#So the prompt today is love triangle!

[tsuutarr]

With a dazzling burst of light, your summoning circle flickers as a figure begins to materialize with a golden glow. Soon, bright violet eyes meet yours.

“Are you my new witch?” the voice gasps, eyes sunny and smile toothy.

You give him an affirmative, which makes the light spirit seem to glow even brighter.

“Oh! I’m so excited!” he beams, bursting with sunlight and energy. He grabs your hands in his, warming up your skin. “I’ll be the best familiar ever, promise!”

And he is a rather good familiar, doing everything you instruct without much protest or error. His upbeat attitude is really pleasant to be around, too.

The only catch is that he changes at night. When the sun goes down, basking him with moonlight instead of sunlight, his skin turns from gold and sunkissed to silver and moonkissed. 

“Did he not tell you?” your new moonkissed familiar asks, referring to his sunny counterpart. “What a loser...” He eyes you up and down, before letting out a small huff. “I guess you’ll do fine.”

Your moonkissed familiar is… more terse and sharp edged, his lips in a perpetual scowl. However, it’s evident that he doesn’t really mind being yours – not with how he follows you around, helping you with the little things. And when you curl up at night to go to bed, he’s a comfortable pillow that lets you cuddle him close.

“It’s not fair,” your sunkissed companion complains when you awake with the sun. “He gets to cuddle you? I wanna hold you too!”

It’s really not your fault, but your sunkissed companion is too much like a puppy to take too seriously. So, instead, you allow him to hug you more, his hands clinging to you whenever they can.

“You’re just lettin’ him touch you whenever?” your moonkissed companion asks when the moon is in its zenith. You give a curious look, which makes him scowl, his gaze flickering away. “I’m just sayin’ okay? It’s not ‘cause I’m jealous or something.”

Oh, so he’s jealous. Now that you think about it, you’re pretty sure your sunkissed companion was jealous, too.

You’re really not sure what to make of this revelation, though. The last thing you expected was to be stuck in a love triangle between your… familiar? Familiars? They’re technically the same familiar, but they’re also not, which is kind of complicated.

Well… it’s nothing to worry about, probably.

But oh, how wrong you are. As the days pass, that much is obvious.

“You like me better, right?” your sunkissed familiar asks, suffocating you with his warmth. He’s gotten clingier and clingier, smothering you with his presence.

“There’s no way you like that dolt better,” your moonkissed familiar states, constantly hovering over you with his chill. You don’t know if he’s aware of it or not, but you’ve been getting less and less sleep with him around.

Nowadays, they’re just… always around you. Day and night. There’s no escape, no room to breathe. They’re always there somehow, always watching.

It’s driving you crazy. Maybe it is something to worry about. Maybe it’s for the best if you cancel the familiar contract.

“What?” your sunkissed familiar asks, eyes wide. “Oh, no, no. Darling witch, why would you say that?”

As you feel him burn hotter, you quickly realize that bringing up the idea to him was a mistake.

After all, light spirits are notoriously powerful and you’re just a newbie witch. There’s no way you can control him unless he offers that control to you – you should’ve realized that.

And, well, from the look in his eyes, it looks like he’s done letting you take charge.

“You’re our witch, darling. For as long as the light shines.”

[luveline]

pleaseee anything angsty with bombshell!reader and spencer!! love you

love you!

When Jason Gideon dies, it’s alone with his murderer. Isolated from friends and family, years after you last heard from him. Spencer hasn’t spoken to him since he left, and yet the ruin on his face when it’s confirmed to be Gideon churns your stomach. 

He rushes out of the room. 

You look at Gideon, dead, and regret that you never got along. You barely knew him. So when Derek leaves to follow Spencer out, you don’t go with them, thinking Derek has better common ground. 

“You okay?” you ask Hotch quietly. 

He nods, solemn. “Do you want to go check on Reid?” he asks, equally hushed. 

“I think Morgan has it for now.” You turn away from Gideon. You don’t want to see him dead, it’s too scary when it’s someone you know. It reminds you that it could’ve been you, or Spencer. 

You don’t find time to speak to your poor bookworm until later that night when you’ve been forced to retire in dinky motel rooms. You and Spencer used to share because you were the only person normal enough not to complain when he infodumps, and because you were fond of him. Then because you were best friends, and now because you’re in love. How lucky you’ve been. 

He’s always had it rough, though. 

You’d asked him multiple times throughout the day if he was okay, and every now and then he’d nodded or sniffled, but now he’s alone with you his facade fades completely, and you want to have a real talk. 

His shoulders rock. You reach out for him. He breaks for the bathroom. 

“Spencer?” you ask, startled. 

The door shuts hard between you, frame shaking.

“Spencer, are you okay?” 

You cross the brown carpeting to grab the handle. You pause there, heart dropping as the weak sound of muffled sobbing reaches your ears. “Spencer,” you say, soft, and without any teasing. You’re capable of seriousness sometimes. “Sweetheart, are you okay?” 

“Can I be alone?” he asks.

He sounds strained. 

“I’d rather you weren’t. I don’t know what you’ll do.” 

“What?” he asks. 

“People do strange things when they’re upset. I just want to be with you, that’s all.” 

“I’m fine,” he says shortly. 

You’d be offended, but like you said. People do strange things when they’re upset, and this is worse than just being upset. This is grief. Intangible, cruel. Spencer has a history of doing things that aren’t good for him when he’s hurting. You’ve no interest in leaving him alone. 

“Spencer… I love you. I want to be near you.”

Your straight-forwardness pays off. 

“Okay,” he says. “It’s not locked.” 

That’s reassuring. You open the door, find him standing at the sink with his cheeks wet with thick tears. He crumples when he sees you, hiding his face in his hands. 

You’re not sure what to do. Loving someone, you tend to love all of them, and you’ve yet to find parts of Spencer you couldn’t adore, but he just lost somebody important to him and you have no idea how to handle it. You decide to try, whether jumping into it will do any good or not. You walk right into his chest and hug him. 

“Sorry,” you murmur, “I love you. I’m so sorry.” 

“It’s okay.” He takes a shaky, odd breath, like he might laugh. He tries to as he holds your shoulders. “God, it’s okay, don’t be sorry.” 

“I am. It’s not fair. I never want you to lose anyone.” 

He presses his lips into a hard line and nods, prompting tears down his cheeks one after the other. “It’s okay.” 

It’s not okay. Spencer cries and you watch him, his hands weak on your shoulders. His hair is greasy at the roots from all the heat of being upset, his face pink, his eyes swollen and sore. His lashes are sticking together in dark triangles, while his sclera turns bloodshot. It’s clear that today has been extremely hard on him, and you should’ve done more. “I should’ve come after you, I’m sorry. I thought Morgan would have a better chance at making you feel better.” You wipe his cheeks, and tuck lank hair behind his ears. “I need you to know I’m here for you.” 

He’s putting on a brave face, slowly but surely. “I know that.” 

“Listen, do you want to shower?” you ask. 

“I want to sit down forever.” 

“We’ll shower first. I’ll come in with you, alright? We can wash your hair, the warm water will be good for your eyes.” You frown sympathetically. “You’ve cried all day.” 

“I can’t believe he’s gone. I wish I’d tried harder to see him. To talk to him again.” 

“You can… I know it’s not the same, but you can tell me. Anything you wanted to say to him, I’ll listen. You can tell me everything.” 

He nods again. More brave face, more unnerving, fake smile. 

You run your hands down his hair, and use your hands to tilt his head forward gently. “You can be alone if you really want to, but I just can’t have that closed door. You understand?” 

“No, I want to shower with you.” He sniffs. “Sorry if I scared you.” 

“It’s not scary.” You curl your arm behind his neck to pull him in for a careful hug. You hold him without moving, relieved when he holds you back, though his hands are limp where they’d usually be rubbing at your shoulders. “It wasn’t scary, I mean. I didn’t mean to suggest you’d do something, but I think the last thing you should be right now is alone. Thanks for letting me stay.” 

He breathes in your neck. “This is nice.” 

You bend back to encourage him further into your arms. “You’re doing so well,” you murmur, rubbing his back in a slow stroke, “you can get through this. We’ll do right by him, I promise. You’re not alone.” 

“I used to feel it. He was the first person who… really looked out for me, before he left.” Spencer sniffles, glassy eyes softening where he looks down at you. “Nobody’s ever stayed with me. No one.” 

“Well, I’m not going anywhere.” 

He sniffles again. “I know… Will you still shower with me?” 

“Mm-hm. Wash your hair for you, if you want me to.” 

“Please.” 

“Costs a kiss,” you say softly. 

“You want one from me right now?” he asks. He’s joking, because he knows you always want one. 

Your spirits finally begin to recuperate. “Plant one on me, handsome… only if you want to.” 

He turns away from you to wipe his face, both of you laughing, him wetly, you in relief. Both with a little bit of guilt. Maybe because life goes on without the people who pass, and that will always feel wrong. 

He turns back to you. Sadness darkens his eyes, but he closes them and leans down tentatively to kiss you. 

You take his soft one, borrow a firmer one, and wrap him up in another hug. Love you, love you, love you, you think. You’re going to make sure that he’s okay. 

[gay-dorito-dust]

Giving Bill Cipher the princess treatment prompt or hc's? (Bill totally isn't threatening Reader's entire family if they don't princess carry him and call him babygirl) I love how you write Bill by the way!

Warning: unhealthy relationship stuff and threats from bill.

After everything that went down with sixer and his supposed ‘betrayal’ bill didn’t think he’d find an another puppet companion so soon until one day he came across poor unfortunate you.

Some half baked sob stories of his origins and looking through his fingers at you to make sure you were feeling sympathy for him later, and you were effectively under his thumb by the end of the week. The quickest he’s ever manipulated someone into feeling sorry for him yet!

Now you were stuck forced to carry him in your arms whenever he wished and calling him…baby girl…why you never bothered to ask as whenever you did raise things into question with Bill it usual turns out something like this:

You: don’t you think that’s a little extreme?

Bill: and here I thought you were suppose to be supportive of my dreams and aspirations. Oh well I guess you didn’t need your family that much if you’re quick to question me-

You: No! It’s a brilliant plan! No flaws at all! You’re so smart…baby girl…

Bill: *smirks when you fall back in line* good now I demand to be carried in your arms *he gives you grabby hands*

You: *sigh* yes baby girl *proceeds to pick him up and carry him for the rest of the day*

You’d even have to call Bill baby girl when your mad unless you wanted the corpses of your family to be piled up on your front door!

It was ridiculous but what could you do when stuck in a less than ideal relationship with a demonic triangle who could bring you to heel with a simple click of his fingers? You were doomed to be his servant for the sake of your family and even if you did go to anyone about it, who’d believe you? You’d be the new old man Mcgucket for certain.

So you only sigh and do whatever Bill wanted in hopes it will satisfy him enough to leave your family alone, even if it was brief.

The worst case scenario would be If bill saw that you weren’t being enthusiastic in your affection towards him, then that would be a harder thing to dig your way out of. It didn’t matter whether you were tired mentally or physically, if Bill wanted to be carried in your arms he will want you to do so with a complicit smile on your face.

Bill: you don’t look happy to be carrying me? *squints his eye*

You: *quickly puts on a fake smile* what?! I’m more than happy to carry my baby girl! It’s the only highlight of my day, nothing could ever compete with spending time with my baby girl!

Bill: good! For a second there I thought you’d have to be attending a family members funeral for a moment. Haha guess I must’ve been seeing things, right? *he stares uncomfortably at you*

You: yeah because how could I ever show you any other emotion other than happiness and love. *internally dying*

Bill: also don’t over compliment me, it makes you look clingy and I don’t like clingy.

You internally: as if you aren’t clingy yourself you fucking discarded sentient Dorito chip.

It’s better to keep playing his game until he inevitably grows bored of you, and god forbid if you ever encounter Stanford Pines ever, your family is certain for destruction if Bill caught you talking to his traitorous ex partner. (Potential for Stanford x reader?)

Needles to say if you were to ever be granted the ability to time travel, you’d go back and warn yourself to not trust Bill Cipher, not if you want your family’s blood on your hands just because you didn’t call him Babygirl first thing in the morning.

You: morning bi-

Bill: whichever family member your love the most will die in 5 seconds if you don’t correct yourself sweetie.

You: morning babygirl, what should we do today?

Bill: *pats you on the shoulder* that wasn’t so hard was it? And I don’t feel like doing anything that requires me to part from you for suspicious periods of time incase you do something I don’t like. *stares at you menacingly*

You: good choice! All day with my babygirl? I’m so lucky…so extremely….lucky. *looks over at the photo of your family and friends* blessed even…

Bill: you sure are! Now why don’t you carry me! *grabby hands 2.0*

[hollyhomburg]

Before I Leave You (Pt.82)

(Sneak Peek)(Omegaverse au, Mafia au, Bts x Reader)

Summary: The first beach day of the season prompts both You and Tae to talk through some of your sadness. This time, you do something about it. "You’re so gentle. I don’t think you understand it.”

Tags: Trans! Tae, Dysphoria, talks of jealousy and love, top surgery/boob jobs, medical talk, talk of weight gain, body insecurity, body dysmorphia, boobs, fingering, mild dirty talk, voyeurism, Talks of depression, mention of seizures but no seizures today, fluff, angst, hurt/comfort, talk of marriage and wedding rings, mentions of past physical abuse, mentions of ptsd, scars, this is the beach episode that all anime's have,

W/c: 16.0k

A/n: ahhhh here we are! i didn't expect the next part to take me this long- but i guess that's what happens when you try to go to a bts concert and go to college! this chapter is a bit heftier than usual! but that was because i couldn't shut up about tae (is anyone really suprised?) Please give me some love! The title of this chapter is Maraschino cherry

Previous part- Masterlist - First part

Hobi likes to pick the roses in the early morning, right as he has his first cup of coffee.

Someone else inside is getting you yours, or maybe you and Tae are changing for the pack's beach day. You both looked sleepy and draped all over each other when Hobi last saw you, trailing after Jin who was already griping about the UV index as Tae led you in the direction of the dressing room to pick out your bikini for the day.

His careful fingers are mindful of thorns as he snips them free of the bush. Noodle meows from around his ankles guarding the alpha’s coffee (and occasionally sneaking sips. Especially if Hobi's used half and half). His baby blue cup rests in the grass slightly overgrown because Hobi is ever mindful of the pollinators.

He has a few blooms in his hands, mainly the pink ones.

Hobi offers one to Noodle, crouching on creaky knees, letting the cat smell. Pushing his whiskers past the first row of petals. Purring loudly.  

“What do you say Nu? Should we head inside and see if the girls like them?”

The door creeks and Hobi's coffee cup dangles from one pinky, empty. Three brightly colored beach bags wait by the door almost stopping Hobi from being able to open it. They're already piled high with towels, chip bags, and enough sunscreen to cover a small parking lot. Your and Tae's dresses are draped over the back of the couch, colorful and long patchwork spilling half onto the floor. A river of multi-colored floral squares.

Hobi can be forgiven for not immediately realizing what he’s watching.

You’re up on the counter and the bikini you wear is small, a bit too small. The red string at the back is tied in a bow. One of Tae's hands tangles in it. Winding the red strand over her knuckles, back and forth between her fingers. Your bare back and your dimples are on display- distracting Hobi from what's going on at your front.

There’s just a lot of skin is all and not much clothes. Hobi can handle it. Like a gentleman. He restrains his imagination. Reminding himself that he's allowed to look, that he's not being creepy. But still- he's a little happy that Tae seems to be too busy whispering something to you from between your legs to notice Hobi's staring or else he'd surely surrender himself for a morning of teasing.

She's got one hand on your hip, digging into the alluring cleft where hip meets torso and the other at your front concealed by your bodies. Your scar shines silvery. Hobi hardly notices it.

You’d think he’d be used to it- you and Tae lounging around in little to nothing but you still take his breath away. Weather it's Tae's gauzy collection of night dresses, or your spread of mini sleep shorts- all of it tortures him (hobi is not alone in this, the rest of the pack commiserates on the daily about you and tae). But the mini bikini seems extra extra mini today. The thread-narrow straps and small red triangles do little to conceal your body and how it swells.

Your milk had tapered off after the first few weeks but the swelling has been slow to go. That coupled with a little bit of post-heat indulgence and doting has left your body round and supple in a way that the Alpha's just devour. Hobi knows you've complained more than once about the newfound back aches and he sympathizes he really does but-

But fuck.

You sort of look like something off the cover of one of those vintage Playboy magazines that Tae pretends she likes for 'aesthetic reasons'. Not that Hobi judges. Hobi understands why tae's a little obsessed with them. Your chest is sort of a wet dream.

The whole pack is alot obsessed with them.

Hobi thinks you're just kissing until You tip your head back and moan, and he almost trips over the corner of the carpet.

“Oh? You're-” Hobi's throat goes dry.

Tae picks her head up from where it was buried in your hair and laughs. Showing her canines, eyes bright and mischievous.

Her hand keeps moving between your thighs, when you try to close your legs, Tae's other hand grabs your knee, pushing them to stay open. She does it like she's hardly noticing you squirming away, hardly noticing your sudden shyness.

It's nothing Hobi hasn't seen before. This kind of thing is sort of routine for the pack (yesterday he found Jungkook and Yoongi fucking in the sunroom, and the morning before that hobi walked in on Jimin and namjoon having some sort of staring match as Jin showered both of them hard and pretending they weren't. And the day before that Tae had walked in on you and Hobi and Yoongi being…a little bit ridiculous on the front porch. Some all too public heavy petting that the pack alpha and pack omega would surely disapprove of.

It's not the first time hobi has kept your secrets.

The last time Hobi saw Tae finger you, you were at the kitchen table (three mornings ago) but Hobi can't say it's not a welcome surprise. Your squirming is all you can do to keep the pack's pawing at bay when you're like this.

Tae grins, Drinking in Hobi's blush like it's strawberry lemonade. She doesn’t slow her pace at all. Two fingers or three? Her hand works in between your tights as you sag against her front, boneless. Giving in to the fact that you have an audience and Tae doesn't have any plans of stopping. Her wrist crooks to find the angle that makes your toes curl and Hobi sees it on your face the moment she finds that little spot that makes you clench extra hard.

Upstairs, Jungkook laughs loudly. Someone or something crashes into a door or a wall hard enough to make the windows in the kitchen rattle. Probably Jimin and Jungkook chasing each other around, zoomies that are sure to get worse when you get to the beach.

“Guys” Jin’s stressed tone sounds from upstairs and Namjoon’s deep baritone says something in response. Too low to hear. Distracting the pack omega so that the pups can be pups.

Hobi smirks, kicking a hip up against the counter after refilling his coffee. Settling in to watch. The roses are forgotten about, discarded on the counter where they glimmer, going withy.

Hobi sips his coffee. Making eye contact with you over Tae's shoulder. And you blush furiously at the blatant way his eyes flicker from your face to your chest to between your legs.

"Do you-" you breathe heavily, cheek resting against Tae's arm, scrambling to paw at her hand when she crooks her fingers a little deeper, petting insistently in and in. Your bikini bottom is pushed to the side, leaving a little trickle of slick on the counter. The dewy and delicious parts of you are hardly hidden by Tae's wrist. A delighted growl-pur builds in hobi's chest at the sight.

"Do you have to watch?" Your voice goes breath as Tae changes the angle of her hand and you throw your head back, but Hobi doesn't even blink.

"I'm quite enjoying my view thank you very much." He teases.

Coming Saturday April 5th at 5pm EST (Time Zone Adjustments Below)

[alexanderlightweight]

Hi Lumine, hope your Wednesday's going well! My boy (greyhound) has been at the vet today for dental check-up (all clear!) and came back as high as a kite - I swear he is so out of it he forgot how to lay on his bed, just stood on top staring through me and the walls into space! If you feel like it, I'd love to see a similar situation with either Alec or Magnus on strong painkillers and the other bemused/amused by their reactions. SfW please.

omg your poor baby!!! I bet he gets hit pretty hard with how slender greyhounds are!! I love that even like that, they're kind of the same when the drugs finally hit.

Nightshade is built like a tank so we have to dose him extra and every time he just looks sadder the more he slips under like 'why would you give me MORE drugs? thinking is hard enough already!!! baba noooooooo.' he also gets the munchies. and while he can put himself in his crate when he's drugged he doesn't know how to get through the open door or he'll cry if his toy is too far away or i'm too far away. he's very pawthetic.

Magnus took a magic replenishing potion btw. he doesn't normally 'indulge' because it's more potent than drinking but he trusts Alec enough to let down his guard. he's not just trusting Alec to take care of him, he's also trusting his instincts and magic not to hurt Alec.

i hope you enjoy! the story about your baby was lovely and this prompt was a lot of fun!

<3 lumine

tw character on medication

-

subtle secrets of the heart

Despite Magnus’ lust for decadence, he never indulges himself to where he ends up like this.

That’s all Alec can really think of as he watches Magnus turn limp and languid and his golden, luminous eyes threaten to swallow Alec whole.

It’s understandable really.

Magnus being intoxicated — on a very specific potion because his alcohol tolerance is too high for even fae wine to work — is clearly dangerous.

Because Magnus hasn’t even asked for anything yet and Alec is dying to give him whatever he wants.

And also keep as close to him as possible because while Magnus is always warm, he’s molten like this and his body is a beacon to Alec’s senses.

It makes it all the more frustrating that right now, Alec can’t enjoy it because he is currently just trying to get Magnus to stop snapping things away.

Mainly because Alec isn’t sure that Magnus will remember where he sends anything while he’s like this and Alec really doesn’t want to have to explain to Idris that his primary and personal tablet was sent to the Bermuda Triangle.

“Please, Magnus—” he catches Magnus’ hand and kisses the blue sparks that have just started to form. “Nothing needs to be put away, just let it be a mess. For tonight?”

It takes a moment for Magnus to focus on him — he’s been currently getting rid of everything he looks at that he doesn’t like, which is apparently everything but the chair he’s flopped in and Alec.

And Alec breathes out a sigh of relief as his work bag is blessedly left alone.

Going to the roof doesn’t seem ideal with Magnus like this — too much wild energy and complicated magic and things that Magnus might dislike in this mood.

So to the bedroom it is.

That has the least objectionable amount of things in it, considering every little thing has been handpicked by Magnus or Alec or both.

“My strong, sturdy shadowhunter.” Magnus purrs out the words so strongly that Alec can barely understand him and he’s a little worried that Magnus is going to need some healing tea the next day.

“Yes Magnus, your shadowhunter.” Is all he really manages to get out because carrying Magnus is always lovely but it’s even more distracting with Magnus groping his muscles and ass and nuzzling as close as possible.

Alec might drop him if this keeps up.

Something that is too horrific to truly consider and Alec braces himself better and speeds up.

He is not dropping Magnus just because his husband is a little handsy at the moment.

That would be possibly the most embarrassing thing Alec could ever do and worse, Magnus probably wouldn’t even hold it against him.

Magnus takes care of Alec when he’s drunk, sleep-deprived, fucked-stupid and a plethora or other things and he hasn’t dropped him even once.

True, Magnus has magic but Alec is a shadowhunter so he feels like that isn’t probably the excuse he’d like it to be.

Pain blooms on his neck and as delightful as it is, he also almost knocks Magnus into the doorframe and it takes a moment of maneuvering before he has his deadweight, warlock of a husband and his very frisky magic into their room.

Alec is going to kindly request that Magnus never take this kind of potion again without them both properly preparing and being set up for this.  He knows he’s being dramatic, but the last thing Alec wants is Magnus to wake up sore and with bruises and then Alec having to explain that it’s not what he’s thinking. And that it’s because Alec couldn’t get Magnus from the living room to the bedroom safely... not because they fucked happily and merrily from the living room. 

Which they’ve done.

Multiple times.

With less injuries and bruises than are currently being stacked against him.

Considering all the times Magnus has whisked Alec away from battlefields and political landmines and family disputes and just general unpleasantness, Alec thinks he’s personally failed since he’s having trouble simply conquering two hallways and an open concept loft.

Magnus fingers cling to Alec’s skin as he wrestles him onto the bed — because Magnus like this is pliable only to a degree.

He lets Alec carry him and move him but the moment Alec tries to step away or even look away from Magnus, he’s being pulled back.

By magic that sparks and sweaty fingers that drag on his skin and catch on his clothes and eyes that sear through him to the bone.

“Let me get the lights.” Alec murmurs, because Magnus can’t be comfortable with the sun shining through the windows or the chandelier still lit up.

It’s a mistake to let Magnus know what is taking Alec’s attention because suddenly the room is dark.

Alec can no longer see even the shadows as everything is consumed by an abyssal darkness — everything but the twin rings of Magnus golden cat eyes.

Giving it up for a lost cause, Alec does his best to get into the bed without digging a knee into Magnus’ ribs or elbowing his face.  It works despite the fact that Magnus is fighting dirty and then Alec can finally curl up next to his husband and be the pillow Magnus wants him to be.

Magnus climbs atop him, ear to Alec’s heart and fingers possessive on Alec’s hip.

“You’re very adorable like this.” Alec murmurs quietly, fingers running through hair soft as silk, the magic that normally kept it coif melting under his touch. “But I already miss your voice.”

Magnus purrs at him, something deep and rumbling and it soothes the small ache of loneliness that Alec’s been feeling since Magnus took the potion.

[cinnbar-bun]

The Chain I

Relationship: Johnny Joestar x GN!Reader, minor Diego Brando x GN!Reader

Prompt: "Running in the shadows, damn your love, damn your lies / Break the silence, damn the dark, damn the light."

Summary: You've known each other for so long, ever since you were kids. But after he's become so unrecognizable, you have to wonder if being chained to him is worth it anymore.

Rating: SFW

Word Count: ~3.5k

Notes: Childhood friends to haters to lovers later, no spoilers for part 7, BUT mentions of death/spoilers of Johnny's backstory. Slight love triangle for this chapter, Johnny being a major douche, angry fight at the end, minor swearing. This chapter takes place pre-part 7.

Taglist (message me or fill out the form in the pinned to be added!): @gingernut1314 @adeadcreator @starr-l1ghtt

Read on my AO3 here!

A/n: I got nothing to say besties I love causing Johnny pain!!!!

“Nicholas, Johnny, remember that I have a guest coming over today. Can I ask that both of you remain on your best behavior?” George said sternly, a subtle warning that if the two acted up, there would be consequences to pay for it. The two boys agreed, back straight as they awaited the ‘guest’.

George exhaled and uncrossed his arms. “You two will not need to be in the study when they come by. My friend has a young child, around your age, Johnny. I expect that you two will treat them properly.” 

George didn’t wait for a response, walking away to prepare himself. Nicholas and Johnny glanced at each other, wide, eager smiles on their face as they thought about who they’d see. 

When the ‘guests’ finally arrived, Johnny momentarily forgot his manners, ignoring the man and instead glancing for the child George talked about. When his blue eyes landed on yours, something within him stirred, as if he was magnetized to you. 

He ran to you, grabbing your hands in his, and gave a toothy grin. “I’m Johnny! What’s your name?” 

Johnny could never explain why he was so drawn to you. You, likewise, never stood a chance against a fate when it came to Johnny. You two were practically attached at the hip, almost never seen without the other. 

Johnny (but mostly Nicholas) was the one who taught you how to secretly ride a horse whenever you visited the estate. You taught Johnny different plants he should avoid and what was edible after he had a mishap with poison ivy. Johnny liked getting lost in the forest with you. You liked staying up at night and pointing out different constellations with him from your book. 

“That’s a shooting star!” Johnny yelled, shooting upright and pressing his finger against the glass window. 

“What? Really?” You squinted. 

“Yeah, but you missed it, slowpoke,” he rolled his eyes as he flicked your forehead. 

“I’m not slow…” 

“And yet you’re always last when it comes to racing,” Johnny smugly pronounced. “What are we at? 1000 - 0?” 

“Ugh, you’re a jerk,” you huffed. “Now, you saw a shooting star. You gotta make a wish.” 

“Oh, right,” he said as he turned around to the face the night sky. He closed his eyes, exhaled, and clasped his hands together. “Okay, did it. I wished we’d be friends forever.” 

“Johnny!” You shouted. “You can’t tell me that, now it won’t come true!” 

“Don’t tell me you believe that old thing,” he snorted. “Come on, you know it’s not true.” 

“But what if it is? Now we might not be friends.” 

Johnny glanced back at you and sighed before he took his seat back on his bed next to you. “Nah. I know we will be friends forever. Even my dad thinks you’re part of the family now.”

“But how do we really know?” You asked anxiously. Johnny tapped his chin and shrugged. 

“Guess we don’t. But I’m not gonna believe a dumb superstition. We’re a team, right?” He insisted, putting his pinkie out to you. You felt yourself ease up at his confidence and wrapped your pinkie around his. 

“Yeah, a team.” He smiled proudly at your words. 

He had no reason in his mind to think of anything else. The four years you two had known each other had to have solidified your bond for life. His luck may have been strange, but you were a constant in his life. That wasn’t changing anytime soon.

You both should have known it was the beginning of end. At the age of 9, you and Johnny stood by Nicholas’s coffin. Johnny had clung to you, sobbing that it was all his fault, that he was the reason Nicholas died. If only he had just drowned Danny like George asked, if only he just listened, then Nicholas would still be there. 

He was fundamentally changed by Nicholas’s death. Why wouldn’t he be? That was his dear brother. You had grown to see Nicholas as an older brother as well, the type of good-natured sibling who made sure you and Johnny were happy. But Johnny was not Nicholas. 

You knew that. Johnny knew that. Most of all, George knew that. 

But Johnny kept continuing to go back on his horse, insisting he was fine, demanding you stop asking how he was. He was good. He would race. He would make George proud. He would honor Nicholas through his racing.

Johnny devoted so much time to racing, as if his life depended on it. Perhaps it did, in his mind, but you were still there, watching. You would read quietly by the small bench as Johnny lectured his horse for not jumping as high over the hurdle today. You would do your schoolwork while Johnny timed himself again and again, practicing lap after lap. Sometimes, Diego Brando would come to you and start a conversation with you. 

Johnny wouldn’t pay attention, too busy fixing the reins of his horse to care. And you, who really didn’t have much else besides him, hated seeing your best friend so hurt. So you would wait, as usual. 

“Do you think I’ll be able to make my dad proud?” Johnny mulls one evening as you both drink on the hill you two frequented as kids.

“I think you will,” you begin. “I think he’s proud of you now.” 

“That’s a damn lie and you know it.” 

You pursed your lips and took another sip. “I’m sorry.” 

“Yeah. So am I.” 

It only seemed to get worse from there. Johnny would make time for you infrequently, still trying to keep up the idea of you being his ‘best friend’ to those around him. You didn’t know which you’d rather deal with at this point; his total silence towards you while hordes of girls and celebrities flocked to him, or his half-hearted attempt at clinging to the friendship you two had. Both killed you inside, and despite knowing deep down that you should cut your losses, you still stuck around. 

You stuck around when he asked for you to cover for him while he was out drinking with some friends. You stuck around when he made you do the group project by yourself because some rich governor wanted to meet him later. You stuck around when he didn’t say a word as a ‘friend’ of his made fun of you for being so clingy towards Johnny like a lost puppy. 

You knew you shouldn’t have stuck around for that. You knew you deserved better. 

But that stupid, stupid part of you that yearned for Johnny to just treat you like he did before always won out over logic. That ridiculous voice inside you said that being hurt by Johnny was better than no Johnny at all. Because Johnny was your best friend, your first friend. 

Johnny was a lot of your firsts, in fact. He was not only your first friend, but the one who first taught you to ride a horse, the one you first slept over with, the one you did your first trip with, and your first kiss when you two tried to copy what you saw a couple do as kids. Scarily enough, he was not only those things, but he was also your first love. You stupidly fell in love with your childhood best friend. Like a damn cliche, you fell for him, never recognizing that the warmth you felt for him went just beyond friends. 

But it was too late to even confess this, as he had already was on his third girlfriend of the month, never sparing you a glance beyond a ‘thanks’ for doing his work. You would be foolish enough to try, but naive you that wished for everything under the sun for just a chance with Johnny still stayed. Maybe one day he’d wake up and recognize the people that encircled him after his race didn’t care. Maybe one day he’d notice that you were still there, cheering him on for his races, even as he came in second almost every time. Maybe, maybe, maybe, that foolish wish he made under the star would come true and you’d stay friends forever. 

Like always, you sat on the bench by the training grounds of the estate, reading for the upcoming test you would have soon, that Johnny would likely want you to summarize for him and his buddies. You heard footsteps approaching, but didn’t stop reading. 

“Johnny, what do you-” 

“Me? Johnny? Please. I thought you’d know better than that by now to compare me to him,” a smug voice reproached you. You looked up in confusion before noticing the cocky stature of none other than Diego Brando. 

“Oh… Diego. Do you want me to leave?” You asked, beginning to pack up your things. Diego only ever made casual conversation with you after all these years, so you had no clue why he was walking up to you so suddenly. 

“Hm, no. I just couldn’t help but notice that Joestar boy left you alone again.” 

You rolled your eyes as Diego taunted you. “If that’s all you came here to tell me, you can leave. I don’t need to hear that from you.” 

“So sensitive. You’re beginning to resemble a cornered dog.” 

“Diego, enough. Seriously. Just leave me alone if you have nothing nice to say,” you glared. 

“If that’s what you wish. I was going to offer you a chance to go for a ride with me, but if I am so horrible that you don’t even wish to talk to me, then I’ll be on my merry way. Goodbye, maybe that Joestar will throw you a bone one day,” Diego sneered as he turned around and waved his hand. 

“Huh? Wait!” You shot up and followed after him. “Why are you offering that to me?” 

“Must I explain it to you?” “I would like you to.” 

“Hah. No,” he deadpanned. “And look at you, already following after me. It seems you can’t help but listen to those more powerful than you.” 

“I’m not doing it because-” 

“I don’t really care,” Diego replied, throwing on the saddle for his horse and fitting it properly. “Would you like to come, or not?” 

Johnny despised Diego more than anything. He’d be furious if he knew you were even talking to him. Diego sensed your hesitation, sighing dramatically and extending his hand to you. “If you want to go waiting around like a lost sheep for that boy, by all means, go ahead. I’m offering you a horseback ride, not a marriage proposal.” 

Within an instant, you threw your reservations away and gripped his hand, letting him help you onto the saddle. He was right. Johnny was busy elsewhere and this was just a simple ride around the estate. Why should you care what Johnny thought now? 

Diego snorted in amusement as your brows furrowed, but didn’t make another comment, instead, snapping the reins of the horse against it, causing the horse to begin galloping. 

For the first time in a while, you had an enjoyable evening. You simply basked in the wind as Diego expertly maneuvered the horse around. It didn’t take much before you two began talking to each other, pleasantly surprised by how Diego was talking to you when Johnny was not around. It was like seeing a whole new side to the genius jockey that he rarely ever showed before. 

Soon, though, he took the horse back to the stable and promptly helped you off. You were about to collect your bearings and go when he spoke once more to you as he was rummaging through a box of supplies for tending to his horse. 

“You should really stand up for yourself for once.” 

“Huh?” 

“You heard me. Are you really going to let that boy trample you all over every day? Come on. It’s pathetic to witness. Even I felt bad seeing you like that,” he replied in an even tone. While his words were harsh, it lacked his usual mocking tone. 

“I don’t need your pity, Diego,” you stiffened, knowing he had a point. 

“I know you don’t need it. What you really need is a spine. Too bad all the money in the world can’t afford you that,” he commented. “Oh well. It’s not my place. But if you get tired of being that boy’s little mule, you can come to me. I’d be happy to have you as a cheerleader for me.” 

He looked you in the eyes this time. Instead of a haughty, egotistical smirk, it was a frank smile. You were taken aback by his casual friendliness and nodded. 

“Thank you. And thank you again for the ride. I needed it.” 

“Hmph. Don’t go around telling others that, though. Lord knows I don’t need more tabloids on my ass over this.” 

“I won’t. It’ll be our secret,” you said as you began to walk back to your original spot at the bench with a more relaxed stance. For once, there wasn’t a heavy pit in your stomach that threatened to consume you, but a gentle warmth that slowly blossomed there. 

That warmth didn’t last long when a few days after, Johnny and Diego were set to compete in another race. Of course you were going, that was always a given, and like always, Johnny gave you a ticket to let you in. Even if he was never around much, he left you the tickets in your bag, almost as if it was just expected of you. Perhaps it was, at this rate. You’ve been doing this for almost five years now. 

You sat in the bleachers next to a few other familiar faces- mostly the elite who came to socialize or discuss some business and gamble, or younger people who came to try and entice the racers into giving them more attention. You were to offer moral support and comfort Johnny when he’d get frustrated for being silver. 

It was a while before Johnny was set to race, but when he did, the crowd whispered in hushed tones if he would finally surpass Diego today. Some had bet on him, while others kept to their trusty pick of Diego. The gunshot went off, and the horses sprinted. It was close. So, so close. Johnny was more determined than ever to win this race, and it showed in the near sliver of space between him and Diego. 

Come on, Johnny, come on!

You held your breath, but as it was for so long, close was not close enough. Diego had won, but only by a measly half a second. Your heart dropped as Johnny grimaced and hurried his horse back to the stable. Silver was not good enough. Silver would never make George look at him. Not while Diego was winning race after race, surrounded in heaps of gold. 

You stood up to go meet with Johnny, hurriedly wanting to comfort him and offer more words of encouragement that would probably amount to nothing. Because nothing was enough, not until he won. Just as you were in the stables and looking for Johnny, someone clearing their throat beside you caught your attention. You turned around and saw Diego, that smug look on his face again as he held a gold trophy. 

“Not even a congratulations?” He joked. 

“Oh, sorry. Congrats, Diego. You did wonderful out there, today,” you complimented him. Even if Johnny was your friend, Diego was clearly a special prodigy at horseriding. It was no wonder he was called the ‘genius jockey’ all throughout America and Europe. You were about to continue when he grabbed your wrist. 

“That eager to see Joestar? I’m sure he can wait. I wanted to ask you something,” Diego began. 

“Hm? Go ahead.” 

“They’re organizing a party for my win soon. Tomorrow night, actually. I’m allowed one guest. Perhaps you’re interested in ditching Joestar for the evening and coming with me?” You gasped and felt your face heat up. 

“Diego, I-” 

“Are you kidding me?!” A voice yelled. You jumped at the tone but knew instantly who it was. Diego snorted and placed a hand on his hips. 

“Well now. Can’t you see we’re in the middle of something, Joestar?” Diego snapped. 

“Back the hell off, Brando, I don’t wanna deal with your shit right now,” Johnny venomously spouted. He stomped over and stood between you and Diego. “Is that what you’ve been doing? Huh?” 

“What? Johnny, what are you talking about?” You replied, confused at why he was suddenly aiming his vitriol at you. 

“You know damn well what I’m talking about! I invited you here, and now you’re planning trysts with this asshole?” 

“I didn’t even-” 

“What kind of friend are you?! You know how much I hate him! Why are you going to see him behind my back?” 

Your blood began boiling at all these accusations. You clenched your fists and jaw, trying to control yourself. “I didn’t do anything behind your back. Diego just asked me a question.” 

“Please, Diego never justs ‘asks’ questions. And don’t lie to me. I saw what you two did the other day!” 

“So what? It was just a little ride! It’s not like we did anything!” 

“So you admit you’ve been seeing him!” Johnny pointed a finger at you. Diego made his presence known again and stepped closer. 

“What, jealous, Joestar? That your ‘best friend’ finally opened their eyes and prefers me over your lousy company?” 

“Yeah, right. I don’t give a crap about you, Brando!” Diego didn’t respond, instead spitting at the floor near Johnny’s decaying shoes. 

“You talk big for second place. A second-rate jockey like you should know better than to try and insult me after that piss-poor performance you gave today.” 

“You damn-” Johnny nearly launched at Diego before you held him back. “What the hell? Let go of me!” 

“Johnny, seriously? You can’t go attacking people!” You lectured. 

“Why the hell are you defending him? Huh? You like him that much?” 

“It’s not about liking, Johnny, it’s just-” 

“Just what? Think you can suddenly do better than me? You ain’t that special!” Johnny screamed at the top of his lungs. Time froze as you saw Johnny’s eyes widen in horror at what he just told. Even Diego was taken aback for a moment before you let go of Johnny and swiftly smacked him across the face. 

“Screw you! You’re horrible!” You trembled, the years of anger and humiliation now getting to you. Johnny held his cheek with his hand as you unleashed everything you felt inside. “How can you tell me I’m a bad friend when you never acted like a friend in years?! How can you get mad at me when I wait around for you, when I embarrass myself daily thinking one day you’ll treat me like an actual person and not a damn dog?!” 

“I didn’t mean to-” 

“I don’t wanna hear it from you, Johnny! I should’ve done this earlier! I should’ve stopped hanging around and wishing for you to grow up! Because you never will! You’re an even bigger asshole than anyone else I’ve ever met! All you do is think you’re hot shit, when really, you’re just an insecure little brat!” 

Johnny’s face furrowed as his ego felt more bruised than before. “Really? If you think I’m such an asshole, then why don’t you just go?” 

“I will! I don’t wanna see you ever again!” 

“Oh yeah? See if you’ll get anywhere without me being the one to prop your name up! See if you’ll be anyone if I didn’t give you some attention!” 

“I hate you, Johnny! I wish we never even met!” Your voice echoed in the stables. Johnny’s hands shook in anger as he gripped the second place trophy tight. You were breathing raggedly, but all Johnny could see was Diego smirking at him, as if taunting him. Rubbing it in his face that he caused this, that your frustration was all his doing. 

In a fit of rage and guilt, Johnny flung the trophy at Diego, only barely missing the English jockey. He didn’t bother to stay in the stables any longer, instead walking away from you for good. 

“Yeah, well, have fun with him then. Go suck up to him as much as you can, because when I win, I’m not gonna let you come back,” Johnny bitterly stated, ripping off the gold pin you got him so many years ago as a good luck charm and tossing it to the dirt. 

“I’d never want you back anyways,” you spat, solidifying ten years of friendship coming to an end, never to be seen as anything more than a bad memory.

[katyawriteswhump]

mommy's girl

For @stevieweek day 4 (sorry I’m late!) Special Outfit and extra prompts, Scoops/uniform, lingerie & @steddiemicrofic July prompt, ‘one’.  Rating: M WC 1,111 words. CW: None.

Tags: trans-fem Stevie Harrington, steddie, no upside down au, angst and feels, platonic stobin, steve has an awesome mom and not-so-awesome dad (also, faintly based on some RL experiences belonging to my other half... used with permission and love ;)) All my ST fic on AO3

Summary: Stevie makes a new beginning, and it’s all super-overwhelming…

…

Stevie was fumbling in her purse for her car-keys. Her mom hurried from the porch with yesterday’s mascara bleeding from her eyes and her hair tumbling from its pins:

“Stevie! You forgot your name-badge.”

“Gotta love company policy,” griped Stevie. At least the dumb thing now said ‘Stevie.’ Her mom pinned it on her Scoops uniform above her padded bra—part of a slinky set Eddie gifted her last time he came home from tour. Eddie was next due back today, which was something to look forward to after the previous night’s trauma.

“You gonna be okay, mom?” asked Stevie. “If you need me, I’ll call in sick.”

“No. This is day one of the rest of our lives. Your father’s finally gone for good. I need to start untangling our affairs.”

“And I finally get to go to work in a miniskirt.” Stevie glanced at her thigh-kissing skirt. She loved it, but… Shit, too much was happening.

His mom had booted her father out for a billion reasons. However, his constant gaslighting of Stevie being Stevie—and her dating ‘that lowlife Munson punk’—had sparked last night’s apocalyptic standoff. “Look, I’m sorry it was me that—”

“Don’t you dare apologise.” Her mom placed her hands on Stevie’s shoulders. “I’m so proud of you, darling. You got a job you enjoy, a boyfriend who adores you, and you always look a billion dollars.”

“In this shitty uniform?”

“Even in that.”

“Still not wearing the lousy hat.”

Breaking the news about her father to Robin meant Scoops opened half an hour late. Then, when Stevie leaned down to pull up the shutter, Robin yelled: “Screw you, Shit-bird, that skirt looks too good, and your ass looks too pretty, and I despise you.”

“You wear a skirt then. You could start a douchey scoreboard for who gets more creepy stares.”

“You know I hate skirts.”

“Quit whining then.”

Bantering with Robin couldn’t distract Stevie from her tiredness and nerves. When her mind started screaming, she focussed on the cling of her skirt, the glide of the silk panties beneath. Eddie would be here soon. Eddie would go crazy for her…

Robin took the phone message. Eddie’s flight was cancelled. He wouldn’t be home till tomorrow.

Dammit, Stevie needed him now.

She was wiping down a table, when she heard a snicker. A devastating mean-girl stare slammed into her.

Right at crotch level.

Stevie glanced down. 

Oh. Shit.

Robin found her at the back of the store, slumped forward on the table, face pillowed in her arms. “Stevie? You okay?”

“No.” Stevie jumped up and pointed to the middle-front of her skirt. At the bulge. “Look.”

“Huh?”

 “You see? It’s Mr… Miss Pokey.” 

Robin shrugged. “Only if you squint.”

Stevie swiped her lank-feeling hair from her face. Her hands trembled. “I’ve not even gotten an erection or anything. Everyone’s staring.”

“They’re not.”

“They are! I loved these panties, but the silk triangle at the front bunches everything forward and…” Suddenly, it was all super-overwhelming. What the heck was she… HE… doing? He’d wrecked his parents’ marriage. Eddie was probably lying about the flight to avoid him. “Jesus, I look horrible. I’ll put the shorts back on.”

“Don’t you dare.” Robin shoved a banana across the table. “Eat that. You’re cranky when you’re hungry.”

“It doesn’t solve—”

“No, it doesn’t. I have an idea what will.”

…

“It’s too weird not having to shit myself about your Pa taking pot-shots at me,” said Eddie, when Stevie led him into her bedroom. It was stacked with boxes—her mom had already got the decorators in. “Got you a lil’ something, Babe.”

Eddie presented a crepe-paper parcel. Stevie smiled tightly and sat on the bed to unwrap. It was gonna be more underwear, but her confidence was so shattered that…

She held up the swathe of peachy cotton and white lace. “You got me granny pants?”

Eddie beamed and Stevie couldn’t help giggling.

“Jesus, did Robin call you? Or my mom?”

She stripped off and pulled them on, loving how Eddie lapped her up with his thirsty gaze. Stevie couldn’t keep her own eyes from the mirror. The panties pressed her in slightly in the front, perfect for a mini-skirt or figure-hugging dress. Eddie swept her hair from where it dusted her shoulders and hooked her matching bra. He trailed kisses down the sweep of her neck, each sending a delicious shimmer down her spine, then twirled her around.

“I love them, Eddie.”

“Me too, honey. You look amazing. I could’ve got ones that pad at the hips but with your teeny waist…” He traced it lightly. She shivered with pleasure. “Nah, don’t need it.”

“Can’t believe I’m feeling hot in big panties.” She leaned back into his embrace, dizzied by the weird relief of the moment. It was no way as epic as her father having finally gone, but… 

“Shall I order a dozen, Stevie?”

“Hell, yeah.”

They both tumbled sideways onto her bed. “Cool, Babe. Let’s get you outta them.”

They took it slow, kissing till he was wearing her lipstick. Then he set her squirming, her fists clenching his hair, as he nibbled around the cute lace at the trim of her panties, before slipping his fingertips teasingly beneath. Slowly, he peeled her free. Stevie hadn’t waxed today, but that was fine, because hairy was what she was sometimes, and Eddie, as he whispered again and again, worshipped her every way she was.

They made love, fixing deep in each other’s eyes. Stevie’s panties looped her thigh like a slinky garter.

…

It was a week later when Stevie, for the first time since her father left, found her mom crying. She was hanging out the washing on the line.

“Mom, what is it?”  She hurried over, and yes, her mom’s eyes were teary. And she was laughing. “Mom?”

Her mom reached up and brushed knuckles down Stevie’s cheek. “Don’t worry about me, darling. I’m happy.” She nodded at Stevie’s new panties. “They remind me of my gym kit. You know, the good old cheerleading days. Never marry a Jock, darling.”

“Wasn’t on planning on it.”

“Eddie really is the one, isn’t he?”

Stevie’s heart panged with happiness and sadness at once. “Still time for you to find your one and only, mom.”

They pegged the rest of the washing up together: “Gotta ask, mom—did you want a daughter?”

“I only ever wanted you, Stevie,” she said, then, slightly crossly: “But if your long-haired lover’s late for family dinner again, I’ll kick his ass back on tour.”

“Mom!” Stevie pitched a sock, which her mom neatly caught. “Don’t be mean.”

They were both laughing. Life felt pretty good.

[scarecrowsandcherryblossoms]

And the prompts for KakaSaku Week 2024: Falling For You are live! Come explore our favorite couple in different seasons of love. Each day has two prompts to choose from to go along with the theme for the day, taken from unused trope of the month prompts suggested by the lovely members of our discord and other suggestions from the mods.

Feel free to fulfill one or both of each day's prompts. Fics, art, moodboards, songs, we want to see them all! (It's understood that some of these may require a little more explanation, so see below the cut for details.)

Have questions? Want to brainstorm with others? Need to gush about KakaSaku in general? Send us an ask.... or come join our Discord! We're open for ONE WEEK starting today, ending next Saturday (9/07), approximately 10 AM EST.

CLICK HERE TO JOIN THE SCARECROWS AND CHERRY BLOSSOMS DISCORD!

Falling For You Prompts (November 10-16, 2024)

Day 1-Slowly, Then All At Once

(Think about how a leaf falls from a tree, slowly, then quickly once it touches the ground. Kinda like a good slow burn romance that hits you with the feels once the characters realize that oh—they're in love)

🌸Fake Dating

🐺Gods and Mortals

Day 2-Forbidden Love

(Give me your best Montagues vs Capulets, enemies to lovers, Twilight, power imbalance dynamic, star crossed lovers etc. scenarios you can think of!)

🌸 Forced Proximity

🐺 Secrets

Day 3-Unrequited

(The angst, the heartbreak, the crying that happens in the midnight hours when one has an unrequited love. Sometimes it's not as unrequited as one thinks, but who's to say we'll ever know? 👀)

🌸 Blind Date

🐺 "oh my god they were roommates"

Day 4-It's Always Been You

(There better be so much pining a forest has sprouts in the background of the love story shown. Is the pining mutual but of course they don't know it? One sided?)

🌸 Hanahaki Disease

🐺 Firsts

Day 5-Accidentally In Love

(Think Shrek. Someone you're not supposed to fall in love with, or they were never supposed to be on your radar to begin with. Marriages/relationships of convenience, if we're not married by 35 let's marry each other! type situations.)

🌸 Fears

🐺 Love Letters

Day 6-Second Chances

(What if Kakashi and Sakura were exes? How do they get their second chance romance? Or they were almost lovers but circumstances ripped them apart and now here they are with another chance?)

🌸 Biggest Fan

🐺 Love Triangle

Day 7-5+1

(Remember all those fics about the five times a character did something or didn't do something and then the one time they did? Yeah? Well this is that. ie the fives times they almost kissed and the one time they did, or the five times they lied and the one time they didn't, etc. The possibilities are endless!)

🌸 Gift

🐺 There was only one bed

[dayseternal-blog]

Hello! I just wanted to thank you for the amazing recommendations categorized so well. They really helped me go through most of the really good ones as a newer NaruHina shipper.

I was wondering if you have any recommendations for a love triangle between Naruto, Hinata and Sasuke. Or ones where Sasuke and Hinata are friends too.

Thank you so much for your blog!

I'm glad you made use of my lists!! Here are a few NaruHina fics with Sasuke on the side that I haven't recommended before:

"Pining Heart" by mythicalheartbeat - Rated G, Canon-Divergent, One-shot. She was the one girl who never seemed to fall over him, the one who didn't seem to care. The one he couldn't forget.

"the best man" by anonymous - Rated T, Modern AU, Multi-Chapter, Complete. naruto is the best man for his best friend's wedding. that wouldn't be a problem if it wasn't for the fact that he's in love with the bride to be.

"The Love We Keep to Have" by Rasengone - Rated E, Modern AU, Multi-Chapter, Incomplete. He want to go see his best friend for usual hangout because it's been a while. He didn't expect to meet the wife who needs some comfort. The woman who he fell in love with since the first time they met until now and he never stops loving her.

In these next ones, Sasuke is good friends with Hinata.

"20th Year" by TINA18 - Rated E, Royalty AU, Multi-chapter, Complete. The life of royalty for three best friends in neighboring kingdoms was something none of them would change about their lives. They had been together since birth and loved their close-knit friendship, but things changed the year of their 20th birthdays – the year they became eligible to get married.

"Girls Need Swords to Play" by @happyocelot - Rated T, Canon-Divergent, One-shot. Naruto decides that Sasuke needs to make more friends, find more precious people...by devouring a million bowls of ramen with them. All of them...even Lee. Sasuke wants to be left alone. And Hinata gets a dangerous new hobby.

"Master Servant AU" from "Tales of Two Ninjas" by @magmawrites - Rated M, Canon-Divergent, One-shot. Some relationships are forbidden but there are no rules when it comes to love.

Here's my list from the last time someone requested something like this...

NaruHina with Poor Pining Sasuke AU

“Chapter 39” from “Between the Trees” by @utsus - Rated T, Canon-Divergent AU, One-shot. Prompt: Would you write sasuke being jealous with naruhina or naruto being wary of sasuke/sasuhina?

“Chapter 32” from “Between the Trees” by utsus - Rated T, Canon-Divergent AU, One-shot. NaruHina Prompt: (because it was hot as heck here today) how about NaruHina and bathing suits.<3

“Echoes of Silence” by @ellaroundpanda - Modern AU, Multi-chapter, Ongoing. Hinata Hyuga was trapped. Her relationship with Toneri was leading to nowhere and she wanted to find a new Dom. Naruto Uzumaki seemed to be the answer to all her prayers, but her fiancé wouldn’t give up that easily…

The following three are more like….idk, crazy possessiveness.

“The Way of the Geisha” by chancewriter - Rated M, Canon-Divergent AU, Multi-chapter, Complete. When Hinata was kidnapped by Kumo, Hiashi could not save her and everyone thinks she died. She ends up in a very different life from the ninja she was supposed to be, but her ninja life is never far behind her.

“Road to Redemption” by averagejane497 - Rated T, Canon-Divergent, Multi-chapter, Complete. Naruto’s made a lot of mistakes in his life, especially concerning the women he loves. Maybe this time he can get it right.

“I want you to cry” by Devahhole - Rated E for graphic murder, dub-con/non-con, and smut, High School AU, Multi-chapter, Ongoing. A sociopath blinded by revenge runs into his greatest opponent.

The next two are….hmmm…not exactly a crush…more like lusting…..well, you’ll see.

“Secrets of the Hidden Leaf” by @sessakag - Rated E for a ton of different kinks, Canon-Divergent AU, Multi-chapter, Incomplete. Naruto and Hinata push the boundaries of propriety and decency in a budding relationship of profound love and wild, sexual exploration. This will be NaruHinaSasu eventually.

“The Legend of Yukari” by Gekiai - Rated E (also hints at SasuHina & ItaHina pairings, so definitely not for everyone), Modern AU, Multi-chapter, Incomplete. Three men plague the life of Hinata Hyuga, also known as Yukari. It all sounds like a love story any girl would want except Hinata is an adult video star with no plans of retiring anytime soon.

Anyone can add on!

[finniestoncrane]

🩷 Connie (OC) x Riddler x Boomerang, multi-part fic 🩷 constance dorothea drum (connie/conundrum) is my sorta self-insert OC who i like to put into situations!! i'm finally getting around to writing out her backstory and her love triangle and it is filled with fluff and angst and good old smut based in the arkham!verse in terms of character/place design, but divergent as far as the timeline goes fic masterlist �� AO3 link • tag: auc fic • plushie doodles by @/march-harrigan

💚 Chapter 2: Perfect Timing, word count: 2.8k 💚 10 years ago: connie and harley spend an agonising day in the library trying to solve connie's thesis problems. luckily, she comes up with the perfect topic, one that ends up grabbing her attention in more ways than one. request info • prompt list • send me a request • kofi • masterlist minors DNI!! 🔞 cw: we finally see how mentally ill connie is for eddie, even at these early stages of her career, and there's a bit more harley and connie friendship to absorb because they're cute ok

“I’m really cutting it close now, Harley. My meeting with the advisor is in ten minutes, and if I don’t take an actual concrete idea to my supervisor today, then I might as well drop out now.”

Of course, Connie could be as vocal about how stressed she was all that she wanted, but she was also very aware that it was her own fault for leaving things so late. She was one for getting distracted, unable to start things, unable to keep her mind focused on one train of thought. Undiagnosed ADHD, that’s what Harley had said while she was practising her clinical work on her, although how much of that was truthful could be argued, given Harley was studying psychology and not psychiatry. Whatever was wrong with her, though, she had to try and overcome it or all of her years of study so far at Gotham State would all be for nothing. 

“Bubby, I don’t know what you want me to say. We’ve been trying to come up with a topic for your thesis for… years now. Literally years. You just gotta pick one from the pile of rejects and go with it, that’s what I think!”

“But I want to believe in my idea! I want it to be something I can write about confidently, passionately. I want a good grade.”

Harley tossed the book she was absent-mindedly reading to the ground, kicking her legs up on the table and leaning back with a sigh that turned into a groan before she spoke.

“What does it matter anyway, really? All of this studying? I mean, have you ever thought about how many criminals lately have doctorate degrees? Real life actual doctors, people who studied their tight little asses off like you’re trying to right now, driven eventually to a life of crime. Good grade or not, if you really think about it, we’re just here studying to end up as Batman and the GCPDs punching bags.”

“Huh… you’re right…”

“I am!?” Harley sat up straight like a dog hearing their favourite word, grinning wide at Connie’s agreement. “So does that mean we can blow this dump and go to the pier?”

With an expression of disappointment, Connie raised her eyebrows, exasperatedly dropping her hands to the table as she renewed her patience for Harley before bursting her bubble.

“No. I mean that you’re right about the doctorates. The list must be pretty long. Let me think… you’ve got… Oh, Freeze, he was a doctor, wasn’t he?”

“Oh yeah, he was a babe, too.”

“Another one… Langstrom!”

“Babe.”

“Sartorius.”

“Babe.”

“Hellfern!”

“Spooky babe!”

“And Isley, of course.”

“ Super babe.”

“All of them, intelligent people with ambitions and passion, driven to criminality because of… what? There must be some relation to super intelligence, a correlation between super intellect and… maybe a lack of stimulation? Or perhaps they have a greater understanding of the unfairness of society? A clinical mind that can compartmentalise morals in the name of the greater good of humanity of science? Looking for an outlet of their genius? And just a little sprinkling of autism?”

“Well, you would be the expert there.”

“I would… But I’m still not sure what it is that definitively pushes them…”

“Maybe you find out when you study it for your thesis then? You ask the question, you find some evidence. Sounds like as good an idea as any of the others we’ve talked and talked and talked and talked about.”

“Hmm… Yeah, I think I like it!”

“So now can we get out of here? I hate the library. It’s too quiet! Which really tests my need for chaos .”

“It’s not exactly quiet when you’re in here.” Connie shoved Harley’s arm playfully, watching as she very intentionally, and very dramatically, fell to the ground with a ridiculous groan. “Ok, ok, I have my meeting in five minutes and then once I’m done we can leave. Wish me luck!”

Harley offered a smile and a salute, her way of sending positive vibes to Connie as she left for her meeting, but she really didn’t need any luck or good will at all. When she posed the question to her advisor, he had smiled knowingly, satisfied with the proposal and definitely intrigued by it. And that was despite her unprepared stammering and lack of any preliminary research to accompany it. She assumed the enthusiasm would bode well for her once she actually got to the meat of the project. 

“There’s just one thing, though…” he had said, smoothing his fingers over the stubble on his chin, a self-satisfactory move from the proclaimed intellectual, who Connie hoped would soon enter his own criminal phase and be swiftly beaten to a bloody pulp. “Do you intend to only focus on those with doctorates? Or would you be interested in intelligence which hasn’t been professionally recognised, so to speak?”

Connie tilted her head slightly, trying to understand the question.

“Do you mean like… Emotional or social intelligence? Like how Roman Sionis seems to be able to charm or threaten his way out of, well, literally everything and anything?”

“No, no. God no. We’d be here forever discussing that kind of thing. I mean, every criminal must have an ounce of charisma or muscle to back up their actions. No, I mean those who might not necessarily have a professional title, or even a formal education, but who still exhibit, or present themselves as having, the same level of intelligence as your aforementioned doctorates. Perhaps there might be some who are even smarter?”

“Like?”

“Well, I’m thinking of people like Jervis Tetch, the Mad Hatter as he was perhaps better known. Incredibly intelligent man, talented in so many different skills, but not necessarily renowned for his intellect, and I’m sure he will have a degree, but not necessarily an academic ranking.”

“Hm, interesting.”

“Or take, for instance, Garfield Lynns. Are you familiar?”

“That’s Firefly, no?”

“Indeed. He worked with highly dangerous chemicals for a living, and for fun. Pyrotechnic work, bombs, explosives. Jobs which require an advanced degree of training and study and knowledge, but don't necessarily need a doctorate. And his engineering skills were admirable too, even if they were being put towards his criminal activities.”

“Oh! Or Bane!”

“Precisely! His work with chemicals and the study of his own sickness and addiction are fascinating on their own, even putting aside the fact that he had no formal teaching during his upbringing in prison. I’d kill to take a look at his research. Someone like him would make an excellent case study! That’s what I’m talking about, people like that. There’s always a modicum of intelligence behind being a successful criminal. The stupider ones get caught far too quickly. To last a while, to be a pain to the criminal justice system, you have to be able to outsmart it.”

Connie nodded, her eyes wide with excitement as she felt the inspiration flowing through her, her advisor continuing to lecture on the point which he wished he was making under his own name. 

“Of course, bring up the doctorates too. Bring up as many examples as you can. But I would advise you to have one star of the show, as it were. Just something to focus the research on. An example that can relate to all the examples. Got it?”

Connie left the room feeling lighter than she had in months. Although the last thing her advisor had said did cling to her chest, a little nugget of anxiety in itself. Sure, she had the plan, but now she needed a star to pull everything together. Someone to focus on, someone interesting, appealing, intelligent and an example of criminality. Someone, preferably, without a professional title since that felt like an interesting angle to her. As she pondered, deep in thought, she could make out Harley ahead of her. She was face down at one of the tables at the end of the shelves of books, impatiently waiting to leave the library and forget about her studies for a moment, the complete opposite attitude from Connie. 

That was understandable, Connie thought. She was planning on getting her masters in Library Science, finishing her degree in Psychology this year without the intention of becoming a doctor or a researcher or a therapist or a professor. Those seemed far too daunting to her, she’d realised in her studies. It was too much for her to have that kind of responsibility, she had learned. She was far too gentle, far too manipulatable. She was leaving all of that to Harley, who was the kind of person that Connie was certain could speak to a criminal and not be afraid, and definitely not be sucked in and swayed by their charms. So for Connie, there were only two and a half more years to go of the relentless essays and exams and presentations. For Harley, it could take anywhere between six and nine, and that was if she could sit still for long enough to actually apply herself. She was intelligent enough, but she was so easily distracted, always in need of excitement, of something new. So regular breaks were a necessity. But Connie just couldn’t commit to that today. 

“So? How did it go? We off the hook for the day?”

“It went great, actually. He liked the idea a lot, and he gave me some really good notes too.”

“Then why do ya look like he told you he slept with your grandmother and now he’s getting your share of the inheritance?”

“... Because I can’t come out with you.”

“Aw, c’mon, Bubby, I-”

“I know, I know. But I really need to get started on this. I’m so sorry! I just really need to find someone to be the focal point of this stupid thesis and then find my bearings with it. I am really sorry, Harls.”

“Urgh…” Harley tossed her head back, her flexibility pushed as she seemed to completely curl backwards on herself before springing back to attention. “Fine! But you owe me, Bubby! I just wanna get out of here more than anything else, so you’re lucky! Have fun finding the perfect criminal. I would suggest checking today’s paper if you want a head start!”

The last part she spoke in a sing-songy voice before picking up her backpack and heading out, keychains jingling, flipping her fingers up to Connie on her way out, followed by her usual call of “LOVE YA!” and then she disappeared from sight. It was odd of her to mention the newspaper, given how unlikely it was for her to actually sit down and read one. “She must have been really bored…” Connie thought, as she settled herself down at the table and picked up the paper. The edges had been torn, some of the articles outlined in doodles of love hearts and smiley faces, all the work of Harley’s nervous, fidgeting fingers. But it was easy to look past them to the particular article of interest. 

“Oh… Oh!”

As Connie read the article, pieces of the information rang a bell in her memory. Edward Nigma, previously known as Edward Nashton and Enigma, who had a while back begun operating under the moniker The Riddler , was now free again. High-priced lawyers will get a man anything, Connie mused. She remembered him, and she definitely remembered Enigma for sure. That was one of the first times that Gotham had really heard of Batman in a positive light after being touted for so long as a menace, a criminal vigilante. And Enigma seemed to be the same thing, just written in a different font. 

And then, of course, there was his work as The Riddler. He’d been under the radar for the longest time, all through her studies it seemed, after being apprehended by Batman in Arkham City. Since then, he’d been unusually silent, behaving himself during his time at Arkham Asylum. So he had sort of disappeared from everyone’s minds, an easy feat in Gotham even for big name criminals, given the onslaught of entirely ubiquitous criminality that found its home there. But she remembered him now, very clearly, as she gazed at the old image of him being dragged from his lair by Aaron Cash. 

And she remembered how she felt at the time of his arrest. It had been difficult for her to reconcile herself with her feelings, knowing what crimes he committed and still being unable to deny the fact that he was actually quite cute. Those feelings stirred themselves up again as she read the article describing his release with excitement. 

“Egotistical, egomaniacal.”

“Superiority complex, God complex.”

“Intelligent, superior intellect.”

“Self-assured, irritating, compulsive, obsessive.”

No mention of a degree though, no doctorate, no title. After a records search, she pulled out the few newspapers that mentioned him, noting that none of them mentioned his schooling, his degree titles, where he might have studied. And then, the jackpot. One which actually explicitly mentioned his lack thereof. 

“Edward Nigma, as he now prefers to be called, refused to attend university. He claims his school life was boring and a test of his patience, and that levels of intelligence such as his cannot be measured by peers, as he has none.”

“Wow. What an ass. He’s perfect .”

So perfect, in fact, that Connie had no concept of just how much time had passed while she read everything she could about The Riddler and his crimes. That was until Harley was smacking her on the back, causing her to choke and splutter on the soda she was sipping. She’d been caught in the middle of reading yet another report which barely even mentioned Edward except in passing, but which she was intent on reading anyway in order to satisfy her desire to find out more, and more, and more. 

“Jeez, Harley! You scared me!”

“ I scared you!? You terrified me! Have you been in here this whole time!?”

“Yeah! You knew that! I said I was going to stay here and study for a little bit.”

“Bubby, I left you eight hours ago. Eight hours! And you’re not answering your phone!”

“Shit.”

“Yeah, shit! Have you been sitting here studying this whole time? And is that… OH, I see you picked up the paper then? I mentioned that as a joke .” She looked to the piles of reference materials littering the table and the floor. “Oh… Connie, Bubby. Is he who you’re focusing on?”

Connie tried to conceal her embarrassment, scrambling to cover the sheets of paper, knowing it was pointless now that the secret was out. 

“Are you blushing ? Oh my god . Connie, you’re supposed to be studying him like the nasty little loser bug he is. This is a psychological deep dive, not a… well, you’re not supposed to have a crush on your patients!”

“He’s not a patient!” Connie reminded herself to keep her voice quiet, rushing to clarify the second part of Harley’s statement. “And I don’t have a crush on him! He’s just… fascinating, that’s all.”

“Oh, yeah. Sure. Fascinating . Next you’re going to be telling me he’s dreamy, so clever, a handsome face for someone so much older than you.”

Desperate to change the subject, Connie closed her notebooks and began packing things into her bag as she spoke. 

“And I’m pretty far ahead with where I wanted to be, so now we can do whatever you want this weekend if you can promise to drop this and not make fun of me.”

“No can do, Bubby. But we are leaving this place, I gotta deprogramme you before you go completely wacko for some puzzle-brained doofus. Pack up your things, say goodbye to your boyfriend and let’s GO!”

Harley was right. Time to relax, let the idea simmer, and then come back to it with a fresh mind on Monday. But it was easier said than put into practice. Surprisingly, it was not all that easy to stop thinking about Nigma. He really was just fascinating . And as her studies continued, the crush developed, to the point where she had considered thanking him in the acknowledgements of the finished product, thought about him as she walked across the stage to get her diploma, wrote about him in her application for her masters, and almost, though luckily she saw sense at the last minute, sent him a copy of her thesis to read. 

But by the time she had finished her masters she was far too focused on the looming threat of real life. There were bills to pay, apartments to rent, work to be done at her new job in the Asylum, a place where Edward had been free of for years. In the back of her mind though, he always lingered, it’s just that there was so little opportunity for her to actually think for herself that he remained just a shadow, a memory of her past life. But not entirely forgettable.

[velocesainz]

𝑾𝒆𝒍𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒆 𝒕𝒐 𝑴𝒂𝒓𝒊𝒂'𝒔 𝑩𝒐𝒖𝒕𝒊𝒒𝒖𝒆°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

☾⋆⁺₊🎧✩°｡

Hello lovelies! Welcome to my boutique you can make your purchase of the items that are under the cut (You can always add your own prompts). I write romance, dark, angst and smut so feel free to let me know which genre you want to see me write. I also write poly!relationships and really love it. Feel free to send me a message to talk about anything, I'm always here to listen. I write for the following fandoms.

On hiatus

Formula 1 | Percy Jackson | Stranger Things | Twilight | The Rookie | Harry Potter | Suits

♡₊˚ 🦢・₊ ♪ ✧

𝑪𝒍𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒊𝒕𝒆𝒎𝒔: ˙✧˖°📷 ༘ ⋆｡˚

Bathrobe: You're literally perfect

Bikini: Sexy, sexy little slut

Blazer: Can you feel how how much you turn me on

Blouse: I wish I never met you

Bomber jacket: How could you say that

Cardigan: I could do this all day, all night

Cargo pants: You're not telling anyone what happens here

Crop top: I'll make tonight special

Corset: Oh you don't think it'll fit? Nice try but i will make it fit

Denim jeans: Your ass looks extra nice today

Flowy skirt: I wonder how your father would feel if he knew what was going on between us.

Graphic tee: Will you marry me?

Halter top: I will love you till the day I die

Hoodie: I wouldn't be able to live with myself if I didn't tell you

Jacket: You're the best thing that has ever happened to me

Jumpsuit: Swallow it. I should not see even a drop and that pretty tongue of yours

Maxi skirt: I'm drunk ok, so what?

Mesh top: Why do you care so much

Midi skirt: How can you show off so much of your body like that? Your body is mine and only I get the see it and touch it

Leggings: How did I get so lucky

Off-shoulder top: Wait till we get home

Overalls: If you were a good little whore for me you wouldn't have to face this

Pencil skirt: You're so fucking stupid

Polo: I frankly don't give a fuck

Puff sleeve: That's sucka good fucking girl

Romper: You are going to regret what you just did

Shirt: Your moans are my favourite sound

Shorts: I'm not responsible for anything that happens after this

Sweater: It's time to put that mouth to good use

Sweatpants: You make my head spin

Tank top: I can't get enough of you

Trench coat: You really think you can escape from me

Tube top: You squeeze me so well

Tunic: Jealous? So what if I am jealous

Turtleneck: I'm going to mark you up so everyone knows you're mine

V-neck sweater: You are so hot it makes me hard just looking at you

Custom-wear: Any particular prompt phrase

𝑨𝒄𝒄𝒆𝒔𝒔𝒐𝒓𝒊𝒔𝒆 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉: ༘ 𝜗𝜚⋆｡˚.ᐟ

Bracelet: Forbidden love

Earring: Soulmates

Necklace: Fake dating

Barrette: Bet

Scarf: Friends to lovers

Sunglasses: Arranged marriage

Watch: Strangers to lovers

Sun hat: Enemies to lovers

Baseball cap: Love triangle

Scrunchie: Unrequited

Headband: Secret relationship

Beret: Friends with benefits

Gloves: Rough sex

Cufflinks: Jealousy

Brooch: Soft sex

Bandana: Breeding

Belt: Spanking

Tie: Choking

Ear cuffs: Possessive/ obsessive

Clutch: Punishment

Shawl: Filming

Leg warmer: Degradation

Sashes: Drunk sex

Fedora: High sex

Beanie: Public sex/ semi-public

Face mask: insecure reader

Bucket hat: Mirror sex

[jukkaricity]

Rook Appreciation Week - Day 1 - Aldwir

Ah, I am so late and this is not very well written and barely edited, but I really didn't want to miss this. I am a terrible mother of blorbos clearly loving some of them more than the others, but I love them all anyway! (And now I will get to write at least a bit about all of them) Today we get to follow my beloved disaster-mage Lilya Aldwir getting lost in Arlathan forest while recovering relics. The two things she should be really good at. Featuring Lace Harding because there can never be enough Lace in anything.

@rookappreciationweek prompts for today:

Aldwir: Maps | Arlathan | Discovery

The sun was beginning to dip low, painting the forest in beautiful golden hues. The ground was warm and the weather was fair, first fireflies rising above the tall grass, dancing to the tunes played by cicadas. It would have been truly picturesque—if they weren’t completely and utterly lost. 

“Rook…” Lace began softly, looking up at the sky. The day was finally coming to an end. Shamefully, they seemed to have been even further from home than she anticipated. 

Much to her own disbelief, she would have taken the bear-infested forests of Ferelden over this shifty thicket. She could swear that the grass parted and fell back together on a whim, animal tracks would appear despite nothing passing through and the same vaguely elf-shaped trees followed them around. 

“Don’t say that.” Rook grumbled, more to herself than to Lace. She squinted hard searching for something to lead them back to the camp. As long as they didn’t admit to being led astray, it was not a fact.

“I think we’re lost.”

“No, we’re not,” the elf mumbled, more out of habit and superstition than actual conviction. She stopped in the middle of a small meadow. The air was fresh, the forest sounded right and the sky remained clear. At least they were not stuck in a Fade Bubble. This time. 

“We’ve passed this boulder 5 times already,” Lace pointed out as she sat down on the aforementioned piece of rubble. She rolled her shoulders with a sigh; they’d been up and about since the sky was barely lighting up. “We should have taken the left turn by the waterfall.”

“We took the left turn twice there.” Rook hummed leaning on the same rock. “And the right turn thrice. Maybe we should see if there’s treasure behind it?”

“Taash would definitely do that.” 

They fell into a stretch of silence. Not necessarily a dreadful type, but definitely contemplative. Lace rechecked all the straps on her armor. Rook checked her own pockets and pulled a bunch of leaves out of her blond curls. 

“Alright, what do we do?” Lace popped down from her perch with a slap of her hands to her thighs. She was ready to solve this and get back to the Lighthouse before the sundown. 

“Bellara said not to disturb this relic,” Rook pulled out an ornate box from her bag. It hummed softly, pale blue light flickering from between gilded walls. “But I think it’s a map. It should help.”

“You sure about it?”

“I mean how bad can this go?” Rook laughed, already powering it up. “I’m not sensing any disturbances from it.”

“I’ll look around. Yell if anything happens.”

“I’ll make sure you’ll hear me!” 

Lace could hear the steady buzzing of the lightning magic spill between the grass blades as she disappeared between the swaying trees. 

***

The sun was barely visible now, the sky turning deep blue above their heads, harsh reds spilling across the horizon like a wound bleeding into the water. Lace circled the plain at least 3 times. She knew she left marks on the tree trunks as she passed–never to be seen as she retraced her steps.

Lace peeked from behind Rook's shoulder at the artifact. In the hours that passed, it went through all the colors of the rainbow and only now started to turn warm green from sickly yellow. 

The golden triangles twirled in the air and suddenly fell into place with a satisfying click. They both held a breath.

Nothing happened. 

“Now what?” 

“I’m not sure.” Rook shook the rearranged box but it remained in position, awake and working but infuriatingly giving off no sign of what it was doing. “It’s not a map.” 

“But we didn’t explode either,” Lace pointed out, her fists now resting on her hips. This place made absolutely no sense at all. The relics–even less so.

The cool night breeze carried the smell of the river, summer berries and vegetable soup. 

Soup? 

Lace spun around, leaving Rook throwing curses in at least 5 different languages upon both the trinket and whoever had built it. The trees had shifted–again. But this time, instead of that waterfall cascading upwards–as if the forest was not mad enough on its own–the path led right into the little dock by the lake. Right to the Veil Jumpers camp.

“Hey, Rook? Was that trail always here?” she asked, tilting her head to the side. “What–oh?” Rook blinked twice. Really slowly. As if she was testing if her sight was not deceiving her. She let out a breath, equal parts weariness and hope. Neither of them moved for a moment. “We’re not telling Bellara, though.”

Lace burst out laughing. 

“Do you want this to be in her next serial?! Of course we’re not telling her.”

[newtboot465]

So after writing an 86k word tome over the last four weeks about a rutag x tasil love triangle, and posting the last chapters yesterday, I vowed to take a break.

But guess who has two thumbs and spent today writing 4k more words in #tasil one shots based on anonymous ask prompts? *This guy.*

I just can't help myself. It's like I feel personally responsible for this ship.

If you want to read the tome, link is embedded below.

Submit an ask if you'd like to see some additional drivel from my extended tasil universe! (Believe me, it will be an extended universe. I can't stop myself.)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/61662928

[moncherriecoups]

"Like clouds kissed by the sun, some people leave behind a color you can’t name."

✧ moon junhui x f!oc

✧ kwon hoshi x f!oc

✧ summary: She came to Seoul to escape—what she found instead was him. Jun, unreadable and magnetic. Hoshi, warm but just out of reach. As feelings blur and moments slip by, Min Ah realizes not everything beautiful is meant to last. Some storms come softly. Some leave a mess behind.

✧ word count:4.9k

✧ tags: emotional angst, fleeting connection, unresolved tension, office romance, love triangle, slow burn, banter, eventual smut

✧ warnings: one-night stand, heartbreak themes, drinking, suggestive scenes, alcohol use, suggestive content, emotional pining, sexual scenes

Chapter 10

Jun’s apartment smelled like garlic, sesame oil, and green onions… a comforting, layered aroma that wrapped around Min Ah like a blanket. The sun streamed through the wide windows, soft and sleepy, reflecting off Jun’s polished floors and the stacks of paper and open books on the dining table. He'd moved them aside earlier to make space for breakfast.

Min Ah was standing barefoot in his kitchen, sleeves of her oversized shirt rolled up to her elbows, her hair messily tied with a pastel scrunchie. Jun had woken up late, hair still sticking up slightly, quietly watching her from the couch, his long legs folded under him, a mug of coffee in his hand.

She turned and caught him staring. “You’re creeping again.”

Jun blinked. “I’m admiring.”

Min Ah rolled her eyes, but her cheeks flushed anyway. “Then help me plate the dumplings, Mr. Admirer.”

He stood with a lazy stretch and padded over. Their fingers brushed when he reached for a dish, and she instinctively smiled. Sundays like this—quiet, slow, safe—had become her favorite. A small part of her feared just how easily she'd started to crave them.

Jun handed her the soy sauce bowl and leaned against the counter, watching her work. “You didn’t have to cook.”

“I wanted to,” she said, voice soft. “You cooked last time. And you’ve been working so much. This is nothing.”

Jun hummed in response, noncommittal. His hand reached up to her back, tracing small circles without thinking. She leaned into it, like always. But there was a hesitation in his touch now, subtle and featherlight. Min Ah didn’t notice at first—not fully.

They brought the food to the table, filling their plates with pork and chive dumplings, stir-fried bok choy, and rice. Jun poured her tea without asking, and Min Ah added chili oil to his plate without being prompted. It was a rhythm they had fallen into so easily.

“So, Mr. Finance, how many emails are you ignoring today?” she teased between bites.

“Only eighty,” Jun replied, deadpan.

“Impressive.”

“I deleted thirty already.”

Min Ah grinned. “Proud of you.”

They ate in silence for a while, the quiet between them never uncomfortable, at least not until today. She noticed he wasn't really eating, just pushing rice around with his chopsticks. His eyes would drift toward her, then away, then toward the window. His smile didn’t reach his eyes.

She tilted her head. “Are you okay?”

Jun glanced at her. “Yeah. Just... tired, I think.”

Min Ah nodded. She didn’t push. But the air had changed slightly, like something fragile had been bent out of shape, just a little.

After breakfast, they cleaned up together, Jun drying dishes while Min Ah rinsed them. Their arms brushed often, and she would occasionally nudge him with her elbow. He responded with a small smile each time, but never with the usual flirtatious glint in his eyes. She caught herself frowning once or twice, unsure of what she was sensing. Distant? Distracted? Or was she just overthinking?

Jun’s phone buzzed from the counter. He looked at it, didn’t touch it, then walked away.

They ended up on the couch, her head on his lap, his fingers combing gently through her hair. She was scrolling through her phone lazily while he stared out the window again.

“Let’s go to Yeonnam next weekend,” she said. “That new dumpling place opened, remember?”

Jun took a second too long to respond. “Hmm? Yeah. Maybe.”

“Maybe?”

“I don’t know if I’ll be free.”

She tilted her head to look up at him. “Work?”

He nodded, but his jaw was tight.

Min Ah dropped the subject, returning to her phone. But her stomach sank slightly. This wasn’t the first “maybe” this week.

Later, they played a few rounds of a dumb mobile game she downloaded. Jun wasn’t even pretending to try hard, she beat him every round and he just smiled whenever she cheered.

“Are you letting me win?” she narrowed her eyes.

“Maybe,” he said again.

He kissed her after that, a soft kiss on her forehead. She leaned up for more, catching his mouth in a slow, quiet kiss. He kissed her back, gently, carefully, as if he was afraid to hold on too tightly. And something about that unsettled her more than if he had pulled away.

They didn’t have sex that morning. Not because the mood wasn’t there, but because Jun excused himself for a shower and stayed in there longer than usual. When he returned, she was curled up on the couch, playing her game again, pretending not to feel strange.

They spent the rest of the afternoon watching a movie, but neither of them remembered what it was about.

When it was time for her to leave, Jun walked her to the door, holding her bag like he always did. She reached for his hand, and he let her hold it, but his grip wasn’t as firm. It was warm, but it felt… unsure.

“I’ll text you,” he said quietly.

Min Ah gave him a small smile. “Okay.”

She stepped into the hallway, the door clicking softly behind her.

She didn’t ask, “When?”

And he didn’t say, “Soon.”

Inside, Jun leaned against the door, eyes shut. In his pocket, his phone buzzed again. He pulled it out this time—just work messages. But he didn’t open them. His screen stayed dark.

He could still see the image from Wednesday, Min Ah sitting in the café, laughing with Hoshi, her eyes soft, her head tilted slightly, like it did when she felt safe. He remembered the ribbon in her hair. The dress that hugged her waist. The way Hoshi looked at her. The way she looked back.

Nothing happened, he told himself again. They're coworkers. Friends.

Still, the image wouldn’t leave him.

And he hated that part of him wanted to ask her about it. Hated that he didn’t. Hated more that he might not want to know the answer.

So he did what he always did when things felt too much.

He backed away slowly.

—

Monday morning came with light rain tapping on the office windows, the type of drizzle that made the world look like it had been softened with watercolor. Min Ah arrived ten minutes earlier than usual, a warm cup of soy latte in one hand and her phone in the other.

She’d woken up to a message from Jun.

Good luck today. Don’t skip breakfast.

Min Ah smiled to herself the way people did when no one was watching, her fingers brushing her phone screen lightly as if trying to absorb the warmth of his words. She sat at her desk, cheeks still faintly pink, sipping slowly from her coffee.

By noon, she sent him a reply.. A sticker of a bear typing frantically on a laptop with the caption:

Monday mode 😵‍💫.

An hour passed. Then two. No reply.

By late afternoon, her phone buzzed.

Fighting. Hope the rest of your day goes smoothly.

Maybe he’s just tired, she thought. Or overworked. Monday blues. Maybe it’s nothing.

It wasn’t cold. It wasn’t even short, objectively. But it didn’t feel like him.

Not like the Jun who used to send voice notes of his coffee order just to make her laugh.

Not like the Jun who used to ask what she was eating for lunch, even if he already knew.

Not like the Jun who held her hand across his kitchen table like she was made of something he didn’t want to lose.

Tuesday morning, she woke up determined to be warm first.

She picked one of her favorite memes—a sleepy duck dragging itself to work—and sent it at 7:55 a.m., with the caption:

This is me. Pray for me and my 9AM sync.

No response.

At 12:38, her phone buzzed just as she sat in the small breakroom, eating rice balls and miso soup.

Not by 9AM.

Not by 11.

You’ll do great. Don’t stress too much.

Should she reply? Ask if he was okay?

Again, kind. But it felt... templated. Like a canned message.

She stared at it for a full minute, thumb hovering above her keyboard.

No.

She placed her phone face-down.

Her appetite was gone anyway.

Her phone stayed silent.

That evening, she didn’t text. She waited.

Waited through a walk home in cloudy dusk, waited through folding her laundry, waited through brushing her teeth.

Wednesday came.

The ache in her chest wasn’t sharp. It was dull and spreading, like something left too long in the cold.

No message.

No meme.

No Did you eat lunch?Nothing.

By lunchtime, Min Ah hadn’t touched her phone since she walked into the office. Not because she wasn’t thinking about it—she was. Constantly. But her pride was a stubborn thing.

She looked less like herself that day. Her lipstick was a bit off, the top corner not filled in properly. Her hair tied in a slightly lopsided ponytail.

Nothing major, but enough for someone observant to notice.

Eunji noticed.

The Artois team had gathered briefly in the pantry area, half-standing, half-sitting around the bar counter while they waited for the microwave to stop whirring. Dahyun was explaining some TikTok trend. Mr. Kim, as always, was trying and failing to understand it.

Everyone was laughing.

Everyone, except Min Ah, who was smiling but absent.

“Wow,” Eunji suddenly said, loud enough for the group to hear. “No phone-checking every thirty seconds today?”

Eunji watched her from across the counter.

Min Ah was pretending to scroll through something on her phone, but her screen hadn’t moved in minutes.

Min Ah looked up, blinking.

Eunji raised an eyebrow. “Everything okay with Mr. Quantix?”

Dahyun glanced over.

Mr. Kim paused mid-chew.

Min Ah forced a chuckle, tucking hair behind her ear. “He’s… busy..”

Her voice was even, but soft. Controlled.

Eunji didn’t smile, but her gaze softened just slightly. She didn’t press.

The silence stretched for a beat too long, then Dokyeom walked in, dramatically announcing he was starving and breaking the tension with his usual flair. People laughed again.

But Eunji kept her eyes on Min Ah for a second longer.

She didn’t say I’m sorry. She didn’t say Are you okay?

But in that lingering look, something shifted—a quiet offering of truce, or maybe understanding.

The wall wasn’t gone, but it had cracked.

Min Ah returned to her desk after lunch with her chest feeling heavier than before.

She opened her messages. No new texts.

Her chat with Jun was buried five threads down now, under a flurry of team notes and food group orders.

But her hand hovered over her phone more than once that afternoon.

She didn’t open it.

Didn’t text again.

Didn’t know what she’d even say if she did.

Nothing.

Her eyes kept flicking to the time.

3:12.

4:20.

5:07.

It was as if someone had switched the lights off on something that used to shine.

Min Ah walked home under gray skies. It wasn’t raining, but it looked like it might.

The wind pulled at the hem of her coat, and she pulled it tighter around her, heart and hands cold.

And when she curled into bed that night, phone face-down again, she told herself she wouldn’t cry.

She didn’t.

But she didn’t sleep much either.

—

It was nearly 10:43 AM on Thursday when Hoshi finally wandered into the Artois pantry.

He’d just wrapped up a painfully long budget alignment call with a client who kept saying “pivot” like it meant something, and he was in desperate need of caffeine, and not the nice kind, but the ugly, canned convenience store kind that tasted like regret and MSG but got the job done.

He cracked the top open with a satisfying hiss, leaned his elbow against the counter near the coffee machine, and took a long, slow sip.

That’s when he saw her.

Min Ah was already there, staring blankly at the drip tray of the machine as if waiting for a miracle. She was in a pale beige cardigan today, oversized and soft, with her hair tied in a messy half-bun that somehow still made her look like she belonged in a commercial for artisanal soap or something.

But something was off.

Her lips were pressed into a thin line. Her fingers clutched her phone like it owed her money. And her coffee, half-filled and lukewarm, sat untouched on the counter beside her.

“You look like someone canceled your birthday party,” Hoshi said, voice soft but teasing.

Min Ah blinked and turned toward him. She smiled—it was automatic, practiced, polite. Too practiced.

“Nah,” she replied. “Just… didn’t sleep well.”

Hoshi raised an eyebrow, watching her for a beat longer than necessary. “Was it bad dreams, or just doomscrolling until 3AM?”

Min Ah let out a small laugh, one that fizzled before it could settle. “Something like that.”

There was a pause. She glanced down at her phone again. Then back at her coffee. Then nowhere at all.

She wasn’t going to say anything else.

Hoshi took another sip of his drink and leaned a little closer, not enough to be obvious, but enough to let her know he wasn’t going anywhere.

He could see it now—the slight smudge under her eyes that concealer hadn’t fully erased. The way her shoulders were pulled inward, her body curling around itself like she was trying to be smaller.

She wasn’t wearing lipstick today.

That fact stuck with him more than it should’ve.

“Need anything?” he asked gently. “Want me to ask Dokyeom to fake a client emergency so you can go home early?”

Min Ah chuckled. “And let him think I owe him a favor for the rest of my life? No, thank you.”

They both smiled.

But it didn’t reach her eyes.

Another pause. Longer this time. The kind that sits heavy in the chest.

Hoshi looked down at the rippled metal surface of the counter and said nothing.

Because what could he say?

He could ask her. Ask what was wrong. Ask if it was Jun. Ask if he’d stopped replying again, if he’d pulled back, if he was hurting her without even realizing it.

He could offer his shoulder, his time, his warmth.

But instead, he just leaned back against the counter and took another sip of canned coffee.

“Do you ever think about dyeing your hair again?” Min Ah asked suddenly.

Hoshi blinked. “What?”

She nodded toward his head. “The brown looks good. Just… wondering if you ever miss the blond.”

Hoshi tilted his head, pretending to ponder. “Hmm… I don’t know. I think the brown’s growing on me. Easier on the eyes, right?”

“It makes you look…” She hesitated. “...grounded.”

He laughed. “What, like a tax accountant?”

“No,” she grinned faintly. “Like… more settled. Less neon energy.”

“Wow. Attacked at ten in the morning.”

She bumped his elbow gently with hers. “You know what I mean.”

He did.

He just didn’t know how to answer without telling her that every time he looked in the mirror lately, he saw someone who was trying a little too hard to be someone else.

Without telling her that part of the reason he stopped wearing pink blazers and checkerboard pants was because she once said Jun’s style was “quiet but sexy.”

Without telling her that he’d stood in the aisle of the hair dye section for fifteen minutes before picking dark brown, thinking maybe, just maybe, it would make him feel a little less like the loud friend, the chaos mascot, the silly one who got left behind.

“I like the brown,” she said softly. “It suits you.”

Without telling her that being near her hurt sometimes.

Especially like this.

Especially when she looked so lost.

“Thanks,” Hoshi replied, voice gentler than usual. “You look nice too. That cardigan’s a weapon.”

Min Ah blinked. “What?”

“Like, dangerously soft. I’m shocked HR hasn’t issued a warning.”

She laughed again. Really laughed, this time. It sounded like her.

But only for a moment.

Then her phone buzzed on the counter. She looked at it. Lit up, screen unlocked. Read the notification. Didn’t smile.

And then she locked it again without replying.

That was all Hoshi needed to know.

His heart dropped a little—not out of triumph, but out of something that felt a lot like helplessness.

So this was it.

Jun was doing it again. Pulling away. Leaving her dangling in the middle of nowhere. Making her wait. Making her question herself. Making her small.

Part of Hoshi burned with quiet rage.

Another part felt this dark, ugly bloom of hope rising inside his chest.

He hated himself for thinking it.

Maybe this was the opening.

Maybe, if she could just see—really see—that she didn’t have to feel like this, that there was someone who noticed everything, who never made her wait, who never disappeared...

“Min Ah,” he said suddenly.

She looked up.

He hesitated. The words were there, just past his tongue, but he swallowed them back down.

“You should eat something.”

Min Ah tilted her head. “What?”

“It’s already 11. Your coffee looks like it died thirty minutes ago.”

She smiled, gently. “You’re probably right.”

“I’m always right.”

He tossed his empty can in the trash and straightened up, hands in his pockets. “Come on. I’ll walk you to the lunchroom. Let’s see if Eunji left any snacks unclaimed.”

Min Ah hesitated. Then nodded, sliding her phone back into her pocket. “Only if you promise not to lecture me the whole way.”

“No promises,” Hoshi said, grinning. “But I’ll try.”

They walked side by side down the hall. Their arms brushed once, then again.

Neither of them moved away.

And as Hoshi glanced sideways at her—at the cardigan, at the slight puffiness under her eyes, at the way she was still pretending she wasn’t checking her phone every three minutes—he felt the hope rise again, uninvited.

But somewhere, deep in his chest, the words pulsed quietly like a drumbeat:

He didn’t speak it aloud.

Didn’t dare.

Maybe I still have a chance.

But if I do… this time, I’ll wait. I’ll stay close. I’ll be good.

—

Even if she never looks at me the same way.

Even if she still loves him.

I’ll be here.

The apartment was quiet.

Too quiet, in that distinct way only big spaces get when there's no one else to fill them. Outside, the city flickered—lights blinking across high-rise windows, traffic humming somewhere twenty floors below, the occasional red pulse of a passing aircraft blinking against the foggy skyline.

Jun sat on the couch in the dark, still in the clothes he’d worn to work. His blazer had been discarded somewhere hours ago—maybe the armrest, maybe the floor. He wasn’t sure. He couldn’t really move. His back curved forward slightly, elbows on knees, hands limp between them.

His living room was dim except for the soft light that spilled through the windows, illuminating the outline of his jaw, the slope of his shoulders, the deep furrow between his brows.

On the coffee table in front of him sat a takeout box. Unopened. Cooling. Forgotten.

His phone lay beside it, screen facing up.

It lit up every few minutes—emails, work reminders, a message from Mingyu asking if he was coming in early tomorrow for the investment briefing.

Not her.

Not once.

Jun exhaled through his nose, sharp and soft at the same time.

His thumb ghosted toward his phone again. Hovered above it. Didn’t touch.

He hadn’t texted her in five days.

He knew that.

He was counting, even if he told himself he wasn’t.

She hadn’t texted either.

And that was the part that made him feel like he couldn’t breathe.

Then he saw her.

The image kept playing over and over in his mind.

Last week. Friday. After lunch. He had been tired from an early client meeting outside the office, hungry and a little grumpy when he decided to detour through the lower ground of The Parc for something quick.

No, he saw them.

Hoshi leaned in as he spoke. She leaned in too.

It looked like it belonged in a commercial.

Like they belonged together..

Her. With someone else. Looking lighter than she ever did around him these days.

—

He rubbed his face with both hands now, letting them drag down slowly. Then stared at the floor.

“She looked so happy,” he whispered to no one. “Like she didn’t even think of me.”

She belongs with someone who doesn’t have to be convinced to stay.Someone who doesn’t disappear.

That thought wasn’t fair. He knew it. But once the spiral began, it didn’t care about fairness.

His brain started feeding him more. Louder, sharper.

Someone who doesn’t carry so much goddamn weight inside his chest that even breathing sometimes feels like work.

Jun leaned back against the couch, his head resting on the cushion, eyes closed now.

In the darkness behind his lids, the image changed.

Not Min Ah laughing.

But Min Ah curled up in his bed. That morning weeks ago when she stayed through the weekend. The way she leaned into his hand when he touched her cheek. The way she fell asleep mid-sentence because she trusted him. Because, for a moment, she really thought he was choosing her.

Wasn’t I?

But hadn’t he started pulling away again, little by little?

Fewer texts. Quieter calls. Canceling lunch on Monday because he was “slammed,” and skipping Tuesday altogether. He hadn’t even given her a reason for today. Just… didn’t show up.

And she hadn’t called him out.

She never did.

That made it worse.

That made it feel like maybe she was already adjusting. Already letting go. Maybe this was just her soft exit.

Jun sat forward again, elbows back on knees.

His fingers curled into loose fists.

This was exactly what he promised her he wouldn’t do.

He remembered her voice—soft, right before she left his place that Sunday morning.

“Don’t disappear on me again.”

And here he was.

Vanishing in real time.

Even though she never did anything wrong.

Even though all she did was exist and be kind and want to love someone the way she deserved to.

Even though this time—this time—he swore he’d be better.

His phone buzzed again.

Mingyu, again. Followed by a message from the Quantix group chat. Something about a new pitch.

Jun stared at the screen. Still nothing from her. He thought about texting. Just something simple.

“Hi.”

Or maybe, “How are you?”

But then his brain snapped again, fast and cruel.

She doesn’t want to hear from you.

She has a whole team who actually talks to her.

She has Hoshi, who doesn’t make her wait.

Jun dropped the phone back onto the table, face down this time.

His mouth was dry.

The silence of the room shifted. It wasn’t peaceful anymore. It was suffocating.

He stood up slowly, walked toward the window, and stared out.

The city glittered like it was mocking him.

Every time he told himself he’d do better, something pulled him back down. He wanted to be someone who could love without fear. But he wasn’t. Not really. Not yet.

He had spent so long surviving, protecting, controlling his solitude that the moment someone reached for him with tenderness, it felt like a threat.

Min Ah didn’t deserve that.

And yet, she stayed.

For a while.

Until now.

—

Jun placed a hand against the cool glass of the window.

She hadn’t told him about the coffee run. That wasn’t a crime. They didn’t have to share everything. But the thought of her and Hoshi, sitting across from each other, laughing like they used to—it stuck.

It made Jun feel ten years old again. Small. Replaceable.

He exhaled shakily and turned away from the window.

Then sat back on the couch. Picked up the takeout box. Opened it. Put it back down after one bite.

His phone buzzed again.

He didn’t look this time.

He just sat in the dark, letting the city keep moving outside, wondering how long he could stay frozen like this before she finally stopped waiting.

—

It had been five days.

Five days since Jun pulled away.

Again.

No calls. No texts. No little green bubble lighting up her phone to say, “I’m thinking about you.” Not even a “busy today” or a ghost of a meme he thought she might like. Just… silence.

Min Ah lay on her bed, still in the wide-legged pants and soft blouse she wore to work. The only light came from a half-burned candle on her windowsill, flickering weakly like it, too, was running out of energy.

The room felt untouched. Still. Like it didn’t know whether to hold on or let go.

Her phone sat beside her pillow. Blank screen. No vibrations. No pings. No buzz that made her heart skip for one stupid second.

She hated how trained she’d become—how her body still reacted to hope even when her brain already knew better.

Min Ah rolled onto her side, pulling her knees toward her chest. The sheets were cool. The air smelled like fabric softener and the faint trace of the takeout she didn’t finish. A kimbap roll, picked at then abandoned. The soy sauce container had tipped, dark liquid staining the paper bag it came in. She hadn’t had the energy to throw it out.

Her mind looped the same lines like a stuck song:

Did I say too much? Did I stay too long?

Should I have asked what we were?

Was that it? Did I ruin it by being happy?

The spiral was gentle at first. Not the kind that screamed or shook her by the shoulders. But soft. Like a blanket she wrapped around herself without realizing it was suffocating her.

She could still remember the way Jun looked at her the last time he touched her.

They were in his apartment. She was sitting on his kitchen counter, laughing about how their fried rice turned out too salty because she accidentally double-measured the soy sauce. He just stood there, smiling, face close to hers, hands warm against her thighs.

That look.

That warmth.

It felt real.

It was real.

Wasn’t it?

Min Ah sat up slowly, her hand reaching for her phone before her heart could catch up.

She opened their chat. The last message was from her, four days ago.

He never replied.

The read receipt sat there, like a bruise.

She scrolled up. Looked at the thread that once overflowed with shared Spotify links, blurry pictures of their food, random observations like “the office printer is making a haunted house noise again.” Those little, intimate fragments of dailiness that made them feel more than just something undefined.

Now, it was like someone hit pause.

No. It was worse.

Someone had turned off the sound entirely.

Her thumbs hovered over the screen.

Looked at it.

She typed:

Hey. Is everything okay?

Stared.

Read it again.

Then deleted it.

If he wanted to talk to her, he would have. If he wanted her, he’d make it known.

Didn’t he say it himself?

“I won’t disappear again.”

Min Ah scoffed, quiet and bitter. Her eyes stung, but no tears came. Not yet. She was too tired to cry. All that lived inside her now was the ache of something unfinished.

She turned her phone over, screen down, and set it back beside her.

The silence swelled.

She reached up and rubbed at her temples, brushing strands of hair away from her face. Her fingers were cold.

Maybe she was overreacting. Maybe he was just overwhelmed. Busy. Exhausted. He was always inside his head.

But hadn’t he been… off?

Ever since that Wednesday, something in her chest had been off-kilter.

Jun hadn’t called. Hadn’t texted. Not even a lazy meme. The silence was heavy, familiar in the worst way.

Min Ah found herself wondering—What if he’s just over it?

What if she wasn’t interesting enough? Pretty enough? 

Enough, period?

What if Jun had someone else now? Someone less complicated. Someone who didn’t come with ghosts of family wounds and work crushes.

Maybe he was never hers to begin with. Maybe all she was… was a warm weekend and a temporary comfort.

The thought clung to her skin like smoke, impossible to shake.

Or maybe that was just another excuse she was making to give him room to vanish.

Min Ah wrapped her arms around herself.

She thought she’d stopped doing that—justifying men who couldn’t give her what she needed. She thought Jun was different. And in many ways, he was. But that didn’t mean he was ready. Or able.

Or willing.

A car horn echoed down the street outside. She stood slowly, legs heavy beneath her, and padded barefoot to the window. The candle flickered behind her.

From the 12th floor, the city looked soft. Blurred. Lights melting into one another like watercolor. A plane blinked red in the distance. Some office tower still had lights on. People still working. Or maybe just forgetting to shut things down.

She leaned her forehead against the glass, eyes wide but unfocused.

Somewhere in the city, Jun was staring into the same sky.

She was sure of it.

Maybe he was sitting in his living room again, with the lights off and dinner untouched, thinking about her. Maybe he was tired too. Maybe he wanted to call.

But he didn’t.

He never did.

And Min Ah was tired of being the one who waited.

The one who made room. Who excused. Who softened herself until she forgot what her own edges looked like.

“Why does it always end like this?” she whispered, voice barely audible above the hum of her fridge and the city outside.

The candle gave one last flicker, then went out.

—

OK so I'm entirely open for two different ending since I can't choose at all between Jun and Hoshi................. what do you think?

[schrodinger-swriter]

HIHIHI CAN I REQ VOX WITH PROMPTS 21, 23, AND 27??? TYSM HAVE A GOOD DAY :D

Prompts 21, 23, and 27 with Vox

I think this will be my last post at least for this writing session... apologies for putting out so little today I'm feeling a little blugh..

LOVE TRIANGLE:

It is only natural that the love triangle in question involves his biggest rival and enemy, Alastor... except does Alastor actually like you or is he just using you for his own personal gain and spiting Vox? That's... likely, but how far is the radio demon willing to go just to do something so petty? Regardless it puts Vox in a spiral trying to out compete Alastor, even more than usual. He begins to overcompensate more than he already does with all these flashy tech items and gadgets to try to win your attention over. He seems like the type to get drunk and cry at your front door. It's actually kind of sad to watch.

BEACH EPISODE:

He's mostly waterproof! I doubt getting in the water would actually kill him (well... ignoring that he's a sinner so he would just come back..) or do any real damage to him. At most it might make him feel gross and sluggish after a bout of electricity.. HATES the sand due to it just getting everywhere. Not at all afraid to ogle at you when you step out in your swimwear, but if you ask him he might try to act smooth... flirt, but try to make it sound... not as atrocious as the thoughts going through his mind. If there's a drink bar at the beach he's mostly going to stick there and get his fill on whatever they're offering.

CAMPING:

Though if there's anything that he hates more than the beach it's camping. He is... what I like to call chronically online. A workaholic too, though I am unsure he truly fits the definition. His job requires him to keep up with trends at all hours of the day, and with Alastor back Vox is even more obsessed with beating out Bambi. He's on edge and a little irritated... he's not... totally displeased with spending time with you, but add the above with that he just doesn't like the idea of sleeping on the ground over night where there's god knows what in Hell's forests... it is simply not pleasing to him.

[stellarspecter]

stwg daily prompt 4/10/24: guitar

1.8k, steddie, modern au, guitar teacher eddie/guitar student steve (+ dustin as steve's brother)

so this is literally just me giving eddie my exact job and letting the plot bunnies do as they may. will be up on ao3 in a day or two once i've had time to look it over and think of a title but here it is! divider graphic by @saradika-graphics

“Let’s try that verse again, okay? 5, 6, 7, 8…” 

The little girl in front of Eddie plays with the utmost concentration, her little brow scrunched up as she tries to switch to a D chord. 

“It’s our little triangle, remember? On the — good, exactly,” Eddie nods and keeps strumming. “And to C, slide down to the first fret… 1, 2, 3, to E minor, yep, 1, 2, 3, 4.” The last notes fade into the slightly stale air of the practice room. “Good job! You did a lot better with your chord transitions this time. We’re about out of time for today, but try and practice that verse and chorus at home, okay? And then we’ll see about that bridge next week,” he tells her.

She nods with a big gummy smile. “Okay!” Eddie helps her put her guitar back in its case and walks her back out to the little waiting area they have behind the lessons desk. It’s honestly a little cramped, but before they hired him, he hadn’t even known that Guitar Center offered lessons at all, so it makes sense. He sends the girl off with her parents and a promise to practice every day before he slides behind the desk to check his schedule for his next student.

Usually he has a half hour gap on Wednesdays that he uses to practice for his band or chat with his coworkers, but today there’s a new name on the schedule: Steve Harrington.

“Huh,” he mutters. His manager hadn’t mentioned any new sign-ups to him. Maybe it was from online? With a shrug, he settles in to wait for the guy to show up. It’s 5:57, so he’s still got a few minutes.

After a minute or two of dicking around on his phone, someone calls out, “Hey, Eddie!”

He looks up to find his 6:30 student standing in front of him, an excitable kid named Dustin Henderson. He’s fun to chat with, and Eddie looks forward to his lessons — especially since it’s an opportunity to get yet another young mind hooked on metal. Sure, he’ll play and teach whatever is required, but he’ll never forget his one true love.

“Henderson,” Eddie responds, standing up and leaning against the pillar bracketing the desk. “You know your lesson is in half an hour, right?”

“I know!” He replies, chipper as ever. “I’m after him!” He jerks a thumb back behind him, and Eddie finally notices the most beautiful man he’s ever seen standing behind Dustin.

Dear god. If this is his new student, he’s absolutely fucked.

“Hi,” the man says, extending a hand when it becomes clear Eddie is incapable of forming words. “I’m Steve.”

Eddie forces himself to act normal and grabs his hand, shooting him a smile that he hopes comes off as confident. “Eddie,” he replies. “Munson. I play guitar.”

“I’d sure hope so,” Steve jokes, eyes dancing, and Eddie is fuuuuucked. Completely and absolutely. How is he going to be able to be alone with him in a tiny practice room for a whole half hour? 

“Well, you’re in luck,” Eddie says, kind of operating on autopilot while his brain reboots. “It’s. Guitar Center.” He mentally facepalms and claps his hands together, spinning and walking them back towards the practice rooms. “So, Steve, what brings you here on this fine day? Are you Dustin’s… dad?”

Usually, his mom is the one to drive him and wait in the lobby, but it’s not out of the question that Steve could be his stepdad or something, with their different surnames. He seems around Eddie’s age, but maybe he’s just into milfs or something? 

He can’t be single. The universe is never that kind to Eddie.

Dustin bursts out laughing. “My dad? Dude, he’d had to have had me at like, twelve!”

Eddie flushes. “Well, I don’t know!”

“He’s my brother.” Steve swoops in and saves him from embarrassment. “The Hendersons took me in when I was sixteen, that’s why we have different last names.”

Eddie nods. “Oh, cool. So I assume Dustin got you to take lessons too?”

Steve laughs a little, just when Eddie thought he could finally cope with his unearthly beauty, the dick. “Yeah, he’s dead set on us starting a family band or something. I told him I could just dust off my piano skills, but he insisted. Little twerp.” He goes to ruffle his brother’s hair, and Dustin expertly ducks — clearly a common occurrence in their household.

“Cool,” Eddie says again. “Well, you ready to get started?” 

Steve nods, and Dustin goes to look around the store and mess with the DJ equipment. 

“So, you said you played piano? How long ago was that?” Eddie asks as he ushers him into the practice room.

“Oh, years and years. My parents made me take lessons when I was a kid, stopped in middle school, so it’d have to be… ten years or something now? Eleven? Jesus, I’m getting old,” Steve answers.

Eddie laughs. “Oh, trust me, I get it. Every time I say I’ve been playing guitar for over a decade a little part of me dies.” They share a laugh as they both get situated on their matching stools and guitars on their laps. “So that’s a little bit about me, that I’ve been playing for over a decade. I didn’t go to school for music or anything, but I’m in a metal band in my free time, and I like to think I have a pretty good understanding of music theory and techniques after all this time, so don’t worry, you’re in good hands.” It’s easier than he’d expected to slip into his practiced first lesson spiel, but he’s still hyper-focused on Steve’s reactions, taking in every hint of a smile. “I’m actually self-taught, so I learned basically by just watching YouTube tutorials and spending a lot of time on Ultimate Guitar,” Eddie explains with a wry smile. 

“That’s really cool,” Steve says, impressed. “I could never do that.”

“Well, that’s what I’m here for, right?” It’s a familiar back and forth to Eddie. Maybe he can do this. “I like to run my lessons the same way — instead of learning some random two-measure exercises from a book, we learn songs that you want to learn, and through that we can learn some new chords and strumming patterns and techniques. How does that sound?”

“Perfect,” Steve says. “That was always the worst part of piano lessons. The music was so boring.” His nose wrinkles in distaste.

“Awesome,” Eddie says, and pulls out his phone, already open to his notes app. “So, what kind of music do you want to learn?”

“Uh.” Steve pauses. “I, uh, I listen to a lot of, um, pop? And, like, indie? Kind of just top forty radio type stuff.” 

Eddie nods as he writes that down. “Cool, cool. Any artists or songs in particular? Or just pop as a whole?”

“I dunno,” Steve admits. “I like most of the popular stuff. Oh, there’s this one artist my friend has been getting me into — Chappell Roan?”

“Nice,” Eddie responds, somehow managing to keep from jumping with joy that he might actually have a chance with this guy if he listens to gay people music. 

“You don’t… mind?” Steve asks hesitantly. Eddie looks up at him, confused. “I just mean, you don’t exactly look like you would love all that girly pop music.” He waves a hand at Eddie’s Metallica shirt, ripped jeans, and patch-covered vest. 

Eddie shrugs. “Well, maybe, but it’s my job. You wouldn’t believe the amount of Swifties I’ve got, I couldn’t avoid it if I wanted to. And I mean, it is pretty catchy,” he concedes, if only to see Steve smile again. “And,” he continues, “even better, really easy to play.”

“Oh, good,” Steve laughs.

Eddie pockets his phone and reaches for his folder, taking out a sheet of empty chord diagrams. “So usually for a first lesson, we just learn a few basic chords, and then get started with our first full song next week, sound good?”

Steve nods. “Yep.”

“Great.” Eddie sets the sheet on the stand in front of them and pencils in two little dots on the first diagram. “Here’s our first chord. This is called an E minor. You wanna put your first finger on the second string…”

He goes on to teach Steve an E minor chord, then a C chord, then a G chord, and by the time they’re done learning D, Eddie thinks that Steve’s fingers are going to haunt his dreams. He’s not mad about it. Just sad that he won’t be able to see them in person again for a whole week.

They make their way through the lesson, stumbling from one chord to another, but by the end of the thirty minutes, Steve is already doing pretty well with his chord transitions. Eddie’s honestly impressed. He drops him off in the lobby and exchanges him for Dustin, who is bouncing up and down with excitement.

“How was he,” he bursts out as soon as the door is closed.

Eddie snorts. “He was good. Just learned a few chords.”

Dustin waits expectantly. “And?”

“And what?”

“And how was he! Like, was he excited? Did you have a good time? Are you guys gonna be friends now?” 

Eddie rolls his eyes fondly and takes a seat. Technically, he’s not supposed to be actual friends with students, or even talk with them outside of work, but with Dustin and now Steve, they don’t feel like paying customers so much as friends he’s doing a favor for. “He was good. I’m sure he’ll tell you in the car on the way home.”

Dustin groans. “Come on.”

“You come on. You better have been practicing, show me what you’ve been doing.”

With that, Dustin drags himself to his seat, and the lesson goes great from there, both of them distracted from Steve by the intricacies of Stairway to Heaven.

When he brings Dustin out, he’s almost taken off guard by Steve waiting for them. In just half an hour, he’d already forgotten his stunning resemblance to a Greek god. It’s honestly unfair for his memory to do that to him. 

“Hey,” Steve greets them. “Had a good lesson?”

“Obviously,” Dustin scoffs.

“He did great today,” Eddie tells him, “And so did you. Just remember to practice, alright? Gotta build that muscle memory.”

Dustin rolls his eyes, too used to hearing it, but Steve nods enthusiastically. “Yeah, of course. See you next week?”

It’s a simple phrase. He says it every day. It’s a contractual obligation that yes, he will see them next week. But when Steve says it, it feels like a promise. Eddie can’t wait to fulfill it.

“Yeah,” he breathes, mesmerized by the way the fluorescent lights bring out the green in Steve’s eyes. “See you next week.”

Steve smiles and turns to leave, picking his way through the aisles of musical miscellany. Eddie can already hear Dustin interrogating him about his lesson. He leans back against the wall with only one thought in his mind: only seven days until he gets to see Steve Harrington again. 

He’ll be counting every single one.