#if you guys want links to the fics i found i can throw them in the comments i have not stopped thinking about them since i read them

[super-secret-clown-corner]

i found the lifesteal fanfiction (my ace ass still can't comprehend relationships and how they form lmfao i'm living in some wild qpr fantasy of my own creation)

[ashwhowrites]

Just found all your wonderful angst fics and honestly I feel like there is a distinct lack of HURTS SO GOOD angst out there. So I am DE-LIGH-TED to have found you. Thank you for your words and your writing. ❤️

But I have a request because of course I do! Eddie Munson!

So: angst: 30, 32 and then fluff: 16 and angry confessions 9 (except if I may be extra needy and request that we change the her in 30 to a them? Twins. One boy and the other authors choice.)

The idea: Eddie and reader started dating at Hawkins High and about a year or two after graduating someone from a label hears the band and wants an EP recorded in an actual studio! The band travels to the nearest studio.

When Eddie returns he tells reader that his dream is coming true the label is ready to sign them and they want them to start touring this year and opening for bigger bands to get their name out.

Reader overhears Eddie talking with the label guy. Eddie wants to bring reader on the tour and label guy shuts it down and says ‘end the relationship so you can actually enjoy the fame.’ He asks if Eddie is gonna marry reader and Eddie gets nervous and says idk, reader is hurt by that. Label guy asks if they have kids and Eddie is a little too enthusiastic in saying no and he doesn’t know if he wants kids. (Insecure about what kind of dad he’d be) and label guy tells Eddie this tour will make or beak his future and he needs no distractions. And a girl back home? Distracting.

Reader is then horrified that she’ll ruin Eddie’s dream. She breaks up with him before the tour, hiding the real reason. She wants him to have his dream even if it kills hers. Eddie leaves on tour mad and heartbroken.

Reader finds out she is pregnant after Eddie leaves. The band is supposed to come back to Hawkins after a few months on tour. Eddie promised he and reader would talk more about their relationship and reader will tell him then.

The band is insanely successful on tour. Eddie doesn’t come back. Doesn’t answer calls, letters. Reader stops trying after a year.

The twins are around five when Eddie, now a known rockstar, returns to his hometown. Meet-cute of adorable twins and Eddie occurs.

You ARE the father!

Eddie and reader talk/fight. But happy ending when all is said and done, back together and a family.

Sorry this is so long but ily and your writing❤️❤️❤️

I hope this is what you wanted and thank you for requesting! I hope you enjoy it 🫶🏻 I did only pick the two you resent, thank you for that! I feel like this fic is a bit all over the place but I think I included everything you asked 🤞🏻

I just sent that long request and I’m so sorry I didn’t see the no more than two limit on the prompt list link. Please feel free to shorten those to angst 30 and fluff 16 Thank you.

"There's not a single reason I can't think of for me to let you see her. You may be her father, but I'm her everything"

"I never thought I could miss someone this much"

"Baby you will not believe what just happened!" Eddie said as he came rushing out from the backroom. He was drenched in sweat, as he finished his set with the band.

"What?" Y/N asked, she pushed back his sweaty bangs and his hands landed on her hips

"This dude from some label liked our set! He wants us to visit his studio and perform a few songs. Then if he likes it, he'll sign us!" Y/N smiled as her boyfriend's eyes were bright with happiness. His smile was so huge and his voice was loud.

"That's amazing, oh my god!" She exclaimed, throwing her arms around him and pulling him into a hug. She didn't mind the sweat, she had been with Eddie for years and grew used to it.

The next day Y/N waited in their small apartment as Eddie attended the studio. She paced through their carpet as she stared at the door. She was so nervous for him, this could be his big break. And if he didn't get it, she wasn't sure how he would handle it.

She ran to the door as she heard the lock turn, giving him no time to walk into the house when she raced out all her questions. He smiled as her mouth ran until she almost lost breath, he leaned in and pecked her lips.

"Good?" he asked, a small chuckle leaving his lips

"Yeah, sorry," she said as she took in as much air as she could. She let him through the door and waited for him to speak. He closed the door and turned to her with a smirk.

"Well?" she asked, smacking his arm as she bounced on her feet

"Want to have sex with a newly signed rockstar?" he asked, opening his arms as he knew his girlfriend too well.

"OH MY GOD!" she screamed with excitement, throwing herself in his arms. She was practically jumping in his arms. He was damn excited too, and his heart felt full of how happy she was for him. He never would have made it without her.

"And! He wants us to tour next month, open for some other bands of his to get our name out there!"

Y/N pulled back to see his face but stayed in his arms.

"Next month? For how long?" she asked. She was happy this was going to happen for him, but she was sad at how fast he would be yanked from her.

"Just a few months, less than a year. But I promise I'm not leaving you behind, okay?" she smiled at his words, nodding as she softly placed her lips on his.

"Shall we celebrate Mr. Rockstar?" she whispered against his lips, teasing him as she bit his lower lip. "In the bedroom."

"I think I wanna celebrate right here," Eddie growled, wasting no time as he smashed his lips on hers and tasted her mouth with his tongue. He pressed her body against the door and was fast to unbuckle his jeans.

~~~

A few days passed when Nick, the label guy, showed up at their apartment. Y/N left Eddie with a kiss and headed to their bedroom as the band talked. The walls were thin so she could hear the conversation, but still wanted to feel as she gave them privacy.

They talked about the basics of everything and Y/N tried not to listen in too much. But once she heard the band leave and her name was brought up, she couldn't help but listen in.

"I want to do this tour, and I know the band wants it. But my girl is here, she and I haven't been separated in years. She is in full support and I want her to come with," Eddie explained. Y/N smiled at his words, her heart beaming with love.

"Does she have a ring on her finger?" Nick asked, Y/N couldn't see his face but he sounded annoyed.

"Well no but-"

"Are you going to put a ring on her finger anytime soon?"

Y/N held her breath as she waited for Eddie's response

Eddie stuttered as his throat felt dry, "Well..I..I don't know." he chuckled uncomfortably

Well that hurt, Y/N thought. They had been together for over three years and he had no time frame of when he wanted to get engaged? Was he even thinking of a ring?

"Got any kids with her?" Nick asked

"Hell no," Eddie laughed, "Pretty sure I don't even want any."

Y/N felt her heart snap into two. This whole time she thought they were dreaming of the same future. She wanted a ring and kids with Eddie, and it hurt like hell that he was on a different page.

"Son, you are about to go on a world tour. You are going to be in a different state every night. Let the girl go and enjoy the fame. This is your first and only chance to make something of yourself. You don't want distractions. She's a chick, and chicks bring drama. You pick Eddie."

Y/N blinked away tears as the front door slammed shut. She was quick to jump in bed when she heard Eddie begin walking to the room.

~

Y/N was up all night as she repeated Nick's words in her head. She couldn't make Eddie choose between his dream and her. She could feel how tense his body was as he slept, Nick's words weighing him down too.

She knew Eddie loved her too much to break up with her, and he wouldn't break his promise of not leaving her behind. But he needed to go, he needed this for his career. She loved him strong enough to let him go without her.

~~~

"Eddie? Can we talk?"

Eddie looked up from his guitar, brown eyes worried. "What's wrong?" He was quick to grab her hand and pull her between his legs. He sat on the bed and she stood before him, tears in her eyes.

"You know how we talked about me staying here while you go on tour?"

"Yeah, but only because of Nick. If I could have it my way, you'd be right there," he said with a smile as he softly rubbed her hand.

She hated how sweet he was, it was making this all much harder.

"I'm a little worried about us being separated that long," she said

"Trust me, I'm coming home to you and none of my feelings are going to change just because of the distance" he tried to reassure her. He knew Y/N was the love of his life and he'd never ruin what they had.

"What if things on the road change your beliefs? You know, what if..." She slowly trailed off.

"What if, what?" He asked, confused as he looked in her eyes for answers.

"What if you meet someone else? There's going to be a lot of girls throwing themselves at you"

"They can throw themselves at me as much as they want, they'd never make me forget about you. I love you and I'd never ruin what we have for a random girl on the road," he explained

"I don't know if I can believe you," she lied, "what if you get in trouble with drugs? And you can't stop and fall addicted? You have many addicts in your family and one weak moment, you might find a girl to make it feel better," she could see her words were starting to take effect on him. His eyes gloss over with anger, but that's what she needed. He didn't need her holding him back and being a distraction.

"Wow," he scoffed, standing up. "I haven't touched any other drug except weed my whole life. And you think I'm that stupid that I'd dive right into hard core shit just because I'm on tour? I can get the same shit down the block!" He argued.

"Have you ever been tempted?" She asked

"Fuck no, but you probably wouldn't believe that either," he said as he rolled his eyes. "I mean we've been together for years, I understand this is a big change for us, but why do you suddenly think I won't have any self control?"

Because I'm making all of this up so you'll leave pissed off and I won't be a distraction, she thought.

She was silent and Eddie felt himself growing angier by it.

"Because I won't be there!"

"Oh now the truth comes out. You don't think I can say no. You think a slutty girl will jump on my lap and you think I'll just love it and fuck her. Then she'll bring me to a party with hard drugs and before I know it I'm snorting drugs off her body." He laughed, but it had no humor behind it. She knew she was hurting him but that meant everything was working.

"If you really think that I would cheat on you, then maybe we weren't as strong as I thought" he added, his voice a little sad as he sat back down.

"I think it's best if we take a break while you're on tour. And you can do whatever you want on it, and we'll talk when you come back."

Eddie nodded at her words. He didn't agree with anything but he wasn't going to try to change her mind. She had this view of him and he couldn't fix it.

~~~

The first few weeks with Eddie gone was hell. Y/N cried every morning and every night. She was in so much pain and hated she couldn't reach for him. She wanted to call and tell him the truth, that everything was a lie and she did it so he could be happy. But the suffering was becoming too much and she just wanted to be with him again, in his arms and in his heart. She couldn't forget the broken look in his eye when he left, the loudness of the door as it slammed.

She found out she was pregnant, adding more guilt to her life. He was supposed to come home at the end of the month, and he promised before he left that they would talk about their relationship. He didn't want to give up on them and she believed that.

But then the end of the month came and she hadn't heard a word. Her calls went unanswered and his body never walked through the front door. She wanted to tell him she was pregnant when she saw him in person again but she wasn't sure went that would be. She didn't know if he was in town or where he ended up, all she knew was that he wasn't coming back to her right now. She kept calling and wrote letters to his management, but no response.

She waited and waited, maybe the tour added more dates. They were broken up so she didn't expect him to update her on everything but she wished he'd answer at least one call.

She called every day for a year, and never once did her phone ring back.

~~~

Five years passed and she gave up on Eddie, she gave up years ago when he refused to come back to her. She figured she caused too much pain and broke his heart so he moved on. The thought killed her but him being happy was all she wanted in life.

It turned out she was pregnant with twins, a boy and a girl. They reminded her of Eddie, some days it made her happy, and other days it killed her. They didn't know a life with a dad so she never spoke to them about it, and they never asked. To them just having mom was normal and she didn't want to disturb that. Because she honestly didn't think she'd ever see Eddie again.

"Christopher, you need to stop running!" Y/N scolded as she pushed Beverly on the swing set. The boy laughed as he ran faster, his curls bouncing with every step.

She groaned as she gave Beverly another push and then ran after him.

Once she caught him, she got them ready in the car. She loved her kids but damn they were so energetic, and she knew who they got it from.

They looked alike in ways, the same brown curly hair, Beverly's was longer. Same eyes and the same sass.

She sighed in relief when she pulled up to the house, ready to put them in a room and have time to herself. But her stomach turned when a black SUV was parked in the driveway.

"Momma, who's that?" Christopher asked, his curious eyes settled on the car. The windows were dark and they couldn't see in it.

"I don't know. I'll go check, stay here." She said, she got out of the car and walked over to the car. Before she could walk up to knock on the driver's window, the back door opened. She froze in her spot.

Eddie exited out of the car, hair tied up in a bun but a few curls loose on his forehead. He had many more tattoos, his arms covered in ink until it disappeared under his short sleeve. He wore sunglasses, which she was thankful for. She feared if she could see his eyes she'd melt in a puddle.

"Hi stranger, can we talk?"

His voice sent shivers down her spine. She's only heard it on the radio, either his songs or an interview. She never had the heart to turn it, always wondering if he was happy. If chasing him away was the right decision.

"I...I... Eddie...I" she stuttered, completely in shock as he stood in front of her. He was real, and he was here, after five long years. "I can't right now, but tonight? I can meet you somewhere." She said, her eyes looking back to her car and then to him.

He looked at her car and looked back, he couldn't see inside but he knew there was someone she didn't want him to see. He figured it was a new boyfriend or something, he couldn't help but look down at her hand. Relief in his stomach when he didn't see a ring. She must have not lived alone, he suspected since she didn't want him inside.

"Sure, had to get a new number so here," he said as he handed her a piece of paper. "Text me when and where and I'll be there."

She smiled as she took the piece of paper, hoping she was covering how much anxiety she had.

"You look incredible, by the way." He said as he got in the car. She watched as the door slammed and the car backed out of the driveway.

~

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" Steve asked. Steve was one of her best friends from high school and he knew the truth about everything. He was the godfather to her kids and he spoiled the crap out of them. But he was also her rock, she couldn't imagine doing everything on her own.

"It's just dinner, Steve," she said as she tore apart her closet.

"Just dinner?" He chuckled, "Then why did you take half an hour in the shower, and now tearing apart your closet for something sexy to wear?" He asked, a smirk on his face as she froze.

She coughed and yanked the dress off the hanger. "I don't know what you're talking about"

Steve laughed as her bathroom door closed. "I suppose I'll take the kids and leave!"

"I'll call you when I'm on my way to pick them up!" She said through the door

~

Y/N felt like she was going on a first date all over again. Her stomach was filled with butterflies, but all the fluttering made her feel like she was going to be sick.

She knew Eddie, but she didn't know this new version of him. She didn't know the Rockstar and the man with all the fame.

She wasn't sure why he wanted to talk. It has been five years and she accepted he'd never come back to her. But now he was but for what? Did he want to get back together? Even though they haven't talked in five years. Did he want to rub it in her face that he made it big without her? Thank her for being the reason he left in the first place?

She swallowed nervously as she walked into the small restaurant, the lights were dim creating a romantic atmosphere. Eddie was already at a table, sipping on a beer.

"Sorry, hope you weren't waiting long," she said as she took a seat.

He perked up in his seat, "No I just got here, you're fine." He said with a smile. She forgot how calm she felt near him, seeing his smile and eyes made all her anxiety melt away.

"I told you she would show up!" The young waiter said as he patted Eddie on the back. Eddie gave the waiter a side eye as his face blushed. "At least you only had to wait half an hour, a guy last night waited two full hours before he gave up." The waiter laughed.

Y/N and Eddie were quick to order another drink and send him on his way. Eddie wanted to smack his head against the table once he left.

"Thirty minutes? Thought you just got here," she teased, laughing softly.

"Little white lie," he chuckled

They laughed until it died in silence. They stared silently at each other, memorizing each other's faces.

"That's a beautiful dress," Eddie said. A nervous cough followed and he took a swig of his beer. She made him nervous, he felt like he was meeting her for the first time all over again. Everything he said or did tonight had to impress her. Almost like he had to win her over.

"Oh thank you," she said as she pushed down the material on her thighs. "You look good, and the new tattoos are incredible." She complimented, itching to push up his sleeve and see how far up the tattoos went. She wondered if he had any more in other places, and how many different women got to see them, feel them, and trace them. She used to trace his ink after sex all the time, and her stomach felt unsettled thinking about all the other women who touched his new ink before she had the chance. She never thought she'd share his body with anyone new, it was hers for life, at least it used to be.

"Thank you," he said. He was guilty of thinking the same thing she was. He wanted to reach over the table and run her fingers up and down his arm. He craved to feel her soft touch on his skin, tracing the shapes and planting wet kisses on his neck. He shivered at the memories that played through his head.

"How was, uh tour?" She asked. She knew bringing it up would make them uncomfortable, and she was right. The second tour left her lips, and both of their bodies went stiff.

"It was great," he said, unable to look in her eyes as he traced the top of his glass. "Touring for five years seems crazy now, but once I started I didn't want to stop."

She felt his words hit her like a blow, but he got his dream.

"I'm really glad it worked out and you guys got to tour for many more years." She meant it. Even though the space between them killed her, she couldn't have been more proud of him.

"Yeah, but I'm back in town for good. And I know when I left things weren't right between us. I don't know if you are seeing someone or anything, but I came back to you for a reason," he explained. He played with his rings, showing her he was just as nervous about this conversation as she was.

"What's the reason, Eddie?" She asked, but she had a good feeling about what he was going to say. And if he did say it, she was going to get pissed.

"I miss you and I miss us. I thought if I kept the tour going, I'd never have to face how shitty everything was without you."

"Do you remember when you promised me we'd talk about it when you came back? As in years ago? I was waiting for you. I was waiting like a god damn idiot. You miss me? Well, screw you." She spat, already planning to stand up but he was quick to grab her hand and pull her back down.

"I know! Okay, I know. I was pissed off when I left and hurt that you believed I would ever cheat on you. I was angry and each time I performed I got more angry. I was singing about a girl that didn't trust me to not fuck up without her there. It fucked with my head and I started to wish I hated you, and that broke my heart." He explained, "Then you'd call and all I wanted to do was answer and tell you how bad you fucked with my head. That this tour was supposed to be everything to me and I hated every second of it because all I could think about was if you were trusting me or not." Eddie ranted, trying his best to stay calm.

"If you were so mad at me that you wanted to hate me, why didn't you at least try to talk to me?"

"You broke up with me, I didn't want to talk to you. Is that so wrong of me?" Eddie asked

"I mean no, but at least one phone call would have been nice. Even if you told me to fuck off and never talk to you again, at least it would have told me where we stood. I waited for you to come home and you didn't bother to tell me you changed your mind. You talked about not changing, but you did change. You broke a promise, and you never break those." She argued, taking deep breaths as she felt the need to cry.

"I'm sorry that I never communicated. I was at these parties and girls were throwing themselves at me, just like you said. I didn't want any of them, never even blinked in their direction. I wanted to prove that I could be someone you could trust. And then I thought I shouldn't have to prove that to you because I've been loyal since the day we got together. What you said wasn't fair. I'm being as honest as I can. You broke my heart and I wanted to hurt you." He felt bad for saying it but he never told her how much pain she caused him.

"Everything you felt was valid. I did ask for a break and I put us in that situation. I'm really sorry for hurting you. But I can explain why," she sighed

"I didn't want to break up or anything. I wanted to stay together, no matter how long you would be gone. I love you, Eddie and that never changed. But I was scared that if you stayed with me, you'd regret it."

"Baby, why would I ever regret you?" His voice sounded sad. She sniffled back tears and continued.

"I overheard you and Nick talking. I was fine with staying back and letting you go alone. Nick didn't want distractions and that was fine. But Eddie asked about marriage and kids. He asked you what future you planned to have with me, and you didn't have an answer. You laughed at the idea and that hurt. I couldn't put myself through long distance, waiting for you to come home, when you weren't even sure if I was the one for life. I lied and made all of that shit up so you would want to leave me. And so you could go on the tour without our distance dragging you down. And I think I also did it to protect myself. Because if I waited for you and you came back with a change of heart, I wouldn't ever recover."

"I do want to marry you, I've always wanted that. He wanted a time frame and I panicked. I knew I'd marry you, but I had no idea how soon it would be. I know I waited long and you're completely valid to protect yourself. Putting a date on it scared me and I'm sorry that I didn't handle it well. And for the kids," Y/N felt her body stiffen. She felt like she was holding her breath, terrified of what he'd say. "I'm scared too. I don't know if I have what it takes to be a dad. You are perfect and always perfect at everything. I think I could be a good husband to you, but I don't think I'd keep up to be a good dad like you would be as a mom. I'm scared to fail you." He confessed, his eyes turning red as tears slipped down his cheek. The tip of his nose was red as more tears fell.

"What about now? It's been five years. Was all that time away enough for you to commit to me like that?" She asked

"I thought about you the whole time and once I got my head out of my ass I went straight to you. I haven't seen anyone, family or friends. I got off the plane and headed to you. I've been mad at you but realized that never took away any of my love for you. There was never a girl that could make me forget about you. I want you and I'd marry you right now at the courthouse if you asked me to." And he meant it.

"We both hurt each other, and both said things we didn't mean. We've matured and grown up a little more. I think we can start on a clean slate?" Y/N asked, reaching over to offer her hand

Eddie smiled and shook it, a clean slate.

~~~

A few weeks passed since Eddie and Y/N talked. They agreed to just start as friends, and not jump into anything. Y/N wanted to get back together but she knew it would get complicated once her kids were involved.

She didn't have a plan to introduce them, and that backfired.

Eddie showed up unannounced at the house, he still had his key and he walked right in.

Y/N was giving Beverly a bath, music playing from the small speaker on the counter. Y/N laughed as Beverly blew bubbles around the room. Christopher was in his room, loudly banging trucks together. Everyone was unaware of Eddie walking through the house.

Eddie couldn't help but look at how much their home changed. It was clear children lived here, from the small plates, cups, and toys on the floor. The pictures on the wall caught his attention, his eyes glued to the photographs.

She had a family, she had two small kids. The beauty of all three of them took Eddie's breath away. She had a boy and girl on each side of her, and both kids had dark curly hair. He gulped, the kids looked identical to him.

Eddie heard laughing coming from the bathroom, and he followed the sound. He walked down that hallway a thousand times and never pictured he'd hear a little girl's laugh coming from it. He softly pushed the cracked door open.

His heart warmed at the sight, he knew Y/N would be a good mother but seeing it was something else. The way she smiled so big and the pure joy on her face, it killed Eddie to know how much he missed out.

Eddie coughed to get her attention

"Eddie?" she gasped in shock

"Can we talk?" He asked, his eyes looking to the small girl in the tub

~

"A clean slate and you didn't bother to tell me I had two fucking kids?" Eddie hissed, keeping his voice low as both kids were settled in the bedroom.

"A clean slate for us, my kids have nothing to do with you," Y/N fought back

"Nothing to do with me? I'm their father!"

"No, you're not! You helped me make them, sure. But your name is not on the birth certificate, they don't know you, and they don't have your last name. I'm sorry but there's not a single reason I can't think of for me to let you see them. You may be their father, but I'm their everything" Y/N said, trying to keep her emotions in check.

"That's not fair, I never got a chance," he argued

"You did! Do you think I called you for a whole year just because I was clingy? All you had to do was answer the fucking phone or better yet, showed up when you said you would." She spat, her voice filled with anger as she shoved past him.

He followed her into the bedroom, closing the door.

"You could have left a message!"

He stepped back when she pushed a finger against his chest and went head to head-with him.

"Listen, you don't get to make this my fault. I called, I tried, and I sure as hell did my fucking part" she hissed through her clenched teeth.

Eddie knew he was in the wrong so he backed down, he gently grabbed the finger on his chest and brought it down to her side. He held her hand and spoke softly,

"You're right. You tried and It's all on me that I never picked up. I understand why I don't have a place. But I'm here now, and I want to be here. I want to be a family."

Y/N turned her head away as she blinked away tears, she could feel her walls breaking down. He touched her cheek and turned her head to face him.

"I know you are their everything, but I want to help you. Let me be their dad, please," he begged, he slowly leaned in, "You've always been everything to me, and I want them to be everything to me too. We can be a family, I'm not going anywhere."

She cried as she leaned in as well, "I want to be a family too"

"Can I kiss you?" he whispered

She nodded and leaned in, she moaned as she felt his lips on hers again. His soft touch on her skin and the desperation of his kiss made her stomach flutter.

He pulled away slowly, his eyes locked on hers

"I never thought I could miss someone this much" he whispered before he leaned in again.

@bmunson86 @mxcheese @ladymunson @michaelfuckinglangdon @z0mbie-blah @biittersweet @mirrorsstuff @somethingvicked @micheledawn1975 @ago-godance @magnificantmermaid @tlclick73 @hargrovesswifee @cityofidek @silky-luxe @lokiofasgard616 @loving-and-dreaming @eddiemunsonsbitch69 @thegemaqua @ashlynnkennedy @strangerthingsstories5255 @harringt8ns @pleasinghellfire @whoscamila @stusdollface93 @gretavankleep37 @bellaisswagger @arlxt @ineedmentalhelp123

[macabr3-barbi3]

Pillow Talk- Vox x Reader

(Banner made by my love, @fraugwinska 💛❤️💛)

A Vee Tower maid, you get an eyeful- and more- when stuck hiding in Vox's closet after Alastor comes back to town.

Tags: the Alastor body pillow; Dry Humping? I think that's what it would be; Accidental Voyeurism; Cunnilingus; One-Sided Alastor/Vox; Vaginal Sex; improper use of electricity lol; maid outfit; a tiny bit of hypnosis but not regarding the sex

[this is almost a crack fic honestly I laughed way too much writing it xD this was inspired by a few pieces of art- as soon as I can find the artists I'll link them below!]

So technically, you weren’t supposed to be here. The entire cleaning crew knew that the main apartments of the Vees were off limits unless they specifically asked for them to be serviced- you, specifically, would not be a welcome sight, especially by the CEO.

But when Vox had spotted you outside his office he had barely spared you a enough of a glance to get his hypnotic eye swirling before he had very explicitly stated, “I want every single thing in here put back where it belongs,” and apparently, to your will-bent limbs that meant even the fucking throw pillow on the couch needed to be returned to his home.

The blue striped fabric clutched in your arms, cleaning supplies left in one of the numerous cleaning closets, your feet took you to the elevator, pressing the button for the elevator to take you up to the penthouse. You were sweating a bit in your uniform- despite how little fabric the damn thing had (courtesy of Valentino deciding “if we have to fuckin’ look at them they might as well be hot” when hiring a cleaning crew, apparently) you were still nervous about going against established orders for implied ones. If Vox found out you had been in his section of the penthouse, in his room, Satan only knew what he would do to you.

That shouldn’t have excited you a little as you thought it, but it does- your breath comes a little quicker as you had entered the key code to Vox’s sector of the penthouse floor, thankfully empty as you enter and where you now stand. The television is playing something from the news, Vox sat at his desk with some sharp toothed red deer demon in the frame with him, mouth turned down into a frown and spewing vitriol- you caught some snippets of speech from the low volume, something about him being a fossil, outdated, et cetera. It wasn’t surprising- Vox and all of the Vees were all about innovation, updates, upgrades. If this guy was into older tech it made sense that he would take personal offense to that.

When you try to toss the cushion onto the couch your arm freeze, unwilling to release the fabric- which meant it wasn’t a couch pillow but a bedroom one, and your feet turn to take you in that direction. The door opens without a lock, and the room that greets you is a little neater than you would expect from the CEO of the company, being as prone to outbursts that the staff had to clean up as he was. The bed was made up, and finally your compelled brain allows you to throw the pillow out of your grasp to bounce harmlessly on the bed. Order satisfied, you’re about to turn to leave when the lights snap out with an audible click.

You freeze in the darkness, worried somehow that you’ve been caught, but they flicker on mere moments later. Another tentative step towards the door, and that’s when you hear it- a crackle of electricity from the living room, not unlike an arc flash, one that you’ve heard enough times working in this building to know what it means.

Vox is back.

In hindsight, it was fucking stupid. You probably had better luck explaining yourself, telling him that his command earlier had forced you up here against your better judgment because of course, Vox, sir, you knew that the penthouses were off limits. But your prey brain reverted to instinct, doe ears dropping against your head, and you bolted to the nearest safety- the closet. 

You can hear him coming closer, his voice increasing in volume- “that ancient fucker, thinks he can just come back to my fucking town, in my fucking section like he never- fucking dammit, Bambi, I can’t believe-” He just keeps going and you shuffle further back into the clothing around you, the smell of his soft cologne enveloping you as you descend. You can see light peeking through the slats of the doors, and it vanishes as he quickly approaches. The door flies open and you squeeze your eyes shut, waiting for a sharp clawed hand to land on your arm and haul you out but it never comes.

He grabs something close to you, something soft you had been inadvertently leaning against, and slams the closet door closed again so hard that it swings back open, another crack that light leaks through. Despite your better judgment you lean forward, peek through the slats of the door at what is happening in the room. He throws the item he had grabbed against the bed, and it bounces at an angle so that you can see what it is.

A body pillow- with that guy from the television on it, his red outfit unmistakable even not knowing who he was just from a quick glance. He wears a sly smile on his face, eyes half-lidded over a monocle, a frankly stupid haircut that came to his shoulders with tiny antlers peeking out of it. Vox is still bitching, and this time you catch a name: Alastor. Your boss kicks his shoes off, rips his jacket from his frame, and falls to his knees on the mattress, bringing the pillow close and slotting it between his thighs.

You stop breathing.

He falls forward and braces himself on one hand, the other scrambling at his fly to bring out an impressive erection that you can tell even from this distance must be painful, faintly glowing a bright blue at the tip before fading to the darker shade of his normal skin at the base. He strokes himself once, spreads what looks like a fair amount of precum over his length before he releases his grip and dips his hips into the pillow, now free hand clutching at the fabric between his fingers. 

“Alastor,” he moans, and the low timbre of it shoots straight through your core, thighs clenching together as you stand stockstill in the darkness of the closet. “Oh fuck, Alastor, Al- fuck, fuck,” and his hips are driving into the pillow all the while, the bright tip of his cock occasionally peeking into view from your vantage point. 

You bring a hand up to clamp over your mouth, to try and muffle your breathing as you watch the private act and shift closer to the wider gap in the doors for a better view- slowly, silently. His voice is dark and delicious as he groans into the seemingly empty room, unrestrained in his pleasure. The hand braced on the bed is shredding the sheets, bits of fabric floating up into the air with the force of his claws dragging into them- the one on the pillow is surprisingly gentle, clenched lightly where the hair is on the image of the demon that adorns it.

Your body aches at the apex of your thighs, slick and throbbing just at the sights and sounds before you- if you made it out of this, if Vox didn’t discover and immediately kill you for witnessing this, you were going to have the most phenomenal orgasm of your fucking afterlife the moment you could get yourself alone. You’ve never wanted to be a pillow so badly in all of your existence- Hell, you’ve never wanted to be a pillow period but Vox was making it look downright tantalizing to be shoved between his legs and thrust against. 

He’s still going, his lower body moving rhythmically against the pillow and still muttering under his breath- “Alastor, Alastor, Alastor,” like he’s in a trance, can’t stop himself from saying it. His voice catches in his throat, hips stuttering then stilling while shoved hard against the pillow, collapsing against the mattress with a frustrated groan.

Everything is quiet for a moment, the only sound your muffled breathing against your hand as you peek through the door at the VoxTek CEO. Your spare hand itches for movement at your side, but you refuse- absolutely refuse- to get yourself off in your boss’ closet with him less than five feet away. You fist your fingers in the poofy fabric of the Val-approved maid uniform that the crew was made to wear, and you wait.

When Vox pulls his head up from the mattress, his screen is tinted pink in embarrassment even thinking no one can see him- he looks down at the pillow with such an earnest expression of longing that you feel embarrassed and avert your gaze for a moment, until he scoffs and you look back up to a sight you’re more familiar with. His face is twisted in anger now, and his claws hover menacingly over Alastor’s face before he snarls in disgust- at himself? At the other man?- and clambers off the bed. You watch his body move across the room, lithe muscles flexing as he moves, and only when he exits the room do you heave out the breath you had been holding, taking your hand away from your mouth.

You hear the rushing sound of water that indicates that the shower has been turned on, and you make perhaps the dumbest decision you’ve ever made- you stay in the closet instead of taking these precious few moments of him being out of the room to book it out of the penthouse. You’re not thinking clearly, so preoccupied with the arousal that it wars inside your body with the logical part of your brain saying to get the fuck out. But you’re surrounded by the sweet, heady scent of his cologne, the rough sounds of his groaning still echoing in your ears, and with your eyes slipping closed you slide a hand up under your skirt; you didn’t end up in Hell by sticking to the concept of chastity, after all.

Your free hand fists in the fabric of his shirts that hang next to your face, bringing them closer to breathe in the scent of him. The sounds he made echo in your mind, your fingers brushing lightly against the dampness of your panties, hand dipping inside them to graze your clit-

The closet door flies open, the light falling across your body and illuminating what is clearly a shocking sight to the Overlord if the glitching of his screen is anything to go by- one hand holds the Alastor pillow in a death grip, obviously about to toss it back into the closet after wiping it down with a damp rag (the sink, you realize, not the shower), probably for one of your team members to properly clean later under an oath of secrecy. Your hand is up under your skirt, the other gripping his shirts for dear fucking life, and Satan’s fuck, he was absolutely going to kill you.

You both stand frozen for a moment, still too shocked to move your hands until you see the spark of static cross between his antennae. You let go of his shirts and remove your hand from under your skirt. “Sir,” you start, and your voice cracks on the word. “I’m-” 

“Shut the fuck up,” he snaps, and even without the swirl of his hypnotic eye your jaw clamps closed. He lets the Alastor pillow fall to the ground, both hands free now to open both closet doors, and you close your eyes- this was it, goodbye Hell, nice knowing you. At least you were going out with a hot image burned behind your eyelids of the guy that was going to murder you.

Instead you feel the sensation of your floppy ear being rubbed between two fingers, gentle and inquisitive. When an eye peeks open again, Vox is staring at them, his gaze flicking between your ears to the tiny white spots that line the edges of your face that he can now see with the increased light. “You a deer?” He asks, his tone dark, and you heave a shaky breath.

“Yes, sir.”

He hums, a quiet noise as his other hand comes up to rest softly on your waist. “Didn’t notice earlier. Thought I told the head cleaning bitch I didn’t want any fucking deer in my tower.”

You force yourself to breathe slowly. “I had great recommendations and she said she would just keep me out of your way.”

“Great recommendations, huh? Any of your previous employers know you fucking touch yourself watching people get off in what they assume is the privacy of their own homes?”

Instinct- you try to run rather than face his questions, only getting as far as an abortive jerk forward before both  of his hands are on your hips, pushing you further against the back closet wall. His scent is fucking everywhere, a faint heat coming off his screen with how close it is to your face, and you feel the threat of claws where he grips you. “Please, I’m sorry-”

“This for me?” Vox takes one hand off your waist to grab your hand- the one that had been under your skirt- and moves it back to its prior position, just pressing against the front of your damp panties. “Or was it the fact that you were being a little pervert and I was none the wiser? Tell the truth now, dear,” he says, his eye going black rimmed and swirling, and you’re helpless to answer.

“A bit of both, sir,” you breathe, and he looks pleased at your answer, pressing your fingers harder against the heated skin under your joined hands. The words don’t stop- “I didn’t mean to come here, sir, there was a pillow in your office- and you said everything had to go back where it belonged, so-”

“Gotcha, gotcha,” he nods. “The downsides of hypnotism, huh? But it’s gotten us into an interesting situation- how much of that did you see?” He tilts his head towards the pillow.

Deep breath. “All of it, sir.”

“You must think I’m pretty pathetic now, huh?” 

His eyes still spins lazily at you. “Not at all,” you say, and the pixels of his eyebrows twitch upwards. “I thought it was… alluring. Sexy, to watch you let yourself go like that.” You glance down at the pillow, a grimace taking over your mouth. “Admittedly a little gross that you aren’t like. Properly cleaning that. Were you just going to throw it back into the closet?”

His screen tints and he lets go of you, taking a step back to kick the pillow out of your line of sight. “I have a dry cleaning lady that comes on Saturdays,” he says defensively, “it would have only been in there like two days max.”

“Sir, that’s still kinda-”

He tugs you out of the closet by the wrist and pulls you over to the bed, sitting on the edge and pulling so that you straddle his lap. “You wanna keep calling me gross or do you wanna fuck me?” He grinds your hips down onto his and you feel the hard length of his arousal against you despite it being not more than a few minutes since he had finished with the pillow. 

“Can’t I do both?”

“Cause let me tell you,” he adds, talking over you, not picking up the barb, “the sooner I can get that fucker out of my head, the happier I’ll be as your boss. And a happy boss might not decide to kill or fire you for being a- what’s the lady equivalent of a Peeping Tom? Just a slut?”

“I’m not sure there is one, sir,” you say breathlessly, and his tongue snaking out of his mouth to trail along the length of your neck distracts you from his fingers reaching up under your skirt to slide your panties to the side, thumbing your clit with soft pressure.

“S’nice that you’re a deer,” he murmurs, the tingly sensation of his lips tracing a path down your collar, letting his tongue slip between the swell of your tits, pushed on display in this fucking uniform. “Just like- shit, do you have…?” His other hand comes under your skirt as well, reaches around the back to cup your ass, and at the base of your spine-

“Oh, fuck,” he whispers when he gets a grip on your tail, fingers tightening around it in a way that makes you cry out, high and trembling. “Fuck, I gotta-” He shifts the both of you, a quick motion that ends with you bent over the edge of the mattress while Vox flips your skirt up, exposes the cute fawn spots that covered your ass and thighs, the fluffy nub of your tail above the red lace of your panties.

“Fuckin’ red,” he mutters, mostly to himself, “just like him- what is it with fuckin’ deer and red? Do you all use the same style guide or something?” When you look back, there’s a note that appears on his screen- “ask Vel about deer style magazine?”- before he sees you watching and grins. “Might wanna hold onto something, doll,” he advises, and before you can ask him why his face is pressed against your rear, tongue slipping between the slick folds of your cunt and diving in.

The shock of it makes you yelp, immediately devolving into a moan that’s lost in the sheets when you bury your face into them. The slick muscle is long and strong, reaching deep and flicking against your inner walls with a fervor you’ve never had from a partner before. You try to grind your hips against the bed, the motion aborted when Vox’s large hands come up to your waist and hold you in place so he can lick into your pussy more efficiently, keeping you firmly against his screen. He moans at the taste of you and keeps you still with one hand, the other coming down to rub forcefully at your clit. You groan into the sheets, fingers fisting in the fabric and fuck, fucking finally,  pressure and friction where you wanted it. “Vox, sir, please,” you whine into the mattress, and he moans against you, the vibration of it from his screen adding a nice edge to the pleasure. “Please, please, please-”

Tongue still inside of you, you can hear his voice, broadcast from the speakers on his head- “I’m not sure you get to beg for anything, baby,” he says, and his tone drips sarcasm and amusement. “I could leave you high and dry and I would be well within my fucking rights- maybe I decide that perverts don’t get to cum.” His tongue starts to draw back, and when your walls clench down on him in protest he fucking laughs. “I guess fucking any deer will do, though- helps that you’re fucking cute, even if you don’t really look like-”

Like him. Like Alastor. It should have been insulting, and maybe a little terrifying that possibly the only thing keeping you from having been murdered on the spot when he opened that closet was that you were a fucking deer.

Logic had no place in your body right now, though; you’d been aroused for the better part of Satan only knew how long, and you would take what you could get. Maybe if you were lucky he would just fire you after he fucked you stupid. “Please,” you ask him again, not caring if you sound pathetic about it, and he does pull off your pussy now, leaves your soaked entrance clenching down on nothing. “Fuck, sir, please-” 

He chuckles and you hear the clinking of his belt behind you, loud in the quiet of his room that’s interrupted only by your soft moans into the mattress. “Don’t worry, Bambi,” he said, using the nickname for Alastor that he had spit in anger when he first came into the room. “I’ll give it to you- give it to you real fucking good.” His hand reaches above your head and grabs the pillow that had led you in here like a lamb to the slaughter, shifts your hips up enough to shove it under them while pressing against your back. You feel the hard line of his cock against your ass and resist the urge to grind back onto it, staying put until he decides to move.

“Ohh, look at that! That’s fucking cute,” he says, and there’s a hard grip on your tail, making you aware of the faint shakiness to the appendage in his grasp. “All twitchy and needy- you always get like this when you want a cock in you?”

Your response is a drawn out whine when he finally pushes in, and fuck- seeing it glow faintly against the pillow while he rutted to completion couldn’t have prepared you for having his cock inside of you, filling your cunt perfectly and still fucking going. Vox presses in slowly, methodically, until he’s buried balls deep and breathing heavily against your back. “Fuuuccckkk,” he groans, and the rumble of it through his chest makes your inner walls spasm around the hard length of him. “Oh fuck, baby, do that again,” he encourages, a hand squeezing at your tail, and what are you supposed to do? Not listen to him? You clench down and he chuckles, low and dangerous, and there are lips nipping at your skin where the shirt of your uniform leaves you exposed. “God fucking damn, Bambi, you’re just-” He pulls back, the drag of his dick inside of you leaving sparks of pleasure that burn behind your eyelids, and shoves back in, the tip of him bumping something soft and sweet inside you that makes the evidence of your arousal drip from where you’re connected. He sets a steady pace, and you wish you could fucking see him- watch him use your body for his pleasure like he had used the pillow, mindless with it, bucking his hips with reckless abandon.

A hand wraps around your throat, gently at first before the feeling of it makes you moan and he tightens his grip, thumb coming up to brush against your lips and smearing the drool that he finds there, having fallen unbidden from your mouth as you panted with your mouth open while he fucked you. “Making a mess of my sheets, huh? I like the sound of that- fucking the drool out of you while I fuck my cum into you-”

The keening cry you try to let out at that is garbled and broken with his hand squeezing your throat, the other still having a grand old time pulling on your tail, and fuck, you think you could cum just like this. “V-Vox, sir,” you manage to get out with the pressure on the sides of your neck, “please, gonna-”

“Gonna cum, baby?” He lets go of your throat and you fall forward onto the mattress, face burying in the sheets again and muffling your sounds- he brings his fingers to your clit to circle it while he fucks you, still pulling your tail, and everything inside of you feels like its tensing and electrified around your cunt where you’re stuffed full of him. “Come on, show me how- how fucking sorry  you are for getting caught with your hand down your panties.” He brings his face down next to yours, teeth snapping in your ear and licking up the side of your face at the tears that have leaked out. “Wanna fucking call me gross now, Bambi? When you’re about to cum on my cock like a goddamn slut- fuck, so close, it’s almost fucking perfect-”

Static sparks off his antennae, and you can almost feel the thrum of electricity though his body before it ends at his finger tips, shocking both your clit and the sensitive skin of your tail where he still holds it in a death grip- that’s all it takes for you to almost scream with your orgasm and drag him over the edge with you, a soft grunt of “Alastor, fuck, Al-” as he spends himself in long, hot pulses inside of you. Static still tingles lightly at his fingertips, causing tiny jolts of pleasure that make your muscles twitch and your walls flutter around Vox’s cock, drawing your release out until you’re almost overstimulated, trying to shift your hips out from under his body.

The hand on your tail tightens in warning. “Stay the fuck still for a sec,” he mumbles, and he presses his face against your back- you can feel the heat of it through your shirt. “Just fucking- came twice in the span of thirty minutes, let me catch my goddamn breath before you try to go again.”

“That’s not-” He presses hard against your clit and your body jerks in his hold. “Not helping,” you finish feebly, and he laughs against your flank before he lets go of your body and pushes back, pulling out with a loud, wet noise that brings a flaming blush to your face. “And not what I was trying to do.”

There’s a shuffle of movement and then the bed dips in front of you- you raise your head up from the mattress to see Vox eagle-spread across the sheets, his chest heaving. “No, you were just trying to get off in my closet after watching me fuck a pillow like a fucking loser. Not sure if that reflects worse on you or me.”

You flush, and prop yourself up on your elbows to watch him- he didn’t seem like he was as angry now, less likely to murder you probably. “It’s not great for either of us, but probably a little worse for me.” You take a deep breath, tense despite the orgasm that made your bones feel like goo. “I… I don’t think you’re going to kill me now? But I do understand if you would still like to fire me, sir- this was… lovely, but I was still unprofessional, and-”

“God, just- shut up, damn, is that also a deer thing? Never being able to stop talking? I’m not gonna fucking fire you.” He throws an arm over his screen, his internal fans whirring and blowing hot air across your face. “Are you any good at your job or do you hide in closets on a regular basis?”

“First time transgression, sir.” He chuckles, and you shift a little bit higher up. “Besides- you know, this, I do a good job.”

He hums, turning on his side to look at you- or more specifically, to look at the valley between your breasts where they’re pushed up from your position on your elbows. “Fuck,” he mutters, then actually meets your eye. “Can you get a cum stain out of a pillow?”

You resist the urge to laugh. “I can do more than just wipe it down with a damp cloth and throw it in the closet to sit for two days.”

“Oh, fuck you,” he says, his screen tinting pink, but he doesn’t actually seem upset about it. “It would have gotten cleaned eventually. The point is- you’ve already seen it, I don’t think there’s any reason why anyone else needs to.”

“Your dry cleaning woman hasn’t seen it before?”

“What, you think I make a fucking habit of this?” He sits up, crossing his legs on the bed to turn and look down at you. “First time transgression, doll. Fuckin’ Val bought me that thing as a joke a few years ago, I forgot about it entirely until he came back, and all this fucking tension came along with it that I obviously couldn’t do anything about with him. No one else has seen it, no one else- no one else knows.”

“I can keep a secret,” you find yourself saying. “And yes, I can get a stain out of a pillow like that.”

His eyebrow quirks up. “I’ll take your word,” Vox says. “Tell you what- you work your magic on that fucking thing, we toss it back into the closet- properly cleaned this time- and we can discuss some kind of arrangement between the two of us. A personal contract with me, instead of the collective like everybody else. You won’t have to wear that uniform anymore,” he adds, “but I can’t say one that I come up with would be any better. I’d keep that cute tail on display though.”

“Sounds like a plan.” You stand from the bed and enjoy the way that his eyes trail down your body, even if they do hover a little longer on your ears. “Do you keep any hydrogen peroxide in the apartment?” He blinks at you. “Bleach? Rubbing alcohol? Fuck, baking soda and vinegar?”

“I’m the CEO, what the fuck do I need any of those things for? Everything I need other people will do for me.”

“God damn it- okay then, you wait here and try to keep your hands off the pillow- I’ll be back.” With a grin rivaling the one on the soiled cushion's image you turn your back to the still grumbling demon. You couldn’t believe your luck - not only had Vox not killed you but you got a good fuck and the promise of some sort of a promotion out of the situation as well. With newfound confidence, you flipped your skirt up and wagged your tail at him before you disappeared through the door to look for the necessary supplies, chuckling to yourself as you heard the grumbling turn into a needy groan.

[satans-helper]

In Your Fantasy

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x (F) Reader

Word Count: ~5300

Warnings: semi-public sex (like...very low-key), oral sex (F receiving), unprotected PIV sex. 18+ only ~

This took me forever to finish because I started it before my stupid tonsillectomy and I was totally useless throughout most of the recovery. Also, it's been absolutely ages since I wrote a Jake x Reader fic so I'm not sure how I feel about it...I really enjoyed writing this regardless of my trepidation though. I loved the idea of falling in love with him at work and him being so cheeky...hope you enjoy it too <3

P.S. also ages ago, I wrote a Josh x Reader fic that also took place in a library which you can read here. Links on my desktop masterlist aren't active for some reason...but I found it using a certain tag lmao. If you know, you know.

---

You were finishing up fixing the order of some art books in the back of the library when you felt Jake come up behind you. “Wanna hear something kind of crazy?” he whispered in your ear, his chin nearly on your shoulder, his hair brushing against yours. Without even seeing him, the closeness and warmth of his body and the low, husky whisper sent a tingle up your spine–he certainly added a level of intrigue to working in a library. 

“Always,” you said, slipping the last book into the correct spot. It was a quiet Thursday afternoon–you’d thought it’d actually be busier given the rain that kept bucketing down outside, creating an even cozier atmosphere, but maybe people just wanted to stay home with their books instead. That was fine by you. You liked it when it was nearly dead silent throughout the building and Jake was there to occasionally break through, his voice a river through your thoughts and his subtle touches all shockwaves to your heart. 

When you turned around to face him, Jake looked like he was holding back a hilarious joke or something, eyes all eager and a grin tight on his lips like he was bursting at the seams. “So I just went to the bathroom and guess what I heard?” he went on, raising his eyebrows. 

You scrunched up your nose, already worried. This wasn’t what you were expecting when he’d said ‘something crazy.’ What sort of craziness happened in libraries anyway? “There are a lot of things I can think of. Is this a gross story?”

Jake chuckled. “It depends on your definition of ‘gross.’ Okay,” he said, looking around to make sure you two were still alone in the section. Then he looked into your eyes again and lowered his voice even more to tell you, “There were people fucking in there.” 

You scoffed, offended on behalf of the library–the sacred, beautiful space where people went to relax and read, not deal with lewd conduct. That wasn’t crazy, that was just offensive! “What, like two guys?” you questioned, tilting your head, a little irked at Jake finding this all so funny. 

“No, a guy and a girl.”

“Ugh. That’s even worse. Women shouldn’t have to deal with getting laid in a men’s bathroom,” you said, then were momentarily distracting yourself with yet another out of place book on the shelf.  “I’d never do that. I can’t believe someone else is. I mean, kids go here.”

“Yeah, that’s true,” Jake said slowly. He leaned against the bookshelf and looked at you pointedly, his dark eyes even darker in the dim light. “Then again–”

Before he could finish, you had another thought. “Wait, Jake–did you say anything to them?”

“No. What could I say? I just high-tailed it out of there as soon as I heard.”

You sighed. The whole thing would be far more redeemable if your boyfriend had at least tried to throw out some warning words to the perpetrators. “You should have told them to stop. I would have.”

“I’m sure they finished soon after I left.” He smirked. “It sounded like they were pretty close.”

You groaned quietly and turned away, preferring to find another thing to busy yourself with now. “Gross. They should be banned.”

Jake followed along right at your side as you whisked through the rest of the art section and back to the cart you needed to empty. “I didn’t see who they were, so no chance of that.” At the cart, he put his hands on it, keeping it in place. “I actually thought you’d find it sort of amusing, Y/N.”

You leaned over, almost close enough to touch your noses together. “You’re such a guy. Only a guy would think it’s amusing and not disgusting.” 

“I don’t know about that. Maybe you’re just a little stuffy,” Jake replied, tilting his head up as if he were challenging you. “Although maybe I shouldn’t be surprised, considering we’ve never done anything like that.”

You scoffed again and leaned back, surprised and still a little irritated, but also genuinely curious. “Oh, so you want to fuck around in a public place? That’s something I didn’t know about you.”

Jake’s challenging stance turned crestfallen, and he lifted one of your hands to press a kiss to. “Forget I said anything about it. I mean, I suppose you’re right–it is kind of gross.” He kept your hand clasped in his for a few seconds as he said, “But I’d never make love to you in a public bathroom. I’d hope you know me better than that.”

You looked over your shoulder at the sound of a man clearing his throat, settling down into a chair with a newspaper. He wasn’t paying any attention to you or Jake, but you gave the cart a push anyway, cajoling Jake off it so you could navigate to where you needed to go next. 

“It’s really the fact that it’s the bathroom that makes it so gross,” you whispered as Jake kept following you. You couldn’t deny you’d had some secret fantasies about getting it on in the library–after all, it was where you and Jake had met and where you continued to spend the most time together. But none of your fantasies included the restrooms in the hall, or the utility closet or that little corridor tucked away across from the restrooms where the vending machines were. Too grody, too cramped, too obvious.

“At least our bathrooms are clean.” Jake parked himself right next to you once you were in the biography section, and when you stepped away from the cart, he wrapped his arms around your waist and held you in place. “But if I’m being really honest, I have thought about us, well, fooling around here. I think it’s quite surprising we never have.”

“Jake,” you said in an attempt to protest, but his sweet, pretty face and ticklish touch on your waist made you giggle, and his confession that echoed your own secret thoughts lit a little spark. “We work here!” 

“So? All the more reason. It’s always been our special place.” Jake smiled as he got even closer to kiss you; you kissed him back, looping your arms over his shoulders. He was smiling even bigger when you both broke away and he said, “You know, it’s just me closing tonight. You should stay after with me.”

“God, and do what?” you replied, but, despite yourself, you were growing more intrigued. 

“Well, don’t you think the study rooms here are nice and cozy?” Jake questioned, still latching himself to your side as you started to put more books away. “There aren’t any cameras in any of them either. No one would know.”

You looked up at him from your crouched position, sliding a book into place. “Someone would know. Someone would find out somehow.” You were quickly finding even more perfectly good reasons in your mind not to do this, to not even really toy with the idea, but the more you thought about it, the more you thought, why not? Could the risk make it more fun? Even just the new, ill-fitting, sort of scandalous environment? 

Besides, Jake really did look hot today. He looked hot every day, but the second you’d seen him after he’d come into work earlier, he’d lit a fire in your belly that was more intense than usual. His hair had the perfect level of slight messiness and the relaxed black button-down shirt was perhaps one or two buttons shy of being overtly inappropriate for work; the smooth tan skin of his chest exposed and acting as a lovely backdrop to the long silver chain dangling, the pendant hitting his sternum. You could imagine tugging on that chain, grasping the pendant in your palm, to pull him closer while he pressed you against one of those thick wooden tables. You’d run your fingers through his hair and kiss him in the frozen silence, and maybe no one would ever know after all.

“I can practically hear the wheels turning,” Jake remarked, tapping your forehead once you were standing again. “You know you want to.” 

You let out an inadvertent nervous giggle and rolled your eyes. “Yes, I’m thinking about it.”

Jake stepped closer, pressing you back against the cart of books. “I’d love to hear some of those thoughts,” he said, putting his hands on your waist.

“You’re lucky it’s dead here today,” you said, keeping your voice a whisper despite the, indeed, dead library around you. You rested your arms over his shoulders, twisting a strand of his hair between your fingers; Jake just kept looking at you with that sweet, silently begging gaze until you giggled, relenting. “Okay. I was, um…thinking about you pushing me down on one of those big tables.”

Jake’s eyebrows rose. “What else?”

“Well…” you began, looking down at his dark jeans rubbing against your skirt. “You’re giving me some more ideas now.” You lifted one foot off the floor to rub your calf over his, the delicate material of your tights creating subtle but scintillating friction against his denim. 

Jake ran the tip of his nose up your cheek and whispered in your ear, “Same here.” 

Just as you were closing your eyes and allowing yourself to let your environment fall away around you, to forget about all the risk of being caught right there, and just as Jake’s hand was sliding down between your legs, a person’s incredibly soft–thanks to the clever carpeting job–footsteps headed your way yanked you right out of the moment.

Jake, too. He shot back and cleared his throat, ran a hand through his hair and looked in the direction of the footsteps; you did too, and soon enough an older woman with her nose already in an open book trotted past the shelves. 

“See?” you whispered, gesturing at the passer-by who was already out of view. “It’s so easy to get caught.”

“Please, that lady didn’t notice a thing. Alright,” Jake said before he stole one last hurried kiss. “I should let you keep doing your job and I should carry on with mine. But will you stay after with me tonight?”

You pursed your lips as you looked at him, considering, but it wasn’t long before you said, “Alright, Jake. I’ll stay after and we can play out your little fantasy.”

“It’s your fantasy too, baby doll,” Jake said with a wink before he half-turned, beginning to step away. “I think we’ve established that.”

-

There wasn’t a whole lot to keep your mind occupied as the afternoon carried on. The rain kept coming down, hammering hard against the roof and windows, and the sky outside was pure gray, all flat and blank. It reminded you of your first day working here, as a matter of fact–that morning in the previous late October, when autumn’s chill was officially in the air. A fine layer of frost had even been on the ground that morning; your shoes had crunched over it on the short walk to your car and you’d had to use your defroster once you turned the key, your anxiety peaking as you had to wait even longer to start the new job. 

How could such a quiet, peaceful place encite so much anxiety anyway? You remembered wondering that very question as you walked over the sidewalk to the library entrance for the first time since being hired, the concrete slick with that morning frost and the beginnings of a gentle rainfall. And just when you’d been settling in and getting comfortable, Jake had showed up and introduced himself, all casual and easy like he didn’t know he was the most beautiful man you’d ever seen.

Thankfully, Jake was also the sweetest man you’d ever met. It didn’t take long before his beauty and charm stopped intimidating you and instead just made you feel all light and full of joy–you were simply happy to chat with him whenever you both could spare a few minutes. Those few minutes steadily turned into shared breaks; then, shared lunches where you’d sit out back on the one picnic table when the weather permitted. Then he started bringing you special treats sometimes, things he knew you liked because he actually listened about what you liked, and then after that he started bringing you whole lunches packed with love and care that you’d never experienced before. 

So, after all that, was it really such a big deal to make love inside the place in which you fell in love?

None of your other coworkers even seemed to notice that you were staying later than planned this evening. But, just to be safe, you also made a point to hide out in the kid’s section when closing time crept up, busying yourself with cleaning up stray crayons and markers and then browsing through some of the newer picture book additions when you were done with that. 

When you were sliding one picture book back onto the shelf and reaching for another, you noticed the part of the library beyond the kid’s section dim; you stood up and walked out into the main area, and there Jake was behind the checkout counters flipping switches.

“Despite almost always being the one to close,” he said, flipping another switch. “I still sometimes forget which lights actually get turned off and which ones stay on.”

A path of yellow light led the way past the checkout and reception, past the few rows of public use desktop computers. Jake held your hand as you both stepped through the library, your heartbeat speeding up a bit with nervous yet delightful anticipation; a few more steps and you were further into the very back of the library, just about there. Four study rooms were staggered just beyond the teen reading section, two on the left and two on the right with a wall of windows in between. 

Jake opened the door to the last study room on the right. A large window was in there too, soaking in the deep sunset that was resting beyond the grass outside and the trees, and the mostly-bare branches of all the trees were throwing shadows across the library grounds. Then Jake flipped the light on, making it all disappear.

“Oh no,” you said, reaching behind him to flip it off again. “It’s sort of magical with the light off. Look at that sunset.”

Jake followed your gaze out the window to the wash of deep blue painted across the sky, nighttime so early in autumn that only a slight sliver of golden-orange remained just on the horizon. The rain had stopped a few minutes ago and had left a lingering mist on the ground, its faint haze trailing along just outside the windows–the whole scene was so much more peaceful than what was going on inside your head. You couldn’t shake the possibility of getting caught even though Jake was right about there being no cameras back here, and there was no one else around, not even any of the custodial staff, and not a soul out there in the fog. Just you and Jake in the little dark study room, his hand still warm around your own.

Your thoughts started to drift away, making space for your mind to comprehend the shadowed image of Jake before you as he gently turned you to face him. He smiled with the slightest bit of white teeth gleaming between his full lips, and you instinctively smiled back, pulled under his charm again. So, now effortlessly charmed and put at ease, you wrapped him in your arms and pulled him close, caressing his shoulder blade with one hand and the slight curve of his waist with the other as both of your smiles disappeared into a kiss. 

“You were making me crazy all day,” he remarked between the kisses that accelerated with both of your lips parted and the wet meeting of tongues. 

“Really? You kept it well-hidden.” Of course Jake did–you never doubted his affection and passion for you, but he kept everything so private. It was one of the many things you liked about him. You cupped the back of his head, sinking your fingers into his hair, scratching his scalp with your nails just the way he liked it, and kissed him again.

“God, your ass in this skirt,” Jake said, voice a little rough, and he reached down to grab you there. “The way your hips move.” He licked his bottom lip as he took a moment to just look at you, his eyes scanning your face. “So unbelievably pretty.”

You held the side of his face. “You are too, Jakey.” He really was, and even in the dark–perhaps especially in the dark, actually. The shadows enveloped him in even more mystery than normal, but you could still so plainly see the angles of his face and the smoothness of his skin in the faint, distant glow of the lingering sunset. Jake smiled at the sound of that little nickname coming from you, then disappeared as he pressed his lips to yours again and pushed you back against the table just like in your little fantasy. 

You felt the warmth of his hand travel around your hip then slide down over your skirt; you kissed him harder and spread your legs a little wider when his fingers skated effortlessly up your thigh over your tights. Jake purred against your mouth as he traced the seam of those tights, and subsequently the crotch of your panties beneath, with one fingertip, and your own hands hurried down his body with much less grace to squeeze his ass and feel the hardness between his legs as reciprocity. 

Before you could do much more than that, he was pushing your skirt up all the way with one hand and continuing to use the other to tease you. Your breath caught in your throat as you were finding yourself trying to stay silent despite the library being completely empty; Jake carried on with longer, deeper touches over the crotch of your panties and tights. The steady back and forth of his fingers over the two thin layers of fabric sent a delightful tingle of pleasure up your spine but you couldn’t forget his either–you kept that one hand of your own on his crotch too, gently squeezing his erection through his pants.

Jake huffed softly and kissed you again; you clutched his arm with your other hand, squeezing his bicep. Maybe other people didn’t mind getting caught–maybe there really was some sort of thrill to it. Maybe other people actually sometimes wanted others to witness their most intimate moments but you didn’t. You couldn’t imagine doing this with the lights on in the middle of the day, with the soft noises of people beyond the walls and the risk of someone catching a glimpse from opening the door or from outside the windows. You were perfectly happy with having Jake all to yourself in the shadowed little square study room, his skin so perfectly warm, his kiss so perfectly molded to yours.

“Was this part of your fantasy?” Jake questioned as he slowly sank to his knees, keeping your skirt bunched up over your hips with both hands now. But it was obvious what he was doing, so you took their place to keep it out of the way while his hands squeezed your thighs as he pressed his face between your legs.

The scant sharpness of his teeth over your crotch made you gasp. “Maybe,” you answered, thighs quivering against the table behind you.

“Oh, come on,” Jake beckoned, looking up at you with a sweet but slightly mischievous gaze, his eyebrows raised just enough to display teasing curiosity. 

“Seems like you already know,” you replied, stifling a giggle at him struggling to get your tights down from beneath your skirt. 

“I don’t know how you wear these things,” he remarked, which made you actually let out a laugh.

“Just rip them for fuck’s sake,” you instructed, eager now, already wet for him. “They’re not expensive.”

Jake didn’t hesitate. “If you insist,” he said as he grabbed a fistful of black nylon in each hand and ripped the tights right open, then quickly pulled your panties to the side next, giving you no time to think at all anymore. Whatever words your mind may have found merely turned to shaky breaths as you watched Jake’s face disappear between your legs again.

He gave a little hum just as he went straight in, the bridge of his nose rubbing up against your clit while he dove his tongue into your center like he really did want to eat up all the arousal that had been conjured up just for him. Your fingers found his hair again, knuckles curling to tug the long strands while your nails scratched his scalp again and he let out a little pleased sound, almost like a gratified laugh, and dug his own blunt nails into your inner thigh as he kept you spread open. 

One word finally emerged from your lips–Jake’s name, simply spoken in a soft tone as the ministration of his tongue and lips had you squirming and quivering even harder, your heels digging into the carpet below as you slightly struggled to stay upright. The repeated flicks of tongue over your clit disappeared for a brief moment, then slowed to one long drag of his tongue over your center just to start that quick pace again. Sighs and whimpers were dragged out of you with each lick; when Jake slipped two fingers in, the slow but easy stretch made you tremble and clench your fingers into his hair even harder.

“You’re so tight,” he commented when he pulled back just enough for you to look down again and see your own wetness glistening on his lips and chin. You could feel it too, how much tighter you were clenching around his fingers as he gently thrust them and teased, curling them and now rubbing your clit with his thumb.

“You’re so good,” you told him breathlessly, closing your eyes again when the sensations had you arching your back. You hissed and bit your lip when Jake’s mouth found you again, his tongue teasing your clit more while he slid his fingers in deeper.

You had thought it would take more of a conscious effort to relax in this space and just let go, but it was easy, so easy–you just let your body respond to Jake with each tremble and moan and gasp and tug at his hair until your legs were outright shaking. Panting, the peak rising deep inside, you pulled him closer and he obliged, sucking on your clit as his fingers curled and gently tugged deep inside you too as if he was literally trying to pull you right to the edge you were already rapidly careening to.

His name from your lips once more wasn’t a soft little sigh; it was a sharp, long whine that seemed to boom in the little study room. Your ferocity surprised you even more when the overstimulation came on so soon and you yanked his head back with one hand and shoved him away with the other, your hand gripping his shoulder. Panting, eyes still shut, you could feel how much wetter you were with his saliva and the rush of your orgasm, the fluid soaking your panties that were pulled to the side and even the very inside of your thighs. 

Jake pressing a kiss to your thigh made you look down but he was getting up on his feet now; your gaze followed the steady movement of his rise and then you were whisked away into blissful darkness again when he closed in and kissed you–close-lipped because he was so polite. But you parted yours and slid your tongue over his and gripped his waist tight for a moment before hastily getting those buttons on his shirt undone, fingers trailing all the way down to get his pants undone next. 

He tentatively pushed you back onto the table a bit more so your feet were off the floor, legs still spread wide around him and dangling when he pulled his pants and underwear down just enough to reveal that heated hardness. His cock leaked just a bit as he stroked it once, looking at you, and a blip of that old insecurity born from adoration and fascination stroked your brain, because Jake was just so beautiful and his beauty was so much more stark in contrast to the plain white walls behind him. 

“That was intense,” Jake said with a chuckle, leaning in to kiss you. You sighed against his lips as he slid the head of his cock all through your wet center, making a point to rub longer and harder over your clit. As he slid in, taking your breath away entirely, he sighed too and you watched his shoulders drop and his chest flush and he asked, so casually, “Is your fantasy being fulfilled?”

Even with the impact of Jake’s cock filling you so perfectly, you had to laugh. “You're a fantasy, Jake,” you told him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders to bring him closer, to make the head of his cock hit so deep inside you that you gasped again as if you weren’t expecting the feeling. “What about–” You had to pause when Jake gave his first thrust. “What about your fantasy? This was all your idea.”

“It was a shared idea,” he reminded you with the cutest little smile. How could anyone be so sexy and adorable at the same time, especially during the actual act of sex, especially when that sex was taking place inside a public library? But he was, and you kept your eyes on him as he steadily sped up with his hips and his hands explored your body over your clothes, one squeezing your breast through your shirt and the other smoothing down your waist, your hip, traveling around your thigh.

“Oh god,” you chirped when Jake’s fingers made contact with your still-sensitive clit; but he was gentle, clearly deliberately being slow with the little circles he was making. With your arms still a loop around his shoulders, you sank your fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck and held him there for a minute before the soft pink of his chest became too tempting not to touch.

“Fuck yeah, that feels amazing,” Jake said in that deliciously hazy, husky voice after you slipped your hands past his open shirt to toy with his nipples. Bringing more attention to him put your lingering overstimulation in the background–you continued to tease with one hand while the other skated over the other side of his chest, feeling his warm, soft skin, up to his neck. You caressed him there, your fingers lightly touching the tender skin along his throat and then up to his ear, and Jake moaned softly and tilted his head to try and get more contact.

That was fine by you. You lightly scratched behind his ear like he was a cat and he sort of purred like one anyway, making you giggle; Jake giggled too and surged forward, picking up his pace as he whisked you away with another series of kisses that were deep but just sloppy enough for your mutual moans to be voiced. 

But, also to your surprise, Jake began to voice more thoughts between increasingly ragged breaths: “Remember when we first met?” he asked, his fingers over your clit sliding down to get slick again from your own arousal. “That was–fuck, that was such a good day.”

“It was,” you agreed, playing with one of his earrings as your other hand squeezed his pec. “I’m lucky I even got the job here. For a lot of reasons.” You stole another lingering kiss before adding, “You’re the biggest reason.”

Jake smiled. The sunset that had been just barely clinging to life when you’d both began was gone now–the only illumination was coming from a parking lot light that was too far away from the windows to see, but the pale yellow glow was scant enough to see that alluring, mystical beauty that your boyfriend possessed. Just looking at his face was enough to make you come again.

But Jake’s skilled fingers and the heat, weight and stretch of his cock still thrusting into you certainly helped. You buried your face against his neck now that you had access to all of him; a thick sob was muffled as you tightened and spasmed around him, and you heard him let out a quiet “wow” as the second orgasm rolled through you. 

His fingers on your clit, thankfully, moved away. He gripped your thigh again instead; his pace was now messy and fierce, and you had to fight to stay in place not only from the harsh movements and how the table you were sitting on was skidding a bit across the floor, but also from that second round of intense bodily excitement. 

“God,” you huffed, stifling another laugh. Apparently it didn't matter where you were–if you were with Jake, he just gave you the giggles. “You’re really going for it.”

Jake cradled the back of your head, messing with your hair a bit. “And I’m–hmm–almost there.”

You kissed him softly and sweetly, from his collarbone and up his neck to his ear. “Good boy,” you whispered there, giving his ear a nibble. Jake moaned wordlessly in response and gave one last deep, solid thrust that jostled you backwards and made the table creak, then he went slack over you, his whole upper body all loose and so hot that warmth was radiating through his shirt.

When Jake lifted his head, you leaned back and waved the back of your hand over your forehead with a silly “whew” motion; Jake laughed and nodded, then slowly pulled out. He collapsed forward again, resting his head on your chest, and you wrapped your arms around him once more. 

“Well, we’ve done it once. Do we ever need to do it again?” you asked, petting his back.

“Like, um, sex?” Jake asked, mumbling against your chest. “Or sex in the library?”

“In the library, duh,” you said with a chuckle, and kissed him when he lifted himself up and looked at you. 

“Where else should we do it?” Jake replied, his tone and little smile making it obvious he was kidding–finally. You were glad to have played out this little fantasy and do something new and a little risky, but you’d be even more glad to just go back to the way things were. Nothing wrong with a classic. 

“Our bed, definitely,” you said, and Jake smiled and nodded again; you began working on buttoning up his shirt. “Our couch. The floor. Maybe the shower.” 

“Maybe?”

“Last time we tried the shower, you nearly cracked your head open,” you reminded him, lifting a hand to cup his jaw. “And nearly broke your perfect teeth.”

Jake’s smile grew wider. “That would be terrible, wouldn’t it?”

“I’d never forgive that stupid shower.”

Jake patted his hands from your shoulders down the length of your body, stopping at your ankles. “Well, babe, we’re both in one piece now, aren’t we? Time to close up?”

“Definitely. The custodians are probably going to be here any minute.”

“Oh my.” Jake held your hand to bring you off the table. “That would have been quite the show for them.” 

“No more shows,” you said as you both put the finishing touches on getting yourselves decent before Jake opened the door. “I should be the only one looking at you when we fuck.”

---

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[pandoa]

since childhood!!

you meet as childhood friends

~feat. twst housewardens~ ~twisted wonderland x gender neutral reader~

warnings: reader is not yuu/prefect and is different for each imagine to fit the setting of the boys (ex: reader is fae in malleus', merfolk in azul's, etc.)

if you want more childhood-like fics, i wrote one with ace and jack linked here!

♡the child you meet at a playground and never see again♡

Riddle Rosehearts couldn’t even remember how or when you had joined him, Trey, and Che’nya in their daily time playing outside the nearby neighborhood. He just knew that once he had stepped outside that day—sneaking out of his home during his study time—you, a strange, new child, had been mindlessly throwing a ball to Trey, giggling in the process. Any outsider passing by could have sworn you‘d already known the young trio for years. Odd, but the boy found himself not objecting to your time spent with him and his friends. You were somehow very comfortable to speak with, and Riddle couldn’t help but find your playfulness intriguing.

“Ha! I win again!” you jumped up and cheered with Trey and Che’nya sitting in a small circle as all three of you held up your hands in exhilaration. 

“Congratulations,” Trey said, returning a proud smile. Resting on a grass-filled hill, the three of you helped yourselves to pass the time with a simple game that lasted longer than expected, if you all were to be honest. Riddle—insisting to only observe for the round—caught sight of the way your competitiveness mixed with Trey’s insightfulness and Che’nya’s natural wit. It was interesting. The way you easily conversed with everyone despite only meeting hours ago, he means.

“Hey, red-head!” you then called out to the young boy watching from afar, “Do you wanna play now? I can teach you the basics; It’s really just a hand game.”

Riddle contemplated for a second until walking closer to join the group, “... I suppose I’ll join.”

“Great!” you beamed, “The game’s called Concentration. Basically, we pick a category and all four of us have to go around taking turns saying a word that matches that specific category. Like if it was, for example, colors, then we all could say things like blue, orange, red—you get the gist of it.”

A nod then came from the red-headed child who was now seated next to you.

“The catch, though,” you continued, “is that you cannot at all hesitate when it’s your turn. So no pausing before speaking. This game’s supposed to be quick and fast. Got it?”

“I’m sure I do—?”

“Good! Let’s start.” With a swift clap of your palms, the game had begun as Riddle was practically pushed into the game with your excitement. Truthfully, he had not the faintest clue as to what he had been doing, but he supposed there was no harm in simply trying, yes? 

“Hmmm, the category for this round, then, would be…” you squinted your eyes, appearing to be deep in thought, “Desserts! Go!”

“Vanilla cake,” Trey began.

“Truffles~” sang Che’nya.

“Strawberry tarts,” Riddle quickly replied.

“Crap!”

Crap?

“All this dessert talk made me remember that my parents wanted me to turn off the oven before ever going out! They’re really gonna kill me this time, I just know it!” you panicked as you suddenly explained your predicament, scrambling from the ground to get back up on your feet, “I gotta go, guys! Bye!”

“And don’t think any of you won just yet! It’s a draw until I say so!” you hollered out to the three boys as you left each of them bewildered and confused. Now only being able to see the back of your running form, Riddle found that, just as you had first met them that day, you had similarly disappeared with a clap of your hands like a ghost of a light at midnight.

Riddle wondered if he’d ever see you again. Sevens, he didn’t even get to catch your name.

♡the friend you sneak out with♡

“Why are you so slow? Get moving! I’ve seen sloths move faster than you, dumbo.”

The young Leona Kingscholar, having heard the ceaseless comments coming from your also young form, gave you a classic deadpan only he could display so perfectly within the empty gardens of the Kingscholar palace. No soul had been there as the only living creatures that remained were the critters chirping their music into the night and breeze of the gardens speaking back with delicacy. That, and everyone else within the grandiose palace had been rooms away, probably swaying to whatever music the Kingscholars had orchestrated for the ball that would take place that day. 

“Yeah, well why don’t you quiet down a bit, hm? You’re hurting my eardrums,” the boy replied, rubbing his left ear in annoyance. For the amount of times you both had snuck off with each other, Leona had thought you would have caught on to the main rule of sneaking out: remaining as quiet as possible until it was safe to speak. 

You’ve gotta be kidding me, the chocolate-haired boy thought.

Playfully poking at his side, you began an attempt to tease him even just for a little bit, “Aw, does the little kitty not like it when he hears my oh-so-wonderful voice?”

“Yeah. It’s obnoxious.”

“Hey—!”

“Shhhh!” Leona, albeit quite swiftly, suddenly placed a firm hand against your mouth, causing you both to halt in place behind an unassuming stone wall, “I think the guards are coming…”

Your heart began to race with anticipation. If the palace guards had managed to catch you two escaping a chance to socialize at a royal event, you would never hear the end of it from your families. “... Do you hear them?” a worried whisper mumbled from your nervous figure.

“Mhm, could you keep watch over here?” the boy said as he bent down on his knees, concealing himself whilst facing the other direction, “I’ll go look on the other side.”

Trusting your dear—and sometimes reliable—friend, you peeked your head out from the wall, keeping watch just as Leona said to do. The gardens had been practically deserted; a stillness in the way the gentle wind blew past the branches had almost convinced you that there was, indeed, no one there. 

Was he just… seeing things? you questioned. But your beastman friend would never, right? His senses were probably a thousand times more intuitive than yours. He’d never make such an obvious mistake.

“Uhm, Leona? I don’t think I see any—” you started as your small hand reached out to tap the boy, but not without noticing the way he had been draped against the wall, seemingly knocked-out unconscious as a barely even noticeable drop of drool spilled from his snoring mouth.

“Leona, you lazy wimp!!”

♡the friend you see at one specific place♡

“Are you done yet?”

“No, (Y/n), I am not,” a young octopus-like boy stated as he simultaneously juggled numerous books and papers on all ten of his limbs, particularly focused on the words written on each page. He sat on his own within a shadow-crested octopus pot and looked as if he had not come out of the pot in ages, you observed. Concerning, but nothing new, you thought. “And I won’t be done until far later,” he said, scrunching his face together, “What do you want?”

You mindlessly began poking at a piece of coral, paying no mind to the boy’s slight sass to his tone. “Nothing~ I just thought I could find you here. Turns out I was right.” You watched as Azul helped himself to another book from his rather tall pile, closing another to add to his collection. “Studying again, I see,” a knowing look then escaped your form as your eyes lit with a teasing shine, “Plotting something against me, Azul?”

“I wouldn’t rule out the possibility,” he replied halfheartedly, “Especially if you keep coming here to disturb me.”

You exclaimed, feigning offense, “Never! I’m simply keeping you company.” The boy then peered up to you as you swam closer to him, reminiscing the earlier days of your friendship. “I still remember the first time I saw you here, crying on your own. The growth you’ve had since that day really is admirable—“

“Enough,” Azul shot you an annoyed glare, “It was already unfortunate for you to first meet me as tears welled from my eyes; there’s no need to sugarcoat the memory.”

Jumping at Azul’s assumptions, you worriedly began to amend any insecurities that struck the young boy beside you. “I’m not sugarcoating anything! And crying in front of me that day was nothing to be ashamed of. If I hadn’t heard your voice coming from the pot, I would’ve never come back here each day, let alone know of your existence in the first place.” You let your palm reach forward to hold his—quite soft—face, allowing your innocent touch to spread to him. “You have grown. But it’s okay to cry too, okay?”

“Alright,” Azul mumbled, face still remaining in your small hands. “Anyway,” he continued as he pulled away from your arms, “do you plan on returning home soon? Your family may worry.”

“No, it’s fine,” you shrugged as a soft ocean current moved past the locks of your hair, “I’ll stay here.”

“You don’t have to—“

“I want to.”

Azul had gazed back at you, almost stunned. “If that is what you wish, then be my guest,” he complied.

You then gave him a gentle smile, “Of course.”

♡the friend you find when you are lost♡

“(Y/n)~! Wait for me!” Kalim said, hollering out to your speeding figure under the golden glow of the Scalding Sands as shadows of the plentiful buildings stretched out with the lowering evening sun. What time it exactly was, you did not know. All you had known was that there was still an ample amount of time for you and your new friend, Kalim, to explore the world around you—seeing as the young boy was just as excited as you.

“The town waits for no one, Kalim! It was made for adventure!” you shouted back behind you, almost leaving the white-haired boy for the dust if he had not caught up sooner. “If there’s one thing you should know about this place, it’s that! Or…” a thoughtful pause then cut between your rambles as you stopped in your tracks, “That’s what my grandparents always tell me, at least. Who knows.”

Kalim—who was now standing beside you—then gave you a grin that could send rays of sunshine to shame with its brightness, “Jamil always tells me to never venture to the town, though; maybe he just doesn’t know the kinds of fun that await here!”

“Eh, I know I’ve never met the kid,” warily, your hand began to reach for your other in concern for your newfound companion, “but this Jamil dude doesn’t sound too… fun.”

“Of course he is, he’s my friend!”

“I know he is, but look at us!” you said as you threw your arms up in the air, exclaiming, “We just met today after I saw you wandering off into Sevens knows where, but we still have fun! Jamil, on the other hand, sounds like he stops you from any kind of fun. What kinda friend does that?”

Kalim, still seeming to be unfazed by your concerns as he let out a laugh, shot you his millionth smile of that day, “He means well!”

“I’ll be the judge of that,” you muttered. “Anyway, enough of that! There’s this really cool area in the alleyways I know that’s perfect for—”

“Kalim!” an unknown voice was then heard not too far from the both of you, “Where have you been?!”

“Jamil! There you are!” the young boy to your left called out to the voice as the mysterious figure treaded closer and closer—but not without you tensing up with caution. “This is my new friend—” Kalim started, cheerily pointing towards you.

“I deeply apologize, but there’s just no more time to waste,” the unknown figure, who you now saw had long locks of dark hair, paid no mind to you as he fretted over your giggling friend, “You’re lucky our families haven’t realized you were gone just yet or I’d never hear the end of it. Come, now. We have to get back quickly.”

“Oh, okay!” Kalim swiftly replied as he waved back enthusiastically to you, “I’ll see you again, (Y/n)!”

Yelling your final goodbyes, you saw as the forms of the two children around your age hastily walked back to wherever their home resided, silhouettes following after with the sky setting in front of them. 

Although despite the day concluding on its own, you never could understand why Kalim’s friend, Jamil, was so protective over him. Sure, you thought, the young boy could be a tad oblivious at times—that you could admit—but going so far as to act as a caretaker for the boy as opposed to being a friend? It’s not like Kalim was the son of a very impactful family that needed protection. He’s just a normal kid for Seven’s sake!

Right?

♡childhood rivals♡

Vil Schoenheit had had enough.

Why out of all the students who attended this dance studio, he had to be partnered with you? The young boy had always thought this, what with you two being dance partners despite the clear friction between the both of you since he could remember. The only reason Vil had ever found himself tolerating it was because of the sole fact of your dance instructor’s judgment. You were talented, he reluctantly admitted. And rehearsing with you out of all people would only benefit his own skills in the arts if he ever wished to get anywhere with his strive for perfection.

The pursuit of beauty knows no bounds, Vil thought as he adjusted the strap stabilizing his dance shoes. 

“Vil!” a familiar—but scour inducing—voice then intruded on the boy’s preparation as he turned his face to look at your a-little-too-cheery-for-his-taste form. “It’s so nice to see that you’ve made it to today’s lesson! I remember you were absent last week because of an important commercial shooting, yes? We all missed your…” you halted yourself, unnecessarily emphasizing your words as if to discredit the compliments coming from your mouth, “treasured talent.”

Vil scoffed at your empty sweetness. “I’m sure you did, (Y/n).” The young actor tilted his chin up as if to search for his own thoughts while doing his best to cover the glare he dearly wished to give you at that moment, “Although, you’ll be out next week too, correct? I hear you’ve been casted in a children’s show as a special guest.” The blond-haired child then turned back to the straps of his shoes, mumbling to himself, “... That I also had auditioned for.” 

Feigning ignorance to his bitterness, you continued carrying on the conversation with your precious dance partner—relishing the way he stared at you with envy at your obtained role in the process. “Ah, yes. Well, as you know, showbiz is showbiz, Schoenheit. Not all of us will get what we want,” you gave him a smile he could only read as a way to anger him even more. “Perhaps we’ll both be casted next time. That would be wonderful, would it not?”

“Indeed.”

A single clap from your instructor was enough for the entire studio to grow quiet, signaling the start of class as students began rushing to their places, “Alright, class, it’s time to begin! Places!”

You gave your partner a final grin as the room was filled with music to go with your warm up, “Don’t trip today, Schoenheit.”

“As if I ever would, (L/n).”

♡online friends who’ve never met♡

With technology constantly surrounding him, it was only natural for Idia to have met you in the online world. Where else would a shut-in like himself find some sort of social interaction he'd actually be willing to be a part of?

Gloomurai: korie! u wanna hop on midnite l8ter? live event drops tday

korie66: ayooooo korie66: im down. lez do it >:)

Gloomurai: nice Gloomurai: korie and gloomurai back at it again

Although, he supposed he didn't really know you. Sure, he knew the artificially curated version you would introduce yourself as within the chat logs on public servers. But he had never known the "IRL" version of you, let alone your real name. Still—Idia thought as he sat in front of his blue and black gaming set-up, monitor displaying another game he'd binge that night—it was still nice having a buddy to play numerous games with. A kid like him who had the same interests. A kid who also found freedom within the internet.

korie66: YOOOOOOO GLOOMURAI korie66: GET ON MAGITROPICA RN

Gloomurai: wht? y?

korie66: FREE STUFF

Gloomurai: DONT HAVE TO TELL ME TWICE

Both of your days were spent trading the best items, sharing tips for a new game level, or even just chatting for the fun of it. Each night Idia had even found himself eagerly shuffling to his room, shutting the door behind him, and turning on his PC just to make it in time for your scheduled co-ops.

Eventually, you and Idia had found yourselves much more open with one another as well; a certain kind of trust that could only form with the number of years you had played together. What was the point in finding real-life friends, the young Idia thought as he snagged a bag of chips to eat while playing with you, if he had you to spend time with instead? One friend was all he needed, and you filled that roll perfectly!

Gloomurai: YESSSSSESEES LETS GOOOOO

korie66: NICE GOING GLOOMI~~ WE TOTALLY BEAT THAT LAST BOSS LEVEL LMAO

Gloomurai: YEAH Gloomurai: FR THE BEST DUO

korie66: I SWEAR IM NEVER DITCHING U, GLOOMI korie66: CANT DO ANYTHING W/O YOU LOL

Gloomurai: U BETTER NOT HAAHAHAHAJ

This was all he needed. Your friendship was all he needed.

Idia—now a third year student and housewarden at Night Raven College—sighed as he closed the latest game he'd been playing, cracking his back as he stretched like cat waking up from a deep sleep. Determining it was far too early for bedtime, however, the young man had decided it was a good hour to clear out his PC's memory. It was about time. It had been a while.

Scrolling and deleting through file and files, memories, and unused downloads, Idia had found nothing of importance to him and trashed everything in his path. That is, until he spotted a familiar chat log that read UNSTOPPABLE DUO hidden deep within his message history.

The Ignihyde housewarden gazed at the chat name he knew all too well. A certain feeling then began to rise within his chest as his hand subconsciously guided his mouse towards the familiar icon of your profile picture, still the same as it was years ago.

This is a really bad idea, Idia voiced in his mind. Yet, despite being against his own actions, Idia watched as his own hand clicked your name—only to spot a sea of red text blaring through the screen as he peered at the pixels of his computer:

korie66: Last Active 10 years ago. . .

Idia slumped over in his chair at the text, dejected, "I don't know why I even tried."

Shutting off his monitor, the blue-haired boy then stood from his chair and begrudgingly marched back to his bed, concluding his late night. He hadn't known what he was even expecting, at that point. He'd long knew of your inactivity; it's not like he didn't know what he'd see.

It really was just a shame you never had a chance to meet each other, Idia thought. He supposed, though, that some people were never meant to truly remain friends, to remain together.

And you were no exception to that.

♡the friend you meet by accident♡

“OH SEVENS NOT AGAIN—”

“Hm?” Malleus, who had been peacefully reading a book during his break from his studies, suddenly peered up from his spot in the palace gardens at the alarming shouts coming from the sky. It had been a relatively clear afternoon; one with few clouds in the atmosphere and very few birds soaring above, which only left the young fae even more curious at the panicking screams he could catch from his place beside the flower beds. Gently placing his now discarded book down to the grass, Malleus then made his way closer to the figure as a blur of (h/c) fell from the sky and into a nearby bush.

Thud! 

“Ugh, I knew trying that spell would be a total fail,” the figure, who Malleus could now make out as a fae child around his age, dwelled as they rubbed a couple bruises on their arms, healing themselves. “I guess this is what happens when I don’t listen to Mother, but—"

“Ahem,” Malleus cleared his throat, finally gaining the child’s attention.

“AAAHHH—” you screamed again, only this time with shock at the sight of another living being around you. “Gosh, don’t scare me like that! What if my magic went all kapooey on you?! What would happen then?” you scolded the rather tall boy as you stood up from your previously injured state—skin now pristine due to your magic.

“Hm…” the dark-haired boy before you contemplated your words, “Then I suppose going ‘kapooey’ wouldn’t be very good for me, correct?”

“Exactly! I’m glad we’re on the same page.” You turned your body away from the boy as you inspected your dirt-stained clothes, wincing at the rips caused from your fall into the bush. “I don’t even want to imagine what Mother would do to me if she found out I’d harmed another fae—another child at that, too! Although,” your eyes then followed up the fae’s face and pointed its attention straight towards the two black horns resting atop his head, “you do look a bit different than me… Where are we right now?” No other fae from where you were from had any such horns like his; you were sure of it! You must’ve landed in another land other than your own, if that were the case.

But where, exactly? You thought.

“Briar Valley,” the horned-boy swiftly replied, “The palace, to be exact.”

“Briar Valley?! I must have traveled further than I thought, then!” a frazzled exclaim escaped your mouth as you struggled with your hands to prepare whatever spell had gotten you there in the first place. “I have to go right away! So sorry for intruding, uh…” a hesitant pause ensued as you held out a hand to the child, signaling an introduction from him.

“Malleus. My name is Malleus,” he softly gave you a smile.

You returned his smile with a grin of your own, shaking his hand, “Right. Thank you, Malleus. I’m (Y/n).”

“It was no issue.”

And with your final goodbyes to the fae you’d just met, Malleus then stood and followed your form as you disappeared to Sevens know where. The only remnants left of your presence were the gold, sparkling specs of magic that remained after you casted your spell, filling the palace garden with dust that resembled stars scattered throughout the greenery. Malleus, at the sight of your magic, had then begun to wonder just where you had come from and why you had landed there that day as quickly as you left. 

The chances of seeing you again were slim. Still, however…

“(Y/n),” Malleus had whispered to himself.

“A lovely name for a fae such as themselves, yes?”

a/n: ALL IN FAVOR FOR MORE RIVAL READER X VIL SAY AYEE-AYEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

god this was such a nightmare to finish iM SO GLAD I PULLED THROUGH THO I FR GAVE UP HALFWAY ESPECIALLY WITH IDIA'S-

[slut4thebroken]

“Childhood Enemies Turned Lovers?” - part 1

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Pairing | Robert Fischer x reader

Summary | Arranged marriage enemies to lovers au. Need I say more?

Warnings | Angst, fluff?, domestic violence, kind of, slow burn, but not too slow, misogyny, i think, enemies to lovers, alcohol, robert is so fucking sassy lol, slut shaming, flirting, implied/referenced homophobia.

Words | 4.1 k

Notes | We’re not gonna talk about how the reason for this arranged marriage lowkey makes no sense okay? 🤫

Ao3 link | <3

Fic Masterlist

Main Masterlist

You’ve hated Robert Fischer for as long as you can remember. Growing up, your father told you that the Fischer’s were no good and their business wasn’t much better. You, of course, believed him. You didn’t know any better. 

Unfortunately, you often attended the same events, like charity galas and fundraisers, and every single interaction ended in juvenile bickering. As you got older, you grew to resent him— solely because of the fact that he got hot and you couldn’t have him— and the jabs became more personal. You mocked him for his daddy issues, he mocked you for your reputation— you’re seen a few times with different guys and all of a sudden that makes you a whore, nevermind the fact that half of the guys you were seen with are gayer than Elton John. 

But the rivalry between your families was hurting both businesses. And even though neither you nor Robert had anything to do with it, you were still partially responsible apparently. Which is how you found yourself at dinner, sitting next to your father and across from Robert, his father beside him. The tension was thick, one wrong word from anyone and all of this would go down the drain immediately. So you kept your mouth shut, letting your father do the talking. 

“As much as we both hate to admit it, we can’t keep this up.” He said and you waited for the point he was trying to make. 

“Both of our businesses are struggling because of it and I think we came to a fair solution.” Robert’s father added. You sighed and picked up your wine to stop yourself from telling them to just spit it out already. “We want you both to get married.” You choked on your drink and started coughing as you set the glass back down, Robert had a similar reaction with his food. 

“It would end this petty feud and our businesses would be stronger together.” Your father explained and you turned to him in shock, staring at him as if he had grown a second head. 

“Are you fucking crazy?” You hissed, making his gaze harden. 

“Don’t make a scene. We don’t need you embarrassing the family any further.” He spat, making you clench your jaw and look away. It’s not your fault paparazzi are obsessed with you and stalk you everywhere you go.  

“I never thought I’d say this, but I have to agree with her.” Robert finally chimed in, speaking apprehensively. 

“Son, you know we’re right.” You watched him soften at his fathers words— what a weak little daddy’s boy. You thought with a scoff. 

“No you’re not.” You said, keeping your voice at a normal level. 

“That’s not for you to decide.” Your father said and you stood up suddenly, throwing the napkin from your lap onto your plate and grabbing your purse. “Sit back down. We’re not done.” He warned. 

“I’m not listening to this shit. Figure out another solution.” You spat. When you tried to walk away, he grabbed your wrist in a bruising grip. You swallowed down a whimper from the pain, not turning back around to face him as your eyes started watering. 

“Sit down.” He hissed, tightening his grip until you couldn’t hold down the sound anymore. Thankfully, it didn’t seem like anyone heard it. You moved back to your seat and he let you go. 

As you kept your gaze on your lap and rubbed your sore wrist, you could practically feel his gaze on you. Sure enough, when you looked up, Robert was staring at you with a mixture of confusion, concern, and pity. 

“I’m sorry. One day I know you both will see this the way we do.” His father said. After a few more minutes of the men conversing and you keeping your head down, your father finally dismissed you and you practically ran out of the restaurant. You texted your driver, then waited outside the building, trying to at least wait until you were in the car to start crying. 

“Hi.” You stiffened, then shook your head with a sniffle. 

“I don’t need this right now, Fischer.” You said quietly, voice trembling. 

“Me neither. I came to ask if you’re okay.” He spoke with a gentleness you didn’t know he was capable of. 

“Of course I’m not fucking okay.” You spat viciously. “I’m barely in my mid twenties, I don’t want to marry yet— I’m not ready to marry yet. Let alone you. I want to- to marry someone I love.” Your voice broke pathetically and you kept your gaze forward or down, not able to look at him. He let out a heavy sigh, but didn’t respond, seemingly realizing that nothing he could say would help right now. His hand suddenly touching yours made you flinch as you head snapped to him. He gently lifted your hand and inspected your wrist, running his thumb over the red skin. 

“Don’t.” You said sharply, not wanting to feel worse about yourself. 

“I didn’t say anything.” 

“Well you thought it. He’s not— he’s not an abuser, okay? He just doesn’t know his own strength.” You defended weakly. The first part you technically believed, but you knew that what he did was always intentional— one of his ways of asserting his power over you. 

“I’m sorry.” He said quietly, making your gaze harden. 

“I don’t need your pity.” You spat, pulling your hand away. You could’ve cried in relief when your car finally pulled up. He called out for you when you started walking away, making you freeze, then turn back around. 

“They told me to tell you there’s going to be a meeting you need to attend next week to go over everything.”  

“Is that all?” You asked, voice breaking slightly as you spoke. 

He hesitated, then gave you a small, “yes” and you continued walking, now finding the driver standing there with the door open. You spared him one last glance before getting in. Even though you knew he couldn’t see you through the practically black window tint, it still felt like his gaze was on you. 

The next few days were spent drinking and crying. Eventually you decided your pity party was over. If you’re about to be married off like fucking cattle, might as well make the most of your time as a free woman, right? Which is how you found yourself at your semi regular hookup’s house. 

It wasn’t good. He seemed to realize that your mind was elsewhere and offered to talk, saying you didn’t have to keep going. That made you scoff and snap back some mean retort about how if you wanted to talk, you would’ve hit up a shrink. Which you felt bad about, but it was quickly forgotten. 

The meeting was in two days. There were moments when you seriously considered not going… but you didn’t want to find out what the consequences would be. On the day of the meeting, you woke up late— already off to a bad start— and had to quickly wipe off last night's makeup and do your best to reapply it quickly. 

When you arrived, the conversation stopped and everyone turned to you, watching you take off your sunglasses as you sat in the only open chair, next to Robert. 

“Nice of you to finally join us— and hungover too.” Your father snarked. 

“Sorry I’m late.” You said with an exaggerated smile. “Please continue.” The expression dropped almost instantly and you waited for the conversation to pick back up. 

It dragged on slowly. They talked about the business and legal aspects of the deal, made sure everyone was on the same page about what they would get out of this arrangement, and you just sat there the whole time, trying not to cry as you thought about how you’d never be able to have a boyfriend— at least not a public one, and he probably wouldn’t want to put up with the secrecy of it all. Those thoughts spiraled into the realization that you’ll never experience being with someone you truly love. 

Someone called your name loudly, making your head snap up. 

“What?” You asked, trying to push down the panic attack. 

“I asked if you were listening.” Your father said, completely unamused. 

“I was. I need to just— I need… I have to go to the bathroom.” You scrambled out of your chair, ignoring your father calling out for you, and practically ran to the bathroom. You slammed the door shut and locked it, then leaned against it, trying to take deep breaths as you hyperventilated. Your chest tightened and you doubled over, placing your hands on your knees to steady yourself. Tears quickly filled your eyes when you remembered why you were having a panic attack in the first place. 

Someone slammed their fist on the door rapidly, making your breath catch in your throat. 

“Come out of there, I’m not going to tell you again.” Your father said, making your crying come back full force. 

“I- I’m almost done.” You did your best to get the words out through your sobs and uneven breaths. You waited for him to yell again, maybe get someone to break down the door, but you heard hushed voices, then silence, followed by a quiet knock. 

“What?” You croaked. 

“He only agreed to let me.. ‘handle’ this, if you actually let me in.” He said tentatively and you had no reason not to believe him, so you unlocked the door, then leaned against the wall so he could come in. 

He almost seemed shocked by your current state, probably expecting you to have just run in here out of boredom. 

“I can’t. I can’t, Robert.” You whimpered, taking in shaky, uneven breaths. 

“I think we can find a way to make this work.” He said softly, making you shake your head. 

“I don’t want to be married to you for the rest of my fucking life! I want to marry someone I love, someone I actually want to spend my life with.” 

“I know, I do too. Can you just listen to me please?” You don’t think you’ve ever heard him say the word please before. When you stayed silent, he continued. “My father is already very old and within a few years, he’ll most likely pass and the company will be mine. After that I can try to keep the peace with your family and we can get a divorce, then go our separate ways. I know it’s not ideal, but you’re not going to be stuck in a loveless marriage for the rest of your life.” You started to calm down as you processed his words. You really only have to wait maybe five or ten years before this will be over. Which seems like a lot but you’ll still only be in your early to mid thirties. It could be worse. 

“You’re right. I didn’t think about it like that.” You said, exhaustion clear in your voice now that you weren’t actively panicking anymore. 

“I usually am, you’re just too stubborn to listen to me.” He chuckled, making the corners of your lips curl up into a small smile. “Make yourself presentable, then come back out. The meeting’s almost over but they want us to get lunch together for our first publicity stunt.” You were about to make a snide remark about him telling you to ‘make yourself presentable’ but it died in your throat when you looked in the mirror. 

“Oh my god.” You muttered, embarrassed. He chuckled as he left the bathroom and only then did you register what he said— you have to get lunch with him. Looking like you just crawled out of a dumpster after rotting there for a week. You did your best to wipe away the mascara on your face and just touch up the rest of you, in hopes of making your face slightly less noticeable. Taking a deep breath, you held your head high and put on your best fake smile before walking out. 

“Sorry, everyone. I hope I didn’t miss anything too important.” Your father gave you a warning glare at your demeanor. “I heard we’re getting lunch?” You said, trying to move the topic away from yourself. 

“Yes. You two have made enough of a fuss in public that just jumping right into this will be worse than playing it up, pretending like you’re actually starting to get along now.” Mr. Fischer explained. 

“Paparazzi will be there?” You confirmed. 

“Yes. So you might want to stop by your apartment first and make yourself presentable.” Your father added, making you take a deep breath as you dug your nails into your hand. 

“Got it. Anything else?” You didn’t mean for it to sound sarcastic, but based on your fathers expression, that’s how it came out. Thankfully Robert spoke before he could comment on it. 

“They want us to arrive together. Should I meet you at your apartment later or just come with you now?” Your apartment was a mess right now— that’s the last thing you wanted. 

“I think it would be best if,”

“Go with her.” Your father answered for you. Robert looked at you questioningly and you gave him a dry smile. 

“Sure. Come with me.”

After a short drive, you finally arrived in front of your apartment building. When he started unbuckling his seatbelt, you turned to him. 

“Maybe you could.. wait in the car?”

“I don’t want to sit in here for an hour while you get ready.” He scoffed and you rolled your eyes. 

“Fine. Suit yourself.” 

You led the way and when the front door opened his eyes widened in shock as he stepped inside. 

“Welcome to my depression house. This is how it looks when I’m depressed.” You said sarcastically, walking over to grab the empty bottles of alcohol from the coffee table and put them in the trash. 

“Should I be offended?” He asked, walking around the messy space. 

“Maybe just a little.” You said teasingly. He eyed the pictures of you and your friends—none with your family, he noticed— and the little trinkets you had on the bookshelf, then turned and looked at the rest of the room. 

“It’s… cuter than I thought it would be.” He finally turned to you and you raised your brows. 

“What, were you expecting an evil lair? Maybe a dungeon?” You asked, amused. 

“No, I just… didn’t think you’d have so many decorations, let alone colorful ones.” 

“Well I hope you’re good at adapting because you’ll be stuck with this for the next few years.” 

“We are not decorating like this.” He scoffed. 

“If you want to tell our fathers that you refuse to go through with this because you don’t want to live in a beautiful house, then go ahead.” 

“I think they’d understand.” He sneered and you narrowed your eyes at him. He’s not wrong though, your father used to hate how you decorated your room when you lived in his house. He hates the way you decorate your apartment even more though. 

“Ever heard of the phrase, ‘happy wife, happy life’? Because it’s true and I’ll enjoy making your life a living hell until you finally give in.” You smirked. 

“God— I forgot how much of a stubborn bitch you are when you’re not moping.” He spat and you gaped at him. 

“And I forgot how insufferable you can be when you’re not kissing your daddy’s ass!” 

“Maybe if you tried that every once in a while, your father wouldn’t treat you the way he does!” He seemed to immediately realize what he said, after he said it. You clenched your jaw and looked down, taking a deep breath. You were already emotional from the meeting, so it wasn’t surprising when your eyes started burning with tears. 

You wished he was right. But your father has always treated you the same no matter how you act, you learned that very early on. 

“I didn’t mean,” 

“Stop.” You said quietly. “I’m just going to go get ready.” You muttered, walking passed him and into your room, closing the door just a little too loudly. 

You were mostly just embarrassed now, rather than angry, and you wanted nothing more than to just stay locked in your room today. But you couldn’t. So you redid your makeup, put on a nice outfit with a matching purse, then walked back out. He suddenly stood up from the couch, as if you had caught him doing something he shouldn’t be doing. 

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have,”

“It’s fine. Next time though, you could at least make the insult true and a little more creative.” You didn’t look at him as you walked past him to grab your keys and open the door. You waited impatiently as he tentatively walked closer. 

“God, Fischer, could you move any slower?” You huffed, making him roll his eyes, but speed up. 

The car ride to the restaurant was awkward. Neither of you really knew what to say. You were just glad when his phone rang, it felt like it made the tension a little less thick in the small space. You listened to him talk, wondering what the conversation was about. Whoever was on the line was doing most of the talking because he responded with “yes” and “okay” and “I understand” and not much else. When he finally hung up and put his phone back in his pocket, he turned to you. 

“That was my father. He wanted to remind us to pretend like we actually want to be there.” You scoffed a laugh, rolling your eyes. 

“I’m surprised no one called me to tell me that.” 

“I’m guessing they figured I’d take it better and be more successful at convincing you to behave.” He said teasingly. 

“Oh, I can behave, Mr. Fischer. Contrary to popular belief I can be a good girl.” Your tone was overly seductive and you batted your eyelashes at him, smirking when his cheeks turned pink. 

“Don’t call me that.” It's almost comical the way he thinks he can sway the conversation in the direction he wants. 

“What should I call you then? Sir?” He cleared his throat and shifted in his seat. 

“Robert is fine.” He said, voice strained. You barked out a laugh, making his cheeks go even redder as he clenched his jaw, not looking at you. 

“You’re too easy, Fischer.” 

Lunch went surprisingly well. You had a few small spats, but you both made sure to keep the smiles on your faces. Anyone who wasn’t in hearing distance would think you were having a pleasant conversation. 

You made the headlines less than 24 hours later. “Childhood Enemies Turned Lovers?” You almost scoffed at the cheesy line— that was seriously the best they could come up with? The pictures included were all carefully selected by a PR team so that people would believe the fake date was actually real. 

The following week, your father texted, ‘Sunday early afternoon.’ and nothing else. You figured it was another PR thing, but you texted Robert to be sure. He confirmed that it was indeed another planned ‘date’ and that he’d pick you up at 11, telling you to dress pretty, which made you scoff. You almost did the opposite, just to piss everyone off, but your father’s been off your back a little more than usual, so you decided to just do it. You wore a sundress and a cardigan, hoping it would be “cute” enough. When you got in the car, you frowned.  

“Why do I have to wear a dress but you can wear that?” That made him scoff. 

“I’m significantly more dressed up than you. Why are you complaining?” 

“Yeah but that’s different, you always wear that.” 

“I don’t know, okay? I didn’t decide.” You huffed and turned back to face the front of the car with your arms crossed over your chest. “You look good though.” He suddenly said, making your head snap back to him. His gaze was trained on the bare skin of your thighs for a moment before slowly trailing back up your body, lingering on your breasts that were pushed up because of your crossed arms. 

“You done yet?” You asked, making his eyes meet yours as his lips curled up into a small smirk. 

“No, not yet.” His gaze moved back to your body and you scoffed as your cheeks heated up. 

“Fine. Let me know when you’re finished objectifying me please.” You said with faux seriousness, even though part of you was enjoying the attention. 

You arrived at a cafe and he held the door open for you to walk inside, making you blush— and need to remind yourself that this wasn’t real. You both ordered your drinks and he paid. Once you were walking outside for a bit, drinks in hand, you couldn’t push down the curiosity anymore. 

“Where are we going?” 

“A walk.” 

“I hate walks.” You frowned, making him turn to you. 

“Okay? What am I supposed to do about that? Carry you?” You rolled your eyes at his tone. 

“You’re so sassy sometimes, has anyone ever told you that?” 

“Not to my face. Why? Did you hear something?” You snorted a laugh at that, making him smile. You walked in comfortable silence for a while, then when his hand suddenly brushed yours, you flinched away from him. 

“What are you doing?” 

“They didn’t tell you because they figured you’d throw a fit about it— their words, not mine.” He added the last part when he saw your expression. 

“Don’t you think holding hands on the second date is a little soon?” He looked over at you with raised brows as he grabbed your hand. 

“You’ve been known to do more on less.” You could tell that he didn’t really believe it, he was just teasing you. 

“That’s only because those dates were the first ones where the paparazzi actually saw us.” You explained, feeling like you needed to defend your reputation to him. Which was weird cause you’ve never cared too much before. 

“That wasn’t denial.” He smirked and you rolled your eyes with a huff. 

“What, you think I fuck on the first date too?” 

“I didn’t say that.” He defended, making you scoff. “…But based on some of those videos.. I wouldn’t be surprised.” He added tentatively. 

“Don’t act like you haven’t been caught doing the same thing. The only reason people don’t call you a slut is because you're a man.” 

“Those were all PR stunts.” He said quietly, the teasing tone now slightly gone. “I don’t usually take girls out in public which caused a whole big speculation of me being gay and obviously my father couldn’t have that.” He chuckled dryly, making you frown. 

“Are you?” You hoped your tone showed that you weren’t making fun of him, but genuinely asking. 

“No.” He said defensively. “Are you?” It almost seemed like he was expecting this big ah ha moment, the way he asked that. 

“I don’t know. I’ve never dated a woman— also because of my father. I’ve hooked up with a few, but I never let myself focus on my feelings for them too hard because if I am, then that’s a whole big secret I have to keep and I just really don’t want to worry about that.” Saying it out loud like that made you sound so fucking gay— “And it’s not that I don’t like men!” You added quickly. “I just,”

“I understand.” You both walked in silence for a few more minutes, then let out simultaneous sighs when you saw the first camera. Even though this was staged, you still don’t exactly have fond memories with paparazzi, so it was pretty uncomfortable to say the least. 

“Just think,” He murmured against your ear, making you shiver, “after a few pictures, we’re done and you can go back to your depression house with your weird decorations and not have to put up with me for a while.” You couldn’t suppress the laugh from his words and you tried to ignore the way the clicking of the cameras got more intense. 

“I actually cleaned. So it’s not a depression house anymore. And they’re not weird, they’re cute and fun.” He pulled back to look at you, the signature ‘son of a millionaire’ smirk on his face. 

“Sure they are, sweetheart.” Despite the mocking tone, your entire face turned red from the pet name. 

The photos were released later that night, the main ones being you laughing and smiling as he whispered something in your ear. God— you looked so pathetically love sick, it’s disgusting. 

Part 2

Taglist (join here)

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[beautifulchris]

obsessed

pairing: dancer!lee minho x videographer!gn!reader

summary: minho was the most perfect guy you had the privilege of encountering—and working with. without even trying—or meaning to—, he got you wrapped around his fingers

genres: fluff, angst, strangers to lovers to exes!au, colleagues!au, first person pov!!

wc: 4,4k

tw: obsession, toxic relationship, swearing (in lyrics only, who would've thought), violence, injuries, mention of blood

notes: heyyy! this fic is part of my collection of fics! indented are the lyrics, banner made by me on canva. andddd i'd appreaciate it greatly if you could tell me what you thought about it!! happy reading!

listen to the song for a more immersive experience: spotify link | youtube link

networks: @kflixnet @k-labels @kwritersworld @whipped-kpop-creators @straykidsland

permanent tag list: @soobin-chois @exfolitae @linos-catnip @prettymiye0n (tell me if you want to be added/removed)

stray kids tag list: @raethethey

Lee Minho (1998).

Have you seen this man?

Perfect skin, heart face shape, a sharp nose, wide cheekbones, cat-like eyes, long eyelashes and pretty, pouty lips.

The moment I laid eyes on him, I knew it was over. He was just so attractive, always walking like he owned the place, and, without realizing it, I became infatuated with him.

I was a newbie videographer in this dancing company called Twinkle Toes. Yes, I did apply there because of its name, being an ATLA fan and all. Anyway, Minho was the best dancer they had.

The obsession started when I first saw him dance. His technique and control were perfect, I could clearly see why he was a professional dancer. All the fluid and effortlessly looking movements he made gave me goosebumps every time I was behind the camera. Or anywhere inside the room, really.

I approached him first. Complimented him on his dancing, which seemed to please him. I kept being supportive and throwing seductive glances his way every now and then. I became hungry for his attention.

Oh, my Lord, never met someone like you before Think I'm kinda going overboard Now I'm obsessed, how can somebody be so perfect? Boy, you really got me by the neck Whatever you want, you just gotta ask

I made no secret of my admiration. Soon, everybody knew but I couldn’t care less.

“You’re so strong, Minho,” I mused from behind the camera. “Thanks to your efforts, the video will come out perfectly.”

He failed to suppress a smile, yet dismissed the compliment with a vague movement of his hand. “It’s a team effort.”

Of course, I knew that. Yeah. The fourteen other dancers were good, but none of them were in the same league as Minho. He was above everyone in this company.

I was usually right.

After filming ended, I took my stuff—camera, tripod, laptop—and walked towards my designated studio where I could work on editing. I wasn’t totally installed when someone knocked on the door. It was so faint I thought I’d dreamed it, until they knocked again.

I opened the door, revealing a shy looking Minho, who didn’t seem to be able to meet my eyes. I found it adorable.

“Yes?”

“Uh, I… Can I come in?”

Now, why would he even want to come inside? Was my flirting so powerful that he already wanted to spend more time with me? I wasn’t one to complain about that.

“Sure,” I said, taking a step back and closing the door behind him.

“So that’s what your studio looks like,” he commented, looking around.

It was a small room with a large desk filled with everything I needed to do my job. The stuff I had with me in the danceroom plus a computer, lenses, microphones, cables, memory cards… Everything was perfectly organized. Bigger equipment—camera bags, studio light, reflectors, tripods—were tidied next to the desk. A gaming chair was in front of it, and on the other side was a two-seater sofa.

“Do you mind if I stay with you while you work?”

I smiled internally. It was so easy.

“No, of course. Are you done for the day?”

“Yeah, finally. Thanks.”

“What for?”

“For letting me stay with you.”

SCREAMING. PUNCHING THE WALL. I could’ve smacked his arm right now for saying this so casually. Sure enough, I didn’t. Instead, I motioned for him to sit on the sofa while I placed my laptop on the desk before opening it.

I could tell I was professional with how well I handled the situation I was in. I kept my desire to turn around and stare at him buried inside me as I edited the video. I had a week to finalize it for an upcoming dancing contest. I was determined to show the dancers’ best side through the video. I also tried not to show Minho too much, even though he was around 20% more present than the rest. It wasn’t my fault the videos he was in were better.

Oh, well. It was common knowledge he was our best hope at winning.

It was getting late, and I was feeling hungry. I saved my progress, switched off the computers and turned around. I’d imagined Minho to be fast asleep, as my job could be found boring from the outside. To my surprise, he was looking straight at me.

“Are you OK?” I asked, conscious he had been waiting for a long time.

See, I checked the time before closing my laptop. I had been working for a bit more than two hours.

He nodded. “Are you, though? Don’t you feel sore?”

Now that he mentioned it, I couldn’t feel my butt anymore. A common occurrence in this field. I got up, stretched arms, back, legs and unintentionally yawned.

“Do you want to get dinner?”

He seemed nervous all of a sudden. Ah, if I could make him mine right now…

“Only if you pay.”

“Deal.”

Ten minutes later, we were walking side-by-side toward a little restaurant owned by a strict-looking yet lovely grandma near our workplace. We’d eaten there before, with our coworkers.

As a typical small-business Korean restaurant, the room was approximately ten times bigger than my studio. Twelve four-seater tables were placed around the room at a relatively safe distance from each other. On every one of them were a wooden cutlery holder for four, and a matching little box full of thin napkins. The walnut-colored counter was on the far end of the room, and the hole that was supposed to be a door behind it led to the kitchen. The only thing giving a bit of privacy to the cook were white lace curtains attached to each side of the… door-shaped hole. On the left side of the room, a TV screen and posters—with pictures—of the menu were displayed on the wall. While on the right side, as well as a bathroom door, were decorations and an ‘appreciation wall’ with a lot of little notes and doodles from customers.

I wanted to sit next to it. If we ran out of things to say, we could always talk about that.

Grandma greeted us with a smile when she saw us, showing us to a table on the opposite side. “Hello grandma, can we actually sit at that one? It’s easier to watch TV there.”

Of course, I had no intention to watch TV, but no one needed to know that.

“Sure, my child, go sit. I’ll be right there.”

Thanking her, we sat right next to the rating wall.

There was one other customer closest to the counter. A regular, by the looks of it. Grandma went to the kitchen and came back with a steaming dish. She delicately put it down in front of the man before providing us with the menus. He thanked her and resumed his reading of a journal. Which I couldn’t identify because I don’t read journals.

Minho and I looked at the menu like we had no idea what to order. While I already knew what his favorite dish was, I opted for something I hadn’t tried before. You see, I like to try everything on the menu. It was a habit in restaurants I often went to. Of course, if it were to be a one-time restaurant, I would order the food that makes me salivate the most. Minho preferred savory foods. The tastier, the better.

He rapidly scanned the plastified paper on the table before looking up at me. “I’ve chosen. You?”

I straightened up, flashing my signature grin, and nodded once. “Same. Any drinks?”

“Soju?”

“Sure.”

Three young people entered the place. Grandma placed them on the left side of the room and came to us. “What would you like, my children?”

“Bulgogi bibimbap for me, please.”

“Jajangmyeon and a bottle of soju, please,” Minho ordered, taking the menu from me and giving them both back to grandma with a sweet smile.

She smiled like a lovely grandma would—contently with a hint of nostalgia.

We never got to speak about the appreciation wall nor did I once glanced at the TV, because we talked a lot and there were few moments of silence.

After that dinner, we spent a lot of time together outside the company. I believed he enjoyed my presence as much as I savored his. We flirted, went on dates every now and then, and recently started dating.

Then, around two months after our first day together, a new, talented dancer entered the company. Her body had beautiful curves. She had long, black silky hair, and toned abs. It didn’t help that she was gorgeous, social, and easygoing.

In just a few days, she had befriended the whole building. It felt like she had always been there. To my dismay, even Minho seemed to like her.

“What do you think of Soojin?” I asked as casually as manageable, considering I was eager to get an answer.

“She’s cool.” Minho shrugged, looking up at the blue sky. “And a good dancer. Why do you ask?”

How he could manage to look so ethereal under the sunlight yet give me such a soft glance was beyond my understanding. He got a hold on me, that was for sure.

“I agree, she’s good. You might have to share your spotlight in the next competitions and projects.”

He smirked. “Was about time. It’s been lonely up there.”

I knew he was joking. He never considered himself as above his colleagues. I frowned for another reason. I couldn’t ignore the thought from overwhelming me. Was I not enough for him? Was I just a pastime? I wasn’t a dancer. Was it a dealbreaker for him? 

Minho’s gentle glance became a concerned stare as he stopped in his tracks. “What’s wrong?”

“Do you like me?”

He opened his mouth, but I couldn’t wait for his response.

“Am I good enough? Do you like Soojin more? Do you want to date her? Are you just playing with me?”

Because I would still be wrapped around your finger either way.

“Hey, breathe, babe. I’m here, I’m with you.”

I did as told, and my next words came out as a whisper.

“Are you though?”

“Where is all this coming from? Why would I be interested in Soojin?”

“She’s gorgeous, talented, and a sweetheart. Who wouldn’t like her?”

He smiled softly, taking my hand in his. “Is this your way of telling me you’re interested in her?”

“I’m serious.”

“You have nothing to worry about. I like you.”

I wanted to believe him, but I couldn’t get rid of the voices.

Soojin and Minho were the jewels of the company. Meaning they had way more screen time—which was my job—and training sessions together—which was their job. I had to stand behind my camera for hours while watching them dance together. Helplessly watching their bodies touch and their breaths tangle. The sensual moves made me want to break something.

Jealousy stirred up inside me, and I think it showed, because several colleagues around the room sent me looks of pity and sorry.

I knew it was just the job for Minho, but I couldn’t help it. It was beyond my control. Ever since the choreographers created this dance, I have been vile to Minho. Exposing my jealousy to him in private.

“I’m sorry, sweetie. I hate hurting you. Really. However, I can’t simply stop dancing. It’s my dream life.”

“I’m not asking you to stop doing what you love, I’m asking you to stop doing it with her!” I snapped.

“Doing that will get me fired, you know that. I told you I picture you whenever I’m dancing with her. Is it not enough?”

He was pleading, but I could sense he was tired and frustrated.

“I like you, not Soojin. I need you to understand that.”

“You say that now,” I said in a low voice, “but I see the way she looks at you.” My voice broke, and I looked away.

Minho shook his head. “Please, stop. I’m exhausted. I’m dating you, aren’t I? What more do you need to be satisfied?”

It stinged. The worst part was he didn’t scream. His voice was stern and accusing. No words would leave my lips. He took my silence as a cue to leave the toxic environment I created. I couldn’t blame him for wanting to stay away.

But I could blame someone else.

I tried to film Soojin in her less good angle, but it felt like she was flawless under any angle. It was frustrating, not even being able to compromise her while doing my job.

Minho, being smart and all, realized what I was trying to do while Soojin was doing a solo dance. His eyes were glued to me the whole time. He grabbed me by the arm the minute I finished for the day and brought all my stuff back to my studio. He made me turn around to face him.

“What did you do back there?”

I was hurt by his suspicion, even though he was right. I stood my ground and lied through my teeth. “I didn’t do anything.”

He sighed in exasperation and let go of me. “Look, I won’t say I know you because clearly, as much as I thought I did, I actually don’t. But I know you did something.” His face softened, but his lips stayed pressed in a thin line. “Please, help me understand. Why would you resent Soojin so much you’re willing to risk your job? What do I ignore?”

I was angry. Why would he defend her if nothing was happening between the two?

“Why do you care so much, Minho? Who is she to you?”

He stepped back, blinking a few times. “This again? I don’t recognize you anymore, Y/N. I thought I knew you. Since Soojin joined our crew, you’ve changed. I believe I didn’t give you any reason to be jealous of her, excluding my job. Then again, I know how to separate professional and personal matters. I chose not to where you’re concerned because I liked you. But now, I don’t think I want to do this any longer. It’s draining me, and I lost my will to fight for us.”

Wait. What?

“Are you breaking up with me? Is that it?” I sounded frantic—and I was. All I understood from his tirade was that he was leaving me, probably for her. This bitch. She dared steal my boyfriend.

“All these past weeks fighting made me reconsider our relationship. I’m sorry, Y/N. I like you, but I can’t be with you.”

He silently stared at me for a moment, hurt and determination visible on his face, before turning heels and heading out.

My legs gave out. Minho broke up with me. I had no intention to accept this. It was all this woman’s fault. She had bewitched him, I was sure of it.

When I ran into Minho the next day, he avoided looking me in the eyes. Everybody could see something was wrong. They could even sense it, as the tension was thick in the air.

“Is something wrong?” Soojin asked as she entered the room. She looked around the room and offered me a sweet and innocent smile.

I wanted to lunge at her. It took everything in me to stand still.

“Let’s get started,” the director said as soon as his left foot touched the floor. He clapped his hands, getting everyone’s attention. He stopped at the center of the room. “Today we’re going to film a two-minute promotional video for our project. I count on you, Y/N, to make this video as appealing as all the other ones you made until now.” He winked at me. “Dancers, I expect you to be in good shape. I need you to accentuate your moves.” This time, he winked at Minho and Soojin.

I was close to rip my hair out.

We did as told. While the dancers gave their all in their dancing, I moved around them with my camera to capture their moves from different angles, creating a nice flow. Nowadays, videographers would use a gimbal to provide support and stabilization, but my camescope and feet were all I needed. This type of work called for a more natural flow, which could only be done without any device.

I knew how to be professional, too, but hated every second I spent filming the top dancers sensually touching each other’s bodies, especially from this close. The looks they gave one another, were they really only professional? I wasn’t sure Minho had ever looked at me like he was staring at Soojin at this moment.

I decided to put aside my anger for the sake of my job, and made the best promotional video yet. Not that I would ever admit it, but their chemistry was undeniable and greatly increased the quality of the video.

Slowly, but surely, I watched Minho and Soojin grow closer. I tried multiple times to reconnect with him to prevent the inevitable, but he was unyielding. He wouldn’t let me touch him and refused to be in a room alone with me. I found his reactions a bit over the top and insulting. But, even worse, he seemed to be protective of Soojin, as if he was scared I would hurt her if he let her out of his sight.

I would, but it was still vexing.

If you go and get yourself somebody new I don't know what the hell I'd do But if I found out, I will go and turn up at her house Break a nail and rip her hair right out Huh, and I hope you like that I'm crazy like that

Life went on, Minho still got me by the neck unbeknownst to him, and I was still wary of Soojin. A month had passed and a new project started.

“This time, crew, the theme is love. I want to feel it, alright? Do whatever it takes. I’m not worried though, because I believe in you all.”

The little speech the director gave ended up with a round of applause and a whistle from several of the dancers. The choreographers were sending each other smirks, as if they were waiting for this moment. I, obviously, loathed the idea. I had barely managed to contain myself this past month. That was going to be torture.

I was right.

The first official practice for the dance, a week after the announcement, I was behind the camera. If I thought they were close during the past month, I was mistaken. For the most part, their bodies were colliding with each other in a way that made the young managers embarrassed. My blood boiled. If there weren’t all these people around, I would’ve ripped Soojin’s hair out already.

When the song ended, their faces were mere millimeters from one another. They closed the gap between their mouths. I heard a few gasps from the crowd. My eyes lost focus. The fury building inside me sent a throbbing pain in my head. I left the room in a hurry before I could regret my actions. The last thing I saw in the long mirrors were their lips connected in a heated kiss.

I wanted to throw up. I ran to the restroom and sat on the ground in one of the cabins. I touched my cheeks with the back of my hands to check my temperature and realized I was crying. I couldn’t possibly be sad, could I? I stayed seated for what felt like hours, developing a plan to get revenge on Soojin. I was not going to let her go unscathed after what she had done.

The pain eventually subsided. Rage was all that was left in me. I was determined to make the bitch pay. I checked myself in the mirror, relieved to see there was no trace of me crying, and nodded to myself to give me courage. I came back to the dance room like nothing happened. Everybody stopped moving and watched me walk to my camera.

“Sorry, I had an emergency,” I told no one in particular, shooting an apologetic smile around the room. “Please, continue.”

I changed a few parameters on the camera and the room came back to life.

I was one of the first ones to leave the room. I stored my stuff in their respective places. Minho was waiting for me when I walked out of my studio.

“Y/N, I’m sorry—-It just happened—”

I scoffed. “Whatever.”

I'll do anything for you, boy, anything Yeah, I'll do anything, anything for you Yeah, I'll do crazy shit And I'll get away with it Boy, I'll do anything, anything for you

I raced to my car and waited there until Soojin entered her own car. I watched Minho go to her window and talk to her when she rolled it down. She nodded and smiled at him. Sickening. He went to his own car and I followed Soojin when she exited the parking lot. I stayed at a safe distance, but what if Minho knew what I had in mind and warned her?

I shook my head. It didn’t matter. She drove around fifteen minutes and parked in front of what looked like a family house. Was it her own place or did she come to her parents thinking I wouldn’t dare touch her there?

I smiled conspiratorially. None of them really knew me. I parked right behind her and stormed out of my car. I stopped at her window like Minho had done earlier and waited for her to roll it down. She stared at me with fear in her eyes and gulped.

I put on a fake smile and my sweetest voice. “Come on out, Soojin, don’t be scared.”

She slowly reached for the handle and opened the door.

“Look, I’m sor—”

I grabbed her by the neck and threw her on the asphalt. She grunted and rolled over. I pulled her hair up and ignored her faint struggle, whispering in her ear. “You really thought you could steal my boyfriend from me and get away with it?” I let out a nasty laugh.

She shuddered, tears welling up in her eyes. “You’re not together anymore,” she cried. “I’m sorry for hurting you. I didn’t mean to, I swear.”

“You’re too cute. I guess that’s your advantage.”

I pulled her hair a little higher and balled my other hand into a fist. I moved my arm back to gain momentum, but never got to use it. Minho shouted my name from his car, parked right behind mine. I let go of Soojin and watched him dash towards us.

“What’s happening?”

He kneeled next to her, checking her face and scratched arms. She cried, burying her face in his chest and wrapping her arms around his stomach. I huffed and folded my arms over my chest. The second she calmed down, Minho got up and faced me. He frowned.

“What did you do?” His tone was accusing. It angered me.

“Are you for real? How could you get over me that easily? Was I nothing to you?”

“Y/N,” he warned, pinching his nose bridge. Then he gave me a firm stare. “I’m sorry I hurt you. I never meant to. I just assumed you got over it the way I did.” His voice matched the look on his face.

Got over it? Oh, boy.

“I guess I loved you more than you ever did me.”

His surprised expression made no sense to me. He did not comment on it. Instead, he reached for Soojin’s hand and helped her up. “I’ll get you home,” he said softly.

He used to talk to me like that. Take care of me like that. My blood boiled but I just watched, feeling abandoned, as they walked away from me.

When he returned, a few minutes later, I was waiting, my back pressed against the driver’s side door of my car. “What was that about?” he inquired, stopping around three meters away from me, arms crossed over his chest.

“I’ll do anything for you, Minho. Anything. And I got angry at the way she snatched you from me.”

He stepped back, dropping his arms at his sides. “What do you mean, anything?”

“Literally anything.”

“But, Y/N, we broke up. You don’t have to. Besides, she didn’t snatch me, I fell for her.” My heart hurt. Did he really stop loving me that easily? “I’m sorry. Really, I am. I can’t undone our history, nor can I control my feelings.”

“You would undone our history if you could?” That was what hurt the most, I think. That, right there. He regretted being with me.

“No, but what you did today… I’m not sure I can forgive you. You scared Soojin, you scared me. If I knew you would be like this, I—”

“Don’t finish that sentence, please.”

Minho sighed. “I enjoyed being with you, Y/N, honestly. However, that was too much. I won’t ask you to quit your job, but can you please, leave Soojin and I alone? I feel like a dick asking you, especially since you’ll have to watch us a lot, and I also don’t want to quit this amazing company.”

“I’ll do it,” I breathed. A single tear ran down my face. “I’ll quit. I can’t stand by and watch you both all lovey-dovey. And I don’t want to hurt you. I’m sorry.”

It was my fault. I planted the seed of desire in Minho’s head, and my jealousy nourished it. The plant grew and he fell in love with her. I should've known. He never explicitly told me he loved me.

Minho reached for me and for a second, I was tempted to just let him, but that would've been wrong. I wasn’t sure I could leave if he showed me affection. I turned around and hopped in my car.

“Have a good life,” were my last words to my beautiful ex boyfriend before I took off.

The next day, I gave my resignation letter to my boss, and apologized a ton for leaving so suddenly. I pretended to have an urgent family matter hundreds of kilometers away, and moved out during the week. I wanted to put as much distance between Minho and me as possible to help me forget about him. It wasn’t an easy feat. But I moved into a small apartment in another city, got a job in a dancing company named “Encore Dance” and resumed my life.

There, I met a man so pretty I could cry.

Hwang Hyunjin.

Have you seen this man?

thanks for reading! feedback is always appreciated :) masterlist

[autistichalsin]

If you were Halsin’s writer (which you pretty much are for the fandom girlies) what’s a scenario/memory that he would have found himself in as a younger elf? Either a kiddo, or a cynical 150yo or right after the Shadow Curse began

care to throw together a bit of lore? 🙌🏼

YOU GUYS. You guys have to stop saying things that make me blush and kick my feet like this!!!! <333333

Hmm. So based on the ask I'm guessing you're wanting something angsty? I'm not sure how detailed I can think of on the fly without writing an entire fic, but here's how I see his little arc with outgrowing cynicism:

His descent definitely started with losing his family*. They were kind. They were loving. They taught him everything about nature. His older brothers always put up with him chasing after, and once his younger sisters arrived, they were glued to his side, always demanding stories and games, and he always pretended to be annoyed but secretly loved it. They were everything to him and he had to watch as, one by one, they got sick and died, or in two instances, had tragic accidents. Yes, he found the Druids soon after, but it didn't change that he was the only Silverbough left, the last of an ancient line of elves and they weren't there.(This was also his first brush with survivor guilt. Why him and not the oldest brother, or the youngest sister?)

Getting abducted as a young Druid was another catalyst. It took the pain of grief and survivor guilt and added something else. He knew cruelty- even wood elves weren't immune, let alone the Grove. And he'd certainly heard stories about the Drow, their raids of surface elf communities and the sadism of Lolth followers. But there was cruelty, and then there was cruelty. The kind of depravity that caused him to see decorations that were once elves, that caused him to be constantly degraded and mocked and used. (Not coincidentally, this brush with cynicism was marred with survivor guilt; the two are linked VERY closely for him.) It was one thing to lose his family to tragic twists of fate, but to see so much murder, to experience the pain of rape and abuse, was something else entirely.

That shook his faith for the longest time in the redeemability of sentient beings; it was years before he'd leave wildshape for anything not strictly necessary. It was then that he started thinking of himself more as a bear than as an elf. Bears weren't good or evil. They just were. And that was his refuge for years until he was ready to be a person again. A very cynical person, bitter but also unfailingly kind. The person who would say the world is an awful, doomed place while still doing everything in his power to make it less so for the people he cared for.

What caused him to break free? No one thing, but many things. Thaniel's continued friendship. Helping a sick, tired human deliver a baby. Rescuing a bear cub from a poacher and gaining a friendship that rested the rest of the bear's long, spoiled life. The quiet "I'm so proud of you, you'll go so far"s from the previous Archdruid as Halsin rose through the ranks at the Grove and became an unparalleled healer. The lovers he found through the years, never lasting long, but always full of warmth and intensity. Gaining the courage to start adventuring again, to the Nelanther Isles, to communities of other wood elves, and always learning something worthwhile. His books, even if his heart wasn't truly with scholarly pursuits, providing him the knowledge he couldn't always find in the real world. Finding a new, steady place for himself in the world, and growing strong on his own- and strong enough, like a sturdy oak, to provide shelter and protection for those he cared for. The more distance he put between himself and his captivity, the stronger he became. (Unfortunately, the distance also caused him to downplay the trauma increasingly; he opened up to few, deliberately, and with no one to remind him it was okay to have his feelings, he started displacing them.)

The Shadow Curse nearly caused him to relapse back into it. The combination of loss and fear and the addiction spiral he nearly fell into with the honey mead were a perfect storm. But by then, at 250 years old, Halsin knew himself well enough to see himself sinking, and he didn't want to be where he was back then. He still felt the pain. But the thing is that cynicism and optimism don't always have to be diametrically opposed. They both combine to form the basis for realism. Optimism is choosing to believe the best, pessimism is choosing the believe the worst, and realism is choosing to look at the two extremes and conclude the likeliest outcome is somewhere between them. And that was the approach Halsin took. Rather than writing the world off as a hopeless place, he acknowledged the suffering, then sought off in search of what he could change.

There is a note you can find in the game where he laments the Emerald Enclave refused to send help for the Curse, but adds that he would continue to try, and he might not have to face the darkness alone. That very much sums up Halsin's approach, even as he was hurting (to the point that some of his after-the-fact descriptions to the player sound remarkably like he was suffering clinical depression). Feel the pain, but hold on, because better is coming; wait through the Curse, because you will break it one day; hold on in the goblin pens, because you will be rescued; hold on in the Drow nobles' chamber, because your moment to escape will come. Halsin is remarkably strong and able to endure a lot of darkness as long as he doesn't lose sight of light at the end, and that's how he stopped from sliding into cynicism again after the Shadow Curse.

*I once had a headcanon that Halsin learned about his family's passing after the Underdark, but now I'm not so sure, especially since we know now it wasn't all at once. I definitely can see it, but I can also easily see him losing them before; it would explain his lack of fear venturing into the Underdark alone, I think. So for this post I went with that.

Not sure if this was what you were wanting, but I hope it was close, anyway!

[growup-thatbeautiful]

come what may

Word Count: 1.8k

Tags: Tangerine x you, Tangerine x Reader, Bullet Proof Universe, Pre-Bullet Proof, Proposal Fic, Romance, Fluff, Cursing

Taglist: @venusthepirate @shadows-of-nyx @syd-vixious @thefloatingpickle @sallyp-53 @fictionalcomforts @s-haa @the-bisaster @phoenixhits @wee-little-mouse @cupofstarss @eefos @slut-f0r-u

Summary: When Tangerine proposed before things went wrong. It is not necessary to have read Bullet Proof, which this is a prequel to and can be found linked in my masterlist.

A/n: hi guys! i love this couple so much, i just wanted to write a short little backstory for them :) more to come in the future. please please please send in requests for them, i would love to hear what y'all want

Bullet Train Masterlist

Masterlist

~*~

The low hum of Tangerine’s record player fills your flat, some jazz album that you haven’t learned the name of. He’s in the other room on the couch, blowing smoke up into the air.

If you were in a nicer place, you would care about the smell of it sinking into the walls and the furniture, but there’s not much you two have left to ruin here. It’s a shithole, with leaky faucets and fault smoke detectors, but you’ve lived here with him for three years, and you can’t seem to make yourself leave when you have no reason to. It’s only recently that moving out has even been an option, though. Money, before now, had usually not been in abundance. That all changed when Lemon and Tangerine started taking bigger jobs, getting more recognition. Things, somehow, are looking up.

“Tan, what are you doing? We’re supposed to be leaving in a few minutes. Lemon’s waiting,” you call from the bathroom, putting on your earrings and finishing your makeup. Finally, you put on your heels, armed with a holster on your thigh underneath your silky black dress. The gold accent of your jewelry glints, even in the stale bathroom lighting.

“Fucking hell,” he sighs. “You look like an angel, love.”

“I’m very far from an angel,” you laugh. He knows very well that you have blood in your past, just like he does. “Are you ready to go?”

“What?” he asks, his head cocked to the side.

“We’re supposed to be meeting Lemon for dinner,” you remind him, walking over to the kitchen where your purse is. “It’s on the calendar.”

“Goddammit. I made other plans,” Tangerine groans, throwing his head back against he couch, but there’s a glint in his eye that you recognize as scheming. “Why don’t we tell Lemon we’ll meet him at a later date?”

“You’re up to something.” He looks at you while he goes to the record player and carefully takes the record off of the player. The dark black of his suit matches your dress, as does the gold of his earrings and rings. It wasn’t on purpose, at least on your part, but it’s endearing.

“Me? Never.” His cheeky smile melts you, like it always does, and the way he stands up and walks towards you slowly, his hands fixing his shirt cuffs and twisting his rings, doesn’t hurt either. “I’m an open fucking book.”

“You didn’t forget,” you say slowly. “What are you up to, then? Come on, out with it.”

“And ruin all the fun? No fucking way.” The grin on his face is full and his eyebrows are raised, asking you to trust him. You do, of course. One of his hands slides across your waist and the other reaches for his coat as he herds you out the door.

“Fine, but you’re the one who’s going to tell Lemon.” You look over at Tangerine to see him grinning and looking sideways at you. “He already knows, doesn’t he.”

“There were never any plans,” Tangerine explains, laughing when you lightly slap his arm and shoulder him.

“Fucking twat,” you accuse. “You could have just told me.”

“Probably,” he agrees. “But I didn’t want you to know because then you would ask questions.”

“Said like a true serial killer.” You lock the door behind you and Tangerine, with his hand still on your back, leads you to the elevator. The night air is cool against your skin, but Tangerine keeps you warm with his arm around your shoulders. Your street is lively in the nighttime, with laughing families and couples like you, and the moon lights up the cobblestones underneath your feet.

The car ride there is in the back of a black cab that smells like cigarette smoke, and Tangerine’s hands don’t leave you the whole time., whether they’re resting on your thighs, holding your hand, or skating along your arms.

At some point, Tangerine makes you close your eyes, which lasts a few seconds before you can’t take it and open them. With a sigh, Tangerine leads your head into his neck and you rest it there. “Come on, love, just rest here, yeah?”

It isn’t much longer before the cab pulls to a stop, and Tangerine helps you out of the car. It’s much darker, wherever you are, and you’re surprised to feel dewy grass underneath your shoes. There’s a short man standing off to the side, wearing a bowler hat and a bright green shirt. “You’re late,” the man notes, his head cocked to the side with his hands crossed in front of him. “I should give your spot to someone else.”

“Oh, come off it, yeah? I’m here now, that’s all that matters,” Tangerine says to the man, looking over at you before pulling the man aside and whispering animatedly with him. You know him well enough to know that he’s probably threatening the man in various, creative ways.

Finally, he looks at you and waves you toward him. “Come on, love.”

“Are you sure you aren’t going to murder me here?” you ask, motioning at the still-black night around you. “This feels very murdery.”

“If I was, I wouldn't fucking tell you, now would I? Just trust me, this is going to be worth it.”

“You could have at least told me not to wear these shoes,” you complain, wobbling as you step through the grass and dirt.

“Give them here.” Tangerine holds out his hand and you hold it while you slip your shoes off your feet. When you’re done, he takes them, holding them in the hand that isn’t holding onto yours. “It’s not much further.”

“Thanks,” you say absentmindedly, looking at the stars. You don’t see them a lot, from your place in London, so anytime you can, it’s hard to take your eyes off them. You know Tan’s not the same; he grew up, at least briefly, in a place where he could see stars all the time, and they never helped him out, as he says.

He says they’re cold and far away, unlike you. You’re prettier than them, and you glow brighter than they ever will. According to him.

You come to a clearing, barely lit by the moon hanging big and pale above you. The bell-like sound of a stream is somewhere nearby, accompanied by a symphony of nighttime insects. Tangerine is sure with his footing, leading you towards some point you don’t know. His sharp profile is illuminated, accented by the moon’s silver glow, his earring glinting. He looks like some otherworldly being, an ethereal creation of someone’s perfect image.

“Watch your step, love,” he says, holding your hand tightly as he leads you onto a rocky path. With his other hand, he turns you to face him, your hands resting on the material of his suit. Tangerine reaches in his pocket and draws out a small remote, pressing a button. Your setting is revealed to you in a flash of lights hanging above you.

The bridge you’re standing on, what you thought was the stone path, is mossy and covered with string lights, the night around you starry and quiet. There are colorful wildflowers surrounding you, and a little creek underneath you, all looking like they’re out of some fairy tale book. Iridescent green fireflies come alive, like Tangerine controls them too, floating around you and swaying with the wind.

“Oh my god,” you exhale, mostly because you don’t know what else to say. “Where did you find this place?”

You don’t need to be able to see him clearly to see the smirk on his face, however tinged with adoration it is for you. “A gentleman never reveals, darling.”

The only response he gets from you is a hum in agreement as you take in your surroundings. You find yourself, however, unable to tear your eyes away from the man in front of you for more than a few seconds before you're drawn back to the way the lights reflect in his eyes and the creases at his eyes when he smiles at you. You don’t think he had those before.

When your eyes have settled in him at last, Tangerine takes a deep breath “You’ve been with me through my hardest times when Lemon and I were just two kids trying to figure it out on our own. You stood by my side when we figured this out, how we were going to do this, and there isn’t anything that will ever change the way I feel about you.” Tangerine takes your hand and kisses your knuckles before kneeling down on the ground.

“Tan,” you whisper, your voice unsteady and weak. It’s not like you to be this caught off guard, but he’s always had a way to find your cracks.

“Love, there isn’t anyone else in the world I want to be with as much as I want to be with you. So, I thought to myself, why not make it official?”

“Are you- is this actually happening?” you ask, a hand coming up to cover your mouth as tears come to your eyes. “You better not be fucking joking.”

“I’m not, love. Can I ask the question now?” His cheekiness makes you laugh, an ugly, wet laugh that makes him grin wider.

“Yes,” you choke out. “Fucking ask me.”

“So demanding,” he chides without malice. “Will you marry me?”

You can’t get an answer out before you’re on your knees with him, arms around his neck, fingers twisting into his hair.

“I take that as a yes, then?” he asks into your ear, a

like against your hair. His arms are strong around you, holding you up and holding you down to reality.

“Yes,” you grin. “Yes.”

Carefully, Tangerine takes the signet ring off his pinky finger and puts it on your ring finger. The golden band is set with a plain black stone, smooth and shiny. You think it’s one of the ones he’s stolen, maybe from an art museum or some fancy jewelry store. Either way, you’ve never known him without it. It’s not a perfect fit, but you’d rather have something of his than anything else. You can always get it adjusted.

You keep your hand in his and sit back against the stone of the bridge, his shoulder up against yours. Automatically, your head finds its home on his shoulder, and he leans his on top of yours, a puzzle that fits together perfectly.

Right now, it doesn’t matter that your dress is getting dirty and the stone is cold, or that it’s dark and you’re unprotected. All that matters are the million more seconds you have with Tangerine, the fights and the makeups, the happy moments and the sad ones. You can see your future through a hazy glass window: sleeping next to him and waking up with him, cooking in the kitchen and eating on the floor, your child, whoever they may be, laughing with his curls in between you. It’s so stunningly clear and so uncertain, but it fills you with absolute joy.

You’ll tell Lemon tomorrow, and you’ll figure out the details at some point. Right now, you’re content to sit her with the love of your life and watch the night unfurl around you, his warmth steadfast by your side.

[jensenackleswifey]

Don’t Ever Let Me Go

Supernatural Fic

Summary: While hunting a Crocotta, you discover someone is alive who should've died 10 years ago.

Notes: Blood, violence, gore, death, anxiety, angst (?), italics are thoughts about the past

"I think it's a Crocotta." Sam says from the seat next to me. "The phone calls from their loved ones before their deaths even though the victims’ families claim they didn’t... it’s the only obvious option."

Dean and I agree as Sam's phone rings.

"Agent Stiles."

I can hear a slight murmur over the phone, but I can't quite make out what is being said to Sam.

"Mhm... Yes, we'll be right there... Alright, thank you."

As soon as the beep of the disconnect is heard Sam announces that there has been another murder.

We all get in the Impala and head towards the latest crime scene to talk to the witness.

As we get there the body is getting wheeled into the coroners’ van and Dean stops it to check the deceased as Sam and I go up to the Sherriff

"Victims name is Lily Moonarch. She just dropped dead, same as the rest of them."

Sam replies, "Interesting. Any ideas yet?"

"Fourth victim and we're still stumped."

"You said there was a suspect?" I questioned as Dean rejoined the group.

"Yes, she was on the phone to the victim when she died." Dean and I shared a look, thinking back on what Sam had said back at out motel. "It's our only lead so we think she might have something to do with it."

"Okay well what's the suspects name, we'll head over first before you guys if that’s alright?" I ask at the same time as Sam appears at my side.

"Yes of course, her name is Phoebe Y/L/N"

Both Sam and Dean look at me wearily and I feel my stomach drop and my heart goes to my throat.

Sam is asking for her address, but my ears are ringing and everything seems muffled. I can barely breathe, and I can hardly feel Deans hand linked with mine, dragging me away back to the car.

Phoebe Y/L/N. Phoebe. Pheebs. My younger sister. My younger sister who died over 10 years ago when a demon killed my entire family while I was on a playdate. She was only 6 and I was 12.

"Mum! Dad! I'm home!" I yelled as I walked in through the large white door.

I heard no response, so I yelled out again but still, no one responded.

'Maybe they're asleep' I think to myself, so I walk up the stairs, but I stopped dead in my tracks when I see a bloody, red handprint smeared on the door of my parents’ bedroom.

"Mum?" I say anxiously awaiting her response.

I didn’t hear anything, so I push her door open very carefully. The scene before me is something no 12-year-old should see. Her parents dead on the bed in a pool of blood. A knife in her dad’s abdomen with his own hand wrapped around it. Her mothers throat slit. Blood splashed all over the room, the stench making me want to throw up. With tears streaming down my face I run out the bedroom and into my sister’s room, but I was too late to her as well. As I step in their room, a man is standing over her tiny bed with these hands around her neck, choking her. When the man looks over at me, he smirks, and slowly walks over to me, his eyes glowing red and he slams the door shut with just his mind.

"What are you doing here you sweet, sweet child?"

His smirk grows wider and so do my eyes as he continues making his way to me, but I can’t move. It's like I'm stuck in the mud, no matter how hard I try I just can’t move.

As I've accepted the fact that I can't go anywhere, that this is the end the door bursts open again, and a tall figure stands in the door, and I hear a shot.

"It's going to take a lot more than that to kill me, John." He drags out the man’s name, almost like he shouldn’t know what his name is but does anyway.

The man screams but no sound comes out, all that does come out is a long line of black smoke. The man- John, picks me up and runs outside and puts me in the car next to another boy who looks around my age and he runs back inside which I later found out was to double check that my family is in fact dead.

"Hi, I'm Dean and this is my brother Sam." Says the boy in the front seat.

"Y/N" I say through sobs.

"Y/N, Y/N, Y/N"

I jump up from the back of the same Impala I was in those 10 years ago.

Sam is looking over at me from the front seat and Dean is looking down at me on his lap with a worried look.

"We're 5 minutes away from Phoebes house."

I just look at him and give a late responded nod.

You can tell that the brothers are worried about me by the way they keep looking at me every couple of seconds.

When we pull up, I'm frozen in place, just like that night a decade ago but this time I have the help to pull me out of my trance. Dean puts his hand on my thigh.

"Y/N... Sam and I can do this on our own if you'd like? You can stay in here and-"

"No. I want to come. I need to see if it’s actually her." I interrupt.

"Okay."

We get out of the car, and I adjust my pants and suit jacket and wipe off the remaining mascara on my face and smile at the two brothers in front of me.

"Let's go."

As we're walking up the stairs in silence my mind is running wild with thoughts of what could happen. What is she's a vampire? What if it's someone else just with the same name? What if she doesn’t know who I am? I try to keep my heart rate normal and my breaths even but the longer we walk up these stairs the more worried thoughts are running through my mind.

When we get there both the boys give me a questioning look and I nod.

Sam knocks on the door, "FBI open up."

Phoebe opens the door.

"Is this about Lily?"

I stand there shocked, and Dean subtly holds my hand.

Before I can stop myself, I blurt out. "Pheebs?"

She finally makes eye contact with me, confused.

"No-one has called me that in years."

Sam puts his hand on my shoulder as a warning to stop and slow it down.

"It’s me Phoebe. Its Y/N."

"That can't be possible. The real Y/N died 10 years ago.”

"We were told you died 10 years ago." Dean told her.

"How about you come inside."

We all go inside, and Phoebe makes us all a tea and I pretend to not notice the holy water she boils for the drinks, and I sit down on her grey sofa in between Sam and Dean.

We sit in a semi-awkward silence until Phoebe hands us our holy tea and waits for us to drink it before continuing the conversation.

When there is no reaction to the holy water, a look of relief washed over her face.

"How are you alive?" Dean asked, almost accusatory.

Phoebe looked taken aback as she answered "I don't know. Just one day I woke up in my childhood home, cops everywhere. They told me my whole family were killed and my sister was missing, presumed dead. I went into a foster home and as soon as I hit 18, I moved in with Lily."

"So you have no idea how you go bought back?" Sam asked, sounding more sympathetic than his older brother did.

"Maybe she never died to begin with?" Dean suggested.

"But she couldn't have. I watched her die and John went and confirmed that they were both dead." I still remember the feeling of watching my baby sister die and never getting answers for it. Why did it happen? Who did it? I'll never get those answers, but it doesn’t matter anymore because my little Phoebe is alive.

"What about Lily?" She said, tears returning to her eyes. "Is it something supernatural? Is that why you’re here?"

"We think so." Sam replied.

I zone everything out after that. Looking around her little apartment. Her cat and the detailed drawings on the walls, she always was a good drawer, and the pink accents in her decor, pink is still her favourite colour. Everything is so normal compared to what I was expecting. I think I was expecting her to be a lot like me. A hunter trying to find out what happened all those years ago but she somehow managed to not get involved in this life and hopefully we can keep it that way by not getting her too involved in this job.

"Thank you for your time, Phoebe, we should get going." Dean says, putting his hand back on my thigh.

Sam and Dean stand up as I sit still, watching Phoebe.

Dean holds his hand out to me, and I accept it, getting to my feet and giving Phoebe a tight-lipped smile, still holding Deans hand hard.

"If you notice anything else strange, don't hesitate to call us," Dean hands her his FBI card. "We will call you with any updates as well."

"Thank you, guys."

As we're all walking out the door, I feel a cold hand grab by arm, and I turn around.

"It's good to see you again." Phoebe says and she pulls me into a tight embrace as I drop Deans hand. "I wanted to give you my number, maybe we can try and get to know each other properly."

"Of course, I would love that Pheebs."

A single tear falls from her eyes as I hug her again, never wanting to let go.

This could have a part 2 possibly

[silentcrowsilentravens]

A Gentle, Well-Deserved Quiet

The Charlotte Deshayes x reader tag is barren, you guys. Since I have a massive crush on her and run an x reader blog, I figured it was my civic duty to contribute some fic content.

Summary: Few traverse the path near your home. In fact, outside of your very rare treks to the nearest market, it's been years since you've seen another person. It's just you and the animals.

But the cries that startled you awake tonight... they are most certainly not animals.

Chapter 1 of 6

(Gender ambiguous).

Warnings: violence, injury, blood.

Additional notes: takes place outside of the fog in France, Victor didn't die when escaping the Black Cloaks with Charlotte, and I love both of them very much <3

Ao3 link here!

For quite a few years, it's just been you, the animals, and the house left behind by your family. It can get rather lonely, but you would never dream of abandoning this place. It was built by your grandparents after they ran off together.

Your grandfather... When your grandmother fell for him, she was met with nothing but vitriol from her family and others. Everyone viewed him as a monster, but he was simply a man.

Fueled by an immense love for each other and fear for their safety, they vanished together in the dead of night. They found a place where others rarely trek and over time, built their home.

As the years passed, your uncle and mother were born.

Your mother met your father during one of your family's rare journeys to the nearest market. He noticed her stealing something they needed from one of the vendor's stalls.

Now, all this time later, you're here and everyone else is gone. Dead.

Things are quiet.

You try to go about your days like you used to.

They feel so much longer now, you think. Today especially. You head to bed earlier than usual.

Things are quiet.

But then, suddenly, they aren't.

The cries are loud. The screams are primal. You wake from slumber with a start, the noises rattling you to your core the moment you're awake enough to process them.

These are not the general sounds of nature that you are used to. These are human. And they are far too close.

You crack open one of your rickety shutters. In the darkness, almost nothing can be made out.

"Monster!"

You were taught to keep your head low. You do not want to draw attention to yourself.

...But there are always exceptions to that rule, and these are easily the most gut-wrenching sounds to have ever reached your ears.

"Leave us alone! Don't touch him!"

You throw on your weathered boots, seize your pitchfork, and step out into the night, following the noises into the forest.

A woman barrels out of the undergrowth and into a small clearing. You press yourself up against a tree.

A man chases after her, pausing to draw his bow.

An arrow slams into the back of the woman's calf. She collapses with a muted cry, her own weapon slipping from her grasp.

The man nocks another arrow and begins to close the distance between them. She scrambles to pick her blade back up.

You remain unnoticed.

There isn't much time to make a decision here.

You quickly step out from behind your hiding place. With your heart pounding in your ears, you raise your pitchfork and swing it with all your might.

The flat side of the iron prongs strike the man's head. He didn't even have the chance to turn and look at you.

He hits the ground roughly. After a moment, he begins to move again, so you panic and hit him once more. He stills completely, a big crimson spot staining the crown of his head.

You turn your attention towards the woman. Even ignoring the arrow sticking out of her leg, she appears to be badly injured. Her breathing is ragged. With half-lidded eyes, she stares up at you, an arm held protectively in front of the right side of her chest.

It is only now that you realize that there are three people, not two. A second, smaller body is protruding from hers, hanging limp.

As you take a hesitant step closer, she makes a clumsy swing with her battered sickle and levels it at you. The blade wavers in her grasp.

"I mean no harm." You lower your pitchfork.

She says nothing.

Her grip loosens on the sickle.

She slips into unconsciousness.

It isn't until well into the next day that the woman, Charlotte, comes to.

She's surprised that she's still alive. Her body aches like nothing else. Last night's events are somewhat hazy, but she can remember how visceral the fear was. She recalls how intensely she had been shaking and the all too familiar taste of blood in her mouth.

Her brother's hand wouldn't leave her shoulder.

Their pursuer... so cruel. Same as everybody else. His figure is vague in her mind's eye, but she could easily picture him swathed in a black cloak. Even if he hadn't been. They had managed to lose his friends, but he...

He...

Charlotte hadn't gotten away from him, had she? She couldn't. She couldn't continue to push past the pain...

So, what happened? Where are they now?

She's almost afraid to open her eyes, but she knows that she needs to.

There's a soot-coated thatch roof above her and a mattress beneath her. She can't remember the last time she woke up in an actual bed. It must have been back when Maman when still alive.

Where are they?

How's Victor?

He isn't awake, but he is alive and...

His wounds have been dressed. Hers have as well. With what seems to be quite a bit of care, too.

"Good morning," a voice greets.

Charlotte quickly sits up, wincing as a sharp pain flares across her side.

A person is sitting at one of six stools situated around the fire pit in the middle of the floor, stirring something in a pot suspended above the flames. It is only now that she takes notice of the enticing smell of food mixed with the rich scent of burning wood.

"How are you fairing?"

Charlotte doesn't respond. She eyes you warily. "Who are you?"

You turn halfway on your seat to face her. You aren't one of those awful people who chased them, at least. You tell her your name.

"Where are we?"

"My home," you reply simply. "The two of you were in quite a state when I found you."

A dark figure wielding a pitchfork flashes through her mind. There's a wet thud as the final pursuer falls to the ground. You came to their aid.

This is strange. It's all so strange.

"...Why did you help us?"

"Because I didn't want you to die."

Why? It seems like everyone they cross paths with wants them dead. Is this a trick? Where's her sickle?

It sits not too far from the bed. The rest of her things seem to be there, too. If need be, she could easily grab it.

You stand. "Are you hungry?" You can feel the woman's pale eyes trained on you as you spoon a generous amount of stew into two bowls, leaving a third one out for when your second guest wakes. You hold a bowl out towards the woman.

She leans away for you, bringing an arm up in front of her chest while her hand not so subtly inches closer to her weapon.

"I'm not going to try anything," you try to assure. "Here."

A moment passes. A few moments.

Slowly, she relaxes slightly and takes the bowl from you. She doesn't eat, though. Just holds it and continues to stare at you.

"Try it. It's quite good." You pick up your own portion and hook a foot around the leg of your stool, pulling it closer so that you can sit in front of her. "I haven't poisoned it or anything, either. See?" You take a sip from your bowl.

Charlotte is tempted. She is quite hungry. Plus, you're eating it. She follows suit and drinks a small bit of the broth. It's the best thing she's had in quite a while. She'll make sure to save half of it for Victor.

"What should I call you?"

"...Charlotte."

"And him?"

That protective arm instinctively raises up in front of him again. "My brother, Victor."

"Charlotte and Victor." You set your bowl down on your lap. "You're the first visitors I've had in quite a long time, you know. Not many people find their way out here. The path is too treacherous."

"A group of hunters had been chasing us for a long time. I thought we might finally lose them on it."

"A group?"

"We needed to make a quick stop in their village for supplies... We weren't welcome there."

"Well, you're welcome here."

[cat-buried-in-tall-grass]

ALRIGHT. SPILL EVERYTHING SILVER. I NEED TO KNOWWWWW (and if he has a masterpost that i just. failed to see. link me that right meow)

what agent number is he !! what does he look like !! does he have proper kitty features (other than his REALLY swag claws) !! how tall is he !! is he a radiant ? (if so what are his abilities !!!) whats his overall ~vibe~

omg..... i think he wld get along with pua SO WELL. HE AND NEON AND PUA THE ULTIMATE TRIO !!!! i wonder if he wld get along with shizuka and poeiva too 👀👀 (shizuka being grimshaw's assistant/apprentice and poeiva being chamber's partner and buddies with fade)

i think this may be one of the first times our ocs have directly interacted SO I AM SOOOOO STOKED AND I NEED TO KNOW EVERYTHING ABT HIM SO THEY CAN BE FRIENDSSSSS (sorry for all the questions 😭😭)

ASNLKDJFCB OKAY,,,,,,,, no masterpost yet cause i'm Shy:tm: and not everything is fully set in stone yet

agent number is 31, which in numerology is asociated with originality and practicality. it can still change tho i'm. unsure. appearance wise he uh. i'm putting this utc don't wanna make it too long on the dash

his ears are PUNCHED w metal, both of em. his eyes are (nowadays) yellowish orange, and glow proper orange when using his abilities. color pallete is sth along these lines, and the most distinctive aspect of his outfit beyond his big fuckoff metal claws is that he wears a (somewhat cropped) hoodie that's oversized and a lil puffed up to cover up the wiring and metal strapped to him underneath it, which he uses to charge up his claws.

he doesn't have kitty features i'm afraid but he DOES have a kitty ears hoodie. it's his warmest, comfiest hoodie. his bestest hoodie. at heart he's a lynx. he's 179cm/5'8'' tall, and he IS a radiant, through prolonged exposure to radianite. radiation. lol. bit more lore of that can be found on this unfinished lore fic omg don't look at me.

his ability is metallokinesis, he controls all kinds of metal, but it's not exactly metalbending.

the "emp thing" is what's for now his ult. he digs his claws into one of his bombs while they're charged with electricity and throws it ahead to clear an area of traps and stuff. DON'T ASK ABT ANYTHING ELSE THO I NEED TO STUDY A LIL MORE TO MAKE THAT,,,,,,,

PERSONALITY. silver's like a cat in the sense that if he likes you he's really chill and nice and charismatic. and if he dislikes you he's probably two shitty comments away from slashing your throat. BIG hatred for corpos and authority thanks to his bg, really big on Justice and Retribuition, but it's skewed by his own personal experiences and attachments. the line between justice and revenge gets blurred. but when he's chill he's SO chill. literally a buddy. loves metalworking and general crafts, he made his claws and bombs out of literal scrap. big fan of card and tabletop games. has a soft spot for kids. loves himself someone who can match his vibe.

he's adopting shizuka as a SISTER tyvm, you got my back and i got yours kinda deal, a lil bickering but if anything happens to her he's jumping out and biting. poeiva. well. anyone who associates w chamber closely is on The Shitlist i'm afraid. buddies w fade tho? that means straight up "hm" territory

god that's a lot of stuff BUT HE'S SOOOOOO WILLING TO BE BUDDIES,,,,,,, I WANT THEM TO BE FRIENDS 🥺 LET THEM INTERACT....... HOLDING HIM UP TO YOU. HE'S J A SILLY LIL GUY WHO WANTS TO DO ARTS AND CRAFTS.

[stories-from-the-shaded-moon]

Trusty Arrow

Part 2 of my Super Smash Bros Ultimate Fic!

Link felt the soreness in his bones. He knew something as simple as a throw would kill him. The way his body tinted a scarlet red told him.

He was not going to lose his first fight since being back. Especially not to the guy who called him “Kiwi”.

He threw his boomerang and jumped into the air. The boomerang immobilized Roy for only a second, which was long enough for Link the plunge down, sword first.

But Roy regained himself quickly, dodging his blade with that white blinking light. Link groaned, dodging Roy’s own flame guided attack before turning into a spin attack. Only the last spin hit, but it sent Roy flying.

Link dashed forward and pulled out his bow. He didn’t want to risk trying to spike Roy. If he failed, it could be what makes him lose.

Link drew his arrow, the tip of it glowing with flames. He watched Roy with the eye of an owl. And when it felt right, he released it.

And it shot true.

Roy let out a squeal as the fire hit his body. He was shot up into the sky and Link dashed to him. He jumped and, with one swing of his blade upward, red veins formed around Roy.

“Game!” Link’s body moved in slow motion for only a second before he was teleported to a field with some sort of castle in the distance.

He sheathed his sword and put away his shield. Then he dusted off his hands and put his hands on his hips with a satisfied huff. Then his vision went black.

~~~

When his vision came back, his body felt exactly how it did when he first arrived on that tower.

A smile found his face for, like, the fourth time that day. He knew this place. It was SBHQ.

A second later, Roy spawned from a ray of light. He was no longer tinted scarlet red nor was he smoking. Roy caught his eye and sent him a thumbs up. Link gave him one too. Roy nodded and walked forward. There, on a huge door, was a symbol Link couldn't forget no matter how simple it was. It was just a circle with an upside down lowercase T cut into it.

“It’s been a while, I will say,” Roy nearly whispered, looking upon the symbol with light eyes. “You ready?”

“As I’ll ever be,” Link said, placing his hand on the door. Half of the symbol lit up bright green.

Roy chuckled. “Still as nimble as you once were, huh, Kiwi?” Roy placed his hand on the door. The second half of it lit up vermillion red.

The door rumbled as it opened wider and wider.

Link could name everyone he saw as all of their heads turned towards him and Roy.

His eyes caught Pit’s form first, his wings being such a pale white it was like trying to look at the sun. His toga, as Pit called it, wasn’t new. But then again, nor was his own green tunic. The golden wreath sat atop his brunette hair like a crown of a prince.

Beside Pit was the Blue Blur himself. His royal blue fur, Link guessed it was, was as pristine as ever. It nearly shined. And his eyes were still probably as big as Link’s head.

Then he met eyes with…him, he supposed. “Outset!” Link made a mad dash.

“Kokiri!” They embraced each other tightly. Though, Outset was a little shorter than Link, or Kokiri, was.

“Where’s Ordon?” Kokiri looked around for his darker green tuniced friend. Outset sucked in a breath.

“Well, y’see,” Outset motioned to the teenager next to them. He had a blue tunic with a sword embroidered on the collar.

He wielded the Hylian shield…and the Master Sword.

“That’s not…?” Link pointed at him. Outset sighed.

“It’s not, but you did say that you once fought alongside your…older but younger self, right?”

“Yeah, but Ordon-“

“Replaced him, right?”

Link’s shoulders deflated with the realization. “Oh. Well, damn.”

“But, this is…?” Outset looked to the boy for an answer.

“You can call me Arrow I guess?” He was soft spoken, like he was scared. He rubbed his forearm and looked away.

Ah. Trauma, definitely.

“Why Arrow?” Kokiri dared to ask.

“Well, I have one really strong arrow. That guy over there, Captain Falcon, told me that it was my Final Smash…?” Arrow shrugged.

Those last two words vibrated in his head. A familiar feeling, one that led to his eye being taken away from him.

He knew they weren’t there now, but the blue and red marks he should’ve had, buzzed on the spots on his face.

“Outset, I think I don’t have that fuckass Final Smash anymore.” Outset’s eyes widened.

“You felt that too?”

“Like, the buzzy thing?”

“Yeah!”

“Yeah!”

“You have a kid?!” Kokiri’s shoulders tensed immediately. He slowly turned. He was a…beefy guy. At least, that’s what Kokiri thought. His yellow scarf waved behind him. His gloves, shoulder pads, and boots were also yellow, making them the first thing you really looked at. Though, his suit was blue, followed by a dominantly red helmet. But the helmet physics were weird and blacked out his eyes.

It was the second man he’d ever called- “Captain, I’m-“

Thick fingers gripped Kokiri’s shoulders tightly and started shaking him. “You. Are. TWELVE!”

“What?!” Kokiri shouted. “I’m not twelve! I’m-“

“You are a child! What woman manipulated you to-“

“I’m married!” Kokiri saw Roy snickering to the side and sent him a mean glare.

Falcon’s shaking stopped suddenly, yet Kokiri’s brain still rattled in his skull. “Twelve year olds can get married?”

“I’m,” he felt like throwing up all over the crimson carpet. “thirty…”

“Thirty?!” It echoed throughout everyone’s mouths.

“I said that like four times!” Kokiri pushed the racer away and shook his head, trying to focus his vision from the blurry mess it was now.

“But like…a kid?” The royal blue hedgehog rubbed his neck.

“Yes! And a wife!” Kokiri pointed to the ceiling, a smile on his face and his free hand on his hip.

“Ah.” Everyone chorused.

“A wife?” Pit smirked. “Is it that redhead?”

Kokiri deflated. “When did I-“

“Every time Lucina and Chrom got into it about lineage, it’d be about her!” Roy cut in. Hums and nods were like ripples throughout the room.

“Ordon is-“

“Your descendant.” Samus said. This one had no suit on. For a second, Kokiri wondered if the other Samus would join them. “You…fangirled about it. We all know, Kiwi.”

“Can we please stop with the Kiwi?”

“But why?” Kokiri gave Outset a stink eye. “It’s so cute! Like you!” Laughs and chuckles filled the space.

Kokiri felt his cheeks grow hot. He punched Outset’s shoulder, leading to the boy to squeak. “I am not cute!”

“He’s right,” Marth cut in. “Kiwi isn’t cute, he’s adorable.” The prince smiled as Kokiri’s eye twitched.

Then it was like the light around him began to dim. “Scatter!” Roy shouted and everyone did as told.

Kokiri looked down at his form and found his body glowing with multiple colors. Deep in his head, the voice rumbled.

“Do they truly anger you enough to use me? It sounds like it’s meant to be good natured.”

Kokiri frowned. “So, you’re not going to throttle them for me?”

“No.” Kokiri groaned. Now was a great time for that fuckass final smash.

It was called Triforce Slash…right? He had no idea where it came from. If he had two triforces, Ganondorf would’ve been defeated in seconds without the whole time travel shenanigans.

Kokiri groaned as his vision went back to normal without him getting his revenge.

[halfgood-halfbad-badboy]

Love at first sight

This is a fic inspired by a hero villain rp that I am in :3 My buddy on discord helped me write some of Virgil's dialogue

(here is the ao3 link https://archiveofourown.org/works/48657763 )

Triggers: Vomit mention, broken bones, and implied abuse

Ships: Roman/Virgil

Summary: How the great hero DayDream met the newbie

(not beta read)

This sucked.

Roman was sent on a mission to stop and capture a speedster villain. The villain was one of the slower speedsters since they got all their power from their suit, and was considered a D-list villain. With his enhanced stamina and strength, Roman knew he could catch up to the speedster in no time. Though the hero agency had failed to tell their star pupil just how long the villain could run for.

   After running the entire length of the city 7 times and running into a LOT of streetlights and mailboxes, the villain decided to run out of the city limits just as the sky was getting dark. Luckily for Roman, after 5 hours of running the boots that gave the villain their powers finally ran out of power letting Roman finally catch up with them.

   Though thanks to his stupid human body (and the fact his broken toes haven’t healed fully from his last mission) he was exhausted from his all day marathon run across the city. Once Roman was finally able to throw a punch the villain pitifully pushed him down and started pounding at him. Punch after punch hit after hit till the villain finally had enough and decided to grab their things and leave. 

   Roman laid in the grass in some field unable to move thanks to his soar, exhausted body and his newly acquired broken ribs and mashed nose. Normally he’d just drag himself home but he couldn’t feel his legs and every neuron in his arms screamed in unison from pain. 

   “God this is annoying.” Roman thought out loud knowing no one was around to hear. “This will be easy," they said. “Just catch the villain,” they said. “Do a good job and you can have your birthday cake," they said." Roman knew they were lying from the beginning but he didn’t realize how much this would suck. 

   This wasn’t how he wanted to spend his birthday. He wanted to catch the villain, go home, eat his sugar free cake and hopefully be able to watch tv for the rest of the day. Maybe he would have gotten a present from his mom this year. After all, he's finally 17. He was so close to graduating the jr hero program and entering the adult one. He had always fantasized of hopefully being able to choose his own costume and maybe even getting his own room. He had even heard from some of the mentors that the hero’s in the adult league are allowed to have girlfriends or boyfriends! How amazing would that be to finally kiss someone. 

   Roman stared at the sky for hours waiting for the agency to send someone to grab him but as the moon settled just above his head he realized no one was coming. At least for a while. This was his punishment for letting the villain get away. Roman groaned at this realization and cursed out loud. “Oh yeah guys real fucking mature. What a great idea to leave me in a fucking field in buttfuck nowhere.” He felt hot tears run down his face. With this royal fuck up they’d surely push back his graduation. 

   Once the moon found itself vertical from Romans face he could hear someone walking up from behind. Panic shot through his body, he couldn’t turn his head to look at the possible danger and he was completely defenseless. Instinctively Roman shut his eyes tight waiting for the worst to come. 

   But nothing happened. Roman slowly opened his eyes to see someone with a flashlight scanning the area. The light passed over him and he could hear the person running to him. 

   “Are you ok? No, that's a stupid question- can you move?”

   ‘Oh fuck,’ Roman thought. ‘I’m fucking dead.’

   Roman was never much for religion but this had to be an angle. Or at least some otherworldly being. No one alive could look like this. Someone much too pretty to be a part of this horrible world hovered over Roman asking him questions Roman couldn’t understand. 

   Yes, the bright orange suit hurt his eyes but their wonderful green and blue eyes and flawless dark skin made his heart race. Oh he wished he could understand what the other was saying. 

   For the first time that night Roman was able to force himself up to look at the other person better. 

   “Oh good you can sit up- here let’s get you back to base. Can you stand?” 

   Romans face flushed from how wonderful their voice sounded. Roman attempted to talk to this otherworldly being but the moment he opened his mouth he got too nauseous and threw up on the others shoes.

[theghostofashton]

fic stats meme

thank you for the tags @chaotictarlos and @reyesstrand <3

rules: give us the links to your fic with the most hits, second most kudos, third most comments, fourth most bookmarks, fifth most words, and fic with the least words. (only doing LS fics for this)

most hits: you saw the truth in me

TK Strand. He’s been asked to train TK Strand. He almost didn’t believe it, when he opened his inbox on Monday morning. He had to read Nancy Gillian’s email three times before it started to sink in. TK Strand is making his return to acting after five years, and he’s been asked to train him for the role. Anyone who doesn’t know TK Strand is living under a rock. His story will go down in pop culture history as one of the biggest falls from grace this industry has seen in years. Hollywood’s golden boy, years of good press and praise heaped onto him for his talent, his charisma, his massive heart, all thrown away after a failed engagement and drug-fueled bender broke headlines. Or, Carlos is a celebrity personal trainer, and lapsed actor TK Strand is his new client.

second most kudos: the hiding out is done

TK reaches for one of his hands and presses two fingers to the base of his wrist. “Your pulse is racing, baby. What’s going on?” “It’s-” He cuts himself off, searching for the words but coming up dry. How is he supposed to tell TK he just dreamt about his own death? How is he supposed to break his heart like that? Or, the nightmares haven't let up and Carlos is at his limit.

third most comments: support beams bend and break

It doesn’t feel fair. It doesn’t feel fair that he has to go through all this just because some guy decided to play a stupid prank. Because he cared about his job, cared about finding that woman and baby that were being abused. He doesn’t think it’s fair that everything hurts this much when he just wanted to do the right thing. He just wanted to help that woman, to make sure she and her child were safe. Only she and her child never existed, and he fell right into their trap. He’s so mad he’s seeing red. And he knows he shouldn’t be. He knows the anger is useless. He knows it won’t do anything for him. He knows he just needs to get past this, just put it behind him, but he can’t. He can’t move on. He doesn’t know how. He doesn’t know how to not feel this. or, a missing scene from 3x11

fourth most bookmarks: now and forever

“I know,” he says. “I don’t know how I got so lucky.” “You found a man that loves you,” she says. “You have so much love to give, Carlitos, and you’ve found someone who loves you just as much. That’s not luck, that’s the journey. Learning and loving and letting life bring you everything it has to offer.” The journey. Their journey, which has been full of twists and turns, ups and downs, life throwing just about everything at them. Their journey, which has been so hard at times but so rewarding, at others, so full to the brim with joy and laughter and warmth that it feels like a dream. He’s never been able to wake up from it, and he never wants to. or, the dinner (and more)

fifth most words: until we laugh again (technically the hiding out is done but in the interest of not repeating too much)

He keeps playing the phone call over in his head. Paul handing him the phone, his dad listing off Kendra’s symptoms, the panic that shocked his whole body when Owen said he was starting rescue breaths. He should’ve expected it. He knows his dad well enough to know that if there’s something he can do to save someone, he will. No matter what. Even if it could mean losing his own life in the process. TK shudders, squeezing his eyes shut. He doesn’t want to think about that. He really, really doesn’t want to think about that. or, the aftermath of a second failed game night.

least words: support beams bend and break

i'll tag @sanjuwrites @carlos-in-glasses @bonheur-cafe @lightningboltreader @paperstorm and leave an open tag for anyone else that wants to join!

[silverstripe1rose1]

Here is the first part of the first chapter of a fanfic I just started.

There are 2 chapters out rn

Based on an idea, I found somewhere about a romance, but it is a time traveler and an immortal.

Grian is immortal

Scar is the time traveler

Here is the link if you are interested :]

--------------------fic below--------------------

Grian could remember the first time he ran into the charismatic brunet. The man sat in a tree watching as Grian followed his patrol leader around the forest. Their horses' hooves hid the sound of him climbing from tree to tree. He wore fabric along the bottom of his face, leaving only his piercing emerald eyes to make Grian's blood run cold.

Grian let the man think he didn’t notice him above them. The blonde was keeping his bow drawn at his side ready to fire if he moved too close.

“Everything is looking fine to me, Grian. I’m going to head back and report to King Red. Why don't you take my bundles and feel them with those wild berries you like so much?” Grian’s eyes jumped to the armored man.

“Sure thing, Was there anything else Lily was wanting us to gather?”

“Nothing I'm sure they haven’t already told you”

Grian shrugged in response and watched the man trot off on his horse. The moment Grian knew he was out of ear range he drew his bow and pointed it at the man. That causes the guy to comedically flinch and stumble out of the tree hitting the ground hard. He swung his legs off the horse and dropped onto the ground next to him twisting his bow over his shoulder and away. “Who are you and why were you following us?”

“Oh well hello there,” the guy greeted “I mean no harm dude! Just uh.. A friendly traveler!” he scrunched his nose, most likely smiling under the mask. Grian took a moment to look over the man searching for any type of weapon. The man just had a purple cloak and an undershirt that didn’t look like any piece of clothing he’d seen before. It went just past his shoulders and was very thin, didn’t look like it would last him a month of wear. He wore brown pants with a few small bags hanging from a rope attached to his belt. Grian reached out and grabs one of the sacks and opened it, despite the man's complaints. The tan man tried to sit up to grab it back from him. He simply pulled a dagger from under his sleeve and stuck it in his face. “Do you trade?” Grian questioned.

“Oh! uh, yes. I have many trades! It will blow your pretty little mind!” the man waved his hand around as he spoke, “if you just give back that bag I can show you what I have to offer!” Grian looked over the man for a moment, pulling back the dagger and then throwing a glance at the bag.

“If you try to run you will just get an arrow through your ‘pretty little’ brain” he mocked throwing the small brown bag at his chest. He narrowed his eyes as he watched the traveler fumble with the bag before pulling out a few small items and laying them on the ground next to where he was oddly laying in the moist grass.

The items consisted of a notebook bound with dark brown leather, with the title ‘Plants of the forest and how not to die while living off the grid’ which was a sentence Grian didn’t quite understand but it still made sense. The words were funny. Then there was a gold chain with a few rings on it. The last item caught Grian’s eye. It was a dagger like the one Grian already was holding though it had the skull of a bird on the hilt, wrapped in a white cloth, what caught his eyes was the inscription along the blade. It was a rectangle but the corners and sides were not connected. A shape he knew all too well.

He snatched it up quickly and looked over the blade again. How had this man ended up with a dagger that had once been in the presents of a Watcher? Grian flipped it in his hand as he tried to figure out whose blade it could have been.

“Looks like you’re interested in that one, well show me what you have to offer and I can see what we can do for you” The man, who Grian had momentarily forgotten was there spoke.

“Where did you get this” he ignored the question.

“That? I just found it in a Shop- like a trading post… The girl gave it to me for free, she said no one ever showed interest in it”

“What did she look like?”

“You definitely wouldn’t know her” He shrugged. He whipped the bird skull dagger into his face. “ She had bright orange hair! Broad shoulders! I don’t know her name” The man sputtered out. Grian pushed the blade closer to his face, “ I swear! I didn’t even think much of it!”

Grian sighed and dropped his arm. “Go”

“What?”

“Go. what don’t you understand from that”

“Well we need to trade, you can’t keep it! It’s my only knife”

“Find a new one”

“Hey man, I won’t even ask for much, anything would be enough”

“I said, go”

“I don’t think you know how trades work, man. I’m also supposed to get something out of it”

“You are” when the man opened his mouth to speak again Grian swung the bow from over his shoulder and pointed an arrow between his eyes “your life.” he finished “now go get yourself a new knife and stop spying on people who clearly could kill you in a heartbeat”

The man's eyes widened at the arrow. He reached up and grabbed a silver chain around his neck. There was a pendant attached to it. The man rotated the side of the circle clockwise, then flicked it so the middle spun quickly.

The next this that happened made him question if the man really was a traveler or even from this time at all. He disappeared, and just as if he never existed. The world around him went quiet. Grian looked down at the other two items abandoned on the ground. He picked up the chain of rings and peered at them. Something had to tell him who that man was. Magic wasn’t a shock to Grian, he lived long enough to know wizards existed, though it had been a very long time since he had run into one. A few thousand years at the least. What made his gut turn cold was the blade. If the man was lying then he had been spotted by a Watcher. His location was revealed. Which meant it was, again, time for him to move.

Grian pocketed the notebook and jewelry, slid the dagger into the empty holster on his thigh, and began to stage his death. Something he had regrettably become very familiar with. An easy ambush would be enough for patrol to believe. He cut a few slices of his cloak and stabbed them into a few surrounding branches to indicate a struggle. Then he cut his palm putting pressure around the now bleeding cut and watched as blood pooled in his palm. He then let it splatter around on the ground. He didn’t need much. He was sure the hounds would be able to sniff it out. Though that also meant he needed to hide his scent.

He went with taking his cloak off to roll it in the dirt around the area, getting some moss and spreading it around his boots, then to his dismay dusting some dirt into his blonde hair and clothes. The white top is now an off-tan, with splotches of green. Nothing that he couldn’t wash out later. He then reached to the chain around his ankle, hidden underneath his sock. And snapped it off.

Elegant white wings blew into view as if it were the breezes’ will. The feathers were still soft and all in place from the last time he had preened them. Grian looked back and smiled. It had been a few years since he had seen them. Then he was off to find a new life. Somewhere, this one would never cross. The clouds engulfed his small frame. The smell of wet bark soon turned to the brewing of a thunderstorm. He spread his wings wide and let himself drop a few hundred feet before twisting a shooting himself higher into the sky.