#nobody expects the new hobby

[ghavialis]

It's so funny how easy it is to do things

[linalilia]

sometimes the best thing that you can do to make yourself feel a little better is to just draw your ocs wearing cute maid outfits

[gallusrostromegalus]

Hi! I enjoy your stories very much. As a shy person myself wanting to push myself out of a shell I am curious if you've always been naturally good at meeting people, or do you get social anxiety too? Sorry if this is a super random/personal question. I appreciate you!

I used to get REALLY bad social anxiety but then I accidentally threw myself off the deep end on the first night of college when I heard people assembling furniture out in the hall and thought "If I do not get up right this second and go hang out with those people I'm going to lie here crying about how much I miss my family all night and they wouldn't want that."

So I went out in the hall and said "Hi! I'm [Gallus], and I thought I should meet people instead of being a miserable wreck in my room!"

And then we spent the rest of the night assembling dorm furniture, talking about weeb shit and generally having a good time! and every single time I've gone and introduced myself to someone since then, I've either made MORE friends and had a good time, or had, at worst, a perfectly neutral time. So that positive re-enforcement really helped.

Anyway, the three Guidlines to Meeting People:

Meet people at places they expect to meet people. People do not want to make friends when they are busy with something else- see how much we hate it when people come to the door when we were working or cleaning. But when they're at somewhere they expect to socialize like a Hobby Meeting, a convention, The Club? they're THRILLED to make friends and tbh probably glad you broke the ice. Go to places where people who share interests with you are meeting. They'll probably adopt you.

2. The Worst Thing that will happen is that you will lightly confuse someone. No for real. Nobody is going to scream at you and you're not going to terrorize someone by saying hi. It's fine.

3. Sample conversation script for those of us who have brains that make us act like we're in a movie:

*Be At Place to Meet People* *See someone who looks interesting to talk to, who is not actively doing a physical task or already having a conversation* You: Hello! I love your (Physical aspect of their appearance they chose: Hair color, lobster-themed dress/Dog/Orbital mechanics tattoo)!" Them: Oh, thanks! It (single sentence of explanation: I did it myself/It has pockets/He loves people/I got it for completing my thesis!) (this is a sign that they are open to social activity) You: That's so cool! I'm (you name), and I'm new here. You seem like cool people, can I hang out with you? Them, and I actually for real swear this will be the answer 90% of the time: Sure!

Congratulations! You have introduced yourself to someone. Continue to be a huge dweeb about the thing you have a mutual interest in and you will shortly have a new friend!

[sailing-through-hawkins]

✧ 1 ✧ 2 ✧

When Eddie sees her, sitting on the picnic table, her feet shuffling back and forth on the bench like that one dancing scene from The Breakfast Club (so what if he went to go see it? It's a good flick!), he almost runs back the way he came.

Because here's the thing about Robin Buckley.

While Eddie's status at the bottom of the social ladder is guaranteed, what with his hobbies and his music and his ability to irritate even the most patient of individuals (bar Uncle Wayne, blessed be the man), he doesn't fuck with Robin Buckley.

She was never anything to write home or gossip over coffee about, not when Eddie started his first senior year or even before that, when he was just starting up Hellfire and went to band to see if he could recruit any lonesome souls. Robin wasn't interested then, more keen to avoid his eye and fumble with her uniform, so he chalked her up as another lost to the masses.

Then all the shit with the Zombie Boy (a killer moniker, wouldn't that make for an awesome song title?! But he doesn't know if it'd be like, copyright infringement or whatever) went down and he got a little more protective of his circle, cloaking them from the unmerciful eyes of the Hawkins mob, pushing back when shit hit the fan and that mob tried impeding on his people.

And it worked! Nobody messed with him or his, not enough to be met with more than a snort - hell, even that asshole Hargrove stayed away after Eddie pulled a knife on him in the school parking lot. He wonders if all that wild anger the dick had to choke down went into the fight he had with -

Anyways.

Point is that Eddie knows his place, and thanks to a little intimidation and a lot of false-turned-true-confidence, nobody messes with him.

The thing is - he still doesn't mess with Robin Buckley.

Like he said, she was always another one of the masses to him, and he never expected any different.

But then something happened to her.

Some people say that she got trapped in the mall fire and it burned half her face off, she's just wearing enough makeup to cover it up, but it messed with her head.

Other people say she was always a little - uh, airheaded, he'll say, to be polite - and the Starcourt fire just made it more obvious, burned through the façade she'd wear in public.

One or two voices whisper that she's being haunted, that when she laughs to herself in the silence of the classroom, it's because of the spirits of Starcourt's casualties that lurk in her shadow.

(That last one was Jeff actually, and Eddie has to hand it to him for the poetic imagery.)

Any way he hears it, Eddie's instincts go red alert, telling him to give Robin a wide berth in the hallways, to avoid eye contact for longer than a single moment, to ignore her quiet snickers every time he ties his hair up.

So yeah, when he's about to head to his favourite picnic table and finds wacky Robin Buckley laughing to herself as the leaves around the table kick up without a hint of wind in the air, he almost turns around and shoves himself back into his van. Eddie Munson may be a freak but he's no -

"Oh, you're here."

He freezes in his steps, glancing back to see Robin smiling thinly at him, one legged crossed over the other as she leans back. Her eyes glaze over for a second before she barks out a laugh, making Eddie jump in place.

"Didn't expect you, to be honest." She tilts her head.

Eddie's throat is too dry. He starts a sentence, backtracking when the leaves stop kicking up and it's just his shaky voice in the silence between the trees. "Well, it is my spot, Buckley."

Her eyes glint and she uncrosses her legs just to spread them, leaning in and staring at Eddie with an untethered expression stretching across her face. "Is it?" Her raspy voice asks.

Blood roars in Eddie's ears. His fingers twitch, and he's ready to run.

"Don't." She orders and he freezes. "We need to talk."

He hates it when people say that. It's always, always bad news and it's just too cliché.

"And what, pray tell," he says, raising his arms out with a confidence he doesn't feel. "Is it that you could ask of me?"

The leaves kick up behind him. He resolutely ignores it.

Sighing, Robin crosses her legs, shuffling back on the table (and they call Eddie a heathen, jeez). She looks to the right, where the leaves are swirling in a mini tornado. Her smile is small, and a little sad.

"We need your help."

Eddie gasps as the leaves kick up ferociously, the wind bites at his fingertips and Robin glares at him, at the chaos around them with eyes like nothing he's ever seen.

"Stop it."

"Wh -"

"I said stop," She glares at him and his jaw clicks shut. "We agreed - yeah, yeah, we did! Stop it, you're scaring him!"

"I -"

"I'd say the grown-ups are talking," Robin cuts him off with an eye-roll. "But someone's being a big baby."

"Look, Buckley -"

"I swear to god," Robin waves a hand towards Eddie. "Either you play nice, or we're never figuring this out! Do you wanna be invisible to everyone forever?!"

There's a heavy silence at that.

No leaves rustling, no wind, no nothing.

It's like the entire forest just went...dead.

Then Eddie feels a brush of something down his hand and he screams.

"Awesome!" Eddie jumps when Robin grabs his arm (when did she leave the table?!), staring at her smile as foul terror quakes his bones. "Don't be afraid, Eddie. We won't hurt you."

A rustle of leaves smack his shin and he shrieks, unable to jump (or run) thanks to Robin's steel grip.

"Well, not physically."

"Buckley, I have never messed with you before," Eddie whispers as the something trails down his hand, shoulders and face. He's frozen in the wake of the touch. "Fellow freaks of Hawkins and all, but -"

Whatever it is, it grips Eddie by the shoulders and his jaw clicks shut. Robin's grasp on his arm tightens and she nods, staring into space.

"Okay, so could you do it?"

Silence. Eddie's heartbeat races.

"Like what?"

The something ghosts over his fingers and he almost whimpers.

"Oh, like this!"

With that, Robin grabs Eddie's hand and takes off one of his rings. Before he can sputter or shout or cry, she replaces it with one of her own.

And then, like he was always there, Steve Harrington appears before his eyes.

A bloodied, ghastly Steve Harrington who's staring right into him.

"Holy shit," Eddie whispers and the spectre grins a sharp, toothy grin.

"Hey Munson," Steve croons. "Miss me?"

[azrielslittleslut]

your request are open? Cause I have a request.

Can’t stop thinking about an Azriel x reader fic where the reader is new to the Ic, she’s quiet, out spoken and reserved in group settings

but when az gets her alone, while shes nervous and doesn’t immediately come out of her shell… Az becomes a bit enamoured with her and knows there’s more then meets the eye with her. He starts approaching her and showing her he sees her even when she tries to hide in his shadows…he starts to feel the beginning of the bond and feels it in every little thing she does. How she hides in his shadows without knowing and his shadows grow really fond of her. eventually after all his hard work and giving her all his attention( which makes her really flustered at first and Az thinks it’s adorable) when she trusts him she opens up to him and is a chatter box and so bubbly and loud and speaks her mind shares all her interest and hobbies and she’s super smart and has really good ideas for velaris that Az wants to tell Rhys etc

And then then they find out their mates and the first time they fuck reader is shy once more and doesn’t want to be loud and moan and az obviously won’t have that so he makes her feel so good she can’t help but moan she simply can not hold her noises in and az praises her for it and she blushes and now Az takes great pride in the fact that he’s able to make her loud and everyone else thinks shes so quiet (Just like az is viewed as quiet so he saw you even when you tired to hide in the shadows fade into the background like he so often does) and he’s also a freak so you know Az pulled out all the tricks to make her so blissed out in pleasure that she got out of her own head and let him hear all her pretty noises …Anyway just a thought, if your comfortable writing this smut with plot fic 😂 your writing is the best and I’d be gagged if this gets brought to life and shows up on the timeline

"Always the Quiet Ones"

Azriel x Fem!Reader

Warnings: 18+, porn with plot, smut, p in v, oral (f receiving), use of pet names, fluff

Word Count: 4k

a/n: thanks for your kind words, anon! I hope this lives up to your expectations!

Enjoy!

"And what happened then, Cassian?" Mor asked, her bubbly voice echoing throughout the living room of the townhouse. "Did you kill the beast, or did you let it get away?"

Cassian clapped his large hands together, and the sound made you jump slightly in your seat. "You know I killed it, of course!" he exclaimed in a loud voice.

"Come on, Cass," Rhys drawled from his chair next to the fireplace. "Tell the truth. Nobody has been able to kill a beast like that for centuries, so I find it hard to believe your story."

You sighed as Cassian made a noise deep in his throat, your mind trailing off as he started to defend himself against his family's accusations. You took a small sip of your drink as you rubbed your temple with your free hand.

Why was the Inner Circle so... loud?

You had been recently hired by Rhys to help him with the Night Court’s finances. You had always been good with money, and you had been a valuable asset in the Winter Court, which was your home.

But you had wanted a change of scenery, growing tired of the endless snow and cold air, so you had put your information out, searching for a job elsewhere. It hadn’t taken long for the High Lord of the Night Court to respond, claiming he needed help getting the economy of his court back into good shape. It had fallen apart after the War, and you were beside yourself with happiness when he had hired you.

Rhys had quickly introduced you to his Inner Circle, and you had smiled at them, your heart racing with fear as you introduced yourself. You loathed talking, especially to strangers. You were somewhat awkward and very quiet, usually sticking to the shadowed corners of the room just to stay away from prying eyes.

But with the Inner Circle, that was nearly impossible. Nesta had her special way of always pulling you into unwanted conversations. Feyre would always ask your opinion on her paintings, even though you knew nothing about art. Mor would tell you horrible jokes, always expecting a laugh in response.

It wasn’t that you didn’t like them. They were all so nice, and they were slowly becoming your friends. Perhaps, one day, you might even call them your family. But you were a quiet person overall, and their boisterous personalities were too much to handle sometimes.

“Enjoying yourself?” Azriel asked, his deep voice low.

You jumped slightly, your hand going to your chest. "Azriel," you gasped. "You snuck up on me."

He chuckled, his hazel eyes bright. A ghost of a smile graced the corner of his mouth as he said, "Well, it is my job to sneak up on people."

Azriel was the only one in the Inner Circle who you didn't mind being around. Like you, he was quiet and outspoken, always keeping to himself. Despite your usual introverted demeanor, you found yourself drawn to him, like a moth to a flame.

It didn't help that he was absolutely beautiful.

Black hair, golden-brown skin, full lips. Eyes like molten gold with spots of green and brown... He was breathtaking.

You shook your head, pulling yourself out of your own thoughts. "Well, you're very good at it," you said, and you cursed yourself as soon as the words left your mouth. You were horrible at having conversations, and it was even worse with Azriel staring at you like he was.

Azriel laughed again. "You didn't answer my question." As he spoke, one of his shadows darted out to play with a strand of your hair.

The odd gesture from the shadow felt... comforting, and it gave you enough confidence to say, "No. I'm not enjoying myself. It's too loud, but Feyre invited me tonight, so I don't want to upset her by leaving."

He nodded once, a strand of dark hair falling across his brow. "At least you're honest," he said as his eyes scanned the room, full of soft affection as he looked at his family. "That's something I envy about you."

You smiled softly as you felt a warmth enter your chest, chasing away the cold emptiness you had felt since moving to the Night Court. You truly loved it here, but you had felt so lonely, and you spent most of your days with your face buried in the finance books.

"If you ever need a break from the noise," Azriel said, pulling you from your thoughts, "you can find me in the shadows. It's always... quiet there."

You raised your glass to him, a full smile on your lips now. "I think I'll take you up on that, shadowsinger."

---

Azriel groaned quietly, his shadows restlessly swarming around him as the family gathering raged on. The drinks were flowing freely tonight, and he was sure all of Velaris could hear Feyre's drunken laughter.

He stood from his seat, aiming for the door, but he stopped once he saw you sitting in the corner next to a bookshelf. It was obvious that you were trying to hide, and he couldn't help but smile to himself at the sight of it. He had been in the same position for hundreds of years, always wanting to stay in the shadows, and he found it amusing coming from you.

With a deep breath, Azriel winnowed into the shadows, appearing right next to you. He stayed quiet as he leaned down to whisper in your ear, "You will have to try harder than that to stay hidden, especially from me."

You jumped, and he smiled, content with the fact that he could sneak up on you so easily. "Who says I was trying to stay hidden?" you snapped back. "I just like to observe. I'm not one to be... in the middle of all of that."

Az leaned against the shelf, his eyes studying your face. He couldn't deny how pretty you were, with those full lips and expressive eyes. He had been drawn to you from the first time Rhys introduced his new bookkeeper to the Inner Circle, but he had kept his distance, deciding it was best to stay away.

Yet, here he was, always seeking you out in the shadows of the family gatherings. There was something different about you, but he couldn't place his finger on it.

"Well," Azriel said, his voice low, "we have that in common, at least. How about we leave, and go somewhere more quiet?"

You paused for a second, your eyes shadowed. "I'm fine, Az," you murmured. "Go be with your family. I'm not in a very talkative mood tonight."

Az blinked, unable to think of anything to persuade you to go with him. "Very well," he said at last, lowering his head in a mock bow. "Enjoy the rest of your evening."

He walked away, once again taking his seat next to Cassian, who was talking to Mor about a new sword he had bought. Normally, Az would have been interested in the conversation, but his attention was still occupied with you.

You were still sitting in the same spot, your face hidden in the shadows. His shadows, he realized. They swarmed around your body, content to hide you from the loud conversations going on in the living room. You didn't seem to notice the dark tendrils swirling around your body as if you were used to hiding away like this.

That's odd, Azriel thought to himself. Nonetheless, he made a vow to himself in that moment. He was going to do whatever it took to bring you out of your shell.

---

You sighed as you looked down at the paper in front of you, the numbers blending together as your eyes grew weary. You had been trying to do these calculations for what seemed like hours, but you had made no progress whatsoever.

"How did the finances get so messed up?" you grumbled to yourself as you placed your face in your hands. "This is impossible."

"Nothing is impossible," said a voice from the doorway. You raised your head just enough to see Azriel leaning against the doorframe of the library, his wings tucked in tight. He was dressed in his leathers, and his shadows were swirling around him. He looked so handsome like that, you thought, but you were more annoyed that he had interrupted you.

You leaned against the back of the chair. "What are you doing here?"

He pushed himself away from the doorway, sauntering into the library on those long legs of his. You found yourself staring at the way his thigh muscles flexed as he walked toward you, but you quickly pushed those thoughts away. "I came to check on you. Rhys said he hadn't heard from you since early this morning, and I wanted to make sure you hadn't died in the last twelve hours."

Your eyes widened in horror. "Twelve hours?" Had you really been down here that long? "What time is it?"

Azriel shrugged his broad shoulders. "Almost midnight." He looked at you with those beautiful hazel eyes of his, and you suddenly felt that it was entirely possible to get lost in his gaze. "You should get some rest. The finances have been in shambles for a year now. They can wait another day," he said, his voice gentle.

Slowly, you stood from the chair, exhaustion suddenly hitting your body in strong waves. You walked over to him, and his lovely shadows darted out, wrapping themselves around your wrist. You smiled down at them as you said, "Thank you for coming to get me. Nobody really knows I exist... Sometimes I wonder if anybody truly sees me."

Azriel raised a scarred hand, placing it gently along your cheek. He raised your face up slightly, just enough for you to meet his gaze. "I know," he said, his voice soft. This close, you could count each of his long eyelashes, so dark they looked like splatters of ink. "I can see you hiding in the shadows, always wanting to keep to yourself. But you should know that I see you. I will always see you."

For all your life, you had tried to stay hidden away. But his words unlocked something deep inside of your chest, something that even the shadows couldn't hide. Perhaps, for once, it would be nice to be seen.

---

Azriel was relentless in seeking you out, always finding ways to talk to you, to bring you out of the shadows. He had brought you food on those long nights when you stayed locked away in the library, so focused on your work that you forgot to eat. He would bring you books he knew you would like, doing anything and everything to see that beautiful smile lighting up your face.

At first, you had been so flustered and annoyed, obviously not used to having someone shower you with attention. Azriel kept pressing on, as he thought it was rather adorable to watch the way your face would redden every time he did something for you.

He had been doing this for weeks now, and slowly, you had come out of your shell, but only with him. You were still quiet and reserved around the rest of the Inner Circle, but Azriel didn't mind- he found that he loved the fact that he was the one whom you trusted enough to be yourself with.

It turned out that you were quite the chatterbox when you wanted to be, and he loved listening to you talk and laugh. He could sit and watch you do absolutely nothing for hours on end, and he would be perfectly content.

The two of you were sitting in the training ring of the House of Wind. Earlier, Az had brought you here, as you had claimed you wanted to see how an Illyrian fought. He had obliged you, of course, unable to deny you anything.

Besides, he rather enjoyed the blush that had crept up your neck when he had taken his shirt off. And he hadn't missed the way you had rubbed your legs together as you watched him train.

"I think the court needs a budget," you said, your voice loud despite the wind. "What do you think?"

Azriel hummed as he sharpened Truth Teller. "I think that's a great idea. But good luck trying to convince Rhys. I don't think the male has the word budget in his vocabulary."

You rolled your eyes. "Maybe I could tempt him with a new jacket. The Mother only knows how much he loves his clothes."

Azriel barked out a laugh, unable to control himself. You always had a way to make him laugh, with your unfailing wit and humor. Everything you did lit a fire deep within his bones. Hell, just earlier today he had been unable to keep his own arousal under control as he had watched you eat breakfast. The way your lips had wrapped around the fork, so full and luscious-

"Az, did you hear me?" you asked. Your eyes were glittering, and he wondered if you knew where his thoughts had gone.

He cleared his throat. "Sorry. What were you saying?" His shadows had wrapped around you as they always did when the two of you were together. It was evident that they loved being around you just as much as he did, as they always sought you out, even when he hadn't commanded them to. They would hide you away at the loud family gatherings, wrapping themselves around your body just enough to keep you hidden from the prying eyes of his family.

Azriel wondered if you had noticed their strange behavior.

You giggled, and the sound danced along Azriel's skin. "I was saying that I think we need to go to Rhys about the budget. Plus, I have some other ideas about ways to improve Velaris." You bit your lip as you looked down at the ground. "Not just finance stuff. I have other ideas."

He wasn't surprised, not at all. You were so smart and intelligent, and he wished others could have the pleasure of knowing you as he did. You had told him of some of your ideas, and he knew Rhys would love them. Az knew that you just didn't want to bring it up to him yourself.

Azriel moved forward, placing his hand on your thigh. He could feel the heat of your skin through the thick leggings you wore. "Tell me," he murmured. "I want to hear everything you have to say."

You looked up and smiled at him, and Azriel felt something tighten in his chest at the sight. "Then get comfortable, shadowsinger. You're in for a long night."

---

Azriel pushed you against the wall of his bedroom, his breath hot against your skin as he trailed kisses down your neck. "Are you sure about this, love?" he asked, his voice low with desire.

You threw your head back against the wall, your eyes closed as his lips moved against your sensitive flesh. "Yes," you gasped. "I want you. Please."

Over the past few weeks, you and Azriel had grown closer, and you could no longer deny your obvious attraction to him. He had taken you on dates out on Velaris. He had taken you flying across the Illyrian mountains.

Azriel had brought you to life in ways that you never could have imagined. He had brought you out of that quiet shell that you had lived in for centuries, and you wanted to tie yourself to him in every way possible.

He groaned as he lifted you up, moving his hands down to your thighs to wrap them around his waist. "I love the sound of you begging," he said. He carried you over to his bed, dropping you gently onto the mattress.

You laughed softly as you reached for him, pulling his strong body down to yours. "Don't get used to it," you whispered against his lips, your hands moving to the fastenings that held his leathers closed.

He chuckled as he moved his hands to help you with the fastenings. "We'll see about that, angel." The dark glimmer in his eyes told you that he was going to do whatever it took to hear you beg again, and you wanted to laugh at the sight.

He might have shattered the quiet walls you had built around yourself, but he could never take your stubbornness away.

You weren't entirely sure how the rest of your clothes were discarded, only that you were lying on his bed, and he had his head between your legs. You couldn't help the soft moan that escaped your lips as he dove his tongue into your folds, torturing you with pleasure.

"Please, Az," you whimpered. "More."

You felt Azriel smile against your cunt. "There's that begging that I love," he said as he moved his tongue up to circle your clit.

You covered your mouth with a hand to keep from crying out in pleasure. You felt one of his shadows trail up your body, wrapping itself around your wrist. You didn't fight as it pulled your hand away from your mouth at the same time that Azriel thrust one of his long fingers into you. You whimpered again as you felt him curl it inside of you, hitting that sweet, spongy spot along your inner walls.

"Be loud for me," Azriel murmured, his face still buried in your pussy. "Let me hear you."

You shook your head, too afraid of the sounds that would come out of your mouth if you lost control. You were in Azriel's bedroom in the House of Wind, and you knew Nesta and Cassian were right down the hall. What if they heard you?

Azriel, who seemed very intent on his task, added another finger, curling it deep inside of you. He sucked on your clit at the same time, and your vision went white with pleasure. "Oh, fuck," you moaned, your back arching off the bed. "Yes, yes, yes."

"My good girl," he groaned as he continued to wring pleasure from your body, only stopping once you shattered from your climax. You were unable to stop the moans and screams that escaped your lips as you came, not giving a damn who heard you.

Azriel crawled up your body, laying a trail of sloppy kisses along your stomach and chest. He kept his eyes locked onto yours as he reached down and swiped a hand through your release. You watched with blurry eyes as he coated his cock with it, preparing himself.

"Relax for me, love," he murmured as he pressed his forehead against yours. "I will be gentle."

You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, careful of his wings, as you leaned up and pressed a gentle kiss on his lips. "I love you, Azriel," you whispered to him. "And I trust you."

Azriel sucked in a breath, his eyes going wide as he looked down at you. You gasped as you felt something tighten in your chest, as if a cord was there, being stretched. You felt that cord reach out from your body, the bridge of connection between your soul and Azriel's.

"Mate," Azriel gasped, his eyes still wide as he looked down at you. They were full of nothing but love and awe as he looked at your naked body splayed beneath him. "You're my mate."

His shadows swarmed you then, covering your body in a way that reminded you of the kisses Azriel had placed along your skin. "You're mine," you snarled softly, wrapping your legs around his waist to pull him into you.

Slowly, Azriel pushed his cock into your dripping folds, and you moaned loudly at the stretch. He was so big, and he filled your body in a mind-shattering way. "Say it again," he commanded.

"You're mine." He followed your words with a powerful thrust, one so hard you heard the bed slam into the wall. "And I am yours."

Even though Az had said he would be gentle, it seemed he was unable to control himself. He set an almost punishing pace, but you didn't mind. You met his passion with your own, and you screamed his name repeatedly as he fucked you so deeply and thoroughly that your breasts bounced in time with the bed slamming into the wall.

A distant part of you wondered if it would be broken come morning.

"Azriel!" you screamed as he moved his hand down to your lower belly, pressing down gently. The movement caused your eyes to roll back and your jaw to slacken as you felt nothing but him. A string of moans and screams left your lips, sounds that were primal and animalistic.

You had completely lost control of yourself, and it was all Azriel's doing.

"Fuck, yes," he snarled as he slammed into you, his pelvic bone rubbing deliciously against your clit with each movement. "That's it. Let me hear you. Let everyone hear how good your mate is fucking you."

Azriel's thrusts grew sloppy and unhinged as he neared his climax, his breathing ragged. His hair clung to his forehead in messy strands, his chest glistened with sweat- he was so beautiful like this. He looked totally fucked out of his mind, and you suddenly realized how lucky you were that he was yours.

"Cum for me, baby. Let me feel you," he pleaded, his eyes rolling back into his head.

Your body obeyed him, and you screamed as you came, scratching your nails deep into his back as pleasure coursed through your veins. That golden thread in your chest tightened as Az slammed into you one final time, a primal groan escaping his throat as he filled you with his seed.

You held his trembling body against you, your mixed releases trailing down your thighs. Azriel looked at you as if you were the center of his world, his being. "I love you," he whispered, leaning down to kiss your swollen lips.

Between you, that golden thread, that precious bond that linked you to him, glowed brightly.

---

The next morning, you and Azriel reluctantly pulled yourself out of his bed. He had kept you up most of the night with his lovemaking, and your body was quite sore from all the positions he had put you in.

When the two of you entered the dining room, starving from the night's... vigorous activities, Nesta and Cassian were already seated at the table. Nesta was smiling down at her food, while Cassian looked at you and Azriel with a gleam in his eyes.

"Mornin' you two," he said by way of greeting. "Sleep well?"

Azriel pulled out your chair for you, his eyes on Cassian. "We slept like babes."

Nesta chuckled, her eyes looking at you over the rim of her tea cup. "I wish we could say the same. Right, Cass?"

Horror filled your body, and you looked to Azriel's shadows for cover, pleading with them to shield you from Nesta and Cassian's teasing. They had heard you, and you wanted to die on the spot.

Azriel leaned over and pressed a gentle kiss on your cheek, his lips warm and soft on your skin. "Don't worry, love," he assured you. "Nesta and Cassian have no room to talk. I've had to listen to them, and smell them, for the last year." He turned his head to the other couple, his brows raised. "So go ahead and make fun. We will make it very hard for the two of you to get any sleep from now on."

You blinked at Azriel. Like you, he was quiet around others, and you were shocked at his words. You didn't think you had ever heard him say so much in the company of other people.

Nesta set down her cup, her eyes full of amusement. She looked over to her mate with a smile on her face. "I guess it's true what they say, Cass," she said, leaning back in her chair. "It's always the quiet ones."

general tag list: @quiet-loser @andreperez11 @lilah-asteria

@anarchiii @inkedinshadows @panther-girl-124

@scorpioriesling

[lamentationsofalonelypotato]

You Call It Madness But I Call It Love

Chapter 1: You Shouldn't Have Answered The Door

Pairing: Soldier Boy x f!reader, Reader POV

Summary: When the reader left Payback 40 years ago after a falling out with her childhood best friend she never looked back, but when two men show up to her apartment and start asking her questions about the past, the reader begins to think those things can’t stay hidden and starts to question what’s real and what’s fantasy.  This is a re-telling of The Boys Season 3, where the reader is a supe who's known Soldier Boy since 1927. The chapters will fluctuate between past and present. This is chapter one of my "You Call It Madness But I Call It Love" series. (I'm so bad at summaries please forgive me!)

Word Count: 3.6K

Warnings: References to sex, Cursing (once or twice), Soldier Boy might be, is, really, absolutely, a little OOC,

Note: This is told from Reader's perspective. Any references to the reader is made using you or your. There is minimal use of y/n. I tried my best to proofread, but nobody's perfect. If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite!

Internal Monologue is in first person and is in italics

Masterlist

Chapter 2

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

Present Day

Your head rests against your forearms on your desk, jerking upwards as a loud rhythmic knocking assaults the front door of your apartment.

What?

You think to yourself, rubbing your face with your hands. Your sketchpad was laid open on your desk beneath your head, the rough sketch of an egret bowing its head along the bank of a small pond splayed over the page in shades of gray. It would be the first in your new series of nature paintings that you would be unveiling in a month.

At least I didn't poke my eye out with the pencil. You think eyeing the sharpened point of the pencil that was dangerously close to your face a few seconds ago.

You turn your wrist to glance at your watch and note the time. It was an antique, square faced and strung on a simple black band, a reminder of a past life that you couldn't bear to part with.

Who would come see me at 8:00 am on a Monday?

For a minute you try to remember if you'd received a call from the curator of the gallery downtown, or if there had been a meeting or a lunch with your agent to discuss your next installment of work, but nothing comes to mind.

When you officially retired from being a hero you decided to become a full time artist, a hobby you had since you were a child. You hadn't expected it explode. You had enough money from your heroing career to live several lifetimes, not unwelcome given the fact that you couldn't die, not in the traditional sense at least, so art was supposed to just be a way for you to off steam. But you were happy with your life now, a lot happier than you had been when you were a hero on Payback. The thought of your previous employment with Vought sours in your mouth followed by the unavoidable thought of Ben that you push down with a well practiced sigh.

You didn't feel like reliving all that over again right now, though you knew it would probably happen later. It came in waves, especially at night when you found it difficult to sleep, the melatonin wasn't working, and all you really wanted was a hard drink.

Sobriety sucked.

The knocking persists, rattling around in your head like a bee trying to get out of a plastic cup.

"Fine. I'm coming." You shout standing up from your desk and making your way from the wall that serves as your studio towards the front door of your apartment, while trying to rub away the line the page made on your cheek.

Your apartment was the one extravagance you allowed yourself. Despite the amount of money you had, flashing it had never been a priority even in your hero days. The apartment was open concept with exposed brick walls, tall North facing windows that angled away from the inside and jutted outward over a raised wooden floored area that served as your studio. A large modern kitchen sat just to the right of the front door with stainless steel appliances, on another wall a tv hung above a leather couch and held a dark hallway that lead to your bedroom and the guest bedroom, the other walls were covered in your work, and the final wall held several bookshelves with art supplies and your vinyl record collection. A collection you started forever ago and that continued to grow with each passing year.

Need to get another bookshelf. You note looking at the limited space that remained.

You look through the peep hole in the solid metal apartment door. A tall dark haired man wearing a Hawaiian shirt and a black duster and a thin younger guy with brown curly hair stare back at you.

"I don't want to buy any girl scout cookies." You shout through the heavy metal of the door.

The younger guy snorts.

"y/f/n y/l/n?" The dark haired man asks an accent tilting the ends of his words.

"Who's asking?"

He pulls out a badge, holding it up to the peep hole. "I'm Agent Butcher, this is Agent Campbell. We’re from the CIA, here to ask you a couple of questions about Soldier Boy."

At the mention of Ben's hero name you pause. You had avoided thinking about your former best friend as much as possible over the past forty years. Your relationship with Ben was complicated, the final few days you spent together even more complicated than the early years.

It hurt to compare what your life with him was like before you both became supes to the life you had together after. You had grown up together, forced into close proximity because your parents were friends and then became best friends yourselves. You stayed friends, before you both got injected with Compound V and a few years later moved on to Payback together. You were the only person able to keep Ben in check and as violent as his temper was, he didn't like to cross you. You were the only person who knew the real him, had been with him longer than anyone else. Not that he ever admitted that to you or admitted that he cared about you, but you thought somewhere deep down that he had to, felt at least something for you.

That was the problem. You were in love with him, cared deeply about him, cared more about him than anyone else you'd ever had in your life. On the night you finally slept together you were happy, you thought he felt the same way, and then the next day at his premiere you found him in the bathroom with Countess bent over a sink. The fight that followed had been your resignation from Payback and also the reason why you weren't there when Ben died.

Your jaw clenches together at the memory, followed by guilt. You were always there for him, you had his back just as he had yours, but the one time you hadn't been there-

You open the door to look at them. "The singer?"

"What?" Agent Butcher looks confused.

"The artist? Soulja Boy-" You arch a brow feigning confusion. "Because honestly I don't understand why the CIA would be asking me about that."

“No.” Agent Butcher holds up a photo.

You keep your face impassive. It’s a photo of Ben and you at a movie premiere the week before he left to go to Nicaragua. Both of you were standing in your supe suits, your own was a sleeveless black one piece suit with purple embellishments that traced from the sides of your ankles and stretched up under your armpits, while a dark hood covered your head and a black mask hid the bottom of your face. You always thought you looked more like a supervillain in it, but you were thankful that it hid your identity. It was so long ago, but you still remember that night clearly. The ridiculous movie, the afterparty where everyone was so tipsy and the smell of alcohol burned against your nose, and finally when you went to the bathroom and found Ben and Countess together, the immeasurable rage followed by heartbreak that you felt when you saw them.  Not to mention the fight that followed when Ben trampled all over your heart and stated that you meant nothing to him.

“You’re here to talk to me about my mom?” You flit your eyes back to the two men standing in the doorway, easily slipping into the lie that you and Legend invented.

“Your mom?” Agent Campbell looks confused.

“Yeah. Indigo? I mean y’all can come in if you want-“ You open the door wider, understanding that they won't leave, before you begin to move towards the kitchen. “I apologize in advance. I’m not quite myself, I was up late working.” You pause halfway into the kitchen. “I’m going to make some coffee, you guys want some?” You eye the man in the black coat. "Or tea?"

“Coffee is fine."

You find the coffee filters and shuffle through the cupboards to find a bag of coffee, still trying to wake up. Staying up late wasn't unusual for you. You tended to find the urge to create in the wee hours of the morning, not to mention everything that happened in the past kept you up.

You open the bag of coffee to smell the grounds, thinking that it will wake you up, but as soon as you do the smell of Agent Butcher and Agent Campbell washes over you.

You could smell the compound V in their veins pumping through their bodies with every beat of their hearts.

So, they're supes. You think to yourself, pouring the grounds into the coffeemaker. Which means they probably aren't from the CIA.

Despite the realization, you weren't worried. Your particular ability was a well-kept secret, a secret that only Ben knew despite you being on Payback. Stan Edgar and the others had believed that "Indigo," the hero name assigned to you, had enhanced strength and senses, but it was more than that. You had an ability that, if brought to the public, would probably land you in a government facility. Laying low had it's perks, your freedom was one of them.

You watch them begin to walk around your living room examining the artifacts of your new life, the one you crafted when everything fell apart. There wasn't anything in the living room to arouse suspicion that you were the original Indigo. The only remnants of your past life that remained were in a wooden trunk at the back of your walk in closet, hidden behind a collection of paint splattered overalls almost identical to the pair you were wearing right now.

"You've got a nice place." The younger guy says looking around.

"Thanks. It's rent controlled. I got lucky-" You fiddle with the coffeemaker to buy yourself some time.

Why were they here to ask me about Ben? It had been 40 years, hardly seems relevant now. And why were they pretending to be CIA?

"You're an artist?" Agent Butcher asks, staring at the canvas sitting on an easel by your desk. It was a collection of multicolored dark greens that swirled together, flecked with pieces of gold that shone in the brilliant sunlight from the wall of windows where your studio was.

"Yeah. And I tend to paint my best at night. Hence the coffee" You turn, placing your hands on the island to face the two men.

“You’re really good.” Agent Campbell says examining some of the canvases on the wall.

“Thanks.”

“So your mum eh?” Agent Butcher turns to look at you. You note the smirk on his face and incredulous raising of his brow.

He doesn't believe me. Hard not to. I don't age.

“Yes?” You raise an eyebrow to challenge him

“You look a lot like her.”

“Thanks. I think there’s a compliment in there somewhere.” You look from Butcher to the younger guy who has moved on to look at your vinyl collection. "And I'm pretty sure that most kids look like their parents. But I'm not a geneticist."

"NO WAY! You have a signed copy of Billy Joel's Glass House!" Agent Campbell shouts holding up the vinyl cover in awe.

"Yeah." You can't help but smile at his enthusiasm.

"How did you-“

"Hughie." Agent Butcher sighs.

The younger guy now identified as Hughie puts the record back with a frown, before turning back to the collection.

“But you have the same name.” Agent Butcher's eyes flit to yours.

“She named me after herself. I’m sure the CIA can locate my birth certificate."

“Right.” Agent Butcher smiles, but it’s tight lipped.

You stand there for another minute looking from Agent Butcher to Hughie, trying to think of why they're here. "So what do you want to know?”

“Well is your mum around-“

You allow your shoulders to droop and take in a shaky breath. "She died about a year ago. Cancer."

They weren't the first to come here and accuse you of being Indigo. Legend and you had come up with the farce to protect you, help you start over, but you hadn't wanted to part with your name. So other precautions were put in place: a funeral plot was purchased and a death certificate was issued as was a fake passport, I.D, and birth certificate that made you thirty two rather than over one hundred.

“Really? I thought Indigo-“ It’s enough to make Hughie turn around and look at you.

“Don’t read everything Vought says." You interrupt. "That experimental shit they put in her veins may have made her powerful, but it couldn’t protect her from that.” You sigh again to sell the lie, before turning to the coffee maker, to pour them and yourself a cup. "There should be some milk in there, sugar's in the bowl." You gesture to the refrigerator and the small blown glass sugar bowl on the counter next to the coffee maker.

Hughie moves into the kitchen to pour himself a cup, but Agent Butcher continues to eye you suspiciously.

“It wasn’t in the news.” He grunts.

“They covered it up pretty well. I mean do you blame them? One of the first supes gets killed by something like cancer. Can’t be good for Vought given they pride themselves on showcasing unstoppable heroes. I mean can you imagine if Homelander or Queen Maeve died of something like cancer? Doesn’t look good.” You shrug your shoulders and take a sip from the coffee in your hands. “What did you want to talk to her about?”

“Soldier Boy.” Butcher moves to the coffeemaker and it takes a strong amount of willpower to stop the urge to turn towards him, but you know that you need to act indifferent.

“Did she talk to you at all about him?” Hughie moves to one of the bar stools on the opposite side of the island with his coffee in front of him.

“Yeah.” You look down at the mug with a sigh, rolling the warm glass between your hands. “He really did a number on her. Plus towards the end she started seeing him everywhere."

The emotion that you summon is not fake. You allow a small amount to trickle over the dam you built to protect yourself from falling back into the pit you fell into when Ben broke your heart and then died. When you broke every piece of glass in your apartment and threw your couch through the wall.

“I’m so sorry for your loss.” Hughie looks sincere when he says it.

Why is someone like him hanging out with this guy? You think to yourself eyeing Agent Butcher again.

“It’s been hard. But I took care of her, sometimes it was only me. It’s kind of hard to restrain an 103 year old with super strength.” You smile to yourself at the joke.

“So you’re a supe?” Hughie takes a sip from his coffee mug.

“No I was just able to talk her down. Guess that first batch of Compound V doesn’t work the same way. Never transferred. Plus my dad wasn’t a supe so maybe it just diluted.” You shrug, the lies weaving easily through the air. 

“But she did talk to you about him?” Agent Butcher presses. He's leaning against the counter to your left.

“Yeah.”

“And?”

“I mean what do you want to hear? There’s a lot.” The mug sends a pleasant warmth through your hands as you hold it, but does little to stop the chill of the past from creeping up your spine.

“Start at the beginning.”

“Well.” You take another sip of coffee. “I don’t know details-details but- I just know that she grew up with him, they were from the same neighborhood in Philadelphia.  All that shit they made up about Soldier Boy being from a poor family was just propaganda. His dad owned half the steel mills in the state of Pennsylvania. Used to invest in property with my grandfather. Soldier Boy and my mom were friends. When he got the Compound V shot, she did too. They were looking for female and male volunteers. I think he asked her to? Or-“ You shrug your shoulders to push away the memory of the day Ben told you about the experiments. When he told you he was finally going to make something of himself and convinced you to go with him.

“They were dating?” Agent Butcher asks.

The question makes you pause. It was difficult to think about that, difficult to relive the memories of Ben continuing to push you away and his final refusal to admit he loved you. Ben never did say that to you. You had been through so much together, so many years as friends and then after the night you finally were together he threw you away like you meant nothing.

“No, but he really hurt her-“ You avoid their gaze.

“What did he do?” Hughie asks leaning forward on the counter.

“They had been through a lot together and I think when their friendship began to transfer to relationship he pushed her away. My mother said something about him refusing to admit he loved her. I think the last straw when she caught him with Countess.”

“Do you know anything about how he died?”

The memory of the phone call strikes you in the chest, when Stan Edgar himself called to tell you Ben was dead. When the darkness swallowed you whole and all you felt was guilt and heart break over the fight you had and how you left him alone when he needed you most.

“It hurt my mother a lot. Broke her. She never really got over him, no one was good enough, not even my dad. She drove him away too and then it was just us.”

“Was she there when Soldier Boy died?” Hughie spins the coffee mug in his hands.

“No. She left Payback  before that mission. It was right after she caught Countess and him together.” You force a shrug. “I think she regretted not being there. She was almost as indestructible as him, but I think she felt worse because they had a big fight right before.”

“So she didn’t know about Nicaragua or the thing that killed him?” Agent Butcher raises an eyebrow.

You cock your head to the side feigning confusion. “What are you talking about? Soldier Boy got vaporized in a nuclear explosion.”

“Well I think we’ve wasted enough of your time.”

They get up to leave.

“Wait-“

 Agent Butcher turns to look at you. 

“Why are you asking me about him? It's been what? Forty years since he died-"

"That's classified love. Thank you for your time."

You watch them leave, but listen to them as they walk down the hallway.

“So do you believe her?” Hughie’s voice echoes in your ears.

“Not a bit. Maybe we trail her for a day. See if she really is an artist." Agent Butcher grunts. "At least until we go to Russia."

Russia? Why would they go to Russia?

You stand there for a second, holding the coffee mug in your hands. As you do the memories of the past 90 years wash across your mind, breaking through the damn that you built to protect yourself.

You were friends for years. You loved him since the moment you met. There were good times before the serum and then the bad, when he got famous and you were there to keep him in check. Sure you may have annoyed him, but he liked that about you, that you were able to bring him back from the edge. The day you finally had sex you remembered it, it was special, or you thought it was. You were excited that finally he loved you as much as you loved him. But then it all fell apart. That fight hadn’t been pretty. When you left him you felt yourself begin to slip, you didn’t eat or drink for days and when you finally got the phone call you thought it was him trying to apologize, but it was Stan.

You think again about Russia and finally your mind drifts to Countess.

She was the one that said that the Russians killed Ben, she saw it happen, saw his body get taken away-

Your jaw clenches together in anger and frustration as you remember the last time you saw her, when she taunted you and you almost ripped off her head. You never heard it directly from her that Ben was dead, only heard it from Stan. Of course the ridiculous funeral for Ben that you were expected to go to would mean that you saw her, but you hadn't gone, didn't want to keep up the charade. Instead you went to Philadelphia and walked the streets aimlessly with a bottle of whiskey in your hand, remembering what it was like when you were kids. Sometimes you think it all would have been different if you never got the injection, if you said no when he showed up in your bedroom and asked you to come with him. He was your oldest friend. The only real person you'd ever loved or cared about. The memory of the fight rings in your ears but you push it down.

You think again about Countess.  She was the reason why Ben and you had the fight. The reason you weren't there in Nicaragua. Regret spikes in your chest. You should have been there that day, should have tried to save him. You always had each others backs and the one time you weren't there he died.

Maybe it was time to pay her a visit.

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

Thank you for reading! If you'd like to be added to the taglist for this series let me know :)

Taglist: @roseblue373

[heartfullofleeches]

Maniac

Yans (Nerd, Bully, Student Council) + Dismissive Creep Reader Blurb [G.N All]

Warning: Bullying, mentions of dead animals, violence, death

(An: Never been huge of the school setting but this came up while listening to a song with the same title. If you can guess it you get a cookie)

Creep Reader who's friends with the school punching bag. Saying they're acquaintanced is a bit of a stretch as nerd hangs out with them because nobody bothers them when they sit next to this freak and they dress their wounds, and Creep only tolerates them because they take pictures of every blossoming bruise and cut.

You never offer input in their one-sided conversations, scribbling away in that notebook of yours as they go insane rambling on about what their bullies did that day and how it feels everyone appears to be out to get them. All you ever do with anyone is watch, listen, and write. It's honestly like talking to a brick wall sometimes.... which is why they had no problem accepting the only good advice ever given to them.

"Y'know.... Even if I report this to the principal it wouldn't stop. They'll get suspended for a few days and when they come back - they'll probably just kill you. If you want this to stop, you need to find a new target for them."

A new target...There's only one person more of a freak than them.

"Y/n takes pictures of dead animals."

The rumor spread like wildfire. A tale spun by a sock puppet account and sprinkled throughout the halls. Really, even they weren't sure if the rumor was true or not, but with that camera and your track record it wasn't out of possibility. All eyes were immediately on you. Your phone number was leaked and the threats and queries poured in. People would point at carcasses on the road and make sure you were in earshot when they joked about hoping nobody was taking pictures. They went so far as to sneak a dead bird in your bag when you weren't looking and poured milk on your items when they couldn't find any. They stole your gym clothes, wrote foul things on your desk and locket - but none of them had ever touched you.

As expected, you had no reaction to this. That's the thing your "friend" had always been jealous of you for. So closed off from the world, from the pain it gives. With nobody slamming their head in the lockers anymore, people began to appreciate their talents and hobbies. They made friends. Real ones. They naturally started to drift away from you, but they always stopped when they saw you in the halls.

"Hey, Y/n.... How have you been?"

"Fine."

"None of this is bothering you?..."

"As long as they don't touch me - I'm fine."

All that's where you left the conversation - and your friendship. Your dismissal to it all lead many to give up after a few weeks, but one remained. The same blight on your friend's life since the start of school. Sure, your reactions were lackluster - but they knew they could break you. It was only a matter of time - and you had just given them the key.

"Hey - Freak!"

Your head bounces off the metal door as you're thrown into your locker.

"Can't touch you, huh? The fuck are you going to do about it?"

You rise to your feet, touching the wet spot at the back of your skull. "If we're going to do this, it's better we do it where nobody can see us."

"Ha? - don't want people to see you lose a few teeth? Fine, I got a big game in a few weeks and rather not get expelled before then."

"Sure."

Your former watches as you're lead behind the school. They should do something, call a teacher - but they're too afraid. The weight of the situation falls on them as you disappear from sight. You're going to get hurt and it's all their fault. Your bully cooks up all the things they plan on doing to you, cracking their knuckles and damn near salivating at the thought of seeing your stone face crumple. They're too preoccupied with their threats to notice you pulling something out of your pocket. Their foot falls off the concrete path and into the grassy terrain as they ready their fists, doubling over in pain as pain splits up their side. They vomit spittle and their own words as they look up, metal bars wrapped around your hands.

"what....the fuck."

"Get up."

Gritting their teeth, the bully drags themselves to their feet - back on their knees before they can stand as your fist barrels into their stomach. You grab both sides of their head and ram your knee into the facture scar on their nose. You're unrelenting even as they fall back on their ass, removing your metal knuckles and mounting them as you ball your fists. You weren't ready for a murder charge just let. Over and over, your balled hand cracks against their face and jaw - drawing red with each wet smack. You stop only to switch you your unbruised hand - their arms shooting up in defense.

"please...."

"..."

"stop...."

"Isn't that what people ask you?"

You climb off their battered body, lifting one leg under your arm. "I've studied people for a while. Writing scenarios where I could ruin lives is much better for all of us than actually doing it. I know things about you too... Your family paid off your younger brother's teacher so he got get into that nice college - and you have a full ride... If you can still use both legs."

Tears prick their eyes. They fight to keep them in. This was their future you were playing with. "I'm sorry! I won't hurt anyone again I promise!"

Your grip tightens "I don't care about everyone."

"I won't mess with you anymore!"

They flinch as you drop their leg. "Good." Waking over to your discarded backpack, you retrieve your med kit and camera - dropping down beside them as you remove the lense.

"Smile."

Their eyes burn as the camera flash goes off. You set the camera aside as you open the kit and pull out an alcohol swab - pinning them to the ground as you apply it to their split cheek.

"Ow! The fuck are you doing now?"

"Quiet."

"Get the fuck off me!"

"You have a game in a few weeks, don't you? I don't think I broke anything, but you probably don't want the other team to see you with bruises."

-

The following Monday, your bully greets you all smiles and pleasant as if you were the best of friends. They could do the exact same thing as you and study you like an animal in a zoo to inact their revenge. Anyone who still picked on you quickly turned on their heels when they saw you with their click. They bragged while you were away about how they planned to tear your life to shreds so hard the damage would last long after school. It was going to be the peak of their year -

"Drink this."

"An energy drink? If you wanted to posion me, you could've done it with something better."

"The seal is still intact. No amount of chapstick will fix your dry lips, because you're dehydrated. An athlete should know better than that."

Their fingers instinctly fly to their lips. How did you?.... You did say you had been watching. They didn't know nor understand the full reach of your knowledge until they got a happy birthday message from an unknown number and a speaker ended up in a pool when they were urged to jump in. They had a fear of water since adolescence after nearly drowning at a lake. You never took charge for this acts and mostly blended into the crowd when they happened. You picked up your old hobby of patching their injuries and taking photos as payment. Why were you doing so much for someone who wanted to make you suffer?

"We're friends.... aren't we?"

Huh?

"Besides, if I stick with you, I don't have to look up gore sites anymore - or take pictures of dead animals."

You're such a fucking freak. A freak - that was starting to grow on them.

You became the person they'd look for first during school - when they needed a shoulder to cry on. You rarely offered comfort, but a pat on the shoulders was good enough for them. Their hand would find your shoulder or waist so frequently that rumors began spreading that you were dating - until people found out every touch was met with a light punch to their bruised ribs. They'd just laugh it off and apologize before doing it again an hour later.

Your former friend was having the time of their life - for a while. Something felt... artificial about their new friends. They had a good time at school and when they got together on weekends, but nobody was there for them at any other time. No one to vent to or wish them happy birthday exactly when it turned midnight - like you used you. They missed you. More than anything.

"Hey - give me Y/n's number."

Been a while since they've been in this scenario. Why was your shared bully asking them for your number?

"H-huh? Why?...."

"I had to get a new phone and can't remember the last digits. Stop asking questions and give it to me."

"Okay!"

The bully snatches their phone and punches the number into theirs - eyes softening as the line connects. "Y/n..... What? Of course it's me. I got a new phone. Anyway, I got tickets to that one movie that's coming out this week - the one that got pushed back because the prop knife turned out to be real? You coming or not?... Good."

Your former friend catches their phone as it's tossed back to them - watching their bully walk away with the flush of a middle schooler confessing to their crush. They hadn't been hit at all during the altercation, but their chest hurt hearing your voice after so long away from you - even faintly.

They find you the next day at the top of the roof. It was your favorite hiding place, and the only one your bully hadn't found yet. They sit quietly beside you.

"How have you been?..."

"Fine..."

They purse their lips together. "What...did you do to make them stop?"

"Put them in their place."

"What do you mean by that?"

You point your camera at the passing crowd. "At our age, people only have as much power as you give them. If you stand your ground they'll typically back down, and if they don't - you beat the to a pulp and ruin their families lives."

Your friend can't stop the tears from flowing. You had always been the strong one, that they knew - but how could you handle things so easily? How could they betray you like that? Their only companion in this world - thrown to the wolves when you should've been their for each other.

"It was you wasn't it?"

You stand up.

"Stay away from me."

They reach out to grab you - mend the tattered strings of your friendship. "Don't leave me. I did it, okay? I did it, and I'm so so sorry. Y/n, please forgive me - I couldn't take it anymore. I'd go back to the way things were if it meant you were still with me. Please, Y/n, I'm in lo-"

Their vision blanks, speckles of blood littering the ground floor from their split lip. You lower your hand back down to your camera.

"Don't lie to me. Or yourself like that."

It hurts... Everything hurts.... Still, they smile - showing you the bloodied whites of their teeth.

""ahhh.... Y/n, I'm... I'm bleeding. Don't you want to take a picture of me? Aren't I still beautiful to you? Aren't I good enough?"

You don't grace them with a reply, walking off as they curl into themself. It hurts - their mouth is numb, but it hurts all over. Please, come back. Let them their their head on your shoulder until the pain goes away. Y/n... Please.

"I'm sorry...."

"But are you really though?"

They cover their ears with their hands. Shut up. Go away. If they'd done their job probably - none of these would've happened. The student council president. The worthless coward didn't even have the courage to come themself. Just another lackey doing their bidding.

"Leave me alone."

"Ugh, you're so whiny. This is what you wanted, isn't it?"

"I just wanted I break - I didn't mean to hurt them."

"Yea, yeah that's what your like always says. Misery sure does love company, though. I genuinely don't see what the prez likes about that fucking creep. They're wasting their time and blood for them."

Shut up. "Don't talking about Y/n like that?"

"But you had no problem with it when it was for benefit. What did you call them? A psychopath?"

"I didn't have anywhere else to go....."

"Keep telling yourself that. I can't decide who'd I'd take more - the backstabber, or the maniac."

"SHUT UP!"

-

Walking down the steps to the first floor, you crash into someone skipping their way in the same direction.

"Ah - Y/n!" The student council president grins, picking up your fallen camera. "Good morning, good morning! And how are you doing ok this lovely day?"

"Fine."

"Faaaantastic." They point at their cheek sweeping blood on the shell of your camera. "As you can see here, I had a little bitty accident in my culinary class. I'm such a clutz, aren't I? If you give me one of those cute bandages, I'll take a picture of this cut and smile real pretty for ya!"

"Whatever." The president hums as you fish around in your bag, smiling big for their future spouse - deleting as many pictures as they can of others in that short time. If only they hadn't been out sick when the rumors spread. Then maybe you wouldn't be on that awful bully's arm and in theirs instead. They refused to let this little setback running your future together. After all, they were willing to bleed for you on their own Accord unlike everyone else in your album.

Unfortunately, they were upstaged once again - but their own council member too. They frown as the screams begin. They spit on the floor as blood splatters across the windows.

Couldn't go kill yourself somewhere else?

-

At the rooftop, panic takes flight. No no no... They didn't mean to do it. Their hands flew out before their brain could tell them no. The blood pools like a broken jug. A crowd surrounds the body. Nobody can see them from their place on the roof floor, but they can see everyone. A figure wearing a jacket that was once theirs, dyed with their blood and tears. The camera that hangs around that person's neck. The shutter of the lense. They laugh - finally understanding what they had to do to get you back.

You really did like taking pictures of dead animals afterall....

[cosmic-cupidsss]

💌 YOUR MAJESTY

—➤ pairing: shoto todoroki

—➤ tags: fluff, no quirks + fantasy au, arranged marriage, inspired by Queen Charlotte. reader is kinda blunt and likes to talk, little to no usage of y/n. Shoto might be ooc.

—➤ note: As King, Shoto must choose a queen to marry, one that would make his irritating excuse of a father happy, Of course you have been chosen as the bride, but meeting your betrothed was more awkward (but cute) than you’d expect.

You didn’t have much family, the only person that took care of you was your elder sister, she was your sole guardian ever since your parents had passed, and since she was the eldest all the wealth and riches had gone to her and the custody of their youngest child, which was you.

You had never really intended to leave your sister’s side, especially due to the ways of marriage, you had always thought that your sister would always be there for you, no matter what.

So imagine your fear when you were to be married off the new crowned King of the land.

You were devastated, especially since nobody had informed you on the matter, you were unknowingly thrust into this chaotic world of royalty without a thought of opinion from you.

There was nothing you could do about it.

You had arrived at the palace, no expectations in hand, and you were greeted by the King’s father, but not the king himself.

“You will meet him on your wedding day” she was told by his mother, she was brief and did not feel welcoming.

For the next weeks of your new life, you were just galavanting around the grand palace, in your luxury new gowns and expensive and sparkly crowns and diamond jewels.

It was nice and all, but you were starting to feel lonely. Very lonely. The staff that followed you around like bodyguards never seemed to talk to you unless spoken to, and they weren’t allowed to speak freely at any point, the King’s mother; who stayed in the palace as well rarely seemed to want to get to know you either, the woman always had a cold attitude towards you, and everyone around her.

No one ever seemed to talk about the King and what he was like, which was really strange to you.

But you read, you took quiet strolls along the maze like gardens of the castle, and slowly, but surely, your wedding day had arrived.

“Is he handsome? Is he kind? Is he funny?”

You had been standing at this one position for hours now, getting your wedding gown fitted on you by several maidens, it had been awkwardly quiet for a while now, and the nerves of your wedding in a matter of hours was starting to set in, you really needed a prescription on the person you are about to be married to.

“What are his hobbies? Does he like art? Reading? Writing? Poetry??” You continued on as you looked at yourself in the mirror, the fact that you looked stunning calmed your nerves down just a bit.

“Does he like fencing-“

One of the maids fitting your dress cut you off, “this is a discussion for after the dress is fitted my lady,” she said with a small smile, she really didn’t want to answer your questions, but you were too persistent.

“Is he unattractive to look at?” You suddenly asked which took the maiden aback just a little, “is that why you will not answer my questions..”

“If he is deformed in some way I’m certain that won’t be an issue…beauty is on the inside after all” you rambled on, you hummed a bit, thinking about your words carefully before contradicting them, “Well beauty is not inside..but if his personality overcomes that then I don’t see any problem!”

The maid started sweating at your release of words, she had honestly never met someone so blunt and talkative, “Your Highness, please—“

“Is he not smart? If so then that’s a rather bad thing to be when you’re a king…but I guess if he is the king he has to be intelligent. Right?” You turned to the maiden with a small smile, “Is he cruel? How does he treat servants that cater to him?”

The maiden was practically sweating, not knowing what to do, she made eye contact with several other maidens, one just uncomfortably chuckled, putting on a faux smile as she spoke “I’m sure you two will have beautiful children together..”

The small smile you had on earlier faded away as she said those words, irking you just a bit, it was already bad enough that you were getting married to someone you hardly knew, but children? Oh heavens no!

You decided not to speak anymore and stare at yourself in the mirror, at least with all the talking you did time was able to pass just a little bit faster, you were almost finished with your fitting.

A sense of uncomfort grew within you the more you stared at yourself in this mirror. Is this who you were to be for the rest of your days? A woman in a loveless marriage with an unknown man?

You weren’t going to do this.

“All done!” The maiden cheered, “and three hours before the ceremony too, we have outdone ourselves ladies!” She said to the other maidens.

They all soon left, and you were left alone in the fitting room. They mentioned the wedding was in three hours? That was more than enough time for you to make your grand escape.

You had walked out out that changing room, clumps of your long wedding gown in your fists as you ran for outside, luckily and surprisingly you weren’t spotted, and it was a very, very, very long walk to the palace gardens.

On your previous walks here, you had always spotted a wall in the garden that led to outside the palace. And it was the perfect escape root, and all you needed to do was climb it.

You knew your wedding gown was going to be a problem, since it was rather long, but you didn’t want to miss your chance. It was now or never!

Picking up the hems of your dress, you run towards the wall and jumped, but gravity was against you, and you fell hard of your bum, groaning in pain at the inconvenience.

"I should've known this wasn't going to be easy..." you muttered to yourself, getting up from the ground, you glared at the wall, eyeing it up and down, how dare this measly wall deny you your opportunity at escaping??

You decided to try again.

You jumped on the walls again, this time latching onto the vines and pulling yourself up, it was a struggle but soon you were able to almost get halfway up.

"Excuse me."

The sudden voice startled you, with a loud shriek you felt yourself fall down the wall again, the fall was much harder this time and you let out a small groan from the pain.

When you got up, you turned to see who called you, annoyed and ready to give him a good earful, but you were surprised when you laid your eyes onto a man, a devilishly handsome young man.

"Are you in need of assistance of any kind?" He spoke

He had pale skin, and red and white half split hair, as well as heterochromic eyes, blue and gray, on there was a large scar on the left side of his face that added an extra touch of uniqueness to his features.

His facial gaze looked rather stern, but softened once he got a good look at your face, but you didn’t seem to notice, you had turned your back to him to face the wall you had fallen from.

"I'm quite fine, thank you." You said, "you can go back inside and wait with all the other servants and guests."

The man gave a small hum, "I was just about to, but I was curious to see what exactly was going on here-"

"Nothing" you cut him off, turning to him, trying to act as normal as possible “nothing is going on.”

The man sighed, “there clearly is something going on here ma’am.”

There was an irritated look on her face, “Ma’am? I am twenty years of age thank you very much!” You exclaimed, “but if you must know I’m trying to climb over this wretched wall” you pointed.

He raised his brow "What for?"

She looked at him weirdly, “that is none of your business.” You stated, earning another eye brow raise from him, you didn’t like that look, and for some reason you felt a need to tell him.

You sighed, "I'm afraid of the predicament that I have been forced into, so I’m climbing this wall to escape my problems..” you felt a little bit better after saying that, “not that you'd care, I believe you are a servant right? No that can’t be it I haven’t seen you before.." you muttered, putting a finger to your chin in question. “Are you a guest of some sort? I don’t know you, so you are not part of my court..”

You chose not to dwell on it, even though you were finding it suspicious how he was able to find his way into the royal gardens, but that wasn’t your business. You checked him out, noticing he was very tall and had a muscular build. He seemed to follow your eyes, a little flustered by how shameless you were being.

“What are you—“

"You look strong.” You cut him off, “Help me climb over."

"You're asking me to help you ease your escape?"

You chuckled, "it was more of a statement than a question.." you murmured before clearing her throat, "Yes that's what I implied."

“People inside will notice you are missing” he commented.

“I have no worries about that, once I am missing they will find another poor unfortunate lady to marry off to a king that no one clearly wants to speak of..” you say to him, “so will you help me or not?”

"I have no intentions of helping you"

You looked at him, tilting your head, "I am a lady in distress. You will not help a lady in distress? That is very rude."

You tried to walk back to the wall, but he stopped you by grabbing your wrist, you were surprised by the contact, looking at the man cautiously.

"I refuse to help a lady in distress so that she doesn't have to marry me."

Your eyes widen, and when he let go off you, you stepped back, gasping softly, he caught sight of all three emotions that were evident on your face. You were confused, in shock, dumbfounded. He was impressed at how expressive you were.

"I'm sorry we had to meet this way my lady…" he spoke to you, an amusing smile on his face as he stepped closer to you. “I am to be your husband, call me Shoto”

“[name] call me [name]…” you trailed off, your ideas of running away had faded away, now staring at this man— who claims to be your future husband— at a loss for words.

“I…” you croaked, “I am deeply s..” truly you couldn’t speak at all.

“Your majesty…” you went to a bow, but he took your hand, signalling you to stand up straight.

“As I said before to you, you can call me Shoto..” he smiled again, “no need for formalities..”

You breathed in a laugh, “honestly…” you begun, “If I had known…I wouldn’t have…I..”

“You wouldn’t have tried to go over the castle walls?” He mused, earning a chuckle from you.

“Well yes…and..I wouldn’t have been so anxious to marry you…” you smiled, “If I had known..”

Shoto dear smile grew bigger at the sight of yours, he was already enamoured by you.

“I am so rude..if you wouldn’t want to marry me now, I’d completely understand” you shook your head.

“Who said I didn’t want to?” He remarked, “and if I recall, the ceremony is in an hour, so we must hurry” he took your hand, “don’t want to keep anyone waiting.

You followed him out the garden and into the palace, where the ceremony was to be taken place, and even though you were anxious before, now you were relieved and a bit happy, and so glad that you didn’t succeed in climbing that palace wall.

[bangfantanfic]

Our Own World: Chapter 12.

Warnings: Possible mentions of stalkingand yandere behaviour.

tags; @miss-jupiter @imagine-forlife @blaaiissee @millenniumspec @toughbook @darkuni63 @badbyeyoongi @iloverubberduckiez-blog @missseoulite @singukieee @potterbrooke @suhappysuho @doublebunv @sevenpersona @blancflms @childfmoonn @caffeineandreveries @cryingpages @gato-dumbo @xicanacorpse @devilzliaison

A/N; I am alive! Thank you all for being so patient, life has been life-ing and I cannot say it's been enjoyable lmao. I hope this update is okay, please let know! I am also currently going through Our Own World and my other works editing everything! So there may be some changes, so please bare with me while everything is a bit messy. If you would like to be removed or added to my taglists please let me know <3

Being holed up in Jimin’s room had surprisingly been a nice refresher. The only person coming and going from the room had been Jimin, taking clothes to his roommates, bringing fresh clothing to you, and meals whenever they were ready. He spent nearly every second glued by your side, chatting away like he had known you his entire life. He had millions of questions, wanting to know every intimate detail about the life you lived before finding yourself stuck here, although he worded it much nicer. 

In turn, you asked Jimin a million and one questions. You asked about his life, what it was like living with your brother, did he have hobbies, and of course, questions regarding life as a hybrid. You hadn’t ever spent much time around normal animals despite the never-ending line of pets your parents bought home, and so obviously hybrids were a whole new ballgame. Jimin had been thrilled by your interest, answering every question in length and always making sure you understood everything. The hybrid had shown you so much patience and care, more than you had expected or ever even experienced before. It had been a shock and left you feeling embarrassed and ashamed of the way you had behaved around them all. 

Growing up, despite your parents' interest in hybrids, they never got any. Nobody you knew had hybrids— well obviously other than your brother but his ownership over them had been a surprise! You had very little knowledge of them, only what you had learned through the media, which even you should have known wasn’t the most reliable source at times. All your information, the knowledge you thought you had? Useless. You may as well have watched Fox News all your life. Thankfully, Jimin didn’t seem to mind your lack of knowledge, in fact, he seemed thrilled to share everything he could with you. The two of you had started to form a surprising bond. 

For the first time in almost a week, you woke up alone. It had left you feeling strangely disappointed. The first night you had spent in Jimin’s shared bedroom, he had insisted you sleep in his bed, and you both had bickered for a ridiculous amount of time until you caved in. By the second day, he had rejoined you in his bed, being careful to keep his distance. It was sweet. By day four you were waking up to Jimin curled up around your body, his nose buried into your neck, his hot breath tickling your skin. Strangely enough, you weren’t bothered by the skinship. Your skin didn’t crawl at his touch, even the gentle brushes of his tail on your calf. It was almost comforting. Jimin had picked up on the change in attitude toward touch, slowly amping up his skinship. 

But it was strange to wake up to the disturbed routine you had so briefly experienced. Usually, you woke up before Jimin, the fox hybrid stayed up later than you and slept in longer. Today was different. Deciding to shrug it off, you rolled across the bed blindly reaching for your phone on the bedside table. The blinding white light from your screen caused the device to slip from your hands for a moment before you recovered from temporary blindness. Speedily scrolling through the notifications on your lock screen, your thumb froze upon noticing a familiar name. 

HY- U free today? Was thinking about going on a walk… u interested? 

Staring at the words, rereading, and then reading one more time, you threw the blanket off your body, throwing yourself upward. You still texted the man from the grocery store, Hanyoon, nearly every day, unfortunately, you hadn't run into him again since your first meeting. Covid’s lockdown rules had thankfully finally started to ease up. Whilst masks and international travel still hadn’t gone back to normal, you were allowed to roam the streets again... Exercising for a few hours outside of the house in the neighborhood you lived in was encouraged. Getting out of the house was just what you needed, even if it was with a man you had only met once. Keeping yourself cooped up like this was crazy, of course, it was. Jay wasn’t able to return anytime soon, and just because Hoseok and Jeongguk had scared the shit out of you, it didn’t mean you should close yourself off to the others who hadn’t done anything wrong. A day out was exactly what you needed to clear your head. 

Y/N- sounds great! Whenever you're ready :)) 

Dropping your phone back onto the mattress, you stumbled out of the bed, ankle snagged in one of many blankets that Jimin kept all over the bed. You made a quick mental note to fix his bedding when you got back. Digging through the pile of your dirty clothes that had been shoved behind the door, you found a decent enough outfit. Sure, you could go to your bedroom but the fewer stops the better. If you could avoid alerting the whole house of your departure that would be ideal. 

You were thankful for the one sink in the ensuite that still worked, getting to quick work brushing your teeth. Unfortunately, your hair was disgustingly greasy, but with no time to shower you would just have to steal some of Jimin’s dry shampoo and pray it could fix the cesspool on top of your head. Not bothering with makeup, knowing your unfit ass would sweat it all off, you were quick to ditch your glasses in favor of contacts. Deeming yourself presentable for the public, you quickly grabbed your phone from Jimin’s mattress. Hayoon’s contact alerted you to his arrival at the park nearby. 

To your complete surprise, you managed to make it out of the house without a single soul making an appearance. If you didn’t know any better, you would have assumed the house was empty. Knowing better than to test your luck, you had been quick to slip into your sneakers by the door, taking off down the driveway. Despite enjoying Jimin’s companionship the past week, you craved normal human interaction. Jimin was a sweetheart, but there was something that lingered under that sweetness that often left you feeling uneasy. It could just be you overthinking, subconsciously comparing him to his two packmates that had spooked you, but you weren’t going to completely ignore your gut. You had learned to be better than that. 

“Y/n!” 

A grin pulled at your lips as you locked eyes with Hayoon, your legs picking up pace to meet him faster. Hayoon looked good, dressed in loose black shorts and a baggy white tee. His hair which had been completely buzzed off the first, and last, time you saw him had started to regrow. Thick dark hair had started to flower across his head, making you wonder what kind of style his hair had been before it had been shaved off. 

“Hayoon, I hope I didn’t keep you waiting?” You asked sheepishly, keeping a little space between your bodies. 

He waved you off, smiling down at you. You forgot how tall he was, definitely an inch or so taller than Namjoon. You weren’t short, in fact, you were considered tall for a woman in your country, but Hajoon made you feel tiny, something you couldn't say happens often. 

“Nah, I haven’t been here long.” He assured you, gently bumping into your shoulder as he started to walk along the dusty path. The crunch under his shoes finally jolted your legs into gear after what seemed to be a moment of short-circuiting when the skin of his arm brushed against yours. 

The sun felt amazing on your skin, something you never thought you could say. Even the gentle breeze didn’t bother you. It was still early, the only other people in the park being an elderly couple walking with their arms linked up ahead. Despite how warm it already was, the couple were dressed in thick coats as if braving the city's harsh winter. Watching the way they interacted so freely with one another warmed your heart, they seemed so in love. Growing old didn’t seem as scary if you did it with someone you loved. 

Hayoon must’ve been watching the same scene as you, a soft smile on his lips as he admired the affectionate couple ahead. A comfortable silence had settled over the two of you rather quickly, and you were grateful. Something you liked about Hayoon was how easy it was with him. There were no forced conversations, no bitterness over slow responses. There were many similarities between the two of you, making it almost effortless to keep any conversation going. Any differences were discussed, debated, and settled. Those differences weren’t drastic, nothing that could end the bond that slowly was forming. 

A sound of disgust broke your thoughts, Hayoon’s eyes were still looking toward the elderly couple, only now a third person had appeared. A short woman who looked to be in her mid-thirties had been walking in front of them and now separated off to the left with her arm linked with the elderly woman, the two admiring a shrub of flowers. The short woman had pretty honey-colored hair with ears of the same color poking out– a hybrid. 

Hayoon looked down at you, an apologetic look on his face. His tanned cheeks had a cute pink flush to them. “Sorry– I didn’t mean to.” He stumbled over his words, his cheeks going brighter in embarrassment. 

“Not a fan?” You laughed, glancing back toward the elderly woman and her hybrid. 

Hajoon snorted, shaking his head. He kept quiet as you approached the trio, waiting until a good distance had been made before he answered your question. 

“It’s just.. Weird?” He sighed, his thick brows pulling together. “It’s not natural.” 

Humming, you found yourself agreeing. Hybrids were a strange concept, you found it incredibly difficult to understand why anyone would go out of their way to warp genetics in such a way. What was the real reason for creating such a mess of DNA? Only to ban them twenty years later? What was the reason for banning them? They were a hot commodity, every facility selling out within weeks, the waitlists being years long. The money the government had made from their creation had been staggering, and yet twenty years later facilities were shut down and forced to stop producing. The last few generations were sterilized, and the older generations were also encouraged to be as well. The government was trying to completely erase their creations without an explanation. As anyone could imagine, it didn’t go down well with the public. Hybrid trading has become a huge issue over the last few years, with huge rings being found and shut down every few days. 

What about Jay’s hybrids? When exactly did he get them, and where from? They were all born before the ban, that much you knew. So maybe he got them legally? Did he follow the government's advice, suggesting (demanding) to have all hybrids sterilized? Jay seemed to want to hide the fact that he owned hybrids, was it because of how many he had? Maybe there was a limit on how many hybrids a person could own that you weren't aware of. Seeing the elderly couple out with their cat hybrid, not a concern in the air, had you confused as to why the seven back home were kept under lock and key. Was it because of their breeds? They were all exotic animals, the laws might apply differently to different breeds. After the ban on hybrids, many laws shifted, and still to this day they are constantly changing, it is difficult to keep up to date. 

The topic of hybrids and Hayoon’s opinions on them piqued your interest. You were still clueless on the topic, no matter how much research you did into it you still felt uneducated on it all. Hayoon had been an excellent source of information, leaving you almost speechless on how much he seemed to know about them. If there was one thing you admired about the man, it was how educated he was on all topics. He always made sure to have himself as well informed as possible before making an opinion, he was a pool of knowledge. He never looked down on you for things you didn't know or understand and explained things as many times as you needed. It reminded you of Namjoon. 

A knot of anxiety pulled at your stomach. Had they noticed you were gone? Were they upset... Maybe you should have told someone, or at least left a note. You know Namjoon has a shitty old phone that's shared amongst the group, but you never bothered to get the number for it. You hadn’t seen a need for it, the only time you had spent away from any of them was to go get groceries. A part of you also just didn’t want them to have your number, the thought of them being able to contact you in the only time you had alone was distressing. Quickly shrugging off your concerns, you turn your attention back to Hayoon who had thankfully not noticed you spacing out. 

They’re fine, they’re grown men, and they can live without you for a few hours. 

“She’s gone!” 

Namjoon slammed his laptop shut, glaring up at Jimin for bursting into the bedroom he was temporarily residing in until Y/N was ready to go back to her own. 

“Have you forgotten how to knock?” He snapped, earning a frustrated hiss from the young fox. 

“Are you deaf!” He shot back, tugging at his hair. “Y/N is gone, I can’t find her anywhere!” 

Jimin’s panic was already distressing enough, the emotion suffocating the room the longer he stood in the doorway, but the anxiety that flooded his nerves was enough for him to feel bile rising in his throat. Namjoon had heard one less heartbeat when he woke up late this morning, but he had pinned it down to either one of the boys had gone walking at the back of the property, somewhere too far for his hearing to pick up, or Jeongguk was sleeping so deeply that his heart had slowed to almost nothing again– a common occurrence when the snake hybrid had a late night. The possibility of it being your heartbeat missing hadn’t even crossed Namjoon’s mind. You had been locked away in his bedroom for some time now, nobody but Jimin had seen you, and nobody would have suspected you leaving. The smell of your fear still lingered upstairs, Jimin would herd everyone downstairs before you would agree to go use the upstairs bathroom to shower. Going as far as making Jimin stand guard on the door until you were done. When did you lose that anxiety? 

Ripping the blanket, Namjoon’s laptop hit the floor as he jumped off the mattress. “Where have you looked?” 

“I’ve been through the yard, the kitchen, our bedroom, and all of downstairs. I haven’t checked Jeongguks room, I was on my way–” 

Namjoon was speeding down the hallway before the fox could finish his sentence. This was a new kind of fear he had never experienced before, his throat closing up and his eyes burning. His lungs were on fire, struggling to keep up with how quickly he was breathing. At the end of the hall was Taehyung and Jeongguk’s room, the door shut and only the sound of one heartbeat fluttering peacefully. Had you found your way into their room? Maybe you had gotten lost and ended up in the wrong bedroom? These things happen all the time! He’ll open the door and you’ll be curled up in someone's bed, and the crisis will be averted. 

With the force that Namjoon pushed open the door, he almost fell flat on his face. Stumbling into the room, his eyes quickly adjusted to the darkness, squinting as he took in two groggy men peeking out from their blankets. 

“Hyung, what the fuck?” Jeongguk groaned, his heart going from nearly stopped to racing. 

“Well, is she there?” Jimin huffed, shoving past his leader to look for himself. To his great disappointment, the room held no signs of you ever being there. Cursing, Jimin shoved past Namjoon, his usual gratefulness replaced with clumsy heaviness. 

“What’s his problem?” Taehyung whined, pulling his blanket over his head to shield himself from the brightness of the hall. 

Namjoon, for the first time in his life, couldn’t find words. You’re not here. There are seven heartbeats, not eight. The knot in his stomach tightened, the bile in his stomach rising higher and higher. When did you leave, how long has it been? Your car is still here, you couldn’t have gotten far. How didn’t anyone hear you leave? A house full of hybrids and not a single one heard you get up and out the front door? 

Impossible. 

“Did you hear anyone leave the house this morning?” He asked as calmly as possible, the shake in his voice far more noticeable than he would have liked. Both grunted out no’s, begging the elder male to close the door. 

It was Jeongguk, finally ripping the blanket off his head ready to start a war over the damned door still being open, that noticed Namjoon’s pale sweaty skin. He looked like he was about to projectile vomit. Frowning, the snake hybrid slinked out of bed and heaved his tired body toward his sickly leader. Pressing the back of his cold hand against Namjoon’s forehead, he sighed in relief. He wasn’t running abnormally hot, so it wasn’t a fever or some kind of sickness. Even with his less advanced hearing, he could still hear the erratic beating of his hyung’s heart. 

“Joonie, you okay?” He murmured, his hand cupping the back of the man's neck as he tried to get closer to assess him better. “You don’t look so good…” 

The concern in Jeongguk’s usually smug tone had Taehyung flying into a sitting position, his hair standing in every possible direction. His puffy eyes zeroed in on his pack leader, his brows pulling together in concern. 

“Is he sick?” 

Jeongguk shook his head, keeping his eyes on the wolf hybrid. Gently squeezing at the muscle in his neck, the snake hybrid was starting to get antsy. “Hey, come on. Talk to us, we can’t help if you don’t tell us what's wrong.” He cooed, the money hybrid making a sound of agreement from behind. 

Namjoon’s tongue pressed against his cheek, his eyes going glassy. He couldn’t get his tongue to work, he couldn’t get himself to say the words his packmates needed to hear. How could he admit to everyone that he had lost you? He could hear Jimin tearing through Jay’s room downstairs, Hoseok and Seokjin hot on his heels trying to calm the younger man down. They didn’t know what was happening either, nobody else had figured it out. 

“We can’t find Y/n.” 

[stariikis]

𝐫𝐨𝐲𝐚𝐥 𝐟𝐥𝐮𝐬𝐡 | 𝐧.𝐫𝐤

royal flush ; (noun) a straight flush including ace, king, queen, jack, and ten all in the same suit, which is the hand of the highest possible value when wild cards are not in use. synopsis ; on your anniversary date with riki, he gets you thinking about how a deck of cards and a red string of fate bonded you forever.

pairing ; nishimura riki x reader genre ; fluff, romance, established r/s warnings ; mild cursing wc ; 1543

“You think we were fated to be together?” 

As you let the words settle into the darkness, the weight of them simmer around you. It’s almost as if you’re speaking to, perhaps, a figment of your imagination, a ghost of a body you want to be present, but isn’t. But Riki’s fingers, slender and rough with calluses, (he’s recently picked up the peculiar hobby of monkey barring) slide through yours. Like a confirmation that he’s here. 

Like a promise. 

He likes to associate you both with the tied knot of the red strings of fate. Every gift you receive is tied to perfection with a red ribbon. He likes to decorate printed pictures of you and him with scarlet-licked ribbons, a string of yarn weaved through punched-out holes. You’ve never been much of an artistic person yourself, but Riki gladly takes care of the aesthetics himself. 

“You’re my royal flush. Of course we were fated to be together.” 

What on earth does he mean? 

The night sky envelopes you in a cool breeze. Riki’s canvas, like a mirror, reflects the stars dotting it on the black background. A female figure, meant to be you, is sketched neatly in the middle of the portrait. However, your boyfriend has seemed to temporarily forget about the painting he’s working on. 

He leans in closer, one hand supporting himself on the grassy field. The other squeezes yours in a tight reassurance. The grin he’s flaunting is one that makes you want to smile with him. But it’s hard to focus on him when your mind is running through everything it took for you to get here. 

“Hey, yn, come here!” 

Minji’s voice rings out loud and clear across the room the moment you walk in. In a circle with a few boys, along with Haerin, there’s a deck of cards laid out on the marble floor. 

You walk over hesitantly, blinking at the unshuffled pile. ‘I’m not very good at playing cards.” 

Your friend and roommate huffs in exasperation, grabbing your wrist and sitting you down in the empty spot beside her. Your new roommates stare at you expectantly, and it’s only then when you realise they’re waiting for an introduction. Hastily and half embarrassed, you nod your head and introduce yourself. 

The boy beside you, his hair bleached and long enough to be considered a mullet, smiles amiably and greets you. “Hi, I’m Riki.” 

The boy opposite flashes a smile somehow even brighter than Riki’s. “I’m Sunoo! Welcome to the dorm.” 

Shyly, you wave and proceed to receive your share of the cards Haerin has silently been dealing amidst the introductions. 

“I don’t know, guys…” you murmur lightly, trying to start conversation. “I don’t really play big 2 that often.” 

“But do you know how?” Minji tilts her head. Her playful expression is difficult to read. You look through your cards and nod in response. “Who knows, you might be the next prodigy, like Riki beside you. He wins every time! Why do we even play with him anymore?” 

Riki laughs boyishly, winking at you charmingly. “Nobody comes even close to beating me!” 

… It’s only your first day at university. You should not be finding boys cute yet. 

“Sure, sure. Maybe I’ll be the one to change that.” 

The game begins, and true to his word, Riki starts off strong. He’s either the luckiest man on earth or has the skills of a professional gambler, because everytime he places down a set, everybody lets out a gasp. As expected, nobody in the circle is able to beat his high value cards, and they skip their turns. 

You’re doing better than you expected though. Head to head with Riki, you both have six cards in your hands. Minji sends you a teasing glance, as if signaling for you to destroy him. The chances are pretty low. When Riki places down a full house, you have a feeling you’re pretty screwed. And since you’re his main competition, Riki quirks an eyebrow challengingly at you when he places down three 6s and two 8s. 

One card remaining in his hand, he looks your way and giggles. Giggles. It, like, kind of alters your brain chemistry a little. 

However, you’re lucky (and smart) enough to have saved your flush, and so you place down your ten, jack, queen, king and ace. As you do so, the whole room goes silent. Haerin is the first to break it, with the first sentence you’ve heard her say that day. 

“You had a royal flush?! Now Riki’s definitely going to lose.” 

“A royal flush?” You echo, unfamiliar to this term in the world of gambling. Riki’s smug expression has turned into an awe-struck one, and he’s ogling at the five cards you have just placed down. 

“Look,” Minji spreads your cards and points at the suit. “They’re all hearts, right? A flush, with all the same suit, is called a royal flush. It’s the best set of five you can place down in this game.” 

Sunoo gasps, all nine of his cards spread like a peacock’s tail in his two hands. He uses it to fan himself, shaking his head all the while. “Damn, I never expected anyone to beat Riki.” 

Of course, everyone passes, even a begrudging Riki. He hangs his head low, and you don’t know whether to rub salt in the wound or comfort him with a bullshitted, “oh, don’t worry! Haha! Beginner’s luck!” 

You toss your last card, a 7, onto the pile before excusing yourself. You don’t want to stay and risk being assaulted by a potentially extremely competitive 18-year-old. 

However, that isn’t the case. After a while, you meet him in the dorm’s shared kitchen, stumbling upon him making himself a cup of coffee. At first, you’re nervous and avoid his gaze, because who knows what he could do to your social status if he’s truly upset. You’re slightly traumatised from high school’s notorious group of popular girls. 

But instead of giving you a shit-eating glare like you thought he would, he taps your shoulder. It sends tingles through your body, and you almost physically reach up and smack yourself. 

“I challenge you to another game,” he beams at you almost innocently. “Tonight, my room.” 

As the days go by, these demanding three words leave Riki’s lips more and more often. Soon it is a tradition for you to knock on his door and be greeted with a deck of cards shoved in your face. You truly do somehow have a talent for playing cards, reigning above Riki – and you win him every single time. 

It’s his life goal to beat you someday. 

To this day, he still hasn’t been able to beat you. But when he confessed to you, his eyes glazed over with a nervousness you’ve never seen before, even during your heated matches. He shyly gifted you with a fresh new deck of cards, tied up with the red string of fate. 

He claims to love the colour red because it reminds him of you. 

“Look,” he whispered, in the middle of the dark and empty room. Minji, Haerin and Sunoo were all out late in class, and Riki had pulled you in with such a look of desperation and eagerness that you didn’t know how to respond. “It’s red, like the hearts on the royal flush you put down the first day we met. It’s red like the colour of your favourite flowers.” 

“Roses,” he turns around and retrieves a bouquet of the prick-studded flowers from next to his nightstand. He sounds a little breathless when he returns to you, and the adoration in his eyes makes you want to break down into tears. “You love roses.” 

The boy that you’ve liked since the moment you met him. Why would you not accept such a thoughtful, clumsy confession that is his? 

“I like you so, so much!” 

A royal flush. So that’s what he means. 

“Happy anniversary,” Riki sighs, a little too dizzyingly happy when he leans in to kiss your cheek. “I got you yet another deck of cards because I didn’t know what you would want.” 

He whips out a box with intricate lines and swirls, and the design is a little too familiar for your liking. 

“Is this…” you reach out to touch it, your fingers connecting once more in the process. Riki nods enthusiastically, lips pursed proudly. “The deck of cards we played with at the very beginning.” 

Something’s special, though, when you turn the box around and look at the bottom, you see that he’s engraved both your names there, in his very own handwriting. Your heart swells with pure love for the boy sitting before you. He may be clueless on what to get you, but at the same time he’s the best ever at giving gifts.

“Let me finish up this painting,” he sighs, and scoots back to scan you. His hands imitate a picture frame and he winks to get a clearer picture of you in his mind. “Pretty.”

He turns back to the painting, skilled hands picking up his paintbrush again. “After this, we can go home. I challenge you to another game of cards. Tonight, my room. And this time, I’ll win.”

thank you for reading !

more of my works >

[frenziedfireworks]

Dating!

Dating the HL Boys!

(Sebastian, Ominis, Garreth)

masterlist

Sebastian :

I feel like he definitely has insomnia. He is not able to go to sleep easily and hates it. Help the poor guy to calm down & give him cuddles. If you pamper him he will go to sleep easier. 

He’s very thoughtful and remembers important dates and anything you look at. You kept staring at that book in the window? It’s on your desk. Your coat ripped? You suddenly have a new one. He doesn’t care how hard he has to work to spoil you - he will do it.

He’s very protective of you towards anyone - even Ominis. He knows you can handle yourself but he just wants to make sure you feel safe and nobody is pushing your buttons. That’s his job after all <3

You had turned in bed adjusting your position when a light woke you up. You begrudgingly opened your eyes, adjusting to the shine that was right next to you. Unsurprisingly it was your dearest boyfriend using lumos in an attempt to read instead of sleeping.

“Seb?” Your voice croaked and the freckled man looked down.

“Hey baby. Did I wake you? I’m sorry.” His hand danced over your cheek and a soft kiss was placed upon your forehead. 

“You should be asleep.” 

“I tried. Thought I’d read until I got tired..” You only sighed and pushed yourself up. 

“What time is it?” You looked for the clock and noticed how late, or more so early it was.

“Sebastian, it's 4 am. Merlin’s beard.. I’ll be back.”

“Darling it’s okay-“

“Be quiet and sit.” You grunted and made your way to the kitchen. You were quick to make him a warm cup of tea and flutter back to the safety of your bed. Sebastian’s face was red and he gave you a thankful smile as he took a sip.

“Thank you my love. I don’t know what I did to deserve you.” He leaned in to give you a quick smooch as you laid back down.

“You’re lucky you’re cute. Finish that and cuddle with me, you oaf.”

Ominis :

Once you truly get to know Ominis he is CHATTY. He doesn’t stop talking and asks you the most random questions. He would be the type of boyfriend to ask you if you would love him as a worm.

He makes very cute dates to take you on. Picnics and sitting outdoors kind of stuff! If you don’t like that then he will of course take that into consideration.. He wouldn’t mind sitting in a secluded spot just enjoying time together.

Ominis doesn’t show it as much but I feel like he gets jealous. He will admit it to you if you question him. He gets in fits of not feeling adequate for you. Just tell him you love him and it’s all fine!!

“Y/N?” Ominis’ voice pierced through the silence of your bedroom. You turned in the sheets to face him, hand coming to rest on his chest. 

“Yes?” You questioned. He had a small grin on his face that you could make out from the dim moonlight. You knew it would be another one of your silly nights.

“Would you still love me if I was a worm?” You automatically cackled at the question, expecting anything other than that.

“You’re just a worm?”

“Yes. Just a worm.” 

Ominis snorted again at the ridiculous question and you rolled your eyes. You pressed a kiss against his shoulder and hummed.

“I suppose. I think I’d take you everywhere in a nice cage. We would eat breakfast together while you squirmed in your dirt and you would enjoy your life. Then one day I would take us on vacation to the beach. Maybe even do some fishing..” You held back a giant laugh as he gasped.

“And I am not the bait surely?!” The boy's arm smacked against you and you couldn’t hold your breath. 

“I am not the bait, right?!” He repeated the question and you felt lightheaded. 

“Uhuh sure my love..” You mustered up a sarcastic response and watched as he bobbed his head in annoyance.

“You’re ridiculous.” 

“You’re the one who asked!”

Garreth :

He ALWAYS brings you homemade stuff. Some of it is mildly concerning but he just shrugs it off. After all it is “made with love” as he puts it.

Garreth always brings you on little adventures to collect supplies or sits with you on your hobbies. He thinks it’s the best to just be in your presence. 

He’s very attentive and handsy. Physical touch is definitely a high contender for his love language. I feel like it makes him more calm to always have a hand on you. You’re like a little safety blanket <3

I feel like Garreth has ADHD.. If he gets busy with potions he won’t notice ten hours have passed until you forcibly pull him away. You constantly have to remind him to eat or take a break.

“Garreth?” Your voice filtered into the empty potions room where your boyfriend stood hard at work. You had not seen him all day and was starting to worry that one of his potions had finally taken him out. Walking up behind the boy you let out a cough and rubbed your hand up his back.

“Oh!” 

Garreth jumped and turned to face you. His eyes were bloodshot and his grin was wavering on a questionable line of sanity.

“Have you slept? How long have you been down here?” You brought your hand to his forcing him to drop the feathers onto the counter. His forehead came to rest on your shoulder and he let out a deep sigh.

“It hasn’t been that long has it?”

“Baby it’s Saturday morning.” You whispered as your fingers skimmed through his ginger locks. He only grunted in response and dug deeper into your shoulder.

“Well I need to finish-“ The boy started but you cut him off quickly.

“You can finish this another day. Your brewing pot is not going anywhere. We are going to put you to bed. Understand?” Garreth only snorted and moved so you could lead the way.

“You’re cute when you’re bossy.”

“Don’t even start Weasley.”

[yandere-kokeshi]

— Yandere Simon "Ghost" Riley Headcanons

Warnings: Yandere behavior, talks about his past; dedicated to the comics, death/abuse, alcohol, and brief talk about drugs. 

A/N: hope you enjoy :]! Other COD headcanons should be out soon.

This gif belongs to daniel-bruehl. The other icons belong to yumethefrostypanda. They are not mine! Please support them :).

Ghost, or rather known as Simon Riley, is an extremely complicated person. He doesn’t trust, nor fall in love like snapping a few fingers.

Yet, you did it, didn’t you?

He’s extremely protective, very observant, and a traumized man who begs for you to love him, even if it’s negative. In all aspects, Simon is the person you wouldn’t expect to fall for you due to his stoic and hard nature.

In a rare stance, you get his attention by being in the team. A new recruit at best, a medic or another soldier that comes with its good perks.

Or, a fairy tale of him falling for you as a civilian. A person in his apartment complex. A batista that always smiles at him, accidentally touching fingers when passing coffees. Or, just a regular person, he fell for.

Either way — Simon craves for you. Feeling a type of way for you that he wanted to reject. To throw away and pass down. But, every time he tried to sleep, relax, or take a break, you crept up at his mind like any other drug available. It was hard to ignore that it forced him to continue conversations even though he felt awkward. Yet, you had every interesting life style that he learned to love, asking questions after question to get to know you better.

His obsession– his brutal way of love, really starts to show the second you’re injured.

A gunshot wound, broken bone, or an assault that happened in the street has him reeling in rage. Ghost, now being known of his presence, is following right behind you, ensuring you stay beside him and has you locked in every position where he can visibly see you.

He has a habit, and possible hobby, of stalking and following you; acting like a guard dog in his head. Simon is ensuring your safety is cleared, no? Nobody will hurt you when he’s with you.

Simon is always near you– behind you, more preferably. His large form is staring down at anyone who dares to try to speak to you. And which, in many aspects, makes it hard to keep or make friends. Which is how Ghost likes it.

Ghost wants you, in every aspect possible. Platonically, physically, sexually or romantically, he doesn’t care; as long as he has you, by himself, he’s gotten the bread-winner. You make him nervous, make him feel bad for what he’s doing. But, he needs you. Craves you like candy. And nothing will stop him until he gets you.

He kidnaps you– as much as he dislikes it. He suffers from severe nightmares, traumatic events that have happened in the past, and now with you? He’s constantly worried about you, a great 10/10 paranoid freak. He has to have you near him, and again, he wants you. Doesn’t matter what kind. He just needs you around him.

Of course, getting to the kidnapping is easy. Drugging, giving you a permanent tracker, and keeping you sane is the medium. But ensuring you aren’t scared of him is his current goal.

When you wake up, arms and legs bound to the creaky chair in an empty room, Ghost is sitting in the corner, watching you like a wolf ready to pounce on a scared rabbit; though, he’d never bite. He watches you glance at your bags against the wall, then back to him; generally watching you to react in any way.

The room isn’t decorated, not at first. React however you like, Simon will say the same thing whilst giving the 3 tray of foods each day: "Jus' know this is for your protection, lovie."

Until you can prove yourself, not a threat ‐ to yourself or to him - he will unchain you and move you to a more proper, decorated, and healthy room that you can call yours. He smiles when you look in awe and wants to please you more in ways that you wouldn’t even know exist.

While Ghost knows that you’re gonna have a hard time adjusting, he does trust you to a certain point.

He allows you to freely roam in the cabin out in the far mountains, wanting you to admire the place with its natural beauty; smiling with the thought of you feeding the soon farm animals. However, the entire house is riddled with traps, either to catch you from running or kill any enemies that are on sight.

Simon is severely protective. Due to his abused and trained past, he’s paranoid all the time; always carrying a handgun near him and a combat knife in his back pocket while waiting to hear glass shatter from the enemies. He fears you’ll get hurt all the time, which means that you’re pretty much watched… 24/7.

This means that he’s also implanted camera’s all along the house, including the bathroom and a tracker implanted into you whilst you were sleeping.

On the topic of sleep– Ghost doesn’t get much of it. He stays up, roaming the house for the first few days after coming back from missions to ensure everything is okay, before he goes back to his "normal" self.

It’s no surprise you have two guard dogs, one of Ghost and another of Riley, the dog. He trains Riley to follow you, and always ensure you do things you’re supposed to.

Affection with Simon is awkward and weird at first. He craves it like any other, touch-starved to the max, but he has a hard time accepting it; all his life has been plagued with violence and abuse. At this point, Simon has convinced himself he doesn’t deserve it. Yet, when your hands touch his back, rubbing it after another nightmare, he melts into your touch.

In all, Simon is truly a softy with you. He melts into your touch every time you touch him, allowing himself to show his vulnerability to show and his tensed muscles to relax, rubbing his head into your neck as he grunts when your fingers go through his hair.

Despite his severe paranoia of you and your safety, Ghost still allows you to stay in contact with your family; catching up in conversations over the phone while he’s near you to hear what you’re talking about.

He understands you need socialization, and he won’t keep that from you. But Simon hates it. Deep fear rumbling in his stomach as he watches you drink coffee with a family member.

Just as you promise to be safe, take the pepper spray and knife, and you come back to him, you’ll be allowed to do whatever you want.

—

Masterlist || Please consider reblogging and commenting instead of liking, it helps me as a creator!! Stay well!!

Do not plagiarize, repost, modify, translate or copy my work.

[shiongenkai]

Tokyo Debunker Headcanons

I'll probably add to this list again, so this isn't all of them forever, but here's some things I like to kick around in my brain about...

Jin

His style of playing chess is extremely close to Yuri's, and vice-versa. He'll deny it if you point it out though.

Kaito

He's just like his grandma when she was young, and she finds it fun to tease him about that (even if he doesn't realise that's why she's teasing him).

His bow aim depends on his own confidence for the most part, but also on how his bow is feeling, so even if he's perfectly confident, his bow will miss to mess with him sometimes

King thinks he's striking out with Luca and the MC daily, but the two of them always clench their fists in pure adoration when he leaves. 'So pathetic we can't NOT want him' vibes.

He got along with Zenji before he died. Sometimes he can still see him, but can't recognize that it's Zenji due to him appearing like the shadowy monster figure.

He's able to see the tree on Towa's hill, which is how they originally became friends.

Lucas

Him and Lyca occasionally meet up to discuss new things they've learned about Japan and exchange notes on slang they don't understand

Sho

ADHD king who channels his restlessness and pent up energy into different hobbies and sparring.

Always jumping to a new thing since he gets bored easily and tends to pick up on the basics intuitively.

Haru

He has a difficult time accepting genuine help outside of his immediate circle of Towa and, very very recently, Ren. He's fine leaving what he considers basic tasks to others (even if his definition of 'basic' is still much more involved than others) but when it comes to lessening his own workload, he's super avoidant of it

On that note, king doesn't get nearly enough sleep. He tends to snag small hour naps throughout the day rather than sleeping for an extended period of time. He feels too restless otherwise.

Despite seeming like he's willing to spend a lot of money on things that don't really matter (tracking devices, new fliers, etc), he virtually never buys things for himself or his own sake outside of drinks at Rui's bar. A $100 purchase for someone else is worth more to him than a $2 purchase for himself.

Towa

He and Shion have a rivalry over Haru, which Haru doesn't know about. Towa is very proud he gets to stay by Haru's side while Shion can't. Shion will die mad about it.

His perception on what's dangerous to humans has been skewed by being around Edward and Shion, so he thinks anything that hasn't killed them is safe enough for humans too (even when it's not).

Haru banned him from visiting Sinostra

He knows about Haru hanging out at the bar but doesn't mind it as much as Haru thinks he does. He prefers to chill at the hill anyway, and Haru can't see the tree.

Ritsu

Ren forced him to join his game guild for the invite bonus, and both of them expected Ritsu to hate it, but Ritsu accidentally got super, super into it. More into it than Ren. It is insufferable for them both

He has behavioral models for everyone, including anomalies like the ZipperCrocs and Peekaboo.

He is insanely, terribly gullible, and the other first years have a field day messing with him over it.

Leo has him blocked on WickChat after Ritsu quoted one too many stupid laws at him.

Zenji

He became scared of ghosts after coming to Darkwick since he realized they were real at that point.

He's the 'He asked for no pickles!' for Jiro, and has carried that over even though nobody but Haku can hear him advocate for his brother.

He sneaks out at night a lot to go watch people sleep, not because he's trying to be a creep, but because he likes to see people look peaceful at rest. He misses that sensation.

He created videos before he died, but rebranded after he died to capitalize on the idea of 'famous artist dies and works become more valuable'.

Yuri

He's a germaphobe, but only outside of the medical contexts. He obviously keeps clean for operations like a doctor should, but he doesn't freak out if he gets blood on him, or so on. If blood or dirt gets on him in any other context he freaks out.

He has OCD tendencies and likely OCD itself, but he's horrible at diagnosing himself with issues, and doesn't trust other doctors to do it for him.

The aforementioned difficulty also extends to physical issues like injuries, but he's more willing to rely on Jiro for those.

Ed

He is unironically a fan of Leo's TikTok and regularly watches his content.

[areyoudreaminof]

some word salad behind the cut

I never thought I’d ever get into writing. My self esteem is so minimal it’s nearly non existent, so I had never bothered to try. But I started writing last year and found I was enjoying it. I made grand plans to write more until I didn’t.

My passion became my poison, suddenly.

As I scrolled through endless fics and writers much more talented than I am, my anxiety perched itself on my shoulder like a crow and squawked in my ear.

“The shit you’re putting out? No wonder nobody is reading it. You’re writing boring stuff. Who gives a fuck about kids and one shots?” It would say. I’d reply that I didn’t want to write smut. I don’t like doing it and it felt silly.

“So why are you writing at all?” Anxiety Crow said, “That’s what people want. And you can’t even do that.”

It came to a head right before Elucien Week. Last year, I wrote three fics I am still immensely proud of. One of which opened a door for me with the first Next Gen characters I came up with. I had assumed that I’d have something else lined up for this year's Elucien Week.

But in that year, I had a lot of personal changes and mental health challenges that weren’t getting better. I made the mistake of starting a long fic and it became this beast that I couldn’t tame. Even one shots and snippets became a chore. I’d have to force myself to finish a chapter, to try and translate the images I saw in my head to paper, but it wasn’t working. This coincided with my depression peaking in early 2024, in which I got suicidal and had to seek help.

By January, I’d gotten more frustrated with my writing, by June, I despised writing in its entirety. Three days before Elucien Week was due to begin, I hovered my mouse over DELETE ACCOUNT on AO3 and nearly trashed a year worth of work. I decided to take a step back to clear my head and to put a stop to this toxic competition I had with myself. I didn’t want to lose the hobby I’d grown to love and destroy the new friendships I’d made. I was absolutely terrified of losing those wonderful friends I’ve made and I felt so guilty and angry at myself for fumbling the bag and not writing anything.

I can’t even tell you why I obsessed over it, I may never go back to writing at all, but the weight of that self hatred has eased up from my chest. It’s not eating me alive anymore. That’s not to say it’s gone of course. Just the other day I had another major moment of doubt, and nearly trashed everything, again. I’m trying to parse through my own mind constantly to sort out my own spirals and triggers. Some days it’s working, others it’s not.

I think I’m now telling you about it, because I’m sure you’re feeling it too. People reached out to me to check on me when I left and others to let me know they were having the same problems. The feelings of inferiority among fandom, the nagging expectations we placed on ourselves. Never mind any of the challenges we face in our daily lives. What’s the worth of my mental health and happiness and why the fuck do I keep measuring it like this?

Whatever comes of this break, I hope that all of us can find our self worth, wherever it is. I see so many incredible artists, writers, and people that inspire me to want to keep going. If you’re reading this, you’re one of them.

Take a breath and take a break. We’ll figure it out.

[itscherrylipsforme]

The missing piece: Oliver Quick x fem!reader

Part 2 here

Summary: A few months after Saltburn becomes completely his, Oliver still feels like something is missing. Without being able to put a finger on it he decides to pay a visit to Oxford, where all started, trying to find the answer between his old memories. Fate believes that a pretty and sweet student he meets in a bookstore is the piece of the puzzle he needs right now. After all everyone wants to be showered with love, don’t they?

Warnings: Post Saltburn fic, a little bit dark (it’s Oliver, what you expected?), age gap (he is around 15-17 years older), slightly innocent kin? (nothing sexual)

Words: Around 1700

Author's rambles: Okay, I feel in love with him the movie and I am kind of embarrassed about it (It’s not my fault hat the actor has pretty eyes and a gorgeous accent, fine?) For your own good, don’t aspire to have a boyfriend as toxic as him in real life. Also this is my fic on Tumblr, please be nice

Masterlist Characters I write for

Likes and reblogs are appreciated ღ

I do not authorize any of my works to be copied, translated or plagiarized ✗

There is a psychological phenomenon that claims that after achieving something we have been longing for some time instead of the sense of satisfaction we were expecting we feel incomplete, hopeless and already looking forward to our next success. After having the Saltburn's keys just for himself, Oliver experienced that piercing emotion for the first time in his life. If he was painfully unaware of it or simply decided to ignore it remains as an open question until today. The only thing that was certain for him at that time is that he needed some action, a new goal, maybe some entertainment, and specially he needed answers. That’s why he decided to go back to the place it all started nearly sixteen years ago

Oxford hadn’t changed a lot since he graduated, as he had the chance to notice it. Different names, different faces, different decades… But still the same social scheme it was back them. Groups of rich daddy’s and mommy’s children swarming around the campus, pubs where you had to drink to be accepted, and poor little nobodies who had to adapt or die in the process

He rented a large flat not so far away from the university, and in the café just below it he rediscovered a hobby he had always had, but which have been almost forgotten on those last months on the mansion. Looking at the students, being able to read through their facades while accompanied by a cup of coffee, became his new pastime. But people always talk and after some weeks spending the afternoon in the café terrace just lost in his thoughts he realized the odd glances the staff shot towards him, so he decided to hide his true interest behind a less complex and unique one. The next day he went to the closest bookstore to buy any novel that would help him with his purpose, after all, people just ask fewer questions when you are reading on your own. That was when he found you sitting on a couch, legs crossed with a book between your small and soft hands

Pretty, beautiful, gorgeous even. Young, probably still studying at Oxford. On the shy aspect, lovely and smart as he guessed correctly. Sweet smile. Bright eyes. Oh, and some soft curves he was able to peep while he seemed to be looking at the shelves by your side. Wait, was that a blush, what he saw on your cheeks? Another scholarship student as he was back then. The fact that your clothes weren’t from big and expensive brands and that you spent your afternoons in the bookshop without really buying anything was the clue he needed to be sure about it. God, you were adorable, perfect, just what he needed right now and he decided to start working on it

Time had shown him that patience and a good plan could take you far away, this is the reason why, although he was eager to come to you and straight-forward mesmerize you with his tricks, he waited. He spent the next five weeks going to the library more or less daily hoping to see you, and luckily (since he was used to building his own luck) your schedules always matched. He always sat on an armchair to read next to yours, close but not enough to be suspicious. Just after he had made sure you have not so subtly looked at him a few times, he decided to make the move

“The Secret History” a deep silky voice said from behind your seat. His face slightly near to your face which made the words linger in the air for some honey-like seconds “You have a good taste”

“Thanks… Thank you” you manged to say in sweet and shy whisper

“First time you read it?” he asked and a shake of your head was the response he got

“No, I have already read it a couple of times in pdf. But I have never owned the physical book”

“We can have that keep happening, can’t we?” he grinned, and you couldn’t remember if he was the first man who had smiled and looked at you in that way “May I have a look at it?” his large and firm hands came to hold the cover as he stood up and went straight to the cashier “Follow me, darling” the nickname rolled in his tongue, sweet as candy, and before you thought about it, you did as he said. You were obedient, good thing, he thought to himself. He pulled the money out of his wallet in merely seconds, paid for it and hand it back to you

“Thanks, but I can’t accept it” you said slightly embarrassed

“Of course, you can! It truly is an amazing novel, you deserve it” he smirked. His words have had just the reaction he had expected from you, cheeks covered with a tiny hint of pink “I have always found myself relating to Henry Winter, I just need my Camila now”

You were taken back, was that an attempt to flirt? Because if it was, he had your attention. While you tried to make any sense out of your thought, he spoke again

“I am usually on a café nearby, if you are interested you could come sometime” Another smirk, and at that moment you knew that this man was going to be the death to you. Things like this only happened to the main characters in romance movies

“I don’t even know your name”

“ You can call me Oliver, darling”

“I am y/n”

“Beautiful, beautiful y/n, it was a pleasure to meet you. Hope we see each other again”

And you did. Between coffees, books, conversations and more, he had you wrapped around his finger by the time your classes ended. Oliver was sweet, devoted, intelligent… all you could ever ask for in a man. He was straight out of your dreams, and damn he felt you were straight out of his. Innocent, easy to make blush, could keep with his ramblings and most important, you were eager to love, and he was eager to be loved

Yesterday it had been your graduation, when you left the ceremony in that beautiful dress he had insisted on buying you and wrapped your arms around him, he felt like his plan has almost completely succeeded. Almost, you wanted a fairy tale romance, and he was going to give you one. Keeping things slowly and delicate. But when he woke up and felt you laying on his chest sleeping peacefully, he couldn’t help but want to make you his. That had been the only night you had spent in his apartment in your months together. He had sworn to himself that he wouldn't rush, so he didn't. At least he was glad you were coming with him to Saltburn for a few weeks in the summer and you could bet he wouldn’t let you leave the mansion again if he could. After all, you were all that he wanted. His missing piece

Part 2 here

[ao3-shenanigans]

Hi! I was wondering if I could ask for some help. Should I tell a commenter that their constructive criticism hurt me? For context - I have a note under my fics saying comments welcome, but have never received criticism before. One user has taken it upon themselves to offer me some writing advice. It’s not bad advice, although to be honest I’ve not found it particularly valuable and don’t plan on going back to change my fic. They’ve said that certain sections felt rushed but have commended me for trying out a different writing style. I wasn’t even aware that’s what I was doing. Writing is my hobby and although I put a lot of effort into it, I don’t have lots and lots of time to be meticulous. I don’t mind that they enjoyed the “rushed” sections less, but I do mind that they didn’t first ask me if I was willing for receive the criticism.

Is this my fault for not being specific enough about which comments I’d like to receive? I didn’t think I had to be explicit about that, because I assumed nobody would do it out of the blue (possibly naive of me). I don’t want to indicate to the commenter that I’m hurt, only to potentially be told that it’s my own fault. Perhaps I should just leave it alone now? Any advice would be appreciated, and thanks for what you do!

Apologies! I thought I had answered this ask earlier but I guess it didn’t go!

I don’t think either one of you is particularly to blame. My reading of the situation is a very unfortunate misunderstanding wherein you did not expect such comments as they’re not super common and considered impolite in most fandom circles, and the commenter likley did not intend to upset as they were most likely unaware what they were doing was not perceived as helpful or wanted.

So, as unhelpful as it might be, I don’t think you were in the wrong; it’s likely the commenter is just unaware of the sort of general Ao3 etiquette that most folks already know.

I think you have a couple options— to ignore it, try and talk it out, or perhaps just add a new author’s note at the start or end of the next chapter with something a long the lines of:

“thank you all for the thoughtful comments; for now if you’d please refrain from constructive criticism, I’d appreciate it.”

And leave it at that, you don’t have to justify your request if you don’t want to.