#<- there it has a tag now. i sincerely hope this doesn't end up in any wrong tags

[zrrv]

it's just me and my twelve page long google doc for this au against the world. and these doodles i guess

[kiyo-cant-write]

Welp, I'm kinda back to request the guy again(y'know the RSA Silver anon). Tho you can call me as 🎵 anon. Thanks tho.

So I kinda have some little new idea pop in my head, I got the idea when I read some old scenarios. About Silver and Sebek, having a crush on Yuu. Then tries to fight over Yuu's attention. Just imagine they fight over Yuu and Yuu accidentally getting squish between their chest I mean check their PE uniform card, while they get too busy having a staring competition to notice Yuu got squish. Yuu intensely blushing, probably almost fainting

I hope you don't mind this.

silver and sebek fighting "over" yuu/reader ✧･ﾟ

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Name change initiated, tags updated.

Hello! I don't mind this! I like Silver and the rest of Diasomnia (though my personal bias is Malleus xD) And I hope I interpreted your idea well! My sincere apologies for taking a longer time to get this out, my health is not doing well at the moment.

Note to anyone looking to request that I currently have a very big request for all the first years in the works and it is taking me some time to complete. That said, requests will be slow to go out but are open, actually.

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Summary:��[Name] is swept up in an argument between Silver and Sebek Zigvolt during flight class. Were they always this built?

TW/CW: None

Notes: pre-relationship, the reader is described as smaller than Sebek/Silver, the reader is the Ramshackle Prefect/Yuu, they/them pronouns for the reader

Guest Stars: Grim, Malleus Draconia (mentioned)

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✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:

Silver & Sebek Zigvolt

Silver did not plan to be in the argument in the first place.

He isn't a very confrontational personality to begin with.

That, and his father raised him better (or he says that).

And meanwhile, Sebek is just Sebek-ing, that's how it starts.

The argument doesn't begin with Malleus but it's sure about Malleus now and Silver kind of wants to punch Sebek.

Sebek throws the first punch and Silver is defending himself.

The two of them are airheads sometimes and forget they're in a joint class and there are people everywhere.

[Name] is smaller than the two of them and ends up caught between them but neither of them cares to notice.

[Full Name] you are about to experience being smooshed between two guys who have trained as guards since childhood.

Sebek is still more or less yelling.

Silver effectively politely conveys "Shut the fuck up."

[Name] and the other students are BAFFLED.

It seemed that it would be a while before this is resolved...

Silver is the one to point out this is a ... position.

Sebek gets offended that Silver is protecting [Name].

But why? WHAT IS THIS HUMAN DOING TO HIM?

Silver chooses to repress his feelings.

Trauma responses or something (Book 7 did things to me)

Then [Name] fainted and both boys began to p a n i c !!

"This is all your fault, Silver!"

"Sebek, be quiet."

Silver's expression might have seemed neutral to anyone in Vargas' PE class who was watching but Sebek recognized this type of expression from his childhood. Silver was glaring daggers at him from his group's area.

But! This was a fight and Sebek would win (for Malleus).

"HOW DARE YOU INSULT WAKA-SAMA?!??" Sebek roared, ignoring the class around him as all of his senses focused on that cat.

It would be good to note that while it was a "fight." it was a fight that Silver did not want to be in. How had it even begun? Silver wasn't sure. He was trying to talk to one of his classmates about something and then Sebek started yelling (really, who decided to let joint classes be with the first years?) and soon after, this had started.

"NYA! WHAT DID YOU SAY EYEBROWS?" Grim fired back at Sebek.

Raised by General Lilia Vanrouge, Silver has some quirks that others are quick to point out. He grew up in Briar Valley, after all. His "human skills" leave much to be desired. Still, Lilia instilled a sense of justice in Silver, and the knowledge that you should not say nasty things about others if they are your friends.

Silver sighed. This was why he decided to keep his thoughts on today's PE incident to himself. It would be better for everyone that way. But his emotions, the ones he tried to ignore, made things harder for him sometimes.

[Name] is being a bit daft, though. Why did they get involved?

As Sebek yelled at Grim, the cat jumped into his human half's arms and caused Sebek to, as he was trying to grab Grim, get much too close to the Prefect (for safety and for Silver to accept).

He sighed again as he took several steps over to the trio and attempted to intimidate Sebek away from [Name].

"Sebek, cease this at once. This is unbecoming," Silver told him, standing just behind the Prefect and staring Sebek down.

"Silver, stay out of this!" Sebek hissed at him, not realizing how close he was to the Prefect, "I need to finish this."

"Malleus-sama would not approve..." Silver continued slowly.

He took a step closer.

"I am doing this for his honor, that cat insulted him!!"

Sebek pushed closer and Silver couldn't mask his irritation. Sebek would not listen to Silver and the light-haired man knew this.

"Even if he did, you're much too close to [Name]," the second-year added.

As each boy moved closer, they had [Name] cornered.

"Are you insinuating that you have some kind of claim over this human?" Sebek asked, nearly scoffing as if insulted by the concept.

"No, I am saying you're too close to them. Be polite."

"Silver, you speak and act so boldly for someone taken in off the streets," Sebek told him, bringing up a longstanding issue between them.

He had to ignore this. It wasn't supposed to be something shared with others, that he was taken in by Lilia, that Lilia was his father.

"This isn't about that. You're being rude."

Silver had never wanted to punch Sebek more than he did at this moment.

Smushed between the two guards, [Name] held Grim close to their chest. They could spell the faint scent of flowers from Silver whereas Sebek smelled like tea. They were able to see now, up close and personally, that Malleus' guards were strong, built young men, not as lean as some of the other students at Night Raven.

A few moments passed as Silver and Sebek attempted to stare each other down, other students beginning to watch the interaction, waiting for a fight to break out. It was a miracle that Vargas did not notice the commotion but he was busy telling some poor student about his great and important very heroic deeds.

"... Grim, I think I am going to die," [Name] whispered to the cat.

Startled, Grim looked up at them with such a sudden motion he jostled their spot between Silver and Sebek slightly.

"Nya?? Don't die, [Name]!!"

But the Prefect could not hear them anymore, they were dead to the world for the foreseeable future. With a bright red face, they looked somewhere between embarrassed and feverish.

"Oh no. [Name], are you okay?"

Silver moved away from Sebek as the green-haired boy did the same. Sebek noticed the state of the Ramshackle Prefect instantly.

"AAH! THE HUMAN NEEDS MEDICAL ATTENTION!!" Sebek shouted

For a moment, Silver wished that Sebek had a volume button he could (politely) turn down. It would save everyone a lot of grief.

All of this attracted the attention of Vargas who shipped around and sprinted over to them, forgetting his discussion of heroism with that poor, poor unsuspecting student.

"Don't yell," Silver told Sebek as he noticed Vargas speeding in their direction, his voice sounding like a whisper in comparison to Sebek's yells.

"HAH? This is all your fault, Silver!"

"Sebek. I said... Quiet down."

Today would be a long day for everyone...

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Imagine the rest for yourself~

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✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:

Thank you for reading! Likes and reblogs are appreciated! Do NOT repost my writing/headcanons as your own >:c Check the top of my blog for the inbox status and read the rules before requesting. This is not a twst-only blog! ^^

[villainbait]

Moonlight Secrets

Pairing: Sylus x MC / fem!reader Rating: PG-13 Tags: MAJOR story spoilers, emotional hurt/comfort, hurt/comfort, romance, romantic overtures, angst, tension, secondhand embarrassment, grief mention, kissing, canon sylus behavior Summary: Sylus can't give you the answers you seek, but he can offer you the next best thing: a distraction from your grief. Word Count: 1.2k Alternate link: AO3

The brilliant, sunny day Linkon City offered might have felt warmer if you weren’t feeling so lonely watching everyone have picnics in the city park. It was on a lovely summer day like today where you, grandma, and Caleb used to pack up your own basket and make a trip to your favorite spot in this same park. That was before the accident. Now, you spend your afternoons ensuring the safety of Linkon’s citizens instead, and your only warmth is the memories you carry of those moments. 

Your phone rings, interrupting your thoughts. It’s Sylus and you think about not picking up but it might be important. He doesn’t bother with hello, but his unnerving way of greeting you doesn't disappoint. 

“Why do you look sad?” He asks, then chuckles when you don’t answer. “…Now you look angry.” 

“Who wouldn’t be angry knowing that they were being watched?” You huff in exasperation, but you’re not truly mad. You’d never admit it, but there was a strange comfort in knowing that Sylus was watching you more often than not. 

“If you don’t want to tell me,” Sylus drawled lazily. “Why don’t you tell me who that young, handsome, raven-haired doctor-” 

You cut him off, not wanting to answer that question even less than the first.

“I was sad about the people picnicking in the park, but I’m fine now.” 

“Why?” He doesn’t sound like he cares and maybe he doesn’t, but you answer him with sincerity anyway. 

“This is the time of the year I usually do–well, did stuff like that with Grandma and Caleb. You know, before…” You trail off, hoping he gets the hint. You don’t want to blame Sylus when you don’t actually know whether he was responsible or why it happened, but that doesn’t stop you from mourning what was lost and feeling frustrated he wouldn’t give you the answers you desperately seek. 

The silence on the other end of the line is heavy. 

“I see,” Sylus finally says quietly, if for nothing else than to fill that silence. You lean against the fence and look out over the park, watching as some kids tumble over each other to grab a runaway ball. Silence falls between you again and it was hard for you to fill it without sounding bitter so you didn’t. 

There was a soft clattering in the background on Sylus’s end of the line and he murmurs softly, “I have to go.” “Sure.” you answered just as quietly, and the line disconnects with neither of you saying goodbye or with well wishes of safety. You stare at his contact for a long time, your thoughts your own until a bouncy ball rolls into your boot. The kids come running over, laughing and tripping over each other in their haste to get to the ball first. You smile and kick the ball up into your hand. 

“Throw it back, lady!” One of them crows and they all hold their hands up ready to catch it. You do and can’t help but smile as they fight over it. 

With one last look around the park to ensure it was safe, you make your way back to headquarters, desperate for a distraction. 

You don’t find one, the place deserted. In fact, things were disgustingly quiet and while you are grateful, you also wish that you had something to do. With a sigh you leave for the day after writing your boring reports and go home. However, when you find yourself standing in front of your door, there’s a crimson envelope taped to it. 

Upon further inspection, It’s a map with a cleverly worded scavenger hunt written in a familiar scrawl. Sylus’s handwriting has become familiar to you and his elegant, almost dramatic style was outdated but endearing. The map was enough to pique your curiosity, so you change into something more casual and set out on the adventure awaiting you. It was better than wallowing in grief and self-pity all evening at home, anyway. 

After many twists, turns, and one lost apple later, you arrive at the marked spot on Whitesand beach just after dark with a picnic basket brimming with goodies. The moon hangs low in the sky, but the illuminating glow promises a full one tonight. Sylus had already arrived ahead of you, of course, and he was stretched out on a blanket, quietly scrolling through his phone. A bottle of wine and two glasses are all he brought besides himself. 

“You’re late, kitten.” he says without a hint of mercy. You want to chuck the basket at his head but instead you kick off your sandals and join him on the blanket, putting the overstuffed basket in front of the both of you. 

“I can’t believe you made me do all the shopping.” 

Sylus shrugged one shoulder, tucking his phone away. “I knew you’d pick out things we both would like.” 

“What if I didn’t and I picked stuff you hate?” You retorted, sulking a little. 

“Did you?” he mused thoughtfully. “If you did, I’d still eat it, as long as it was chosen by you.” 

When he said such saccharine sentiments so easily they felt insincere, but you knew by now that they weren’t. He was shameless, his smirk lost in the shadows cast by the moonlight. 

The revelry begins now that you’re here and Sylus uncorks the bottle in silent celebration of your arrival. It’s an easy camaraderie between the two of you now, and it’s hard for you to stay irritated at his antics when he’s so animated and open with you this way. The two of you exchange stories and he listens with his cheek propped on his fist as you tell him about the experiences you had as a child, or silly anecdotes like what happened with those children today.

Sylus is an attentive listener, eager to hear you talk about the most mundane things as if they’re the most fascinating story he’s ever heard. As the night goes on, you realize you’re both a little tipsy. The conversation between you finally lulls and when you look at Sylus, you see his cheeks are as flushed as yours. You can’t help but stare and he raises an eyebrow when he catches you. 

“What?" he says, bemused. "Do I have something on my face?” You shake your head and seem awkward about being caught staring, but he only chuckles in response. Sylus saves you from the moment by picking up a small pastry from a bakery you like and offers it to you.

“Here, try this,” he murmurs softly. Instead of taking it from him, you lean over and take a bite from his hand. It’s delicious and you want him to try it, too. 

“Have you tried it yet, Sylus? It’s…” Whatever you were going to say is cut off as Sylus leans in and kisses you suddenly, his warm lips pressed firmly against yours. He smells like wine and something you can’t quite define underneath that, but you sink into the kiss. He cradles your jaw gently and deepens his affections. His kiss is full of languid passion, unhurried, warm and inviting. He doesn’t try for more and when he pulls back to look at you with such tenderness it makes your heart twinge. You want to know the truth, but you’re also afraid if he confirms your fears that the way you feel right now will fade and you don’t want that to end yet. 

So you lean in to kiss Sylus again with only the moonlight watching, and cling to the finite moments you have with him instead of the graveyard of memories waiting for you back home.

[vodika-vibes]

could I have Fives with garnet at night? maybe meets the reader at 79s and saves them from a creepy dude?? if that doesn't vibe with you, make it whatever you want xx

You're Worth It

Summary: You should have known better than to come to the club with your friends, they always ditch you after all. Luckily, a handsome clone comes to your rescue.

Pairing: ARC Trooper Fives x Reader

Word Count: 637

Prompt: Garnet - Protective Love

Warnings: None

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni @imabeautifulbutterfly

A/N: Thank you for your request! I hope this is close to what you wanted~

You need some new friends. The friends that you’ve been running around with since you were all in diapers are not the best friends you could have asked for. By any definition of the word. 

Seeing as they ditched you as soon as they realized that they might hit it off with some of the people here.

Leaving you, all by your lonesome, to get cornered by a man who smells like a walking brewery. 

He’s so drunk, in fact, that you’re not entirely sure what he wants. His words are all slurred together into a jumbled mess of words. Though you’re pretty sure he’s hitting on you.

That, or he’s trying to sell you speeder insurance.

You hold your hands up, trying to keep him from leaning into your personal space, and it’s…not working.

You’d sell your right arm for one of your friends to notice that you’re in need of a rescue. But you can’t even see any of them.

“Ah, there you are!” A strong arm slings around your shoulders and you’re tugged into a broad chest, “Honestly, babe, you can’t just wander off like that.”

You blink, bewildered, at the man standing slightly in front of you. A clone, with a five tattooed on his forehead. He’s handsome, but then, all of the clones are, and has a rakish grin on his face.

“Sorry,” You say automatically, and his grin softens before he tosses a wink in your direction, “I got turned around.” You add.

“Totally understandable, there’s a bunch of people here.” He squeezes you a little tighter, “Excuse us, we need to get back to our table.”

The drunk man slurs something, and apparently your savior speaks drunk, because he doesn’t look the least bit confused.

“You’re very drunk, you should probably go for a walk. Get some fresh air.”

The drunk man rears his fist back as though he’s about to punch the man standing slightly in front of you. And you hazard a glance at the clone, he looks bored, and you feel a little silly for being so worried about him.

The man protecting you, moves slightly and nudges you to the side as the drunk man finally throws his punch, and ends up toppling to the floor. “Um…”

“Come on, leave him be. Someone will come and take care of him.” He ushers you away from the toppled man, and then grins at you, “Fives.”

“Beg pardon?”

“My name. It’s Fives.”

“Oh!” You hurriedly introduce yourself, and his smile widens. He really is very handsome. And apparently you’re a little more out of sorts than you thought because those very words fall from your lips.

Fives’ grin widens, “Thank you. I happen to think you’re stunning too.”

“I’m pretty sure I didn’t use the word stunning.”

“But you meant it though, I can tell.” Fives winks at you, and tugs you onto the dance floor, “Now, because I saved you from that awful drunk man, you should dance with me.”

“Is that right? Is this your payment?”

“Sure. But I’d do it anyway.”

You frown at him thoughtfully, even as you slide your arms around him, allow him to tug you closer, “You could have been hurt. What if he had a weapon?”

“Well, better I got hurt than you.” Fives replies with a small grin.

“No one is worth that!”

“I disagree. You clearly are.”

You’re struck silent by his sincerity, and his grin softens, “Now, let’s dance. And then, maybe, if you’re interested, we can go and get some caf?”

“Are you asking me out on a date?”

“Yeah. I am.”

“Oh.” You blink at him, “...there’s a cafe not far from here that sells the tea that I prefer-” You offer hesitantly.

“Sounds like a plan to me. But first we have to dance.”

[btsxmalereaders]

♡ pairing — bang chan x male reader

> genre — fluff

> tags — pre-debut bang chan, strangers to friends to lovers, just the reader being supportive af.

> word count —  5,11k

> summary — when you spot a lonely and seemingly stressed customer on the cafeteria you work in, you don't hesitate to keep him company. soon you find out what has been troubling him and decide to help him out, knowing it will be so easy to fall in love with him in the way.

Chan swears he could burst into tears once he takes a seat in the busy cafeteria he has arrived at, dragging the soles of his shoes and with his head down. Fortunately he has found an empty table, so he sets up his laptop after cleaning up a bit and plugs in his headphones, hoping to find at least some peace.

Even though this visit to the coffee shop was still to work, Chan feels his muscles a little less tense as the smell of coffee and tea brewing, also the bread and cookies coming out of the oven hits his nostrils.

His stomach growls, and after trying to ignore it for a few minutes, he finally decides to order something to keep him satisfied until it's time for dinner.

For the next few hours his eyes are fixed on his laptop screen, his fingers moving nimbly over the keys and cursor. He feels so pressured and guilty, and the unchanged expression on his face really hints at it.

There are so many questions running through his head, but no matter how hard he tries to find the answers, he always ends up in the same place. He knows that, as the leader of the group, he should be stronger and more supportive of his members; but now, in that small and now almost empty cafeteria, he feels like he can just let his worries be noticed without making the others be more preoccupied.

The sound of a teacup landing on his desk and being moved in his direction makes him look up, removing the only earpiece he had on and being met with a friendly smile.

"You look like you like tea better than coffee," You mutter, a little sheepishly. "It's on me. You look like you need it."

Chan doesn't know what to say for a moment, but before you can walk back to the register is when you can finally hear his voice.

"Thank you." He says with a sincere smile peeking on his face that denotes tiredness. "Uhm... _____?" Chan catches a glimpse of the nametag on your uniform. "I really needed it,  you're very kind."

"Of course, enjoy it." You smile at him and turn on your heels, until his voice stops you again.

"Wait," Chan scratches the back of his neck and quickly takes a glance at the now empty cafeteria. "Would you like to take a seat? Unless you're busy."

"Don't worry, it's nearly closing time so it's unusual more customers come at late hours." You assure him with a shy smile, taking seat in front of him. That's when he realises it's late and he lost track of time again.

"Oh, I didn’t even notice it was that late," He murmurs. "I'm sure you have to do lots of things before closing and if I'm being a bother I'll-"

"Don't worry," You repeat, this time giggling. "You're fine. We still got time left."

Chan can't help but smile and sigh before taking the cup you just brought and take a sip. His eyes closes for a moment as he feels the warmth and sweet flavor on his tongue, then he speaks up again, surprised: "Oh, wow, you did this yourself?"

The tone of his voice makes you giggle a bit, and you teasingly answer, "Why? Don't I look like the type of person that could make such awesome and sweet brews like this?"

"Oh, sorry, I didn’t mean to question your brewing abilities" He giggles as well. "It tastes amazing, I swear, it's almost as if you could read my mind and give me exactly what I needed."

"Yeah, actually when I got hired they told me I had to have this ability to read people's mind and give them their favorite beverages." You joke around, making him laugh even louder. "I think I'm doing a great job so far."

"Well, I pretty much appreciate it. No wonder why my friends recommended me this place so much, I think I'll become a frequent customer."

"It'll be nice to have you around here." You smile as you hear how your coworker thanks you for staying later for him and taking his coat before walking off the building. "Looks like it's only you and me."

Chan takes a glimpse of the time on his computer screen and yawns, "I spent a lot of time here and I haven't gotten a proper meal."

"Really? You should have dinner now before it gets too late. I think there are still ingredients to make something you'd like, do you-"

"Oh no, please," He immediately says before you can fully stand up. "Sorry. It's fine, you don't have to- I mean, you've been nice by given me this tea. I don't wanna look like I'm taking advantage of your kindness."

"Are you sure? I don't have any problem." You insist.

"Of course, plus, it's getting late, aren't you supposed to be closing in like twenty minutes?"

You nod, "Yeah, I just have to clean up some stuff and that's it. We don't really have clients coming last minute."

"Alright, how about I wait up and invite you something to eat on our way home? I'll pay you back."

You sweetly smile and stand up, "Alright. But I have to know your name first."

"Right, sorry, I am Bang Chan."

You extend your hand and he nervously shakes it, "Nice to meet you, Bang Chan. I'll tide up and be ready in a moment."

He watches you dissappear in the kitchen and starts to get nervous. This isn't how he expected his night to go. He had lots of things to do, to work on, to fix.

He entered the coffee shop feeling so down but determined to work hard and focus. At the verge of tears and slightly shaking still but wanting to fix everything, even when he deep down knew it wasn't at all up to him. He felt so guilty for allowing it to happen in first place and now he felt guilty for going out with someone he just met instead of working harder.

His head was surely a mess lately and even the thought of going out just for a night felt like something he didn't deserve to have. It has been so difficult and tough for him, he just felt the need to keep working so he could see the results he wanted the sooner as possible.

Without even noticing it, he starts biting his nails; his knee going up and down as he's sat in front of his laptop and saving his progress up to three times, just to make sure. He sighs with tiredness and an aching stomach, starting to feel his hands shake a little.

Breathing exercises, of course, he remembers it well. Minho has been there for him in tough times like this, being his companion at ungodly late night hours and being a shoulder Chan could lay on when it gets hard, but now he doesn't have it. He feels lost. Empty. How can he breathe well and feel on track when his friend isn't there to help him?

Millions of thoughts begin to cloud his mind. He is so tired and saddened by this situation but he doesn't have the time to grieve. The need to get back to the building and finish composing, as well as rehearsing and helping Felix study, gnaws at his insides.

"Hey," you say softly, snapping him out of the little trance he was in. "Everything okay?"

Chan looks beside himself for a moment before quickly gathering his belongings and standing up. "Yeah, yeah, sorry. You ready?"

"Are you sure? You look kind of... tired." You murmur, grabbing your backpack and keys. He shyly follows you and exits the place before you and you quickly close the door.

"Well, I am. I haven't been able to properly sleep, honestly," He chuckles, but still sounds saddened. "It's been tough days."

You both start walking down the streets; the neighborhood's nightlife highlighted by hearing people dining at nearby establishments and entering bars. Something quite common on a Friday night. Chan found it quite ironic how people were living their lives with ease and fun when he, in his full youth, was feeling so exhausted and stressed, wondering when things would get better for him.

"Well, I know we just met, but whatever you wanna talk about, I am here to listen." You smile and look at him as he sighs.

Chan doubts a little bit; was it really a good idea to vent out to a stranger? You looked really trustworthy, but would you even be willing to listening him ranting or were you just being nice? He doesn't say a word for the next minute, and you stop when you find small food truck.

"Want a corn dog?" You say, trying to lift the spirits a little bit. He nods and rushes to pay for them before you could even approach your hand to your pocket. "That's not fair."

"It is. You've done a lot for me and we just met. You're a nice guy," He chuckles and after you finish your order and get the food, you two walk a little bit to sit on a bench. "So... I know this might sound weird, but you seem a very trustworthy person and... I don't know, I guess I just need to vent out."

"I'm all ears, go ahead."

He sighs for the nth time that day and his leg goes up and down unconsciously. Chan looks somewhat nervous but once he starts talking, it goes on for minutes. He starts talking about that he is a trainee under a music company, and he, along his friends, is participating in a survival show in order for them to debut, and what has been making it so hard for him is that the person in charge and who has been giving them feedback, also decided to kick out two members of the group. Chan says he felt responsible for this because he is the leader, but has been struggling with this whole situation because he, at the same time he's sorting this out, has to calm everyone else down and give them the support and help they need too in these desperate times. He has been so hard on himself and has been overworking too to help his friends and avoid at all costs for them to ever feel that way again. Chan doesn't want them to be separated from the group, because he personally chose them and saw the potential in them to become part of this project. At this point, it's like they're a family, and wants to stick with them forever.

It almost feels as if he is truly pouring out his heart because he’s talking out with so much detail and constantly telling how he feels about every single thing coming out of his mouth. His gaze is fixed on the ground and he hasn’t even started to eat. You can only suppose he has been in a lot of pain and restlessness lately.

As he speaks, you can't help but notice the despair he feels. His eyes are glazed and he's fidgeting his fingers a lot but now you can't seem to do anything to help him; just listen. It's a lot to process, but you're doing your best.

You are not even sure if he has asked for your advice, so you try to process all the information you have received. Anyway, what could you possibly say to that?

After he stops speaking, he just keeps his gaze on the pavement, his food is getting colder and he feels this need to cry. You don't say anything for a moment until he raises his head.

"I'm sorry you're going through all of this... It really must be hard." You murmur, suddenly feeling your hands sweaty, your mind racing as it looks for comforting words to say. "Look, you probably already know not to worry too much and not to overwork yourself, you probably have been told this a lot... but you should know too that you're doing your best."

Chan can't help but chuckle at that, sniffing afterwards and clearing the traces of tears on his cheeks.

"Seriously, being in charge of a group it's a big responsibility, and I admire you for that. You're doing everything you can and it's okay, don't be too hard on yourself. Things will be just as you want them to be, and even better. Have patience and keep doing what you're doing. It's going to be okay soon."

Surprisingly, your words make him feel a little bit tense. Chan sincerely smiles and looks at you, nodding and feeling a comfort for the first time in a while, "Thank you, _____, I really appreciate it."

All he ever wanted was just vent out and feel heard. It's not like he didn't feel that way with his friends, but he truly needed to hear it from someone who wasn't involved in this situation. Hearing comforting words from someone else have given him the reassurance he needed.

"Of course, I wish I could help you more but I'm afraid I don't know a lot about these music companies... Is there any other way I could help you out? Because I'd be happy to do it in any way."

Chan thinks about it for a moment. "Yeah, there might be a way... but for now let's enjoy this food, alright? I know this has been a lot."

So the next hour goes more smoothly, making Chan laugh with dad jokes and ridiculous puns, but at least he is distracted enough and, for the first time in a while, he feels like his preoccupations doesn't exist. He's just living the moment and having a good time.

When it gets too late, though, he walks with you to a place near where you live and says goodbye, thanking you for hearing him and making him feel better this night, and promising he'd visit the cafeteria soon. You give him your number, with the excuse of asking him to tell you the way you could help him on that survival show or just talk to him whenever he needed to, thing he appreciated.

Chan waves his hand goodbye with a big smile on his face and his heart beating fast.

You don't hear anything from Chan for a couple of days, until you get a text message in the middle of the night. You quickly open it, your heart racing as you read the beginning of the message; Chan apologizing for texting you so late and telling you that a new episode of his survival show is coming out in the evening, and that he has seen on social media that some fans will be sending messages of support and sharing petitions to get Minho and Felix back into the group, so he extends the invitation to you to help, which you agree to.

You reply immediately with a "Count on it!" and a separate message inviting him and his friends to stop by the coffee shop on any free day they have, promising to treat them to whatever they want for their hard work.

Truth is you have been catching up on the program and listening to the songs they have posted online, and you were so impressed that it left you wondering how come you didn't hear about them before. They all were really good, talented and you just knew they were all destined to be together.

So in your spare time, in the next weeks, you don't miss the opportunity to watch the show and support through messages on social media, immediately getting friends joining together for the same cause.

You keep exchanging texts with him from time to time, some days you talk for hours, some others you only get to send just a few messages due to the busy schedules, but you have been consistent and have managed to keep a good communication, and you'd say you're good friends now.

He visits you on the cafeteria on his free time, and every time you see him cross that door with a shy smile on his face, you immediately feel nervous. You know why, you know yourself, you know your feelings, but decide to put them aside for now. It's better this way, right? With all of the pressure Chan has been feeling lately, the only thing you can do best now is offer him your friendship and support.

The smile that appears on your face every time Chan visits the cafeteria is raising suspicions among your friends. As soon as he steps inside the place, you feel a tickling in your stomach, your hands feel shaky, but you manage to walk to his table and greet him.

"Hey, how have you been?" You sweetly ask, leaving a blueberry muffin in front of him.

Chan smiles and thanks you, "I actually came with great news! Are you free now?"

You think taking five minutes won't hurt anyone, and you have been waiting for news so you decide to take a seat next to him and listen to what he has to say. "Go on, what is it?"

He can't hide his big smile, the beautiful dimples his cheeks have and that glow on his face, it's a big difference from the last time you saw him, and that makes you feel happy as well.  He starts explaining that J.Y. Park let them prepare a performance with Felix and Minho for the finale, since they heard the audience's opinion and will deliberate if the group is going to debut with or without them, and the audience will be a big help for that.

"Wait, that's is awesome!" You say, not trying to hide your happiness. "It's so obvious everyone will want them back in the group, they're coming back for sure!"

"I know, I know, although I try not to get my hopes high because he can change his mind last minute or change everything up, you know? I just don't wanna get disappointed..."

"Chan, I know you will debut together, trust me, and trust your friends, alright? Have faith in the future. That man will make the right choice."

Chan nods, becoming more and more convinced, more confident and happy. Maybe you were right, even if his mind reminded him that he shouldn't get his hopes too high, the truth is that he wanted so much to believe that the best would come.

"Come on, let me buy you something to drink, okay? Relax a little, think positive! I'll be right back."

With everything that has been going on, Chan has been involved in so much work, so many rehearsals, so many talks and so much stress, that he hasn't stopped to think about how he feels. Of course, he has been talking to you for a couple of weeks and has found your advice very helpful, just being there for him when he needs it is just amazing and so meaningful to him. The one thing he has been trying to avoid is thinking why every time you two talk, he can't help but feel his heart racing, he can't help but smile every time he gets a text from you during the day to remind him to eat and take a break from time to time, and to let him know about your day to day to distract him during difficult times. Chan has noticed that talking to you brings him an incredible calm that he really needs and has had so many questions on his mind that he still can't find an answer to.

Maybe it's better this way for now, he thinks, he'll just let things flow.

Finally, the day has come. To say Chan was feeling nervous was an understatement, he was getting his make up done while reviewing the notes he made on his phone for the finale. Jeongin and Seungmin are rehearsing, Changbin and Jisung are talking and probably giving tips to Hyunjin, he has been struggling a lot because of the nervousness but they are reassuring him he will do perfect tonight.

Felix and Minho are the ones who look the most nervous, practicing the choreography in front of the big mirror and then singing together. Chan gets closer to them once his make up and hair is done, patting their shoulders and giving them advice, but most importantly, he reminds them what they're capable of and how far they've gotten.

"You got this, you know? Once we perform together, it's gonna be like that for a long, long time, alright? 8 is fate!" He says, and walks away with the rest of them as they were finally given the cue to leave backstage. Everyone says comforting words to everyone before start.

You, on the other hand, didn't get the chance to be in the venue, but didn't think twice to watch it on your phone.

"Has it started yet?" Your friend says as she puts on her apron and gets closer to you in an attempt to look at the screen.

"In a few minutes." You smile and take a seat on an empty chair. "Thanks for covering for me."

"It's okay, whatever helps you to go out with that guy." She jokingly murmurs.

"What are you talking about?" You say, surprised.

"Oh, please, ______, don't play the fool, I've seen you drool over him every time he stops by. Why else would you hype him up so much and help him out with his show?"

"Cause he's a good friend!"

"Yeah, right, maybe a friend you wanna-"

"Hey!"

"...You wanna go out on a date with. God, see? You're just proving my point." She giggles and walks to the door. "I'll tell you if we need help, and keep me updated, alright? Good luck."

The show starts and your heart starts racing. You notice immediately there are a lot of fans in the venue, holding banners, screaming to the top of their lungs and supporting all of the members of the group. The MC starts the show by making a introduction about how far they've come and how J.Y.Park is going to evaluate and deliberate whether they stay with or without Minho and Felix.

As soon as a number pops up on the screen you immediately write it down, since is the way they're going to receive the fans' votes. Luckily, your friend lend you her phone to send messages too, so you don't hesitate to start, and also posting on your media to help out as well.

A few weeks ago you wouldn't even thought you were going to be doing this, but it's been a long time since you were so dedicated to any band or artist, so getting the passionate experience of being a dedicated fan again is really nice.

As soon as the stages start you feel so happy and so highly strung, but you had nothing to worry about since they were doing amazing. The feedback they were getting was great although there were some things missing due to the nervousness they must be feeling as well. Over all, they were giving amazing performances and you felt really happy for them.

When Minho and Felix finally make their appearance it's when the fans gather and start sending their votes. The group makes an amazing performance of Hellevator that shows off their hard work, and the fans doesn't get behind when the MC announces a mid-results revelation of the votes, showing that 96% of the people who casted their vote, want Stay Kids with no members left behind.

Everyone is shocked, yes, but not because they didn't know the fans obviously wanted those results; but they thought the gap would be wider. That only increased their hopes and made Jinyoung know what his priority should be when making a final decision.

After a few performances more, with some clips of the guys preparing for this very moment, the time has finally come to know what does the future hold for them. It's a big moment. The members who were eliminated on previous challenges are on the center of the stage. It's a tense moment, especially since the MC is repeating himself and keeping the suspense.

Once Jinyoung starts talking everyone listens carefully, but at some point Chan stops listening. He feels so disconnected for a moment there, he feels incredibly nervous, shaking, just hoping for the best. You are at the edge of your seat, hands shaking as well; your friend has come to check on you a few times and every time she entered the room she just saw you more and more anxious. But the results are finally here; you both just feel an amazing feeling once you hear the long-awaited: "Congratulations, Stray Kids will be 8 members."

You jump off your seat and your friend enters the room almost running, and giving you a hug after seeing the expression of victory and happiness on your face.

"Hey, I'm so glad everything worked out for them! Don't you think we should prepare something special for them? Ask them to come any day and we'll see."

You don't think it twice, and immediately send Chan a text message, firstly congratulating him for this great outcome, and inviting all of them to celebrate in the cafeteria. To your surprise, he replies a few minutes after the broadcast ends.

Thank you so so much for your support, _____

I don't think I could've gone through all of this without your help!

And thank you for this invitation, is tomorrow a good day? We'd be happy to come by, x

So with the butterflies in your stomach and tinted cheeks, you confirm him, willing to do your best for their visit.

When they enter the coffee shop, they notice the decorations and smile, tons of ballons in red, black and white, a banner that reads 8 is fate, and a special brew on the menu named after them.

Chan greets you with a hug and whispers a sincerely thank you, "You did this all yourself?"

"Yeah, well, I got a little help from my friends of course. They also became fans of you, so we all prepared this for you, guys. Do you like it?"

"It's amazing, I swear, thank you!" He says, still looking around in awe. "Let me introduce you to the guys, alright?"

So you approach the table where they have taken seat, some of them taking pictures and thanking the workers for this. Chan clears his throat for everyone to listen to him.

"Guys, there's someone I'd like you to meet," He shyly says, turning to face you. "This is ____, I met him here a few weeks ago and has helped me a lot, but you know this already. Also, a big fan of ours ever since."

You smile and wave at them, to which Felix sweetly smiles at you: "We've heard a lot about you, _____! It's great to finally meet you. Channie hyung has talked about you for a long, long time, I thought you were his boyfriend."

Everyone laughs and agrees with him, making Chan turn red.

"Oh, really? Well, it's a shame he hasn't asked me out yet, I've been waiting a long while." You respond, making them boo at Chan for not doing it earlier.

Without saying more, you go back to the kitchen to start preparing the beverages and pastries along with your friends, and after giving them to the guys with more congratulations and thanks, Chan grabs you by the hand and looks at you, serious. "Can we talk for a minute?"

You nod, suddenly feeling dizzy. You guide him to the staff area and pretend not to be nervous, even though your legs feel shaky.

"What's up, is everything okay?"

"Yeah, yeah, this is awesome, again, thank you so much for this, but uhm... I wanted to ask you about... you know, earlier." He scratches the back of his neck and takes a deep breath. "I'll just ask; did you mean what you said? About me asking you out?"

You swear you feel your heart stop for a moment, but gather up the courage to answer: "Yes, I meant that." You chuckle at Chan's reaction, who seems to be in shock. "Honestly, you can't blame me. You're just an amazing person, and meeting you has been the highlight of my life, no joke. However, if you only intend to be friends with me, that's alright. I don't wanna make you feel uncomfortable around me or make you feel pressured, I just wanted to let you know that I like you."

Chan smiles and doesn't hesitate to give you a tight hug. He feels his heart beating fast, but at the same time he feels this ease. He's so glad to hear that from you.

"Thank god I wasn't the only one feeling this way." He murmurs and separates from you. "I couldn't wrap my head around it, especially since I was going through that difficult moment, but last night I just confirmed my suspicions. When I got that text from you, there was nothing else I could think of but coming here to you, to tell you I like you. I like you too, and I am so glad to hear you do too."

The biggest smile appears on your face, and you swear you could melt from the warmth and comfort you were feeling right now. You hugged Chan again, feeling incredibly lucky.

After a moment of just hugging and feeling this calm, you look at him in the eyes, "So... Is it okay if I ask you out?"

He giggles and hides his face with his hands, "I can't believe this is happening. Yes, of course yes. I'd love to go out with you."

You can't help but giving him another big hug, hiding your face on the crook of his neck and smelling his sweet smell along with the coffee.

Chan smoothly moves his hands on your back and pulls you a bit closer, "Thank you for staying by my side this whole time. And for making me feel like I was not alone."

"Happy to, I'm glad things turned out this way." You murmur and separate a bit, his face right in front of you, his breath against your lips and his eyes fixed on yours, "So, would you like more coffee?"

Chan giggles, seeing you got nervous, but then he gives you a small kiss on your cheek. "Of course. Let's go."

[xxsycamore]

A Soulmate That Wasn’t Meant to Be

╰┈➤ 🩷 While rare, there are some instances of a soulmate clock appearing to be broken, showing a negative countdown or one that you cannot outlive. Or both. You were just born under an unlucky star. One that destined you to not only fail to experience such a major event of your life as knowing when you've met your soulmate, but also for Arthur Conan Doyle to find out about it when you've successfully kept it a secret from almost everyone so far.

Arthur Conan Doyle x Gender Neutral Reader • rating: G • tags: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting; Alternate Universe - College/University; Alternate Universe - Reincarnation; Alternate Universe - Soulmates; Soulmate-Identifying Timers; Denial of Feelings; Feelings Realization; Fake/Pretend Relationship; Pet Names; Drinking; Time Travel; First Kiss • wordcount: 2,641 • masterlist

a/n: This is my gift for @oigimi, for the Secret Santa event hosted by @lemeowade ! I saw your preferences for AUs and I couldn't help myself searching for a connection...then I remembered soulmate clock AU is a thing, and then I remembered ikevamp deals with timetravel and I went "hmmm this can turn into something interesting!" and it spiraled out of control after that point 😭 i sincerely hope this isn't too big of a mess and that it's your type of fic! Hope you enjoy, I had a lot of fun!! 🥺🥺❤❤ Namesake song by Jess Benko. Take a look at the end notes for clarification on some parts of this fic!

"Remind me again why do I have to spend the whole day being your pretend partner. The party doesn't start until 10PM tonight!"

"Here you go, luv. Be careful, it's hot!" Arthur hands the freshly baked pastry to you, resuming your slow stroll in Jardin du Carrousel, the garden of the Louvre museum. You hurriedly take it from his hands if that would make him finally pay attention to your question. Of course it would be hot, he doesn't need to remind you - it only annoys you further, as he so obviously does it to look like a good boyfriend more than anything.

"Do you want to taste mine? I can taste yours too."

"No thank you."

You suppose it's partly your own fault finding yourself in your current situation, considering the recent events. In a world where everyone is busy chasing after time, enjoying the dating scene before their soulmate countdown turns to zero, or trying to rush in and see the countdown speeding up as they try to play with fate and meet with their designated soulmate faster, you're an outcast. An outcast with a broken soulmate clock on your wrist, condemning you to a lifetime of long sleeves and wide bracelets and false modesty to trick people's curiosity. You should be used to them by now, their comments about you not being interested in relationships. And even though you do feel fed up with it, the thought of lying about dating someone just so they can shut up never crossed your mind.

But it crossed that of Arthur Conan Doyle. The college's infamous frivolous playboy, a firm believer of the 'hook up as much as you can before you find your soulmate!' ideology. Now, you didn't want to have anything to do with a guy like him, but on one of those college parties you were dragged to, he decided to pick you for the lead role in his biggest, stupidest drunken decision yet. And you were equally as drunk to play along with it, nodding in the face of his ex-girlfriend as she looked at the both of you in disbelief. For a playboy like Arthur, you thought he was managing to control his dating life better than this. But you guess he just got bored of being surrounded by love.

Straightening the lapels of his grey coat, Arthur fetches the brochure handed earlier to him out of his inner pocket and takes a quick look at it to make sure you checked out everything of interest in the area before entering the museum itself.

The guy has a whole checklist of activities for the day. You've seen it. He purposely taped another page underneath just to scare you with its sheer length, but you're seeing right through his tricks, the page is full of gibberish written just to take space. You've got your best frown on to keep the illusion of ignorance, hoping that you'd get bonus points for agreeing to go through the full contents of the list, both the real and the fake ones.

But is it really an act? The occasional tidbits of satisfaction coming from beating Arthur's brilliant mind - not that you'd ever give him the credit for it - are hardly enough to keep you entertained throughout the day. When the activities you take on today are meant to be just that, entertaining. And romantic too.

Now, were you a normal couple, a true couple, then maybe you'd be having fun now.

"Arthur, I think partners are supposed to listen to each other and answer each other's questions. At the very least."

"But you see, dear…" Arthur wraps his arm over your shoulder, gently nudging you into taking a turn away from the crowded path ahead and into a more secluded walk. "By asking that question out loud with people around us, you've already answered yourself. We clearly have more training to do, or we won't appear as a genuine couple."

Ah. He's right, damn it.

"I only lowered my guard because these people don't know us, stupid… Let's get inside already!"

Getting ahead of him, you think that as long as you appear excited to see the exponates, you can get away with keeping a few steps distance from Arthur. Hearing his low, annoying chuckle triggers the sensory neurons in your brain until a neat little image of his smirk is produced with near-perfect accuracy. Have you simply seen it too many times? There's no escape even when you turn your back to him, great.

The Louvre is magnificent to explore with the many pieces of art it houses, instantly changing your infatuation with the slow passage of time into wishes it would stop altogether. There's so much to see that you'd frankly not mind getting lost in here just to have an excuse to spend more time surrounded by art.

You have to admit, Arthur chose the perfect dating spot. You're not sure if it was based on your own preferences - surely not - but you find yourself not minding it suddenly.

"Picture!"

Hearing the signal, you instantly turn in the direction of the raised-up phone, smiling for the camera as Arthur presses his face closer to yours.

"Oh, this is a good one, I'm definitely posting it. You look so inlove."

"I'm in love with Da Vinci's work, that's it."

"Uh-uh. That works for me too." Arthur replies while his fingers dance across the screen, likely typing some cheesy caption for the picture. A second later your own phone vibrates in your pocket, signaling that he posted the picture and tagged you in it, and you don't even bother looking.

"At least you're a natural, Arthur."

"What, in masking an expression? How are you so sure?"

You blink, meeting his gaze as some child holding a balloon separates the two of you for a mere second. Instinctively, you shorten the distance so you don't lose Arthur, looking for his hand to take hold of. You've already been through that today, linking hands in the crowds. And while there was no real need to do that right now, you just did that…

To the question in your eyes evoked from his last words, he smirks and adds, "There are pieces of art here that I look at with fondness just like you do."

Your heart sinks for a moment, only to create palpitations that mess with your head. You have no idea where they came from or what evoked this feeling in your chest, but while looking anywhere but at Arthur, your gaze falls on other couples passing by. It's because you were instructed to watch them if you're having trouble recreating the subtle romantic gestures that indicate dating. An advice from a writer no doubt, one that you wish you could forget because it's too late telling your brain to forget what it's been taught. But the question is, why the sudden turning of stomach at the sight of them?

While failing to watch your step, you lose your balance and stumble on your own feet, meeting the hard ground hands-first. You feel eyes on you for a short moment; just a mere second any stranger might spare to witness the unfortunate event before moving on with their tour.

That's it, except for Arthur - who is there to pull you up in a manner of utmost care, dusting off your clothes, taking you to a more secluded area with benches to rest on and asking you at least three times if you're alright before you can snap out of your surprised state and let out a murmur of affirmation.

In the whirlwind of emotions rushing through your slightly clouded mind, you put the embarrassment of your fall aside and realize you still feel hot. As Arthur turns your hand around to inspect it, you realize that no amount of hand-holding numbed your reaction to the touch of his warm hands.

And no amount of his exaggerated lovey-dovey gestures of affection could prepare you for the look of genuine worry over something so insignificant on his face.

"You fell on your hands, they must be scrapped… let's get them under cold water, it would wash away the dirt too."

"Wait, don't look!-"

With the distraction slowing down your reactions, you fail to stop Arthur on time before he can roll up your sleeve.

Your soulmate clock instantly makes him adopt an expression of perplexion, as the quick look he gave it was enough for him to notice the bizarre sight of one too many numbers aligned on the width of your wrist.

-46 750 days, 9 hours, 17 minutes, 35 seconds

"Your countdown is…"

"Screwed up. I'm one of those people."

While rare, there are some instances of a soulmate clock appearing to be broken, showing a negative countdown or one that you cannot outlive. Or both. You were just born under an unlucky star.

One that destined you to not only fail to experience such a major event of your life as knowing when you've met your soulmate, but also for Arthur Conan Doyle to find out about it when you've successfully kept it a secret from almost everyone so far.

It has to be some kind of irony, being here with him today for these reasons. He who made up this whole plan because he needs an escape from love, while you on the other hand-

"Now that I've seen yours, it would only be fair I showed you mine."

"It's nothing, you really don't have to-"

You try to avert your gaze as Arthur extends his hand and rolls up his sleeve, turning it so you can see the inside of his wrist.

-12 616 days, 9 hours, 16 minutes, 51 seconds

"Huh…" You freeze for a moment, not believing your eyes. The guy you secretly envied for having the privilege of being sure about meeting true love to the point he'd chase ephemeral trysts just to kill time. Turns out he also won't be able to…

"I'm so sorry."

"Don't think I'm all that sad, luv. I was never destined to have a soulmate, but that's fine by me. Maybe that's what I deserve."

Your head spins with emotion once more, and this time it's guilt. And it weighs down on you heavier than all else there is, and you suddenly want to disappear.

It's probably not wise to turn your back on Arthur without saying a word, but you'll be regretting this later. You start running, and he calls out your name but it never approaches you. He's not even chasing after you, but you're glad - you've already started thinking of the apology you're going to drop in his direct messages before blocking his number.

Just as you halt your step and check behind your back, you spot his tall frame amidst the crowd, trying to push his way toward you. Without much time to think, you open the nearest door and pray that he'll lose you from his sight and continue ahead on the corridor.

This section of the museum appears different somehow, ontop of being strangely devoid of visitors, with the exponates carrying an air of extra antiquity to them. The path ahead is quite narrower in contrast to the other hallways too, the lightning more sparse, and the feeling of unease tells you to wait out Arthur's chase attempt and then go back where you came from.

Except, he finds you.

You hate it that he read your mind about entering that door, and you hate that you're now practically given the privacy to talk. Not wanting to face him now, you simply continue ahead, hoping to blend with the crowd at the other side of that corridor and escape him then.

Arthur follows behind you, continuing to call out your name, and your mind becomes dizzy out of a sudden. You're ready to blame it on one too many things and you don't pay much attention, until something odd happens. A blinding light flashes before you, making you unable to advance further. Arthur catches up with you just in time to put his hand on your arm.

The light is gone in the next moment, and you slowly open your eyes to find yourself in a different hallway, together with Arthur.

Sinking to your knees, you try to make something out of the bizarre situation, and Arthur follows you on the ground to soothingly massage your back, simultaneously checking for injury. A tiny part of you remains sane and warm, and it's glad that he's here.

"A-Arthur! Look at my-"

Moving his gaze from your shocked expression to your outstretched hand, he gasps as he sees your soulmate clock suddenly speed up, losing years upon years, seemingly not planning on stopping anytime soon. Another portion of shock hits you as you notice his own clock doing the same, and you drag up his hand to get his attention to it.

At a pace slower than yours, Arthur's clock reduces its countdown. The two of you can only watch in alert silence, everything else becoming irrelevant in the face of the miracle happening to those who accepted their deprived-of-love fate long, long ago. In the lone hallway, two sets of eyes search for a third person who does not exist, as one might do when that moment approaches.

The days on the counters reduce to what at most adds up to a few years, then a few months, then finally they turn to zero; followed by the minutes, and at last, followed by the seconds as well.

The rows of zeros align on both of your wrists, signaling that…

"My soulmate is…"

"It's been you the whole time?"

***

After being found by the residents of what you came to know is the mansion of Comte de Saint-German, you were introduced to the lord of the house himself. His explanation eased some of your concerns while still being bizarre enough to be hardly believable.

Being trapped here for a month surely sounds like you'll have enough time on your hands to unpack everything that happened today. But you're glad you're not going through this on your own.

Once you find yourself alone in the company of Arthur again, the butterflies in your belly are revived, stubbornly refusing to let anything overshadow the realization you came to just awhile ago.

Arthur seems to be able to tell what's on your mind. His deep sea-blue eyes lock into yours, and you don't know what to say. Luckily, he takes the initiative.

"We traveled back in time. The clocks were never broken… we were meant to meet here."

An echo of his words reverberates in your head as you try and let them sink in, absurd as they sound…there's no other explanation.

He starts laughing, much to your dismay.

"What's so funny?"

"Nothing, just…" He casually puts his hands in his pockets, admiring a painting hanging on the hallway's wall as he picks his words. "Seeing as we won't be showing up to that party… I guess we don't need the pretend couple lessons anymore."

It's a laugh you didn't know you needed. You aren't sure what is it about human nature that nudges you to seek the solace of a smile no matter how sobering and hostile a situation is, such as finding yourself in an unfamiliar place, in an unfamiliar age. But you're thankful.

"It's a shame." Arthur turns to you. "I was looking forward to kissing you as our grand final lesson."

Your eyes widen, and Arthur has that stupid smirk plastered on his face. Without taking his hands out of his pockets, he leans into your frame and shortens the distance.

"It's a shame indeed…" is all you can muster before sealing those damned alluring smiling lips of Arthur with your own.

a/n: The soulmate clock AU normally uses the countdown for the couple's meeting but here they've clearly met before, so I wondered if I could instead make it count down to their first meeting in the place they're destined to fall in love at, Comte's mansion in 19th century Paris.

Arthur's countdown differs from that of the reader because his clock is synced with the timeline of his previous life - practically, he was born in 1859, lived through the year 1895 when they were destined to meet with the reader - but because it wasn't the right timeline, his clock began to run backwards. Arthur then dies in 1930 and gets reborn into 21st century Arthur, with a clock that still counts down to the year 1895, but the countdown picks up from the moment he died in his previous life - july 7th 1930 (his death day). This is why his and the reader's clocks aren't synced and they can't see it coming that they're each other's soulmate LMAO get doomed by the narrative

"mo are you alright why is this a 4 different AUs at once, 2600 word fic without any planned squeals" yes I think it's perfect as it and I had fun!

Taglist: @arsnovacadenza @ale-teodora @kimi00twin @otomelady @privilegedpancake @g-kleran    @pumpumnnnp @thesirenwashere @ravenarld @kimmy-banana @devonares @galaxyprison @sadshaxk @starshards26 @thewitchofbooks @acethephoenix256 @ikevamp-shrine-2 @nad-zeta @crystal13unny @lordsister @ikemen-banshou   @themysticalbeing @otome-scribbles @rhodolitesrose @coornn @kpop-and-otome @queen-dahlia @kisara-16 @chaosangel767 @ikemenlibrary @queengiuliettafirstlady @aurora-morning @aquagirl1978 ​ @ikemenlover24 @mcofthemansion @joy-the-reader @katriniac @ikemen-writer @tele86 @lovely-bubb1es @aria-chikage @babyblue0t7 @rhodoliteschaos @shrimpy-kitsune @nightghoul381 @xbalayage @lucyw260 @kittygrimm88 @lokis-laugh Let me know if you want to be tagged/untagged!

[officialdaydreamer00]

star child!! please deliver my letter(⁠~° - °)⁠~🍫🍭🍬🎂🍧🍯🍩🍭🍩🎂🍧🍩🍫🍯🍧🍬🍭🎂🍬🍭🍩🎂🍩🎂

To my beloved Jade,

How are you, my love? It's quite cold here where I am, and I see it's snowing in Twisted Wonderland. I know you're not much affected by the cold, but I do hope you'll stay warm. I fear we may never be able to share each others' warmth, so at the very least, keeping yourself warm with me in mind might make up for it. Think of it as my concern for you transcending our realms.

It's almost a year since I've met you, time really does fly quickly, doesn't it? You've brought me so many beautiful emotions, and though not always positive, I've enjoyed and treasured every single one. Seeing you has really become quite a highlight of my year, I hope you might feel the same.

You would likely call me foolish for hoping this, but I genuinely do hope our realms will cross one day. Then I'd be able to cook for you and watch you eat contently, I could go hiking with you and make terrariums with you, and maybe you could join me in some of my hobbies too. This world as it is now, is far too cruel for us, don't you think?

Time is running out, so I'll end this letter quickly. I love you dearly, from the bottom of my heart, and I think of you ever moment I am wake, and I dream of you when I'm not. You are so incredibly important to me, you silly sly eel.

Oh, and I do hope you'll be able to spare more time for me this Halloween hahaha, I'd love to see more of you in your costume.

Yours till the end of time,

Your Sunflower

i hope this isn't too long hehe, love this new event sm💕

*happily yoinks the sweets* you got it bossman!! (can't believe you're the first one again, rinna :O it must be fate!!)

My dearest Sunflower,

I am overjoyed to receive a letter from you. I sure hope you are keeping yourself warm and healthy in this cold weather.

Indeed, it is snowing in Twisted Wonderland, and while I am not affected, as you have said, it warms my heart seeing how many thoughts you put into this silly little eel. I am so proud of you, my dear, and every effort you made in your own everyday life.

Time truly does seem to fly so quickly whenever I am with you. My heart longs to see you more and more with each passing day, and it aches when you have to leave. As much as it pains me, I understand why. It is your own life, after all.

But Sunflower, dearest, every one of those moments with you are, and will always be, held dear to my heart. If the mere wish of meeting you and holding you in my arms is what you called foolish, then I, too, am a fool. For I dared to cling to a dream that may never come true. Still, I know it is just wistful thinking, but perhaps this is the chance that the universe is giving us to connect, albeit through just a letter.

I should not let our dear messenger waiting for too long. I love you to the moon and back, Sunflower. You occupied my every waking thought, and my every dream. You are just as important to me as I am to you.

Sincerely yours,

Jade Leech♡

P.S. I look forward to our time together this Halloween

tags: @azulashengrottospiano @aqua-beam @identity-theft-101 @moonlit-midnight @siren-serenity @dove-da-birb @krenenbaker @mermaidfanficlibrary @cave-of-jade @thehollowwriter @jaylleoo14

remember to reblog if you enjoy my works! ^-^

[valiantstarlights]

[Priest Hob AU sequel] Some Months Later, December 24, Evening.

Tagging @alexxuun because they deserve credit for the AU. 😊 I can't tag the anon who requested a sequel in an ask, but here you go! I hope you like it. 🖤

--

"I don't...I don't understand." Hob clutches at Dream's arm when he realizes where Dream has transported them. "Why are we here?"

'Here' was the corridor they got married in, months ago by now. Nothing has changed. The fourth window left of the door was still cracked, and the tile near the first pillar was still placed unevenly. Time has passed, surely, but Hob doesn't know the time difference between Hell and Earth. For all he knows, only a few minutes have passed since he was last here with Dream.

"To pray, I suppose," Dream replies, sounding amused at his question. "Is this what being in my presence does to you, Father Robert? Have you forgotten the purpose of churches?"

Panic flared bright in his chest. "No, please, don't call me that. You know I'm not...I'm not that person anymore. I'm your husband now. Right? Dream?" His heart was suddenly beating so quickly. Dream was looking at him strangely, all traces of humor gone from his handsome face. "Why are we here? Have you...have you grown tired of me? Is this you returning me to my old life?"

No. No. Anything but that. Anything but the crushing loneliness, the prayers that ring hollow when he recites them, the misguided belief that suffering brings you closer to heaven. That it is worth being miserable your entire life, giving and giving until you have nothing left, for the sake of having a place in God's kingdom where it would be more of the same: worshipping an absent, indifferent being, the air filled with songs of zealous, nauseating praise, fake beatific smiles on the face of everyone you meet.

Hob would rather die than live that life again. He would rather starve in the streets and die a peasant's death than leave Dream's side. If his husband has fallen out of love with him--

"Hush, my love," Dream says, and then Hob is enfolded in his strong arms, Dream's dark wings also moving to shelter him. Hob immediately clings tight. If Dream wants him to let go, he's going to have to break Hob's arms first. "I am here. I will not leave you. You are mine until the end of time."

"Then why?" Hob asks against the rich fabric of Dream's robes. He still sounds panicked, short breath coming in gasps. "Why are we here? I don't want to be here."

Dream rubs Hob's back comfortingly, up and down and up again, sometimes brushing his long fingers through Hob's hair, until Hob calms down. Until he can breathe normally again. Hob doesn't know how much time has passed, but their surroundings are undisturbed and not a single person walks by them.

And then Dream asks, "Are you sure?"

What?

Dream sighs but continues his soothing gestures. "I know you miss it. I hear you hum sometimes, when your mind is focused on a task. Religious melodies. Christmas songs, of late. I don't think you notice it, but some of the staff do. Lucienne tells me you must have wanted to visit, but are too afraid to ask me." He leans away from Hob so Hob could see how sincere he looks, but all Hob reads in Dream's face is the sadness in his eyes at the thought of Hob not trusting him enough to tell him his wishes.

"I do not want you to think that you can never visit again," Dream tells him, soft and a little vulnerable. "I do not want you to think that by marrying me, you have lost your freedom." He looks around them, at the high ceilings and the tall windows. "And so here we are."

"Dream," Hob says as earnestly as he could. "It's just a habit. I hum when I feel like it's too quiet. It just so happens that the songs I pick are...well. But if you enchant a violin to play by itself and follow me around, I assure you the humming will cease, or if it persists, then it would be to the tune of Mozart or Bach or whichever composer you pick."

He places his hand against his husband's cheek and watches as Dream leans against it before turning his head to kiss his palm. Hob's heart breaks at the tender movement. How long had Dream been worried about this?

"As for my freedom," Hob says, "You did not clip my wings. You unbound them. And since you have, I have never felt happier. With you by my side, I feel like I can achieve anything. You opened my eyes and taught me better. Helped me unlearn all the false teachings I grew up believing to be true. You have made me into the best version of myself I could ever hope to be, and I would not have anyone else by my side. I'm glad I'm spending my eternity with you."

Dream's eyelashes flutter in pleasure at his words before he leans in and gives Hob a soft kiss on the lips. Hob returns it with a passion, wanting Dream to understand that Hob has already decided his fate, and that he has chosen Dream. Will always choose him. Each and every time. Hob needs him to understand that. But how..?

An idea forms in his mind, and as soon as their kiss reached its natural conclusion, he pulls Dream towards the church proper.

"Hob?"

"Come, husband," he says, still filled with a giddy kind of joy whenever he says the title. "I want to make something clear to you."

Dream follows him.

A few moments later, the two of them stand in front of the door that would open to the main hall of the church.

"Is it empty?" Hob asks.

"Yes," Dream says. "The midnight mass won't be starting until later this evening."

"The midnight mass?" Hob repeats in shock. "Is it already Christmas Eve?"

Dream nods.

"Good," Hob says firmly. "Even better." He opens the door, and indeed, there was no one inside.

Hob marches them past the rows of votive stands, past the carved wooden pedestal holding the lit advent candles nestled upon a wreath of evergreen, and right up to the altar. Then, with only a moment's worth of hesitation, Hob shoves everything on the altar crashing down on the ground: the book stand, the large Bible it's holding open, candelabras with unlit candles, and a couple of flower vases. He winces as the objects make a dreadful amount of noise, the water from the vases seeping onto the pages of the Bible, the heavy book stand crushing the flowers, the candelabras dented in a couple of places, the candles placed upon them rolling across the floor.

"Is there a point to this destruction?" Dream asks behind him, sounding adorably confused as to why his usually mild-mannered husband is acting this way.

"No," Hob says, then turns back to Dream. He wants to see his husband's face for this. "I just wanted to clear the altar for my offering."

"Your offering?"

Hob starts to strip, and Dream immediately shuts his mouth, eyes darkening as he understands what Hob is trying to do.

"I am offering myself to you," Hob says, and starts reciting Dream's many titles. "--King of Dreams and Nightmares, One of the Seven Rulers of Hell, and my beloved husband. I would have you stake your claim on me in front of all the angels and saints, right at the altar of the god I used to worship."

Dream stares at him, now fully naked and slightly shivering from the cold air, his nipples pebbling. "You do not know what you're asking for, Robert Gadling," he says, though if the echo of Nightmare's voice tainting his is any indication, then Hob knows exactly what he's trying to do. "This would be unlike our marriage. Offering yourself to me in this way..."

"Can I be any more owned by you?" Hob asks, genuinely curious. "Am I not offering you myself, body and soul, so in the future you will not do stupid things like think I would want to be away from your side? Away from our home?"

"You would be offering yourself body and soul to me, Hob, this is true," Dream says. "But you must know that in offering yourself to me the way you are planning, naked and willing upon an altar, you are also offering to bear my children."

"Your chil--" Hob gapes at him and looks down at himself, at his own body, which is still very hairy and very male. "You can get me pregnant?" He asks, only sounding slightly hysterical.

Dream nods gravely. "And now you see why offering yourself this way to me would be unwise. However, I have noted your intention, and will try not to do...foolish things in the future."

"And if I want it?" Hob asks, unwilling to leave just yet without being fucked here, in the place where he went through life like a ghost, upon the very altar he stood behind and spoke words of faith while having none in his heart. He feels his cock growing hard under Dream's eyes, the hunger in them barely restrained. "If I want to become pregnant with your child?"

Dreams eyes are turning so dark, it was like the stars in them have started to go out one by one. The end of multiple universes. "Hob."

"I am willing," Hob says. "And while I am no longer a virgin, I had been when you first--"

"You should not say these things," Dream says in Nightmare's voice, stepping forward into Hob's space. The shadows were gathering around him and slithering around Hob's feet like snakes. "Not unless you want me to fuck you pregnant in the house of your god."

Hob steps closer until his naked body is flush against his husband, precome staining Dream's dark robes, then leans upwards so he could kiss Dream's and Nightmare's fanged mouth. They nip at his lips and push him back against the altar, the stone cold and hard against his back. Hob moans and twines his arms around their neck, letting them lift him so he could sit on the altar. "Haven't you heard, my husband?" Hob murmurs against their lips. "I worship a different god now."

--

"More," Hob begs, an indeterminate amount time later. Dream's cum drips from his hole and onto the altar, but still Hob spreads himself open. "Again."

Dream kisses him lovingly and obeys. Half of his face is Nightmare and the other half is Dream. He only gets this way when he's feeling so much pleasure that both sides of himself come out to play. Hob loves him like this. Dream is generally a gentle lover while Nightmare prefers a hard fuck. But both of them at the same time means petal soft kisses from Dream while Nightmare chokes him with a hand around his throat as his cock jackhammers into Hob.

"Insatiable," Dream says in Nightmare's voice as he thrusts hard into Hob. It's good that the altar is made of stone or else it would have broken under their vigorous fucking. "Do you really intend for me to breed you here? Are you not going to be satisfied until my seed takes?"

Hob moans. Yes. That would, in fact, be the ideal outcome. He spreads his legs wider.

"And to think you had been a virgin when I married you," Nightmare says in Dream's voice, possessive and fond at the same time. "Your hole was so tight I had to spend hours with my tongue between your legs to loosen you up. And now your body knows my cock so well you can take me with minimal preparation."

Hob squeezes him as much as he could in retaliation, though it was a weak little thing, his hole already fucked sloppy and loose.

"What a slutty husband I have," they tell him. "Uncaring that at any point now, the deacons and the sacristans will be arriving to do last minute preparations. I doubt they'll have anything to say about the mess you made on the floor, not when they see a former priest of this church getting fucked like a whore right on top of their sacred altar."

Hob mewls at that, aroused beyond belief. He knows he probably shouldn't feel that way. How he should instead feel humiliation flooding his veins at the thought of being found in such a position by the people who used to respect him.

But oh, to be found pleasing his eternal husband, undeniably marked with his teeth and claimed by his large cock...

"Want it," he gasps. It was so hard to speak and his thoughts are a scattered mess. "Show. I'm yours."

"You want me to continue fucking you in front of them?" Nightmare asks, delighted. "You want me to laugh in their faces as they wield their wooden crosses at me when they try to banish me? Shall I bathe them in flame and watch them burn alive when they do?"

Hob doesn't care. He could barely remember them anyway.

"It is tempting," Dream admits. "I want to see the look on their faces when they realize that Father Robert didn't just disappear mysteriously, but was instead granted a better life. However," and here he grinds harder to emphasize his point. Hob keens, toes curling and legs shaking. He has lost count of how many times he came, but he could feel the pressure building in his stomach once more. He'll probably cum dry this time. Or totally lose control of his body and squirt all over Dream. It's already happened once. "I do not want anyone else to see you like this. Only I should have that privilege. Don't you agree?"

Hob nods frantically. Whatever his husband wants. Fuck, his cock feels so good. Hob wants him to fill him up more until he grows round with his cum.

"No, I think we'll just leave them a nice little Christmas present." And with that, Dream wraps his hand around Hob's cock and starts stroking him to the rhythm of his thrusts. Hob practically seizes, wailing, cumming dry, as Dream pounds him harder through his orgasm before shooting another batch of cum straight into Hob's newly formed womb.

--

When the first group of deacons arrive to make the final preparations for the Midnight Mass, the mess on the floor that Hob created is not the first thing they see. Nor do they notice that the altar was desecrated by a truly overflowing amount of both human and demon cum.

They would have noticed these things, but Dream kept his promise and left them his Christmas present, to help make the church look more festive at such an important time in their liturgical calendar.

He did this by covering every interior surface of the church, from ceiling to floor, and not missing a single statue, with fresh, bright red blood.

[persage]

Remember Me- Steve Harrington

Summary: Every morning Steve shows up at the coffee shop you work in and every morning you hope is the one where the cute stranger will finally talk to you. But it never happens and maybe you don't really need it. Yet, while you wait at the tables with a smile, you can't help but wonder why you feel like you've known him all your life.

Words count: 3.8k

Tags: Fluff and Angst. Post-season4 Steve Harrington / Post War/ Mentions of major character death.

Y/n smells like coffee and lemons. A strange mix that Steve still doesn't know whether its good or not. You move around the shop with a circumstantial smile on your face, a tray in your hands and a green apron used as an impassable wall against the rest of the world, your armor.

Yet you can't take your eyes off that customer, who oders American coffee every morning and sit at the table furthest from people. Sometimes he brings a curly-haired boy with him, other times there's a beautiful girl with big blue eyes - perhaps his girlfriend, perhaps a friend - and with them he smiles slightly more. But he is often alone and clarly wants to be.

You're sorry for that. You don't even know why, you have so much else to think about. You moved in the USA just a few years ago, from your  country you ended up in the middle of nowhere, in Indiana, and when you  arrived you discovered that this place is not as safe and boring as you believed. Strange deaths, accidents, earthquakes, natural disasters like it has been cursed and to be honest you have the feeling of having lost a good part of the time spent here. Now, apart from the fact that this place sucks, you should think about having fun, hanging out with boys, trying to make friends like your aunt says, but you don't. You go home at night and think of a sad stranger and you don't want to, you really don't want to but you do. Silly girl.

"What can I get you sir?" you ask, like every day. When he's alone he usually doesn't reply, he mumbles something under his mouth, looks into your eyes and points his finger at his choice. The menu next to the paper napkins is his voice and you like to listen to it.

"I'll bring it to you right away." There are no smiles between you, even if you would like to. Sometimes you've found yourself wanting a simple "thank you" said properly, not half-mouthed or in a whisper. Yet there's kindness even in the way he moves, the way he isolates himself and it's something you can't explain.

When you place the coffee on the table – a breath away from his fingers – he usually just looks at you. His are not eyes to remain indifferent to. It's not the color that makes them  so special, they're big and dark, but it's their depth, the way they seem to be a portal to that boy's soul, the way they peer into you and seem to contain not a shred of malice and seen too much. They look like a child's eyes, actually. They have something pure, sincere, tremendously tender and at the same time they contain the gaze of a veteran and they defeat you. He looks at you and you are chained. But that's okay, you wouldn't have tried to resist anyway.

He looks at you with something that reminds you of sweetness, hints at a half smile - the first - and this alone is enough to burn you inside,  even if it's snowing outside.

The boy doesn't like snow, he's always in a bad mood when it snows. One day you overheard him talking about it with his friend Dustin, Dexter, something like that. 

"Everytime I fear he is coming back"

"He can't, you know it . We made sure it can't happen again"

"Yes, but at what coast?" and his voice had broken in a yearning way, on the last syllable, like a raging river that you thought you would see burst. When you turned to look at him not a single emotion had appeared on his face. You would like to know what happened to him.

Everyday you look away from him when you realize you've spent too much time staring at him and walk away, ignoring the abandoned baconnotes on the table, silent like him. You feel stupid, a high school girl staring at the mysterious lonely boy. It's ironic and you don't know it yet, but there was a time Steve Harrington was the opposite of mysterious and lonely.

This morning it's different and you don't run away. You linger a moment too long on the marks that can be glimpsed from his shirt, scars on his neck that seem to continue under the fabric of his shirt for who knows how long. You've already noticed some small signs, but usually he's very careful to cover them. Today they are redder and more visible. You notice more scars, these never seen before, on his arms and you realize only now that he has cut his hair and when he moves them you notice and old wound on the left side of his face. 

If he wasn't around your age you'd really think he's a war veteran. You wonder what he must have been through and you don't notice his hand extended towards the cup, which meets yours. For the first time, you feel the contact with his skin, a silent echo of an unexpressed desire. You know nothing about him, barely his name. "Steve" You've heard from his friends. You know nothing of his life; still for an instant you dream of being part of it with all the monsters he must have fought to hurt himself like this. You talk with your eyes for as long as you stay close: you with a silent voice full of questions, he with a single answer. And it's always the same.

To each request, he reacts by moving his fingers, running along your palm and thumb, making red-hot marks that only you can see. You feel them, like burns on your skin, as if you are no longer in the cafeteria, surrounded by people, but in a private place, where every gesture, every touch acquires meaning. And there's no need for him to say anything, you know that today he wanted you to see his scars, he wanted to understand how you would react, he wanted you to see him for real. And you do it, you really see him, and you don't get scared. You never could. You don't know why. 

«Y/n please, could you bring me more coffee?»Another guy asks. He is just another is a customer, an ordinary, common one. Not like him. Just a guy who shows up often, asking you for coffee and smiles. And you're willing to give it to him, you're willing to pretend with the others but not with Steve, with him you only smile when you really want to and it's absurd that in his presence this happens more or less always. 

"Sure! " Breaking contact  with Steve seems more tiring than studying for the last exam, more painful than finding out you didn't pass it. You feel yourself blush as you bow your head and flutter your eyelashes, tucking the tray under your arm. Sorry, you say in one last look, ready to leave him. But he grabs your wrist with the delicacy that distinguishes him, making you turn around again. Blush again.

"I'm Steve." I know, you would like to answer however you avoid doing that. It's the first time you can hear his voice right, with words articulated slowly, fearlessly, spoken for you and you alone .

«Y/n.»

Steve runs his thumb along the inside of the wrist before letting you go, in an almost automatic gesture that he seems to regret immediately. A Last, anxious caress, which reveals what his eyes have always hidden.

"I know"

These words are the most exciting thing you've heard in a while. Suddenly you understand why Steve comes in every day, stealing a look and a few minutes of your life. Or so you believe. You feel a shiver running down your back, turning into a burning caress - the one you would like from him - and going up your spine, up to your ears. It's hope. 

You don't know how or why, you feel as if you already know him, as if in another life your skin has touched nothing but his, and you don't even believe in these things. Maybe he feels the same, the same overwhelming nostalgia for something you haven't even experienced. You hope you're right, you hope he comes here every day  just to see you, to search for a contact that happened by chance - by mistake - and to show you his tormented gaze of him, looking for the peace that he has lost in you. 

«I'll bring you some coffee» You say to another customer, looking at him without seeing him.

I have to talk to Steve. I can't let him go. Not like that. You hurry to get the hot container of coffee and reach the customer's table, dedicating a smile and a moment of your life to him. A moment that he could have, or should have, dedicated to someone else.  "Are you on duty again tonight?" You almost don't hear the question, taken as you are from another table, another customer, one different from the others. Your mind is only on Steve. "Yes," you say, glancing at Steve to make sure he's still there. He is. You suddenly feel calmer. "But only until six."

"It's already dark at six" the boy observes. "I could take you home..."

"There's really no need to, thanks." You walk up to the counter to put the container away. You hear the doorbell ring, and feel the brutal urge to turn around. 

Steve's table is now empty.

*

At six o'clock Steve stares at you from the misted window as you untie the ribbon on your apron, take it off and disappear into the back of the shop. He knows you're tired and you just want to go home. He knows it, because it's the first thing you always said to him after the shift, in another life: before Vecna, before the war, before you forgot about him forever. 

You put on your coat, gloves and wool cap, and say goodbye to your colleague. "See you tomorrow." You pull the scarf up on your chin as you open the door.  

After the war with Vecna and the disappearance of the Upside Down, even the climate has changed. The ice covers the streets, leaving just two gray trails to show the asphalt. There are very few cars parked outside the cafeteria, a badly parked red BMW stands out, it's the only one not covered in snow. Steve smiles seeing you, he holds back from calling you, enjoying the image: a colored spot in the whiteness of winter. You puff. It's cold, and you have to walk home, your high boots sinking into the white blanket, the houses still to be rebuilt across the street are the only sign of the drama Hawkins has experienced. An earthquake so strong that it has destroyed everything. You have been hurt, a head injury big enough to steal a piece of your life. A piece so important that you're only retrieving the fragments of your life here, tales of your aunt, your friends, which for some reason never seem to fit right together 

"Hey." A male voice calls you. You keep moving forward. It is not the first time that some stranger tries to approach you .

«Y/n.» You turn around, you see him and suddenly the snow and the cold disappear and the world is a warm and beautiful place. Steve. "Hello, y/n." You take a step towards him and stop, as if you've dared too much. "What are you doing out here?"

 With this wheater. You think you know the answer. And you hope to hear it from him.

"I'm here for you" Would be the sweetest music. But Steve shrugs, makes an embarrassed noise, pulling his jacket around him. You seem to notice a redness on his cheeck, you wonder if it's not just the cold. "What does it mean?" You ask, letting out a smile, tossing your tied hair. Steve's eyes catch yours, in a silent response that seems to be enough for you. For a moment everything is as before for Steve, you are only you and he is only him and in your eyes he finds the girl he fell in love with during a war that you shouldn't have had to fight. 

You arrived like lightning a year ago alongside the only friend you managed to make in the city at that time: Eddie Munson, and you were the first -together with Dustin- to try to prove his innocence, with all that this entailed: including demobats, Upside Down and Vecna. Now you don't remember anything, and maybe a little part of Steve is happy you don't have to carry the trauma with you, but you don't remember the good things either. You don't remember Eddie. When you look at his old posters or find his photos on the newspapers, to you he is just the killer who terrorized the city and you don't mourn his death. But you did it, you did it until you lost your breath, screaming at the top of your throat in the middle of the darkest night. Steve had to drag you from his  body by force, against your punches and kicks. You melted into his embrace, you vented the pain with such force that he feared your bones might break from the powerful sobs that shook you. Steve lulled you into a tormented sleep and watched over you. And then there was Max. The list of fallen soldiers got longer. Murray.Hopper, again. Will.

And Robin, oh, Rob. 

You were the only thing keeping Steve alive after that. When his best friend fell into his arms, Steve wanted to die and for a moment he stood still, ready to let himself be taken by the same cursed monster that stole Robin from him. But you were there and you needed him, he had to keep you alive. He had to think about Dustin.

Then he lost you too. In a different, unexpected way. When Vecna took you, he thought you were going to die, because the music wasn't playing and you were floating in the air and he, he looked away, like a coward, he gave up. He decided he didn't want to see you die, not like that. He regrets it every day. All he did was prepare to grab your lifeless body, imagining that he would be the next one to die. He couldn't live in a world without Robin.

 But in a world without Robin where he didn't even have you, it was torture, hell. The world was shaking again and the earth was cracking  and Steve desperately wanted to die. But you fell into his arms still alive and breathing and Eleven had killed Vecna and all you had were broken bones and a head injury from the pressure exerted by that monster. Steve didn't know it at the time, but you also had a brain injury, something strong enough to erase everything from the last three years. Everyithing about him. Your family, despite being aware of the situation, has decided not to tell you anything, to keep you away from them, from Steve.

 After all if it wasn't for them you wouldn't have been involved. Also Steve promised to protect you and he didn't. He had failed you , as he did with Robin.

Dustin has kept him alive, keeping him company in the months of solitude spent locked up in his house. Nance forced him to eat every day and Erica, Erica remained silent next to him for hours and that was enough at least for a while. Then, at a certain point, Steve saw you from the shop windows, you were working, smiling. 

And it wasn't enough anymore.

The sky is black, the streetlights barely lit up the street, yet you can understand more about Steve right now, looking at his face wrapped in half-light, than you ever guessed during these endless mornings. «Y/n» your colleague opens the door, investing you with warmth and light, so much so that you lower your eyelids.

"Sorry... I saw you out here. I just wanted to let you know that I'll come early tomorrow so you can go home early." You nod as the door closes. When you turn to Steve, you find him closer than when you last looked at him. You see his breath condense between you and join yours. Heat mingling with heat, and desire meeting desire. Steve nods at the BMW.

"I... I didn't mean to scare you, I just... I can take you home if you want." 

There is a fire inside you, even if you can't explain why. You should be scared of an unknown guy who comes to your workplace every morning and now silently approaches you to offer you a ride home on a dark winter afternoon, but the truth is that Steve makes you feel so many things and fear it's not one of them. You think that this is his car, that the car says so much about people, that you want to see what he keeps inside it, the objects that are important to him. There is probably his scent inside it. 

Steve smells good, clean.You know, you just don't know why.  "That is fine." 

"Steve, can I... Can I ask you a question?" You ask after a few steps in silence. He nods, keeps walking, his arm against yours looking for even the slightest contact. He needs it, or else he'll sink. He needs it to keep himself on his feet when dark comes and in the streets he sees the faces of his dead appear. When your bodies touch, over layers of fabric, you feel your skin melt and you wonder if maybe you're crazy. "Why me?"It's a strange question, you know, you're a little ashamed of it, and you're afraid of scaring him but you feel, somewhere inside you, that maybe he has the answer you were looking for, the missing piece in your story. Or maybe it's just an illusion. He turns around, his gaze softens and he observes you like the answer is the most obvious thing in the world. Because there is no other girl.

 He doesn't say it, he can't. He doesn't want to mess with you, he doesn't want to lose you again and scare you. 

"You know y/n, I've never met a waitress as good as you." 

You laugh, putting a hand over your mouth. "You're an easy guy to get Steve Harrington"

He opens his eyes wide and you don't realize it but is'shere, clear, limpid: Steve has never said his surname. You don't notice, not really. You keep walking beside him. "Thanks," you whisper as you let your arm slide, intertwining it with his. What would it be like to really feel his skin? 

Warm. Rough in the points furrowed by scars, soft in the rest of the body. To Feel the sensation of  naked flesh on your lips, the scent of laundry, the saltiness of his body, the pulse of the vein on his neck, where you place a kiss that isn't there, never was. It's a fantasy that looks a lot like a memory. It scares you. "Let's go." He exhorts you, with shyness and a touch of fear his hand moves to your back and your body is warm under his gaze. His breath is against his cheek, slips under the scarf, up to your neck."Yes" he says, holding his breath. It's cold, but not that much, not now, not for you. Not when you feel Steve's nose against your ear, not when he notices your twitch too. Steve closes his eyes, tries to refrain from telling you everything, from holding you tightly to him, it's so difficult now that he has you close again to resist, to keep a distance that hurts and he doesn't want. "Are you cold?" Steve asks  in a low voice, but for you this question is so much like the caress you've been craving since you became aware of his presence in the shop, since you met his gaze."Not at all'."

You feel Steve's smile on your cheek and you feel like you're. You just turn your head, just to give him the opportunity to reach your lips, but Steve doesn't kiss you, he's still with his eyes closed and who knows what he thinks of you, looking for a kiss from someone you don't even know

."You smell like coffee." The words are an incandescent breath on the mouth. His breath join yours,  you can feel the the taste of him – mint and aftershave – before you even smell it, like you've never tasted anything else in your life. 

"You don't like it?" Thrill after thrill, waiting to discover something about him that you don't know yet. Everything, you have to find out everything, but it seems to you that you have known him for a lifetime."I love coffee" You know he is lying. You just know. But you don't care. Just one question goes through your head and in order not to give it a voice you decide to shut your mouth in the best possible way at the moment. You shiver a little when your lips are close to him. You trace his cheek slowly with your lips, waiting for the moment when he pulls back and tells you you're crazy. You look for the right way to kiss him. 

"I don't usually do that. You must have something very special" You whisper against him. And Steve can't take it anymore, like a dam that breaks its banks, he pushes you completely against him, as if you were one. And then, finally, he finds his way. When he kisses you – slowly at first, giving your lips time to get to know each other; then devouring your every thought, as if nothing else exist but you – you find yourself repeating to yourself that you don't want to kiss anyone anymore. Touch no one anymore. Let anyone kiss and touch you except from Steve. 

"Steve" You murmur breathlessly, pulling away from him. "Would you think I'm crazy if I tell you something?"He shakes his head, his lips swollen and beautifully red. "Never"

"I knew you before, didn't I?" Now Steve Harrington no longer has the strength to lie.Steve Harrington has come to get his girl back and far off in the dark of night he swears he can see Robin Buckley smiling at him for it.

[moosemonstrous]

Tagged by @doreyg, thank you!

No pressure tags: @ulfrsmal, @kermit-coded, @rokhal, @swaps55, and feel free to steal!

How many works do you have on ao3?

38, I'm the opposite of prolific 🫡

What’s your total word count?

164,872

What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

stillness of remembering, what you lost and what you had (kalluzeb), amid the voiceless mountains (tbb), with open arms and with open doors and today is always gone tomorrow (FH3) - so Star Wars and a big video game series, no surprises there!

Do you respond to comments? Why/why not?

I don't necessarily mind if a writer doesn't respond to my comments, but it's not like I get an overwhelming amount either so it's hardly an issue to shoot off a response.

What's the fic you've written with the angstiest ending?

I suppose Boundary (BG3), after a fashion. I tend to get Into It with the really angsty ideas and they don't end up published very often.

What's the fic you've written with the happiest ending?

thoughts compressed (ANGR) still gets me sappy on a reread, but I reckon what you lost and what you had takes the cake. Old bastards get to see the end of war! It's probably for the best I never wrote a follow-up.

Do you write crossovers?

AUs, more like. I tend to have a preference for one side over the other, so calling the results crossovers feels... incorrect.

Have you ever received hate on a fic?

Not a lot!

Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

The kind that will mostly never see the light of the day 😂

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Nah.

Have you ever had a fic translated?

Nope. Every now and then I promise myself to write something in Polish, but it would just be for the sake of it and I don't know that I've got the patience anymore.

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Other than some primary school notebook adventures, I suppose a better part of the Ghost Rider AUs were co-written with @wazzappp 🥰 But in a more traditional sense, nope.

What's your all-time favourite ship?

I go for a specific dynamic rather than characters, so it really changes every time I get into a new fandom! Currently it's amareyes. I suppose my preference is that the blorbos kinda hate each other to start with.

What's a WIP that you want to finish but don't think you ever will?

The fuck-off massive Midnight Suns fic that's frankly grown too big to handle, and that terrible Rex-centric Clone Wars retelling that was going to be so sad you guys that I ran out of steam on. I open the wip files sometimes in vain hope they'll have tied themselves off when I wasn't looking.

What are your writing strengths?

I like to think I occasionally get the character voice just right.

What are your writing weaknesses?

Finishing. Oops. I know what should happen, the words just won't go :(

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

Shrug. Anything can be done if it's done well.

What was the first fandom you wrote for?

Oh my god if we go for the FIRST-first one... Yeah I dealt exclusively in crossovers as a kid, why limit myself to one 😅 It would be some wild mixture of Saint Seiya, Slayers, FMA and Soul Hunter. In many notebooks. First one I published would've been for W.I.T.C.H., although the forum it was on ceased to exist a very long time ago. First AO3 fandom was Mass Effect.

What's a fandom/ship you haven't written for yet but want to?

I'd love to one day have the confidence to write a Discworld fic and sincerely believe it adds anything to the fandom. Ship-wise... look somebody has to write the first Robbie/Guero fic in the tag and I'm not opposed to it being me.

What's your favourite fic you've written?

in spe salus (sw), I think I got Wolffe down pretty well. Although after-school special (angr) has my favourite paragraph in it.

[im-akira]

Joel Miller x F!Reader | 𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑𝐒 | 🌿

Chapter 1 : The Present | Chapter 2 | Summary

Series Summary : Joel Miller is no longer the same man after losing his entire family, except his little brother. A few months later, after saving Ellie from the Fireflies. He now lives in a community of survivors with Ellie and her younger brother, Tommy.

He has only one goal, to ensure his own survival and that of those he loves. Until the day he crossed paths with a young woman and her son in the community. The young woman’s face was particularly familiar.

Are you and Joel strangers or are you a lot more than that ?

Warnings : Mature content angst, smut, romance, blood, violence...

Do not : Claim, Repost, Copy, or Translate my stories anywhere else.

Notes : This is the first chapter. I apologize in advance if my writing is not perfect, but I will do everything in the future to make you cling to their story. We all deserve a chance, don’t we ?

PS: Sorry if I couldn’t tag everyone but I didn’t expect so many likes on my post, thanks again you’re all adorable!

Good reading anyway! 😊

I apologize in advance but English is not my mother tongue. 💙

~*.♪。★*・゜・＊♪*.♪。★*・゜・＊♪*.♪°~

Joel and Ellie have been in a big community for a few months now. Since the end of the trip, the relationship between them has deteriorated slightly. What happened to make these two sometimes bother to talk or even smile? Joel lied to Ellie, the young teenager said that Joel’s words didn’t seem very clear, not even sincere. Because of her choice, Ellie who wanted to be the vaccine for all mankind could not be. Joel sees Ellie as his own daughter, he couldn’t help but put his fears first. The fear of losing someone again, for him that would not have been possible, not now, ever again.

Now let's talk, how is it in the community ?

Although Ellie sometimes dodges Joel, the young teenager continues to do her best to help people in the community. She also joined the patrol team responsible for protecting this unique place. Every day, every morning or every evening, Ellie and the other young people of the community go out in groups to fend off the infected they encounter on the way or those who try to approach Jackson.

Joel does pretty much the same thing to her as Ellie, he helps others improve and keep this place safe. He always watches Ellie when she goes on patrol, even if it turns out that she avoids him, Joel does not let go. He does everything not to break this special bond. It is perfectly clear that being forgiven in her eyes will be very long, if not impossible when she faces the truth. But he would rather have hope than have nothing to cling to.

~*.♪。★*・゜・＊♪*.♪。★*・゜・＊♪*.♪°~

As soon as the sun rose, Joel and Tommy went on patrol. Apparently, a group of infected has settled in an old abandoned town not far from Jackson. The two brothers have the responsibility to take care of it. It has been several weeks that the infected seem to be more and more numerous. After a few kilometers through the great forests of the region, Joel and Tommy are finally at their destination.

- « Damn, they seem a little more than the number we were given before we left. » Joel leaves his horse first, he crouches down and hides behind a concrete wall. He doesn't take his eyes off the infected group and at the same time he makes a plan.

- Tommy joins his brother near the concrete wall, he equips himself with his rifle and watches his brother come back to him. He crouched down and whispered so as not to draw attention to them. « We should try to take them out one by one. Going for it won't work this time. »

- « Sometimes you shouldn't be afraid to face fear. But today I choose to pass my turn. » Joel lets show a slight smile and comes in turn to equip his shotgun.

- « Well, here's what we'll do. I'll take the infected on my right, you take care of those on your left. » After he finishes explaining his plan, Tommy gets up and looks over the concrete wall so he can observe the infected.

- « OK, I'm walking for your plan. » With a quick movement, he straightens up and comes to the left of the concrete wall. The infected do not seem to have noticed their presence, for the moment in any case.

- « I go first. Go a few seconds after me. » Tommy met son rifleon his back and then comes to equip himself with his hunting knife. It moves slowly and stalks an infected who seems quite agitated but far from others.

- « Okay, let's go. » Joel in turn leaves the concrete wall, he keeps his shotgun in hand in case of emergency because the situation could turn around at any time. He equips his other hand with his knife, with a light step he advances towards an infected person who has moved away from the group, he seems motionless. The infected that Joel hunts is called a Clicker, he's not the worst infected but if Joel makes the slightest noise the Clicker won't hesitate for a single second to jump on him and kill him.

- Tommy comes to attack the first infected he's been tracking for a while. With a quick gesture, he comes and puts a knife in her head. The infect's body falls to the ground, near Tommy's feet. « And one. » He glances quickly at his brother's direction, because now everything seems normal. He retraces his steps and takes back another infected by killing him too.

Joel comes to put his shotgun on the ground, clenching his fist and still keeping the hunting knife in hand, he slowly approaches the Clicker. This one is back to Joel. The more he advances, the more the pressure builds in him. It may have been 24 years that he fights against his horrible things, Joel is still afraid of ending up like them one day or another. He gets up slowly so as not to make a noise and moves forward a little. When he put his foot in front of him, the silence broke. A small branch is under his shoe sole. The noise resounds with the hearing of the Clicker, this one turns quickly and comes to turn his head from right to left. Joel doesn't move anymore, he gently points his hand towards his pistol. The Clicker screams and quickly lunges at Joel. "Shit !"He quickly aims his weapon at the Clicker's face and fires.

- Tommy finishes eliminating his fifth infected and comes to wipe his knife against the fabric of his pants to remove the blood there. That's when he hears a shot coming from the side where Joel is. Tommy doesn't waste a second and runs to join his brother. « Because of this shot, the other infected will move towards us. I have to join him quickly. » Tommy arrives on the scene, aims his gun at the head of an infect who comes up behind Joel and fires. The infect's body falls behind Joel.

- « Thank you, little brother. »

- « You're welcome. Next time, try to be quieter. »

- « We're going to have visitors in not very long. »

- « I think so, thanks to you. » Tommy hears not far from them screams of infected which seem to come in their direction.

- « Now is not the time, little brother. » Joel also hears the screams coming from the town. So Joel equips himself with his rifle again and puts his hunting knife away.

The infected people leave the city one after another. Fortunately for the two brothers, there do not seem to be very many of them. But that should in no way let their guard down. Joel and Tommy stay away and each uses their shotguns to end the infected. After firing a few rounds, Joel grabs his rifle from his back and takes his pistol to his hand. As for Tommy, he also puts his rifle on his back and comes to take his bow. The two brothers have stayed far away and face the group to infect. After a long fight, the two brothers decide to land in one of the houses in town.

- « This one seems safe, stay on your guard anyway. » Joel advances slightly crouched and his weapon ready to fire. He enters the first room that comes to him.

- Tommy walks around the house. To be sure that no surprises await them, whether outside or inside. « I think I've done the rounds of this house correctly. » After observing the perimeter, Tommy returns to the horses. He takes the reins in each of his hands and leads them to the house where Joel is.

- « I think we can install them inside the garage, what do you think ? » Joel demands.

- « Yes, they will be safer inside than outside of this city. » Tommy comes to give Joel the reins of the horse, then he takes care of his own in the garage of the house. « Stay here, big boy, I won't be long. » He stows his gun and his bow in the saddle of his horse. Taking to finish his bag with him and returns after his brother.

- « You need a cleaning plan. » He keeps it in his hands and then goes to the garage door which leads inside the house.

- « Let's go to the living room. I have something important to tell you, Joel. » Tommy walks up behind Joel into the living room, sees a small table, and decides to sit there. He puts his bag near him, at his feet.

- « What do you want to talk about ? » Joel takes his turn, a couch facing his brother. He puts his guitar right in front of him so he can clean it properly. Then taking an old rag out of its bag and begins the dusting. His attention was entirely dedicated to Tommy.

- Tommy moves his fingers in all directions. He tries to relax a bit and throws himself. « A week ago a group of survivors surfaced in Jackson. Some people suffered only minor injuries, but no bites. With the exception of one young woman, she suffered a fairly serious leg injury. »

- « And so, who is so important in what you are telling me ? » Joel continues to clean parts of his guitar using his rag.

- « The young woman's name is Y/N, she also has a son, James. She has a lot of physical resemblance to your wife, Joel. » Of course, he insists on the pronunciation of first names and ends his sentence in a dry tone.

- Joel suddenly stops what he was doing. His eyes don't leave his guitar and the rag. « What are you trying to tell me, Tommy ? That my wife and son might still be alive ? »

- « Maybe it's just a coincidence. But my intuition tells me that they are not just anyone. » Tommy had his eyes straight on Joel, he wanted to make him listen to reason. Even if it wasn't his family, he still had to try and make sure.

- « You know as well as I do that they are unlikely to be alive. Y/N took James to the hospital and I never saw them again. » After getting a big inspiration, Joel resumes cleaning his guitar.

- « Joel, you have no proof that they are dead, nothing. » Tommy doesn't look away from his brother. Like Ellie, he knows he has suffered a lot, losing loved ones. Seeing this opportunity for his brother, Tommy can't help but be happy if it's ever true.

- « I don't need proof to prove that this world is violent and harsh at the same time. People like me don't have the right to that kind of luck. » He shakes the cloth faster and lowers the guitar to continue cleaning.

- « I have something for you. When we come back to Jackson, if they're there, you'll see for yourself. Y/N stayed in the infirmary all week because of her leg injury. She should normally be outside today. »

- « If I accept what you tell me, will you drop the case ? »

- « I'm not doing this to annoy you, Joel. I'm doing this to help you. »

- « I know this very well, little brother, but understand me, believing in this kind of hope in this world leads to nothing but false hopes. » He lifts his guitar and gets up from the sofa where he was sitting.”Well, it's getting late, we should get out of town." He tucks his rag into the back of his jeans pocket.

- « Yes you are right. Let's not hang around. »

The two brothers leave the living room of the house and go to join their horses. Both gallop through the town, it seems very calm now. Calm, Joel is only asking for this at the moment because the patrols are sometimes over several days, which gives him little time to rest and take time for himself. On the way back, the two brothers did not speak to each other. Tommy there well seen and understood, Joel is a little disturbed because he has just learned.

- Joel pulls away from Tommy slightly and mutters to himself. « It is impossible, impossible that they are still alive. After all this time, how ? Why now ? »

- Tommy trots forward, turning to look behind him. He notices that Joel has stepped aside. He pulls on the reins of his horse and waits for Joel to come back to him. « And ! Joel ! Jackson is over there ! » Tommy tries to get his brother's attention.

- Joel hears Tommy's words and comes to after getting lost in thought. « Yes I'm coming. » Giving a stirrup, Joel's horse accelerates and manages to join Tommy again.

- « Everything's good ? » Tommy asked with a slightly worried look.

- « Yeah, don't worry about me. Let's keep going, Jackson's not far away. » Joel walks past Tommy and lets a slightly lost look appear on his face.

22 years without news, and overnight he learns that perhaps the rest of his family is alive. Even if it's Joel, this kind of news can change any man.They finally arrive in Jackson after a few round trips through the local forests. Joel sometimes likes to stop and just observe the landscape around him, it reminds him of the good old days.

They each imprint the big door to be able to return to Jackson. Tommy descends first, Joel does the same and dismounts. Tommy takes the two horses to put them in their cabin. Joel still keeps his guitar on his back, he comes to get his bag that he had hung on the saddle of his horse.

- « Are you going to take a trip to the infirmary ? »

- « You really aren't giving up. Yeah, I'll take a look. »

- « Well, I won't bother you anymore then. If you ever look for me I'll be at the stables. »

- « Okay, that's noted, see you later. » He leaves the entrance to the city to go to the infirmary. Once there, Joel's gaze focuses directly on the entrance to the place. A mother with her son comes out of the building, it must be them.

- « You should watch your leg, mom. »

- « Don't worry about me, James. Your health is also important, this is the week when you have eaten almost nothing and have not even had time to rest. »

- After hearing the conversation, Joel's eyes can't help but touch the little family. He slows down so as not to lose sight of them and get noticed. « I have to stay away. » Muttered Joel under his breath.

- The young woman puts her arm on her son's shoulder and sticks to it so as not to fall. « If you don't mind, I'll use your shoulder so I don't strain my leg. »

- The teenager smiles at his mother and shakes her hand to help her stand. « Home isn't very far anyway. We'll take care of the boxes later, right ? » He asked his mother.

- « Yes, the cards can wait. I have an idea, to kill time. You just have to play me the song on the guitar that I taught you last time."

Joel remains quiet and aloof so as not to arouse suspicion. His hearing tried as best he could to understand some words, but nothing, it was too far.

- « Mom, you know I still have trouble playing. »

- « Yes, that's why I'll be here to help you. »

- « All in all, I prefer to put myself in the storage of boxes.» The teenager laughs lightly after finishing his sentence.

- His mother comes to join him and also lets out a laugh after what he has just said. « It's up to you, the boxes or the song. »

- The little family finally arrives home. James pushes the door open and lets his mother go first. Then he comes back and closes behind him. Jacques felt a strange sensation, like a gaze directed towards him. The cool wind is blowing, he looks up and sees a man a little further away. « Mom, that guy over there, do you know him ? »

- The young woman turns around with difficulty but succeeds. She looks at the motionless man who is not far from them. « No, he is not a member of our group. »

- Joel backs up and retraces his steps after being noticed. « Damn, I'll have to try another approach. » He leaves the area with a normal attitude, even after the scene that had just occurred.

- « Maybe he had to look for something or someone. » The young teenager does not dwell on the presence of this man. He walks to the front door and takes the house keys. He inserts them and opens them. « Do you want help climbing the stairs, Mom ? » He asked.

- The young woman advances with difficulty but manages to join her son at the entrance despite his leg injury. « As you can see, I did it alone. » She smiles at her son and enters.

On Joel's side...

- Joel walks on the way back to his house. He's got his mind busy since he saw that woman and her son « I have to find a way to get closer to them. » He mutters and finally goes home. Passing in the back, Joel sits on a plastic chair and equips himself with his guitar. His fingers caress the strings of it, a sweet tune comes out.

If I ever were to lose you

I'd surely lose myself

Everything I have found dear

I'm not found by myself

Try and sometimes you'll succeed

To make this man of me

All my stolen missing parts

I've no need for anymore

I believe

And I believe 'cause I can see

Our future days, days of you and me

- Joel finishes his song, keeping his guitar against him he comes to caress the wood, a sigh escapes his lips. « It was the song of our little family, Y/N. »

~*.♪。★*・゜・＊♪*.♪。★*・゜・＊♪*.♪°~

Tag : @wolfieellsworld @rosemirrors @dayane245love @bronwennsblog @mel9151 @lafemme-nk @elwrotes @celebficsnooneaskedfor @cyrusandhiscollaredahirts @aestheticallyboys @hummusxx @brebrehaynes @mikimambo @venusbee4 @hotshotbuttercup @introvhurts @sweetly-yours-and-mine @yunhospuppysblog @charlesalexgeorge @swagmobile-420 @bruhzzzsworld @mooomeadows @yartsthecarts @superflymaterial @acuumulated @valvebone @ourprisma @paige96 @sugasugamybeloved @julkaamazing @lol-im-done @hazeharrington @spideyromantic @rickysgrimes @ida444 @lex0613 @a-mean-lesbian @melssra @fandom-addict19 @s-ajia @thebluesloth98 @twinklecheeks @becca193 @the-last-shiv @forest4les

If you want to be marked on my future stories, let me know in the comments. Thank you again for reading ! 😊

[pineappleparfaitie]

Saw all of this go down after the fact and it pains me to see so many people treating this whole situation as "drama" as if they want it swept under the rug as soon as possible. It doesn't surprise me as someone who's been in this community for a while and has seen this sort of thing happen before. But that doesn't excuse the fact that this is totally disrespectful to you and it completely undermines the gross treatment that you had to endure. You didn't deserve any of this. Absolutely no one does. And I wish the community would go out of their way to protect their own, or at the very least hear your voice, especially after you've explained everything in clear detail. I'll admit I did like a post from one of these bigger creators before looking at what happened, but as soon as I learned what about what was going on, I realized my mistake. And I apologize for that. The audacity of these folks with big followings to tell people to ignore this only adds salt to the wound, whether it was intended or not. And I can't really forgive them for that, knowing now what you've been through. Lumping this under drama is utter bs, and you should be treated with the respect that you rightfully deserve as a human being.

I really feel bad for what you are going through right now. And I'm mad at a lot of folks for treating you like crap too. I sincerely hope that you will find healing from all of this. And please take a break if you feel like you need to. Mad respect to the wonderful folks who support you, they are the real ones here.

You have my full support, too. Please, hang in there. Signed, an artist you've probably seen before.

Whoever you are thank you. I am upset about it too I regret putting stuff in sfw vore tags cause it hurt people and it was MY OWN FAULT this became drama . AGAIN had I not put shit in sfw tags this probably would have been taken better.1 post and it all went to shit. Im only hoping now I can clear up this stuff properly and give a full story on my own end to just. Say it all. Again thank you so much whoever you are im so grateful for the support please send some support to Zet (Opikarts) as well the guy got fucking manipulated and taken advantage of and it caused shit to get worse. Thank you,again.

[delopsia]

Babydoll | Rhett Abbott x Reader

Word Count: 5,200 Cross Posted Here on AO3 Warnings & Notes: 18+, Fem!Reader, unprotected sex, vibrating plugs (used on the reader), a bit of voyeurism, and Rhett fucking you against the hood of his truck ❤ with a big bonus of tall! Rhett. He's roughly a foot and a half taller than you, regardless of your height :) I sincerely hope that the anon asking about Rhett using toys on the reader has a fun time with this one.

The entire Abbott family runs large. You'd known that from the moment you laid eyes on them, how the crowd had parted like the Red Sea as soon as the Abbott brothers appeared from around the corner. You still remember the shadow that was cast over you when Rhett stood next to you, so tall that he didn't even realize you were there until he'd bumped into you.

It comes from Royal's side; he always prides himself on that particular notion; you wouldn't be surprised if you found out they descended from fantasy giants entirely. Poor Cecelia has already warned you that they're born big too. 

After a year and a half, you would think you'd adjust to the sheer size of Rhett, but even as you lay eyes on him now, you can't help but find yourself struck by it. Among the many advantages his height provides, he's a damn beacon in public. Lost? All you have to do is look for the tallest man around. 

There was one instance where he tagged along with you and some of your friends on a shopping trip, and you'd all gotten horribly lost. Until someone sent a text saying to gather by Rhett, and one by one, you found each other. Rhett says you look like a bunch of ants, but you know he gets a kick out of watching it happen. 

"Don't tell me that you managed to lose me," chuckling, Rhett comes to a stop just a few feet in front of you, and even with this distance, you still have to tilt your head up to look him in the eye. 

You're going to need a chiropractor. 

"Only for a minute," you step toward him, standing on your tip-toes to meet him for the kiss you know he's quietly wanting, "did you find what you were looking for?"

"I have now," and he's barely able to dodge the light smack that was meant to land on his chest. "Kidding," he lifts the bag he's holding, "they had one bottle left of my cologne."

A high-pitched beep rifles through the air. A shop's anti-theft sensors going off, but that knowledge doesn't strike you until after you've attempted to jump out of your skin. Rhett chuckles, his arm sliding around your waist as he places himself between you and the door. You already know what he would say if you asked why he's doing that, 'just in case.'

"Haven't found anything you like in here?" He asks, has to raise his voice to be heard over the still-beeping security system.

Aimless, your eyes flicker about the room for the umpteenth time. Traveling over never-ending displays of bras, panties, and delicate lingerie that come in every color and material you could ever dream of. Things that look cute until you get closer and see their price tag or realize that they're just not meant for your body type. 

Ironic that you're in one of the biggest lingerie stores you have ever seen, and yet you cannot find anything more than two pairs of buy-one-get-one-free panties. 

"Not as much as you'd think," with a sigh, you lift your hand to show what you've scavenged, "I can't find much that would look good on me." 

Rhett's eyebrows raise, "now, I don't believe that for a second."

"If you think you can find something, be my guest," you and your wallet are content with these two things, even if your ego has taken a little bit of a hit. 

Turning, Rhett's eyes flicker about the room, scanning, and if you listen close enough, you think you can hear those gears turning in his head. Searching for something that he's inevitably not going to find, you've already combed through these isles twice.

Beckoning you with a finger, he starts walking. 

Advantage number two of Rhett's height; he sees things you don't.

Even from a distance, you hadn't seen the babydoll that he ultimately leads you to. Simple in design, with an open front and a dainty bow that sits between the cleavage. It comes in a variety of colors, but the one Rhett hands you is your favorite color. You know that's by no mistake. 

"It's soft?" He offers, almost as a justification for his choice. Though if you think about it, you're pretty sure he's only mentioning that because he's verifying to himself that the material won't make you uncomfortable. 

He's been wary of material ever since Perry bought Rebecca lingerie for her birthday, the cheap scratchy kind that you find on a clearance rack. You heard Rebecca yelling all the way from where you were in the barn, sneaking the horse's some sugar cubes with Amy.

It's surprisingly soft; even as you trace the seams with your hands, you can't find a sign of anything that would make you uncomfortable while wearing it. There's a matching panty tucked along with it, equally soft and matches so well that you almost hadn't realized it was there. 

But...

"I don't know," you frown, still looking at it, "I'm not sure if this is going to look good on me."

Someone is trying to step past you, forcing Rhett to step closer to you in order to let them by, his chest unintentionally bumping against your shoulder. Only serving his next intentions, it seems, because his hands cradle your cheeks, drawing your head up to meet his eye, "now, I don't believe that for a second."

He says it with such confidence that for a few seconds, you catch yourself believing him. But insecurities cannot be washed away with a simple arrangement of words. The roots are in deep, you're both aware of that, but that has never stopped him.

You peek down at it again, fumbling with the material to find the price sticker. Surely this can't be cheap—

Rhett covers the tag with his hand, blocking the numbers from view, "don't you worry your pretty little mind about that."

He tilts his head toward the fitting rooms, wordlessly asking you to at least give it a try on. If there's one thing he's figured out about shopping for clothes with you; it's that you never know until you've worn it once. Thinking for a moment, you run your hand over the material once more. It is cute...

"Alright," lifting up the underwear that you're still holding in your hand, "but you'll have to hold these for me." 

They just about disappear as Rhett takes them from you, suddenly minuscule when compared to his large, calloused hands. Lord, you're never going to get used to that. 

Everything about this man is big. From his hands to his smile, his horse, and his old flannels that you like to steal whenever you're given the opportunity...

"Y'alright?" Shit.

Shaking your head free of wandering thoughts, you nod, "yeah."

The fitting rooms are empty, devoid of any employees or customers. If it weren't for the large 'open' sign that you step past, you'd almost think they were closed. 

Although he very well could follow you into the room, Rhett settles onto one of the chairs, content to wait there until you call him over. Big blue eyes follow as you step into one of the small rooms. 

Sometimes you wonder if he's not just an oversized golden retriever. 

The baby doll is even softer than it was on your hands, hugging your body so gently that you already loathe the idea of taking it off. It's flowy, falling to and ending at your upper thigh. With an asymmetrical hem that gives it an almost whimsical feel. 

Knuckles lightly knock on the door, once, twice, pause, then a third time. "You get lost in there, doll?"

Spinning to get a better look at your reflection in the mirror, the babydoll flowing with the motion, "I feel like Tinkerbell."

"Tinker who?" 

Sliding the deadbolt back, you open the door just a few inches, peeking up at him but not quite letting him see the rest of you just yet. "What's the password?"

Slow, as if unsure, he leans down and pecks your lips. 

Well, that wasn't what you meant for him to do, you were hoping for a simple 'please,' but you'll take it. You don't have it in you to tell him that you weren't asking for a kiss, not when he smiles so proudly to himself.

You step back from the door, allowing it to open on its own.

As soon as Rhett's eyes land on you, they start to crinkle with a soft, dopey smile. Always so mesmerized by you, no matter how many times he's seen you like this. He fumbles with the door as he steps inside, too focused on you to pay attention to the deadbolt that he's blindly fiddling with.

"What do you think?" Offering him a dainty spin, enjoying the way the material brushes against your legs as it settles. 

His eyelashes flutter, "would you object to me buying you one in every color?" He's reaching for you, but he catches himself before he can so much as brush his fingers against you, hand falling limply to his side.

"No," reaching for his hand, "but I think your wallet might." 

Gently, you lift his hand from his side, guiding it to settle along your waist. Blunt nails trail along your sensitive skin, light but firm enough to keep you in place as he steps closer. 

For the briefest of moments, your eyes meet, flicking back and forth between each other's lips with such hesitance that you aren't sure if he's wanting to kiss you or if he's marveling at how you look. 

Tentative lips press to your forehead, then drop down to the bridge of your nose, the scruff of his chin brushing against your skin as he presses a kiss there too. He drops lower, mere centimeters away from your lips, as he hesitates, looks into your eyes once more. 

Reaching up, you gather a fistful of his hair and pull him down to meet you, swallowing down his surprised grunt. The force of it has him stumbling, pushing you backward but never once breaking it, even as he backs you into the wall so quickly that you feel yourself start to stumble. 

The hands holding you by the waist don't let you fall, they never have, and they never will.

Tracing along the curves of your body as he kisses you, open-mouthed and slow, tauntingly so. Completely unyielding to how you try to urge him faster, gives you no choice but to kiss you so slowly that your head starts to spin in, struggling to breathe through your nose. Molding together so wonderfully, despite your differences, like he was made to do nothing but hold you in his arms and kiss you like this.

"So beautiful," he murmurs, voice hoarse against your lips, "don't know why you'd think anything different."

Your reply is cut short before it's even formulated inside of your head, distracted by the unmistakable sensation of a jean-clad thigh pressing between your legs. Your head falls back against the wall, lungs burning as you pant for a breath that you can't seem to catch. On their own, your hips writhe, squirming against his thigh until there's just enough pressure between your legs to have you gasping for more than air. 

One hand grasps you by the neck, holding you there as he nibbles at the meet of your jaw, "that's you go," he drawls, "I know you like my thigh, sweetheart." 

It's hard to focus on moving your hips when he's soothing over your reddened skin with his tongue, chuckling so deviously when you let out a little frustrated grunt. 

"Does my baby need help?" Twitching his thigh upward, satisfying that ache between your legs, "hm?" The most you can offer him is a nod, suddenly unable to formulate the words to voice a simple 'yes.' 

All of a sudden, Rhett's stepping back, pulling you along with him until you're situated in the center of the room. Like a toy, he takes you by the hips. Spinning you around and pulling you against him, giving you no choice but to look at your reflections in the mirror, chest so firm and solid against you that it feels like a wall. 

"Rhett—"

"Just look yourself in the mirror, sweetheart," he tells you, husky, "I've got you." 

He dips down between your legs, cupping your sex in his warm, large hand. With his middle finger, he traces up and down the outline of your folds, pressing gently against your entrance when he passes over it, the thin material barely stopping him from entering. Up and down until you feel yourself starting to drip from his taunting. 

Kisses press into your temple, "is this what you want?" Pushing against your entrance, gracing you with only a ghost of what it could be. You're nodding your head instinctively, pushing your hips toward his touch. "Use your words, doll."

"Please," your voice strained, struggling to keep quiet; these changing room walls are thin; one wrong sound and someone could catch on to what's happening. 

Luckily for you, Rhett's not on one of his 'louder' benders, and you can already feel him pushing your panties to the side, one finger dipping in to feel you. Swirling around your clit, once, twice, before slipping back down and finally easing inside. 

Such a simple touch makes you shudder, squirming against his chest as you watch through the mirror, slowly being spread open by his thick finger. It's already curling, searching for a spot that makes you jolt as if a live wire has touched you. 

You can practically feel his smile as he leans down and squishes his cheek against yours, "look at you," he says, meeting your gaze in the mirror, "takin' my fingers so well."

The sight you find in the mirror is just obscene. Not only from the way his veins bulge in his forearm as he fucks you with his finger but also from how far he has to crouch down to your level. 

Just a few pumps of his finger before a second one eases inside, your body still stretched from last night, soft walls yielding so easily. A sight that you can only barely see, the thin material of the babydoll concealing what Rhett's hand is doing between your legs. 

"Rhett," keening as his thumb presses against your swollen clit, not moving, merely letting you feel him touch you there. 

"What is it, darlin'?" He whispers, lips so close to your ear that you feel them brush against the shell of it, "do you need more, hm?"

Those thick fingers press against the little rubbery spot along your walls, deliberately stroking it over and over. Enough to make your thighs start to shake, squeezing tight around his hand as he continues to fuck you on his fingers. 

But it's not enough, no, no, you still need more. "Want your cock," you mewl, "please."

"Oh, baby..." pressing a kiss into your cheek, "I wish I could give it to you, but we're in public."

On their own, your hips twitch toward his hand, a frustrated grunt slipping from your mouth, "mean." 

You don't expect him to pull his fingers out from you completely, shimmering in the light as he draws his hand from your clenched thighs. A protest is already boiling up on your tongue, but he holds up a singular finger before reaching into his coat pocket. Plastic rustles, and then...

...there's your vibrating plug, the bright pink one that is just a hair longer than the other ones that you own. 

In the back of your head, you get a sneaking suspicion that he's planned this, but it's hard to think too hard about it. Not when he nudges it to your lips, silently asking you to wet it. Parting your lips, you allow him to nudge it into your mouth, tongue swirling along the underside. Your jaw aches from the stretch of it, unused to the size. 

Rhett doesn't let you play with it for long, and you don't miss the hardness you feel against your backside, straining against his jeans. It seems that just as you grow used to the weight of it against your tongue, he's drawing it away. Sliding the thick tip between your folds as he guides it to your dripping hole.

"Be a good girl for me," he coos, "and I'll let you have my cock when we get home." 

The sensation of the toy breaching you has you gasping, clamping a hand over your own mouth to muffle the noise that you find yourself making. He's pushing it in so slowly that you cannot think of anything but the way it stretches you, centimeter after centimeter until it's bottoming out.

As soon as it's in, Rhett straightens back up, pressing a kiss into the top of your head, "good?" 

The most you can provide is a nod because the 'yes' that forms on your tongue comes out as a mere whisper. But that's enough for him, doesn't press you any further on it.

You're thankful that he helps you out of the garment you're trying on because it's growing increasingly hard to focus when the toy inside of you presses so sweetly against the sensitive spot inside. Rhett's nothing but caring, helping you step back into your original clothes and tucking everything back into the right places. 

"Just let me take care of you, yeah?" He tells you before you can even begin to protest; yeah, he's planned this. 

You forgot that you had a grocery run planned for after the two of you left the mall.

It's been so long since you last went shopping that the pantry has become a barren wasteland, devoid of everything but ingredients like flour and sugar. The two of you have been eating out for a solid week to avoid going to the grocery store. There's no way you can avoid this, not without going hungry until the next time you leave the house.

"What's got you looking so upset, Princess?" Rhett asks, shutting the truck off. 

"I forgot we had this grocery run," you didn't mean for it to come out so pouty, but by the time you realize your tone, you've already said it.

From the driver's seat, you think you see Rhett melt just the slightest bit, smiling sweetly as he leans over to give you a kiss, "'m sorry, darlin'." 

The first time he does it, you're meandering through the dairy section. The slightest waddle to your step because the thick toy inside of you makes it hard to walk as you normally would. When all of a sudden, you feel it buzz to life.

Your whole world comes to a screeching halt, squeezing your eyes shut at the feeling, shit, shit, shit, you forgot Rhett had an app on his phone to control this stupid thing. 

"Havin' trouble, there?" He asks, placing a hand on the small of your back, "hm?"

Just as quickly as it came on, the toy shuts off, leaving you throbbing and aching for more. Would Rhett protest if you asked him to fuck you in the bathroom? 

"Mean," is all you can reply, still yet to open your eyes, "you're so mean." 

Rhett chuckles, hand dropping to lightly squeeze your ass, "you love me for it."

He gets you again while you're hunting down your favorite frozen foods; one minute, you're walking just fine, and the next, you're clamping a hand over your mouth as the toy starts to vibrate. And as if he's completely innocent, Rhett sidles up behind you, "feel good?" He asks, sickly sweet. 

Thank God there's nobody else in this aisle. 

"More like torture," grumbling under your breath; these frozen peas are so cold that they're starting to hurt your hand, but Rhett's left the cart a few steps away. The toy shifts with every step, just barely stimulating your clit; it's only four steps, but by the time you place the food in the cart, you've found yourself panting, clutching the edge of the metal cart. 

Again, the toy shuts off, and you're left aching for something that isn't even enough. 

You're waiting in the checkout line when he turns it on again. You don't even see him touch his phone, and you're so caught off guard that you can do nothing but lean into him and hope your legs don't quiver right out from under you. Such a frustrating feeling that offers you so much stimulation but not enough to make you cum.

"Gonna have to stay quiet, darlin'," Rhett murmurs, looking down at you with such fondness that you're surprised he doesn't have comical heart eyes. 

To anyone else, you merely look like a sleepy girlfriend, resting your head against your cowboy's chest as he holds you by the waist. With nothing to do but wait for this line to move up. 

"Don't suppose I can get you to wear that little baby doll when we get home?" That experience feels like it was a millennium ago. 

You shake your head, "it needs to be washed." 

The devilish smile on his face is so big that you can feel its menacing presence. "And it's going to need to be washed after I'm done with you, too."

It's a miracle that you get out of the grocery store alive. 

---

There's traffic going back home. Cars lined up for what feels like miles upon miles, not budging. You're lucky if the truck moves a foot every few minutes. It's so dark outside that you can't see far ahead, either; there's no hope of figuring out why traffic has stopped the way that it has. 

"You alright?" Rhett asks because you keep squirming around in your seat, incapable of finding a position that doesn't drive the toy further up inside of you. It's not that you dislike it, but...

Shaking your head weakly, "it's starting to hurt." 

His face changes so quickly that you don't even see it happen; in the time it takes you to blink, his expression becomes washed with concern. It's not hard for him to figure out that it's the toy that's hurting you, too. It felt good at first, but now it's pressing so hard against your walls that they're starting to throb with something that isn't pleasure. 

Pushing the console up, he beckons you closer, "'m sorry, baby," peppering your cheek with feather-light kisses, the kind that tickle and force a smile on your face, "do you want me to take it out?" 

"Please." Just like that, he's urging you to part your legs, just far down enough that his warm hand can slip between your legs, disappearing under your skirt.

"Shit, baby," now it's Rhett's turn to be gasping, "you're soaked."

The toy twists inside of you as he fumbles for purchase on the material, so slick that he can't get a very good grip on it. Slowly but surely, it eases out of you, leaving you to clench futilely around nothing but air. There's a plastic bag stored in his jacket pocket; you can only assume that it's what he carried the toy in because that's exactly where he places it. 

"Better?" He asks once it's put away. 

Whining, you sink into him, "I guess." It's more of a disappointed tone than anything; you can't help it; you're sore, still needy for something that seems never to come. 

But it's hard to be bothered for long because two long fingers dip inside of you, stroking shallowly, filling you back up just a little bit. Not trying to make you cum; just there to soothe the ache of being empty.

Traffic starts to move, and the closer you get to home, the more Rhett's fingers start to move. Thrusting in and out of you with the wettest noise, brushing against your abused and sore sweet spot, never directly pressing against it. Your hips are squirming on their own, conflicted between wanting more and wanting him to stop because fuck, you want to cum so bad that it's all you can think about, but home is still so far away. 

"Rhett," you plea, jolting as he turns a finger against the gummy spot inside of you, "can't you just pull over and...!"

His jaw wires tighter with every noise you make, the muscles bulging under the effort. He's thinking about it, considering. God, why did you decide to rent a house that's even further from town than his family ranch? You're only just now starting to pass the land, which gives you roughly ten minutes before you arrive home. 

The truck slows as Rhett retracts his fingers from you. Even with the headlights on, you can only barely see the tiny dirt road that he turns into, the rest of it completely concealed by the darkness of the night and overgrown grass. Just as the main road becomes lost in the rearview mirror, the vehicle comes to a stop. 

"Can't believe you've got me wrapped 'round your tiny little finger like this," he mutters, the door creaking open; then he turns, offering you the softest of smiles, "come on." 

You have no memory of when your feet hit the ground, but suddenly you're stumbling toward the front of the truck, guided along by Rhett's firm grasp on your wrist, fingers still wet from being inside of you. 

"Look at you," placing his hand between your shoulder blades, Rhett pushes you down against the hood of the truck, "God, you're just drippin' for it, ain't you?" 

Just barely, you're able to turn your head, cheek pressed against the warm vehicle, as you peer back at him, "Rhett." 

"Hold on, doll," it's hard to miss the sound of his buckle clinking as he opens it, "I'll take care of you, I promise." 

Just as he says it, the blunt tip of his cock bumps between your legs, making you jump. He repeats it, slapping his hard length against your needy cunt once, twice, thrice. On a normal day, he'd tease you with it a little more, but there's no room for teasing right now, not when you've been aching since you left that mall.

Even with his fingers and the stretch of the toy, it still feels like you're being split wide open as his head slides inside. It's obscene how big he is, how slowly he enters you, always feels like the first time all over again. Agonizingly slow, inch by thick inch. The hand between your shoulder blades forces you to stay put; can't wriggle back and get him in faster, can't squirm away; the only thing you can do is take it. 

"Good girl," he breathes, "just breathe and take it for me; you're almost there." 

The further he eases in, the tighter wound you become, like a spring under too much pressure, every muscle, and fiber in your body frozen. But then he's bottoming out, hips flush against yours, and it punches the breath from your burning legs.

"Aw," pressing a kiss into your shoulder, "baby, you're shakin'." If it were anyone else, you would think they were poking fun at you, but this is Rhett. The man who would give his left arm to have you exactly like this, the man who loves to ruin you so nicely that nothing else can satisfy you. 

He's drawing out of you all the way, leaving just the tip inside, groaning at the way you clench around him. Then, slowly, he sinks back in, just a fraction faster than before, fuck, you're so full that you can't think straight. 

Again, he repeats it, that same steady, deliberate motion that makes you feel every fraction of him enter. Stretching you out even further than he did on the first thrust inward, and you just know that you're going to be sore once he's done with you. 

"You better hold on," Rhett warns, right into your ear, "don't think I can't hold back with this little pussy," he draws back, only to snap his hips right back into you as if to emphasize his words, "just beggin' to get fucked."

Stars sparkle in your vision as he does it again, pushing you further up the hood of his truck. You're scrambling, searching for something to hang onto as he does it again and again. Until he takes pity on you and removes his hand from your shoulders, grasping yours instead, pinning it to the hood. 

The action changes his angle just a hair, and on the next pass in—

"—Rhett!" You cry, "fuck, there, there, there, please, there."

True to his words, his pace changes, the truck rocking with each heavy thrust into your dripping pussy, his plush head hitting your sweet spot just right. Quick, unrelenting, no time to recover from each pass over the soft spot, stimulating it over and over. Your eyes are only half-lidded, pliant as Rhett fucks you just as you'd hoped he would.

"This what you needed, hm?" He hisses, mouth absolutely filthy, "your cowboy's thick cock in you?" 

Wickedly, his hips come to a halt on their next pass in, not pulling out. No, he only pushes harder, forcing you up onto your tip-toes to avoid him taking you right off the damn ground. You can't help the pitchy whimper it works out of you, fluttering weakly around him. 

Then he's moving again, jumping right back into that same damn pace that punches the breath from your lungs with every motion. The world around you growing fuzzier with each pass of his head against your sensitive, swollen walls; you're close, but you can't—can't reach down between your legs—

"Gonna cum inside this tight little pussy of yours," it's not a warning; it's a promise, "pump you nice and full until you're beggin' me to pull out." 

All you can do is kick your hips back toward him. Oh, does he get the message because he reaches right between your parted legs, where his cock is still pumping in and out of you. The pads of his fingers drawing tight circles into your swollen, neglected clit. They don't even make it three circles because all of a sudden, you're cumming right then and there.

Your body goes taut as it wracks over your body, quivering and gasping for a breath that you can't catch as he fucks you through it. Eyes rolling back, can't process a single thing other than the way Rhett's cock rams into your pulsing cunt and how good it feels.

"Sensi—ah!" Limbs growing tingly as he keeps going, hitting every oversensitive spot he can possibly find, "Rhett—Rhett please—!"

His hips stall. 

The first splash of cum inside of you has you jolting, so sensitive that you can feel every spurt of it as he paints your walls pearly white, and it just keeps coming. What little space left inside your cunt, now filled with him as he swears into your shoulder, crumpling down on top of you as he comes down from his high.

For a moment, the only sound in the air is the dance of your heavy breaths, intertwined so wonderfully that you can't tell what is coming from who.

Then, Rhett starts to chuckle, "damn, girl, didn't even let me get you home first."

"Your fault," smiling, you lean into the kisses he's peppering with, "you're carrying me to the shower, too, Cowboy." 

You don't need to look to know that he's rolling his eyes, "of course, babydoll."  

[mrfancyfoot]

Plots & Prosody: Prompts

Raphael x Evie (f!OC)

.

- Good Morning - "Raphael has turned into Evie's unexpectedly enthusiastic guinea pig as she's wrapped up in the grueling project of (re-)inventing cell phones and the internet. Turns out the devil likes 'Good Morning' texts."

This prompt was: ‘A good morning text’

Rating: T-ish / SFW Word Count: 590 Timeline: Plots & Prosody, Part II (before 'A Blank Page') - Canon Tags/Warnings: POV Raphael; Fluff; Humor; Fantasy Tech; Modern Girl in BG; Raphael Learns How to Text; Yes, This is Same-Year BG3; Raphael is Down Bad; Devil Courtship; He's a Silly Devil <3

Main Fic (Rated E/Varied): AO3 + Tumblr | Master List Related Prompts: A Blank Page , Caress , Supreme

[Quick Context: After Evie spends most of Part I (Game Events) ‘befriending the devil,’ yet denying him her soul, Raphael makes an alternative offer: the Orphic hammer in exchange for her time - specifically, a mandatory number of days every month for a span of two years.  He procures his Crown by other means. Evie goes about her new life kick-starting her business and re-inventing modern-day things - for which she makes Raphael a bit of a prototype tester. Unbeknownst to her, Raphael is using what she believes is a “contractually mandated friendship” period to court her as his future Archduchess.]

I apologize for this being a pinch unrealistic - Raphael doesn't immediately devolve into calling Evie slurs when she doesn't reply within 2 minutes...unlike many of the gentlemen in my dating app inbox. 🙃

❤️ Thanks for reading! :3 ❤️

Good morning, love.

Good morning, dear.

Good morning, dear fox.

Raphael tapped at the tiny letters and symbols across the shiny surface of the small communication tablet.  Shaking his head, he was unsatisfied with any of the salvos coming to mind.  Chin in his palm, he drummed his fingers on his desk.

[Good morning.]

There.  Simple.  To the point.  Enough to ensure that his presence was kept at home in her mind even when he was not physically with her.

When no reply was forthcoming, he felt himself growing impatient as he gazed upon the surface of the device with undivided attention.  Within her thorough demonstration of the device the prior evening, Evie had shown that these messages could be sent and received instantaneously but only his own words illuminated when he touched it.

Remembering then that she would be yet asleep at this hour, it was concluded that perhaps he was being unreasonable.  How unbecoming to be so eager.  He would allow her the appropriate time and await her return salutation.

Though he caught his eyes occasionally flicking to the tablet for anything new as he toiled through his work, it was a few hours later that he noticed its slight cerulean glimmer.  A reply from her in glowing text was now below his sent message.

Evie: [Good morning - I hope your day is stellar! :D ]

Ah, a wish for him to make grand achievements throughout his day.  He would expect no less of the one he courted than to have the highest of expectations!  She would then be pleased to know that he had already accomplished much this morning. His lips curled into a smirk as he carefully formulated his words.

Dear, Fox.

Too informal.  Yet he could not be too formal.

[Dear, Evie-] [My day has raced off to a phenomenal start!  Over my morning kaeth alone, I have finalized nearly two dozen contracts, and I expect to close on thrice or more before the day’s end in preparation for conquest.] [I have a number of meetings scheduled with my generals today.  I shall begin my march on Zariel’s forces within the tenday.]

Sincerely.

Regards.

Cordially.

Too cold.  Not intimate enough.  He was addressing his intended not some common petitioner or mark - though he supposed she was a mark of a different sort…

Ah!

[Yours,] [R]

Her next response lit the tablet faster than he could return his mind to his work.

Evie: [Nice - good job!] [That’s exciting!!] [So close already!!  Y’all have got this!]

Delighted by her enthusiastic approval and encouragement, his pride swelled powerfully within him.  He would hear her sing his praises to him and before all once he imminently became Archdevil of the First!

[Dear, Evie-] [Your encouragement vitalizes me!  Soon, I expect I shall have much more to report.] [Until then, I look forward to our impending time together.  I have a few surprises in store for you.] [Yours,] [R]

Evie: [Uh-oh, surprises?  I shall anxiously await!] [And you don’t need to be so formal over text] [+ you’re gonna hit my current character and storage limits sooo fast lol] [I know it’s you, silly ;) ]

The rapid responses did lend to a more casual flow of conversation. Rather than letters, it was akin to the passing of notes.  He would format his own to reflect hers.  With that in mind, he fired off his next, desiring clarification.

Raphael: [Explain :D and ;) ]

Evie: [A grin and winky smile] [ :) ] [ :P ] [ ;) ] [They're smilies!] [and lol = laugh out loud]

He understood - it was maddeningly obvious in retrospect.  She was including mimicries of faces, expressions.  To aid in conveying tone?  Thus, she was flirting within her last message and wanted to ensure that he recognised it as such!

His eyes scanned the available letters and symbols to craft one of these tiny symbol faces of his own.

Raphael: [ ];) ]

[comfort-character-central]

Hihihi hello there!! I sincerely hope you don’t mind me sending in this ask, I wasn’t sure where else I could ask this and I’m just hoping somebody out there has some advice!!

See, my f/o is the sidekick to the protagonist in the most recent instalment of a game franchise, and he dies at the end of the game. The problem is, the company this franchise is from NEVER brings back older characters/sidekick characters, and my f/o is in only one game and the next game in the series is about to be announced any day now, so I guess my question is;

Do you or anyone else have any advice for coming to terms/“grieving” your f/o never coming back to the source material?? He doubles as my special interest too, so I guess I’m just scared of people and the series as a whole moving and forgetting about him entirely?? (It doesn’t help that he’s not an especially popular character either). I’m not sure if it’s just the classic case of autism and fear of change or what, but It’s been giving me a good deal of anxiety but it’s such a niche problem I’m not sure who to ask for advice on it

Again, I’m terribly sorry if this isn’t an appropriate ask to send/if I should take this kind of question elsewhere!!! Your blog brings me a great deal of comfort and helps alleviate said anxiety an INSANE amount- thank you for all the work you do, and thank you for answering in advance <<33

Hello, anon! Firstly, thank you so much for being vulnerable enough to send this in, it can be difficult to open up. I can do my best to provide some advice or comfort for this!! No need to apologize (also, characters are one of my two special interests, so I am definitely not judging!!)

I'd say that finding things that make you feel connected with your f/o may help. Maybe you have a playlist you like or a collage of their vibe, aesthetic, the bond y'all have, etc. Whatever it may be, finding something to remind you of that happiness or positivity without associating it with canon. What happened doesn't necessarily need to be significant!

Filter/block tags if needed, I feel like this may be an "out of sight, out of mind" sort of deal, where if you're not reminded, maybe replacing or removing specific things that remind you of it (with better things about your f/o, or just even limiting how much you see it) will help you think about how great your f/o is rather than what happened.

Validating your own experiences can also help, your feelings matter, and others have felt this way, too! A lot of the time, things like this in canon aren't always acknowledged, and that's okay! You can validate yourself and act as if it wasn't something that occurred! But regardless, your f/o will always exist as they were created, even if there are no "updated versions of them", there's still the fact that they were created in the first place! Thank you so much for the compliments as well, anon, I hope my words can help, I apologize if my articulation wasn't the best. You are valid, and I hope you have a good one!!! <3

[ivomartins]

helloo omg it's vivi i just noticed that you answered the asks (while scrolling through hsr tag i need the update so bad i can't live like this)

dogging on hs is a full time job and we're employees of the month 🤞 ntm on hs tho bc i will end up playing hs3 if it's ever released bc i need to see my li happy.

im new to rc so i can't say much about the writers but i think what you said does make a lot of sense. when new characters were introduced in hs2 it had the same tone as hs1. i would say there was a slight improvement bc astaroth and hunger were 10x more interesting than hs1 characters but the dialogue and their way of speaking was the same as hs1. like how do you pride yourself on being soo much better than mortals and speak exactly like them? why are you, as lucifer, speaking like a frat boy? make it make sense.

anyway, as opposed to hs, the immortals are actually different from mortals. lane noticing the lack of human warmth and emotions on cains face, despite how serene and aristocratic he looks right off the bat immediately showed us that they're not easily understood and they operate differently than humans. and the dialogue flows so much more naturally in hsr and different characters have their own distinguished way of speaking. (interesting that cain sometimes speaks so formally like during the church scene, but at other times uses mortal slang. just how long has he been roaming around earth?)

tbh now that ive analyzed the flying scene, he does seem somewhat sincere and like you said, they're both only looking out for themselves so they have a sense of kinship. (also love that lane is so unbothered about saving humanity or whatever and specifically said shes only going to translate what she needs... im obsessed with her)

but is it insane of me to hope that he's just being nice for the sake of using her? ive been ranting to everyone who would listen about how much i adore the church scene, it was the exact balance of unsettling and sensual, psychedelic and dreamlike. it had so much tension and i loved how cain was portrayed in it. but he's being suspiciously sweet and protective of her, cute, but i miss the tension 😭 he and lane are some of the most interesting characters ive seen in a while and id hate for them to lose everything that makes them unique to a generic romance so early.

what about your theories on how they could've known each other earlier? and what do you think about cain's past?

not this entire ass essay 😭 i love a good religious horror media what can i say. since ur just as obsessed w hsr as i am it's fun talking to you but this is a lot to think ab and reply to pls take ur time 😭💓

(ps to answer what you asked about choices, i haven't touched it since i got back into rc 🤞)

we truly are the pioneers of hs shit talk and i love this for us <3

i chuckled at your comment about lucifer talking like a frat boy because why is that so fucking true 😭

it really is just in the book's nature i think because if you look at the massive growth of alice's writing between hs1 and hs2, it's wild how the writing for hs2 still isn't that much better except in certain areas (hunger is masterfully written, for example, and the emo vibe was captured pretty well too since alice is an angst grandmaster)

like heaven's secret is simply, intrinsically, a haphazard low-quality story - because that was the foundation in hs1 and so it's only natural hs2 and hs3 will be the same. and i'm not hating on it when i say that because i definitely get why some people love it but as someone who's a bit of a snob and doesn't like harry potter vibe stories, it's just not for me

i'm living for your thoughts and analysis of hs:r though omg i didn't catch on to cain's manner of speech swinging between formal and informal, that's so interesting?? but YES overall i'm also hoping that we'll get more of the intensity we got with the church scene and that the dark undertone to their dynamic will prove to be an actual Theme and not just a one-off thing. i would actually GRIEVE if cain's route devolved into basic lovey dovey shit 😭

have you checked out dmitry's scenes? what did you think of them? 👀

when it comes to cain's past and his history with lane, i... have no clue tbh like that's just how good the suspense is. generally i'm expecting cain to be somehow tied to the event/entity/power that caused lane's memory gap because her dreams are clearly very significant and she dreams of him at the start of the book + that could be the reason why she got so woozy in the church scene instead of him seducing her with his power, because of whatever tie that binds them through that. but we know so little about him and his motivations that it's hard for me to theorize anything about his past. i adore pre-established dynamics though so i honestly think we're in for some juicy shit regardless of our theories. i can't wait!!!

shut up i lived for your essay and gave you one of my own pls 😭♥️ you're totally good!! i'm having just as much fun chatting with you angel <3

i haven't touched choices since the nanny affair 😭 though i do miss the good OG books sometimes ngl like open heart s1 remains ICONIC and forever in my heart and also the werewolf book uhh i forgot its name but it was sooo goood. there's not even a comparison with rc though whew it was such a huge upgrade for me especially since i started off with arcanum of all books - truly could not put it down