#woooo maybe final part!!

[lee-laurent]

Screaming 'I Love You' At the Top of My Lungs - Luke Hughes

Summary: Olivia (Oli) Jones grows up with Luke Hughes.

content: angst, fluff, kissing, make out session, mentions of sex but no smut, relationships, growing up, puberty, underage drinking

wc: 8.2k

notes: this one has been chilling in a word doc for almost a year now, unfinished... so here we are! enjoy!!

p.s.: part 6 of done trying is in the works for all the fans out there ;)

Emily Jones had been thrilled when the lake house next to theirs had been purchased by a family. It finally meant that her daughter, Olivia, would have someone her age to spend time with over the summer. She was even more thrilled when she and her husband became friends with the parents, Ellen and Jim. This newly formed friendship quickly created a tradition of spending every summer together, growing up together, and forming a bond that would last a lifetime.

~~

The sun was high in the sky, casting a soft glow over the lake as Luke and Olivia splashed at the edge of the dock. At ten years old, they were inseperable, spending their days swimming, racing, and inventing games that only made sense to them. Today's grand plan was to catch the biggest fish in the lake- a challenge they'd taken seriously for maybe ten minutes.

Jack and Quinn were further down the dockl, attempting to escape the craziness of their younger brother and his best friend. They had their own fishing lines in the water, but their focus was more on the competition than the younger two.

"Luke, you're scaring all the fish away!" Jack complained, glancing over his shoulder as Luke and Olivia chased each other, laughing loudly.

Quinn nodded in agreement, annoyance clear on his face. "Yeah, why don't you go play somewhere else? We're actually trying to fish here."

Luke, undeterred by his brothers' grumbling, grinned at Olivia. "Ignore them. They're just mad 'cause we're going to catch the biggest fish.

Olivia giggled, "Let's show them how it's done, Lu!"

The two of them raced to the end of the dock, their feet dangling over the water, and cast their lines. Jack and Quinn exchanged an eye roll but couldn't help watching as the younger pair got to work.

Minutes ticked up in silence, and just as Jack thought that his peace had returned, Luke jumped up, almost falling into the water. "I got one!" he exclaimed.

Quinn groaned, watching his brother intently. "Here we go..."

Olivia jumped up, her enthusiasm only adding to the noise. "You got it, Luke! Woooo! Go Lu!"

Luke finally pulled it up-- a small, wriggling fish that flopped wildly at the end of his line. He beamed with pride, holding it up for everyone to see.

"See? Told you we'd catch one first!"

Jack and Quinn exchanged a look, half-amused, half-exasperated. "Congratulations," Jack said dryly. "Now can you please be quiet?"

Olivia stuck her tongue out at the older boys, unfazed by their lack of enthusiasm. "You're just jealous, Jacky."

"Whatever you say, Oli."

As the two little fishers planned their next big catch, the older boys sighed in unison, dreading the rest of the summer. But deep down, they these moments-- no matter how annoying-- would become part of the memories that formed their childhoods.

~~

The Michigan sun was bright as ever, but the atmosphere around the house had shifted. At thirteen, Luke Hughes and Olivia Jones had begun to outgrow some of their childhood games, but their bond remained as strong as ever. This summer, though, things were a bit different. Jack had brought his friends, Trevor and Cole, to the lake house for the first time, and their presence quickly added a new dynamic to the house.

Luke watched with irritation as Olivia, his partner in crime, seemed unusually interested in the new arrivals. Especially Trevor. She'd giggle at all his jokes, blush when he looked her way, and do everything she could to be near him. It didn't make any sense to Luke.

It was early afternoon, and the group was gathered by the lake, lounging on the end of dock, soaking up the sun. Trevor was showing off, talking about a trick he could do while wakesurfing, while Olivia hung on his every word.

"Why are you so into him?" Luke asked, his voice laced with frustration. He had finally pulled Olivia away from Trevor, getting some time to sit alone with his best friend.

Oli blushed, brushing her hair behind her ear. "He's cool, Luke. Don't you think so?"

Luke frowned, chucking a stone into the water. "He's just a guy. I don't get what's so special about him."

She shrugged, her eyes drifting back to Trevor, who was now laughing with Jack and Cole. "You wouldn't understand."

Trevor caught her gaze and flashed her a smile, which only made Olivia's cheeks redden further. Luke rolled his eyes, feeling a strange, unwelcome pang in his chest. He was used to having Oli's full attention, and now she was distracted-- by some older guy who didn't even notice her in the way she wanted.

Jack, having noticed his little brother's sour mood, followed Luke into the kitchen.

"Hey, Moose, you jealous or something?"

Luke shot him a glare. "Of what? Trevor? No way."

Jack chuckled, ruffling Luke's hair. "Don't worry, Moosey. She'll get over it. Trev isn't interested."

Luke wanted to snap back, but he just crossed his arms over his chest, staring out the window at the lake. He couldn't quite put his feelings into words, but he knew one thing: he didn't like this change, not one bit.

Even as the group gathered around the firepit, Olivia sat closer to Trevor than to Luke. She always sat next to Luke! Luke watched from across the flames, feeling a simmering of annoyance. It wasn't like Olivia to act like this, and it bothered him way more than he wanted to admit.

Why did he feel like this?

~~

Olivia had never been so excited for a trip to the lake house. She was 15 and finally had her driving permit. She was so eager to show off her new found freedom to her best friend. Her parents had given her permission to drive around the small neighbourhood that their lake house was located in. The moment she arrived, she practically dragged Luke to the driveway where her parents' car was parked, keys in hand, her eyes shining with excitement.

"Come on, Lu! Let's go for a drive," she urged, not giving him a chance to protest.

Luke hestitated for a second, glancing at the car. "Are you sure you're ready for this?" he teased, though he was already following her.

Olivia rolled her eyes, grinning brightly. "I've been practicing for months. Don't worry-- I've got this."

They climbed into the car, and Olivia adjusted the seat and mirrors with exaggerated care. Luke couldn't help but smirk at her seriousness, but he didn't say anything. As she started the engine and pulled out of the driveway, he felt both excitement and nervousness. This was new territory for both of them, and it felt oddly significant.

The road around the lake waws quiet, bordered by tall trees that cast shadows on the asphalt. Olivia kept both hands firmly on the wheel, her brow furrowed in concentration as she navigated the path. Luke found himself sneaking glances at her, noticing how grown up she looked while driving.

"You're really into this driving thing, huh?" he asked, keeping his tone light.

"Are you kidding? It's freedom, Lu! We can go anywhere, do anything... well, not really. But you get the idea," Oli replied, flashing him a grin before turning her eyes back to the street.

Luke nodded, though he wasn't really listening. He couldn't quite shake the feeling that this was more than just a drive. There was something about the way she looked at him, the way she drove with such confidence-- it all felt... different. And he wasn't sure he liked how it made him feel.

They approached a sharp curve in the road, Olivia bit her lip in concentration, turning the wheel with a bit too much speed. The car swerved, and for a split second, Luke's heart leaped into his throat. His hand shot out, gripping the edge of his seat as he tried to steady himself.

"Olivia-!"

"I've got it!" she said quickly, her voice a little higher than normal. She corrected the wheel, and the car straightened out, but they were both still a little shaken.

"Maybe I should slow down a bit," Olivia admitted, still laughing.''

"Maybe," Luke agreed, his heart thundering against his chest.

When they finally returned to the lake house, the sun was beginning to set, casting a warm glow over the water. Olivia parked the car, turning to Luke with a satisfied grin. "Told you I could do it."

"Yeah, you did good," Luke said.

Later that night, as he lay in bed staring at the ceiling, Luke found himself replaying the day over and over in his mind. Olivia's laughter, her excitement-- it was all stuck in his head, and for the first time, he couldn't just brush it off.

What was happening to him? Why did he feel this way?

The summer felt different now, and Luke wasn't sure he was ready for it.

~~

The following day, Luke and Olivia found themselves alone at the lake houses, the others having gone into town to grocery shop. It wasn't unusual for them to spend time together, just the two of them (obviously), but today it felt different-- charged with an unspoken tension neither could quite name.

"Want to go down to the dock?" Oli suggested, trying to keep things normal, though she could feel the shift in the air.

"Sure," Luke agreed, grabbing a couple of towels and a cooler of drinks as they headed outside.

They settled onto the dock, dangling their feet in the water. The familiar sounds of the lake-- water lapping at the shore, birds calling from the tall trees-- usually felt comforting, but today, Luke couldn't shake the nervous energy buzzing inside him.

They sat in companionable silence for a while, sipping on cold sodas and watching the water hit against the dock. But it wasn't long before Olivia broke it.

"Luke," she began hesitantly, her voice softer than normal, "d'you ever think about... growing up? Like, how things are changing?"

Luke turned to her, surprised by her question. "What do you mean?"

"I don't know," she shrugged, fidgeting with the hem of her shorts. "It's just... we're not kids anymore. Y'know? It feels like everything is different, even though we're still here, doing the same things."

He swallowed, suddenly aware of the way her shoulder brushed against his, how close they were sitting. "Yeah, I guess I've been thinking about that too," he admitted.

Olivia turned to face him, her eyes searching his. "D'you think... we'll always be like this? Best friends, I mean. Or do you think we'll grow apart?"

His heart skipped a beat at the thought. The idea of losing what they had-- whatever it was-- was somethinghe couldn't bear. "We won't grow apart," he said firmly, though the words felt heavy on his tongue. "We'll always be best friends, no matter what."

"Promise?"

"Promise," Luke replied, though he wasn't sure if he was trying to convince himself or her.

The sun began to dip lower in the sky, casting long shadows across the water, and Olivia leaned her head on Luke's shoulder, a gesture that had once felt so natural now made his heart race.

"You're my best friend, Lu," she murmured.

Luke hestitated, then put his arm around her, pulling her closer. "You're mine too, Oli," he said, though the words felt like they were only scratching the surface of what he wanted to say.

As the sun set and the sky turned from pink to a deep blue, Luke couldn't help but wonder what the future held for them. He had always thought their friendship would last forever, unchanged, but now he wasn't so sure.

But as they sat there, wrapped together, he couldn't imagine being anyone else.

~~

At 18, Luke and Olivia had slipped back into the easy rhythm of their friendship, though there were moments when things felt different-- charged in a way they hadn't been before. But for the most part, they had grown out of the awkward phase that had defined their relationship two years ago.

This summer, however, one major thing had changed. Olivia and Trevor's feelings for each other, once unrequited, were now undeniably mutual. And it drove Luke insane.

He hated the way that Trevor looked at her-- like she was the only person in the room. And worse, he hated the way Olivia looked back at Trevor, as if she were lost in his gaze. It was if they were silently communicating, undressing each other with their eyes, and it made Luke's stomach churn every time he saw it.

One evening, after a long day on the water, the group gathered in the house for a lowkey night. The parents had gone out for dinner, leaving the boys to their own devices. And Olivia was spending the night watching a movie with her parents. The boys sprawled out in the living room, beers in hand, the sound of crickets filling the quiet spaces between their conversations.

Trevor leaned back in his chair, a smirk playing on his lips. "You know," he began, his voice taking on a tone that immediately put Luke on edge, "Oli's really something else this summer."

Luke's grip on his beer tightened as he shot Trevor a glance. "What do you mean by that?"

Trevor shrugged, his eyes gleaming with mischief. "I mean, she's grown up a lot, hasn't she? Not just in looks, but the way she carries herself. Confident. Sexy."

Luke felt anger rise in his chest. He forced himself to stay calm, but his jaw clenched as he watched Trevor. "She's always been confident," Luke said, his voice steady but edged with warning.

"Yeah, but there's something different about her now," Trevor continued, oblivious to-- or ignoring-- the tension in Luke's voice. "She knows exactly how to get a guy's attention. And trust me, she's got mine."

Luke couldn't take it anymore. "Dude, you need to chill," he snapped, his eyes narrowing at Trevor. "She's not just some girl you can talk about like that. She's my best friend."

Trevor raised an eyebrow, surprised by Luke's reaction. "Relax, Hughes. I'm just saying what everyone's thinking. It's not like I don't care about her."

"That's exactly why you should be more careful with what you say," Luke shot back, his voice lower but still laced with anger. "She deserves more respect than that."

The room went quiet, the tension hanging heavy in the air. Jack and Cole exchanged glances but stayed out of it, sensing this was something Luke needed to handle on his own.

Trevor finally shrugged, raising his hands in mock surrender. "Alright, alright. I didn't mean any harm. I care about her too, y'know."

Luke didn't respond, just stared at Trevor until the other boy looked away, focusing on his drink instead. The conversation moved on, but the uneasy feeling in Luke's chest didn't go away.

As Luke lay in bed later that night, he couldn't stop thinking about the way Trevor had talked about Olivia. He knew his reaction had been intense, but he felt like he couldn't help it. Seeing his best friend with someone else, especially someone who looked at her the way Trevor did, made him want to snap.

He didn't know what it all meant, but one thing was clear: this summer was going to be a lot harder than he'd expected.

~~

The house boomed with the bass of music. With their parents away for the weekend, the boys and Olivia had seized the opportunity to throw a party, and the place was packed with people. Outside, the chaos of beer pong and rowdy games filled the air, while inside, the living room had become a makeshift dance floor.

Luke navigated through the crowd, making his way to the kitchen for a refill. He was in no mood to party- and pretty much wanted to be anywhere else. He slowed when he heard two familiar voices-- Trevor and Olivia. They were standing near the counter, the tension between them palpable. Luke hovered just out of sight, listening closely.

"I can't believe our parents trust us enough to leave us alone for the weekend," Olivia said, her voice carrying a playful tone.

Trevor's laugh was easy, casual. "Yeah, well, they figure we're old enough to handle it. Plus, we've done this before at the Hughes' house, no big deal."

Olivia's soft chuckle followed, and Luke could hear the flirtation in her voice, which made his stomach turn. "You make it sound so harmless, but I know you guys. You're trouble."

"We're not that bad," Trevor replied, his voice dropping a notch, laced with a charm that grated on Luke's nerves. "And besides, trouble's more fun."

There was a brief pause, the kind that made the air feel thick with anticipation. Luke's heart thudded painfully in his chest as he watched Olivia take a step closer to Trevor, her hand reaching out to touch his arm lightly.

"You think you're fun, huh?" her tone was teasing, but there was something more there-- something that made Luke's skin prickle with unease.

Trevor leaned in, his eyes never leaving hers. "Why don't you find out?"

For a moment, Luke thought he might be able to stop what was happening, might be able to step in and pull her away-- pull them apart. But he was frozen, every muscle tense as he watched Olivia smile at Trevor, a soft, almost nervous smile that Luke had seen a thousand times before. But this time, it wasn't meant for him.

"I think I might just do that," she whispered, her voice so quiet that Luke almost didn't hear it. Then, with a slow, deliberate motion, she closed the remaining distance between them. Her lips brushing Trevor's in a kiss that was tentative at first, like she was testing the waters.

Trevor responded immediately, pulling her closer, his hand sliding to the small of her back as he deepened the kiss. And that was when something inside Luke snapped.

It wasn't just a kiss. It was the way she melted into Trevor's arms, the way their bodies fit together like they belonged that way. It was the way Olivia's hands moved up to cup Trevor's face, like she'd wanted to do it for a long time. It was the way Trevor's fingers tangled in her hair, tilting her head to deepen the kiss even further.

Luke's heart pounded so hard he thought it might burst. His vision tunneled, and all he could see was them--Olivia and Trevor-- lost in each other. The rest of the world fell away, the noise of the party fading into the background until all that remained was the two of them, completely oblivious to the fact that they were being watched.

Oli made a soft, contented sound against Trevor's lips, a sound that Luke had never heard her make before. It was intimate, private, and it twisted something deep inside him. He wanted to look away, to give them privacy, but he couldn't. Is feet were glued to the floor, forced to witness something he wasn't meant to see.

Trevor pulled back slightly, just enough to look at her, his hands now resting on her waist. He smiled, and the tenderness of it made Luke's blood boil. "Maybe we should take this somewhere a little less... public," Trevor suggested, his voice husky.

Oli nodded, her eyes still locked on his. "Yeah... let's go upstairs."

The words hit Luke like a punch to the gut, but he still couldn't move, couldn't tear his eyes off them as Trevor took her hand and led her out of the kitchen. Luke's fists clenched at his sides as he watched them head towards the stairs, Olivia glancing back only once before she disappeared from view.

For a long moment, he just stood there, the scene replaying in his mind, the bitter taste of jealousy and anger rising in his throat. He wanted to puke and scream. He wanted to punch something.

He turned and left the hall, weaving through the party, his face masking the storm raging in his mind. The noise of the party, the laughter, and the shouts seemed to mock him as he walked outside. Ignoring the concerned looks from his brothers and Cole, he grabbed a beer and chugged it. All he could think about was Olivia and Trevor, and how they'd left together, their intentions clear. And how he couldn't do anything about it.

~~

The party continued in full swing, with music still blaring and people scattered across the backyard, laughing, drinking, and playing games. Luke sat in a lawn chair near the edge of the group, nursing a drink and pretending to be engaged in the conversation happening around him. But his mind was elsewhere, replaying what he had just witnessed in the kitchen over and over again.

He kept his eyes on the entrance to the house, unable to stop himself from waiting--watching-- for Olivia to return. When she finally did, it was like another punch in the gut. She stepped out onto the back porch, her hair slightly touseled, her shirt askew, and her cheeks flushed. She looked around, her eyes scanning the crowd as if she was looking for something-- or someone.

Luke quickly looked away, trying to focus on anything else. He didn't want to see the confusion in her eyes when she noticed that he was ignoring her, but he knew it was inevitable. He braced himself for it, forcing himself to keep his expression neutral as she finally spotted him.

Her face lit up in recognition, and she started towards him, but her steps faltered when she noticed his lack of reaction. She paused, frowning slightly as she tried to catch his eye, but Luke didn't give her the satisfaction. He kept his gaze fixed on the group in front of him, even though he couldn't hear a word they were saying.

"Hey, Lu," she called out, her voice hopeful.

Luke barely glanced at her, giving her only a nod in acknowledgment before turning back to his drink. She hesitated, her brow furrowing in confusion. She took a step closer, her hand reaching out to touch his shoulder, but he leaned away just enough to make it clear he wasn't interested in talking.

"Luke, what's going on?" she asked, concern creeping into her voice.

He shrugged, his tone detatched. "Nothing, just busy."

Olivia blinked, clearly thrown off by his cold response. She opened her mouth to say something else, but before she could, the back door swung open again, and Trevor emerged, a grin plastered on his face as he joined the group outside. He looked around, his eyes landing on Olivia, and without missing a beat, he made his way over to her.

"Hey, there you are," Trevor said, sliding up behind Olivia and wrapping his arms aorund her waist. He pulled her close, his chin resting on her shoulder as he pressed a kiss to her temple.

Her confusion melted away the instant she felt Trevor's touch. Her race softened, and she leaned back into him, a smile on her lips. For a moment, she seemed to forget all about Luke, her attention fully absorbed by the boy who now had his arms around her.

"Trevor," she said, her voice playful as she tilted her head to look up at him. "You disappeared on me."

Trevor chuckled, his hands resting comfortably on her hips. "Just had to check on a few things. But I'm back now, and I'm not going anywhere."

Olivia beamed at him, her earlier concerns about Luke seemingly forgotten. She reached up to brush a strand of hair out of her face, her fingers lingering on Trevor's arm as if she needed the contact to stay grounded. The tension in her posture was gone, replaced by a relaxed, almost blissful demeanor that made Luke's chest tighten all over again.

Her laugh rang out as Trevor whispered something in her ear, and Luke couldn't help but glance at them. They were completely wrapped in each other, oblivious to everything else. The way Trevor's hands rested possessively on her waist, the way Olivia leaned into his touch--it was like they had forgotten the whole world existed, including Luke.

Any trace of the confusion and worry Olivia had shown just moments before had vanished. It was if Luke's coldness didn't matter anymore, as if she didn't even notice. All she cared about was Trevor, and the realization hit Luke harder than he expected.

He took a long drink from his cup, letting the bitter taste wash away the knot in his throat. The party continued around him, but it all felt distant and unimportant, like white noise. He couldn't stop thinking about what he'd seen, what he'd felt--and how much it hurt to see her look at someone else like that.

But Luke wouldn't let it show, espeically in front of Olivia. He stayed silent, stewing in his own thoughts, while Olivia and Trevor remained lost in their own little world, leaving him on the outside looking in.

~~

The next morning, the house was unusually quiet. Luke was in the kitchen, nursing a cup of coffee, trying to clear his head from the events of the previous night.

His mind was still a mess, replaying the scene of Trevor and Olivia in the kitchen. He hadn't slept well, tossing and turning as he tried to make sense of his emotions, the anger, the jealousy-- everything.

Just as he was starting to lose himself in thought again, Jack strolled into the kitchen, looking surprisingly awake and annoying cheerful. He grabbed a glass of water and leaned against the counter, smirking at his younger brother.

"Well, well, well, Moosey," Jack started, his tone teasing. "I was wondering when you were finally going to make a move on Oli. I gotta say, I'm impressed."

Luke looked up, brow furrowing in confusion. "What are you talking about?"

Jack held up a small, crumpled foil wrapper he'd found discarded on the living room floor. Trevor must've gone to throw it away downstairs. "Found this little guy near the couch. Figure it was about time you two finally, you know... got together."

Luke's stomach twisted at sight of the condom wrapper. He hadn't noticed it earlier, but seeing it now only brought back the memory of Trevor and Olivia all over again. His jaw tightened as he stared at the wrapper, feeling a fresh wave of nausea.

"That's not mine," Luke said flatly, his voice colder than he intended.

Jack's smirk faltered as he raised an eyebrow. "Wait, what? Then whose is it?"

Luke's grip tightened around his coffee mug, his knuckles turning white. He didn't want to say it, didn't want it admit it aloud, but he knew he had to. "It's Trevor's," he finally muttered, the mords tasted bitter in his mouth. "It was him and Olivia."

For a moment, Jack was stunned into silence, his playful expression dropping as he processed what Luke had just said. "Trevor?" he repeated, disbelief evident in his voice. "You're telling me Trevor and Olivia..."

Luke nodded, unable to say it again. The anger and frustration that had been simmering all night was starting to bubble over, and he couldn't keep it in any longer.

"They were in the kitchen last night," Luke said, his voice rough with emotion. "I walked in on them. Didn't even realize I was there."

Jack blinked, trying to wrap his head around the situation. "Shit, Moose... I didn't know." He ran a hand through his hair, trying to figure out how to handle this. "Why didn't you say something? Why didn't you stop them?"

"What was I supposed to do?" Luke snapped. "I didn't want to make a scene. They were all over each other, Jack. She looked so... happy. I just... I couldn't."

Jack sighed, stepping closer to Luke. "I'm sorry, man. I thought... well, I thought it was you and her finally figuring things out."

"Yeah, well, it wasn't," Luke muttered, staring down at the table, the pain of the situation settling in. "And now she's probably going to spend the rest of the summer glued to Trevor, and I'll just have to sit here and watch."

Jack placed a hand on Luke's shoulder, trying to offer some comfort. "Look, maybe it's not as serious as you think. Trevor's... well, he's Trevor. He's probably not thinking long-term, and maybe Olivia's just caught up in the moment. She's getting attention from an older guy. Chicks love that shit."

Luke shurgged off Jack's hand, his frustration too overwhelming to accept any consolation. "I don't care if it's not serious. I just hate seeing them together like that. She's my best friend, Jack. And now... I don't know what we are anymore."

Jack sighed again, understanding his brother’s pain but unsure how to fix it. “Look, Moose, I don’t have all the answers. But if you really care about her, you need to talk to her. Maybe she doesn’t even realize how much this is messing with you.”

Luke shook his head, too angry to think clearly. "What's the point? She's obviously into him, and I'm just... I don't know. It doesn't matter."

"It does matter," Jack insisted. "You can't just sit here and let this eat you up from the inside. If you don't say anything, you'll regret it. Trust me, Moose"

Luke didn't respond, staring down at the coffee cup in his hands, his mind running a mile a minute. He knew Jack was right, but the thought of confronting Olivia--or worse, Trevor--was almost too much to bear.

Jack watched him for a moment longer before sighing and backing off. "Just think about it, okay? I'm here if you need to talk."

With that, Jack left the kitchen, leaving Luke alone with his thoughts. There was still anger and frustration building inside him, but now there was something else--an overwhelming feeling of sadness that made his entire body feel heavy. He wasn't sure what he was supposed to do now. Would things with Olivia ever be the same? Was Jack right and Trevor just wanted a quick fuck? Why was this all so complicated?

~~

Jack had been wrong. Trevor was not looking for something short term with Olivia. And the next summer just proved that even more. It was almost impossible to ignore just how deeply Olivia and Trevor had fallen for each other. From the moment they arrived, they were inseperable. It was like they existed in their own little world, completely unaware of the world around them.

Every morning, Luke would find them wrapped up together on the porch, sharing a cup of coffee as they watched the sunrise. Olivia would sit on Trevor's lap, her arms draped around his neck, as they whispered to each other, their foreheads touching. It was almost as if they'd been superglued together, and it was beyond irritating,

But what really got under Luke's skin were the little things--like the way Trevor would brush a strand of hair behind Olivia's ear before leaning in to kiss her, or how Olivia's laugh seemed louder and brighter when she was with him. Even worse were the marks.

One afternoon, as they all lounged by the lake, Luke noticed a series of faint reddish marks on Olivia's neck when she pulled her hair up into a claw clip. Hickeys.

"Did ya have fun last night?" Jack teased, nudging Oli as they all sat on the dock.

She blushed, giving Jack a playful shove. "Shut up, Jack," she giggled, though she didn't seem embarassed--if anything, she looked pleased.

Trevor smirked, sliding his arm around Olivia's waist and pulling her closer. "Maybe a little too much fun," he joked, kissing her on the temple. Oli just laughed, leaning into him, her fingers absentmindedly tracing circles on his chest.

Luke clenched his fists, staring out at the lake to avoid looking at the happy couple. The sight of them together, so openly affectionate, made him feel like was intruding on something private... something he desperately wished he could unsee, much like the kiss in the kitchen.

As the day went on, it only got worse. During lunch, Trevor fed Olivia bites of his sandwich, and she giggled like it was the most romantic thing in the world. Later, when they were all hanging out in the air conditioned living room, Olivia snuggled up against Trevor's side, her head resting on his shoulder as they watched a movie. Luke tried to focus on the screen, but all he could hear was the soft murmur of their voices as they whispered to each other, completely lost in their own conversation.

When Oli stood up to get a drink, Luke couldn't help but notice the way her shirt had ridden up slightly, revealing another set of hickeys trailing down her side. His jaw tightened, and he quickly looked away, trying to shake the image from his mind.

Late that night, the lake house was quiet, the only sounds coming from the gentle rustling of leaves outside and the occasional creak of the old wooden floors. Luke had finally managed to drift off to sleep when a noise jolted him awake—a muffled laugh, followed by a soft thud against the wall.

His heart sank as he realized the source of the sounds: the room next to his. Trevor’s room.

Luke squeezed his eyes shut, trying to block out the noise, but it was impossible. The hushed giggles, the low murmur of Trevor’s voice, and Olivia’s breathy replies seeped through the thin walls, each sound hitting him like a slap in the face. Then, there was the unmistakable creak of the bed springs, and Luke felt like he was going to be puke.

Luke couldn’t take it anymore. The weight of everything he’d been holding in finally broke through, and he stormed out of his room, needing to get away from the gut-wrenching reality just a few feet away. He found Jack in the kitchen, grabbing a late-night snack, and without warning, the floodgates opened.

Jack turned to see Luke pacing back and forth, his hands tugging at his hair in frustration. “What’s going on with you?” Jack asked, clearly concerned.

Luke stopped pacing and faced his older brother, his face twisted in anger. "You said last summer that it wasn't going to be long-term! That Trevor wasn't looking for anything serious, that he'd move on by now!" he burst out, his voice cracking.

Jack sighed, setting down the bag of chips he's been holding. "I didn't think it would be. I thought they'd have their fun, and it would fizzle out. But I was wrong, Luke. They're clearly serious about each other."

"Serious?" Luke echoed, his voice tinged in disbelief. "They're practically glued together, Jack! They're disgusting, and I don't get it. What does Olivia even see in him?!"

Jack rubbed the back of his neck, not sure how to respond. “Look, I know it sucks to watch them be all lovey-dovey, but Trevor’s a good guy. He makes her happy.”

"Happy?" Luke snapped. "What about me, Jack? I've known her my whole life, and now she's completely forgetten about me because of him. What does she see in Trevor that can't see in anyone else? What's so special about him?"

"Maybe it's just how he makes her feel. Maybe he's the one she needs right now. I don't know, Luke. But it's not like you can force her to feel differently."

"It's not fair! He's always been around, but now it's like he's taken her away from me. And I hate it. I hate seeing them together, hearing them through the damn walls. It's like I'm invisible to her now."

Jack frowned, unsure how to fix his brother's pain. "I get that it's hard, but you've gotta let it go. She's happy, and as much as it sucks, you've gotta accept it. Be there as her best friend. Not a jealous lover."

"I just don't know what he has that I don't."

"Sometimes, people just connect like that. It isn't always about who has known who the longest or who's been there for her through everything. It's about how he makes her feel right now."

Luke just shook his head, not sure how to reply. The thought of Olivia and Trevor being so, so deeply in love made him feel like he was the sickest he'd been in his life. But for Olivia, he'd have to push through.

~~

The following summer brought a strange quiet to the lake. Unlike previous years, Olivia wasn't spending every waking moment with the Hughes family. Instead, she kept to her parents' house next door, avoiding the Hughes' place all together.

Luke noticed her absence immediately. It was hard not to. The usual sounds of her laughter, the sight of her smiling, and the way she'd barge into their house unannouced were all missing. He'd hoped things would return to normal after the last summer, but he was wrong. He felt like he was a wrong a lot when it came to Olivia now.

Jack and Quinn had noticed too, exchanging concerned glances whenever Luke asked if they'd seen her. But Olivia remained elusive, keeping to herself and refusing to join them in any of their usual lake house activities.

Finally, Luke couldn't take it anymore. He needed to get to the bottom of Olivia's disappearance. He made his way to the Jones' cottage, knocking on the door with determination. When Olivia answered, her eyes were red, and she looked like she hadn't slept in days.

"Hey," Luke started softly. "Can we talk?"

She hestitated, but finally stepped to the side to let him in. They sat down, the silence between them heavy.

"I heard that you and Trevor broke up," he wasn't sure how to approach the subject.

She nodded, her hands suddenly becoming the most interesting thing in the room. "Yeah... we did."

Luke waited for her to say more, but she didn't. "Why, Oli? What happened between you two?"

Olivia's face crumpled, and she bit her lip as if holding back tears. "He... he thought I was in love with someone else."

Luke's heart skipped a beat. Who could she possibly be in love with?

"What? Why would he think that?"

She shook her head, voice trembling. "I don't know. I tried to tell him it wasn't true, but he just... he didn't believe me. He said he couldn't be with someone who wasn't all in, who might have feelings for someone else."

"Do you?" he asked cautiously. "Have feelings for someone else, I mean?"

She looked away, wiping at her eyes. "It doesn't matter now, does it? Trevor and I are over."

Luke’s heart ached at her pain, and a surge of protectiveness washed over him. He wanted to ask more, to dig deeper into what she was feeling, but he could see how much it was hurting her to talk about it.

"You know we're here for you, right? No matter what," Luke said softly, reaching over to cover her hand with his.

"I know," she whispered. "I just need some space right now."

"Okay. Just... don't shut us out forever, alright? I'm here whenever you're ready to talk."

"Thanks, Lu. I appreciate that. Especially after I've been such a shit friend."

"Any time, Oli. Any time."

~~

The next night, the Hughes' house was buzzing with laughter and conversation as the boys and few friends hung out on the deck. But Luke couldn't stop staring at the empty seat he'd made the boys save just in case Olivia decided to come over. He hadn't seen her since the day before, and his worry was growing.

Around midnight, the hangout started to wind down, and Luke decided to call it a night. He was halfway up the stairs when he heard the door creak open. Turning around, he saw Olivia stumbling in, her eyes glassy and movements unsteady.

"Olivia?" he called as he hurried back down the stairs.

She looked up at him with sadness and something he couldn't quite place--something desperate. "Luke," she slurred. "There you are. I've been looking for you."

Luke took in her disheveled appearance. Her hair was a mess, her clothes crumpled, and the scent of alcohol clung to her like a cloud. She was drunk, way more than he'd ever seen her.

"Oli, what're you doing here? You should be home, resting," he tried to lead her towards the door.

But she shook her head, pulling away from his grasp. "No, I don't want to be there. I don't want to be alone," her voice cracked. She reached out, her fingers brushing against his arm. "Please, Luke... I need you."

Luke froze, his breath catching in his throat as Olivia leaned in closer, her lips inches from his. She was so close, and for a brief moment, the temptation was almost too much to resist. But then he saw the tears in her eyes, the way her hands trembled, and he knew it wasn't right.

"Oli, you're not okay," he stepped back, taking her hands in his. "You've had too much to drink. Let me take you home."

"You don't want me anymore, do you? Because I'm... used. I'm not good enough now."

"Olivia, no. That's not true. You're amazing and I-" he paused, thinking over his words. "I care about you so much, but this... this isn't the right time. You're hurting, and I don't want to take advantage of that."

Olivia's shoulders slumped in defeat. "I'm sorry, Luke. I just... I don't know what to do anymore."

Luke pulled her into a tight hug, holding her close as he cried into her chest. "It's okay, Oli. I'm here for you, no matter what."

He hated seeing her so broken and lost. She needed time to heal, to find herself again. And he'd just have to be patient.

~~

Olivia woke up with a pounding headache and a foggy memory. She groaned, rubbing her temples as she tried to piece together the events of the previous night. Everything felt like a blur--a messy tangle of emotions, confusion, and too much alcohol.

She shuffled downstairs to the kitchen, hoping a cup of black coffee would clear her head. But as she sat down, a sense of unease settled in her stomach. Something had happened last night, something important maybe, but she couldn't quite grasp it.

But before she could dwell on it, there was a knock at the door. She frowned and set her mug down to answer it. She was surprised to find Luke on the other side, looking quite serious.

"Hey. Can I come in?"

"Uh, yeah, sure," she replied. She watched as he walked into the living room, his hands shoved in his pockets, brow furrowed. "Luke, what's going on?"

"Oli, do you remember anything from last night?"

"Not really... I remember drinking a lot and... that's about it. Why? What happened?"

Luke sighed, running a hand through his hair. "You came over to our place. You were really upset and... you tried to, uh, make a move on me."

"I what?!"

"Yeah," Luke said, his tone gentle but firm. "You were really drunk. And I could tell you weren't in the right headspace, so I stopped you."

She felt her face heat up in embarrassment. "Oh my god, Luke, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to-"

"Don't apolgize," he stepped closer. "You were hurting, and you needed someone. I just didn't want you to do anything you'd regret."

"But... why did I do that? I mean, why you?"

Luke hesitated, taking a deep breath. "Oli, I think it's time I'm honest with you. I've... had feelings for you for a long time. Probably longer than I even realized. But I didn't want to mess things up between us, so I never said anything. And then you and Z... I thought I'd lost my chance."

"Luke... I didn't know."

"I know," he said quietly. "And last night, when you came to me like that... it wasn't because you wanted me. It's because you were hurting, and I don't want to be the guy you turn to when you're upset."

"I thought... I thought you didn't want me because I'm 'used.' Because I've slept with Trev."

He gently lifted her chin so she could look at him. "That's not true, Oli. I've never thought of you that way. You deserve so much more than what Trevor gave you, and if I could be the one to make you happy, I would. But only if that's what you really want."

"Luke... I- I don't know what to say."

"You don't have to say anything," he whispered. "Just... think about it. If you don't feel the same way, that's okay. But if you do... I'm here."

For a moment, they stood in silence, the weight of Luke's confession hanging in the air. Then, without thinking, Olivia closed the distance between them and pressed her lips to his.

The kiss was slow and tender, filled with all the emotions they'd both been holding back for so long. When they finally pulled away, Luke pressed his forehead to hers, both of them gasping for air.

"Oli," his voice thick with emotion. "I've wanted this for so long."

"Me too," she whispered back, her hands clutching onto the fabric of his shirt. "I just didn't realize it till now."

Olivia gently tugged him towards her bedroom. Luke hesitated for a second, searching her eyes for any sign of doubt.

"Are you sure?"

She nodded, her heart racing. "I'm sure."

And with that, they fell into bed together, finally giving in to the feelings they'd both kept hidden for so long.

~~

Luke and Olivia finally crossed the line they had danced around for years, everything felt different. The sun streamed through the curtains of her bedroom, Olivia stirred awake, feeling content. She must've finally gotten the rest she needed. The warmth of Luke's presence beside her was undeniable. He was already up, sitting on the edge of the bed, his back to hers as he tied up his sneakers.

"Morning," he turned to shoot her a soft smile.

"Morning," Olivia replied, sitting up and pulling the covers up around her.

"Are you okay?" he could sense her hestiation a mile away.

"Yeah, I think so."

"We can talk about this later. Just... take it easy today, alright? No more drinking."

She nodded and he walked over to press a kiss on her forehead before he left.

"I'll see you later?"

"Yeah, sure," she forced a smile. Luke lingered for a moment, as if he wanted to say more, but then just nodded and left, closing the door softly behind him.

As soon as he was gone, Olivia sank back into the pillows, her mind racing. She couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong--terribly wrong. The more she thought about it, the more her insecurities began to take hold. She had slept with Trevor, Luke’s friend, and now she had slept with Luke. What did that make her? A puck bunny? The thought made her stomach turn. She didn’t want to be seen that way, didn’t want to be the girl who bounced between hockey players, even if Luke was different, even if she had real feelings for him.

By the time afternoon had rolled around, Olivia was overwhelmed by doubt. Every time her phone buzzed with a new text from Luke, she ignored it, burying herself in the puzzle her parents had started. She couldn't face him when she felt like this.

Luke was growing concerned. The day before had been a turning point, but now he was being ignored again. Her silence was gnawing at him. He sent another text, that she ignored, and decided to make his way to hers.

He knocked on the door, just as he had the day before. Olivia answered, looking even more stressed than she had been.

"Luke, I..."

"Whatever it is just tell me... please."

"I just... I don't want people thinking I'm some sort of... you know... puck bunny."

"What? Olivia, nobody would ever think that about you."

"But they will, Luke! I was with Trevor, and now we're...you know. People are going to judge, they always do."

He placed a hand on her arm, "You're not a puck bunny, Olivia. You're everything to me. I don't care what anyone else thinks. And if they do judge, that's their problem. Not ours."

"You really mean that?"

"Of course I do," he replied without hesitation. "You're not just someone I'm hooking up with. You're my best friend, and I want you to be my... girlfriend."

Her fears melted away almost instantly. "I... I want that too."

Luke pulled her into a tight hug. "Good. Because I'm not letting you go. Ever."

As they held each other, Olivia couldn't believe how perfect things felt. Life wasn't easy, but with Luke by her side, anything was possible.

[jjsmaybank20]

Celebrity News 2

Jenna Ortega x GN!Reader

Summary: Once again, everyone thinks that you and Jenna broke up. In reality, you just wanted to cause some drama.

Warnings: literally all fluff, and my shitty writing

Word Count: 706

A/N: woooo part 2 cause I couldn't help myself. also, im back from the dead! for a bit. i have midterms right now which are whooping my ass so... wish me luck!

Part 1

navigation  celebrities (romantic) masterlist

---

2,628,553 Likes

Y/N_Y/L/N: Sadly, after 1 ½  wonderful years, Jenna is not my girlfriend anymore. We are still on good terms, I promise, but I just thought I would let you guys know.

User57: WHAT?! THIS CANT BE REAL

User32: This is not happening. What the actual fuck.

y/n&jenna4life: No i refuse to believe this

arianagrande: I’m so sorry, Y/N/N!

jenniferlawrence_: dude that sucks! Hope you’re doing okay

>Y/N_Y/L/N: i’m okay, thank you for thinking of me

---

THIS IS NOT ANOTHER FALSE ALARM: ACTORS JENNA ORTEGA AND Y/N Y/L/N HAVE REPORTEDLY SPLIT

According to an instagram post Y/L/N posted last night, said actor and Wednesday star Jenna Ortega have split. A couple months ago, there was a false alarm in the end of the two’s relationship, caused by a hilarious dispute over a game of Monopoly. Well, this time, it seems that no one will be laughing. Ortega and Y/L/N are scheduled to be on The Late Night Show with Jimmy Fallon tonight, so maybe they will provide some insight as to why the seemingly perfect couple has split. 

---

“You guys are on in 5!” A stage attendant calls into the dressing room, prompting you to stand up at the same time as Jenna. You grab her hand and bring it to your lips, pressing a chaste kiss to it. She smiles at you, blushing, before squeezing your hand and making her way out of the room. You follow closely after Jenna, excited to talk about your new movie with her. 

The introduction music begins to play, and you hear Jimmy Fallon calling out both your name and Jenna’s. Jenna walks out first, waving to the crowd, and you follow behind, buttoning your suit jacket and winking at some of the people in the  audience. 

As the two of you take a seat, Jimmy jumps right into the interview. He asks you questions about your roles, and just about the film in general. He also asks Jenna some questions about the second season of Wednesday. Finally, he gets to what he had been wanting to ask the most. 

“You guys were absolutely amazing in this film, but I have to say. It must have been difficult working together, at least for a little while.” Jenna gives him a confused look, and you fight the smile that is trying to make its way onto your face as best you can. “Why do you say that?” Jenna questions.

Jimmy gives her an odd look, explaining, “Well, because the two of you broke up, right? At least, according to Y/N’s Instagram post.” You still manage to keep a straight face, even when Jenna whips her head around towards you. “What the hell did you do, Y/N Y/L/N?!” 

You look around as if you can’t see her before turning back to Jimmy. “You know, sometimes I can still hear her, nagging me as if she were my girlfriend or something.” She finally breaks, letting out all of the laughter that she had been trying to hold in. Jimmy and the rest of the audience laugh with her, but they are clearly confused. 

Jenna rolls her eyes at you, ignoring your laughter. She turns to Jimmy to explain. “Ignore this little shit, they think they’re hilarious. So what happened is, Y/N is not my partner anymore.” Jimmy becomes even more confused, exclaiming, “So what is it?!” Jenna holds up her hand, revealing the glittering ring that you had purposed with only a short while ago. “They’re my fiance.” 

Jimmy gasps, not expecting this at all. “Oh my god! Congratulations!” You have finally recovered from your amusement, and you thank the man for his kind words. As soon as you fully sit up, Jenna smacks the back of your head. You wrap up the interview, and you and Jenna head home.

As you get ready for bed that night, Jenna turns to you. “You’re a fucking dick, you know that?” You just grin at her, replying, “But you love it. You love me.” Jenna can’t help but smile at you. “Fine. I do love you. So much.” She presses a kiss to your lips before heading into the bathroom. You just stand there in your room smiling. Life couldn’t get much better than this.

---

@lovelyy-moonlight @pnsteblnme @MrsLillithy @alotofpockets @theenglishswiftie @tundra1029 @ampitrit3 @didyoubringauntienat @jensortega813 @ortegalvr

Join my taglist!

[sassycheesecake]

MEET AND GREET DAY 6:

#4, Captain and Middle Blocker Shūgo Meian of the MSBY Black Jackals

Meian can't remember the last time he had some peace and quiet

A crazy team to keep under control honestly requires a medal for patience

But lately, his mother is getting on his nerves as well

Telling her son to find a girlfriend, a boyfriend, a partner to finally settle down with

She calls him almost every day and whenever she would bring up his love situation, he automatically rolls his eyes at her annoyed tone

Meian is currently tying his shoes in the locker room, ready for the upcoming match against the Tachibana Red Falcons, when his mother called again

"Son, I have found you a compatible match! They're--"

"Mum, I have a game in a little bit, can we do this later?"

"Just promise me, you will go out with them tomorrow! They are very nice and I am not getting any younger here and neither are your reproduction tools!"

Meian is now at his limit, his mother mentioning his private parts is just getting too much for him

"Okay fine! If I go out with this person tomorrow, will you PLEASE stop bothering me about it?"

"Yes. Have a good game my son!" She hangs up and Meian is relieved, now he can focus on the game

"Miya! Stop using my deodorant! Buy your own!" "Give me my shoes back!" "WOOOO! GAME TIME!" "MEIAN! TELL THAT ASSHOLE TO GIVE ME MY SHOES BACK!"

Aaaaand off we go to the next problem

Luckily enough, the Jackals won by 5-4, so Meian is in a good mood the next day

As he waits for you by Komeda's Coffee around noon, according to the details his mother has texted him early in the morning

Honestly, Meian just wants to go back home and sleep, maybe if he's lucky enough, his blind date has both a terrible personality and terrible looks and he can just leave and go back to bed and finish the third season of Bridgerton

As he waits in front of the café, scrolling through Instagram, he hears the sweetest voice his ears have ever encountered

"Are you Meian?"

As he turns to look at you, his eyes widen at the sight of you

Like wow

The way your body moves, the way eyes your shine, the way your skin glows in the sun

When you are close enough to him, he gets an intoxicating scent from you, like gosh he wishes he could just hug you and inhale your fragrance for days

He internally slaps himself for thinking such intrusive thoughts on your first date

You keep talking, Meian guesses how happy you are to meet him because his heart is doing somersaults and his brain feels like it's constantly restarting

"You okay? You look distracted."

"No, no, I am fine I promise. I just have never seen such a gorgeous person before."

And now it's your turn with the somersaults

You both go inside the café, him holding the door open for you, pulling the chair before you sit down (sigh, a true gentleman)

Honestly, when your mother told you you would be going on a blind date with a professional athlete who plays volleyball, you honestly expected an arrogant ass who only talks about how great he is and how this sport is the greatest in the world

Meian is not what you expected

Sure, he is very good looking: tall, muscular, broad mouth-watering shoulders, a body that looked like it was carved by Myron himself

His personality is sweet, a bit inexperienced sure but he solely focuses on you and gives you compliment after compliment

He tells you about his profession, about his team and invites you to his next game in a week

Meian's teammates of course notice the constant smiling looking at his phone and the small nod of his head into the VIP section

Yet the ravenette doesn't care, already planning on marrying you in the future

[nyarlathotep-thecrawlingchaos]

Woooo chapter 3 finally

Probably going to at least start the next chapter tonight because I’m so looking forward to writing Mihawk again. He is in this chapter as I promised, but...we do not wake him from his nap. We know better.

But Bogard and Garp have been so much fun honestly. Especially Garp giving Luffy vibes because the brainless dumbassery for sure runs in the family.

Not sure if that applies to Dragon but…look it’d be hilarious if it did—

Anyway, chapter threeeeeeeee

Flight Risk

Young!Mihawk x Marine!AFAB!Reader

Ch. 3 of like four or something maybe six at most idk, I have a clear ending in sight but I’m not sure how long it’ll take to get there

Brief summary of The Story So Far: So Garp, in his infinite wisdom, had this brilliant idea about how the Marines could use reader's devil fruit ability (zoan type, gray parrot) to spy on this particularly dangerous and elusive pirate up close, and now reader is stuck scoping out Kuraigana Island to see if there are any signs of him there. Bogard may have a coronary before this nonsense is said and done.

First Chapter link, Next Chapter link

SFW for now, but not in later chapters

Possible trigger warning for blood. Possible future trigger warnings for imprisonment, mild torture (definitely psychological, maybe physical)

Tags: Enemies to lovers, eventually NSFW, idk maybe more later

Word Count: 3,057

Haven't really proofread this much but I will in a minute I promise

No tag list yet, I do not expect one but if you're interested in seeing where this bullshit goes just lemme know

♫♬I’m Gonna Be Your Elvis — The Fratellis♬♫

I could not pretend that I was even half amused

When all they ever told me left me shaken and confused

It would have been a beautiful night for a flight, if not for the destination ahead of you.

Kuraigana Island loomed closer as your wings cut through the soft breeze in your transformed state, and catching the wind would ensure that you could simply glide most of the way there without expending too much energy. The chilly night air barely cut through your thick coat of gray feathers, and your dull coloration and the dim light of the crescent moon gave you some reassurance that you would be able to see any potential threat before it could notice you.

Something near the shore by the forest caught your eye, and you swooped in a bit closer to be positive of what you were looking at—and your stomach did a backflip as you confirmed it.

A small vessel was moored there, a boat in the shape of a coffin.

That was confirmation enough that he was here. Part of you considered circling back around the battleship cutting silently through the water a mile or so behind you and reporting this alone to Garp.

But…no. You had been told to fly over, to see what you could from a high enough elevation to avoid detection, and you intended to do just that. This was your first real chance to show your value as a Marine. You couldn’t blow it by turning tail and running the moment you felt the slightest pang of fear. Hardening your resolve, you regained your elevation with a few flaps of your wings, circling the island until you were at a height where you felt safe.

As safe as you could, at least.

The forest was quiet enough—there were no signs of the population of primates Garp had mentioned to you, perhaps all asleep for the evening. Save for the sound of nocturnal birds and insects cutting through the night air, nothing seemed out of the ordinary in the dense forest, or the narrow path that cut through it from the shore. You flew a bit lower, squinting down across the path.

His boat was there. You knew he had to be there somewhere. He never worked with anyone else, so chances were slim to none that he could possibly be anywhere else.

The clearing around the castle was half overgrown itself, littered with ruins and evidence of battles long since ended beneath a thin veil of fog, but the castle itself seemed mostly intact from your vantage point.

Intact, with a dim orange glow glimmering from one of the windows that made you briefly halt in midair, flapping your wings lightly to keep yourself aloft. Fire light. It had to be, there was no other explanation, perhaps the dim glow of a candle or a lantern. There was someone there, someone in a high room of the tower straight ahead of you. That would be enough for you to go back with, more than enough information to all but confirm the reports.

But…if you could get just a little closer, if you could confirm it with your own eyes…

This was a bad idea. It had to be a bad idea. Garp had told you to keep your distance, but you were already swooping down, stopping just beside the window and gripping your talons against the grooves between the stones that comprised the solid wall.

Folding your wings back behind you, slowly and quietly creeping closer to the window.

Closer, just a bit closer, craning your neck the slightest bit to the side to glimpse inside…

The light, as you had thought, came from an oil lantern situated on a small end table, illuminating what appeared to be a sizable den. Most of the visible surfaces in the room were covered with a fine coating of dust that glinted eerily in the flickering glow, from the bookshelves lining one wall to the adjacent hearth. It was quiet at the moment, still, but there was one sign of life that made your heart skip a beat and your breath catch.

Leaning alongside the hearth, unmarred by a single speck of dust, stood a massive sword with a jet-black blade and hilt in the shape of a cross, a glimmering blue gem set into the base of the hilt that seemed to glow in the firelight. Holding your breath as you stared at the weapon, unable to take your eyes off of it, you realized that the room wasn’t quite as silent as you had thought.

The faint whisper of slow, even breathing met your ears.

He was there. He was really there. You considered the likelihood that you were the first Marine to ever get this close without being killed within seconds, considered the idea of taking off back for your ship right that instant.

And then you slowly shifted a little closer to the window, looking around the edge of the windowsill to the other side of the room.

You barely stopped yourself from letting out a gasp.

Reclined back in an old armchair, a book open across his lap, his boots propped up on the table in front of him, arms crossed over his chest and head tilted down slightly—it was him. There was no question about it. Even with the small difference from his most recent bounty poster of the angular moustache and goatee, there was no question. You were barely ten feet away from the Marine Killer himself, Dracule Mihawk.

And he was fast asleep.

His chest rose and fell slowly with his deep, even breaths, his eyes closed. His plumed hat sat to the side on an end table, his signature trench coat draped across the back of his chair. You had done it—more than simply scouting for activity, more getting the lay of the land, you had found the man himself.

You jolted in alarm when he shifted in his sleep, quickly pulling your head out of the window, your heart racing.

That, you decided, was more than enough for you to report back. You shifted a careful distance across the wall of the tower, taking care to ensure that your talons didn’t so much as scratch against the stone surface, and took flight back toward the shore, toward the battleship barely visible against the dark water and midnight sky. Gliding just above the treetops, buzzing with adrenaline, you were already swelling with pride. You, a cadet that had spent weeks being taunted and treated like a joke, had managed to use the very ability that had made you a laughingstock to do what no other Marine had yet managed.

For the first time, you had more than just a glimmer of hope that this plan, however ridiculous it sounded on the surface, could actually work.

And then something whizzed past your left wing.

You faltered in your flight, looking around as you flapped your wings a few times to regain your equilibrium. Whatever it was had passed by so fast that you had registered no more than the whistle of wind around it. Maybe a smaller bird or a large bug—

And then it happened again.

And again.

And, as you realized that the objects were coming from below you and looked down, you let out an audible gasp that left you like a strangled squawk.

You were too close to the trees, you realized disjointedly, as you took in the sight of several enormous, ape-like creatures below you. You were also the only bird in the air, which you guessed had a great deal to with the fact that these particular apes were wearing what appeared to be some sort of armor and wielding very human weapons. Swords, spears, axes, and—to your stunned realization—bows.

Another arrow zipped past your right wing, close enough to brush across your feathers.

What the hell what the hell what the hell—

Soaring higher into the air did you little good. The beasts had already spotted you and were following your flight path with ease, still firing arrows, throwing spears (though these, thankfully, didn’t manage to come nearly high enough to pose any threat). You were more than halfway across the expanse of the forest, you could make it, you knew you could.

Nearly to the end of it, dipping higher and lower, zig-zagging through the air to throw off the aim of the strange primates.

Right there, right at the edge of the trees, when a searing pain tore through your right wing, causing you to screech out a swear, glancing down to watch the offending arrow fall and land on the shore below you.

You didn’t even dare glance toward your wing to see how bad the injury was. As long as you didn’t look, it might have only been a scratch. It might have just been a light graze. You tried to ignore how unsteady your flying was, to ignore the fact that you were slowly losing elevation and seemed unable to regain it, that you were swerving to the left no matter how hard you tried not to.

You did focus on the fact that if you fell now, you wouldn’t ever make it back. You’d fall into the nearly black waves below you and sink down into the ocean like a sack of stones, and that would be the end.

Your ship drew closer and closer, growing larger and larger in your line of sight, and you focused on that.

Until you were close enough to glide awkwardly onto the quarterdeck, where Garp and Bogard seemed to be arguing quietly in front of the doors of the Vice Admiral’s cabin, and skid past them across the floorboards, hitting the railing on the starboard side.

Whatever argument your superior officers had been engaged in ceased the moment you transformed, pulling yourself up to sit against the railing, already half-shouting at the older man, “You could have told me they knew how to use weapons!”

You didn’t like the way they stared at you for a long moment, both of their gazes flickering to your right arm, no more than you liked how limp the appendage felt at your side as you gripped at the railing with your left hand.

Garp mumbled something to Bogard, who gave a short nod before disappearing into the cabin.

Garp tilted his head the slightest bit to the side, lifting his eyebrows as he slowly approached you. “That—exactly who knows how to use weapons?” he asked slowly.

“The goddamned apes, that’s who,” you said through your teeth, briefly forgetting every ounce of formality that your time as a Marine had instilled in you. “They had swords! And bows! And armor and spears and—”

“The ap—never mind that for now,” he said slowly, holding up a hand. “You need to calm down, cadet. And we need to get you patched up.”

“Patched up—I could have been killed!”

You still hadn’t looked at your arm. The adrenaline still coursing through your veins made the sharp, throbbing pain seem like an afterthought, like a distant reality as you pulled yourself to your feet. “By a bunch of damned monkeys that evidently—”

“Enough.” You jumped at the harsh command, straightening yourself out completely and snapping to attention in an instant. Your eyes briefly darted to the cabin doors as Bogard emerged, unwinding a belt as he strode over quickly, tossing a quick glare at Garp before lifting your arm and wrapping it around a couple inches below your shoulder. “We can discuss it in a few minutes. We need to get you down to the sick bay first.”

You still didn’t look down, shaking your head at Garp as you stared at him in alarm.

“It was just a scratch, I’m fine—ow—” you added as Bogard abruptly tightened the belt around your arm, glancing over.

Your eyes widened at the sight of the large, deep gash extending nearly from your right elbow to your shoulder.

At the blood steadily spurting out from what was no doubt a pretty important vein or artery.

“O…oh,” was all you could force out, your eyes lowering to the puddle of blood at your feet, the adrenaline rush fading in nearly an instant, leaving you more than a little light-headed. “That’s…”

The makeshift tourniquet around your arm did gradually slow the bleeding by the time you sat down at the edge of one of the cots in the infirmary, but you were still woozy from the blood loss, still lightheaded from everything you had witnessed during your flyover of Kuraigana Island, only catching the vaguest gist of Garp and Bogard’s continued bickering.

“And you didn’t think to inform me of this hare-brained mission beforehand?” Bogard was saying, and while his face was shadowed by the brim of his hat you were sure his expression matched his sour tone.

“It was just recon,” said Garp, sitting at the edge of a cot a few feet away, striking a match and holding it to the end of a cigar clamped between his teeth. “In and out, ten minutes. Didn’t seem like a big deal.”

“And yet here we are,” he said through his teeth, not bothering to glance up at your flinching as he cleaned the gash with an alcohol drenched cloth.

“How the hell was I supposed to know a bunch of goddamned apes would know how to use weapons?” he said, slouching over against the wall. “Wonder if the psychopath trained them…”

“Seeing as we know next to nothing about him aside from the fact that he seems to derive joy from committing mass murder, I don’t suppose anyone knows,” said Bogard, tossing a sidelong glare at the vice admiral, who gave a noncommittal shrug. Bogard tossed the cloth aside with an irritated growl and shoved a clean one into your hands. “Put pressure on that.”

“Yessir,” you said automatically, wincing as you pushed the rag against the wound.

“With all due respect, Garp, this entire farce was your idea,” said Borgard, straightening out from where he had been kneeling next to your cot to cross the room and begin rifling through drawers and cabinets. “I’m sure you can imagine what we’d have to deal with were we to return to headquarters and have to inform Sengoku that our operative was killed en route by a bow-wielding monkey.”

“Eh…” Garp shrugged a shoulder, his own expression souring at the thought. “But hell, at least we know why no one’s made it out of the place now. So we did get some information.”

“And suppose the target had been there?”

“He was.”

Both men froze when you spoke up—Garp halfway through pulling his cigar from his mouth to flick the ashes from the end, Bogard with a drawer halfway shut, both of them slowly turning their heads to look toward you.

“You should probably tell someone at headquarters to update his bounty poster,” you added, tapping at your chin. “He, ah, has a goatee now.”

Both men continued to regard you in stunned silence for several long, tense seconds, glancing at each other as your words slowly sunk in.

Garp’s face split into a grin, and his hearty laughter a moment later completely drowned out his partner’s weary sigh. Bogard slowly closed the drawer, turning around to lean back against the counter behind him, rubbing at the bridge of his nose.

“Were you not instructed to keep your distance?” he said loudly, glowering over at Garp as the older man threw his head back in laughter. You sat up a bit straighter when Bogard turned his glare on you, crossing his arms, frowning at you with the same measure of exasperation. “Had you been seen—”

“I was careful,” you said quickly. “I noticed a light in one of the castle windows. Most of the place is in ruins but the castle is still standing. I only peeked through the corner of the window, he was asleep.”

You decided as his frowned deepened that it was best not to mention how long you had lingered in the windowsill.

“Sounds to me like the kid passed her test with flying colors,” said Garp, still chuckling to himself. He gave you a nod of approval, pointing toward you with the smoldering end of his cigar. “Good work, cadet.”

“It sounds,” said Bogard, pulling the drawer next to him open sharply, “as if our cadet was taking wholly unnecessary risks for the sake of an unnecessarily dangerous and unauthorized ‘test’ of her abilities.” Garp rolled his eyes at the indirect scolding, leaning against the wall of the infirmary again. “Needless to say,” he went on, fishing through the drawer and retrieving a suture kit before shoving it closed, “the next time any of your commanding officers sees fit to pose you with such a mission again…”

He grabbed a clipboard off of the counter, flipped over an empty medical report to its blank side, and tossed it onto the cot next to Garp, before heading back over to sit at the cot across from yours. You watched as he retrieved a large, curved needle and set to threading it, tossing a sharp look at you.

“…you are both advised and encouraged to run it by me first. Understood?” You nodded quickly as he pulled the cloth out of your hands and away from the expansive gash across your arm. “Good. Then you’ll relay what you witnessed during your reconnaissance, and our esteemed vice admiral will take down the report—”

“Why the hell do I have to—”

“Because you’re terrible at applying stitches,” Bogard snapped before Garp could finish his protest. The older man rolled his eyes, snatching up the clipboard and digging a pen out of his pocket. Bogard leaned over with the threaded needle in his hand and added, “This is going to hurt.”

“Probably not much more than nearly having my wing shot off,” you reasoned.

Garp snorted.

Bogard sighed, muttering something under his breath about being surrounded by idiots, before grabbing your wrist and pulling your arm straight, not bothering to give you any warning before jabbing the needle through your skin.

“Just stay still,” he said over the sharp hiss of air your drew in through your teeth at the pain, “and relay your report, cadet."

Next chapter link again, for your convenience

First Chapter Link again, for your convenience

[sugrhigh]

HOTBOX - ( m.s )

part two

summary- matt finally decides to smoke with his best friends for the first time, and he finds that it’s impossible to keep his eyes off of you

warnings- drug use, swearing, tiny bit suggestive

bff!matt x fem!reader

a/n: WOOOO finally a real piece of writing! i hope u guys enjoy. will possibly do a part two but idk, so if you have requests just ask!

he can’t stop drumming his fingers against the wheel as he steers the car along, desperately trying to relax a little bit and focus on the music that’s blaring through the speakers.

chris sits beside him in the passenger seat, feet up on the dashboard as you guys speed toward your destination. he can hear you and nate conversing in the back, practically shouting at each other over the song.

the waterfront comes into view through his windshield a moment later, moonlight shimmering against the glassy surface. matt takes the next left, swerving across both lanes of traffic to pull into the deserted lot.

there’s nobody on the beach of course, considering it’s almost midnight in the middle of november. he throws the car into park and lowers the volume, shifting in his seat so he can actually see everyone.

“i think that’s the fastest i’ve ever seen you drive, grandpa.” you tease him, unbuckling so you can lean forward in your seat.

he rolls his eyes, though he never actually minds it when you’re the one chirping at him.

“you’re gonna wish it was me once nate gets behind the wheel, i promise.”

“wow, so i volunteer to stay sober and this is the thanks i get?” his friend asks, arms crossed over his chest defensively.

“thank you nate.” you reply in a sing-song voice.

“yeah, yeah. whatever.”

matt watches as you claw through your bag, finally digging out a small blue pouch after a few more seconds of searching.

the moment you unzip it, the all-too familiar smell of weed fills the interior of the car. chris cheers when he sees you pull out a perfectly packed joint, holding it in between your middle and pointer finger with precision.

“you know, it’s really upsetting that you can roll better than me.” nate shakes his head with a sigh.

“aw, you gonna cry about it?” you puff your bottom lip out at him.

“i swear i’ll fucking walk home and leave you guys stranded.”

“sure you will. hold this.” you pass the joint to him before retrieving the lighter.

matt tries to play down the smile that’s beginning to take over his face as you hold it in your palm. he got that one for you on your last birthday. it’s a silver zippo lighter with a big winding dragon engraved on the side.

it was kind of a gag gift just because he knows how much you smoke, but you ended up genuinely loving it way more than he had ever expected.

chris smacks him in the arm gently, and he finally tears his eyes away from you.

“you sure you want to?” his brother double checks, though he doesn’t do a very good job of containing his obvious excitement.

“yup.” matt replies simply, his gaze darting in your direction again.

he’s never once felt pressured to smoke before, but he’s always been a little curious. he’s hung out with the three of you while you’re all stoned enough times to realize that he at least wants to try it.

and sure, maybe a tiny part of him is doing this because he wants to impress you. but what’s the harm in that?

“i’ll start her off, but then it’s coming your way matty b.” you nod at him with a smile, taking the joint back from nate.

his heart is already pounding and all you did was look at him.

you put the filter between your lips and spark his lighter, holding the flame to the end. he watches it burn as you inhale, trying to figure out exactly how he’s supposed to do this when it’s his turn.

you blow the smoke over your shoulder, careful not to do it in anyone’s face. no cough. matt doesn’t even see you flinch.

you take one more quick drag, and he’s already entranced by your fluid movements.

then you stretch your hand out, offering him the next hit as you silently exhale once again. it’s impossible for him to ignore the way he fumbles with your hand before he finally pinches it between his fingers.

it feels awkward, like he’s somehow already doing it wrong.

“just put your lips on it, suck in, not for long though because that’s real shit. then hold it in your throat, inhale it, exhale it.” you instruct him, and his mouth is already dry from the way you’re talking.

there’s something about the commanding edge to your voice that’s driving him crazy. he kind of likes that you’re the know-it-all, the one in control.

“sounds dirty, but you get the point.” chris states with a shrug.

yeah, sounds fucking dirty.

“you got this, don’t even think about it too much.” nate adds encouragingly.

matt bites the bullet, curling his lips around the end and inhaling. he definitely feels the smoke fill his lungs, so he pulls the joint away quickly and practically tosses it to chris.

“exhale, exhale.” you instruct, and he does so all at once.

it fogs up the car, smoke flying back up in his face instantly. then he feels it. the burning in his throat. the desperate need to cough.

he sputters, and chris is already motioning to one of the waters in the cup holder.

“keep holding your breath and drink that.”

he tries to do as he’s told, but it’s impossible to hold it in. he lets out a loud hacking cough. then another, and another. matt tries to sip on the water in between them, though it’s hard.

you rub his arm gently as the cough attack begins to die down, and the feeling of your fingernails scratching him lightly through his sweatshirt almost makes him shiver.

“i personally like a good cough everyone once in a while. humbles me.” you joke, removing your hand and sitting back in your seat once you’re sure he’s alright.

he misses your touch immediately, and it’s embarrassing.

chris has been keeping it lit, so he passes it back to you once you’re ready. matt is left out for a moment, and he doesn’t mind the brief break.

the music stays on in the background, a curated playlist of stuff that you all like. he sees you bopping your head along to baby keem, and you turn to him with the joint still burning between your lips.

“you want more?” you say as the smoke curls around your face.

in many ways.

matt nods and reaches to grab it from you, trying to be careful where he positions his fingers. he repeats his actions from earlier, breathing out slowly this time.

he still coughs quite a bit, but it’s not nearly as bad. the high is definitely rushing straight to his head, and it makes him feel like a balloon full of helium.

his brother guides the joint out of his hand gently. even he wheezes a bit as he takes his fair share, which makes matt feel better.

“how do you feel bro?” nathan asks him through the haze that’s filled the car.

“good. i feel good.” that’s all he can think to say.

and it is nice. everything seems just a little bit lighter. his body feels…loose. matt blinks, and he swears he sees stars behind his eyelids.

you reach up to open the sunroof, letting some fresh air into the car. there’s not a cloud in the sky tonight, and the sound of the waves crashing against the shore calms him.

“one more baby hit, then you’re done.” you pass it to him for the last rotation.

“so bossy.” matt smirks at you, and there’s a humorous glint in your eyes as you watch him take a drag.

he tries impossibly hard to make it look cool, despite almost hacking up a lung and choking on his water. you laugh, but matt somehow understands that you’re not making fun of him by doing so.

chris snatches it from of his hand. “gimme that, it’s almost out.”

it’s like a game of ping pong as matt watches the two of you bounce back and forth, hit after hit. the joint dwindles and finally dies a minute later. you toss the burnt remains into a dunkin bag from god knows how long ago before slipping the lighter back into the pouch.

“alright, matt. time for you to switch with me big boy.” nathan reminds him, turning to open his car door.

matt follows his lead. his body feels like it’s three feet behind his brain, like his consciousness is just a few seconds faster. his legs wobble as his feet hit the ground, but he manages to steady himself, hand against the car as he moves.

nate walks him to the door just in case, and matt stumbles into his new home in the back, laughing at himself under his breath. you help him sit upright in the middle seat, reaching across his body to get to the belt.

“lift your arm.” you tell him, and even though he doesn’t want to, he listens.

you pull the buckle around and click it into place so he’s properly strapped in, doing it for him like he’s a toddler or something.

this is an action he’d normally protest, but he’s solely focused on how close together you are. he can feel the heat radiating from your body as your shoulder presses against his, knees knocking together as he gets comfortable.

“how are you doing? everything okay?” you ask lowly, looking up at him through those long lashes.

he can see the red tinging your eyes, and his own feel droopy as he continues to stare. matt just can’t help it. you look so gorgeous, somehow even more so when you’re both faded.

“cat got your tongue?” you joke, head tilted back to rest against the seat as nate puts the car in reverse.

“you’re pretty.” it slips out before he can stop it, and yet he’s too high to care.

your eyes go a little wide, and your lips part slightly as you suck in a breath. he wants to kiss you so bad, to get rid of the centimeters of space between you and just press his mouth to yours.

“and you’re stoned.” you smile a bit and look away, trying to play it off.

“but i’m serious.” he doubles down, and you glance at him once more with those fucking bambi eyes.

you shake your head and place your hand on his thigh. “i promise you’re not.”

it ignites a fire in his stomach, one that won’t die down. he wants to move his hips, to feel some sort of friction against your palm. but he holds still, even despite how much he needs you.

“you don't know me.” matt hears his words slur together slightly as he speaks.

“i definitely do.” you argue.

“fine, but you can’t possibly guess what’s going on in my head.”

matt’s still not sure where any of this is coming from, or why he’s saying it to you now, but the word vomit won’t stop.

you shrug, squeezing his thigh lightly. he shifts a little bit, trying not to get too worked up over the pressure.

“i guess that’s true. so what are you thinking?”

matt glances up front at his brother and his best friend, and he knows neither of them are paying attention to the two of you. they’re too busy singing piña colada by yung pinch to care.

he hears you hum a little bit of the chorus under your breath as you wait for his response.

“i’m thinking about you.” he finally admits, leaning over so he can say it directly into your ear.

he can smell your rose shampoo, the fading hints of flowery perfume on your skin. it’s intoxicating, being near you like this.

you move your hand off his leg to shove his chest playfully. “shut up.”

the city blurs by as nate continues to drive, and matt admires the way the light from the street lamps dance across your face.

“why don’t you believe me?” he mumbles, barely audible over the combination of the breeze and the music.

“because you’re high as a kite, i can see it written all over your face.”

“doesn’t mean i’m lying.”

you study his face like you’re trying to find the truth in it. he can’t help but grin, because you’re so fucking clueless, and it makes you smile right back.

“touché.”

[writeoffside]

DOCUMENTS AND DESTINIES, part two

♯ battinson!bruce wayne x fem!reader - 2/?

PART ONE < here

summary: Continuation of part one of documents and destinies — The mentioned visitor comes to give you another visit after he comes in to return the files he had borrowed few days ago, both of you unaware to the forming interest inbetween the two of you

warnings: none - just swearing

info: english isn't my first language, i apologize in advance for all the mistakes (if there are any!)

a/n: part two finally woooo!!!! i loved writing angus so much, he is so silly:D i hope ur gonna like this chapter :))))

He couldn't stop thinking about that day. It's been nearly five days since he last saw you, as well for the first time.

He couldn't shake that whole moment from his thoughts. He imagined that little awkward wave you both gave to each other. The little smiles you threw. The whole interaction with you. He couldn't stop thinking about it.

He had work to do. He's read throughout the whole files he borrowed. Made copies of them, which he then gave to Alfred to check through them as well. Even as he was working, he couldn't stop his thoughts to wander to that interaction.

"Bruce?" A familiar voice sounded in the cave, pulling Bruce out of his thoughts. Alfred stepped out of the elevator and walked towards his hunched over frame.

"I was wondering if you've—" He stopped himself as he came to stand by Bruce. His eyes catching a certain video on one of the monitors in front of them, playing with the reddish filter over. The video was replaying on a loop. It was clearly a video from Bruce's eye lenses... Which held the interaction.

The screen showed the video where you stood in front of him. Your coat and bag drapped in your grasp and little smile plastered on your face. The video replayed the shared awkwardness you both had.

Bruce didn't even bother to look over at Alfred, who stood next to him. He didn't turn away from the monitors in front of him. He takes a step closer and observes the video in front of him. A hum makes its way from him as he watches the recording play.

Bruce finally shuts off the video and sighs as he does so. The memory stays in his head— the hesitant smiles, the eye contacts you've both had, awkward little waves... It plays over, over and over again. He remains silent, his eyes still glued to the monitor, where the video was shown before.

"Alfred," he finally breathed out as he turned his head to the side to look at his butler, who is standing there and leaning against the cane he holds.

"Maybe... Maybe it's time for a break, Bruce," he tells him as he puts a gentle reassuring hand onto his shoulder and squeezes. His body stiffening quickly at the touch.

A deep hum comes out of his chest and he stands up back onto his height. His eyes fixated on the monitors in front of him.

With no other word uttered, he's swiftly walking away from the butler, towards the elevator hidden in the darkness of the cave. His steps thumping against the hard floor as he walks away. Leaving his butler behind.

As the elevator escalates, the butler takes a step closer to the computers, monitors and more equipment on the table. He eyes the little folder icon on the monitor, which hides away the bright red colored video from the nights before.

He sighs as he reaches for the touchpad of the computer and moves the cursor towards the file what's sat on the screen. He presses the button and the screen lights up, the footage looping back to the beginning of the choosen clip.

There it is.

The screen is lit up with the clip that the young master has replayed countless of times in the past few days. The video doesn't hold the blackness sides of the cowl he wears during the nights. It's not through the eyes of the Vengeance.

But through the eyes of Bruce.

There is a woman, standing by his car, in front of an old apartment building. Her face was shined on by the glow of the city lights, a soft and genuine smile adoring her face.

The butler smiled at the sight. The footage followed all her movements. The way the lingered on her, the way his eyes followed her, how his focus was only on her, it didn't move nor shift. The footage showed how Bruce didn't watch with the cold stare what he had reserved for the criminals or the nights of work. It showed the brighter side.

There wasn't a fight, a crime scene, a chase with the criminals, no action. Just a moment of Bruce's real life, the shared intimate moment filled with the awkwardness and adoration inbetween each other. His usual cold behavior and confidence was replaced by this... Nearly shy, boyish behavior.

Alfred knew that under the footage, there was a smile hidden. A genuine one, not a one given to the cameras. A rare one.

He couldn't quite remember when was the last time Bruce has genuinely smiled like that, especially with a presence of someone else. It was an unique moment to be treasured.

The video played, the red colors shining onto the butler's face as he watched the video play. The woman tilts her head, her arms holding her things even tighter as another chuckle escapes her lips.

Then he heard it. Bruce's breathy laugh sounded in the video, as his head hangs down, his eyes adverting from the woman. The awkwardness breaking into something even more. It sounded natural, genuine. He knew Bruce for nearly his whole life, he knew that it was hard and and difficult for him to open up, let anyone in and hear him out. But this moment, it has changed everything, it was like Bruce was someone else. He had taken that one step that Alfred had always pushed him to take.

A smile tugs onto his lips as he watches the woman slowly take steps backwards, her cheeks brightly colored with a pink color. He couldn't believe that this was his Brice, talking to someone else than him and the common rich men and women he has to speak with other times.

The video ends with Bruce's hand in the view as he waves to the woman, who is already in the building.

It feels different one. The cave feels different. Alfred feels different. It's the same but also different... Everything seemed different at the moment.

The Prince of Gotham, Gotham's Billionaire, the one always hidden in his tower, no emotions showed on his pale face. The straight put answers with no hint of emotions in his voice, to this moment of shared awkward little smiles and conversations.

It was perfect.

With a final look at the footage, Alfred moved towards the elevator that Bruce took some moments ago. A sigh, once again, escapes his lips as he leans onto the cane he holds. His steps echoing in the cave.

He steps into the elevator and leans his back against the wall of it. The elevator began to rise as he pushed the button. The cave disappeared beneath the shadows and darkness as he was carried upstairs to the soft lights of the tower.

Alfred finally saw a different side of the young master. A different path. A one where the the young boy could step out of the way of darkness, where he hides within it, into a something softer, warmer. Something real.

Something human.

"Ring! Ring! Wake up, princess!" a voice pulls you out of the dreamy slumber you fell into. Work has been so exhausting the whole day. The amount of paperworks you had to check through, give to others, run around the building to get old ones, new ones. The amount of papers you've seen today is absurd.

Angus is standing infront of you. His wide toothy white smile on his face. The blonde hair slicked back with two straids falling on the side. Round glasses are perched on top of his nose. He's wearing a pastel brown suit jacket and a brighter pastel colored suit pants. A white button up underneath, with a black suit-tie with goldenish stripes peeking out.

"Fuck... What time is it?" you murmured out, pulling your head up from the table. Scretching your arms into the air as you lean back into the chair. Your hands fumbling over the mess of paperworks on the table, trying to find the hidden phone burried underneath all of them.

"It's nearly seven... But that's not the point, princess. You were supposed to send out the emails for the marketing shit that our boss is having... Like, two hours ago?" He leaned onto the doorframe and put his hand onto his side as he eyed you.

Two half-lidded blinking eyes stared back at him. Not awake enough to process the things he's saying.

You hummed as you slid away from the table on the chair. You spun around once and turned back to him and stared at the blonde man.

"And... I really need you to send out those emails! At the end of the day, at least, so we can finally finalize the last parts of the marketing thing! You know how angry Daniel gets if the—" He kept going, oblivious to the fact that the girl hasn't been listening to him for the whole time.

"Yeah! Got it! But first, let me just sleep for like... Five more minutes? I'll get back to it, Angie." You yawned and leaned your head onto the headrest of the chair. Your eyes closing. The weight of the whole day was coming back onto you, the exhaustion taking over once again.

There was a long pause between you, until it was interrupted by Angus clearing his throat awkwardly into the moment.

"Also," he began saying as he walked into the office and halfly sat onto your desk. His voice and tone sounding different than moments ago.

"Why the fuck did Bruce Wayne take you home few days ago?"

Your eyes snapped open at that sentence. Your whole body shooting up from the chair, making it slide back into the wall behind you. Your stomach twisted and heart skipped a beat.

Your hands went up to your head as you stared back at him with widened eyes. Your hands cluthing at your hair as you vividly remembered the night before. The night you met Bruce Wayne. The night he literally drove you home.

"Girl, don't look at me that way! That man literally picked you up bridal style, asked where exactly you lived and then he proceeded to walk out with you in his arms like in some fucking rom-com!" He threw his hands up into the air, his toothy smile back on his face as he spoke loudly.

"You saw that..." You mumbled as you turned around and walked around the office with your hands on your head. You couldn't believe the fact, that he carried you! In bridal style! And Into his car!

"Yeah, I fucking did! What the hell is going on in your damned life?" He spoke as he watched you pace around the office.

"Also, since when are you two on a fucking first-name and get-carried-home-like-a-fucking-disney-princess basis with the Gotham's billionaire prince?" His grin widened even more. Clearly enjoying this situation than you.

You rubbed your eyes hardly as you processed what he was currently saying to you. You weren't even hundred percent sure why he needed those archive files, let alone sure why he literally decided to personally carry you home. It didn't make any sense to you at the moment.

"I guess, he just felt bad leaving me alone asleep down there? He was just a client, he was there for work!" You shrugged your shoulders, trying to play it off while your thoughts were screaming and rumbling in your head.

"Right. Sure! That fucking explains why he was so kind enough to ask where you live and scoop you up like a damn damsel in distress. Jesus Christ!" He raised his voice as he threw his hands into air once again, "totally normal worker-client relationship stuff, yeah!"

"Okay, listen! I fell asleep, he picked me up, I don't know else I promise! When I woke up I was already in his car." You groaned as you walked back to your chair and fell into it, sliding even further against the wall.

"C'mon, princess! Bruce Wayne doesn't just show up out of nowhere and carry people home for fun!" He scoffed as he leaned towards you on top of your desk, that he's currently sat on top of.

You groaned once more and laid back into the chair, "Can we not? Please? I'm too tired for this."

Another scoff came out of Angus and he jumped off the desk and walked over to be in front of you, "Oh no, princess. I need answers! You don't just fall asleep at work and then wake up being carried by the Gotham's Prince, girl." He chuckled as he leans onto the side of her desk.

"Oh my god." He suddenly whispered. His mouth dropping open and hands coming to hold himself against the desk behind him.

"Are you secretly dating Bruce Wayne?"

The question came the most unexpected. His whole stance was stoic like he suddenly came to realization. Like a chikd discovering that it was their parents putting money under their pillow, not a tooth fairy. His eyes widened and mouth dropped.

"What the fuck?" You opened your eyes and started laughing loudly. Your hands coming in front of your mouth as you let out all your laughter.

"Okay, sorry, I just don't get it! But some of us wake up with fucking paperworks sticked to our faces or keyboard marks all over our faces. You wake up in car of a billionaire!" His eyes were practically bulging out of his head as he spoke. His hands gesturing around in the air.

"Do you realize how insane you sound, Angie?" You cannot comprehend all the wild theories coming out of mouth. He's fully in his own world with those theories.

"No, listen! What if he's testing you out for a new job at some high position at the Wayne Enterprises? No, no, no... Maybe, he's planning to make you his new secret muse! Or maybe, he thinks you're, like, the best new face of Vogue couple cover! Like... Imagine the headlines; The billionaire Bruce Wayne in relationship with an unknown girl—"

"I will pretend I never heard what just left your mouth." You breathe out as you slide your chair to him, pushing at his knees to get him off your desk. Your hands slapping his thighs.

"Sorry, princess. But there's no chance, that we're done talking about this!" He finally jumps off the desk and walks around towards the door, he touches the door frame and takes a last look at you with that toothy grin of his... And then he's gone.

The office is quiet once again. Some of the paperworks ended up crumbled as he was sat atop of. With an exhausting sigh, she drops her head against the desk and it lads with a thump!

It was late now. The office has gone even more quiet than usually. You were packing up, shoving the paperworks, files and the dark-purple colored folder into your bag. Already excited to go run through the door and go straight home, leave the day behind.

As you put the final folder into your bag a soft knock came from the doorway.

Your head snapped up to see the person. Your breath suddenly getting caught in your throat as you recognized the man, who just knocked on the office doorframe.

Standing there is the devil himself, Bruce Wayne.

He stood there, his arm up at the place of the doorframe, where he knocked onto few seconds before. As you looked at him, you could see his posture was different than last time. Less professional. His presense wasn't commanding and calm, but more of a hesitant one. His eyes scanning around the office and then landing back onto you.

He was wearing a white button-up shirt with a matching tie, underneath a dark buttoned suit vest. On top of it was a brown leather jacket. It was so much different outfit than the last time you saw him. His pants were baggier, but not as baggy as others wear. The top of his shoes were peeking out from the bottom of his pants.

You slowly stood up back to your height and blinked at the sight.

"Mr. Wayne— What... What are you doing here?" You stammered out with a quick clear of throat. Shifting on your weight slightly as you eyed the visitor.

"I'm about to return these," he said, mentioning his chin towards the files in his arms, "I borrowed them few days ago... From archives."

Your eyes flickered down to the files and realization came over you. He had actually taken some of the files home from the archives, probably already taken copies of them. You still wondered why he needed those archive files, when they haven't been updated nor opened in years.

"Oh! Those files! Thank you, Mr. Wayne!" you spoke as you flicked him a soft smile and walked over to take the files from his hands.

As you walked to him, he slowly entered the office, his gaze flickering around as if he was trying to find something interesting to gawk at other than you. But he couldn't find anything else, his gaze flickered back onto you and his eyes burned holes into yours.

"So," you began as you reached for the files, "did you find what you needed in them?"

"Yes, I did. Thank you." He paused and let go of the files as you took them from his hands. As the files fell right into your hands, the dust went flying around. Your face scrunching up as the dusk flew around.

"These are, like, ancient! Right?" A chuckle escaped your lips as you rambled, "I mean, woah. How are they still holding up? Looks like they would turn into dust as well!" You rambled more as you held onto the files.

His lips quirked into a little soft smile, his gaze on you, watching your every move. He leaned onto his leg as he stood in front of you.

"Yeah," he said softly, after a longer pause, he added "Are you embarrassed?"

Your heart felt like it stopped for a brief moment as those words left his mouth. Your eyes widened and your fingers gripped the dusty yellow papered files. "W-What? No. Why would I—" You stuttered out and then sighed, "Okay, maybe a little bit."

He raised an eyebrow at that, the faint smirk coming onto his face with a hint of amusement in it, "because of the files?"

A chuckle came out of your mouth at that, your mind was racing at this conversation, unsure what to say and what to not say. You could feel the color heating up on your cheeks. Your eyes moving everywhere but at him.

"I just didn't expect you to literally, you know! Carry me out of archives and then drive me home!" you said, your vocie mixed with embarrassment and awkwardness. It came flooding at you, the embarrassment of him, Bruce fucking Wayne, lifting you and carrying you like some helpless little figure, while you were asleep!

Your fingers were fumbling with the ends of the files and papers sticking out of them. Trying to distract yourself from this snd save yourself from another embarrassment. Your heart was pounding hardly in your chest, you hoped he couldn't hear it.

After a long pause, he finally spoke.

"You were exhausted." He said, almost in shy manner, "I couldn't just leave you there, asleep by yourself in the archives."

You chuckled nervously and shifted on your legs, "Still, I don't usually wake up to be driven home in billionaire's car!" A nervous chuckle escaped your lips.

He let out a soft laugh as well, "Well, you looked exhausted. I didn't want to wake you up and tell you to walk back... You needed the rest."

You felt a wave of relief come over you.

"Well. Thank you, Mr. Wayne," you said softly, "I was mortified when I woke up in your car, but... I appreciate it. Thank you." You smiled up at him, your eyes meeting his.

His gaze was soft, a little smile on his lips, his eyes held yours as he stared down. Then, with a small nod of his head, he said, "You don't need to be embarrassed. It's the least I could do. You work hard."

"I guess I do, Mr. Wayne. Maybe, you know... I should leave the office at time, huh?" You chuckled at that, smile plastered on your face.

"That would be nice," Bruce nods with a chuckle. Both of you shared a soft laugh. Both of you genuinely smiling at each other. The tension between them easing.

"I should get going." He says with a sigh as he stands back straight. His hands coming to his jacket to straight it out. His eyes leaving yours.

You smiled and nodded with a little 'yeah, me too.'

It felt surreal at that moment. You and Bruce Wayne talking once again. You knew that Angus will storm into your office once again and ask tons of questions about this.

As he leaves, he gives you a small glance and a small smile. And then he's gone. Not in your sight anymore. Your hands are sweaty against the files and you feel like your legs are wobbly. The sound of his footsteps fading down the hallfway as he leaves.

Another realization came drawing over you, his voice. His tone. The softness of his voice today, not demanding like the last time. Today it was near, of a shy one. A slight hesitation in his voice. That send a warmth all over your body, your cheeks gaining the redish colour once again. Flushed all over again.

You, finally, forced yourself to move. You turned around and dropped the dusty files onto your desk, sighing as you did so. The dust flying everywhere around the office. You slumped into your chair, sliding few steps back, staring blankly at the files he returned. It felt strange. He was just a client. He was there for work.

Right?

With a quick glance around your office, you stood up and pushed the chair back to its place. Grabbing your back and slinging it over your shoulder with a huff. There was no point of staying there longer, processing the day. You can do that home!

The building was already quiet, The only loud thing at the moment was your own mind. Your thoughts racing each other.

You stepped out of the office, locking it behind yourself. Your steps were wuick as you left the building into the cold breeze, it felt nice though. Cooling down the redness in her cheeks. Pulling the coat tighter around you as you walk down the pavement towards the nearest entrance of subway.

Your steps were quick, the heels clicking with each step you take. Almost hurriedly. Your thoughts were everything as you processed the day.

You walked around the entrance of the subway, nearly colliding with another man coming out of the entrance. You neay fall into him, making him let out an angry 'Watch where you go, damnit!"

A soft apology leaves your lips as you descend the stairs down to the subway. You fumble with the subway card as you tap it absentmindedly before you go through the turnstile. You go to the side where you would be getting on in few minutes. You lean against one of the cold pillars on the station as you wait. The station is pretty quiet for the night, not many people there.

The screech of an incoming train snaps you out of your racing thoughts. You quickly push yourself off the pillar and come to stand at the end of the line, waiting for the train to srrive at its position. Quickly pushing the button to open the doors as you move inside. Thankfully found a seat alone. You plump down onto it with a sigh as you lean yourself onto it. The doors close with a loud sound and the train moves, leaving into the dark tunnels of underground Gotham.

By the time the train reached your stopc, you were hurriedly out. Walking straight to your apartment.

Unknown to the man following your every step, perched on top of one of the buildings in the darkness, invisible in the shadows of Gotham.

To you the day ended, ready to sleep it all off. But for him, it just began.

NOTE FOR OUTFITS :)

what angus is wearing >>> angus' outfit

what bruce is wearing >>> bruce's outfit (with less baggier pants though)

౨ৎ⋆˚｡⋆

part twooooo is here:) i hope you like as much as i did writing it! sorry for the wait xx

give it some love if u liked it thank uu <3

[indiefilmfatale]

words of so sweet breath compos'd

part one (prof!cumberbatch x virgin!reader)

plot: your drama teacher, mr. cumberbatch, swears he can pull something out of you for your upcoming performance as ophelia in hamlet. all he needs is a handful of one-on-one sessions... content warnings: graphic language, flirting, drunk!reader, age gap, pot smoking, reader wears a tiny lil skirt, reader is a virgin word count: 2.8k a/n: i can only guarantee a couple of chapters but strap in folks! this is just the beginning

A warm, chatty haze floats around the Georgian mansion. The place is crowded, and even in your drunken state of mind, you know there's more people here than are in the drama department.

You're sat on a large, old couch in a corner of a room. The light keeps changing colors, from pink, to purple, to green, then back again. Your blinks are slow, and your gaze is out of focus.

"Woooo!" A enthusiastic scream knocks you out of your trance, and you realize whoever you're sharing this couch with is snorting something white on the glass coffee table. Part of you is intrigued, almost asks to join in. But most of you just wishes you were home.

You stand up shakily, tipsily stalking away from temptation. You pull out your phone. Uber tells you it'll be over an hour for a car. Your best bet is finding your friends. Where were your friends?

You're just standing there, in the middle of the room, wobbling from one foot to the other. No wonder you catch the eye of the stoned professor making his way toward the exit.

"Y/N?" A deep voice calls out, echoing. "You okay?"

You barely recognized your professor at first. Usually he was clad in the typical professor attire: Dark sweaters, tweed blazers, khakis. The final performance of the drama department's autumn show Hedda Gabler required something more elegant, even for the director. He went with a simple brown suit.

But the performance ended hours ago, and what was left of your professor's ensemble was something a bit more unkempt. His collar unbuttoned, tie loosened, and suit jacket draped over his arm. His dark curls, usually styled cleanly and away from his face, was a tad disheveled, like he had been sweating. A single curl dangled into his forehead. His five o'clock shadow was setting in.

"Professor?" You call back, small voice drowned out by bumping music. Despite your heart rate beating on the slow side, it managed to flutter at the realization that he was walking toward you.

Everyone in that course had a crush on Benedict Cumberbatch. Maybe it was the cheekbones, or the way his arms looked when he would shed his blazer and roll up his shirt sleeves during rehearsal. Maybe it was the way he was able to dictate the energy of the room, just from the tone in his voice. You felt an unconscious loyalty toward him, even if that loyalty was coaxed in desire.

He tries to speak to you as he comes closer, but the music blasts through the next room. "What?" You shout unabashedly, almost stumbling over before--

Two pairs of arms catch you, hold you, while you regain your balance. You let out an embarrassed giggle. The room spins around you, but Benedict remains close and still.

He leans in and presses his cheek against your hair, "Where's Bridget? You came here with Bridget, yeah?"

You catch a large whiff of skunk and a smaller whiff of the sandalwood cologne he's been known to wear. It's intoxicating, and it takes everything in you not to press your nose against his neck and breathing him in completely. You bring your lips to his ear and reply, "You smell like fun." A wide, typsy smile spreads across your face as you pull your head back. "Do you have any more?"

You watch his face contort in thought. His eyebrow furrows at first when he realizes what you said, then softens as his eyes meet yours. He chuckles, blinking himself out of his head. "Let's go outside."

He guides you past the music, past a dance floor, past the bar, through two grand doors where a soft breeze hits your face, arms, and legs. You let out a long sigh, basking in the night air as you walk down the marble porch stairs, until you can hear gravel under your shoes.

Your professor remains at the top of the steps, pulls out a cigarette from his pants pocket and lights it was he watches you roam free. "Have you taken anything?" He calls out.

Your voice is small in the short distance between the two of you, too lazy to raise it above a conversational tone. "Just those fruity little cocktails that Bridget kept making. Unlike you, Professor..." You weakly point your finger in his direction. He sighs, squints away out of bashfulness but returns an amused gaze back to you.

You walk back toward him, clinging to the handle as you stalk up the stairs. "Bit of a weakness for Miss Mary Jane, hm? Care you share with the rest of the class?"

He's unable to hold back a laugh, then holds his lit cigarette between his lips while he digs through the pockets of the jacket over his arm to pull out a metal cigarette case. Except when he pops it open, four neatly-rolled joints greet you.

"So classy," You chuckle, taking a joint from his collection and turning on your heal, walking down the stairs again. "C'mon, this'll straighten me out."

You hear footsteps on the gravel behind you, following you. "Where are we going?" Benedict asks.

"Away from this monstrous mansion," You stomp, pulling up the dress strap that was beginning to falter off your shoulder. "It goes against everything I believe in. D'you have a light?"

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

"No! No way!" Professor Cumberbatch argues, smoke pouring out of his mouth. He clears his throat, then laughs, "No fucking way, Y/N."

"C'mon, you're going to make me beg? Please, Professor, please tell me what the Spring show is, please." You clasp your palms together, mimicking prayer, but keeping your elbows down as to not knock off the suit jacket that was draped over your shoulders. "I won't tell a soul, I promise."

He smirks as he takes another hit. He'd be lying if he said he didn't enjoy the state of you right now; untamed, begging him, your arms subtly pressing your breasts together to reveal the sweetest bit of cleavage over the neckline of your dress. He drinks you in with his eyes, and you can feel it.

Benedict exhales a cloud of smoke, "How come you're never like this in class?" He offers you back the joint.

You regain your posture, suddenly hyper aware of yourself. You take the joint, "I don't know." You inhale a long hit. "Because I don't usually have six cocktails in me."

"No, I suppose not." He leans back against the large oak tree you were seeking shelter under. "But it's nice to know you're capable of some sort of fluidity. You're always so stiff, like you're afraid to say your next line."

You blink at him, masking the tendency to feel hurt by the warmth of acknowledgment. "I'm surprised you noticed. Here I was thinking I was never going to catch your eye." You throw back at him, taking another hit.

"What caught my eye was your potential."

You stare at each other as you hand him the joint back, his fingers brushing past yours as he takes it. He never breaks eye contact as he inhales, and your eyes wander to his lips, to his neck, to his hands, back to his eyes.

He lets the smoke pour out of his throat, slowly, controlled. "I'll tell you what," He cocks his head in your direction. "I'll tell you what the Spring show is..."

"Yes!" You pump your fist, giggling to yourself.

"—But," he continues, "You have to attend a number of solo lessons, with me, to work on your part."

You furrow your brow, only retaining half of his sentence, "I have a part?"

He chuckles, "Yes, but only if you work with me on it. I have a very specific idea for Ophelia and if you're really ready to buckle down—"

"I'm sorry, I'm playing Ophelia?" Your smile grows even wider. "Oh my god, we're doing Hamlet. Bridget's going to lose her fucking mind!"

"—You can't tell anyone until after I announce. Seriously, it's already above my pay grade to direct the bloody shows, I don't need any actor drama affecting the rest of my casting choices."

"I won't, I won't." You whimper, gleefully. Finally, you whisper, "Thank you." Your professor breaks into a smile. "You're welcome."

You take what is left of the joint that was dangling between his fingers down his side, and proudly inhale the last hit before flicking it to the ground. "And to think, I almost tried to sleep with you tonight."

He hums. His brow raised in surprise, but a smile creeping onto his face. "And to think, I almost let you."

You bit your lip, stifling a giggle as the two of you made your way back to the party.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

Two weeks went by in a flash. A few days at the parents' house for Christmas, then back in your campus apartment preparing for the next semester. You'd already bought a script for Hamlet.

You had gotten an email the day before your classes begin.

Tuesdays and Thursdays 6PM, rehearsal room 3. Try to have your lines for Act 1 memorized

Best, Benedict

You took note that he signed his name Benedict as opposed to Professor Cumberbatch and wondered if it was an attempt to form a more casual relationship between you two. You hoped so.

You hadn't been able to stop thinking about him throughout the entirety of your winter break. His hands, his eyes. You were dying to have those eyes on you again, as intently as he looked at you the night of the cast party.

You were silently begging for it during your first class of Acting Technique II. Sitting in the third row from the back, watching him walk around the small stage lecturing about Stanislavski's System. But he never so much as glanced at you, leaving you in a cold heat, clenching your thighs together in your chair.

That was Monday. Today was Tuesday, and you wondered around the drama department's second floor, miniskirt swaying with your hips as you walked. You knew what you were doing, contemplative of the way the skirt hugged your figure, wearing your best bra underneath a black leotard. Rehearsal-wear, you told yourself, adjusting your breasts so that they reveal the perfect amount of cleavage.

Completely inappropriate for January, which is why you covered yourself with a thick ankle-length coat.

When you found rehearsal room 3, the door was slightly ajar.

You pushed it open to find two folding chairs in the center of the room, and Professor Cumberbatch sitting in one of them, reading a script.

"I'm not late, am I?" You say as you push the door open.

He doesn't check his watch, "No, no." He sits up properly, folding his script over his leg. "Come sit." He's wearing his glasses, you notice, something he typically reserves for moments of serious concentration.

You let your school bag fall off of your shoulder and you drop it to the floor, making your way toward the empty chair across from him. You shimmied off your giant coat and wrapped around the back of the chair. You feel his eyes on you immediately, like the warmth of a spotlight.

When you sat, your bare knees were only inches away from him. You take a breath.

Benedict clears his throat. "You don't need to be nervous." He says, amused at your awkwardness. "You certainly weren't nervous when you asked to smoke my pot last month."

"You're right, I should've had a shot of vodka before coming here." You quip back.

"No, no, we'll get you there. So—" He stood up from his chair, only to walk around it and stand behind, arms crossing over his chest. You feel his eyes on you again. "What stands out to you, about Ophelia?"

You think, carefully. "Obedience. Desperation. Shame. Then, inevitably, a disintegration."

"But..." Your professor leads, slowly walking around the chairs.

"She has an ego. She can be, almost, proud. I mean, she's fragile, yes, but not like a glass cup is fragile. More like, a metal cup that's filled to the brim. And then—"

"She spills." You hold your breath as his voice rings through your skull. He sits back down across from you.

"Have you had sex, Y/N?"

Your mouth falls agape, blinking a few times to actually resonate what he's asked you. "Uhm, uh,"

"Look, I should make something clear." Benedict scratches the back of his neck. "You have the part. I know you can do it. You don't have to attend these sessions if you don't want to." He sighs, placing both hands on his thighs. "But... I see something in you, Y/N. An honest performer. And in order to be honest on a stage, in front of an audience of people, you have to first be honest here, in the workshops, building the character. Without these sessions, I'm sure you'll go out there and put on a great, willful performance. But if you want to create something, if you want to create Ophelia, with me..."

He leans in, just a few inches. "You should stay."

Neither of you move for a moment, both of you waiting for the other to say something. You take a controlled breath, considering running out of the room, or grabbing his face and kissing him into oblivion. Instead, you break the silence.

"I've never..." is all you can manage, gaze falling toward the floor.

Your professor does well in hiding his satisfaction, except for his bottom lip tucking into his top lip, just a tiny bit, lubricating the skin gently. He knew it, he knew it from the second he saw you.

"Anything?" He offers quietly, afraid to scare you.

You sigh, feeling defeated. "Just a decade-long love affair with my right hand, I'm afraid."

He chuckled, and the tension in the air deflated a bit. "Do you know why?" You shook your head, "That's an odd question."

"Have you had opportunities that you turned down? Is there something, someone, holding you back?"

"I guess, I never put myself in situations where I would have an opportunity." "I found you stumbling drunk, all by yourself, in the middle of a party."

"A consensual opportunity, Professor. I never said I wasn't reckless."

"Hm," He hums, leaning back in his chair. "Have you ever had a boyfriend?" "Boys never liked in me in school. Never really figured out how to make a boy like me, in fact," You feign innocence.

"Oh, please." He rolled his eyes. "Look at you."

"What?" You looked down at yourself, and though you knew what you were doing wearing such a short skirt, you suddenly become aware of just how much leg you're showing off.

"You're clearly capable in the art of seduction, at least to a level that appeases your average college-aged boy."

"I don't want to appease the average college-aged boy."

"Well clearly, you're trying to appease somebody."

"Are you accusing me of something, Professor?" You ask sweetly.

He's at a loss for words, swallowing spit as he watches you twiddle your thumbs on your lap. Benedict knows you won't make a move, take this any further unless you're led there. He's getting dangerously comfortable with the idea of running his hand up that tiny skirt you wore just for him.

"Let's run some lines." He suddenly stands from his chair, walking over to the other side of the room.

You stay seated for a beat, not wanting to leave the moment you were just in.

"C'mon," he ushers you softly. You sigh, and stand up.

The next hour was filled with back-and-forth on dialect and tone, perfecting Ophelia's fragility in her voice. Just after 7:30, he glances down at his watch.

"That felt short." You say bluntly, watching him pick his script off of the floor and walk over to where he left his stuff.

"Don't worry, we'll be back here in two days, as long as you memorize the rest of the first act." He packs his script into his briefcase.

You shift your weight between your feet, feeling the paper of your own script between your fingers. You take a breath, almost completely holding yourself back, but then— "Could you tell? That I never had sex?"

He freezes for a second, then continues putting on his coat before turning around to face you. "I could."

You chuckle awkwardly, "What gave me away?"

He's thinking of all the things he can't say. "The first time we spoke, just before class started in September, do you remember that?"

You were sure he had forgotten. "I almost tripped on that damn crack in the tiles by your door. You caught me." You blinked, remembering the night at the party, how you stumbled into his arms drunkenly. "You keep catching me.

Benedict nodded as he tucked down his coat collar, arms finally resting at his sides. "It felt like I could do anything to you, right there, and you'd let me." He says, hesitating in his spot just to keep looking at you, dumbfounded and completely captivated.

But then he throws the strap of his briefcase over his shoulder. "See you Thursday." And then walks out of the room, shutting the door behind him.

read part two here

[tartagluvr]

welcome back to the devildom

this part covers lesson 1-1 through 1-12. spoiler warnings for anything included in that span.

woooo tete actually finished a piece! and then everyone clapped. if you aren't aware, this piece is part of an ongoing series of me rewriting and expanding on scenes from nightbringer that i think lack emotional depth/just need more. explanation + masterlist!

warnings: no big ones here, just angst and emotional turmoil, i hate capital letters so, mc is gender neutral, no beta we die like my love for omswd after they added ten million chapters and dipped

word count: 4323

just a moment ago, your phone was in hand, text thread with a friend staring back at you. now, you lay haphazardly on some kind of uncomfortable wooden ground as vague and distant voices reach your ears.

as you blink away blurry hues of sleep, lord diavolo stands over your form. it takes a moment to adjust to your surroundings, quickly taking note that the lord is in his demon form. something must have happened- this is not an every day sight. shuffling to pull your tired body off the ground, you meet his gaze. "thank goodness," he speaks with a small smile. "you're awake."

as you open your mouth to speak, the lord cuts you off. 'you've been out cold this entire time. we were really beginning to worry." his words send a strange feeling up your spine, head turning past his wings to notice the brothers also in full demon form are here as well. lucifer looks displeased with whatever this situation is, mammon and leviathan both look you up and down, asmodeus just looks like…well, asmodeus, and the twins are stood together seeming uninterested. it does not go unmissed that satan appears to be not present. words are falling from mammon's lips, but you do not hear. your eyes continuously scan the room, scrambling to remember anything about how you got here and were knocked out.

"wait, mammon. they don't seem to know where they are." a gloved hand is placed against mammons tanned chest, stopping his approach. you know that's lucifer speaking, so why doesn't it sound like him? something is laced within his words that you don't think has ever made an appearance. the group seems to fall into rapidfire questions and concerns, belphegor asking if you're lost.

"lost?" you finally find your voice, though it is smaller than ever. "they smell good for a lost demon, i wonder if they are hiding some good food." beelzebub's voice is deeper. the look in his eyes as you meet them with your own hungrier than you've known.

"i-" "this facility is currently under construction, and under the direct authority of the demon king. what are your intentions of being here?" the lord has an authoritative twinge to his voice. this must be some kind of fucked up dream- or maybe solomon managed to poison you all once more with some stupid enchanted muffins. regardless, you struggle to find words as the seven demons all stare down at you. a beat of silence passes before your phone dings in your pocket, the sound nearly causing you to jump. instinctively it is pulled out, and an unregistered contact pops up to greet you.

'pleased to see you. shall i take you someplace you will be happy? somewhere that will bring you more joy than any other. a world you desire and where you will be desired.'

a short text is typed in response, demanding to know who they are. and as quickly as you had replied, more texts fly onto your screen.

'i clearly have you worried, don't i? well, there's no need to be. nothing remains hidden from me. i see everything. nevertheless, we shouldn't keep them waiting. you have received a second chance at a fated meeting. do you understand?'

a picture is sent at the end of the influx of messages, your beloved seven staring at you from the screen. your eyes look up from the image to them standing in front of you, then back down. 'i don't understand.'

'let me rephrase then. the people you meet here, you are fated to form a deep bond with. i shant tell you my name. just know that you will be entering your own past. or the time of someone you don't know. but never fear, they will always be there waiting for you.'

no more messages come in. as you look up from your phone once more, you meet the lord's eyes and feel yourself freeze up. "i apologize my lord, my friend sent me an address to meet them but it appears i got it wrong." as strongly as you try to mask your fear in a bold face lie, it wafts off you in every direction. the lord seems to ponder your words before nodding slowly, his arms falling to his sides. "i don't believe we have ever met before, which is strange as i know every demon in the devildom- nevertheless, i am diavolo, the next in line to rule the devildom…" he goes off into an all too familiar tangent of each demon brother and their respective sin. "there is one more brother, but he isn't-" a loud noise cuts his speech off, startling you. it seems to have come from the halls leading to this room, which you are now beginning to recognize as the council room of RAD. "speak of the devil…" as bewildering as this whole exchange is, you have to stifle a laugh at belphegor's joke.

satan himself bursts forward into the bones of a room, a look of true rage on his face. a heavy sigh falls from lucifers lips at this. "asmodeus, you did make sure those chains were tight enough, didn't you?" at his words a scowl crosses your features. "why would he be chained up?" its a quiet comment to yourself more than anything else, but diavolo hears.

"that demon is satan, child. the avatar of wrath himself. when i stated that lucifer had another brother, he is who i was referencing." he pauses, turning to glance at satan as if waiting for him to pounce before turning back. "they have all just arrived to the devildom." you nod as if any of his words even make sense. it really is starting to feel like some fucked up nightmare of being thrown into the past, right when the brothers lost the great celestial war and fell. something about this dream just feels so real. "avatar of wrath. i understand." your head is still nodding, eyes trained on satan behind diavolo as lucifer and mammon attempt to wrangle him into submission. this moment is so personal, so raw, that you consider looking away. as if this isn't something satan would want you to see.

with you lost in thought, satan manages to escape his older brothers grips and launches at belphegor. beelzebub is body blocking him in an instant, shielding the youngest. "thanks, beel." belphegor grunts out a praise to his twin while catching his breath. the force had nearly knocked you to the ground just from the sheer mass right next to you, beelzebub turning to you now. "are you okay too? sorry about that." rapidly your head nods with wide eyes. the tall demon sighs in relief, a smile on his face. "i'm glad. can't have a random demon pulled into our mess of a family."

his words were out of kindness- yet the effect was opposite. 'random demon' pulls at your heart. after all, you are anything but random to this group. you'll wake up eventually though, that thought comforting you. maybe you and the brothers will all laugh about this when you tell them.

"i've just about had it with all of you, this world, everything." satans low growl of a voice bounces off all the scaffolding. his hands raise from his sides as he thrashes free from lucifer's hold, eyes glowing a bright emerald. "i, avatar of wrath, will obliterate every last one of you." a breath hitches in your throat. you've seen satans outbursts, his daily battle with containing the wrath that lives in him. you know he is more than his anger, and that at the end of the day- he didn't ask for any of this. subconsciously you step forward, at the same time that he does. "oh man, we're all dead now!"

your chest suddenly heaves forward, a warm and bright feeling overtaking your entire body. the view from your eyes begins to sharpen, getting clearer and clearer as your eyes meet those dark emerald ones. a single word falls from your lips like instinct. "stay."

the hairs on your neck stand on edge, skin tingling and bubbling with something trying to break out. as if someone inside of you were thrashing about, throwing themselves at your bones to break free. until this moment, you have never felt controlled by your power rather than the other way around. in one single blink, not only is satan dropped from your view and against the floor, but so are all six other brothers. a soft whimper falls into the air as you come down, the faint taste of iron on your tongue. "sorry, so sorry." you stumble over an apology looking at the sight in front of you, mammon beginning to go off on what you've done.

the lord laughing silences him immediately.

"is this- this is funny to you, lord?" lucifer pushes up off the ground, turning to glare at you with his arms crossed roughly. "you. what the hell have you done?" your mouth opens and closes like a fish out of water. because truly, you don't know what just happened. maybe the dream version of you has incredulous power in this way? diavolo's laughter dies down as he speaks. "well (your name), i sure have never met a demon like you. honestly, that was quite the riot."

"yo, what was so funny about that?" mammon grunts through his words as he rises too, one hand rubbing at his cheek from the impact. an apologetic smile is sent in his direction, but he does not seem to accept it.

"something about this meeting feels fated. after all, i myself can't personally watch over you lot." diavolo turns in a circle, surveying the battered up bunch standing around. his eyes turn back to you. "do you think you can handle them the way you just did, for a longer period of time?"

your head tilts to the side. "you mean, babysit them for you…?" the room fills with diavolo's laughter once more. he is nearly folded over into himself, amused greatly at your words. "these demons are new, as you know already. they fought in the great celestial war, and ended up here. things have become very…chaotic, because of this, and i need eyes on them at all times."

the lords speech ends, as if you are supposed to understand what he is insinuating. you don't.

"let me try that again," his arms cross against his chest with a smile. "until things settle down in the devildom, i'd like to ask you to attend to them. become their servant, show them around, the works." belphegor makes some offhanded comment in the back about how they don't need a 'babysitter with freakish powers', which the lord ignores as he bores holes into you with his gaze. waiting for your reply, knowing the answer is already yes. after all, he is the lord of the devildom at the moment. "diavolo, we not need for an attendant. just because we used to be angels doesn't mean you must treat us like children." lucifer all but pleads with him, to no avail. he doesn't break his gaze from you for even a second, not even blinking as he waits.

"i accept."

that would be how you find yourself holding up satan's feet as beelzebub carries him, the rest of the brothers and the lord all in tow behind. after all the commotion and complaints had died down, diavolo insisted you walk with them to the brother's new living situation. you'll need to be familiar with it of course for the job, but you also already know it like the back of your hand. these weird dream versions of the demons don't need to know that. the group makes it back in due time, satan still absolutely out cold from whatever insane magic burst from you earlier. the lord has all of you exchange contact information at the gates of the house of lamentation, giving you all the proper applications and such to reach him directly.

mammon falters at the gates, an expression you know as fear on his face. "hey, its not that bad." you give him a small shrug, his head turning to look at you. diavolo also turns to look at you, confusion on his features before you realize your mistake and rush to correct it. " i mean, looking at it from here, it doesn't look all too bad." he seems to take this answer and move on, you two standing as mammon finally makes his way inside and up towards the house. "you won't be staying with them, (your name)." you stand up a bit straighter at this, mind filling with worry on where the hell to go if not here. 'i, um. don't really have anywhere…"

the lord clasps a hand on your shoulder, leaning down closer to your height with his head tilted. "you don't have a place? no friends you stay with?" he sighs, shaking his head. "i won't pry. you seem young, and when i was younger i used to find myself in runaway situations too. but either way, the house of lamentation is the one place they will have all to themselves so i apologize."

your head nods as he speaks softly, feeling comfortable finally in his presence. "i arranged accommodations for you already, so you musn't worry child."

before you can reply, an all too familiar voice calls out from behind you two. "my goodness. there you are, (your name). i was wondering where you disappeared off to. i was worried, you know!" in tandem, you and the lord both whip around to see solomon walking up with a pained smile on his lips. there also appears to be sweat on his brow- as if he had been running around like crazy. "that was fast, solomon. i wasn't expecting you here yet." the lord's warm hand slides off your shoulder, as he extends it to the sorcerer with a shake. "and you mean to tell me you already know (your name)?"

seeing solomon sends a wave of relief over your entire body. sometime over a year ago now, you two had fiddled around with some dream spells to be able to link up and dream together. so any time you see his face in your dreams- he actually is there. it reassures you in this instance to know he is experiencing this nightmare too, but also that out of anyone in the world he is the one who can force wake you.

"i know them very well, actually. it just so happens that they are my apprentice." the tall sorcerer speaks with a smile, one hand to his chin. your eyes haven't left him since he appeared, though in contrast he has yet to look at you. "isn't that right?" he speaks to you. while still looking at diavolo.

"yes," the words finally find you. "its true, my lord." diavolo is shocked at this revelation, but accepts it as fact with a nod of his head before turning back to solomon. his hands wave in the air for a moment.

"i know you are quite accustomed to outlandish things but…a demon as an apprentice, that is a new for even you." solomon gives a soft laugh at this, slender pale hands moving to rest on his hips. "they're my top student, actually…" you tune out the conversation as they go on and on. staring straight holes through solomon, trying to will him to look at you. to acknowledge how crazy all of this is. to tell you to wake up. you're brought back down into your body when diavolo touches your shoulder once more, bidding you a farewell so he may return to the castle. "i'll be seeing you soon, and i cannot thank you enough for taking on the task at hand." with that, he is gone. you and the tall sorcerer are left in a heavy silence.

he breaks the tension first. "...i'm guessing you have quite the list of questions?"

"you're solomon." you state it as a fact, and his body finally turns so he can meet your eyes. a nod, and then, "yes, i am. and you're (your name), my human friend. not my demon apprentice." he pauses, a hand coming up to reach for your own. though you take a step back out of his grasp before he can touch you, a strange emotion flashing on his face. "i don't like this dream. can you wake me up?"

his hand hangs in the air for a moment, before falling along with his expression.

"no, no i can't." the smile on his face is full of pity, and a deep sense of dread builds up in your core. "this one isn't a dream, i'm afraid. can i walk you home…? and then explain it all, of course." you feet feel as if they were floating above the ground, your body just a ghost stood here. this has to be a dream, but...you know that if solomon is here and can't wake you…

no words come out of your mouth. instead you nod robotically, making no move to walk. solomon sighs and drops his head, hiding his face before reaching forward to grab your arm. the sorcerer practically walks you like a child all the way through the devildom to the housing arrangements, your form rigid and silent. a single puff of wind from his lips could knock you over.

"we're here," his voice is soft and careful as he leads you up and into the building. your eyes gloss over a plaque stating it as 'cocytus hall', but you show no emotion at this. he all but sets you down onto an awkwardly large bed before his hands are off of you. standing back now, he sighs again and shakes his head. "i'm so…sorry, (your name). let me explain." he kneels down in front of you on the bed edge, gently taking your hands in his.

there wasn't really an explanation you had thought of that matched any of what he tells you. not even in your wildest dreams had you ever imagined a scenario like this, yet here you are. the beloved human jewel of the devildom, sent back hundreds of years in the past for God knows why. you learn how solomon followed you here, chasing you through time to cushion the fall and see you make it out alive. there is a pause hanging in the air as he dares to ask how you feel. truthfully, you don't know how you feel. its difficult enough to wrap your head around your time in the devildom as is- but this? this...absolute nightmare hand crafted specifically for you? a warm slice of anger burns your chest, but that feeling begins to evolve into pure rage as he keeps careful watch of your trembling form. "i'm angry," you tell him. "i'm quite angry."

solomon tells you how barbatos helped him dive head first into this concrete slab of a past. "it wasn't easy," he notes with a tut, "though i knew more than anyone that it could only be me following you." the lord of time, essentially father time himself, sent solomon into a potential death trap after you. instead of maybe…pulling you from the past? doing anything at all to get you back? "i don't think i understand, there was nothing more to be done?" your empty eyes look up to his, a matching look in them. the gentle hold of your hands tightens slightly as solomon holds himself at bay.

"any of the brothers from your time coming here would spell trouble, paradoxically so. believe me, all of them would have jumped to follow you if it weren't there own past." his voice is soft, though his words are firm. this is fact to him, and you are to be convinced. you still have yet to be as a retort quickly flies from your lips. "is this not your past as well?"

the sorcerer chooses silence. you take that as answer enough.

"...regardless," you begin again with a sigh, "can't i just get myself out of here? i still have the ring of light." one hand snakes out of solomons hold to reach into your pant pocket, producing the small heirloom item. it is twirled between your fingers for a moment. "this has got to be helpful in some way, right?" your hand extends to hold the ring infront of solomons face. he ponders this for a while, seemingly deep in thought. his head quirks to the side, brow furrowed. "if you remember, you were given this ring to better control and contain your power." his fingers reach up, plucking the ring from you to examine it for damage. "as we are in the long gone past now, your power...well, lets just say it is a lot weaker. your pacts don't exist here, at least not for hundreds of years." these words are what finally knock the harsh truth of it all into you. this isn't just the past, it is someone elses past. you do not exist, not even the concept of you. you are a mere speck of dust floating by in the wind.

you have never felt so small. so insignificant and worth absolutely nothing. your mind begins to buzz and jump from thought to thought of how your beloved demons don't care for you. you're nothing but an afterthought for them to send solomon after when you get too out of control.

"no," you speak outloud to yourself, shaking the thoughts away physically. a painful chill runs up your neck. "explain the power thing to me."

without missing a beat, solomon gives you a slow and thorough explanation of your power. reminding you of how it was in your actual time, and explaining why it is lesser here. there is obviously still a very fine line connecting you to them, shown earlier when you were able to command all seven brothers with one word. thinking back on it, a grimace crosses your face as you realize it could've been avoided had you only added the name 'satan' in front.

"so...do i understand correctly that i have to reforge- is that even the right word? since this is the past-" you stop yourself with a sigh, head dropping. "i have to reforge all of my pacts to even have a sliver of a chance at getting home?" his face is mostly blank as you scan it, trying to get a read on how he really feels about all of this. then, he nods and his lips part to speak.

"great." your own voice cuts him off. before solomon has a chance to react, you're crying. there is a strange empty look on your face, yet tears run harsh trails down your cheeks.

"hey, hey- i'm sorry," solomon slides the ring back into your pocket, snaking his hands up your arms to rub soft circles on the exposed skin. "i'm so sorry." pulling you closer, one hand rubs soothingly at your hair whilst the other keeps you firm against his chest. it scares solomon how emotionless you look, how dull your usually sparkling eyes seem. especially with the added contrast of tears and reddened skin.

there was of course a lot of talk before he was sent here about how you might react to all of this. lucifer was beside himself imagining how vulnerable you would be without their care. mammon felt like his world was ending thinking about you being alone, and unable to call him for help. there was simply no protecting you with this. leviathan and asmodeus had actually shared similar mindsets, just hoping you wouldn't be so frightened or worse- hurt, by their past selves. beelzebub for once in his entire existence wasn't hungry. his stomach hurt too bad thinking about you never returning. and the youngest, belphegor, hadn't expressed concerns at least outwardly. he waited until the moment him and solomon were alone, all but threatening the sorcerer to bring you back unharmed. promising a war against humanity that could rival the great celestial one if anything irreversible happened to you.

solomon had just not expected the strong and brave human he grew so fond of to cry.

still he holds you, even long after you calm down. your face is against his chest, one of his hands soothing your hair as the other holds you around your waist tightly. "i' want to go home." your voice is barely a whisper, muffled against his cape. he hears it anyways, hushing you softly. "i know, (your name). but," he unravels from around you, the loss of warmth causing a sadness in you as he tilts your chin up to meet his eyes. "i'm in this, too. and i wouldn't have come unprepared."

"i don't know how i can face them everyday and not falter. i mean, they just fell." he frowns lightly as you talk, thumb absentmindedly rubbing against your chin. "you will falter, i can't lie and say you will be fine. but as i said, i'm right here with you. okay?"

his words should be comforting, yet they rather make you more angry and emotional. solomon shouldn't have been dragged into this, given the role of saving you. there had to have been other things to do before it got to this point. but nevertheless, he is here now and it has already happened. you tell yourself that you should be thankful even a single person cared enough to break time just for the idea of your safety. with a small forced smile, you nod at him. "thank you for following me, solomon. if anyone can get out of this shit, its you." it doesn't go unnoticed the way his own smile falters for a moment.

next piece, 1-17 through 1-18

<3 back to masterlist

[kay-then-i-guess]

This redesign page of my Roleshuffle AU Techno has been sitting in my drafts for a while, so let's talk my Techno design! I already have a post discussing why I made him based off an overworld pig, so check that out first if you haven't seen it. I can't really summarize it.

Something I'm doing to show "the voices" getting louder without having to use text is making his pupils get bigger, and potentially have little red glints. I know normally the more insane a character gets, the smaller their pupils gets, but I wanted him to appear a little more animalistic. While the small pupils give a very manic, crazed look, I wanted Techno to look completely focused--almost too focused. As aforementioned, animalistic. I probably won't get to the point of what actual pig eyes look like (fully black with the whites in the back), but I do want to get a similar idea across. This choice also makes him look less aware of any dialogue going on, which I is something I've been trying to do with "the voices". No thoughts, only Blood For the Blood God.

Also! I swear during a Techno stream he had a skin with a blue sweater. Maybe I dreamed it, because I couldn't find it anywhere, but I distinctly remember his chat teasing him for it, with him responding "It's a sweater!" But I digress. Perhaps I just imagined that.

Below is the original design I had for him, and was one of the first design sheets I did (if not the first ever; I don't particularly remember). I was originally not leaning into such a cartoon-y style, but I really got into that style as I started actually making the comic. (His mildly realistic teeth in that top left image haunts me.) In other notes, I think either because of the way I did his legs originally or the way I did his head originally (both were a bit elongated), he didn't look short. Part of that is because if you measure out his full-body shot, every portion of him is roughly the same length. I.E. his head is the same length as his torso, and his torso is the same length as the legs. If you take any character design course, one of the things they'll probably note is that for unique character designs, it's a good idea to mess around with proportions (both length and width). It's tough to figure out, but once you have that idea in, you can make your characters look more unique. For instance, while Techno's longest bit is his torso, in width, he has smaller legs and a bit smaller head. On the other hand, Ranboo's longest bit is his legs, and in width, the widest part is his head (if you count his little floppy-ear-thingamajigs). I really struggled implementing this tip for a while, but woooo, once I did, my designs got a lot better. I still could stand to put it in more, to be honest haha.

Also, personal note: I didn't mean to go on such a long break, but finals have been rough (3 essays, all at least seven pages...yikes). Anyways, I'm going to have a lot to catch up on, but I AM NOT DEAD. The comic will go on! It just might take a bit, and I thank all of you for your patience! :) (Also, I'm still running character asks if you're interested!)

[calusnt]

༄𖠳 Wulf comic update woooo༄༄

Here is Wulf lovingly gazing at Stumbler (pre-wolf attack), who has just tumbled over and ate shit. ༄༄༄༄༄༄༄༄༄ 𖠳 ༄༄༄ ┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊ ┊ ┊⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊ ⋆˚          ✧. ┊          ⋆ ★ I'm re-doing the first few parts of the comic because for some reason, I didn't draft them properly! Yippee!!! The few colored screenshots of the comic you've seen will now be redacted, and will not end up in the final product ;( This is for the best though. The parts I just rushed into were clunky and vaguely out of character for how I wanted to portray Shipwrecked's cast. I also think I'm going to try using more limited colors maybe? Dunno about that one yet but this first chapter is still very much in an early draft stage.

[biblio-smia]

blood runs thicker than water — one.

first series!!! woooo!!! this will be an eventual ethan landry x reader but will start with scream 5 because i wanted to set up the reader as part of everything from the beginning — i hope you dont get too bored agkngjsk

masterlist | requests are open!

pairing: eventual ethan landry x reader

warnings: mentions of substance abuse/alcoholism, brief mentions of violence.

[one.] [two.]

You were eight years old when your parents give you the Talk.

They sat you down with grim looks and tense statures that made your small fingers fiddle with your shirt.

Your eyes dulled in fear and the nerves in your body could barely be contained; the feeling that you did something to cause this, to upset your parents was unshakable and your eyes watered before they even began.

Your parents exchanged a glance and then your mother's voice spoke — the quietest you'd ever heard her — and the small world you lived in began spinning out of control.

When you were twelve years old, your family picked up and moved from the suffocating city of Woodsboro to New York City. The attempt to run away failed and within months you were back.

There was no one to miss you when you left and no one to celebrate your return. The city was small but your circle was smaller, the change in you after that day when you were eight changing your friendships, too. The house and the white picket fence could not hide the innate differences between you and every other child in Woodsboro and while many tried to look past them, you could not. A piece of you died that day, innocence about the world gone with it.

When you were thirteen, your father come home — to the trailer you now lived in — drunk out of his mind.

And you spoke to him, asking him the questions he always danced around with avoidant eyes and clammy hands as he changed the topic. Maybe it was awful, but you were a fresh teenager who had to google how to take care of a drunk person at four in the morning.

It was that day you found out you were an accident and the weight of the truth never left you. It was a truth that only solidified your beliefs created over the years as you watched the love in your parents' marriage fizzle out.

Their relationship had been built on a shared, life-altering experience, broken down, and built up again on the same premise. And then, they were held together by something much bigger than that; you. But you were a mistake your parents never meant to make and were either too afraid or not afraid enough to take back. Their worries had eased over the years and they no longer lived shrouded in fear. Your existence defied the odds and your parents put their faith in the low chance of your birth meaning something; a sign to begin something new with the lives they had been graciously given.

Though, as you got older, the looks of love and adoration towards each other slowly became ones of resentment and anger. Your mother dreamed of more and your father, no matter how hard he tried, could not give it to her. But the raised voices and the arguments could not be hidden from you and wordless blame sat on your shoulders each time; you could tell by the look in their eyes they were only together because of you.

So when your parents had decided to divorce, you were relieved. Maybe they would finally search for their own happiness and the burden of preventing it would be lifted from your shoulders.

You had reached a year back in Woodsboro and your mother was desperate to see you. Thus began the arrangements for you to fly out to New York each summer — which worked until the summer you were fifteen, when your mother became so busy she rarely saw you. Your trips became shorter and shorter until you did not see your mother at all and spent your days travelling into the city.

High school began with stares and whispers beginning the first day. People talked and rumors floated as you entered the school that produced the original killers and a few of their successors. The comments grew worse as you neared the age of the killers, but none were ever made to your face. People knew who your parents were and those who didn't care learned to.

However, your progression through high school didn't come without a looming fear of danger. It was one you would never admit to your parents, who, that day, prepared you on what to do in the case of a Ghostface attack as if it were a commonplace emergency like fires or break ins. You’d reassure them that the attacks were over; yet you engraved their advice in your memory, the hint of paranoia taking over.

Time passed by and with the changing of the seasons came the start of senior year. The color of the world changed you along with it. Dull colors of dead leaves sparked a childish joy in you, bright smiles and increased energy making your dad suspicious and teasing. Something had changed, not caused by any particular event. The wilting of old leaves promised a fresh start for you and your father; you were sure of it.

Perhaps the last year of high school made you care-free, encouraging you to step out of your shell and make your life worth living for once. Maybe you'd finally realized that being alive was a gift, the jar of your aunt's ashes and the scars littering your father's body a constant reminder.

There was a skip in your step on the way to school and an aura surrounding you, warm and inviting even to strangers.

And then, the light went out.

Your father had his issues and his way of dealing with them. You would never understand the former, so you never questioned the latter — but September was always a hard month. Your father had his episodes but he always pulled himself together for you. But now, alcohol was used as a crutch and any optimism you had for your future disappeared as the bottles of liquor drained. The nights he'd come home drunk became more and more often, leaving you to take care of him each time. And though he had good days and bad ones, he never hurt you. He never raised his voice or got angry.

You found him one night, coffee table flipped over in the small space the two of you shared, laying in a puddle of his own vomit. He was sobbing so hard he'd woken you up.  He was muttering something over and over, choked out so roughly you could barely understand him.

"I'm sorry."

His tone haunted you, bringing goosebumps to the surface of your skin and tears to your eyes. Yet you cleaned the mess your father sat in and guided him to bed as he reached unconsciousness, pressing a shaky kiss to his forehead. The two of you never spoke of the incident and you weren't sure if he didn't remember or if he didn't want to remember.

But that night pulled you out of your daydreams; you had no choice but to grow up from any childish fantasies you once thought you could live in.

「 … 」

The Woodsboro High halls were filled with hushed whispers and disapproving looks from teachers that made your skin crawl. The tension in the air made your heart beat a little quicker, waiting for the right words to float by you.

The moment came in your psychology class when an empty desk and lack of response during attendance made the room mutter, half in excitement and half in pity.

"Didn't you hear? Tara's in the hospital. She got stabbed, like, a million times."

You froze. Your stomach churned unfavorably at the poorly whispered words and an alarm in your head went off. There was no confirmation, but there was speculation; Woodsboro seemed to be due for another Ghostface attack. But it didn't make sense. All the previous Ghostface killers were mainly tied through blood relations and as far as you knew, all family members of the previous killers were dead. But the fans... they would always have fans.

You didn't know Tara personally but you knew her circle of friends because it was impossible not to. As you left school with the announcement that classes would be canceled trailing behind you, you couldn't help but stop and stare at the table where Tara's friends sat. If it was Ghostface again, it had to be one of them.

You came home that day expecting information from your dad. If your suspicions were correct, he had to let you know. Despite his retirement, he had been Sheriff. He had been attacked by Ghostface. Four times. If anyone in this town knew the truth, it should've been him.

An empty fridge save for condiments greeted you, forcing you to eat instant noodles for the fifth time that week. You headed straight to the couch with a groan. Silence engulfed you for hours, leaving you alone with nothing but your thoughts. They were suffocating.

The mere idea of the return of Ghostface left you haunted, sitting there with an empty ache in your chest. Your mind traced every possibility of what could follow, a shudder passing through your body as your imagination wandered. Your hands rubbed shakily against your thighs as you tried to grasp back onto reality, pulling yourself out of outcomes you couldn't predict. But with a nod of your head came a silent decision; you would stay by your father's side, no matter what.

The sky behind you darkened, orange hues turning black through the small gap between the blinds. Sleep helped you pass the time. Next to you, your phone buzzed in an attempt to notify you of an incoming call, vibrating until it fell off the edge of the coffee table. It wasn’t enough to wake you; you remained uninterrupted until your eyes blinked open at the sound of the door of your home squeaking open. Your father was home, you realized groggily. Too late — your father had gotten a call and left once more, before you could break the haze of your sleep.

It wasn't until later, once you had rubbed the tiredness out of your eyes, that you realized what the voice over the phone told him.

The stabbing of Tara Carpenter did not strike you as a coincidence. Your dad knew it wasn't a coincidence; but he didn't want to admit it, so he got a drink and pretended it wasn't happening.

You waited on the couch as the hours of the night crept on, the hint of a headache threatening to take over if you didn't get proper rest soon. You slipped in and out of unconsciousness with your body in an uncomfortable position. With a developing stiffness in your neck and a far-fetched dream contained in your mind, Dewey Riley entered your home with a grim look and a developing bruise decorating his face.

[mostboringcrossover]

More information on my baby Asher because he's my pride and joy.

(Also it's my birthday so woooo!)

INFO BELOW CUT

Asher is clumsy and tends to forget things a lot. As such he most commonly is found wandering around the castle mumbling things to himself so he can try to commit them to memory.

His parents were rumored to be dealing with dark magic and the dark arts, getting them sent to Azkaban. Ashers family rejected him because they believed he was tainted (no one knew the reason hsi hair was blue). He ended up living in an orphanage until he recieved his letter.

His scar is from an accident he had in the orphanage. Asher calls it an accident, but it was actually due to some kids shoving Jim around and bullying him. He was shaved into a pile of sticks outside face first, scratching and gashing his face. The branches just barely missed his eye.

Asher can't stand the dark. He always has to have some kind of light, weather a lantern or his wand on with lumos cast, he has to have lights to sleep.

Asher is a part of the LGBTQ community! He is gay however, he struggles with coming to terms with it and isn't very fond of his feelings towards a certain redhead.

It took Asher atleast 4 tries to finish crossed wands. He hates fighting and dueling, so naturally he completely sucks at it.

He became friends with Sebastian to try and prove to himself that dark magic wasn't bad, and in turn maybe he wasn't bad. After the events of Shadow of the Relic, he finally sees that dark magic cannot be changed. It will always be bad, and so will it's user.

He is still iffy with Ominis regarding friendship because of how long he went along with Sebastian for, however he is still always welcome in the undercroft whenever he needs it.

Referring to a previous one, Asher believes that he is a product of something horrible. Of course he's been told that is ancient magic is the reason for his blue hair and unnatural eyes, but the claims that he is a product of something horrible has been engraved deep inside his soul.

His patronus is a Beaver.

[kayla-crazy-stuffs]

These aren't the best moments in his life (Surfer Dream pt 5)

I'm finally posting a fic again woooo :D

hero you go with a new part for surfer Dream au :)

Enjoy :]

TW: Safe/soft vore, unaware prey, fearplay, injury (mentioned)

It's been about 6 months since Dream went into a coma. Karl visited him three or four times a week, since he missed him very much and was very worried about him.

One of those days, Dream finally woke up from his coma, which pleased Karl and clearly Sapnap and Quackity. They were really relieved that he was able to wake up from the coma.

Due to health and safety reasons, Dream had to be hospitalized for another two months, which was fine with Karl as he was quite concerned about his roommate's condition.

During that time, Dream slowly began to be able to speak normally. It took him quite a while to do so, but with the effort, he was able to speak again without stuttering. In the end, he was allowed to leave the hospital, back home with Karl.

//

Dream walked out the door, heading towards the port. “Dream! Where are you going??" Karl asked as he quickly approached his friend. Dream let out a long breath, looking at him with a pout.

"Come on... I'm just going for a walk, you don't have to worry so much about me..." "Dream... You've been in a coma for six months, almost seven, plus two months of rehabilitation" He replied seriously while crossing his arms.

Dream let out another slightly annoyed sigh. “Karl, come on, I can't be locked up all the time. I'm just going to take a walk for three hours and come back, okay? Nothing bad will happen to me…”

Karl looked at Dream for a few seconds before sighing in defeat. "Okay, but if you haven't come back in three hours, I'm going to ask Sapnap and Quackity to find you and you won't come out for two weeks."

Dream thought about it for a moment before nodding. “Okay, deal. See you in three hours." he said before turning around and continuing on his way towards the port. Once there, he got on a small boat and headed out for a few miles into the ocean.

//

An hour passed and it seemed to Dream that he had gone far enough, so he stopped the boat. Not even five minutes passed when the sea began to move a little more violently.

‘Okay, maybe I should have listened to Karl…’ Dream stumbled backwards as a wave crashed into the boat. The sea was getting even more dangerous by seconds.

Much larger waves began to appear and crash against the boat. Dream tried to hold on to something but then, an unbelievably huge wave hit the boat, causing him to slip, hit his head on the ground and knock him unconscious.

Although before falling unconscious he could kinda see something light blue and gold, his sight eventually turning completely black.

//

Punz had only thought of taking a long swim by the sea, what he did not expect was to find a small boat being hit and pushed by the waves. With a sigh he approached the surface, sticking his head above the waves, watching the boat for a moment.

He narrowed his eyes, leaning a little closer, wanting to take a closer look. His eyes widened as they took in the only person in it.

The person was unconscious, which worried him a lot since the boy could die because of the state the sea was in.

Letting out another sigh, he picked up the boy in his hands and slowly introduced him into his mouth,swallowing him slowly and gently, since he didn't want to hurt him, or at least, less than what would have happened to him before he arrived.

Once he was sure the human was in his storage, he dove back in, swimming for the nearest shoreline.

Before he could move too far, a blue shark hybrid and a killer whale hybrid stopped him off, the shark grabbing him by the neck. “Where the fuck is Dream?! What the hell have you done to him!?” he said in a furious voice, baring his sharp teeth at her in a snarl.

Punz got nervous, who was Dream? Was he talking about the human he had found a few seconds ago? The shark grew impatient at his lack of response, tightening its grip on his neck a little more.

"Well?! Are you going to answer me!?" The other mer stepped in, trying to calm him down. "Sapnap please, calm down, you won't get anything like this..." Sapnap looked at his partner for a moment before letting out a sigh and letting go of Punz's neck. "Okay... Now, talk"

Punz looked at him a little bit nervous. “Uh.. That Dream.., has dirty blond hair and is wearing a green shirt...? Uh, if it's him... I found him unconscious so I decided to store him to keep him safe...”

Sapnap sighed at that. "Okay... I can tell you're not lying, but I don't trust you, understand?" he told him in a serious tone.

Punz nodded, flinching as a hand landed on his shoulder. “Calm down kid, he's just a little upset, it's alright, okay? Spend some time with us and you will see that he gets used to you.” Punz nodded again. "And what about you..?"

The orca gave a small giggle. "Me? don't worry about me, I do trust you, usually whale shark hybrids are really honest, besides you looked too nervous to lie, I think you're not good at that." "I guess..." The orca pulled him a little closer while drawing Sapnap's attention.

“Why don't we talk a bit on the way and get to know each other a bit?” He commented looking at both of them. Sapnap just shrugged, not really caring for the idea.

"Okay then, my name is Quackity and this is my fiancé, Sapnap." He says pointing at the shark. “My name is Punz…”

[coruscantguard]

FoxQuin Week, Day 2

Written for the alternate prompt, Fox kills Palpatine. Woooo!!!! The Sith is dead!!!

@foxquinweek

(Ao3 Link)

"In my defense," Fox says slowly, carefully choosing his words. "I didn't mean to."

It's not a very good defense. In fact, it's a pretty shit one. It's the kind of defense that the Prosecutor's office usually hopes a defendant will blurt out when they're taken in for questioning, because it makes their job easy. (At least, that's the impression he's gotten from working with the Prosecutor's office in the past.)

[[MORE]]

General Quinlan Vos looks at him, looks at the remains of the body on the floor. Looks back up at him. "Sorry, can we back up to the part where he exploded and the Force instantly got ten times lighter? Because I'm stuck on the part where he exploded and the Force suddenly got ten times lighter."

"I wouldn't know that, sir, I can't feel the Force," Fox replies, sneaking another glance at the remains of the Chancellor's dead body. Yeah, that was the Chancellor once, that's for sure. "I'll have to defer to your judgment regarding that."

General Vos laughs at that. It sounds... a little high-pitched, a little strangled. "You just saved the galaxy from a Sith Lord, Commander, you don't need to call me sir."

Fox has no idea how those two things are meant to be linked. Or what a "Sith Lord" is. Weren't they evil Jedi, or something? Was the Chancellor a rogue Jedi?

... Yeah, he's not about to ask General Vos that one. Fox hasn't gotten as far as he is by asking questions. Although, to be fair, where he "is" is the Chancellor's office after having killed the Chancellor, so maybe he should be asking more questions.

"Kriff, this is gonna give Mace such a bad headache," General Vos says after a moment of silence from Fox. He laughs again. It still sounds a little strangled. "Right, well, you'll probably need to come to the Temple, Commander, so we can make sure you're safe as we sort out the red tape surrounding this. It's going to be a little complicated, as historically, it's only the Jedi who are legally allowed to take action regarding Sith Lords, but I'm sure Madam Nu will figure something out. Maybe there's a Good Samaritan law we can use, since I was here, and you were technically protecting me."

What. "What?"

General Vos looks up to meet his eyes. He's starting to look a little concerned. "Legal protection, Fox. Are you okay? Were you injured in the explosion?"

"I'm fine, sir," Fox starts, then pauses, tries to figure out how to delicately ask this. Fails. Okay, whatever, he's already screwed, kark it. "I just killed the Chancellor of the Republic. Why are you trying to protect me from the consequences?"

"I mean, the Chancellor of the Reoublic was a Sith Lord. You just killed a Sith Lord." General Vos paused, presumably to let that sink in. Unfortunately, Fox has no idea what that means, so the only thing that sinks in is the realization that he's missing something big. "That's justifiable, you know, you shouldn't be punished for it."

Fox blinks. Stares. Tries to formulate a response. Fails. The Jedi is obviously going to be stubborn about this. Maybe it's just best to go along with things, for now.

Kriffing Jedi.

"Whatever you think is best, sir," he finally says. He's certainly not going to complain about not getting decommissioned, no matter how weird the reasoning behind it. "I'll follow your lead."

(And… maybe that thought is a bit fonder than it should be. Maybe. But he’ll never admit it out loud.)

[dianaladrislovebot]

my book annotations : book 2 edition - hunger

hey there yall it’s time for bookmarks part 2 i forgot to do this before my apologies,,, these still aren’t funny but that’s entirely because the entire books plot happens within the last 100 pages i promise it will get better at some point

‘diana was pitiless. “what, are you stupid now as well as crazy?”’ - get him baby girl (hunger, page 13)

‘“anyway, i might look good with just two hairs,” sam said. he looked at his reflection in the glass front of the microwave.’ - why is bro checking himself out (hunger, page 25)

‘“you’d like that, wouldn’t you diana? me fighting caine. sorry to disappoint you. i am 100% loyal to caine. we’re like brothers, the two of us. not like him and Sam, more like blood brothers,” he winked at her.’ - don’t lie drake you’re in love with him (hunger, page 41)

‘he didn’t look strong. he looked like a dweeb.’ - A DWEEB? LMFAO (hunger, page 55)

‘in the three months caine had spent hallucinating and yelling crazy stuff-‘ - my favourite basket case (hunger, page 79)

‘bug hadn’t just been sent to coates as a punishment; he’d been sent for his own safety.’ - god he’s a freak (hunger, page 80)

‘the boy evidently wanted the window open, but the battery was dead, so he drew a gun aimed it at the driver side window, and fired.’ - what’s wrong with him part 2 (hunger, page 90)

‘“i’m not anybody’s daddy,” sam practically snarled.’ - are you sure about that (hunger, page 104)

‘“you should be on our side, quinn. everyone knows you’re a normal,” another kid, lance, said. “well… kind of normal. you’re still quinn.”’ - homophobia ??? (hunger, page 216)

‘caine felt a flash of anger. josh was a kid, no more than ten. what was sam thinking, putting kids in this position?’ - is. is he serious. (hunger, page 251)

‘quinn was a little surprised by alberts matter of fact tone. he’d half expected a gollum-like, ‘my precioussss’, or something.’ - quinn what- (hunger, page 272)

‘“how’s it look?” caine asked. he laid his hand on jacks shoulder, a friendly gesture meant to reassure jack. for the first time in his life it occurred to jack that he wanted to spin around and punch caine. punch him hard.’ - DO IT JACK (hunger, page 285)

‘“let me explain something to you people. i’m not your parents. i’m a fifteen-year-old kid. i’m a kid, just like all of you. i don’t happen to have any magic ability to make food suddenly appear. it can’t just snap my fingers and make all your problems go away. i’m just a kid.”’ - and life is a nightmare (hunger, page 377)

‘“so we don’t drop it.” drake said finally.’ - he’s so impossibly stupid (hunger, page 447)

‘he smiled, patted drakes gaunt cheek-‘ - they’re so gay ????? (hunger, page 448)

‘“does he have a nickname?” diana went on remorselessly. “i mean, ‘gaiaphage’ is so long. can we call him phage? or maybe just g?” from outside came the sound of metal ripping, glass shattering. jack converting an suv into a convertible. “the ‘g’ monster.” diana said.’ - love of my life she’s so cute <3 (hunger, page 526)

‘his mouth was drawn into a grimace. it was the only time diana had ever looked at him and found him ugly.’ - DID SHE JUST CALL HIM UGLY (hunger, page 539)

‘brianna breathed hard. stared. there was a rushing waterfall in her ears. a roar. then a blur as the world around her screamed past and she hit caine with all the speed and fury at her command. caine went sprawling.’ - WOOOO BREEZE FOR THE WIN (hunger, page 558)

‘“you can’t buy me with food,” duck huffed. “i… i want a swimming pool too.”’ - there’s not going to be a swimming pool you stupid slut (hunger, page 559)

[emcandon]

the ballad of fancy uncle chucklefuck, pt. 9

anyone remember how fancy uncle chucklefuck started his cleric career by threatening god

well he DID ask the Tiefling Lockadin Dad (henceforth known as....Lockadad??) for advice on How to Engage One's God Peaceably

bc he had earlier walked in on Lockadad gently lecturing his corpse-god (who had broken into his house to modify his old armor; normal god behavior) on wearing something warmer (normal lockadin behavior!)

then instantly bailed bc the last time uncle chucklefuck saw that corpse-god, it was trying to strangle him ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

anyway Lockadad was like "yeah maybe next time DON'T threaten them?? idk man i kind of try to talk to my god like she's a...toddler? they think differently than we do."

"cool," said uncle chucklefuck, who immediately went to sit down with his god and threaten them again

(to the tune of "hey i didn't think you could change, but apparently you can -- which is kind of awful! bc if you could've been different THEN why are you only changing NOW? anyway you'd better stay different, or -- idk, but i'm pretty sure you need me, so!!")

the good news is that he realized he was indeed threatening it again and tried to backpedal

the bad news is he's started to figure out just what's different abt his god vs. the last he knew of it, and it's that the god seems to have...absorbed...? eaten...? some part of his dead lover's soul. ........bad, actually.

the better news is that fancy uncle chucklefuck is finding some comfort and security in 1) being the project manager for Vampire Murder Shenanigans, 2) teaching the feral hagdaughter how to pick locks.

also finally figuring out how to give ppl advice and MAYBE convince them to listen to him? (hey actually maybe DON'T trust the lesser of two evils -- they very much can and will dick you over anyway!!)

anyway next month we're going traveling with that theater troupe and nothing will be spooky about that probably woooo