#I wonder when really started turning that way - how involved he was in any of it

[thevampireliveblog]

Armand not beating the 'incapable of being without someone' allegations

[gothcsz]

imagine moving into your new apartment and finding out that javier peña is your next door neighbour 🤭

tags: f!reader, friends to lovers i think, sprinkle of angst, mutual pining, alcohol consumption, throwing up/vomiting mentioned (if you're squeamish to that kind of thing), javi being javi, untranslated spanish, smut, p in v sex, overstimulation, there are feelings involved, unbeta'd, no use of y/n, if i missed any other tags pls let me know ok thx.

~ 4.2k w/c - gif found on pinterest - masterlist

a/n: i just want javier peña to look at me... is that too much to ask for?! this is tropey asf and not what i was initially thinking of writing when i got this ask—but i like how this lil one shot turned out. i hope you do too, bestie! 🖤

You’re in the middle of unpacking boxes in your new apartment, surrounded by a mess of your own doing, when a sharp knock on the door startles you. You weren’t expecting anyone.

Wiping your hands on your jeans, you head to the door and swing it open to reveal a striking woman. Auburn hair, sharp eyes—she’s undeniably beautiful, but her expression is less than friendly.

Her eyes narrow as she sizes you up. “¿Y tu quien putas eres?” she demands.

Before you can get a word out, she’s already pushing past you into your apartment, not waiting for an invitation. “¿Donde esta Javier? Malparido tramposo. ¡No te escondas de mí!” she continues, storming through your space like she owns it.

You stand there, dumbfounded at the absurdity, watching her move, her fury palpable. Your Spanish is still novice, at best, so you don’t really understand what she’s saying.

“Uh, I think you have the wrong—” you start, but she cuts you off again.

“Wrong, my ass.” She replies, her Colombian accent thick. “I know he lives here. All the Americans do—”

Your brain finally catches up and puts two and two together. She’s looking for Javier Peña. Your colleague and now, apparently, neighbor.

You’ve been quietly, hopelessly crushing on the agent since you started working at the embassy. And now you’re standing in the middle of your half-unpacked apartment while some furious woman is ranting about him.

You’re about to speak again when, as if summoned by the chaos, Javier himself strolls past your open door in the hallway. The woman halts, her eyes following him like a predator tracking its prey.

You see her face shift from righteous fury to utter confusion. It hits her finally—she’s in the wrong apartment, like you tried to tell her.

She mutters something you can’t understand, barely meeting your eyes before storming out, slamming the door behind her.

You stand there, blinking, still processing what just happened. If that was any indication on how things around here will go, at least you know you won’t be bored.

It’s later in the evening when there’s another knock at the door. You’re almost hesitant to answer, unsure if you’ll be met by another beautiful woman scorned, so this time you make sure to look through the peephole before blindly opening it.

It’s Javier.

You glance down at your clothes, suddenly self-conscious. You’re not exactly at your best, sweaty and disheveled from moving all day. Definitely not how you pictured running into him outside of work.

You take a deep breath, trying to pull yourself together, then open the door, “Hey.” You greet him, a little shy.

He leans casually against your doorframe, that signature smirk playing on his lips. “Sorry about earlier,” his deep voice sends a shiver down your spine. “Not the best way to be welcomed into the neighborhood.”

He glances past you, noticing the half-unpacked boxes scattered around your apartment, and you’re mortified for a second, wondering how messy everything must look through his eyes.

You laugh, though it’s a little shaky. “I, uh… didn’t know you lived next door.”

Javier grins, giving you a devastatingly handsome smile that you’ve only seen when he tries to bribe his way through some of the other girls at the office. “Yeah, been here since I moved to Bogotá,” his eyes linger on you, but you don’t notice with how you’re focused on not making a fool out of yourself. 

“Well I hope you and your… friend worked things out.”

He exhales through his nose in an amused laugh. “Somethin’ like that,” he says, sounding almost entertained by the whole thing. “I owe you for that inconvenience.”

Your heart stutters and you hope, no—pray, that your eyes haven’t morphed into hearts with the charming way he’s looking at you.

“It’s fine, really—“

“No, no. I insist. It was rude. The least I can do is make it up to you.”

Knowing he wasn’t going to back down, a stubborn man through and through, you give him a slight nod, trying to play it cool even though your nerves are buzzing. “Okay… sure, fine. You owe me.”

His smirk softens into a half-smile, a little less cocky. He pushes himself off your doorframe, straightening up. “Alright, cariño. I’ll see you around.” The word rolls off his tongue as if he’s said it a thousand times to you, but it lands right between your legs, sending warmth to your cheeks.

“Have a good night,” he adds with that enamoring gravelly voice of his.

You manage to mumble a goodbye, watching as he walks down the hall, his presence making the air feel electric. You’re left standing there, alone with the heavy realization that your harmless work crush just became a lot more dangerous.

Living next door to him is going to be torture.

Months go by, and torture would be an understatement.

You’ve developed an odd, friendly relationship with him. It’s not exactly what you imagined when you first laid eyes on him at the embassy, all brooding intensity and effortless charm, but it works.

You exchange casual greetings in the hallway, little snippets of small talk when you bump into each other at work. 

It’s... normal. Comfortable, in its own way. But every time he says your name, with that gravelly edge to his voice, something flutters in your chest.

He’s even taken it upon himself to help you with your Spanish, which is as endearing as it is embarrassing. On the days when you can steal a few moments to talk, he’ll have you practicing phrases, repeating them until he’s satisfied with your pronunciation. Sometimes, when he’s feeling particularly amused, he’ll leave a sticky note on your door with a new phrase scribbled on it for you to learn.

It’s become part of your routine. Him giving you little bits of language, you trying to impress him with how quickly you can pick it up. You tell yourself it’s just a… fun thing, nothing more.

Then there are the nights when you’ve made too much dinner. You know that man doesn’t eat. Not properly, anyway. So you bring over a plate, standing awkwardly at his door until he opens it, shirt half-buttoned and hair tousled, like he just rolled out of bed.

“Brought you something,” you say, trying to ignore the way your pulse quickens as his eyes flicker to yours, a mix of surprise and amusement.

“Thanks, cariño,” he takes the food from you with that half-smile that makes you feel like a damn schoolgirl.

But it’s not always like that. There are times when he’s away for days at a time. Out doing who knows what—your level of work doesn’t intersect with his at all. 

His return comes with whispers around the office or in the form of news broadcasts that seem to be reporting nothing but atrocities as of late.

In the dead of night, you’ll hear the sound of his boots echoing through the enclosed hallway, a sure sign he’s finally back. You wonder what he’s seen, what he’s done while he was gone. The thought keeps you restless sometimes, but you never ask. He doesn’t offer, either.

And then there are the women.

You hear them through the thin walls—his low voice, their laughter, the unmistakable sounds of them fucking. The rhythm of their pleasure reverberates through your apartment, impossible to ignore.

Every time it happens, you’re reminded of the rumors you’ve heard around the office. The whispers about Javier Peña, about how good he is in bed, about how women fall over themselves to spend a night with him. Now, you know firsthand that they’re true.

It stings more than you’d like to admit, considering how you feel about him but knowing that he doesn’t see you as anything but a friend. 

You’ve caught glimpses of him after his flings, too. You kind of wish you could wipe from your memory, if only to keep your sanity.

It’s during different times of the day, really, when he’s leaning casually against his doorframe like it’s the most natural thing in the world. He’s shirtless, skin still damp from a shower or maybe from the sweat he’s worked up, and his jeans hang sinfully low on his hips. The soft light from the hallway casts shadows over his golden chest, highlighting the faint beauty marks that map his body.

You do your best to keep your eyes averted, pretending you’re not affected, pretending you don’t notice the way his muscles flex as he stretches, or how his dark hair is tousled in that perfectly messy way. But your throat tightens every time, your stomach flipping at how effortlessly good he looks. It’s not fair how someone can make post-coital exhaustion look so damn attractive.

He’s usually saying goodbye to one of the lucky girls, tossing a wink their way, or brushing his fingers through their hair as they share a final kiss.

You tell yourself it’s just Javier being Javier, but it’s impossible to ignore the way jealousy twists in your chest when you see them, all blissed-out and satisfied, practically floating down the hallway after a night with him.

You turn your head, pretend you didn’t just catch a glimpse of him looking like some kind of god, and hurriedly unlock your door before he notices you staring. 

And sometimes, when you least expect it, he catches you.

You’re fumbling with your keys, doing your best to mind your own business, when his voice cuts through the silence. “Hey,” he calls out, casual as ever, and you freeze. Your hand stills on the doorknob, and you force yourself to look up.

Javier is standing there, half naked, leaning against his door as if he has all the time in the world.

You try to swallow the lump in your throat, “Hey.”

“You alright there, cariño?” he asks, voice low and rough, like he’s barely holding back a laugh after watching you struggle with your keys.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just had a long day.”

He hums, his stare lingering on you, and your heart pounds in a way you can’t quite control. But then, as if nothing’s changed, he shifts back into that familiar, teasing grin.

“Okay, don’t work too hard. Can’t have you burnin’ out before me.”

It all comes to a head one night at the bar near your place. You’re out with a secretary from a different department, downing margaritas like they’re water. You’re tipsy—no, you’re drunk, and the world is spinning just a little too fast.

That’s when you see him. He walks in like he owns the place, scanning the crowded space until his eyes land on you. He acknowledges you with a jut of his chin and you smile drunkenly at him, waving, before you’re brought back to the conversation with your friend.

He’s here for work, meeting one of his informants—a very pretty, very obvious, working girl. You hate how seeing him with her swirls the green in your drunken heart.

Maybe it’s the tequila talking, maybe it’s the months of pent-up frustration, but when Javier approaches as your coworker excuses herself to the bathroom, checking to see if you’re alright, your mouth runs faster than your brain.

“Don’t worry about me,” you slur, waving him off. “I’m sure you’d have more fun with her,” you add, nodding toward the woman with a sharp, sarcastic edge. “Probably more your type anyway.”

Javier raises an eyebrow, his expression shifting into a playful uncertainty, head tilting slightly. “What?”

You don’t know how to respond. Honestly, you’re not even sure you can form a coherent thought right now. All you know is that you’re in way over your head, and he is standing way too close.

But that liquid courage surges through your veins and the words are tumbling out of your mouth.

“It’s obvious, Javier,” your frustration is crystal clear, despite the way your words run into each other. “The kind of company you keep. They’re more fun,” You gesture vaguely toward his booth. “I’m just… here. A bore that’s drunk on a Wednesday night. It’s why you came to check on me. Why you’ve been overly nice.” Your words sting, even as they leave your lips.

The alcohol amplifies every insecurity you’ve kept buried.

The playful look on his face vanishes, replaced by hardened disbelief. His brows furrow, and for a moment, he just stares at you, like he’s trying to figure out how you could possibly think so little of yourself.

Instead of giving you an answer, he just reaches for his wallet in the back pocket of his jeans. “Come on,” he mutters, “I’m taking you home.”

You snort, shaking your head, another wave of dizziness washing over you. “See? Taking pity on me. Again.”

He rolls his eyes, unfazed by your drunken resistance. “That’s not what this is,” he pulls out a wad of cash and drops it on the bar top to settle your tab.

He makes sure your friend is taken care of, telling the bartender to call a cab for her. Then he goes to dismiss his informant—a woman he definitely had plans to sleep with. She seems surprised, but Javier brushes her off and hands her some money. 

Your drunken mind can’t quite comprehend that he’s choosing to deal with you instead. As he guides you outside, you make it difficult, stumbling and resisting as he tries to steer you toward his car.

“I can walk, Peña,” you grumble, though your legs aren’t exactly cooperating.

“Sure you can,” he says dryly, his arm wrapped around your waist to keep you upright. “You’re making this real easy.” He comments sarcastically.

You’re so going to regret this tomorrow when you’re fighting a hangover at your desk, thinking of how you just fucked up this friendship.

But right now, you can’t focus on anything but how warm his large hand feels against your side as he helps you into the passenger seat.

Your head lolls against the window, and you groan softly. “You didn’t have to do this, you know. You could’ve stayed with her.”

Javier slides into the driver’s seat, glancing at you as he starts the engine. “Everything you said back there was bullshit,” he says bluntly, pulling out of the parking lot. “You think I pity you? That I only talk to you because I feel bad? You really don’t know me at all.”

His words are cutting, but not in a cruel way. He sounds… disappointed. “I like spending time with you,” he continues, quieter now, more serious. “It’s not some charity case. You make me feel normal. When I’m with you, it’s like the rest of the shit I deal with doesn’t exist.” The faint hum of the radio fills the sudden silence.

“You… you’ve got this smile that makes me feel a little better about myself.”

The sincerity in his voice sobers you up just a little, enough for your foggy brain to process what he’s saying. You turn to look at him, eyes wide, but before you can fully grasp it, your stomach lurches.

“Oh no,” you groan, clutching your middle. “I’m gonna be sick.”

He glances at you, and in an instant, he’s speeding up, making it to your complex faster than you would’ve thought possible. He parks hastily, helps you out, and practically carries you to your apartment. The second the door swings open, you make a beeline for the bathroom, barely making it in time to empty your stomach into the toilet.

You hear him lingering by the door, then the sound of running water as he fills a glass in the kitchen. You hate that he’s seeing you like this—pathetic, drunk, and embarrassed.

When you finally sit back, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand, Javier is there, handing you the glass of water. His expression is soft, more concerned than anything.

“Drink,” he orders gently, crouching next to you. His voice is soothing, and for a moment, the embarrassment fades under the warmth of his presence.

You sip the water, avoiding his gaze, but he’s not letting this go. “You okay?”

You nod, not trusting yourself to speak.

He sighs, settling beside you on the bathroom floor. “You’re not a bore. Don’t say that shit.” His voice is firm, but there’s an undercurrent tenderness beneath it.

Your head is swimming—not just from the alcohol, but from everything that’s happened in the last hour. 

You lean your head back against the wall, the glass of water in your hand almost empty. With a soft sigh, you begin to speak, your tone hesitant.

“Sometimes… I just feel average, you know?” you admit, glancing at Javier from the corner of your eye. He’s sitting quietly beside you, his long legs stretched out in front of him,  gaze focused on some point on the floor. “Like there’s nothing more to me than this mediocre job, answering phones, filing papers. I mean, I didn’t move all the way to South America just for that.”

You pause, trying to organize your thoughts. “That’s why I transferred here. I thought maybe… maybe I’d find something more. Maybe I’d find me.” You laugh bitterly, shaking your head. “But ever since I got here, it’s been nothing but monotony and homesickness. I don’t even know if this is where I’m meant to be.”

The words hang between you. You’ve never said this out loud to anyone, never let yourself be so transparent.

Javier doesn’t say anything right away, and it makes you think that maybe you’ve said too much. But then, you hear him sigh softly, his shoulders slumping as if your rambling has hit something deep within him.

He’s silent as he digests your confession, and you’re about to apologize for oversharing when he finally speaks.

“I get it,” he replies, low and rough around the edges. He shifts beside you, resting his arms on his now bent knees while he stares at the floor. “You’re not the only one feeling that way.”

You blink, slightly taken aback by his agreement. You hadn’t expected him to relate—the sharp, confident DEA agent who always seems so sure of himself. He glances at you, offering a wry smile. “You’re not average,” his voice is firmer now, like he’s trying to make you believe it. “It takes time to figure out who you are, what you want. And if it feels like you haven’t found that yet, that doesn’t make you less than.”

There’s an irony in his words, and he lets out a soft chuckle, shaking his head. “I should probably take my own advice,” he admits.

Your heart flutters at his reassurance, but you can see it in his eyes—there’s more. Something heavier sits in his chest, pulling him down.

“What about you? What’s weighing on you?”

Javier sighs again, leaning his head back against the wall like you. “This job,” he says simply, but you can hear the exhaustion in his voice. “It’s… confusing. Difficult. Half the time, I don’t know what the hell I’m doing anymore. I thought I’d come here, do some good, but it’s just…” He trails off, his jaw tightening. “I’ve lost myself in all of it. The work. The women. Because I don’t know what else to do.”

Your chest tightens as he speaks, hearing the vulnerability in his words. He’s always seemed so unshakeable, but now you can see the cracks in his armor, all that he’s been carrying. And then he turns to look at you, his expression softening.

“But you,” he says quietly, “you’re the one thing that keeps me grounded in all this shit.”

You look down, not believing that he’s actually saying this to you. You have to be dreaming. 

“Your smile, the way your eyes light up when you’re happy. Shit, even the way you butcher half your Spanish words with that accent of yours.” He chuckles, and despite the heaviness of the moment, you can’t help but laugh with him.

The tension breaks for just a second, and when you finally meet his gaze again, your breath snags. He’s already staring at you, his beautiful brown eyes gleaming.

You quickly look away out of habit, your heart hammering in your chest, but then he calls your name softly. “Mírame, cariño,” he says, all gentle and insistent.

You swallow hard, forcing yourself to do so.

“I’m not just telling you this to score. I mean it.”

And you don’t doubt it for a second. However, the moment is too heavy, too intense for your tequila-soaked brain to handle. You can taste the lingering bitterness of the alcohol, your throat feels raw, and your head is already starting to pound. You’re too disoriented to fully process this moment that’s happening.

“I know,” you nod, picking at your cuticles, “I just don’t think right now is the best time to have this conversation.” Your words are punctuated by a hiccup and you bring your hand up to cover your mouth in fear of accidentally throwing up again.

Javier’s lips twitch with amusement, but he works his jaw, nodding in agreement. “You’re right. Not the best time,” he concedes, though the way he says it tells you he wanted this conversation to happen—needed it to.

“I just had to tell you. And if you genuinely feel like you don’t belong here then go home.” He tells you softly, though his cadence and the softening expression on his face say otherwise.

You glance at him, your lips curving into a weak smile. “While I do feel lost, I think half of all this is the margaritas’ doing,” you admit, your voice a little hoarse.

“Tequila’s dangerous like that,” he agrees with a small laugh, shaking his head. 

You take a deep breath, forcing yourself to push through the embarrassment still swirling around inside of you. “I’m sorry about what happened at the bar,” you say quietly. “I didn’t mean to be so self deprecating.”

He waves off your apology, his expression relaxed. “It’s no problem.”

“Thank you for bringing me home, and for… opening up like that… I know it wasn’t easy.” Your voice softens as you say it.

He gives you a small smile, but his eyes linger on you like you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. “You make it easy,” he says finally, the words leaving his mouth like a confession.

You sit there on the cool bathroom floor, your heart stumbling all over the place. Leaving isn’t an option anymore. Not when Javier Peña looks at you like this. Not after realizing that you mean so much more to him than you could have ever thought possible.

Javier hovers above you, his gaze locked with yours, filled with desire and adoration. Your legs are tightly wrapped around his waist, pulling him closer, deeper, feeling every inch of him as his hips move suavely while he fucks you. 

His breath is hot against your neck, biting and licking at your skin. You can barely keep your thoughts straight, your mind clouded with the pleasure he’s stirring in you, the rhythm of his body guiding you to that edge again and again.

He leans in, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispers, his voice a low growl, “You feel so good, baby. I can feel how close you are... all for me.”

Your body clenches around him in response, a soft whimper escaping your lips as the pleasure tightens inside you, building and building. It’s the fifth time tonight he’s coaxed this out of you, and you don’t know how you’re still holding on.

His weight presses against you and your nails dig into the broad expanse of his broad shoulders, pulling him impossibly close. His chest, warm and slick with sweat, crushes against yours, and the hairs at the base of his cock graze your swollen clit with every thrust, sending shockwaves through you.

You gasp, your voice trembling with each word. “Javier... I can’t... it’s too much.”

But he doesn’t stop, doesn’t relent, instead he grins down at you, a wicked spark in his eyes, pressing his lips against your temple, your cheek, the corner of your mouth—kissing you everywhere he can reach while his other hand keeps your jaw locked in place, fingers denting into your skin.

His lips finally find yours in a messy, urgent kiss, swallowing your moans as your body tightens around him again. You’re lost in what he’s giving you, your world spinning as your orgasm tears through you, leaving you a trembling mess beneath him.

His hips stutter as he groans your name, his cock twitching inside you while he comes. He stays there, still buried inside, his body heavy and comforting as the world fades back into focus.

When he finally pulls away, his touch softens. He’s gentle as he plants tender kisses on your forehead, your nose, your lips. His hand caresses your naked side, soothing you as your breathing slows. He shifts then, pulling you close into the safety of his arms, his body wrapped around yours.

“I’ve got you, sweetheart. Just relax.”

He stays with you, his hand tracing lazy circles on your back, murmuring soft reassurances until you’re completely at ease, your body melting into his.

started a tag list for my works here, so if you're interested— pls check it out 🖤

🏷️ : @almostempty . @persephone-girl . @magneticecstasy . @miss-oranje-disco-dancer . @pepperstories . @greenwitchfromthewoods . @maiyart . @pedrohoe04 . @natalieispunk . @thewisesalmon . @bitchesuntitled . @puddles221b . @swankyorange . @bbyanarchist . @thottiewinemom . @heyhihello-4771 . @danaehldy . @sunflowerfive . @libre-sol . @harriedandharassed . @untamedheart81 . @sunshinefive . @dinanabuu . @angiewatson .

[steddiealltheway]

It’s a cold Wednesday night in January that has Eddie turning the thermostat up and allowing the government supplied heat to fill the trailer. He glances up at the vents and gives them a quick middle finger, wondering if they bugged the place to observe him or make sure he isn’t spreading their secrets.

He doesn’t really care at this point if they’re watching though. They already held him at the hospital for long enough, poking and prodding as if he wasn’t even human. But he didn’t turn into a vampire or some shit because of those damn bats. No. The jagged, ugly scars littering his body served as a lovely reminder that he was ultimately human.

Eddie glances at a nearby mirror and cringes at his face, taking a look at the long scar running down his cheek, jaw, and neck. The Corroded Coffin guys all said it made him look metal, and he would throw in a, “Hell yeah,” before smoothly changing the subject to something that didn’t involve him for once.

He takes a finger and slowly trails it over the pale pink skin, wondering if there will ever be a day he won’t notice it.

“Eddie,” Steve calls out gently from the room down the hall.

Eddie jumps back and glances toward him, hand falling to his side and flexing uncomfortably as if he’s been caught doing something wrong.

“You okay?”

Eddie smiles and gestures toward the thermostat. “Damn thing wasn’t working for a minute there. You’d think with the amount of hush hush money they were able to pay all of us, they’d be able to give me and Wayne a better trailer.”

But Steve only crosses his arms and leans against the door frame, eyebrows raising gently. It’s not entirely accusatory, but it’s clear that he doesn’t believe a thing Eddie’s saying.

Although they’ve grown close while going through the same treatment and tests in Owen’s new secret facility, it still surprises Eddie how easily Steve can read people. More specifically, how easily he can read him of all people. “Just got lost in thought,” Eddie confesses while making his way back to his room as he sees Steve squint at the lights in the living area.

Steve steps out of the way as Eddie brushes by him and closes the door. He hope it’s enough honesty to end the conversation.

“What were you thinking about?” Steve asks, ignoring the signals Eddie is giving him.

Eddie sighs and runs a hand over his face and climbs back into his bed, quick to pull up the blanket around himself in an attempt to get some much needed warmth while simultaneously covering his scars from Steve. “Stuff.”

Steve rests his hands on his hips for a second and stares, mouth opening and closing for a moment before deciding against whatever he was going to say. Instead, he climbs into the bed with Eddie and joins him under the blanket, keeping enough distance so they’re not touching, but they can still feel each other’s body heat.

Eddie glances over at him, noticing the way the one lamp turned on in the room gives him a nice golden halo. He looks gorgeous and untouchable - exactly how Eddie used to think of him through high school and sometimes even now. The perfect golden boy. But despite the name Eddie gave to him years ago, he can’t ignore the flaws that Steve possesses, yet they somehow make him even more perfect to him. Or maybe just human.

Eddie shakes his head and glances away. He wishes Steve came over to smoke so Eddie could blame the drugs on the way his thoughts race when he’s next to him. Instead, he has to face up to his enormous crush on the perfect golden boy.

“Have any plans for Valentine’s Day?” Steve asks out of the blue.

Eddie snorts and glances at him, only to laugh harder when he sees the adorable look of confusion on his face.

Steve’s brows furrow but the edges of his lips quirk up. “What?”

Eddie pulls a strand of hair in front of his face to try to hide his wife smile. “Kind of random, don’t you think?”

Steve rolls his eyes. “I never said I was great at starting conversations. But I was just thinking about what holiday is next.”

“The worst one,” Eddie complains.

Steve turns toward him. “And why’s that?”

Eddie sighs and let’s himself go on a tangent. “It’s the one day of the year where people feel like they have to do all this shit for their partner, and the rest of the year, they think they can just get by doing the bare minimum. And people are left realizing what it would be like if their ‘other half’ actually put in an effort day to day. And then for all the single people, it’s a day where love is shoved in their face, and they have to feel bad and sometimes disgusted by all the public displays of affection going on around them and… I just hate it all. The stupid chocolates in the red heart boxes and the teddy bears and big heart shaped balloons and roses…”

“I didn’t realize you had such strong opinions about Valentine’s Day,” Steve says with a laugh.

“Well, now you do.”

They both sit in the silence for a few moments, Eddie thinking about all the other things he didn’t even touch on about Valentine’s Day that he hates, while Steve is probably taking in everything he just said.

Steve bumps his shoulder and asks, “So, I’m assuming that means you have no plans.”

Eddie laughs. “That’s what you got out of that?”

Steve shrugs and looks away with a smile.

Eddie glances at his clock and notices it’s technically Thursday now, and in these early hours, Steve will usually either silently fall asleep or he’ll lay awake in the silence until one of his thoughts has to make itself known.

Either way, Eddie knows he’ll be up for a few more hours, but he’s never regret the sleep he’s lost since they’ve made this silent arrangement.

The bed shifts, and Eddie follows Steve’s lead, laying down fully and staring at the ceiling, trying his best not to reach out for the hand laying beside his. He wonders if he should add something to the ceiling like some type of mural with stars and whatnot.

He tilts his head to the side, envisioning how it would look in the lamplight since he and Steve refuse to sleep in the dark. Or maybe it’s just Steve and Eddie’s picked up on the habit of leaving the lamp on.

“Do you think you’ll make plans?” Steve asks quietly.

Eddie turns to look at him, at a lost for a moment before realizing he’s still on the Valentine’s Day subject. He smiles sadly, “No.” Steve glances over at him and holds his gaze, expecting more. Eddie sighs and gestures at himself. “I mean, I’m not exactly what people want to bring home to their parents at the moment plus with the,” he gestures to his face and drops his hand quickly, averting his gaze back to the ceiling.

He hopes Steve will let it go and not connect the dots back to earlier.

A silence settles between them, but Steve’s gaze burns into the side of Eddie’s face. Then, he finally asks, “Is that what distracted you earlier?” When Eddie doesn’t answer he continues, “I saw you looking in the mirror, and I know you usually go out of your way to avoid them.”

Eddie wants to question how Steve noticed, but he doesn’t want to get his hopes up about something that was just passively rather than intentionally observed. “Yeah,” Eddie states simply.

The bed shifts as Steve turns on his side to fully face him. “And you really think you can’t get a date because of them?”

Eddie sighs and rubs both of his hands over his face. “Steve, who is ever going to love me like this?” He turns and continues, “Privately, yes, someone could maybe get past the scars. But in public? You really think someone is going to be proud to say, ‘Here’s my boyfriend,’ and show off me?”

“Yes,” Steve says instantly as if he has no doubt in the world.

Eddie turns away, trying not to get choked up about it. Because how can he explain to him that while it’s nice that Steve has that confidence in him, Eddie wants Steve to be the one to be proud of him. To want him like that.

“Do you think my scars make me unlovable?” Steve asks.

“No! Jesus, Steve,” Eddie rushes to say and turns to him. He reached out and lays a hand over his side, feeling the way the skin puckers under the thin t-shirt. “These are metal as hell. Hot even. They make you more lovable if anything.”

Steve grabs Eddie’s hand and slowly pulls it off his side to hold it up, the scar on it being presented out to Eddie. “And this doesn’t make you more lovable?”

“Steve…” Eddie protests quietly as Steve pulls his hand close to stare at it.

“The scars you got protecting us. You think those make you less lovable?” Steve asks, pulling his hand close enough that his lips ghost over the skin.

Eddie lets out a breath that sounds like Steve as Steve presses a soft kiss into the tough skin. He stares at Eddie with a worried look in his eyes as he whispers, “Too much?”

Eddie shakes his head, too stunned to get the words out.

Steve intertwines their hands and pulls Eddie’s arm toward him. “These scars,” he says kissing the next one on his forearm, “Are beautiful on you.” He moves on to the scar on his elbow stretching to his bicep, lips trailing against the sensitive unmarked skin and leaving a trail of goosebumps behind. “How could anyone hate these?” He asks leaving three soft, lingering kisses before shifting on the bed to hover above Eddie, still holding his hand but now against his stomach so he can press a kiss against his shoulder. “These scars show everyone what you were willing to sacrifice for us.”

As Steve moves to the scar on his neck, Eddie’s head drops back, giving him more access as he groans out, “Steve.”

“These scars,” Steve says, kissing up his neck over and past the scars, “Are exactly,” he murmurs as he kisses past his jaw and peppers kisses up his cheek, “Why I love you,” Steve finishes by pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth near where the scar that Eddie traced earlier ends.

Eddie glances up at Steve as he hovers over him, trying to make sense of everything he’s saying until it finally clicks. “You love me?” Eddie asks.

Steve nods and squeezes his hand before letting it go so he can lightly caress his cheek. “I have since you decided to be a hero and sacrifice yourself. Which was exactly what I told you not to do by the way.”

“I’ve never been great at following rules,” Eddie breathes out and reaches a hand up to run through Steve hair. “Steve?”

“Mhm?”

“I love you, too,” Eddie confesses.

Steve smiles and asks, “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Eddie says. He pauses before adding, “You know, one time when I was little, I captured a squirrel and it may have attacked me and left a scar on my lip.”

Steve laughs. “Is that so?”

Eddie smiles and nods.

Steve’s eyes dart down to Eddie’s lips and he moves his thumb to swipe over his top lip. “You know, I think I see it.”

Eddie debates telling him that it was actually his bottom lip, but instead he just breathes out, “Steve.”

“Yeah?” Steve asks with a teasing smile.

“Steve.”

Steve keeps smiling as he hums, “Hmm?” When Eddie huffs, Steve fakes surprise with a gasp, “Oh. You want me to find the picture for you!”

Eddie groans, “Steve!”

“Uh huh?”

Eddie huffs and cups his face. “You are infuriating.”

“Is that s-”

Eddie interrupts him by taking matters into his own hands and leaning up to kiss him. He feels Steve smile against his lip before finally kissing him back.

Steve pulls away and breathlessly asks, “So, do you think you’ll have plans for Valentine’s Day now?”

Eddie’s head thumps back on the pillow. “Oh my god.” Steve laughs. “Oh my god!” Eddie says and shoves Steve off of him only to roll over so he hovers above him. “You were trying to ask me out this whole time?”

“No, I just wanted to know your opinion of Valentine’s Day.”

Eddie gives him a light punch to the arm and smiles wide as he stares down at Steve, lying beneath him in the golden lamp light. His perfect golden boy.

“I still hate it by the way. Even if I have plans now,” Eddie comments seriously.

“Don’t worry, I’ll put in the effort year round for you and make sure to keep you away from the public that day,” Steve says running a hand through Eddie’s curls before tracing it down the scar on his cheek in a way he thought no one would be able to do - lovingly.

Eddie leans down and gives Steve a quick peck. “I’ve also got some scars on my hips I might want you to check out.”

Steve laughs loudly and pulls him into a kiss that truly makes Eddie breathless, all while tracing his hand over the scar on his cheek. And for the first time, Eddie learns to love the scars adorning his body.

[only-1-a]

Imagining this within the first week of Charles and Edwin knowing each other. Charles has helped Edwin catch up on a BIT of what’s happened in the last 70 years, but Edwin can tell that Charles’ knowledge and strengths are not in history (finding out there was an even worse world war right after The Great War was certainly horrific though). So Edwin decides his best bet is to look in the public archives. Charles is sitting in the room with him absolutely bored out of his skull when he comments “Wow, you weren’t joking about not being great at people, were you?”

To which Edwin’s patience runs out, and he snidely responds, “Evidently not. If my researching the events of the last seventy years is so off-putting to you, then you can leave.”

Edwin was expecting some kind of token protest, but instead Charles just hops up, and says, “Cheers mate. See you.” Then LEAVES. Just like that. Edwin would like to be offended, but he supposes he did tell Charles to go. He just thought there would have been more to it than that? It almost feels…anticlimactic. At least he and Charles barely knew each other. Better to cut their losses now than get attached. Even as he thinks it he can’t help but feel maybe he was already growing attached.

So he spends the whole day digging through the archive and he learns so much about the past half century. It’s amazing and daunting just how much as changed. No wonder Charles hadn’t been able to go over even a fraction of it. It’s like the world is a completely different place.

He’s engrossed in his research when a head pops in through the door, and violently startles him with a cheerful, “Hey mate!” Edwin doesn’t have a heartbeat, but if he did it would be running a mile a minute from that fright. Charles is just grinning as he walks through the door. “I have to say, that’s my favourite part of being dead so far. I can just walk through walls.” Charles continues to chat happily, completely oblivious to Edwin’s shock.

Eventually Edwin gains enough of his senses back to interrupt Charles and say, “You came back.”

Charles just cocks his head, but he’s still smiling. “Yeah bruv. You’ve been here ALL DAY. The sun’s started going down. I know we don’t need to eat or sleep, but I figure you should take a break. Plus all the people playing football at the park left, so I got bored.”

Edwin doesn’t quite know what to say to that. He’s still working on the fact Charles came back. Charles hadn’t planned on leaving in any permanent way. He just went to do his own thing while Edwin did his. Yet instead of anything intelligent coming out of his mouth, he says “Football?”

“Oh c’mon! I know you had football even a thousand years ago. Yeah, I went to play with some other guys at the park across the street.”

Edwin snorts at that, and isn’t that a strange and wonderful feeling, laughing after all this time. He doesn’t even know if he did it often before he went to Hell, but here Charles has been making him laugh on and off for the week they’ve known each other. “Yes, we had football. You’ll have to explain how you managed to play a team sport without being seen by either team. You are right though. If it’s getting dark out, they’ll be turning the lights out in here soon. We might as well leave for the day.”

“Cheers. Mostly it involved messing with the ball so it went the wrong way when they kicked it. Oh! I kicked one over a fence. Do you think we can go grab it? How about your day? Learn anything exciting?”

Edwin leads them out, and now in a much better mood he shares something he thinks Charles will enjoy. “As a matter of fact, there was quite a lot about how music evolved, and styles from the Americas really took off since the 20s.”

[daisynik7]

I know I loved you from the start

“Tell me.”

You cross your arms over your chest in defiance. “No way.” 

Nanami smirks at you, forearms resting on the table. “Pretty please?” 

He’s asking you when you first knew you liked him, a question you’re embarrassed to admit the answer to. And it’s not fair when he looks at you like this. The twitch of mirth on his lips, the soft gaze in his eyes, his fingers inching towards yours, yearning to be closer, longing for a touch. He’s making it very difficult to resist. 

Still, he underestimates your stubbornness. He’s not going to get it out of you that easily. Adamant, you shake your head, pressing your lips together tightly, not giving in. 

Laughing, he finally relents, relaxing in his seat, holding his hands up in surrender. “Fine. I’ll let it go.” 

The two of you are in the break room, finished with lunch, neither of you eager to return to your separate cubicles. It’s just you and him, though there’s still that risk of any one of your colleagues walking in on something they shouldn’t see. A longing glance, a tender touch, a chaste kiss. Your current romance is a secret to the office, and it shall remain that way for the time-being. Involving others makes it complicated, and one of the things you enjoy most about being with Nanami is how easy it is. 

The reason you’re reluctant to answer his question is because from the beginning, you liked him. Smitten is the better word for it. He was the new hire that nearly everyone fawned over the minute he set foot through the door, and you were no exception to his quiet charm. His obvious physical attraction and even more evident kindness made people gravitate towards him. But it was something else that caught your attention on his first day of work: a box of warm croissants from your favorite bakery that he carried with him to share. You marveled at the wonderful goodies with a bright smile on your face, rambling on and on to him. How the owner of that bakery studied patisserie in the heart of France before moving to Japan. Why the pastry is so delicate, due to the number of laminations. The butter they use being imported from Europe and how it really makes a difference. Nanami listened to every word of it intently, nodding along with a polite smile on his face. 

It's so silly, so insignificant, so trivial, it’s not even worth mentioning. And so you don’t. 

You’ve exhausted as much of your break time as possible, finally ready to return to work after you clean up. You’re at the sink, rinsing both yours and his container under the faucet. He stands behind you, waiting. Watching.

The sudden slide of his hands on your hips startles you, but you don’t look back. Instead, you hold your breath in anticipation, shuddering slightly as he gently presses his chest to your back, his mouth grazing the shell of your ear. “For the record, I knew from the very start,” he whispers, breath warm and ticklish on your skin. 

Before you can turn around to face him, Nanami’s already walking away, leaving you alone with wet hands and a racing heart.

Author's Note: Part of the past lives vignettes series! Divider credit to @/cafekitsune. Title inspired by the song "From the Start" by Laufey. Thank you for reading!

[hannieehaee]

Hey! I was wondering if you could write about one of the svt memberd being super good friends with the reader, like touchy. And everyone else is begging them to get together? 💛

content: f2l!chan, afab reader, seungkwan is far too nosy and too involved for his own good, fluff, etc.

wc: 1485

a/n: i wrote about channie since i think the while friends to lovers thing fits him super well hehe i hope u enjoy <3

masterlist

you and chan had been good friends for a good while now. well, no. it had been further than a good while. you'd known each other since you were young children.

despite chan's life taking a very drastic turn very early on upon his decision to become an idol, the two of you remained friends regardless. your friendship was truly one for the books. to chan's parents you were considered part of the family, which allowed the two of you to spend almost every waking moment together.

this pattern followed you into adulthood, a time in which you somehow becoming even more attached to the hip. his packed idol schedule never really got in the way of your friendship since chan would always insist on having you tag along, allowing you to take the role of one of chan's personal staff members in order to keep you as close to him as he could. this resulted in your friendship extending onto the rest of the members, who had known you since chan had first joined the company, practically treating you like yet another member of their family due to your constant presence.

now, your friendship with chan was quite special. the two of you were the closest duo that any of the members had ever seen. if anyone thought that chan was touchy with any member of seventeen, they surely hadnt seen how touchy he was with you. his hands were never off you for too long, nor his eyes. he was in constant watch of you, dragging you away from his members if they ever dared steal you away. if chan had a hotel room booked for tour, you were sleeping in bed right beside him. if he was at dance practice, he was cuddling you on the hardwood floor during his breaks. the boy practically broke out in hives if you were not in his arms, and the same could be said about you.

this was something the members used to find endearing; with the operative words being 'used to.' when you were teenagers, they had all seen it as cute and innocent puppy love between two childhood friends. however, the expectation had been that by the time the two of you turned 20, you wouldve snapped out of it and realized your very clear feelings for each other. but contrary to their assumptions, the two of you were now on your 24th year of age and had yet to move past the label of friendship. the thought of the two of you uselessly repressing your feelings for each other had most of the members going insane (mostly seungkwan) by then, which was something a few members had recently started to make known to their youngest brother.

~

one of the first few times in which seungkwan chan's friends began to show their frustrations at his lack of action in making you his took place on a regular afternoon. seungkwan and chan were walking together into the halls of the hybe building, with seungkwan suddenly inquiring as to why he didn't just close the deal with you and made it official.

"i told you it's not like that! we're just friends, that's it", whined chan for the nth time that week.

"i dont buy it. neither of you has ever been in a long term relationship. you're just playing the long game for no reason. she likes you, just ask her out!", seungkwan began to get exasperated at the stupid obliviousness of his friend.

"we work too much, it's– we have no time for relationships."

"'we'? see! you come as a package deal. just date each other!"

"hyung, just drop it. it doesn't mean anything," he groaned before parting ways as chan went onto some individual schedule and seungkwan joined vernon to head over to do a live together.

"what was that about?", inquired an unsuspecting vernon.

"asked him about y/n again."

"ohhh. don't worry about it. they'll see it for themselves one day. it's too obvious."

"yeah. guess you're right."

~

another instance in which chan was yet again bullied over his lack of self-awareness of his relationship with you was only a few days later. mingyu and seungkwan had just happened to walk in on you and chan playing badminton in the practice room. chan was wrapped around you from behind, hands holding onto yours, guiding your movements as jun played on the other side of the net. you were a mess of giggles as the ridiculous scene played in front of seungkwan's eyes.

"why do you look so disgusted?", spoke up mingyu, noticing the scowl on seungkwan's face.

"he's just so– he's an idiot! that's the love of his life! can't he just ask her out?"

"hmm. you're right. don't worry too much about it. i mean, look at them. it's only a matter of time."

"they're wasting years they could've spent together. god, why is he so dumb?", he wondered out loud, only earning a chuckle from his friend as the two of them joined in on your game

~

the next and final time seungkwan felt the need to express his frustration at your stubbornness had been upon walking into the practice room to find the two of you cuddled up on the floor. cuddled up might've been too light a term, seeing as you were laying completely on top of him with your face buried into the crook of his neck. your arms were nowhere to be found as they were dug into chan's hoodie, likely holding onto his bare back.

seungkwan scoffed at the sight. his friend looked far too content to be cuddling with a platonic friend. you looked too content to be cuddling with a platonic friend. the domesticity of it made seungkwan sick (okay, maybe he was being dramatic, but the two of you were far too frustrating to him!), causing him to walk over to you with judgement in his features.

"really?", was the first word out of his mouth as he stood over the two of you.

"wha ..?", chan tilted his head in confusion.

"this is platonic?"

"hyung, not this again ...", he groaned out, burying his head on your neck for a change.

you began to groggily sit up, now sitting on chan's lap rather than laying on top of him, "what are you guys talking about?"

"you know! there's no way you dont," seungkwan squinted his eyes at you as an annoyed look made its way onto his face.

"what?"

chan unburied his head from your neck, "he keeps insisting i ask you out because he thinks the way we act around each other isn't entirely platonic an-"

seungkwan interrupted before he could finish.

"our friendship is platonic. you ... you're a couple that's just too scared to put the actual label on it. you're driving me insane. either go out or stop being all over each other at all times!"

chan groaned out at his friend yet again, dropping his head to your chest as he hugged you closer to him. he took a breath against your chest before lifting his head back up, shooting his friend a glare before speaking up again.

"fine," he then turned to look at you, "will you be my girlfriend?"

his tone of voice sounded fed up, making anyone think that he did not mean his words. you, however, still sleepy and not fully understanding the context of the situation, lit up immediately at his words.

"yes!", you grinned at him, ignoring the presence of seungkwan and any other member who was now paying attention at the scene seungkwan had formed.

chan had to do a double take, staring at seungkwan and then darting his eyes right back at you, "w– what? you like me back?!"

"'back!'", seungkwan exclaimed with a gasp, "i knew it!"

"kwannie, shut up," it was seungcheol interjecting this time. about five members were now invested in the scene in front of them.

"yeah, of course i do ... were you not being serious?", you seemed put off by all the attention, but still putting all your focus on chan, who was still holding onto you as his wide eyes bore into yours.

"yes! i mean no– yes, i was being serious! be my girlfriend? please? wait, no. i wanna do this in private. c'mon, baby, let's go," he rushed to get the two of you up, grabbing your hand as he led you out of the room in a hurry, huge grins glued to both your faces as you giggled at each other.

seungkwan was left standing there, completely flabbergasted at how quickly it had all unfolded. suddenly he felt a hand pat his shoulder and a voice speak right next to him.

"huh. guess you were right," it was hannie.

yeah. he was right. now he could finally have peace knowing he had been successful in matchmaking his most stubborn friend.

a/n: chan asking reader out was inspired by that one tiktok of the guy who asked his bff to be his gf on video but she didnt know he was recording and she was all like 'yes :D!!!!' n he was all like ':00 okay!!!' idk i just found it so cuteshsjos

[crowleysgirl56]

Ok, so I wanted to do a deeper dive into this particular passage of Good Omens:

For context, this is at the climax of the book, they’re at Tadfield airbase, the horsemen have been dispensed with, Aziraphale has his body back, and Satan is about to claw his way out of the pit.

In most of the proceeding chapters involving Crowley it talks a lot about how scared Crowley is. He is very scared of Hell.

One could perhaps say maybe he is scared of them due to The Arrangement, but that is never explicitly stated. I think it has more to do with Hell is bad, and Crowley has spent the majority of the book being yelled at by some entity through the radio or TV telling him how he’s going to be in super amounts of trouble when they get their hands on him. He is just scared of what will happen. When he comes across the book shop burning he doesn’t cry for his lost friend. He curses Aziraphale, and I think it’s because the one person who may have been able to keep him safe and protected from Hell is now gone.

So when he thinks to himself (as shown in the above screen shot) that there is now nothing left for him to lose, this is why I never thought (upon reading the book the first time that is) there were any romantic feelings between him and Aziraphale. I know that technically he had already lost Aziraphale. But by this point he was back again, and back in his body. If there truly were romantic thoughts between them surely the idea of losing him again would come up.

I have read so much fanfiction, some old, some new, and what they all have in common is the detailed inner monologue of Crowley’s turmoil over his feelings for Aziraphale and how he doesn’t feel like he can act on them. In the book we get nothing of the sort, from either character. Even when they’re separated there is hardly ever any description of them thinking of the other except occasionally to frame a short reference to something. Reading the book I never got the impression that there was anything more than two ethereal beings spending time and proximity to each other and doing work for each other for no other reason than they’re essentially a bit lazy.

I think they’re only queer coded for the fact that there’s the line about Aziraphale appearing “gayer than a tree full of monkeys on nitric oxide”, and Crowley is, well, very Freddie Mercury coded. Them being seen as gay together and all the gay slurs in the awful racist scenes of Aziraphale body hopping about in culturally indigenous people after the bookshop fire has more to do with the very typical 80’s/90’s trope of “being gay = comedy gold”, than them actually being together romantically.

I think the reason why they were shipped so much after the publication however is for the same reason we ship so many male couples (or female couple) in modern media, why we’ve always shipped them: because of the complete and horrid lack there of, of proper queer representation.

If you’ve ever seen the magnificent Russel T Davies TV series It’s a Sin, there is a wonderful scene where the character Ash starts a job in a school library and the headmaster asks him to go through all the books and find any book that has queer love scenes so they can be removed. Ash then gives a most beautiful and impassioned speech (albeit it turns out the speech is just in his head) of how there is nothing. Absolutely nothing. There is nothing to the point where they are nonexistent. They are invisible. They are not seen. (Or like, something to that effect. I tell you though, it’s bloody brilliant).

So I think that’s rather the point really. You have two iconic characters, albeit supporting bit characters practically, and I think a lot of our minds automatically get drawn to wanting to put them together because of the sheer lack of queer couples. People have been doing it for years from Frodo and Sam, to Harry Potter and Draco (or Ron I guess), to Sherlock and Watson (even before the Benedict Cumberbatch show. Also as an aside let’s not get into how obsessed people got about Sherlock Holmes back in the day when those books were first published. The obsession was the reason Doyle killed the character off the in first place, then after getting letters from people telling him they were literally going to kill themselves, the reasons why he resurrected him again. Don’t tell us that modern day nerds are weird and obsessive. We’ve ALWAYS been like this).

It’s for this reason why queer representation is so god damn important. Why I still support the idea of Good Omens season 3. Because regardless of how the characters were originally intending to be represented in the book, it’s very clear now that they are so much more than “Just friends”. And we NEED that! Whether you subscribe to the idea that they will be physically intimate with each other, the fact remains is they love each other. They love each other immensely. And that comes from years of Terry Pratchett (and the other guy) accepting that canon and telling fans that it’s true. Because Michael Sheen made a choice and held a belief about how he saw his character and then David Tennant followed suit. That literally tens of thousands of fanfiction writers have decided the same.

So that’s my take. I don’t think loving each other was ever intended that way in the book, but in the last 35 years their story has morphed into the ineffable husbands that we now know.

What are your thoughts? Have I rambled on long enough to make any sense? Do you agree? Have I missed something completely obvious and gotten it all wrong? Keen to hear thoughts.

[galactic-magick]

Be Proud: Viktor x Reader

Summary: Viktor's newfound fame as the co-founder of Hextech has taken its toll on your insecurities.

Words: 2.1k

Warnings: mentions and allusions to body dysmorphia/eating disorders

Author's Note: I starting writing this to play with the idea of how founding Hextech probably gave Jayce and Viktor celebrity status in a way and how that would affect them and people involved with them. It ended up turning into a vent fic about my body image issues as well, to the point I almost didn’t post because it got so personal. But I figured there’s people out there who relate and might find solace in reading this as I did writing it.

-

-

-

You’re so proud of him. Everything he’s accomplished, everyone he’s helped. He’s living his dream, creating the future, and he’s being listened to and valued by topsiders. This is all you’ve ever wanted for him, and you would never think of standing in his way.

Which is precisely why you’ve never told him how insecure it all makes you feel.

Before Viktor got involved with Hextech, life was so much more predictable. You both could live your days together in peace, never being in the spotlight and rarely interacting with the highest of powers in Piltover. Life was hard, sure, but nothing you couldn’t manage without some tasteful spite and stubbornness. Viktor always knew his background would be a stumbling block for him up here, and you really weren’t much farther ahead, being from a title-less family with half your relatives from the Undercity.

But you’re not used to being around such glamour and poise. As Viktor becomes more involved with the Council and the wealthier areas of Piltover, making Hextech gadgets per their requests and being invited to fancy events, you’re left mourning simpler times. You’ll never get used to people coming up to you on the street while you bring your husband some lunch, or people staring at you during conferences when you’re just there to support him. Everyday citizens want to know and analyze everything about you, simply because you’re married to Piltover’s finest scientist.

You don’t like to bother Viktor with how it’s affected you, especially since he’s so good at handling it all. He’s always been so proud of who he is—where he came from—because he’s had to be. He’s not phased by the new fame as the co-founder of Hextech, and he easily shrugs off any comments people make about his past or his looks. To him, celebrity status is just a slight annoyance that occasionally distracts him from doing his work in the labs. But for you, it’s brought back every insecurity you’ve ever had about yourself.

You’ve stopped joining him as much at dinners and banquets because you fear they’ll judge how you look in a dress. You’ve stopped chiming in to interviews so you don’t say something stupid and embarrass him. You’ve stopped visiting him so much while he’s working so people won’t talk to or see you on the street.

You’ve started picking yourself apart in the mirror again, fussing every morning until you might cry. You compare yourself to the beautiful specimens that surround you, perfect in face, body, and manners. You start wondering if people judge how you speak or how much you eat. You wonder if people gossip about your family origins or your marriage. You wonder if you really, really, tried—if you could look like them. If you could be like them.

Viktor has started to stay back from some events with you lately, claiming Jayce is better at being the face of Hextech anyway. But tonight marks the five year anniversary of the company, and Councilor Medarda insisted there be a grand celebration.

The feast and dance will be held in her personal mansion, with the rest of the council and all the investors invited, as well as several reporters and journalists. Jayce will give an update address on what they’ve been working on, and what they hope to achieve by the bicentennial Progress Day.

This is something you can’t get out of and you know it. You drive yourself crazy trying on every dress in your closet, hoping to find something suitable for the affair. Half of them don’t even fit, which sends you into a further spiral, and the ones that do still don’t look good enough in your reflection.

Now the floor is covered in failed attempts at getting dressed, negative thoughts taking over your mind. Thoughts you know aren’t true, but you can’t stop thinking them.

He’ll be embarrassed to be seen with me.

I’m not good enough to be here.

I should eat less.

If I tried harder I could look like her.

I should check how much I weigh again. What happened to that damn scale?

They only invited me because they have to.

They probably talk about me—

You’re so deep in your head that you jump when you see Viktor leaning against the door frame, eyes full of love and concern.

“Are you alright, darling?”

You look down at yourself, wearing the last dress you had in your closet. It fits perfectly, but that’s part of the problem.

Viktor moves towards you as tears well in your eyes. He wipes them away with his thumbs, smearing some of the makeup you put on earlier.

“Talk to me,” he says.

“No.” you reply, avoiding his gaze.

“No?” he chuckles. “Why not?”

“It’s so stupid,” you sigh. “I thought I recovered from this. I should be able to handle this.”

“Handle what?”

“All this publicity shit!” you finally look at him. “I hate being watched and talked about and judged for what I say and look like all the time. I hate being asked about personal things and nearly passing out because I’m scared to eat in front of people. I hate all these superficial gatherings that are probably just for show-”

“You’re alright, you’re alright,” he cuts you off, dropping his crutch to the floor and wrapping his arms around you. “Why didn’t you tell me you’ve been feeling this way? Why didn’t you tell me it was getting bad again?”

You sniffle, “I...I didn’t want to bother you with something that doesn’t seem to bother you. You’re so good at being confident no matter what people say about you.”

“You think it doesn’t bother me?” he questions. “You think it doesn’t hurt me every time I overhear insults about me or my home, let alone when they say it to my face? You think I don’t notice that most of these people wouldn’t blink an eye if I died if it wasn’t for what I can offer them?”

He squeezes you tighter before slightly pulling away to look at your face, “I’m just better at hiding what it does to me, darling. Having a drive to prove myself is not the same as confidence. Now,” he kisses your forehead, “Tell me why you’ve been in here for over an hour and still aren’t ready, hm?”

“Well,” you gesture to the piles on the floor. “Those ones don’t fit. I must’ve gained more weight but I don’t really know for sure because I can’t find the scale. And those ones I just don’t like. And this one does fit, but it’s tight and I’ve never worn something form-fitted to an event before. I don’t want to deal with comments about my stomach sticking out or my arms looking puffy or whether I’m proportioned to their tastes.”

“You truly believe they’ll say those things?”

“I don’t know what they’ll say. That’s what’s so scary.”

The tears return, falling slowly down your cheeks.

“Darling,” Viktor says softly. “No one will ever think or say anything as horrible as what you think and say about yourself. I promise you that.”

You nod, allowing him to soothe you, “I know.”

“I need you to tell me when these thoughts are getting bad. Do you understand? I never want you to go so long feeling this way ever again,” he tilts your chin. “Do you understand?”

“I understand.”

“Good. Now, if you really don’t want to go, I’ll make up an excuse to get us out of it. But…” he slides his hands down your curves, “...it would be quite a shame if I didn’t get to see you wearing this all night.”

“You actually think it looks good?”

“Of course,” his eyes travel down your figure. “You always look perfect to me.”

“But-”

“No buts. Listen to me,” he faces you towards the mirror. “This body has gotten you through so much. I want you to be proud. Most of these people have never known a day of true hardship, but not you. You’re strong and you’re soft and you’re beautiful, and you’re the only one I’ll ever desire.”

You smile, knowing he means every word. You try to see what he sees, remembering every time he’s showered you with praise. You know he’s never once agreed with any of the horrible things you think about yourself. You know he loves everything about you, including how your body compliments his smaller, angular one. He’s never made you feel bad about anything, so why is it still so hard to believe him?

“Thank you, Viktor,” you say, turning to kiss his cheek. “I’ll try to be proud.”

“Good,” he nods. “Now, no more worrying about the scale or falling into old habits, alright? I want you to enjoy yourself tonight.”

“Fine, fine, I’ll try,” you laugh a bit. “You know what happened to it, though, don’t you?”

“Of course. I threw it out months ago,” he smirks. “You think I didn’t notice you checking it every single day?”

“You’re too good to me,” you bend down to pick his crutch up off the floor and hand it to him. “Let me just fix my makeup and we can go.”

“No more crying it off, alright?” he chuckles.

-

Jayce and Mel are waiting for you, welcoming you both to the celebrations. You can already feel the eyes and cameras on you, but you hold your head high, squeezing Viktor’s hand extra tight.

It’s been awhile since you’ve attended an event, but they always seem to go the same. Investors and council members come up to chat, mostly directing their questions towards Jayce. Sometimes they act as if Viktor isn’t even there, which boils your blood to the point you’ve said something on multiple occasions. Viktor has told you many times that he doesn’t mind being behind the scenes, and that Jayce is better at talking anyway, but you can never fully let it go. If people are going to gossip about him and your lives but not actually talk to him, you’ll gladly take the liberty of giving people a piece of your mind. You’d rather focus on lifting him up than dwell on your own self-consciousness, anyway.

One thing is different this time though—being that Viktor is a lot more handsy tonight than usual. He’s not normally one for public displays of affection, sticking to hand-holding and a few reassuring touches here and there. But tonight he can’t keep his hands off you.

It doesn’t matter what you’re doing, whether it be listening to the conversations, answering questions, or participating in the feast and drinks. He always has a hand on your waist or your thigh, gliding to your hips and stomach every so often. It seems mindless, as if he does this every time you’re out together, but you know he’s putting in a special effort to make you feel good.

And damn is it working.

You feel more at peace than you ever have since entering the public eye, proud of who you are and who you’re with. Who cares if people are whispering about their opinions on the Zaunite inventor? Who cares if there’s pictures of you in tomorrow’s tabloids with unflattering angles? Maybe all that matters is you’re having fun with your husband, and he’s making you feel oh so beautiful.

The night goes on for hours, attendees fizzling out until there’s only a handful left. You convince Viktor to dance with you before you leave, leaning against you and swaying simply. You wrap your arms around his neck, wiggling your fingers into his hair. He looks at you with such admiration, such devotion.

How could you ever doubt yourself under the gaze of those eyes?

“You lovebugs ready to head out?” Jayce approaches you both. “Viktor and I have a meeting with Heimerdinger in the morning.”

“Ah, yes, we do,” he briefly looks away from you. “But...perhaps we could push it until the afternoon?”

Jayce rolls his eyes and chuckles, “Yeah, yeah, I’m sure you guys are in for a long night. Have fun.”

He waves and walks away, and you burst out laughing.

“Is it really that obvious?” Viktor jokes, returning his full attention to you.

“Viktor, darling, you’ve been all over me since we got here. I’d say the entire city knows how bad you want me tonight.”

“Maybe I want them to know,” he grins, sliding a hand up your dress and squeezing your thigh.

“Viktor!” you gasp, playfully slapping his hand away.

“Alright, I suppose we can go home first,” he pivots around, moving towards the door and extending his arm to you, “Shall we?”

You nod, quickly returning to his side.

Jayce was right, it’s going to be a long, lovely night.

[leclsrc]

wait and see ✴︎ cl16

genre: enemies to lovers, fluff, angst barely, other drivers appear

word count: 2.5k

The grid recounts the evolution, nature, and many ups and downs of your and Charles' vague relationship.

auds here... req'd, this was p fun to write i hope u guys like it! :) short bec if it was any longer it wouldnt have been as nice to read i think? anyway... i love u guys. title from this.

Lando takes a seat. “Is this the thingy for…? Yeah? Okay. What am I supposed to do again?”

“Just describe the two of them.”

“Easy. She was always pissing him off.” He rubs his chin, lost in thought. “But… in a good way?”

—

“I told you a hundred times I didn’t want this to be the soundbite you published.” Charles chases after you, his footsteps quickening like a lost puppy as you wrestle your way into the media pen. “A hundred times, and you said okay, and you still published it. Che succede?”

You turn, crossing your arms over your torso. “Look. I said yes, but when I looked it over, nothing else you said was really worth it. It was all just repetitions of the same PR bullshit that makes you look good on camera.”

He rakes a hand through his hair, exhaling with frustration, watching his biting comment on Iñaki rack up hundreds of thousands of views. “This was not a good idea!” He repeats, the same sentiment he’s been telling you in the half-hour he’s known of this video’s publicity.

“But it happened.” You adjust your mic and gesture to Lando, who’s awkwardly waiting for the cameras to roll so you can start the post-FP2 interview and he can talk about his shit car. “I’m busy, so deal with it. Your fans will appreciate you not riding Ferrari’s dick all the time.”

Charles opens his mouth to argue, but shuts it, shoving his way back outside and into the motorhome so he can cooperate in damage control. He doesn’t admit it—to you, to Carlos, to anyone—but the PR that comes of it is more good than it is bad in the end. He doesn’t admit it because it means admitting you’re right, and God if that’s the last thing he’ll ever do.

—

“They were always butting heads,” George says, laughing as he soaks in the memories of it. “Always fighting over something. Anything. Whatever there was that could be disagreed on—they’d be disagreeing.”

—

It started harmlessly enough. Seb walked in with two swatches of color—a blue and a purple—and addressed the room with a light tone, asking what color would best suit the tablecloths at his wedding. And then, as it always did with you and Charles, chaos ensued.

“Blue suits green better.” You wave the blue in his face. “You’re busy thinking of red all the time so you don’t understand color theory.”

“It’s not about coordination! It’s about creating a highlight!” He gestures with his hands, aggressively gesticulating to try and get his point across. “Highlight!”

“Oh, bullshit! Blue!”

“Purple!”

“Are you crazy?!”

Across the room, Seb and George watch in mild horror at the two figures caught in a needlessly intense argument over colors at a wedding that isn’t even theirs.

An AlphaTauri engineer comes in to refill his coffee for the third time, finds the two of you still fighting and is genuinely stupefied. He turns to the two onlookers, asks, “Bridezilla, huh? Happened to me once, too. I swear the grooms always try to weasel their way in to seem more involved but their choices never make sense.”

“Oh, no. They, uh, they’re not together.” George clarifies quickly.

“They’re not?!” The engineer and Seb ask at the same time.

They all watch the argument, bemused, but secretly they all wonder just how correct George is.

—

“We have a saying in Spanish. Del amor al odio hay un paso. Neither of them will understand it—it’s in Spanish, obviously—but I think that applies to them. One minute you think they hate each other, and the next…” Carlos lets himself taper into silence, smiling softly.

—

Being around Charles feels like karmic retribution, a constant eternal push and pull. But it makes the both of you better, even if neither of you admit it in the end. You can’t really grasp why, or how it started—it might take ages if you do so much as try—but you’re content with letting things happen the way they do.

Or maybe you’re not. “You ruined my fucking broadcast, dickhead!”

You toss your earpiece at his chest, body welling up with annoyance. Your segment was being casted live until Charles insisted he take up your airtime to do whatever-the-fuck, you honestly don’t care. And yeah, sure, he’s way more relevant, but the less airtime you get, the less easily you get the exposure you need.

“It happened one time.” He sounds amused, and it patronizes you, sets you on fire. He clutches your earpiece to his chest and hands it back to you.

“Fuck you.” You tug it toward yourself, and suddenly you’re closer, noses almost touching. You step back, but it’s not enough. “You have no idea how much that mattered to me.”

His eyes flit toward your lips, your bodies melting together. “If it really did…” he says, inhaling, “you would’ve just ignored me.” And damn, he’s right.

Charles does not like you. He just knows you well. But then one might argue—isn’t that the same thing?

—

“They have trouble not calling the shots, is the thing,” Lewis offers. “So put them in a team, in a room together, and boom.”

—

“…We didn’t agree on this script.” You underline the problematic lines and toss it onto Charles’ lap from where you stand in front of the sofa. “You want your fans to hate you?”

“The questions were clumsy. I asked you to reword them, but you didn’t.”

“You didn’t ask, to be clear. You demanded.” You click your tongue.

Lewis is in the middle of posting on Roscoe’s Instagram account and manually making typos, but he looks up, interest piqued by the increasingly heated conversation.

“I asked,” Charles insists stubbornly. “Plus, this is a Ferrari segment. You get hired to write on Ferrari, you follow Ferrari.” He points to the yellow logo on his shirt. Ferrari, he mouths. Lewis stifles a chuckle at the sarcastic exchange.

“Jesus.” You reread the script. “Fine. I’ll reword this and this.”

“And that.” He points, tapping the paper.

“Only if you edit this and this. Oh, God, and this.”

“Fine. Wait, that?”

“Are you serious? It’s the corniest statement ever. Edit that or I edit nothing.”

“Okay, bossy.”

Lewis exits Instagram in favor of texting Seb to ask if you two are dating. The response he receives is equally unhelpful: Nobody knows mate.

—

“You know, for all the disagreeing they did, they actually agreed on so much of the same stuff. If they stopped fighting for two seconds they would agree on most things.” Alex muses. “But they never did, so. Or maybe a few times.”

—

Media is a tricky thing. It’s either on your side, or it isn’t.

And this weekend, Charles has drawn the short straw, subjected to bouts of backhanded journalists and tweets for his strategy during quali. You know this especially well—you’re media, for Christ’s sake—and you’ve seen your colleagues hound Charles for how he chose to tackle the session.

Alex is in the middle of a FaceTime call with Lily when he hears it. “Wait—I think they’re talking,” he says to his girlfriend when he hears you approach him, carefully maneuvering himself into optimal eavesdropping position.

“Is this the right thing to do?” Lily’s voice comes through like static.

“I know it’s wrong,” Alex confesses. “But—”

“No, I meant I can’t hear properly. Move the phone closer, you dick.”

So he does, and the two of them listen intently to your talk. You go first, a few shuffling footsteps and an adjustment of your media pass, then. “Will’s been all over you today.”

“Yeah,” comes Charles’ voice, tired if anything. “I, uh… I just hope I can understand where I went wrong and, uh. Well, uh.”

“No, I…” There’s heavy silence. “I think you did the right thing. You didn’t get pole, but it was a good strategy. Better than what was being proposed, anyway. I think that would’ve landed you at the back of the grid, to be honest.”

You both laugh. “Thanks,” he croaks.

“You did great. Don’t, um… don’t let them tell you otherwise. I’m proud of you.”

Alex never tells anybody what he heard. But it inspires many long-winded conversations with Lily about the nature of your relationship. Each time, though, they never arrive to a solid answer.

—

“Hey, listen. I always knew something was there with those two. They had the kind of dynamic you only find once in, like, a million instances.” Daniel says firmly. “But I also kept thinking… poor Charlotte.”

—

You’re half-sure Pierre was the one who bought you all shots. Or a quarter-sure. Okay, you’re not sure at all. Your mind’s cloudy, your inhibitions lowered, tongue loose and laugh contagious. Around the table everyone is laughing, some others have gotten up to dance, but you, Daniel, Lewis, and Charles are all conversing about work, albeit while drunk.

“Is… tequila… plant-based?” Lewis grimaces as he throws another shot back and you all laugh mindlessly.

“Danny,” you say, tapping his shoulder. “Any plans once you’re out of the paddock next season?”

“Ah,” he hums. “Self-discovery and a shit ton of shrooms.”

You all cheers to the epiphany, shots once again entering your system. “And a party again tomorrow!” Daniel adds half-jokingly, much to your delight. Charles, right beside you, throws an arm over your shoulder as he laughs. You’re unfazed.

Daniel’s gaze lingers on his arm a little too long, especially because your own hand reaches upward to wrap around his wrist, to make sure he doesn’t pull away. But you’re both drunk, he reasons. And plus, you can’t usually stand each other’s guts.

“I’ll pass, mate, if it happens,” Charles says, his tone clearly inebriated.

“You’re no fun,” you say lightly, laughing and turning to him. Your eyes are on the other’s, dark, lips almost touching as if you’ve forgotten Daniel and Lewis are even around (though the latter is as good as dead, honestly.)

“Invite Charlotte instead,” Daniel says with a smile, to try and test your reactions. “How long, now? Three months?”

You clear your throat, looking away with a faux smile.

“Oh. We’re not doing so well, to be honest.” Charles smiles, tight-lipped. He hopes Daniel doesn’t ask why. He can’t think of a lie quickly enough to cover how Charlotte told him I love you, Charles, but this is over. I hope you end up with her someday.

—

Seb takes some time to think about it. “Those two always fought. Everyone said that, didn’t they? All the time, disagreeing.” He hums. “I could tell very early, though, that they were also the only two who could truly understand the other. Figuratively, obviously—but as a result, also literally.”

“Elaborate?”

“When you understand someone that well, inside and out, you end up understanding everything they say.” Seb smiles. “That was them, I think.”

—

“It’s impossible to transcribe your interviews,” Will says to Charles. It’s that hour on the paddock where everyone’s waiting for the pre-race bustle to start, so small talk is what’s keeping them busy.

You’re reviewing a few clips from practice on your phone and Seb is chipping into the conversation, which has moved from Mick’s future to F1 into Sky Sports into this.

“What do you mean?” Charles asks.

“You’re always sliding in and out of your three languages!” The Englishman laughs. “I have to consult a native speaker of both Italian and French each time. And you’re always going I, I, I, or we, we, we… but hey, the fans dig it, innit?”

“I think I sound perfectly understandable.” Charles smiles. You’re still busy, unfocused on the conversation at present.

“Like, okay. Look at this.” Will retrieves his phone, opens his voice memos app, and plays one of the audio recordings there. It’s a scratchy one of Charles describing his quali session, and sure enough, even if he’s speaking straight English, the adrenaline and exhaustion have him sounding totally indecipherable.

We—we had gasjdhfhs and I, I, I… I think we need to rejshdhs and thijsjsh about the hsfhdh, yeah? And, and, uh, we ajhshajs. And

Will closes it. “Sebastian, can you tell me that said?”

He shrugs, amused. “Sorry, Charles. I genuinely can’t.”

“See?!” Will makes a voila motion. “Nobody understands this.”

“He said we had good traction and I think we need to recalibrate and think about the boxing strategy, yeah? And we need that mindset.” You’re still going over your phone, busy and not 100% invested. “You two just aren’t listening.”

Charles doesn’t take his eyes off you, or the smile off his face, the whole hour.

—

Pierre comes last, clearing his throat. He’s ready. He knows exactly what to say, so he says it. “Those two are fucking soulmates.”

—

It’s three-thirty when somebody knocks on your hotel room.

But your body still feels like it’s five in the evening, your brain’s stuck at two in the afternoon, and your sleep schedule thinks it’s nine in the morning, so you’re not asleep but instead rewriting notes from the weekend prior.

You’re horribly disoriented when you grab your pepper spray and unlatch the door, and even more disoriented when you see Charles on the other side of it.

“Am I crazy?” He asks, breathless, like he’s been waiting for you all his life. Maybe he has.

“You’re at my hotel room at three a.m., so… a bit.” You rub sleepiness and jetlag out of your eyes. “Charles, what’s going on?”

“I love you.” There it is. “It sounds so stupid. But I love you. And it’s almost—I can’t bear it. I woke up this morning? You, on my mind. Lights go off after a race? You. I go to sleep? You. It’s always you. And I know, I know it’s—I know, with Charlotte, and—but it’s true. I, I, I—I think about you every minute. And usually this happens accidentally. Nous sommes tous des idiots quand il s’agit d’amour... moi y compris.

“But this was… I knew I was falling in love and I let it happen. And so I thought, why keep waiting? Why let it drag on and on and fight over and over when I can just come and tell you how much I—and maybe, hopefully, see if you feel the same?”

He pants, tired from his clearly rambled and unplanned confession.

“I love you, too,” you say, struck. Oh God.

“Can I kiss you, then?”

“It’s may,” you breathe. “May I kiss you.”

“You may,” he whispers.

“Right now?”

“Anytime.”

“So now.”

“It’s now or next Tuesday,” he jokes.

“Now is… the best. Now would do.”

“Now would do.” So you cross the threshold and let him scoop you into his arms so he can well and truly kiss you.

—

“Is that all?” The interviewer asks Pierre. “Just… those words? We need a bit more for the article on this event.”

“Oh, yeah.” He gets up, straightens his tie. “Don’t worry. You’ll hear the rest during my best man speech.”

Del amor al odio hay un paso – From love to hate, there is one step.

Nous sommes tous des idiots quand il s'agit d'amour... moi y compris – We are all fools in love... me included.

[harrystylesfan2686]

Alone

Pairing: no one really.

Summary: Reader starts to feel left out in her own family...

Warnings: Neglection. Suicide thoughts. Self harm (in detail) please go back if any of these bother you. Your mental heath matters more.

A/N: I think I need therapy too...

Masterlist Part 2(Azriel) Part 2(Eris)

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Ever wondered what it's like to be alone?

It's a game, really. A game of utter self degradation. A game where there are only two players, you and your mind. A game where you never truly win and you always have to keep playing because your brain never tires.

A game which no one else realizes your playing until you lose and it's too late.

It's the game you have been playing ever since the Archerons joined the inner circle. You love them all, honestly. Thier different personalities was the first thing that drew you to them. You admir all three of them but the one thing you hate is how you got left alone after their involvement to your life.

Before them, you all relied on all of you for company and support. Now, everybody has their own person.

Rhysand has Feyre, Cassian has Nesta, Azriel has Elain, and Mor and Amren have found thier partners too but in case they aren't present, Mor and Amren, as crazy as it sounds, rely on each other. Just like that, everybody has a person to go home to, to come back safely for, to turn to for comfort.

You don't have anyone.

You hate going home because your bed is always empty. You hate going on missions because you know no one would be worrying about you every minute you gone. You hate celebrations because you have no one to dance with, to drink with, to end the day with.

You love family dinners. Even though you never get a chance to speak, even though you never talk to anyone, even though no one notices your presence. You love family dinners and meetings because it's the only time youre not alone.

It's doesn't matter if you're lonely, at least you aren't alone.

But in the game you're playing with yourself, after a while, you get too tired to challenge back with same force. You don't push back the mean thoughts your mind throws at you as insults. You listen to them, compare them to your situation and realise, you've been trying to win for nothing.

You slowly stop trying to protect yourself all together.

The first time you didn't go to a family dinner, you thought you would regret it later but you didn't, instead you felt glad that you didn't go because no one had come to get you, no one came to ask why you didn't show, no one cared about you enough to think why you didn't go.

So you stopped going at all.

You stopped doing everything with you 'family' and prefered being left alone.

You only met them when you had a mission together or anything related to work.

Just like that, today you had gone to one of the Illyrian camps at Rhys orders. He got report saying things haven't been going as they should there and wanted you to go check. But on your way back you had been ambushed by a group of six men wanting to kill you in the camp, they couldn't of course but you did come out of the fight with a large sward wound on your left side.

All you wanted to do was go home, rest, tend to your wound and sleep. You can give the report to Rhys tomorrow.

You let out a grunt and step in your house, immediately tense seeing a shadow of a person move the dark room. Your hand placing itself in your dagger straped to your thigh, you other hand on the left side of your waist pressing on your wound.

"Relax, it's just me." A familiar voice fills the silence as the fae lights turn on and Rhysands face becomes visible. You sigh in relief and furrow your eyebrows,"What you doing so late in my house?" You nearly snap, but hold back as respect for your high lord.

"You came late you were suppose to be here two hours ago." For minute it feels like he cares for you, and you allow yourself to believe that he was worried for you but you fantasy shatters the second he opens his mouth again. "You were supposed to deliver your report two hours ago. You know how important this is, I have other things to do too." His voice sharp as he scolds you.

"You're right, I'm sorry. I got attacked while leaving, it took time to fight them of. It was six against one but well I managed to survive, eh?" Rhysand's scowl deepens. "Tell me what happened there now."

Your eyes closs for a second whem you feel dizzy. "Look, how about you give me ten minutes to freshen up, and I also have a wound to–," You try to say but he cuts you off saying,"I don't have more time. Tell me right now what happened so I can get started on fixing things, then you can have all the time to fresh up as you want. My office, now." He doesn't leave much to room to argue and winnows you to his office.

You sigh and start speaking, repeating everything you noticed in the camp as Rhysand listens and writes down the report. Near the end, you feel another wave of dizziness hit you and put your head down to rest it against the backrest of your chair and groan when you feel pain shoot up from your injury from the movement.

Rhysand finally notices the source of your pain and his eyes flare,"You're hurt?" You scoff. "Yes. That's what I was trying to tell you before you winnowed us here."

"I didnt notice it. I'm sorry, you should go tend to it." He quickly dismisses you, finally letting you go back to your house.

As you look at yourself in the mirror, thinking how filthy and hideous you seem, you grit your teeth. Of course no one notices you. Look at you. You are ugly and filled with dirt and scars all over your body.

How could anyone look at you when you can't even look at yourself.

Your gaze falls to your wound, the big cut that spread from under you left breast to the start of your thigh. If was deep enough to bleed you dry.

Would anyone even notice if you did? If you don't heal and let the injury bleed you dead. Would anyone know that you were gone? That your body layed unmoving in the bathroom floor. How long would it take for someone to find you? Who would find you? Probably Rhysand when he needs you for his next mission.

You eye your dagger that you unshielded on your way in the bathroom. How long would it take for you to bleed out? Hours? Days? You didn't want that. That was too much. You don't think you can handle that much pain constantly. Maybe if you took that dagger and deepen your cut, you would bleed out faster. Maybe you would have a faster death. Sure it would hurt but at least you would be gone before someone found you.

You would be free. Free of the loneliness. Free of the feeling like you were a burden in everyone's life. Free of wanting Someone to care for you the way you see everyone else care for their loved ones. You would finally be at peace.

You gasp and blink out the terrible thoughts. Breathing heavy, you search for the cotton and Healing cream in the cupboards. You groan out with you don't find any of them.

You turn back to the mirror. Maybe your brain is right. Maybe this is a sign from Mother herself telling you to not let the wound heal and die right here, right now. Your gaze finds the knife again, eyeing the sharp edge. Would it really be that bad?

Your hand grips the handle of the dagger, bringing it closer to the cut. You let the cold mettle edge scrap the skin, an inch afar the start of the cut. The sharp edge slicing through skin like paper, leaving a line of crimson red blood, seeping out of the newly cut skin.

Your eyes widen as you observe yourself, keeping the knife near the cut but not touching it entirely.

It's... mesmerizing. The way blood slowly comes out of the skin, the small and steady lines created by your dagger are engrossing. And the pain, the pain is hypnotizing, slowing raising to the rest of your body. Your body feels electrified, there's snips of pain tingling through out your entire body, your ears buzzing with excitement. Your hands are shaking and eyes bluring but all you can focus on is how much you want to do this again. Feel your skin open beneath you knife again. Feel the pain that slowing raises with each extra inch of cut.

Oh gods. What have you done?

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[callsign-datura]

mhm just read your fuckboy!ghost and what if reader decided enough is enough, like she’s tired of the fwb and wants a real thing but ghost are too afraid of commitment alright? ok but what if she ended the thing by ghosting him and he regretted for not making the reader, his girlfriend iskdkdjeksn idk im in a mood angst LMAO

"Ghost, come on, we've been at this for months." You plead, your hands clasped together as you stare up at him from your position beside him. Your eyebrows knit together as you see a glimmer of emotion flicker in his eyes. A low sigh leaves his chest and his response is low. "I can't, doll. Every time we've talked about this, I told you. I. Can't." He says, turning his head towards you and looking down at you.

God, you were so... cute. Cute, in a pathetic way. With rosy cheeks, glassy eyes, and quivering lips. He almost wanted to kiss you. He knew that was what you wanted, it was what he wanted too.

"Well, I can't with the fact you're somehow perfectly okay with not having a relationship. Fucking three times in one week, then you ghost me for two. It's getting really fucking tiring, Simon." Your voice is exceptionally sharp, and you're getting stern. He hasn't heard this from you before and it's odd to see you respond so strongly. Normally you're so passive, and... he would be lying if he didn't find it hot. But a familiar twinge of fear made his stomach flip, and he started feeling uneasy. His eyebrows knit together as he looked down at you, brown eyes swirling with a mix of fear, desire, and hurt.

As he stared at you, disappointment made your heart drop and your shoulders sag. "Whatever, Ghost. I'm sick of just sitting by and letting you walk all over me as if I'm just some toy to you."

"Doll, you know that's not true," he grunted, panic rising in his throat. Normally he wouldn't get so emotional or defensive, but hearing you talk like that made him scared. What if he lost you? "I lo- I care about you. This isn't some... one-time thing, and I thought that would've been obvious by now."

"But why don't you want to start a relationship with me? That's all I want and you know that it's all I want." "I-I can't... I just can't." His voice trembled for a moment, but then he realized you were going to continue pushing him on this. "I can't." "Why can't you?" Your voice rose slightly, the anger in your tone unmistakeable as you used your hands to gesture; a small effort to expel some of the adrenaline building in your body from finally confronting him on this. "I just can't, okay? Drop it. Please, let's just--" "No. I can't go back to the way it was." Your voice lowered slightly as you looked up at him, tears building in your eyes and your voice trembling slightly. Your chest tightened. "I love you, Ghost, and I want to hear you say it back. If you can't... we're over. I'm done." Silence hung in the air between him and you. The panic was rushing in his body, and for a moment you saw genuine fear in his eyes. The words weren't coming. His brain ran over all the things that would happen if he finally admitted it. Would you see him as weak? Would he ruin this relationship just like he's ruined his other relationships? Is there any way out of this that doesn't involve revealing how weak and pathetic he is? "Doll, I--"

"Say it. Say it, or..." you paused to take a breath, your lips parting and your chest rising as you gathered the courage. "I'm leaving. I can't deal with this anymore... I can't see you every other night, get reminded of how much I love you, and then you're gone the next day." Your voice broke, and he was reminded of how much of a shitty person he was. "I can't... lay awake, wondering if you love me back. I can't deal with you not opening up to me."

His heart broke when he saw that tear roll down your cheek. He hated seeing you cry, he hated seeing you hurt. He wanted nothing more than to embrace you and comfort you. He doesn't know what he'd do if he did. He just doesn't want you to leave, but ironically that's the same thing that's pushing you away. The silence continues, and your expression morphs as the seconds pass. "Fucking hell, Ghost, I--" You grunt, cutting yourself off before you twirl on your heel. He blinks, and you're gone.

He stares at the doorway you've gone through, and his heart breaks again as he watches your form disappear around the corner. Tears stung his eyes and he brought his hands to his face, the balaclava feeling suddenly claustrophobic as it clung to his face. He stood there for what felt like hours, his heart in his stomach and the fabric of his balaclava damp with a mix of sweat and tears. He takes a shaky step towards the door, and he shuts it. His breath is shaky and he can't stop himself from tearing up once again, tears falling and smearing his eyeblack as he moves and sits down at the edge of his bed. The mattress creaks under the addition of his weight. "Christ, I'm such..." He couldn't find the words. You were gone. Gone and he was alone. He lost the one thing he thought he'd cherish forever. Just because he couldn't admit that he loved you. His hands shakily find his phone, and he draws it from his pocket, turns it on, and flips to the contacts screen. He finds yours, and he taps on it, opening your message history; filled with sentences from you, checking on him, asking him if he needs anything... and his replies, just one word. He lets out another shaky breath and he wipes away the moisture from his eyes with the back of his hand, moving to write a message. "Please. I'm so sorry. I love you. Can we talk about this? I'm sorry." He taps send. It doesn't go through. His gaze focuses on the message, and he realizes what he's lost. He's an idiot. You're gone. Why couldn't he have just said the words you wanted to hear? His fear doesn't mean anything compared to the pain he feels knowing he's just lost the most beautiful thing in his life. He's lost you. His flower, his darling, his sweetheart, the one he dreamt about pouring his heart out to, the one he dreamt about going on dates with, the one person he thought he might actually let love him. You're gone and he feels emptier than ever. You're gone because he was too stupid to make it clear that he loved you. And now, he'll never get a chance to show you that he loves you.

[straystarr]

From the Start; lmh

in which you end up getting partnered with the bad boy but it turns into something meaningful. (Somewhat strangers, to friends)

a little soft, a little boring, but comforting (at least I hope)

Blank minds were accompanied by bored expressions and still your professor ignored the dull atmosphere as her words drowned before reaching your ears. Philosophy of sex and love — while immersive in its contents and literature, it was oddly scheduled in the evening of the day. Naturally, you were drained, ready to crawl into bed and sleep the day away. Showing no interest was not your intention, in contrast, this had to be your favourite class of your crammed university schedule. Your days were filled with due dates after due dates. Exam after exam. One long lecture to another. Life was repetitive at the moment. And one can only enjoy the repetition  for so long.

You couldn’t help but allow your pen to draw minimal doodles onto the loose leaf sitting in front of you, anything to keep you sane. It was obvious you weren’t the only numb soul as the room seemed to be suffocating due to cumulative body heat and exaggerated exhaustion.

You were pulled away from your pointless observations, the door to the class swinging open, disrupting the scattered peace in the room as heads lifted at the sudden noise. Your eyes caught a glimpse of his dark clothed figure before you swiftly turned your head back towards your notebook, already anticipating the reactions around you. 

If it were any other late student, every person in the room would have nonchalantly returned to their business, carefree of the lives outside of their own. Instead, waves of whispers brewed as he confidently made his way towards his designated seat, which happened to be right beside your own.

He gave no attention to the soft chaos his presence ignited, but his plain eyes glared at anyone who daringly gazed for more than expected.

Something about Lee Minho always had people on the edge of their seats. Whether it be the countless rumours surrounding his reputation or the way he detached himself from any social setting. 

You never understood it really, the way people obsessed over him. He was popular, for all the wrong reasons. It was either romanticising his ‘cold’ personality or scowling at his existence. How he became known as the bad boy will always remain ridiculous to you. 

Some claim he spends his nights at clubs, some say his personality speaks for itself, others believe only people involved in illicit activity would stain their skin so “excessively”, thrown off by the tattoos visible when his arms were out in the open. Stereotype after stereotype was all it was. You found most of these reasons to be baseless, filled with the flaws of people's own beliefs and values. 

Sure, he wasn’t the friendliest person, but that doesn’t justify the shit he received on a daily basis. Even if what people said was true, what did it have to do with them? He was just living his life. And still, people managed to bury him six feet under. 

He never seemed bothered by the distaste he received, rather amused, a smirk flourishing on his lips with every new story created in his name. Even when all eyes were on him or when assumptions about his life were brought about in conversations, he always stuck to himself, never talking to anyone, a facade of oblivion hanging above his head. 

The only people you’ve ever seen welcomed into his own little world were his group of friends, specifically, Han Jisung and Bang Chan. But even then, he remained conserved, only giving small reactions in contrast to their big personalities. You always wondered how they got along. Jisung was known to be a social butterfly on campus, always waving, always laughing, a person one can’t help but be drawn to. One time, he mistook you for someone else and gave you a back hug, spending the next five minutes on his knees profusely apologizing for touching you. Chan was more laid back, but he enjoyed the company of other people. He always lightened the mood with his cheerful and calm persona.

Their relationship took the concept ‘opposites attract’ and played it into reality. It was comforting knowing such a friendship existed in a complex world. 

“Can I borrow a pen?” The request came from your right, somewhat hidden in your professor's speech about Vrangalova’s association of love and commitment to sex. You met eyes with him, face stoic and reserved, expectant of your generosity. It wasn’t the first time he had asked you for a pen, and it wouldn’t be the last time you held one towards him. “Thanks.” He muttered, eyes already gone from your sight. You smiled in response, even if he couldn’t see it. It was moments like this that solidified your liking towards him. 

In a way, you cared for Minho, watching from the sidelines, stealing little glances whenever he was in the room or catching yourself frowning every time his name was carelessly thrown around. It’s not that you had a crush on him, or that you pitied him, but it’s the same way you get concerned when you see a friend stumble. You flinch as you imagine their potential pain. You hope they're ok. And then you move on with your life. It is possible, and it does happen — caring for someone you know nothing about. The same way you can hate someone you know nothing about. 

You sucked in your bottom lip as your pen tapped a rhythm onto the table. His body became clearer in your peripheral, bringing the rhythm to a pause. His thigh slightly brushed against yours, sinking into the chair with his body shifting into a comfortable position. And like clockwork, the wave of gossip diminished as time passed by, and your eyes only continued to fall, forcing you to use all your energy to keep them open. 

“I’ll be ending the lecture early. But I am assigning a group paper since it seems as though you all would not be able to complete one on your own, judging from the lack of enthusiasm. To make things simple, your partner will be whoever is sitting to your right. All you need to do is research……” Her voice echoed into the air as you hesitantly moved your head to the right. Your eyebrows trailed up in surprise due to the set of eyes already directed at you. 

Minho raised his hand to his cheek, resting against his fingers as he cocked his head to the side. “Y/n, right?” An unconscious smile bloomed upon hearing your name, to which he straightened his posture. Your smile threw him off. He could always guess a person's intentions by their smile. It’s either genuine, or it’s not.  And he almost always received the latter. But with you, that wasn’t the case. He found himself fascinated at how quickly the smile came and left. It was an authentic reaction.  

It was new to him. And he simply didn’t know how to react.

“You know my name?” 

“I’ve been stealing your pens for a whole semester. How can I not?”

He was talking more than he was used to. What should have been a yes or no answer turned into an invitation to continue the conversation. And he again, didn’t know why. The side of your lips dropped at the sudden coldness glazing over his face but you thought nothing of it as you nodded and began to pack your things. “We should start the project tomorrow, are you available?” Standing, you twisted your head to look at him once again to which he just nodded before pushing himself off from his seat. 

Your fingers curled under your notebook, instinctively tightening your hold to no avail as he seized it from your hands. A sound of confusion choked from the back of your throat, prompting the questioning look you sent him as he began to write something down. Bringing his head up, he processed your stare, an unexpected wave of caution flooding his system as he placed the notebook back in your hands.

“My address.” The awkwardness he displayed was fresh compared to the certainty he previously held in his actions. “Unless you’d like to work on campus, I just assumed you wouldn’t since everyone is camping out here with the semester coming to an end—” Your shoulders vibrated from the amused giggle in your throat.

He was rambling, and you quite enjoyed it.

His nostrils flared upon hearing your stifled tune. It was odd, he found himself trying his best to ignore the urge to smile along with you. It was barely a success as he patiently waited for you to speak, a hand coming to rub his warm ear. “Maybe we can head to your place together after class tomorrow?” You advised, bag already over your shoulder and coat hanging from your arm, you were eager to leave. But the quick interaction with the stranger who always had your attention lined your thoughts amidst the fatigue. “Yeah— yeah, that works.” He said with a curt nod. Twisting in place, your hand flew in the air, fingers waving ever so slightly.  “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

His lips fell apart, watching as you marched your way out of the room. He couldn’t read your mind, but he so badly wanted to. Because the many questions swarming in his head just about drove him crazy. You were weird. At least in the sense that he didn’t mind your presence. He didn’t mind how easy going you were or how you made him conscious of himself. He didn’t mind that you laughed at him or how he so easily talked to you. You intrigued him. You had ever since you were paired to sit together. And it scared him. He always wanted to talk to you — really talk to you, none of this pen borrowing bullshit he settled for even when his pencil case lay untouched in his bag. 

And now that he has, your voice echoed in his head like a soft melody, to which he paused the tune, frightened to dance along to the beat. 

“Are you feeling any better?” 

“I think so.” He managed to moan out. 

You turned your head away from the screen of your computer, waist twisting in place as you caught ahold of his weary eyes, soon widening at the sudden eye contact. It was a few hours after class had ended. You weren’t really keeping track. But you were constantly checking up on the boy who lay on the couch you leaned on.

“You sound like shit. And you still look like shit.” Your observation fell on deaf ears, your eyes blurred against the rays of the white screen staring back at you. “I’m fine.” He sniffled, buried in the blankets you had wrapped around him with care.

And to think a few hours ago, you were frustrated with him, having travelled from University to an unknown area with the only hope that the address messily written in your notebook would lead you to Minho. The frustration grew with each second you loitered in the apartment's hallway. You didn’t want to assume anything when Minho never showed up for class. So you took it upon yourself to find out what was going on.

And there you stood, a deep sigh collapsing along with your eyes as your knuckles came in contact with the door one last time. Pulling your hand away, you clicked your tongue against the top of your mouth, analyzing the options you had left. God seemed to take pity on you as the door swung open, sending you staggering backwards, hand over your chest with your eyes now wide open. 

Although his face was barely visible with the hood that covered his head, his feline eyes peeked through the fringes of his hair naturally covering his forehead. The scowl on Minho's face melted upon recognizing your startled figure. Tucking his hands into the pockets of his grey sweatpants, his body fell onto the doorframe. He was very much surprised with your visit, but his blank stare intimidated you into thinking your efforts may have gone to waste. 

Guilt crawled into his skin, unsure whether to explain himself or let you assume what you wanted. He would usually give less than a fuck, but with you — with you, he didn’t know what to do. A sigh of relief was given as you felt somewhat reassured by Minho’s presence. 

Readjusting the bag hanging over your shoulder, you paused as you felt the reassurance being replaced with confusion. You were ready to bombard him with the questions clouding your mind. Why wasn’t he at school? Did he expect you to finish everything yourself? Did he really not give a shit? Did he not like you? 

But the wandering questions were easily dismissed upon noticing the way Minho couldn’t seem to hold himself up, continuously leaning against the door frame. It wasn’t until frail sniffles came from the boy in front of you, his head tossed to the side as if to silence himself. It was then you noticed how his cheeks were painted in a harsh shade of pink, the way he tried to softly clear his throat, the shadows under his eyes. 

“I couldn’t go to school today and I didn’t know how to contact you—”

“You look like shit.”

The statement shot through his already weak state, but he wasn’t offended. Instead, a loose chuckle caressed his tongue as you smiled in return. You began to rock on your feet, unaware of what to do or say. Minho observed your actions, carefully stepping aside as his hand pointed towards the inside of his home. He didn’t approve of what he was doing, but he didn’t necessarily oppose it either. He was just as lost as you were.

Your body failed to move, eyes blinking while you began to comprehend his gestures. “What? You didn’t come here just to check up on me.” Dropping his hand to the side of his body, Minho raised an eyebrow, eyes glazing over the words that barely made their way out of your mouth.  “I think you should use this time to try to get better, I’ll just finish the project—“ “I can’t let you complete it by yourself.”

Your eyes fixated on the back of his head as he trudged into his home, leaving you to gawk at his figure, hesitation confronting you as you consciously entered through the door frame that separated you from the outside world. Minho watched as you observed the surroundings. It was nothing like you’d imagine, but also seemed to fit him very well.

The living room consisted of a brown leather couch and a circular glass table. Nothing seemed out of place, every decoration he had with a purpose. “Why hello there.” You crouched down, hands fluffing the cat that arrived at your feet. You directed your gaze to Minho. “I didn’t take you for a cat dad.” Minho picked up the cat at your feet before placing him on a cat tree tucked away in the corner of the room that you failed to notice. “I have three.” He managed to say. 

Nodding in awe, you set your bag down onto the wooden floor in front of the table, your body sinking as your jeans hit the cold ground. Burrowing his eyebrows, Minho gazed at you with curious eyes. “You can sit on the couch?” You lifted your head as you set your laptop on the table, a smile growing on your face while your hands strung your hair into a loose bun.  “I prefer the floor.” Your causality ignited a comfortable atmosphere to which he found himself drawn to. His feet carried him towards the couch behind you as he slumped onto it, his sick body hindering him from acting any further. The simple fact that you spit out about yourself traced through his mind, unknowingly settling in the depths of his memory. 

“You can rest for now, I’ll let you know when I need your help.” Your focus was directed towards the screen of your laptop, completely oblivious to the boy whose lips were ever so slightly curved into a smirk. “That’s not how it’s supposed to work.” A string of coughs followed his response, much to his dismay. “Yeah well, we have underlying circumstances so just listen and I don’t know, heal?” There it was again. That light tune that so easily infiltrated his thoughts. The sarcasm laced in your voice only humoured the smirk on his face, somehow guiding it to curve into a light smile as he continued to stare at the back of your head. 

How odd it was for him — for him to do as he pleased, not having to shelter himself into the colourless character he lived. How odd it was for him to lie there on a random Friday, a mere stranger on his living room floor as he tried to get some sleep. Well, at least he knew your name. He liked your name. And he was so at ease with the person linked to the name. “Why did you want to work here?” Your question halted his thoughts. “I don’t like public places.” He said with eyes closed. You absently nodded, fingers typing away. “Why don’t you like public places?” He remained quiet for longer than anticipated. “I don’t really like people.”

Silence corrupted the air, bringing your chest to slowly rise in contrast to its previous pattern. 

Your eyes soon landed on his face, as your head twisted in place, focus no longer directed towards the gleaming screen of your computer. It occurred to you that the line of questioning was heavy, too heavy and you were in no position to ask him such heavy questions. Especially with his weak state. Minho opened his eyes, his gaze trailed on the ceiling, avoiding your hard stare as the two of you shared the understanding that explanation was to follow. Although you were aware of the reason.

“I'm sorry.”

The apology was louder than a whisper but not quite full in tone. You inhaled, slowly turning back around as the hot air left your nose. The tapping of your fingers began again, spelling out a sentence that lacked your attention. “Why do you prefer the floor?” Your fingers hovered over the keyboard, nonchalantly resuming as your shoulders moved up and down in oblivion. “I’m not sure. I just find it more comfortable.” He hummed in acknowledgement, making an effort to rise from his place but immediately groaning while trying. 

“Now what happened in the span of a day that you went from being all healthy to barely being able to move?” You asked, still typing away on your computer. Minho sighed, embarrassed and hesitant to explain the ridiculous events that occurred the previous night. But with the way your expectant eyes gleamed in the dark room, his lips betrayed him. “Jisung made me dance in the rain last night because you apparently only live once.” His voice was barely a whisper towards the end but that only solidified the giggle shaking your body. Minho smiled, conscious of the highs and lows of your laugh and somehow harmonizing with the one coming from his sore throat.

You listened to Minho’s laugh, fully aware that this was the first time you had heard it. It was pretty and contagious. And you couldn’t help but think about how nice it would be to hear it more often. “So you’re telling me, you’ve lived every girl's dream.” Your cheeks were full with pressure from the grin on your face. Minho’s smile melted into a smirk. “Jealous much?” You nodded before standing up. “Very much so.” 

Minho found himself searching for you as you made your way out of his sight. But soon enough, you returned, a bowl in one hand while you kneeled beside him. You hesitated before laying your hand flat against his forehead, falling to his cheek. “I think you have a fever.” Minho weakly hummed, unsure what to say. So he continued to watch you dip a towel into the bowl, lifting his bangs up before placing it on his forehead. The cool material felt nice against his hot body, prompting him to close his eyes.

He felt vulnerable. He was vulnerable. Never would he allow someone so physically close to him unless it was his friends. But here you were, hand to his cheek with no ounce of refusal in his gut. You were as close as anyone could get with him, and it only took you a few hours to do so. Perhaps that’s why he continued to speak, susceptible to you in ways he couldn’t quite understand. “People let you down.” His voice was frail, but you caught his words. “It's like they’ve pieced my life together without even asking me about the details.” He didn’t need to ask whether you understood what he was referring to, because with the way your face slightly fell, he knew you weren’t immune to the rumours. 

“People suck.” You left the towel on his forehead, turning away as you settled back down in front of your computer. “We make assumptions in order to help us understand the world. Even if our assumptions are ill-mannered. What makes sense to us, protects us.” You paused, now looking at him. “I’m sorry you’re experiencing the consequences of other people’s actions.” You spoke quietly, your bottom lip slightly pushed forward.

Minho said nothing, offered no expression of regard. Instead, he cleared his throat, letting his eyes fall shut. You bit your bottom lip, unsure how to interpret his nonchalance and choosing to continue whatever you were typing. “I’d like for you to hear about them.” Your fingers lay still against your keyboard. “The details.” The breath you were holding blew past your lips, subtly. “Well, you can tell me all about them while I finish up this paper of ours.” You stated, a smile threatening to break out on your face, a low murmur of acknowledgement coming from behind you. 

“How many pages have you done?” 

“Two.” 

“How many do we need done?”

 “Twelve.” 

Minho’s eyes shot open. “I— what have you been typing this whole time, I thought you had this shit locked and loaded.” You swiftly faced him, arms crossed over your chest. “I’m sorry for being invested in our conversation.” Your tone was entirely satire and he could only groan in disbelief. You both stared at each other, your face relaxing while his lit up, smiles breaking out as laughter filled the air.

“Should we ask for an extension?” Miho forced himself up, now sitting against the couch. “I emailed her the minute I opened my computer.” You shrugged, reaching for the towel that was now lopsided on his forehead. Minho could only stare at you with wide eyes. “Why’d you stay?” You tilted your head in confusion, as if it were obvious why you had been here for the past hour or so. “I wasn't going to leave you here to rot.” His lips parted slightly. 

He had your voice paused in his mind, replaying it to familiarize himself with your tone. He liked you. This he knew. And was more than willing to accept. It was new for him to welcome someone so eagerly into his small world, but with the way you dipped the towel into the bowl of water and casually placed it back onto his forehead, he knew a new friend would do no harm and probably more good than he deserved. His soul welcomed your presence. Something he’d never come to regret.

“I’ll invite you next time.” “Next time?” You continued to pat the towel down, retracting your hand and making eye contact. Minho nodded. “When Jisung asks me to dance in the rain with him.” You blinked slowly. You didn’t think much of Minho when you first sat beside him in class, other than his obvious physical attraction, you knew nothing but his fabricated reputation. And yet, here you sat in his living room, worried and cautious over him while simultaneously laughing and enjoying his company.

You were unaware that he would soon become someone you’d think the world of, someone who’d make you laugh a little harder and feed your soul. Until then, he remained the boy who borrowed your pens, had a pretty laugh, and was sick from dancing in the rain.

“I’d like that.”

AN: A gentle or not so gentle reminder that this is written fanfiction. xoxo

𝙎𝙏RAy𝙎𝙏𝘼𝙍r★

[just-a-creep-babe]

Caught (NSFW)

(Creeps x Male! Reader)

Commissioned by @taboo-delusion tysm!! I really hope you enjoy 💖💞✨💖💓

Requests are closed but commissions are open!

Masterlist: x

BEN Drowned

When he first agrees to go for a snack run at the old abandoned gas station, he doesn’t expect it to be eventful

Despite being abandoned, the place is semi-regularly stocked by the proxies to use as a last-resort shelter and supply hoard in case anyone needs it

So it’s not like the building is used to seeing a lot of traffic, much less any kind of excitement

Which is why he never, ever in his undead life would have expected to walk in on what he does

Just barely half-concealed near the back of the store, BEN does a full-on double-take as he sees the newest member of the mansion naked, his legs spread and his cock hard and twitching as he pumps a gun in and out of his ass

It completely stuns BEN in place

He can't tear his eyes away from the shiny barrel rhythmically pounding in and out of the new guy's slick hole

With a low, whiny moan, he screws his eyes shut and throws his head back in sheer bliss, and it's like that's just enough to snap BEN out of it

He ducks behind a nearby shelf, the ghost of his heart pounding in his chest, and he prays he didn’t get noticed

When the faint moaning doesn’t subside, he realizes he’s probably in the clear

BEN counts down from ten to catch his breath, and then, with the adrenaline coursing through his system, he sneaks another peek

It’s filthy, perverted—a complete lack of respect and total breach of trust—but how could he not?

Acting on instinct, he whips out his phone, aims it at the pornographic scene unfolding just inches away from him, and hits record

Bloody Painter

It isn’t a particularly eventful night for Helen at first

Alone in the studio, inspiration just isn’t coming to him, and he finds himself zoning out in front of an empty canvas, hoping to get blessed with the miracle of motivation

When his phone buzzes, he initially doesn’t think much of it

It’s only when he opens it to a particularly interesting video that his lackluster night suddenly takes a turn

In a shoddy, poorly-lit building, the video cuts straight to the point with a guy squirming and whimpering, fully naked on the ground

He's fisting at his dick, whining under his breath, and at the same time, he's bouncing his ass against something dark and metallic

Squinting, Helen zooms in to confirm his suspicion; he’s fucking himself on a gun

If he wasn't so entranced by the sight, Helen might’ve wondered why the fuck this was sent to him

But his mind is suddenly blank, and the one thought he has left is who the fuck is that guy?

He racks his brain trying to think of anyone who might fit the description

And, suddenly, he realizes—that’s the new guy

The faintest hints of a smile ghost over the artist’s lips

He finishes watching the video, picks up a paintbrush, and brings it to the canvas

He gets the feeling that his next piece is going to be very inspired~

CandyPop

Candy generally doesn’t get too involved in whatever happens at the mansion

He gets along decently with some creeps, but he either doesn’t care about the others, or he’s grown to fully hate them over the years

Despite that, however, he adores meddling in other people's business

So when word starts spreading that the newest creep got caught and filmed jerking off with a gun, Candy just knows things are about to get exciting~

He asks around for a copy of the video, and right from the first watch, he's fascinated by the newest member

He can’t help but think what a good pet this creep would be to have around

Like, he seems kind of masochistic, a possible exhibitionist, and he likes receiving?

Sounds like way too much fun~

He watches the video an unhealthy amount of times, and although he isn’t welcomed at the mansion, he makes it a point to somehow meet this guy

The video gives Candy way too many ideas—which, for a demonic clown, is most certainly not a good thing

Unknowingly, it seems like the new guy's sexual habits are already garnering attention from some pretty dangerous entities

Whoopsies!

Clockwork

Clockwork regularly goes to that gas station

She likes the quiet solitude it offers, not to mention the weirdly cozy vibes and decent array of snack foods

So, naturally, when Toby suggests the snack run, Nat is one of the first to agree to join

She beelines it to her favorite spot in the building, the employee break room near the back, and as she approaches, she actually hears the new guy before seeing him

Is that… moaning?

Curiosity getting the better of her, she follows the sound

And right as she's about to stumble in on the big reveal, she's grabbed and yanked behind one of the nearby shelves

Instincts kicking in, she nearly punches BEN right in the face, but something stops her before she does

That look on his face

She pauses, notices the phone in his hand, and, combined with the sounds she's hearing, everything makes sense

Her face immediately flushes

Before she can stop herself, her eyes shift to the spot at the back corner, and, surely enough, she sees what’s happening

The new guy throws his head back, his body convulsing as he shudders and his cock twitches and throbs

He pumps the gun in and out faster, harder, like he’s approaching his climax

Before she can see anything more, before she violates his privacy any further, Nat spins on her heels and gets the hell out of there, too flustered to say or even do anything else

Dark Link

Like Candy, Dark doesn’t typically keep up with whatever the hell kind of nonsense happens at the mansion

So he only discovers the video when he's snooping through BEN’s files in an attempt to get the upper hand in their rivalry

As soon as he sees that video file, he knows he's in for a treat~

The guy, who he assumes must be a new member, isn’t too bad on the eyes to begin with

And when the video pans down to get a better view of just what he's using to jerk himself off, Dark needs to know more about him

He rummages through a few more files to find out more information on him, just for the fun of it

He honestly doesn't expect to do anything with the intel, but the deeper he looks into it, the more he wants to meet him

The more he wants to torment him

Technically, however, being on neutral terms with Slender means that he isn't allowed to do such things to members of the safehouse

So Dark realizes that he, unfortunately, will just have to wait for him to step out of the mansion's boundaries before trying anything a bit more... risky

If they do end up meeting, he plans on using the... intimate knowledge he has of him to embarrass him

And if they don’t meet anytime soon, he’ll simply have to content himself with replaying that video over and over and over again~

Eyeless Jack

Being more of an introvert, Jack doesn’t join the outing at the abandoned station

But as soon as everyone comes back, he can tell something is a bit… off

After cautiously asking around to find out what happened, he finally gets BEN to show him the video

And, let’s just say, Jack’s never been happier to have a mask concealing his face

He only lasts a few seconds in before telling BEN to turn that thing off

From an outside perspective, it probably looks like he disapproves of the creeps violating the newest member’s privacy

Which, to be fair, he does

But, more than that, he’s just really flustered about the whole thing

He doesn’t know how he’ll manage to face the new guy again

The next time they meet, Jack tries to act cool and natural, but he completely fumbles the bag and gets visibly flustered

If anything might tip the new guy off that something funky's going on, it's probably the way Jack acts around him from that point on

Homicidal Liu

Since Liu rarely uses the shelter of the mansion, it also takes him a while to find out about the incident

By the time he discovers it, chances are, the new guy knows he got busted, so most creeps are already in on his dirty little secret

It’s therefore a huge relief when the new guy initially meets Liu, and Liu doesn't seem to know about it

Their first meeting goes well, but, unfortunately, it doesn’t take long for Liu to find out about the video anyway

The difference between meeting the newbie normally and seeing how depraved he is when he's turned on is shocking

Next time he runs into him, it's almost hard not to gawk

Poor Liu gets too flustered trying to talk to him after seeing that side of him, so he inevitably ends up retreating into himself

Which gives just enough space for Sully to show face

And whew boy is Sully ever ruthless with the intel he has

They probably give the new guy whiplash if he wasn't previously warned about Liu's alter

As much as Liu was sweet and accommodating, Sully, on the other hand, takes pleasure in embarrassing the new guy until he’s squirming

He borderline starts degrading and dirty-mouthing him right then and there

And, unfortunately for the newbie, he very quickly becomes Sully’s new favorite plaything~

Hoodie

Also part of the gang going for the snack run, Hoodie has a sneaking suspicion it's going to be an eventful outing

Not necessarily because of anything, mind you—it's just a sort of premonition, if you will

And yet, even despite his intuition, it still catches him off guard when he hears that faint moaning coming from the back of the store

The sound leads him to BEN and Nat acting strange behind a shelf hidden off to the side

They don't notice him, so he stays just out of their line of sight as he peeks around the corner to the source of the quiet, shuddering breaths

And he absolutely can't contain that shit-eating grin on his face as he finds the newest member of the mansion unknowingly responsible for all of the agitation in the store

Fisting his cock, he quietly mewls and whimpers as he grinds his ass down against something long and hard that looks kind of familiar

Leaning in as much as he can without jeopardizing his hiding spot, Hoodie finally realizes what he's masturbating with

He’s about to pull out his phone, when Nat briskly turns and leaves

Right at the last second, he ducks out of sight, and when the coast is clear, he starts his own recording of the action

He doesn't know if he'll use it for blackmail, or just for his own... personal fun, but he figures it'll be useful to have, either way~

Jane the Killer

She originally hears the gossip about the new guy being an exhibitionist when she's out of town

When she returns to the mansion, Nat explains what happened, and Jane just doesn’t know how to react

He got caught doing what where??

She meets the newbie not too long after, and all she can think about while trying to make casual chit-chat is that she knows

She, for obvious reasons, doesn’t want to let on that she knows, and thankfully, her mask does a great job of concealing her expression

He doesn’t seem to notice what she’s thinking, and their interaction goes over pretty smoothly, all things considered

She gets the impression that he isn't a bad person, despite whatever kind of sexual habits he has, so she actually doesn't mind him

She's really not the type to kink shame, anyways

And so, after their meeting, Jane makes it a point to shut people down when they try to make rude or disrespectful comments about him

She hates bullying, and she's not afraid to stand up against assholes, even if she's alone in doing so, so she grows to become really protective of the newbie

She absolutely doesn’t let anyone tease him or make any kind of jokes at his expense

Whether he knows it or not, the new guy owes her big time for defending him so much

Jason the Toymaker

He’s one of the first “outsiders” to originally hear about it

He actually even gets his hands on a copy of the video

At first, he plans on using it for blackmail material as well

But as he watches through it, he can’t help but think how the new guy would make such a good addition to his collection of dolls

He could probably make him so nice and malleable, so deliciously obedient oh so easily~

And, really, he thinks, the mansion is already so full of creeps as is—would they really miss one measly little member?

Something about it—something about how pure and innocent, yet filthy and depraved the new guy looks as he fucks himself with a weapon in an abandoned gas station—it just kind of riles Jason up

And, being a very obsessive demon, it isn’t long before he realizes how badly he'd love to abduct the new guy and claim him

He thinks about all of the weapons he could use on him, all of the places he could test and push his limits to

It gives him way too many ideas

He makes it his goal to add him to his collection of dolls, and he’ll wait as long as it takes to get what he wants

Jeff the Killer

Jeff is minding his own business, for once, at the gas station during the snack run when he gets a text from BEN telling him to come to the back of the store

When he hears the faint moans and whimpers, he thinks BEN is playing some kind of prank

But boy is he ever wrong

He walks in on BEN sneakily filming the new guy, who’s bouncing up and down on a gun and panting like a depraved whore while he does so

Like most of the others, it takes him a second to process what he’s seeing

There’s no way he just walked in on that

He's too surprised to pull himself away at first, and when he snaps out of it, he realizes he's enjoying it too much to leave

He watches the whole show, even as the new guy starts moaning louder, even until his body starts shaking and his cock starts tensing and twitching as he approaches his peak

He can’t look away as the newbie throws his head back, plunges the gun as deep as it’ll go inside him, then cums all over himself in a sticky white mess

As he starts coming down from his high, both Jeff and BEN quickly sneak away to avoid being seen

And although Jeff doesn’t usually like newbies, he figures he might make an exception for this guy

Unfortunately for the new guy, however, Jeff's love language is bullying

And what he saw at that gas station is just perfect bullying material

And he doesn't plan on going easy on him just because he's new

Kate the Chaser

Since she’s antisocial, she’s hardly ever at the mansion, even despite being a proxy

She mostly just hangs around abandoned buildings, caves, half-decrepit huts in the woods—that kind of thing; and she feels very protective of those places

So when she senses a group of people wandering through what she’d consider her abandoned gas station, she makes sure to keep a close watch on everyone

She doesn’t actively see what happens with the new guy, but she definitely hears about it when everyone’s leaving the place

By overhearing bits of conversations, she's able to piece together what happened, and she develops a certain curiosity about the new guy

Kate teeters between states of consciousness, where, most of the time, she’s almost basically feral

But every now and then, remnants of her old humanity peek through

And hearing about this new guy somehow brings bits of her old self out, which piques her interest

It’s like a mix of curiosity and sexual fascination that has her sticking around to watch the new guy stumble his way back to the mansion

And even though she’d likely never confront him on her own, she secretly hopes that she’ll stumble in on him doing something like that again

Alas, until that day comes, maybe she’ll content herself with merely stalking him for now

Masky

Even though he and Hoodie are almost always together, he doesn’t join the group at the gas station

He needs to rest and recover, so he hangs back, but he immediately knows he missed out on something big when Hoodie comes back

And when Hoodie shows him the video, Masky's furious he missed out on it

Honestly, he gains some respect for the newbie for being so ballsy to pull something off like that

Unlike a lot of others, it doesn’t really affect the way he interacts with him afterward

He doesn’t get flustered, doesn’t tease or bully the guy about it, he doesn’t even mention it because, in Masky's opinion, it’s not that big of a deal

Really, all it does is make him more interested in seeing what other tricks the new guy has up his sleeve

He wouldn’t mind personally finding out about them~

Other than that, if he sees other creeps being excessive about their commentary towards the newbie, he’ll also shut them down alongside Jane

He figures it must suck for the poor guy, so he tries to minimize the damage however he can

Jane and Masky honestly kind of become the new guy’s lifeline after that incident

Nurse Ann

She also only hears about it much, much later since she usually stays off the grid

She’s masochistic, sadistic, and hypersexual, so she definitely gets having more… deviant sexual urges

Not to mention, with the sheer amount of strange people in that house, it really isn’t surprising that at least one of them would pull that kind of stunt

She doesn’t think too much of it as she goes about her work, but every now and then, she’s suddenly reminded of it out of nowhere

And she can’t help but think how fun it would be to use someone like that in her experiments~

So she keeps an eye out, and, similarly to Kate, she also hopes to have a random run-in with the new recruit

Honestly, she doesn’t even know who the new creep is or what he looks like—even if she did run into him—because they all look the same to her

But she knows that if she did get the chance to run into him, she also wouldn’t go easy on him

Honestly, Nurse Ann is definitely one of the more dangerous creeps, so garnering her attention is almost never a good thing

The new guy's unknowingly put himself in a lot of danger by attracting so many outsiders' attention

Offenderman

Oh, he absolutely adores hearing about this new creep~

He’s not technically banned from the mansion, but he’s on thin fucking ice, so he knows to be careful when he visits to meet him

Preying on people’s sexual urges is what he does best—it makes it all the easier to mold his victims into perfectly obedient little slaves~

So this new guy has him salivating at the thought of kidnapping him

Try as he might to be subtle about his intentions to whisk him away, Slender is, for obvious reasons, fully aware of what he’s trying to do

So new security measures are reinstated at the house, and the new guy is placed under extra protection

Which might be confusing to the new guy, since he doesn’t exactly know why he’s being so carefully protected

Why would anyone even care about a random newbie like him?

Even if he tries to ask Slender what the reasoning behind all the fuss is, Slender won't tell him because just knowing what Offender does can be risky

To counter the new safety precautions, Offender might try to bribe and manipulate creeps from the inside

And who knows; maybe one day, Offender will finally slip through Slender’s cracks and snatch up his prize~

Ticci Toby

Oh god oh god oh fuck

Initially the first one to suggest going for a snack run, he somehow blames himself for stumbling in on the new guy doing the dirty

He’s the first one to discover the scene, even before BEN walks in on it

And as soon as he sees it, as soon as he sees the new guy naked with his legs spread, squirming and whining with the barrel deep inside of him, Toby’s face goes red

He’s so close he can practically hear the slick sounds as he humps the weapon like a depraved little puppy

He’s frozen for a few seconds, too stunned to react, but once he comes to his senses, he immediately gets the hell out of dodge

But he doesn’t even make it all that far before he realizes—shit

There’s at least, like, five other creeps in here that might stumble in on him

He’s paralyzed in place as his mind races to figure out how to get everyone out without raising suspicion

But before he can think of a plan, BEN stumbles in on it and it’s all over

Not knowing what else to do, Toby practically makes a run for it because the secondhand embarrassment is too real

He comes face-to-face with Cody as he’s leaving, and when Cody asks what’s wrong, Toby blurts everything out before thinking twice

Needless to say, he’s insanely embarrassed about the whole thing, even though he’s not even the one who got caught

Poor guy can’t look the newbie in the eyes for a good few months after that incident

X-Virus

When Toby mentions a hideout off the side of an old highway, of course Cody wants to check it out

He thought it would be a nice, chill way to spend his evening, so you can just imagine his confusion when he runs into Toby, who looks like he just saw a ghost and is on the verge of crapping himself about it

Before he can even open his mouth to ask, Toby blurts everything out, and Cody is thoroughly stunned

The new guy is doing what? Here? Right now??

He can see that Toby is visibly shaken, so he does his best to calm him down

But the whole time he’s talking Toby down, all he can think about is how he wants this damn conversation to end so that he can go off and have a quick peek of his own

Like—it’s not his fault the new guy’s cute

And, surely, one quick little peek wouldn’t do anyone any harm, right?

Once Toby bails, Cody doesn’t think twice before going to the back of the store

A few creeps are huddled behind a shelf, watching the scene intently, and Cody gets his own spot to watch the show

He was already interested in the newbie before this, but now?

Oh, now he definitely wants more

Zalgo

The fact that he’s essentially the lord of the underworld, it’s nothing short of a miracle that news reaches him about a new sexually deviant creep

And at first, when the news does reach him, he honestly doesn’t care too much about it

Like, he’s basically the lord of sin—it takes a lot to impress him, even regarding sexual tendencies

It’s only one day, when nothing seems to be exciting him in the underworld, that he finally decides to investigate the new guy

What he discovers is actually fairly interesting, especially when he notices that other creeps and demons have developed an interest in him too

It means that the newbie might actually be more valuable than Zalgo initially realized

He gathers more intel on him, sending a few demons here and there to stalk him, all while remaining under Slender’s radar

And it, admittedly, is a long shot, but there’s a chance that this new guy might play a role in freeing the lord of the underworld from his imprisonment

He lays low for the most part, so it's not like the new guy is ever made aware of his presence, or even his existence as a whole

But the beginnings of a plan slowly yet surely start taking shape

Who knew such a small little mishap could cause such a stir?~

[anakinstwinklebunny]

hey queen i love ur writing!!! i was just wondering if you’d be down to write anymore dad!sam monroe stuff? i read ur last one and i loved it! it’s so rare to find sam stuff, let alone him as a dad el oh el 🙋‍♀️ if not it’s rlly cool ! i’m a big fan of u diva 💜

Author's note: now that's a really sweet message. I HAVE FANS OH MY AND I AM A DIVAAAAAA (instantly have Beyonce song in mind that existence i found out from tik tok)

TW: sam being a dad (lmao)

Dad!Sam who definitely got at least (and at frist) being yelled at by his mother after she found out you're pregnant and sam's going to be a father! But from the beginning she was all supportive and willing to help you

Dad!Sam who got that hardened, sometimes distant look, but when it comes to his kid? Pure, over-the-top, protective dad mode. He might be rough around the edges but the second his baby is involved, you and everyone can see this warmth in his eyes.

Dad!Sam who's definitely the kind of dad to insult every other kid but not his cute angel. He'd also give this pure 'dad look' whenever someone wants to mess with his kid

Dad!Sam who's the type to stay up late, laying on his son's bed, the little one cuddled to his side and (depends on the age) babbling/lisping about his day or anything he has in mind. Although Sam is not great with giving adive, hell, he often doesn't want to do this (out of his experience in life - or his lack of confidence to be in position to give such) yet he'll try to be honest, in the kidness way possible for SAM MONROE, saying something like - "life's tough, but you're tougher than anything out there" in such gentle whisper

Dad!Sam who became such a cuddly bear with his son. Often he'll just scoop him up and hug him close, inhaling the toddler's soft hair and pressing a light kiss there. Or sometimes he forgets to tuck his baby boy in his bed because bed time is already over and his mother (or you) have to wake him up, the teenager that's all cudled under a blanket with his twin, only for sam to blink blindly as curse under his nose without thinking

Dad!Sam who, after building a house with his father, started loving those little projects for his kid - whenever it was fixing a bike, or building a treehouse, a swing in the garden, he cherished it.

Dad!Sam who definitely called his son "kid"/"kiddo"/"buddy"/"little man"/"little guy"/"sam junior" (although your son was far from being named sam)

Dad!Sam who may seem like a guy who won't take responsibilty for his child, especially in that young age and with problems he had dealt with, but sam wasn't such bastard. He was extremely present in his son's life and wouldn't miss any of his big or little achievements, So, your pregnancy really did mature him

Dad!Sam who has no idea how to cook but tries his damn best, especially when his mother tried to teach him some recipes. But, Sam being Sam, burns most of the food - especially pancakes that your son loves. "this can't be that hard, right?" he'll mumble under his breath when yet another pancake turned out to be crispy

Dad!Sam who's not exactly 'the father of the year' material but he swears he's doing his best. He might not know how to do all the "kid" stuff, but he'll squat down to his son's eye level, ruffle his hair and try to figure things out on the spot. There's this tough softness to him, the way he tries to talk to his son seriously, like the little guy gets it all, even if half the time he's just babbling back at him

Dad!Sam who isn't one for lullabies, but he'll sit by his son's bed in the middle of the night and again sam being sam, humming soft rock tunes while letting the boy hold onto his hand if he can't sleep or had a nightmare

Dad!Sam who doesn't mind his boy clinging to his leg or, when sam's sitting on the floor, the little guy clambering all over him, especially pushing himself under sam's arm so he'd hug him

Dad!Sam who tries to hide this gentlesness he has but it's clear it doesn't work whenever he'll fix the boy's shirt, or very gently dress him up, softly talking to the boy random things or when he brushes crumbs off his son's chubby cheeks

Dad!Sam who's obviously having this proud dad face when he sees his boy taking first steps with you. And when the giggling toddler will land on him, he'll just catch him, murmuring "now look at you, becoming a big guy already..wow"

Dad!Sam who's natural when it comes to showing his son simple things, like picking up sticks or skipping rocks. It's quiet, no big lessons needed, just Sam kneeling down, guiding his son's tiny hands and watching with that rare grin when he actually gets it right "just like that buddy" he'll say, pride in his voice as he watches his kid grope all over the tecture of rock. It's just two of them sitting by the lake like it's the most important thing in the world, while you are in the background with both his family and yours

Dad!Sam who every night, does that little routine, where he tucks his boy in, his big hands gently patting the blanket down. He'll smooth back his kid's hair, fingers lingering just a second longer, and whisper "goodnight, pal" his son reaches up, as usually, fingers trying to grab at his dad's shirt. So sam stays till those cute little fingers go slack, and when the little guy is all asleep, sam will kiss his forehead a few times

TAG LIST: @kingdomhate @divineani @haydensprettyprincess @skyguys-princess @catnipaddictt @heartscone @haydensbbg @inneedsoffanfics @jediavengers @literally-izzy @anisluvrgirl @slutforfinnickodair @xhunnybeeex @fuckmyskywalker @gallerygourmet @deceptiive @anakinskwkler @bimbo-baggins17 @cookybananas @emotionallybruisedx @diorvalentina @sevinax @throughparisallthroughrome @aniiuv @ritosparty @ninastyless

[effloradox]

Means To An End

pairings: hitachiin twins x gn!reader, ohshc x gn!reader

summary: tensions are running high in the host club when the twins start to fight over a comment made by Haruhi. as their best friend, everyone expects you to have the answers but when you failed to notice any tension between the two of them, you’re left wondering if you don’t know them as well as you thought.

notes: set during episode 1.05 (the twins fight), works in the same verse as We Want You Here but is fine as a stand-alone fic too

word count: 2.2k

There’s trouble in the air. You’d say you can smell it, but with all the rose bouquets scattered around Music Room 3 it’s hard to get away from the floral smells that all your friends, hosts or otherwise, are perpetually laced with. Yesterday had been normal as far as you could tell, even if you had left school early for an appointment, but when the twins’ car had arrived at your home to pick you up to take you to school you’d been surprised to see them sporting new hair colours.

“Should I be worried about that?” The two of them raised an eyebrow in unison before your eyes drifted up to their hair. You couldn’t deny that the blue and the pink suited them really well but they’d never expressed an interest in dyeing their hair before. Not to mention how much their mother loves their natural hair colour. To dye it on a whim with no deeper purpose would be seen as a crime in her eyes. Yuzuha Hitachiin is not a woman to cross, you don’t want to think about the arguments had over this new development in the twin’s appearance. They exchange one more glance between themselves before Kaoru finally answers your question.

“It’s a means to an end.” You take a few moments to mull over the vagueness of his words, staring hard at the blue, before replying.

“Am I going to be dragged into the middle of it?”

“We’d prefer it if you didn’t.” At Hikaru’s words, the tension in the car seems to evaporate and you finally relax into your seat. You drop your bag onto the seat next to you, smoothing a crease in your uniform.

“Suits me just fine.” The rest of the journey is filled with small talk and petty gossip, just the way you like to spend your morning journey to Ouran. By the time the three of you have arrived at school you’re almost used to their new looks.

It takes until your lunch period for you to actually find out the reason for the twins’ weird behaviour. Your involvement in various clubs and extracurriculars had kept you busy and away from your friends aside from shared classes where you’d been too busy studying for upcoming exams to pay attention to your idiotic best friends. You finally had a moment of peace on your way to the dining hall when a commotion drew your attention. The pink and blue hair makes it incredibly easy to identify the twins and you can only watch in mild horror at the food fight that has broken out between the two of them. You’d been more than content to turn on your heel and head back where you came from when a foreign pair of arms grab you, pulling you down a corridor not far from the dining hall.

“I demand you tell me what’s going on with those shady twins!” It takes you a few beats to realise that it’s Tamaki that pulled you away. You’re more than used to being manhandled by the twins but Tamaki doesn’t seem like the type to do so unprompted to anyone but Haruhi. When Kyoya appears in front of you as well, you begin to suspect maybe he put the Host Club King up to the mild kidnapping he’s just committed.

"I have no idea Tamaki-Senpai.” Your words send the blonde into a predictable fit of despair and it becomes clear to both you and Kyoya that he will no longer be an active part of this conversation. The two of you are more than used to tuning out Tamaki’s breakdowns so it’s easy to pick up the conversation without his involvement.

“It’s in your best interest to tell us everything you know (Y/N).”

“They told me not to get involved. I’ve learned to trust them when they say that.” You can tell your answer hasn’t pleased the megane but you can’t really find it in yourself to care much. If the twins told you not to get involved, you’re more than happy to let whatever this is blow over without it affecting you as well. Since you’re not a host and whatever they’re doing doesn’t affect your classes together you’re more than happy to watch from the sidelines. If it truly is just a means to an end like Kaoru said it was, you can’t imagine whatever they’re doing will last longer than a day or two. “I’ll see you both at the club after class for my usual appointment.”

It’s only when you’ve started to walk away that Kyoya responds to your statement in a monotone voice that somehow feels more calculated than usual. “If things continue the way they have been, we might be unable to fulfil your usual appointment. We’re down a pair of loving brothers you see.” You stop walking at his final words, turning on your heel to face him.

“What do you mean?” Your question, plus the blank look that appears on your face, instantly brings Tamaki out of his fit as he looks at you with an expression you can’t quite read. You place it somewhere between bewildered and perplexed but there’s another part of it that you find yourself disliking.

“Haven’t you heard? Hikaru and Kaoru are fighting.” It almost feels like the world stops spinning for a few moments as you process Tamaki’s words. The problem is that the world starts spinning again and you can almost feel the system error taking place in your mind as you wait for the blonde to tell you he’s joking. When Tamaki doesn’t rescind his sentence you feel the first prickle of anxiety starting in the back of your mind.

“They don’t fight.” Tamaki merely blinks at you owlishly.

“They’ve been fighting since yesterday. It started at the club.”

"If they were fighting, I would know."

“Is it possible that you don’t know them as well as you thought?” Part of you knows that Kyoya doesn’t mean his question to sound as harsh as it does but it still stings somewhere deep inside you.

The twins might not have fully opened up to the host club yet but you know them. There’s no way they could be fighting; there’s no way you could’ve misread the car journey that badly to miss some sign that there was disharmony between them. They’re never fought in all the years you’ve known them.

“I’ll guess we’ll find out after classes are over.” Your tone sounds more defeated than you’d care to acknowledge and you’re quick to turn away from the two hosts before you spot any kind of pity growing in their expressions.

It’s almost a relief when your free period starts and you can spend your time as you wish. Normally you’d seek the twins out, or vice versa, but something about your earlier conversation with Tamaki and Kyoya is replaying in your mind and the idea of sitting and stewing in a crowded library sounds like the worst thing on earth. You find yourself walking through the grounds of the academy, hoping some fresh air and sunlight will do something to improve your mood. It almost works until you hear a loud shout from behind you.

“Hey! (Y/N) wait!” You start to quicken your pace when you hear two sets of footsteps coming up behind you but it’s not long before Hikaru and Kaoru catch up to you. They come to a stop a few paces behind you, waiting for you to turn around and face them. The bright colours of their hair make you feel sick.

“What gives?”

“Yeah, why’d you ditch us?”

“I don’t know what you’re doing, but you need to wrap it up soon.” It’s clear your comment isn’t what the twins were expecting from you when they flinch back at your tone.

“What're you talking about?" You narrow your eyes at them.

“Your means to an end. Whatever the end is, I hope it’s worth it.” The way the two of them look at each other when you speak sends a wave of irritation over you that you rarely feel towards your best friends. It feels like they're in on some joke that you've been left behind on and you don't enjoy the feeling.

"Don't be like that."

"Yeah, it's not a big deal." Hikaru's blasé tone does nothing to soothe your irritation.

"Kyoya seems to think it is. He also seems to think I don't know you well enough to notice that you're fighting." Your words get the first serious reaction from the twins as they look at you with an unreadable expression on their faces.

"When did Kyoya say that?" Hikaru's tone is cold and you can't tell whether that's directed towards you or Kyoya. Or both. Maybe both.

"During your little display at lunch. Him and Tamaki pulled me out of the dining hall to try and work out what the fuck is going on."

"He had no right to involve you."

"Yeah, it's none of their business."

"Actually it's entirely their business if it directly affects the host club. Which it seems like it has since Kyoya’s cancelling appointments.”

“It’ll be over soon, we told you.”

"I don't know why you're pretending to fight, but I want no part of it. You told me you didn't want me involved and I was fine with that but now I am involved and I want out."

"We didn't mean for this to happen to you."

"I know."

“We’re sorry.”

“…I know.” Kaoru is the first to approach you, waiting for your reaction. When you don't take a step back, he approaches and pulls you into a hug. His brother is quick to follow and the three of you spend the next few moments entwined in silence. You listen for their breaths and even your breathing so that you're all in sync.

Their synchronicity is an ability that is as innate to them as breathing and it always feels special when they let you in for moments like this. It's only when your breathing is completely in line with theirs that you begin to untangle yourself from their arms. The events of the day feel like they’ve hit you with full effect and you’re left feeling weary.

"I'm going to go home. I'll see you tomorrow." The twins let you go without protest, the weight of their gaze heavy on you as you walk towards the main building of Ouran. After muttering some excuse about feeling unwell, it’s not long before you’re in your car on the way back home and it’s all you can do to put the events of the day behind you.

When you wake up the day after, you’re honestly not sure what to expect when one of your maids tells you that the twins' car has pulled up to take you to school. It’s nothing out of the ordinary, in fact it'd be more unusual if they didn’t, so it’s not hard to see that your maids are confused by your hesitancy to go to school. You climb into the car and sit in your usual seat, barely looking up at your companions as you grab your seatbelt and secure it. It’s only when you look away from the seatbelt that something odd about the energy in the car hits you.

It takes you a few seconds to realise why something feels off. They’ve switched colours. The weight of their eyes on you makes you shift in your seat and the seatbelt suddenly feels far too restrictive.

“Aren’t you worried about frying your hair if you keep changing it?” The smiles that appear on your friends' faces immediately settle your anxiety. If this was some test, you’ve definitely passed it.

“No one else noticed.” In a way, you’re unsurprised by that. The two of them pretend to be each other so frequently that you can only imagine their house staff have long since given up trying to work out who’s who.

“Don’t you think it’s a bit cruel to give people a way to tell you apart only to pull the rug from under them by changing it immediately?”

“We don’t want everyone to know who’s who.”

“Yeah, it takes away from our mystique.” It’s a fair comment, one you can’t refute, but there still seems to be a gaping hole in their logic.

“Some people will still know.” You gesture to yourself as an example, watching as their smiles seem to get a fraction wider.

“Yeah.”

“You'll know.”

“Looks like you do know us well enough after all.” Hikaru’s words take you by surprise. The three of you have never been the type to be overly doting on each other and you’re not sure if you’re reading the situation right.

“You did this for me?”

“Of course!”

“Can’t have Kyoya thinking he knows everything, can we?” Hikaru’s words touch you in a way you don’t think you’d be able to put into words, and as soon as the moment is with you, it’s passed; as is usually the case with the twins.

“So! You missed the craziest love confession after school yesterday…” As Kaoru goes into a tirade about some poor girl who tried to confess to Haruhi, it’s all you can do to bask in the moment of harmony with the two of them.

A/N: I’m kind of obsessed with the concept of the twins having this long suffering friend figure in their life, I think it’s such a fun avenue to go down with Ouran fics.

[writingintheshadowsforever]

Imagine agreeing to marry Namor to bring peace between Wakanda and Talokan

Warning: Spoliers for Black Panther Wakanda Forever

"Your people would never accept an outsider as their queen." You scoffed moving your face away from his hand.

"You're the only human on the surface world who can visit Talokan without the confinement of a suit. Your power is truly limitless my people would see you as a Goddess. The same way they see me as a God, and they would happily bow down before you" Namor declared.

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion trying to figure out just how much he knew about your abilities. You'd only gone out into the ocean once to test the limits of your water manipulation. It turns out you were able to breathe underwater, and your body could withstand the pressure of the ocean. Namor must have been near the beach that day. Just how long had he been watching you?

"Princess you have to understand your power truly captivated me when I first witnessed it. A human able to become one with nature there must be a reason. The heavens above picked you to wield such power you belong on a throne." Namor said as if he could read your mind.

"My mother would never let you take me away from her" You tried again.

"You are not a child and can make your own decisions. I have no intention of forcing you to join me in Talokan, but if you choose to come with me willingly. What can she do?"

"We don't know or love with each other" You pointed out. That was the last argument you had under your belt.

Namor shook his head "kings and queens hardly marry out of love. The greatest of them tend to marry for power."

"I have plenty of power Namor."

He gently took you by chin bringing your face back to his. "Mi amour we can always learn how to love each other."

Your eyes locked onto his searching for any sign of deception, but there was none. His expression softened as your breath hitched, and you brought a hand to his. "Let me show my kingdom y/n please" he offered. Namor got to his feet and started walking back into the water. He paused once he waist deep to turn back to you holding out his hand.

"No games?" You questioned with a frown.

"No games" he promised beckoning for you to come to him. You glanced back in the direction of your jet. Queen Romanda would be able to track it, and she would if you didn't return home soon. It was a miracle you were able to sneak out in the first place. If it wasn't for the Dora Milaje being in the Council meeting along with all the other guards. Your absence would’ve been brought to light, and you weren't sure of how much time you had left. This was only supposed to be civil discussion to try and reach a peaceful agreement with him. Now its an involved into a marriage proposal and a journey to an underwater kingdom.

"Princess y/n" Namor called out to you softly.

You turned back to him still standing with his hand outstretched. "We need to be quick. My people will come looking for me soon."

Namor nodded his mouth moving upward into a giant grin when you stood up and made your way to him. The second your hand was in his he pulled your body to his. It was kind of hard to really get a good grip on him without wrapping both of your arms around his waist. Because his body was slick with water he secured a firm hold on your waist as well. "Hold on tight princess, and no matter what don't let go into we're in Talokan." Those were his final words before he let himself sink into the ocean taking you with him.

Talokan was unmatched in beauty and wonder even though you had no intention on accepting his proposal. You wouldn't have minded spending sometime down there to truly explore the city. The underwater sun brought tears to your eyes. When you turned to him there was genuine smile on his face. At the end of the day Namor loved his people and truly just wanted to protect his home. But unfortunately you were on a strict time limit, and before you knew it. The adventure was over and Namor had returned to beach.

"Now that you have seen Talokan with your own eyes maybe you will change your mind. It can be your home to princess." He said before officially parting ways with you.

You returned to Wakanda immediately after that and spoke of the offer to no one. If your mother found out what happened, and that he wanted your hand in marriage. She would panic leading to you being whisked away in hiding.

But soon enough you would wish that you had accepted his offer that night on the beach.

Two Days Later

One bad decision led to another and now things were getting out of hand. When it came to your knowledge that Namor's army had ambushed Okoye and Shuri in America, while they were in the middle of. Retrieving the scientist who turned out to just be a nineteen year-old girl in college. You wasted no time in finding your mother to plead your case. You wanted to go with Nakia on her mission to save Shuri and Riri, only you proposed that they leave you behind.

"You expect me to let you surrender yourself to a man who threatened my entire country and my life". She snapped at you her eyes filled with hurt and fear. Your mother truly didn't understand why you trusted Namor so much. In honesty you didn't but you knew if you took Shuri's place. Then it would be easier to keep him calm.

Queen Romanda had you sent to your room where she ordered the Dora Milaje to keep you. Until they got word from her that you could be free again, and for the first time in your life. You truly knew what it was like to be grounded. You didn't get the chance to escape until Namor invaded Wakanda, and by then the damage was done. You left the palace to provide aide to your people as the water rose up within the city. For the first time the people of Wakanda witnessed your powers as you used them to free them from the water. Namor was so focused on the battle at hand. He flew right past you as you brought a family to safety. He moved like a bullet through the sky making sharp spin moves to bring down the aircrafts. It was then you realized he had a specific destination in mind. The memory his promise to take your mother's life hit you like a ton of bricks, and you made your way back to the palace.

"Namor no" You shouted a few feet away from him held up in the air by a floating boulder.

But it was too late Namor threw a hand full of water grenades at the crack in the window. The entire front of the palace exploded as the water grenades went off knocking your mother and the girl back. You directed your boulder over to him slamming a fist into his left cheek. His head snapped to the side from the impact, but the punch didn't faze him the slightest. He turned his head back to you fury in his eyes matching your own. "I warned her and you of what would happen. My original offer still stands if you truly want to put an end to this."

"How could you think that I would even want to look at you again after what you just did" You sneered at him.

Namor leaned his head down to put his mouth to your ear. "It isn't over for her yet you can still save her princess."

You whirled around to a tragic scene of Akena holding Shuri back while Okoye and Nakia attempted to resuscitate your mother, and the young girl. Riri came to first coughing up water as Nakia rolled her over to her side. But your mother was still unconscious You lowered the boulder and leapt into the palace. You ran over dropping down to. your knees before your mother. Your hands shoving Okoye away without a word as you felt for the water in her lungs. Once you locked onto it everyone watched in awe and surprise as you bended it out of her. Queen Romanda's eyes shot open as she attempted to cough up the water, but it was gone. Her eyes looked around frantically until finally they settled on you.

Tears builded up in your eyes as your head dropped to her stomach. Shuri had broke free from Akena and M'Baku somehow to come over and join you.

"Princess y/n how did you?" Nakia said leaving the question to hang in the air.

"Fishman you would be wise to leave now" M'Baku shouted pointing his staff at. Namor who was still hovering right outside of the palace observing all of you.

Queen Romanda pushed herself up into a sitting position with Shuri supporting her from behind. Her eyes found Namor and you never seen your mother so furious. He attempted to take her life, and almost succeeded. Not to mention his attack did lead to the death of some of your people. She wouldn't be able to overlook all of that. His actions would be considered an act of war.

Unless.

You climbed back to your feet to slowly walk over to the opening where the windows use to be. M'Baku shouted for you to stop as Namor flew over to meet you.

"Princess y/n" Okoye cried taking a few steps forward.

You positioned your body sideways holding out a hand towards all of them. A gust of wind was summoned to keep them at bay. By now Namor was standing only a few inches away from you half a step forward would close the distance.

"If I accept your offer you must agree to my terms" You told your voice just a whisper. No one else could hear the exchange.

He simply gave you a nod.

"You will never attack or step foot in Wakanda again unless you are summoned here."

A nod.

"You will allow me to return home at least three months out of the year."

Another nod.

"You will not sneak out a war with the surface world unless they attack you first. Which they won't because Wakanda will keep your secret and protect you from discovery."

Namor didn't seem to happy about that one, but nevertheless he gave you a nod after three long seconds. At that you nodded at him in return "I will accept your proposal for marriage."

Namor smiled as the room erupted into a series of gasps and protests. Queen Romanda was on her feet in seconds storming over to yank you behind her. "You will do no such thing y/n" she insisted before turning to Namor. "My daughter will be going nowhere with you."

"It's not your choice Queen and if you try to keep my wife away from me-" He started to threaten but a light jolt of electricity had him hissing in pain, and backing away. His eyes found yours as you glared at him.

"No more threats Namor" You demanded.

He took a deep breath before speaking again. "Bury your dead. Mourn your loss. Say your goodbyes. I will return for her at dawn if she's not at our usual spot waiting for me. I will come here for her." With those words he shot off like a bullet disappearing into the water.

Your mother whirled around to face you with betrayal in her eyes. "Usual spot?"

"There's a beach I would go to with T'Challa to practice control over my powers before he died. He was the only one who knew what I could do after his death. I went back to feel connected to him, and apparently Namor use to watch me from the water or sky. I didn't know until a couple of days ago" You explained to her.

"I will not permit you to marry him" She demanded.

"Mother its the only way to prevent a war between our two kingdoms and you know it" You insisted.

"Dear sister please don't do this" Shuri pleaded wrapping her arms around you from behind. Her face buried into the back of your neck.

You could feel her tears bringing a hand up to squeeze her arm. "If anyone in this room has a better idea, I would love to hear it."

No one spoke up.

"My daughter" Queen Romanda whispered taking your face in both of her hands. She leaned down pressing her forehead to yours.

"I have to do this mom this is for Wakanda, and maybe one day I can learn to love him" You whispered.

There was just silence as her arms wrapped took place where they could. You stood there embraced by your mother and sister for the longest just relishing in their love. Knowing that by nightfall you would be in a new home.

Talokan.