#officer singer is useless

[expecto-kedavra]

Harlow’s Last Stand

[badgerbl00d]

captain's girl

☆ characters: akagami no shanks

☆ up next: tbd

☆ summary: shanks has always had a soft spot for you but as he spends more time around you that feeling intensifies- he's fallen, and hard.. how will he confess?

☆ a/n: i lost the ask that originally submitted this but i loved this prompt! so so cute and always lovely to write for my favorite captain.. shanks nation rise!

Shanks hadn’t slept in days. 

Shanks- an emperor, had been a pirate for decades and he knew well what it meant to be selfish. To be faced with all the treasure and beauty in the World and it not be enough until one had it all to himself. But he’d only ever seen it. In allies and enemies alike he had seen that corrupting burning want- no, need for something that drives one nearly mad. He’d seen fellow seamen be consumed by this bubbling and boiling desire that had always sickened him to think about.

And then there was you. Beautiful, strong-willed, and unafraid of pirates and men and danger and swords and, all of the sudden, he began feeling the symptoms of that dangerous selfishness. He’d watch you laugh with Benn, or cook with Lucky, or play cards with Yasopp and his chest would tighten. His nerves would begin to ebb and flow in uncertainty and the terrifyingly unfamiliar feeling of jealousy began to sprout within the captain of the Red Haired Pirates. He’d spend hours poring over a potential solution– something to make it go away. But everything he tried was useless. Any slight progress immediately crumbled the moment you walked by him. He’d found a nice girl on an island and flirted with her, buying her drinks, treating her special as the rest of the crew began to pour into the bar. It was working! She liked the same music as him and thought he was funny. But then you’d walked in with Beckman, your perfume immediately recognizable to him and he folded. You were entirely captivating to him, and bless him, he tried to listen to the girl in front of him and feign interest in what she was saying but all he could focus on was the sound of you laughing and thanking the men who were sending drinks your way. On a separate occasion, he’d taken a different approach. You were in a particularly cheeky mood and not the most prone to taking orders, so he got frustrated. He leant into that frustration, barking at you for not listening. But you just rolled your eyes and begrudgingly got up to do what he was asking. As you walked past him, you raked a fingernail across his chest and offered assistance if he needed “any help de-stressing.” And with a wink you were off. After that little incident, he could hardly sleep and was quite literally plagued by (very inappropriate) thoughts of you and decided it would be best if he didn’t do anything for a while. This had been going on for months now.  A one sided game of cat and mouse that Shanks did not want to be playing, after all, he wasn't used to playing the role of mouse. Shanks was a man who always got what he wanted.

But he was realizing there was no escape. Constantly you teased him, tempted him, lured him, all to act like nothing the next moment. His head was spinning. Just this morning, you ran into him at breakfast and asked if he wanted to go into town with you. He came up with some half assed excuse and tried his hardest to keep his composure when you pouted at his and said, “Pretty please?” He went up and moped in his office, going over all those moments when he felt that now familiar ache in his chest– that throbbing pain that felt like his swollen heart was being mushed up against his ribcage and had been making his daily life on the ship, oh, so inconvenient. 

Like a few months ago when, in your typical fashion, you’d put together a small band out of the rag-tag musicians on the crew. An upright bass player out of your intel gatherer, a drummer out of one of Hongo’s assistants, some brass players that you put through a very selective audition, and, of course, you as the singer. He remembers walking out after having a few drinks with those of his men that he was closest with and hearing the sound of your voice singing a soft jazz tune. ‘I wish you bluebirds, in the spring…..’ his heart picking up a bit, and him leaning over to look at the band playing, ‘To give your heart a song to sing, and then a kiss…’ Him rushing down the stairs and urging the crew to dance, asking Lucky to get behind the bar and start making cocktails and drinks, ‘But more than this, I wish you love’ anything so that he could sit and listen to you. He remembers the boyish surge of energy that coursed through him when you shot him a playful wink. A thank you for entertaining your antics and encouraging your little band of criminal musicians. 

Or last week, when you stopped by his office (he’d begun spending more and more time locked in there attempting to find reprieve from your presence which was quickly becoming all too much for him to be around) and knocked on his door in the way you always knocked on any door. Three rhythmic little taps, always quiet and polite. “Come in!” he’d said, forcing his voice to steady itself like his heart wasn’t crawling up into his throat. “Hey Shanks– I have something for you.” You made your way to his desk, dropping a little parcel on it before going to lay down on the couch in his office, a seat he always kept open for you. It was just an old leather chair, but he knew how much you liked it. He opened up the parcel, watching you pull out a cigarette and bring it to your lips, holding it droopily between them as you dug around in your jacket for a lighter. He finished unwrapping the gift, a compass falling out. Gold and the initials R.H.S. engraved in the back. The glass had been carved out so that it was angular and there was a detailed inking of the ocean in the back, and the north arrow was dark red. He turned it over in his palm, “R.H.S.?” he asked. “It’s funny, huh! Red-Hair-Shanks,” you laughed, “It made Benny crack up so I snatched it. They wanted $15,000 for it! Like hell was I gonna pay that…. Hey, do you have a lighter?” You walked back over to him, leaning on his desk, looking down at his face, batting your eyes at him all doe-like. He felt like he might faint. 'Benny' he felt a pang of jealousy but smiled to himself at the nickname. Beckman hated nicknames but you'd started calling him Benny and for the first time ever there was no protest from the man's lips. You'd wiggled your way into all their hearts like that- helping Lucky with groceries and keeping Yasopp company when he drank more than he could stand.

“Sure do, sweetheart,” he maintained his typical flirty cadence but failed to sound as confident as he usually does. You shot him a look. He sheepishly handed you the lighter but instead of taking it you leant over further, beckoning for him to light the cigarette for you. He swallowed and brought the lighter up to the cigarette, the two of you making eye contact as he lit it. You blew a playful puff of smoke at him before making your way back over to the sofa. You laid across it, kicking your shoes off and pulling a magazine from his shelf. “Playboy? Really?” He gave you an embarrassed grin and shrugged. You made a mental note that this magazine had been left open on a photo of a bikini-clad girl that looked an awful like you. Pervert, you thought. You put the magazine away and sunk further into the chair, taking long drags of the cigarette, filling up the room with smoke. Shanks was trying not to stare a hole through you and limited himself from looking over in your general direction. You were so at peace, your legs draped over the arm of the chair and your hands above your head.  An hour passed like this, the two of you sharing a silence that was only peaceful on your end. Shanks sat at his desk pretending to be deeply interested in a blank piece of paper and mulled over possible topics of conversation. He was trying not to beat himself up over his newfound shyness- he was like a teenage boy talking to a girl for the first time. When he finally got the courage to ask you about your most recent errand he was cut off before he could even start.

“Y/n!!! Help me with dinner, eh?!”

Lucky. You groaned sitting up, remembering that you’d promised to help him out with tonight’s dinner last week. “Sorry, Captain,” you said, putting your shoes back on, “I’d love to stay and fog up your office a bit more but duty calls.” 

He nodded and got up, nearly running into you. “Ah, sorry princess,” he said, guiding you gently out of the room with a hand on your back. 

“Try not to miss me,” you’d said, taking the cigarette out of your mouth and placing it in his. He furrowed his brows in equal amounts of confusion and sexual frustration. “Lucky won’t let me smoke in the kitchen,” you explained. You shot him a wink and were off. 

He took a short puff of the cigarette before taking it out and staring at it between his fingers. Your red lipstick stained the end of it. He took a very self indulgent inhale before setting it down on an ashtray in his office. It was the first time he’d smoked in a while.

He hadn’t remembered it feeling so good.

He was late to dinner that night and even Benn had indicated some degree of worry about his captain, asking if he was alright. 

Shanks knew this couldn’t last forever– that he would have to do something before he lost his ability to lead his ship entirely. But then, of course, there was what happened yesterday.

Some rookie pirates had convinced themselves it would be a good idea to try and loot your ship. You’d been out on the deck helping Beckman with some chores when the first group of them climbed overboard. Neither of you had particularly expressive reactions– after all, you could tell within a few seconds that they were neither strong nor experienced. Still, it was the general attitude of the Red Hair Pirates to avoid conflict as much as possible. So when they wrapped rope around your wrists and held knives to your throats you and Benn didn’t flinch. Some newer recruits had sounded the alarm which eventually led to the rest of the crew making their way lazily out onto the deck. Shanks emerged from his office, reading glasses still on and laughed at the sight.

“Yasopp– take a pic, will ya!?” he laughed, slapping him on the back, “Benny we’re gonna hang this up in the dining hall!”

Benn rolled his eyes and you smiled. It took another several moments before you realized that your body was feeling more and more weakened by the moment, but when you finally felt a dullness creeping up your legs you noticed that the man holding you was a devil fruit user. The Neru Neru no Mi you believed it was called, Sleep Sleep Fruit. Fatigue started to wash over you and you stumbled forward slightly. The laughter on the ship immediately ceased and Benn called your name. You tried responding but instead fell back, landing against your assailant's chest. Yasopp and Lucky both brought their hands to their pistols, and Benn had taken a more offensive stance though it was clear the effect was starting to weigh on him as well. 

“We’ll kill them both,” one of the looters had yelled. Yasopp shot Shanks a look, waiting for some kind of command. “Yasopp–” Shanks started, but he hesitated a moment. If his sniper made any kind of mistake it would be your life taken instead. Before he could react, your captor had drawn the knife down your arm, smirking at the cry of pain you let out as your arm was coated in red. “Shoot him,” he said, gaze turning black. You passed out, though whether it was from the pain or the effect of Shanks’ emperor’s haki on your weakened body was unclear. But the last thing you saw before blacking out was the haunting anger on Shanks’ face.

You woke up a bit later, your head throbbing and your arm bandaged. “Holy shit,” you muttered, “What happened?” Hongo and Beckman were sitting by your bed talking to each other and Lucky, Yasopp, and a few others were playing cards. 

"You passed out from the effects of the devil fruit," Benn explained, "And you got a nasty cut on your arm. But Hongo says you'll be healed up by the weekend."

You blushed, somewhat embarrassed that you were the only one to have been injured. "What happened to the other crew?"

Benn shot you a half-smile. An expressive mixture of pride and shame. "The Captain took care of it. Honestly all we could do was watch, we all know better than to get in his way when he gets like that. Never seen this ship so bloody, that's for sure."

You grimaced, "Suppose they won't be messing with us again?"

Benn laughed, "Definitely not."

“Hey, Y/n!” Lucky called out, “Want anything to eat?”

You sat up, pushing yourself to the edge of the bed and grabbing the glass of water Benn offered you, “Yeah, Luck. I’ll take anything, honestly. Where is Shanks?” Benn sighed and looked over at Yasopp who was giggling like a twelve-year old. You got the message. 

“Maybe we should tell him it’s obvious? And it’ll fix things?” 

Benn shook his head and leant back in his chair, “Nah, it would crush the guy. Maybe if you say something to him, though?” You thought about it for a minute. You'd talked with each other before about the captain's feelings. How he acted every time he was around you. Benn added that he'd never seen him like that before, "Buggy's given us stories about how he used to be around girls. He'd run the other way when a pretty lady talked to him. He's obviously gotten over it since then but it's sort of nice to see him like this."

"Can't blame him," Yasopp added, winking at you, "You're about the prettiest thing on the sea."

Yasopp was still laughing about it, over a game of cards with Lucky and Hongo. You appreciated their company while you rested.

“I don’t know guys. You know I love him just as much but will it be weird? I mean– no offense, but this ship isn’t really the ideal romantic setting. And what if he plays favorites?”

They all laughed at this, “He already is, sweetheart!”

“Just tell him!”

“We’ll have a big ol’ wedding!”

You rolled your eyes and asked to be dealt into the card game they were playing. Lucky came back with a bowl of soup for you. Laughter was filling up the small medical room and it echoed down the hall...  

Shanks’ crush on you was astoundingly obvious and what was more surprising was how he had been moping about it for the past four months. He was now in his room, shrouded in embarrassment. Half of it stemmed from the generally well known fact that Shanks and his crew were untouchable- or at least, should be. And the other, perhaps greater, half from the fact that you'd ended up hurt because he’d hesitated. It also didn't help that he had doubted Yasopp at all- he knew he never missed. He’d spent the evening drinking a bottle of whiskey to himself and replaying other embarrassing faux pas he’d committed in front of you. The bottle of empty whiskey sat in front of him on the desk and the sun had long set. He got up, feeling miserable, and decided to head to bed. He grabbed the empty bottle, pausing before he grabbed it. Your cigarette from a week ago sat in the mauve ceramic ashtray on his desk (also a gift from you– you’d said it reminded you of his “ugly pants”). He stared at the lipstick still staining the white paper on the end of the cigarette. His chest tightened and he looked out the window of his office. You were out on deck, your arm bandaged up, hauling some rope into a metal bin. He smiled to himself- an injury like that was no excuse for chores. You looked gorgeous. A white glow surrounded you from the beaming moonlight up above. Your hair was messy and flowed freely around your face shifting the shadows that fell on it. He knew, suddenly, that he had to talk to you. That in all his embarrassment and emotion and confusion about his feelings, he’d neglected to check up on you. He set the bottle down and grabbed the half-smoked cigarette, slipping it into his pocket. He paused at the door, momentarily enjoying the nerves that were coursing through his body. How long had it been since he last felt excitement like this? There were moments at sea where he realized that, thanks to his age and experience, he no longer felt those pangs and throes of youthful worry and excitement. But this? This was new and he was reeling like never before. He was submerged in uncharted waters and all of a sudden that spark of adventure that follows every pirate flared up inside him. Shanks closed the door to his office behind him, taking a deep breath. 

You wrapped up the rest of the rope and threw it into the container, before taking a seat on it. Closing your eyes and taking a moment to yourself. It was rare to have a night so quiet. You could hear the faint sound of laughter and talking coming from below the deck. The ship was slowly rocking back and forth.

“Mind if I sit next to you?”

You blinked your eyes open to see Shanks standing in front of you. It still surprised you how a man of his size and power could sneak up on you so easily. It was a nice reminder of how in control he actually was of everything around him. It put you at ease to know you were in such responsible hands and guidance. 

“You feel ok? It’s my fault I should’ve–”

You smiled at him, “What? This? I’m fine, Captain– I’ve dealt with much worse, that I can promise you.” He frowned at that, “That’s not a good thing, Y/n. I don’t like thinking about you getting hurt.” You shrugged and ruffled his hair, “I’m a pirate. A Red-Hair Pirate. It’s bound to happen. And you’re not perfect either. Believe it or not. What’s going on with you lately? So sappy.” You knew very well what was going on with him.

Shanks smiled and looked down at the floor. This was it. Now or never. 

“Y/n… You know that, well, women love me and- and that I love women,” he started. Your smile dropped. 

“M-hm.”

“Uh,” he rubbed his neck sheepishly, like a child getting scolded, “Well, I guess what I’m trying to say is that you’re not like other women.”

You looked at him, “Are you sure about that?” You looked unamused. He steeled himself– he was an emperor of the sea, goddamnit, you were just a woman! Just a girl on his crew.

He knew that was a lie.

You were his girl on his crew. And he was being eaten alive by your existence, completely consumed by the thought of you. He couldn’t live another day without relieving himself of his constant torture and the emotional suffering you put him through. He couldn’t wake up another morning without you next to him, begging him to sleep in a bit longer and asking him to hold you tighter. He couldn’t spend another night watching you laugh and smile and be the most beautiful, enchanting thing in the world and not call you his. You were his, not through ownership but through love. 

“Alright! Damn it, woman, you’re so intimidating.” Your smile returned. 

“I love you,” he sighed. It wasn’t as dramatic as either of you had pictured. He said it like he was simply reminding you.

“I love you, Y/n. And I have for months. Since I first saw you– since you first started giving me random antique shop gifts and coming into my office at the most inconvenient times and filling it up with smoke. I can’t look at the color red and not think of you. That’s my color, damn it! And yet– I see red and think of the brand of cigarettes you like and the lipstick you wear and the way your laughter sounds and the color of your nail polish. I can’t listen to music and not think of you. I mean- you’ve come on board and turned everything upside down. My men, my violent men, are playing jazz on Thursday nights! Lucky’s new favorite thing to drink is Cosmopolitans and Yasopp is taking daily showers and, christ, Benn’s new nickname is Benny and he likes it! Everything I have reminds me of you. This is basically your ship now. And I love it. I love how you're everywhere. And I- I need you. I want you but it's more than that- I need you.”

He took a deep breath and looked at you for the first time in weeks. You laughed- at him, and grabbed his hand. His cheeks turned bright red and he felt like a teenager again. You squeezed his hand, “F-i-n-a-l-l-y.” He took a moment to sound out your spelling, and smiled somewhat defeatedly. He laid his head down on your shoulder and mumbled into you, “Was it obvious?”

 You wrapped your arms around his neck and leaned your head against his. It was refreshing to touch him without it being strange or feeling unnatural. To just hold one another and understand that that was all it was– a touch. That before either of you said anything and broke this mundane, normal silence everything was perfect. There was no room for mistake or anxiety or insecurity. There was just the mass of red hair on your shoulder ticking your neck and your arms wrapped around his. But you figured he’d suffered long enough. 

“Very,” you said, answering his question, “There’re a bunch of betting pools regarding when, and if, you’ll confess. Though you don’t make a great effort to hide it. Looks like Benny’s gonna make some cash tonight.”

He shot up, somewhat offended, “I do hide it! I’ve kept my distance from you and treated you like everyone else.”

You laughed and sat him down on the bin next to you, “No, you haven’t. I’m your favorite. And though you have been avoiding me, when you’re around me your face is pink and you lose all that playboy gusto you think the ladies like. Plus you have those magazines lying around. It flatters me how much I resemble some of those models.”

His mouth fell open at this, realizing he had left it wide out in the open. You smiled at this, but said nothing. It was quiet out again– everyone had gone to bed early, tired from the day’s commotion, an unexpected change of pace from the typical mundane life of a pirate at sea that normally consisted of chores upon chores upon chores. The sea was calm tonight, almost eerily so. You rested your head against Shank’s shoulder and closed your eyes, it was quiet again. You could tell he was itching for a response. You smiled, enjoying the effect you had on him.

“I love you, too.”

You felt Shanks tense and opened your eyes, turning to look at him. He had a stupidly large smile plastered on his face. He was so damn handsome. His hand slid up your back and came to rest on your neck. He gently pushed your face toward his, a smile creeping up your lips, and tested the waters. You closed the gap, closing your eyes as you kissed your captain, shifting forward and finding your way onto his lap. Your arms wrapped tightly around his neck and you could feel him smiling against your lips. Shanks broke the kiss, pulling away after giving you a few more pecks. 

His arm sank down to wrap around your waist and pull you in even tighter. He rested his forehead against yours and looked down at your lips, plump from the kissing.

“You’re mine,” he said. 

“Yours.”

He sighed, relief flooding his body. You rubbed his neck, "Guess I wasn't as obvious as you, hm?" He laughed and squeezed your hand, "No. God, I was terrified. What an awful feeling."

You smiled. You were getting tired, and your arm was throbbing. "Wanna come with me to see Hongo? I think my arm should get re-wrapped." He nodded, standing up. You walked toward the infirmary, while Shanks stood back for a moment. Waiting awkwardly.

"Shanks?"

His name had never sounded so lovely. He was worried, "Should we tell people yet? The crew- I mean."

You laughed, and kept walking, "I think they'll figure out on their own. After all, I suspect that I'll be greeting them tomorrow morning with your shirt on."

He watched you walk on ahead a bit more before following after you, scooping you up in his arm and pressing kisses to your face. Shanks dropped you off outside of Hongo's door, letting you go in on your own. 'I want tonight to be just us,' you'd explained. Word does travel quickly on a ship. He waited outside the door, listening to you and Hongo talk while he rebandaged your arm. His chest felt warm and full, not with the previous tightness he'd experienced but full with satisfaction.

A familiar ebbing flow of egoism spread through his body. It was nice to be reminded of who he was. An emperor of the sea with one of the highest bounties of all time. A man feared and respected across the world. Wanted by the world government and untouchable to anyone. Almost anyone. Your voice bubbled up over the sound of his thoughts for a moment. His confidence had quickly reinstated itself.

After all, Shanks was a man who always got what he wanted.

[pers1st]

afterglow - alexia putellas x reader

part 3 of dancing with the devil, painkillers

pairing: alexia putellas x singer!reader

warnings: mentions of OD

Keira was taken away first. Alexia noticed it as she marched across the damp pitch, a winter coat shielding her body from the cool wind, her body glistening with sweat. Barcelona had won, the way they always did, and Alexia, as the captain, had been the first to call the team into a circle afterwards, in order to listen to Jona's speech, which she knew wouldn't be long today, and thank the fans afterwards.

The chants and cheers had been relentless today. Alexia knew it was the right thing to walk towards them and spend time with them, thank them, but as she watched Lucy, who had spent the last twenty minutes on the sub bench, put her arms around Keira and softly guided her shaking ex-girlfriend away from the pitch, tears shining in her own eyes, Alexia's feet stopped moving. Her gaze followed the women until it couldn't, and they disappeared into the tunnel.

If Lucy cried, something bad had likely happened. If she told Keira, it likely involved you. Alexia's heart was racing at the realization, and she managed to take a total of three rushed steps before a body pulled her shoulders back. Fighting the force slightly as she wriggled in what she knew was her best friend's grip, Alexia's worry soon turned into anger.

"¡Suélta me!" (Let me go), Alexia whispered through clenched teeth, struggling to free her arms of Mapi's grip and follow Lucy and Keira to wherever they had disappeared to.

"No", Mapi sighed, and suddenly appeared on Alexia's side, only letting go of the shoulder closest to her. Ingrid suddenly stepped towards Alexia's other side. It seemed the woman had appeared out of thin air, but your ex-girlfriend didn't have the capacity to wonder where she'd come from, or why the two were escorting her into the tunnel and towards the nearest office. Ingrid peaked through the door and sighed a snip of relief at the realization that the room was empty.

"¿Que pasa?", (What happened?) Alexia asked, her voice softer this time as she realized that something had most definitely happened. And it most definitely involved you.

"It's about Y/N", Ingrid started, leading Alexia to sit in the chair across from the desk before turning the chair around softly, crouching down in front of Alexia. The captain couldn't see the darkness in Ingrid's eyes, or the way her shoulders slumped, or the fact that this whole setup meant very, very bad news.

"Did she call you? Did you hear from her? What did she- what did she say?", Alexia asked, hope suddenly glooming in her. Maybe you had reached out to Ingrid, maybe Keira had reached out to Ingrid, maybe you wanted her back, maybe you'd allow her back into your life, maybe the two of you-

"No, Ale", Mapi sighed, a soft touching finding her shoulder gently. Alexia looked up at the woman who stood in front of her, and only then did she see the tears in her best friend's eyes. Mapi didn't cry often. She was like Lucy in that sense.

"Ale, she-"

Ingrid struggled to find the words to describe. Alexia struggled to find the air to breathe.

"She overdosed. She's in the hospital- it's-", before Ingrid could finish her sentence, Alexia swatted her hand away from her knee.

"No. No, no, no-", she breathed, suddenly the room closing in on her. The walls came flying closer and she could do nothing but allow Ingrid and Mapi to stare at her. Tears spilled from her eyes quicker than she could stop them, but in all honesty, even trying would've been useless. The woman sitting in front of Mapi and Ingrid wasn't the stern faced, dedicated and composed captain of Barcelona and Spain anymore, the woman in front of them was a crying, broken woman. She hid her face in her hands to shield herself at least a little bit, but it was no use.

You had overdosed. You took drugs?! Had this started before the breakup, had she done this to you? Had you done this on purpose? Had you been broken enough to want to-

Had she done this to you?

She thought back to the livestream just a few hours ago. It seemed like an eternity now. It was clear as day now - the way you had wobbled on stage, the way you had been so devoid of emotion, the way everything had just seemed off with you - you had been high. Since when were you doing drugs?! How had she missed this?

It took Ingrid's hand to reach her knee again for the woman to realize she couldn't breathe anymore.

"Ale, please- you have to-"

Alexia couldn't hear the rest of her words, because the sob that left her mouth was one loud enough to, it seemed to her, shake the whole stadium.

Overdosed. Overdosed. Overdosed.

The sobs kept wrecking her frame, even as Ingrid gripped her knee harder in an attempt to steady her captain.

"Alexia", Mapi pleaded, her words barely above a whisper. Had Alexia not been so encapsulated in her own thoughts, in her own pain, she might've realized how odd it was for Mapi to get, she might've realized how close she was to having a panic attack.

But she didn't. She couldn't hear Ingrid begging for her to take a breath, couldn't hear the soothing words the both of them kept repeating over and over again.

All she could hear was your stupid voice and all the stupid songs you used to sing for her. Would she ever hear that voice again?

It was a known phenomenon that the first thing you forgot about a deceased person was their voice. Alexia hadn't heard your voice in over two weeks, at least not in real life - would she ever hear it again? Would she forget it, if you died?

The thought gripped every cell of her body, squeezing and squeezing until the air dispersed from her lungs, until the bile rose on her throat, until she became so lightheaded she had to remove her hand from her face to hold onto Ingrid's woman and steady herself because of how close she felt to passing out.

It was memories of you that spun her head. It was your laugh that she couldn't seem to drown out anymore, it was the way you'd said "I'm leaving, I'm so sorry", it was that night you'd showed up at her flat, ready for the tour of the city she had promised you over Instagram messages, it was that first time you'd ended up in her bed and every time afterwards, it was every hug you had given her when the pressure had been too much, it was every phone call, every facetime, it was you. Everything was you. Every last bit of her thought about you.

If it hadn't been for Ingrid and Mapi, she might've stayed in that ugly and bare office forever. After all, why should she move? With everything she'd been told, she'd never move on anyway. Why would she go back to the city you had fallen in love with, why should she go back to the apartment you'd shared with her, why should she go back to the bed you'd spent so many nights in?

Because Mapi and Ingrid said so, and because Alexia was too exhausted to complain. It was Ingrid who walked her back to the changing room once Mapi had checked it was empty, it was Ingrid who'd guided her into the shower gently, setting out fresh clothes and everything else Alexia needed.

In the end, it was Ingrid who took her clothes off at the realization that her teammate wouldn't move, even if Alexia tried. She'd asked for permission, and Alexia had nodded absentmindedly, something that would've been unimaginable just hours ago. Alexia never let anyone see her in a vulnerable state of any kind, but she was too tired. Too exhausted. That wasn't what made her cry in the shower though.

It was the memories of you.

The way Ingrid took off her clothes was entirely different to the way you had. There was nothing loving (not in that way, at least), about it. Ingrid didn't kiss every inch of her exposed skin, Ingrid didn't giggle the way you did as she removed Alexia's shirt, Ingrid didn't peck Alexia's lips at every chance she got, but the fact that the woman removing Alexia's clothes wasn't you was enough to send silent tears down her cheeks.

The captain didn't even have enough energy to sob for you. The realization only multiplied the tears.

In the end, Alexia didn't know how she had made it back to Barcelona, back to Ingrid and Mapi's spare room, and, in the end, back into the bed you'd once laid in.

Perhaps it was the statement your team had issued mere days after the overdose, stating that you were okay physically, stating that you would begin rehab soon, stating that you would take some private time to deal with all of the past events.

Perhaps it was the fact that you disappeared off the face of the earth for a year. Not a single post, or story to your socials. Not a single song. Not a single show. Not a single message. It was foolish to say that she managed to forget about you, because - let's be honest, it was you she was thinking about every morning she woke up, every match that she would glance into the family section and not find you next to her mother, every medal she didn't get to wear as you made love to her. She could never forget about you. And she hoped that you wouldn't forget about her either.

Still, shock couldn't describe the emotion she felt as a hand tapped her shoulder gently as she stood at the FIFA's best awards, conversing gently with Lucy.

"Hey, strangers."

She heard the words before she could turn around to see you, but she hadn't forgotten your voice. She could never forget your voice.

"Hey, you", Lucy smiled with her teeth as she pulled your body into a hug, so tight that your eyes almost came out of their sockets. Alexia smiled softly as you frowned in Lucy's arms, chuckling at your expressions.

This was the last place she had expected you to be. It was the last place anyone had expected you to be minus Keira, Lucy and their families. All of them were here tonight, and it made Alexia a little anxious to know you'd been here throughout the whole ceremony and she hadn't even noticed.

When Lucy let you go, you looked at Alexia with a slightly unsure expression. You had known she'd be here, but as Keira was finally nominated for the award for the first time, and not just the best XI, you had promised her you'd be there, even if it meant seeing Alexia again.

In all honesty, seeing Alexia again was part of the reason you'd come here, though you'd never admit it. Reaching out to her would've been foolish after everything you'd put her through, clenching complete radio silence for over a year. This was a nice occasion - one where she wouldn't think you'd come just to see her, but could still converse with you (hopefully), without the attention being on the two of you.

Before you could think about mumbling an excuse to leave the two women at Alexia's lack of a reaction to your presence, the woman pulled you into a hug. A hug that was even tighter as Lucy's, which you hadn't thought to be possible. But you didn't fight Alexia's arms around you. You could never fight her touch, could never resist the familiar smell of her perfume and the way her hair covered your nose as you buried your face in the crane of her neck.

"Lo siento", you whispered into her, just enough for her to hear and everyone else to miss, though Lucy did smirk at seeing how tightly the two of you were embraced.

"Not here", Alexia mumbled back and pulled herself out of your arms, smiling softly. Though you were disappointed, you couldn't help the smile of your own. Not here meant somewhere else. You'd get to talk to Alexia again. You'd get to explain, get to apologize. It was what you needed, whether she forgave you or not.

The time came a few hours later at the after party. You had, at this point, escaped all of the photographers, but apparently someone had caught you on the livestream and your phone was blowing up as your manager texted you, asking if you were okay. You were sat at a table with Keira and her family, the woman's head laying on your shoulder softly.

"Cat's out the bag", you smiled slightly as you placed the device back onto the table, not missing how Keira lifted her head to look at you. Your best friend was slightly tipsy, and very tired at this point. The fact that the Barcelona federation had allowed them to stay at the after party had been celebrated before the actual party had even begun, while you had caught up with Lucy's brother, in one of the backrooms where Keira and the rest had gotten ready. By the point she had joined you again, with Aitana on her heels and the rest of the Barcelona women following shortly after, she had caught you in another bone crushing hug, whining about how happy she was you were there.

"Are you okay with it?", she asked softly, analyzing your facial expression as best as she could in her state. You took a sip of your water. It was actual water.

"Yeah. Tomorrow's gonna get even better."

Your album was scheduled to drop tomorrow. No promo, no announcements, no nothing. Just music. Just the most raw and honest music you'd ever written.

"Nervous?", Keira asked, just when Aitana came towards her again. You shook your head.

"¡Ven a bailar conmigo!", the woman shrieked, just as tipsy as Keira was, gripping her hands and pulling her up.

"Go", you smiled. "I'll be fine."

And fine, you were. You loved Keira's parents almost as much as you loved your own, and talking to them was easy, especially when all they could do was gloat about their daughter. However, there was another conversation on your mind. One that wouldn't be as easy. As if she had read your mind, a body appeared behind you, her hands laying softly on your shoulders. Alexia had always been touchy. She had argued that every Spaniard was this way, but when you'd asked whether it was just a Spanish thing and she was touchy with everyone, she had shut up about it quickly, accepting every teasing comment you made about her clinginess.

"Can I steal her for a second?", Alexia asked with her silly Spanish accent, the one that you loved so much. When you looked up at her, her green eyes shone a little.

"Of course, dear. Go on, we'll wait right here!", Keira's mother beamed at the two of you, but her quick words and accent were too much for Alexia to understand, so you nodded up at her instead, quickly lifting yourself from your seat.

Alexia's hand found yours quickly, not caring about all of the footballers, reporters and people in general who were eyeing the movement curiously, as she gently led you through the crowd and towards the hall you'd met Keira in earlier.

She pulled you into a corridor, the warmth of her hand transcending into your stomach as she nudged the second door open. There wasn't much in the room - a vanity, a clothing rack which held various suits and dresses, and an armchair.

Alexia glanced through the room quietly, and you knew she was scanning for a place for the two of you to sit on comfortably as you talked. You knew this because you wondered the same thing. The armchair was spacious, but it was made for one person only. The vanity had one seat, but one seat only.

This time, it was you who held onto her hand, gently pulling her to the floor with you. You lay on your back next to your ex-girlfriend in a similar position, glancing at the ceiling.

"Quiero mirarte." (I want to look at you)

Her voice was barely above a whisper but you heard it anyways, turning to your side to face Alexia, who once again mirrored your actions. With your head cradled on your arm, you glanced at her. Taking every feature of her in, recognizing every dimple, every freckle, the birthmark above her lips. She didn't look older, despite the year the two of you had spent apart.

"Lo siento, Alexia", you whispered.

She nodded. "You should be."

"I'm sorry for just- disappearing. I really am."

"Why didn't you just to tell me?", her voice sounded so fragile, so small, that you suck in a breath.

"Why did you not trust me? I could've-"

"Stop, Ale. Please, let me explain", you pleaded, taking another deep breath as she nodded softly.

"I should've told you, yes. But it wouldn't have done anything for either of us. I was under so much pressure with the tour and everything, and I just-", you paused for a second.

"It wouldn't have changed anything. I wouldn't have let you be there for me, I couldn't. I wasn't ready to be sober, Ale. I'm sad that it took an overdose to realize it, but the good thing is I realized it. And I'm sorry, for everything I put you through. I'm really sorry, please, forgive me."

You didn't think you would beg, but one look at Alexia was enough to completely spin her mind. You would've done everything for her to forgive you. Begging was one of the things on an endless list for her to say it was okay.

The next thing she said, however, had been completely unimaginable for you.

"Yo también lo siento." (I'm sorry too.)

What could she possibly be sorry for?

You had left her without an explanation, after years of loving her, after she had given you reason after reason to spend the rest of your life with her. Then you had almost killed yourself. Then you had completely vanished for a year. And she was apologizing?!

"No, Ale-"

"Sí. I'm sorry. I should've been there, should've realized, I should've reached out and-"

"No." This time, your words held more firmity and less shock. This time, she remained silent, her eyebrows furrowing.

"You couldn't have known, Alexia. I didn't let you be there. I didn't let you reach out. There was nothing you could've done. You did enough- every day for the past year I thought of you and how to make up for this- how to get you to forgive me."

"I have already forgiven you, amor."

You sucked in a breath at the nickname. Then-

"Come home with me."

You couldn't help the shocked laugh that escaped your lips, and you couldn't miss how it made her smile again- those dimples would be the death of you one day.

"You should ask me on a date first."

"Disparates, we didn't do that last time either", (Nonsense) she chuckled, reminding you of the first time you'd ended up in her bed, the first day you'd met her.

"I don't want to do it the way we did last time."

Alexia nodded.

"Okay. But you come home with me. Because I know that you wrote songs about this, and I want you to sing them for me", she smiled, reaching her hand out for you as she turned onto her back, softly pulling you towards her. Your head found her chest immediately as your breaths synchronized the way they always had. In all honesty, sometimes, during the past year, you'd wondered if your lungs worked at a similar pace the way they always had when you'd lay like this.

"I don't have a guitar at your place", you mumbled as Alexia began playing with your hair.

"Sí, you do. You forgot one. The one you bought me to learn", she whispered into her hand that was running through strands of your blonde.

"Did you?"

Your head shook as Alexia laughed, holding you even tighter.

"I tried, but I was- fallido", (unsuccessful) she breathed.

"La reina? Fallido? Increíble", (unbelievable) you answered, chuckling softly. You remembered the first day you'd tried Alexia to play the guitar like it was yesterday, and the awful combination of what you couldn't describe as chords that had echoed through the room and had left both of your expressions frowning.

You had bought her her own, mostly because you were scared she'd somehow break yours.

You would go back to Barcelona with Alexia tomorrow. You would go with her anywhere. You would do anything she asked you to.

"We should probably go back, Keira will be looking for me", you sighed, feeling more content than you had in a long time here, in this shabby room, laying in Alexia's arms with her hands in your hair.

"Sí."

You waited for her to get up, to push you away softly and take your hand in hers again.

"Five more minutes", she hummed. You couldn't resist Alexia. You could never resist Alexia.

notes: final paaaaart! what do you think? this was a pain to write tbh but i'm happy with the way it turned out! there'll be probably be some more blurbs about the two of them just because i rly like this "series"

also, thank you so so much for all of the support! genuinely incredible

[bluwavez]

YOU HAVE CHOSEN TO PLAY AS KIWOO !

THE DEEPDIVE EXPERIENCE is a simulation game where you will experience the members' lives up until now. Currently playing as KIWOO, the story will contain themes and situations of GRIEF, DEATH, SUICIDE, DEPRESSION, NEGLECTFUL PARENTS, and MANIPULATION. Please click off now if these themes and situations will be too much for you.

CLICK HERE TO CHOOSE WHO TO PLAY AS NEXT.

— 𝐋𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐋 𝟏 ; 𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐃𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐃.

CURRENT INVENTORY:

Your favorite teddy bear named Lucy. A copy of "Weathered Blossom" by Park Wang-Suh. A cup of tea you'll share with your mother. A bandaid for your scraped knee. Your love for your big sister, Namjoo. Stickers you stole from Namjoo's room. Strawberries for later. Your favorite treat, gummy worms. A collection of CDS your father gave you.

The house you grew up in is dusty and small. Your parents work typical office jobs that you don't know much about. You just know they're tired and don't have much time to clean the house. You wish it was cleaner here, but that's only when you think about it for too long. You have an older sister, Namjoo, who loves to sing and dance like your father did, but only on the weekends. It's been a long time since you've seen your father smile.

You're the apple of your sister's eye. She cares for you like a mother should. She brushes your hair before school, helps you with homework, and even makes dinner for you when mom is working too late. You love your sister very much. She's your best friend. You smile every time you see her even when she makes you learn silly girl group dances.

Namjoo says, "I have dreams of being a dancer. You can be the singer. You're a good singer, you know?"

You didn't know, but now you do.

— 𝐋𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐋 𝟐 ; 𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐍𝐀𝐆𝐄 𝐘𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐒.

CURRENT INVENTORY:

A camera you bought at a thrift store. Depression and Anxiety, a blossoming friendship. An invitation to train at Angelico Entertainment. A journal your mother gave you. Your love for your big sister, Namjoo. Books, lots of books. Tea you drink by yourself.

At fourteen, you realize you're gay. It wasn't a shock to anyone else but yourself. Your mom was more understanding than you thought she would be, but deep down, you know it's because she doesn't really care about your life, just getting you out of the house. Your father didn't react, just saying, "Tell me something new." He went back to eating his dinner with nothing in his eyes. Namjoo was supportive but told you to keep it to yourself. She says, "People are mean to gay people. I don't want them being mean to you for something you can't change." So you didn't tell anyone else.

At fourteen, Namjoo drags you to an Angelico Entertainment audition. You didn't really care about K-pop or being an idol--In fact, you want to be a librarian, but Namjoo can't do anything without you, just like you can't do anything without her. You two sing "Give Love" by AKMU without missing a beat, and doing the choreography Namjoo flawlessly made you practice for weeks. You're good at dancing, even if it hurts your ankles.

The table of judges loves you two. They adore your sister, but they favor you more. You're younger and a boy, but you can hit high notes like a girl. The man who sits at the center of the table, Son Jinhwa, his nameplate says, tells you that you have the potential to be a star. You've never thought about being a star before.

You start training the next week and move out of the house at just fourteen. You think it's normal.

Training is hard—really hard. You get called ugly by the managers, a pig by the dance instructors, and useless by your vocal coach, but you pass your evaluations with flying colors every time. In fact, you're one of the top trainees in the company. Even being in the top ten trainees, you feel useless and tired. You're so tired.

When Namjoo fails her third vocal evaluation, she's cut from the trainee program. You see this as your way out, and without question, you begin packing your bags with her.

"No," She tells you firmly. You knit your brows.

"I'm going with you. I always go with you."

"Not this time. This is a big company, Kiwoo. You heard Jinhwa. You're going to be a star."

"I don't want to be a star."

"Sometimes we don't have a say in what we become." You had never seen Namjoo this serious before. You hate it. You start to cry because the thought of doing this without her sounds even worse than hell. You experience your first panic attack right there on the spot. Crying, gasping for air, feeling like your heart is going to explode, you can't breathe even with Namjoo counting down from ten to calm you down.

Despite this, you keep training and Namjoo goes to a different company. A smaller one. She's sure to debut there.

You're fifteen when you get put on the survival show. The New Wave. It's awful.

Most of the boys are mean and don't want to be friends. Everyone but you is desperate to debut; you're only desperate to get to your phone to talk to your best friend and sister. Namjoo's debut is coming up soon, and if you want to be there for her debut stage, not competing on a survival show, you have no chance of winning.

Or so you thought.

The people like you—they like you a lot. Your rank only gets higher every week, and by the finale, you're in sixth place. You barely made it, but you made it. You're debuting with six other boys you either don't like or don't know the name of. Either way, you're excited. You cry when Jinhwa announces your name because you just can't believe it. The worst is over, you think as you stand on that bright blue stage.

You were so naive.

— 𝐋𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐋 𝟑 ; 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐘𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐒.

CURRENT INVENTORY:

The keys to your parents' house, you rarely use them. Tea bags for you and Noah. Matches because you hate using lighters. Hunger. The grief it's weighing you down significantly.

You never told anyone, but when you were 17 and Namjoo was 21, you two began planning how you two were going to kill yourselves. After only two years of activity, she brought it up first after her group disbanded. You were initially indifferent to the idea, but the more you two talked about it, the more serious it became. Truthfully, what did you have to live for?

DeepDive wasn't doing well. They weren't doing horrible, but they were underperforming to the point that Jinhwa often shipped you guys off to Japan. The group did well in Japan—nothing crazy, but better than they've ever done in Korea. You two texted about the plan daily since you couldn't see Namjoo in person. Every day, every hour, paragraphs about how and when you both will die and how freeing it will be to be dead, to feel nothing, to sleep forever.

Aside from the endless Japanese promotions, you found great success in singing OSTs for dramas you've never watched. Your songs perform well; they chart more than your group's songs, but you can't even bring yourself to care. The impending thought of your own demise sucks every bit of energy from you. Your success means nothing because it's fleeting. Death is forever.

Then you're eighteen, and Namjoo jumps off the bridge over the Han River. The detective told you she most likely died on impact when you went in with Jisung to identify her body. Your parents weren't in the country, but for once, you were.

It's an awful experience. It alters your perception of life, death, and everything in between. Seeing your best friend's dead body, feeling how cold and stiff her hands were, it changes everything—Her death changes everything. After the funeral, you go on a hiatus. You can tell by the looks in your groupmates eyes they don't think you'll come back and you truthfully don't know either. This failing group of boys you can barely bring yourself to care about is the last thing on your mind.

After a week of not getting out of bed, Jisung calls your mom because he's worried. She tells you to move back home, saying, "We should all be together right now."

You throw a fit—a massive fit. You shout at your mother the loudest you ever had, screaming at her to leave you alone, spewing the unspoken truths at her, and laying your family's business out for the entire dorm to see. There's not much business to air out, and that's the problem. Your parents weren't there. Namjoo was. She was the only family you ever had, and now she's dead, completing a plan that was supposed to include you without you. Your mother had no right to mourn, and neither did your father.

After that, you stay in the dorm, mainly in your room, rotting in your bed to the point your sheets fuse to your skin.

Jisung and Noah take care of you. Jisung helps you shower no matter how humiliating that is; Noah brings you food and sits with you even when you don't say anything for hours; Jisung sometimes sleeps in your room on the floor to wake you from the nightmares that become a nightly occurrence. Despite their kindness, you wish you were dead. You fantasize what it would be like to overdose in your bed and have one of them find you, altering their life forever.

You don't know why you think this way. You just do.

It takes you six months to rejoin the group and step outside again. The small group of fans DeepDive has collected rejoice when you step on stage again, screaming and clapping for you despite not even opening your mouth. For a brief moment, you have a purpose.

Suddenly, you're nineteen, and Jisung looks at you differently. At that point, you've never had a boyfriend, never even kissed a boy, and you're too busy. You've always been working. He calls you cute, and it makes your heart flutter. He puts his hand on your waist during promotions and when you two are in the kitchen, and he needs to get by. He watches your lips when you talk instead of your eyes. It's love, you think every time you look at him.

It took a lot of convincing, pestering even, for you to agree to have sex with Jisung for the first time. You're nervous and don't know what you're doing, but it's fine because it's love, and by the end of the discomfort, you'll be his boyfriend.

You never end up being Jisung's boyfriend. When you ask about it, he looks at you with so much pity you'd think he was looking at a wounded animal, not you. You feel stupid and used. You hate that feeling, so you end up hating him.

After that, men become easy. You go through them like tissues. It's low risk because no one knows who you are. DeepDive is slowly gaining traction, but it is not enough to make your face notable.

2020 hits like a brick. DeepDive has topped every chart and won every award you're nominated for. You're unstoppable, quickly becoming the global face of K-pop. It's very jarring, but idol life seems to be that way. One day, you're living off cup ramen that tastes like plastic, and the next, you're on Jimmy Fallon telling him about how much you love Arthea Franklin.

You're so busy you forget you're depressed. For once, you really feel like you're living your life. You're not happy, but you're not depressed.

You're finally just living.

— 𝐋𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐋 𝟒 ; 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐔𝐑𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐂𝐋𝐈𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐄.

CURRENT INVENTORY:

Books, you still love to read. Sweet treats you baked yourself; baking puts you at ease. Your journal. The anger, you don't know where to put it. The grief, you just can't let it go. It's too comforting.

You're twenty-three now.

You're wildly successful career-wise. You have a ton of money because of your golden voice. You're adored by your group's massive fanbase. Life worked out pretty well for you all things considered.

But the depression made you mean, and the grief made you bitter. You belittle your friends' decisions, and you shoot daggers with your words at the man you say you love. You're not sure you can love anyone at this point. You haven't spoken to your mother in years, and your father hasn't spoken to you even longer. You have no plans to speak to your father ever again, but sometimes you long for your mother's hand through your hair when you're upset.

You live a good life, you suppose.

[broke-art]

Macaque x reader Fighter (part 1)

Derek's gasps came short in his throat and he raced up the fire escape only to stumble on to the rooftop. He glanced around in a slight panic before resting his hands on his knees and gulping in large breaths of air. He thought his heart might finally get a break when sinister laughter seemed to come from everywhere all at once.

His head shot up as the demon spoke.

"You really thought you were gonna get away from me?! Haha. Guess again, kid."

"Look," Derek said breathlessly. "I don't want any trouble."

"Ohoho you don't, huh?" A black monkey the size of a human shot up from his shadow. "Then why don't you hand over that amulet and I'll be on my merry way."

Derek stumbled backwards getting a little too close to edge of the rooftop for comfort.

"No way! It's an heirloom. My sister needs it."

"Well that's too bad. Your sister is gonna just have to find something else. " The monkey launched forward but Derek fell backwards off the rooftop.

Macaque gasped and reached out to summon a shadow portal under the boy but he was too late. The boy landed hard on top of a police officer patrolling the streets. An alarm rigged to the cop went off the instant he went down and within seconds the place was surrounded by police.

Macaque growled and sank into the shadows as an ambulance was summoned and the boy was pulled into the truck.

He followed them of course but from that moment on there was always multiple people near the amulet. Then it was taken into police custody until the 'investigation' they were conducting was over. Macaque entered the police department many times through his shadows but the amulet had been placed in a safe that blocked demon magic rendering his abilities useless.

Just as he was about to give up he heard a couple of police on the case chatting.

"They want to give his belongings to his family so they can return them when he wakes up from the comma." A female cop remarked rather reverently.

"Do they have any clue when that will be?" A male cop asked.

"Not quite, but they are sure it won't be too long."

Macaque perked up at the information his mind fleeting back to the boy's declaration.

"My sister needs it!"

A smirk tugged at his lips.

Following the cops on the case the female pulled up the photos of the family from their database and macaque spotted the alleged sister.

With a grin he slipped back into the shadows.

You walked home from school barely containing the tears that threatened to spill at any moment. Your brothers words from that night haunted your memories even now.

"Don't worry! Grandpa's amulet will help your heart." Derek promised giving you a careful hug. "You're gonna get through this and then we can finally get you on stage!" He smiled widely.

Your mind flashed back to the present and felt your resolve crumbling. You slipped into an old hidden alleyway and let your back hit the wall before sliding to the ground as the tears broke free pouring down your cheeks in hot torrents. You buried your face in your knees and sobbed as quietly as you could manage while still letting yourself grieve.

This stupid heart of yours ruined everything. First your shot at making music and now it had ruined your brother's life nearly killing him. He has wanted your grandfather's healing amulet to heal your weak heart so you could follow your dreams of being a singer.

He always believed your voice was wonderful but you lacked the ability to keep air in your lungs as your heart would falter so easily. Even now it began to give under the strain of simply crying.

"Well well well what do we have here?" A low voice asked giving you a start.

Your head shot up to see a black monkey leaning from your now elongated shadow. Only the upper half of his body was present the rest still in the shadow.

You sniffled a bit.

"Who are you?"

The monkey smiled and stepped fully from the shadow.

"Name's Macaque and I couldn't help but notice you crying." He knelt in front of you raising a brow. "Seems a shame to ruin such a pretty face with tears."

A heat creeped into your cheeks at the compliment.

"Oh...thank you." You mumbled. "I'm Y/n." You offered him your hand.

He grinned and shook it.

"Nice to meet you, y/n."

He helped you to your feet and asked you about you had been crying after offering to walk you home. Which you gratefully accepted.

"It's my brother." You murmured "Yesterday he had a terrible accident. He fell from some random rooftop trying to bring me a stupid amulet."

Macaque rose a brow.

"Is he alright?"

You nodded a bit.

"He's alive...but he's in a comma. And it's all my fault." You whispered feeling more tears begin to swell in your eyes.

"Hey now that doesn't sound exactly fair." Macaque chuckled a touch nervously. "I'm sure it wasn't your fault."

You shook your head lightly.

"You don't understand. He was trying to get the amulet because my heart..." You placed a hand over your chest. "It's weak. And he was trying to help me."

Macaque's eyes widened slightly and he looked away.

"Oh I see."

You nodded.

"Well, that's not really your fault." Macaque mentioned. "I'm sure it was an accident. No one can take blame for that."

You glanced at him and grew a small smile.

"You really think so."

Macaque nodded.

"I do."

You felt the weight on your chest lighten some at his sincere response. Then you noticed an ice cream stand.

"Here, let me buy you some ice cream." You offered taking his hand and leading him over.

Macaque started a bit at your touch but didn't pull away as you tugged him forward.

"You can consider it my thank you for today." You smiled at him over your shoulder.

Macaque raised his brows for a moment before chuckling.

"Alright."

You two ordered your ice cream then he walked you the rest of the way home and as you stood on your porch step you both paused albeit a bit awkwardly.

"Thank you, for your help today." You managed glancing up from your ice cream that you'd been moving about the bowl with the plastic spoon previously.

"Heh. No problem." Macaque returned. "Here." He said suddenly digging in his pocket then offered you a couple tickets.

"What are these?" You asked curiously accepting them.

"Shadow play tickets. I preform every Tuesday and Thursday. You should come if you're feeling down and need something to take your mind off it."

You grew a small smile at the kind gesture.

"Thank you."

Macaque nodded and you waved goodbye as he faded into the shadows.

Macaque stood on a nearby rooftop as Y/n walked inside and smirked.

The seeds had been planted and before long that amulet would be his if he played his cards right.

This was requested by @chibithewitch

I hope this is satisfactory!!

[atlaspbody]

Yeah, Officer Singer and the Ministry of Magic were UTTERLY useless, in Hogwarts Legacy, to a frustrating degree. Then they had the audacity to expel Sebastian from Hogwarts and make him stand trial for killing his uncle, who completely deserved it. 🤬 I hope this story is fixed in the sequel. But for now, special thanks to all the wonderful fanfic writers who have fixed the story for us, many times over! 🫶

[defiant-wallflower]

Betraying Smile

Word Count: ~6k

Pairing: Loki x Reader 

Warnings: nothing too specific, mentions of less-than-ideal family situation, manipulative parent

This is my first real fic I've written and posted, I’ve been inspired as of late and wanted to give it a go :) I’ve been writing for a while but never had the guts to post anything until now! 

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

You remember it vividly, the moment your stupid band teacher from middle school told you becoming a famous singer wasn’t an achievable career. That you needed to ‘pick something realistic.’ It had all but shattered your worldview, that moment. Apparently dancing, your runner-up, wasn’t a suitable career either. Ah. You were pissed, and he was too, after you’d made a remark about how you felt that ‘settling for teacher’ was not a decision you’d be interested in making. 

Regardless, you weren’t surprised that you spent the rest of the period in the principal’s office, left to ponder whether or not you wanted to consider a different occupation. Ultimately, you decided you should, and thus began the search for a profession that would be tolerable, but also easily achievable. 

You’d realized as you advanced through high school that those two requirements were a far cry from synonymous, and the topics that piqued your interest would require hard work and grit to make a career out of. Inevitably, your determination to make an enjoyable life for yourself surpassed your commitment issues, and teenage desire to procrastinate.  You decided you would focus on physics and astronomy. 

Despite the inconvenience of having to give something your all, as you progressed through the early stages of adulthood, you grew more and more thankful you’d made the choice to commit to something you truly wanted. Not only was it rewarding, achieving a long term goal, but you landed what you eventually concluded was your dream job.Your stupid band teacher changed your life. Taking a deep breath, you admired where the hell you managed to end up with a smile. It was downright amusing that you’d acquired a job as a lab assistant to Bruce Banner. 

Now, how you’d ended up living in the tower, too, was beyond you. Your father lived out of state, but in pursuit of your career, you’d moved in with your mom not too long before you’d been hired. Her being herself, though, she’d had unrealistic expectations of you and was not particularly fond of your attempts to set boundaries with her over them.

Her favorite tactic was to do everything in her power to tear apart the person she was arguing with by claiming she knew their intentions and beliefs better than they did, and would argue their integrity as a person. It always got under your skin but as you grew older you learned how to reason, at least a little bit, with an unreasonable woman, although not without its side effects. For one, you despised anyone trying to get a read on you. You took it personally, especially if they were wrong. 

Another thing that only proved to worsen your relationship with your mother was that nervous habit you had; smiling when accused of something. The look on your face would always be pure guilt, regardless of if you were actually guilty or not. Your mother seemed to use this against you, as proof that she was right in questioning your character. 

The way she’d use these things to tear you down every single time you’d get into a fight hindered your overall communication skills, especially when it came to disagreements. In some attempt to avoid issues with others, you’d put up a facade for all the people you weren’t close with. At the current stage of your life, though, that list happened to contain everyone. 

After having moved back in with your mother and relentlessly trying to reason and set boundaries with her, there’d been a few weeks of a useless power struggle because she refused to compromise or ‘lose’. In order to finally gain the upper hand she’d all but kicked you out, expecting you to not have any other options and just do whatever she wanted. 

That next day, Banner had noticed you were distracted and you’d tried to brush it off, as it wasn’t his burden to deal with, and the last thing you needed was to jump into the politics of your mother. He seemed insistent that he help if he could, though, and in an attempt to veer the conversation elsewhere, you’d asked about the current housing market. 

After a long conversation with Banner and him trying everything he could to convince you it was okay, and no, you were not intruding, it would actually be more convenient for him if you did, you found yourself moving into the tower within the week. Your mother was not happy about that, but you were at your wits end and couldn’t find it in you to care. And now, here you were, in the kitchen at two in the morning, drinking hot cocoa and enjoying how still the world felt at this hour.

Somewhere in your train of thought, you snapped back to the present moment. The warmth of the mug in your hands bringing you a sense of calm, the soft glow of the light in the kitchen adding to the peaceful atmosphere. It was quiet, save for the gentle buzz of electricity emanating from the light fixtures. Tonight was one of those nights where you couldn't quite sleep, mind still restless despite the fact bedtime was ages ago. 

You knew distress wasn’t your source of insomnia, thank goodness, but you chose to seize the moment and bask in the tranquility of this late hour.  It wasn’t exactly healthy, you knew, but there was a nostalgic feeling in your chest from the lack of sleep. Letting yourself stay up so late into the night gave you a sense of control over your time, which wasn’t a feeling you were graced with very often. Additionally, your body’s physical exhaustion hadn’t caught up just yet, making the bout of insomnia all the more easy to enjoy. 

Soon enough, you began considering the pros and cons of pulling an all-nighter, but your thoughts were interrupted by a quiet grunt, then, “What, pray tell, has got you sleepless at this hour?” Snapping out of your thoughts, and registering the fact you’d been found, you turned to face the source of the question with a slight blush dusting your cheeks. You had to fight a smile, seeing the dark-haired god that stood before you. He was wearing a thin cotton t-shirt, pajama pants, and you’d never seen him so informally dressed. It was endearing.

“Nothing in particular. Seems to just be one of those nights.” You wished you were better at eye contact, but the best you had in you was to look down at the drink in your mug and bite your cheek. You were awful with small talk, which was only worsened in the moment with how nervous you got around Loki. You weren’t entirely able to place why, but one reason definitely being that you always felt he could see right through you, and it was unnerving. You hated being underneath any kind of scrutinizing gaze, especially not from the God of Lies himself.

“Ah. Well, enlightening me on your worries is hardly any trouble for me, should you choose to.” Loki sidestepped you to make himself a drink; tea, it looked like. You’d quietly stated that there were no worries to enlighten him on. He didn’t push, and left as quickly as he’d appeared, albeit pausing in the doorway. Turning his head, he added, “I refuse to endure later complaints of tiredness, so do try to avoid that outcome and rest.” 

You smiled slightly at that, but you’d done nothing more than a quiet hum in response and watched as he disappeared down a hall. Taking a moment to wonder about his lack of jests this evening, the argument that he simply did not have the motivation to be anything other than affable right now quickly resolved your pondering about the subject. You’d clearly not had the energy to be talkative, either. You supposed nighttime just had its way of doing that. 

You and Loki had a bit of a cordial friendship, but you weren’t really sure how to deepen it. It’s not like you had many run-ins, seeing as you kept to your room or the lab, and he the library or his room. You supposed that’s why it took you so long to meet him. 

It had been your first game night with the team, which, to be honest, was weird to say. You hadn’t expected your taking residence to be anything of interest, but Bruce had invited you and you felt it couldn’t hurt to formally meet everyone. You weren’t one to really start little chats, so the few times you’d be in the same place at the same time of another avenger, you never progressed further in conversation than a small ‘hello’, followed by a quick exit.

It was relieving that everyone seemed to take kindly to your barging in on their game night. You’d been stumped as to how you’d manage to break the ice with the group, but the card game you were playing resulted in a lot of laughter and talk seemed to flow easier, after getting to know the more vulgar sides of The Avengers’ humor that Cards Against Humanity had brought out. You were astounded they even played it regularly, to be completely honest. 

What caught your eye about Loki, though, was how exceedingly unimpressed he looked to be with the game. He refused to actually play, choosing instead to people watch and read. From the few bits of attempted persuasion you had heard from Thor, Loki’s presence tonight didn’t appear to be his own decision.

His attitude made you bristle, and in that moment your had been reminded of the way your mother used to ridicule you for being negative in such a way, especially about ‘spending time with your loved ones’. At the same time though, you related to how Loki seemed to be feeling. It was conflicting and you weren’t particularly fond of it.

After the game had wrapped up and the group had begun to file out of the common room, you found yourself caught walking beside Loki, who was grumbling about how his night had been wasted. Already on edge, you blurted without thinking, “Maybe it wouldn’t have been a waste if you actually bothered to appreciate it.” The incredulous look he gave you somehow got you on the defensive, and without any forethought, you kept rambling, “if you go into these things determined to be a pissy toddler, you’re not going to get anything productive out of it by the time it’s over. So, yes, your night was wasted, but that’s on you.” 

Loki opened his mouth to say something, but then closed it and walked past you, refusing to dignify your comment with a response, but you heard him mutter “the nerve,” under his breath as he walked away. You’d felt a little guilty, but he didn’t seem hurt by it, so you let it go. Wonderful first impression.

After that, though, you observed that he seemed to make a point to be snarky with you anytime the opportunity presented itself. He was never outright mean, but he was witty and had a sharp tongue. The fact that it didn’t deter you at all, though, had slowly resulted in him loosening up. 

You were relatively unphased by the God, seeing as you had bigger issues in your life and he wasn’t presenting himself to be anything more than vexing on occasion. Well, relatively unphased by him except for how you increasingly became more timid around him, reasons unbeknownst to you. 

Over the next few weeks, him loosening up made way for the two of you to fall into a more comfortable routine, but even so, you weren’t sure how to break your friendship past the surface level, seeing as your best wit, the kind that the two of you got along best over, the kind you’d given him the day you had met, was always impulsive and accidental. It didn’t leave much room for segues or lighthearted conversation. 

At some point, though, It seemed he’d caught on to how you’d be more prone to such quips whenever you felt tense and defensive, and after one particular snide comment from you he’d responded by simply chuckling and calling you ‘little spitfire.’ You weren’t opposed to the nickname by any means, but you didn’t exactly appreciate how much it had made you blush, or how Loki noticed it made you blush. Suddenly, you were hearing it far more often.

The following morning, or, well, a few hours after your run-in with Loki in the kitchen, you awoke feeling groggy as ever. Seems those few hours of sleep weren’t enough. How you were going to manage to stifle your irritability today, you weren’t sure. Thank goodness it was the weekend, at least. You couldn’t fathom going to work in the lab in this state. Trading your pajamas with a thin white t-shirt and a pair of gray sweatpants, you quickly made your way into the kitchen. 

This time around, coffee was your drink of choice. As it was brewing, you ran your hands through your hair and back down to rub your face. You weren’t really sure what you wanted to do today, seeing as you didn’t have much mental capacity for anything that required brainpower, but after flipping through a few different options to waste the day with in your head, you settled on reading. 

You’d swung back by your room to grab the first book from a series you loved as a young teen, and made your way to the library to settle into the couch and read it, stretching your legs across the cushions and laying on your back.

It was some fantasy romance novel, and the main character was incredibly stupid. You couldn’t help but lovingly tear apart the poor logic she’d had. If you discovered this book series for the first time today, you’d likely find yourself disliking it; the writing was poor and the Chosen One plotline wasn’t your cup of tea. But what was one to do? Twelve year old you was enamored with the series and it, unfortunately, became a piece of you. 

As you let yourself zone in to the worldbuilding and awkward remarks the main character would make, you felt the world around you slowly haze into nothing, as the words on the page began to feel less like words and you felt more like you were in the novel itself. 

You rarely allowed yourself to read like this, completely engrossed in the novel and completely oblivious to your outside surroundings. Which, you suppose, is why you didn’t hear the muffled sound of an airhorn going off somewhere down the hall. And also why you hadn’t realized Loki had stormed into the Library only moments later. Additionally why you’d been oblivious to his aggressive body language, the way he leaned against the doorway in contemplation, eyes locked on you.

Honestly, you’d been particularly distracted by the current scene unfolding in your book. The love interest held the main character in his arms bridal style, while they were trying to figure out a puzzle of sorts. She’d needed to be held that way because the riddle they were working with had mentioned something about her ‘needing to be in between the ground and the sky’. 

While in his arms, she’d gotten distracted looking at him, and found herself smiling lopsidedly. Or, rather, he found her smiling at him. He’d asked her what she was thinking about that had her smiling in that way, and she refused to enlighten him. ‘Need I remind you, you are in prime tickling position, and there’s no escape. Tell me.’ was what he’d quipped back. That part got you to squirm every time.

Still engrossed in the book, you shifted your posture, pressing yourself a little further into the couch, and bit your lip, a blush spreading across your cheeks. Loki had unfortunately seen this, and had then made his decision to approach you, practically stomping across the floor to where you lay on the couch. Grabbing the book from your hands and lifting it above his head, you yelped in surprise and covered your mouth with one hand while your blush deepened, only just noticing his presence in the room.

You knit your brows together, looking up at him as you lowered your hand and opened your mouth to ask what was that for? The look on his face in which he was peering down at you with, though, that off-putting smile and the mischievous glint in his eyes, had led you to ask a different question. “...why are you looking at me like that?” 

“You truly believe attempting such a weak prank, on The God of Mischief, no less, was an intelligent play?” 

“Loki? I hate to tell you this, since you seem to have hung your hopes and dreams on the notion that I do, but unfortunately, bud, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“I thoroughly doubt that, spitfire. But, no mind. It seems I’ve happened upon something far more intriguing that requires my immediate attention.” Confusion etched onto your face, you watched curiously as he lowered his arm, the one that contained your book in it’s hand, only for the realization to hit you like a truck. He’d seen you blush only moments earlier.

No.

Hell no.

He’s about to read that page, isn’t he? 

Dread began to settle into your chest, and without any true thought going into it, you leaped up to try and wrangle the book from his hands, throw him off balance, make him lose the page, something, but he seemed unfazed as he pushed you back onto the couch in the same spot you’d been in before.

Seemingly deciding one hand wouldn’t be enough to keep you in place where you lay, he settled for sitting on your upper legs to get the job done. You’d sat up as well as you could, and a small smile adorned his face as he bore witness to your struggle attempting to prevent his next actions. Simply playing your little game and letting you attempt to wrestle with the one free hand he had, he extended his arm over his head once again fought to contain his chuckle at the high-pitched grunt of frustration that had left your lips.

“My, you feisty thing. What might you be trying to prevent me from discovering here?” He was going to try to incapacitate you further, but quickly, he’d realized that simple nickname had all but done it for him. You squeaked loudly and immediately stopped struggling, practically collapsing into the couch behind you and opting instead to hide your face in your hands, peeking your eyes out to look at him between your fingers as a few strained giggles bubbled from your mouth. Loki could only imagine the blush had gotten worse since it first appeared on your cheeks.

Impulsively, he’d let out a laugh and lowered himself closer to your face, leaning on his free hand, which was now beside your head. Voice barely above a whisper, he uttered, “You are in trouble.”

You giggled again, and he sat upright, straightening his posture.  He brought his arm that was holding the book down once more, now at reading level. You instantly lunged for it again, only for him to glare at you and use his free hand to push against your shoulder, successfully getting you lying on the couch flat on your back yet again. After threatening to use his magic if you refused to just sit still for a minute, you’d finally half-accepted your fate and stopped trying to fight him, instead crossing your arms and trying to talk him out of it.

“Put it down Loki! Please.”  He glanced over once, otherwise pretending not to hear you as his eyes flitted over the page, trying to unravel where exactly you had wound up so flustered. 

Despite it being a poorly written novel, and wracked with an excessive amount of cliche, he hadn’t found anything out of the ordinary, unless you got flustered at even the idea of physical contact. Which, looking over at you now, he supposed wouldn’t really be too far off. He’d never seen you red like this, but no. You wouldn’t be practically fighting for your life over the fact a girl was being held in someone’s arms.

As he read a bit farther, he caught it, and a small smile graced his face once again. It was the boy’s threat. His threat to tickle her. Somehow, tickling being something that flustered you felt fitting to him, and he was more than prepared to use it against you, as payback for that little stunt that sent him careening into the library in the first place. 

He tossed the book onto the floor, and your heart was racing. You were screwed. The devious smile on his face told you everything.

“Well, it appears I’ve found you out, haven’t I?” You shook your head rapidly, quietly managing to ask if he’d please get off you now, to which he’d responded, “Oh, darling, I have hardly begun with you. Now, allow me to ask again; You truly believe attempting such a weak prank, on The God of Mischief, was an intelligent play?”

“Is that what this whole ordeal is about?! I didn’t even do anything!” you yelled and partially sat up, bringing your hands behind you and leaning on them for support. You felt incredibly nervous, and were partially trying to make your point, partially trying to keep the conversation going as to avoid the inevitable. But, he gave you an accusatory look, and gods, you knew your face was betraying you. You could feel that stupid guilty smile creeping onto your face again. That smile had lost you so many arguments. 

“Wrong. That little look on your face is quite telling. You have guilty written all over you.” You groaned in frustration.

“It’s not something I can control, Loki! My smile is irrelevant to my innocence!”

You didn’t know what prank he was talking about, but it seems as though if you didn’t figure it out fast, Loki would unleash his wrath on you. While you were stuck. Of course this is somehow the life you’d gotten yourself into, being trapped underneath a god who was deadset on pinning something on you that you had nothing to do with. Loki grasped both your wrists in his hands, tugging them towards his chest, and glared at you.

“What, exactly, led you to believe you’d get away with it? That I wouldn’t come seeking you out, finding leverage to exact my revenge with?” Your smile grew wider, to your dismay. You kicked against the couch cushions, still trying to throw him off, but said nothing in an attempt to keep him monologuing.

“Or, maybe, you were expecting that. Perhaps you eagerly hoped I would come after you? Something as blatant as what you did will not go without discipline, little spitfire, surely you knew that.” You being unable to hide your face through this ordeal made it worse, and you were pretty sure Loki was flustering the life out of you on purpose. He could see the flame that engulfed your cheeks, there was no way he couldn’t.

“Loki. I don’t know what you think I’m trying to get away with. I don’t even know what happened.” You breathed out desperately, trying to plead your case, and tugging at your wrists with all your strength. 

Unfortunately for you, your ‘strength’ barely held a candle to his. The gravity of the situation began to set in, and nervous excitement bloomed in your chest. This was borderline mortifying, but you reasoned that despite that, you’d live.

You knew Loki wasn’t judging you, and playfulness like this wasn’t something you had growing up. You weren’t entirely too eager to dismiss it so quickly, now that it’d found it’s way into your lap for what felt like the first time. Accepting your fate, you stopped sitting up and let yourself fall back into the couch with a grunt.

“Playing this ignorant isn’t assisting you, my dear. Your feeble attempts to hide the truth is precisely what is giving you away. You should know better than to lie to the God of Lies himself.” 

He placed both of your wrists in his right hand and tugged them above your head, effectively pinning you. Okay, so maybe you’d accepted your fate, but your self preservation kicked in anyway. You fought with new vigor, trying to squirm away, throw him off you, or anything that would get him to not fluster the ever living hell out of you like you knew he was about to, but all to no avail.

In the mess of it all, you’d made a comment that was more of a question about how he would know what the truth looks like if he’s such a God at lying, but it was one of your weaker retorts and it fell on deaf ears as the poised his free hand over the middle of your stomach and lowered it, his fingertips gently resting there. Giggling already, you tried to suck in your stomach, but it was proving to be a futile attempt at avoidance. His smile only grew.

“You’re going to be incredibly sorry, once I’ve tickled you to pieces. Ah, how had your book-boy worded it? That’s right. You, little minx, are in prime tickling position, and there is no escape.” He winked. Your face burned hotter, somehow. Then, his hands on your stomach sprung into action, clawing at the sensitive skin he found there, and you immediately squealed, slamming the back of your head against the couch and falling into high pitched giggles as he used feather light touches to torment you. 

“Oho, this is undoubtedly going to get worse for you, if you’re already giggling this much. I’m hardly even touching you.” He tutted and added, “You poor, ticklish little thing.” 

“shuhut UHUP!” Your giggles had gone up an octave after his commentary, and Loki decided to change tactics, switching to pinching and squeezing at your sides, moving his hands up and down the length of your torso. 

Your giggle fit had noticeably decreased, but he happened to dig into a spot just above your hip, and seeing you violently jerk, chose to keep his hand there. Squeezing rapidly and digging into the sensitive skin, he relished in the squeals and loud laughter it extracted from you. You tried fruitlessly to tug your arms down and protect yourself from his ticklish onslaught, but it was a fruitless endeavor. As you began to run out of breath he rested his hand for a moment, letting you breathe.

“Lohohoki!” You whined, a few residual giggles spilling out.

“Yes?” he traded his hands, the one previously holding your wrists now stilled at your hip, ready to jump into action on your other side, and the old tickling hand now keeping your wrists in place.

“This is freaking stupid.” You mumbled bashfully, avoiding eye contact. You hated that you were enjoying his little game, and even moreso, you hated that he knew you were. 

“Hm, agreed. It was quite reckless and, to use your own words, ‘stupid’ of you to allow me such dangerous information.” You glared at him and tugged on your wrists for emphasis.

“As you can see here, good sir, I didn’t allow shit!” You sucked in a breath at the gleam in his eye resulting from your comment. 

“That’s pretty bold language for someone so…devastatingly ticklish. And in such a helpless position at that.” Without warning, his hand that lay at your other hip began squeezing at a rapid speed, and you burst into laughter once more, thrashing against his hold. That reaction didn’t seem sufficient for him, though, and he released your wrists in favor of using both hands to now drill his thumbs into your hips. 

You shrieked, and your laughter became louder and more frantic, but Loki was keenly aware of your choice to hide your face instead of fight off his hands, seeing as your first move was to grab a nearby throw pillow and wrap your arms around it, crushing it to your face. You weren’t even trying to stop him. He chuckled. 

“Don’t believe I’ve failed to notice your lack of resistance to me. Silly girl, leaving yourself vulnerable like this.” 

Testing just how much you’d allow him to get away with, he left your hips alone, making both of his hands into little claws and ever so gently trailing his fingertips along your torso. Dragging up the length your sides and nearing your ribcage elicited a squeak, and he took note of how your breathy giggles seemed to increase in volume the higher up he got.

“Lohoki, we are in a frEHEAKING librahary!!” You squealed when he reached your underarms, and began lightly scratching at the sensitive skin, giggles now pouring out uninterruptedly. “Yohou’re supposed to behe quiet in libraries!!” Your words were heavily muffled by the pillow, but he seemed to hear you fine.

“Darling, the severity of your laughter is not my responsibility. You have a pillow to reduce the noise, do you not?” He continued his attack in that same spot, gently wiggling his fingers into the hollows, but in an attempt to get more laughter from you, he began to drill into the spot just above your highest ribs. Your giggles grew to soft laughter, and your grip around the pillow tightened as you pressed it harder into your face.

He paused, his hands wandering downwards once more, as he was trying to give you another breather. He lightly traced circles along your ribcage, attempting to pinpoint where you seemed most sensitive. The light touches sent ticklish shocks through your body, and it was nearly unbearable, how gentle he was being. You began to stomp your feet against the couch cushions behind him, but had yet to make any move to stop him, despite unsuccessfully twisting and turning in your place beneath him.

Observing how your giggles got louder the higher up your ribs his fingertips went, he settled his hands into little claws on the front middle of your upper ribs. shit. You tensed, but before you could make a move, he quickly began drilling into the spot. Gods, it was awful. You had no idea just how bad that spot was, how sensitive your ribs were, until that split-second of a moment where he dug in.

If the deafening screech that escaped your lips afterward wasn’t what caught him off guard, it was certainly when you flung yourself upwards and slammed the pillow into his face at full force despite having been completely docile moments before. It hadn’t moved him from where he sat, but he did pause for a moment, chuckling.

He stilled his fingers, but kept them poised at the spot, smiling down at you after you sheepishly brought the pillow down and apologized for the outburst, looking down and avoiding eye contact.

“Now, what ever could have brought on a reaction such as that, little thing?”

With a giggle, you answered, “you knohow what.”

“Well, I’m most certainly going to be doing that again,” he mused.

You dared a peek at him, smiling, and meekly asked, “Can you pause for a second, though?” Loki wasn’t entirely able to piece together why you’d asked, seeing as you seemed to be enjoying yourself, but he decided to play it safe and retract his fingers, crossing his arms across his chest. 

Still, though, he’d made a point not to get up from his spot, as to allude to the fact that we’re not done here. He found it rather cute, how you seemed perfectly fine with that notion. He raised an eyebrow at you, willing you to say what was on your mind.

“What exactly was the prank?” Loki bore an incredulous look on his face. He sighed, but took a moment to gather his thoughts.

“I can’t decipher exactly how many tricks you have up your sleeve if you’re unable to recall mine, but the one that started this whole mess was the airhorn duct-taped to the office chair in my bedroom. You clever thing.” laughter tumbled out of your mouth, and he took that as an admission to guilt. Continuing, he added, “I was distracted reading and didn’t notice it. I sat in my chair, and after that wretched noise went off I came seeking the revenge I so dearly deserved.”

“I am soho sorry,” you started, and Loki tilted his head slightly. Apologizing for it so easily? “Buhut I am not the one that did that. One, I have never even attempted a prank on anyone in this tower, two, I am not sneaky enough to pull a stunt like that off, and 3, even if I was, there’s no way I’d actually believe you’d fall for one that obvious, that’s just stuhupid!”

As Loki stared at you, he realized you made a good point, but now you were laughing at him. You’d called his brief lack of attention stupid. He simply would not let that go.

“You’re getting awfully cheeky there, considering how easily I’m able to do this.” he slammed the pillow back into your face, using it as leverage to shove you back down against the couch, and immediately attacked that spot on your ribs that had previously made you shriek.

And shriek you did. Laughter exploded from your chest, and you tried using the pillow to whack his face, but after a moment he flung it across the room and continued his attack. Not actually pushing him away but feeling the need to retaliate somehow, you had a death grip on his wrists as your feet were once again stomping behind him.

He was relentless, harshly working his fingertips into every crevice. When he hit that one specific rib, and attacked the same spot on your other side simultaneously, your laughter fell silent, and you let the ticklish feeling overtake you as you went limp. After a few more moments, he finally let up, letting you breathe and standing up. Reaching a hand out to help you stand, you took it, but picked your book up off the floor on your way up.

Looking at the cover of the book, he asked, “What exactly is the appeal of such a cliche-ridden novel?”

“I will have you know my twelve year old self was in love with the main love interests’ brother. I was a hopeless romantic..” quickly getting yourself into a long-winded conversation about the stupid things about the book your younger self enjoyed, you’d slowly evolved into rambling about the character you used to have such a big crush on.

Halfway through, some part of your brain clicked and you’d realized a large chunk of your ramblings were also traits Loki shared with this fictional character...which explained a lot. Your newfound timidness around him began to make a lot more sense. Once you’d caught onto that little fact, though, you abruptly stopped talking about it. 

“Seems you might have a type, spitfire,” he winked at you, and you realized with a blush that he’d caught on as well. You...were definitely not going to be addressing this any time soon.

“Um.” You quickly averted your gaze, refusing to look at him, and settled yourself into a seated position onto the couch and opened your book back to that godforsaken scene that had all but gotten you into this whole mess. “I’m gonna finish my book now.” 

“Mind if I join you?” Willing yourself to look at him, you saw that he had conjured a book of his own in his hands. You gestured to the seat next to you, and smiled lightly to yourself as he settled in too. Feeling a bit confident, you turned yourself to face away from him, leaning your back against his arm and pulled your knees up to lay the book on.

It was a comfortable silence that fell between the two of you as you both read the rest of the afternoon away. You eventually finished your book and set it down, but not yet wanting to get up, you let yourself take a nap leaning against the god and resting your head on the back of the couch.

The two of you spending your day reading together was definitely something that needed to happen more often.

[trektraveler]

Practically Magic Chapter Six: The Black Dog

Summary: Growing up in the same tiny mountain town, Y/N Owens and Dean Winchester despised each other. The only thing they ever agreed on was their need to escape. Life took them in opposite directions and neither of them ever looked back. So, when their paths cross over a series of gruesome murders in their hometown it was no surprise that old friction heated up again.

Dean never dreamed he’d be teaming up with a psychic, the FBI frowned on that sort of thing, but he was desperate. When that psychic turned out to be Y/N Owens, Dean knew two things for sure. One, Y/N was the real deal and two, he was in real trouble.

Pairing: Agent!Dean x Psychic!Reader, Dean x Reader, AU Dean x You Characters: Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, John Winchester, Bobby Singer

Warnings: Slow Burn, Serial Killer Elements, Witches, Haters to Lovers, Claustrophobic Elements, Murder Scenes

Author’s Notes: This is an AU taking elements from the film Practical Magic and applying them to a fictional world where Dean Winchester is an FBI Agent. You will find parallels from that movie here, some quotes and other elements that capture the essence of the world of the Owens Witches. Hopefully! Additional Author’s Notes: This is a unique reader insert story as I have given the reader a physical description including hair color, eye color and body type. Chapter Six: The Black Dog Word Count: 3819

     “You spend all your energy trying to fit in, be normal.  But you’re never going to fit in, because we’re different!” – Gillian Owens

    You efficiently shuffled the over-sized deck of cards as you sat at the kitchen table.  The familiar smooth edges and worn corners soothed your nerves as you repeated the mindless task.  It had been a week since you started working with the Winchesters and so far, you hadn’t been much of an asset.  You’d had no visions, no prophetic dreams, not so much as a spooky shiver!  Nothing!  You felt frustrated and utterly useless.  It was only a matter of time before the killer struck again and the pressure to produce something tangible was intense.

     Sam was the most understanding; patience being one of his many strengths.  He seemed pleased to have you around and always asked for your opinion on potential suspects.  Although, you produced nothing of substance, he was quick to assure you that your help was needed and welcome.

     Dean, on the other hand, avoided you almost entirely.  He shut himself up in his office, pouring over case files and drinking vats of sour coffee.  When he did emerge, it was to leave and interview potential witnesses or revisit crime scenes.  Or brood.  Lord knows he’d been an expert at that when you were children and he’d perfected his technique in recent years.  You couldn’t help but notice that even Sam’s deputies steered clear of him.  Silverton was a small town and shared their law enforcement with three other communities.  This was likely the first time these local boys had teamed up with someone of Dean’s clout.  The whole station was a bundle of nerves and anxiety.   

     Which is exactly why you were in Gran’s kitchen.  You needed space to breathe and to get your spirit in alinement to receive. 

     “Dear me, back to the training wheels, is it?”

     You continued to shuffle, watching your grandmother glide over to the stove and put a kettle on.  “Tarot is a perfectly viable tool for divination.”

     “Oh, I am well aware… that is my deck, you’re using.”

     “I have better luck with yours.”

     You laid out two cards in quick succession.  Five of wands and the four of cups.  Conflict and melancholy.

     Viv glanced over your shoulder and clicked her tongue.  “Those cards always were on the sharp side.”

     You groaned, “It’s not going well.” 

     She filled two cups with steaming tea, offering one to you as she sat across from you.  “I could have told you that.  Nothing ever goes well with the Winchesters.”

     “Not even with Sam?”  You asked, peering innocently over the rim of your teacup.

     “Samuel’s good nature is not enough to counter the chaotic nature of his brother.  He’s not safe, Y/N.”

     “He’s an FBI Agent and Sam is a sheriff.  Public safety is in their job description.”

     “Pretending ignorance doesn’t suit, so let’s not dance around the subject.  Its Dean who concerns me and should concern you.”  Viv stirred a spoonful of honey into her tea.  “I nearly lost you because of him and here you are… giving him an opportunity to do it all again, this time permanently.”

     You looked down, unable to face the directness of your grandmother’s gaze.  “It’s in the past, Gran.”

     “The past has a way of repeating itself.  Especially in this family.”

     “Not this time.”  You rubbed your thumb over the palm of your right hand, another childhood habit.  “The ties that bound us together were severed long ago.  Nothing is going to happen with Dean, I’ve made sure of it.”

     Remorse reflected in Viv’s dark eyes, “I know, my darling girl.  But that doesn’t make it easy.  For either of you.”

     “No, it doesn’t,” you agreed.  “But stopping this killer is more important that our comfort.  It’s the gift.  The call, I have to answer it.”

     Vivienne reached across the table and flipped over the third card, The Moon.  Intuition.

     “So, it seems.  Take the Obsidian, the weather is turning.”

     You maneuvered your old Jeep down the winding road that would deposit you in the middle of downtown Silverton.  Reliable, durable, and older than you, it had been a birthday present when you turned sixteen.  Black with a double pinstripe in neon purple.  You parked it in the garage when you left to seek your fortune, never knowing that you’d one day be right back where you started.  A Stevie Nicks cassette was still stuck in the ancient tape deck and seemed appropriate. 

     Gran’s Black Obsidian pendant was hidden under your shirt and sat over your heart.  The large piece of volcanic glass was a sword against negativity and dated all the way back to the Mayans.  Your clothes were black too, and close fitting.  Modern day armor, you donned when you needed to project strength you didn’t quite feel.  Fake it ‘til you make it.  Today certainly fell into that category. 

     You parked in front of the sheriff’s station and checked your reflection in the rearview before getting out.  The tousled pixie cut still did its job of accentuating your features while conveying confidence with a touch of sex appeal.  A small, petty part of you hoped Dean was struggling as much as you were.  Why should you be the only one squirming?  If looking good was the best revenge, then you were going to serve it hot!

     The wind that had been blustering all morning came to an abrupt stop as you reached for the front door of the station.  There was a smell of something burning, smoldering and sulfuric.  You felt eyes on you, boring into your back and when you slowly turned there was a huge, black dog.  Eerie and still as death, its eyes burned.  Drilling into yours with intensity that stole your breath.  Serpentine smoke slithered and swirled around its feet.  It threw its head back and let out the most horrific sound. 

     A howl that sounded like it came from the gates of Hell itself. 

     Then it was gone!  Jagged images like broken glass tore through your mind and snippets of conversation in strange voices.  The information was overwhelming and crashed over you in unrelenting waves until your head threatened to split apart! 

     All you wanted was for it to stop, but you couldn’t break free.  Was this what happened to your less fortunate ancestors with the sight?  Is this how they went mad?  Luckily, you were saved from the same grisly fate by two hands on your shoulders pulling you back into the present.

     “Y/N!  What the hell are you doing?!”

     The dog, the smoke, the hellish images all gone.  Only the jade green eyes and a sinful mouth pulled into a tight line remained.  Those hands shook you roughly and you blinked. 

     “Dean?”

     “Yeah, it’s me!  What were you thinking running into the middle of the street like that?  Old man Perkins nearly flattened you with his pickup!”

     Your brows drew together in confusion.  Then, glancing around, you understood.  You weren’t in front of the sheriff’s station anymore, you were three blocks over on Main Street.  Judging from the vehicles stopped in the intersection and shaken drivers, you’d walked right into oncoming traffic.

     “Oh.”

     “Oh, she says.”  Dean straightened to his full height and ran a hand over his mouth.  “Jesus, Pip... you nearly gave me a coronary.”

     You brought a hand to your head and looked around for any trace of your vision.  “Sorry, there was this… black dog.  And I heard…”

     Dean saw your hand tremble and he softened.  He was in the coffee shop when he saw you standing on the sidewalk staring off into nothing.  The vacant look on your face pricked at his instincts.  He was already heading for the door when you darted out into the street.  A hatchback missed you by inches and Dean reached you just in time to snatch you from the path of that ancient Chevy truck. 

     “Come on,” he said, wrapping his arm around your shoulders.  “Let’s get out of here.”

     Twenty minutes later you were seated on the sofa in Dean’s office.  A mug of hot tea in your hands helped you to finally stop shaking. You’d had countless premonitions in your life, they could be intense, but this was different.  Never had a vision displaced you in reality.  You weren’t sure what to make of it, but for the moment you were content to keep your own council on the matter.  The Winchesters wouldn’t understand it and if your Gran ever caught wind of it… well, best to not think about that. 

     The door opened and Sam walked in with Dean behind him.  They made an intimidating pair, and you sat up a bit straighter out in spite of yourself.

     “Hey, Y/N.  Feeling better?”  asked Sam, leaning against the desk.

     “Yes, I’m fine.  Sorry, I know you were worried.”

     The lanky giant scratched the back of his neck, “I just don’t have a lot of experience with psychics.  I wasn’t sure how to help.”

     You gave him a reassuring smile, “Sam, you’ve known me since kindergarten.  A quiet space and a little time usually fix just about anything.”

     “So, you remember it then?  Your vision?”

     It was Dean who asked.  Your gaze snapped to his in surprise.  He’d never been exactly at ease with your magic roots, even whispering about visions seemed to make him squirm.  It must be his unfailing professionalism that had him treating the very idea with a measure of respect.  Or desperation.

     “I remember, but the information is kind of all over the place.  Disjointed.”

     “Did you see him?”

     “No,” you replied with a frown.  “But I heard him.  I think he was talking on the phone… he said something about going home.”

     “Home where?” asked Sam.

     “I saw something in his hand, but I don’t know what it means.”  You walked over to the desk and scribbled the strange words down on a steno pad.  “His voice was smarmy, smooth like a Bond villain selling used cars.”

     “Dieu et mon Droit,” Dean muttered, reading over your shoulder.  

     “Latin.  Um… God and my right,” Sam supplied.  “It’s on the UK passport.”

     “Bond villain.”  Dean paced as he thought, “Going home to England.  So what?  He’s skipping the country?”

     “He won’t be gone long,” you replied.  You closed your eyes and repeated the words of the killer, “Back by the new moon, Mrs. Kennedy waits for no one.”

     Dean moved to a massive cork board that took up the entire south wall of his office.  It was covered with visual evidence.  Pictures of each of the victims, crime scenes, possible suspects.  Newspaper articles and a timeline of the murders.  Many of the papers had multiple pinholes in them, obviously moved around countless times as the Winchesters worked the case. 

     He tapped the calendar with his index finger, “That tracks.  So far, he’s dropped a body every two weeks, give or take.  It’s all part of his ritual.  The hearts, the body placement, the timing.”

     Sam joined him at the board, “Is there a Kennedy in the suspect pool?  The profile didn’t peg him as married, but that could always be wrong.”

     “I don’t think it is, this dude has the ultimate love/hate relationship with women.”

     The voices of Sam and Dean faded into the background as you studied the board.  You’d seen it countless times and it always seemed very random.  Aside from the fact that all the victims were women, they had no other qualities that linked them.  They were from different backgrounds, ethnicities, professions, and ages.  Beautiful, vibrant women.  Lives cut short in their prime, some even before their prime.  The frozen bride had been younger than you originally thought, only fifteen. 

     One more picture came into focus in your mind, and something clicked.  Your hand went to your churning stomach as your thoughts stumbled upon a disturbing realization. 

     “She’s a crone.”

     Sam turned to you, “You saw her?”

     You gave a nod, “Elderly, white hair, hunched back, nailed painted bright pink.”

     Dean arched an eyebrow, “Crone?  That’s not very P.C.”

     “It’s a technical term, not for her age but for what she represents.”  You wedged your way between the brothers and began marking out the calendar.  “She’s part of the Triple Goddess.”

     Always quick minded, Sam caught on first, “Maiden, Mother, Crone.  You might be on to something; it fits with the timing.”

     “The Triple Goddess represents the different stages of womanhood as they correspond with the phases of the moon.  The Maiden, or in this case virgin, is youthful and pure.  Represented by the waxing moon.”  You circled the estimated time and date of death for the body discovered at your party.

     “The Mother is the full moon.  Abundant and fertile.”  You added two circles that matched up with two of the victims.

     “The Crone,” you circled the date from Sierra Thompson’s murder.  “She’s the waning moon, wisdom and courage.”

     Dean’s face hardened as he considered the calendar, “With this kind of ritual killing, its more about when the kill is performed rather than the discovery of the bodies.  Especially since he’s harvesting their hearts.”

     “So, Mrs. Kennedy completes the cycle for this group of murders, what about the first group?  There’s only two of them.”  Sam speculated, “Maybe he didn’t get to it.”

     “That’s not his M.O.”  Dean muttered with a frown, “He’s planned this whole thing down to the last detail, he wouldn’t just miss one because he got busy.”

     “It’s called the Triple Goddess for a reason; you can’t have one without the others.”  Your knees went weak and leaned against the desk.  You felt drained as you did the day you went to the yellow house with Sam.  Your temple still ached from the vision.  Although you’d be hard pressed to admit it, this was taking a toll on you in more ways than one.

     “There is another Maiden, you just haven’t found her yet.”

     Dean insisted on driving you home.  And on picking you up the following day, since your Jeep was now stranded in town.  The man was relentless when his protectiveness flared up.

     “Your color’s not right,” he grumbled, helping you into the passenger’s seat.  “I’m not going to let you pass out behind the wheel and drive that hunk of crap off the side of the mountain.”

     “I thought you appreciated a classic vehicle.”

     “I do when they’re properly maintained.  When was the last time that deathtrap had an oil change?”

     “Um, senior year?” you guessed.

     “Pathetic.”  Dean turned down the narrow road leading to the Owen’s house.  “And your tires are practically bald, you’d be safer on a three-legged mule.”

     “Maybe you’d prefer I ride my broom.”

     “Can… can you do that?”

     A small smile tugging at your lips as you turned your attention to the passing scenery.

     He mulled it over for a minute, “Does it have a seatbelt?”

     A few minutes later, Dean escorted you to the front door, his hand on the small of your back.  You weren’t sure if the slight contact was meant to reassure you or him, either way it was welcome. 

     “Come in,” you said, stepping over the threshold.  “I’ll go grab those books I was telling you about.”

     Dean watched you disappear down the hallway, your stride quick as you navigated your family home.  It had been years since he’d stepped foot in the Owen’s house, and it hadn’t changed a day.  Still a fascinating mix of Victorian apothecary and Gothic romance.  He’d grown up hearing all kinds of rumors about the place.  Everything from ghostly apparitions appearing on the widow’s walk to the untimely deaths of every man who dared pursue an Owen’s woman.  He never put any stock in it.  To him, your house was just like you.  Hauntingly beautiful, utterly warm, and a complete mystery. 

     Growing bolder, he ventured into the Great Room.  Still a bit too fancy for his tastes, with its velvet settees and fringed curtains, but it smelled the same.  Like jasmine and incense.  There were countless pictures in heavy silver frames on every surface.  Some in black and white, obviously family heirlooms.  Others were more recent.  Some of Vivienne Owens in her youth; wearing a mini skirt and Gogo boots.  Grinning as she stood proudly next to the Compendium, a sold sign under her arm.   Your mother, a fragile beauty who died when you were six. 

     Dean came to the collection on the fireplace and stopped.  His own face stared back at him.  He pulled the picture down from its perch and muttered a curse.

     “Son of a bitch.”

     It was the night of your senior prom.  Sammy was supposed to be your date, but he was laid up with the flu.  Dean was back for a few days before he left again to start a new job in Denver.  He never could deny his little brother anything, so he showed up at your house wearing one of his Dad’s old suits and a grin. 

     “Thinking of better days?”

     Startled out of his reminiscing, he quickly turned to you.  “Ah, yeah.  Well, no…I just haven’t seen this in a long time.”

     You set down your stack of books on a small table as you took the frame from his hands.  Your warm fingers brushed his and a small zap passed between the two of you.  If you noticed it, you didn’t mention it.  Dean watched the light come to your eyes as you gazed at the picture and smiled.  You were standing close enough for him to detect your perfume.  You always seemed to smell like the season, today it was heady and warm.  Like clove studded oranges with a touch of amber.

     “I really loved that dress.  Gran had it up in the shop for ages, I must have tried it on a dozen times.”

     “It was beautiful,” Dean agreed, his voice going a bit rough.  “You were beautiful.  Still are.”

     You never were sure what to say when a man complimented you.  Somehow, hearing them express their attraction made you automatically shut down.  Not with Dean.  You wanted him to go on and on and on.  In that deep, honeyed whiskey voice that warmed you to the core.

     This was a disaster.

     “Dean…”

     “I’m surprised you held on to it, after everything that happened.  How things went down… I figure you’d burn it or use it for target practice.”

     You placed the frame back in its place of honor on the mantle.  “The bad things that happen don’t erase the good things.  I needed reminding of that for a long time.  This was a good day, a great day.  So much was lost, it didn’t seem fair to lose that too.”

     Dean looked down, his mouth pulling into a line.  “Yeah.”

     “There was something else,” you said after a beat.  “About that vision today.  There was a black dog.”

     “I take it you’re not talking about a Labrador.”

     “It pops up in all kinds of lore, usually interpreted as a death omen but this one was more specific than ones I’ve read about.  I wasn’t sure at first, but now… I think it was a Hellhound.”

     Dean’s eyebrows shot up then came down as he realized that you were serious.  “A Hellhound?  That’s a real thing?”

     “It wasn’t just a warning; it was a threat.”  Your big, brown eyes betrayed you.  You were afraid for him.  “Dean, please just… just be careful.  This guy is playing games with you now, but that’s just the prelude.  He wants you dead.”

     He drew you into his arms and held you tightly.  His warm hand cupped the nape of your neck while his chin came to rest on the top of your head.  You wrapped your arms around his torso and buried your face in his chest.  You fit together perfectly and for one brief moment, everything was right with the world.

     “It’s gonna be alright, Sweetheart.”  He ran his hand up and down your back, comforting you, “We are going to make it through this with flying colors, you’ll see.”

     “How do you know?”

     “Well, on top of my years of experience in the field and the fact that my brother the boy genius is on the case, I’ve got this kick-ass witch helping me.”

     “Really?  Anyone I know?”  You sassed.

     “Maybe… she’s this pretty, little redhead with dangerous curves and big brown eyes.  The kind of eyes a man can get lost in.  And at the same time, he’s found.  Cause when she looks at you, it’s like you’re being seen for the first time.  Because she knows you, all the way down to your bones.  And she never turns away from what she sees, even though she should.”

     Your eyes widened at his words, then shuttered closed as he ghosted his fingers over your jawline.  A tiny electric current raced along your skin, growing stronger as he maintained contact.  You were certain that if he continued, you’d literally light up like a Christmas tree! 

     He curled a finger under your chin and ran his thumb over your bottom lip, causing your face to tip up to his.  Consenting to his silent request.  His lips were mere inches from yours when the grandfather clock sounded from deep within the house.  Six chimes of the bell noted the hour and broke the spell. 

     Dean released you, his hands fisted at his sides, as if he really had to work not to reach for you again. 

     “I better get going,” he said, picking up the books as you blinked up at him.  “I’m really going to be in trouble if Viv catches me.”

     You took a steadying breath, trying to regain your composure.  “The big, bad FBI guy isn’t scared of a little old lady like my Gran, is he?

     “Hell, yes he is!  Last time I was here she threatened to turn me into something with four legs and a tail.”

     You had to laugh at that, “Yeah, I remember.  Still, she wouldn’t actually go through with it… I don’t think.”

     “Agree to disagree, Sweetheart.”

     “In that case, here,” you unhooked the silver chain around your neck and fixed it around Dean’s instead.  The pendant fell to rest over his heart.  “Obsidian, for protection.”

     He tucked it under his shirt then quickly kissed your forehead and took off towards the door.

     “I’ll be by at eight a.m. to pick you up, okay?”

     “Sure,” you replied, following him to the foyer.

     The wind blew in when he pulled the door open.  Bitter.  Swirling with fallen leaves and melancholic nostalgia. 

     You wrapped your arms around yourself in an effort to ward off the chill.  And the regret as you watched Dean Winchester walk out the door, again.

     “Oh, and Y/N?”

     “Hmm?”

     The corner of his mouth lifted into not quite a smile, but his eyes carried kindness.  “Lock up behind me.” TAGLIST @deans-baby-momma @muchamusedaboutnothing @peterpangirl21 @ficbreaks @teresa-67 @sacriceria @verytoadpapersoul @heartbreak-of-a-marauder @savspersonalproperty @deanwanddamons @jenwinchester40 @perpetualabsuridty @starryeyeseunbyul @sexyvixen7 @katsbratsupernaturalwhore @agirlwithdemonblood @jerkbitchidjitassbutt @imthedoctorlove @roonyxx @smellingofpoetry @deanwinchesterswitch @thinkinghardhardlythinking @pink-sparkly-witch @barewithme02 @deadlynightshadeindustries @jc-winchester @mrswhozeewhatsis  @kinderousmaster @lyarr24 @aphorism-001 @onlinecemetery @allonsy-yesiwill @myeagletoadmaker @panicking-outside-the-disco @haylie-spnfam4ever @lauraashley93 @foxyjwls007 @bluedragonflylady @foxyjwls007

[expecto-kedavra]

A Basis for Blackmail

[idoart]

OOC

Finaly got a few characters for the little murder drones/fnaf crossover thing I'm doing! So here they are! Little TW though! The last two characters might be a bit disturbing. First off we have the main three drones:

Stephanie:

Stephanie is a lot like Bonnie, meaning she the first to move and go towards the security office. She has a really bubbly and sweet personality during the day and can be pretty aggressive during the night.

Alec:

Alec is like Freddy, meaning he doesn't move a whole lot. He absolutely HATES the cameras and being looked at. He'll make a camera or two go down for a while, rendering them useless, but it doesn't last very long. He's one of the fan favorites, and probably one of the most least aggressive drones.

Mia:

Mia is a lot like foxy, she runs down the hallway towards the security office. However she can run down either hallway. The security guard can tell which door she's running towards by the sound of her laughing and footsteps. She's the lead singer of the main three and a fan favorite!

Tw: the next character/images include things like blood and gore!

Percy Jenson:

Percy was the creature of the drones at the location(the pizzeria or whatever the location will be called, haven't thought of a name yet) and one of the chilren of "JCJENSON IN SPAAAAAACE"'s founder. He was a great guy who loved his job and loved the drones! And the drones loved him as well. However he 'went missing' around June 21st, 3060. What really happened was his older brother, Malic Jenson, pushed him into an old incinerator used for burning scrap metal and parts. His vengeful spirit roams the halls of the pizzeria/location. He doesn't do much besides watch from the shadows, being seen hiding in the dark areas through the cameras or even in the security office, though he doesn't appose any threat.

Valerie:

Valerie was once a server at the pizzeria/location, she would bring cakes and other food to customers tables. After an accident she was left in the parts and service room until she could be repaired. However she decided to escape through the vents. She would go after the security guard for reasons I will state later on. The security guard would have to shine his flashlight in her face when she entered the security office's vent, which would overload her damaged sensors and cause her to back off for a while.

Current story so far:

The location was opened on May 19th, 3059 and was instantly popular. Percy's father, the founder of "JCJENSON IN SPAAAAAACE", funded the project and helped build the location and drones. Percy Jenson took care of the place with love and care until he was reported missing on June 21st, 3060. After he died his older brother, Malic Jenson, tried to take over the business but their father wouldn't let him. The location was left under the care of the company and continues to be popular on earth to this day. The drones and other staff were devastated after Percy's death. The main three drone(Alec, Mia, and Stephenie) took the news much harder than the rest and became vengeful. It didn't take them long to figure out what Malic Jenson had done and become vengeful towards him. Nearly 11 years later Malics son, and Percy's nephew(who I haven't thought of a name yet), returned to the location in hope to find out what happened to his uncle Percy. He got the job of "nighttime security guard" in hopes to learn more information. Unfortunately for him, the vengeful and angry drones hadn't seen him since he was 10 years old(how old he was when Percy went missing) and mistook him for his father, who he looked a lot like. The drones started to try and attack him during the night, wanting revenge for their creator and friend.

The reason Valeria goes after the security guard(aka Malics son) is because Malic caused the accident that left her legless and damaged. She along with the other drones would try and attack and kill the security guard for revenge. Percy's spirit simply watched from the shadows. He didn't want his nephew to come to harm, but he figured he could try and protect him until he could get to the real culprit, Malic, his older brother and the one who murdered him.

Percy's spirit often talks to the drones, giving them comfort and reminding them he's still there. The drones can sometimes see him, thought its very rare, but he is always staying nearby them at all times. He's like a father figure to them in a strange and weird way?

Hope you guys like the story so far! I'll make more drones and characters eventually, and maybe even a blog for this little crossover itself!

[soldieryaoi]

I already love nick! Can you throw few facts abt him?🥺

HI HELLO!!!! IM SO HAPPY YOU LIKE HIM!!! here are a few facts of varying magnitude about him^^ 1. he can't tolerate bad smells, so the entirety of Prehevil is an unpleasant experience for him, but he draws the line at the shit pit and will refuse to enter 2. the scars on his neck are from shrapnel when he was caught in an explosion early on in his service 3. he enlisted as a kid, lying about his age to be accepted 4. his hearing recovered and he has better hearing than others 5. he brings a pack of cards and a book to read on the train - they're useless items, just to keep him or others occupied 6. he's very aware of social cues! ...but chooses to ignore them as he enjoys teasing people to the point of making them sliiiightly uncomfortable 7. he talks a lot. too much for some 8. he's a sadist & extroverted; he likes being around and talking to people, including commanding them 9. he's good at cooking! not as good as henryk, but he's hosted several dinner parties and people always clear their plates 10. he's got a taste for the finer things in life 11. his favourite cocktail is the old fashioned 12. he's responsible for the arrests and torture of several dozen Bremen and Eastern Union officers 13. he's a good singer, but terrible at any and all instruments 14. I've indirectly hinted at it several times but incase it wasn't clear, he's trans! 15. he can't really hide his emotions around people he dislikes - he tries his best he really does! but his face reveals all... 16. he's a silly lil guy

[mortavita]

planned obsolescence

I just reblogged a post about sewing machines and I have feelings that aren’t appropriate to add to the post.

Because I have no beef with what anyone is saying that post. All good points in my book.

I just have such mixed feelings when talking about how great old tech is and how all new tech is made to be terribly breakable and almost impossible to repair. I mean, I agree. I tried to send a set of Bose headphones to be repaired, and they just gave me a new pair??? There are no repair shops in my area that could even fix them, it’s insane. I have a sewing machine from 1970 that still runs great as long as I keep an eye on my tension and a machine from the early 2000s in my office just loves to eat needles and burn out for no reason. 

But...

There is a reason for some stuff to be made more breakable and its not just corporate greed. Modern sewing machines are just a fuck ton more complicated than a treadle singer because it does more stuff. Most of it is useless, but it can also do zigzag stitches, serge, embroider, and more. To keep costs down, everything is made a lightly and plastic as possible which means that it is going to break. 

I think the better example is cars. 

You used to be able to fix your car yourself, bang out dents in your steel fender and change out the engine with minimal hassle. Now with modern cars you need a software engineering degree to replace the stereo. Well, that’s because cars have automatic breaking sensors, wifi, and built in navigation. Does anyone’s car really need those things? probably not. But the reason cars crumple in a crash is not to make you spend money getting a pro to repair it, its to keep you alive enough to spend money getting it repaired. If you are in a chevy Belair from the 50′s, you are going to die in a moderately high speed accident. You could be decapitated by your own windshield until 1937. 

Things are made to be used and discarded because it is economically advantageous to do so. Tools and the machines of our lives should be made tougher and easily repairable across the board. And. The tools of today are made to do different things than the tools of that past, which also makes them more vulnerable to falling apart because it isn’t a case of push the pedal with your foot to stitch forward or back, the system is so much more complicated and there is an inevitable breakage involved in making something that does practically everything.

[seasurfacefullofclouds1]

Ok i wanna add my thoughts ! Pls excuse my English if it’s not great and it’s very late.

To an extent I agree w the person named sterre and I think Louis needs to step up his game when it comes to the business aspects of his career. He hires his team, wether there’s constraints or not I do think there’s no possible excuse for why Simon jones and Matt vines are still around. Unless they are blackmailing him (I think that’s unlikely😭), why would he keep useless ppl around? Maybe it’s not that severe but what else could it be. Bc it’s comfortable ? Girl get out of your comfort zone and give those two their 2 week notice. I know he would prob feel bad doing it but like - THEY LITERALLY SUCK. Hire younger or smarter or more innovative people. I know he doesn’t have many celeb friends but everyone who meets him loves him so there’s no way that he couldn’t find a new decent team who know what they’re doing. It’s truly not that hard for a already rich charismatic white dude who’s about to drop a banger of an album.

At the same time though , I don’t think we need to hold Louis responsible for any business aspects. He played a part of that in 1d to an extent so I think he’s capable but the thing is… he’s an ARTIST. He should spend his time focusing on his art. On his fanbase, on his life, on the things he actually enjoys. He also has a private life and wether u believe any of it or not idc but he travels a lot and clearly has ppl to take care of so there’s that. I don’t rlly think u can make art properly and worry abt all the marketing and fandom politics AND have a life like it just wouldn’t work unless you’re Superman, or a woman.

In general his team being useless is not HIS fault, they should be the ones taking care of everything else that isn’t part of his job. Bc there are only 24 hours in a day and as someone in a creative field I tell u that we don’t work the same as ppl w an office job and schedule do. It’s a whole other world, and we need ppl who work in other more strategic fields to help us. But I do think it’s his fault for almost like- rewarding people who at the end of the day, are working against him. It’s confusing bc he does and says such smart things but in the business aspect - I don’t think he’s being smart at all. He says he’s unorganized so maybe it just slips his mind. He even forgets some release dates so I truly think he’s completely hands off when it comes to business. Which is idiot behavior 101 if that’s the case but like maybe it’s just too stressful so he stays away from keeping up w his team’s endeavors. He’s not on anyones ass clearly or else they would do better.

I think after having so much behind the scenes responsibilities in 1d (and let’s be real emotional responsibilities bc like the others used to say, he always made sure the boys were alright, as much as he could) he’s kinda just done thinking abt anything other than the creative aspects of his craft and tbh, he’s also still rebuilding his confidence. That was such a big thing this year bc you can’t be a singer if you’re insecure about performing. We can’t expect everything from a man who’s clearly just trying to enjoy life while doing what he loves and hoping ppl will accept it. But if he wants to be taken seriously and if he wants to succeed he can’t just stay in his comfort zone and watch everyone run around like chickens with their heads cut off. Helene or someone there w a brain needs to tell him that you don’t get shit done in your comfort zone while still wondering wether ppl see u as a soloist or not. Or else it just leads me to believe he truly doesn’t want this as much as he implies every time he’s asked. It makes me think he’s a lil too comfortable w where he is or just too scared to take action. So unless Simon jones is forcing Louis to keep him around by blackmailing him w his nudes or something - Louis pls change everything about your employees and go tell your label to act like they REALLY want that uk top 40

I think Simon Jones is a negative force in Louis’ life and I frankly cannot believe he’s still here after Louis has left Sony.

But I think Matt Vines is organized and patient, and, working in an environment heavily weighted against Louis, he has achieved some good things. There are lots to criticize Matt about, but he is a good counterbalance to Louis’ bursts of ideas and impulsivity. But he is failing in one major aspect, which is to promote Louis as a significant solo artist.

[shop-korea]

MET - HIM - NOW - DECEASED - RICO J PUNO

LAST - NAME - ‘PUNO’ - MEANS - TREE

ANOTHER - GREAT - SINGER - WHO - I - MET 2

VICTOR WOOD - LAST - NAME - FR - TREE YES

WEDNESDAY - SUSHI - DAY - $5 - AT - PUBLIX

QUITE - EARLY - MY - FAVORITE - ALREADY

THERE - 911 - 9TH ST - PUBLIX - AND WHEN

THEY - NOTICE - YOUR - FAVORITE - CAN B

INCLUDED - WITH - THEIR - $5 - SUSHI DAY

MAIN - LIBRARY - HACKER (s) - THERE - IN

FUTURE - U - WILL - KNOW - HIM - AS YOUR

INVISIBLE - SEARCHER - WILL - SHOW - HIM

AND - WHERE - HE - IS - WILL - B - GIVEN AT

ONCE - 2 - OUR - TOKYO - MALE SCIENTISTS

RFID - BLOCKING - SCANNERS - FR - THEFTS

AMEX - GOLD - $200,000

GONE - LESS - THAN - 1 SECOND

CHECKING - DEBIT - $5 MILLION - GONE

PASSPORT - INFO - EVEN - CLOSED - AS

THEY - HAVE - SPECIAL - X RAY - SCAN 2

GET - INSIDE - SO - THEY - CAN - HAVE ID

WITH - WHAT - THEY - NEED - LATER - ON

MAIN - LIBRARY - LIKE - CITIBANK - CAFE

PUBLIC - PLACES - HACKERS - CAN - YES

DESTROY - YOUR - NEW - LAPTOPS - AND

THEY’RE - TRYING - 2 - DESTROY - ANIME

JAPANESE - ANIMATION - FREE - TABLET

THAT - I - GOT - FREE - MANNED - ALSO

BY - T - MOBILE - USUALLY - NOT - FREE

$2 - EACH - MONTH - GIVEN - 2 - ME YES

FREE - AT - PARKING - LOT - WHERE - ME

GOES - THURSDAY - FRIDAY

SW 2 ST - AND - SW 2 AV

SO - HERE - AT - BOX VAULT - MIAMI

SELF - STORAGE

123 SW NORTH RIVER DR

MIAMI FL 33136

FORGOT - ZIP CODE - BY - MEMORY

GOT - BACK - KEYBOARD - HERE - INSIDE

MY - STORAGE - UNIT - 24 HRS - ACCESS

6TH - FLOOR

NEAREST - SW 2 ST - WHERE - MY - TENT

$799.99 - GOT - BLK - FRIDAY - DEAL ON A

TUESDAY - OVER - $23 - ADD - 7% - TAX

SO - 10 DAY - GRACE - PERIOD

JASMINE - SAID - ENDS - 26TH

ALLEN - SAID - ENDS - 25TH - CHRISTMAS

CHINA’s - ‘THE - WITNESS’ - HOW - CHINA

BOYS - AND - GIRLS - SAID - ABOUT EXTRA

COLLEGE - GIRL - AGE 21 - SHE - ALSO YES

A - BAD - EXTRA - FEMALE - LEAD - BEIJING

FIRED - POLICE - OFFICER - 4 - BEING BLIND

NO - MONEY - IF - ORPHAN

TRAUMATIC - BLINDNESS - OVER - 1 YEAR

HER - HEAD - HIT - HARD - ASPHALT ROAD

SO - FIRED - USELESS - 2 - BEIJING - CHINA

CHINA - OFFERS - FREE - TAXI - 2 - BLIND

BUT - DOESN’T - CHECK - IF - BIRTHDAY IS

RIGHT - 2 - THE - BLIND - AS - MALE - NO

HIDDEN - CAMERA - ON - THEIR - CLOTHES

NOT - SEEN - BY - HUMAN - EYES - AS 2 WHY

HE - WANTS - 2 B - DRIVER - OF - TAXIS - FOR

BLIND - 2 - STEAL - 2 - KILL - 2 - DESTROY

AS - HE - HIT - BY - CAR - ANOTHER - YES

FEMALE - COLLEGE - STUDENT - PUT - IN

BACK - OF - TRUNK - WHEN - SHE - WOKE

UP - SLICED - MANY - PLACES - THEN - HE

STABBED - HER - RIGHT - PLACES - WITH

ANOTHER - KNIFE - CONTINUED - 2 - USE

SURGEONS - TOOL - 2 - SLICE - MORE AS

HE - WENT - ALL - THE - WAY - THEN - THE

HEART - STABBED - HER - WENT - ALL THE

WAY - EVEN - MORE - THEN - HE - WITH

SURGEON’s - TOOLS - GETS - BLADDER

AND - KIDNEY - FEDEX - $9,000 - EACH

BY - AMERICANS - ADDITIONAL - INCOME

4 - TAXI - DRIVERS - 4 - BLIND - DOESN’T

PAY - WELL - CHINESE - BOYS - GIRLS &

CHINESE - MOMS - CALLED - HER - NOT

GREAT - ACTRESS - THESE-  WOMEN

DON’T - KNOW - HOW - 2 B - BLIND

KOREAN - GIRLS - WHY - THESE - YES

COMMENTS - BIBLE - ALWAYS

‘BLESSED - THE - NATION - WHOSE GOD

IS - THE - INVISIBLE - GOD - OF - ISRAEL’

REVISED - RUSSIAN - FEDERATION - YES

SAME - INTERVIEW - MALES - THAN - HAI

OLD - WOMEN - OR - WOMEN - 4 - THEY

HAVE - NO - GOD - NO - RELIGION - AT

RUSSIAN - FEDERATION - ‘WHAT - YES

ASSOCIATION - HAS - LIGHT - WITH RU

DARKNESS’ - SOUTH KOREA - ALSO

HAS - NO - RELIGION - CHRISTMAS

IS - USA - SANTA CLAUS - CHIMNEYS

REINDEERS - ALL - MALES - PEOPLE

MRS SANTA CLAUS

NOELLE CLAUS - 2ND BORN

NICHOLAS - JR - 1ST - BORN

FILM - ‘NOELLE’ - STAR - OF - FILM

‘PITCH - PERFECT’ - FORGOT - NAME

REPRESENTED - THE - HILTON - TV

ADS - SO - MY - LAPTOP - KEYBOARD

WORKING - OUTSIDE - MAIN LIBRARY

ALSO - GOVERNMENT CENTER PARK

HAS - HACKERS - ALSO - I - WENT - AT

ONCE - 2 - MAIN - LIBRARY - THAT DAY

WAS - FINE - AT - ONCE

SO - MAIN - LIBRARY - HACKERS THUS

ADDED - APP - TEXT NOW

THAT’s - THE - TEL NO - 2 - HAVE

2 - MAKE - US - FEEL - BETTER 2

EASY - 2 - CANCEL - UNINSTALL - APP

SOLUTION - SINCE - NO - TEL - 2 USE

WITH - SMARTPHONE - WITH - SIM YES

CARD - GOOGLE - FREE - TEL SERVICE

HAD - A - HARD - TIME - CONNECTING

WITH - TEXT - NOW - BUT - SINCE - ITS

ALREADY - CONNECTED - BY - LAPTOP

USING - BLUETOOTH - EARPLUGS - TO

MAKE - CALL - AND - IF - IT - DOESN’T

WORK - HAVE - 2 - BUY - NEW CLASSIC

FLIP - PHONE - FR - WALMART - AGAIN

4 - IT - DIED - SO - CAN’T - USE - THUS

IF - GOOGLE - TEL - BY - LAPTOP DOES

NOT - WORK - SAFELINK - NEED 2 BUY

MOBILE - ASKING - SOMEONE - IF I CAN

USE - THEIR - TELEPHONE - 2 ACTIVATE

MY - MOBILE - TEL - WITH - SAFELINK 2

WE - WILL - SEE - WHAT - 2 - DO - BUT

OUTSIDE - MAIN - LIBRARY - MY - YES

KEYBOARD - WORKS - AGAIN

JESUS - IS  LORD - GETTING

FREE - FOOD - NEAR - ME AT

SAME - STREET - AT - 7:30P - SOON

GROSS - CUP - OF - NOODLES YES

CHICKEN - BOILED - WATER - ALWAYS

FALLING - ON - MY - L HAND - BUT THE

BAGS - OF - GROSS - BALONEY

SANDWICHES - BUT - DORITOS

2 BAGS - AND - COOKIES - FOR

ONLY - OVER - $4 - AT - MY - CHECKING

FREE - FIFTH - THIRD - BANK

$76 - FOOD - STAMPS - 22ND

OVER - $155 BILLION - INTEREST

BEARING - BUT - I - FORGOT - MY

BANK’s - OWNERS - AND - NAME

COMES - WITH - LEAVING - OUR

MAKATI - CITY - I - WAS - REALLY

BORN - BUT - JESUS - LEFT - THE

HEAVENS - 2 - RESCUE - HOUSE

ROBERT FROST

POEM - ‘ROAD - NEVER - TRAVELED’

REVISED

2 - ROADS - POINTING - DIFFERENT

DIRECTIONS - JUST - STARED - YES

AT - BOTH - TOOK - THE - ROAD LESS

TRAVELED - NOW - AN - ADULT - AGE

59 - REALLY - 1 YEAR - OLDER - THAN

USA - KNOWS - THEY - WILL - NEVER

CARE - ABOUT - ANYONE - BUT THEIR

PEOPLE - THEIR - RACE THEIR LOOKS

TOOK - THE - ROAD - LESS TRAVELED

AND - IT - MADE ALL THE DIFFERENCE’

[whattheabcxyz]

2023-11-29

Singapore

4-room Pinnacle@Duxton flat sold for S$1.41m, setting record @ S$1,409 psf

How this "stateless" man with no citizenship ended up permanently stationed here in our country selling tissue paper to make ends meet is a mystery - he's even being given "$410 a month in financial assistance"

HDB resident questions if neighbour's "cosy corner" in common area is allowed

Heavy afternoon downpour causes flash floods in Jurong West

想不到这里的报贩还有工作做！ - I am shocked people here continue to buy physical copies of our $hitty newspapers

Jail for former loan shark who fled country in 2018 after jumping bail

Coroner rules that 15-year-old girl killed her 84-year-old grandfather in Bukit Batok flat before committing suicide - This case sounds very, very strange, especially considering that the girl's mother, who found the murdered man's body, washed the bloody knife that she found next to it before calling her husband & not the police!!! Shouldn't she be charged with evidence tampering?!

Maintenance worker falls into 4m-deep sprinkler pump room - he was rescued & taken to hospital

Health

Paralysed man can walk again after spinal implant

Walking faster lowers your risk of Type 2 diabetes, British research says

Singapore: Lower-income patients to get higher subsidies for surgical implants on subsidy list

25-year-old woman with ovarian cancer reveals symptoms dismissed by doctors

37-year-old Malaysian singer suddenly dies while filming - ~40 min after saying she felt unwell, she was dead; autopsy pending

Business

Simple but profitable businesses that are raking in the $$$

Unity Software to cut 265 jobs & shut Singapore office - offices in 13 other locations will be shut down too

Tiger Beer’s parent company retrenches workers in restructuring exercise

Environment

^ More about Singapore's "Long Island" project to counter rising sea levels

Nature

Spider lays eggs in man's toe while he was on cruise - this is so completely gross it's surreal

Society

26-year-old man arrested for stripping nude on Disneyland's "It's A Small World" ride - he was under the influence of drugs (as usual) 🙄

Gossip

Local celebs (including washed-up ones) take to doing sales livestreams to make $$$ - this is why education is so important: so you can avoid being a useless bum like this bunch

Travel

2-hr queue just to get into Tokyo Disneyland - I visited back in the early 1980s & don't remember there being a crowd, but then again, the world was much less populated back then, & fewer people could afford to travel because there were no budget airlines!

Changi Airport traffic crosses 90% of pre-pandemic levels for 1st time, fuelled by South Korea travel

[atlaspbody]

Hogwarts Legacy: "Minding Your Own Business" Quest I'm going to talk about the Hogwarts Legacy quest "Minding Your Own Business" and fair warning, there will be some SPOILERS. So, if you still haven't played that quest yet, you might want to stop reading now. I just played that quest for the first time now because, I only just got the PS4 version. I had been avoiding any spoilers, so I went into it completely blind. And, in the words of Sebastian, "I don't know what I was expecting, but it certainly wasn't THAT!". I had NO idea that it was essentially a Hogwarts Legacy, horror game, that is legitimately creepy AF, complete with jump scares, multiple boss fights, puzzles, and actual surprises that literally, throw you for a loop, especially at the end. (If you know, you know.) It also cemented my utter disdain for that useless, waste of space, Officer Singer, who at this point, should just be turning her paychecks over to the MC, for constantly having to do HER job. Is that just me? LOL!! Anyway, while I was caught completely off guard by it, I thoroughly enjoyed it, nonetheless. I would love to see what others thought about that quest too. So, please feel free to comment, if you feel so inclined. :)