#live up to expectations and ALSO he never felt like he belonged in ~the boy school~ to begin with

[star-girl69]

Because Of You

Clarisse La Rue x Fem!AphroditeCabin!Reader

—-

synopsis: years after your rite of passage, the boy who’s heart you broke just won’t leave you alone. clarisse, your girlfriend, quickly decides she’s not a fan.

a/n: should i stop procrastinating and then forcing myself to write shitty fics quickly? probably. but not today!! this is kinda just like an au of dont delete the kisses but… you guessed it… IDC!!!!!!!! from this ask

thank you all so much for patiently waiting i love y’all soooooo muuccchhhhhh 🫶🫶💋 as i mentioned on my acc i have the next week off from school, pls expect more content then!!

Because Of You - Lana Del Rey (Unreleased)

warnings: NOT PROOFREAD, this sucks so bad y’all sorry lolllll, y/n is a year round camper!, starts out very background heavy but i really don’t care 😭, creepy men UGH, ugly bitches not being able to let shit go, im gonna say sexual harassment just incase, swearing, usual demigod stuff y’all know what you’re getting into, jealous!clarisse YESSS, possessive!clarisse ik i screamed!!, protective!clarisse too, slightly graphic makeout scene, i think that’s all, tell me if i missed anything!!

—-

When you were young, you were thrilled by the thought of love.

The idea of belonging not only with someone- bodies fitting together like puzzles pieces- but belonging to someone- wrapping around you like a warm blanket.

Later, your half-siblings would describe mostly similar experiences to yours- an overwhelming desire to be loved, wanted, needed. Ever since you ran into camp with a monster hot on your heels and satyr shouting encouragement next to you- everyone’s stared at you. They poke and prod, they act like they’ve never seen a daughter of Aphrodite before.

It’s annoying, but it makes you feel good- but not quite.

Until Alek came along.

You were both 13, you still believed in soulmates, and you wanted nothing more than to be with each other for the rest of your lives.

You were 13, and he felt like the only one for you.

And when you had to break up with him to fulfill your rite of passage- it felt like the world was ending. You cried for days and begged your sister Phoebe to say it wasn’t a true, it was just a mean, mean prank.

But she couldn’t tell you that, and there were more types of love that romantic.

While you longed to hold someone, to be held- you also craved your mother’s approval like you were starving. You wanted her love, you wanted her to visit you in your dreams, you wanted gifts from her, you wanted everything and anything she could give you.

So, it hurt like you had never known hurt before, but you did it. Alek seemed entirely indifferent to it, almost ignoring you and pretending you hadn’t said it- but you felt a warmness around you, a dove flew between trees, you knew your mother was there and she approved.

Breaking up with Alek felt like the sun had exploded on top of you.

Being with Clarisse felt like the sun was wrapped around you.

—-

After Alek’s initial denial, he went through all the other stages of grief, mourned your relationship like you did, and you came out on the other side with a one-sided agreement to forget it ever happened.

Alek got stuck. Or went back. He started to believe that you were still meant to be, that much you could tell.

Until that day at the training fields when your hand slipped at archery and you almost shot Clarisse in the head- and she had glared at you so harshly while you ran over and examined her head, gushing out apologies and fretting over her.

She pushed you away, hand lingering for a second, eyes softening before she quickly looked away.

“Just… be more careful,” she had said, almost like a question, like she wasn’t sure the words were coming out of her mouth.

And, Gods, were you terrified it was all some secret plan. Make you think it was alright only to corner you in the woods and probably kill you, or something.

And when she asked the next day to teach you how to shoot a bow, you agreed with tears in your eyes, knowing of her reputation, and it took a lot of trust and a lot of swapped secrets for her to prove to you it wasn’t all some elaborate plan.

But even if her plan was to kill you the entire time, you fell in love over her fixing your stance, hands brushing as you accidentally grabbed the same arrow, stolen looks across the pavilion.

It wasn’t until a random kid bumped into you, making you fall and twist your ankle. Clarisse had this look in her eyes that was so genuine, so full of love and care for you, softly caressing your leg after she had punched the other kid in the face.

And you realize as she said you were doing great, limping while she helped you to the infirmary, that this was something.

And as much as you hated the violence being committed over you, it was the hottest thing you’ve ever seen, and the warmth in your chest was all you had ever wanted. This was what it was like to belong with someone, to someone, with her, to her.

This was what it was like to be admired. Loved. Wanted. Needed.

And when she softly told you goodbye, you had kissed the corner of her lips and thanked her- turning to walk into your cabin, ankle already feeling better thanks to the ambrosia.

She grabbed you by the wrist and turned you around, pulling you against her tightly and kissing you so harshly like she had just found the secret to the world in her lips on yours, her hands on your hips.

And when she finally pulled away, embarrassing strings of spit connecting your lips, she said she was sorry. Probably the first time she had ever said that to someone, and you smiled.

“Sorry. It’s just… once your lips were on mine, I don’t think I can ever stop. I don’t wanna stop.”

And she kissed you again and it was all you ever wanted out of this life- to love and be loved, to hold and to be held, and it was all because of her.

—-

The welcome back campfire is your favorite time of year.

It’s when the camp comes alive, when the Gods themselves seem to return to this place- even Mr. D is a bit more lively with all the pure infectious energy running through the first few days of camp. Everyone’s getting settled, classes haven’t started quite yet, and the year round campers get a much needed break.

As much as you and Clarisse wanted to keep things private, when she punches someone in the middle of the pavilion for accidentally bumping into you, it’s not hard to figure out Clarisse cares for you more than she does anyone else.

And after one of your younger siblings, Cara, a 12-year-old notorious for staying up late, saw you and Clarisse kissing that first night- it spread like wildfire.

But it was the winter, so it still felt secret, until summer rolled around and Clarisse kept getting more and more annoyed by every camper who entered the gates. She would grab at you in the middle of meals, drag you into her bed, even kiss you in public- do all these things that seemed so out of character for her, but she was a different person when she was with you.

Everyone had been looking at you oddly all night, shocked, confused, even Clarisse has cracked a genuine smile at someone who dropped their drink- squeezing your hand.

Maybe they had all heard the rumors. Maybe they didn’t believe them.

But it’s all cleared up when Clarisse leads you to the best seat, the log not too far from the fire but not too close, wrapping her arms around you and kissing your temple.

Your cheeks heat up, only because Clarisse is never this touchy in public, and never around this many people before.

All of the eyes on you feel weird- they feel so judging.

And you’re not used to that, however vain it may be.

“Everyone’s staring at us,” you mumble, shuffling closer to Clarisse so your legs are pressed together.

She leans her head against your shoulder. “‘S okay. Don’t worry about ‘em, baby.”

You huff. “Did no one ever teach them it’s rude to stare, though? Like… c’mon.”

She sighs dramatically, lifting her head from your shoulder.

“Stop fuckin’ staring,” she says. Not quiet shouting, but her voice is loud and forceful. Her voice carries weight.

And eventually, at the risk of Clarisse’s wrath, all the wandering eyes stop.

A few of Clarisse’s siblings laugh from around you, commenting that the stares were getting a bit ridiculous, everyone just grateful that you all might get a little reprieve from the overwhelming stares and whispers.

But, you still feel uneasy. Clarisse kisses your shoulder.

And while you look around at the faces very pointedly not staring at you, there’s one person who still is. You roll your eyes, open your mouth to comment on it- but your mouth quickly snaps close at the sight of Alek.

—-

You don’t mention it to Clarisse. Maybe because breaking his heart haunts you, maybe what could have been haunts you.

You try not to think of Alek or that night, you try not to think of the entire age of 13. You always knew that Alek never quite let you go. He still sort of believed that the two of you would come back together- subscribing to some abstract belief soulmates.

You don’t think about Alek. Everything you do is because of her, because of Clarisse.

Sometimes, knowing you have secret admirers makes you feel all happy, but now that Clarisse sneaks you into her cabin every night- it makes you feel weird. You really don’t want anyone except for Clarisse, the idea of even being near someone else kinda disgusts you.

But, you choose to believe that maybe he was just shocked, and he’ll get over it in a few days.

You spend your days in the summer sun with Clarisse, holding her hand on walks through the strawberry fields, still using your archery lessons to spend time together, staring at each other from across the pavilion at meals, dreaming about a future together when it gets dark and you’re forced to whisper softly.

Alek is just always lurking. Is it coincidence? Is he stalking you? Every time you’re with Clarisse, trying to enjoy a nice date, he’s there- staring at you like a lovesick puppy.

And if it wasn’t because of her, you would probably be flattered. But you have Clarisse, you’ve moved on, you’re in love and happy.

It’s the late afternoon, you’re trying to enjoy a long moment with her, breathe in the sweet smell and just feel how happy you are, know it’s because of her.

The fields are still crowded with kids who pushed off their chores until the end of the day, so you and Clarisse stay on the outskirts. Not too far into the woods that’s filled with satyrs and nymphs who have grown very hostile towards any two campers who make their way into the woods. But not too close.

You don’t even register that other people are there. You’re going on about your annoying half-brother, she’s pretending to listen intently- but it’s just enough to be here with her, and at least she’s listening to the sound of your voice. At least that brings her some comfort, and that makes you feel good.

“And then, he said-” you trail off, feeling like something’s crawling all over you, practically being able to feel the anger in the air.

“Hm, what?” Clarisse asks, snapping out of her reverie at your silence.

Alek is glaring at you, of course. It just feels so juvenile. You had received letters from him for years- ones that he didn’t sign- but you knew. He said that the two of you had so much more to give together, that a second chance was all he needed to make you forget about the rite of passage, about pleasing your mother.

Clarisse squeezes your hand, leaning closer to you.

You used to like the feeling of getting those letters, of knowing you were loved and wanted. But now, with Clarisse, because of her- it feels wrong.

She follows your eye line and Alek quickly looks away, back down at the strawberries he’s supposed to be picking.

Clarisse’s hand tightens around yours.

“Who the hell is that?” she huffs.

You suck in a breath. “Alek.”

“Al-huh?”

You smile, despite how uneasy you feel.

“Alek, Clarisse. From my rite of passage?”

“Oh,” she nods, nose scrunching ever so slightly. “The one who left you those creepy letters? Has he left anymore?”

“No, no,” you say, risking one more glance at his back- just to assure yourself. Maybe you’re just making it all up. “Not since last summer. I mean, he was staring at us the night of the bonfire too, he’s always around on all our dates- it’s just creepy, at this point.”

“Sounds like the fucker has a death wish,” she drawls. “I’d be happy to help him with it.”

You bump her shoulder with yours. “Yeah, yeah Miss Violence.”

She smiles back, but she searches her eyes and you can tell she doesn’t like what she sees.

“Hey, c’mon. I’ll kill him if he pulls some shit again.”

“Clarisse.”

“Beat him up?”

“Clarisse.”

“Physically threaten him?”

“Clar-”

She smacks her hand over your mouth. “Shhh,” she smiles. “Don’t stress. I’ll take care of it.”

“Clarisse!” you shout, laughing, but her hand is still pressed tight over your moth.

“Oh, sorry, baby, I can’t hear you!”

“Bitch,” you hiss, and she frowns.

“Mean.”

—-

Clarisse, unfortunately, is true to her word.

Alek finally leaves you a note. It’s simple, unsigned, but obviously him. You recognize his chicken scratch scrawl.

All it says is:

I miss you, we could be something

She writes him a note back, a long one- first talking about all of her accomplishments as a daughter of Ares, then detailing all the ways she’ll make him regret thinking about you.

She tells you now, whispers in her bed, she laughs and your mouth hangs open.

“Clarisse!” you gasp, scolding her with a soft hit to her shoulder.

She rolls her eyes and moves closer to you.

“What else was I supposed to do? Ignore it? You don’t know me if you think I could just ignore some random dude flirting with my girlfriend. He’s a fuckin’ weirdo, and hopefully that note will teach him somethin’.”

“I mean. I doubt it will,” you mumble after a moment.

She smiles, your heart squeezes- because her smile is so beautiful- and because Clarisse never smiles like this. It’s bloodthirsty. It’s almost inhuman. It’s Godly.

“Then I’ll have to teach him in… other terms.”

—-

Dinner this evening is slow and relaxed. It’s Friday, so you’ve all made it to the end of the first official week of camp. Chiron let’s the rules fade away tonight, cabin tables have been abandoned and everyone sits where they want.

A few Hermes kids volunteered to start a fire, Mr D is busy trying to get the new kids to sneak him some alcohol- but he’s hard pressed to find ones who haven’t already been warned not to.

The energy in the air is infectious. The promise of a late wake up tomorrow, a fun night, the feeling of the moon and the fire, warmth on your skin- it’s a recipe for lowered inhibitions, for everything to come a little easier.

Clarisse sits next to you a table in the pavilion. You’re surrounded by Silena and Beckendorf, a few Hermes kids, a few Ares kids- a big mosh of random campers squeezed together at this one table- but it works, for whatever reason.

There’s nothing like laughing at someone’s shitty joke and feeling Clarisse laugh with you, pressed close to her so you can feel her chest rumble, feel her arm squeeze around you.

“He did what?!” Silena screeches, looking at you with wide eyes.

You laugh at her shock, at the audacity of Alek.

She sneaks a quick glance at Clarisse, who seems entirely engrossed in her siblings’ arm wresting tournament at the next table over.

“Yeah,” you sigh, feeling sort of complacent with it now. It’s not like anything will change. You’re here because of her, because of Clarisse. Everything you do is because of her.

Breathing, eating, sleeping. Basic human functions and the need to survive has only strengthened with the motivation of staying alive for her.

“Anyways,” you smile. “Clarisse left him back this big, long note. All about how she’s the strongest girl at camp,” you roll your eyes, but you’re smiling too big to be anything but joking. Besides, everyone knows she’s probably right. “And then threatened him a whole bunch. So, hopefully, he’ll just get his head out of his ass and then everything will be good again.”

You breathe out at the end of your small rant, and Silena smiles sympathetically.

“Hopefully,” she echoes.

But, because of Clarisse, because of her arms around you, you don’t feel anything but peace.

—-

Of course, life is not straightforward for demigods.

At the end of the day, you’re doomed to fall in your parents footsteps- except there is no immortality for you to fall back on. You’re vain and you’re proud, just like your parents, and you step too far, jump too high, and you’re as left dust on the floor.

Even though the same path had been left out for you to repeat, doomed footsteps to follow in, you step where they stepped and expect a different end.

The night is pitch black, besides for the brilliant stars and the bright, bright moon. It makes everything feel so private and secret. It makes Clarisse relax, makes her hold you closer but looser.

It feels good to feel her arm loose around you. She’s not afraid of you disappearing, because she knows of someone dragged you away you would rise up from the waves and straight back into her, into her arms.

The Apollo kids are playing music, voices hum along, the night is on fire with the crackles and the rising smoke, on fire with the peace, the content.

It feels like nothing can hurt you here.

But you’re a demigod, and life is not that easy.

The seat next to you is abandoned, and you barely even take notice as it’s quickly filled again- but you take notice of the eyes on you, of the body leaning forward to speak softly to you.

The fact that he’s here, the fact that he blatantly didn’t listen- you suppose you could have felt some sympathy for before, craving a life that wasn’t his anymore. Living off of memories made him too hungry.

Your mouth presses into a thin line as you recognize the voice in your ear.

“Y/N, I jus’ wanna talk.”

The rest of the table has fallen silent, and you realize everyone had almost immediately taken notice of his entrance- and you could tell by the way Clarisse’s body was tense against yours- he would regret ever coming over here.

“Clarisse,” you mumble, shifting closer to her.

She hooks her head over her shoulder, shifting completely so she’s straddling the bench, pressed up against your back.

Her tone is genuinely confused.

“Are you, like, okay in the head?”

The table, previously silent with fear, now bubbles with forced laughter.

“It’s not of your business,” Alek says, staring directly into your eyes. You feel like a deer caught in headlights, just completely shocked, too scared to move like it will all become real.

Clarisse puts her hand on your forehead and floats it down across your face, and your eyes voluntarily flutter shut.

“You’re not even worthy of being looked at by her,” and you can hear the smile on her voice. She confidence seeping from her pores- you can feel it all with the way she’s protectively wrapped around you.

“Y/N,” he says again, ignoring her through gritted teeth. “I just want to talk.”

“If you say one more fuckin’ word to my girlfriend I’m gonna kill you.”

There’s no smile on her voice, no edge of a joke. Not even angry. She’s deathly calm. She’s focused, like a 20 pound weight sinking to the bottom of the sea. She cuts through whatever she has to and everything else knows to avoid her.

You don’t know why the hell Alek just can’t let the 13 year old version of you go, why he’s looking something where there’s nothing, and you’re just so done with all of this.

You open your eyes, sitting up, letting Clarisse’s arms fall around you in confusion.

“Alek,” you start, softly. “We dated for a month when we were 13. That’s all it was, that’s all it’s ever gonna be. It’s over, okay?”

“Exactly,” he breathes. “A month when we were 13- and we were that good together? We could do so much more now, I wanna show you.”

“Okay, I’m done,” you mumble, standing up.

And without you in between, Alek finally gets a good look at the daughter of war. She’s pure, streamlined muscle. Every inch of her body has been meticulously trained to kill monsters- Alek knows that killing him would be easy.

Clarisse cracks her knuckles and you almost laugh at how cinematic it is.

—-

You hum as you run the alcohol pad over her split knuckles. Clarisse likes to leave the scars like this, the small ones, let them heal on her own. Even though she winces at the feeling, you know she’ll be walking around, proudly showing off her scabs until they finally fade away. She’ll cross her fingers and hope they scar, probably.

Clarisse watches you with admiration, admiring your movements, your voice, even though you’re really not doing anything special. But, to her, everything you do is special.

“Did you see how bad his face was?” she asks, trying to remain calm, but eagerness slips into her voice.

“I did,” you laugh. “It was real bad, baby. Good job.”

She huffs, as if it’s common knowledge.

“I always do a good job, just matters what level of good I’m on. I think this was one of my best works though, huh?”

She admires her split knuckles and you roll your eyes, finally starting to put some bandaids on the clean wounds.

“You’re crazy,” you mutter.

She shrugs. “You’re the one who let me. You’re the one who loves me.”

“Yeah,” you mumble after a moment, not really wanting to lie to her, tease her right now. She smiles soft and sweet, placing her fingertips against your jawline and leaning forward.

“Did you like watching me?” she breathes, her low voice hitting you right in the stomach, breath against your lips.

You circle her biceps with your hands and run them up and down the tense muscle.

“You know I did.”

“Three months no dessert,” she smiles.

“Three months of sharing with you,” you laugh. She smiles wider before finally, mercifully, putting her lips on yours.

Everything you do is because of Clarisse. It feels so good to be close to her like this- practically in her lap- fo feel how strong she is, to know what she did for you today.

It feels so good to know she loves you.

When you pull away, trying to chase her, she dodges you and kisses your jawline, your neck, and you throw your head back and release the most unladylike sounds as she leaves hickies on your neck, seemingly determined to make them as dark as possible, as easy to see. And a lot of them.

“Jealous?” you say, biting your lip to keep in a moan.

“Just want everyone to know you’re my girl. Want everyone to know who makes you feel good, feel loved, huh?”

You stomach twists and your mind goes blank.

“Huh?” she repeats, sticking her face in your neck to breathe in and out, catching her breath. “Why you feelin’ like this, baby?”

“Because of you,” you breathe. “Because of you, Clarisse.”

—-

y/n walking around the next day looking like she got attacked by a vampire

silena trying to be happy for y’all but also concerned for your health

clarisse just being proud as hell

—-

this was small so idk if y’all picked it up but clarisse was jealous before alek even came along- jealous that there were more campers coming! like? she just doesn’t like unworthy losers looking at her girl 🙄

—-

possessive!clarisse i love you so much baby

—-

taglist:

@lvrue @t-wylia @laughingcheese037 @kroumi @urdeadpoet @colezb @rey26 @harmzilla @elliewilliamsbae @amberfreemansburntface @kyuupidwrites @neverwaakeme-up @shark1008 @liballer @heyimadison @nvirskies @pnsteblnme @mar2ss @restellsss @ravisinghs-wife @marsconer @evangelinexo @randomhoex @luvrrish @rebecca37 @saltair-and-palemoonlight @ace-spades-1

[gatorbites-imagines]

Padwan anakin x more dark side leaning reader?

Padawan Anakin Skywalker x dark side leaning male reader

Headcanons

Featuring my boy Jon Antilles, give it up for Jon Antilles everybody.

You had both been younglings with the jedi, and later Padawans. You had been older than Anakin by the time he joined the order, meaning you were just at the cusp of getting sent off to the other corpse if you didn’t get picked as a padawan.

You had never fit in much with the Jedi. You were too emotional, too quick to anger, and your grudges knew no ends. You still had a chip on your shoulder because Yoda decided to tease you when you were very small, if that said anything about your ability to hold grudges.

You were the child of two slaves, who had served under the worst of the worst. This meant you had been surrounded by darkness and hate since you started growing in your parents’ womb. You had overheard many of the older jedi wonder if that was the reason for your emotional state.

Anakin didn’t fit in much either, having joined so late and being the so called chosen one. Because of this, you two found comfort in each other.

Anakin was so excited about being a jedi, though he also feared living up to the potential. In your eyes he just switched one slave owner for the next, as that was how it felt to you. But he was young and bright, so you didn’t wanna rain on his parade.

But just before your 13th birthday, you were taken as a padawan of one of the lesser known and vaguer Jedi of the order, Jon Antilles. He was a person who followed the will of the force and not the order, and the force led him to you.

He would later tell you that he looked into your eyes and saw the fire raring within you, unable to be quelled and as a result, making you someone who would suffer under the pressure and expectations of the order.

Saying goodbye to Anakin was hard, as you two had found yourselves as the only true friend the other had. Many feared you because of your known anger and revenge seeking tendencies, and Anakin because of the heavy burden of the prophesy.

But as two former slaves, you also both knew that the galaxy was vast, and that you had to go where the currents took you. Anakin also understood, even though he still didn’t fully understand the order, that you didn’t belong within the temple and that you needed to spread your wings.

Before you left, you pressed a kiss to Anakin’s forehead and gave him a bracelet made out of a thick black cord. It chafed the skin but was sturdy enough to take anything that may hit it. It was the last keepsake you had of your parents, and it had been what kept you going for all this time, and now you wanted Anakin to have it.

So, with one last goodbye, and promises whispered in the language of slaves, you left with your new Master, who told you not to call him master but instead refer to him as your teacher.

Jon Antilles had seen the worst the galaxy had to offer, and had no wish to be referred to as master by someone who was once a slave.

Back at the temple Anakin would find himself crying silently and tearlessly in his room, mourning the loss of a friend, his only friend. Obi Wan would feel his grief in the force, and would go to comfort him, knowing what it is like to lose someone so dear to you.

This would most likely lead to their relationship being better in this universe, at least a little. As that one moment helped cement a deeper level of trust and understanding.

Anakin stayed with the order and became more and more skilled, a part of him waiting for the moment you two would reunite. The bracelet stayed around his wrist, though he moved it to some other part of his body to keep it hidden, and other jedi started mumbling comments about attachment.

You thrived under Antilles, as he didn’t follow the orders from the council, the order, or even the republic. He only seemed to care about where the force wanted him, and by extension you, to go.

Your teacher was a firm believer in the light, but he also saw that the dark existed, so when you for the first time grasped the dark side in a life-or-death situation, he didn’t punish you like you feared.

Using the dark side once means it’s always with you, but instead of shunning you, your teacher helps you find balance, at least to the best of your ability.

The dark side is hard to master, and maybe you never fully do. But you never give yourself too it completely, always holding a tight grasp on the light beside it, letting the two feed off of each other to keep you from going down an unforgivable path.

Your anger and grudges still persist, and there are times you end up being needlessly cruel, but you catch yourself before its too late. During these times your teachers help is necessary, until you master it on your own.

Because of the nomadic lifestyle of Antilles and you, you end up ready to go on your own much before most other Padawan. Life experiences matures a person, and Antilles trusts you to do what is right, even if he has caught you practicing lightning or sucking the life energy out of things.

So as Anakin still works hard to be a better padawan and to fit the tight mold the order places upon him, you explore the outer parts of the galaxy, running with bounty hunters and pirates alike.

One might think you would be discovered as a jedi one way or another, but thanks to your less and jedi personality, and preferences for other weapons, you are never figured out.

Your loyalty to the rules of the order are also very very loose, if not nonexistent. The many experiences you have out in the galaxy puts many things into perspective, and you make your own theories and ideas about how the force works, theories that struggle against the rules of the jedi.

During all this time, Anakin can’t seem to leave your mind. Hes always present somewhere in there, the thin thread of a bond between the two of you so skinny its barely there anymore after all this time. But every now and again, you like to give it a little tug, smiling to yourself when he tugs back.

You two meet again during one of Anakin’s missions with Obi Wan, a mission that’s taken them further away from the core than Anakin has been since he was taken in by the jedi.

It’s a mission involving a slave trader who’s somehow smuggling slaves in and out of the republic, and the two jedi were sent to check it out but not get involved, much to Anakin’s annoyance.

They end up splitting up, not wanting to be suspected, and Anakin has to wear something to cover his head to hide his Padawan braid.

In the end, Anakin finds the hideout of the Slave traders, and just as he’s about to report it back to Obi Wan, a figure swoops in and starts ransacking the place.

Anakin can only watch with shock as you tear through the slave traders, the darkness inside you purring at their spilled blood, as the light silently approves of the justice you act out. Its only after you’ve freed all the slaves and take your hood off that Anakin recognizes you.

One way or another he follows you and corners you, in the way Anakin does, eyes wide but sparkling at how much skill you had shown in there, many questions leaving him as he wants to know what you have been up too and how you got here.

Most jedi would probably have disapproved of you killing the slavers, but Anakin had never seen slavers as anyone worth living, not that he could share those thoughts with anybody.

But at some point, you end up taking the Jedi padawan back to the room you booked for the night, where you two spend the entire night talking about what’s happened since last time you met, the bond between you strengthening after so long apart.

After that, you two keep bumping into each other. You had a feeling the force was playing a role in this, and you swore you could hear it giggling in amusement a sit pushed you together with its chosen one again and again.

Whenever you were around, the mission always ended much faster, meaning Anakin could slip away and spend time with you before reporting back to Obi Wan.

During this time, the childish crush he had had on you all that time ago comes back with a vengeance. Even when he sees you use sith lightning for the first time, he can’t seem to feel anything by affection for you.

Anakin knows he should fear you, but even as your turned turn yellow for a second or two as you lean fully into the dark during a battle, he only seems able to find your beautiful.

When Anakin kisses you for the first time, neither of you truly know how to react. Anakin’s never been in a relationship, and you have never really been with anyone you truly had feelings for. But Anakin just couldn’t keep it to himself anymore, even as he knows it goes against everything the order has taught him.

If he truly were to follow the order, Anakin would have to report that you had fallen, even though you still used the light as much as you did the dark. After that he would have to stay away from you, lest you corrupt him. But he just can’t, so he stays, slipping you information so you know where his next mission goes, so you “accidentally” end up with a contract on that planet.

You settle on Coruscant for a while, which means Anakin can sneak out and spend time with you away from prying eyes.

The fact that you use the dark without succumbing to it ends up helping Anakin not fall when that time comes, but for now, you just help him get a better understanding of the force and how you have come to see it as an entity.

Obi Wan regularly wonders where Anakin goes, and worries to some degree, but he does realize that Anakin always feels lighter and more at peace when he returns from his outings, so he lets him have them to himself, hoping his Padawan would tell him if there was anything he needed to know.

As a result of your status, Anakin would start to think about leaving the order someday. Maybe not soon, but maybe one day he would like to leave with you and just go where the force takes you two.

He knows it’s a romantic fantasy, but Anakin can’t help but bask in it, even if he has to do it in secret. Being your partner just brings him more peace than any meditation ever has, and Anakin never wants to let you go.

[im00flynn]

Never letting go

Yandere Buggy x Reader

You were a pirate who knew Shanks and Luffy. You were a part of Shanks, and while being on his crew, you met one man who was crazy about you, Years later, while on a quest to find the one piece with Luffy and his friends, Nami and Zoro, you never expected to see him again.

Warnings: Yandere, Angst

You'd known Luffy since he was little. You met him through Shanks, and you knew he wanted to the king of the pirates

You were extremely supportive of his dream and even helped him start up his own crew.

Now you were with Luffy, Zoro, and Nami on your ship on your way to find the one piece.

What you didn't tell the crew is your history with some pirates at sea, thinking that all the issues were left in the past.

Boy were you wrong.

"What the hell was that?" Zoro questions after hearing a thud outside the small room on the boat

We all rush out and notice that red smoke covers up the entire ship, then it hits you that you know who is doing this.

Before you're able to possibly fight any pirates that try to fight, you pass out due to the smoke.

-------------------‐-------------------------------------------------

"Wakey, Wakeyy~, a familiar voice tells you as you regain your consciousness.

"Ah, Their awake! Hi sweetheart~" The voice says, making it realize it belongs to the one man you thought you'd gotten away from.

Buggy.

"Buggy?" You whisper mostly to yourself, still not believing anything that's happening.

"That's right! we are finally together again [Name], and I don't plan on letting you go again."

"How did you find me?" You ask him with curiosity but also fear.

"Well, sweet face, I have my ways that I might reveal later on." He says with his creepy smile.

-------------------‐-------------------------------------------------

After Buggy told you that information, he took you to his circus arena and made you change into an outfit similar to his.

"You look lovely darling, you should wear stuff like this more often~" He tells you as he walks towards you, placing a kiss on your head, linking arms with you.

This would be a sweet moment if it wasn't for the fact that he was obsessed and overly protective of you.

When you first met him, you thought he was a cool person who you developed feelings for.

But he also developed feelings for you, except it was more of an obsession than love.

He would get jealous when you would hang out with Shanks or any other crew member.

You thought if you left with Shanks and left Buggy behind, he would move on.

You were wrong.

-------------------‐-------------------------------------------------

"Buggy, please let me and my friends go." You plead him.

"That's not going to happen, sweetheart." He tells you as he gets ready for his show.

"Why not?" You question him with irritation

He stops and walks up to you, so you're face to face.

"I have been in love with you ever since I met you. When I met you, I felt the need to protect you and love you. I was going to ask you to be my partner, but then Shanks took you away from me and left without a word as to why. Maybe he was in love with you too, I mean, who can blame him?" He says that last sentence with a sarcastic chuckle.

"But.." He makes the space between you too smaller, "Shanks isn't here, so he can't take you away again." he tells you.

Before you can respond, he closes the gap and puts his lips on you, putting a hand behind your head to make the kiss deeper.

After a few seconds, he pulls away and whispers, "You're mine now."

His evil clown smile creeps back on his face as he takes your hand in his.

"Now, let's go, sweetheart. we got a show to put on"

A/N: This fanfiction will have a part 2, but I'm thinking about making this fanfiction a series. It would follow the plot of the live action One Piece. Let me know if you want me to continue this story beyond a part 2.

[jeankirsteinsgrlfrnd]

Have you done a piece yet for jean being jealous? If not you totally should. 😋

captain jaeger and jealous jean

pairing: jean kirstein x f!reader (x eren sort of, not really)

wc: 1.8k+

tw: alcohol, inebriation, fluff, cursing, eren’s a dickhead, a little heated at the end 🤏🏻

a/n: thank you for this request! i hope you like it! also not proofread

if you’d ask him, jean would define jealousy as the deafening sound of a pulse canceling out every other noise. he’d also say he doesn’t get jealous. was he competitive? sure, but that didn’t mean he was jealous.

athletic rivals with eren, those two were always butting heads about something, anything. jean was easy to rile up and eren was a relentless tease. eren found an extreme amount of joy in raising the other boy’s blood pressure. but no, jean wasn’t jealous of eren. he hated him and that idiotic man-bun of his. the way he’d blink a certain way and some easily fooled girl would slip him her number. the way things came naturally to him. it wasn’t jealous, he’d say, it’s hatred.

y/n wasn’t the jealous type, either. there were girls prettier than her and she knew that. nothing she could do about it, so she didn’t worry. besides, she didn’t want to be the type of person to make every other girl her competition. she felt like a plain jane and she was contempt with it, oddly enough. she attracted just enough attention to feel pretty every now and then.

so when eren jaeger, the gorgeous captain of the baseball team, chose to talk to her at his house party, she felt divine. she felt seen.

*************

typical pop music flooded the house, drowning out any sentences that would normally otherwise be coherent. eren jaeger’s living room was flooded with girls in tight clothes and boys who were just a little too sweaty. it was cramped, almost making you feel claustrophobic.

you’d never been to a party before. at least, not the one’s you’d seen on the television. the type where people were passed out in random spots, where the scent of booze lingered heavily, where there were people making out upstairs in the bedrooms. this party certainly exceeded your expectations, despite it still being early on the night.

you’re not quite sure why you’re here. your friend, mikasa, had invited you earlier on in the day. she said that eren had wanted you to come. and with her being his childhood best friend, you believed her. mikasa and you weren’t exactly besties or anything of the sorts, but she was more than an acquaintance.

there you were, standing in the middle of the most popular boy’s living room, dazed and alone. an overwhelming desire to become a wallflower strikes you. fighting the battle of a lifetime, you swat away your urge to be antisocial and head to the kitchen where the drinks are sure to be plenty.

the kitchen is only slightly less crowded than the previous room. a group of people are huddled around the kitchen island. fortunately, you identify mikasa by her jet black wolf cut.

“hey, mikasa.” you shout to upstage the music.

mikasa spins around, revealing a red solo cup in her right hand. ‘mik’ is written sloppily on it in black sharpie. her eyes, with no less than half a pound of eyeliner on them, skim you up and down. as you start to worry about your outfit choices, she smiles.

“y/n, you came,” she starts, “you look cute.” mikasa compliments as she wraps her arms around you.

there’s no chance for you to respond with an attempt of feigning your belonging because eren is breaking away from his spot at the counter. he stands at a crisp six foot one, towering over both mikasa and you. like everyone else at the party, eren is sporting a red cup, holding it by it’s brim. ‘captain’ is written messily on it, along with the number ‘17.’

a few pieces of his dark hair frame his face. wonderous green eyes that search yours. a chiseled jaw you imagine slicing your finger open on.

oh, just looking at him you could bleed.

“hey. what’re you drinking?” he asks, tilting his head down.

casual. his words are casual. like it isn’t your first time truly holding a conversation with him.

“anything, i don’t really…” you trail off as your eyes flicker between his.

this makes eren smile. he throws up one finger on his left hand, signaling you to allow him a moment to find something he finds suitable for you. he rummages through the fridge and pulls out a red wine cooler.

“this good?” he asks, raising it in the air.

“yes,” you yell back whilst nodding your head.

eren comes back as mikasa gives you a look. she tilts her head up and shakes it at her friend before leaning back onto the counter, rejoining her previous conversation.

he stands before you, extending the hand that holds your drink. just as you go to grab it, he raises it so that you can’t reach it. a smile is painted across his face, revealing bright white teeth.

you blush.

“you can have it,” he cocks his head to the side, “after you do a shot with me and my friends. i’ll even let you use it as a chaser.”

your brain has gone completely fuzzy. eren jaeger invited you to his party, gets a drink just for you, and is now peerpressuing you to indulge in bad decisions.

“okay,” you blink. “i can do that.”

he grins and to your surprise, he throws an arm over your shoulder. “thatta girl,” he says, just low enough for you to hear.

eren weasels you two between sasha and mikasa, the ponytailed girl at your side. she pays no mind to your intrusion and instead offers a smile.

“listen, you delinquents,” eren interrupts them. “we are going to do a shot in honor of my pending status of captain.”

“you are so arrogant, jaeger,” a man scoffs.

across the counter, a messy dirty blonde mullet sits on top of a beautiful, angry face. his forearms rest on the granite as his body leans forward, eyes set directly on the man with his arm around your shoulder.

“oh, jean,” eren coos. “you can’t always get what you want.”

grabbing the malibu bottle by it’s neck, jean laughs. “you haven’t gotten anything yet,” his hazel flickers briefly to yours. “we won’t know until tomorrow.”

the way he talks makes a pit form in your stomach. you’re a smart girl, you know what they’re alluding to. it’s you.

“i guess you’re right. but i’m pretty much guaranteed to score,” eren tightens the bun on the back of his head.

“here,” jean slids you a shot glass. it reeks of coconut.

“you don’t have to take it if you don’t want to,” sasha says. “they’re a bunch of dorks.”

“no, it’s fine,” you shake your head as your fingers wrap around the clear glass. the liquid inside is taunting you.

“eren just wants to get you drunk,” jean says nonchalantly just as the cold glass touches your bottom lip.

“i know,” you respond.

it burns. coconut flavor isn’t strong enough to mask the burning left on your tongue. you can feel it light your esophagus on fire as it travels down, settling in the depths of your stomach.

“i’m going to kill you, kirstein.” eren’s voice raises a few notches as he drops his arms from your shoulder.

jean just laughs. he’s not laughing at eren though, he’s laughing at you.

“what’s so fucking funny?” eren hisses.

“she’s too smart for you,” jean shrugs his shoulders.

“are you too smart for me, (y/n)?” eren asks teasingly, looking down at you.

“i just think that you can’t always get what you want.” you blink your eyes lashes at him a few times before grabbing your bottle out of his hands. he looks dumbfounded as you head towards the living room, leaving him with the sounds of sasha and jean laughing at him.

your feelings are hurt, there’s no denying that. you had felt special and now you know you were just going to be a notch on his belt.

after a few drinks, you find yourself back in the kitchen. this time, there’s no crowd of people in here. just half-filled cups and bottles. faint sounds of terrible karaoke are heard.

you’re standing in front of the faucet, staring out the window, watching people do keg stands. eren’s out there egging them on.

“don’t make me take back what i said.”

“about eren?” you ask, turning around to see jean. he’s drunker, too.

he walks around the island, eventually leaning his back against it as he positions himself in front of you.

“about being too smart. you’re still thinking about him, aren’t you?”

“no,” you sigh. “how did you know he just wanted to fuck me?”

“because that selfish prick can’t let me have anything for myself,” he growls. his grip on his cup tightens. it slightly indents under his pressure. “he just wanted to piss me off. i should fucking kill him.”

“what are you talking about?”

“c’mon,” he sets his cup down. jean pushes himself off the counter and leaves mere inches between the two of you. his forehead is hovering above yours. the warmth of his breath makes the hairs on your neck stand up.

“jean,” you whisper. you’ve never been so still in your life. afraid whatever this is might die, you hold your breath.

“you’re smart, (y/n), too damn smart,” he purrs. “use that brain of yours.”

the vibration in his dialect makes your heart race.

“i don’t understand why you keep calling me that,” your lips part.

jean’s fingers find yours. his brush gently along them, leaving a wake of goosebumps. “you knew what eren wanted but you still chose to get drunk. you got drunk and didn’t sleep with him, just to piss him off. i’m starting to think i might be a part of that plan. you want to make him jealous?”

you swallow the lump in your throat. chest heaving with butterflies, you nod.

“good,” jean replies. the space between your foreheads close. his skin is burning hot, warming your entire body. “because he was making me so fucking jealous,” he draws a finger along your jaw and stops at your chin, “dirty fucker had his hands on you.”

“jean,” it’s the only word you can speak. everything else is forgotten.

“i’ve wanted you for so long. do you know what that’s like?” he waits for you to shake your head before he continues, “maddening. and eren knew all about it.”

“why didn’t you say anything?”

“just wanted it to be perfect,” he whispers, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “and now it is, hmm? i get to piss him off by doing this.”

jean’s thumb and pointer finger center your chin as he draws in closer to you. without hesitation, your lips open slightly as his meet yours. they’re softer than you expected. it’s electric. warm hands snake around your waist, pulling you away from the counter. your brain is scrambled, all parts of you lost in jean.

he pulls back for a second, rubbing a thumb along your side. “can’t believe i let jaeger work me up this much,” he kisses your right cheek. “never been this fuckin’ jealous,” he kisses your left cheek.

“i can’t believe you’re jealous…because of me.”

“especially because of you.”

read my jean fic here

[dreamescapeswriting]

Tolerate It ~ BC

WORD COUNT: 3.1k

PAIRING: Chan x fem!Reader

GENRE: miscommunication trope, introverted reader, social butterfly chan, chan finding something on readers laptop, sad, crying chan, comforting, sweet, soft ending

⤜Copyright: © DreamEscapesWriting - April 2023

⤜MASTERLIST

When it came to being open in your thoughts and feelings sometimes it was harder for you to express through words you'd always sought comfort in writing music to express yourself. It was one of the many things that Chan loved about you, it was something the two of you had in common and would work on together a lot. Ever since you'd gotten together about two years ago you'd worked on music together. It had started out as nothing but a friendship but the more you worked together and the closer you got the more you found yourself falling in love with the man that was Bang Chan and it was the same vice versa.

The relationship had its beautiful moments but it also had its not-so-beautiful ones, which seemed to be taking up most of your relationship as of late. For the last two months things had been hit or miss with you and Chan, you knew what dating an idol was going to be like but you'd never expected to feel so out of a place in a world you thought you truly belonged in. 

You'd landed a pretty sweet job being a songwriter for a few bands in the kpop world but that also meant you and Chan were busy at separate times, so not every break you had he would have at the same time. While you always tried to make time for each other there were also times when it was incredibly hard to be away from him. Tonight was one of the rare times you were supposed to have a night together but he wasn't here to spend it with you and you bit down on your lip packing up your laptop and recording items. It had been a nice relaxing night in making music for yourself while he'd gone to a social event with a few of the producers and the boys to celebrate the end of their latest comeback. You didn't hate him for it and you never could, that was just a part of who he was. Chan was the social butterfly that knew and got along with almost everyone he seemed to come into contact with and he enjoyed going out to talk to new people while you didn't. 

Your ideal kind of night was a night in, with music or a movie, you felt comfortable being at home rather than surrounded by people but that was just you. Looking around the living room and up at the clock you realised there would be no point staying up too late for when he came home. There was a chance he wouldn't come home and just go to the dorms so he wouldn't wake you up anyway so you decided to shoot him a quick text.

You: [23:58]: Front door is locked up, remember to drink water before bed. I love you xx

A simple cute little text, something to remind him so he wouldn't get a hangover IF he was drinking and a note for him to remember his keys. You watched in excitement as your message went from "delivered" to "read" and you waited as the three little dots danced around on your screen your heart racing as you watched them. Part of you hoped he was taking so long to reply because he was going to tell you he'd be home soon but the dots continued to dance around, your smile beaming from ear to ear until they stopped and nothing came through leaving you with the little sentence "Read at 23:58" and your stomach sank a little. 

As of late things had been harder on you, maybe it was just you being a little dramatic over things but you were suddenly feeling neglected in your relationship. Was that even a thing? You had no idea but that's what it felt like. It felt as though Chan was moving on with his own life while you were left still holding onto the relationship you had together. Were things that different now he was too busy? You suddenly felt as though you were being placed on the back burner while he focused on more important aspects of his life and you hated that, that was how you felt. You knew none of it could be true, that he was just focused on his work and he had obligations to attend to. You wanted so badly to make your brain and your heart accept the fact that you weren't the only thing in his life important to him but sometimes it was hard to see the rational side of things. You despised how badly you wanted to speak to him about all of this but whenever you tried it was as though the words had died in your mouth. The conversations would go left unsaid, you'd pretend to be happy with not seeing him and he'd continue his life without noticing how much it pained you. It hurt to constantly feel as though you were taking up too much space and time in his life, that you were just something he HAD to deal with because he tolerated you being his girlfriend. Since you weren't able to directly express your feelings to Chan, you'd done what you knew best and wrote about it in a song. It was something you'd been working on for a few weeks now, it was nothing much. Just a demo for a solo artist who'd asked for a different example of your writing style, something that was different from her usual work and so you'd gotten to work on something while expressing your own thoughts and feelings.

You hadn't shown it to Chan, and despite normally showing him everything you were working on you suddenly felt the need to hide this project from him. 

It wasn't as though you felt guilty about it, you just didn't want him to think you were attacking him or maybe even trying to break up with him. The song felt like a diary to you, it was everything you'd been feeling for months now and were able to express it through your words and music.

"Angel, come." You patted your leg at the small black cat and watched as it rushed up the staircase and toward your shared bedroom. It was a small black stray cat that Minho had found and wanted to keep - only there were no pets allowed at the dorms so the little girl had been living with you for the last six months and you'd grown attached to her. Every night you'd fall asleep with her curled up between your legs or even sometimes sleeping on Chan's pillows on the nights he wasn't home.

"You miss daddy too, huh?" You whispered as you noticed her curling up into his side of the bed and rubbing her head against his sheets. You carefully sat down beside her and ran your hand over her soft fur, smiling weakly as you looked down at her.

"Things will be back to normal soon," You whispered before bending down and leaving a small kiss on top of her head before heading to the bathroom to get ready.

The next morning when you'd woken up, the only indication that Chan had been home was that his clothes from the night before were in the washing machine and the lunch you'd prepared for him for today was gone from the fridge. You sucked on your bottom lip as you took in the sight of the living room, something felt complete off like you'd lost something but you couldn't place your finger on what it was.

"Angel, breakfast." You called out, placing down a small bowlful of food and looked back into the living room. Everything was as it was but you were still unable to shake the unnerving feeling inside of you.

Meanwhile, Chan was listening to the song on your laptop at his studio his eyes beginning to sting with the tears that were building inside of them. In a rush this morning he'd grabbed your laptop bag instead of his own - that was the only issue with matching bags - and out of curiosity he went to see if any of his audio files were still on your laptop but was shocked when he saw something else on the screen. Normally the song you were focusing on was the only thing on your desktop screen but it was the title that surprised him.

"Tolerate it," was written in all caps on an audio file which was strange as Chan hadn't heard you mention working on anything new lately but then again he couldn't remember the last time the two of you had talked at length for a while. It was mostly quick conversations and the occasional kiss goodbye in the mornings or at night that he got now.

"I sit and watch you reading with your head low. I wake and watch you breathing with your eyes closed. I sit and watch you. I notice everything you do or don't do." With each piano chord you played a pang hit Chan in the chest, he had no idea how many times he'd replayed the demo he was listening to but he couldn't stop himself. Each and every word and verse hit him like a ton of bricks as he thought about everything between the two of you.

There were so many times when Chan had noticed that there was something off about you, so many times he wanted to stop everything and just ask you what was going on but he figured you'd come to him. Forgetting for a simple moment that you felt as though you couldn't express yourself properly unless it was through music or through written word and now he'd found it. It felt like he shouldn't be listening to it, it felt as though he was sneaking through a diary when he knew he shouldn't be but he couldn't stop himself.

"Lay the table with the fancy shit. And I watch you tolerate it." The piano continued to play as you sang along to the words written on a file on the screen while Chan's heart continued to crack. He could remember the moment you sang about, he'd been stressed all day when he came home one night and you'd been waiting for him. The table was set with candles and fancy place settings and yet he didn't appreciate any of the efforts you'd gone to, he'd just patiently sat and eaten with you until disappearing upstairs for a shower and into bed barely even thanking you for the nice meal you'd made.

"If it's all in my head, tell me now. Tell me I've got it wrong somehow. I know my love should be celebrated. But you tolerate it." The demo came to an end and he slowly ran his tongue along his bottom lip, shutting the laptop and staring down at the photo you had stuck to the back of it, it was one of you and him from the start of your relationship.

"Hyung, so I was thinking we could-" Jeongin was cut off by Chan rushing out of the door, shakily trying to put your laptop back into the case as he walked back to the elevator. He needed to get home to you, to talk about it, to hug you or just do something. His heart hammered against his chest and he was starting to sweat, never once in his life did he want you to believe that the love you had together was something he just tolerated and he needed to prove that to you.

"Thanks, Binnie, if you see him before I can get hold of him will you tell him we switched bags this morning," You laughed weakly as you looked down at Chan's laptop that was opening on the coffee table in the living room. Chan must have switched bags that morning and hadn't realised, no wonder you felt as though you'd lost something. Being away from your laptop always felt as though you were missing a part of yourself, seriously it had all of your music on it. Everything you'd ever worked on was stored on that thing.

"You're practically glued to your laptops, I'm surprised Chan-Hyung even grabbed the wrong one." Changbin chuckled through the phone. He was the first person you called that morning when you noticed the switch up since the two of them were nearly inseparable when it came to working together.

"Yeah, he must have been in a rush," You breathed out, rubbing the back of your neck as you ended the call and stood up to go and make a drink. Angel meowed at you, looking behind you but before you could turn to see what it was that piqued her interest you were suddenly being hugged from behind and you heard a small whimper. Your heart raced against your chest and you bit down on your lip, you hadn't even heard the front door to your place open,

"Chris?" You smiled a little happy that he'd come home when he realised he'd gotten the laptops wrong, your hands falling on top of his as you gave them a small squeeze.

"I thought you'd be at work by now," You giggled slowly turning around in his arms before freezing in place. Chan was crying and it wasn't like him to cry in front of anybody, the occasional little tears would fall but never like this. These were real tears, uncontrollable, never-ending tears, his eyes stained red as they streamed destructively down his cheeks.

"Did something happen? Are you hurt? Did you get in an accident?!" You panicked, running your hands over his cheeks and trying to get him to speak to you but it was like Chan couldn't find the words. He had no idea how to even start the conversation.

"I heard it," He choked out, staring down at you as a frown appeared on your face, your eyebrows pushing together as you shook your head confused as to what he was talking about.

"Heard what?" You questioned. Was it something on the radio? Had something been leaked from his laptop? Or something from his night out? You began to wonder what it was he could be talking about and he sniffled and rubbed his eyes.

"Talk to me Chan, I need to know what it is so I can make you stop crying," You pleaded with him but he shook his head at you, sniffling as he took in a deep breath trying to calm himself down.

"I heard your demo," Just like that it felt as though the ground had been swept out from under you and you and Chan were a million miles apart despite being right in front of him.

"My...My demo?" It was stupid to play dumb when he'd clearly already listened to the song and Chan sighed at you, leaning down and placing his forehead on yours.

"It's not all in your head," He said to you, repeating the words to your song and making your heart shatter. It was true, he was just tolerating you because he didn't know what else to do with you. Tears began to well up and Chan was quick to hold onto you and explain further,

"That night when you'd made an effort with dinner I did," He shook his head at himself, he was such an idiot that day. He'd known you'd been wanting a date night for a while and instead of taking you out, you'd made a nice night in for you both and he'd been the one to ruin it and cast doubt in your mind.

"That day I'd been so freaking stressed and I just took it out on you and I never meant to make you feel as though your love was something I just tolerated." He choked out, both of you sinking onto your knees on the floor in front of one another, his hands holding onto your waist as you touched his cheek. You did your best to wipe his tears away but they continued to stream and you whimpered suddenly throwing your arms around him and hiding in the crook of his neck while you both cried.

"I love you," He whispered, over and over again as you both sobbed into one another's embrace neither of you letting go. Chan's heart hammered against his chest as yours did the same, both of you letting out small sniffles as you held one another.

"I will never do anything to make you feel that way again," He promised, pulling away and running his hand over your cheek softly as he stared into your eyes.

"And I want you to try and come to me...The next time something get's too much for you. I know it's hard for you," He smiled weakly as you placed your hand atop his on your cheek, and you ran your thumb along his fingers.

"I promise I'll come to you." It would be hard for you but anything was better than seeing Chan break down like this in front of you.

"What did you think of the song though? Was it good?" You questioned when the two of you eventually calmed down, Chan raised a brow as he looked at you. How could you even ask that? Everything you ever did was the best of the best.

"Everything you did is better than good, baby. Who's it for?" He winked at you, he knew you'd never give up the artist's name until it was announced but it was always worth a shot.

"You'll find out in a week or two. She's going to come here to listen to the demo. You're friends," You explained to him, smirking a little as you noticed him beginning to think about everyone it could possibly be.

"If she's coming here, it's someone you're also close with and that's one a few." He teased softly while you poked his ribs making him laugh and whine out at you promising you he didn't mean it.

"You'll find out," You promised, leaning up and kissing him softly before smiling at him and holding his hand in yours. There was something you needed to make sure of first though,

"But you're okay with me releasing it? You know that now we've spoken about it I don't believe what I wrote...but are you okay with me putting it out there?" Chan looked at you and frowned. You could write whatever you wanted, whenever you wanted weather it was about him or not and you could put it out there.

"It's your song, your music. You do whatever you want baby. I'm fine with it. It's not down to me, it's down to you." He told you before kissing you softly, dragging you closer to him as you made out on the sofa.

Tagline: @chiisaiblog @hanasonmi @sw33tnight @taestannie @illicee @army24--7 @acciocriativity @scarletemeterio @halesandy @aerastus @aerastus @lost-leopard-beanie @laylasbunbunny @critssq​ @pearlygraysky​ @lenfilms​ @btsiguess-kpop​ @meowmeowisdaname​ @imafivestarkpopstan​

[milaisreading]

🌱🩷: this was a request from @yukiimasked and it's basically where Karasu met manager!Yn's family. Post Blue Lock timeline, btw

Warnings: Reader uses she/her. Requests are open

⚽️Bleu lock belongs to Muneyuki Kaneshiro and Yusuke Nomura ⚽️

"Tabito, are you alright?" (Y/n) yawned as she walked into the shared apartment, only to find the pro-player frozen in the hallway.

"Huh? Oh, yeah. I am great, don't worry." Karasu gulped nervously and slowly walked to the living room.

'Was practice bad today?' She wondered and put her stuff away to follow him.

"I can tell from a mile away that you aren't doing well. What happened, Tabito? Did something happen at practice?" (Y/n) asked softly as she sat with him on the couch, hugging his arm.

'What is he so tense about? He was more relaxed during the World Cup...' She thought while waiting for the boy to finally speak up again. Karasu kept quiet for a good 5 minutes, looking around the room and at (Y/n). She really didn't understand what the issue was. Karasu was doing alright the whole morning.

'Was...was he maybe breaking up with me?' She gulped in fear as Karasu got up and out of her hold.

"(Y/n)... I... don't think I can do it." Karasu said, looking at her in desperation. Thr girl felt her heart break in two, afraid that her thoughts really came true.

"Wh-what?! Are you... breaking up-"

"No! No, I would never do that! You know I love you more than football even." Karasu said quickly, realizing that his wording was very bad. So, out of guilt for the distress he caused, Karasu walked up to her and gently took her hands into his, gently giving them a squeeze.

"I am sorry for what I said, what I meant was your family... They are coming over to Paris next week, and I am just too nervous to meet them." Karasu gulped as (Y/n) blinked a few times, relief washing over her form that this was his main worry.

"Oh, that. You are that nervous?" (Y/n) questioned, earning a nod from Karasu. It was rare to see him so vulnerable and distressed.

"Yeah, I really want to be with you! Heck, I want to marry you in the near future, but... but what if your father doesn't like me? What if he demands for a break up."

'Wow... that was a lot at once. Wait! He said he wants to marry me?!' (Y/n) felt a small spark of happiness light up inside her, but she decided to let this slide for now. Comforting Karasu was more important. She gently smiled and got up to hug him, something he gladly returned.

"Listen, I know it's an intimidating moment, I met your parents and know what you feel. Just know that I will be by your side, ok?" She smiled up gently at him. Karasu took a few minutes, but eventually nodded his head, kissing her on the forehead.

"Ok. I think I can do that."

A week later...

'I absolutely can not do this!' Karasu gulped as he sat across (Y/n)'s father and brother at the table. Isabella, her sister-in-law, and (Y/n) tried to make the situation less tense by some all talk, but it wasn't working as well as they expected.

"Oh! It seems like the chicken just finished cooking! I will check on it." Isabella laughed nervously and quickly ran into the kitchen. (Y/n) found the whole situation amusing for a moment, but then felt Karasu grip her hand under the table. She looked over at the boy and sent him a gentle smile.

"So, Karasu, what are your plans with my sister?" The two turned to look at the brother, who had a murderous look on his face.

"I am interested as well. Especially since she moved to France for you." Her father suddenly spoke up, which surprised Karasu a little. The man was quiet the whole night.

"You two are being too much now." (Y/n) sighed in annoyance.

"Uh... it's fine." Karasu spoke up as (Y/n) and the other 2 males looked at Karasu.

"Tabito..." (Y/n) gulped nervously as the other looked straight at the 2.

"I really love (Y/n), and words can never describe how much I do. I also can't properly express how much I want to be with her and protect her." Karasu took a deep breath, trying to ignore the intense stares from the older men. (Y/n) was meanwhile shocked at his words, he never said these things so openly.

"I do plan on marrying (Y/n) eventually, after we are both stable in our careers. I hope you all can eventually accept me into the family, I will be patient with that. I really want us to get along, if not for me, then for (Y/n). She deserves it, and much more." By now, the couple was blushing in embarrassment. Karasu didn't plan on being so open with his thoughts in front of (Y/n)'s family, and neither was she. But... she couldn't deny the small amount of happiness she felt from his words.

'He cares that much, huh...' (Y/n) smiled warmly at him.

"Aha. Well, I can't say I am happy with this relationship." The father cleared his throat, catching their attention.

"Dad-"

"But, I will give you a chance. I can see you love and care for her." The elder finished, earning a sigh of relief from Karasu and a grateful smile from (Y/n).

"Same goes for me. You have my approval for now, Karasu. But, if you break my sister's heart I will break your leg. Don't test me." The brother spoke up, his glare more intense at the end.

"I won't ever hurt her, so no need to joke about the leg breaking." Karasu laughed nervously.

"I wasn't joking." The brother said more sternly this time, interrupting Karasu's laughing.

"He really wasn't, Tabito." (Y/n) confirmed, caressing his knuckles.

"Oh..."

[writingescapades]

Relationship Headcanons

Lies of P

P x gn reader

I wanted to post this on Valentines day, but did not have the chance.

Imagine though, how wonderful it is to have someone like P in your life. If you are someone who finds yourself on the outside of societal norms. If your understanding of love and relationships (both romantic and otherwise) is different. If you identify yourself with some label or identity, or if you are someone who lives without them. If you’re someone who knows that deep down, the conventions of love, romance, relationships, marriage, etc. don’t make any sense to you. If you feel a disconnect, somewhere, somehow, in any part of life—how wonderful P would be.

Imagine meeting P and seeing how he engages and learns from the world. How unassuming he is. How readily he accepts diversity. It’s because he doesn’t know any better, would the logical and rational answer. But how many times have you seen his face, the curiosity yet the distance, and felt you saw a mirror?

How easy it must be to become close to P. There’s no fear of him hurting you, using you, or taking advantage of you. He doesn’t approach you with expectations framing your every reaction. You can stay friends your whole life, and he’d be happy.

But if you do pursue a relationship, how comfortable it would be to walk that path with him. Slow, at a pace that suits both of you. A relationship that’s in no rush to go anywhere because the individuals just rejoice in being around one another. Patience defines the relationship. You with him as he comes to terms with who he is and what he wants. Him with you as you figure out what it means to have one person in your life that captures your attention with an intensity that pushes the boundaries of “just friends”.

Fun also defines the relationship. Becoming more human means taking on more of Carlo’s traits. The teasing lies, the harmless pranks, the games that are made up on the spot but make you both chuckle. The dramatics.

He doesn’t expect anything from you other than you, as you are. No expectations based on gender, race, culture, age, etc. The fact that you, a human, are alive in Krat; the fact that you want him and seek him out is enough. Poor boy never had that from anyone.

He would never make you uncomfortable, mainly because he waits for you to decide what you want to do in the relationship and how you want to build it. Despite being lied to and betrayed by almost every character in the game (in some way), he still comes to you with full trust. His heart is new, but yours is fragile. Don’t betray it.

And on those days where you feel very disjointed from the world, on those low days, if you let him in, he’ll show you just how normal you are. Those days where you feel like you belong neither here nor there, where you don’t understand what is and isn’t socially right, when your heckled too much for being different, he’ll sit near you and show his rare smile. Of course he understands what you struggle to communicate. He just points to himself and says, “neither puppet nor human”.

You both will create your own world, your own understanding of it, and your own engagement with it. Yes, he really is a wonderful person to create a world with.

[farfromstrange]

Hey can I make a Matt Murdock request. It's Matt and reader's wedding day, and Matt remembers how you met in st. Agnes , the little adventures you had and how sister Maggie caught you trying to sneak out which sometimes worked out

I want to apologize for taking so long to write this! I'm so sorry. I just spent the past four hours pouring my whole soul into this because this request was just so beautiful... Like seriously, I have tears in my eyes. I listened to a lot of love songs while writing this, and I hope I could match up with your expectations. Thank you for your request and enjoy! <3

You Are The Best Thing That's Ever Been Mine | Matt Murdock x Reader

Masterlist

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Reader

Summary: On the day of your wedding, Matt thinks back to your time together at the orphanage.

Warnings: None. Tooth-rotting fluff. (not proofread though)

Word Count: ~6.8k (oops)

The church bells play an all too familiar tune. It echoes off the high walls that are adorned with colorful paintings and stone sculptures that are as old as time. Clinton Church stands taller than he is, but he doesn’t feel suffocated by it, not today.

Matt Murdock grew up on religion and has lived by his faith in God ever since. He fell into several dark holes over time, but he crawled out of them and he picked himself up again. He played this tiring game for a while. He never felt like he truly belonged anywhere. He was lost. And then you stepped back into his life.

After his father died and he was taken in by the St. Agnes orphanage in Hell’s Kitchen, Matt had more than just his grief to deal with. The accident that blinded him a year prior turned his life upside down and no one knew.

His father knew he was blind, of course, but no one knew about how he could suddenly smell or hear much better than before, and that it was worse than the usual enhancement of one’s senses after becoming blind. His senses became heightened to the point he could pick up everything around him with his ears, nose, and hands alone.

It has been the most exhausting experience, especially as a little boy, he thought about giving up many times because it confused him and it made him bitter, and then his father died and the only person he could trust was gone, too.

He felt so utterly alone, he had nightmares, he was traumatized and the children at the orphanage didn’t like him much, either. He was a broken boy, and he had no one to turn to but the sisters taking care of him. But after a while, even that support stopped when more children arrived, and he chose to fight this battle on his own. He didn’t want to bother anyone. He was lonely, but he accepted that he just wasn’t that important and that sometimes, life goes a certain way.

Matt told himself God blinded him for a reason. He tried to find a purpose in his heightened senses and whatever else came with the accident and his father’s wrongful death, but with each passing day in this small bedroom with the church bells ringing in the background, causing his head to spin with their audacity, he lost more and more of the hope he swore himself he would keep. He wasn’t just alone, he adopted this feeling of loneliness and ran with it, turning more and more into an outsider. But he also had nothing to show for himself as the other kids did. He was blind, he was different, and that was never appreciated.

One day though, after spending most of his time hiding away in a corner, listening to the people around him and judging them in his own way, a set of small footsteps approached where he was sitting in the garden behind the orphanage.

He remembers the way your dress brushed against your tights, a sound he found annoying and painful at first, but he quickly got used to it. He remembers how you walked up to him with almost determined steps after Sister Maggie showed you the way and dropped you there for you to explore. He remembers your little sigh when you realized how far away he was from the other kids, but you didn’t turn around and leave when you noticed his black-rimmed glasses or the cane next to him.

You stopped in front of him, and Matt did not once forget the sound of your voice when you first spoke to him, “Is this seat taken?” he remembers you asking, and you sounded a lot nicer than the other children.

He frowned, at first, because he wasn’t used to being talked to. He figured you must be playing with him. But you didn’t stop there.

You chose to sit down next to him, and you smiled when you said, “I like your glasses, by the way.”

He remembers turning his head in your direction, signaling he was listening. You took that as an invitation to introduce yourself. Your name rolled beautifully off your tongue, and he stored it away instantly, along with the sound of your voice.

“I’m Matt,” he chose to tell you.

You smiled even brighter and took his hand, shaking it. “Nice to meet you, Matt,” you said.

Eight years, that’s how long you stayed. And during those eight years, you became inseparable. He confided in you about his heightened senses, and when Stick came around and left as fast as he had appeared, you were the one who picked up his broken pieces.

The first field trip you took together was to Central Park. The sun was shining brightly that day. Sister Maggie and some of the other nuns accompanied your group, and you quickly found your spot next to Matt. It was the first time he wasn't stuck with an adult during a day out, and he was so flustered, he remembers forgetting his words when your cheery nature found a place next to him.

Your heart has always been a steady sound in his ear, and back then, it grounded him whenever he had to face situations that made him uneasy. Field trips held so many different sensations that overwhelmed him, and he often felt as if his disability wasn't taken very seriously, but with you by his side, he could actually feel the sun on his skin rather than the heavy lump in his throat. He didn't want to cry on the way there; he listened to the beautiful sound of your voice, your laughter, and your excitement both infectious enough to make him smile, and it's something he swore he would always cherish. You had a talent, and he was the only one you used it on.

“Hey,” he remembers you saying when he was hiding away at the back of the group once again. You reached out to gently take his hand. “Don't worry, I'll be your guide today,” you said.

It wasn't pity, you actually enjoyed doing this for him. Even though it was hot outside, he ignored the sweat simply to hold your hand.

“What if…I get lost?” he remembers asking you, and you laughed at that-

You squeezed his hand reassuringly. “I've got you. Trust me.”

As you strolled through the park, you described everything you saw. You walked him through it the way you saw it, and he imagined how the world looked like through your eyes.

“The sky is so blue, Matt,” you said, pointing upward. “It stretches out like an endless canvas. And the clouds are little white specks of color that take different shapes wherever you look.”

Matt tilted his head, a small smile gracing his lips. “I wish I could see it.” It was the first time he actively admitted it to you, and your heart broke a little.

“But you can feel it,” you instantly tried to make him feel better. “The warmth of the sun on your skin, the gentle breeze ruffling your hair. You can smell the flowers. It's all there. Sight is so overrated, anyway.”

He stored your advice for another day, knowing that you weren't wrong. Next, you stopped near a bed of colorful flowers. You crouched down and reached out, picking one. The scent seemed familiar.

“Close your eyes and breathe in,” you instructed, holding the flower near his nose.

Matt followed your guidance, inhaling the sweet scent. “It's… it's beautiful,” he said.

“You see, Matt,” you said, “Beauty isn't just in what we see. It's in the little things we discover along the way.”

For someone who lost so much, you were a true optimist. You breathed fresh air into his life.

With each step, you continued to describe the vibrant colors, the rustling leaves, and the laughter of children in the distance. Matt's trust in you grew, and he found solace in the world you painted for him.

Of course, he could hear, smell and feel everything down to the smallest detail, but the way you described it was so different from the picture he had painted before, and he let you change his perspective. Your view of the world was much more beautiful than his, and he rather lived in a fairytale than take everything too seriously. With you, he could be himself. That was the first day he came to that realization, and his loneliness slowly started to die out.

That day, as you explored the park hand in hand, Matt realized that his blindness didn't define him. With you by his side, he discovered a newfound appreciation for the world and the beauty that could be found in even the smallest details.

The months passed by and turned into years, and you grew closer as friends. During the times you were allowed to play together, you never left each other’s sides, much to some of the nuns’ dismay, but Sister Maggie was the one who encouraged Matt to tie himself to you so he wouldn’t be as alone, and he gladly did it every time. She saw something in you that he could feel with every one of your fleeting touches and the sound of your voice, and your friendship became a lifeline he kept holding onto. But he was yours, too, which you told him many times before, and he told you he would be more than happy to show you the world through his senses. He made you feel seen and appreciated in a way no one has before, a job he took seriously enough to somehow take permanent residency in your life–but you wouldn’t have had it any other way.

The summer sun beat down on the small group of children from the orphanage as you made your way to a nearby lake. Sister Maggie never struggled to control the group and she was one of the nicer sisters who allowed you to do silly things others didn't, so you often used that to your advantage.

Being friends with Matt for three years, you gradually figured out who he is, and in return, you revealed parts of yourself. You were the duo most kids feared, which was one of the reasons why the boys stopped picking on him, and the girls had never even dared to say a bad thing about you. Still, you were the weird outcasts who always hung out together; you both prided yourself on that title and often made fun of it.

Laughter filled the air as you excitedly chatted about the day's adventure. Matt walked beside you, his cane tapping gently on the ground. His other hand rested on your arm. He didn't need it, he once admitted to you, but he still felt safer and more grounded, knowing he could hold onto someone in case something happened.

As you approached the shimmering lake, you couldn't help but notice Matt's hesitance. You turned to him with a mischievous grin.

“Hey, Matt,” you said, nudging his arm playfully. “Remember the promise we made when we were little? That we'd jump in a lake together someday?”

Matt's lips curled into a shy smile. “Yeah, I remember. But… I can't swim,” he said. “What if something goes wrong?”

You patted his back reassuringly. “You're not alone, are you?”

With newfound determination, Matt nodded, placing his trust in you once again. The cool breeze kissed your cheeks as you waded into the lake, the water lapping at your feet.

You turned to Matt, splashing water playfully. “Come on, Matt! The water feels amazing!”

He remembers the goosebumps on his skin, the eagerness in your voice. His uncertainty melted away when you reached out to help him inside somewhere he could stand, and he felt a little less scared about his ability to control the setting. With hesitant steps, he followed you, the soft sand beneath his feet giving way to gentle ripples in the water.

As you both ventured deeper, you guided Matt's hand to your shoulder, urging him to relax and float. “Just trust me,” you said.

Little did you know that he trusted you with his life already.

He took a deep breath, his body relaxing as he felt the water supporting him. A surge of joy filled your heart as you watched his confidence grow. You took his other hand, spinning in the water together, laughter echoing across the lake. He might have been standing on the sandy ground of the lake, but it still reminded him of the times his father took him to the pool. Sharing this moment with you felt… different, but in a good way, and he slowly started to warm up to the idea of enjoying a day in the water. You were always careful with him, and he knew you would never let him drown.

Time seemed to stand still. The world around you faded away, leaving only the two of you and the tranquility of the lake. The other children moved into the background, and Sister Maggie's pleas for you to be careful or even better, get out, met deaf ears as you got lost in each other's eyes. You were only twelve then, but it was like that day changed a lot in the way he felt about you, which is why he remembers that day vividly, still. You made him feel so alive that day, and it's a feeling he still gets whenever he looks into your beautiful eyes.

Matt's voice broke the peaceful silence, barely above a whisper. He said your name softly, something that always managed to make you smile. “This feels… it feels like a dream,” he said.

The warmth of the sun on your face mirrored the warmth in your heart. “No, Matt, this is real,” you told him. “This is our moment. And it's ours to keep.”

As you floated side by side, surrounded by the serenity of the lake, you both realized that this connection, this friendship, was something precious and unbreakable. Life without you seemed like an impossibility to him.

One month turned into twenty-four. You were teenagers, he remembers when your mischief took on a new size. You would appear in front of his door at random hours of the night, tapping on his door three times, before leaning against the wall. He would put on his shoes and grab his cane before making his way outside.

The first time it happened, he hissed at you, “Are you insane?! What if we get caught? Sister Maggie would ground us for the rest of our lives! Oh God–”

You cut him off with a giggle and told him, “We only live once, Matthew, and I am tired of spending every last minute of my life in this place. I wanna live! Please, just trust me. I have a plan.”

And from there on, you would sneak out any other night. You always found spots in nature for you to sit down and talk without people around. You shared stories, laughed, and cried together, and it worked as glue. You became even more inseparable.

Sometimes, you would take him to the lake, sit down with him and describe the night sky to him. You would point out constellations, tell him the meaning behind them and fantasize about life beyond what you could see. He was quick to dispute it because there could only be one God, so there couldn’t be any other universes out there, and once again you only laughed.

You both had a different take on religion; he’s always considered you a dreamer, and you never changed, which he found endearing because you believed in what you wanted to believe in, always. And you made sure you always got what you wanted.

You always snuck past Sister Maggie’s room and made it back in time. It worked almost always, except for the days when someone else was in charge of supervising you, and then you would have to wait until everyone was asleep to tap a steady rhythm against the thin wall of your dormitory.

The sole reason you learned Morse code was to communicate with Matt, knowing he could hear you wherever. In a time before everyone had a cell phone, it was your way of staying in contact.

A few more years passed. You both started maturing, growing up, and going through changes. Life became harder, but you stayed together. Your friendship blossomed, you continued to sneak out, and the one-time Sister Maggie caught you, she simply rolled her eyes and sent you back to your rooms.

That one pivotal night though when you were both sixteen and carefree, the night shimmered with an air of excitement as you sat by the peaceful lake by the orphanage, engrossed in Matt's animated storytelling. His voice had dropped sometime over the past year and it was a sound that would always send shivers down your spine.

He was full of enthusiasm as he shared the details of his latest discovery while he was doing research for a school presentation. You found yourself focused on his hands and his lips rather than the story, and the sound of his voice sent shivers down your spine. When you looked into his eyes, his glasses long discarded, you seemed to realize something, and the silence from your end alarmed your friend.

Amidst the excitement in his voice, a new realization took hold. Matt was more than just your best friend; an undeniable connection went beyond friendship.

Caught amid this realization, you found yourself lost in the features of his face, your mind spinning. Matt's voice trailed off, and he noticed your gaze fixed on him, a puzzled expression crossing his face.

“What's wrong?” he asked. “Is there something on my face?”

Your mind raced to catch up with your feelings. Without uttering a word, you leaned forward, closing the distance between you, and pressed your lips against his. It was a spontaneous and slightly awkward first kiss, but Matt remembers every last second of it.

For a moment, the world paused, and you both froze, the realization of what had just happened sinking in. Uncertainty hung in the air, but then Matt's hand gently cupped your cheek, his touch gentle and comforting. He traced your features, and they were so vulnerable and delicate that night.

He remembers swallowing, the panic that sent the blood rushing to his cheeks, and the strange change in the rhythm of your beating heart. “I, uh…” Matt tried to find the right words, but his mind was blank. Your lips left a tingling sensation on his own, and he somehow couldn't comprehend what was happening to his body. It was confusing. “That was… unexpected,” he said.

You felt mixed emotions swirling within you, but the desire to explore this newfound connection outweighed any awkwardness. Without hesitation, you leaned back in and kissed him again, this time more confidently, allowing yourself to get lost in the moment.

The awkwardness quickly melted away when Matt finally realized what he wanted, too. Your lips moved in harmony, exploring the tender and unfamiliar territory you found yourselves on.

The touch of Matt's lips against yours sent electric currents through your veins, and the world around you faded away, leaving only the two of you.

Eventually, you pulled away, breathless and wide-eyed.

“I… I don't know what to say,” he confessed.

You smiled at him. “Do we need to say anything?” you retorted.

Matt remembers the exact moment he realized that he fell fast and hard for you; it wasn't the kiss that proved his feelings for you, it was what happened after. You looked at him, brushed a strand of hair out of his face, and told him, “You're beautiful, Matthew. Inside and out.”

And that was the moment he first knew he loved you more than just a best friend. He would have walked through fire for you, and it was never a doubt in his mind. The realization hit him hard, but he somehow never questioned it. He realized he loved you, and from that moment on, he rolled with it.

Matt remembers that he only acted after hearing you say those words. He told you, “Says the most beautiful girl in this godforsaken place.”

He gently pulled you back into his embrace, his lips finding yours once more. You couldn't even berate him for the blasphemy because he was right, and you smiled against his lips; this was the day you both finally found a home.

A few years had passed since that fateful night by the lake, and your bond with Matt grew stronger.

On this particular night, you found yourselves drawn to the library. The quiet stillness of the space provided a temporary escape.

As you settled into a hidden corner, the soft glow of the moon filtered through the window. You found solace in each other's arms, curled into a corner on the window sill. Matt's arms were wrapped around you and he held you as tightly as he could.

His lips ghosted over yours and you kissed back. He sighed into your mouth, his large hand on your cheek holding you right there. “I wish I could stay with you,” you murmured.

He nuzzled his nose against yours. “You know that's not a good idea,” he said.

“Why though?”

“For one, we'd get caught and two,” his hand stopped at your neck, feeling your pulse jump and he sighed, “I wouldn't be able to keep my hands off of you.”

Your cheeks flushed a bright red, and just as you're about to kiss him again (damn his silver tongue), he stops you with the same hand that's on your throat. “Sister Maggie,” he said.

Your heart skipped a beat as you turned to see Sister Maggie standing at the entrance of the library, her expression a mix of surprise, disappointment, and disapproval. The realization of the rules you were breaking washed over you.

You shot up into a sitting position and Matt followed suit. You had never been so ashamed in your entire life.

Sister Maggie's eyes flitted between you and Matt. The disapproving silence hung heavy in the air before she finally spoke.

“You two,” she said. “What on earth are you doing?”

“We, um…” You bit your lip. “We weren't doing anything, I promise!”

Matt quickly adjusted his shirt and agreed, “We're so sorry, sister.”

He remembers faintly how she lifted her finger. “I expected better from the two of you,” she continued. “As young adults, you should understand the importance of adhering to the rules and maintaining appropriate behavior within these walls. And in front of God? I taught you better than that! Up, both of you!”

Neither of you hesitated to get off the window sill. She approached you both. “Now, I suggest you both leave this library immediately and return to your rooms. There will be no further discussions about this matter.”

Her words cut deep, but you tended to forget where you were living sometimes. You exchanged a glance.

“You're lucky it was me who found you,” she said. “Now go! I don't want to see either of you wandering these walls at night ever again, are we clear?”

You nodded wildly. While you said, “Yes, Sister Maggie,” Matt found himself at a loss for words.

Without uttering another word, you followed Sister Maggie's order, slowly making your way out of the library. Each step felt like a punishment, he remembers.

Her actions had made it clear that the boundaries between friendship and romance were not to be crossed within the confines of the orphanage. You had to live with that.

Though once you were out of her earshot, your giggles filled the hallway, and Matt pinched your arm. “It's not funny,” he whispered.

You couldn't help but giggle again. He's always loved how you could laugh about everything. “I know, I know,” you said to him, trying to stifle your laughter. “But the look on Sister Maggie's face… I can't help it.”

Matt shook his head. “You're going to get us into even more trouble if you don't stop.”

You sobered up, realizing the truth in his words, and you both fell into a comfortable silence as you walked back to your rooms. The echoes of Sister Maggie's disapproval still lingered, a reminder of the boundaries that governed your lives.

As you reached the hallway that led to your respective rooms, you paused, facing each other. The dim light from the hallway cast soft shadows on your faces. You longed for him. Just one night with him would have fixed both of your sleep habits and it would have done you good, but you knew you had to part ways. It hurt, but it was a reality you came to live with.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered again. “I didn't mean to get us into trouble.”

Matt's expression softened as he reached out to gently touch your cheek. He made sure no one was around so he could touch you one last time, at least. “It's not entirely your fault,” he said. “We both got carried away.”

You nodded. “We should be more careful. We don't want to risk getting separated, do we?”

Never, he remembers thinking. Getting separated had sounded like torture then. “You're right,” he agreed. “We'll have to be more cautious from now on. It's not worth putting our future at risk.”

A mixture of disappointment and longing settled in your heart as you prepared to part ways for the night.

You hoped your relationship could survive this.

With a lingering touch, you both turned and retreated to your respective rooms, the weight of the night's events etching themselves into your memories.

You both knew the boundaries were in place for a reason and though it pained you, you were willing to respect them. You had to. You grew up there. The stolen moments and the unspoken promises would have to find solace in the hidden corners of your hearts until the time was right to let them flourish fully. At least that was what you told yourselves for the following 365 days.

When you turned eighteen and finished school, everything changed. Matt remembers that day as trauma, and maybe it partly was.

One day, as you returned from school, Sister Margaret approached you with a warm smile, handing you an envelope.

“Congratulations, dear,” she said. “A letter from Stanford arrived for you today.”

You froze.

Entering your room, you found Matt sitting on your bed, his head turning toward you as you entered. He sensed the strange weight in your hands, the unshed tears in your eyes, and his smile faded. “What's in your hands?” he asked.

You took a deep breath, summoning the courage to speak. Your heart dropped, he could hear it. And that was when you told him, “It’s a letter from Stanford.”

Silence hung in the air as Matt absorbed your words. This wasn't what you had planned together, and his world seemed to stop right then and there.

“Why didn't you tell me you applied?” Matt's voice held a touch of hurt.

Your heart sank, knowing that this was a conversation you couldn't avoid. “I didn't know how to bring it up,” you admitted. “I was scared… scared of what it would mean for us.”

His brows furrowed. “What does it mean for us? Are you planning to leave? We said we’d go to Columbia, why–Is this no longer something you want? Us? You and me, going to college together?”

Tears welled up in your eyes, and you rushed to explain, “No, Matt, it's not like that! I love you, and I want to be with you. But Stanford… it's an opportunity I've always dreamed of. I don't want to live with regrets if I don't even try. It's… it's a full-ride scholarship, Matty. It's not just an acceptance letter, it's an offer.”

He was happy for you, and in hindsight, he should have reacted differently, but he was so hurt. He looked away, his fingers gripping the edge of the bed. “But what about us?” he asked. “What about the plans we made? We made all these plans for the future…”

Unshed tears glisten in his unfocused eyes, and he could tell it broke you just the same to tell him.

“I don't want to lose you, Matt,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. The letter weighed heavy in your hands. “But I also can't ignore my dreams.”

“I won't ask you to give up your dreams for me. You know I wouldn't, but… I can't help feeling like you're just going down a path so far from mine, and… it scares me.”

The room filled with a heavy silence. The realization that a difficult decision lay ahead threatened to tear at the fabric of your love. You were so young, so naive, but you have always known just exactly what you wanted.

“I don't want to lose you,” you whispered, repeating your previous sentiment. “Maybe… maybe we can make it work, despite the distance.” Your eyes lit up, but the hope felt tainted. “We can try, right? We can promise to support each other and keep our love alive, even if we're apart.”

Matt's gaze softened. “I want to believe that,” he said, “but it won't be easy. We'll have to fight against the odds. Are we strong enough for that?”

“We'll never know if we don't try,” you said. “We owe it to ourselves to give it a chance.”

He took a deep breath, then opened his arms for you as so often and held you as you cried, not sure if out of sadness or excitement, but that stupid letter to Stanford was bound to change everything.

When you moved away to college, leaving New York and Matt behind, the contact you promised to keep up faded eventually. He got into law school, you made a living for yourself, your calls eventually stopped, no more letters or gifts, and after one particularly rough night of partying, that was it. You ended it.

Eight years washed down the drain because life has funny ways of breaking people apart. At first, Matt was sad, but he learned to move on and eventually became a lawyer, found friends, and moved on the same way you seemed to have done all those years ago.

But there came a time when he least expected it, and you promptly bumped into him in a courthouse in Hell’s Kitchen. Matt recognized you almost instantly from the sound of your voice alone, and even though he grew up and aged like fine wine, you called his name the second you looked into his red glasses.

As you locked eyes, the memories of your past came rushing back for both of you. It was pouring rain outside. Your hair stuck to your face as so did his, but he was still the same Matt from before, only older, and you also hadn't changed much.

“Matt?” you whispered in disbelief.

A flicker of recognition crossed his face, his hand resting on your arm. “Is it really you?” he asked after calling your name.

A bittersweet smile graced your lips as you nodded. “It's me,” you replied softly. “I never thought I'd see you again. How- how have you been?”

He told you about his practice, he remembers, and you listened closely. You told him you were proud of him and then you told him about med school and how you were a resident now, but a slot opened up in Hell's Kitchen for a fellowship and you chose to move again. It was fate, almost.

His gaze softened as he listened to your breathing, feeling your soft skin under his fingertips, and the feelings he had pushed down for so long resurfaced. “I thought about you often,” he remembers dropping on you the second he caught his breath again

“I'm sorry,” you whispered back to him. “I let life get in the way, and I let go of something so special. I will never forgive myself for how we ended. I… we… I cared about you, Matthew. It wasn't just some stupid childhood fling for me.”

Matt's hand reached out, his fingers gently brushing against yours. “We both made mistakes. We should have worked harder, it's not…You're not the only one who fucked up, so…”

You licked your lips. “We were too young,” you said.

“Yeah,” he instantly agreed without missing a beat, “We were. And a little dumb, maybe.”

You chuckled, tears welling up in your eyes as you looked into his eyes. “I've missed you,” you confessed. “I've missed us.”

“I've missed you too. Us. But especially you.”

The courthouse buzzed with activity around you, the hustle and bustle of lawyers, judges, and clients filling the air. But at that moment, it felt as if time stood still, and it was just the two of you. It reminded you of your childhood when you would spend time at the water together, whispering hushed promises underneath the night sky.

“Let's start over,” you suggested. And then you reintroduced yourself, telling him your name with that wonderful smile of yours, and he was enchanted all over again.

A smile tugged at the corners of Matt's lips, too, as he reached out to take your hand. “Matt Murdock,” he said. “Nice meeting you.”

That was the day everything changed. To think that day lies three years in the past now is something he still hasn’t wrapped his mind around, but fate brought you back together, and after months of pining and him hiding who he truly is to no avail, you finally took the first step.

You accepted that he is Daredevil without second-guessing or being mad at him. You walked through hell with him and you came out on the other side stronger than before, and Matt realized soon enough that he could never love someone as much as he loves you.

And on a beautiful Saturday in June, he asked you to marry him at the same lake you used to hide out as kids. You said yes, of course. He feared for a moment you wouldn’t, but you jumped into his arms as soon as he got on his knees, and the deal was sealed.

Matt can’t see, that is no secret. He thought it might ruin your wedding experience, but you reassured him you didn’t care about whether or not his eyes fell out of his head when you would walk down the aisle. He wishes he could see you in your dress, but he has made peace with the fact he couldn’t.

As he’s standing in the small room hidden away in Clinton Church now, nervously fiddling with the flower stuck to his suit jacket, he can’t help but recall all the little moments you shared while you were growing up, and how fate brought you back together when you both needed it the most. You picked each other up, and you saved each other’s lives.

You asked one of your bridesmaids to tell him to wait right there, and he has been standing there, looking out of the window at the small lake in the distance for a while now. He wonders what you’re doing, but Foggy told him to be patient, so he tries to swallow his curiosity and waits some more.

He never thought he would get married, but he remembers thinking one night as a boy that if he ever got married, he would only get married to you.

As the anticipation builds up, Matt's heart races with a mixture of excitement and nervousness. He can hear the distant sound of footsteps approaching, followed by your heartbeat. You smell like flowers and vanilla, and the fabric brushing against your legs sounds soft, almost like his silk sheets.

The door to the small room creaks open, finally, and he holds his breath, bracing himself for the sight he would never be able to see. And then, there you are, standing at the doorway. Your dress, carefully chosen and adorned, flows elegantly around you. It's silk with lace adorning the top, but you made sure that it would feel nice to him and look good on you, still.

Matt's senses heighten when you enter, capturing every detail he can possibly perceive. Most of all though, he memorizes your heartbeat once again and takes a good whiff of the beautiful scent you carry with yourself. You are one hundred percent yourself and he has never been more in love.

Today, you don't have to sneak around or hide away, even though it still feels like it, in this room secluded from everyone else, and his heart races faster when he thinks about how full circle this moment feels.

You take a step closer, your footsteps soft against the floor. You're wearing heels, but you seem to walk comfortably in them. Matt's heart skips a beat when he hears your voice. "Matthew," you breathe. "I'm here."

With a gentle smile, you extend your hand. Matt reaches out, intertwining your fingers. You close in on him until you're right in front of him, and he blinks as if he can't believe it. You remove his glasses, tears already forming in his eyes from how many emotions crash into him, but you don't feel much better. Seeing his brown eyes search yours, you swallow the lump in your throat, and you try not to start sobbing right then and there.

Your pulse jumps under his fingers; he chuckles because it seems ironic that you're more nervous than him, so beautiful and innocent. You're his everything, his world, the reason he's still alive, and he can never repay you for all you've done for him.

His fingertips graze the delicate fabric of your dress. He traces the intricate patterns, feeling the smoothness and intricacy, the silk and the lace. You guide him a little, building up his confidence. He feels the slit that runs down your leg, the garter belt you're wearing, and he swears he might puke. Your face is next, and with that, he takes his sweet time. You close your eyes and let him explore. He cradles you so delicately, almost as if you're a porcelain doll.

His breath shudders. "Fuck," he murmurs. The reality of the moment hits him. The first tear escapes his left eye. He never thought he would have the opportunity to experience something like this, and now he is experiencing it with you, the love of his life. It feels so surreal, he can't breathe.

His voice quivers as he speaks. "You're breathtaking," he says. "I can't even…Jesus, you're amazing."

You choke up too, your lips curling up into a smile. "Don't make me cry," you retort. "You're gonna ruin my makeup, Prince Charming."

He joins in, his hand remaining on your cheek as he takes in the person that you are through his other senses. You feel so much closer like this. You're his and he is yours, forever.

You step closer. Matt's arms envelop you in a warm embrace, holding you tightly against his chest. He always knows what you want, what you need, and he is more than willing to give it to you unconditionally.

"I love you," Matt whispers into your ear. "I've loved you since we were kids, and I'll love you until the end of time."

You swallow the tears that threaten to fall. "I love you too. With every beat of my heart. I fell in love with you the second I saw you sitting there all alone," you say. "You're never getting rid of me."

He chuckles. "Oh, sweetheart, that's the reason we're here today in the first place. You don't get one without the other." Matt brushes a loose strand of hair out of your face. "You're mine and I'm yours. Always and forever. I promise."

Just as you are starting to get lost in each other's eyes, the door creaks open, and Foggy's voice breaks the moment. "Am I interrupting something here, lovebirds?" he chirps.

You turn to see Foggy standing at the doorway, a playful smirk on his face. Matt releases you from his embrace, and the two of you share a sheepish smile.

"Not at all, Foggy," you reply, wiping away the remnants of your tears. "We were just having a moment."

Foggy chuckles. "Well, don't get too caught up in the moment. Remember, Matt, you can't kiss the bridge until the ceremony. That's what you told me to tell you," he says. "So, take a step back."

Matt rolls his eyes but follows his instructions. "Better?"

Foggy shakes his head. "Further."

"You want me to wait outside? You know this is my bride, right? And I can't even see her."

You laugh. Turning to your husband-to-be, you gently tug at his arm. "Guess you'll have to contain ourselves until then," you say.

“How will I ever manage that?” Matt retorts. “I only waited over a decade to get you back.” Followed directly by a dramatic sigh.

“Exactly,” you and Foggy say at the same time.

You glance at Matt, a silent understanding passing between you. You faced so much together, hand in hand, and this moment would be no different. You’ve never been big on traditions, anyway.

You turn back to Foggy. "We're ready,” you tell him. “And we've decided to walk down the aisle together.”

Foggy's eyebrows shoot up in surprise, but a smile quickly spreads across his face. "Well, I'll be damned!" he quips. "Leave it to you two to make things even more unique. Less work for me, I suppose. Let's get this show on the road then."

And as you take those first steps together, Matt realizes that you chatting him up all those years ago at St. Agnes was just the beginning of your story.

Matt Murdock Tag List: @acharliecoxedfan @gpenguin666 @lina-mar @itwasthereaminuteago @mattkinsella @norestfortheshelbywicked @yarrystyleeza @littlenerdyravenclaw @etanordoesbullsh1t @thychuvaluswife @harleycao @schneeflocky @imjustcal

[flowersandbigteeth]

Your vampire boyfriend gives you a ride home

General Plot: As a bartender, you meet a lot of people. You never expect to meet the vampire you met at one of your jobs again, but he's kind enough to offer you a ride home.

A/N: ADDITIONAL WARNING: This is a story for the older tumblerinas that I had in my mind. When I turned 30 I suddenly felt like there were no vampire stories for me? So this is with that in mind. If you're not 30+ you might not really like it, unless you want to pretend to be a jaded 30-something for a while...I've been dying to do more mind control yanderes and this was a good space for it

Vampire (Julius) x female reader (30+)

Word Count: 4k

W: sfw vampire fluff, yandere vampire, mind control/hypnosis, light kidnapping?

“You don’t look like you belong here,” the vampire said to you, leaning against the bar you were standing behind. You were filling in for the usual bartender at these kinds of parties, a much younger woman with big boobs. That’s what they always asked for. 

“If that’s a crack at my age, you should know I’m also too old to fall for negging,” you shot back, finding somewhere else to look. 

He chuckled.

“The opposite, really, you’re the most interesting woman here,” he said, smiling, revealing long fangs. He picked up one of the glasses of blood you were pouring and took a sip, looking out over the slew of 19-23 year old girls and boys the vampires had invited to entertain their party. 

“These kids are just that,” he said, “children. They look like children, baby faces...” 

He turned back to you.

“Women look like they have secrets,” he said, his sharp, red eyes peering at you over his glass, “I bet there’s a few things you’ve seen, maybe done, that will follow you to your grave.” 

You looked a little incensed and shrugged. It was true, what grown woman didn’t have secrets? You’d all done something you hoped never saw the light of day, it was part of making mistakes and growing up. He wasn’t unique for guessing that. 

“The same goes for me,” he laughed, looking at his drink and spinning the glass, “but that’s what makes you so much more fascinating. I won’t be so trite as to compare a woman to a glass of wine, but there’s something alluring about complexity. You’ve had heartbreaks. Triumphs."

"You’ve gotten high on your ego. You’ve been dragged down and humbled. You’ve created your own tragedies that you’ll always regret and they have formed you into a layered person. All things these kids have yet to experience. There’s nothing wrong with them…just…I’ve never been interested in innocence.” 

“You’re bored then,” you said, ignoring his musings and wiping down the bar. It was late in the night and most of the vampires had found willing humans to feed from, no longer needing your services. The sooner they all filtered out to whatever dark caves they disappeared off to, the sooner you could pack up and go home. 

“I’m here to serve drinks. I’m not good company,” you said blandly, “sure a handsome guy like you could find better pickings at a bar uptown.” 

Sure he was handsome, with deep brown skin and black locs swept away from his face trailing down his back, but all vampires were good looking. They also liked to play games and drink blood, neither of which sparked your interest. 

“I guess you caught me,” he said, “I hate coming to these things. I arrange them for the clan, so I have to be here, but parties got old a long time ago.” 

He looked you over, considering what was under the crisp white button down you were wearing. 

“But you’re wrong about one thing, I’m not going to find a more captivating woman anywhere else,” he said. “I’ve lived a long time, but I’ve never met someone who piqued my interest quite like you do.” 

You laughed in his face. 

“I’m sorry, but that sounds like a line,” you said, smirking, “and I’m a bit too complex to fall for those, too.” 

You appreciated it, anyway, but you weren’t letting the smooth talking vamp make headway with you. You were going to go home alone to another peaceful night drinking tea and reading novels in bed, not getting chewed on, tossed aside by a vampire playboy, and taking an awkward Uber home at 4am. While that had been fun at 23 it had long since lost its shine.

The house lights went up and you almost let out a sigh of relief. The party was finally over. 

“That’s my cue to make myself scarce,” you said, giving him a smile, “have a nice night, mister.” 

You turned your back on him to pack up the rest of the blood bags you hadn’t used and when you flipped back around he was gone. Not thinking much of it, you finished cleaning up and headed home. 

–

Julius watched you from across the room. You’d never know he was there, slinking in the shadows. He was jealous of the way you were smiling at the man in front of you as you mixed his drink. He made a joke and you giggled, making his blood boil. 

You weren’t taken with the man, just doing your job. There was a conference at the hotel and the after party was filled with forty-somethings mingling and sloppily dancing to 2000’s hits in ill fitting business casual. 

Before he walked away Julius watched him slide his business card across the counter to you. You chuckled at his back as he walked off and dropped it in the fishbowl someone had placed on the bar for the raffle, making his rage deflate a little bit. He wasn’t the only man you rebuffed. 

Julius was a hunter, though, in his 597 years of life he’d perfected his craft. He’d identified his prey and nothing would shake him off your trail. He’d been watching you, showing up to the parties you bartended at and creeping on you from the shadows.  It had been weeks since he’d first talked to you.

In that time he’d learned your name was (Y/N), what catering company you worked for, and your home address. He knew the names of all your friends, who you were closest to and who you had drama with, and enough about your troubles to get a pretty good picture of you as a person. 

He was fascinated with your complicated smiles and the walls you put up to keep people out. From following you, he knew you were self reliant and a homebody. You didn’t go on dates. You always turned men down even when you found them attractive. He’d watched you go home to read one of your spicy books alone night after night. 

He was starting to learn what was a fake facade you put on for your customers and what genuinely pleased you, but it was all from so far away. You were a pretty bird that he could only observe. He wanted to get closer, but he didn’t want to frighten you away. How to arrange a meeting? 

He glanced at the 40-something who had approached you, pulling him into the shadows and looking at him with his swirling red irises, whispering something to him before releasing him again. 

When the party ended, fairly early due to the crowd, you packed up your bar and loaded up the van you used to transport the liquor and coolers. 

“Looky here, it’s you again,” the man from before slurred as he appeared behind you. 

You jumped, startled and narrowed your eyes at him. 

“I’m just about to go,” you said, hurrying to put the last of the coolers in the van, but there was still some stuff to load. 

“Why don’t you let me give you a hand, doll?” he asked, stumbling towards you, obviously drunk. You had no idea how he got so drunk because you didn’t remember giving him that many drinks. 

“I’m really fine,” you said, holding up your hands to warn him off. 

The drunk took this as an invitation and fell into you, trying to plant a kiss on you. 

“Hey get off!” you growled, pushing at him. 

“You started it, doll,” he purred in your ear, his hands finding your hips. 

You were just going to push him away when he was suddenly removed from you. 

“Get lost,” a deep voice said and the handsome vampire you remembered from the vampire party you catered a month ago appeared dragging the guy off of you by the collar.

The man blanched, looking suddenly very lucid and terrified, disappearing down the alley. 

“Thanks,” you gasped, catching your breath, “that guy was a creep. If you hadn’t of been here…” 

He smiled at you, flashing his sharp fangs. 

“How auspicious that we meet again,” he said, “maybe this time you’ll let me introduce myself before you scurry off.” 

Shaken from the attack and thankful for his help, you stuck out a shaking hand. 

“(Y/N),” you said. 

He took it, but instead of shaking it he folded himself down and kissed it.

“Julius,” he said. 

You pulled your hand back, even though your heart fluttered a little. No one had ever done that before. 

“Well…like I said, thanks…I should get going,” you said, slowly turning back to your stuff and putting the last of it in. 

“It’s been a pleasure,” he said, “maybe I’ll see you again.” 

You glanced out of your rearview and he was still standing there when you started the van and took off. There was a  loud grinding noise and you hurriedly brought the van to a stop to try and figure out what it was. Julius appeared by your driver’s side window and pointed for you to roll it down. 

“Seems we meet sooner than expected,” he laughed, “someone stole your back tire.” 

You jumped out of the van and clucked in your throat when you saw that indeed, someone had stolen the tire from the van. 

“Just great,” you groaned, fishing in your pocket for your phone to call someone and just to make your night, your phone battery had gone dead. 

“Need some help?” Julius asked. 

You turned back to him, rubbing your head. 

“Yeah, actually, jeez…I’m so sorry to impose like this but is there any way I could use your phone or something to call someone?” you asked. 

He smiled at you.

“I can do you one better and give you a ride home if you want,” he said, “we can call the tow truck in the car. I’d hate for you to have to sit out here in the dark on an obviously dangerous street until someone comes to pick you up.” 

You looked around, acknowledging that you’d both been accosted and had your tire stolen on this street. It wasn’t looking good for your prospects. 

“Okay…” you said, “but let me send a picture of your driver’s license to my friend…just you know, to make sure you’re not a wierdo.” 

He chuckled, pulling out his wallet. He was happy to hand it over, because it was fake. 

“Of course,” he said, “that’s perfectly reasonable. I want you to feel safe with me.” 

He handed you his phone and you snapped the picture, typing in your closest friend’s number that hadn’t changed in the twenty years you’d known her. She was on vacation in Italy and wouldn’t see it, but this was all just to discourage any funny business anyway. He didn’t have to know that. 

Ironically, since he’d been stalking you, Julius did know and smirked as you sent the message. When you were done you passed him his phone back and he led you to a sleek foreign sports car parked in the back lot. 

“This is niiiiice,” you laughed as he opened the door for you, “I’m shocked you still have all of your tires.” 

Julius stiffened imperceptibly and if you’d thought about that statement for a minute or more you might have saved yourself a lot of trouble. Or maybe you were already stuck in the spider’s web and it was too late. 

Whatever the case, the door shut with a click as you sat down and Julius swung around to the opposite side to slide into the driver’s seat. To your surprise he tugged your chin to face him. You would have been annoyed or startled, but when your eyes met his swirling red ones you only felt a sense of peace. 

“I’m taking you to your house,” he said, evenly. 

You nodded, believing him because he’d hypnotized you. He’d ensured that you didn’t struggle while he took you to his. He wanted to talk to you, not watch you sleep in his passenger’s seat. 

Having stalked you for a month, he wanted to hear your voice…see your eyes flicker when you spoke with him. When he let go of your chin, it never even occurred to you to tell him where you lived. 

Instead you leaned forward and nervously fussed with his music system, swiping through songs on the touch screen. His scent was filling the space, some kind of expensive cologne mixed with a masculine musk unique to him, and making your head a little swimmy and maybe your heart a little fluttery. 

You strategically avoided situations like this, chronically single for a reason. Significant others came with compromises and you were happy with your life. Over years you’d built it to be what you wanted it to be. No, you weren’t rich, but you could buy the things you wanted, within reason, and had a comfortable roof over your head filled with the things that comforted you. 

Your own  frugality and ingenuity gave you a lot of pride. You’d DIY’ed a bunch of things to make them nice and you did your own car maintenance. You felt whole. The idea of changing your world, carefully crafted over the course of decades to make room for some unreliable stranger seemed simply unappealing. 

Now you were all fluttery and your hands were sweaty and it annoyed you. It was a threat to your way of life. 

“You listen to Death Cab…?” you snorted, staunchly pushing him away with the first thing that caught your eye, “what are you a moody teenage girl from the early 2000’s?” 

He smirked at you and reached over your hand with his larger, cooler one, pressing play. 

The stormy, proggy guitar riffs that were enigmatic in 2004 drifted out of the speakers all around you. You jerked your hand back, cheeks burning. 

As the music pulled you back to an earlier time when you smoked pot with some boy who’s name and face you didn’t even remember anymore while you avoided a party on a rooftop, listening to this song filtered through the shingles under your feet. 

Oh, instincts are misleading…you shouldn’t think what you’re feeling…

You’d believed in love then. Maybe you’d thought you’d loved that boy that you couldn’t even remember. Just like the song love was campy, but annoyingly poignant and you felt your eyes water with some kind of wistfulness you weren’t used to feeling. 

Surprising even yourself you snorted when another song you recognized played. 

“I had my first time to this song,” you laughed, blushing at admitting something so personal on a whim, but smiling to yourself, “god, how things have changed…” 

We looked like giants, in the back of my gray subcompact, fumbling to make contact…

He tipped his head to the side, glancing at you while trying to keep his eyes on the road. He really just wanted to look at your glowing face on the brink of tears at a silly album he had in his music collection. 

“You’re telling me,” he laughed, “want to hear what I had my first time to?”

Your head snapped to him, interested. A vampire’s song? You had to know. 

He flipped through the songs until the sound of lutes and flutes filled the car and you couldn’t hold back your giggle when a deep voice singing in Italian bellowed something that sounded maybe like opera? 

He smiled at you, tapping his hands on the steering wheel and flashing his fangs. 

“You laugh, but this was extremely popular in my time,” he said, “Guacomo was a genius!” 

You gave him a pacifying nod, smothering a snicker and remembering that oldies in vampire time was very different from yours, as he sang a few lines with a booming baritone.

“It’s kind of a bop,” you said, acknowledging that the flutes were nice. Giving him a devious look you asked him a question he liked. 

“So where was it?” you asked. 

“My first time?” 

You nodded and he laughed. 

“In a brothel my father took me to. I was so frightened I almost couldn’t do it, but she was a kind woman. Took me right in my chair in the middle of the performance.”

He was too polite to ask you yours, so, because it was fair, you told him. 

“Mine was in the back of a Chrysler Sebring,” you chuckled, “on a very rainy day after I finished a job interview.” 

He laughed out loud. 

“After a job interview?!” he chuckled, “naughty girl. Did you get the job?”

You nodded and he grinned. The air in the car had cleared and you’d gotten so comfortable you hadn’t even noticed he’d stopped until then. 

“Where are we?” you asked, looking around at the underground parking lot he’d driven you into. 

He looked into your eyes.

“You asked me to bring you to my house,” he said, “we are getting along so well you don’t want the night to end just yet. You want to have a cup of tea, but you’re all out.” 

“Oh, right,” you said, chuckling that you’d forgotten and letting him help you out of the car. 

He had to stifle his grin as he led his unsuspecting little lamb up the elevator that would deposit the two of you at his penthouse. 

“This is beautiful,” you gasped at the lovely apartment. 

It was wide and open with an almost 180 degree view of the city and the river running beside it. Stars sparkled in the night’s sky, above the light pollution. His decor was sleek and modern in light, cool colors. 

You jumped as a vampire servant appeared, silently taking Julius’ coat.

“Bring my guest some tea,” he said over his shoulder as he led you out onto the terrace wrapping around the building. A small swimming pool was built into the balcony with a hot tub, but he led you to a couch under an elegantly designed propane heater. 

Somewhere in the back of your mind you had the sneaking suspicion something wasn’t right, but it had been so long since you’d been alone, intimately with a man you were kind of getting drawn into the attention and the environment. The weather was a little chilly, but it was warm under the heater.  

He cupped your elbow as he got you comfortable on the couch, sliding next to you. Not too close to spook you, but close enough to be a bit thrilling. He’d played this cat and mouse game with a thousand other women, but no chase was as exciting as this one. He didn’t plan on having you for a night and then tossing you aside. 

His plans for you were much, much bigger. Some part of him had been looking for his dream woman since his first time, but women had always just been…unmemorable. It didn’t matter if they were glamorous, perfect vampires like him or innocent human twenty-somethings, he found them utterly dull, until you. 

When he’d first spotted you in your crisp white shirt, he’d immediately frowned. He thought someone had put a spell on him or a glamor on you. He’d never responded so viscerally to a woman before, his cold heart thudding in his chest. And when you’d put him off…he’d been sure you were sent from the Goddess herself to punish him. 

You weren’t perfect, like some plastic doll. Your face had character, framed with the rogue gray hairs you stubbornly refused to pluck or dye and fine lines around the corners of your eyes. Your boobs weren’ that ideal ratio teenage boys who’d never been near a woman’s breasts before had determined was beautiful and your stomach wasn’t tight. But all of those imperfect strokes painted a ceaselessly lovely picture for Julius. 

You looked like he’d dreamed you with all of his favorite little quirks, the way your teeth were spaced and the shape of your nose…they would all seem not quite perfect to anyone else, but to him…they were exactly what he would have chosen if he'd designed you himself. 

He knew it was a little cliche, but he had to ask. “It’s surprising a sophisticated, pretty woman such as yourself is still single,” he murmured, glancing over your face. 

Your cheeks warmed slightly. 

“I like my life,” you said, confidently, “never needed a man, I guess.” 

“Maybe never needed,” he agreed, “but never wanted?” 

You swallowed thickly as a pot of tea and a cup was set out for you by the silent butler. 

You took a sip of the too hot liquid before answering. 

“Romance just never seemed important,” you replied, “I have friends. I can buy myself everything that I need.”  

He scoffed.

“Now that’s interesting,” he said, patting his knee, “because the only thing I can confidently say I’ve learned in all of my 597 years is that love is the most important thing. Everything else…dust…but love never had a form. It lasts forever, hovering in the aether. Even death can’t kill it.” 

He narrowed his shrewd eyes at you. 

“I see we have to disconnect you from your comfort objects,” he said, thoughtfully. 

You wrinkled your brow at him, a little confused, but just laughed it off. People said strange things all the time, maybe you’d missed something. 

“I want you to kiss me,” he said, this time to you. 

“What?” you asked, a little taken aback at his direct approach.

He smirked. 

“As an experiment. If you really aren’t missing anything, then there’s nothing to worry about. You’ll kiss me, it’ll mean nothing and you’ll have won the bet.” 

“Your wager is I am missing something?” you asked, “something you have?” 

He nodded, an amused smile playing on his lips. You chuckled. 

“Okaaay, that’s one of the more interesting lines I’ve heard to get a kiss, but I’ll bite,” you said, then gave him a more serious look, “but only one. This isn’t an invitation.” 

He nodded innocently, agreeing. 

You couldn’t help but like Julius. He was handsome and a little bit charming. Kissing him wasn’t really a hardship. You were willing to try it. Carefully, you placed your tea cup on the saucer and smoothed your hands on your pants. You gave him a careless look to let him know you were absolutely not going to fall for this, before, leaning in and pushing your fingertip under his chin to lift it just a bit. 

Then you tipped your head to the side and pressed your lips against his. He let you stay in charge for just a moment, his cool lips moving just slightly under your warmer ones. Then you felt his hand take yours, pulling it aside, while his arm circled around you nudging you into him. His tongue brushed your bottom lip as he deepened the kiss and you saw sparks when yours automatically followed his, just lightly scraping one of his fangs. 

He had a slightly coppery taste with a bit of spice and your mouth watered just a bit, tasting him. Your lips and mouths moved together like they’d always known one another. Like this wasn’t your first kiss, but one you’d given him a thousand times, yet was never less exciting than the first. You would have been startled if you hadn’t been so lost in it. 

He didn’t want to pull away from you, knowing he could push for more…but again, he didn’t just want one night with you. He had to be careful how he approached you, so he let his mouth drift from yours, delighted when your head followed his just a bit, chasing him. 

His red eyes sparkled down at you. 

“Did I win the bet?” he asked. 

“Hmm?” 

He chuckled and you blinked, your eyes focusing and your sense slowly coming back to you. You hurried out of his arms. 

“No,” you said, quickly. 

“No?” he asked, very amused, because he knew you were lying. 

You tried to school your very guilty features. That was a good enough kiss it was actually difficult to lie about. You definitely wanted another one, but you absolutely did not want to ask for it. Your emotions were all over the place. He read the slight panic rising in you and, though it was amusing, decided to play the long game.

“Why don’t we call it a night?” he said, “you won the bet, so I’ll give you a favor.” 

You looked at him. 

“What?” 

He shrugged. 

“Whatever you like,” he said, “think about it…a favor from a vampire is valuable. Don’t waste it.” 

You chuckled at him and shook your head at the strange statement. 

“I should probably be heading home,” you said, finally. 

He grinned at you with a knowing look and tipped his head to the side, his eyes sparkling. 

“You’re too tired to go home tonight,” he said evenly, “you want to sleep in my guest room.” 

You yawned as his hypnosis worked and your eyes got heavy. 

“I’m so tired,” you said, “thank you for offering me your guest room. I think I’ll head to bed now.” 

He nodded and waved his hand. To your surprise the butler eerily appeared. 

“He’ll show you to your room,” he said and you followed the butler out, only glancing back once over your shoulder to see Julius was watching you with glowing eyes as you walked away. 

[laismoura-art]

@mikka-minns my dear? Can I tempt you with some...

MK1 Harumi Shirai Headcanons:✨️

Started as a list of Headcanons, but at some point, it became a small story about Harumi and her past.

Enjoy~🩷

The Shirai family was known to be a family of masters. Masters who had trained generations of legendary warriors.

The Shirai women were the most talented fighters, so talented they had caught the attention of another realm. More specifically, Outworld.

The Umgadi invited the Shirai women to train with them and share their skills.

Harumi also was taught the ways of the Umgadi. She was trained by Li Mei. Tanya was her classmate (they used to gossip and discuss who they thought was the prettiest princess, Tanya was very insistent it was Mileena).

The Shirai women were also talented herbalists, healers actually. Plenty of warriors owned them their lives.

Queen Sindel herself had granted the Shirai access to her gardens and their unique specimens of plants. Plants that, when mixed properly, granted miraculous healing properties!

In Outworld, these magical concoctions were seen as blesses. In Earthrealm, however, they were seen as witchcraft, and it did not take long till the Shirai women were deemed as witches.

The Shirai did not let it affect them. They kept their alliance with the Umgadi and Outworld, and they kept fabricating and sharing their concoctions made with Outworld's exotic flora.

They didn't stop helping the Earthrealmers either, even though their assistance wasn't always welcomed nor appreciated as it should.

They didn't stop looking after Earthrealm, but they did grow more careful. From a young age, Harumi was told to be cautious of the outsiders. They did not understand the world as well as they did. Did not understand the power a Shirai woman held.

Harumi was not secluded nor forbidden to interact with the world outside, but she had to be careful. She was taught to be up-to-date with technology, and during most of her childhood, her friends were online.

Her friends would come and go. One day they would log off and never talk to her again. Only one friend remained through all her life, a Chinese boy named Kuai Liang.

They met on a forum online, discussing fictional characters from some random TV show. Then they moved to MSN, where they would talk every day about everything.

Kuai was there for her on her best days and on her worst days. He was a great listener. He would hear her talk about her favourite book, Dune, for hours and hours. He would also listen and comfort her every time she came home, angry and frustrated, for being once again called a witch.

It took her a couple of years to actually build the courage to tell him why she was constantly called witch. She told him the women of her family had "a magical touch," and they could turn any plant into a magical healing potion.

She expected Kuai to disappear after that, to call her insane, or worse, join those who thought she was a witch. But he only told her that he understood. He told her he was cursed. He told her he had literal fire running through his veins while his entire family had ice.

He was different from others, as she was. They bond grew stronger, and whenever they needed an escape, they would seek each other's company.

When they were together, they did not feel alone, out of place. They did not feel like curses or freaks. They felt like they belonged.

As she grew up, Harumi's family started to fade. Her grandparents, aunts, and her beloved parents. Her mother lived a great part of her life as a Umgadi warrior and was buried as such. It was quite a comfort that she got to be buried among the people who loved and accepted her as she was.

When Harumi returned to Earthrealm, she found herself completely alone. The last Shirai. She expected to be alone as she grieved, but a certain boy had other plans.

Kuai Liang had only visited her a couple of times. When he managed to teleport himself to her home in secret from both their families.

He started visiting her more often. There was no one left to keep their relationship in secret from anyway.

Years later, he told her his father was ill, and she offered to heal him. If she could visit him, she was certain she could heal him.

Kuai Liang's older brother, Bi-Han, was adamant in not letting her come. She tried to slip some medicines, but Bi-Han had caught her. He came to her home and told her that though her services were appreciated, they were not necessarily.

"It's almost like you want him to die," she dared say. He was difficult to read, but she could swear she saw pain in his eyes. "He lived a good life, worthy of a warrior, there's no reason to prolongate it," was his answer. He carelessly threw the medicine on her table and left.

She did not hear from Kuai from that day on.

Months later, she heard rumours of a new Grandmaster taking over the Lin Kuei. But heard nothing of Kuai Liang.

Then she heard rumours of disagreements between the new Grandmaster and his second in command, and that was the closest she had heard of Kuai Liang.

She heard rumours of a threat from Outworld and the Lin Kuei conspiring in favour of that threat.

She heard of a war so big that went beyond their realms. She heard of Champions ascending.

She heard the Lin Kuei would no longer assist Earthrealm, they would not be against it, but wouldn't fight for it anymore.

And only then did she hear of Kuai Liang. When he was practically on her doorstep. He had made it to Japan, along with his brother, Tomas Vrbada. They were being hunted down for treason. They needed help. They needed to be saved. And she saved them without an ounce of hesitation.

When Kuai and Tomas started to live with her, it was, honestly, quite awkward. She had grown used to an empty house, and Kuai Liang showing up after months of silence certainly didn't help.

She was not angry at him though, and she still cared for him deeply. One night she would offer to prepare a concoction for the huge scar on his face. It would not make it disappear, of course, but it would help with the pain.

After taking a couple weeks to heal, the former Lin Kuei brothers would start their mission to assemble a clan that would replace the Lin Kuei as part of Earthrealm's defences. Harumi offered to help. And before Kuai could protest, she reminded him of the long history of her family as trainers of legendary champions. She had the experience they only dreamed to have.

The first attempts were a failure, partly because Harumi was rather demanding. She wouldn't train anyone, wouldn't accept anyone. Her students had to be fully committed, if they weren’t they did not even have to bother staying.

Meanwhile, Kuai was worried about his brother. Wondering how he was doing on his own. It was then that he learned that Harumi had something akin to a spy.

Bi-Han did not allow Harumi to send medicines to his father, but allowed her to send it to someone else. Cyrax had recently transitioned, and Harumi's concoctions were of great help! Harumi would willingly deliver her the medicine without any cost, but Cyrax insisted on doing something in return, so Harumi asked: "Keep us informed of Bi-Han’s wellbeing"

Being up-to-date with Bi-Han’s condition certainly eased Kuai Liang's heart. His mood increased greatly, and he started to act more like himself. More like the person Harumi fell in love with years ago.

It was no secret that there was something between the two, but distance always made it difficult to figure it out. Now, sharing the same roof, it all became clearer. They were in love, and slowly and carefully, they started to act of these feelings...

One night, Tomas brought a guest to her home. He insisted that their guest was a child, but Harumi and Kuai could tell from first glance he was an adult, at least 20, but seemingly younger due to malnourishment.

Harumi couldn't quite explain, but there was something about this guest, this Hanzo Hasashi figure. Something... familiar! She felt as if they had already met, but not on this life, no, more likely in another...

I have more headcanons for her, but they might spoil some things I have plans to write, so I'll share only these... for now👀🩷

[scwheeler]

🏹 ˖ ࣪⊹ — past tense

pairing: mike wheeler x fem!reader

summary: you’ve had a crush on mike wheeler since birth, however he’s never been too fond of you. but high schools coming up and after a few events, you finally get over mike but how the tables turn…

warnings: asshole mike 🖕🖕🖕

age of pairing: 15-16

a/n: this was originally the flipped fic i made first but i changed it up a little and was just bored ALSO IT BARELY MAKES SENSE LOL

june 24th, 1981

you had just finished your third lap around the neighborhood on your bike. it was summer yet the heat was bearable, at least to be outside before two p.m. or else you had to smother yourself with sunscreen to prevent getting burned. you thought it was a good idea to head home now as you biked around the corner to see your familiar washed down yellow house.

what was unfamiliar was the three white moving trucks pulling up the house next to yours. it was a large white house that had been empty for some time now. you expected some elderly couple or family of like eight kids to move in. but as you parked your bike on the driveway of your house, you walked towards one of the trucks that had people in it.

there was a little boy with dark hair and a navy jacket on. it was summer and he was wearing a jacket? who was this kid? he had his back turned to you, making you more curious. you started to jog to him and a man who was giving him brown cardboard boxes bigger than his torso. it was probably his dad. he had thick glasses and a come over like most guys you saw at the grocery market and shopping mall.

they were in the moving truck and moving around boxes so you jumped in, “hi! you need some help?” you reached for one of the boxes that had a red label ‘FRAGILE’ which you disregarded. “whoa there, that’s some heavy stuff, why don’t you head on home little girl,” he shooed you away and put a foot on the box you were reaching for, preventing you from carrying it.

you didn’t take it personally, lots of people probably don’t want a strange girl taking their belongings. “hey dad—” the boy peered into the moving truck where you and his dad stood. he stopped himself once his eyes laid on you. he seemed scared more than friendly. 

he had a band-aid on his chin and freckles on his cheeks. he wore a stripped collar shirt under his jacket and plain khaki pants, reaching all the way to his black sneakers. wow was he dressed for winter! you were paying too much attention to what he was wearing you didn’t even realize he was speaking.

you only looked at his face. once your eyes met his, you knew this boy was going to be yours. no matter what.

august 16th, 1981

“—and when we got there it was the beach, like everywhere!” your classmate carly kept talking about her trip to california as the rest of the girls listened in awe. living in hawkins had its perks sometimes but not having a beach was not one of them. however you didn’t really care about what she did or what she was saying.

it was the first day of fifth grade and the only thing you were excited for was the teacher to bring in the new student. your next door neighbor, mike wheeler. throughout the hot summer days, he was the only thing that made those days hotter. you felt your cheeks warm up whenever he would reluctantly knock on your door to drop off a pie or any treat his mom was baking that week.

those days were the days you waited all week for. every friday evening you would look your best, wearing your hair in the cutest ways and putting on the clean clothes fresh out of the laundry so you could smell the sweet flower scent. you would also prevent anymore else from approaching the door.

you stood next to the door, in front of the mirror adjusting your hair while waiting for him to arrive at about seven to knock on the front door. you would wait exactly six seconds so he wouldn’t realize that you were literally waiting on hand and foot for him.

what you didn’t know was he basically saw you through the small side window, standing there counting in your head until finally deciding to get the door. he thought it was weird. he thought you were weird. when his mom would nag him weekly to take a new baked treat over to your house, he thought he was getting punished.

he would have to go all the way down the stairs and get the plate or tin and walk over to your house next door. he complained that the walk felt like a whole marathon when in reality it was only about twenty steps maximum. then he would knock on the door not even bothering to press the doorbell because you had probably had touched it.

he would watch you wait like ten seconds until finally answering the door with a bright smile and thank him a million times. he would keep a straight face and just nod, not one word coming out of his mouth during the last six weeks he’s been doing this.

you would always take any chance to play with him. if he was outside about to get on his bike, you would rush outside without a care in the world if you stumbled down the stairs or hit your knee on a stair. but the instant you would get on your bike, you saw him peddling away like he was trying to get away from zombies. you thought he was going to go meet someone or had something to do, like being the newspaper boy? so you didn’t mind it.

sometimes when you felt like it (basically always) you would get on your bike and chase him, following where he was going. he was just going in laps like you did which meant technically he couldn’t say this following because you were just a fellow neighborhood kid riding their bike around.

you tried your hardest to catch up to him, so you could chat with him or even go somewhere with him but you didn’t know if it was if he had iron lungs and mechanical legs or because he always had a head start, his back would always be turned.

beginning school was the next dreaded thing mike was worried for. not because it’s a new school and he didn’t know anyone. he did know someone, you. mainly that was why he dreaded it. he would have to pass the halls and avoid you to the fullest. what if he ended up with the same teacher as you? then he knew he’d be screwed.

“everyone, this is michael wheeler. i’d like you guys to be nice and respectful to him, please sit down beside y/n. y/n raise your hand,” the teacher spoke carefully and guided him towards you who had a hand up as if there was a star to be reached. ‘how could the universe love you so much!’ you thought.

how could the universe hate him so much, mike thought.

he walked towards his seat that was sat to the right of you. you watched as he slowly sat down and pulled out a blue notebook, the same as yours. yours had a few peeled off sticker residue and markings from previous pens and pencils but it was the same alright.

mike didn’t spare you or your desk a glance to notice so you thought it’d be best to let him know. while the teachers back was turned and faced the blackboard to write down the agenda, you leaned to your right side. “mike—mike, look we’re matching!” he looked at you holding up your notebook like the nobel piece prize and groaned.

not the reaction you expected but it was mike wheeler after all. he would always find a way to avoid you but you were already there. he was hiding and you were next to him. almost attached! for the rest of the day, he looked away from you, facing his right side instead of his left where you sat.

he was talking to lucas and will, two boys who sat near him as well. you’ve never talked to them before even though you spent the last four years of school with them. they seemed weird, not like geeky weird, but like they couldn’t hold a conversation with you. maybe it was early puberty?

either way, you sat in silence. looking at the board but stealing a few glances to peek at mike from the corner of your eye. he was passing notes and laughing with the others boys. looks like he already got himself some new friends. friends that didn’t include you.

june 7th, 1984

tying your white shoelaces to your red sneakers, you entered the classroom for the last day of school. your hair was tied back into a ponytail and moved from side to side as you approached the library. you wanted to return all the books from this school year before you forgot and then finally get to enjoy the start of summer.

as you put it back onto the shelves, you overheard a familiar voice. mike. instead of walking away to spend your summer day, you leaned towards the bookshelf and waited for the boys to speak again. “people will think you’re doing charity mike!” one of the boys said. “yeah i’m not one to be mean but she’s so gross like she’s been obsessed with you forever and did you see her stupid yard?” “that piece of shit!” “shut up it’s a library shhhh,” one of them said. “mike come one be honest.”

you gripped onto the books in your arms and waited for mikes response. “yeah i would kill myself if i was seen with her,” he laughed. you immediately ran out, getting out of the school and getting on your bike. without another thought you rushed inside your house and to your room.

january 3rd, 1985

mike had made it clear he didn’t reciprocate your feelings and even though it was hard, you swallowed your emotions and decided to give up. other than the conversations you had practically forced him into, he never made the effort to talk to you. basically avoiding you for the last four years. so the last day of ninth grade you expected it to the same. and it was.

until you got home. you stood in disbelief in the middle of your kitchen as your mom spoke to you. the words “dinner at the wheelers,” sounded incorrect like you had a hearing problem. but when she repeated it, you realized it was true. “but they’ve never invited us over in like the four years they’ve lived here?” you asked and sat on at the table.

“what matters y/n, at least they’re noticing now,” your mom responded and before you could mutter ‘that’s ridiculous’ you walked out and into your room. sitting on at the desk, you stared down at your textbooks, “mike wheeler…what could he want now?” you’d eventually gotten over him, as you do with most crushes so you didn’t mind going over for dinner.

you weren’t going to be a stuttering, blushing mess and you would be polite and kind. especially to his parents and not mind him any extra attention. but why now? why after these three long years would be invite your family over?

the afternoon came sooner than you thought and you found yourself in a clean formal outfit with a homemade key-lime pie in your hand, waiting in front the mike wheeler’s door. it would be a lie if said you hadn’t been facing this door a million times. you used to come and knock on his door almost every weekend and everyday in summer, asking him to play or come over but his response was a quick decline.

at first he was nice about it, saying he had to help his mom or making up another lame excuse but than he stopped trying to even be somewhat kind about declining your offer. you could see him through the living room window, reading a book and gritting his teeth while you pressed his doorbell time after time. he would ignore you or make one of his other family members get the door, so he could avoid you at all costs.

it was disappointing to say the least but you still saw him at school. you waved to him every chance you got but after experiencing his unresponsiveness for about the seventieth time, you quit. he probably never even noticed your existence at this point!

but mike knew. he always knew, and he was different than you thought. once you stopped caring about him and knocking on his door or taking any chance to make him look at you, he realized something. he missed it, he missed you. it was now him searching for you in the class and him who stared out his bedroom window to see if you would walk over and ring the doorbell.

he didn’t like you. even if only as a friend, he would never admit it. but seeing you view him unlike before changed his mind. he liked your bright personality and your eagerness to try anything. sometimes he would sit in his room, staring at his math homework but thinking about you. how on the bus, you walked right passed him and sat next to timothee brown! crazy! everyone knew timothee was weird and no one ever would sit next to him. to seem unnoticeable, whenever someone boarded the bus, he would look at you who was looking at timothee. chatting, talking, laughing!

he would think to himself, “what was she laughing about? how could she sit there and laugh and look so beautiful!” however he could only turn around and stare out the window while his friend dustin continued to talk about dnd. why was this happening to him! he hated you. he hated you. always had and always will, so why was he dreaming about you every night and imagining what you were doing during class, outside of school, while with his friends, at dinner, during homework, and even when he was watching tv!

you were like a song he couldn’t get out of his head.

a bad song.

there was a knock at his front door and as much as he wanted it to be you, his face showed different emotions. you stood with a pie in your hand and in front of his door once again. wasn’t this want he wanted? but it wasn’t. you looked forced, annoyed. how he looked whenever you would come up to talk to him.

it wasn’t like before, no immediate hugs or jumps to conversations. you walked straight to the kitchen and helped mikes mom set the table. he only watched you walk right past him and ignore him. ignore him! he finally was going to speak to you and now his time was up? it was like a video game and he had used all this lives.

you tried to kept your composure, but to be honest when he opened the door with his shaggy dark brown hair, almost a shade of black and burgundy covering down to his eyebrow and straight freshly-ironed gray collared sweater, your heart slipped almost a beat. scratch that. make that three beats.

before he could look up, you turned your attention to nancy in the background who smiled and waved to you. quickly to divert his attention, you ran inside without a hello and entered the kitchen to help with dinner. brushing past mikes shoulder, deep inside you wished you paused and said hi whcih could possibly have sparked a conversation but he never did in the past three years so why would he start now!

sitting at a wooden dinner table could never have been more awkward. your parents and his had small conversations but mostly about work and school, meaning you and mike were out of the question. luckily you turned your head to nancy and instantly started to ask her stuff about high school. she gladly responded to your questions. she was so sweet, you kept your eyes away from in front of you and to the side where she was sitting. mike who was facing you was waiting for you to be done but you had no intention of stopping.

when nancy and you finished your conversation, you went up to use the restroom twice, forgot to turn off your record player in your room, and finally dinner ended. all of these were excuses to avoid talking to mike and he clearly noticed. at the end of dinner and everyone was settled in the living room, you excused yourself to your room so you could finish your homework.

surprisingly this was true, mr. dons just handed out an essay assignment due this week and you forgot to do it. you sat on your desk, opening your cabinets to get your notebooks and grabbing a few pencils. once you wrote the first word “the,” there was a knock at your door.

“come in!” you said and assumed it was your mom bringing you a snack or to tell you the wheeler’s were finally leaving. but it wasn’t. “sorry to disturb you,” he apologized softly and approached you. you sighed, “what do you want?” he was nervous, looking around your room. he saw a small red notebook on top of your dresser, he looked back to you with your eyes glued to your papers. he carefully reached for it, “don’t touch that.” you turned around and stared at him, “seriously mike what are you doing here?”

“i just wanted to talk to you,” mike said and sat on your bed. you turned back to your homework, “well i don’t want to talk to you.” “why?” he asked, further agitating you. “because—i just don’t,” you groaned and tried focusing on the words in textbooks but you couldn’t with the presence of mike wheeler.

“i thought you liked me,” mike mumbled which finally grasped your attention. “liked.” you replied, making mike finally leave your room.

[bookworm-with-coffee]

Dancing With Death. . .

(John Mitchell x Reader)

(A/N); Hello-Ello! Welcome to my first Being Human fic! I've watched the first few seasons of this show and I'm delighted to continue watching the third. I love Mitchell's dynamic and character arc, Aidan absolutely smashing the role (as always). Do enjoy!! ❤❤

Plot; When a human is invited to live with the gang, things get rather complicated for one John Mitchell...

Pairings; John Mitchell x Reader (Romantic)

Warnings; mature themes, violence, blood, coarse language, angst, eventual tooth-rotting fluff

__________________________________________

When you'd first laid eyes upon death, you thought he was human. You'd hardly expected the gentle kindness in his eyes, but maybe that's something you would come to love about him?

"I'm sorry, you've gone and done what? ", Mitchell gaped.

"Look, before this gets out of hand—", Annie tried.

"It did get out of hand! When you went and did that! ", George shouted, quickly falling to a panic. Every part of him wanted to break down and rip out his hair all at once. "Bringing a human here?? I thought the neighbours were bad, but oh no, you just had to go that one step further and invite one to live with us!! Gods, Annie, do you even think??".

Guilt churned within the ghost's gaze, her eyes drifting to Mitchell. "This house was for us, Annie", he sighed. "A safe haven where we can be ourselves! A human would take that from us!".

"Please", she begged their calm. "I've thought about this!! Rent is going up with the coming of the new lease, making it harder on both of you. Don't try to deny it". Annie raised a finger in warning. "And maybe some part of me wants a bit of human normality around here?".

"Yes, but in case you haven't noticed, a vampire, ghost and werewolf aren't exactly a part of any human normality!", George hissed. "Is nothing sacred? Nothing at all??".

"Absolutely not", Mitchell huffed. "A human living here is out of the question".

"I'm sorry you think that", Annie sighed, beginning to retreat from the room. "Because she's coming tomorrow morning to inspect the spare room". The boys went slack-jawed,

"WHAT?!".

That's how a very normal you came to meet the not-so-normal threesome of Windsor Terrace.

When you'd first stepped foot into the house, you weren't expecting the merry greeting you recieved from Annie. She made the house seem like a home. You'd instantly taken a liking to this boisterous and kind soul when she'd made you tea and toured you around the home. Her flatmates were cautious of you, but friendly nonetheless. They took a fascination in your studies and work, somewhat thrilled to have someone else sharing the rent with them to combat the pesky costs. From the morning you'd spent with the three flatmates, you finally felt you found where you'd belonged and didn't hesitate to sign up for their little condo.

The rest was history, Mitchell and George quickly warming to the idea of having you around. Of course, keeping their secrets had never been more imperative than it was with you living in the house. But, there were ways around it.

You'd spend two to five days of your week studying and at work. Mitchell and George also worked regularly, meaning that the evenings and their few days off were the only times they saw you. On those days off, they'd sometimes opt to go out, as you liked to clean the house anyway.

However, you couldn't ignore the strangeness these flatmates had about them in their mundane lives.

Annie loved your company when you helped around the house, the both of you quickly growing close. But one day, she'd completely disappeared. When you'd ask them, the lads would tell you that sometimes Annie leaves randomly to run errands or work. Unbeknownst to yourself, she'd still be around and seen by the lads. Even when you couldn't see or hear her, she was comforted by your presence whilst you'd dance with loud music and clean. It was a comfort to see some human normality in the house.

On the days she wasn't restricted from your sight, you'd come to notice that Annie never ate. Strangely, she reasoned that she preferred to eat alone and you'd left it at that. Out of not wanting to be rude, you never mentioned her cold hands or embrace. She was so cold to the touch. But, maybe that was just her?? Mitchell was the same, after all.

The raven haired male was almost completely cold to the touch, as if he lacked all warmth. You'd asked playfully one day, recieving, 'Reynaud's Syndrome' as the answer. He claimed it was a disease passed to him by his family. When leaving the house even on warmer days, Mitchell always covered himself in many layers. He always wore sunglasses, even on cloudier days. When you'd brought it up, 'photosensitivity', was the answer. You'd started to become concerned that Mitchell suffered from everything, yet he seemed perfectly fine..

George seemed to be the most normal out of them. Warm to the touch, cautious of others, but polite and kind. He was dating a colleague of his, Nina, who sometimes passed by the house. The two often bounced off of each other, often undecided on where they stood with their relationship. You'd prayed they'd get it together. However, the brunette would take a once-monthly camping trip in the woods to apparently honour the tradition his grandfather had started with him. He'd come back dirty and battered after one night, but not even you had dared to ask your flatmates what he'd be doing. You offered to tag along once, George desperately insisting that it was the only 'alone time' he'd get. You never offered again.

All three flatmates knew they'd fooled you into thinking that this house was normal, but for how long??

Things were growing more complex in the world of the supernatural and you were the only one in the house that couldn't see it. You only saw the rippled reverberations in the water, the conflict and sadness in Mitchell's hazel eyes when he looked upon you.

You'd started to grow close with him as well, sharing in his love for history when he'd spotted you with a book. The conversations and playful debates quickly began, allowing you both to bond even beyond the topics of history. Mitchell was a genius when it came to modern history, as if he'd seen it with his own two eyes. His gaze seemed so old for such a young face and it fascinated you to no end. He struck you as an old soul, especially when he'd started showing you his favourite music and movies as well. All were from the 50's and 60's.

Despite how he'd never truly opened up to you about himself, you felt safe with Mitchell. You didn't care that he was secretive or photosensitive. You truly enjoyed everything his company had to offer. Warm coffee, wicked humour and lazy days binging old movies on the TV, even the occasional walk in the rain. He reeked of comfort, despite being a complete enigma. Yet, for someone so happy and surrounded by company, Mitchell seemed so lonely. And maybe that's what drew you closer to him?

To his own detriment, you were all the vampire could talk about to Annie and George. He was slowly becoming aware of his attraction to you and it was a dangerous game to start playing.

"Just tell (Y/n) how you feel!", George proposed amidst chewing his sandwich. "Things might work out?".

"No problem! It's already hard enough for me as it is to sit by her without tearing out her throat, so I'm sure this'll work out fine!", the Irishman retorted sarcastically with his signature glower. George stiffened.

"Is it really that difficult for you?", Annie's voice was a soft whisper, brows knitted together in concern. Mitchell's hazel hues darted up at the ghost, remorse clouded within them. That was all the answer they both needed.

Animalistic desires often raged through his mind when you sat so dangerously close. He was able to smell the sweet heat of your skin, feel the hot blood rushing beneath it and hear the steady beats of your heart. The predatory side of Mitchell was always devious. Combined with other wants, being near you had become almost intoxicating.

"You deserve to be happy, Mitchell", the werewolf sighed. "You owe it to yourself to at least try?".

"Look, I'm not like you, alright?", he grumbled. "I'm not a monster for one day of the month, I live with this every day. I am a monster 24/7, George. You and I are not the same". Annie pursed her lips, laying her cool hand on Mitchell's shoulder as a form of sympathy. "If (Y/n) and I were—", he started. "And she got hurt or died, I'd never forgive myself. Lauren was proof that I'm not good for her, that I can't be trusted". Tears burned in his gaze. "She deserves someone so much better than me".

"What if she knew?", Annie asked nonchalantly with a shrug. "Would that make it easier??". Mitchell's head shook,

"No, no and no". Heaving a sigh, he slumped in his chair. "She deserves to live a normal life. Unburdened with the knowledge of—", he gestured to himself. "This!".

"Doesn't help that Herrick is trying to stir trouble", George added.

"Don't even start with that", Mitchell dismissed it quickly with a bitter laugh, his brows suddenly furrowing. "Speaking of her, where is (Y/n)?". Hazel orbs danced expectantly between his two flatmates, the werewolf's gaze falling to his wristwatch,

"She texted me earlier. Said that her classes were extended by an hour. I'm sure she's on her way". A chill almost seemed to pass through Mitchell. Something wasn't right. It was nearing 7:00pm, you finished at 6:00pm.

"Where does she take classes??".

"Few blocks down from the hospital? Around central Bristol?", George shrugged. Concern etched its way onto Mitchell's expression, adrenaline coursing through his blood. He shot up from the table, marching over to the door.

"Mitchell!", Annie called to him incredulously. "Where do you think you're off to??".

"I'm going to look for her. It shouldn't take this long".

"Mitchell—".

"Text me if you hear from her or if she comes home!", he called from over his shoulder, pointing at his flatmates before the door closed behind him. Mitchell's senses were buzzing, always more efficient at night. Your scent wouldn't be hard to track if he picked it up.

Bristol was such a peaceful city. Coming away from the bright lights and active streets, you found comfort in the sudden ability to see the stars shimmering above without the interference of the street lamps. The air was cool and crisp, fogging as it left your mouth and nostrils. What usually would've been a peaceful walk home suddenly turned into something entirely different. Pained cries rang out from between a few of the buildings ahead, stilling your breaths. "Help— help me!". You were still quite a way from home or the hospital. Your pace quickened, spying a body between the buildings.

"Hey, I'm here, I'm—". Your heart felt as if it had stopped, feeling a wild wave of nausea vaulting into your throat. The air smelt wet with a stench, blood coating the floor around and on the body. More particularly the neck area. This man had already been dead for some time. If he didn't shout, who did??

"Help me!", a man cried with the same voice you'd heard. "Help me!". Although now, he'd emerged from the darkness. The stranger was perfectly unscathed, his eyes almost predatory as they were set on you. "Honestly, do you lot ever not fall for that one??". A dark chuckle slipped from his lips. Your heartrate quickened, your cooler hands suddenly becoming clammy. "And just like that, it was just all too easy", he mused, nearing you. Your steps backtracked, every instinct you had telling you to flee. You turned, trying to sprint; only to run into another male with the same ravening gaze. He shoved you roughly, your back slamming the wall nearest to you before you fell to the floor by the corpse. A shout escaped your throat, whilst you tried to scramble from it, slipping in the blood only to have the first male grab you by the scruff of your neck. He had a bruising grip that made you cry out. You grunted, clawing at his hand, barely even scraping the skin to your own confusion. "Oh, how I love it when they fight", he giggled through his teeth cruelly. A low growl left your throat, in your attempt to free yourself from his grip.

"They think they actually have a chance", the other laughed. Your foot darted out, kicking your captor's shin. Out of surprise, his grip loosened for that split moment, allowing you to slip from him. The harsh hold he'd had on you left your neck sore, your feet beginning to sprint to the other end of the building. You wasted no time crying or screaming, your heart becoming hopeful at seeing the dim streetlights ahead.

A painful grip suddenly wrenched your arm, swinging you into the wall to your left. Your head was the first to smack the wall, the hit completely disorienting you. Wetness travelled down from your temple, the feeling barely able to register before the iron grip resumed on your jaw and throat. With inhuman strength, you were lifted by one hand and slammed into the wall. Your feet didn't touch the ground, suddenly a few feet from it. In your fight for oxygen, you kicked desperately and held onto the hand that clamped down on you. You spied the first stranger's face beneath you, his tongue clicking in a form of tutting. "That wasn't very nice, Love", he chided, squeezing on your neck, a wheeze barely able to escape. Your head ached, the lump on your face stinging as it secreted more blood. You felt a dizzying pressure building up within you, your lungs growing tighter. "Now look what you've gone and done". His grip seemed effortless, reaching up with his free hand to swipe a finger at your blood before sticking it in his mouth. "So sweet", he hummed to his silent counterpart. 'You sick bastard!', you wanted to roar, barely able to continue struggling. "I enjoyed our little game, Lovely. But, I can't control myself any longer". You whimpered, trying to kick from his grip.

"Finally", the other grinned. Fear pulsated in every ember of your body, your lungs barely able to manage a gasp at what you'd seen next. Whether it was your blood loss, your head having been hit or the lack of oxygen; you didn't know. The strangers' eyes turned to a midnight black, their smiles no longer human. They had the teeth of a carnivorous animal, sharp and glinting in the dim light nearby. You couldn't shout, you couldn't run. It was over.

"Oi!", a yell broke the silence of the alleyway, the grip around your neck loosening to the point where you could rasp,

"RUN—". The squeeze suddenly resumed, your eyes closing.

"Put her down!". You knew that voice, you knew that face. Mitchell. Fear leapt into your throat, your feet kicking desperately, trying to get your dear friend to flee. The raven haired male was completely unintimidated by the two sets of eyes and teeth bared to him.

"Ah, Mitchell", the stranger smiled tauntingly, fully familiar with your flatmate to your greater confusion. "We were about to have dessert. Care to join?". Disgusted with the two males, he stared them down with a glare that could've put fear into your own heart, his face inches from theirs. After only a few moments, they relented, throwing you roughly to the floor by Mitchell's feet. You were winded from the impact, your head recieving another painful hit as well. To your relief, your airways were no longer hindered, gasps and coughs wracking your form.

Mitchell would've knelt by you right then and there if it didn't show vulnerability to his enemies. He needed to make them leave first. "You're such a killjoy, Mitchell, you need to—". The stranger squeaked, suddenly being held up high against the wall, within the same grip he had placed you in. Rage coursed through every fibre of Mitchell's being, his gaze hard like stone when confronting these males.

"Not so nice when it's the other way round, is it, Seth?", the Irishman growled through his teeth. His grip grew harder, Seth's eyes riddled with fear, the way yours had been. Your vision blurred slightly amidst your gasps for air, barely managing to see the way Mitchell's eyes became like death and his teeth pointed. "If you or your friends touch her again, I'll crush the life from your fucking skull!". The other male no longer held confidence within his gaze, eyeing his counterpart and your crumpled form on the floor.

"I'm sorry", Seth was only able to mouth. "I'm sorry". Mitchell allowed him to drop to the floor, holding his aching neck. Surprisingly, Seth didn't gasp for air. Unbeknownst to you, he didn't need it. "Is she special to you or something?", he ground out.

"That's none of your concern", Mitchell replied coldly, his expression seemingly human again. "But, she's untouchable. And you will respect that". Straightening his clothes, Seth eyed you pensively,

"Herrick will be intrigued to know about this, Mitchell. Especially since she knows our secret".

"Run back to him then. Tell him the truth. I want them all to know", he insisted challengingly. Taken aback by this revelation, the two males finally backed off from your flatmate. At last, they'd gone.

Dread suddenly clouded Mitchell's every thought. His form dropped down to yours, still slumped on the concrete. "(Y/n)?", he called softly, so unlike the tone he'd just used with those men. That was the Mitchell you knew. His cool hands held your face, your head wound still bleeding. To his own surprise, the bloodlust never came. There was only concern, care and love. So much love.

His hazel hues searched your neck almost frantically, relief suddenly filling his heart at no puncture wounds. He'd gotten to you in time. The same couldn't be said for the innocent stranger he'd spotted at the other end of the alley. He could do nothing for that person now. You were his priority. "Mitchell", you sobbed, weakly reaching up to hold his hands, hot tears falling freely now.

"I'm here", he whispered, hoisting you up with one arm. His lips pressed a chaste kiss against your forehead, his arms encasing you in a protective embrace. "I'm here".

The vampire had wasted no time, effortlessly carrying you through the streets. It wasn't long before he was finally stumbling through the front doors of your shared home with you in tow. Both the ghost and werewolf ceased their worried pacing to rush to your aid. "It's okay, I've got her".

"What happened?!", Annie cried, her gaze growing tearful at your various injuries. Mitchell shared a look with George, the latter able to understand. Vampires. The same two who had taken it upon themselves to beat up George only two years prior. His voice dropped an octave cautiously,

"Is she??".

"No", Mitchell's head shook, his voice gentle. George exhaled in relief. You weren't a vampire. You were hurt, but you weren't a vampire.

The threesome were now faced with the problem they'd attempted to avoid. You knew. How much, was a different matter.

Mitchell had carried you to the bathroom, sitting you down on the bathtub's edge to tend to your wounds. You weren't concussed. Shaken would've been a better word. Whilst the raven haired male worked gently on cleaning the blood from your face, he filled the tub with steaming water so that you could clean yourself later. Your eyes studied him, the colour of his skin, those lavish curls framing his face. His eyes were kind, even when they resembled the colour of death. He'd protected you.

The cool hands that cradled your face tilted your head back with such gentleness, it brought tears to your eyes. Mitchell was so unlike the monsters you'd seen that evening.

"Thank you", you murmured, whilst he placed a dressing over your lump. His gaze withdrew its focus from your wound, still gentle when it was trained on your eyes.

"It's alright". His words of assurance were hushed, as if speaking normally would scare you. "Just clean yourself up and head to bed. If you're hungry, I'll make you some food".

Although he'd left without saying much else, Mitchell realised that you were in a state of shock. You couldn't hear the whole truth, not until you'd had some time to register everything.

The following days were hard. You were in bedrest, only coming downstairs to silently retrieve food. Your mind reflected on what you'd seen. Those men weren't human. Mitchell knew them. He was like them, but unlike them too. If the concept of Vampires existed, what else did??

Your thoughts were suddenly broken, your protector stepping into the room, carefully closing the door behind him. "Annie and George are out. It's just us". You nodded, Mitchell moving to sit on the end of your bed. The mirror that sat by your window was blank. You should've been shocked, but there was only an understanding. Vampires have no reflection.

Moving out from your covers, you crawled to sit beside the kind male. "Mitchell", you began shakily, him nodding gently to encourage you to continue. "Those men. They weren't human. They were vampires, weren't they?". A smile twitched on his expression. You were too perceptive.

"That's right".

"They knew you", you continued, your brows furrowed in curiosity. "How??".

"I'm old, (Y/n). 116 years old to be exact", he confessed. "When you live for so long, you sometimes get caught up with the wrong people".

"You're nothing like them, though", you breathed, reaching out to trail your fingertips along his cold arm. "You don't— hurt people".

"I try not to". Your brows creased in concern, seeing the shame in his eyes. "I've hurt people before. Lost control. It's hard to live how I do". You nodded. "Does that scare you?". His hazel orbs monitored your expression for fear, unsurity.

"I'm not afraid of you, Mitchell", you whispered, reaching across to place your warmer hand over his chest where his heart rested. If his heart wasn't stiffened, it would have been hammering from anxiety. His tongue darted out to moisten his lips nervously.

"I'm the creature of nightmares, (Y/n)", his voice remained surprisingly steady, his smile growing sadder. "I'm a monster".

"I don't believe that", your words caught him offguard, something unreadable flashing in his gaze when it fell on you again. "Monsters don't save people from other monsters. Monsters aren't kind or selfless. They have no remorse. And they can never be human, like you".

You shuffled closer, Mitchell moving away from your touch. "What are you doing?", his brows furrowed in confusion, growing scared that his inner creature would take its chance. But, you instead answered him in the form of a hug. Your arms clasped around his broad shoulders, allowing him to break from your touch any time he wished. He restrained his senses from breathing your scent, carefully resting his head on your shoulder. His arms wove around your smaller form, bringing himself into a less delicate embrace with you. It was firm and sure.

"I'm trusting you", you answered his question vocally now. Mitchell would have begged that you don't, were it not for the sudden epiphany that came to him. It helped him see differently for once.

Maybe through you, he could learn to trust himself again?

Finally grappling that the household you lived in wasn't normal, you found that you didn't mind. Mitchell had helped you understand everyone in the house, whilst helping them to live unhindered.

"We're home!", George announced, sauntering through the door with Annie in tow.

"Welcome home, Mr Werewolf", you greeted him from the couch where you laid alongside Mitchell.

"Glad to see you up and around again, (Y/n)—", he chuckled, suddenly sputtering, "What??". Your counterpart had a shit-eating grin splayed on his sharp features. "You outed me, Mitchell?? I thought she wasn't supposed to know!", his voice was a harsh whisper.

"She is in the room, George", Annie sighed, moving past him to snuggle up beside you happily. "I'm just glad you're okay. And that I'll never be disappearing from your sight again".

"Me too", you agreed.

"In my defense, she figured out that Seth and his little friend were Vampires. Myself included", the Irishman raised his hands, almost proud that you'd worked it all out. "She suspected Annie might’ve been one. A little hint, and she caught on". George's brows furrowed.

"How'd she figure me out then??".

"You do see the state you're in when you come back home the morning after, don't you?", Mitchell deadpanned. "You're hardly beating up bears by the lake. Werewolf was the only logical explanation".

"Aside from camping?".

"George, nobody goes into the forest for a night to roll on the ground naked".

"Fair point", George conceded with some embarrassment, his eyes darting to you. "And you're fine with all of this?". You nodded,

"Absolutely. Your secrets are safe with me".

The household finally felt free, everyone able to be themselves. You actually enjoyed everything being the furthest thing from normal. Secrets were never hard for you to maintain. You didn't have many friends or classmates outside of the home, your personal circle slimming down to just your roommates.

Nonetheless, they encouraged you to live your life normally and pursue a relationship like George had. One of your classmates had asked you out, the two of you only dating for a month before things turned horribly sour.

You had found out that your date was dating many other bachelorettes. Despite how your feelings weren't overly strong for this man, you felt hurt. As if you were only good enough for a backup plan or affair. Your time had been completely wasted.

The front door of your shared home slammed, your feet quickly leading you up the stairs whilst you ignored three sets of concerned eyes. "Told you that this fella seemed like a cock", George sighed, recieving a sharp elbow from Mitchell and a pointed look of disapproval from Annie. "What?? He was in the end!".

"I'm going to see if she's alright", the vampire huffed, standing from the couch to trail your steps. Your bedroom door was closed, but never locked. Mitchell knocked softly, pressing his forehead against the wood.

"Don't come in, I'm a mess", you sniffled, an amused grin forming on his expression.

"Don't worry, I'm not a roomba", Mitchell joked, conceding that it was a cringeworthy one.

"Mitchell?". Your door creaked open, the Irishman slipping into your room. The door closed behind him, his eyes quickly becoming softer at seeing you so distraught. Wordlessly, he made his way over to where you sat on the floor in front of your bed and slid down beside you. His large arm brought you close against him, now trusting himself more around you to do so.

Mitchell's carnivorous instincts had been present, but dying down slowly, day by day. It was difficult, but he was managing to control himself. "I'm sorry", he apologised for your current situation, wishing there was more that he could do.

"Don't be", you insisted, laughing sadly. "It's not your fault that he was an arse". His smile matched your sadder one, your head coming to rest in the crook of his neck. Mitchell had been envious of this man, but never wished ill on your relationship with him, praying that you could find happiness. Some part of him tore itself up at seeing you like this, but was completely oblivious to your true feelings.

You were in love with Mitchell, not this man you'd dated. You'd tried to pursue happiness with another, not believing yourself to be good for or good enough for Mitchell. It felt hopeless, every part of you screaming for whom you truly yearned for. But, you knew it was too risky, even if he felt the same.

Your head turned, Mitchell attempting to press a comforting chaste kiss to your cheek, repeating what happened once with Annie. His lips had accidentally brushed yours, a jolt running through you both. Your tears had been forgotten, Mitchell's expression lighting up in an amused grin. He laughed softly against your lips, his smile becoming contagious. "Annie did warn me about this— I'm sorry", you giggled, eyes flickering shyly to his own. His lower lip was drawn between his teeth, his gaze fluttering over your features in admiration.

"I'm not", the confession tumbled from him in a hushed breath. Mitchell knew, as well as yourself that you were both giving into something so dangerous. His nose brushed your own as the last of his restraint faded from him. There was no going back now.

"(Y/n), Mitchell", George knocked on the door. "I ordered some pizza for lunch. Come down and get it while it's hot!".

"Coming!", you called back, Mitchell forcing a smile when you looked on him again. "Shall we go?".

"I'm hardly one to say no to pizza", he scoffed, coming to a stand with you. Remaining behind, his hazel gaze followed your retreating form before his eyes closed dejectedly.

What had he done??

_________________________________________

Hope you all enjoyed!! Let me know what you all thought! Any and all feedback is welcome!! Part two coming soon!! ❤

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[comorbidfascination]

Bo: Reclamation

You and Bo finally find a way to leave your old lives behind in favor of the one you've built together.

warnings: nsfw, pregnancy

slasher masterlist here

You'd always hated Bo's dad. His mom wasn't much better, but she at least tried to keep the other boys out of harm's way. Childhood was a sore subject for you both, but you'd be damned if it would be for the baby growing in your belly. When you had brought up the idea of starting a family the first time, Bo had scoffed at the idea. Said he wasn't cut out for it, but you knew better. For as sadistic as he could be, travelers with kids were never harmed. He had always looked after his brothers in his own weird way. He cared for you enough to soften just slightly, and you were convinced anyone could do a better job than his parents. 

---

When test after test turned up positive, you were surprised, but not all that nervous. You had been quietly coaxing Bo into the idea for some time, and there was no way you were giving up this baby, his baby. You already had a couple names picked out, but that could wait.

"Honey?" You padded into the living room to find your boyfriend right where you expected: laid back in the recliner watching soccer. "Got a surprise for ya." 

Bo looked up at you, your smiling face upside down from standing behind the chair. "Yeah? Let's see it."

You handed him an envelope, which he opened to find a photo of all four pregnancy tests with a note on the back that read, "From Mama to Daddy." The smile didn't leave as you remembered how discreet you had to be in asking Lester to drive you into town to print the photo without him seeing it.

"You serious right now?" His voice was uncharacteristically soft as he stared at the photo.

"Hundred percent, babe." You circled around the recliner and he set it down so you could sit in his lap.

"We're having a baby." His eyes hadn't moved yet. "You're pregnant...with our baby."

You tilted your head at him. "Not like I've been fucking anyone else." 

Bo snorted, finally looking up at you again. He pulled you closer to kiss all over your face, making you laugh and push him off, and he leaned back with a dopey grin. "I got something to show you too."

Nobody else really ventured into the basement of the garage, so Bo had plenty of time and space to put together his surprise for you. He told you he'd been saving up for almost a year, but you didn't know what until he handed you a small tool box filled with engagement rings. He had never looked so vulnerable and sweet as he did when you opened the lid and gasped at the sparkling gems. 

"Oh, honey." You carefully dumped them out on his desk, spreading the rings out to see them all. "This is amazing. I don't even know what to say..."

He wrapped his arms around you, "Y'could say yes."

It suddenly dawned on you that this was an actual proposal. Bo had never been the best at expressing emotion through words, actions suited him much better. "Of course I'll be your wife, darlin'. Honestly, I don't know why you waited three years to ask."

He accepted your kiss with visible relief. "Never felt like the right time, I guess. I've wanted to marry you since we were eighteen, so waitin' a few more years was nothin'."

You cuddled into him, happy to call him your husband even if the marriage was off the books. You both knew Ambrose needed to stay off the maps, so the subject wasn't even brought up when you sifted through the rings some more. You also didn't need to ask where he had gotten them after helping to go through victims' belongings time and time again. They made a sizeable pile, and the ones you didn't want would do well at a pawn shop. Business always went with pleasure in Ambrose.

---

At five months and a much larger physique, you found out that you were having a girl. You insisted that she not take the name of a relative, that she would be entirely her own person, and Bo agreed. After another few weeks of contemplation it was decided that your daughter would be called June.

You had more trouble with aches and pains than you did with self esteem, even at the tail end of your pregnancy. Bo was adamant that you were just as beautiful and spent all his free time doting on you. Family was everything to him, especially his wife. The secondhand ring gleamed on your finger as you swayed with him to old country songs anytime the radio was on. 

When June was born, your already busy lives became even fuller with a fussy baby around. There wasn't much time for intimacy, but Bo was determined to make you remember how much he'd always adored you. You didn't do a thing except focus on June until you'd had enough of missing him while he worked. The help around the house was nice, but you needed him there with you. 

"Honey, come to bed. It's late and I can't sleep without you." You stood behind his chair at the kitchen table where he was fiddling with some broken appliance. Hands on his shoulders, you kneaded the muscles until he leaned back to look at you.

"Sorry mama, I'm comin'." Bo stood and stretched before following you to bed. Though you weren't as big anymore, he'd formed a habit of helping you out of your clothes at night. He kissed your neck and wrapped his arms around your bare middle.

You sighed happily and turned your head to kiss him back, hoping he wouldn't be too tired to go further. "Can I ride you tonight?"

He hummed in agreement and slipped his calloused hands over your soft hips. He hugged you to him for a moment, then let go. You turned to face him with a smile. Bo kissed your lips as chastely as he was able and took his own clothes off.

"Lay down, sugar." He did as you asked and settled in while you climbed on top. You stroked his cock and felt it twitch. Your pussy clenched at the thought of being full after too long a wait. "Oh, could you get a condom from the drawer?" One baby was enough for the moment.

"Sure, sweetheart." He rolled it on and helped lift you over his cock. "Ready?"

You nodded and started to sink down with a breathy moan. He was thick, though not particularly lengthy; you still knew better than to rush. Feeling your already slick folds part to take him in made your skin tingle with equal parts satisfaction at having him under you, and anticipation for how much more you'd be taking. Bo laid as still as he could, but it was torture seeing your expression and feeling your cunt envelop him without being able to move with you. He groaned and tightened his grip on your love handles. He'd put on a bit of pudge over the years as well, and you hummed happily as you braced yourself on his thick thighs. You were over halfway down and kept the pace slow. Finally letting your weight rest on him was one of the most satisfying parts. 

When you could sit on his cock properly, you leaned over to kiss him on the lips. He sighed through his nose and wrapped his arms around you. The strength from hard labor was obvious even through cushioning from years of home cooked meals. Bo trailed kisses down your jaw, then pulled back to look at you with lovestruck eyes. "I'll never get tired of this."

You chuckled and rubbed the tip of your nose against his. "Sleeping with me?"

"Loving you." He flashed a dopey smile. "In any way you'll let me."

Flushed from more than exertion, you shook your head, strands of hair falling into your face. "I love you too, baby."

He tucked your hair behind your ear and smoothed his hands over the curves of your body. You didn't bother sitting up; his chest was warm and solid under your cheek when you relaxed against him fully. You rolled your hips slowly and felt his hands settle on the swell of your ass, squeezing when you clenched around his cock. The house was quiet except for the faint calls of crickets and the wet sounds of your pussy swallowing him again and again. Bo rocked his hips in tandem and kneaded your pillowy flesh. With a soft whine, you angled your body so that your clit could get some friction, however slight. Ever attentive to your needs, he slipped a hand between you to stroke the little bundle of nerves. You responded with a throaty moan and panted hot breaths onto his skin.

The coil in your gut was tightening with every thrust, inching you closer to the edge. As much as you enjoyed savoring the intimacy of love making, you needed more. Pressing your nails into his shoulders, you murmured dazedly, "Need you to fuck me, Bo."

"Yeah?" He kissed the top of your head. "Don't worry darlin', I'll make you cum as many times as you want." 

Your world spun as he rolled so he could kneel on the bed, then flipped you back over and pulled your hips up to meet his. You yelped and braced your arms underneath you. With a low chuckle, he grabbed handfuls of your ass and let go to watch it jiggle. You keened into the pillow, trying not to wake the baby sleeping just down the hall. Bo pushed your legs open wider and guided his cock back into you. The two of you shared a moan, then he started pounding into your cunt like he'd never get another chance. Biting the pillow, you gripped the sheets and pushed back as he thrust forward. You felt a bit lightheaded from breathing so hard and from the electrifying friction churning up your insides - you suspected he had been waiting for you to ask for this. It was getting harder to think, or do anything except take every harsh thrust like it was what you were made for. 

It could have been minutes or an hour before you were shoved off the precipice of a blinding orgasm. When your vision cleared, Bo was still going, though at a marginally kinder pace. He was muttering under his breath and you caught the words, "Perfect for me," and "Almost there." Knowing he wouldn't last much longer, you arched your back and told him to give you everything. With a low growl, he shoved his cock as deep as it would go and filled the condom; you could feel it expanding slightly inside you. When he was spent, Bo pulled out and gently lowered your body to the bed. He cleaned up while you tried valiantly to keep from dosing off. You reached out for him when he was done, snuggling into his warmth and allowing sleep to take you. 

[seancekitsch]

Requesting for a nervous but willing Hughie getting smooched, felt up, and eventually pegged/banged by the reader in order to get some intel.

unedited and i got carried away !!

It felt good, all of the kissing, the groping, the mindlessness of it all. He had played his cards right, flirting with the plant powered supe at an event for Vought to try to regain its good name. There was a carnival, a beer garden, live music, and you. A newbie, not unlike Annie, which is why she herself suggested the woman to be Hughie’s target.

The woman rocked back on top of him, coming apart from their kiss. Every time she rolls her hips, Hughie feels like he needs a cold shower. He’s never been with a woman so domineering, so willing to take.

It wasn’t hard to get to this point, at your apartment in Vought’s secondary housing for their extra supes. ‘The spares and unwanteds’ as Annie and now you had both mentioned, in that exact phrasing. He recognizes it as a clear Homelander-ism. He flirted, in his opinion poorly, but you hung onto every word. And you weren’t hard to flirt with; you were funny, gorgeous, and you had enough in common that he could have easily seen himself swiping right on you on Tinder in a normal circumstance. You seemed bored of the little PR stunt, and bluntly asked him to come back to your place, as simply as that. You grope at his sides, letting him squirm under you as you dive back in to kiss and suck at his neck.

“Wanna take this to the next level, pretty boy?” you whisper against his neck, and he hesitates, only for a moment.

And then you’re immediately climbing off his lap, and he thinks he’s immediately fucked this up. If he can’t get this intel, if you tell him to leave, he might run out of time. There have been so many moving pieces at Vought, so many new developments that—

“Earth to Hughie?” you ask, gentler than he expects you to.

“Hey, hey dude,” you move to sit next to him, a reassuring hand on his shoulder, “If you don’t wanna continue we don’t have to. We can stop it’s fine! I’ll still give you the information you want.”

His blood runs cold.

“Wh-why do you think I want… information from you?” his voice is quiet, distant. If you knew, what do others know?

“Oh I’m not stupid,” you laugh, “I recognize you, from the news? From Vought? And then it also begs the question of: why would a man as cute as you go after little old me, hmm? Supes complicate things. We’re not exactly easy to date.”

You had him there. He nods, understanding. Relief washing over him.

“Oh thank god,” he sighs, and leans into your touch.

“I was worried you’d strangle me with vines or some shit.”

You laugh, hard; it’s beautiful. Sounds like angels to him.

“I could still do that,” you joke, “but in a different context.”

He’s still hard, and he notices that joke only excites him more. You seem to notice too.

You stand up, walking towards the open door to your bedroom.

“Now Hughie, I’m going to give you the information no matter what, but I think I think we might both have more fun in here.”

You watch as his hands clench and unclench on the couch, his nerves sparking your nerves. He’s so handsome, really, in a boyish and incorruptible way. You want him to stay.

And steadily, Hughie rises from the couch, walks over to you, and kisses you eagerly. Harder than you expect. You pull him through the doorway, no breaking the kiss until you tumble onto the bed with him, yanking at his flannel to try to pull it off.

“You uh, have a lot more plants in here,” he remarks between kisses.

“Better for…. soundproofing,” you offer, “Thin walls.”

And Hughie pauses to watch, amused, as easily the worlds biggest pothos begins to trail its vines across the walls, one particular vine actually using the door handle to shut the bedroom door behind the two of you. His eyes then travel around your room, around all of your personal belongings, your civilian clothes on the floor, to…

Your dresser, where you forgot to put your strap on away. You feel your face heat up even though it’s nothing to be ashamed of. Part of you, you think, doesn’t want to scare him away.

“That’s— oh god— I forgot to put that away, I was moving stuff and…” you trail off when Hughie’s eyes meet yours.

“Dude, you totally don’t have to explain. I’ve been around,” He says with an air of confidence, which you don’t deny.

“Have you ever—?” the question hangs in the air, and you use this as the perfect time to fling his discarded flannel across the room.

“Have I? No, never. But maybe next time?” He let’s that question hang in the air next to yours, burying his face in the crook of your neck as he starts to unlatch the corset of your Supe costume.

“Oh, next time?” you ask, pausing to moan at his teeth scraping your pulse, “There’s gonna be a next time?”

You hope you don’t sound too eager.

He shrugs, and mumbles something that sounds like “sure” against your skin. Good enough. You hook your thigh around his hip and push, maneuvering him on his back under your straddled legs. You throw the corset top off somewhere near where you aimed his flannel, and lean down to kiss him, his hands almost immediately cupping your chest. You grind against him again, and he whimpers against your lips. Fuck, he sounds so sweet.

You break the kiss to reach for his belt, not missing the way his chest heaves and a dreamy smile spreads across his face.

“You want me to fuck you, Pretty Boy?”

“God, please,” he begs, and you smile as you get to work on the button of his pants as well, quickly pushing the jeans down and letting him kick them the rest of the way off.

He’s wearing boxers with penguins all over them.

“Are these your seduction plot underwear?” you ask, not hiding your laughter.

He sits up to grabs your hips, all while laughing with you.

“They’re lucky!”

“Says who?”

“Stop making fun of me and take your pants off so we match.”

You’ve never laughed this much with someone you were sleeping with. He was fun.

You shimmy out of your tighter than hell pants and then climb back on top of him as he wolf whisked jokingly at you.

“No penguins,” he comments.

“You like these better though.”

You’re right, he does. He dips his fingers under the dark lace, only to revel in the shuddering gasp in response. His head falls back into the pillow as his thumbs massage circles into your hips, guiding you to rock back and forth on top of him again. You can feel him, straining through his gaudy underwear, and fuck you want him inside you.

He whimpers below you, eyes screwed shut, and you shift away, pulling the elastic of his boxers down the same way you pulled at his pants. He springs free, his cock bouncing up to slap against his stomach, and you smile as you crawl down lower on the bed.

“Can I have a taste?” you ask, batting your lashes at him.

“You can have whatever you want,” he moans as your hand wraps around his length. You dip your head down, taking a curious lick of his tip, before taking him into your mouth without warning. He moans again, hands scrambling to find purchase in your hair and planting them there as you bob up and down on his cock.

You can feel him twitch in your mouth already. Fuck, how long has it been since he’s…? Well, you’re about to rock his world.

You rise up quickly, removing him from your mouth but not your hand, and a shiver runs through his body at the sensation of the cool air on his dick.

“You gonna be a good boy for me?”

He looks at you, eyes blown wide with lust, as he nods affirmative.

“I asked,” you squeeze the base of his cock and his mouth falls open, “Are you gonna be a good boy for me?”

“Yes! Yeah, please.”

“Please what?” you ask, one handedly working your underwear down (more easily said than done, but Hughie doesn’t mind the awkwardness).

“Please fuck me, I’ll be good.”

You smile at him like the cat who’s caught the canary.

Once your panties are thrown carelessly next to you at the end of the bed, you crawl up, hands and knees, until you’re hovering above him. You lean down to kiss him, sloppy, lots of tongue, before pressing the absolute sweetest kiss to his forehead.

You line yourself up with his cock and impale yourself on it, gasping in surprise at your own reaction. He feels even bigger than he did in your hand. You take a second, deep breathing.

“Are you okay?” he asks so earnestly it could kill you.

You let out a breathy chuckle.

“Yeah, you’re just, god— you’re big. Give me a second.”

And you both do, with Hughie letting out a sharp whine when you finally do move, at first a slow grind against each other’s bodies, and then honest thrusting.

Your thighs burn as you work yourself up to a rhythm, rising and falling on Hughie’s cock. His hands find your chest again, big calloused fingers massaging you, and genuine affection for this man blooms in your chest.

“Oh fuck this feels amazing,” he groans, bucking his hips up to meet your thrust and you scream, completely involuntarily, at how deep he really is.

“Oh!” you gasp, “you’re telling me, Pretty Boy.”

He meets your thrusts in rhythm now, letting you bounce on his cock as your thumb finds its way to his lips; first tracing them, then delving between them as he eagerly opens his mouth to accept it. Hughie sucks on your thumb and it sends shockwaves up your arm. You’re thankful for your plants, because you’re sure people in the apartments around you would hate to hear the creaking bedframe, to hear you chant his name.

His hips stutter, bucking you slightly.

“Gonna cum pretty boy?”

He nods furiously, still sucking your thumb.

“Beg for it, and I’ll let you,” you coo, teasing him.

He pushes your thumb away with his tongue, and starts absolutely babbling.

“Please fuck holy fuck, shit ahhh— let me cum? Please? I’ll be good I’ll make you cum i’ll do fuck— anything!”

Good enough!

You grab his hands from their place on your chest and move them to your headboard. Immediately his hands white knuckle the railings. You speed up, thighs now absolutely burning, calves ready to cramp, but it’s all worth it. You feel amazing.

He flinches, twitches, a familiar heat floods you, and you slow down, chuckling breathlessly. His right hand leaves the headboard, and reaches down to where your bodies meet. He rubs his thumb against your clit, and it takes only seconds for you to me shaking on top of him, whispering his name as you cum for him.

There isn’t cuddling after, but more flirting; joking and playful jabs at each other. It’s comfy. You freely give him all the information he wants, and then some. He watches in awe again as the vines of your pothos retreat to their normal tangles around their pots and stands.

“If you ever want more information, you know where to find me now,” you say nonchalantly after you throw on a big tee shirt from your drawer, hoping he takes the hint for more. He smiles, about to respond, when you notice something peeking out of his pocket.

“Are those my panties?” you exclaim, “Is that where they went?!”

He looks down, sheepish and bright red, but doesn’t move to empty his pockets.

“Guilty,” he shrugs, “I did say I liked these better.”

You smile, willing to give up the pair. Both of you drift to the door slowly, like a waltz, and when he’s in the door frame, he surprises you.

“So, next time I need information, I’ll just drop by, okay?”

You nod enthusiastically.

“No games or seduction plot but uhhh. If you want to use that thing…”

“Strap on,” you supply, deadpan.

“Yeah, right!” Strap on. If you want to use it.”

“Okay, Hughie.”

Both of you laugh, he presses a kiss to your forehead, and then he’s gone.

Until next time.

[least-carpet]

hello!! 👀 (for the au ask game)?

Hello!! This is so extremely belated, I'm very sorry.

One AU I will never write is one I've outlined loosely in its entirety (so maybe I should just post the outline?) and it's the AU where Jin Ling is a cis girl. This is one of my earliest attempts to answer the question "what would actually make Jiang Cheng happy?" and it involved the conclusion of "Jin Ling living in Lotus Pier and inheriting without the sect being absorbed into the Jin." And I felt like I could make it happen for girl!Jin Ling!

Because the Jin Sect especially sucks, Jin Ling being a girl removes her from the line of succession. She's still given to Jiang Cheng to care for, and like canon Jin Ling, she splits time between both sects with the understanding that she still technically belongs to the Jin, despite them being unwilling to make her sect heir. After Jin Guangshan dies, Jin Guangyao and Jiang Cheng come to an unofficial agreement that she will marry a Jiang disciple of suitably high cultivation and rank and inherit the sect that way.

Jin Rusong, the only available male heir who's not Mo Xuanyu, is watched like a hawk and doesn't get murdered. (I am agnostic re: whether Jin Guangyao had him killed or not. Either way, needing a direct heir and there being more of a reason to expect Rusong to be at risk are both elements that could change the outcome there.) He's a very sweet kid, and much, much smarter than he looks, but he is spoiled to pieces, including by Jin Ling. That's her cute baby cousin! Of course he can have everything he wants!

Qin Su, having her son to protect, does not commit suicide despite finding out about the incest (although she ain't doing too good). The incest is also not revealed publicly. Unfortunately, an Evil Jin Elder—Jin Chan's grandfather—finds out about it somehow.

When Jin Ling returns to the Jin Sect to protect Jin Rusong and investigate Jin Guangyao's secret room, she gains access to—among other things—a treasure trove of blackmail material about the Jin elders.

The Evil Jin Elder, not wanting to be blackmailed or publicly dragged up on charges, blackmails Qin Su into using Jin Ling to fulfill an old written offer of marriage from the Lan sect. This solves a number of different problems for him: no more secret sect investigation, weakens Jin Rusong's faction, reaffirms now-shaky relationship with the Lan. So many birds with one stone! Qin Su is not about this but is also very, very desperate to remain in her position in order to protect Jin Rusong.

Jin Ling wakes up, bound hand and foot, in a carriage to the Lan sect, without her bow, Suihua, or Fairy. (Despite being all tied up, she still resists strenuously with her teeth. "Why does she even need that dog," says one of Evil Jin Elder's henchmen bitterly, as they haul her from carriage to palanquin.) Once there, she learns that the offer specifies a member of the inner family, but not who; and that a certain faction of elders is proposing that she be married to Lan Xichen, i.e. her uncle's secret boyfriend who killed him.

Jin Ling has never gone along quietly with anything she didn't like in her entire life. Her escape involves Lan Qiren, Lan Jingyi, Wei Wuxian, and Li'l Apple on a boat.

Story 1 is the story of how Jin Ling becomes the (still unmarried) heir to the Jiang sect, and it's pre-lingyi. Story 2 involves her eventual marriage, since, as Jiang Sect heir, Jin Ling needs to find a husband. She proposes (like the great-granddaughter of Genghis Khan) that any potential husband has to beat her in a contest that she chooses. Then she has to frantically brainstorm a contest of martial prowess that Lan Jingyi can beat her at. (Wrestling. It's wrestling. This is 100% because Lan Jingyi sucks at so many things and not an excuse for her to get wrestled to the ground by the goofy Lan boy with the very nice arms, Jin Rusong, how dare you insinuate things of that nature—)

[cocrante]

I Start Over With You

[SOLANGELO FANFIC]

summary: After the great battle against the forces of Gaea, Camp Half-Blood and Camp Jupiter had formed a long-lasting alliance. Everything had gone well, and everyone was ready to start anew. This included Nico, who, after confessing his feelings to Percy, was prepared to open a new chapter in his life—perhaps the happiest one the Fates had ever written.

note: the chapters will be updated every Wednesday. If you want to read upcoming chapters of the fanfiction in advance, I invite you to follow me on Patreon. Subscribing is not necessary, these chapters will be added for free on the platform on Mondays and Fridays. Following me there is just a kind and free gesture to support my work c:

Reblogs are highly appreciated c:

[CHAPTER 18]

IT WAS ALWAYS DIFFICULT TO RETURN TO THAT CAMP, ESPECIALLY AT THAT TIME OF YEAR. The snow had settled on the ground, some kids were engaged in snowball fights, while others were building snowmen that vaguely resembled Mr. D. some looked more like baby Minotaurs or other mythological figures.

He took in a deep breath of the cold air of the camp, it was definitely different from New Rome. There were still few demigods inside—some would arrive in the afternoon, others the next day.

He went to settle into his cabin, unpacking his belongings. Somehow, it felt good to be back at the camp.

Nico was about to throw himself onto the bed and rest after that journey through the shadows, when someone knocked on the door of his cabin. With a sigh, he got up and went to open it, only to be greeted by the son of Jupiter. Nico somehow expected him—it had been strange not to encounter him at the entrance.

"How was the trip?" he asked, stepping into the cabin, which was the complete opposite of his apartment. Nico sighed, closing the door. "Fine" he replied, sitting back on the bed. How much he wanted to sleep.

"And how are things going at the camp? Have they started decorating everything yet?" he chuckled, looking around. It was strange, but he had never been inside there before. That cabin was unsettling, a part of him feared it was a vague reproduction of Hades' palace, the only place Nico had ever truly lived. The walls were high and so dark they seemed made of shadows. Jason avoided getting too close, almost afraid of being sucked in. The floor was so polished it created the illusion of walking on air. There weren't many decorations on the walls, just reliefs and torches that reflected—in an almost agonizing dance—the reflections of that green light. Most of the windows—which he noticed had very particular details—were positioned to the west, only a couple to the east that illuminated a corner of the room where he had placed some sort of altar, next to it was a pomegranate vase, its fruits as red as freshly spilled blood. He turned his gaze to Nico, who was sitting on the white poplar bed, a part of him imagined it came directly from Hades. Suddenly Jason found his own cabin—with that statue of Zeus towering over everything—not so bad after all. "Yes" Nico replied, pretending not to notice the tension in his friend's eyes. There was nothing inside that could hurt him. "The Temple of Saturn is overflowing with gifts" he said without much enthusiasm. "Frank said they'll be going overboard or something this year, whatever that means" he muttered, lying back on the mattress, crossing his hands behind his head. Jason chuckled; apparently, the Roman boy had understood well what his former legion intended to do. "Is there anything happening here?" Jason asked. After Annabeth, Nico was the one who knew the most, being one of the few to respect and understand the traditions of ancient Greece.

"In reality, no" he replied, looking up at the ceiling, which was also so dark it seemed invisible. "Once upon a time, they used to celebrate the abundance of harvests and perform theatrical performances that told the story of Mr. D's birth" he explained. "But honestly, no one does it anymore"

Jason felt a bit disappointed; he was used to celebrating and feasting at this time of year. "So it'll be just like any other month" the son of Jupiter concluded. Nico lowered his head toward him, staring at him for a few moments without saying a word. He too would have liked to say it was just like any other month. "Yeah, well, at least there's snow" he tried to spin it differently; everyone at the camp enjoyed the snow, except for the children of Demeter. His friend sighed, it was a meager consolation. Nico sat back down, feeling a certain sympathy for Jason, everything was truly new to him.

Then in the distance, the conch shell sounded, they had been chatting for so long that they hadn't noticed how late it had become. They went out together, careful not to slip on the icy steps, heading toward the mess hall and sitting at their usual spot.

As soon as they settled, they were served by the graceful nymphs, who gracefully seemed to dance among the tables serving the demigods. Then everyone made their offerings to the bonfire, thanking one of the gods. Nico also made his offering, asking something from his father, although perhaps he should have asked a particular goddess. He shrugged, sighing heavily, hoping nonetheless that he had been listened to and that his father hadn't started laughing with some skeleton.

"You look— upset" Jason commented, seeing him return all sulky, Nico hadn't realized he was so lost in his thoughts. "Yeah, I was just thinking about something" he said, sitting down and starting to eat.

"Does it have to do with..." his friend didn't need to finish the sentence—by now, he knew and it was clear who he was talking about. Nico sighed; ever since he had told him, it had become easier to talk about it. "Yes" he confirmed. "We talked last night, and he said he would spend the holidays here at the camp this winter"

Jason's eyes lit up, finally some good news. "Isn't that awesome?"

"I guess so" Nico replied, playing with his food. "I don't know what to say to him" he raised his gaze, looking him straight in the eyes, explaining his problem, which didn't seem like much when said out loud.

"You're making too much of it" he smiled at him. "Just tell him things as they are, and that's it"

Nico just sighed, it wasn't as simple as he thought. "Yes. maybe" he muttered, finally eating something.

Later that afternoon, they went to the basketball court, one of the few activities left to do at the camp besides sparring. Since neither of them felt like pulling out their swords, they went to the court to shoot some hoops. They started with a simple friendly game to warm up their muscles, but it quickly turned into a full-on one-on-one match. Jason was quite fast but often slipped on the ice, while Nico wasn't doing too bad either. Sometimes he seemed to appear like a shadow behind Jason and steal the ball, and then Jason would respond by leveraging his acrobatic skills.

They ended up drenched in sweat, panting heavily, with laughter ready to burst out. It had been a while since Nico had enjoyed himself so much at Camp Half-Blood.

"Gods! You got me good" Jason gasped as he wiped his icy forehead.

"You did the same" Nico replied, catching his breath.

They walked back up the court together, shivering down their spines, heading toward their respective cabins where a long and pleasant hot shower awaited them. It had been a real gamble to go to the basketball court and let their competitive instincts take over, it would be fortunate not to catch a cold.

The son of Hades enjoyed under the hot water for a while, emerging from the bathroom shrouded in a cloud of steam. He put on a sweater and wrapped in clean clothes, finally lay down on the bed to rest.

He didn't really fall asleep, he mostly stared at an indistinct point on the ceiling, thinking, as he has often done in these last months, improvising a hypothetical monologue in which, for once, he would monopolize the conversation.

[CONTENTS]

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