#Arcadia Gallery | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

kisskissbanggang · 2 months ago

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[7.4k Words/30min. Read - Demon!Minho x Human!Reader - NSFW/Smut - First Time Rage, Playing With Fate, Getting Prolifically Dumped, Ouija Boards, Divine Intervention, Sorting Out Our Feelings, Violence and Threats of Violence, Death of a Side Character (Sort Of), Claws, Angels, Demons, Impulsive Sex, Surprising Use of Kim Seungmin]

[a/n: happy halloween! because two different users requested the same thing for my Trick or Freak event, here's a surprise full fic. 🧡]

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You were mad as hell.

A feeling that was, at its inception, so foreign to you and now was fully realized. The sensation had taken a few minutes to settle, not unlike gaining sea legs. It began so small–a fragile, imperceptible thing–before it whipped up into a frenzy. This was nature taking its course. You were a thunder cloud on the verge of cracking lightning.

The note had been sitting on the entry table; Seungmin didn't have the gall to leave it at your bedside. No. You had roused late in the morning, serene and loved. Seungmin couldn't give you the peace of leaving the scrawled note in the loft of the cabin, and instead left it on the table where he’d first put his keys a couple days previously.

I don’t expect you to understand, sweetheart, the note read, because I hardly understand it myself. All I know is I can't do this anymore. I hope you can forgive me.

You stood by the entry table at eleven in the morning, having previously been thoroughly adored just the night before, and currently buzzing with electric anger as you allowed yourself to enter this emotion you'd heretofore never let yourself fully experience… This was rage.

There was more written on the stupid piece of paper: he could arrange a ride for you after the party; he was going to that wretched party after all; he was sorry.

Maybe there was another woman, you mused. Maybe you were the other woman. Why else would he ditch you to go to the bullshit party when he’d sworn up and down that he wouldn’t dare? Maybe this was all an illusion. There was a chance that you had been too trusting, too hopeful. Truthfully, honestly, and begrudgingly, you knew that this was a clear possibility from the beginning. Seungmin first saw your art only a month ago. He placed you in your first gallery two weeks later. The godawful Halloween party tonight was supposed to help you meet a possible buyer, a local gallery owner, but Seungmin himself advised you that this wasn’t the right event to meet a potential patron. Unless that wasn’t really the reason.

You were still fuming. This was a helpless, raw feeling that you weren’t used to. You let the note fall to the floor, drifting like the fall leaves outside. The first order of business was to find your phone. Two days ago, you were cooing and poring over every inch of the cozy cabin as Seungmin serenely looked on, but now it was a suffocating prison cell. None of Seungmin’s belongings were left–he’d been able to fully clear out before you ever woke up, and took off in his stupid truck. That jerk, it was like he had never even been here, having vanished like some sort of phantom. Finally, you found your phone, having fallen off of the bedside table and into your open weekend bag on the floor. You took one look at the screen and hucked the piece of electronic garbage onto the bed. Just like you found two days ago, there was no cell service. Seungmin deserted you out here. Yes, Arcadia Shores was 15 minutes away–by car. That same trek by foot was easily an hour at least along the rural highway, up and down steep, forested inclines and navigating hairpin turns that vehicles took much too quickly. You were, for practicality’s sake, actually stuck out here.

This was miserable.

You forced yourself to get showered and dressed, still steaming with no release in sight. Following that, you packed up all your things and dumped your bag by the front door. It was one thing for Seungmin to abandon you out here with no practical way back into town, let alone back to your lonely little apartment, but it was another thing entirely for him to make you wait until after the fucking party for a goddamn ride. That was the part that was doing your head in.

You were almost a little put off by how angry you were. This sort of felt like you’d been holding back for a long, long time, but that also meant that being this mad was sort of cathartic, maybe a little comforting. It was how alien the sensation was that made it difficult to contend with. Sitting down with a huff on the rickety, old couch in the cabin, you were taken aback by the first moment of true silence you were confronted with since you found the note earlier that day. You were suddenly struck by a feeling of unease, of restlessness. There might have been a possibility of going for a little walk around the property, maybe down to the creek behind the cabin, but that felt particularly helpless with the thickening gray clouds looming outside.

Sure, there were things you could do. Your small journal was stowed in your weekend bag. You could write your feelings out, be the bigger, calmer person. A notepad sat on the counter in the tiny kitchen, likely the same notepad that Seungmin wrote to you on. Maybe you could write your own letter, maybe pretend to say everything you wished you could in that moment.

How humiliating, though, being forced to process this all on your own after being miserably humiliated by the first man you ever let yourself sleep with within the first day of meeting him.

He said he loved you within one week. He encouraged you to say it back. He’d had the nerve to sound nervous about how quick this was all moving, and you’d been foolish enough to think it was sweet.

No, you decided. Just because Seungmin forced you to deal with this on your own didn’t mean that you had to deal with it calmly, but no readily apparent reaction felt appropriate. The bookshelf across from you in the small living area was filled to the brim with all sorts of things–board games, atlases and almanacs, chapter books and miscellaneous compilations of classics… and something else.

Your eyes passed over it a few times before you truly noticed it, and once you did, you kept returning to it.

Wedged at the bottom of a dusty pile of old board games and puzzles, haphazardly stacked on top of the bookshelf was a ouija board.

You smirked when you properly let yourself notice it for the first time. In recollection, you’d never used a spirit board before, nor ever even had the chance to. These were always comically off limits. This was a toy that was supposedly evil, supposedly fraught with negative consequences.

This was something good kids didn’t do.

It was this singular thought, paired with your unprecedented anger that ultimately drew you nearer. Every nagging, fearful thought that ever stopped you from acting out replayed in your head while you got up from the couch. A floorboard squeaked concerningly underfoot as you crossed the modest living area, almost like the old floor could crack open and suck you under. Ignoring that, you pulled over a chair from the old kitchen table. The chair groaned when you climbed on top of it, wobbling in a way that made you hurry your actions. A book fell out of the shelf, practically flying off and onto the ground, and you peeked downwards to see what it had been. Hilariously, a Bible looked up at you, almost accusingly. The absurdity of this made you nearly laugh out loud. You settled on pulling the whole stack of games and puzzles on top of the ouija board down entirely, gingerly tip-toeing off your makeshift step stool before setting the whole heap on the floor beside the coffee table.

You’d never done this before, but it seemed easy enough. In the aged cardboard box, there was a handsome wooden board with letters and words painted on. A heavy planchette sat on top, just big enough to fit perfectly in your palm. You cleared off the coffee table and knelt in front of it, before you suddenly realized that you felt nervous. This was fitting, probably, considering this was apparently a day full of firsts for you.

In the center of the heart-shaped piece of wood in your hand was a small, round lens made of glass. The surface was covered in dust, an interesting discovery given that the item had been sitting in a box, unexposed to the surrounding air. You pulled your sleeve over your palm to clean it off and placed the planchette on the board. At this point, you wondered how this was supposed to start. Were you supposed to greet the supposed spirits by starting at the “hello” painted in the corner, or was that for the spirit to theoretically signal its arrival?

Not that any of this was real, obviously. This was simply to pass the time. Maybe you’d make yourself some tea and try journaling after this. Outside, the impending rain finally began to come down.

You ultimately decided to place the planchette on a blank space on the board. Your fingertips lightly laid on the pointer’s edge, like you’d seen in movies. This felt ridiculous, which led to an acceptable first question.

“So,” you stiffly began, “this is bullshit, right?”

You almost laughed, the inquiry was so dumb. It was hardly even a joke. You waited a mortifying 30 seconds, feeling incredibly self-conscious, when you decided this whole endeavor was stupid and it was time to put the game back where you found it.

However.

When you went to retrieve the flimsy, old box from where you laid it beside you on the floor, you did a double-take and the box fell from your hands.

The planchette wasn’t where you left it.

It was sitting on top of “yes.”

Well, you were a sucker for a good sense of humor. And if this was a delusion like you were certain it was, your friends were going to get a kick out of it when you told them about that time you got callously dumped and stranded and started talking to spirits.

“Am I going crazy?” you half-heartedly asked the board. Much to your amusement and horror, the planchette moved on its own, sliding across the board until it sat on top of the “no.” You sat up on your knees, more attentive now.

“Does Seungmin love me?” you asked. What a pathetic question. You stared at the board, waiting. The wooden pointer slid off the “no” but it also didn’t slide all the way to “yes.” The planchette stopped firmly in the middle. “Fair enough,” you replied under your breath. Still, this was nowhere near cathartic enough for you. There were some regrettable desires sitting in your gut.

“Does Seungmin feel sorry for what he did to me?” you staunchly asked.

“No,” the board answered. You wrinkled your nose and grimaced, like you were suckerpunched. How embarrassing. That rage inside you ran like a bolt up your spine.

“... How do I make Seungmin feel sorry?”

The planchette moved down to the letters below. “A-S-K-M-E.”

“Ask you? Ask you what?”

“T-O-H-E-L-P.”

You gazed down at the board. This was all suddenly feeling far more serious than you’d originally set out with the intention of.

But what could it hurt?

This was quickly becoming reckless.

You took a deep, shaky breath before you realized you were trembling. “How do I ask you?”

“N-A-M-E.”

“My name or your name?”

“M-I-N-E.”

Your ribs ached on your rapidly beating heart. “What is your name?”

“T-O-O-L-O-N-G.”

“Too long?” you sputtered. “Are you kidding me? This was your idea. What can I call you instead?”

The planchette wavered for a minute before ultimately drifting, through the painted letters on the board until it landed on one.

M? Just an initial? That seemed dumb, but it was what was being suggested. You took another steadying breath, but it wasn’t helping. There wasn’t a hint of confidence in your voice, instead betraying the full bundle of nerves in your throat. “Help me, M.”

The ensuing silence made you feel like an idiot.

None of this was real. This was all a surreal fever dream, and you were going to beat the snot out of Seungmin the next time you saw him because of it.

Or not, because you were a coward. The only reason he did this to you, surely, was because he knew you wouldn’t do anything about it. You felt sick, and that wasn’t even mentioning how you felt like your face was warm, like you were blushing.

Except then there was a knock at the door. You gawked across the room, unsure if it even happened at all, until another knock came. On shaky legs, you got up on your feet and opened the door, just a crack. On the other side, damp from the rain, was a man dripping on the porch. He was young, maybe your or Seungmin’s age, with umber waves, somewhat flattened by the growing storm. There was a surprising softness in his intense gaze, his brows furrowed to keep his dark eyes dry. He grinned apologetically, a gentle, handsome expression.

“I’m so sorry to intrude,” he pleasantly began, “but can I borrow your phone? My truck broke down out on the highway and my phone is dead.”

The highway? While you weren’t too far from the road, there was a fork that ultimately led down here to the cabin. Still, you folded. As usual.

“I’m also sorry,” you winced. “I only have my cell phone, and there’s no signal out here… but you can come in, if you need. You can charge your phone while you wait for the rain to stop. I can make us some tea if you want.”

“Thanks,” the man replied, his grin spreading into an appreciative smile. He crossed the threshold and came in, shucking off his wet work coat and exposing a casual henley underneath. “Sorry for barging in. I know I already said that, but I know it’s spooky letting in strangers, especially on Halloween.”

“It’s a good thing I don’t think I’m worth the trouble,” you reassured him. You strolled into the kitchen and filled the kettle. “What’s your name, by the way?”

“You can call me Minho,” the stranger answered absently, still taking in his surroundings. “Neat cabin. You just renting, or do you know the owners? Mind if I look around?”

“Uh,” you attempted to answer, but Minho was already out of sight, peeking upstairs in the loft. The small stove bringing the kettle up to temperature creaked and moaned, mirroring your unease. Minho trotted downstairs and continued his tour, checking out the bathroom and deck. He made a few rounds of each room before he ultimately returned to the kitchen.

He looked perturbed.

“Alright,” Minho grumbled, almost out of breath. “This is a set-up, right? You’re fucking with me?”

You starkly leaned back against the kitchen counter, your hand resting on the handle of a drawer you hoped contained the knives and other cooking utensils. “I… I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Minho reeled. “Sure!” he sarcastically retorted. “You don’t know what I’m talking about. I get ripped out of my realm and plopped into yours, and the summoner isn’t even here!”

“The summoner?” you asked. “But I…”

“Sure,” Minho repeated. “You’re the summoner. I get here and it reeks of angels. The handprints of the Powers that be are fucking everywhere. You’re either the summoner or you’re one of the risen, or you’re fucking with me. Or–and there’s a big possibility of this–there’s a combination of the three happening here.”

The expression on your face must’ve been what convinced him of your honesty. Minho almost went pale, his eyebrows softening into concerned confusion and his hands dropping to his sides. “Holy shit,” he realized, “you’re not just the summoner… you're slated.”

“I’m what?” you scoffed. Your hand was still clutched around the handle of the knife drawer. Minho stalked closer, and you thankfully reacted. You yanked the drawer open and were relieved that you guessed right, wrapping your hand around the handle of a large kitchen knife. However, this wasn’t swift enough for the stranger. Minho clutched your wrist, easily taking the knife from you.

“I’m right. You can’t see it, but I can.” With this, Minho held the knife by its tip, as if he could show you whatever he was looking at on the handle. “It’s not as prominent yet, but it will be once you pass or accept the bypass. Not all the handprints in this cabin belong to you, but enough of them sure as hell do.”

“I’m sorry,” you flustered, “but what the fuck are you saying?”

Minho raised an eyebrow at you. At this distance, you could smell him. He had a masculine scent, but somewhat sweet, maybe a little cloying. Your heart was beating fast again. “What I’m saying is I can’t help you, angel, nor would I want to. I’m surprised you even managed to get me here.”

With that, he leaned away, letting the knife drop onto the hardwood, piercing it and making you jump in reaction. You stumbled after him as he walked to the coat rack.

“So you won’t help me?! And this,” you babbled, “all of this, this means you’re a spirit? You’re the spirit I summoned?”

The man sighed impatiently. “Yes, angel, you summoned me. And, given the nature of our exchange, I assumed you would’ve deduced I’m a demon by now.”

A charged pause shut you up for a second. The young demon seemed amused.

“What? You’re staring.”

“I, uh,” you stumbled on your words, “I was expecting more, like…”

“Horns?” he sneered. “A cute, pointy tail?”

You cringed compulsively in response. He was right. You had been picturing a mischievous little imp, not a… Well, not a hot guy, if you were being frank with yourself.

“Look, angel–”

“Stop calling me that.”

“Why? It’s true. You’re slated, you’re already on the path.”

You crossed your arms stubbornly. “It feels like an omen or a curse or something.”

“It’s none of those things. It’s only–as of this moment–your destiny.”

“But if you can already see these handprints, if I actually smell like an angel–don’t think I didn’t catch that, I still have questions about that–does that mean I’m going to die soon?”

Minho sighed again, sounding more like a groan this time, and firmly put his coat back on the rack. “I don’t know, angel. I’m not your Arbiter or anything. You’re probably about to be offered a bypass to ascend, like I said a minute ago.”

Your head was swimming. “What does that even mean? I just skip the dying part and become a fucking angel? That sounds insane.”

“Insane or not, it’s true,” Minho shrugged. “Hence all the reasons that I’m not going to help you. Can I put my jacket on and leave now?”

“Wait wait wait!” you cried, rushing over and putting your hand on his arm. His eyebrows shot up, looking from his arm to you. He was weirdly warm, but you did your best to ignore it. “Wait,” you pleaded again, “don’t you have some contract to stay? I’ve never been this angry in my entire life. All I want to do is make Seungmin sorry. You told me how to ask for your help and I asked.”

Minho looked at your hand on his arm again and back at you, conflicted as he frowned and shifted his weight from foot to foot. “No way,” he decided. “Sorry, angel. This is too much. I can tell you've never done a bad thing before in your life. Stay on your path and ascend, okay?”

With that, Minho peeled your hand off of him and finally pulled his jacket back on before breezing out the door.

What a bizarre fifteen minutes that all was.

The worst part was now you were somehow even madder. You grabbed your own jacket and shoes before heading out the door yourself. Obviously, Minho was already nowhere to be seen, but that didn't matter anymore. If some dumb demon wouldn't even help you, you’d go after Seungmin yourself. You trekked all the way back up to the fork up the road and out to the highway. Once you were out there, you stuck out your thumb for a ride and just started walking.

Being left alone with your thoughts like this was dangerous. However, you didn’t let yourself stop long enough to come to your senses. It was almost exhilarating to not only be this angry for once in your life, but to be justified in doing so. Like, you weren’t just going to make Seungmin feel sorry for what he did to you, but you’d be right.

Even if you still didn’t know what you would do when you saw him.

You were twenty minutes into your march to Arcadia Shores when someone finally took mercy on you and gave you a lift, but it was already beginning to turn dark. A doddering old man, probably a local, looked sick over the fact that you were out on the side of the road. He asked what on Earth could possibly make you do such a thing in this rain, and on Halloween, no less. When you replied that it was because of a man, you were convinced he was on the verge of offering to help you regardless of whatever it was you were planning on doing. You told him to simply drop you off at Arcadia Lodge, the venue for the ridiculous party. He took this mission with stoic pride, and wished you luck when he dropped you off.

Sprawling in front of you was a gracefully aging seaside resort, a huge property with its own beach and hemmed in by the woods on either side. The Halloween party was set to take place in the lodge's grand hall at its center. You warily approached the hotel, guests milling about in various degrees of costume. It was easy to feel out of place, not just because you weren't dressed for the occasion, but because you weren't even really belonging to this crowd. Arcadia Shores was pleasant enough to visit, but being a local required a certain level of financial comfort that you weren't privy to. Even as this occasion seemed to be more attended by younger family members, none of these people felt like anyone you would meet organically. That was what you needed Seungmin for. In these throngs of people, the gallery owner you were supposed to be introduced to was supposedly among them, but you’d never know it since your stupid ex wasn’t here.

The party was in full swing as the sun continued to sink under the horizon. It felt like it was going to be impossible to find Seungmin in here, and for a sickening moment, you almost doubted yourself for coming all the way out here. Then again, it was that overwhelming sense of being right that kept you steadfast in your objective.

It was at that moment, as if it were a reward for remembering why you had to see this through, you caught sight of Seungmin. Your heart plummeted into the pit of your stomach. He was gorgeous as ever and–appropriately–dressed like a devil, looking more like what you'd originally guessed Minho would appear as. In the sea of partygoers, he stood out perfectly. You kept careful watch of him, hanging back and seeing if you could figure out whether or not he was here with anyone.

Or, at least, this was your plan until a hand clapped down on your shoulder. You spun, startled, to find Minho looking annoyed.

“What?” you asked pointedly, matching his energy.

“Look,” he sighed, “I'm surprised you made it out here, okay? You proved you could do it without me.”

“Too bad that's not my point,” you shrugged.

“What is your point?” he groaned.

You pointed across the grand hall to where Seungmin was socializing. “You already know, asshole! I want to make him feel sorry for what he did to me!”

Minho’s eyebrows raised curiously, and yours did, too. You’d never called anyone an asshole before. Minho was looking past you, however, and you almost wondered why until you turned to see for yourself. As it turned out, Seungmin finally noticed you were here, but when you turned back to shoo Minho away, the demon was already gone.

Asshole, you silently repeated. You turned back around, and this was when your confidence crumbled. Seungmin was also gone. You frantically scanned the room, and caught sight of him exiting out the back of the grand hall. Costumed partygoers grumbled at you as you shoved past, running after him. The setting sun was working against you, but thankfully the various lamps and lanterns around the resort grounds helped you keep track of Seungmin as you rushed along behind him. You followed him out, beyond the proper resort property, and out to the scenic path up the hill to Arcadia Lighthouse. If he knew you were in pursuit, he showed no sign of it, never looking back over his shoulder as you both followed the path along the bluffs over the crashing waves below.

Your thoughts were racing again. What would you say when you finally caught up to him? What would you do?

Seungmin stopped suddenly in his tracks, causing you to do the same. Your breath caught in your throat.

Your ex turned then, looking conflicted. “You weren’t supposed to come here!” he called out.

Words attempted to materialize in your mouth, and you choked on every one. Here was your moment, and you were fucking it up. You took a helpless step forward. All you could imagine was pushing that son of a bitch for what he did to you. Seungmin took a step back.

Right

over

the

bluff.

A gasp shot into your throat, ripped from your lungs as you sprinted over. You dropped to your knees and scrambled to look over the edge. Down below, Seungmin lay in a heap on the rocks.

The miasma of thoughts that had been falling in an endless avalanche through your head all day tripled, hitting a fever pitch that made you feel sick, before everything went silent. The words finally came.

“You asshole!” you screamed, so harshly that your eyes scrunched closed. “This was my moment, you jerk!”

Only the raucous waves replied, but soon, a tangible voice did as well.

“I’m sorry, but what the actual hell?”

The voice over your shoulder made you feel violently ill. You were going mad but, surely, this was all rational. Seungmin was down there, not up here and you were simply hallucinating. You opened your eyes, and you were immediately nauseous. Seungmin was not down on the rocks below the bluff.

With shaking eyes, you could hardly look over your shoulder. It had to be done, though. Your chin wavered as you looked behind you.

Seungmin.

“Are you kidding me?” he huffed, putting his hands on his hips. There wasn’t a scratch on him. Did you only imagine him falling?

“Seungmin…” you finally uttered. “What are you talking about?”

He threw his hands up condescendingly. “All of this just to be mad?! You’re not here to forgive me?!”

You pressed your hands into the dirt, damp from the sporadic rain, to get up to your feet. “I… Why the fuck would I forgive you?”

“Because you’ve forgiven everything else that’s ever happened to you!” he ranted. “This was such a sure fucking thing! And sure, there was some trepidation there at the end, but I was convinced you’d come to your senses when it looked like I fucking died of all things but no! I can’t believe I wasted all this time slating you.”

He growled the last part, and you almost didn’t hear it. You were too busy watching Seungmin materialize a goddamn sword, one almost as long as you were tall. The rain picked up again, making the gravel underfoot muddy and slick when you nervously backed up. When Seungmin impossibly held the imposing sword aloft, you saw it–the ghost of his halo–just a hint, but stunningly obvious once you understood it.

Minho was right. There were angel handprints all over the cabin.

They were Seungmin’s.

“Seungmin,” you nearly whimpered, “what happens when someone you slated doesn’t make the cut?”

The sword glinted despite there being no sun rays in sight. “I’ll give you one guess, sweetheart.”

You strayed from the path, instead running straight into the woods to try and lose him. Brambles and branches tried to catch you and trap you, and you tore past, your heaving breath blaring in your ears. Trees creaked and groaned behind you where Seungmin was following, until you tripped over a jagged rock lodged in the ridgid earth and landed in a clearing. A white light seemed to part the foliage behind you, and you scrambled back on your hands and kicking feet while you couldn’t help but stare in awe.

“I’m sorry it had to end this way,” Seungmin sighed, somehow clear as day.

“Me, too,” quipped a voice from behind you. You shot a crazed, unbelieving glance behind you.

“Minho?!” you exclaimed.

Sure enough, your reluctant demon stood behind you on the other side of the clearing. His coat was soaked through, and at the end of his sleeves, you could see his fingertips had extended into blackened claws. In his hand, in contrast to Seungmin’s sword, was a flail.

“What did I tell you,” he grumbled rhetorically, “you were slated. And not just by anyone, but by the Powers that be.”

“What the fuck does that mean?!” you asked both men, fully exasperated. Seungmin looked over your new companion, apparently taking this all in.

“It means you need to fucking move, angel,” Minho sighed.

“I agree, sweetheart,” Seungmin frowned, lifting the sword again.

You scrambled away through the sodden grass right as Minho charged forward, deflecting Seungmin’s attack with a swing of his flail. Watching the two was a sight, arguing even while sparring with such formidable weapons.

“You don’t have any stake in this, accursed!” Seungmin hissed, yanking his sword free of the chain of Minho’s flail.

“Sure I do!” Minho scoffed, “I was summoned, wasn’t I?”

“You’re a common whore,” seethed your ex, drawing the sword up over his head for another swing. “A slave to any master who calls you.”

“How is that any different than your enslavement, you little prick?” rebuked Minho, practically giggling. “Our Father who art in Heaven is going to be pissed at you for losing this one.”

Another gasp pierced you when Minho failed to fully block this next attack. He fumbled back, landing against the thick trunk of an ancient oak tree. Seungmin smirked, a truly wicked expression that made your stomach twist in knots, and swung the huge sword back to get more momentum for a killing blow…

Except Minho had other plans. From under his jacket, he produced–of all things–a revolver. It was still intimidating, hefty with a long muzzle, and Minho pressed the snout to his adversary’s chest. Seungmin hardly had a chance to react before you all heard the hammer click into place.

You held your breath. Only the rain had any commentary to provide for a moment.

“Have her,” Seungmin spat. “She’s flawed, anyway.”

“That’s fine,” Minho retorted with a shrug.

Seungmin’s glare narrowed, but instead of swinging for Minho, he turned his attention back to you. You feebly tried to retreat again, but not before a harrowing shot rang out through the deepening night amongst the trees. Your eyes snapped shut in terror, and remained so. This was far too much. Your head swam, until a warm hand gently grabbed your shoulder. When you opened your eyes, it was only you and Minho in the clearing. Even the rain had vanished. Seungmin was nowhere to be seen; rather, only golden specks of dust drifted in the air.

“What now?” Minho softly asked you.

Your gaze could hardly relax despite your eyes feeling exhausted. “The cabin,” you uttered. “I left all my stuff. Take me there.”

Minho soothed a hand across your shoulders, rubbing your back. Serenely, the forest by the ocean bluffs melted away and left you in the familiar setting of the cabin. Your tea from earlier sat cold on the kitchen counter. The demon didn’t appear to be in a rush. He simply eased down to sit on the couch, observing as you got your bearings. There were still smudged flecks of gold dust all over him.

Your feet didn’t feel attached to your ankles. It was as though you’d been walking for days, the way your whole body sagged under the weight of the evening. This was so much to take in. Seungmin never loved you, more than likely. Infatuated with you, yes, but his ulterior motives stung more than him trying to dispose of you so savagely. You felt foolish. Embarrassment tugged at your throat. You’d all but scribbled his name down in the margins of notebooks, surrounded by little hearts. It had been so fast. It had almost felt innocent, the way you fell so wholly, so quickly.

Maybe you fell for him because of the whole angel thing.

Maybe it wasn’t even your idea from the start.

The thought made your bones feel like they were made of ice.

You finally moved from your spot in the center of the cabin’s living room, back to the kitchen. The Bible from earlier that day nearly tripped you from where it still lay on the floor. You stared at it, realizing that something had tried to stop you from summoning Minho. It may not have been Seungmin, but maybe you really weren’t supposed to stray from your path. You frowned and continued towards your objective in the kitchen. The mug was neutral in your hands–not cold, but only room temperature. You tipped the contents into the sink and watched the wasted tea seep down the drain.

When the moment had arrived, back on the bluff, all you wanted to do was push Seungmin.

And he fell.

For a confusing second, you wondered if you would cry about any of this, before you realized you already were.

You hardly got a moment to let it sink in, though, because Minho was there. He looked almost impatient as he pulled you into a comforting embrace. You clutched onto his damp jacket.

“Were you supposed to let me die?” you asked into his chest.

“It doesn’t matter, angel,” he answered. “That prick was out of his mind.”

“He loved me,” you weakly insisted.

Minho stroked your hair. “Only conditionally. They all do.”

“What do I do now that I’m not slated anymore?”

“What were you doing before? Do whatever you want.”

You were both silent for a while, holding each other in the kitchen. A weighted pull kept you clinging to him, likely similar to how he continued petting your hair. He reluctantly stopped after a time. “I should go,” he murmured. When he pulled away from you, he seemed surprised to see you searching him with your eyes.

“Don’t,” you pleaded, shaking your head. “I’ll just summon you back.”

The way Minho kissed you in that moment made you blush, flooding you with heat. He cupped your face, his claws gently pressing into your skin while he held you to him. The progression of what came next was so graceful yet so charged. Minho kissed you, all the way up the stairs and into the loft, but he gasped when you pushed him away. He clutched the railing opposite the bed, chest rising and falling as he watched you. You warily opened his jacket, watching him for the most minute reactions as you peeled the article of clothing off of him. He had on a holster underneath, carrying the intimidating revolver from back in the clearing. A breath seemed to catch in Minho’s throat when you slipped the gun out and held it in your hands, inspecting it.

“Careful, angel,” he gently cautioned you..

“What would’ve happened differently if you decided to help me from the beginning?” you asked, before tossing the gun onto the old quilt covering the bed.

“Knowing you were slated?” Minho asked. His hands needily grasped your hips in wanting. “I would’ve demanded devotion. Non-negotiable.”

“Devotion?” you echoed, easily as you let him herd you onto the bed with another kiss. “Of your master?”

“Of me,” he huskily clarified. “As long as I’m out here, and you called me, you’re my master. I only want the same devotion I’m giving you.”

Minho’s groan more resembled a growl the first time you kissed his neck. “You’re devoted to me?” you implored.

“Seeing what you did with your slating, angel, I’m devoted to you in more ways than one.”

A hunger erupted in you that you’d never experienced before. It was like you’d never eaten a proper meal and were suddenly faced with a feast. Your faithful demon grunted when you tugged at his henley, pulling the shirt up over his head and dropping it off the side of the bed. He didn’t rush you, choosing instead to simply watch as you moved to match him, removing your jacket and shirt underneath.

“If I was slated,” you wondered aloud, “and I was going to be offered a bypass to ascend… Is there an equivalent in your realm?”

Minho’s gaze shook in a way that told you that you’d just unleashed a dangerous possibility. That same hunger you felt, he felt it, too, and it was liable to consume you both if you kept indulging it. “Careful, angel,” he repeated.

“Maybe I’m still slated,” you slyly grinned, pulling Minho on top of you in the bed you’d previously shared with Seungmin only the night before.

“You don’t know what you’re asking for,” Minho half-heartedly argued, all while you pulled at his belt, and your starving teeth and tongue coaxed moans from his throat. When you threaded your fingers into his hair, he keened, wincing despite his blissful expression. His hands hardly tried to pry yours off of him.

“I’m asking for your devotion,” you rebutted.

His hands stopped trying to halt your actions. “Well then,” he breathed, “that’s all you had to say.” Minho’s hands smoothed up your thighs and easily removed your jeans. The tips of his clawed digits ghosted over your bared skin.

“Would we still be doing this if you had helped me from the beginning?” you asked.

Minho took his time answering you, instead opting to get a taste of you between your legs. You were impressed to feel him retract his claws before his fingers caressed into your depths. The inhuman warmth that radiated off of him seeped into your core, making you dizzy. You weren’t the only one, either, apparent from how Minho practically came up for air to check on you.

“There was no chance I was ever going to help you, so no,” he admitted. “The second I felt the energy in here, the energy coming off of you? I wanted no part of it.”

“And now?” you probed him.

Minho seemingly stopped himself from answering right away. He paused, absently kissing the inside of your thigh while chewing on a thought. “If you’re asking for a bypass,” he said carefully, “I want to know why.”

Your heart quickened in your chest. “I never felt this free before. You were right earlier. I’d never done anything bad before in my life.”

“This isn’t just about being bad, angel,” Minho said, wrinkling his nose at you.

“I know that,” you argued. “But the only reason I’d never done a bad thing was that I was terrified of judgment. I didn’t want to disappoint anyone. I wanted to be perfect.”

Minho shook his head in disbelief. “You’re already perfect enough.”

“That’s why I want it,” you insisted. “I never felt at peace like this before. I want more, whatever that means in your realm.”

“I understand that,” Minho answered stoically. “But I can’t simply offer you a bypass. Your ex–Seungmin, he used as his name? He could do that because he’s a Power. Well, he was.”

“Are you going to be in trouble?” you worried.

“No, angel,” he reassured you. “Not when the Arbiters see how reckless he was being. He’ll be recalled and reincorporated. As for letting you join me like he was going to offer you… I might be able to do something similar.”

“So devoted,” you affectionately teased.

Minho pulled at your hip, sliding you underneath him as he crawled up between your legs and absorbing your quip in stride. “How can I not be? I said no to you because I refused to be the one who influenced your path. That being said, if you’re choosing this, I’d do anything I can to make you happy.”

“Why me?” you marveled. The quilt pulled and stretched under you as you clutched at it, the way Minho teased himself up against your wetness driving you mad with desire.

“The blessed one wanted you because of all the potential inside you. I can feel it, even right now. You’re potent. The Powers saw you as a divine being, but they only connected the dots between your spotless record and all that energy.”

“So you just want me to yourself?”

“Not at all,” Minho shook his head. “I watched you deny your slating and stray from the path to go your own way. You went after what you wanted despite me refusing to assist you. Angel, you pushed Seungmin without laying a hand on him. You just wanted it bad enough. There’s something powerful in you, sure, but I'm in awe of you. It’s rare to meet humans like you.”

You met Minho’s gaze and he held it, unrelenting as his effusive warmth rocked into you. His moans made you ache between your legs, the way his lovemaking was so methodical yet so raw making your head spin. The difference between him and Seungmin was stark, a thought you never predicted you’d have, but it was glaringly obvious. Whereas Seungmin lauded how reserved you were, how modest and shy you seemed to be, Minho actively encouraged each sigh, each cursing gasp that escaped you. You didn’t feel stifled into trying to be quiet and pretty as Minho ravaged you. Instead, the corporeal spirit on top of you shivered and shuddered as he explored you and experienced you, adoring and savoring the tryst as a whole.

“What’re you going to offer me, Minho?” you finally asked him, your voice almost hoarse from the impassioned overuse of it.

“Let me be with you, angel,” he pleaded, burying his lips in the crook of your neck as he angled his hips into your sweet spot. “I’ll show you everything that I can without taking you to my world, and when we’re ready… I’ll make that journey with you.”

“Do it,” you impulsively demanded. “What do you need from me?”

“Nothing,” Minho assured you. He jolted and groaned when you thrashed against him, his perfect member drilling into your core just right. “Nothing but you. Just let me have you, angel.”

“Take me,” you whimpered. “I’m gonna–oh, fuck, Minho, it’s too much, I can’t–”

“You can,” your lover urged you. “I got you, angel, just let it happen.”

You clutched wildly onto each other, Minho’s sharp fingertips raking into your waist where he held you as he brought you to your peak. The precipice approached quickly, almost violently, and wracked you to your bones. You never recalled practically feeling an orgasm in your neck before. Minho wasn’t far behind, seemingly biting down into your shoulder for support more than possessiveness when he arrived at his point of no return. He cried out, bucking into you as he spent himself deep inside you, that warmth almost feeling more like boiling in the feverish rush.

Minho eased down onto the bed as gently as he could without collapsing on you, trying to catch his breath. “Unbelievable,” he marveled.

“What’s that?”

“I’d always been warned that humans are too fragile to mate with,” he explained. “I’m beginning to think this was all part of some grand plan. Maybe this was meant to happen.”

“You mean I’m slated,” you giggled. Minho nodded in a daze. The quiet surrounding you felt ominous, but the air in the cabin was charged. You felt electric. “What now?” you asked.

Minho wrapped his arms around your waist and laid his head on your chest. “Whatever you want, angel,” he vowed. “You already have my devotion.”

#supernovanetwork #straykidsland #neverendingdreams #stray kids smut #lee minho smut #bel's trick or freak

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celestiaras · 4 months ago

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MY BOYSSSS

Just wanted to share some of my favorite Nijisanji gifs with you all to brighten up your day <3 I love these men so much kjkafwnwjHBWKBAWJ

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dalekofchaos · 1 year ago

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Dark!Max Caulfield au

So after looking at a piece of fanart by tovanori

I was inspired to write this post on what a dark version of Max Caulfield would look like My dark Chloe au post

So saving William is the decision on what makes Alternate Max a member of the Vortex Club. What could make Max Caulfield dark? I've come up with multiple ideas

This Max in all three different timelines would wear red and black. Red and black three piece suits or Black hoodie and Red Coyote shirt to symbolize how different this Max would be.“The coyote is a complex dream symbol. … The appearance of a coyote in a dream may symbolize a lack of ambition or a weakness of some kind. It may also indicate that you are attacking those around you who are weaker and can't defend themselves as well. Coyotes represent “tricky” and unexpected elements in life.“ “A Navajo saying holds that if Coyote crosses your path, turn back and do not continue your journey. The coyote is an omen of an unfortunate event or thing in your path or in the near future.“

This is a Max Caulfield who never meets Chloe Price, without Chloe in her life, Max turns cold and more introverted. Only having a morbid sense of photography and her sense of style catches Jefferson's eye. He helps her perfect her craft and lets her in on the dark room. And after taking this apprenticeship, Max's ability to rewind awakens and she uses it to help Jefferson perfect their art. Max lures them under the guise of friendship and a smile, but that smile is bait. Max, Jefferson and Nathan work together to perfect their models, but what changes is Max and Nathan fall in love. Because of this, Nathan is not fixated on Rachel Amber. Max helped Nathan in becoming a more stable and dependent person and Max is the person who helps Nathan achieve the Prescott destiny with Max by his side.

Nathan kills Chloe before her eyes, Nathan kills himself and this leaves Max traumatized. This leaves Max vulnerable and malleable to be indoctrinated and groomed by Jefferson to becoming his new apprentice. Max becomes detached, cold and ruthless. She acts as the bait for the victims and doeses them and delivers the new models to Mark while he photographs them in the dark room and after Jefferson is done, Max disposes of them. It starts as just wanting a new partner, but soon blossoms into obsessive love. Mark loving Max and Max loving Mark and both willing to killing anyone that comes between them. Her powers never come and the storm never arrives. All that's left is Jefferson and Max working together to find the perfect muse for their sick obsessions and no one would ever expect them while they masquerade as the famous photographer and his prized pupil and as lovers, in reality they are wolves among the sheep.(I don't ship the cursed ship, I just felt it was the darker direction for this timeline)

This is a Max who has lived in Seattle all her life, Victoria Chase is her childhood best friend and she meets Mark Jefferson earlier than she would in canon. Jefferson offers to take Max on as his apprentice and Max is so enamored by the famous photographer and her parents couldn't be more thrilled. Jefferson helps Max to become a better photographer, helps her become more confident in her abilities, give Max a sense of style and flair and lets Max in on his true nature and to his surprise, she doesn't flinch, in fact she offers to help him with his victims and gets Victoria to join them. While Victoria flinched at first, she came around. As long as she's with Max and her favorite artist, it's all worthwhile to Victoria. Victoria would be who lures the models while Max and Victoria went to work. The Chases would help finance their "projects" because having a renowned photographer like Jefferson in their gallery is an opportunity they cannot pass up and thinks Victoria's idol will be the role model she desperately needed. Eventually they move shop to Arcadia Bay. Get in touch with the Prescotts and help set up the Dark Room. Eventually Nathan becomes a problem and Victoria tries to help him and Nathan lashes out, Max witnesses this and sees Nathan trying to kill her and that's when her powers manifest. Victoria goes to Max and they begin to plan Nathan's downfall. But as Nathan falls, Jefferson notices and feels Victoria has become a distraction to Max and tries to kill her. Max makes the hard choice. Her best friend and the girl she loves or Jefferson her mentor. Max lures Jefferson into a trap. When he thinks he has Victoria at her mercy, Max doses him and ties him up. Jefferson loses it, raging at her for betraying him after all she did for her and demands she unties him and kills Victoria. Max gets the gun and says "It's like you always taught me, Mark. Always take the shot" and just like that, Jefferson is dead. They go back to Arcadia Bay and see the storm raging. They make it to the lighthouse and see all the destruction. Victoria is distraught and asks Max what they should do. Max kisses Victoria and says "fuck it, let's blow this town and go back home." All that matters to this Max is Victoria and she'll be damned if Jefferson or a freak storm will take her from her.

#Life Is Strange #Chasefield #Caulscott #Jefferfield #Max Caulfield #Victoria Chase

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deezee112 · 1 month ago

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The worst ending 4 : A Shattered Bond

The worst ending 3 | The worst ending 5

Yandere!Cater Diamond x GN!Reader

A/N : It seems like this chapter is going to be long huh? I hope you like it. I will keep working hard and keep going!

Warning : This story contains themes of obsession , emotional manipulation , accidental death , and intense guilt.

Tags :

@iris-arcadia

If you want me to tag you please tell me.

English is not my first language.

The boy sat on the couch, his wide, sparkling eyes fixed on you as you stood before him, arms crossed. He wasn’t just a doll; he was alive in every sense that mattered. His innocent curiosity tugged at something deep within you, though your never admit it aloud.

You sighed heavily, brushing a stray strand of hair from you face. “ Alright, kid. ” you muttered. “ Guess I’m stuck with you. ”

The boy tilted his head, waiting expectantly for you next words.

“ I’ll name you...Cater. ” you finally said, after a long pause. The name felt cheerful, fitting for the mischievous spark you thought you glimpsed in his eyes.

“ Now, let’s get some ground rules straight. My house isn’t a playground, and you don’t touch my stuff without permission. Got it? ”

Cater nodded enthusiastically, though the sly gleam in his eyes suggested otherwise.

Cater was quick to adapt to modern life. Among his many discoveries, none captivated him more than social media. You often found him hunched over you phone, swiping through you apps with an expertise that belied his supposed inexperience.

“ Cater! Give me that! ” you snapped one morning, snatching you phone from his tiny hands.

“ Awwwww come on, y/n! ” he pouted, his freckled face the picture of innocence. “ I was just looking at your pictures! You look so cool in them. ”

You frowned. “ Don’t touch my phone without asking. ”

“ But your selfies are awesome! ” he protested. “ Can’t I post one? Pleaseeee? ”

You rolled your eyes. “ No And stop taking pictures of me without my permission. It’s weird. ”

Cater lips twitched into a cheeky smile. “ Weird? Or flattering? ”

“ Annoying. ” you deadpanned, glaring at him.

Despite you warnings, Cater obsession with you and you phone only grew. He became increasingly bold, sneaking into you room to snap candid photos while you wasn’t looking. Once, you caught him red handed, scrolling through you gallery.

“ Cater! What the hell are you doing? ” you yelled, grabbing the phone from him.

His wide eyes filled with mock remorse. “ I just wanted to see your pictures... You’re so cool, y/n! You should show the world how amazing you are! ”

You stared at him, you frustration boiling over. “ This isn’t funny, Cater. Respect my privacy, or you’re going to lose privileges. ”

“ Sorry.. ” he mumbled, though the mischievous glint in his eyes remained.

Over time, you began to notice other strange behaviors. Cater grew increasingly clingy, following you around the house and mimicking you movements. He’d often stare at you for long stretches, his expression unreadable.

One evening, as you worked on your laptop, you glanced up to find him standing in the doorway, watching you silently.

“ Cater? What are you doing? ” you asked, you voice laced with irritation.

“ Nothing! ” he replied, his tone unsettlingly cheerful. “ I just like being near you. ”

You frowned but decided not to press the issue.

You returned home from work, exhausted and soaked from the downpour, to find you phone missing.

“ Cater! ” you shouted, storming into the living room.

He appeared moments later, holding the phone in his hands. “ I was just borrowing it,. ” he said innocently.

“ Borrowing it for what?! ” you snapped, snatching it from him.

As you unlocked the screen, you stomach dropped. Dozens of pictures filled you gallery photos of you sleeping, cooking, working, and even stepping out of the shower. Your face flushed with a mix of anger and embarrassment.

“ Cater ” you said, your voice dangerously low. “ What is this? ”

His smile faltered. “ I...I just wanted to keep memories of you. You’re always so busy, and I wanted to have something to look at when you’re not around. ”

“ This is not okay! ” you yelled, your voice trembling. “ You crossed the line, Cater! This is an invasion of privacy! ”

He looked genuinely hurt, tears welling in his eyes. “ I didn’t mean to upset you... I just... I love you y/n. ”

You froze, the weight of his words sinking in.

Cater’s behavior grew increasingly erratic after the confrontation. He began isolating himself, retreating to his room for hours at a time. You thought it was for the best, giving them both some much-needed space.

But one night, everything came crashing down.

You woke to the sound of footsteps in your room. Groggily, you sat up, only to find Cater standing at the foot of you bed, holding a pair of scissors.

“ Cater? ” you asked, your voice thick with sleep. “ What are you doing..? ”

“ I just...I wanted to make sure you never leave me. ” he said, his voice trembling.

You heart raced as you carefully stood up. “ Put those down, Cater. We can talk about this— ”

He hesitated, his grip on the scissors loosening slightly. But as you stepped closer, you foot caught on the edge of the bed, and you stumbled forward.

In his panic, Cater swung the scissors, and everything happened in an instant.

You gasped, clutching you chest as blood seeped through you fingers.

“ No! No, no, no! ” Cater cried, dropping the scissors and rushing to you side. “ y/n! I-I didn’t mean to! Please don’t leave me! ”

You tried to speak, but the words wouldn’t come. Your vision blurred, and the last thing you saw was Cater’s tear-streaked face.

Cater couldn’t stop crying. He held you lifeless body in his arms, his heart shattering with every passing second.

“ I’m sorry... ” he whispered over and over again. “ I didn’t mean to hurt you. I just...I didn’t want to lose you... ”

The house felt empty without you. Cater wandered aimlessly, clutching your phone like a lifeline. He scrolled through you pictures, his tears smudging the screen.

One day, he posted a photo of your with the caption: " I'll never forget you, y/n. I'll make sure the world remembers how amazing you were. "

You account quickly became a shrine, flooded with comments and tributes from strangers who know nothing of the truth.

But Cater know. And the weight of his guilt was a burden he would carry forever.

#yandere twst #yandere twisted wonderland #yandere twst x reader #yandere cater diamond #au doll

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shkatzchen · 27 days ago

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Have you ever wanted to build an art gallery or museum?

Lamented having too many portraits and not enough wall space?

Wanted to hang a painting despite odd wall shapes?

Then perhaps the Hanging Chains are for you.

You can see the chains in use here, where I've used them with a customized version of the Arcadia Wall Niche to hang a painting in the niche.

These chains come in three lengths and allow (some) wall decor to be hung from the ceiling. The photo above is with medium height walls. The longest chain length does not work on the shortest wall height.

So what can you hang? Anything which is "ctnm compatible." What's that?

Well, that gets into how this particular object works. Once upon a time, qolygonal over at S4S made a mini-tutorial on how to add wall deco slots to items. These chains have that slot in between them. As such, objects which are designed to go in that slot, such as any item whose SlotTypeSet is 6FFE3FB4DB6337E0, will work.

Also tabletop TVs with 356D5A044DD97242 will slot. So you can have hanging TVs in places that wouldn't otherwise work with them.

Some of the paintings that I've shared (especially anything from the last few months) are marked as such. A variety of in game objects also work, though fewer than you would expect. However you can add this to many objects which don't have a SlotTypeSet, thereby making them work. Changing the SlotTypeSet to that number doesn't prevent them from also sticking to walls, it just gives them this handy little extra ability.

You may need to adjust the item's mesh to get it to connect where you want it to.

With the move objects cheat you can stack the longest and shortest chain lengths upon one another.

Without the move objects cheat you can stick them this close back to back.

Base Game Compatible. Comes in 3 lengths, and 3 swatches each.

Download the Merged file from SimFileShare here.

Need stuff to hang? Try these previously posted items:

Gilbert, Jeune Femme Lisant

Monet, Path in the Wheat Fields of Pourville

Payne, A Derbyshire Idyll

Friedrich, Wanderer Above the Sea of Clouds

Cole, The Course of Empire

Stillman, Love's Messenger

#sims 4 #simblr #sims #the sims 4 #my cc #ts4 #sims 4 cc #ts4cc #ts4 custom content #ccsaturday #ts4 maxis match #ts4 ceiling deco #ts4 paintings #ts4 cc #ts4 cc free #sims4cc #s4cc

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arcadiabaytornado · 22 days ago

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Was it ever said what Max's mom does for work? Bc a good idea for an AU could be Max's mom also getting a job at Blackwell as a teacher or a secretary or something? Or maybe Max's parents moving to Arcadia Bay so she won't be alone?

We are never told what Max's Mother does for work! In fact, we don't know what either of her parents do, so the AU possibilities are endless! Including the AU idea where both of her parents are in Arcadia Bay during the storm.

That would be so messed up, and both add so much weight and take away so much weight from the game at the same time. One hand: The call Chloe makes to Max at the art gallery would hit really hard if we also knew that Max's parents were being impacted by the storm. On the other hand: It kind of takes the wind out of the importance of Max and Chloe's dynamic if Max goes through for the photo for the sake of Chloe AND her parents.

Because part of what makes Max going back to save Chloe so impactful is that she's giving up everything she so badly wanted just to try and save her best friend" With that in mind, I think it's fair to say it would be less impactful if Max went back to save Chloe AND her parents because TBH most people would try and save their parents lives in that situation. However, the end choice would hit so much harder if had to choose between Chloe and parents. Both of those people are family to Max in their own ways, and that would add an extra factor into the dilemma

It's also really interesting to think of Max's Mother as a possible security guard for Blackwell because A: She'd met David and I'm sure form on opinion on him. B: She'd be aware that Chloe very likely broke into the pool and that Max was very likely with her. C: She'd be more aware of all the strange stuff happening, and be more aware of what's going on in Max's world. That could either give Max another strong support system or another cause of stress depending on if Vanessa would support Max no matter what or be annoyed/worried by her sudden teenage antics.

This AU would be really interesting all around! If you could tell by the small book I wrote about it lmao. I need a fic about this now.

#lis #life is strange #max caulfield #asks #Vanessa Caulfield

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winter-leftovers · 1 year ago

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Til The End Of Eternity || Chapter twenty: We Need To Talk About Mom’s Paintings (20/?)

(Douxie Casperan x f!reader)

Summary: Y/n is trying to figure her life out but is going to be hard since her brother is the new trollhunter and she is plagued by dreams and feelings she doesn’t understand.

Chapter Summary: Morgana possesses Claire. Douxie and Y/n have a moment. Y/n needs her father.

Word count: 2568

Warnings: we have everything. We have angst, we have comfort, we have some I would say +16 stuff

(Season 3 Episodes 2,3,4,5)

Song?: The Night We Met by Lord Huron and Phoebe Bridgers

Previous - Next

Masterlist

Y/n looked around the room, the once dark and colorless basement was now an art gallery full of colorful paintings of creatures that shouldn’t exist against vibrants backgrounds.

She observed her mother paint a portrait the size of the wall of her ex-boyfriend's troll from with an intensity she had never seen before. She didn’t even know her mother could paint.

“Mom, I packed you lunch!” Jim screamed from the kitchen.

“Down here honey!” Screamed back Barbara without taking her eyes from the painting.

Jim slowly walked down stairs and saw her sister sitting in a stool observing the spectacle.

“What’s going on?” He mouthed.

Y/n shrugged, she was just as confused, with her head she pointed at the big Mr. Strickler’s painting.

Jim’s eyes opened like plates.

“So, what do you think? I call it “Goodbye, Walt” You warned me he was bad news, but I didn’t listen. Then he vanished without a goodbye. What kind of man does that? Hence the horns. They’re symbolic” Barbara proudly showed off her painting.

“Wow, mom. Quite the imagination” Jim turned to Y/n.

“Yeah” Y/n is lost for words. She didn’t know what to do “Now, I know where I got my artistic side is from”

“Aw, thank you sweety” Barbara pinched Y/n’s cheek “First your father, and now him. I swear, if I ever see Walt again…”

“On that note,” Jim nervously chuckled, starting to go upstairs “gotta run”

“Coward” Y/n whispered.

—

“Hello” Y/n announced her arrival at the bookstore.

“Hello, love” Douxie emerged from under the counter mirroring the smile in Y/n’s face “You’re early. I thought you were coming for lunch. We were going to the park”

Y/n walked to Douxie and kissed his cheek.

“Are you kicking me out?” She chuckled against his cheek.

“What?! No?!” He screamed. For a moment, fear creeped on Douxie's spine. Did he make Y/n feel rejected?

“Relax” Y/n rested her head on his shoulders, and patted his chest “I just wanted to see you. Is that such a crime?” It wasn’t a complete lie. Y/n wanted to see Douxie, she always wanted to see him. But today, she needed to get out of her house, stay away from her mother’s art.

“Stop toying with the kid. He only slept two hours” Archie jumped on top of the counter.

“Hi to you too, Arch” Y/n scratched the cat’s chin.

“Yeah, sorry. I’m a little bit on edge. It was a long night. Too many trolls in Arcadia wreaking havoc” Douxie let himself fall on the chair “Do you know what’s up with that?”

Y/n nodded. She doesn’t want to lie to Douxie but if she told him the truth she knew he would want to help and that would open a can of worms that she doesn’t want to deal with just yet.

“No idea” she shook her head “that’s weird” she observed Douxie’s dark eyebags “Hey, why don’t you go lay down until lunch and I stay here?”

“No. No. I’m okay” he straightened himself in the chair, dropping a cup with pens with his elbow.

Y/n and Archie shared a look.

“You’re not” Y/n gently push him from the shoulders of the chair “you’re missing a cat and you didn’t notice it”

“No, Al is…” Douxie started to look everywhere as Y/n guided him to the stairs.

“See? Go to sleep. See you at lunch” Y/n waved until Douxie disappeared into the distance. She turned to Arch “Where’s Al, anyway?”

“Who knows. He said something about a meeting with a duck and then something about a dandelion and tacos” Archie rolled his eyes.

“Don’t laugh at him. Is always important to have connections”

Y/n helped out a few regulars and a few not so regulars during the afternoon. Time moved slowly, the dog outside the bookstore sniffed the tree comically slow until he found a spot, the traffic lights wouldn’t change colors, everything seemed to move so painfully slow. She looked back at Archie to see if he was also affected by this strange phenomenon but he was belly up under a ray of sunshine. She smiled and walked the small store coming back to the spot where Douxie had given her her old book. She couldn’t see it back then but now, with this piece of the puzzle back in its place she could recognise that Douxie had reconstructed her old bookshelf from their time in Camelot.

“Lady Y/n” Hisirdoux shyly knocked on the door.

“Come on in” Y/n answered, her voice almost above a whisper. She was laying on the floor with her back against the bookshelf, her nose buried in a red leather bound book and her bare feet were covered by her faithful friend, Alfred.

“Where…?” Hisirdoux looked around the room until he saw the cat’s brown tail coming from under the bed “Y/n?” He called.

“Mmmh?” She lifted her view from the book, her hair was in a perfect braid but she was still in her nightgown.

“Master M…”

“Y/n?” Morgana pushed the door wide open.

Hisirdoux jumped back like a cat.

“Why aren't you wearing your dress?” The woman grabbed the dress from the bed and ran next to the girl.

“I thought I had time” Y/n looked at Hisirdoux her eyes filling with tears “I…I…”

From the hallway, they could hear the echo of the steps followed by a staff hitting the stone covered floor.

Hisirdoux’s heart fell to his stomach when he saw Y/n’s red eyes.

“Hisirdoux, can you distract him?” Asked Morgana as she prepared the girl’s dress.

Hisirdoux pursed his lips and nodded before running down the hallway.

Y/n smiled while the tears fell as she heard Hisirdoux’s insanes complain about his lack of staff.

“He is nice” Morgana whispered .

Y/n’s cheeks redden as her bracelet, she lowered her head and played with it while Morgana tightened her corset.

The woman chuckled, “He could be a nice friend… Like in the book”

“But…”

“And, don’t…but mater me”

“Y/n?! Y/n?!” Douxie screamed.

Y/n blinked a couple times and came back to the floor of the bookstore. Her knees red from supporting her weight on the floor. She looked around. She doesn’t remember getting to the ground, she doesn’t remember grabbing the book.

“Love?!” Douxie asked, voice laced with desperation.

“Doux? When did you wake up?” Y/n tried to get up but her legs failed her, luckily, Douxie caught her before she could hit the floor.

“A couple minutes ago. What happened?” He guided her to the small couch and crouched in front of her.

“I..I was looking at the books and then…I had a vision?” She frowned.

“A vision?” He repeated.

“From the past…remember the morning after Morgana gave me the anthology?”

Douxie smiled at the memory, that was the beginning of their friendship.

“I was ten and you were nine and deadly afraid of angering your father” he said a little absent minded.

“Yeah…I almost remembered him” she looked at him, her eyes full of tears like that morning.

“You’ll remember him” Douxie’s heart fell to his stomach just like that morning.

Y/n looked deeply into Douxie's hazel eyes, the only eyes that she ever wanted to look at in moments like this and closed the distance kissing him, her hands quickly finding their home amongst his hair. Douxie instantly returned the kiss with the same sweetness but more desperation. Everytime they would touch, he needed to taste every drop of it, even if it was an accidental graze of hands during the day.

His hands lifted her from the couch and her legs quickly snaked around his waist.

“Doux” Y/n panted, holding his cheeks “people can see us”

“I don’t care” he whispered, his eyes full of lust going back and forth between her eyes and her lips.

“Doux…”Y/n whispered. She was shocked. Douxie was a little more shy than that.

“Let’s go upstairs” he said into her ear before biting her earlobe.

“Mmmh” she laughed.

As Douxie’s feet would step each step of the stairwell, Y/n’s heart would pound faster, stronger. She hid her face on Douxie’s neck but the familiar smell did nothing to calm the tremors in her hands, in her torso.

Douxie laid both of them on the couch of the second floor where they would usually nap and started to kiss Y/n’s neck, his hands slowly feeling her stomach up to her sides. Y/n instinctively opened her legs to give him space, her hips moved against his, her hands went to his chest, her body reacted to his but a part of her mind was confused.

“You’re so pretty” Douxie's voice brought her to the present. His shirt was missing, his toned chest exposed for Y/n to see.

“Look who’s talking” she put a hand on his now red chest and pushed him back.

“So pretty” he repeated as he observed her while she sat on top of him.

Y/n kissed him again and again and slowly went down from his mouth, to his chin, to his neck, to the spot under his jaw where she could feel his pulse. Douxie groaned making Y/n smile but it quickly got erased from her face when her hands started to shake again while Douxie took out her shirt leaving her with her bra exposed.

Y/n put her hands on Douxie’s shoulders and moved her hips, maybe if her hands felt him they would remember him.

“Y/n?” Douxie’s hand caressed Y/n cheek “are you alright?”

She looked down at him, at his eyes full of worry and smiled.

“Of course” she kissed him but this time he didn’t return it as passionately as before, this time was sweet, understanding.

With a swift move he was on top of her again and could inspectionate her face more clearly.

“No, you’re not” he furrowed “we don’t have to do this, love” he started to pull back.

“No, I want this” she put her hand on his shoulder “it just…” she felt the blood rush to her cheeks. To Y/n Ambrosius it isn’t a big deal but to Y/n Lake it is “You know…”

But Douxie’s big eyes told her he didn’t know.

“I know that you and I…you know but…Y/n Lake hasn’t” she explained.

“I don’t follow” he whispered.

“You’re gonna make me say it” she whispered to herself “Y/n Lake is still part of me, right?”

He nodded.

“Y/n Lake is a…virgin”

Douxie’s blood drained from his face and came back in a rush.

“Oh. Oh” he sat on his heels “I see”

Y/n sat up, her body warming up from the shyness “I want this”

Douxie chuckled and kissed her cheek.

“Me too but…” he grabbed both cheeks with his hands “this time has to be special too” kissing her nose.

The butterflies ruptured Y/n’s stomach traveling through her body. She nodded, a lovesick smile plastered on her face.

—

“I was falling asleep. Was it necessary to call me sixty five times?” Y/n screamed as she opened Claire’s bedroom door.

Claire was floating in the middle of the room. The boys had tied her up chains that her magic seemed unable to break.

“I’ll wear your spine as my crown, peasants!” Claire screamed in anger.

“That’s a new one” said Jim pointing his bat to Claire.

“Her creativity knows no bounds” added Toby.

Claire screamed, throwing Jim and Toby threw the air with her magic. Y/n was able to stay put on the door. She had been more thrown out by the familiarity of the magic than the magic itself. She took a step forward, her eyes focused on the changed Claire, her voice was different and so was her magic.

“Apologies for my delay” Blinky barged into the room and was able to set the chair back into the ground and with a quick move of a stone set the chains back into place.

The troll explained the why of his delay but Y/n couldn’t hear. She was consumed by the weight in her throat, by the burning in her eyes, something in Claire’s eyes was pulling her to the ground.

“Does the name Morgana mean anything to you?” Jim asked Blinky.

Y/n mouth hung open. The memory of the red haired woman holding her hand through the woods, braiding her hair, teaching her magic, being slayed by a sword, all came back like a stab to the heart. The myth was true. Morgana was alive.

“Morgan Le Fay, Merlin’s apprentice” explained Blinky, scared of naming the monster.

“Like Merlin who made my amulet?” asked Jim

“No” whispered Y/n and took a step back.

“I spit on his name as I spit on his grave” Morgana chuckles “Don’t we, Birdie?” She looked directly at Y/n.

“Sounds like they didn’t get along” Toby hid behind Jim.

Y/n kept walking backwards until her legs hit the bed and sat down, too afraid to make a sound.

“He thinks he can be rid of me? The fool” she laughs and turns to the guys in front of her “I will erase his name and all of his creations”

Y/n looked down at her hands and saw the tears falling down. She wasn’t sure of what she was more afraid of: the ghost in front of her or what the ghost could do to her friends.

She turned to the door and ran. Afraid that the grief and the nostalgia would bend her will. Ran far from Claire’s house, from Douxie’s library, she ran until her feet ached, until her knees gave up and then, she fell to the ground, her hands softening the blow.

A broken sob escaped her throat, her body gave out, falling to the side on top of the grass. She pulled her knees to her chest and prayed that the darkness of the night was enough to hide her from the world.

One last sob abandoned her lips before closing her eyes:

“I want my father”

—

“Good morning” whispered a familiar raspy voice.

Y/n felt a familiar hand caressing her hair. Without opening her eyes she leaned into the touch, she knew that feeling before she was even born. She stretched her hand and grabbed the familiar robe, an old habit she hadn’t shaken.

“Come one, Birdie, open your eyes” the man insisted, moving the final strand of hair from her face.

“No” she clutched the robe tighter and moved closer to the warmth that the man’s body provided.

“Why?” The man chuckled.

“I’m afraid” she cried.

“What?” The man grabbed Y/n and cradled her “Why?”

“I’m afraid you won’t be there when I open my eyes” she grabbed the closest piece of fabric she could feel.

“Oh, Birdie” the man rocked her “Of course I’ll be here”

Y/n slowly opened her eyes and under the light of the sun she saw a man with crystalline blue eyes.

“Father?” She asked before the weight of reality brought her back and made her realize that she was alone and that her father was laying on a tomb waiting to be awakened.

A/n: was that a lot?

-Yes -No

Did you expect the revelation?

-Yes -No -Why would you do that to a child?

Can you tell I have daddy issues by my choice of father?

-Yes -Yes

#tales of arcadia #douxie x reader #douxie #toa #trollhunters #hisirdoux casperan #hisirdoux x reader #my writing #Til The End Of Eternity

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mediocrewallflow3r · 2 years ago

Text

To Be Loved and Have Loved - (Nathan Prescott/ AFAB Reader) Pt. 1

Title: To be Loved and Have Loved

Part 1, Part 2

Pairing: Post-Storm Nathan Prescott/ Female Reader

Rating: Explicit- minors shoo!

Word Count: 1.7k

Content/Warnings: A continuation to @delopsia 's "To Build A Home", takes place directly after, Sloppy makeouts, Light Dom/sub, Good Nathan Prescott, Life is Strange Comic Lore, post-storm, Nathan ruining his Father's dining room out of spite, plus size! reader, Nathan being soft for only the reader, Aftercare, slight subspace, future Metallica References, Nathan Prescott Needs a Hug, Praise Kink, Safe Sane and Consensual, Fluff and Smut.

A/N: Hi there my lovelies! It’s been a long while. I’ve been away improving my art in college, trying to improve at writing, and becoming a part of the Tumblr community. This is a continuation of https://www.tumblr.com/delopsia/672519407059222528/to-build-a-home?source=share and will be posted in parts. Pre-writing and posting I reached out to Del and got permission to continue their lovely fic. I’m honored that I can post my writing in addition to theirs! Feedback is very appreciated and please go check out Del!

"Why do I get the feeling that you're planning something devious?" You chirp as the two of you begin walking to your car.

"How do you feel about joining me for a secret rendezvous in my father's precious dining room?".

"Why most definitely my good sir!" you gallantly respond, curtsying for dramatic effect.

"You're a fucking weirdo, you know that right?" Nathan says, shaking his head incredulously. Though, you can see the blush dusting his pale ears.

The stars above twinkle brightly in the suburban sky while you and Nathan pile into your car, excitement buzzing between the both of you.

After turning the ignition, Nathan's hand gently reaches over and squeezes your thigh. His nimble fingers toy with the tights almost bursting because of your larger thighs.

"What's that for, cowboy?".

You watch as his bright blue eyes meet yours, amusement painting his features.

Nathan adverts his gaze from the stars and meets your eyes. "Nothing in particular, nerd," Nathan smirks under your intense gaze.

Huffing, you pull out of the old church parking lot. You see in the corner of your eye Nathan waves to a few people. A smile graces your lips at the thought he considers some survivors worthy of a wave now.

Driving through the back roads of Arcadia Bay proves interesting, many broken limbs and scrap are still littering the road- hindering the ability of drivers. You try not to think about the families that may have not survived while you drive past crushed homes.

From what you've heard, Max and Chloe have found a place closer to the remnants of downtown Arcadia. According to Victoria, Max is even collaborating with her art gallery in New York. She mentioned something about Chloe working up to being a small-town mechanic. You try not to think about Mark Jefferson's ongoing trial.

"What're you thinkin' so hard about, little doe?" Nathan questions, gently. His thumb tugs and twists at your tights fervently.

"Our friends." You sigh.

"Pfftt- we have friends? Since when?".

"Since you got off your high horse and we started leaving our home more,".

Nathan tugs your tights in retaliation, snapping them back loudly for effect.

"Don't get bratty with me, Y/N, you know better,".

"That's ironic coming from you, Mr. 'The Prescott’s rule this town!'".

Nathan laughs, a real goofy laugh, his canine teeth shining bright in the moonlight.

He rolls down the windows, whooping and hollering, suddenly. Your eyes can't stray away from his strawberry-blonde hair swirling around in the breeze.

"Yeah, I'd fucking suppose so!" He shouts back over the loud wind.

Giggling quietly, your eyes catch a glance of the Prescott Manor gate between the dark trees causing you to pull into the long-winded driveway subsequently. The lights are off, as per usual. You allow yourself to enjoy the cold night air like the person beside you in the vehicle.

Hesitantly, you pull into the garage. The lights automatically turn on brightly, allowing you to see the drywall- that you know must cost more than your entire tuition. The old Nathan would have pretended not to see your shaking hands gripping the steering wheel tight, but this one can't and won't miss that shit.

Surprisingly, Nathan begins to lean over the center console, his hand moving from your thigh to gently squeeze your hand. In the corner of your eye, you see his normally death-worthy stare turn soft.

"You can relax baby, I don't care if you hit the drywall. I've done it before for fucks sake!".

"You noticed?".

"How could I have not? You're shaking like a goddamn leaf.".

You purse your lips, nodding. You know Nathan is right, but the one interaction you experienced with his father sits heavy in your mind. The anxious silence stretches whilst Nathan begins to gather your coats and other belongings from the back seat.

You hear the click of the passenger door opening and then Nathan speaking gently to you, "Let's go, weirdo.". On autopilot, you open the car door and begin walking towards the Manor doorsteps. Nathan, much further ahead of you, shifts through his keys looking for the correct one. After a few moments, you hear a quiet "a ha!" When he finds the right key.

Nathan pushes the door open with you wandering close behind him. He hits the main hallway light switch. Both of you take off your shoes in comfortable silence. You were taking much longer, the converse adorning your feet proving difficult to take off quickly.

Then, Nathan's sharp cupid bow is kissing your ear, and his rough hands gently squeeze your shoulders. "We don't have to do this tonight," he whispers into the dusted pink shell of your ear.

Oh God, but I want to.

Pushing your back firmer onto his chest, you respond bashfully, "I want this, I do, I'm just nervous.".

Nathan's hands wander, slipping under your sweater- caressing your stomach and happy trail. "Why're you nervous? It's just me,".

"I want things to be good for you,", I don't want you to leave me, remains heavy in your mind as you nervously chuckle out into the dusty Manor hallway.

Nathan's hands stop in their tracks. "Are you fucking serious?".

Unspoken words sour inside Nathans's mouth; "Do you know who I am? I've killed people. My hands shouldn't be touching your kind body. I've been with so many people, you shouldn't have second best as your first. I have to take medicine to be sane. I scream and shout at you regularly. You shouldn't trust me.".

Caressing his right-hand causes Nathan's eyes to droop warmly as he lets out a quiet, "humph".

"Ever since I've met you, I haven't wanted anybody else...", you continue, laying everything out on the table- literally.

"Then I s'pose we're on the same fuckin' page, baby. ", Nathan’s voice has got that deep, gravelly tone to it again, the tone that you remember with vivid detail, the tone he used that one Thursday morning before the storm.

Your shoulders fold inwards, warmth blooming inside your chest. Nathan's chest presses into your shoulder blades while freezing hands play with your belly button piercing, and his breath fans out across the baby hairs growing on your neck. He's everywhere but nowhere.

"To the dining room...?".

"Fuck yeah, doe-eyes.".

Efficiently, Nathan hauls you up into his lanky arms and quickly walks down the winding corridor. Abruptly, he turns to the left entering his family's large dining room. He pauses at the door briefly, allowing you to hit the light switch.

Almost immediately, the ridiculously large chandelier gracing the ceiling of the room lit up brightly. Nathan moved less than gracefully, sitting you down in a dining chair. He made quick work of the dusty table settings, quite obviously for decoration, by grasping the end of the tablecloth and yanking it off the table.

Before you could even register the loud noises of shattered glass, Nathan's soft lips were on yours. Nathan gently cradled your head, his other arm lifting you onto the wooden dining table. Soft groans settled in the back of his throat after hearing a small whimper from you.

Taking a breath, Nathan leaned forward on yours, his nose brushing gently on yours. “Easy, easy, baby,” he whispered, “It’s just me,”. Please don’t be scared of me , remains on the tip of his tongue. “I know,” you whispered back, understanding. A pause settled in the dining room, heavy gasps coming in and out of both of your lungs.

Nathan settles onto his forearms, lips brushing against yours but not entirely closing the gap, bony hips circling gently into yours. “I think I’m getting major Deja-vu right now, Nate,” you chuckled, brushing your fingers through his fiery hair.

“I don’t think this time’ll be the same,” Nathan chuckled, chin resting on the top of your sternum.

"Can I touch you?", you ask gently, hands itching to reach out and touch.

Nathan's eyes flick away from your face, his teeth beginning to chew on his lip anxiously. You feel a tremor run through his spine.

"Uh- yeah, you can touch me, just- um- tell me where before you do," Nathan stutters out, his eyes not meeting your hopeful ones.

"Okay," you whisper, smiling up at him.

Nathan's lips tug into a soft smile and his dimples show slightly despite his avoidance of eye contact.

"Can I touch uh- down there? " You nervously ask, peering up at Nathan's sharp features.

Way to fucking go Shakespeare.

Airy chuckles erupt from Nathan's lungs, his laughter shaking the both of you.

"Yes, babe, you can touch my dick, that's why we're fuckin’ here, to begin with,", he says in amusement, a smirk gracing his rose pout.

Your smile quickly shifts into a pathetic pout, and Nathan's face softens upon seeing the change in emotion. "Don't be upset baby, you're doing just what I asked," he coos at you, his fingers slightly pinching your cheek. That once faint, woodsy musk cologne invades your senses, his praise settling deep into your lower abdomen. Nathan's lips brush against yours and his tongue cheekily licks over your lips to the tip of your nose. An amused breath releases from Nathan’s lungs as you continue attempting to lock lips with him. Silently, your hand clenches up and hits Nathan’s shoulder in respite.

“Stop teasing me, you motherfucker,” you whimper out in frustration, your legs flailing underneath the weight of Nathan’s lithe body.

If he doesn’t fuck you six ways to Sunday soon, you’re going to be so pissed at him.

Nathan’s slick tongue trails over your collarbone up to the ridges of your neck slowly. His hands glide over the plush skin adorning your hips, and deep short breaths release from his nose loudly.

“I’ll tease you when I wanna’ tease you,” Nathan teases, his voice being muffled by the spot of your skin he’s worrying to death with his teeth.

In retaliation of some sort, your right hand begins drifting down towards the stiff bulge prominent in Nathan’s designer jeans. Your fingers sneak under the waistline quietly and begin brushing your hand over the curls adorning his happy trail. Nathan ever distracted with the large hickies that he’s painting your chest with, groans in surprise.

Your fingers brush over the tip of his cock gently, the girth taking you by surprise.

“When were you gonna’ tell me you were packing?”, you tease Nathan, loosely gripping his cock.

A soft, “Fuck,” comes out in a deep breath from Nathan while his fingers travel from your hips up to your plump tits.

“I didn’t plan on telling you, I planned on showing you,” he chuckles.

“Then fucking show me you tease!” you shout at him, almost playfully. Deep down you want him to snap, to let go.

Quickly Nathan’s hand gently slaps your thigh, re-establishing his commanding demeanor. He leans his face right in front of yours as his intense gaze bears down on you; “You’ll get what you want, you know that, so behave,” he hisses out.

#nathan prescott #life is strange #lis #max caulfield #chloe price #victoria chase #mark jefferson #fanfic #wallflower writes (✿◠‿◠#nathan prescott/reader #nathan prescott x reader

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peachlicks79 · 3 months ago

Text

Before the Storm

Before The Storm

"This should be it. Thanks for coming with me, Lena." Kara held the door open for her friend as Lena slipped past, the crisp step of her high heels getting lost in the bar's happy hour noise, patrons yelling over the pumping base and lively karaoke. Kyrptonian eyes were bright as she peered at the bottles lining the walls like an alcoholic library. They were both here on prelude to business for tomorrow: Kara for an interview with the art gallery that was setting to open tomorrow curating works from all human and alien walks of life, and Lena taking a financial investment in an up and coming woman-owned business in the arts. Their meeting inspired a casual stakeout of the places around, and they had stuck to the bar beside the art gallery where Kara had done some research and found out the owners were friends and visited to support often.

"Of course, Kara. It's nice to have a night out sometimes." Red lipstick parted in a fond smile as the CEO took in her blonde friend sweeping by her and leading the way. It was always interesting seeing Kara in different situations in her reporter role. While Lena normally didn't frequent these types of establishments other than the monthly get-together with the Superfriends, it was an even rarer sight to see the Kryptonian around other aliens outside of her Supergirl role.

Victoria Chase had made a name for herself after the storm of Arcadia Bay, photographing the horrific event and raising money for the town's rebuild outside of her family name years ago. The incident had piqued Lena's interest, the adopted Luthor feeling the tell-tale call of bloodline and needing to make a name for herself outside of it garnering many a look at the art portfolio Victoria had taken to posting online. After five years and times of travel capturing more and more natural horrors, Victoria had stated in a press announcement she was looking to open up her own art gallery, away from her parents' Chase Space, with her partner, Max Caulfield in National City. Their motivation to do so was for inclusion of all, aliens and humans alike, to come together and share in expressions of art concerning global warming and other natural events that had taken away homes and towns and cities. A portion of their proceeds would go to charities, and further the awareness of supporting more green ecological steps and inclusive diversity.

Alien Amnesty had been put into place for the better part of three years, but Lena knew better than anyone a law passing would take time to cement itself socially. Noticing the ease of which Kara carried herself between the tables and people, Lena was grateful this establishment had succeeded in making aliens and humans alike comfortable. When Kara beckoned her over to a snagged table and three sets of double shot glasses in front of her, Lena made her way over and raised an amused eyebrow.

"Normally you're an eat first, drink later type." Her statement was met with a wide smile and sparkling blue eyes gently pushing the drink in front of her.

"You don't have to if you don't want, Lena," Kara started, then nodded up as she raised a toast to the ceiling. Lena's eye followed as Kara continued, holding her glass out for her friend to cheers against. "But there was a poster saying we would get a free appetizer if we ordered two drinks, and a free photo after five!!"

Polaroids draped down the pillars and sides of walls, and the ceiling was covered in stories. It looked like a community effort for interaction, and at that the dark-haired woman acquiesed to a quick clink against Kara's glass as she tipped her head back and took the offered drink. Warmth bloomed through her as she swallowed, her chest tightening as she watched Kara down hers, the blonde a mix between business and casual as she slapped her palms down on the table, letting out little taps against the hardwood.

"Whooo, that's new!!" Tilting her head, Lena couldn't help but laugh, Kara's outburst louder than the crackbreak of the pool balls behind their shared space.

"What is?" Kara fanned herself slightly, crossing her legs and bumping Lena's a bit as she repositioned herself. She had taken to wearing more pants as of late, explaining that she enjoyed her costume's suit better with coverage, and it reflected nicely of the fall weather. The blonde may be indestructible, but sensation was sensation and Lena knew better than most the effect of clothing and how it could be worn as an armored aesthetic.

"They serve alien drinks here. Wierdly enough, it tastes better than where we normally go."

"Are you sure you don't want to stick to human alcohol where it won't affect you so you can get more free potstickers?" Lena teased, leaning back and enjoying the relative ease the drink brought her. Kara gasped, mock glaring.

"How did you know my plan? And what if I wanted something else?" Lena threw up a hand in a motion that excused her friend's sentence and laughed. "Darling, I know you better than that."

Blue eyes blinked slowly at her, and Kara's smile deepened as she leaned forwards. Not for the first time Lena's eyes dipped to those pink lips, then blinked to take in all of Kara downing another drink. It had been a fairly hectic week with Alex and J'onn running Supergirl into multiple mob jobs, National City thugs scurrying under the last covers of summer parties and illegal rings where out of towners had taken to coming to. It wasn't anything outside of the ordinary, but Kara had confessed to Lena she preferred the direct fights of alien tussles where she didn't have to hold back as much to hurt anyone. There hadn't been a lot of down time as of late for a one on one get-together, and Kara seemed determined to catch up now since the season was changing and the last they had been out had been near the start of the summer. Lena didn't miss the assassination attempts as more and more time passed and the city understood she had a good communication with Supergirl, but the CEO refused to admit she looked forwards to the blonde superhero always arriving in the nick of time. Damn her and her masochistic streak.

Around them the place burst into a roar of excitement, and Lena blinked. Both her and Kara looked back at the open door where a pair of women had come in, and one was currently in a headlock by a tattooed punk who popped up from out behind the bar. The shorter brunette was laughing, freckles highlighted by the heat of the sun, and in a smooth motion stepped away and a shutter clicked from a polaroid camera. The print captured just in time as the pixie-cut blonde stepped forwards and hooked a leg behind the knee of the lean woman, effectively sweeping the blue-haired punk off her feet and nonchalantly tipping her back onto the floor in a move that would do Alex Danvers proud. Before a real scuffle could begin, a flash of red flannel had settled between the two women and Kara and Lena looked on with interest when another woman with a feathered earring playfully flicked both of them on the nose.

"Cut it out, Chlo, and really, Victoria? Couldn't you and Max have visited any earlier?"

A snort came from the taller blonde, elegantly righting her hair as she took the shorter brunette woman's hand in hers and walked deeper into the bar, where patrons nodded happily to the newcomers and raised hands for high fives.

"Tell that to this one over here. . . she really Maxed out her excuses with the jetlag from France."

"Tori!! You said we wouldn't kiss and tell."

"Oh, so it's YOU I should be grilling, Mad Max!! Not surprised, only disgusted. C'mon, I found a song that suits you both to a T."

Kara and Lena turned back to each other and laughed, a little surprised and both delighted. Victoria Chase and Max Caulfield had touched down in the area, and they were privy to a slightly hectic reunion with their friends. Kara recognized Chloe Price as the punk tattooed owner from the research she had done, and it was a bit of a shock to Lena as she recognized Rachel Amber, if only from her guilty pleasure of watching old campy horror movies in her rare spare time. The Oregonian actress was soon to shoot a movie, little else was known about it. While they watched the four set up by the karaoke where Chloe nodded to the host, Kara and Lena received their three free orders of potstickers and both asked for a different dish on the menu, plus Lena another drink. She'd asked a bit earlier, and Kara had told her she really only ordered 3 alien shots and normal alcohol. Their bar food was turning out to be quite delicious, and Lena noticed Kara was turning a bit red as she looked at her, finishing off the third of the doubles she had gotten.

Behind them, Chloe Price had picked up the mic and was mimicking playing an electric guitar while whipping the cord around in circle as she jammed. Kara and Lena could see the mischievous glint to her as she herded her two friends and partner into a round table and the bar started thumping as aliens and humans alike cheered -- how did Lena just now figure out this was a gay bar?

"To a happy belated birthday to Queen Bee of Blackwell, long may it suck ass so we can forget the fucking horrors there -- to Sticky!! Icky!! Vicki!!"

The crowd went wild. Kara and Lena laughed along with them as the blonde prepared to lunge towards the cocky punk, and they both watched as Max yelled too as Rachel cheered and easily tipped Victoria back into her seat. Charisma flowed out of Chloe as the beat hit, and suddenly Chloe was singing as she mobbed the mic and took over the karaoke floor.

"I don't want a girl who gets a car for her Sweet 16 Or spends a stack of dollar bills on a limousine--"

Kara spit-takes into the air and gapes while Lena freezes.

"I want a girl who takes a bus and who wears baggy jeans--"

Their eyes meet and Lena's eyes hammer. Those words slam into her and she remembers the early first times of meeting Kara, where she had told her she'd flown there, on a bus, after not needing her parking ticket validated. God, her attraction to the blonde had been so very obvious in hindsight. Kara had stood for someone who understood in the first moments of meeting her, and Lena remembered how much it had hurt when the truth had come to fruition. They had slowly pieced it back together, but damn, had it been hard, and she had ached, ached to see how much of Kara she had missed after that reveal.

"Rockin' Nike Airs, what the hell are Louboutins?!"

The kryptonian watched with wide eyes as Victoria Chase kicked off her a sneaker and it hit the upside of Chloe's head. The punk just laughed and continued to skip around, showmanship kicked into high gear as she hit energetic beat after energetic beat.

"Don't want no fake tan, short skirt, Daddy's money don't work!! Shop until you drop on the toooown~!!"

Lena flushed hard as she watched Kara's gaze snap to hers, then down, almost helplessly sliding down her legs before the blonde looked up, guiltily wide-eyed. In the background Max was keeping Victoria from strangling Chloe, laughing a bit herself, and Rachel was getting up, slinking to join her loud girlfriend.

"I want a girl stronger than her father Someone who will laugh at tryna fit in the crowd~"

Kara's eyes are seeming to be an apraisal, and her fingers are grabbing for a potsticker. At this point the song is pointed and from what Lena knows of Victoria Chase, the photographer had been fairly successful in being everything that this song wasn't. Clearly Chloe was making fun, and as Victoria stopped promising violence, Lena watched as she saw Max gently kiss her, grabbing her polaroid camera and snapping a selfie of the four as Chloe pulled Rachel firmly to her side, where they started to sway, looking into her the actress's eyes.

"And all we used to dream about~ Is getting rich and getting out~"

They both watched as Rachel and Chloe touched their foreheads together, singing a beautiful symphony, and then Rachel pulled away to do a twirl, Chloe expertly pulling her close again and dipping her, then pulling her back up to grin at each other. Lena felt her heart clench, partly of her own history, but also because of Kara, who she could see watching her, seeing how she was taking the song. Somewhere deep inside, Lena felt a tie to this song, or at least to the chorus. What she wouldn't give for more time with Kara, especially after it had taken them so long to come back together. Her penthouse had only known happiness when Kara had been there, and it was slowly becoming something more than a place to cry as she pulled herself back together and out from her family's legacy.

"Move to the nicer part of town Where we'd have numbers on our house It took awhile to figure out~"

The Oregonians were all smiling at each other, clearly having remembered the horrors of Arcadia Bay and knowing all of their relationships and friendships were stronger after it. Lena looked to Kara and found her steadfastly looking back, and suddenly Lena is reaching out, Kara's hands in hers, and they cheer to Chloe as she gallantly spins Rachel away from her back to her seat and resumes her birthday callout to Victoria.

"What type of girl that I'm about Who brings the real man out of me -- Rachel knows!!"

The crowd laughs at that, and Lena hears the tempo pick up again, Kara's hand firmly in her own even though the kyptonian is trembling.

"I don't really want no trust fund baby I like my women independent. And I say to people, that's my lady And we don't need nothing e~e~else"

The room was stifling hot, the crowd around them joining the singing. Kara was looking at Lena like she had so many times before, and Lena wondered how many times they had been down this road of calling it friendship while giving to each other everything past friendship and any sort of label. Lena recognized this was ridiculous, but as a businesswoman and a Luthor, she had been raised to stamp down anything that was short of exposing imperfection. Two double shots in wasn't anything near what she could take, but Lena blinked and was reminded, she was in a gay bar with her best friend and it had been upwards of three years since she had Kara in her life. Kara, who had seen her so broken at her worst, and had promised to always protect her. Kara, who even when they were at their fallout and Lena had desperately tried to hate, had not given up. The Luthor may be in her blood, but Lena wondered now what that meant when Kara and her were just women at a bar. Not a reporter and CEO, not a Super and a Luthor, but two best friends, and this song-- Chloe was outdoing herself.

"Don't want a girl who takes selfies, Want her makeup free!!"

This time it's Max that launches herself at Chloe, and the punk laughs as they both hit the floor, wheezing and continuing the song, pushing the photographer away by a palm at her forehead.

"Don't want no mean girl lady, let's call her Sticky Vicki!!"

Victoria has launched herself on top of the pile and Rachel shrugs and joins in. Lena wonders for a moment if there's a chance tomorrow will be cancelled, and that's what it takes to shake the moment. As Rachel yanks the mic from Chloe and yells,

"HER DADDY TOLD HER HOW TO FIX CARS, MAYBE SHE COULD FIX ME!!"

Lena and Kara pull away from each other as as a couple more of Chloe and Rachel's employees head to the front, good-naturedly pulling them off of each other, and Lena thinks this is enough. It's enough that she's here in this moment with Kara, watching women who have built a life from scratch with efforts and the bonds of friendship and love, and she tilts her chin, wobbling a bit as she leaves money on the table and in an instant Kara is at her side, sliding the money back into her purse as she supports Lena's elbow. Kara leaves her own money on the table and they make their way out, giggling as they hear,

"Wanna girl with common sense Who's dripping in confidence DON'T WANNA DIE TO GET RICH BUT SHE LOVE FIFTY CENT!!--"

The shrieking laughing of karaoke dies out the moment they hit outside, and Kara pulls Lena to her front as she slips into a back alleyway beside the bar, Lena tucking into her front as she registers the DING~ of the bicycle's bell as it zooms by. It's not that late by any means, but there is a chill in the air as the breeze picks up around them. The slit in the length of her dress gives Lena some reprieve for how hot it was inside, and she heats up again when Kara unconsciously nuzzles a kiss to her forehead. The alleyways are the only shadowy part of the city's street, illuminated up by the full moon, and before Lena knows it, Kara is asking her a question.

"Do you trust me?"

She's nodding instinctively. It's Kara. The blonde had grabbed her jacket and she used that to tug around Lena, enveloping her in a blanket of warmth and the scent of her best friend. Lena's heart rate ratcheted up, not used to the easy way Kara seemed to hold her close. It had been a while since Kara had told her she was Supergirl, and while they'd hugged, Lena hadn't been in Supergirl's arms since before she had known. That changed now as Kara smiled at her, then gently pulled her into a bridal carry. Lena yelped, burying her face in Kara's neck in embarrassment.

"Shhh, I've got you."

"Kara, I can WALK!!"

"Mmmn, I like my women independent."

Lena pulled back to smack Kara playfully on her arm, then shrieked and held herself back close again. They were in the air, above the tree and cityline, and the moon was full and beautiful and so very big. It illuminated Kara's face as she continued to smile at her, and Lena couldn't understand how anyone could be so beautiful and kind and out of this world -- because Kara was.

"I didn't expect tonight to go how it did." Kara's voice was soft, and she was still looking at Lena, direct and open and with a look that Lena had seen before. Had seen so many times before, and she knew she had mirrored, whether they were alone or not. She mirrored it now, leaning into Kara's shoulder and taking solace in the solidness she knew Kara Danvers was. To her surprise, she could hear the kryptonian's heartbeat, and it was a speeding stutter.

"How did you expect tonight to go?"

In the silence that followed, Lena watched as Kara slowly pulled both of them steadily higher, away from the ground and the city, felt Kara's heartbeat start to speed even faster as Lena used the privacy of the moment to place her palm over Kara's pounding chest. The moon was so different to look at like this, a quiet observer of the earth as it reached out endlessly to touch everything with its light. Lena looked at Kara then, really looked at her as she had before Kara was a friend, before she had to hide her interest with respectable friendship. Kara's pupils were wide, and Lena felt supported in more ways than just the physical as she was shown the world as Kara saw it.

"I expected karaoke to shake you up even more than it did."

Lena let out a laugh, and Kara tilted her head to the side.

"Darling, I've heard Roxanne."

Kara snorted.

Then, a beat.

"I have a song for you, I'd like to share. If it's okay."

Lena could feel Kara's breath on her, a little shaky, and she smiled. Shifting a bit, Lena paused.

"Only if you let me step on you."

Kara's whole body flushed.

"Wh-What?"

The CEO couldn't help the fond smile she had for the reporter. Repositioning herself, Lena righted herself and stepped on Kara's feet, so now they were face to face. Even with the slight breeze around them, she felt safe and warm, Kara's body heat actively ramped up around her. The blonde's cheeks were red, and she shakily grinned as she pulled out her phone, Lena's hands seeking to hold onto Kara's shoulders.

"First met her on the west side of Cali Only took one look and girl you had me"

Lena could feel the harsh tremble of steel as Kara wrapped an arm around her waist, eyes bright and open as she gazes at Lena. They're so high up above everything that they're the only one that exists, and the brunette forgets that once upon a time she's ever been afraid of heights. She had been afraid of a lot of things before Kara, and even due to Kara, but never of Kara. She doesn't recognize the song, but she leans into the warmth of the blonde, bravely listening to what Kara wants her to hear.

"Driving down the Hollywood Hills through the Valley Coastline and even cruising Malibu"

A rumble happens, and suddenly Lena is listening to the silky croon of Kara Danvers singing to her so high up in the air, in front of the full moon and glowing from a soft determination as she holds her.

"There's nothing like that shotgun view Arm out the window, surfing old school"

On a whim Lena lets go of Kara's shoulders and spreads her arms out. She's painfully thinking about the Titanic, but Kara smiles as she sings and the superhero does a slow twirl in the air with Lena, slowly reaching out with her own wingspan and supporting Lena's hands, gently pressing their palms together as their fingers intertwine. Lena is watching as Kara's pupils grow, her body radiating an intense heat, and she presses closer, smiling as she listens to the blonde serenade her.

"Sunflowers black and yellow all over you One hand on the wheel the other holding you"

She's on fire. Her own heart is beating hard in relation to Kara and it's Kara who's in front of her who has always been there, who has been her anchor and her wings and her happiness. Slowly the blonde trails her hands back over Lena's forearms, her elbows, her back, holding her close and slowly twirling them, and it's Lena who reaches up and gently slides her hands into Kara's hair, tangling through and gently taking the back of Kara's neck and holding her. It's so intimate, she's wanted this for so long, and Lena knows, she's always known.

"Took a shot and knew I couldn't miss When you lean if for that first~ slow~ kiss~"

The song continues as Lena's heart pounds, and she can feel Kara steadfastly holding her, will always hold her, and she leans in, letting herself stop as she slowly closes her eyes and trusts in the moment and in Kara Zor-El.

Kara leans in.

"This is the moment that I reminisce. No matter where we are I can't help but remember~"

The song continues on perfectly, and Lena sighs against Kara, tasting her smile and feeling the fullness of her heart finally share the peace of perfection. She's surrounded by Kara, and for once, Lena is enough, has always been enough.

"I know you were the one for me~"

It's sweet. The present moment is so sweet and Lena holds Kara close, batting her eyes open and looking into vibrant blue. Kara's face is split into the largest smile she's ever seen her wear, and she's so beautiful, and Lena tells her, tells her how grateful and thankful and how much Kara means to her, and Lena can feel the purity of this moment as Kara holds her close and they spend countless other more moments just like this.

- - -

The next day during the Chasefield Art Gallery meeting, Victoria Chase and Lena Luthor bond over the success they've fought for being trust fund babies.

- - -

A/N - Dear Lord, what have I done? XD I hadn't cackled like this in a long time for creation -- Melissa Benoist, absolute happy birthday, thank you for your service in acting, may you have a long and happy life ahead of you <3 PS Dear Lord I remember seeing her in person at a Rose City Comic Con so long ago and I almost punched the arm off of my friend I got way too excited hyperventilating XD Violence is never the answer XD

Songs are -

Trust Fund Baby - Why Don't We Sundress - Austin Mahone

#dear lord #yes there are some weirdass references #it was time for the october cackles #XD #supercorp #melissa benoist #happy birthday #lena luthor #kara danvers #chloe price #rachel amber #victoria chase #max caulfield #chasefield #supercorptember #Ambehr Writes

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