#and now that ko-fi moved one button I THINK just slightly down it's throwing me off my rhythm

[deepseaspriteblog]

Happy Friday! Have some trolls. A very random set again this week, but hopefully I'll have something a lot more halloween-y next week! I think my favorite is the bronze troll, for how simple they look. Give me any character in a hoodie, I'll probably like them. I also like the indigo troll. In my head they're a casanova con man, but as always, buyers may change literally anything about the adopts.

As always, if you're interested in any of these guys, you can get them from my ko-fi through the links below!

1/2/3/4/5/6

7/8/9/10/11/12

[tommydarlings]

Dark Paradise | s.v

pairing: dark!ex!mean!dom!rbr!seb x sub!reader

warning: dark, stalking, psychotic behaviour, obsessive behaviour, smut, cnc, dacryphilia, chocking, spitting, bondage, inappropriate usage of tape, orgasm denial

w/c: 1.3k

summary: After successfully getting away from your crazy ex boyfriend, you thought that you never have to see him again…you were definitely wrong — and you’ve noticed that as soon as you woke up with tape tightly bound around your wrists and a familiar man standing next to your bed in the middle of the night. | Read 'Part 1' here !

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song suggestion: Dark Paradise by Lana del Rey

You desperately tried to get away from him as you wildly moved your body from side to side and, luckily, after a few seconds of non stop trashing around in his grasp, his arms loosened themselves around your waist.

With a heavy sigh, you took all the strength that you’ve got and hit him with your elbow in his ribs, making him groan before he dropped your figure. And you didn’t waste a single second, immediately running towards the door, throwing it open and taking off, just running away from him, that was your only thought at that time.

- - -

“One room for one night please,” you mumbled nervously to the lady at the reception. She gave you a slightly concerned look but still didn’t hesitate to give you the key.

After running for quite a long time already, you coincidentally came face to face with a tiny hotel and with one last glance behind you, you sighed before you entered the small building.

And now finally laying in bed with your limbs stretched out and deep breaths escaping your mouth, you were only able to silently pray that your ex boyfriend, Sebastian, didn’t follow you.

- - -

You groaned as you weren’t able to reach the tiny button to turn the lamp next to you off but after almost falling out of bed, you reached it and turn the little lamp that was placed on the old nightstand off. With a sigh, you put the soft blanket over your body and closed your eyes, desperately trying to fall asleep now.

But you were only able to turn, turn and turn. There was no way that you were able to fall asleep tonight even though you knew that you were safe here.

The last position that you found yourself in after turning like a mad women, was with your back towards the door and with your face facing the small window in the room.

And after multiple minutes of just staring at the small, white, window, you were able to fall asleep.

But that sleep didn’t last long.

After most probably not even four hours, you woke up again, this time on your stomach. But this time there was also the little lamp on your nightstand turned on again, making the room a bit brighter.

You groaned again and furrowed your brows since you could have sworn to yourself that you turned the lamp off but didn’t think about it to much.

But what you definitely though about was the fact that you couldn’t move your hands. It almost felt like they were… tied together.

And when you raised your head to look at your wrists, you were right, they were restrained with a thick layer of black tape, making it completely unable for you to move them.

You gulped before you felt the tears entering your wide eyes, quickly raising your head and immediately catching the gaze of the person you so desperately tried to escape.

Your ex boyfriend, Sebastian.

While tears were slowly running down your temple, you sniffled as you saw him looking down at you with his arms crossed, smirk over his soft lips.

“S-Sebastian, let me g-go…please-”

But he slowly shook his head as he bit his bottom lip, “No, no, no and no! You’ve ran away from me! Twice already! I won’t make that mistake again to let you run out of my life, liebling,” darling. he stated.

You gasped as you felt his hand stroking your wet cheek, wiping some of the tears away while he put his other hand on your now trashing wrists that were bound together.

He briefly chuckled, “Don’t do that, sweetheart,” Sebastian said, ”Shhh, it’s okay…I am here.”

You had to bite back a laugh, “Yeah, t-that’s the p-problem.”

Sebastian's smirk faded, his eyes quickly darkened again as he heard your words. And in a matter of only a few seconds, he grabbed your by your waist, turned you around so you were laying on your stomach and put his weight on you, both hands now playing with your underwear.

“No!” You cried out, “Get o-off of me, you s-sick bastard!” But it was no use, he was visibly stronger and had way more power over you at the moment. Sebastian only smiled before he pushed your underwear to the side, exposing your pussy.

“Stop it, liebling,” Sebastian mumbled, “It’s not like I haven’t seen all of this before,” he told you in a deep tone before you felt his fingertips gliding through your folds, slowly entering your wet cunt.

He hummed, “For the fact that you want me to get off of you, you are pretty wet, darling.”

You gasped as soon as he thrusted his long fingers in and out of you, whining every time he almost completely removed from your pussy, and then shoved them knuckles deep back in, making you see stars.

Sebastian quickly leaned down and spit on your pussy, letting it run down until it reached your entrance, briefly removing his fingers and stuffing his warm spit into you cunt while you moaned into the sheets.

He tilted his head to the side while he put his other hand on the back of your neck, forcing the left side of your face even further into the white bedsheets. You looked up at him with furrowed brows, “Don’t act like you don’t like it, because I can feel that you do.”

You whined as he went faster, making you squeeze your eyes shut, letting a few tears run down your red cheeks.

“Almost forgot how you feel around my fingers, baby,” Sebastian groaned, “Feels almost better than before my love, still so tight and wet.”

His big hand left the back of your neck and as soon as you felt his big palm gliding away from your delicate skin, you started trash your bound wrists around again, repeatedly screaming and whining into the sheets while his finger movements didn’t stop.

Sebastian angrily bit his lip before he slammed his palm down onto your wrists, harshly pressing them against the swell of your bum and making it unable for you to move them again.

“Stop. Resisting. Me,” the German above you told you in a deep and harsh tone. You squeezed your eyes shut again as you felt your orgasm approaching you, sighing as the tears didn’t stop. “N-No,” you answered before you whined.

Sebastian tilted his head to the side, “No?”

You tried to bite back a moan as you started to clench around his fingers, “No,” you shook your head.

The blonde man above your shaking figure only chuckled, “Oh liebling, you were never good at shutting up, now were you?” He stated before he swiftly removed his fingers from your begging pussy, making you gasp and cry out into the tear stained bedsheets.

“N-No, please! Please, s-sebastian!” You whined in a high pitched tone as you heard him sucking his two fingers off, groaning and moaning at your taste.

He put both of his hands onto your bound wrists now, holding them down, knowing you would probably start to trash them around again. “Please what, my love?”

You sniffled while a few tears ran down your temple and cheeks, “Please l-let me cum, b-baby,” you whined.

He laughed, “baby?” Furrowing his brows in a funny way, “Since when am I your baby again, sweetheart? Be honest, you're only calling me baby now because you're a little slut that just wants to cum, am I right?”

After a few seconds, you slowly shook your head.

Sebastian didn’t say anything for a while, he only removed one his hands from your wrists and put it in your hair, forcing your head upwards into the air.

“Don’t lie to me,” he harshly whispered from behind, making you gasp.

You gulped before you nodded.

“Yeah? Am I right?” You just continued to nod, not saying a single word.

“Perfect.” Your ex muttered before he leaned forward and kissed your shoulder.

[fuckallthegood0nesweretaken]

New World CH. Eight

Title: Potential Home

Words: 1891

Warnings: Strong sexual content (P in V sex, spicy kissing, groping), strong language

A/N: If you’d like to request something, send me an ask. I’d love to write for you!

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Previous Chapter - Next Chapter

New World Masterlist

Daryl Dixon Masterlist

The Walking Dead Masterlist

Masterlist

~~~~~~~

The winter months had passed without any major incidents. No one died, but food was scarce and you were never able to stay in one place for more than a week. It got better as the months got warmer, but it was still rough.

 A few weeks had gone by before you and your brothers told the Greene family about the supernatural. It took a lot to convince them, but after a run in with a group of vampires, they believed you.

 You and Daryl had also gotten closer, and surprisingly, your slightly overprotective brothers didn’t have a huge problem with it. The two of you were good for each other, and they saw that. Daryl made you happy and that was something not a lot of people got these days.

 You had been on the road for a few days since the last house you stayed in was overrun. Lori looked like she was about to pop and you needed to find a place to stay. Going house to house or staying out the open wasn’t becoming an option anymore. So when you came across a prison while hunting with Daryl and Rick, you thought that this could be it.

 ---

 “We found a place,” Rick said when you got back to the group. “It’s a prison.”

 “A prison?” Carl asked.

 “Yeah. The fences held up and it looks good,” you said. “I think we should go for it. We also got some meat.”

 “We’d have to clear it out, but this could be it.”

 Everyone agreed, and piled into the cars. You sat with your brothers and daughter, as usual, and off you went. When you got there, Rick cut the fence while you helped fend off walkers as Sam held Adeline close. Once everyone was inside the fence, Daryl and Glenn tied it back together fast. Running along the path, you got to an open space.

 “It’s perfect,” Rick breathed as he looked at the prison yard. “If we can shut that gate and prevent more from getting into the yard, we can pick off these walkers.”

 “So how do we shut the gate?” Hershel asked.

 “I’ll do it. You guys cover me,” Glenn volunteered.

 “No,” Maggie said. “It’s a suicide run.”

 “I’m the fastest.”

 “No. You, Maggie, Beth, and T-Dog draw as many as you can over there. Pull them away from the middle of the yard and pop ‘em through the fence. Daryl, you and [y/n] get up in that tower there. Carol, you’ve gotten to be a pretty good shot, join them. Carl, Dean, and Hershel, you go in that tower. Sam, stay close to Lori and the kids down here. I’ll run for the gate.”

 “Be careful, Rick,” you said before running with Daryl and Carol to the tower. Adeline was still wrapped in Sam’s arms, her wide eyes watching as Lori opened the gate for Rick.

 Cautiously, you quickly made your way to the top. There were no walkers for you to take out and you were grateful for the small victory. Holding your rifle steady, you aimed the sights at the walkers in the yard. When the group on the ground attracted a fair bit, you opened fire. Carefully, you made every bullet count. You didn’t have a lot of ammo to spare and you knew it.

 The sound of gunfire filled the air, the sounds of bodies falling coming soon after. When Rick got to the gate, he kicked a walker out of the way and pulled it shut. You shot one that was sneaking up on him and when he managed to get into the third tower, you let out a sigh of relief.

 “He did it!” Carol said.

 “Light it up!” Daryl yelled to everyone.

 With a stupid grin on your face, you continued shooting down walkers until there were none left in the yard. Once they were all dead for good, you turned to Daryl and kissed him. His free arm went around your waist and you broke apart with a laugh. Carol was looking at the two of you fondly and walked down the tower stairs with a soft smile on her face.

 Once she was gone, Daryl pulled you closer to him. His lips met yours hungrily and you let out a small moan as his hand gripped your ass. You set your gun down and he set his crossbow down, pulling you closer to him now with both hands. There was no space between you and you could feel your body heating up. His touch was like fire and you couldn’t get enough of it. When he detached himself from your lips and started making his way down your neck, you keened.

 “D-Daryl,” you whimpered.

 “Yes?” He said, muffled slightly.

 “We’re out in the open. They could still see us.” Your voice cracked.

 “Don’t care. Need ta feel ya.”

 With that, he dug his fingers into your ass and you jolted, your belly hitting his hard cock. You moaned and Daryl hissed in pleasure. He hiked up your thigh, making it wrap around his waist. You rocked your hips up into him and he responded the same.

 “We-we should get back to the group. They’ll worry.” You didn’t want to stop, but you knew you had to.

 “Don’t wanna stop.”

 “How ‘bout this? We go back to the group and after they go to sleep, I’ll let you fuck me in this tower,” you purred into his ear.

 “Fuck,” Daryl groaned. His hips jerked forward at the thought of being able to properly fuck you for the first time in a while.

 “Sound good?”

 “Sounds perfect.” He kissed you hard once more and pulled himself away. You giggled as he adjusted his straining cock and he lifted an eyebrow at you.

 “What’s funny?”

 “Nothin’!” You said sweetly. Bending over to grab your gun, Daryl grabbed your clothed pussy and you moaned. Movements stuttering, you gave him a half-assed glare and he smirked cheekily.

 “What was that for?” You asked.

 “Nothin’,” he said.

 “Oh hush.” Daryl laughed and smacked your behind as you walked past him.

 “S’go, ‘fore your brothers throw a fit.”

 ---

 After you had taken the prison yard, you made a fire while some others went to get the cars. Everyone was in good spirits and you felt lighter than you had in months. Sitting on a blanket, your family beside you lighthearted, made it hard to wipe the smile off of your face. Daryl was watching the gate and Carol had brought him some food.

 Beth had started singing and you saw Daryl coming back, Carol in tow. Rick had come over too. Sitting down behind you, Daryl pulled you and Adeline into his lap and you snuggled close. Closing your eyes and listening to Beth’s and Maggie’s voices, you could feel yourself drifting off to sleep. When Daryl saw that, he gently jostled you awake.

 “Don’t forget your promise ta me,” he growled lowly in your ear. You shivered at the hunger in his voice and he pulled you closer.

 “Better all turn in,” Rick said. “I’ll take watch over there. Got a big day tomorrow.”

 “What do you mean?” You asked.

 “Look, I know we’re all exhausted. This was an amazing win. But we gotta push just a little more. Most of the walkers are dressed as guards and prisoners. There’s no civilians.”

 “That would mean that the whole prison is secure,” you said.

 “Exactly. It could also mean that the supplies may be intact. Food, medicine.”

 “Weapons?” Daryl asked.

 “That would be outside the prison itself, but no too far away. Wardens office would have the details. This place could be a gold mine.”

 “We’re dangerously low on ammo,” Hershel said. “We’d run out before we made a dent.”

 “That’s why we have to go in there. Hand to hand,” Rick said. “After all we’ve been through, I know we can handle it. These assholes don’t stand a chance.”

 You let out a small laugh and so did Carl. When Rick walked to the tower, Lori followed him. Daryl patted your thigh and you got up, setting a sleeping Adeline next to Sophia on your blanket.

 “We’re gonna go to the other tower to keep watch. You can only see so much from the one,” you said. Turning to Carol, you said, “Watch Adeline for me?”

 “Alright. Have fun,” Carol said, wiggling her eyebrows.

 “Not too much fun,” Dean muttered. Sam hit him in the side and Dean winced before waving his hand.

 Daryl scoffed and pulled you by the hand. The walk to the tower was quiet, and you swung your intertwined hands. Once you had climbed the stairs and stepped into the small room, Daryl pushed you up against the door. His hands practically tore your shirt off of your body, your bra going next.

 “Haven’t seen these perfect tits in too long,” Daryl groaned. He palmed at your chest and you keened, pushing yourself into him. You pulled him in for a kiss, running your hands up his shirt. He tugged his shirt over his head and threw it in the corner of the room before lifting you up onto the desk. Trailing his lips down your neck and onto your stomach, you whined at the soft touches.

 He got to the waistband of your jeans and used his teeth to pry open the button and pull down the zipper. Once you were completely naked, he hungrily looked you over. His gaze was hot and even though he had seen you naked before, it still made you a little embarrassed.

 “Can’t believe you’re all mine,” he growled.

 Hurriedly taking his own pants off, he closed the gap between the two of you once again. He rutted into you gently, hands caressing every inch of your body. Your head thrown back, Daryl drank in the sight of you.

 “What do ya want, babygirl?” He asked you.

 “Want you,” you moaned.

 “Me? What part of me?”

 “Want your cock!”

 Daryl smirked at those words and pressed himself closer to you. You cried out at his touch and he took pity on you, lining up his cock and pushing it into you. Letting out a high pitched moan, you scrambled to hold onto Daryl as he set a brutal pace. You knew that neither one of you was going to last long, it had been a couple months since you had last been with each other.

 Grabbing his face, you pulled him into a searing kiss. Tongues intertwining, chests heaving, you hit your peak once Daryl started rubbing your clit. You clenched harshly around him and he came inside you a few seconds later. Trying to catch your breath, you moaned when Daryl started mouthing at your neck, hands running up your side. He started moving his hips again and your breath hitched.

 “Got another one in there for me?”

 ---

 The next day started early. Dean, Daryl, Rick, Glenn, Maggie, and T-Dog were going to clear out some of the prison. After they got armed and ready, you kissed your brother’s cheek.

 “Stay safe,” you said.

 “I will.” Dean gave Adeline a kiss and nodded to Sam before walking away with the others. You watched them start to take out the walkers and bit your lip in worry.

[yoosungisbabie]

the pedal’s down - mystictober day 19

707 x mc

rating: G

prompt: {seven x mc} / mask

warnings: none♡

word count: 1,924

ao3 link

[my Ko-fi♡]

Seven finally takes her out on a drive.

°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。

“Are you ready?” She gasped slightly, her face immediately lifting to look at him in excitement. He looked a little tired from working so hard, his golden eyes dull and his hair disheveled. She hoped that getting out of the house would help him cheer up.

“You’re done?” she asked. She nearly fell off the couch as she moved to stand, watching him chuckle at her.

“Yeah, I just finished. Let’s go!” he said enthusiastically. He held out his hand for her to take it, but then he eyed it, pulling away to wave her forward with it instead.

She decided not to ask, her thoughts elsewhere while she followed close behind him as they moved through the house towards his garage. His hoodie had come off since she’d seen him last, only a black tank top remaining. She quickly decided that it would be better for her heart if she focused on her surroundings instead of the fact that his biceps were on display.

He pushed open the garage door, bowing dramatically for her to enter first. She stepped forward with an eager grin, the only light coming from the room behind her. He shut the door as he joined her, throwing her into pitch darkness.

“Oh yeah, these are nice cars,” she teased, nodding her head even though he couldn’t see. He let out a snicker before she heard the flick of a switch.

Suddenly, the whole room was illuminated, her eyes narrowing before they adjusted. When they did, she was met with the sight of four stunning sports cars, all of which she’d heard and seen so much about. The bright fluorescent lights reflected off the shiny paint jobs and made them all the more beautiful.

“Whoa,” she breathed, taking a few curious steps forward to get closer.

“Allow me to formally introduce you to my babies,” Seven spoke, stepping to her side with a hop. She glanced at him, seeing that the usual sparkle in his eyes was shining, and that was a big part of the reason she’d asked for a ride in one of his cars.

Her eyes kept gravitating towards one car in particular. It was the one she’d heard him talk the most about, and it really was a sight to behold. She’d looked up what the model was a few times just out of curiosity, but maybe part of her wanted to be able to impress him if she needed to.

“Which one will we be taking for a spin tonight, m’lady?” he asked, gesturing for her to choose. Her mouth fell open, her heart palpitating in her chest.

“You’re letting me choose?” she asked in disbelief, thinking that he would have been the one to make all the decisions. But he grinned, nodding enthusiastically.

“It was your idea, so you can choose!” he smiled, putting his hands in his pockets as he watched her wiggle a little from excitement.

“Can we take the Herrari California?” she asked after a moment of thought. His eyes widened, and he tilted his head at her.

“Someone’s done their research,” he said, his smile growing. He began walking towards the car, but then he stopped and leaned close to her.

“Did you know that she’s my favorite?” he whispered like it was a secret. She laughed, covering her mouth and watching him.

“Maybe,” she whispered back, unable to help the butterflies that stirred in her stomach when he laughed in response.

They both walked over to the car quickly, her eyes widening as she grew closer. She didn’t know much about the car other than its name and that it was expensive, but it was a very nice shade of red.

“Ahh it’s so pretty!” she sighed, not daring to touch it. He put his hands behind his head, sighing in that cocky way that he did and smirking at her.

“Thanks, I picked the color myself,” he bragged, making her snicker a little. He eyed her, raising his eyebrows like he wasn’t joking.

“Aren’t they all red?” she laughed, seeing him lean on his knees and gape at her.

“And here I was thinking you’d become an expert just for me!” he exclaimed, covering his face and pretending to sob. She rolled her eyes, smiling and putting her hands on her hips.

“I think you’d get jealous if I knew everything about your baby,” she reasoned, seeing him peek through his fingers at her. After a few seconds, he ran both hands through his hair, sighing like nothing had happened.

“You’re right!” he grinned, turning to walk over to the wall behind the car. He opened the box there, pulling out what she guessed were the car keys.

“Just so you know,” he said, looking over his shoulder as he closed the box. “Not every Herrari is red. This is actually shade number FF2800,” he said, making her giggle under her breath. Of course he’d memorized the exact color number.

“Well, shade number FF2800 looks absolutely gorgeous. Can we get in now?” she laughed, seeing his eyes crinkle with his grin.

“Please,” he said, unlocking both doors with the click of a button. She pulled the handle, the smell of leather immediately filling her senses. She slipped into the car, admiring the all-black, spotless interior before glancing over at him.

“Think the inside is pretty too?” he asked, placing one hand on the wheel. She nodded, smirking a little.

“Just like you,” she teased, reaching over to poke his cheek before he snickered.

“My hair isn’t quite the right shade for me to pass as a Herrari though,” he replied, adjusting his seat a little and checking his mirrors. She could have sworn she saw a slight blush move into his cheeks, but he turned to look at her again, pulling her attention away.

“Did your research show you this little detail?” he asked, his eyes shining excitedly. Her jaw dropped as he pushed a button, the top of the car lifting from above them. Maybe she’d seen the word convertible when she’d searched the internet, but it was a pleasant surprise either way. She let out a giddy breath as she watched the car work its magic, knowing that his eyes were watching her carefully.

“We should go before we miss the sunset,” he said, placing the keys in the ignition. He winked at her once before he started the car up, making her heart race as the engine purred to life.

He carefully maneuvered the car out of the garage, navigating the dirt road that led away from his secluded house at a snail’s pace.

“Seven…” she spoke, glancing around.

“Hmm?” he hummed, two hands tight on the wheel. She stared at him incredulously.

“Are you...gonna go?” she asked, meeting his wide-blown eyes when he looked at her.

“If I scratch even an atom of paint off this car, I will personally send myself to hell,” he spoke intensely, an uncontrollable giggle bubbling up from her throat. He looked glanced between her and the road a few times before letting his own laugh out.

“I’m serious!” he told her, making her shake her head.

“There’s nothing even around here!” she disputed, watching him lean back a little.

“That’s how I like it,” he said, making her roll her eyes. She took a second to put on her seatbelt, watching him out of the corner of her eye. She’d heard someone mention before that his muscles were very visible when he drove, but she had no idea that it would be so distracting.

Seven caught her looking, a smirk slipping onto his lips before she spoke up out of embarrassment.

“Can’t this car do like zero to sixty in 3 seconds or something?” she said quickly, glancing away to hide the heat growing in her face. Luckily, since the top was down, there was a cool breeze blowing lightly across her cheeks to cool her off.

“Maybe,” he said, dragging the last vowel out. She shot a look towards him, propping her elbow up on the car door.

“For all the bragging you do, I’m not seeing a whole lot of magic happening,” she teased, hearing him blow a raspberry at her. She turned back to him, seeing him glaring at the road ahead.

“Patience, patience,” he sang out. She watched him, thinking for a second that she was annoying him after a long day of work. But when he met her gaze, the warm smile and glow in his eyes proved her wrong.

After a few more minutes of careful driving, they made it out onto a paved road, and her heart pumped excitedly. She sat up a little, her smile uncontrollable. If the car already sounded amazing when they were going so slow, she couldn’t wait for what it sounded like at higher speeds.

“There’s a long stretch of freeway nearby if you can wait that long,” he chuckled, his posture relaxing slightly. “You’re so cute,” he nearly whispered, but she caught it. Her already-pounding heart leapt into her throat, her eyes glued to him as the wind tousled his hair.

“What?” she asked, hoping she hadn’t misheard him. He paled, keeping his eyes on the road.

“N-nothing,” he said, making the knot in her stomach tighten. It was adorably typical that he denied little comments he made under his breath like that. She wondered if he actually meant them.

She leaned back in her seat, biting her lip to suppress her growing smile.

Soon enough, they pulled onto the ramp that led to the freeway, her eyes moving to him excitedly.

“Got your seatbelt on?” he asked, absentmindedly testing his own seatbelt.

“Of course,” she chuckled, glancing around to see that there were almost no cars on the road with them. “Why--” She couldn’t finish her question, the wind being knocked from her as he slammed on the accelerator. The car was pushed forward with a speed she’d never felt before, her stomach flipping. A loud squeal rang out as the tires spun against the pavement, and then the loud roar of the engine followed. The once gentle breeze became a fierce, cold wind that brought tears to her eyes and pinched at her cheeks.

She couldn’t help the elated scream that came from her throat, hearing his delighted laughter when her voice gave out. Her eyes bugged when she moved them to look at their current speed, her laughter getting lost among his and the wind as the road blurred in front of her.

Seven put on the brakes after another few moments, getting them down to a comfortable (and legal) speed. She was still laughing when pulled over, her breaths shallow and shaky.

“How was that?” he asked. She was able to hear the grin in his voice before she looked over at him. When she turned to see, the setting sunlight hit him in just the right way, making her stomach flip all over again. He was smiling so warmly, looking so carefree and happy, and that was all she could ever want for him.

Leaning over, she cupped his face with one hand, pressing a breathless kiss to his cheek. When she pulled back, he was bright red, his eyes locked on her and as wide as ever. She could only smile at him, her own cheeks flushing pink. But she didn’t care.

She flopped back in her seat, breathing out and feeling lightheaded. But she turned her smile to him once more, meeting his gaze boldly.

“Again?”

~~~~~

asdfghjkl i found this idea in my wips and had completely forgotten about it. it made me laugh so much rereading my idea, and i really enjoyed writing about this! thank you so much for reading!

[reifromrfa]

FluffWeek: Day 2 | Nightmare

I didn’t mean to write for day 2 but inspiration hit and BAM, this fic was born! I hope you guys like this short fluffy story about one of the most complex yet beloved characters in the MM fandom! 

»»————-　♡　————-««

Endless Sky | Saeran x MC

He lets out a loud cry and kicks the blankets, startling you awake. Immediately, you're by his side, stroking his face and shaking his shoulders.

"Saeran...Saeran, love, it's not real. You're dreaming."

His face is contorted in pain and there's a sheen of sweat on his forehead, his neck. You lean forward and brush your lips against his cheeks, kissing him as you mutter, "My love, come back to me. I'm here, I'm right here. Listen to my voice and open your eyes...those eyes I love so much. Please wake up, Saeran."

As though bidden, his eyes fly open with a gasp. Before you could fully lean back and look at him, you feel his hands grabbing your arms, gripping you tightly. You let out a gasp of your own as he pushes you down on the mattress, fingers sinking into your skin. But you don't flinch, not wanting to worry him. Instead, you look into his eyes as calmly as you can, even though your heart is hurting --hurting, because the one you love is in pain.

Saeran's eyes are wide, a wild look in them. There's fear and panic and confusion in those mint orbs, a chaotic swirl of emotions. He's panting, searching your face frantically, as though he's trying to remember who you are and where he is. Despite his hold, you move your hand and let your fingers stroke his arm soothingly. Your lips part and Saeran's eyes lock onto them.

"Love, you're safe now. You're safe here...with me."

Slowly, Saeran's breathing evens out. His shoulders relax and his eyes focus on yours, his gaze softening.

"MC."

His hold on you loosens and his hands move to your face, cupping your cheeks. There's a broken look on his face as he leans down and takes your lips in his, a sadness to his kiss that you wish desperately to take from him...

Saeran sighs as he feels your arms around him, deepening the kiss. In his dreams, you were both back there...in that place. And the Sav--that woman...she had you. He thought he knew pain before, but at the mere thought of seeing you in danger, being put in a position where he can't do anything to help you...

But we are not weak.

No...no, we're not. She's here, she's with me.

She's our princess...we won't let anything happen to her.

Saeran hears you moan softly, your fingers clutching his shirt as he continues kissing you. Yes, you're here....his love, his MC. He pulls away from the kiss and presses his forehead against yours, taking deep breaths. He can feel your breath tickling his cheek as you pants softly, your cheeks tinted pink, red lips slightly parted. He gently strokes your cheek with the back of his fingers and Saeran lets out a shuddering breath.

"You're here."

"Yes. Yes, Saeran. I'm here, I'll always be here." You places your hands on his cheeks and give him a small smile. "You came back to me."

Saeran nods, tears filling his eyes.

"I'll always come back to you. You are my home now."

But his words are lodged in his throat. Your smile widens and you wipe away the tears that spill from his eyes. Saeran pulls you to him and holds you close, burying his face in your hair. Hands stroking his back, you envelop him in your arms and kiss the side of his head.

You stay like that for a while, immobile, nestled in the warmth of the other. But as Saeran's tears stop and his body relaxes, you smile at him and sit up.

"Where are you going?" Saeran's hand tightens around yours.

"Follow me, Saeran." You reach for your sweater and pull it around you, then hand him his sweater. Giving you a curious look, Saeran slips his arms into the sweater and follows you wordlessly. He doesn't let go of your hand but you have no complaints; you love the feel of his warm, slender fingers intertwined with yours.

Together, the two of you walk to the front door of the cabin. You pass Saeyoung, asleep on the couch with the glow of his laptop screen illuminating his features. Vanderwood is sitting on the couch, arms crossed, head lolling to the side. You had all decided to come here for the weekend to get some fresh air, but of course those two had stayed up late --Saeyoung, working on his latest toy design and Vanderwood, enjoying a weekend off work as Jumin's bodyguard. You press your finger to your lips and glance at Saeran and see the side of his lips twitch as his gaze lands on his older twin. Silently, you open the front door and step outside.

The cool air washes away any trace of sleep you have and you shudder. Saeran tenses when he feels the cold breeze but you tug his hand forward. He closes the door behind him and silently grabs your shoulders and faces you to him. His fingers make quick work of buttoning your sweater and you feel your heart pounding hard against your chest.

"Saeran, I'm okay," you whisper to him.

"You can't catch a cold." He mutters, before taking your hand again and pulling you forward.

From the sound of your shoes against the wooden floorboards of the porch to the soft footfalls against the grassy field in front of the cabin, you close your eyes and fill your lungs with air. You tilt your head up and when you open your eyes, the starry night sky greets you.

Saeran can't take his eyes off you. Even with tousled hair, you look beautiful. Now, bathed in the moonlight...you truly look like an angel, sent down from heaven to find him. Save him.

"You once told me that you yearned to see the sky when you were younger...Saeyoung took you to see them before, right? Well..." Your cheeks grow warm again. "I want to be that for you too, Saeran."

You squeeze his hand gently.

"I want to remind you that you're free. The sky will always be here for you now, love...just like I will."

Saeran looks up at the sky, at the twinkling stars. She's right...of course she is. His nightmares will never become a reality...because he's free now. Mint Eye is no more. He doesn't need to be Unknown or Ray or a Believer anymore...he can simply be Saeran. He no longer hates his brother. He doesn't need anyone's permission to go outside...to see the stars.

Saeran breathes in and allows himself to be lost in the moment, to be amazed at how vast the world truly is. When he was young, his world was so small, consisting of the 4 corners of their room. It was Saeyoung who broke those walls and gave him a taste of freedom --introduced him to the taste of delicious ice cream. When he was with Rika, his world grew a little...yet, he was still confined to Magenta's walls, trapped in the horrors that the elixir drowned him in.

Yes...he's been a prisoner for so long.

But now...

Now he's able to stand there and appreciate the stars scattered across the night sky.

Saeran squeezes your hand too, eyes still fixed on the heavens.

"Look, my love," he says in a soft voice. "Look how dark the sky is. It's so big, it feels scary."

Saeran trails off and you turn to look at him, not saying a word. After a while, Saeran speaks once more.

"I...I've never been in a world that wide...a world so big I'd get lost in it. Before this, I was all alone in the darkness. Or I thought I was. I...It was scary in that darkness.  That is, until you came. When you came to me, it was as though a star appeared before me, an angel. You brought light with you, my love, a light that I didn't--I don't want to turn away from, ever.

You freed me, MC. You freed me from that darkness and now, now that I'm looking at this dark sky, I can't help but think...this darkness is different. Because the darkness is surrounded by plenty of stars.

The dark isn't so scary when I have my star with me." He turns to you and a small smiles comes to his lips. "My nightmares are chased away by your radiance, my love. So please, stay by my side forever."

You feel your throat closing up at his words and you don't realize that you're nodding your head, a grin split across your face. "Saeran, of course. There's nowhere else I want to be but here by your side." Closing the small distance, you step to the one you love and throw your arms around his waist, placing your head on his chest. "I love you, I love everything about you. All of us...we each have a dark sky within us. But you're right --if we have our stars with us, then that darkness will become beautiful like the night sky. Because only when the light has gone can stars truly shine."

Saeran's smile broadens and he turns your face to him. "Never stop casting your glow over me, MC."

"Saeran...keep shining for me too, okay?" You touch his cheek and feel his arms wrapping around your waist. He lets out a light laugh.

"It's because of you that I am able to shine again...It's because of you...that now, my sky is endless." Saeran leans in close, lips merely inches away from yours.

"I love you."

-----

From the window, Saeyoung watches you both. He chuckles softly to himself before letting the curtain fall back over the window. He takes out his phone and swipes through the screens, finding what he was looking for. He finally cracked the code for the reset --he finally did it. With one push of a button, he can restart the game...or delete the reset button. Once and for all.

The choice is easy, isn't it?

He grins and presses his finger against the screen.

»»————-　♡　————-««

I’ve always loved Saeran but was nervous to write fics for him because maybe he’s a little relatable. No, I wasn’t drugged by a madwoman and I didn’t start texting a random girl and lure her into the apartment of said madwoman haha. But I think all of us are a little broken inside --maybe all of us have a little bit of Saeran within us. So I hope you guys find the one who’ll shine a light for you in times of darkness :) 

Check out the other prompts for fluffweek on @mmfluffweek​!

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[writerbyaccident]

Date Night: Part Two (Yandere ErasermicxReader)

Part One  Part Three

Hizashi was going to end up bruising Aizawa’s hand with how tightly he was holding it. Smiling sympathetically, Aizawa squeezed back in an attempt to reassure his boyfriend, as impossible as he knew that was. Aizawa usually considered himself the more stoic of the two of them, so considering the way that each of his nerves was trembling, he doubted that a simple hand squeeze would be able to set either of them at ease. No, neither of them would be able relax until this date of theirs tonight went off without a hitch.

           The two men huddled close together as they waited, their eyes glued to the back entrance of your apartment building. As the minutes ticked by, Aizawa’s eyes began to itch like nothing he had ever felt before, but he didn’t dare blink as he continued to glare at the door. Hizashi, for his part, was tapping his foot to an incessant beat that only increased in pitch and tempo as another moment went by without seeing your face.

           “Should we just force our way into the building?” Hizashi asked anxiously. “He went in there forever ago.”

           “No, it’s too risky.”

           “But what if he’s hurting her right now?” That question pierced Aizawa deeply, unbidden and unwanted images of you in pain finding their way into his mind. Biting the inside of his cheek, he contemplated rushing forward and making their way into your apartment, if only to get rid of the feeling of uselessness burrowed in his chest.

           “No,” Aizawa sighed reluctantly. “Taking this fight to an enclosed space will only make it more likely that she will get hurt.”

           “But she could be hurt right now,” Hizashi whined.

           “I know, babe. I don’t like having to wait any more than you do. But if we want the best possible odds of her being safe in our arms, we have to wait. Besides, if she is a little hurt, it’ll just make it all the easier for her to understand that she needs us.”

           “Ugh,” Hizashi groaned teasingly. “I hate it when you talk sense.” Aizawa’s words were true, Hizashi realized, even if they didn’t come with the instant relief that action did. But Hizashi was fairly used to Aizawa being the more level-headed of them, especially when it came to you. Hizashi, for instance, could hardly stand the thought of you in even the slightest bit of distress, Aizawa was there to remind him that sometimes such things were for the greater good. After all, a little pain now made it less likely that you would get hurt later by doing something foolish.

           And so, both of them at least slightly placated, the couple continued their anxious vigil.

           “So, where exactly are you taking me?” Aizawa’s and Hizashi’s ears perking up instantly at the sound of your voice, they simultaneously leaned against the bars of the shadowy fire escape so they could see you the moment you appeared.

           “I told you, babe,” came a familiar voice that made the two men scowl, “it’s not much of a surprise if I just give it away.”

           The drawn-out squeak of the back door echoing throughout the alleyway, Dabi led you out into the dim evening light as you pouted exaggeratedly. Despite seeing you with such undesirable company, neither Hizashi nor Aizawa could ignore the way that their hearts ached at the sight of you. Really, Aizawa thought to himself bitterly, it’s just all the more reason to get her away from him by any means we can.

            It seemed as though Hizashi had the same thought, for as soon as you and Dabi had only made it a few steps away from the door, the eager hero was leaping down to the alleyway’s floor. His heart warming at just how adorable his boyfriend was when he got so passionately protective, Aizawa soon followed his lead. As the two heroes cut you and your boyfriend off from each end of the alley, all you could do was stare in confusion, hoping desperately that this was just some sort of misunderstanding.

           “Stop right there,” Eraser Head growled at Dabi. “The most logical thing for you to do is come quietly. You’re outnumbered and outmatched.”

           “Am I now?” Dabi scoffed, though his true feelings were betrayed by the way he pushed you behind him. Not that Hizashi or Aizawa saw that. No, all they saw was some depraved villain putting his hands all over you.

           “You are. Now step away from the girl,” Present Mic nearly shouted. Looking up at your boyfriend for some sort of explanation, you saw his eyes filled with a determined hatred that you had never seen before.

           “Dabi, what’s going on?” you pleaded with him. You might not have paid all that much attention to the exploits of heroes and villains that surrounded your world, but even you knew who Present Mic was. The other hero you weren’t sure of, but you knew that neither of them would just confront an innocent civilian like this. So if that was true, what did that say about Dabi?

           “Just keep quiet and stay out of it, babe,” Dabi answered through gritted teeth. “Let me deal with this.”

Bristling at the way Dabi spoke to you, Hizashi couldn’t hold back his fury any longer, letting out a powerful scream that propelled Dabi back into the brick wall. Dabi fired back only a moment later though, his scorching blue flames reaching for the blonde hero. Before they could burn Present Mic though, the flames disappeared. Dabi having realized what had happened, he turned to Eraser Head with a scowl on his face, more than ready to just start throwing punches if he needed to. But before he could even reach the quirk-erasing hero, Hizashi continued to force him back with his overwhelming yells.

Meanwhile, you had your back pressed against the building wall, eyes wide with a fear that refused to let you look away. It felt as though someone had reached inside of you and ripped out your lungs, leaving you lightheaded and unsteady on your feet. Even in your state though, you still saw as Dabi reached into his pocket, taking out a phone and hurriedly pressing a few buttons.

“Well, it seems like you’re right,” Dabi yelled out to his attackers. “I’m not about to go full throttle with her here, so I guess I’m outmatched. Guess I’m out of options, huh?”

Backing away from the heroes, Dabi counted down in his head for the moment he would be able to make his move. Aizawa wouldn’t be able to keep from blinking for much longer, and if Dabi had timed things correctly, he should be able to make a narrow escape. So when a purple mist began to form right behind the flame villain, all three men had the same thought: Perfect timing.

Once the portal had grown big enough, Aizawa blinked, giving Dabi the chance he needed. A circle of sapphire flames burst from Dabi, and the only thing you could think to do was to cover your face. Before they could so much as scorch you though, Present Mic had somehow made his way in front of you, letting out a screech that kept them at bay until Dabi disappeared through the portal, his flames along with him.

Hands shaking, you lifted them off from your face and dared to look around you. You had fallen to the ground at some point, you realized dimly, but you didn’t think you had the strength currently to attempt to get back up. Luckily for you though, the two heroes crouched beside you, the sympathetic looks they gave you enough to make you cry. In spite of Aizawa’s previous warnings that they needed to remain professional at this stage, neither he nor Hizashi could follow such advice when they saw your eyes filling with tears.

“Hey, hey, little songbird, it’s alright,” Hizashi murmured, beginning to rub your back soothingly. “It’s over.”

“Yes, he’s gone now,” Aizawa added, taking your hand. “He can’t hurt you.”

“I—I don’t understand though. What just happened? Why were you treating Dabi like a villain? Why was he acting like one?” you whimpered. Hizashi and Aizawa exchanged a fond glance at that, the two of them touched by your innocence.

“You were dating that man, right? What did he tell you about his job?” Aizawa asked softly.

“N—not much, he just said that he worked a crappy contracting job with weird hours.”

“Songbird, have your ever heard of the group called the League of Villains?” Eyes widening at the name, you nodded, struck speechless for a moment. Even you were familiar with the infamous group.

“You—you don’t mean that—?”

“Yes,” Aizawa said bluntly, “he is a member.”

That seemed to be it for you, the last shock that you could handle, for your tears began to pour with alarming speed. Poor thing, Hizashi frowned, she’s so confused, so frightened. She doesn’t realize that she doesn’t need to be scared anymore. Continuing to rub your back in calming circles while his boyfriend rubbed the back of your hand with his thumb, the two of them waited with you while you cried yourself out. As your sobs began tapering off and your tears began to dry, your heroes huddled even closer to you.

“We know that this is a lot to take in, but we need to discuss what comes next,” Aizawa told you gently.

“Wh—what comes next?” you repeated confusedly.

“Yeah, I mean, the guy knows where you live, right?” Hizashi began to explain. “He might come back for you. We need to move you somewhere safe, where he can’t get to you.”

“Like where?”

“Maybe with a hero,” Aizawa mused, hoping that you were still too distressed to notice how eagerly he said it. “But we ought to talk things over. How about you let us take you out for something to eat. You shouldn’t be alone right now.”

“Yeah, how about some pizza?” Hizashi suggested.

Glancing up at the pair with exhausted eyes, you couldn’t deny that some food and some friendly company would do you good. Besides, you felt safe with them.

“Alright, that sounds good,” you said timidly, your tone coming dangerously close to making Hizashi just coo over how cute you were. The two heroes each took one of your hands, helping you get up off of the ground. And with you still in shock from everything that had happened, you didn’t even notice how both men refused to let go.

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[florencecastlewritings]

Kintsugi

A short original fiction by Florence Castle. If you enjoy this piece, please consider supporting me with a ko-fi donation.  The pottery wheel beside them lay still and clean, but the desk was coated in newspaper, stained with splatters of brown. Broken shards of a smashed charcoal grey dish were arranged carefully before them, and her lined hands, spotted with age, caressed the smooth fragments as she waited patiently. 

‘It’s called kintsugi,’ the young girl sat beside her said. The girl’s hair was cropped short, a wave of dark curls just skimming over one eye, her nose ring glinting in the light. It was amazing how young ladies dressed now. ‘I learnt about it at college,’ the girl continued as she mixed a glittering powder into a resin. ‘Rather than try and hide the damage, it just becomes part of the story of the object - embracing the flaws and illuminating them. I think it’s quite lovely - thought we’d try it this week.’ 

The older woman frowned slightly at the girl. She was extremely familiar, and now that she said that, she was certain she had been here last week. ‘I’m sorry, my dear, I don’t recall who-?’

‘Lucy,’ the young girl reminded her, with a pleasant smile. 

‘Yes. Of course. I did know that,’ she replied, waving a slightly flustered hand. She peered down at the little pot of resin. ‘And that’s gold, is it?’ 

‘That’s right. Biggest piece first?’ Lucy suggested. 

She nodded, and held up the largest fragment of the bowl; it had shattered down the middle, one side into several smaller shards, but this side was untouched. She held it steady as Lucy delicately applied the golden resin onto the edge with a small brush. 

‘I must say,’ she remarked, ‘I’m glad to see make do and mend coming back into fashion.’

Lucy grinned. ‘Yes. Nice to not just throw it away.’ 

She nodded sagely. ‘Everyone throws things away nowadays. I remember my mother helping me unpick one of my father’s old jumpers, so that we could reknit it into something trendier.’ 

Lucy raised her eyebrows, though she didn’t look up from the careful application of the gold. ‘What did you knit from it?’ 

‘A nice new cardigan for me; I told all my friends it was out of a catalogue though.’ 

She burst out laughing. ‘Did they believe you?’ 

‘Naturally.’ She picked up another fragment, and at Lucy’s nod, held it against the resin. Lucy leaned forward, continuing the repair. ‘We were very poor then,’ she told her vaguely. She could remember it quite clearly, the smell of the coal dust from the fire, the ancient mangle in the corner, the long queue outside the phone box on the street and the excitement when number fourteen got a telly. ‘Getting something new from a catalogue… that was… well, that was something worth lying about. A bit of glamour.’ 

‘I suppose they wanted to believe you,’ said Lucy. 

‘Yes, I suppose they did.’ She looked down at the bowl, steadily coming back into shape, the resin hardening into golden streams across the smooth landscape of the bowl. ‘Everything was so exciting then, but that’s childhood really, isn’t it?’ 

‘Aren’t things exciting now?’ Lucy prompted. 

‘Oh, well, I’ve seen it all, love,’ she replied. ‘And it moves too fast for me now to keep back. But I think back on those times a lot lately.’ 

‘Do you?’ asked Lucy quietly. ‘Like what?’ 

‘I think about my mother sometimes,’ she said. The fragment she had been holding was set enough to be released now, so she shifted her fingers to hold up another piece for Lucy, the thick blue lines of her veins sprawling across the back of her hands. ‘And my old school friends. And even the teachers sometimes. They just wander through my thoughts. I can remember my mother sitting by the fire, showing me how to unpick the threads from my father’s old jumper so we could reknit it into something new.’ 

Lucy blinked at her and nodded before looking back to the glistening gold roots that were growing steadily across the bowl. ‘That’s a lovely memory to have,’ Lucy said at last.

‘Yes,’ she said, remembering the mewl of the cat as they ignored its batting paw, the soft muttering of the radio, the glowing coals of the fire, the taste of the tea. Her mother’s hands, careful and precise, painstakingly picking away at the jumper. 

‘Like this,’ she had said. ‘That’s it.’ 

‘All my friends were so envious,’ she continued, remembering Judy Mayhew’s wide eyes and parted lips, and how Binky Conlon had run her hands over the outstretched sleeve of the cardigan, secretly born from a tattered old jumper. Binky’s eyes had narrowed as they noticed the buttons, familiar from the window of the drapers, betraying that it was not brand new from a catalogue, but she had pretended not to notice her friend’s suspicion, parading up and down the cracked pavement as though in a beauty pageant. It had been her pride and joy, that cardigan.  

‘One more piece,’ said Lucy, jolting her out of her memory. 

‘Oh… yes…’ She kept her fingers pressed against the cool ceramic, with just a little pressure to keep the pieces in place, her gaze tracing the seams of gold that shone between the fragments. ‘You were right,’ she said. ‘It’s very pretty.’ 

‘Isn’t it?’ said Lucy brightly, holding the last piece in place. ‘Even more precious than it was before.’

‘Yes… I really am sorry for breaking it.’ She had just remembered, suddenly, the bump against the table that had left the deep purple bruise on her hip, the high pitched crash of the bowl on the floor. She supposed it had been last week. 

‘Don’t be silly! I’m glad you did - I’ve wanted to try kintsugi for ages.’ 

Lucy took the bowl in careful, steady hands, and raised it onto a high shelf to set. 

She rose too, her slow bones aching, but then paused, gazing around the studio. The clay splattered sink, the surfaces covered with old newspapers, the shelves and shelves of ceramics, some half-finished, some beautifully glazed, pots and plates and vases and sculptures of unknown figures or animals. 

‘Did you make all these?’ she asked. 

The moment hung like the clay dust in the air, swirling in the light that fell through the window. Lucy’s voice was steady, reassuring, calm. ‘You did, Nana,’ she said. ‘Remember?’ 

She looked down at her hands, and for a brief moment they were slick with wet clay, gently pinching the sides of a growing vase, feeling it shift and move like a living, breathing thing, born from her hands. ‘Yes,’ she said, her eyebrows raised as she continued to stare down at her hands. They were quite dry again, marked only by the dapple of age spots and occasional flecks of resin that had escaped Lucy’s paintbrush. ‘Of course I do.’ 

[ijustwanttoexist]

An Almost First Date

This is a sequel to LIJAWITP, just a small little something I wanted to do because I haven’t written in a while and I thought it would be cute in a “I like to make my muses suffer” kind of way.

Also, I have a ko-fi. If you like my writing, please consider sending a bit of financial support my way.

Pairing(s): Sidney Crosby/Evgeni Malkin

Warning(s): Geno gets food poisoning in this, descriptions of throwing up past the break

Their first date is almost tragically bad. Geno imagines he’s in a movie as it happens, because in what other universe except one taking place on film would so many almost comically bad things in confluence.

It takes them nearly a month to make it happen. Sidney has playoffs, and spring is--for some reason--the time of year when people start getting dogs en mass so they’re both stupid busy.

They talk on the phone when they can. They text back and forth throughout the day, and have a few actual phone conversations, but they can never seem to get their schedules to match up for any meaningful time together in person.

The day of the date starts poorly. Geno’s phone charger had apparently died in the night and had taken his phone’s battery charge with it, so his alarm hadn’t gone off. He was two hours late two work, because he’d had to stop at an electronics store to get a replacement charger.

He’d apologized profusely to Angela, but she’d said it was no big deal. She’d looked a little wild-eyed from dealing with pretentious and asshole customers though, so Geno had given her a two hour lunch.

Geno doesn’t know how it happened, but he gets food poisoning at lunch. It’s a place he goes to quite often, and he’s never had any problems with them before, but about a half hour after he eats his lunch it’s making a disgusting return in the employee bathroom.

Angela tries to convince him to go home early, but he refuses to do that to her. She has her own schedule and her own life outside of work, and he refuses to let her take on extra hours when she’s already had a hectic day thanks to him. He sends her home on time, and makes it through most of the last few hours feeling gross and kinda sweaty and nauseous enough that moving too fast makes him gag.

He closes up a whole hour early after he gives all the animals their food and ensures their environments are clean and any bathroom breaks have been taken care of.

He takes some pepto and takes a nap when he gets home, because he still feels tragically awful. He feels better enough when his alarm goes off that he feels perfectly fine not informing Sidney of his early mishap and continuing on a date he’s pretty desperate to actually have happen.

His good slacks don’t fit anymore, is the problem. He hasn’t really gained weight, but he has lost some muscle mass since he doesn’t really work out a lot anymore, and the pants hang off him pathetically. Two of his remaining pairs of slacks smell slightly musty from being left to hang in his closet for who knows how long, and somehow his third pair has a large, dark stain around the crotch.

He goes with the good slacks, and hopes he doesn’t look like a child playing dress up in his dad’s clothes.

And when he goes for a button up, he realizes that he’s got two clean ones, having meant to do laundry for the past week and never quite getting to it. His choices are an off-white one with slightly grey pit stains or a pea-green one that he’s sure will make his slightly sick looking complexion even more washed out.

He settles for a baby blue polo and hopes Sidney doesn’t mind that he’s not dressed super formal.

He thanks his lucky stars that his dress shoes are still in good condition and still fit him.

Geno puts on his fanciest watch, and swears when he looks at it. Is it really that late? He checks his phone and swears again, because it is that late. Even with his usual speeding habit, there’s a good chance he’s going to be late.

He sends a text to Sidney letting him know, then jumps in his car. And gets pulled over for doing ten over. He tries to sweet talk his way out of a ticket, or at least get the man to write faster than his mother types, but by the time he gets to the restaurant he’s a full half hour late.

He has five glorious minutes of peace and quiet. The waitress kindly leads him to a semi-isolated table in the back. Sidney looks bored and a little put out in the moment before he lifts his eyes and sees Geno approaching, and then his face lights up and Geno can forgive the frankly awful beard when it surrounds a smile that beautiful and sweet.

He gives Geno an appreciative up and down look, and Geno preens.

Sidney stands as he approaches and pulls him into a hug, which Geno returns happily. He just wants to stand there in the arms of this wonderful man and never leave, but they’re in public and the waitress is still standing close by--presumably to get Geno’s drink order--so the hug is just shy of perfunctory and then they’re both sitting.

Geno gets water, and then they’re left alone. Geno finds what he wants, and when he looks up Sidney is watching him with a soft smile on his face. Geno reaches a hesitant hand across the table to him and Sidney takes it and laces their fingers. It makes Geno’s chest feel fit to burst with happiness.

And then someone passes the table with a tray of plates full of steaming food. The smell of food wafts over to their table and Geno can feel himself go green as he breaks out in a light sweat.

“Be right back,” Geno says, and nearly jumps to his feet. He walks as fast as he can without seeming frantic to the nearest bathroom, then locks himself in the first open stall to dry heave until he pukes bile.

At this point he can tell that he’s sweated through his shirt and his hair is soaked. He’s sure the only color in his face right now is grey.

He must be in the bathroom for longer than he thinks because he hears someone enter the bathroom and then a tentative, “Geno?”

Geno groans, partly because he feels like shit, and partly because he can’t believe he’s ruined their first and long awaited date because he ate some bad chicken. He kind of wants to curl into a ball and die.

“Yeah, Sid,” Geno asks from his stall, and he knows he sounds rough. He hears Sidney walk over to his stall, and reaches behind him to undo the latch on the door.

“Oh, buddy,” Sidney says, and then he feels a hand on his back, rubbing soothing circles, “Why didn’t you tell me you were feeling bad?”

“Wanted...” Geno gives a shallow burp-gag, and spits more bile into the toilet, “was so excited for date with you. Knew you were excited too. Didn’t want to disappoint you.”

Sidney is silent for a moment, still rubbing gently at his back.

“How about,” he said slowly, “you head home--“ Geno groaned in protest. “Hold on, G, let me finish.

“You head home, and get into something comfortable, and I’ll meet you there.”

“No fun when I’m sick,” Geno said sadly.

“Look, whether we go to some big fancy restaurant, or go to a movie, or we stay in and watch Netflix and cuddle on the couch, I just want to spend time with you.”

“Me too.”

Geno stands with help and washes his face with a damp paper towel. Sidney guides him to the front, and apologizes profusely to the waitstaff. And then Geno is deposited into his car with the promise that Sidney will be over soon.

Geno drives carefully home, afraid that if he doesn’t he’ll throw up in his car. He leaves a trail of clothes to his bedroom, then puts on his most comfortable sweats and a t-shirt. He grabs a heat patch from the box in his bathroom because all that heaving has left his back twinging, and then drags his duvet from his bed to his couch.

Sidney shows up twenty minutes later with takeout chicken noodle soup, in beautifully tailored jeans and a soft looking cardigan. Once they’ve both eaten, Sidney lays lengthwise on the couch and pulls Geno until he’s laying mostly on him, practically swaddled in his blanket. Sidney sets an alarm on his phone for the morning, presses play on some boring documentary sure to put Geno to sleep, and then runs his fingers through Geno’s hair.

“Sorry I ruin our date,” Geno says as he begins to drift off.

“This is still good,” Sidney assures him. Geno falls asleep with a small smile on his face.

[be-ready-when-i-say-go]

one more time by pale waves with calum?

Thanks for the suggestion!

Support me on ko-fi-Saving for graduate school expenses and moving. 

____________________________________________

One Last Chance

Calum pulls his hand back, playing at the ends of his sleeves instead of holding her hands. She sighs but keeps her attention on the movie screen. It was stupid. For her to even suggest the movie date. But the screen flickers on, casting blue and red over their faces. The movie was good if she was going to be honest.  But she wanted to scream. She wanted to run out of the theater and shout into the blue skies. What had she done to deserve this? Where had she gone wrong?

Calum watches her more than the movie. He watches the way she keeps her hand turned up on the armrest of the plush leather seats. He watches the way she stares at the corner, to make it seems like she’s not not paying attention but he knows that glazed over look in her eyes. He’s seen it when they’ve gone out and she only came with as to not upset Calum. But he’d rather she had stayed at home or rather they had done something else that watch her be pushed to the outskirts. 

She is always on the outskirts. 

It was kind of the root of their problems. She had encountered Calum by random chance when he came into the dental office for routine cleaning. She had only been out of school for a couple months and just joined the practice. She was the assistant and even though Calum was laying his mouth agape and probably at his most unattractive, it didn’t stop him from at least trying. It was subtle really. Just a joke about if she seduced everyone like this. 

She laughed at it too. A little too hard but didn’t flirt back until Calum was getting ready to leave. She told him that while it was not wise for the dentist to give out candy, though she’d make an expectation for him and let him choose a lolly from the bowl. There was only one in the clear bowl, a note attached with her name and number. 

She didn’t really party. She liked to stay at home. And though she never drank and no one thought less of her for it, she did inherently feel like she had to explain herself. She like routine and consistency. She dreamed of having a life where she had someone to come home to every day and lots of children. Calum had to travel. When the winds blew, he had to open his wings and take flight. He wanted kids but not right now. He wanted to settle down, but it was always an eventually, a later rather than sooner. 

Calum is on the outskirts of her dreams. That’s what it boiled down too. They weren’t more than two ships passing in the night but they had tried to throw their anchors done for each other. They had tried to dock, in the hopes that the seas would settle. In the hopes that the sex, and the laughs, and the good times would outweigh the same arguments, the same frustrations, the worries. 

Calum takes her hand again, scooting to the edge of his seat. “C’mon,” he whispers when she turns to look at him. 

She points up to the screen, attempting to thwart the impending conversation. “The movie.”

Calum shakes his head and tugs on her hand. She gives in and they duck out, hunched over as to not block anyone’s view, though the theater is pretty empty on a Wednesday afternnon. She wants to hate the way his shoulders still fill out the baggy button-ups. She wants to hate the way his skin looks good after the tan of being back home. 

They both try not to think about the way their hands have always slotted together so perfectly, the way she threads her fingers through his without a second thought. It is so goddamn easy in some rights. It’s easy to laugh with each other. It’s easy to cry to each other. But it’s not easy when they keep running circles about the future. She wants a marriage and kids, and soon. It’s all she dreamed of, it’s all she hoped for.

No one speaks as they walk out of the cold lobby, past the concession, even as they both inhale butter and salty popcorn into their nostrils. Calum pushes open the doors, holding it open for her and their hands are still intertwined. “I shouldn’t have asked for this,” she mutters. She wanted one last shot with Calum. One last date just to really see if they would work things out. It was stupid to ask someone ‘I feel like we should break out. But do you wanna go on one last date? Give it one last hurrah.’ She laughs, humorlessly looking up at the sun. “It was so stupid.”

Calum bites his lip for a moment, watching the way her skin absorbs the light. “No, it wasn’t stupid.”

“Of course you say that.”

“Maybe it’s unconventional. But it’s not stupid.” He doesn’t even stop himself from tracing the line of her jaw. His hand cups her cheek. 

She feels the first sting of tears. His hands were always so gentle on her skin, soft too. “Is it stupid to ask for one more one more chance?”

“No.” His voice is soft. The smallest twitch of his lips lets her see the smile that would cross his lips if his eyes weren’t so heavy. “Everyone wants one more one more chance to get things right. But you ought to save it. Save that final final straw for someone better.”

No, no, no, no. He’s beating himself up. She can see it. “Hey, no. Don’t say that. What did we say about all that negative self-talk?”

Calum has to chuckle, looking above her head, to the parking lot. The few cars spread out in the sea, a lot of red that he notices. “It has no place in my head.”

“It might knock on the door, but we don’t let it stay, alright?” She takes his other hand, fingers threaded through his again and presses her cheek into his chest. His heart is slightly erratic, thudding quickly against her ear. 

The first tear slips down Calum’s cheeks and he nods, though she can’t see it. “Yeah, we don’t let it stay.” 

It’s here where she would normally stretch up, kiss Calum on his lips and ask about lunch or if he had any errands to run. But she can’t do that. Even though there is the blaring of horns on the street, people chatting, the slight screech of children, but all she can hear is Calum’s heartbeat. Thump-thump. Thump-thump. 

“I’m sorry, Calum,” she whispers, not quite ready to push away. But knowing she can’t stay here longer. She’ll give in. She’ll use up her final chance on him if he would let her. 

“No, don’t be sorry. Never be sorry.” He pulls his fingers out of her hold and he gently hugs her shoulders. 

Thump-thump. Thump-thump. 

Calum takes a step back, arms falling awkwardly to his side. He wants to say something. But all that threatens to pass his lips is an ‘I love you.’ That’s too heavy that’s too much. “I’ll still be around, okay?”

“Okay,” she answers. She takes a half step back. It’s real. This is the final string between them. She wants to tell him she’ll be around too. She’ll still watch Duke if he ever needs it. But she says nothing and she watches Calum walk, head low on his neck. Her ears are hot, her eyes are welling up with tears. 

Thump-thump. Thump-thump. 

The sound of her own heart racing echoes in her ears and when she’s in her car, on the opposite end of the parking lot from Calum, she sobs up at the clothed covered roof, her chest aching and her throat dry. 

-H

[sparkly-angell]

Prompts, you says? 🤩 I saw you wrote for torchwood, how about some janto? Maybe post s3, Jack runs into the doctor again (maybe 11? Now that’s a fun dynamic!) and there is some very angry/angsty conversations... Jack talks about how much Ianto meant to him for the first time and Eleven fits Jack into his timeline. Sorry for the long message!! This plot bunny won’t go away

It took me longer than I want to admit to sit down and write this, but once I started, the story seemed to write itself! Thank you for the wait!

🌻  Prompt me | Ko-fi | Commission info | AO3 version 🌻

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

Wales Millennium Centre had a different aspect at night. Maybe because when its huge words shone in the dark sky, it looked like a lighthouse from the sea. A flatter, smaller and golder version.

But if it was a beacon of light, that would make Jack the lost boat.

He sat on the edge of the building, legs dangling out in the air as he watched the black clouds moving fastly over his head and towards the sea. The waves were tame tonight, they usually were this time of the year. A couple of people were walking the plaza, going home from late work shifts, probably. But Cardiff was at peace. 

If the same could be said for him, he sighed.

“Ah! There you are, Jackie boy!” a man said hurriedly behind him, startling Jack to his core. He turned and instantly frowned, as he watched a clumsy englishman climb the building with visible difficulty.

From the bowtie to the bad fitting suit jacket and the messy hair, it was pretty easy to tell who was approaching, but what really gave away was those sad, old eyes, once the man was face to face with him. Jack hadn’t personally met this version of the legend yet, but there’s always a first time. 

“Doctor! Good to see you!” he smiled, finding it harder to maintain the smile than normally. And it was, good to see him, that is. He’d missed the Doctor. Really. Just maybe not today.

“Come, I need your help. There’s a time and space fluctuation happening in the 27th century here at Cardiff and I thought, who best to deal with the rift than the person who’s been dealing over thousands of years? So, really, I thought it would take me half a decade to find you but here you are, at the first place I look for. What a lucky day.” The Doctor’ rambling stopped and he stood behind Jack, looking ready to jump the way he came from, but sticking an arm for him, a silent invitation for this and more adventures.

Jack’s heart fell heavily. In any other day he would have taken the Doctor’s hand and let him fly them away from one planet to another. In any other day he would be making lewd jokes and flirting nonstop with the time lord.

In any other day…

“Can it wait?” he asked, watching a street lamp flickering near the old torchwood entrance.

“Can it wait? Oh my God, you are not serious, are you?!” Jack didn’t need to turn around to see the Doctor throwing his arms up in exasperation. “Pshh, can it wait-- Of course it can’t wait! It’s happening! Right now!”

Jack chuckled. 

“What’s so funny?” he gave up and grumply sat next to Jack.

“It’s funny ‘cause the thing you are so worried about won’t happen for millions of years.” Jack shook his head as a smile grew on his face. “Sometimes I wonder you say something is urgent so you can continue running. You convince people of its urgency and you run, run, run, until you win. But there’s no resting, right? There’s no sitting in the edge of a building, looking down at the waves, admiring how peaceful things are, ‘cause then, ooh no, then you have to think, and thinking… thinking is never an option.”

“Well, someone’s grumpy today.” The Doctor mumbled, kicking his legs in the air childishly.

A heavy silence fell over them, and Jack watched his words being taken away through the wind. A few seagulls flew towards the harbor, beating gently their wings in the air.

“You know, I feel like you are talking more to yourself than to me, Jack.” the Doctor sobered up at a snap of a finger, voice all soft to dampen the truth, and Jack would have been shocked if he hadn’t already met his two previous versions. “Who was it, this time?”

“It’s not a this time situation.” he snapped, fingers curling around the copper edges of the building’s roof. Jack took a long breath. This was no way the Doctor’s fault. “It’s an anniversary.” 

“Oh? What are we celebrating?” he chirped.

“Ianto’s death.” there’s no reason to beat around the bush. Not today anyway.

When the Doctor looked at him with no recognition in his eyes, Jack slumped his shoulders.

“Remember 2010, when you found me drinking alone in a spaceshift bar?”

“I gave you Alonso’s number, yes.” Doctor’s face turned sad all of a sudden. Jack nodded.

“Ianto had just died.” Jack looked at the sky, catching a few glimpses of light from the stars behind the clouds. “I ran away. It’s the first time I’m back since his death. Five years without saying a proper goodbye.

“I don’t think you two ever met,” Jack snorted, now that he was talking, he wouldn’t stop. “he knew almost everything about you, though. I told him. Ianto was our coffee guy, assistant of shorts, well-” Jack smiled, more genuinely this time, remembering Ianto’s antics, “he did hide his cyber girlfriend in our basement once.” he ignored the Doctor’s choking sounds and continued. “But he was good. Too good. Very gentle, too.” The Doctor hummed.

“You loved him, didn’t you?”

Jack nodded, trying to work his way around the knot in his throat.

“More than that, Doctor.” his eyes stung. “I love everyone I meet, you know that. I love Rose, I love you, Martha… all my colleagues. I never thought there was more than that. But when I think of Ianto… I see us setting in together, creating a home, growing old. He’s… no, he was the one.”

The Doctor pondered something quietly for a moment before he got up and clapped his hands together, with an air of finality.

“Well, then I believe you should really be coming with me.”

“Doctor… just leave me. Come again tomorrow.” he avoided the Doctor’s hand when it tried to touch his shoulder.

“I might have a way of bringing Ianto back, Jack.”

-

Long story short, the Doctor did end up taking him to the 27th century after all, even if begrudgingly. Jack had forgotten how much he hated his century, but good thing they only had to focus on the rift.

“We just got to connect this cables from the TARDIS core into the Torchwood main frame and voilá!” The Doctor said as he opened the doors to the old Torchwood hub, that still looked exactly like it did last time around, except from the havoc being caused by the rift breaking apart.

Jack helped him set the cables with much difficulty. Every step into what felt like a hurricane was strenuous, his legs ached, burned with every movement, until he got to the mainframe. Connecting the cables were the easy part, which really was a blessing. 

“Doctor,” Jack said over their linked con, “it’s all set, you should be able to work your magic.”

“Wonderful!” Jack hissed at the high pitch the Doctor let out. “Come along. I need you here.”

Jack mentally cursed the Doctor for making him cross the mess the hub was twice, but when he entered the TARDIS all thoughts were forgotten. The Doctor was running around the console in a maddening pace, mumbling a few explanations unders his breath.

“What can I do to help?” Jack caught the Doctor’s attention then.

“Finally!” He sprinted over to him and lead him to sit on the benches. “You sit here,” the time lord said as he hooked a few electrodes on Jack’s forehead, “and just think of Ianto, you hear me? Think of that last time you saw him, the date and time specifically, oh-- and the place.”

Jack nodded, set to get to the task. He closed his eyes and let his mind wander, remembering Ianto’s trembling hands over his as a couple of tears fell on his cheeks. Jack’s heart squeezed. He had been trying to forget for the last half a decade, but now all the memories seemed to run free, washing over him ruthlessly.

Every time Ianto smiled, or rolled his eyes. His stupid comebacks and sweet, oh so sweet lips. His cute crumpled face when he opened his eyes first thing in the morning, or how he loved to cuddle, held tight under Jack’s arms. Jack missed his button nose and his stupid soft belly.

He missed being taken care of, being loved, his caresses, his assertion and attention. He loved Ianto and wanted--needed him back.

“Just a few more seconds!” the Doctor screamed somewhere in the middle of the mess, and Jack focused again on that terrible day, feeling Ianto’s silky hair under his palm as he hugged him close, pretending for a few moments he wouldn’t die, that all was going to be alright.

The main console exploded, sparks flying everywhere, but that didn’t stop the Doctor for getting the job done. With one last push on a few buttons, everything went silent. Jack opened his eyes, focusing on the Doctor’s fast breathing as he looked eyes widen to the floor in front of him.

His heart stopped when his eyes drifted downwards and he promptly lifted from his seat, kneeling down in front of the limp body.

“Ianto!” Jack’s hands flew over his chest, clumsy opening his tie and the top buttons from his shirt. No sign of him waking up. “Doctor, Ianto was killed by a poisonous gas those aliens threw at us. I think it’s still in his system.”

The Doctor let out a series of curses under his breath.

“Why didn’t you tell me that before?” he ran downstairs and fumbled with a few boxes before he found what he was looking for. In what felt like two steps, he was by Jack’s side, giving him a flask. “Make him smell this. It’s an air purifier, easily finds and kills whatever is making his body shut down.”

Jack nodded and opened the flask over Ianto’s nose. After a few seconds when nothing seemed to happen, Jack pressed the flask closer still.

“Come on, Ianto, wake up.” his voice cracked slightly as his eyes burned. He couldn’t lose Ianto again, not when he had everything to save him. 

A strong hand rested on his shoulder, and Jack stifled a sob. This couldn’t be happening.

“Let’s take him to a guest room, Jack. He needs to rest.” 

“Does it mean he’ll survive?” he looked up hopefully at the Doctor. Normally, he would be the one doing the comforting, but normally he wasn’t desperately trying to revive a lover. No, not any lover, Ianto.

The Doctor hesitated, and Jack’s hope left him like a punch to his guts instantly. The stinging in his eyes morphed into tears which ruined Ianto’s beautiful dark suit. His shoulders shook silently as he rested his head over Ianto’s unmoving chest.

“Wake up, Ianto, please.”

-

When he opened his eyes, Ianto was very aware of his unfamiliar surroundings. He jolted out of bed, instinctively searching for his gun on his waist, not really surprised that his holster was empty. With trained eyes, he scanned the the room for anything that looked threatening, and was confused to find nothing strange.

His suspicious only grew when he tried to open the door, which opened swiftly with no struggle. So maybe he wasn’t in a hostage situation as he first thought. Damn his Torchwood training, always teaching to wait for the worst.

Once outside his room, as he took in the alien-ish designs of the corridors, he realized he might not be on Earth anymore. Ianto gulped and didn’t let that new piece of information get to him, at least not for now.

He heard a set of murmurs coming from his right, and decided the best way to find out where he was, was by finding out who had him, hostage or not. Little by little the corridor morphed from the frigid light tech blue to a warm orange, until he was confronted with a significant console room.

If it could be called a console room. 

He carefully climbed the glass stairs to the main floor, where the alien console laid in the middle, but froze when he saw two people standing with their backs to him behind the alien tech. One of them, the taller, slender one stiffened for only a second, but he knew the man had noticed Ianto approaching.

The other one hadn’t yet. He had his head down, short hair spiking in every direction as he murmured something. He sounded sad, even if Ianto couldn’t catch what he said.

The taller man nodded, flicked his eyes in Ianto’s direction and winked conspirationaly when their eyes met. Ianto froze as he watched him whispering something into the sad man’s years before taking a few steps back. There was something in the sad man that was familiar, Ianto realized, his neck, maybe, the hair too.

Sad man straightened his back, suddenly aware, and recognition flashed in Ianto’s mind.

“Jack!” he shouted, sprinting in his direction just in time to see him turning, wishful expression in face. It quickly morphed into something more heartwarming.

Ianto latched his hands behind Jack’s neck as his lover cupped both his hand on his cheeks, bringing their foreheads together. They swung in place, synching their movements as their breathed in the same air again, in what felt like an eternity.

“I thought you had died.” Jack whispered, voice raw with emotions. Ianto closed his eyes and nodded. 

“I thought so, too.”

He smiled then, by each second that passed he felt more alive, stronger than before. He leaned in and captured Jack’s lips, erasing from their memories the last kiss they shared, when Ianto’s lungs were giving out, and his face too cold and lips too dry.

A few tears got mixed into their kiss, and frankly he couldn’t tell who they were from. They broke apart when the tall man cleaned his throat.

“Very well, hi, Ianto, I’m the Doctor. Nice to meet you.” he stretched out a hand, which Ianto shook, if a little confused. “You are welcome, by the way. I saved you, well, we both did, so you’ve got to thank Jack properly later.” The Doctor smiled through his rambling and Ianto snorted. If Jack hadn’t told him the Doctor was prone to talk a mile per hour he would have been overwhelmed, “Oh, by the way, Jack, Ianto, something I forgot to mention before. Ianto is now a child from the TARDIS, which means, theoretically, his lifespan is indefinite. That’s my present to you, Jack.”

Ianto’s mouth fell open. Was he hearing it right? He was immortal now? He quickly glanced at Jack, afraid the man would find this new discovery horrifying, but the look in his face told a different story.

He had a genuine smile on his lips, and his eyes shone with gratitude, he turned to Ianto and interlaced their fingers. When he spoke, his voice trembled.

“Thank you, Doctor.”

[the-stories-in-my-head-95]

Masquerade

Tony Stark x Reader

Summary- Tony Stark’s annual masquerade ball is the biggest party of the year, getting an invitation to the ball is harder than getting into the MET gala. So how did you get your hands on one? Well it helps to have a meddling best friend.

Message- This is for @thefanficfaerie‘s backstreetsbackchallenge!! Want a part 2?  Here’s information about Ko-fi bribes!

Word Count- 1547

“I’m not going.” You say, tossing the invitation back at Nat.

“Yes you are.” Natasha says as she grabs it out of the air.

“You can’t make me go!” You sneer, glaring at your best friend.

“You’re coming. You were invited, it would be rude not to go.” Natasha says, folding her arms over her chest.

“No.” You say, shaking your head. “You were invited, my names just written in on your plus one line.”

“Same thing.” Natasha says, shrugging.

“That’s your world, Nat. Not mine.” You sigh. “I’m not like you, I’m just a scientist that works for SHIELD.”

“That’s dumb, you’re dumb.” Natasha says, rolling her eyes.

“I’m a genius.” You say.

“You’re my best friend Y/N.” Natasha murmurs, putting her hand on your shoulder. “That makes it your world too.”

“I don’t have anything fancy enough to-.”

“I’ll take care of all of that.” Natasha says, smiling. “All you have to do is agree to go.”

“Fine.” You groan. “I’ll go to the rich people party.”

“You’ll have fun, I promise.” Nat says.

“Why are you really pushing this?” You ask, eyes narrowing. “You’ve never pushed me to meet your Avenger friends before!”

“So there’s this guy…” Natasha starts.

“No!” You yell. “You promised, no more set ups!”

“But-.”

“Do you remember Budapest?” You ask.

“That wasn’t my fault-.”

“It took 3 months for Clint’s eyebrows to grow back.” You say.

“Fine, I won’t set you up.” Natasha sighs. “But you’re still coming!”

“Fine.” You sigh.

“Stop acting like you’re not excited!” Natasha says. “You used to love dancing and parties.”

“I hate that you know me so well.” You grumble as you walk away from Natasha.

“That’s what best friends are for!” Natasha calls and you flip her off over your shoulder. “Love you too!”

**2 months later**

“I look ridiculous.” You sigh, fiddling with the large white sleeves of the ball gown that Nat had put you in.

“You look hot as fuck.” Nat says.

“I look like a cloud.”

“A hot cloud.” Clint mumbles.

“Shut up!” You laugh.

“Here’s your mask.” Natasha says.

“It’s very sparkly.” You murmur, running your fingers over the small crystals that make up your mask.

“Let me help.” Natasha fusses as you move to put the mask on. “There now you’re perfect!”

“Where are your masks?” You ask.

“Right here.” Clint says, opening the box that was next to him on the couch. When the lid comes of you see two golden masks.

“They’re beautiful.” You murmur, watching as Natasha takes her mask out of the box.

“Help me?” Natasha asks, holding out her mask.

“Sure.” You mumble, taking the mask. After helping Nat with her mask, she helps Clint with his.

“Ready?” Natasha asks, looking at you.

“As ready as I’ll ever be.” You say, grinning a bit.

“Relax, Y/N, You’ll have loads of fun!” Clint says, throwing his arm over your shoulder. “Maybe we can convince Thor to give you some of his special mead.”

“Doubtful.” Natasha says. “Now let’s go, we’re already late.”

“You’re the one who insisted on getting ready at my place.” You say, rolling your eyes.

“That’s because she wants to make a dramatic entrance.” Clint says, as he saunters out the door.

“Liar!” Natasha yells, but she’s blushing slightly, so you know Clint’s telling the truth.

****

“Holy shit!” You gasp, looking around the large room. It was filled with chandeliers, mirrors and smoke.

“Stark really knows how to set a mood.” Clint says, walking past you. “Hey, why is Steve wearing his old Captain America costume? It looks like the one from back when he was a soldier.”

“No idea.” Natasha says, shrugging. “But if I had to guess, he probably heard the word mask and assumed he was supposed to be in uniform.”

“Sounds about right.” Clint snorts. “Who’s our favorite star spangled man talking to anyway? I don’t recognize her.”

“That’s Miss America.” You say.

“How can you tell?” Clint asks. “You can’t even see her face.”

“She’s wearing the sash, idiot.” You say, rolling your eyes.

“Hey, no need to be mean.” Clint huffs.

“Yeah, that’s my job.” Nat says, bumping her hip with yours. “Clint and I have to make our rounds, will you be okay here by yourself for a bit?”

“Yeah” You say nodding. “Go be important, I’ll be fine on my own for a while.”

“We’ll be back soon.” Clint says, as Natasha drags him off.

****

It only took about ten minutes for you to make your way to the corner of the room. Happily observing people, while you waited for your two best friends.

“You don’t look like you’re having a lot of fun.” A voice to your right says.

“Oh?” You ask, looking at the man who was talking to you. His whole face was covered by a mask.

“I noticed you from across the room. You look lonely.”

“We’ll I’m not lonely anymore.” You murmur. “I have you.”

“Funny.” The man says. “What’s your name? I don’t recognize you.”

“Now where’s the fun in giving you my name?” You ask. “Isn’t that the point of tonight? Everyone gets to be mysterious? We can be whoever we want?”

“I like that.” That man says, you can hear the smile in his voice. “Would you like to dance?”

“Ok.” You say, talking the man’s hand. He leads you out onto the dance floor and puts his hand on your hip, before starting to sway the two of you gently to the beat of the music.

“So you wanna play in a game of disguise?” The man asks.

“Of course I do.” You murmur. “We can be whoever we want, just for tonight.”

“It’s like a perfect dream.” The man murmurs.

“What does that even mean?” You giggle.

“I don’t really know.” The man whispers. “So what should I call you? If I can’t know your name?”

“You can call me yours.” You say and the man starts to laugh.

“Very smooth.” The man says.

“I thought so!” You say, smiling.

“The songs almost over.” The man says.

“So?” You say. “That doesn’t mean we have to stop dancing.”

“So you’ll stay and dance with me?”

“I’ll stay through the night to dance with you.” You murmur.

“So cheesy!” The man laughs. “I love it!”

“Thank you.” You say, grinning up at the man.

****

The two of you dance for a couple hours, talking about anything and everything.

“Come on.” The man says, suddenly.

“Where are we going?” You ask, following quickly behind him.

“To be alone.” He says as he leads you onto the elevator. Then he presses a button and the door’s start to close.

“I don’t think we’re allowed off of that floor.” You say.

“It’s fine.” The man says, giving your hand a comforting squeeze.

“If you say so.” You say as the elevator doors open. “Holy shit, is this Tony Starks lab?”

“Yeah.”

“We really shouldn’t be here.” You murmur.

“I-I know you said that you wanted to pretend and be someone else-but- I-I just know that I would kick myself later if- can we please- I gotta know the woman behind this mask.” He stammers.

“A-Alright.” You murmur, as you move to untie the ribbon holding your mask in place. “I’m Y/N, I came here with my friends Natasha and Clint they’re-.”

“Avengers.” The man interrupts. “I know.”

“So now that you know who I am, are you going to show your face to me?” You ask, after a beat of silence.

“Right-yeah-of course.” The man says, as he stumbles to take his mask off. “Tony Stark, nice to officially meet you.” He adds as he extends his hand out to you.

“Holy shit.” You murmur, putting your hand in his.

“I’d understand- if you wanted to leave.”

“Why would I want to do that?” You ask.

“I’m-well- I’m me.” Tony says.

“And I’m me.” You murmur.

“This feels like the-.” Tony starts.

“Start of something great.” You whisper, finishing Tony’s thought.

“Yeah.” Tony says, leaning down until his lips are inches away from yours. “Will you stay?”

“The night?” You ask.

“For forever?” He asks. Instead of answering you move your head up and kiss him.

“Is that a yes?” Tony asks when the two of you break apart.

“That’s a yes.” You murmur, pulling Tony in for another kiss.

**Nat’s POV**

“I am the best matchmaker.” Natasha says, as she looks down onto you and Tony from her hiding place in the vents.

“Let’s go, this is getting creepy.” Clint whispers, as he starts to crawl back to where the party was being held.

“Come on, just say it.” Natasha says. “I need the validation.”

“Is Tony and Y/N sucking face not all the validation you need?” Clint asks.

“No.” Nat says. “That part was actually a bit gross.”

“Yeah, it was.” Clint says, nodding in agreement.

“Clint.” Natasha says, arching her eyebrow.

“Fine, you are the best matchmaker ever.” Clint says.

“Damn right I am.” Nat murmur, as she jumps out of the vents.

“What are you two doing?” Steve asks.

“You will be my next project.” Natasha says to Steve before walking away.

“Do I even want to know?” Steve asks.

“Honestly, it’s probably better you didn’t.” Clint says.

@ellysiacat @jenniegs​ @thedoctorscamanion​ @loveisfriendship ​ @mymourningtea​ @cassiopeia-barrow @marvels-ghost ��@fandoms-fandoms-everywhere99​  ​ @loverbug1123 @pleasantdreamqueen​ @pbandj14​ @itsintothegreatbeyondstuff @princessleah129​ ​ @courtneychicken​ @battlebunnyteardropsinthesun​ @that-one-book-girl​ ​ @yipthegoddess​ @brooke-supernatural16​ @ailynalonso15​ @thefangirlliveson​ @conspiracy-teen​  @thegoddessofvampire​ @the-butterfly21​ @theshortegg​ @witchseer25607​ @bee-wrecker​ @precious-cinnamon-roll666​ @destiel-artemis @jackles-jadalecki​ @thisismysecrethappyplace​ @marvelismylifffe​  @kanupps06 @okayputta @geeksareunique @mummy-woves-you @crazy-little-thing-called-buck  @writing-red​  @leticiakael​  @marvelismylifffe​ @tabziecat​ @ravenclaw-fangirl-7 @huntermichelle​ ​ @learisa​ @cutie1365​ @msmaximoff​ ​ @kitkatgaming​ ​​ @writings-and-stuff​ ​@xxashy999xx​ @sebba-hiddles​ @slashheartlover​ @scarlettsoldier​ @ladysergeantbarnes​ @i-just-wanna-run-hell @tonystarkismyboy @bestillmystuckyheart @musedhufflepuff@dontevenblink-badwolf-tardis @iamwarrenspeace  @supernatural-strangerthings-1980​ @petitesmate  @gracielou0518​  @babyteacup​

[swanky-batman]

Bringing Down the Hammer Part 2

Tony Stark x Reader

Warnings: Seriously- swearing. Violence, graphic depictions of small stories, drinking, adult situations. Just. All of the things.

Part two finds us the first morning of Y/N’s stay at the famed Avengers tower and her attempt at a normal life.

Masterlist  || Ko-Fi

Beginning

———————-

Your alarm rang and you fell off the bed, not used to the set up of the end table here compared to your place. 

“Fuck me.” You rubbed your arm, sighing as you went and got into the shower.

“Morning!” Wanda greeted, surprisingly cheerful. 

“Morning.” You greeted back, your eyes widening at the sight of the coffee pot. “You guys got to-go cups?” You gestured towards it as you checked your watch. Bucky and Steve walked in, coming from an apparent workout as Wanda nodded and opened a cupboard.

“Thanks.” You smiled to her, nodding towards the boys who walked in.

“Hey!” Nat called from the top of the stairs, finishing getting dressed. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

You pointed at your chest, looking around, “Me? What the shit did I do?”

“Language.” Steve sighed and Bucky snorted, rolling his eyes.

“You’re supposed to wake me up so I can go with you to work.”

“Nat, no offense but you are the last person I would ever purposely wake up in the morning.” You chuckled, grabbing a pack of pop tarts out of the open drawer (thanks to Wanda) and grabbing your to go cup, heading towards the elevator.

“Yeah, well, too bad. I’m not having you get killed ‘cuz I’m cranky in the morning.”

“Cranky?!” You laughed, turning towards the room, “The last time I tried waking her up she shot me. Actually shot me.” Wanda, Steve and Bucky all gaped and laughed at the same time.

“In the arm.” She scoffed, “Besides- these people will do so much worse than a love tap.”

“I need an updated dictionary, ‘cuz getting shot is not my definition of a love tap.” You checked your watch, “Damn, I gotta get going.”

“I’m coming with you!” She called.

“You don’t even have shoes, my dear.” You smirked, giving a general wave to the room before scooting into the elevator while Nat tried to frantically run upstairs.

You popped one of your headphones in and hit your morning playlist, starting the walk to work. It actually wasn’t that far and you didn’t have a vehicle either way since you lived in the city. “Should only be about a 20 minute walk.” You checked your watch again, throwing your pop tarts into your bag and taking a sip of coffee as you walked.

A screech from behind you made you shoot back a look, seeing a flashy sports car driving up near you, “Need a ride?” Tony called, looking over his sunglasses.

“I’m good walking, thanks.”

“I have an angry widow on my six that says otherwise.” He smirked, giving a small shrug as you sighed and got in the passenger side.

“Thanks. Nat is a little too clingy for me to handle this morning.” You smirked, keeping your bag in your lap.

He sped off, chuckling, “Where are we off to?”

You gave him directions on the way there, noting the motorcycle chasing behind. “Christ she doesn’t give up.” You chuckled, nodding towards it.

Tony smirked, “Call Romanoff.” He spoke to the car, and when she picked up you spoke up.

“Nat get off our ass- clearly you know I’m getting a ride at this point.” You flipped off the person behind you who weaved around a car to get closer. 

“What are you two talking about? I noted that Tony took you and came home.” Her voice tensed, “Who’s following you?!” You looked over at Tony, mouth stuck in an open jaw gaze as you looked back.

“No-nothing.” You stammered out, your heart speeding up.

“Your friend is god awful at pranks, Romanoff. Hanging up now.” Tony pressed end, immediately speeding up, putting up the cars defenses. A dark tint came over the windows. Nat’s face lit up your phone as she called you, and your breathing picked up.

“Well, fuck. So much for my day to day.” You paused and shook your head, laughing. “We have got to be imagining it, right?”

Shooting came from the bike as people around ducked down, screaming.

“Fuck me!” You lowered your head automatically.

“Hold on.” Tony called, speeding around a parked car and onto an incoming highway traffic.

“To what?” You shouted back, instinctively bracing the side of the car and the arm rest by Tony’s arm.

“O-kay.” Tony’s face tightened, looking a little uncomfortable.

“What? A good okay or a fucked okay then?” You dared not look ahead, instead focusing on his face and features, trying to gain insight as to what was happening. 

His arms tensed and you felt a scraping on the sides of the car as he pushed through something. You braved a look back to spot more than one vehicle on your tail as your phone lit up again with Nat’s face. You threw your phone in the back seat with your bag, breathing through.

“Okay, what can I do to help? Are there weapons?”

“I’m Tony Stark, of course I have weapons.” He smirked tightly, trying to play it cool. “The question is can you use them?”

You blinked for a moment, shaking your head. “Probably not. But I can drive.”

“Oh no you don’t this is my baby.” Another set of bullets came in and his face tensed again.

You sighed, hitting the cruise control button as you reached underneath his seat and pushed the bar back, flicking your leg over the middle console as you held the wheel. Instead of fighting you, he seemed to give in. Here came the awkward part, you sliding in and him sliding out. You were in between seats and he shifted in between seats as well, trying to move behind you as one of the cars came up and bumped into you, knocking you back into him, his arms sliding around your waist. 

“You good?” He asked, trying to steady you before receiving a nod and sliding the remainder of the way out.

“Fucking murk these jerks.” You called, finally able to pull the seat up and be in full control, taking it off cruise and looking in the mirrors. 

Tony reached into the glove box and then looked back and flicked the back seat up, revealing a half pieced Iron Man suit.

“You always come prepared?” Your eyebrow twitched into a tease and it earned a grin from him.

“There’s too many cars here.” He hissed, looking around.

“Got this.” You called, keeping an eye on the five bikes and vehicles behind you.

“What-” His head flicked over to you as you flicked the wheel, riding over a bump and a slight grass hill, spinning off the entrance ramp the wrong way and onto a street leading towards construction.

Three managed to stay directly behind you as you weaved into the site which was closed today.

“Shit shit shit.” You flicked your eyes to Tony for forgiveness as you crashed through the locked metal fence, “I’m sorry.” Gaining speed again, you rode quickly as Tony kept a tight line on his face, slowly opening the sunroof to lift his body up and point his gloved hand out, shooting missiles at the two cars behind you.

You reached a hand up to his chest to steady him a little as you swerved away from the incoming car who came from the other side.

A few minutes and some obstacles later you were back on the street, moving quickly to get away from the scene. Tony was back inside, silent, his jaw tensed.

“Take a left up here.”

You obeyed, following his directions to a small parking garage all the way to the bottom. You parked, staying still for a few minutes.

He got out, slamming the door, making you jump a little before opening yours.

You looked at him for indicators as to what he was feeling. Pissed, kinda scary, kinda sexy? Nope, don’t need that. You rubbed your face, clearing your throat.

“What the hell was that?” He asked, finally making eye contact.

Yep, all those things you listed and more- hurt? “I’m guessing it was Hammer’s goons.”

“No,” He took a step closer, “That driving.”

You paused, looking up at him. “Adrenaline?”

“Bullshit.”

“Who’s the sailor now?”

“Stop. Evading.” His face was just in front of yours and you could feel his heat in front of you. 

“Tony-” You looked a little sad, sorrowful.

“You need to tell me what the hell is happening. You are doing exactly what I asked you not to do!” You could feel his anger.

“Look-”

“You put my family in danger!” He shouted again.

“I’m sorry!” You shouted back, this time matching his anger.

“I don’t think you understand what just happened. What if Natasha was the one who picked you up? You guys would have been dead on a bike right now! I need to know I can have you back at the house- I think I’ve earned the explanation.”

You sighed, lowering your tone a little. “You can keep yelling questions but are you going to let me answer anything?”

He paused, his face shaking for a moment before he backed up ever so slightly.

You took a breath, trying to calm down. “Look- these guys are really Hammer’s goons as far as I know. They are the only ones I know of that want me dead.” He looked like he wanted to scream back a sarcastic answer but he kept himself contained. 

“Fuck I wish I had more than coffee right now- look. Long version is- I work in criminal justice, I’m working on a program to join multiple different parts of programs together to expand records for the overabundance of Jane and John Doe’s. The mafia wasn’t exactly thrilled with the idea of me linking bodies to different jurisdictions. Kidnapped me a while back from Florida, but because my program was being implemented in the United States they figured they would move me to a different part of the world. Well, for that among information they wanted.” You paused, biting your lip and pushing back those thoughts. 

“Is that how you know them?” His eyes still looked dangerous, but the rest of him seemed to calm down a bit.

You nodded slightly, “Budapest was a wild ride that I am not legally allowed to discuss.” You smirked, trying to lighten the mood.

Tony paused, soaking in the information.“What the hell happened there? All we get are weird snippets of ‘memories’.”

“I’ll leave the details to your imagination. Getting out of the area was a challenge, the only thing I could do was drive those two out near the end. After multiple days, undercover aliases and stolen cars that couldn’t be linked to us we finally got to a spot where we could take multiple flights before getting to New York. That was last year, I moved to this city. I’ve had my fair share of hiding and secrecy. I need this to be over.” You met his eyes, “I want to be me again.”

He met your eyes, searching your face for a few minutes as you both remained silent.

Some squeaking tires were heard coming in and you both jumped, Tony coming to stand in front of you, still wearing his glove.

“It’s me!” Nat yelled, throwing her helmet off. “What the hell happened out there?”

You stepped around Tony, “Look, Nat-”

She stopped you, looking at Tony, “Why does she look sad? Did you press her for information?”

“He deserved to know as much as I could tell!” You spoke up, trying to get her to look at you.

“Damnit Tony!” She shouted, “Do you know what that does to her?”

“Hey!” You shouted back, “I can handle my story telling now.”

Her mouth stayed tight, “We can talk back at the tower.”

“I can’t go back.” You pulled back, “It’s not fair to put all of you into danger-”

“Who the hell is supposed to look after you then?” She shouted again, getting angry.

“Nat it isn’t fucking right!” You shouted back, “You guys don’t have anyone watching out for you! You should feel safe at least one place.”

“So should you.” Tony spoke up, placing his hand around your shoulders. “Let’s get back home.” He nodded towards Nat, leading you back towards the car.

———————-

Tags: @i-regret-this-already, @breezy1415, @seninjakitey, @imboredsueme, @courtneychicken, @marriedtopeterparker, @imeannooffensebabybut, @cassiopeia-barrow, @daphne-fandom-writing, @notmyfault404, @i-larb-spooderman, @aussiearies, @marvelismylifffe, @kdcollinsauthor

[tarotdeckshuffle]

hello!! first off i’d like to say i love the way you portray the ffxv characters so much, your writing is lovely!! this is kind of an odd request probably, but could i request the bros + ardyn & a ftm trans reader as their s/o? as a trans guy it’d mean the world to me to finally see an hc like this. it can be any trope you want! i just need the goods lmao. thank you in advance!!

This is it!!!! This is the request I am so excited to have received and have the opportunity to fulfill! Thank you so much, Anon, for allowing me this opportunity! I don’t think your request is strange, at all! I hope I can give you some head cannons that you’ll enjoy!

But what trope should I do? Should it be angst? Should it be fluff? I want this to be good!!! So you know what we’ll go with? Going to your first Pride Celebration with the character! Let’s also assume you’ve been in a happy, healthy relationship with them for awhile.

A few other side notes: Not everyone’s experience with Pride is joyful. If this does not reflect your personal experiences with this wonderful month, I am truly sorry. Please keep in mind that your voice is valid and needs to be heard because more people may have the same experiences you’ve had.

Also, I’m not the most qualified to write this piece: I’m cis. But I’m going to try my best for this request! I really really hope I do it well. 

Happy Pride Month!!!🏳‍🌈

Taglist: @idiotflowerex, @laststory1013, @sayaoqueen, @jophinabean, @mysme-already

If you like what you read, please consider supporting me on Patreon or buying me a Ko-fi!

Noctis

You had wanted to go to a Pride Parade for forever,

But were never sure if you really “fit in”.

You were really unsure if you wanted to go alone.

You brought up the idea to Noct in passing,

And he saw your hesitation.

“What’s wrong? Do you want to go?”

Yes! You wanted to go, to celebrate and be proud of who you are,

But…how do you explain to a PRINCE what it’s like to always feel like an outcast?

Even in your own skin?

Noctis sees your conflict and wants to help you compromise with yourself.

He tells you that you’ll go together and at least check it out.

The day arrives.

You’re so nervous.

Noctis has your hand in his the whole time.

The parades always start with a bang!

You watch as it goes by,

And then you see the first sign.

An old woman is walking next to a young person, carrying a sign that reads:

“Proud Parent of A Trans Child!”

And like a drop of water before the dam bursts,

Her sign is followed by a stream of more!

“Trans Rights Are Human Rights!”

“The T in LGBT Is Not Silent!”

And the biggest trans flag you’ve ever seen!

The blues, pinks, and whites are so beautiful.

Noctis smiles as he watches the colors reflect in your eyes.

He taps you on the shoulder.

You turn around to see your amazing S/O wearing a new shirt that had been covered by his jacket.

It has a trans flag on it and reads “I love my boyfriend!”

You hug him as your emotions run down your cheeks.

As you regain some composure, you take his hand,

Running to the barrier to get a better look at the parade.

Your trans siblings see you and Noct’s shirt and pull the two of you into the parade with them.

Hand in hand, you walk with Noctis,

Surrounded by people who are your siblings,

Fully accepted and proud of who you are!

Prompto

You’ve never been to Pride?!

He really wants to take you!

And wants to go all out for the event!

“You only get to do your first time once!”

You’re hesitant, but he’s having so much fun.

You just ask that he doesn’t go TOO overboard.

You’re sure he’s going to be all dressed up,

But that’s not really you.

So you get a new t shirt with a trans flag on it.

The day arrives and so does your S/O.

Prompto has dyed his hair rainbow and is wearing a shirt tie dyed with the trans colors!

You laugh at the sight as you take his hand and head towards the event.

He’s taking so many pictures!

Pictures of your reactions to everything,

Pictures of everyone at the event,

And best of all, pictures of the two of you together.

Your favorite picture is one of the two of you kissing in front of a trans flag.

The whole day takes your breath away!

Prompto takes you to all of the events, parades, dances, shops, etc.

But you always get out before you feel uncomfortable.

He’s by your side through everything.

Ignis

Finds out that you’ve never been to a Pride event before.

Finds it slightly distressing.

“They truly are special events.”

But wants to respect you and any insecurities you may have.

If you don’t want to be in the middle of all of those people,

He understands.

Don’t worry, he knows someone on the inside.

He got you “special seats” to watch the parade.

Turns out, he knows the parade organizer,

And got you access to a private balcony over the event.

It’s just the two of you.

You watch as the parade passes.

There are so many colors!

And so much happiness!

Sure, you see the normal drag queens,

But you see more trans men than you have ever seen before!

Every shape is celebrated!

You can’t help but whisper to yourself,

“They’re like me…”

Ignis hears you.

He inches closer to you and wraps his hand around your waist.

“You’re not alone…”

His words mean both the crowd below you and him,

Which he stresses by gently kissing your temple.

You smile, turning to kiss him fully.

“Should we go down?” You ask, feeling prepared for the full Pride experience.

“We should! But first…I have one request.”

You give your suave and mischievous S/O a skeptical look.

He smiles back,

“Let’s really kick off this celebration.”

Ignis pulls a small remote from his pocket and hands it to you.

“Go ahead, press the button.”

You do.

There’s a great swish!

You look over the balcony as clamps release, unfurling a giant trans flag.

You gasp, before throwing yourself into Ignis’s arms.

Great cheers erupt from the crowd below.

“I love you,” he whispers into your kiss.

“Thank you.”

Sure, all the other flags are unfurling on balconies around yours,

But this flag and this moment are all yours.

Gladio

Laughs a bit when he finds out you’ve never been to a Pride parade.

“They’re…not for everyone. Trust me, I love them. But if you don’t like noise or people, they may not be for you.”

Why is it not surprising that he’s gone?

But you really want to go,

Some part of you feels like you NEED to go to at least one event.

This is supposed to be your community, right?

The day arrives.

Gladio is completely shirtless the whole day,

But for once, he’s not the only one.

He’s drawing very thirsty looks because of it.

“You can put a shirt on…” you comment at one point.

“Or you could take yours off…” he retorts.

That’s a hard pass.

You bounce between events with your S/O.

He’s always protecting you and has an escape plan.

No one even touches you.

And you have an amazing time.

At the end of the day, there’s a photo shoot for the men in the parade.

Gladio gets invited (of course).

And he pulls you with him.

“At least be on the sidelines for me, please?”

You agree.

You watch him pose when a man smiles at you and says,

“C’mon! Do a couple’s pose!”

You know what? Today has been the best day, yet, so why not?

You get up to pose with Gladio,

And remove your shirt.

For the first time in your forever, you’re proud of your body.

Even the binder/surgery.

The crowd is, too.

There are calls and whistles and cheers.

Gladio leans you over and kisses you.

He finds your body perfect, everyday.

And at least today, you do too.

Ardyn

You mention at one point that that you’ve never been to Pride,

He just smiles.

The two of you wander outside of Niflheim often,

So it doesn’t surprise you when you suddenly leave the Empire.

But it does surprise you when you reach a rainbow colored Insomnia.

“Welcome, my love, to PRIDE!” Ardyn bows at the entrance to colorful festival.

The whole celebration is a guerrilla warfare styled happiness against the gray city.

All love is celebrated as are all bodies.

Ardyn gets you a trans flag to wear about your shoulders,

You find a rainbow fedora for him to wear.

You end up dancing in the streets.

Ardyn is hilarious with you,

Mixing made up moves with VERY old dances.

You end up walking in the parade,

Head held high as you walk shoulder to shoulder with your trans siblings.

Ardyn admires the joy on your face.

But finally, the Terfs come.

Like a missed note on the keyboard,

They ruin a joyous song.

“You’re just a straight girl!” One begins as they see you draped in your flag holding hands with Ardyn.

Your blood is boiling,

It took you long enough to get to where you felt comfortable in your body, and now?!

Now they want to ruin it?!

They want to question every step of your journey?!

What right do they…

Ardyn has decked them.

Straight in the face.

Their nose is bleeding.

You’re stunned along with the rest of the crowd,

Before applause erupts.

The TERF stands up.

“HOW DARE YOU!?”

He turns to you and shrugs.

“I believe it’s your turn, if you want…”

You take barely a moment to think.

BAM!

Their nose is really broken now.

As their hateful mouth is finally silenced, you lean over them.

“So, tell me: Who do I hit like?”

Ardyn laughs as he pulls you close to kiss you.

[insomniac-dot-ink]

Tiffany Green and the Monster at the End of the Hall

Genre: supernatural thriller/monster story, wlw

Rating: M for monster-related violence

Words: 12.8k

Summary: Tiffany Green has watched too many scooby doo episodes and now she’s trying find the local monster at the motel her mother works.

Too bad there’s a rival monster hunter in the area.

Patreon ⭐ Ko-Fi ⭐ WordPress ⭐ Twitter

warning: for serious injury, blood, and fatalities

--

Tiffany Green sat crossed-legged with a transistor radio in her lap and the bud of one headphone in her ear, she stuck her tongue out a little bit and squinted into the dark.

The space was cramped, four walls on all sides brushing against her, barely fitting all of her knees and elbows- which her aunt joked was 70% of her to begin with. The carpet underneath was thick as sin and smelled of must and the death of the 1980s, a mini-ironing board was pushed to the side on her right.

She wore a large brown bomber jacket that’s sleeves pooled around her wrists and made her neck sweat. Her lank blonde hair fell down past her shoulders, which she tucked it into her jacket to keep it back, though her fringe bangs in turn fell into her eyes more than a couple times anyway.

She had long limbs, knobby elbows, and an almost sickly pallor that her father called ‘the antithesis of California darling.’ Her eyes were a flat grey that sometimes shifted into being a proper blue.

She wore stark white shorts and a peach tank-top with spaghetti straps that teacher’s traditionally didn’t appreciate. She had notably ‘attentive’ large ears with three different earrings in each, a sun, a moon, and several stars attached by thin silver chains. She hummed as she worked.

“And she’s a maniac, maniac, on the floor.” She sang softly to herself and hunched over the buttons of the old radio. The speakers droned from one station to the next.

“--It’s going to be another scorcher-”

“-you’ll have to bury your head in the sand to ignore this ne--”

‘--I wanted you so bad, before I you came into my life I-”

“--a dan--”

“--up--”

“--as--” Tiffany shook the radio in midair and crunched herself up in a ball around it, “just one good signal,” she pinched her lips together, “come to mama.” She kept turning the knob until the radio went completely silent, channel 98.3, a sudden, inexplicable hush erupted from the other end. She paused, heart tumbling down her throat and eyes going wide. She ripped her earbud out and stuffed into her pocket, she leaned forward.

Her knuckles bleached as she held the radio harder and stuck her face up to the dials. “Hello…?”

Static warbled through the signal, a sudden buzz that sizzled through the air and made the hairs on her arm stand on end, her mouth fell open. “Tell me what you want.” She whispered.

The static increased, like it was singing. Tiffany shook her radio, “Tell me why you’re doing this.”

The static crooned into a soft hum, she held her breath, waiting for something. The silence stretched.

“Oh. No.” A voice huffed, “Tiffany!”

Tiffany jumped violently as another voice called out.

“Tiffany,” banging came from the other side of the door, “young lady!”

Tiffany flattened against the wall as light came flooding in from the entrance, she hissed at the intrusion, “noooo!” She cried with a sharp soprano.

A scowling face loomed over her, blocking the door, her mom put her hands on her hips and frowned deeply. “You better not be doing what I think you’re doing.”

Her mom was a medium-sized woman with wide hips and curly brown hair that was tied back by a thick white handkerchief. She wore practical shoes, practical jeans, a blue t-shirt reading ‘Anne’s’ on the front, and a single simple necklace with a ruby in the center.

Her face was wide and expressive, she had matching ears to Tiffany’s- though they were slightly less adorned.

Tiffany glowered up at her and held the radio up to her ear, she closed her eyes and waited for the static again. “Ugh!” She cried loudly, “mom, do you realize you just interrupted the find of the century?” Her mom groaned and held her head, “out, out, we need this room cleaned an hour ago.” Tiffany tucked her loose bangs behind her ear and sat up straight, “why? Nobodies here.” Her mom wagged a finger in the air, “if you’d like me out of a job and no dinner on the table then this room is cleaned by 12pm.” She gave her a sharp glance, “no hiding in the hotel closets and listening to music.” Her mom ushered to her feet and Tiffany huffed.

“I wasn’t listening to music, I was-” “Looking for aliens,” her mom sighed deeply. “Tiffany. Please, honey. I love you. But you have to come out.” Tiffany could have broken into a guffawing-laugh at that, but instead settled for a deep groan .

“It’s a monster mom. M. O. N. S- I mean, you get the point. Not an alien.”

“It’s not going to have to deal with an angry mom if it doesn’t get a move on.” Tiffany promptly scuffled out the closet, eyes down, “the owners will thank me when we aren’t considered the most haunted motel on route 78.”

Her mom tutted again, “we aren’t haunted.” She paused as she reached for the sheets to clean and launder, “we’re just… unlucky.” Tiffany sighed deeply, “I’m going to go try to commune in another room.” “No closets.” She called after her, “and no bothering Mr. Thomas.” “I hear you,” she waved her hand in the air as she stalked off. “I can’t believe that girl is almost 20.” She could hear her mom muttering as she started busily folding and scrubbing and getting down to business.

Anne’s Roadside Motel was a two-story building with around 120 rooms in 30,000 square feet, the place had two owners- neither of which were Anne. It had mattresses people checked for bedbugs and small televisions from the early 00s in place.

The motel had a staff of around 25 people, all of which Mr. Thomas liked to keep a personal relationship with, Rowing was not a big town. It’s main source of income was the highway and the highway was trying it’s best ‘not to become a low-way’ as Mrs. Rodriguez joked.

South Dakota hadn’t bothered to fix roads up in this part of nowhere in a while, it wasn’t close enough to the oil fields and was just south enough of ‘who gives a fuck.’

Tiffany hadn’t been back to this town in 2 years, instead living with her dad in Northern Cali in order to graduate from a ‘good high school.’ Tiffany took the 10 hour car-trip after throwing her cap and had been sitting in closets with a radio since.

Anne’s Roadside Motel didn’t have an Anne in it, but it had a brother and sister that installed a pool 2 years ago and discretely set up rat-traps to really spruce up the place. That was until the rumors started going around, the ones in the newspapers and murmured on the TV screen. Anne’s was having a string of ‘bad luck.’

It looked normal enough, with green flooring and yellow wallpaper, a muted yellow, the type of yellow that bridged on giving you a headache but didn’t quite get there. It smelled like chlorine and wheat, but there were worse smells out there.

The lights were low-hanging and mirrors were from the 90s, the tables were all wooden and the pictures were of random rolling purple mountains that was somewhere definitely not South Dakota.

Breakfast was at 7 every morning and Tiffany got there usually at 7:30 to snag the ‘better bagels’ and some burnt coffee. The other staff liked her, but maybe that’s just what she told herself.

And maybe it’s because she was the only one allowed to talk them about the incidents. Anne’s Roadside Motel was two-stories and 120 rooms.

Tiffany Green planned to visit every single one, and maybe prevent anyone else from dying here.

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

Tiffany was sitting in a swivel chair, making lazy little circles in place and balancing a pencil between her fingertips. She tapped her white sneakers in the air as she splaid out sideways. A woman in a busy red suit jacket and slightly too-tight matching skirt sat next to her in a smaller swivel chair. They lounged just out of sight behind a long linoleum desk with a little bell on it. Tiffany kept her eyes trained on her, trying to catch her eye.

“So,” Tiffany finally said and jerked her head toward the plump middle-aged woman beside her, “last Saturday.” Mrs. Candice Marx gave her a bemused look, “you want more?” Tiffany turned completed toward her, “as much as you remember.” Mrs. Marx, no relation to Karl, looked left and then right before leaning toward her, maybelline bright lipstick puckering, “you know Mr. Thomas isn’t too keen on us gabbing about it.” Tiffany sprouted a slow smile. “I won’t tell ‘em if you don’t.” She sat up straight and a jabbed a pencil in Mrs. Marx’s general direction, “someone has to stop this trouble.” Her blue eyes light up, Mrs. Marx read a lot of detective novels. She bent down, “It’s not all that much to go off of.” Her plush red lips are making a perfect ‘o.’

Tiffany gave her a thumbs up and grabbed her pencil a little more firmly, putting it down to paper. “Whatever you have, whenever you’re ready.”

She cleared her throat, “Well, okay, if you’re interested.”

“I am.” She nodded firmly, trying to edge her on. Mrs. Marx touched her blonde bob, primping it, as if she was being interviewed for local day time TV, “Danny was staying at Elsa’s so I agreed to do the nighter, it was Saturday, last Saturday. Ms. Thomas is having us do the late reception for real you know. She’s a real… well, she’s a real go-getter. Going to improve the stains in the reception hall next she said.” “Uh-huh,” Tiffany focused on scribbling nothing very meticulously.

Mrs. Marx tilted her head to the side, “I was just resting my eyes for a moment-” “When?” Tiffany started really writing.

“Oh, I’d say around 2am? Maybe a little sooner.” She snorted, “We weren’t gettin’ any calls, except from crackpots asking about setting up seances here. You know Mr. Thomas won’t have any of that- he’s not into that type of money Clyde says.”

Tiffany tried to keep her expression blank, “What happened next?” She twisted her mouth, “well, no phone calls. I was sittin’ right here, I don’t know really what it was, some sorta noise-” “What type of noise?” Tiffany sat completely upright. “A buzzing?” Mrs. Marx scrunched her nose up, “no, maybe, it was sorta… crunchy? I was drifted off, all I remember next is just waking up, don’t really know why. One moment I was lying in the chair, and the next I was upright and lookin’ at the lobby.” Tiffany leaned forward, “What did you see?” Mrs. Marx bent down very low, her caked-on mascara almost close enough to brush her, “That’s just the thing.” She breathed, “everything. It was bright, too bright, you know? All the lights turned on.” Tiffany nodded fastidiously, “What did you do?” “Well,” Mrs. Marx flattened her skirt out, “I thought of high-tailin’ it out of there, don’t want to end up like poor Mr. Koviak.” “Yes, absolutely,” Tiffany was jotting quickly: noise, lights, waking up.

“There was this real… feel to it too. Like something cold, or like a headache, right before the pain part.” “K,” Tiffany furrowed her brow: headache?

“The lights were all on, even the ones that are motion activated,” Mrs. Marx’s eyes were wide, “but only in the left hallway.” She pointed, “Right over there.” “What did you do?” Tiffany adrenaline flooded her, “What did you see?” “Well what was there to do? I-” A bell dinged. Tiffany gripped her pencil so hard she’s afraid it might break in two, light footsteps approached.

“Excuse me,” A rich voice called out. “Are there any rooms for tonight?” Mrs. Marx and Tiffany turned toward the lobby in unison, Mrs. Marx immediately burst into a practiced smile. “Of course!” She pushed her rolling chair toward the desk and sat up straight. “What can we do you for?” The customer was a young woman with long brown hair, it had a sleek shine to it but was choppy and uneven in parts, as if someone just hacked at it a couple times. She had high cheekbones, an oval face, and lightly browned skin- native probably, from one of the local tribes.

Her eyes were dark half-moons and her lips were turned down in a grimace, she seemed a little taller than Tiffany. She was wearing a green shirt that reminded her of the military and was carrying a large duffel bag on her shoulder.

Her teeth were stunningly straight and white when she spoke and Tiffany had to lean back from the glare of them. Tiffany hunched her shoulders like a cat sprayed by water as the stranger interrupted them.

I was so close, Tiffany clenched her teeth and pedaled up to the desk next to Mrs. Marx. She was chattering away.

“So there’s bedrooms in the west wing, but not the east right now, but the sunrise in the west windows is just to die for. You can see right all the way to Black Elk Peak, have you been there darling?” “Can’t say I have ma’am.” Her voice was still low and steady, Tiffany eyed her big bag. Something was different about this. “Well it’s just lovely. Especially from the west wing windows!”

“What brings you around here?” Tiffany interrupted, she could feel her mom cringing at her from rooms away.

The young woman raised her eyebrows and refocused on Tiffany, “Just passing through.” Mrs. Marx nodded, “Most folks are.” She agreed, “A real travelers town.” She gave a small laugh, “My own Ricky, that’s my husband, was only passing through when I met him! Said he’d never stay, but look at him now- a curmudgeon with a house in the hills.” Tiffany snorted at that, but the woman just arched her eyebrow up, “sounds nice.” “Oh it is,” Mrs. Marx could go on, but I thought I’d spare the traveler a little.

“Well alright,” I crossed my arms over my chest, “As long as you’re not here for any ghost-snooping, Mr. Thomas is telling Spook Hunters to stay out.”

Mrs. Marx gave a nervous laugh, “I mean, it’s not all that.” “Oh,” the woman just cocked her head to the side, “Ghosts?” “No ghosts,” Mrs. Marx said quickly, “Bad local legends is all.” The woman leaned across the counter, “Should I be worried? I’m sure I could keep go-” “No, no,” Mrs. Marx shot Tiffany a sharp look. “Nothing of the sort, Tiffany here listens to… a lot of wacky podcasts! How long would you be staying with us?”

The woman relaxed, “Just two nights.” She said evenly, “you have internet, right?” “We have internet.” She nodded briefly and then eyed me, “And as long as no ghosts come out I suppose.” She gave a thin smile and took out her credit card. Tiffany leaned forward, “It’s not actually ghost, it’s probably a m-” “So credit card? What name should I put the room under?” The woman adjusted the bag on her shoulder, “Lona,” she said simply, “Davis.”

Mrs. Marx was already nodding and moving onto when breakfast was and the ‘no stealing our bath towels pretty please’ speech with at least two mom jokes.

Tiffany examined Lona again, her eyes dragging up and down. There was definitely something lumpy in the sack, and her boots were metal-toed, a circular tattoo was around her right wrist. And that probably wasn’t her real name.

Tiffany didn’t notice as the transaction completed.

“Have a wonderful stay at Anne’s!”

Lona gave Tiffany another curious look, “I will.” She turned and left, heading to the west wing.

Tiffany exhaled, putting a hand over her heart, then she whipped around to Mrs. Marx. “That’s a monster hunter!”

Mrs. Marx drew back, “What?” “The shirt, the bag, the boots! That girl is here to hunt the monster.” Mrs. Marx wrinkled her nose, “She seems just like everybody else. There’s all sorts that pass through, why, just last week we had a man who was a professional clown. He was dressed normal, but he told me all about at the counter. A traveling clown! Have you ever heard of-”

“Did you see that protection tattoo? She’s on the trail.” Tiffany was certain, a professional!

“Now Ms. Tiffany,” Mrs. Marx clucked, “you can’t make presumptions about someone. Especially,” she put her hands on her hips, “Customers.” “I know, I know, okay,” she waved her off, and tried to keep her theories on track, “we were talking about last Saturday first,” she kicked away from the desk, “I’m all ears.” Mrs. Marx’s eyes went wide again and she turned back to Tiffany, returning to their previous hunched position, “Well, all the lights were on-” “My fair Candice!” Another voice carried over to them, “And lovely young Tiffany.” Tiffany winced so hard she thought her heart dropped out of her ass, “Goddammit,” She cursed under her breath.

“I just saw a customer walking to room 200! A good sight.” They both turned to Mr. Thomas in unison, Mrs. Marx smiling through.

“Indeed!” She chirped, “and more than one night too.” Mr. Thomas just hummed at that and looked between us, “I hope everyone is keeping their wits sharp.” Mr. Thomas chuckled, he was a small man with a pointed mustache and crinkling boyish blue eyes under round glasses, he wore suits everywhere and shiny black shoes.

He also said very pointedly kind things that always translated to ‘keep working’ and ‘do your job already.’ This was his ‘keep working’ phrases right now.

Mrs. Marx shifted in place, “course we are! Sharp as a church point.” She winked, “Ms. Tiffany was just…” She glanced at my notepad. “Doing some schoolwork!” I nod despite the fact I had graduated highschool two weeks ago. Mr. Thomas smiled over like he was making a Christmas list, “Well if you’d like some hel-” “Actually!” Tiffany stood up, realizing she probably wasn’t going to get any more out of this. “Time for me to go. Let’s talk later.” She gave Mrs. Marx a meaningful look and she just nodded.

“And Tiffany,” Mr. Thomas called after her as she tried to quickly scurry away. “The rooms aren’t playthings.” That was one of his more blatant instructions and Tiffany was struck for a moment by feeling six and chastized by the neighbors for throwing things into their yard. She meet his eyes steadily. “Of course,” Tiffany flipped her blonde hair over her shoulder and started walking, “I’m not playing.” She escaped to the second story ice machine room, cramming herself into the nook between vending machine and wall, she started to pour over her notes: noise, lights, wake up, headache?

Her thoughts dragged back to the girl at the counter and she wrote in the margins: monster hunters coming.

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

It was late afternoon, the sun was streaming in through the small box windows at the end of the hall and the AC was on full blast in the simmering heat of summer. Tiffany was holding her pencil up again.

“I know you haven’t talked about it yet Mrs. Ludwig,” She followed the back of bustling old woman in a long grey dress and white bandana tied around her head. “But I’m here to listen.” Mrs. Ludwig didn’t even look over her shoulder as she walked into room 203, it had just lost it’s occupant, a Mr. Virilis. Mr. Virilis moved to greener pastures and left them with only around 5 other customers in the whole motel that night. Two of them were semi-permanent residents at this point, so she wasn’t sure they counted anymore.

Tiffany tried to step in Mrs. Ludwig’s path and catch her eye, “Please, I know it’s a very traumatic experience. I’ve been through that before.” It felt like the five stages of grief as she attempted to bargain. “With all the, uh… blood? Was there blood?”

The Koviak case had been ‘confidential’ and no details, except the occurrence of the death, had been released to the public. He was a traveling European businessman found dead in his bed two months ago, nothing else known. Mrs. Ludwig still didn’t look at her as she got out the cleaning carrier and gloves, she pushed open the propped door with her hip and didn’t look back.

Tiffany steeled herself, she took a bold step forward, “Mr. Koviak’s family has been asking!”

Mrs. Ludwig paused, turned, and fixed her with a potent icy glare, “do you plan on helping me clean?” Tiffany grimaced, her left eyebrow twitching, “Yes! I could. If… we could just have a short chat about the body.” “Run along Tiffany Green.” Mrs. Ludwig closed the door behind her and left Tiffany in the empty hall. As she had all the other times before.

“Fiiine,” Tiffany groaned and did a little spin, dragging her feet down to the other end of the hallway. If she knew Mrs. Ludwig she wouldn’t get another word out of her for at least 24 hours.

Tiffany flipped through her notes again, the fluorescent lights blared overhead, she would have paid them to flicker at this point. Buzz. Do anything.

She walked blankly ahead and fretted quietly to herself. No leads. No knowledge. How did it get around? Was it large? Was it corporeal?

Did it hate motels or just those in southern South Dakota? She just didn’t know.

It wasn’t until she was in the next hall that she heard a whirring of a machine, Tiffany looked up sharply and her eyebrows raised. Someone was actually using the motel gym.

There was a giant glass panel in the middle of the west wing, second floor. It held one elliptical machine, five weights, three sets of bell bars, two exercise benches, three jogging machines, and a water cooler. It had a speckled tile floor and frosted rectangle windows that barely let in the light.

The elliptical machine was whirring round and round as someone took it through its paces. Tiffany slitted her eyes, she recognized the figure: lean and muscled, the girl had a long choppy ponytail and a tattoo around her right wrist.

Her.

Tiffany stood there longer than she rightfully should, watching the girl’s back get damp with sweat and muscles strain with every quick step. Tiffany was tempted to inform her that, according to her notes, this wasn’t the type of monster you can run from. Training wouldn’t matter.

She doubted that would go over well.

Tiffany was leaning toward the elevator, trying to get her body to remember itself and move, it didn’t. The girl paused, her legs slowly pumping to a stop and the machine grinding down, maybe she felt Tiffany eyeing her, she turned. Their eyes met, a little tingle went up Tiffany’s spine, Lona’s dark half-moon eyes search her.

She tilted her head, expression placid as she hopped down to the floor, unreadable, she didn’t break eye contact as she moved. They stare at each other as Lona reached for a towel and wiped down her wet brow. Tiffany bit her bottom lip, maybe she’s the monster.

That seemed unlikely.

Lona took her time walking casually up to the giant window pane, Tiffany stiffened, waiting for something. Lona pursed her lips, cocking her head to the side, still considering Tiffany.

Tiffany shifted in place, her skin crawling and neck prickling, she had a feeling her cheeks had already flushed red.

The girl’s face shifted quickly, mouth falling open, eyes widening, whole body reeling back from the window. Lona pointed wildly over Tiffany’s shoulder, ‘look out!’ She mouthed urgently, breathlessly, pupils dilated. Tiffany jumped, whirling around to look left and right, holding her heart, preparing to run.

Tiffany untensed when nothing is behind her except garish yellow wallpaper and her own thumping heartbeat.

She arranged her face into something stony and unamused, she clenched her hands and turned back to the glass. Lona was grinning.

Tiffany tapped on the glass and leaned forward, “You don’t know what you’re in for.” She mouthed the words slowly, “it’s coming.” Lona frowned at that and then shrugged, “I can’t understand you.” She called, voice muffled by the glass, but still legible.

“Oh.” Lona flipped her long hair back, “do you work here?” Tiffany took a few steps back, “No.” She called, just loud enough.

“Good,” Lona turned back to her elliptical machine, “go home for the night.” Tiffany arched an eyebrow, she took a deep breath, “I don’t think so, I’m going to be the one to find it you know.” Lona glanced over her shoulder again, “Excuse me?” “I know who you are,” Tiffany pronounced loudly, “And this one’s mine.” Lona rolled her eyes, “little dramatic, don’t you think?” She wiped her neck with the towel, “Go take a nap kid, you’re not making sense.” Tiffany growled and then turned on her heels, look out. She mouthed the words and blood boiled from being pranked like a five year old in a haunted house.

What a stupid act, stupid customer who is definitely a monster hunter. Tiffany stomped toward the elevator, thoughts frenzied and whirling. She barely stopped as the lights in the hallway flickered. She froze mid-stride and looked up, the lights flickered again.

She gaped and took out her pencil, wielding it like a spear. She searched the hallway, up and down. “I’m here!” She called breathlessly, “I’m here.” Her eyes stayed glued on the lights, but they remained shining and motionless. Tiffany gulped and squared her shoulders. When she looked around she saw Lona in the hallway too, she doesn’t look half as amused this time. They don’t so much as nod at each other as Tiffany departed.

I’ll find it first.

Tiffany promised herself she wasn’t going home that night.

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

“But mom,” Tiffany could feel herself whining, “I need to stay the night.” “Not on your life.” Her mom threatened, her curly dark hair tied back and mouth turned into a hard line. “Can’t you be into, I don’t know… boy bands? Hockey? Anything else.” She closed the car doors of the 2007 volkswagen, Tiffany bared her teeth, “do boy bands eat people? No? Unimportant mom! This is important.” Tiffany was suddenly remembering all the reasons she left in the first place.

Her mom grunted and turned the car engine on, “Do you want to get hurt? It’s not a game.” “Hurt?” Her eyes lit up, “So you do believe in the monster!” Tiffany retorted shrilly, “And I’ve been training for this, I’m ready.” Her mom veered out of the parking lot, “The only monster I believe in is my daughter’s ego, and she really needs to place it somewhere else other than bad scary stories.” “You’re making this impossible,” she tried to chastise back and crossed her arms over her chest.

“That’s right, missy, no bothering the motel tonight.” Her mom sniffed loudly and drove them home.

Tiffany pouted and complained the whole way home, she figured this was how all monster hunters were treated, unbelievers were just part of the job. At least, that’s what she told herself as her mom lamented her behaviour later that night on the phone with her dad.

“I just don’t understand, how many horror movies have you been letting her watch?” Her mom paused, as her dad answered. Tiffany hid around the corner and stared at the wall, she had refused to come to dinner that night.

“Yes, Henry,” her mom sounded tired, “But I’m worried your indulgences have let her grow up like one of those undomestic- she’s not a field of wildflowers Henry, she’s a young woman, with a future. Stop it, stop, I don’t want to hear any more of your metaphors. She’s not a clay pot either! Goddamnit, you always do this. All of those self-improvement classes and you can’t listen worth a damn. Don’t start on me.”

They had one of their usual arguments.

Her mother sighed loudly after a few sharp barbs, her voice grew soft and tired, exhausted, “I just don’t know what to do with her.”

She was 19. And apparently no one knew what to do with her.

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

Tiffany had a clunky transistor radio in her lap and the itch of a lumpy blanket wound around her shoulders, they had My Little Pony characters on them from years ago. That was neither here nor there for her in many ways.

The clock by her bedside read 10:47 in bright red letters and Tiffany was hunched over and squinting her eyes in the dark. Her mom would notice if she turned on any lights, even at this hour.

She was certain the older woman was still holding her late night wine and indulging in her stacks of romance novels. Everyone was a paradox in their own ways, but Tiffany doesn’t point that out.

She was busy twisting knobs again. The hush of the radio blared through the air.

“We have a great setlist for you-” “Nobody, nobody, noooboooody-” “I can’t be-” “Sh-” “Ja-”

“Bzz-” She kept twisting.

Some part of her began to sink with each turn, what am I doing? She tried to push the thought down, she knew what she was doing. She knew what she saw all those years ago with her dog and she knew what she wanted now.

She had called it her ‘gap year’ between highschool and college but there was no plan to go to UCLA or San Jose University. She just needed to prove herself this once.

Monster hunters didn’t need to pour over biology textbooks that took her three different rereads to even fully absorb.

“Mountain mam-” “Sex, sex, and-” “Kis-” “Oomph,” “Ssssshhhh.” Tiffany’s hand froze and her muscles tensed, she landed on a chanel, one with strange static blaring over the line: 98.3.

She held her breath and brought the radio up to her ear, “Yes?” She whispered at the speakers and she hoped that her mom was almost done with her wine by now.

“Sssshuck.” Her eyes went wide, “Please.” She didn’t want to beg monsters, but she couldn’t lose this. Tiffany clambered to her feet and shook the radio, “Tell me.” “Sssshuch.” The radio buzzed, almost sing-song, and gave off an eery crunching static, Tiffany exhaled, closing her eyes for a moment, absorbing it. The radio buzzed, she jumped to her feet and reached for her extra-thick socks. She threw off her blanket from her shoulders and yanked on a pair of shorts and button-up shirt.

She didn’t hesitate as she quietly shoved the second story bathroom window open. It was a half mile walk to the motel. She turned the radio off, shoved it in her pack along with her notepad, several pencils and a dull kitchen knife she had carried off days ago from the dining room drawers.

Despite the heat she yanked on her brown bomber jacket and lifted herself out the window. Maybe her mom thought it was too high to jump from, maybe she underestimated how determined Tiffany was.

Maybe the woman was curled up around her ‘Favio x Angela’ novel and was far too gone to try and figure out once again what to do with her daughter.

Tiffany climbed down and started walking.

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

The night was a warm sweet milk around her, cradling her and leaking into her insides like a fiery gas leak, her shirt was almost soaked through by the time she saw Anne’s. The moon was a slice of silver cheese in the sky and the South Dakota sky was a river of sparkling white blemishes against inky black night. It smelled like dry grass and dust.

She breathed in the silver and exhaled warmth, it wasn’t like this in North Cali, but maybe that’s why she came. She took out the kitchen knife, it had a plastic covering and she slipped the weapon into the waistband of her shorts.

It dug into her thigh as she walked, but she ignored it. The monster hunter had warned her about tonight, she knew she had to be here.

Exactly four lights were on Anne’s Motel: the lobby with its vibrant pale yellow light and three windows alight with their soft beige curtains drawn. Tiffany went around the back, walking past rows of low rectangle bushes and spotting a narrow metal door with a red sign over the handle: fire exit. It was supposed to be properly locked but she shook the handle back and forth gently until it clicked in place and she pushed her way in.

They were modernizing Anne’s, but it wasn’t quite there yet.

She squeezed her eyes shut, hands on the handle and bracing herself. You can do this, her ears rang, you have to.

She shouldered her way through the back door and stood in a dark hallway, lit only by silver moonlight at the other end of the long space. She held her breath. It was quiet.

The shadows seemed to play before her eyes, shifting in place and forming ghastly shapes in the dark. She sucked in a breath and pressed herself against the wall, letting the door slide closed behind her.

Nothing moved, no lights flickered. She steadied herself, “hunting,” she took deep breaths and held her chest, “Hunting is all about facing fear.” She edged forward, almost spooking herself as the motion sensors picked up on her movements and blinked on. She had rub her eyes a couple times to adjust to the sudden flood of light.

A flicker of movement arose in the corner of her left eye, “ah!” Tiffany jumped back and rolled to her left, careening to the floor on her knees. Her heartbeat thundered in her ears, but when she looked back up nothing was there. Again.

Tiffany took deep breaths and crept her way toward the east wing of the hotel, something had to be there. It was time, the radio had been buzzing.

The lights stay on.

Her pulse ran ramshackle through her veins and Tiffany practically crawled her way across the motel floors. The plastic knife protector dug deeper into her thigh, but she doesn’t feel it. She edged up to the second floor ice machine room, just outside the east wing, and waited- eyes opened, jaw set, world spinning slightly.

“This is it,” she whispered to herself and began to wait.

She crouched, checking, waiting, eyes strained on the fluorescent lights above and frequently sniffing the air for something. She stays perfectly still, biding her time, waiting, until the lights turn off again, and then flicker, once.

Tiffany’s eyes dart back and forth in the dark, she crept out of the ice machine room and looked up and down the long hallways. She opened her mouth to call out, ask something, prompt something.

She heard a hiss instead, “What are you doing here?” Tiffany flinched and spun around, two half-moon eyes glow in the dark behind her, a growl rumbling in the girl’s voice. Tiffany’s lifted her chin and blinked a couple times, “Oh.” “You shouldn’t be here.” Tiffany’s brow folded in, “My mom works here.” It was probably the best defense she had.

Lona’s eyes were hard and shifting around the room quickly, wildly almost, “Get out of here.” “What, are you ordering me?” Tiffany tried not to sound petulant.

Her hand came down like an iron claw on Tiffany’s shoulder, hard enough to bruise, “Yes.” That’s when the lights flared on like the sun itself had been pulsed into them, flaring to life and filling the whole space in a brilliant glow, Lona widened her stance and drew herself up. A noise like a low buzzing gurgle sounded behind them, quiet and licking at her insides like sandpaper over skin.

“Take my hand.” Lona put her hand out and Tiffany eyed it. The lights flickered above them like a sudden rapid eclipse. “Uh,” Tiffany reached for her pack instead.

“That’s another order,” Lona took an aggressive step forward, the lights flickered quickly above them, fritzing and blinking.

Tiffany gulped, “I’m not,” she tried to summon her courage, “I’m staying.” “Take it or I’m carrying you out, civilian,” Lona growled and Tiffany gave in and slipped her fingers in between Lona’s. Lona gripped them, “Don’t look back.”

They started to run.

The sound grew louder, like a clunking car engine purring through the air, metallic and crunching to the ear, static fuzzed just below the surface of the noise. The lights flickered.

Tiffany looked behind her.

“Ah!” Lona skidded to a halt, painfully squeezing Tiffany’s hand as they came to a jarring stop. Tiffany was still looking behind her, the hallway was painfully alight except for a deep dark nothingness just after the bright fluorescent overhead. Just at the end of the hall, it was too dark to see through.

What was it?

“Excuse me,” A voice said shrilly, “Oh my, I thought I heard some commotion.” Tiffany was dragged back to the other issue at hand: they had been stopped by Mr. Thomas, standing in a bathrobe and eyeing the two of them. Specifically, Mr. Thomas was eyeing Tiffany, standing in the middle of the space with his hands on his hips.

“Honestly.”

Lona drew herself up, “Sir, where is the nearest exit?” “Exit?” Mr. Thomas blanched, “is this young Miss Tiffany’s doing? I promise, any tales she might be spinning are hyped up! Please considering not cutting your stay with us short.” He gave a small, placating smile.

Lona groaned, “Sir, you don’t understand…” She reached for him next, this time with her left hand.

The lights flickered. Lona and Tiffany both instinctively took a step backward. Two of the lights went out behind Mr. Thomas.

Tiffany tried to stutter out, “Mr. Thomas,” she took another step back, “Come toward us. Slowly.”

Mr. Thomas made a face at her, “I’m sorry Tiffany, but this bothering of staff and guests has gone on long enough. No tricks are going to change that. I’m afraid I’ll have to ban you from the motel.” The light directly behind Mr. Thomas went out, a thick tangible darkness sat behind him.

Tiffany’s heartbeat pounded painfully in her ears, move, she commanded herself to move. Reach for him, beg for him.

Instead, she stood with her back to the wall, still holding Lona Davis’s hand like a five-year-old at an amusement park. Tiffany swallowed, “Okay,” she said slowly, “but first you need to-” “Shh,” Lona hushed her and pressed them both firmly up against the wall. “It’s too late.” The last light in the hallway went out. The buzzing crescendoed into an insect-like metallic cry, a song like a garbage disposal, and two perfect round lights came on from behind Mr. Thomas.

Like headlights.

“What in God’s name,” Mr. Thomas turned around as the white lights fell on him.

The headlights blinked and Tiffany took in one horrible twisting vision: a creature with two hooved feet, a massive furry body that took up the whole hall, two dark wings hanging limply off it’s back. She squinted at the face but all she saw was headlights.

And then the headlights tilted up, an enormous mouth opened wide: blunt white teeth gaped and a grey thick tongue snaked out of its giant mouth. Mr. Thomas didn’t even get in a scream before the black lips clamped down. Teeth snapping down as Mr. Thomas’s head was rested from his shoulders.

Tiffany got in a scream though, “Aaaah!” She let out a piercing shrill cry as the blunt teeth chomped through flesh and bone.

Her stomach lurched like the titanic sinking as a grotesque crunch followed, the sound of bone and skull being crushed by huge molars, thick red liquid splattered across the carpet. Tiffany couldn’t move.

“Come on,” Lona stayed true to her promise, grabbed Tiffany around the waist and hoisted her onto her shoulder. Tiffany squeezed her eyes shut as she heard another crunch and Lona carried her down the hall and through the emergency exit.

She had met the monster.

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

The next few hours were a smeared blurr, filled by a sickening headache that made her whole body tremble. The first thing Tiffany did was sag forward and vomit up the dinner she hadn’t eaten.

It was clear and tasted like bile. Tiffany puked again at the sight.

“Let it out,” Lona’s voice was no less hard, but she wasn’t hovering over her at least. Her hands were busy holding a small mechanized crossbow trained on the door and twisting something around her wrist.

Tiffany took deep gasping breaths and tried not to puke a third time.

It was real, it was all real.

She had known, but knowing and seeing were two different things.

Tiffany raked at her shirt, as if were too tight, as if there wasn’t enough air in her lungs. “Here.” There was a tap on her shoulder, she turned as Lona handed her a water bottle, “Drink.” Tiffany greedily downed the entire bottle before gasping for breath again.

“Oh my God,” she started to repeat, “Oh my fucking God.” Lona just snorted, “the first one is always the hardest.”

Tiffany’s head was light and there were spots in her vision, she glanced back toward the emergency exit and wiped her palms down on her shorts. “It, it, Mr. Thomas...” She squeezed her eyes shut before taking a rattling breath, it took another minute to open them again.

She wanted to scream again, she wanted to run back in there, she wanted to turn and run the other direction for miles and miles.

“What now?” She finally rasped out instead. Lona raised her eyebrows, “I assume it disappears again after feeding.”

Tiffany’s face fell, “there was a body for Mr. Koviak.” Lona turned toward her slowly, “perhaps it only eats the head.” She took wobbling a step back from the door, “it’s so much more… it’s so much.” Lona patted her shoulder, “Drink more. This will be over soon.” Tiffany drank a second bottle of water, she turned back to Lona, feeling limp and queasy, “What are you going to do?” She leaned in close, clenching her hands down so they wouldn’t tremble, “How can I help?”

She tried to push down the sight of Mr. Thomas’s limp body falling listlessly to the ground in a splatter of red. She tried to push down the crunch and the flickering lights. I can help, I can help, I can help.

She repeated to herself over and over. I can do something.

The other gnawing voice in her head wasn’t as persistent, but just as loud: your fault.

She finished the water before handing it to Lona, “What can I do?” Lona eyed her up and down. “Go home kid,” she sighed, “Actions over for tonight.” Lona turned to leave, Tiffany’s hand jutted out and grabbed onto her sleeve.

“How old are you?” She asked slowly.

Lona made a face, “How old am I?” “And tell me the truth.” Lona snorted, “I’m 21.” Tiffany let her go, “Then I’m not a kid to you.” Tiffany lifted her chin up, “And I can help.”

Lona tilted her head, “Were you not just in there? Did you not just see that man’s head get bit off? This isn’t a game.” Her tone remained even, but there was fire in her eyes.

Tiffany looked down at her shoes, “please,” she didn’t like the waiver to her voice, “It’s my, my f-fa-” “It’s not your fault,” Lona hand waved her. “Unless you’re a monster with hundreds of teeth of course.” Tiffany pinched herself so she wouldn’t cry, she looked up again, “What is it? What is that thing?” Lona scratched her chin and looked away, “Nothing good.” Tiffany sighed, “Please,” she took a step forward, “Let me help. I knew Mr. Thomas, I know everyone at this motel.” Lona arched her eyebrow up, “you know everyone in here?” She pursed her lips, “Do you… do you have any keys?” Tiffany perked up for the first time that night, “I can get some.” “Ugh,” Lona threaded a hand through her choppy hair, “You can’t come on any of the actual hunts. You hear me? None of this again.” Tiffany nodded vigorously, “I need to avenge him, any way I can.” Lona exhaled through her nose, “I better hope you like books then.” Tiffany shrugged weakly, “Where can I sign?” She looked down and gave a mirthless laugh, “I always wanted to hunt monsters.” Lona almost popped a smile, she put a hand on Tiffany’s shoulder, “Don’t. It only gets harder from here.” “I thought you said the first one’s the hardest?” Tiffany examined Lona in the light of the moon, neither of them were moving back inside yet.

“I lied,” she started to walk, “They’re all hard.” Tiffany wasn’t sure she liked teaming up with a stranger, much less one who would boss her around. But the image of Mr. Thomas’s stark white face being engulfed was too much.

Tiffany shuddered, this really wasn’t just a summer project, it never was.

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

They closed the motel down after that. It made sense, one of the owner’s had just been found headless in the hallways. His sister hadn’t made a comment yet, but it was said she found the body.

Ms. Thomas was a mousy woman in her late fifties, she had iron-grey hair and wore knee-length dresses everywhere and jackets that looked like they were from the 1920s. No one had seen her for days afterward, though Tiffany’s mom made sure to bring her soup every day and leave it at her door.

There were rumors the FBI would be sent in to look for any head-hunting serial killers. But those were just rumors.

There were rumors the Tiffany was there, that the maids were in on it, that the stranger passing through town knew something. Words flew and Tiffany felt a tremor of fear gathering in the small community.

She saw her mom pray at the funeral, get down on her knees and bend her head. There was a slight summer shower coming over the land that day and no one bothered with an umbrella.

They all stood in the light rain and bowed their heads, Tiffany knew her mom had become an atheist a long time ago, but she was muttering verses under her breath as they left. Maybe she thought it was the work of a demon after all, or maybe things like this brought out other sides of people.

Tiffany didn’t say anything at the funeral, just clenched her teeth so tight and wound her mouth shut so firmly that she thought her jaw might shatter like an old wind-up clock. She watched her shoes as she walked, entered, listened, left.

It all felt like something else, happening to some other girl.

She didn’t sleep that night, she hadn’t slept a lot since the night two weeks ago in the motel. I can do something, she repeated it to herself. I came here to do something.

She played with her transistor radio every night and waited.

It was a Wednesday at midday when she finally sought out Lona again, it would be a place to start.

Tina, from her mom’s spin class, knew Sierra, who worked at the local grocers had heard from the cashier that Lona came in every morning for a danish and a coffee. The girl was like clockwork, and better yet, she was still in town.

Tiffany rolled herself out of bed that Wednesday, glanced at the college pamphlets her mom left just outside her door and then brushed her teeth with the force of a steam engine. She didn’t bother with breakfast as she waved at her mom and left for the morning.

They were both out of work at the moment so Tiffany told her she was going to go look for a job- and it was, a job of sorts at least.

Tiffany found the girl in the fresh fruits section examining a shiny red apple, hair was loose and pushed over her right shoulder. She was wearing a navy blue shirt that day and capri jeans that covered most of a bruise on her calf. Tiffany came up behind her and cleared her throat.

“So,” Tiffany made the hunter jump. “When can we catch this horror-terror?” Lona turned and made a face, “Oh.” She paused, “hello again, uh…?” “Tiffany,” she said groughly, “Tiffany Green.” She put her hand out and they take a moment to exchange an awkward handshake.

Lona put one of the apples in her basket, “I’m afraid progress is slow.” She said carefully, backing away, “There’s complications.” Tiffany stepped into Lona’s personal bubble, “Put me to work then.” Lona pushed her hair back and started walking the other direction, “It’s not that simple. I don’t need you yet.” Tiffany followed her down the next aisle.

“Then need me now.” She insisted, “We don’t have all the time in the world, even if the motel is empty right now.” Lona didn’t look back, “We have at least a few more days.” Tiffany frowned deeply, “Take me with you.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Aren’t monster hunters supposed to have backup?” She chased after the other girl’s heels.

Lona arched an eyebrow, “Hunters are supposed to be careful. First and foremost.” Tiffany opened her mouth and then closed it, ‘careful’ was not on her job resume. “Please.” She tried again. “I can’t… the motel can’t stay closed. My mom’s worked there for twelve years. I can help.” Lona wandered her way to a tall silver coffee dispenser and doesn’t say anything as she fills a large canister, Tiffany felt like a lost puppy as she followed her to the cash register.

“Fine,” Lona finally relented as Tiffany trailed her to the parking lot, “You can come back with me.” She said slowly, “there is something we can both do.” Tiffany’s mouth breaks open into a toothy smile she didn’t know she had in her, “You won’t regret it.” Lona just clicked her tongue and made her way to a blue chevy car, “Rule one,” she got in, “listen to what I say.” She just got into the car after her.

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

Books. Tiffany should have anticipated books.

There was a second hotel in Rowing South Dakota, it was a motel 8 with 24-hour service, an outdoor swimming pool, and actual lawn chairs next to it. They were Anne’s main competition.

Tiffany was led through the cramped parking lot all the way to room 108 where Lona took out a set of keys and jangled the door opened. Tiffany glanced at the room momentarily, the curtains were drawn but the scent of sweet wine and something smoky wafted out of the door.

“Come in, come in,” Lona gestured quickly and Tiffany gladly ducked into the AC-blasted room and out of the heat. She turned in each direction, pictures were on the walls, books were open on every surface, there was a crossbow in the corner.

“Wow,” She breathed and milked in every second of it, Lona covered the crossbow with a blanket and pushed a pile of books aside to let Tiffany sit down on a small chair.

“Who knows, maybe a new set of eyes will actually help.” Lona muttered to herself and pushed her hair back- a habit Tiffany was starting to recognize. Tiffany twitched nervously, concentrating wasn’t her strong suit. But this was a monster, this was The Monster and sometimes that was enough to trick her brain into cooperating.

She tapped a rhythm on her legs as Lona firmly closed the door behind them, “SO,” she spoke up, “Are you finally going to tell me what we’re looking for?” Lona didn’t respond right away, opting to walk silently back across the room and take her seat on the single red-quilted bed.

“I don’t know,” Lona said clearly, evenly.

Tiffany leaned forward, “What?” “I don’t know,” Lona repeated and then turned away, she made a soft frustrated sound, “this isn’t what you think it is. These aren’t your mother’s monsters, these aren’t TV monsters.” “Okay?” She puffed her cheeks and drew a little closer, “I’m all ears then. What does that even mean?” Lona met her eye, “maybe there once was, I dunno, perfect vampires and pure weres.” Tiffany studied Lona’s face, as she was hesitating around something, “but?”

“It’s the twenty-first century, monsters change, grow just as the world did, they didn’t stop adapting just because people stopped believing.” “That, yeah, yeah?” Tiffany rubbed her neck, “Yes?” Lona cracked the book open and placed it on her lap, “it’s a hybrid.” She said simply, “I don’t know what it is, because it probably wasn’t bred into this damn world until recently.” She uncapped a highlighter with her teeth, “Damn bastards.” Tiffany blinked a couple times, “hybrid… like?” “A combo, mix, mutt,” Lona highlighted something in her book.

Tiffany looked down at her lap, “Monsters fuck.” She said to herself quietly.

Lona put her palms up in the air, “That is your great take-away?” She looked up sharply, “You can fuck monsters.” Lona rolled her eyes spectacularly, “most only once.” She shook her head, “And you haven’t met a more annoying creature than a vampire-fae or banshee-werecat, hybrids don’t make this fucking easy.” Tiffany gave a sideways sloppy smile, “You really are a monster hunter.” Lona snorted gently, “I thought we established that, yeah.” Tiffany grinned to herself and looked down, “Give me a book.” She gave her a thumbs up, “Let’s figure out which of these things have been doing the nasty.” Lona leaned back, “I’m trying not to regret this.” Tiffany winked, “Try harder.”

She gave a hoarse laugh and Tiffany cracked the spine of an ancient tome that smelled like dust and molding ink. The first picture was of a demon with seven fingers on each hand and a head of fire.

She kept turning.

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

They had a bulletin board. A bulletin board and string and seven questions in scrawling large print. It felt like a 70s cop show and Tiffany was the spunky assistant, spunky and full of potential- as long as she kept herself whole and uneaten of course.

She paced in front of the board, the seven questions were written in fat sharpie marker and read:

How does it move around?

Where does it go?

What can it manipulate? Light? Sound?

Why is it eating just heads?

Mothman?- that one was scratched out and given a little frustrated face next to it.

Why the hotel?

Why Rowing?

They were both looking at it with blurry eyes and a slight headache by 11pm. Tiffany had sent a few hasty texts to her mom saying she was at the movies, her mom seemed to willfully give in to that.

Tiffany stretched and yawned one more time, she glanced back at the board, “What if,” she pointed to number five again, “angry mothman.” Lona groaned, “I told you ten times, it’s not mothman. He doesn’t eat people.” “But what if,” she rested her head on her own shoulder, “it was mothman? Or mothman… saw a sexy subaru and decided to have a little fun.” “Oh my god.” “I’m just saying!” She threw her hands in the air, “it has those headlight eyes.” “Yes,” Lona looked ready to toss her book across the room, “And we still have no idea why.” Tiffany yawned again, “Machine-mothman sex.” “Absolutely not,” Lona massaged the bridge of her nose, “I don’t even want to live in that world.” “Too bad,” she grinned, “I just made that world.” Lona flopped down on the bed, “what’s that you say? You want to offer yourself up the monster as a sacrifice? Virgin sacrifice? That’s very noble and bold of you.” Tiffany stuck her tongue out at her, “Hey, I’m coming up with ideas over here.” She fidgeted in place, “an’ m’ not a virgin.” She mumbled. Lona chuckled, “You know I have a lie detector-rune, right?” Tiffany’s eyes went wide, “Really?” She almost stammered. Lona tossed her head back and laughed, “No.” “Ugh,” Tiffany picked up one of the nearby dislodged motel pillows and threw it at her, “bad people get eaten by monsters you know.”

Lona sighed, “everybody gets eaten by monsters. That’s how it is.” Tiffany looked up at the ceiling and listened to the AC blast, “Maybe…” She mumbled, “It’s a weremoth-car hybrid?” Lona gave her a tired look, she shrugged, “turn to ‘were’s’ in that book over there.” Tiffany spun around in her chair, “Really?” “Not the car part, no,” Lona sniffed, “But we have to figure out the timing in between feedings, figure out something, anything.” Tiffany frowned, “Do we know if it’s feeding or not?”

Lona hung her head, “No. We don’t.” She rolled over and pointed at newspaper and book clippings, “We know there were cults in the hotel.” “For one night.” “And a burial ground.” “Ten miles away.” Lona closed her eyes and sighed, “what about a weremoth again?”

She grinned, “On it.” Lona trudged over and looked over her shoulder as she read, poured over the words, the symbols, any of it, all of it. Tiffany glanced at her several times and wondered, not for the first time, where she came from. And where she was going after this.

They kept flipping through books.

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

Night three approached like a bad hangover: thirst, headaches, and staring at nothing for a few hours straight. Her mom was starting to ask where she kept going, there were only so many movies out and she apparently didn’t buy the new ‘I made a friend’ excuse.

But Tiffany was 19, she was allowed out of the house. And into the motel 8 room 108.

Tiffany was lying on Lona’s bed, back resting against the headboard, and transistor radio back in her lap. Lona was in the corner furiously flipping through yet another book, this one titled: The Supernatural of North America, volume Five.

She was growling, “no glowing eyes, no winged creatures with glowing eyes. No head eating!” She spilled the book onto the floor, “Useless.” Tiffany kept her eyes down and responded in a monotone, “Don’t give up yet.”

Lona angrily got to her feet and started to pace, “So useless. There’s nothing here, we might as well name it ourselves.” Tiffany’s mouth twitched, “The Lona-saurus.” “Yeah, why not.” Tiffany laughed, looking up, “Lona-terror.” She shook her head, “Don’t you want it named after you?” She grinned, “No.” she tilted her head to the side, “Though I do have a question for Lona-Human.”

Lona paused and raised an eyebrow, “Yeah?”

“I’ve been thinking,” Tiffany kept fiddling with the dials and glancing around the room. “How did you get into this business anyway?” Lona glanced over her shoulder, “I told you earlier. That’s confidential. You shouldn’t know about all of this,” she was murmuring now, “How am I going to explain any of this?” Tiffany frowned, “To who?” Lona turned on her heels and kept pacing, “No one.”

Tiffany groaned and kept flipping through her channels. “Jesus lov-” “Shuckin-” “Pi-” “Shh-” “Ki-” “Would you stop that?” Lona crawled onto the bed with her, “I don’t know how much time we have left and it’s distracting.” “Shush,” Tiffany suddenly sat upright in bed as she found the chanel again: 98.3. It was dead quiet. “Here it is.” The quiet stretched on and Lona reached to take the radio from her, “Knock it off.” Tiffany rolled away from her.

“Listen!”

As if on queue, the static blared to life.

“Oh shit!” Tiffany shook the radio in midair, “There is it.” Lona raised an eyebrow, “What is it?” Tiffany glanced up, “this is the chanel,” she bit her bottom lip, “The monster channel,” she whispered it and glanced at the door just in case.

Lona scooted closer to her, “Well it sounds like you’re getting bad reception,” she didn’t seem particularly impressed. “Here. It’s probably a blocked chanel.” Lona reached for something in her pocket, holding the object with her right hand and bringing it to her lips. She seemed to whisper to it and then spit on the surface. Tiffany wrinkled her nose at that, but noted closely as the other girl placed a shiny metal rock on top of the radio.

“Turn the dial now,” Lona commanded, Tiffany reluctantly complied.

“I’m telling you, it doesn’t get any clearer than-” She turned the dial and voices immediately began pouring in through the speakers, chanting, singing, wild and strange. Tiffany’s breath caught in her throat.

“Sanguis Bibimus. Corpus Edimus. Sanguis Bibimus. Corpus Edimus. Tolle Corpus Satani! Ave!” Unmistakable gibberish came over the speakers with a grating metal sound in the background, unmistakably dark, unmistakably powerful. The hairs on her arm stood on end, demonic.

Lona stood up immediately, “Of course,” she reached for her duffel bag, “Of fucking course.” Tiffany bounced to her feet, radio still in hand, “What, what is it?” The demonic chanting continued. “Stay here, turn that off,” Lona ordered, “I have to hurry.” Tiffany grabbed her wrist before she could dart away, “What’s going on,” she shoved herself into Lona’s face, “You owe me that much.” Lona struggled with something for a moment before opening and closing her mouth, “Do you remember what the monster looked like?” “Yeah,” Tiffany shuddered, “glowing eyes, wings, huge ass mouth.” “Remember the teeth?”

Tiffany squinted, “I… don’t think I can forget.” “They were blunt,” Lona shouldered her way toward the door, “This isn’t a carnivore, someone else is doing this, that channel… it must be going through the whole town.” Tiffany followed after her, “You’re not stopping me from coming with.” Lona tugged at her hair, “I don’t have time for this.”

“Then don’t fight it.” Tiffany reached out, “I can come with you now or hitch hike there, I’m not staying.” Lona pinched her lips together, glaring and wrestling with something. They stare off for a long minute, finally, Lona stepped aside and Tiffany climbed into the car with her.

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

“Rule number one,” Lona was speeding down the city central road like she wanted to leave skid marks on it, “Don’t come in.” “No.” “Rule number two,” Lona growled, “Stay away from the monster.” “I mean, I’ll try,” Tiffany could feeling her blood pumping through her ears, I’m not going to freeze up this time. She made herself a promise.

“Rule three,” Lona swerved into the parking lot, her face a placid sheet of determination, “if I say run, then you run.” Tiffany nodded, “I can do that.” Her hands trembled slightly, she balled them up and met Lona’s eyes, “I can do that.” Lona’s face slipped into a small smile as they pulled into the parking lot, “And if you can’t run…” She handed her a small pointed cross, “Fight like hell.”

Tiffany smiled back as she took the pointed cross, “Is this for demons then?” Lona kicked her door open and took out her crossbow, “We’re about to find out.” Tiffany edged out of the car and ran after her.

Tiffany watched Lona’s long hair swing back and forth as they strode toward the hotel, no lights were on, it stood quiet and empty. She nursed a growing nausea in her gut at the sight, nerves burning through her system and forcing her feet to follow Lona anyway.

“Lona,” Tiffany chased her heels, “I’ve got your back.” Lona snorted and looked over her shoulder, “I am going to be in so much trouble for bringing a civilian into this.” She pushed her dark hair back, “Is there anything I can say to get you to turn around?” Tiffany drew herself up, “Not on your life. Now,” she cracked her knuckles, “Lemme get us in.” Tiffany found the back door and carefully jiggled it open, she could feel them both holding their breath. Hybrids, she was still wrapping her mind around it.

This wasn’t the movie monsters, it wasn’t even the white-limbed forest walker she was certain ate her dog all those years ago. This was the real deal.

She doesn’t have time to process what this would mean, she cracked the door open and a buzz sizzled through the air. Their eyes both went wide, Lona darted in first, crossbow out, Tiffany pushed her way in after before Lona can lock her out.

The door shuts softly behind them and the lights flicker softly overhead, Lona crouched down and Tiffany stood in place. The yellow wallpaper and green carpet suddenly seemed like a funeral walk, she looked down the narrow space and looked for something.

Lona grabbed her wrist and forced her up against the wall, “Don’t just stand there.” She hissed and placed Tiffany in the corner. “Careful.”

They crept down the long corridor and the echoes of demonic chanting reverberated through Tiffany’s headspace, remembering the sound of ghoulish voices calling across the radio.

You knew there would be dangers, she reminded herself, you knew it wouldn’t be easy.

The lights flickered and Tiffany looked in all directions, waiting for teeth or shadows or giant wings that swept them all away. She tensed her muscles and crept after Lona, keeping her back to the wall, the lights flickered.

It’s quiet, but Tiffany swore she heard the sound of distant buzzing, metallic and crunching.

“I don’t like this,” Lona murmured, “We needed more… more time. More information.” She heard her take a deep breath.

Tiffany clenched her teeth, they hadn’t figured out what the chanting even meant. “It’s coming,” she said, “We have to stop it.”

Lona nodded back, “Keep your eyes open, we don’t know when or where-” “Aaah!” A shriek shattered the air, gut-wrenching and sharp. They share a look, then they are running. Tiffany flung herself toward the cry, focusing on pumping each leg forward and keeping in motion, they followed it toward the second story.

They crashed into the fire escape door and sprinted up the flight of stairs, it was east wing.

“You took him,” a wobbling voice cried, “You took him, devil, bastard.” It was a desperate, watery wail.

Lona burst the upstairs door open, the hall was dark, dark and breathless and a pair of eyes are blaring like two white perfect headlamps. Tiffany blinked a couple times until she could see more clearly.

Ms. Thomas was holding up a fire-poker and brandishing it back and forth like a sword. Maybe she had come for vengeance too.

For a moment Tiffany’s breath is taken away, the creature loomed at the end of the hall. Eyes like flashlights, a buzzing emanating off of its body. It’s massive mouth was a slit across it’s lower face, she could make out two fuzzy atena hanging down above it this time.

It’s massive furry body filled the space and blunt white teeth were just visible in the dark.

Ms. Eve Thomas held up her poker, “stay back.”

The creature lumbered forward undeterred, but Tiffany was moving before she could question it, question anything. Ms. Thomas stabbed up at it’s open gaping maw. Tiffany lunged first, tackling her to the ground and falling head over heels into the wall as the creature’s mouth came down over nothing.

An arrow whizzed above them and a solid thunk carried through the air, Tiffany looked up to see the end of the projectile lodged into the creature’s right shoulder. The creature stumbled in place and took a moment to touch the black arrow embedded into its flesh, fresh black blood oozing out.

It threw its head back and opened its mouth wide.

A buzzing insectoid noise lept from it’s throat, Tiffany reached to cover her ears but Lona was yelling at them. “Move,” she yelled and let loose another crossbow arrow. This one just barely grazed the creatures left leg and left a trail of blood spilling onto the carpet.

The creature stumbled forward, saddling up alongside them, it’s thick arms reaching out wildly and grasping in the dark, Tiffany could smell it’s musk, hear it’s labored breaths.

Tiffany pushed Ms. Thomas forward, “Run!” She yelled, “run goddammit.” Ms. Thomas scrambled forward, reaching for Lona, but Tiffany paused, there was something on the ground, something behind them. It was a thin strip of white paper, black ink was scrawled vertically along it.

The paper lead down the hall and up the creatures back, up and up, Tiffany followed it with her eyes. She licked her lips, “Lona,” she said slowly, eyes not leaving the paper, “I’m breaking rule number two.” “No you’re fucking not.” Lona called, trying to reload another arrow just as the monster lurched toward her, slow, but deadly with it’s thick grey tongue lashing out.

“Huh,” Tiffany grunted and sprung to her feet, it’s headlamp eyes turned toward her, hitting her directly in the face, neck turning like an owl’s. Tiffany threw herself on it’s massive furry body and climbed.

The grating buzzing noise boomed, Tiffany flinched but managed to dive for the paper tied around the creatures neck. It was arranged like a noose, tied and scrawled with inky dark unreadable letters.

The creatures hands thrashed at her, Tiffany kicked at it’s claws and latched her hands onto the paper. The moment she grabbed the scroll a fiery burn bloomed in her flesh that sparked all the way to her elbow, burning and bleeding into her skin. “Agh,” she screamed and let go, luckily, she slammed into the wall instead of into the creatures enormous mouth and searching tongue. Pain burst from her head and hands, she hit the wall and slid limply to floor.

Her vision blurred and tilted, but voices were yelling, calling, she feably pushed up and fumbled back to her feet, the world was a rush of nonsense sound and light. A hand thrust out and grabbed her shoulder, yanking her out of the way as a row of blunt snapping teeth descended.

Tiffany is pulled to safety for a second time.

“Thanks,” she said weakly as Lona crashed them into the nearest wall and out of the way.

Lona’s eyes didn’t leave the monster, “What the hell was that?” Tiffany glanced down at her burned hands, headlamp eyes were sweeping toward them once more, “You’re right,” Tiffany reached for her pocket, “I don’t think it wants to do this.” Lona pushed them back again, “We need to retreat, regroup-” “Hey Lona,” she thought of Mr. Thomas, his face pale and mouth open as the teeth closed in around him. “If anything happens,” she took a deep breath, “Don’t tell my mom I died doing something stupid after all.” Lona’s hand was firm across her shoulder, “Don’t you da-” She wiggled free by jumping out of her brown bomber jacket, she slid smoothly forward and jammed herself directly into the monster’s path. The headlights blind her for a moment, but she jumped up this time, leaping blindly just as the creature lunged to take her head off. She wound her arms around its neck as it bent down.

A thick grey tongue licked at her leg, but she kicked and grabbed at the paper noose tied firmly around its neck. She cringed at the searing burn in her right hand, but drew the sharpened cross up and sliced at the paper. Tiffany prepared herself to have to saw and tear away, but the paper broke like wet tissue paper against the press of the holy object, it smoked gently and fell away.

A deafening screech followed and her whole world tremored.

Tiffany was falling again, falling and falling, just as a pair of hands collided into her back, stopping her head from cracking against the hard floor. Lona had dove for her as she fell away from the beast.

The creature screeched again, it’s voice insectoid but losing it’s inhumane metallic clang. Lona started to pull, “The door,” she yelled and started tearing away, “We need to get the door.”

Tiffany barely remembered stumbling and sweating her way down the stairs and back to the first story, her hands screaming in pain and head spinning. Lona shepherded them toward the fire exit just as the creature rammed itself into walls and ceiling, knocked out the lights as it flew rapidly in all directions.

The emergency exit peeled open and they threw themselves out. Tiffany gasped for air, Lona pushing her out of the way just as a huge furry body burst out behind them.

The summer air was somehow cooler on her flushed skin and she swayed in place, the fight leaving her battered body, but she couldn’t let her eyes close, she stayed in place, transfixed.

The shadows melted off the enormous humanoid beast, the dark blacks fading into a sharp silver, it’s wings extending, grey and covered in spotted intricate markings. It’s headlamp eyes shun in the night and it’s antena extended.

It was a light grey now, sparkling almost, wings massive and whumping in the night.

“Oh,” Tiffany stepped back, “ Oh fuck.” Lona kept her hands around her, she chuckled, “Huh,” she said simply, “A fairy creature.” Later, Lona would call it a ‘will-o-wisp’ mated with a moth beast, a lost mutt fairy creature.

It’s movements were quick and decisive, slightly lopsided and presumably still wounded, it sped into the horizon. It’s silverback disappeared into the trees, the buzzing and screeching following it and the world fell quiet and still.

“Will it,” Tiffany felt her tingling limbs to make sure they were all still there, “Will it eat any more people? Should we go after it?” Lona’s eyes trailed down to Tiffany’s raw red hands, she shook her head, “Someone was controlling it. With those chants and that leash,” their eyes meet, “it should be safe now.” Tiffany exhaled, “Who would do that?” Lona shrugged, “There are plenty of bad people in this world.” She pushed Tiffany’s blonde hair back from her sweaty face, “don’t worry about it.” Tiffany slumped down, “There you go again. With orders.” She chuckled and sat gasping in the light of the descending moon, “You’ll notice I’m not very good with those.” Lona collapsed down next to her, “well thanks for not dying at least.” Tiffany shot her a slow smile, “Thanks for letting me almost not-not-die.” Lona chuckled, “please don’t thank me civilian. This isn’t what we’re supposed to do.”

“Okay,” Tiffany’s head lulled to the side, falling onto Lona’s shoulder, “you’re welcome then.”

Lona put her head down too, “That was stupidly brave, there.” She sighed, closing her eyes, her voice becomes lower, small even, “Don’t become a monster hunter Tiffany, please.” There was something unsettling soft in her tone.

Tiffany closed her eyes too, “Too late.” They stay there for a very long moment, contemplating their own mortality, burns, and various fly-away feelings seeping into tired bones.

Lona was gone in the morning.

Tiffany torched all of her college pamphlets on the burner, bandaged her hands, wrote a note to her mother, and followed after.

FIN

[ghoulangerlee]

jerevin but it's like... jeremy can't believe half the things that come out of gavin's mouth. like sometimes he says things and it makes no sense but jeremy's here loving his bf regardless

Now with an AO3 link for archiving purposes

star, you are a genius. this ties in beautifully with something I was talking about with a friend earlier so thank them for giving me creative outlet to Create this. also that phenomenal emotional support cowboy art had a hand in this too.

now tell me if you’ve heard this before. fahc jerevin pining and misunderstandings. got your attention? nice. 

(jeremy’s sort of worried that gavin’s pulling his leg; after all, the golden boy wanting to date someone like him?) 

also, my ko-fi link if you liked this and wanna support me

                                                           ====

“Hi there, I’m here to bail the one in the purple and orange out,” A friendly voice says, and Jeremy startles, glancing up from where he’d been counting the gouges in the ratty cement wall of his cell, to see a man standing by the front desk, training a thousand watt smile towards the cop sitting there. 

Of course, it’s the Vagabond–not that Jeremy’s ever seen him out of his mask (barring this very moment), but he knows that voice. 

Not that he says anything, not until he’s been released and he’s pulling the ridiculous white cowboy hat back onto his head as they walk out of the LSPD station, “Geoff sent you to bail me out?” he asks, trying to keep his voice casual, trying not to show fear, because he’d fucked up, gotten caught and if Geoff had bailed him out, then he was probably angry. 

“Nah,” the Vagabond says, shoving his hands into his pockets–he’s wearing a soft hoodie and horrific dad jeans and Jeremy wonders if that’s part of his cover. “Gavin did. Came to me and said ‘Ryan, I need you to go bail Jeremy out, Ryan.’” he said pitching his voice squeaky, intoning a bad British accent, “‘He’s my emotional support cowboy and I need him, Ryan.’”  

Though shocked, Jeremy has enough sense to notice the fondness in Ryan’s voice, the way he rolls his eyes even though he doesn’t seem all too mad. “He said that?” he asks lightly. 

“Yeah,” Ryan says, “And since I’m the only one the LSPD hasn’t seen, thus, I can bail you out with no issue, Gavin asked me to come.” 

Jeremy, still reeling by the revelation that of all people, the Golden Boy paid to bail him out, nearly stumbles into a trash can. “Wait,” he says suddenly, stopping, “What the fuck is an emotional support cowboy?” 

==

“There you are!” Gavin says happily the second he steps into Geoff’s penthouse with Ryan, throwing his arms around Jeremy’s neck and knocking his hat askew, “My lovely cowboy,” he croons, grinning at him. 

Jeremy has to bite back the urge to wrap his arms around Gavin, because, while he’d only been with the crew for a few weeks now; he’s had this stupid and terrible thing for one of the LSPD’s most wanted criminals for over a year now. 

(Which, funnily enough, started out as an almost hero worship type thing where Jeremy, younger, stupider Jeremy had wanted to be like the Golden Boy, but now, older and still slightly stupid Jeremy just wants to be with the Golden Boy.) 

“Hey Gav,” he finally manages, weakly, hoping he can pass the flush of his skin off to the heat of the day or the fact he’d spent the past few days in jail, “What’d you call me?” 

Gavin just grins wider, finally pulling away and tipping his hat back down properly, “My cowboy,” he says again. “Michael’s my boi but you’re my cowboy.” 

(And Jeremy tries to ignore the slight twist in his chest, of course, Gavin’s the type who’d come up with a dumb nickname for his crew members.) 

“Right,” Jeremy says, slowly, “You do realize I’m from the North East, right?” 

Gavin just hums, uses two fingers to push Jeremy’s hat down further over his face, “You wear a cowboy hat, love,” he teases, and before Jeremy can unpack that, Gavin’s bounding away deeper into the penthouse, yelling out Geoff’s name. 

“That was weird,” Jeremy says to Ryan, who’d been watching the whole thing with nothing but amusement. “Also you,” he rounds on the other man, eager to change the subject, “What the fuck is up with your face?” 

Ryan raises an eyebrow at Jeremy, “Uh huh, wanna elaborate?” 

Jeremy waves a hand at Ryan’s everything, “You look like a normal dude.” 

“Oh,” Ryan says, “Normal dude,” he repeats. “What, you thought I was the Vagabond 24/7?” 

Jeremy blinks, very slowly, deliberately, like Ryan is stupid, because maybe, just maybe, Ryan is the stupid one here, “Well, kinda seemed that way when you skulk around here with a mask and a leather jacket all the time.” 

Ryan laughs, actually throws his head back and laughs, hand coming out to grasp Jeremy’s shoulder as if he needs the anchor to keep himself upright, “Jeremy,” he manages out between bits of laughter, “Oh Jeremy. Gavin trusts you.” he says, as if that makes any sense to Jeremy, who feels like his whole world’s gone upside down. 

“Right,” Jeremy, says, “Okay. Sure. Thanks? I guess? For showing me your face. Now I won’t freak out next time some weirdo off the street walks into the police station to bail me out.” 

Ryan just squeezes his shoulder before letting go, “Gavin wouldn’t have sent some weirdo to bail you out,” he says mysteriously, before heading further into the penthouse, effectively cutting all conversation. 

“Right,” Jeremy says to himself.

==

“Cowboy,” A smooth, voice croons close to Jeremy’s ear, making the poor guy jump and whirl around, gun pressed just between the open collar of Gavin’s stupid shirt, “Oh love, are you that happy to see me?” 

Jeremy swears, nearly drops the gun in his haste to pull it away, “Gavin,” he says. “Don’t sneak up on me like that!?” 

Gavin just smiles, tilts his head, “You wouldn’t have shot me,” he says, matter of fact, and Jeremy almost admires him for his trust, if he weren’t a fucking idiot. 

“Right,” Jeremy says, pushing the safety back on his gun before placing it down on the table behind him, “Did you need me for something?” he asks, confused as to why Gavin of all people would seek him out. “A job?” 

Gavin hums, moving around Jeremy to grab the white cowboy hat off the table, “Somewhat,” he says, reaching out and placing it on Jeremy’s head, humming again, this one sounding more pleased. “You really do make a good cowboy, Jeremy.” 

Jeremy snorts, half shoves Gavin out of the way, “I’m from the North East, and I’ve never ridden a horse in my life.” 

Gavin mutters something that suspiciously sounds like ‘save a horse and ride a cowboy’, but Jeremy chooses to ignore it. “Jeremy,” Gavin says, serious, “I know you’re not a cowboy, but I’ve got your attention now, don’t I?” 

Jeremy stops, splutters, stutters out a, “Wait, what!?” and then he narrows his eyes, “What are you talking about?” 

A sigh, heavy and a bit weary, Gavin mutters out an I’m too sober for this, before plastering on a big smile, “Jeremy, I wanna take you out on a date, Jeremy.” 

He laughs, arms wrapped around his belly, half bent over laugh that has him unsteady on his feet, “Oh my god,” he says. “What a good joke, Gav.” he stops though, when he sees the look on Gavin’s face, something serious, “Gav?” he asks. 

“I’m serious, Jeremy,” Gavin says, “I want to take you out on a proper date.” 

He opens his mouth, closes it, repeats the action several times and then, “I’m not that easy, Gavin.” Jeremy finally says. “You’ll have to try harder than that.” 

The serious look is replaced by something new, something determined and Gavin grins, the same sort of grin he gives to sleazy targets, or people he’s talking to at a bar after he’s had a few drinks, “Try harder, huh?” he asks. “Sure thing, Jeremy!” he says, happily, hooking an arm through Jeremy’s, “Come now, let’s go. Geoff’s got a job for us.” 

==

There’s a sharp knock at his front door several days later and Jeremy squints, standing up from the couch, he’s got at least one knife on him if things go south, but the likelihood of someone trying to gut him here is low, he thinks as he takes a moment to peer out of the peephole, pulling back and rolling his eyes, “Gavin,” he says, opening the door. “Surprised to see you out in these parts.” 

Gavin’s grinning, wearing a vest of all things, over a black, long sleeved button up and nice slacks, there’s no obnoxious jewelry and his hair is sort of tamed, “Hello Jeremy,” he says, bouncing on his toes, “Go get dressed, Jeremy,” he continues, and like everything else he does, he pushes his way passed Jeremy, shoving a half of a dozen of roses into his arms as he steps into Jeremy’s apartment. “We’re going to dinner, Jeremy!” 

It takes a couple of minutes for Jeremy’s brain to catch up, the scent of roses strong in his nose, “What?” he asks, “Dinner?” he squints at Gavin, who’s now standing over by his couch, tapping his foot. “Gavin, if you wanted to grab dinner, you could have texted or something.” 

Gavin just huffs, crosses his arms for a moment before letting them drop down to his sides, “Please, Jeremy?” he asks. 

Jeremy takes one look at the flowers in his arms and then at Gavin and the fight leaves his body, “Let me go put these in some water and then I’ll get dressed, buddy,” he says softly. 

Gavin’s smile is bright and Jeremy’s stomach flutters helplessly and not because of hunger. 

== 

“I had a lovely time tonight, Jeremy,” Gavin says as they take the stairs up to Jeremy’s third floor apartment, surprisingly the gentleman, as he opens the door to the stairwell. 

Jeremy, surprising himself, had a great time as well, and Gavin beams when he says as much, stopping at his door, “Do you wanna come in?” he asks, because it’s been a while for him and while he doesn’t want to get his hopes up, he’s pretty sure this is a date. 

Gavin hums softly, “Not tonight, Cowboy,” he murmurs, stepping close to Jeremy. “Not after the first date,” he whispers, looking down at Jeremy with something serious in his eyes, “Not with you,” he adds and Jeremy can see the slight flush on his cheeks. 

“Gav…” Jeremy whispers back, and then, Gavin’s lips are pressed lightly to Jeremy’s and Jeremy makes a sort of noise in his throat that he’ll vehemently deny later, but has Gavin pulling away with a little smile. 

They stand there, and for a moment, Jeremy thinks Gavin’s going to kiss him again, but instead, he just makes a sort of shooing motion, “Go on, open your door, Jeremy. Let me see you off like a proper gentleman.” 

He sort of laughs then, a soft, fond little huff, “Right,” he says, shaking his head. “Gentleman Gavvy Free,” he teases, turning to unlock his door, stepping into the doorway once he’s got it open, “You’ve seen me off, kind sir.” 

Gavin grins, stepping close and pressing a kiss to his cheek this time, “Good night, Jeremy,” he murmurs. “I’ll text you next time.” 

==

Next time, turns out to be a week or so later, after several long jobs and setups for various smaller scale heists, Jeremy’s still feeling some extra energy from the latest job he’d been on with Ryan, so when Gavin texts him the name of a movie theater, he fires back asking for a rain check. 

The answer doesn’t come right away, but soon, there’s the address to a gas station (he finds out when he looks it up, somewhere just inside the outer edges of the Fakes’ territory) and a time, ‘ill bring the guns, you just wear a mask and your hat, cowboy’ comes shortly after, followed by several heart emojis of different colors. 

Jeremy exhales loudly, dropping down onto his couch as he stares at his phone, wondering what he’s gotten himself into. 

== 

Jeremy forgets his mask, by accident, of course, but also because it doesn’t quite fit along with the hat, and as much as he’s confused by it, he really likes Gavin calling him cowboy. 

Not that Gavin seems to be disappointed by the lack of mask, in fact, he just grins wide and moves close to him once they’re hidden by the shadows of the alley, and at first, Jeremy thinks Gavin’s going to kiss him, but he doesn’t, instead, he presses a shotgun into his hands, “Let’s go get ‘em, Cowboy,” he murmurs in his space. 

A nod, slow, and as the adrenaline sets in, Jeremy feels the urge to grab Gavin close and kiss him, but he doesn’t instead, he focuses on the task, lets Gavin take the lead as they step into the store. 

The robbery happens quick, a small store like that doesn’t have much money, but Gavin takes his time picking through the meager alcohol collection before choosing some cheap bottle of gas station wine, even as the sound of police sirens get louder. 

“Ready to run, love?” Gavin asks, looking over at Jeremy and Jeremy grins, tightening his grip on the bag of money. 

=

It takes about three hours, one in which they spent crouched behind several trashcans in a residential area, but they finally make it back to Jeremy’s apartment complex without any police tails. 

Gavin hands him half of the money as well as the rest of the cheap wine as they stand by Jeremy’s door, “I had tons of fun, love,” he says, and then he’s leaning in, pressing a slightly off center kiss to his mouth before pulling away. “Unlock your door, yeah? Just like last time,” he urges. 

And just like last time, Gavin kisses his cheek and sees him off properly. 

==

“I heard you and Gavin went on a little robbery last night,” Geoff says the next day, sitting across from him at the conference room’s table. 

Jeremy hums, waving him off, studying a map of the airport. 

“It was a date,” Michael says, and something about the way he says date has Jeremy freezing. 

Something about the way Geoff says Oh has Jeremy tensing and looking up from the map, both Geoff and Michael are looking at him now, as if they’re studying him. 

And Jeremy, Jeremy wants to say something but finds himself frozen, frozen all to hell and suddenly he feels stupid because of course they haven’t been real dates, of course it’s been Gavin fucking with him. Of fucking course. 

Jack walks in just then, breaking Michael and Geoff’s concentration and Jeremy sinks down into his chair, hoping the map in front of him is enough to distract himself from his rapidly breaking heart. 

==

Like any good man, Jeremy does the only acceptable thing in this situation, he avoids Gavin and ignores his text messages. 

Because he knows now, this is some shitty initiation. Gavin’s been tasked to mess around, to haze the new guy. 

Of course. 

As if Jeremy could ever get so lucky as to have Gavin be genuinely interested in him.  

==

Unfortunately for Jeremy, divine intervention comes in the form of a Ryan Haywood knocking at his apartment door at eight PM exactly, looking like a fucking washed up Abercrombie model. 

“Jeremy,” He says very seriously after he’d let himself in and helped himself to the donuts Jeremy had gotten earlier to eat and wallow in his own self pity. “Jeremy, you and I need to talk.” 

Jeremy sighs, goes over to the couch and downs the rest of his beer, sinking into the cushions like a chastised child. 

“Jeremy, I think there’s some misunderstanding here, and I’m here to clear it up because you are an idiot, and so is Gavin.” Ryan says as he picks his way though a boston cream filled doughnut. “Which is fine when you’re together, because that means you two cancel each other out, but when you’re separate, you two reek of idiot and shitty communication.” 

“Ryan, I don’t mean to be blunt, but do you have a point?” Jeremy asks, wincing at how whiny his voice sounds. 

Ryan glares over at him, “Shush you,” he says. “You don’t get to talk because you’re being an idiot.” He polishes off the rest of the doughnut and Jeremy wonders how Ryan hasn’t gained at least twelve pounds (like Jeremy did, just ordering the donuts.) “Gavin trusts you,” he continues cryptically, “Gavin’s trust isn’t lightly earned, either.” 

Jeremy watches as Ryan, finished with the donuts, pulls a chair from the dining table and places it in the living room, sitting on it so he can fix Jeremy with a look. 

“Gavin also likes you,” Ryan says. “Which has absolutely nothing to do with trust, but I’m trying to hammer the point home that you’re hurting him by ignoring him. And if you keep doing it, you’re going to lose his trust and then we’re going to stop trusting you to do things.” He leans forward, looking serious, “I’m not saying that your position on the crew depends on whether or not you date Gavin, but it depends on whether or not you trust him.” He pauses to let the words sink in, “If you can’t trust that his actions are sincere in your personal lives, then how can you trust that he’ll have your back during a job.” 

Rightfully, Ryan doesn’t give Jeremy a chance to speak, because, as Jeremy’s learned within the last few minutes, he hasn’t earned the right quite yet. 

“I’ve spoken with Gavin too, so don’t think you’re special. Because clearly, when Gavin picked you for the crew, he picked you from the same idiot barn he hails from.” Ryan’s on a roll now, and Jeremy’s sure there’ll be several more insults that spill from his lips within the next few minutes, so he just sits back and let’s Ryan wind himself up. 

“I told him to stop being so cryptic, that he should just tell you,” Ryan continues, pitching his voice louder, like he knows that Jeremy’s only half paying attention to him, “But Ryan, what if he thinks I’m doing it coz I feel sorry for him, Ryan,” he says, mocking Gavin, “I don’t wanna lose him, Ryan,” he stops suddenly, shoulders dropping as he sighs. “Look, Jeremy,” he says. “If you don’t have feelings for Gavin, that’s fine. But I feel like you do, and if they’re anything like the feelings I know Gavin has for you, then you should just talk to him.” He finishes, and then, “Please.” 

Jeremy swallows heavily, “Right, yeah,” he says and feels a sort of itching under his skin, digs his fingers into his jeans, feeling the shape of his phone in his pocket, “Hey, Ryan?” he asks, and when Ryan tilts his head, he exhales, “Look, I don’t want to be a dick but uh. Leave? Thank you for the talk, but there’s something I need to uh. Take care of.” 

Ryan gets this look on his face and stands up from the chair, taking it back over to the table, “Jack owes me money,” he says, mostly to himself, and then he grabs the box of donuts from the counter, “I’m taking these as payment.” 

Jeremy waves him away, “Sure, sure, I paid the troll toll,” he says as he types out a gavin im a fucking idiot please come over and sends it (first to Geoff, by accident, because his hands are shaking a bit too much) and then to Gavin, who thankfully doesn’t send him a laughing emoji like Geoff, but instead, sends back an ok that has the nerves in his stomach doing some sort of riverdance. 

==

Gavin looks hesitant when he shows up only twenty minutes later and Jeremy’s immediately pulling him into the apartment, “We’re both stupid,” he say, apropos to nothing and then he’s leaning forward and kissing Gavin firm on the lips. 

(And thankfully, Gavin kisses back right away and Jeremy gets to wrap his arms around Gavin and hold him.) 

==

Jeremy groans as he’s shoved face first into the hood of an LSPD car, forehead bouncing off the metal. 

“Excuse me,” Jeremy hears, “That’s my emotional support cowboy,” and then there’s the heavy weight of a dead body against his back for a moment before Gavin’s there, helping him stand properly. 

“Really, Gav?” He asks weakly, sure the cut on his forehead is bleeding worse now, and Gavin just beams at him from behind those ridiculous sunglasses of his, looking as stupidly gorgeous as ever. 

[sae-bae-ran]

hi~ first off i love your works, second could you maybe do a RFA+Saeran+Vanderwood scenario where they find out that MC is depressed/self harms? I’m going through stuff and I’d like to imagine what they would do to help me feel better.. Again love your stuff!

Thank you so much for your kind words! I’m happy to hear you love my writing! ^^

I want you to know that I’m always here if you need to talk to someone! Sometimes talking to someone you don’t know well can help a lot. You’re not alone, never forget that!

Masterlist || Ko-fi

RFA + Saeran and Vanderwood reacting to an MC who is depressed/self-harms

As the title suggests, this post will address sensitive subjects, so read at your own discretion.

Hyun Ryu // Zen

“Now you know.” You voice holds strength you never knew you could muster, but deep inside you feel your soul crumbling to dust as you watch his eyes widen at the sight of the deep scars on your skin.

He takes a step towards you, but stops, afraid his touch and comfort might not be welcome right now. Still, seeing him like this, so different from the always smiling and outgoing Zen, tugs at your heartstrings.

“You did this. You did this to him. Look at how miserable you made him feel!” The voice at the back of your head gets stronger, feeding on the memories of your past that start flooding your mind. Telling the truth frees you. That’s something you’ve heard too many times, but why do you still feel trapped in the cage of your own struggles?

“Ah, I knew it. I’m sorry. The scars… I shouldn’t have told you. I shouldn’t have showed you. You must think I’m ugly, in and out.“ Knees starting to buckle, voice breaking, you gather all your strength just to keep yourself from falling into the dark pit of despair dug by your own mind as you desperately try to button up your shirt.

“That’s not it!” His voice is loud as he finally closes the distance between you two. His hands grab yours, fingers frantically moving on your skin to draw intangible figures. “That’s not it at all, MC! I love you… I love you so much and I think you’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever met!”

His fingers move up your arms and then onto your belly to caress your scars, his gentle touch leaving a faint, soothing trail in its wake. “I’m here for you. Always have and always will.” As his arms wrap tightly around your body, you let yourself surrender to his light.

Yoosung

“Please… Just leave me alone.” Your desperate plea is met with a deafening silence broken only by Yoosung’s sharp inhales. “I just don’t want you to see me like this. Please… Just go.”

You feel weak. Too weak to move from your curled up position on the bed. Too weak to argue. Too weak to let tears relieve your pain. Too weak and indifferent to everything around you.

You hear him move, his steps hasty as he heads towards the door, leaving you all alone. Your mind wanders to dark places, making you feel even emptier and you wonder if that’s even possible in the first place.

The mattress dips under his weight and a moment later you feel his slender arms around you, pulling you close to his chest. “No!” His voice sounds firm and resolute, even though you feel his lips trembling against the back of your neck. “I don’t want to leave, MC! I… I might not know exactly what you’ve gone through, I might not know the pain you’ve experienced…”

As he lets his tears flow freely, burning your skin as soon as they make contact with it, you feel your own starting to prick your eyes. “But I want to understand! I want to be with you! I care for you and I want to help you! Please, let me be here for you!”

His arms tighten around your waist, making you feel the sobs racking his body in their full strength. As tears start flowing down your cheeks, their bitter taste familiar on your lips, you uncurl your fingers and slowly move your hands to meet his. For the first time in a while, you don’t feel alone.

Jaehee

“I can’t answer the phone right now. Leave a message and I’ll call you later! Teehee!” Your voice is cheerful as it sends Jaehee to your voicemail for the umpteenth time today. With a sharp sigh, she quickens her pace as she makes her way through the crowd. With some good luck, she’ll be at your place in less than half an hour.

You can’t get up. And what’s the point, really? There’s nothing you feel like doing, nothing that would make you or anyone else smile. Nothing you’re good at. You’d at least get to the kitchen and grab something to eat, but lately your appetite has all but been gone. Your eyelids grow heavy as you slowly turn to your side. At least no one judges me in my sleep, you think to yourself as you drift off to slumber.

Jaehee’s always been someone who plans ahead, but for the first time in her life she feels such immense gratitude for her foresight. Had she not made you give her the spare key to your place, she would probably have waited days for you to open the door. With no trouble getting the key in the look, even with her hands shaking nervously, she bursts into your apartment.

“MC?” Hesitantly, you open your eyes. As they slowly adjust to the light of the day, you feel someone’s warm hand caressing your cheek. Smiling tenderly, a familiar face is looking at you with watery eyes. “… Jae..hee?”

With a relieved sigh, she moves her free hand to wipe away the telltale signs of her worries that have started to spill from her eyes. “I… I was so afraid something might have happened to you. “

In a fit of overwhelming guilt, you turn your head to the side, refusing to meet her gaze. “MC, I’ve known you for a while now. I was struck by your easygoing personality and great kindness, but I can tell you haven’t been the same lately.”

She pauses for a second to take a deep breath in and adjust her position on your bed. As her hand resumes its gentle caresses on your cheek, she continues. “I want you to know I’ll be there for you no matter what. I care about you, MC. Unconditionally.”

Jumin

“Do you not like it, love?” His gift, a beautiful black dress, fitted and sleeveless, lies sprawled on the bed, mocking you. Unfortunately, you don’t find the twisted sense of humor of some simple fabric funny, so you turn around to face Jumin, unknowingly standing in the midst of the ghosts of your past.

Taking a deep breath in, you let your mind calm down a bit before you give him an answer. “It’s a beautiful dress, Jumin… But I’m not gonna wear it. I’m sorry.” He gives you a quick nod, but you catch a hint of sadness crossing his face before ultimately disappearing into nothingness, covered up by his composure. “I understand.” His movements are controlled as he folds the dress, the corners of his lips curving up into a slightly forced smile.

“No. You deserve to know exactly why I don’t want to wear it.” With another deep breath, you start rolling up the sleeves of your shirt, revealing the thick scars on your forearms. The dress falls out of Jumin’s hands as his mind processes the sight in front of him, his eyes wide.

“We’ve been dating for a while and… and you should know about this. I went through something really, really horrible.. and…and that was the only way I could cope with it…” Your voice starts breaking as memories of your recent past flood your vision, making you feel the heavy weight of pain and guilt once again.

Strong arms wrap around you tightly, grounding you to the present moment. “It’s okay, love. I understand.” He pulls away to cup your cheeks, gaze focused on your eyes. “You are strong, my love, but you don’t have to handle this on your own. I want to help you, if you’ll allow me to. Nothing matters more to me than you and your well-being. Don’t ever forget that.”

As you let his words sink in, you feel a wave of relief washing over you. You’re not alone. Not anymore.

707 // Luciel // Saeyoung

“You’re not the only one with a goofy happy-go-lucky mask on, you know?” Angry tears start spilling down your cheeks as your yelling fills the room. His eyes widen and his fingers stop in the midst of typing yet another complicated line of code.

Gaze still focused on his screen, he opens his mouth in an attempt to say something, anything, but his efforts fall short. Still afraid to look at you, afraid to come to terms with what you just said, he starts typing again, shaking his head in disbelief.

“No. No. You’re happy, outgoing, and loved, MC. For real. You’re not pretending. You’re not like me…” Voice breaking, he throws his laptop on the ground. To hell with it. He’ll just buy another one. Things are replaceable. People aren’t. As he finally gathers the courage to look at you, he feels warm tears dampening the skin of his cheeks. “Please… Please tell me you’re not like me.”

Your voice refuses to come out, instead making way to muffled sobs. Gaze cast down, you embrace yourself in an attempt to keep your mind and body from crumbling, fingers digging holes into the skin of your arms.

You hear him move and a moment later his hands are on your face. “MC… I’m so sorry.” Ashamed of your sudden confession, you refuse to look at him, instead clenching your eyes even more tightly.

“I had no idea you’ve gone through so much pain, MC.” His lips move on your face frantically, leaving light pecks in their wake. Releasing yourself from your own tight grip, you lean towards Saeyoung, hands moving up to clutch onto his hoodie like a drowning man at a straw.

When he finally feels like he’s covered the whole surface of your face with soft kisses, he lets his forehead rest on yours. “Whenever you’re ready to talk about it, I’ll be there to listen. I promise, MC. I promise.”

Ray // Unknown // Saeran

The delicate fragrance of roses fills his nostrils as soon as he walks out the door. Back facing him, you’re sitting cross-legged on the ground, arms firmly placed behind you to support the weight of your body. A sight so serene, it elicits a light chuckle from him.

As he gets closer to you, the soft smile on his face fades away. The sleeves of your shirt have gone slightly up your arms, revealing a sight that makes Saeran’s chest tighten with immeasurable pain.

Slowly, he sits down next to you, mimicking your position. “What is it, darling?” You try to engage him in a conversation, but to no avail. His expression is unreadable as he sits in silence next to you, making all kinds of bad thoughts cross your mind.

After a couple more minutes, he clears his throat and looks at you. “MC, are you… are you feeling okay?” You’re quick to place your hands in your lap, fiddling with the sleeves of your shirt to make sure they’re covering your secret. 

Gently, he grabs one of your hands. “I saw them. I saw the scars.” Too used to this type of conversations, you laugh his worries off. “Oh, honey. You know I’ve been working a lot in the garden lately. I just lost a couple of battles against some rose bushes. That’s it. “

His grip on your hand tightens, prompting you to look at him, his eyes watery. “I understand why you’ve resorted to this coping mechanism. Believe me, MC, I understand. But… “ His free hand moves up to cover his face as his tears start flowing down his cheeks. “I want you to talk to me about it. Tell me how you feel. Tell me about what you’ve been going through.”

Biting your lips, you make a futile attempt to stop your own tears from falling. As he sees your reaction, Saeran moves closer to you, pulling you into a tight embrace. “I’m not gonna judge you. So please… Let’s talk about it. Let me help you. You’re not alone.” Sobs start wracking your body and you find your hands clutching at his shirt. “Not anymore.”

Jihyun Kim // V

“We regret to inform you that our organization will not be pursuing your candidacy for this position. We thank you for your interest…” Ah, what’s with all the job rejection letters these days? The same words, as if taken from the same site for templates, repeated in the last… you don’t even know how many emails anymore, stare at you from the screen, mocking your inability to land a job.

Who would want to hire you anyway? You’re worthless. You’re not good at anything and people can see that. Tears start pricking your eyes at the words of that persistent voice at the back of your head. Hard work doesn’t always pay off, it seems. As you let the glaring realization sink in, loud sobs start wracking your body.

Driven by a gut feeling, V hurries home, heart rate picking up as he thinks about you. The signs were subtle at first, but he noticed anyway. Lack of appetite, oversleeping, loss of interest in all the activities you used to enjoy. He’s not the epitome of healthy habits and his own wounds are still healing, but he’s not letting you face your trauma alone.

Back slouched over the desk, you let your head fall on the sturdy surface. Your tears fall ceaselessly down your cheeks, forming a small puddle of sorrow and regrets right next to your laptop. As you feel another wave of pain coursing through your body, slender arms wrap around your form tightly.

“It’s okay. It’s all gonna be okay, MC.” He pulls away for a second to plant a gentle, lingering kiss on your head, your hair soft under the touch of his lips. His gaze falls on the screen of the laptop, the job rejection letter still open in the browser.

Turning your chair around so he could look at you, he grabs your face, gaze resolute as it falls on your red eyes. “You are the strongest person I know, MC. Don’t let this setback trigger what you fought so hard to overcome. I’m here for you. You can get through this.” He leans in to let his forehead touch yours, his thumbs drawing circles on your cheeks. “I’ll be there for you every step of the way.”

Vanderwood

The sound of glass shattering to numerous pieces fills the room as soon as the vase makes contact with the wall. You’re angry, so angry, at everyone, everything, at the whole world… And above all, at yourself. At your own helplessness.

The pieces of shattered glass lie on the floor, glimmering under the moonlight that’s sliding in through the curtains. Their soft glow is almost otherworldly, alluring, hypnotizing, and you find yourself on your knees, a particularly big piece of glass in your hand.

Slowly, you roll up the sleeves of your shirt, revealing the sight of all your previously inflicted scars. You run your fingers over them, gently, as if careful not to disturb their peace, pondering over the meaning of all these sensations swirling around throughout your whole body.

You’re all too familiar with both physical and mental pain. To you, they’re connected to each other, coexisting. One follows the other in an endless, vicious cycle that you don’t know how to break.

As you feel your body going numb, you ready the piece of glass in your hand, but just when you’re about to slide it over your delicate skin, someone’s strong arms stop you. “Don’t. Please.”

Vanderwood’s voice is low, but clear, and you feel your grip on the glass loosening under his touch. With a sharp sound, it falls on the ground, breaking into two new pieces.

He pulls you towards his chest and you let the smell of leather, cigarettes, and mint, so unique to him, fill your lungs, soothing you in the process. “Talk to me. I’ll listen.” His embrace tightens even more around your body as he lets his cheek rest on the top of your head. “And I’ll help you cope with your pain. Let me do it. Please.”