#I drew these when I had a day left to do two week's worth of finals work because my brain works like that... h

[mrsnaildood]

Tech is tall. He discovered it can be a tactical advantage in the affairs of the heart

Reference image for first drawing under cut

[sweetteainthesummerx]

☄. *. ⋆ mine ⋆ . * . ☄

★・・・・★・・・・ ★・・・・★

nhl masterlist !

pairing: nico hischier x eldest daughter!reader

warnings: angst and comfort, sex is mentioned, but not too graphic!! fluff and happy ending

song: mine by taylor swift

summary: you've had to fight for yourself and everyone your whole life, now you have nico to fight for you.

word count: 2.5 k

notes: UGH nico my love!! this is for all of the eldest daughters who deserve the world :) hope you enjoy!

★・・・・★・・・・ ★・・・・★

i was a flight risk, with a fear of fallin', wondering why we bother with love, if it never lasts

it's during one of your first dates with nico when you realize this boy is special.

you don't do relationships. you're sensible enough to know that romance isn't like how it's portrayed in media because even if there is love between two people, there will always be hesitations and complications.

complications that you do not need, not when your job keeps you busy and you have your family to think of.

there's another reason though, one you don't like to think much of as a reason for your aversion to vulnerability.

you grew up with an absent father and a mother who cared too much. your perception of love had been thrown out the window, stomped on and ran over.

so when you meet nico at a bar and he asks for your number, you don't expect it to progress anywhere.

but he's so handsome, all dimples and foreign accent as he buys you a drink and tells you that you're pretty.

three dates in, he's got you wrapped up in his arms between his legs on his bed.

he's warm, broad chest under your back. you snuggle closer, pressing the tops of your cold feet into his calves. he dips his face into your shoulder and smiles.

the notebook is playing on the tv facing his bed as he fiddles with your fingers. you told him it was your favourite last week when he took you out to an art museum. you didn't expect him to remember.

you cannot believe this man. he's made you cum three times, once with his mouth, another with his fingers and the last with his cock.

and then he drew you a bath and dried your hair for you.

when you ask him why, he puffs out his chest awkwardly, scratching one of his big bicep and tells you he really likes you and he wants to take care of you.

who does that in this day and age?

he had texted you earlier to see if you were free for dinner. you expected mediocre food and then sex.

maybe a few minutes of cuddling before you left his apartment, but he's breathing in the smell of his shampoo on your hair, holding you like it's the only thing he wants to do on a saturday night, after he had you writhing in his sheets for nearly an hour.

you want to run, because he makes you speechless and your mouth dries up with how sweet he is. you're not used to being taken care of, as sad as it sounds.

normally you would be halfway back to your apartment if had been anyone else.

but this time, something tells you to stick around because you have a premonition that even if you do get hurt, nico hischier is going to be worth it.

★・・・・★・・・・ ★・・・・★

we're takin' on the world together, and there's a drawer of my things at your place

"hey, handsome." your boyfriend of a month comes up from behind you, wrapping his arms around you and pressing a kiss into your hair.

he asks you to be his girlfriend during a morning walk in the park, eyes earnest. you say yes eagerly, because you don't know if there's something so different about him, but he makes you so deliriously happy.

so after a week or two of dancing around each other and no labels, he makes you his with a sweet, long kiss next to the flowers that are starting to bloom in the damp spring air.

now you're in his kitchen, words coming easy to you again. you tell him he looks handsome with his wet hair and week-old beard.

he flushes like he always does when you compliment him.

cute, you think.

you turn from the overnight oats you're making for him to kiss him properly. he nips your lip and you laugh.

"I have something for you, schatz ." the pet name makes you weak in the knees, and you're glad he has you pinned against the counter.

he slips a key into your fingers.

your heart drops to your stomach, and it bounces back up.

"really?" you ask, and he shrugs, oddly shy and pink.

"you're here so much, and I want you around more. it doesn't make since to drive all the way to your apartment when it's dark."

you swoon; does he even know the effect he has on you?

soon, half of his closet is full of your clothes, your pink toothbrush has a spot next to his and your girly products he has no idea how to use are scattered on his counter.

he buys you a nightstand for your side of the bed, and it has a picture of the two of you on it.

you wonder if it's too early in the relationship for something like this, but nico tells you he doesn't care.

he just wants you. you want to cry, because no one has ever just wanted you, with all of your complications and busy schedule.

he cuddles you to sleep and tells you that the two of you can take on the world together, and the first time in a while, you feel content and steady.

★・・・・★・・・・ ★・・・・★

you learn my secrets and you figure out why I'm guarded, you say we'll never make my parents' mistakes

you don't think of your father often. he left when you were 13, when you were young enough to be ridden with emotion and the feelings of inadequacies because why didn't he want you?

but you were also old enough to take care of your four younger siblings as your mother took to bed, her own problems boiling up.

sure, he kept up with birthdays and holidays by sending money instead of well wishes, but you wanted him to be present.

the last you saw of him was at your high school graduation a few years ago. you've given up since then, because he's remarried and has step-kids he treats the way he should've treated you and your siblings.

your mother has moved on. she's dating again and you like seeing the flushed glow on her cheeks over facetime as she tells you about some math teacher that took her out to an Italian restaurant.

your youngest brother, the runt of your family, your sisters always joke, is finally 18 this year.

they can all fend for themselves and you are just you.

sure, they still call you up every few weeks with something trivial, but you are no longer just the oldest of four, or the reliable daughter your mother counted on for everything.

and nico reminds you of this all the time when you start to worry and get in over your head.

you're happy and carefree. you go out with nico and his team mates who gag when the two of you kiss, and laugh at your jokes.

nico takes you on dates, and lets you try and cook swiss dishes on his days off.

your mind is clear of your father, until he calls you on a wednesday night.

nico is fast asleep beside you, and you have to wiggle out of his embrace to reach for your phone.

"hello?" you ask groggily. you don't check the caller id, but you wish you had when your father says your name enthusiastically into the phone.

you want to throw up. what does he want?

"listen, kid. I know I don't call enough, but Johnny is a huge hockey fan. I was wondering if there is anyway that you could get tickets since your boyfriend plays for the devils?"

"how did you find out-" you asked, half-shocked he still has your number saved, and half-shocked at the sheer audacity he has to ask you for a favour for one of his step-sons.

"I saw on the news, kid. now, I would really appreciate if you could do this for your father-"

you want to berate him. if he has the time to read those useless gossip pages, why hasn't he come to see you or even called just because?

you don't even realize nico is awake, but he takes the phone from you.

"excuse me, sir, but your daughter has an early day tomorrow. she needs to go. she'll call you back, if she wants."

he hangs up and turns to you, eyes soft in the light of the lamp he turns on to see you better.

"oh, schatz," he sighs, pulling you into his lap and wiping you tear-wet face.

you're sobbing, but you need to stop. he doesn't need to see you like this, not when this was the behaviour that made your dad leave your mom.

he pulls at your fingers that are stifling your cries and kisses each one of them delicately, "let it out, liebling."

he hates that you think he's going to leave you. he hates what your father has done to the way you think, and he hates that your hurting.

seeing you cry makes something primal and angry stir in his chest, because you deserve all of the good things in the world and more.

it frustrates him that there is nothing for him to do, no one to punch - well, maybe your dad - and all he can do is be there for you.

between the conversations about why you're so guarded and the way you pull back whenever your relationship progresses with him, he knows.

he knows your scared, but he's so determined to make you see that he's so willing to do anything for you, and your future.

"I promise you," he whispers when you calm, only hiccuping slightly, "we will never make your parents' mistakes."

★・・・・★・・・・ ★・・・・★

i ran out, crying, and you followed me out into the street...braced myself for the goodbye...then you took me by surprise, you said, "I'll never leave you alone"

"why didn't you talk to me about this before hand?" he huffs, setting down his mug.

you can feel something jittery and hot floating a milimeter above your skin, incasing you in the want to retract, to leave.

your stomach is empty and you want to vomit. you can't look at him, not with frustration on the tip of your tongue.

"I didn't think you needed a say in my career!" you exclaim, and the hurt on his face makes it hard to breathe.

"I would like to know what's going on with my girlfriend, especially if she has to travel every month for work!" he rubs his temples, "we hardly see each other as is-"

"I need to support myself! I would love to quit and be a trophy wife, but forgive me for needing financial independence in case you leave me!"

you scream that last part, and tears are starting to sprout in your eyes. this is so stupid, but there is no part of you that can shake off that needling feeling that he might go.

nico gapes at you, trying to unpack everything.

you shake your head, fingers trembling as you stand.

"I'll give you some space." you have no where to go, maybe your sister's house two hours away by train, but you can't stand the tortured look on his face.

you run out, ignoring his calls of your name until he catches you on the street.

his fingers loop around your wrist easily, and you want to shake them off because you can't bear having his gentle touch now and losing it later.

"I'll never leave you alone, schatz. you know that. so don't walk out on me, please."

you hang your head low; you love him so much, but it's so hard.

you're so afraid to lose him you're not letting yourself love him.

you tell him so, and his face crumples as he takes you in his arms.

you whisper promises to each other under the streetlights, to never leave each other and to communicate better.

from then on, you believe everything he says.

★・・・・★・・・・ ★・・・・★

you made a rebel of a careless man's careful daughter

nico is watching you from the kitchen, because your youngest sister forced you to sit on the couch and gave him a dirty look that had him following her into the kitchen to help with the drying.

she notices the smile on his face: soft, completely unguarded and full of admiration.

she sighs. maybe you are in good hands after all.

when you called a month ago to tell her that nico brought you to switzerland on a whim and you didn't panic, make an itinerary and freak out, she almost choked on her water.

you who bared your teeth at the unknown, who always needed a plan?

he made you so carefree. it makes her relieved that you have him now, because she saw how bad things were when your mother was depressed and you were balancing school, a part time job and watching all of them.

she was too young to understand anything then, but she wishes now that she had behaved better, understood more, just to take a pound off of the heavy burden you carried.

"y'know, I think you're making her a rebel."

"what?" your boyfriend laughs at the younger girl, and she nods seriously.

"she came late today, and she only fixed the flowers once. that's crazy improvement."

"hmm." he's smiling at you again, while you laugh at something one of your brothers' had said. she relishes in the fact that he can hardly take his eyes off of you.

"she's had to fight for us her whole life," this gets nico's attention, "and she's had to fight for herself. we were always here, but we were too young to understand the weight she carried for us."

"but now," she feels oddly emotional, the unwarranted guilt she has from simply not understanding dissolving in her throat, "she has you to fight for her."

you, her sweet sister who wasn't grown and was forced to take on more than any kid did, finally had someone in her corner.

you could afford to be careless once in a while now.

★・・・・★・・・・ ★・・・・★

+ you are the best thing that's ever been mine

you are undeniably sick: runny nose, shivers, a cough.

calling into your job for a day off, you sleep in until your phone shines 2:37 PM.

nico hears your stirring, and comes in. he smoothes your hair and kisses your red nose.

quietly, because he's afraid your head hurts, he hands you a bowl of soup and reties your hair for you.

he fusses, the captain side of him coming in as he fluffs your pillows and rub your shoulders.

you can't remember the last time someone looked after you when you were sick.

so maybe it's the delirium and the fact you can't really breathe, but you give him a loopy smile (the Advil was kicking in).

"you are the best thing that's ever even mine, handsome."

he flushes and rolls his eyes affectionately, and cuddles you close.

your statement still stands when he inevitably gets sick half a week later and becomes a whiny baby.

you love him so, so much.

★・・・・★・・・・ ★・・・・★

© sweetteainthesummerx.tumblr. all rights reserved. unauthorized copying, translation, or claiming of my writing or any works as your own is strictly prohibited.

[landwriter]

Hi! I hope you feel better soon!

This is a great prompt by @academicblorbo about Hob Gadling being the landlord of the Dead Boys. It has a wonderful fill already by @omgcinnamoncakes but I’d love to see what you come up with for it!

Alternative prompt from me if that doesn’t work for your brain: remember the date between Jenny and Maxine? How about one between Jenny and Esther? Poor Jenny is going to really question her taste in beautiful blonde women 😭

Thank you! I saw ‘landlord’ and ‘decades’ and blacked out. I love Hob having them as tenants. Maybe even before the modern day meeting in Sandman.

The Sandman/Dead Boy Detectives, 2.4k, G Dream/Hob, pre-slash, alternating/outsider POV, found family, a reunion and revelations etc.

---

Hob did not, strictly speaking, have tenants. It was more of a minor haunting. Pun intended.

The small room above the pub and below his flat wasn’t worth charging anyone rent for; when he first bought the building he had put a handsome oak desk in there and some bookshelves before wondering who he was possibly keeping up appearances for. Who was he going to take back upstairs that would stop and say, Wait, can I see your office? So he’d left it as more or less an abandoned room.

When he realized a pair of boys were using it as their clubhouse, he didn’t do anything at first. He saw them quietly coming and going a couple times, disappearing around the corner of the first landing. Brazen things. He meant to call after them, but the shout had died in his throat. He’d been young once. He still remembered the need to get away from it all. It was only when he went to check if they’d been making a mess of the room that he discovered it was still locked.

He’d crouched down and inspected the latch and found no marks at all. Huh, he’d said, and jiggled it again, and been a little more interested in whatever clever way they were getting into it after they disappeared up his stairs. Then he didn’t see them for weeks, and assumed they had gotten bored and stopped.

Until they came back. In the middle of an argument, striding through the pub like they owned it. Hob straightened up as they passed him.

“I cannot believe you broke the mirror.”

“I was in a rush! It’s not my fault you forgot you needed Arcana Incantatum after we arrived at the church. And found the demon.”

“I hardly forgot, I only made the mistake of assuming you would know to pack it by now.”

Hob raised his eyebrows. The boys disappeared into the back hallway. He followed them as they went upstairs, too preoccupied with their drama to notice Hob. They turned onto the landing, still carrying on. Even as they walked through the door. The locked, closed door.

Hob blinked. Then he drew his keys from his pocket and opened the door. The boys were still inside. One of them was pulling a mirror out of a backpack that was several times too small for it. They didn’t even look up, and Hob wondered how he couldn’t possibly have put it together earlier. He cleared his throat.

“Hello, boys.” That caught their attention. Hob grinned. “Seems we’re neighbours.”

---

Edwin abhorred getting involved with the living. He and Charles got along perfectly well on their own. They were a duo. An intrepid pair. Best mates, like Charles often stressed whenever he was about to ask something particularly ridiculous of Edwin. They were solid together. As solid as two ghost boys could be. The living, though, were messy and unpredictable.

Perhaps the most salient fact at present: Charles invariably became attached to them.

“He’s sad, mate. I can see it in his eyes.”

“You said those exact words in ‘94 about a dog. At least ask Hob himself.”

Before you decide to adopt him too.

Hob Gadling, irritatingly, was unobjectionable on every ground Edwin could think of. He had made no imposition upon them. When he found them, he only asked them their business, and then told them he was usually downstairs, or upstairs, if they needed anything they couldn’t procure themselves. He had an interest in rare and old books, as it happened. In explaining this, he had also hinted at being far older than his looks would suggest, which vexed Edwin twice over. He knew his curiosity would not be slaked until he talked to Hob, but then he would be the one getting involved with the living, and Charles would hardly let him forget it.

“Do you think he’s really immortal? Mate’s far too calm. Last week I saw him stop a fight downstairs by stepping right between these huge blokes. He just said something and smiled and they backed right off.” Charles lit up. “Do you reckon he’d teach me how to do that? Conflict de-escalation, innit? I could show him some moves with the cricket bat, I bet. Oh, do you think he’s a cricket fan?”

It was obviously a hopeless case, and since the Dead Boy Detectives never took on hopeless cases, there was only one course of action that remained. Edwin had long since disabused himself of the notion he needed to breathe. He had no beating heart, yet when he was startled, he would find himself clutching his chest. Now, he exhaled slowly through his nose in an entirely superfluous sigh of resignation. “Well, Charles, shall we go talk to him?”

---

When the millennium came around, Hob found himself celebrating it with his accidental tenants. There was something gloriously satisfying about being able to make a toast to the next one and have it taken seriously. He’d asked them if they had something better to do - spectral trouble to get into et cetera - and they both looked at him with almost identical put-upon and incredulous expressions.

Hob had a terrible suspicion they thought they were taking care of him as much as he thought he was taking care of them.

Edwin, with his insatiable curiosity and, deep underneath it, something Hob thought he recognized from himself: a sharp animal ferocity and a refusal to go until he’s good and done, natural laws be damned. Charles, still brightly, painfully alive for a ghost - who should be alive still, by all rights, but nothing of this life was fair - who joked to cover up hurt in a way Hob knew too, and glowed any time Hob turned so much as a kind word to him.

He wondered what they saw when they looked at him.

The year ticked over, and technology kept working. Charles grinned innocently and said he could probably possess the telly and break it that way if Hob wanted?

Hob’s heart twinged. He knew they weren’t his, not to keep, but it seemed that teenagers didn’t change at all over the centuries, even if the boys were only sort of teenagers in the way Hob was only sort of in his thirties. It didn’t change that they’d been punted from the mortal coil before having a chance to grow up, and figure out the kind of men they were, and make their own choices and fuck up and try to be better than their fathers, and everything everyone deserved. Hob had made more than his share of mistakes. They hadn’t been given the chance to make nearly any at all.

So they made toasts to the new millennium, to the detective agency, to themselves, all stuck out of time in different ways and refusing to move on for different reasons, and Hob allowed himself to think of Robyn and privately pretend that they were his all the same.

---

A week later, Hob was reminded of the other universal traits of teenagers when he mentioned his stranger and both boys began to grill him with terrifying alacrity. Before turning to his dating life, like ravening bloody wolves. When Edwin had asked, in a specifically nineteenth century manner that Hob remembered all too well, if Hob had always been unmarried, he’d nearly put his head in his hands.

“It can be hard for me to associate with the living too, you know. For obvious reasons.”

Charles had turned to Edwin and hissed “See? I told you.”

Right in front of him. Nobody had taught them manners.

“Manners, Charles,” replied Edwin loftily. “We will, of course, respect your privacy. A man is entitled to his secrets.”

“You’ll go upstairs and rifle through my personal things, is what you’ll do,” said Hob.

Charles coughed to hide his laugh. Edwin flushed and looked away. Hob snorted, and told them about Eleanor and Robyn. Properly. It was a strange relief. He’d told the story wrong for plausibility’s sake so many times he had been worried he’d forget the truth of it one day.

They had listened, and been remarkably quiet until Charles piped up and offered to set him up with a ‘really fit’ ghost. Hob had roundly shut that down. Woefully, not all explanations were satisfying enough. Charles cornered him again the next morning while he was cleaning the bar.

“No, mate, I still don’t get it.” Hob was about to say he no more wanted to be with someone who couldn’t feel pleasure from his touch than someone who would grow old and be taken from him while he stayed the same, when Charles went on, bafflingly, to ask, “Why don’t you meet your mysterious friend more often than once a century?”

Hob sighed. “Adults are often busy, Charles.” Nevermind that he had begun to wonder the same since the eighteenth century. He’d always just assumed time passed differently for his stranger.

Charles just laughed and perched himself on the bar top. “Ooh, low blow. We’re busy too, you know. Plenty of cases to solve.”

“Really,” said Hob. “You’re busy. Right now.”

Charles waggled his eyebrows.

“Charles, I am not a case,” said Hob, sternly as possible. “I’m not even a ghost. He’s not a ghost. No ghosts.”

“We could investigate. Maybe ghosts are involved. What even is he? Why every hundred years? Is it some sort of Persephone situation?”

Hob bit his lip against shouting I don’t know! I don’t know anything about him! Instead, he tried to smile, and felt it come out as a wince instead. “He’s very private.”

Charles scowled. “Yeah, obviously. You don’t even know his name. He can’t be that good of a friend if he’s too busy to see you more than once a century.”

Hob couldn’t see the expression on his own face, but he saw Charles’ shocked reaction well enough. It was so long ago for him, and still Hob knew at once what Charles saw now: that first time you manage to visibly hurt a grown-up’s feelings, people who seemed too old and too stern to actually feel pain, when you’d been going around kicking at them like a new foal, just to stretch your legs.

“Sorry,” said Charles, instant regret chasing his surprise. He was a good kid.

“It’s alright,” said Hob. He meant it. He looked down at the shining bartop. His hands were restless with the urge to light a cigarette. He gave in. It wasn’t like Charles would be dying of lung cancer any time soon if he decided to follow Hob’s example. “I don’t think he would say he’s very good at being a friend either. Truth is, I’d love to see him more often. But we had an awful fight the last time we met. If he forgives me, I’ll have to ask.”

“Mates always make up,” said Charles earnestly. He was such a good kid.

“I suppose they do.” Charles still looked sorry, and Hob clapped him on the shoulder. “Hey. Thanks for looking out for me, Charles.”

Charles beamed at him. “Always. We’ve got your back, me and Edwin.”

---

Charles couldn’t bloody believe it. Hob’s friend was here. There was nobody else it could be. He and Edwin were watching from a nearby table, pretending to be absorbed in their own conversation. Neither man noticed them. They were too busy looking at each other.

He couldn’t imagine spending more than a century apart from Edwin. The way Hob had talked about him and his stranger over the years, it sometimes seemed like they were best mates too, no matter how little they saw each other. He was dead sure that’s what had Hob looking so gutted when he thought nobody was looking. He had known they would make up, though. Maybe now Hob would be happier.

“Charles, we really ought not eavesdrop,” hissed Edwin. Right as he scooted his chair closer, the cheeky hypocrite. Hob and his friend were talking too quietly to properly hear, their heads bent together. Lots to catch up on, Charles reckoned. A hundred years. He couldn’t stop thinking about the number. It seemed impossible. Funny, he couldn’t imagine that long away from Edwin, but he could imagine spending that long being best mates. There was nobody he’d rather hide from Death with.

Hob’s face was doing something strange as his long-lost friend talked. Then Hob moved and grasped him by the shoulders, so tight that his knuckles stood out in relief. The man said something in low tones and Hob shook his head, and then pulled him in for a hug. The man stiffened and then relaxed, and his arms came up around Hob’s.

Their cheeks both looked wet.

Charles swallowed and it felt suddenly a little like he was choking. He should look away, only he couldn’t.

“They must be great friends,” said Edwin softly.

“Yeah,” he managed to croak. We won’t ever need to have a reunion like this because I’m never going to lose you, mate. I won’t let them take you. It was stuck behind the phantom lump in his phantom throat. His hand, without him telling it to, reached out and grabbed hold of Edwin’s. Edwin squeezed it hard, and Charles knew he didn’t have to make his voice work after all.

Then the man pushed Hob away, but only far enough to grab his face and pull him back again, thumbing over Hob’s cheeks, and beside him, Edwin honest-to-god gasped, and then Charles momentarily forgot how thoughts worked too.

---

It happens thus: in the New Inn, just next door to the White Horse, some 639 years after they first met, Hob Gadling and Dream of the Endless share their first kiss. Neither, if they had bothered to think about it, would have intended to have an audience, but it’s a well-known fact that some kisses cannot wait, and theirs was chief among them, being that it had so much to say, and was so very long overdue.

I missed you, it said, and I came back, it said, and Please don’t go away from me again, and I could not.

And atop them, like blankets, were laid invisible the daydreams of those who saw them, including two long-dead boys, whose dreams were woven from the fresh and unaccounted-for possibilities of Hob kissing his mysterious stranger. Another man, thought Edwin. His best friend, thought Charles. Dream was the only one who could have heeded this, but he did not, because Hob Gadling was holding him tight and daydreaming loudly of this kiss and more, of this today and tonight and tomorrow, ever greedy and ever easily pleased, and Dream could hear nothing at all over their clamouring and comingled joy; the bright gold daydream between the scant space of their bodies that sounded so much like at last.

[hotchsofficialwifey]

okay hear me out... mike schmidt with goth!fem!reader (be warned: i'm not goth so this might not be very accurate lol)

he met you while he was working at the mall, eyed you from across hot topic. despite your intimidating black clothes, chains, and eye makeup, you had one of the sweetest smiles he'd ever seen, instantly drawing him to you. you said good morning to the worker with one of those perfect smiles and he immediately felt butterflies in his stomach.

he started hanging out at the hot topic more frequently. he began to pick up on your schedule, too. you'd usually come on Saturday's between 12-3pm, circle through the food court and your favorite stores (one time he even caught you at Victoria's Secret, but didn't go in, for obvious reasons). he felt a little creepy, but it wasn't like he was stalking you, just keeping you safe (this was his bullshit excuse). some part of you was simply magnetic, pulling him in like a siren, wrapping him around your finger so tightly he never wanted to be let go.

after a few weeks or so of this same routine, he got fired for beating up a man in broad daylight, and had to get a shitty job at Fazbear's Pizzeria. the only part of that job he missed was you, but his yearning would soon come to an end. he went on various apps, websites, whatever he could to find a babysitter for abby while he was at work, when he found your profile on one of the apps. you were around his age, lived in the same town, and were looking for a job as a babysitter. perfect! he got in contact with you shortly after, and you were fast to reply. you set up a day, time and location, and the next night you were there, knocking on his door.

it was as if the closer he got to you, the prettier you were. pink lips overlined with black liner, flared black jeans paired with a Siouxsie and The Banshees t-shirt, eyeliner so sharp it could probably poke him and black converse covered in doodles. you were more casual than usual, obviously, but god, you were beautiful. you hit him with one of your dazzling smiles, introduced yourself to him and abby (abby instantly liked you), and he went off to work, the scent of your sandalwood perfume on his mind.

you got closer over the months you babysat abby. he came home early in the morning, but you always made breakfast (not only were you beautiful, but amazingly sweet). he didn't pay you as consistently as you originally hoped he would, but you were begin to grow a crush on him, so you didn't really mind. it got to the point where you two even exchanged numbers, using work as an excuse, but you mostly talked and sent memes to each other. but what he admired most about you is how good you were with abby. you guys drew together, watched cartoons together, laughed together, you even did tarot readings for her. abby would fill him in on every little detail of your night together, start to finish. she adored you, and you adored her, which only made him fall harder for you.

the love confession was unexpected, but really sweet. he had invited you over for dinner before he went to work, which he often did, but after you put abby to bed and sat down on the couch with him...

"thanks for everything you do for us." he blurted suddenly. your face suddenly felt very warm, and you bashfully replied.

"it's no big deal, really. i like spending time with abby..." fuck it, you thought. "and with you." you stared at each other for a moment, tension in the air, before he kissed you. slowly, softly, easing you into it. it got heated quickly, and one thing left to another, and he was forty minutes late for work (but it was so worth it).

a/n: okay, this wasn't as focused on the goth part as I wanted it to be, but wtvr. i'll be doing headcannons for goth!reader later!! for now, here's some backstory lol

[kentopedia]

hi~! can i rq a scenario with dazai where his s/o finds out he abused akutagawa in the port mafia and gets super pisssd at him because they themselves were abused? thank u!

color me blue

FEATURING. osamu dazai x gn!reader — wc: 3.1k

SUMMARY: mori reveals dazai's true nature as a mentor to akutagawa.

CONTENTS: references to past abuse, arguments, pm!reader, ada!dazai, angst, typical dazai warnings lol, comfort at the end

notes: thank you for the request !! i hope this is okay <3

It’d begun like any other morning. Already exhausted, you woke with an overwhelming list of things to do, tasks that needed to be completed by the evening.

It was a typical routine for you, these days. As a high-ranking member of the Mafia, you never got a break. Not from your job, nor the menial chores you needed to suffer through in your personal life. The laundry, it seemed, wouldn’t do itself, no matter how much your boss paid you for all the illegal actions you’d committed.

And though it was wearisome, everything had been fine. The sun began to set, and you realized that for the rest of the day, you would be free.

That was, until your routine check-in with Mori somehow led to a disclosure of what had been years’ worth of private information.

He’d greeted you as normal, sat you down before his desk with his oily smile, and had you review everything you’d accomplished that week. Though you believed you would be free to go within half an hour, when you stood to leave, Mori released an oh, by the way, and reiterated the unanticipated torment that Dazai had put Akutagawa through.

For the entirety of his story, you sat without so much as a twitch of the muscle, but you couldn’t comprehend why Mori was telling you now. It had been nearly four years since Dazai left the Mafia, and though the Boss had been aware of your relationship as teenagers, he’d never given you any sign that he knew it’d continued after Dazai defected.

You’d both been careful, secretive. You never did anything to draw any suspicion or be labeled as a traitor, and the two of you were successful.

At least, you thought you’d been successful.

Mori had never once mentioned it, had never so much as batted an eye when you spoke about Dazai from time to time. Though, now, his grin was much too conniving, the words made of steel as he drew them out, directing them in a sharp point towards your chest.

He had no intentions of going after Dazai, that much was clear. Nor did he seem intent on killing you for your misdeeds. Already, he’d spun a vile web, knowing exactly how to use you as his best asset. With you still under his command, he had some sort of advantage over Dazai and the Agency.

Perhaps, his comments were just a test of your loyalty. If Mori laid that one tiny seed of doubt in your mind, would it be enough to fracture the bond between you and Dazai that had been unsevered for years?

You wanted to convince yourself, fervently, that the answer was no. You’d been by Dazai’s side for this long and nothing he’d done had turned you away. Yet, you were unprepared for the anger that had risen in you, burning so hot and ravenous that you were unable to think of anything else.

It was all that was on your mind as you returned to the apartment, a barren space that had been used for nothing besides meetups with Dazai since the two of you purchased it. Each wall was entrenched with years of as much sin as there was love. Items that belonged to both of you were scattered across the surfaces, but there was never anything too important.

At the end of the day, neither of you could stay there long.

You paced the apartment, thinking through everything that Mori had said, over and over again. An ache of sorrow fought against your warranted rage, and you stood by the door waiting for Dazai to enter.

As angry as you were with him, as horrified as you wanted to be, there were still years and years of comfort and gentleness that placed a cooling balm over your burning wounds.

Still, a part of you had always been envious that Dazai had managed to escape into something good, and you’d become the enemy to his organization. Now, it seemed, you were the only thing holding him back.

In some other universe, surely, there was a life better for the both of you than this.

Despite your affection, you inhaled, fortifying yourself for a regrettable conversation. You channeled your resentment into logic, rephrasing sentences in your mind until they were perfect, forming an argument that couldn’t be so easily shut down by Dazai’s soothing words.

The door clicked, unlocked by the only other person that held a key to the salacious space. He was humming to himself, an upbeat song that had been stuck on the radio charts for weeks.

Something about that simple action startled you, set you off kilter, and you crossed your arms, protecting yourself. You came here with a purpose, and you refused to diminish the weight of the conversation. A puff of steam left you on a heavy exhale.

Dazai threw the key on the counter and smiled, his eyes softening the moment they caught a glimpse of you. “You got here faster than I thought.” His tone was cheerful, and he seemed relaxed, without the foreboding cloud of misery pushing down on him. It was so unusual that you, almost, regretted bringing up what you’d learned from Mori at all.

Though, it wasn’t something you could just ignore. You straightened, making sure not to deflate under his undeniable warmth.

For a moment, Dazai didn’t realize that anything was wrong. He hung his coat up, stretched his limbs, and talked without facing you. “It’s been too long since we’ve seen one another. I thought about you all day,” he said, drawing out the syllables with a short laugh. “You’re always such a distraction. How will I ever get my work done?”

Dazai seemed so happy, and in all your years together, you’d never thought that would be a word used to describe him. It pained you to ruin that, even as your nails dug into your palm, trying to reconcile the two versions of Dazai that you knew.

You looked away. If you wanted to say what you needed to, you couldn’t bear to see the way his soft expression turned into one of animosity.

For a few more moments, he rambled on to himself, before realizing that you hadn’t said a word at all. You felt frozen in the middle of the room, your mouth dry as you tried to think of the best way to segue into the conversation.

“Hey.” Dazai had grown quiet, and he stopped mulling around the apartment, finally focusing all his attention on you. “What’s wrong, pretty?” There was a pout on his lips, his expression already falling from the bright, joyful one he’d worn when he’d entered. “I still haven’t gotten a kiss.”

You were weak for a moment, questioning if your anger was even worth it. A minute passed of your own silence before you resolved yourself, ending your hesitance. What you’d heard had upset you tremendously; you couldn’t just brush past it like it was nothing.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

Dazai’s face screwed up, eyebrows pinched, as he tried to remember what he could’ve possibly done to upset you that week. Though you often bickered about ridiculous things, it was rare that either of you lashed out in anger at the other.

Your expression was enough to let him know that this was one of those times. He hesitated. “I’m… not sure what you mean, love. Did I do something wrong?”

At that, you laughed, amused that he could play so innocent. He’d changed while in the Detective Agency, that much was certain, but you knew every bit of his soul and he certainly hadn’t been purified of his sins. “Mori told me about Akutagawa today. I doubted how much of it was true until I thought about it, really thought about it, and it makes sense.”

Dazai stared blankly back at you, his eyes searching your face for any more context. They flicked back and forth, round brown irises full of an uncertainty you weren’t sure was genuine. He was a master of manipulation, and you refused to ever be a pawn in his schemes, no matter how small. “I haven’t seen Akutagawa in weeks. Whatever’s happened to him—”

You stood straighter, keeping your hands tight at your sides. “I’m not talking about now, Osamu. I’m talking about years ago; back when you were training him.”

A moment passed; he didn’t blink. Nothing in his eyes betrayed him. “Would you care to provide me with some context?”

“You know what I’m talking about.” You scowled, clenching your teeth so hard that it hurt. “How could you do that to him? All those years, you and Oda kept it a secret from me. You hurt him. You were so cruel.” Your nails dug deep into your palm. “I told you everything that happened to me before I came to the Mafia. Every way that I was hurt, and you told me you understood. You promised me, and you turned around and did the same thing to him.”

Dazai held his body loosely, surprised by your sudden outburst of emotion. It seemed he was unsure what to do with the confession you’d just handed over. Dazai licked his lips, wetting the dry skin, and searched deep into your soul for the best way to soothe you.

But the betrayal, the hurt, was buried deep within you, and the anger wouldn’t fade so easily.

“I never kept secrets from you,” he said, instead of answering any questions. His tone was cool, unaffected, like you hadn’t just raised your voice as your countenance changed into one of distress. “You just never bothered to ask.”

Silence. You swallowed, hard, each notch of your spine stiffening. “That’s not fair. How was I supposed to know his training was any different from mine? Should my first suspicion have been that you were mistreating him?”

Dazai grew grim, the first twinge of emotion you’d seen since you’d spoken. He rubbed his temple. “You’ve got a right to be angry, but I never hid anything from you on purpose.” He reached out for you, his touch soft as he rubbed your bicep. “I just don’t know what you want me to do about it now, sweetheart. Why are you bringing this up?”

You didn’t want to tell him about Mori, not yet. That was a conversation for another time, and he wouldn’t hesitate to claim that bit of information was the more pressing matter.  

Instead, you inched out of his hold, gazing back at him with contempt. “You can’t be serious, Osamu.” His audacity shouldn’t have been surprising, but it shocked you, nonetheless. “That’s all you have to say?”

“What do you want me to say?” Dazai held his hands out like you would hand him over a script, a typed apology just for him to repeat back at you. “Never once did you show any concern for Akutagawa’s wellbeing when he joined the Mafia. Suddenly, you care, and I’m not sure why.”

“That’s not true!” you said, your cheeks hot with frustration. “We we’re friends—”

Dazai laughed, though it was mocking, without any true humor. “You expressed an interest in him that wasn’t ever reciprocated.”

You scrubbed your face, drained from his rebuttals, and put enough space between the two of you so that Dazai couldn’t touch you.

“Fine. Maybe we weren’t friends, but I wantedto be because I knew he understood. I thought we could get to know each other well. Then one day, he wouldn’t even speak to me anymore. He looked at me like I knew so much more than he did.” A finger was in Dazai’s face, scolding. “You fucked it all up. We’re just a year apart, Osamu. I didn’t want him to treat me like that just because I was dating his mentor.”

There was a break of silence. Dazai sniffed, recovering some sense of power in the conversation. “I’m sorry.” he said, but it was merely to appease you, no sincerity in the words. “Perhaps my methods of training were inappropriate and unethical, but it’s the Mafia, my love. What did you expect?”

Frustrated tears welled up in your eyes. “And if it had been me? If I had been under your command, would you have done the very same?”

At that, Dazai softened, his lips curling down. The light in his eyes flickered and faded, any happiness in his face muted. “It would never have been you. You know I could never bring myself to hurt you.”

You buried your face in your hands, his sweet comment doing little to soothe you. “He was just a kid—”

“I was too.” Dazai held your wrists gently, prying them away. He was frowning, dark eyebrows pinched together as he looked at you with both concern and betrayal. “You’re going to blame this all on me, when I was a child too, doing what I thought was right?”

“No. But you’re an adult now, and you still treat him the same way.” You shoved him away, putting space between you, never before having felt so cold in Dazai’s embrace. “He’s nothing more than a chess piece to you. That’s something I can’t accept.”

“Is that the case?” Dazai turned hard; suddenly he’d lost the upper hand. “You’ve got a lot of opinions on what’s right. Yet, remind me who’s the one still in the Mafia?” 

It was meant to hurt you, a low blow that stung and went straight to your chest. You hadn’t wanted to stay in the Mafia, but he’d never given you the choice. Dazai had left you with nothing more than a note and a promise, and you were too stupidly fond of him to ever let him go completely.

“It’s so hard to love you sometimes, Osamu,” you said, quietly, trying to keep your emotions at bay. “Your new friends at the agency get to be ignorant about the man you used to be, but I know just how cruel he was. I see him every time I look at you.”

Dazai stared back at you stunned and hurt. He flexed his fingers, but for once, he didn’t reach out for you.

You couldn’t bear to look at him anymore.

The bathroom door slammed behind you, and you stood in front of the mirror, watching splotchy patches form on your skin from unreleased emotions. The sink ran, a steady stream with no end, to tune out your deep, calming breaths until you no longer felt that immense amount of anger.

You knew what you were getting yourself into by falling in love with a man like Dazai. You’d known it from the beginning. He was no different than all the people that had hurt you, the reason why you’d come to the Mafia in the first place.

Yet, he was so much more loving with you, gentle and patient, and you knew that under every layer of bad intent and regretful crimes, Dazai was a good person.

With a sigh, you turned off the sink and crept back into the room, feeling remorseful and miserable. The knowledge of what he’d done to Akutagawa was something you couldn’t forgive him for. It was horrible and traumatizing, but so were so many other things that he’d done.

You couldn’t place double standards on him for his previous actions. If you had loved him despite all of those things, you weren’t going to be able to stop now.

“Osamu?” you said in a quieter voice, creeping out of the bathroom silently, slinking within the shadows.

He was spread over the length of the couch, his head resting on the arm of it as he stared up at the ceiling. When you approached, he shifted into a seated position, waiting for you to speak.

“I didn’t mean what I said,” you began, walking slowly towards him, drawn to him easily. “You’re not a difficult man to love. I’ve never felt that way.”

Dazai smiled, though it was half-hearted, and extended a hand to you. You took it quickly and he drew you into his lap, squeezing you tight. “Well, I certainly don’t make it easy on you.”

You were silent. He kissed your forehead, running a delicate touch across your back.

“I can’t take back what I did to him.” Dazai sighed, dropping his forehead to your shoulder. “The damage is done.”

“I know that.” You breathed, his calming scent wrapping around you, reminding you that no matter what, he would always be your home. “It’s not fair for me to judge you when I’m still in the Mafia. My crimes are no better than yours. Even if what you did…” you trailed off shaking your head. “No. You’re right, Osamu. It’s not fair.”

He guided your fingers to his lips, kissing each of them lightly with the beginnings of a smile. “I’ll never be a perfect man, but I’m trying to be a better one.” Though he refrained from showing vulnerabilities to most people, he was more open with you, more willing to reveal the parts of himself he despised the most. “I… hope you know that. It may not seem like I’m trying, but—"

“I know you are.” You ran a hand through his hair and swallowed, resting your cheek on top of his head. “Osamu, you’re already so different than you were when you left. You’ve changed much more than I have. It was horrible of me to diminish that.” You squeezed his hand. “I’m sorry I said that.”

A minute passed before he spoke again, his breath so steady, a reminder that he was still there, with you, despite all attempts he’d made to leave you behind. We’ve seen every ugly side to one another. It makes it far too easy to be unkind. Doesn’t mean I’d ever love you any less.”

You smiled, though it was sad, but through your hurt you were still devastatingly devoted to him. It was just easier to ignore the damage he’d caused when you weren’t staring it right in the face, a walking, breathing reminder of the person he held inside him. The very type of man that had once hurt you.

You squeezed him tighter, blocking out the cruel memories of your past. Dazai had never laid a punishing hand on you, had never spat demeaning words at you that could never be forgiven. Through it all, he had adored you, treated you with a gentleness you’d desired, and loved you without conditions.

Brushing dark hair away from his forehead, your eyes softened, the darkness in him cracking as the light began to shine through. “I know, Osamu,” you said, your cheeks pinching, warm. “Despite it all, I will always love you without regrets.”

[msbigredmachine]

New To This - Chapter 12

MASTERLIST

“Yo Parrish, guess what just came in for you!”

Turning towards the office, Delilah allowed the excitement to bubble up inside her knowing exactly what had arrived at her mentor’s doorstep. Accepting the letter from him, she smiled as she opened it up and the details of her new developmental deal stared right back at her. At last, confirmation that in just three months’ time, her life as a struggling Jill-of-all-trades trapped in lowly, boring Pensacola was going to be a thing of the past.

She wanted to share this news with her father. She wished he was here. She would share her joy with her mother, her sister, and the man she loved. She’d already shared with the “other” man in her life, the one that had pushed her this far to begin with. It felt good to tell him, even though every thought of him was plagued with this weird, aching mix of guilt and desire all the time these days.

Ever since she returned from her tryout two weeks ago, Tank noticed there was something off about his star pupil. She was still sharp and solid in the ring and the light in her eyes still seemed to shine for this business. But there was something else weighing her down and he couldn’t figure out what it was. Running his hand over the top of his shorn head, he reached out and snapped his fingers in front of her face, rolling his eyes when she masked her true feelings by playfully blowing a noisy raspberry. "Earth to Miss Parrish. Talk to me. What’s goin’ through your mind right now?" he asked.

With a sigh, Delilah took a seat in the chair across from his desk and crossed her legs in the roomy seat. Letting her eyes skim down the second page of the contract where the finances were detailed, she assessed, "It's a dream come true, Tank. The money's a lot better than I could have hoped, especially for developmental."

Tank nodded in agreement. “Yeah, I woulda killed for this kinda money when I first started out," he agreed, looking over the numbers in the contract. "Fifty-five thousand a year for a rookie, even before tax, ain’t no joke. And with multiple appearances a month on NXT? Not a bad gig, girl. Not bad at all."

"Well it better be, it was hard enough to entice Andre as it is," Delilah said, "The money’s good and all, but I care more about wrestling than anything else. And let’s be realistic. I could spend months, maybe years in the Performance Center before I’m ever let on NXT. It happened to the Rock’s daughter. Other star candidates, too. I’ll just focus on working my ass off until they deem me ready to go."

Tank scoffed at her attempts to downplay her worth. “I might be biased when I say this shit, but them girls can’t lace your boots,” he assured her. “And what’s this talk about enticing Andre? Is he still digging his feet in?” Though she had told him about nearly every fight she'd had with her fiancé since she first stepped through the doors of his gym, Tank had always done his best to keep his professional distance from her relationship. Delilah Parrish was the closest thing he had to a star, and all he was truly concerned about was making sure that she stayed focused and happy.

Blowing out a long breath, she crossed her arms over her legs and drew one knee up to her chest. "In his defense, I am asking him to change his entire life for me," she acknowledged, knowing that it was the only real argument she had. To be honest, she was yet to get a real answer out of Andre since they had started fighting over her dreams, and only left it alone because the fighting had subsided and he seemed to be legitimately putting in more effort for her. He worked out with her when his schedule allowed and accompanied her to a few of her matches. In exchange, she was putting in more effort with their wedding plans, hoping to maybe finally do the deed before the move. Right now, things between the couple were as stable as she could hope for.

Tank, like everyone else she had talked about the situation with, just shook his head. "You a team, right? Ain’t that what gettin’ married is?" When she rolled her eyes, he chuckled. "Yeah, that's why I never did it and never will. Honestly, though, Dee, I think you need to talk to him about it. Ask him, point blank, exactly what his issues are. See if you guys can work through them between now and when you move."

Maybe they could. But did she really want to start bringing up old dirt again now that there was some semblance of harmony between her and Andre? If anything, these days, the burden of their tension was shifted to her. Because two weeks had passed and she still had no answers. The realization was more powerful than ever. Her relationship with Andre had been forever changed by what she did with Josh and it was only a matter of time before Andre found out. And if, when, that happened, there would be no more fixing anything.

Especially not with her currently bookmarking the coordinates to a location just sent by said lover of hers, who was back in town and asking her to come over.

Delilah looked up from her phone, swallowing down the emotion climbing up her throat. "And if we can't work through them? What happens then?" she asked Tank.

Her voice was so fragile, like a little child, that he fought the urge to hug her and tell her it would all be okay. "You'll figure it out. Just know that I’ll be there for whatever you need regardless," was all he offered, fully aware that she was an adult and ultimately, her personal decisions were hers.

Delilah nodded, grateful for his mentorship yet eager to change the subject before she said something she regretted. "Thanks. So, now that I'm using a submission move as my finisher, I think I need more work on my core strength…" 

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

“Oh my god, stop,” Delilah panted, her voice stuck somewhere between a giggle and a gasp as he dramatically peppered her face and neck with pecks and kisses, his big hands all over her naked body.

“Mmm, you make the prettiest sounds when you come for me, mama,” Josh murmured, caressing her breast, their little play fight quickly becoming more serious as he switched to slower, much more passionate kisses that had her moaning into his mouth, “So damn pretty, make me wanna go another round...”

Delilah cupped his face in her small hands, her thumbs smoothing over his beard as she forced him to focus on her words, “Babe, chill…I need to recover a bit. You’re a…lot…to take in.”

Josh grinned proudly. “I’ll take that as a compliment,” he said, rewarding her with one more long, charged kiss before tapping her ass and pulling out of her with a quiet groan. Delilah rolled onto her back and stretched out on the plushness of the sofa, watching him slide his briefs back on. The sunlight streaming from the window illuminated his tatted back muscles and toned legs, the scrumptiousness of them making her squeeze her thighs together from lust and seriously tempting her to drag him back onto the sofa and take up his offer for round two.

Slipping into his t-shirt, she followed him out of the conversation pit and to the kitchen island where he was pouring two glasses of Merlot. "This is a really nice place, Josh," she complimented, finally getting to look around since they had barely made it past the front door before they were all over each other like dogs in heat. "I like that there's not much furniture yet. Just the bare essentials but it gives the house a more open layout than it already is."

"Thanks, I love it," Josh answered, handing her a glass of wine as she perched on the stool next to him, his eyes on his iPad showing his backstage promo with Bron Breakker on YouTube. "I can just come in and chill when I get tired of Atlanta. A couple minutes’ drive to the beach, nice little pool outside and gym area. It’s the perfect escape, uce." He gave her a long look. “Shame you won’t be around these parts no more, though.”

Delilah laughed and kissed her teeth. “Not you talkin’ like you don’t got other reasons for coming to Pensacola. And I see me definitely coming back to visit every once in a while. My mama and sister are here. You got family here, too, right?”

“Yeah, but it ain’t the same.” It was a silly thing to say considering the fact that despite her being here with him right now, Delilah was still all about Andre. Josh knew that. Even when she was with him in Orlando, he had sensed that her fiancé was still very much on her mind. But he had to admit that deep down he was happy that Andre was being a giant asshole, that the dude clearly didn't know what he had in this beautiful woman who was going places, that she had ended up seeking comfort in his arms and still was. 

Moving on quickly so she couldn’t react to his statement, he reached into his open carry-on suitcase and pulled out a gift bag. “Oh, by the way, I got you something," he announced. Sliding the gift box labeled Swarovski over to her, he chuckled at the gasp she let out, a bewildered look on her face.

“What’s this?” she inquired, looking over at him with wide eyes.

"Just a lil' sumn to celebrate your brand new contract as a WWE Superstar. We co-workers now, girl," he said with a big smile, watching her loosen the ribbon from the box and remove the lid. Nestled in velvet was a simple diamond necklace with a matching bracelet and earrings, the stones gleaming with flawless clarity. His heart warmed at her facial expressions and her happy smile as she looked up at him.

“You didn’t have to do this. You’ve already helped me so much, Josh,” Delilah insisted, her voice thickening with emotion. “You’re the reason I got this contract, the reason I’m about to start living my dream. I can’t begin to tell you just how grateful I am for you.”

Josh felt a smile of his own touch his lips. “Nah, baby. You did that,” he replied tenderly. “You’re the one who made the decision to follow your dreams. I just…made a few suggestions, ain’t nothin’-”

He was silenced by Delilah flinging her arms around him, her body angling to face him as she tucked her face in the crook of his neck. In turn, his hand lowered down to her hip, holding her close as he brushed his lips over her temple. 

“I take it you like it?” he asked.

“I love it. Thank you,” she whispered back. She would figure out how to explain away the gift to Andre, but right now she was consumed with gratitude, and maybe something else for this wonderful gesture from a man who, despite the complication between them, had grown into one of her closest friends. 

Her phone buzzing from across the room interrupted their embrace. Her reluctance to unhand him for the few seconds it took to retrieve the device humored Josh as he watched her slide off the seat, his gaze fixated on the tantalizing sway of her hips and ass still visible through his shirt that was baggy on her.

Delilah winced as she found her phone face down on the floor by the couch, no doubt knocked off while they were knocking boots. She was relieved to see the screen wasn’t cracked and even more relieved to see that the notifications were only from her favorite wrestling gossip blog and nothing more serious or concerning.

Or so she thought.

Gossip Gworl Piping Hot Tea: Exclusive pics of Jey Uso and his (ex?) wife Tameka.

She should have cleared out the notification, knowing full well of the drama that was about to be unleashed. But her curiosity was too great. With jolted nerves, she unlocked her phone to read the article.

Several pictures, at least six in number, of Josh and another woman sitting cozily in some park. His wife, according to the comments. They were recent pics as well, just last week. Wearing sunglasses and a SnapBack backwards on his head, his arm was looped around her neck with their fingers linked together. Delilah’s heart raced faster, her fingers shaky as she scrolled through more pictures, of him and her sitting in a circle with whom she assumed were their sons…Of him kissing her cheek, a big grin on her face as she adjusted her sun hat...

It was a steep drop, the plummet of her stomach. A dull ache that materialized in her chest and only seemed to grow stronger with each breath she took. Yet somehow, with this suffocating myriad of emotions swelling inside her, she still managed to put one foot in front of the other, her numb legs steering her towards the kitchen in search of answers she already knew she wouldn’t like.

“You ready to eat, bae? I did my best makin’ this chili con carne so don't-” Josh turned around, startled to find her right in front of him with her phone in his face. 

“That’s your wife, right? The one you’re still separated and not divorced from?” Delilah questioned, her tone accusing. She watched his eyes frantically scan her phone, and his reaction told her everything she needed to know.

Josh sighed, reluctantly meeting her fiery glare. “Babe…We was at an event with our kids. We…we had to put up a united front…”

She smiled, the wry stretch of her full lips devoid of any humor. “Mm-hmm. That looks real united to me.” Stomping back over to the living room area, she stripped off his t-shirt and grabbed her clothes. “I gotta go,” she murmured.

“Baby…Dee, wait,” Josh trailed behind her, making one excuse or the other, but she tuned him out, focusing on getting dressed and packing her things and getting the fuck out of there. 

He wasn’t even to blame, not fully at least. This was on her. She had been so enamored with him and his aura, swept up in his sweet talk and his gestures and the dizzying sex that she had forgotten she was messing around with what was essentially a married man. This was the bitter dose of reality that she sorely needed, and she was grabbing onto it tightly with both hands.

Josh was still following her around like a lost puppy; he was starting to babble, his words tumbling over one another as he tried to plead his case. But she didn’t want to hear it. She couldn’t hear it. Swinging her backpack over her shoulder, she brushed past him only to be stopped by his hand catching her arm. “Delilah, look at me, please,” he implored, “Let me explain-”

Delilah shook her head, calmly extricating herself from his grasp. “There’s nothing to explain. I shouldn’t be here. I should never have been here, so I’m going home.” Her gaze fell on the gift box sitting abandoned on the countertop, and she felt like an even bigger fool. She pointed at it as she finally looked him in the face. “And that belongs to your wife. Not me.”

Ignoring the wounded look in his eyes, she made a beeline for the front door, fighting to shake off the burn of his eyes on her as she yanked the door open without another word and fled. Half-expecting him to come after her, she was ultimately grateful that he didn’t; the last thing she wanted was for him to see the anguish on her face.

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

Later that evening, Delilah was curled up in the loveseat watching Andre, blissfully unaware of his fiancée’s turmoil as he threw his head back laughing at a Chris Rock special on TV. For the first time in ages, she looked at him, really looked at him. A huge ball of emotion swelled up in her throat, and she had to blink rapidly to keep her tears from spilling down her cheeks for the umpeenth time in just a couple of hours.

She couldn't lose him. She couldn't bear to lose the most stable relationship she had ever had in her life. She had fucked up badly, but he didn't know that, therefore there was still time to fix it.

"I love you," she blurted out.

Andre looked over at her, the confusion in his eyes quickly giving way to a tender smile. "I love you too, baby."

Delilah stood up and pulled her tank top over her head, exposing her breasts. Her shorts soon followed before she made her way over. She snatched the remote from his unsuspecting hands, tossing it somewhere. He looked even more confused now, but she straddled his body before he had time to react. Leaning down, she cupped his face and kissed him with all the purpose and passion she could muster. Her tongue invaded his mouth, catching him off guard. She had never kissed him like that; it was as if she was trying to devour him whole. Her fingernails raked across his bare, toned chest, causing him to wince a little, but she didn't stop. He moaned into her mouth as she rolled her ass against his covered crotch, maneuvering him so that they both fell across the couch with her on top. 

"I want you, Daddy. Touch me," she commanded, breathless.

It was more of an order than a request, one Andre eagerly obeyed by letting his hands roam over her bare breasts down to the silky material that barely covered her plump backside. Impatient, Delilah shoved her hand inside his pants, her grip firm on the long, hard erection that was aching to be inside her. Releasing it from its confines, she stroked him eagerly, lowering her mouth and spitting on the head.

"Whoa, Dee," Andre choked out in surprise, trying to catch his bearings. "This some OnlyFans shit you got goin’ on…"

Delilah ignored him as she continued her oral attack, sucking his dick from base to head and back down. It was a striking contrast between the tight seal of her lips and the pain of her teeth scraping his hard flesh that had him groaning and squirming from pleasure. A couple of minutes passed before she climbed back on top of him and slid his dick as deep inside her as possible. With her hands planted on his chest holding him down, she rode him wildly, their heavy breathing met only with the sound of the worn couch creaking beneath their writhing weights. Her eyes fluttered shut as Andre grabbed her hips and thrust harder inside her, her mouth falling open in a groan as he hit that one sweet spot that made her eyes water. She opened her eyes to look down at him, her heart lurching when instead another pair of eyes was staring back at her.

“No,” she hissed, burying her face in Andre's neck as she bounced on him with increasing desperation, trying to focus on the man groaning underneath her. She grabbed his hand from her breast and guided it down between her legs, making his fingers work her clit like Josh would do. His face haunted her, the memory of him hunting her down until all she could do was let the pleasure consume her as she climaxed hard. Underneath her, Andre’s body jerked as he emptied into her with a strangled moan, his warm seed splashing deep inside her walls. Delilah shivered as her pussy clenched and unclenched, making a mess between them as they drained each other to the last drop. When it was over, she collapsed on his torso, briefly disoriented from the sheer strength of her orgasm.

"Dre…"

Andre ran his hands along her back and kissed the top of her head, weaving his fingers through her hair. "Damn, baby. We been fucking so good lately, so spontaneous. I love it," he lauded her with a kiss on her lips.

Delilah rolled off of him and stared blankly at the ceiling. Now what? This was supposed to fix everything. This was supposed to bring them back to normal. Supposed to erase what she had done with Josh. But nothing had changed. Nothing was different. Everything was very much still the same. And all that was left was a painfully gnawing feeling she was now convinced would never go away.

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

Things just took a sharp turn. Thoughts?

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[annisassintchaska]

The Little Things: Lewis Hamilton x Black!Reader

Today had been a very stressful day for Lewis as he went through all the meetings and read over all the files that needed to be analysed, not only for formula 1 but also for The Hamilton Commission. He had been off in the office typing and signing away, not even breaking to get some food into his system and his wife Y/n knew that as she had been at home all day resting.

Y/n had recently given birth to a beautiful baby girl named Solay Hamilton who is now one week old. Lewis had brought home his new family just two days ago so everyone was still adjusting to the new addition. Y/n noticed that Lewis had been in the office for over five hours and that he obviously was hungry, so she left her sleeping infant and her four legged brother Roscoe in the nursery and went to make something in the kitchen. Once the food was ready she took it across to the door that had been shut since morning and knocked before entering.

Lewis looked up as he spotted his wife entering with a steaming plate of food and a beverage. “Hey sweetheart, are you and ‘lay alright?” He asked as she rested the plate in the desk before him. “Yeah we’re great, I just noticed you haven’t had anything since breakfast and so I made you some food. Please take a break from all this and get some nutrients and strength back into body. You can’t continue like this Lew” Y/n sighed as she knew how hard it is to convince her highly dedicated, driven and hardworking husband to take a break from anything he’s focused on. Sensing her worries, Lewis saved the work on his laptop before closing it and packing up the papers back into the folder before he drew the plate closer and started eating. He hummed in appreciation as the food did wonders on his taste buds and he thanked her politely.

After his meal, Lewis decided that he had done enough work for the day and so he locked up his office and made his way down the hall, coming to a stop right outside his daughter’s door. He quietly opened the door, finding his wife asleep on the low rock-able loveseat and his daughter asleep in her crib. He went over and lightly kissed his daughter’s forehead before he sat next to his wife, hugging her as he played with her curls.

“Hey, when did you get here?” Y/n asked silently as she woke up to find her husband next to her unexpectedly. “I had done enough work for today so I wanted to hang out with you both. You can go to the bedroom and sleep, I’ll stay here and watch over her” Lewis replied as he gave her a gentle squeeze and a kiss on the cheek before she left the room, bringing back complete silence.

Sitting down in front of the crib Lewis stretched his pinky finger rubbing along his baby’s hand who obviously, unconsciously took ahold of it making him smile. “Hey Solay, I don’t know if you’re hearing me or not, but either way I want you to know that I love you and your mummy very much. You both mean the world to me as you make me feel safe and secure. You are the biggest blessing and gift that I’ve ever received and I vow to cherish you as long as I live. You and your mummy encourage, inspire and motivate me to keep going so much to the point that I don’t even know what I was doing with my life before y’all. I want you to know that you are worth everything that this world has to offer and that I would never let anyone take away the light that reflects from you my shiny little star. I love you with all that I have within me and nothing will ever change.” He conversed with his sleeping infant, smiling at the fact that he had someone who appreciated him for who he was and no matter what life threw at him, he always had his two brightest stars to help him to keep going.

[lilacmingi]

SECRET SANTA

All my works are 14+ ONLY. If you’re under 14 DO NOT interact with me or any of my works

Pairing: Fashion designer!Hongjoong x fashion designer!fem reader

Word count: 3,170

Note: Since December is starting soon I thought it would be the perfect time to start posting Christmas imagines from 2021. Since this imagine originated on Wattpad, there will not be any continuations

You sat at your station, your half-finished sketch left abandoned and forgotten, your eyes following Hongjoong as he made his way through the massive room, collecting different fabrics for his next masterpiece. The outfit he wore was flawless, as usual—he was flawless. His choppy mullet was tousled perfectly, he wore a black bleach-stained shirt; the collar had been cut, making it hang lower, showing off his beautifully sculpted collarbones and that adorable mole at the base of his neck. On top of the shirt was a leather jacket paired with ripped black jeans and chunky boots.

A pair of hands slammed onto your desk as a body blocked your view. Glancing up, you saw your coworker, Minghao, with a Santa hat in hand.

"Move." You waved your hand in a shooing gesture. "You're blocking the view."

"You can stop staring at Hongjoong long enough to put your name in the hat."

"What?"

"Put your name in the hat. It's for secret Santa."

"I'm not into the whole secret Santa thing."

"Come on. You get three gifts, one on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, plus we're having a big party to end the week."

You gave an indifferent hum in response.

"Hongjoong signed up for it." Minghao mentioned in a sing-song voice.

"If I put my name in the stupid hat, will you let me continue staring at him?"

"Of course."

You quickly scribble your name down on a small piece of paper, dropping it into the hat.

"Thank you." Minghao grinned, sauntering away.

Once he left, Hongjoong had already returned to his station, which wasn't a problem because you had a perfect view of him.

You'd always admired Hongjoong for his killer style and out-of-the-box ideas. You admit, you've only spoken to him a handful of times, so you don't know him that well, but every conversation you've shared with him has been a good one.

Later that day, the names in the hat were shuffled around and every employee drew a slip of paper from the hat. You unfolded your paper seeing the name Taehyung scrawled on it. You were familiar with Taehyung and knew he would be pretty easy to buy for. In fact, you already had a few things in mind.

"Alright." Your boss clasped his hands together. "Now that everyone has drawn a name, I'll go over the rules. Gifts will be given Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. We have a ₩60,000 (about $50) limit on each gift. You don't have to spend that amount, but try not to go over if you can. The presents will be collected under the Christmas tree over here and distributed to everyone at the end of the work day. Sound good?"

Everyone nodded in understanding.

"Okay, good. Secret Santa starts in two weeks, so you've got time to shop. Have fun."

A couple weeks passed and you had purchased three gifts for Taehyung and had them all wrapped neatly. You carried gift number one into work with you, placing it underneath the tree before heading over to your station. You stopped when you saw a gift sitting on your desk. You picked up the small box, examining it.

You wondered why the gift was on your desk and not underneath the tree and why your secret Santa would put it there. Glancing around, you decided to go ahead and open it.

You pulled the paper back, revealing a small black box with a sticky note on the top that read: To Y/n. Upon removing the lid, you saw a beautiful pair of earrings and a matching necklace. Your eyes widened as you ran your fingers over the flashy jewelry. There was no way what you held in your hand was worth just ₩60,000. You glanced around the room again to see if anyone was watching, but everyone seemed to be busy doing their own thing.

You couldn't think of anyone that would buy you such an extravagant gift, let alone leave it on your desk.

With no answers to your many questions, you decided to just get to work. You had a few sketches you worked on in the past weeks and had started making a blouse. You headed over to the fabric wall and began picking out the ones you needed. Once you had all the materials at your station, you got to work.

The day seemed to pass by fairly quickly and before you knew it, your boss was handing out secret Santa presents. Since you already opened yours, you watched for Taehyung to get his. Once the present was placed on his desk, he started unwrapping it. His mouth dropped open when he pulled out canvases and a paint set equipped with brushes, an easel, and even a palette for the paint.

You tried to hold back your smile as you watched him pull out the small note you typed up.

You then turned your attention to Hongjoong who had just finished unwrapping his gift. It was some sort of sweater, which didn't seem to be his style. Your face twisted in slight distaste as you saw it. If it were you, you would have gotten him a more edgier-looking sweater, or even a beret. You've seen him wear them before and would assume he'd enjoy receiving one as a gift.

Everyone got ready to leave for the day, you decided to walk up and talk to Hongjoong.

"Hey." You greeted.

"Hi, Y/n."

Your heart melted when he said your name. It sounded so beautiful and melodic when it came from him.

"Nice sweater." You told him.

"Thanks. It's..." He trailed off, giving you a wary glance.

"Don't worry. I'm not your secret Santa." You assured him.

"Ah." He seemed relieved. "Well, it's honestly not my style, but I'm sure I'll find a way to dress it up." He smiled.

"I'm sure you will. You're extremely talented."

He let out a tiny chuckle, glancing at the floor for a moment. "Thank you. So, what did your secret Santa get you?"

"Jewelry. Expensive-looking jewelry too. They also left it on my desk."

"Really?" He raised a brow. "What does the jewelry look like?"

"Here." You dug around in your bag, pulling out the tiny box and opening it.

"Wow." He marveled. "That's beautiful."

"It is. It's my style as well. Makes me curious about what else my secret Santa has in store."

"Well, let's hope they get you stuff you like."

"I'll be thankful no matter what I get." You smiled. "Anyway, I'm gonna head home. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Yeah." Hongjoong smiled. "I'll see you tomorrow."

When secret Santa day two rolled around, you placed your present for Taehyung underneath the tree and headed to your work station as per usual.

Sitting on your desk was a sizable box wrapped in metallic deep blue wrapping, a white bow on top. You placed your hand over your mouth, glancing around the workplace. You lifted the small tag on the box, reading the writing on it.

I don't like following rules.

- Your Secret Santa

You debated about wether you wanted to open it right away or just wait. After debating for a moment, you decided to hold off and be patient. However, you found it hard to concentrate as you worked on the blouse. Your eyes kept drifting over to the shiny gift sitting on your desk.

Whoever has been leaving presents at your workspace seems to be a risk-taker, as they're coming in and leaving the gift, chancing getting caught by someone. You could only assume they were arriving before everyone else and making sure no one saw them.

"Ooh." You heard someone say.

You placed your needle onto your desk, turning to see no other than Minghao.

"What?" You asked.

"That shiny gift on your desk." He pointed with a grin.

"It's from my secret Santa."

"Why didn't they put it under the tree?"

"Beats me." You shrugged.

"You're not opening it now?"

"No. I opened the first one as soon as I came into work Monday, but I'm holding back for this one."

"You sure?" Minghao asked.

"Yes, I'm sure. I'm gonna be patient."

"Okay, then. Good luck with your blouse." He waved, returning to his own work station.

The end of the work day approached and it was time for secret Santa once again.

You watched as everyone's gifts were handed out, deciding to watch Taehyung open his again.

You knew how much Taehyung loved his dog, Yeontan, so today's gift was a matching top you made for him and his beloved pet. You used beautiful brown and beige printed fabric and made a button down shirt and a mini version for Yeontan. A bright and brilliant boxy smile spread across Taehyung's features as he saw his gift. You couldn't hold back your own bright smile as you saw his reaction. It made you feel like you'd done a pretty good job of choosing his gifts thus far.

After seeing Taehyung open his gift you went to open yours. Unlike Monday's gift, this one didn't have to be unwrapped. The box and lid itself were wrapped separately so all you had to do was remove the top. Upon removing the lid, you saw a pair of heels. They were black suede platforms with a block heel. There were two straps on them; one strap to go across the toes and one to buckle around the ankle. They were simple, but beautiful and seemed like they'd be easy to walk in, which was perfect for you.

You lifted one of the shoes from the box, examining it and checking the size.

"These are my size." You muttered to yourself.

Placing the shoe back into the box, you put the lid on it and began to gather your things.

You were going to say goodbye to Hongjoong, but he was already gone.

Secret Santa day three rolled around and you weren't sure what else to expect. Your secret Santa had gotten you a stunning set of jewelry and an adorable pair of heels. You weren't sure what would be next.

When you arrived at work, you weren't surprised to see yet another gift sitting on your desk. Today's gift was in a long, flat box and it was wrapped in beautiful glittery red paper with white snowflakes printed all over it. Since it was the last day of secret Santa you decided to wait again to open your gift.

Today proved to be more difficult than the others. You kept glancing over at the present waiting for the work day to end.

Hours passed and your patience paid off. Your boss emerged from his office with a warm smile on his face.

"Alright. As everyone knows today is the last day of secret Santa. I'll start handing gifts out shortly, but first I want to remind everyone of the Christmas party that we're having tonight. It starts at 7:00 and it'll take place at a wonderful venue down the street. They have a huge room that we've rented out for this party. I hope to see you all there."

Like all the other days, you watched Taehyung open his present before you opened yours. For his last gift, you got him a diamond painting kit of Van Gogh's Starry Night. It was a fun little thing he could do during his free time, plus you knew Taehyung loved Van Gogh. After watching his reaction, you turned your attention to your own secret Santa gift.

You pulled back the decorative wrapping revealing a clothing box. You discarded the wrapping paper and opened up the box. Inside was a stunning dress in your favorite color. On top of the formal clothing was a note that read:

Meet me outside under the gazebo at 8:00. Wear all your gifts, please.

- Your Secret Santa

You pressed your lips together, trying to suppress the smile that threatened to break out onto your features. You pulled the dress from the box, getting a better look at it. The garment was medium length, not too short but not long enough to drag the floor. It was a simple dress, but stunning nonetheless. You placed it back into its box and went to chat with Taehyung before he left. You wanted to tell him that you were his secret Santa.

"Taehyung." You called.

He looked up at you with a warm smile.

"Hi, Y/n."

"I just wanted to let you know that I was your secret Santa."

A look of surprise flashed across his face.

"Really? It was you?"

"Mhm." You nodded.

He pulled you into a tight hug. "Thank you. Everything was perfect, especially the matching shirts for me and Tannie."

"I'm really glad you liked it."

He pulled away and ruffled your hair slightly. "I'm gonna head home now. I'll see you at the party tonight."

"See ya." You waved, heading back to your station to pack up.

To your surprise, Hongjoong was standing by your work area waiting for you when you turned around.

"Hey, Y/n." He greeted you.

"Hi, Hongjoong."

"I was wondering if you wanted to walk out together."

"Oh, sure." You placed your bag onto your shoulder and walked out with him.

"Are you coming to the Christmas party tonight?" He asked.

"I am. Are you?"

"Yeah." He nodded. "I'm excited."

"Me too." You smiled, trying to hide your elation.

Hongjoong walked you to your car and bid you goodbye, saying that he would see you at the party.

You arrived at the venue just before 7:00. The building was decked out in bright Christmas lights, wreaths were hung on the windows giving the place a warm and festive feel. Upon entering the building you heard Christmas music being played, accompanied by the low murmur of partygoers chatting.

Your hair was styled perfectly and your makeup was done with a festive theme in mind. You also donned all of the gifts from your secret Santa. The dress, surprisingly, fit you perfectly, as did the shoes. Whoever got them for you knew exactly what they were doing.

You hadn't really considered who your secret Santa could be. You were just so giddy about your anonymous gift giver wanting to meet, you didn't really think about it.

You first stopped at the food and refreshments table to get yourself a glass of punch. You then made your way around the room greeting your coworkers and even danced with Taehyung for a bit. Before you knew it, it was 8:00. Your heart jumped when you glanced at the clock.

It was time to meet your secret Santa.

You made your way to one of the side doors and stepped outside. A concrete landing sat just outside the door, beyond that was a stone path that led to a gazebo. You could see someone standing there, but you were too far away to know who it was. Stepping across the stone path you moved closer to the gazebo, the quiet gasp leaving you when you saw who it was.

"Hongjoong?"

He turned around with a grin on his face.

You had to stop for a moment because he looks so handsome. His hair looked beautiful as always. His bangs were styled in a side part and pushed away from his face, showing off his perfect brows and sharp eyes. His outfit was pristine and high-end. He sported a very nice suit with a large, extravagant fur coat. It was typical Hongjoong attire.

"I'm glad I got your measurements right." He spoke, eyeing your dress.

"You made this?"

"I did."

"You're my secret Santa?"

"I am." He nodded with a shy smile.

You couldn't believe it. Out of all the people that could've been your secret Santa it was your crush.

"Everything you got me was so beautiful." You told him. "It was all perfect."

"I'm glad you liked it. I went a little over the price limit, but like I said, I don't like following rules." He smirked.

His hand extended to you, his rings glimmering under the fairly lights strung up. You took hold, allowing him to lead you all the way under the gazebo.

"This is... really romantic." You commented.

"Good."

His answer surprised you a bit.

He meant for it to be romantic?

"I'm sure you're wondering why I wanted you to wear the things I gifted you." He spoke up.

"Sort of."

"I began planning this the day our boss made the announcement for secret Santa. The jewelry, the shoes, the dress, and meeting up with you right here tonight."

"Why would you plan something so wonderful like this for me?"

"Because I like you, Y/n."

"I'm sorry? Did I hear you correctly?" You asked in disbelief.

"You did." He chuckled. "I've liked you for so long, but I wasn't sure you felt the same. That is until I caught you staring at me from across the room... more than once."

You face dropped, your cheeks becoming hot.

"You have?"

"Yes, and I find it adorable. I find you adorable." He emphasized.

"You do?"

He nodded.

All you could do was stare in disbelief, unable to comprehend what in the world was happening.

Hongjoong's sparkly eyes darted down to your lips before he started leaning in, causing your breathing to quicken. His lips came to a stop just centimeters from yours.

"Look up." He whispered, his minty breath fanning against your cheeks.

You did as he said and glanced above you to see a mistletoe hanging from the wooden beams of the gazebo.

"Oh." Was all you could say as you turned your gaze back to Hongjoong.

He wasted no time closing the gap between your mouths, pressing his lips against yours firmly. His hands found their way to your waist running up and down your sides before his arms slid their way around you, tugging you closer to him. Your hands trailed up to his hair, your fingers playing with the long strands of his mullet, carding your fingers through it.

A hum of satisfaction from Hongjoong vibrated against your lips as his head tilted to the side, deepening the kiss.

It was a little cold outside, but with the steamy kiss you were sharing with Hongjoong, you weren't able to feel the frigid chill in the air. In fact, your whole body was getting warmer by the second.

After parting ways Hongjoong let out a chuckle. "That was so worth it."

"What?" You giggled.

"Hanging up that mistletoe." He answered. "It took me forever to get it up there, but all that hard work paid off."

"Yes it did." You agreed.

He looked at you with a fond expression, his hand coming up to brush a strand of hair from your face.

"Merry Christmas, Y/n."

"Merry Christmas, Hongjoong."

"Should we go back inside and join the party? Sounds like they're playing some good music."

"Let's do it."

Seonghwa ❄︎ Yunho ❄︎ Yeosang ❄︎ San ❄︎ Mingi ❄︎ Wooyoung ❄︎ Jongho

Masterlist ᝰ — enjoyed this imagine? reblogs & comments are very much appreciated!

DO NOT steal, plagiarize, copy, repost, alter, or translate my works in any way

[unreliablesnake]

Is it in your DNA? (Phillip Graves x ofc)

Summary: Graves wants to find out who is his bio-dad. But when he finds out, the man isn’t exactly welcoming.

Note: Based on this post by @gravesrafe. You’re a genius, I hope you don’t mind that I wrote this. / The OFC is called April. / Maybe this is a part one. Idk. / The mistakes you might find in this are completely unintentional, I swear.

Until now, Phillip had been staying in his house, always keeping an eye on what was happening in the outside world and at Shadow Company, and getting ready for the perfect moment to return. His girlfriend kept him entertained most of the time, but when she left for a few days to visit her father who had just broken a leg, he realized that his thoughts could get quite wild when he was on his own.

She was really close to her dad, he had seen this several times with his own eyes, and this made him think. He never knew his father. His mother never talked about him, always avoided the topic when he asked, so around the age of twelve he gave up trying.

But now as an adult maybe it was time to find out. Maybe he could use his wealth and connections to hire the best private investigator available to find his father. So once he made up his mind, he made a few calls and soon found who he was looking for thanks to a friend.

“Thank you for coming here on such short notice,” said Phillip as they sat down in the living room.

The man flashed a polite smile at him as he leaned forwards on the sofa. “It's only natural, Mr. Graves, I know how busy you are, and it must be important.”

Clearing his throat, Phillip leaned back in the armchair and stretched his fingers on the armrest. “Well, it's a personal issue.”

“Your girlfriend?”

He couldn't help but laugh. He trusted her more than anyone, he didn't have a reason to start an investigation about her. “It's my father. I never knew him, but I think it's time to find him with your help,” he said after a short break.

The man thought for a second. “Is your mother still alive?” he asked.

“If you want to know if I’ve ever tried to ask her, then the answer is yes, I have. Several times. But she’s stubborn and doesn’t want me to know for some reason.”

“I see.”

That was all he said. Phillip thought he would refuse to work for him, saying it either wasn't worth his time or energy, or was a case that wasn't the kind he would normally pick to work on. But the silence stretched even longer, causing him to shift in his seat from the anxiety that was beginning to take over his mind.

And he wasn't the type to be anxious. The last time he felt that way had been a bit over a year ago, when his girlfriend got into a car accident. It was pure luck that he wasn't away on a mission at the time, so the moment he got the call from the hospital, he told everyone to man up and handle things without him for a week or two.

He wished April was there with him now. Just taking her hand, feeling the soft skin and warmth would have made him feel a lot better. But she wasn't here now, and he had to handle this on his own. After what felt like an eternity, he cleared his throat to prepare for the question that had been on his mind for a while.

“Have you even tried to find him on your own?” the man suddenly asked, surprising Phillip. “I know about your company, I'm sure you have the resources and connections to manage on your own.”

“I'd rather have someone else do it,” came the honest response.

The private investigator suddenly stood up and dusted off his dress shirt before straightening his tie. “All right. I'll get to work tomorrow and get back to you once I know something about him.”

“Thank you,” was all Phillip said as he shook his hand.

Two days after this conversation his girlfriend finally returned, and she was extremely interested in his sudden urge to find this father he had never known. As they were lying in bed with her head resting on his chest, she drew circles into his skin as she kept asking him questions about the man he hired.

“Do you think he will find your father?” she asked quietly.

Phillip gulped at the thought. It's not like he hadn't thought of the possibility of the private investigator failing to do this simple task. Because how hard could finding one man be? “I'm sure he will,” he replied eventually.

She rested her chin on his shoulder as she looked up at him. “You don't sound too sure,” she pointed out, to which he only responded with a groan. “Okay, okay, I'll let you off the hook.”

“Have you talked to your dad since you got home? Is he okay alone?” he asked before gently kissing the crown of her head.

A sigh left her lips, then she simply turned on her back and looked up at the ceiling. “You know how stubborn he can be. His neighbor offered to help, I offered to hire someone to help, but he keeps saying he can manage on his own,” April replied, her tone giving away that she was tired of her father’s nonsense.

He couldn’t blame her for feeling like this, after all he had gone through the same thing with his mother after she had a surgery. Sometimes he joked that they should be together, maybe this would benefit them, but he knew neither of them would be happy.

Days passed painfully slowly, each feeling longer than the last, making him believe the private investigator got to a dead end. But then his phone rang, and he saw his name on the screen. “I was beginning to think you found nothing,” he admitted after the suggestion to meet for dinner later that night.

Phillip didn’t want company, so he reserved a private room in a fancy restaurant he often took his girlfriend to. The man arrived on time, as if he had waited outside until the very last minute. “As I said on the phone, I have good news, Mr. Graves,” he began as they settled down. He took out a thin file that he set down between them. “I found your father, although I must warn you; he’s a very private man.”

“But you still found some things, right?”

“Yes. His name is Russell Adler,” he began as he opened the file and handed his client a photo from the top. “He works for the CIA. I had to pull a few strings to get this information, but I’m positive that this is the case.”

As he picked up the picture, Phillip took a good look at the man. He looked similar to him, even had a nasty scar on his face like he did. Well, his scar apparently wasn’t nasty, at least his girlfriend always said she loved it about his face. A smile crept on his face at the thought of her, but he quickly regained his composure and looked up at the other man.

“How in the hell did my mother meet someone like him?” he asked, already afraid that the answer would be a drunken night out.

“Your mother lived in the same building for a short time. I don’t exactly know the full story, but they had a fleeting relationship,” he explained. “From what I’ve heard, your mother never told him she was pregnant. He went on a mission, disappeared for months, then by the time he returned, your mother was already gone from that apartment building.”

The Shadow put down the photo and reached for the whole file instead. “So my mom didn’t want him to know, huh? I wonder why that is.”

“He’s… difficult. I talked to a few people he used to know, and they all said the same thing. He lived for his job. He’s known for being a true patriot, always putting the best interest of this country before his own.”

“Sounds just like you,” his girlfriend noted when he told her everything later that night. They were sitting on the couch with her head on his thighs, his hands buried into her hair as they talked. “Do you want to meet him?”

“I don’t know,” Phillip admitted. “He has no idea I exist. And if he was already working for the CIA when Mom got pregnant, then he could have easily found her after he returned from that mission. But he didn’t care enough to look for her.”

April reached for his hand that was resting on his stomach and raised it to her lips. “But what if he would be glad to find out he has a son? You’re successful, intelligent, and so stupidly handsome.” He couldn’t help but laugh at this. “You should give it a try.”

The smile that stayed on his lips grew wider when she sat up and turned around to kiss him. If his men knew how smitten he was with her at home, they would probably make jokes about him behind his back. But he didn’t care, not as long as they were together. She made him a better person, made him see things in a different light most of the time.

Even now she managed to convince him to meet that man. “But you’re coming with me,” he told her before kissing the tip of her nose.

And so a few days later they were sitting in a rental car outside the man’s house. Phillip was gripping the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles turned white, but he loosened up a little when she put a hand on his shoulder to give it a gentle squeeze.

“Listen, I know I said you should do this, but if you changed your mind–”

He shook his head immediately. “No, no, it’s okay, I’m ready.”

She didn’t find him convincing enough, but she nodded nonetheless. They got out of the car and walked up to the front door, which to their surprise opened before they could even knock. There was the man from the photos right in front of them, eyeing the pair with a suspicious look on his face.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Adler,” Phillip said with a nod.

“Do we know each other?”

He took a deep breath before pulling out an old photo of his mother from the inner pocket of his jacket. “Do you know her? Her name is Mary Graves,” he said, carefully examining the man’s facial expressions. There was a glint in his eyes, something that told him he recognized her. “So?”

Adler let out a sigh, his eyes narrowing. “Don’t be mistaken, I know who you are, Mr. Graves. The Shadow himself,” he began. “I assume that woman is your mother.”

“You never answered my question.”

“I used to know her, yes,” the older man said as he folded his arms over his chest. “Based on your possible age and the time I knew her, my best guess is that you believe I’m your father.”

“I hired someone to look into this issue, he was the one who found you. Look, I know it was my mother who left, and she never said anything bad about my father. She just… avoided the topic, especially after moving in with my stepfather,” Phillip explained as he put away the photo that was given back to him. “All I want is to get to know my bio-dad.”

As Adler took a better look at the man who claimed to be his son, Phillip absentmindedly reached out to take his girlfriend’s hand, fingers tightly laced with hers while they waited. “You’ll need a DNA test to prove this,” he finally spoke up.

Phillip couldn’t stop the laugh that escaped his lips. “Of course. I was expecting this answer,” he said eventually. “I’ll arrange everything, you just have to be at home when they come for the sample if you agree.”

After a nod, the man turned to look at the woman on his alleged son’s side. “And who is she?” he asked.

“My girlfriend. She was the one who convinced me to come and talk to you.”

“I’m April,” she said with her usual kind smile as she extended a hand. “It’s nice to meet you.”

For the first time since they arrived, Adler’s lips curled into a smile. “Likewise. But as pleasant as this conversation is, I’d rather not invite you in yet. Let’s wait for the result of that test,” he said, his expression gradually turning into a condescending one as he turned to the other man again.

Phillip nodded. “That’s understandable. They will give you a call to arrange an appointment. See you later if the test proves it’s true. If not, then this is the last time you see me.”

“Have a nice trip back home,” was all he said before closing the door.

The two of them got back in the car, and Phillip began to drive towards the airport without saying a word. His girlfriend tried to talk, first about neutral things, like what they should eat for dinner or how they could go and spend the following weekend in his lake house. But he didn’t seem interested in any of these topics so she gave up and stepped back to give him some time to figure out how to say what was on his mind.

And sure enough, about half an hour later he licked his lips and said, “I can’t believe that guy. He didn’t even want to get to know me. He didn’t even consider being my real father, he denied everything.”

“He didn’t deny anything, honey,” April began as she reached out to take his hand. “You wouldn’t invite some stranger into your home only because they claim to be your son. He just wants to see the result of the test first. Once you’re proven right, he’ll be more cooperative.”

“Maybe you’re right.”

“I know I’m right,” she said with a laugh, earning a warm look and a kiss on the back of her hand in return. “He’ll come around. Don’t worry.”

[sandorslady]

His Lady of the North

Sandor x Stark Reader Warnings: nothing major, maybe some swearing, heavy fluff, let me know if I missed anything. *This is my first time ever writing anything like this so please pardon any mistakes I may have made. If you have any POSITIVE feedback on how I can do better please let me know, thanks<3

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

Sandor Clegane was never the type of man to show his feelings or any emotion at all for that matter. Other than just his regular air of brooding. Though behind the mask intended to keep people away was a sad man who longed for a girl he could never have.

Lady Stark never wanted to come to King’s Landing, but being the eldest daughter of Ned Stark meant that she had certain duties to her house. So when the King came to Winterfell, and his son Joffrey asked for her hand in marriage she could not refuse. So now here she was walking with Joffrey through the castle, listening to him discuss whatever terrible thing had his attention that day. Walking just behind them was Joffery’s sworn protector Sandor Clagane. The Hound.

In the few weeks since she’d arrived with her father and sisters, she’d come to enjoy Sandor’s presence. When Joffrey was not around Sandor never left her side. Standing in silence while she read or walked through the gardens. She had only ever said a few words to him and yet he was always so gentle with her.

Sandor couldn't help but fall for Lady Stark. She was kind, gentle, and caring. She always made a point to speak to him and make him feel human. It pained him to watch her be tortured by that cunt of a boy. Joffery was awful, in some was worse than the hound himself, so when King Robert died and Ned Stark was declared a traitor, and executed, Sandor became on high alert.

Sandor knew that Joffery would find some way to punish Lady Stark for the "crimes" of her father to feed into his sick pleasures. So he made sure that he had one eye on her at all times.

Now they were standing in the throne room, Sandor next to Joffery, and Lady Stark in front of them with her two younger sisters. The new King was tormenting the lady hoping to use her to get a reaction from her older brother Rob.

"What can I do to show Rob just how insignificant his house really is to the crown?" The King Joffery said, drumming his fingers on the arm of the iron throne.

"I know!" he shouted with an eery excitement.

"We could batter the pretty little face of his eldest bitch sister." He sneered, waving his guards towards her.

That is where Sandor drew the line. He'd had enough. He stalked toward the guard who was making his way to the girl and threw him to the ground.

"The man that touches her loses his hands." He growled.

Joffery began laughing and clapping incessantly.

"I know just what we'll do! Every hound needs his bitch!" he cackled.

Sandor turned and gave him a quizzical look.

"It's really a quite simple plan hound," Joffery said, leaning forward.

"You will marry the Stark bitch so that Rob Stark will know just how low he and his family really are." he sneered.

Sandor's eyes widened. What had he done? He had doomed her to a life of embarrassment.

"Escort the Starks back to their room. We have a wedding to plan." Joffery said with a nauseating smile.

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

Let me know if this is even worth a part 2. Thank you for reading!!!!

[kokomiin]

I didn't want to have to do this but I am currently being harassed by somebody I worked for with no sign of letting up, so here it is. Some of you might remember me working on an RPG called Moonatic since last month. I was contacted by this person in early December to be the artist for the game, after seeing how many people were working on it I decided to accept, but everyone involved was working out of goodwill under the promise that we would eventually be paid. I was encouraged by the director to work at maximum capacity every day, I am aware that I have an especially fast art output compared to some people, but this still takes work and energy as I am a human being. If I was only able to complete one piece in a day, he would comment on that being "a shame" and would point out if I finished my work day earlier than him due to exhaustion even if I had actually gotten things done. I kept working hard every day because I genuinely believed in the project and thought this kind of crunch wouldn't be permanent, and I didn't want to cause friction between myself and the director by complaining which I now realise was a huge mistake. Whenever I took a day off I had to announce it, there was no set schedule and I believe he would have me working every day if possible.

My friends can attest to the decrease in my physical and mental health before I even realised how I was being affected by this. The director also initiated a friendship with me as well as me being his employee, I accepted but over time personal boundaries were crossed, he made judgements about some things in my personal life and just two days ago, the day before I decided to resign, he implied a romantic interest in me knowing full well that I'm in a relationship. This was a breaking point for me and I had to reevaluate everything, after discussing with many people I decided it was best for everyone if I left. But when I gave the director my resignation, explaining to him the stress I was under and how I was uncomfortable with how he spoke to me, but that I would still let them use my work for the project, he immediately reacted with a mental spiral, blamed me for the project failing and even now still refuses to contact me directly.

A few weeks ago he insisted on purchasing a VR Headset for me, which I declined multiple times due to the cost and because I didn't ask for it in the first place, but around my birthday when he kept insisting I decided to accept, considering it my compensation for the month's worth of free labour I had done. I drew many character design sheets, environments, a comic, promotional artwork, helped to finish the trailer's storyboard and had begun animating it, with only a few days of breaks. I left the project because of stress and a lack of personal boundaries that were caused by him, and now this person is spamming me with payment requests to give him back the money for this gift. He claims it as a work tool, but when we talked about him getting it for me he treated the 'work' aspect as an excuse and said he really wanted to hang out with me in VR after work. Now he is declaring it as a work tool that needs to be repaid if not shipped back. A VR headset is not at all a necessary tool for this project, which is an RPG game developed in game maker.

I'm genuinely afraid about what else this person might do as he is blaming me for the project failing as though it was my own, and refusing to take responsibility for his treatment of me. If you are an artist, in the future please avoid any company with the name Andel in it. If I end up being forced to pay back the price of my free labour :') I'll open emergency commissions, ok?

screenshots under the cut (i'm pretty shaky right now so I forgot to add some, the ones related to my resignation have been added now)

[morsartis]

Kiss The Girl

Marvus x fem!Reader

.

Fish darted through the tanks in brilliant colors, the cooler lighting highlighting the brilliance of their scales. All around you were families and couples enjoying their own outings. Despite this, the aquarium was remarkably slow today. What little crowds that managed to form always dispersed as if to mimic the schools of aquatic life you’d all come to see. Leaving you and Marvus in your own personal bubble. You had wandered into a more secluded indoor section of the aquarium to escape the hot sun, this one boasting small Alternian fish with iridescent white scales and vivid violet eyes. You knew it must have cost the aquarium a fortune to get them- or maybe a violetblood had been taken with the fanciful notion of the aquarium and donated the fish for their own amusement. It was always hard to tell. Either way you watched as the fish swam lazily through the water with their spiny barbs and fancy flared fins. Like a mix between a betta fish and a catfish. Beside you Marvus chuckled. 

“That one looks like that lil’ violet that you been bringin’ ‘round.” He pointed to a fish near the bottom corner that was much smaller than the rest- and seemed to be sulking grumpily as it watched the others swim around. You stifled a laugh. It did look like Eridan oddly enough. 

“That’s rude Marvus.” You couldn’t keep the humor out of your voice despite trying to scold your matesprite. 

“Am I wrong?” He asked sardonically as he glanced down at you lazily. This time you couldn’t help the snort that left you. 

“Eridan’s a wriggler, play nice.” 

“Sure. Soon as he stops eyein’ you like a piece a fresh grubloaf.” 

“Oh please. He’s just happy to have a friend. May I remind you how Zebruh gets?” 

“I could still cull him if you want lil mama. Ain’t no big thing.” 

“You know I don’t want you killing people on my behalf.” 

“Worth a shot.” He teased leaning down to steal a quick kiss. Leaning into the kiss you rolled your eyes at his antics. Even so, you couldn’t help but smile at him when the two of you pulled away. 

“Culling is illegal here on Earth, Dear.” You reminded him. Marvus gave you an exaggerated pout. 

“I still say we should do it anyway.” 

“No.” You replied bluntly, already walking away. Marvus snickered in amusement, his long legs catching up to you instantly as he placed a chilled hand on your shoulder and gently guided you more firmly to his side. The two of you made an odd pair, you’d admit. Especially to the people in the mostly empty aquarium. One human girl in her pale sundress and her juggalo troll companion in the most form fitting t-shirt he could get his hands on and an absolutely gaudy pair of skinny jeans. Still, it was nice to have a normal date. It’d been so long since either of you had had the time to spend together outside of stolen moments after Marvus’ concerts. Having this day just to be normal and in love was something you’d be riding the high of for weeks. Months even. 

“Is that a cafe?” Marvus asked in confusion pointing at a cluster of tacky straw roofed “hut” shaped tables tucked near a tropical themed alcove. 

“Looks like it.” You snorted in amusement. 

“That is the tackiest thing I’ve ever seen.” Marvus told you as the two of you drew closer. 

“Oh its horrible.” You agreed, entertainment thick in your tone. 

“Who told them this was okay?”

“Not a clue.” “Even the menu items are tacky.”

“They are.”

“I want pictures.” 

The two of you shared a look before dissolving into laughter. At least this way you’d both have something to eat. Not a bad way to end a date really.

[iheartgracie]

redarthur quotes

“Arthur was standing just behind Oliver and Reyna, now shooting a closed-mouth smile as he caught Red’s eye.”

“Arthur had sat with her the whole time, calmly directing her, as though he could tell when she was zoning in and out, or when she was panicking about the size of the RV and how small everything looked from up here.”

“Red liked his glasses, standing out against his tan skin and curly dark brown hair. She wondered whether she needed glasses; faraway things seem to have gotten farther and fuzzier lately. Another thing to add to the to-worry list, because she couldn’t do anything about it. Yet. Arthur caught her looking, smiling as he ran a finger over the light stubble on his chin.”

“What’s up?” she said. “Deathly allergic to cheese puffs?”

“No, thankfully,” Arthur said, feeling his way as he sat down on the sofa bed.”

“Red turned back to Arthur. “Well, good thing you’re not spending a whole week in this cramped RV. Oh…wait.” Red smiled at him.

“I know, right.”

“Red guessed Arthur didn’t much like his friends at his own school, because he’d been coming to all their parties and hangouts since senior year began. And that was okay, because she liked having him around. He always asked how she was and how was her day, even though Red usually answered with lies or exaggerated stories with only faint traces of the truth. He showed interest when Red wasn’t interesting at all. And there was that time he dropped her home after that New Year’s Eve party and let her sit in his car, warming up in the dry air of the heater before she had to go inside the cold house and find whatever mess her dad had left for her. Arthur didn’t know that was happening, he thought they were just talking, talking the night away at two in the morning outside her house. A small kindness he never knew he’d given her. She should give him one back.”

“Well, if you did it, why haven’t you checked it off?” Arthur said, pointing to the small empty box on the see-through flesh of her hand. “Here.” He stood up, grabbing one of Maddy’s pens from the table that she’d used in an earlier game of Hangman. He uncapped it and leaned toward Red, pressing the felt-tip end against her skin. Gently, he drew two lines: a check mark in the little box. “There you go,” he said, standing back to admire his handiwork.

Red looked at her hand. And it felt stupid to admit it to herself, but the sight of that little check mark did change something in her. Small, minuscule, a tiny firework bursting in her head, but it felt good. It always felt good, checking off those boxes. She held out her hand proudly for Maddy to examine and got the nod of approval she was looking for. Arthur was still watching her, a look in his eyes, a different one that Red couldn’t decipher.”

“Red wasn’t any help, was she? Standing here looking at the moon.

“It’s big tonight,” Arthur said, following her eyes to the sky.”

“Must say, exploding the tire with your mind was a slightly drastic measure.”

Arthur clicked his tongue. “Desperate times,” he said.

“What do you think it could have been, really?”

He shrugged. “Probably a sharp rock or glass, like Oliver said.” And was Red imagining it, or did his voice sometimes soften for her? No, he was just nice to everybody.”

“At least it’s only raw tomatoes,” Red said, “so you can still eat pizza.”

“What is she talking about?” Oliver said, almost there with the final nut.

“Oh, my allergy.” Arthur smiled, somehow staying with her. That was rare. Red lost most people at least a few times a day, sometimes a few times per conversation. “I know, not sure life would be worth it without pizza. I’d just have to have a perma-rash.”

“Hey, grow a beard and no one would know,” she said. It would probably look good on him too.”

“Need to get yourself an outside job, then,” she said. “Dog-walker?”

Arthur shook the expression out of his face, recovering as he turned to her.

“Farmer?” he countered.

“Nature conservationist?” she said.

“Ooh, nice.”

Red had another one: “Axe-murderer?” she said.

“I hear that’s taken.”

“And Arthur was crouched here, next to her.

“I tried to get you,” he said quietly. “I’m sorry.”

“Last chances to smile, to laugh, to tell Arthur she liked him and it was okay that he didn’t like her back because she was unlikable at times, she knew that”

“Red watched the dark shape of Arthur struggle with his, fiddling with the front of his jeans. Close enough to reach out and touch. To hold hands, even, if they didn’t need both hands for this plan.”

“So,” he said, nodding his head back the way she’d just come. “Using a mirror to reflect one of us to bait a shot,” he summarized, again, better than Red ever could. “That’s smart,” he added.

“The Lavoys are very smart,” Red said.

“Want to know a secret?” Arthur said, his voice dipping into whispers, eyes flashing from behind his glasses. “I think you’re smarter.”

“I think you’re lying,” Arthur retorted, knocking away at it.

She looked up at him, that same drunk-warm feeling behind her eyes. Why was he so kind to her? And why did that make her want to be un-kinder back? Because she didn’t deserve it, that was why. She was just Red. Just Red and Just Arthur, and they should probably just stay that way, because she didn’t know how to be somebody’s someone.

“That’s okay,” Arthur said, like he could read the thoughts racing behind her eyes. But he couldn’t, he didn’t know what lived back there, in her head. “Your secret is safe with me. It always is.”

“I don’t have secrets.” She hid behind a smile again. Oh, stop it, grinning like an idiot.

“International spy?” Arthur asked.

“I wish.”

“Your real name is Agatha?”

“Only if yours is Edgar.”

“Secret frog-racing champion?”

“You got me,” she said.

“Nice.”

“She stepped down, the shirts bundled in her arms. They smelled clean, and yet somehow they still smelled like him. The same as the hoodie he’d let her borrow after New Year’s Eve when he dropped her home. She’d slept in it that night, under her coat, and in the morning it only smelled like her. Arthur had never asked for it back. Maybe he was used to losing things too.”

“Red reached, stretching out her fingers, each one too aware of itself and of what she was making them do. She rested her hand on Arthur’s head just for a moment, near the back of his neck. Mom used to do that to her when she was upset, and Red didn’t even realize until right now that she missed it. She shouldn’t think of her, why did she keep thinking of her tonight?

Arthur glanced up, her hand sliding off. He caught it in one of his waiting hands, squeezed, his fingers warm against the cool of her knuckles.”

“Red?” Arthur’s voice interrupted the thought; he was standing behind her. She straightened up and turned.

His eyes were drawn and sad behind his glasses, lashes long and downcast.

He didn’t say anything, just raised his eyes to meet hers and then raised one hand.

There, on the back of his hand, written in that same black felt-tip pen against his tan skin, were the words: YOU OK?

Beside them were two options. YES with a square checkbox drawn next to it, riding up one knuckle. And below that, NO, with an empty box.

Arthur gave her the pen, pressing it into her hand, fingers warm against hers as they lingered there. Something passed between their eyes. Red held up the pen, uncapped it. She was always fine, when people asked. Of course she was fine, thanks, yes, she and Dad were doing just great, thank you. Fine, okay, fine. An elaborate lie squeezed into those two tiny words, the greatest gifts to a liar like her. No one asked for more detail if you were fine. But Arthur, he was really asking, she could tell. And so Red really answered.”

“Something touched her floating hand, in the darkness of the backs of her eyelids, the yellow glow of the overhead lights fighting through. Skin, fingers, intertwining through hers. Red opened her eyes, blinking in the new light, and there was Arthur. ”

“Arms around her waist again, locking on.

“I’ve got you, Red,” Arthur said in her ear, hoisting her to her feet, dragging her back up the steps, her body pressed against his.”

“Arthur drew Red’s head back, brushing the wayward hair out of her eyes, and the dirt and the grit.

“You’re okay.” His words against the back of her head, warm and spreading. One hand against her forehead. “You’re okay.”

“You okay?” Arthur asked her.

“You don’t care,” she replied.

He looked hurt by that, a flicker by his mouth.”

“Red staggered sideways, one leg buckling beneath her. Someone caught her.

Arthur.

His hands under her elbows, keeping her on her feet. He looked her in the eyes, blinking slowly, twin tears chasing down his face.

“Red,” he said, low, soft, almost too soft to cut through the air in this RV. “Look at me.”

She was looking at him.

“It’s not your fault,” he said.

“What?” Red sniffed.

“It’s not your fault your mom died.”

“Arthur stroked his hand down the back of her hair, to the ends of her ponytail.”

“I’m sorry for every hurt I caused you. I’m sorry I didn’t try harder to protect you. I’m sorry I never got to tell you. I’m sorry I never kissed you.”

[jellyfishsthings]

Warnings: fem!reader, established relationship

Requested by @swvaxq

12:00. Midnight.

Charlie waits patiently for her in the cave. The Dead Poets cave. If his friends knew what he was doing they were going to kill him. But she was worth it. A ruffle of trees reached his ears that was accompanied by her swearing under her breath. He laughed fondly. God that girl was something else. He laid his coat down and drew the picnic basket closer as she entered the small place.

The smell of her hit him first. Roses and faint jasmine here and there. The sight of her came second. She had slightly curled her hair and had tried to pin them in place so as to not tangle in tree branches, being kept away from her beautiful face allowing him to admire it without a hint of resend. Leaves adorned them as long as her clothes and a large puddle of mud where in her left leg, staining her trousers.

"Rough journey?" He asked jokingly as she approached him.

"Yes," she said proudly matching his wit with her own, slightly raising her chin and answering " I had to cross the dens of Hell, just to see you".

"Well then, you must really love me."

"That I do," she said as she kissed him softly on the lips.

"For what it's worth I love you too."

"True, but you are obsessed too because what logical person on this planet would beg for forty minutes to meet him in the cave just because he missed me? You and possibly a serial killer."

He laughed at her. And drew her closer. Kissing her lips, making her lose her breath then her cheeks, her nose as it scrunched in distaste, hating being kissed there and then her forehead.

They stayed quiet, enjoying the peace and tranquillity they had as she tucked her head under his chin and buried her face in the corner of his neck. When he darted drawing his hands up and down in her sides she started squirming.

Ticklish, he presumed, a nice fact to keep in mind for later, he thought.

"Are you hungry, my dear?"

"Starving, should we go out and haunt deer or rabbits? But be aware I could eat one me you should multiply everything you thought we should catch with two." She said not missing a bit.

He opened his picnic basket which was filled to the brim with all kinds of food. And asked her.

"This seems enough?"

She threw a questioning glance there, calculating and mumbling "Should be enough"

She grabbed one of the sandwiches that were filled with cucumber and some kind of cream cheese that she loved, and practically inhaled it.

She wasn't kidding when she said she was starving, he thought.

When they were done with the sandwiches and they downed over two glasses of water and then found the small taper that contained crème brûlée. Her favourite dessert in the world. He really knew her better than the back of his hand. And he had missed her. Hellton had arranged them so many term exams the last two weeks and he couldn't care less about them or his grades but his friends were adamant about trying and so he did just that. But now he was here, with her and that seemed to be the only thing that mattered at the moment.

The look of happiness on her face was the only thing that somewhat brightened his heels days and weeks. He knew they didn't have enough time and he would have to return soon back to his dorm. Just five more minutes, he kept saying to himself over and over, like a little child that did not want to separate from his friends yet.

[thedo0zyslider]

I Love You (I'm Not Supposed Too) - Chapter Five: Swampy Vacation - 7k Words

Fwhip embarks on a journey to the Codlands, courtesy of Grimlands Count. Safe to say he is less than pleased with the idea

A03 Link

Several weeks later, after dozens and dozens of tense days in the house, Fwhip finds himself being shipped off to the Codlands for two weeks. His father says it was a planned trip, so he could learn about their culture and what not. The ginger doesn't quite believe that.

Fwhip is pretty sure it’s because of the fight he and his sister had. And because Gem was scheduled to visit the day after he left too, which is pretty convenient timing if you ask him. He's almost grateful that their parents seem to be keeping them separate, because he's still feeling miserable about the whole thing. And he doesn't want that to lead into another fight again, then he really wouldn't know what to do with himself. 

He knows his fight with Gem isn’t over that one bad day. It’s god knows how many years worth of problems all exploding at once, because they suck at emotional stuff. And they're family is a big old mess too. One so full of issues that it makes him wanna bang his head into a wall half the damn time. 

He hasn’t seen Gem since she left for the Cliffs, right after their fight, which was over half a month ago at this point. Fwhip hasn’t messaged her on the new communicators they were gifted with either. Just another thing on the problem pile now, he supposed. Even if he didn't want it to be. The ginger isn’t really upset that his sister hasn’t spoken to him though, for he’s still pretty upset at her. She had called his one and only joy in this life dumb and stupid after all.

Fwhip is upset at himself too. The future Count knows he was being an asshole with most, if not all. of his comments, even if some were the truth. Yet at the same time he had no idea what to do, or how to talk to Gem about it. How do you even recover from a fight like that, really? They’d both called each other's greatest passions stupid .

He thinks about all of this, and arrives at the Codlands a lot grumpier than he expected to be. Part of the young Count wants to go back home, but he knows Gem is probably there. And the rest of him doesn’t want to confront that whole ordeal just yet, so maybe being in the dumb smelly swamp empire for a week or so would be bearable; if his other option was that much worse. Maybe .

Jimmy greets him as soon as he, and the guards his father had annoyingly sent, arrive. There is a fake smile plastered across his face, and when everyone turns their back he gives Fwhip the naistest glare the cod could probably muster. The half dragon returns it with a glare of his own, and feels his tail angrily thump against the ground. Well then, this is going to be a splendid trip, since the Cod Emperor’s greeting was oh-so friendly . 

Fwhip and his guards are giving a small tour, the teeangers keeping a good distance between them and the rest of the group. The tour was uncomfortable for both of them it seemed, as Jimmy awkwardly pointed out and described most of the buildings in the empire; even with the Grimlands guards giving him death glares the whole time. Fwhip tried to pay attention, since he would be living there for the next few days or so, but found it was rather hard too. The people they passed were giving the half dragon some nasty stares, stares he couldn’t shake no matter how hard he tired. He drew his wings even closer to his body as they walked, shifting uncomfortably with nearly every step. The cod beside him waved to someone else, then raised an eyebrow at the half dragon’s suffering. The dickhead. 

“Not used to getting stared at like an animal, are you?” Jimmy mutters to him, having leaned in a bit to do so. They are much too close for the young Count’s liking right now, able to feel the blonde’s breath falling on his skin..

“No.” Fwhip mutters back, shifting just an inch in the other direction. Personal space and all, especially when he was being ogled like he was some creature . “I’m not.”

“Now you know what my life feels like.” Jimmy responded, waving to someone he knew as they continued to make their way through the small town. 

Fwhip avoided everyone's gazes still, and tried to fold his wings closer to his back. “Do you deal with this everyday?” He asked, not missing how the few cod he did catch a glimpse of looked at him. It was…..a look he wasn't used to, that's for certain. 

“Yeah.” The cod answered after a moment, his response strained. Again, Fwhip had to wonder once again what went on in that damn ocean. “For a lot of reasons, yeah.”

The ginger doesn't respond, just holds back a sigh, and accepts the fact that he will be subjected to some….rather nasty looks. But if complains to Jimmy the cod will complain about his treatment in the Grimlands, so he just keeps his mouth shut and suffers in silence. Sometimes doing that is better anyways.

Fwhip follows Jimmy around in mostly silence, only giving the occasional word here and there. Partly because a good bit of the codfolk's conversations are in codlish, a language he cannot even try to understand right now. But he learns a little from what he can gather, about the people's religion, the sea gods they worship and their cultural festivities related to it. 

He learns about recipes and their foods he will never remember fully, the style of dress in the empire, how they farm and use the land's natural resources for most things, everything . He also learns a lot of little details too, like how Jimmy will have to wear this head once they appoint him as the Codfather, and how he won’t be able to take it off in public ever again after that. Jimmy mumbled something part way through, about how his mother had instructed him to be so detailed in the tour, because normally he wouldn't care so much. And well, he's doing a damn good job at it, out of fear or otherwise. He makes it a little interesting, at least. 

Their little tour is eventually interrupted by some commotion in the docks, and the two young royals have to rush off once they hear the sounds of yelling. Thankfully no one got truly hurt, other than a few bruises maybe, but one if the castle merfolk and two codfolk had gotten into a pretty heated engagement. Apparently one of them had said some nasty comment about the other species, and it had escalated from there. 

Jimmy tells him it's the fourth incident like that today, and noon has only just passed. 

Not even twenty minutes later, they have to stop an argument between one of the Grimlands guards accompanying Fwhip, and another codfolk Jimmy had been talking to prior. It was his guard who had started it, and while the future Count didn't necessarily disagree with their comments, it would not be good for any of them if a fight broke out. So he decides they're done with guards, actually, and pulls the one with him off to the side. 

“Sir,” The guard protested, surely unhappy about losing their post. “I can't just leave you here alone in an enemy empire!”

“First off, we're not technically enemies right now.” Fwhip hisses, shoving them off to wherever the other two or so Grimlands guards had been ordered to stay. “And do you think these people are gonna attack an emperor's kid? They're not that dumb.” 

The guard mutters something under their breath in response, something about him sympathizing with the fish folk, and reluctantly walks away. They know when to walk away and follow orders, but not when to shut their mouth, it seems. The half dragon glares at the back of the retreating guard, and has to stop himself from stomping back like a child might. To say the comment got under his skin would be an understatement. 

Fwhip exchanges a glance with Jimmy when he walks back over, and sees the same troubling look reflected on the young cod’s face. It seems the two of them are on the same page then, about why they are here and what they are being taught. 

They are both starting to understand the need for the marriage. Fwhip still doesn't like it, he never will, but he can at least understand why it's happening. And that is exactly why they were brought here, to see and understand their duties to the people. The duties they both do not want, yet have no say in. The duties their parents do not want to do, so now it's both of their jobs.

There's a sinking pit of despair opening up in Fwhip's gut as he realizes it, and sees the same feeling reflected in Jimmy’s eyes as well. And the feeling is persistent, it won't go away. It's the feeling that will define every thought of the future after today. 

“Pix!” Jimmy exclaims, sounding all happy and relieved. He nearly runs over towards the other, his tail basically wagging with happiness behind him as he moves. Like a puppies tail would. 

“Pix?” Fwhip parrots, confused, yet he follows the young cod regardless. Don't get him wrong, he's very happy to see the new Pixandrian King, it's been a while since their last meeting, he's just unsure of why exactly he's here. 

“Hello you two!” The Copper King says, reaching out to ruffle both of the boy's hair when they're in range. Jimmy laughs, and lets him, already well used to such affection from the man in the few times they have spoken. Fwhip lets his hair be ruined as well, but not without many confused noises. 

“I'm happy to see you but, why are you here!?” He asks, barely caring how messy his curls are now. Even if his hair was rather annoying to keep tidy. Again, he's very excited to see his friend, he just doesn't know why he is seeing him!

“He visits sometimes!” Jimmy explains, cheery. And then he leaned in closer to Fwhip, to add on quietly. Like no one was supposed to hear this, in case something bad came of it. Like Jimmy was treading some ground he wasn't supposed to around the cod and all the royal advisors hanging about. “And mum isn't giving me any help making an empire, so Pix made it his job instead.”

“Oh, okay.” The ginger mumbled, somewhat surprised at the information. He knew the Ocean Queen wasn't....a great parent, but he hadn't been expecting her to just throw her son info leadership like that. Jimmy, on the other hand, seemed unphased by it, like this stuff was normal, and happily turned his head back towards their older friend. 

“The Queen actually requested my presence, and said she wanted me to be here today specifically.” Pix said, also seeming very nonchalant about the whole neglectful parent thing. Fwhip wondered how out of the loop he was, and if Lizzie was either involved or okay with all this. Or if she even knew it was happening. 

Jimmy looked puzzled, like his mother didn't request Pix's presence a lot. Like he just showed up of his own accord, out of the kindness of his own heart. “Why?”

“I don't know.” Pix shrugged, a small smile forming on his lips. “Maybe she thinks I'll keep you both in line?” Both of the boys giggled at that suggestion, and exchanged a knowing glance. No one in the world could stop them arguing, or being individual little troublemakers. You'd either have to separate them or lock them each in an all white room to achieve such a feat. 

Not even two minutes later, like they had summoned the Devil herself, the Ocean Queen arrives. She has guards of her own trailing her as she approaches them. Fwhip is surprised when he sees her, but his two companions are not. Jimmy seems to be trying to control his facial expression, probably from scowling or something; while Pixl plasters one of those fake, polite little smiles across his lips.

“Hello, your majesty.” Pix says, with a polite dip of his head. He sounds a lot less friendly than he did on him and the Queens last meeting a few months ago, that's for sure. The Copper King has undoubtedly learned some information recently, information about what really goes on behind closed doors in the Ocean Empire. It's nothing good, either. 

“Pixlriffs, good to see you.” The Queen says, stiff as ever. In the few times Fwhip has met her, he doesn't think she's ever been relaxed. Or casual. Or just generally not nerve wracking to be around. “How has everything been going?”

“It's been going well. Your son has quite the knack for this stuff, you know.” Pix hums, casting a fond glance over his shoulder at Jimmy. The young cod does not beam up at him like one would expect him to, his face being neutral and controlled instead. Like he would be punished if he didn't. That uneasy feeling Fwhio has about the Ocean Queen is growing every second, honestly. 

The Queen flicks her gaze towards her soon for a moment, eyes narrowing ever so slightly. Jimmy’s expression doesn’t shift and inch.  “Does he now…”

“Yes, especially once you let him learn what he needs to.” Pix's tone appears casual on the surface, but there is an undertone of accusation. Of weeks old frustration and annoyance with his fellow royal. It looks like the Ocean Queen is doing everything in her power to be civil right now. 

The Queens hums, her tail flicking behind her, probably not as discreet as she would like it to be. “Well. I was just here for a report and a look around. I think I'll be going now, if that's okay with you.” She hasn't even gotten the report yet, and she already wants to leave. Fwhip has to stop himself from rolling his eyes at the statement, and instead forces himself to look wholly disinterested in the whole conversation. Just as people would expect him to be, after all. 

“That's perfectly fine with me, ma'am. I'm sure you're very busy indeed.” Pix responds, placing a calm hand on Jimmy’s shoulder. The cod doesn't seem to notice it, everything he does is still controlled and precise as ever. But his posture does seem to relax, just the tiniest bit. 

“Yes, busy.” The Queen responds, almost distantly. Like her mind is very far elsewhere at the moment; perhaps it is back at her Castle, where she clearly would rather be instead. “I need a word with my…child very quickly, if I may.” She adds, her eyes still trained on her son. Almost like some kind of predator. 

“Of course!” Pix's smile seems a bit more forced after that, and he slowly removes his hand off Jimmy’s shoulder. For a brief second, the young cod looks a little terrified, but he doesn't say anything at all. He just lets his mother whisk him off to the side, a few feet away, while their guests wait behind them. 

Fwhip wants to ask something, anything about what's happening, but he doesn't. Pix is…oddly stiff as they watch the two Merfolks exchange, and whatever question Fwhip has dies in his mouth. He knows not to pry when his friend gets like this, because the answer he will get will only be stony silence. The King watches the ordeal through narrowed eyes, observing Jimmy and his mothers body language as they talk. The whole ordeal seems to be a rather tense one, and Fwhip can't help but eavesdrop. Just a little bit. Though he doesn't hear much, and can only catch the last few snippets of the conversation.

The Queen crouches down next to her son, so that they are eye level. Her hands are firmly placed on his shoulders, so he cannot move or pull away. It looks like her nails are digging in, and Fwhip really hopes that's not the case. Her lips move as she whispers something, voice rising slightly with every new word. Until Fwhip doesn't even have to try too hard to overhear it anymore. And if he can hear it, so can King Pix besides him. Whatever the consequences of that are. 

“You do what you've been told, K-,” The Queen hisses, and Fwhip chooses to stop listening right about that point in the discussion. He feels like one of those words isn't for him to hear, now or ever. Like Jimmy doesn't want him to hear it. “Remember that.” 

“Yes ma'am.” Jimmy says, his gaze firmly fixed on the floor. His mother glares at him for a moment more, as if assessing him. She huffs, then loosens her grip enough for Jimmy to wiggle free. He doesn't try, and doesn’t move until he is let go fully. Jimmy only moves when she starts to walk back towards them, and follows behind the Queen more obedient than he had the first time. Whatever bad feeling Fwhip had about the ruler was now confirmed, and was taking form in a rather strong dislike. He could see why everyone else detested the woman so much, and why his mother always complained about having to deal with her. (Which was funny, considering how similar they seemed to be. But that was a train of thought for another day.) 

The Queen and Pix have a small word, and then she is off again. Fwhip pays that exchange no mind. Instead, the half dragon focuses on Jimmy; who is now just standing next to him. He seems a little zoned out, and won't respond to the small nudges Fwhip gives him. He doesn't fully relax either, not until his mother is out of sight, even though her attention had never returned to him once it left the first time. 

“You okay, Jimmy?” Fwhip mumbled, seeing the breath he let out at her departure. He doesn't really know why he did it, but the half dragon slipped a hand into the cods. It's something he does when Gem gets a little rattled, and does it without thinking. Maybe that's why he did it, because Jimmy seemed all rattled from whatever his mom had called him. Maybe it was just a habit just a habit at that point, he didn't know.

“Yeah, yeah I'm fine.” The blonde answered, not making any comment in the hand holding. But he did briefly lace their fingers together, and squeezed the other's hand just a little bit. “Can you two go get something? From all the storage areas? They need to fix up some parts of the church after last week's rain…” He mumbled, now talking to Pix as well. Fwhip ignored how the ruler was looking at their hands with a small smile on his face. 

“Sure thing.” The Pixandrian says, nudging the half dragon lightly. He lets go of Jimmy’s hand more reluctantly than he thought he would. “C'mon Fwhip.” The half dragon follows, sparing only half a glance over his shoulder as they walk away. He figures Jimmy just needs a moment to regroup himself after his mother’s visit, and nothing more. He’ll probably go and help them with the Church later, if it doesn’t get too late.

He and Pix head towards said church, and ask around about what materials are needed for the repairs. Once they have a small list of that, the two royals start off to the empire’s storage area, Fwhip prepared to rummage around a probably very disorganized mess. Since storage areas tended to be just that. But it’s there that the day went further downhill, as someone had questions that they needed answers to, and subsequently started to question his young friend about it. Answers the future Count would never be able to ever give.

“Fwhip.” Pix hums out his young friend’s name after a few minutes of quiet work, scanning over the list of materials they had been given for the third time. He doesn't look up from the paper as he speaks, scanning over it still. 

“Yeah?” The ginger asks, turning to look at the older man. The Pixandrian’s tone is….more suspicious than it normally is. Or ever is. Fwhip doesn't exactly know where this is going, but he does know that he doesn't like it. 

“Are you really…interested in Jimmy?” The brunette says, the words sounding oh so innocent when they spill from his lips. To Fwhip they are one of the worst things a man could say to him.

The young Count feels his hand stiffen over whatever he's holding at the question, and what also feels like all his blood turning to ice and dread pools in his stomach. Still he tries to stay calm and controlled when he speaks. Like the question never bothered him. “What do you mean?”

Pix hums again before he speaks, humming one of the tunes he likes to hum when working. “Well there's been rumors about you two being a couple. That's something you don't see everyday, two young royals pairing up…of their own accord.” The Pixandrian says, his tone only holding curiosity. And some mild suspicion buried deep down, to anyone whose head isn't clogged with fear. To Fwhip this is the scariest conversation he will ever, ever have with this man. “I knew you two didn't particularly get along before, so I've just been intrigued about what I've been hearing.”

“Well, you've been around us all day,” Fwhip shrugs, trying to act nonchalant the best he can. He doesn't think it's working very well. “What do you think?” 

“I think you're acting like they are true, in a way.” The Copper King says, and finally turns his head to look at the young half dragon. His gaze is not met like he perhaps expected to be.

“Why'd you even ask in the first place? It isn't really your business.” He huffs, having turned back to the materials he was sorting through a while ago. Fwhip decides to ignore the piercing blue eyes burning holes into his backside for the next few minutes. 

“I know it's not, trust me.” Pix reassures, finally finding some of the materials they need. Fwhip is so off-put by this whole conversation, he knew looking for whatever he previously had been would soon be pointless. He already wanted to leave the storage buildings as soon as possible anyways. “Jimmy just informed me about the deal between your two kingdoms, and I wondered if it came with any strings attached. He didn't seem to be happy about it when he told me.”

“And then I was here today?” Fwhip asked, hand tensely resting over some type of wooden plank that was probably on the list. Probably.

Pix hummed in quiet confirmation. “And then you were here today.”

Fwhip let out a small sigh, and decided he could tell a half truth. It wouldn't hurt to spill some of the basic stuff, not as long as he was vague about it.“My parents thought that us spending time together would be a good idea after the deal, since we used to argue a lot.”

“Did it turn into something more?” Pix asked, genuinely curious. Because he truly cared about them. Both of them. It's what made walking on eggshells around the subject so hard, lying to the people who wanted nothing more than to help. (Some of the very few people who could actually help them too, no less.) 

The ginger blushed at that, and averted his gaze to the side. Goddammit why was he blushing. He shouldn't be blushing over a stupid fishboy that he hated. “Maybe.”

He felt Pix’s warm smile on his back, and relaxed slightly under it. His smile always had that effect, even in the hard moments like this. “Well if it did, I'm happy for you two.”

“And how do you know it didn't?” Fwhip asked, even though he barely dared to do so. Even if the possible answer scared the life out of him. 

“I know when you're lying to me, young Fwhip. You're not very good at it.” Pix repsonded, which, yeah, he was right about all that. Fwhip wasn't the best liar in the world, and the Pixandrian had known him for far too long. Pix had seen more of his horrible lies than anyone else had, other than maybe his sister. “But I also know when to keep my mouth shut.”

“Could you….tell me about cod history sometime?” Fwhip mutters, a little embarrassed that he has to ask such a thing. Especially to Pix, who doesn’t even live anywhere near the ocean. He is just making the correct assumption about how well read the man is about everything.

“Why not ask Jimmy, or Lizzie?” Pix inquires, handing him some supplies to carry back. So it looks like he did more than he actually did, and wasn’t just the Grimlands dead weight. Probably. At last that’s why Fwhip thought he did so, if he just didn’t need help. Ya know, the far more likely reason out of those two.

“Jimmy doesn’t like talking about it, I think. Plus he seems lost on how everything works still. And Lizzie doesn’t get to see me much.” Fwhip explains with a shrug, taking the items he's handed. It's quite a heavy load of stuff, that's for sure, and he has to wonder how bad the damages to the church truly were. 

“Yes, I will. One day.” Pix agrees, starting out of the storage area and back towards the damaged building. Fwhip follows after him, stumbling a little under the weight of his supplies. 

“Thanks.” The half dragon mumbled, taking longer strides so he could keep up with his older friend. Once Pixl noticed this, however, he did slow his pace down. “Do you…do you know where Jimmy is?” He asked after a moment, feeling the redness start to flood his face. This wasn’t helping the earlier assumptions, that’s for sure.

“I think he went back to his shack for the day.” Pix hummed after a thoughtful moment, before giving his younger friend a teasing look. “Why? You miss him already?”

“No.” Fwhip muttered, quiet and embarrassed. He knew the Pixandrian was gonna tease him about his “ crush ” for forever now. Dangit. “And thanks.”

“You're welcome.” Pix said, looking like he wanted to ruffle the half dragon's hair, but couldn't for once. Fwhip appreciated the sentiment regardless, and was sure he'd get another head ruffle as soon as possible. “Now give those back to me, so you can go see your little boyfriend.”

“ B-Boyfriend!? He's not my-” Fwhip stammered out, his wings puffing out behind him on instinct. He was sure his face was as red as his hair by now, the flush having reached the tips of his ears. Pix did nothing but giggle at his own successful quip, and watch as the young royal struggled to regain his former composure. “..Are you sure you can carry all this? I don't have to go…”

Pix shakes his head, and reaches out to take the stuff from the young half dragon. “I'll be fine, Fwhip. I've carried a lot worse in my day.” He hums, and Fwhip slowly starts to hand his share of the materials over. “Besides, I think you have something to talk about.” And well, he is right about that. There is something he wants to tell Jimmy about….

“Right, um.” Fwhip says, all of the materials now out of his hands and into Pix’s. He was still worried about the other carrying all that weight, but knew the other would give him the exact same response again if he protested. “Thank you, again.”

“Anytime, now run along. Jimmy’s shack is just by the docks.” Pix said, managing to nudge him off in that direction. Fwhip huffed, threw yet another thank you over his shoulder as he started his return trip to the docks. It was a little tricky to find his way back, and he had to deal with quite a few nasty stares as he wandered around the swamp. But eventually, the half dragon does spot the shack eventually. And it is indeed a shack, too small to be called a house, and it’s not particularly pretty either, so of course it’s Jimmy’s. Once he sees it, he beelines for the door, and slips inside as soon as he isn’t fumbling with the lock. “Pix just asked about us.” Fwhip said, locking the door behind them as quickly as he can. The half dragon leaned against it too, for extra measure. He distantly hoped no one walked by and heard them, because that would be extra, extra bad. “He asked if I was actually into you.”

Jimmy’s head shot in his direction, eyes wide like a baby deer’s. He was standing halfway across the room when Fwhip entered, doing who knows what, and stopped it as soon as the words processed in his little fish brain. “Did you tell him?” The cod asked, clearly fighting back the fear in his voice. A small tinge of sympathy went through Fwhip for a moment, but then he pushed it right back down again.

“I wanted to, but I didn't.” He said, now moving off the door. The half dragon made sure it was locked before he did so, and moved closer to where Jimmy was standing. Both of their tails flicked across the ground in near sync, anxious and worried.

“Thank cod.” Jimmy mumbled, running a hand over his face in momentary relief. He hugged his arms to his chest again, and a frown settled onto his face. One that wouldn’t really leave for the rest of the day, rather unfortunately for the blonde.

Fwhip gave a small sigh of his own, and a  nonchalant shrug to accompany it as well. To make it seem like he cared a little less than he did or something. Even if the amount he cared was pretty small to begin with. “I figured your mom would have your head if I did. Even if I really, really trust him.”

“So someone’s onto us?” Jimmy asked, hugging his arms tighter to his chest. 

The half dragon let out a huff, and pretended not to notice when he did that. Like he did everytime, even when it was a pretty noticeable quirk of the cod’s. “He even asked if they arranged a marriage.”

“Oh no….” The blonde mutters, and Fwhip feels the same dread that is in Jimmy’s voice. He feels it very deep down in bones at the moment, and knows its the kinda dread that won’t ever go away.

The both of them are….decently terrified of what will happen if the news is broken suddenly, and not slowly overtime like they planned. Fwhip is scared of what the people will say, what all his salmonfolk friends would think. What the people working in his family's manor would say to him and to his father. And that fear is just over the current plan, let alone whatever would happen if the truth was revealed. Jimmy, as he'd admitted before one night, is deathly terrified of his mother's reaction; more so than any merfolk or codfolk's. Especially if the marriage doesn’t go as planned. He says the Ocean Queen does not like it when she doesn't get her way, and Fwhip feels like he has the emotional scars to prove it too. 

There is also a new sense of duty tying them both down after today. Duty to their kingdoms, their people, their parents. Duty to a lot of people. Duty to the world and the peace this arrangement would undoubtedly bring. Duty to the lives and the grief that would be spared by avoiding war. There was….a lot of duty riding on this, and it had taken them years to realize that fact. Now that they had, it had become something of its own heavy burden on both of the boys shoulders’.

“We have to sell it better.” Fwhip said after a moment, shuffling his weight from side to side. He didn’t know what to do, standing in this house talking to Jimmy. But he needed to do something, something with his hands or his body. Something to get all that nervous energy out before it exploded.

“I know,” Jimmy agrees, and looks like he’s about to start pacing. The ginger really hopes he won’t do that, because that would be stupid and pointless and annoying. Like almost every other thing the blonde does, actually. “But how do we do that?”

Fwhip hums, turning the idea over in his head for a bit. Even if he knows there’s only one logical solution to it, a solution he doesn’t want to admit. But he says it anyway, just to get it out there and out of his thoughts. So it won’t linger in the back of his mind like a little pest. “Acting like a couple, maybe…but.”

“We both don't want to.” Jimmy mumbled, sparing a glance at him. There was some emotion in his eyes, and Fwhip didn’t even dare to put a name to it. There were a lot of things he wasn’t daring to do, or didn’t like doing today it seemed. And this was just yet another one.

“Yeah.” The ginger mutters, glancing back at the blonde. He blinks in surprise, finding that they are…..very close. Close enough to touch. The cod says nothing, just blinks back at him all wide eyed.

For a moment, as he and Jimmy just stare at each other, Fwhip lets his mind wander. He wonders what it would be like to kiss him, just a little bit. He wonders what it would feel like, if it would feel like anything at all. His eyes flick downwards, and wonders if Jimmy’s lips are soft, or if they would be rough and horrible to feel against his own. He wonders if they’ll ever share that moment together.

“What are you staring at?” Jimmy says quietly after a minute. Fwhip jumps in surprise, feeling a blush start to spread across his cheeks. The half dragon moves his eyes away from the others lips, and focuses them on somewhere else in the room. He…..didn't know why he was thinking that. He shouldn't be thinking about kissing Jimmy. 

“Nothing.” He muttered, tail flicking slightly in embarrassment. “It's nothing.” If he wasn't mistaken, Jimmy's face was also starting to turn a bit red as well,  and his eyes had started to wander too. Meaning that they had…..maybe been thinking similar things. Just maybe. Maybe he wasn't totally weird for that one then. 

The cod doesn't give a verbal response, cheeks a decent shade of pink. Instead he gestures for Fwhip to sit down somewhere, and the half dragon does so. He practically curls himself into a little ball, taking up residency on one of the couch cushions. The left one by the arm, so he can further sink into the material and be miserable. Because today has been pretty shit, generally, and he just really wants to go home. But unfortunately, a certain someone can't understand social cues, and won't just let him suffer in peace. 

“So, why was your dad so eager to get you out of the house?” Jimmy says, plopping himself down next to Fwhip on the rather small couch. He curls his tail around his legs, making a pointed effort to keep all his limbs in his own personal space as best he can. The sentiment is somewhat appreciated. 

Fwhip looks up, shame already starting to form in the bottom of his gut. “You heard about that?” He mumbled, resisting the urge to hide his face like a child would. He’s not going to do that, especially not around the dumb codboy , because he’s not a child.

“Yep.” Jimmy says, leaning his head against the back of the couch, his gaze now foxed on the brown ceiling that seemed so far above the both of them. “Your dad was so eager he even surprised my mum when they talked. She said he was never that…. happy about getting rid of his kid for a few weeks.” 

“We had…..family issues. To put it lightly.” Fwhip gives a brief explanation, figuring the other can probably guess that much. Handing over information would probably shut him up as well, to be fair. “And now that's an excuse for dumb arrangement shit to go on.” 

“No, I think this visit was always going to happen.” Jimmy shakes his head, and gives the most sensible explanation Fwhip thinks has ever come out of his mouth. Especially about their…. situation . “Letting your child spend a few weeks in your enemy's land is something they wouldn't do, not if there wasn't a political thing behind it.” 

“It makes the peace treaty seem more believable when it gets announced, you know? It makes it seem like we've been genuinely repairing relations for the past few years.” The cod’s eyes stay distant, and trained on the wall as he speaks. Like he’s known the reality of all this the whole time, and it’s been choking him to death. “Even though it's all fake.” 

“When did you get so smart?” Fwhip snorts, considering all that. And yeah, he’s right. Not only does that make sense, it’s also something both their parents would do. The ginger knows that without a doubt, and it’s part of what makes the whole argument so horrible. That their parents don’t care enough to not use them as scapegoats, and don’t care enough to solve all their kingdoms' problems literally any other way that the cruelest and easiest one presented to them. 

“A lot of stolen books on diplomacy.” Jimmy mutters, and Fwhip files that away for later, so he can ask why the idiot has to steal books when he’s gonna be the leader of a whole damn country. Even if the answer is as simple as his mom being a horrible person, but still, the ginger likes knowing details about things. “But I'm here to talk about you, not our stupid arrangement.”

“....Me and Gem had a fight. A pretty bad one.” He admits with a sigh, and buries his head back into his arms. It’s easier to talk this way, if he doesn’t have to face the person he’s being forced to open up to. (Forced, like he couldn’t just cuss Jimmy out and be left alone afterwards…)

Jimmy lets out an understanding hum, their shoulders now somewhat touching. Fwhip pointedly decides to ignore that. “Is that why my last visit was canceled?”

“Yep.” Fwhip hums, popping the p. He really doesn't wanna talk about this. Especially not with Jimmy, in an unfamiliar empire no less. But he guesses he kinda has to for a little bit, well that’s what he’s been telling himself. Because Jimmy won’t shut up about it if he doesn’t, probably, and he’s annoying as fuck all the time.

“I get it. Me and Lizzie always argue.” The blonde said, sounding so sure of himself. Like this fight wasn’t the worst thing to ever happen to the ginger, like he could’ve known that without being told so. “Gem'll come around, eventually.”

“How do you know it was her fault?” Fwhip asks, tail curled tighter around himself. He isn’t even sure if it's Gem’s fault anymore; honestly it feels like it's more his fault than anything. He had been the one to start the argument, after all. But maybe it's none of their faults, maybe it's their parents, Fwhip doesn't know. All he knows is that he kinda wants to cry whenever he thinks about the fight. He knows that he feels guilty. He knows he loves Gem so fucking much and that fighting with her hurts, but being at home and dealing with their family also really, really hurts. 

Part of him thinks he just wants his childhood back. When they were both small and whole and blissfully unaware of all the problems yet to come. 

“I just have a feeling our sisters are very similar. That's all.” Jimmy says, now fully leaning on him. Fwhip is still ignoring it, and couldn’t decide if the touch was annoying or comforting at the moment. He didn’t want to find out either.

“You're an observant little fuck, aren't you?” He snorts, finally looking up again.

“So I've been told.” The cod holds back a small giggle, the happiest he’d sounded all day, before and after this moment. “We're going back to the Castle before nightfall, by the way, and we'll be back out here almost everyday.” He adds, moving away from the half dragon. Fwhip tries not to miss the contact of their shoulders too much.

“Is this how you live now? Because it kinda sucks man.” He huffs, uncurling himself slowly. He can’t imagine having to basically run an empire, on top of living at his horrible house and dealing with his horrible family. All while being barely sixteen as well….

Sometimes, it was very, very, very hard not to feel bad for Jimmy. To not feel a kind of companionship with their horrible situations all the time. It was very hard.

“I know. But I like the swamp more, so it's okay.” Jimmy mumbles quietly, and it sounds like he’s lying. He then nudges Fwhip a little harshly, and nearly topples him off the couch. It seems the feelings talk is complete over then, and it’s back to business as usual. “Now get up, we don't leave the swamp after sunset, and the afternoon’s already halfway over.”

“Fine. Bossy .” Fwhip huffed, and managed to get to his feet. He followed the other across the small shack and out of the door, into probably a horrible first night at the Prisma Palace, with many more to come after it. Jimmy said nothing as they walked and were brought back to his home, not a single word, and it was all he needed to say.

[thebrimstoneclub]

Thursday Night

*You and your boyfriend Eddie making a long distance relationship work while you're at college and he's still in Hawkins. With so much fluff*

The phone only managed its second ring before Eddie lunged across the couch to answer it. He had been staring at the phone for the past twenty minutes in anticipation of your call. One unfortunate telemarketer made the mistake of not being you, and Eddie restrained himself from berating the man and instead hung up the phone with a dramatic slam. His chest had been consumed with a tense knot all day as he counted down the hours and minutes until 9 pm. Before you left Hawkins for college, the two of you meticulously planned how to make the long distance relationship work. Which included a set phone date every Thursday night. Even though you had classes the following morning, you'd never dare to suggest making plans on Friday night since that was reserved for Hellfire Club.

"Hey!" Your bright voice on the other end of the line, bursting out before he had any chance of answering, made everything else melt await.

"Hey, sweetheart." Eddie smiled into the receiver, holding it as close as possible as he leaned back on the lumpy couch. The warmth filling his voice caused a similar reaction with you. You sprawled on your back across the bed in your dorm room and held onto the phone with both hands. You had practically raced across campus to make it to your room from the library for your call.

"I missed you," you sighed dramatically as your customary greeting. You closed your eyes and found it easy to imagine Eddie comfortable in his trailer. And tried to imagine yourself curled into his side as if you two were having this conversation in person.

"Yeah, I missed you too," Eddie chuckled softly and brushed his hair away from his face. "So damn much."

"Longest two weeks of my life," you responded with a little pout, which drew another chuckle from Eddie.

"There's gotta be something out there making life worth living, yeah?" Eddie tried to encourage the conversation. Not that he couldn't spend the entire night talking about how he missed you, but your first call from college had been nearly two hours of you both sharing in that miserable feeling of distance. It helped in some small way, allowing you and Eddie to openly express everything with what you were going through. But a few small tears had been shed by you and Eddie had no desire to discuss anything even remotely sad that night.

"Maybe one or two things," you respond playfully. There was a specific bit of news you were excited to share with Eddie all day, nearly calling him earlier than your scheduled date.

"Oh yeah?" Eddie drew out each syllable to make you laugh.

"The ice cream here is pretty amazing. Emily, Laura, and I got some tonight before locking ourselves in the library," you answered him. You had met Laura in your British Literature class and Emily when you both were studying late one night. The three of you had formed a fast and deep bond over so many shared interests.

"Let me guess...black raspberry?"

"As if I could ever order anything else."

"You're so predicable, angel. In the best way possible." Eddie lowered his voice in a way that sent a warmth through your chest. It was true that you were very set in your ways, but it was something Eddie fully admired about you. It helped him know exactly what to do or say to bolster your spirits in a way no one else ever bothered to do for you. He put his whole heart into everything he cared about. And somehow you ranked at the top of that list.

"Maybe, but I think there's a few things that can still surprise you," you answered him with your best attempt at a flirty voice. Through the line, you heard the shuffling of Eddie fidgeting on the couch. Possibly sitting up straighter. He could never sit still for long, and sometimes you're sometimes surprised he stays on the phone so long with you. Even when playing Dungeons and Dragons, he needed to be up and moving behind his DM screen.

"Don't tell me you ordered chocolate syrup?" he asked with a dramatic gasp. "Who are you and what have you done with my girl?"

"I would never," you laughed at him. One hand dropped from the phone and rested on your chest to feel the racing of your heart. You would never get over how it felt when Eddie called you his girl. You chewed on your lower lip as you couldn't stop grinning.

"So you ladies fill yourselves with ice cream and then lock yourselves in the library for what?" Eddie asked after another moment of shuffling on the couch.

"Researching. For class. Writing a paper on Midsummer Night's Dream." Your answer came slower. Discussing the actual college part of college life still felt awkward. As much as you wanted to tell Eddie about all the work, you worried the boy held back for another senior year might feel uncomfortable. You knew it wasn't easy on him, as much as he acted like he didn't care. He really did try last year.

"I was placing bets if you'd pick that or the Scottish play over lunch. Dustin said you'd go with the faeries, but here I was thinking you'd love an opportunity to go on about how Tolkien was disappointed with the play." Eddie carried on talking without any change in his voice. He was picking at one of the rips in his jeans as a slight distraction, but that was more about how it felt to sit in that cafeteria without you.

"So, what do you owe Dustin?"

"Two cans of Mountain Dew. He's going to be insufferable tomorrow," Eddie grumbled.

"Two? Oh babe, I'm sorry. You want me to start writing a new paper?" You laugh softly as you can clearly imagine Dustin's smug grin over his prize. You had met Eddie's pet freshman briefly during the last days of your summer, a small gap between the start of high school and the start of college. But the kid had left quite the impression.

"Don't you dare. You're not going back to that library. You're all mine tonight," Eddie said in that low voice again.

"Eds, I'm all yours every night. And day too," you responded in an equally low voice. Silence passed between the two of you, not due to a lack of anything to say but having far too much to add. You bit your lip again and closed your eyes. Your attention focused on every little sound coming through the phone to picture exactly what Eddie is doing. How he crosses one arm over his chest, the phone tucked into the crook of his neck. His feet kicking back and forth. Hands fussing with his hair or his rings.

So many miles away, his eyes closed to do the same thing to focus on you. Listening to each small breath, the soft tapping of your fingers atop your chest. Imagining all the nights you lay next to him in bed looking exactly like that. His hand tensed in a fist with the memory of holding onto yours.

"Eddie?" you whispered into the phone.

"I'm all yours, princess. Your devoted subject," he answered immediately. A thump sounding out as he pressed a fist to his chest. You couldn't help another giggle as you rolled onto your stomach. The phone cord twisted around you, and you blew a short burst of air through your lips while trying to free yourself.

"Well, that wasn't the response I was expecting," Eddie teased you.

"Sorry, sorry. My phone is trying to strangle me. I think it's become sentient and is trying to kill me so it can have you all to itself," you poked him right back.

"Is that your way of asking me to drive down to save you?" Eddie asked and you didn't need to see his face to know the gleam in his eyes.

"Only if it's working," you said, before pausing. "Is it?" You couldn't help the tremor of hope in your voice. Outside of long weekends and breaks where you'd return to Hawkins, the two of you had yet to discuss other concrete plans to visit each other.

"I'm looking for my keys as we speak," Eddie said, but there was no shift of movement from the couch to accompany his words, and a twinge of sadness in his voice.

You swallowed a sigh while trying to think of something else to say. Perhaps this would be the time for your surprise. You sat up in the bed as your heart raced again. "Well, I managed to defeat the phone cord myself. So, you don't have to worry about cancelling Hellfire tomorrow. And then...And then I don't have to cancel my plans tomorrow..."

"Plans? More ice cream with your girls?"

"With the girls, yes. But no ice cream. We're up to something new," you said with a dramatic pause, waiting on Eddie to time your response.

"You leave home, you start trying all these new things," Eddie pretended to chide you with a click of his tongue. "Soon, you'll be dying your hair, getting all sorts of piercings and tattoos. Maybe even smoking!"

"Oh, it's something far more degenerate than that," you tried to stop yourself from laughing, but failed entirely.

"Well, color me intrigued," Eddie said through a wide grin. He drummed his fingers on his thigh in anticipation, not sure if you were still teasing each other, but still eager to find out whatever you were scheming.

"We've started a new club...The Brimstone Club." You divulged the little secret you had been working on for the past week, then held your breath as you waited for Eddie's reply.

"Brimstone...Jesus H. Christ..." Eddie's voice sounded softer, as if he had dropped the phone onto his lap. Which he had, in order to press both hands to his chest. You beamed with pride at the reaction before calling out his name in a sing song voice.

"We're getting together every Friday night. Just the three of us so far, but who knows. If only we had this cool logo on a tee shirt," you carried on as soon as you could hear Eddie breathing directly into the phone again.

"Sweetheart, you gotta give me a second here," Eddie interjected but you can hear the excitement in his voice. You needed to bite your tongue to stop yourself, even though you've been dying to for his opinion all day. "So...Brimstone. Where'd you get that idea?" he asked far too smugly.

"Oh, I don't know," you paused to slowly lick your lips. "It just...felt right. Like it just belonged with me. My missing other half."

"Hellfire and Brimstone," Eddie said softly, the tenderness in his voice causing your heart to ache. Your grip on the phone tightened and for a moment you worried you might break it.

You playing Dungeons and Dragons wasn't any new surprise for Eddie. It was how you two met after all. How you two started dating and fell in love. It was an important part of each of your lives, and you found a way to carry it with you through that distance. When suggesting the idea to Laura and Emily, you insisted on the same time Friday night as Hellfire club. So in some small way, it was like you and Eddie could still play DnD together.

"So, what character do you have ready? Another wizard or warlock?" Eddie asks after clearing the lump from the base of his throat.

"Oh...um, I'm not really playing a character," you said, your voice lowering from another burst of nerves.

"Huh?" Eddie frowned in confusion, thinking he misunderstood what you were saying.

"No, I'm...I'm the DM."

Eddie's eyes bulged open. He never knew you were interested in running your own campaign. You had sat by his side plenty of nights when he worked on plans for the next session, though he refused to share details so you wouldn't have an unfair advantage over the other guys in Hellfire. But you did always love listening to him talk about lore and world building, all the NPCs and monsters he created.

"God, I love you," he said breathlessly.

A bubble of excited laughter burst from your lips. "I love you too, Eds."

Eddie spent the following hour barraging you with questions, wanting to know what adventure hook you were starting with, who the final villain was, what homebrew rules you'd allow. You excitedly answered with as much detail as you had from the scribble of notes you made over the past week. He offered little suggestions here and there, just gentle guidance as he trusted your creativity. He only stopped when you failed to stifle a yawn.

"You've got class in the morning, sweetheart," he said, his own cheeks tired from the constant smiling you inspired.

"Yeah, so do you, mister," you responded haughtily, which makes him laugh. You're tempted to ask him to stay on the phone until you fall asleep, but you know Eddie needs to rest too.

"You'll tell me everything about the session next week? Every roll?"

"Promise, Eddie. I'll tell you so much that you'll be sick of it," you answered him with a sweet smile.

"Not even possible," Eddie shakes his head and then closes his eyes. He leans his head back to picture your face smiling up at him. "Is it Thursday yet?"