#are they a bad person for getting so irate?

[isekyaaa]

If you don't know me well and you've heard my opinions abt people talking shit, I probably seem like the person that enjoys talking shit about others. To which the truth of the matter is that I don't. Tbh, I feel I do something worse. When I talk about a person to someone else, I break them down from the bottom up by analyzing what makes them so irritating, but also what makes them so great, and I share that analysis with the person I'm talking to. It quickly escalates to bringing up a person's personal issues, traumas, insecurities, etc, and analyzing them under a lens.

[jamminvroomvroom]

let’s go ride.

LN x fem!reader

in which lando keeps getting frustrated and you wanna know why…

hiiiiii here u go! belated love day fic from me to you 💝 love u all, tysm for the love on my last few fics, i’ve had a lot going on lately so i’ve not had very much time to write but when the inspo hits….. shoutout to miss mcrae for dropping lando-coded bangers bc i literally cannot resist. might make a part 2 of all the times they get freaky in a car lmao, lemme know if you want that! likes, comments and reblogs are sooooo appreciated so lemme know what u think xoxox

proofed by my own personal goat @lavenderlando 💖

songs to set the vibes: sports car by tate mcrae, bad guy by billie eilish

warnings: 18+!! minors begone! smut, language, fluff, bit of angst bc lando’s in a mood, friends to lovers, p in v, porn without plot but there is a little bit of plot, bitchy lando

4.2k words

you sit in silence, opening spotify and preparing to fiddle with the bluetooth as he slips into the drivers seat beside you. the car door slams shut and he huffs, jawline taut with annoyance. the hood of his car is surrounded, a million and one cameras pointed at you both as he tries to relax into his chair. the engine roars to life and you side eye him.

“when are you gonna learn, hm?” you try and sound playful, teasing, but it comes out laced with a twang of scolding. lando tenses up even further, turning to glare at you.

“god forbid i go outside.” he snaps.

“give over.” you roll your eyes. “poor me, i’m famous! lando, you can’t get angry when you park in the most high profile spot on the fucking planet and your fans want to worship you.”

“you don’t know what you’re talking about.” he sighs, white knuckles wrapping tighter around the steering wheel.

“don’t i? this has been happening a lot lately.” your voice softens, ever so slightly. “every time i’m seen with you, you lash out.”

“because i don’t want people harassing you, looking at you like some fucking commodity.” lando snarls, steely eyes locked on the supposed car enthusiasts that are slowly backing away from his parking space.

“lando, we’re friends. this has always been a thing. why is it bothering you so much now?”

you wonder if it bothers him for the same reason it bothers you.

he shuts his eyes, collecting himself for a moment. he puts the car in drive and smoothly pulls out of the space, ignores your question. you scowl at him, at this sudden childishness that has overtaken his easygoing manner in the last few months.

“fine. whatever.” you mutter, slumping defeatedly into your seat. you give up on playing music, leaving him to bask in the silence, something he loathed.

lando had switched from his usual self to this stony, irate version of him that you rarely had the displeasure of seeing, from the second you walked out of the restaurant where you’d had lunch. he was reluctant to pose for photos and sign hats, something he usually revelled in, grateful that people even wanted to see him. the swathes of fans that had gathered had irked him for once, but what really boiled his blood was the photographers that seemed to find him no matter where he chose to spend him time. so much for monaco’s privacy laws.

it wasn’t like he cared about himself, either. it was you. the way they leered, leaned close to you while he was distracted with pens being shoved in his face. it was the way their eyes dipped low, whether you were in a tank top or a baggy hoodie. it was the way they spread the false, painful narrative all over the internet that you and lando were together, which drove hoards of losers into your comment section and your DMs just to call you names.

you were not together. as much as it pained him, you were just friends.

he couldn’t exactly explain his overprotectiveness to you without getting himself into a big, tangled mess. you, being the resilient, cool as a cucumber stoic that you were didn’t care what fourteen year olds on the internet thought about you. you weren’t about to let faceless, jobless trolls ruin the friendship that you’d nurtured for years, through ups and downs, thick and thin, race wins and huge losses. but lando, god, it killed him, tore him up inside every time someone so much as looked at you wrong.

“you really don’t get it.” he says, hushed, like he’s telling a secret. you turn to look at him, tearing your eyes away from the glistening view of the marina.

“lando, tell me then. make it make sense because i’ve never seen you behave like this. they love you! least you can do is lose the attitude over some harmless pictures.”

“jesus christ, it’s not the fans! it’s not the ‘harmless pictures’! it’s these fucking creeps that follow us around just to make some money off of my own personal hell. you really don’t get it, because if you did, you’d know that it breaks my fucking heart to see the way people talk about you online, just for being seen with me. it’s my fault that you get harassed, that paps are basically stalking you now.”

he signs of his rant with a sharp inhale, one that seems to suck all of the life out of the car. you melt.

“but lando, it doesn’t bother me. i just wanna be here with you, i don’t care about the rest of it.” you coo softly, reaching over the centre console to grip his forearm.

“and i want you here. i want you with me every fucking second of the day, but i can’t cope. can’t help thinking that one day it’ll all just be too much and you’ll leave me.” he whispers.

“never. never ever ever.” you promise. your belly swirls with emotions, tickled from the inside out by butterflies that threaten to swarm.

lando breathes shakily, warmed through by the hand that rests on his arm as he manoeuvres through the twisty lanes. as he hits traffic and slows, he clocks another photographer looming on the pavement, lens aimed at his windshield. already too annoyed, he aggressively smacks his sun visor down, leaning over the console to reach yours too, pulling it down. he prays it’s enough.

“you need to relax, lan. i’m fine, we’re fine. i promise.” you reassure, but he’s breathing heavily now. “you don’t worry this much when it’s max.” you trail off.

he doesn’t know what comes over him. he spins the car into a sharp u-turn, positively speeding back in the direction you’d just come from. any mention of you and him as a ‘we’ makes him crazy, makes him utterly lose his mind, but something about your sweet, earnest voice bringing him back to reality has left him completely shaken. the sun is setting now, most people clearing out of the underground car park he pulls into to head back to their homes. he has other intentions. you don’t say another word until he pulls into a space at the back of the lot, tucked neatly into a corner.

“what are we doing?”

“need a minute.” lando rasps, forehead resting on his steering wheel, the matte leather pushing his sharp curls back. you trail your eyes over him, the way his chest rises and falls under the sweatshirt he’s wearing, the way his thick fingers curl as his grip continues to tighten.

“i’m jealous. and i’m selfish. and i’m a complete fucking idiot.” lando says, steadily, like he’s reading the news.

“you’re… you’re jealous? of what?” you’re like a deer in headlights.

“of any other person that gets to lay their fucking eyes on you.”

“what are you saying?” you whisper. the air in the car goes still, frozen. you can’t breathe.

“i’m saying… that you’re mine. and i should have made that a known fact a long time ago.” ever so slowly he looks up at you, and you gasp at the intensity of his stare. he’s gazing at you with complete conviction in his eyes, a whole lot of vulnerability mixed in with the sincerity of his words. “i don’t want anyone else anywhere near you. lose my fucking mind watching the way they look at you.”

“lando…” you trail off, eyes as wide as saucers. is he really saying what you think he’s saying?

“i know this is terrible of me, to do this now, here - to do this at all, to be honest. i know that i have no right to stake some kind of claim on you, and i know that you probably don’t feel the same, but god, i just needed you to know. if you want me to shut the fuck up or leave you alone forever then i totally get it but-“

“oh my god, are you stupid?” you shake your head, still stuck in your state of disbelief, but you muster the coherency to grip the collar of his crewneck, tug him close.

your lips meet hastily, urgently, and every ounce to tension seems to seep out of the car. he moans at the very sensation of you against him, breath caught in his throat when you lace your finger through his hair like you want to mould your faces together, never stop. his brain finally catches up, awestruck as he is, and you trade passion and saliva, bumping noses as you clash chaotically.

“i think we’re both stupid.” he mumbles into your lips. you shut him up with another kiss, fiery and needy, and his hands begin to wander. he smoothes over the back of your jumper until he finds your waist, awkward in the limited space of the front of the car, and skims his hands up until he’s made his way beneath the material and he’s gripping your bare skin.

“too forward of me to ask you to get in the back?” lando pants with a cheeky smile.

“you literally just marked your territory on me, and nearly bit a photographer. i think we’re past ‘forward’.” you deadpan.

“then get in the fucking back.” he grins, devilish and commanding. you do as you’re told, wriggling between the leather until you’re propped up against the backseat. lando follows, sitting beside you, tugs you into his lap like you’re weightless.

you can feel him beneath you, hard and wanting, and you mewl, keen into him. your breaths mingle in the nonexistent space, lips brushing gently.

“this okay?” lando’s lips ghost over yours and you lean forward, just enough to reach him. he pulls back, eyes hooded, teasing, and tuts. “use your words.”

“who knew you were such a bossy boots.” you smirk. “more than okay.”

his eyes glaze over once he has your permission, and he kisses you like you’re the last supply of oxygen on earth. he licks into your mouth, wet and desperate and you whimper as he grazes over the crease of your thigh, toying with the hem of your skirt where it’s ridden up.

“can feel you.” lando groans, pulling away to look between your bodies. “so warm for me, you like seeing me all riled up?”

you nod coyly, lip caught between your teeth, and you swear you see his eyelashes flutter.

“what did i say about words?” lando composes himself enough to tease. you roll your eyes, but you can’t ignore the way heat rolls through your body.

“like when you get all bitchy.” you reply, rolling your hips once.

“bitchy?”

“mhm. always been so easy to toy with.” you whisper, leaning in to nose along the thickness of his neck. you drag your tongue up the vein there, feeling it pulse under your tongue. he smells like his cologne, so him, and it makes you even hotter.

“oh, so you’ve been playing with me?” he chokes out, eyes rolling back in his head at the marks you’re leaving.

“maybe a little.” you hum.

“you liked watching me get angry? pretending to be all sweet and clueless?” lando whispers, the words hanging heavy in the space between you. all you can manage in response is a mischievous smile that twists his tummy.

your hands trail under his sweatshirt, skating over the muscled ripples of his belly, ever so slightly dipping into the band of his sweats. his head lulls back, blindly holding you close while you worship him. he lets you, lets himself have this moment, thinking for so long that it would never come.

“waited so long,” your lips brush over the shell of his ear, tongue grazing the lobe. he descends into a mess of shivers. “needed you to break first. i knew you would.” you croon.

“you’ve been loving this, haven’t you?” lando starts, low and calculating. “bet you’ve been getting off on dressing like a whore for the cameras, watching me suffer.” he pieces together. your resolve cracks. “bad girl.”

the sense of control you’d briefly maintained shatters, a hand around your neck forcing you away from him, preventing your sweet torture. his fingers flex, just above your collarbone, and you swallow at the smirk that seems to engulf his entire face. he looks animalistic, crazed with a feral adoration that leaves you certain that you’re dripping all over his lap.

“i think you’ve had your fun, baby, it’s my turn.”

you whine when he drags you across his lap, back and forth until you’re squirming. his hips rut up into yours, fuelling your desire for every single inch of him.

“please, lando.” you breathe, reaching out to lace your fingers into the curls at the nape of his neck.

“let me look at you.” he demands, shutting down your intentions for more. “i’ve waited long enough for this, don’t you think?”

“so have i.” you beg him with your eyes, but give in to him nonetheless. you’re staining his lap, grey sweats darkening as your wetness pools there and he can’t help but buck up into your warmth.

“wanna play with you, baby, see how you like it.” he taunts, bringing two fingers between your legs.

he brushes his knuckles over the obvious damp patch at the crotch of your panties, lip caught between his teeth at what he finds. your soaked through, and he pinches your bundle of nerves just to watch you thrash in his grip.

“i hate you right now.” you spit through gritted teeth, but your hips can’t help but chase his hand.

“doesn’t feel like it.” he kisses you quick, loving the way you lean in for more, but he relaxes against the seat and dips slowly beneath your underwear. “fuck.”

he doesn’t have to work too hard to spread your wetness around, you’re already lathered in it, but he continues to tease, fingers gliding over your clit and through your folds.

“please.” you beg, leaning back to give him as much access as possible.

“what do you want, baby? tell me.” he urges, drawing circles on the swollen bundle of nerves.

“your fingers.”

“you have them.” he barks out a condescending laugh, applying more pressure just to prove his point.

“need them inside of me.” you pant, eyes squeezing shut at his sadistic game between your thighs.

“that’s my girl.” he praises, and you curse, clamping down around him before he even gets the first knuckle inside of you.

“how are you doing this to me?” you think aloud, tears in your waterline already. it all feels far too good for a first time.

“because i know you better than you think i do.” he coos.

lando pulls you flush against him, grinding his fingers deep so that they curl deliciously against your sweet spot. his palm bumps your clit with every twist of digits and he nips over your collarbone. his tongue laves over your skin, tasting the perspiration that gathers as the car steams up around you. you’re suddenly hyper aware of your surroundings, huddled together in the back of his urus in a dimly lit car park. thank god you’d lost the photographers.

“can’t believe we’re doing this.” you gasp, feeling your tummy tighten at the thrill of it all, of feeling your best friend work to please you.

“i knew it would happen. knew that someday i’d get to see you like this, all for me.”

“all for you.” you repeat, drunk on him as you rode his fingers. “feels so good.”

“want you to come for me like this.” lando orders, replacing the heel of his hand with his thumb against your clit. his ministrations are more controlled like this, precise, and you throw your head back in pleasure. his teeth sink in to the base of your neck, sucking softly over the bruising skin, lapping at the mark to soothe it.

“i’m so close, lan.”* you choke, riding his fingers as you near your release.

“c’mon baby, make a mess for me.” he urges, eyes locked intensely on yours. you’re enticed by the sea green storm that swirls in his irises, shrinking as his pupils blow with lust. you can’t help it, can’t delay the inevitable, and you thrash in his arms, wildly bucking your hips against his as you fall apart.

you gush all over his lap, further ruining his sweatpants but he doesn’t bat an eyelid, working you through your orgasm until you’re spent. he’s transfixed by the way your thighs glisten, by the way your release seeps through the material covering his crotch and it makes him throb.

“that’s it baby.” he murmurs, voice low and smooth. you pant, collapsing forwards onto him.

“thank you.” you whisper into his neck, and he laughs softly.

“don’t thank me, silly girl.” he coos into your ear. you pull back just enough to kiss him, taking it slow, giving you a moment to come down from your devastatingly intense high. you’re exhausted, eyes fluttering shut from the exertion, and he tucks sweaty strands of your hair behind your ears. his fingers graze your warmed cheeks, noses bumping and you take him in, carefully studying the lines of his face, the sharp slope of his nose, the flutter of his eyelashes against those ridiculously high cheekbones.

“you’re so pretty.” your voice floats over him like a delicate caress, makes him shiver. he grins at you, enamoured.

“didn’t think our first time would be in the back of my car but i don’t think i can’t wait to get you home.”

“you’ve thought about this?” you ask, bashful. he gazes up at you sheepishly.

“every night before bed.” he jokes, and you shift your hips.

you’re overstimulated, but it does the trick, the playful haze shattering, replaced by thick, charged tension.

“you gonna make that fantasy a reality?”

“yeah. yeah, i am.” he mumbles.

his hands skim your waist, pushing your jumper up as he goes higher and higher, until it’s off, chucked into the footwell. you tear at his sweatshirt until it joins your discarded clothing and explore the bronzed planes of his chest, extra sun-kissed by the trip you’d taken to dubai just a few weeks before. if only you’d known then…

“hurry.” you plead, and he scoffs, adjusting you on his lap just enough to free himself from his sweatpants and boxers, and you gawk down at what’s revealed to you.

it’s big, thick, and you sigh in relief that he’d so thoroughly stretched you out, got you nice and slick for him already.

“gonna take it all for me?” lando taunts, catching your hanging jaw between two firm fingers, forcing you to look at him.

“gonna try.” you reason, breathing shakily as you rise up on your knees. you feel the head of his cock prodding your clit, the sodden tip running along your folds until it catches on your entrance. you both hiss as the contact, his hands steadying your hips.

“you can do it, baby.” lando promises, helps you begin your descent.

“oh my god.” you gasp, sinking down slowly. “dunno if i can take it, lan, you’re so- so…” you trail off, head thrown back far enough that you miss the way he’s smirking up at you.

“c’mon baby, being such a good girl for me, i know you can take it. just a little more.” he goads, pressing each button of your apparent praise kink, and you whine, soft moans tumbling from your lips. a sense of determination becomes you, and you’re aching to take him all the way.

you cry out his name when you’re pressed flush against him, and he soothes circles into your hips, holding you close against his chest. one hand smoothes through your hair, the lace of your bra scratching against his chest as you breathe rapidly.

“well done, baby, knew you could do it.” lando praises, trailing kisses over your face. you quiver in his hold, hips wiggling ever so slightly, and he takes that as a sign. “want me to do the work, hmm? make you feel so good?”

you nod lazily, looking up at him from where your face is smushed against his shoulder, and he lets you break his rule of “words”, softened by how beautiful you look, vulnerable in his strong arms. he starts to move, fucking up into you slowly, feeling you out. you can feel him twitch inside of you, his breath catching in his throat at the feeling of you, tight and warm, enveloped all around him. you roll your hips languidly, meeting his thrusts and you both moan out as the explosion of sensations unfolds between you.

“harder, lando. can take it.” you mumble, glazed over doe eyes looking into his. he tenses up, shaken to the very core by the emotional tether between you, feeling the way it grows even stronger. the one woman he’d wanted since he’d laid eyes on you, the one women he never thought he could have; his heart pounds violently in his chest.

he readjusts your hips, pushing you back so that you’re upright once more, eyes raking hungrily over your flushed body. your skirt is bunched around your waist, panties tugged to the side, cups of your bra barely covering anything anymore. he tweaks a nipple through the lace, paws at your tits until you’re fluttering around him. the cups of your bra are tugged down, resting below your breasts and he swallows hard.

“fuck me, you’re so beautiful.” lando rasps, leaning you back further to perfect the angle.

once he’s satisfied, he bounces you against him, meeting your hips with harsh thrusts, his pace unrelenting. he can see the way you pool around his base, dampening the thatching of hair that decorates his pelvic bone. you seem to chase the friction there, rutting your clit against him. sweet puffs of breath fill his ears, melodic combined with a symphony of your needy whines, continuously intensifying as he fucks you deeper and deeper.

“it’s so good.” you slur, mouth hanging open, totally unhinged from the raw pleasure that he courses through your veins.

“you’re doing so good for me, baby.” he wants to say more, but then he sees it, the way your lower belly seems to protrude with every roll of his hips. “oh, fuck.” he cries out.

“do you see that, baby? see how deep i am?” lando growls, voice rippling through your connected bodies. you glance down, and the first tears start to fall.

“oh my god.” you repeat, nothing else to say, totally braindead at the sight. your cheeks are wet with tear tracks, utterly overwhelmed by the way he’s taking you, so blissful that it hurts.

“you crying for me, baby? do i feel that good?” lando mocks, reinvigorated by the way your tears gather at your collarbone. his hand swipes messily against your throat, swiping them away, but you catch his hand, keeping it there. your eyes lock as your hand squeezes around his, a silent plea. he rocks up into you even harder, hand clamping around you neck slowly, leaving your breathless, liquid heat shooting down your spine. you can’t stop it from hitting you like a ton of bricks, can’t hold back, not when he’s making it hurt so fucking good.

“lando, i can’t- i’m gonna- fuck.” you bellow, falling to pieces around him. he keeps you propped up through your orgasm, plowing into your limp body until you’re so tight around him that he quite literally can’t keep going. he shudders, repeating your name like a godforsaken prayer as his abs flex beneath your shaky hands. you feel him filling you up, shots of warmth painting your insides.

lando lets you collapse into his arms, holding you tight as you both tremble in the silence of the car. condensation rolls down the windows, giving away your frenzied desires. if anyone caught sight of his car, it wouldn’t be hard to do the math.

“gonna let me take you home so we can do that again?” lando laughs, breathing you in. he can feel the way your chest rumbles softly in response, hears your angelic, raspy laugh.

“gimme a sec, don’t think i can move ever again.” you groan, sighing into his chest.

you stay there for a while, basking in it, coming down. he traces shapes into the bare skin of your back; you absentmindedly trace a heart into the window fog.

when you finally manage to redress, it’s dark outside, bright lights casting patterns into the calm midnight of the marina. he holds your hand as he drives up into the heights of monaco, and you stare at the way yours fits so perfectly with his, just like how your head tucked so perfectly into the crook of his neck. you smile out the window and lando smiles at you.

by the time bedtime rolls around, you’re both well and truly exhausted. when you try and wriggle out of his grip, ready to retreat back to the guest room like a wounded animal, lando pouts - pouts! - and holds you even tighter.

“silly girl.” he kisses the words into your hairline, and drifts off to sleep.

-

hehe

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taglist cont. in reblogs. smooches

[thelaughingmerman]

Came an inch- literally an inch- away from hitting someone today (actually me like I definitely would have been at fault). I checked before ei merged but didn't double check (we were both going like under 10 so it wouldn't have been the worst thing in the world but still). We both stopped and agreed the crunch noise we heard was the slam of brakes on wet asphalt because the cars looked fine. Drove away on good terms. 👍

[thebibliosphere]

Sat too long in my feelings about the Gotham Knights video game Jason Todd going to therapy and trying to engage with his siblings from a place of healing and hurt myself, so now I'm inflicting this on all of you, but:

Do you ever think about how Jason only ever gets to experience Dick as an extension of the breakdown of Dick and Bruce's relationship at that time? Granted, depending on the comic era, Dick maybe doesn't show up as much as he should, or Jason acts like an antagonistic little shit, but overall, Dick's falling out with Bruce overshadows all of it.

And, like, yeah, it's funny to joke that only Jason knows that Dick went through a shitbag teenage phase and that no one ever believes him. (Gaslight, Gate Keep, Gotham ✌) And Jason is irate about it because how can they not see through what is clearly The World's Best Big Brother Act? How can no one else see it's fake?

(Unless it's not fake, and Jason just wasn't worth loving... No, fuck off, he doesn't care, he doesn't. Leave him alone.)

But at the same time, what if Jason's the only one who realizes it's a trauma response?

What if Jason's in the middle of a therapy session or reading one of the self-help books we see him ordering, and he just has to take a moment to breathe because, of course, it's a fucking trauma response. Of course, it is.

Dick's not pretending to be anything. He was, in fact, so severely affected by Jason's death that he over-corrected and now refuses to let himself be anything other than the Perfect Big Brother. Because he can't. Because when he's not perfect, when he's not there for them, they die.

Suddenly the golden retriever's cheerfulness is less grating and more worrying. Dick's need for perfection is less an annoying personality trait to compete with and more an exhausted cry for help that no one else seems to see. Not even Dick.

Because Jason realizes now that he might have never managed to live up to the Golden Boy mantle, but Dick will never get to put it down, either. Because he can't let himself. Because bad shit happens when he does.

So what if that's what he hopes Dick reads between the lines in the email he sends him in GK?

What if, by saying, "Hey, I realize now trying to hold myself to your standards was damaging my relationship with you, but I need you to know it wasn't your fault," was also Jason saying, "Hey, this shit isn't healthy are you fucking okay?"

[ramblings-of-a-chaotic-neutral]

Hello again everyone! It's time for another Merlin au! This time featuring Uther's propaganda and a healthy dose of misunderstandings and pain! :D

This au was inspired by an idea that I pitched in a reblog of one of @tamaha's amazing posts! (Also, shoutout to my awesome mutual @achillesuwu, since you asked to be tagged when I wrote this! :) ) You can find that original reblog here!

EDIT: You can find part two of this au here!

In canon, we know that Uther had children drowned for using magic, and that most of those children were likely warlocks who were born with their magic. However, we also know that most people in Camelot believe that magic is a choice and that it's impossible for someone to be born with it, so how did Uther justify to his people both the existence of child warlocks and the killing of children for something that they had no control over?

Well, Uther utilized his propaganda to justify killing young warlocks. He found some ancient text that hypothesized that warlocks got their powers from being reborn demons, and he used those very shoddy sources to justify his actions.

He spun stories about how warlocks looked human, but weren't human at all. He told the people that while those warlock children might have looked like regular humans, they would grow into powerful demons that would hunt down regular humans and eat their souls to gain more power.

Uther's propaganda campaign was successful, and soon, warlocks were some of the most feared magical creatures in Camelot. The people were terrified at the thought of a beast that could consume souls and blend in among them, unable to detected until it was too late.

Warlocks were a regular element of the nightmares of all of the children in Camelot, who would jump at every shadow and wonder if it was a warlock, there to devour them. Arthur was among those children, lying awake late at night, trembling with fear at the thought of any person he passed on the street being a warlock who would eat his very soul, denying him any afterlife and instead turning his soul into more magical power for the warlock.

And fast forward to some point after Arthur's become king, Merlin has a pretty painless magic reveal. Arthur and the knights were out hunting, they all get ambushed by bandits, Arthur takes a bad hit that would probably be fatal, but Merlin rushes to his side and, without hesitation, uses magic to heal Arthur's wound.

Arthur was, of course, very upset to learn that his manservant and best friend has magic, and they have a big argument over it, but no one physically attacks anyone (despite Gwaine's threats to kill Arthur and the rest of the knights and run away with Merlin).

So, everyone endures a rather tense and awkward ride back to Camelot, where Merlin is the recipient of many irate glares from Arthur and reassuring looks from the knights. When they reach Camelot, Arthur bans Merlin from his presence until he calls for Merlin again. He says that he can't stand the sight of Merlin at the moment, but Merlin will owe him a full explanation later. Merlin tearfully agrees and holes himself up in Gaius's chambers for a few days, while Arthur makes an ass of himself with his foul mood, snapping at everyone in the castle.

The knights try to point out to Arthur that while, yes, Merlin had magic and had lied to Arthur, he had only revealed it to save Arthur's life. Most of the knights used that point as a tool to comfort Arthur and ease his temper, but Gwaine used that fact to rub it in Arthur's face how terrible of a person Arthur was being towards the man who had just saved his life.

Finally, after the whole castle had to suffer through five days of Arthur's prattish and unpleasant behavior, Arthur summoned Merlin to his chambers, feeling calm enough again to actually hear whatever nonsensical reasons Merlin would give for turning to magic.

You see, what Arthur, the knights, and pretty much everyone in the castle had assumed was that Merlin had probably just picked up on some small useful enchantments and healing spells for Gaius's old study of that material. Arthur was angry at Merlin for turning to magic, but he could understand where Merlin was coming from.

Everyone knew that Merlin cared about his friends to the point of idiocy, so it made logical sense that Merlin, since he had the resources available to him, would resort to learning healing magic in case of an emergency. Arthur understood that aspect of Merlin more than anyone else.

Knowing that Merlin's magic was probably just the result of him being a loving and caring idiot did help ease the blow for Arthur, and truthfully Arthur didn't plan on punishing Merlin at all. To Arthur, hopefully confining Merlin to his chambers for a few days would discourage any future stupidity along these lines, and they could put this entire situation behind them.

So, when Arthur summoned a distressingly pale Merlin to his chambers and demanded an explanation, he expected to receive some stuttered response about learning a few spells from some of Gaius's spare books and to extract a promise out of Merlin that he'd never turn to magic again, and then everything would be fine.

However, when a wrought looking Merlin opened his mouth to explain, Arthur's heart plummeted to the floor. At the very first words of Merlin's explanation, "I was born with it," Arthur's chest went cold, and he took a few staggering steps backwards until his back hit the cold wall behind him, his eyes seeking out his blade.

Merlin was born with magic. That made Merlin a... a...

"Warlock," Arthur whispered, his eyes teary and terrified all at once.

Merlin stopped his explanation and tilted his head at Arthur, a small grin pulling on his lips. Arthur flinched back slightly at the sight of it, unable to form a coherent thought beyond the all-encompassing terror, dread, and sorrow that swirled around his mind.

"Ah, so you do know the correct word for it then! Yes, I am technically a warlock, but the distinction doesn't really matter that much anyways."

Merlin made a dismissive gesture with his hand, as if his words hadn't just completely shattered Arthur's heart. Arthur couldn't even listen to the rest of Merlin's explanation through the rush of his heartbeat and breathing in his ears.

The terror gripping his heart shouted at him to fight or flee, don't just stand there waiting for him to decide that he's feeling peckish for souls!

Arthur suddenly registered the pallor of Merlin's skin and the hollowness of his cheeks and came to the awful conclusion that he doesn't have much time, Merlin's already hungry and Merlin was stepping closer there was no time to escape nonono!

Arthur closed his eyes, unable to look at what must have been Merlin unfurling whatever demonic jaws he kept hidden and preparing to eat Arthur's soul...

But the sensation of his soul being devoured, whatever that was supposed to feel like, never came. Instead, he just felt a hand on his forehead, and after a few seconds another one cupped the side of his face.

Arthur hesitantly opened his eyes, almost not wanting to look upon Merlin's happy, friendly face that had always brought nothing but comfort. He didn't want those caring eyes to be that last thing he saw before he died at Merlin's hand!

Slowly, Arthur steeled himself and blinked the tears from his eyes, willing to at least face his death like a true warrior, looking at it head-on.

But, as his vision cleared from the tears, Merlin didn't look like his death, or like any sort of soul-eating monster. He just looked like Merlin, and by god wasn't that the worst part of it?

Merlin slowly smiled at him as his tears dried, coaxing him away from the wall and towards his armchair by the fireplace. Merlin gently guided him over to chair and helped him into his seat, holding Arthur's hand the entire time.

Arthur, once he was sitting, looked over at Merlin, still holding onto his hand and whispering comforting words to him, and Arthur felt like a small, scared child again, freshly awoken from a nightmare and jumping at every shadow.

It took what must have been hours for Arthur to catch his breath, stop his tears, and cease his body's terrified trembling, and Merlin sat next to him the entire time, drying Arthur's tears and comforting him.

Eventually, Arthur looked Merlin in the eyes again, and he could find nothing in them but love and care.

Whatever Merlin was, however hungry he must have been after going five days without being able to hunt for souls to devour, he apparently didn't see Arthur as a target.

Arthur took a deep breath, maintaining eye contact with Merlin. Alright, Merlin might be a soul-eating demon straight out of Camelot's worst nightmares, but he saw Arthur as a friend, not a meal. Arthur... Arthur could work with that.

He just... he needed more information before doing anything else. Merlin was still looking at him with love and concern, and with each passing moment, Arthur became more and more convinced that Merlin was still Merlin, warlock or not. And damn it all, that still counted for something. It had to count for something.

Now that his fear was marginally under control, questions swirled around Arthur's head. How did Merlin even eat souls before this? How often did he need to eat? Did he need to also eat food, or did he sustain himself and his powers on souls alone?

Before he could ask Merlin any of the pressing questions that were on his mind, Merlin had already helped Arthur out of his chair and towards his bed, readying a limp Arthur for bed whilst the king was drowning in his own thoughts.

Before Arthur even knew it, Merlin was pulling blankets over him and snuffing out the candles in his room. Merlin promised to visit Arthur again in the morning to tell him more, and Arthur barely registered his words over the storm of his own thoughts.

When morning came, Arthur couldn't even tell if he had gotten any sleep throughout the night or not, but he woke up exhausted either way. Only a few minutes after the sun had risen, Merlin burst into the room, still looking paler than usual and helping himself to one of the sausages that was supposed to be a part of Arthur's breakfast.

Just the sight of Merlin eating anything made Arthur feel slightly queasy, imaging some terrified soul being devoured at Merlin's hands. Arthur took a deep, steadying breath before getting out of bed, allowing Merlin to dress him as he normally did.

Merlin, much to Arthur's relief, was still acting like nothing had changed, like he was still the same harmless Merlin that Arthur knew him as before yesterday.

If that was how Merlin wanted to act, then Arthur was fine with it. Truthfully, even with all of the questions that Arthur had surrounding Merlin's nature, he found that he didn't really want answers to any of them. Answers would make this new reality, one where Merlin was never harmless at all and where there was a demon hiding under his best friend's skin, real for Arthur. If Arthur didn't have any answers, then he could just... pretend that everything was still fine, like nothing was wrong.

To keep Merlin by his side, he would gladly accept ignorance and pretend like nothing had changed.

However, there was still one issue that Arthur needed an answer to, to confirm that Merlin was still the man who Arthur always thought him to be.

As Merlin was cleaning up Arthur's breakfast plate, Arthur cleared his throat, getting Merlin's attention. Merlin quickly turned around to meet Arthur's gaze, but Arthur didn't feel scared meeting his eyes this time.

"Merlin, I'm willing to let everything that was revealed yesterday be forgiven, and everything can go back to normal."

Merlin gave Arthur a beaming smile at his words, and Arthur continued with a solemn heart.

"However, there is one thing I need to know. You've never..."

Somehow, the words eaten the soul of an innocent person were so vile that they refused to pass Arthur's lips, so he chooses an alternative.

"... hurt anyone who didn't deserve it, right? And you never will in the future? If we are to have any sort of trust between us, you must answer me honestly"

Arthur figured that, if Merlin was indeed forced to eat souls to survive, Merlin was probably feeding on bandits or enemy soldiers that Arthur and the knights would've killed anyways. It was the only explanation, as innocent people didn't mysteriously turn up dead regularly enough in Camelot to indicate that Merlin was feeding on them, and Arthur knew, deep down, that no matter what he was, Merlin would never do such a thing.

Merlin froze at Arthur's words, his smile falling. He lowered his gaze briefly, before meeting Arthur's eyes once more, determination shining brightly in his eyes.

"Arthur, I swear to you, anyone whom I've hurt with my powers were enemies of Camelot. Whatever I've done, I did it to protect you and your subjects."

Arthur nodded, satisfied and relieved by Merlin's answer. Nothing had to change then, Merlin was still his friend and manservant, albeit with powerful magic and an appetite for the souls of his enemies. Arthur could... tolerate that.

As the weeks went on, Arthur found himself thinking about this new side to Merlin less and less. Merlin was still acting exactly as himself, so there was no reason for Arthur to worry, let alone dwell on any thoughts of warlocks.

(And if he had a familiar nightmare from his childhood featuring a warlock, then that was Arthur's business and Arthur's business alone.)

Everything was fine, and months passed without any incidents. That was, however, until Arthur noticed Merlin becoming paler, his cheeks hollowing out again, and his eyes sporting heavy bags. As he took in the changes in Merlin over the past few days, he came to the sickening conclusion: Merlin was getting hungry again, and would need a soul to eat soon.

But Camelot was at peace, there were noticeably less bandits roaming the streets in the past year, and no assassins had come to the castle in the past months. Arthur could see that Merlin's usual... hunting grounds... had been drying up, and he needed to find a solution immediately. Arthur shivered at the thought of what devastation Merlin would unintentionally bring down upon all of them if his hunger ever got out of control.

After several hours of brainstorming on Arthur's part, he finally had an idea. It sickened him to have to consider, but he would do what he had to for the sake of Camelot.

Arthur called for Merlin to follow him as he made his way into the dungeons, where only one prisoner was currently being held. The prisoner was a minor noble who had killed several of his own servants and then used his status as a member of the nobility to cover up his involvement in the murders.

However, the nobleman was sloppy, and there was evidence left behind that proved his guilt without a doubt. He was set to be hanged for his crimes in two days time, as per Arthur's own judgement at the noble's trial, but... if he was going to be executed anyways... perhaps his death may be of use.

(What Arthur didn't know was that the real reason why Merlin looked so exhausted was because Merlin had spent every night for the past week searching for and compiling evidence that the nobleman was behind the murders, as the bastard would've gotten away with it otherwise.)

To Arthur, the criminal's death could be used to ensure that Camelot's only source of magical protection (and Arthur's best and dearest friend) didn't starve to death or go into a hunger-induced rampage, whichever came first.

Slowly, Arthur made his way to the nobleman's cell with Merlin trailing after him, where the criminal was bound to a chair on Arthur's orders. Arthur solemnly opened the door to the cell, gesturing for Merlin to follow him inside.

As soon as Arthur set foot in the cell, the nobleman started begging him for mercy, pleading with him to lower his sentence, not knowing what punishment Arthur truly had in mind for him. Ignoring the soon-to-be dead man, Arthur turned towards Merlin, who was startled by Arthur's intense stare.

"Arthur? What's going on?"

"Merlin," Arthur choked out, his voice rough with guilt, sorrow, and fear alike. Merlin rushed to Arthur's side at the sound, trying to urge him out of the cell, away from whatever issue was causing Arthur such pain.

Standing firm, Arthur cleared his throat.

"Merlin, I need you to... to do something for me."

Concern marred Merlin features as he reached out to Arthur.

"Of course, I would do anything for you Arthur."

Arthur swallowed roughly, trying to force his next words out of his throat. He'd ordered executions before, hell, he'd even ordered this man's execution before, but this was much, much harder than any of the other orders he'd given.

"Merlin, I need you to... take care of this man, as you normally do for enemies of Camelot."

Merlin reeled back with shock, looking somewhere between confused and hurt.

"Arthur, you can't possibly mean for me to..."

"I'm sorry, but yes Merlin, it needs to be done."

Merlin stared at Arthur for a few more moments, before slowly nodding his head and turning towards the bound criminal.

As Merlin stepped closer to the doomed noble, Arthur closed his eyes and turned his head away. Perhaps it was cowardice, but if there were ever a time for Arthur to show such cowardly behavior, it was here. He didn't want to see this part of Merlin.

He did, however, hear everything. There was a scream from the criminal, which was sickeningly cut off by a loud wet crunch that echoes off of the cell's walls, and then there was no sound in the cell except a very loud silence.

Arthur slowly opened his eyes to the sight of Merlin standing in front of a corpse and tried to believe that everything was still normal.

And that's a wrap on this au! Man, that got darker than I expected it to be.

Be sure to let me know if you'd like a continuation of this au!

And, as always, thank you for reading through my ramblings! :D

[uncanny-tranny]

I think it's so relatable to see trans women and transfem and generally people who no longer have a testosterone-dominant system describing what it was like to have a testosterone-dominant system. I find that often, when they talk about being angry, depressed, irate, or just irritable, I relate because that was me before I went on testosterone. I was so fucking angry and irate and genuinely unpleasant to exist around because I didn't have testosterone.

See, I think instead of estrogen or testosterone being the "bad, angry" hormone, it's more like... of course trans people who need hormones are going to be unpleasant before getting hormones - both your body and your brain require that you have a certain level of hormone balance. Of course somebody like me was fucking furious all the time, the brain does weird shit when its needs aren't fulfilled!

This isn't about criticizing any one group of trans people, rather, I encourage people to remember that ascribing inherent qualities to certain traits (e.g., saying "estrogen is such a horrible hormone!") isn't necessarily good. It's absolutely fine to talk about personal experiences with pre-transition, I do that all the time! The only issue is bioessentializing hormones, in essence, ascribing inherentness to traits we often share.

[joequiinn]

The Dos & Don'ts of Fake Dating | E.M. x reader | pt. 4

[chap three] | [all chapters here] | [chap five]

Summary | You propose a crazy idea to the resident freak of Hawkins, Eddie Munson. But maybe he was even crazier for agreeing to it…

Warnings & Notes | fem reader, faking dating, opposites attract, bratty rich bitch reader, minor revenge plot, not-quite-enemies-to-lovers

Author's Note | Oooh lads, here we are again! I was going to save this chapter for tomorrow, but I'm having a bad day, so I decided to treat all of us with an update today! Not too much happens in this chapter, however, it still charmed me very much, and I'm the one who fucking wrote it lol. As always, enjoy and let me know what you think!

Taglist | @costellation-hunter @daisyridleyss @damon-loves-pie @damp4eddie @delilaaahhh @kthomps914 @lotrefcp @marrowfrog00 @mewchiili @munsonssweets @no-bueno-writer @rach5ive @sav12321 @steeldaisies

WC | 4.0k

Chapter Four

“What the hell?” Amelia hisses while practically slamming down her lunch tray. You looked up at her with feigned ignorance, your eyes cool as you took both her and Janet in. You’d once again attempted sitting at your new lunch table, the same dorky couple sharing it with you, amongst a few of their friends. Although the group briefly eyed you, they’d been ignoring you for the past few minutes. That is, until your friends showed up.

“What?” You asked before turning your attention back to your food.

“You know what.” Amelia insisted, staying on her feet with an irate look. You were shocked she even dared to come out here in no man’s land to talk to you for a second time. Janet, submissive as ever, stayed back, looking between you both with worried eyes, “Did you hit your head or something? Why are you suddenly so interested in Munson?”

Annoyance jaded your features. You settle your glaring eyes on Amelia, your voice just as accusatory as hers, “Why does it matter?”

She scoffed as if it was the most obvious thing in the word, “Because he’s a loser. What’s everyone gonna think if they keep seeing you two together? You already made a scene this morning, they’re already talking.”

You shrugged, far too nonchalantly for Amelia’s taste, as you spoke around a bite of food, which was actually your way of hiding the glee you felt knowing that people were already talking about you and Eddie, “Does it matter? Does any of this shit matter?”

“Of course it does.” Janet finally chimed in, her voice calm compared to Amelia, “You could get yourself in trouble hanging out with someone like him.”

You rolled your eyes before shooting her a condescending look, “When have I ever gotten in trouble for literally anything?”

“It’s bound to happen eventually.” Amelia countered, and you finally dropped your fork to look at them both, your frustration growing.

“If it bothers you so much,” You start, your tone cold and direct, as non-emotional and harsh as you could manage, “start hanging out with someone else. Start hanging around Duncan, for all I care. We have loads of other friends who I’m sure won’t do something as stupid as talking to a boy.”

Amelia rolled her eyes at the way you mocked them, familiar with the tone of voice you were using. She’s heard you use it at least half a dozen times before when you two had gotten into stupid arguments in the past.

“Look, whenever you’re done PMSing or whatever, you’ll see where we’re coming from.” With a finite look on her face, Amelia picked up her lunch tray again and headed off back to her familiar, comfortable lunch table. Janet gave you an apologetic look before scurrying off a moment later.

You should be upset. And, yes, a part of you was irritated by the conversation, and yet, a large smile spread across your face - you didn’t anticipate that you’d piss Amelia off so quickly and acutely. You two have fought a number of times before considering how easily your personalities could clash, but this felt like you actually accomplished something. Your plan was already working wonders, despite your continued doubts.

As you went back to your quiet lunch, you couldn’t help but watch your group of friends from afar, mostly in irritation, although you felt a mild pang of loss in your chest. They all looked so happy, so at ease with one another, and a part of you suddenly missed that feeling. But you knew you were just being nostalgic, because you wouldn’t feel any of those things if you sat with them - you wouldn’t feel happy or at ease, rather you’d feel annoyed and tense.

Yet you couldn’t help but that bit of sadness you felt at the sight of them.

Even Duncan, that asshole, looked cheery as he shared a laugh with the guys, clapping one of them on the shoulder. You couldn’t help but glower at the sight of him. Diverting your attention, your eyes began to scan the lunch room, wondering where exactly Eddie and his band of rejects sat. You’d never noticed before considering that it didn’t matter in the past, but it was probably a good idea to start keeping track of these types of things. 

You eventually found the gaggle of geeks, watching as they excitedly conversed. The mean-spirited part of you made a judgmental face, assuming they were talking about D&D or the arcade or something else equally as nerdy. After a few moments of taking in the group as a whole, you found yourself studying Eddie’s face, taking in his ever-changing expression; he didn’t seem to notice you watching him, which gave you a better chance at observing him.

Eddie was always theatrical, you realized, always throwing his arms around as he spoke or raising his voice for particular emphasis. You found it strange just how big his communication style was, especially considering how tightly wound you always were. Where he had his exaggerated movements and his dramatic tones, you had your tight motions and controlled voice. Just thinking about how different he was dared to give you a headache, and you caught yourself wondering what the hell you’d be in for once you two moved your fake relationship along.

Eventually, Eddie seemed to sense eyes on him, because his gaze found yours curiously. You raised an eyebrow, unsure if he was able to see the movement from halfway across the cafeteria; when he made a face in return, you figured he noticed. He, too, raised both brows as if in question, nudging his head ever so slightly - it appeared that he was asking you to join him, but you couldn't be sure if that’s what he meant. Nonetheless, you shook your head at him, deciding that you were enjoying your quiet lunch and that you weren’t quite ready to put up with his group of loser friends for even five minutes. Regardless of whether or not you wanted to, you knew you’d get to that point eventually. Eddie gave a shrug of his shoulders, as if silently saying “suit yourself;” and although he turned his gaze back to his friends, you two continued stealing glances for the remainder of your lunch break.

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Come Wednesday morning, Amelia wasn’t waiting for you at your locker. No one was except for Janet, who looked tense before she spotted you walking towards her. She tried to put on a brave face once you two met eyes.

You figured this meant Amelia wasn’t planning on talking to you anytime soon. Good. As for the rest of the group, it didn’t matter to you either way. Although, it was still surprising to see Janet here by herself - she must’ve been sent by Amelia.

As you approached, Janet gave you a sheepish wave. You couldn't help the familial smile you gave her - she was a much easier person to get along with than most others in your circle.

“How long before Amelia talks to me this time?” You jested with a mean quality to your voice.

Janet didn’t appear to be amused by it, though, as she responded, “She’ll hold out forever if she feels like it.”

You huffed out a laugh while opening your locker, “Good point. Maybe that’s not such a bad thing.”

You two were silent for a few long moments as Janet nibbled at her thumb nail and you moved belongings between your bag and your locker.

“What’s going on with you this week?” She finally asked, out of curiosity, rather than with judgment. Nonetheless, you shot her a look, to which she quickly waved her hands as if to calm down whatever bitchiness was about to stir up in you, “No no, I’m not trying to be mean. It’s just… you’ve been weird since school started.”

So, Janet noticed. You wondered if anyone else had. Maybe they’d all been ignoring it, but now that Eddie was in the mix they couldn’t keep that up anymore.

You shrugged as the pair of you began the trek through the halls to your respective classes, your answer noncommittal, “‘Weird,’ huh?”

Janet watched you as if she was waiting for you to elaborate, before sighing and asking, “Is there something going on? Like, something you need to talk about?”

You laughed without thinking, a mean and dismissive sound even to your own ears, “Yeah right.”

Hurt flashed across Janet’s face, her tone clearly different than it was a moment before, “Geez, sorry I asked.”

“Just stop worrying about it, alright?” You insisted with harshness, your eyes cold as you looked over at her.

With a resigned expression, Janet dropped her head and sighed, muttering as she walked away, “Yeah, whatever…”

It briefly struck you that maybe you didn’t have to be so bitchy all the time. But, then again, you didn’t really know how to be anything else.

Your day went on as usual from that point. You discussed a boring book in first period, you wasted time in second period, and once third period rolled around, a vague excitement struck you as you remembered that that was the one class you shared with Eddie. You should not have been excited at that thought, not in the slightest, and yet it added something interesting to your otherwise stupid and monotonous day.

When you entered the classroom, Eddie was already there, sitting at his usual desk in the back corner, looking bored despite class not even starting yet, drumming his pencil absently on his desk. As you approached and he spotted you out of the corner of his eye, he sat up a little in his seat, a nearly cute smile crossing his lips. Once you reached his side, the kid next to Eddie glanced up at you curiously, to which you made a face; meanwhile, Eddie just appeared surprised that you were the one to initiate conversation.

“Didn’t see you this morning.” You started simply, crossing your arms in front of you.

“I was late.” He shrugged lazily before giving you a conspiratory look, “What, were you waiting for me?”

You narrowed your eyes a little at his teasing, responding in a flat tone, “Oh, I was absolutely heartbroken.”

“Figured.” Eddie grinned widely, to which you responded with a subtle smile.

You turned away and went to your desk in the second row, surrounded by other students who were part of your usual circle of acquaintances. While waiting for class to start, you looked around the room, your gaze unintentionally drifting back towards Eddie. You studied him for a few moments before a decisive look graced your features and you abruptly stood back up. The movement caused a couple of people to glance your way, but otherwise no one cared.

You walked to the back of the room, turning your attention on the boy sitting next to Eddie, who awkwardly looked between you and his desk as if he were nervous under your gaze, as if he feared looking you in the eye.

“Move.” You say harshly. He looks at you in surprise and confusion, to which you raise a curved brow as if challenging him to defy you, “Move.”

You didn’t have to repeat yourself again. With a surprised scoff, he collected his things and migrated to the next available seat, which was sure to throw off the entire seating arrangement of the class for the day. As you plopped down at the desk next to Eddie’s, he laughed halfheartedly, his expression just as surprised as the other boy’s.

“Jesus, you are mean.” He states, although his eyes seem to show at least a hint of appreciation. You shrug, pulling your notebook and pencil from your bag.

“Well, I wanted to sit here.”

“Ever heard of the word ‘please?’” Eddie teased, shaking his head at you. You gave him a look out of the corner of your eye, refraining from talking back.

As the bell rang and the stragglers migrated in, people began to notice your change of seat. Some people looked at you strangely, others with disapproval, and the rest just didn't seem to notice or care at all. Hell, even your teacher had to pause and search for you during attendance, realizing you weren’t at your usual desk. Her vague hum of disapproval was enough to get a few students to shoot glances your way. As if in response, Eddie stretched his leg across the aisle to rest his foot on the metal basket beneath your seat.

Math class came and went, and as you walked out of the room, Eddie followed right alongside. As you led the way to your next class, Eddie playfully bumped your shoulder with his, which was starting to become a common thing between you two already, a quick way for him to break the rules you laid out for him.

You glanced up at him with a raised brow, “Yes?”

Eddie shrugged, looking falsely nonchalantly, causing you to narrow your eyes in confusion and perhaps mild annoyance. The playfulness wasn’t something you were accustomed to, nor did you think you ever would.

“You gonna sit with us at lunch?” He asked, to which you pulled a face, causing him to laugh without amusement, “I take it that’s a ‘no.’”

“I didn’t exactly factor your friends into this plan.”

Eddie looked nearly amused, but also perhaps a touch critical, “What did you factor in?”

You made a face, but he continued to simply look down at you with a slight grin. You sighed in response, chewing the inside of your cheek with thought.

“I guess we need to come up with some more rules.”

“Do I get to make some this time?” Eddie joked.

You rolled your eyes smally, “I’ll allow it.”

“Then I guess it’s a date.” You paused momentarily to look up at him with narrowed eyes.

“You still have to actually ask me out, that doesn’t count,” The pair of you reach your biology classroom, so you pause outside the door. “I’m expecting those flowers and balloons, you know.”

“I’m sure you are.” Eddie mocked, that damned grin still across his lips.

Students brushed past you to enter the classroom, and you briefly wondered if Duncan - who you shared this class with - was already here, if he had noticed the two of you. But you didn’t dare to look into the classroom, because just your luck he’d figure you were looking for him. But as that thought crossed your mind, you took a small step closer into Eddie’s personal space, putting on your best look of interest as you stared up at him. Eddie first appeared flustered and confused, but he quickly brushed it off as he seemed to slowly realize what you were doing.

“You’re not half bad at this, you know,” Eddie teased, his eyes shining as he said in a slightly lower voice, “If I didn’t know any better, I’d almost believe you liked me.”

Despite yourself, your cheeks warmed a little, but you hoped that it wasn’t obvious. Or maybe you did want it to be obvious. There was just something about Eddie’s tone that threw you off your rhythm, and you mentally kicked yourself for it.

“Don’t flatter yourself.” The flirty expression on your face juxtaposed your flat tone, and Eddie’s face looked almost wicked in response.

“No, that’s supposed to be your job.”

You had to pull your eyes away from Eddie’s - you had absolutely no interest in him, but this performative flirting was starting to mess with you a little. That’s something you’d have to work on as well, because you didn’t need this plan to confuse you one bit.

You didn’t realize how long the two of you had been standing in the hallway, as the ring of the fourth period bell nearly startled you. You found Eddie’s eyes again, giving him as cute a smile as you could muster.

“Go before you land yourself in detention.” You instructed; Eddie grinned widely while shaking his head.

“I practically run detention.” He, again, brushed his fingers along the small of your back as he moved past you, holding your eyes as you watched him go, “I’ll catch you later.”

You gave a small wave before dipping into the classroom, eyes roaming over everyone as you walked to your seat. You caught Duncan looking at you knowingly.

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By Friday afternoon, Amelia was over your spat earlier in the week, insisting that you sit with them at lunch, to which you begrudgingly agreed after she kept pestering you. Well, maybe she wasn’t entirely over it - her snide little comments throughout the week made that abundantly clear. But, just as most teenagers do, she chose to pretend it didn’t happen and go on with life as usual. She ignored the little glances Eddie would shoot you in the hall, the little knowing looks you two shared, and you didn’t mention your new seat next to him in math class.

After classes ended for the day, you were amongst a group of students lingering in the parking lot, everyone discussing that night’s football game and other upcoming plans for the weekend. You actually managed to hold a half-decent conversation with a couple of the cheerleaders and a boy you once upon a time had a crush on back in freshman year; that never went beyond making out drunkenly a couple times at parties. Nearby, Duncan entertained a group with some story that probably wasn’t as interesting as everyone acted; he hadn’t acknowledged you this entire time, and had made it a point of ignoring you since Wednesday.

The group seemed to be in agreement that they’d all go out after the football game, and of course it was presumed that meant everyone, including you. You avoided saying anything on the subject so you wouldn’t be held accountable for it later.

At some point in your conversation, your former crush made a puzzled face at something past your shoulder. You mirrored his expression curiously, looking behind you to see what caught his attention.

Eddie was approaching the group. You had to give him credit, it was ballsy to come up to a dozen popular kids as the guy who was almost universally hated in this school. In that moment, you appreciated Eddie’s confidence and lack of fear.

You decided you’d rather spare yourself the headache of everyone ganging up on Eddie, so stealing a glance at the group, you slid off the hood of the car you sat on, walking away from them without another word. As you met him halfway, Eddie gave you a devilish grin, his eyes drifting from you to the crowd of kids just beyond your shoulder. You raised your brow challengingly at him, but managed a small half-smile at his presence.

You briefly wondered what they were all thinking, what they were all saying. You hoped it was nothing good at all.

“They sure look happy to see me.” Eddie commented, casually sliding his hands in his pockets with a lazy grin once you two came together.

Just like you’ve been working on, you stood closer to Eddie than you would have liked, giving a performance even as your back was turned to all of your friends and acquaintances. You needed to be convincing at all times, so you tried to think about all the little details that would suggest you were interested in Eddie, even if no one could see your face - leaning in as you spoke, twiddling your fingers, etc.

“So, are you asking me out now?” You tilted your head to one side as you asked in a matter-of-fact tone.

A small huff escaped Eddie’s nose, “You’re a real romantic, you know that, princess?”

“Aren’t I just?” You taunted, eyes narrowing.

Keeping his face cool, Eddie leaned forward so you were nearly eye level with one another, a smirk still resting on his lips as he responded in a prodding tone, “I’m going to ask you out now. If that’s alright with you, of course.”

You made a face at his mocking tone, but nodded nonetheless, staring at him impatiently. Eddie put on an extra charming smile for the audience inevitably watching your interaction as he stood back to his full height.

“Then in that case,” He paused to eye you up and down with an expression you’d never seen on his face before - if you didn’t know any better, you would’ve bought it, and you nearly flushed at that thought. Eddie projected his voice, not so loud that it was obvious, but just enough that some of your friends were certain to hear him, “So, what do you say? Let me take you out tonight, anywhere you want.”

“Tonight?” You asked with actual surprise while Eddie smiled at you with a charming look on his face.

“Unless you have something better going on.” Eddie taunted while stealing a glance at the group behind you, his expression growing almost too cocky considering that you both knew that you couldn’t say “no.”

You were certain the group was watching your conversation unabashedly, if Eddie’s attentive eyes were anything to go on. You traced your tongue along your lower lip as you drew out the moment just as Eddie had done to you before. When it seemed that you were taking too long, his gaze flicked back down to you.

“I really hope you don’t have something better going on.” He added as if he were getting nervous, as if this was real and the feeling of rejection was creeping up on him. You raised your brows tauntingly, your expression a little mean, and Eddie realized you did this on purpose. He just had to refrain from letting his impatience show on his face.

You finally show him mercy, adding a flirty smile despite the fact that your friends still couldn’t see your face, “Anywhere I want, huh?”

You could practically feel the impatient exhale that escaped Eddie, his eyes showing the slightest bit of annoyance at you. But he kept that charming grin in place.

“Anywhere.”

“Then it’s a date.” Your tone is a little brighter as you try to convey excitement.

You turn back in the direction of the group so that you could walk to your car, Eddie coming up alongside you. Your stride is confident despite all eyes on you, and you can see some of them whispering to one another. As you breeze past with Eddie beside you, you see Duncan shaking his head in disbelief, while another friend makes a harsh comment about Eddie.

“Pick me up at 7,” You start to instruct, letting your cool eyes look over the crowd of popular kids, “figure out if any good movies are showing, I’m craving popcorn.”

Once you two reach your car, you lean your rear back against the driver door while looking up at Eddie who now had his back to the group. You almost enjoyed the reversal, as you were able to catch every small glance sent your way by Amelia, Janet, and everyone else; now you could see just how harshly everyone had been staring at you before.

You whispered, forcing Eddie to stand a little closer, “We’re not actually going out tonight, I have something going on.”

“Damn,” Eddie teased with a false grin, “you got my hopes up.”

“But we do need to make plans soon,” You continue, ignoring his sarcasm, “We have to figure out how this is going to work.”

“And it’d be nice if your fake boyfriend actually knew anything about you.” Eddie added, to which you made a face despite knowing he had a point. A curious look crossed his face, as if what you said about having plans just a moment ago was finally setting in, “So… what do you have going on tonight?”

“Not telling.” You answer simply as you give him a wicked grin. Your eyes trail back to the group of your former friends for a split second, and in an impulsive act of defiance, you lean up to kiss Eddie on the cheek, his barely-there stubble tickling your lips. You pulled back with a flirty look, desperately fighting the impulse to make a face at the physical contact that you just initiated, “We’ll talk next week, Munson.”

[a-thousand-eyes-and-one]

asoiaf characters who could hack it as a starbucks barista:

— jon. runs that shit like the navy. schedules five minute scream-cry sessions for himself in the supply closet but everyone pretends not to notice bc it kinda seems like its working for him. keeps accidentally charming the regulars

— arya. only ever works closing shift bc if you put her on morning/lunch rush she yells at customers. cleans like a crazy person and leaves the place spotless. WILL put a nick in your car’s tire valve with a box opener if you make her count the till

— loras. makes GREAT coffee and can smooth things over with irate middle aged women very easily. however if ur gay avoid his location bc he cannot stop himself from being catty its in his BLOOD. also:

— dany. hits her (painstakingly decorated) dab pen in her car before work so she’s very zen. however she Is the coworker you sic on asshole customers bc she’s very good at making them feel stupid and also never caves and gives out free drinks

asoiaf characters who could NOT hack it as a starbucks barista:

— sansa. is the aforementioned caver. always turning up the heat because she’s cold even though literally everyone else is sweating like pigs. stayed on a couple months because it turns out mean customers calm down when she starts to cry #prettygirlhack but eventually quits because she hates cleaning the bathroom

— theon. uniquely bad at his job. writes his number on every other cup he hands out even to people wearing wedding bands or ACTIVELY WITH THEIR PARTNER IN THE STORE (has been beaten up like four times doing this). never ties off the garbage correctly. uses too much water when he mops and has slipped in it and twisted his ankle multiple times. is a soundcloud rapper and is always trying to get the manager to play his music in the store

— robb. nobody wants to fire him because hes genuinely a great guy but he takes eighty million years to make one drink and he’s always comping shit for his girlfriend who comes in all the time

— jojen reed. okay at the job but is always saying ominous shit to customers and is passive aggressive to whoever closed the previous night no matter how good of a job they did. quit because someone else got fired for showing up to work high and he didnt want to be next

[candycandy00]

Love + Potion - A Yami x Reader Fanfic

You work at a bar Yami frequents and so you’re nearby when he decides to try a potion that turns him into a werewolf for 24 hours. It also happens to make him extremely horny. 

Smut. 18+. Fem Reader. Yami becomes a werewolf. Oral sex. Regular sex. Size kink.

Dividers by @animatedglittergraphics-n-more and @drizztdohurtin.

“Another.”

You look up from the bar, where you’ve been wiping up spilled beer. A few seats down sits your favorite customer, Captain Yami of the Black Bulls. 

He comes to this tavern often, a few times a week unless he’s off on a particularly lengthy mission. When you began working here a year ago, you found him intimidating. He’s huge, he’s gruff, and his squad is rumored to include all sorts of ruffians and even criminals! But you quickly learned that Captain Yami is nothing like you expected. 

He’s never made trouble for you. He’s respectful even if his tone can be impolite. When he spills his drink, he actually cleans it up himself! He’s broken up several fights before they could damage the bar, and on the rare occasion he gets involved in a scuffle, he takes it outside to avoid causing problems. 

One night a drunk customer got irate and threw a glass at you. Yami caught it in midair before it could hit you. Another customer tried to get handsy with you, and Yami literally dragged the man out and tossed him on the street. Some nights, when he stays until closing time, he even walks you home.

You’ve never seen Yami dead drunk. Tipsy, yes. But actually drunk off his ass? Never. No matter how much he drinks. It must be a stamina thing, because it’s obvious that Yami has stamina for days. 

Sometimes you catch yourself wondering if he has that much stamina in the bedroom. 

Yami is an attractive man. It’s well known in the kingdom that several women have their eyes on him, but so far he seems oblivious to their interest. You know you have no shot with him if the powerful beauties around him haven’t been able to bag him. But still, it’s fun to entertain silly fantasies. 

Tonight, he’s laughing and enjoying himself as he talks with another patron, a potion maker who often boasts about the strange, magical concoctions he’s created. This time it’s a potion that turns a person into a werewolf for twenty-four hours. 

Yami doesn’t believe him. No one ever does. The man has bragged about lots of different potions but has never let anyone try them. 

“I’m telling you, it really works!” the man is saying. 

Yami claps him on the back as he takes another drink. “Sure, pal! Whatever you say!”

The man’s face reddens. “Fine! If you’re so sure it won’t work, why don’t you try it?”

Yami pauses, sitting down his drink and looking at the man. “You have it with you?”

The man nods, digging around in his leather bag and producing a clear glass bottle with an amber colored liquid inside. “Here it is! Drink it and apologize for doubting me!”

Yami picks up the bottle and examines the liquid. “You say it only lasts one day?”

“Yes! One full day! Then it wears off and you go back to normal.”

“What are the effects?” Yami asks, seeming more sober and focused now that he’s considering trying it. 

The potion maker straightens in his seat. “You’ll turn into a half man, half wolf. Your teeth with get sharper and your senses will be improved. You’ll probably crave some meat.”

“That doesn’t sound bad,” Yami says. Oh no. Is he actually going to try it? You think it’s a terrible idea, but it’s none of your business, so you keep quiet and listen. 

“Oh, and you might have the sudden desire to mate,” the man adds. 

You freeze, the rag going limp and still in your hand. Yami… wanting to mate? You glance over at him, curious about his reaction to that comment. 

“Will I still have control over myself?” he asks. “I’m not gonna hurt anyone, am I?”

The potion maker laughs. “Oh, of course! You’ll have complete control. It doesn’t affect your mind. Just your senses and instincts.”

Yami finishes off his drink then picks up the potion. He pulls out the wooden stopper and smells the liquid, then shrugs. “Bottom’s up.”

As you watch, Yami downs the amber liquid in one big gulp, then sits the empty bottle on the bar and wipes his mouth. “Tastes like shit,” he says, and starts to offer another comment before he suddenly groans and holds his stomach. 

You step closer. “Captain? Are you alright?”

He looks up at you and forces a grin, even though he appears to be in pain. “I’m fine. Just need… to go to the… restroom.”

Yami stands up and staggers toward the back. You’ve seen him hurry to the bathroom before, but not like this. He’s stumbling over chairs, crashing through the place like a literal bull. 

The door to the restroom slams shut, and the whole bar falls silent. Many of the other customers heard the conversation, and you see them whispering to those that seem confused. Before long, everyone in the bar is waiting to see the results of the potion. 

You hear Yami grunting and groaning from your spot behind the bar. Then he screams out in what sounds like pain. The scream morphs midway into an ear splitting howl, and a chill runs down your spine. What’s happened to your beloved customer?!

The door to the bathroom swings open, and Yami walks out. Under the lights of the bar, you can see the changes clearly. He’s a little taller, his hair a little longer, and there seems to be a thin coat of fine dark fur all over his exposed arms. His eyes are keener, taking on a blood red color with strangely shaped pupils. When he opens his mouth, you can see that his teeth are all razor sharp. 

A few people hoot and hollar, clapping and cheering. Yami grins at them. 

“How does it feel, Captain?” someone shouts. 

“It felt like hell for a minute there,” he says, and the crowd laughs. “But now? It feels pretty damn good!”

He makes his way back toward the bar, answering a few questions along the way and even letting a curious lady touch the fur of his arm. When he takes his usual seat, he looks at you and says, “Give me whatever you serve that has meat in it.”

“R-right away, Captain,” you say, flustered by the intensity of those red eyes. You serve him a pork roast sandwich, then watch as he devours it in seconds. 

“Are you really alright?” you ask him. 

His eyes shift to your face again, then slide down. He’s never looked at you this way before, not even once, but now his gaze seems to be lingering on your chest. 

“I’m good,” he says, eyes moving back to your face. 

The night wears on, with Yami drinking and ordering more meat dishes. He seems to be in good spirits, and even buys the potion maker a drink, an apology for doubting his work. 

The guests begin to thin out, and by midnight, only Yami and the potion maker remain. 

“It will wear off tomorrow, right?” Yami asks. 

The potion maker puffs out his chest. “Of course it will! My potions are perfect!”

With that, the man leaves, and Yami is the last person at the bar. Even the other employees have gone, leaving you to lock up the place. 

Yami glances at the clock on the wall. “About closing time, huh?”

You’re sweeping the floor, moving chairs as you go along. “As soon as I finish cleaning up,” you say. All night you’ve been feeling his eyes on you, seeming to track your every move. 

He leans over onto the bar. “I’m not lookin’ forward to going home. My squad’s gonna have a lot to say about this.”

You don’t look up from the floor. You’re afraid he’ll notice how flushed your face is. “Oh really?”

“I know a couple who are gonna freak out and call me reckless. At least one will want to fight me in this form. And a few will probably wanna pet me,” he adds with a laugh. 

Without thinking, you say, “Well your fur does look very soft, Captain.”

Oh no. Did you just say that? Out loud? You keep your back turned to him as you lower your head. 

“Wanna touch it?” 

You freeze at the sound of his voice. Slowly, your turn to look at him. Your eyes meet his, and they look… hungry. 

“Are you sure you don’t mind?” you ask, stepping closer. 

He holds out one arm toward you. “I’m sure.”

Hesitantly, you reach out and touch his arm, your fingertips brushing over the fur there. It feels like velvet, and soon your whole hand is rubbing his arm, from his shoulder to his wrist. You can feel the taut muscles beneath the silky fur, and you feel something within you tighten. 

“So?” he asks. “How is it?”

His eyes are locked on yours again. You swallow and say, “It’s as soft as it looks, Captain.”

“Yami. Call me Yami.”

Your hand is still on his arm. “Yami,” you repeat, feeling heat creep across your face. 

A moment passes between you, then you withdraw your hand. “If you really don’t want your squad to see you, just stay here tonight. There’s no bed but there’s a bench in the back.”

“You wouldn’t get in trouble, would you?” 

You smile. “I don’t think the owner would mind. It’d be like having the best security guard in the world for free.”

“Thanks,” he says. “I think I’ll do that.”

You take your time finishing up the cleaning, suddenly being in no hurry to leave. When you’re finally done, you walk back over to the bar. “The bench is in the back. I’ll show you before I leave.”

He looks at you, that same hunger in his eyes. “You’re not staying? I might get lonely.”

“Uh, well… I…”

He breaks eye contact and looks away. “Sorry. I don’t know what I’m sayin’. This damn potion is makin’ me act weird.”

“I don’t mind!” you blurt out, then instantly regret your honesty when he looks at you again. “I mean… I don’t mind staying here tonight and keeping you company,” you add, hoping he doesn’t pick up on your embarrassment. 

“Are you sure? You’re probably tired from workin’ all night.”

Ahh, his eyes are so intense right now. His voice is even deeper than usual. And you’re standing so close to him, you can feel his body heat. 

You can feel something else too. A growing wetness between your legs. 

“I’m positive,” you say. “How about another drink? Or another sandwich?” 

You start to step away, but his big hand catches your wrist. It’s a gentle grip, but it stops you in your tracks. He leans closer to you, and… sniffs? 

“You smell good,” he says. Then his eyes widen slightly, as if he’s just realizing something. He focuses on your face. “Are you…?” Then his eyes trail down your body, pausing below your waist. 

Wait, can he smell your arousal? When his eyes move back to yours, you know it’s true. The unfinished question lingers in the air between you, and his hand is still holding your wrist. You stare at him for a moment, mentally debating what you should do. You’ll probably never get another chance like this, to be alone with a horny Yami. How many women in the kingdom would give anything for an opportunity like this? 

So you decide to throw caution to the wind and go for it. You lean closer, locked in his gaze, and ever so slowly kiss his parted lips. He doesn’t pull away, which is a good sign. When you part from him, he says nothing at first, only lifts his cigarette to his mouth and takes a drag before putting it out in the nearby ashtray. After exhaling the smoke, he quickly pulls you closer and kisses you back. 

This kiss is different from the one you gave him. This is all heat and tongue and his free hand sliding into your hair. His fingers are tipped with sharp claws, but he’s being careful not to scratch you. 

You lean into him, your hands pawing at his thin white shirt, trying to drag it up. You’ve wanted to see him shirtless for as long as you’ve known him, and now you can’t get it off fast enough. 

He breaks the kiss long enough to slip the shirt over his head and drop it to the floor. His muscular chest is also coated in a thin layer of that velvety fur. It becomes thinner as it goes down his torso, becoming almost invisible by the time it hits his waist, save for a thicker, narrow patch trailing from his navel down to beneath his belt. Does it go all the way down? You can’t wait to find out. 

His hands move to the front of your dress, untying the laces of your simple corset. With it loosened, the fabric of the dress beneath it slips down, your breasts spilling out. Yami wastes no time squeezing one while his head dips down to take the other into his mouth, his lips sucking the tender nipple. 

You sigh in pleasure, one hand on his head, fingers raking through his hair. His touch is hot, burning with a desire you never thought you’d feel from him. One of his arms circles around your waist, holding you close, and you can smell a strong, woodsy musk. Yami’s scent. It’s intoxicating. 

He stands up from the stool and lifts you onto the bar so that you’re sitting on the edge, facing him, legs dangling. He pushes your dress up to your waist, then slides your modest white panties down, under your ass, and off your ankles. With them discarded, he parts your legs, and leans his face in. 

Yami devours your pussy the way he devoured the pork roast sandwiches, like he was starving, ravenous. His big, warm hands are on your thighs, holding them apart while his tongue laps at your dripping cunt. And when his lips wrap around your throbbing clit, you gasp and shudder, your hands flying to his shoulders to have something to grip. 

“Captain…” you moan out, then, in an even more breathless tone, “Y-Yami!”

It feels so good, you think you might simply dissolve into a pool of goo. He’s always seemed somewhat indifferent to women, so you assumed he wasn’t one of those playboys with tons of experience. But this is clearly not a man who has never pleasured a woman before. He’s too good at this, his tongue pressing into the exact spots that have your whole body jerking. 

When you cum, your thighs quivering in his grip, you find yourself squirting for the first time in your life. The intensity of the orgasm has you panting as Yami licks up every drop. 

You barely catch your breath before you notice Yami unbuckling his belt and opening his pants. You stare in anticipation as he pulls out a monstrously huge erection, leaking from the tip and seeming to twitch in his hand. You’re already drenched, slick with your fluids and Yami’s saliva, but taking his cock is going to be a challenge. 

Is it so big because he’s a werewolf now? Or is it always like this? Either way, you spread your legs even wider and lean back on your elbows, looking up at him expectantly. 

He grins at you. “Think you can take it?”

You smile back at him. “If not, I’ll surpass my limits,” you say, using the phrase he was famous for in the kingdom. 

He laughs heartily, then leans over you. “Ready?”

You nod, your heart racing with excitement. With his improved senses, he can probably hear it. He definitely hears your breath catching as he begins sliding his cock inside you. 

He goes slowly, carefully, giving your body time to stretch and accommodate him. You feel so full already and he’s only halfway in, but you weren’t kidding about surpassing your limits. You want him all the way inside you. 

Your legs wrap around him, pulling him closer, you slick pussy drawing him further in. God, he’s so big, so warm, you want to stay like this forever. He grunts as he finally bottoms out, his tip smushed against your cervix in a satisfying way. 

For a moment, he doesn’t move, as if he just wants to enjoy the feeling of being fully sheathed inside you, of your soft, slippery warmth wrapped around him. 

Then, he begins lightly thrusting into you, watching your face for your reaction. When you cry out in pleasure, reaching up and throwing your arms around his neck, his thrusts become deeper, harder. 

You can feel his fine fur rubbing against your bare chest, and it drives you wild. You bury your face in his neck, whimpering his name as he pounds into you, your body nearly lifting from the bar with each thrust. 

He’s breathing hard, a sheen of sweat on the parts of his skin not covered in fur, intensifying his scent. You want it to seep into your skin and mark you forever as his. His toned abdomen, with its trail of soft hair, is rubbing your body, creating the friction you crave, making your breaths come shuddering and rapid. 

With a loud cry, you climax again. Your entire body, from your arms to your legs to your silky pussy, clenches him tightly. He fucks you through it, his own muscles seeming to spasm as he suddenly groans and plunges in deep. He stays that way, absolutely buried inside you as he cums, shooting his entire hot load directly into your core. 

For several moments, the two of you remain tangled together. Then you slowly separate. He helps you down from the bar and you stand on shaky legs, not moving until you feel steady. 

Quietly, the two of you clean up, and you pour Yami another drink. 

“I hope I’m still welcome here tomorrow night,” he says, seeming just a little awkward as he lights another cigarette. 

“Of course you are!” you tell him. “You’re my favorite customer!”

He looks at you and smiles. “Oh? That’s funny. I come here all the time because you’re my favorite bartender!”

You laugh at that remark, thinking you’ll have to thank the potion maker the next time you see him. His werewolf potion may as well have been a love potion! 

[clairdelunelove]

jealous!yuuji who adamantly snuffs out any attempts of flirtation directed towards you– even if you aren’t his

jealous!yuuji who’s stuck in the predicament of staying close friends with you. it’s an awkward struggle to teeter in-between the edge of what he wishes and reality. he’s a relatively decent guy. although he doesn’t have much he doesn’t need fancy ways or shiny things to gift you. instead, he gazes at you with honest eyes, takes your cold hands in his warm ones, and always remembers to lower his voice when you’re sleeping beside him. it’s genuine, authentic– him. and you’re on cloud nine. he catches the way your eyes flicker to his lips while he’s talking or how you borrow his sweatshirt more than once. but the two of you never speak a word about it. never owned up to any feelings in fear of losing the friendship you both shared. so it’s no wonder there are times like these where yuuji has to endure the flirtatious remarks thrown your way while the two of you are spending the day at the local arcade. and does yuuji blame the other person for finding you attractive? no, not completely. because you’re dazzling underneath the arcade’s fluorescent lights. vibrant shades of ruby, emerald, and gold dance off your soft features. takes every ounce of willpower within him not to gawk at you whenever he treats you to these outings. so he stands there, stiff and silent, as you toss him a desperate glance to bail you out of the situation. but you both know there’s nothing he can do. you’re not his. vaguely, he wonders if this qualifies as cruel and unusual punishment. it isn’t until the stranger pushes his luck, gets a bit too handsy with you, and yuuji– the sweetest and most selfless guy you know– snaps. 

jealous!yuuji who instinctively reaches for your wrist when the stranger treads into your personal space. forgotten is the overpriced game that the two of you were in the middle of playing. yuuji had shoved his game-card into the machines’ slots (paying for yours in the process) and playfully mentioned how you wouldn’t be able to beat his high score. it’s a basketball game, of course. but now the game’s final buzzer rings to signal that the timer’s up and your game was cut short because of this brassy stranger. your face whips to yuuji, a call for him to help, and the blushy haired male is already reacting. he’s aware that’s one of your biggest pet peeves so it’s no wonder you’re startled. long fingers wrapped around your skin, he checks in with you by gently murmuring, “you okay?” you nod, focusing on how his brows crease as his hand moves to cradle your face and gauge your reaction. honeyed eyes skitter across your face, stopping just a second longer on your glossy lips. a couple moments pass before he’s dropping his grasp onto you and stuffing his hands back in his pockets. he’s so tense over such a small incident and the ideal causes your cheeks to warm. “I’m good, yuu. thanks,” you answer before the moment is interrupted by the overbearing stranger. “look, my bad. but,” the guy rubs at the back of his neck and explains, “you’re really pretty and I just wanted your number.” it’s not often you’re complimented in public so you’re compelled to force a sheepish smile, unable to detect how yuuji goes rigid at the statement, and apologize, “sorry but I’m not interested. thank you though.” you’re polite about it yet the flirt (apparently) isn’t used to getting turned down because he’s frowning. “it’s ‘cuz of your friend here, isn’t it?” then, the guy gives a pointed stare at yuuji’s closeness with you.

jealous!yuuji who’s peculiarly irate and blurting out, “friend?” his voice is unusually sharp. it’s like he’s spitting out venom when he says the word. taking a step in front of you, he uses his broad physique to cast a shroud over you. and you’re reminded just how wide his muscled shoulders are from under the faded cotton of his jacket. makes you dizzy. the swirls of forbidden desire biting at you. the stranger only shrugs in response to yuuji’s inquiry, muttering, “yeah. she’s not your girl right?” and yuuji clenches his jaw as he discerns the audacity of the other male’s words. taking yuuji’s silence in stride, the flirt makes a grab at your wrist and mentions, “so how about that number, beautiful–” but yuuji’s quicker. his calloused hand swats at the guy’s before he can tug you towards him. the smack produces a blow that you’re certain will sting until tomorrow morning. “she said no so get your hands off her, dude,” yuuji’s voice drops as his gaze narrows, “and don’t ever pull that crap around me again.” his expression is deadpanned. serious to the point of lethality. and if anyone knows anything about yuuji– it’s that he can fight. combat experience, power, stamina; he’s got it all. yet, it’s almost unnerving to hear such a tone of voice coming from him since you’ve only ever seen him upbeat. the stranger appears even more frightened than you are, though. a glance at yuuji’s veiny, muscled forearms and the guy is stumbling through a weak apology; even scurries away and leaves the both of you alone again. idle in the middle of the arcade. you stare up at him, only met with the back of his head where little tufts of blushy hair stick out underneath his backwards cap. yuuji’s eyes are still trained on the guy’s retreating figure. he exhales heavily once the stranger is completely gone but doesn't let his guard down. a beat of silence passes and the realization that he’d just scared off one of your potential suitors has his eyes widening in alarm. 

jealous!yuuji who, when he whips around to face you, expresses the epitome of innocence. his pink lips are set in a pout that adds to the sheepishness written on his face, “sorry, I don’t know what came over me–” but to his shock, you’re laughing. you’re in full hysterics, clutching at your stomach and covering your mouth to maintain some sense of decency despite your giggles. usually yuuji’s nerves would settle from hearing that melodic sound but he’s stumped. genuinely baffled at your reaction to the whole ordeal. “what’re you laughing at?” he asks as his head whips to the direction the stranger sprinted off to and adds, “I don’t see anything funny.” and the pure bewilderment that he expresses is too amusing. “sorry, I just,” you take a breath and gesture to his face, “I’ve never seen you that mad before.” and the notion of why he wouldn't be irritated crosses his mind. “oh c’mon,” yuui huffs almost childishly, “you and I both know what he was trying to do.” he declares this like it’s the most obvious trick in the book. and when you quizzically tilt your head at his comment, a habit you do that never fails to make him swoon, he’s sputtering on his words. “you’re joking, he was literally flirting with you,” he swipes an exasperated hand over his face as his voice borders a whine, “while I was there!” and you can’t help but realize how much boyish charm yuuji carries with him. he gazes at you; starlight eyes looking into yours like you hold his heart in your hands. truly, it’s sensible to him– this vex that crept up on him like a monster and encompassed his entire being due to a singular person’s act. an inkling of bitterness that he’s never been greeted with. never felt the need to keep what’s important to him close. to encompass it: mind, body, and soul. perhaps his feelings towards you were stronger than he imagined. 

jealous!yuuji who’s immediately dropping his uncharacteristic frown once your hands reach for him. he’s easily lulled into your space. you just have a magnetic pull that he never opposes and he doesn’t plan to any time soon. a soothed breath passes his lips when he recognizes your fingers brushing underneath his backwards cap. a small gesture that always works to relax him. leaning forward, he positions himself so it’s easier for you to smooth the strands of his tousled hair from where it’s hidden from view. “that jerk could’ve asked anyone else for their number,” he grumbled, breaking the stillness. you glance at him as he chews at his lower lip, sulking at the audacity of the stranger that found you attractive. you’re giggling at his honest display of affection and the sound is like a balm over his unease. understanding that alleviates his spite. “are you jealous, yuu?” you tease but your voice is sweet. and you’re wholeheartedly expecting him to retort, in true yuuji fashion, but his silence stuns you. instead, he turns to bury his face in the crook of your neck, breathing in your candied perfume, and relishes your embrace. he’s smitten by you. entirely. and you’re glancing to the side in a daze, memories and possibilities of the two of you dancing in your mind. a dream that you frequent more than you care to count. after a couple moments he pulls away with both hands grasping your shoulders. pure devotion drips from his eyes. you’re suddenly getting hot around the collar of your shirt and the tips of his ears are flushed but it was clear; this secret that was known between the both of you. the undeniable truth that yuuji was jealous– over you. and you jolt when he quietly (finally) mumbles, “I just didn’t like that too much, alright?” 

[mysticalmallard]

Silence

Description: Happy is in a bad mood, he doesn't want to talk about it.

Word Count: 839

Warnings: none just Happy being a grump

SoA Taglist: @arkytiorlecter @aimkatsz @ravennaortiz @darqchilddaydreamz @mischiefnevermanaged89-blog @hatersaremymotivators @theshynerdsworld @thefrogytimes @youngadult9016

♥︎ If you wish to be added or removed from this taglist comment or message me ♥︎

SoA Masterlist ♥︎ Main Masterlist

Happy was in a sour mood for some reason. He was sitting on the couch in his apartment. He wore only jeans, and was glaring at the wall behind the TV, like he could set fire to it through the power of his thoughts alone.

His girlfriend wandered in, took one look at his expression and frowns a little . She crossed over the floor and leaned against the arm of the couch right next to him.

"Babe, something up?" She asked, reaching out to gently caress his shoulder. Her touch usually served to soothe his temperament, but today it was not having the same effect. His frown deepened slightly and he didn't react beyond a tiny huff out his nose as she touched him.

She was beginning to get a little worried. Happy was usually a very pleasant, but somewhat stoic person. He didn't often get into moods like this, but on the rare occasions that he did, they were often rather intense. She knew from past experience it was best to let him talk when he was ready, rather than trying to badger him into talking.

So, she stayed where she was, patiently stroking his shoulder and back like you would in an attempt to placate an irate animal, but it seemed to have no effect.

Happy sat in absolute silence for several minutes before he finally spoke."Bad day," he grunted finally.

His girlfriend didn't outwardly react to his words, but internally, she was a little relieved. The fact that he was at least talking was, in her experience, a good sign. She was careful to keep her replies low and soft, not wanting him to think she was trying to aggravate him.

"Want to talk about it?" She asked gently.

"Don't really feel like talking," he replied, a slight edge in his tone. He leaned forward and rested his forearms on his thighs.

While not necessarily an angry gesture, it wasn't a particularly positive one either. Happy wasn't the kind of man to share his emotions openly, even with the woman he loved.

He sat back against the couch, stretching out his long legs with a hefty exhalation as he did so. He remained sitting like that for a moment, just listening to her moving around in the kitchen.

She hums, standing walking into the kitchen.

Happy's eyes flicked up to follow her as she walked away. He watched in silence as she padded into the kitchen, disappearing from view, the sound of the floor creaking slightly under her feet.

After a moment or two of silence, his girlfriend returned, carrying two bowls full of cereal. Happy immediately recognized them as his favorite, prompting a slight raise of his eyebrows in surprise.

He hadn't expected her to do something so considerate, his foul mood leading him to believe she would likely be just as pissed at his behavior as he was.

A hint of a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth as he watched her put the cereal down on the coffee table and turn on the TV.

Cartoons flickered to life on the screen, which only furthered his smile.she grab her bowl and joins him on the sofa next to him but still making sure to leave space between them, not saying a word. Happy eyed her silently, studying her profile as she watched the cartoons with an air of calm patience.

Her lack of reaction to his mood was perplexing to him. His ex's would usually comment on his grumpy mood in a teasing manner, yell at him for ignoring them, or at the very least ask him to lighten up. Yet, she said nothing, simply sitting there, eating her cereal.

He felt his frown gradually soften somewhat, the calm atmosphere and the cartoons slowly beginning to have a positive effect on his mood. He remained quiet for a few more moments as they sat in silence, the only sound being the chirping of cartoon characters and the quiet clinking of their spoons against their bowls.

The longer he sat there, the more her lack of reaction began to feel like an absence instead of a presence. It was strange not having someone poking at him to talk about his feelings. It wasn't entirely unwelcome, but it was certainly different.

He glanced over at her again, taking in her composed expression, the curve of her jaw, the way stray strands of her hair dangled over her shoulder.

Then, he did something unusual, even for him.

He wordlessly scooched himself closer to her until their bodies were almost touching.

She looked up at him with a hint of surprise in her eyes, her gaze flicking from the cartoons for the first time since she sat down. The faintest trace of a smile tugged at her lips, betraying her otherwise neutral expression.

She didn't move away when he shuffled up to her, allowing his shoulder and hip to press against hers. She waited patiently, not commenting, not questioning, just content to be close to him.

[midnightarcheress]

Simon thinks he could live like this.

pairing: bodyguard!ghost x actress!reader cw: nothing he's just down bad 7 | gold rush masterlist.

“are you insane?!” Daniel shouts, slamming the door behind him and stomping his feet towards Simon with a menacing look, “you think you can just move her around like this?”

“she wasn’t safe in that house, this is for her protection,” he answers promptly, crossing his arms and taking a step in front of you, covering your frame from the irate man. if he could, he’d land a punch on his face in no time, not caring that technically he’s his boss.

“yeah? and you simply have to be here with her, right?” he scoffs, rolling his eyes at him. you watch the scene unfold from behind Simon, brows knitted together and bottom lip nearly bleeding from biting too much. he’d managed to momentarily tranquillize you, bring you back to earth after the terrifying panic state, but the anxiety kept simmering underneath your skin, just waiting for another chance to take over your body.

“the shitty security system you put in her house wasn’t enough to prevent the bastard from intrudin’, the bloody alarm didn’t even go off,” he retorts, eyes shooting daggers straight ahead, “so yeah, i’m gonna stay with her for as long as it’s necessary. contract says to protect her, doesn’t it?” 

the two of them stay quiet, a silent staring competition on Daniel’s side, a mere warning on Simon’s side. he won’t budge, won’t allow you to go back to that house, hand you on a silver platter to the grim reaper hiding behind letters and eerie messages. 

Dan leans on his side to look at you, ignoring the mass of a man in front of him. “are you sure about this?” his tone is strangely soft, like a switch flipped in his mind, all anger vanishing. you nod, offering him a small smile that does a poor job of concealing how nervous you are about the situation. he purses his lips, taking one last glance at Simon’s unwavering posture before sighing in defeat.

it’s been two weeks since the mirror message that led Simon into comforting you, and two weeks since he had to control his own panic, trying his best not to spiral. it had been a while since he shared a living space, so staying with you feels like a dream that he’s constantly afraid of turning into a nightmare by saying the wrong thing, acting the wrong way, or even thinking about what’s happening. 

the safe house Price arranged is far from the size you’re used to, being at least three times smaller than your own house. but to his surprise, again, your reaction to it contradicts his expectations. it could just be you being a phenomenal actress, covering your resentment behind a beaming smile, but you seemed to have grown accustomed to his presence easily, didn’t protest once, never lamented the loss of luxury and privacy.

he wanted to deny the feeling, shove it deep down in his brain and lock the safe, but it was nice, the domesticity of it all. it was nice learning little details about your routine; how you only get out of bed the second time your alarm rings; how you’re definitely not a morning person, judging by the gruff good morning you mumble when you slide to the counter stool; how you love trying new recipes and quietly dance in the kitchen, freezing when you notice him watching you; or how you’re always carrying something to read, it being a book or a script.

it was nice making you coffee in the morning and seeing you rub your sleepy eyes, nice hearing you humming a song in the shower, nice catching a glimpse of you in lingerie when you forget to lock your bedroom door, nearly making him choke in his own spit by the sight of the small tattoo on your hip. is it a star? a flower?

he felt like he was playing house with you. a game where you’re his loving wife and he’s a devoted husband, where he could feed his delusions, live everything he was convinced he’d never have in this lifetime. inside those walls, he could do it all, except the one thing he longed the most – touch you. kiss the top of your head when you’re baking in the kitchen, run his fingers through your hair when you’re curled up on the couch, feel your soft skin under his fingertips when you lay in bed, bend you over the table when you pass by him in skimpy pyjama shorts.

“do you... wanna watch a movie?” you ask, remote in hand and head leaned back on the sofa, chewing the inside of your cheek and attentively glaring at the television. he tilts to the side, stirring his thoughts away and taking in the view of your features illuminated by the bright lights coming from the screen. it was easy to get lost in how beautiful you were, a magical creature brought to earth to bewitch him. 

your head suddenly shifts to where he’s sitting, and it hits him that you’re still expecting an answer. fuck. “uh, yeah, sure.” he mumbles, snapping back to the telly, swallowing the desires his throat dared to spill.

later that day, Simon steps onto the front porch for a much-needed nicotine fix, dark blues painting the sky as the last rays of sunlight vanish from the horizon. he hates the burning sensation of the smoke in his lungs, but always craves the lightheadedness and dopamine flush in his veins, no matter how many years it takes from his life. 

“god!” you jump, looking behind you and putting a hand over your chest to steady your rapid heartbeat, “you really are a ghost, aren’t you?” a chuckle falls from your lips after the startle, travelling the air like a lullaby, and he ignores the flutter in his chest that happens whenever you laugh.

“sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.” you shrug and turn back to your initial position, sitting on the steps and watching the crunchy tree leaves dancing in the breeze. he follows your gaze to the front lawn, bringing a cigarette from the pack to his lips, debating if he should truly smoke with you in there. you never complained, but he’s caught you frowning at the thin cardboard a few times around the house, so he decides not to light it.

“can i ask you something?” you blurt out, lifting your chin to face him, eyes searching for his, and his head dips, irises focusing on yours. one brow raises at your sudden curiosity and he nods, back propped against the column, waiting, “why Ghost?”

his jaw tenses, gaze shifting from you to the carton in his hands. the ever-dreaded question. “dunno. just a nickname.” lie. he couldn’t tell you how everything was taken from him and he faked his death years ago; how he truly became the ghost of man. you don’t deserve to be burdened with that knowledge, so it is just a nickname. 

he looks back to you, gauging if you bought his deflection or not. you’re still focused on him, vision flicking at every crease of his expression, waiting for any falter, but it doesn’t come. “you can call me Simon.”

the thin line of your lips breaks into a smile, cheeks rising and making his heart skip a beat. so much for easy detachment, “okay, Simon.”

the way i still have at least ten parts of this story in my outline but i'm so unmotivated to write it :(

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for taking pictures of my sister's house and not deleting them?

I (25f) and my adopted sister L (also 25) have grown up together since we were babies and are extremely close. I truly love her and want the best for her.

She has been married for 5 years to D (25m). They dated since they were 18 and got married at 20. I never had an issue with him except at times I thought he was immature. They have a kid together who is adorable and about to turn 3.

However, as they have been married i have an issue with him. I don't hate anyone, but he is highest on my shit list. Not an exhaustive list but he has (and I want to make this clear THESE ARE THINGS I HAVE WITNESSED I AM NOT LISTING THINGS SHE ONLY HAS TOLD ME ABOUT):

Whenever they argue yells at her. Even in front of guests (ahem me). She'll yell back and then he gets upset she is "raising her voice" at him, when he started it.

He won't let her get a job. He has canceled her applications for jobs before. She has sold some stuff online until he sold the materials she used to make things. Her only "income" is if he decides to give her an allowance and transfer money from his account to hers (please note they have BOTH their names on the accounts but one is considered hers one his). If she takes money from his account he gets mad. Bills, groceries, etc. Come from "her" account

Was always sweet but now uses her as jokes to his friends. Demeans her in front of them.

They move a state over after they got married, almost 5 hours away. Doable in one day, but many don't like to do it. Since being married, she has effectively not seen any of her friends except when they come into town to visit. I have went to visit her and one of her friends did, that friend confided they did not feel comfortable or welcome. That doesn't bother me cause personally I don't give a shit what D thinks and am there for my sister and nephew. But I have overheard D talk bad about all her friends, even me, snd encourage her not to talk to them.

The two friends she has made in the area D has told her to drop because they are "bad influences". The worst thing one has done was medical Marijuana that was prescribed to them. Not sure how they are bad except they've encouraged her to get a job and be more independent

D decided to get a cat, which my sister has a known allergy to. She didn't want the cat, but D brought it home. It has absolutely zero training and has destroyed their home. It pees everywhere, including my nephew's bed. It hates absolutely everyone except D, even attacking my sister for sitting on the couch next to D. D refuses to get rid of the thing even though it has scratched my sister and nephew multiple times and my nephew is afraid of it

Of course, there's more, but those are all things I have witnessed. The last part is what prompted me to take pictures of the bed that was peed on, the scratches on the kid and my sister. My sister showed me texts of her begging D to get rid of the cat and to me it seemed he threatened her, so I took a picture of that.

I personally believe D is an abusive prick. Definitely financially and emotionally, but not physically unless you consider neglect or him keeping the cat. He has never once hit my nephew or my sister that I have seen, and she has never stated he has. My sister has talked about leaving but then goes back to him, and I know on the outside it seems clear to me what to do but I know there is a cycle of abuse. When she is ready to leave him, she knows she can come to me and our parents.

However, D found out I took the photos. He called me drunk and extremely irate, but he didn't explicitly threaten me. It was implied. He called me an asshole, which is what made me think of this. He told me to delete the photos and that upon me doing so, he will get couples therapy.

On one hand I know they need therapy. On the other, what's to prove he will do this after I do that? My sister is begging me to delete the photos because she believes if they have therapy things will improve.

To be specific: D wants to be there when I delete them and make sure they are gone and to me that just proves how bad of a person he is because he doesn't want any evidence of any wrongdoing. My sister has sent me multiple texts and I know she has been trying to make a way for things in case it does go south, but she is afraid the inlaws will attempt for custody because apparently the inlaws have a bit of money and know the judge in our area. I dont want these photos to be used against her either...

AITA for not deleting them?

What are these acronyms?

[deniigi]

Audiobooks

Ever since I learned that 54% of Americans have literacy below a 6th grade level (for the non-USA folks, that's like age 12ish), I've thought of pretty much nothing else.

I don't know how to fix it besides advocating for equitable education and more funding for education and reading and art programs.

But I got to wondering (and worrying), what is MY level of literacy?

The good news is that OxfordOnlineEnglish has a way for you to find out here.

And for those of us worried if we are forgetting our vocabulary, there's Freerice.com here which is run by the World Food Program.

For every question you get right, they donate rice to children in need (I believe the funding for that comes from the ad revenue of you being on the page.)

But mostly, I've just been thinking about how my life is bettered by reading. Books, I mean. Not just fanfic (though obviously I'm reading fanfic, who do you think I am???)

Anyways, I wanted to give folks some links to some audiobooks I've listened to lately, since I have a hard time finding time to sit and read and I imagine that a lot of you do too.

Here are some of my favorites. They're making me a better writer, I think, and I also think they're making me a better person in the aggregate.

Here is a link to sign up with Libby if you haven't. You'll need a library card to do so. It's totally free to sign up and listen/read once you've done that.

Moby Dick (audiobook on Youtube) - is it nearly 24 hours? Yes. Do I regret reading about these irate Quakers? Never, Mr. Stubbs. Never.

Howl's Moving Castle (audiobook on Youtube in parts) - Howl with a Welsh Accent? Sign me up.

Their Eyes Were Watching God (audiobook on Youtube in parts, also on Libby) - This fucked me up so bad. The reader does the accents perfectly, and it's so immersive I nearly cried at a red light.

Pride & Prejudice (audiobook on Youtube, also available on Libby) - there is nothing like 19th century English to grab you by the lapels and shake you.

Beloved (excerpt on Youtube, full book available on Libby) - This book changed everything I know about literature. If you go through Libby, Toni Morrison herself reads you the story and it is haunting.

Where the Crawdads Sing (available on Libby) - I love literature written about the south, and this one is a murder mystery for a self-made scientist. Don't bother with the movie.

Pachinko (available on Libby) - The atmosphere of this book digs itself into your guts like a knife. There are a lot of feelings about generational trauma and being forced into a role vs. taking on the role yourself.

Fat Talk (excerpt on Youtube, available on Libby) - The author reads her own book and really talks about how we approach body-talk with children.

Heartberries (excerpt on Youtube, available on Libby) - I very rarely do not like the narrator of the story in some capacity, but in this one, I didn't like them and I think that was important to me to experience as a writer and a person.

What are y'all reading these days?

If you reblog this, please include a link to the audiobook or tell us where to find it.

[lizardaggro]

on the flip side (twst bully!au) pt 3

here we are, the long-awaited (it was literally like 1 day) part 3!! i wanted to declare on one of the actual chapters since those get seen by the most people that I DID NOT MAKE THIS AU, credit i believe goes to @azulsluver. i swear i don't hate you guys, leaving everything on a cliffhanger, but the good news is i have a lot of time on my hands due to chronic illness so i can update super often. also i gave up on the purple theme on posts bc tumblr hates me and always leaves the end of the word count black.

part 1 part 2

genre: gn reader, angst trigger warnings: bullying, mild yandere (will be escalating throughout the series, but no non-con) word count: 1246

You couldn’t really afford to space out and think about it though, not when he was right in front of you. Riddle tapped his foot impatiently, clearly irate at your lack of response. “Well?” He asked. “Do you not even have anything to say in your defense?”

Oh dear. However were you supposed to get rid of him when he was so intent on getting some sort of answer out of you? You had no idea what he wanted! He was more difficult to threaten, too, since you’d made up your mind that you didn’t want to be like your tormentors and completely ruin others’ lives. No, your end goal was just to make them leave you alone. After everything you’d been through, you really didn’t want to see them again.

It might seem strange to some people, that you weren’t dead set on destroying any semblance of normalcy they once had. You had all the ammunition you needed, of course. The Overblot victims would be the easiest to topple, considering what they’d done in and leading up to that state. But you didn’t think you were a particularly vengeful person; at least, you didn’t want to be. Crowley had always said that you must’ve been sent here to get his precious students to work together, so clearly you weren’t like them.

“I never asked for this, Riddle. Any of this. So if you think somewhere in your fucked-up mentality that you’re doing me some sort of favor, you’re dead wrong,” you intoned. Indeed, even though you just wanted them gone, you missed the days when you were all friends. Back when you thought everyone had your back no matter what. Oh, if only you knew what they’d do for you. It wouldn’t be hard at all to push some of the more unstable students over the edge. Those who felt they didn’t have anyone else. Much like a certain dragon fae who never did seem to get invited to things.

Riddle looked like he was about to say something, but before he could, he was drenched by a great torrential rain. Where did that come from? Didn’t the forecast say it was supposed to be clear skies and sunny for the rest of the week? Your question was soon answered, as you had two more visitors.

“Silver? Sebek? What brings you here?” You inquired, not at all amused. When those two showed up at the same time, it could only mean one thing, and it wasn’t good. Riddle looked like he had caught on as well, since he stepped in front of you, as if that would do any good.

“LORD MALLEUS REQUESTS YOUR PRESENCE!!” Sebek boomed. You’d made progress on his volume in the past, so you were sure he did it just to annoy you. Silver just stared. He always stared, you felt like. Sometimes you swore you could feel his eyes on you even when he was nowhere to be found.

“Oh, gee, I wonder what that’s about,” you snarked. “Poor little princey-poo doesn’t want his embarrassing little secrets getting out? Well you can tell him to fuck off.” You must’ve been feeling especially brave, since normally you knew that defying Malleus Draconia was as good as a death sentence. He wasn’t even that bad, compared to some of the others. He just… locked you in his room and made you listen to him talk, with no room to get a word in edgewise. He’d go on and on about one thing or another for HOURS, with no regard for your schedule or your bodily needs. Clearly fae had a different sense of time than most.

It was the loss of control over your own life that you hated; that, and that if he really still considered you a friend, he never bothered to do anything about your bullies. You knew he was more than capable; you’d witnessed his strength firsthand on multiple occasions. You didn’t know what his endgame was, and frankly you were too scared to find out. He could trap you there forever and you wouldn’t be able to do a single thing about it.

Sebek was not amused. He raised an arm, likely to strike you, but Silver placed a hand on it, effectively stopping him. “Don’t. You wouldn’t want Lord Malleus to see a bruise on them,” he reasoned. You didn’t get it. Since when would he care? Sebek roughly shoved Riddle out of the way, despite all his objections, and nonchalantly slung you over his shoulder.

“What the hell?!” You screeched, pounding your fists on his back. “Put me down! I’m not going!” You weren’t sure why you were objecting so vehemently; this time wasn’t any different than the others. But something about the dark gray clouds pouring rain on what should’ve been a lovely day just told you that this was not going to be good.

But alas, your plight was ignored. The three of you made your way to Diasomnia in silence. No one bothered to stop and stare in the halls, as you being carried off by people was somewhat of a normal occurrence. You could swear Savannahclaw and Diasomnia even had some sort of twisted capture-the-flag game going, for whatever reason.

When you entered the gothic-style castle, you were greeted by none other than Lilia. Much like Malleus, he’d never bothered you too terribly, only engaging in less-than-welcome pranks. You knew he was far older than he let on, so you supposed he didn’t see the point in such childish endeavors. There was, however, one thing you feared about the man: his cooking, which he tried to shove down your throat at every opportunity. How Silver grew up healthy you’d never know.

And so, of course, you were greeted by a plate of… well, goop, to put it nicely. “Here, have a seat, dear, I made lasagna,” Lilia offered with what you assumed was supposed to be a warm smile. To you in that moment, with the fumes starting to reach your nose, it looked like a shit-eating grin.

“I’ll pass, thanks. That is to say, I’d rather die than eat that shit, because it looks and smells like it’ll send me straight to hell,” you deadpanned. Sebek let out an unholy screech and started ranting about how dare you refuse Lord Lilia, even though you knew he wouldn’t want to eat it either. You did your best to tune him out. Silver looked relieved, surprisingly enough. You supposed he was able to empathize since he grew up eating the stuff.

Luckily for you, Lilia just sighed and walked off, taking his culinary abomination with him. The three of you who remained shared a look. “How are you still alive after all these years?” You asked Silver. He shrugged. If even he didn’t know, you’d just call it a miracle.

“SILVER, QUIT FRATERNIZING WITH THE ENEMY! LORD MALLEUS IS WAITING!” Sebek practically screamed in your ear. You really wished he would stop doing that. But you had more important things to worry about, like your impending death by dragon fae. Once you arrived at Malleus’s room, Sebek set you down and pushed you inside. You heard the lock click behind you. You gulped, feeling the pressure of being alone in a room with a presumably angry and very powerful mage. You looked up to see a pair of emerald eyes staring you down. Oh boy, this was not going to be fun.

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[thelovinghost]

Could I plz request a grumpy/sunshine dynamic (reader being the grumpy) for Tamaki, Hikaru and Kaoru?? Tysm!

Hell yeah

If you like my work, you can support me here or here [Anything is appreciated]

Tamaki Suoh

Your personality does not deter him

In fact, he'll try even harder to be friends with you

He wants you to like him and he'll do anything for you to like him

There is a part of him that doesn't even realize you don't like him, but there will be moments where he'll be like 'What if they don't like me?'

You do eventually tolerate him because-

1. He won't stop trying to be friends with you

2. He has more influence, power, and money and you really can't afford to have him as an enemy

And lastly 3. He's not all that bad to be around

He always does everything in his power to see you smile and/or happy

It makes him giddy and proud that he made you feel that way

He invites you to the Host Club and gets so sad when you don't show up

Although, when you do show up, he ends up neglecting his other guests, so Kyoya limits your time w/ Tamaki [Kyoya would like to eradicate your time, but Tamaki won't have it]

Tamaki loves giving you gifts, because no matter how much you try and hide it, you always give him a smile, even if it's small

He'll come over to your house, UNANNOUNCED, and it always irates you to no end. He just hates being away from you and wants to be near you

He kind of likes that you're mean, because he doesn't have any competition

Hikaru Hitachiin

Hikaru? Sunshine? Maybe in another universe

You're both grumpy and it takes time for you to become friends

You actually start off as enemies

You two have more in common than you'd like to admit

Kaoru is tired of hearing about you and finally invites you over so you can both talk, because he's sick of you

^So many death stares

When you two do become friends, thanks to Kaoru, everyone should be scared

You're like the little red devil on someone's shoulder and he's the worse version

You two are not a duo to be messed with

You gang up on people, by tag teaming them [Usually Tamaki is the victim of your tagteams]

[Tag team= Ganging up on someone in an arguement.]

Hikaru realize he actually really likes you, because you're actually kind of funny

He denies his feelings tho

He actually tries pushing you away in fear of these feelings. He doesn't want you to hurt him, so he ends up hurting you

This really pisses you off and you try confronting him

But he just avoids you

Kaoru tries asking him about it, but Hikaru either avoids the question or shrugs him off

Kaoru will soon pick up on Hikaru's feelings though, because that's his twin

He [Kaoru] confronts his brother and Hikaru tries to deny it, but he's cornered and he finally yells at Kaoru saying-

"Fine! I like them! Are you happy?"

Yes, Kaoru is happy and he pushes Hikaru to confess to you

It takes a while, but Hikaru eventually does do it, while Kaoru spies hoping for the best for his brother

Kaoru Hitachiin

He thought you were pretty and wanted to talk to you

Your grumpyness doesn't bother him, because his twin brother is grumpy too, so he's used to it

He'll listen to you rant and complain and try and give you advice

He keeps you away from his brother in fear of either you liking Hikaru, not being able to tell the difference between them, or you two ganging up on him when realizing you two are both mean ppl

Kaoru seeks you out and gives you little gifts to make you happy

^ Lots of clothes and fashion [Stuff that remind him of you]

Whenever you are sitting together, you both are usually a few feet apart, but slowly he scoots closer and closer to you

He's so in love that anyone can see it

Hikaru doesn't like you when he does finally meet you, because you're taking his brother from him

Kaoru acts as the buffer between you both

If you have a bad day, he's always there for you and is willing to try and boost your mood