#what’s his connection with the book? it’s probably around for a while but how did it take him so long to even acquire a single page?

[sableeira]

kinda cringe fail to have the same goal for a few hundred years and never achieving it. Fyodor was probably around even before the Book even existed and he never found a way to destroy abilities? Truly a skill issue

[libraryofgage]

Librarian Steve :)

Was talking to a friend about people (specifically this one kid that gives such Dustin energy hfjdks) I meet at work (I'm a librarian) and that evolved into this plot bunny so:

Librarian Steve, rock star Eddie, and the 5 times Steve pretends he doesn't know who Eddie is while they flirt + 1 time Steve reveals he knew about Eddie's rock star status the whole time

There is also, definitely, at some point, going to be a second part where the kids keep just barely missing Eddie and refuse to believe Steve is actually dating anyone but especially not Eddie Munson of all people

As always, if you see any typos, no you didn't

One

Steve stares at the man on the other side of the circulation desk. He's wearing a Metallica shirt, ripped jeans, a guitar pick necklace, clunky rings on each finger, and an expression that says he's bracing himself for something painful.

Here's the thing: Steve knows who Eddie Munson is. It's hard to listen to alternative rock or punk or any other genre like that and not know Eddie Munson. It's hard to be a librarian who works primarily with kids in middle school and high school, all going through that painful, angsty phase that they express through music, and not know Eddie Munson.

So, yeah, Steve takes one look at the admittedly (incredibly) attractive guy and immediately knows he's Eddie Munson. Like, of Corroded Coffin fame. Of Rock n Roll Hall of Fame fame. Of platinum-level album sales fame. Of--okay, his point has probably been made.

Anyway, yeah, Steve knows this is Eddie Munson, and while he'd love to say he's a fan and smile at Eddie and maybe ask for an autograph, Steve also grew up as a Small Town Rich Kid. So he knows that look on Eddie's face, the one that says he's bracing himself for someone to start fawning over him and potentially ask for uncomfortable favors or his number or any other request that's definitely crossing the line into invasive.

Steve easily makes the decision to pretend he doesn't recognize Eddie. So, he puts on his customer service smile and says, "Hello, how can I help you?"

The sheer relief in Eddie's eyes is more than enough to tell Steve he made the right choice. "Right, uh, this is my first time here," Eddie says, shifting slightly before placing his hands on the counter and drumming his fingers.

"Oh, congratulations," Steve says, his tone and smile becoming more genuine. "Did you come here to print something?"

Eddie shakes his head, reaches into his pocket, and pulls out a library card. "My friend has, like, a...hold? Yeah, a hold on something and asked me to pick it up," he explains.

Steve nods once and takes the card when Eddie offers it. He scans it and watches the computer load for a few seconds before opening an account window for someone named Asher Katz. "Since you aren't the cardholder," Steve says, navigating to the "Additional Information" tab in the account, "I'll need you to tell me the four-digit pin or code word connected to the account."

He clearly wasn't expecting that requirement, and Eddie flounders for a moment. "Is that a requirement?" he asks.

With an apologetic smile, Steve nods. "Yeah," he says, stretching out the word as he tries to think. "Oh, you could also call him and have him tell me the pin. Then I could confirm that it's okay for you to check out materials on his behalf."

"This is a lot of hoops for a book," Eddie says, frowning slightly as he takes out his phone.

"We have to make sure people's materials are secure. Also, we have to keep track of what people check out for the library's stats report at the end of each quarter."

Eddie looks like he understands about half of that, and Steve once again flashes an apologetic smile. After a few taps on the screen, Eddie glances around the library, ensuring it's empty, before putting the phone on speaker. The moment it picks up, and before Asher can speak, Eddie says, "Hey, man, I'm at the library. Can you tell, uh--" Eddie looks up to check Steve's nametag "--Steve what your pin is so I can check that book out."

A few seconds pass before Steve hears a sigh on the other end of the phone. "1234," Asher says.

"Seriously?" Eddie asks.

Steve glances at the account page, confirms the pin, and nods. "Could you also provide me with your code word?"

"Password."

"Dude!" Eddie says, staring at the phone like he's once again being reminded that his friend is a dumbass.

Steve checks the account again and nods once more. "Great, thank you. Could you confirm that...," Steve trails off, looking at Eddie expectantly.

Eddie blinks like he forgot Steve didn't know who he was and hesitates before clearing his throat and quietly saying, "Eddie."

"Thanks," Steve says, flashing another smile before looking at the phone and continuing, "Can you confirm that Eddie here is allowed to check out holds on your behalf?"

"Uh, yeah, that's fine, man."

"Great, thank you," Steve says, checking the card number once more before heading to the hold shelf behind the desk. He crouches and starts scanning stickers on the spines for Asher's last name and the last four digits of his number. Behind him, he hears Eddie say goodbye, his voice sounding a little strained for reasons Steve can't really figure out at the moment.

He finds the right book after a few moments and pulls it off the shelf. "Here it is," he says, walking over to the desk and pulling up the check-out window on his computer. He scans the library card once more, carefully pulls the sticker off the spine, and scans the book.

"It's due in two weeks, but if your friend needs more time, he can just give the library a call," Steve explains, passing the book and card back to Eddie with a smile. "Was there anything else I could do for you?"

Eddie just stares at him for a few seconds, his cheeks looking a little pinker than before, and Steve wonders if the building's A/C somehow gave up on life. Again. But he can hear it running so that definitely isn't it. "Uh, nope, that's it," Eddie says, gripping the book tightly in his hands, his rings pressing into the cover. "Thanks, Steve, appreciate it."

"Of course, man. Have a good day," Steve says with a genuine smile and wave as Eddie heads toward the door.

With a slightly awkward wave back, Eddie walks out the door, glancing back over his shoulder once before the door completely shuts. Once the library is empty again, Steve hears the door to the backroom open, and Robin practically slides up to the counter, leaning onto it next to him.

"Was that?" she asks. Steve instantly translates the question in his head: Was that Eddie fucking Munson?

"Yep."

"And did you?"

And did you just pretend you didn't know him?

"Yep."

"Did he?"

Did he catch on?

"Nope."

"Do you think?"

Do you think he'll be back?

Steve shrugs, glancing over at her. "Don't know," he says, pausing for a moment before adding, "He's hotter in person."

Robin barks out a laugh. "Maybe you'll actually get to flirt next time," she says, and Steve grins at her, kind of hoping she's right.

Two

Eddie returns exactly two weeks later, and Steve is lucky enough to once again be working a desk shift when he walks through the door. He's wearing a Nine Inch Nails shirt this time, and his hair is pulled back into a messy bun with strands escaping to frame his face. He goes up to the counter, focused on Steve and completely ignoring Robin sitting at another computer, and sets the book down. "I wanna return this. And get a library card for myself," he says.

Steve can't help a clearly amused smile as he takes the book and scans it in. "Do you have an ID with you?" he asks, sliding the book along the desk to rest next to Robin.

He ignores the glare she shoots at him before grabbing the book to place it on a reshelving cart for later.

"Yeah, do I need anything else?" Eddie asks.

As Steve shakes his head, he leans over to grab a library card application from a small organizer. He places it in front of Eddie and passes him a pen as well. "Just fill that out," he says, leaning forward on the counter as Eddie picks up the pen.

"So, uh, what can I do with a library card?" Eddie asks, glancing up at Steve briefly before focusing on carefully writing. His letters are blocky but awkward like he's consciously thinking about how he's writing each one.

Maybe he just doesn't want to risk his writing being recognized, too? From what Steve remembers of the signatures he's seen, Eddie's handwriting is fairly distinctive.

"You can borrow up to 75 materials at one time, place items on hold, use the computers, and you get one dollar of printing credit that renews each day," Steve lists, tilting his head slightly as he watches Eddie write.

"That's it?"

Steve snorts, raising an eyebrow at Eddie when he looks up. "Oh, that's not enough for you?" he asks, unable to help a slight grin, "You can use it at any library within our system, too. So you'll still have options if you get banned from this one."

"Oh? And what would I be banned for?" Eddie asks, his writing pausing long enough to meet Steve's gaze once more and smirk at him.

"I wonder," Steve says, not missing the way Eddie's gaze drops to his lips for less than a second before moving back up.

Holy shit, he's flirting with Eddie Munson.

"I can also help you find books to read based on what you've liked previously," Steve adds, somewhat clumsily pulling back from the flirting. It's only Eddie's second time here, and he doesn't want to let himself get too caught up in...well, Eddie when there's no guarantee he'll be back.

Eddie hums softly as he looks back at the application. "Oh? What would you recommend for me?" he asks.

"What's your favorite book?"

"The Hobbit."

"What did you like about it?"

"The adventure and the characters."

"Do you prefer fantasy? What about sci-fi?"

"Yeah, those are fine."

Steve hums softly, thinking as Eddie sets the pen down and slides the application to him. "Thanks. I also need to see your ID," Steve says, opening a drawer in the desk and pulling out a library card. He scans it, a new account window popping up and waiting to be filled out.

"What's the ID for?" Eddie asks.

"To confirm that you live in our service area," Steve explains, taking the ID when Eddie offers it. He glances at the photo briefly, confirming that it is, in fact, Eddie Munson, and then double-checks the address. It matches what Eddie wrote on the application, so he nods and slides the ID back to him.

"That's it?"

Steve nods, beginning to type Eddie's information into the account page. "Yeah, that's it," he says, glancing up and smiling at Eddie, "Anyway, I think you'll enjoy the Murderbot Diaries. It's about a cyborg that hacks its control module, thinks about maybe going on a killing spree, and then discovers TV instead. It then just goes on adventures through space while fighting, like, capitalism and corporations."

"Sounds pretty badass," Eddie says, leaning forward on the counter like he wants to get a peek at the computer. "How long is it?"

"It's mostly novellas, so they're quick reads."

"Got any copies here?"

Steve hums, entering the last of Eddie's information. "I can check," he says, "but first, I need a code word for your account. Like, if you forget your pin or have someone else come pick up a hold, this word will confirm it's you."

Eddie thinks for a few seconds, his gaze dropping to Steve's nametag once more. "Stevie," he says.

Steve's fingers falter, accidentally typing an incomprehensible key smash into the information field. He glances up at Eddie. "...as in Stevie Nix? Don't forget, this has to be something you'll remember," he says, raising an eyebrow.

With a playful grin and a wink, Eddie says, "Well, I think you're pretty unforgettable, Stevie."

A beat passes as Steve stares at Eddie, feeling a rush of heat to his cheeks. He clears his throat and looks back at the computer, hesitating for a second more before typing "Stevie" into the field and saving the account. When he's done, he slides the card to Eddie along with a Sharpie. "That's your card, please sign on the back."

He notices Eddie stiffen at the request, but Steve doesn't comment. As he instead searches the library's catalog, he tries to ignore the sheer panic coming from Eddie as he tries to figure out how to sign the card. Eventually, Eddie picks up the Sharpie and writes his name in the same awkward, blocky writing he used for the application.

"So," Steve says, getting Eddie's attention once more, "we don't have any copies of the first book here, but I can put it on hold for you. It should be here in around four days, and you'll get an email when it's available. Does that work?"

Eddie nods as he places the Sharpie down. "Sure, I'm happy to swing by and pick it up," he says, his tone and smile and the playful look in his eyes telling Steve there are more reasons than that for him to come by the library.

And as Steve places the book on hold for Eddie, he can't help a tiny, eager smile.

Three

The D8 sits innocently on the counter in front of Steve, marbled colors of blue and red with streaks of gold to complement the gold-painted numbers. Steve had immediately recognized it as Will's when he was cleaning the meeting room, and he knew the kid was probably losing his mind right now searching for it. He feels kind of bad knowing Will is going to lose all hope of finding it before his next visit to the library.

At the same time, though, he's looking forward to the expression of sheer joy on Will's face when he next comes in and Steve gives it back. Maybe it'll even score him a bonus point with Mike, and he'll be a little less of an asshole. Though, knowing Mike like he does, Steve is sure he'll just get jealous that Steve made Will smile like that instead of himself.

That kid is incredibly skilled at finding new grudges to hold.

"Whatcha got there, Stevie?"

Steve blinks, looking away from the D8 to find Eddie leaning on the counter, a familiar grin tugging at his lips. His hair is loose today, falling over his shoulders, and he's boldly wearing a Hellfire Club shirt, like he's confident that Steve won't recognize any of Corroded Coffin's merch.

Which, sure, Steve is great at pretending by now. Especially after he and Robin made a bet on whether Steve could keep the secret until Eddie asked him out. Steve has incredible faith in himself; Robin says he's too dumb and gay to last that long. So far, after around two months and multiple visits from Eddie, Steve is still going strong.

"A D8," Steve says, holding it between his thumb and forefinger so Eddie can see it clearly. "One of the kids left it behind yesterday."

"They were playing D&D here?" Eddie asks, tilting his head slightly as he holds his hand out.

Steve drops the dice into his hand, watching as Eddie inspects the gold numbers and hums softly with appreciation. "I host a weekly D&D program," Steve explains. "A group of regular kids plays, and they were getting a little disruptive when they played in the common area--" Steve gestures to the cluster of tables where the kids used to set up "--and the program gives them the meeting room for a whole afternoon."

Eddie looks up at him like he's just said he's a volunteer firefighter on the weekends. It's not an awe and appreciation that Steve really deserves, but he also can't help the slight puff of his chest when it's coming from Eddie. "Do you play, too?" Eddie asks.

"Sort of?" Steve frowns slightly, trying to remember how Dustin and Will explained his role during the campaign to him. "I'm, like, extras. Their DM, Will, wanted his, uh, NPCs? Yeah, NPCs. He wanted the NPCs to feel more real, so he'll give me, like, a little script before each session and then have me voice the NPCs and give me signals to guide my interactions."

"Signals?"

"Yeah, like, if I'm a shop owner and the characters bargain for stuff. He'll give me a signal of when their, like, rolls are effective or when they suck. And if I'm a villain NPC, he'll give me a signal of when to die and give dramatic monologues," Steve explains.

And Eddie grins again, his eyes practically sparkling with amusement and curiosity. "I kinda wanna hear a dramatic monologue," he says, propping his chin in his palm and looking at Steve expectantly.

He's clearly settled in to watch a show, and Steve isn't one to disappoint. Steve does a quick sweep of the library and confirms that it's just as empty as he remembers. Then, he sits up a little straighter in his chair, clears his throat, and tries to remember his whole dying monologue from the most recent session.

When he speaks, it's with a raspy voice, laced with pain and anger at being defeated, "Curse you, adventurers! You may have won the battle, but the war! The war yet rages, and you will be caught in its carnage! Savor this victory now, for it will be your last, and you will fa-"

Steve cuts off, grinning when Eddie blinks and pouts. "Why'd you stop?" he asks.

"Mike's character killed me before I could finish. Said my monologue was boring."

Eddie snorts, raising an eyebrow at that. "It sounds like your monologue was going to reveal info about the BBG."

"Yep. It was, but Will refused to tell them what the rest would've been, and Dustin threw his dice at Mike for killing me."

"He's lucky it was only that," Eddie says, completely serious, "I might've just killed him."

Steve can't help laughing, imagining Max leaping over the table to tackle Mike to the floor. She's done it before, actually, and the only thing that keeps her from attacking again is the knowledge that Steve will ban her from the library for at least a month if she gets violent again.

"He's lucky none of them want to be temporarily banned," Steve says.

"Oh? That's all it takes to get banned?" Eddie asks.

Steve smirks at the teasing lift to Eddie's question. "Yep, so you'd better watch yourself, Munson. I expect you to be on your best behavior," he says.

"I've never been very good at behaving."

"Great, you'll fit right in with the kids."

He looks up to see Eddie's smile growing wider, and Steve suddenly finds himself wondering how it would feel to kiss that smile away.

Four

Something library school never prepared Steve for is how overwhelmed certain days would make him. That's the thing about working with the public: some days are just never-ending, a line of patrons needing something practically wrapping through the stacks, meaning Steve can't turn off his customer service voice and smile.

Usually, he'll just escape to the back, lock himself in the employee bathroom, and take five minutes to cool down. Robin has gotten great at knocking on the door when the five minutes is up, pretending she needs to use the bathroom so the other staff members don't suspect Steve of breathing away a breakdown.

Today, though, Steve can't hide in the bathroom because of the music Robin is playing in the back. It's grating on his ears, scratching against his brain and down his spine like nails on a chalkboard, made all the worse by his interactions with an older patron with a voice that was rough and somehow rounded with sharp edges at the same time.

If Steve asked, Robin would definitely turn off the music, but he also saw her tense shoulders, how on edge she was, and how the music was the only thing helping her calm down. So Steve couldn't. Instead, he just said he was going to shelf-read the non-fiction section.

Because nobody goes into the non-fiction section. At least, nobody goes to the part of the section filled with encyclopedias. It's a safe corner, tucked into the back of the library where few people wander unless they're desperate for an outdated book of information that has no real bearing on their life.

So here Steve is, sitting on the floor with his knees pulled up to his chest and his eyes closed. This part of the library is quieter, but he can still hear the general ambiance of the building: people talking in hushed voices, the keyboards clicking as people type, chairs scraping against the floor as people pull them out.

And quiet footsteps coming closer. They're accompanied by the gentle sound of metal bouncing against itself. Steve doesn't open his eyes, but he does know that it's Eddie, and he's not at all surprised that Eddie managed to find him deep in the stacks.

It makes him feel a little warm, actually.

When Eddie reaches him, he doesn't speak. He just sits next to Steve, close enough for Steve to feel his presence without their shoulders touching. And he seems content to stay in silence for as long as needed, but Steve doesn't want silence. He wants to hear Eddie's voice; maybe it will override the discomfort of the music and the patron from earlier.

"Could you talk?" Steve asks, his voice soft and barely audible.

But Eddie hears him and scoots a tiny bit closer, letting their shoulders brush.

"I have opinions about library shelving because of you now. Like, why are science fiction and fantasy shelved together as one category? They're two different genres; they represent different things. One is a reflection of our society and all that it could be, an escape into something new, and the other is a reflection of what our society was through the eyes of a new world. And, like, it's not even the ones you think. They both embody different lessons and values and pairing them together is, like, demeaning to the hallmarks of the genres and what they can do for readers."

Yeah, that definitely sounds like an opinion about library shelving and cataloging. Steve can't help a soft laugh escaping him as he finally opens his eyes and looks at Eddie. "What started this?" he asks.

"There are Star Trek novels right next to, like, Seven Blades in Black on the shelves, Stevie. It's horrendous. What the fuck?"

Steve smiles a little, gently knocking their elbows together. "Unfortunately, I can't control how our cataloging department works," he says.

"Sounds like a skill issue to me," Eddie says, "Maybe you should just get good."

Steve barks out a laugh, covering his mouth with his hand at how loud it sounds. He glares at Eddie, his eyes holding no real heat.

Eddie grins right back and leans in a little closer. "Feeling better, sweetheart?" he asks, his voice soft and gentle and brushing against Steve's brain like a cool stream of water on a hot day.

It makes his shoulders relax, something in his stomach uncurling and draining all the tension from his muscles. "Yeah," he replies, "thanks."

"Anytime, Stevie," Eddie says, smiling at Steve like he's capable of hanging stars in the sky, like he'd do a backflip with a broken spine if Steve asked.

And Steve...Steve finds himself getting lost in Eddie's eyes, and he has no plans to find his way out anytime soon.

Five

Most of the library staff hates reshelving books, but Steve loves it. He doesn't have to use his brain beyond remembering the alphabet, and he can listen to music while he works, easily zoning out so the time passes quickly.

Which is what's happening now. He's probably been shelving for a while, but he's been listening to a Corroded Coffin playlist the entire time, humming along to Hellfire and Chains. His head is bobbing along to the music as he works, and he turns to grab another book off the reshelving cart only to find Eddie standing right behind him.

Steve jumps, his heart leaping into his throat as he chokes on air and Corroded Coffin notes. Eddie is staring at him with wide eyes, somewhere between afraid and infatuated, and Steve can't help asking, "What the fuck, man?" in a whispered voice.

"Whatcha listening to, Stevie?" Eddie asks, ignoring Steve's question.

Oh. If he admits to knowing Corroded Coffin's music, then he'll probably be giving up the whole "I know you're famous" thing, and based on Eddie's somewhat terrified look, that's not a great idea right now. But he also can't lie about the music because Eddie's going to recognize his own songs.

"Uh, Corroded Coffin, I think? I heard Lucas playing one of their songs. It sounded catchy and he sent me a playlist he'd made on Spotify," Steve explains.

It's not a lie, technically. That is how he discovered Corroded Coffin, but that was almost two years ago now.

"And, uh, what do you think?" Eddie asks, glancing at the earbuds still playing in Steve's ear.

Steve studies him for a moment before smiling. "They're really good," he says, turning around to continue shelving books. "I like stuff from their second album best so far."

"Do you usually listen to metal and rock?" Eddie asks, glancing at the shelving cart before passing Steve another book.

Steve almost tells Eddie to let him do the shelving, but then he sees that Eddie passed him the correct book for this section, so he bites back the words. Instead, he nods and crouches to slide the book into a bottom shelf. "Yeah. More older stuff, I guess. Guns N' Roses, Metallica, Nine Inch Nails, Queen. That kind of stuff," he says.

"Holy fuck, you're perfect," Eddie says, his voice soft and full of awe and Steve is about to laugh when Eddie adds, "Marry me."

Steve blinks, nearly losing his balance and falling on his ass. He saves himself at the last minute, quickly standing up again so he can look at Eddie. "Seriously?" he asks, wondering if maybe he had just misheard.

He did not. And this is proven by Eddie moving around the shelving cart, grabbing Steve's hand, and getting down on one knee. "Incredibly. Your music taste is fucking immaculate, sweetheart. Also, you're funny, hot, and sweet, and I've recently developed a librarian kink, I think. So. Marry me," Eddie says before using his teeth to pull off one of the chunky rings on his left hand so his right hand doesn't have to let go of Steve.

He then holds the ring up, and Steve really shouldn't find that as hot as he does. Like. Really hot. And he almost considers saying yes. But then he fully processes Eddie's words and almost laughs. "You've developed a librarian kink? So, what, you'll drop me the moment another librarian starts ranting about the Dewey Decimal system?" he asks.

"Okay, fair," Eddie says, nodding once. "Let me rephrase that. I've developed a Librarian Steve Harrington kink. Only you, big boy. Nobody curses out the Dewey Decimal system like you, sweetheart."

That might be the most romantic thing anyone has ever said to Steve, actually. "It's a shitty cataloging system," he says without thinking.

Eddie nods in agreement, still on one knee, still holding up the ring (it's shaped like a coffin, now that Steve spares it more than a quick glance) and still looking up at Steve with an infatuated smile. "It is," he agrees, voice a little softer than before like he's ready to just kneel through Steve's passionate rant about it.

And Steve thinks that might be the final straw for him. "I'd prefer at least one date before marriage," he says, grinning down at Eddie and pulling him back to his feet.

Eddie follows his lead, standing a little too close considering Steve is, technically, still at work. He turns Steve's hand over so it's palm up and drops the ring into it. "Of course, Stevie. How about lunch tomorrow? My treat," he offers.

Of course, Steve says yes.

+ One

"I still think there are funnier ways to tell him," Robin says, crossing her arms and pouting as Steve leans against the counter, his back to the door.

Steve sticks his tongue out at her. "You're just mad you lost the bet," he says. Telling her she lost had made Steve's entire week, especially since it means Robin is finally (finally!) going to dress up with Steve the next time they go to a basketball game together. He's got a jersey and shorts ready for her; he's had them ready since the first game he invited her to. They have her name across the back, are the ugliest shade of mustard yellow he could find, and match his perfectly.

"That jersey is the work of the devil," she says, her nose scrunching in disgust at the thought of it.

Steve just grins. "You never know, maybe a nice girl will be enraptured by your awkward lesbian swag," he says.

Robin is about to answer when she looks over Steve's shoulder and grins, her eyes lighting up. Steve looks over his shoulder to see Eddie smiling at him. "Hey, Stevie," he says.

And here it is. The moment of truth. Steve grins right back at Eddie and turns around, letting him see the graphic on his shirt. It's one he bought at a Corroded Coffin concert a year ago. It has the band's first album cover emblazoned across it with Eddie front-and-center, playing his guitar with the other band members around him as bats swirl in a red haze above their heads.

Eddie stares at the shirt, his smile freezing on his face and his body tensing. Panic starts to fill his eyes, and he glances up, looking ready to explain himself only to stop when he sees Steve's soft, endeared smile. He pauses, studying Steve's expression for a moment before laughing a little awkwardly and tugging on a lock of his hair, using it to cover his mouth. "So, uh, you knew the whole time," he says.

"Yep," Steve replies, leaning forward on the counter so it's harder for Eddie to avoid looking at him. "I did."

"Why didn't you say anything?" Eddie asks.

"You didn't want me to," Steve says. Then he considers his words and corrects, "Or, you didn't want to be recognized. When you first came in, you were bracing yourself for it, and I figured you'd feel more comfortable if I pretended not to know you."

"What about all the other times?"

Steve shrugs, his smile becoming reassuring. "I figured you'd either tell me when you were ready, or I'd tell you when we went on a date because you'd probably get all in your head about having a secret like that while we were dating."

And Steve is right. Eddie would have freaked out over the secret, and he would have struggled with telling Steve at just the right moment, and time would have stretched on and on until it had been too long to tell him anything. It would have been agony for Eddie and left Steve concerned and just not a good time for anyone.

"So, uh, how long have you been a fan?" Eddie asks.

"Well, I wasn't lying about hearing your music from Lucas, but I did lie about the time. It was two years ago," Steve explains.

Eddie slowly nods and then starts to grin. "So, how's it feel dating a celebrity?" he asks playfully, leaning closer and wiggling his eyebrows at Steve.

"Like a Wattpad fantasy come true," Steve deadpans, nearly cracking when he hears Robin lose her shit behind him, her laughter turning into wheezes within seconds.

Eddie laughs, too. It's loud and bright and makes Steve feel warm and happy, like every problem could be solved simply by making Eddie laugh just like this.

Steve is eager to find out if that's true.

[cheriladycl01]

Mercedes Golden Girl - Grid x MercedesSplit! Reserve Driver

Plot: You are the woman to have come the furthest in modern Formula 1, as reserve driver for 3/10th of the grid she's thrown about the shop in the season of 2024.

Credits to csquaredinred for the GIF

Y/N Y/L/N was a name in Motorsport History books. She had currently come the furthest a woman has in F1 in many years.

Following in Oscar Piastri's footsteps, you won F3 in 2022 two years after him while he was storming through F2. You had an extremely dominant season being 30 points ahead of the next person behind you.

F3 wasn't too bad, you had one other girl with you that you were able to hang out with, as the boys were all the same in F3.

It was harder in 2023 when you graduated to F2 and were the only girl on the grid. Obviously you made friends with the boys but you always felt like the outcast, you never understood the 'boys jokes' and sometimes they wouldn't invite you to stuff because 'girls wouldn't like it' and it upset you.

You were very nervous to get into F1, only assuming that gap would be larger than it was in F2. So when you won the championship it only seemed smart for Toto to Promote you to the Mercedes reserve driver, on loan to McLaren and Williams as and when needed.

You'd been in the Mercedes Young Driver and Development Programme since Karting thanks to your family connections to one of the mechanics.

He begged Toto to go see you karting and give you a change and that was when his mind was set to help you further your career where he helped you into F4 and other racing.

There was an open spot in 2024 for you to be a Reserve Driver for Mercedes with Frederick Vesti and Mick Schumacher starting to look at other racing categories like WEC and Indy Car. So having you available in a second was important for Toto, they made a clause as engine suppliers for Williams and McLaren that they could also use you as a reserve driver as long as Mercedes had first dibs on you.

You thought your 2024 season would be pretty slow, only getting to go in the F1 car in Free Practice sessions like you had before but oh boy how wrong you turned out to be.

When Lewis announced he was moving to Ferrari in 2024, you had conversations with Toto Wolff and George Russell to see if that Mercedes seat could be yours, despite their being talk of Carlos Sainz, Alex Albon, Kimi Antonelli, Mick Schumacher and Frederick Vesti all up for taking that seat you hoped that maybe you could get it.

Toto didn't confirm anything and for the first four races, Bahrain, Saudi Arabia, Australia and Japan you did everything you could for the team, grabbing waters, helping hospitality make food, being chauffeur to any of the drivers who were tired after the races and everyone could see how much effort you were putting in.

CHINA 2024

In China, Logan Sargeant sprained his wrist in training and by the time FP1 came around the medical team said it wasn't safe for him to drive. As the sole and only reserve driver Williams had it was up for you to race.

Williams hadn't had a good season and they were worried having a rookie in the car. Both Alex and Logan had their fair share of mistakes and they were worried about their spending this year. They couldn't afford another chassis until Miami.

They also had yet to gain points with either the boys currently.

You were a lot smaller than Logan so they spent time padding out the car to help you so your neck didn't suffer with the G-Force as much.

By the time FP1 came about the car had been padded out fully.

"And here we have a very nervous looking Y/N Y/L/N who has been confirmed to take Logan's place for the race this weekend and will be partaking in her first F1 race. Awwww look at her talking to Logan and his team..." Ted says as he sees her on screen, talking through what was probably race strategy.

"Yeah, obviously she's done these Free Practice sessions but never a race so I'm excited to see what she can do on Sunday!" Martin says looking at her as she starts to pull her race suit up and put her helmet on.

You get in the car and after some wet conditions and not everyone getting out your fourth fastest on the board.

All the interviews were joking around saying how you were a Mercedes miracle.

FP2 saw you get P12 and you were pretty happy with that result as you weren't trying to drive quickly, you were just trying to get used to the track. You'd never driven the Shanghai circuit so getting to grips on the circuit was difficult.

FP3, went better and you came P9, trying to see how confident you were on the track and you were trying to go the quickest time you could without risking the car too much.

Qualifying was not good, your breaks were faulty meaning you didn't make it pas Q1 saddling up in P16.

"How did you feel about that qualifying session Y/N?" an interviewer asks and you.

"Yeah I think I got as much out of that car as I could on that day. I'm not only learning the track... I'm still learning the car and how it's built and just how different it is from F2. Learning both at once is pretty complicated so I'm personally proud of what I've achieved and yeah I hope the team is proud of me too.

"Yeah Y/N i think you've really got to understand just how amazing what you've done so far this weekend is already amazing and no matter the result tomorrow people will still be incredibly amazed by what you've managed to do in a lower end car" he smiles and you grin back.

"Thank you really!" you grinned, nearly tearing up at the kind words.

Come the Sunday and you were ready and raring to go, Williams had come up with an impeccable strategy that you knew you'd be able to pull something off.

"IT'S LIGHTS OUT AND AWAY WE GO HERE WE ARE RACING IN SHANGHAI CHINA FOR THE FIRST TIME SINCE 2019. AND EVERYONE MAKES IT ROUND TURN ONE, BUT OH MY GOD CONTACT IN THE REAR WITH, WHAT THAT A WILLIAMS AGIAN?" the commentator screams and everyone in the garage is holding their breath, the dust from the gravel trap not allowing them to see which car went into the wall.

Your family were panicking thinking it was you.

"IT'S NOT! IT'S THE RB OF YUKI TSUNODA AND THE ALPINE OF ESTEBAN OCON! AND NOW VALTTERI BOTTAS IS HAVING TO STOP HIS CAR ... LETS REWATCH TO SEE WHAT OCCURED!" the commentator says as they watch the replay of Esteban taking the turn to wide and not leaving enough room for Yuki crashing into the side of him while clipping Valtteri's wheel and wing.

The race went on and you'd managed to climb all the way to 5th thanks to you having insanely good tyre management. It was always one of the things you were condemned for in the lower feeder series is how well you looked after your tyres.

"Y/N is just doing an amazing job, not only is she currently the only one to have not pitted but she's managed to climb her way up the ranks and get that distance she'll need to pit" the commentator says watching.

"I think she's really starting to struggle on those tyres though. I can imagine they'll put her on soft tyres for the last few laps to help her gain those vital positions. Everyone else seems to be on the mediums right now" he explains and on the next lap you called to pit.

However the commentators our outraged as Williams fumble, calling both you and Alex into the pits at the same time.

"Guys what the hell is going on?" you ask waiting behind Alex's car who was getting new tyres and had a very quick pitstop.

However the crew weren't prepared for the double up, so they run getting looking around for what they need for you. It ended up being a 12 second pit stop and you were crying with frustration by the end.

"Y/N I'm sorry we are looking into it" Logan's engineer says and you just ignore.

You came out of the pits in P15 so you had a lock of making up to do.

"AND FOR THE FIRST TIME THIS YEAR WILLIAMS HAVE RECIEVED POINTS, AND BOTH OF THEIR DRIVERS AT THAT DESPITE ALL THAT WAS THROWN AT THEM TODAY THEY HAVE GOT THEMSELVES THOSE VITAL POINTS THAT WILL STIR WILLIAMS IN THE RIGHT WAY!" the commentator yells and as you drive past the pitwall, all engineers from many of the teams are cheering your name making tears come from your eyes, scoring your first point in F1. P10 in your first race.

"You really were just phenomenal out there today Y/N. You had the best tyre management by statistics which is incredible for a reserve rookie... you've just amazed us all!" Naomi smiles at you.

"Honestly its such a great feeling going out there and making the team proud, i think Williams still have so much to work with and I experienced that today but with drivers like Alex and Logan who are both so driven and hard working i can really see them improving throughout the season.

"Do you think you'll do any other races this season?" he asks and you laugh.

"I think I'm lucky as a reserve driver to have been given this opportunity. Obviously my heart goes out to Logan and I hope he makes a full recovery for his home race! But ultimately i dint think I will be called on again this season." you nod.

MONACO 2024

"When you got the phone call from Toto explaining that Lewis wouldn't be able to race in Monaco, you were shocked. It would take something really big to make Lewis not race.

You'd come to the paddock pull of nerves and you felt physically sick. Mercedes, even though their car was pretty shit this year, still had a mid field car and you were going to prove that you could drive it like it was a championship winning car ... if it was any other circuit than Monaco.

Monaco was... well Monaco. It's an itty bitty small street track that didn't have a lot of room for overtakes, had twisty corners that were very unpredictable and could always have a chance of rain.

So yeah you were worried.

Too the point you actually had a panic attack, there you were in your drivers room crying and sobbing over the pressures from media day before going out to FP1.

"Y/N?" you heard from outside your drivers room making you stop completely in your tracks trying to make your crying silent but you were doing this weird little hiccupping sound as you were gasping for breaths.

"I'm coming in!" George says and he walks in, greeted by your red puffy eyes and tear-stained cheeks.

"Awwww baby" he says with a pout and pulls you into a hug as you sob more. There wasn't as much pressure on you as there were in the Williams, Mercedes had been constructors champions for 8 years in a row.

"George I'm so scared, what if i mess up!" you cry looking at him and George was nearly brough to tears himself seeing this 21 year old girl sobbing into his chest at the prospect of her messing up.

"What are you worried about messing up!" he asks.

"The race, the constructors championship! Everything!" you cry harder. George stays with you until you both are needed for the Free Practice Session.

Lewis' Mercedes has to be very packed out for you as he was a bulky man despite his height and that was the first issue in FP1. They hadn't packed you out enough and your were struggling a little with the G-Force, some corners the particularly fast ones, your head was flying to the side causing your steering to be a little off.

Despite that it made for a great weekend. George was right, you didn't have anything to worry about and you came P7 while George game P5 having car problems in qualifying meaning he'd had the better overall driver working his way up to the position he had.

"And again Y/N, how do you feel now that you are above Ollie Bearmen in the drivers Championship!" she asks and you giggle. You and Ollie despite being in different driver development programmers had a special bond. You both karted together a lot as kids and you went to the same school as him despite being a few school years above him. You had a sibling sort of bond.

"Yeah, i mean it's a little unfair to compare me at all considering he drove the second best car on his first F1 race... but i think we both stepped up to the challenge well and really took it in our strides. I'm excited to see of there are any teams willing to offer him a seat. I think so much talent from F2 is being wasted and the feeder series doesn't feel like its doing well of getting drivers into F1... so it would be interesting to see a new category added that's closer to F1 than F2 ..." you admit knowing that's how all of the washed out F2 drivers felt that will potentially never get to experience a career in F1.

SPAIN and AUSTRIA.

You were on a yacht, you didn't know whose but you were on a yacht when you had the news that George Russell had fully broken his foot in a crash Canada and they'd need you to step in for two races while it healed. He was getting surgery... of course he was and it should be healed by the time George's home race came around.

Getting to drive alongside your idol Lewis was incredible. He'd made you feel so safe and comfortable the whole weekend and you clung to him in all the media and interviews.

Not that Lewis minded, he found you adorable and didn't want you to feel left out or side-lined. He brought you out for food with some of the other drivers who you got talking to finding out their likes and dislikes. Lewis and Charles would excitedly gossip about them being team-mates for 2025 and whether Toto had found a replacement.

"Well... Carlos told me... and you cant tell anyone... promise?" Charles said seriously as the three of you were stood at the bar. And you nod.

"He's been offered a 3 year contract at Red Bull which is perfect for him to then make the move to Audi!" Charles exclaimed and you let out a breath of release.

The Mercedes seat was still up for grabs.

Spain was incredible, you'd never felt the heat and an atmosphere quite like it and you got you best result yet, coming P5. You kind of blamed that on Max and Perez crashing into each other and the debris messing with Carlos' car meaning Charles, Lewis and Lando took the podium while you and Oscar were just shy of it.

Austria was also good where you came in P8, Aston and Ferrari having had upgrades meant it was a tougher battle with everyone on the grid.

You now had 21 points, and were 10th in the constructors championship despite not being there for all the races which you were pretty impressed with. You'd scored points at all your races.

But it wasn't until Monza that the big one came.

MONZA

You were asked to fill in for Mr Oscar Piastri who had come down with what the medical team deemed invasive tonsillitis and he was not on par to drive.

Again you were nervous but having driven the Mercedes a few times you felt more and more confident.

You and Lando had pretty much spent the whole media day messing around. Lando did it, not only because he liked you but because he knew you were nervous despite the front you were putting on for everyone in the garage.

You and Lando got on like two pees in a pod and everyone found the dynamic hilarious. Lando flirting with you while you were innocently oblivious to his moves.

Lando found you insanely attractive. Every race you turned up at he'd look out for you in the paddock just so he could see you in your Mercedes gear.

Today however, you looked even better rocking the Papaya.

"You look good today!" Lando attempted as he grinned at you.

"Thank you! I got a new helmet design for this one, wanna see?" you ask and he nods. You show him your helmet which was so you, but you'd gone all out making it glittery. One side had Lando's pattern on it from his standard 2024 helmet.

"Oh woah! That looks great!" he grins, watching as you pop it on. He teasingly slaps the lid down making you try to reach up and swatch his hands away and lift the visor back up.

"Lan come on!" you cry frustrated making him chuckle.

Qualifying came and Piastri's now your car had so many issues meaning you were starting in Sunday in P11, which wasn't great. But the engineers promised to fix the issues before the race.

Lando got pole and you were overjoyed no longer caring about the shit show of your Qually.

You were jumping and hugging him as he got out the car and he enveloped you back in the hug.

"I'm so proud of you!" you'd squealed to him, and thank god his helmet was on because boy was blushing hard.

"Thank you!"

Sunday came around and it was carnage.

"AND AFTER A DIFFICULT RACE LANDO NORRIS WINS THE 2024 ITALIAN GRAND PRIX HIS FIRST EVER WIN, HERE COMES MAX VERSTAPPEN IN P2 AND Y/N Y/L/N GETTING HER MAIDEN PODIUM AS A RESERVE DRIVER FOR MCLAREN. WHAT A RACE SHE HAS HAD!" the commentator screams.

All of the Mclaren team were celebrating from the pit wall as you and Lando waved at them.

Being up there on the podium with Lando and Max was like nothing you've ever experienced. You were drenched in sticky champagne and you were laughing and joking with two friends about the victory.

"If that doesn't get her a seat next year I don't know what will" the commentators say before the Sunday Race stops broadcasting live.

Taglist:

@littlesatanicassholebitch @hockey-racing-fubol @laura-naruto-fan1998 @22yuki @simxican @sinofwriting @lewisroscoelove @cmleitora @daemyratwst @lauralarsen @the-untamed-soul @thewulf @itsjustkhaos @purplephantomwolf @chasing-liberosis @summissss @gulphulp @starfusionsworld @jspitwall @sierruhhhh @georgeparisole @youcannotcancelquidditch @tallbrownhairsarcastic @ourteenagetragedy @peachiicherries @formulas-bitch @cherry-piee @spilled-coffee-cup @mehrmonga @bigsimperika @blueberry64857959 @eiraethh @lilypadlover @curseofhecate @alliwantisadonut @dark-night-sky-99 @i-wish-this-was-me @tallrock35 @butterfly-lover @barnestatic @landossainz @darleneslane @barcelonaloverf1life @r0nnsblog @ilove-tswizzle @laneyspaulding19 @malynn @viennakarma @landosgirlxoxo @marie0v @yourbane @teamnovalak @nikfigueiredo @fionaschicken @0picels0 @seomako @urdad-hot @tinydeskwriter @ironmaiden1313 @splaterparty0-0 @formula1mount @styl1shl1v

[obey-me-disaster]

Hey there! How’s it going? If I may, can I request some headcaons on the obey me brothers trying to seduce MC? Please and thank you!

These guys have to literally take a 'seductive speechcraft' class at RAD, in theory they should be good at seducing, in practice not so much

Warning: slightly NSFW

Obey me brothers trying to seduce MC

Lucifer

He keeps it simple. He doesn't see the point of doing complicated mind games when he knows that MC will choose him. That's not to say he won't try to win MC over or make them feel special.

Between Lucifer encouraging MC to be bolder when it comes to their advances and his confidence there isn't anything that could go wrong, in his mind at least.

He is often assertive in a way that would make MC feel like being swooped off their feet while still leaving room for them to refuse. He will make sure they know he will take care of all of their desires.

He often invites them over, either to his study room or the music room to spend some time alone together where he can be more forward.

Mammon

Mammon is really smooth when it comes to flirting and seducing, just not when it comes to MC.

He is too caught up between being a tsundure and just being genuinely worried about making them uncomfortable by being too forward. Still, after a while he will get over some of his worries, he is MC's first man after all!

He is one of the most sought after models in the entire Devildom, he knows how to use his looks in his favour and how to get people's attention, especially MC's.

With how much time he spends with them, Mammon knows how to make MC feel like they are the only person that matters to him and to make them think about only him.

That also includes what words to say and in what way too touch them. Still, he always leaves it up to MC to decide if they want to take it further. He will let them take control so they could go at their own pace.

Leviathan

Tries to think of it like MC is a love interest in a video game, otherwise he would never be able to do it.

Tries to kabedon MC and it works at first, until he realizes how close the two of them are and panics.

Depending on the MC, his cringefail personality and being borderline pathetic and endearing at the same time would probably do the trick and seduce them imeanitworkedonme

Still, he has his moments where he can be more dominant! Especially if it would be in a virtual world, where he is more in his element. Sure, he would still be nervous but he would actually manage to flirt with MC.

To add to the previous point, he actually did that in a devilgram, where he lowered one of the sits in the car and told MC he could be in charge too.

Also I am sure he has at least 3 slutty cosplays. All he needs is a little bit of courage and he could use them.

Satan

A really by the book approach, the type of thing you would see in books. He has a lot of connections but most of them were not made by seducing other demons.

His attempts would be a bit awkward at first, feeling a little bit too stiff, but after observing to what MC responds the best he will start to get better at it.

Does MC respond better to words? Well he doesn't have high grades in seductive speechcraft for nothing. He knows how to get MC wrapped around his finger. Starting from innocent remarks to comments that would leave MC's imagination run wild.

Do they like physical touches more? He may be a little bit more awkward but nothing that MC would notice.

He is probably experimenting with new feelings too, cause seducing MC, someone he actually fell for, is way more different than his normal seductive speechcraft.

Asmodeus

Literally the best, that's his whole thing. Sure he has his eyes to help him, but he has been a lust demon for a long time, he knows how to seduce someone without magic. And like Mammon, he knows how to use his body to get other people's attention towards him and his body.

Has the best combination of lingering touches that just leave you wanting for more and of words the can be left up for interpretation, really making MC think that they want Asmo even without all the seduction.

He knows just from looking at MC's slightest change of reactions when to stop or when to push forward. He knows how far he can go with exploring their body without ruining the sexual tension. He would get them so riled up that MC would be the one initiating anything. In his mind he is just giving them a little push.

He also loves to tease them throughout the day only to disappear, leaving them wanting for more. He doesn't need to even see to know that he is all they can think about.

Beelzebub

I will be sincere, I don't think he really knows how to seduce people in the traditional sense. He would probably seduce MC by accident.

He would just call them in order to record his workout routine and when MC would get there he would be shirtless and sweaty, and they would have to sit behind a camera filming a shirtless Beel literally flexing his muscle

He would also lick food right off MC if they happened to drop some on themself. He literally licked wiped cream off MC's fingers in season 2.

He does all of these things by accident, and while he may be oblivious and not the best at seducing he isn't dumb. He will see how MC reacts and will start doing these things more often.

He would probably make them help him with his workout so MC could really get close to him to see and touch his muscles. post work out sex I am just saying

Belphegor

He really takes advantage off all the time cuddling with MC to see how far he can go when it comes to touching them, while still making sure they are comfortable.

It starts either with a hug from behind when MC is doing something else or with simple cuddles. His hands will start to wonder just slightly under their shirt or just barely over their thighs all while trying too see their reaction.

Everything he would say would be done so either with his face in the crook of their neck or as a whisper near MC's ear. It probably just be normal stuff at first, but the more he sees MC get into it the more he will start going about what he would actually want to do with them.

It's a really slow process but the little shit knows how to use his words and from what started as innocent cuddles it leads to MC doing nearly whatever he wants.

I also feel like he would go into their dreams and try to seduce them there too. This would led to MC having to seek Belphie out once they wake up from that dream.

[cevansbrat0007]

Hello, Duchess

Summary: Your first encounter with Bounty Hunter, Ari Levinson, goes worse than you ever could've imagined. Takes place directly after the events in New in Town.

Warnings: Mature Themes, Ari Being A Menace, Bickering, Implied Jealousy, Threats of Violence, Cursing, Minors DNI

A/N: Special thanks to my creative consultant, @curls-and-eyeliner. Part my Sweet Renegade Series. Semi-proofread, not beta'd. All mistakes are my own. Likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated. Thanks for reading!

Ari’s P.O.V.

“Can’t believe this town actually has a real live bookstore.” Ari muses as he pulls up in front of the tiny, quaint-looking bookstore. “Fuckin’ wild.” Throwing his truck in park he takes a moment to survey the area, making note of the empty lot.

‘Must not do much business.’ He thinks before climbing out of his vehicle and confidently striding toward the door. Hopefully, the lack of an audience would make things flow a hell of a lot faster. Hell, if you were anything like some of the other women in this town, he’d probably just have to smile and flash his baby blues to convince you to spill your guts.

In fact, he was practically banking on it. Because this wasn’t Ari’s first rodeo – not by a long shot. He’d spent a lot of his life in and out of small towns like Bell’s Creek, which was part of the reason he couldn’t wait to bag his latest bounty and put this place, and its people, in his rearview mirror. Ari reaches for the handle on the door, only to frown when he gets a look at the sign hanging in the window that reads: “sorry, we’re closed”. 

Well, that couldn’t be right. 

He could’ve sworn that when he’d pressed Mrs. Turner, the First Lady of Calvary Baptist Church, about your whereabouts she’d said he’d be able to find you at your shop. Something about your preferring to work instead of resting and rejoicing on the Lord’s day. 

While the bounty hunter supposed he could always try back tomorrow, he was keen to check you off his list. Refusing to admit defeat, he decides to try his luck anyway, only to be surprised when the door opens with a tinkling chime of a bail. 

Confused but also now on high alert, Ari takes a tentative step inside as he looks for any sign of life. “Hello?” He calls out, finally allowing the door to swing shut behind him. Instinct has him reaching for his back pocket, checking to make sure he had brought along his firearm.

Just in case.

“Is anybody here?” He tries again, moving further into the shop. The place is clean and well lit, and boasts rack after rack of books. But what’s most impressive is that there doesn’t appear to be a speck of dust anywhere. “Look, I just came by to–”

“We’re closed!” A disembodied voice sounds from the back of the store. 

“Yeah, I saw the sign, ma’am…” He clears his throat. “But I think you forgot to lock the door, so I –”

“That means get out!”

“So much for southern hospitality.” Ari grumbles under his breath as he continues on his mission to track down the owner of the voice. “Ma’am, I just wanna talk. And maybe–ahh shit!” He curses when his hip accidentally connects with a half-full rolling cart, sending several of the heavier books crashing to the ground. “Sorry!” 

“Did you just break something?!” The voice suddenly screeches. “Don’t make me get my taser.”

“There’s no need for that.” Instead of picking them up, the bounty hunter hastily nudges them aside with his foot. “My name is Ari Levinson, and I’m just here to ask you a couple of questions.”

While this isn’t how the man had expected any of this to go, he’s relieved when he sees a familiar face peek at him from around the corner. A face that happened to be even more beautiful than he initially remembered. Even though it had only been a couple of hours since he’d seen you last. 

Damn! It was as if the image of you in that dress taking up space at the other end of the pew was now permanently imprinted into his brain. He'd have to tread lightly here.

Otherwise things could get complicated. Fast.

Your P.O.V

“Pretty sure this is what law enforcement calls trespassing.” You sniff, craning your head around the corner to stare at the man who was taking up entirely too much space in the narrow hallway. Sure said man was easy on the eyes, but you’d be lying if you said you weren’t at least a little concerned about his apparent inability to read. 

“I can assure you that’s not what this is.” The lawman holds up his palms in an effort to placate you. 

And although you try not to stare, it’s impossible to miss just how big they are – how rough they seemed – with just the right amount of callus. You can’t help but wonder what those hands would feel like on your bare flesh. 

“Then what is it?” You ask, struggling to keep your tone short and clipped as you emerge from your hiding place. The last thing you needed was to have this man thinking you were actually attracted to him. 

If anything, you considered yourself to be curious. No harm there, right? 

“As I said, my name is Ari Levinson. I’m a bounty hunter from just outside Rosewell, New Mexico who also occasionally moonlights as a private investigator.” He tells you, jamming his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “I just stopped by to ask you a couple of questions. And while I didn’t necessarily mean to intrude, I figured you might appreciate me taking a more delicate approach on account of your relationship with my person of interest.”

Fucking Martin Westbrook. He’d been the bane of your existence ever since you’d first crossed paths back in high school. 

“I know you’re looking for Martin.” Annoyed by the very nature of the conversation, you pick up a box, hefting it onto your hip so that you can carry it out to the sales floor. “But I’m not quite sure how much help I can be.”

You brush past him, inwardly smiling when he scrambles to get out of your way. It was a subtle reminder that this was your shop. And you absolutely refused to be intimidated by him or anyone else. 

“I’m sure whatever you have to say will be plenty helpful.” He’s quick to reassure you as he turns to follow the path you set. “Provided you’re honest, that is.”

“Did you really just waltz into my shop and call me a liar, Mr. Levinson?” 

“I meant no offense.” Ari coughs, scrubbing a weary hand over his bearded jaw. If you were the overly presumptuous type, you might think you’d just managed to fluster the poor man.

Now feeling extra prickly, you drop the box onto the far counter of your cashwrap before turning to face your unwelcome guest. “As you can see, I have a busy day’s work ahead of me. And I was really keen on doing it by myself.” You gesture at the array of other boxes and racks placed around the store. “So if we could get a move on, I would greatly appreciate it.”  

“Gladly.” He gives a brief look around. “Is there some place maybe where you and I can sit and chat?”

“I’d say here is about as good a place as any.” You tell him as you step behind the counter. Bending down, you snag a bottle of cleaner, along with a couple of rags. If this man insisted on being here, then he would just have to deal with you taking care of your business. “I’m pretty confident in my ability to multitask.”  

Nodding along, Ari pulls out a small notepad and pen from his back pocket. “When was the last time you saw Mr. Westbrook?”

You let out a sigh as you begin to spray down your countertops with your all-purpose cleaner. While you supposed you could’ve gone with something a little more industrial, you were partial to the way this particular brand’s products always smelled. 

“I don’t know.” You shrug as you bask in the scent of rose and cedar. “Maybe three, four weeks ago.” 

“Do you happen to recall the day and time?”

“No. Not really. If I had to ballpark it, I’d guess sometime around the 5th of last month.” You move to the next flat surface, spraying it down just like the last.

“You sure about that?” You try not to let it irk you when you see him take a seat on a nearby step stool out of the corner of your eye. 

“As much as I can be.” 

“And did Mr. Westbrook happen to give you any indication of where he might be headed?”

“Nope.”

He’d been nervous though. That much you did recall. By the time he’d come to you that night, your old friend had been well beyond spooked. 

“Did he give you his reason for leaving?”

“We didn’t…” You trail off, taking a moment to scrub at a particularly stubborn sticky spot that’s marring the wood. “There wasn’t really much time for talking.” You’re so concerned with scrubbing that you miss the way the county hunter’s eyes narrow as he studies you. “He just stopped over to say goodbye.”

And to borrow all the cash you happened to have on hand – to the tune of $500. Enough for a bus ticket and a couple nights in a dirt cheap motel.

“Right.” Ari scoffs, admittedly with a bit more heat than he intends. “Not a lot of time for talking.” He pauses briefly to drag a hand through his shaggy brown locks. “Not sure why I didn’t wanna believe them.” 

“Am I sensing a problem, Mr. Levinson?” You hum, tossing your rag to the side in favor of focusing on the rugs. 

“I guess I’m just having a hard time wrapping my head around the fact that he kept you in the dark about his plans.” He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “In my experience, most men like Martin tend to have loose lips around the women they’re fuckin’.”

In that moment, it’s almost as if you can feel the air go out of the room. Just who the fuck did this knuckle-dragging, mouth-breather think he was?

“Excuse me?” Those two little words are spoken through clenched teeth. You’re so taken aback by his brazen accusation that you can scarcely breathe, let alone think.    

Ari simply quirks a tawny brow at you, seemingly unaware of the danger he’s just placed himself in. Did he not see how close your hand was to that damned stapler? While it was clear that folks in this town had been running their mouths, they’d apparently neglected to mention that you’d also been the star pitcher for your high school softball team.   

“Apologies if I offended your delicate sensibilities, Duchess. But I’ve never been the type to beat around the bush. Besides…” The smug bastard tucks his pen behind his ear. “You have to know that people in this town like to talk.”

Fire simmers hot in your belly, as you come out from behind the register. It takes less than ten  seconds for you to bridge the distance between yourself and the cocky lawman. While you might’ve been taught never to raise a hand against anyone, this man was sorely testing every last bit of your patience.

“I want to make one thing very, very clear.” You hiss once you’re finally standing toe-to-toe with the handsome interloper who, of course, makes no room to get up himself. “I have never – not even once – slept with Martin Westbrook. He’s a friend, you backwoods jackass. Something you clearly know nothing about.” 

“I get the feeling I struck a nerve.” 

And, judging by the newfound tick in his jaw, so had you. Except you had no way of knowing it was because he’d lost a buddy of his own a little while back. 

“And I think it’s about time you got the hell out of my shop.” His piercing blue eyes fly to yours, letting you know that you’d managed to surprise him with your heated dismissal. 

Good. Because this Ari Levinson fella had officially overstayed his welcome.

“Look, Duchess. I apolo –”

“That’s the second time you’ve called me out of my name, Mr. Levinson. And I’m not sure I appreciate it.” You spit as you take a step backwards with the intention of giving him enough space to stand. “Now, I’ve been nothing but amenable to your rather…invasive questions. But we’re done. So, I’m gonna have to insist that you leave.”

Before you decided he’d make a deserving candidate for death by a thousand paper cuts. 

Your pulse continues to thrum in your ears as you watch him rise to his full height – an impressive 6’4 – so that he now towers over you. Perhaps if you weren’t so angry you’d be a little more tempted to allow your mind to wander a little farther into the realm of fantasy. 

But not now. 

Right now, in this moment, all you wanted was to watch Ari Levinson’s sculpted ass walk right out your front door.  

Nodding, the now quiet bounty hunter begins moving in the direction of the entrance. Neither of you say a word as you make that quick walk. In fact, you don’t speak again until Ari’s hand is on the handle. 

“For what it's worth…” He blows out a weary breath. “This wasn’t how I meant for this to go.” His eyes find yours, as if imploring you to see the truth in them. 

However, instead of responding all you can do is offer up a shrug. Which he, of course, takes as an opportunity to keep going. 

“It’s just…the idea of someone like you getting caught up with a piece of slime like Westbrook…” He pauses long enough to open the door and take a tentative step outside. “I guess it bothered me more than I realized.”

His reluctant admission has your stomach tied up in knots, which prompts you to ask the one question you were almost certain you’d regret later: 

“And just what do you mean by that?” You do your best to seem unruffled as you awkwardly brace yourself against the doorframe.

“All I’m saying is that you’re out of his league.” Feeling even more confused, you watch as Ari’s lips curve in a faint smile. “And if you didn’t know that before, well, now you do.” His head dips politely as he turns to head towards his truck. 

“Guess I’ll see you around, Duchess.” You don’t have to see his face to know that he’s grinning. “Oh, and don’t forget to lock up. Might help with all those unwanted visitors you’ve been havin.”

Ari doesn't need to turn his head to know that you're currently giving him the finger. He can feel it. And all it does it make him smile harder.

END 

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[foxglovepng]

Hello! Can I request for Soulmate AU of your choice for Leona, Idia, Floyd and Malleus? Thank you in advance!

Characters: Leona, Idia, Floyd, Malleus

CW: Leona & Idia being haters, Floyd is Floyd. Maybe OOC, Not proofread

A/N: Hello Anon! I am not too familiar with writing for soulmate AU so this will definitely be interesting. I decided to go with the red string one because It's the only one I sort of know.

A/N: I am so sorry if these are short I really do not write for soulmates at all.

If you liked Reblogs and Likes are appreciated <3

🌼🥀

Leona

Soulmate?? PSHHHHH Leona doesn't believe in soulmates. Or so he thought.

His brother met his soulmate and well we all know how that went. Leona had given up on soulmates in general since he could never find the said person.

Going to NRC he didn't think he'd meet them.

When he came across Yuu he saw their strings joined during the spelldrive incident. But that wasn't the topic of conversation that was for another day.

When they came across him again Yuu realized they were soulmates and their eyes gleamed. Leona was like Ugh an was constantly trying to fight it, he didn't really care, but Yuu of course kept pushing. He snapped at them one day and was like

"You're annoying I don't care that you're my soulmate." and then walked away.

Eventually Leona secretly began to miss Yuu's prescense but would never admit it out loud. One day he got fed up and went to go look for them. Some students were ganging up on them and he well scared them off.

"Be careful herbivore I'm not cleaning up your messes again." Liar he would.

At first he hated the soulmate thing, but he's not saying he likes it just doesn't mind it.

Floyd

He is a special case. He doesn't care enough, but he also does care. He's neutral to the soulmate thing, but if he ever did find his soulmate he'd be super stoked to meet them.

When Yuu came to Mostro Lounge to make the deal he found out Yuu was his soulmate then. However he was currently busy so he couldn't do anything about it although he's now super interested in Yuu.

After the whole ordeal he attaches himself to Yuu to learn everything about them, and just to get to hang out with them.

(Yuu literally has to force him to practice because he won't leave their side)

Eventually when they do start having a relationship he's even more loving and affectionate knowing he can kiss and cuddle his little shrimp as much as he wants.

Idia

He can barely handle a social interaction what make you think he will find his soulmate.

He's literally a shut in who is mainly on his computer either programming, doing school work, or gaming he'd not one for social situations.

The only way he found out Yuu was his soulmate was because he coincidentally went outside for club and he ran into Yuu and learned Yuu was his soulmate. Yuu figured it out too and he pulled out every excuse in the book to go back to the dorm.

Bro is not ready for the level 100 boss

Ever since then, he has tried to avoid Yuu. Emphasis on try as Yuu would probably be pushing as he is their soulmate.

Ortho at some point tells him he can't keep pushing away. He won't give up, but Ortho literally invites Yuu over forcing them to hang out.

It will take a while and some work before Idia can work up to the idea of a partner and a relationship, but he eventually does get there.

The second Yuu starts talking about marriage or a baby Idia would ramble about how he's not ready and tell Yuu to slow down.

Malleus

Poor boy has been lonely forever a soulmate would make him feel less lonely and he'd be happy that he has someone to be around. He's been excited to meet said soul mate. He'd been dreaming what they'd look like what kind of person they are what gender they are (Not that gender matters to him)

When he was outside ramshackle and Yuu came out he realized their strings connected. He was happy he found his soulmate and would be even happier if they felt the same way about him.

When he came back from Diasmonia that night he told Lilia he found his soulmate. Lilia was happy so was Silver. Sebek was like WHAT? but he will get over it. (Spoiler he ends up liking and tolerating Malleus's s/o)

Peep Malleus planning the wedding with Lilia as the officiant.

[just-some-random-blogger]

Accidental Targ

Scene III: i told you to hold my hand! | Masterlist

Daemon Targaryen x Modern!Reader

Summary: After coming to terms with the fact you were in King's Landing some two thousand years before your birth, you get reunited with your friend and try to manifest your way back to the present. For the meantime, Harwin Strong is your bodyguard.

Word Count: 4k+

Warnings: fem!reader, time travel au, descriptions of reader's hair, incestuous gremlin!daemon, very sus and innappropriate boss-employee dynamics, low key sugar daddy!otto hightower vibes, crackfic, typos, etc.

A/N: GUYS I DID IT. I FINISHED IT 😫 Also, its come to my attention that perhaps the way i planned out everything geographically is ??? bad but no its not just roll with it AND!! remember yall voted for him ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ i have a feeling you didnt read the prompt fully but whatever HAHAHAA i honestly have no idea where i meant to take this fic, so ???? enjoy?? HAHHAAH

Shoot me if I ever say it again, but for now: gods bless capitalism, specifically for it desecrating a national landmark.

Where once I was one of the people who protested against the building of the High Garden Centre, girl, was I thankful that the old ruins of the fucking Red Keep laid there as a little ol' artsy featurette.

"What's that sound?" Daemon asks as we stand from our spot.

I turn to my side, never before so relieved to hear and see, no more than two blocks away, a rave spilling out of a club, the very one Libby and I were at before we got into this shit show. "That, my prince, is called EDM."

I hurriedly run to Libby's side to pick her up, but Daemon does that himself. He get down and pulls the blue haired woman on his back, and I help him. At the same time, I feel a buzz from my satchel.

My phone!

Daemon watches me as I frantically claw for my device. The amount of texts and call notifications that pop up on my screen is overwhelming. I decide to just let it go off and grab Daemon's arm, "come on."

We walk down from the ruins, shifting through the shrubs and foliage around it. I catch the sight a mall cop and feel agitated when he looks over. He couldn't care less though, the site was open to the public after all, and with a literal club being right there, we were the least of his worries.

We pass the rusty chain fence surrounding it, and draw near Harrenhal (the club). Once we're there, a bunch of men hoot and holler at me. I ignore them as they say something about my 'Targaryen' hair and it dawns on me they were probably calling me princess and lady because I was still in a fucking Targaryen era dress.

Still, I ignore the stupid fucks as they ask to see my pretty skirt, opting to walk faster instead. I was horrified by how loud and violent Daemon's scream was.

He shouted so gutturally that I couldn't understand a lick of The High Valyrian flaming out of his mouth. The vein on his neck popped out and I literally had to hold him back from charging and dropping Libby.

"Daemon, please!" I whimper, heart racing, "Libby's still on you-"

"Grab her and I'll fucking ram steel down- COME OVER HERE AND SAY THAT AGAIN. SAY THAT-"

Steel? I look to his belt. Fucking seven hells, he brought Dark Sister?

I look back at him with wide eyes, feeling nauseous now that I've caught how maddened he looked.

In a panic, I gently pat his face while pulling his arm back, "Daemon, please."

He doesn't look at me.

My voice gets softer and my eyes water, "Daemon, I beg you."

He huffs and clenches his jaw, still not sparing me a glance.

"We don't have time for them," I whisper and keep my hand on his cheek, "I'm just going to connect to the club's wifi from here, then I'll can call us an Ubor."

Daemon does not tear his gaze from the men, who eventually waddle away to whatever sewer they came from, still hollering bullshit as they did.

"Kesan daor nārhēdegon naejot nyetodha aōha irosh," Daemon mutters. I will not forget to slit your throats.

The relief that washed over me was unparalleled when I booked an Ubor set to arrive in 3 minutes. I whimper and rub my eyes, "okay, not long now."

Daemon finally looks at me, still visibly pissed, and adjusts Libby on his back.

I wipe my face, "we're just going to get in the c-" Fuck... I should probably prepare him for the car.

"Okay," I raise my hands, "we're going to get in a metal..." I motion to the space, "... there's going to be a- a- carriage? But with no horse... but and when I get in, you just get in with me, okay?"

Daemon's expression is now one of confusion.

I sigh and place a hand on his shoulder, "it's going to be okay."

His lips curl, "... OK."

I screw my eyes shut and shake my head rapidly, "I mean alright. Alright! ALRIGHT!"

Daemon takes in my visible frustration and nods slowly, "OK."

To be honest, Daemon was a pretty good Ubor passenger, save for the fact his sword nearly cut me, Libby, him and the fucking car seats when he tried to sit without removing his scabbard first. We were lucky the driver seemed to be used to... ren fair people.

He also seemed to be used to driving people to the ER. I was too relieved to think realize how fucked up that kinda is in the moment. Needless to say, I gave him 5 stars and an extra tip.

With Dark Sister in my grip and Libby in Daemon's arms, we finally made it to Lannister Medical Center.

The moment we get there, I run inside the ER and break down at the first nurse I see. I infodump everything, how Libby got attacked, how Harwin lost her, how some maesters tried to help us, how she lost a lot of blood, how I'm afraid she's going to die, how Daemon ended up carrying her, and I just keep going up until I saw Libby's blue hair scattered on a stretcher and the nurse told me to sit down.

I didn't have much fight in me left to argue, so I sit myself down on the bench. But then I see the nurse speaking to Daemon, who, seemed to be explaining what had happened, and I panic all over again.

Before I could stand though, another nurse was there to accommodate me. He did a checkup on me, asked me how I was feeling, and asked if I needed anything to calm down.

I told him I was fine and proceeded to answer his other questions. Daemon eventually came to my side and eyed him.

The nurse gives me a nod and offers a smile, "you seem to be physically well. Just let yourself relax. The doctors have your friend; they'll do their best to help her."

"Thank you."

The nurse nods again. He gives me and Daemon one last look before walking off.

I grab Daemon's hand once it's just the two of us. I look up and shudder, "we did it."

He looks down at me, violet eyes solemn. He brings a hand to my cheek and swipes at my cheek, "ȳdra daor limagon."

"I don't know what that means," I mumble.

"I said don't cry, pretty girl," he kneels in front of me, "worrying will not save your friend."

I stare at him, feeling my heart race and belly roll because of the look he had. He brushes my silver hair back behind my shoulders, only intensifying the flurry in my stomach. Just as I opened my mouth to speak, suddenly, my stomach growls. Oh.

Daemon turns his eyes to my belly as I clutch it.

"You want something to eat... prince?"

Daemon reaches a hand out, "lead the way."

I take his hand, grab Dark Sister, and hand it to him. He fastens his scabbard as we exit the ER and I go through my satchel, fishing for my wallet. Just before I get it, I remember that I blew most of my money on the Ubor.

"Fuck," I curse and turn to Daemon, "I don't have enough money."

Daemon rests his hand on his sword and simply stairs.

"I don't have coin," I clarify. I look around the road and figure our chances of riding a bus at this hour was nonexistent. I give him a look, "do you mind walking home with me?"

Daemon raises a brow, "as opposed to swimming home with you?"

I raise my brows and sigh, "Daemon-"

"Lead the way," he nods and points, "I am not one to tire easily."

I nod and slice through air to drive a point, "okay. No matter what happens," I reach out to him, "you have to hold my hand, okay?"

He looks at my hand then my face, his violet eyes sparkle with amusement. He chuckles but he links his fingers between mine (overkill if you ask me). I'm glad goosebumps don't form.

Daemon smiles softly, "you take me for a child, riña?"

"This child knows how to cross the street," I squeeze his hand harder than necessary and begin to walk off, "I'm not sure you do, kekepa." Grandfather.

Daemon laughs, full-on throwing his head back, "how hard is it to cross? You jus-"

His words go dry when an empty school bus passes us. He was so stunned by the yellow contraption, I had to tug his arm to continue walking.

Just then, a Megatron looking-ass truck drives down the street. I hiss and curse the 14 wheeler for emitting such horrible smoke, eyeing it as it drives away.

Meanwhile, I catch the prince's stunned reaction and almost feel bad for finding it funny. Almost.

We arrive at my apartment about 20 minutes later.

I press the elevator button and turn to Daemon, "don't put your arm between the door, okay?"

Daemon gives me a look.

The elevator opens and we step inside. Daemon gives me a look, "we have lifts you know."

I pull my head back, "you do?"

"At the wall," Daemon retorts as the elevator door closes.

"The wall?" I think for a moment, "ahh. You're right."

A beat.

I knit my brows, "wait, you've been to the wall?"

"Of course I've been to the wall."

The moment we get to my place, relief washes over me. I take my shoes off and scoop my hair in front, "fucking rip this dress off me."

Without a single thought between his brows, Daemon's reaches out to undo the ties at the back of my dress.

Just before he does this, I hear him walk in with his boots and nearly have a heart attack when he passes my threshold.

"OH, ABSOLUTELY NOT!" I turn and shove him back, "take your crusty boots off now!"

Daemon looks at me in bewilderment but walks back and doesn't protest as he removes his shoes. He places his shoes on the rack along with mine.

Not wasting time, he catches my arm and yanks me towards him. He spins me around and immediately undoes the back of my dress. I hastily begin to tug my dress down once I can.

He chuckles, "eager girl."

I rather literally jump out of my dress when I can. Pent-up rage overcomes me. I turn around and start kicking the dress away, releasing all my frustration and anger out on the thing. I curse 8th century Westeros and the Red Keep in particular and assault the object until I'm out of breath.

I proceed to jump onto my sofa and allow exhaustion to finally take over my being.

A second later, I catch Daemon's expression and realize, he probably thought he was going to get lucky when I asked him to basically strip me naked.

"Ahh," I get back on my feet, "sorry about," I point to the dress, "that."

Daemon says nothing as he steps closer. He reaches out for my hip and I swat his hand away. I shake my head, "this is my house."

He chuckles as I evade him on my way to the kitchen, which was not nearly as far as it should have been. The prince eyes the space, "yes. An impressive little room you've got." He follows after me, "I'd love to see the rest of it."

I look at him as I reach my fridge and open the door.

Daemon squints at the light that radiates on me. I cuss at the fact I only had cereal (no milk) and some vegetables that have gone bad. I grab the paper box and hand it to him. He blankly stares at it as I discard the vegetables.

Daemon's brows contort at he box, "it's cold."

I wash my hands, "yeah, refrigerators do that."

"Gra'-nola," he reads.

"Granola," I correct as I dry my hands on my shift.

I'm suddenly struck with the realization his grubby has have never seen antibacterial soap. I snatch the box from him and motion to the sink, "wash your hands."

Daemon turns to the sink and purses his lips.

For a second, I debate if he'd melt if he uses something antiseptic, but then figure I should still take my chances.

I prop the cereal on the counter and exemplify him how to wash his hands. Daemon, with slight reluctance, pumps some hand wash on his palm, opens the sink, and rinses.

I excitedly applaud him once he was done.

"A hand towel," he raises his dripping hands.

I look around even though I didn't have a hand towel. I shrug, "I usually just use my pants."

Daemon shakes his hands by the sink, "your pants?"

"Yeah. They're like clothes that you put on your-"

He grabs my shift and pulls me closer. He wipes his hands on it, "I know what pants are, princess."

I push him off and smirks as he dodges. I make a face, "well, I do so beg your pardon, your majesty."

The prince lets out a low laugh, "don't get too brazen, or I'll have you begging till you weep."

I quickly change the subject, "get that damned sword off your hip." I shoo him and rummage through my kitchen cabinets.

Daemon watches this and chuckles again. He tilts his head as he eyes my legs. He undoes his scabbard, sets it on my dining table, and pulls out a chair. He sits down just as I find a can of Sbam. Huzzah!

I grab a chopping board and open the can. A small smile spreads on the prince's lips as stares. But then, his expression drops when I shake, or try to shake, the processed meat out of the can.

I huff once I've succeeded, and I begin to cut the Sbam chunk, "you know this was in created during the war," I slice a piece, "it saved a lot of people from starvation."

"Which war?"

I freeze when he says this. I open my mouth then close it, unsure if recounting the details of world wars to him was a good idea, "you know what, never mind that."

Once I was done with the Sbam, I got a pan and heat it up. I get a plate and a loaf of bread, then place it on the table.

I click my tongue at the sight of his sword, "off the table!"

Daemon watches as I take Dark Sister and replace it with the plate and bread. I place the sword by the shoes and he takes the plastic wrapped bread. He feels the material and opens it, "what is this?"

"Bread," I retort, going back to my pan.

"No, I know that, but what's it wrapped with?"

I give him a quick look, "oh, plastic," I begin to cook the Sbam, "it's made of carbon... I think- I dunno- don't quote me on that."

Daemon opens the bag and takes a slice of bread. He pulls his had back, "it's sliced."

I beam and jump excitedly, "it is! It's sliced bread! Betty White is older than sliced bread! And so are you!"

Daemon ignores this as he sniffs the piece in his hand. He takes a bite then and makes a face, "why does it taste like that?"

"Like what?"

His brows knit and his eyes narrow, "like a pretender."

I burst into a laugh. I flip over the Sbam with a spatula, "imitation bread?"

"It wants so earnest to be bread," he pushes the loaf away and shakes his head, "but it clearly isn't."

I laugh even harder.

He snorts at my reaction. He smiles as leans back on his chair. A few moments later, he grows serious, "you ought to dismiss your royal baker."

Oh. My lips twitch and I chuckle under my breath, "ah, yes. My royal baker. Yes, I will dismiss my royal baker for making horrible sliced bread. Yes."

The Sbam was now cooked. I present it to him on a plate, "bon app-- ... I hope you like it."

Daemon leans forward to scrutinize the dish.

I press my lips into a line as I sit down next to him. I take a slice of imitation bread and fold in a slice of Sbam. I realize just how hungry I was after taking a bite. Through half-full mouth, I mutter, "it's good."

Daemon watches me and follows suit. He takes some bread and Sbam, then chomps.

I stop chewing. Wait, what if he gets an instant heart attack because his living fossil-self can't handle processed food?

He licks his lips and chews. I begin to grow more agitated as he makes a face.

"It's delicious," Daemon says, going in for another bite.

My agitation turns into shock, "really?!"

"Well, it's no roasted pork, but it'll suffice," he mutter between chews.

I let out a soft laugh and nod, "I'm glad it's enough for the prince."

"I'm honored the princess herself made it for me."

Aw, fuck. Who's gonna tell him?

There is a knock on my door. At the same time, my phone rings.

Daemon is alerted by the sound and I dash away to finally answer my phone.

"What is that?" the prince asks.

"It's my phone. Remember? You can call people with it."

Daemon narrows his eyes as I rummage my bag for my device. The knocking on the door gets louder.

I turn to the door, "just a minute."

I find my phone and feel my stomach drop at the caller ID. The banging on the door persists.

I answer the phone and head for the door, "hello?"

"Fucking hells!" the voice is worn and apparently worried, "where the fuck have you bee-"

"It's not you outside, is it?" I cut him off as I head for the door.

"What?! No! I'm in the fucking North, dammit! Your friends have been calling me nonstop, since fucking Sunday! -"

I open the door and my face falls. Standing before me is a man in a dark teal suit; his tie was loose, his stubble was thick, and he held what looked like a dozen bags in his hands.

"- You and Libby have been fucking missing for days! Where-"

"Mr. Hightower," I lower my phone as the man on the other end continues to chastise me.

Otto Hightower looks me up and down, then sighs, "out of the way."

Without another thought, I step back to let him in. He expertly slips out of his leather shoes then heads towards my sofa. He places all the bags on the coffee table. I follow after him.

I hear my name being shouted from my phone. I close the door and follow after Otto.

I listen in on the call again and I hiss when the voice pierces my ear drum, "Jon, calm down."

"CALM DOWN!? HOW CAN I BE CALM WHEN YOU WON'T TELL ME ANYTHING!?"

I begin to panic when Daemon walks over.

"Who is that?" Otto asks me. He notices Daemon, then makes a face, "who are you?"

I look at Otto, then Daemon, and dash over to the prince, grabbing his hand. I watch in real time the recognition and disbelief that floods the Targaryen's features as he watches the other slowly remove his tie.

"Libby and I got stuck in the ren-fair!" I reply to my phone.

"WHY DIDN'T YOU FUCKING CALL?!"

"MY PHONE DIED, JON!" I shout back a lie.

Otto's brow raises. He looks at me and mouths, "Jon?"

I ignore that and groan "LOOK! I'm fine! Libby's-- ... Libby's," I whisper softly, "in the ER-"

"THE ER-"

"I'M TAKING CARE OF HER!"

"WHY THE FUCK IS SHE IN THE ER?!"

"Libby's in the ER?" Otto mutters.

I raise a finger to answer my phone, "Jon, please. I'll explain everything tomorrow."

He screams my name and I have to rip my phone away from my ear again. I vaguely hear him rant about how I should explain why his sister is in the fucking ER.

"Jon, Jon, I love you but I have to go," I quip and immediately end the call. I turn on airplane mode and throw my phone on to the couch.

I release a breath and find myself pulling a smile as the man in the suit eyes me. He's about to speak, but Daemon beats him to it.

"What was that?" the prince asks, pulling me by the arm to face him.

I turn to him and make a face. It's Otto that answers for me, "her ex boyfriend."

I turn to Otto as he tilts his head and raises a brow, as if daring me to correct him.

I do, "my best friend's brother."

Daemon eyes Otto; the latter makes a face, "who used to your lover," he crosses his arms, "I'm offended you take his calls but not mine."

"And who are you?" Daemon hisses, stepping towards him.

Without missing a beat, Otto meets his gaze and scoffs, "who are you?"

Daemon's pulls his chin back and chuckles dryly. His expression screamed FUCK AROUND AND FIND OUT.

I jump in front of him, my back presses his chest. I give a nervous laugh, "Mr. High- Director- Mr. Director- sir. This is Daemon."

Otto watches as I grip Daemon's hands behind me.

"And Daemon," I barely look at him over my shoulder, "this is... my... employe-"

"Otto Hightower," he cuts me off, bringing his hand into his breast pocket, "Director and CFO of King's Landing Holdings."

I wince, fuck.

"King's Landing?!" Daemon laughs out loud.

Otto produces a business card.

"It's a company!" I turn around and wave my hands, "it's a company! An establishment!"

Daemon does not tear his eyes away from him.

"He's my employer!" I explain.

Otto offers a piece of paper between his fingers.

The prince looks at it and slightly pushes me away, "what's he doing here then?"

"That's hardly any of your business," Otto retorts, tucking his business card back into his pocket.

Daemon laughs and finally turns to me. He mutters something in High Valyrian along the lines of 'let me do something' and 'stabbing'. I frantically shake my hand and push him back.

He thankfully relents and I sit him back down on my dining table.

My relief is fleeting when I realize the only reason Daemon didn't refute was because Otto was trailing right after me. My stomach drops when I feel a hand on my back.

Otto is right behind me. He places a few of the paper bags he brought on the table. He opens them, "I bought you dinner."

I turn to him, intent to tell him he shouldn't have.

"Amongst other things," he adds.

Daemon barks, "we have dinner."

"How did you even know I was home?" I say at the same time.

Otto's eyes flick to him, to the plate of Sbam on the table. His face is blank as looks back to me. He decides to remove his coat jacket, "I suppose you'd-" eyes Daemon, "-also think a candle equal to a campfire."

"Mister Hightower," I helplessly mutter.

He hangs his jacket on the backrest. He turns to me, "and you were missing--"

My expression sours.

"-- what did you expect me to do? I obviously utilized my connections. I'm offended you'd ask me such a thing."

Daemon mutters something in High Valyrian again.

"Of course, I had come see you myself," he looks at me through his lashes as rolls up his sleeves. My eyes dart to his sleeve tattoos and arm veins. When I begin to scrutinize the hairs on his skin, I realize I've stared to long.

In a panicked frenzy, I begin to unpack one of the paper bags. He, himself, brings out a stack of food containers and places them on the table.

The smell alone makes my stomach grumble.

Otto steps away and comes back with plates and cutlery. He places one plate in front of me, and has a prolonged stare at Daemon before placing the other in front of Daemon. He says, "I would hate for prince Daemon to be reduced to eating Sbam for dinner."

My expression drops. Daemon does not move an inch.

Otto turns to me and pulls out the chair. I take a moment before sitting down, because, really, did I have any other choice?

Otto opens the containers one by one and my mouth waters as I see lobster, lamb, and lemon cakes. He serves me meat and veggies, "I would assume you're not hurt like your friend."

I watch as he places food on my plate. I gulp before responding, "I'm just... tired."

"Then, I would also assume you'll not be attending work tomorrow," he takes my hand, putting the utensils in them. He scrapes a chair to my side and sits down next to me, urging me to eat with a motion.

I look at Mr. Hightower, "oh no- I will! I will-"

"You won't," he raises a hand, "see to it you're well rested."

I turn to my plate, feeling a flurry in my stomach over his words.

"Are you not going to serve your prince?" Daemon cuts in, raising his brows.

The lamb I was about to eat drops back to my plate.

The two glare, as if willing the other to spontaneously combust.

Before anything else could happen, I stand and reach out to Daemon's plate. I squeak when both grab me by the wrist.

My throat tightens.

My heart races when Daemon stands, "release her."

Otto raises his brows and tilts his head, "sit back down."

I rip my wrists out of their grips. Thankfully, neither put up a fight.

They stare at each other for what felt like ages. My agitation rockets when I see my boss begin to fidget with his hands the way he did when he was annoyed and ready to do something drastic.

I give Daemon a panicked look and grab his wrist, "kostilus." Please.

Daemon clenches his fist.

I continue to beg him until he sits.

I squeak when he grabs my chair by the seat and pulls me towards him. He mutters, "kesan daor emagon ao va bona run." I will not have you near that thing.

I turn to Director Hightower; I could see his annoyance building.

Fuck.

"Miste-" "Enjoy your meal then," he speaks as he stands. He grabs his coat and points, "I've bought some first aid things. I'm sure your friend can help you put that away."

I move to stand but Daemon stops me. He looks up at Otto in disgust, "do mind the steel contraptions on your way out."

I snap at Daemon, eyeing him hotly. He places a hand over my legs, ensuring I do not evade him. I watch as Mr. Hightower heads for the door, and in a split second decision, I turn to the prince and kiss him on the lips.

He is evidently taken aback, but it only takes him another second to get into it. Once he's put his guard down, I rip away from him and chase after my boss just as he exits my apartment.

"MR. HIGHTOWER!"

Otto turns around. I huff as I meet him just outside my door, "I'm really sorry about him. He's... he's just like that."

"You're not responsible for the actions of others," he retorts, nonchalant.

"I know. But still-"

"You are responsible for the company you keep," he adds.

I brush my silver hair back, "and you're not responsible for my well-being."

He snorts and shakes his head, "I'm your superior."

I press my lips into a thin line, deciding not to get into this conversation right now, "that, you are, Director."

We stare at each other for a moment. I examine his well-ironed suit, noticing how he didn't bother to fix his tie or buttons any more.

"I'll-"

"Is he not-" Daemon kicks the door open.

My eyes widen, "DAEMON-"

"-fucking gone yet?!" he points Dark Sister in an offensive stance. I yelp when he swings his weapon and scratches the door.

Otto's fight or flight instincts kick in and he takes flight down the hall.

"DAEMON-" I scream. I duck down and grab him by the torso, "STOP IT!"

Daemon screams out in High Valyrian. He laughs and lowers his sword, "yeah, you better run."

[copperbadge]

hi, i had a medium to big question. in your post about the adhd self-help book you mentioned people with adhd being conditioned to be nonconfrontational, but i've never once in my entire life connected the two? can you break down the connection for me so that i can once again (this week, even) have my understanding of my own condition blown wide open?

So, you are not the only person to ask about this, but that's on me for being unclear -- I wasn't trying to assert that kids with ADHD are automatically conditioned to be nonconfrontational, I was more trying to be like "Hey not everyone needs lessons in medical self-advocacy but a lot of nonconfrontational people do." And I think there is a higher population of people with neurodivergence who are deeply confrontation-averse, but I don't have like, numbers for that, it's just an assumption based on other knowledge.

It gets complicated; ADHD is a disease based heavily in acting impulsively against your best interests. But yeah I do think people with ADHD are often conditioned to avoid confrontation because of two main factors: rejection-sensitive dysphoria and executive dysfunction.

RSD, which I hate perhaps more than any other symptom or behavior associated with ADHD, automatically kicks our nervous system into high gear in social situations and encodes embarrassing moments in our memory with high-def clarity. Because RSD naturally causes a level of anxiety around socialization, it tends to make us nonconfrontational simply because a) we don't want to be yelled at, b) we don't want to embarrass ourselves by getting emotional about something that may not warrant it, and c) by the time we realize what's happening our body is already on high alert which means we are likely to go into fight-flight-freeze mode.

Me, I freeze, usually, but none of those three options are great for fast thinking during an argument. I used to lose arguments a lot simply because I couldn't think or react as fast as the neurotypical person I was fighting with, so I simply stopped having fights. Notably, I did not have this problem when fighting with my brother, who is also neurodivergent and has many of the same freeze reactions I do.

If people disagree with me, even when I know I'm right I also know I probably won't be able to vocalize it properly, so I back down. Usually it's trivial so it doesn't matter, and I've gotten strategic about how and when I argue about things that do matter; it's also a lot easier to do with strangers or professionals (like doctors) where I don't have to worry about long-term social repercussions. But yeah, our own nervous system tells us "hey maybe don't pick this fight" about every single fight and if we do pick that fight, it treats our opponent as a dangerous predator.

Executive dysfunction's interaction with nonconfrontation is something I have less problem with because while I do have poor executive function, I've spent a lot of time and energy training myself to cover the Important Stuff. I have mild ADHD so I'm capable of this; I'm not trying to say everyone with ADHD is, because lord knows it's exhausting for me and I've been doing it for roughly thirty years. But essentially, I cover where it counts: if someone needs me to do something I do it, I meet deadlines, I pay bills.

So with that disclaimer in place, a very common issue especially for children with undiagnosed ADHD is that they'll be told or asked to do something and simply be unable to begin or complete it, then when they're asked why they didn't do it they can't explain. Even if they try to explain that they simply couldn't, like they were incapable of doing it for reasons they don't understand, that usually doesn't hold water with a lot of parents and teachers.

"I couldn't bring myself to write this essay," is actually something I told myself a few times in college, but it's not something I'd bother trying to tell someone else, because if you think you're neurotypical that sounds very insane. So I'd lie and say I forgot, or I'd take the fail, or I'd simply drop out of the class. Crucially I would not fight with the authority figure who was questioning me about it, because I knew I wouldn't be able to explain myself, and I'd just end up getting in more trouble for longer.

Our culture is structured for neurotypicals, and it's not even structured for all neurotypicals. Behavior that deviates from Approved Neurotypical even when you think you are Approved Neurotypical is highly punishable. So if your options are passivity, even when passivity leads to pain, or confrontation, most people who aren't Approved Neurotypical will opt for passivity once they've had a taste of where confrontation leads. I know I do.

And the thing is, there's nothing actually wrong with that. It's a strategy calculated to minimize pain. Even when I'm firing on all cylinders on a fresh dose of Adderall, I still generally let fights go unless there will be actual real consequences, because it's just not worth it. But knowing we have ADHD and knowing we fall into this pattern, I think it is good to be aware that sometimes letting a fight go is really going to fuck you, and at that point even being bad at it is better than not engaging.

I'm pretty good at calculating those, but it's a lifelong process, knowing which hills to die on when you assume you will automatically die if you ever get above sea level.

[shallyouobeyme]

Bounce

Platonic!Yandere!EareserMic/Todoroki/Bakugo!Family x reader (GN) + Platonic!Yandere!LoV x reader (GN)

Summary: Trying to juggle hero class, very protective classmates along with their families which included multiple pro-heroes and your teachers who seemed to be incredibly extra attentive around you was hard enough - but at least they seemed to keep each other in check so that you were able to live on kind of normally, while being bounced around between them. Hopefully, no one comes around and ruins that delicate harmony...

! Minors Do Not Interact !

TW: Yandere, Dark content, kidnapping, manipulation, mentions of planning a murder, violence, swearing (thanks to Bakugo), Obsessive behaviour, I do not condone this, this is all fiction, tell me if I missed something - also this is not proofread so there's probably a lot of mistakes that I'll fix sometimes in the future

Ever since you've started attending U.A., your life has become incredibly exhausting. Now, one would think 'Of course attending the top pro-hero school in the country would be exhausting, what did you expect? A walk in the park? Idiot.', but to this person you'd say that they were right. You hadn't expected U.A. to be easy, you really would have to have been stupid to do so, but the actual school wasn't the problem. Sure, classes were challenging sometimes and the training was working you to the bone some days, but you were able to live with that - after all, you had known that it would be hard when you had signed up for it, but what you hadn't known was that you'd somehow become the pet project for not one, not two, not three, but four pro-heroes, three hero-students and two overprotective suburban moms.

When you had started school, you had expected to kind of merge with the masses. After all, your quirk wasn't really anything flashy, your family didn't include any famous heroes or rich business moguls, and you weren't one to thrive with attention directed at you. Now as someone who joined the school later in the semester for personal reasons, you knew there would be some spotlight on you for a few weeks, but you also thought that there'd already be established friend groups and connections, so once the natural curiosity of a bunch of teens was satiated, you'd be able to just go the rest of your school days in peace and quite on your own. So imagine your surprise when after an entire month of being in class 1-A, the three most popular (and probably most promising) students of the class seemed to be glued to your side, and along with them their respective friends.

Izuku, you learned after a few days, was the kind of person who was probably predetermined to make friends with any new person he met, as he even tried to be friends with the boy who bullied him relentlessly - but with you, he seemed to drive that up a notch. He was interested in literally every word you said, started to have what seemed to be an entire chapter dedicated just to you in his notebook and soon that escalated to what seemed to be an entirely separate book just for information about you. But Izuku was a little weird in the very best way possible, so you didn't mind too much, he was funny and tried to respect your personal space and need for alone time - even though he seemed to think alone time meant that he was just sitting silently beside you while you were allowed to do something you usually would do completely alone, like writing in your diary or calling your parents. Honestly, you were surprised that he let you go on the toilet alone (even though on some days the second you went out to leave for the bathroom, someone from his friend group or he suddenly seemed to need to use the bathroom as well.

Shotou surprised you with how clingy he seemed to be, after all, from what you had heard from people from other classes and from how he seemed the first time you had met him he wasn't really the most sociable person. As far as you knew, he was only part of a friend group because Izuku had latched onto him and had refused to let go until he had become one of his friends by association. So, again, it was quite surprising when he seemed to initiate interactions with you as often as possible, be it insisting that you studied with him, that you joined him while making dinner in the dorms, sitting down beside you during lunch, or just silently sitting in the corner of whatever room you happened to be with and staring. The last one was definitely creeping you out, but after Izuku had told you about all the horrible things that had happened to Shotou (later he would definitely deny any accusations of manipulating you into being more accepting of his friend's stranger behaviours) you felt too bad to confront him about it. Still, Shotou was a lot more up to your speed when it came to how calm and quiet he usually was, so you didn't have all that many complaints about his constant presence, especially since he and Izuku got along great which made hangouts mostly peaceful.

The same decidedly could not be said about Bakugo. Bakugo was a chaotic and destructive force to be reckoned with. He was brash, loud, opinionated and (sometimes) violent - basically, he was everything you usually tried to avoid. Bakugo did not like that - not one bit. He insisted that he was 'the best f**king person in this f**king place to hang out with and he was better than any of these sh**ty extras so you should be happy he even wanted to be your friend, now shut up and let him cook your favourite meal." It was safe to say that spending time with him was usually very stressful for you - at least when Izuku and Shotou were there, which was almost always because he could not hold back on insulting them, screaming that he was the only person who had any right to hang out with you and that he was more than enough to protect you - the question about what they thought you needed protection from was always more or less elegantly deflected. Curiously, it turned out that Bakugo was able to act very differently when it was just the two of you - he was still very brash and slightly aggressive, but he became a lot quieter, and a lot more thoughtful too. When it was just the two of you - for example after he picked you up like a sack of grain when the others were distracted (by his friends usually) and locked the two of you up in his room, he allowed you to quietly read a book or draw or do the things you usually didn't have the calm to do while he studied at his desk, insisting you make yourself comfortable in his bed wearing one of his jumpers.

You figured sooner or later your teachers would figure out what was going on and intervene, but your homeroom teacher especially seemed to go in a different direction. In fact, he seemed to support their friendship with you - telling you that they were the best suited in class to protect you when he wasn't around (again, no explanation as to what you'd need protection from). He insisted that you spent at least one break every few days in class with him so he could 'supervise your progress and help you with especially difficult material', paid a lot more attention to you in class than anyone else, let you get away with forgetting homework or slacking off during training, always pair you up with someone who he'd knew wouldn't let you get hurt and who'd make sure you get a good grade, and you seemingly always got better grades than the students who did just about the exact same thing as you. Honestly, you didn't really have a reason to complain at first, but then the breaks spent with him turned into breaks spent with him and his husband Hizashi (sometimes joined by Shinsou who also seemed to be close to you whenever you left the classroom during breaks, but never really talked that much).

Now the three of them (along with their friends whom the three seemed to colour off on) and your teachers were already hard enough to handle, but they seemed to be happy as long as you spent the same amount of attention on all of them and didn't actively play favourites - even though they always insisted to be the favourite when talking to each other. This delicate alliance was broken though, when Izuku invited you to stay with his mother during an elongated weekend at home - and when he gave you his puppy eyes and let you listen in on a call with his mother where she sounded so incredibly excited at the prospect of her little boy bringing a friend home with him, you just couldn't say no. The weekend was actually very nice, his mother was such a kind woman and she treated you like her own child. Actually, she probably treated you better - she made sure everything was perfect for you, she only made your favourite foods (thanks to Izuku's intel), she made sure your bed was always fluffy, your room was always the ideal temperature, the shower in the guest bedroom always had the right water pressure, and everything the tree of you did was something that you'd enjoy. Sure, she could be a little overbearing, but given that your own family had never really cared about you that much it was really refreshing.

At least it was for the very first time, turns out being cared for 24/7 was a lot less refreshing when there were like a dozen people trying to do it at the same time. Given their rivalry, it was only natural that once Bakugo and Shotou (and Aizawa) found out about your little trip to Izuku's childhood home, they insisted that now you just had to come visit their families as well. And so you started being bounced from one family to the other. Gone were the weekends spent chilling in the dorms and getting to have at least some time to yourself, instead you rotated through four different homes - none of them yours, even though the families in them would vigorously insist that you were the most important 'resident' in it. And so you found yourself in the Bakugo residence, getting pampered by Misuki and Masaru, having your clothing thrown away and replaced by custom-made ones by them, and getting to enjoy being around the (slightly) calmer version of Katsuki.

Or you found yourself in the Todoroki's house, surrounded by his siblings and his parents - his mother seemingly wanting to forget that you were not her child as she treated you like one of her own, even insisting on you letting her or Enji tuck you in no matter how often you tried to tell them that you were actually not a child anymore (not that they wanted to hear that). Enji wasn't home a lot, but he made an attempt to be home as often as he could when he knew you'd be there, causing a vague tension between his family, but no one wanted to say it out loud since you actually enjoyed when he was there (since he not only spoilt you, not shying away from any expense but since he was also the one who was most likely to let you trips with his family - the others preferring to keep you all to themselves inside) and he sometimes brought Hawks along who always made sure you had a fun time since he kind of took on the role of a cool uncle.

The family that was probably most up your lane was the family of your teachers. Aizawa and Yamada cancelled each other's energy out for the most part, so it actually felt like spending time with a normal family, not to mention that their little daughter Eri had really grown on you, insisting that you were her younger sister (you didn't bother to correct her after the first few times, assuming that she was just using the logic a little child would use) and their son Shinsou would usually help you out whenever you needed some alone time by agreeing to play with Eri for half an hour if you agreed that you'd cuddle with him and the family's cats and kittens later - honestly you saw it as a win-win.

With all of these people wanting you to pay attention to them or wanting you to spend time with you all the time, it was no wonder that you were exhausted, but honestly, you were just happy that they got along fine enough to accept the 'schedule' and routine that had arisen from the chaos because you had overheard them talking about just how willing they were to go probably too far to keep you around. Usually, you'd probably gone to the police the moment you first heard Bakugo threaten Shinsou that he'd blow up his cat if one of them ever scratched you or when you heard Hawks and Enji talk about how they'd be able to permanently incapacitate Aizawa and Yamada if they ever needed to, but a) you were never alone, so when would you be able to and b) people tend not to believe that some of the most famous heroes and their children would ever be so obsessed with someone as unassuming as you. So, you just made do with the cards you had dealt to you, just happy about the little bit of free time and privacy you had left.

While you were so preoccupied with keeping these opposing forces at bay that you hadn't noticed some different, unknown, foreboding pairs of eyes on you whenever you were out in public. One Sunday evening in a nice restaurant as you spent the last of your weekend with Midorya, his mother, and All-might who had insisted on joining, to get to know his successor's new best friend and one of his favourite students better, you excused yourself to go to the bathroom and when you came out of the stall, you felt a pinch in your neck and everything turned black.

When you woke up in a dingy bar surrounded by people you had seen only when they had tried to attack your school and kill your friends, with the girl you knew liked to stab people having you lie with your head in her lap as she brushed her hands through your hair - your hands were tied behind your back with silk so there was sadly not a lot you could do about it - and the guy who liked to burn everything around him insisting on covering you with enough blankets to keep you warm to make sure you wouldn't get sick while insulting everyone and everything around him. It was safe to say that you knew that should you get out of the League of Villains lair again, you could probably say goodbye to any time spent alone and most likely to any outing where there weren't at least two pro-heroes protecting you.

A/N: Day 9 of my Yandere Writetober, Special thanks to @sol565 for the inspiration for this story, without them, I would probably not have been able to write what turned out to be the longest story on this blog so far and I really enjoyed writing it so lots of love and lots of thanks ❤️❤️❤️ Tomorrow's word is 'Fortune'

[circeyoru]

I firmly believe that Lucifer thinks reader (unwanted soul) as either his kid or younger sibling by how he threatened Alastor if he hurts them. Also I find it cute if Lucifer makes reader an unlimited page book since he's worried if they got into a too heated battle they won't notice their pages are thinning. I mean if he can make fantastic rubber ducks with amazing abilities, I'm sure he can somehow make an unlimited notepad for reader to use. Or at least he gives reader a new welcome to the hotel gift, and because he hasn't seen them in a while

Also I wanted to add to the if alastor got into heaven version where he's dead and got redeemed. Reader would isolate themselves so much so that Lucifer visits once a week to check them. And when extermination day hits again (if it happens again), Lucifer would force reader to reside in the hotel for their well-being. That's where they meet Alastor in his all angel-looking feature glory. He probably checked on their old house first, when he didn't find them he definitely raged killed some demons on the way. But he still feels some sort of connection that lead him to the hotel where he finally found reader.

(Can you tell how obsessed I'm with this series)

Go to MASTERLIST for the works. This ask is for {Unwanted Souls}.

Ohh, I wonder if you're making Reader too op.

Part 1: Reader's/your gift from Lucifer

Instead of focusing on the book or notebook, let me direct your attention elsewhere. Ever thought about the quill? If you know how a feathered quill looks, you'll get what I mean. A quill essentially needs to be dipped in a jar of ink to write. Did I ever mention Reader/you carrying one or even using one? No. Never was 'ink' even mentioned in the story or the trivia (asks). Because that quill was a gift from Lucifer. A quill created by Lucifer and gifted to you. It's enchanted to be writable without ink and on any surface, with a camouflage mode to suit your preference, last feature is that only you can use it. Why Lucifer gave you a quill is because he knows you don't have to use pages as your surface to do crazy things (summoning weapons and casting spells). You can write on a wall, blow on it and it disappears to do what you wrote. That includes writing on the skin of a demon. If you read the demon design, you'll know what I mean. The writing on pages part was just a handicap you gave yourself and it was convenient for you to carry around a book or even a small pad to write with. Plus, you don't like attention, so you use a book with limits. You know you'll go overboard when your emotions rule over you, so you limit yourself.

Part 2: Yandere Redeemed Exterminator Leader!Alastor (what a long title for him)

For context, check this ask.

You do isolate yourself to the point it is concerning. Because you don't ask for help and you did when you asked Lucifer if he could provide you with new quarters that was far from where you were or the hotel. So many reminders of Alastor around you, you can't take it.

Seeing you in such despair, Lucifer shared with you that the souls in Heaven were granted the gift of forgetting when they entered the golden gates. You got the idea of forgetting the years spent with Alastor, from the point you saved him to the point you rage-killed for him. Lucifer advised you not to, but you were persistent in your plan. You returned back to the old place, scrolling around to make sure nothing was amiss and took in the final sorrow of nostalgia. Then you wrote down your command on your skin, you watched the words sink in and then everything went black.

Here, you were back to normal, save for Lucifer being the only one (again) who knew what happened to you. Not sure if exterminations continue (since no season 2 yet), but say that it does but further apart as a compromise for Charlie to save more souls. Lucifer visits you, but only to check and see if your memories came back, when they didn't for a long while, he didn't come as often.

When Alastor came down to Hell, he went to your apartment first thing. It was extermination day, so you were definitely there. You were sleeping through the day until your charms alerted you that there was someone in your apartment. You summoned a dagger made of angelic steel, creeping to the living room.

The moment you saw the pair of white wings, you ambushed and knocked Alastor down to the ground. You kneel on top of him to keep him down, the blade at his neck. "I'll give you a chance to leave and your head won't go rolling on my floor. You can fly back to your precious paradise and I'll let you."

Alastor's head turned to face you, a complete 180 without trouble, his smile softened as he praised, "My darling, you're beautiful."

"What?"

"Why would I want to leave you? I've done so much to come back to you. I'll never leave you, dear. If you want, I can give you my wings to make up for my absence."

Your face twisted to confusion and disgust. "What? Who are you?"

Alastor's eyes searched your face, his eyes scanned around, some things and items were missing. His signature red that would be mixed into your apartment. It was all gone. Just as he lost his memory, yours was somehow gone as well. "I'm.. Alastor. Don't you remember me, My Doe?"

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Hi! Have you seen the new Mickey Mouse Rebrushed trailer??? Twitter is goin crazy over it and how it’s related to twst 😭 just wanted to hear your thoughts on it

I did spot quite a few parallels with TWST from the Rebrushed trailer! I'm not familiar with Epic Mickey at all, so I'll just be commenting on what I noticed right away. You'll have to excuse my limited knowledge.

Firstly!! This design of Mickey is the exact same as the one we see in TWST. Most noticeable is his white face, which is a fleshy peach color in most modern iterations.

Mickey is reading Alice in Wonderland’s sequel, Through the Looking Glass. Of course, Twisted Wonderland has Wonderland in its title, and even opens with an Alice in Wonderland inspired dorm. Yuu and Mickey also connect via their dreams and through the mirror shared in their rooms.

The theme of dreams is very present and upfront here; Mickey wakes up from sleeping and then creeps to his mirror, which appears to be a portal into another world. Hmm... dreams, mirrors, and traveling to other worlds, now what does that remind you of? You'll also notice that Mickey's room is the exact same as Yuu's room in Ramshackle, right down to the "inverted" room that appears when Mickey passes through the mirror. Everything up until this point is very similar to what is depicted in the 1936 short, Thru the Mirror.

Next, Mickey spies on a wizard carefully using a magic paintbrush over what seems to be a diorama of a bunch of buildings on a plot of land. When the wizard leaves, Mickey fiddles with the paintbrush, causes a mess, and calls forth some kind of black ink monster with green light coming from within it. This seems to be a very close parallel to Overblots, particularly since the most recent OB has a signature neon green color. If we really are to connect Epic Mickey to TWST, this scene also seems to allude that Yuu, Mickey, and/or the "wizard" have parts to play in bringing these Overblots to life. And who do we know that is a powerful wizard that is aware of the corrupting power of blot and runs a large chunk of land... say, a campus? Crowley. This goes hand-in-hand with the theory that Crowley is intentionally allowing these OBs to happen or is even puppeteering his students into OBing.

I find this visual in particular to be very ominous; again, we have the colors that match a certain OB dragon fae but also the map itself reminds me of Twisted Wonderland's and the eerie visual of Malleus's thorns digging into Sage's Island and aiming to go way beyond it.

Anyway, the ink monster is temporarily contained while Mickey returns to his own world. We then get a montage of various Mickey media passing by, as well as a lot of imagery that would imply the passage of time (clocks, the date on the calendar changing, etc.). So... what? Is that implying not only parallel worlds, but also a time skip? Or maybe a time... loop? Like time loop theory???

The ink monster somehow eventually escapes and makes it to Mickey's world, with the blot dripping from the ceiling waking Mickey up from his sleep. It drags Mickey away into a hole drenched in ink. Kind of foreboding when you realize Yuu has also had prophetic dreams... Not of OBs, but of the events leading up to them. And being dragged away into an inky... opening? Like an... abyss? Like book 7, Ruler of the ABYSS?

That's how the trailer concludes!! Gotta say, there's definitely a lot of shared elements between this and TWST. If I recall correctly, Epic Mickey was a game that existed on the Wii waaay before TWST. It even has largely the same cinematic trailer (just with older graphics), so to me it feels like TWST probably took inspiration from Epic Mickey rather than the other way around. There are definitely too many parallels for it to be a coincidence. If that's the case, then we can probably pull some hints for what awaits us in the rest of book 7 from these cinematics. (This is a video comparing the two side-by-side if you think that might be of use!)

[chericarlisle]

Could you do a Carlisle fic where he’s got a daughter and she’s a huge daddy’s girl and we just see how they interact and how much he spoils her, and how much to y/n’s avail she’s got him tied around her little finger

Daddy's Girl || c.c

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: carlisle cullen x human wife reader

(𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝)

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 2.2k

𝐚/𝐧: again i’m so sorry i’ve taken years to reply to these requests, but i’m back on my carlisle cullen shit 😍 i adore writing carlisle as a dad, so if you guys like reading that check out this fic. i didn't have time to proofread so i apologize!

(ik renesmee didn’t grow like a normal kid but i’m just going to write carlisle’s daughter like a normal kid lol)

There are certain milestones that all parents spend years dreading, so very much so that they forget to live in the moment. They spend too many years counting down the time to these moments that signify the growth of their little ones. It is more than true that life flies by before you can even realize it; however, for the Cullens, the rules of time did not apply. Or so it seemed. 

For (y/n) and Carlisle, the same dread and race against time that many parents experienced was seemingly inescapable; even despite the fact that Carlisle was immune to mortality. Their precious Elizabeth, who was seemingly just born, was actually five and now preparing for her year of kindergarten. For all parents alike, kindergarten was the first big milestone of many that meant their kids were one step closer to growing up.

It was the first of August which meant that the kids of Forks had exactly a month before school started up once more. (Y/n) was pulling down the plush comforter as she prepared for bed when she noticed Carlisle’s absence. Regardless that he didn’t truly sleep, Carlisle was always there by his wife’s side as she drifted off.  She threw the decorative pillows into a corner before wandering down the hall to the man’s office. All of the lights were off in the hallway, except for one. Elizabeth was fast asleep, probably dreaming about the first day, while her much older siblings were out roaming around. It was only plausible that the solely lit room in the house was Carlisle in his office.

Knocking on the cracked door, (y/n) slowly pushed it open, “Carlisle, honey, what are you still doing up?”

It was clear that something was clearly bothering Carlisle, for his hands dejectedly held his head and he was still dressed in his work clothes. (Y/n) wondered if he had lost a patient at work today or if something terrible had happened in the family. 

At the sight of his wife, Carlisle immediately sat up and shot her a weak smile to seem convincing. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I’ve just been caught up in thinking that I didn’t notice the time.” 

He held out his hand to invite her over to which she quickly crossed the room and connected her hand with his. 

“Something’s up. Do you want to talk about it?” (Y/n) mindlessly played with his fingers while she studied his solemn expression. 

“You can read me like a book can’t you?” Carlisle playfully cocked his head before delicately kissing (y/n)’s wrist. “I would like to talk, but let’s go to bed first, okay? You seem tired, sweetheart. I’m sorry that I’ve already kept you up late.”

(Y/n) stood up from leaning on his desk as he rose from his office chair. Ever so slightly, she pecked his cheek thoughtfully before heading back to the bedroom. “Don’t ever apologize about that, Carlisle. I’m always here for you. For better and for worse, remember?” 

It was at that moment that Carlisle realized that life would have been miserable without her. 

Since the bed was already made, (y/n) climbed in, but left the bedside lamps on for Carlisle who was quickly changing into some loungewear. He came back in mere minutes and got in on his side of the bed before pulling (y/n) close to his chest. 

Her head rested on his shoulder while his chin rested gently atop her head, “So what’s on your mind?”

Carlisle softly sighed before beginning, “This may seem melodramatic, but I’m just very worried about Elizabeth.” 

“Oh honey,” (Y/n) peered up at the man to look into his golden eyes that were full of concern. 

“I mean, for three-hundred years, I never thought that I’d get to experience this kind of life. I never thought I’d get to experience this kind of love, let alone have a child of my own. She’s just growing up so fast, (y/n). For once in my life, I fear that time is finally getting the best of me.” 

Carlisle gingerly pulled (y/n) closer by the waist, wanting nothing more than for her to be as close as humanly possible. She too knew exactly how he felt about Elizabeth growing up so fast, about time moving at light speed, about everything. Words weren’t enough to sympathize with the man, so she wrapped her arms around his neck and hugged him tightly. He immediately reciprocated the gesture and lovingly squeezed his arms around her waist before burying his face in her neck. 

(Y/n) slightly leaned back, just enough so that she could kiss her husband reassuringly. “We will get through this, Carlisle. I promise you.” He just nodded and planted a kiss in return on her forehead.

Trying to lighten the mood, (y/n) continued, “Besides, Lizzie wants to go back to school shopping tomorrow. We gotta put on our game faces. You know she’s going to beg for glow in the dark backpack. I already saw her eyeballing it in one of Alice’s magazines.”

Carlisle just chuckled lightly before reaching over to turn off the bedside lamp. “Goodnight, darling.”  

-

Elizabeth was absolutely oblivious to her parents' heartache that they tried their best to hide. She also couldn’t understand the dread of older students, for she was over the moon about starting school. 

The next morning, you could only sleep in till about eight before Elizabeth jumped on the bed. 

“Mommy, wake up! We gotta go shopping today.” Her golden locks were matted and her pajamas were crumpled, but her excitement made up for her sleepy appearance. She leaned against Carlisle’s pillow giving (y/n) her best puppy eyes.

Just a few seconds later Carlisle came running in, laughing when he found that Elizabeth had already made her target. 

“Birdie, I told you not to wake your mom yet.” Carlisle walked over with his hands on his hips before bending down to kiss (y/n) on the forehead. “Morning, you.”

She peered up at the man and slipped out of the covers to stand next to him. Elizabeth, taking this as a ‘yes,’ then jumped into her mother’s unexpecting arms. 

“Thank you, Mommy!” She kissed (y/n)’s cheek in appreciation. Her sweetness made it nearly impossible for the two parents to resist. 

“Of course, baby. Just let me get ready first, okay?” (Y/n) set down her daughter and turned to Carlisle who automatically knew that he’d be getting Elizabeth ready for the day.

“Okie dokie! Daddy made me breakfast, so we can make you some too!”

Staying true to her word, Elizabeth with the help of Carlisle made a simple pancake breakfast for (y/n) who appreciated the gesture. She had gotten ready in record time which only furthered her daughter’s enthusiasm to get in the car and go.

(Y/n) grabbed her purse off the counter after eating and went outside to find Carlisle struggling to strap Elizabeth in her car seat. Her legs flailed around excitedly which made it almost impossible for the man to secure her in the seat. Deciding to not interfere, (y/n) stood in front of the garage door and watched the interaction.

“Birdie, I know you're excited, but we can’t go anywhere until you sit still.” Carlisle sat on the edge of the leather seat and looked pointedly at Elizabeth who finally understood the severity of his statement. When it came between the two parents, it was obvious that Carlisle was Elizabeth’s favorite. So for him to be serious with her, Elizabeth knew that she should get her act together. 

Once (y/n) saw that the two had finally come to an understanding, she walked to the passenger door of the car and got in. Never in a million years would she have thought to see a car seat in the back of Carlisle Cullen’s black Mercedes which was decked out in expensive leather and the finest technology.

Carlisle quickly got in the driver’s seat and backed out of the driveway before Elizabeth could fuss anymore. 

Elizabeth surprisingly was silent during the drive, instead opting to look out the window and hum along to the radio. The drive was only a few minutes long, but from the minute the car was in the parking lot, (y/n) and Carlisle could tell that this was going to be a long trip. It seemed as if everyone in Forks was doing their shopping since the parking lot was nearly overcrowded. 

“Mommy, can I have the list?” Elizabeth was currently holding Carlisle’s hand, as to not get lost in the crowd. (Y/n) fished the school supplies list out of her purse while pulling the shopping cart to the side to avoid angry shoppers. 

Carlisle had been working on teaching Elizabeth how to read, and she was proficient for her age; however, she still had some trouble. 

“What’s the first thing on the list?” Carlisle looked down to his daughter who inquisitively studied the list. 

“Daddy, what’s this word?” Elizabeth pointed to the first item on the list and handed it to Carlisle. 

“Oh, it says ‘safety scissors,’ Birdie.” He sweetly smiled at her and handed back the list as she tried repeating the words. 

Elizabeth eagerly pulled her dad’s hand to the school supply section as (y/n) kept up behind them with the shopping cart. She immediately found the safety scissors in the purple shade. Since the cart was taller than her, Elizabeth handed the scissors to Carlisle who effortlessly threw them in the basket for her. For the most part, the shopping was easy as Elizabeth went down the list and picked out each supply in the color purple. (Y/n) leaned against the shopping cart rail, nursing a cup of coffee while Carlisle tried to match Elizabeth’s zeal. Everything went smoothly until it came to the great backpack debacle. 

A great variety of backpacks lined the aisle and Elizabeth eyed them all with interest. She had let go of Carlisle’s hand to inspect the backpacks that she could reach. 

(Y/n) leaned close to Carlisle to whisper, “How much you wanna bet she picks up that damn glow in the dark backpack?” 

Carlisle whispered back, “I don’t know, sweetheart. I feel like she’s gonna keep with the purple theme.” 

Just as the two were about to shake on it, Elizabeth picked up the glow in the dark backpack. She had seen it in one of Alice’s catalogs just as (y/n) had said, but neither parent realized how taken she was by the bag. 

“Mommy, Daddy, can I please get this one?” Elizabeth came up to her parents and clutched the bag with two hands. She looked up at the both of them and pleaded with her eyes. 

(Y/n) looked at Carlisle who looked like he was about to cave, but the backpack was ridiculously expensive. Even though the Cullens had money, (y/n) didn’t think it wise to buy such an expensive backpack for a five year old girl who surely would take that bag through the ringer. 

“How about the purple one, baby?” (Y/n) tried to deflect by picking up a lilac backpack that had flowers patterned on it. She offered the ultimatum to Elizabeth who insisted on the glow in the dark one.

“But that one doesn’t light up.” 

(Y/n) then looked at Carlisle for some backup. 

“Well, Birdie, how about we save that one for next year?”

Elizabeth was about to continue questioning her parents before she reluctantly accepted her fate and picked a sparkly violet backpack. Her disappointment was swiftly replaced by happiness when she found scented markers that her parents let her get. 

After two hours, school supply shopping had been officially completed. Elizabeth’s enthusiasm had worn off as she now dozed against her father’s shoulder. It was apparent that she was tired as she became cranky near the end of the visit, so Carlisle carried her against his hip while (y/n) finished up some grocery shopping. 

(Y/n) threw a box of Advil in the cart when she noticed the glow in the dark backpack that hadn’t been there before. She raised an eyebrow at Carlisle who smiled sheepishly and shrugged. 

“I wonder how that got there?” He jested before throwing in a box of cartoon band aids that their daughter adored.

(Y/n) just shook her head and smiled. It was inevitable that Elizabeth would most definitely remain a daddy’s girl.

[deandoesthingstome]

Medieval Fantasy

Pairing: Witcher!Geralt x Reader

Summary: The offerings at this hotel, I swear.

Word Count: 5.1K

Warnings: 18+, NO MINORS, fingering, oral sex (m and f receiving, 69), p in v (cowgirl, missionary), monster fucking (right?).

A/N: I suppose, strictly speaking we're not fucking the monster, but he's still a treat, so enjoy!

A/N 2: (Edited) I do owe @augustsprincess a little thank your for an idea; I played it out during the group chat here, but I probably wouldn't have included it at all if not for you, so *smooches*

Fantasy Hotel Masterlist

Mike ordered a pizza from room service for the last hour of your reservation with him once he flipped the time switch. You sat cross-legged on the couch with him, munching happily while he narrated the ridiculousness of the rest of the scenes to your scary movie, making you giggle where you’d normally be hiding behind a blanket. You’d remember this night fondly for a long time. Mike’s easy going way had put you completely at ease once he noticed you were a little hung up on Walt.

He unfortunately didn’t know anything about how to get a hold of your missing object of desire.

You set the scene for the story pretty much as it was, but added more spook and gore, opting to split up the experience into two nights. One with live Mike, just barely slipping out the window before the parents came home from their Halloween night costume parties, only to be killed by the tow truck driver who showed up when his car, parked around the corner from the house, wouldn’t start. He was hung on the hook that should have hoisted his beater onto the truck. And one a few weeks later, when the heavy drag of the chains and hook across the attic floor led the heroine to investigate, only to be taken swiftly and with no mercy by her incorporeal boyfriend. Not rough, just urgent, insistent, longing for some other connection that would allow him to leave the vicinity of his undoing. If he could have taken her outside on the sidewalk without prying neighbor eyes, he probably would have.

You put the notice up after you posted. The next would be your last regular monster fucking post. You were taking a hiatus to work on your first novel.

sendmeanangel: and then Walter burst through the window, all wolfed out darkgothnightengale: while they were both fucking you??? sendmeanangel: yeah, and i can only think my subconscious was trying to not kill me when it chose August and Mike for that experience. I can’t imagine having anything else inside me while getting fucked by the Bull MNstrluvr: i would kill for a dream like that darkgothnightengale: well, did he take you away? sendmeanangel: i woke up!!! darkgothnightengale: and still no luck finding him? sendmeanangel: no. i found a guy who seemed like him, but he’s in Minnesota. Or was. It’s like his online presence is either non-existent or ended abruptly at least ten years ago MNstrluvr: another ghost lol! sendmeanangel: very funny. Mike was a lot of fun anyway. I needed that darkgothnightengale: and you’re still going back? sendmeanangel: i’ve never heard of a witcher. He just showed up on the site the other week and i bet he’s softer than he looks. I booked him at the same time i booked Mike, so it’s already scheduled and i could do with one more amazing adventure before i give it all up darkgothnightengale: i still don’t understand why. If you don’t have walter, what’s the harm? sendmeanangel: there’s no harm. Obviously i’m free to do what i want. But i think about him all the time. And i just think maybe it’s time for a break MNstrluvr: when you find him you should see if he’s up for booking a room with you so you can recreate that dream sendmeanangel: oh my goddddd! 

“We certainly hope you haven’t been displeased with your experiences here,” the desk clerk asked gently.

“What? No! Everything’s been wonderful. Why do you ask?” you inquired, at a loss for what may have precipitated the comment.

“We noticed you hadn’t made another future booking yet.”

“Oh, that,” you stammered. ”I just…no, everything’s fine.” You fingered the edges of the card stock bearing the elevator code to get you to L2 and tightened your grip on your bag reflexively. Just a trick you used to bring you back to steady. 

“Well, please. If there’s anything at all we can do for you…” You smiled and cast your eyes down so as not to betray your true feelings, but glanced up quickly to try to judge the meaning behind the next statement made with a hint of weightiness. “Anything at all.”

“Thank you,” you offered. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

The elevator opened to a small wooden hut, a place for your belongings and coat, a small wash basin filled with still steaming water and fragrant scents set on a wooden stand. You disrobed, dipped a washcloth in the water, and bathed yourself with the enchanting smells, then grabbed a linen towel to dry off before climbing into the outfit you’d selected for the fantasy. You slipped the silver dagger into the holster you’d strapped to your thigh and dropped your heavy skirt down over it before wrapping the cloak around your shoulders.

You had no idea what you were walking out into, only that if things got too hairy, as they absolutely could, he’d be there to save you. There to comfort you. 

You stepped out onto a wooded path leading to a trail along a marshy bog, mostly full moon shining in the sky above you. You were never going to get over the mechanics of this hotel that made it seem like you were in at least five distinctly different places, some of which were outside, while still housed in the same building. But you were solidly on the side of possibility. Monsters were real. Magic was real. This hotel was real.

You carried a small basket of goods, as if headed to a market or maybe home from one. The path ahead of you seemed less than ideal and you began to wonder if you’d made a wrong turn. The churning and bubbling of the bog was lost on you as you looked around for another path that might lead to more solid ground, grateful for the light of the moon since a flashlight app was absolutely not happening, as your phone was left back in the hut.

Suddenly, a loud shriek sounded from the liquid and a large figure began to emerge, long twig-like legs reaching into the space above it as if searching for something. You dropped your basket and ran as soon as it became obvious the thing it was searching for was you. A moment’s respite allowed you to reach under your skirt and grab the dagger before you resumed fleeing away from the monster but suddenly a creepy crawly leg swept around you and it was all you could do to jump out of the way.

You stumbled when you hit the ground, but landed on your back, which meant you could stab up at whatever was coming at you and you did. The blade wasn’t long enough to do full damage, but some gore dripped down your arm as you registered a little casualty point and you pulled back and stabbed again as quick as you could, completely unconcerned with whatever came oozing out. It had to be better than being dead, you thought.

You heard another roar and the distinct slice of a finely crafted blade through the air and the legs that had you trapped were suddenly no longer attached to the larger body that was stalking you. It gave you time to move, scramble out of the way and find a spot to regroup. From behind the boulder you saw him. Leather clad, silver hair flowing, steel blade drawn and hacking through more limbs. As he spun for another attack, you glimpsed his dark eyes and shimmery, pale skin.

It was maybe not the time, but his ass looked great too. 

“Little help,” the strained call came, as he flipped the beast over, tackling what you took to be the lower extremities. A smooth patch on the chest seemed like it was made for stabbing so you climbed onto the rock and jumped, landing right on top of the beast with your tiny blade finding a home in the furry goo. 

One final, ear-splitting shriek and the deed was done. Your compadre stood and held out a hand to help you up and off the steadily shrinking body of the buggy creature you’d just slayed. You felt your feet touch solid ground as you looked up at the mountain of a man who stood before you.

“Alright?” he asked. “I think you got ‘im, but we should head out in case there are more. I don’t think tonight is the right time for this. We’ll come back tomorrow and finish the job.”

“What job?”

“Okay, sure. This wasn’t why you were walking alone late at night in a Krak infested bog? Are you telling me you weren’t hired to clear the area?”

“No?” you answered, unsure what the words coming out of his mouth meant. Was this what a witcher did?

“Were you hired for anything?”

“I’m really not sure what you mean.” You had to find a way to talk to this man coherently. You remembered your basket. “I was just walking back to town from a market. I think I got a little lost.”

“I think you got a lot lost. Can I help you find your way back? I’m Geralt.” His black eyes were  ringed with dark circles, but in the moonlight, those looked like they were fading slowly.

You offered your name and a hand, which he shook, and you felt a line of heat rush straight through your arm, down your chest, and into your core. You gasped as the last of the shadows over his face and eyes dissipated, leaving you staring into amber eyes full of flame. The memory of lights piercing the shadows the other night flooded your brain. What if that wasn’t Walter, as you suspected? But no; the howling.

Geralt helped you locate your discarded basket, into which you stuffed your goo-covered corset and cape, eager to be free from the stench and hoping desperately that dry cleaning would do the trick when you were home. You mounted his horse, Roach, with his assistance and he led you into town. He made a beeline straight for an inn, dropping you off at the entrance with instructions to ask about lodging while he found boarding for his horse for the night.

“Oi! You’re late!” an oversized brute behind the bar exclaimed in your direction as you entered the tavern and you froze, unsure what part of the fantasy this could be. “Have ya lost control of yer legs suddenly? Bring the goods here. Now!”

You looked down at the basket with a realization that was confirmed by another shout.

“Yes. That. The basket. Now!”

You were about to begin the trek across the wooden floor to hand off your basket to the foul looking man, when a pair of comforting hands came to rest on your upper arms, holding you firmly in place.

“I think you have the wrong merchant. This basket of goods is mine,” Geralt’s deep and soothing voice growled. “And we require rooms for the night.”

Rooms? Was this not happening?

“Almost full tonight, Witcher. Only one room left.” You stifled a snort at the cliche of it all.

“We’ll take it. And I’d venture to say you’ll want to provide a meal and round on the house. At least one of your swamp monsters is already dead thanks to this one.” Geralt stepped you into the tavern and over to the bar where a key dangled from the innkeeper's hand.

“She took out a Krak?”

“Practically single-handedly.” There was something like pride in Geralt’s voice, and maybe a little admiration, though you definitely didn't handle that on your own. Still, you grabbed the key with a smirk and turned to find an empty table. Geralt followed once he’d grabbed two tankards of ale, and two plates of stew with bread were set down in front of you after a few moments of awkward silence, during which you took in the clientele. How was the hotel paying all these extras?

“Wolf!” someone called from the entrance and for a moment you thought they’d seen Walter. You looked around, but found nothing other than another sizable man clad in leather and steel making his way to your table.

“Lambert,” Geralt acknowledged him, and introduced you. “What brings you tonight?”

“Just finished up a town over and heard of another job. Looks like you’ve already taken it on. Finished so soon?”

“Hardly started. First kill’s hers anyhow.” Geralt nodded with what appeared to be reverence in your direction.

“Beginner’s luck,” you demurred. “I don’t think a small dagger is going to be of much use with the rest of whatever those were.”

“Looks like I’ll be headed out at first light alone then, to complete the task,” Geralt mumbled, with a comforting look at you before turning attention back to Lambert.  “I’d welcome your assistance with this one.”

A barmaid approached to set another tankard of ale in front of your new red-headed table mate and you didn’t miss the way her hand traced over his shoulder and her eyes met his as she walked back toward the counter to continue serving other customers.

“It’s a good thing you’ve found your bed for the night, since we’ve just taken the last one,” Geralt grumbled with a hint of tease. 

“Unless you need my assistance with anything else?” Lambert’s tone was clear and they both turned their gazes slowly toward you. 

It was a choice. You hadn’t asked for this, but you were being offered an option. Heat filled your cheeks and you cast your eyes down with a sudden shyness. Though two entirely different men, your dream from the other night was somehow presented to you on a platter, and yet…

“I don’t think I’m anything Geralt can’t handle on his own,” you replied, aware this was your call and no one else's.

With the sleeping arrangements out of the way, you spent the next hour or so enjoying stories of training and fighting. If your ears didn’t deceive you, several of their completed jobs seemed to include gratitude delivered by way of sexual favors, sometimes alone, sometimes together. They were cheeky and sly with the language, but the innuendos were there and you couldn’t stop yourself from thinking about it. 

You waived off another round of ale and professed you’d much rather find a tub of warm water to sink into for a bit. Geralt agreed and you both said your goodnights to Lambert.

Settled into the room, you were surprised to find there really was a wooden tub full of tepid water. A large cauldron hung over a roaring fire and you watched as Geralt used a rudimentary crane-like contraption to hoist the pot over the tub and dump its boiling contents into the water below.

“It’ll warm the water for a bit, so you should take advantage now, if you were serious.”

“It doesn’t look like there’s room for both of us,” you mentioned with a little sadness.

“We can take turns, just don’t stay in too long,” he replied with a mischievous smirk. “Do you need any help with your garments?”

With your corset already removed, all that remained was to unlace the heavy woolen skirt and lift the flowing linen gown underneath it over your head. Geralt was a huge help nevertheless and your body shivered as you imagined his fingers tracing every inch of you, not just your waist or the lucky bits of leg that received his touch as he bent to grab the hem of your dress.

He held your hand as you stepped into the tub and sat down, knees bent against your chest. How would he ever manage to fit himself in here? you thought. While you swirled the water around you, you watched as he turned away to unbuckle his leathers and disrobe as well. You were right about his ass. 

You smiled a little to yourself at how comfortable getting naked with him was and then you smiled wider when he turned to face you once again, approaching you in all his glory and settling down onto a stool next to the tub with a washcloth in his hand.

Geralt offered to help you wash off, then dunked his hand into the water when you accepted. He ran the soft rag along your back, down your arms, across your chest. He took a few moments to run the soaked cloth along his body as well when the water began to cool much faster than you’d hoped, leaving no opportunity for him to sit in the tub himself. When he “dropped” the rag while dipping it back in the water for another pass, he didn’t hesitate to reach deeper into the tub, fingers searching the bottom for the cloth but finding your bottom instead. He leaned forward to complete the kiss you had asked for with a lick of your lips and smiled into your gasp when his fingers made their way between your legs.

“You know,” he started after pulling away from your hungry mouth, “I do feel as if I owe you a bit of gratitude myself.”

“Why, whatever do you mean, Geralt?” you gently taunted with a fake bit of naivete.

“You were the hero tonight. You deserve a reward.” He stood from the stool, exposing his hardening length, and helped you to stand.

“And will you be my reward?” you purred, clasping your arms around his neck as he lifted you out of the tub.

“Gladly,” he replied, slipping his hands eagerly down your side body and around your thighs to wrap your legs around his waist. He captured your mouth again with a searing kiss as he walked toward the bed and deposited you on your back, legs splayed wide and waiting for him.

“Maybe you could finish what you started.”

He dove to the bed next to you and cupped your cunt with a rather large hand.

“This is just the beginning,” he promised as he bent two fingers and slipped them inside. He watched your face with intent as he pumped his fingers in and out, teasing more and more slick from deep inside you. He kissed you when he added a third finger, swallowing the moan that ripped from your throat. 

You couldn’t control your hips if you wanted to, bucking up into his hand, trying to pull him in deeper, trying to find the grind that would let you explode. His lips on your jawline, his tongue on your neck, kisses on your collarbone before he nuzzled into you and whispered how good you fucking smelled from here already. All these words of praise and touches of desire sent you right over the edge with an urgent need to crawl back up and do it again.

He must have been expecting you to take some time to recover because he was off guard when you pushed at his shoulder and sent him to his back so you could sit up and swing your legs over his. Settled on his thighs with an eye toward his very large erection, you smiled and made clear your intentions.

“I want you, Geralt. All of you.”

“However you’d like,” he grinned back, one arm tucked behind his head and the other reaching to stroke himself. 

“Fuuuuuuuhhhck,” you moaned, watching how he handled himself, sure saliva was probably dripping from the side of your mouth. “Kinda like that.”

You scooted back down his legs and leaned forward, eager to let him feed you the cock he was keeping hard for you. As with every other host, it was going to be impossible to take him all the way, but you were going to give your best effort on the parts you could reach. His hand motion shortened as your mouth took over servicing the head and a few inches of length. You let your tongue swirl around the tip and dripped saliva from your mouth to give both of you something to slide over. 

Your pussy was still yearning for touch and since you didn’t need your own hands for the blowjob, you let one travel down your body and between your legs to trace along your folds. You rubbed two fingers over your sensitive clit, curling to dip them into your warm, wet opening a few times before returning to focus attention at the nub. 

“I can help with that, if you’d like,” Geralt grunted breathlessly, the arm behind his neck reaching now for your body, prodding you to turn. While you continued to lave over Geralt’s prodigious member, you crawled around to find your knees on either side of his head and when you felt his hand smooth over your ass, you didn’t resist the pull.  

You moaned around the cock in your throat while Geralt wrapped his lips around your pussy and licked his way into your slit. Eventually, he let go of his dick and wrapped both hands around your thighs, holding you close against his face and lapping in tandem with the bob of your head.

On more than one occasion you found you could not concentrate effectively on the head you were giving, since the head you were receiving was so mind blowing. You found you had to lift your mouth off his cock and beg for more, scream for him to make you come. When he did, you were able to return to pleasuring him, since he didn’t seem to be in any kind of hurry to move you away. Instead, it was as if he were playing a game called ‘how many times can you come on this tongue.’

It became abundantly clear that you were never going to be able to return the favor. Geralt was not interested in coming down your throat, so when you felt like you couldn’t handle one more tender lick, one more urgent suckle, one more flick of the tip of his tongue on your sensitive pearl, you begged off. Pleaded for mercy.

“I’m not done,” he called from the other end of the bed. “I still owe you my gratitude.”

You peeled yourself reluctantly away from his cock and eased yourself around again, to lay alongside him, chest heaving and thighs shaking.

“I can’t fathom how one Krak deserves more than you’ve already given, but I’ll gladly take it, if only you’ll let me rest a moment.” You draped an arm over his chest and drifted your fingers through the dusting of hair you found. 

“Perhaps some water?” he offered, reaching for a cup and the pitcher by the bedside. You shared the cool liquid, quenching one thirst while another still burned hot and needy. 

“How long can you last? Surely I’m not that bad at oral.”

His laugh was so bright, it was as if the room was suddenly aglow.

“You are excellent at that. I just have a lot of practice not letting go until I’m sure my partner has reached the absolute peak. It’s a point of pride.”

He wasn’t arrogant about it, just matter of fact. He was here to serve. 

“What if we simply waited until you were ready again? Surely that wouldn’t take forever.” You trailed your fingers down his chest, through the patch of hair at his abdomen, and onto his still rock hard length. Feeling how firm he was, letting your hand trace the veins, your thumb nudging the helmet of the head, you couldn’t help but be hungry for him again.

You found yourself straddling his thighs once more, eyeing his cock, begging for him to fuck you now.

“Do they have condoms in this time, wherever we are?” If an ancient Greek labyrinth had condoms, surely this medieval inn had them, too. You were still in the hotel after all. He chuckled and nodded toward the nightstand, where you found a plain wooden box that revealed what you were after when opened.

Geralt made to take the packet from you, but you resisted. “Allow me, please.”

You tore open the package and worked the rubber onto the tip, then rolled the sides down and checked the fit. You let him make a final adjustment, but when he leaned up as if to roll you over, you protested.

“I’m good right here,” you purred, grabbing ahold of his sheathed cock and lifting up to position yourself right above him. You set him at your entrance, still dripping from your several orgasms, and lowered yourself good and slow. You were getting used to the size of these men, but that didn’t mean the start didn’t require some care.

Your eyes closed almost involuntarily once you’d taken him to the hilt and you sat motionless for a moment, feeling your core loosen around him. You began a steady pulse, up and down, as you opened your eyes to see him staring up at you with desire. He rested his hands on your hips, neither speeding you up nor slowing you down, just feeling the motion, feeling you. 

After a few more strokes, you grabbed his hands and slid them up your body, pressing the palms of his hands against your breasts and tossing your head back at the sensation. He was more than willing to continue cupping and squeezing without your guidance which allowed you to set your hands on his thighs behind you, providing even more leverage for your rise and fall. Now you sped up. 

“Fuck, Geralt, this feels so good,” you cried out.

“I can make it better,” he countered, slipping his hands around your ribs and pulling you forward, chest to chest as he captured your lips once more. With his hands firmly holding your head in place, he began to buck up into you and when it seemed like it was going to be to much, he let his hands drift down your back and onto your hips again, to hold you place while he set a punishing pace, thrusting ever harder and deeper into your pulsing core until he finally exploded with a roar. It wasn’t your peak, but you weren’t complaining in the least. He’d fucked you through several tiny orgasms, each ebbing and flowing with ease. If there was nothing more, no additional gratitude the rest of the night, you’d be just fine.

But he was having none of it. He lifted you off and laid you to the side, urging you back against the head of the bed and lifting the covers for you to climb under. Once you were comfy, he left the bed to deal with the condom removal, grabbing an apple and knife from his bag on the way back. You sat and conversed while he fed you thin slices of sweet fruit, taking his own bites after every third for you.

Geralt was easy to talk to. Not overly wordy, but happy to chat nonetheless. Although you wanted to ask questions about the hotel, you knew it would be wildly inappropriate so you stuck with the script for the scene. What would it take to clear the rest of the Kraks? How dangerous would it have been had he gone alone? What’s the most danger he’d ever gotten into? The most fun? How often, exactly, had he and Lambert been thanked simultaneously?

That question was designed to reignite the passion in the room. You weren’t disappointed. The mere telling of the experiences got him rock hard again and it was with delight that you let him take the lead the rest of the evening. Once he’d donned another condom after feasting on your pussy one more time, he took you on your back, legs wrapped around his waist so he could grab at them when he needed to open you wider or lift your leg over his shoulder to find that one final deep spot that had you panting his name and coming hard around him. He took one more lingering kiss, then pulled out and tidied up, joining you back under the covers for a final round of pillow talk before turning in for the night.

Somehow, with the knowledge that the physical part of the evening was over, the air in the room changed and the conversation did as well. He wasn’t overly concerned with keeping the topics to the scene, but you found yourself second guessing if you should ask anything at all about Walter. It seemed rude, even though Mike had been completely open about it. This stay wasn’t that one. 

You’d booked an overnight and Geralt hadn’t needed to bend time for you, if that was even something he could do, so you had no direct in with a question about his possible gifts. You could maybe ask why Lambert had called him Wolf, since they were both from the same school. But in the end it was Geralt who brought up Walter, without realizing what he was doing.

“I lucked into this spot. The hotel had just lost one of their best hosts, and the guy was booked solid weeks out. They’re still trying to find another werewolf to take his room, but in the meantime they contacted me and set up this level.”

“How did they find out about you?” you asked, trying to keep your heart rate from spiking at the hint of information about Walter.

“The way they find out about any of us, I suppose. Word of mouth.”

“Do you know what happened to him? The guy before you?” You didn’t think you were holding your breath, but Geralt’s answer told you otherwise.

“Not a clue. I try not to get caught up in the gossip. Hey, are you alright? You look like you’re about to faint. That’s a real skill since you’re already laying down.”

You tried to take a breath and laugh it off at the same time, asking your next question with a feigned indifference. “There’s gossip in this hotel?”

Geralt’s laugh was infectious. “There’s gossip at every hotel, but this one's something else. I think the vampire is the ring leader. I try to stay away from it. Keep my head down. Take care of my guests. And I shouldn't have even said that. Please forgive me.”

It was obvious he wasn't going to give up much more information, if he even knew anything specific to begin with. You tried to stifle a yawn, but Geralt noticed and stood up to blow out the candles illuminating the room, leaving one small oil lamp burning. When he returned to bed, you curled up into his warmth. You felt a little bad about imagining it was Walt you were snuggled next to, but it didn’t stop you from drifting asleep with a smile on your face.

You opened your messaging app as you were about to step out of the cafe where you’d gone for a latte the next morning after dropping your bag at home.

sendmeanangel: you’ll never guess who showed up to get coffee this morning 

Everything HC Taglist: (as always, let me know if you want on or off)

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if you asked and aren't here, Tumblr won’t let me tag you. Sorry!

[the-roo-too]

Hi!! Can I request fluffy alphabets for Yunjin? Thank you💗

candy -> huh yunjin ver

aka the fluff alphabet

admiration (what does she absolutely adore about you)- if you are at least the tiniest bit a musical person, she deffo loves to jam out with you. will force you to try and compose with her probably, even if you only know two chords on the guitar

body (what’s her favourite body part of yours)- yunjin is a hair girlie to me, she likes to play with it—give you cute hair styles if it’s long or just put pretty charms in it if it’s short!

cuddling (how she likes to cuddle)- big spoon ☝️🤓 might fight you for it (secretly loves being the little spoon tho)

dates (what’s her ideal date)- i’m thinking binging some movies late at night (like the greatest showman) and singing your hearts out 🏳️‍🌈

emotions (how does she express her emotions around you)- girlie is an open book around you. musically gifted people are usually very connected with their emotions (and yunjin did go to music school so..)

family (does she want one)- i kinda have mixed feeling about this one. maybe later in life when you’ve both settled down? she doesn’t really give me the kids vibe tho

gifts (what about gift giving)- would absolutely compose an either short ass piece or perform a long ass opera for you and would force you to listen to it 🎀🎀

holding hands (does she like to hold hands)- yes! absolutely! also smooches your hand. i feel like yunjin carries around three different hand creams. also the type to hand you a fruit scented cream in the middle of june and say “it’s fruity, like you.”

injuries (what would she do if you got hurt)- with all due respect, she wouldn’t know what to do 😭 call chaewon? tell manager? order take out?

jokes (does she like to joke around)- yes. as i said, fruity cream, fruity you.

kisses (how does she like to kiss you)- either smooches your face or full on make out session, i don’t make the rules ✊

love (what’s her love language)- passive aggressive affection. you’re grumpy in the morning? too bad, you’re still listening to taylor swift’s whole discography with her

memory (what’s her favourite memory together)- meeting you for the first time! say you two met in a coffee shop while yunjin had a break between rehearsals. the moment your eyes made contact she was doomed lol

nighttime (how does sleeping with her look like)- yunjin 100% steals the blankets. wraps herself in a burrito and you will NOT get them unless she cuddles you close and lets you inside the cocoon

oddity (what’s one quirky thing about her)- to be fair opera singing is kinda weird. like imagine you’re coming home late and night and you whisper shout a soft “yunjin! are you awake?” and she responds with a “HEREEE MY LOVEEEEE” sung loudly 🗣️

pet names (what does she like to call you)- baby girl, with a lip bite. but like “baby gowrlllllll 🫦🫦🫦🫦”

quality time (how does she like to spend time with you)- every time spent with you is quality time for her (and she will rizz you up while saying that)

rush (does she rush into things)- you’re living together by the second week of you dating

secrets (how open is she with you)- open book ‼️‼️ wanna know her father’s dead cat’s name? or what colour was chaewon face when she puked after drinking spilled milk thinking it was yoghurt?

time (how long did it take her to confess)- going with the idea that she saw you at a coffee shop, she would visit that exact place for a straight up week until she saw you again and then shoot her shot 💀

upset (what’s her reaction when you’re upset)- you’re probably upset after a fight, so then she’s upset too. if that’s not the case, if you yell at her because you’re upset, then yunjin will because upset too lol. she’s not the type to apologise first so buckle up!

visibility (is she afraid of the public opinion)- nah. you remember that one post she made for pride some time ago? public opinion’s got nothing on her

warrior (how often do you fight)- i actually thing you might fight quite a lot… 💀 because of the rushing thing. when you two hit like a two year mark or sum, it gets better. but the rushed relationship gets kinda bumpy at first.

x-ray (is she able to read you)- even if you’re not as much of an open book as yunjin is, i think she makes it her goal to know what you’re thinking at all times. like a little personal challenge

yes (how would she propose to you)- most sappy way possible, would take you to a beach and arrange for her members to blindfold you and shit. lead you down to the shore and when you feel the cold water wetting your shoes, that’s when she drops on one knee (yes, in the water) while eunchae takes off the blindfold lol

zen (what makes her feel calm)- cuddles! singing! movies! just casual romantic shit. i said she would say sorry first but she might force you to cuddle her in the middle of the night even if you two just had a massive fight

part of [the fluff series]

[shenanigans-and-imagines]

Since you named it in the Halsin x Ace!tav headcanons, now please do also gale because I'm curious!

- a very ace ⚙️

Alright, by popular(ish) demand:

How Ace!Tav Reacts When They Realize Gale is Into Them

An expansion on this headcanon: Ace!Tav's Reaction to Halsin Propositioning Them

Based on: Astarion x Ace!Tav Masterlist

Okay, now I feel bad because I feel like I've thrown my man Gale under the bus for this, but it really isn't his fault, just a lot of miscommunication

This one is a slower build since Gale is just in the party longer and it's just how he roles

Ace!Tav and Gale form a connection fairly early on

Tav knows they're not the most book smart and so does regularly ask Gale for his input (or to read them something without asking any questions)

Gale is happy to be useful, and just so thrilled to have somebody beside his cat who will listen

This is probably where the miscommunication begins

Gale takes their active listening, and ability to recount the information he taught them as a sign of deeper interest while Tav actively listens because that's just what they do

They're a bard who never learned how to read, listening is the only way they learn anything, plus they have a memory like steel trap

This all comes to a head at the tiefling party

Astarion approaches Tav about having a "night of passion" which Tav turns down because it's obviously not their thing, and they don't really want to have that conversation with Astarion; why spoil a good thing (read I Want I All for more on that subject)

And then Gale says he wants to show them how to experience the weave later that evening and so, they decide to go with him

Tav knows they're in touch with the weave through their music, but never fully understood why or how, only that it works, so to have Gale show them is an experience they can't pass up

Besides, they know how passionate he is about it, who would they be to deny him

So, Gale shows them the weave and when he asks them to picture the concept of harmony, what they imagine is music, the way it fills their body and brings them peace; melody strumming not just through their ears but their whole body into their soul

It's an intimate sensation, one they haven't been able to express with words and for a moment Gale feels it

He tells them he feels like he owes them an apology for being at bit...well, dismissive of their form of magic, it's truly beautiful

And then Tav sees it, a flash of his own mind, and the anticipation of a kiss

That snaps them right out of it, letting the weave disappear around them

Gale, realizing what they saw, is quick to apologize but the moment is ruined and the pair of them quickly make their way back to their own tents to wallow and over think

Tav feels unbelievably guilty, not helped by Astarion's comments the next morning

Astarion isn't jealous, why would he be? But he can't help but ask what Tav and the wizard got up to, using every teasing innuendo he can think of

Tav finally snaps and tells him nothing happened and that they need to talk to Gale

Gale has been properly wallowing and keeping unnaturally silent until Tav pulls him aside to talk

Gale once again apologizes, but he really did think there was a connection between the two of them

He knows he's not much of a wizard these days and he's also very well aware that there is something going on between them and Astarion, but he did hope...well, no point in that is there

Tav feels even more guilty, but is quick to assure him he did nothing wrong, they just don't see him that way

In truth, what they really want, in the deepest part of their hearts, is to be his friend; to be honest, they don't have that many

Gale tells them, "Somehow I doubt that. I can't imagine you being lonely"

Tav only gives him a sad smile, saying "what can I say, I contain multitudes"

Gale sees it then, that they are, in fact, lonely and for a moment sees it in himself; that maybe his feelings he started to develop really do come from that same place of loneliness

Tav watches him carefully asking, "have I hurt you terribly?"

Gale shakes his head, "just a bit bruised, nothing that won't heal. Admittedly, I think it's more my ego than my heart"

He assures them that he does value their friendship, he just might need a minute to recover

He also tells them that whoever they do give their heart to better know how valuable it truly is

It does take Gale a little time to come back to himself, but eventually he's able to become a true friend to Tav with none of the remaining awkwardness

He also makes a point to assure Astarion of the same thing after he senses the vampire glare one too many daggers into his back

As much fun as it is to tease Astarion, he doesn't want to have to sleep with one eye open, if he can help it

[mcdonaldsnumberone]

LOVE ME HARDER!

you swear your favorite color has nothing to do with kaiser. but unluckily for you, the boy’s fallen madly in love with you and has somehow convinced himself that he can connect the dots to make you fall madly in love with him. when you meet his flirting with a tough front though, kaiser has a secret weapon up his sleeve (or under his uniform collar).

gender neutral reader

content warning(s): reader’s favorite color is blue, kaiser’s tattoo isn’t super visible with his uniform in this fic

You loved blue.

You still do. And for the foreseeable future, you weren’t going to ever stop loving the color. It was a color so dear and special to you, and as much as you loved all the other colors, there was something indescribable about the blue hue.

It was everywhere. The color of the sky. The ocean. The small Google Docs icon while you scribbled down notes on your computer. A stray car in the distance while you crossed the road. It was the color of loyalty and knowledge, the cool tones even embodying the mystifying feeling of melancholy. And, if you allowed yourself to get a little pretentious and philosophical, probably the color of the universe. 

What a dignified color. You would never stop loving blue. Not ever. Certainly not now. And you would never extinguish your love of the color because of a man.

But boy, was someone making it difficult.

You always heard him before you saw him: the rumble of footsteps, Ness gushing incoherent praise, the shrill trill of German words hanging in the air. Like an overture before a grand opera, except those thirty seconds were the only prep time you’d get to turn on your heel and book it out of there if you didn’t want to say hello to your biggest headache.

“Oh, daaaarling! There you are! Hey- Don’t run away!”

An outstretched pair of arms materialized on either side of your body, and you let out a loud yelp before you were pulled backwards into a tight hug. You screeched like a feral cat, clawing helplessly at the air while a loud haughty laugh rang out against your eardrums.

It was only when you turned around that the sense of hearing gave out to the sense of sight. Beautiful strands of blond-blue hair swept across your eyes, the twinkle of his golden locks not too unlike the catlike gleam in his pupils. Speaking of his eyes, you hated the stupid bastard for how much blue he had on him and more importantly, how good it looked. Even the smug azure of his crinkled eyes made you stop breathing for just a split second, and your lips parted unconsciously as your hatred momentarily dissipated into wonder at the delicate hue.

“Staring at me? Awwwww, do you think I’m handsome? Of course you do. You wouldn't be so starstruck otherwise,” he chuckled. You instantly snapped out of your stupor, and you twisted your face into a disgusted frown.

“Take your hands off of me, you idiot,” you snarled. “I’m not in the mood to talk to you.”

“Oh? Perfect. I think that’s perfect timing to talk to you.” Kaiser kept one arm slung firmly over your shoulders, expertly placing himself at your side. You dug your heels into the ground and kept your place whenever he tried to edge you closer to his torso, egging you to relax into his touch. “Busy being a little color nerd again? I think it’s adorable that you’d pick your favorite color after me-”

“-I did not pick my favorite color after you,” you huffed. You crossed your arms, and you glared directly up at him (this time, you took extra care not to get lost in his eyes). “Do you really think I don’t have a personality or something? To pick a favorite color after a man?”

He shrugged. “Hey, I’m a pretty charming guy, if I do say so myself. Just now, you couldn’t keep your eyes off of me. I’d say I wear the color well. Say, if I swapped my red eyeliner out for a blue one, would that make you stare at me even more?”

You wanted to push him off, but you knew better than to engage a professional athlete in a half-wrestle-half-run-for-your-life-thing. “In your dreams. You’re an atrocious mix of colors.”

“Sure.” He easily brushed your words off. He broke out into his usual smug grin, chuckling at you as if he were a cat toying with a mouse. If he could, you swore that he’d gobble you up in one bite and leave no crumbs. “But I’d say blue is totally my color.”

Red hot annoyance flooded your body. This was so unlike you, to be moved to such anger that you’d be thinking of any color other than your favorite cyan hue, but something about this man made you want to beat him to a bloody pulp until he truly was nothing more than a mix of crimson and black and white broken bones. 

“Blue is MY color!” You grumbled. “I liked it even before I met you! Hell, I probably understand it better than you do! Dipping your hair in Kool-Aid and being born with blue eyes doesn’t automatically make blue your color! It’s my favorite color, and me liking it has nothing to do with you! Not everything revolves around you, Kaiser!”

You fumed at him, having blurted out all of the tension mounting inside of your chest. You stood there, wanting to claw off the weight of his arm across your shoulders. You wondered if Kaiser would yell back at you, if those beautiful sapphire eyes of his would narrow into small slits before he’d wind up for the pounce, if he truly would swallow you up into a void of blue nothingness just to prove you wrong.

But instead he threw his head back, and he laughed heartily.

“You’re too funny for your own good.” He pretended to wipe a tear from his eye with his other hand, and he barely held himself together long enough to look at you. “The world? Revolve around me? Maybe to all those other stupid commoners. Those brainless fools need a stunning star to guide them. To give them any purpose in life.”

You grimaced, skin crawling with disdain as he yanked you closer. His free hand caressed the outline of your cheeks and jaw, and you let out a small “eep!” as he hooked his fingers under your chin to gingerly lift your face to meet his. You held your breath as the German prodigy leaned in, until the silhouette of his peach-pink lips were much too close to your mouth for your liking.

“But, darling… Oh, my sweet, stupid darling…” His voice was far too smooth for your own liking. Like the lining of a regal blue mink-fur lined cape, the kind you’d see in a 1700s painting of a king, the edge you get from swallowing down a mouthful of ice water. He looked too pleased with himself, having you ensnared perfectly in his arms like this. The thick tension that hung between the two of you felt like poisoned honey, and he shook his head at you mockingly. “If anyone were to pay attention closely, they’d know that the script is much more different for you than it is for those everyday fools.”

“Don’t lump me in your weird fantasy.” You blinked at him defiantly. He pursed his lips slightly, but Kaiser didn’t waver even once. 

“All I want to say is that there’s nothing wrong in admiring beautiful things. If you like blue that much, nothing wrong with admiring the blue on me, is there? It’s unhealthy to deny yourself the things that you love so much.” He let you go finally, and you practically leapt out away from him. “If you don’t want to throw yourself at my feet and beg to play the role of my dedicated love interest, that’s fine too! Although, I don’t see why you wouldn’t want to. Anyone would be honored to have my attention the way you do.”

“You’re a self-centered prick. I don’t want to give you any more attention than what I’m already wasting on you.”

“That’s what I’m saying! If you let down your high walls and properly let yourself admire me for the beautiful, charming, handsome guy I am, then it wouldn’t be a waste of your time.” He expertly flicked his hair over his shoulder, winking at you as some of the strands tumbled down his collarbones and back. As atrocious of a haircut as it was, you did have to admit that the color of his weird gradient was very pleasing to your eyes.

But you’d rather eat knives than admit it out loud. 

“You’ll have to try harder than that. Anyone can dye hair,” you muttered, thoroughly unconvinced. “And before you ask, I’m not interested in staring at your eyes either. Blue eyes mean nothing to me. And I can always go buy color contacts off the internet and stare at those instead if I really want to.”

“Boo! That’s so boring! Wouldn’t you want a real living person? Someone with personality?” He pouted.

You rolled your own eyes. “Yeah. Someone that doesn’t have a stick stuck up their ass.”

Kaiser pressed his lips into a line, suddenly lost in heavy thought. He knew your patience was already running thin with him, and while it was frustrating that the typical antics he’d lavish onto his fans wasn’t netting him the reaction he wanted from you, it still thrilled him the same. You were so tough to crack! He knew deep down that you had some heart for him and that you loved admiring beautiful things! And was he not the most beautiful thing of them all? He was skilled, talented, the kind of guy anyone should be flattered to have. All he needed was to convince you with something unique, something that no other groupie or fan of his couldn’t have, and maybe that would be the key to luring you over.

To turn that burning red hatred of yours into a calm, placated blue interest.

“Well, what if I give you something truly special then? If I could show you something that you have to admit is beautiful, would you admire me then?” He offered tentatively. You sniffed, keeping your head held high, but he took your silence to mean that it wasn’t a complete refusal.

He broke out into the biggest grin you had ever seen. Your confidence wavered slightly at his smug smirk, and nervousness prickled over your skin. You held your breath as Kaiser slowly raised his hand to his neck. Two fingers hooked onto the golden collar of his Bastard Munchen uniform, which covered a generous portion of his neck.

He yanked down. 

A flash of deep, royal blue stunned your vision, and your eyes instinctively widened. Kaiser tilted his neck to the opposite side, making sure you could catch a proper glimpse at the part of his throat that was normally concealed by his uniform. You felt like something inside of your brain had violently hit the brakes the moment the color hit your eyes. 

Roses.

Beautiful, beautiful blue roses. 

You’re automatically entranced by them. They’re tattoos, each expertly painted on his skin with a careful hand. The black outline makes the rich hues pop even more against his body, and while you tiptoe forward to catch a better view, you can only make out the better part of one of the bigger roses. The rest are covered by his uniform, and you can see the hint of inked thorns traveling away from the flowers and towards his arm. 

Kaiser instantly caught the shift in energy from you. He wisely kept his mouth shut, but some prideful part of him was celebrating inwardly. He let you step closer to admire the handiwork on his body, your curiosity delighting him to no ends.

You wanted to touch them. To touch him. Oh, you could imagine the feeling of soft rose petals under your fingertips while you were utterly mesmerized by his tattoo, almost forgetting that it was just an inked drawing rather than real flowers.

“Well? Isn’t it lovely?” 

You flinched, snapping back to life. Dumbfounded, you were at a loss for words. It was completely unlike you to not have some kind of mean comeback to snark at him with, but the secret weapon Kaiser had on hand was too much. His tattoo had overwhelmed you in a heartbeat, the artistic touch only making you want to see it again.

But unfortunately for you, he adjusted his uniform back into its regular position with a cruel smile. “See? I knew you’d like it. Do you want to look at it again? Oh, I know you do. C’mon, tell me. Tell me you want to see it again. It’s not like I’m going to refuse.”

You bit the inside of your cheek, and very hesitantly, you swallowed back your pride. “Can… Can I see your tattoo again?”

“With pleasure, darling.” He cooed. He paused for a moment, and he pulled you closer towards him. You gulped nervously when he peered down at you, clearly savoring the victory he had earned by pulling wool (or in this case, a lovely tattoo) over your eyes. 

“But why don’t I take you to my room instead? I’ll take off my shirt for you. That way you can see the entire thing. And then you can fawn over me properly. You just said you wanted to see my tattoo again. Those pretty roses,” he leaned in, tempting you over and over with the fleeting memory, “Those pretty, pretty roses that are in your absolute favorite color.”

You were torn, and Kaiser reveled in that tormented expression of yours.

He held his hand out. “No need to be shy. Let me show you all sorts of beautiful blue things, my darling.”

x