#He's so tired guys. Someone put him out of his misery.

[sincerely-sofie]

*silently slides Twig/Ark content onto your dash* *scurries away into the night*

(Read the rest under the cut!)

[watchmegetobsessed]

MAKE HER REGRET IT

A/N: i was really in the mood for some smut and the neighbors trope popped into my head, so here we are!

WORD COUNT: 4.1k

WARNING: sexual content

SUMMARY: Harry, your freshly divorced, insanely hot neighbor needs your help: you have to pretend to be his new girlfriend when his ex-wife comes over, however your little stunt outdoes your expectations in a lot of ways.

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It's a basic instinct for you at this point to look up at the balcony whenever you’re approaching your apartment building. However you’re not looking at yours, but the one next to yours that belongs to one hot, freshly divorced guy who moved in next door about two months ago. 

You remember the morning the moving truck appeared and you knew someone was taking the vacant apartment beside yours. You just arrived back from your morning run and you jumped right into guesses about who it will be. Maybe someone your age? A girl you can go to yoga with? Or a sweet old lady you can have tea with on warm afternoons? Hopefully not a noisy family, because the walls are way too thin to endure the screaming of a child. 

Then you saw him. Carrying a heavy looking box up the stairs, a simple white shirt stretching on his torso, tattooed arms flexing under the weight of the box, you knew you were fucked the first time you saw Harry Styles. 

It took you no time to lurk over the next day and introduce yourself as his neighbor. 

“If you need suggestions for coffee spots around the neighborhood, I’m your person,” you smiled at him charmingly as he stood in his doorway in gray sweats and a black t-shirt, hair messy but so delicious, it was screaming for your fingers to run through his locks. 

“I will definitely keep that in mind. I can offer to fix anything around your apartment, I’m kind of a handyman,” he chuckled and your knees almost buckled hearing his creamy british accent. 

Fate played on your hand, because you kept running into each other so it didn’t take long for you to go out for a coffee run together and it was smooth sailing from then. You learned about how he just got divorced, his wife cheated on him and he found out on their second anniversary, tragic story and you still can’t quite understand how any woman could cheat on a man like him. You practically drool every time you catch a glimpse of him arriving back from a run in nothing but a pair of shorts, his tanned skin glistening from sweat. You definitely love to move out to the balcony around the time he can be expected to appear in the late afternoon, you watch him stretch and breathe heavily and the sight alone makes you break a sweat as well, but for a whole different reason. 

You’ve been trying to flirt with him every possible occasion, but you also make sure you don’t come off too pushy. After all he just got out of a marriage, it must be hard on him to recover from being cheated on. There’s also a slight age difference between the two of you, not that dramatic, but that eight years could easily be a deal breaker for him, so you’ve been playing it safe. 

When you’re lying in bed late at night and sleep is not coming to you, you can’t help but think of how he is on the other side of the wall, you imagine him sleeping without a shirt, maybe thinking about you the way you like to think of him… But it’s all just a fantasy, one you fancy very much. 

The door to his balcony is open so you know he is home, but he is not out. You take your time walking up the stairs, your legs are definitely tired from the run you just had and just when you reach your floor Harry’s front door swings open and you stop, watching him walk over to your door. He didn’t notice you, so you stay still and watch him take a deep breath as he lifts his fist up to knock, but then it falls back to his side and he shakes his head, stepping backwards before returning to his spot on your doormat and that’s when you decide to put him out of his misery. 

“Are you out of sugar, neighbor?” you ask, slowly walking towards him. Harry spins around with a stunned expression. 

“Oh, I didn’t–I didn’t see you.” You catch his gaze running down your body and legs and you’re thankful you decided to wear your shortest shorts. 

Playing with your keys in your hands, you finally reach him. 

“What’s up?”

“Um… I have a bit of a situation on my hands and you might be able to help me.”

Unlocking the door you push it in and gesture for him to follow you inside. 

“Do tell me.”

Rounding your way into the kitchen you step to the fridge to grab some water. Harry hesitantly follows you and stops by the kitchen counter. 

“So, I talked to Rory this morning,” he starts. You’ve heard enough about Rory, his ex wife to know that if she’s involved, it’s for sure something messy. “You know that painting in my living room?” You nod. “Well, she insists it’s hers, because a friend of hers painted it, but I was the one who paid for it. Whatever. She’s been trying to get me to give it to her and honestly I’m over it so I gave in. She is picking it up today.”

“When will the part where I can help come?”

“Right here,” he chuckles nervously. “We got into a fight, no surprise. She screamed at me over the phone and told me I’ll die alone because no one can put up with my shit.”

You need to force yourself to swallow the bitterness in your mouth. That woman sounds very much like the spawn of the devil, because who would say that to anyone? Especially to Harry? Aside from being insanely hot you’ve also learned just how kind, passionate and funny he is, basically the whole deal. Rory is the biggest loser in history for letting go of a man like him. 

“One thing followed the other and I just… Um, I told her that I have someone.”

The light bulb switches on in your mind, because you already know where this is heading. And you like it, very much. 

“I don’t know what got into me, but I told her she can meet my alleged girlfriend when she picks up the painting so she can see herself that I’m not the loser she thinks I am. And… as you might now, I do not have anyone…”

“You want me to be your fake girlfriend,” you finish for him, saving him from having to say it out loud. You can see just how awkward he is, having to ask you for such a thing. 

“Basically, yeah. Only if you don’t mind being part of this shitshow. I understand if you find it weird and I don’t expect you to–”

“When should I be over at yours?” you simply ask and watch his eyes go wide. 

“Y-You will do it?”

“Sure, sounds fun. Besides, I’m curious to see the stupidest woman on earth,” you add smirking and he finally lets out a relieved laugh as well. 

“Thank you so much, Y/N. Really, I owe you big time. She’ll be here in about two hours.”

“Perfect. I’ll be there.”

For the next two hours, you do everything you can to bring out the hottest version of yourself. Hair, makeup, dress, everything is on spot when you step out of your apartment and walk over to Harry’s door, ringing the bell. 

When the door swings open and Harry sees you his mouth hangs open, giving you that one last ego boost you need to be the best possible fake girlfriend ever. 

“Satisfied with your girlfriend?” you ask, tilting your head. 

“I-I uh–Yeah! I’m… yes.”

“Can I go inside then?” you ask with a chuckle and he steps aside in a hurry.

“Sorry, yeah come inside.”

“So what’s the plan?” you ask, walking into his living room and making yourself comfortable on the couch. Harry follows, but he takes the armchair across you and you can tell he is still struggling with not ogling you, especially your exposed legs and deep cleavage the dress teases him with. 

“I don’t… I have no idea, I have never done this before.”

“I have.”

“Really?”

“Just once, in college. One of my friends broke up with a girl who did not take it well and I was his fake girlfriend for a week to get her to stop harassing him. It worked.”

“Then… I trust you with anything.”

“What’s the goal?”

Harry opens his mouth, but then closes, as if he is embarrassed to say what’s on his mind. 

“Harry, say it. I’m happy to help with anything.”

“I want to make her regret it.”

“Regret what she said?”

“Regret everything,” he corrects and when he looks you in the eye a shiver runs down your spine from the determination that’s behind his green irises. 

“Consider it done,” you smile at him devilishly. 

At your suggestion you both take a shot to ease your nerves and make it easier to lie. It seems to loosen him just enough that he doesn’t look like he is about to attend an interrogation. 

And then the bell rings. 

“Show time,” you smile at him and as he walks over to the door you take your place on the couch again. 

You hear the door open and then a female voice mixes with Harry’s before the footsteps follow. Harry comes into view first, but then Rory steps out from behind him and you see the pure shock in her eyes when she finally spots you. 

“Oh, hi!” you smile at her almost disgustingly sweetly as you stand from the couch and walk closer. “You must be Rony. I’m Y/N.” You hold out a hand for her and watch as her mouth twitches when she hears you mess her name up. 

“Rory,” she sassily says and shakes your hand at last. “So you’re the… girlfriend.” The disgust in her tone is apparent, she is not even trying to hide it and it just makes it way more enjoyable. 

“Yes and you must be the cheating ex-wife.”

Harry coughs beside you, he was not expecting you to be this blunt, but the look on Rory’s face is priceless, because she can’t deny what she is. Moving closer to Harry you wrap an arm around his waist and though at first he freezes at your closeness, he is quick to recover and join in on the act, his arm finding your waist as well. 

“The painting is over there, just take it and let’s get over with it, alright?” Harry nods towards the painting he already took off the wall, now it’s leant against the console table that’s been underneath it. 

“You didn’t even wrap it?” she scoffs. How am I supposed to take it like this?”

“Rory, I’m not a fucking gallery. You wanted the painting, take it.”

“It’s gonna be ruined if I just put it into my car like this!” she argues. 

“That’s none of my business.”

“Harry, this is so not okay! I can’t–”

“Jesus, Rory fine! I think I have some bubble wrap,” he grunts, heading into his bedroom to find something to wrap the painting in, leaving the two of you alone.

Rory gives you another long, dirty look, as if you were the woman Harry cheated on her with when she is the culprit of this mess here. 

“So how long have you been together?” she then asks, pretending like she is just chit chatting, but you know she is eager to know everything about you.

“A little over a month now. You know, I wasn’t looking for anything serious, but Harry is just the perfect guy and I couldn’t stay away from him.”

“Oh, he is not that perfect, little girl.”

It’s obvious she tried to derogate you by calling you a little girl, she must be around the age of Harry, not more than thirty-six for sure, but she can’t find anything to use against you other than the fact that you’re clearly in your twenties. How mature. 

“I know. But everything he can give me makes it worth it. And the sex, ah!”

She gives you a puzzled look. You knew this would stir her up, Harry mentioned how distant they grew in the last few months and sex wasn’t the same anymore. Looking at the timeline she must have started her affair around that time and Harry couldn’t perform the way he otherwise could because she wasn’t open to him anymore. It was a vicious cycle, but you also know Rory is the kind of woman who must have humiliated him because of that. Harry never said, but you just feel that she criticized his sexual performance when she left him even if it all happened because of her. 

And now hearing that he is giving his all to another woman is definitely something that can drive her nuts. 

“Oh please, he sucks in bed,” she scoffs.

“Not with the right partner. He is so good, I honestly don’t know how you could let go of him.”

“He couldn’t make me cum for months!”

“That’s unfortunate. I get an orgasm basically after every meal. He is so good at it, honestly, it’s like he just wants to please me every possible moment. I mean, I can’t remember a morning when I didn’t wake up with his head between my legs, he loves quickies, I have to sanitize the kitchen counter like twice a day.” You let out a chuckle and just watch as her face grows redder while staring at the kitchen counter, raging jealousy swirling in her mind for sure. It’s clearer than daylight that she didn’t cheat on him because he wasn’t manly enough, this woman is simply a stupid loser who couldn’t appreciate what she had, maybe panicked that she can’t mess around with others and then simply chose to ruin everything. 

You’re more than happy to remind her what she lost. 

“Alright, this is all I got,” Harry emerges from the bedroom with some bubble wrap he probably had left from moving, but when he sees you and Rory staring each other down, he stops. But before he could speak up, you decide to push that knife into Rory’s chest as your final move. 

Stepping over to Harry you push yourself up against him, he drops the bubble wrap and his hands grab you by the waist instantly, though you see confusion in his eyes before you take his face in your hands and pull him closer, lips pressing against his hungrily. 

It’s not a sweet, shy first kiss. This is the perfect show off, messy, passionate, full of tongue and eagerness as you practically devour each other. For a bit you forget about the show you’re putting up and it’s your real desire you’ve been fighting for weeks now. Every time you try to pull back Harry just keeps demanding more and you happily give him what he wants. He bites into your bottom lip when one of his hands moves down to your ass, giving it a not-at-all shy squeeze, making you moan into the kiss. 

It feels like it takes forever for you to stop, when you open your eyes you’re met with Harry’s hungry eyes, his lips are slightly swollen and shiny from your kisses. 

And then you remember you’re not alone. 

“Oh, fuck you. Fuck you both!” Rory pops the bubble around you and when you turn to look at her, she is already grabbing the painting, not even bothering to wrap it. 

“It was nice to meet you!” you call after her.

“Fuck you!” she repeats, marching towards the door and you’re just smirking like an idiot, pleased with yourself for pissing her off so badly. 

Harry follows her to shut the door behind her and you let yourself bathe in the sweet victory you just earned. 

“This went amazing, right? She was so mad, oh my God!” you laugh, but your smile quickly disappears when you realize the serious look on Harry’s face as he is walking back towards you. 

Shit, maybe the kiss was too much. He didn’t want it and now he is pissed at you.

“Are you mad about the kiss? I-I’m sorry if it was too–”

The words die down on your lips when they crash against his again, his hand cupping the back of your head while the other returns straight to your ass, groping you so hard your whole body smashes against his. 

Your mouth opens in surprise and it gives him the chance to push his tongue against yours, he is demanding, rough and so much more raw than what you imagined him to be like. 

“What did you tell her?” he asks against your mouth, moving you around until the small of your back hits the kitchen counter. “What did you tell her that made her so pissed?” he demands, his hand already eagerly moving underneath your dress. He presses two fingers against your clothed clit, making your eyes roll into the back of your head. 

“I said, ah–I said I wake up every day with… your head between my legs, and… Oh fuck!” You’re losing your ability to speak your thoughts as his fingers start circling, the fabric of your underwear is so drenched, if you could think straight you might be embarrassed just how aroused he made you so fast. 

“And?” he urges you to continue, but at the same time he pushes your underwear to the side and pushes two fingers into you without warning, making you gasp so loud that people on the street must have heard it through the open balcony door. 

“A-and that you fuck me on the… the kitchen counter all the time.”

He curls his fingers inside you as he keeps talking.

“Then that’s what I’ll do to you now. Are you okay with that?” he asks and you nod eagerly as you hold onto his broad shoulders. 

The next moment he pulls his hand back and you whine, feeling empty all of a sudden, but then he lifts you up and makes you sit on the counter, he lowers himself and places your legs over his shoulders with careful, but confident moves. You grab onto his hair as he pushes his head between your thighs and his mouth meets your clit. 

“Oh, fuck! Harry!” you gasp out, tugging on his hair as he swirls his tongue against your swollen clit, his fingers teasing your hole again. Then they push into you and he sucks on your clit, making you see stars. 

You imagined him to be skilled, but whatever it is he is doing to you, it feels out of this world and now you know you weren’t wrong when you praised him that much to Rory before. 

You’re totally out of breath when he comes up, he kisses you and you can taste yourself on his tongue, your hands impatiently tug on his shirt to get rid of it. Soon the fabric lands on the tiled floor and you map out every inch of his hard chest with your palm and while you keep kissing like there’s no tomorrow, you faintly hear the zipper of his pants come undone. 

You look him in the eyes when you reach down and take his hard length into your hands and you can’t hold back a gasp when you realize just how big he is. 

“I know you can take it, baby,” he coos, kissing the corner of your mouth and you’re ready to take him right then and there, but he moves back, making you reach for him in panic. “Condom,” he says and you lean back onto your elbows with a sigh as you watch him disappear in his bedroom. You have just a few seconds you process that here you are, on top of Harry’s kitchen counter, with your dress bunched up around your waist, your drenched pussy on show, waiting to be fucked properly. You definitely did not expect this outcome when you woke up this morning, but you’re not complaining. 

Then Harry appears and he is walking over to you, completely naked, his dick in his hands as he rolls the condom on while moving and you bite into your bottom lip, hoping to remember this view until the end of time. 

When he reaches you again he simply curls his arms around your thighs and tugs on you so you get closer to the edge. His erection wedges between your wet folds and the tip pokes against your clit, making you clench around nothing. 

“I have to admit, I’ve been fantasizing about fucking you on this counter since the day I moved in and saw you for the first time.”

“Just on the counter?” you ask teasingly. 

“Every surface of this fucking apartment,” he admits with no remorse.

“Make a list then and I’m more than happy to do them all. But let’s tick the counter off first.”

“Don’t have to ask me twice.”

He reaches down and circles his thumb against your clit a bit before grabbing his dick by the base and dragging it up and down your cunt a few times before pushing the head in first, letting you adjust to his thickness first. When you claw at his chest he takes it as a sign to go deeper and he keeps pushing until you take his whole length, feeling fuller than ever before. 

“I want to go hard,” he breathes out, staying still for now.

“Go hard then. I can take it,” you assure him, though you do have doubts feeling just how stretched out you are now. 

“Of course you can. You’re my good girl,” he praises you and before you could get a word out, he pulls back and slams into you hard. 

There are moments when you actually think you’re about to burst, Harry did not joke when he said he wants to go hard, his thrusts are fast and rough and he makes sure he buries his whole length into you every time he pushes into you. At one point he pulls your legs over his shoulders and it allows him to reach a point in you no one has before and it pushes you towards the edge rapidly. The counter is painfully hard underneath you, but you somehow forget about the pain and only focus on how hard Harry is railing into you. His stamina is incredible, your body already feels like goo and you’re not even doing the actual work. 

“Harry, I’m so close,” you moan and his fingers dig deeper into your thighs at your words. 

“Come around my cock, baby. I wanna feel you squeeze me.”

You cry out his name again, a tear rolling down your cheek, because you’re so desperate to let go. Harry moves a hand to where you meet and his thumb returns to your clit and that’s what throws you over the edge. 

Your back arches and you squeeze around him uncontrollably, gasping for air as he ruthlessly keeps fucking into you. 

“That’s it, baby. You look so fucking beautiful, coming on my cock.”

You can’t stop moaning as you ride out your orgasm. The last waves are washing over your body when his movements fall out of rhythm, he slams into you hard and he sucks on his breath before moaning out your name over and over again, pushing into you a few more times as he comes. He falls forward, his face burying into your heaving chest as he tries to catch his breath along with you. There’s a long minute of silent bliss, his cock is still inside you, his lips peppering soft kisses onto the skin that’s exposed on your chest while you’re mindlessly playing with his hair. 

When he straightens up he pulls out of you, the empty feeling hitting you again. He carefully helps you off the counter, but keeps his arms around you, because when your feet hit the floor you wobble. 

Nuzzling your nose against his chest you take the cross pendant on his necklace between your teeth and pull back, looking him in the eyes. 

“Don’t do that, or we’re moving to the next place on the list.”

Giggling you let go of it and push yourself up to steal a kiss. 

“Give me some time to recover, but I’m all in to check out another place.”

“Jesus, I knew you’d be the death of me the moment I saw you,” he breathes out, before his mouth claims yours hungrily. 

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed and buy me a coffee if you want to support me!

[yandere-daydreams]

Title: Predetermined.

Written for the very lovely @mars-syndrome.

Pairing: Yandere!Azul x Reader (Twisted Wonderland).

Word Count: 3.0k.

TW: AFAB!Reader, Non///Con, Tentacle Sex, Unprotected Sex, Nonconsensual Drug Use, Implied Long-Term Stalking, and Unhealthy Relationships.

For everyone except you, the Monsto Lounge closed at ten.

It was an unofficial rule. Octavinelle freshmen would try to turn you away, but it was a mistake the Leech twins made sure to correct by the next morning, and everyone who’d ever worked more than a shift at the lounge knew better than to kick you out at the end of the night. That was why you were allowed to get away with something Azul would usually blacklist a customer for – staying balled up in the corner of a booth until midnight, your attention either on your nearly-dead phone or the untouched milkshake Floyd had wordlessly put in front of you when he came down to make one for himself, like a zookeeper offering a pound of meat to a caged animal. Riddle was absolutely going to kill you for staying out after curfew, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care about how many sugar cubes you’d have to add to your lemonade tomorrow or how many roses you’d have to paint. You were tempted to spend the night here, to beg Azul to let you use one of the unoccupied rooms and just sleep your misery away, but you’d end up collared for the next week if you didn’t come back at all. The price of being in the best dorm in NRC – you were at the mercy of the strictest dorm leader on campus.

Sometimes, when you couldn’t help yourself, you wished you’d been placed in Azul’s dorm instead. He’d let you get away with anything.

 With a heavy sigh, you pulled your legs into your chest and buried your face in your knees. You felt the bench shift under someone else’s weight and raised your head just enough to see Azul sitting in front of you. He’d already discarded his jacket and scarf, his glasses propped low on the nose of his bridge and his shirt more unbuttoned than he usually cared to keep it. He’d probably just wrapped up his own work for the night. You thought you remembered him mentioning a study guide, but it was hard to tell with Azul. He always had something up his sleeve – it was hard to keep track of which scheme he was on, today.

Silently, he slid a mug of something dark and murky in front of you, steam still rising from the top. Although Floyd’s offering went neglected, you took Azul’s up without protest, letting the warmth seep into your hands. You’d been through this a thousand times. You knew better than to ignore his little remedies, by now.

After you’d taken a healthy sip, he spoke. “Who is it now?”

“Muscle-tee guy, from Savanaclaw.” You groaned, shutting your eyes. “He promised we’d be exclusive, but apparently, he thought that included his roommate, and a girl from Pomefiore, and some idiot from Royal Swords. A boy from his class had to tell me – he had pictures and everything.”

Azul offered a skeptical look. “You’re crying over him?”

“I’m not crying!” You hadn’t cried over anyone since middle school. He should know that – he’d been there then, too, to watch you sob your eyes out when your newest crush tore up your confession letter before so much as opening it. You were a third-year, now. If you were going to cry, you were going to do it alone in your closet where no one would be able to judge you.

You were more tired than anything. You could already feel today starting to weigh on you, your shoulders held at an odd slant and your remaining energy dwindling further by the second. Reluctantly, you uncurled, letting your legs fall over Azul’s lap and taking another drink before going on. “I’m just so exhausted. It feels like it always ends like this. I let my guard down, meet a guy I really like, get him to really like me, and then I find out that that he’s an asshole and somehow, I’m the only one who didn’t know.” You groaned, shaking your head. “I don’t know how this keeps happening. Are all men this bad, or just the ones I choose to date?”

“Unfortunately, your taste is the only common factor.” You let out a dry laugh, shooting Azul a narrow glare. He only shrugged, as composed and as disinterested as always. “Honestly, it’s your own fault. How can you expect to find a quality product when you’re latching onto items you’ve only known for a few days?”

Another groan, this one louder than the first.  You really were tired – it was a struggle just to keep your eyes open. “I don’t sulk in your restaurant ‘cause I want to be lectured, y’know.”

“And I didn’t open a restaurant because I wanted people with pathetic love-lives to sulk in it.” It was his turn to sigh, now, to settle closer to you. A hand came to rest on your back, rubbing small circles into the space between your shoulder blades. He was never especially touchy – you’d caught him cringing after shaking hands with a business partner or being nudged by another clumsy student in an overcrowded hallway more than once – but you could tell he tried to an exception, for you. You appreciated the effort, no matter how much it apparently hurt him. “I know you don’t want to hear it, but it wouldn’t hurt you if stopped rushing into relationships with people you barely know. Taking your time might save you a little heartache.” He paused. You weren’t looking at him, but you could picture the thin frown playing over his lips, the way his eyes narrowed in concentration rather than anger (because when Azul was angry, hr only ever smiled). He was smart, but predictable. Maybe it was just because of how long you’d known each other, how long you’d spent standing at Azul’s side while he looked down on everyone else, but either way, you could read him like the back of your hand. You didn’t have to see him to know exactly what he was thinking. “Or, if you really have to rush into something, you could try starting a relationship with someone you actually know. It might not be as much fun, but it couldn’t be worse than—” He gestured to you, your hunched posture, your wrinkled uniform. “—this.”

You perked up, letting out an airy laugh. It was rare for Azul to hand out advice without asking for a healthy fee, so you tried to nod, to smile, to look like you weren’t on the verge of passing out and forcing him to carry you back to your dorm. “I… I’ll think about it. I’ll try.” And you would. You’d try, at least, like you always did when Azul pulled you aside and told you to stop embarrassing him with your week-long flings. “If I wait long enough, I might even be able to find someone like you, Azul.”

There was a long, silent lapse.

Then, Azul’s hand fell to the small of his back, and you felt your strength snap and give out. You thought, distantly, about batting his hand away, about teasing him for how uncharacteristically affectionate he was being tonight, but you just couldn’t seem to make yourself move, to keep yourself upright. You felt your body slump against Azul’s side, and without missing a beat, he caught you, wrapping an arm around your waist and letting out a shallow sigh.

“Right,” he muttered, as your eyes finally fell shut. You felt like you’d been hollowed out, sapped of something warm and vital and left to gently float into an unwelcome unconsciousness. You tried to scream, but your mouth wouldn’t open, your lips sealed and your tongue useless. You tried to wake up, but that only seemed to drag you down farther, to pull you that much deeper into that awful, exhausting fog.

“Maybe one day, love.”

~

You woke up to the feeling of something inside of you and cold water lapping against your skin.

In your drugged daze, the latter somehow seemed to take priority over the former. It wasn’t just cold, it was freezing, worse than the Coral Sea in the dead of winter, when the ice drifts blotted out the sun and a stray current alone could send you into hypothermic shock. It only came up to your waist, but you felt the chill run up your spine, spreading through your veins and turning your blood to ice. If you’d been able to move, you would’ve been shivering. If you’d been able to think clearly, you would’ve been more afraid.

But you could move, even if you couldn’t think. You managed to lift your hand, bringing it into your line of sight only to find a slick, pitch-black tentacle wrapped around your end, its suckers latched onto your skin and its dull point tangled around your fingers. You recognized it in an instant – Azul’s, down to the lilac-grey underside and the permeant compression marks etched into the tip, earned through countless hours of writing up contracts. You hadn’t him in his true form since you enrolled in NRC. You wondered what would be important enough for him to break his streak now.

Another wave of frigid water broke against your midriff, and you felt something quirk inside of you. It was a tight, bad feeling – a string of tension wound tight enough to coil in on itself, to ache and throb as your cunt stretched around something thick and awful and a soft, blunt head rubbed and flicked against your inner walls. Wait, that was right – something was inside of you, thrusting as it curled and twisted and thrashed. You felt it curve in on itself, the base rising to grind against your clit as it moved, and you bolted upward, taking a gasping breath. It didn’t stop you. The tentacles wrapped around both your wrists and draped over your legs weighed you down but offered no resistance as you straighten your back, as you panted and blinked and ran your hand over your stomach, half-expecting to feel a bump where it was stabbing into you. You didn’t find what you were looking for, though, or maybe you did, you couldn’t tell, your attention already moving on to the wading pool you were laying in, shallow but wide and full enough for the water to spill over the sides, and then the thing on top of you, your eyes eventually land on–

On Azul.

Azul.

Your mouth fell open, a plea for him to help you dying in your throat. He looked as strung-out as you felt; his hair pushed away from his face, giving you a perfect view of his half-lidded eyes, his parted lips, the dark blush painted across his cheeks. His hands were braced on either side of you, edging too near to your hips for comfort, and you were suddenly aware of just how close he was to you, his chest a breath from pressing into yours. Even that distance was a temporary luxury, gone as soon as your eyes met and he let out a hitched groan, falling forward until his face was buried in your neck and you couldn’t so much as imagine getting away from him.

Your hands flew to his shoulders, your legs thrashing weakly as you attempted to push him away, but now, now he chose to restrain you, his spare arms dragging yours down until they were pinned to your sides. Your legs were caught up in his tentacles, too; a pair wrapping around your thighs and spreading them apart, dragging you deeper into the water and leaving you unable to hold yourself up. His breath was as cold as the water, fanning over your skin and making the heat beginning to drip down the inside of your thighs that much more unbearable. You heard him whine, the noise pitchy and desperate, going on for seconds before he seemed to find the will to actually speak. You weren’t sure which would’ve been worse – hearing his voice in a place like this, or watching him abuse your body without so much as an apology.

“You’re tight.” There was a stilted inhale, a trembling groan. “I— Fuck, I knew you would be, but it’s like your body’s been waiting for this as long as I have. It’s like—” His voice gave out, a manic smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. “It’s like we were made for each other.”

He sounded so happy. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d seen him excited about something other than schemes and contracts and profit margins measured down to the last stray cent. Usually, the closest you got was a sense of smug condescension – a certain light in his eyes and a manic zeal in his grin. This was different. This was so, so much worse.

You felt his mouth latch onto your throat, pointed teeth nipping at the skin just above your jugular before burrowing into you, drawing enough blood to drip down your chest and tint the water pink. He wasn’t satisfied with a single mark, either; his attention falling lower, to the curve of your shoulder, then the vulnerable flesh just above your collarbone. As his concentration wavered, you were allowed to slump forward, but yet another tentacle found its way to your neck, wrapping loosely around your throat, applying just enough pressure to keep you upright. It reminded you of how Azul would correct your posture when he caught you hunching over your desk, or how he’d tell you to stand just a little closer to his side while he was talking to the other dorm leaders, to sit next to him rather than across the room while he was meeting with a student who spared anything more than a stray glance in your direction. He’d never been afraid to pose you. This was just an extension of that, really – a more honest version of the same bad habit.

The rough underside of the tentacle inside of you rubbed against the walls of your pussy, and you imagined digging your nails into his cheek, clawing at his eyes, kicking and thrashing and yelling until someone heard you, until Azul decided the risk wasn’t worth the reward, but you couldn’t bring yourself to so much as attempt to move, to fight against his bondage. It was all you could do to watch him from a distance, to force yourself to be vaguely aware of what he was doing to you. The tentacle inside of you fell into a steady rhythm, and Azul’s hand fell to your clit, clumsily circling the hypersensitive bundle of nerves. His inexperience was apparent, his usual air of confidence discarded in favor of seeking his pleasure and forcing the same misplaced bliss onto you. You didn’t resist, but you jerked away from his touch. If he noticed that you were trying to get away from him, though, if he could see your pained expression or grit teeth, he didn’t seem to care, to think of it as anything other than you bucking into his hand. He tilted his head back, his pale eyes flickering towards your face, a wide smile plastering itself across his lips. Slowly, joltingly, he pulled himself back to your height and before you could brace yourself, his lips were crashing into yours. Teeth scraped against teeth, his tongue pressed into yours, and you thought, through the daze, that this might’ve been his first kiss. You couldn’t remember him mentioning anything, ever telling you about a pretty girl or cute boy who’d caught his eye. In fact, you couldn’t remember him ever mentioning anything about love or romance at all.

Huh.

It made sense, once you took a step back.

You didn’t kiss back. Obviously, you didn’t kiss back. Azul didn’t seem to care. He was panting by the time he pulled away from you, his blush darker and his pupils blown out with lust. You felt the tentacle inside of you twitch, and thought for the first time that it might not be a tentacle at all but something too terrible to name. You were almost thankful when the tentacle around your neck slipped past your lips and forced your teeth apart, giving you something to think about aside from that awful, slick thing inside of you, aside from the revolting heat slowly beginning to curl and flicker in your core. The tapered tip brushed against the back of your throat and you gagged violently, the air hitching in your throat and your body lurching against his. Azul’s grin grew broader, his pace rougher. “You’re going to cum.” It wasn’t an order or a question, just an assessment, an observation. A prediction you could only hope wouldn’t come true. “That’s alright. That’s perfect. I want you to. I’ve waited so long to—”

His voice cut out with an airy groan. He pressed himself closer to you, his stare boring into skin and his lips ghosting over yours. You tried to turn away, to clench your eyes shut, but his hands came up, cupping your face and pulling you back to him. The tentacle assaulting your mouth jutted deeper, forcing you to open your eyes, to meet his. He was crying – you could see the tear tracks running down his cheeks, carving trails across his pale skin. He was smiling, wider than you’d ever seen him smile before.

“I tried to give you a chance.” He was muttering, now, the words barely audible and entirely deafening all at once. “I tried, but this is what you drove me to.” He rested his forehead against yours, drove his nails into your jaw. “This was the only way I could show you that we were made for each other.”

Made for each other. Made for each other.

The conviction in his voice was so steadfast that, maybe, in another scenario, you probably would’ve believed him.

A tight, searing heat washed over you. Your body went rigid, tensing up as your vision burnt white and your cunt clenched around his tentacle. At the same time, something burst open inside of you, filling you with something hot and horrible and so much worse than the water you were still submerged in, the water you wished would’ve drowned you minutes ago. Rather than pull back, you felt Azul draw closer, wind around you tighter, but you didn’t care. You couldn’t.

Going limp, you leaned against the edge of the pool and closed your eyes, letting your mind drift far, far away. Azul let you, his hands falling away but his tentacles persisting with their grinding and groping and invading. It didn’t matter. It was like Azul said – you were made for each other, right?

You could only wonder how long ago he’d decided that.

[sad-girl-hours23]

I Know The Last Page So Well, I Can't Read The First

For the @tevanadvent2024 Day One: Beginnings

Pairing: Buck/Tommy

Rating: G

I’m so sick of endings.

Lately, Tommy’s life has been nothing but endings. 

First, his relationship with Evan. (Tommy’s not the forever guy, he knows that story all too well).

Then, his favorite show on Netflix was cancelled. Again. Why he bothers to get invested anymore is beyond him. 

He nearly cried in the middle of a Baskin-Robbins when he found out his favorite flavor of ice cream had been put in the deep freeze. The girl behind the counter looked far too concerned for his well-being.

It was a sad state of affairs.

He heard from Lucy that Eddie’s moving to Texas. It stings, even if he’d all but left their friendship in limbo these past few months.

And then…his dad. Tommy’s never experienced a loss so fraught with complications and contradictions.

It’s his last day of bereavement leave and he’s eating alone at his favorite restaurant, alongside what feels like half of Los Angeles. He’s tucked away in a booth far larger than is appropriate for his sad reservation of one, but with the specters of his past, he’s not alone.

He’s picking at mushrooms on his pizza when somebody slides into the booth.

He wonders briefly if this marks the ending of his sanity. 

As if the sheer power of his wanting has conjured an apparition of the man he loves.

Evan doesn’t stop sliding until their sides are pressed together. He’s here; real, and warm, beside him.

“Evan, what are you —”

Evan ducks his head. “I heard about your dad. I’m sorry.”

Tommy nods. “Thank you. I assume Lucy told you.”

“Yeah, but I wish you had.”

“I didn’t think, I mean, I don’t get to —”

Evan places his hand over Tommy’s. “But you do, Tommy. I would have been there for you. You still don’t get it do you?”

Tommy tries to suppress the embers of hope burning within him, they’ll only end in smoke and ash. “Get what?”

“I —” Evan’s phone chimes with a text and he looks towards the main room. “Look…can we talk later?”

Tommy hesitates. He should make a clean break, he knows. He won’t have the strength to walk away a second time. He forces a smile. “Of course. I’m sure you have someone to get back to. You shouldn’t waste your time with me and my misery.” 

“Well you know what they say about misery.”

Before Tommy can reply, Eddie’s sliding into the booth on his other side, followed by Howie, Hen, and Bobby. 

“What —”

Tears well up in his eyes as Hen takes his hand in hers. He can’t find it in him to be ashamed when he sobs as Eddie puts his arm around his shoulders and squeezes, says, “we got you, man.” 

Howie grins. “Bet no one was expecting dinner and a show.”

“Chim,” the rest of them groan. Tommy just laughs. He’s missed this, missed them. He’s missed the person he is with them.

They all express their condolences and catch him up on their lives when he asks, as if no time has passed at all. 

He finds out Evan’s been baking, and knows they have so much to unpack when they’re finally alone.

Evan lays his head on Tommy’s shoulder. It shouldn’t be this easy, he thinks. 

He half expects Bobby or Hen to yell at him, to make him face the mess he’s made of his and Evan’s lives. He almost wants them to. But when he dares to look, they’re both smiling. It cracks his heart right down the middle.

He’s starting to think he doesn’t know this story half as well as he thought.

And Tommy, he’s so tired of endings, and so skeptical of beginnings, and so very terrified of the feelings starting to form in his chest. Everything ends. But if this is the middle of his story, if the bulk of his life’s pages get to be like this, it will have been worthwhile.

Also on AO3

[aezuria]

*ੈ✎ two lovers entwined, pass me by

"and heaven knows i'm miserable now" —the smiths

content: leo valdez x roman! reader

╰┈▸ back cover: what if leo gets a little too tired of being the seventh wheel, wait- ninth wheel? (and meets a girl who is a d1 hater)

╰┈▸ warnings: leo and yn dont hate hate couples its a joke okay (unless its not a joke anymore pls give them love-) cursing, maybe ooc reyna? NOT canon compliant, a bit of angst but overall its silly

librarian's annotations: this is now my fav work if u guys dont like it then dont tell me pls 😣

leo was tired. sick and tired of everyone's public displays of affection! can they at least have the decency to romance each other in the privacy of their own rooms!? he did not build ten of them for no reason! there was absolutely no way they needed to suck face at the dining table. like, right in front of his food!?

okay, he was being a bit dramatic. the most everyone was willing to do in public was hold hands. and maybe share a kiss. but that was a kiss too much! and wasn't reyna supposed to off doing (cool) praetor shit!? ever since her and jason made up, leo has not been able to catch a break! can they stop eyefucking each other already!? (they are simply staring into one another's eyes)

"guys." leo swept his gaze over the dining table. he was seated at the end, giving him an unwarranted view of everyone paired up. apparently, love is also deaf, since no one turned their head to him.

"guys!" leo raised his voice. would he be heard over the sound of their unspoken conversations? heads finally spun to look at him, as if they just remembered he was there.

"can you guys like, eat? or do this-" he gestured widely. "elsewhere? and by elsewhere i mean not in front of me."

they all managed to give him the exact same look that was a mix of embarrassment at being called out, and something that said "poor leo, he's so single!" oh come on! jason made it even worse by putting a—what was supposed to be—comforting hand on his arm. "it's okay, leo. i'm sure you'll find someone one day."

this was not funny at all. and leo would know; he's the funniest guy ever! he snatched his arm away with an utterly aghast expression. "ew! get your pity off of me!" he shuddered, playing up the theatrics and wiped his forearm over jason, giving him his couple-cooties back.

the blond reeled back, laughing at his best friend's antics. "what was that for!?"

"don't act like you don't know!" he sneered accusingly.

nights were always the worst for leo. they were quiet, and not the calm, peaceful quiet when he would stay out and watch the sun set, the time before his happiness came to an end. it was an empty quiet, devoid of the laughter he caused, his thoughts become louder to fill up the silence.

(it was night when his mother died, when he had burned down the warehouse. when he had killed her. it was night when he awoke to the front door slamming, the sounds of drunken yells and glass splintering were backing instruments in an interlude of impending misery as he waits for the sun to shine once again. it was night when he ran away, with nothing more than his heavy heart and some left over change.)

leo's thoughts ran rampant with the feelings he kept in a glass box. always there, always seen, very fragile yet rarely opened. sometimes he would shake it a little too hard, and it would come crashing down like a bottle of alcohol, spilling insecurities instead of wine.

tonight was one of those times.

he doesn't know what brought it on. well, he lied; it was the sight of everyone at dinner, looking happy and complete without him. but he was used to it. it shouldn't have bothered him this much. but the more he let it stew, the more it hurt. leo loved his friends, sure, but he couldn't help but have a little bit of resentment at how easy it was for them to make up, make out. hell, even piper got a girlfriend, a mortal one at that! between traveling and fighting monsters, he didn't even know that was possible. what about him was so unlovable?

as he tossed and turned to shake off the voices in his head, he knew that this would be another sleepless night.

today was going to be a good day; leo could feel it in his gut. the skies were clear, there were no monsters coming to wake them up, and the engine was running smoothly. he had time to work on his little projects all day today! he hummed a tune as he walked to the engine room, or his work room for today, and spun a wrench in his hand. maybe he had a little skip to his saunter, a pep in his step. something about today was just so-

his gut lied to him. (maybe he was hungry?) the wrench clattered to the ground as he came to an abrupt stop. "oh. my. gods." leo paused between every word to further emphasize his disdain.

the sight was scandalous, completely and irrevocably scandalous. like, i-need-to-wash-my-brain-out scandalous. and leo was so not being dramatic this time.

percy and annabeth flinched away from each other in a half-asleep fumble, trying to act as if they had not just been caressing each other's bodies mere moments ago. (okay, maybe he was being dramatic again) this wasn't even a romantic place to do that! and leo would know, he's such a romantic guy. what was the purpose of his hard work of making bedrooms if they were just going to sneak off and desecrate his beloved engine room!?

"frank catching you two once wasn't enough?" leo huffed and bent down to pick up his dropped tool. "now i have to see the two of you fraternizing in my domain!?"

"that's not even the proper word-" annabeth had tried to hold back, but the urge to correct him was too much.

"i don't care! shoo!"

leo was so done. his perfect day had been ruined first thing in the morning! now it was late, he was tired, and he was finally heading back to his room to get some much needed rest after holing himself up all day working on random knick-knacks. a soft noise caught his attention. it was dim, the lights low since him and annabeth wanted to save electricity. he felt the familiar dread in his stomach. there was absolutely no way this could be happening.

"we shouldn't do this here..." wait, was that reyna?

"i know.. but i'm gonna miss you when you leave." no. no. NO. the direction the two very very familiar voices were coming from was right in front of the hallway to his bedroom. "please?"

leo was torn. he didn't want to walk in on them, but he couldn't spend another night in the engine room! he wanted his comfy bed right now!

he slapped a hand over his eyes and stepped heavily on the wooden floorboards, giving them a much needed warning. he heard the sound of fabric and shuffling, a satisfied smirk gracing his face.

"are you guys decent?" leo asked, still squeezing his eyes shut under his hand.

jason huffed, no doubt red in the face. "it's not like we weren't in the first place."

leo dared to open his eyes, finding that not only was his face red, but there were bruises starting to dapple his neck. ew. he did not want to think about how that came to be. "uh huh. well go and canoodle somewhere not in front of my room, please and thank you."

"canoodle?"

"reyna i told you, i don't wanna go!" you grumbled akin to a toddler, despite your status as the centurion of the first cohort. you took off your armor, dropping it to the ground haphazardly. "i don't need to see you and mister perfect canoodling in front of me!"

the praetor snorted and shook her head. "'canoodling?' you're the second person i've heard use that word this week." she paused, a thoughtful expression passing over her face. "you guys would get along well, i think. anyways, i'm not asking as a friend, i'm ordering you as praetor."

oh that was so unbelievably low! "what!? reynaa!" you stretched out the end of her name in an embarrassingly childish whine. good thing it was just the two of you here, otherwise no one would let you live it down. "i thought they were supposed to be going soon anyway!?"

"you heard me. and no, they're staying for a couple more nights. something about the engine being broken again?" she shrugged, an amused glimmer breaking through her usually serious front. "besides, we have a lot to discuss about the whole gaea thing, and who better to bring than you? you're my right hand woman."

you tried to hide a smile at her words, but sweet-talk always won you over. "ugh, fine. i guess i'll go."

something was up. you knew that from the moment she asked you to "wear something other than purple for once." who even owned anything but purple!? heck, you didn't even know reyna had different clothes outside of uniform! was that even allowed? you'd only ever seen her wear the same shirt as you, and a toga if the event accounted for it.

you sifted through your wardrobe, digging through masses of violet and coming up blank. oh well, guess its uniform time again. not that you minded all that much.

"you are changing." reyna shook her head, giving you a disappointed look only a mother could offer. this wasn't even a big deal! what was so wrong with your shirt? you rather liked purple!

"but why!? what better way to represent rome than this?" you gestured to your clothing. "aren't we talking business? also this is like the only shirt i have."

"because-"

"you just wanna look all pretty for your boyfriend." you cut her off, faking a gag. "doesn't mean i have to look pretty."

her shoulders tensed and you drew back, already anticipating her near-fatal blow.

"reyna? you know i was just kidding- OW!"

"-wait this is so my color actually." you checked yourself in her mirror. who knew reyna had fashion sense? although not much was required for a simple shirt and jeans.

she nodded and got to her feet. "suits you well. consider it my apology."

"huh? apology for what? for hitting me? aww you're so-"

"no. for what's about to happen to you." a solemn expression took over her face. she was well aware of your exaggerated hatred for couples. maybe you were just a bitter single, but she wasn't about to tell you that. she hoped you would soon be taken (not literally) and stop harassing her for her romantic escapades.

that was ominous. should you be scared for your life? "what the hell does that even mean?"

oh. now you knew exactly what it meant. as the two of you boarded the argo ii, she was immediately swept into a bone-crushing hug by jason, as if he couldn't bear to let her go ever again. you almost threw up at the sight. how could your beloved best friend be reduced to a lovesick schoolgirl at the touch of a man!? a man that had forgotten her! (and remembered, and apologized, and confessed his love- okay, you were starting to see her side quite clearly)

you turned your head away entirely, not wanting to see all that. but everywhere you looked, a new couple seemed to pop up. it was like your worst nightmare come to life. percy and annabeth? piper and some girl? frank and hazel? holding hands? since when were they a thing!? sweet hazel and shy frank? they were—admittedly—adorable, but still!

your only respite was leo looking just as exasperated as you. he must have it way worse; he had to live here with all of them. you shuddered. you were glad you weren't in his place right now.

you stood awkwardly to the side as they reunited. do they do this all the time? and everyone's just cool with it? maybe they can relate, with their taken-ness and all. ugh.

leo peeked at you curiously from the corner of his eye. your expression was as clear as day, face scrunched up in disdain as he traced your gaze to the practically infinite amount of couples onboard. he nodded internally, knowing exactly how you were feeling. but hey, he couldn't just let a pretty girl like you stay unhappy on his ship, not if he could help it!

"hey there," leo said smoothly, or as smooth as he could be after he had almost tripped on the crack between the floorboards. "i'm leo."

finally! someone had the decency to entertain you. "i know you! you're the guy that made octavian throw a hissy fit for firing at new rome!" shit, was that a weird thing to say for a first time interaction? too late now.

the brunette cringed at the mention of his possession. "uh, that's not what most people know me by, but yeah..?"

"oh? and what do most people know you by?" consider yourself intrigued.

leo perked up at your question, having been given an amazing opportunity to charm you. "well obviously it's my rugged good looks, and ingenious inventions, and-"

"we're starting dinner now!" jason called out from the dining table, before recieving an elbow to the gut from reyna and a harsh whisper from piper.

you were lost in your thoughts, zoning out as everyone spoke around you. leo's actually kinda... a tiny part of you popped the idea into your head. he was kinda, indeed. gods, i hate couples. a much larger portion of your mind seemed to yell. do you, or do you just hate being single? you asked yourself. huh. well it's probably-

a cough to your left caught your attention. it was leo. when his brown eyes met yours, you couldn't see a trace of that same boy who was described a traitor and a freak for firing at new rome. maybe something really did possess him.

"wanna know how i built this ship?" he asked excitedly. it was clear that the argo ii was his pride and joy.

"yeah!" you grinned, his cheerfulness rubbing off on you. who cares if he fired on new rome anymore? that was so last tuesday.

"so first, i had this cool metal dragon..."

unbeknownst to you, annabeth whispered across the table to reyna. "i think it's working?"

so, the dinner wasn't anything about business. you did learn a ton from leo though! that was business enough wasn't it? still, you couldn't help the pang of guilt that came with not getting anything work-related done. it was practically in your genes as a roman.

"y/n! you should stay the night!" hazel encouraged from the sofa across you. she was met with choruses of yeahs! and you shoulds! by the other girls, including reyna.

"oh!" you laughed awkwardly, trying to think of a way to politely turn them down. as much as you would love to stay and get to know them, you had a job to do. even if that job was getting all the legionnaires in your cohort to bed by curfew. (like seriously, the amount of times you've had to reel in couples you caught sneaking out was crazy. maybe that's where your hatred came from.) "i'd love to, but i have... centurion duties and all that."

"but reyna has praetor duties and she's staying," annabeth argued. her gray eyes shone with an intensity you only saw on the battlefield. what was going on?

that was new information to you. "you're staying?" you questioned your friend, who looked away with a hint of embarrassment.

"jason's leaving soon," she coughed. after being apart for so long, you could hardly blame her for wanting a little more time with him. "but that's besides the point. you should stay."

you crossed your arms, trying to come up with another excuse. "uh, i don't have clothes to change into?" it was a weak attempt, but you hoped it would work.

"i can lend you some," hazel piped up from the side, obviously eager to make you stay.

aw. she was always so nice. but you had a feeling there was an underlying motive you just couldn't figure out.

you tried again. "i don't think there's a spare room for me to sleep in."

"there's an empty one by leo," piper pointed out.

well, that was it. they refuted all your claims and left you no choice but to stay. you heaved a sigh and relented. "fine."

you weren't sure how it happened, but you ended up with leo again. so much for girls night. but you couldn't complain, leo was good company. he never let the silence stew between you guys for too long, always switching between one topic to the next, until somehow, you were both talking shit about your pathetic love lives and the insufferable ones of those around you.

"you wouldn't believe how many times i've caught these people! i swear, they can never keep it in their pants for more than two seconds! it's like, trauma at this point!" you rolled your eyes, absolutely abhorring the new legionnaires in your cohort.

leo laughed, a sound that made your heart skip a beat. he looked over his shoulder, before leaning in as if telling you a secret. "like two days ago, i caught jason and reyna making out! he had hickies all over his neck!"

you gasped at the scandalous behavior of the two most serious people you knew. "what!? no way..."

the curly-haired boy nodded vehemently. "yes way! it was so gross."

eventually, it was time for the both of you to say your goodnights. leo led you to your room, giving you a cheeky wink before he retreated into his own. you shut the door, and threw yourself into bed.

maybe it was the unfamiliar environment, maybe it was the fact that you were way up in the air, or maybe it was leo running circles around your mind. whatever the reason was, you couldn't sleep. or maybe you chose not to, just to have an excuse to see the stars. the time when they were out was the only time you'd allow yourself a break.

you crept out of the room, careful not to make noise as you made your way out onto the deck. the air was crisp, a gentle bite against your skin. it seemed that the god of the sky was on your side tonight, for the clouds were nowhere to be seen, only the full moon of artemis and the familiar stars shone. you made yourself comfy on the floor, leaning back against the railing as you took a deep breath.

it would be another night of no sleep for leo, that much he could tell. he groaned into his pillow. he couldn't tell if it was the new crush already forming on you, or his angst from a few days before. regardless, his nervous energy made him get up and pace the room, fidgeting with a screw he found on the floor. with footsteps light, he traveled the small area, before something told him to get some fresh air. he obliged. it was better than being in his stuffy room.

as he went up the stairs to the upper level, he caught sight of a figure in the distance. leo's curiosity spiked. he walked closer, the image of you coming into view. your eyes locked on his, a soft smile gracing your face at seeing him. "hey."

"hey." leo dipped his head in greeting, and sat down beside you. "mind if i sit here?"

you shook your head and returned your gaze to the starry night sky, a comfortable silence settling between you two, with only the tapping of leo's fingers against the floor filling the air. it was different, being alone with him. he seemed different. he was quieter, more mellow.

"i hate nights." leo blurted out, breaking the peace you two had shared.

"really?" you asked softly. he braced himself with the condescending remark that was sure to come after, but it never came. instead he received a genuine interest from you. "why's that?"

the boy felt his heart beat a little faster. was he really going to tell you, a girl he barely knew, his whole life story? perhaps it was the late hour that made him want to spill everything out. or the feeling that stirred whenever he looked at you, like magnets attracting. and so he did.

and you listened without any interruption, never followed up with that remark he was waiting for, never gave him the pity he hated. instead, you followed up with your own story.

"i love nights. for me, it's the only time i really feel free. when everyone else is asleep, and it's just you and the stars. away from all the rules." you looked up. they seemed so close from here, way up in the floating ship. they twinkled like glitter, flashing heys and hellos and nice to see you agains. it was beautiful.

leo admired you the way you did the stars. they reflected off your eyes and made your irises shine, the same way fire casted a diffused glow on everything around it. maybe nights weren't so bad after all, if every one of them would be spent with you.

and when you leaned against him to rest your head on his shoulder, whispering secrets into his ear? oh, caligula would have blushed. (leo knows he sure did)

"operation get leo a girlfriend, complete!"

"i thought we were calling it operation get y/n a boyfriend?"

"whatever. operation leoy/n is a success!"

"...you know we can hear you guys, right?"

[st-el-la-luna]

Call of the Valley {Call of Duty x Reader/Stardew Valley AU｝

Prologue: Grey

➔ gn!reader ("you"/"your" pronouns used), thoughts of violence, mentions of death

no character introductions yet, just some world building. unedited

Series masterlist!

next

997 words

Grey walls. Grey ceilings. Grey floors. Grey desks. 

Everywhere you look is grey. From the meticulously lined cubicles to the desks lacking any personalization. From the uncomfortable chairs to the equally as uncomfortably sticky floors. From the company provided coffee mug to the company provided calendar. From your coworker's outfit (you swear that sweater used to be blue) to the contents of your lunch. 

It’s all grey. 

You sigh as you push around the mushy overcooked rice on your desk before you. In the silence of the office, you might as well have fired a gun, the sound a stark contrast to the usual deadness. The only sounds typical of this purgatory you call work are the tap-tap-tapping of keys and the clicking of mouses. Plus, the occasional beep of the microwave, or slam of the fridge door (you swear that fridge has been here longer than any employee. The way the lightbulb buzzes when you open the door sounds like a cry for help. A plea for you to end its decades-long misery. You, of course, don’t. If you must suffer, then so too must the fridge). 

Someone clears their throat from the entry of your cubicle. You turn away from your sad little lunch to find your sad little supervisor. Who, surprise, surprise, is dressed in, you guessed it, even more grey. 

“Something the matter?” she asks you with a smile that makes you want to use your cheap plastic fork to carve out her eyes. “I could have sworn I heard something.” 

“Yeah, sorry,” you try for a smile in return, not sure why you bother considering you hate her guts as much as she hates yours. “I’m just... tired.” 

“Well, tired or not, you know better than to bring that kind of attitude to the workplace. Big smiles, remember? The atmosphere matters you know!” 

“Right, yeah,” you nod, barely able to stop yourself from rolling your eyes. “Big smiles.” 

“Come on, let’s see it,” your supervisor says, tapping the sign on your cubicle wall *Smile, you’re with Joja!* You put on a smile which she returns with a patronizing scrunch of her nose, talking to you like one would an unruly child. “There, that wasn’t that hard now, was it?” 

It wouldn’t be too hard to use my stapler to knock your teeth in, you bitch. It’d only take a couple of hits... All the red would really brighten this place up... Ever heard of colour theory? 

“Yeah,” you smile. “Not that hard.” 

Your computer beeps. Your lunch break is over. You haven’t touched your food. 

Your supervisor's smile widens. The brown-nosing corporate shill that she is. “Well, you’d better get back to it... And try to do better this afternoon. Your numbers have been trailing all morning. I’d hate to have to write you up.” 

“Yeah,” you say as you drop your food into the rubbish. “I’m sure.” 

Your computer goes off again, demanding your attention. Your supervisor stands there for a moment longer than she needs to, as if checking that you’re really going to work, then hums, pleased, and walks away. 

It’s going to be a long day...  

But hey, look on the bright side, you won’t be doing this forever. 

One day you’ll die. 

Die... The thought echoes in your head for a bit. Die... Die... 

Your gaze falls to the drawer of your desk where the letter from your late great-uncle sits, waiting to be opened. You didn’t know the guy much, the family didn’t really talk about him, and he never came to any gatherings. But he had no kids and, well... No one really. He’d been thrilled when you had expressed interest in enlisting in your early teens. He taught you all the tricks of the trade and then some. 

He was less thrilled when you told him you’d changed your mind. 

It really wasn’t that shocking news. He’d kept talking on and on about pulling some strings, using his connections, but it’s just... not what you wanted anymore. You weren’t a kid anymore and well, you had to be realistic. 

Besides, they didn’t want you to enlist. You’d tried and well... While you passed the physical tests fine and were more than smart enough to work in intelligence or as a bomb tech, your psychological tests were... Less than stellar. Which was difficult to explain to a man who, despite having watched countless of his friends die and witness atrocities you could never fathom, thought that mental illness was a sham created by the youth to get out of doing real work. 

It’s not like you’d caused his heart attack. He was already sick. And all the smoking and drinking from his days on active duty surely didn’t help. He got himself too worked up over something small, and well... His heart just couldn’t take any more of it. 

Speaking of being unable to take anymore... you can hear your supervisor coming back around. You look between your monitor and the desk drawer. Monitor. Drawer. Monitor. Drawer. Monitor. Drawer. Monitor... 

“I’m sorry, but I’m going to have to write you up. Just know this isn’t-” 

“I quit.” 

And, just like that, you grab your few personal belongings and shove past her to the door, manilla envelope clutched in your hand.  

She sputters something behind you, makes a move to grab your wrist. You dodge. 

“You can’t be serious,” she says. “You... You can’t quit now! It’s the busiest time of the year!” 

“I just did... Oh, and Stacy?” 

“Yes?” she asks, almost hopeful. 

“You’re a right bitch. Just wanted to let you know.” 

Her entire face goes red as her cheeks puff out. “You... I... Wh...” 

You leave her there to her aneurysm, walking into the elevator and letting the doors close behind you. 

You lean your head back against the grey wall, resting your weight against the railing. You glance at the envelope in your hand. 

God... Please don’t let this be a mistake.  

please comment and reblog to support my writing! asks are always open! Literally nothing inspires me to write more!

who should we meet first and how?

taglist: @tooloudarts @cadotoast @elaineiswithyou-blog @thigh-o-saur

Masterlist!

[mari-the-bimbo]

your last hc with dorm mate geto has me crying

can we expect part 2?

Dorm mate Geto: Just friends pt. 2

A/N: I put ya’ll through misery for long enough 😂 So here you go, enjoy! 💗💗

Entering the dorm felt darker these days. It’s been a week since the talk with Geto, and you’ve been avoiding him since, spending most of your evenings in the uni library. And unlike the usual Geto who would’ve sought you out by now, he avoided you too, fuelling your worry that he never cared anyway.

As your entered the dorm, you noticed the small yellow light emitting from the kitchen. It couldn’t be Gojo, as he doesn’t know how to cook, so it could only be the raven haired man himself.

You quietly made your way past the kitchen to the corridor leading to the bedroom, not creating any noise that’d raise attention for him.

“So friends don’t even say hi now? That’s new”

You stopped in your tracks at his snarky comment. And although that wasn’t new for Geto, it lacked the teasing element his remarks usually had.

You sigh, deciding not to pay any attention to it, “sorry I’m tired” you muttered an excuse to keep the peace, but you should’ve known better.

“Tired from what? Avoiding me?” He spoke, still not looking up from the drink he was stirring. It was always intimidating when he spoke like this, because despite his sharp words, he kept his same calm tone, making him unpredictable.

You roll your eyes, frustrated from the audacity of the same man who broke your heart first.

“Don’t roll your eyes at me” he scolds half heartedly with a frustrated sigh.

You ignore his latest comment “You’ve been avoiding me too, so I don’t know why you’re acting so butthurt” you hiss.

“You told me to stay away from you, I’m simply respecting that” he replies.

You furrow your eyebrows, confused at how he managed to twist your words when you made it so clear. “I-“

“Is there someone else y/n?”

“What do you mean?” You ask.

He pauses before forming his sentence, maybe because he was scared of the answer. “I mean.. is there another guy in the picture? Someone you like better?” he said, voice almost cracking.

“No” you reply.

He nods his head slowly, almost as if he’s trying to process what you just said.

“Then why did you reject me so harshly?”

You stand dumbfounded again. Reject him? Is he forgetting how he was a two faced man who was flirting with other girls?

“Reject you? Have you ever considered what you did to me?” You raise your voice, but your voice actually breaks unlike his.

Now it was Geto’s turn to stand dumbfounded. His face marked with confusion and anxiety, dark hair strands framing his face adding to his dishevelled look. He seemed unable to recall what he did wrong, you almost felt bad. Gosh, what a waste of time, you should’ve never even stopped to listen.

You simply shake your head before turning around to leave, until you’re stopped by a large hand enveloping yours.

“Get off me” you snap.

He didn’t react to your demand. Instead his dark eyes bore holes into the back of your head. He silently pulls you closer by the hand and you struggle to fight against his strong grip.

“What’s wrong doll? Come here and tell me” he says softly.

His cold facade slips and he came back to his usual self, always so soft when it comes to you. You feel your heartbeat increase at his invitation with sweet words and his large warm hands. And even though he broke your heart, some part of you wanted to believe he does care about you.

He keeps pulling you backwards towards him until your back finally hit his muscular chest. You try to push away but his large hands grip your much daintier shoulders to turn you to face him.

“What’s going on between us doll? Why won’t you tell me?” He pleads, you can tell he’s growing desperate by his grip on your shoulders.

He could he be this stupid? How could he act like you caused this when he was the one who didn’t like you back, the one that led you on? How are you in the wrong for feeling hurt?

The thoughts turned into despair, despair turned into angry tears welling up in your eyes, you tried to blink the tears away but Geto caught it with his thumb. You quickly recoil from his touch making him sigh, you turn away from him to avoid his dark prying eyes.

“Why don’t you like me?” You finally ask through quiet sobs, “why pretend you like me when you flirt with prettier girls at parties?”

You watch Geto’s face turn into one of despair himself, before slowly shaking his head. “No no y/n it’s not like that, it’s because I th-“

“Oh of course it’s not like that Geto! You just fuck around with other girls for community service right?” You say sarcastically through the tears, resentment and heartbreak mixing together. You couldn’t even get yourself to stop.

“No y/n you’re not listening to me it’s-“

You watch his brows furrow in annoyance, you wondered if his patience was running thin, but you knew he’d never take it out on you.

“What excuse could you possibly have? You’re so full of yourself that’s why you like leading me on while having other girls and-“

“It’s not like that okay?! You’re the only girl I like! I gave other girls attention because I knew my feelings were one sided!” He finally yells.

You stare at him with wide eyes. Finally feeling brave enough to let the tears fall down your cheek. You watch his shoulders slump as if a weight was finally took off his shoulders. He reaches out to you again but his time he holds your face in his large hands.

“Why didn’t you tell me? why didn’t yo-“ but your sentence was cut short by Geto’s lips touching yours, you gasp as you feel his lips press against yours, moulding perfectly, effectively stealing your breath away.

You both slowly pull away from each other’s face, your face still in Geto’s hold, in fact, your whole body was supported against Geto’s muscular one.

You stare into each other’s eyes until Geto’s adoring gaze falls into your lips, his thumb wiping your saliva away. Your breathing gets heavier as you inch closer to Geto’s perfect warm lips, until you are rudely interrupted by your white haired friend.

The main door open with a drunk Gojo appearing. “GUYS YOU WILL NOT BELIEVE WHO I SAW AT THIS PARTY TONIGHT” he tells in excitement, the alcohol in his veins making him completely oblivious to his surroundings.

You and Geto have already pulled away from eachother by the time Gojo staggers into the kitchen, you sigh as you help your drunk friend sit and Geto smiles to himself as he makes a hot drink to sober Gojo up.

“BUT HE CALLED ME AN ABINO RAT!!! BUT APPARENTLY I WENT TOO FAR BY SAYING HE PROBABLY DUNKS HIS BISCUITS IN WATER BECAUSE HIS DADDY NEVER CAME BACK WITH THE MILK?!”

You nod along to your friends nonsense, until you notice Geto give you a cup of hot chocolate. You look up to the handsome man and notice his lips moving.

“We’ll talk later doll” he mouths before winking.

[captain-tangrine]

Midnights

| Trafalgar law x reader

Fluff . Law is an idiot

Law felt calm as you sat on the other side of the room doing your own thing, this has been going on for a while now, you just come to his office and read, sketch, work or even sleep.

not a lot of words are spoken simply because there isn't a need for them, but law finds himself in nights like feeling thankful for your presence more that ever.

God forbid he says this out loud but your presence has been calming him lately, making him less tired or irritated, could be the idea that he isn't working alone that makes it less stressful for him but he's fairly sure it's because of you, don't get him wrong he loved his crew more than he'll ever admit but only you had this effect on him.

He watches as you read a book you found in his study, he knows you can feel his gaze because you're not that oblivious and he's not subtle either, he also knows he should get to work but god how much he'd wish you'd initiate something right now, anything could be a hug or simply a nod he just needs you to acknowledge him.

So as someone with no skill in expressing feelings he just clears his throat to get you attention, you look up to him and okay okay he can do this he's a big guy, he has killed people before telling you to sit next to him is no big deal, right? Hell no aborte mission

" Can you pass me that file there " coward

" Sure " you give him the file and he doesn't even know what to do with it, he figures pretending to read it for a bit then putting it aside would work, except that when ipu go back to reading you sit next to his desk, smiling as if you knew what he was thinking, shit shit shit

" You know, captain. You're not that hard to read " he doesn't respond in favour of hiding his blush with the file, just murmuring a ' shut up ' that makes you giggle, okay maybe the captain of the heart pirates has a tine crush, would he act on it? Nope, do you know that ? yep, would you release him from his misery? Maaaybe.

[unholyhelbig]

More firecrest pls & thank u

Title: Firecrest (Part 5/7)

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five

Summary: Kate Bishop and y/n have an unspoken agreement that revolves around being enemies with benefits. But when Kate's new mentor is someone Y/n is very familiar with, things become complicated.

Warnings: More bad parenting, Needles, shootings (guns and mention of death), discrimination, Politics (vaguely), and horrible grammar because we all know I don't proofread.

[A/n: Woo, okay, have finally gotten my bearings on a chapter count. Two more to go folks and then all of my attention will be focused on Fright Night!]

The bourbon burned uncomfortably when you swallowed it down in two gulps. The warmth swirled in your stomach and instantly went to your head. It was a dizzy feeling, one that replaced the despair that had settled in your bones. The oaky taste was appealing enough for you to tap the edge of the glass to signal for another.

The Rusty Nail was the definition of ‘dive-bar’, with its smoke-yellowed walls and torn booth seats that frothed with foam. The bartender had a stained towel over his shoulder and replaced the beer that was in front of a man at the other end of the bar, wordlessly.

A box television that had to be from at least the early 90’s was mounted on the corner of the wall. The news played through the speakers with a cracking static. There was roadwork in the majority of Brooklyn, and coat drives taking place at every middle school in the district.

What caught your hazy attention was a photo of Lance. His smile was intoxicating to the general public, and the graph that populated next to him with winning numbers confirmed this fact. He was pulling ahead astonishingly, and even through your misery, you felt a swell of pride.

“Get a load of that guy,” The bartender hissed under his breath.

“Not a fan?”

You’d heard everything under the sun about your step-father, pointedly ignoring the negative opinions in favor for the man that cooked fantastic blueberry pancakes. His campaign relied on dissolving what remained of the Sokovia accords, and removing the restrictions that were put on Inhumans.

For you, it was easy. While a deep and dark fire brewed within you, you still looked relatively normal. Of course, you went through your teenage phases of turmoil, just like everyone else. But, there were people out there who weren’t so lucky; Inhumans that were plagued with spikes covering their entire bodies, translucent skin that displayed the entirety of their innerworkings, or the rocks that engulfed you once, never falling away at all.

Still, with the small Inhuman marking on the edge of your license, it took three times as long to get through airport security, and renting an apartment hadn’t even been a possibility without your mother co-signing. The world still feared Inhumans, just as they feared the changes that came along with them.

It had been changing for years, and Lance wanted to push things just a little further. You held out hope, but immense love for the man who had helped raised you. Though, not everyone felt the same way. A good portion of citizens opposed the man with the golden smile and kind eyes because of his stance on Inhumans.

“He’s pretty don’t get me wrong. But his stance on those… freaks? Those accords are the only thing keeping our streets safe.”

“Oh?”

“You disagree?”

You took a tentative sip of your drink. You were bone-tired and not much into political talk. It was the middle of the night, and you had just felt the adhesive of your ‘fake-dating-band-aid” get ripped from your skin. It left a stinging discomfort behind.

You shrugged “I don’t think they’re hurting anyone.”

The bartender narrowed his eyes and scoffed. He took your empty glass and didn’t offer to refill it. He probably thought you were drunk, and while you were a little tipsy at best, your position on what you were, what so many people around you hid, stayed the same. It worried you, the target that Lance had on his back because of this.

“What about that shooting?”

“The one committed by a human?

This silenced him, though he wore his frown on his sleeve. It had been so quick, blasted all over the news. A father of a teenager had walked into the pizza place where his son worked and opened fire. He’d found out earlier in the day, that his son was an Inhuman, exposed to the same chemicals you were. Three people died, including the shooter, but it was spun in a way that was unforgiveable.

You held you tongue, instead, throwing your money on the counter. You’d come here to get away from the chaos of your own mind. It had dulled the anxieties to an extent, but what was taken away was soon replaced with annoyance.

Your apartment was, of course, empty upon your return. Keys were set on the end table by the door and you flicked on the nearest light so you could avoid the furniture that you thought about moving every single day. It was lonely here. Cold in a way that went beyond a thermostat.

Sleeping was well out of the question, so you skimmed the bookshelf placed on the far side of the room and grabbed the piece of literature that was most appealing. You saw no point in keeping books that didn’t pull you in within the first hundred pages, but there was a staple few that you kept no matter what.

You’d picked up a worn copy of Pride and Prejudice. You thumbed through the pages, letting it fan the sharp sourness of old paper. The last time you’d read it, you only made it halfway through, and the makeshift bookmark that fell out landed on your lap.

You abandoned the book as quickly as you picked it up in favor for the page marker. It was an old, folded photo. As if pouring salt into the wound, it was one of the only known photos of you and Kate together. Her smile beamed at the camera, one arm around your shoulder and the other holding up the middle finger. 

The two of you were standing on the docks at rented cabin that your families shared. Usually, you didn’t run into the Bishops, but one fateful year, your leisure time had aligned. Eleanor wanted to take a nice photo. You never knew if it was for the masses, or for her own pleasure, but Kate ruined every single shot with her shit-eating grin and obscene gestures.

It had been creased right down the middle, a sloppy split in the glossed parchment. A tear had dripped from your chin and landed on the edge, your throat suddenly tight. You didn’t bother wiping them away, or picking up the discarded copy of Pride and Prejudice when it hit the carpet with an undignified thump.

You were sobbing by the time you decided to fold the photo back up. That was as far as you had gotten, really. Slumped back in a worn loveseat and letting the tears that had been building all day well-up and soak your collar. It wasn’t a pretty sight, and your chest ached fiercely.

It angered you, that all of this was about Kate Bishop, of all people.

It should be Clint that brought on the wealth of emotions. And in a way, it was. It had always been. The archer had discarded you as a young child, and you supposed you should be thankful for that. You were privileged, especially compared to the poor boy in the pizza shop. But the scars still lingered horribly.

You landed softly, and most of that had been because of Kate. The anger and distress that came with the situation was always dampened by her stormy eyes and her pension for doing good. It rebelled against the Bishop protocol and after a long while, you realized she was different. Kinder. Clumsier. More dedicated.

She knew what she wanted, just as well as she knew what you needed. In moments of anger, she’d distract you with her innate ability to drive you crazy with competition. In panic, she had a softer touch that soothed you into extinguishing volatile flames.

Sleeping with her had been a bad idea. You knew if from the start, but preened at her deeper attention, at the way her hands felt against you, breath fanning warmly across your cheeks and then your chest. For her, you were a release. For you, she was everything.

You were in love, with Kate, mother fucking, Bishop.

It weighed your shoulders down, labored your breathing. But strangely, you felt no flames. The warmth that usually accompanied strong emotions such as these wasn’t there. For the first time, in a long time, you succumbed to sadness. Just sadness.

The cobalt of Kate’s dress illuminated the blue ringlets in her iris’s. They caught the light of the chandelier in the lobby. They were crystal, hanging low but secured tightly to the ceiling. Almost as tight as the dress that Kate wore.

You were clad in a tailored suit, loosely buttoned black fabric a lace corset that matched the cobalt of Kate’s cocktail dress. She’d sent you the color combination in a single word text. Blue. And you’d followed her instructions perfectly, matching her wavelength like always.

For extra measure, you put on a dainty stainless steel arrow necklace. It showed commitment, it was just short of showing your misery. Kate’s eyes canned from your toes to your own stare and you barely suppressed the shivers that came with her scrutiny.

She figured it would be better to face this on a united front and arrive together. She let out a quiet huff of indignance and folded her arm enough for you to loop your own through it. Her warmth, her comfort, no matter how scarce, was overwhelming and threatened to bring back the tears.

That wasn’t what tonight was about. Tonight was about having a united front, about being endlessly in love to make your parents uncomfortable. You weren’t quite sure what Kate was getting out of this and she wasn’t about to tell you either.

The elevator ride up was uncomfortable. She’d never been this quiet for this long before.

“Kate,”

“No.” She clenched her jaw, voice a low whisper despite it only being the two of you and the slowly climbing lift. “For once, y/n, don’t say a word.”

Your eyes met hers in the reflective paneling and you gave her a small nod. The silence had suddenly become heavier, deeper. Your hand curled up in your jacket pocket before you diverted your gaze. The only mercy was the elevator reaching the penthouse, a muffled ‘ding’ proceeding the doors sliding open to her foyer.

The archer had pulled her shoulders back and had a soft smile on her face. There was a sadness behind her eyes that anyone else would have to dig for, but you could see it from a mile away. She was hurting as much as you were but wasn’t going to show it.

You did just the same, working the tension from your features as the scent of lamb coated your lungs and made your stomach clench. You’d always hated the dish, but it was a staple of the Bishop family chef so you powered through it every time.

She smoothed her hand over your jacket sleeve as the two of you stepped out of the elevator. It almost scared you how perfectly she fit into this role. It was the flip of a switch. You were uncomfortable with the thought of it being in your favor. You couldn’t feel the love behind her gestures, because they were just that. Gestures.

“Ready?” She asked.

“Ready.” You replied.

The mechanical whir of the elevator had attracted the attention of those who had already arrived. You’d been in Kate’s house once or twice, enough to count on only one hand. But, you knew the layout fairly well. Her apartment was open concept, and this had a million intersecting walls and corridors.

The two of you passed the dining room and entered something you could only describe as a sitting room, maybe a study with the large oak bookshelves, dusty and untouched. The walls were a Spanish moss green and the hardwood covered by an oriental rug.

Eleanor wore a blood red dress, and Jack had a matching silk pocket square. Clint was the only one that stood out among all of you. He wore a nice dress shirt that was tucked into black pants, he looked cleanly pressed and perfect for a Bishop dinner party.

He held a glass of whiskey, and Jack was pouring one more. He gave you a beaming, and wholly innocent smile, his mustache lifting at the sides. “Miss Morse! Katie!”

You felt Kate stiffen next to you at the name, her jaw clenching. Instinctively, your hand covered hers, thumb ghosting over the scarring on her knuckles. Her shoulders seemed to lower, and that breath smelled of the familiar wintergreen.

“Darling,” Eleanor moved forward and placed phantom kisses against both of Kate’s cheeks before moving to do the same with you. “Let me get a good look at you both.”

“Mom, you’ve seen us before.”

“Not like this. It’s different. Before it was just rumors, and speculation. Annoying, isn’t it? But now, we can spin this anyway we want to.”

Kate gave her mother a tight smile. “We’re not a press opportunity”

“Not so easy to say when you’ve already been all the press can talk about.” She shrugged and took the glass from Jacks hand. “You know, at first, I thought this was horrible. But people seem to like you both.”

There was something on the tip of her tongue that wanted to escape. A God Know’s why or a couldn’t be me. But she said neither and an uncomfortable silence fell over you all. Kate subconsciously tightened her fingers against your arm once more, and the pressure was nearly soothing.

Your eyes met Clint’s across the room, and you got hit with the familiar feeling of your world tilting in a nauseating way. He offered up a small smile, the only one he could muster within these last few chaotic weeks.

He waved at Kate, not enthusiastically, a neutral and awkward expression of affection. Kate let out a long breath, retracting her arm and similarly placing her hand on the small of your back. She needed a grounding technique, just as much as you did.

Eleanor sensed the tension and announced that it was time for dinner. The scent of the lamb came rolling back in crashing waves. Upon entering the dining room, you were positive that the woman hadn’t cooked this meal herself.

A linin table cloth was punctuated with candles, bathing the room in a dull yellow light. There were different platters piled with dripping meat, and steaming mashed potatoes. Glasses of red wine rested next to the salads situated on gold plating.

Fire crackled within the large stone hearth that you’d never seen lit. It seemed almost directed, sitting in front of the warm, smoldering flames. Across from you was Eleanor and Jack, Clint right in between them. Jack seemed particularly fond of the man, similarly entrapped by his accomplishments as the rest of the world.

“Everyone, dig in” Eleanor prompted “No need to be so formal.”

“Right,” Kate cleared her throat, picking up fork and chasing a cherry tomato with the prongs. “How is everyone?”

You winced at the pathetic attempt at small talk, staring down at your own wilted greens. It was a valiant effort that was promptly ignored by everyone else at the table.

“Y/n, why don’t you tell us more about yourself?” Eleanor asked.

Kate gave you a look that intimately read as you don’t have to entertain her. “You know all about Y/n. We grew up together.”

“From fifth grade onward. I remember when your mom enrolled you. You kept deliberately ripping your uniform until she agreed to pants. Same thing happened with Katherine. But now that you and my daughter are involved, I’d like to know more.”

She took a sip of her wine, and your fingers brushed over the glass base of your own glass. But you didn’t pick it up. You’d decided last night, sometime between showering off the scum of the dive-bar and propping a window in your apartment to get some fresh air, that you needed a clear head for something like this.

You cleared your throat. “Well, uh, what would you like to know?”

“Where you grew up!” Jack cut in fantastically, talking around a mouth full of vegetation, waving his fork around like a madman “Your favorite color, if you have any pets!”

Your stare flicked to Clint, but he was staring down at his untouched food. He didn’t know the answer to any of these questions and the stinging bile that threatened to push past your lips was instantly swallowed back down in favor of your dignity.

“I moved around a lot as a kid, my mom traveled for work a lot so we were never in one place for too long. Amsterdam, Delhi, Perth. The best place though, was a small desert town in Arizona. There weren’t many people there and it could get to about a hundred degrees by the time the sun was at it’s highest point. But it was peaceful, and beautiful.”

Clint was watching you carefully now. He’d been there too. It was one of the last places you’d traveled together as a family. There was a small strip of old wooden structures that reminded you of the wild west, cutting through the orange of the desert. Murals were painted against the rocky structures, writhing snakes, swallowing the sun, and fire shimmering over it’s scales.

It was captivating during the day, but even better at night. It was the clearest you had ever seen the stars. Blankets of twinkling constellations and milky ways that you’d never seen before. Your neck started to ache from staring up at it for so long, and it was Clint who had laid a blanket in the bed of his truck and laid next to you to view them.

He’d taught you about the different formations, and of course, his favorite, the Sagittarius. An archer that sacrificed his own mortality for the sake of his sons. It seemed ironic now. But then, it had made you feel like the most important girl in the world.

“A dusty old desert town over the streets of Amsterdam?” Eleanor seemed to find amusement in this, piercing a slice of carrot with the prongs of her fork. It gave a satisfying snap. “Interesting.”

“It was peaceful” You shrugged, finally giving in and taking a warm sip of wine. “The last time we were together as a family.”

“Is that right?”

Eleanor was enjoying herself too much and Kate’s hand nervously went to the charm around her own neck. You hadn’t noticed it before, trying to be respectful. Trying not to let your eyes wander during an irreparable time.

She looked best in gold and knew that from a young age. The chain was dainty, and the pendant was a whisp of a flame. It made your mouth go dry and you wondered if it was a conscious decision, just like the one you had made to grab the only necklace with an arrow.

“I remember that place.” Clint spoke up for the first time. “It was called Chloride. Weird name for a town.”

You were too transfixed on Kate’s fingers running over the curvature of the necklace to care. Her cheeks took on a red tint in the glow of the candles. She removed her hand and found yours on top of the table. It was damp, but a solid force.

“You were afraid of scorpions in your shoes and made me and your mom check and double check them before you even thought of putting them on. You usually went barefoot, which was more dangerous than just wearing the shoes.”

“Is this your idea of an olive branch?”

The words left your mouth without thinking, and they were pumped with venom. You couldn’t help it. Your stomach was already rolling unsteadily and his words, though soaked with kindness, were far from merited. Kate’s mother sat back with an almost giddy look on her face. She’d been expecting this.

Kate tightened her grip inadvertently, and you could feel the small sting of her nails carving crescents into your palm. You wholly expected her gaze to be narrowed at you, but it was transfixed on Clint. There was a hardness there that she had harbored for you earlier in the week.

You let out a strangled breath and stared down at your salad. It wasn’t worth it. None of this felt worth it. In a strange way, you were absolutely defeated, and the wilted lettuce was much more interesting than satisfying Eleanor Bishop’s sick need for chaos.

“No. of course not.” His expression betrayed a sadness that pulled uncomfortably at your chest. “Just a memory, is all.”

“Do you know what I remember?”

Kate rumbled softly, a noise that was every bit the warning to you. Let it go. She worried incessantly about the fire under your fingertips. Possibly more than yourself in moments like these. But there was no itching beneath your skin. For once, it was just a storm of sorrow. Sweat was forming on your brow and Kate’s grip shifted to your wrist, finger pressed plainly to your pulse.

“The look in your eyes when you walked away. I was just a kid, but that was the first time I ever learned about betrayal. For months, Clint, months I would sit by the window and wait for you to come back. It didn’t matter where we were, what country, what city, I would wait. I was certain that you would find us and we could be a family again.”

He clenched his knife and fork on either side of his plate, his knuckles turning a sickly type of white that nearly echoed yellow, his whisper was broken. “I’m… sorry. I understand that you need someone to blame, kid.”

“Blame?” You let out a dry laugh, standing with enough force to push the chair back with a strangled screech. “You think this is about blame? That’s a simple emotion to work through. This is about which one of you was willing to stick around when things got hard, and which one of you ran to a new family.”

The silence was deafening. Eleanor lifted her wine glass and hid her vicious smirk behind the seductive red liquid. Jack had directed his tender stare to Kate, no-doubt deciding then and there to be a good stepfather for more than a few moments at a time.

You sucked in a heavy breath before shaking your head and leaving the room. It wasn’t difficult to navigate the Bishop penthouse, with it’s dark open-concept layout. You needed air. It was much too hot in the dining room and you’d begun to sweat through your layers of clothing.

The balcony connected to the family room lacked decoration. It was a stone ledge that caught the cold drafts of high winds, drying the sweat against your skin instantly. You swallowed enough frigid air to burn your throat, but the tears refused to come. You couldn’t cry anymore.

Your head hung over the edge of the balcony, a strange dizziness washing over you as you stared down at the passing traffic, hundreds of unblinking eyes that lit up the night. You wish you had the foresight to grab the glass of wine, or something stronger from Jacks secret stash.

The temperature had dropped significantly by the time you heard the sliding glass door open. You didn’t bother turning around. Not with the subtle evergreen scent. “Tell Eleanor I’m sorry for ruining dinner.”

“Ruining?” Kate chuckled softly. Warmth engulfed you as she draped a blanket over your shoulders. You grasped the frayed edges out of habit and tugged it closely around you. “She lives for the drama of it all. She expected this, I think you’ve actually made her year.”

She leaned against the balcony, letting her hands hang over the edge. She looked ethereal in the moonlight, pale and beautiful. The tell-tale anger that had been etched into her features earlier was surrendered. You caught the glint of her bracelet and nervously brought your own hand up to the cool arrow charm that rested against your collarbone.

“It’s frustrating, isn’t it? Waiting for someone to apologize?”

The corner of your lips lifted into a smile. “Very subtle, Katie.”

“I’m giving you an opening here.”

You sighed heavily and turned just enough to get a better look at her. She always knocked the breath out of you in an almost cruel way. Her eyes held a tenderness that was unmatched. She was patient with you, just like she had always been.

“This entire time, I’ve been chasing after an apology from Clint., one that he’s too proud to give. It’s easy to be consumed by something like that, but that’s no excuse to hurt you in the process.” You swallowed heavily, trying to curb the dryness in your throat.

You couldn’t look at her. The mere sight of the curve of her jaw, the softness of her demeanor despite her deep seeded anger, would be too much. Kate effectively knocked you off your feet every single time she spared you a glance. If you were going to get this out in the open, you’d much rather stare at the traffic below.

 “Katie, I can’t begin to describe how much you mean to me. We’ve always had this unspoken rivalry and for the longest time I couldn’t figure it out. Why couldn’t we both just be good at the same things without vying against one another?”  

You let out a wounded sigh, fingers digging into the stone balcony. “I never understood why I wanted to beat you so badly, and I don’t know where along the way that changed. But I’ve realized recently that it was never about beating you. It was about making you proud.”

Her breath had caught, a subtle noise that you noticed due to proximity. Her hand was atop yours, much like it was at dinner, somehow warmer than your own. She didn’t say anything, and you didn’t lift your gaze to meet hers. Your cheeks were enflamed with blush that you could blame on the two sips of wine you had.

“Deep down, I’ve always known that I’ve been in love with you since that first kiss at archery camp. I don’t expect you to feel the same, but I was doing more damage hiding it from you than putting it out there. You have to understand, Katie, I never meant to hurt you the other day. I’m just so used to burying it down, to keeping my emotions stifled for the greater good, that I didn’t know what to say… how to say it.”

She was rendered speechless herself and you could feel your vision start to blur at the edges, the lights from lines of city traffic suddenly fuzzy. You were never a fan of heights, but the sudden sloppy confession was much more daunting than the prospect of falling thirty stories.

“Oh,” Kate rasped.

You clenched your eyes shut until you saw stars. She’d never been a girl of little words, and you felt your heart rate increase. It pounded listlessly, preparing for rejection that you knew typically followed her silence.

None of that came, however, instead was the slightest pinprick against the side of your neck. You would have figured it nothing more than a mosquito if the weather hadn’t taken an icy turn. But this was different, this alerted your senses in one fail swoop.

Your eyes snapped open and narrowed at Kate in time to register the emptying of the syringe she’d pushed past your skin. A sickly green liquid that already stung terribly as it started to pulse through your veins.

“A lovely sentiment, I’m sure.” She pouted in a mocking way, lilting her head to the side as she pulled the needle from the side of your neck. Your fingers pressed against the area to quell the foreign sensation.

You were suddenly incredibly dizzy, the pulsing of your vision matching with the frantic beating of your heart. You were losing strength quickly, clinging to the stone balcony for some type of solace. You fell all the same, collapsed at its corner with quick breaths of panic.

Kate was suddenly crouched in front of you. She lifted your chin until you could stare into her eyes. They were cold, emotionless. “Maybe one day, you’ll be able to tell her.”

Her thumb brushed lightly over your cheek. It was so familiar, yet incredibly foreign. Your thoughts were muddled, non-existent as the heavy sensation took over. She seemed to revel in your confusion, in the pain that she’d so easily inflicted.

Kate’s disconnected stare was the last thing you saw before darkness swallowed you whole in an odd type of comfort, the world ceased to flicker, like the edges of a flame.

Tag List💕: @noturlondonboy, @slvtformaria, @pianogirl2121, @escapereality4music, @cyberbonesworld, @dark-hunter16

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

The Princess & The Playboy (Part 6)

Summary: Sam and Max's plan to get their siblings invited to a party may have worked but Sebastian Monroe is a dangerous man and they may have just put not only their lives but their families at risk too...

Masterlist

Pairing: NFL Quarterback!Dean x Pop Star!reader

Word Count: 5,400ish

Warnings: language, family trauma/angst, kidnapping

A/N: Uh oh...

_________

Two Weeks Later

Reader POV

“Damn,” said Dean, shaking out his arm after you’d tossed him a football in the backyard. “I’m going to need your arm workout and no, I am not joking.”

“Oh my god, did I tell you the dance choreographer wanted me to learn to do a handstand so I could sing, upside down? I shut that shit down so fast,” you said, Dean gently tossing the ball back to you. 

“I’m sure you could do it. But I don’t blame you for not wanting to,” he said, catching the ball one handed. “Do you get a lot of say in that stuff? Dance moves?”

“That would require me to be able to dance,” you laughed, clasping both arms around the ball when he threw it back.

“She’s right. God awful dancer when it’s not choreographed. Miracle she can fake it as well as she does,” said Eric from the patio table, glancing up from his phone. “It’s four by the way.”

“Ugh. Why’d we say yes to this stupid party?” you asked. Dean shrugged.

“This guy donates a bunch of money to the Wolves charity every year. Plus Emma said it’s not a bad idea to go to a charity event together. Apparently it helps the public not think of me as such a scoundrel.” You tossed him the ball one last time, clasping your hands behind your back.

“I mean you are the big bad playboy corrupting the virtue of the sweet princess of pop,” you said, batting your eyes, twirling your hips. You grinned when he frowned, his eyes like a predator sizing up his prey. “I think the media is right about you. Such a bad influence.”

“Oh keep it up, princess, and I’ll tell them you ain’t innocent in the slightest.”

“Someone put me out of my misery,” groaned Eric, rising to his feet. “I’m getting dressed and going over protocols with the team. We’ll head out at seven.”

“Ain’t it kind of early to get ready?” asked Dean as you tossed him the ball one last time. Eric only laughed and headed inside, Dean cocking his head at you. “I know girls take a long time to get ready but three hours?”

“Shower. Shave. Makeup. Hair. Plus I told Sloane I’d help do her hair and pick out a dress,” you said, Dean humming. “I’m sure there’s a college game on you could watch for awhile.”

“I got some game film I can review,” he said, a heavy sigh in his shoulders. You wrapped your arms around him, Dean ditching the ball to return it. “It just never ends.”

“You love football, though,” you said, Dean nodding. 

“I do. But every year it’s getting to be more and more. I know you understand the pressure of it all. I just…I’m tired. I want to have more of a life outside my job,” he said, sliding his hands down your arms, taking your hands in his. “Does that make sense?”

“Yeah,” you said softly, Dean sharing the same sad smile you wore. “Me, I can have less tour dates and not put out an album every single year. I can make more wiggle room for myself. But I know you can’t. And sometimes I worry when I watch you play, pushing your body so hard.”

“I’m incredibly lucky I’m the least sacked QB in the league. I’ve had only one surgery and that was cause I broke my toe like an idiot on a coffee table. I don’t want to be like these guys that stay in too long and wind up with so much pain at forty. Or worse.” 

“I guess the thing to ask yourself is, do you want to keep going? Or could you walk away and be satisfied?” you asked. He breathed deeply and closed his eyes. 

“All I know is I used to put my head down, bury myself in the game. All I looked forward to was getting to the season, the start of a game, feeling that rush. This year…I’m looking forward to being done with work and games way too much. It’s like I’d rather be somewhere else…with someone else,” he murmured.

You nodded, squeezing his hands. “Nothing to decide today.”

“I know. Go get ready. I can occupy myself for a few hours.”

“Damn,” you said when it was nearly seven. Sloane looked down at herself alarmed, glancing back worried. “Sloane, you’re fucking hot.”

“I’m forty two,” she scoffed, smoothing out the floor length gown. “I’m not hot.”

“Hell yeah you are,” you said, Sloane tucking a strand of freshly curled hair behind her ear. “Eric’s going to fucking drool.”

“He better not,” she mumbled, taking a breath as she put her leg up on a chair and hiked the skirt portion up. She opened up her clutch sat on the end of the bed and slapped a very small thigh holster on her right leg, a smaller than usual gun inside. 

“Right. Cause really hot women packing heat are total turn offs for him,” you said, adjusting the strap that ran across your shoulder. She pouted and you handed her the clutch. “You said you could work with him tonight. We’re only bringing two of you inside and we wanted our best.”

“I can. He’s good about not speaking about anything but strictly work lately,” she said, sitting on the bed. “Does he seem…different to you?”

You knew why she was asking. Eric had told you he needed a few hours a week off for therapy a few weeks back. You practically jumped for joy that he was going to get some help to work through some things. Then it all shattered when he said it was related to his dad and needing to address some stuff he did to him as a kid. He didn’t share more but you had a feeling that had as much impact on him as his days in the military, probably more.

“It’s hard to tell with him,” you said, trying to respect his privacy. Plus, it actually was difficult to see a difference. Eric held everything close to the chest. Sometimes too much.

“Yeah. There’ll be no issues working together this evening,” she said, forcing a smile. You wanted to offer some reassurance that he was trying and maybe someday things between them could change. But honestly, you had no clue if they would work things out.

“Good. Well, let’s go see the boys.” A moment later you were coming down the stairs, Dean and Eric wandering out from the front hall in their tuxedos. Eric had always looked handsome when he dressed up but Dean?

He was walking sin in the tailored outfit, showing off his large shoulders and trim waist. You could feel the heat in your cheeks when he stared like he wanted to devour you then and there.

“Wow,” said Dean, a growing smile on his face, eyeing you up and down. It was a fairly simple dress. Black. One shoulder and a thin strap on the other. Form fitting up top before it became loose at the hips. It probably didn’t match black tie standard one hundred percent but it’d been sitting in your closet for two years and you finally had an excuse to wear it.

“Wow yourself,” you said, tugging on the lapel of his jacket. “Put you in one of these and you’d never imagine you spend literally every single day in flannels, henleys, and black tees.”

“Strange considering I’ve seen you wearing those clothing items a lot more yourself lately,” he teased, grinning down like a cat staring at the mouse it’d cornered.

“Oh, just a coincidence,” you said, Eric clearing his throat. You rolled your eyes, getting a roll in return. “You look nice too, Eric. I know you need the compliment on your appearance or your ego will bust.”

“Why did I take this job,” he mumbled to himself, staring at Sloane as she walked ahead for the front door. “You look beautiful.”

Sloane stopped dead in her tracks, looking over her shoulder at him, his gaze shooting to you. 

“I know you’ve wanted to wear that dress for awhile,” he said to you, Sloane rolling her eyes and walking outside. Eric closed his eyes when she was gone, Dean slapping his shoulder.

“Don’t worry, buddy. I’m sure my hyper observant protection agent didn’t catch the way you said that straight to her face and then pretended to say it to your boss.” Eric shrugged him off and grumbled on his way outside, harshly pulling the door behind him. “Damn. I was hoping they’d have some kind of fairytale moment or shit. He looked like he wanted to fuck her over the kitchen table.”

“I don’t know. We’ll just…wait and see what happens,” you said, holding out your hand. “Ready to go?”

“One sec,” he said, reaching into his pocket and pulling something out. He slipped something elastic over your wrist, beaming when you stared down at it to find it was a friendship bracelet, like the kind from when you were kids. This one was black, gray and white, the LA Wolves colors. You turned it over when you felt a few square beads, expecting to see DEAN.

Your heart skipped when you saw MAX with a few beads separating it from SAM. You glanced up Dean, his green eyes flittering down to where he’d removed his jacket, right sleeve pushed up. 

Dean had always had Sam’s initials tattooed on his forearm. You remember that happened at some point in college, not too long after Sam went missing. The initials right below it were new though, his skin tinged a light pink from where the tattoo was still fresh.

“Is that-”

“Max’s initials? Yeah, looks like it,” he said, a coy smile crossing his face. You held out a finger, Dean humming it was alright to touch. A thick swallow was audible as you traced over the delicate skin, black ink soaked into the creamy canvas of his body.

“Fuck you,” you whispered, Dean’s face falling.

“Sweetheart, I’m-” he said as he wiped at your eyes, mascara coming away on the back of your hand. You laughed, shaking your head at him.

“Look what you did you sweet man,” you laughed, a few tears falling free. “Dean, you didn’t have to put his name on your body.”

“Brothers go on the arm. It’s kind of my thing,” he said, your bottom lip wobbling as a swell of emotion hit you. “Are you mad?”

“No,” you croaked out, squeezing your bracelet. “I wish they were with us.”

“Me too,” he said softly, wiping his thumb under your eye, stopping a tear from falling. “Y/N.”

You met his green eyes, thumb stroking your cheek with a barely there touch.

“You understand you’re my girl, right?” You nodded, Dean’s head tilting slightly, eyes scanning down to your lips slowly and back up just as lazily. “So. Am I yours?”

You held a finger to his lips and turned towards the front door, pulling it open, Eric and Sloane both leaned against an SUV.

“We’ll leave in thirty,” you said, pulling the door shut again, finding Dean with a raised eyebrow. “I need ten to fix my makeup. The other twenty is to show you exactly how much you’re mine.”

Dean POV

I stepped outside while Y/N used the bathroom, the brisk air doing wonders for cooling me down after what I could only describe as the most intimate handjob I’d ever received. It was the one thing that stuck out to me about sex with Y/N. Every other partner I’d had, it was about release, pleasure. With Y/N though, it felt different. A good different. Yeah, it was about the pleasure there too but it was…comforting in a way, joined together. 

Once Y/N had let go of her fear of it, intimacy turned out to be one of her favorite things in the world. And it was becoming one of mine too. She just made me feel safe. Whole again.

“Told you she’d cry about the tattoo,” mumbled Eric in my ear, hands clasped behind his back. “Surprised you didn’t get down on one knee yet.”

“We understand what we are to each other,” I said, adjusting the sleeve of my jacket. “The time for that’ll come eventually but I don’t think either one of us is in a rush to get there.”

“Ready!” exclaimed Y/N, rushing outside barefoot, the skirt of her dress bunched up in one hand, heels in the other. “How late are we?”

“Oh, only forty five minutes,” said Eric, Y/N jumping in the backseat when he opened the door. “Clutch?”

“I’m the purse tonight,” I chuckled, patting my pocket where her phone, a lipstick and extra hair tie resided. 

“Good. I usually get stuck with it,” said Eric, patting my bottom. “Let’s move it kiddos.”

“Hopefully this party doesn’t suck,” said Y/N beside me as we drove up a long driveway thirty minutes later, lips pursed.

“You hate parties,” Eric chuckled from the passenger seat.

“I hate parties where people ask me to sing at their kid’s sweet sixteen which is like, almost all the time,” she said, my hand reaching over and interlacing our hands together. “Sorry. That sounded bitchy.”

“It sounded like that’s really annoying to have happen all the time,” I said, the car slowing down behind another luxury SUV. “We won’t stay long, just a few hours. I know we have to do this for me.”

“Hey,” she said, voice firm. My eyes flickered to hers in the dark space. “We both have more money than we know what to do with. I’m perfectly happy to waste an evening if it means sending some of that money to a good cause. You getting some good press out of it is a bonus.”

“I ever tell you how wonderful you are?” I asked, heart swelling up as she blushed. “Want to go show off your reformed bad boy, sweetheart?”

“You were never bad,” she said, pecking a kiss on my lips. She grinned goofily and wiped them off with her thumb. “Lipstick.”

“You can take it off if you promise to put it back later,” I said, Y/N’s eyes flirting down to my groin, a wicked smirk on her face. “Down girl.”

“I’ll play with you later,” I said as we stopped. Eric slid out of the passenger seat as I opened the back door. I exited and held out a hand, helping Y/N down in her obnoxious skinny little heels. They looked like a death trap to me but she danced around on stage for three hours in them so if anyone knew how to work them, it was her.

Damn she was sexy in that dress. Almost as sexy as those red flannel pajama pants she wore last night. And that cozy blue sweater on Thursday. Or that-

“Stop staring at her,” said Sloane, pushing on my back so I’d move and she could slip out of the backseat. “You’re like a puppy obsessed with her.”

“Be nice,” Y/N chided, taking a step forward, letting me follow her lead. Eric and Sloane fell in place behind us, the driver staying with the car and driving off towards where the cars were being parked. 

A man in a nice suit opened the front door for us, revealing a grand hall that made Y/N’s house look like a starter home. 

“This guy is loaded,” I whispered in Y/N’s ear as we found ourselves quickly surrounded by people when they caught sight of her. There must have been three hundred people at this thing.

“Here we go,” she mumbled before putting on a big smile, immediately getting asked to be in a selfie with a woman in her twenties.

For the next thirty minutes it felt like we were bombarded, stuck not ten feet past the door in a never ending line of people wanting to talk to Y/N. Yes, some people were football fans but a vast majority were there for Y/N, some nervous, some practically jumping out of their skins.

“Damn dude, you’re beyond lucky,” said some guy to me as his wife took a picture with Y/N. 

“I know I am,” I responded, Y/N giving me a flash of a smile.

“She needs a break,” whispered Eric in my ear. I stepped forward and cut off the next gaggle of women that wanted to approach. 

“Excuse me, I need to steal Y/N for a minute,” I said, taking her arm and leading her down the large open hall.

“Thanks,” she said, grabbing a glass of champagne off a servers tray. She knocked it back and I started to scan the room in search of water for her.

“Hi,” said a teenage girl in a light blue dress, approaching slowly. She seemed out of place at the event filled with adults in designer clothes. “I’m Cecilia Monroe, Sebastian Monroe’s daughter.”

Ah she was this guys kid. That made sense. “Nice to meet you. We haven’t met your father yet. We’d like to thank him for his numerous donations to the Wolves charity over the years.”

“You have a lovely home,” said Y/N, the girl blushing, clasping her hand over her wrist in a failed attempt to hide her friendship bracelet. Y/N caught it and smiled. “Did you go to the tour this year?”

“Uh yeah. My dad got VIP tickets,” she said shyly, suddenly straightening her back. “I’ll be on the veranda. Please come find me when you’re through with my dad. It’s very important.”

She scuttled away, Y/N raising an eyebrow.

“I think you have a superfan,” I chuckled, Y/N biting her lip. “You think she’s a problem?”

“No. She’s a fan clearly but I don’t know,” she said, waving for Eric and Sloane to join us from where they stood together by a table of appetizers. 

“You two good?” asked Sloane, their eyes finding the young girl and watching her leave.

“Keep an eye on that girl,” Y/N said, nodding as Cecilia went through open back doors outside. They both readied themselves but Y/N shook her head. “Just watch her. This might be a Denver situation.”

“Denver?” I asked, Eric frowning. 

“Fan in Denver was being abused by her parents. Subtly asked Y/N for help at an event. Smart kid actually,” said Eric. “Sloane and I can try a soft approach with the girl, get a feel for if something is up, relay we can keep her safe .”

“This guy does have a lot of private security,” said Sloane. “If something’s happening, she may feel safer knowing we can protect her in the interim.”

“Let’s go talk to the girl,” said Y/N just as a man in a very nice suit came striding down the hall towards us. “I think that’s our host.”

“Eric, Sloane, go see what’s up. We can fend for ourselves for awhile,” I said. They scuttled away as the man greeted us, holding out a hand and shaking mine firmly.

“Sebastian Monroe,” he said with a pleasant enough smile. “And you two are the power couple my teenage daughter will not stop talking about.”

“Yeah, we get that a lot. We said hello to her earlier,” said Y//N with a fake smile, staying close to my side when the men looked like he was going to reach for her hand. “Y/N Y/L/N.”

“Dean Winchester,” I said, taking my hand back, the other wrapped around Y/N’s waist. The man only smiled though, like we didn’t need to introduce ourselves. “I’ve heard you’re a Wolves fan.”

“Oh not anymore than anyone else,” he said with a wave of his hand. “Although a signed jersey by you would certainly go for big bucks at our next charity auction.”

“We’ll have to make that happen for sure,” I said, not enjoying the way his gaze traveled down Y/N’s body. I’d seen it plenty of times tonight but his seemed the most sleazy of all. 

“Speaking of the auction, where are the tables? I’d love to donate,” said Y/N.

“Right side of the veranda, sweetie.” Y/N hummed, giving me a look to join her as soon as I could. “Boy, if I was ten years younger.”

I couldn’t hide my annoyance, Sebastian flashing me a smile. “Oh no. Please go ahead and tell me what you’d do if you were ten years younger.”

“Easy kid. Half the population would bone her if they could,” he said, sipping from the glass in his hand. He took his turn to eye me, a curious look on his face. “You know, I could be inclined to offer another sizeable donation to the Wolves charity for those kids if I could get one of those signed jerseys myself.”

I bit my tongue, both of us aware of the clear message. Refuse and good ol’ Sebastian stops donating a million dollars each year to kids in poverty.

“I’m sure you got one around here somewhere we could fix up,” I said. Sebastian threw an arm over my shoulder and I hide my cringe. 

“Good man. Come on. I got one right in my game room.”

Reader POV

There wasn’t really anything you wanted from the silent auction but you had found a general donation slip at the end of the table and jotted down your agent’s information. You’d looked around for Eric and Sloane or the girl when you finished but hadn’t found any of them which probably wasn’t a good sign. You frowned and walked over the railings edge, looking around the dim yard for any sign of them.

“Bruschetta?” asked one of the servers. 

“No thank you,” you said without looking.

“I must insist,” he said. You rolled your eyes, ready to give it to this guy but something seemed familiar about him. He handed you one on a small napkin as you kept staring. “Take a bite and smile, pretend it’s really good.”

You’d had more than a handful of dangerous fan interactions over the years but this felt…different.

You did as he asked, faking wide eyes at the average at best food. “Who are you?”

“Do not make a scene,” he said as you finished off the food. “I need to get to your bodyguards.”

“Are you trying to protect that girl? Cecilia?” you asked as you played along and took another piece off the tray.

“What? No. I don’t have time for this,” he said, stepping in front of you, your gaze narrowing. “Do not ask questions. Just get me and Max the fuck out of here.”

“Max?” Your heart skipped a beat, the food falling from your hand as you understand where you’d seen him before. “Y-You’re Sam.”

“We’re watched. Get your guards to get us out. Don’t get caught or we’re dead,” he said, turning away and offering a couple nearby food from his tray. You swallowed, instantly putting on your performer’s smile. The one you wore that time you had food poisoning during a concert and were throwing up between songs back in the summer. The crowd had no fucking clue you felt like shit while you gave them the show of their lives.

Time to act your fucking ass off. 

You walked past Sam without a second glance, wishing you could ask him all the questions swirling around in your head. Tell him he was going to be okay. Give him a damn hug and tell him he was safe now.

But you wore that damn smile, all while your blood was boiling. You’d had a lot of dark fantasies about what you’d do to the person that took Max. In recent weeks that’d turned to include Sam too. 

It turned out the monster was a hundred feet away from you inside some fucking mansion.

“Y/N,” said Sloane, appearing through a set of open doors in the house, catching your arm a little roughly. “Stay in public.”

“I need to talk-” She shot daggers at you, shutting you up. 

“Stay in public for the love of god or Eric will kill me,” she said, loosening her grip. “In forty five seconds I need you to be the biggest distraction in the world. Do not go in any rooms with anyone. Your fame will keep you safe but only if there are people around to witness it. Eric has eyes on him. Do not ask questions. Understand?”

“Sam’s on the veranda,” you whispered, Sloane nodding. Cecilia must have told her and Eric about your brothers.

“Go give us a shot to get them out of here.” You nodded and slipped inside, heart thumping away in your throat. Max was with with Eric. Wherever he was, he was with Eric. He was safe. And Sam should have been with Sloane by then. They were both safe.

As long as they got them out of this house and into the damn car before anyone could notice. Before all those private security guards seemingly on the edge of every room could stop them. Your driver was fast though. They just had to get the boys in the car and they’d be alright.

So you needed to be a distraction. A big fucking distraction and buy them time. You froze in the middle of the hallway, watching Sebastian leave a room with Dean by his side, horribly annoyed from the looks of it. An idea sparked in your mind, one you hoped Dean forgave you for someday. 

Yeah, you knew how to cause a big fucking distraction alright.

Dean POV

“You son of a bitch!” screamed Y/N. Normal people could scream loud. A goddamn professional singer that could belt out ballads while running? The whole house went silent at her ear piercing shriek. Even the string orchestra stopped playing. I stared at her as she climbed on top of a table in the center hall, my eyes going wide. “You fucking cheater! You’re a fucking cheater Dean Winchester!”

“Excuse me?” I said, a hundred already with their phones out with even more people piling into the house from the veranda. “Sweetheart-”

“Don’t sweetheart me!” she screamed again. What the fuck was happening? “You’re a cheating bastard! You swore you were different!”

“Y/N, get off the table,” I said gently, very aware of the many phones that were facing us, even some from the freaking staff and private event security. Y/N only backed away when I reached for her, fury in her eyes so visceral it felt like it burned. “Y/N what-”

“I know what you did with her! By the fucking cherry blossoms? Our cherry blossoms? You think you can sleep around on me? I’m the motherfucking Princess of Pop! The world fucking loves me!” 

Something was wrong. Besides the fact I hadn’t cheated, Y/N wasn’t one to scream at people from tabletops. She wasn’t drunk and she wasn’t on drugs. And we had no fucking cherry blossoms. Except for the fact it was the code to get in her house. 

Trust. She was asking me to fucking trust her right now in front of three hundred people while she tore down my reputation.

If my girl was losing her shit, well damn I was going to play right along.

“Oh get off your high fucking horse!” I shouted, Y/N flinching for a brief moment like it’d stung. “I never made you promises. We aren’t even fucking exclusive!”

“What?!” she shouted back as Sebastian came over, clearing his throat.

“Perhaps if you two could-”

“This bitch is a moron for thinking I’d ever want someone like her. Of course I’m dicking around with you! You really think I want some goodie two shoes like you?”

“Man whore!” she shouted.

“Fucking prude!” I screamed back, praying to god Y/N knew that every word out of my mouth was a lie. “No wonder no one wants to date you. Getting in your pants wasn’t even worth it!”

“Funny since getting in yours just takes a smile. I’m surprised you haven’t contracted every disease known to man you pig!”

“At least I get some! You’re wound up so tight surprised anything can fucking fit up there!” Fuck, I was really going to hate myself in the morning.

Y/N was halfway through screaming back at me when I felt both my phone and Y/N’s go off in my pocket.

YOUR BROTHERS ARE SAFE. HOST SECURITY KNOWS WE GOT THEM OUT. OUR SECURITY & FEDS ON THE WAY. ETA TEN MINUTES. DON’T TRUST LOCAL COPS. CORRUPTED. HOST IS BAD GUY. STAY AWAY FROM HIM AND GUARDS. DO WHAT YOU HAVE TO TO STAY IN PUBLIC. 

“What the fuck does brothers safe mean?” I asked, tossing my phone to her. Y/N caught it one handed, her whole body relaxing momentarily before tensing again, her rage suddenly on it’s true target.

Sebastian Monroe.

“Our brothers were here,” she grit out. She ripped off her heels and hopped down onto the floor, stalking over to Sebastian slowly like he was her prey. Her face darkened and I swore she looked ready to tear someone’s throat out. “Our baby brothers were in this fucking house! As your servers! Not of their free will! No. No, they were being watched. Forced. Last I checked, our baby brothers were kidnapped and they didn’t get un-fucking kidnapped.”

She gripped her heel tight in her left hand, right clenched so hard I saw the bone against the skin of her knuckles.

“I don’t care if you weren’t the one that took them. But you kept them and I’m going to fucking destroy you for it,” she growled, approaching him as my brain tried to catch up. 

“Y/N what are-”

“I saw Sam! And he was scared and said they’d kill him if he got caught talking to me. They’re safe now but Sam and Max were forced to live here. By him.” Her head turned towards Sebastian, his own head glancing at his security team. “What the fuck did you do to our brothers?”

It clicked for me what she’d been saying, what the text meant, why Y/N had acted so out of character. So full of hatred. But I barely had a chance to feel that same hatred. 

Because in the blink of an eye, one of Sebastian’s guards grabbed at Y/N and her fist shot out, connecting with the man’s jaw. He seemed alarmed at her strength and fell back, another guard trying to get their hands on her.

“Get off!” she shouted, kneeing another guy before flipping him on his back. But there were too many of them and I rushed forward, yanking her behind me just as Sebastian got in my face.

He eyed me up and down, smirking at me. “Oh you two just made a big mistake.”

He clasped his hands together loudly as his guards surrounded us, turning his attention to the rest of the party.

“Let’s give the love birds some privacy to sort out their issues,” he chuckled. “And maybe keep an eye on the open bar, hm?”

He spun back around and leaned in close, the stench of cigars and alcohol on his breath. 

“Get your brothers back here or I’ll fuck her up so badly there won’t be anything left to bury.” He gripped my shoulder, too forcefully. “And then I’ll bury you alive in the woods all the while the world will think you got in a drunken accident on the way home. After all you had a very loud and public argument tonight. With the friends I have in certain positions of authority…I can make even you two disappear like nothing.”

Y/N gripped the back of my suit jacket tight, a slight tremble in her hand as she listened to him speak.

“Get those boys back and get those guards back in the next ten minutes or I start cutting off pieces of the damn princess of pop.”

________

A/N: Read the Final Part here!

[miya-akane]

ho, can I request a headcannon for Jingyuan, Blade, Caelus and Luocha with a dramatic s/o. Like someone when the exam week end be like “I ALREADY SAW THE LIGHT OF THE END, THE SATAN, THE JESUS, BUT NEVER A HELL IN FORMAT OF A PAPER”?

Jingyuan, Blade, Caelus and Luocha with a dramatic s/o

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a/n:i must say, this request is very fun to write! I hope you'll enjoy it too zhuwang! And sorry i make it a scenario instead but i think this'll fits better.

context: jingyuan, blade, caelus and luocha x dramatic! s/o (separate) (s/o is kinda childish)

tw:cursing?

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*chuckles*"Dear it's just a paper"

"JUST A PAPER?! Jingyuan. My love. Darling. These papers could fry my brain off."

(okay for context, you're the general assistant. And now you guys need to do some paperwork bit you know it's too much that you think you're starting to lose your mind)

"AHHHHH WHY THERE'S SO MANY OF THEM? That's it I'm dead now. Goodbye honey. You're on your own now." *fake faints*

"Oh dear. Seems like you've already on your end now. Alright then" he picked you up. "We're taking a break okay?"

(name) magically revived now "Really?! You're the best! Could we get some ice cream?"

jingyuan chuckled. "You're just like a little child. Very easy to entertain."

"Hey! But you love this child, don't you?"

"Of course I do dear. Now let's get you some ice cream shall we?"

"You're overreacting."

"Overreacting!? Blade, IM NOT KIDDING THE SUN COULD MELT ME TILL I TURNED INTO A PUDDLE YOU KNOW?!"

"Yet you don't. So let's get going"

"Bladeeee, bladieee please why do I need to tag along?"

"Because elliot ordered you to. Now hurry up"

(Oh what's this? Blade and his fellow stellaron hunter lover is going out on a mission but his beloved don't wanna go out cause it's too hot outside?(honestly very relatable))

"But it's too hot~ I couldn't move any faster than now"

"Tch..(name) darling, aren't you an ice user? You could use your power to cool yourself down."

"And you're a wind user so that mean you could provide me with some cool air so please? "

"Alright fine." He uses his power to help you cool down a little. "There all better now?"

"Very! Now let's go beat some asses love!"

"..we're just going to investigate some people not beat them.."

"Haha,I understand you're tired but we need to get going. Pom pom said that the train is about to depart. We don't wanna them to leave us right?"

"CAELUS! HOW COULD YOU LAUGH AT MY MISERY!? I thought you love me but not anymore i guess.." (name) fake cries.

(Oh my what now? You're crying cause you can't stand walking anymore. I mean i understand you cause you've been walking with caelus everywhere he goes since you're trailblazing with him)

"E-eh?! Babe don't cry! You know what?" He picked you off your feet, carrying you princess style. "This is better right?"

"Eehh?! Caelus!! Put me down this instant!"

"Why so? You said you're tired of walking right? So carrying you is better right. Since we're running late now"

"Y-yeah but you can't just-! Ugh i don't know what to say but just.. Please don't make me fall"

"I thought you've already fall for me?"

"Shut up you raccoon! Just go okay?!"

*chuckles* "Love you too baby~"

"I can't see why you're complaining love."

"WHY I'M COMPLAINING?! LU WE'VE BEEN TOGETHER FOR A LONG TIME AND YOU DON'T KNOW YOUR S/O IS ALLERGIC TO PAPERS?! im hurt"

"I can't say allergic is the right word...you're just trying to run away from responsibilities aren't you?"

"...i can't say that's wrong but-!"

(interesting, now luocha and his s/o needs to fill a long ass form to continue their journey? Damn i felt sorry for (name), those paper could make me cry too)

"No buts, we need to fill this form to continue our journey so why don't you fill your part?"

"But why there's too many papers like?! How long is this form honestly?!"

"Hmm..around 30 pages?"

"3O FREAKING PAGES?! That's it, lu. THESE PAPERS ARE THE REINCARNATION OF LUCIFER I SWEAR- IT'S SO TORTURING AND I NEED TO READ AND FILL THE BLANKS"

"It's just a simple task"

"NO IT'S NOT LU"

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another a/n:this turned out more hilarious that i imagined

[whimsimille]

VENDETTA

Jeong Jin Man x Fem!reader

Summary:

“Look at Babylon’s little princess! Got tired of being Dad’s loyal dog, huh? Decided to avenge your boyfriend instead of wagging your tail? What a dumb choice!"

There are hounds behind your eyes and between your molars. They nip your heels and bark in your ears. They're loud. Years ago, you wished someone would take this part of you out to the backyard and, like a sick dog, put it out of its misery. Years ago, you would pull them away and beg them to be quiet for once.

But now? Now you just watch them run wild and feral. They bite Bale as you lean down to whisper in his ear, and you let them. You do not put leashes on, and you do not open the cages.

“You don’t know me, Bale.”

”Oh, I don't?” he mocked, his lips curling into a sneer as he shifted his weight, trying to ease the pressure from where you had kicked him earlier. Blood trickled down from a cut on his forehead, mixing with the sweat on his face.

“No, because do you know what I became after Babylon, asshole?" You whisper as your left hand, free from the weight of the gun, grabs a fistful of his hair, forcing him to look directly into your eyes. "I'm the dog that tasted its owner's blood and learned that it was sweeter than any bone."

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

Chapter 1: Genesis

“She can't help it,' he said. 'She's got the soul of a poet and the emotional makeup of a junkyard dog.”

—Stephen King

It's hard to explain what it felt like to breathe when you saw him wrapped in the cold sheets of the morgue, his lifeless form lying on the stainless steel gurney under the fluorescent lights. Your eyes fall on the tag attached to his toe—the final indignity in a life cut short. Jeong Jin-Man, the label reads, followed by a string of numbers that mean nothing to you. 

He was more than just a name and a number. 

It's like your body betrays you. That's the only way you know how to say it. Your body doesn't know that it's supposed to move and run away from this hospital before the necropsy crew enters the room again, that the rest of you—the stuff inside—is locked away in someplace you can never return to. Your body doesn't know you don't want to stay there, in this cold environment that smells like formaldehyde and antiseptic, where nothing has changed along with the dead corpses all around you.

So it just keeps growing, changing, carrying you ahead—more machine than anything—but inside you are torn apart by the disparity of it all as you lift one trembling finger and trace Jin-Man’s nose, the tiny notch on top from that time you punched his face after a mission failed. 

But just as soon as you touch him, just as soon as you notice he won’t scrunch his nose and push your hand away because he always claimed it smelled like gunpowder, just as soon as you notice that he won’t look up at you through drowsy eyelashes before he pulls you by your waist, letting your body drape over his like a makeshift blanket, just as soon as you notice that he won’t use those big calloused hands—hands that were so skilled at maneuvering firearms—to wrap around your throat until your ears ring and your eyes get watery because it feels good to feel something other than panic attacks and anger, you step away.

You think about the time you spent together, the clandestine meetings in seedy motels, the whispered conversations about safe houses and escape routes, the constant fear of betrayal. 

But there will be no more whispered promises, no more shared secrets. That was what finally made you realize that the guy was dead. He wasn't ill; he wasn't sleeping. He wasn't going to get up in the morning anymore, or eat too many porky bellies from the street vendors, or worry about amino and bombs. He was dead, completely dead. He wasn't going to go out with his brother in the spring to collect bottles uncovered by the departing snow. He wasn't going to get into fights on the playground. He wasn't going to kill men in the name of Babylon. He was everything like wasn't, can't, don't, shouldn't, wouldn't, couldn't. He was one big not. Jeong Jin-Man was dead.

That night, 13 years ago, you awoke with that fuzzy sensation in the back of your skull—the feeling you hadn’t felt in a long time. Not since you had last had a drink anyway. Your mouth felt like it had been wrapped in cotton, your tongue like sandpaper.

You dared a glance at the old clock above the fireplace mantel, the one that was commonly out of commission. It had numbers painted in black, elegant cursive with golden trim that had a knack for accumulating dust on its glinting edges. 

4:06.

“Where are you going at this hour, dude? Just lay with me for a little while. The training won’t start until 5:45,” you mumbled as you woke up to the sound of him buckling his belt. Jin-Man was always an early riser, but this was unusual. Bale was gone now, and the twins and Seung-Ho were missing. Everything was perfect; why was he waking up at this hour?

“I need to speak with Yong-Han. Just go back to sleep, doll.”

Your only reply was moaning into your pillow, still groggy from sleep. Gently, Jin-Man reached out and brushed a stray strand of hair out of your face, his movements light and tender. A part of him wished he could stay in bed all morning, wrapped in the maroon covers, by your side, warm and cozy. You knew that.

Even so, you let out another groan and rolled over. Your hair was messy, features highlighted in the ethereal light of the night sky. You met Jin-Man’s steady gaze, a soft smile gracing your lips. Your brown eyes opened, clearing away their cloudiness as you fully came. “Speak with Dad, why?” you said, voice husky as it always was in the morning.

“Welcome to the land of the living,” Jin-Man replied, musing. “But, yeah, confidential things about the explosion,” he added, looking away as if the words themselves were too heavy to bear.

You held back your sigh. For God’s sake, you had just wanted to have a quiet, uneventful shift after the chaos that was last night. Still, you bit your tongue and said nothing. Picking fights probably wasn’t the best idea when Jin-Man was already on edge. So you just hummed and stretched out your entire body, letting your feet wiggle beneath the covers instead. You soaked up the moonlight like a cat basking in the sun. Your gaze fell back on him. “Do you have to?”

“Yes,” he said, already rising and clambering out of your shared bed. He had to get ready and get to the old man’s office. Things to do, people to meet, secrets to keep.

You groaned yet again and fell backwards into the pillows, rather dramatic. If it weren’t for your handiness around guns, you might have missed your call to the theater.

“I’m sorry, doll. I’ll see you later.”

The room was filled with the lingering scent of Marlboro Reds, a habit he had kicked months ago, but the smell had woven itself into the very fabric of your shared space. His movements were quick, efficient, almost mechanical as he slipped on his black shirt, a standard-issue piece that had seen better days. You watched him intently, memorizing every detail—the way his dark hair fell into his eyes as he bowed down to put on his socks, knowing you’d have to beg him to let you trim it again or risk losing more of your beloved black hair ties, the slight stubble on his chin that made him look ruggedly handsome, the way his hands fumbled slightly with the zipper of his jacket. 

Jesus, you absorbed him like a parched earth soaking up the first rain after a drought. But, perhaps, being flooded by him was all worth it, if you got to feel that relief, even if just for a moment.

“Don't forget to take your meds,” you reminded him softly. That bottle of Zoloft sat untouched in his leather bag, right next to the spare magazine for his Glock.

“I won't,” he assured you, but you knew better. It was a lie you both told each other to make the mornings easier. “I’ve got the bottle in my bag. I’ll take them with my coffee.”

"Liar…" you sing songed, rolling your eyes. "You always forget and end up chugging an energy drink instead."

“Shut up and go back to sleep," he teased, giving you tickles in the sensitive spot just in the middle of your feet, making you squirm and giggle despite yourself.

As your laughter started to die down and you began to slap his hands away, he paused, his eyes roaming over your naked form. The covers had slipped. He admired the scars on your right hip from that knife fight in Busan, the moles that looked like constellations on the valley of your breasts, and the freckles that appeared when the light hit you just right, like a painter’s masterpiece. He traced the scar on your shoulder from that time you took a bullet for him in Hongdae.

“You’re beautiful. Even when you’re being a pain in the ass.”

You snorted, rolling your eyes. “Takes one to know one.”

He laughed softly, the sound like music in the quiet room. “I’ll miss you, you know that?”

“Then don’t go.” 

Jeong didn’t answer. Duty called, and Jin-Man was nothing if not dedicated. You just didn't know which position of priority you occupied in his life. Maybe the 20th?

He moved back to the bed, leaning down to press a soft kiss against your lips. His lips were chapped, tasting faintly like the mint ChapStick he always used. You wrapped your arms around him like a koala, pulling him closer. 

“You always taste like mint,” you whispered against his mouth.

“Better than cigarettes, right?” he teased, his hands caressing your cheekbones while nuzzling the soft curve of your neck with his sharp nose.

“Much better,” you agreed as your legs wrapped around his waist, feeling the warmth of his body against yours. “I hated those Marlboro Reds. Always told you my brand was better.”

He rolled over, slipping onto your waist, straddling your hips and pinning you down on the bed. "Stop trying to start a fight. You're impossible," he chuckled, breaking another kiss reluctantly. "I really have to go. Yong-Han is expecting me, and you know how he gets when I'm late."

"Fine," you sighed, releasing him. "But you better come back in one piece. And don’t forget to bring my favorite coffee from that little shop near the base.”

"Always," he replied with a wink, giving your nose a playful tweak before finally straightening up and heading towards the door. "And don’t worry, I’ll bring back an extra donut for you. Mrs. Park will probably insist on it anyway."

"You say that every time, but you always end up eating it on the way back.”

He turned around at the door, one hand on the knob, and gave you a look that was equal parts exasperation and amusement. "I can’t help it if they smell better fresh. Now go back to sleep before I change my mind and keep you up all night."

"Yeah, yeah. Just don’t forget. And for the love of God, take your meds, Jin-Man," you muttered, turning over in bed and pulling the covers up. 

He nodded, leaning his head against the doorway as he watched your back. "Yes, ma'am. Zoloft first, then coffee."

"Good," you said, your voice muffled by the pillow. "Now get out of here before I change my mind and chain you to the bed."

Jin-Man chuckled and stepped out into the hallway, his footsteps echoing softly as he made his way to the kitchen. You could still hear him moving around, the sound of cabinets opening and closing as he grabbed his travel mug and filled it with the last dregs of coffee from the pot you had brewed the night before. Masochist. In his opinion, he always expressed that the rainwater in the city’s numerous potholes probably tasted better than your coffee. Yet, here he was, probably shaking the bottle for one more drop.

You turned over in bed, pulling the covers up to your chin, and closed your eyes. The room was silent now; the only sound the soft hum of the refrigerator in the kitchen. You tried to will yourself back to sleep, but the emptiness beside you made it impossible.

You sighed again, burying your face in the pillow. You would wait for him, just like you always did, and when he came back, you would wrap your arms around him and hold on tight, hoping that one day he wouldn't have to leave.

But until that day came, you would endure. Because loving Jeong Jin-Man meant accepting the goodbyes, no matter how much they hurt.

And that should be enough for you to get your shit together and clutch your lab coat even more to stop yourself from clenching your teeth until your bruxism gets worse as you fight the urge to cry and kiss him. He abandoned you. He left you in Babylon, built a family in the countryside with his niece and never once contacted you. Not a single email, a text, or even a postcard from the village market. He had moved on, leaving you to rot in the shadows of your shared past. Well, until the hospital called, at least.

“Miss Y/N, we found your phone number in Mr. Jeong Jin-Man’s past records at Seoul Presbyterian Hospital. You were always listed as one of the primary emergency contacts. It appears you were the one he trusted the most to be informed if anything ever happened to him.” Said the voice on the other end. It was a woman, perhaps in her late forties. Her voice was clinical, detached—like she had made hundreds of these calls before and would make hundreds more.

Silence.

“Miss Y/N? Are you there?” Her voice carried a hint of impatience now, as if she were checking her watch, waiting for you to respond so she could move on to the next call.

Silence.

Radio silence. Silence of the waves crashing against the dock. Silence of restless sleep haunted by dreams that feel all too real. Silence of eating breakfast alone in the dingy kitchen that still smells faintly of burnt toast and instant coffee. 

Just silence, because after that night he said he was just going to take a break, your Jin-Man was gone. Because you tore out the love he stitched in the codes of your encrypted messages and smudged the writing on the walls of an abandoned warehouse as soon as he kissed you a fake “I’ll see you soon, doll” and never came back. Those codes no longer serve a purpose. The world doesn’t need to know the empty promises he built in a life he abandoned you in for greener grass and an honest life. But watch your rage come undone as you look at him one more time before putting him back on his fucking shelf. Maybe in the autopsy, doctors would declare he had venom on his tongue from all the lies he had spun.

Still, suicide? It didn’t fit him. Not at all. 

Burn everything tied to the decade of memories he left you here to turn gray with as you pass by thousands upon thousands of doctors and empty grieving families. This love was useless, so degrading. Burn it all. Open the windows to send smoke signals to the world. Send your condolences and announce your formal goodbye. Let this rage set fire and engulf every corner of the hideout resting on top of the hill. The mercenary in you has shrunk, as has your dossier.  Look at all this abandoned data the world won't decrypt from turning to ash as you go down the hallway.

Jin-Man was a man you bore no love for. His demise was warranted, perhaps even long overdue. Still, there's a remnant inside you—maybe the part that still clings to familiar pains and old grudges—that can't seem to fully sever ties with him. His persistent stubbornness made his sudden death unexpected. It felt too staged, too clean-cut.

Investigate? No. Of course not.

But here you stood, drawn to Jeong Ji-An who was locked in battle with an ancient vending machine that bore the ghost logo of an extinct company. She was waging a war to tease out one more pack of Marlboro cigarettes from its cold grasp. The irony of a hospital vending machine dispensing life-threatening products wasn’t lost on you. Perhaps it was their last-ditch attempt at salvaging their struggling oncology department or just proof positive of how much this place was going to ruin unnoticed.

“Stupid machine. Stupid cigarettes. Stupid everything!” Jeong Ji-An grunted, her frustration making her face twist and turn into a snarl as she slammed her hand against the machine again, this time harder than the last. "Useless pile of metal!" She hurled out the insult as if in a tug-of-war game—the veins on her neck popping with each heave to shove crumpled notes into its slot—reminding you of an exasperated puppeteer and his uncooperative marionette.

The aggressive clashing and grating of metal ricocheted off the cream-colored walls of the small room, morphing into an ear-splitting symphony that made a few people wince.

A nurse across from you glanced over, raising an eyebrow at the commotion, before returning to his paperwork with a shake of his head. A few patients sat in chairs nearby, flipping through old magazines or staring blankly into space. They didn't seem to mind; they were used to this kind of chaos, you guessed. 

The vending machine let out a final "Error" beep and spit out a crumpled bill before falling silent once more. 

Ji-An cursed under her breath and slumped against it, sucking in a deep breath as she tried to calm herself down. You almost scoffed at the sight of it. Like Uncle, like niece. Maybe hate is like a gene; as long as you teach it, it will be passed down.

Still, she wasn’t crying, not at all. She was just angry and you desired to meet her under other circumstances where she wasn’t a bundle of nerves, grief, and anger. Circumstances that involved leaving Dad and Babylon behind. Circumstances where Jeong Jin-Man had taken you with him—circumstances where you lived together in a pastel-hued cabin tucked away amidst verdant forests, enclosed within a pristine white picket fence—an Eden pregnant with fruit-laden apple and peach trees backed up those fanciful mental paintings. 

A porch with a wicker chair and a small table, where you could place a vase filled with wildflowers you picked together on walks through the forest. Inside, there would be a kitchen that always smelled of freshly baked bread and coffee. The countertops would be cluttered with jars of homemade jam. The fridge would be covered in magnets from places you had visited together—Paris, Tokyo, New York. In these circumstances, Jin-Man would tease you about your green thumb, but he would secretly love the fresh basil in his pasta. On weekends, you would work together in the garden, your hands dirty with soil, the sun warming your skin. You would laugh as you chased each other with the garden hose, spraying water and creating rainbows in the sunlight.

You always kind of wished you had met as kids, back when you were missing your front teeth and he was stealing from small markets. Maybe you would have shared a lollipop, or he would have pushed you on a swing at the playground. You could have built forts out of blankets and chairs in the living room, pretending to be explorers or knights on a quest. 

Parts of you were still girlish and soft and your heart was unguarded. You wish he had met you then. You think he could’ve stayed.

Too bad you'll never be that girl again, huh?

“Anger doesn’t suit you, darling,” you said as you approached her. There’s no need to hide anyway. Snatching the ID from a doctor and her clothes had been surprisingly easy—a well-timed distraction with a spilled cup of coffee and a conveniently unlocked locker. So, yeah, no need to hide. You just need Ji-An’s key and pretend you’re innocent. “It's like an overgrown coat. There’s no threat and you’re not a dog. Don’t bare your teeth.” You leaned against the machine, feeling the cold metal against your left side and the chill creeping into your bones. You tilted your head to look up at her. Damn the Jeong’s and their genetics.

Ji-An froze when she heard your voice from behind her. She turned slowly, glaring at you with those same intense eyes as Jin-Man’s, yet they were filled with anguish rather than curiosity, like when he looked at you as you used knives in missions. Her hands clenched into fists at her sides, ready for a fight or ready to break down in tears—you couldn't tell which. But what you did know was that you were right; anger didn't suit her. It made her look fragile and vulnerable, despite the tough exterior she tried to maintain. 

She looked exactly like him. The same sharp jawline, the same piercing eyes. A small pendant dangled from her neck, catching the dim light of the hallway. It read "Ji-An" in delicate, cursive letters. You noticed the brand of her training jacket—Nike, worn and slightly frayed at the cuffs, hinting at long hours of use. Her black leggings were adorned with the logo of a cheap athletic brand, and her sneakers were scuffed and dirty, evidence of countless miles run.

Visibly shaking now, she took a deep breath and slowly let it out before speaking through gritted teeth. "What did you just say?" she whispered. And this time, as clear as the words of a parrot or a redskin whose tongue had been cut off, the phrase was unmistakable: "Who the fuck are you?"

You smiled gently, feigning innocence. "Just a concerned doctor, trying to help," you replied smoothly. "I couldn't help but notice your struggle with this little guy here."

She scoffed. “Concerned doctor, huh? What kind of doctor goes around giving unsolicited advice to strangers?” A single tear slid down her cheek before she wiped it away roughly, revealing reddened skin beneath where she had been scratching herself earlier. Her nails were bitten down to the quick, small crescents of dried blood visible at the edges.

“The kind that cares,” you said, offering her a warm smile. “And the kind that knows a thing or two about stubborn machines.” You reached out and gave the vending machine a firm tap on the side, the metal groaning in protest. This close, you could see the slight tremor in her hands and the growing redness around her eyes. “Sometimes, all it takes is a gentle touch. Can I?”

Ji-An hesitated, her eyes flicking between you and the vending machine. Finally, she let out a frustrated sigh and stepped aside, allowing you to approach the devil in metal and gears. As you moved closer, you could feel her eyes boring into your back, every muscle in her body tense with barely contained anger.

You kneeled down, pretending to inspect the machine. "They really should replace them. My brother works in maintenance; maybe I can put in a good word. Still, I can manage it for now.”

Ji-An narrowed her eyes at you, skepticism etched on her face. "Your brother, huh? And you just happen to know how to fix vending machines too?" she asked, crossing her arms over her chest.

You gave a nonchalant shrug. "What can I say? It's a family thing." Reaching into your pocket, you pulled out your ID, sliding it into the coin slot as if it were a makeshift tool. As you did, you noticed a small panel on the side of the machine that was slightly loose. With a quick glance around to ensure no one was watching too closely, you subtly pried it open with the edge of the card.

Inside, the machine's inner workings were a tangle of wires and gears, some of which looked worn and outdated. You carefully maneuvered your fingers, adjusting a misaligned lever and reconnecting a loose wire. The machine let out a soft whirr as it came back to life, the lights flickering slightly before stabilizing. You could hear the faint hum of the compressor kicking in and the clinking sound of coins inside the hopper.

"These old models always have issues with the coin mechanism," you said, half to yourself and half to Ji-An. "A couple of the gears tend to get misaligned. That's probably why it wasn't taking your money."

"Yeah, well, it's been one of those days," Ji-An muttered, folding her arms across her chest. She shifted from foot to foot and her eyes darted around the hallway, as if expecting someone to appear and drag her away from this frustrating situation.

"I know the feeling. Sometimes it seems like the universe just wants to mess with us.”

With a few more movements, you managed to dislodge the stuck pack of cigarettes. It finally dropped down, landing with a dull thud on the ground. Ironically, it rolled slightly before stopping at Ji-An's feet. 

“Fuck! Finally!”

She bent over to pick it up, slamming it against the machine in triumph before turning towards you. Her expressive eyes flashed with anger and something else—recognition? Grudging acceptance? It was hard to tell with all the emotions swirling around like a hurricane inside that small space behind them.

As she bent down, you saw your chance. Her training jacket pocket was slightly open, revealing the edge of a keyring. With drilled ease, you slipped your fingers into the pocket and retrieved the keys, all while keeping your expression neutral and your movements casual.

Ji-An straightened up, clutching the pack of cigarettes tightly in her hand. "Thanks.”

"No problem. Just doing my job." You stood up and dusted off your hands, slipping the keys into your own pocket discreetly. "I hope you find some peace, Ji-An."

She looked taken aback for a moment, her eyes widening in surprise. "How do you know my name?" 

You gave her a knowing look, tapping the name pendant around her neck lightly. "It's right there," you said with a small chuckle. "Take care, okay?" 

Ji-An's eyes followed your finger, her expression softening ever so slightly. "Yeah, thanks. You too, I guess."

As you walked away, the keys safely in your possession, you couldn't help but feel a twinge of guilt. But you pushed it aside. You had what you needed. 

“By the way," Ji-An called out, making you pause. "Do you work here often? I don't remember seeing you before."

You turned back, giving her a casual smile. "I'm new here. Just transferred from another hospital. Maybe that's why."

She nodded slowly, still clutching the pack of Marlboro Reds. "Well, thanks again. I appreciate it."

"Anytime," you replied, turning on your heel and heading down the hallway. The keys jingled softly in your pocket. The game was on.

[matmiraculous]

The Loop: Intro (TW: Death and general Hunger Games warnings)

World Tour was used to it. He was tired of it, almost. He'd open his eyes and be standing at that podium and hear that familiar count down for these god damned death games to start all over again. He'd looped through them who knows how many times now. Hundreds? Thousands? That was definitely an exaggeration but it had been a while. 

He was so used to seeing his friends die over and over and over. He was used to killing them too. They never remembered. To them, each time they woke up here the circumstances were fresh and shocking and horrifying. And they were, really, World was just... numb. 

It was all because of that damn Pinkie Promise. World wished he'd never made it. 

It wasn't Eldest's fault. Eldest hadn't known, way back in that first loop, that making that silly little promise would lead to this. He's been delirious with infection and fever, and had still been trying to save face and make sure WORLD wasn't sad. World had tried desperately to save him. He really did. And when Eldest was too far gone... He'd asked World to win for him. 

And World had Pinkie Promised. 

A Pinkie Promise was next to sacred for the trolls.

World should have known better. And however many loops in he was now, he still hadn't managed to win…

World was just tired.

-----

Grey was angry. White hot and visceral. He'd die, and death was supposed to be the end, only to wake up on this stupid podium listening to this damn countdown in these music forsaken death games. It made him angry. 

He'd looped... maybe nearing the 90's now. Getting close to a hundred. He was only half keeping track, mostly out of spite, but the days and the loops seemed to blur together after enough time passed. 

Grey would be the first guy to admit he had a temper. It was easy to rile him up and he snapped pretty often. This time though, this time was different. He was angrier than usual. Angry at the Games, angry at the loop, and angry at his past self.

He'd made a silly, stupid promise to win the games. He knew it was stupid and part of him wondered why he even made it at this point. Some half-assed swear to an already dead man that he would win the games, and from what he remembered he had been either third or fourth. 

Not bad. 

But not good enough. 

He somehow found himself longing for the chaotic yet safe days back at the support house, where everyone was at each other's throats but at least they were all safe and relatively happy and content. 

Grey let out a little puff of breath and started through the forest again. 

Grey was just angry. 

-----

Eldest was…

Eldest was devastated. 

He'd been thrown into... some kind of arena, forced to fight and kill people he considered friends, and live through hell. And then he'd opened his eyes and he was just back on the podium again. 

He could still remember how horrifying it had been. 

He'd been running most of the time, sticking with Grey. Grey was safe, Grey wouldn't hurt him. 

And then Grey had... Grey had gone off on his own for just a bit and got himself blown up. By the time Eldest had got to him, Grey was barely holding in. 

He'd held his friend, his best friend, close. He remembered crying, trying to stay strong for Grey but being unable to. He'd grabbed a knife, something sharp and deadly, enough to put his friend out of his misery. 

"I'll win for you. Pinkie promise." Eldest murmured, trying to stay positive and let Grey rest in his last moments. 

He saw Grey's eyes widen slightly in... in horror? But Eldest didn't have time to process that before he sank the weapon into his friends chest.

Grey went limp.

And Eldest screamed.

He'd sat there, cradling his dead friends body, until someone had came by and killed him.

Now, Eldest was standing on the podium again, horror filling him as he looked around. It was like- It was like it had just started all over again. 

And Eldest was just devastated. 

Context: On discord we were messing around with the Hunger Games simulator and a bunch of JD's from the Dory Verse. Things spiraled. Now We have a fun timeloop story that we are so normal about. Art and Grey JD by @ijjstlostthegame

World Tour AU by @year2000electronics

Eldest and Youngest and The Loop Fic By meeee < 3 Next

[kindasleepywriter]

Bird of Prey - Chapter two: We meet again.

Bird of Prey masterlist. Azriel x Reader.

Chapter summary: You try to talk yourself out of a sticky situation, but Azriel isn't inclined to let you go.

(alternate title: A game of "Who can get on the other's nerves the most?" at the worst moment possible.)

Rating: Mature - Minors DNI

Warnings: Story-typical violence, a bit of misogyny.

Word count: 3.3k.

Previous chapter | Next chapter

“How about you tell me yours?”

A long list of expletives ran through your mind. You could count on one hand, or maybe two, the number of people that you couldn’t kill, though you thought that wouldn’t kill might be more fitting. It didn’t matter who you could wipe the floor with if you didn’t know when to pick your battles. And of course, the one who currently had you at his mercy was one of those select few.

Shadows swam slowly around you, rippling like waves on a forest lake. You hardly had the time to blink after you heard the voice ring out from behind you before they breezed around both of your wrists, gentle and soft. You didn’t doubt they would turn on you the second you tried to make a move. More slid around your throat. He had you in his grips, and you were powerless against it. Damn that Illyrian and his powers.

“Cat got your tongue”, he asked, his voice still too close for comfort, “or did your parents not teach you manners?”

The target beneath your hands who’d kept quiet until now started resisting your hold and pleading to Azriel, clearly seeing him as a possible savior. You let out a sigh and closed your eyes as you tightened your hold on him, struggling to keep your usual detached facade. Panicking would do you no good now and you could only hope you’d be able to talk your way out of this mess.

“I didn’t feel the need to answer your question.”, you said, “I have no intention of dying today, Shadowsinger.”

“Ah, so she does speak. Quite confident too, for a girl who’s currently under the control of someone quite more powerful than her.”

Your eyes opened while you scowled, glad that he couldn’t see your face. An egotistic andcondescending man, it would seem. You’d met too many of those. The logger still trashed underneath you, and you struggled to keep him still while maintaining the dagger leveled to at least try to show the wise-guy behind you that you wouldn’t slice this guy’s throat, not yet.

“Were you going somewhere with this or were you planning to let me put this guy out of his misery? You may enjoy this pointless banter but I’m getting tired of holding him down.”, you gritted out. The logger started babbling with a renewed fervor, having had little luck yet in trying to get the Shadowsinger’s attention.

“Let the poor man go, and we can speak in a more civilized manner.”, Azriel said, his voice sounding minimally further than before.

You couldn’t exactly pity the logger but you still reluctantly removed your hand holding the man’s legs, and slowly moved your blade away from his throat. The man scrambled away on shaky legs, apparently deciding against witnessing how this situation would end. He glanced at the Shadowsinger, eyes alternating between the two of you for just a second, face red and sweaty, before turning towards the trees and taking off.

Still sitting with your legs underneath you with your arms stretched out across the forest floor as if in reverence, you made to sheath your dagger and stand up. Before you could move an inch, you felt the smooth darkness surrounding your wrists and throat become colder and tighter, just barely constricting your movements and airway. A warning.

“Drop the blade.”, he snapped, sounding much further away than he had been moments earlier.

You did as he said, throwing it in front of you a few paces and rolling your eyes. He would be naïve to think it the only blade you carried and, while you might not appreciate the man, you did know enough about him that you were sure that was not the case. A show of good faith or an attempt to get you to underestimate him, you didn’t know.

The instant you felt the shadows loosen around your limbs and throat, you leaped forward into a tight roll, landing on your feet and spinning towards the Illyrian. You looked him up and down, your mind immediately shifting to evaluating him for strengths and weaknesses to exploit. He was in typical Illyrian leathers that highlighted his build and protected the weakest spots of his body, but your eyes caught on the seven syphons that covered him. Had there been one, you wouldn’t have given it a second thought, but seven? Either his powers were stronger than you thought, or he really wanted to show off. Large membranous wings – easy target, but a predictable one. Very tall– Slower movement, but a longer reach. Shadows surrounding him – the biggest problem. They cloaked him, making it hard to keep a solid view of him. From further away the shadows didn’t have the calm they had had when they’d kept you from moving. They spun around him and spread restlessly across the forest floor, snaking up trees and reaching in all directions. You observed them for a few beats – there were a lot of them.

You knew that in this environment, with a large fighting space, you were at a disadvantage. You glanced at the trees behind him. If you could lure him in a restricted space….

“Don’t even think about it.”, he said, raising a single brow and waving towards the woods, seeming almost… amused?

Condescending.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”, you replied.

“Let’s just cut to the chase then, if you’re going to play dumb.”, he said, “What are you doing attacking a resident of the Night court? Clearly, you don’t understand the gravity of outsiders committing crimes here, nor what we do to people like you.”

You glared at him.

“I’ve been clear about my intention to kill the guy since we were in the Winter court. He’s the one who decided to make it a political problem, how about you give your speech to him instead?”

“Technicalities won’t save your ass. Be straight with me. Who are you? We don’t often see your lot outside the dawn court.”

Your lips quirked up at the corners. He didn’t remember you. You couldn’t blame him, it was a different time, and you had changed so much since you’d seen him. Still, for a spymaster, he sure seemed to have a spotty memory and you couldn’t help mocking him a little.

“Don’t you remember me, Azriel? You sure seemed to know a lot when we last met. How was it that you described me, exactly, I cannot remember.”

His eyes narrowed, but he stayed silent.

“Ah yes, how could I forget. ‘Naïve, pitiful girl, blind to the most basic of manipulations’. I don’t see what else you’d want to know, given your grand knowledge of my person.”

He tilted his head to the side slightly, his mouth twisting into a smirk. You saw the recognition flash in his eyes, so he did remember you.

“Oh, I see.”, he mocked, clearly finding this situation quite funny. “The plaything of whichever of Beron’s son you had supposedly fallen for. Which one was it already? Or was it all of them?”

“Slutshaming an innocent little girl? Really, Spymaster, what a low standard for humor. Perhaps you’d get along with that band of brothers better than you think, you seem to share some views.”

That seemed to break his cold facade for a split second, his brows furrowing.

“That’s not what I-”

You cut him off. “We’ve long since established you’re a dick, how about we just jump to the chase so I can get you out of my breathing space.”

You saw his figurative cold walls go up again. At least, he was able to get down to business.

“Either you tell me about you and what you’re doing here, or you come with me for an interrogation.”, he snapped, “Trust me when I say that you would prefer the former.”

An interrogation. A not-so-subtle way of telling you that if you didn’t cooperate, you would find yourself in a cell suffering whichever method he preferred to extract information from criminals. And, if you believed the rumors about his ‘methods’, you didn’t want to be on the receiving end of it. A shiver ran down your spine. You wouldn’t let yourself be imprisoned again. Ever. Perhaps somewhat playing along with his little game would prevent any further risk of that happening. It wouldn’t keep you from showing your disgust of him, however.

“What do you want to know, you overgrown bat? My star sign? My favorite tea? We could be here a while. You’ll have to be more precise.”, you quipped.

He rolled his eyes. “Why were you after that man? What importance does he hold to you? A lover’s quarrel, perhaps?”

“Would you believe me if I told you I had no idea?”

“No.”

“Well, it’s still mostly true.”, you shrugged.

“What reason would you ever have to kill him then? Maybe you’re just a spoiled and cold-hearted bitch who throws a tantrum when she doesn’t get what or who she wants. I wonder what he could do for you to react so badly though.”, he said, “Or perhaps you’re just jealous of what others have. What poor lady just had her husband run half of Prythian to escape your wrath?”

The word ‘condescending’ really should be printed on his forehead. He clearly didn’t feel any shame about it.

“All I know is that the man was too stupid to know when to keep his mouth shut. Certain Lords don’t seem to appreciate it when their “personal affairs” are used as fresh gossip. Now that I think about it, don’t they hold the right to deal with their prisoners as they fit? A lord would be allowed to sentence such a criminal, I have no doubt…”

“Ah, a hitman. Explains a lot. And it just so happens that the man was working as a spy in one of our camps, right? Not only that, but a spy that happened to have just recently learned some… let’s say, dangerous information?”

Well, shit. That part you hadn’t known. You’d learned long ago not to investigate your targets’ lives too much; it humanized them. Hesitating in a fight was a deadly mistake in this line of work. You only asked the basics – some proof they at least somewhat deserved their death, what their fighting abilities were like, their location, and if they had any relevant backup. You’d only been partly honest about the reason behind the hit though. The spy seemed to have indeed leaked some irrelevant information about a Lord, but it was the latter’s Lady that had been in contact with you. The Lord himself had already gotten the man flogged for his lack of discretion, rendering the logger’s wings useless for a time, but his wife, still rightfully grieving her wings, wanted to make sure he’d never touch an Illyrian woman ever again, and had decided to take action.

The ladyhad just recently gotten her cycle, had been forced into a wedding against her will, and had her wings butchered.

You shuddered. Another woman’s liberty fallen victim to the self-centered men of Night. Given the practice of clipping was very much still alive, even 20 years after Amarantha’s fall, there wasn’t even a slim chance of the spymaster thinking that was enough of a reason. This particular spy had been the one to do the irreversible damage, and if his superior had allowed it… well, he probably would say she deserved to lose her wings.

“Total coincidence.”, you said, “Never heard about him in my life. The job description was only to do it quickly and cleanly. Well, relatively quickly.”.

He quirked an eyebrow again as if in judgment. He was really getting on your last nerve. The longer you stayed in his presence, the more uncomfortable you became. You were doing your best not to tell any outright lies, but his line of questioning pushed you to the limits of what you could say without incriminating yourself.

“Right.”, he said, “Very convenient.”

“If you’re not going to believe me anyways, why did you even ask?”

He inclined his head. “Touché.”

His shadows retreated from the trees and regrouped around him, agitated as they circled him. They messily swarmed through the icy grass, but the few that reached for you as Azriel slowly stepped closer became noticeably calmer. You saw the Shadowsinger give a glance to said shadows before turning his eyes back to you. They were probably readying for action, you thought. He stared at you in silence. You stood your ground, not giving him an inch. In fact, his attempt to intimidate you just gave you more motivation to annoy him. You didn’t know what it was about this man, but the idea of getting under his skin sounded even better than getting out of there. Wow, you thought, you really were losing your mind from loneliness if this was the most fun that you’d had in weeks.

“I wonder what kind of information he held for you to be so bothered by the idea of his death.”, you said, “I wonder, was it that you simply didn’t want your spy to die…. or did you instead seek the information for yourself? Surely, he should’ve brought the information to you first, instead of running off to the Winter court with his family.”

His eyes narrowed.

“I don’t think you understand that I am the one who will be interrogating you.”

You scoffed. “I’ll that that as a yes. A complete shame that you won’t get his information, after all. Truly would’ve been a waste of time for me had I not completed the contract.”

Silence. His shadows ran wild, some of them darting out into the trees again. It didn’t really matter how many he sent; they’d all find the same thing. An unmoving, purple-faced logger, splayed out on snowy forest floor, blood oozing out of his eyes and nose.

The shadows came back just a moment later, and Azriel’s eyes went dark as he stepped even closer to you, clearly pissed off. A few of his dark companions that had reached for you earlier were now fully on you, reaching up over your feet and up to your knees. They held perfectly still. You had felt their power earlier, you had no doubt they would keep you from leaving, but for now they simply hovered around your bottom half. It contrasted to the ones that remained around the Shadowsinger, the agile little things still whipping up a storm on his shoulders.

“Poison. You smart little thing. Truly would be a ‘complete shame’ if the same were to happen to you.”, he said, mocking your earlier words and motioning to his left hand… that held your poisoned dagger. You swore silently. He must’ve reached for it when you rolled away from him.

“You didn’t truly think the only weapon I had on me would be a couple little daggers, did you?”, you taunted, keeping yourself from showing how anxious you really were, instead forcing a little smirk. “Underestimating your opponent is quite the mistake, Spymaster.”

His hand’s hold on the handle of your blade was so tight that you could hear the carved wood start to crack. You gestured to it as he had moments earlier:

“Wouldn’t want to repeat that lapse in judgment by losing another information source, right?”

“Truly would be shame’, he said, his tone heavy with sarcasm. You laughed a little internally. You’d hit him right where you thought it would hurt most: his ego.

“There’s no way I won’t bring you in now, you do realize? Should’ve kept your mouth shut if you wanted to negotiate, smart-ass.”

Ah. Your mouth fell back into a neutral line. That was why you normally kept conversations to a minimum; you tended to talk yourself into a hole when you didn’t.

“How about this.”, he said, “While I could bring you in kicking and screaming, I feel rather generous today.” You almost scoffed out loud. Generous? What a joke.  “I assume you’ve heard about the very handy powers of my High Lord and High Lady,” he continued, “How about you talk to them instead. Surely, if you’ve been honest with me, you wouldn’t have a problem letting them confirm it.”

Daemati. The idea of letting some cold power-hungry High Lord into the sanctuary of your mind made you nauseous. You had pretty solid mental shields, but Rhysand wasn’t just some regular fae. Between that and the dungeons though… You were inclined towards a bit of a mental wrestle. You weren’t foolish enough to think you could fight your way out of this place, Azriel’s numerous siphons mocking you from where they clung to his leathers, and you also weren’t particularly in the mood for familiarizing yourself with whatever torture tools the man enjoyed.

You did see one way out: the High Lady. Maybe people had fallen for the clear lie that was Rhysand’s supposed change of personality, but you hadn’t. Still, you trusted her character just the slightest bit more. You’d been in spring for a while during Amarantha’s reign and while you hadn’t seen the act yourself, you’d heard the story of a cauldron-made fae giving water wraiths expensive jewelry for their tithe, asking nothing in return. The news had traveled faster than fire in a draught-stricken field and your sources had been secure enough that you believed it. If she was able to empathize with those greedy fishy beings, maybe she’d also take pity on the fae you worked for… If she wasn’t completely under the High Lord’s control, at least. Who knows what even goes on in that palace of theirs.

“Have her come then.”, you let out at last, “Let’s get it over with.”

He studied you, the slightest bit of surprise on his face, his eyes glinting when you asked only for the Lady.

“And have them come in the middle of the the court's forests just to accommodate your fragile disposition?”, he said, “I think not. You’re coming with me to Velaris.”

Velaris. The City of starlight. The treasure of the Night court, only revealed a few years earlier after the end of the absolute terror the entirety of Prythian lived under for 50 years. The city you absolutely hated to your core.

“Not a chance, you big, plucked chicken”, you said, “Putting myself in the innermost part of your best protected city, completely at your court’s mercy? Not over my dead body.”

He sighed as he ran a hand over his face, visibly frustrated about how this encounter was going. Entirely his fault, you thought. You could have been out of his hair a long time ago if he hadn’t meddled with someone else’s business. He clearly didn’t know you at all if he thought you were so naïve as to believe that your safety would be left intact in Velaris. However, it was clear that you needed to see the High Lady if you wanted to eventually leave this court with your life and all your limbs.

You considered your options, but you didn’t see a way to secure your safety in Velaris, if you agreed to go. They could just throw you in a cell the second you get there and leave you there to rot, but that’s precisely what they’d do if you didn’t go willingly. Your mind turned in circles. You almost relented, seeing as you had no other choice, when an idea struck you. It wasn’t a goodidea, you could even say it was a horrible one, but if it worked, it would be an amazing way of finally facing the assholes who made this court hell on earth and sticking it to them. Fuck it, you thought. You’d made risky moves before, although this one might just turn out to be your worst yet... or your best.

The corner of your lips just barely quirked up.

“Let’s make a bargain, Shadowsinger.”

Tell me what you think, i always appreciate constructive criticism or your opinions!

We finally get to see the idiots interact for the first time, and ooh boy are their tongues as sharp as their blades! A lot of misunderstandings between Reader and Azriel, that's for sure.

Banner created by the amazing @saradika!

Taglist: @sapphenaa

[the-night-writer1]

When the sun meets dusk

Shadowpeach fo all you who voted for Wukong finding out he's a parent.

It was a Saturday afternoon as Wukong found himself in the city. He wanted to try a newly released peach chip flavor and he had his mortal disguise on. He didn't want to be swarmed by a bunch of fans after all. As he was walking around however he spotted a familiar face in the distance.

What was Macaque doing out of his shadows Wukong wondered with a raised brow. What was on the other monkey's chest? Should he follow Macaque, man could be planning something. Macaque also owed him some answers any way.

He bought some chips and went to go find the shadow monkey. He just wanted to be safe man, certainly didn't just want to see Macaque again. Certainly not that. Yeah sure lie to yourself Wukong that's sure gonna get you so far in life.

He was surprised Macaque hadn't heard his approach yet. Wukong wasn't really trying to sneak up on Macaque or he'd turned into a bug. As Wukong got closer he noticed that Macaque was just standing in place bouncing. Why was he bouncing? Wukong couldn't really make it out at the moment but he could see Macaque's tired face.

Why was he tired? Wukong couldn't remember ever seeing mac that tired before. What happened for him to look like he was seconds from passing out? Wukong quickened his pace through the crowd between him and the other monkey as things started getting weirder. A mortal woman actually was asking Macaque something he couldn't make out yet. Macaque slowly nodded and the woman pulled something out Mac's bag. Then began to shake it to Wukong's utter confusion.

"Poor guy" someone muttered as Wukong passed them talking to someone else. As he approached it finally hit the monkey king's ears. There was a crying baby nearby, no wonder Macaque was just standing there. A crying baby be hell on the man's six ears.

"Here here sweetheart maybe this will help dear" the kind woman said as she handed Macaque the bottle while his lil bud was just crying their heart out. This was a mistake he shouldn't have brought his little sunshine out of the nice sound proof apartment. That he sold a lot of his shit to get. He attempted to give his lil sunshine the bottle but it was no good. The baby refused the bottle, trying their dammest to shove the bottle away and utterly failing. Sunshine was only a few weeks ago and he was premature at that so arm movement was restricted.

"Sunshine I'm so sorry, baba's sorry, baba needed food" Macaque said apologetically as he kissed his crying baby's forehead. He felt so stupid that he was about to cry. The kind woman gently patted his back as his baby continued to cry. He needed food but not at the price of his cubs misery .

"Hey hey sweetie it's alright, they'll tucker out after a little while. All my babies were the same way their first time to the market " The kind woman said as she rubbed his back. Maybe she could tell this was Macaque's first cub or he was alone and had no other options. She was truly sent by the gods at this point , he didn't know what to do. He was just hoping his cub wouldn't hate him for this," its just important to breathe and let them get comfy. If you're calm they'll eventually calm down "

"Thank you " Macaque said with a sniffle as he rubbed his cub's back and placed the bottle back into his bag with his tail. He just felt like a awful baba at the moment. He loved his little cub so much it hurt even more that Shanyao was miserable. He didn't even spot Wukong's approach.

"Macaque?" Wukong asked as he finally got to the six eared monkey, completely not registering the baby because Macaque looked like he was almost crying. He even put his hand gently on Macaque's shoulder where he finally saw the crying baby wrapped carefully to Macaque's chest.

Holy shit, that was a whole ass cub. Where'd Macaque get a whole ass baby? Where do you think Wukong? That little guy was clear the result of the last time you saw Macaque.

"Wukong? What are you doing here?" Macaque mumbled wiping his eyes, too tired to really even try to be mad at him all things considered. The kind woman left him with Wukong since they seemed to know each other.

"Uh-" Wukong mumbled as he tried to get his speaking brain to work as he lightly pulled the tired and teary eyed Macaque closer," uh oh um peach chips what are you doing here"

" of course you're off the mountain for something peach related " Macaque scoffed before he softly kissed the cub's forehead. He was doomed Wukong saw their cub and Shanyao was miserable. So much keeping Shanyao a secret for his own safety.

"Well it's a new flavor and-" The monkey king started to retort before shaking his head. This wasn't the time to go on and on about his favorite snack Macaque was exhausted and their cub was upset. He took a breath before asking, " What about I help you plum? You're clearly exhausted "

Macaque thought for a moment still looking at his baby, he hadn't looked at Wukong so far. He did need help, honestly he really did. He hated that fact as well he was still mad about the murder. Yet the monkey had no choice if he wanted to get food and calm down his cub.

"Please help me Wukong I need to get him home! I can't focus with him being so upset" Macaque stated as he looked at the monkey king who gave him a smile that used to be reassuring. In some ways it still was without tired he was.

-------

"He's so small" Wukong said softly as he held the cub in his arms. Shanyao had finally crashed once they entered Macaque's apartment. Wukong was now holding him while Mac put the groceries away, " don't you worry I'm sure you'll be a powerhouse bud"

"He was premature " Macaque stated from his kitchen as he listened to Wukong baby talk the cub. It was kind of cute to hear the monkey king talk to Sunshine like he would newborn monkeys on the mountain,"so Sunshine is a bit tiny."

"Well dont you worry Sunshine I've got plenty of immortal peach juice with your name on it. Yes I do" Wukong cooed as he kissed the little cub between the eyes. To that their son yawned and snuggled unknowingly doing what most couldn't nearly knocking the handsome monkey king off his feet.

Macaque chuckled softly as he peaked into the living room from the kitchen. Maybe this could work. It was rare sunshine didn't cry not being held by his baba. Maybe they could co parent.

Who knows maybe their son could fix their fractured relationship.

[hanmasghost]

“Smoke Break”

Authors Note:

Thank @nyxrrl for this fic ong bro

Pronouns: None just masc coded

Word Count: 655

Warning(s): not proof read, Smoking(duh it’s Hanma)

The door to the rooftop creaked open, the cold late night breeze brushing past your face as Shuji continued to drag you outside.

Click.

The metal door closed. The loud music from the bar downstairs no longer reaching your ears as you slid down the brick wall, mentally praying no one comes up and hits you with the door even though the roof is strictly off limits.

Shuji immediately pulled out his cigarettes and lighter before offering one to you.

“You know I don’t do that shit.” You grumbled.

He rolled his eyes and scoffed, taking one for himself before shoving the pack back into his pocket. He lit the cigarette for himself before taking a seat right next to you.

It was just the thing to soothe your nerves. The clear view of the stars in the pitch black sky, the city’s cold wind, the smell of cigarettes, and the purple eyed man who you not only grew up with, but also fell in love with, moved to Canada with, and married six months ago.

It’s been somewhat stressful, but you both had a home together now as well as stable sources of income. Shuji, the guy you swore didn’t know how to use his hands other than then to throw hands, was actually a pretty damn good piercer and got a job as soon as you guys moved.

You, on the other hand, had some trouble up until two months or so ago where you found a bar you could work at as a waiter. It paid pretty well and the uniform was nice so why not?

Unfortunately, your second boss, Sierra, had it out for you. At least that’s what it felt like.

She’d always throw others' work at you if she even saw you taking even a second break to catch your breath. She even purposely puts you at tables that attract all the weirdos.

Tonight was probably one of the worst of all of them. You’d been called in to cover for someone on a Friday, and with so many customers and Sierra on your ass you hadn’t had a chance to catch your breath.

You didn���t even have time to greet your husband when he came in.

So when your break at 3:05 came through Shuji immediately pulled you away from your job and up into the stairwell until you got to the roof where you are now.

You looked over to your husband as he smoked. He seemed really tired.

It was reasonable. He had been watching girls flirt with you all night as you ran around, and didn’t even get to talk to you once. It wasn’t really fair to him at all.

Deciding to try and lighten his mood you leaned over in his direction.

“Hey,” he looked to you with his eyes, “give me that.”

Shuji exhaled before chuckling.

“You? The guy who’s never ever smoked in his life? Like ever?”

You scoffed. “I tried it once in middle school, now give it to me.”

You leaned your head over towards his hand, prompting him to do it for you.

It wasn’t even two seconds later until you hacked up smoke from your lungs. “Wrong pipe! Wrong- cough!”

Shuji silently laughed, causing you to stare at him. No matter how many times you’ve seen Shuji be vulnerable over the years you’ve grown up with him you could never not stare. You could’ve sworn you fell in love with him every damn time.

You got to savor that moment for a few seconds before you coughed up even more smoke and your eyes started to water.

“You,” Shuji burst out laughing, “you’re so fucking dumb!” He choked out. “So dumb!”

You tried to retort but all that came out was more coughs, which definitely had Shuji laughing even more at your misery.

Note to self, you thought never smoke impulsively to cheer Shuji up again.