear up, but you blinked hard and nodded. “Okay. I’m good, Sam. Let’s talk to him.”

Your heart was breaking as you watched his expression. It was naked, unguarded, emotions there that would normally be hidden by sarcastic humor, or anger, or simply stalking out of the room, and it was nearly unbearable to see him in that vulnerable state.  You sat on your knees on the floor next to him, his hand in yours. You didn’t remember when you had reached for it, and you honestly didn’t know if it was for his comfort or yours. Sam finally rose, putting a hand on his brother’s shoulder. “We’ll figure it out, Dean. We will.” He looked down at you as he turned to leave. “I’ll give you guys a minute.”

Dean waited until Sam left the room before he spoke, defeat in his voice. “Never thought it’d end like this. Thought I’d go out fighting, not fucking fading away like some senile old man.”

You squeezed his hand, raising up on your knees to reach for his face, turning it towards you. “We’re gonna fix this, and then you’re gonna go back to saving my ass just like always.”

He stared into your eyes for a long moment. “I hope so.”

“Listen to me, mister. You’re my knight in shining armor. Don’t you forget it.”

Sam called your name softly from the other room, and you stood slowly, bending to hug Dean, fighting like hell to keep yourself in check. You paused for a moment, whispering, “I love you, Dean,” before turning and walking away, not wanting to see his reaction to your words as you left the room, pulling the door shut behind you. If Rowena was right, he wouldn’t remember it, anyway. And if you couldn’t help him, none of it would matter. But at least he’d heard the words from you once.

Sam tossed your jacket to you as you entered the room. “We’re going to find the black grimoire. Gideon Loughlin’s address was in the accountant’s files. That’s where the spell came from that hexed Dean in the first place, the counter spell has to be in there.”

“But Dean…”

“Rowena will stay with him. If something happens, maybe she can do something to keep the spell from killing him until we can get back with the grimoire.” Sam put a hand on your arm, his eyes pleading. “Please. I need your help. There are still two witches in that house, and I don’t know what we’re walking into. I get it if you don’t want to go. But we have a better chance with the two of us.”

You stared into his eyes, finally nodding. “So let’s go kill some witches.”

An hour later, you were writhing on the floor in pain, Gideon’s sister laughing as she watched you and Sam’s agony. “Nice of you to stop by. After all, your brother took my brother’s life. It’s only right that you should give yours so I can bring mine back,” she taunted Sam, completely ignoring you. You itched to pull the gun from the back of your jeans and shoot her between the eyes, but you still couldn’t move. She and her brother wrestled Sam into a chair and tied him down, then tied your hands and relieved you of your gun.

“Cat, you got our brother killed,” Boyd spat at his sister, watching her open a black box and pull out a wicked-looking knife.

The witch rose to her feet, looking at the knife with a smile on her face. “Well, we can bring him back.” She turned at the sound of a door downstairs, then handed the knife to her brother. “Do it. Bring him back. Do it for me.” She left the room, and Sam began to talk softly, trying his best to convince Boyd to stop the ritual. You watched as the witch continued his preparations, carving a rune into his dead brother’s forehead, and you clenched your teeth in frustration at your helplessness, working at the ropes binding your hands. Sam was working on his restraints as well and you prayed one of you would be free before Boyd came near him with that knife.

You had managed to free one hand, and Sam had broken free and disarmed Boyd when you heard a gunshot from down below. Boyd shouted his sister’s name and ran from the room, with Sam and you close behind. Dean stood at the bottom of the stairs, gun still aimed at Cat’s now-dead body, Rowena standing nearby. As Boyd called out Cat’s name again, Dean whirled to aim at him. Then confusion flitted over his features, and he swung his arm to aim at Sam.

Your eyes widened, but before you could speak, Sam called out, “No, no! Brother!” He pointed at himself, then towards Boyd. “Witch!” Dean immediately moved his aim to Boyd and fired, the bullet hitting its mark, and the witch crumpled to the ground. Dean looked to Sam again with a proud smile on his face and a victorious thumbs-up.

You and Sam dragged the dead bodies from the house, sending Dean upstairs with Rowena. As you walked back inside after setting the bodies on fire, he came walking out of the upstairs room, standing at the top of the stairs with her by his side.

“Who’s this hippie?” he asked Rowena, staring at Sam. You felt your stomach drop, and Sam’s face was horrified, but a couple of seconds later the two of them started laughing. “Look at his face. Oh! Kind of like the time when I ate all your Halloween candy. You remember that? Classic.”

Sam shook his head and tried to smile. “Not funny.” You stared up at Dean, then ran up the stairs, drawing back your fist and punching him hard in the shoulder before throwing your arms around his neck.

Rowena delicately stepped her way around the two of you and went down the stairs. Dean stood frozen, not sure how to react to you. “Hey, I’m okay, really.” You finally loosened your grip and stepped down a step, looking up at him reproachfully.

“Sam’s right. Not funny.”

He rubbed his shoulder, and you shook your head, turning to go the rest of the way down the stairs. Sam let Rowena go out the door first, then followed her. As you took a step to join them, Dean grabbed your arm, pulling you back into the room. Before you had a chance to protest, he wrapped you in his arms, his lips finding yours as he crushed you to his chest. He kissed your breath away, then raised his head as you stared into his eyes, searching. “What…”

“Did you mean what you said?”

“What I said?”

“In the bathroom, before. Did you mean it?”

You swallowed, hard. “You – you remember what we said?”

“I remember you saying, ‘Don’t you forget it’ and then – you said ‘I love you, Dean.’ So did you mean it?”

Your eyes filled with tears, and you nodded, looking at his chest, unable to meet his gaze. “Yes. Yes, I meant it. I still mean it. I didn’t think you’d remember.”

He put a hand to your face and coaxed you to look up at him. “You told me not to forget. Sometimes when you’re bossy I actually listen.” You laughed in spite of yourself and he kissed you again, showing you how he felt in the way he knew best. “Sammy’s gonna come looking for us.”

“Yeah, we should go.”

“Continue this later?”

“Definitely.”

Tags for my lovelies:  @saenalife​    @deanscarlett​    @jensensgotyoudean    @jinkieswouldyoulookatthis​    @deansdirtylittlesecretsblog    @geeklibrarian    @leatherwhiskeycoffeeplaid     @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan    @mrswhozeewhatsis    @littlegreenplasticsoldier    @sleep-silent-angel    @darcia22    @winchesterprincessbride    @ellen-reincarnated1967    @eyes-of-a-disney-princess      @deanslittleangel2y5    @melanie451        @spectaculacular-sammy     @bookchic20    @jodyri    @selma-jean-blog           @savingapplepie-eatingthings    @kittenofdoomage    @masked-maiden42    @lean-mean-deanwinchester    @ericuhlorain    @undecided-garden    @ceeceewinchester    @typicalweirdbookworm          @callmesweetheartifyoumeanit    @youtoldalie    @tanithlowisabamf-blog    @deandoesthingstome    @jxackles    @nerdwholikesword    @soivebuiltupaworldofmagic    @kreweofimp  @gabavaldman    @chaos-and-the-calm67-blog    @darkx143    @disassociativedogma    @ioanashalala    @jencharlan    @deansthirstblog     @dorky-and-i-know-it    @mischief-maker1    @winchestersandwordprocessors    @percussiongirl2017    @bringmesomepie56   @akshi8278    @torn-and-frayed    @sandlee44   @wingedcatninja  @evansrogerskitten   @emoryhemsworth  @peaceinourtime82  @dean-winchester-is-a-warrior  @sarcasmqueen74   @maliburenee      @mrsjenniferwinchester  

[arcanadreams]

That time you and your demon boyfriend went viral

hi yes hello obey me fandom!! my name is Gabbi and i have never played a single second of the actual game but i have read enough fanon content for the past year to have this idea swimming around in my head and now i am finally letting this accursed thing out of my brain and putting it in yours

also i’m only doing the brothers because any more than that and i’d have an aneurysm probably. oh and shoutout to @obeythebutler and @beels-burger-babe for inspiring me with their works to feel brave enough to write for this fandom

Lucifer:

You and Lucifer go viral on Asmo’s Devilgram story!

You’re in the kitchen helping Asmo with dinner duty and singing along to one of your playlists of human realm music that you like to show him.

Asmo starts filming your cute little dance while you stir the pot on the stove because you are just adorable!

About ten seconds into him filming, Lucifer appears in the doorway with quite the stern look on his face. You know, the one that comes right before a “MAMMOOOOOON” and strikes fear into the heart of all those with functioning eardrums. That one.

He opens his mouth, presumably to tell y’all to shut the fuck up, but then there’s a lull in the music and the eldest can hear your voice ever so slightly above the song’s vocalist and he freezes.

Man stops in his tracks like someone just smacked him in the face with a midair volleyball.

Asmo can be heard stifling a laugh behind his phone.

Lucifer’s face gets so soft and he almost, almost, loosens his metal-rod-through-the-ass posture before you notice him and give a little wave and ask if you and Asmo were being too loud like the considerate darling you are.

Lucifer clears and his throat and says something like, “No, you aren’t. I was just coming to check on how dinner is coming along,” and leaves, after which Asmo immediately presses the post button.

Screenshots of Lucifer’s heart eyes for you go absolutely viral because every demon on Devilgram goes absolutely feral for seeing the eldest demon brother lose his dignified composure. It becomes a meme template. “Get you someone who looks at you like Lucifer looks at MC” and “me at the delivery demon when he shows up with my spicy bat wings” posts become commonplace. (Asmo thinks the memes are totally worth getting strung up with Mammon for laughing at them.)

Mammon:

Much like Lucifer, you and Mammon end up going viral off Asmo’s Devilgram. (Noticing a pattern here?) 

He pulls a silly prank on your asses and honestly I don’t know how you fell for it. But hey, they say “idiots in love” for a reason, so...

You and Asmo are sitting in the common room of the House of Lamentation just chillin. Well, he’s chillin, you’re on the floor studying for an upcoming exam.

The video starts in the middle of a conversation you and the avatar of lust were having.

“No, Asmo,” you say. “Mammon and I don’t use pet names for each other.” Now that’s just a darn lie, and every demon and crow within ten miles of Mammon and you together knows it.

“Really? I find that very hard to believe, MC.~” 

You sigh in response to Asmo’s teasing. “Okay, he has a lot for me but I’m just not much of a pet name person, y’know?” The rest of the exchange goes like this:

“Oh, I totally get it.” *pause* “Hey MC, what do human world bees make again?”

“Honey.”

Cue a sheepish Mammon sticking his head in the doorway at the bluntness of your tone when you answered Asmo.

“Yeah, babe?” he looks like a puppy left on the side of a highway oh my god hUG HIM-

Asmo turns the camera back to his smug ass face and in the background you can be heard tripping on the damn carpet trying to get up and hug your mans. (”MAMMON GET OVER HERE SO I CAN HUG YOU” “W-WHAT? I THOUGHT YA WERE MAD AT ME?!?!?!?!”)

Leviathan:

Streamer Levi? Streamer Levi.

You guys go viral the first time you make an appearance on one of Levi’s weekly (insert cool Devildom streaming service name here) streams. 

It’s completely unintentional. You had been asking him for weeks to play with him on there, but he’s the avatar of envy after all. He doesn’t like sharing his partner, even if it’s with random strangers who have no real access to you.

However, he has his stream on a Thursday instead of a Friday one week, and you come into his room carrying dinner because 1) You didn’t realize he was streaming and 2) No matter what he was doing, the boy needed to eat. It wasn’t unusual for you to bring him dinner, so you had no idea why he was blushing and stammering even more than usual this time in particular. Boy was speaking in beached whale trying to tell you what was wrong.

Then you notice his screen. Oh! “Hi chat!” You wave, setting Levi’s food down on his desk in front of his keyboard. “M-MC!” He full-on whines, slamming a hand over his mouth afterwards when he remembers his viewers could hear that.

Honestly, they’d meme the fuck out of him if it weren’t for the fact that they are FINALLY SEEING HIS HENRY!!! THE MYSTERIOUS MC!!!

Chat is bombarding you with questions while you make Levi eat dinner. And by make him eat dinner, I mean literally feeding this man forkfuls/spoonfuls while he games because you love how flustered he gets when you do that. 

Does it impact his score? Absolutely. Does he care? Not really when you’re pampering him like that.

You start answering chat’s questions about you while he’s chewing so he can’t tell you to stop LMAO-

You’re a natural on stream. The VOD becomes the most popular on Levi’s account in a matter of hours and soon cute highlights compilations of you and him on that stream start making the rounds on Devildom Twitter.

Satan:

There was buildup to Satan going viral, similar to Levi in a way. 

Satan does have a Devilgram, but it’s basically a white woman’s Instagram with added book reviews for variety. Unless you’re a reader his account is pretty boring: candles, books, fireplaces, and cats.

However, after you two started reading together fairly often he began posting pictures of your legs draped over his while you sat together. They’d always be captioned with vague ass pretentious literary criticism. 

This goes on for months, and he gains a lot of (horny) followers after the leg pics start up. He doesn’t really get why but you both joke that it’s because you have some damn nice legs and I mean neither of you are complaining about the new following.

You two go viral when he finally shows your face, entirely by accident.

The post is a video, which is already strange for him and grabs attention. In it, you’re scoffing and reading an excerpt of a book, mocking its understanding of female anatomy.

“I’m quoting here, Satan: ‘her breasts bouncing around like giant pacmen.’ I’M SORRY?? THAT ISN’T HOW BOOBS WORK SIR. WHY ARE MEN ALLOWED TO WRITE?” 

(fun fact that is a very real quote from a very real book I really read last month pls save me)

Originally the camera is focused on your body, with your head out of frame to protect your privacy, but your righteous anger made Satan laugh. Like, a real laugh. The one that makes you and everyone in earshot wonder if he truly was never an angel cause he sure as hell laughs like one but anyway-

When he threw his head back, his DDD angled up just a tad without him noticing, and your face was in view for like .2 seconds. Screenshots of it are making the rounds on Devilgram almost immediately: FINALLY THE LEGS’ OWNER HAS BEEN FOUND.

Satan apologizes profusely but you honestly find it funny and you two opt to just start taking selfies while reading with both of your faces in them from now on. 

Asmodeus:

I’m gonna be real with you: you and Asmo go viral all the time. Pretty much everything Asmo posts can be considered viral because of his social media following and his status as one of the seven avatars of sin.

However, there are some fairly cute highlights to be pointed out among the times you were both featured in a post that blew up.

Your favorite is probably that time Asmo livestreamed on of you guys’ ‘Nail Nites,’ as you call them.

You’re both on the floor, doing your nails and kicking your feet back and forth while talking to chat. A lot of the questions are about your relationship, and there’s a lot of flirting back and forth between the two of you.

A particular clip of the stream does blow the fuck up on Devilgram, though, when someone screen records it and posts it with a bunch of heart emojis edited over it.

“’What colors do you think best describe each other?’ Ooo, that’s a good one, chat!” Asmo claps his hands together excitedly, making sure to be  careful of his nails.

Pretty much everyone expected you to say pink, but you surprised both your boyfriend and your viewers when, after a pensive few moments, you replied with “Hmm...probably yellow or orange.”

“Can I ask why, darling?” Asmo tilts his head in confusion. I mean, yeah, those colors look good on him, but he doesn’t wear them often so he’s wondering about your thought process. 

“Well, in the human world those colors often represent happiness, optimism, and positivity. You’re always the cheerful presence I need in my life when things get hard, so you have the vibe of those colors.”

Asmo proceeds to burst into tears and hug you, messing up both of your nails and prolonging the stream since you both have to start over. But neither of you particularly care. 

Fun fact: Asmo has the clip that demon made of that portion of the stream saved on his DDD and watches it whenever he feels sad.

Beelzebub:

Beel and you probably go the most viral out of everybody. Like this moment is an entire phenomenon across the Devildom internet. 

It’s a video, or well, multiple videos, taken at the end of a Fangol game that Beel’s team had just won. Everyone is cheering and going crazy, yourself included, and you just really wanted to congratulate your boyfriend.

So, like the rational person you are, you elect to climb up onto the railing of the bleachers and wave to get his attention. 

You were absolutely fine up there, and sat all comfortably motioning Beel over to you. He notices, of course, and jogs over, standing right beneath you and looking up. (Back where you were sitting, Mammon is screeching like a hyena in heat and Belphie, who is laying down, has one eye open to glare at him. The youngest knows Beel would never let you hurt yourself; you’re fine.)

A bunch of assorted demons at the game has started filming while you were sat atop the railing since you were rather noticeable. Therefore, there’s a shit ton of different angles of the adorable events that follow:

You slide off the railing, landing right in Beel’s waiting arms bridal style. You’ve got this brilliant smile on your face as you pull his helmet off. None of the DDDs filming can hear it over the crowd noise, but Beel asks you why you just went through all that trouble and you tell him it’s because you wanted to tell him how proud you are.

Soft boy’s chest puffs up and he smiles this big cheesy smile at you reach up to run a hand through his hair. You feel him practically purr at the contact, and with a laugh you pull him in and plant a big ole smooch on him.

The crowd, at least those of them that can see, scream. Everyone is running high on adrenaline and happy emotions; something that cute causes a ruckus!! When you pull away Beel proceeds to put you on his shoulders and you celebrate with him and the rest of his team.

The videos of you two being adorable go completely viral and there are some threads dedicated to stockpiling every single angle taken of the event. Beel is completely oblivious to the attention but you have a lot of them saved on your DDD.

Belphegor:

If you think Belphegor has any sort of social media presence whatsoever then you are sorely mistaken. (Well okay he actually does run some anonymous troll accounts to meme on Lucifer’s posts but that’s neither here nor there-)

Therefore, naturally, you two go viral off of Asmo’s Devilgram. 

Okay so someone in the obey me tag the other say headcanoned that Belphie will go out of his way to nap in ridiculous places and my brain really took that and RAN WITH IT.

So what happens is that Belphie will fall asleep in the fucking weirdest places. I’m talking on top of the fridge, underneath the dinner table, on top of bookshelves...you name it, he has slept there, no matter the effort it takes to get there in the first place. 

And, ever since you two started dating, you would join him. Sometimes it involved putting yourself at risk of great bodily harm, but the little smile he gave when you he saw you fucking scaling the countertop to reach him made it worth it.

So anyway, since Beel adores the both of you to no end, he takes pictures whenever he sees you two napping together, whether or not it is in a crazy place. He sends these to the family group chat because he thinks they’re adorable.

Over a span of weeks to months, Asmo has built up a stock of images of you and Belphie cuddles up in seemingly impossible places. Once he has about ten or so, he posts a compilation of them to his Devilgram with some cheesy ass caption like “The things we do for love <3″.

They become a meme SO QUICKLY. Like UNBELIEVABLY quickly. 

The picture of you and Belphie sleeping on top of a bookshelf, in particular, is a big hit. Memes abound.

“If my girl doesn’t climb up a bookshelf to cuddle my ass, she don’t love me.” “Get yourself a partner who scales bookshelves just to be with your ass.” Etc etc...Belphie doesn’t give a shit but you laugh at a lot of them so he sees that as a good outcome.

[babymetaldoll]

Passive aggressive (Spencer Reid/Reader)

Requested: Yes!

Warnings: Cursing, a little angst, a lot of fluff. Spencer being an asshole.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader

Category: A little angst with a fluffy ending.

Summary: Spencer and his girlfriend don't know if they will survive their first fight.

Word count: 3.5 K

A/N: Hello my favorite people!! how are you doing? hope you are all safe!  here's a little "angsty" request. I had to pick between Gubler and Spencer, but I think Spencer suits better for this request. Hope you like it!

Masterlist

─────•~❉᯽❉~•─────

When (Y/N) fell in love with Spencer Reid, she couldn't think of anything wrong about him. Sure, she knew the man had flaws, but honestly, none of those actually bothered her. Not his rambling, not his lack of social cues. Neither his previous trauma nor how he kept moving his hands as he spoke, and how it gradually increased when the subject was about something he loved.

She liked all those things about him.

Spencer ignored all the flaws people pointed out about (Y/N), 'cos he was in love with her. He didn't care that she had a hard time sharing her feelings and that he had to basically profile her to get to know what was, in fact, going on with her. He didn't care that she was a little bossy from time to time, 'cos he loved making her happy.

All those things he could deal with, 'cos he loved everything about her.

But people don't warn you when you are dating for a long while. All those little things that don't matter can turn into a bunch of flaws that start driving you nuts. And after eight-month dating, their perfect honeymoon was over. Spencer Reid and his girlfriend were about to get into their first official fight.

No one prepared them for it.

- "Spencer? Can you help me, please?"- (Y/N) was in his room, folding bed sheets and towels.

- "In a minute!"- Spencer replied and didn't take his eyes from the book he was reading.

- "You said that twenty minutes ago"- (Y/N) frowned and dropped the clean sheets on their bed- "Please, Spencer. I'm tired, and I wanna go to bed. I'd finish folding the clean clothes if you helped me."

- "In a minute."- Spencer repeated and didn't even pay much attention to his girlfriend's annoyed tone of voice until it was too late. She was standing right next to her in the living room.

- "Spencer! Please! Fucking help me now!"- he raised both eyebrows and stared back at her, her cheeks red in anger and her hands clenched into fists.

- "Why are you talking to me like that? I haven't raised my voice to you."

- "'Cos I'm fucking tired, and you've been relaxing here for over an hour, while I do everything in the house, and you don't cooperate!"

- "Excuse me?"- Spencer stood up and took a look around- "Who cooked dinner?"

- "You did! and did you do the dishes? And cleaned the kitchen afterward? 'cos as far as I remember seeing it, it's still a mess!"

- "I'm gonna do it in a minute!"

- "No, you won't! You always do this! You make a big mess, pretend you'll clean it in a minute, and then you just leave it there until I do it!"- Spencer frowned and looked at (Y/N)'s angry face.

- "No, I don't! If anything! I am the one cleaning all the messes you leave around here all the time!"

- "What?!"- (Y/N) shriek, feeling almost insulted- "Which messes are you talking about?"

- "Top of my mind, all the hair you left in the shower! It was fucking disgusting!"

- "What?!"

- "If maybe you used all the freaking bobby pins you keep leaving everywhere, maybe the shower drain wouldn't get blocked!"

- "I didn't block the drain!"

- "And by the way, I told you I was going to help you with laundry. You didn't wait for me to it with you."

- "If I wait for you to help me, I'll run out of clean clothe, and I'll have nothing to wear tomorrow for work."

- "You do have a lot of clean clothing at your apartment! Maybe if you spent some time there, you'd see it. But you are always here!"

(Y/N)'s heart dropped. Since they had started dating eight months ago, they had spent most of their time in Spencer's apartment. She never overanalyzed it. They just did. (Y/N) loved Spencer's apartment 'cos it felt like home, and he always made her feel welcome.

Clearly, Spencer didn't feel the same. Not anymore, at least.

- "Sorry for intruding on your space, Spencer. I just thought you liked having me here!"- (Y/N) whispered with anger, trying not to cry, as she gathered all her things and put on her shoes.

- "I love having you here, but it's my house, and I don't appreciate you bossing me around, telling me what to do, when to do it, and how to do it, all the fucking time!"

Spencer kind of yelled, still mad, and not seeing the painful look in his girlfriend's eyes.

- "Well, enjoy your space. I won't tell you what to do anymore!"- and after those words, (Y/N) stormed out of the apartment, and Spencer sighed, staring at the empty space around him.

How did things get so out of hand? He had no idea. He didn't mean to hurt her, but the truth was that she was smothering him with all the nagging about the housework she kept doing. He didn't want her to do all the chores alone. He just had his own way of doing things, and he hated the fact she was imposing hers.

Could it have been said in a better way?

Yes. But Spencer didn't see that at that minute. He didn't realize how much he had hurt her. Why? Spencer didn't mean wrong, but he had no idea how hurtful his words could be when he was angry. And that night, Spencer was beyond angry.

Now, what's worse than having your first awful fight with your boyfriend? Having your first fight with your boyfriend, seeing him the day after at work, and having to act like everything is ok, 'cos you gave Hotch, your unit chief, your word your relationship wasn't going to get in the way of your work.

Bullshit! Of course, it was going to get in the way. Hotch knew it, (Y/N) Knew it, Spencer knew it. But the three of them pretended they had no idea what was going to happen.

Hotch thought Spencer and (Y/N) were going to be a mature young couple, 'cos he could see how much they loved each other. They had been in love with each other for so long before actually doing something about their feelings. Hotch thought they were never going to have any kind of trouble or argument.

He was so wrong it hurt.

The following morning, (Y/N) walked into the bullpen holding a black cup of coffee and headed straight to her desk. She waved at Emily and JJ and sighed, relieved, when she noticed Spencer was in the kitchenette with Morgan. That gave her the chance to casually ignore him and wait a little before dealing with him.

The truth was, (Y/N) was scared after their fight. She had known Spencer for over seven years, and she knew he had been honest about everything he had told her the night before. Everything. Sure, he yelled and hurt her. He didn't sugar-coat anything when he was mad. But he wasn't lying, and that was scary.

(Y/N) also knew Spencer was very passive-aggressive when he was upset. That was why she knew she had to be the bigger person and avoid him as much as possible while they were at work. Because, whatever she could say about the subject, or related, was going to trigger Spencer.

She remembered when Spencer got mad at JJ when he found out Emily wasn't dead. Spencer was hurtful when he was angry, and you don't want to be the target of his anger.

Spencer reached his desk and noticed his girlfriend was sitting all alone, practically hiding underneath a pile of files. His heart ached, staring at her for a second, fighting back the impulse of walking over and kissing her.

How long since he had kissed her? 14 hours, 17 minutes, 22 seconds. And counting.

But no. Spencer wanted to make a point, and he was still mad. He didn't want to cave in and lose that argument. Yes, it was their first fight, but he wanted to make a point. He didn't want her to boss him around in his own place and change his schedules. He had his own way of doing things. Like Paula Anka and Sinatra said: I did it my way.

Spencer had no idea, but his silence was slowly breaking (Y/N)'s heart more and more. She looked at him for a second, but he paid her no attention. Maybe it was better that way, she thought. She could focus on all the work she had to do.

But no. Of course, it didn't help.

When Penelope walked over and announced they had a case, half the team had already realized there was something wrong with their love bird. Spencer hadn't walked over (Y/N) with her favorite pastry soon after her arrival. She hadn't kissed him good morning. He hadn't spent half of the time staring at her from his desk. If anything, they had been ignoring each other most of the day.

Emily, JJ, and Derek looked at each other when (Y/N) stood up and walked alone to the conference room. Spencer didn't follow, didn't hold her hand. Didn't even look at her. He just gathered his things, put them in his satchel, and waited for a few minutes before standing up, just to make sure he wasn't alone in the room with (Y/N).

It was crystal clear: things were not going right.

Spencer ignored (Y/N) during the briefing at the jet, and he was relieved Hotch had paired him with Emily. (Y/N) focused on the case, and she was also glad she didn't have to see Reid during part of the day. She had to go to the last murder scene with Derek. It was sad and disturbing, but directing her attention to the case gave her a break and even some peace of mind.

- "What happened between you and pretty Ricky?"- Morgan was driving the SUV, and (Y/N) kept her eyes glued to the window.

- "We had a little argue"- she whispered- "Thank you for making me realize we are not subtle."

- "You are not glued to each other. That's weird. I haven't seen you two apart since you joined the BAU."- Derek chuckled and looked at (Y/N). Her arms were crossed on her chest, and her eyes were teary.

- "Wait, pretty girl. It was just a silly argument, right?"- Derek didn't even consider the couple could break up. Ever. For Derek, his best friend and his girlfriend were it for each other.

- "I don't know. I know I have to give Spencer a little space to cool off, but the more I think about it, the worst it feels."

- "But, (Y/N). He loves you. You can't let that go."- she cut him a short smile and nodded.

- "I love him too. Sometimes you wonder if that's enough, though. Maybe it was better for us when we were platonic."

- "You can't be serious"- Morgan frowned, and (Y/N) just shrugged- "Spencer is crazy for you. No matter what he said, he loves you."

Morgan was right. Spencer loved (Y/N) more than he loved himself. But he wasn't ready to let that one argument go just yet. Besides, the doctor focused on work that week. That case occupied 99% of his mind during the next couple of days.

(Y/N) knew that's how he usually worked. And the frustration that the case caused them, plus the anger he still felt after their fight, didn't make a good person out of Spencer. If anything, he was looking for a reason to start an argument with pretty much everyone, especially with (Y/N).

- "We have to consider this unsub is not acting on a fantasy. He is looking for revenge, and he is escalating quickly."- Hotch said, going over the files again.

- "But if the murderer spends time with them in their houses and kills them with something they own, something that actually means something for them, I think we might be looking for a woman. This is too personal, and at the same time, it feels domestic"- (Y/N) analyzed, staring at the latest murderer's scene pictures.

- "Perhaps the Freds didn't help her fold the clean sheets."- Spencer whispered and shook his head. (Y/N) held her breath and stood up. She had to move away from Spencer to avoid answering that kind of comment.

Unlucky for her, Spencer wasn't close to being done. And for the rest of the night, he whispered hurtful comments and kept breaking her heart over and over again. (Y/N) knew Spencer was mad, but she didn't imagine how much. Maybe she had pushed him too hard. What if that was it? If that fight meant the end for them? She was actually scared to ask.

After catching the murderer and solving the case, (Y/N) sat on her own on the jet back home, hugging her legs on her seat. Emily looked at her from behind her book and decided her friend needed some love. She poured a cup of earl grey and walked to her with a warm smile.

- "You are my hero, Emily Prentiss."- (Y/N) whispered and held her cup.

- "Well, it comes with the job. I can read it all over your face: you need tea, a warm bath, and fix things with Reid."

(Y/N) closed her eyes and sighed. Spencer was at the other side of the jet, asleep. Or well, pretending to be asleep just to avoid talking to her. She knew it, and it didn't make her feel better at all.

- "I don't know what happened, Em. But I think this might be it" Prentiss wide opened her eyes at those words and held (Y/N)'s hand right away.

- "No way. He is crazy for you."

- "Yeah, it's funny 'cos Morgan said the same a few days ago. But after this week, I think I actually drive him crazy in a sick bad smothering way. I really think I fucked things up"- (Y/N) was fighting the tears back and looked over the window to avoid human contact, though Emily still held her hand.

- "(Y/N), you have to talk to him. He loves you. He is not good with social cues and facing people. You know that."

- "Yeah, I know. But I thought it was going to be different with me. It's me, it's him. This was supposed to work easily. I guess I was wrong".

- "Nothing worth doing comes easy, (Y/N)"- Prentiss whispered and squeezed her friend's hand- "Don't give up on Spence."

(Y/N) didn't want to give up. But she was scared Spencer had already decided. It looked that way after his cold and mean attitude those days. When the jet landed, she tried to walk to him and talk, but he avoided her and just left.

(Y/N) walked to her car and sat behind the steering wheel. Finally, alone after a rough couple of days, she burst into tears. She was scared and frustrated, and most of all, anxious to know what was going to happen. That was a terrible mix of feelings.

She knew that she didn't want to push Spencer to continue a relationship that might make him miserable. That's why, after taking a few minutes to calm herself down, she texted him.

- "I'm sorry things got till this point. I didn't mean to make you feel so bad. I understand if you want to break up. I'll pick up my things tomorrow."

Spencer felt his cellphone hum as he walked into his apartment, holding a box of tandoori chicken. He thought for a second it might be Hotch with another case, and sighed annoyed just at the thought of missing the chance to relax on his own again.

But when he read it, it was actually worse.

He left the food on the table and read the text over and over again.

What had he done? Why did (Y/N) think he wanted to break up with her? That wasn't his plan at all. He just wanted to prove a point. Not end with their relationship.

Did he push things too far?

Did he act like an asshole?

Did he ruin everything?

Spencer stared at his apartment, and his heart ached. He didn't care if (Y/N) changed everything around. He just wanted her there, with him. Always. He could do laundry whenever she wanted to. He could fold sheets whenever she asked him to. He could be as domestic as she wanted him to be if that meant that she would stay with him.

(Y/N) drove back home. She thought about getting something for dinner, but honestly, all she wanted was to get into her bed and try to sleep. Spencer didn't reply to her text, which somehow surprised her. A part of her was waiting for him to tell her he didn't want to break up. But that silence was the confirmation she didn't want to have: it was over.

The young agent did her best to remain calm as she drove back home. She didn't want to cry. She could listen to Spencer's voice at the back of her head giving her some statistics about people crushing their cars when they drove under emotional distress.

(Y/N) made it to her building, parked the car, and literally dragged herself upstairs. She was about to reach her apartment when she saw him. Spencer Reid, waiting for her, sitting on the floor, his back resting against her door. She froze for a few seconds, looking at him, confused. He stared back at her and held his breath. Her eyes were puffy and red, her face was pale, and yet, she was the most beautiful woman he had ever set eyes on.

- "(Y/N), I'm so sorry."- Spencer whispered and stood up. He walked to her and held her hands. She didn't follow, so she stayed in silence. Spencer lifted her hands until they reached his face and caressed himself with them carefully for a few seconds, tears falling from his eyes.

- "I'm so sorry, I was an asshole."- he murmured and kissed her hands over and over again as he sobbed.

- "Spencer..."- she whispered and stared at him confused- "I'm sorry."

- "No, I am. I was mean to you, and you didn't deserve it. You have to know how much I love you. How deeply in love I am with you. I love spending all my time with you. I don't want you to live twelve and a half blocks away from my apartment. I want you there all the time. Or I can be here all the time. I just... don't want to lose you."

- "I don't wanna lose you either"- (Y/N) managed to say- "I'm sorry I was so bossy and that I invaded your space."

- "No, I'm sorry I was an asshole and so passive-aggressive with you. I love you. I promise I will never act like that again"- Spencer hugged her and hid his face on the crook of her neck. (Y/N) hugged him too and breathed in his smell, feeling at home right away.

- "I missed you so much"- Spencer held her face with both hands and kissed her sweetly, rubbing his lips against her with such love and tenderness, (Y/N) felt her heart skipping a beat.

- "I missed you more"- she sighed into the kiss and held him closer.

- "I swear, I'm never going to hurt you again, buttercup."

- "I'm not going to nag you again. I don't care if you don't fold sheets, chipmunk"- (Y/N) smiled and rested her forehead against his for a moment.

- "You are doomed, (Y/N), 'cos I'm gonna do whatever you ask me to do from now on."- Spencer leaned in and kissed her again, feeling her smiling against his lips.

- "I just want you to be happy with me, Spencer"- she murmured- "I never want to make you feel like I'm invading your space or being bossy."

- "Then move in with me"- he said and smiled like a mad man- "I don't want it to be my apartment anymore. I want it to be ours. Let's find a place for the both of us, so we can make it our home."

(Y/N) stared into Spencer's eyes, and all she could read was his excitement and adoration. So she giggled and nodded.

- "Yes! I wanna have a home with you!"- she answered and nearly started jumping- "Come on, let's go inside so we can start looking for a new apartment. Or a house!"- her excitement was contagious, and it made SPencer chuckle.

- "Or we can have make-up sex first,"- he suggested, and (Y/N) dropped the keys she was holding. "Did you know when we argue, post-powerful hormones are released? The rush of adrenaline, noradrenaline, and testosterone triggers a state of extreme arousal. The perception of threat combined with the influence of the hormones on our brains is what takes us from seething with anger to seething with desire..."

- "I love it when you talk dirty to me, Spencer Walter Reid"- (Y/N) opened the door, and the couple rushed in. They hated to argue, but at least something god had come out of it.

------

Spencer Taglist

@calm-and-doctor @all-tings-diego

[writer-akihiko]

Hello, so this is my first request !!

Can I have an mc who is always clumsy with Arthur, Theo and Leonardo from IkemenVampire please :D

Thank you very much 🙏🏽

Clumsy!MC: Arthur, Theo + Leonardo

Thank you for the fluffy ask! It's nice to have fluffy asks before I bring out the typical yandere and angst for me... Warning: For Leonardo's scenario, there is name calling towards the Reader

Arthur Conan Doyle

Arthur isn't someone to tease you for being clumsy, but it impressed him how you managed to somehow be clumsy at your every waking moment

He finds himself following you around, finding the right moments to rescue you moments before you fall

Even if it weren't for your sake, he'd help you out when setting the table so you got less nervous about serving yourself

He'd make excuses for you when Sebastian would show the slightest annoyance to you. With Arthur, you felt as much more confidence in what you did, since he was

He had finally invited the woman of his affections out on an official date, marking the beginning of your relationship. Considering that it was an outdoor picnic, Vic couldn't help but scramble along, following you at your legs as if to warn you of any trip hazards.

With an outstretched hand, Arthur guided you to the hill of your date location, "I'd be lying if it weren't tempting for me to carry you around in my arms, love. Can't have you trip and ruin the outfit you put your time and effort in, after all~"

The picnic started out well, albeit Vic was quick to get restless, hopping away in pursuit of a butterfly. Without a word, you picked up your skirts, chasing after Vic. In your chase, you had gotten close enough to Vic but tripped over your own feet in an attempt to not step on the tiny dog. The weight of your body leaned to one side, as you felt the pull to the ground-

"Oof!" Your head hit a hard chest, immediately wincing at the impact.

"Love, I anticipated in the near future that we would be entangled, but surely not in public like this…" Arthur huffed out, sitting up straight with you in your arms. The enthusiastic Vic was quick to stop in his tracks, bounding over to you and Arthur.

With Arthur's arm wrapped around your waist, he inched closer to your face, pressing a warm kiss to your cheek, his lips lingering and ghosting your face for just a moment, before pulling away. "I couldn't help it… you're simply too kissable, love."

Theodorus Van Gogh

Initially, he'd shamelessly laugh at your clumsy moments, where it'd be mixing up flavourings or overpouring the tea

You'd pout at him, taunting him to do a better job. Of course he pulls it off flawlessly, so it turned into a banter of back and forth between you and Theo

He'd always say something among the line of tripping over your paws, but somehow he'd always look out for you before disaster ever struck

Theo doesn't mind that you were constantly clumsy. It was no surprise that he'd stay next to you… It was as if he was always watching over your shoulder…

Theo was eager to see how much you improved with your tea serving skills. Considering that Comte had asked you for a favour, you insisted on Theo being your practice partner. King was also happy to help, with him acting as your assistance to open the door when you'd serve the dishes.

You were careful with your steps, making sure to serve tea in proper fashion, pouring tea for Theo. "How many sugar cubes, Sir?"

He hummed, taking attention to the effort you put in. Everything went great so far, which, once he thought about it was a little suspicious… Nonetheless, he was pleased with how far you'd come. It made him a little regretful that he treated you in such a way, but he was already planning a date in his head as a reward for his sweet Hondje…

"Seven, please."

You couldn't help but break your serious demeanour. For as much as Theo would tease you about your clumsiness, it was the rare occasions that you would get to tease him back about his sweet tooth.

As you were about to reach for the sugar cubes, King was oh so kind to sniff up your heels, thinking you were about to give him a treat. The sudden feeling of a cold nose made you jump. You felt your butt land on someone, and that someone was Theo, who caught you just in time.

"My silly Hondje, were you actually clumsy or were you eager to be on my lap?"

You squirmed in Theo's lap, but to your surprise, he wouldn't let go of your waist. His grin drew you in, as you listened to what he had to say. "I don't see why you have to leave yet. Your reward was to be a date in the town, but my clumsy Hondje took the liberty of rewarding herself already~" And that was when you felt a soft peck on your forehead…

Leonardo Da Vinci

He was not one to comment on your clumsy behaviour, after all, it'd be hypocritical of him to do so considering he was a slob

At first, he didn't consider you to be clumsy since you were tripping and toppling over objects in his room, which he assumed was his fault anyway

It was then he noticed Sebastian's ever much frustrations with you during breakfast hour, and he realised Sebastian paired you both up for a reason…

He never really minded your behaviour afterwards, but that doesn't mean he ignored you. In fact, he was more attentive to you, keeping an eye on you just in case… that somehow the attentiveness turned into affection

Leo took the liberty to change your outing into a date instead, as you ran your errands. This time however, the rush from one shop to another didn't seem so obvious, as if the world slowed down around you and Leonardo. With Leonardo's amiable personality, it was a breeze to visit the crevices of the town, even places you had never heard of before.

It was then the moment you realised it was time to head to the mens' wear. Leonardo was about to lead you in as he always did, with you strung on his arm, but he noticed your hesitance. "What is it cara mia?"

"I… The last time I came to send Comte's coat, I spilled someone's shoe shine on the floor. Another gentleman scolded me, but I helped the shopkeeper clean up!" You said, explaining that the shopkeeper didn't mind the accident since you were Comte's assistant.

"Cara mia… the man who got upset at you… he's no gentleman."

Despite your pleas not to, Leonardo insisted on protecting you. He was quick to notice the noble who probably scolded you, judging by the sour face as he gave you. The shopkeeper was quick to hand you over the coat you needed, but of course, nothing could be said about the way the noble was quick to criticise you.

"So Miss Stupid brought a bodyguard this t-"

"Stai zitto, bastardo…" Leonardo huffed, blowing on his fist after delivering a well-deserved punch. He quickly apologised for the scene, escorting you out of the shop.

Considering the amount of things you had to get, it was safer to go back by carriage. As Leonardo closed the door behind you, he brushed your hair aside, peppering a few kisses on your cheek to cheer you up. "Now, don't look so sad, cara mia. No one gets to insult you like that… You are the smartest woman I know, even if you are a little clumsy~"