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solxamber · 5 months ago

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Trash Novel Chronicles: Please Let Me Live - Vil Schoenheit x reader

You get isekai'd into the worst novel you've had the misfortune of reading because apparently your life is a cosmic joke. Now all you have to do is not act like the character you've possessed and it'll be fine, you think? Your fiancé being Vil Schoenheit makes it a little harder to behave like a human being with functional braincells, but hey, atleast he likes you, you think?

Series Masterlist

You'd avoided it for so long. For months, your best friend had been pestering you to read the shoujo isekai novel of the year. According to them, it was the epitome of romantic drama, the kind that would "turn your heart into a mess of feelings" and "change your life." So, finally, after a particularly grueling week, your willpower hit rock bottom. You caved. You bought it, poured yourself a drink, and figured, "How bad can it be?"

Turns out, really bad.

You’d barely made it past the first few chapters before your brain began to leak out of your ears. Every overused villainess plot point imaginable was crammed into the story like a contest of "how much nonsense can we fit in here before the reader gives up?" The evil fiancée everyone inexplicably hated? Check. The perfect cinnamon roll male lead everyone adored even though he had the personality of wet cardboard? Double check. The heroine who was so pure that even her sneeze would be enough to unite warring nations who also happens to be the saintess? You had to put the book down and take a moment when she gave a speech about friendship that was so saccharine, your teeth hurt.

Grumbling and filled with regret, you got up to refill your drink… only to slip on bubble wrap you swore yesterday that you were going to pick up later, fall face-first into the kitchen counter, and began to bleed out.

It was a comically stupid way to die. You knew that as you lay there, watching the light fade from your vision, your last thoughts being, This is the dumbest thing that’s ever happened to me.

And then, darkness.

You woke up with a groan, your head pounding. As your vision cleared, you noticed you were lying in a very, very fancy bed. Silk sheets, gold trimming on the canopy, the works. And you were dressed in something frilly, layered, and far too complicated for someone who just woke up from a near-death experience.

"What the…"

You sat up, rubbing your eyes, only to freeze as the realization hit you. This was not your bed. This was not your apartment. This was… Oh god, no.

You whipped your head around the lavish room, recognizing it from the novel you’d been hate-reading just last night. The massive mirror above the dresser, the tapestry with an overly detailed family crest, the obnoxiously large bouquet of roses that smelled way too sweet.

You’re in the book.

Panicking, you scrambled out of bed and rushed to the full-length mirror by the wall. The reflection staring back at you was not your own. Instead, you saw an unfamiliar face—her face. The one mentioned once, maybe twice, in the whole novel before being discarded like an old shoe: the betrothed of the villain.

The fiancée who dumps him for the male lead. The fiancée who gets themselves killed in the process.

“Oh, come on!” you groaned, slapping your forehead. “I’m the villain’s betrothed? I’m that idiot who leaves Vil Schoenheit because I fall for the human incarnation of a sugar cube?”

But there was no escaping it. You were now stuck in the body of a side character so irrelevant that even her death was treated as an afterthought. The one who leaves her handsome, ambitious, gorgeous fiancé for… Neige.

No. No, no, no. You were not about to die over a soggy cinnamon roll.

Determined to change your fate, you gathered your wits and opened the door to leave the room. But of course, you ran headlong into a tall figure, knocking you both back.

“Oof! Careful there!” a smooth, yet stern voice said. You looked up—and froze. Standing before you, looking like something straight out of a high-fashion magazine, was Vil Schoenheit. The man whose heart you were supposed to break, the villain who would later descend into madness after you ditch him.

And wow. In person, he was even more stunning than the novel had described. His golden-blond hair shimmered in the sunlight pouring through the window, his purple eyes were as sharp as they were beautiful, and his posture screamed confidence.

You blinked up at him, utterly dumbfounded. You’re supposed to leave him? For Neige? You nearly gagged at the thought.

Vil raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed by your wide-eyed staring. “Is something the matter?”

You gulped. Right. You were supposed to be cold and dismissive toward him, weren’t you? But how? This man looked like he could make the heavens weep with his beauty. How had your character ever even considered leaving him?

“No, nothing’s the matter!” you blurted out, a little too enthusiastically. “Actually, everything’s great! You look fantastic! I mean, not that you don’t always look fantastic—because you do—but, you know, extra fantastic today!”

Vil’s eyes narrowed. “You’re acting strange.”

Abort. Abort!

You quickly cleared your throat. “Uh, I’ve just been… thinking. About us.”

His gaze became sharper. “About us?”

You nodded, plastering on your most sincere smile. “Yes! I’ve realized… I haven’t been very, uh, appreciative of you lately. And I’m sorry for that. Really, I am. So from now on, I’ll be the most appreciative fiancée ever!”

Vil looked at you as though you’d just told him the sun was cold. He clearly didn’t trust this sudden change in attitude. “What exactly brought this on?” he asked slowly, suspiciously.

Time for Plan B. “Oh, you know, just… reflection! Self-improvement! I thought, ‘Why would I ever look anywhere else when I’ve got someone like *you* right in front of me?’ You’re… amazing, really.” You cringed internally at how corny that sounded, but Vil didn’t seem entirely put off.

“Hm,” was all he said, but his piercing gaze stayed locked on you, watching for any sign of deceit.

You were sweating bullets, but at least he wasn’t storming off. Yet.

You knew from the moment you read the back cover that this novel was going to be a dumpster fire of clichés, but you were not prepared for the sheer chaos of it all.

So, first off, we have the heroine—the Saintess—who has somehow never faced a single hardship in her life, despite the fact that she’s supposed to be the kingdom’s beacon of virtue and a symbol of overcoming hardship. She’s engaged to the crown prince, who conveniently disappears on a diplomatic mission and dies offscreen, probably to make room for her new love interest, Neige LeBlanche. Neige. That sparkly ray of sunshine who is so perfect and pure that you feel like you need sunglasses whenever his name is mentioned. Because apparently, what’s more romantic than falling for a guy immediately after your fiancé kicks the bucket?

Then there’s the second male lead, the brooding Duke of the North, who checks all the boxes: tall, brooding, handsome, tragic backstory—yawn. Of course, he’s madly in love with the Saintess, and like any self-respecting second male lead in a trashy romance, he sacrifices himself for her later. Because nothing says “I’m irrelevant” quite like noble self-sacrifice.

And don't even get started on the heroine's best friend. She’s basically there to fawn over the Saintess and then inexplicably fall for Vil, the Grand Duke, after she pressures him into apologizing for insulting the heroine's dress. Like, why? Was his dress critique that alluring?

Now, Vil Schoenheit. The Grand Duke. The guy you’re currently stuck with as your fiancé. He’s actually a decent character—powerful, intelligent, not falling over himself to worship the Saintess like everyone else. But in the novel, he’s wasted. Why? Because he’s engaged to the character you’re now possessing—Miss Mean and Cold—who treats him like dirt because she’s too busy fantasizing about Neige. You know, the guy she has no shot with because he’s destined to fall for the Saintess. Then, when your character eventually dumps Vil for Neige, she dies in a freak accident. Vil, who actually loved her (for reasons no one understands), is so heartbroken that he turns into the main villain.

Yes, that’s right—this whole mess of a plot ends with Vil going full villain mode because the love of his life ditched him for the living embodiment of a children’s snowman and then died in a way that no one can explain. Cue the Saintess and Neige teaming up to defeat him and live happily ever after.

And that’s the story. A tangled web of nonsensical relationships, conveniently dead characters, and more emotional whiplash than you can handle. And the cherry on top? You're stuck in it, watching everything unfold firsthand. It's honestly a wonder the book didn’t end up as kindling.

A few days passed, and somehow, miraculously, you managed to keep up the act. Every morning you would wake up, still half-expecting to snap out of this bizarre isekai nightmare, but instead, you were met with Vil’s meticulous morning routine and the low hum of his voice offering helpful reminders about skincare.

And the more time you spent with him, the more baffled you became.

How the hell could the original character have messed this up?!

Sure, Vil was particular—okay, maybe borderline obsessive—about appearances. His lectures about proper sunscreen application could rival the length of the Odyssey. And yes, the daily inspections of your outfit choices felt a little like going through customs at a royal border.

But… he was kind? Like, actually caring?

Every meal was an event because he made sure you were eating properly and not just shoving random food into your mouth like the gremlin you clearly were before. He listened when you rambled about your day, offering advice with this gentle patience that honestly made you want to weep. How could anyone leave this?

You found yourself in front of a mirror one afternoon, pacing and gesturing wildly at your reflection, as if you could summon the spirit of the character you’d possessed. "What the actual hell was wrong with you?!" you hissed at the glass. “What kind of brain rot would make someone ditch a man like Vil?! Are you missing brain cells, or was your skull just a rental with nothing in it?!”

You paused, glaring at your reflection as if it could offer answers, but nope. It just stared back, helpless.

“Like, hello?!” you continued, throwing your hands up in exasperation. “You had a golden opportunity here! He’s literally gorgeous! He’s got hair that looks like it was hand-spun by some ancient beauty god, his fashion sense could kill a lesser mortal, and he—*gasp*—cares about your well-being?!”

You slapped your forehead dramatically. “How did you mess this up? Were you allergic to good things? Did you wake up every day and choose to be a feral raccoon instead of, I don’t know, appreciating this actual masterpiece of a human being? What, did you look at his perfect face and go, ‘Nah, I’d rather yeet myself into self-destruction?’ Because clearly, that’s what happened!”

Your reflection remained silent, offering no help, which only fueled your rant further.

“You absolute donut! You ridiculous bottle of poorly mixed potion! You—” You stopped mid-sentence, running out of sufficiently creative insults to throw at the former owner of this body. Because seriously, what kind of fool would’ve thrown Vil away?

You gripped the sides of the vanity table, leaning forward, narrowing your eyes at your own reflection. "If I find out that you gave up on this because he once asked you to wear a face mask or told you to drink more water… I swear, I'm going to find a way to repossess you just to kill you again for making me deal with this."

A soft knock at the door startled you out of your self-directed tirade. You nearly jumped out of your skin, spinning around to see Vil standing in the doorway, one perfectly groomed eyebrow raised in amusement.

“Talking to yourself again?” he asked, his voice smooth but with a teasing edge. “You know, that’s usually a sign of stress. Perhaps we should revisit that meditation routine I mentioned.”

You stared at him, wide-eyed and speechless, wondering how much he’d overheard. But then you caught sight of that soft smile he reserved just for you, and your brain short-circuited all over again.

Right. The original character was definitely an idiot.

The first major hurdle hit you when you least expected it.

It all started with what should have been a calm afternoon—a brief moment of peace where you and Vil could actually spend time together, no schemes, no weird confrontations, just enjoying tea. You were finally getting comfortable with each other, slowly building the trust that had been so fragile at the start. Finally, you thought, things were moving smoothly.

Then the overused villainess trope decided to rear its ugly head.

Vil was talking about an upcoming event he’d be hosting, his voice calm, his usual stern features softened just slightly by the moment of peace. You were finally letting your guard down.

That was until the door creaked open and in waltzed the heroine’s best friend, a girl with wide, doe-like eyes and a penchant for stirring up unnecessary drama. Behind her, looming in the doorway, was the second male lead—your eternal source of frustration from the novel. He was tall, brooding, and always, always popping up at the most inconvenient moments. A defeated looking Epel walked in behind them, with a look that screamed 'trust me I tried to stop them.'

“Oh no,” you whispered under your breath, recognizing this scene before it could even play out. You knew what was coming, and you braced yourself for the utter absurdity of it.

Vil’s sharp gaze flicked from the two intruders back to you, his brows furrowing in mild irritation. “What is it now?” he muttered, already sensing the impending nonsense.

The heroine’s friend, ever the bringer of chaos, marched right up to your table with a dramatic flair that could only come from someone who believed they were the only purveyor of justice. “I can’t stay quiet any longer!” she declared, pointing an accusatory finger in Vil’s direction. “Vil, how could you treat the heroine this way?! You’ve been so cold, so distant—and it’s clear that you don’t truly care for anyone but yourself!”

You blinked. Excuse me?

Vil’s lips pursed, the irritation growing on his face. “And what, pray tell, did I do?”

“You know what you did!” she exclaimed, crossing her arms like she’d just delivered the most damning statement in history. “You’ve been ignoring her, brushing her off, and acting like she doesn’t even exist. She’s heartbroken because of you!”

You groaned internally. Oh no, this was that scene. The one where, because Vil once made an offhand comment about the heroine’s poor choice in dresses at a ball, suddenly he was painted as some cruel villain who was emotionally tormenting the delicate heroine. It was such an incredibly stupid misunderstanding that you distinctly remembered wanting to throw the book across the room when you’d first read it.

To make matters worse, the second male lead, standing silently but brooding in the doorway, was glowering at Vil like he was ready to challenge him to a duel at any moment. Because of a comment about a dress.

“Are you serious?” you blurted out, the frustration bubbling up before you could stop yourself.

The heroine’s friend gasped, her eyes wide. “Excuse me?!”

“Let me get this straight,” you said, rising from your seat with a groan, “you’re upset because Vil, what, didn’t shower her with praise at the last event? And now you’ve decided to come in here, storming into our tea time, to complain about it?”

The second male lead’s brooding scowl deepened, his jaw tightening. “Vil has been cruel—”

“About a dress.” You cut him off, waving your hand dismissively. “Vil made one comment about her dress. That’s it. And now we’re doing this whole song and dance like he’s some kind of evil tyrant?”

The room was already tense, the heroine’s best friend visibly fuming, but you couldn’t help it. The words just came out before you could stop them.

“And while we’re at it,” you said, your voice dripping with mock innocence, “let’s talk about that dress. You know, the one you’re all so upset about. I mean, I’m no fashion expert, but who in their right mind thought wearing that shade of mustard-yellow was a good idea?”

The friend’s mouth fell open, but you weren’t finished. “I mean, she walked into the ballroom looking like a sad banana trying to go to a high society function. I get it—saintess and all that—but there’s no reason to dress like the interior of an overripe cantaloupe.”

Vil made a choking sound next to you, and you dared to glance at him. His eyes were wide with shock, but there was an unmistakable glint of amusement. Oh, he wasn’t pleased with the crudeness, but he definitely wasn’t going to stop you either.

“And you,” you said, turning to the second male lead, who had been standing there like a silent, brooding statue, just staring at the two of you menacingly. “What’s your excuse? You came in here with all this brooding energy, acting like you’re about to duel someone over the fate of the heroine. But seriously, what’s with your whole tragic hero act? Is your personality just permanent raincloud or do you practice that in the mirror?”

Vil covered his mouth with his hand, and you could see his shoulders shaking slightly. He was losing the battle to keep his composure, but he was trying—for dignity’s sake, of course.

Epel, on the other hand, had completely given up. The moment you’d said “sad banana,” he had fallen off his chair, doubled over in laughter, his face red as he clutched his sides. You weren’t sure if it was your insults or the second male lead’s thunderstruck expression, but either way, Epel was in hysterics.

“I—” the heroine’s friend sputtered, but you interrupted her again.

“Oh, and you.” You looked her up and down with a condescending smirk. “You really want to talk about fashion? Because I don’t know who told you that wearing ruffles with plaid was a look, but they were wrong. You’re out here looking like you got lost in a fabric store and fell into the clearance bin.”

This time, Vil snorted. Actually snorted. The sound was so out of place that it almost derailed your tirade, but you powered through, buoyed by his reaction.

The second male lead looked like he was ready to explode, his aura now bordering on murderous. “You can’t just—”

“Oh, can’t I?” you shot back, crossing your arms. “Because it seems like all of you came in here with the intent to stir up drama over something as trivial as a constructive remark. If you’re going to go to war over fashion, at least wear something that doesn’t look like you picked it out with your eyes closed. Scratch that, I couldn’t imagine picking that up even with my eyes closed.”

By now, Epel was rolling on the floor, laughing so hard he could barely breathe. “C-couldn’t pick it out… with your eyes closed!” he wheezed, slapping his knee.

Vil, despite himself, let out a low giggle, shaking his head in disbelief. “Well,” he said, his voice steady but filled with mirth, “I suppose subtlety was never your strong suit.”

The heroine’s friend, now red-faced and flustered beyond belief, grabbed the second male lead by the arm and yanked him toward the door. “This isn’t over,” she spat, glaring at you. “We’ll see who’s laughing when the heroine—”

“Yeah, yeah,” you waved dismissively, “when the heroine what? Realizes she’s been pining for someone who can't tell mustard from elegance? Trust me, I’m not worried.”

With that, they both stormed out, slamming the door behind them in a huff of embarrassment and frustration. The second they were gone, you let out a breath and sank back into your chair, grinning at Vil, who was now openly smiling.

“You really didn’t hold back, did you?” Vil said, his amusement evident despite his usual calm demeanor. “I don’t approve of such… crude insults, but I must admit—” his lips twitched— “it was rather effective.”

Epel, still recovering from his laughing fit, managed to haul himself back into his seat, wiping tears from his eyes. “That was… that was the funniest thing I’ve ever seen,” he said between gasps for air. “I can’t believe ya said that right to their faces!”

“Glad to be of service,” you said with a grin, though your heart was still pounding in your chest. You couldn’t believe you’d actually said all of that out loud. But judging by Vil’s pleased expression and Epel’s ongoing laughter, it had been worth it.

Maybe surviving this trash novel wouldn’t be so bad after all.

You’d barely had time to process how bizarrely normal your life as the villain’s fiancée had become when the next absurd isekai plot point decided to rear its ugly, trope-filled head again.

It all started at yet another lavish tea party. Honestly, you’d begun to lose track of how many of these events you were forced to attend. They all blurred together into a haze of polite smiles, floral patterns, and far too much sugar.

This time, you were seated next to Vil, who, as always, looked like he had just stepped out of a renaissance painting. You, on the other hand, were trying not to spill tea on the new dress he’d insisted you wear. The dress itself was lovely, of course—Vil had impeccable taste—but the whole setting made you feel like you were constantly walking on eggshells. Especially since she was here. The heroine.

Today, though, you were determined to get through it without any drama. Just smile, nod, and let the heroine do her thing. Easy, right?

Wrong.

Everything had been going smoothly, too. The heroine, in all her sunshiney glory, was seated at the table, surrounded by her usual group of admirers. You had been doing a great job of fading into the background until someone—the hostess, perhaps?—brought up your previous adventures.

“Oh, didn’t you once accompany the Grand Duke to deal with that bandit problem on the eastern border?” the hostess asked, fanning herself with interest. “What a thrilling ordeal!”

You shifted uncomfortably in your seat, feeling the weight of too many eyes on you. “Well, I wouldn’t say thrilling exactly…” you began, trying to downplay it, but your nerves had other ideas. “I mean, the heroine here was probably off rescuing some poor lost puppy while I was just, you know, holding down the real danger.”

The air went cold.

The moment the words left your mouth, you froze. The table fell silent, save for the quiet clinking of teacups being set down. Every eye was on you. The heroine’s wide, eyes blinked at you, full of hurt and confusion. And across from you, the second male lead—Mr. Tall, Dark, and Brooding—looked like he was ready to leap across the table and strangle you on the spot.

Oh no. Oh no no no. Why did you leave your filter at home?

You opened your mouth to apologize, but before you could, the second male lead slammed his cup down on the table, the porcelain rattling ominously. “You dare insult her honor?!” he roared, rising from his seat like some kind of vengeful storm cloud. “I will not stand for this!”

*Why did I say that?* You cringed internally, face turning a bright shade of crimson. "I-it was a joke—"

“No,” he declared dramatically, pointing a finger at you. “I demand satisfaction! A duel for her honor!”

You were still too stunned to respond, your brain scrambling to make sense of the situation. A duel? Over this? All you’d implied was that the heroine wasn’t exactly… battle-hardened. Surely that wasn’t duel-worthy? This man was acting like you’d called his mother a turnip or something worse.

The heroine, ever the epitome of grace, tried to intervene. “There’s no need for—”

But Mr. Broody wasn’t having it. “No! Her honor has been besmirched, and I shall defend it with my life!”

Vil, who had been watching this spectacle unfold with an expression of mild disgust, finally rose from his chair. His cool gaze swept over the table, landing on the second male lead with all the intensity of a snake about to strike.

“If anyone’s honor has been besmirched,” Vil said icily, “it’s mine. And I will not allow my betrothed to be disrespected by the likes of you.”

You blinked up at Vil, stunned. “Wait, you’re going to duel him? Yourself?”

Vil turned his piercing gaze to you, and though his face remained calm, there was a glimmer of something softer in his eyes. “Of course,” he said. “I would never entrust such a matter to anyone else. Besides…” His lips curled into a smirk. “It’s been a while since I’ve put an upstart in his place.”

You gulped, suddenly feeling a bit light-headed. Was it getting hot in here?

The second male lead, apparently unaware of just how screwed he was, smirked triumphantly. “Very well! Let’s settle this once and for all.”

The duel was set for the next day in your estate gardens. You spent the time leading up to it pacing back and forth in your chambers, wringing your hands in nervous anticipation. Somewhere along the way, you’d decided that you needed to do something—anything—to support Vil. So you had spent hours learning how to embroider a handkerchief, your fingers aching from the effort. By the time you finished, you were practically shaking, but you were proud of the result.

You didn’t expect Vil to be touched, let alone notice that you’d worked so hard. But when you handed him the handkerchief just before the duel, his eyes widened in surprise.

“You made this?” he asked, holding it delicately between his fingers, as if it were some priceless artifact.

You nodded sheepishly. “I figured, you know, for luck. Or to rub it in his face after you beat him. Whichever.”

Vil chuckled, his usually sharp expression softening. “Thank you,” he said, his voice low. He then noticed the small needle marks on your hands and frowned. “You hurt yourself.”

You quickly hid your hands behind your back. “It’s nothing! I mean, I’m fine. Just a few pricks here and there.”

Vil’s expression softened even further, and for a moment, he looked almost… touched. He carefully tucked the handkerchief into his coat pocket, a small but genuine smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “I’ll be sure to put this to good use.”

You didn’t swoon. Well, maybe just a little.

The duel was, in a word, ridiculous.

The second male lead strutted around like a peacock, his sword gleaming in the afternoon sunlight as he swung it dramatically for the small crowd that had gathered. “Prepare yourself, Schoenheit!” he bellowed, pointing his sword at Vil.

Vil, on the other hand, looked utterly unimpressed. He barely glanced at the man before calmly removing his coat and handing it to you. “Hold this, will you?”

You took the coat with a nod, trying not to pass out from how effortlessly graceful he looked even in the midst of preparing for a fight.

The second male lead lunged forward with all the finesse of a drunken ox, his sword clashing loudly against Vil’s. For a moment, it looked like a real duel—until Vil, with a single fluid motion, disarmed the man in one clean strike. The second male lead’s sword went flying, landing in the bushes several feet away with a pathetic thud.

The crowd gasped, and you had to stifle a laugh. It had barely been five seconds, and the duel was already over.

The second male lead stood there, stunned, his hand frozen mid-air where his sword had been. He blinked once, twice, then turned bright red with embarrassment. “W-what?!”

Vil, ever composed, didn’t even break a sweat. He sheathed his sword and gave the man a cold, dismissive look. “This duel is over. Consider your demand for satisfaction... fulfilled. Now, kindly leave before you embarrass yourself further.”

You bit your lip, trying not to giggle as the second male lead sputtered and tried to come up with an excuse, but it was clear to everyone that he had been utterly humiliated. Even the heroine, standing off to the side, looked like she was struggling to keep a straight face.

As the second male lead stumbled off, defeated, Vil turned to you and offered his hand. “Shall we go?”

You took his hand, still trying to process how easily he had won. “You were amazing,” you blurted out, your heart fluttering as you gazed up at him. “Seriously, that was… wow.”

Vil smirked, the corner of his mouth twitching with amusement. “Of course I was.” He then leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to a whisper. “And I expect a proper reward later for defending your honor.”

Your face went beet red, and you were pretty sure you’d forgotten how to breathe.

Yep, you thought as he led you away, his hand still in yours, surviving this trash novel might not be so bad after all.

It happened at one of those overly extravagant banquets the royal court liked to throw. You spotted Neige from across the room, all bright eyes and an innocent smile. He was the epitome of purity, as if his very presence could summon woodland creatures to frolic at his feet.

And you hated him on sight.

You watched in disbelief as everyone around him melted into puddles of admiration. He was practically glowing, and his overly cheerful, squeaky voice was grating on your ears.

The overly saccharine male lead stood there, looking like a cross between a baby bunny and a sentient cupcake. Everything about him screamed "pure-hearted." You nearly gagged on your drink, hoping no one noticed your grimace.

Vil noticed your sour expression and leaned in. “Is something the matter?”

“That’s him, isn’t it?” you said through clenched teeth. “The one I used to follow around?”

Vil followed your gaze, and for a moment, his lips twitched in the faintest show of amusement. “Yes. That’s Neige.”

You snorted. "I can't believe anyone in their right mind would prefer him over you."

Vil's lips curled into a smirk, and he tilted his head slightly. “Oh? Is that so?” His voice was silky, dangerously low, but you could see the flash of satisfaction behind his eyes.

“Yeah,” you muttered, still glaring in Neige's direction. “I mean, look at him. He’s so… good. And not in a ‘wow, what a decent person’ way. It’s like he’s one bad haircut away from sprouting fairy wings and breaking into song.”

Vil let out a low chuckle, right next to you ear, (Lord, have mercy) the sound sending shivers down your spine. “I never thought I’d hear you speak this way about him. You’ve been fawning over Neige for as long as I can remember.”

You rolled your eyes, throwing your hands up. “That was the old me. The dumb me. I mean, have you seen you?” You gestured dramatically toward him. “How could anyone even look at Neige when you exist?”

Vil was quiet for a moment, watching you intently. His violet eyes glinted with something unreadable, but you could tell he was pleased. Oh, he was very pleased.

“You certainly have changed,” he murmured, the smirk never leaving his lips. “And I must admit, I find it rather… delightful.”

Before you could respond, a very familiar voice rang out from behind you. “Ah! What a beautiful reunion this is! A moment filled with l’amour, sparkling like the stars in the sky!”

You nearly jumped out of your skin as Rook Hunt appeared seemingly out of thin air, his hands dramatically clasped together as he beamed at you both. “I have seen many couples in my lifetime, but none quite so radiant as you two.”

You blinked, trying to recover from his sudden appearance. “Rook… were you just… hiding in the curtains again?”

Rook, ever the dramatist, placed a hand on his heart and smiled wistfully. “Ah, but how could I stay away when the beauty of your love draws me in like a moth to a flame?”

Vil raised an eyebrow. “Rook, you’re not helping.”

“Non, non, mon ami,” Rook insisted, twirling in place with a flourish. “I am merely basking in the glow of what is surely a love for the ages! The way your eyes meet, the subtle tension in the air—it is magnifique!”

You sighed, shaking your head, though you couldn’t help but chuckle at Rook’s antics. Meanwhile, from the other side of the ballroom, Epel was watching the scene unfold with barely concealed amusement. He caught your eye and shot you a grin, raising his glass as if to say, Good luck with this.

But the fun wasn’t over. Oh no. Neige, the human embodiment of a children’s choir, started making his way toward you. As he approached, his bright eyes locked on yours, his smile so innocent and wide that you almost felt bad for what you were about to do.

Almost.

“Good evening!” Neige greeted you, his voice as sweet as sugar. “I don’t believe we’ve had the chance to properly meet.”

You stared at him for a moment, unimpressed. “Yeah, uh-huh.”

Neige blinked, clearly taken aback by your lack of enthusiasm. He probably wasn’t used to people not immediately falling at his feet. “It’s truly wonderful to meet you! I’ve heard so much about you.”

You squinted at him. “Mm-hmm.”

Vil, standing beside you, looked positively elated. You could practically feel the smug energy radiating off of him. He wasn’t even hiding his smile anymore.

Neige continued, oblivious to your complete disinterest. “I’m so glad we’ll have the chance to spend time together in the coming months! I hope we can—”

“Yeah, no, I’m good,” you interrupted, turning away and pointedly ignoring his very existence.

Neige blinked again, looking like a lost puppy. You almost felt a little bad. Almost.

Vil, on the other hand, looked like Christmas had come early. His arm slipped around your waist, his touch gentle. “I must say,” he murmured into your ear, his voice laced with amusement, “I’ve never enjoyed one of these balls quite so much.”

Yup, maybe this novel isn't that trashy after all?

Everytime you think this novel might not be that bad, it manages to prove you wrong.

The day had finally arrived: the Founding Day Ball. The event to end all events, where the kingdom’s most distinguished were honored in a grand ceremony. And, of course, at the top of the list of honorees was Vil, who might as well have been carved into the actual history of the kingdom itself with how perfect he was.

As his partner for the evening, you were dressed to the nines, dripping in elegance you didn’t even know you were capable of. When you caught your reflection in one of the massive ballroom mirrors, you had to do a double-take.

"Who is that?" you whispered, eyes wide. "Oh. It’s me."

Honestly, if there was a chance of impressing anyone here, you were impressed with yourself.

The ceremony went as expected. Vil was awarded the highest honors, his name met with thunderous applause as he gave a speech that left the crowd swooning. You found yourself half-clapping, half-gawking, wondering how this man kept getting more perfect. Like, was he actually human?

But as the evening progressed, the dreaded scene you despised the most crept into the evening, like a bad smell at a gourmet dinner.

After the ceremony, it was time for the opening dance. Naturally, Vil, being the epitome of grace and nobility, was the prime candidate to lead it. You were fully expecting him to ask you, but before he could even turn in your direction, the heroine — yes, that heroine — appeared out of nowhere, like she was materializing straight from the pages of the worst romance novel ever written.

“Vil,” she said in a voice that sounded like honey and broken promises, “I trust you’ll grant me the honor of the first dance.”

You blinked. *Excuse me?*

She said it so confidently, as if it were a foregone conclusion, like she was used to the world revolving around her whims. It was the equivalent of someone just cutting the line in front of you at the store and expecting applause for their audacity.

Vil, for his part, didn’t even flinch. His expression was as cool and elegant as ever, but you could see a flicker of amusement in his eyes.

“I’m afraid,” he said, voice smooth and polite, “I already have a partner for the first dance.”

The heroine’s face froze in a way that almost made you choke on your own breath. “W-What?” She blinked rapidly, as if her brain couldn’t process the fact that someone had just told her no.

You, too, were a little stunned, for a seperate. Was she actually planning on throwing a tantrum right now? In public? At a literal state function?

“B-But you always dance with me,” she stammered, voice rising in disbelief, her face turning an alarming shade of pink. “I’m supposed to be your first dance!”

You physically had to stop yourself from snorting. Always? He has never even looked at her for longer than five seconds! You couldn't recall a single time Vil had given her anything beyond basic pleasantries. The only reason she’d be in his line of sight was because she was constantly putting herself there.

Vil’s lips twitched slightly, though whether it was out of irritation or amusement, you couldn’t tell. “I don’t recall ever dancing with you,” he said calmly, as though she were discussing someone else entirely.

The heroine blinked, clearly taken aback. “W-What?”

Vil’s voice dropped to an even icier tone, leaving no room for misunderstanding. “In fact, I dislike the very idea of it.”

The heroine made a strangled sound behind you, like a baby bird trying to scream.

You looked around the room, half-expecting hidden cameras to pop out, because this had to be a prank. Who acts like this?!

And as you floated onto the dance floor with Vil, you couldn’t help but marvel at the absolute insufferable nature of the scene you’d just witnessed. This was, without a doubt, the moment that solidified your hatred for the trash-tier novel world you’d been trapped in. People like her actually existed here?

Behind you, the heroine stomped her foot like a petulant child, completely ignored by the crowd. It would’ve been almost sad if it wasn’t so ridiculous.

And as you twirled under the chandeliers, feeling Vil’s warmth beside you and the heroine’s tantrum echoing faintly in the background, one thing became crystal clear:

This novel may have been trash, but at least you were the one dancing with the prince of perfection.

It hit you like a ton of bricks one day—completely out of nowhere. You had been sitting in Vil’s study, watching him work. He was meticulously going over some documents, his brow furrowed in concentration, his golden hair falling perfectly in place despite him having been there for hours. You were supposed to be reading through some kingdom protocol book, but instead, your gaze kept drifting over to him.

He’s so… beautiful.

You blinked, the thought suddenly snapping you out of whatever trance you’d fallen into.

Wait…

Your eyes widened. Oh no. Oh no no no no no.

You slammed the book shut, startling Vil from his work as you stood up abruptly. “I-I need some air.”

Vil raised an elegant eyebrow, clearly amused by your sudden panic. “Something the matter?”

“No! Nothing’s the matter!” you said, far too quickly, your voice an octave higher than usual. You stumbled over your chair in your haste to get out of the room, nearly tripping on your own feet. “I just—need to—um—fresh air, yes, exactly!”

Before Vil could say anything else, you bolted from the study and down the hall, your heart racing as though you’d just run a marathon. You darted into the nearest empty room and pressed your back against the door, your mind swirling with confusion.

Am I falling for him?

You slapped a hand over your mouth, horrified by the realization. “No… no, this isn’t happening. This can’t be happening. I’m in love with a character from this awful, brain-numbing novel?”

You slumped against the door, groaning as the full weight of the situation sank in. How could this happen? How could my first true love— you gagged at the phrase —be from this trash novel?

There was no escaping it now. The butterflies in your stomach every time Vil looked your way, the way your heart skipped a beat whenever he smiled, the fact that you wanted nothing more than to be close to him… it was all painfully obvious.

You buried your face in your hands. “I’m going to die. I’m going to die of embarrassment in this ridiculous world.”

And the worst part? It wasn’t even one of the good isekai novels. You’d somehow gotten stuck in what could be considered objectively the worst one, and yet here you were, head over heels for a character who—against all odds—turned out to be the most amazing person you’d ever met.

“Oh god,” you muttered to yourself, sliding down to the floor, your head falling back against the door with a thud. “I'm in love with Vil. I’m doomed. Completely doomed.”

“Mon Dieu! What a revelation!” a voice suddenly rang out from the shadows.

You yelped, whipping around to see none other than Rook Hunt—perched in the corner of the room like some kind of overly dramatic bird of prey, his hat casting a mysterious shadow over his eyes. His entire being radiated excitement, and you swore you saw actual sparkles in the air around him.

“Rook?! How long have you been there?!”

“Long enough, my dear,” he said, voice hushed with reverence, as though you had just confessed your deepest, most tragic secret. “Ah, love! The torment, the longing! The exquisite despair you must be feeling!” He took a step forward, eyes gleaming with unbridled enthusiasm. “But fear not, mon ami, for I, Rook Hunt, shall be your faithful cupid! Together, we shall make Vil see the truth of your affections!”

You blinked, stunned. “Uh… I’m not sure that’s—"

“Ah, but you must!" Rook declared, swooping down to kneel dramatically before you. “Love, once realized, must be pursued with all one’s passion and determination! Do not let this opportunity slip through your fingers like sand in the wind! I shall assist you!”

You opened your mouth to protest, but the sheer intensity of his expression made you falter. Rook was looking at you like this was the most important mission of his life.

Honestly, what did you have to lose at this point?

With a deep, exhausted sigh, you muttered, “Fine. Fine! I’ll do it. Help me, Rook.”

Rook’s grin stretched so wide it was borderline terrifying. “Excellent! This will be an adventure for the ages!” Before you could even process what you’d agreed to, Rook leaped to his feet and clapped his hands together. “But we will need more help. A certain someone with a youthful spirit and just enough mischievousness to add that je ne sais quoi to our plans.”

Oh no.

Cue Epel.

“What the hell are you ropin’ me into?” Epel grumbled as Rook dragged him into your predicament not five minutes later.

“I have volunteered you for a most noble cause, mon petit pomme,” Rook said, not even breaking stride as he swept Epel into the room. “Our dear friend here is head over heels for our Vil, and we are going to help them win his heart”

Epel paused, blinking at you in disbelief. “Wait, Vil? That Vil?” He gestured vaguely in the direction of where Vil’s office was.

“Yes, that Vil,” you said flatly, already regretting every life decision that had led you to this point.

Epel gave you a dubious look. “And you agreed to let Rook help you?”

You groaned, dragging a hand over your face. “Don’t remind me.”

“Alright, fine. I’m in.” Epel shrugged, a wicked grin creeping onto his face. “If we’re gonna do this, we’re gonna do it big.”

Thus began the most absurd, over-the-top, and borderline catastrophic schemes in an attempt to prove your love to Vil Schoenheit.

It started innocently enough. You wanted to make Vil his favorite tea. Simple, right? But Rook insisted that it couldn’t just be any tea. No, it had to be presented with an air of mystery and allure.

“Bring it to him while reciting a sonnet of devotion!” Rook suggested. “Declare your admiration with each step, so that he understands the depth of your feelings!”

“I’m not reciting a sonnet, Rook.”

Epel, on the other hand, was far more pragmatic. “Or you could just… write him a note and leave it with the tea?”

That seemed normal. Rational. You’d take Epel’s advice. So, you snuck into Vil’s room, left the tea and a note on his desk, and slipped out before anyone noticed.

The next morning, Vil eyed you suspiciously over breakfast. “Did you leave tea in my study last night?”

You nodded, trying to play it cool. “Yeah, I thought you’d appreciate it.”

Vil’s eyes narrowed, but you swore you saw the corner of his lips twitch into the faintest smile. “I see. How thoughtful.”

Then came Operation: Compliment Vil at Every Opportunity.

Rook, of course, insisted you be poetic. “Tell him his beauty rivals the very stars in the sky!”

“I’m not saying that.”

Epel chimed in with a much more straightforward approach: “Just tell him his hair looks nice. It’s always nice.”

But Rook’s enthusiasm was contagious, and before you knew it, you found yourself blurting out, “Your radiance is blinding today, Vil! Truly, I must shield my eyes from such ethereal beauty!”

Vil, who had been in the middle of inspecting his reflection, froze. His eyes darted to you, and he gave you a strange look.

“Are you… feeling alright? Did you perhaps get bitten by a stray Rook?”

You shook your head vigorously, your face heating up from how ridiculous you sounded. “Totally fine! Just… appreciating your beauty! Yep. Normal stuff.”

Vil didn’t say anything, but you could see a hint of a smirk tugging at his lips. He looked amused—and maybe a little pleased—but more than anything, he seemed confused.

At least he didn’t think you’d lost your mind. Yet.

You were convinced this novel had it out for you from the beginning, but this? This was a new low. The memory loss trope, the final attempt to make your life as ridiculous as possible, had arrived—right on schedule.

You knew how it was supposed to go. You’d hit your head (a complete accident, obviously), wake up with no memory of Vil, and immediately make the worst decisions possible, like falling for that knockoff prince, Neige. Cue dramatic heartbreak, public humiliation, and eventual abandonment. Classic trashy novel shenanigans.

But apparently, the universe—or whatever cosmic force was in charge of your suffering—had decided to take a vacation after all the work it had been putting in. Because when you opened your eyes and saw Vil leaning over you, worry etched into his perfect face, instead of forgetting him, you were… immediately smitten?

What?

And it didn’t stop there. When he took your hand in his, gently kissing your knuckles in that heartbreakingly tender way, it was like a light switch flipped. Your memories came rushing back, completely bypassing the whole convoluted plot about amnesia and bad decisions.

Because of course in this disaster of a novel, the solution to everything was true love's kiss. The most overdone, eye-rolling cliché in the history of romance, and yet here you were, living through it.

You almost laughed out loud. Of all the tropes this novel had thrown at you—evil fiancées, jealous heroines, duels for honor—this had to be the funniest. It was as if the universe had taken one look at your situation and said, “You know what? Let’s skip the suffering and go straight to the ridiculous happy ending.”

True love’s kiss. Really. This novel is mocking me at this point, you thought, fighting the urge to scream. But hey, at least you didn’t have to deal with more drama. And as Vil’s concerned gaze softened into a relieved smile, you couldn’t help but think that, maybe, this was one trope you didn’t mind after all.

You'd almost given up on confessing. Maybe you'll just live like this forever, your fate was sealed. The novel clearly doesn't want you to tell him how you feel.

But there was another ball (because apparently that's the only place that nobility had be at in this novel. What was this? the 108th ball of the year?) You'd decided that you'll ask him for a stroll under the moonlight and just tell him.

Of course, the novel is not on your side. What's new?

The ball was going well—well, for you and Vil, anyway. You’d just finished dancing, and he looked absolutely stunning, as usual. You were basking in the afterglow of all the whispered praise and envious stares. That is, until you overheard someone bad-mouthing Vil.

Of course, it had to be the heroine’s best friend, who was apparently using this grand occasion to air her grievances.

“I just don’t understand why Vil is always so cold to her,” she whined, loud enough for everyone within a three-mile radius to hear. “She’s the saintess! She deserves kindness and adoration, not disdain.”

Cue the dramatic gasps from the crowd. Ah, here we go.

You shot Vil a look, but he merely shrugged, rolling his eyes. He clearly didn’t want to start any trouble. But you? Oh, you were about to flip the table on these idiots.

“Excuse me,” you began, stepping forward, the crowd parting like the Red Sea as you made your way over. “I couldn’t help but overhear your incredibly loud complaints about my fiancé.”

The heroine’s best friend froze, clearly not expecting you to get involved. You smiled sweetly, but your eyes were throwing daggers.

“Let me set the record straight. Vil isn’t cold to her because she’s the ‘saintess,’” you air-quoted the title, “He’s cold to her because she’s an insufferable brat who’s so used to getting her way that she throws a tantrum every time someone says ‘no.’”

More gasps from the crowd. You could see Neige stiffening across the ballroom, already sensing where this was going. But there was no stopping you now.

“And don’t get me started on you,” you pointed at the best friend, your tone dripping with sarcasm. “You’re out here defending her honor like you’re some knight in shining armor when, let’s be real, you’re just as bad. You fawn over her like a lost puppy, expecting her to shower you with praise when all you do is enable her delusions.”

Vil, somewhere behind you, was probably trying not to laugh. But you weren't done.

“And as for your precious Neige over there?” you tilted your head toward the prince-wannabe, who was looking more and more uncomfortable by the second. “He’s not some perfect angel either. He’s just a guy with an unsettling talent for showing up at the most convenient times, with that same doe-eyed, clueless expression, making everyone feel sorry for him.”

You didn’t stop at Neige.

"And as for you," you said, spinning toward the brooding Duke of the North, the infamous second male lead, who had been leaning against a pillar, looking every bit the tall, tormented, handsome cliché. “You’re not fooling anyone either. You’re the king of melodramatic entrances. Always lurking in the shadows, trying to look mysterious, but really, you’re just sulking because no one’s paying attention to you.”

“Oh, I’m sorry—are you brooding? Again? Let me guess, you’re thinking about some dark secret that you’ll drop at the most inconvenient moment to make things worse for everyone, right?” You mimicked his deep, serious voice. “‘It’s the burden I must bear… alone.’” You threw your head back in mock agony, hands dramatically placed on your chest.

He straightened up, clearly offended, but you didn’t give him the chance to speak.

“And stop pretending like you’re some tragic hero,” you added, lowering your voice with a sharp edge. “You’re just a guy with commitment issues who sacrifices himself because you can’t handle the fact that the heroine doesn’t want you. Let it go.”

There was dead silence. You half-expected a chandelier to drop just for the dramatic effect. Even Vil had to look away for a moment, probably to hide the fact that he in tears, about to burst out laughing.

The heroine was slack-jawed, her best friend looked like she wanted to melt into the floor, and Neige… well, Neige just looked confused. As always.

Satisfied, you dusted off your hands and turned back to Vil, who was looking at you with a mixture of shock and awe, as if he’d just witnessed some divine intervention.

You let out a satisfied huff and turned to leave. "Come on, Vil, I can't stand to be in the same room as these second-rate characters any longer, let's bounce"

Once outside, you saw Vil was still recovering, a smirk pulling at his lips. “I think you may have traumatized half the ballroom.”

“Good,” you huffed, crossing your arms. “They deserved it. Especially that brooding Duke. ‘I sacrifice myself for the greater good.’ Ugh, give me a break.”

Vil chuckled, sliding his arm around your waist. "Still, you didn’t have to go to such lengths for me."

You stopped in your tracks, spun around, and looked him dead in the eye. “Of course I did! I love you, Vil. I couldn’t just sit there and let them trash you like that.”

The moment the words left your mouth, you froze. Oh. Well. There it was.

Vil’s eyes widened, a rare, unguarded expression crossing his face. For a moment, he just stood there, taking in your words. Then, without a word, he cupped your face in his hands and kissed you, soft but sure, like he’d been waiting for this moment as much as you had.

When he pulled back, his smile was the softest you’d ever seen. “You love me,” he repeated, almost like he couldn’t believe it.

You nodded, a bit breathless from both the confession and the kiss. “Yes, Vil. I love you. Even with all your ridiculously high standards and obsession with skincare.”

Vil laughed, the sound warm and genuine. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to hear you say that.”

Vil pulled back slightly, his hands still resting on your waist, and asked with a quiet, almost teasing tone, "Well then, since you love me so much... should we get married?"

You blinked, your brain taking a second to catch up. "Wait—what? Married? Like, right now?" You stared at him, heart racing, before suddenly, an idea lit up your face like a firework. “Oh my god, yes! Let’s do it. Let’s get married ASAP. Like, today. Right now. Do we even need a ceremony? We can find an officiant and—boom—done. Just tell me where to sign!”

Vil’s eyes widened, taken aback by your sudden enthusiasm. “Are you… serious?”

You grabbed his hand, absolutely buzzing with energy. “Of course, I’m serious! Why wait? This dumbass universe keeps throwing garbage tropes at us, and honestly? Getting married right now is the perfect way to flip the script! Take that, fate!"

Before Vil could respond, an overly excited voice erupted from behind a nearby pillar. “Oh là là! Mon cœur can hardly handle this romance!” Rook leaped out from the shadows, practically sparkling with joy, as if he had been waiting for this very moment all his life. "The passion! The declaration of love! And now, a spontaneous wedding? Magnifique!”

“Rook!?” Vil’s voice was a mix of amusement and exasperation. “Have you been spying on us?”

“Spying?” Rook gasped dramatically, placing a hand on his chest. “Non, non, Vil! I was merely ensuring your well-being as any devoted friend would!” He gave a wink, clearly pleased with his role as an unintended audience.

“Me too!” Epel poked his head out from behind another pillar, grinning sheepishly. “I mean, who’d wanna miss out on somethin’ like this? Y’all are gettin’ married!”

Vil let out a long, tired sigh, but you could see the faintest smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “I can’t believe this is happening,” he muttered.

“Oh, it’s happening,” you said, grabbing his arm again and dragging him forward. “We’re doing this, and it’s going to be the best wedding in this entire stupid book, Rook, Epel, you’re both invited. Wait, scratch that, you’re both in the wedding party now!”

“C’est incroyable!” Rook twirled dramatically, hands clasped together, already imagining his outfit for the occasion. “I shall be the most loyal and stylish groomsman! Oh, l’amour!”

“And I get to wear somethin’ fancy, right?” Epel asked, already envisioning something much cooler than his usual attire.

Vil was now fully grinning, his initial surprise turning into genuine amusement as he looked at you with sparkling eyes. “You really are something else.”

“Yeah, and now I’m gonna be your something else forever.” You beamed up at him, still holding onto his hand like you might drag him to the altar yourself right now.

“Well then,” Vil sighed, leaning down to kiss your forehead. “Let’s get married.”

Before you could even start plotting where to drag Vil to find someone to officiate, Rook suddenly gasped, clasping his hands together dramatically. "Mon dieu! How could I forget? I am more than prepared for this moment!"

You and Vil exchanged puzzled looks. "What are you talking about, Rook?" Vil asked, raising a perfectly shaped eyebrow.

Rook grinned, remviong his hat and and dramatically pulling out a folded piece of parchment. "Behold!" he announced, waving the paper with a flourish. "A certified license to officiate weddings. I took the liberty of acquiring it long ago, knowing that one day I’d be the one to unite you and your beloved. C’est le destin!"

“You’re… licensed?” Vil blinked, looking at Rook like he had officially lost it. "And you're walking around with the license in your hat?"

Rook nodded with a dazzling smile. “Why yes, I’ve been preparing for this glorious day! Every flower petal, every gust of wind, every glance of love I’ve witnessed between you both has been leading to this fated moment!” He struck a pose, the parchment still dramatically held aloft.

You stared at him, then back at Vil. "Okay, I know this is ridiculous, but honestly? This is the funniest thing I’ve ever heard, and I kind of love it. Let's just let him do it."

Vil put a hand to his forehead, trying to suppress a chuckle. "Are we really doing this?"

“Yes!” you declared, squeezing Vil's hand. “If we’re going full chaos, we’re going all the way. Rook, officiate the hell out of this wedding!”

Epel, watching the entire spectacle, burst into laughter. “Only in this house, I swear…”

Rook practically sparkled with joy, bouncing on his feet. “Oh là là, it will be my greatest honor! I’ve been rehearsing my officiating speech in front of the mirror for months”

“Months?” Vil repeated, a mix of disbelief and exasperation in his tone.

“Mais oui! Every day, I’d wake up and say, ‘Today could be the day!’” Rook sighed dramatically, already tearing up. “And here we are. It’s everything I’ve ever dreamed of. Now, shall we begin? I have the vows prepared, unless you have your own?”

You leaned into Vil, barely holding back laughter. “I have zero regrets about this. Absolutely zero.”

Vil sighed again but couldn’t stop smiling. “Only you could make something this absurd seem perfect.”

Series Masterlist ; Masterlist

Okay, this became way longer than I expected it to be but to be fair, i was on an extreme caffeine high and i'd just finished an assignment that had been beating my ass

also sorry for the neige slander, I don't hate him but vdc broke me

#Vil x reader #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst #twst x reader #au: nobility #vil schoenheit #vil schoenheit x reader #trash novel chronicles #fem reader

2K notes · View notes

kisses4themissus · 15 days ago

Text

before mr & mrs... | Hwang In-ho x Reader

word count: 4.1k a/n: so tell me whatcha all think of their backstory pls pairing: hwang in-ho x fem!reader !! not proof-read properly !!

Masterlist | more of this couple

“Have you seen player 132?” il-nam asked you, he sat in his armchair, watching players drop to their deaths.

You didn’t look up from your binder you had filled of game ideas. “No, i haven't; i’ve not paid much attention to any of them really.” You said honestly, walking over to il-nam and handed him your latest sketch of a game concept.

“He has potential, he didn’t hesitate to kill his teammate; it’s like someone i know all over again” He chuckled as you gave him a unimpressed look. “I was left with the bitch of my team, of course i was going to take the chance to take her head.” You sighed, sitting down beside il-nam in your own chair.

“We could use him.” il-nam pointed to the man on the screen, you looked up and studied the man on screen. He was very handsome, he was also very set on winning these games for his wife.

You bit your lip as he laughed along with other players, you turned back to il-nam. “Tomorrow i’ll start preparing the room for the VIPs..” You informed the host before excusing yourself to the office of files. Once the door was shut you went through files for the news players to find more out about player 132.

You had brought the files with you to your bedroom and read up on the player as you settled in for bed. It had been disappointing when you saw he had entered the games for is wife and unborn child; to pay for her liver transplant. You had turned to your walkie talkie on your nightstand and switched to another channel.

“Get me as much info as you can on player 132’s wife.” You spoke into the walkie talkie and immediately got a confirmation by the recruiter; a close friend of yours, who you had grown close while you both worked for il-nam as workers.

“Right away, game planner..”

- - - - - - - -

Days later, you watched from the control room as another game was played as you planned it, you watched with a big grin.

“Chipper as always..” The recruiter chuckled as he walked into the vip room with a file in hand. “Always a pleasure seeing you, now hand it over!” You smirked at your friend and held your hand out which he took with his free hand and kissed the back, making you chuckle at his flirty advances.

“Now, I believe you requested these.” He handed you the files, a squeal left your mouth as you opened the file up and began reading over the report. Your eyes quickly ran over the page as you finally landed on the words you had secretly hoped would be there. “I have to show il-nam!” You closed the file and kissed the recruiter on his cheek before patting the other side. “I love you!” You squealed as you exited the control room and walked to il-nam’s penthouse.

You scanned your badge you had clipped to your shirt and was granted access. You knocked on the old man’s room door. “Come in.” He sighed out, fidgeting with his tie. “I have news about your possible winner!” You handed over the folder, he took it and read over the report and sighed before walking over to his tv and shuffled through the cameras to show the players eating their breakfast.

“He’ll be even more convinced to join you if his whole reason for winning this game is dead.” You pointed out, sitting on the arm of the chair.

il-nam nodded and grinned at you. “Good job, finding this.”

You bowed your head in thanks. You looked down at your watch and checked the time. “VIPs should be landing here in the next hour, sir.” you informed, getting up from the arm and walked to a cabinet he had in his penthouse, you unlocked the cabinet and pulled out his gold bedazzled owl mask, he would wear in front of the VIPs.

“I assume you haven’t seen your gift?” il-nam asked, a small smile on his face. You tilted your head confused. “You got me a gift?” You questioned, the old man nodded at you. “Your gift is on your bed.”

With that you left off to your level that was your space, you quickly walked into your room and squealed as a white 3D matte mask laid on your bed. You picked it up and smiled at it.

“For my brilliant gameplanner.” - Host

You noticed the coat that laid on the back of your vanity chair. You looked around your bedroom for your outfit for the VIPs.

- - - - - - - -

You sighed as you pulled off your gloves as you walked to the elevators, you scanned your badge and pressed your floor.

It was another year of sadistic games you had planned out. You quickly placed your things away. As you hung up your clothes you heard the faint call from your walkie talkie you had left on your kitchen table. You sighed and walked to the kitchen and picked up.

“Gameplanner, the host is requesting you to his penthouse.” A manager called out, you answered briefly, grabbing your white mask and game binder, before walking to the elevators. You pressed il-nam’s floor which was the highest on the panel. You sighed, as the elevator stopped, the doors opened to show the recruiter; he smiled at you as he entered.

“Gameplanner.” He greeted, taking your hand and bring it to his lips. “Recruiter!” You smiled back. “il-nam called you up too?” He asked, pressing il-nam’s floor. “Yep, probably wants to discuss players and games..” You guessed.

As elevators opened to show il-nam’s house. You both walked into the penthouse and walked to his living room where he sat, someone with him, their back to you both.

“You called?” You asked, the old man smiled as he motioned for the other person. “This is our newest member.” The stranger stood up and faced you both. You and the recruiter recognized the man in front of you. “Ah, player 132! I’m glad you’ve taken il-nam’s offer.” The recruiter smiled at the man, holding out his hand.

The ex-player shook his hand. “The salesman, wouldn’t have made it here if you didn't give me that card.” He charmingly smiled.

il-nam chuckled at the two before turning towards you, “In-ho, this is our game planner, she’s also a former winner of the games; player 033.” In-ho raised an eyebrow as you held a blank face and stuck out your hand and firmly shook his. “Nice to meet you.” You greeted, taking you hand back and held closely to your binder.

“What will be his job exactly?” The recruiter questioned, you both looked as il-nam smiled at you three. “In-ho will help out with the staff, more specifically the soldiers, you see he’s a former cop!” il-nam explained, making you and the recruiter raise your brows at the job.

“Oh, il-nam i have the layout of games this year!” You perked up and opened your binder, in-ho watched as you flipped to a page and laid it down on the table for all to see.

In-ho read over the pages, he watched as you smiled at il-nam’s praises. You had been the sadist, who created the monstrous games, many players had threaten to kill you if they had gotten out of the game. “Impressive work.” In-ho complimented.

“Thank you!” You nodded before turning to il-nam. “I need to go unpack my things but just have the workers return it to me.” You smiled at the old man before excusing yourself back to your floor.

- - - - - - - -

It had been weird for another person to be in the control room with you. You had placed in-ho on cameras while you watched the players in their dorm, teams had begin to form liked you hoped. “How long have you worked for the host?” In-ho questioned as you both watched players bond.

“Three years ago, I was offered after I had won, didn’t even get to play the final game, killed the girl in the dorm after she tried to suffocate me in my sleep.” you explained, tapping on the board in font of you. Several camera footage popped up on the screens.

“You know, a lot of players curse you out for creating such terror.” His words made you chuckle. “I’ve heard, you get used to it after one game.” You smiled at him for the first time. In-ho stared at you, a small smile on his face. You quickly dropped the smile and cleared your throat.

“I need to go figure out the lighting for one of the games, excuse me..” You brushed past in-ho and walked out of the control room.

- - - - - - - -

In-ho watched carefully as you and il-nam watched players fight for their lives, you had a content smile while the concept worked perfectly; your walkie talkie crackled on the kitchen table, you popped up and walked over with a smile as a deep voice went through.

“Wonderful work as always gameplanner.” The recruiter compliment, making you chuckle before walking to the hall to continue talking without disrupting the game.

In-ho turned to il-nam who watch the games with glee. “Are they together?” He asked, making il-nam turned to him confused.

“The recruiter and the planner, i mean.” In-ho clarified, il-nam glanced back at you and noticed how happy you were and shrugged.

“They’ve been close since they both started working for me, who’s to know…they might even be married?” Il-nam guessed, thinking back to how you both always threw flirty glances and even affection every time you had been around each other.

In-ho nodded and sat back in his chair, his mind drifting off into what your relationship could be with the recruiter.

A few minutes had passed and you walked back to your chair, a smile still on your face. “Sorry gentlemen, the recruiter was just giving feedback!” You bowed your head to the pair apologetically, il-nam smiled and wave you off.

As you all watched the game finish, il-nam had gotten up and walked to his bedroom for the night, leaving you and in-ho alone in the penthouse. You both ad began to pick up, you collected the drink glasses while in-ho stacked the paperwork in order. A peaceful silence fell over the room, the sound of glass lightly clinking and the water running filled the background.

“So, is he your husband?” In-ho questioned, handing you another glass. You glanced over, confused. “Who?” You tiled your head.

“The recruiter, i mean you both seem close.” In-ho watched as you chuckled, setting the freshly washed cups in the drying rack. “And be mrs recruiter?” You smiled and laughed a bit.

“Never, i only humor him, when we were workers together I had a massive crush on him.” You turned to in-ho grinning. “Why do you ask?” You raised a brow, hoping he’d confess.

“Nothing, il-nam wanted to know what were you both exactly.” He lied, you sighed and nodded. “Make sense, il-nam always tried pushing us together, he told us many, many years ago he saw the recruiter as a younger son who couldn’t see the pretty girl in front of him.” You chuckled at the memory, making in-ho nod, he quietly took in your relaxed features.

“Why did you join the games?” In-ho questioned, quickly noticing how you tensed up for a second before responding. “My situation wasn’t perfect, forced to marry some older guy for money; said guy didn’t earn money legally.” You paused, your memories coming back, you paused holding onto the sink. “He was nice and loving to me at first, then one day I had found out the truth of his source of income, he threated to kill me if i ever said anything.” You paused.

In-ho watched as you avoided his gaze and continued to look at the glass cup. “Turns out there was a rat in his little group, they all thought it was me…I think you know what happened next, I had nothing, so i got offered to play the games, won and divorced the asshole once i had gotten out.” You finished explaining. In-ho went to talk but you cut him off.

You quickly dried your hands before turing to in-ho. “I need to go to bed, goodnight in-ho.” You nodded and excused yourself to the elevators.

- - - - - - - -

The next morning, the VIPs would arrive, you had prepared everything to be perfect. In-ho sighed as he walked into the luxury room, you stood in the middle, directing the waiters.

“Ah, in-ho perfect timing!” You smiled and walked over to him. “What do you think?” You grinned, showing off your newest game idea, the room had been decorated like the outdoors, an adult sized playground filled the area, other playground toys littered around. ”What game is it?” In-ho asked, confused to the playground.

“The floor’s lava.” You smirked and pressed a button on the control panel, the floor had begin to pull back, the playground structures stood tall, in-ho smirked as it would drop players to their deaths. He grinned and nodded at you. “Amazing!” He chuckled as you pressed the button once more and the floor moved back into place.

“Thank you.” You smiled, looking at in-ho. You both stared at each other with admiration; In-ho cleared his throat and excused himself to the control room, you nodded and watched as he walked out of the room. You sighed, placing a hand on your forehead, it was foolish to think he’d move on from his wife that fast.

“Troubles?” Il-nam questioned, walking into the room. You shook your head and sat down on the nearest sofa. “It’s nothing.” You tried to dismiss, il-nam chuckled and sat down beside you. “You have this look where it isn’t, now what is it?” The old man smiled, comfortingly at you. With a sigh you turned to il-nam. “I thought in-ho and I would be closer by now, I mean we both work around each other constantly, ask each other for everything; I mean he got me to open up about my first marriage.” You sighed, placing your head in your hands.

Il-nam chuckled and patted your back. “Seems i have a new blind daughter?”

At his words you picked up your head and looked at il-nam confused. “What do you mean?” you questioned. The old man just chuckled at you.

“He looks at you with much more then admiration.” Il-nam smiled at you. The old man quickly got up from the couch and helped you up before turning to the entrance. “The VIPs should be here anytime now; go get ready.”

You nodded at il-nam and got up to go get dressed.

- - - - - - - -

The soft clicks of your heels filled the control room, you walked over to the control panel and watched as the players began to wake up. You silently looked over the monitors before turning back to the elevator doors. You stopped as in-ho walked into the room, a black matte 3D mask on him.

“Looks nice.” You complimented, he bowed his head, in thanks. “Now i’m official.” He joked, making you smile, you leaned over and fixed his collar which had flipped up due to the mask. “Now you look perfect.” You sighed, smiling at in-ho under your mask.

- - - - - - - -

Another year of twisted children’s games had arrived, you were excited as always. You sat in the limo as il-nam had his driver pick you up from your small apartment. “Are we heading straight to the island?” You questioned, digging through your bag for your binder. “Actually, we have another to pick up.” Il-nam smiled at your confused look.

The limo pulled up in front of a small convenience store with apartments above, you hadn’t looked up from your binder, too busy making notes for the games that were to be played that year. The limo door opened and quickly shut.

“Good evening.” In-ho greeted. You looked up from your binder and smiled at in-ho’s appearance. His hair was now combed back, his eyebags had disappeared; he seemed more put together then he did the previous year. “In-ho.” You greeted, in-ho scooted closer to you in the limo, leaving il-nam by himself on the opposite side, the old man smiled and sipped his champagne.

You tried to focus back on your notes while in-ho and il-nam went over their time apart, you had listened as il-nam and in-ho talked about the newest players.

“The recruiter told me this year is a good batch.” You chimed in, flipping the binder page, viewing the photos il-nam had sent to you as the workers built the stage for the games. Both the other men nodded at your words and began talking over the workers.

You watched as the limo loaded onto the boat, you sighed. Laying back in your sleep you slowly drifted off as the distance sound of the waves hit your ears.

In-ho leaned back a bit, a glass of whiskey in his hand. Il-nam chuckled as your head slowly reached in-ho’s shoulder, “I suggest we need cameras in the-!” In-ho stopped himself as your head laid on his shoulder, he quickly fixed your head to be comfortable before leaning back further.

“You two are cute together.” Il-nam grinned, finishing off his glass before placing it in the cup holder. In-ho smiled bashfully, lookin over to see you peacefully asleep; you had stressed over the games to even properly sleep.

“I don’t think she sees us like that.” In-ho sighed out, il-nam laughed at his words.

“You both are blind; she hasn’t looked at anyone with that look since she was a circle worker.” Il-nam confessed, both men watched as you fidgeted in your sleep but soon stopped as in-ho wrapped and arm around your shoulder to bring you in closer.

“You think so?”

“Oh i know it.”

- - - - - - - -

The three all stood in the control room as the players photos popped up under your feet. You nodded as the board began to fill up. As you paced the board; you stopped as a familiar face posed right below your heel.

“Gameplanner?” In-ho asked, noticing your reaction to a player, he looked down confused at the player and took note of the number before ushing you to the control panel to fix the game’s lighting.

Later that night in-ho had walked to the office where all files of players and their backgrounds where kept and began to go through the computer in hopes to find the player that stunned you earlier.

Player 068, or as you knew him as your first husband. Apparently the man had been caught with his illegal money and was sentenced; once out he was attacked by loan sharks who he had grown a massive debt to, leading him to join the games.

In-ho scoffed at the photo, it was the same asshole who almost killed you. Quickly in-ho logged off and walked back to the elevators and pressed the button for your floor.

You quietly made tea in your small kitchen, you had been shook up the rest of the day, shocked to see your ex make it out of the first game. The sound of shoes came from behind you.

You turned and was surprised to see in-ho in your floor of the building. “What are you doing here?” You questioned, grabbing two mugs down from the cabinet.

“I wanted to see if you were alright after earlier, you seemed stunned.” He explained, setting down his black mask on your table, you sighed and brought him a cup of tea and sat down in front of him. “I’m sorry, seeing someone you didn’t expect to show up will do that to you…” You sipped on your chamomile tea. In-ho sighed and scooted his chair closer to you.

“He can’t do anything anymore, you have power in the control room to kill him within the first second of the next game, i’ll even tell the soldiers to have him killed in the dorm right now if you wish.” In-ho placed his hand on your knee making you breakdown as he looked at you while concern and love in his eyes.

You threw yourself into him and cried into his shoulder.

“He didn’t even suffer the way i did..” You cried, wiping your tears as they fell. In-ho shushed you and rubbed the back of your head in comfort. “It’s alright.” In-ho reassured.

- - - - - - - -

Days had passed and you were slowly getting back to your regular personality, since that night you had noticed in-ho had rarely left your side, he’d even began to sleep on your couch while you slept in your bedroom, to reassure your fear that your ex would attack you in the night.

You sighed as you peacefully laid in your bed, your room door opened giving you the perfect view of in-ho who laid propped up on your couching reading whatever book you had laying around. You played with your comforter before tugging it away from you, slipping on your slippers you walked over to the couch and tapped in-ho’s shoulder.

“Come laid down with me?” You asked, making in-ho stopped breathing, you had looked beautiful, messy bedhead, your silk pajamas, the look of love in your eyes. “Of course.” He nodded and followed as you walked into your bedroom.

He took in the decor as he got into the bed behind you, he hesitated to place his arm over your waist. You turned around to face him and smiled shyly before wrapping his arm around your waist. “Il-nam would lose it if he saw us together right now.” In-ho commented making you chuckle and nod. “He would go “i knew you two would be good together”, typical matchmaker…” You both chuckled at your impression of the old man.

In-ho moved his hand to cup the back of your head and rested it on his chest. You both peacefully fell asleep. You wished it had been a peaceful night.

You both were woken up to the sound of the managers voices coming from the walkie talkies. “Frontman? Gameplanner?” In-ho grabbed the device from your bedside and answered, you got up and grabbed your coat.

“A player had gotten loose, we’ve trapped him in the red light field!” They informed you both. “Which player?” In-ho questioned, “Player 068 sir.”

You watched as in-ho got up from your bed and walked to the living room and got dressed, you following behind him, your white mask in your hand. As he was on autopilot, in-ho walked to the field, his gun in hand and you following behind.

The doors opened to show the pink managers and soldiers surrounding the player. In-ho knelt down to look at the man. “Trying to leave?” He asked, his gloved hand roughly grabbing the players jaw. The man didn’t speak and just shook his head in fear of the masked man. “Did you let your ex-wife go?” In-ho asked, holding the man in a tight grip.

In-ho looked at the man with disgust under his mask, cocking his gun he stopped and turned to the crowd and found you standing behind soldiers. “Gameplanner, why don’t you get this pleasure.” In-ho stood up and held his hand out to you.

You took his hand and walked to face your ex-husband, your mask forgotten on the dirt floor.

The man looked at you, pleading to live. “C’mon honey, remember the good times we had!” He tried to grab your coat but in-ho stomped on the man’s hand making him yell out in pain. “You bitch, having men do your dirty work!” He yelled out, without heistain you stood tall and aimed the gun.

BOOM!

You watched as his body fell back, blood spilling on the dirt. You turned to see in-ho with a unreadable look, his mask now on the ground as he glared at the body.

“In-ho.” You watched as he turned to you and quickly wrapped you in a hug and kissed your cheeks as tear began to fall; your ex-husband was finally gone, now longer haunting your mind. “I’m here, i have you.” He reassured, you pulled back and stared at in-ho with admiration and leaned in.

In-ho chuckled and kissed your tenderly, ignoring as the pink workers and soldiers began to clean up. “I’ll alway keep you from harm.” In-ho whispered against your lips making you kiss him once more eagerly.

- - - - - - - -

Il-nam chuckled as you both stood in front of a courthouse, your marriage certificate in hands you both kissed for the photo.

“It's a good photo of you both!” The old man smiled at in-ho who chuckled at the framed photo on his desk.

“Thank you.” In-ho thanked him before searching through paperwork.

“Gentlemen.” A smooth voice made the pair look up to see the recruiter in his suit. In-ho and il-nam shook his hand in greeting before they all dove into paperwork of the next game.

A bit had gone by before the front door to in-ho's and your shared apartment opened. You were greeted to the sight of the three men crowding over your dining table. With a chuckle you placed down your bag on the couch and watched them go over plans.

“Gameplanner.” The recruiter smiled and kissed your hand. From the corner of your eye you smirked as in-ho leaned back in his chair watching you both, but playing it as if he was stretching. “Getting close to my wife?” In-ho questioned as you both parted away from each other.

You chuckled as the recruiter fixed his tie and hair before sitting back down. “It’s only a greeting to the mrs frontman..” The recruiter tried to defend, making il-nam chuckle at the reactions.

In-ho smirked while you gave the recruiter a look of distaste, “He should be mr gameplanner, i’ve had my title longer!” You scoffed, sitting down next to your husband.

“Alright then, it was a simple greeting to mrs gameplanner.”

You smiled at the re-wording and went back to helping il-nam with the scattered papers.

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#frontman x reader #hwang inho x reader #squid game x reader #player 001 x reader #frontman x you #hwang inho #squid game x you #young il x reader #in ho x reader #lee byung hun x reader

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tinyowlthoughts · 1 year ago

Text

The EC-Theobromine: Chocolate

"Ugh, I would kill for some chocolate right now."

Gorvan fumbled the holopad he'd been typing on, all four hands brushing against the screen as he tried to keep it from hitting the ship floor. He failed and it bounced off the tiles - thankfully neither breaking, nor denting the flooring. Grimacing, he swept it up with his tail and checked over the casing, before the alarming words registered in his head. A glance at the couch showed the human - Max - hadn't moved - still twisted up in their weird, pretzely way, chin in their weird five-fingered hand as they peered at the passing stars with a far-away look in their eyes.

"You, uh, want...chocolate?" He asked, certain he'd misheard.

"Oh my god, yes." Max heaved a sigh, shoulders rising to their weird, inefficient ears before dropping back down. "Jesus, I'd even eat a Hershey's Bar right now."

Gorvan gripped his tablet with two of his hands, hard enough to crack the casing. "Oh, um - what is a 'Hershey'?"

Max didn't look away from the window, still lost gazing into the galaxy. "It's a type of chocolate bar from Earth. Maybe a Mars Bar or a Milky Way would be better..."

Gorvan huffed through his nostrils, tail lashing anxiously behind him. "Oh. Um. I - er, I forgot I have a meeting with Captain! I have to go." Without waiting for an answer he turned and fled the recreation room, hooved feet clattering against the floor, desperate to report what he had heard. He missed the bemused look Max gave him before returning to his star gazing.

🍫🌌🍫🌌🍫🌌🍫🌌🍫🌌🍫🌌🍫🌌🍫

"Max."

The human paused upon entering the meeting room, seeing the rest of the C7H8N4O2 Star Explorer gathered around the table. All eight were tense in their seats, and the moth-like Elaana looked like she'd been crying. (Well, the species equivalent, which appeared as a dusting of pollen along her sharp cheekbones.)

Taurvin, the captain, was sitting in the largest seat at the head of the table, his considerable bulk looming over the rest of them. Oddly, the first-mate seat to his left was empty. Gorvan was instead sitting in Max's own.

"Uh, hey all. We playing musical chairs?" Max glanced between the empty chair and Gorvan, but when nobody asked for an explanation to their odd human reference (a common occurrence), they figured it wasn't the time for jokes.

"Have a seat, Max." Taurvin motioned to the first mate seat and, with a bit of hesitation, Max moved to take it. Luckily Gorvan, despite being bulky himself, wasn't too much larger than a standard human and the chair was comfortable enough. "We have something important to address."

Oh god above, what had they done this time? Max tried to think back to all the interactions he'd had onboard the last few weeks, but couldn't come up with anything too egregious. Sure, there was the whole joke with 'human snot is acidic' thing but that had been more of a gross-out joke for Elaana, the ships medic, who hadn't seemed to upset when he accidentally sneezed on her a few days later and dropped the act. Epitak, the ships engineer, had been pretty pissed when ze found out Max had taken apart the air filtration unit in their quarters to try and understand how it worked, but ze had also walked him through repairing it, so they thought it was all forgiven.

Oh jeeze, had they found the plans to get a kitten onboard under the 'emotional assistance animal' loophole?

"Max." Taurvin's normally jolly voice was grave, and all the crews eyes were on them as he spoke. "It has come to my attention that you have been expressing some...troubling thoughts."

Okay, definitely the kitten thing then. "Look, I can explain," they started, but Taurvin held up a large, three-fingered hand and stopped them.

"I do not want you to feel pressured to speak to us if you do not wish to. As a member of the Intergalactic Exploration Society, you have access to mental health resources at no cost, any time, anywhere. I will be more than happy to assist you in setting up a link to a therapist through HR and, if required, will grant you time off the ship if you need it. You are the best navigator I have ever seen, and I do not want to lose you."

"Well, thanks, but uh, what do you mean?" Max glanced around the table and noticed that their normally upbeat crew were all showing signs of distress (Elaana was brushing away newly fallen pollen from her compound eyes).

"Max, you requested chocolate." Gorvan reminded them. "This morning, you said you would even eat a substance known as a Hershey Bar from your home planet." The human had never heard the first mate sound so distressed. When Max just blinked, Epitak took over, beak clacking anxiously as ze spoke.

"We understand that many planets have government programs in place for self euthanasia," ze explained, technical as always in his word choice, "but we aboard this ship would much rather assist you in healing rather than lose you, despite what you may feel is best for you. Suicide by theobromine is not the way forward."

"...what."

"It's okay, love!" The pollen was flowing freely from Elaana's eyes now, and she blinked it away with her long lashes. If there weren't a table between them, Max was sure she would have bundled them up in a full-wing hug and refused to let them go. "We'll support you through it all, we promise. You're part of our crew - our family, and we never want you to feel otherwise!"

"Well, uh, thanks. I see you all as family too...?" Max glanced at the four remaining crew members. Dhaca and Lenzoill were quiet but obviously upset, Qhals was staring at the ceiling with their fanged muzzle pulled into a tight grimace, and Ir'ith was -

Ir'ith was smirking.

Max narrowed their eyes at the inventory manager who also served as the ships cook (for the simple fact that he was the only one onboard who could cook). The zad merely shrugged when their eyes met, though his grin was growing.

"I think I'm missing something here." Max admitted, looking between Gorvan and Taurvin. "This is all because I got a chocolate craving?"

"A craving?" Elaana almost lunged across the table at the word, the only thing holder her back Ir'ith's hand on her shoulder. "You mean you've had chocolate before?"

"Well, yeah? All the time." Max was not expecting the horrified expressions they received.

"So humans treat theobromine as a drug?" Epitak asked, aghast.

"Noooo...? It's a dessert. Like, a sweet treat." Max had no idea what was going on now, but by the way Ir'ith's shoulders were shaking, he did. "Hershey's is a candy bar."

"Wait," Dhaca finally spoke up, leaning forward and shoving his glasses (well, glass - one lens for one eye and all) to the top of his head, "theobromine is not toxic to humans?"

"I'm assuming that theo-stuff is chocolate?" When Dhaca nodded, Max nodded in return. "Yeah, no, chocolate isn't toxic to humans. I ate it all the time on Earth."

Ir'ith gave up and cackled, sounding a bit like the grackles Max used to watch in their back garden on Earth. The avian's wings flapped a few times as he laughed, having to lean forward and grasp his stomach with taloned claws to keep himself from falling out of his chair. When he finally glanced up at Max, it was to the flattest look the human could manage, which only sent him into another gale of laughter.

Taurvin sighed, pinching the bridge of his boar-like snout. "I believe this has all been a misunderstanding," he spoke over the cooks laughter, which had turned into squeaky gasps. "Dismissed."

A few befuddled glances were thrown Max's way, but the rest of the crew were quick to leave, avoiding Ir'ith's flapping wings as they squeezed out of the room. Soon only the cook, first mate, captain, and navigator were left.

"Sorry, kid." Ir'ith finally came up for breath, wiping at his eyes as he regained his composure. He fished into one of the many pockets that adorned his poncho and produced a bar wrapped in purple foil, which he tossed to Max. The human caught it and felt their whole face light up. "No hard feelings, right?"

"None at all, dude!" Max tore open the wrapping and took a big bite of the Cadbury Dairy Milk Bar, nearly melting at the familiar, sweet flavor exploding on their tongue.

"For the record," Ir'ith said as he stood, cracking his back, "Zad's can eat chocolate to. Let me know next time you have a craving." He sauntered out of the room, humming happily.

The three sat in silence for a moment, other than the crinkle of the chocolate bar wrapper. Finally, Taurvin cleared his throat.

"Max, I apologize for not conferring with you in private beforehand." The captain sighed. "I did not wish to embarrass you, but an intervention was suggested and I believed that comfort from your crew would be the best way to show the seriousness of our support were you truly entertaining the thought of self euthanasia."

The human shrugged. "It was nice to hear you all care about me, even though I've only been on board a few months," they admitted. "And I got chocolate out of it." He wiggled the remains of the bar.

"Still, if you ever feel the need for mental health services, they are available to you. And if there is ever anything I or the rest of the crew can do to assist you in that way, please don't hesitate to ask." Taurvin placed a hand on his chest and bowed his head, a show of sincerity for his people.

"Well," Max tapped the chocolate against their chin in thought, "there may be one thing. Have you ever heard of cats?"

Next: Bluffing

EC Theobromine Character & Worldbuilding Notes

Original Reddit Prompt:

#humans are space orcs #writing #blurb #The EC Theobromine

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with-my-calamitous-love · 7 months ago

Text

HE SAW FOREVER SO HE SMASHED IT UP

katsuki bakugou x reader

the times bakugou broke your heart

heavily inspired by mbobhft

1) the denial

“are we breaking up?”

“…yeah.”

“oh.”

his reasons made sense. he had a job, a goal, a burning drive to prove himself as the best. he was burnt out, his fingers worked to the bones. he couldn’t give you not just what you wanted, but what you needed. and that killed him more than it did you.

it made sense. the gears turned. the writing was on paper. like almost everything he did, it worked out. of course it worked out for katsuki bakugou- he’s the best.

it wasn’t all that set in stone for you, however.

he could have given you a million more reasons before the tears spilled. “i’m an asshole.” true. “i don’t treat you right.” fair. “you deserve so much fuckin’ better, [y/n.]” yeah, he was right.

but you always liked to challenge the acceptable.

at first, it didn’t hit you as hard as you thought it would. you walked through your room, too numb to pay mind to the tears that rolled down your cheeks, and silently packed up his sweaters into a box. the necklace he gave you, the ‘k’ pendant, came off your neck like a butterfly lands on a branch, knowing that its death is inevitable and doing nothing to stop it.

at night, you cried, and cried, and cried. you called him about 27 times. he never answered. he texted you to make sure you were okay, but your tear-blurred eyes kept you from seeing the keyboard clearly. you left him on seen and prayed that he was worried, prayed that his heart would explode at your lack of an answer, prayed to god that he would come over just to check on. suffice to say your prayers were left unanswered.

you thought he’d call. but he didn’t. but your soul remained devoted, eyes glued to your phone screen and hands shaking. he has to call. he has to tell you goodnight. he has to tell you that you’re an idiot. he has to tell you he loves you. he’s going too, idiot.

right?

2) the anger

if he wanted you dead, why didn’t he just say?

your heart burned for anger. for salvation. for revenge. you knew katsuki bakugou knew anger well, but he had no idea the way your soul flared like a whole new depth of hell.

you laid in bed, awake, eyes excruciatingly drive from crying your tear ducts may as well have been burnt off. memories of him haunted your brain while your fists tightened.

you regretted giving him your heart. your love. your late nights and early mornings. your fights, your passions, your 2ams and your smiles. you hated the way you let him draw the laughter out of you, how he showed parts of himself to you he had never shown anyone.

and those little things that made up your love, he was going to use on someone else. you knew it.

he was going to cook them his special fried rice his mom taught him how to do. he was going to teach them how to punch because he doesn’t want them to get hurt- something he did for you. he was going kiss them how he kissed you, love them in a way that should have only been you.

but he shouldn’t. in fact, he should look back at what you had, and regret every. single. thing. he did to let is end. he should regret everything he didn’t do to keep you. he should burn alive from guilt. scream. cry. fight for his life while his body is doused in gasoline. attempt miserably to tear the fire off his skin while it burned him to a crisp. he should die screaming.

he should deserved it, after all. because he heard your screams, and put his headphones on.

3) the bargaining

please. you wailed. who do i have to talk to? what do i have to do to get him back!?

you suddenly thought of so many scenarios in your head, scenarios fuelled by false hope. things you’d do to kiss him one last time, to hold him, to love him and be loved by him. you’d dry the ocean water. you’d turn stones into gold. you’d bring him to heaven and back. you’d get out of bed. you’d compromise more. you wouldn’t forget to kiss him. you’d love him. you’d love him so much harder. please.

suddenly everything seemed possible. if someone answered your calls, if someone made a deal with you, you’d offer up everything. you were sure you’d place everything on the line for him. you want it all back- his yelling, his snark, his nicknames, his attitude, his everything- no, your everything. you’d pluck out your own eyes for his red ones, or your heart for his heroic soul that loved you brighter than anyone else. being loved by katsuki bakugou was something you wouldn’t trade for anything- turns out you couldn’t trade it either.

4) the depression

everything smelled like him. your sheets blossomed into his sweet, burnt scent, the one that he’d leave behind whenever he slept over simply because he left you. all your jackets felt like his chiseled arms, wrapped around you as if you’d be gone in a moments notice. his voice was everywhere. the songs on the radio, the words you read on your phone, and the memories that played like your favourite movie soundtrack.

you wondered if he knew you couldn’t get out of bed. sometimes you imagined him calling your ass lazy, and then dragging you out of bed with a kiss to your forehead and a breakfast he cooked for you. maybe then you’d rip off the sheets and face the day. but right now, your bed was the only place you could mourn.

it was cruel, in a sense. letting you fall in love with him only to leave. letting you fall in love with his stupid smug smirk, his laugh, his teasing, his anger, his unreasonable handsomeness, his millions of pet peeves and trigger words, his clinginess, his distance, his days and nights, ups and downs, his hate and love all tied into one. he made you love him, knowing you would never get to love another katsuki bakugou.

5) the acceptance

acceptance was bakugou realizing how badly he fucked up.

part 2 soon!

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gallusrostromegalus · 1 month ago

Note

I did not care at all for Aizen Sosuke when I first read bleach. I found him boring, and worst, unthreatening.

So it's pretty jarring for me that I have been OBSESSED with him in your AU. I'm rotating him at great speed

Walt Disney was a jackass who was flat-out wrong about a lot of very important things, but he employed a great many geniuses of storytelling, and there's a piece in Disney Animation: The Illusion of Life by Frank Thomas and Ollie Johnson that discusses a key feature of Disney Studios Character Design:

"Of all characters, villains are the most fun to develop because they make everything else happen. They are the instigators, and always more colorful than the Hero. They may be dramatic, awesome, insidious or semi-comic, but they MUST be appealing. Almost any story becomes innocuous if all the evil is eliminated, but we do not necessarily gain strength by being frightening. we want a character that will hold the audience and entertain them, even if it's a Chilling Type of Entertainment."

And I've found that to be an important principle of character design, especially the kind of canon restructuring I do.

Aizen had a LOT going for him in canon- for all of Bleach's other faults, Aizen's conspiracy and THE REVEAL are spectacularly constructed and executed. I legit screamed and threw my mug across my dorm room when I read it in the manga the first time. He's also conventionally attractive and the translations I was reading gave him the speech patterns of Every Douchebag In Your 101 Political Theory Who Thinks He's The Smartest Man In The Room, which made him a terrific combination of Unfortunately Charming, Menacingly Competent and Engagingly Obnoxious.

...But he falls flat in a few key places.

Aizen's reasoning could be MUCH more sympathetic- After all, he is RIGHT. Soul Sciety does suck ass and all the options kind of suck. Who designs a universe like that? An asshole who needs killing, that's who. The best kind of Unhinged Madmen are the kind who spell out their reasoning and you realize that there but for the grace of Not Having Super Powers Go I. Canon!Aizen makes a few Good Rhetorical Points, but seems to lack any personal connection to his all-consuming plan.

Another issue is that nearly every villain with A Plan has a clear end goal AND a lot of the menace is drawn from the fact that the plan *could* work. Aizen's plan for betraying the court guard and then killing them off before proceeding into the Royal Realm to Kill God sorta falls apart when it's clear he planned to use pretty much all his accumulated forces dealing with the court guard and doesn't seem to have a plan for the Even More Powerful Royal Guard, let alone God. For how meticulously planned the rest of the plot is, the last two VERY IMPORTANT steps are just handwaved.

So I sat down and started with the plot beats Aizen MUST hit, and tried to imagine what kind of guy would he have to be to get there? And I came up with this:

Sosuke Aizen is a fundamentally good man with genuinely good intentions who is really trying his best for the whole world.

Think about it- what lengths would you NOT go to if you think you found a genuine shot at Fixing Everything Wrong With The World Forever? We all talk about killing Hitler if we found an actual Time Machine- would you do it if your only chance was when he was a baby? Would you kill an infant if it meant you could stop World War II before it starts? Of course you would! One small life for over 75 million? You'd be insane not to! What if you found out that you could prevent the future extinction of Humanity by killing your best friend today? Ten Billion lives? For theirs? It's simple, really- Hell, it's your Moral Obligation to do that if you were SURE!

-And Aizen IS sure. He is absolutely, totally, completely sure that He Can Save Everyone if he just gets rid of that idiot sitting on the throne of heaven. He's seen the plans! He knows where the gate of heaven is! It's So SIMPLE he just has to get inside, and he knows EXACTLY how to do it, yes it'll be hard and there will be... unpleasant parts but. IT. WILL. WORK.

He is of course, insane.

Aizen didn't have One Bad Day that set him irrevocably on the path of madness. It was a succession of catastrophic disappointments and realizations that he was living in a fundamentally irrational world that made irrational thinking look sane. The Catastrophe that befell his family, working for the central 46 and later the court guard and seeing how the organizations were inept to the point of abuse or corrupt to the core, learning that The Actual House Of God is a place he can just? Go to? Anyone would start thinking you were just a handful of white lies and homicides away from Fixing Everything, Forever.

Not only is Aizen insane, he is nowhere near as smart as he thinks. He is smart- He does have a knack for being able to guess just what will spur someone to action or make them recoil in fear. But mostly he gets extremely lucky Many, Many, MANY times. On some level I think it gives him Confirmation Bias that this is what he's supposed to be doing. Aizen is also nowhere near as smart as (nearly) everyone else thinks he is. His bizarrely good luck makes him look like a hyper-competent genius when really it was really the catastrophic failure of Soul Society as a Society that let a merely mediocre conspirator to evade detection for so long.

Being that he is at most, mediocre, he had to have Outside Help, specifically Gin's emotional support and Tousen's Competence- and if there's a part of the fic that stays true to canon, it's this.

Gin is Aizen's emotional rock in Canon. He's the ONE guy that Aizen genuinely trusts, and considers his 'my only real partner' in his scheme. There's more than one occasion in the manga where Aizen more or less asks Gin "Is this actually a good idea?" and Gin backs him up every time.

...Which is more than a bit at odds with Gin's later stated goal of "I did all this to kill you at your most vulnerable to protect rangiku" . It never rang true to me. So I started thinking why on EARTH Gin would be backing Aizen up like that, and realized there was a hole in my world building that he slotted into nicely :)

On the other hand, the entire fic was started because I didn't like how Tousen's character arc ended, so you can imagine how much he's changed.

But in canon, TOUSEN DOES ALL THE FUCKING WORK.

Lab work? Tousen.

Supervising the arrancar directly? Tousen

Actually getting victims for the Hogyoku experiments? Tousen.

Altering all the archives to keep Aizen's plot hidden? Tousen.

Sending all the Orders allegedly from the central 46? Tousen.

Making sure Unohana believes Aizen's fake body is real? Tousen.

Managing all the day-to-day operations at Las Noches? Tousen.

There's even this little exchange, which is Tousen's first appearance in the Manga:

Aizen establishes this entire meeting is a little fake-out a few pages later with "now isn't that a convenieint time for the alarm to go off?"

which makes him look like he's investigating, but he's also going "Good job on disrupting everyone with the alarm Gin!" It's ballsy of Aizen to do a check-in on his plan with his main nemesis in the room, but also his style.

I think the same thing is happening here with Tousen. To make sure Ukitake wouldn't raise a huge fit about the proposed execution of his beloved lieutenant, which might fuck everything up for Aizen because Ukitake is one of like, three people Yamamoto will listen to (sort of).

...So he had Tousen poison Ukitake to keep him out of the way.

ALL. THE. FUCKING. WORK. It's even in his name! The characters for "Tousen" Refer to a legendary scholar the emperor of China sent out to discover the secret of immortality- only to kill the scholar when he returned with that secret. The character for "Kaname" means "Necessary/Vital/keystone" or "to organize/take account of". His name LITERALLY means "Scholar who is essential for the plan (that we're going to kill later)"

Another thing Kubo did well in Bleach: his name game is Off The Fucking Charts.

-but I digress.

In AEIWAM, it's much the same only this time Aizen sees this very dangerous witness who is immune to his illusions but also extremely snart and capable young man and instead of risking being caught out by the one damn guy who can see right through him, opts to Curse Kaname into doing as Aizen says, and doing all the fucking work of this conspiracy against his will.

It's Not Nice, but Aizen genuinely thinks he's doing Kaname a favor by subjecting him to this degrading and incredibly painful servitude- I mean, Aizen's only other option was to Kill him to keep his silence, and isn't it wonderful that you get to help fix the universe? You're the one always going on about Justice, I don't understand why you didn't jump at the chance to mete out some Divine Justice.

An Excerpt from the captain's meeting in between the Massacre that made the visored and Zaraki's arrival, when Kaname realizes Yamamoto is 100% serious about his promotion to captain of the 9th and goes to throw up in the garden. Aizen offers to go check on him while Unohana very politely reads the general the riot act:

---

"You broke your toy Aizen." Kaname coughs.

"…I really am sorry for running you ragged like this. I really shouldn't have gotten so mad about you hiding the the hogyoku- it was very petty of me." The bastard sighs, taking off his glasses and rubbing his face, entirely genuine.

Kaname stayed on his hands and knees, weaving slightly as another wave of nausea flowed through him, powered by disgust and rage.

"How about this- I've got a lot coming up with the new job, training Gin and disposing of Kiganjo- So how about I promise to not give you any orders for a while? You will have to keep our arrangement a secret and not interfere, of course, but other than that, you're free to do as you please for- a year and a day is traditional isn't it? No, that's not going to heal by then- Oh, would you look at that!"

Kaname didn't have the strength to offer his usual rebuttal that he won't look at anything, ever. The sides of his head tingle like his skul was being pressed between two enormous hands made of static electricity.

"It's 11:11! Alright, I won't give you any Orders until 11:11 am on November 11th, 1911. That's easy to remember! What do you think?" Aizen continued cheerfully, patting his back and the Curse nails.

"…I can't." Kaname groaned. He could scream if he had the energy, but due to Aizen's Illusions, nobody would hear him. "I actually physically can't think. Please…"

"Of course! You really are such a help to me, it would be a shame to lose you. I'll even amend our contract, so you don't get paranoid-" There was a sizzling sound and a new stroke of hot pain up Kaname's spine as Aizen did something to the wretched Bakudo. "There. No compulsions for eleven years and a day. What do you say?"

Kaname grimaced, but dropped his head. Save the energy to fight another day. "…thank you, Aizen-sama."

"Good man! Let's get you on your feet." Aizen beamed, putting his glasses back on and offering him an arm.

---

He genuinely thinks that he's doing everyone a huge favor and if they don't get it it's because they're just not smart enough, but it's alright, He's a Benevolent God and they'll appreciate all his hard work the next time around :)

Aizen is a man who is FULL of joy. He loves what he does! He actively takes pleasure in it! And I think that's something that REALLY delivers in terms of sympathy AND horror for him. Who *Wouldn't* have a great time actually fixing the universe? He's a good man who enjoys doing good works, and this is the greatest work of all!

It also Delivers on the Horror when I get to write the deliciously fun scenes where Aizen is Elbows-deep in a novel War Crime and waxing poetic about how GREAT this is, or being confused why the people around him are reacting with fear. Don't you want to make everything better too?

#AEIWAM #an elephant is warm and mushy #sosuke aizen #kaname tosen #gin ichimaru

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sloaneispunk · 1 month ago

Text

“jealousy jealousy”

stormshadow (lee byung hun) x you

“i told you i’d kill him if he touched you again”

✶ ──── 🀀 ──── ✶

when you joined cobra, you had to take up different missions with different objectives. this time, you had to go undercover as the baroness, earning the trust of the baron so you could infiltrate the secret code for weapons.

“y/n, this is stormshadow. he’s assigned to keep you safe during the mission, i need you two to work together.” your employer said.

your first impressions of stormshadow was that he was reslly goodlooking. he had the perfect facial harmony that somehow complemented his physique as a whole.

“my pleasure, ms y/n.” stormshadow greeted, subtly bowing down as a sign of respect.

“you’ll start in a few hours, you have a date with the baron at 7 sharp! don’t be late!” your employer shouted from a far as he walked off, leaving the two of you behind.

“i’ll come back at 6:30 to pick you up.” the man in front of you reminded.

you nodded and gave him a smile before heading off.

back in your room, you found a box already waiting for you on your bed.

‘picked out a dress for you’ the note said as it laid perfectly on the box.

you opened it, finding a silk, white dress. it was beautiful.

funny enough, it seemed like a total coincidence that stormshadow’s suit also happened to be white.

a while later you were ready for the mission. you looked in the mirror one last time and headed down.

then came a ring of the doorbell.

6:30pm sharp. what a gentleman.

as you opened the front door, you were met with a familiar face, stormshadow. he seemed to had been in awe as you waited for his reaction.

“how do i look?” you asked nervously, biting your lip as you waited for an answer.

“give me a twirl.”

you spun on your heel, watching as the dress flowed almost magically with you.

“beautiful.” he smiled, extending his arm for you to take as he led you to the car.

✶ ──── 🀀 ──── ✶

when you reached the restaurant, your jaw dropped. it was the most luxurious place you had ever seen.

the walls were pitch black, decorated with sleek lights that dimly lit the whole place, causing you to stand out.

“i feel stupid.” you told him as you walked.

you were never used to such affluence. but ever since you had taken this job working with cobra you had been exposed to more and more richness. still, it was like a fever-dream.

“you’re far from that, y/n…” he replied, “now, just entertain him for the night, keep him interested but don’t let him push it too far. if anything goes wrong, i’ll be right there.”

you looked towards where he pointed, it wasn’f too far from your table. he was stationed at the bar.

and with that, the mission had begun.

you tried your best to stay intrigued by the things the baron was saying, you really did. but in all honesty, you couldn’t be bothered. often, you eyes wandered to the bar, hoping to catch s glimpse of stormshadow.

when you did happen to see him, he would give you a reassuring smile. almost as if he was letting you know that he still had your back. and that kept you going for the night.

when the excruciating dinner finally came to an end, the baron asked to send you home. however, you politely declined.

he didn’t take it well.

“c’mon, we can have a little fun at your place to.” he tried but failed to sound seductive.

“oh, no, my driver’s picking me up-”

the baron grabbed your arm.

“i think i’ve earned it.” he insisted, pulling you closer as you gave him a nervous chuckle.

stormshadow watched as his grip on his glass tightened. he thought of interfering but he knew it would compromise the mission, so he sat still, holding back whatever anger he was feeling inside.

“seriously, i shouldn’t. my driver’s outside.” you told the baron in a strict tone, making him finally stop insisting. instead, he put on a fake smile, bringing your hand up to his lips.

“i’ll see you soon, y/n.”

you put on your best geniune fake smile and took off.

once you got into the car you felt like you could breathe again. you let out a loud sigh and kicked off your heels.

then, the door opened, stormshadow swiftly got in to the seat beside you as the driver drove off.

✶ ──── 🀀 ──── ✶

the car ride was painfully silent, stormshadow hadn’t uttered a single word since he stepped in.

you took it as a sign that maybe he changed his mind, wanting to keep things more professional from now on.

when the car stopped, you picked up your heels and left without a word, heading back to your room.

“what do you think you’re doing?” stormshadow called out to you as he chased you down the hall.

“going to bed.” you said, not stopping.

“y/n, wait.” he jogged up to you, stopling you in your tracks just before you could enter your room.

“what are you doing?” it was your turn to ask now. he shook his head as a smile appeared on his face once more.

“is something wrong?”

“yeah, what’s wrong is you acting all sweet and nice to me since we met but right after dinner you’re like a whole new person!” you almost shouted, throwing your hand up in the air in defeat. “do you want to be professional? we can ditch the whole first name basis then and-”

“no.”

“w-what?”

“i didn’t like seeing the baron touch you like that.” stormshadow admitted, looking away embarrassed.

“but i’m okay, i got away.” you said softly, cupping his face to face you.

“i’ll kill him if he ever touches you again.”

your eyes widened, surely he didn’t mean it.

“you shoulder get some rest.” you told him, taking it as a joke. you brushed the now messy strays hairs away from his eyes. “thank you.”

you slowly leaned forward, pressing a gentle kiss to his cheek before you entered your room.

stormshadow laid awake that night, his mind replaying how the baron had touched your delicate skin. he wanted to be the only one that had gotten close enough to do that.

that night, he made a silent promise to himself that from then on, no one would even come close to touching you unless it was him. he would eliminate anyone that got in his way.

✶ ──── 🀀 ──── ✶

a while later, he had been assigned once again to accompany you to yet another date with the baron.

he was thrilled to be able to see you again, but the thought of you spending time with someone else while he sat there watching helplessly angered him.

the entire time as you were there with the baron, he sulked in a corner, eyes practically shooting daggers into the man that sat across you.

but things took a turn as you followed the baron back to his place.

to you, it was merely so you could gain access to his house, studying the layout and figuring out where he could possibly have kept the secret codes.

but to stormshadow, you were in danger. he knew what men like the baron could do to a pretty woman like you and he was going to do everything he could to prevent it.

“come, let’s go to my bedroom.” the baron said as he took your hand, leading you.

as the two of you got to his room, he started being more touchy with you. his hands wandered from your arm to your waist and to the back of your dress.

but before anything else could happen, he stopped. you cocked your eyebrow as his face suddenly contorted in pain, his mouth agape as he let out a silent cry for help.

then, he had fallen onto the floor at your feet. that’s when you saw it. a knofe was sticking out from his back, blood pooling and seeping into the million dollar carpet.

then, stormshadow came out from hiding, stepping out into the light.

“jesus! did you do that?!” you cursed, seeing the now dead baron at the foot of his own bed.

“i told you i’d kill him if he touched you again.”

you looked up at him in shock, he wasn’t joking.

before you could comprehend the situation, stormshadow grabbed your neck, pulling you flush against him as his lips found yours.

you easily melted right into the kiss, deepening it as he let out a low groan.

the kiss was messy, with teeth and tongue as both your mouths fought for dominace. but before you could’ve taken it further, there was a knock on the bedroom door.

“sir? is everything alright?”

shit.

✶ ──── 🀀 ──── ✶

( g.i. joe: rise of cobra - 2009)

#frontman #frontman x reader #frontman x you #hwang inho #inho x reader #inho x you #squid game #squidgame season 2 #lee byung hun #lee byung hun x you #lee byung hun x reader #stormshadow x you #stormshadow x reader #storm shadow #gi joe

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lov3notts · 2 months ago

Note

Theodore Nott x Reader where they are doing 7 minutes in heaven? But instead it's hell. Love you <3

reopened wounds

theodore nott x reader

Summary: the request up above. You and Theo are Ex's, being stuck in a small space, reopened wounds from your difficult relationship with him

warning: minor heartbreak

a/n: new title , thank you for the request anon!!!:)) also I will be doing anon emojis soon!

Navigation; masterlist; request rules; part 2; part 3

The game is supposed to be fun, but the moment the bottle stops spinning, you know this is going to be anything but. It lands on Theo, and a wave of dread washes over you.

Your ex. Of all the people in the room, it had to be him. Your heart sinks, but you force yourself to stand up, the weight of all the eyes on you making it harder to breathe.

Theo doesn’t even look at you as you both head to the small, suffocating closet. The door clicks shut, and there’s an instant, heavy silence between you.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Theo mutters, shifting uncomfortably in the cramped space. His shoulder brushes yours, and you can feel the tension between you rise like smoke.

“Nice to see you too,” you snap, your voice tight.

He doesn’t respond. Instead, he lets out a frustrated sigh and shifts again, knocking into you. “This is ridiculous. We can’t even move in here.”

“Gee, you think?” you snap back, the words almost escaping before you can stop them. The anger from your past with him surges unexpectedly, and your chest tightens. “It’s not like I wanted to be stuck in here with you, but here we are.”

Theo’s eyes flash with irritation. “You think I wanted this too? You’re the one who spun the bottle.” He shifts awkwardly, trying to make room for himself but only making things worse. His elbow jabs into your side, and you flinch.

“You could at least be a little more careful,” you mutter, your voice strained.

“I am careful! You’re the one moving around every time I try to do something. Just stop fidgeting, alright?”

“Stop blaming me for your mess,” you snap, trying to push him away, but there's no space. “You can’t even stay still for five seconds without knocking into me.”

Theo groans in frustration. “God, you’re impossible!” His voice is low but full of venom, and for a moment, you’re reminded of how it felt when you two fought like this before. How everything escalated, how he always made you feel like you were the one overreacting. You take a breath, pushing that thought away. Now’s not the time.

“Don’t start,” you warn, your voice shaky but cold. "Not in here."

“Not in here?” Theo sneers, and suddenly there’s a sharp edge to his voice. “You don’t get to tell me what to do anymore. You gave that up when you broke up with me.”

The words hit you like a slap. For a second, you can’t breathe, the weight of that old wound opening up again. His words are like salt on an old, raw scar. You had tried so hard to forget that night—the way everything fell apart between you two—but hearing him say it out loud makes it all feel fresh again.

“I didn’t—” you start, your voice cracking, but you stop yourself. You had your reasons for ending things, but now isn’t the time to rehash it. “That’s not what this is about.”

Theo scoffs, his face contorted with frustration. “Then what is it about, huh? You act like we’re fine, like this isn’t killing you inside. You think I’m enjoying this? Being stuck in a closet with you?”

“Then why don’t you leave?” you hiss. “If it’s so bad, why don’t you just go?”

“Maybe I will.” His voice is barely above a whisper, but the bitterness in it is unmistakable. He shoves his hand through his hair, then steps on your foot.

“Great,” you snap, your patience finally running out. “You’re making it worse.”

“Me? You’re the one overreacting,” Theo grumbles, stepping back only to bump into you again.

“I am not overreacting,” you retort. "You’re the one acting like this whole thing is a tragedy. But you know what? It’s not my fault we’re here. It’s your fault for—”

“For what? For loving you?!” Theo cuts you off, his voice cracking with old pain, the raw emotion surfacing despite his attempts to hide it.

"And for some reason loving me involved you constantly flirting with other girls? always canceling dates? only coming to me when you were hurt but never when I was? that wasn't love Theo. I was just convenient for you."

The words hang between you, thick and suffocating. You can feel your pulse in your throat as your chest tightens. your anger, your hurt—it all comes rushing back. All the feelings you thought you buried. All the love, the heartbreak, the why behind everything that happened.

Theo takes a shaky breath, but before he can respond, the buzzer goes off, cutting the tension like a knife.

You both stumble out of the closet, not looking at each other, your hearts pounding in your chests. Your friends are watching, but all you can hear is the echo of Theo’s words. You’re both pretending it’s over, but the damage is done, and the old wounds between you two are raw and open again.

ᥫ᭡reblog's & comment's are appreciatedᥫ᭡

©lov3notts ,do not copy, translate or claim any of my writing or works as your own.

tag list: @juliet-017 @shityoudidntaskfor

#theodore nott #theo nott #slytherin boys #theo nott x reader #ᯓᡣ𐭩my asks #theodore nott x reader #theodore nott fic #theodore nott drabble #theo nott angst #theodore nott angst #theo nott drabble #anon request

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lila-lou · 2 months ago

Text

✨Littlest Winchester✨

Summary: You were always all about Christmas, but this year your excitement was through the roof—mixed with a hint of nervousness. You had big news to share with Dean, and the thought of it made your heart race with both joy and a touch of fear.

-Christmas Special-

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Warnings: bit of Angst, FLUFF

Word Count: 8706

A/N: English isn’t my first language, please be lenient. ❤️

Dean groaned as you shoved him, shifting slightly before blinking awake. His arm instinctively reached back for you, but you were already halfway out of bed, practically buzzing with excitement.

“What the hell, Y/N”, he mumbled, his voice thick with sleep. “It’s too early for this”.

You turned around, your grin widening as you saw his messy hair and the way he tried to bury his face back into the pillow. “It’s Christmas, Dean! Come on, get up!”.

He cracked one eye open, clearly unimpressed, but there was a hint of amusement in his gaze. “You’re like a kid”, he muttered, but despite his grumbling, you knew he wasn’t really annoyed.

You laughed, pulling at his arm to try and drag him out of bed. “Exactly! And we’ve got a whole day ahead. Presents, food… everything”.

Dean groaned again, louder this time, and reached out his arm, trying to pull you back toward the bed. “C’mon, baby”, he muttered, his voice low and husky. “Just… five more minutes. It’s freezing out there, and this bed is perfect right now”.

You shook your head, laughing softly as he wrapped his arm around your waist, tugging you back onto the mattress. “Dean! We have the whole day! I don’t want to waste it”, you said, even as you felt his warmth surround you, making it harder to resist the temptation to stay.

He grinned lazily, clearly enjoying his victory as you reluctantly settled back beside him. “The day’s not going anywhere”, he murmured, his voice a little softer now. “Besides, Christmas can wait. Let’s just stay here… just a little longer”. His hand traced lazy circles on your back, and you could feel his breath against your neck as he nestled closer.

For a moment, you almost gave in. The way Dean held you, his warmth, the quietness of the room—it was all too comfortable. But then your excitement bubbled up again, and you gently nudged him. “Dean, come on”, you urged, trying to wiggle free from his grip.

Dean let out an exaggerated groan, burying his face deeper into the pillow as you tried to escape his grasp. “You’re killing me, Y/N”, he muttered, his arm tightening around you one last time before finally loosening his grip. “Fine, but I’m only doing this for the pie”.

You laughed, finally free as you sprang out of bed, your energy contagious. Dean rolled onto his back, stretching his arms over his head, watching you with a lazy smirk as you practically skipped around the room.

“You’re lucky you’re cute when you’re excited”, he teased, his voice still thick with sleep. He swung his legs over the side of the bed, running a hand through his messy hair as he sat up. “But if I don’t smell coffee in the next five minutes, you’re on your own”.

You shot him a playful glare before heading toward the door, the excitement bubbling up again.

Dean pulled on his sweatpants and a shirt, giving one last stretch before heading out of the room. He followed you quietly through the bunker, the coolness of the metal halls contrasting with the warmth of your festive decorations. You had spent weeks transforming the usually stark and utilitarian space into something that actually felt like Christmas—string lights hung from the walls, garlands draped over the railings, and a big tree sat proudly in the corner of the main room, covered in ornaments.

As Dean walked, he couldn’t help but smirk at how much effort you’d put into it. The bunker, usually so cold and impersonal, felt almost… homey. He’d never been one for Christmas decorations, but he had to admit, seeing the place like this wasn’t so bad.

When he finally reached the kitchen, you were already bustling around, pouring a mug of coffee and humming to yourself. The smell of freshly brewed coffee filled the air, mixing with the faint scent of cinnamon from a candle you had insisted on lighting every morning.

Dean leaned against the doorframe, watching you for a moment. “You know, you’ve really outdone yourself with this whole Christmas thing”, he said, his tone half teasing, half genuine. “Didn’t think the bunker could look this… festive”.

You turned around, grinning as you handed him a mug. “Well, someone had to bring the holiday spirit. If it were up to you, we’d have nothing but a six-pack and maybe a couple of leftover slices of pizza to celebrate”.

Dean chuckled, taking the coffee gratefully. “Hey, nothing wrong with that. But I gotta admit, the tree’s kinda growing on me”.

That’s when Sam stumbled into the kitchen, still half asleep, his hair sticking up in all directions. He looked like he’d just rolled out of bed—because he had. He squinted at the lights. You could see him suppressing a yawn as he leaned against the counter, blinking at the sight of the two of you.

“Morning”, he muttered, rubbing his eyes and reaching for the coffee pot. “Knew I’d be dead if I slept in today”, he added with a smirk in your direction, his voice gravelly with sleep.

You grinned, lifting your mug in mock salute. “Damn right, Winchester. It’s Christmas, not time to laze around”.

Dean chuckled, shaking his head as he watched Sam pour himself some coffee.

Sam took a slow sip of his coffee, his eyes narrowing slightly as a mischievous grin crept onto his face. He leaned back against the counter, casually crossing his arms. “Speaking of lazing around, Dean, I didn’t think you’d even be up by now, considering you’ve got a whole new reason to stay in bed these days”, he teased, casting a glance your way.

Dean shot him a look, raising an eyebrow. “Oh, really, Sammy? That’s what we’re doing now?”.

Sam smirked, clearly enjoying the chance to poke fun at his brother. “What? I’m just saying, Y/N’s got you wrapped around her finger. I never thought I’d see the day Dean Winchester gets out of bed early on Christmas morning without complaining. Miracles do happen”.

Dean rolled his eyes, but you could see the faintest hint of a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Yeah, yeah. Keep talking, Sasquatch”.

Sam chuckled, clearly not done with the teasing. “I’m just saying, she’s got you doing things I never thought possible. I mean, you’re practically domesticated, Dean. Next thing we know, you’ll be cooking us a Christmas dinner and wearing an apron”.

Dean scoffed, leaning back against the counter with a smirk. “Yeah, right. Like I’d ever let you two anywhere near my cooking. And for the record, Y/N hasn’t ‘domesticated’ anything. I’m still the same badass I’ve always been”.

You raised an eyebrow at him playfully, crossing your arms. “Oh really? Because I distinctly remember someone helping me hang Christmas lights last week without complaining once”.

Dean pointed at you, his grin widening. “Hey, I did that under protest, and I still managed to look cool doing it”.

Sam burst out laughing. “Yeah, because nothing says ‘cool’ like untangling lights and getting glitter all over yourself”.

You grinned, stepping closer to Dean and leaning in to kiss him softly on the lips. “You’re still a badass”, you mumbled against his mouth, your hand resting on his chest.

Dean smirked, his eyes darkening playfully as he pulled you closer, his hand slipping to give your butt a squeeze. “Damn right I am”, he grumbled quietly, his lips brushing against your ear. “And tonight, I’m gonna show you just how much of a badass I really am”.

You blushed slightly, biting your lip, but before you could respond, Sam cleared his throat loudly, rolling his eyes as he grabbed a spatula from the counter. “Alright, lovebirds. Save it for later”. He gave Dean a pointed look and shook his head, but there was a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.

Dean just laughed, completely unbothered. “What? You’d understand if you weren’t such a giant prude”.

Sam chuckled and turned his attention back to the stove, where the eggs you’d been cooking were starting to sizzle. “Speaking of helping, you two might want to focus on breakfast before I have to scrape these off the pan”. He stirred the eggs, giving Dean a mock glare. “You’re not getting out of this one, man. You can help with breakfast if you’re not too busy being a badass”.

Dean grinned, giving you one more quick kiss, his lips lingering just long enough to make your heart flutter. "Alright, alright", he muttered with a chuckle.

You rolled your eyes playfully but couldn't help the smile that tugged at your lips as you returned to the stove, taking over where Sam left off with the eggs. As you stirred them, you could feel Dean’s gaze still on you, that familiar warmth blooming in your chest. Sam was right—Dean might act tough and gruff most of the time, but with you, it was different. There was a softness he showed only around you, a vulnerability he never let anyone else see. And honestly, it felt good knowing you had him wrapped around your finger in a way no one else ever had.

Dean walked up behind you, resting his hand casually on the small of your back as he grabbed the coffee pot to refill his mug. "These eggs better be good, or you’re gonna have to explain to Sam why I’m stealing all the bacon later".

Sam snorted from the other side of the kitchen, glancing over with a smirk. "You’re such a drama queen, Dean. It’s breakfast, not a five-star restaurant".

"Hey, breakfast is important", Dean shot back, leaning against the counter with a mock-serious look. "And so is bacon. Especially on Christmas morning".

You laughed, shaking your head as you finished scrambling the eggs, the smell of food filling the bunker and blending with the warmth of the decorations around you. “Relax, Winchester. You’ll get your bacon”.

Dean raised his mug in a mock toast. “Now you’re talking my language”.

As Sam set the table, you couldn’t help but take a moment to appreciate the scene—two brothers you cared about, a peaceful morning for once, and a Christmas that actually felt like something worth celebrating. Despite everything life threw at you, moments like this made it all worthwhile.

Just as you set the plates of scrambled eggs and bacon on the table, a sudden whoosh of air filled the room, and before you could react, Jack appeared right in the middle of the kitchen, his usual bright smile lighting up his face.

“Good morning!”, Jack exclaimed, his excitement palpable. “Merry Christmas!”.

Dean nearly spilled his coffee, glancing up with a start. “Damn it, Jack! We’ve talked about the whole ‘teleporting without warning’ thing”.

Before Jack could respond, there was another rustle, and Cas stepped into the kitchen, as calm and collected as ever. “Dean”, he said in his familiar, gravelly tone, “we’re here for breakfast, not to startle you”.

You couldn’t help but chuckle as you watched Dean roll his eyes, clearly trying to keep his usual grumpy demeanor in place, though you could tell he was glad to see them. “Yeah, well, maybe next time use the front door like normal people”, Dean muttered, but his grin betrayed him as he waved them over.

Jack, seemingly oblivious to the grumbling, beamed at the sight of the Christmas decorations you had put up. “Wow, Y/N! The bunker looks amazing! It feels so… festive!”.

You smiled, wiping your hands on a dish towel. “Thanks, Jack. Took a bit of work, but it’s worth it”.

Cas, standing beside Jack, nodded his approval. “It’s a significant improvement. Very… homey”.

Dean snorted, muttering under his breath, “Great, now even Cas is getting sappy”. But there was no hiding the fondness in his voice.

Sam grinned at Jack and Cas, pulling out chairs for them. “Perfect timing, guys. Y/N just finished making breakfast. You’re just in time”.

Jack’s eyes lit up as he sat down eagerly, glancing at the spread of eggs, bacon, and toast. “I love breakfast!”.

Dean raised an eyebrow as he sat down across from him. “Jack, you love every meal”.

Jack shrugged with a sheepish smile. “That’s true. But breakfast is especially good”.

Cas sat beside Jack, his eyes scanning the table thoughtfully. “I don’t require food, but I appreciate the sentiment. I’ll join you”.

Dean caught your eye as you both sat down, his hand brushing against yours under the table. He didn’t say anything, but the warmth in his gaze said it all: this, right here, was what mattered.

As the breakfast continued, the table filled with the sound of clinking forks and Jack excitedly recounting some recent stories, Cas began to grow unusually quiet. You noticed him eyeing you from across the table, his piercing blue gaze lingering on you with that familiar intensity that usually meant he had picked up on something. His brows furrowed slightly, and you bit your lip, silently hoping he’d just tune into Jack’s enthusiastic chatter.

But then, Cas tilted his head ever so slightly, his eyes narrowing as they dropped to your stomach. “Y/N”, he started, his voice cutting through the lighthearted atmosphere, “something feels… off”.

Your heart skipped a beat. You could feel Dean glance at you out of the corner of his eye, his fork pausing midway to his mouth. Cas’ eyes were still fixed on you, a mix of confusion and concern etched across his face, and you knew he was sensing something that you weren’t quite ready to discuss. Not yet.

Cas opened his mouth again, but before he could say anything more, you stood up abruptly, your chair scraping against the floor. “Cas, could you help me with something in the library?”, you asked quickly, trying to keep your voice steady, but the urgency in your tone was hard to miss.

Dean’s gaze shifted fully to you now, his brows furrowing slightly. “Baby, you barely ate”, he said softly, nodding towards your plate that still had most of the eggs untouched.

You forced a small smile, your heart racing. “I’ll be right back. I just need to check something with Cas. Won’t take long”.

Jack, still caught up in his own world, barely seemed to notice the tension as he continued his story to Sam. But Dean wasn’t fooled, his eyes searching yours for an explanation. You gave his hand a reassuring squeeze before nodding toward Cas, silently pleading with him to follow you without asking any more questions.

Cas stood slowly, his expression still unreadable but compliant, and followed you out of the kitchen. As soon as you were out of earshot, you let out a shaky breath, trying to gather your thoughts. The last thing you needed was Cas revealing something in front of everyone before you even had a chance to wrap your head around it yourself.

Cas watched you with that deep, unblinking intensity, his hands still tucked into the familiar folds of his trench coat. The silence between you felt heavy, the air thick with the tension of unspoken words. You could see the wheels turning in his mind, that angelic perception of his already picking up on things you hadn’t fully come to terms with yet.

And then it happened.

In the quiet stillness of the library, his gaze sharpened slightly. His head tilted once more, and his eyes flicked to your stomach. It was as though something invisible had clicked into place. The faintest sound of another heartbeat reached his celestial senses, soft yet distinct, tucked away beneath your own.

His eyes widened in realization, and he straightened up, his voice barely more than a whisper. “There’s… another heartbeat”.

You swallowed hard, your throat tightening as the reality of it hit you again. You hadn’t wanted to think about it, hadn’t even allowed yourself to fully embrace it yet. But now, with Cas staring at you like he’d just uncovered a truth written in the stars, it was impossible to avoid.

Cas stepped closer, his expression softening with a mixture of awe and understanding. “Y/N… you’re pregnant”.

There it was—out in the open. The secret you had been carrying alone, unsure of how to even approach it. The words hung in the air between you, thick and heavy, as if they had the power to change everything.

You nodded slowly, your eyes dropping to the floor as your fingers fidgeted with the hem of your shirt. “I—I found out a while ago. I haven’t told Dean yet”.

Cas watched you closely, his blue eyes filled with understanding as you hesitated. The weight of your secret had been building up inside you, and now that it was out in the open—at least with Cas—it felt like you were one step closer to facing it. But there was still the looming task of telling Dean, and that, above all, made your heart race.

You took a deep breath, your voice barely above a whisper as you admitted, “I’m planning on telling him tonight”.

Cas nodded, his expression gentle and supportive. “That’s a good idea, Y/N. It’s important that he hears it from you, and in your own time”.

You bit your lip, feeling the nerves bubble up again. “I know. I’ve been trying to figure out the right moment, the right words… but I don’t think there’s ever going to be a perfect time, is there?”.

Cas shook his head slightly. “No, but Dean will understand. He’ll want to be there for you, for both of you”.

You sighed softly, running a hand through your hair. “It’s just… it’s a lot. And with everything we’ve been through—demons, angels, hunting—it’s hard to imagine something like this fitting into our lives”.

Cas took a step closer, his presence calming. “You’re stronger than you think, Y/N. You’ve been through so much together, and this will be another challenge, but one filled with love. Dean will rise to the occasion”.

You smiled weakly, grateful for Cas’ steady reassurance. “Thanks, Cas. I really needed to hear that”.

Cas nodded, a rare, soft smile tugging at his lips, a sight so uncommon that it momentarily eased the tension in your chest. It was reassuring, the way he could offer comfort without saying too much, just being present and understanding in his quiet, angelic way.

"You’re welcome, Y/N", he said softly, that smile lingering. "It’s going to be alright. You’re not alone in this".

You felt a surge of emotion at his words. Cas always had this way of making even the most overwhelming situations seem manageable, like everything was just part of a bigger plan. You were about to face one of the biggest moments of your life, but somehow, in this moment, with Cas standing there, it didn’t feel as impossible as it had before.

“I’m not sure how I’m going to bring it up", you admitted, a hint of nervousness creeping back into your voice. “Dean’s not exactly the best at handling surprises”.

Cas’ small smile grew slightly, an amused glint in his eyes. “True, but he has a way of adapting, especially when it comes to you”.

You chuckled softly, rubbing your hands together nervously. “Yeah, I guess you’re right”.

Cas’ expression grew more serious again as he added, “Dean cares for you deeply. That won’t change, no matter what you tell him tonight”.

You nodded, letting out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. “Okay. Tonight”.

You gave him a small, grateful smile and then glanced back toward the kitchen. "We should get back before Dean gets suspicious”.

Cas simply followed your gaze, and with a subtle shift of his posture, you both started making your way back to the kitchen. As you stepped inside, the sound of Jack’s laughter filled the room, and the warmth of the holiday decorations felt a little more comforting now.

Dean immediately looked up from his seat, his green eyes locking onto yours. His brow furrowed slightly, but he smiled, his lips curling into that familiar smirk that always managed to make your heart skip a beat. “Everything good?”, he asked, his voice casual but laced with curiosity.

You smiled back at him, nodding as you returned to your seat next to him. “Yeah, everything’s good”, you said softly, your hand finding his under the table again, needing that connection for just a bit longer.

Dean glanced between you and Cas but didn’t press further. Instead, he squeezed your hand, his thumb brushing over your knuckles in a gesture of quiet comfort.

The rest of the breakfast carried on with Jack and Sam exchanging stories, Cas chiming in now and then with his calm, straightforward insights. And while the atmosphere was light, you couldn’t help but feel the weight of the conversation that was coming later.

As the day went on, the soft hum of holiday cheer filled the bunker. Jack sat cross-legged on the floor beside you, eagerly helping to wrap the last few presents, his excitement almost palpable as he concentrated on folding the wrapping paper with precision. “Do you think they’ll like them?”, he asked, glancing up at you with wide, hopeful eyes.

You smiled warmly, watching him try his best to mimic the way you wrapped the gifts. “They’ll love them, Jack”, you assured him. “It’s the thought that counts, and you’ve put a lot of thought into these”.

Jack beamed, his joy infectious. “I hope so. I want this Christmas to be perfect”.

As you carefully taped the final gift, your eyes drifted over to Cas, who sat in the corner of the room, staring down at the bright red and green Christmas sweater you’d made him wear earlier in the day. It had a knitted image of a reindeer on it, complete with a blinking red nose, and while the sweater fit him perfectly, Cas looked incredibly out of place.

He tugged slightly at the fabric near his neck, his expression unreadable as he muttered, “This garment feels… unusual”.

You couldn’t help but laugh softly. “It’s supposed to feel a little weird. It’s a Christmas sweater, Cas. They’re meant to be festive, not comfortable”.

Cas raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. “I fail to understand how wearing this contributes to the holiday spirit”.

Jack looked up from his wrapping and grinned. “It’s part of the tradition, Castiel. You wear silly clothes, eat too much food, and spend time with the people you care about. That’s the spirit of Christmas”.

Cas glanced at Jack, his confusion softening into contemplation. “I see”, he murmured, his eyes moving down to the blinking reindeer on his chest once more. “It is… rather distracting”.

You chuckled, moving to sit beside him for a moment. “You’re doing great, Cas. You’re embracing the whole Christmas thing, and that’s what counts”.

He nodded slowly, though his fingers continued to tug at the sweater, as if he were still trying to understand its purpose. “I suppose if it makes everyone happy, I can tolerate it for a little while longer”.

Jack beamed at Cas, clearly pleased that he was trying to join in. “It looks good on you, Cas. Really festive!”.

Cas gave a small nod of acknowledgment but looked a little like he’d rather be anywhere else than wearing that sweater. Still, it was a rare moment of levity in their otherwise intense lives, and you were glad to see him at least making an effort.

The day passed peacefully, the bunker filled with laughter and quiet conversation. Sam and Dean had gone out to get the final groceries for dinner, leaving you with some much-needed quiet time to prepare mentally for the conversation you were planning to have later.

Just as you began peeling potatoes for dinner, the sound of Jody’s familiar voice echoed through the bunker, followed by the laughter and chatter of her girls, Claire and Alex.

Cas, Jack, and Sam were quick to step outside to help unload the car. From the doorway, you could see Jack’s enthusiasm, practically bouncing on his heels as they brought in armfuls of presents from the back of Jody’s truck.

You smiled to yourself, grateful for the warmth that filled the bunker today. It wasn’t just the twinkling lights or the soft hum of Christmas music playing in the background; it was the people—this makeshift family that had come together, in all their strange, supernatural, and human ways.

Suddenly, you felt a presence behind you, strong and familiar. Before you could react, Dean’s hands slid around your waist, splaying across your belly as he pressed his body close to yours. His lips found the side of your neck, leaving soft kisses that sent shivers down your spine, making your breath hitch.

“Hey”, he whispered against your skin, his voice low and teasing. “You’ve been running around all day. Figured I’d steal a minute”.

You exhaled, momentarily forgetting about the potatoes as you leaned into his touch, feeling the warmth of his hands spread through you. His fingers brushed against your belly gently, and for a second, a rush of nerves tightened your chest. He didn’t know yet, and his hands were right there, resting over the secret you hadn’t yet shared.

Dean must have felt the shift in your body because he paused, his lips still on your neck but now still. “You okay, sweetheart?”.

You forced a smile, even though your heart raced beneath your chest. “Yeah, just… thinking about everything we have to get done”.

He chuckled, clearly not suspecting anything. “You’ve got this”, he said confidently, his hands giving your stomach a soft squeeze before he moved his lips to your ear. “And later tonight, we’ll make some time for just us. Sound good?”.

Your breath caught again, not from his words but from the weight of what you knew you had to tell him. You turned your head slightly, catching his gaze, trying to steady your nerves. “Yeah”, you whispered. “Later”.

Dean grinned, giving you one more lingering kiss on the neck before pulling back. "You need any help here?", he asked, nodding toward the potatoes you’d been peeling, but before you could answer, Jody stepped into the kitchen with her usual air of confident warmth, followed closely by Alex, both clearly ready to jump in and take over.

Jody smiled as she caught sight of Dean standing so close to you. “I think you’ve got enough on your plate, Dean”, she teased lightly, her eyes sparkling. “Why don’t you let the ladies handle dinner, and you can make yourself useful elsewhere?”.

Dean chuckled, holding up his hands in surrender. “Alright, alright. You know where to find me if you need the real help”.

Jody rolled her eyes playfully before turning toward you. “Looks like we’ve got things covered in here, Y/N. What do you say we get this show on the road?”.

You gave her a grateful smile as Alex moved to your side, eager to pitch in. "Sounds good to me".

Before Dean could make another comment, Jody pointed toward the door, a mischievous grin on her face. "Dean, why don’t you, Sam, Cas, and Claire set up the tables in the library for dinner? I want it to look nice. You boys can handle a little decorating, can’t you?".

Dean snorted. “Decorating? Uh, sure, we’ll handle it”.

Claire, who had just come in, overheard Jody’s instructions and immediately protested. "Decorating? Seriously, Jody?", she groaned, throwing her hands up dramatically. "You know I’m not exactly the Martha Stewart type".

Jody shot her a mock-serious look. "It’s Christmas, Claire. And you’re part of this family, which means you help".

Claire grumbled under her breath, but the small smile playing at her lips told you she wasn’t really upset.

Dean, hearing her complaints, threw an arm around Claire’s shoulders as they both walked out of the kitchen. “Come on, kid. We’ll make Cas do the heavy lifting. You and I can just supervise”.

Claire smirked, shaking her head but following along anyway, while you could hear Sam and Cas joining in, their voices fading as they headed toward the library.

With the boys and Claire out of the kitchen, the room settled into a comfortable hum as you, Jody, and Alex set to work on dinner. The smell of freshly peeled potatoes filled the air as you and Alex continued prepping, while Jody took command of the oven, expertly sliding in a tray of seasoned vegetables.

“So”, Jody said, glancing at you with a raised eyebrow as she wiped her hands on a towel. “How are you holding up? Got a lot on your mind, I bet”.

You hesitated for a moment, your hand pausing mid-peel, before you nodded. “Yeah… you could say that”.

Jody gave you one of her knowing looks, that calm, motherly intuition she always carried. “Anything you want to talk about?”.

You smiled softly, appreciating the offer, but shook your head. “Not right now. But… thanks, Jody”.

She nodded, not pressing, but you could tell she understood. "Whenever you're ready".

Alex, sensing the shift in conversation, changed the subject, her voice bright as she asked about dessert ideas. The easy banter and lighthearted chatter that followed made you feel a little more grounded, and soon, the rhythm of preparing the Christmas feast fell into place, calming your nerves.

As you worked alongside Jody and Alex, you could hear occasional bursts of laughter coming from the library, a sure sign that the boys—and Claire—were enjoying their task despite the initial complaints. You couldn’t help but smile, imagining the chaos they were creating while attempting to set up the dinner tables.

Tonight was still hanging over you, but for now, you allowed yourself to enjoy the moment. The warmth, the laughter, the love that filled the bunker—it was all the reassurance you needed. Whatever came next, you’d face it surrounded by the people who had become your family.

Two hours later, the whole group was gathered around the large table in the library, now decorated with Christmas lights and a mix of festive table settings. Laughter and conversation filled the room, creating a warm, comforting atmosphere that made the bunker feel more like a real home. The scent of roasted vegetables, savory meat, and freshly baked bread wafted through the air as everyone dug into the Christmas dinner you had all worked so hard to prepare.

You sat between Dean and Sam, your plate in front of you looking more full than it should, considering the slight wave of nausea that had settled over you. Despite your best efforts, eating wasn’t coming as easily as you’d hoped. It was frustrating, really—you felt like you were starving, but every bite seemed to turn heavy the moment it hit your stomach. Still, you kept a huge smile plastered across your face, determined to enjoy the moment.

As Jody regaled the group with stories from her last Christmas with Claire and Alex, everyone at the table was engaged, laughing and reacting to her animated storytelling. Claire rolled her eyes playfully at some of the more embarrassing details, but there was no denying the affection in her gaze as she listened to Jody.

“And then”, Jody continued, gesturing wildly with her fork, “Claire decided it would be a great idea to chop down her own Christmas tree—without telling me. She borrowed my axe and came back with this tiny, crooked thing. Looked like Charlie Brown’s tree on a bad day”.

Everyone erupted in laughter, Claire groaning dramatically as she covered her face with her hands. “It wasn’t that bad!”, she protested, but the grin on her face betrayed her.

Alex chimed in, laughing, “Oh, it was that bad. You’re lucky it didn’t fall over on us while we were decorating it”.

Dean chuckled beside you, shaking his head. “Sounds like Claire and I would’ve gotten along just fine as kids”.

“Of course you would”, Sam said, rolling his eyes. “Mischief attracts mischief”.

You laughed along with them, though you could feel your stomach turning slightly as you pushed some mashed potatoes around your plate. Dean, ever observant, glanced at you between bites, his eyes narrowing slightly in concern.

“Hey”, he said quietly, leaning in so only you could hear. “You okay? You’ve barely touched your food”.

Your heart skipped a beat, and you offered him a reassuring smile, though you could tell he wasn’t completely convinced. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just… not as hungry as I thought I’d be”.

Dean studied you for a moment, his hand resting gently on your knee under the table. He didn’t press further, though, which you appreciated. Instead, he gave your leg a soft squeeze before turning back to the conversation, his worry still lingering just beneath the surface.

As the evening went on, you focused on the stories and laughter around you, feeling the love and joy that filled the room. Jack, seated between Cas and Sam, was practically glowing with excitement, his eyes wide as he listened intently to each person who spoke, soaking in the warmth of the holiday spirit like it was something magical.

Occasionally, you managed a few bites of food, but the queasiness never quite went away. Still, the happiness of the evening made it easier to push the discomfort aside. Jody’s stories continued, one after another, each more hilarious than the last, and soon the entire table was in fits of laughter.

“I swear”, Jody said, wiping a tear from her eye as she finished another tale, “Christmas with these girls is never boring. If it’s not Claire taking an axe to a tree, it’s Alex burning cookies in the oven”.

Alex gasped in mock offense. “That was one time, Jody!”.

Sam grinned, leaning back in his chair. “Sounds like a Winchester Christmas, alright”.

Dean chuckled, but his attention shifted to you again, his hand still resting gently on your leg. He shot you a quick glance, as if making sure you were really okay, but before he could say anything, Jody changed the subject, pulling him back into the conversation.

For now, you kept your smile in place, the weight of your secret heavy in your heart.

The mood in the library was warm and festive as everyone gathered around the Christmas tree, glowing with twinkling lights. The bunker’s cold, utilitarian vibe had completely transformed into something that resembled a cozy family living room. Armchairs and smaller couches were draped around the tree, but despite the available space, Dean pulled you into his lap, grinning as he wrapped an arm around your waist, claiming you as his own little piece of Christmas comfort.

“Gotta save space, right?”, Dean teased, giving you a playful squeeze. You settled into him, your nerves still fluttering as you kept the small, tightly wrapped frame in your hands. You felt the solid weight of the secret within, the truth you were about to share, but you kept it to yourself for now, waiting for the right moment.

On the floor in front of the tree, Jack sat cross-legged, his eyes bright with excitement as he carefully picked up gifts, handing them out with the eagerness of a kid on Christmas morning. Sam sat nearby, his legs stretched out in front of him as he watched the scene with a fond smile. Claire and Alex were already ripping into their presents, while Jody smiled from the armchair, enjoying the chaos that had taken over the normally quiet bunker.

Dean, of course, had his focus on you, even as he tore into the gifts Jack handed him. His laughter filled the room as he opened a box from Sam containing a brand-new set of tools. “Knew I could count on you for the practical stuff”, Dean joked, giving Sam a wink.

You smiled softly, watching Dean enjoy the moment, but your heart raced as the small frame in your hands grew heavier. You could feel the ultrasound picture inside, the words Littlest Winchester written across the frame. You had thought about this moment a hundred times, imagined how it would go, but now that you were here, sitting on Dean’s lap, surrounded by the people you loved, you felt a knot of anxiety tighten in your chest.

Jack continued handing out gifts, his excitement infectious as he passed a wrapped present to Cas, who opened it slowly, carefully peeling away the paper. Dean’s hands, however, rested lightly on your hips, and you could feel his attention shifting back to you between each gift. He was smiling, but there was something in his eyes, like he knew something was on your mind.

Dean leaned in closer, his breath warm against your ear. “You alright, sweetheart? You’ve been a little quiet”.

You nodded quickly, trying to keep the nervousness out of your voice. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just… waiting for the right moment”.

Dean’s eyebrows rose slightly, but he didn’t press you further. Instead, he turned his attention back to the last few gifts Jack was handing out. But you could feel his curiosity piqued—he knew something was up, but he was giving you space.

Finally, all the presents were opened, and the room was filled with the sounds of laughter, wrapping paper scattered across the floor. Dean leaned back, his arm still securely around your waist as he admired the various gifts he had received. “This was a damn good Christmas”, he said, his voice content. “You outdid yourself this year”.

You smiled, your heart pounding in your chest as you held the small frame tighter in your hands. This was it. The right moment had arrived, and there was no turning back now.

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you slowly shifted in Dean’s lap, turning to face him slightly. “Dean”, you started softly, your voice barely above a whisper, “I have one more gift for you”.

His eyes lit up with curiosity as he tilted his head. “Another one? You’re spoiling me, sweetheart”.

You took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the moment settle over you. With trembling hands, you passed him the small, neatly wrapped frame. Dean looked down at it, his brow furrowing slightly as he took it from you, clearly sensing the significance behind it.

His fingers brushed against the wrapping paper as he tore it open, his usual playful smirk giving way to something more serious as he carefully peeled back the layers. When the frame finally emerged, his eyes immediately dropped to the image inside.

Dean froze.

His hand tightened around the frame, his breath catching in his throat as his eyes locked onto the ultrasound picture. The words Littlest Winchester written across the top of the frame seemed to echo in the air between you. For a moment, everything else in the room faded away—Jack’s chatter, Claire’s teasing, even the warm glow of the Christmas tree seemed to disappear as Dean stared at the image in front of him.

His voice, when it finally came, was rough, barely a whisper. “Is this…?”.

Dean’s world seemed to stop as he stared at the ultrasound picture, his breath hitching in his throat. His eyes wide with disbelief and something else—something deeper, rawer. Right now, in this moment, it was as if the rest of the room had faded away. It was just you and him.

You could feel the weight of his gaze on you, but you couldn’t meet his eyes. Your heart pounded in your chest, a mix of nerves and anticipation swirling inside of you. You bit your lip, your fingers trembling as you twisted them together anxiously in your lap. How would he react? This wasn’t planned. Hell, you’d been on the pill, doing everything right, and yet somehow this happened.

You had known that Dean always wanted kids, deep down. You had seen it in the way he looked at families whenever you passed them on the road, in the rare quiet moments when he let his guard down and talked about what could have been. But with his lifestyle—your lifestyle—it always seemed like an impossible dream. The topic had always been brushed off, a “what if” too dangerous to entertain.

Now, it wasn’t a “what if” anymore. It was real. It was happening. And you were terrified of how he might respond.

Tears welled in your eyes, your vision blurring as you nodded slowly, unable to find the strength to look at him. You stared down at your hands, twisting your fingers together as the silence stretched on, the tension in the air thick enough to choke on.

“I—I didn’t know… I was on the pill. I don’t know how this happened, but… it did”, you whispered, your voice trembling as the tears spilled over.

You wiped at your eyes, trying to steady your breathing. “I’m scared. I don’t know what this means for us, for everything. I just… I know it’s not what we planned, and I don’t know how you feel about it…”.

Your voice trailed off, overwhelmed by the enormity of what was happening. You didn’t dare look up at him, afraid of what you might see in his eyes—afraid that the dream you hadn’t let yourself believe in might come crashing down.

But then, after what felt like an eternity, you felt Dean’s hand move from the frame. His fingers found yours, gently prying your hands apart and wrapping them in his. His touch was warm, grounding you, and with that simple gesture, your heart clenched.

“Sweetheart”, Dean’s voice was low, thick with emotion as he finally spoke, and you could hear the slight tremble in it. He reached up, his hand cupping your cheek, gently wiping away a tear with his thumb. “Look at me”.

You hesitated, but the softness in his voice, the warmth in his touch, made you brave enough to lift your gaze to meet his. When you finally did, the sight of his eyes—wide, filled with awe and love, and glistening with unshed tears—took your breath away.

“You’re pregnant”, he whispered, like he was trying to wrap his mind around the reality of it. “We’re having a baby”.

The corners of his mouth twitched as if he wanted to smile but was still too overwhelmed to fully let it through. His eyes searched yours, trying to gauge everything you were feeling, trying to make sense of this new reality.

You nodded again, your voice barely above a whisper. “Yeah, Dean. We’re having a baby”.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. His hand still rested on your cheek, his thumb brushing gently against your skin, grounding you both in this new, terrifying, and beautiful reality.

And then, suddenly, Dean let out a shaky breath, his lips curving into the kind of smile you had rarely seen from him—one of pure, unfiltered joy. A small laugh escaped him, as if the weight of the world had just been lifted from his shoulders.

“We’re having a baby”, he repeated, this time with more conviction, his voice filled with wonder. “Holy crap”.

He pulled you closer, his arms wrapping around you tightly, holding you as if he never wanted to let go. You could feel the way his heart was racing, how overwhelmed and overjoyed he was, and it made the tears spill from your eyes all over again.

“I love you”, Dean murmured into your hair, his voice thick with emotion. “God, I love you so much. I don’t care how it happened, I don’t care about the rest. This—this is the best damn Christmas gift I’ve ever gotten”.

You let out a sob of relief, burying your face into his chest as you held onto him, your fingers gripping his shirt as you let the emotions wash over you. All the fear, the anxiety, the uncertainty—it all melted away in his embrace.

Dean kissed the top of your head, holding you close as you both stayed like that for a long moment. Finally, you pulled back slightly, looking up at him, your face wet with tears, but your heart lighter than it had been in weeks.

“Are you… are you really okay with this?”, you asked softly, still needing to hear it, still needing that final reassurance.

Dean’s eyes softened as he leaned in, pressing his forehead against yours. “More than okay”, he whispered, his breath warm against your skin. “I’ve never been more okay with anything in my life”.

Dean pulled you in even tighter, his lips meeting yours in a soft, tender kiss that carried all the emotion he couldn’t quite put into words. His hand cradled the back of your head as if to ground both of you in the moment, making you feel safe, loved, and cherished. When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his breath shaky but filled with happiness.

Without even glancing away from you, Dean blindly handed the framed ultrasound to Sam, who had been watching the two of you closely. “Hey, Sammy, check this out”, Dean muttered, his voice still thick with awe and emotion.

Sam took the frame gingerly, his brow furrowing in confusion at first as he glanced down. But when he saw what was in his hands, his expression shifted, his eyes widening in shock as he realized what he was looking at. “Holy crap”, Sam whispered, his voice echoing Dean’s earlier reaction.

The room, which had grown quiet as everyone observed the moment between you and Dean, suddenly erupted in soft gasps and murmurs as Sam held up the frame for everyone to see.

Jody’s eyes lit up with a wide smile, and her hand flew to her mouth in surprise. Claire and Alex exchanged looks, their usual tough exteriors softening into grins. Jack, sitting cross-legged on the floor, beamed, his face lighting up with pure joy. Even Cas, who had been quietly observing from the corner, allowed a rare smile to spread across his face, understanding the gravity of the moment.

Dean’s hand never left yours, his eyes locked on you as if he still couldn’t believe what was happening. “We’re really doing this”, he whispered softly, his voice full of love and a hint of disbelief.

You nodded, unable to stop the tears from flowing again, though this time they were tears of relief, happiness, and excitement for the future. “Yeah, we are”.

Sam, still holding the frame, finally found his voice again. “Dude, this is… this is incredible”. he said, his voice cracking slightly as he looked between you and Dean, his eyes misting over with pride. “I’m gonna be an uncle”.

Jody stood from her seat, stepping forward with a huge smile. “You two are going to be amazing parents”, she said warmly, her eyes shining with happiness. “This kid is already so loved”.

Claire let out a dramatic sigh from across the room, but there was no mistaking the affection in her tone. “Great, another Winchester to look after”, she teased with a smirk. “Just what we needed”.

Alex nudged Claire, rolling her eyes but laughing along. “Like you wouldn’t be first in line to babysit”.

Dean’s hand slowly wandered over your stomach, resting there as if he was already bonding with the little life growing inside you. He kept you close, his thumb lightly brushing your belly in a gentle, unconscious motion, and it sent a warmth through your entire body.

Then he looked over at Claire with that classic Dean Winchester smirk, teasingly raising an eyebrow. “Oh, you better believe you’re first in line for babysitting, Claire. You and Alex. It’s a Winchester tradition—gotta get you trained up for the dirty work early”.

Claire rolled her eyes dramatically, but her smile gave her away. “Yeah, right. I can already see it now—Dean and Y/N sneak out for a ‘quick hunt’ and I’m stuck with diaper duty”.

Dean chuckled, his eyes lighting up with amusement. “That’s the spirit! You’ll be a pro in no time, kid”.

Alex laughed from beside her, nudging Claire again. “Face it, Claire, you’re going to be Auntie Claire before you know it”.

Claire’s expression softened slightly, her tough exterior cracking just a little. “Yeah, well… I’ll do it, but only for the kid. Not for you, Dean”, she teased, crossing her arms.

Dean grinned, squeezing you closer as he shot Claire a wink. “Fair enough”.

Jack, who had been quietly observing with wide eyes, piped up from his spot on the floor. “I can help, too! I’ll keep the baby entertained, maybe teach them some… cool tricks”.

The entire room burst into laughter at that, and Dean’s hand squeezed your belly a little more, pulling you back into his chest with a look of mock concern. “Whoa, whoa, Jack. No angelic tricks around the baby just yet. We’re gonna need to stick with the basics first—like peek-a-boo, not teleporting”.

Jack nodded seriously, though the excitement in his eyes didn’t dim. “Right. No teleporting. Got it”.

Sam, still holding the framed ultrasound, smiled warmly as he watched the whole exchange, his gaze eventually landing back on you and Dean. “This kid’s going to be surrounded by more love—and more chaos—than it´ll know what to do with”.

Dean’s eyes softened as he met Sam’s gaze, the weight of the moment settling in once again. “Yeah”, he agreed, his voice quieter, more serious now. “That’s what family’s for, right?”.

You could feel Dean’s arm tighten around you protectively, and you leaned into him, feeling the overwhelming love and joy radiating from him. For so long, the idea of having a family seemed like an impossible dream for both of you, something that had been pushed aside in the face of all the danger and uncertainty. But now, sitting here surrounded by the people you loved, the dream was real.

Dean glanced down at you, his hand still resting protectively over your stomach, his expression softening into something deeper. “We’re really doing this”, he repeated, more to himself than anyone else, his eyes shining with quiet wonder.

You nodded, your hand resting on top of his as you smiled through your tears. “Yeah, Dean. We are”.

And in that moment, surrounded by your family and the warm glow of Christmas lights, everything felt right—like you were exactly where you were supposed to be. The future, as uncertain as it always seemed, felt full of hope and love. And as Dean held you close, his hand never leaving your belly, you knew that no matter what came next, you’d face it together.

———————————

A/N: Please let me know what you think.🥰

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#jensen ackles #deanwinchester #dean and sam #dean and cas #dean winchester #dean x reader #dean winchester fic #dean x y/n #dean x pregnant reader #dean x you #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester x y/n #spn #supernatural #supernatural fanfiction

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lxkeee · 1 year ago

Text

END GAME

PART ONE

pairing: lucifer x fallen angel! fem! reader

fandom: hazbin hotel

genre: fluff

warnings: no warnings yet.

notes: very feral for this man and this is multishot fic and would be writing a smut for this. Reader is close to his age (probably a hundred years younger but meh)

additional notes: this is a long one.

Part two |

[y/n] stood in the podium, her hands bound by golden chains. She looked at the higher angels who sat on the high chairs of the courtroom, her [e/c] eyes stared at them with boredom. She never liked being in heaven, so many rules to the point she couldn't breathe. She was created a few years after the infamous Lucifer fell from grace, she admired him. She has heard his cause and mentally agreed to his beliefs—she couldn't say it out loud as the higher beings would punish her. She was a good angel, always a rule follower and a good role model, then she suffered from burnt out, repeating the same thing everyday—waking up, praying, doing good, following the rules.

She started questioning their ways and now, the time has come for it to bite her back as she finally faces a trial. [Y/n] what happened the majority of her trial, she remembers doing a couple of nods in agreement and occasionally rolling her eyes whenever Adam said something stupid. She couldn't take whatever bullshit Sera was yapping about and decided to cut her off, “Enough about all these rules, just admit that us angels are egomaniacs, always hungry for control. Heck, Lucifer was right with his intentions but you guys saw it as an act of disobedience. You didn't like what he was doing since it didn't follow what you guys wanted him to do.” She said coldly, her tone making the whole room tense and cold, “he thought it was unfair to the humans to follow whatever heaven's command is without question and hesitation. But Lucifer gave them freedom,” [y/n] pauses, glaring at the higher beings, eyebrows furrowed and her eyes staring at their very soul, “Heaven is fake, you put on a show for everyone, pretending that everything is fine and this is a fun place filled with peace and we all know you guys want them to blindly follow your rules.”

“Do not ever speak his name or do you want to follow where he is?” Sera asked loudly, her voice commanding and echoing off the walls of the court but her message just made the angel in trial smirk, “Oh...? Frankly speaking, I think hell seems to be a better and more fun place than heaven. I could do whatever the fuck I want.” [y/n] says with a smirk, heart thumping loudly for the first curse word she had said. This made Sera more angry, “Then, so be it.” Sera sneers.

Falling... So this is what Icarus felt when he flew too close to the sun. Lucifer was lucky as heaven wasn't this harsh before, [y/n] closes her eyes as she felt the stinging pain of the wind caressing her back, golden ichor flowing from where her wings should be, but despite the pain, a grin was plastered on her face as she embraced the imminent pain she'll receive once she hits the burning ground of hell. Despite the extreme pain she felt on her back, the missing part of her that heaven decided to take—she felt free, shimmering tears cascades down her cheeks as she cried for her acquired freedom while simultaneously mourning for the loss of her wings. Her weak body passing by many, many clouds, passing by the crust of the earth and soon she could see the fiery red skies of hell, she can only wait for the impact.

She could hear the sound of something breaking and cracking, the loud ringing on her ears before her world turned dark. Falling from grace isn't enough to kill her.

Lucifer's usual schedule usually consists of him wallowing in self pity inside his room, making rubber ducks, or having an existential crisis in his balcony. Lucifer just so happens to be on his balcony that day, talking to his newly created rubber duck that looks like his daughter when his eyes noticed the dark red clouds of hell parting and a figure falling at extreme speeds, at first he thought it was another soul who ended up in hell but his eyes widened to see occasional gold shimmering on the figure. “What...” Lucifer murmurs in confusion, his eyes following the figure and what the...? It's about to land in his front yard.

Only his eyes widened in fear as the figure crashed and golden ichor splattered everywhere. The realization damned upon him that another angel has fallen from grace.

Shit. Shit. Shit. Lucifer never cursed so much as he jumped off the balcony, three pairs of wings springing out of his back as he quickly flew next to the crash site. “I swear to me if this person died,” this wouldn't be the first time someone died in his front yard but it would be the first time an angel would, but can an angel even die from this impact?

He quickly checked the fallen angel, identified that it's a female. She looked like such a mess, golden ichor splattered everywhere, messy hair from falling, eye bags, and passed out but despite all that, he found her to be very beautiful, “I swear to me, this isn't the time Lucifer.” he muttered to himself as he began to work and make sure this woman is treated properly. What made the king of hell freeze was when he used his power to lift her up gently, he noticed that so much blood was gushing out of her back where the bone that should connect to her wings. He just realized why this angel crashed, she couldn't fly. She doesn't have her wings anymore and that realization filled his heart with anger.

He stared at her broken form lying on the bed of the spare guest room of the castle, he couldn't fully heal her. There's a limit to how much his angelic powers could do, it can't reverse the damage heaven themselves have done to her. Thankfully, he managed to fix all broken bones and close the wounds she had received but he can't fix the trauma she'll receive from this. Believe him, he tried (with himself).

His hand caressed away the hair that was falling on her face, finally taking a good look on her. She looked more beautiful without those wounds, she looked better without the stress—a contrast to the first time he's seen her. Warmth flooding his cheeks, he doesn't even realize that the red of his cheeks has become significantly darker.

“Ah, Lucifer stop. You don't even know this woman,” Lucifer mutters in annoyance as he squeezes his own cheeks to stop the warmth before eventually leaving the guest room to continue his usual routine.

He's starting to get worried, the fallen angel that currently resides in his guest room still hasn't woken up. It's been eight days. He spent the entire week checking up on her and continuing to treat her, he admits that this unknown angel's presence did good to his mental health as he was busy worrying for her that he forgets to listen to his intrusive thoughts. “What am I going to do with you?” Lucifer mutters softly as he places his hands above her, hovering over her body as golden hue begins to glow. Slowly and surely healing her.

Aching pain in her muscles is what she felt, slowly regaining consciousness. [Y/n] woke up in an unfamiliar room, oddly reminds her of the rooms that only royalty have. She tried to move her muscles but she could feel it cracking from not moving for a long time. “What happened...?” she asked herself softly, trying to remember what happened. The trial, Sera's anger, Adam being annoying, falling, her wings, then crashing. “Where am I?” she asked herself again, her voice croaking slightly, she slowly moved her body so she could sit on the bed, her eyes wandering everywhere, taking in her surroundings. She noticed that the symbol apple and snake was present on the designs of the tinted windows. The door opens.

Another week has passed, still no sign of her waking up. Lucifer was walking towards the guest room, preparing himself to try to heal her again. He opens the door and he froze to see the fallen angel who's usually lying limp on the bed is now sitting and staring on the window. “You're awake.” he says softly and she turned to look at him, her eyes, it's so beautiful. “Who are you?” she asked him softly and he smiled, “The name's Lucifer Morningstar, welcome to hell.”

#Spotify #lxkeee hazbin hotel masterlist #lucifer morningstar x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #lucifer hazbin hotel #lucifer magne #lucifer #PLEASEE THIS WAS ORIGINALLY A SMUT BUT I DECIDED TO DO A BACKGROUND WRITING ON THEM FIRST FOR THEIR RELATIONSHIP TO BLOOM #“END GAME” — LUCIFER X READER

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yanderefarm · 4 months ago

Text

yandere crime lord x sadistic male reader

cw;; torture, burn wounds, blood, gore, stockholm syndrome, yandere, drugs, kidnapping, murder, smoking, cruel reader

here he is.... my most fucked up bby girl. i wrote this a little differently than the others... i had a different vibe in mind.

achilles is the eldest son of a notorious mob family, the second most powerful in charge right under his father. he makes lots of big decisions, like his recent attempts to take over a smaller gang with cruelty and force. unfortunately being a sexy big shot comes with its own little vices, achilles likes smoking for instance. nasty habit especially for someone in his position, doesn't he realize how vulnerable he is when he's taking a smoke break? so easy for you to drug.

you flick some of the cigarette ash towards the man in question. he's on his knees arms tied behind his back and duct tape over his mouth. he keeps shooting you dirty looks. it's funny.

"such a waste..."

you run a red room service on the dark web. essentially, anyone with enough money can hire you to kidnap and torture whoever they want. some people hire you to make elaborate snuff videos with their desires all written out for you, other people let you and your audience decide what kind of torture would take place over your live streams. that's where the handsome man in front of you came from, the gang he'd been destroying had bought your services.

you had already explained that to him, as well as mocked him for his cigarette habit. now you were letting one of the cigarettes burn before your stream actually started, you didn't actually smoke it choosing instead to let him watch you waste it. his scowl was hot.

his screams were hotter. the first hour in, you had him covered in cigarette burns and his stomach flinching away from your touch. the second hour in, he had multiple gashes all over his trembling body. the third hour in, he had finally started to sob and his body was covered in lovely bruises.

"sorry guys, we can't kill him yet. but that means we get a toy for a little while!" you gripped his hair and brought his tear stained face up to the camera. "say goodbye to our friend!"

and that ended your first stream with your new toy. you cleaned him up and brought him to his new room.

"you'll probably be the show tomorrow unless I get another job. eat up." you gave him a nice dinner and pulled the duct tape off his mouth.

"... when will I die?"

"dunno. good work chilles, sleep well. I'll most likely kill you in the morning."

that's how it began. the guy ended up being your show about half the week for the next two months. never enough to kill him and every day you cleaned up his wounds and took good care of him. he never cursed you or complained about his place he would ask you questions and thank you for the food. it was pleasant conversation, he was a nice companion in your otherwise drab life.

it was halfway into the third month when you got news that those gang members who hired you were dead. you'd been waiting the whole time for them to pay for you to kill achilles and now it was never coming. at least you made good money from your streams in the meantime.

"you're free to go." you stood in the doorway of achilles's room.

his eyes looked at you, slowly widening as he realized what you said. "wh.. why?"

"m gonna drug you up and drop you in front of your house. you won't know where you were but I'd really appreciate if you didn't try to come after me at all. "

"why are you letting me go? did something happen?"

"you should quit smoking by the way. maybe i won't be able to get you-"

you saw something in his eyes snap. those eyes that had been practically blank the whole time even when the torture made him lose his voice from screaming. now they were dark and hazy, significantly more threatening than he'd been before. he crawled on his hands and knees to your leg and looked up at you with tears in his eyes.

"why....? am i not.. did i do it wrong? i can be a good toy."

you were caught off guard by his reaction. "uh... well uh the guys who hired me like... they died without paying me to kill you. so like... i don't have a reason to keep you?"

"how much?"

"huh??"

"how much do you need to keep me?"

you reached down and gently carded your hand through his hair. "you don't want to stay here, dumbass."

"yes I do." he nuzzled his head into your hand.

"you really want to stay here and get tortured until you die? use your brain."

his darkened eyes looked up at you with the most pathetic look. "i want to stay with you."

"fuck" he's cute? he's cute. "ok...jesus, lets do this. you go home, get reunited with your family, try to get back to normal life. and I'll contact you so if you still want to be LITERALLY tortured over living your normal life I'll bring you back. ok?"

"you'll actually come get me, right?"

"yeah. I'll get you and I won't even make you pay."

"I'll be back soon." he rubbed his head against your leg. "please get your favorite tools ready."

#top male reader #dom male reader #male reader #yandere oc #sub yandere #yandere x male reader #yandere ideas #yandere x reader #yandere crime lord

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serpentandlily · 1 year ago

Text

Sly Fox, Dumb Bunny III

Sly Fox, Dumb Bunny - Eris x Archeron!Reader

Summary: You find yourself ensnared by a sly, cunning fox. A very handsome, irritating one.

Warnings: none

a/n: hope you enjoy this one just as much as the others!

➻❥ Part I ➻❥ Part II

· · ─────── ·♡· ─────── · ·

Part III

· · ─────── ·♡· ─────── · ·

“That was…weird,” Mor remarked.

You agreed. You had no idea what to make of Eris’s behavior. Feyre and Rhys seemed to be locked in a mental conversation, leaving the rest of you to silence. You rubbed at your arm, suddenly feeling very uncomfortable. You didn’t want to create any problems for your sister but you also didn’t want to leave.

“He had a point,” Rhys finally said before looking at you with those violet eyes that reminded you far too much of a certain pair of amber ones. They both held too many secrets. “But I don’t think Beron will prove to be much of a problem as long as we keep his focus on other things.”

Feyre nodded along. “Besides, what is Beron going to do about it, anyways? Short of killing us, there is nothing to be done.”

You felt a flicker of fear but pushed it down. Rhys was the most powerful High Lord. Surely he would defend you and your sister if it came down to it. Feyre was also powerful in her own right and could fight for herself but you…

“We won’t let any harm come to you,” Rhys promised, his voice softening. “And what did I say about keeping those mental shields up?”

You turned red and quickly slammed the gates to your mind closed.

“I would like to stay,” you mumbled, sheepishly. “But I don’t want to cause problems.”

Mor waved a dismissive hand. “Nonsense. Eris talks out of his ass most of the time. He probably just wanted to put us on edge. You being here is not a problem, doll.”

You didn’t feel comforted in the slightest.

“Well, if that's settled,” Rhys said, standing up. “I believe it is time for us to make our way towards the meeting room.”

You let out a breath, trying to settle your nerves from Eris’s display. Feyre gave you a small smile, linking her arm through yours. “Don’t look so nervous. There’s going to be some friendly faces in the crowd.”

You nodded, still feeling anxious about the whole thing. Although you hardly considered Vassa and Jurian your friends, at least you were familiar with them. Unfortunately, you were also familiar enough with Lord Nolan and his son.

Feyre placed her other hand in Rhys’s extended elbow and the two of them led you out of the chambers and into the wide corridor. Your breaths were still shaky once your group got to the staircase that would lead you to the meeting room with the reflection pool.

Feyre unwrapped her arm from yours and Azriel stepped forward instead.

“Azriel is going to escort you in,” she explained. “If you feel nervous, just stay by his side. Okay?”

You gave her a small nod and let them lead the way forward. When your group finally reached the top of the staircase, you were a bit relieved to see that the Autumn Court wasn’t present yet. Your eyes darted around the room, landing on all the various High Lords and their entourages, trying to place them in their respective courts.

“That right there is Tarquin,” Azriel whispered from beside you, following your eyesight. “High Lord of Summer.”

“And him?”

“Kallias, High Lord of Winter. His wife and mate, Vivianne, is the female next to him.”

“Another High Lady?”

“Not quite,” Azriel answered. He inclined his head towards a different group. “That’s Helion, High Lord of the Day Court.”

The male he nodded to was quickly approaching your group, a serpentine smile on his face. Gods, you were still not quite used to how beautiful the fae were. Helion looked like a God in his own right. His eyes passed over your group until they landed on you and lingered for a second longer.

You watched as he greeted Feyre, Rhysand and Mor before turning his head towards you and Azriel.

“Shadowsinger,” he nearly purred, “Always happy to see you.”

Azriel didn’t smile, didn’t move. In fact, he shot the High Lord an exasperated look as if this flirtatious behavior was all too common. That didn’t stop you from blushing when the High Lord looked at you and smiled coyly.

“And who might you be?”

He reached out a hand but before you could open your mouth, the High Lord was suddenly knocked to the side, stumbling over himself.

“My apologies, High Lord,” Eris sneered at Helion. “Perhaps you shouldn’t stand in the middle of a walkway.”

Eris strode away before Helion could even respond, his brothers trailing after him, glaring around the room. Your jaw nearly dropped at his audacity but you quickly schooled your face, watching Helion glare at their backs. He seemed to shake off the encounter quickly, his charming persona snapping back into place as your sister came up on your side.

“Helion,” she said, “this is my sister, Y/n. She’s here to help us discuss the peace treaty with the humans.”

Your introduction with Helion was short lived as Thesan called for the start of the meeting now that everyone was here. The first half of the meeting was just with the fae before the human leaders were to be brought in. Since you were primarily there for the humans, your thoughts drifted away as the fae leaders began their discussions.

Your eyes trailed over all the courts—taking interest in how different each fae looked depending on where they came from. But your gaze kept falling on one fae in particular. The red headed male sat behind his daunting father. He hadn’t once looked in your direction. Part of you was glad for it, because it would be embarrassing to be caught blatantly staring at him as you were. Another part of you longed for him to look your way… You had no idea where that feeling came from.

Eris was dressed far more formally than he had been the last two times you had seen him. He wore a dark green vest stitched with golden thread, tiny leaves embroidered along the seams, on top of a cream button up. A golden fox brooch was pinned at the neck of his collar, probably the Vanserra family’s emblem. His pants were an even darker green, almost appearing black and neatly tucked into his boots. Around his shoulders was a matching green cape coat embellished in gold detailing much like his vest.

His red hair looked like a raging fire next to all the green, his pale skin glistening in the soft lighting of the room. He was so distractingly beautiful, even with that familiar haughty smirk on his face. It didn’t matter that there were far more powerful, commanding fae in the room. Your eyes could not keep off him.

Like a moth to flame.

Eris’s honey amber eyes finally met yours and you felt something snapped inside of you. You gasped as a golden thread unraveled within you and shot out across the room—all the way to the male seated across from you….all the way to Eris.

Mate.

The word clanged through your head, drowning all other thoughts.

Mate.

Eris was your mate.

In your shock, you missed the warning look Eris shot your way. You gasped, loudly, drawing the attention of the room as you stood so suddenly, your chair was knocked to the ground behind you. Your heart was pounding in your chest, that golden thread thrumming with sparks of flame.

Your sister quickly rose from her seat, placing a hand on your upper arm to steady you. Azriel too had jumped up, his hand ghosting over Truth-teller, as if ready for whatever invisible threat was occuring.

Eris stood abruptly, almost panting. Your eyes never left those amber ones. Not even as they seemed to plead with you to sit, to hide, to disappear from this room entirely.

“What’s wrong?” Feyre asked, her voice hurried and filled with concern. Her eyes followed your line of sight and darted back to you and down to the hand you held to your chest.

Rhysand seemed to catch on to what was happening quicker.

“Azriel, get her out of here,” he ordered the shadowsinger.

A scarred hand wrapped around yours and a second later, you were engulfed in a wave of shadows.

· · ─────── ·♡· ─────── · ·

“Rhysand,” Thesan said, “Please answer for that display. What antics have occurred in your court to disrupt such a meeting?”

Feyre’s hands were shaking as Rhysand latched onto them, guiding her back to her chair softly. “Apologies, Y/n is still a bit sensitive to magic since coming out of the cauldron. You’ll have to forgive her sudden departure.”

“And here I thought you had moved on from your lying and deceiving ways, Rhysand,” Beron jumped in, his voice filled with wicked amusement. “It appears a congratulation is in order.” He turned to face his son. “It seems to me that a mating bond has just snapped into place.”

Eris’s face was unreadable as he sat back down, fists clenched at his sides.

“Explain yourselves,” Tarquin interjected, looking bemused. “How do you have another Made female in your court, Rhysand?”

“She is my sister,” Feyre declared. “And she was there the day Hybern forced all of them into the cauldron.”

“Why was she not included in the reports from that day?” Thesan asked, sitting up straighter.

“She was under our protection,” Rhysand answered. “She was hardly more than a child at the time.”

“Liar. She never came out of the cauldron,” Tamlin said, sharply, eyes narrowing. “Your reports never included her because she never came out of the cauldron that day.”

“Well, considering you all just saw her alive and in person,” Rhysand shrugged, picking a piece of lint from his coat. “Obviously, she did. Perhaps your head was too far up Hybern’s ass to see.”

Tamlin growled but was cut off by Beron.

“Where have you taken my son’s mate?” Beron demanded.

“That is none of your concern.”

“Rhysand, you cannot possibly keep her away from her mate,” Thesan said. “He is entitled—”

“He is entitled to nothing,” Feyre snapped. “The Night Court does not force females to accept mating bonds. As she falls under our jurisdiction, she has our full protection against any of your antiquated beliefs.”

“Leave it to the Night Court to spit on traditions,” Beron hissed. “A mating bond works both ways. As the other half falls under my jurisdiction, my son has all the right to invoke a blood duel if you wish to keep her from him.”

The Lady of Autumn looked alarmed at her husband’s words but said nothing. Neither did Eris, who seemed to be choosing his next moves very carefully.

“Wouldn’t be the first time the Night Court stole a female away,” Tamlin said, sarcastically, rolling his eyes.

“Oh please, spare us from revisiting your despair,” Helion chuckled, humorlessly.

“Have we all forgotten why we are here today?” Kallias cut in, his tone cold. “Must we argue over something that does not involve the rest of our courts? This meeting has already been derailed and some of us have better things to do with our time then listen to squabbles.”

“This is not over, Rhysand,” Beron hissed. Eris still sat stoically behind his father, not faltering in the slightest. “You and I have much to discuss after we deal with the humans lest you wish to start a conflict between our courts.”

“Fine,” Rhysand growled. “But prepare yourself and your son for disappointment.”

· · ─────── ·♡· ─────── · ·

You paced in the sitting room in the River House, your heart still beating rapidly, your thoughts out of control. A mating bond. A godsdamn mating bond had snapped between you and Eris of all people. Eris, the male whose reputation followed him like darkened clouds. Eris, the male who had left Mor to die in the woods all those years ago. Eris, the Heir of Autumn, the son of one of the most ruthless fae in all of Prythian.

Surely it was a mistake. It had to be.

“Why don’t you sit down?” Elain suggested, gently, patting the cushion beside her on the couch. “Feyre will get it all sorted out. You needn’t worry so much.”

“How can I not worry? How can I not worry when Eris of all people is my mate, Elain?” You rubbed at your chest, already feeling an emptiness there now that you had been separated from him. “This must be a mistake. A trick, perhaps?”

“Perhaps,” Elain agreed, though she didn’t sound like she believed it for one second. “But there’s not much you can do about it now. Not until they return from the meeting.”

You let out a long breath and plopped onto the couch next to her. Elain brushed a hand through your hair, guiding you to lay down on her lap. “It’ll be okay, Y/n. A mating bond isn’t the end of all things. Feyre would never let that male get his hands on you.”

But that was the problem, wasn’t it? Some part of you wanted that male. Not the Eris that the others saw. But the one you had seen in those secret moments between the two of you. The alluring fox behind the mask.

Your heart sang for him now that the mating bond had snapped into place. He hadn’t seemed surprised in the slightest….like he had already known about it. Had it snapped for him? Had he known this whole time that you were his mate? Why wouldn’t he tell you? Maybe…

maybe he didn’t want you…

Hours went by. The whole night passed. You didn’t stray from the couch, neither did Elain. You appreciated your sister comforting you. You wished Nesta wasn’t on her mating vacation and was here to help you as well…maybe she would know what to do.

The door to the house opening had you sitting up, rubbing at your red rimmed eyes. Elain woke abruptly as well, wiping the drool that was dribbling from the corner of her mouth. Feyre, Rhysand and Mor strode in, all looking just as exhausted as you.

“Well, I’m glad that shitshow is over,” Mor said, falling on one of the settees dramatically.

A second later, Amren and Azriel came into the room, both wearing unreadable expressions. Amren’s silver eyes studied you for a moment before moving to Feyre and Rhysand.

“How’d it go?”

“Awful,” Rhysand sighed. “No one could come to an agreement.”

“Did the humans not want to sign?” You asked, purposefully avoiding the other topic.

Feyre shook her head. “No, they were…even less receptive than we thought they’d be.”

“What happens now?” Elain asked.

“We go through that again and again, I suppose,” Rhys answered. “Until a peace treaty is signed.”

The room fell into a heavy silence until you broke it, minutes later.

“And…and what of…” You trailed off, unable to say the words, unable to ask about the male that had been on your mind since you had been whisked away from the meeting.

“Beron will be visiting the Court of Nightmares tomorrow,” Rhys said, hesitantly, gauging your emotions. “To discuss what is to be done. It is unfortunate that he knows about the bond now because there is little Eris can do as long as his father is in power.”

“He can finally kill the bastard,” Mor grumbled into a pillow.

“We must tread carefully,” Amren said. “If Eris is forced to call for a blood duel against Rhysand, he will die and one of his brutish brothers will be next in line for the throne.”

“What!” You exclaimed. “A blood duel? Would he…would he really do that? Fight Rhysand even if it means certain death?”

Eris was powerful, sure. But he was still only an heir, not a full blown High Lord like Rhysand. He would be misted in seconds. Just that thought of it sent you into a panic.

“I’ll fight him in your place,” Azriel said, darkly, looking at Rhys but he shook his head.

“We cannot risk that,” Rhys said.

“Do you really think Beron would have his own son fight and die in a blood duel?” Feyre asked.

“Of course he would. One less person he has to keep off his throne,” Amren said.

“He’s a monster,” Elain whispered, staring at you with concern.

“Yes, he is,” Rhys sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “So we must do as Amren said and tread very carefully.”

· · ─────── ·♡· ─────── · ·

The next day, you stood in the foyer of the River House, dressed in a simple dark blue, silk dress. Your stomach was tossing and turning with nerves, scared of what would happen during this meeting with Beron. You hated that you were causing your sister and Rhysand so much stress, hated that you were in the middle of this conflict.

You wished you could turn back time. Wished you could go back to that moment the mating bond snapped so you could hide the realization better. You had always worn your heart on your sleeve and it had finally bit you in the ass.

You had no idea how today was going to play out.

You were certain of one thing, though. You ached to see Eris again. The mating bond had nearly kept you up all night. Feyre had tried teaching you how to block if off, but it was hard. Eris seemed to have no problem keeping his side of the bond locked down. It infuriated you to know he was probably feeling every single emotion from you.

“Are you ready?” Rhys asked as Feyre, Mor and Azriel slid into view.

Rhys and Feyre were dressed like they always were when making trips to Hewn City. Mor wore a scandalous red dress that clung to her beautiful curves and Azriel wore his Illyrian leathers, as per usual, all seven siphons on display.

You nodded, unable to even speak.

The next hour seemed to happen while you were stuck in a daze. Rhys winnowed you all to Hewn City and led you into the throne room where everyone was waiting. Word must’ve spread quickly of what had occurred. Keir escorted Beron and Eris into the throne room after the formalities were done.

You couldn’t find the nerve to look at Eris now that you were in the same room. You had shown your hand during that meeting and had caused an avalanche to fall in its wake. You felt guilty, ashamed and scared…so scared.

A dumb bunny, indeed.

Rhys and Feyre led you all to a private meeting room, shutting the door in Keir’s face as he tried to join. You sat, hiding your shaking hands in your lap, keeping your eyes on the floor.

“Well, I assume you have come to your senses by now,” Beron said, leaning back in his chair as if he commanded the room. “The girl comes with us. The Night Court owes Autumn a bride as it is.”

His glare focused on Mor for a moment and she scoffed in his direction.

“Not so fast, Beron,” Rhysand tsked, pouring himself a glass of wine. “We don’t owe you anything. It was your court that ultimately broke the marriage agreement all those years ago.”

Beron sat up with a sneer. “I believe it was broken the moment that girl decided to whore herself out to an Illyrian bastard of all people.”

You tensed in your seat, gripping the dress in your fists.

“Father, please,” Eris sighed, making you look up at him finally.

Beron glanced at his son before turning back to Rhysand. “You should be overjoyed that we’re willing to take the girl as it is, considering the beasts in your court have probably ran through her already.”

“Watch your mouth,” Feyre snapped.

The smell of burning wood filled the room and Eris flexed his hands, new scorch marks on the table underneath them. “Don’t speak of her like that.”

Beron laughed. It was an awful sound. “Right, my apologies, son. Don’t worry, those mating instincts will go away once you’ve fucked her for a near century.”

Your face turned bright red at the crude words. Eris growled. The sound was so primitive, so animalistic. It sent chills down your spine. Even Beron looked unnerved for a moment.

“You are not winning yourself any favors,” Rhysand purred, smirking at the older male. “Have you any dignity?”

“Have you?” Beron bit back. “You all but spit on the face of the Mother by keeping her away from her mate. This is more of a blessing for you then it is us. A marriage alliance with Autumn, one you do not deserve that we are graciously offering.”

“Let me make myself clear, Beron, since you refuse to listen,” Rhysand snapped. “Our court has no laws that require a female to accept a bond. You would really go to war over something like this? While our courts are still recovering from the last one?”

Rhys and Feyre had theorized that Beron was so adamant about forcing you into the bond not because he cared for his son, but for two other reasons. One, you were Made. They had all seen how powerful Nesta was because of it and Beron craved power above all else.

Two, it was another way to keep Eris in check. To dangle you over his head as a threat.

“Perhaps we should ask what she wants,” Mor interjected.

“What she wants does not matter,” Beron snarled. “She is mated to an Autumn male, by our laws she must accept.”

“She is a resident of our court,” Feyre argued back. “She does not have to accept it.”

“Then you leave us no choice,” Beron said, rising from his seat. He planted his palms on the table, staring at you all of a sudden. You crumbled into yourself. “Is that what you want, girl? You want us to declare a blood duel against your family?”

You shook your head as Rhysand stood, slamming his own hands on the table. “You would have your son fight in a blood duel against me, a High Lord?”

“Oh, it wouldn’t be against you,” Beron laughed, cruelly. His eyes fell on Feyre. “And it wouldn’t be my son. I will demand a blood duel against your mate. A mate for a mate. Very fitting, don’t you agree?”

Feyre versus Beron…. That bastard had planned this. You’d all been so concerned with Eris declaring a blood duel you didn’t even realize this would be a way Beron could kill Feyre as he wished in a legal way—as barbaric as it was.

And most of the other courts held the mating bond in such regard, you wondered if you’d find any allies against him for doing this beside Helion.

Rhysand growled, darkness leaking off of him,

“And I will just fight you in her place.”

Beron smiled. “Oh, but you see, you can’t. Once a blood duel has been declared you either surrender to the terms or fight. I don’t know where you got your information from but there are no place holders allowed.”

Your heart was racing in your chest.

Silence fell so heavy in the room your ears were ringing. All of this was all your fault. You felt tears line your eyes. You couldn’t let Feyre fight for you. You wouldn’t. Even though she could probably hold her own against him, he was ages older than her—more battle worn. She’d be at a huge disadvantage.

And Eris couldn’t do anything about this, not if it was his father who wished to fight a blood duel. He couldn’t order his father not to.

You couldn’t let her do this. You owed your life to her, you owed everything to her. It was time to start fighting your own battles.

“I’ll go,” you whispered, so quietly you wondered if you had even said the words out loud. “I’ll go.”

Feyre’s head whipped to you. “No, absolutely not.”

But you shook your head. “I do not want anyone fighting on my behalf. I will go with them.”

Beron’s grin grew into one that could rival the devil himself.

· · ─────── ·♡· ─────── · ·

“We will find a way out of this,” Feyre whispered into your ear as she hugged you. “I promise. Just hold out for us, okay? We’ll get you out of there.”

You nodded, pulling away to brush the tears off her cheek. You weren’t even going to be able to say goodbye to Elain and Nesta. Beron was demanding that you leave right away.

“I’ll be okay, Fey,” you murmured to her.

“Enough of the dramatics,” Beron called out. “We’re leaving. Now.”

Eris didn’t look at you as he held out a hand. You swallowed audibly and walked to his side, grasping it softly. You spared one last glance at your sister before you were winnowed out of Hewn City and into the den of foxes.

“Come here, girl,” Beron barked, now standing before his throne. “Let me get a look at you.”

You glanced at Eris but he just stood there, stoically, not meeting your gaze. You walked towards Beron, trying not to shake in fear.

The older male grasped your chin in his hand, turning your face from side to side as he examined you. Eris’s other brothers stood at the bottom of the dais, their wolfish grins doing little to make you less nervous. The Lady of Autumn was seated in a small chair to the side of the throne, her eyes not lifting from the floor.

“You look just like my other son’s mate,” he remarked. “Smaller, though. The runt of the family, I’m assuming. Pity. Were you not fed properly as a child?”

You weren’t even sure how to reply to that. You decided not to respond and Beron’s eyes narrowed.

“Hmm,” he mused, finally letting go of you. “Have you sullied yourself with those beasts?”

“Father,” Eris growled, stepping up next to you. “That is enough.”

Beron chuckled, mirthlessly, waving a dismissive hand. “Fine, take her away and get her out of those whorish clothes.”

Eris grabbed you by your upper arm and dragged you out of the throne room. You had to walk quickly, trying to keep up with his long legs as he led you down corridor after corridor. The Forest House was magnificent, beautiful. It was a shame that someone like Beron ran this court, you thought, as you studied the place.

Eris finally stopped in front of a room, yanking the door open and pushing you inside. You glared at him as he slammed the door shut behind him, crossing your arms. You were inside of a huge suite, it seemed. A lavish sitting room, with two doors on either side, likely leading to a bedroom and bathing chamber.

“These are my quarters,” Eris explained as he shrugged off his cape coat and tossed it on the red, velvet couch. He began to unbutton his vest as he faced you. “You are to stay here. Do not leave without an escort. Tomorrow, I will assign you two handmaidens to help you.”

Your eyes widened. “I’m…I’m meant to stay here…in your room?”

Eris let out a long sigh. “It is the safest place for you and I do not want to risk rumors.”

“B-but surely this is improper,” you stuttered. “We are not properly mated.”

Eris let out a cruel laugh. “We wouldn’t be in this situation if you hadn’t made such a spectacle at the High Lords’ meeting so don’t start complaining to me.”

You felt a flare of anger.

“You knew,” you grumbled. “You knew about the mating bond between us and you didn’t tell me! Perhaps if you had told me, I wouldn’t have even been in that room! I would’ve stayed home.”

“Unlikely,” Eris sneered, pouring himself a glass of whiskey from a decanter on a bar cart behind the couch. He chugged the drink down, loosening his collar with his other hand. “You don’t seem to have a lot going on in that pretty little head of yours, bunny. Did you ever stop to think about why I might be hiding it?”

“You are such a prick,” you snapped. “I am not one of your little pawns. I am not a part of your stupid games! You should have told me!”

You went to whirl around but Eris grabbed your wrist, dragging you closer to him. You glared up at him, ignoring the way his heat enveloped you in its embrace.

“This is not a game to me,” Eris growled. “Have you any idea what you’ve cost me? Have you any idea what he will do to you if I so much as take a single step out of line now?”

You yanked your wrist out of his grip. “Have you any idea what this has cost me? I’m the one who's been forced out of my home—forced to come here!”

“And who’s fault is that?”

Eris slammed the empty glass down on the cart.

“Gods, sorry I couldn’t read your oh-so-clever mind! Sorry I couldn’t act like an emotionless shell of a person like you!”

“Watch how you speak to me,” Eris snarled. “I can make your life here a living hell, bunny.”

“I’m not scared of you, Eris,” you snapped. “You don’t fool me. I see the real you under that mask and you know what I think—I think it is you who is scared.”

Eris ran a hand through his hair, frustrated. “You know nothing. Do you understand? Nothing.”

“Then tell me! Tell me so I can help you! I know you do not wish to see your father in power much longer. Let me help!”

Eris grabbed your chin in his hand, forcing you to look up at him. You hated how cold his amber eyes looked.

“No. Absolutely not. I will not involve you in the slightest,” he snarled before his eyes softened and his hand slipped to cup your cheek instead. “I cannot…I cannot bear to see this place make you cruel. Stay here, where you’ll be safe, bunny. Leave everything else to me. You were not made for this place. But me…You have no idea what kind of monster I can be.”

Eris’s hand dropped back to his side and he stepped away from you, heading towards the door. You were breathing so heavily, your lungs constricting your ribs against the dress you wore.

“Can we talk about this? Please!”

He said nothing, reaching for the handle of the door.

“Eris, please!”

His hand fell against the doorframe, flame licking at the wood—scorching it again. A growl rumbled through his chest and his head hung between his shoulders but he didn’t turn around, didn’t look at you.

“Do not,” he groaned. “Do not say my name like that.”

And then he was gone, leaving you completely alone.

· · ─────── ·♡· ─────── · ·

When you woke up later that night, you found yourself in an unfamiliar room. You sat up, realizing you were laying in a bed. You were certain you had fallen asleep on the couch, not wanting to even go into Eris’s bedroom.

The silk, dark orange sheets next to you were undisturbed. You rubbed at your eyes, getting up from under the covers. You were still in the dress you had fallen asleep in.

You padded over to the door, opening it slowly. You took two steps into the sitting room before you froze in your spot.

There, on the couch, was Eris. The fireplace was roaring in front of him as he slept, a lump on the floor by his feet. You blinked away the blurriness in your eyes to see what it was.

Ashera was curled up there, the dog you had met that day you had accidentally winnowed into the forest here. She slept soundly on the floor next to him.

You stepped back into the bedroom and closed the door behind you, quietly, not wanting to disturb them.

· · ─────── ·♡· ─────── · ·

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omgfangirlland · 4 days ago

Text

The Shadows That Nurture 14

ch 15 is done so y'all can have ch 14, these are getting longer and longer- If I somehow end up passing 4k words I'll have to break these into pt1 and pt2 🥲

Also- y'all can not rip Jason's finger tattoos saying "jailbird" from me, ever.

Masterlist || First || previous<< Chapter 14 >>next

Your hands were shaking as Slade led you to one of the many bathrooms in the building, but despite everything, you were proud of yourself. You didn’t cry, that was good enough in your book. “You were fast with that throw. Not many get a hit on the man, as clumsy as he fakes being.” His voice only seemed to make you angrier.

You took a deep breath, exhaling softly. He hasn’t done anything to you, yet at least. You’re not angry at him- is what you had to repeat to yourself before answering. “I wish it was a knife.” Your face twitched at that. “That- was a very emotionally fueled answer- please don’t hold it against me.” Willson was more amused by the answer than scared or worried.

“You won’t be the first, and you won’t be the last.” The man took his handkerchief and dampened it, leaning against the marble sink as he handed it to you, and you thanked him while taking it. “I’ll hold you up to paying for the cleanup, by the way. I love this suit. Now- why did you really want to talk?”

“Straight to the point I see.” At his smile, you just shrug. “Never was one for pull and push games.” Perhaps it was your hormones, or just how much you’ve repressed your emotions for other human beings due to hurt, but his laugh made your cheeks flush. You were putting a pin on that feeling, for now just dismissing it as anger at the male species.

“I just want to talk, get to know you better.” He went to the modern toilet and took out its wall panel, pulling out a briefcase. “You’ve made quite the name for yourself. Among terrible people.” Slade opens the briefcase once it is on the marble top, revealing his gear and a clean pair of clothes. “So, you want to assassinate me?”

“Assassination is for world leaders, my dear.” The shit-eating grin definitely made you think whatever you were feeling was anger. “But you’re not far off. We have similar enemies.” You took the clean shirt he handed to you, took the wet wipes straight from the case, and went straight for the room divider, Slade turning his back to you. “So- what, you want me to help you and when push comes to shove, you’ll help me?” He could hear the doubt, the sarcasm, and the distrust. But he just smiled. “Yes.”

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Luthor just kept on looking at you for a few seconds as you lay face down on his emperor-sized bed. “Is that his shirt?” He got a muffled yes in response. “He hid a briefcase in your wall and gave me the spare, said he’ll come back with the clean suit… I so think he wanted to kill you or steal something you have here.” Lex just hummed at that, tapping his foot. “And?” You groaned. “Where do I even begin?”

“Well, you could start from the beginning?” Lex said while getting up and grabbing a set of pajamas and tossing them on your back. You sigh and place your head on your hand, turning your body sideways so you can look at him. “I have parental issues and a part of me finds his stupid eye-patch so hot.” You cackled maniacally as Luthor’s face soured. “Ok. How about we skip forward a bit?” He almost begged.

“Alright- wait-…” You take a closer look at the pajamas. “These are my size.” Your eyes meet his as he confirms with no shame on his mug. “Are you not going to ask why?” Sighing you just get up and move towards his bathroom. “You either want a kid or a wife and I’m not mentally sound enough right now for either one. And I’m sleeping with mom- I so do not believe you didn’t put cameras in my room, you weirdo.”

“I’m a paranoid billionaire genius. I have cameras in every room.” It was his turn to laugh like a maniac as he heard you call him a weirdo again.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

With everyone out of the manor, it was finally time for Alfred to clean the whole bloody place. These moments were rare, and while Master Bruce insisted on him taking a break, he wasn’t a man to stay in one place for long without work.

He began from the ground up, the cave, the yard. The ground floor and the first level came and went, on the second level he may have gotten distracted by the new books Bruce got for Jason, and by the time the man of the house got back, Alfred was halfway done with the third floor.

Opening yet another door, his eyes immediately critiqued the dust, barely processing the objects before beginning to clean, starting with a little framed photo and the nightstand. It took him two looks before he registered what the picture depicted- a little girl at her kindergarten graduation event. He doesn’t remember Miss Cassandra this young, Master Bruce must have-

No… Cassandra never went to kindergarten. Alfred drops the cloth he was wiping off the dust with, head snapping around the room- Paintings, so many paintings, drawing supplies. Medals, diplomas- the more of them he wiped with his gloved hand the more the man trembled, heart beating against his ribcage, the same way it did on the active battlefield- where were you?

A child- a whole child- no. He saw you- yes. In the garden, yelling at Bruce- that-… that was six years ago. Six years ago. Six bloody years ago. Somewhere in his panicked frenzy, a hopeful part of him just thought that maybe you changed rooms, yes, that’s why he began screaming your name like a madman, bursting through the rooms he hadn’t yet opened, screaming as he went down the staircase, rechecking rooms, scaring the kids that were in the manor.

Damian frowned at Cassandra and Tim. “Has Pennyworth lost it?” The girl didn’t even pay him any mind as she simply followed the elder. “No, he-… Where is she?” Tim tried to respond but the distraction got to him- he can’t remember the last time he saw you. Damian had no other choice but to follow as well.

Even though the old man used the stairs he was the first to enter the batcave, the kids following in the elevator. “-she’s missing-“ was what they caught, seeing the picture frame Alfred ran around with now clenched in Bruce’s hands.

“No.” Cassandra said softly, confusion clear on her face. “In London.” Alfred looked at the man as he tried to hide his fury. “You sent the young miss to London without even telling me?” Bruce immediately said a firm no, turning to Cassandra to ask how she even knew of that. “Is anyone going to inform me about who we are talking about?!”

Damian had enough, he didn’t like still being left in the dark about things that seemed this important. Tim repeated your name like it was obvious, but Alfred felt the world crash on his head. “Yes. So you all keep on saying, is that code for something?” The old man needed to sit down. They’ve never talked about her. They’ve never told him about her.

Tim was too tired to realize what Alfred did. He just called the boy rude, how could he not remember his other big sis. And it was the wrong thing to do. “I have another sister, and you didn’t tell me? Nobody did?!” The youngest boy snapped at his father before turning to look at everyone else.

Bruce- he was taking hit after hit tonight. He couldn’t come up with an argument to Slade, and he sure as hell couldn’t defend himself against Damian. The last time he remembered seeing you was when he ruined your garden. He slumped down in his chair, clutching the picture of your sad chubby face and the pitying look of the teacher, unable to take his eyes from it.

Where was he? He… He can’t defend himself. How could he? He didn’t even realize you were missing. How much has he missed? How many events and achievements has he ignored or brushed off? Did you leave that night, was that the last drop? He ignored his arguing kids, ignored how devastated Alfred looked… Jason said he was missing a bird. Bruce closes the open files on The Sorceress. “Tim, inform Dick and the others. Oracle. Call Red Hood. Now.”

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Lois sighed and turned to face her husband who was fully awake. “Ok, come on, confess.” Clark didn’t even flinch, not until she shook his shoulder. He side-eyed her before turning to also face her, sure that Jon was deeply asleep. “What I’m about to tell you should stay just between us.”

“The Sorceress is adopted, her dad is Bruce.” Lois raised a brow but before she could ask for more Clark continued. “I heard her brother and Lex inform the Immortal about it. The boy mentioned that, and I quote, the bastard didn’t pay attention to her for years and now has the gall to show up and act like he doesn’t know her. Lex was sure of the fact that Bruce didn’t even know that she had run away, to begin with, let alone how the kid he barely spent time with looked like anymore”

Lois took a while to soak in the information. “That’s…” She lies back on her back, staring at the ceiling like her husband once was. “If it’s true- it’s a new low for him. I'll look into it.” She looks at Clark. “Don’t let Jon hear that, he’ll-“

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

“-and that’s what my dad said.” Jon, who was still in his pajamas, huffing from how fast he flew and talked, told Damian once they were in the security of the youngest Wayne’s room. The other boy just nodded. “Thank you for informing me, Jon. Make sure you do not repeat this to anyone else.”

“You should go back before your parents realize you’re missing.” Damian opened the window for the other teen. “Are you sure? Because if you’re not okay-“ Damian shook his head. “I’m perfectly fine, I’ll take care of this and give the information to someone who will be able to confirm what Superman heard."

The young super took a while before leaving, but the fear of his parents finding him gone was bigger. Damian on the other hand was already penning a letter. If the family kept such important information from him, he could too.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Your day was- tiring. You may have overdone it a bit, studying for finals, the anxiety of giving your artwork in for the diploma, helping with clean up, training, helping Titan clean spaces for more housing- by the time you were done you were exhausted.

When the explosion went off, you didn’t even flinch, the text message from Mark saying “dnt wor abt it” was good enough for you. So, you just continued buying your little snacks and energy drinks for tomorrow and went on your way, floating as you simply couldn’t be bothered with walking.

If you were, perhaps, not as tired as you were, you would have been a little bit more concerned about the swarm of reporters or paparazzi, you couldn’t even try to figure it out. “Madame Sorceress! What is your relationship to Mr. Wayne?” and “Hey! Hey, over here! How do you know Bruce Wayne?!” and a lot of similar questions you couldn’t be bothered to answer. “Sorceress! Why do you have beef with Mr. Wayne?”

Now that stopped your movement. You slowly turned towards the person who asked, squinting at the redhead. “You want that in chronological or alphabetical order?” That seemed to trigger more questions and yelling, but your attention was on your ringing phone. “Sorry folk, I have to take this.” Sluggishly, you flew higher than they could be able to pick up with any listening device and answered. “Sup’ Red-“

Your brows furrowed. “Now they found out?... How much?” Jason just snorted. “B tried to interrogate me and when that didn’t work out, Alfred tried to tug at my emotions. Right under their nose and they’re still not seeing it.” You snort. “You’re creating yourself trouble. Just tell them, not like they can do anything now.” Jason knew, but this- the phone number, the texting, and silly pics, was something the other bats didn’t have access to. It was something only he had, that he didn't have to share with the others. He wants it to stay that way. “Nah, let them stew in it.” Jason snickered. “Whatever, Jailbird. Good night.” You roll your eyes, laughing when he yells that you weren’t supposed to know that.

Tag list: @bat1212 @trashlanternfish360 @shycreatorreview @syrooo @a-lurking-fae @alittletiredcry @kittzu @plsfckmedxddy @blackhood1229 @nxdxsworld @leeiasure @dandelion-delusion @lovebug-apple @sillysealsies @tsxukikami @enchantingarcadecreation @alishii @d3nnji @itsberrydreemurstuff @yuyuzi-ling @welpthisisboring @1abi @mxvoid26 @persephone-kore-law @bluevenus19 @ryuushou @asillysimp @aalunar @cxcilla @sirenetheblogger

A tiny little micro sneak peak of chapter 15 because I feel kind:

Jason was having a terrible week, starting with Ms. “I wouldn’t have been as forgiving if you didn’t die and came back kinder to me” Wayne- well- Grayson? He doesn’t know anymore- he’s close enough to just forging papers that say you’re his biological little sister just to fuck with Bruce.

#dc x invincible #dc crossover #invincible crossover #yandere batfam #yandere batfam x neglected reader #yandere invincible #neglected reader #yandere batfamily #fem!reader #female!reader

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tortillamastersblog · 22 days ago

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Back To You - Part 16 | Sam Carpenter

Pairing: Sam Carpenter x reader

Warnings: mentions of violence, death, blood, injuries, and swearing

Summary: When Sam left after turning eighteen, you were devastated. You’d been in love with her since you were kids and her leaving meant you never got to tell her how you truly felt.

Fast forward a couple of years, Tara gets attacked and Sam returns. . .

A/N: Fair warning there might be a couple of typos and shit in this part because I’m too tired to proofread properly

Previous Part | Next Part | Masterlist

_______________________________________________

The door of the theater falls shut behind us with a loud bang and I can’t stop myself from flinching ever so slightly.

Sam squeezes my hand and I squeeze back, letting my eyes roam around the room.

Nothing’s changed since the last time we were here and I cringe once again at the sight of the mannequins on the stage dressed in the old Ghostface cloaks.

It’s eerily quiet, but the knowledge that backup is ready to jump in and help us when Kirby gives them a signal brings me some sense of peace.

When Sam and I came out of the bathroom earlier Bailey had left to go to the station which gave me the chance to pull Kirby aside and tell her about what we figured out while Sam distracted the others, especially Ethan who kept looking at me with his big doe eyes.

She believed me instantly and we quickly came to the conclusion that in order to end this we either have to kill Bailey, Quinn, and Ethan, or get a confession out of them, so they go to prison for the rest of their lives.

I opted for the latter because I’m sick of people dying, but we agreed that should anything go wrong, we will kill them.

We also agreed that the less people are involved the better, so Kirby called the hospital Anika is at and convinced them to call Mindy in Anika’s name, saying she wanted to see her girlfriend.

We tried to come up with a plan to get Chad out of the way as well, but nothing came to mind, which is why he’s here with us now.

Danny’s also here, but we left him outside under the guise of needing someone to call for help in case something goes wrong.

He doesn’t know that the FBI is already stationed nearby, waiting to be called in by Kirby.

Sam, Kirby, and I are the only ones who know and even though I wanted to tell Tara and Chad, I never got the chance because we were never alone.

At first, Danny and Ethan were with us, and then it was just Danny because I managed to prevent Ethan from getting on the same subway as us by shoving a stranger in his way.

I’m sure he’ll be here soon though, just like Bailey who’s in on the “plan”.

We told him we wanted to trap Ghostface and execute him which he immediately agreed to since he doesn’t know we know about him yet.

He was super supportive and even told us to use public transport to avoid getting targeted, and if I didn’t know better I would have actually believed that he was concerned.

I still don’t know why he, Quinn, and Ethan are doing all this, but I guess we’ll find out sooner.

“I cleared the whole place before you got here,” Kirby says, turning to face us. “This—“ she nods her head at the door we just came in through, “—is the only way in or out.”

“What about weapons?” Sam asks, her hand still in mine.

Tara is holding onto Chad’s arm, nodding along to what Sam just asked.

“One gun and I hold onto it,” Kirby lies. She slipped me a knife earlier when I told her about what we found out.

It’s tucked into the waistband of my pants, hidden by my sweater, and not even Sam knows about it.

I know right now would probably be a good time to come clean and tell Chad and Tara everything we know (and tell Sam about the knife), but we can’t be sure that this place isn’t bugged.

“I’m the only one with a badge, so that’s the way it’s going to be,” Kirby says when the others look at her in disbelief. “We’re safe here,” she adds and even though I know the FBI is on standby outside, I’m still not entirely convinced. There’s three Ghostfaces and four of us, and they’re all armed.

This is going to be fun. . .

I wish we’d had more time to plan, because this is all super reckless, but we can’t risk someone else getting hurt, so it will have to do.

The others look skeptical, too, but no one voices their concerns and a moment later Sam’s phone rings. She disconnects our hands and pulls it out of her pocket, her eyebrows furrowing when she sees that it’s Mindy who’s calling her.

She glances at me and I dip my chin, wordlessly telling her to answer it.

“Mindy? Hey, you okay?” she says. She walks off in search of better reception and I let her be, turning to Chad and Tara who are eyeing the glass display cases with disgust while Kirby makes her own way through the theater, looking at everything with her lips pressed into a thin line.

“Sprout. . . Chad,” I say quietly, approaching them. They turn with furrowed eyebrows and smile weakly when they see me.

“Y/N.” Chad exhales sharply and I squeeze his arm reassuringly.

“You guys okay?” I ask.

Tara shakes her head and hugs me while Chad grimaces. “Not really,” she whispers. “I’m scared.”

I sigh and hold her closer. “Yeah, me too.”

“Same. . .” Chad watches us with a forlorn look and I chuckle softly before pulling him into the hug as well.

“You’ll be okay. Both of you, I promise.” I press a kiss to the top of Tara’s head and nudge Chad.

They both shudder and tighten the hug before my phone rings and I’m forced to pull away.

Dread settles in the pit of my stomach as I pull it out of my pocket, but then the sight of Paige’s name flashing across the screen makes me relax again.

It’s not Ghostface, Y/N. Calm down.

“Paige, hey. Everything okay? Are you in the city yet?”

Despite the situation, Paige laughs softly. “Yes, everything’s fine. I’m not in the city yet, I still have two hours to go. I’m just calling to tell you that the hospital called.”

The tentative smile that pulled at my lips just a second ago vanishes and I tighten my grip on the phone. “A-and?”

“Lee’s still in surgery, but he’s stable.”

Tears prick at my eyes and I spin around to avoid Tara’s and Chad’s concerned looks. “Okay, that’s good. That’s really good.”

I swallow thickly to get rid of the growing lump in my throat and Paige sighs on the other end of the line.

“Yeah, it is. . . so what about you? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, but—“

The lights turn off and the call disconnects. A scream pierces through the silent theater and I whirl around.

Tara.

She and Chad seem to be unharmed, but they’re tripping over their feet, trying to get away from something, of rather, someone.

It’s hard to make out what’s happening in the dark, but even before a homemade Stab movie gets projected onto the white curtains that have been lowered in front of the stage, I know that Ghostface is here.

Baile, Ethan and Quinn are here, right now, and we didn’t see it coming.

How didn’t we know? There’s only one entrance and we would have heard them come in. Right?

But what if Kirby overlooked a different entrance? What if she didn’t search the place probably?

Speaking of Kirby, my blood runs cold when my eyes land on her. Her face is covered in blood, and it looks like her nose is broken, but what’s more important is the blood on her shirt from a stab wound in her stomach and the knife pressed against her neck by Ghostface, standing behind her.

Ethan or Quinn. . . Bailey is taller.

“Fuck.” I rush to pull Tara and Chad behind me, feeling anger rising in the pit of my stomach when Ghostface tilts his head mockingly.

This is not how this was supposed to go down. Kirby was supposed to stay hidden, she was supposed to observe and call for backup.

Movement out of the corner of my eye makes my heart skip a beat, but when I turn my head, there’s nothing there.

A second later though I feel a presence on my other side, and I whirl around, expecting another Ghostface, but it’s just Sam, wide-eyed and panting.

“They’re here,” she breathes, “They’re—“ she freezes when her eyes land on Kirby, “—Fuck.”

She grabs my arm, and together we shield Chad and Tara while Ghostface continues to watch us wordlessly.

Kirby is deathly still in his hold, despite the obvious pain she’s in because she knows that if she even attempts to reach for her gun or her radio, her throat will be slit.

Some blood is already trickling down her throat because of how hard Ghostface is pressing the knife against her skin, and I shiver, remembering how I was in that same position a year ago.

Every breath, every blink could be your last one, and it’s a horrifying experience.

This is definitely not how I thought this would go. Was I skeptical of our half-assed planned? Yes. Was I expecting it to go off the rails at some point? Also, yes, but I didn’t think shit would be hitting the fan this quickly.

Well, there’s no point in keeping my mouth shut any longer.

“Let her go, Ethan. She has nothing to do with this,” I say lowly. I know it’s him because Quinn is even shorter than her brother and she probably wouldn’t have had the strength to overwhelm Kirby.

Ghostface falters ever so slightly, obviously surprised that I know who’s under the mask, but he doesn’t move or say anything.

“What are you doing?” Tara hisses, tugging on the back of my sweater. “That’s not Ethan.”

Sam squeezes my arm, and I glance over my shoulder for a split second to meet Tara��s eyes. “Yes it is,” I say, forcing myself to sound calm. “He’s behind all of this with Quinn and Bailey.”

“What?” Chad lets out a surprised gasp.

Someone starts clapping slowly behind us and we all whirl around to see Bailey standing there next to another Ghostface.

He’s smiling menacingly and claps one more time before exhaling dramatically. “I knew you’d figure it out. I mean, the way you looked at me at the police station after the bodega. . . I knew you knew something was up.”

I narrow my eyes, but stay quiet.

There’s no way to get a confession out of all of them now, at least not one we can use against them in court because Kirby was supposed to record everything, so we’re moving on to plan b.

Kill them. Kill all of them. Make them pay for what they’ve done to Liam, Gale, Anika, and Brooks, and for how they tired to frame Sam for what happened im Woodsboro.

“Also, Ethan saw you talking to Kirby, so I knew we had to do something sooner rather than later to make you pay.”

“Make us pay?” Sam asks indignantly. “For what?!”

The homemade Stab movie still playing in the background flickers eerily, casting weird shadows over everyone’s face, but especially Bailey’s when it tightens in anger.

He pulls out his gun and waves it around. “For killing my son!”

“Your son?” Tara snaps over my shoulder.

“Yeah, he’s right there.” I gesture at the Ghostface still pressing a knife to Kirby’s neck.

Bailey snorts and the Ghostface next to him takes off his mask.

Quinn.

I knew it, and so did Sam, but Chad and Tara suck in a breath behind me.

Ethan takes off his mask as well, somehow managing to do it without letting go of Kirby.

“Not him!” Quinn snaps with wild eyes before pointing her knife at Sam. “You killed—“

The curly hair, the thick eyebrows. . . E.K. Ethan Kirsch.

“Richie. . .” I say through clenched teeth.

Sam’s hand around my upper arm tightens. “You’re Richie’s family?!”

Tara and Chad shift uncomfortably, but they don’t say a word.

Of course they’re Richie’s family. How did I not see that coming?

They want revenge for what Sam did to him and they started it all by spreading rumors about her online, so when they kill her, kill us, people will just suspect some rando who took matters into his own hands after he found out Sam was the “real” Ghostface.

How fucked up is that. . .

I glance at Kirby while Bailey, Ethan, and Quinn catch the others up on what I just figured out, and nod subtly when her fingers graze against the pocket of her leather jacket.

The radio. . . We need to call for backup. We need to get out of here.

There has to be a second exit we don’t know about because how else would Bailey, Ethan, and Quinn have gotten into the theater unnoticed.

My call with page was disconnected, probably because Bailey turned on some kind of signal jammer, which could mean the radio is also useless, but getting my hands on it and trying to call for back up is worth a try anyway.

I mean, don’t radios and cell phones operate on different frequencies?

All thoughts of frequencies are quickly forgotten when Bailey steps forward and holds out a weathered Ghostface mask.

“This is your father’s, Sam,” he says. “Quinn’s got Stu Macher’s and Ethan has Nacy Loomis’s, your grandmother’s. . .”

“It really runs in your fucking family, doesn’t it,” Ethan pipes up, and the way Sam’s breath hitches next to me makes me want to bash his head in.

This is exactly what she’s afraid of, being like them, and I just know it’s going to take a lot of therapy and a lot of pep talks to make her, once again, believe she really isn’t anything like them

Tara sniffles quietly, and I reach behind me to squeeze her hand when she holds onto the hem of my sweater.

“This is what we’ve been counting down to,” Bailey says, waving the mask around with the same crazy look in his eyes as Quinn. “I’m going to need you to put it on.”

Oh, hell no.

Sam breathes heavily, and for a split second I think she’s going to take it—she’s going to give them what they want after all, but then she lets go of my arm and smacks the mask out of Bailey’s hand.

“Fuck you!” she spits and her confidence fills me with so much pride that I don’t react fast enough when Quinn lunges forward, slicing Sam’s exposed upper arm with her knife.

She was wearing my zip up hoodie earlier, but it’s so hot in here she must have taken it off while on the phone with Mindy, leaving her in only her gray tank top.

Shit, Mindy. . . Why was she calling in the first place? Is she okay?

There’s no way to find out now, so I quickly pull Sam back against me, out of reach of Quinn while she presses a hand to the cut on her arm.

It’s only superficial, but it’s already bleeding pretty badly and it will definitely need stitches.

“Stay the fuck away from her,” Tara shouts, trying to step out from behind me, but Chad holds her back with an arm around her waist.

“You’re a killer, just like your father, Sam,” Bailey says, pointing an accusing finger at Sam and this time, unlike when Ethan opened his stupid mouth, I don’t hold back.

“No, she’s not you!” I snap, baring my teeth. With her free hand, Sam squeezes my arm around her middle, either to silently thank me for standing up for her or to get me to settle down.

“Yes, she is you motherfucker!” Quinn screams. “She killed Richie like the cold-blooded psycho that she is!”

That’s it!

I let go of Sam and rush forward to tackle Quinn, but Ethan is quick to react. He shoves Kirby aside and jumps in my way before I can get to his sister, stabbing me in the shoulder right below my collar bone—right below the scar on my neck where Amber stabbed me.

“Ah, you fucking little twig,” I exclaim, squaring my shoulders, ready to take him down instead when Sam pulls me back by the back of my sweater.

“No, run!” she shouts and I spin around, knowing she’s right.

Tara and Chad are already weaving through the glass cases, trying to get to the metal door we came in through and Sam and I follow them.

Quinn and Ethan are hot on our heels while Bailey shouts how he knew Sam had to die when he saw the pictures of what she did to Richie.

Everyone who had something to do with his death dies. . . Yeah, no thanks.

Amidst the chaos, the fact that we don’t have the key card to unlock the door dawns on me the moment we’re standing in front of it. Chad tries to pry it open, but it doesn’t budge and when Quinn and Ethan’s footsteps get louder behind us I exclaim, “Forget about it. We’re not getting out this way! There has to be another exit!”

“The roof!” Tara says. “I saw an exit sign leading to the roof behind the seats on the balcony overlooking the stage.”

The roof? Seriously? We’ll be trapped there, too, unless there’s a fire escape.

Anything’s better than this though, I think as Ethan and Quinn skirt around the corner.

“Okay, go left! There’s a staircase up to the balcony!” I shout and we start running again, abandoning the metal door, which could possibly still be our only way out.

Somewhere in the theater a shot gets fired, and I pray to God that Kirby is okay, but I don’t have time to dwell on it as we get to the staircase.

I yank on Sam’s arm and pull her in front of me, and usher her to follow Chad and Tara, but she stops when she notices me freezing on the bottom step.

“What are you doing? Come on!” Urgency seeps into her voice and she tries to drag me up the stairs, but I don’t move.

“No, get to the roof and get help, I’ll buy you some time,” I say, pulling out the knife Kirby gave me.

If Quinn and Ethan want to get to the others, they’ll have to go through me first.

Sam’s eyes widen when they land on the gleaming blade and she shakes her head adamantly. “Fuck no! I’ve left you behind twice now, I’m not doing it again!”

“Sam— I—“ I want to protest, but then Quinn appears with a lazy smile, dragging the blade of her knife along the wall, seemingly in no hurry to get to us any more.

No, no, no. Why’s she so calm. What’s going on?! Where’s Ethan?!

“Y/N!” Sam urges, which snaps me out of my thoughts.

Right. We’ve got to move, no matter how slow Quinn is walking, she’s going to get to us eventually if we don’t move.

“Shit. Yeah, okay! Go, go, go!” I follow Sam up the stairs, taking two of them at a time with my heart pounding in my ears until we get to the top.

Oh damn, we’re higher up than I expected.

It’s at least a ten foot drop from the balcony to the main floor of the theater, but that’s not what I’m worried about.

No, what I’m worried about is Ethan, who’s blocking our path to the roof because he somehow managed to climb the scaffolding connecting the balcony and the main floor to our right.

Tara and Chad are rooted to the ground, staring at him while he simply waves his knife mockingly.

“You really thought you guys could get away?” He laughs and I grab Sam’s hand and spin us around when I hear Quinn coming up the stairs behind us. “Yeah, no. You’re all going to die here tonight and pay for what you did to Richie.”

Tara whimpers and she and Chad take several steps back until their backs are pressed against Sam’s and mine.

The weight of Kirby’s knife in my hand, the one that isn’t holding Sam’s, does nothing to ground me.

We’re caged in and there’s nothing I can do without risking getting hurt because both Ethan and Quinn also have a knife.

“Richie deserved everything he got!” Sam spits next to me. “He was pathetic and killed innocent people just so he could make a new Stab movie! A fucking movie!”

“He loved those movies!” Quinn exclaims angrily and I can’t help but scowl at her.

“That doesn’t excuse what he did! How deluded are you to think that it’s okay to kill people just so you can make a movie?!”

“Shut up!” Ethan shouts and even though I can’t see him, I know he’s absolutely livid right now.

I don’t shut up though. Not only because I can’t stop myself from going on, but because I need to get him to snap and move so we can get to the roof.

“I mean, how fucked up is it that your dad brainwashed you into avenging your brother’s death? He’s a grown ass man and he’s using his kids to do his bidding. Really gets you thinking about who the favorite child is, or was in this case, doesn’t it?”

Quinn’s face contorts into a grimace of rage and I can see both her and Ethan lunging at us from miles away, so I act before they can.

I let go of Sam’s hand and pick up a discarded scaffolding pipe, shoving it into Chad’s hands before turning back around and kicking the side of Quinn’s knee when she comes at us.

She cries out in pain and goes down, and I spin around just in time to see Chad knocking the knife out of Ethan’s hand with the pipe.

“You piece of shit, you know nothing about us!” Ethan shouts, scrambling to pick the knife back up, but Chad is one step ahead of him.

He kicks the knife under the seats before stepping to the side so Tara can knee him in the face, knocking him out.

Yeah, get his ass, Sprout!

Quinn wails furiously and jumps to her feet, her rage obviously numbing the pain in her knee. She tightens the grip she has on her knife and lunges at Sam who raises her arms defensively.

“Oh no you don’t!” I growl, darting forward and catching her wrist mid-strike. I twist it so the knife is now pointing at her and watch in horror as she runs straight into it, stabbing herself in the throat because she can’t stop her advance in time.

Her eyes widen, and she chokes on her own blood for a moment before Sam kicks her in the stomach, forcing her to let go of the knife and fall backward.

She twitches helplessly, coughing and clawing at her own throat for what feels like hours before finally going deathly still.

“Good fucking riddance,” I spit and Sam nods, seemingly in a daze with her eyes trained on Quinn’s dead body until I grab her hand and pull her away. “Let’s go!”

Tara and Chad have already left and I can only hope that they made it to the roof okay. Where Kirby and Bailey are, I have no idea, but the theater’s been deathly quiet since that gunshots I heard earlier.

Please let that have been Kirby shooting Bailey and nod the other way around.

“We need to call for back—“ My words get stuck in my throat when Sam lets out a surprised cry behind me. Her hand lets go of mine and I hear her knife clatter against the ground before I whirl around to see that she’s tripped over something.

No, not something, someone. And that someone is Ethan who’s got his hand wrapped around her ankle.

“Son of a bitch!” Sam seethes and kicks him in the shoulder, which makes him let go of her, but when they both jump to their feet, my heart drops at the sight of him holding the knife she just dropped.

“You’re not going anywhere!” He slashes the knife through the air, missing Sam’s throat by an inch which makes me see red.

I yank Sam behind me, ignoring the way my back stings because of it, and tackle him.

He grunts when we go down and I feel him dragging the knife across my side, but all I can focus on is the sound of Sam’s voice, crying out my name, and the sensation of falling.

Falling, and falling, and falling.

“Y/N!”

I look up and it’s only when I see Sam bent over the railing of the balcony with a bewildered look in her eyes and an outstretched arm that I realize Ethan and I went overt the edge.

No. This was not supposed to happen.

I want to reach out and grab her hand, but it’s too late. I’m falling and before I know it, everything goes black.

I can’t have been out for too long, because when I come to again, everything is quiet.

There’s no shouting, there’s no police and I’m still in the theater, staring up at the blurry outline of the balcony and the dark ceiling.

Sam is nowhere in sight, but when I turn my head I see Ethan right next to me, sprawled on the ground amidst the glass shards of the display case he fell on.

Black dots are dancing in my vision, and I know it’s only a matter of time before I pass out again, but I know for a fact that he’s dead.

His neck is bent at an unnatural angle and his lifeless eyes are staring at me. His lips and chin are covered in blood from when Tara broke his nose with her knee and there are tiny glass shards sticking out of his cheek and forehead.

That’s two for two, I guess. . .

I avert my eyes and go to sit up to find Sam and the others, only to feel my heart drop when I find that I can’t move.

No. Not again.

I try again, willing every muscle in my body to help me sit up, but it doesn’t work.

All I can do is turn my head, and even that is difficult now that I think about it.

It’s like trying to run in a dream, and before I can stop it, a desperate whimper slips past my lips.

Not again. Please, not again.

The memory of Leroy’s face— the firefighter who pulled me out of my parents car after the accident— makes its way to the front of my mind and when I close my eyes I see his sparkling blue eyes above me.

No, not again. Not again. . .

“Y/N!”

My eyes fly open and I look up. Leroy’s blue eyes swim in and out of focus before they’re replaced by dark brown ones.

Sam.

She’s kneeling over me and has her hands on the side of my head.

“Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God. What did you do?!,” she whispers frantically, her eyes darting between mine.

I go to say something, but she shushes me by pressing a finger against my lips. “Don’t answer that. Save your strength. Just stay awake, okay, keep looking at me.”

I don’t know why’s she’s telling me to stay awake, but then I feel the almost irresistible pull of sleep tugging on my insides.

My eyes flutter, but I can’t in good conscience rest until I know it’s over— until I know that everyone’s okay.

“T-Tara. . . Chad,” I whisper, my eyes momentarily focusing on the pendant of Sam’s necklace. It twinkles in the low light and fills me with an indescribable warmth, knowing that she hasn’t taken the necklace off since I’ve given it to her. It also somehow chases away the panic that threatened to wash over me just a moment ago when I realized I couldn’t move.

“They’re okay,” Sam says, her voice breaking which makes me look at her again. Her eyes are filled with tears and her bottom lip is quivering the same way it did when I collapsed at the hospital a year ago. “They’re both okay. Kirby’s okay, too.”

I exhale shakily and blink back my own tears. “So, it’s over?”

Sam nods, running her thumbs over my cheek. “It is and help is on the way, so try to stay awake, okay? I know you’re tired, and you’re in a lot of pain because you took quite a fall, but you have to stay awake.“

“Quite a fall” feels like an understatement, but I don’t comment on it. I just shake my head and sigh quietly.

“‘M not in pain,” I slur, feeling my consciousness slipping away again.

It’s true, I’m not in pain. I just can’t move, but that’s okay because I know everyone else is okay. They’re all going to be okay, including Gale and Liam.

“What do you mean you’re not in pain? You just fell ten feet! How can you not be in pain?” Sam grabs my hand and laces our fingers together. I can’t feel it, but I see her doing it. I also see her furrowing her eyebrows when my hand stays limp before realization dawns on her.

“Y/N. . .” Tears roll down her face and I want nothing more but to reach up and wipe them away, but I can’t. “You’re— You’re—“

“‘S okay,” I whisper, trying my best to smile. “I’m okay.”

“No, you’re not, you’re not,” she hiccups and lets go of my hand again to cradle my head and the back of my neck just as my eyes begin to flutter. “Hey, keep your eyes open! You hear me, Y/N?! Keep your eyes open!”

But I’m so tired and she’s here. She’s finally here after everything that’s happened.

“Sam?”

Tara’s voice makes Sam look up and I take that as my chance to close my eyes.

Just for a little bit, I tell myself, but as soon as my eyes close, darkness washes over me.

“Y/N? Y/N!”

They’re all okay.

She’s here.

_______________________________________________

Before you come for me I just want to say that—spoiler alert—we’re going to be okay!

This part was a pain to write, but it’s done and I can rest now.

Only one more part to go!

Tag list: @bella423 @artrizzler19 @btay3115 @canyonyodeler @quadofthec @pussyydestroyer @rqizzu @pithod @morganismspam23 @idontliketoread2137

#x reader #sam carpenter #sam carpenter x reader #samantha carpenter #samantha carpenter x reader #scream

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