#also hi i’m still here + pretending like i write fanfic and don’t just stare blankly at the word document

[bastardnev]

rly wanna get back 2 writing stuff for my red dead au but also like. it’s so much work

[scaranation]

hi hi !! could you write an ANGST with Dottore and Zhongli where we break up with them? maybe in dottore we break up because we can't bear(?) his experiments anymore and in Zhongli one we feel not enough/that he loves someone else (maybe Guizhong?)

Gn reader or Fem!reader(if u write for fem. sorry if u do not,i couldnt find rules and im really really sorry ! :( ... )

p.s will there be To love another 3rd part? it's my fav fanfic ever !!

love your work ♡♡

hihihi i know this is like super late but this prompt is literally so good 😭 also im thinking of writing another part to that fic, but i just dont know where to take it so ive been procrastinating haha

dottore’s part is kinda ooc bcs let’s be real if he’s that whipped for reader he wouldn’t let them break up with him, but im going to pretend that he’s not as much of a red flag as he actually is 🤭🤭

༊*·˚ 𝐁𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐊 𝐈𝐓 𝐎𝐅𝐅

Pairing: Dottore x GN!reader, Zhongli x GN!reader (separate)

Content: Angst, no comfort. Mentions of canon typical violence, assumed past Guizhong x Zhongli

DOTTORE

“It seems my beloved has finally thought to visit me.”

You cringed from the overpowering metallic scent as you stepped into your boyfriend’s laboratory, trying hard not to look at the borderline gruesome sights on the clinical beds.

Dottore cleaned the blood off a bone saw he was holding, setting the instrument down carefully before walking towards you - eyes lit up, but holding a gleam different to the maniacal one he usually possessed.

“How was your day, my love?” His voice was humorous. He seemed to be in a good mood, humming lightly while opening the door for you.

“It was fine.” You sighed as you felt the weight of Dottore’s harbinger coat settle across your shoulders, registering the touch of his hand as he pulled you into him and away from the Snezhnayan cold.

“Has that coworker of yours still been bothering you?”

“… Don’t try pretending.”

“Whatever could you be talking about?” The Doctor’s grip on you tightened.

“I wouldn’t wish death on anyone, even if they annoyed me to that extent.” You sighed, finally tilting your head to stare into the planes of your lover’s mask.

“Oh, they’re not dead. Rather, they’ve been subject to some biological modifications of an experimental kind - would you like to see?”

You gritted your teeth.

“I’m hungry, don’t make me lose my appetite.”

“Good thing I have a nice place booked for dinner, my love.”

His compliance was almost uncanny.

-

Normal couples gazed affectionately into each other’s eyes over meat and wine, fingers fondly interlaced over the dining table. And yet, you couldn’t bring yourself to return Dottore’s adoring scarlet gaze, and his hold on your hand felt more like a death trap.

“Is the food to your liking?” He asked. He hadn’t touched any of the vegetables on his plate, only biting into the steak.

“Yes. You should eat greens, too.” You commented.

“Mm. Why don’t you feed me, then?” Dottore only tilted his head, smiling eagerly. Recently, a fear of you being turned into one of the harbinger’s countless experiments had taken hold, and it was this same fear that drove you to play right how he wanted. And so, lifting your fork, you fed him with all the patience you could muster - staring into those deep red eyes, feeling like nothing more than prey. Those eyes would’ve been the last thing many others had seen before their death, the end of their lives marked by that sadistic grin. You almost shuddered at the thought.

Normal couples slept under starry nights reflected in their star crossed hearts as they cuddled close under soft sheets. Normality was such a strange concept, you decided. Despite the fact that you were doing just what normal couples should, the situation was still absurd. However, your fear of becoming another one of the harbinger’s lab rats wasn’t unfounded. You mulled over this fact, almost snorting at the juxtaposition. Here you were - wondering if the man who cradled you in his arms would strap you down to a table in the name of research.

“My love, are you still awake?” You felt Dottore’s breath ghost over your neck, his face pressing into your nape. With a rustle, he readjusted the blanket over your shoulders.

“Yeah, I can’t sleep.”

“Nightmares, perhaps? I have a pill you can use for those.”

“No, just… thinking.” You squirmed in Dottore’s hold. His comment only reignited your spiralling train of thought, pushing you further to the point of resolve.

If he could kill his clones - literal versions of himself - then what would stop him from doing the same to you? Even if you remained alive, would you have to continue to tolerate being exposed to such grotesque horrors?

It was simply better to break things off, before you no longer had the option to.

Breakfast.

The first meal of the day, and the last meal you’d share with your boyfriend.

“Dottore.”

“Yes?” The Doctor’s head jerked up immediately from where he was chewing. You could feel the undivided weight of all his attention sinking into you, and for a moment, you faltered. He was notorious for paying little mind to anyone else, and yet, he treated you with the utmost attentiveness. You steeled your resolve.

“I think… we should break up.”

Silence. Then, the grating scrape of cutlery against crockery.

“Why.”

Not a question, more of a demand. You gulped.

“Do you want me to be honest with you?”

“Yes. Is it something I did?”

“I can’t bear your experiments anymore, Dottore. They’ve gone too far, and I don’t think I can stomach living normally with you as if I don’t know the kind of things you do. Even worse, every day I’m wary that I might be your next test subject - whenever I walk into your lab, I wonder when I’ll be the one under your needles. It’s exhausting.”

Another beat of silence. You could see Dottore’s chest rising and falling at an increasingly fast pace, his jaw tensing.

“I would never, ever do that to you. It’s ridiculous that you’d even think that, and as for your prior reason… I can arrange for you to come to the lab less often…”

“So you’re just going to cover my eyes and act like you’re not doing anything with those experiments? I just can’t be ignorant here, nor can I trust you. If you can get rid of your clones so easily, then what am I? What value do I hold-“

“Those creations do not even compare to you.” Dottore finally snapped, slamming his hand down on the table. You flinched, and he felt as though his lung capacity had been halved. His head spun in tandem with the rapid tightening of his heart, his mouth twisting into a scowl.

It hurt Dottore, realising that you didn’t trust him. That all those fond, intimate memories together were just you acting out of fear - or at least, the most recent ones were. It hurt, beyond anything Dottore thought he could inflict on his patients. And even worse, you were frightened of him. The light shaking of your shoulders and the way you flinched were enough indication.

The Doctor enjoyed seeing his victims become terrified, but that same terror on you almost made him feel like he’d been the one stabbed with a scalpel. Foolishly, he’d fallen victim to his own maniacal research tendencies.

“Listen, I didn’t mean to scare you. I just meant to say… that you can trust me.” Dottore raised his hand towards you to cup your cheek, wincing when you avoided the action.

“I tried to, I really did. But I don’t think I can do it anymore.”

“My love, please.”

The second harbinger was begging. What a strange sight.

“Let me go, Dottore.” You murmured shakily. You saw hesitation, hurt, and anger flit through those vermilion eyes you’d used to love. But that love you held for him had only smouldered into disgust and fear.

“… Then go. Get out of my sight.” Dottore hissed, his teeth clenching at the wary expression on your face.

It was painful, how you walked out without a second glance.

“My love…” Dottore whispered. He stared at the closed door, almost expecting you to return. He repeated the phrase, over and over to himself - his face contorting into an expression he himself couldn’t name. Was there truly an emotion as human as this? It was a twisted, unimaginable feeling the Doctor couldn’t categorise. The syllables came off his quivering lips, as though by uttering them he could make you come back.

But the truth was, your not-so-normal relationship was over. Perhaps, Dottore would return to the normality of his heartless experiments, and you’d return to the normality of a better fate than one you’d endure by his side.

He only regretted not being able to hold you more.

ZHONGLI

There were only two letters between you and your lover, but those two letters seemed to stretch wider every day - ‘I’, and ‘M’. The seemingly infinite synapse between mere ‘mortal’, and ‘immortal’.

Zhongli was undeniably a mortal vessel, but he as a being was not. He’d lived eons before you, loved and hated thousands. He’d experienced things you couldn’t even fathom, and yet, you couldn’t comprehend how he treated you as though your fleeting existence was the centre of his much larger world.

Whenever you looked into Zhongli’s amber eyes, heard his deep laugh, or felt his gentle caress, you could only feel insignificant. After all, he used to be a literal god. You couldn’t help the guilt that gnawed at your conscience, couldn’t stamp out the incessant feeling that he was too good for you, that you couldn’t compare to whatever lovers he’d had in the past.

“How’s the tea, darling?” Zhongli prompted. He sat with his back to the window, basking in an almost ethereal glow.

“Ah, I have yet to try it.” You shook yourself out of your thoughts to raise the cup in front of you. Zhongli only smiled warmly, but the gesture made your hand shake a little. You’d planned to break up with him today, and yet the way he still stared lovingly at you - full of infinite trust - made you feel terrible.

But how many others had he also treated this way? In his life, those others were probably far more special than you, possessing talents far more worthy of a god’s attention.

Suddenly, a shattering sound pierced your ears, and a scalding warmth set into your thigh. You looked down in a daze, before snapping out of it upon realising that you’d dropped the teacup.

“Are you okay?” Zhongli was at your side in an instant, mopping up the spilled tea and collecting the broken fragments of the cup.

“Yeah.” You gritted your teeth again. How dare someone as insignificant as you make Rex Lapis get down on his knees to clean the mess you’d made. It simply made you feel as though you didn’t deserve such a wonderful man at all.

“You’ve been distracted lately. Is there anything I should know about?” Zhongli asked slowly.

“No. Well, yes.” You stammered. You hadn’t planned this out very well, and your heart squeezed tighter.

“Go ahead. You know you can tell me anything, darling.”

A warm hand came to rest against your cheek. You closed your eyes, feeling tears build and slip down your face.

Zhongli wiped at your tears, holding your hands in your lap as he looked up at you worriedly - his thumbs tracing comforting circles on your knuckles. He thought of saying something, before deciding against it. He knew it was better to let you speak first.

“Let’s break up.” You blurted, feeling Zhongli’s fingers come to a complete stop.

“We can work through this, tell me why first. Has something been upsetting you?”

Your tears fell harder. He still showed you so much kindness, never jumping to any conclusions.

“I feel like I don’t deserve you. You’re too good for me, it makes me feel guilty that someone like me can have you.” You sobbed.

“Darling, you know it makes me happy to just spend time with you. That in itself is fair exchange, no?”

“But what makes that so special? You’ve lived for so long, you could’ve done this with anyone else, and you probably have. Who am I in comparison to someone like Guizhong?”

Through your blurred vision, you could still see Zhongli’s form kneeled by your side. He seemed to be choosing his next words carefully.

“You and her are both special, in your own way. Why don’t you calm down a little first? I can pour you some more tea.”

“I’m so selfish, Zhongli. I really don’t think I can stay with you.”

“Do you really want to leave that badly?”

Your heart twisted. You didn’t want to leave. You wanted to stay in his warm embrace, his soft understanding gaze. And yet, you couldn’t bring yourself to.

“… Yes.”

“Very well then. You know I won’t stop you, because I just want what’s best for you.”

The light grip on your hands released, and as you stood up everything seemed to spin.

“Thank you… for everything.” You murmured, stealing one last glance at the man you loved - before leaving.

Zhongli remained where he was for some time. In his life, many things came to an end, but this hurt a little more. When Guizhong had left him, it was due to her passing - the youthful Rex Lapis had found someone to blame, to ventilate his grief. But the most crude fact in this situation was that you were still alive, and had chosen to leave him of your own volition. Zhongli himself had made this happen.

However, an archon’s most prized trait was impartiality. Therefore, Zhongli knew that he had to maintain indifference. He refused to let himself chase after you, or force you into anything. It was only unfair, if an immortal were to impose such a fate onto a mortal.

And so, he could only watch as you faded from his life, like the cyclic ebb of waves on an ocean shore.

[miryum]

Hi, Idk if someone already requested this, but I'll request it. Can you please do a Newt Au where in he's part of a mob and the reader is a college professor and she saw Newt's mob kill someone or something like that and Newt pretended to be a student in the university where the reader is working to assassinate her, but he fell in love with her something like that.

I don’t know how I feel about the whole teacher x student thing but weirdly I’m fine with the mob part. 😅 That’s a fanfic writer for you. 

Warning: OOC for everyone (they’re in the mob, it’ll be dark), mob stuff including mentions of murder, guns, a tiny bit of stalking, sexual innuendos, someone being beaten up, happy mob ending, my thoughts are kinda scrambled and all over the place (sorry about that). Also, idk shit about being a professor or the mob so half of this will be complete guessing. (And there’s a part that’s a little unbelievable but I didn’t know how else to write it)

When the dean informed you that a new student would be joining your class, you didn’t expect a man your age who looked like he was a son of a CEO to march into your class. “Hello,” he walked right up to your desk and stuck out his hand for you to shake. Hesitantly, you shook his hand. When new students enrolled in your class, they usually just slunk to the back of your class and didn’t engage for the first couple of weeks. It also didn’t help that this new student was very handsome. 

“I’m Isaac,” he introduced himself. Isaac was wearing khaki pants and a professional- looking sweater, an unusual choice for a laid- back college student.

“Hi! It’s nice to meet you, Isaac. I’m Professor L/n. Welcome to European History. I hope you enjoy it.” Realising his hand was still in yours, you quickly pulled away. “The syllabus is online on my website where I’ll always post information and homework assignments. Usually, the only homework is a bit of light reading unless we’re working on a project.” Isaac nodded, studying you in a way that made you clear your throat and use your teacher glare on him. “Obviously, you enrolled a little late in the semester, but I have your transcript here and luckily, we’re basically picking up right where you left off. We’re finishing up the Middle Ages before we move onto the Renaissance. In any other class, I would offer you any seat, but this group of students are a little picky on where they sit.” 

Your eyes grow kind at the mention of your first class of the day. It was a mixture of all cliques and groups, but yet, meaningful discussions and debates still took place, pushing against the stereotypes of college. The students interacted well, bouncing ideas back and forth.

“Which seat would you recommend?” Isaac tilted his head and you had to remind yourself that you were his superior, not the other way around. 

“Well,” you looked around the room, visualising the students. Some were already starting to trickle in, eyes flickering towards you. “I would sit you in the first row, but that’s a little intimidating at first. How about third row all the way to the left? And hey, if you need anything you can ask me. I know moving to a new college is overwhelming, so seriously, if you need any help, I’m here.”

“Sounds perfect. Thanks.” Isaac shot you a grin and strode back to the seat you suggested. Some students looked around, confused that he was a student. They had expected him to be another faculty member. Isaac leaned back in the uncomfortable college seat, not taking out any materials of any sort. You stared at him a bit longer, wondering about his past. And why did it seem like he walked with a limp?

Once the rest of the students filed in, you started class, pulling up a series of slides for them to take notes on. Most students scribbled furiously, raising hands to ask questions or to clarify something. Today, however, you found yourself a bit distracted, having trouble remembering certain parts of the lecture or needed someone to repeat their question. You caught yourself sneaking glances at Isaac more than once and was surprised to find that he was always staring back. He still had no notebook or pencil out and wasn’t even watching the slides you clicked through. His gaze was always fixed on you. The coy smile on his face only grew whenever your eyes flickered to him. 

Once class was over, much to your relief, the new student simply whisked away, not giving you another second of his day. While this was normal for college students, especially if they had another class they needed to attend, you thought (or maybe it was wishful thinking) that maybe he would stay. Quickly, you shook the thought out of your head, firmly reminding yourself that he was a student. 

Isaac, on the other hand, walked briskly down the street, tugging at his sweater. He was much more used to a button- up suit and tie. He rounded the corner, seeing a large black car sitting idly in front of a coffee shop. Making sure no one was watching, Isaac quickly opened the door to the back and slipped in. 

Inside, sat the notorious mobster Thomas Mazer and his third- in- command, Minho Glads. “Hello, Newton.” Thomas drawled, lips flicking up into a grin. “How was your first day at school?” 

Newt rolled his eyes, used to the teasing. “It was fine, Thomas,” he sighed, “I still don’t see why we’re doing this.” 

“Because we can’t have any loose ends.” Thomas explained for the umpteenth time. “Y/n L/n saw messy Minho over here,” he jerked his head towards Minho who gaped, “attempt to murder someone. We’re thankful she hasn’t already gone to the police.” 

“I would’ve finished the job, too,” Minho growled, “if it wasn’t for her scream.” 

“She ruined a month- long organisation,” Thomas said calmly. “We’ve taken people out for less. This’ll get the message through that we’re not to be messed with. Hopefully, Ava and Ratman will keep their distance.”

Newt glared, having heard this a thousand times over. “But why me? Why not Gally or Alby? Hell, even Chuck! At least he looks like a college student.”

Thomas rubbed his temples, Newt having been protesting ever since Thomas brought up the assignment. “Because Gally and Alby were with Minho that night and Chuck is too much of a loose cannon. We both know he’s too young and could mess this all up. You’re someone I trust, has experience, and can get the job done.” He punctuated the last four words.

“But why not a sniper? Brenda could easily do it.” Newt asked. “Why me? Why do I have to go to fucking college?”

“A sniper would be too obvious,” Thomas said. “A broken window with a bullet in her head? Too suspicious. No, we need this done in a way that it can look accidental or suicidal. Only a person on the inside.” 

“And why not Teresa?” Newt kept coming up with ideas and people. “She’s a girl. And actually likes learning.” 

“God damn it, Newt!” Thomas yelled, sending a jump to Newt’s heart though he kept his composure. “I don’t know! Why not Teresa?! I chose you and the mission has already started! I didn’t have time to go over every single idea or option! We need this done soon! We can’t send Brenda in now because a new student in L/n’s class and then her dead the next day would be too coincidental! Just do the damn assignment.” Thomas shook his head. “I don’t know why this is so hard for you. You’ve done so much worse. Just take out this woman. It’s not difficult.” 

Thomas, with bags under his eyes, turned to stare out the window, his actions meaning the end of the conversation. After a long minute, Minho muttered out, “Was she hot?” 

Newt huffed a chuckle. “Yeah,” he conceded. 

“Thought so.” Minho smiled at Newt in a way only life- long best friends could. “Her file was nice.” He drew out the word.

“I just don’t get it, Thomas.” Newt turned back to his boss. “She’s spotless. Hasn’t done a bad thing her entire life. I’m sure a little… persuasion could convince her to bury this memory. Maybe she doesn’t even know what she saw. She has no way of knowing it was Minho.” 

Minho shrugged, making a high- pitched noise that disagreed. “Hate to tell it to you bud, but I’m pretty sure this chick knows it was us.” 

“But as Thomas said, she hasn’t gone to the police. Let’s just watch her for a couple days and if she doesn’t go to the feds, then we’ll simply sweep this up under the rug.”

“Why do you care?” Thomas frowned. “Why are you protecting her life?” 

Newt quickly responded. “She’s not working for Ratman. Why take an innocent life? Isn’t that why you built the Maze up? To stop WICKED from doing just that?”

Thomas hummed. “Touche,” he finally relented. “Alright. Let’s monitor her for a month and if this all goes away, so be it. But,” he leaned in close to Newt, his stare piercing into his soul, a warning if Newt ever saw one. “If there is one scrap- one crumb of evidence she’ll turn us in, you’re finishing the job.” Thomas sat back in his seat and said casually, “This is why I like you around, Newton. To rein me back during times like these.” Newt’s gaze flickered to Minho, sharing a glance. They walked on a thin line in their choice of occupation. However, Minho and Newt had worked with Thomas for many long years and felt close and comfortable with him. Thomas relied on them for important decisions and they, including Teresa, are the few who could change his mind. 

“I almost feel bad for her,” Newt ventured carefully. “L/n seemed nice when I talked to her- made me feel welcome. Still, I don’t like going to college.” He shuddered. “Those kids have no idea what the real world is like.” 

“I’m sorry,” Minho interrupted. “Could we go back to the part where Newt complimented someone? When does that ever happen?” 

Thomas chuckled and Newt kicked Minho in the shin. “Whatever,” Newt grumbled. “At least you don’t have to mingle with children who think the whole world revolves around them.”

Minho laughed loudly. “That’s true. But seriously, how was European History?”

Newt groaned. “Why do I need to know which king waged war on whatever king?! It’s stupid!” 

“You’ll grow to like it.” Minho chuckled. “Soon you’ll be able to name every duchess and knight in Europe and their affairs. It also helps that the professor is nice eye- candy. I have some fantasies she could fulfill.” 

“Minho,” Newt’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t talk about her like that. She’s not a toy. She’s- she’s just a victim of circumstance. Another person we have to eliminate.” 

Thomas cocked an eyebrow, Minho squinting briefly at Newt and then looking quickly at Thomas. Why was Newt defending this random woman he had just met that day? They had all made jokes like that before. Hell, Newt had one of the dirtiest minds of them all, though he rarely shared his gutter thoughts. 

Something about Professor L/n had already changed Newt, though none of them knew how much she truly would change him.

**

Walking back from your classroom, you passed a dark alleyway. It was just a small walk to your apartment and you had made the short commute everyday for a couple years. Why would this night be any different? 

The universe had different plans for you as shouts soon reached your ears, along with the sound of groans and punches landing. 

Against your better judgement, your teacher personality and worry kicked in and you quickly lit up your phone flashlight. “Hello?” You called into the darkness, fully intending to break up a student fight and then file the paperwork in the morning. 

The sound of violence stopped immediately and when you lifted the light a little higher you saw something you knew wasn’t just a student fight. 

Two men in suits were restraining a third while a fourth had his fist raised as if to punch him again. The man being held down already had a black eye, a cut lip, blood matting his hairline, and a smattering of other bruises and cuts. The man who had, you assumed, threw the punches suddenly stood, calling out, “Hey, lady,” while reaching slowly into his suit. 

At the time, the gun didn’t fully register with you. A small little part of your brain simply screamed DANGER! so, you ran. When a gunshot rang out behind you, you only ran faster, letting out an instinctive scream.

Thankfully, your apartment wasn’t that far away. Running up the steps and locking the door sharply behind you, you took a sigh of relief. A second later, the irrational part of you started dragging over a drawer and blockading your door, just in case.

Dialling your dad, you let your heart calm as the phone started to ring. On the second ring, your dad picked up.

“Hey! What’s up!”

“Dad! I need to tell you something!” 

From your panicked state and your hurried retelling of what just happened, you dad did the last thing you thought he would do. “Okay sweetheart, I know this is going to sound crazy, but you can’t go to the police.”

“What the fu-”

“Y/n, listen to me. I think you might have just encountered the mob and I want you to be as safe as possible. A little while back, a buddy of mine saw something similar. He went to the police and then a couple of days later, he was dead. If it is the mob, then going to the police will only confirm for them that you need to be taken out.”

“Dad,” you started reasoning with him. “Come on, this isn’t a movie. The mob?”

“Y/n.” Your dad’s voice turned strict and unyielding. “Shut up for a moment and listen to me. I don’t want you to die. If nothing unusual happens in the next week, then you can go to the police. But if you're sure of what you saw, then lying low is the safest way to go. Be on the lookout and call me if anything bad or suspicious happens. And you should probably stay away from the internet for a bit. Be cautious. I love you. Do you feel safe tonight?”

“Uh, sure. Yeah. Love you too.”

“Okay. Call about anything.”

~Click!~

With your phone still pressed to your ear, you listened to the emptiness. Disbelief entered your system. Why was your dad so scared? Why did he immediately think it was the mob? Should you listen to him? And why did you have to get messed up in this? 

What did a college professor do to get wound up in this? 

You didn’t get much sleep that night. 

The next morning, you got an email that a new student would be joining your class in a week.

**

Eating your take out Chinese food because you definitely didn’t feel like cooking that night, you thought back on the day- specifically, the new student. Something about Isaac struck you. You don’t know whether the feeling was good or bad. Half of you wanted to get to know the older, mysterious student more but the other half warned you that something bigger was at play. Twirling your glass of wine, beer, champagne, or whatever alcohol you had off-handily chosen, you reminded yourself that Isaac was a student. While you had taught many older people before, some even older than you, you had never taught someone who looked like they could’ve just hired a private tutor or simply used their daddy’s money to coast through life. Something in your gut told you that something was off. Planning on playing it safe, your mind kept wandering back to that one night a week or two ago. It had been so terrifying. You wondered if the men had run after you. Did they try to enter the building? Your dad had warned you to- 

Your thoughts were cut off by the ringing of your home office telephone. You pressed the decline button, letting your thoughts thankfully shatter.

Taking a gulp from your drink, you listened to the message as it played to you. 

“Hello Professor L/n,” Isaac’s voice rang out through your apartment. It sounded clear and suave, nothing at all like a student’s. “This is Isaac from your first class. I was wondering if I could stop by office hours to... talk a little bit.”

Fuelled by alcohol and your dad’s words in your ears, you pressed the button that accepted his call. “Hello Mr. Johns.”

“Professor L/n, I’m happy you picked up.” Isaac said, sounding somewhat surprised. 

“As it’s after office hours, I’m going to be quite blunt,” you stated. “What do you need?”

Isaac laughed. It was a nice sound. “I was wondering if I could stop by during your office hours to get some help on the homework.”

“Mr. Johns, you don’t have to call me and ask for my permission to do so. But yes, you may stop by.”

“Can I ask a question?”

“Shoot.”

“How’d you get to be a professor so quickly? You look so young.” You could almost hear the flirtation in his voice. 

“Compliments will get you nowhere, Mr. Johns,” you warned. “But to answer your question, I’m an assistant professor. I’m working my way up.”

“Well, if I may say, you're an excellent assistant professor. I think you deserve the title of lead professor.”

“That’s not what it’s called. But thank you. Mr. Johns, why did you transfer to my class?”

There was a pause at the end of the line. “Because I moved colleges.”

“Yeah, no.” You clicked your tongue, not believing him. “Too many coincidences have been happening lately. If you want to meet up, we can meet in the public library. And why don’t you wear something comfy for a change? I’ve been around enough college students to know that most of them don’t wear khakis and sweater vests. Goodbye, Mr. Johns.”

“Professor-” you hung up before he had a chance to say anything. Albeit against a teacher’s code of conduct, you were a little tipsy and just wanted to go to bed. 

On the other end of the line, Newt groaned and slammed his head on the table. “Wow,” Minho huffed out a burst of air. “You are bad at acting.” 

Newt looked to Thomas who simply said, “Go to the library, wear something comfortable, and get her to trust you enough so you can see if she’ll rat us out.”

“She’s my ‘professor’,” Newt argued. “She knows she can’t get intimate with a student. Even I know that’s weird.”

“You don’t have to get intimate.” Thomas waved him away. “Just get her to trust you. Be her student. Actually learn something for that empty brain of yours.” Newt glared at him as Minho let out a laugh. 

“Fine,” New agreed. “But what qualifies as comfy?”

**

Browsing the shelves, you heard someone clear their throat from behind you. You turned to see Isaac dressed in low- drooping grey sweatpants and a tight fitting white shirt, a gold chain hanging loosely from his neck. His blond hair was ruffled, floofing up over his forehead in a way that made you want to smooth it down.

“My eyes are up here, professor.” Isaac chuckled lowly. 

“Gosh, I’m sorry,” you shook your head. He’s a student! You had to remind yourself. No matter if he was your age and looked very hot in that outfit, this was entirely against every single rule. You would immediately get fired with an ugly mark forever barring you from teaching ever again. “But that isn’t exactly what I meant by comfy.”

“What did you mean?” Isaac’s tone was nothing like it was in the classroom. It seemed more meek and unsure, a small smile gracing his lips.

“I don’t know, some jeans? A sweater?” You shrugged, pushing your hands into the pockets of your own sweater. “Hell, you’ve seen what I wear around the classroom.”

“True,” Isaac laughed. 

“Where would you like to start?” You asked.

“Honestly, I don’t know.” He rubbed the back of his neck, letting you get an impressive view of his biceps. “Maybe some of the things you were covering before I transferred?”

You nodded, “Got it. Come on.” You led Isaac to a row of dusty books that looked like they hadn’t been checked out in a while. “Here you go.”

You dropped two large books into his arms. Isaac grunted slightly under the weight and let out an embarrassed chuckle. “How do you lug these around all the time?”

“Practice. A reader is always stronger than they look, Mr. Johns.” You smiled coyly.

“Um, can you call me Newt? It’s what all my friends call me.” Isaac asked hesitantly. 

“Friends?” You shot a sarcastic look at him. “I didn’t know the son of a CEO had friends.”

“Wow, you’re cruel for a teacher. And that’s not who I am.” Newt laughed along with you.

“Where’d you get the name Newt?” You asked before handing him another book. “You like the lizards?”

“No,” he explained, “I’m named after Isaac Newton and my friends just took to calling me Newt.”

“Oh, that’s very clever, Newt.” You thrust more books into his arms.

Newt stumbled under the weight and grimaced, “Do we really need all these?”

“No, we only needed the first two. I was just wondering how long you could hold out for.” 

Newt's shocked face made you laugh. His faux betrayal slowly morphed into laughing alongside you, setting down the other books on a cart before following you to a table.

The next couple of hours were spent with you giving him mini lessons and Newt scribbling it all down in his spiralled notebook. You started on the opposite side of the table from him, but after a frustrating rant, you ended up on the same side as Newt, hurriedly flipping through pages and citing evidence that backed up the explanation no one asked for. In the beginning, Newt would try and write down all that you said, wanting to immortalise your words, a hand running through his hair that you eventually swatted down, inserting a comment about how his hair was too fluffy that made him smile. However, after a while, when you turned the pages, rambling on about one king or running to get another book about some obscure war, Newt would just stare and watch as you delved into the world you cared so much about. His eyes sparked with silent happiness as you waved your hares around, trying to capture the long lost history in words. 

After a particularly long winded ramble, you caught yourself and took a deep breath, a sheepish grin on your face. “Geez, I am so sorry. I get a little… passionate about history.”

“That’s clear to see. But I like it!” Newt nodded, leaning a bit closer to you. “It shows that you should be a history professor. It shows that you care about the subject- as all teachers should!” 

“Thank you.” You bowed your head. “But it wasn’t always seen that way. There used to be a lot of teasing in high school.” 

“But you made it now!” Newt tried to encourage you. “Where are your former peers? Not making… How much do you make?”

“I’m not telling you my salary.” You pointed a non- threatening finger at him.

“Okay, whatever you want.” He held up his hands, surrendering to you. “But seriously, thank you for taking time out of your day when you certainly could’ve been doing much more important things than help me.”

“Of course. Helping students is my number one priority.”

Newt gnawed on his lip, hesitating in an unsettling way. “Can I tell you something?” 

Your eyes narrowed. “Yes, but I should tell you that if I learn of or believe that you are threatening serious harm to another person, I am obligated to report that. This can be in the form of telling the person who you have threatened, contacting the police or placing you into hospitalisation. If there is evidence that you are a danger to yourself and I believe that you are likely to kill yourself unless protective measure are taken, I may be obligated to seek hospitalisation for you or to contact family members or others who can help provide protection.” 

“You have that memorised, huh?” Newt’s chuckle seemed like forced sadness. “I’m sorry, Professor, but I need to go.” Spinning out of his chair, Newt whirled away, hands shoved in pockets and eyes cast downward. 

“Newt!” You called out. But he didn’t turn. Why did he leave? Obviously he had something to tell you that applied to those scenarios. But what?

**

A couple of weeks had gone by, you watching Newt leave quickly from class every day. Sometimes he simply didn’t show up. After a while, you had enough. Making you worry was one thing, but skipping class and falling behind on grades was another thing entirely. 

“Mr. Johns, see me after class.” The cold infliction in your voice made some students snicker, just like back in primary school. Meeting your gaze, Newt knew that if he disobeyed there would be consequences. 

“Yes Professor L/n?” Newt saddled up to you.

“Sit down,” you commanded him, directing him to a chair. “I’m going to be frank; who are you and what is your secret? Why are you here?” 

“I can’t tell you.” 

“Shut up.” You rolled your eyes. “I’m talking to you as a friend, not a teacher. We’ve both known that you’re different from the other students. Maybe not in a good way, but definitely different. I can assure you that I will not reveal anything you say to anyone. I would like you to be completely honest with me right now.” To bring the point home, you stood from your desk and sat with him on the other side. Equals- not student and teacher. 

“Do you remember the night when you heard the gunshot?” You tensed up at his words, subconsciously knowing where this was going. “That was my friend. He was the one with the gun. The man he was beating up was someone named Randall Spilker, a hit-man for a mob called WICKED. They’ve been terrorising this city for years. Another friend’s father created a group called the Maze. My friend took it over a while ago and appointed me second- in- command. Our mission was to make sure WICKED stopped hurting innocent civilians, such as yourself. However, it was clear that all of this had gotten out of control. A year ago, WICKED’s leader, a woman named Ava Paige, made a decision that ultimately doomed everyone unless we stepped in. Unfortunately, in the midst of stopping her, you got in the way.” He slowly looked at you, analysing your every movement. “I was sent in to kill you. No loose ends. That’s how Thomas said it. We were so close to stopping Ava Paige and WICKED. We couldn’t afford to have you screw it up for us. Clearly, it didn’t go as planned. I found out that I may be in love with you.” You reeled back. Newt couldn’t meet your eyes, and continued muttering, “I’m not exactly sure when it started. Maybe it was how you welcomed me into the class. How you agreed to help me even though I’m older than you and a little arrogant.” 

“Just a little?” You asked.

“A little,” Newt pressed his thumb and pointer finger so close that they were almost touching. “Just a little arrogant. Or maybe how you run into class apologising because you were up late last night reading and didn’t get that much sleep. How your eyes light up when you’re talking about something you’re passionate about. How you care so much for this job and your students. Or maybe it was that one day when you were sick and just spent half of class rambling on about whichever TV show you were watching at that point. And then you drank so much NyQuil that you nearly passed out. I don’t know exactly when I started falling for you, but I did. I fell. I fell so hard for you.”

Newt stopped talking, letting you process. He awaited your words, his tongue brushing out to wet his chapped lips. Running a hand through his hair, something you now knew meant that he was stressed, he didn’t say anything. 

“So,” you puffed out a burst of air. “You’re a mobster who’s part of the mafia that almost had me murdered who’s now in love with me, your teacher. What do you want me to do with that information?”

“Well, technically, you were never my teacher. Isaac Johns doesn’t exist. My real name is Newton Stead. Or Newt. I wasn’t lying about that part.” 

“I’m sorry, your last name is Stead?”

“And an ‘I love you too’ would be nice.” Newt shrugged. 

You let out a brief chuckle, rubbing your temples. “I don’t know what you want me to say. It’s entirely against the code of conduct for me to have feelings towards a student and I could get fired for this. And you’re in the mob! Newton, don’t you know how terrifying that is? I could never allow myself to become close to you due to the fear of you getting killed.” 

“So… you do have feelings for me?” Newt’s lips quirked up into a smile. “You’re not denying it.” 

“You’re right, I’m not denying it.” You laughed loudly, not fully comprehending everything. 

“So you love me?” 

“Maybe not love you, Mr. Jo- Mr. Stead. Oh my god, that’s such a bad last name! But, I’d be willing to go on a date with you. But you’d have to unenroll in university immediately. Now that I know you’re in the mob and that you don’t actually need my education, in order for us to go on a date and for me to not lose my job, you need to drop out of university.”

“Are you asking for me to derail my education just to pursue you?” Newt asked, aghast. 

“Yes, that’s exactly what I’m asking.” You stifled a laugh, trying to look serious. 

“Well, you know,” Newt leaned a bit closer to you, making your heart race. “There’s a lot of money in my line of work. If you want, you could quit your job and I can support you. You won’t need to ask for anything. Anything you want, at all, I can get it for you. What’s your favourite food? Favourite brand? You can have all the clothes you want. I’ll make you feel as comfortable as possible. Cause I care for you, Y/n.” 

“It’s so weird hearing you call me by my first name.” You evaded the question until Newt gently took your chin in his fingers, lifting it up to meet his gaze. With a kind smile, he extracted more words and confessions out of you. “I can never leave my job. I love teaching. But…” Newt grew hopeful. “Maybe, if things turn out well with us, then I could think about moving in with you. However!” Your voice raised, shutting down the complete look of love sickness Newt had on his face. “If we ever do move in together, you’re not to spoil me with your money that you probably swindled.” 

“First off, it’s not swindled money,” he pointed a finger at you, smiling coyly. “Second, if you’re my girl then I’m going to spoil you all I want.” He punctuated the last three words. “I’m talking about jewellery, clothes,” he ticked things off on his fingers, “the best food money can buy, and maybe even some… underclothes?”

“Oh my god, Mr. Stead! You are still my student!” You cried out, slapping him lightly. 

“I promise, I’m going to go to admissions right now, drop out, ask you out on a proper date, and while I’m spoiling you I’m going to have all your things moved to my apartment so you’ll have no choice but to move in with me so I can love you forever.” 

“You really are a hopeless romantic, aren’t you Newt?” 

“Only because of you, love.”

[icarus-suraki]

Bat, Banshee, Macabre?

Bat - What’s your favorite creature associated with Halloween?

It’s pretty “basic bitch” but probably black cats. I love them. They’re spooky, they’re soft, they look like little fluffy bit of The Void and The Void stares back because The Void is hungry and wants chimken. But they seem to elegant and self-possessed and also sometimes goofy as hell. As I recall, in the story of The King of Cats, the cat who became king was a very long, very tall black cat. Also, I remember this interview with Norman Reedus where he talked about his son’s black cat that was named Eye in the Dark and I absolutely love that name. 

I know there’s a lot of talk about how black cats (and dogs) don’t get adopted as quickly, &c &c. But I know there’s a cohort of people, myself included, who will adopt them and happily.

Close second(s) are crows and ravens. Always greet crows, ravens, and magpies when you see them, lest something bad happen. It’s very important. But they’re just so clever and yet so dark. Like black cats, there’s something elegant about them (and yet they can also be total goofs). And, sure, this is partially because I do like The Crow. I’ll admit that too.

Big black dogs are good too, though I’m more of a cat person than a dog person. Still, I remember drawing this elaborate colored pencil artwork sometime early in college of an IWTV Claudia-like girl wearing a well-known Moi-Meme-Moitie hat with a giant black dog behind her. I think I scanned it and uploaded it to my old dA and titled it “Young Miss Baskerville” and I think I later tried to write some Godchild fanfic based on it.

Banshee - Have you ever had a paranormal encounter? If so, do tell!

I wish. Oh how I wish! I’ve even spent the night in an (ostensibly) haunted castle in York, UK, that had a Grey Lady and nothing happened. I’ve spent the night in an (ostensibly) haunted hotel here in the US that had a haunted elevator and nothing happened. There were haunted dorms at my undergrad and I never got to live there nor did anything happen when I visited. You have no idea how disappointed I am.

The closest thing I have is seeing what would probably be referred to as a Shadow Person. I’ve told this story before but here we go: it was evening in either spring or fall because the sun was going down a lot earlier than in summer and I remember the weather felt more like spring or fall. My mom had sent me down the hill behind my neighbors’ and friends’ house to bring up my brother’s bike. As I’ve just gotten over the crest of the hill, I’m looking down this wide path of grass--probably 8 or 10 feet across--with a tall hedge on the left, and a suburban forest on the right. As I’m just about to walk down the hill (and I can see my brother’s red kid’s BMX bike in the gloom), I see what looks like a dark gray figure, slightly hunched over, wearing a trench coat with the collar up and a fedora--yes, just like Peter Lorre in M--hurry out of the trees and into the hedge. Of course I turned around and ran since I thought it was a burglar or something and got my mom. I think I just told her I thought I saw someone down there. She didn’t think much of it but went with me to get the bike. 

I told her about this years later and she said that she’s seen the man in the hat too, though she saw him walking down one of the side aisles at church. Odd, but probably not paranormal. It’s more likely some kind of human brain thing and pattern recognition based on other circumstances. (I want to believe in the paranormal but I’ve been schooled against it and it’s hard to get over that.)

I guess the other things are some hypnagogic hallucinations--not sleep paralysis, but just hallucinations. I actually enjoyed inducing them as a kid lol. I ought to take that up again.

Macabre - What’s your favorite part of spooky season?

Costumes. Costumes. I am a closeted eccentric due to internalized capitalism. I played dress-up and pretend all day every day as a kid (or at least as much as I could) but it gets harder and harder to play dress-up as one gets older. There are bullies, mean classmates, disapproving adults, judgmental employers and colleagues... So any opportunity I have to wear amazing, strange, odd things that make me look and feel like I’m a visitor from some other place, I will take it. Halloween, cosplay, and dressing up for conventions are my current avenues at the moment and I would love to find more. I was able to dress up for Halloween when I worked in the libraries too. It’s a shame the LARP scene around here sucks and the closest ren faire is about 3 hours away. Really, I ought to reconnect with the gothic lolita community in the area. That would be a lovely all-year Halloween-like opportunity.

TL;DR: COSTUMES. 

Spooky Season Asks!

[tricksters-captain]

Benny Watts/The Queens Gambit imagines - From Pawn to Pen Part 1

AN: So I watched the Queens Gambit in one day and I am officially obsessed with it. And how dare it bring back my crush on Thomas Brodie Sangster... Due to this... Have a fanfic...

Overall Summary: You’re a young journalist for Chess Review, with a love for chess and a desire for knowledge. One day at a tournament, you come across the famous Benny Watts...

Pairing(s): Benny Watts x reader

Word Count: 2,504

Warnings: (I know nothing about chess except what the show taught me so bare that in mind), none really

Another state, another tournament. 

Your work had you travel round to even the smallest of Chess Tournaments to try and get the dirt on up and coming chess players or already existing champions. 

You inhaled the familiar smell of a hotel lobby, taking in your surroundings as people bustled about the place. 

It was one of the bigger tournaments fortunately and so you were hoping to run into some champions which tend to give you better pages which equals better pay. 

You walked up to the front desk, your eyes scanning the small tables as far as the eye could see where chess boards were being studied in case you recognised any chess players. 

You did but they were all the standard normies that showed their faces at these events. No one noteworthy yet. 

“Can I help you?” The slim man behind the desk with slicked back red hair flashed you a toothy smile as he greeted you. 

“(Y/n)(Y/l/n).” You introduced yourself and the man soon flicked through his booking sheets to find your reservation. 

“Room 209. If you just head down this hall to the elevators, it’s on the second floor.” The man pointed towards the elevators where you managed to spot the flash of bright auburn hair entering one of them. 

Beth Harmon. 

You smiled with relief as you started to sew the piece in your head already. 

“Thank you.” You took the key and made your way down to elevators. 

As the elevator door dinged open, some commotion by the entrance of the lobby caught your attention. 

The peak of leather through the crowd told you who it was. 

Benny Watts. 

Even better. You now had two top chess players you could focus on. 

You decided to let the celebrity champion settle into his hotel before you mobbed him as a journalist and you also needed to freshen up after travelling. 

You travelled so much that you barely bothered with your apartment. It was mostly rented out to other people besides holidays like Christmas where you actually could return home. 

Everything you had was basically in two large suitcases which you dragged across the United States and Europe following chess players around. 

You mainly liked travelling around Europe. You previously worked for a Parisian chess magazine but this year you took an offer to work for Chess Review which brought you back to the states. 

You had mostly done smaller tournaments all year round so hadn’t had the pleasure in meeting Benny Watts or Beth Harmon yet. 

Benny Watts had been one of the biggest names in chess for years now and Beth Harmon was a rapid rising star. 

You knew this would be your big break in Chess Review to stop being handed the small tournaments and to document the important ones like the US Open. 

You opened the door to your hotel room and smiled when you saw how nice it actually was. 

You had stayed in some crap holes recently. 

You dumped your suitcases to one side and immediately turned on the shower so you could relax your cramped muscles and feel a bit cleaner.

You undressed and let the hot water cascade down your back, covering your hair and face as you tipped your head backwards. 

You took your time in there before getting out and blow drying your hair. 

By the time you had washed, done your hair and make up again; it was time to pick a dress for the evening so you could go get something to eat. 

You went for your favourite navy blue skirt and cream sweater, both hugged you nicely but were still modest, before slipping on some shoes. 

You took a small purse to put your room key in and then left for the restaurant/bar that was in the hotel.

The restaurant was filled with chess players and spectators all buzzing with excitement about this weekend. 

You managed to find a small table away from the majority of the hustle and tucked yourself away with your notepad. 

You liked being a fly on the wall most of the time. You enjoyed observing, studying and learning about people. ‘People watching’ as some would call it. 

The waiter brought over the cocktail you had ordered along with some grapes, cheese and crackers to munch on. 

After writing some of the thoughts down that came to you in the shower, you looked up to see who was around you. 

There was no sign of Beth Harmon which wasn’t unusual as she was known for practising in her room before tournaments. 

You scanned the groups before your eyes stopped on him. Benny Watts. 

His slick blonde hair fell slightly by his eye, his hat on his lap as he talked to the surrounding fans and admirers. 

The man loved talking about himself and loved talking about Chess even more. 

You watched him for a moment, the way his eyes were alight as he laughed amongst his peers. 

Benny must've felt someone was watching him because a second later, his eyes met yours for a brief moment. 

You looked down and pretended to write something down as Benny turned his chin this time to look at you again. 

You were used to being invisible and in that moment you felt extremely seen. 

However, the man didn’t move from his chair or even look another time after that. 

You popped a grape in your mouth before taking a large sip of your drink. You’d have to talk to him tomorrow and you knew that but for the first time, you actually felt the bubbles of nerves rise in stomach.

“May I buy you a drink?” A voice brought you from your thoughts and you looked up to see Henry Cavilla, one of the regular American chess players whom you believed you’d seen only two months before in Denver. 

“I’m fine, thank you.” You declined politely but the man sat down anyway, joining you at your table. 

“I insist.” Henry’s smile spread widely on his lips as he waved a waiter over. “I saw you in Denver. You’re a journalist, am I right?” 

“Yes. For Chess Review.” You had to hide your irritation at his boldness.

“How long you been doing that?” The man asked, 

“Well I’ve been a journalist for three years, but I’ve only been at Chess Review for 6 months.” You admitted honestly as the man ordered two drinks for the table. 

“What’s a beautiful girl like you doing reporting on chess? Thought you’d be more into what Beth Harmon was wearing than her Sicilian defence.” 

“I could ask you a similar thing? What’s a mediocre, chino wearing, middle aged   misogynist doing at a chess tournament where Beth Harmon and Benny Watts are playing?” You couldn’t help but let the words slip out of your mouth, slapping the man right round the face. 

You watched the man’s smile drop following a small burst of laughter echoing through the restaurant. 

Your head snapped round to see it was Benny Watts laughing, staring directly at your table. He must’ve heard what you said despite the rest of the restaurant noise. 

“Listen here, sweetheart, you’re just a skirt hired to keep your boss man happy and to fuck the chess players into a one page interview so you can get your paycheck to fund your morning after pill from planned parenthood and buy yourself some clean panties you’d sooner have off anyways.” You hit a nerve with what you said and he seemed to hit one right back.   

You threw the two new drinks in the mans face, causing most of the restaurant to stop and stare at the commotion as he jumped to his feet to retaliate. 

You snatched your notebook and fled the scene before anything worse could happen or you get thrown out of the tournament all together. 

You fell back onto your bed, kicking your shoes off as you did. 

It wasn’t unusual for men to be putting you down, especially in the chess world and the journalist world but tonight you just weren't having any of it. 

You groaned as you pushed your hair out of your face, replaying the event in your head. The way everyone stared after you threw the drinks in his face. 

You did not need to be the centre of attention this weekend. 

You put yourself to bed with the television playing so you could stop scolding yourself in your head and distract yourself to finally get some sleep. 

The next morning you woke up early, getting ready quickly and making sure you had everything you needed for a full day of reporting. 

You skipped breakfast, only taking a black coffee before you entered the battle field.

The chess boards were still being set up and from across the room you spotted the familiar hair colour that belonged to Beth Harmon. 

“Beth? Beth Harmon?” You crossed the room to greet her. “I’m (Y/n)(Y/l/n) from Chess Review. I was wondering if I could get an opening statement before the tournament goes ahead this weekend?” You asked politely, trying your best not to attack her verbally this early in the morning, 

“Uh, of course. I’m feeling very confident this weekend that I’ll quickly rise to the top, concluding the tournament opposite Benny Watts.” Beth admitted, 

“Are you scared of Benny Watts?” You asked, 

“Scared? No. I am merely curious to see how our game goes.” Beth admits. 

“Well, good luck, Beth. I hope to catch up with you sometime this weekend for a brief interview of how you play your games if you don’t mind?” You asked politely, silently begging she’d say yes. 

“I’ll speak with you tomorrow night. It’ll be the middle of the tournament so there’ll be plenty to talk about.” Beth was extremely nice in offering her time and you took it gratefully. 

You left the girl to her own company and returned to the lobby where you could see a crowd already gathering. 

“Mr Watts.” You spotted the leather jacket and hat as the man entered the breakfast room. 

The man turned when he heard his name being called across the lobby and you quickly jogged to catch up to him. 

“You’re the girl from last night who put Henry Cavilla in his place?” Benny Watts smirked at you as he recalled the previous nights events. 

“Um.” You felt your cheeks flush in embarrassment. “I was just wondering if I could get a statement before the tournament began?” 

“You’re a reporter?” Benny cocked his eyebrow at you, his eyes scanning you up and down shamelessly. 

“Yes. For Chess Review.” You informed him. 

“Follow me.” Benny nodded his head sideways towards the table he was heading to and you did as you were told. 

“I was wondering how you were feeling about this weekend and possibly going up against Beth Harmon?” You asked as you sat yourself down opposite the man. 

“I won’t be possibly going up against Beth Harmon. I fully expect to be going up against her. Out of everyone here, she is the only person I see as potential competition.” Benny admitted, picking up his knife and fork as his breakfast was set down on the table. 

“Are you sure there’s no one else? Harry Beltik went into his tournament in Kentucky assuming no one but Cullen was any competition to him and yet Beth Harmon came along.” You stated, jotting down some notes to avoid watching the man eat. 

“Well then, they’ll just have to surprise me.” His eyes locked onto yours when he spoke. His lip just edging into a smirk. 

“Thank you for your statement.” You felt your stomach flip and you jumped to your feet, gathering your things. 

“Would you not like a full interview or was the three sentence statement enough?” Benny cocked his head round as you began to leave. 

“It was four, actually.” You corrected him, tapping your notepad with your pen. 

The man huffed out a short chuckle. 

“I’d be grateful for an interview later on this weekend, Mr Watts, if you don’t mind?” 

“I’ll find you when I’m ready.” Benny told you and from the look in his eyes, that’s what he really meant. 

The day went by quicker than expected, it was impossible to watch every game of the day so you watched Beth’s and Benny’s and you filled yourself in with the plays of any others that would make good press. 

You loved watching the game being played, you always tried to predict the outcome and 9 times out of 10 you got it correct except with Beth Harmon and Benny Watts.

They surprised you and it was thrilling to watch. You admired Harmon’s intuition and her attacks. Watts had always been an interesting watch all through his career but you’d only seen him play a handful of times in person before today.

In the evening, you received a call from the big bosses asking how everything was going. 

“I have an interview set up with Beth Harmon and Benny Watts.” You told them with confidence. 

“Good girl. Now get those interviews done quickly and send me a draft as soon as you can.” Your boss ordered before ending the call. 

You sighed, running a hand over your tired face. 

You picked up the bottle of wine you had in a metal cooler to see it was empty. Room service had taken so long to bring it up previously, you decided to just slip your slippers on and head down to the bar to get one final glass of wine before bed. 

You were wearing a nightie so you pulled a coat on over the top in case you bumped into anyone.

As you walked down the hall, you could hear the familiar voice of Benny Watts behind you. 

He was spewing some chess facts to whoever he was with as he walked. 

You peaked behind your shoulder to see he was heading to his room which was three doors up from yours. 

He spotted you too. 

You went into the elevator to head down to the bar. 

The bar was still busy despite the time and you had to wait for your wine. 

You took the glass and returned to your room. 

Your eyes couldn’t help but linger on the hotel room of Mr Benny Watts as you thought of tomorrows games. 

“You’re not stalking me, are you?” Benny startled you as he came up from behind. 

“Jesus...” You gasped, spinning round to face him. 

“Trying to get the dirt on who I’m sleeping with?” The man cocked his eyebrow, his hands tucked in his tight jeans. 

“Seems like the other way round since you keep appearing behind me.” You referred to earlier. 

“Maybe you just like being in my way?” You couldn’t deny that Benny Watts, the Benny Watts, was flirting with you right now. 

“Goodnight Mr Watts. Good luck tomorrow.” You gripped your door handle tightly. 

“Please, call me Benny.” 

(NEXT PART HERE)

[royal-ruin]

bungou stray dogs fic recs (part 17)

this is a fic rec list for long fics (fics longer than 18k).

other bsd fic recs here personal favorites are starred, by the way. everything is complete unless stated otherwise.

dazai osamu / nakahara chuuya (soukoku) fanfic recs

hey look, the sky's falling apart by saffroncassis (~25k)

The facts are this: Chuuya is a compassionate person. He cares too much and too fiercely. He gets attached easily and is undyingly loyal to the people around him. He also happens to be the strongest ability user this side of Japan since the turn of the century. At age 16, Chuuya defects from the Port Mafia and drags his partner with him not so much kicking and screaming as silently begrudging, and the rest follow suit in time.

Double Black by setosdarkness (~40k, incomplete: last updated 10.31.16)

Chuuya and Dazai are dating, with enough PDA to make one vomit rainbows. Both are hiding a huge secret from each other: that they’re assassins.

Turns out they’re working for rival companies too. Turns out they were actually sent to kill each other by their respective companies. Turns out they actually hate each other’s guts and were just pretending to like each other (well, okay, maybe not the last one).

aka The Fake Dating AU + assassins + crossdressing + shenanigans , because why not

[“T-That’s so s-sweet of you!” Yeah, so sweet that he can just gag. “N-Nobody’s ever told m-me that.” Probably because he’ll kill them dead if they attempt to do so. “It’s been fifteen hours since we saw each other.” Chuuya wants to scream: If you’re gonna flirt like that, do it right! It’s been sixteen hours, damn it, not fifteen!]

i don’t really read incomplete fics, but i didn’t realize this is incomplete till i was in the middle of reading it. it was still pretty good. the plot had just started picking up by the time i stopped at chapter 15.

Noir by Adargo (~42k)

In the past, he never truly understood that darkness growing behind Dazai’s eyes. Yet lately, Chuuya thinks, when he stares back into the black of his own, encircled by those pale-blue skies…

He’s starting to catch glimpses of it.

Retrace by Kuranoa (~44k)

Chuuya dreams every night, and in those dreams, he dies the most horrendous deaths, over and over. He wakes up in a cold sweat, afraid and disoriented.

Dazai always assures him that they are nothing but nightmares.

In this world, Fyodor has successfully obtained The Book. In this world, Dazai has witnessed Chuuya’s death 18,263 times.

i didn’t finish reading this fic. i stopped at about chapter five. it’s really really good, but super angsty. it’s a time loop where chuuya basically just dies every single day, over and over again. the writing is absolutely amazing, but i the angst really was too much for me this time.

*kabuki dance by teawriter (~122k)

kabuki dance: an event designed to create the appearance of conflict when the outcome has already been predetermined.

After two years of a losing war against Dostoyevsky, Mori calls Chuuya up to his office to explain the terms of his next mission—an undercover assignment to infiltrate the Decay of Angels by marrying Dazai Osamu, Dostoyevsky’s equal in everything but name. According to Mori, it’s the optimal solution.

But missions rarely go as planned, and Chuuya is only one pawn in a game far bigger than himself. So when it inevitably unravels in his hands, Yokohama's future hangs in the balance.

*where your loyalties lie by writingfromtheshadows (~163k)

Loyalty is the foundation of the yakuza code, something that was drilled into Chuuya at an early age. However, his lessons did not cover how to manage a political marriage with his organization's oldest rival.

i’m a sucker for arranged marriage aus w/ soukoku as a badass team.

[eveenstar]

𝐘𝐨𝐮, 𝐦𝐲 𝐦𝐮𝐬𝐞. ||𝐏𝐫𝐞-𝐄𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐭𝐲! 𝐃𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐲 "𝐉𝐞𝐝 𝐎𝐥𝐬𝐞𝐧" 𝐉𝐨𝐡𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫||

❥ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ɪ: ᴛʜᴇ ᴘʜᴏᴛᴏɢʀᴀᴘʜᴇʀ

𝚂𝚞𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚢: On the first days of spring, your friend Holly set you up with a nice photographer at the park. In the beginning, everything was normal, until you began to notice a shadow following you everywhere, and it wasn't your own.

𝚃𝚊𝚐𝚜/𝚆𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜: Reader uses she/her pronouns, sorry about that! Stalkish behavior in the end.

𝙰𝚞𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚛'𝚜 𝙽𝚘𝚝𝚎: Hello! First chapter of another fanfic, inspired by the YOU tv series. This also happens in the modern era. Lemme say this chapter alone took days to write because my inspiration lately has been the worse. Hope y'all enjoy! ♡

𝚃𝚊𝚐𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝: (If you wish to be tagged, please tell me!)

"C'mon Holly, losen up a bit. I know it's gonna go great tomorrow." You rolled your eyes as your friend sighed, but you didn't find the situation weird at all.

"I just...imagine how awkward it'll be if I purpose to Camilla at the same time she does it."

You pointed to a nice seat under a tree after you two finished paying for the ice creams. It was a nice day at the park, spring was finally here, and all of the warm and winter outfits were thrown inside the wardrobe.

"Look, (Y/N), I don't want to be that person, but..." You gaze over to Holly. "Look at that photographer over there."

Your eyes stopped on a handsome man, focused on his camera and the mother nature around him, like he was in harmony with it. His slightly wavy brown hair had threads falling to his face as the photographer kneeled in front of some flowers, camera in action. The stranger was wearing a casual shirt with blue jeans, which wasn't the stereotypical outfit you'd imagine for a photographer.

"Your type." Holly blankly said, looking back at you.

"Holly please," You rolled your eyes playfully, eating your ice-cream before it melted in your hands. You don't want that kind of accident again. "I forgot my book of cheeky flirt lines."

Determined, Holly got up and didn't even glance twice in your direction, so you knew what she was about to do. Wrapped up in her crazy idea of getting you with someone, she strolled her way in the direction of the dreamy photographer, who was still taking pictures of the pretty white flowers.

You chuckled, not even bothering to stop her since it wouldn't change anything. Once something got into Holly-Marie Monroe's head, nothing, and by all means, nothing would stop her.

"I'm sorry-hi, excuse me," Politely chuckling, she touched the man's shoulder to get his attention. He turned around, clearly confused by the interaction. Probably thought this strange woman was going to ask to have a picture of her taken. "My friend over there, (Y/N)," Holly points at you, and you awkwardly wave, "She'd love to meet you. Photography is totally her deal, she finds it an art. What'cha think?"

"Yeah, sure." Okay, not so bad, he smiled. A polite smile, but it counts, right?

Holly rushedly waved for you to come to them, which you did, mouthing a silent 'sorry' to him without your friend noticing. You looked up to meet his eyes, amber brown eyes to be more exact. You were actually expecting them to be darker, but no, they were light amber eyes. With a soft tune added to them.

"Hi, (Y/N) (L/N)." You said, a small smile forming in the corner of your lips. "But Holly already told you that."

The man nodded, gazing over to your eyes as well.

"Danny 'dreamy photographer' Johnson." He winked, placing his camera somewhere on his bag.

"Okay, I'd hate to be a third wheel soooo...I'll go get more ice-cream!" Holly whispered, moving further from you two after giving you a thumbs up from far. You sighed.

"That's a nice friend you've got there." Danny looked back at you, eyebrow raised.

"Heh, she loves to do this. I was the one that set her up with her now bride to-be girlfriend, so she felt like this is her obligation to me." You explained, shrouging your shoulders. Yes, in fact, Holly made it her life goal to set you up with someone, because apparently she doesn't want you to be the single person of the group. Well, you still have your other friend Rose to be single with.

Danny was still gazing at you with his smirk on. He chuckled.

"Hey, what do you think about sitting right in the middle of those flowers right there," You looked to the flowers, pink Begonia flowers, and shyly took a seat in the middle of them, careful not to mess with your outfit. "And let the master do his magic." He winked at you again, smirking.

Of all the people you've dated and flirted with before, none of them was as careful as Danny. The way he gently placed flowers in your hair as he looked for the best angles to take pictures of you, he even said how remarkable you were at sunlight. How good it was for your eyes and skin.

This lasted for twenty minutes, with Holly taking her own selfies for instagram in the background.

Staring at his camera, Danny had his focused yet soft eyes every time he glanced at you. "Hey, could I get your-"

"My number?" You finished his request, but it only made Danny chuckle.

"Well I was going to ask for your email, but sure." He gave you his phone, which wasn't exactly one of the biggest and modern phones to ever exist, and you embarassedly typed down your number. Who asks for emails nowadays? "Thank you. I'll send you the pictures later."

"That'd be wonderful."

You, second child of a wealthy divorced couple with a younger brother who's working abroad on Europe, who's in charge of a bakery and trying to make your way in the world. Danny found you interesting, and naïve of course, who flirts with a stranger in broad daylight? So uncivilized and desperate.

Holly-Marie Monroe, on the other hand, was your rich friend with a beautiful bride, and the owner of a company that produces the finest clothing in town. She lives for instagram and twitter, your stereotypical blogger and ocasional selfies about whatever is happening in her plastic life. Like everybody else, she pretended everything in her life is perfect.

But you? Oh, the background friend. Danny nicknamed you that after a brief search through all of your social media. You finished school and university in arts, but after your brother left to go on a "retire" in Europe, he left you in charge of the bakery. Not that your artist career was going anywhere anytime soon. You twitted ocasionally, but personally, Danny loved your blog. Apparently, you practiced your art talents on cakes. Strangely lots of people loved it, which really isn't nothing much. What happened to the old, simple cakes? Do people really pay that much for food just because it looks "different"? What has society come to?

Even after sending you the pictures, Johnson felt quite disappointed that you didn't seem to post them anywhere. C'mon, they were great, and worthy of being posted. Something that would guarantee Danny that you liked them as much. Something that it would make you remember him.

A copy-paste here and a quick search on Maps, here it was.

Your exact street, building and apartment you lived in. Isn't Internet wonderful?

[noforkingclue]

Hey I saw that your requests were open so I thought why not. Anyways I have a request for a Malcolm fanfic. So I was thinking the team got called for a very high profile case where one of the richest guys in the world was murdered and they meet the daughter that just flew in and hadn’t spoken to her father in years and her and Malcolm have like a love at first sight moment. He tries to impress her by showing off more then usual with his skills and at the end could you do where they go on a date. Love your writing thanks!!!

Aww, thank you anon! I really hope that you like the fic!

Now that Prodigal Son series 2 is out in the UK (at least legally) expect a lot more Prodigal Son fics out!

Title: Impressive

Prodigal Son tag list: @takethee, @queenoffandom08

Everything tag list: @greenrevolutionary

You sat in the police station wringing your hands nervously. People looked at you curiously as the passed by and you heard the whispered conversations. You didn’t look like an heiress, surely you must be a fraud, were you actually a reporter trying to get the inside story. You ran a hand through you hair as you recalled the phone call that you received only a couple of days ago.

“Ms. l/n?”

You looked up sharply when you heard your name called. You quickly stood up and walked towards the office who had called you.

“Gil Arroyo?” you asked, “I think we spoke on the phone.”

“Yes,” he stepped aside and ushered you into his office, “I’m sorry for your-“

“Don’t,” you held up your hand, “My father was a bastard. I’m not sorry he’s gone.”

This seemed to catch Gil by surprise and you realised what you said. You blushed as you sat down in the chair he offered and looked down at your hands.

“Before you say anything,” you said quietly, “I wasn’t even in the country when you told me. I haven’t seen my father in almost five years. I’m surprised you even know about me.”

“Well we had a bit of help with that.”

“Help?”

Before Gil could answer the door to his office was flung open. Gil closed his eyes and took a deep breath as a young man started pacing around.

“It was so obvious,” he said, “I just can’t believe I missed it. Gil we need to-“

It was then that he realised you were in the room. He paused mid-step as he looked between you and Gil.

“Hi.” He said

“Hey.”

“Malcolm,” said Gil, “This is y/n l/n.”

“The daughter?”

“Yes.”

“Great!”

He took the other seat and shifted closer towards you. You blushed when you felt his knee brushed against yours but for some reason you didn’t move away. There was something about Malcolm that was captivating.

“You father,” Malcolm said, “You know what happened?”

“He was murdered,” you replied, “It’s been kind of hard to miss.”

“What was your relationship with him?”

“I didn’t have one,” you grip tightened around the denim jacket you were wearing, “He didn’t have much time for me.”

“Really?”

Malcolm stood up and beckoned you to follow him. After a brief pause you stood up and followed him into the other room. You paled when you saw the photos on the wall but Malcolm just slapped a hand against the board and pointed at you.

“Did you father have many enemies?”

“It would be easier to tell you who wasn’t.”

“Ok.”

“Huh?”

“Look at the way his body was positioned,” Malcolm looked back at the photos, “In his bed. You could almost mistake him for being asleep if it wasn’t for all the blood. His hair was combed, he was dressed in his pyjamas and yet the killer saw fit to completely gut him.”

He looked back at you and smiled at you. You gave him a curious look as you slowly walked over.

“So what you’re saying,” you said, “Is that the killer hated my father and yet had affection for him as well.”

“Yes!” Malcolm said excitedly, “Exactly! Look at the layout of the room, everything personal to your father was destroyed. Photos of him were torn apart, paperwork shredded, this person must’ve hated him and yet,”

Malcolm held up and finger and pushed a file towards you,

“These remained intact.” He said gently

You carefully opened the file and you breath hitched at what you saw. Photos from your childhood. While the face of your father had been etched out the faces of you and your mother smiled back up at you. Memories of a happier time when things were simpler. You wiped away a tear and sat down in a chair. Malcolm sat down next to you.

“This person cares about you,” he said, “Do you know anyone who-“

“My brother.”

This seemed to knock Malcolm. He looked back at the board then back to you.

“You have a brother?” he asked

“Oh yes,” you let out a bitter laugh, “But you wouldn’t suspect it. My father completely cut him out of our lives a couple of years ago. As for these photos,” you lifted one and grimaced, “Edited. My father removed all traces of Ollie from his life.”

“But you still remain close.”

“How… how do you know that?”

“Your jacket,” Malcolm nodded towards it, “The way your grip tightened when you talk about him. It was his, your last memory of him before your father removed him from your life.”

You bit your lip and nodded. Ollie had always been the black sheep of the family, always willing to go one step further and push your father’s buttons. You never expected him to be disowned let alone actually kill your father.

“He still cared,” Malcolm said eventually, “The way he dressed him and put him to bed. He was cleansing himself of his demons. Now that you father is dead he can begin his new life, finally free from the chains and constrictions that your father gave him.”

“But he was already free.”

“Not to Ollie,” Malcolm continued, “He held a mixture of love and loathing that he could never shake free of. Even you, deep down, know how he’s feeling. The sense of relief to know that he can never control your life again. You didn’t come back here to mourn him, you came back here to make sure that he really is dead and honestly,” Malcolm lowered his voice, “I can’t blame you.”

“I didn’t know Ollie was going to do this,” you said, “You have to believe me. I haven’t spoken to him in a year. He just went silent one day. I never… It’s just…”

“I know,” said Malcolm, “We just need to find him.”

“I’ll help in any way I can.”

“Thank you.”

“And Malcolm.”

“Yes?”

“What you said earlier,” you gave him a shy smile, “It was impressive.”

“Was it?”

“Yeah, no one had ever gotten that side of me before.”

“Well,” Malcolm looked a mixture of embarrassed but also a bit pleased, “It wasn’t anything much. Just doing my job.”

“I’d like to learn more about it.”

“Really?”

“Over dinner.”

“Dinner?”

“Unless,” you said quickly, “You don’t want to. I know I wasn’t a suspect but my brother did kill my father. Would it be unethical? Shit, forget I said anything!”

“No!” said Malcolm quickly, “It’s just I wasn’t expecting you to be interested. People don’t tend to be interested in me in that way.”

“Why not?”

“Umm.”

“Shit that was rude,” you took a deep breath, “Can we pretend that this didn’t happen?”

“You asking me out or-“

“The bit that came after. I still want to go out for dinner. If you want to that is.”

“I do.”

“Great!”

“Good.”

“After work or…”

“How about tomorrow.”

“Sounds good to me.”

You stood up and Malcolm copied you. He opened the door for you and you smiled as the left the room. You ignored the stares a Malcolm walked you out and you said,

“Where shall we meet? Here?”

“Why not. If we meet at my apartment you’ll run the risk of meeting my mother and I don’t think you’ll want to meet her.”

“Meeting the parents on the first date is a bit quick for me.”

Malcolm gave you a slightly strained smile before opening the door again for you. You gave him a wave goodbye before walking back outside. You looked over your shoulder briefly as you saw some of his colleagues walk up to him. Just before the door closed you heard one of them say,

“How did you manage that Bright?”

[missskzbiased]

The Dickhead Cupid

Genre: Fluff, Romance, Oneshot, Drabble, Confession! au, High School! au, Best Friends to lovers! au

Pairing: Han Jisung x Fem! Reader

Word Count: ~2,9K [Yes, Guys, I suck at writing a Drabble. Sue me]

Notes: The second fanfic for the Valentine’s request [That you can find here]

Chan ||  Minho || Changbin || Hyunjin || Han || Felix || Seungmin || Jeongin

Masterlist

Warnings: Language (?) [Dickhead is considered language? Dumbass. Things like this], Mentions of food, suggestive joke

Requested: Yes, by  🔮 anon [I hope you like it T^T]

General Tag List: @channiewoo @aliceu

[If you wish to be tagged to the other Valentine’s requests, please send me an ask <3]

                                                            ///

    Minho stood there in the empty classroom, staring blankly at the box.

    “Love u dick?” He said out loud, blinking a few times and studying the half-open box with a frown before raising his eyes to you, arching his brow judgingly “Are you sure it wasn’t supposed to be Jisung’s gift?” He asked in amusement, throwing you a knowing look that made your face burn like the ends of hell.

    “Head!” You hissed, yanking the box away from his hands to unwrap it completely “Love u Dick-Head!” You cried, showing him the sixteen pieces of chocolate that were supposed to be a friendly present “Read the damn thing properly, Godamnit!” You whined, utterly embarrassed as you returned the gift to him.

    “Why the hell didn’t you spell Dickhead in one line?!” He burst out laughing, analyzing the chocolate with twinkling eyes before shoving a piece inside his mouth, humming in appreciation “If you put ‘dick’ and ‘head’ in different lines, it’s bound to happen a misunderstanding!” He pointed out, chuckling before widening his eyes in realization and looking at you excitedly “Please, tell me that you gave one of those to Jisung” He begged, getting a hit on the shoulder as an answer.

    “Of course not!” He chortled, eating another piece while you freaked out “And how the hell would I put dickhead in one row if each one has only four pieces, dumbass?!” You protested, crossing your arms over your chest as you pouted at him “It’s clear enough, okay?” You took the box once more, gesturing to the first row “Love” You stressed the word, getting a nod from him “U followed by a heart because they didn’t have a comma” You pointed at the two pieces, catching a glimpse of his smirk “Dickhead” You concluded, floundering your hand between the two last rows.

    “Clear as the day” He agreed, fighting back his smile as he reached for a third piece.

    “It was on sale, okay?!” You gave up, throwing your hands to the air “You know that I wanted to make something special to Jisung! And he had to come up with seven ungrateful brats attached!” You complained, making him cackle up in a ridiculous high-pitched laugh that made you chuckle along with him “I’m broke, give me a break” You sighed, pressing your hands on your cheeks and pulling your face down.

    “The guys totally read it the same way as I did, didn’t they?” He asked amusedly, losing it when you dejectedly nodded to confirm “With all due respect but what were you thinking?” He shook his head in disbelief, eating the last piece from the row and slapping his own leg, trying to tone down his merriment. You shrugged, too gloomy to keep arguing to defend your ideas, leaning back on your chair before glancing at the box on your desk, whimpering in mortification.

    Love u Dick.

   You squirmed on your chair as to throw a tantrum, wailing and reaching for a piece to destroy the embarrassing statement displayed on the box and shoving it inside your mouth. Minho whined in protest, furrowing his brows as he glared at you, bringing the box closer to him and eating another chocolate. You threw him a look, scorning him silently while slowly approaching your hand to the box ─ attentive to his watching eyes that resembled a tiger studying its prey ─, feeling the tension building up as you got closer to the chocolate. Minho didn’t only resemble a feline; he also had the same reflexes as one, slapping your hand right away as soon as you tried to jolt to snatch it from him.

    “Yah! I was the one who bought it!” You whined.

    “Yah! Don’t you know how to read?” He scoffed “M-I-N-H-O” He spelled, pointing to each letter on the gift-tag “That’s me, I’m Minho” He reasoned, gently tossing the paper on your face as he laughed at your surprised self “If you wanna share it, you should do it with your boyfriend” He teased, prompting you to get up from your chair to dope slap him in retaliation “Ouch!” He whined, throwing you a baffled look.

    “He’s not my boyfriend!” You howled, picking up the box to shove each piece inside his mouth. Minho laughed as he tried to fight you, failing to get up as you leaned on his back, using your weight to hold him down and your arm to wrap his shoulder, squeezing his cheeks with your free hand so you could force his mouth open.

    “Can you blame him?” He retorted in a muffled tone, trying to yank your hand away from him “Is that how you’d treat your boyfriend?!” He taunted before you finally accomplished your mission, shoving three pieces inside his mouth and making him snort as you announced your victory, laughing exhilarated and letting him go.

    “Hey” The small voice washed away any excitement you had in the previous second, making you close your eyes shut for a moment before turning around with a friendly smile, meeting Jisung’s eyes. He leaned on the doorframe, darting his eyes between both of you before landing them on the box; his smile faltering for a bit “I see you’re already giving away some Valentine’s gifts… Where is mine?” He said jokingly, though you could see the expectation in his eyes.

    “Oh, I didn’t buy you anything” You explained, noticing how his expression seemed to drop significantly “No! I mean- I didn’t buy anything because I want to give you something else!” You rushed to say, hitting Minho’s head when he muttered a ‘Smooth’ under his breath “I thought we could go to that place you really wanted to go… Like…” You trailed off, clearing your throat “Like…” A date.

    “Like?” He encouraged you to continue, eyes twinkling.

    “Like… To eat a cheesecake or something” You smiled half-heartedly “I know you always wanted to try it out” You added coyly, rubbing your arm as you glanced at him uncertainly. Was it too straight forward? Jisung seemed taken aback by your invite, letting his mouth fall agape, completely speechless “Or maybe I can just give you some chocolate as well… I mean, I just thought you would prefer the cheesecake” You floundered, too nervous to wait for his answer.

     “No!” He squeaked, snapping out of his trance and waving his hands vehemently to put away your suggestion “I love cheesecake!” He added in a rushed tone, pink slowly dusting his cheeks “I mean- It’s a date, right?!” His voice cracked, prompting him to snap his hand to his throat, clearing it in embarrassment “Not a date-date! I mean… A date, right?” He gulped down, seeming terrified to keep his eyes focused on you.

    “Yeah!” Your voice faltered just like his “Not a date-date! Haha!” You lied, feeling the shame slowly wash over you “Just because it’s Valentine’s day and I’m asking you to go out with me doesn’t mean it’s a date” You chortled, feeling too nervous to refrain yourself from talking “I mean! A boy and a girl can be bestest of friends and still go out on a date!” You added, snorting ungracefully as you shrugged to make your point. What point? You had no idea.

   “Exactly!” He nodded eagerly, gesturing at you in a way to show his agreement “We’re best friends, right?” He asked as if to make sure of it “Best friends go on dates all the time!” He placed his hands on his hips, nodding sharply to emphasize his point. You nodded along with him, both of you laughing in a robotic way that made Minho grimace in disgust, staring at you as if you guys had grown a third head out of nowhere.

    “Okay…” He said warily “I’ll let you best friends talk about your date for now” He got up from his chair, scraping it on the floor and making you cringe “Thank you for the chocolate, baby” He stressed the last word, patting the small of your back softly before getting his box and walk to the door, hesitating for a bit “Want some?” He asked Jisung, extending it to him.

    You didn’t know what Minho was planning, but you were sure that there was no way in hell that he would offer food for Jisung like this. You narrowed your eyes at them, watching as your best friend tried to hold a gasp, snapping his eyes at Minho ─ who suspiciously smirked at him ─ before darting them to you. He didn’t take any pieces ─ which was weird enough for itself ─ but as Minho made his way out, turning around to wink at you when Jisung entered the room to sit on your desk, you were completely sure that he had schemed against you.

    “So…” He began, glancing at you uneasily “You and Minho, hm?” He said, crossing his arms over his chest to pretend to look unbothered “Were you planning to confess all along?” He asked curiously, and you couldn’t help but look at him flabbergasted.

    “What are you talking about?” You blurted “Minho and I are just friends”

    “Oh? Did you give all of your friends a box of chocolate saying that you loved them?” He sulked “I mean, I didn’t get any boxes” He shrugged, looking at you in wonder, seeming too afraid to voice his inner thoughts yet bold enough to stare straight into your eyes to look for some answers.

    There was a silent moment that felt like a switch.

    You swallowed dry, unsure if now was a good time to confess your feelings. That wasn’t going as you had planned at all… Your plans were quite simple: Convince Jisung to go out with you, bring him to the fancy place he always wanted to go to but didn’t have the money to, dress up nicely to look alluring under the dim lights, share a piece of cheesecake ─ not only because you couldn’t afford two pieces but also because it was more romantic ─, and finally confess your undying love for your best friend.

    Easy peasy.

    Thanks to Minho, though, all of your plans were going down the drain.

     Instead of going out to a fancy place, you were standing in a dusty empty classroom. Instead of dressing up nicely, you were wearing simple clothes that he was used to seeing you in, therefore being too common to look alluring at all. Instead of being under dim lights, you were standing under the sunset’s orangish lights, which were bound to enhance all the traits you didn’t want him to pay attention to. Instead of sharing a piece of cheesecake and being romantic, you were standing in an uncomfortable silence beside each other, wrapped in a lie that must be cleared up.

    Instead of confessing your undying love for your best friend, you were chickening out.

    As you drown yourself in your torrent of thoughts and doubts, you were oblivious to the current state of mind your best friend and romantic interest was at the moment.

    Han Jisung prided himself on being a pretty chill human being, having nice dreams (that he always referred to as goals, because he was settled on making them real), and owning enough courage to chase whatever he wanted to accomplish. Unfortunately for him, you could throw every single one of those things out of the window just by glancing at him with a smile, making his heart burst inside his chest and his limbs turn into pudding. You made him a coward with nice dreams that he didn’t have enough courage to pursue.

    Dreams that haunted his head.

    He was too close yet too far away from them. Each time he held your hand or interlocked his arm with yours as you made your way to your favorite places… Each time you threw him a look that seemed something more but not really… Each time you said you loved him… Each time you acted as if he was special to you… Each time he couldn’t understand if he was just a friend or something more under your eyes… All of those times felt like he was too close and yet too far away from his dreams; searching and gripping on thin air that was bound to slip through his fingers.

    He could never grasp it, no matter how hard he tried to.

    Now, he couldn’t help but wonder if he was seeing too much or too little. Did you really give Minho a box filled with chocolate that spelled ‘I Love U’ because you guys were friends? Was he wrong for thinking that going out with you on Valentine’s Day sounded a bit too intimate for a best friend thing? Should he be so worried about whether or not you gave a box to each one of your friends except him? Should it make his heart rum against his chest like that? Did that box mean you liked Minho? Or did it mean that you may like him?

    The poor boy was freaking out.

    “Did you?” He repeated himself, and you were honestly too lost inside your mind to remember what he had asked you sooner. You stared at him blankly, blinking a few times and letting your mouth open a little, licking your lips before looking around the room as if you were looking for some answers.

    “Did I- What? What did I do?” You asked bewildered, widening your eyes as he made his way to you, holding your arms firmly yet gently, locking his eyes with yours. He seemed to be engulfed in brand new determination, eyes fiercely looking for any signs on yours that could finally clarify his doubts and fears. You gulped down, feeling your throat too dry as he stared for your lips, and the sudden realization that your mouth tasted like chocolate made you wonder if he would enjoy kissing you like this.

    “Did you give each one of the guys a chocolate box telling you loved them?” He asked again, and you opened and closed your mouth a few times. That was it. If you answered him now, all of your confession plans would definitely go down the drain. If you didn’t answer him now, you may not even have the chance to confess at all.

    “I did” You answered, voice trembling as you tried to gather enough courage to confess to him. It wasn’t what you were planning, and you didn’t feel prepared to do it right now. But would you ever feel like it was the right time? Or would you keep running away till you lost your shot? “I gave each one of my friends a chocolate box” You emphasized, noticing how he gulped down in expectation, eyes wavering as he searched for something inside yours.

    “You didn’t get me one” He said carefully, chest going up and down as his uneven breath warmed your face.

    “I didn’t” You agreed, too scared to explain why; breath mingling with his.

    “Is it because I’m more than a friend?” He asked, making your heart go at an insanely fast rate “Please, don’t say yes if you’re going to say I’m your best friend” He pleaded in a small voice, feeling too scared to look into your eyes. You gasped, hands going to cup his cheeks to make sure he would be looking at you when you finally said it. You rubbed circles on his soft skin, fighting the urge to pinch his round cheek and wetting your lips as you looked into his eyes.

    “Yes, that’s because –“ You began to whisper but was promptly interrupted.

    “For Lord’s sake! Just kiss already” Minho groaned from the outside, making both of you snap your heads to the window, catching a glimpse of a hand pulling someone’s head down just on time.

    “Shhh! Don’t interrupt them! It took them ages to confess!” Chan hissed from somewhere under the sill.

    You sighed along with Jisung, walking towards the window to lean there, glaring at the seven guys that grinned sheepishly at you, rubbing their nape in embarrassment. Minho was the first one to recover, getting up and stretching like a cat as if he didn’t just interrupt your long-awaited kiss with Jisung. He smirked at you obnoxiously, shrugging as he picked up the last piece of chocolate on his box ─ the heart-shaped one ─, shoving it inside Jisung’s mouth and grinning widely.

    “Okay, all set! Dickhead loves you too” He patted your shoulder, talking quickly as if to confuse you “Chocolate flavored kiss, that’s my gift for both of you! Congratulation for finally realizing that you should be together all along and everything all of us were painfully aware of! Please don’t chase or beat us up!” He nudged the guys around, prompting them to get away from the window “You may kiss the bride or whatever” He offered, turning around to run away with them.

    You and Jisung scoffed, watching them running away.

    “Should we chase them?” You asked amusedly, glancing at him.

    “Maybe tomorrow we can smack their heads or something… I have to make better use of my time than that on my first Valentine with my girlfriend” He shrugged, smirking when you got all flustered at the mention of your new relationship status “May I kiss the bride?” He asked jokingly, pulling you closer by your waist.

    “As many times you want” You chuckled, leaning in for a kiss.

[thechangeling]

Tell me a story

Ty doesn't believe in fate.

A shout out to @ilikebooks8 for convincing me to make a fanfic about autistic!Eleanor Blackthorn. Autism is genetic so it makes sense for Ty to have autistic ancestors. If you are autistic I guarentee you have someone in your family who is also autistic they just haven't been diagnosed yet. For me, I've got my dad.

Cw: mentions of ableism, abuse and the death of a minor character. Very anti Andrew Blackthorn.

"Tell me a story," Tiberius' asked, in that mature, matter- of-fact way he spoke. Ty was only eight but already he sounded like a boy twice his age in terms of his vocabulary and the way he spoke.

Although he still had the voice of a child which was rather amusing. Eleanor turned to face her son with a groan as she felt searing pain shoot through her bones. She had been laying down all day due to feeling extremely unwell. The noises and lights of the outside world were especially brutal, but she had gotten used to it overtime. She had learned to cope. To smile and nod and make eye contact. To control her movements and still her hands and laugh at their jokes.

Eleanor played the part of the proper shadowhunter and the dutiful wife, the attentive mother. It didn't matter that it had changed her. Had completely turned her into a different person, someone harsher and colder. Someone who was so quick to anger and venomous hatred.

Someone who only knew how to be in pain.

She always tried to not let that side of her show to her children. They didn't deserve it. But the past few weeks in particular had been brutal. Her body felt broken and it was becoming harder and harder to put up that facade.

She faced Ty with the best fake smile she could muster. "Which story would you like to hear?" He climbed up on the bed beside her and sat down in an odd twisted position where his legs were in a W position. He began tapping his hands on his knees as he appeared to contemplate his choices.

Eleanor could remember a time when she was younger when she used to do that. Before her parents had stopped her. She knew she should really tell Tiberius off to discourage him from doing these things in public. He was so blatent and open in a way that frightened and almost angered her. There was no telling what kind of reaction The Clave might have.

She didnt want him to end up with the dregs, or worse.

"I don't know," Ty said finally scrunching up his eyebrows. "I can't think of one right now. Could you make one up?" Eleanor smiled in spite of herself. She had always loved making up stories ever since she was a kid. She had always been a creative person, painting and drawing as often as she could. Shadowhunters didn't really appreciate a creative streak.

Eleanor nodded. "Ok sure, let's see." She took a breath, trying to ignore the agony spreading through her back and shoulders. "Once upon a time there was a prince who was trapped in a tower that was guarded by an evil ogar. The prince had been rumored to have special powers so he was forced by his parents to stay locked away in the tower forever to keep him safe. He wasnt allowed to make friends with any other children so he grew up alone. Teaching himself how to read and write and playing games to amuse himself."

Ty rolled his eyes. "Isn't that rather cliche? The whole prince trapped in a tower story? I've definitely heard that before."

Eleanor laughed. "Where did you hear the word cliche Tiberius?" Ty shrugged, not seeing the amusement in the situation.

"It was in a book. Can you keep going?" He whined impatiently. "I wanna hear the rest."

Eleanor sighed, shaking her head good naturedly. "Alright then. So the prince was trapped for a very long time. Then one day a mysterious adventurer came exploring nearby the tower."

"Can it be a detective?" Ty interrupted, bouncing up and down. He had been obsessed with Clue lately.

"Alright sure, it was a detective. He was searching the answers to a murder mystery. The murder of a young women."  Ty instantly looked interested. Perhaps murder was not the best subject for a story being told to an eight year old, but Ty was a shadowhunter. They were trained to deal with blood and death.

"His was searching for information and came across the tower," she continued. So he decided to investigate. He snuck passed the ogar and into the tower, where he was ambushed by the prince!"

Ty gasped excitedly, wriggling in place. "What happened next? Did they fight?"

Eleanor opened her mouth to continue, but then the bedroom door flew open, startling them both.

It was Andrew. Instantly Ty shrunk himself down, hunching his shoulders. Eleanor knew that Ty didn't always get along with his father but she knew Andrew still loved him deep down. He glared at them both.

"Ty your mother is meant to be resting," he said pointedly.

Eleanor shook her head. "Oh no it's alright. He wasn't bothering me." Andrew didn't seem to hear her.

"Tiberius let's go," he said harshly. Ty hesitated for a moment, looking up at her.

"But I wanna hear the rest of the story!" He protested. "I wanna know what happens to the prince!" Eleanor sighed solemnly. She didn't want to disappoint Ty, but she was feeling pretty worn out.

"Another time baby," she assured him. "I promise."

But unfortunately she never got the chance. She never got the chance because little did they know, Eleanor Blackthorn had cancer. Something that silent brothers couldn't cure. Something that shadowhunters were powerless against.

"What are you thinking about ?" Kit murmered from his spot curled up against Ty's chest. His breath tickled Ty's chin.

Ty paused, not quite sure how to answer. They were lying on the roof of the LA institute again. It was their special spot. Kit had suggested a night of star gazing for a date since the weather was nice.

Things has been a little weird between them lately. Kit had been pretending that everything was fine and he was unfazed, but Ty could tell that something was bothering him. And he had a feeling he knew what it was.

At Magnus and Alec's anniversary party, Jace made a joke about how Kit and Ty would probably be the next ones to get married and Ty immediately went into a blind panic. He completely froze up at the mention of marriage. At the mention of him getting married. His body instantly went into a complete overload almost as if he was on the verge of a meltdown.

He didn't take the time to think about any of it. He just snapped and yelled that he wasn't getting married. That he wasn't ever getting married. Ty wasnt even sure where it came from. Kit was pretending like it wasnt a big deal but Ty knew he was hurting. He could tell.

Ty traced a pattern across Kit's arm. "Honestly it was nothing," he assured him. "I just-." Ty stared at Kit, studying his face. The curve of his lips, the adorable blush of his cheeks and the tiny beauty mark under his eye that Ty loved to fixate on. Everything ached, but it was a good kind of ache.

Ty loved him.

"I just want to stay like this forever," he murmered. "Here with you, where I feel safe and warm. And loved." Ty nuzzled his nose against Kit's. "I want to be with you forever."

Kit smiled distantly before breaking into a slight frown. "Then why don't you wanna marry me?" He asked sadly. And Ty could instantly hear the old ghosts of self loathing and insecurity still haunting Kit's thoughts.

Ty sighed. "It has nothing to do with you I promise. I just really don't want to get married and I'm not even fully certain of why exactly."

Kit stroked his cheek slowly. "Is it the idea of a big wedding? Because we don't have to do that you know. We can totally just skip it," he said assuredly.

Ty shook his head. "That's part of it but it isn't the only reason." He paused to contemplate what exactly it was that was making him feel this way, feel so afraid.

Strangely enough, Ty kept coming back to his mother. His mother who was always a little peculiar in private. Who always seemed sad and exhausted even before the silent brothers diagnosed her. Who was constantly going along with whatever her husband wanted for whatever reason. Because she assumed he knew what he was doing? Because she didn't want to make waves in a society so rigid and obsessed with conformity?

Ty had been considering it more and more lately.

He sat up, displacing Kit from where he was resting. "I think my mother was like me," Ty admitted in a shakey voice. "I think she was autistic and that's why she ended up in the situations she did."

"Ok?" Kit looked confused. "But that still doesn't explain-."

Ty interrupted him. "She was trying so hard to fit in and do the right thing and she would just let him control her. She kept compromising for him because she thought that's what she was supposed to do and also because despite it all I think she really loved him! And it made her so stupid!" Ty shouted.

"I just don't want to become trapped like that," he confessed.

Kit was silent for a moment, just staring at him with a puzzled expression. "Ok, but Ty you realize that I'm not your dad right? Like I would never try and control you or make you into something you're not. I'm not trying to own you, I'm trying to love you!" He argued. "Ty, marriage isnt supposed to trap you. It's about making our relationship into an Offical legal thing that everyone's forced to acknowledge and accept."

Kit took Ty's hand in his. "It's about making each other family."

Ty looked away. He couldn't meet Kit's eyes when he was staring at him looking so hopeful and desperate. It did strange things to Ty's insides. He squeezed his eyes shut, scrunching up his face along with his fists for a moment before letting go.

"I just don't want to let someone have power over me in that way," he explained. Kit sighed, then smiled softly before leaning forward to rest his forehead against Ty's. Ty let out a little moan as he let the tension release from his body with a sigh. Kit placed his hand over Ty's heart.

"But don't you get it Ty?" He asked softly. "You already have, whether you meant to or not. I'm in your system sweetheart, in your blood just like you're in mine." Ty felt him smile. "Like we were made for each other. Like we've spent our entire lives waiting for each other."

Ty pulled away from him. "No I don't believe that," he stated firmly. "I don't believe in fate or destiny or soulmates. I think it's an overt  romanticization of life and the human condition which can have disastrous consequences. It leads people to believe that they are somehow incomplete without a romantic partner which is incredibly problematic." Ty realized he was probably going on a bit of a tangent as he was known to do. But he couldn't be bothered to care.

Kit pouted a little. "Yeah I get that. But I don't know. I like to romanticize things in life. After everything that I've been through, I guess it just makes things feel better you know?" Kit glanced at him hopefully."I don't care if you don't believe in any of those things. I do. And despite what you might believe, you aren't always right about everything," Kit said pointedly.

Ty scowled at him. Kit was undeterred. "And I get that you're coming at this from a scary trauma place. I understand that. I have those too. But you don't have to be afraid of me," he pleaded.

Ty couldn't resist reaching out and touching him, pushing a curly lock of hair behind his ear. "Can I maybe think about it?" Kit smiled and snuggled up against Ty's chest again. "Of course," he murmered. Ty leaned back and resumed his earlier position, staring up at the sky.

He nuzzled his face against Kit's hair. "I'm glad you're not mad at me anymore," said Ty.

Kit snorted, turning to face Ty. "I'm never mad at you love. It's pretty much impossible." Ty grinned and leaned forward to kiss him slowly, savoring the feeling of Kit's lips against his.

Kit broke off and kissed Ty's cheek, then his orbital bone. Ty giggled and closed his eyes which prompted Kit to place a kiss on each of his eyelids.

"I love every inch of you," Kit whispered. Ty couldn't speak. He was too overwhelmed. He just wrapped his arms around Kit even tighter and pressed a kiss to his forehead.

They lay in peaceful silence for several moments before Kit spoke.

"Tell me a story."

In case you missed it, the story Eleanor was telling Ty is the story of kitty in Lady Midnight basically. Also. Not me projecting my fear of marriage onto my comfort character! 😂

Tag list: (lmk if you wanna be added/removed) @playwithravenclaw @lavender-scented-rat @knifescythe @ti-bae-rius @dianasarrow @jazzkaurtheglorious @waterlillies @zfoxdraws @julieandthefandoms @older-brother-kit @ilikebooks8 @nott-the-best @stxr-thxif @magnus-the-fabulous-entp-bane @foxglove-airmid @littlx-songbxrd @heloisacosta23 @adoravel-fenomeno @eutonyinwhisper

[justatidalwaveoffeelings]

Ok, so I don't write. I have never written a fanfic. This doesn't have a name and it's probably poorly written. It's Rachel's point of view around the time of Cammie's second kidnapping attempt. I was bored and I had this idea stuck in my head so here it is. I debate not even posting it but what the hey🤷🏼‍♀️

@averagejoesolomon you totally got me hooked on the Rachel only calls Matt, Matthew. So all the credit to you on that one!

This whole thing is basically read at your own risk. Haha

Just like that, what she had left of her world was crumbling. It happened so quickly. Rachel hadn't seen what had happened. She just knew that one moment she had been talking to Cynthia McHenry and the next she felt her instincts as an operative hit her like a swift punch to the gut.

Something was wrong. She looked around the ballroom looking for Cammie but she didn't see her. She didn't see any of her freinds or even that Goode boy. Never one to be dissuaded from her mission, she  decided to look for Abby. She at least she might know where her neice was.

As much as her sister annoyed her, she was happy to have her back in her life. However temporary it might be. She was aware how an operative's life gets crazy. She knew her sister was dedicated but she didn't know how far they would be pulled apart when she stepped out of the field after Matthew's passing. They had just recently talked about why there hadn't been much contact between the two of them in recent years. Why Abby had walked farther away from Rachel and Cammie and deeper into her various covers. Rachel knew the guilt the came with losing Matthew. The countless nights that kept her up thinking about what might have happened if she told if him to stay home. If she had pulled the "wife card" and asked him not to keep secrets. She knew that Abby had been hurt. Rachel had never lived through anything harder. It didn't surprise her that everyone else who also loved him felt the same. When he died there was a very real whole in each of their hearts. She had suspected Abby just didn't know how to miss Matthew with her. After all, her sister had never been one to grieve in front of others. Rachel hadn't know just how deep routed her sister's guilt and regret had dragged her. Rachel regretted not going to get her baby sister back sooner after Matthew's passing but she hadn't wanted to press Abby too hard in a time of grief for both of them.

Now, if only she could FIND HER.  Her sister always had a knack for being where she wasn't supposed be. So, if Rachel could think if the most inconvenient spot for someone to be she might find her.

When she had finished looking around the ballroom the hair on the back of her neck started to stand on end. She felt a cold sweat start. Her blouse was too tight. She pulled at her collar and silently chastised herself being so obviously uncomfortable. Rachel wanted to tell her instincts to shut up, that nothing was wrong. She knew better though, something was off.

She felt eyes. She pretended to check her make-up in a small compact while checking behind her. She locked on a familiar pair of green eyes staring back at her. Of course he was there. She had just checked the whole room and hadn't spotted him once. If Joe was about to poke fun about her being off now was not the time. When she turned to face him she realized that he wore an expression just as grim as her own.

"You got the same sick feeling in your gut?"

Before she could respond something seemed to dawn on Joe.

"Where's Cammie, Rachel?"

"I don't know. I've been looking for her, or her roommates. Even Abby."

"Zach". Joe mumbled the boy's name. "He's probably with her, right? Did you see them slip out?"

"No, well maybe, but if I knew that I wouldn't be so gosh darn worried now would I, Joseph?!" She hadn't meant to snap but she was feeling worse by the second. Now her instincts seemed to be at work on her stomach.

When the shot went off they didn't question where it had come from. They didn't need to wait for some sort of command. Old habits did truly die hard.  They were across the ballroom in seconds. Not drawing the attention of a single onlooker. They slipped out the back door into a dark ally. The Circle. They were there. Beside her Joe started to speak into thier comms unit. There was a big problem. Rachel looked for Cammie. She was being snagged back down the ally, toward the safety of the door by Zach. Neirher of them was bleeding. She was able to breath agian. The bullet could have been a warning shot. It didn't feel that way though. Where did it land?

She brought herself back to the scene. They were after her daughter and she had to protect her daughter. The kids were fighting like operatives. That was something the headmistress in her couldn't have missed and was quietly proud of. Now only if they could all get out of it. Other gallagher girls rushed out beside her, ready for the fight, ready to protect Cammie.

The second that Rachel could she ran at Cam. Yelling Cammie's name she threw herself against her daughter, deeper into the shadows of other gallagher girls. Farther into safety. Only after the immediate securing of Cammie did Rachel realize that people were still screaming. It was Macey standing over.....

Abby. Abby. Abigail. She knew Cammie was secured. Joe would help make sure of it. She needed to get to her sister. She needed to help her sister. She was bleeding from the shoulder, there was so much blood pooling beneath her. Rachel couldn't breathe. She couldn't catch her breathe. Rachel had always been cool under fire; a natural operative. This felt so different. The operative in her was mad for missing the fight. For not getting there in time. The mother in her was scared and hurting for her daughter. The sister in her felt cheated and so very crushed. She couldn't lose Abby on top of everything else. Her heart beat to one terrible pulse-  She was not ready to lose anymore family. She dropped to her knees beside her sister. She didn't know if she had told Macey to go back to her roommates but she got up and walked away. Rachel pressed some leather jacket into her sister's wound. She didn't realize that she was crying until she saw her own tears falling on Abby's face. Rachel was screaming. She really. couldn't. breath. She heard screaming and crying in the background. Cammie. She couldn't take this or rather she didn't want to. Her sister way dying in front of her and her daughter was being emotionally tormented. She debating getting up, but she couldn't stop crying. She didn't want Cammie to see her so emotionally distraught and she couldn't bring herself to her feet. Cammie would have to be strong.

Joe was on the seeminly knew what she was thinking because instead of coming toward Abby he commanded the women around Cammie. Keeping her safe. Cammie's sobbing became softer. Rachel's didn't.

She didn't get up when the paramedic team arrived. She wasn't going to leave Abby. She couldn't lose her. She didn't feel like a good operative in control. She felt like a big sister, weak from all that crying. She felt Joe behind her. Pulling her up from her knees. Trying to tell her to let go of Abby's hand. She forced Joe to let go of her arms. Desperate to be the one who fixed it. To do something, anything. All she could do was tell the medic what she saw, and tell Abby that she was going to be ok.

When she turned back around he was there. Teary but not crying yet.

"She's strong. She'll pull through". He tried to reassure her but his voice shook. His hand on her arm felt unsteady. Joe never cried. It was going to be a long night. She had to keep busy. She went to check on her daughter. She couldn't lose any more of her family. 

Rachel saw the footage. She knew in that it all happened in a few minutes. It felt like this night would never end. She watched that security footage obsessively outside of her office, sitting on the corridor floor with her head on the wall, right underneath Gilligan's sword. Cavan's sword. Maybe Abby was right. They should have thrown it in the lake. Her daughter was asleep inside her office, away from danger for now. Abby was in surgery. Abby might of died. Abby could still die. Every time she let herself linger on that fact she felt like crying all over again. So, she didn't let herself think of it. She watched the security clip again waiting and watching for a clue. Something. She couldn't truly focus on it though. She was too tired or emotionally distraught. It didn't matter the reason, she knew that a truly great operative had to know when to wave her white flag. In that moment she didn't even feel a little guilty about turning off the video.

Joe stepped out of her office. She did a double take, the last time she had seen him look that way was the night he told her about Matthew. He had been crying. Joe Solomon does not cry. There he was though. He face was streaked eith tears and his shoulders shook slightly. She braced herself for the worse but he just stood there. He looked awful. She moved forward to give him a hug. She couldn't help herself, she started crying again too. Rachel hated to cry in front of anyone but she figured that this secret was safe with him, just like any of the other she had shared with him.  She was thankful that she had a freind in him. Thankful that someone else loved Cammie and was willing to fight for her. 

After a moment they separated and sat down on the corridor floors.

"I'm so sorry Rachel. I'm so so sorry."

"For what?"

"For everything."

"Joe. After everything that's happened tonight, we are not going over this again..  Its not your fault". Joe started to cry again. Rachel hadn't seen Joe cry so much. She couldn't resist asking him

"What?"

He looked at her pitifully. "You don't know whats my fault, belive me. I.... I think you should think it's my fault."

She wasn't suprised that he was saying these things. She knew of course that he felt guilty. Matt went on the mission he was supposed to. She just wished that he didn't get so hung up on it.

He continued "This never would have happened if Matt were here. He would have taken care of it, you know?"

Of course she didn't know that to be true but she had felt it as well. She didn't want to dwell on what it could have been so she told him that they didn't know that. That he couldn't control who the director sent on that mission. The circle might have come after Cammie even if Matt was alive. Matthew was just a human being, who made mistakes. They didn't know if Matthew being alive would change everything. Joe didnt seem convinced though and Rachel couldn't blame him. It was well worn territory in a familiar conversation. They didnt truly fight, but when it came to blame about Matthews death they didn't exactly see eye to eye. Rachel thought about Matt. It struck her though that as bad as it was at times it could also be worse. Rachel thought about losing Cammie or Abby or even Joe and shuddered. She didn't want to lose anymore family.

She tried to reassure him

"Hey, it will be ok. We will take care of it together ok? We'll all take care of one another. We will do the best we can. Just promise me we will try. Ok?"

Joe had stopped crying but his attention seemed to be drifting.

"I'll try...ok?" It sounded so defeated. Rachel didn't want to press him further. Everyone had already had such a rough night. She let the conversation go until he quipped.

"I feel like I should be telling you these things."

They couldn't help each giving a small laugh

They sat there. They waited for a doctor to come tell them that Abby would make it. They sat and waited for Cammie to wake up. Theorized ways to keep her out of harms way. They talked about surviving. All of them. Together.

Rachel rested in knowing that at least for that day. She wasn't losing any more family. 

[sweeethinny]

Hi, Sweet! Ooh, thank you so much for sending me a prompt, I'm working on it! If you could please write "Just close your eyes. I will still be here when you open them again" for any ship, my only request is that it's in some kind of AU. I love your AUs!

Sorry for the delay Mah, hope you like this Jily Muggle AU <3

Ps: for those who don't know, Valentine's Day is celebrated on the 12th of June in Brazil, and in June we have what we call the 'June Party', where it's time to exalt Brazilian folklore, and - for those who are Catholics - is the month of June Saints, the saints who baptized Jesus.

This month, there are parties where people go dressed as hillbillies, there is a lot of food, depending on the party, drinks, a lot of dancing, and it is for many the best time of year.

Couples tend to go matching, always wearing plaid clothes, with lace, ruffles and patches, and usually women braid their hair, paint their cheeks pink and men - for those who don't - paint a fake beard on their faces. They also wear a straw hat, and everything is very colorful.

A typical outfit for you, you understand more or less how it is <3 - HERE and HERE

I hope you all like it, I always like to insert a little of my culture in the fanfics <3

read bellow the cut <3

"Just close your eyes. I will still be here when you open them again" He said, kneeling in front of her.

"Unfortunately," she said, but there was a smile on her face, a smile that James thought was adorable, and it matched her sun-rosy cheeks and the flaming strands of hair that fell over her face.

“I'll pretend to believe you.” He smiled, grimacing when she threw up again, what now felt like just water. "I'll never let you drink again."

"I never want to drink again," Lily laid her head on the toilet seat, her eyes almost closed and stared at James as if she was unable to focus her vision but was trying. The noise from the backyard party was still loud, but inside, the two of them on the bathroom floor, the silence was comforting.

"Famous last words." He shrugged, wanting to laugh but feeling sorry for her, who looked like she wanted to throw up some more. "Evans, you better pull yourself together, or I'll have to take you to the hospital, and I think it's the last place you want to go." James raised his eyebrows, wanting her to remember exactly where they were.

The idea at first was good; a weekend among friends at James' grandparents' farm, abusing every last drop of trust his parents had in him and Sirius. They promised they'd take care of the house, and it was going to be quiet, but now, when he looks out the window and sees Remus jumping off the roof into the pool, and Peter upside down trying to drink beer, he thinks things have lost a bit the control.

As long as nobody ended up in the hospital and nothing was broken, everything was perfect.

The nearest hospital was over two hours away, and none of them had the ability to drive for so long on a dirt road that it took a lot of concentration not to end up with a mired or overturned car.

"I'll be fine." She settled on the floor, leaning her back against the cool wall behind her and closing her eyes. It took James a lot of concentration to keep his eyes off her perfectly sculpted breasts, gorgeous in that black bikini. Her tanned skin made it difficult.

"Can you get up?" James asked, no longer able to stand being in such a small space with Lily so close to him, even though she had been vomiting less than a minute ago. She nodded and accepted his hand when he reached out.

James helped her wash her face and the back of her neck, trying not to think too much about how hot her skin was and how the scent of sunscreen and Lily blended together perfectly.

"Are you better, Evans?" Sirius appeared just as they walked out of the bathroom, cheeks rosy from the sun and alcohol, hair pulled back in a bun and bathing trunks falling over his hips. He had a smirk on his face, which James thought was the drinking's fault, but when Hestia walked out of the room Sirius had just left, her hair messier than before and her bikini smoothing, James understood what was happened. ‘Or do we need to call for help for you?'

"I'm great, Black." Lily tossed her hair back, as if she wanted to prove her point to him. “Dressing problems, Hess?” The girl was almost to the back door, ready to go unnoticed, but she stopped as soon as she heard her name.

Her cheeks caught fire, but her smile didn't waver.

"Yes, the knot was too tight." Hestia shrugged, pointing to the knot in her tanned back. "Sirius was helping me." James chuckled, noticing when Sirius nodded, trying to look as innocent as possible.

"I'm sure he helped." Lily looked at Sirius, then at Hestia, finally walking towards the door, her ass looking like the hottest thing in the world.

"Careful not to drool, Prongs." Sirius slapped the back of his head, looking like he wanted to wake him up from the perverted dream he was having, his drunken brain imagining everything he could do if Lily stopped looking at him just as a friend.

“You're imagining things, you idiot.” He defended himself, following the three of them outside.

The day was sunny, and even with a little wind, there was a mass of hot air that made them sweaty even when they were standing still. Everyone was sporting a tan/redness from their carelessness, and tomorrow probably wouldn't be so kind to them, but James knew that no one here was caring about tomorrow and the possible side effects of spending too much time in the sun.

It was Sirius who had come up with the idea, after looking tired of hearing complaints from Peter and Hestia about how hot it was and how they wanted to go swimming somewhere. James had blamed him for just organizing this because it was a reason for him to see Hestia in bikinis, because this wasn't the first summer Peter had complained about the heat, but it was the first that the girls had joined their group.

They had met in college, Lily was in the lab with Peter, and Marlene was in the same class as James, and when Remus asked Hestia to have lunch with them, somehow they had all become friends.

It was a unlikely group, James admitted that, but having Marlene, Lily and Hestia around always seemed to make their group much more alive and complete somehow, even though James had never thought they needed more members.

As he sat down on the lounge chair next to Lily, James wondered what she would do if he tried to flirt with her; would she repay or would she push him away and their group would break up? He'd seen how a little shocked she looked when he'd taken off his shirt, but maybe it was the tattoos that had caused it to her.

"I always thought you were too much of a mama's boy for that," she'd said, pointing to his chest, where a constellation was drawn.

Maybe that was just the shock, but James liked to think there was something else, and before she wanted to throw up her guts, he was thinking that Lily was returning the flirting start they were having, sitting by the pool while James gave her his seductive smile.

"Feeling better?" James looked over at her, lying on the lounger with her sunglasses on and her belly white with sunscreen.

"Yes now." Lily sighed. "Sorry I made you see me in that situation."

"Nothing." James shrugged. "I've gotten a lot worse, don't worry…" He took a deep breath, gathering his chest boldly and thanking that his mind was a little clouded by the beer. "Lily, are you going with anyone to Liz's party?"

Liz was a girl who studied with James, they were classmates in the Philosophy class, she was a Brazilian exchange student, and had said that she would have a party to celebrate Valentine's Day on the same date that was celebrated in Brazil, and that it was a party with the themed 'june party', which implied that they dressed in checkered clothes, or round and lace-filled dresses. She had also said that they should go as couples, but for singles, there would be something like a kissing chain or something, James hadn't quite understood.

From the photos she had shown, it looked interesting, and any opportunity to ask Lily out, James was taking it.

"I hadn't thought to go, until now." She turned her head toward him, and James cursed her sunglasses, preventing him from seeing those beautiful green eyes. ‘Are you asking me on a date?

"Could be if you want," He smiled, hoping it was seductive enough.

"Are you asking me on a date after you saw me throw up?" This time Lily lifted her glasses, and her green eyes glared at him, her eyebrow raised and an adorable little smile on her lips.

"I said I've been worse." James bit his cheek, a little anxiously. 'Then? Do you want to be my partner? I can wear a dress if you like, I look really cute in lace.” He winked, just to make her laugh—and she did.

"I want," Lily put her glasses back on, and lay back down. 'Just because I want to see you wearing lace and ruffles… I promise to be a good gentleman and court you.' It was he who laughed now, thinking it was alcohol that made him feel silly like that, laughing at anything she said and with all those butterflies in the stomach.

"Fine, can't wait." He grinned from ear to ear, he would probably have his face torn open if he continued like this, but he was too happy to care.

He was going on a date with Lily Evans.

[kays-gmm-fanblog]

ahhhh okay. I apparently have no chill, so here's a little over 2k of under the desk blowjob

what a way to returning to writing fanfic after about four years off, lol

it's all under the cut because... yeah it's definitely rated E

also thank you @captainsourwolf for the encouragement - I'm still nervous af, but so it goes

“you have to say take a dip, man”

“take a dip”

“Really man, did you have to call out Tumblr like that?”

It’s 7pm and they’re both at their desks at the studio, finishing up some last-minute research. Of course, Rhett was used to Link doubling back with commentary on their recordings even days after they happened, and the dipping sauce episode had only been done that morning.

He smirked and offered, “Man there’s some weird shit going happening on Tumblr like every day, don’t pretend like you don’t know that. Besides, I just sent a good portion of the Beasts scrambling to worry about all the dirty things they post.”

Link shrugged, “Yeah alright, but it seemed like a weak joke. Like oh, yeah, blowjobs, funny. Very middle school of you.”

“Man, blowjobs are funny. Who do you think decided it was a good idea to stick someone’s dick in their mouth for fun? Probably that same dude that decided to try milking a cow for the first time. Just sticking his mouth where it doesn’t belong for the sake of exploration.”

“I think blowjobs predate milk, bo.” He paused for a second, considering, “Besides the desk isn’t even tall enough for that to make sense. I’d have to rest my head sideways in your lap, how effective is that? And I’d know. I was down there earlier.”

Rhett had had turned back to his computer somewhere in the middle of the bickering, but at that, he spun back around.

“Nuh uh. Not if I lowered my chair down.”

“Even then your giant slenderman legs would be poking me in the shoulders. It wasn’t a well-thought-out joke, that’s all I’m saying.”

Rhett frowned at that. There was room, Link was just being contrary to prove a point. But now his desire to win had been triggered. Plus the idea of Link under the desk was… intriguing, to say the least. He stood up from the desk and walked over to Link, grabbing the hand that was resting on the desk and tugging him toward the door. Link raised his eyebrows, even as he allowed himself to be pulled up and over, and Rhett added

“Come on, you won’t believe me until I prove it.”

Link rolled his eyes but followed behind, his wrist still in Rhett’s grasp, as they made their way down the hallway. Thankfully the part of the team that was coming in live these days had all already left for home. This wasn’t a test he wanted anyone to see, no matter who was right.

When they made their way into the studio, Rhett plopped himself into his usual seat and pulled on the lever to lower his chair to its shortest height. He pulled away from the desk a bit and gestured down, as if to say see, there’s your opening!

Link just folded his arms and raised an eyebrow.

“Come on Link, trust me on this.”

Link paused for a second, and then chuffed out a laugh. “You have to say take a dip, man.”

Rhett smiled, “Take a dip.”

Link dropped himself to a crouch and then forward onto his knees far more quickly than Rhett anticipated, given both Link’s reluctance and the tightness of his skinny jeans. Rhett felt his dick give a twitch at that – he’d been half-hard since he’d started dragging Link over to the set, and watching his best friend crawl under the desk and prepare to simulate sucking his cock didn’t do much to help.

Link backed himself up under the desk and Rhett automatically raised a hand to the back of Link’s floofy hair, guarding him from hitting his head on the edge. He watched as the other man curled in on himself to fit fully under the desk.

When he was settled, Link looked up with a half-smile and said “Alright man, scootch in.”

Rhett moved his chair forward until his knees met the resistance of Link’s torso and then paused, unsure of how to continue. Link placed his palms on Rhett’s knees and spread his legs for him, pulling Rhett closer in the process. Rhett looked down and his breath hitched at the sight - strong, warm hands moving their way up his thighs and a pair of bright blue eyes staring back at him. Link leaned in closer and bumped his chin on Rhett’s left knee, butting against him like a cat.

“See I told you, there isn’t room between your thighs and the desktop for my head” he thunked his head gently against the rim of the desk to prove his point, “Even with your chair all the way down, I’d get stuck. I’d have to tilt like this…”

At that, he turned his head at a forty-five degree angle and rubbed his cheek up Rhett’s thigh, bringing himself level with the bulge in front of him.

“Then again, it appears you don’t mind how I turn, do you? Little excited up there?”

Rhett coughed a bit and shrugged. “I mean, if you were at this angle you’d understand. Look atcha down there, on your knees for me, just waiting for me to take control.”

At that, Link smirked again and shook his head. “Do you think I don’t have control down here? Believe me, there’s more power on the giving end than there is receiving.”

He brushed a palm over Rhett’s cock and smiled at the shuddering breath that came from the man above him. He traced his way around the outline of Rhett’s growing erection, rubbing softly at the head as he passed from side to side. Rhett shifted, instinctively moving his hips closer to whatever was going to happen.

Link met Rhett’s eyes and tilted his head, wordlessly asking if he should continue. Rhett was nodding his head yes before he even realized what he was doing. There was no way he wanted this to stop. His hands curled around the bottom of the seat of his chair, doing his best to hold still in anticipation. Link’s hands moved their way toward his zipper.

“You want a hand with that, buddy?” He offered to Link, mouth dry and voice softer than usual.

“Nope, I’m good down here. You just keep your hands right where they are and behave.”

Link’s normally fidgety hands seemed pretty sure as they popped open the button on his jeans and unzipped his zipper. Rhett’s only contribution was to lift his hips off the chair as Link proceeded to slide his jeans and boxers down in one motion, until he was left sitting, bare-assed on his chair, with his dick straining up toward his stomach. Link moved his hands back to Rhett’s knees to push him away from the desk, scooting himself forward in the process so he could unfold from underneath the table.

He looked up at Rhett, admiring the blush on his cheeks and the way he couldn’t seem to decide where to hold his gaze – Link’s hands, his mouth, his eyes, or his own dick as it twitched, precome beading at the top in anticipation. The kneeling man moved his hands up Rhett’s thighs again, this time making skin to skin contact as he moved closer. He leaned over and pressed a soft, almost gentle, kiss to the rosy tip of Rhett’s dick, dotting his own lips wet with precome in the process.

He opened his mouth and Rhett gulped, unwilling to say anything and risk breaking the spell. Unfortunately, Link didn’t have the same concern. His eyes glinted and instead of moving down, he said “Told you there wasn’t room under the desk.”

Before Rhett could even process the jibe, Link was in action, mouth slowly sinking down around the tip of his dick, tongue sliding against his frenulum in a french kiss as dirty as the previous one was chaste. Rhett’s hands tightened around the chair and he let out a grunt, his legs spreading as far as they could with his pants around his ankles.

Link moved his head down further, taking Rhett deeper into his mouth and letting out a pleased-sounding hum. He rubbed his thumbs soothingly across Rhett’s thighs as he braced himself, holding the position as deep as he could for the moment and then starting to lift off again. As Link made his way back up, Rhett closed his eyes, afraid that if he watched this was going to end too quickly. Instead, it just gave him an even stronger jolt when Link’s tongue traced along a vein on the bottom of his dick as he came up for air.

He released from Rhett’s dick with a pop of his lips, looking at the slick mess he left behind, before tilting his head up to look at the man above him.

“Hey, eyes open, man. I’m down here working, the least you could be doing is appreciating!”

Rhett opened his eyes and let out the breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, letting out something that was almost a giggle. He smiled down at Link and, without thinking, reached up his left hand to push Link’s bangs out of his eyes. He caught himself before he made contact and paused, looking for permission, since was apparently supposed to be holding still.

“Can I?” he asked, waiting for an answer.

Link seemed to think it over for a second. “Yeah, you can touch. Even with both hands in my hair, I promise you I’m still the one running the show down here.”

There was no arguing with that at this point. Rhett gently brushed the hair back from Link’s face, noting the flushed skin of his cheeks and the damp redness of his lips. He released the seat of his chair with his other hand and used both hands to gently remove Link’s glasses, folding their arms and setting them securely on top of the desk for safekeeping. He returned his hands toward his body, resting them on his thighs, on top of Link’s, as the other man leaned back and started softly licking and sucking up and down his cock again.

Link’s lips drifted to the base as he tilted his head sideways and licked a hot stripe from the bottom all the way back up, laving attention at the top. Rhett felt even more precome leaking out and he moaned almost in tandem with Link as the other man licked it up. Link flicked his tongue across the slit to collect as much slick as possible before closing his mouth around the top of Rhett’s cock again. He began a steady rhythm up and down, with a pause now and again to lick around the head and meet Rhett’s eyes with a coquettish glance.

He continued making soft little noises as he went, sending vibrations shuddering through Rhett’s dick straight to his spine. Rhett’s hands gripped at Link’s until he felt the left one move away to grasp the base of his cock and work in tandem with the slick mouth moving around him.

After a minute, Link pulled off again, and with a raspy voice, chastised “I don’t think I was clear enough before.” He paused and then continued, “Put your hands. In my hair. Now.”

Rhett obeyed without a second thought, winding his fingers into the strands of hair on either side of Link’s head. He could control the pace, but not the sensation, as Link applied suction and the movement of his hand to Rhett’s erection.

As time went on Rhett felt himself building closer and closer, Link seemingly taking him deeper with each bob of his head. He felt the telltale signs of his release and tapped against Link’s head gently, moaning “I’m getting close.”

Link didn’t even stop, simply letting out an encouraging “mmm” sound and increasing the tempo of the hand wrapped around his best friend’s dick. With a loud groan Rhett released, hips stuttering at the feeling of Link swallowing around him as he came.

As he regained his senses, he found himself petting his hands through Link’s hair, even as the other man pulled off of his cock and looked up at him. Link leaned his head against Rhett’s thigh and looked up with a smile, before asking,

“Good?”

Rhett let out a bark of laughter. “So good. Very, incredibly good.”

“Even though there wasn’t room for me under the desk?”

“Okay, okay, you win.”

After a second to catch his breath fully, he rolled his chair back a bit and reached out his hands to help Link stand up. Rhett noticed a telltale bulge in the other man’s pants and he straightened up, and thought to himself that maybe they both won this one.

[buckys-other-punk]

Hold on..THIS IS YOU?!

Pairing: Sebastian Stan x Reader

Request: where she is a fanfic writer and Sebastian stumbles upon her blog and messaged her as well not letting her know who he was but being an open person she is as to who she was, sending pictures and all, and until one day, decides to meet with her and she is surprised that it was the one she was writing for?

Word Count: 3.6K

Warnings: fluff, sarcasm (of course) and cussing? i think that’s all

A/N: Hello my lovelies. I am sorry I haven’t been posting as much, but that’s usually how I roll..no jk I legit had no time to write because of my classes this semester, so if this sucks I’m sorry lol. I’m still trying to get back into my writing groove...Also don’t mind my minor mistakes 😅

A/N 2: Anyways I AM BACK AND this is my first request ever!! I’m so excited to write this, I am soo sorry this took forever, but hope I did your request justice and that you like it (and so do others). I feel like I wrote this kinda cheesy, but whatever.

[Y/B/N = your blog name]

As always lemme know if you wanna be tagged in my future works and feedback is very much appreciated. Enjoy! <3

Just another normal day without stress and a less anxiety filled world...no, today was actually awful. You were swamped with work and your best friend was complaining about her boyfriend. Let’s just say that the stress she was having with him was making you feel happy that you were single. Trying to relax you heated up some coffee (a/n: or tea) and sat on the couch of your small apartment. Grabbing your laptop you wanted to unwind reading. Probably some fanfics on Tumblr usually does the trick. 

After reading some pretty good marvel related fics by your mutuals, you got inspired to write some fics yourself. Opening up a new tab you began writing about your favorite actor, Sebastian Stan. That man literally makes your miserable day a little better. Sadly, like all the girls and women who fantasize over him, he doesn’t know you. But, whatever right? You can always use your imagination and conjure up a make believe world where the two of you are happily engaged and have a German Shepard puppy named Stitch. Shaking your head to clear your thoughts, you opened another tab on your laptop to pull up your writing playlist, you began typing away on your keyboard writing a new AU where you’re the celebrity of the world you were creating and he was a huge fan of you. After you finished your new fic, you posted that immediately without edits because you were so excited to see people read it.

*across town*

“Have you guys ever read any fanfiction about your characters or yourselves?” the interviewer asked the pair.

“You know I’ve seen a few that were quite impressive. These writers are damn creative.” Anthony replied with a smile. “I will also not lie. I’ve read a few steamy ones and y’all are dirty.” he added with a slight disgusted face shaking his head towards the camera.

“What about you Sebastian? Have you read any?” the interviewer lady asked, looking over to the man.

“Honestly. I haven’t.” Sebastian chuckled looking back at her. “Maybe, if Mackie here finds a good one about me I’ll give it a read.” shrugging towards his friend.

“Oh man, I got a few that are worth reading.” Mackie laughed, rubbing his hands together.

“Hey, might as well share them with the world. Let’s give that writer a shout out!” she exclaimed, placing her notecards on her lap.

“Well, like I’ve said I’ve only read a bit, but I do have some blogs that I’ve saved. Maybe next time I’ll name drop a few and give fans some well deserved praise.” Anthony smiled looking at the two.

“Alright, well you better have a huge list for me.” the lady said with a smile looking at Anthony. “Thank you both again for your time. For everyone watching Falcon and the Winter Soldier comes out in March 2021.” She finished off the interview smiling and waving at the camera and the two men followed her actions as well. Once the cameras and mics were turned off the lady came back to the two men.

“Thank you again guys for your time” the lady said to the pair shaking their hands (a/n: ok let's pretend there is no corona in this world so yeah. Everyone is healthy and so is the world!). The two replied with a simple you’re welcome and another thanks in return.

“Wait, have you really read fanfiction before?” Sebastian asked his co-star as the pair walked towards their manager, who was waiting for them outside the room, getting their schedule for the pair’s next interview.

“I mean yeah. I got curious on what people were writing about us and our characters.” Anthony responded with a shrug looking down at his phone.

“Aren’t most of those like fifty shades of grey?” Sebastian asked, staring at his friend as stood near their manager.

“Only if you want them to be..” Mackie stared at his friend with a blank face as they came to an abrupt stop. “Nah man, I’m just playing. Some of them are steamy, others can be sad, like crazy sad and some are like tooth rotting cute. Like I recently read one that was with Captain America and this original character that the author came up with and it made me say ‘aww’ when I finished it. Me. A grown man said ‘aww’ after reading a fanfic. A FANFIC!” he added. Their manager quickly explained their schedule and walked them over to their car to head off to the next location. The two were seated at the back, while their manager sat next to the driver.

“You know what. Send me that story you read.” Sebastian said to Anthony.

“Are you sure Seb?” Anthony asked with a chuckle.

“Yeah, why not.” he replied with a shrug. “Might as well read a good story before our next interview.”

“Alright let me send it to you right now. Honestly I think this writer is one of my favorites. I don’t know if it's her writing style or how she portrays our characters, but she’s amazing.” Mackie said with a smile getting the fic he recently read and sending it to his friend. 

“So all her stories are good?” Sebastian asked, looking at the notification.

“I just said that she is my favorite writer.” Anthony looked at his friend with a ‘are you serious face.’ 

“Okay. Okay.” Seb said with his arms up in defense. After a few minutes of reading the fanfic Sebastian actually said ‘aww’ aloud just like Mackie after he first read the story.

“It was good wasn’t it.” Anthony asked with a toothy grin.

“Yeah this was really good. Y/B/N is a pretty good writer.” Sebastian said looking through your feed.

“You should tell her!” Anthony exclaimed.

“What, like make an account?” Seb asked.

“Well yeah, but I mean not your actual name of course. Make a fan account. Show these writers your appreciation, I know that if I were an author I would love that (a/n: wink wink). I’ve messaged a few writers complimenting their work without actually telling them who I am.” Anthony said, placing his hand on his friend’s shoulder.

“I’m gonna read more stuff from her before I message her.” Sebastian chuckled. Sebastian clicked onto your main blog page to find that you had just posted a new fic about him. “Wait, dude she just posted a new story...About me!” Sebastian exclaimed, showing his phone to Anthony. 

“Nice, but we have to finish these interviews. You gotta read it during your free time man, sorry to crush your dreams.” he chuckled, unbuckling his seat belt and getting out of the car. Sebastian sighed and followed his co-stars actions getting out of the car and continuing the rest of his day filled with interviews.

*later that evening*

After the interviews Anthony and Sebastian had dinner together at a fancy restaurant. During their dinner they talked about how crazy some interviews were. Sebastian brought up the subject of how Mackie publicly announced that he had read fanfiction. With that still stuck in his mind the two finished their meal and after parting ways. Sebastian took a cab and arrived at his apartment, changed out of his fancy suit to some comfy clothes and grabbed a bottle of water from his fridge. He walked over to his couch turning on the tv, not really paying attention to what was playing, grabbing his phone he opened the tumblr app finally creating an account.

*one week later*

Sebastian has read almost all of your works and texting Anthony almost every time after he has finished a new fic giving his reactions to each. He has liked and reblogged everything he has read from you and other writers, but he favors your stuff the most.

Mackie: dude you should tell her you like her stuff and stop texting me!

Seb: Alright I will, I just don't know what to say.

Mackie: Just say you like her work. It's as simple as that.

Seb: okay okay I will

Mackie: ok good, no stop texting my its legit 2 am

Seb: fine

Sebastian opened up the messaging area of the app and began typing away his appreciation to you. He didn’t know why he felt so nervous after he pressed send. Getting out of the app completely he tried to focus on whatever was playing on the tv. Then all of a sudden he heard a notification go off and his phone light up. Looking down on it he saw that it was a notification from you. Again his nervousness took place as he unlocked his phone to read the notification. The app opened and the direct message filled his phone screen.

(a/n: this is my first time using a fake dm thingy so just imagine that Seb is following you)

Seb: Holy shit dude, she actually replied back to me!

Mackie: Well of course she did, she's not a robot. But maybe she is since she’s up so late...

Seb: shut up and why are you still up? I though you were mad at me for texting you

Mackie: well you woke me up so what am i supposed to do

Seb: whatever I’ll let you go

Mackie: alright. bye lover boy 

Sebastian shook his head at the text, he went back to the app to reply back to you. “What should I say?” he said to himself. “Maybe she’s in a different time zone or lives across the world or something… Okay okay. Maybe be chill and say I hope i didn’t wake you? No that sounds weird.” he shook his head trying to come up with something to say. Eventually he fell asleep trying to think of what to say to you.

*the next morning/later that day*

Sebastian woke up with his phone gone from his hand. He quickly got out of his bed in panic to look for it. Maybe you had said something to him or he had said something dumb to you. Once he found his phone he quickly unlocked it to check and thank god he didn’t say anything stupid. But he didn’t say anything. He shook his head clearing his thoughts. “Alright I think I know what to say.”

Y/N’s POV

You woke up to the sound of cars honking, groaning you looked at your clock. “How is it already 10 am?” you said aloud to nobody in particular. You sat up on your bed and grabbed your phone scrolling through various social media apps. At the top of your screen you saw a notification from tumblr. Opening the app to the notifications section, you noticed it was a blog that had messaged you from earlier in the morning.

sebstan_fan: Nice to meet you Y/N. I’m Carter. I don’t know where you live, but I just woke up and had a dream about one of your fics. (wow I hope that didn’t sound creepy)

You smiled at the message, since you loved interacting with your followers.

y/b/n: haha its ok. I actually live near New York City and I also woke up. What was your dream about? (if i can ask)

Sebastian’s POV

Sebastian had just finished taking a shower and began preparing his late breakfast. “Holy shit she replied again!” he said to himself looking at the message.

sebstan_fan: Wait, you live near NYC! Me too! Wow such a small world. But anyways my dream was honestly just a reenactment of your fic.

y/b/n: that’s so crazy how we live near each other lol. But that's so cool how you dreamt about my work. You must have really liked it.

sebstan_fan: yeah it was really interesting how you wrote such a life like scenario.

y/b/n: thank you Carter <3

sebstan_fan: ok I now this is random, but what’s your favorite place to eat in New York?

y/b/n: ooh that’s tough. Let’s go with Lombardi’s since its the very first pizza place to open in the US

sebstan_fan: oh wow an excellent choice :)

*a couple weeks later*

You and your new tumblr friend have been talking about one another’s favorite hobbies and interests for the past few weeks. You feel like you have grown a new connection with your new friend and telling them about your shitty days at work. Today your best friend wanted to bring you with her and her boyfriend to some fancy restaurant. 

y/b/n: Carter, I’m practically third wheeling with her and her boyfriend. 

sebstan_fan: well that sounds awful. Where is she taking you?

y/b/n: idk to some fancy restaurant I’ve never heard of. Anyways she’s making me wear fancy clothes, but I just wanna wear my pajamas!

sebstan_fan: y/n come on. you gotta dress nice if other people are dressing nice too 

y/b/n: ughh ok I think I found something nice. *sends picture of yourself in an elegant dress* what about this?

Seb’s POV

Sebastian got a glass of water and sat back down on his couch. Unlocking his phone to see the new dm from you he spit his water out of his mouth wetting the coffee table in front of him. “HOLY SHIT SHE’S GORGEOUS!” he yelled aloud staring at his phone in awe of your beauty.

sebstan_fan: Y/N, you look amazing! That dress is literally making you glow!

y/b/n: stop you’re making me blush..my friend just pulled up. I’ll dm you later once this stupid night is over. 

sebstan_fan: alright have fun 

y/b/n: <3

Sebastian quickly called Mackie to tell him that you sent him a photo of yourself. 

“Dude, she is unbelievably gorgeous. I actually spit my water out all over my coffee table when I saw the picture. ” Sebastian said on the phone.

“Man you are so obsessed with her, it's kinda creepy.” Anthony replied through the phone.

“What? No man, we just clicked. We have a bunch in common and she’s really easy to talk to.” Sebastian gushed to his friend.

“Yeah, but she doesn’t know that you’re lying to her about your real identity. You’re like fucking Superman with a secret persona!” Anthony snickered at the man on the other line.

“Dude no, but I’ll tell her eventually that I’m me.” Seb replied back to Anthony.

“Well you better do it soon because I’m tired of hearing about you gushing over this woman.” Anthony huffed under his breath. “Anyways I gotta go so bye bitch.” 

Sebastian laughed at his friend hanging up the phone and heading to his room getting ready for bed. As he laid on his bed he couldn’t take his mind off of you in that dress. You were so open with sharing your life to him, a complete stranger, yet he couldn’t do the same.

*the next day*

y/b/n: Carter! I forgot to dm you once I got home, but that dinner was terrible. I hated every minute of it.

sebstan_fan: what happened? Also good morning :)

y/b/n: good morning, sorry if I woke you. But anyways my best friend and her boyfriend brought some dude to make it a double date and the guy was a complete douche. I couldn’t stand a minute being there.

sebstan_fan: damn I’m sorry to hear that. I bet if I was there with you the night wouldn’t have been so bad haha

y/b/n: creepy..jk But I bet we would have completely ditched my friend and her boyfriend lol

sebstan_fan: wait, I got an idea! I mean since we live around the same area why don’t we meet!

y/b/n: what like in person?

sebstan_fan: no through zoom, yes in person!

y/b/n: wow the sarcasm in this one, but that sounds like a lovely idea. I feel like I already know so much about you tho...

Sebastian huffed under his breath, “not everything.”

sebstan_fan: lol yeah but it’ll be different to meet in person. Anyways where should we meet?

y/b/n: lol that’s true. Well I know this small cafe that’s so cute and I heard they have pretty good pastries. It would be awesome to meet there :D

sebstan_fan: alright how about Saturday afternoon? You don��t have work right?

y/b/n: nope I’m off! but that sounds good to me! I’m so excited and nervous at the same time. Like what if you’re some creepy stalker...

Sebstan_fan: why would you accuse me of such a thing?!

y/b/n: lol you know i’m just messing with you. But I gotta go my friend is now calling me, probably about that douche from last night...but I can’t wait to see you Carter!<3

“Yeah, me too.” Sebastian said to himself smiling.

*Saturday*

You sat at the cafe where you told your new tumblr friend to meet you. You ordered a drink and once it was finished, you grabbed it and sat near the windows saving a seat for Carter. As you waited you pulled out your laptop and began on typing away a new fic idea drawing inspiration from the small cafe and the gloomy weather outside. 

“I’m sorry that seat’s taken...” you muttered to a man who pulled out the chain next to you, looking up at the figure. “Holy shit!” you exclaimed to the man who sat next to you.

“Shhhh...Please don’t say anything.” Sebastian whispered to you, sitting on the chair next to you and taking off his sunglasses.

“What? But how? You’re!? I can’t breathe.” you exclaimed erratically looking down at your drink.

“Hey, hey Y/N, just calm down and take slow deep breaths.” he said calmly placing his hand on your back.

“How the fuck do you know my name?!” you exclaimed again staring wide eyed at the actor. “Am I getting pranked or something? Where are the cameras?!” you nervously laughed looking around the empty cafe.

“No, you’re not getting pranked. It’s me Carter…” he said quietly rubbing the back of his head.

“You’re Carter?! I thought you were a girl!” you said looking into the man’s blue eyes.

“I may have lied about who I was, but I wanted to meet you.” he started as he stared down at the ground. “I didn’t want you to freak out knowing that it was actually me.” he said looking back up at you.

“Let me just gather my thoughts for a sec.” you said, putting your hand to your temples.

“Wait, why did you assume I was a girl?” he asked with a smirk.

“I don’t know! Carter is a unisex name.” you frantically said with a shrug. “And I mean most of my followers are female, so I just assumed you were one too.” you added grabbing your drink and taking a sip to calm your nerves.

“That makes sense I guess.” he said chuckling, looking out the big window of the cafe.

“This is so crazy that you are here. Sitting next to me and talking about my stupid tumblr blog.” you uttered. “Like you’re famous!”

“Yeah so what.” he looked back to you. 

“I mean aren’t you busy filming and stuff?” you asked the man.

“Nope, we just wrapped up the interviews a couple of weeks ago. I’m on vacation.” he said with a toothy grin, which made you blush. “Aww look she’s blushing.” he said sweetly towards you.

“Shut up. It’s not like I get to meet my favorite actor who I’ve had a crush on since forever sitting next to me and casually conversing with.” you muttered quickly hoping he didn’t hear your profession of love for him.

“You got a crush on me?” he smiled at you.

“Fuck you. I do not!” you exclaimed looking away from him.

“Aww I think you do.” he said, nudging your shoulder.

“Whatever.” you said under your breath trying to hide your embarrassment.

“Hey, I’m in awe too.” he began, which made you look at him. “It’s not like I get to see a beautiful woman who I like.” he smirked at you.

“I think I’m dreaming. Did you just say you like me?!” you asked pinching yourself back into reality.

“I mean yeah. I really like your work as a writer and the past what month we’ve been talking I think you’re a really cool and sweet person.” he said now blushing. 

“I bet you say that to all the women you meet.” scoffing at his comment.

“No I’m serious Y/N. I think you’re a really talented writer. And I think you’re also really pretty.” again blushing, but this time he looked straight at you.

“Oh, wow. Thank you so much Sebastian.” you hesitated, your cheeks heating up. “That means a lot coming from you.” you smiled.

“Of course. And also I wanted to ask you in person if after coming clear about who I actually am, if you wanted to go out sometime. I know its weird and all sudden but-”

“Yes!” you exclaimed quickly cutting him off. “I mean. I would love to.” you said more calmly. “God, I’m trying so hard to keep my inner fangirl in.” you huffed under your breath. 

Sebastian laughed at your comment and then asked, “Alright then. What about tomorrow I take you out for dinner?” 

“That sounds delightful.” you smiled at the man. The two of you fell silent watching the people who passed by the small cafe.

“Oh, but can I ask you one more question? Why are you wearing a hat? And shades earlier? It's legit rainy and cloudy as hell outside.” you asked, looking at the man with your head resting on your hand.

“I’m going incognito. I don’t want my fans to recognize me.” he replied, taking a sip of his coffee.

“Are you embarrassed of them seeing you with me?” you hesitantly interrogated.

“No, I just don't want them to interrupt our first date.” he responded with a smirk looking at you.

“Wait, this is a date?!” you exclaimed with wide eyes.

“Only if you want it to be sweetheart.” Sebastian smirked, winking towards you.

“Fuck you.” You said with a smile.

A/N: Yay you finished! Was that good? bad? cheesy? lemme know lol Again if you wanna be tagged in future fics, have any requests or just wanna chat hit me up! Thank you guys for reading and I hope you get excited for more stuff to come.

Tags: @lostinthoughtsandfeelings @sebtheromanianprince​ @aquabrie @who-the-hell-is-sebastianstan​ @princess76179​ @anbrax5553​ @wintersoldierissucharide @caplanbuckybarnes​ @miraclesoflove​ @kitkatd7 @msgreenverse @saiyanprincessswanie​ @fandomsandxfiles @hailmary-yramliah @coffeebooksandfandom​ @thefallenbibliophilequote

^please lemme know if you wanna be added to future works or removed for tags^

[carryonmywaywardcaptain]

Imagine...finding out there’s fanfic written about you--and even Charlie ships you with Dean

CarryOnCap’s Masterlist

Warnings: Fluff? Crack? A dramatic fanfic within a fanfic that I got carried away with haha.

A/N: This is kind of ridiculous, but I had fun with it! Also, I’ve never actually seen GoT but it seemed like a reasonable reference from what I’ve heard about it.

“Hey, look who I found!” Sam’s voice echoed through the War Room.

Dean glanced at you from across the table in the library, sharing your surprised expression as you both pushed your chairs away and stood. 

“‘Sup, bitches?” Charlie grinned, making her way up the steps toward you.

“Hey! We were expecting you guys to come in through the main door. We’ve been keeping an ear out.”

Charlie stepped into your outstretched arms and pulled you into a tight hug. “It was a spur of the moment decision, but I decided to stick around a day or two longer than planned! Sam said I could go ahead and park in the garage.”

She let go of you and turned to give Dean a hug too. He smiled softly with a look that was uniquely reserved for her, cradling the back of her head while she pressed her cheek against his.

“Good to see you, Charlie. You know you’re always welcome to stay as long as you want.”

An involuntary smile crept onto your face as you watched them. You couldn’t help the way your heart swelled at the low rumble in his voice when he said her name. There was an undeniable protectiveness in his tone when he spoke to her--the sister he’d never wanted, as he affectionately called her.

When you shifted your attention to her, you noticed she was watching you. Before you could decipher the knowing glint in her eye, she suddenly twisted out of his arms and glanced back and forth between you and Dean. She began swinging her arms awkwardly before opting to cross them over her chest.

“You okay?” Dean asked, furrowing his brow.

“Yeah! Of course...Totes chill...cooler than a pack of peppermints.” She bobbed her head and flashed a nervous smile, twisting her hair around her finger as she struggled to act nonchalant. “It’s just that I remembered something. A story I read a while back--completely random. Totally unrelated to anything--I mean, now I’m starting to ramble. Hah! So how’ve you guys been? Still saving the world from evil sons-of-bitches?” 

“Uh, yeah…” Sam answered, scrunching his eyebrows together. “We stay busy.”

“So what’s on the agenda tonight?” you piped up, changing the subject.

You were hoping to avoid swapping monster stories for a night. Charlie typically assumed the role of introducing you to popular and noteworthy fandoms during her visits to the bunker and, even if the boys weren’t as vocal, the three of you appreciated her knowledge of all things geeky and nerdy. 

“I was thinking Marvel. Y/N, you’re obviously well-versed in the MCU because of your obsession with Steve Rogers--and, you know, clearly you’ve got a thing for the strong, righteous, self-sacrificing hero type. Dean, you could stand to branch out from the Batman references and, Sam, you’ve got this whole Thor kind of vibe going on.”

While Sam and Dean began teasing each other and arguing over “Batman versus Thor,” you gaped at Charlie, wondering what she’d meant by her remark about you having a “type.” You couldn’t help feeling like she was trying to insinuate something, but you shrugged it off and decided maybe it was all in your head.

***

After getting Charlie settled into one of the extra bedrooms, the four of you settled into the Dean Cave and agreed to start with the first Captain America movie. 

Last Christmas, you and Sam had teamed up to surprise Dean with a couch for the Dean Cave. He had originally only had two La-Z-boy recliners and you’d found him fast asleep in the stiff old chairs on more than one occasion. Dean had been over the moon about the extra seating and the three of you had rearranged the furniture so the recliners were angled toward the tv on either side of the couch.

“Dibs on this side of the couch!” Charlie said, diving toward the furthest end from the door.

Although it was subtle, you knew there was still something off about the way Charlie studied all of you. There was definitely something on her mind she was trying to keep hidden from all of you.

“You know, we should probably have some snacks,” you said slowly. “Charlie, you want to come help me grab some stuff from the kitchen?”

“But I’m already comfy in my spot.” She frowned, wiggling her hips to make a point of sinking deeper into the spot she’d claimed on the couch. “Why don’t you have Dean help you?”

When you narrowed your eyes suspiciously, Sam cleared his throat. “Dean, why don’t I help you grab some snacks while Y/N and Charlie...catch up, er, whatever…”

You heard the boys leave the room and waited until their footsteps faded down the hall before you started interrogating her.

“Alright, Charlie--what the hell is going on with you?”

“I don’t know what you're talking about,” she muttered, scrolling through her phone.

“Bull. We lie for a living and I know there’s something you’re not telling us. So spill.”

“Fine,” she sighed. “Okay, so remember the Supernatural books by Carver Edlund?”

“Yeah…”

“The series obviously kind of had a cult following when it was in print, right? Well ever since the unpublished works got uploaded, the following has really taken off. Every once in a while a new one still pops up and the fans love them. And you’re in them now too!”

“I’m...what?”

“I mean it’s just insane and totally got sucked into it too. It’s brought on this whole new wave of fanfiction--”

“What’s fanfiction?” you cut in, struggling to keep up.

“It’s fiction made by the fans about the series. Sometimes they put themselves in the stories and write about working cases and fighting monsters with you guys--”

“Why would anyone want to pretend to do this crap with their lives?”

She stared at you for a moment and frowned. “Because you guys are heroes. I mean, yeah, there’s the whole depressing side of monsters and death and trauma and world-ending apocalypses--but you guys save people. You go on these exciting adventures of good versus evil and a lot of times you win. You save people. The fans really look up to all of you.”

Your gaze fell to the floor as you let her words sink in, but she didn’t give you long before she was rambling again.

“But that’s not even the best part! Everyone ships different OTPs--” she paused, noticing your puzzled expression “--uh, one true pairing… So everyone has a favorite couple they think are soulmates and belong together. There’s stories about Sam with Eileen or Jess, Dean with different people--you get the gist. Sometimes they even make up characters or do these ‘reader inserts’ and imagine themselves with the boys or you but, hands down, everyone’s favorite couple they want to end up together is you and Dean.”

“...what?” 

Your eyes grew wide. It was hard enough to wrap your mind around the fact that strangers who didn’t know you were a real person were reading about your life, but learning they imagined you in different relationships? You’d never admit it out loud, but had it bad for Dean. And hearing you weren’t the only one that wanted the two of you together...

“I’ve gone deep into the fic and I can’t believe I didn’t see it sooner!” Charlie shook you from your thoughts. “You and Dean are perfect for each other. For serious. I usually stick to the fluffy stuff because, you know, your entire life is kind of angsty and I don’t like to read about you guys being in pain or, like, dying...again. Although I definitely have to admit I kind of stumbled into some of the smutty stuff and, wow, that was something else.”

You opened your mouth to ask more questions, but she kept rolling.

“Right, you probably don’t know what that means either. Fluff is the cute stuff that gives us all feels, angst is kind of just what it sounds like, and smut is, well...the sexy stuff.”

“You mean people out there in the world write about me and Dean…”

“Going at it like an episode of Game of Thrones? Oh yeah,” she responded, unlocking her phone. “Here. Here’s an example.”

Swallowing audibly, you took a seat next to her on the couch as she extended her phone toward you. Gnawing your bottom lip, you began reading the words on the screen:

Y/N took a deep breath, holding it in briefly before she exhaled and began walking toward Dean’s room. Ever since they returned from the hunt, Dean had hidden himself away in his room--no doubt blaming himself for everything that had gone wrong.

When she arrived at his door, she raised her hand to knock. She hesitated, almost retreating at the thought of him turning her away, but she had to try. She had to get through to him somehow.

She rapped her knuckles on the raw umber barrier and opened the door of Room 11 before he could tell her to go away. 

She spotted him leaning over the sink, staring at his reflection in the medicine cabinet on the wall. His jade eyes flickered to where she stood in the doorway, their reflection somewhat distorted by cracks that spiderwebbed from where he had struck the mirror.

Her heart seemed to drop into her stomach as she imagined him lashing out, knowing he punched the mirror because he hated the reflection staring back at him. Knowing he always carried the weight of the world on his shoulders when he didn’t need to.

Y/N carefully shut the door and locked it behind her--the click of the deadbolt deafening in the silence. Her eyes never left Dean, who refused to turn and face her. She inched toward him, closing the distance until she could reach out and touch him. Gently placing her hand on his shoulder, she guided him to turn away from the mirror. Still, he refused to meet her eyes.

“Dean…” she breathed, voice barely above a whisper as she cupped his face in her hands. “It’s not your fault.”

He squeezed his eyes closed, face contorting with grief and guilt. The ghosts of his past refused to let him go, but she was determined to make him believe that he was worthy, no matter the cost.

Curling a finger beneath his chin, she tilted his head up, waiting patiently for him to meet her gaze. When his dark green orbs finally met hers, she was surprised to see that they were full of longing and desire. They flickered to her lips, making her breath tremble under the intensity of his gaze. Time seemed to slow until it froze altogether.

Anticipation hung heavy in the air as they both struggled against their desire to maintain the friendship they’d always had and the desperate need to finally cross that line. To succumb to the magnetic pull that had always been evident between the two of them.

Dean swallowed thickly before suddenly rushing forward, crashing his lips to Y/N’s as he pulled her into a searing kiss. He wrapped his strong arms around her, trapping her to his chest, afraid it was all a dream and she would soon disappear. But she gladly melted into his embrace, feeling like she was finally returning home, to a place she’d spent her life searching for.

A moan slipped past her lips as he walked her backward, pressing her up against the wall. She gasped, feeling his--

“The snacks have arrived!”

You jumped in surprise, a small gasp of surprise escaping as the boys appeared with armloads of snacks. Confusion and worry painted Dean’s face as he surveyed your flustered expression. Between his scrutinizing gaze and the content you’d practically been caught reading, your cheeks grew warm. 

“Did I miss something?” Dean asked.

“Nope,” you responded much too quickly.

Charlie’s phone had fallen into your lap and, when she began cackling, you whipped your head in her direction and flung the phone at her thigh. You grimaced and the two of you had your own silent conversation as the boys spread the food across the bar Dean had built on the far wall.

“I was just telling Y/N how pumped I am about seeing my favorite OTP tonight,” she giggled.

“Your...what?”

Dean’s arm brushed yours as he plopped down on the other side of you. The accidental contact sent a wave of chills over your skin, making you shudder. You could feel his eyes on you again, but you refused to look at him.

“Oh, I’m so going down with this ship,” Charlie whispered under her breath before continuing in a louder voice. “Nothing--nevermind! Don’t mind me, just thinking out loud...”

“It says here an OTP means...one true pairing?” Your eyes grew wide as you looked to where Sam was reading his phone from where he sat in one of the recliners. “So, uh, ‘in the fandom realm, OTP refers to the coupling of characters--usually from the sci-fi or fantasy genres--by fans who think they make a great romantic duo and envision their lives together and share their imaginings with other fans.’”*

Charlie doubled over, beside herself with laughter. With your lips pressed into a firm line, you glanced at the boys to gauge their reactions. You knew there was no way they could possibly know what you and Charlie had been talking about, but that didn’t stop you from worrying about what Dean might think if he ever found out about the feelings you harbored for him. 

“So...you’re looking forward to Cap and his girl in the movie? I’m so freaking confused,” Dean grumbled.

“Yeah…” Sam agreed, making his way to the tv. “I’m just, uh...I’m gonna start the movie now.” 

“Good idea.” Charlie peered at you out of the corner of her eye. “Plenty of time to read and talk about all those ships later.”

Although you glared at her, trying to hide your amusement, nothing could deter the smug smile etched upon her face. As Sam turned the lights off and you settled in for another relaxing night with your favorite people, one thing was certain:

You were definitely going to have to take another look at that fanfiction.

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[soothinglee]

Okay (this is the anon from the "too scared to request" ask) I read a fanfic similar to this and it got me thinking. What abt Ranboo x Vampire reader (platonic) where Ranboo basically kills people for money and he, not knowing reader is a vamp, tries to kill them and they pretend to be dead until later where they show up to his house and get revenge by making his life a living hell every day

You can totally ignore if you want I get it if it's too weird or specific for you to write

Revenge (part 1.)

requested?: (yes read above)

Warnings: Mentions of blood, knives, death and a whole lotta angst. (a bit ooc)

 a/n: Non this was perfect! Dw about specific-ness or how ‘weird’ it is, that means you have a good imagination! Also being specific makes it easier for me to write! I hope you enjoy! I tried as best as I could^~*.

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

You and Ranboo had been friends for ages. Ever since he first joined the smp. You always admired how truthful and kind he was. Spilling everything that happened to him in a instant, he trusted you so much that he even told you about everything that happened with Dream when no-one else knew. So the fact that he didn’t tell you that he killed for money hurt.In all honesty you could’ve helped him. But, it was very hypocritical of you. See, you had a secret of your own. You were a vampire. And no one knew.

You planned to keep it that way.

Everyone has been skeptical of how Ranboo got richer and richer every second. They honestly thought that he grinded for hours or worked in tradding materials but it was something different..something worse. You knew exactly what it was. At the dead of night he’d sneak out of his house, clad in Netherite armour and a sword shoved into his pant pocket like clock work. Theres was only one destination in mind. He’d set off to the community house.

Hovering over a tree, you floated in the air watching as ranboo quietly close the spruce door and hesitantly stepped down to avoid the creak of the step. He slings a bag over his shoulder that looks like it could crush anyone under 120 pounds.

‘Whats in the bag?’ you think eying it closely ‘wouldnt be a dead body, he wouldnt keep that in the house especially with Micheal in there.’

Ranboo stumbles here and there until he finally reaches the crafting table covered floor. Three guys stand infront of him. All varying in different heights.One carries a enchanted axe, the one on their right equpied with a bow while the other one is bare-handed. But…there was something else you noticed about their stance…

They were scared.

“Ranboo!” One called walking forward “So nice of you to finally join us.”

Ranboo scoffs walking towards the man but only to stop a little ways from them. He throws the bag on the floor gently. “You know its hard for me to sneak out of there.” He says bending down “Took me ages to put Micheal to bed.”

The guy laughs and shakes his head “I bet, childern are always stubborn. How is micheal now? 3? 4?” He watches as Ranboo opens the black bag slowly, eying it as if a monster is going to pop out and attack him and his goons.

Ranboo looks up at the man through his eyelash from the floor and lets out a laugh “How old my son is shouldnt be your business, punz” he sneers opening the bag a little wider.

Punz looks back to the guys behind him who were now taking off the hoods that layed upon their heads. The two figures behind punz was none other then AntForst and Bad. Its his turn to laugh “Shouldnt I know the things about my client?” to which ranboo huffs out a 'I’m not your client’ under his breath.

Standing up, ranboo towers over punz by a good amount making the boy in white peer up at the hybrid. “Yeah Yeah, whatever. Whats in the bag?” Looking away from ranboo,his gaze drops down to the bag on the floor. A purple-ish light floats from it making punz laugh in greed.

Ranboo huffs again as if hes done this a thousand times.

“He probably has” you mumble, you yourself trying to see what was in the bag without getting spotted.

“Everything you asked for,” He starts picking the bag up with ease “5 enchanted cross-bows, two stacks of arrows, half a stack of diamond blocks and 10 gapples.”

The men whoop and Punz goes to reach for the bag but his hand is slapped away by Ranboos freckled one.”No. This is not how the trade works, you know that. Dont get greedy. I dont sell to greedy people.”

Punz sighs and rolls his eyes but nonetheless takes out 10 blocks of netherite and 4 blocks of gold. “This what you wanted?” he asks making ranboo nod to conform. “Alright then on the count of 3 we had over our respected items and go our marry little way, alright?” Ranboo nods again. He can sense something- no. Someone lurking.

“Alright then 1,” Punz takes a step forward towards Ranboo and ant and bad do the same. Ranboo stays where hes at. “2,” Ranboo stays still once again but this time slowly reaches for something in his back pocket. The boys don’t notice but you do.

“Oh god ranboo please dont let that be what I think it is..” You gasp covering a hand over your mouth. From the your place up in the air you know take position on the ground barely visible behind a tree.

“3″ Ranboo pulls the sword that once was rested in his pocket and swings it into punzs’ stomatch. A bewildered look flashes across punzs’ face as he stares into Ranboos eyes. He grunts and falls forward but ranboo catches him before he can crash. While the knife is still in punzs’ stomach he lies him down getting his blood all over his hands.

Theres a scream couple feet in-front of Ranboo.

‘Crap,’ He panics looking up quickly and noticing the two men inching away from him ‘I forgot they were there!’

Ranboo slowly inches forward slowly to not cause any alarm. Ant speaks up for the first time in 30 minutes “Ranboo you dont want to do this...” He puts his hands up in defence. “Me and Bad can just move on! Forget about it! Just please...” his sentence trails off.

Ranboo twirls the knife in his hand. The blade soaked to the brim in blood. He shakes his head slowly...sadly. “I’m sorry but...I cant have any witnesses” with that he teleports infront of them and with one swift motions they take their place on the floor. Now, there are three bodies.

‘This is too much, whats going on? Whats...whats happening?’ You scream inside your mind. Thoughts running a mile a minute. This wasn't  the Ranboo you knew and loved. This wasn't him.

Your body moves before you think and now your standing behind Ranboo as his shoulders shake. It hard for you to look away from the blood. The smell is strong and the desire to eat is stronger. But, you have to focus on the point at hand...

“what the heck is going on?!” That got his attention. He head snaps backwards so hard you think he might've snapped his neck. Your voice didn't register in his head until he saw your crazed look, fear danced in your eyes as you look at the enderman dressed in black. You were bent forward slightly, both hands wrapped around your baby blue robe eying the sword that rest in his palm.

Tears sprout in his eyes as he trips over his words. “(Y-Y/N)?What are you doing here?” He tries to walk towards you stops when you take a step backwards.

“I could ask you the same thing.” Your voice wavers in disbelief. “Why? WHY?! Why didn't you tell me this was happening? I thought we tell each other everything!”

Ranboo whimpers and shakes “we do..we do..we do..” he cries “im sorry..im sorry im so sorry...”

You scoff and take the hand from your robe and place it on your cheek, eyes stuck to the ground. You cant bare to look him in the eye. “why..why are you sorry? hmph? Are you sorry for brutally MURDERING THEM AND THEN GETTING CAUGHT! AND FOR WHAT?! THEIR MONEY?!” Anger was now in place of fear. You looked up and looked straight into his eyes. Remorse is written all over his face.

this causes him to shake more. “no, im sorry for what im about to do..” in the blink of a eye he teleports behind you and places the cold, metal object to your neck. “I love you so much...remember that” and with a quick slash you join the bodies on the floor.

Thick tears fall from his eyes bound to make scars later. With one deep breath he says these finals words before the darkness fades in “There shall be no witnesses.. im sorry (y/n)”

is this what betrayal feels like?

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