#wow i wrote more than i intended to

[journey-to-the-attic]

Hey! I just read the hybrid AU hc's you wrote and I came up whit something...

What if IK does end up being taken by the angels to the Celestial realm? I honestly think at first she'd try to fit in but ultimately get sad that she's away from the devildom and the brothers. I keep thinking that she'd do anything to get kicked out and fall from the Celestial Realm just so she can be whit the brothers.

Could you maybe write some hcs of the brothers not only seeing her fall down from the sky through a window but also reacting to he being half demon now? (Only if you want!!)

I honestly think the brothers would get Vietnam flashbacks

actually, i reckon ik would skip the fitting in steps and immediately go for angelic delinquency - there's no way the celestial realm got her into custody without a fight, and in the first place she does NOT want to be here - she wants to be at home with her demon family

presumably the celestial realm got what they wanted by putting simeon and/or luke on the spot, either by threatening one of the others' safety or just by making a bunch of empty promises and assuring them that this is all ultimately better for ik's wellbeing... though luke'd more likely be convinced by the latter than simeon

the brothers are probably furious about all this, but diavolo can't let them charge up there to bring ik home themselves because 1. the celestial realm technically does have a genuine claim to ik's care, and 2. they can't risk starting another war. lucifer, while deeply unhappy about the situation, has to agree for the sake of peace and everyone else's safety

solomon spends a lot of time trying to negotiate, since ik's still half human and has been raised human her whole life. but the celestial realm's gotten suspiciously cagey about ik's whereabouts - so he insists on seeing her every time he visits, and every time she's gotten quieter

luke doesn't quite understand it at first - the celestial realm's so beautiful, and there's so many fun things to do! eventually though, he, like simeon, becomes fully (and painfully) aware that ik's miserable up here. also, is it just him, or is the high council being really shady about 'settling her in'?

an angel-human hybrid's existence is dangerous, especially one as friendly with demons as ik, so it'd be easier for the celestial realm (both in terms of politics, and the ongoing loyalty of the angels) if she was obedient. ik's having none of it though

it starts with talking back to the seraphs, then sneaking out and causing a ruckus when they're not looking. this escalates into mild vandalism, then straight up destruction of property (throwing things through windows, etc)

at first the seraphs just take it into stride, because it'd make it harder to make ik cooperate if they punished her, but it starts getting out of hand - a lot of valuable and very old things end up destroyed, and the other angels are starting to object to having her here in the first place

exile would be a last resort, because it's the last thing the council wants in this situation. potentially, ik goes to simeon and raphael conspire to make it happen - neither are particularly willing, but it's just about the only plan they have for letting ik go home

(the seraphs did say that ik would be allowed to come down to the devildom, but won't allow it until ik behaves and promises to stay that way - which she has no intention of doing)

the demons aren't informed about this because they'd almost certainly object - though diavolo has his suspicions, and he warns simeon against it, having seen first-hand what the fall did to the brothers. unfortunately, simeon chooses to listen to ik instead

maybe simeon sets fire to the grand palace, or raphael attacks an angel - in either situation, ik admits to the crime, and somehow they make it happen! down she goes!

barbatos sees something falling down and his heart drops like a fucking ROCK. he knew diavolo was suspicious, but he never thought ik would actually go through with it... but he supposes that kid's always been too reckless for her own good

he does attempt to somehow issue a warning to prevent the brothers from seeing this, but unfortunately they're all at the castle already (to discuss ik's situation, actually, which is ironic) and realise what's going on soon afterwards. asmo just starts screaming and he can't stop for a while

the fall is almost definitely too aggressive for this - it's like a meteor falling - but the winged demons still fly up to try and soften the impact, even though they all get pretty singed in the process. ik's not too badly wounded, though the same can't be said of her mental state

the brothers aren't sure whether to be happy she's at least back or to be SO pissed this even happened in the first place. out of all of them, lucifer probably has the worst reaction to it; he's feeling a molotov cocktail of grief and fury, and he's only just barely keeping it under control

belphie is so fucking angry that he thinks he finally knows what it must be like to be avatar of wrath, but then he sees satan's face and realises that even now, he has no idea how deep that rage runs. they both agree that their energy is much better expended on helping ik recover, though, so there's not much they can do about it

i guess in some ways, the brothers are happier with ik being half-demon than half-angel, and they're definitely glad that she's home, but... man. why do all the worst things keep happening to this poor kid?

[dongiovannitriumphant]

fyi if you RB someone's post and add multiple paragraphs as a response and then block the person you RB it from they will not be able to read your whole response

[loganlermanstanaccount]

Show me where it hurts (part 1)

Miguel O'Hara x spiderwoman!reader

(AO3 Mirror), Part 2, Main Masterlist

summary: Miguel's acting weird, and you make it your mission to find out exactly what's going on.

warnings: no warnings for this chap, pg-13, swearing and canon level violence. smut next chapter xoxo

a/n: this is a combination of 2 asks and this post I saw on here a while ago: flirty/ snarky fem reader, Miguel during a ""rut"" (I don't know if it counts as a rut really, but its to do with his animal instincts/DNA) and Lyla playing matchmaker.  I had so much fun writing this, enjoy :D

(i wrote this pre seeing spiderverse 2, so i think characterisation is a little off, esp for Lyla, apologies! I'll fix it in my upcoming fics)

edit: I use the term "bichita" which I have been informed can be read not as I intended in Spanish. I'm not a native speaker so I want to apologise in advance. I'm doing more research for my future fics and leaving this up as a testament to my stupidity. Spanish speakers, feel free to correct me / clown my ass in the comments. My bad guys :(

wc: 3.6k

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You think Miguel is avoiding you. 

One of your closest friends, giving you the runaround for months, it seems. Calling the two of you close friends is a little extreme, sure. You've only known O'Hara for two years, and been in love with him for slightly less than that, thank you very much. And yes, he refuses to call you by anything but your last name. And the last time you saw him he wouldn't so much as look at you, but that was besides the point. 

"..the point," You tell Lyla, in between exasperated bites of cereal, "... is that aren't elite forces of spiderpeople supposed to, you know, have some spiderpeople kick ass once in a while? And where exactly is our fearless leader? I haven't seen O'Hara's scary ass in weeks, and I'm starting to miss it."

She gives you a look, one that says this isn't what I'm programmed for , but you pointedly ignore it. 

"His ass, by the way." You clarify. "I very specifically miss his ass. Remind me to get his routine. I know girls that would kill for…"

"How the fuck did you get in here?" A voice croaks. You turn behind you and see Miguel, not in his suit, but wrapped up in a blanket like he's just woken up. And he looks rough, like a train ran him over on the way here: puffy eyes, splotchy skin, tension kneaded into his brow. 

"Wow." Your spoon drops into the milk. "You look like shit.." 

He furrows his brow even deeper, if that was possible. " Mierda. You shouldn't be here." 

"This isn't quite the welcome party I was expecting, man. I'm the only one to actually turn up to one of your meetings, and this is what I get?" 

"I thought I told Lyla to cancel," He mutters, pinching the bridge of his nose. 

"Cancel? Since when do you miss a chance to talk about rules and protocol?" 

"I don't have time for this-" 

"-and I'm not leaving without a proper explanation. Is everything okay?" 

"It's actually way worse now you're here." He deadpans. 

"Haha ." You turn to Lyla. "You drop everything to travel halfway across the multiverse and this asshole won't even say thanks." 

"Thanks, but this asshole needs you to leave. Now." 

This is the most he's spoken to you in forever, and you hate that you like it. You just want his attention, however it comes. If that means dragging this out so maybe he acknowledges you, touches you, looks at you - then so be it. Squinting, you get closer to him. You scan his face for anything to latch onto. You put a hand on his shoulder, still searching. 

"You sure you're alright? You know you can tell me if-" 

"Si, si." He grits his teeth, looking away. "M'just fine. I'll explain…. later."

"...because I'm your right hand man?" You grin, poking at his brow. "Stop frowning so much Miguel, you're gonna ruin that pretty face of yours."

He flushes, nervous, and swats you away. "-what? N-No. You're not my right hand man and I like my face just the way it is. Now, leave. "

Making your way to the door, you tap your nose teasingly. "You know where to find me!" 

When the door closes with a click, you make your way down the corridor, and stop in your tracks when you hear it. It's muffled, but with the strain of your supersenses you can make out Miguel's voice just beyond the wall. 

"I just…. don't want her to see me like this… Lyla, it's not happening… I can't tell her…." Tell her what, exactly? 

Resolutely, you make up your mind. Miguel O'Hara's got a secret. And before you leave for home, you're gonna do everything in your God given power to wear him down and find out. 

~~~

Despite his insistence otherwise, you liked to think of yourself as O'Hara's right hand man - and most of the other spiderpeople thought so too. You were one of the very first he recruited, after crash landing onto your earth like a spiderman-shaped meteor; the two of you were inseparable. Miguel was stubborn and headstrong and thought he was right all the time. Infuriatingly, he was, but that didn't stop you from telling him to get his head out of his own ass when his ego grew too big. 

He was different around you, you think. Softer, sometimes. Harsher, other times. He told you what you needed to hear whether you wanted to or not; the result of mutual respect and agonising persistence. Slowly, you had chipped away his hard exterior; the one he built because he thought he needed to push people away. In that regard, you were similar, but this need manifested in you like a weed - an awful, awful compulsion to joke and laugh at your own expense, to keep others at an arm's length. You had spent your whole life picking and pruning away at yourself, looking for perfection. Even after all this, multiverse-hopping and fighting alongside people who were the closest things you had to friends , it wasn't enough. There was still something missing. 

Ironically, Miguel had told you something similar the one of the last times you had spoken. You had fucked up a mission, well and truly. In the aftermath, all you can remember is coming back to base, limping on Jessica's arm. 

"She's hurt!" She cries out. Lyla materialises and leads you both to the med bay, inspecting any visible wounds. There's a deep laceration, sticky with blood, at the base of your stomach. You shift onto the bed and hiss with pain. 

Miguel is quick to follow, face twisted with confusion, pain, sadness. Even in your haze, you feel the tension radiating off of him as he drags over a cart of supplies. 

"What happened?" He strains. 

"I don't even… it happened so fast. We got ambushed, and all of a sudden I'm on the ground. I wasn't thinking straight and… " She sobs. "...she jumped in front of me. God, she saved my life-" 

"-wasn't your fault, Jess." You croak, trying to sit up. "And I'm fine. Just need to walk it off…"

"Sit, bichita," His nickname makes you frown, despite yourself, and you settle back down. "Lyla, what's the damage?"

Your vision goes spotty, and Lyla's voice barely registers. All you can feel is searing pain in your side, but Miguel is warm, oh so warm. You clutch his arms, and force him to look you in the eye. 

"M'ready, Miguel." He nods weakly, but you don't think he understands. "I mean it . I can lead, j-just need another chance and I won't let you down… Jess, tell him that I can-" 

"It's okay. I believe you. You just need to relax for me, hmm?" He clutches at your hand, tight, and it's like you're the only two people in the world. "You did good. I promise."

Faintly, you nod. You feel a pinch at your arm, and Jessica's there, with an empty vial of something in her hands. The pain washes over you, and you fight to keep your eyes open. In those last few moments of light, you swear you feel a shaky kiss pressed to your temple. 

"Sleep, mi bichito amoroso. Sleep."

When you come to, you're still in the medbay, moonlight streaming through. Well, artificial moonlight. Time worked a little differently here, something Miguel explained to you a while ago - God knows what about dilation and quantum interference. It makes you smile now, remembering his frustration as he tried to explain to no avail. You were the only spiderman this side of the multiverse without a degree in quantum tech, you had said with a lopsided smile. 

You move to sit, and pain shoots up your side. Groaning, you push through it, determined to get out of this bed and find the others. As if on cue, Miguel walks in, almost leaping towards you. 

"You should… mierda ! You should be resting in bed."

You pout as you stumble into his chest. He hooks an arm around you and leads you back. You clamber in, sighing. "M'fine, O'Hara."

"Your guts were halfway out of your body less than 24 hours ago. So stay put, or you might give me another heart attack."

You scoff, incredulous. "You were worried?" 

He shrugs. " 'Course I was."

"Why? You know I'm practically indestructible." You give him a shit eating grin, and poke the frown appearing at his brow. He doesn't bat you away like he usually does. 

"Famous last words, bichita." He sighs. You can't speak a lick of Spanish, but you know he only calls you that word when you've frustrated him to his limit. So you take it as a win, for now. 

He drops into the chair next to you. "How are you feeling?" 

"Just peachy, dollface." You wink, and he doesn't so much as groan. 

"I'm being serious. You went through something pretty traumatic…"

"You want me to tell you it hurts, so, so bad, daddy? " You pout and flutter your eyelashes mockingly. Miguel shifts in his seat, unable to make eye contact. 

"That's not what I meant."

"What did you mean, O'Hara? I feel fine. And in a couple of days, I'll feel even better, and I'll be up and about. I can finish what we started and-" 

"-no, absolutely not." He frowns. "A couple of days? I'm sending you home-" 

"You can't do that! On whose fucking authority?"

"On the authority of you almost fucking died ! Keeping you safe is our priority right now-" 

"God, is this my punishment? This is a low blow, O'Hara. You know how hard I've worked for this: months of surveillance and intel a-and I did everything by the book, just like you told me to." You croak. "I fucked up . I know that, and I feel terrible. Give me a chance to make things right; that's all I'm asking. I can do it, I know it. "

He looks at you for a moment, something heavy in his expression. His face contorted, he strips you down to the bone with just his gaze. His voice is so quiet, you almost miss it. 

"....you're still trying to prove yourself, aren't you?"

Honestly, it catches you off guard. You don't even know what the fuck that means, let alone why he said it.

"I don't… I d-don't…?" 

"They all love you. Respect you. More than me I think, sometimes." He chuckles at that. "You're good at what you do. The best . What else are you trying to prove? What else do you need ?" 

Your throat goes dry. You couldn't speak if you wanted to. 

"I'm not punishing you. You made a mistake, but you don't need to be crucified for it. I just want to keep you safe. I can't… we can't lose you."

"Miguel-"

"-this isn't a discussion. And I'm not trying to argue, although I know how much you like to argue." He inches closer, cupping your face gently. You try to move away, blinking back tears. But his hands are steady and he strokes your jaw with so much tenderness you think you hear your heart break. He's pretty, so pretty. You don't deserve him, you think. "There'll be time to fight, bichita. Rest. That's your mission right now."

"C-can't sleep." You breathe. "It hurts." 

Miguel pauses, head tilted like he's thinking. He taps your shoulder. "Scoot over."

You do as he says, and he slips into the bed with you. It's a tight fit, but he manages, placing you on his chest with an arm gently around your shoulders. You bury your face in his hoodie, sniffling and hoping he doesn't notice you choking back sobs. Absentmindedly, he settles into a rhythm, gentle breathing and playing with your hair, soothing you softly. He pretends he can't hear the tears. 

"M'gonna stay here until you're asleep. For as long as you need."

You nod, unable to speak for fear of breaking down. 

~~~

The days after felt like a blur. You woke up to Miguel gone, and an ache in your heart. Jess visits as much as she can, and Ben calls you a couple times, to see if you're okay. Peter B brings Mayday, and she clambers all over your bed, bringing some life into the room. Miguel doesn't visit per se - you hear whispers of him, Lyla visiting in his stead for comprehensive status updates. Once, you wake up in the night to see him on the adjacent chair, head lolling in deep sleep. He looks peaceful, calm - one of the first times you haven't seen his brow furrowed with worry. Of course, he's gone by the morning. 

The very last time you saw him, he opened the portal home. It was weird, after everything, but if Miguel felt the same you wouldn't know. Talking at a thousand miles a minute, he alternates between assuring you they'll be fine without you and situation reports from spider people all across the multiverse. Things you'd missed whilst bedbound, asking for advice before you left. He trusted your judgement and the thought warmed your heart, almost making you forget that he completely brushed past the previous nights before. 

You still remember the last thing he had said to you, which would've been weeks ago, now. 

"...and if you need anything, and I mean anything, you call me directly. Not Jess, not Ben, and certainly not Peter B. Call me, and I'll answer, I promise. You need help, you need advice, you just need someone to talk to, then-"

"-I call you. I get it, O'Hara. Will do." He opens the portal, watching as you walk towards it. He can't take his eyes off of you, even though you can't see him. At the last moment you turn, and run towards him. You almost knock him over with a hug. Burying his head in the crook of your shoulder, he hugs you back, ever careful of your injury. Separating, your smile almost knocks him over again. Weakly, he smiles back as you head through the portal, back home. 

You're left with that feeling, of his arms around your body - warm, so warm - as you putter about by the switchboard. After careful deliberation (you were really, really bored ) you'd taken to manage the Multi Modal Multiversal Switchboard - as aptly named by Miguel. Everyone else called it the Big Red Phone of course, but he had insisted on calling it by its proper name . Every. Time. 

The thought makes you chuckle as you call up Peter B. His icon flashes on the screen in front of you. With a click, he picks up the call, his face materialising holographically in front you. A little hand reaches up and tugs at his ear. 

"Ow… ouch … Dad's on the phone, honey."

"Aww! How's my favourite Parker doing?" 

"Not bad, actually! MJ just made us probably the best burger this side of New York-"

"-sorry, Peter? Me and May are trying to have a conversation." You hear her giggle in the background. Her gap toothed grin pops into frame and she babbles excitedly. "...yeah, exactly May. That's literally what I said."

"Okay, okay, that's enough." He puts the toddler down and watches her scurry away. "You're feeling better, I see."

"Yeah, back in action. Thought I'd check in."

"All good here." He squints, trying to take in your surroundings. "You're at HQ?" 

You hum.

"Could've sworn Lyla cancelled…"

"Yeah, didn't get the memo. But I think something's wrong with O'Hara."

He gives you a weird look. "Uhhh, what makes you think that?" 

"He won't even look at me. Was it something I said? Something I did?" Your eyes narrow. "...what do you know, Peter?"

"Nothing! Absolutely nothing!" He scoffs, a little too quickly, clutching his chest like you've offended him. He's stared down some of the scariest villains around, but the look you give him is truly chilling. "Just… uhhh. You didn't hear this from me." 

"Naturally…"

"We tracked 'em down, the guys that ambushed you and Jessica."

"The Sinister Six? From Earth-215?"

"Yeah, but by the time we got there, it was just Kraven and some of his goons. Miguel got there first, and…." He gulps. "He was pissed. Trashed the whole place looking for the rest of 'em. Beat Kraven half to death and we had to pull him off."

"Shit."

"Yeah, it was pretty rough. Never seen him like that before. And just generally? He'd been weirdly quiet, a little grumpy, more aggressive on missions. I don't know what's gotten into him."

"Hmmm. Thanks, Pete."

"No problem, sweetheart. And if the big guy asks… "

"...this didn't come from you, I know." Weakly, you smile. "Say hi to my favourite Parkers, for me." 

" 'Course I will. We should celebrate, if you're back officially. Mine and MJ's is always open."

"Good to know. I'll see you around."

He waves goodbye, and the hologram clicks off. Sighing, you try to piece together what you've just heard. 

Miguel: acting weird. Well, you knew that already. Aggressive was new. And Lyla? She had canceled, but not for you, for some reason. An honest mistake, perhaps. But Lyla doesn't make mistakes… 

You stew for a couple of hours, puttering about the switchboard, twiddling your thumbs. Something's wrong, and for some reason you're afraid to see him. To have him look straight through you, again, when you ask to do the same. Show me where it hurts. Tell me how to make it better.  

On the way there, you chew your lip in anticipation. In the corridor, you're outside the door to his place, hand hovering above the door. To knock, to call. In the harsh fluorescent light, you hesitate. 

"Lyla?" Nervously, you sink down onto the floor. It's hard to explain, but you don't expect her to actually come; to materialise in front of you. 

"How can I assist you?" She says with a ding. 

"Uhh… hi. Just wanted to talk." You pause, clicking your tongue. "Can you be honest with me?" 

"I can only be honest with you. It is not in my programming to lie, unless specified by my owner."

"Sure. Cool. It's about him, actually. Is Miguel okay?" 

She tilts her head, as if processing your request. "Okay is a subjective term. Is Mr O'Hara alive? Yes. Is Mr O'Hara physically well? Yes. By those terms, he is okay ."

Too vague for your own liking. "I guess I meant more… his emotional state. To the best of your knowledge… in your opinion , Lyla: is Miguel okay?" 

"...I believe Mr O'Hara is experiencing some emotional turmoil."

You frown. "Oh. Do you know why?" 

"Mr O'Hara has instructed me not to disclose that information with you."

"Fair enough. But you don't have to tell me… I could just ask questions?" 

She nods. "There is nothing in my programming that prevents me from answering some questions within certain parameters." 

"Did I do something? Not just today but… last time I was here. Did I say something to hurt or upset him? Is that why he's acting weird?"

"No." She says blankly. "And yes. I suppose it is… complicated." She gestures around that word. 

"I'm a little confused, Lyla."

She sits next to you, on the cool tile. Not that she could feel it, but it feels more intimate - like two friends talking. The extent of Lyla's consciousness, you weren't sure of. Was she alive? To you, she might as well be. Could she think, feel, emote? Maybe, maybe not. You weren't smart enough to understand the nuances of her programming. But you were human enough to see it in her - something glittering beyond the surface. 

It could be projection, but you swear her voice is softer. "He has a name for you. When he speaks about you, and to you. I have it logged in my memory database. Do you know what that is?" You shake your head. 

Lyla opens up her palm and projects videos and images - little Miguel's popping up in her palm, tinny and gruff voices ringing through the hallway. They say your name, shout your name, whisper it. Some say other things in Spanish. Curse words had always been your assumption, and he had given you no reason to think otherwise. Now, having it played back to you, you hear a tenderness in his voice you would've missed. Words and phrases that come up again and again…

"Bichita." She repeats. "Bichito del amor. Mi bichito amoroso. "

You shake your head, still confounded. "...I don't speak Spanish, Lyla." 

"Little bug. Sweetheart. Lovebug. My little lovebug." She clears her throat. "I believe they are terms of endearment."

Steadfast, she directs you towards her palm. Another small Miguel appears, and you think it's him from this morning. 

"I thought I told you not to let anyone in, Lyla?" 

"I did not let her in. She let herself in using the code you previously gave her, Mr O'Hara."

"Yeah, for emergencies. Fuck. Mi bichita, too smart for her own good."

"...If you are in distress, I believe she would understand, Mr O'Hara."

"I just think it's too much. I don't want her to see me like this." 

"According to Alchemax files, previous subjects showing this kind of aggression benefitted from-"

"Lyla, it's not happening, no chance. I can't tell her."

The figure blinks out of her palm. "Mr O'Hara has forbid me from telling you about certain things."

"...but not from showing me." Your eyes meet hers. You give her a watery smile. "Thank you." 

With a hint of a smile, she nods and is gone from the corridor. You are left alone, with nothing but your thoughts of little lovebugs rattling around in your brain.

_

_

_

[yyokkki]

The Prefect's Laugh

Dropping this monstrosity i wrote in September 2023 because I feel like I'm never going to leave this fandom.

First Years x gn! Prefect

Warning: I haven't played chapter 7, Prefect has a distinct personality so it doesn't really count as x reader but some people could find them relatable, a jumble of canon and non-canon events, mild cursing?

Divider by @saradika

It wasn’t that the Prefect never smiled. In fact, they may have smiled a little too often. It could be as simple as a wordless greeting or as complex as a way to cope with fear, but there was one particular expression the first years saw only once in a blue moon. The smile that comes alongside a fit of laughter.

The first time Ace saw the infamous Ramshackle Prefect smile like that was not too long after they had first met. It was a day or two after Heartslabyul’s housewarden overblotted and they’d finally gotten the rose garden in order.

While chatting about that day’s happenings, a rather embarrassing detail was brought up (embarrassing to Ace at least).

“Can we, like, NOT talk about this anymore??”

“I mean, the housewarden was really going in on you and you just stood there and took it but as soon as he said those things about the Prefect’s parents you didn’t even hold back. It’s weirdly sweet of him, right?”

Deuce looked towards the Prefect for their input to which they replied by fervently nodding their head.

“Wow, who could’ve guessed that maybe THE Ace Trappola cares about his friends??”

“…Honestly would’ve believed you more if you said you did it just to prove you could.”

“Pfft-“

Ace’s head whipped to the side, and he stared at the blooming smile on the Prefect’s face. Crinkled eyes, a hand in front of their mouth and slightly flushed cheeks as they tried to hold in their chuckles.

He wanted to make a snarky comment, something like, ‘I’ve been trying to make you laugh for the past two weeks and THIS Is what makes you break?’

Instead, what came out of his mouth was… Silence.

Maybe the new expression was too shocking as he just stared, five parts confusion, three parts embarrassment, two parts bashfulness. The most he could get out of them even with the most well-crafted jokes were slight smirks and yet something Deuce said without even intending to be funny made them crack.

He felt wronged.

And flustered.

…Shit, why are they kinda cute.

Going back to before the overblot, a day that Deuce personally considers more traumatising than his own housewarden’s mental breakdown.

Sorrowfully gazing upon the carnage of eggshells, whites and yolks jumbled up in the plastic bag branded with the words, Mr. S’ Mystery Shop, Deuce gave out another wistful sigh.

“I just hope those chicks can rest in peace.”

“…You know those eggs don't hatch into chickens, right?”

Shocked, flabbergasted, gobsmacked, stunned, stupefied, bowled-over; all words that could be used to describe Deuce Spade’s current state of mind.

“Wh- WHAT??? YOU’RE KIDDING.”

While Deuce was having an epiphany about the eggshell-shocking revelation, he noticed the Prefect’s slightly hunched over back and trembling frame. He was about to go comfort them when he saw their face…

And heard their laughter, ringing out like the sound of wind chimes swaying with the summer breeze, despite it being mid-September.

“YOU’RE LAUGHING???”

He looked at them with five parts feelings of betrayal, three parts despair and two parts anger. He was so offended that he immediately stormed off with the grocery bags in hand, huffing and puffing as he went on his unmerry way.

It wasn’t until later that the Prefect started feeling guilty about their reaction to the incident. It kind of felt like telling a little kid Santa wasn’t real…

They apologised, got him a book about the evolution of egg production, hugged it out and all was forgiven.

It wasn’t until much much later that Deuce Spade realised, he had only seen the Prefect laugh a handful of times, that incident taking up one of the spaces.

It had grown to become one of his favourite sounds in the world.

Jack Howl was never one for bad jokes or witty banter. Whenever he and the Prefect stood together, besides looking like a sturdy tree next to a swaying flower, they didn’t look friendly- much less like friends.

Only the two of them understood the solidarity that came with the silence. They were each others go-to when the other first years got too rowdy.

Truly the mom and dad of the group.

They would occasionally engage in conversation. Somehow when they were together, asking about each other’s day would lead to which parts of home they missed most now that they were away or embarrassing childhood memories, they hadn’t told anyone else about.

It was on a day like any other, a long while after the deep sea overblot.

Jack and the Prefect had finally started speaking to each other comfortably, yet most of their time together was spent just existing in the same room, doing their own thing.

It wasn’t awkward, at least not to the Prefect. But they had to ask just in case.

“Hey, do you ever feel like we don’t really talk when we hang out?”

“…Well, we are at the library.”

“I mean at other places too.”

Jack looked up from his notes, glancing at the Prefect with a little apprehension tracing his features.

“Why? You find it weird?”

“No, I like it a lot, just- I’m not used to it you know? Whether it’s the friends I’ve made here or my friends from back home they’ve never been the type to let the room stay quiet for over five seconds.”

They shifted slightly to cast an inquisitive glance over at him, “I can’t tell if you mind or not.”

Against his very own will, Jack’s tail started flowing slightly. So, they like being around him?

“I feel the same as you. I like our time together.”

Realising he sounded a little too soft, he immediately started backpedalling.

“Not that that means anything. I enjoy spending time with many people, doesn’t make you special.”

After finishing his piece, Jack looked back down at his notes, playing it cool. His tail, however, betrayed his feelings.

"Pfhaha, so cute, it’s like a helicopter-“

“…”

Not knowing how to defend himself, Jack got up to sit across the Ramshackle Prefect, blocking their view of his tail but giving him the perfect angle to catch all their expressions.

…It may be a little too late for him.

It all started with a godforsaken game of PG rated chicken.

Epel Felmier didn’t know whose dumb idea it was to hold a competition like this among all the first years but damn was he killin’ it.

It was almost too easy. It made him feel conflicted. Should he be happy that he’d somehow reached the finals? Or mad that it’s all cause of his face and build?? Either way, the prize was too good to pass up so he was gonna win.

So far he’d been flyin’ through with direct eye contact and a smile or two if his opponents were tougher but the final round had been filling him with a weird sense of dread, so he decided to prepare a little somethin’ special this time.

He doubted he’d have to use it though; he didn’t think very highly of the kids at NRC in this specific department…

That being until he got a text from the organiser telling him who his opponent was, that being: the Ramshackle Prefect.

Well shit.

He knew they never judged anybody, including him, for their appearance, and he’d always appreciated them for that. But in this context, it would make ‘em a tough nut to crack.

Not even mentioning, they knew his weakness when he didn’t have theirs.

He immediately pulled down their chat and started typing ferociously.

‘you. me. ramshackle lounge. after school. please?’ And send.

Might as well get a practise round in to scope the waters.

Luckily, the Prefect considered him a friend and wasn’t overly cautious, so not long after the text was sent an ‘ok’ was promptly sent back.

As soon as school let out, Epel ran into the Prefect in the mirror chamber, and they embarked towards Ramshackle dorm together.

He’d informed them of his intentions while on the way, so they got started after arriving.

First, he tried his usual techniques despite knowing they wouldn’t work. As expected, the Prefect didn’t so much as flinch.

Then they smiled warmly at him.

“Your training has been working out really well, I can see a little more definition on your arms. How do you even do it? What you lack in a natural constitution is already being made up for by your will and perseverence! It's really rare to find people like you out there.”

Shit, a genuine compliment about his mental and physical growth! That’s critical damage, how could they be so dirty, using his weakness against him?

Well, if that’s how they’re gonna play it.

Epel held up his two hands in front of him, forming a heart with his fingers.

The Prefect looked unfazed. They just smiled at him, mockingly (Epel’s perception).

Fine. He’s been left with no choice but to pull out his secret weapon.

“I-If you were a fruit, you’d be a FINEAPPLE!” Absolutely humiliating.

But also absolutely effective.

The Prefect’s mask started cracking at its seams.

“F-fineapple? I never thought I'd ever hear you say anything like that- Pfft hehe-“

He'd won, but his face was as red as his namesake as the visage of his Prefect’s tinted cheeks and choked back giggles entered his heart.

On the day of the competition, he lost miserably. The Prefect ended up passing the prize onto him, claiming they were only participating for fun, but he wasn’t really upset.

It’s for the best that no one else sees that face anyways.

Sebek Zigvolt’s sole purpose for living is to serve his young master as a reliable retainer.

In order to be reliable, he must excel in both academics and athletics. Athletics weren’t worth mentioning and he found all academic subjects easy enough.

All except for art, that is.

Making use of a medium to place your creative vision onto a surface sounded simple, yet the product had never lived up to his expectations, creating a habit of casting fire spells to burn the causes of his shame.

After yet another round of sweeping up the ashes of a canvas, he’d decided enough was enough. As unbecoming as it was, a good retainer would ask for help when he really needed it.

And he really really needed it.

His next course of action was to head over to the staff room and inquire with the Art professor for private lessons, only to be told that she had no empty slots in her schedule.

“If you don’t mind learning from another student, I recommend asking the Ramshackle Prefect to tutor you. They’re one of the best among their peers and I’ve seen them offering help to other students during my classes so I’m sure they wouldn’t mind.”

That magicless human? He’d only ever spoken two or three sentences to them, and he couldn’t stand the uncouth beast following them around every hour of the day, but if they truly were one of the best…

Thus started a deal he would come to regret in the future.

The Prefect wasn’t a bad teacher. They’d gotten him to start on the basics before even thinking of the elaborate portraits he’d always been hellbent on doing.

Once he’d finally grasped the techniques needed, he immediately jumped onto the opportunity to paint his young master, using one of his sacred wallet sized photos as reference. The Prefect stood beside him the whole time, pointing out mistakes and fixing any parts he deemed unsatisfactory.

The only qualm he had was that they’d protested to his idea to paint a wall sized mural, stating that it was too advanced.

With a beautiful portrait in tow, he returned and hung it up near his shrine. It couldn’t compare to his young master’s radiance but it had been the best thing he’d ever painted and he was felling pleased with himself.

An idea came over him. He wouldn’t have been able to do this without their help after all…

And that was what led to him showing up at Ramshackle outside of lesson hours with a small canvas nervously clenched in his hands.

“Human. It didn’t turn out as well without your guidance, but this is a little token of appreciation for your help these past few weeks.” He pushed the portrait into the Prefects hands, ready to accept criticism.

“…”

“Human..?”

“…Pffhehe-, I never expected you to do something so heartfelt for a ‘dumb human’. Heh, I guess I really grew on you!”

“Why are you laughing?! ARE YOU MAKING FUN OF ME??”

If he had his sword on him he would be unsheathing it right now.

“No, no, thanks man, I love it.”

The brightest and most genuine smile he’d ever seen from them blossomed.

He felt his face burn and his heartbeat rise to an abnormal degree as the Prefect’s warm gaze felt as though it were boring into him.

…I must inquire with Master Lilia what hex this human has placed upon me. Right this instant!

[luvismenu]

happy birthday master — jjk one shot

happy birthday to our golden boy!!! 🥺🫶🏻

pairing: boyfriend!jk x fem!reader

warnings: lower case intended, maid cosplay (role-play?), making out, oral (male receiving), praising, hair pulling, spanking, clit play, unprotected sex, use of 'master" , bigdick!jk

wc: 1.7k+

note — not proof-read! y'all better ignore the mistakes cuz i wrote this quickly in one sitting 🥴

♡ — permanent taglist: @wnteraezz @jkvias @jksctrl @blaricee @blluee28 @letmekookk @whoa-jo @wobblewobble822 @jkslvsnella @clxssy1997 @nikkinikj @kayleesaltzmann @rrosiitas @naurnonope @lola75111 @somehowukook @redcherrykook @parkinglot-nights @deluluisdasolulu @minghaosimp @hyeon-yi

you love jungkook more than anything.

and you'd go to the ends of the earth just to see him happy.

it’s his birthday today, and he’ll be home in just a few minutes. he had to go to his office for some work, which, to your relief, ended up taking him a few hours. that extra time was a blessing because it gave you the chance to get everything ready.

you want this to be perfect for him.

after all, he deserves nothing less on his special day.

that is why you bought a cute maid cosplay as a surprise for him!!

you’re a bit nervous about it, unsure if he’ll like it, but you remember the way his eyes lit up when he once mentioned maid cosplays... and just cosplays in general.

jungkook is always so generous with you. he gets you everything you want, often before you even have the chance to ask. and when it's your birthday, he makes sure it's an unforgettable experience, with grand celebrations that leave you in awe.

what you're doing right now might not compare to the extravagant surprises he plans for you, but you’re determined to make this the best birthday he’s ever had.

anything to see that smile on your boyfriend’s face, right?

you’re hiding behind the couch, dressed in your maid outfit, your heart racing with excitement.

your outfit is adorable—the skirt is mid-thigh length, and you notice how it rides up slightly, teasing just a hint of your ass.

the fabric hugging you just right, with a little bow on your chest that really completes the look.

you look like a birthday present (at least, you hope so!)

you’re excited, maybe a little nervous too

you’ve planned this surprise down to the last detail, and all you can do now is hope he’ll love it.

when he switches the lights on, you’re going to jump out like a bunny, and in that moment, you’ll find out if all this effort was worth it.

then, you hear the sound of the door unlocking. your heart skips a beat as you quickly get into position, ready to do your little jump.

“baby? you planning to scare me or something?” you hear him call out as he walks in, the sound of his keys jingling and you don't miss the slight teasing tone in his voice.

your heart is pounding in your chest as you quickly adjust your outfit, trying to steady your nerves.

the lights flick on, and you take a deep breath, jumping right into character.

“welcome home, m-master,” you stammer slightly, a blush creeping onto your cheeks as you see him standing there, his eyes wide with surprise. you almost laugh when you notice him nearly dropping the wine bottle in his hand.

“baby...” he slowly looks you up and down.

you catch the faintest hint of a curse under his breath, and it makes you smile, relieved to see that he’s clearly impressed.

“happy birthday,” you say softly as you walk over to him

“huh—oh, right, it’s my birthday, yeah wow.. fuck” he struggles to find his words, too distracted by your appearance. you chuckle, taking the bottle from him and placing it on the table with the cake and decorations.

his eyes never leave your body, tracing every curve and detail

“what do you think, master?” you ask, biting your lip as you look up at him.

“master?” he echoes, a smirk slowly spreading across his face as he meets your gaze.

“i am your maid for today, gonna serve you good” you reply, your fingers playing with the collar of his shirt, “do you not like it, master?”

“like? baby, i fucking love it!” he says, pulling you close, his arms wrapping around your waist.

“you look so fucking pretty,” his hands slowly drift down, cupping your ass in his palms. you gasp softly, and he grins with satisfaction before leaning in to kiss your neck. “so beautiful,”

you let him grab and squeeze your ass gently, feeling his touch grow more intense. then, he captures your lips in a kiss.

“are you really gonna serve your master, baby?” he whispers against your lips.

“yes,” you breathe out, and he squeezes your

ass harder.

he kisses you again, this time more passionately. his tongue slips into your mouth, making you let out a soft moan. his hands make their way to your hips, giving them a soft squeeze.

after what feels like two minutes, you gently push him back. he looks at you, a little confused.

“you have to at least take one bite of that cake before we do anything else,” you say pointing at the cake.

“oh i'm definitely gonna take a bite,” he says as his hand lands a playful spank on your ass, making you yelp.

you quickly light the candle, the tiny flame flickering. as you finish, he pulls you closer to his side, wrapping an arm around your waist.

“birthday wish?” you ask, tilting your head to look up at him, a soft smile on your lips.

he gazes down at you, his eyes softening, "i have you; what more could i want baby?" he murmurs, pressing a gentle kiss to the side of your face.

with a content sigh, he leans forward and blows out the candle. you carefully slice a piece of the cake, and then lift the piece to his lips. he takes a bite, savoring the taste, his eyes never leaving yours.

“delicious,” he says and you smile, pleased that he's enjoying the cake you made.

as you set the rest of the cake down, you notice a bit of cream on your fingers.

you smirk to yourself before you bring your fingers to your mouth, making sure he's watching every move. you slowly and deliberately suck the cream off your fingers, your tongue swirling around each finger, savoring the sweetness, while your eyes lock with his.

he kisses you immediately, his hands cupping your face, your tongues moving together as soft hums escape both of you. the kiss is urgent, yet passionate.

his breath catches, eyes darkening as he watches you.“fuck,” he breathes out, the word barely audible.

you start unbuttoning his shirt, your fingers fumbling slightly in your eagerness. he helps you take it off with one hand while his other hand grabs a fistful of your hair, pulling you closer, leaving no space between you as he deepens the kiss.

after a few heated minutes, he pulls back, his breath unsteady. “I'm your master for tonight, yeah baby?”

you nod quickly, your heart racing.

“gonna be a good girl for me, hm?”

“yes master,” you drop to your knees before him.

“mmph-fuck, yes baby, you're doing so good,” he groans, his voice thick with pleasure as you gag and drool on his cock. his breathing becomes ragged, each gasp echoing in the room as you take him deeper.

“you look so cute sucking my cock like that,” he murmurs, his hand gripping your hair as he watches you. the sight of your lips wrapped around him, the way your tongue swirls and your eyes water drives him wild. he groans, the sound low and deep, vibrating through his chest as he feels the warmth of your mouth engulfing him.

“fuck... get up, baby,” he orders, his voice filled with urgency. he moves his hand from your hair, helping you to your feet. he turns you around, guiding you into position.

"bend over for me, yeah?" he whispers, his tone commanding yet filled with affection. he pushes you gently down, and your hands grip the couch.

his hand travels down to your ass, giving it a sharp slap that makes you gasp. the sting makes you bite your lip, a mix of pain and pleasure coursing through you.

he doesn't stop there.

he continues delivering several more spanks, each one making you whimper and wriggle.

“you like that, baby?” he asks as he massages your now reddened ass, soothing the burn with soft, circular motions.

“mmfh... master, want you in me,” you whimper

he pulls your panties down in one swift motion, exposing your wetness to him. one hand stays on your hip holding you steady, while the other trails down to your clit. he moves his fingers slowly, rubbing them in teasing circles that make your legs weak. your moans grow louder, and your hips move involuntarily as he continues playing with your clit.

”will you let me cum inside you, baby?” he asks, his voice strained as his fingers continue their assault on your clit.

“yes... yes, please,” you moan out

he slaps your ass once more, the sound sharp and loud. “yes what?”

”yes, m-master,”

a satisfied smirk tugs at the corners of his mouth as he positions himself at your entrance. he teases you for a moment, rubbing the tip of his cock against your wetness before slowly pushing inside.

it feels so fucking good.

your walls stretching as his cock fills you completely.

he feels so fucking good.

“f-fuck master, so big!!” your grip on the couch tightens as you moan loudly. the feeling of his big cock inside you is almost too much, the pleasure so intense

“so tight, so good for me,” he grunts, his thrusts becoming faster, more forceful. the sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room, each thrust driving you closer to the edge.

“such a perfect pussy,”

his hand stays on your hip, holding you in place as the other reaches up to your hair, grabbing a fistful and pulling your head back slightly. the added pressure makes you cry out, your body arching as he pounds into you relentlessly.

“so good... so fucking good,” he groans,

you can feel the heat building inside you, your body trembling. “master, i-i'm close,” you whimper, your voice shaky

“cum for me baby,” he growls, both of his hands moving to your hips to hold you as his thrusts become more urgent.

your body tensing before you cry out his name, your orgasm crashing over you. your walls tighten around him, pulsing as you moan, lost in the pleasure.

“fuck, baby, i'm gonna-" he gasps, his thrusts quickening before he drives into you one last time.

he cums hard, his grip on you tightening as he finds his release, filling you with warmth. for a moment, you both stay still, breathing heavily. slowly, he pulls out, a soft groan escaping his lips.

he then pulls you into his arms

“i love you so fucking much baby," he murmurs, pressing a gentle kiss to your shoulder. "you're perfect.”

“happy birthday, master” you let out a tired chuckle and so does he

“best birthday ever”

[rose-tea-and-strawberries]

Of Lions and Mice

Leona Kingscholar x Reader

Reader is intended to be female

Masterlist

Leona was annoyed.

Once again, his golden goody-two-shoes older brother decided to shirk his responsibility of being a father and dump the overexcited, disgustingly bright-eyed crown prince on him for the day. And not only that, it had to be today of all days - a rare day where you were free from picking up Crowleys’ slack, where the loudmouthed, nattering extras that always followed you were otherwise preoccupied (and bribed to bugger off with a bag full of tuna), where he was certain he’ll spend the day in bed with you right next to him. 

But no. Just like with everything else in his miserable existence, his dreams were crushed and he had to spend the day playing caretaker to his nephew instead of wrapped up with you. What’s worse was that, you’d decided to carry the pint-sized load off of his back and gave your undivided attention to the cub when it should have been rightfully his. How he hated that selfless nature of yours, that sweet, caring, gentle nature that would make you look at anyone that wasn’t him with that loving gaze, that would make you brush your fingers through Cheka’s golden orange curls the same way you would Grim’s fur or the stray cats you’d find around campus or any other being instead of his mane. 

He hated just how loving you were, how your eyes could see the beauty in everything.

How, now that it’s late at night, and he’s closed his eyes and pretended to sleep in his attempt to actually get some shut eye and so that the little hairball would quit bothering him but Cheka just continues yapping.

Even in the darkness under his eyelids, he could feel you cast a worried look his way from the spot where his bed sags a little.

“Hey Cheka,” your sweet, dulcet voice (which is currently being used to please his nephew and not sooth him to sleep with the sweet nothings it usually does) pipes up, “how about I tell you a bedtime story from my world?”

“A bedtime story?!” Wow, even with his eyes closed he could see the stars coming out of his nephew's eyes, “yes please!”

Once the little cub has settled into bed, he asks you, “do you know any stories from your world with lions in them?

“Any ones with lions? Hmm, well, I suppose I could tell you about Narnia but I think you might be a bit too young for that and - wait,” you punctuated your words with a snap of your fingers, “I know a short one. There was this man called Aesop who wrote these short stories called fables.”

“What’s a fable?” Cheka asked, his words covered in that innocently curious lilt that all six year olds seemed to have during every occasion Leona wished they wouldn’t - and that was all of them.

You, however, seemed to have much more patience than him, “A story with a moral in them. Like, always be honest, or share, or work together, that sort of thing. I had a book of them when I was younger and I really enjoyed reading them.”

Figures. Of course, the shining beacon of sickeningly polite goodness grew up with such stories. He would’ve teased you for that but he had a child who he’s still trying to convince he was asleep.

“That sounds so cool, Aunty Y/N! Will you tell me more?”

“Of course, I will,” he can hear your smile, “but I’ll tell you them later, okay. Now, it’s time for you to rest.” 

“Okay, Aunty Y/N.”

“Alright so,” you clear your throat, “there was once a lion that lay asleep in his den. A shy little mouse came upon him and in her fright she ran away, only whilst doing so she accidentally ran over his head, waking him up.”

“Oh no,” Cheka gasped, “that lion is going to be so angry if he wakes up.”

Oh, so the little hairball does have a brain after all. 

“You’re right. Furious that he had been woken up, the big lion slammed a paw down on the tiny mouse and grabbed her by the tail. Holding her up, he growled at her,” here you made your voice noticeably deeper, trying to imitate a gruff growl, ““How dare you wake me up! I am the king of beasts and anyone who interrupts my slumber deserves to die! I shall kill you and eat you!””

It took everything within Leona to not burst into laughter at your adorable imitation of a ‘big scary lion’. It’s a voice you’ve used before whenever you tease him, playfully repeating the words his old self would have said to you, and it’s one that he’s rather fond of. 

He loves and respects you, Herbivore, and he’s the first to attest to your formidability and capability - even though you have the annoying tendency to not only blur the line between bravery and reckless stupidity but also play skipping rope with it - but intimidating you are not. 

“This scared the terrified mouse even more. Shaking with fear, she begged for him to let her go,” you make your voice higher at this part, squeaking in a way that oddly suited you, in Leona’s not so humble opinion, ““please, your majesty, I beg of you, please don’t eat me. It was only a mistake and if you let me go I’ll be sure to repay you. If you spare my life one day, I might even save yours.””

“The lion looked at the tiny creature and laughed, amused at how such a small mouse could ever be of use to an animal as powerful as him, “You? Save me? How absurd. You’ve made me laugh and put me in a good mood so I shall be generous and let you go.”

“Thank you, your majesty, thank you,” the mouse squeaked as she was put back on the ground, before scurrying away as fast as fast as her little legs could carry her.”

“Yay, so the mouse is free.” Cheka giggled.

“He is,” you said, “but there’s still more left. A few days later, the lion was prowling around when out of nowhere he was caught in a hunter’s net. Try as he might, he couldn’t get out of it. He tossed and turned, roaring angrily as he struggled to escape.”

“Wait, so now the lion’s in trouble. How’s he going to get out?” Cheka asked in worry. 

“You’ll see. Hearing his cries, the mouse followed the sound, recognising it from the lion he met earlier.

“I have to help him,” she squeaked as she scampered towards him.”

Upon seeing the lion in the net, she said, “hold still your majesty, I’ll get you out!”

And she quickly started to nibble on the ropes with her sharp little teeth, biting until all they broke apart. It wasn’t long until the lion was free.”

“So the mouse saved him. Was it because the lion helped him earlier?”

“It certainly was Cheka. “Thank you, little mouse,” the lion said, “I laughed at you and didn’t think you could ever help me but you saved my life.”

“It was my turn to help you.” The mouse replied, ”never forget that even a creature as small as a mouse can help a lion.”

And that’s the end,” you say.

“Thank you, Auntie Y/N, I really enjoyed that. Do you think the lion and mouse became friends after that?”

“You are very welcome, Cheka. I think they did. They did help each other, after all. Now I think it’s time to go to sleep.”

And once you were sure that the crown prince was asleep, you made your way next to your boyfriend, running your fingers through chestnut locks, “did you enjoy that little story, Leona.”

He opens his eyes to see your endeared smile. Rolling over so that he could wrap his arms around your waist he muses, “it seems awfully familiar don’t you think? A scared little herbivore wakes up a sleeping lion and ends up saving him later.”

“I’ll have you know, Your Highness, that I was never scared of you. Even when you were a rude old brute who threatened to knock out one of my teeth. And I’m certainly not little.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever you say.” 

He pulls, letting you flop down on his bed beside him so that he can spoon you.

“Sweet dreams, little mouse,” he kissed your forehead, “I hope you know that I don’t ever intend on letting you go. Not after you helped in ways you could never even imagine.”

And so the lion fell asleep, holding the prey who rescued him from the confinement of his past safely in his arms.

[lovrre]

Agreement Prt2

I wrote half of this to Need by pinegrove ♫

Art Donaldson x fem black reader

Prt1 here

Word count: 3k

Warnings: smuttt,unprotected sex, creampie,slight breeding kink if you squint. cursing (ofc) slightly domestic relationship (not with Art)and probably some other stuff.

Summary: Despite being engaged to one of the top and richest tennis players in the US, you feel unfulfilled. But everything changes when you transfer schools and meet Art Donaldson, who just can’t quit you.

Author note: I’m so glad I finished I was scared I wasn’t, but your comments gave gave me motivation. Thank you pookies 🫦 I like this one a lot more than the first one. Arts also very obsessed and in love in this one.

After twenty minutes, you finish your meal, alone. You decide to leave through a back exit to avoid the paparazzi waiting outside the hotel entrance. You stumble upon a narrow hallway and carefully make your way out, trying not to attract any attention. When you reach the entrance of the restaurant, you open the door and are greeted by a charming and seemingly empty establishment. The cozy yellow lighting, old pictures, and paintings on the walls, along with the white tablecloths and wooden woven chairs, remind you of an old Italian restaurant you and Art used to go to. You see moving in your peripheral and catch a glimpse of familiar golden locks.

You walk closer to see Art and Patrick sitting at a small square table with a vacant seat, you assume is reserved for you. Patrick with a full plate of food and Art without. "Patrick?" You question, your voice filled with suspicion as you creep towards the table. He looks back at the sound of your In voice, a smile forming on his face as he stands up, “What the hell are you doing here?” You ask, taken aback going in for a hug. Patrick returns it with a laugh before releasing from the hug slightly to look at Art.

“Ask him” You look between them confused. “I asked him to come here” Art states, adjusting in his seat. “Why?“ you ask clearly confused with the situation, “someone could see” you add your gripping the back of your chair almost afraid to sit down. “I bought the place out for an hour, it’s just us” Art reveals looking up at you. “You what?” you exclaim, a bit louder than you intended.

“I’ll explain everything in a minute, just sit” Art laughs, gesturing for you to sit down. You let out a sigh, reluctantly pulling out your chair. “Ok tell me what is going on” you say, slightly impatient. “We’ve got a plan for your marriage situation”, Patrick says, mixing his ice tea with his straw. “A plan?” you repeat, still confused. "Yes, a plan," Art confirms with a nod. Patrick takes a quick sip of his tea before opening a tan folder that he hadn't noticed before. “The private investigator dropped these off at the dorm the other day”, Patrick says, pushing the open folder towards you.

Inside were pictures of your fiancée , kissing all types of women. The worst part is, it was so obvious, he didn’t have a care in the world, every photo taken on different days in different settings. Outside, inside in the morning and at night, all different women.

You knew you shouldn't be upset, but you were, not because he was seeing other people behind your back, shit you were doing that same with Art, but it was the fact he acted holier than thou. That he continued to try and control you while actively putting your agreement at risk. “Wow…” you mutter.

Shuffling through the photos. “That’s not even all of them” Art says.

“Yeah… I accidentally left the other ones, but these are the most important ones. There’s also some paperwork underneath with names, time stamps and dates on stuff” Patrick ads. “How isn’t this everywhere?” You ask, furrowing your brow. “The investigator thinks he’s been paying them off,” Patrick says, taking a sip of his drink.

"Not that I don't want you here, but couldn't you just have faxed these over?" you ask, raising an eyebrow.

"Well, yeah... but then I'd miss the match," Patrick says with a grin, taking a bite of his food. "Plus, I would never miss an opportunity to help my best buds."

"Okay, so what are we doing with these?" you ask, holding up the pictures in confusion.

"We're going to spin it," Patrick replies, still chewing his food. "My plan," Art reminds him, "my bad," Patrick laughs, still chewing his food. You couldn’t help but smile, you’d missed the three of you together.

"We're going to spin it," Art repeats, making you smile wider. "Is this why you're training with my father?" you interject . Art nods in response. "Why didn't you tell me any of this last night?"

Art didn't say anything, a knowing smile spread across his face. Patrick looks between the two of you "freaks," he jokes, "Anyway... how do you plan on spinning it?" You ask, ignoring his comment.

“We lean into the infidelity, take a couple of photos of you crying, the two of you arguing, or something like that release them”, Art explains confidently.

“But… I don’t see how this stops us from getting married, it’ll just look like I got cheated on,” you say, scrunching your brow.

“We’re hoping this, plus me winning today, will be enough to persuade the media against him?”

“You believe you can win?”

“I do,” he nodded.

“Okay… I’m down.”

“Told you,” Patrick added, still drinking his tea.

“Are you especially thirsty or something today?” you ask, tilting your head slightly watching him slurp down his tea. A second one untouched, waiting for him.

“I am actually, thank you for noticing,” Patrick says with a big smile before taking another sip.
You notice Art's eyes drop to Patrick’s plate for a second time while you two are talking.

“You should eat.”

“What?” Patrick says, looking between the two of you who seemed to be having your own conversation. 

“No, I’m okay,” Art says, shaking his head.

“Mike had French toast for breakfast, I think you could have-“ you cut yourself off, looking down at Patrick’s plate. “Egg and sausage.”

“You guys aren’t talking about my food?” Patrick asks, slightly disturbed by your conversation.

“Patrick, I can buy you some more damn eggs,” you assure him as Art pulls the plate from under him.

“What just happened?” Patrick asked, looking around confused with no food in front of him.

Your phone rings, and you look down to see who it is. “It’s my Dad,” you inform, excusing yourself you answering the phone as you walk out of earshot.

The two of them watch your backside as you walk away. “She still looks good”, Patrick bites his lip, leaning over to Art.


“Careful, ” Art warns.


“What? you guys can joke about but I can’t?”


“Exactly”, Art laughs, plucking him on the head.

~~~~

With a dig, the elevator door opens, releasing you to your floor. You walk to your room, opening the door with your key card. Mike is packing stuff away in his duffle bag, getting ready to see your father. You don’t acknowledge him walking past him into the bedroom,leaving the door open. You sit on the edge of the bed carefully taking off your heals, you stand up and unzip the back of your dress with ease. The dress gracefully falls into a pile at your feet leaving you in only your underwear. You step over your dress and begin looking through your suitcase located in the closet. The sound of footsteps causes you to look up to see Mike in the doorway watching you.


“Where are you going?” Mike asked, leaning on the door frame slightly. You don’t answer right away looking for your dress under your neatly folded clothes. “There’s a press meeting with Art Donaldson's team, My Dad thought it’d look good if I’d came ” you say, moving more clothes around. “You didn’t come to mine” Mike states still watching you search.

“You didn’t ask me to” you responded, pulling out a light pink dress from your suitcase. There’s a beat of silence as Mike watches your actions "and you need to change for this press meeting?” Mike asks, raising an eyebrow. "No, but I want to” you say, standing up. When you see mike's eyes roaming up and down your body, you suddenly remembered you were only in your underwear. 


“Can you turn around or something” you ask, scrunching your face up in disgust. “I’ve seen more than this” Mike chuckles before obliging and turning around. You roll your eyes by stepping into your dress. “I’m sorry for how I acted this morning, I’m just stressed,” he admits.

" Really?," you hum, pulling up the straps of your dress.

"I don't want to be that guy," Mike responds, still facing away.

"But you are constantly being that guy..." you mumble, but Mike hears you. 

"I won't anymore. I want this marriage to work y/n, I.”


You release a heavy sigh at his word. “You can turn around now ” You announce zipping up the side of your dress. Mike turns around and watches as you sit back on the edge of the bed putting on your heels. “You’re still going to that thing?” Mike asks with a confused expression. “What about that conversation gave off the vibe that I was no longer going?” You say pulling your stiletto over your heel.


Mike goes silently for a moment watching you walk toward the bathroom. “Like you need more makeup?” Mike scoffs. “Be honest with me are you fucking him?” He asks from behind you in the doorway while you remove a bit of smudged lipstick. “are you serious right now?” You ask staring at him through the reflection in the mirror. “I’m not a fucking idiot, I saw the way you looked at each other, and I get the feeling that’s wasn’t your first time meeting” 


“Only god knows what you’re doing at that college” you can’t stop your self from laughing. “I think you’re projecting” you say walking past him towards the door, picking up your purse on the way. “Where the fuck are you going?” Mike calls out, following you. 

You swing the door open and step out into the hallway. Mike trails behind and tries to grab your arm to pull you back inside. “DONT TOUCH ME!” You yell yanking your arm back. “C’mon Don’t make a scene” Mike says looking around. 


“You have some fucking nerve, you know that? Your friend Isabel came up here earlier looking for you, I’m guessing you guys have a lot of fun In Detroit” you say with a smile. “When were you in Detroit again…my birthday? You ask rhetorically, Mike goes silent for a moment before responding.
 "I don't know what you're talking about," he says, trying to keep his voice down. "You don't?" you question. "What about Sarah, Kim, Kate, Alex? Do you not know them either?" Mike opens his mouth, then closes it. "Yeah…" you drawl, 


"they meant nothing to me... I just needed to get it out of my system before fully committing. I want this to work, I want this to be real, y/n," Mike says, trying to corner against the door in a situation similar to the one you were in with Art last night.

"That's the dumbest shit I've ever heard," you respond, attempting to push past him. He grabs you again using his strength. You had forgotten how strong he actually was. “Last warning” you say looking up at Mike. he can tell by the look in your eyes you’re serious, he doesn’t know exactly what you’re going to do but something in his gut said don’t test it. “Let. Go” you repeat one more time before a voice interrupts you.

“Is everything ok?” Patrick asked from the end of the hallway. "Yeah, everything's fine," Mike reassured with a smile, gently releasing his grip on him. "We'll continue this conversation later," Mike says, forcing a tight-lipped smile as he presses the elevator button. "No, we won't," you smile back with a wave, as the elevator door chimes and he leaves. "Are you okay?" Patrick asks, walking up to you. "Yeah, he wasn’t going to hit me, he knows better," you laugh. "I was actually more concerned about you hitting him," Patrick jokes.

“I got the picture though” he smiles, showing you a camera and clicking through the images of your altercation with Mike.”These are good, you should take them now, I’ll call Art and tell him I’m on the way” you say, pulling out your phone.

“I’ll miss the game” Patrick states with a slight pout.

“Not if you hurry.”

~~~~~

"I won't keep you much longer, just a few more questions," the female interviewer says, holding the microphone up to Art. "Was the training for this upcoming match particularly challenging?" Before the interviewer could finish her sentence, Art was shaking his head. "Not necessarily, different for sure, but not harder."

"As of now, can you confirm or deny the rumor that you have started working with Olympic Coach Dylan Y\L\N?" the interviewer asked, lifting the mic slightly closer to his mouth. "Ummm," Art hesitates, accompanied by a smile. "I think I can. Yes, Dylan is my new coach."

"So you and your opponent today have trained under the same coach?" the interviewer asks, scrunching her brow. "Yes, we have," Art nods. "One more question, is there any special woman in Art Donaldson's life right now?" the interviewer asks with a smile. The sound of camera clicking intensifies, catching Art's attention. Intrigued, the interviewer turns around as well. "She is beautiful," Art says absentmindedly, staring in the direction where you're coming from. You give small waves to friends as you walk in. "That's your opponent's fiancé... and I guess also your trainer's daughter?" the interviewer says, looking confused and turning back to face Art.

"Really?" Art asks, faking shock with a dazed expression. "Yes," the interviewer nods. "I mean.. I meant what I said, She is beautiful," Art said with a laugh, causing the interviewer to join in. His eyes never leaving you. "Does your coach know you have a crush on his daughter?" the interviewer joked, chuckling. "He might now," Art says with a laugh before giving a quiet , "Nice meeting you," as he walks away out of frame.

A short while later, you find yourself reaching for a bottle of water from a nearby table, inserting one of those adorable green straws they had. Just as you're about to take a sip, a voice catches you off guard from behind. "There you are," Art says, a smile lighting up his face as he jogs towards you. As he approaches, you can't help but notice how close he gets, almost too close.

"You're not exactly great at keeping secrets, huh?" you chuckle, taking a step back. Art smirks, "Can't two friends have a conversation?" Peeking over your shoulder at the ongoing interviews, you reply with a straw in your mouth, "We're not even supposed to be friends. You're supposed to be my Dad's client, or from what I heard your crush." You laugh, recalling a question from one of the interviewers. "You're going to get us caught," you whisper quietly into the straw.

"I understand. I can't stand next to my trainer's daughter," Art nods, "Orrr, my opponents, fiancé, but maybe can I stand close to my crush?" Art asks.

 “I think you could, yeah” you nod trying to keep the smile on your face. “Crush it is,” Art says with a smile taking a step forward, yet still maintaining a slight distance. “Did you get the pictures?” Art asks his eyes falling down to your lips. “Yeah, we got them," you confirm with a nod, unable to hide your smile when you notice his lingering gaze. “So we’re in the clear?” his eyes still fixated on your lips, as if he's ready to pounce. "Not yet," you laugh, taking a step back. "We have to wait for them to go to press." Art throws his head back with a strained laugh, and you can't help but watch his Adam's apple bobs up and down. You hadn’t realized until that moment how much you wanted him, it was an all consuming need.

“Just one day," you murmur, unsure if you're speaking to Art or yourself. "Just one day," Art echoes, his eyes now fixed on your neck, his finger brushing your curls away. You watch as he exhales shakily, looking at the fading hickeys on your shoulder, barely hidden by makeup. "Just one day," you remind, removing his hand from your chest. "Just one day," Art repeats, tearing his gaze away to look back up at you. "Your car is here, Mr. Donaldson," a man in black approaches and announces.

“One minute” Art says, gesturing for another second. The man nods in acknowledgment and walks away. “Come with me?” Art asked. “I don’t think that’ll look good.” You alluded to the countless people with cameras surrounding you.

“I couldn’t care less” Art says, shaking his head slightly. “I’d kiss you right here, if you’d let me ” Arts words catch you off guard, and you take a deep breath to try to steady your heart beat. 

“This planning stuff is more for you than me, so you can feel more comfortable. And I’m perfectly fine doing it,’s just …” he trails of his eyes falling back down to your lip. "Alright, I'll come," you rush out, convincing yourself it's to prevent him from kissing you right then. But deep down you knew you just wanted to be near him. You follow closely behind.

Art swiftly enters the car before you lean up, capturing you with a kiss. Before you could even fully step inside, his hand gently grasped your cheek, drawing you closer to his lips as he guided you into the vehicle. Lost in the intensity of the moment, you surrender to the kiss. practically falling inside. The sound of the car door closing behind you brings you back to reality, but the kiss continues to deepen. Suddenly, the driver rolls up the partition, creating a sense of privacy.

A sense of responsibility tugs at you, and you reluctantly break the kiss when Art's hand starts to wander up your bare leg. "We can't," you whisper, "We don't even have a condom," you add, hoping the driver couldn’t overhear.


“You’re right” Art mumbles, sitting back against the seat trying to catch his breath. “ I lost myself for a second” Art laughs, attempting to slow his heartbreak. ”After the game I’ll come to your room” you nod, looking forward trying to gather yourself. “Don’t talk about that, talk about something else” Art says his voice coming out more strained. “Like what?” You turn around and ask. Your eyes landing on the strained erection in his pants. “Oh!” You say, snapping your head back forward. The familiar ache of your core comes back, and you have to bite the inside of your cheek in an attempt to control yourself.


Against your better judgment, you take another peak. His hard shaft still straining against the fabric, you could damn near see the veins on his dick. “Can I?” You ask in a voice barely above a whisper. “Y-yeah” Art replies with a nod agjusting in his seat. You rub your hand back and forth against the Arts bulge while listen as his breath becomes more and more ragged.


Art makes a low moan and that’s enough for you to begin unzipping his pants. Against his better judgment he stops you. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah” you nod breathlessly, fumbling with his pants, pulling them down until his dick springs free. When you begin pumping his shaft, he takes in a sharp breath which causes you to smile. You savor the feeling of his heavy dick in your hand, trying to combat the thoughts of his thick long length inside you. When Art's hips buck into your hand, you fold. “I need you inside of me”, Art opens his mouth to protest and then closes, watching as you bunch up your dress around your waist, pull your panties to the side and straddle him. He grabs your waist with one hand and lines himself up with your entrance with the other. 


You sink onto him with a little too loudly of a moan and Art does the same. Opening his mouth for a sloppy kiss, he doesn’t wait for you to adjust to his size, moving you up and down his dick by your waist. ”shit I-“ Art groans out a wave of pleasure hitting him.
“-I can’t go back to condoms” he moaned, scrunching his brow in pleasure. You laugh and Art quickly retaliates by slamming you hard down on him. You let out a loud moan reflexively using your hand, trying to pull off slightly.

Art moves your hand out of the way, holding you down on him by your waist. “I’m serious”, Art grows leaning forward for another kiss while returning to his previous, rhythm. His words cause you to squeeze around him, and he lets out another low ground throwing his head back, breaking the kiss.



“I’m not going to last much longer” Art says breathlessly. “Just a little longer baby” you coo, leaving kisses on his Adam’s apple down his neck. “You drive me crazy, you know that” you moan feeling his pace fastest. “I do?” you feel Art smile against your cheek. You nod, falling into the crook of his neck enjoying the feeling of him fucking into you. “I want you to cum in me” you whisper, kissing the crook of his neck. “Fuck” Art groans, throwing his head back again. “You’re going to kill me” he states with a strained laugh.


You feel your release building so you decide to taunt him. ”you don’t want to fill me up?” You ask innocently, removing your head from the crook of his shoulder. Look down at him with lust, filled eyes. “Don’t” Art warns, his grip on your waist tightening, “you don’t want to give me a baby?” You huff out trying to keep your voice steady literally feeling him in your stomach. “Fuc- shit shit shitttt” Art moans holding you down onto him filling you up with his cum. His moans echoed through the car, the poor driver. 


“Fuck,” Art states after a minute. “Yea fuck,” you laugh, leaving a kiss on his cheek. “I think I might have a breeding kink”. Art laughs, “Me too,” you say with a smile, leaving another kiss on his head. You feel him twitch inside you, and knowing Art, you knew he would be ready for round two in a minute. You try to get off, but he holds you tighter, keeping you stationary. 

“I want it to stick” he smiles. Oh his smile, you rolled your eyes. You loved him, you knew it now, and you had a feeling he did too. You had been lying to yourself pretending you liked you didn’t care as much as he did. But at that moment you knew you never wanted anyone but him.



You glance out the window to see you were seconds away from the stadium, and then you notice your father standing on the sidewalk. “Oh my god! MY DAD HERE” you say, scurrying out of Art's lap. Art looks out the window, seeing your father standing on the sidewalk expectingly. “Shit” Art huffs, sitting up slightly, pulling up his pants, you take a wet rag next to the champagne and quickly wipe the inside of your leg. You quickly fix yourself before rushing to wipe off any remains of your lipstick off his mouth with your hand.

"Oh no, do I have lipstick on my mouth?" you ask frantically. "Nope, all clear," Art replies with a grin, planting a quick kiss on your lips. "Art," you warn, settling back in your seat. "My bad," Art chuckles, getting ready to exit the car. The car come to stop and your dad Yanks open the door.

"Hurry up, we're late. Mike's already inside," your Dad urges, When he sees you, his expression turns puzzled.

"We were heading in the same direction, so we decided to ride together," you explain before he can say anything. Your dad eyed you both suspiciously. "Alright, let's go," he says, ushering Art into the building. You wanted to say goodbye or wish him luck, and you could sense Art wanted to as well but it would be just too obvious.

You step out of the car, rummaging through your wallet. You tap on the driver's window, and he rolls it down. "Sorry about that," you apologize, handing him a 100 dollar bill before heading into the building.

Once inside the stadium you sit next to your Dad’s team which was now also partially Arts team and somehow also Mikes. Your phone buzzes and look down to see a familiar unsaved number.

“I think your Dad on to us”

“What did he say?” you text back anxiously your fingers moving fast on the keys.

“Nothing really, but i think he knows”

“Did he seem mad?”

“Not really”

“That’s good” you send, letting out a sigh you didn’t know you were holding in.

“Good luck :)” you add before stuffing your phone in your purse . Almost immediately your phone dings and you pull it back out.

“You gave me enough of that in the car ; )” you can’t help but smile at his corniness.

“You’re nasty.”

“Not as nasty as you” you’re about to laugh at his message when you hear a voice directly behind you. “You guys are actually freaks” Patrick says with a laugh jumping over the seat so he was directly next to you. “I applaud you guys for staying consistent at least” Patrick says lightly hitting you on the shoulder. “Can you mind your business” you say rolling your eyes, stuffing your phone in your purse.

“Actually I’ve been minding you two’s business all day with no pay by the way” Patrick adds. “So I think I’ve earned the right to be a little nosy” Patrick says making a pinching gesture.

“So you delivered the pictures?”

“Yes” he responded with a nod

“Thank you” you express your appreciation, turning your attention back to the court.

“Do you think he’s gonna win” Patrick asks leaning in slightly, curious to your answer.

"I hope so, but I don't know. I haven't seen him play in a while," you admit with a weak smile, the reality of the situation sinking in. "I really hope he does win," you mumble.

Author note : GUYS FEEL FREE TO COMMENT I LOVE READING COMMENTS

[mandacantu]

10 Reasons Why I Actually Loved The Crow Remake

FKA Twigs - I'm not going to sit here and pretend I am not a huge twigs fan, because I love anything she touches and especially her music. This was her first time as a leading lady and I thought she did a good job. I do think there were some points where her line reading could have been a little more fast paced in some spots, but overall, I think she was captivating, eloquent and emotional. And wow, so many stunning visuals that we got of her from this movie!

2. We didn't have to see depictions of brutal and violent deaths of women in this film. I didn't want to spend too many of my thoughts on comparisons to the original The Crow, but one thing I noticed was that I didn't have to endure the violent and sexually abusive death of Shelly or any other woman in this movie. I do like the original movie but never cared for the way they went all in on Shelly's death. In this remake, we still see Shelly die but we don't have to endure gratuitous SA scenes whilst losing the leading lady. I appreciated that and was able to relax more, honestly.

3. The villain had actual motivation for killing and being a villain. There was some decent backstory and character development for the villain and that is something that I always appreciate. Some of my favorite pieces of media (like Spirited Away and Knives Out) do well to at least give the villain a story or a reason for being bad. I think it adds depth to the story and for me, helps immerse me into the plot more.

4. It felt like a comic book come to life. From the color grading and palette to the way scenes were cut and moved from one to the next, it felt like I was flipping through a comic book. There were moments that were very whimsical in depictions of love and then very gritty scenes. The contrast in some of those scenes felt similar to flipping a page in a comic.

5. It was very romantic and spent a lot of time focusing on their love story. I thought their love was believable and felt like that whirlwind kind of love where you just want to party and kiss all night. It gave me a reason to care about both of the characters and it gave Shelly a place in the spotlight where she becomes so much more than just a symbol of loss for character development. Focusing on their love and giving us some romance was a timeless decision and puts their love story up there with Romeo and Juliet or Christian and Sateen.

6. Soundtrack was amazing! If you are into some new wave, some goth tunes and some dance tracks, this is the playlist for you. Beyond just the soundtrack, it was truly a different experience to see it synced up to parts of the movie as intended. The intro was amazing, I thought it was like a James Bond meets Underworld mixed with some NIN music video sprinkled in there. The folks who worked on the score deserve a standing ovation. There were moments where I was tearing up because of how well the music paired with the scene. Most memorable and moving was Joy Division's Disorder when they bust out of rehab together and a perfectly placed Boadicea by Enya. There were so many other good ones too, I'm seriously considering seeing it again just for the mini music videos you get from the film.

7. It was aesthetically pleasing. And I'm not just talking about the eye candy that was Bill Skarsgård, though lets give him his flowers for being a true Mr. Fanservice! The actual visuals were beautiful. I loved the cinematography and color choices. It was truly a feast for the eyes. Just take a look at this beautiful gif set by pizgif!

8. I could easily see a story about grief and the longing for justice for loved ones. I thought it was a good story and as I watched it, I thought to myself that the person who wrote the original comic must have gone through an immense loss. It wasn't until I looked it up that it seems to be confirmed that The Crow was inspired by such loss. The moodiness of the movie itself added to the weight of the tragic storyline. In that, I liked that it takes a while for Eric to become The Crow. Losing someone you love transforms you and in this sense, the movie is all about that transformation and pain and longing.

9. I liked the ending. I don't want to say too much to spoil it, but I enjoyed the different ending and I was definitely teary eyed and sniffling as I left the theater.

10. It was goth as fuck. I think goth can be a multitude of styles and honestly shouldn't be something that has a gatekeeper. This was emo-boy-goth, it was e-boy-tiktok-hottie-goth, it was goth in a different flavor. I think folks are quick to see this new Eric not dressed like a new-wave-leather-daddy-goth as decidedly not dark enough. To quote a favorite musician, he was "goth as fuck, even when [he's] not in black, gothic is the pain you feel and not the clothes that's on your back."

Closing thoughts: A lot of the negative criticism is coming from men or diehard fans of the 1994 movie, so I am not surprised. This rendition felt like the same story, just done differently and with more emphasis on the love story than the revenge plot. There is nothing wrong with that and nothing wrong with a gothic romance heavy action flick.

This was intended to be a different version of The Crow and that isn't a bad thing. I personally think that if they had done the styling to be an exact replica of Brandon Lee's rendition then the movie would still get tons of hate, if not more. It was a "damned if you do, damned if you don't" situation for sure. I'm glad they took a risk and deviated from the '94 version.

We have been doing remakes since the creation of art. It has always been common to hear that the new movie coming out is actually a retelling of this classic tale or continuation of that scary story. Remakes are not a new concept and some of them do well to tell the same story in a different way. We are in the day and age where there isn't really an original idea anymore, anyway. In a world full of countless retellings of Batman/Joker and Spiderman movies, why not remake The Crow? I say fire it up!

I think they do a good job to pave the way for others to retell this love story in the same vein as The Joker and Harley Quinn. Hell, I would say to keep going, next let's see a remake where The Crow is about two badass lesbians. (I might have gotten too peppered up watching the movie, it was hot.)

P.S. I loved that there were little things like Eric wearing Shelly's jacket later in the movie. I feel like a lot of critics saw him wearing this jacket and were quick to bash the costume design too, but this is the kind of attention to detail that made their love believable to me. And I thought he looked cute as hell in it.

Okay, the end.

[shokiren]

pairing: rin itoshi x reader summary: you, anonymously, run a gossip corner in the schools daily newspaper. the question of your true identity arises in many questions each day, and you must act oblivious to it all at any costs– though, the only people who are aware of your identity are some of the seniors in your literary club, and your closest of friends. though, your anonymity is soon endangered when your quiet classmate, itoshi rin, learns of your little secret. can you charm him to keep your secret?

a/n: yay guys finally an update!! sorry i completely forgot about this, and i wrote this between exam season. it might be shitty i'm not sure, but i hope you like it.

You leaned back into your chair, sighing.

“Dear Gentlest Readers, how have you been? I hope that you’ve been healthy and whatnot, because the news I'm about to tell you is.. something. Are you aware that the Miss Two-Goody Shoes, Yumi Nakamura, has been secretly seeing a postgraduate, Mister Kaito Takahashi? How very obscene!.....”

You covered everything about your school– the events being organised to the latest flings of the students. But lately, nothing really interesting has been happening. It’s all the same. Someone dates someone, and in most of the cases, dumps them because the other person is ‘too much’.

Fuck This, you think to yourself as you get up. You were staying behind in school to write this article in more peace and quiet, which you’d generally not get at home. You walk out of the classroom to walk around, brainstorming about what to write.

Rin Itoshi, the brooding athlete. He wasn’t exactly a ray of sunshine– and didn’t intend to be one either. He mostly kept clear of any rumours, but that was hard to do since his female classmates would practically throw themselves at him. He’d brush them off with a glare.

But recently, he heard about an article in the ‘Gossip Corner’ of the student newspaper. He swears that he popped a vein on his head after what it was about.

“Looks like the Younger Itoshi and the Older Itoshi have a long-going feud. Judging by the cold glares between them when the All-Known Footballer came to pick up his sweet, younger brother…..”

How in the world did this person know anyway? This was something that was strictly restricted for his family only. However, he respects the fact that this anonymous person didn’t go into more details about the said ‘feud’. He was at football practice, and had seemingly noticed that his bottle was missing. He excused himself and went up to get it. He glided through the stairs, running towards the classroom you were previously sitting in.  He did see his water bottle standing on his designated table, but also a laptop on the table you were designated. He was a bit skeptical, and sure, he shouldn’t peek because there might be some personal stuff on there.

Still, he couldn’t help his curiosity, and decided to see anyway. On the laptop, there he saw a word with a paragraph half-written, starting with the words that could be recognized anywhere if you were a student of Rakuho High School. 

His eyes widened as he inched closer, reading the paragraph. Oh, it was here this whole time?, he thought. He wouldn’t have given two shits if it weren’t for the mention of him and his brother in one of the articles. 

To be honest, Rin didn’t really notice you a lot other than the times you were scolded for talking too much in class, or when you were being loud with your friends. And now, he noticed you clearly.

You came back into the class– carefree, and humming to the tune of an advertisement you were particularly fond of. So, imagine your surprise when you see Itoshi Rin hunched over your laptop, reading intently.

You shrieked as you hurried over, shutting the laptop as you stared up at him with furrowed eyebrows. Wow, he was a bit pretty when looked at up-close, you thought– but quickly brushing it off.

“So, you’re the snitch?” Looks like someone got caught red-handed.

taglist (open): @raphsimp, @bxddiebloss, @rinitoshisgirl, @someprettyname, @gojoracle + @kurona-theshark

[child-of-the-nights]

Various characters on your birthday

A/N: So this is very self indulgent because yesterday was my birthday (yippee!) but I wrote some headcanons with a few of my fav characters from the fandoms I write for. Anyway have fun reading!

Warnings: none

Characters: Aro Volturi, Emperor Belos, Elrond, Shadow Weaver, Thranduil

Aro Volturi:

Now, celebrating birthdays in the vampire world is a little bit different. Since most people at the palazzo have been alive for centuries, they don't really celebrate their birthdays every year. It's more like every decade or even every 100 years.

However, if Aro's mate is still human or a newborn vampire, they can expect to have a big party thrown for them. Even if they prefer solitude, they can expect to at least have the family invited. That being Caius, Marcus, Athenodora and Sulpicia.

Aro obviously gets his mate the best gifts. He can, after all, see their deepest wishes with a single touch. His mate had seen something online and thought "wow, it would be nice to have this"? Aro had already added it to the list of possible birthday gifts.

Obviously he would buy them more meaningful gifts as well. For example, maybe the mate absolutely loves a certain book series, well Aro would commision someone to make them a special edition of the books.

His mate can expect to find love notes and poems all over the place on their birthday. Aro is a gifted writer and he makes sure to capture all the things that he admires about his mate. Which is pretty much everything. Seriously, he can barely name anything he doesn't like.

The entire day is planned carefully by Aro and he intends to go through with his plan unless something absolutely crucial needs his attention. In that case, he promises his mate that he'll make up for being away.

Aro will ask them to dance with him to their favorite songs. Whatever the song may be, he would find a way to dance with them.

It brings him great joy when he sees how his mate has so much fun. Especially if they are holding his hand while doing so. Aro loves it when he can bury himself in their mind.

When the day is coming to an end, he takes them to stargaze outside of Volterra, somewhere not that affected by light pollution. They both would look at the stars and hold hands while doing so. Aro would whisper sweet nothings in their ear, possibly slipping into other languages while doing so.

His mate can definitely say that their birthday was amazing, if not the best birthday they ever had.

Emperor Belos:

When it comes to Belos and celebrating birthdays, he actually prefers to not have a grand party for his beloved. He just thinks it would serve no reason and a private dinner or something similar means far more than anything else.

That being said, he is actually... hardly torn away from doing his Emperor duties. He must prepare for the Day of Unity after all. But after enough begging, he decides to humor his partner for a while.

I'm not saying that he didn't get them gifts, because of course he did. Belos is the type of person to hand-craft presents instead of buying them. He just feels it's far more personal that way.

Belos being the old fashioned man that he is, he writes them a heartfelt letter. As heartfelt as Belos can be of course. He would reminescence of their first date and the moment Belos realised he loved them.

Somehow the entire castle found out of their birthday, so the s/o can expect getting birthday wishes from most of the guards. Some (like Lilith, Kikimora and Hunter) even give them presents. Lilith and Kikimora just want to suck up to Belos of course, but Hunter's is more personal. After all, it's his uncle's lover.

As much as Belos denies it, he loves having matching things. So his beloved would get something for their birthday that matches something he owns. Perhaps it's a gadget he uses often, or a piece of clothing that he loves; he would get them something similar.

This day is the ONLY day he would allow them to wear his emperor outfit. Belos would watch them try to imitate him and would laugh along. After the day is over though, he makes sure to tell his s/o that they got their emperor-outfit-wearing priviledges revoked.

Obviously Belos knows everything on the Boiling Isles, which means that he knows all of the secret places that are just absolutely mesmerizing. He might just surprise his beloved with a trip to one of these places.

I believe at night, once the both of them are in bed, Belos would share some of his fond memories. That is probably the most sentimental his s/o had ever seen him. It's sort of a birthday present of sorts I suppose.

Now, if his lover REALLY wanted to have a big party, he might be convinced. He would use that to manipulate the Isles into believing that he is a kind man, but he would also just want to make his beloved happy. Belos is just a tiny bit twisted like that.

Absolutely the type of man who would ask for their s/o's hand in marriage on their birthday. I can just totally see that happen.

Elrond:

Oh Elrond, beautiful Elrond.

Now birthdays are a bit questionable for elves as well since... well, they are immortal. But, whenever Elrond and his beloved would celebrate their birthday, the elven Lord would make sure to make it unforgettable.

Elrond plans the whole day of course (if his s/o agrees into the planning).

First, they would wake up and receive breakfast in bed. Elrond would stay with them the whole time, smiling down at them as they eat. After that he takes them on a walk in the gardens where they would talk for hours.

If someone happens to "accidentally" play some music in the distance, Elrond would ask his lover on a dance. They would talk while doing so and laugh along when they accidentally trip and fall in the grass.

After the walk in the gardens, Elrond takes his s/o back to the main halls and leads them to a room that is decorated just for them. There awaits them Elladan, Elrohir, and Arwen with smiles on their faces. All of them would give Elrond's beloved a gift while the Lord waits patiently.

Elrond's gift wouldn't be too grand but it would be meaningful. Most likely it is something he made with his own hands. Like if his beloved wears jewellery, he would make them something out of their preferred materials. Since courting is taken very seriously for elves, I believe they wouldn't commision anyone for a piece like that like humans would. The elves make important gifts themselves as it's more meaningful that way.

After a joyful lunch with music involved, Elrond brings his s/o outside to celebrate with the rest of Rivendell. It's a very carefree party where the elves play music and dance around with or without the s/o.

Once nighttime comes around, Elrond will get them away from the party and bring them to a clearing where they can watch the stars in peace. The stars are very important in an elf's life, so why not spend the last hours of their birthday looking at them.

Elrond would tell his beloved how much he loves them while in the comfort of the stars. He would also describe their relationship using great many metaphors.

At the end of their birthday, they walk back to the party and dance the night away.

Shadow Weaver:

We all know how Shadow Weaver loves gardening, right? Well, she would obviously put together a lovely bouqet for her s/o. It consits of their favorite flowers, or if they don't have any, flower in their favorite colors.

Shadow Weaver would wake her lover up by gently caressing their face and wishing them happy birthday once they open their eyes. After that she let's them eat breakfast before giving them the bouqet. It has a little note attached to it that is enchanted so it sparks little fireworks once it's opened.

Now, the sorceress is actually not that sure how to act in this situation because, let's be real, she did not partake in many relationships before. So her s/o will have to excuse if she's being a bit awkward.

She would get her beloved a cake, as suggested by Glimmer. It would be their favorite flavor and most likely would have frosting that is their favorite color.

Because Shadow Weaver is not very big on letting her feelings show, she wouldn't really give her s/o a speech about how much she loves them but she would try to write some of her feelings out in a form of a letter.

Once the s/o is ready, she will take them to her garden that is decorated just for them. It's more colorful than usual, but it still stays in the theme of the sorceress' taste.

Shadow Weaver would then lead them to a table that is decorated by candles. They would drink tea or something her beloved likes while talking. While outside, some residents of the castle would walk by to wish them happy birthday, especially Glimmer.

Once they're done with the little tea party, Shadow Weaver takes them out to a clearing in the Whispering Woods. There she reveals a picnic set up just for her s/o. While sitting and eating, Shadow Weaver finally gives them their present. It's something very personal.

The rest of the day consists of Shadow Weaver and her beloved watching the sunset and enjoying their picnic.

Thranduil:

Once again, the elves are a bit different about birthdays but Thranduil sure does throw a big party. Wine for the whole realm and dancing all night.

But before he gets to that, he makes sure that this day is the best day his s/o has ever had.

Thranduil wakes his beloved up by whispering to them and wishing them happy birthday. He let's them have breakfast in bed, while he eats beside them. After the breakfast he gives the plates to a servant while they stay in bed for some more quality time.

When they finally get up, Thranduil takes them on a stroll in the garden. They walk around, simply talking. Once they found a place where they could sit down, Thranduil gives them their first gift. It's a very personal gift that he made himself (much like Elrond).

While his s/o is looking at the gift, Thranduil whispers in their ear in elvish, explaining just how much he loves them. They stay there for some time before heading back to the palace.

Legolas would wish them happy birthday of course. If he likes them enough, he might make them a little carving of sorts and give it to them.

Thranduil showers his beloved in other types of presents as well. If they like wearing jewellery, he would get them something that matches his. Perhaps his s/o would like another sword? Something that fits them perfectly but also just so happens that matches Thranduil's weapon?

Once Thranduil and his lover had finished with the gift giving, he takes them to the dining room where an exquisite lunch/dinner is prepared for them. Some elves are playing music while they eat.

When they finish, they go to celebrate with the rest of the realm. Thranduil opens up the wine barrels for everyone to drink and all of the elves dance around while singing songs.

The Elvenking obviously would ask to dance with his s/o while most likely already drunk. His partner can also expect to hear a speech from him that is adressed to the entire realm. He talkes about how important his beloved is and expects everyone to respect them as such.

If his lover is more anxious, then he swoops them away from the party to dance alone in a more secluded area. After all, he only wants them to feel great on their birthday.

The day most likely ends with the drunk couple entering their chambers and laughing as they fall on their bed. Alternatively, if his lover isn't one to drink, Thranduil still gets pretty drunk and his s/o can deal with a far more affectionate King.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

I read your rewrite of Chapter 2 (which was great, by the way) and would like to clarify some things. Of course, you wrote that the fixes were just you exploring possibilities, so you don't need to justify anything if you don't want to. 1. How would Leona join the investigation? Correct me if I am wrong, but Leona didn't seem to know about Yuu and co. until Riddle and Qater confronted Ruggie. For him to know about them so soon, someone (like an injured Savanaclaw student or a Savanaclaw student who overheard Yuu and co. questioning others) would need to let him know. Even then, would he be able to join without looking suspicious? 2. How does Leona plan to frame Diasomnia and get it to stick? He can point fingers all he wants and use the circumstantial evidence they gather to prove it, but Diasomnia has no reason to sabotage others when they have Malleus. Leona would most likely be aware of Crowley's biases, so is he just hoping casting enough suspicion would force Crowley's hand? Does he intend to convince students from other dorms to demand their disqualification despite the lack of motive?

[Referencing this post!]

Wow, people are still reading that?? 😭

As I said in the original post, my book 2 rewrite was more of a compilation of shower thoughts without much care given to fleshing out the finer details. It is by no means perfect, nor is it meant to cover everything.

There’s enough wiggle room left for various different interpretations using my book 2 rewrite as a basis. It’s meant to be flexible!

Just for fun, here are my thoughts:

To your first point, I don’t think Leona would come off as suspicious if his introduction was framed a certain way (which I’m sure he could plan around). Yuu and co. would be investigating all the dorms (since they’re all suspects), which includes Savanaclaw students. Leona could easily hear it from Savanaclaw mobs and then reintroduce himself to the group, claiming he also wants in on the investigation to seek justice for his injured students. Since Riddle is already investigating with Yuu, Leona could easily use that to distract from his true intentions. He would come off as just another pissed dorm leader trying to stand up for and avenge his dorm members. (And if we really want to get technical, we could reason the other dorm leaders are not getting involved due to other reasons, like Azul being busy with the inter-dorm event organization, Jamil not trusting anyone with Kalim but himself, Vil preoccupied with his professional gigs, Idia being Idia, and no one knowing where the heck Malleus has wandered off to now.)

To your second point, I think Leona definitely has the capacity to trick/manipulate other students into believing Diasomnia is responsible. He could set up situations which incriminate certain Diasomnia students (based on their unique skillsets), then leave the other dorms’ students to come to their own (false) conclusions based on that. Obviously, it would look too suspicious if he and Savanaclaw students are the only ones pointing fingers, so he has to convince the others to parrot the rhetoric he wants them to. If it was done this way, we achieve many things: 1) Leona comes off as way more intelligent than in the original book 2, 2) it sets up more parallels between him and Jamil (who also tried to get a lot of people to side with him under false pretenses to convince someone of higher authority to change their mind) for delicious book 6 payoff, and 3) it adds to the sense of betrayal the other students experience at the end when it turns out Leona deceived them.

Something I feel that the main story fails to do well is to define the rivalries between each dorm. It’s only mentioned a few times off-handedly, like how Octavinelle and Scarabia students are intelligent and are thus always neck and neck in terms of grades. In my revised book 2, an opportunity arises to utilize this untapped potential. Think about it: what if the other dorm members are more likely to suspect Diasomnia because the main story calls more attention to how the dorms do NOT get along with each other?? Diasomnia is described to us as a place where skilled all-around mages go, and this has resulted in the Diasomnia students being more arrogant than your average NRC student (which by itself is already very arrogant). From that point of view, it’s not too hard to believe that the other students could think Diasomnia is injuring other students “just because they can”. They’ve grown too arrogant and think they can get away with doing whatever they want because they won’t face the consequences of their actions. (Malleus himself is THE poster child of that across multiple events and vignettes too.) There doesn’t necessarily need to be a motive in the traditional sense; people could suspect that Diasomnia has gotten too high and mighty, so they are conceited and feel entitled to doing whatever the hell they want. It would be a perfect way for Leona to weaponize the preexisting animosity and pride of the NRC students against them. The injured students would then feel slighted because Diasomnia are being held up as the metaphorical “golden children” (despite their theoretical unethical behavior) while their suffering is looked over. These feelings ironically also parallel how Scar feels cheated of the throne because of his careless older brother and son, or even how the hyenas are not seen as part of the Pridelands.

[cirilla-fiona-riannon]

Beauty & the Beast's Christmas

This is simply a fan translation and is not intended as a replacement for the game. Expect grammatical errors. Not proofread.

Gilbert von Obsidian's story (JP) from the last collection event.

~ I'd love to give you a Christmas gift, and yet ~

On Christmas night, everything outside the window was covered in pure white snow.

Gilbert: “Here, this is my Christmas gift for you.”

Suddenly, Gilbert hugged me from behind and attached a brooch to the neckline of my dress.

Gilbert: “I tried to make it with you in mind.”

Emma: “Wow, thank you! It’s so cute.”

The brooch, depicting a baby rabbit with colorful gems, was delicately crafted and beautiful.

Although I should have been happy about it, I’m currently preoccupied with something else.

(I haven’t prepared a gift for him. What should I do?)

Gilbert: “Hm? Why the long face? Aren’t you happy?”

Emma: “I’m happy! But I haven’t prepared anything for you.”

Gilbert: “Oh, so you were worried about that after all.”

Emma: “It’s not like that. I wanted to go shopping, but you forbade me from going out.”

Gilbert: “I can’t let you go to a crowded city right before Christmas.”

Gilbert: “Unless you don’t mind me being jealous.”

(He’s saying things like that again.)

(It feels unfair that he’s the only one giving a gift.)

Emma: “I also wanted to give you a gift since Christmas only comes once a year.”

(Is there anything I can at least prepare?)

(I’ve already made a Christmas cake, but it doesn’t feel special enough to call it a gift.)

Emma: “I got it! Gil, I’m going back to my room to write a letter.”

(I get the feeling that he's the kind of person who treasures even old letters.)

(I'm sure he'll accept it.)

Gilbert's red eyes lit up with happiness all of a sudden.

Gilbert: "You're going to write me a letter?"

Emma: "Yes! I'll write it quickly and bring it to you."

Gilbert: "What are you talking about? You can write it here."

Emma: "What? Write it here now?"

Gilbert: "Yes, right here, right now."

(It's way too embarrassing to write a letter in front of the person you're sending it to!)

He smiled and quickly prepared a piece of paper and a quill.

(He closed off any escape route in an instant!)

Reluctantly sitting in front of the desk, I gripped the quill, and he stood close behind me.

Emma: "Um, it's hard to write with you staring at me like that."

Gilbert: "It's okay. Just pretend I'm not here and write."

Emma: "It's not that easy..."

Despite my protest, it was clear that he wouldn't listen, so I mustered the courage to write.

("Dear Gilbert...")

Gilbert: "Isn't it supposed to be 'To my beloved Gilbert'?"

(Ugh...)

With every sentence I wrote, he interjected with advice or suggestions.

Gilbert: "Hey, what's wrong? Your pen stopped."

Gilbert: "How about writing more about the things you love about me or using words of love?"

(That's impossible. It's too embarrassing!)

Emma: "Doing that in front of you is just too much!"

Gilbert: "Oh, little rabbit is so shy. Should I make it less embarrassing for you?"

Emma: "Are you going to move away from me?"

I turned my head in anticipation, only to have my lips captured in a sudden kiss.

His tongue stirred my mouth passionately, igniting a warm sensation throughout my body.

Gilbert: "See? Now, it's not embarrassing anymore. But your hand has stopped, so hurry up and write."

Emma: "I really can't do this!"

(I’m even more embarrassed than I was earlier!)

Gilbert: “You’re going to give me a present, right? I’m really looking forward to it, so do your best.”

Emma: “If that’s the case, please don’t tease me.”

Gilbert: “Ahaha! Ordering me around, huh? Emma, you’re quite fearless.”

He laughed and slowly bit my earlobe, causing me to squirm.

Then he opened the collar of my dress and bit my shoulder.

Emma: “Gil, writing it down is pretty difficult, so I’m just gonna say it in words.”

Gilbert: “No. I like letters. So, come on, write until the end.”

Gilbert: “While you write the letter, I’ll tell you words of love.”

Gilbert: “Fufu. I love how even when you’re in a bind and at a loss, you still won’t let go of the pen.”

Emma: “You’re so unfair.”

(No matter how many words I write, Gilbert always manages to surpass them.)

(But I can’t lose. Right now, I want to convey all the overflowing love in my heart to him.)

I continued to express my feelings for my beloved in a letter while accepting the unstoppable sweet evil.

➟ Ikepri Translation Masterlist

[sanguineterrain]

about first place | eddie munson

hey guys remember when i wrote for stranger things? lol.

so this is another installment of my about a boy series. you don't have to read them to understand this fic, but idk, you might like those too! check them out if you feel like :)

Summary: Eddie asks you to change plans. You spiral.

Pairing: Eddie Munson x gn!reader

Word count: 1.6k

Warnings/tags: intrusive (violent and one self-harm) thoughts, self deprecating thoughts, reader spirals, eddie is hurtful (by accident) to the reader, but they communicate and it's resolved. reader feels like they are cast aside and there is trauma behind that feeling. reader is sensitive to rejection and has trouble communicating.

my fics aren't intended to be used as models for perfect communication or anything like that HOWEVER this fic is intended to be a story about communication and building trust and navigating a partner's trauma. if these topics are triggering to you, DO NOT READ.

if you enjoy this, please let me know through reblogs (and a comment, if you feel like!)

divider by firefly-graphics | i reblog all fics to @sanguinelibrary

Fridays are dinner nights with Eddie. Sometimes you do them on Saturday, but usually, every week, you two have dinner. It hasn’t gone on for very long; you’ve only just begun to feel comfortable eating in front of Eddie. But you like it. Sometimes Wayne joins you two. It feels like you have a home.

And after every dinner, you confirm with Eddie that he'll come over next week too. People like when you confirm plans in advance. You like when people confirm plans and keep their commitments. 

You like that Eddie comes over. You like that he wants to come over. 

The phone rings. You put down the wooden spoon and answer. 

"Hello?"

"Hey, sweet thing!" Eddie says. "Hey, so, I'm at Gareth's place right now, and our campaign is running long. It's so good, babe, I just created this new storyline and everybody loves it! Wheeler even said she might join next week. Am I a genius or what?"

You smile. "You're a genius, Eds. Nancy appreciates a good story; I’m not surprised you wowed her.”

"Aw, you flatter me, sweet thing. So, uh, I know I'm supposed to come over for dinner, but would it be okay if I took a rain check? Only because…"

You don't hear the rest of the sentence. The only thing that rings in your ears is rain check. Eddie's canceling. Eddie's sick of you. 

"...Is that alright?" he finally asks. "I'll take you out to dinner tomorrow." 

Your chest constricts. Eddie's expecting agreeability. He's expecting your acquiescence to the fact that he's sick of you. 

"Sure," you say tightly. 

There's a pause. Then, "So, I’ll swing by tomorrow?"

"No." You haven't prepared to interact with people tomorrow, you prepared for today. And tonight was planned a week in advance, but Eddie wants to change plans. Eddie cares more about Hellfire than spending time with you. 

Eddie is just like the rest of them.

"How ‘bout Monday? Or later next week? I wanna spend time with you, sweet thing."

Your throat feels tight. You need to end the conversation now or your guts will unspool all over the floor and Eddie will hear you try to stuff them back into your stomach. 

"It's fine. We don't need to reschedule. Bye."

You hang up. Immediately, your stomach hurts. Why should you feel guilty? Eddie abandoned plans that you made a week ago for his other friends. Eddie doesn't care about you. That's always how it goes. People hurt you and they don't care, and then you're the one who feels guilty for hanging up on them. 

Thoughts of Eddie crashing his van or Eddie getting struck by lightning flash unbidden into your mind and your stomach ache gets worse. What the fuck is wrong with you? Why would you think those things? You don't want that to happen to Eddie. You love Eddie, even though you were bound to eat too much love and get a stomach ache. 

You feel like doing something that would make your mother mad at you. You feel like digging your nails into the bathroom tile grout and scraping until you see the sun. You feel like carving scars into the kitchen table. 

Goddammit, you need to stop the bad thoughts. Think good thoughts. Think thoughts normal people have. Pretend you're normal. Pretend you're loved. 

You look at the pot of boiling water. Would Eddie come over if you stuck your hand in?

No, God, what's wrong with you? You fucking psycho. This is why no one keeps their plans with you! Eddie's job isn't to take care of you, to hold your hand and pet your hair and tell you he's happy to be here with you. 

You're wrong, you were born wrong, and that's your problem, not his. That's why he's gone. That's why everybody leaves. 

Knock knock. 

You look at the door, spooked. Did someone hear your thoughts? Are they finally here to take you away? 

"Sweet thing, you there? Can I please come in?"

If you let Eddie in, you'll have to tell him it's okay, and your guts will be there for him to see because you haven't cleaned them up yet, and he'll know you've been crying over him even though he called first which is more than you've ever been given before, and your stomach ache will triple and and and—

"It's open," you say. 

Eddie comes in. Your face is impenetrable. Stone. No, concrete. No, obsidian. Your face is obsidian, and Eddie's got a plastic hammer. You'll win and you can scoop up your guts later. 

"Hey," Eddie says softly. "Hey, sweetheart."

You take a step back. This is a trick.

"Why aren't you with your friends?" you ask, crossing your arms.

Eddie winces. "I’m sorry, baby. That was a mistake. I realized that after we hung up. I shouldn't have tried to reschedule. You and I made plans, and they're important to me. I ended the game—we're gonna meet next week." 

"You can go. I don't care."

Eddie's mouth flattens. You've hurt his feelings, but he hurt yours first, but you don't want to hurt his at all, but but but—

"I'm sorry I hurt you," Eddie says. "I don't want to reschedule or ditch our plans. I wanna spend time with you, I do."

"I don't want you here," you say. "I want you to leave, Eddie. I don't forgive you."

Eddie's face crumples. But he nods. "Okay, baby. I-I'll leave if you want me to go. I respect your space. You don't have to forgive me right now." 

Oh no. Eddie came prepared. Eddie has a diamond-tipped drill. 

"I'm never first," you blurt.

Eddie tilts his head. "What do you mean?"

He's still gentle. He's still here. Even though you didn't forgive him. Even though you're mad at him. Even though you'll never be normal. He's listening anyway. 

"No one puts me first. You did, but then you didn't tonight, even though I made plans enough time in advance. A week is enough time. People are supposed to stick to plans when you ask them a week ahead. It's my fault when I don't give them enough time, and it makes sense when they don't want to spend time with me then, but this time it wasn't my fault. You're supposed to decide you don't like me before this point. It hurts less when you decide earlier." 

Your chest heaves. Eddie's stepping all over your guts. He tracks them across the carpet as he gets closer. You watch the bloody intestine footprints slop behind him. 

"But you said yes. But then you wanted out. I'm never—I'm never first."

Eddie's face splinters further. "Oh, sweetheart—"

You wipe your eyes, pulling the skin hard. 

"I do like you," he says, and your sob breaks. "I do. Nothing'll make me stop liking you. And I love you still. I didn't ask that because I don't like you. It-it doesn't matter why I asked, but avoiding you wasn't the reason. It was a thoughtless thing I did. I thought you wouldn't mind, but you do, and that's okay. That's valid. I want you to tell me that. I want you to say, "Eddie, you dummy, I love ya, but let's keep our plans," and I'll come home."

"You didn't want to," you say, and cry harder. 

"No, baby, it's not like that at all. I wanted to do both, I like the idea of both. I always enjoy spending time with you. I thought maybe since we do this regularly, you wouldn't mind something different too."

You're overreacting. You're scary. This is wrong. This isn't how norm—fucking fuck that word! 

"I'm sorry," you blubber, quivering in place. 

Your legs feel weak. You lean against the counter for support.

Eddie shakes his head. He's a foot away. 

"What're you apologizing for, baby? You don't have to apologize. I hurt you, not the other way around."

"I'm guilty," you say, crying into your hands. "I'm guilty too. I thought bad thoughts. I didn't mean to, but I did, and now you're here, but I want you to be here because you want to be, not because I… I…"

"Is it okay if I touch you?" 

You nod, and Eddie's arms slide around you. Every time he hugs you, you're certain you won't fit together. But you always do. 

"It's okay if you thought bad thoughts," Eddie says into your ear. You feel his voice vibrate through your chest. "You're not your thoughts. And it's okay if some of those thoughts were because you were hurting from what I said. I’m really sorry, sweet thing. I have angry thoughts too, sometimes. But that's all they are. Just thoughts. Just noise. They don't make you bad. You're good. So, so good."

You wrap your arms around Eddie's neck and hug hard. He squeezes you back just as tightly. The pressure feels good. 

"I w-want you to hang out with friends, but I want you to k-keep our plans first," you say, and then brace yourself. You take great, big, shuddering breaths. 

"That is a very reasonable ask, my love. I’ll do that from now on. And how 'bout if we want to change plans, we'll ask at least three days in advance? Is that fair?”

You nod against his shoulder. You stay like that, Eddie rubbing circles on your back. His curls tickle your wet cheek.

"Sorry I ruined it," you say. 

"No, no, you didn't ruin anything. I made a mistake and we're learning how to communicate better. We’re learning.”

"I was scary."

"I don't think so, baby." 

You're quiet for a moment. "I want you to stay and eat with me."

He squeezes your arm. "I would love nothing more, sweet thing." 

You take the colander out of the cabinet. Eddie pushes your guts back into your stomach. No one's ever done that for you.

Perhaps you are loved. No pretending necessary. 

[starsandhughes]

Penalty Box— Trevor’s Birthday Edition

SERIES MASTERLIST

ya’ll asked for special editions, and what better way to start these than on trevor zegras day?

yourusername

liked by trevorzegras, jamie.drysdale, and 9,744 others

yourusername happy birthday to my entire heart, entire soul, and entire world. trevor, you have brought out the best parts of me and have turned me into the person i am today. you make every moment worth more than all the gold in the world, and i love spending all my moments with you.

everything you do is inspiring. they say you’re a magician on the ice, but to me you’re so much more. there isn’t a word in the english language to describe my love for you. the word “love” itself simply isn’t enough to capture how enamored i am with you.

i don’t know the girl i used to be without you, and i know i’ll never have to meet her again. you’re my everything, trevor zegras, and i wouldn’t have it any other way.

i love you always, z🧡

tagged trevorzegras

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trevorzegras i love you forever🧡 you’re a poet, my sweet girl. a poet who completes me <3

yourusername when is it appropriate to go back to my joking self?

trevorzegras now

yourusername SAP

trevorzegras there’s my girl

user1 THIS IS SO CUTE I’M CRYING

jamie.drysdale @/trevorzegras you can have my wife today as a birthday present and because her caption was gaggingly addorable

trevorzegras wow that’s a big deal thank you

jamie.drysdale you’re so welcome

yourusername when he’s a giver>>>

user2 i used to think y/n was the lucky one, but it’s definitely z. happy birthday!

jackhughes you two are so whipped for each other it’s disgusting. happy birthday, z! love you lots (forever)!

trevorzegras thanks man😂 i love you too (always)!

yourusername that is not the comment i wrote for you

jackhughes mine came from the heart

yourusername mine did too, hughes!

jackhughes mine came from MY heart!

trevorzegras i felt the love rowdy it’s okay😂

user3 PARENTS

_quinnhughes i’ll admit it, you two might be perfect for each other. happy birthday, z! take good care of my best friend. love you!

trevorzegras thanks man i love you too! and i intend to take good care of her forever

yourusername brb having war flashbacks to z asking you permission to ask me out

jamie.drysdale i didn’t know that thank you for that information it’s amazing

colecaufield happy birthday to my second favorite person in this relationship! love you man! next time let’s not watch all three hunger games movies at the living room sleepover

trevorzegras y/n being happy is my greatest gift and those movies make her happy, sue me. and i love you too! thank you!

jackhughes we get it you’re in love🤮

user4 happy birthday nhl poster boy ilysm

_alexturcotte happy birthday! can’t wait to see you tonight! love you, man!

trevorzegras love you, too, turcs!

yourusername simple and effective! gj turc

lhughes_06 always betting on you, z! happy birthday!

trevorzegras this is why you’re my favorite hughes, thank you!

yourusername the hunger games reference opportunity was RIGHT THERE and you MISSED IT

lhughes_06 i’m still betting on you, boy on fire?

yourusername good boy

lhughes_06 thanks mom!

jamie.drysdale @/yourusername when did we adopt this one?

yourusername @/jamie.drysdale he’s from my first marriage

user5 z takes a lot of penalties, but y/n is his game winning goal. happy birthday!

trevorzegras she’s my stanley cup

yourusername brb crying

[mystwrites]

I'M BACK HELLO :D the lee tanizaki thing you wrote was so cute, i have to request another fic 🖤

this time hmm- could you maybe do lee geto and ler gojo with 💃 and 🥥: "oh come on, loosen up a little!" please?

again, no worries at all if this doesn't speak to you or you don't wanna write it for whatever reason, i hope you're having the loveliest day 🖤🖤

My 200 Followers Event will close in 7 days!

“Oh sweet!! I love this song!!” Gojo cried, jumping out of his seat and starting to dance. “C’mon Suguru! I need a dance partner!”

“No thanks. I like watching you dance.” Geto replied, amazed at the moves Gojo had. “Damn dude! Since when could you move like that?”

“What do you mean? I always had these killer moves!” Gojo shot back, wiggling his arms.

Geto snickered as he watched his best friend do the most ridiculous dance moves. Maybe blasting music in the dorm at this hour was a bad idea but he didn’t care. As long as Gojo was being silly, he’d willingly suffer the whack to the head Yaga would give them.

“Suguru! C’mon!” Gojo urged, doing the moonwalk over to him. “Dancing is so much fun! I need a partner!”

Geto laughed, watching as Gojo tried to go up onto his toes and do the Michael Jackson classic pose. “Sorry man, I don’t have the same…slick moves as you.” he replied, laughing harder as Gojo fell over holding his feet. “And you know you’re no ballerina, Satoru.”

Gojo frowned and stood up, continuing to dance as he approached Geto. Now slightly nervous, Geto scooted back until he felt his back press up against the wall. That specific look Gojo got when he intended to stir up some trouble was present.

“Suguru.~” Gojo purred, yanking Geto up and spinning him.

“Hey! Dude, cut it out! I don’t wanna dance!” Geto squeaked, finding himself dipped and Gojo’s hand supporting his lower back. “Okay, you’re on thin ice, Satoru. Let me go!”

“Oh come on! Loosen up a little!” the white haired teen chuckled, pulling him back up only to poke his sides. “Plus, it’s just the two of us. Shoko and the others can’t tease us.~”

“S-still!” Geto argued, a wide grin on his face. “The music is too loud! Turn it down! We might get in trouble! I’m not even supposed to be in your dorm after the last incide-AAAHA! Oh my gohohosh, dude! Knohohock it off!!”

Knowing this would get a reaction from the dark haired teen, Gojo continued to poke his sides. A slight blush formed on Geto’s cheeks and when Gojo lobster pinched his sides, Geto jerked away. The funniest part was that he jerked away at the exact moment the beat dropped, Gojo dancing as he sauntered over to give him another jab to the tummy.

Gojo only followed his every move, poking, prodding and squeezing the ticklish spots he had memorized. He knew that Geto would break down and submit. It was just a matter of consistently poking Geto’s weak spots.

“There we go!” Gojo exclaimed, continuing to tickle his best friend and watch him dance around to avoid him. “But now actually move to the beat of the song, you silly goose! Let loose! Hey that rhymes!”

Geto jumped around the room, trying his best to avoid Gojo’s tickling fingers. “Ihihit was a shitty rhyme! HEY! No!!”

It became a little tango, Geto laughing and trying to stay away while Gojo tried to get as close as possible to him. After a few more minutes of forcing Geto to move to the beat of the song, Gojo decided that was enough and tackled him to the floor, the two a pile of flailing limbs.

“Hey! Dahahammit Satoru!!” Geto growled, raising his hand in an attempt to bonk his friend on the head playfully. “You’re reheheally getting on my last ne-AAAAHAHAHA!! QUIT IT YOU AHAHAHASS!! SHOKOOOOOO!! HEHEHELP!!!”

“Wow! Calling me names now, Suguru?~” Gojo teased, pressing his cheek against Geto’s. “I’m hurt! I thought you loved me more than you loved Shoko!”

“IHIHI TAHAHAKE IT BAHACK!! MY LOVE FOHOHOR YOU HAHAHAS BEEHEHEHEEN REVOKED!! AHAHAHAA!!” Geto spat, slapping at Gojo’s wandering fingers.

“Oh hell no! That won’t happen! I’m gonna tickle you until you take it back and say that you love me!”

“YOU AHAHARE A PAIN IN THE AHAHASS, SATORUUUHUHUHU!!” Geto cried, finally submitting to the tickles.

Gojo snickered as he drilled his thumbs into the dips of Geto’s hips. Screw dancing, getting Geto to dance was a lost cause from the start. Maybe all Gojo wanted was to hear his best friend’s incredible laugh.

And maybe, just maybe, Geto enjoyed the silliness as well.

A/N: Thanks for another great request Rey! I hope you enjoyed some Gojo and Geto silliness😆

[demonslayedher]

Links, why started, and why abandoned:

Rengoku+Akaza Sitcom: It was very silly and rereading it still makes me laugh. I've had passing ideas here and there and have made two separate attempts to continue it, but I haven't captured the same flow. Kyojuro's efforts to get me fired as the lead writer and keep this sitcom canceled have so far panned out.

Low-Key Married AU: When I look at the notes sometimes I am like, "wow, this must be my most popular AU, but it is such a mess and I feel so bad for people trying to follow it." I got as far as The Nezuko Incident, but it was already super long, and rather than being engaging it felt more like it was just trying to give chronology to this AU. ZenNezu Angst (no link): I was in such an indulgent, angsty mood when I wrote it, and I wrote myself into an angsty hole. It was whump with an intended happy ending but by the time I went back to it I was not in as whumpy of a mood and I had forgotten how I was going to build up to the intended happy ending and found it meh. Also, I am embarrassed by how whumpy it is and even considered publishing under a different name.

Raw Sword Production: I want so badly for the fandom to appreciate the intricacies of Japanese sword production, which is why I put it into fiction format in the first place with Teppi being the vehicle through which readers can learn a complicated but fascinating process. I wound up learning a lot more since publishing that, and wanted to fix some details, as well as make it clearer with more illustrations, and add on the full process of smithing (instead of glossing over it in the conclusion and focusing most of the smelting). Got to about the point of polishing (one of the last steps), felt overwhelmed by the amount of illustration it would benefit from to be clear, and lost confidence feeling that even with all that effort, there probably would not be many people who read all the way to the end. Filler Arc w/ Character Beats: I still really like the ideas, have had ideas for how to expand it to a proper flow and make a solid story out of it, it had a very cute start, but I lost steam. I want Ufotable to make it instead and just let me direct. EDIT: So far it doesn't seem this one is going to win the poll, so I reread what 5577 words I had, and gosh dang it, it was cute. So I have posted it.

Again, zero promises of any of these projects getting more attention, even if they win the poll. But knowing what people would enjoy reading might provide more inspiration. EDIT: Guys, if you want "other," ya gotta tell me which one! Also, if you want more than one, feel free to say so too. Again, the point is to see if I can work up the inspiration to finish. If.