#…makes me want to do something. no worries if not though! anyhow this piece is fabulous and i am officially out of tags XD

[solalunar-eclipse]

To everyone in the comments begging for a fic about this: PLEASE go read Heart of Gold with Blood-Red Eyes!!! It’s by this artist and features Shadow in a similar dynamic with Fleetway Super Sonic, and it is fantastic.

[percyluvr]

Hiii,i love your blog and your writing sm and that’s why i wanted to be brava and make a request!If you like the idea,can you please write a Percy imagine were reader is the daughter of Thetis(the water nymph/goddess and mother of Achilles)and she is the one that helps Percy with his water powers?Like they bond over that and fall in love with each other?Thank you very much!🩵🩵

percy jackson x daughter of thetis!reader summary: percy meets a nereid; the rest is history wc: 2524 note: thank you so much for reading my works, i'm vv glad u love my blog & i hope i could do this request justice. i wasn't exactly sure if her kid would be a demigod or a nymph, so i thought because i haven't really seen any fics w a nymph!reader, i would get a lil creative w it! i do know that achilles was considered a demigod, but i figured maybe her female children would be nereids(?)

Percy had been claimed as a son of Poseidon about a month ago at this point, and he was desperately trying to understand his powers. When he was claimed, he assumed that it would be easy to harness the power of the sea, since, well, his dad was the literal God of the Sea. Unfortunately, it was not coming as naturally as he had hoped and assumed it would, and so he now found himself swimming in the sea near Camp Half-Blood, searching for someone or something to help him get a leash on his powers.

He tried contacting his dad, to no avail; now aimlessly swimming. The only thing that had truly come natural to him was the ability to breathe under water, which was helpful now, since he didn't have to keep coming up to the surface for breath and could now just focus on finding help.

It'd been about 2 hours of just what others would consider mind-numbing swimming, but Percy enjoyed it anyhow.

He eventually found himself face to face with a young girl whom he would consider one of, if not the most beautiful person he'd ever come across. Though he was a son of Poseidon, Percy swears that he found it increasingly difficult to breathe. The longer he looked at you, the more and more aware he was that he was underwater, and all he could think was 'I'm a son of Poseidon and I'm going to drown, and because somehow it can get more embarrassing than that, I'm going to drown in front of a beautiful girl and she's probably going to laugh and I'm never even going to get to know her name or hear her voice, which is probably the most heavenly thing anyone would ever get a chance to hear and-'

His thoughts are broken when he hears you speak, and somehow your voice sounds even more heavenly than he had assumed it would be.

"Hello, Perseus," you say, smiling, and Percy thinks that his heart might just burst into a million little pieces that will eventually drift out into the water surrounding the two of you.

"Hey, hi, um," he struggles to assemble his thoughts into a coherent sentence.

"Take your time, Perseus. You will not run out of breath, as I believe you thought you would just a few seconds ago," you speak, fighting the urge to giggle at the silly boy that has found his way to your home.

"Um, first, you can just call me Percy, if you want. Second, I know I won't, I was just, uh, distracted for a second. And third, I'm here because, embarrassingly enough, apparently the fact that I'm the son of Poseidon doesn't matter to this water, which will not do anything I want it to unless I'm in a life or death situation, which does happen to occur quite often, so really I'd probably be fine, but I would sort of like to be able to have the comfort of knowing that I can actually use these cool powers that every tells me I have," he rambles. "Sorry, that was kind of a lot," he concludes.

"Do not worry, I followed along quite easily, actually. Anyhow, if you require assistance with your endeavors, I am here to aide you. When I'm not busy helping your father at the castle, that is," you offer.

"Really? I mean I was hoping you would say that, but I wasn't sure you would. But yeah, I'll take you up on that, thanks," he flashes you a smile.

"Wonderful. Feel free to stop by or call my name into the water, and I'll hear it and come to you if I'm able."

"Right, uh, not to be rude, but uh, what's your name?"

"Ah, right, I forget how you demi-gods don't bother to learn the names of the Nereids anymore."

When you tell him your name, you believe you see his eyes glisten in adoration, unless, of course, you're making that all up in your head because the boy in front of you is way cuter than you had ever imagined when you had just heard his name being thrown around by the gossiping Nereids around the palace.

"Well, then, Percy, you should be on your way. I have things to be doing now."

"Right, bye then. Thanks for, y'know, offering to teach me pretty much everything," he says bashfully.

"Of course." He begins to swim away and all you are left with the ability to do is wave as he slowly gets farther and farther away.

𓂃 𓈒𓏸

It'd been not even a week since Percy had been, in his descriptions to his friends at camp, blessed by your presence, and though the two of you had barely become acquaintances, he found himself missing the sound of your voice and the odd, in his opinion, outdated way that you spoke.

This type of yearning for a person's presence is not the type of yearning he feels for his mother, Sally, and so, this feeling is quite new to Percy. Of course, as a teenage boy, he doesn't know how else to manage this intense feeling, so immediately he goes to the beach and calls your name into the water.

"Hello, Percy, I can't say I'm surprised that you're this eager to harness the power of the sea. I was also very invigorated when I first learned of what was possible once at one with the sea."

"Am I not already one with the sea? My dad is literally the God and King of the sea. And are you not also one with the sea from birth? Aren't Nereides water spirits or whatever?"

"Ah, Percy, you misunderstand. You are not born one with the sea, even as a Nereid. You must prove to the sea that you are not afraid of it, and that you will not take advantage of it. It may takes days, or weeks, but I suspect that you will do just fine."

"And how exactly am I supposed to prove that?"

"You will see," you said cryptically, and before Percy could object to this statement, you were gone, and he was staring out into the clear blue water of the Atlantic Ocean.

"Jeez, when someone offers to teach you, you would think they would actually teach you something and not just say some weird cryptic stuff and then disappear," he grumbles to no one in particular.

𓂃 𓈒𓏸

Of course, you were correct in your assumption that Percy would quickly prove to the sea that he could be trusted to harbor its power. He manages to form a ball of water the size of a fist before losing focus, leaving the water to splash back down and become one with the sea again.

However, he was not discouraged, and in his invigorated state, he calls out for you without even realizing it.

"Hello, Perseus. I see that I was correct," you said, a bit smugly, Percy must say.

"Yeah, yeah. Will you actually teach me now?"

"Indeed. I wanted to be sure that you were competent enough for my help, so I do apologize for how ominous my words were."

"You're all good. I do have a question though, and feel free to try to drown me if this is rude."

"Do proceed with your inquiry." At that, Percy nearly bursts out laughing at how much you sounded like an office e-mail from someone's annoyed boss, but managed to somehow keep composure.

"Uh, why do you talk like.. I don't know, so formal. Aren't you my age?"

"I do apologize. I do believe you are older than me, which may come as a surprise to you. But to answer your main question, I talk so 'formal' because that is simply how everyone at the palace speaks. I suppose we do not have much contact with anyone outside of the ocean, and so we have not picked up on all of the latest dialects and ways of speaking."

"Well, I guess that makes sense then, my bad."

"Do not worry."

"So, uh, do I get to learn more about 'harnessing the power of the ocean' or whatever now?"

"I suppose now would be as good a time as any."

"Cool, cool, where do we start?"

You lift your fist into the air, a large section of water rising into the air and forming into the shape of a large sea turtle, forming into different animals as you rotate your hand in the air.

"Are you able to do that? Even a basic animal shape would be fine, but if not, we must begin, well, at the beginning."

"Oh, man," he grumbled

𓂃 𓈒𓏸

It'd been a few months of you popping in a few days a week to assist Percy with his ambitions, and he was finally able to wield the power of the sea like he once hoped he would be able.

However, September was rapidly approaching and Percy would soon have to return to school, meaning he would not get to see you nearly as often, which certainly put a damper on what was already a terrible week leading up to the start of the wretched school year.

And so, he resolved that the two of you would talk every day until he had to leave. He didn't care that he had progressed past the point of needing your help anymore, he just wanted to be in your presence for however much longer possible.

It was nearly instinct at this point for Percy to call your name out into the sea, and he was not one to fight it.

"Good to see you, Percy. But as I'm sure you're fully aware, you do not need my tutoring anymore. Perhaps I'm getting ahead of myself, but I do believe that you've even surpassed me, and that doesn't come as a surprise," you praise.

"I don't know about that, but I am pretty cool now," he says jokingly.

You smile. "But uh, I didn't call you for practice, I just thought that, uh, that maybe we could just hang out, y'know? I mean you did help me a lot, so I figure why not give you some company outside of all those old people or whatever back at the palace," Percy admits.

"That doesn't sound horrible. You are quite interesting, I would like to get to know you more as well. And yes, I could use some time away from my fellow Nereids at the palace," you sheepishly say.

"That's what I thought. Hey, by the way, you never told me who your parents were. You know who my dad and mom are, but I don't know either of yours."

"Ah, my mother is a bit more obscure nowadays, as she's not one of the Goddesses that the Greeks traditionally worship as they do the Olympians. She is a water nymph, but also a Goddess, and unfortunately is no longer worshipped in the same proportion as she was in Ancient Greece," you sadly explain.

"Huh, that's pretty cool. I mean, not the part that she's not really worshipped anymore, but the part of her being a nymph and a Goddess. Um, anyways, do you ever talk to my dad?"

"Occasionally, your father will ask me to accompany him or to do various tasks. He is a kind man, I do like his presence, if that is what you were trying to get at."

"That's good. I've only talked to him a few times, but I figured he was a nice guy," Percy grins, "Do you ever get to talk to your mom?"

"Yes, my mother, Thetis, and I are quite close. She lives in the palace with me."

"Wow, I'll be honest, I'm kinda jealous. I mean, I think my dad is cool, and I know he's like a big shot Olympian and whatever, but I think it'd be nice if we could actually talk in person and bond or whatever," he admits.

"Yes, I understand. It must be hard, but for the majority of the year, you have your mother, yes? Or are you a year-round camper?"

"Yeah, you're right. I do have my mom for most of the year, so it's worth it. She's the best," he cheers up at the mention of his mother.

"I figured you would say that. She raised you well. You are much kinder than some of the campers here, but I suppose that is not their fault."

"Nah, it's not. It is what it is sometimes."

You nod, and the conversation flows smoothly on.

𓂃 𓈒𓏸

Today was the last day that Percy would be at camp, since his mother was picking him up later that day after lunch.

He decided that since he only had a few hours left at camp for the summer, he would spend them with the person he now considered one of his closest friends, even though he'd only really known you for a few months at this point.

When he called your name, you appeared almost instantly.

"Hey, Percy," you said, grinning.

"Switching up the greeting today?"

"I suppose since today was your last day here, I would start trying to speak like you and perhaps by the time you came back from school, I would speak more 'naturally,' as you put it."

"Huh, the way you talk doesn't actually bother me, y'know."

"That may be true, but I would like to learn to speak more modernly anyhow."

"If you want to, go for it. But uh, I thought maybe we could do that thing, it's called like, Iris messaging or something? With the drachmas? Then we could keep in touch while I'm at school, too," Percy says nervously.

"That does sound like a good idea. Now that we're friends, I think it would be optimal that we spoke frequently and updated each other on our lives. Good thinking."

He chuckled. "Good, good. I, uh, also wanted to say that... well, I think you're really pretty, and I thought maybe next summer, we could, uh, maybe go on a date or something. I don't know if you feel the same way, but if you do and you do want to, that would be pretty cool," he rambles, interrupted by the foreign feeling of your lips on his.

After a few moments, you detach your mouth from his. "Was that, uh, alright?" You quietly ask.

"Yeah, jeez, that was way better than alright. That was perfect," he says, a deep red adorning his cheeks.

"That is excellent to hear," you say, smiling wider than you'd ever in your life.

"Well, I need to go to lunch, and uh, then my mom is picking me up. I'll Iris message you as soon as I get home, okay? So make sure you're ready."

"See you tonight, Percy," you happily state, dissolving back into the water as quickly as you had appeared.

He stares into the beautiful clear water for a bit before he walks away, unaware that you had appeared again and were watching him walk away, a look of adoration decorating your features.

[livesworthlivingau]

Behind the Vale Chapters 2-4

Decided to combine these 3 chapters because they'd be especially short from Loop's perspective, and I REALLY wanna get to some stuff shortly after this. Be sure to read the other 3 chapters first! (or maybe bounce between them if you want?) Spoilers for ISAT below! CW: Spiraling mental state

"You had me worried there Sif, but I guess it makes sense you'd be in such a rush. Glad to see you again Loop!"

"Yes! We never got to tell you thanks for helping us out yesterday!" [Pity... It's all just pity... You failed them, the original them... The real them.]

[All you can do now is put on your silly little mask and continue your performance, the show must go on after all.]

"... Well then splendid~! If you're all so eager to have me along, how could I refuse~?"

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[It was so easy, so blinding easy to fit in, to fill the little gaps of Stardust's perfect little family, to follow along with this whole mockery of your life, this spin off, this cheap imitation... You've gotten so good at pretending you hardly know how to do anything else at this point. That damned Fighter though... So kind, so sweet. he almost feels real, unlike the rest of them. So much so you stop feeling the need to pretend around him... until Stardust finally notices.]

(Oh... OH!... Oooooooooooooh.....)

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"Do you get it now Stardust?! Do you see why this was a bad idea?!"[You've gotten too close now. Stardust just had to invite you into his little life to make himself feel better. He just couldn't take the thought of you feeling sad all by yourself. You're just a sad, kicked puppy to them, too weak and pathetic to be left alone... He'd even give up his own love just so won't have to stomach that endless pity!]

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"Where's Loop? They shouldn't miss dinner!... Wait... Can Loop actually eat food?" [You just watch through your little connection with Stardust. You couldn't control yourself around them at the moment, not after your discussion. You need some time away to recover your role, sitting up in a large tree. It was an off comfort, a small bit of familiarity in this whole changing play. You shake off the vision for a moment, keeping your eyes closed and gripping your knife, shearing it across a piece of wood to whittle away at it. You mumble that familiar little mantra under your breath as you do. Your mind races with memories now, so faint and distant, lost to countless loops, but they try to return none the less. Visions of your Fighter, Researcher, Housemaiden, Fighter, Kid, Figh-... Isabeau... He wanted to tell you something... that's the last thing you can remember about him, the real him. You never got to hear it, and now you never will... You hear a snap, opening your eyes and looking at the figure in your hands... It's the Fighter... The head having snapped off from the pressure you exerted, laying in the grass below.]

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"So how many has it been?" [You watch Stardust and Odile playing their little drinking game. You don't know why you're listening in, you don't want to know what his life was like before getting stuck back with you... So why do you keep watching?]

"-You know you haven't told me about the original loops yet." [You perk up, finally the topic changing to something else, something... oddly nostalgic. You listen more intently, as if curious on how Stardust would regale the events of it all... of what he'd say about you.]

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[... Why is he speaking so fondly of you?... Does he know you're watching? Can he feel it somehow? No, he knows you can check in on him. He must act like that all the time just in case you're watching...]

"... So what IS Loop anyhow? You HAVE to know more about them, right?" [Your heart suddenly stops... He promised you. He told you he wouldn't tell anyone. He knows you might be watching! He wouldn't if that were the ca-]

"Okay, I'll tell you..."

[makemeanangelpure]

🩵May 30, 2024 - 113.0

🪽Day 1 of the 442 hour liquid fast

🤍I’m 13.5 hours in, 428 hours to go

☕️Today’s Cal limit: 140

I slept roughly 2 hours. Trouble falling asleep, waking up to pee every hour or thirty minutes and needing a minuscule sip of water. A little tired now but I’ll have my 5 hour energy and finish my 50 cal of coffee and go into a 7.5 hour shift. Truck day, so essentially 3 hours of cardio/weight lifting for me and 5 hours of on my feet slight lifting and reviving material. I’ll burn a good amount of extra calories today and tomorrow though, no truck then just the repackaging, maybe a few heavier things to haul around. I’m going to have one stall of celery when I get home. I’ll wait to have it at 7:42 pm where my partner can witness, alongside 2 baby carrots. That’ll put me at 75 cal for the day, and I get home around 1:30, so ill have a cup of tea while I wait for time to go, run the dishwasher and restock that, bath and shower, maybe wait to shave Thursday. Yesterday I drank a hard mike and a hard peach tea, ate a few things, threw up beforehand. Ended at 775. After I drank I didn’t have an urge to eat which is unusual but I’m assuming because I took medicine. It’s for adhd, not mine but I took it because I’d been thinking about it, thinking I might take one once a week and they’d never notice, just so I won’t get hungry. They’ve been taking it a few days and have been barely eating, I ate more than then the past two days and wanted to wring my own neck. They keep telling me about items of clothing getting looser, about our friends telling them they look like they lost weight, and they have, they do look different than a few months back. They’re taller than me and we’re in the 200-210 range and are now 189-199 and when you’re bigger, it comes off faster, it’s more noticeable. Really said something that messed with me yesterday.. and it was ignorance.. that if 10 pounds on me wasn’t that much different to them why would 10 more pounds be.. which they’ve seen pictures of me when I was 15-20 pounds lighter, they just haven’t been around me like that. I was heavier.. 10 pounds heavier than I am now when I started living here last year and if they don’t notice how I’ve dropped weight and my fucking face isn’t so round after just 10 pounds, I’ll just have to make them see and if anything they’ll feel a difference when they lift me up. Always picking me up around the house and carrying me places, jostling me but I want it to be easier. I want to hear them say that I feel lighter in some kind of form or fashion. The goal is to be 20 pounds lighter by June 28 so I’d be 93 which would break my old low weight:94, from 3 fucking years ago now. A baby shower on the 22 to go to so by then I’m going to try to be 97 for. The mother is someone who always copied me in highschool, and afterward and I just want her to really see how different we are. I also want to be the thinnest at a friend group gathering and I want her nosey mother to gossip to the others about how “ sick” I look. I want to eat a piece of cake with them and have it look seamless for me, because I’ll have worked hard to not worry about 350 cal of sugar for a day or whatever. To eat a little of what is made, not finish my food or my cake, and throw a tiny bit away.. like a quarter I guess. On Friday I’ll weigh and measure my waist, on the 22 I’m measure everything and then again on the 28. I last weighed last Friday so I’m going off that. My period seemed to skip a month but it’s irregular anyhow. My partner said it’s cause I’m not eating enough but I beg to differ. A lot of my days have been 1000-2000 days the past few weeks. I think it’s stress related. By the 28th, I’m going to drink again. Get blush wine and have two cups to celebrate things being better and I’ll be smaller and feel more put together, feel prettier when we get kissy buzzy and cuddle up close. Saturday I’m making a favorite dinner for them… I’m going to pick the smallest chicken for myself, cut it in half and then cut it into ( I’ll figure out how many pieces) 7 pieces of course 44 for a bite, 313 roughly for the whole chicken. One bite cause it’s a 75 cal day. I know he’ll cut it for me and be sweet.

[oceansssblue]

["CLAIM THE PRICE"]—Part 1.

ARCANE

SILCO x OFC 💖

"DON'T-SHIT-WITH-ME"-RAY DELIVERS AN INJURED JINX TO SILCO AND SEES HIM FOR THE FIRST TIME.

WARNINGS: MENTIONS OF WOUND&BLOOD, CHARACTER BOUND W ROPE.

Ray has always been just another scrapy kid from the Lanes. Someone small enough to wander through the mines and get through places others couldn't. Someone with enough spare energy to burn through endless hours of digging tunnels. A young woman with enough muscle mass to carry the findings from where other kids like her dissapeared into the mines to the trucks in which piltovians would drive away with the result of all their hard work and money.

No, Ray had never been particularly noticable. Just another kid with dirty smuged cheeks and a smile too hollow to be considered cheerfull; tiredness etched on every inch of her dry skin. Just like everyone elses, really. Not different, not special. Just another zaunite trying to survive.

She's still a kid from the Lanes. A decade later, her lungs don't work quite right; a burning pain stabbing the insides of her chest whenever she runs too fast or for far too much time. Her skin is still dry, even tearing up at elbows and knees, forehead and fingers; she still works non-stop and always has to be carefull to not get lost and stuck, even if circumstances are different now. Zaun is always dangerous, no matter what –two, three, if you're lucky four wall- room you happen to call home. There's always power above you; and you just have to crawl around and find your way, your path. Pray to not get hurt too bad for you to stand up again the next day and repeat the cycle.

If there's one thing Zaun teaches its citizens –if you could call them that–, it's to be tough. Not as a chosen trait of your personality, not because you want to impress someone else or look more cool and collected. No; you have to be, because you're dead otherwise. Resources are scarce in the Underground; and humans do crazy things for a bite of food after a few days without chewing anything else other than your own clothes to get the need out of you.

That's the whole reason why she stays hidden behind the corner of the street and stares. All of it. She stays put because she knows meddling in would only bring her problems and a bruise or two; she doesn't walk away because the kid reminds her to herself. Just as scrappy, bones as noticable, eyes as lost; and yet, just as fierce.

Ray analyses every detail of the scene. She has never seen the blue-hair girl around before; but she does recognise the men fighting her, with the dark green piece of cloth wrapped around their wrists and too piltovian-looking high boots. In Ray's opinion, carrying an identifier of a criminal syndicate is pretty stupid, even if it's Zaun; it just directs the revenge straigtht back to the source. But she's not here to give these rats lessons; so her dark eyes turn back to the girl.

She's small and slender, as most zaunites are; though she does seem a bit worse for wear than the usual. Ray doesn't know if it's the strange miss match of clothes or the hair colour, the glinting light on her eyes or how she smiles too happily –dying doesn't seem to worry her, apparently– at the situation at hand. She doesn't care to find out either. The only important discovery she finds it's that her blood is constantly dripping from an opened gash on her side; and the kid doesn't appear to be too worried about it to press something over it to make it stop. Not that she has the space and time to do it, anyhow.

Ray only intervenes when it's evident the girl can't hold them back any longer. She does own a gun; but she's not feeling like making that much of a noise, and she's actually quicker with her knifes, so she aims and kills three of them in a three second sucession that leaves everyone still alive momentarily stunned. When the others react, Ray is already rolling through the floor, using a man as a body shield and slashing his neck after throwing her last knife at the last one. It's all surpisingly easy –too easy to be a fight in Zaun–; but these are not true zaunites. They're something in between Up and Down. A tiny, hungry part of her wishes they'd pose more of a threat. More fun.

Kid staring with surprised wide eyes, Ray stands up from the now dead corpse and picks up her five blades. She cleans them against one of the green identifiers on their arms; not wanting to dirt her clothes with blood more than they already are. Blood is hard to wash.

Ray turns to the blue-hair girl; face carefully neutral while she points in the direction of her wound with a clean knife.

"You should cover that up" she tells her, voice almost unbothered, eyes never leaving the girl's. "I doubt you have much more blood left to lose in that skinny body of yours".

She stares, and stares, and stares. And then laughs.

"Dad will have his doctor fixing me in no time. It won't be the first time, and for sure not the last".

She grins. Not as if it's something she's proud of; just as if she's suddenly genuinely happy. She doesn't look like a fighter who enjoys violence anymore; just an innocent kid, now. The switch is intriguing. Ray doesn't point it out.

"Dad must have quite the money to call for a proper doctor to fix up a gash" she comments instead.

This time, the blue-hair kid does smile like she has found her words entertaining; a hint of an amused cheeky smile that warns Ray there's a surprise coming. And oh, is it a surprise...

"Just the King of Zaun" she humms, balancing back and forth in her own toes, and a choked sound leaves the womans throat without her permission.

It's Ray's turn to stare now. That is not just a scrappy zaunite kid; that is fucking Jinx, and the rest of her night has suffered a dangerous turn.

--

Ray would've had to be deaf to not hear about Silco's ascending power in Zaun. And even then, she would have sooner or later learnt about him by the way the whole Underground seemed to move around him. The Chem Barons were wary of him –that's how important he had become in the Underground–; and she's definetly not an exception.

Ray has never actually seen Silco. She prefers it that way; not getting close to him means not risking her life unnecesarily, and even in her curiosity, she has always being surprisingly cautious. She knows theres no running away from him now, though; Silco will investigate her daughter's incident sooner or later, and all tries will lead to Ray. So she chats with Jinx, and the girl is all too happy to take her to him. She doesn't stop talking all the way to The Last Drop; blurting whatever comes to her head, and finally growing silent when they push through the bar doors.

Silco is, obviously, not happy. Even if perfectly controlled, Ray can read the ire in his mis-matched eyes and the tension of his muscles and expression. Those intriguing eyes –that inmediately catches Ray's attention– don't last a second before they're focusing on Jinx's blood; a mere hand gesture is enough to command the bodyguards he keeps in the room, and Ray is quickly bound to a chair with rope.

She could have fought her way out of it, maybe. Her knifes seem to be calling her from their hidden place in her boots and the belt around her hips, covered by her jacket; but she's intelligent enough not to use them. She would have been able to kill some of Silco's goons, maybe; but that would only grow his fury for when he'd order his men to follow her to get rid of her body to the very corners of the world. She carefully breathes in, then, and offers no resistance; looking at him in silence while he orquests the room.

"Dad, it's not what it looks like" Jinx beggins to say, playing nervously with one of her braids.

Silco is quick to send her away.

"I'll be the one to determine that" he drags, voice as seductive and soft as it is threatening and dangerous, and Ray can't help but feel a peak of curiosity at the man in front of her. "Go find Sevika and visit the doctor, tend to your wound. Everyone get out".

Silco's bodyguards don't hesitate. They might feel unsure about leaving their boss alone with a potencial criminal; but it's and order, and Ray's effectively tied down. They leave one by one, and close the door after the last. Ray's sure they're waiting on the other side; in case things go wrong.

The air seems to grow heavier now that Silco and Ray are the only presences in the room. He takes his time; stepping around his desk and sitting down behind it in an almost regal way. Albeit attractive –she hadn't expected him to look like that–, he looks partly like just another kid from the Lanes; though Ray's aware he's much more than that. Silco's an interesting mix of yuxtapositions; he keeps the esence of the zaunites, though he's got something that reminds Ray of piltovians. Not in an irritating way; but in how he holds his power, knowing it runs through his veins, his confident but cautious posture and how he scans everything with a mix of wariness and desinterest. He's an intriguing man and Ray's inmediately hooked.

"It's not what it looks like..." he humms, repeating Jinx's words, playing distractedly with the papers on his desk even if Ray knows he's not distracted at all. "So you haven't let my daughter get hurt enough for her skin to turn pale with so much blood loss".

He waits, and Ray knows there's an answer needed. Silco seems like someone patient and at the same time not at all. She feels like he won't like half veiled truths or people trying to escape their way around; so she decides to be brutally honest and answers with her heart pounding blood through her veins. There aren't weapons pointed towards her; but Ray knows Silco doesn't need them.

"I did" she contradicts him, and his blue and almost red eyes inmediately zap up to meet hers. "I would have left her to die too if the way she fighted back didn't remind me of myself at her age. I didn't realise she was your daughter at the time, though. I would have stepped in earlier if I had."

Silco stares. It's a very different feeling than when Jinx does it; this feels like he's scanning her soul, and Ray holds her breath. Powerfull men don't always make the most rational decisions. Power can make you go mad.

"That's good to hear" he answers, an ankle crossing on top of the oposite knee in a way that shouldn't look that atractive. "If I happened to believe you didn't know who my daughter was... Do you enjoy playing the hero often?"

Ray can't help but laugh darkly at that.

"Playing hero makes you end up dead".

He's quick to answer. There's something exciting about the conversation; about the adrenaline and tettering the line of life and death. It's almost as the thrill of a physical fight. Silco's tongue is that sharp.

"And yet here you are".

Ray takes a deep breath. She can't confess what she hasn't done.

"Like I said" she pauses, holding Silco's gaze with her own assured one "Just this once, just because she reminded me of myself".

Silco lets it pass. He's silent for a minute; and Ray uses the time to define his figure with her eyes. His clothes are elegant but not piltovian eccentric; scarlet dress shirt with a black vest and a white-cream tye, details tailored in gold and brown. His hair is combed back; shorter and the sides. A hint of grey mixes with the black strands here and there. He definetly has good taste.

Silco's voice cuts through her thoughts; and Ray suddenly remembers she's not supposed to look at him like that. She's supossed to want to free herself and run away; but she's still just another kid from the Lanes, and kids from the Lanes always find trouble even when they're not actively searching for them.

"Am i correct in guessing you brought my daughter back with the hopes of claiming a reward?"

Ray can't help the hiss that escapes her mouth. She is starting to feel like they're walking in circles, here. Silco's waryness reaches a new level of untrust.

"I didn't know who she was" she repeats, growing frustrated, taking a deep breath to remain calm after that. "And even when I learnt that, I didn't follow her here for that".

Silco tilts his head. A lonely strand of hair falls over his forehead.

"What for, then?"

Ray wonders if Silco always speaks in questions and veiled threats and acussations.

"To save us both the time". She's firm, confident without sounding cocky. "I know you'd send your men to find me, sooner or later, to figure out who I am and what was my part in this whole deal. I don't like having strangers going at my back. I thought it'd be more sensible to sit here and answer all your questions so I can carry on with my life".

If Silco is surprised by her answer, he doesn't show it. His left eye glints like molten lava on his black sclera; a complete oposite to the soothing calm of his sea-blue one.

The interrogation continues, and Ray's wrists and ankles start to feel hurt under the tension of the ropes around her. Silco asks about the fight per se, now; who were they fighting against, how many, if she recognised anything about them, why did it happen, how did she kill them, when did she learn to. She mentions Gray's men and their green wrist bands; and shrugs off the years of practice kill with her knifes.

Ray can see Silco calculating a revenge in his eyes. She's not particularly concerned about that; Gray's men are a cancer for Zaun, traitors selling their brothers to Piltover, and she has no compassion for any of the Upworld or those who help them.

When all is said and done, Silco tentatively touches the motive of her presence again.

"Everyone has a price" he adds. "And I don't like being in debt. There must be something you must want".

There is. In an ideal world, Ray would love to have a good house with a warm heater, good running water, lots of food and new clean cothes. A pet and a comfortable sofa. Ray lives in the real one.

"Money and power comes with enemies. Why would I want that?" she calmly explains her determination to reject the offer. "I have enough to pass by. I'll let you know if somethings comes to mind".

Silco humms.

Without saying a word, he stands up and walks round the table towards her. Ray doesn't dare tear her eyes away from him; observing quietly how he stops in front of her and once again, analyses her. She waits, face tilted slightly up towards him, eyes not hiding anything back. Silco's hand grazes the inner side of her wrist while he untightens the rope, freeing her; she can't help the shiver that runs through her spine at that. If it's because of his cold skin, fear, or attraction, Ray is not quite sure yet. Silco notices it too, but he keeps silent, only flicking his eyes briefly towards her before resuming his job of untying her.

When Ray is finally free, she slowly stands up. Silco hasn't taken more than two small steps back; so their bodies are uncomfortably close, and once again she has to tilt her chin up.

He's strangely handsome. Not in the classical way; one side of his face too scared for that, cheek bones too prominent and eyes too different from each other. But he is; deep, intense stare and wonderfull hair, hard atractive features and power and elegance. Ray is so entraced by him she isn't even aware of how hard and fast her heart is beating against her ribcage; doesn't feel the usual pinching pain of her lungs when her breathing speeds up.

Silco drops the rope to the side and takes, this time, a wide step back. He returns to the safety provided behind his desk and observes her for ten more seconds before finally dismissing her. The air is suddenly back in the woman's lungs.

"You're free to go now".

And so Ray walks away; the memory of the feeling caused by those miss-matched eyes following her all the way back to her four way room she calls home. She has survived the encounter. She's one of the lucky ones.

END OF PART 1.

(PART 2 HERE:)

-----------------------------

AUTHORS NOTE:

TARAAA! FIRST TIME EVER WRITING A SILCO STORY! I LOVE ARCANE AND I PLAY THE GAME TOO; SILCO IS JUST MAJESTIC, SUCH AN INTERESTING CHARACTER. I HOPE I HAVE BEEN ABLE TO PORTRAIT SOME OF THAT HERE.

ALL OF THIS ACTUALLY CAME FROM TRYING TO GIVE THE TALENTED @purplefangirl42 A REQUEST FOR A SILCO/OFC; BUT THE STORY KINDA MADE ITSELF WHILE I WAS WRITING TO HER AND SO HERE IT IS INSTEAD. I ACTUALLY MADE HER ANOTHER REQUEST SO YOU CAN CHECK THAT AND ALL HER OTHER WORKS ON HER BLOG! I'VE READ SOME AND YOU WON'T BE DISSAPOINTED.

REGARDING THIS STORY, JUST KNOW THAT THERE'S (AT LEAST) A SECOND PART BEING COOKED RIGHT NOW. I DON'T THINK IT'LL TAKE ME TOO LONG TO WRITE, SO YOU'LL PROBABLY HAVE IT SOON. REMEMBER ENGLISH IS NOT MY MAIN LANGUAGE SO SORRY FOR ANY TYPOS AND ALL OF THAT :)

PLS LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THOUGHT OF THIS AND REBLOG IF YOU CAN!

Xx,

Sky.

BACK TO MY MASTERLIST (WHERE I POST ABSOLUTELY EVERYTHING, HERE!

[fruit-of-infidelity]

♱  DIABOLIK LOVERS: Haunted Dark Bridal ー Sakamaki Ryuuto | Maniac 07  ♱

⌜ Scene: Ryuuto’s Bedroom ⌟

Yui: …Gosh…

( Of all things… Making me dust his room? Didn’t Ryuuto-san say something about having servants to do all this? )

( Come to think of it… He’s been very particular about me being where he says, when he says more often than usual, lately. )

( He probably enjoys seeing me exhausted, rushing around like this… )

What a bully...

ー The door suddenly opens, and someone steps in. ー

Yui: …Ryuuto-san? I’m almost done in here.

Ryuuto: You’ve been in here an awfully long time, alone. You haven’t been lonely? Or up to something, perhaps?

You have quite the habit of snooping, after all.

Yui: I…! I didn’t snoop around.

…But, I do have to wonder something…

Ryuuto: What might that be?

Yui: …That painting, on the wall.

I noticed it as soon as I walked in; Why is it covered over?

( I can’t imagine Ryuuto-san covering over one of his own works… He seems way too proud to hang an uncompleted painting. )

Ryuuto: …Aah, that.

Once of my best most prized pieces... Though, let us just say, even Vampires are susceptible to paranoia.

Yui: Paranoia…?

( Ryuuto-san feels… watched? By his own painting? )

━─┉┈◈ Selection ◈┈┉─━

　　❈  I know how you feel...⎨M⎬

Yui: Feeling watched by something you hold dear…

Even I can understand that.

Ryuuto: …Oh?

Yui: Like whenever I attend Church.

Being in front of so many holy idols remind me that I’m always watched by God, no matter where I am.

And that can be a little scary… Even though I love him dearly.

Ryuuto: …Fufu, I suppose it is comparable even to that.

　　❈  It’s only a painting⎨S⎬

Yui: You must know it’s only a painting though...? It’s not like the canvas can come to life, so what’s there to worry about?

Ryuuto: ...How presumptuous.

You may as well call me ‘crazy’, as that’s what you’re trying to imply.

Yui: ...!

No, I didn’t mean...

Ryuuto: As if the likes of you would understand, anyhow.

━━─┉┈┈◈◉◈┈┈┉─━━

You see, that painting is… Hm?

Yui: …?

ー Footsteps approach in the hallway. ー

Ryuuto: ーーThis smell…

Yui: Smell? Ryuuto-sa…n!?

( …! H-He suddenly put his hand over my mouth!? )*

Ryuuto: …Silence.

Don’t make a sound. Not one. Unless you’re hoping to be passed around to someone else this evening…

Yui: …!

ー Richter enters Ryuuto’s bedroom. ー

Richter: …Aah, Ryuuto.

Ryuuto: ーーIs there something you needed, Father?

Yui: ( Richter-san… He seems fixated on Ryuuto-san. Almost like he doesn’t even notice me here… )

Richter: Must you ask? There is only one reason why I would be here.

Hand her over. 

Ryuuto: I would happily do so… That is, if she were here.

Yui: ( ‘If’…!? Can Richter-san not see me? )

( Has… Has Ryuuto-san somehow made me invisible!? )

Richter: Don’t play games with me, boy. I can smell her.

Ryuuto: I’m not surprised; Scent tends to linger. She was here not too long ago, dusting just as I had instructed, after all.

It seems she must have moved on. Perhaps check the library?

Richter: …There is little time left before the awakening. I want to be certain that we haven’t gotten ahead of ourselves; That she is the one.

Ryuuto: ーーShe is!

Richter: How can you be so sure?

Ryuuto: …All the signs are there, aren’t they?

Richter: That is what I want to be certain of. I want to taste her blood.

Ryuuto: ーーThere is no need for that. I think I know what She tastes like.

Yui: …!

Richter: … …

Yui: ( He glanced my way! )

Richter: …I don’t appreciate your recent possessiveness over the human; I thought I taught you to share better than this, Ryuuto.

Ryuuto: Possessiveness? I beg your pardon, Iーー

Richter: You’ve always had a hard time coming to terms with second place, haven’t you? First me, then Laito.

Yui: ( Laito-kun…? )

( What has this got to do with Laito-kun? )

Richter: Don’t tell me your greed is a by-product of Her favouritism?

Ryuuto: … …

Richter: …Kuku.

ー Richter slowly heads toward the exit. ー

Richter: …Oh and, Ryuuto?

Keep that painting unveiled. How ill-mannered.

ー Richter snaps his fingers… and the covering is torn off. ー

Ryuuto: …!

…Of course, Father.

ー Richter exits. ー

Yui: ( The painting! Is that Ryuuto-san’sーー )

ー Yui’s heart loudly beats. ー

Yui: ーーKuh…!

???: 「 Ryuuto! Ryuuto! 」

Yui: Ryuu…to-sa…n!

Ryuuto: …You.

Come here.

ー He closes in on her. ー

Yui: N…No!

ー Yui struggles against Ryuuto. ー

???: 「 Don’t push him away, fool! 」

Yui: ( That voice… I-I can barely think, it’s so loud in my mind! )

Ryuuto…san…

???: 「 Come to me, Ryuuto! 」

ー The screen fades to black as Yui collapses… but Ryuuto catches her. ー

Ryuuto: I can hear you… Mother.

━─┉┈◈ Time Skip ◈┈┉─━

ー Yui regains consciousness… back in Ryuuto’s room. ー

Yui: Nn…

( My head… is pounding… )

( I’m… still in Ryuuto-san’s room…!? )

Ryuuto: Finally, you’ve come to.

Yui: You…

( He must have helped me into bed once I blacked out… )

Ryuuto: How are you feeling?

Yui: Well... Iーー

Ryuuto: Are you dizzy?

Yui: Aah… no, but…

Ryuuto: Nauseous?

Yui: No.

Ryuuto: Good. Then, enough words.

ー He begins to climb into bed with Yui. ー

Yui: Wh-What are you doiーー

ー Ryuuto suddenly kisses Yui. ー

Ryuuto: Mwah…

Yui: …!

( He’s kissing me! )

( My mind feels completely blank… )

( Ryuuto-san’s lips… His kiss is so tender, just like the first time… )

ー Ryuuto begins to undress Yui. ー

Yui: Mmf…!

( His hands…! He’s trying to get my top off! )

Haa...

( For some reason, I don’t want to stop him. )

Ryuuto: Nfu, that’s it… Hold me closer.

ー Ryuuto begins to undress himself too. ー

Ryuuto: You choose me, don’t you〜?

Yui: I…

( If I’m playing into him like this… )

( Do… I? )

Ryuuto: Feel me, Yui… Feel all of me.

Your body is already hot to the touch, and the smell of your arousal is… Fufu. You can’t help but imagine what’s to come, can you?

I’ve held back enough… I’ve taken your first bite, and your first kiss… And now, I’ll take you entirely; I can’t allow another to steal this from me.

Not them… Not either of them, not anyone.

Tonight, we’ll be one.

I’ll make sure it hurts… And in return, you’ll receive all the pleasure I can give. I’ll leave my lasting print upon you; Inside and out.

Yui: Nn…

( This is all so sudden, but… I can barely form the word ‘no’. )

( Ryuuto-san, I… )

( Want this? )

⌜Monologue⌟

“She is the one”.

ーーWhat on earth did Richter-san mean by that?

What’s more, the voice and Ryuuto-san mother…

I can’t help but feel that they’re somehow connected through me (連絡している).

Deep down… I fear I’m in terrible, terrible danger.

Despite that, tonight I gave Ryuuto-san my first time.

His fangs, his touch; It was painful and pleasurable all at once…

Most of all? I felt safe ( 安全 ) in his arms.

And to say that with my whole heart terrifies me…

✥ TO BE CONTINUED ✥

─────── ≪ °♛° ≫ ───────

←  [ ✥ Maniac 06 ✥ ] ⎥ [ ✥ Maniac 08 ✥ ]  →

━━─┉┈┈◈ Notes ◈┈┈┉─━━

　　1.  Once again, another mirroring of Laito’s route. This mimics (in a sense) the scene in Laito’s route where he hushes Yui (and makes her invisible to the eye) upon Richter’s arrival/snooping around.

━━──┉┈┈◈ ◉ ◈┈┈┉──━━

[truckreincarnation]

For the Sky to Heed my Call, For the Night to once again Fall | Esmée | Trial 5.5 | Re: Shinjuku, Vee, Avery, Frank | ATTN: Manami

As Manami proclaims the full plan, Esmée’s grip on Harriet tightens. Something to ground herself when she tried to be the grounding force. Then Shin pipes up, and she could hear herself breathing again. Some semblance of a plan, a step forward, even as it was causing him worry- if it means a future..

Then Vee Speaks and it boils over into anger.

What do you mean you hid an important piece of evidence? So it may not happen again- what if by studying it we could reverse it? Why would you hide something so-

Harriet would hear the quiet grinding of teeth as Esmée failed to restrain her wild glare. Moving from a cuddly to a vicious bear about to attack in the span of seconds; so was the nature of these damned trials.

They just needed a way forward. They just needed a talking point. They just needed something- anything- a hook. Something to negotiate; when she had spoken to the pixies in their war it was so much easier. Sure the stakes were high but she was calmer then, now she felt as though she was being hunted. Chased. She needed a way out.

She needed to talk her way out. THEIR way out. Frank was at Shin’s side; so she offers him a small glance, a quick message, and then she turns to Manami. She needed to move forward.

“For Our Sakes, Manami taking the fall in regards to killing the King is our best option.” 

Her voice warbles slightly, as she sucks in a breath to try to steady it. Keep moving forward. Make your plea.

“Germain admitting the truth would get us outcast, crested, or worse. In terms of that topic we need to prioritise ourselves. However…” 

With that, she turns to Germain, looking to them for help before she finally faces the ‘foe’ head on. As Manami recovers from that rock being thrown, Esmée walks on over. The opener to negotiation is a simple thing; catch them off guard and make them listen.

Her hands grab one of Manami’s pairs of hands as she forces the other to look her in the eye. 

“Casting Last Haven into the Abyss would be a terrible decision politically for the Demon King’s Lands.” 

Never undermine the value of shock factor. Make your point and mean it. Hear her, listen to her, in terms of the spoken word, Esmée is not to be underestimated.

“It’s as Avery said. Many innocent people there hated Calum and Summoning too. Hells, even summoners hate summoning. Some of them, anyhow. You want to hurt those people? You want to cast away thousands who agree with your ideology?” 

She can’t panic. She can’t show anger. She needs her resolve to be steady, fluid, to shine bright as a guiding star in the night sky.

“Here let me…you consider it to be hostile territory, all enemies right? When really the large amount of ‘enemies’ are just tied down by the boss monsters of the area. Ykno. The Nobles.” She cringes a bit as she speaks, fully aware at how simplified this version is, but she needs Manami on her side. If she’s correct about her personality never wavering, then… “Rid those boss monsters without hurting a neutral enemy on the field then that 'enemy' becomes an ally. They may even praise and rejoice at seeing the downfall of the nobles who caused this whole mess.” 

“You’re sending lands into the abyss that could prosper. You are sending thousands upon thousands to their deaths when they are simply lovely people forced into a bad situation; like us. Unlock them with the right choices and the dialogue and future events will show that.” 

What was the last point? Oh. Right. She’s been thinking this for a while…but now would be the best time to bring it forward. The way to avoid a disastrous plan is to give an alternative; and cover all the same bases in a different light. 

“If you’re worried about future summoning, we all know those in summoning schools are exploited students. There is far more they’d rather work on; just outlaw the practice. People are aware of the Demon King’s Power, outlawing it would definitely slow it down if not grind it to a halt. Magic Users can be taught in school to instead help Felyn’s cause in helping Bound. A form of ‘repentance’ in terms of direct action rather than needless slaughter.” 

A glance then, goes over to Vee, and then back to Manami.

“I think it’s a far better plan than yours, personally. Plus, need a bargaining chip? A non-zero percent chance doesn’t mean an 100% chance of death either. The Sealing Ritual is still possible to do to the DK. It is a threat regardless, and as Shinjuku said, Alvarie is here. Tal'nula also bears witness to this possibility should the DK threaten them in his actions; so I ask you to think.”

[mishafletcher]

Are you a Gold Star lesbian? (Just in case you don't know what it means, a Gold Star lesbian is a lesbian that has never had the sex with a guy and would never have any intentions of ever doing so)

So I got this ask a while ago, and I've been lowkey thinking about it ever since.

First: No. I am a queer, cranky dyke who is too old for this sort of bullshit gatekeeping. 

Second: What an unbelievable question to ask someone you don't even know! What an incomprehensibly rude thing to ask, as if you're somehow owed information about my sexual history. You're not! No one—and I can't reiterate this enough, but no one—owes you the details of their sex lives, of their trauma, or of anything about themselves that they don't feel like sharing with you.

The clickbait mills of the internet and the purity police of social media would like nothing more than to convince everyone that you owe these things to everyone. They would like you to believe that you have to prove that you're traumatized enough to identify with this character, that you can't sell this article about campus rape without relating it to your own sexual assault, that you can't talk about queer issues without offering up a comprehensive history of your own experiences, and none of those things are true. You owe people, and especially random strangers on the internet, nothing, least of all citations to somehow prove to them that you have the right to talk about your own life.

This makes some people uncomfortable, and to be clear, I think that that's good: people who feel entitled to demand this information should be uncomfortable. Refusing to justify yourself takes power away from people who would very much like to have it, people who would like to gatekeep and dictate who is permitted to speak about what topics or like what things. You don't have to justify yourself. You don't have to explain that you like this ship because this one character reminds you a bit of yourself because you were traumatized in a vaguely similar way and now— You don't have to justify your queerness by telling people about the best friend you had when you were twelve, and how you kissed, and she laughed and said it was good practice for when she would kiss boys and your stomach twisted and your mouth tasted like bile and she was the first and last girl you kissed, but— 

You don't owe anyone these pieces of yourself. They're yours, and you can share them or not, but if someone demands that you share, they're probably not someone you should trust.

Third: The idea of gold star lesbians is a profoundly bi- and trans- phobic idea, often reducing gender to genitals and the long, shared history of queer women of all identities to a stark, artificial divide where some identities are seen as purer or more valuable than others. This is bullshit on all counts.

There's a weird and largely artificial division between bisexuals and lesbians that seems to be intensifying on tumblr, and I have to say: I hate it. Bisexual women aren't failed lesbians. They're not somehow less good or less valid because they're attracted to [checks notes] people. Do you think that having sex with a man somehow changes them? What are you so worried about it for? I've checked, and having sex with a man does not, in fact, make your vagina grow teeth or tentacles. Does that make you feel better? Why is what other people are doing so threatening to you?

Discussions of gold star lesbians are often filled with tittering about hehe penises, which is unfortunate, since I know a fair few lesbians who have penises, and even more lesbians who've had sex with people, men and women alike, who have penises. I'm sorry to report that "I'm disgusted by a standard-issue human body part" is neither a personality nor anything to be proud of. I'm a dyke and I don't especially like men, but dicks are just dicks. You don't have to be interested in them, but a lot of people have them, and it doesn't make you less of a lesbian to have sex with someone who has a dick.

There's so much garbage happening in the world—maybe you haven't noticed, but things are kind of Not Great in a lot of places, and there's a whole pandemic thing that's been sort of a major buzzkill? How is this something that you're worried about? Make a tea, remind yourself that other people's genitalia and sexual history are none of your business, maybe go watch a video about a cute animal or something. 

Fourth: The idea of gold star lesbians is a shitty premise that argues that sexuality is better if it's always been clear-cut and straightforward—but it rarely is. We live in a very, very heterosexist culture. I didn’t have a word for lesbian until many years after I knew that I was one. How can you say that you are something when your mouth can’t even make the shape of it? The person you are at 24 is different to the person you are at 14, and 34, and 74. You change. You get braver. The world gets wider. You learn to see possibilities in the shadows you used to overlook. Of course people learn more about themselves as they age.

Also, many of us, especially those of us who grew up in smaller towns, or who are over the age of, say, 25, grew up in times and places where our sexuality was literally criminal.

Shortly after I graduated high school, a gay man in my state was sentenced to six months in jail. Why? Well, he’d hit on someone, and it was a misdemeanor to "solicit homosexual or lesbian activity", which included expressing romantic or sexual interest in someone who didn’t reciprocate. You might think, then, that I am in fact quite old, but you would be mistaken. The conviction was in 1999; it was overturned in 2002.

I grew up knowing this: the wrong thing said to the wrong person would be sufficient reason to charge me with a crime.

In the United States, the Defense of Marriage Act was passed in 1996, clarifying that according to the federal government, marriage could only ever be between one man and one woman. It also promised that even if a state were to legalize same-sex unions, other states wouldn't have to recognize them if they didn't want to. And wow, they super did not want to, because between 1998 and 2012, a whopping thirty states had approved some sort of amendment banning same-sex marriage.

Every queer person who's older than about 25 watched this, knowing that this was aimed at people like them. Knowing that these votes were cast by their friends and their families and their teachers and their employers. 

Some states were worse than others. Ohio passed their bill in 2004 with 62% approval. Mississippi passed theirs the same year with 86% approval. Imagine sitting in a classroom, or at work, or in a church, or at a family dinner, and knowing that statistically, at least two out of every three people in that room felt you shouldn't be allowed to marry someone you loved.

Matthew Shepard was tortured to death in October of 1998. For being gay, for (maybe) hitting on one of the men who had planned to merely rob him. Instead, he was tortured and left to die, tied to a barbed wire fence. His murderers were both sentenced to two consecutive life terms in prison. This was controversial, because a nonzero number of people felt that Shepard had brought it upon himself.

Many of us sat at dinner tables and listened to this discussion, one that told us, over and over, that we were fundamentally wrong, fundamentally undeserving of love or sympathy or of life itself.

This is a tiny, tiny sliver of history—a staggeringly incomplete overview of what happened in the US over about ten years. Even if this tiny sliver is all that there were, looking at this, how could you blame someone for wanting to try being not Like This? How can you fault someone who had sex, maybe even had a bunch of sex, hoping desperately that maybe they could be normal enough to be loved if they just tried harder? How can you say that someone who found themself an uninteresting but inoffensive boyfriend and went on dates and had sex and said that it was fine is somehow less valuable or less queer or less of a lesbian for doing so? For many people, even now, passing as straight, as problematic as that term is, is a survival skill. How dare you imply that the things that someone did to protect themself make them worth less? They survived, and that's worth literally everything.

Fifth, finally: What is a gold star, anyhow? You've capitalized it, like it's Weighty and Important, but it's not. Gold stars were what your most generous grade school teacher put on spelling tests that you did really well on. But ultimately, gold stars are just shiny scraps of paper. They don't have any inherent value: I can buy a thousand of them for five bucks and have them at my door tomorrow. They have only the meaning that we give them, only the importance that we give them. We’re not children desperately scrabbling for a teacher’s approval anymore, though. We understand that good and bad are more of a spectrum than a binary, and that a gold star is a simplification. We understand that no number of gold stars will make us feel like we’re special enough or good enough or important enough, or fix the broken places we can still feel inside ourselves. Only we can do that.

The stars are only shiny scraps of paper. They offer us nothing; we don’t need them. I hope that someday, you see that, too. 

[licensedqueerio]

IK u've already done Fred Benson x GN reader confession stuff but...more please?? maybe reader leaving Fred anonymous love letters until the truth comes out??😳😳

I'm obsessed with Fred x jock reader. Apparently, I'm a sucker for the nerd/jock trope. I thought I was more interesting than this!

Also, this is different from my usual works. I kind of just want to see how it does in comparison to all my other pieces that have happy endings. This was fun to write anyhow :) I think I’ll write a part two eventually. Just depends tho if anyone wants one.

(also I’m kinda in a romance slump if that makes sense. I need to read more romance books, so if anyone’s got any recs, lemme know)

—

Word count: 2.7k

Pairing: Fred Benson x Reader

Warnings: N/A

Request Here

—

It started small. A slip of notebook paper shoved into his locker during passing period. 

Dear Fred, your hair looks really nice today.

It wasn't anything romantic. It was barely even a compliment. And it definitely told nothing about your identity, you wanted to stay anonymous. Especially when you kept doing it.

It wasn't a daily thing. It wasn't even a weekly thing at the beginning. But sometimes you thought he looked extra nice, or that something he said in class was really funny. Sometimes you didn't even compliment him, you just said something pointless about your day and asked him about his.

It was a fun little thing you got some serotonin from doing. And you didn't have to face the awkwardness of ever saying any of it in person. It's why you started writing the notes in the first place, words came more freely when you wrote them down. Something to do with not having to see the person's reaction to your words. It’s why you'd never said more than a word to Fred.

You knew how he was. You heard he once made a newspaper kid cry without even touching him. You didn't want to risk being torn to shreds with just a few words, so you stayed anonymous and just shoved the notes in his locker for him to find.

But one week he disappeared and something…changed with you. You began writing him more. Every day he was missing you slipped a note in his locker. Saying you missed seeing him around. Or that you missed his witty remarks in class. You were secretly worried about his well being.

Dear Fred,

You probably don't want to hear from me considering I've left you about six notes this week alone. It's the most I've written to you, actually. I guess I was worried. Not I guess. I was worried. A lot. You just disappeared off the face of the earth for a week.I suppose that’s your business though.

I really did miss you in class, I didn't lie about that. It's boring without you picking fights with everyone. But you're back. I saw you in the hall earlier. You looked like actual hell, no offense. I think I saw a cut on your face but I’m not sure, you walk too fast. Are you okay? Getting into actual fights after school too now?

I'm glad you're back anyhow. And I'm glad you're in one piece.

It was longer than usual, but you slipped it in your locker like normal and that was the end of it.

Until it wasn't. That single note seemed to open some sort of door in your mind that green lit a different sort of note.

Dear Fred

So that cut scarred. I noticed it in class. If I'm being honest, I couldn't stop looking at you. Even with a scar, you're beautiful to look at. I couldn't tear my eyes away from you, the way people can’t look away from the TV or something. Not in the way someone looks at a car wreck or something.

You distracted me in a way I enjoyed, like the TV. Consequently, I’m definitely going to bomb out next test, but tis a small price to pay. One I’m likely going to keep making in the foreseeable future.

I don't know how I ever got work done in the past with you sitting in the same room as me. It's as though my eyes are finally open and I can see you for how attractive you really are.

You distract me in the best possible way, Fred Benson.

You hesitated to send that one, so you nearly got caught. You kept turning it over in your hands as you walked back and forth in front of his locker. Debating on if you should leave it or not. Weighing the pro’s and con’s and taking into account the heightened risks.

"Can you move?"

You turned, staring at Fred with wide eyes. And wow was it nice to actually look him in the face. You were usually stuck staring at his side profile because of where he sat and where you sat.

"Uh, hello? You're pacing in front of my locker. So if you could go have an existential crisis about—" he looked you up and down, eyes lingering on your letterman jacket, "some brainless sport, I'd appreciate it."

You blinked. Wow. "Uh, yeah," you intelligently said, stepping to the side. "My bad," you added and very quickly walked away before you could further humiliate yourself.

After a few paces, you looked over your shoulder to find him already staring at you, eyes narrowed and firmly fixed on you. You whipped your head around and walked faster.

You left the note in his locker later, but stopped for about a week and a half. You didn't want to run the risk of him suspecting it was you who was leaving the notes. So, you stopped leaving them for a bit.

When Fred finally stopped giving you looks in the hall, you slipped a new note in his locker. You even taunted him and asked him who he thought was leaving him these notes.

After that one, you waited another week before leaving the riskiest one yet.

Dear Fred

I have a crush on you now. Fuck you and your irresistible seduction techniques, I feel like a middle schooler who just learned what a crush is. This wasn’t supposed to happen. I was just supposed to leave you notes on occasion to maybe make you smile because you always look so grumpy.

But it was inevitable, really; all that time spent staring at you. If I had a type in people, you would fit it like a glove.

You're incredibly smart, passionate and driven, witty, (kind of mean), and very nice to look at. You're a catch. At least in my book.

I get butterflies when you walk in the room, I can barely stand to look you in the eyes without feeling warm and fuzzy. Even though you don't realize the impact you have on me, I can't help but hope for even a small chance with you.

I want to get to really know you. I want to know what makes you, you. I wanna know what gets you going and what you hate. I want to know you.

But alas. Here we are. Maybe one day I'll scrounge up the courage to sign my name at the end of one of these notes.

—

Fred slammed the piece of paper against the table with a loud smack that echoed through the empty paper room. "Look."

Nancy looked up from her lunch and stepped away from the counter she was leaning against. It was then he saw Robin, sitting on the floor next to her. She sprang up though when Nancy walked away.

"What's going on?" She asked as Nancy took the piece of paper from Fred. "Ooh, what's that?" She asked, hooking her chin over Nancy's shoulder to read over her shoulder.

Fred scowled at her. He wouldn't have brought it up if he knew she was in here. It was bad enough Nancy knew. (Actually, it was nice Nancy knew. He could talk about it with her). Robin on the other hand, was a whole other story.

"Fred's been getting notes in his locker all semester," Nancy filled in. "He's got a secret admirer," she teased with a smile.

"Fun," Robin nodded. "Oh wow. 'I get butterflies when you walk in the room', they're so into you!" She excitedly exclaimed, hooking her arms around Nancy's middle.

Fred ignored that. No way was that possible. It was a prank. Some douchebag who thought it was funny to mess with him. He was getting sick of it.

He very firmly ignored the part of him that hoped it was genuine. That whoever was leaving these notes in his locker genuinely liked him.

He didn't like to listen to that part of his brain. It usually led him to crushing disappointment, so he learned it was best to just shove those feelings down until they dissipated. They would, eventually.

"You still have no clue who's giving you these?' Nancy asked, handing Robin the note when she made a grab for it when she tried to give it back to Fred. Robin pressed a kiss to her cheek in gratitude.

"Nope," Fred answered. "One of my English classmates. Or maybe math, that's usually when I find the notes," he shrugged.

"You don't have anyone who seems the type to do this?" Nancy pressed. She was very involved in trying to find Fred someone so he didn't have to always third wheel her and Robin.

Fred did, actually. You. He didn't think you would be the type to write anything as sappy as a love letter considering your jock reputation, but that day you'd been lingering around his locker was suspicious. Plus he didn't get a note til later in the day. It made sense, but also, it confused him a lot more.

Why would you write him a love letter? Was he right? Were you just screwing around with him and you and your other jock buddies were getting a good laugh?

"No," he answered anyway. "No one. I don't even talk to anyone besides you two."

"That's sad," Robin deadpanned. "You don't have any friends? I think that's worse than Steve," she jested, jostling Nancy with a grin.

"Steve has friends," Nancy began, distracted from the topic at hand.

"That are children," Robin finished. "Anyways. Freddie, we need to find you friends. Besides us, because while we are wonderful company…"

Nancy elbowed her with a tight smile.

“Fred,” he corrected for the umpteenth time.

The door suddenly slammed open, making Nancy and Robin jump away from each other. When Fred looked up to see who had arrived, he found himself staring at you, frozen in the doorway. Your hand was still on the doorknob. You quickly hid your other hand behind your back.

When your eyes met his, you very quickly broke eye contact and looked at Nancy and Robin instead. Then your eyes found the paper in Robin’s hands. You opened and closed your mouth a few times before managing a choked, “sorry.”

“Oh, hey, Y/N,” Nancy politely greeted and Fred suddenly remembered that you two were friendly with each other. You had a mutual friend: Steve Harrington.

“Nancy,” you said with a nod of acknowledgement. You stepped back, safely out of the room.

Fred watched you, making eye contact again and frowned when you immediately avoided it. But he said nothing.

“I’m gonna…go,” you said, taking another step backwards and letting the door close as you walked away.

It was silent between the trio for a few moments.

“Dude,” Robin exclaimed. “It was them. They’re writing the letters, one hundred percent. I mean—did you see the way they looked at you!?”

“No,” Fred denied. “Why would it be them? Have you seen them? They hate people like me. Them and their buddies make fun of people like me on a daily basis.”

“Not all jocks are Jason Carver,” said Nancy with a ‘for-your-information’ tone. “I think it could be them, just based on their behavior. They were really avoiding eye contact."

"Maybe they just hate me and don’t want to look at me,” Fred countered. “Maybe they were doing something they’re not supposed to and that's why they were avoiding eye contact. Why would they be here?"

"Maybe they were gonna deliver another letter," Robin suggested with a grin. “And then they seen you and you like, totally ruined their plans.”

“No,” Fred denied again. “Can we stop talking about this now? It wasn’t them. They’re a stupid jock who would mkae fun of me the first chance they got,” he said sourly, snatching the letter back and haphazardly stuffing it into his back pocket.

—

“Ow, what the fuck!?” You furiously hissed, rubbing the back of your head that had just been rudely knocked against the wall. You squinted at whoever had just pulled you into the paper room and proceeded to shove you against the door. You found yourself staring at none other than Fred Benson. You blinked at him. That was unexpected.

“Sorry,” he said, but didn’t at all sound apologetic. “But it’s not easy to find you without your jock buddies and I need answers. Now.”

“Y’know, Benson, you could have just asked to speak with me. No need to assault me,” you said calmly, straightening up and fixing your jacket. You folded your arms across your chest and stared at him. “So? What do you want?”

Your heart was pounding inside your chest and you felt warm low in your gut. Just being this close in proximity to the boy you’d developed a crush on was driving you crazy. But you had to seem calm and collected so he didn’t suspect anything.

“You did it,” he said bluntly. “Didn’t you? The notes in my locker?” He thrust the newly written letter in your face.

Your facade cracked as you forced a laugh, “am I supposed to know what that is?” you asked, glancing at the paper then staring back at him, ignoring the heat rushing to your face in embarrassment. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t lie,” Fred said with a frown, lowering his hand. You could see the doubt crawling into his expression though. “You’ve been writing them for the past few months, haven’t you? You’re the only person who makes sense.”

“I haven’t written anything,” you denied, stronger this time. “Why would I leave notes in your locker? That’s just ridiculous,” you forced out, even though it hurt to say because it wasn’t ridiculous and fuck, you didn’t want to hurt his feelings.

Fred’s frown turned into a scowl.

“I have to go,” you said, clearing your throat and twisting to open the door. But before you could, Fred's voice stopped you.

"Wait."

You paused with a quiet sigh. You turned back around to face him. "What?" You expectantly asked.

You weren't expecting Fred to press his lips against yours and keep them there in a lingering kiss. And you weren't expecting to like it so much.

You pulled away abruptly, your arms coming apart to hold his shoulders. "What was that?!" You exclaimed, shaking him a little. You were just surprised and flustered. And happy it finally happened.

Fred's eyes went wide and fearful. He tensed up beneath your hands and tried to shy away from you.

In an instant, you dropped your hands, stepping back and bumping into the door, but you didn’t care. You showed him your hands, palms out, “shit, Fred, I’m not gonna hit you or anything,” you said quietly, unable to raise your voice.

Fred didn’t look confident that you wouldn’t as he stepped backwards. “I’ve been beat up by your friends before,” he said, finding his voice. “Look, just go. Clearly I was mistaken.”

“No—”

“Go!” He said louder, turning his back on you.

You opened your mouth, but no words came out. So you sighed in defeat and turned around. With your hand on the door knob, you glanced back at him. You watched as he rubbed at his face before turning around. You turned the knob and opened the door, stuffing your free hand into your pocket where it crushed the letter folded up inside. You walked out of the paper room and didn’t look back.

[delimeful]

Helpless (3)

warnings: misunderstandings, spiders/arachnophobia, mild violence

-

Halfway through the woods, Patton heard the distinct sound of someone mumbling.

He paused mid-step, tilting his head to listen with a fair bit of curiosity. The mumbling was quiet enough that he couldn’t make out any individual words, but he could more or less tell which direction it was coming from.

Whatever the source was, they sounded a little frustrated.

He hesitated. Virgil was always emphasizing how careful Patton needed to be in the woods, though how much of that was due to actual danger and how much was the drider being a worrywart over Patton’s ‘chronic inability to defend himself’, he wasn’t sure.

Either way, this didn’t sound like a dangerous wild animal, so it would probably be okay to take a little detour and see what the matter was!

He followed the noise off the trail into a thick copse of trees, eventually coming upon intricate silvery threadwork that wound between them. He was proud to say he only barely shuddered as he ducked past them, his fear of spiders mostly overcome by his affection for his friend.

The webbing got thicker the further he went, and eventually he came upon the source of the mumbling, which appeared to be a whole person, stuck against the outer edge of one of Virgil’s larger webs.

They looked up upon spotting him, eyes bright for a moment before taking him in and visibly dulling with disappointment, which, aside from sorta hurting Patton’s feelings, seemed an odd response for someone in need of help.

“Hello there,” he greeted, waving. “My name’s Patton, I live over at the nearby town. You seem to be in a bit of a prestickament!”

“No, I did this myself,” the stranger corrected, already looking past Patton with disinterest. “It is an attempt to meet with someone I would like to speak with, and they seem the skittish sort, so I would appreciate it if you moved on.”

Patton hummed, more than a little confused. Something about this seemed familiar. “What are you going to do if this person doesn’t show up, though?”

“My arms are free,” they responded, frowning at Patton’s persistence as they wiggled the fingers of their free hand demonstrably. The other hand was occupied with a worn-looking journal. “I will be able to eat and drink, and thus am in no danger.”

“My friend says these woods can get mighty cold at night,” Patton countered, undeterred. “Can’t you meet your friend in town, instead? Why does it have to be a drider’s web?”

And, oh, that was it! Virgil had just been telling him the other day about someone who’d gotten stuck in one of his webs just like this, a mage who had been all-too-delighted to see him. Patton had hardly registered how they’d met, since he’d mostly been very upset to learn that some people would try to use his friend’s body parts as potions ingredients.

“That’s because the drider is the one I’m hoping to speak with,” the stranger replied, as though it should be obvious. “I sincerely doubt they would appreciate an invitation to town.”

Patton stared at the little notebook for a moment, and abruptly put the pieces together. This must have been the stranger that freaked Virgil out so badly!

And he was lying in wait in one of Virgil’s webs… In that case, there was no way he could leave things like this.

“I don’t think the drider is around,” he offered cheerily. “Sometimes they migrate to different areas for different seasons! You won’t meet anyone while hanging around, so I’ll help you down!”

He circled around the tree where most of the webs were rooted, approaching the stranger’s edge of webbing, and found to his surprise that they really were stuck. How they planned to ambush Virgil while stuck in a web, he wasn’t sure, especially since the gambit hadn’t worked on the first attempt either. Magic, maybe?

“How do you know that?” the stranger asked, craning to look at him with sudden interest. “About drider migration cycles.”

Patton shrugged as he plucked at the threads of the web, testing each one to see where they led. “I’m a good listener, so I pick things up here and there. What do you do?”

It seemed to be the right question to ask, since the stranger perked up, distracted from his inquiry.

“I am a researcher,” they informed Patton. “I’m seeking out information on the more reclusive creatures that live in these lands, like driders! This is the first one that I’ve met in person, so if they’re leaving, I need to catch up right away.”

Patton slid the sheath off of the little paring knife he’d taken to carrying and started sawing at one of the threads. “Are you going to try to capture him?” he asked, keeping his voice as even as he could. “You know, for your research.”

“I’m not a bounty hunter,” they replied indignantly. “The behavior of any being would be unnatural and stilted while imprisoned, especially a sapient one. My research is meant to increase humanity's understanding of driders, not to put them on display for entertainment.”

Patton blinked at them, slicing through another strand. “You… aren’t looking to hurt them?”

“No!” They honestly sounded offended by the idea. “I don’t think I ever could, anyhow, the one I met was very large, and they would likely be able to incapacitate me without any trouble.”

“Weren’t you scared?” Patton asked, remembering the terror that had swept through him during that first encounter, when he’d thought the drider was a giant creepy crawly death dealer. Even after he realized, when Virgil yoinked him with his two front legs, Patton had been a little nervous.

“People are only scared of what they don’t understand,” they informed him, chin lifted stubbornly, “and I know more about driders than any other human. I don’t see any reason to be afraid.”

“Wow… You’re really passionate about this, huh?” Patton grinned as he sliced through the last of the support webbing, and with a few snaps, the researcher fell to the ground, only a few strands of silk clinging to them.

“Of course!” they replied, pausing to pull some of the softer webbing bits off of himself and folding them into a pocket of his bag. “The information compiled on them is often vague or outright misleading, and due to their reclusiveness and occasional aggression, nobody else has been able to correct these false accounts.”

They paused, studying the woods around them. “I am… uncertain on how I’m going to discern which area the drider has chosen to migrate to. I don’t suppose you have any idea?”

Patton patted their shoulder. “Don’t worry about that. I think there’s a friend of mine you should meet properly.”

—

“Virgil!” Patton called brightly. “I’m here!”

He had been leading the way through increasingly dense and shadowy foliage for a fair while, now. Logan glanced up from their connected hands to see exactly where he was being pulled to, his heartbeat picking up in speed despite the possibility that this was a cruel prank or even a mugging.

Sure, Patton had described the drider that he’d met a couple of days ago quite accurately, but that was no assurance that he was actually familiar with the being. Most of the townsfolk seemed peripherally aware of ‘Virgil’’s presence, after all, so Patton could have glimpsed him before. It seemed more likely than them being friends. Driders were notoriously solitary, and ‘Virgil’ had seemed quite averse during Logan’s encounter with him, after all.

There was a crack from above, like a branch snapping.

In the next moment, a heavy weight had dropped down from above, knocking Logan to the ground and forcing all the air from his lungs. As he gasped futilely, he realized there were two hands pinning his arms to the ground, and some very familiar fangs put on full display, mere inches from his face.

“Leave him alone,” a very angry drider demanded, his regular voice layered with harsh, gravely rattling.

Logan wheezed in response, absently noting that there were multiple small black eyes visible against the dark marks under the more human set of eyes and wondering just how the two different ocular sensory organs overlapped.

“Virgil, stop!” Patton’s hands appeared at the edge of Logan’s vision, pushing back against Virgil’s shoulders until he eased up, lifting his crouched spider half up only slightly, as though prepared to lunge at Logan again at any moment. “He’s fine! He won’t hurt you!”

Virgil’s glare finally flicked away, though it turned more bewildered-angry than murderous-angry once landing on Patton. Logan wasn’t sure, but he thought the smaller eyes remained locked on him. “This is the mage I told you about! It’s not safe, you need to get out of here--,”

“Mage?” Logan asked, his voice still coming out a little winded. “What are you talking about?”

“He’s not,” Patton said at nearly the same time, “I promise, he just wants to know more about you! Right, Logan?”

“I’m certainly not a mage,” he agreed, rubbing at his arm. The full force of a drider grabbing him… that was going to bruise. He wondered if there was a way to measure that power. “I’m not sure how you got that impression, I don’t have any of the tools mages often carry.”

Virgil looked back and forth between the two humans with clear consternation, and Patton was the one who answered. “Well, most people are afraid at just the sight of him. And… you weren’t.”

“Of course not,” Logan said, still trying to grasp the connection between his lack of fear and his alleged magehood. “I was enthralled. He’s very beautiful.”

Above him, Virgil made a choked-off noise and shuffled back, giving Logan space to sit up and regain full faculty of his senses. Virgil had turned his face away, and Patton was muffling a smile behind his hand.

“Was that… invasive?” Logan asked hesitantly, glancing between the two of them. “I apologize, this is my first research voyage, so I may have become... over-enthusiastic.”

Virgil flapped a hand at him, as though trying to physically dispel his words. “What exactly does a ‘research voyage’ entail?”

Logan straightened up, trying to look as professional as possible while still sitting on the forest floor. He suspected there might be detritus in his hair. “It’s a journey undertaken by apprentice-level researchers to expand their knowledge in their specific field. Often, once they have thorough evidence and a compelling thesis, they will return to their teacher and present this in order to advance as a journeyman.”

Of course, Logan had no intention of doing that. He was going to spend as long as he could traveling and learning and compiling his knowledge, until nobody could argue that he wasn’t suited to the world of scholars.

“And your field is… spiders? Monsters?” Virgil asked, eyebrows raised dubiously.

“I am attempting to correct the misconceptions that are so rampant in bestiaries,” Logan corrected. “So many depend on them, but I’ve found very few actually capture the intricacies of the cultures and habits of nonhuman magical beings. They read more like old wives’ tales, passed down and warped with time, and both the scientific community and the beings in question suffer for it.”

“Huh.” Virgil tilted his head slightly, and Logan realized that at some point his smaller eyes had closed, the dark creases vanishing amidst the pockets of shade under his eyes.

“That sounds like the bestiary way to help people!” Patton added, and Logan watched in disbelief as Virgil’s expression relaxed further, the drider snorting softly.

“So all I’d have to do is… be a drider in front of you?” he asked, one of his back legs tapping against the ground in a remarkable imitation of the way a nervous human might tap their foot. Logan nodded. “I guess… it could work. And it’d be nice to have someone else around who won’t scream at the sight of me.”

“New friend!” Patton cheered, looking perhaps more delighted at the idea than Logan’s presence really warranted. “Only the spidaring are cool enough to be friends with Virgil.”

“Is the wordplay going to be a regular thing with him?” Logan asked, his face pinching sourly.

“Better get used to it. He’s punstoppable,” Virgil replied, grinning toothily when Logan shot him a betrayed look. Logan thought he seemed pleased, going by the subtle twitching of his pointy ears.

Logan hid a small smile of his own. Perhaps following Patton wasn't the unwisest decision he'd ever made, after all.

[ramzawrites]

May I request a fic of Ranboo meeting another endermen hybrid, but he's inherited different traits than ranboo?

For example teleporting without pearls, getting annoyed at eye contact, automatically dodging projectiles and a huuuge mouth when angry?

Maybe them teaching each other about things?

Two halves make a whole - Reader and Ranboo

GN

Pairings: none

Characters included: Ranboo, Technoblade, Philza

Warnings: cursing

Series: a request from 🌱🌟 <3

Summary: Y/N has no real idea how they managed to end up in this snow biome. All they know is that they need help or they will freeze to death. Lucky for them they meet another Enderman Hybrid with a soft spot for helping out.

Words count: 2606

Authors Note: I hope this is fine! I’m a bit struggling with writing at the moment so I didn’t take the proper chance yet to proof read it multiple times.

I know you used he in the request but I wasn’t sure enough if you wanted me to use these pronouns since I usually always use GN pronouns. I hope this is fine and if you had hope for he/him I’m sorry! I did remember I never established this and because of this added a rule that if you guys want different pronouns then please make that clear to me.

Y/N rubbed their hands together in front of their mouth, blowing warm air into them that in return turned into a small opaque cloud.

Truth be told they didn’t know how they exactly landed inside this snow biome. They were traveling around like usual, carrying their most necessary things with them only to be overwhelmed by the amount of hostile mobs that appeared around them. Not really having the best gear to fight them off, they had to flee which lead them to this place.

Severely underestimating the climate they had hoped to find a good place to hunker down for a short while to deal with some of their wounds and growing hunger so they could move on again.

It felt like hours had passed until Y/N finally spotted some kind of buildings near a mountain. Maybe if they were lucky the place was empty? Honestly probably not seeing how they could spot light inside the windows but what could they do at this point.

Either talking to potentially dangerous strangers or they had to find something different and seeing how they were shivering and getting more tired they opted to try their luck anyhow.

Once they got closer they did indeed see someone in red robes cutting fire wood while someone else was helping him by putting the next piece of wood on the chopping block around the corner.

The man in the red robes was clearly a Hybrid as well; pink hair, tusks and pig like ears.

The other one seemed to be a Hybrid as well judging by the fact that one half of his body was black and the other white, complete with two different eye colors.

Y/N moved one of their hands off their bicep as they were hugging themself from the cold, waving towards them “Hello, can I talk to you?” They spoke between clattering teeth.

The Pig Hybrid looked up and placed the other end of the netherite axe he was carrying in his palm, making sure to stand as tall and broad as he could. He obviously tried to look as intimidating as possible and it worked.

The tall lanky one looked almost scared as he spotted Y/N, almost hiding behind the other Hybrid which was a tiny bit funny due to their height difference.

“I’m not here to hurt you, I just need help. I’m a bit wounded and need to warm up before I can continue. I’ll make sure to repay you in some sort.” Y/N ranted off.

The two strangers didn’t react, instead the Pig Hybrid seemed to take a better look at Y/N. He looked them up and down only to end up staring them directly into their lilac eyes. A trait they inherited as an Enderman Hybrid but this wasn’t the only thing they inherited.

Now here they were trying their best to look as sympathetic and unthreatening as possible, since they were for a fact pretty harmless, but that man was looking them right in the eyes and this hot fuzzing anger was slowly building up inside them. There are only a few things that they absolutely hated and direct eye contact was one of them.

Y/N bit themself on their tongue trying their best to stay composed but still begun speaking through gritted teeth as they broke the eye contact “I would fucking appreciate it if you wouldn’t look at me like that.”

They were surprised with their own malice but it was just something they had problems controlling.

“So you are an Enderman Hybrid. What are you doing here?” The Pig Hybrid spoke in a monotone voice which only seemed to add to his intimidation.

“Wait, they are an Enderman Hybrid?” This time the other one spoke up, obviously curious about that.

Y/N nodded and looked back towards the two, the Pig Hybrid luckyily was now staring at his axe “Yeah. I am. I can tell you more about myself but I really do need help, please?”

The strangers looked at each other as if they tried to mentally discuss this but got interrupted by a thud. Y/N fell down into the snow. The cold and wounds have finally gotten to them. The two having now a better view of their back saw that two arrows were burrowed in their back as well.

The Pig Hybrid sighed “I really don’t want to deal with that.”

“Then let me, Techno.” The other replied.

Techno raised one of his eyebrows “Really, Ranboo? Is it because they are an Enderman Hybrid as well?”

Ranboo didn’t answer immediately “Perhaps but I can’t let them freeze to death here, just help me get them in my home then I’ll make sure we won’t bother you.”

“You are lucky I’m in a charitable mood.” He answered as he softly put his axe away.

When Y/N awoke they felt horrible. Their whole body was hot and sore but at least they were alive. In fact they were safely laying in a soft bed inside. Inside where though? The room they were in was pretty small but what jumped immediately to their vision was the mismatched green and red carpet. Interesting interior design, then again it reminded them of that other Hybrid with his red and green eyes. Maybe this was his home?

That’s when they remembered their last moments before they collapsed, they suddenly threw away their blanket away and put their feet back on the ground.

Y/N had to find the owners of this home and thank them, well, and find a way to repay them. In truth they said it before but they had nary a diamond or emerald on them.

As they tried to stand up they suddenly felt dizziness cloud their mind forcing them to sit down again, clutching their aching head. Great, looks like they had a fever now as well.

“Oh, uh, you are awake? How- How are you feeling?” The sturdy iron door opened up and the tall lanky one from before walked in. So they were correct. It was his house.

“I didn’t put on a good first expression, huh. Thank you for helping me despite that. I, uh, feel better! My wounds feel better at least, now I just have to deal with this headache and fever but since I’m not freezing to death anymore I should be able to care of that.” Y/N answered “I’m Y/N by the way.”

Their host nodded “I mean that’s expected I suppose. Oh! My name is Ranboo! Uhm, feel free to stay here until your fever dies down. I brought some food with me as well for you. Not sure if you are hungry though.”

Ranboo then presented Y/N with some bread and they felt like they could cry right then and there “Oh, definitely.” Happily they started munching on it as Ranboo awkwardly stood by the side, obviously trying to avert his eyes.

Y/N tried to fill the awkward air with the next best question that came to their mind “So, what do I owe you?”

“Nothing, I would have felt terrible if I didn’t do anything, besides I was kind of curious as well.”

“Curious?”

“I have never met a fellow Enderman Hybrid and I was curious to see what you can do.”

They had to laugh at that a bit. The same was true for Y/N they have never met an Enderman Hybrid since they are pretty rare “You mean what I inherited from Endermen? Like me getting annoyed when people look directly in my eyes? Sorry about that again.”

Ranboo nodded, staring at his hands as he nervously moved them around “Don’t worry about it but yeah things like that. I have some things I can do as well. I can’t touch water at all for example.”

Y/N frowned at that “Oh, that must suck. I fortunately don’t have to deal with that but that does answer one of my questions I always had. Seems like other Hybrids do inherit different things after all.”

“Yeah, that is actually pretty cool! If you feel good enough to get up I could show you what else I can do.”

Y/N continued munching on their bread but tried getting up only for the dizziness to set back in but this time they pushed through “I feel a bit dizzy but fresh air will probably help me. Now I’m curious what else you can do, maybe I can show you my other ability as well.”

The fellow Enderman Hybrid looked at bit worried at Y/N but continued to open up the door for the two oft them. The cold hit Y/N like a brick which made them even more grateful that Ranboo pulled them out of it.

Ranboo walked over to the side of the mountain, getting rid off the snow on top of some dirt. He then made sure that Y/N was watching as he worked on picking the block up.

Normally a grass block would turn into a normal dirt block once you have picked it up but the green grass stayed on when he moved it up towards himself. With a happy sigh he placed the block down at a different place. A satisfied smile on his face.

“I can pick up blocks as if my hands have silk touch, it also calms me down if I do that.”

This time Y/N nodded, absolutely amazed by this “What? No way! Have you ever tried like picking up a spawner?  I heard there is no way for them to not be destroyed! They are so fragile they even break when you use a tool with silk touch!”

“Yeah! I can actually! They turn into a different kind of spawner though.”

Y/N was absolutely bewildered by this in the best possible way “That is so cool! Next to that is my ability pretty mundane I feel like.”

He perked up at that “What is it?”

As an answer Y/N held up their hand in a gesture of “just look”. They turned away from him and looked up head only to disappear into purple particles and appear a good twenty blocks ahead in another spout of purple particles.

This time it was Ranboo’s time to look absolutely amazed by it and let out his own string of words to show his amazement.

Y/N teleported back, surprising Ranboo “Yeah, I was feeling too bad yesterday otherwise I probably wouldn’t have even landed here. Hell, I wouldn’t have been as badly damaged probably.” They felt pretty good about their ability but now it really just worsened their headache which made them clutch their head for the second time.

As a response Ranboo ushered them back into his house where they gratefully sat back down on the soft bed.

Inside Ranboo paced around “Oh! This is so cool! I feel like we both could do amazing things! Together we are one full Enderman! I want to show your abilities to Technoblade and Philza so bad.” He was excitedly rambling his thoughts off which made Y/N laugh.

They laughed so hard that Ranboo noticed how wide their mouth managed to open up. Not only were their eyes similar to that of an Enderman but apparently their mouth as well. You couldn’t have seen it when they were just talking normally so it looked like something they had semi control over. Ranboo couldn’t help but think that Y/N was a tiny bit more Enderman than him. Then again this shouldn’t be a surprise seeing that he was only one part Enderman Hybrid while he didn’t even know what his others is.

“Uh, sorry.” Ranboo rubbed the back of his neck in embarrassment once he realized they were laughing at him.

They shook their head “I’m so sorry Ranboo it’s just we only barely know each other and now you wanna show me around to people? I don’t mind of course it just seemed to come out of nowhere.” They stopped laughing feeling a bit bad about it and added “I mean I’m probably just as excited as you are that I have found someone like me. I’m not sure what will happen but I do hope we can be friends!”

After that Ranboo let them rest in peace. Only occasionally coming in asking if they needed anything more. The next few days were similar only that Ranboo and Y/N took a few walks around the place for a bit.

At some point they finally got to know who this Philza was that Ranboo mentioned one time. Next to Technoblade, whom they have only seen once after they collapsed, he seemed to be a nice fellow. Some sort of Bird Hybrid as well.

The irony that they apparently arrived at a place full with Hybrids didn’t get lost on them.

Philza seemed to be excited over Y/N’s teleporting ability as well, also talking about how they could easily annoy and even fight people if they really wanted to. At the point Y/N laughed it off but they were a bit worried that this was one of his first thoughts when he learned of them. Ranboo seemed to be in the same boat. It didn’t help that Philza reiterated this sentiment once he saw how Y/N automatically avoided a flying arrow via teleportation.

Technoblade was a difficult character to deal with. Always sounding monotone and looking as uninterested as possible but it also felt like he was constantly judging them.

This only seemed to lighten once Technoblade asked “So, uh, what is your opinion on governments?”

Ranboo furrowed his brows but seemed to be interested in their answer as well.

Y/N hesitated a bit before answering, clearly confused by this “I’m not- I try to stay away from it? I don’t understand it very well and it usually spells only problems for me so, yeah, I try to stay away from it.”

Though after they answered Ranboo was still tense, staring at Technoblade, his landlord as he had explained.

Technoblade didn’t look Y/N directly in the eyes but he did stare at them with a stern expression “I suppose that is good enough. Continue staying away from it and we won’t have a problem.”

Ranboo let out a deep breath. This must have been more important than Y/N initially thought.

It was only once Y/N and Ranboo were alone they asked him about it. He explained to them that Technoblade and essentially everyone here were anarchists due to different reasons and everyone who aligns themselves with any kind of government isn’t allowed on these premises.

Once Y/N felt good enough to potentially move on, they kind of just didn’t. It hasn’t been a long time yet but Y/N managed to become good friends with Ranboo. In fact they became such good friends he offered to build and extension for Y/N to his house, even if they only wanted to use it as a place to rest between travels.

They also managed to get into Technoblade’s and Philza’s good graces by continuously offering to help them out and getting them good recourses. It didn’t take long for the two to be attached to them as well, so when Ranboo asked them if Y/N could move in with him the two gave them the okay.

Techno did point out though that Y/N had to pay rent as well then. Y/N paid that rent in the form of an amazing Trident specialized for combat.

“Seems like we have two Endermen on our side that like to enchant things, huh” Phil noted once Techno showed him the Trident.

“Don’t get too excited, Phil. It’s just their way of paying rent to me.”

“Aw! You are happy, Techno!”

“I am not. I am miserable. They didn’t give me a perfect gift whatsoever. This is mediocre at best.”

[loousir]

[Satyr} Insecurities

Soft Male Presenting NB Satyr x Male Reader

Dakota

Warnings: Dakota get comforted by you after a sudden breakup and you end up confessing, they realized they like you too, mentions of alcohol (tho not explicitly stated other than beer), two faced boyfriend (now ex)

Masterlist

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Currently, you are on your way to third wheel for your best friend, Dakota. This guy that Dakota was dating was one that you really did not like. He was all sweet and kind around Dakota but the second they turned their back, he was a complete jerk. You knew you should tell Dakota but they just looked so happy being with this guy that you didn't want to ruin this momentary happiness.

Anyhow, both of you were walking down the street to a small yet busy pub that he had asked Dakota to meet. Dakota had asked him if you could come and he said yes but you knew he would have said no if that didn't ruin his "perfect boyfriend" image. You developed feelings for Dakota years ago, long into your friendship with him but you never confessed. You knew they didn't feel the same so you decided to just try to be the very best friend you could be.

Dakota pointed out the place you two were going and you followed them up to the front door. You opened it for them and they almost instantly spot their boyfriend, going over to him and hugging him. You smiled a sad smile and looked at the two before joining them at their table. He had sent Dakota off to get drinks for the three of you. "How have you been (R/n)?" He looks over to you with a not glare for once. "I'm breaking up with him."

Your eyes widened slightly. "What?" He nods. "Yeah I got hit pretty hard in the face with reality after the last time we met." His whole demeanor had changed from what it was before. You tried to say something but Dakota came back with a beer bottle and two glasses. They set one of the glasses down in front of you and handed the bottle to their soon to be ex who's demeanor went back to perfect boyfriend mode.

You smiled at Dakotas smile before taking a drink of what they got you. "Ah, (R/n)! Did you see the new episode yesterday? It was so good!" Dakota said before going on to ramble about bits and pieces. (R/n) smiled and nodded, chatting about said episode with Dakota.

A few minutes had past with the three of you talking before (R/n) decided it was time to bring the bad news. "Dakota." They looked up to (R/n) who looked like he just accidentally kicked a puppy. Dakota noticed and went to grab his hands to ask what's wrong but he pulled away. You looked away out of courtesy but still listened in. "I'm sorry Dakota. I dont think we can be together anymore. Its really me, not you. You've been nothing but good to me and I want you to be happy but it can't be with me."

"Maybe we'll see each other around. Don't worry about paying for drinks, I'll cover it on the way out." He said standing up to leave. Dakota couldn't seem to process what what happening as they watched their now ex-boyfriend walk away. "Kota, let's go." You said standing and grabbing their hand.

They didn't move but instead started to shake slightly. "Dakota, please." You pulled them up and practically dragged them out of the pub and stopped when you were a block away from it. Dakota hadn't said a word but held on tightly to your hand. "Do you wanna go back to your house?" You asked, looking to them. They nodded softly, more hair moving to cover their usually covered eyes.

You squeezed their hand gently as the two of you walked back to Dakotas place. It wasn't too far from the pub so neither of you saw the point in taking the car. After a few minutes of walking, Dakota stopped, making you look back. "Im... S-so sorry... I... I cant..." They tried to say something but ended up almost collapsing, legs shaking like crazy. You caught them before they could and opted to carry them the rest of the way.

Dakota holds onto you and cries into your neck. You gently rub the back of their head and whisper reassuring words into their ears. After a few more minutes of walking, you make it to the house and carefully unlock the door and close it behind you before taking them upstairs to their bedroom. "I'll go grab some water. I'll be right back ok?"

You head back down stairs, lost in thought as you grabbed water from the fridge before heading back up. You didn't expect to see what you did though.

Your body stood ridgid with shock. Standing in front of you, staring back with wild and afraid eyes was your best friend of 5 years. They looked like they were wearing pants but they weren't. Their legs were covered in dark brown fur, same colour as their hair. Your eyes followed the soft digitigrade shape down to the cloven hooves in place of feet. A small tail to match laid tight against their body.

"Dakota..?"

You breathed out hesitantly. They seemed to snap out of whatever trance they were in for a moment and they started to shake. "Hey... Hey whats wrong?" You asked as you very slowly approached them, as if the wrong step could send them sprinting away. They didn't say a word and you eventually got to their side. You very carefully grabbed their hand but they pulled it away faster than you could blink.

They looked at you with such fear that you could barely even tell if it was your sweet Dakota anymore. A tense moment passed as you had seen his eyes for the first time. You gently took their hand again and pressed their palm against your chest. They could feel your heart pounding, theirs was probably just as fast. You and Dakota had this thing where if one of you were panicking, the other would place a hand on the heart of the one whos panicking. It usually ended with a hug but it was really just a comfort thing that Dakota had started with you when they had a panic attack in public. Once they had seemed to realized, some lever must have flipped as they pulled you into a tight hug.

"(Y/n)..."

You hugged them back, gently placing a hand on the back of their head to keep them close. A silent minute had past before you felt your shoulder getting wet again. "I'm so sorry." It was barely a whisper but you heard it. Neither of you said a word after that. Dakota pulled their head out from the crook of your neck and rested their forehead against your chest.

"I didn't want you to find out like this..." Their voice was small as they spoke, hands gripping tightly to the back of your shirt. You carefully set a hand on their cheek, coaxing them to look up to you. Their eyes were red and slightly puffy from crying. The bright green, almost yellow irises stood out against their pink-ish scleras. "Your eyes are so beautiful." You mumbled out without thinking.

Dakota blushed and looked away. "I know you probably don't wanna talk so let's sit down and I'll go first." You lead them over to the bed and both of you sat down. "Judging by your reaction you didn't want me knowing about the whole... Lower half thing." You paused to look at Dakota who nodded. "Sorry." You said, still processing everything. Dakota shook their head. "N-no... I..."

"I don't know what to say..." Dakota said with a heavy sigh. "It's ok. You don't have to say anything-" They cut you off before you could continue. "(Y/n) I've lied to you for 5 years about it! Of course I have to say something!" You looked away from them and sighed. "I would be lying if I said it didn't upset me that you never told me what you were." Without hesitation, you grabbed Dakotas hand again, staring at it as they let you intertwine your fingers. "But I always had a feeling you weren't exactly human anyways... Of course I wanted to know but I didn't want you to feel uncomfortable around me."

Dakota looked to your eyes, tears welling up in theirs again. You could see that they wanted to apologize for not saying anything but you just shook your head. "Kota, I could care less that your a Satyr. If anything I like you even more." You mumbled the last part but they still heard it anyway, signaled by the blush that rose to their cheeks yet again. Dakota placed their free hand on your cheek and made you look back to them.

"I love you so fucking much Kota. You don't even know. I'm sorry. This is probably a lot on top of me finding out about probably your biggest secret and the... Y'know." Dakota shook their head. "Its all been so overwhelming. I'm honestly surprised I haven't passed out yet." You let a small huff of a laugh pass as they pulled your face closer to theirs. "You seemed to have calmed down a lot." You mumbled out.

Dakota nodded. "Yeah. I guess I'm... Relieved... I've known you long enough that I know you when you aren't feigning truths." They pause for a moment. You took this moment to observe their tear stained face. "(Y/n). I dont ever want you to leave me." Their voice had been shaky since you found out about them being a Satyr but it was even worse when they said that. "I couldn't truly live if you weren't in my life Kota."

They looked at you with wide eyes. "Sorry, said something weird didnt-" You were cut off by a pair of soft lips against yours. You carefully kissed back, tangling your hand in their soft, fuffy hair. The second both of you pulled away, Dakota smiled and pulled you into a tight hug. "Kota-" "I think him breaking up with me was the best decision ever." You furrowed your brows, really confused.

"What? Why? I though you two were happy together." Dakota nodded. "I was happy. But I also saw how unhappy you were. A-and it made me realize... Just how much I wanted to make you happy because you make me happy." You couldn't say anything but just looked at them with surprise. "Can I... Can I kiss you?" You asked quietly. Dakota laughed and nodded, pulling you into a kiss.

Your hands decided to test the waters a bit and you gently ran a hand through the soft fur that coat their leg. They shivered and gripped onto your shirt, leaning into the kiss more. You pulled away and let your hand linger on their thigh. "Did... Did you really mean it when you said that you liked me more knowing I was a Satyr?" You blushed and laughed awkwardly while looking away. "Yeah... I didn't realize I said that out loud."

Dakota let out a gentle laugh and pulled you into a tight hug. "Let's take a nap, I'm tired after crying so much..." You nodded and kissed their neck softly as the two of you laid down.

"Please stay by my side."

I originally started this one shot at the paragraph that starts at "Your body stood ridgid with shock." so sorry if everything above it seemed weird-

---

1890

[dustofbrokenheart]

The Lost Boys: Call 911

GIF by lostinsantacarla

Paul x Reader

Word Count: 2,550

Summary: Reader is out on patrol as part of the Santa Carla PD when they respond to a call out at the wharf. 

Amid the riotous flare of fireworks and fire crackers, it was difficult to make out the quickly approaching cop car but Marko prided himself on being observative.

Paul, Paulie, P-Man, his forever partner on the other hand…

Grabbing Paul by the front of his tank, he pulled the other vampire down to hiss in his ear. “We got company. We bail on my signal, got it?”

The honey blonde nodded distractedly, mesmerized by the bright bursts of colors overhead. The reds and blues and whites and pinks mixed with the curtain of smoke, creating a kaleidoscope against the inky night sky. 

He only heard part of what Marko was gripping about—something about a signal—but it wasn’t his fault he was having so much fun.

Another of their fireworks went off from behind Max’s Video, making him laugh even harder when some empty pallets became collateral. They splintered into pieces, the crunching sound of the wood masked by the other explosions.

Nothing said summer time fun like launching some Big Boys at the video store. It was a rockin’ light show and piss-off-Max scheme all wrapped in one. The crochety, old douche in question would no doubt have some choice words for them later but Paul wasn’t thinking about that; the only thing on his mind was blowing shit up.

In fact, he was so into it that he wasn’t prepared for the sharp punch to his ribs. He flew into the wall as Marko ran past, scampering to get airborne. “Go, go, go!”

The back door to the store opened with such force that it banged into the wall with a loud crack. Paul could sympathize. Two officers came through and before he could even think to pick himself up and run, they were on him.

The rounder of the two sat on his back, putting all his pounds into pinning Paul down. Normally, he would’ve thrown him off and maybe, probably, killed him, no sweat.

But.

There were too many people around that could catch him in the act. There’s no way Max would step in and not even Paul was stupid enough to slaughter that many people in plain sight.

Marko, he whined through the bond. A little help, bud? I’m kinda stuck.

All he got back was a manic cackle.

Paul squawked in outrage, knowing that the other would not be lending an assist. That traitor was all too content to sit back and laugh at him.

Whatever.

Screw him then.

It’s not like Paul had never been hauled in before anyhow.

“You know,” he grunted to the cop on his back, “It’s a good thing you’re not fat or anything, otherwise this would be more difficult.”

The knee dug into his back even harder and his head was pulled back by his hair. It didn’t hurt that much but still! He worked for hours to make his hair look good!

“Police brutality! I have rights, you know!” he yelled. The cop was starting to get on his nerves.

His face was shoved back into the ground and he ate gravel, sputtering to get the pebbles and grime out of his mouth with mixed success. The taste lingered and the only way to get rid of it would be to wash it down with something—

Hmm. He hadn’t planned on feeding that night but some pig blood would take care of it nicely.

He attempted to at least think of an isolated spot to rip out his throat without getting caught. Maybe in the cop car. Maybe he could drag him to the bushes outside of the station.

Oh! If the guy stopped for doughnuts, he could steal the car—doughnuts sounded good though. A nice chocolate glaze with sprinkles or something filled with strawberry jelly! The corner store on the boulevard had the best selection this time of night. He needed more hairspray, too, as long as he was at it, a magazine or three—he shook his head.

Come on, self, get it together!

“I’m going to find the one that ran. Officer Y/LN, you take this idiot back to the car and sit tight until I get back.”

Roughly, he was hauled to his feet and he had been so focused on the tub of lard that had him on the ground that he forgot two cops had burst through the door.

He planted his feet and refused to be moved as he glanced at the second one. It was like pushing at a stone wall, the other at his back unable to shove him into motion.

Immediately, Paul realized his mistake.

Why was he so occupied with that other asshole when he could’ve been looking at you, been pressed up against you the entire time?

The saying was that everyone loved a person in uniform and Paul was no exception. You made the normally dull standard navy uniform look good, the short sleeves showing off your arms and the pants managed to cup your ass in the tastiest way.

He’d cup your ass even better, if you gave him the chance.

Even the serious, disapproving scowl on your face was hot. What he wouldn’t do to get you to make that face with you on top of him, manhandling him any which way you wanted.

Screw his little feeding plan. He was willing to spare your partner in exchange for getting to know you better.

A big happy smile stretching across his face, he finally moved, dragging your partner rather than being forced forward.

“Hey, sexy,” he said with his signature wink, the one that always got him what he wanted with people. “Name’s Paul.”

To his disappointment, you didn’t respond and merely took control of his handcuffed hands as they were passed over.

As you lead him back through the video store, he pulled his arms to the left, acting like he was trying to resist. Just like he expected, you corrected him with a strong, tight grip that sent a rush down his spine.

“Ouch, babe, not so rough,” he purred. “I’m very sensitive.”

He glanced back quick to see your reaction and his bottom lip pushed out in a pout. You still wore a straight face that gave nothing away. No clenched jaw, no embarrassed tightening of your eyes. Definitely no hint of an amused smile.  

Gods, babe. You were really testing him.

Guess he’d have to try harder.

*** 

You were new to the Santa Carla Police Department. Very new. New as in it was your first incident on your first night on patrol.

It was just your luck that you’d ended up with airhead who’d set off a whole fireworks display right outside of a crowded store, which could have serious injury, and was now trying to flirt his way out of it.

Hell—was he pouting?

For a city of its size, Santa Carla PD had a surprising number of job openings. You were new to the area, having moved because it seemed like a nice, sunny California beach town and you were in need of a change.

You didn’t have any prior experience but you’d passed all the screenings and tests and expected the job offer they made. It had benefits, the pay was good, and, importantly, it was legal which seemed to be in short supply around these parts.

That last part was a surprise, especially with the high number of missing people’s cases; you’d think that more places would be desperate to fill jobs, too.

Steering the suspect towards the check out counter, you flagged down the owner who had been the called in to the station.

He turned towards you with a smile on his face and greeted you politely. “Hello, officer.”

“We caught one suspect, sir. The other fled the scene and my partner went after him. I’ll get started on the report—are you planning to press charges?”

The smile was suddenly no where to be seen and he casted a glare at the handcuffed blonde.

“But of course. I’ve told this degenerate and the others in this gang to stay out of here a hundred times before. They’ve gone too far this time.”

The suspect merely shrugged his shoulders and winked at you which set the owner off further.

“That! That right there is what I’m talking about. No respect, no conduct. How is a father supposed to parent if he gets no respect? Maybe they’re missing a motherly influence,” he trailed off.

A motherly influence? Okaaay, then.

Clearing your throat, you tried to bring the conversation back to topic. “Yeah…Well let me put him in the car and then we can get started on the report. Have a good night, sir.”

That should’ve been the end of it but of course the blonde had to open his big mouth. “Bye daddy!”

Max’s hand came down heavy on the counter and you jostled the boy away before he managed to start a full-blown confrontation.

“You surely have a big mouth for someone who’s being arrested. Don’t make things worse for yourself.”

His head perked up and you had to really plant your weight to keep him from turning around and sending you flying into a display in the process. Definitely stronger than he looked.

You noted that piece of information just in case he tried anything else.

“Aww. Are you worried about me?” he cooed. “Don’t be. I trust you to protect me, officer.”

“Any one ever tell you that you’re ridiculous?”

“All the time,” he nodded happily.

The profile of the suspect was coming together in your mind. Clearly, he was simple.

Happy and excitable, and yes, even pretty, but simple.

There’s no way he had been the mastermind behind the firework plot; that honor was likely saved for the one who escaped. He probably hadn’t agreed to do it with malicious intent either. Unfortunately, his inability to think things through had landed him in trouble and he was your problem now.

When you got to the entryway he even tried to the door open. “After you, officer.”

With a resigned sigh, you prodded him forward. Again. Really, this guy was worse than a puppy. A puppy could eventually be trained to listen but seeing as how he was late teens/early twenties, it was doubtful he ever would.

“You said your name was Paul?”

The p in his ‘yep’ popped.

“Last name?”

“Just Paul. I wouldn’t mind getting your name though.”

There’s no way you were telling him that. He would be that much more insufferable if he knew. And try as he might to hide his full name, that would come out when you booked him at the station.

“Well, Paul. You’re being charged with public endangerment and vandalism. Under California law, those are both misdemeanor crimes so most likely—”

“Yeah, yeah.” He waved away your words with a flick of his head. Annoyed, you yanked on the cuffs, causing him to moan. “I do appreciate a good pair of handcuffs.”

“You—!” You had to stop yourself from calling him a little shit out loud. No one would’ve stopped you, but you felt weird about it, almost like it would come off as being unprofessional.

Taking a deep breath, you tried to bring your voice back down. “Saying crazy things is only going to make things worse for you.”

“Promise to punish me if I don’t?” Another wink was flashed at you.

It was at that point you noticed he had long lashes for a male. They fluttered like butterfly wings whenever he blinked. Except you had a job to do and really shouldn’t care about how pretty he was.

You were so caught up in your thoughts that it took you by surprise when he leaned in close. Acting on tactical instinct, you threw him against the police vehicle, his torso pressed against the hood with legs spread wide.

The position was designed to be as uncomfortable as it looked so that there was little to no chance of him bucking you off. Good.

“Need I remind you,” you said gruffly, “That you are under arrest. Don’t test me.” 

“You should most definitely frisk me,” he panted.

You sincerely hoped it was pain, and not from pleasure, but from your brief encounter with Paul, it honestly could be the latter. Your own heart was pounding in your chest as well but that was due to the adrenaline pumping through your system.

Or so you maintained.

Still, he had a point. Frisking was standard procedure to make sure the suspect was carrying anything potentially dangerous, or illegal. Hell. You were going to have to give into this particular demand, weren’t you?

Wanting to get it over with, you tried to be as fast as possible while still be thorough.

His muscles were surprisingly cold as you felt up his arms and then his back. It was summertime and when most people had problems overheating, it didn’t seem to be an issue for him.

You dreaded going anywhere near his ass but it had to be done. He even insisted on ‘helping’ by pushing his cheeks further into your hands by curving his lower back as you patted down his pants pockets.

“Check the front too. I could have anything down my pants, ya know.”

That didn’t sound suggestive at all. His flirtations were so over the top is was near comical at that point. You couldn’t let him know that though. You were the authority figure in this situation.

“Alright smart guy, the frisking is over with. And surprise, surprise there was exactly nothing in your pants.”

“You wound me, babe.” If he had use of his arms, his hand would’ve definitely been placed over his heart.  

Standing him upright, you opened the door to seat him in the back. That had been the plan any way.

One second you held his metal clad wrists firmly in your grip and in the next, he twisted himself away effortlessly.

He spread his hands apart and although they each had a shiny steel band around them, the chain that had connected them broke off with a metallic clink.

Just like that he was completely mobile and he wasted no time.

In another imperceptible move, he covered your back with his front, his breath tickling you.

You couldn’t hold back a shiver.

“It’s been a pleasure, officer, but I really should get going. I’m just too cute for jail.” He rolled his head and his nose traced the shell of your ear with a deep inhale. “This was fun though. Let’s do it again, hmm?”

He shoved you into the back seat and luckily your reflexes were fast enough to catch yourself before you face planted into the leather seat. Thrashing like mad, you spun around as fast as you could but it was no use: Paul was already gone.

Stumbling out, you looked back and forth hoping to catch a glimpse of what direction he went but it was useless. Not only was that little shit stronger than he seemed, he was also faster.

Noted.

With a sinking realization, you knew you were going to have to explain this to your partner.

Oh, you were not looking forward to this…

Worst first night on a job ever.

_______________

Hope you enjoyed Paul! I feel like this is goofy and over the top but I guess that’s basically Paul’s vibes in a nutshell. Marko has definitely gotten Paul arrested before and Max has definitely called the cops on them before too haha. Thanks for reading <3

[thestarrynightslover]

It’s a Good Day to Have a Bad Date

Pairing: Jay Halstead x Reader

Word count: 2,383

Warnings: Slight mentions of an OC with criminal priors, violent tendencies, and a juvenile record. A teeny-tiny bit of angst.

Summary: The reader meets Jay as she's trying to find out stuff about the guy she's about to go out with and ends up switching dates.

Disclaimer: I don’t own any of the One Chicago shows, or its characters, also not associated with it in any way or know anyone involved with it.

A/N: Just to make one thing clear: I did some research on Illinois's laws  (not sure I got it right tho) and, apparently, this fic is very inaccurate. But I really wanted to pursue the idea, so just humor me, please 🙏🏻. Anyways, I had a lot of fun while writing this and thought about making a part two... But I'm not sure. Tell me what you think! 💗

| masterlist |

You inhaled deeply one more time before you walked into the police district. There wasn’t even a real reason for you to be so nervous about it. You weren’t a victim and you weren’t a criminal. So, what’s the worst that could happen? 

The worst that could happen was, of course, you getting a bunch of cops mad at you because you went to waste their time with some pathetic whining. It was decided, you were gonna turn back around right now, while you still had time, and just go home.

On second thought, though, it was a matter of public safety. Your safety. Which was just as valid because you were just as much of a U.S. citizen as anyone else. So you went in. 

Shit. The place was almost empty, which meant everyone would notice if you left. And they’d ask questions, so you figured you’d, at least, get ahead of them, as you walked shyly towards the front desk. There, you were met by an older woman who looked bored, and still, terrifying.

“Can I help you with something?” She asked you, while cautiously checking you out. Oh my God, she thought you could be a victim! You were such an idiot.

“Um, it’s, um, it’s actually nothing, really. I shouldn’t even have come here in the first place.” You told her while smiling a little. What you didn’t know was that what you said had only raised more flags in the sergeant’s mind, even catching the attention of a tall man writing some things down on a paper at the corner of the counter. The young detective stayed back because he knew that Platt would know how to manage the situation, but continued listening to every word of the conversation.

The sergeant, then, took her glasses off, setting them on the counter. “Listen, miss, my name is Trudy Platt and the reason why I became a cop was that I wanted to help people, in every way that I possibly could. So, if you need my help with anything, just tell me what it is. And, I promise, I’ll do everything in my power to give it to you.” She assured you and, as much as you felt this huge sympathy for the woman, you also felt even worse about making her waste her time. So you tried to fix things.

“Oh, my God! I’m so, so, so sorry! I’m not a victim in any way, thank God. I said that I shouldn’t have come here because I’m not even sure if what I wanted to ask is legal…” You told her with a nervous laugh. Hearing that, the Sergeant’s eyes sparked with curiosity.

“Well, then I probably won’t be able to help you.” She told you, stressing the ‘probably’ and making the man at the end of the counter shamelessly turn his face in your direction in order to better hear your conversation. “But… Since you’re already here, and it’s been such a slow day for the District, maybe you should just ask me whatever you want to and I’ll be the judge of whether that’s legal or not. After all, unless you’re some sort of lawyer, I should know more about the law than the average civilian.” The Sergeant skilfully baited you.

“Um, no, I’m not a lawyer.” You confirmed with a small laugh while tugging some of your hair behind your ear. “Actually, since I’ve just recently moved here to Chicago ⎼ to Illinois, really ⎼, I’m probably a lot below your average civilian.” You stated with a giggle. At that, the guy that had lost his discretion about eavesdropping started chuckling a little himself, to which the older woman responded with a look you’d absolutely hate having directed to you.

“So, Chuckles, you have nothing better to do than to stay here listening to other people’s conversations?”

“First of all, it’s detective,” he started in a mocked smug tone, “and, second: no, uh, I actually don’t. I came to fill this paperwork down here exactly because we were about to kill each other upstairs, just to get out of the boredom.” He added, raising some paper files he had in-hand. “Besides, you know how much I, too, love to help people.” He said while shooting you a charming smile. Okay, that guy was pretty handsome. “Jay Halstead, nice to meet you.” The detective informed you, holding out his hand.

“Right, um, nice to meet you too, sir.” You replied, shaking his hand. “I didn’t even say my name, what a clums!” You joked while patting yourself on the forehead. “I’m (y/n) (y/l/n).”

“Okay, just, please, lose the ‘sir’ with that one, otherwise, he’ll never let it go.” Trudy chipped back in the conversation.

“So, what was it that you wanted to ask the sarge? I can assure you that we’ll let you know if it’s illegal. After all, two judges are better than one.” He suggested, all smiles.

“Since when?” The sergeant practically barked at the younger man, just to add: “You know what? You wanna be here at my front desk, Halstead? Then be here, but be quiet and let the lady talk.” She bluntly ordered him, who decided to do as he was told.

“Alright, um, it’s just that this guy who I don’t really know anything about asked me out and I said yes, even though I got a bad vibe from him?” They just stared at you with their jaws dropped, so you added: “Pathetic, I know. But I didn’t really wanna judge him without any proof, or anything like that, so I figured that, maybe, I could try and check if he has any criminal priors or something.” You finished with a tiny embarrassed smile.

“And why on Earth would you think that we could give you this type of information?” The sergeant asked you, her expression being one of pure shock.

“I, uh…” You didn’t really want to embarrass yourself even more but felt the urge to explain anyways. “It’s just that I’m a small-town girl, okay? And, over there, everybody knew my family, so, whenever I wanted to go out with someone, my dad would just ask his buddies at the Sheriff’s office to look the guy over. And he always told me that that was really important, so, when I moved to the state’s capital, I just wouldn’t go out with anyone unless a close friend vouched for him. Because I was terrified of what I’d see and hear on the news. But here… I don’t really know anyone yet.” You blurted it all out, to two strangers! To two cops who probably had something, or somethings, better to do than to listen to your whining. “Anyhow, I’m really sorry that I wasted your time, guys. Won’t happen again.” At that, they exchanged a look, and the sergeant said:

“You know what? You’re right, kid. The world is a dangerous place. And, unfortunately, it is even more dangerous for us women. So I’m gonna look the guy up. But I’m not gonna tell you exactly what it says if something comes up.” She told you, much for your surprise, and, then, turned to the detective, saying: “If you say a single word about this to anyone, and I mean anyone, Chuckles, I swear to God that I’ll cut your tongue out myself.”

“Geez, sarge. How can you swear such an ugly thing like that to God?” He asked her, in a mockery tone, while making a hilarious expression.

“Ha! Keep that up and your tongue won’t be the only thing I’m gonna cut.” She threatened him again and you couldn’t help but burst into laughter when he made a shocked expression and put his hands protectively over his crotch.

“For your information, I wanna help the girl just as much as you, so I wouldn’t say anything. You didn’t have to threaten me.” He tried to recover, as you handed her a small piece of paper with your possible date’s name.

“Oh, I know. But I wasn’t about to miss out on the opportunity.” She shot back at him while typing the name on the District’s computer. “Okay, here it is... Wow."

"What? What is it?" You asked her, as you watched the detective perk himself over the counter to look at the screen.

"Jesus. This guy's got himself quite a rap sheet." He commented, making you shiver, thinking of what could happen to you, if you went on with the date.

"What exactly do you mean by that, detective?" You asked the man who probably noticed your discomfort, because he spoke again, in a tranquilizing tone:

"No, relax. It's nothing too bad, like violent or anything. But there's some pretty nasty stuff here." He told you, not really making you relax.

"There's something here, though." That caught the detective's eye again. "His juvenile record is sealed, the only thing I can see without a warrant is an observation from his caseworker. She says something about him having violent tendencies." She told you with a sigh, taking her glasses off again. "Look, I know that I can't tell what to do and what to not do, (y/n), but, as a suggestion? Stay the hell away from this piece of work. You seem like a nice enough girl, I'd hate to see you come in here as a victim someday."

“Oh, God, no! I heard you loud and clear, sergeant! Don’t worry about it, I’m canceling that date ASAP!” You exclaimed, agreeing with her.

“That’s great!” The detective spoke this time, sounding a little too happy about the fact that you were about to cancel a date with a man who had criminal priors and violent tendencies. So both you and the other woman stared at him. “Err, I mean because you’re not gonna go out with him.” You just giggled a little at the way he was digging an even deeper hole for himself. “Because he’s a bad guy.” He added, once again getting a glare from Trudy. “You know what I mean.” He finished, defeated, not looking in your eyes.

“Well, uh,” you started, trying to keep yourself from laughing too hard, “anyways, I can only thank you both. You guys got me out of something that could be really unpleasant, to say the least.” You told them, a bit more serious this time.

“Nah, don’t worry about it. Just glad we could help.” Detective Halstead said, smiling kindly at you.

“Yeah. This time, I actually agree with you, Halstead.” The sergeant half-joked.

“Aw, that’s very kind, but, really, thank you!” You restated your gratitude, then asking: “I should probably get going now, right? Stop wasting your time?”

“It’s not like we were doing much before you got here-” Trudy began saying, but was interrupted by the detective, who quickly told you:

“Yeah, you should go. You know, cause a police District…” You knew he was right, but those two seemed like really nice people, especially after having helped you dodge a bullet, so to speak, and you’d hoped that you were finally making some friends in the Windy-City. “Anyways, um, lemme walk you out.” He offered you while motioning to the door. At that, you and the sergeant shared a look that told you she also found it weird that the detective would wanna walk with you through such a minimal distance.

“Uh, um, o- okay.” As you and Halstead walked towards the exit, you couldn’t help but notice what nice features he had. Like, your mind just kept going back to what a good-looking man he was.

“So…” He trailed off.

“So…” You answered, not really sure about what to say.

“You know, um, it’s gotta be a hell of a bummer for you. Being here in Chicago without knowing many people. This city… It’s all about finding your community.” He told you in a sympathetic tone.

“Hum…” You breathed out as you thought about it for a moment. “Yeah, well, I guess that I can only hope I’ll have better luck at making acquaintances the next time I go out to explore it.”

“Right.” The detective agreed. “Uh, listen, I know that this may sound a little too forward, but, maybe, I could show you some of my favorite places, someday? I mean, only if you’re interested! Because I don’t want you to feel like-”

“Actually, I’d very much like that! If it isn’t going to be any trouble for you…” You cut him off excitedly.

“No! No trouble at all!” He quickly assured you. “Um, thi- this is my card.” He said, lifting up a small business card for you to see. “I’m gonna write my personal number on the back of it. Call, or text me when you have some time to go out. Or if you just want someone to talk…” The handsome man added with a smile. God, what a smile.

“Okay, um, thanks, dete-”

“No, please! Call me Jay.”

“Alright,” you acknowledged, a little nervous this time, “then, thank you, Jay. Just, be advised, I can be very talkative sometimes, which means you might regret giving me this.” You warned him with a sly smile while waving the card in front of his face.

“Huh.” Jay pretended to consider it for a moment. “Is it too weird if I say I have a feeling that I won’t regret it?” He then asked you with a cute shy smile.

“Well, it sure isn’t weirder than me saying that I really hope you don’t regret it.” You confessed to him with a wink.

“Hey, are you two gonna take that flirting elsewhere on your own, or do you need me to get you a room?” You heard Sergeant Platt call out, blushing immediately.

“I’m so sorry about that!” Jay told you, looking a little flushed himself. “You should probably go now.” He added with an apologetic smile.

“Yeah, I think you’re right..” You agreed, but, as you were turning around to leave, he grabbed your wrist lightly, saying:

“Just… Don’t forget to call.” Hearing that, you snickered a little.

“I have a feeling that I won’t.” You told him, almost repeating his previous words, which got some chuckles out of him.

Now you understood the nickname.

[bosspigeon]

i left a little something on the table for you

Saints and Sinners isn’t the only club in Vapolis, but most of them have the same or similar protocols, to varying degrees of diligence. Still, everyone should know the game by now, no matter where they go. It’s all the same general gist: check your ID, check you for weapons, get the cover charge, then send you in to get wasted and be stupid without the threat of a disembowelment on the dance floor.

Most people don’t want the trouble. They just obey the rules and leave their weapons at home or in their car, though plenty of others do try to conceal a piece regardless, and either let the bouncers confiscate it to give back when they leave, or kick up a fuss and get thrown right back out the door. If they do manage to slip under the radar, most people have the sense to keep quiet about it.

Coyote Knox isn’t most people.

The merc’s clothes are almost always pretty shredded, and Jax knows him well enough by now to know that, while he does wear them like the damage is all intentional, most of it isn’t. It means he’s rarely fully clothed, which makes it pretty easy to pat him down and send him on his way, with several shiny new knives for the trouble.

Well, some of them are new, anyway.

Some of them still have blood on them.

This time, it wasn’t Jax at the door. It should be his night off, and while he usually has better things to do with his free time than hang around the place, Orla wanted him to pop in for a brief consult for some job coming down the line.

He goes to the bar for a quick drink before he heads out, the crowd parting around him like water the second they see who he is, flags down a bartender, and waits.

And then he hears that loud fucking mouth.

“It’s not the size that matters, babe,” Knox is saying, his voice a rough purr. He never smells like tobacco, and Jax has never seen him smoke, so he’s not sure where that rasp could come from, but it’s there regardless, like vodka and broken glass. “It’s what you do with it.”

“Uh-huh,” the bartender laughs indulgently. Jax can’t remember their name, but clearly they know Knox well enough to be comfortable with him. Speaks to their mental state, he supposes. “I still think you’re compensating for something.”

He knows he’s going to regret it, but Jax turns his head to the left, and it’s easy enough to see Orla’s rabid pet merc even through the crush of people vying for the attention of the bartenders darting about like bright dragonflies in neon and mesh.

He’s sitting on the bar with his heavy boot propped up on a vacant stool that several people are eyeing with furious envy, but none are brave enough to try for, considering the little bastard is twirling around a bowie knife like a fucking baton.

“Compensating for what, doll?” the masked merc chuckles, leaning back on his elbow. He’s practically lying across the bar, head tilted back, choppy hair hanging down as he smiles winsomely at the orange-haired bartender who twists nimbly around him to top off glasses and gather orders like they’re used to his bullshit. “I know what I’ve got and how to use it, I just feel like it never hurts to have plenty of options at my disposal.”

“Let a bouncer catch you waving that thing around, and I’m sure Orla will remove a few of your options for you.” The bartender clears some empty glasses from the bar and drops them by a nearby sink, taking a clean shaker to begin mixing cocktails.

Jax is off the clock. It’s none of his goddamned business. He drums his fingers against the sticky bartop and immediately regrets it, scowling and wiping his hand on his jeans. They’re expensive, but at least they’re dark. He can have them cleaned later.

“Oh, don’t worry about me,” Knox croons, sitting up and raking back his hair. Someone leaves their drink alone for a second, and he snatches it up and knocks half of it back in one go. Disgusting. “I know when to test my luck. I nicked the bouncer rotation from her office last time I was in. Jaxxie’s not on duty tonight, so I’m in the clear. The other muscleheads know not to fuck with me if they’d like to keep their own options intact.”

It’s a good thing Jax hasn’t gotten his drink yet, because he’s pretty sure he’d slam it down on the bar and shatter the glass.

“I’ll have to have a talk with them, then,” he snarls, loud enough to be heard over the noise, and to make the people around him clear the hell out.

The bartender yelps and nearly drops the shaker.

Knox just groans. “Speak of the devil.”

Jax pushes off the bar and stalks through the crowd, and saints and sinners alike practically throw themselves out of his path. Knox doesn’t move from his graceless sprawl across the bar, though he does sit up a bit to watch. His bright yellow eyes track the bouncer’s every move, his pierced lips kicking into a smirk.

The bartender, predictably, makes themself scarce.

“You must be stupider than you look,” Jax says, crossing his arms across his chest.

Yellow eyes flicker down to the open vee of Jax’s silk shirt, and that lazy smirk spreads wider. “Mama always told me smarts weren’t the way to catch a husband anyhow,” he drawls. He taps the tip of the blade against his temple like he’s imparted some deep wisdom and takes a pointed sip of his stolen drink.

Jax curls his lip and doesn’t deign that with a reply. “Hand over the knife, and I won’t throw you into traffic and tell Orla she’ll have to pick up a new poorly-trained housepet from the pound.”

The merc’s quick, Jax will give him that. In the blink of an eye he twists the knife away and arches off the bar, slipping it into some hidden sheath behind his back. He also manages to do so while slurping down the last of his stolen drink, and sliding the empty glass down the bar for the original owner to find. He wipes his mouth with the back of one hand, before he raises them both and wiggles his fingers so the rings on them click together. “You must be mistaken, Sir,” he simpers, fluttering his eyelashes, “I don’t have any knife. I’m an upstanding citizen, and I would never disobey the rules of this fine establishment!”

A frisson of something shoots down Jax’s spine, but he chalks it up to anger, because that’s generally what overwhelms him when he has to see this smug little fuck’s face. He can’t be that useful to Orla, the way she bitches about him.

But he’s still around being a thorn in Jax’s side, so he must be good for something.

It shouldn’t be his problem. He’s off the clock. But he knows Orla would find some way to blame him if Knox got out of hand while Jax was around to stop it. So he grabs the merc by one stout shoulder and starts carting him towards the doors.

Knox, to his credit, doesn’t struggle. What he does might be even more annoying, cackling like a madman and blowing a kiss up at Jax. “Baby, at least buy me dinner first!” he crows as they carve through the crowd, stumbling a bit to compensate for Jax’s much longer stride.

The two bouncers on duty leap out of the way when Jax shoves him through the doors, and the look he gives them both has them cringing away. They must be some of the new hires Orla mentioned. “We’re going to have a talk later,” he promises grimly.

“Oh, don’t be too hard on them, Jaxxie,” Knox coos. His mask is slipping off, and he fumbles to peel it away and toss it to the ground while being dragged along by the arm, “they don’t know any better.” He laughs again, grating and sharp, and he keeps laughing until Jax hauls him out the door and lets him go so suddenly he goes staggering into the hood of someone’s car. Thankfully, the car doesn't seem to have an alarm. Knox raps his knuckles against the dented hood and raises his eyebrows, apparently making the same observation. “Noted,” he says wickedly.

“Next time, I won’t be so gentle,” Jax snarls, the back of his neck still prickling at the nickname.

Coyote flicks his tongue out, wiggling the split prongs, the silver ball embedded in it catching the dull light of the dirty street lamp overhead. “Ooooh, do you promise?”

As far as Jax is concerned, the problem is handled. He gives the merc one last withering look, eyes narrowed and lip curled, before he stalks away to find his own car and get the hell out of dodge before he’s roped into more nonsense. Knox’s raspy cackle follows him the whole way.

He’s halfway home when a sudden, niggling suspicion tickles at the back of his mind. He waits until he’s at a red light to pat down his waist, which feels notably lighter than it should.

“Motherfucker!” he snaps when he realizes his gun isn’t there. He’s not the type to lose things, especially not important things.

Orla warned him on day one the merc had sticky fingers, and he didn’t listen, thinking nobody would be stupid enough to try him.

A part of him, though, is sort of… grudgingly impressed. How’d the crazy little bastard manage to take it? When?

Jax drags a hand over his mouth and grumbles to himself. He’d shake the truth, and his damned gun, out of the merc next time he saw him, no matter what.

A rough voice that sounds suspiciously like Knox croons in the back of his mind.

Sounds like a date.

[wristpockets]

Can I throw some prompts at you? All fluffy but with potential for Deep Emotional Talks™ if that's what you're after. Anyway: 1. Essek and jester trying to cook/ bake for the first time (two rich kids who have never been in a kitchen while food has been made) lots of potential for comedy but also ways to explore the differences and similarities in their childhoods?? 2. Caleb and Essek teaching each other dances from their homelands, (I feel like Essek probably had to learn formal dances in his youth and absolutely despised them until he realized that dancing with someone you actually like can be fun) Anyhow, happy writing!

Thanks for the suggestions! Going with the first one!

(If anyone else has any fic prompts/ideas/requests feel free to send them my way!)

This kind of got away from me 😅 Ended up a lot longer than expected. Not going to spend too much time proofreading or editing bc this was supposed to be fun. Anyway

Essek is leaning over the railing on the Nein Heroez, a glass of wine in his hand. He can hear the party going on behind him - the rest of the Nein get together every month for dinner - but he needed to get away for a moment. He watches the moonlight reflect off the waves as he swirls the wine in his glass.

He doesn't notice Jester until she's right next to him.

"What's wrong, Essek?" she asks, her voice laden with sincerity and sympathy.

He sighs, takes a long sip of his wine, and says, "I feel inadequate."

"Oh no Essek," Jester says. She moves closer, until she can bump her hip against his. "You're so powerful. And!" She lowers her voice conspiratorially, "I saw the way you floated in Cognouza. You were faster than Caleb, which I think means you're even smarter than he is."

Essek actually smiles at that. Lets out a little laugh. "You're not wrong. But I'm not concerned with my power or intelligence."

"Then how do you think you're inadequate? In what way? Is it-" Jester cuts herself off, looking over at him while wiggling her eyebrows.

"No," he says quickly, his ears heating up. "Everyone else is so..." He looks for the word and comes up blank. "Caleb and I see Beauregard and Yasha for dinner quite often. Yasha will have freshly baked bread, or even cake. Beauregard works all day, and Yasha stays home and cooks."

"I think she's happy though," Jester says.

"I think so too," Essek says quickly. "Caleb works all day too, and I stay home and do nothing." He lets out a little laugh. "I cannot believe this is my problem. Feeling bad that I cannot cook dinner while my - while Caleb is working."

Jester's eyes light up. "Okay," she says. "Okay okay. For our next get together, we're making dessert. Me and you."

Beauregard and Yasha are hosting the next meetup. Essek had collected Jester, Fjord and Kingsley early that morning, to give Jester and Essek time to make dessert.

They sent Caleb and Fjord out of the house and set to work in Caleb's kitchen.

But when Essek takes the third batch of cupcakes out of the oven - burned on the outside, somehow raw inside - he's ready to give up.

"I don't understand what I'm doing wrong," Essek says quietly. He floats there, uselessly, staring at another failed attempt at a fairly simple baked good. "Is this how you normally make them?"

"Hmm?" Jester says, looking over at him. She dips her finger into the frosting she'd been working on. "I've never made cupcakes before."

Essek turns toward her. "What? You've never-"

"Nope," Jester says, matter-of-factly. She puts the icing-covered finger in her mouth, tasting the frosting, before scrunching up her nose. "This is awful."

Essek deflates a little. "So we are currently lacking both edible cupcakes and edible icing."

Even Jester's smile falls. "I'm sorry, Essek."

"It's not your fault," Essek says. "We still have some ingredients - what do you know how to make? What could we make quickly that's simpler?"

Jester looks down at the floor. "I don't know."

"Anything," Essek pleads. "Anything you've baked successfully-"

"I've never baked anything," Jester admits quietly.

"Oh," Essek says.

"Yeah."

Jester turns so her back is to the counter, then slides down, sitting on the floor. "I know how you feel. I feel like I should know how to do this."

Essek floats over, then sits down next to her. He can't bear the look on her face. "Two powerful adventurers, brought low by mere cupcakes," he jokes.

"I wanted to do this," Jester says, still quiet. "I wanted to bake something for everyone, something delicious! Something everyone would eat and say, 'oh Jester, your baking is so delicious,' and then maybe I'm not just the girl who draws dicks on things."

"You're a lot more than that," Essek tries.

Jester nods. "I know. I just feel bad."

"I feel that way too," Essek says. "All this power and knowledge and ability - for what? What good is it doing me here, now? And I know it's not an either-or thing. Caleb cooks. Even Beauregard does sometimes. I've never so much as fried an egg."

"Neither have I," Jester admits. "When I lived at home..."

"I understand," Essek says, and he knows he does.

"It's just embarrassing," Jester says.

"Yes," Essek agrees.

They sit like that for a moment, until they hear the front door open.

"Essek? Jester?" Caleb calls from the entryway. "Am I allowed in the kitchen yet?"

"Not yet!" Jester yells. "Almost done! Fifteen minutes!"

Essek looks at her in shock, and she just shrugs her shoulders.

"I do not possess the arcane ability to create cupcakes," Essek says blankly. "And I am unsure of how else we might make a dessert in that time."

"I panicked," Jester says apologetically. "Maybe some of the cupcakes aren't so bad-"

"They are," Essek says as Jester leans over batch number two, tearing off a piece of cupcake and trying it cautiously. After a few bites she scrunches her nose, then spits it out into the garbage.

"It looked good," Jester pouts. "I can't believe cupcakes would lie to me."

Something connects and Essek can feel his eyes widen. "I have an idea."

Several hours later, Jester and Essek are ready to present their cupcakes to the rest of the Nein. At the very least, they look nice - frosting is apparently close enough to painting for Jester to have some skill at it.

"These look delicious," Caleb says, smiling up at Essek. The compliment in front of their friends makes Essek's cheeks heat up, and he's grateful his complexion doesn't let it show.

"I might need to get some pointers from you," Yasha says as she carefully peels off the cupcake wrapper. "I wish I could frost like this."

"Don't eat that!" Beau shouts, quickly leaning over to slap it out of her hand.

Everyone stops to stare at Beauregard, Yasha's mouth still open, the cupcake discarded on the floor.

"What's wrong, Beauregard?" Essek asks nervously.

"They've been tampered with," she says. She picks up Yasha's dinner plate. "These plates are enchanted. They change colour if any of the food on it is fucked with. A few crumbs fell off of it." She points to a few speckles of bright purple on the plate. "I watched the plate react to the crumbs."

"Tampered with?" Fjord asks. "Tampered how?"

"I don't fucking know, man," Beau says. "It doesn't like, tell me."

"Um," Essek says carefully. "Would a magical alteration to the dish set off that reaction?"

"I should fucking hope so," Beau says, "since that's the whole point."

"In that case," Essek says, shooting Jester a worried look, "then yes, they were tampered with. But they will not harm you."

"Essek," Caleb says, looking at him worriedly.

"It's just prestidigitation," Essek says hurriedly. "We used it to flavour the cupcakes and the frosting." He takes a bite of his own cupcake. "See? They're safe."

"But why?" Veth asks. "Surely it can't be any worse than that fish stew Fjord made us all eat last time."

Essek looks at Jester again, who looks resigned. He waves his hand, dismissing the spell. "See for yourself."

Caleb is the first one that takes Essek up on that, tearing off a piece with his fingers and tasting it. Essek can see Caleb trying very hard to keep his expression neutral. He eventually - with some difficulty - swallows the bite of cupcake. "Ja," he says, eventually. "It's not that bad." He offers Essek a warm smile.

"Well that's obviously a lie," Veth says, pushing her plate a few inches away from her.

"Sorry guys," Jester says. She's looking down at the table and looks absolutely lost. "We just wanted to make something nice."

"Have either of you ever baked anything, ever?" Veth asks, picking up a tiny piece of the cupcake and trying it. "This is awful. I love you Jessie, but who taught you to bake?"

Jester looks too crestfallen to answer. "Both of us are, ah, new to this," Essek admits instead.

"Maybe cooking lessons are in order," Fjord says. "I used to cook on the ship, back when I was getting started. I could show you a few things, Jester."

Jester nods, still looking down at the table.

"And I could teach you," Caleb says to Essek.

"That would be appreciated," Essek says.

"Okay," Jester says. She sighs, then looks up at everyone. Forces a smile. "Okay. Me and Essek are going to learn how to cook, and then we'll make something for next time."

"Maybe not cupcakes," Beau says.

"Maybe nothing for anyone who complains about my baking again," Jester retorts.

"There are some desserts from Rosohna I'd like to recreate, if possible," Essek says. "If I can find a recipe."

"That sounds nice," Caduceus says.

"I am not much for sweets, but I do like some of the ones in Rosohna," he continues. "They're, ah, made with cinnamon. I don't think they do that here in the Empire."

"They don't!" Jester almost yells, smiling. "I know! It's crazy!"