#but i tried my best to find most appearence descriptions

[jestroer]

HERMITS IN DRESSES BACK WITH STRESSKALL!!

Inspired by wonderful, awesome, fantastic fic by @mawofthemagnetar The Sky Weighs Heavy Tonight!!! Couldn't stop thinking about their wedding dresses!!! :DDDDD

[basketonthedoorstepofthefbi]

"obstinate, headstrong girl" part 1 - aaron hotchner x fem!reader

in which you meet the incredibly irritating (who said that?) aaron hotchner at a party. you do not hit it off.

wc: 4.6k

cw: enemies to lovers! mentions of food & alcohol, jemily agenda (i'm not sorry), reader is hella stubborn, hotch is kind of a little bitch

a/n: this is part 1 😈 there will be more, trust

big fat thank you to my bestie @cerisereids for all her help workshopping / brainstorming with me! i also got the BEAUTIFUL dividers from the immensely talented @saradika-graphics

You hate bars. Most of the time, they feel like a meat market, with men ogling you up and down, surveying you like they have x-ray vision and are trying to determine if you’re worth the chase. 

Tonight is slightly different in that you are not going to this particular bar to chat up men. Your very good friend, Penelope Garcia, invited you and your other friend, Jacqueline, to a bar for a coworker’s birthday. Not just any coworker. The coworker, the Derek Morgan, that Penelope just rants and raves about. They are soulmates, from what you understand, in a weirdly flirtatious, sibling-type relationship? 

Penelope has tried to explain it to you and has always ended up confusing both you and herself. It is what it is, she’s said in the past. He’s my chocolate thunder, and I’m his babygirl. 

You think it’s best not to try and unpack that. 

Jacqueline is a couple of years younger than you and Penelope. She’s just a couple of years out of college, whereas you’re a couple of years out of college, plus a couple more years. Jacqueline is sweet. She’s painfully shy, though, and you and Penelope are determined to break her out of her shell. There’s another coworker of Penelope’s who, from what you’ve heard, would be a perfect fit for Jacqueline. His name is Spencer, and he’s supposedly this young, cute genius. Like, actually a genius. Certifiably.

The goal tonight is for Penelope to find a moment to introduce Jacqueline and Spencer. You’re tagging along so that those intentions could be a little bit better masqueraded. You and Penelope also know for a fact that sweet, sheltered Jacqueline would not attend a party at a bar full of strangers by herself. 

You don’t mind being a chaperone, of sorts. Jacqueline is like a little sister. You just want her to be happy, so you don a cute red dress, pick up Jacqueline in an Uber, and off you go. 

The bar isn’t nearly as crowded as you thought it would be. It’s still busy, sure, but there’s enough room to walk around without bumping into someone. That seems to calm Jacqueline’s obvious nerves when you enter the establishment. Your eyes scan the place until you finally spot what appears to be a party room just off the main part of the bar, and you see a flash of familiar blonde hair with pink highlights. 

“There’s Penny,” you say to Jacqueline, and nudge her with your elbow to follow you. 

You’re the leader as you serpentine through the bar patrons, and Penelope turns around to spot you just as you reach her. “My sweets!” she squeals, wrapping both you and Jacqueline into a tight hug. “Thank you so much for coming!” Penelope gestures to the party room, which is open for integration into the rest of the bar. It all seems very flowy and casual, with guests either standing or sitting with a drink in hand, talking and laughing with one another. 

There’s a table in the corner with decadent cupcakes that you’d bet are homemade, all crowded on a tiered stand, and various birthday decorations hanging from the walls. The jukebox in the corner plays 80s and 90s hits. You spot the birthday boy in an instant across the room, and you know it’s him from Penelope’s ridiculously detailed descriptions. He’s like a cheetah, personified, Penelope said before, and yeah, that might be accurate. 

Except for the bright blue, glittery party hat strapped crookedly to his head and the sparkly sash around his shoulders that says BIRTHDAY BOY in big, bold letters. 

“There’s snacks, and water in the corner if you’re not feeling booze,” Penelope goes into full hostess mode and points to everything. “How about you lovelies get some drinks, and then I’ll introduce you around?” She suggests. 

Jacqueline is ever the quiet one in all social situations, and you can tell she is overwhelmed by the noise, or maybe the amount of people that she doesn’t know. You know that she would be a little less nervous with a drink in her system, so you nod to Penelope’s suggestion and agree to meet up with her after visiting the bar. 

Jacqueline follows you like a lost puppy as you snake through the crowd again. One of the few perks of being pretty women, though, is that once you reach the bustling bar, your orders are quickly taken. 

You get an amaretto sour for yourself, a Malibu pineapple for Jacqueline, and she leans against the bar next to you as you wait for your drinks. “Lots of people here!” Jacqueline exclaims with a sheepish chuckle. She smooths the ends of her cinnamon-colored bob, one of her nervous habits you’ve picked up on over the few years you’ve been friends. 

“Yeah, but we love Penny, and she loves all the people in there,” You nod towards the party room. “So it’s like we know they’re cool by association, y’know?” 

“I guess,” Jacqueline shrugs, unconvinced. She’s lived a fairly sheltered life, from what you understand. Strict parents, so she never dated in high school, and always focused on her studies in college rather than a social life. It’s good to get her out of her shell. 

You’re given your drinks and you head back to the party room, where Penelope is speaking to two men. They’re both tall, but one is younger, with brown hair and a patterned sweater vest. The other is older, with dark, nearly obsidian, hair, and stark, narrowed eyes to match. He’s in dark, belted jeans, with a black polo to match his hair. When you and Jacqueline approach Penelope, you lock eyes with the older man for a fleeting moment.

He looks at you like you’re an outsider. And sure, maybe in this particular situation, you are. But with his tapered eyes, watching your every breath, you get the feeling that he thinks you shouldn’t be here. 

Penelope ushers you and Jacqueline into the conversation and introduces you. “This is Y/N, and Jacqueline, my two really good friends,” she says, then gestures to the lanky, younger man first. “This is the brilliant Dr. Spencer Reid, and the Unit Chief of the BAU, Aaron Hotchner.” 

Your eyes land on Aaron and he outstretches his hand, obviously out of obligation. “Pleasure to meet you both,” Aaron says coolly, and you shake his hand chastely. Your eyes flicker over to where Jacqueline shakes Dr. Reid’s hand. He’s already insisting she call him Spencer. 

Penelope was right, you think. Spencer and Jacqueline have an immediate connection. 

“Likewise,” you say to Aaron, merely matching the indifferent energy he’s putting out. Penelope, in true hostess fashion, excuses herself to check on Derek, leaving the four of you in an awkward conversation square, with Aaron and Spencer facing you and Jacqueline directly. 

“Penelope says you’re all in a book club together?” Spencer proffers as a conversation starter. He’s looking directly at Jacqueline, like he’s got tunnel vision, like she’s the only other person in the room. 

She nods and sips her cocktail through the thin plastic straw. “We’ve been going through the classics, one by one. Started with Pride and Prejudice a couple of years ago, now we’re working on War and Peace,” she explains. 

“Oh, fascinating,” Spencer seems incredibly interested by this. “I love Tolstoy. Did you know his wife, Sophia, helped him tremendously during the editing process? Over seven years, she hand wrote the manuscript eight different times, all while carrying and birthing four children.” 

Jacqueline loves weird facts like this, so she beams. You smile softly at this and are immediately met with thoughts of how tooth-achingly sweet these two would be if they got together. 

You and Aaron play audience as Spencer and Jacqueline’s conversation continues for a few moments more, until finally, Spencer suggests they sit at a booth to continue. Jacqueline shoots you a look, like, sorry for abandoning you with the grumpy guy! And you merely shrug as you are left alone with Aaron. 

“Well, aren’t they just adorable?” You flash a bright smile, and when your eyes meet Aaron’s, it falls. He’s so stoic and unemotional. You know he’s just standing with you to be polite, but at the same time, if he’s so uninterested in having a conversation with you, why is he still here? 

Aaron gives an impassive hum of civil agreement, and you clear your throat. “So, you’re Penelope’s boss, then?” you ask, rather than simply make an excuse to leave this awkward, cringey hellhole of a conversation. Maybe some petty part of you wants to see who will break first. 

“That’s correct,” Aaron’s fingers are wrapped around the glass tumbler of what is presumably whiskey that is in his hand. His forearm flexes a little as he shifts the glass in his palm. 

“What’s that like, working for the FBI?” you ask, shifting your weight to one hip as if to tell him that you’re getting comfortable, that he shouldn’t expect to go anywhere. 

“About the same as working anyplace else, I’d expect,” Aaron’s giving you absolutely nothing to work with, so you’re incredibly thankful when Penelope approaches the two of you again. 

“Oh, look at that!” Penelope squeals, squeezing your arm. She nods over to Spencer and Jacqueline, sitting across from one another at a booth, both leaning forward on the table, endearingly engaged in conversation with each other.

Jacqueline’s babyish face is plastered with an earnest smile, and you love seeing your friend so captivated and clearly in her element with Spencer. 

Penelope was right, they’re clearly well-suited. 

Unlike you and Aaron. 

“And what are you two talking about over here?” Penelope croons, waving a teasing finger between you and Aaron. 

“Not anything in particular,” Aaron’s deep voice beats you to it, and you feel your jaw tense slightly. He avoids contact with you, just stares at Spencer and Jacqueline. 

“Yeah, Penny, I was hoping you’d introduce me to the rest of your team,” you suggest, smiling saccharinely at Aaron before making pleading eyes to your darling blonde friend. 

Penelope’s chocolatey brown eyes dart from you, to Aaron, and back, and you can almost see the gears shift in her head. “Right,” she gets it, and you nearly sigh in relief. “C’mon then, Y/N, let me show you off!” 

You nod curtly to Aaron. “Nice meeting you,” you spout off, totally out of obligation. 

“Likewise,” says Aaron, mirroring how you’d thrown the terse colloquialism at him before. 

Your nostrils flare and Penelope manages to drag you away before you rip him a new one. “What the hell is all the animosity about?” Penelope asks as soon as you’re out of earshot. You see that Derek, the birthday boy, has approached Aaron in your absence. 

“Not animosity,” you correct Penelope, taking a chug of your Malibu pineapple. “He doesn’t like me, for some reason. Seemed to have made his mind up on that real fast.” 

Penelope scoffs. “Hotch?” You deduce quickly that this is Aaron’s nickname. “He’s such a sweetheart. You must have just caught him in a bad moment, Y/N. I swear, he’s one of the sweetest guys I know!” 

You purse your lips and feign an open mind. Penelope introduces you to the rest of her team - David, an older Italian man whose glass of wine cost about three times as much as your cocktail, then JJ and Emily, a blonde and a raven-haired woman who are obviously in love. 

Emily’s got her palm splayed across the small of JJ’s back, and the blonde leans into her touch. You wonder briefly how their relationship was approved by Aaron Hotchner, because, as you understand it, he’s their boss and he can be quite the stickler. 

“He can be a grump at times, that’s for sure,” Emily says before taking a sip of her wine. “But he’s a really great boss. He’d do anything for any one of us.” 

“Including going to bat for us staying on the team together after our relationship became public,” JJ adds, and you furrow your brows, shooting a sideways glance to the man in question. He’s still across the room, speaking with Derek, leaning against an empty spot on the wall and nursing his glass tumbler of whiskey. 

That guy? You think. That guy went to bat for the benefit of other people? 

“That surprises me,” you admit. “He was so cold when we spoke just a few minutes ago.” 

JJ, Emily, and Penelope all seem to share a look. They clearly know something you don’t. “Well,” Penelope starts, her voice inclining. “He’s sort of… going through a hard time right now,” she scrunches up her nose and shrugs her shoulders, as if to indicate that she can’t really say more on the matter. 

It’s none of your business, you remind yourself, but you also want to smack Penelope for dangling a carrot like that. 

“If he comes off obtrusive, just know you’re not experiencing the real Hotch,” JJ concludes. You spot Emily squeezing her hip as if to say that’s a good way to put it. 

Whatever that means, you think, and shrug your shoulders. “No skin off my back,” you attempt to appear nonchalant. Hopefully they won’t be able to tell that the thought of someone not liking you makes you want to rip your hair out. 

“Right,” Emily agrees, just as JJ and Penelope share a look. 

The two blondes smirk at each other. Simultaneously, they say, “Profilers.” And you wonder what the hell that’s supposed to mean. 

Over the next thirty minutes, you’re shown around the room by Penelope, introduced to a few more people. Finally, Penelope notices that the cupcakes are all gone and runs off to the kitchen, where she has more store in case of this very specific emergency.

You find yourself tucked away at a table in the corner of the party room, halfway hidden by the imposing and comically large jukebox. As you scan the room, you notice Jacqueline and Spencer still at the booth, still engaged in what appears to be very riveting conversation. Jacqueline’s got this demure, girlish smile on her face, and lightly flushed cheeks. 

“What do you make of that?” A voice asks, and you don’t see anyone around. You lean back in your seat and can see through the sliver of visibility between the jukebox and the wall. That Italian man, David, has just asked Aaron the question, gesturing across the room to where Spencer and Jacqueline sit. 

“Hm,” is all Aaron has to say, and you scowl, furrowing your brows as you watch him watch your friend. “She seems nice enough. Kind of a dud, though, isn’t she?” 

“A dud?” David repeats, scoffing. “She’s been keeping up with Boy Wonder for nearly an hour now. I’d say she’s either an alien or a miracle.” 

Damn straight, you think. 

“I suppose,” says Aaron, and you roll your eyes. He must hold an ungodly amount of pride. Probably totes it along with his stupidly expensive whiskey and his judgmental expressions and opinions about people he doesn’t know. Sure, you’re casting judgment on someone you don’t know, too. But this is different… somehow. Jacqueline is obviously very earnest and sweet, and Aaron is acting like he’s suspicious of her.

“Garcia’s other friend seems sweet,” David goes on to say. You’re not ashamed to admit that your ears perk up a little at this. “She’s fun. Asked me about my wine. Made a joke about cutting a rug with me on the dance floor.” 

“She’s something,” Aaron exhales as he says this, and you feel your jaw tighten a little. 

Something? What the hell does that mean? 

“What the hell does that mean?” David shares your train of thought, though his voice is lined with an omniscient, teasing lilt. “She’s cute. You don’t want to ask her for her number?” 

“No,” Aaron says quickly, too quickly. “No, I’m not even slightly tempted.” 

You feel your ears burn, and you look down at the empty glass in your hand. This has been your only drink tonight, and you’ve been nursing it for the better part of an hour. You let the condensation slicken your palm.

“What’s the matter with you?” David goes on to ask. “She’s very sweet, and she’s got a great sense of humor. And she’s beautiful, I might add. Why aren’t you interested?” 

You stand up from your seat, deciding you’ve had enough eavesdropping for one night. You don’t want to hear what faults Aaron Hotchner saw in you after a three-minute conversation. Feeling a bit self-protective, you march past David and Aaron without so much as looking at either of them. You don’t know if they notice you. 

You resolve not to care. 

Jacqueline joins you at the bar about thirty minutes later, and is smiling like an idiot.“So, Spencer’s really nice,” she says, breaking out her ID so she can buy another drink. She’s so smooth-skinned and utterly gorgeous that she does, in fact, get ID’d every time she orders a drink. 

“Yeah?” You smirk at Jacqueline just as the bartender comes back with your second drink and takes your friend’s order. “He seems really into you, too.” Even if his friend is a massive prick.

“I think we’re gonna go out,” Jacqueline beams, biting her lip anxiously. “Like, on a date.”

“That’s great!” You grin, glancing behind Jacqueline to see Spencer speaking with Aaron across the now-dwindling crowd. At this point, there’s just a handful of patrons for the bar, and only Penelope’s team remains in the party room for Derek. “You should! He’s obviously very polite, maintains good conversation. I’m only seeing green flags.” Except that his boss is a judgmental tool. 

“I just get so nervous, y’know?” Your friend says as the bartender brings her drink. 

“I know you do, sweetie, but he’s just a guy,” you begin. “He’s not some cosmic being who will alter the trajectory of your entire life simply by taking you on a date. He’s-”

“What?” Jacqueline follows your eyes, whipping her head around with no amount of subtlety. Her cinnamon curls flounce as she notices the same thing you are. Aaron’s staring at you, those unrelenting raven eyes. What’s he trying to do, burn a hole through your head? 

“Oh, Jesus Christ,” you mutter. 

“What is it?” Jacqueline’s constantly aware of the people around her. It’s a blessing and a curse. Mostly a curse, since you’re her Emotional Support Friend. 

“I just… don’t worry about it,” you wave it away, not wanting to stress her out. 

“No, what is it?” God. He’s still looking at you, maintaining his conversation with Spencer. You let your gaze wander and you see his lips moving. Is he talking about you so blatantly? 

You suppose you’re talking about him, but still. 

“I just don’t like Aaron, that’s all.” 

“Why not?” Jacqueline’s nutmeg brows furrow, and you meet her confused expression with a shrug. 

“We just don’t vibe. Don’t worry about it, Jackie, seriously,” you nod. “I’m not gonna, like, challenge him to a duel.” 

Before Jacqueline can attempt to defend someone she doesn’t know (God bless her), Penelope’s waving at you from the party room and beckoning the two of you towards her. 

You and Jacqueline grab your drinks and oblige. Derek and Emily are shifting tables out of the way, creating a small, makeshift dance floor in the middle of the party room. 

JJ is queuing up a few songs on the jukebox, and when “Take My Breath Away” by Berlin comes filtering through the speakers, a slightly tipsy Penelope is singing into her margarita and demanding that Derek slow dance with her. 

You end up standing by Spencer and Aaron, to your dismay, and you think for a second that Spencer isn’t going to ask Jacqueline to dance. That wouldn’t be totally out of character, but he does, and Jacqueline’s beaming, leaving you alone with Aaron. 

You let out a slightly annoyed huff and stir your cocktail with the little plastic red straw. You meet his unwavering gaze with narrowed eyes. “Do you like to dance?” You ask with half-assed interest. 

“Not if I can help it,” Aaron says, and you wonder for a moment if he’s joking. The ever-serious look on his face says otherwise. 

“I was looking for a pretty young lady!” A voice cuts in, and you turn to see David Rossi, of all people, standing before you. 

You smile softly. You know he isn’t flirting, he isn’t romantically interested in you, that he’s just being a nice older man and going out of his way to make you feel included. And you can’t help but feel warmth from him. “We were just talking about dancing,” you bring him into the conversation, clocking how Aaron’s jaw visibly tenses. 

“Ah, dancing. I remember when we had clubs all up and down the streets. You could go in and just dance until your feet hurt,” David prattles, and you purse your lips in the side of your mouth. He only looks like he’s in his early sixties, but you resist the urge to call him old, to tell him he’s acting like a grandpa. 

“Do you like to dance?” Aaron’s asking you all of a sudden. You spot Penelope and Derek slow dancing as well as Spencer and Jacqueline. Emily and JJ have even joined in on the fun. 

“I do,” you say simply, pursing your lips at him. And maybe it’s a little mean, but you look at David and plaster a devilish little grin on your face and hold out your hand. “Dave? Wanna cut a rug with me?” 

Aaron watches as Rossi throws his head back in one of those wheezy, old man laughs. 

“It’s been a long time since a pretty young lady asked me to dance,” the Italian man jokes, and Aaron knows that is simply not true. As a best-selling author, Rossi weirdly gets a lot of groupies. 

Aaron feels like he has a smokescreen up, and behind it, he’s fuming. He’s not jealous of Rossi, because he knows Dave’s just being friendly. But Aaron doesn’t think it shouldn’t be Dave dancing with you. It should be him. 

He doesn’t know why he told you he doesn’t dance. Maybe it’s this whole divorce with Haley. It was finalized nearly six months ago, but Aaron’s still reeling from it, he supposes. He’s not been on a date. He’s not even so much as looked at another woman in a romantic capacity, until you walked in tonight. Your hair looks so shiny, your face made up all glowy, like you literally have a halo hovering over you. 

It’s incredibly frustrating.

He didn’t know what to do. He panicked. He doesn’t want to see anyone right now, or at least, that’s what he’s been telling himself for the past six months. He wants to focus on his job and on being a good dad to Jack. 

But, god, the way your dress hits you right above the knee. He wants desperately to see your thighs. He’s been thinking about them all night, actually, how supple the skin might be, how sensitive. That’s why he’s been so cold to you all night - he’s trying to push you out of his mind, trying to focus on anything else. But you’ve got an attitude and a good sense of humor, and he couldn’t help but stare. 

It’s the same way he can’t help but stare now, when Rossi places one hand on your waist and clasps your other one. You’ve got one palm on Rossi’s shoulder, the other holding your drink as you occasionally sip it. 

You’re laughing and Rossi’s got crows’ feet from smiling, and he sways with you to the music. That song from Top Gun. Aaron wonders briefly if you’re old enough to have even seen Top Gun in the theater. 

You’re young. You’re not too young, per se, but you’re right on the line, Aaron thinks. He’s gripping his tumbler of whiskey - his third since you entered the party because god, does he need a vice right now - and his jaw is clenched as he watches Rossi twirl you out. 

Your laugh is heavenly and melodic and Aaron, for a split second, considers leaving just because of it. 

Aaron leans against the wall by the jukebox, the odd man out, with your friend Jacqueline dancing with Spencer, Garcia with Morgan, and, of course, JJ with Emily. He doesn’t mind being the odd man out, watching his team have a good time. It’s you he feels excluded from. 

Okay, maybe you’re not totally sober, you realize, as David twirls you out a second time. You hold on tight to your drink, but your steps aren’t completely precise, and your back slams into a muscled chest with a clumsy grunt. Amaretto sour splashes over the side of your glass and onto a pair of brown, Italian loafers. 

Gargantuan hands graze down your elbows, then clench your forearms as you regain your balance, and you turn around to see the brick wall of a person you’ve run into. Aaron’s stupidly dark, hazelnut eyes are drawing down your body. They bore into you and you feel your entire face flush, all the way down to your collarbone. 

“You spilled your drink,” Aaron exhales sharply through his nose, and you feel your expression harden. 

“It was an accident,” you bite back, taking a step away from him, enforcing the space you desperately need to keep from clawing his eyes out. You don’t hate people. But, god, is this man getting under your skin.

Aaron opens his mouth, and you think for a split-second that he’s about to reassure you. But he just clamps his mouth shut, into a straight line like a ruler. “Right,” is all he says. You take a deep, serrated breath and turn pointedly on your heel. 

As you return to David to dance, Derek cuts in, and you and Penelope swap partners. Derek is respectful as he places a hand round the small of your back, and you smile softly when you see Jacqueline and Spencer. They’re barely moving, and Jacqueline’s gray-green eyes are looking up into Spencer’s brown ones, and you nod in their direction. “God, they’re cute, aren’t they?” 

“It’s a miracle Pretty Boy’s lasted this long,” Derek chuckles. You arch a brow at this, so he continues. “He doesn’t do too well with the ladies. Not like yours truly,” he jokes, flashing his teeth. 

“Oh, please,” you tease playfully. You tug at his sparkly blue birthday sash to further your point. Derek laughs and spins you around. 

“So what’s going on with you and Hotch?” Derek asks. You roll your eyes. 

“Nothing,” you insist. “I barely know him. I barely know any of you, besides Penelope. God, you guys are really mixed up in each other’s lives, huh? I’m definitely not that close with my coworkers.” 

“Oh, we’re not just close,” Derek laughs. “We’re family.” 

“And Aaron is, what, the overbearing father?” You ask. You’ve had a couple drinks, and your filter is more or less nonexistent. 

“See, I knew there was something going on between you two,” Derek teases. You glare at him. He holds one hand up defensively. “Alright, alright, I’ll stop, but you’re in for trouble, sweetheart.” 

“How so?” 

Derek nods over to Jacqueline and Spencer. Both their feet are still planted in the same spot, but they’re swaying together. It’s dorky as hell, but so cute you could cry. You understand what Derek means before he even says it. “You’re about to become friends-in-law. The more Jacqueline sees Spencer, the more you see Hotch.” 

Your eyes flicker over to the man in question, now sitting at a table and talking with David. There’s some kind of magnetic tug, and Aaron’s eyes meet yours, and your knees buckle a little beneath you. Either you’re drunker than you thought, or you really are in trouble.  

edit: read part 2 here

[mcuamerica]

Stranded | Part One

Featuring (in the next part): Azriel x Fem!Reader, Eris x Reader (platonic), Rhys x Sister!Reader

Summary: Azriel left you in the Autumn Court border while Rhys was at a ball with Amarantha and the other High Lords, leaving you trapped outside of Velaris with the enemy... Requested by @sidthedollface2 here.

Warnings: 18+ only, description of wings and skin burning, misogyny, alludes to SA, let me know if anything was forgotten...

Disclaimer: I do not own SJM’s characters, only the ones I create for the purpose of this story. This is a work of fiction. I do not give permission to repost my work on any other platform or medium. Please be respectful.

Dividers from @saradika

You stood in your black and navy dress, feeling ridiculously out of place next to the maroons, dark greens, and golds of the Autumn Court. While Azriel, one of your best friends and your brother's Spymaster, escorted you to the Court, he quickly forgot his guard duty and winnowed away to find Mor.

"Mor's upset. I gotta go." Was his excuse, leaving you alone and outcast in the Forest House. According to Azriel, taking care of a safe female in Velaris (that he had puppy dog eyes for) was more important than guarding of the Lady of the Night Court in enemy territory. You were sure Rhys would be pissed if you decided to tell him about Azriel's disappearance.

You were starting to feel tired and bored as you stood on the wall, so you decided to leave. If you could get out of the Forest House bounds and cross the wards, you could winnow back to the town home. You really wanted to get out of this dress and take a nice bath. The Autumn chill wasn’t terrible, but you missed the summer breeze in your city.

You walked out of the court, watching as most of the Autumn Court guards paid you no attention. As you made your way out of the Forest House, you took in the fresh air. It was always too stuffy and crowded in ballrooms for you. You were glad to be outside. At least you could stretch your wings out here.

You tested your winnowing abilities as you made way through the wards. However, just as you made to winnow back home, your magic stuttered. You let out a small gasp, trying to reach down to that deep pool of darkness, but just a small puddle was left. You took another breath, trying to recall what you drank. You came up empty, literally, as you didn’t take any drink offered throughout the night.

You heard Rhys’s voice ring through your head. “Keep Velaris safe. Don’t tell anyone. Amarantha has taken our magic. Be careful. Protect the city. Protect each other.” And then he went silent. Your mind… you tried reaching out to him but nothing happened.

You started to panic, looking around to see if somehow Azriel came back for you. But from what you could tell, you were alone. You almost turned back to enter the Forest House. But, with Autumn being nothing short of an enemy, you decided to chance your luck with the forest in front of you. It was too wooded to take off from your current spot, so maybe you could find a clearing ahead.

Taking a deep breath, keeping calm, you started to walk north. If you could make it to Winter, maybe Kallias would allow you to cross into Night uninterrupted. Winter was normally your closest ally, and you quite liked the High Lord when you met him.

You walked for a few minutes, taking deep, calming breaths as you made your way deeper into the woods. Every sound sent a shiver down your spine, and you were just waiting to see that clearing of trees.

Instead, three males approached from the right. You took a deep breath, tucking in your wings as you pressed against a tree. The males appeared drunk, but stable. They weren’t stumbling just yet, but you could smell the alcohol from where you stood. Which meant they would catch your scent as soon as the wind turned.

You took another deep breath, walking forward. They couldn't touch a member of the Night Court. They would be butchered for it. You kept your head high as you continued to walk, only pausing when one of the males called out to you.

"Hey! What are you doing out in these woods?" Sentinels. That's the kind of clothing they wore. They were guards for the forest.

"I'm going home. Can't winnow." You said, tucking in your wings in hope they wouldn't see them in the shadows of the night. You tried to will the darkness to you as you normally would, as Rhys taught you to, but only a little bit of it budged. Amarantha took the High Lords powers... meaning each and every other power tied to their court would be restricted even more.

"Unfortunate. You look like you're a long way from home, as an Illyrian." He said, stalking over to you. It seemed they had no problem provoking a member of the Night Court.

"I am lady of the Night Court. I need to get to my people." You said.

"Ahh, the Night Court." Another one said in a mocking tone. "Lady? You look little more than a whore to me." He said and walked from behind his friend, backing you into a tree. "Shall we see what the Night Court thinks of us when we burn its lady's wings to ashes?" He asked, fire flickering on his finger tips.

Of course. They were in their home Court. No matter how little magic the High Lord had, the land would provide more of it. "My brother will incinerate you if you do."

"My brother." The male teased in a high pitched voice. "Who? Rhysand? That little bastard?" He asked, hand nearing your wing. "He won't even care when we're done with you." He said.

You tried to side step, but two sets of arms restrained you. And then came the pain.

You let out a blood curdling scream as hot, burning flames enveloped your wings. Along with the bark of the tree behind you cutting into your tendons. You fought as hard as you could, pulling away from the males as best you could. The males dug deeper, surely drawing blood from your arms but you didn't know as the fire tore through your wings. Over your pain and screams, you heard a belt unbuckle.

"Never fucked an Illyrian before. Let's see if what they say is true." The male in front of you said. You continued to struggle, but the pain of your wings burning was too much. The smell of the membrane and, gods... the skin of your back, was enough to make you pass out. But you stayed conscious, willed the little magic in you to cast a net of darkness around your wings. You prayed to the Mother that the darkness would snuff out just one tendril of the flames.

Your screams must have alerted the guards of the Forest House, because next thing you knew, a familiar voice was commanding the males to step away. You fell to the ground as the males released you. As quickly as the flames enveloped your wings, the were snuffed out. That didn't mean your wings were repaired. They were completely in ruins. Torn in almost every place, tendons burnt to a crisp that the most important ones had snapped. Your back was raw, blisters forming on the skin. Even the braid that cascaded down your back was burnt, leaving your hair singed and ragged against your shoulders.

You whimpered, the small ounces of your magic working to heal whatever it could.

"Lady (Y/N)," You heard that familiar voice again. You couldn't move. You couldn't look up. Who was talking to you? "It's Eris... we need to get you to a healer before this gets worse." The High Lord's heir said.

"Worse?" You rasped, your voice nearly inaudible because of your screams. You couldn't bring yourself to keep talking. Only thinking in your head as your body sagged further into the ground, nothing is worse than this.

Azriel's back seized in pain, a terrible, yet amazing feeling snapping in his gut.

Rhys had spoken to them mind to mind just minutes ago, telling them what happened. And leaving Amren in charge of them.

Azriel couldn't leave Velaris. Whatever magic Rhys threw out completely shut the wards and borders. He couldn't winnow to his High Lord. And more importantly, he couldn't winnow to you. He asked Mor to try and get out, but she was stuck as well. Rhys trapped them inside the city, effectively trapping you outside as well.

Only thing is, Rhys expected Azriel to be with you. To protect you and get you home safely from Autumn. Instead, he went to Mor because she was upset about something. And left you stranded.

He was just about to tell the others that they needed to find a way out when the pain and the snap hit. In a few blinks, his entire world shifted.

The others went silent as Azriel jerked where he stood, his wings fluttering behind him.

"Azriel?" Cassian asked, frowning as his brother jerked again.

Azriel took a few deep breaths as the pain died down, and then came to the horrible realization of what snapped in his gut.

"(Y/N)-" He paused and stared at his family. The ones that might just kill him when he said what he was about to. "(Y/N) is in the Autumn Court."

"What? I thought she came back with you?" Mor said.

"She's in the Autumn Court," Azriel stated again, ignoring Mor, "and she is my mate."

Part Two

A/N: Oof... this was so fun to write!

Main Masterlist

[deepwaterwritingprompts]

Big Deep Water News 🪼🪼🪼

As some of you might know, I write not just two sentence prompts, but full length manuscripts as well. Following beta sourced from the followers of this very blog, I’ve been querying the most recent, titled BORDERLINE, intermittently for about a year.

And, as of this week, I’ve officially signed with a literary agent and am now represented by Stephen Barbara at Inkwell Management.

Prompts will continue as I work on some edits (and my regular job) and dream the manuscript gets picked up and published. If you’re interested, here’s a link to the tag on my personal, and the description below the cut!

I’ll definitely be sharing any news that comes up on this topic. It’s pretty wild but here we are. Stay weird, keep writing, and love always,

- Lilia 💫

Lin O’Leary keeps her eyes closed. That’s how you survive in the town of Florida: small, slightly run down, and sitting right on a rip in reality. Known to locals as ‘the borderline’, all anyone knows for sure is that it ate town darling Momo Kasahara six years ago, and is best left alone. Lin, a high school dropout now working at the world’s weirdest corner store, tries not to dwell on the girl she might have loved if she’d had the chance. No real friends or future, she accepts midnight shifts, saves her pennies, and ignores the faceless entity seeking instant oatmeal. 

When a grown up Momo appears one night like a ghost in the snack aisle, everything changes. Lin is sure that finding her will cure the strange gloom that’s been hanging over her and her town for so long. Remaining twin Bo Kasahara just wants his family whole again, and touring paranormal vlogger Julien True sees his chance to shoot the pilot episode of his dreams. Together the three of them must learn how to cross the borderline, unraveling the terrible secrets of Florida one by one until their rescue mission is successful. Because Momo is not a ghost at all. 

Momo Kasahara is impossible to find and furious about it. Her hometown is an otherworldly shadow, her mind is definitely going, and her only neighbors treat her with eldritch indifference…most of the time. Stuck somewhere just outside of existence, she knows she must save herself soon, before she forgets what it means to be human.

[imsuperhungry]

4 𝙖𝙢

ᴇɴᴛʀʏ 003

(yandere until dawn)

WARNINGS: Yandere Themes, Bad Descriptions

WORD COUNT: 1654

"all the girls are girling!"

(9:12 𝖯𝖬, 𝖳𝖧𝖤 𝖢𝖠𝖡𝖨𝖭)

After a few more minutes of holding Josh and reassuring him that I would be fine with Mike and Jess, he finally released his grip. His reluctance was clear, but I could sense him slowly letting go. With a heavy sigh, he allowed me to step away from the basement, the lingering weight of his concern still in the air as I moved toward the light outside.

When I reached the main floor of the cabin, I found everyone there except for Emily and Matthew. They were all gathered in their own groups, engaged in conversation, but the absence of the two left a noticeable gap in the group. I glanced around, wondering where they might be.

“Where are Em and Matt?” I asked, glancing around the room. A knot of concern formed in my stomach at the thought that Jess and Emily might have started another argument while I was gone. 

“Emily left her bag at one of the cable stations,” Chris said, stretched out on a vacant couch. “She went back to grab it and took Matt with her.”

I let out a sigh of relief; Emily was okay. Smiling, I turned to Chris and thanked him for the update. As I looked over at Mike and Jess, I noticed they were positioned by the door, clearly ready to leave as soon as I was. Their eagerness to leave was obvious in the way they looked at me.

I turned to everyone else to say my goodbyes, deciding to keep things brief since I’d be back soon. However, as I started to wrap things up, everybody except Jess and Mike began to hug me tightly, as if it might be the last time they’d see me. Their warmth and sincerity caught me off guard, making the moment feel more significant than I had anticipated.

After the long hug, I made my way to the door where Mike and Jess were waiting. As I turned to wave one last time to everyone, I reached for the handle, only to have my hand gently pushed aside. Mike was clearly determined to be a gentleman, insisting on opening the door for us.

With a soft “Sorry,” I stepped out into the snowy chaos, Jess sticking to my side like glue. As we began our walk, an awkward feeling settled in, making me feel like the third wheel on their date. I glanced at them, noticing the easy rapport between Mike and Jess, and I couldn't shake the sense that I was intruding on a moment meant for just the two of them.

I tried to stay quiet the entire way, hoping to give them space to flirt or enjoy each other's company. Instead, Jess took it upon herself to fill in the silence.

“Oh my gosh, _____, I totally forgot to show you!” Jess exclaimed, digging through her coat pocket. “While Mike and I were driving here, we passed this store filled with jewelry, so naturally, we had to check it out.” With a flourish, she held out her hand, revealing two stunning necklaces that sparkled in the dim moonlight.

Each necklace showcased a heart-shaped pendant: one in a soft, warm gold tone and the other in a cool, shiny silver. Both were complemented by fine, slender chains that enhanced their delicate appearance. The heart pendants featured intricately engraved borders, lending a thoughtful and personalized touch that made them even more special.

My mouth dropped open in awe as I continued to admire both necklaces. To say they were beautiful would be an understatement; they were undoubtedly the most stunning necklaces I had ever seen. The craftsmanship and detail captivated me, making it hard to look away.

“And wait, that’s not even the best part!” Jess exclaimed, her eyes sparkling with excitement. She picked up one of the necklaces and gently opened the heart, revealing that it was actually a locket.

I let out a giggle of delight; the necklaces were such an incredible gift. Overwhelmed with gratitude, I wrapped Jess in a warm hug, momentarily pausing our snowy walk.

I felt Mike tug at my hand and turned to find him staring at me with a playful grin. “Hey, I had to walk her all around the store to buy those,” he said, chuckling. “She dragged me through the aisles for almost an hour, completely dedicated to finding the ‘perfect one,’” he added, emphasizing the last part with exaggerated air quotes.

I understood the hint and opened my arms to embrace him. Jess wrapped her arms around my left side while Mike took my right. They were so close that I could catch the scent of Jess's perfume mingling with Mike's cologne.

Jess smelled of baby powder, with a hint of something sweet underneath. In contrast, Mike carried the scent I expected—woodsy and outdoorsy, evoking the fresh air of the wilderness.

Eventually, I had to let go, eager to resume our trek and find somewhere warm, as the cold was already biting at my skin. The chill in the air served as a reminder that we needed to keep moving, and I was determined to find a cozy refuge soon.

“We need to find a picture to put in these lockets,” Jess said, handing me the gold one with a bright smile. “It would be so cute to carry a little piece of us wherever I go.” As she spoke, she began fastening the silver locket around her neck, her excitement evident. 

I began to follow her lead, trying to fasten the gold locket around my neck, but once again, my hands were gently pushed aside. A larger hand reached in from behind me, softly taking the locket from my grasp.

“Don’t worry, kiddo,” Mike said with a grin i could hear, “Just keep walking.” As we continued to move forward, he expertly fastened the locket around my neck. The cold air made the heavy metal locket chill against my skin, causing me to shiver as it settled on my chest.

After a few more minutes of walking, we finally arrived at the guest cabin, where Mike and Jess had practically been banished to by Josh.

I said my goodbyes at the cabin, but, of course, I was yanked into yet another bone-crushing hug, sandwiched between Mike and Jess. They invited me to stay with them, but I politely declined, aware that Emily—or anyone else in the group—wouldn't be thrilled with that idea. I appreciated their warmth, but I knew it was best to keep the peace among everyone.

As I began my walk back to the main cabin alone, a horrible gut feeling nagged at me, suggesting something was wrong. I couldn't pinpoint the source of my unease, but it was unsettling enough to quicken my pace. The desire for company grew stronger with each step, urging me to reach the warmth of the main cabin as quickly as possible.

I guess you only truly appreciate how cold a snowstorm can be when you're alone; the chill felt even more intense in the solitude. I shoved my hands deep into my pockets and started to bolt toward the cabin, urgency pushing me to move faster than just a walk.

Reaching the cabin in just a few moments, I quickly opened the door and shut it behind me as I stepped inside. The warmth from the fire Josh had lit earlier enveloped me, instantly lifting my spirits and bringing a smile to my face.

The cabin was empty, a clear sign that everyone had gone off to do their own things. I stood there for a moment, basking in the warmth, genuinely feeling better than I had in a long time. But then, I heard the floorboards begin to creak, breaking the silence and making my heart skip a beat.

I froze in fear, silently praying to whatever was above that a stray rabbit had somehow snuck in. Despite my apprehension, I slowly ventured toward the source of the creaking, taking cautious steps with short strides and even shorter breaths. I couldn’t quite understand why I was so scared, but an unsettling feeling gripped me as I approached, heightening my senses and making every sound feel amplified in the quiet cabin.

I scanned the area, finding nothing out of the ordinary. The three couches sat neatly arranged, the low-hanging chandelier, and the fireplace crackled reassuringly—all seemed perfectly normal. Yet, despite the familiar surroundings, a sense of unease lingered in the air, making me second-guess the tranquility of the space.

And then it happened: a loud "BOO!" echoed behind me, and I let out the loudest scream I had in ages. The sound rang out, leaving my throat feeling raw from the sudden burst of terror, and I instinctively slammed my eyes shut, my heart racing.

Then I heard that same familiar, cackling laugh that I recognized from countless similar moments. It was a sound that brought both exasperation and relief, and I realized I should have seen it coming. A mix of annoyance and amusement washed over me as I opened my eyes and turned around, finding Chris hunched over, laughing.

I rolled my eyes and waited for Chris to finish his fit of laughter. I didn’t have the energy to yell at him; the long walk had really taken a toll on me. 

As his laughing died down, he began to sit and look at me, a look of regret, yet still amusement clear on his face. 

“Sorry, sorry!” he said, raising his hands in the air as if to surrender. “It’s just too fun seeing you scream like that. I was actually on the way to find a Ouija board.” A wide grin spread across his face, clearly relishing the moment.

I rolled my eyes once more and plopped down onto one of the couches, lethargy washing over me. My eyes shut as I curled into a ball, hoping to sneak in a quick nap.

I had no idea there were a pair of eyes watching my exchange with Chris, nor did I realize how angry their owner was.

[thephantomsdream]

At times, I want to smooch my own brain because last night I had the most fantastic dream. Start to finish. Hear me out:

Actor!Simon in a B99-like show. Actor!Johnny was his irl friend and the reason he ended as an actor himself, somehow. The director told Johnny of an idea he had about this scary giant that would barely talk, would put off people and intimidate them by just staring at them. It took the Scott 0.1 seconds to call his friend, a mechanic who fixed motorcycles and worked on his specifically, and also fit the description perfectly. (In any way, it all started with Johnny, who didn't understand boundaries at first, and Simon just ??? went with it, letting the man invite himself in his life, but whatever, they were buddies now. Also, Simon agreed because HE KNEW Johnny was a pain in the ass if he really wanted something.)

Soap and Gaz tried really hard in an episode to make someone confess. We're talking hours and hours spent in the interrogation room with no result, until at the very end Price, the Captain, congratulates them for cracking the case. He asks Johnny how he did it, and the man just shrugs. "All instinct, wha cannea say?" Skip to a scene where he drags Simon to the interrogation room, leaves him there with the suspect, locks the door behind them and said suspect immediately starts crying under Simon's cold death-stare.

Cue to you, another member of the cast, just there as a smaller role, appearing from time to time as the sweetheart receptionist. In real life, you applied to the gig because you were in need of some extra money, but did not expect to get it. In any way, it ended up being the best thing ever happening to you.

The whole cast and crew noticed it, the small smiles Simon sent you and how you'd give him pretty eyes all the time. It was all chemistry from the very start, although both of you kept it lowkey.

Anyway, some ideas ran around the writing crew to make the intimidating giant have some interesting interactions with you in the show. Fans went crazy, a battle of whom to ship started, and of course, Johnny and Simon were a ship, let's be real, throughout some others. Yet some fans started to see some patterns between your characters.

Show!Simon would always help you carry paperwork, the same Simon that glared a newbie out of the academy, or made Kyle write an apology letter because he bumped into him by accident and he had to read said apology out loud in front of the whole department. What I try to say is social interaction, going out of his way to help people and just being over-all nice wasn't Simon's deal. Most of the times.

You'd say you're heading home after the boys worked to find a burglar, and he'd casually drop that he'll take you since he's heading that way too. The same Simon that left Johnny stranded because he ate a burger in his old but very cherished Impala and the man left a ketchup streak on the seat, meaning nobody ever was allowed in his car anymore. But... you got offered a ride? Huh?

Show!You would be known for being sweet and always making fantastic food, like your signature cupcakes. Price would say he'd convince you to bake a whole tray for Simon if he did him a favor and of course Simon would agree immediately. A begrudgingly low "Deal" before he stormed out to do said favor.

But... he wasn't really a glutton. We're talking about the Show!Simon that had a one-way feud with a bakery because the owner made a slightly ignorant comment on their public Facebook, and it's been bothering him forever.

Johnny: Ye have Facebook, LT?

Simon: Course I fucking don't.

(Flashback to him opening FB posing as a granny, commenting shit on the bakery's page and the owner responding with "Dorothy, NOT AGAIN! I ALREADY APOLOGIZED! ON LIVE TV!" And then showing Simon snorting in front of the laptop, drinking a beer amused.)

But some attentive fans caught the Easter egg, a message popping up with a picture of a face very similar to yours. Or the interesting braided dark brown leather bracelet he had around his left wrist only seen when he lifted his arm to drink the beer. It had a single round gem on it. Funnily enough, while it looked like any dude-bro bracelet from afar, enough to not many anyone suspicious, he never seemed to take off his after that point. And one very dedicated fan spotted something. The color of the gem. It was very... peculiar...

Color spotted on your wrist too, throughout many episodes, where a pretty bracelet made of suspiciously similar round gems adorned it nicely. Huuuuh...

There were small little comments you both made, too.

The Captain handed you some documents and smiled amused.

Price: You got tan, sunshine. Enjoyed your vacation?

You: I adored Spain. Loved the small town idea, John, it was so relaxing.

+

Johnny: Hey, Lt., any place you'd move to after you retire?

Simon: Somewhere warm. Like Spain.

Johnny: ??? How come?

Simon: Tapas and vino tinto.

Johnny: (amused) Can ye even speak the language?

Simon: (dead-serious) Camarero, dos vinos tintos, gracias. (Waiter, two tinto wine glasses, thank you.)

Johnny: (baffled, stuttering questions)

Kyle: (behind Johnny, also baffled) Did he say "dos"? (Dos meaning two)

In the break room, you made an apple pie for the team and left it in the good care of Kyle and Simon comes in just as you were leaving.

You: Oh, Simon, good to see you!

And you both leave the break room, all while Kyle is seen trying to text and carry the pie, and immediately drops it as Johnny excitedly enters and spooks him. Meanwhile in the backround there's you handing Simon something out of your bag, oblivious to the pie brutality happening.

Show!Simon enters the break room again with a lunchbox and sits by the crime scene, looking down at the pie, then slowly up at a frozen Garrick and MacTavish. He proceeds to eat his food (later confirmed to be a Shepherd's pie) and ignore them as they freak out because Price LOVED apple pies, specially your pies.

Said later being:

Price: And what were you doing while they ruined my—... our pie?

Simon: Was eating.

Price: (visibly annoyed) That so?

Simon: (visibly smug) Had the best bloody Shepherd's pie ever.

Price: Enough. (Insert grumpy old man tantrum while he storms off to his office)

Why do I mention the Shepherd's Pie? Well, a season later, as the boys try to find out something, anything about The Ghost, Simon Riley, they finally have to beg him to tell them literally anything about himself. What they didn't know is that while he answers smugly that he likes Shepherd's Pies, a simple answer after SO MUCH begging, as you finish the series, you understand that Simon Riley gave these two idiots the most important information they needed to know.

In the later episodes, after a horrible beef with another police station with a dude called Graves, Simon and Kyle sit at a bar drinking, when two beautiful girls approach them. Kyle's all over the moon, meanwhile one of the girls tries to flirt with Simon but he immediately shuts down.

Simon: Imma head out, Garrick, need some food in me.

RandomPrettyGirl: How about I take you home and feed you good? Make you a nice roast, handsome.

Simon: Not interested. Got myself the perfect Shepherd's pie at home.

(And he leaves with a nod towards Kyle, leaving the woman stunned, but also Kyle himself. That's when it's speculated he finally understood.)

Price: What did you make there, sunshine? Smells delicious.

You: A pie. (You'd smirk at him as he leans over the counter, interested.) Not for you. This one has meat in it.

Price: Bloody hell, woman, I thought at this point you'd know I'd eat anything you make, even if it were off the floor.

You: Shame. Didn't make any for you. (You'd smile sweetly at him then giggle at seeing him deflate and be sad.) Oh, for the love of— John, go in your office, yours is already on a plate. (John then sprints and locks himself in his office. Indeed it was bloody fucking perfect.)

Or the many times Simon would be seen eating from the same lunch-box, a dark blue one with some intricate drawings on it, meanwhile someone spotted you in an episode sitting at your desk with a matching light blue one, same intricate designs on it too. The fandom was on fucking fire for that.

But what I truly believe is that Simon would just nonchalantly drop that you two are dating.

Anyone: What's your type?

Simon: My girlfriend.

Everyone: ??????

+

After hearing that, everyone (not really) started to speculate who this girlfriend is. It was mostly Johnny but Kyle was also curious, or more likely suspicious. The latter hasn't really caught Ghost with whom he suspected, and wanted confirmation too.

Johnny: (inspecting a crime scene, hopping over a dead body) Okay. Tall, red-head, always wears leather?

Simon: (rolls his eyes while scribbling in his note-book)

Johnny: (mutters butt-hurt how his good friend and Lt wouldn't trust him with the first woman he's ever mentioned)

(2 minute later)

Johnny: Alright! Is it someone I know?

Simon: (silently locking eyes with him, pausing what he does)

Johnny: (screetches) IT IS?! Wait. Is it— Ah, (dramatic pause, looking at the corpse) the wife murdered him.

Simon: Yes. (closes notebook and heads towards the door)

Johnny: Wait! Yes to what?

+

Kyle: (trying to act casual back at the station in front of a board filled with murder pictures and notes) So...

Simon: (ignores him while reading a document)

All he had to do was to say your name once and he got the Ghost looking at him straight into his soul, document in his hand forgotten. And it shows that Gaz had balls because he stared back into his eyes, big difference from the little shit he was at the beginning of series.

(2 minutes later)

RandomPoliceOfficer: Lieutenant Riley, sir? Someone is... asking for... what... is going on?

Cue to camera focusing on Simon and Kyle still having a staring contest.

+

Price: Good job today, boys.

Johnny: Night, Cap'.

Kyle: Evening, sir.

They both leave, bidding their goodbyes.

Simon: (curt nod towards his Captain)

Price: Tell the missus hello from me. (And of course, he has to smile amused at Simon, knowing what the others have been up to.)

Simon: Trying to get her to make you some food?

Price: Wouldn't kill, she's been starving me.

Simon: You're just mad I get to eat all of her food, that's it.

Price: Being cheeky towards your Captain? I could fire you right now, you know?

A rare moment of them chuckling alone before Simon also leaves the station to head home.

That was the begging of the end. Don't get me started with the ending. A whole episode dedicated to you two, one of the last of the whole series before the wrap-up. It all started the previous episode with Johnny getting a brick thrown at his window, startling him and his boyfriend up, only for him to realize the brick had a letter attached to it. After a whole moment of Johnny throwing tantrums in the whole department, in front of the whole team, and after a horrendous goose-chase that makes Johnny believe he has a stalker that has known him for years, sending him in specific crime scenes he's been at before (he's fucking loving it, we all know it), he finally finds an empty storage unit with a chair and a single card sitting on it. A wedding invitation. Simon's and your wedding.

And so it begins the next episode, with a small wedding and I don't even know what sort of minor but funny inconveniences they'd have, the wedding goes on, and both Show!Simon and Show!You kiss under a beautiful tree, just family and close friends there to applaud you.

What the public took some time to find out (as the news came out AFTER the ending) was that the actors, Simon and You, real you, married on that set too! The random props? Actual family and friends, plus the people on set. Only the director knew and was fully on board by then.

Seasons of seeing you two dumb lovebirds, kinda awkward giant introvert that froze anytime you were around and you, a dumbass with a giant crush that was obvious to everyone in your close vicinity, absolutely almost sicken everyone with how cute you were. The whole crushing gave the director the idea, and it solidified as years passed. It was going to be very subtle things (stuff that even Simon and you helped create) and it worked wonderfully. By the ending of the first season, you two were dating in real life, and by the end of the whole show, you surprised everyone after the final "Cut!" of the wedding episode (there's always a wedding episode, huh?) by telling everyone that you two are now officially married!

I hope I made you smile and if you have any other silly ideas about this AU, Imma be reading the comments!

Like Price and Nik being married, and Nik being a firefighter, leading to many jokes about it.

Kate would work as a lawyer or even a judge. ("My wife" expert.)

The station having a fat cat as a pet that lurks around and it once threw Simon's stuff on the floor. He then adopted a retired bomb-sniffing dog and brought her around every so often just to piss off the cat. (He has issues with literally anyone and anything, you CANNOT TELL ME he isn't a petty old man).

Johnny is hella smart but in an ADHD way. Man's a natural with defusing bombs too and I feel he'd carry this show.

Gaz is the puzzle guy, like genuinely smart-ass about it too. Also a true crime watcher. He's at home in a silk robe watching serial killer documentaries.

[misicuwrites]

YOU ARE MY SUNSHINE

Summary: Aleksander always knew his soulmate had to be the fabled Sun Summoner. it was one of the last things he was absolutely certain of... BUT HE DIDN'T CONSIDER THIS

Warnings: single mother!reader, toddler!sun summoner, nonGrisha mother!reader, mentions of brother and father loss, AFAB!reader, no real physical descriptions, nothing else really just stupid tooth rotting fluff with maybe a little hurt/comfort

A/N: this was originally posted on my old account of the same url feel free to like again or if youd rather here is the ao3 link.

The squealing seemed to echo down the long hallway and no matter how they may have all tried, servants and Grisha alike had to smile. It wasn't often laughter was heard anywhere in Little Palace and no one giggled quite like their newest little addition. Aleksander had spent so long firm in his knowing that one day he would find his Sun Summoner. Maybe longer believing with body and soul that such a Grisha had to be his soulmate. The one he was destined to love and to love him. His equal. His much awaited balance.

Funny how he could have been so right... AND SO HILARIOUSLY WRONG.

Your son's fits of laughter never stopped making you laugh along, even if it all came from his constant squirming and splashing. It didn't matter to you. Never had honestly. You were just so relieved he was safe and somewhere he could grow and learn and remain safe. Months of traveling to Little Palace constantly changing your names and appearances best you could, hiding from busier borders and towns, avoiding strangers and stealing-- your son's wet hands started patting your cheeks seeing your distraction. Lifting your hands to his you smiled sweetly at his warbled concern,

"Mama where go?" His large eyes were so much like his uncle's and the thought broke your heart and made it hum. Your brother had certainly been killed by the time you reached Little Palace, your father too most likely. Brushing the thin wisps of damp hair from your son's forehead you shook your head subtly.

"No where, my love," you promised him kissing his head as started playing once more. The water remained warm thanks to your son's unique ability and the more he laughed and played, the more golden his pale skin seemed to become. Sitting back from the large tub you let him play aware of a tall unmoving figure just behind you in the doorway. Observing quietly as he always did. You were getting used to that too, his hovering, but it came slowly. "Something you need, General?"

Aleksander blinked when you addressed him; voice thick and warm honey but he still heard that sadness underneath. That inescapable exhaustion that came from over worrying. Figuring he was caught and so there wasn't much use staying put, Aleksander slowly stepped into the wash room still watching the young boy play. The Grisha General frowned curiously, "Is he drowning the lambs?" You smiled amused but didn't reply right away. The boy continued playing somewhere possessed by his game seeming blissfully unaware Aleksander had even joined them. How wonderful, he thought, to be able to shut out the world.

"They're goats, I think," you informed him biting your lip as the man feigned a look of realization. He looked years younger when he wasn't paying his expressions any mind. Allowed his eyes and face to openly express what you were learning he spent most of his time hiding. Controlling. Carefully crafting to the moment and his needs.

"Oh my apologies to the goats--"

"Oh no, he's actually not at all fond of the beasts," you interjected with dramatic harshness, "Devils, really." Aleksander squinted at you suspiciously but the smile was getting harder and harder for him to keep at bay. Your airy little giggle made his heart clench painfully. Something he hadn't felt for far too long. A warmth and comfort sinking into him every time he fell under your smile. Swallowing thickly, he tore his eyes from you with a subtle throat clearing,

"Right of course. Beastly creatures... goats..." Aleksander deadpanned frowning uncertainly at the toddler purposefully holding his goat-shaped toys under the water with the utmost look of concentration. It would have been frightening on any adult but the boy's pudgy cheeks and puckered lips made him ridiculously cute. Joining you at the bath side, the Darkling propped his arms on his spread knees thoughtfully. Although he normally would always be straight-backed and as tall as possible, he found he liked being a bit more comfortable around you. Not wanting to intimidate you or seem overpowering. After all, he knew what you had gone through, and lost, to bring your son to him. "Was his father a goat?" Aleksander teased dryly only breathing when he heard your snorted laughter. As vulgar and crude a joke as it may have been to anyone else you had a wonderful sense of humor and he was learning quickly how much he loved hearing you laugh. Especially when he said something "crass." Eyes alight with your amusement you were quick to smart back,

"No-- an ass." It was Aleksander who choked on a loud laugh that time, nose scrunching as he bit back his grin. You wouldn't ever say things about your son's father in front of your boy but that man had never been interested in either of you.. not until it became known that the little boy with silvery hair and his uncle's bright eyes was actually the Sun Summoner. A mythical Saint before he was old enough to walk.. that caught the attention of all the wrong people including That Man. Aleksander noticed your eyes drift and the light dim in them for a moment but he wasn't sure what to say at first.

"You told me he hadn't been tested," he decided to redirect and you nodded thankful, "he's too young even now. I don't think anyone would have thought to even suggest it.. how did you know?" His dark eyes looked back to you but you were smiling at your son. He was singing then. A little lullaby hid grandfather always rumbled to your belly as well as you and your brother. You could almost hear your father's voice under the little one's. Distractedly, as you thought about Aleksander's question, your hand fell to your flatter stomach even though it was empty and no longer needing protecting.

"I think I always knew," you explained vaguely; considering your words carefully, "I was always warm. Sometimes too warm," you giggled fondly, "I would sleep in the snow some nights just for relief." Aleksander smiled understanding. He never had a child but it made sense to him that any baby able to call on the sun would tend to run a bit warmer than most. He kept watching you, though, captivated by the way you were glowing. The way you were lighting up with a life and glow all your own. No Summoning needed. The way you talked about the little boy had Aleksander's expression softening. Something close to awe and mixed with a sort of jealousy. Of you or your son he wasn't sure. Baghra had never spoke of him with such pride and love. Actually, he often felt like his mother avoided talking about him as much as she did to him. Many of his Grisha were the same. Lost family or were abandoned by them and here you were; risking life and limb for your son-- and it wasn't just you but your family. Your father and brother had stayed behind giving you the time needed to escape. What a love like that must feel like...

"General?" your voice caught him so off guard he wasn't able to stop himself,

"Ale--." Your eyes caught his and his breath caught a moment. How beautiful you looked in that moment. Gaze soft but curious; glossed lightly with concern hearing the apprehension he foolishly thought he could conceal from you. He was lost in you and he had known so the moment he met you-- small as you were shielding your son from four powerful Grisha daring to threaten them if Aleksander did not meet with you. You with your tiny bread knife ready to take the whole of Little Palace to war if needed. That devotion. That unyielding love and shameless need to protect yours? Aleksander had always wanted that. No. He had always wanted to share that. With someone. Someone special. ".. I'd like you to have my name. My-- My real name.. not the one I gave myself." Your brows pinched in slight confusion but he knew you understood the weight of this moment. Knowing something so intimate had your heart hammering in its cage. Stomach fluttering pleasantly as he gave an almost nervous smile. Youthful. Hopeful. Nodding softly and gently taking his hand, you gave the man a smile hearing the stutter in his breath the moment you touched him. A shudder seemed to wrack through him but he caught himself quickly. "My name--," he laughed bashfully looking away. Why did it feel like a proposal? He had said his name before. Baghra scolded him with it just that morning! Sensing his hesitation, you gave his hand a squeeze.

"You can share it if you like," she offered softly, "or keep it safe with you a bit longer. But-- I would carry any name or weight you ask of me. I owe you so much more and-- I want to offer you what I can. I can't really fight," you teased and Aleksander smiled boyishly now able to look at you again, "at least not with guns or swords or-- Shadows," his smile widened and warmed his cheeks to a rosy pink, "but I will fight the way I know how. Behind the scenes.. here," you looked to your place at his side and then to your son now staring at you two with just his eyes over the edge of the tub. Large and in wonder making Aleksander and you both chuckle at the way he thought he was hiding.

"At my side, then?" Aleksander cautioned glancing to your joined hands thoughtfully as you hummed affirmatively. He didn't hesitate again and looked to you waiting for your gazes to meet before he breathed his name, "Aleksander. My name is Aleksander." Your smile would follow Aleksander into every dream and thought he would ever have from that moment until his last and his entire being seemed to quake as you reverently repeated,

"Aleksander." Suddenly the room lit up in a shimmering, swirling glow of golds and blues and iridescent whites as the little boy in the bathtub grinned over the edge. His eyes shone the same brilliant shades as the light he gave off. His joy and happiness with the whole exchange evident as he giggled cheekily. Like he knew something neither adult did. You shook your head at your son as he gave you that impish little grin wiggling further into his bubbles. Turning to Aleksander you caught him staring at you with the warmest brown eyes you had ever seen. No longer pools of bottomless black and unreadable. You smiled at him hand warm and confident as you cradled his in your lap. Without hesitating and your eyes locked with his, you lifted the Darkling's knuckles to your soft lips and kissed them lovingly. Aleksander's heart stopped.

Saints help him.

[potatomountain]

Chapter Five

📍pairing: detective ateez ot8 x detective reader

📍word count: 3.5k

📍network: @pirateeznet

📍Warnings: (TBD)

📍Beta readers (and sole motivation): @flurrys-creativity , @candypop1611 and @daesukiii

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As an apology, and to give you a little break, Hongjoong had sent you out with San to grab food for everyone- yourself included. San changed out of the bloody shirt into a black button up after he let Seonghwa finish bandaging him up. They let you pick the place and you offered the deli down the street you had been going to. San took their orders and walked with you, encouraging you to rant about the others and he listened, giving you his full attention. You had been apprehensive about it at first, but a part of you wanted to lean on him.

He had come to your figurative rescue earlier, knocking on the door and apologizing for them. He managed to coax you out, and when you opened the door he had been sweet, joking about beating up the others on your behalf and that he could get away with it. Plus, you needed an ally, even if it was just partially.

You didn’t understand why San wasn’t hostile to you from the start like the others, why he sought you out to comfort you and why now he was listening so intently… but you liked it. You didn’t trust him of course, but you enjoyed his company none-the-less. Arriving at the deli he gave everyone’s order and looked at you expectantly.

“I still have my food at the office.” You were just thankful for the excuse to come back out.

“It's probably cold by now. Get something. It's on the Captain's card so don't worry about the price.” He smirked, showing off the card between two of his fingers. “Come on, make it hurt.”

Grinning, he did have a point. You ordered more food than you could eat but San encouraged you by saying he could hide the rotting food in one of the other's things. The childish prank idea had you giddy.

The walk back he insisted on carrying all the food and some of the drinks, leaving you with one carrier and your own food. He didn't struggle with it, continued talking as if you two had been working together for awhile. It was almost alarming how easily you got swept up into his charm.

“See I'd bet Jongho would just flip his shit, desk too, if he found a moldy mass just hiding in his back drawer.  Either him or Mingi would have the best reactions.”

“What about Yeosang?” You asked, amused by his descriptions of how each of them would react.

San shrugged. “He keeps himself locked in his work room, it would be hard to sneak it in there. Captain would also be a good idea as his office is usually left a mess but you would have to hide it well enough that Hwa wouldn't find it while cleaning. If he did- well he'd just blame the Captain.”

You tried to picture an argument between the two over a moldy forgotten sandwich, bringing a smile back to your face once more. “Now that sounds even more interesting. And you said Yunho would be the least reactive?”

“Mhmm, not much actually pisses him off. He'd probably just throw it away when he saw it and forget about it in minutes.”

“I see…” He had appeared to be the friendlier of them, or well least angry. Despite his teasing and condescending interactions, he had talked to you the most. “The amount of testosterone between all of you is absolutely infuriating, you know.”

“Yeah- I know. If circumstances were different I wouldn't be surprised if they had a bet going of who would fuck you first.” He chuckled dryly, the building in view.

You made a disgusted face at that. “UGH, men.”

He was still laughing when you two entered through the front. You set your food and drink down first before following San to the back, your now good mood getting more tense with each step.

You wanted to believe things were resolved- wanting to believe there was no more hostility- but they attempted a truce before and that turned into the argument earlier. So as you followed San to the nearest desk and set everything down, you were visibly on edge.

“I'm going to go eat now…” You told San, not bothering to look at anyone else that might be in the room. 

San reached out and grabbed your wrist gently, eyes searching your expression. “You sure you don't want to eat with us?” 

Shaking your head you pulled away. “No thanks, I'm not going to push my luck. I've had enough testosterone today.” With a heavy sigh you turned to head back to your meal- only to run into a chest. “Ou-”

“Sorry, figured you would be more on your toes.” Seonghwa grabbed your forearms to steady you, the hint of a smirk on his lips.

You narrowed your eyes in response. “Forgive me for not being more on edge.”

His expression fell, as did his hands. “That wasn't- it wasn't a jab, I'm sorry.” He looked you over, standing in your way to keep you from leaving. “Captain asked if we could join you to eat? He wants to have a chat.”

Stiffening a bit, you knew it was an order and not a request. “Do I- fine, I'll be at my desk.” You bit off your defensive retort and relented defeat, making your way around him with a heavy sigh.

You were much more mentally exhausted than you had believed, your temples beginning to throb as you made your way back to your desk. You were given a moment to sit down and collect your thoughts before the two of them joined you. Seonghwa stood on the other side of your desk while Hongjoong sat down right next to you- he had dragged a stool back and plopped it down right next to you.

The difference between the two was almost comical: Seonghwa keeping his distance but a watchful eye while Hongjoong saddled up close without a care in the world as he set up his lunch and dug in without a word.

“Make yourself comfortable I guess.” You mumbled, turning to your meal.

Hongjoong let out a pleased hum, cheeks full of food as he gave you both a thumbs up. Seonghwa replied with a scowl. “I guess I’ll do the talking.”

You just shrugged, focusing on your food just as Hongjoong was.

“For starters, we’ll be increasing your access to our files. We’ll be assigning you the Green Vipers which San is the most familiar with. We want you to familiarize yourself with all the information we have available and run it all by San. When he believes you’re ready, we’ll pull you fully on the case.” Seonghwa sipped on his drink, which you believed was some strawberry type if the pink coloring was anything to go by. You were still trying to wrap your head around the news that they were not only giving you access but letting you work a case. “What’s the catch?”

Hongjoong mumbled something with his mouth full of food before he was met with a glare from Seonghwa. He swallowed and then repeated himself. “Yeosang needs to install a security program on your laptop, and this is technically a test. The first time you do something to jeopardize the mission- you’re off of it and stuck at this desk with nothing to do until we can transfer you out.” He chased the food with his drink before turning to you fully. “Do well, and we’ll start you in the field where the real work happens here.”

It was hard to clamp down on the excitement that surged through you, well aware your eyes and posture lit up at the news.

“You're not just yanking my chain? I can stay?” You looked between the two, Hongjoong grinning with amusement while Seonghwa had a frown on his face but nodded. “Thank you!”

“Don't thank us yet, you have a lot to prove.” Seonghwa warned, finally digging into his food. “And we aren't going easy on you.”

“I told you I like the challenge.” You pointed at him, then looked at them each. “I know you have your reasons for not trusting me, a lot of the work you do is secretive and it's years of progress. I don't plan on undoing that, I have an idea of how bad these mafia groups are.” Some of the articles you had found during your solo research had been stomach churning. 

Hongjoong paused in his eating, nodding. “Definitely a firecracker, but I like that.”

“Captain, please don't flirt with the newbie.”

“Why not? Flirting is harmless.”

You rolled your eyes but bit back a smirk. “You're the smallest one here, I'll pass.”

“Oh? Size matters to you? I thought you liked a challenge.”

Now you did smirk. “Really? And you're a challenge?”

“I'm good at all positions, so you tell me.”

“Oh my God you two.” Pinching the bridge of his nose, Seonghwa shook his head. “I don't need this, I'm barely holding this unit together as is- can we not chase tail?”

Hongjoong pouted out his pretty lips, batting his lashes at Seonghwa. “Why not? All work and no play makes Captain a dull boy.”

“Talk about an old married couple damn.” You laughed, grinning at the two of them.

The glare they each gave you was identical. “We aren't.”

“Mhmm sure.”

“Back to the point-” Hongjoong started.

“There was no point, drop it.”

“No point yet, don't ruin my fun Hwa.”

“Please-” 

You decided to let the two bicker, watching them as you ate. This was a stark contrast to the Vice-Captain you had met before, a good portion of his icy demeanor had melted with his Captain’s partial approval. Despite his disapproving view of the Captain's current behavior, you believed that his loyalty was unbreakable.

You thought you had that once. With that thought entering your mind, you set your drink down and cleared your throat. “Was there anything else the two of you needed?”

They stopped mid bicker and turned to you, noticing your drop in mood. Seonghwa straightened, back to business. “No, I'll inform Yeosang and San to come over so you can get started on that. You can head home when San says and we'll see you Monday.” Gathering up his things he moved around the desk. “Come on Captain.” Like a mother he started picking up the mess his Captain made.

Hongjoong didn't move though, instead fixing you with an intense stare. “I do have one question actually-”

“I'll see if I can answer it.”

Hongjoong stood when nudged, instead holding up the picture of your old unit Christmas party. “Which one were you dating or sleeping with?”

First you had no idea when he had found the hidden photo as you had been right next to him the whole time. Second, his question filled you with so much fury that you surged to your feet. “The fuck?”

Hongjoong shrugged nonchalantly, setting it down. “Mmm so I was right-”

“No! None of them! They were my friends and colleagues- I didn't do anything with them.”

“Doesn't mean feelings didn't blossom.” As you glared he just grabbed the stool and moved to follow Seonghwa. “I'm not going to judge you for it, how hypocritical of me after I was clearly flirting? Relationships are something the team needs to know about, in or out of the Precinct.”

Your fire lowered to a simmer, taking a deep breath to calm yourself further. “Because they could get compromised?” You had to remember just how dangerous this unit was compared to your old one.

He blinked a few times before nodding, giving a thumbs up. “Yep, that's the reason. If it happens just let us know. Man, woman, multiple- we don't care but we do have to know.” 

“Multiple?” You squeaked out, flabbergasted as he just chuckled.

“Mhmm- we'll send San and Yeosang over, firecracker.” With the change in subject he left, leaving you too stunned to speak.

You didn't like him poking around in your personal life but you hadn't lied. Warily you picked up the picture, eyes scanning the familiar faces and softening on more than one. Multiple? That was something your old unit might have found shameful, one of many reasons your now hurt feelings were never verbalized.

That was in the past now, you just wanted to focus on the now and get through this. Stay a detective, feel like you were making a difference again, and do it right this time.

San came down the hall first, a smile on his face as he took Seonghwa's spot and leaned on the counter. “So I heard the news, you're my temporary partner?”

“Temporary?” You had fixed your desk in that short time and gathered your wits about you. 

He nodded. “Correction, more like you are under my wing. I think you'll do just fine but for starters, give me a run down of what you know.”

That you could do.

“The city is basically split in half by older, traditional Mafia and new gangs-” You started off, pulling your laptop open and looking for your notes. “The southern part of the city has always been smaller gangs, which I think the three big organizations profited off of their turf wars. That was until about a decade ago when things changed and the number of gangs lessened while their power grew. Now there are 3 major ones that, while they don't match the power of the bigger 3, they hold enough power in the city to be a threat.”

“You got all this on your own? Impressive.” He whistled appreciatively, looking over your notes. “And just from looking online?”

You shook your head. “I called in a few favors and asked some colleagues.”

“Alright let me quiz you- what are the names of the big 6?”

“The White Guardians, Red Wolves, and Golden Circle are the big 3; the others are Blue Goblins, Green Vipers, and finally the Black Pirates. They can usually be identified by some color or accessories while more important players get tattoos.” 

As if your early troubles were nonexistent, you were about to throw yourself into a tangent explaining each of them when Yeosang cleared his throat. Clenching your jaw, you just silently handed your laptop over before he asked.

“I can do it here.” Stepping behind the desk and effectively caging you in, he plugged in a flash drive and went right to work. Cornered on all sides, you pressed back into the corner to be further from Yeosang, still stinging from his earlier comments. 

“You were saying?” San urged as if sensing your distress.

Tearing your eyes off of Yeosang you looked back over to San. “The big 6- right. I can give you territorial layout as well as their main operations. It's just a rough outline, since I don't have access to your files yet, but it was the only start I could think of.”

Once more he whistled appreciatively, grinning to the point you could admire his dimples a bit more. “That's still impressive. We gave you a hostile work environment and limited resources and you deduced that much from this desk?”

You could feel the tips of your ears burning but paid no mind to it. “It's really just basic knowledge that any of the members of these gangs would know, you don't need to show praise for something so simple.”

“Mmm true. Well, enlighten me anyways. The White Guardians, what do you know?”

“They're the most secretive of the big 3, only mentioned by other gangs who had dealt with them. Not much is known by them but anytime one of their members or their sub-unit, The Silver Dogs, get in trouble with the law, everything seems to get wiped clean. All that's known for sure is their territory is the northwest where crime levels are low. I would suspect they mostly likely have law-” You stopped yourself, realizing you were just about to divulge too much information.

But San was watching you with intent, motioning for you to continue.

However when you were about to relent, the deep voice next to you reminded you that the two of you weren't alone. “They most likely have the largest amount of dirty law officials, cops, judges and congressmen in their pocket. Right?”

You looked over at him, nodding slowly. “I kept that out of my notes though…”

“I didn't have to read them to know. We assumed the same. They will be the hardest to take down- if we can at all.” He went back to your laptop, messing with some download screen with a quick moving bar under a bunch of code.

Your shoulders slumped at that admission. “If you can't completely eradicate the criminal organizations, what goal do you have?”

“Lessening it. Crime is never going to go away, there will always be people who play by their rules and corrupt others- our job is to prevent as much damage by those groups as possible and diminish what we can.” San's tone was softer than before, as if urging you to have some hope.

You wanted to. “I see-”

“Onto the next one- The Red Wolves.” He prompted.

Clearing your throat you went on another tangent. “The Red Wolves are Northeast along the river. Out of all the organizations they have the dirtiest hands and some of the most ruthless. Crimes of human trafficking, and prostitution rings as well as the most recorded crimes committed by minors and to minors. They have the biggest feud with the White Guardians who, according to some Red Wolves, have been interfering with their work for years now. They are also the only gang that doesn't go through the Black Pirates for access to transportation by water considering they have territory of half the river. What really makes them fierce is their hitman unit the Crimson hounds. Whatever their tactics, it's enough to keep the others from attempting to interfere.”

“Again- I'm really impressed. Now the last one, the Golden Circle.”

“Center city and the oldest of the three. Most likely composed of corporations that use the Golden Circle as their cover for illegal activities. Their main motivator seems to be profit by any means stemming two sub groups: The Pink Boas and Gray Bones. The Boas are a believed-to-be all female group that handles underground brothels and club life in downtown. The Gray Bones are their equivalent of the Hounds, their hitman group. Out of the three mafia families, this is the only one that's been hit by the newer gangs.”

“Oh? Why do you think that?”

“Territory massacre in the west between them and the Blue Goblins. The Goblins won,  gaining access to downtown enough to spread out their drug distribution. They are the most power hungry, even using minors. They have a lot of younger members, runaways and troubled kids from the slums, so they feel as if they have something to prove and nothing to lose.”

Yeosang slams your laptop shut suddenly, spooking you out of your rant that you might have been getting too passionate about. “How do you know?”

“Excuse me?”

“How have you gathered information like that? From this desk?” He was staring you down with his jaw clenched, leaving you perplexed.

You narrowed your eyes in response. “Because I remember quite a few of the names that came up- they were kids I had to arrest, that we had to charge and interrogate and send off to Juvie. So I knew some of them.” You crossed your arms over your chest. “Or did you forget that and just want to assume I'm involved?” The sneer came out from habit but it was too late to take back now. 

Yeosang sighed, pushing the laptop towards you. “I know your file inside and out; you're too impulsive for it. Although you act like that… like you have nothing to lose and everything to prove.”

You lifted a brow, stepping closer. “So what if I do? Do you think it makes me any less of a detective?”

“Of course we don't-”

“I wasn't asking you, San.” You winced as you said it. “Shit I'm-”

“No no it's okay.” San stood up straight, avoiding your eyes. 

“I'm done here so I'll be leaving.” Yeosang said instead, making a hasty retreat and leaving you with a bad taste in your mouth.

Swallowing hard, you leaned on the desk to try and capture his eyes with yours. “San? Are you pouting?”

“No-” He most definitely was. “Okay maybe. I don't know how they can stand it when you snap at them, it wounds me.” He put a hand over his chest, effectively lifting some of the tension.

“It was a reflex, I'm sorry.”

“Hmmm…. Apology accepted. Now, where were we?” He flashed a charming smile that disarmed you and had you scrambling for your train of thought. 

Already Yeosang was forgotten again and so were his words. At least for now.

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Crappy Character Analysis, part 11 (finale)

Alas, my ramblings have reached their end. We have the final voice: The Voice of the Hero. I saved him for last on purpose, since understanding the other voices is almost vital to understanding his character. If this is the first post of mine you see, do me a favor and check out the other parts first, so you can truly appreciate how special this character is.

part 1 (Broken) part 2 (Skeptic) part 3 (Cold)

part 4 (Paranoid) part 5 (Stubborn) part 6 (Contrarian)

part 7 (Smitten) part 8 (Opportunist) part 9 (Cheated)

part 10 (Hunted)

VOICE OF THE HERO

Hero is probably the most nuanced character in this entire game. He is the very first voice you get, and the only one to appear in every chapter of the game. He’s also far more complex than the single-minded voices that are also populating your subconscious. His first line is questioning whether or not you’re actually going to slay the Princess, yet if that’s what you decide to do, he goes along with it. He’s a lot quieter than most of the other voices, and allows you to make your own decisions. Once you start getting to Chapter 3’s, he fades into the background, only offering one or two lines when things start getting really out of hand. He seems mostly unable to exert the same control over your body that the other voices do, and is perfectly fine with going along for the ride. In his appearances, he acts as the voice of reason, trying to find the best option for everyone. In many cases, he tries to compromise, even when both the Narrator and Princess confirm that you’re going to have to make a choice eventually. I would make the argument that the Hero is the closest to an actual person than any other character.

Hero is simply someone who is trying his best. You get him the second you make a choice. He represents free will, and the natural feeling to question anything you’re told. He wants to do the right thing, and murdering a Princess is not in those bounds. However, he is incredibly loyal to you, the decider. He recognizes that all decisions come down to you. Even if you make a choice that Hero strongly dislikes, he still sticks by you, doing his best to spin something positive out of the results. His normalcy also adds a balance to the extreme personalities the other voices host. When Hero is surrounded by irrational voices, such as the Smitten or the Broken, he acts as a voice of reason (Example, telling Smitten that the two of you can’t be in love, since you just met). Around more grounded voices, such as the Skeptic or the Cold, Hero is more prone to panic (Example, him asking whether you can “put back” the Prisoner’s decapitated head). He is also incredibly courageous, not only staying strong in the course of the main game, but assisting you in the final confrontation with the Princess.

Even more important to the Hero’s character is that every subsequent voice comes from him. Each fragments off from the whole, and then takes that piece and grows it to an extreme. This is why the Hero has more nuance than the rest of the cast; he is a bunch of personality traits combined, rather than one or two. This is why there are times he shows empathy, or falls in love, or opts for violence. The Hero represents a person so well that he often echoes the thoughts of people playing the game. 

Finally, you can’t talk about Hero without mentioning the final cabin scene. He is one of the two voices to side with you if you are rude to them in every mirror scene. One of my favorite moments is when he offers to narrate the cabin for you, and if you agree, stumbles through a half-hearted description, meant more to try and cheer you up than actually paint an image. No matter what choice you make with the Princess, the Hero is loyal to the end, justifying your every action. The saddest part of the “Leave with Her” ending is leaving him behind, yet he understands that the two of you have a story to finish, and he knows that he has done his job. Still, if you leave with the harsh Princess, he still takes joy in her calling you “Hero”. The voice of the Hero is the most popular voice for a reason, and I hope I did him justice.

[profundcherrylady]

SINGLE DAD!SAE ITOSHI.

A/N: Finally writing about Sae's late wife because y'all have been begging me to (y'all: like 3 people). Honestly idk if I'm gonna make more parts of this one so sorry I can't think of anything else at the moment (and I have other themes I wanna write)

Warnings: Mentions of death (kinda explicit but not too much) and SOME angst, bc obviously he's gonna be sad. Lots of grieving (it all works out in the end trust 🙏)

Contents: Sae being a little careless and awkward lol, kid not knowing a single thing about keeping her thoughts to herself, some fluff but this is a weird mix of like three things at the same time including hurt/comfort. Implied fem!reader (usage of femenine pronouns for reader, reader being refered to as 'miss')

Description: After losing his daughter at the supermarket, y/n FINALLY makes and appearance and makes the tag "sae x reader" make sense for once.

At the vegetable section, you struggled to choose between the various options to bring home for dinner. It shouldn't be this hard, since you were all by yourself most of the time, but you couldn't decide what you wanted to eat. It was then when you felt a gentle tug on your coat that made you look down, little teary teal eyes meeting yours and almost making you smile at the adorable sight of this kid staring at you in confusion.

"Hey sweetheart, what's wrong? Where are your parents?" you took notice of the lack of adult supervision this child had, since all the other adults around seemed to be either alone or not in panic of having lost a kid.

The girl opened her mouth to speak but then paused (seemingly reconsidering her words) and then spoke again, "Hi, my name is Mao Itoshi. I can't find my papa right now, can you help me find him or get me to the 'nearesest' 'autohority'?

And your heart almost melted at the way she messed up her little speech (which you assumed was given by her father in case she got lost). And how could you say no to helping this little angel? "Aw, of course honey, let's get you to your dad." you took her small hand in yours, ensuring she wouldn't get lost again, and started walking around in hopes to find her father. She still seemed a little scared and confused but you managed to calmed her down with the assurance of finding her dad. "What does he look like?"

"Um... he's... super tall and super cool-looking." you chuckled at her answer. Of course she wouldn't give you an actual description.

"I mean, what's the color of his hair or his eyes. Does he have eyes like yours?"

"Yeah."

"And what's his name?"

"...Papa?" you laughed again.

"You know your dad's name isn't 'papa', right? He has an actual name."

"He does??? What is it?"

"I don't know." you giggled. "Don't worry, I'm sure we'll know when we find him."

"Mao!!" a short-breathed, panicked voice interrupted your little conversation, and it was then when you spotted Sae for the first time. You weren't particularly interested in football, but even then Sae's reputation as the country's favorite midfielder was hard to ignore. One would think he wouldn't be out in a public space like this, but here he was, a totally different face as what was shown in the media. He looked just like a regular father, relived to have found his child.

"Papa!" the child beamed at the sight of her dad, and she let herself be carried and hugged as soon as he reached her.

"What were you thinking wandering around like that? You're just so- I've told you a million times- You are in so much trouble, young lady, you- What did you think would happen if-" he took a moment to breathe. In moments like this one, gentle parenting was probably one of the hardest things Sae has ever done. He tried his best to not loose his cool and scream at her; that wouldn't solve anything. The important thing was that she was safe and sound. "...You are going to give me a heart attack one of these days. Something bad could've happened to you, you know? I'm just... glad you're okay." and it was then when Sae first took notice of you, standing awkwardly trying to not ruin the little family reunion.

"She helped me get to you, papa." he heard his daughter explain, and it made sense because he knew the little girl would probably still be crying for her dad if no one was there to help. So although he would've liked to avoid the extra social interaction, he figured the least he could do was say thank you.

"Thank you for helping her. I've told her to not wander around, especially in big supermarkets like this, but she just won't listen sometimes..." you chuckled once again, now more from embarrassment than amusement at her antics.

"That's okay. I know how kids can be."

"You got any?" he inquired, and you shook your head with another laugh (which Sae didn't understand because he asked seriously).

"Nah. I mean, they're nice, I'm not saying I wouldn't like any, but I don't have any kids at the moment. Just little siblings; they can be just as difficult."

"You don't have to tell me twice..." he scrunched his nose a little at the thought of Rin as a child, and how difficult he was to handle, which in retrospective made it easy to figure how he got along so well with his niece (lil bro was just as problematic)

"But your kid seems nice. I'm sure she's a good child."

"When she wants to be... but mostly yes, I try to make sure she grows up to be good."

"I'm pretty sure she will."

"Are you single, miss?" Sae turned his head at his child so fast he might've breaked his neck, but he didn't care about that, he was too busy being shocked.

"Mao, don't ask people things like that."

"Why not? She's so nice to me, I like her. And you're single too!"

"That doesn't mean you can ask her if she's single. You need to think before you speak a little more, god..." he turned to you again, "So sorry about her; seems like she hasn't learned social norms yet." (Isn't that his job to teach her? Lol.) "We'll be going now, thanks again." with the still complaining child on his arms, he walked away to his shortly abandoned shopping cart, making sure to NOT set her down this time so he could keep an eye on her.

"Papaaaaa."

"Don't throw a tantrum in here, please... what's going on now? What you did was wrong, you know?" he sighed. "I don't you didn't mean anything bad, but you can't just ask any woman who is nice if she's single and try to set her up with me."

"Why not?"

"It just isn't correct, okay? Why are you insisting so much on this?" she pouted, hiding her face on his shoulder on an attempt to not talk to him. Sae rolled his eyes at the sight as he continued pushing the shopping cart through the aisles, then spoke again. "Come on, tell me."

"I wanna do the mommy-daughter dance at school..."

"Oh..." that made it make sense. "I could do it with you; you don't have to set up strange women with me for a parent-daughter dance."

"It's a mommy-daughter dance! It's not the same... I'm the only one who doesn't have a mom and the teacher says it's okay but I know my classmates are gonna think I'm weird." he hummed, understanding her feelings. Of course, he hadn't gone through anything similar, but he could get how she could feel singled out if she showed up to a mother-daughter dance with her father. He really did wish there was something he could do to make her feel a little better.

"Well, sweetie, there's not much I can do... you know I'm happy to do the dance with you if you want." he felt her lower her voice a little as he got closer to the line infront of the check-out.

"I know..."

"Don't get so sad... you're not going to be left out, I promise. It's the same thing, I mean, what difference does it make? I'm still a parent, and you said your teacher said it was okay."

"She did..." Sae's attempts to cheer up his daughter were failing, so he went straight to the only fool-proof plan he's ever known to always work.

"You want me to buy you ice-cream?"

"Okay..." he smiled a little for her, hoping to coax her to do the same, and once he was close enough to the small ice-cream freezer next to the cash register he opened the lid to take one for the little girl (one he knew for sure that she loved, just to be safe). But as he was taking out his hand he took notice of your presence, again. You looked even more surprised than him, but your expression quickly changed at the sight of the sad child.

"Aw... it's you again." you said, "why the long face, little one?"

"Don't mind her, she's upset about something... rightfully." Sae responded before Mao could. "Can't do anything about it though."

"A mother-daughter dance."

"And... why is that difficult...? Does she not have a...?"

"No."

"Oh... I'm very sorry." he answered you straight to the point. He was used to people asking about his late wife but he never bothered talking about it. It just... still hurt. And it kind of hurt even more knowing he couldn't give his daughter the one thing she yearned for the most, even though everyday he tried his hardest to give her the best life possible. He did everything in his power, he fought and struggled and worked day-to-day to be both a father and a mother somehow but it still wasn't enough. She still missed her mom as much as he did and the thought of replacing that woman was... well, there's just a reason why Sae was out of the dating game after his wife's passing.

And now he was here, teary-eyed child on his arms and a woman he only met once that same day on the supermarket, when the possibly stupidest idea came up to his brain, and he made the stupidest decision of saying it out loud.

"Listen, I know we don't... know each other technically but my daughter seems to think you're nice and... could you go with her to that dance? She just... she doesn't want to feel left out." he was also kind of desperate. Like really, really desperate because if he wasn't he wouldn't be asking this to a supermarket stranger. "You don't have to if you don't want to, but I... can't seem to find a solution to this. She'll settle to go with me if I tell her but she'll be sad and... people won't know you aren't actually her mom. It'll just be one night."

You doubted for a moment, but when you looked at that sad little girl with her big eyes full of tears, how on earth were you supposed to say no?

"Okay, I'll do it. I don't mind."

"And don't get me wrong, okay? I'm not trying to... replace her mother or anything; it's just that one night." he warned, and you nodded. "Thank you."

He tried to be nonchalant about it, however it was hard to deny the strange feelings he had about the situation. He closed himself off after his wife passed away and he promised to not try and find her a replacement, alas not get married again. This was the mother of his only child and the one woman he could say he's ever loved; how could he just throw that away dating someone else after she died like that? It felt wrong, somehow.

When he got married it was "til dead do us apart" so, what now that it did? He couldn't move on, no matter how much he tried. Even when his wife was dead he was struggling to process that he was a widowed man; whatever interaction he had with any woman for some reason still felt like a betrayal of his marriage. Like cheating. He was cheating on his wife who was no longer even alive. His daughter was motherless and he was a little bit of a coward. Many people had told him it was the grieving process and that the feelings would pass with time but they didn't feel like they were. He still teared up a little whenever he remembered that day when the stupid rain caused a stupid car crash that his wife wasn't even involved in yet got unjustly affected from the aftermath of the crash. Or when he got home and remembered he was one person short of a family. Yes, he had a daughter and furthermore a family to come home to, yet he felt... oddly lonely.

Was that normal? Was he allowed to feel lonely? How could he when she still had that child waiting for him at home and looking up to him, making him drawings and giving him hugs whenever she felt sad?

Maybe it was because he spent so much time working, or because his daughter spent a lot of time at her preschool, that it almost felt like it was just him. That he really was lonely.

So, fast-forward to a few months later, imagine his surprise when (before he could even realize it) you were part of his daily routine? It had become so frequent for his daughter to ask for your presence at school events or things like do her hair or just play together for a while that in a very short amount of time he found himself calling you over every weekend, and maybe making a little conversation with you while you were there. Then hours would pass and it would become a little too late for you to go home, so he'd offer you spend the night, and later inquire if you had dinner yet to make sure he had made enough food. The morning would come and with the moon hiding to let the sun rise you'd be gone as well; quick farewells before you rushed back to your own routine and his daughter would inevitably ask how much was left to see you again.

Then he'd chuckle at her impatience, staring at the door you just left through for a brief second.

And he'd say 'soon'.

[fanfictiongirlie]

A Song of Sun and Snow - Chapter Three

Click here for Masterlist

Parings: Robb Stark x Baratheon Reader

Description: You and Robb Stark hated one another. Always had, always will. As the oldest daughter of Robert Baratheon, you had been engaged to Robb for as long as you could remember. He however had always thought of you as a southern bratty princess, and you had thought him as a arrogant jerk. You had reached your 18th name day a few months ago, and in a few weeks you'd be travelling to Winterfell to marry him.

Rating: Explicit (Eventually)

Words: 1,325

P.s: Just something I couldn't get out of my head. No use of Y/N. Only description of 'reader given: the fact that she doesn't look like Joff, Myrcella and Tommen (It's hinted she truly is Robert and Cersei's child) Not much though. Like one line. I wrote this in a different style to my usual style, using 2nd person. Hope it's okay. P.s there will be pregnancy in this, the 'reader' wants to have children. Also the ages are completely different in this fic then they are in the show/book.

You ran back into the castle, rushing to where you knew your family would be. The day room, your father and mother sat together, they didn't look like they were enjoying time together, but your younger siblings looked happy enough. You were red in the face and incredibly flustered. 

Everyone turned to you, they were surprised as your appearance since you had never looked anything but calm and controlled. 

"What happened?" Your father asked you, he slurred his words as he spoke. 

"I hate that man" You huffed pacing the floor "I do not want to marry that Stark boy!"

You family looked at you even more surprised, your mother seemed to be hiding her laughter, wretched woman... Your father looked angry, red in the face, granted he usually looked that way. 

"Why don't you wish to marry him?" Your father asked. 

"He is awful father, can't you find someone else for me to marry?" You begged. 

Your father studied your face, he looked red, angry, and mostly, fed up. This wasn't the first time you had begged to not be wed to Robb Stark, but it had been a long time since you last mentioned it. 

"He is the future Lord of Winterfell, daughter...It's an honourable arrangement between two houses, one I will not be breaking" You father spoke, his voice gruff. You knew there was no arguing, he'd never see it your way. 

"Yes father" You answer quietly. 

 Soon it was time for lunch, you joined your family and the Starks in the dining hall. The whole time you tried your best to not look at Robb. He had decided you looked gorgeous when you were pissed off at him. He spoke to you, trying to get your attention, his voice sounded friendly and innocent as he spoke. 

"You look lovely, princess"

"Thank you, Lord Stark" You answered, keeping to formalities in front of your family. He chuckled softly at your response. He leaned back in his chair, his eyes darting over your body again, he spoke in a low voice again, wanting nobody to hear him as he spoke to you. 

"You still look beautiful even when you're angry at me, princess"

"I'm always angry at you" You answer, causing him to chuckle quietly. 

"You know, I can be pleasant when I want to be. And seeing you like this, all angry, it almost makes me want to mess with you even more, princess"

You sigh unhappily, trying to concentrate on any other than him. You watched your younger siblings, all three of them, watched them eat happily at the table designated for the young ones. You'd miss them the most, even Joff, as horrid as he could be, was still your brother. You hoped little Tommen would remember you. 

"You can't ignore me forever, princess..."

"I can try" You whisper as he breaks you from your thoughts. He chuckled again, sounding low and throaty. His eyes kept roaming over your face, over your body. 

"You might try, princess, but you won't succeed..." He whispers. 

Finally once lunch was over you retreated back to your rooms, you'd be leaving in the morning for Winterfell, most of your belongings had been packed, along with a brand new wardrobe for the cold North. There was only the things left in your room to pack, small things you had collected over the years. 

Robb watched you as you left the room. He saw a golden opportunity and discreetly to follow you. He waited a few moments and travelled through the castle until he found your bedroom door. He knocked on the door. 

You didn't answer, wanting to be left alone, you'd assumed it was a random handmaid. They'd leave you alone soon enough. He knocked again, not hearing any response from inside, he spoke again, his voice firm and commanding. 

"Princess, open the door. I know you're in there" 

"You're not allowed in my rooms" You answer firmly. Robb couldn't help the smirk that came on his face. He moved closer to the door, still talking through the door, his voice was now lower. 

"And who's going to stop me if I decide to come in, princess?" 

"The king?" You answer smugly. 

"He won't be around to stop me, princess. Besides, I only want to come in to have a talk with you" 

"I'd prefer to be left alone" You answer. 

Robb almost growled in annoyance, no matter how pretty he found you, you still annoyed him. It felt normal to be annoyed at you, not these other feelings he had been feeling. But he tried to be nice, rather than tease you. 

"Princess, please...let me in.. I won't be long, I promise" 

"Lord Stark, leave me alone, I shall see you in the morning" You say sternly. He sighs in frustration. You were being so damn stubborn. 

"That's all the way tomorrow...I'd rather speak to you now princess. I promise, I'll be gone before you know it..."

You sigh deeply and open your door slightly. 

"I don't feel comfortable with you in my room, you can talk here" You say as you look up at him, his blue eyes sparkling even in the darkness of the hall. Robb smiled in victory. He tried to lean nonchalantly against the frame of the door. 

"I'm quite happy with that, as long as you're okay with me being right outside your room and anyone can walk by and hear our conversation" He said smugly. 

"What do you need?" You ask, rolling your eyes. He chuckled, he was just thinking about why he really sought you out. But he was distracted, by how gorgeous you looked when you were flustered and annoyed. How much he wanted to get his hands on your body again. He tried to stop himself thinking like that, but the thoughts still remained at the back of his mind. He spoke, trying to sound as calm and controlled as he could. 

"I just wanted to check on you, princess? We're starting our journey back to Winterfell tomorrow, and I wanted to see how you were feeling about it?" 

"Since when do you care about how I feel?" You answer, taken back by his question. You looked up into his eyes, seeing that he was sincere in his words. Robb felt a pang of hurt, he knew he had a habit of teasing you since he enjoyed rilling you up, but it hurt a little to think that you really thought he didn't care about you at all. 

"I care about how you feel, princess. I know you find it hard to believe that, but I do care. I just also like seeing you all annoyed and flustered" 

"You live to torment me" You quip up at him. 

"Can you blame me, princess?" He asks, that stupid smirk over his lips. "You're so cute when you're all worked up"

"If that's all, I'll be closing my door now" 

He had wanted to protest, to tell you to let him in, but he knew it would only cause more of an argument. As much as he wanted to come into your room with you, he had to resist the urge and just look at you instead. His eyes eyes roamed over your body, taking all of you in and imagining what you would look like on your wedding night. Beneath him. 

"Very well princess. Get some sleep, the ride to Winterfell will be rough and tiresome" 

You nodded and shut the door on him, retreating back to your room for the rest of the afternoon and evening until you went to sleep. Robb was left standing in the hallway, slightly annoyed that you had shut the door on him. He looked at the door, imagining you on the other side, and he wanted nothing more than to go through and join you in bed, hold you in his arms all damn night... 

"Gods, you're so infuriating"

Taglist:

@quinquinquincy @whatelsecouldgowrong

[strawberryya]

The art of seduction - part one

pairing: jeong yunho x reader

synopsis: Since she left you, it feels like your life has been turned upside down, and you're struggling to find your footing. He sees that, and he wants to help. Or maybe it's not as pure as that. Perhaps he's just looking for a new plaything — an artist to inspire, or someone to slowly destroy.

word count: 4.5k

genre/cw: angst, smut, suggestive, fantasy, thriller and/or romance, yandere themes, supernatural au, faery au, leanan sídhe!yunho, human!reader, they/them pronounces for reader, I tried my best to keep all descriptions gn as well - I welcome all feedback on this area ofc, grief and death depicted/mentioned, specific smut warnings will be listed in each part.

rating: 18+

a/n: this has been a big project for so many people this year, and I would like to thank all of the inspiring people in this collab for all the fantastic ideas that has been contributed to make all of these fics possible. it has been a journey writing this, but this fic is only the beginning of the even longer journey that yunho and our mc will be going on ;)

this is part one of my first fic for the wonderful collaboration thrill of the hunt, hosted by @cultofdionysusnet - check out the other exciting and thrilling stories on the official master list here!

the second part to this story will be found here once it's posted. if you wish to be tagged in the continuation you can dm me, send an ask, or comment on this post <3

network tagging: @svthub @cultofdionysusnet @k-labels @kvanity-main

“Oh, he’s the most wonderful man I’ve ever met, y/n! He’s perfect… I didn’t think anyone could be so perfect until he came into my life. He makes me feel like I’ll never need anything ever again… like he and I are enough forever. I need you to meet him someday soon! I wanna introduce you to him, I promise you’ll love him too!”

You never got the chance to meet him. The more you think about it, the more you regret not making more of an effort to do so. Your best friend Anna had been in love with someone, and you hadn’t even had the chance to meet the man she spoke so fondly of. 

“I haven’t been feeling very good lately, y/n… I’ve been to the doctors and they say there’s nothing wrong. They said it’s all in my head, that I should go talk to someone… y/n, do you also think I’m making myself sick?” 

She only got weaker after that. 

And he had seemingly fallen off the face of the earth after she became bedridden. 

She said he came to visit, but she wasn’t in her right mind in those final weeks. Nobody had signed in at the reception. Nobody had seen a beautiful man with dark brown hair that gleamed blood-red when the sun shone. During all that time when she was admitted into the psychological ward at the city’s second-largest hospital you and Anna’s mom were the only visitors. 

They said she was mad…

You had wondered a lot about who he might’ve been during those times when she had talked about him as if she had just spoken to him, but nobody had seen anyone in her room. Had he been a fraction of her imagination the entire time? Or had her mind created a lie based on a man who had left her before her illness took over her mind and body? 

When she passed he was the one piece of the puzzle that you couldn’t let go of. If you had tried harder to meet him, would her illness have been caught earlier? Could it have been found and treated before it took her life…?

You’ve been staying late at the studio lately, trying to get through your feelings about losing her through your art. The shadows in the room seem to close in on you at every chance they get, and you don’t fight them. Hugged by the darkness is somehow better than being left so completely alone. 

The brush strokes soothe you like nothing else is able to. Fizzling seas crash along the shore, a looming tree stands barren and alone, and her face appears in the dark clouds. 

The only things you know to be true are that: she is gone, you are in pain, and you can only paint this one single picture. The lonesome tree at the cliff, watching the storms and waves trying to pull the ground away from beneath the large oak tree. You paint it over and over again, day after day, and you haven’t even paid any mind to when other artists have come and gone through the studio. People painted right next to you, people posed on the podium in front of you, and you didn’t care about any of it. All that matters to you is that you have been left all alone. 

Your best friend has died, and you can’t even do the one thing you have been able to do your entire life ー paint. You had pursued your passion fiercely, not budging even as your parents pleaded with you to be reasonable and try “having a career worth having”, and let painting stay as a hobby. It was how you had met Anna. She was a dancer, and she had gotten into the same art college as you. Back then you had both been carefree young adults, simply trying your best to survive on your own for the first time in your lives. Now, she has left you, with the bittersweet taste of the last conversations you had had with her on your tongue. 

“He inspires me you know, I’m just a dancer anymore when he looks at me, I become the air itself.” 

You had smiled and nodded at her nonsense, she seemed to be dreaming of it. Her limbs were too weak to be of use, but she had the same smile on her lips as when she performed. You had tried your best not to be mad at her for only speaking of this man even as she lay dying in a hospital, dreaming of her passion was at least better than dreaming of him. The tears had stung your eyes as you held her hand before leaving her to her rambling. 

It has been a while since her funeral, and you have practically been living at the studio. Home doesn’t make you feel any better, so you sleep on the small pullout couch in the corner instead. It isn’t meant to be slept on and your back is sore from the many nights in a row you have spent on it. But the art studio is at least comforting you more than home. You have too many memories of Anna in your apartment. Here you can focus on your art. At least, that’s the idea. You have had no inspiration since her death. It’s strange, she hadn’t exactly been the reason you painted, but everything that happened still affected even that part of you. 

You had begun questioning if you should give it all up, move home to your parents for a few months, and go back to your waitress job until you had processed all of this. But could you give up on your passion? After years of struggling to pass courses and hustling on the side of your studies just to make it all work? What would Anna say if she knew…?

You aren’t sure how it happened, it might've been a dream. It’s barely been three weeks since Anna’s funeral and you woke up with the clearest picture of a man you had never met in your mind. 

He’s handsome, just like she had told you. He has gentle features, and dark, captivating eyes that catch hold of your mind and refuse to let go. You can’t seem to escape the image of the stranger you know in your bones is the same man Anna had known. 

Sometime after the day you had first seen him in your mind, after hours in front of your easel and a blank canvas, you finally force yourself to pick up the brush. This couldn’t be the end of pursuing the only career you had ever wanted. You need to get over it and paint something, other than that stubborn tree and the punishing sea. His features burn your eyelids, and you see him as you blink and dream of him as you sleep. You can’t escape the visions, so you make him real, tangible. You create a portrait of the man in your head. Watching the finished portrait once you put down the brush. 

You look at it until it gets dark again, staring into his eyes until you fall asleep on the couch in the corner. 

You wake up with a headache. You groan quietly since you neither have the energy nor the will to get up and take something for the throbbing pain stemming from the sides of your head. Before you could even summon the will to get up despite this, you almost jumped off the couch in surprise. There is another person in the room. You’re still in the corner of the room, so the stranger might’ve missed that you were even there, you reason. It looks like a man from behind. His short dark hair lay in a rather messy way against the back of his head. He’s turned away from you, watching the painting you had fallen asleep staring at. He’s tall, his shoulders are broad. You panic, because what did this man want, and why was he here in the middle of the night?

“Who are you?” you ask breathlessly, jumping up from the couch, trying to see if he’s someone you know in the dim light. Could he be another artist here to paint at an odd hour? You don’t recognize him, but you aren’t the best at remembering people, so you’re not sure if you should be screaming or apologizing for your hostile greeting. 

The man didn’t even flinch at the sound of your voice. He didn’t seem like a threat, but then again, something about him creeped you out. You ignore the fact that he also intrigued you, and try to catch his attention again. “Hey, I asked you a question.” In response, he simply raises a hand as if to shush you. 

This man hadn’t just broken into the studio late at night – he was also incredibly rude. The air around him is so still, so calm that it’s giving you chills. You want to see his face. If he was going to murder you, you want to have looked the fucker in the eye so you can, at least, curse his existence. You take a step forward, grabbing a long paintbrush from the drying rack. Maybe you can get his eye if you’re fast enough.

“So aggressive, little dove,” the man finally says. His voice is smooth and deep. It’s an attractive voice, at least your murderer has a nice voice, not that that makes this situation salvageable. You’re still prepared to stab him with the wooden brush in your hand. 

“Wouldn’t you be aggressive if you woke up to a stranger in your bedroom as well?” 

You had tried putting on a brave face, hoping that he wouldn’t notice how scared you were. He seemed to see through this facade easily though, chuckling at your attempt instead of turning around to face you. “Not your bedroom. I’ve been to your bedroom and this isn’t it. Also, not really a stranger, am I?” 

Your breath won’t calm down, and your heart is beating mercilessly in your chest. This man had been in your apartment? And you know him? What the hell is he talking about? “Are you some kind of stalker you fucking creep?” you wheeze out, taking a step away from him. 

You desperately wish for this to be some kind of nightmare. 

When he turns around you’re sure it is because there’s no way the man you see in front of you isn’t just a fiction of your imagination. Dark hair, streaks of red when the light from the window hits it. Perfect lips, and captivating eyes. It’s him. The man in your painting, alive right in front of you. Your grip on the brush tightens, the bristles folding backward from the pressure of your palm. The world began to spin, he wasn’t real, he couldn’t be real. You see the edges of your vision blur and his smile widens at the visible panic you were displaying. 

He was right, he isn’t a stranger. 

“I think you might’ve heard about me, little dove. She used to talk about you ー the talented artist she had met in college.”

It couldn’t be, you hear the blood rushing in your ears like thunder. “Who?” 

He smiled innocently, “Don’t you remember your friend? Anna, I think her name was.” 

No. It couldn’t be true. The brush fell from your hand as you fell to the ground. Your already sleep-deprived mind couldn’t handle the thought that maybe the man Anna had spoken about was real, and right in front of you. Knocking yourself unconscious was the only thing your body could do to stop your heart from giving out. 

Have you gone mad as well? Maybe this was your way of grieving? Should you go to the hospital?

The questions spun in your mind. He was gone when you woke up. But the long brush in your hand and the bruises on your knees and shoulder felt like substantial proof that you had not lost your mind. He had been here, you know it, but who would believe you if you told them? Who would even care?

You decide to let it go, instead, you force yourself to go back to your apartment. A change of clothes was needed and you know that the lady down the hallway will be worried after not having seen you for days yet again. She had been at Anna’s funeral, wondering how and why your roommate had passed so quickly at such a young age. You hadn’t known what to answer. You still didn’t have your own answers as to “how” or “why”. At least, none that you could share…

You had managed to shower and get into some clothes when your neighbor knocked on the door. 

“Hi, Auntie,” you greet her as she had insisted you do ever since you and Anna had first moved in. She’s older than any of your real aunts, but remarking on that had felt incredibly inappropriate, so you had both simply accepted your fate and begun calling her “Auntie”. 

"Darling!" How are you? I haven't seen you here in days! I was beginning to worry. You know, this was just how it was with Anna, I didn’t see her for days and then she would show up saying she had been busy practicing and dating and whatnot!”

You don’t respond, forcing a smile. She meant well, but when she insisted on bringing you some food you wanted to refuse her. She didn’t mind your protests, “Oh, dear child, you don’t even know how sunken your face looks. You need some of my home-cooked food to get your spirits back up!” 

In the end, your refrigerator was filled with casseroles and little boxes of different dishes, and a bitter feeling, knowing you wouldn’t be here to eat it. You left your apartment as swiftly as you had arrived, not wanting to stick around long enough to see the traces of a life lived – a life you didn’t feel belonged to you anymore. You brought what you could carry in your bag back to the studio. 

You fall asleep again, after hours of trying to create something, only creating more pain in your back from sitting on the wooden stool all afternoon instead. It’s not like you hadn’t tried your best to think about anything else besides him, you had actually tried your very best! But in the end, your mind kept wandering back to the dip of his lips, and the grin on his face as you fainted. You painted the outline of his lips, over and over again. 

You hated him. 

Would he come back?

He had mocked you with his words.

Why had you felt such a rush when he spoke?

You never wanted to see his perfect face ever again.

Why couldn’t you stop wishing to see him just one more time? 

You woke from a cool hand on your hair. Slowly and gently he patted your head until you opened your eyes. It was still dark out, and he was back. Leaning over your sleeping body, a large hand caressing the side of your head. You scream, and he smirks. He shushes you, and you push him away angrily. 

“What the fuck are you doing?!” you shout. 

“You wanted to see me again, I thought it best to wake you so your wishes could be fulfilled.” His voice coursed through you, giving you goosebumps again. “Don’t be angry with me, little dove.”

“I don’t want you here.”

“Don’t lie. It’s not polite,” he retorts as soon as the words leave your mouth. 

“I don’t care, I hate you. Leave me alone!” You bark out the words, tears stinging your eyes. You don’t know why you’re reacting so strongly to him. 

His tongue darts out to lick at his lips in annoyance. “Little dove,” he chirps menacingly, “Lie one more time and I won’t help you anymore.”

He terrifies you. He’s beautiful, but nothing about him feels true. He’s like those beautiful flowers forever trapped inside glass orbs. You wanted to protect the frozen beauty from getting the slightest scratch and smash it to pieces, all at once. 

“Help me…?”

The gentle smile on his lips came back when you revealed that he had managed to pique your interest. “Mm, I help people. Artists, especially… it’s an interest of mine, the arts.” He winked at you, which caught you off guard. 

“And you came here to help me?” 

He nodded, but you weren’t convinced. 

“Why? I didn’t ask for any help from you.”

He looked around the room, gaze wandering over the canvasses you had painted in the last couple of weeks, all depicting the shore and the dead tree. All except two. The portrait of him, and the sketches of his lips. 

“You did that?” You ask incredulously. His gaze snaps back to you sharply. 

“Of course. Didn’t it feel different? It felt like you had been inspired by something again, did it not?” His voice is honey in your ears, but the sticky feeling is making you want to flee for your life. You don’t. 

“Want me to prove it?”

You frown, “What do you mean prove it? Are you going to inspire me to paint something on the spot in the middle of the night?”

“Tell me you want it and I’ll make sure you feel inspired for the rest of your miserable human life, little dove.” 

His wording is so unnatural, you think for just a moment. You don’t trust him one bit, but perhaps this is the way to convince yourself that he is indeed just some creep that you need to get away from. You take a deep breath before answering, “I’ll agree if you tell me your name.”

The man stepped back, you had made him flinch. You don’t know why you made that exact demand. Maybe you had just really wanted to call him something other than “the one Anna spoke of” in your mind. It hurt each time you remembered her name.

“A name can be more powerful than you think, little dove,” his tone warned you of something. He seems on edge for the first time since you met him. 

You don’t budge, his reaction only makes you more sure that you need to follow your gut. “Tell me, and you can help me.”

He hesitated before seemingly giving in to some innate need that you didn’t understand yet. “Yunho. That’s one of my names… Use it with care, little dove.”

You turned his name around in your mind, tasting the sweet taste on your tongue as you said it out loud. “Yunho… Sure, help me find inspiration to paint again.”

The same excited and menacing grin he had worn the last time you spoke now grace his lips again, and you feel you have committed a horrible mistake. 

You look around the room, the sun is rising and casting long shadows from the easels placed around the podium. How has the entire night already passed you by? You have no memory of sleeping. You look at your hands, they are covered in paint. Why had you been so messy? You couldn’t remember right away. You know that you have painted. Yunho had kissed your hand, you can still remember the heat of his breath on your skin. Then you had picked up your brush. You hadn’t been frightened by the fact that you weren’t in control of your actions. After the weeks of forcing yourself to do the most basic human functions to stay alive, having something else move your hand in your stead was somehow freeing. 

When you look at the canvas your breath stops. It’s him, you have painted him again. He’s not completely like himself, however, he is just as captivating in the picture as he is in reality. You had managed to capture his beautiful features, from the way his cupid’s bow dips graciously on his lips, to the way his hair gleams blood red when light shines through it. But behind him is something new, something you have never seen belonging to a human before. Wings, almost translucent wings, appearing on the canvas as a shimmer of light blue and white, adorned with shimmering ruby gemstones. He looked magnificent. 

“Pretty,” you hear his voice whisper on your neck before you feel his soft lips press against your skin. You shiver, it feels good but you’re still in shock, watching the man who’s behind you on the canvas in front of you. 

“How is this possible?” you mumble.

“You were inspired,” he responds calmly, brushing your hair away from your face from behind. “Did you enjoy it?”

You have a feeling that the answer to that is yes, but you also know you shouldn’t reveal that. “I don’t remember.”

“I think you did… I know you did.” 

The way he seems to know everything, even the things you don’t, scares you a bit. But you might be addicted to the feeling of his touch, you’re addicted to what he can do to you, addicted to what he makes you feel deep inside. He has given you your passion back, he has helped you paint again, and you had enjoyed it this time. This shouldn’t be possible. Why does this man have so much power over you that he could help you paint as you had used to, for the first time since Anna’s passing? 

There’s no way he’s human, no human looked like he did. In the morning light, he was even more dashing, even more unreal. You want to smash his perfect exterior to pieces and see the flower inside rot as the air hits its delicate petals. 

“Go away. I don’t want this,” you choke out, pushing down the sobs that threaten to escape your throat. He kisses your neck again, but you don’t move. “I think I’ll die if I don’t end this Yunho. Please, just leave me alone.”

“It’s possible, but maybe you’ll be the one who makes it out alive.” His honey voice rang in your ears as the day began and his touch against your back disappeared. You cried yourself to sleep. You knew everything was wrong, Yunho was wrong. But there was nothing you could do about it anymore. 

Two days passed without so much as a glimpse of Yunho. The hours of the night when he didn’t come to see you had almost been enough to convince you that you had truly gone mad. But then, suddenly, there he was, as dashing as ever. Pretty eyes watching you stare at an empty easel. 

A chilling chuckle escaped him, nothing more. He stands and gazes upon your hopeless state for a while in silence. You will never get rid of him, you realize. You’re not upset about it. You can’t be upset. Nothing feels real anymore. 

Yunho circles you, a predator watching his prey. You don’t flinch under his gaze this time. When he leans his lean body against the stool next to yours you feel disgusted. You weren’t upset that he would never leave you alone, but you deserved to know why, at least. 

“What do you want from me?”

“Want?” He sounds almost offended. 

“You’re not here just because it’s fun to sit around and watch me paint all day.”

He didn’t give you an answer, he just smiled at you with that perfectly enchanting smile of his. He’s dangerous, his beauty is dangerous. He leans forward on the stool, his face now scarily close to yours. Will he kiss you…? You can feel Yunho’s breath, hot against your lips, his gaze burning as he stares into your eyes and flickers down to your mouth. Do you want him to kiss you…? 

What do you want from him?

You almost forget that he hasn’t given you an answer when he bends forward, his lips inches away from yours. This time you do flinch. Can he read your mind too? No, your eyes stare right back into his, a flash of maroon tints his irises an unnatural color before it disappears just as fast as it showed up. 

His thumb drags across the side of your cheek, a small smirk plays on Yunho’s deceptive lips. “I’ll make you a promise,” he whispers, “I promise to make sure you’re motivated to do what you love the most, for the rest of your life.”

His breath burns hot against your wet lips. You want to kiss him. “A promise…?” you exhale, mind not quite able to focus on his words, but they sound good to you right now. You swallow, eyes flickering to his perfectly shaped cupid bow, his rosy lips, and the tongue that teases behind his plump lips. “What… what would I have to do…?” 

“A clever dove, I knew you would ask the right questions.”

You didn’t truly understand though, too distracted by Yunho’s eyes mirroring your flickering gaze, teasingly watching the way your hands fiddled with the brush in your hand. 

“All you have to do in return is say that you agree, and I will fulfill all of your wishes.” His soothing hand moves around to the nape of your neck, his grip gentle but secure. 

Will he fulfill them all? 

Does it even matter? Almost anything would be good enough to accept right now, at least you can’t think of something that would be worse than walking through life as the zombie you had been since… Since Anna’s death. If you accept his proposal, will you find out what happened to her? 

“I agree.” 

Your stomach flips when plush lips are pressed against yours. It seems he had already begun living up to his word. At least he wasn’t playing a trick on you when it came to that part. His hands travel over your body, he knows exactly how to touch you the way you like it. Has he been watching you for a long time? Or is it something magical, like those shimmery wings you had imagined he had? You’re not sure, but knowing could wait until later. Right now you have a couple of needs. Needs that Yunho had promised to fulfill. His leg firmly presses open your legs, strong muscle relieving some of the intense pressure that had built up in your lower abdomen since the thought of having him in this way had sprouted in your mind. You need more. You close your eyes even tighter as you let the brush fall from your grip. Hands moving across Yunho’s perfect form without hesitation. 

The sound of the brush hitting the floor didn’t reach your ears. You were already lost to the world of humans. 

“Do you believe in fairies? I do. I think there are things we don’t know in this world. Magical things. If I could go there I would, I think it’s a beautiful place, nothing like Earth. I’d want to dance for them…”

Reblogging and commenting is highly appreciated!! Hearing what you thought is what makes writing and being here overall so much fun! Ty and ily 💕

[nerdieforpedro]

Her smile was worth it

Pero Tovar (modern AU) x plus size female reader (La jefa)

Word Count: 1882

Warnings: DARK FIC, mobs and their enforcers, mentions of general violence and graphic violence, mentions and descriptions of torture, descriptions of injuries, solving problems Tovar style, comfort food and tea

Summary: Pero Tovar only has a few people he chooses to interact with willingly. The bookstore owner is one of them. Someone made a very stupid mistake, Tovar will handle it and still have his tea.

Notes: This was written for @iamasaddie ‘s writing challenge 2.0. My color was Mob Enforcer and the prompt was “Hurt/Comfort” and “Who did this to you?” We're longer than a Drabble again, we dribbled quite a bit. Such is Nerdie.

I may have leaned too hard into the ‘hurt portion’ but we’ll see. 👀

Main Masterlist/ Pero Tovar Masterlist/ Writing Challenges

The only good thing about doing collections, was that most of the time, Pero wasn’t using violence. Just intimidation. The shopkeepers knew why he was here and knew the amount they needed to pay to The Family. It’s been the same amount for the past six months, in was raised temporarily for some needed repairs on the club the Valentino family owned. The actual story was that a few of the younger members had been ordered to torture a few members of a rival family and went overboard. The walls, floors and everything needed to be scrubbed. 

Tovar’s been with the Valentino family for fifteen years and as one of their premier enforcers for the last seven working his way up from errand boy. His height and broad frame discourage crossing him, and even if someone is dumb enough to do so, they find themselves bloodied, battered and with at least one thing broken. 

Today’s last stop for collections was planned and one that Pero normally did by himself. The bookstore owner also functions as the town’s librarian since the town doesn’t have one. It’s a smaller town and to get to a library you must drive two towns over. She normally offers him tea and some type of baked goodies. He wouldn’t admit it, but he’s grown to have a slight sweet tooth. Maybe. Really, he could care less about the sweets, he usually chats up the owner and barrows books. Considering he is collecting money from her, he felt he should pay but she always said no. He got the sense it wasn’t out of fear, she liked knowing his thoughts on different books. At first, he didn’t like the idea of discussing them. The enforcer wasn’t sure if he could really talk about different themes, symbols, characters and the like he often heard people talk about when discussing these books. 

La jefa (the boss) as he often greeted her didn’t judge him on his answers or lack of them. He’d talk the best he could about what he read, even if he didn’t understand it all. She listens and sips her tea, then asks him questions to draw more answers out of him. It fustrated him at first. But he grew to enjoy the bi-weekly sit downs with her. 

The chime of the bell goes off as he opens the door. The sun is at Pero’s back as he enters the bookstore. He comes early in the afternoon around two. She’s not at the counter, though the shop is listed as open. Calling out for her, she doesn’t answer, and he sucks his teeth. It isn’t like her at all. There’s no tea out either. There are no books that appear out of place and making his way behind the counter, nothing appears to be wrong with the register.

The enforcer goes into the back of the shop, he only knew where the bathroom was back here. He was looking for anything that resembled an office, as he walked down the hallway, there was a sniffle. As he kept going, they got louder. Taking a breath while he stood in front of a door that was slightly ajar, he tried to prepare himself. Maybe it was a bad day, maybe she got a papercut or was reading a sad book or something. Tovar instantly knew none of those were the case when he opened the door. 

Sitting behind the desk, her shoulders were slumped, and her hands were covering her face. He saw the scabs on the back of her hands, defensive marks. “Jefa dejame ver. (Boss, let me have a look).” Her sniffles stop for a moment as she shakes her head, turning her body away from him in the swivel chair. His eyes widen at the mark on her neck he spies it when she turns, it looks like it could be from a palm. Moving to her side, Pero places a hand on her shoulder, “I need to see cariño (sweetheart) or just give me a name. Who did this to you?” She finally drops her hands, but she turns her face away.

“I don’t want you to see. The envelope is on the desk Pero. Please.”  It is on the table, and he’ll put it in his jacket shortly - it is why he came here in the first place, but he can’t just leave like this. On top of her being one of a small number of people who he wants to be around, it could get around that the protection money the shops pay isn’t worth a damn because you could get beat in your own shop, and nothing will happen to whoever did it.

“Then tell me a name.” It’s sterner this time, but he’s released her shoulder and instead picked up her hand, his thumb tracing the scabs on her knuckles. She’d tried to fight back at least. She’s biting her lips when she finally looks at him, most of the discoloration is on the left side of her face though there’s a cut on her chin and one on her bottom lip. A large bruise is on her chest across her right clavicle, partly covered by her shirt. Pero’s able to keep his face motionless. “Por favor cariño (please sweetheart).” He doesn’t recognize the name she says, but he kisses her forehead and wraps an arm around her. “Gracias (thank you). I’ll be back princesa (princess).” 

Pero puts the envelope in his jacket pocket and heads out of the office. “Close the shop now and have the tea ready when I come back. Between eight and nine tonight.” He’s going to be quick about dropping the money off and he’s texted one of his associates with the name she gave. Within fifteen minutes, Pero has a picture to go with the name and a location. Marcello talks way too much, but he’s the best Tovar knows at tracking people.

Pero finds this man himself and tells Marcello to tell the higher ups that he needs to demonstrate a lesson in messaging with the family. He’ll need the basement and he’ll keep the clean up to a minimum. It’s not that there wouldn’t be blood. There might be too much blood so the powers at be approve the basement use but ask that Marcello and a second enforcer be there so that the man isn’t killed. There’s only murder when necessary and it wasn’t they viewed in this case. Pero sucked his teeth for the second time today but would make sure the man in question lives. Just not with all functioning limbs. 

After the submission of the money and subsequent torture was complete, the man’s body was bandaged by one of their doctors on the payroll and dropped off at his home, during a time they knew his family would be home with the message, “The Valentino family suffers no fools.” Pero carved it into his back to emphasize the point. He was still alive but would not be the same. Not after, as Tovar saw it, he’s violated one of his favorite places. 

La jefa has long closed her shop and made herself dinner. Now that she thought about it, she’s never made Pero any of her food, just cookies, brownies and the like. Since he said he was coming back, she would make extra. The worst that would happen would be that he would say he didn't want any.  It also dawned on her that she has not made a book recommendation today. She should pick one out before he comes, straightening out her mint green dress. Turning off the stove, she went downstairs to look for a book and saw Pero standing at the door ready to knock. It was a quarter after eight, he was glad he’d taken the extra time to shower. He didn’t want to be late, but he didn’t want to be dirty either. 

“Ah! Mi princesa del librios es bonita (My Princess of books is pretty). You have our tea ready tonight?” His question follows the chime of the bell above the door as she unlocks it and lets him in. She then locks it again and nods.

“I have tea and I made some extra for dinner. I didn’t pick out a book for you yet.” She seems a bit brighter than this afternoon but still trying to make sure she was facing him with her right side. Pero takes her left hand and tugs it a little, not hard, just enough so she faces him fully.

“Hermosa (gorgeous) you don’t have a bad side. Don’t worry about the book. I haven’t finished with the other one yet. I want my tea and I want to see what you made for dinner.” The corners of her mouth curve and finally she smiles, squeezing his hand and leading him up the stairs. Pero watches her walk up and into her living area. It’s cozy as it has books scattered about as well. 

“I don’t know if you like stew, but I made that and heated up some rolls. There’s butter too. I have water, apple juice, coke, and some rum.” The last option surprised him as he didn’t picture her drinking at all. Maybe she had a glass or two when she sat up here before bed. She poured herself a glass of water as Pero pointed to her glass and held up an empty bowel on the table. She filled both and they sat down across from each other. “I hope you enjoy Pero.”

“I don’t doubt that I will cariño.” The food went quickly as they ate, and she asked what other kind of foods he liked. Pero felt he might be getting greedy. Perhaps he’s been gluttonous of her attention each time he comes here. She gives it so willingly. 

Tonight’s tea is mint like her dress which makes Tovar chuckle as he takes up half of her loveseat sitting down. She takes up the other and they sip tea, speaking of past books they’ve read and things he may want to read. 

Even if he got an urgent call, he’ll ignore it because he’s having his tea. Pero Tovar doesn’t feel like an enforcer or a conduit for violence. He just has an arm around one of his favorite people as she places her head on his shoulder. The tough pads of his fingers touch the injured side of her face while he tells her that it’s been taken care of. He won’t tell her details. Tovar figures she can put it together. If he can just have moments like these where he’s just a man with someone he cares for, Pero can use that to sleep. He prays she can rest without crying or being scared. 

The loveseat has his feet hanging off outside of the blanket he found on the back of it. So far, he hasn’t heard her sniffle again. Pero carried her to bed after she fell asleep in his arms. The faint scent of mint mingling with the earthy smell of the books lulls him to sleep. He had blood on his hands again today, but it was fine. It was for her sake, and she hasn’t cried again.

It was worth it.

[samson-the-whale]

Yay I did it

Strider is my transformer's oc and this is his lore dump so enjoy :)

(I decided to write this like a lot dump with abit of story weighting stiel du to the vote on sed topic being practically an even split)

All info under cut

Base characters info:

•name: Strider (nicknames: scoot, scooter, and squirrel)

•gender: male (trans coded)

•hight: (idk exact transformers nights so I'ma just give a comparison answer) he is considered a smaller bot being about just a bit over half the night of say Megatron or Optimus

•basik description: he has a Slimer statue his head resembles that of a hat and he has a flip down visor his eyes are a yellowish orange wiel both with and without a cog he has green in his design. He is able to transform into a moped that is patterned with Wight and navy blue stripes.

Continuity appearances:

Tf erthspark

Ok so his lore will be formatted into three sections one being his life as a cogles bot two being his life as an autobot and then third and finally his life after he joins the deceptions.

One before the war:

Strider was a simple working class bot who hates himself. To put it less simply he feels Rong in his Owen plating specifically his alt mode, he haites that he's a moped. He has dreams of having sutch a better alt mode in his eyes specifically something that could fly he sleeps did what to go visit the stars, but because of his status and alt not mutch charges fore the bit he's lonely depressed and all he's got is his brother (moterborous by @certifiedforklif ).

Two false betrayal:

Ok so as we all know after everything the two factions formed the autobot and the decepticons well of course Strider was an autobot siding with his morals and thinking about the greater good but he had afu problems with the autobots.

One most of the time They ignored his ideas and was very excluded from “military action” being deemed as to small and un experienced; which really pissed him off because fore frags sake bumblebee was just a bit smaller than him and he was Optimuss right hand man. Two because of his lack of friends he was alone and none cared. But despite that he knew the autobots were good so he continued to work by their side.

Eventually one day he was able to get through to his higher ups and was put on a scouting team to go to the surface for whatever reason. Oh boy Strider was overjoyed finally getting the recognition he deserves. But of course tragedy strikes and the team is ambushed by a decepticons scouting team, a fight obviously breaks out the group of autobots outnumbered.

During the fight Strider thought this would be the perfect opportunity to prove himself after so many times of him insisting he was strong and Abel to help and during the fight he did surprisingly well but due to that he started to get cocky. He saw a defenslis seeker dangerous ne'er a cliffside after they had been a bit unsteady due to a previous blow. Strider took his shot and went in for a powerful punch but how would he know that this seeker was skywarp who was able to teleport out of the way just in time and end up behind Strider and successfully pushhim off the cliff.

Strider has so many regrets as he fell wishing and hoping that he would survive that someone would catch him that help would come but it didn't he just fell he eyed to grab the klif to slow or hopefully stop his descent to no avail In fact it didn't help but made the situation worse causing some rocks to nug loos falling with him and then falling on-top of him once he finally hit the ground. His body asked his vision to be blurry; he could taste his blood as he faded in and out of consciousness. He tried his best to stay awake in case someone came to save him. I mean he's an autobot, of course his “friends” would find him. …. Much time passed and Strider started to realize that no one was going to come for him; he had been forgotten And left to die left for dead. Maybe if he could fly he wouldn't be in this situation… he ended up passing out.

Three a new team:

After he woke up he expected to still be pinned under the rubble of the cliff but instead he was carried by someone he has some form of handcuffs on but he wasn't shur his brain was still a bit fuzzy. Once his optics focused he realized he didn't recognize who was carrying him well, at least not personally. He started to put two and two together and realized he had been taken prisoner by the decepticons and the one carrying him right now was soundwave (he only new who soundwave was fun to him over herring bee rant about him and other high gard members and how there all decepticons now) he wasn't sure if he should fight try to get free or run but the decision was made for him as soundwave had put him down after realizing he was up and hiding him into the decepticons base he was followed by the team Strider had previously fought. Eventually he was taken to that which resembles a brig and was put in a cell leaving him alone with his thoughts. Well not for long.

Fore new friends:

(Wow surprise forth part :0)

So ya that's his lore as simply I could put it so ya I hope you enjoyed

After a wiel Striders thoughts would be interrupted by a small bot wou would start up a conversation with him this bot being soundbite (my friend @soulsquiggled self insert) eventually the smalls bot leaves and two other bots walk by getting Striders attention being ( my frends @teddy-bear-xing and @binkusdinkus self inserts who are still being developed and drawn) Strider gets their attention and the three talk the two growing fond of Strider and Strider starting to make frends with decepticons of all people. Eventually he'd be let out of the cell and his cuts removed to his confusion untill being toled that the three boys he had talked with and put in a good word fore him specifically Frome soundbite dunto there conversation being like theeripy to Strider as he had vented to them and in that conversation he had mentioned Howe he felt betrayed by the autobots therefore giving him the chance to join the decepticons… and he did.

Also here is him with the logos (I didn't put it on his ref sheet becuss of him being on booth sides at one point.)

And also here is his old design that I scraped

[council-of-beetroot]

My crack AGZSC headcanon is that the group all tries to introduce Sephiroth to the concept of celebrating his birthday except their descriptions become progressively more unhinged so it starts of with Angeal discussing how birthdays were a simple but nice affair in his family with a cake.

Genesis: They were truly magnificent experiences!

Angeal: what Genesis fails to mention is that these parties were more elaborate than your average wedding and cost more than some in the village made in a year..

Sephiroth: it seems peculiar that there would be so many guests for such a function. Perhaps the partygoers were incentivized by the prospect of securing the small fortune contained in the gift bags that you said were distributed.

Genesis: Are you implying that the only reason people showed up to my birthday parties was because of the gift bags?

Sephiroth: That is a possibility!

Genesis: Excuse me! Everyone showed up because they wished to celebrate such milestones and recognize the achievements of a young blossoming prodigy!

Sephiroth: peculiar indeed.

Genesis: people came to my parties because they liked me!

Angeal: Why does it matter. You didn't even like most of the people there either!

Genesis: I suppose that's true... none of my peers had the same appreciation for the arts...

Zack interrupts: Hey! I heard we were talking birthday parties! Who are we surprising?

Angeal: No one at the moment, we were simply discussing various birthday traditions with Sephiroth.

Sephiroth: I have obtained a plethora of information regarding birthday traditions across the planet and wish to confirm if my research into the traditions of your hometown is correct and if the traditions persist today.

Zack: Birthdays in Gongaga were epic! There was music and presents, decorations, cake!

Sephiroth: I have investigated further into the matter and came across a peculiar tradition in Gongaga where the children are blindfolded and made to strike a papier-mâché creature until it releases the confections inside?

Sephiroth: that seems unwise

Zack: nah, we take precautions, that's why they aren't made out of ceramic pottery anymore!

Zack: it was the best!But to really have fun you gotta spin the person around a bunch so that they end up getting all mixed up! Once I got knocked unconscious because a kid went the wrong way! It was hilarious!

Genesis: I had theorized for ages that you must dropped on the head as an infant, and it appears that that theory isn't far off from the truth.

Zack: Hey Cloud! What do you and other people in Nibelheim do for their birthdays.

Cloud: some people had parties but I didn't, didn't think anyone would show up. Ma always made birthdays truly special, she would find the perfect gift and would bake a really good cake. It was nice just to spend time with her.

Zack: Ha! That reminds me in Gongaga, it's tradition for your friends to begin chanting before grabbing you and shoving your face into the cake! Good times!

Angeal: wouldn't that ruin the cake

Zack: Yeah that's why you get three cakes!

Sephiroth: Cloud, Your traditions appear simple yet adequate and therefore seem appealing

Cloud: hmm, what else, oh there's an ancient Nibelheim custom to slap someone's ass with a belt on their eighteenth birthday as a rite of passage.

*everyone stares at him*

*This is based on an old rural polish tradition called pasowanie. Not widely practiced and some frown upon it but nonetheless a thing. Obligatory discretionary note that some see it as hurtful while other see it as a humourous welcome into adulthood and people usually don't full on beat up someone in this tradition. People always headcanon Nibelheim to be a very rural very old fashioned place with odd traditions so I felt this fit. While I based Gongaga's on Mexican traditions Because my best friend is Mexican so her birthdays were incredibly fun always with a piñata but her family never did mordida (the cake tradition) and it makes sense as it ruins the cake often in my opinion.

[arzen9]

Can I Be Good? Chapter 1: Welcome to the Crimson Palace - Lark

pairing: Astarion/f!Tav | Astarion/f!OC 18+ MDNI word count: 2k tags/warnings: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Not Canon Compliant, Vampire Ascendant Astarion, Redemption, Slow Burn, Enemies to Lovers, Mystery, Romance, Drama, Angst, Fluff, Smut, Original Female Character summary: Centuries of pain, a ritual, (not) hunger, (not) desire, a lost soul, a search, a yearning, bodies, bodies... And a heart that changes everything.

Finally I am putting the modern AU story I've had in my head for a while out there, I hope it will be as enjoyable to read as it is to write it! I am VERY excited for this story to unravel. I will be updating the tags as the plot progresses.

I will TRY to update on a weekly basis, BUT life can happen!

If you're reading this, I LOVE you<3

I will be making a playlist to go with this story, so keep an eye out for that also!

“They call him…” Wyll pauses for dramatic effect, and downs his shot of tequila. “The Lord of the Night.”

Lark and Lae’zel blink in unison before falling into a fit of giggles. Lark even snorts. 

“Fucking unreal,” she says while she pours another round for all of them. 

“But you are desperate for a job, yes?” Lae’zel asks.

“That I am,” Lark responds and sinks further down the couch. 

“It’s just a stupid rumor,” Wyll tries. “You know people of Baldur’s Gate love to gossip.” 

“We’ll see if it’s a rumor or not, I guess,” she says and reaches for her shot glass. “My interview’s next week.” 

“We need to spice up, as you say, our hang out places,” Lae’zel suddenly interjects. “We always meet in one of our apartments. If we got out more, we would know if this boss of yours was really the lord of the night or not.”

“He’s not my boss yet,” Lark says, squinting her eyes as the tequila makes its way down her throat. “You’re right though.”

Wyll jumps in his seat. “I have an idea.”

The two women eye him in the low light of the room. 

“Why don’t we go see this Crimson Palace for ourselves? A test drive, so to speak.”

“I like it,” Lae’zel says flatly. Lark agrees. 

Because why not? They have never tried going to the most popular nightclub of Baldur’s Gate— owned by one mysterious figure, only seen by those who subscribe to magazines that compile lists for the city’s best dressed, richest, most luxuriously-living— Lark’s potential future boss, Astarion Ancunín. She has done some research online on him, but there doesn’t seem to be much information beyond his physical appearance— a man that looks like he was hand-sculpted by the Gods themselves. Lark had shown some of the pictures she saw online to her friends, garnering mixed reactions.

“Whoa,” Wyll had said, “He does look rich alright. A bit pale, perhaps.”

“He looks breakable,” was Lae’zel’s contribution to the conversation.

And that was that. 

Lark’s job search had been an ongoing process for the past seven months— ever since she graduated with her master’s in poetry. She had known it would be difficult to find a job with a creative degree, but not to this extent. Doing odd jobs at odd hours could only take one so far in life.

So when she saw a listing on a board online for a personal assistant to the owner of the Crimson Palace, she jumped on it; the pay was way too generous for what seemed to be nothing more than a simple assistantship. The job description said the position was temporary with the potential for something more (whatever that meant); there was a winter masquerade party coming up and the big boss needed some help (the listing of course didn’t say big boss, but Lark found it funny to call this sculpture of a man big boss).

  What she wasn’t expecting was to be called in for an interview literally five minutes after submitting her application. It was a woman she talked on the phone to, with a peculiar name— Shadowheart. Lark still wonders if it is some kind of stage name.

They take the subway to the Crimson Palace, all three of them already a little tipsy— clearly not finding anything wrong with going to Lark’s potential workplace to get shitfaced one week before her interview. She doesn’t dwell on it— if she gets rejected, she gets rejected. Nothing new. 

“Helm’s cock,” Wyll exclaims, earning a raised brow from Lae’zel and a squint from Lark, when they get out of the subway train and see the club in the distance. “It is a palace. You know, this place has some history to it. Rumor has it, it was owned by a cruel vampire once.”

“Definitely looks the part,” Lark sneers. “What’s it with you and rumors tonight?”

Lae’zel starts walking ahead of them. “I assumed we are here to drink, not indulge in history lessons,” she says. Wyll and Lark giggle but follow her regardless.

If the Crimson Palace looked grand from the outside, it’s even more so when they enter it: a huge dance floor greets them, the bar lining the left wall. The ceiling is so high that looking up makes Lark’s head turn. On what she assumes to be one of the upper floors, she can see a small balcony, big enough for maybe two people to stand together at once. It is a dizzying place— the tequila they’ve already had combined with the loud, booming music doesn’t help. But they’re here. For an excursion. 

Wyll turns back around to look at the bodyguard that ushered them in with an unusually friendly grin. “She’s beautiful,” he says, voice flat with a sprinkle of awe, as if he’s merely stating a fact. 

“Indeed,” Lae’zel says, making Lark laugh. The red tiefling woman is beautiful, to be fair. Even in the dark atmosphere of the club she looks like a flame, smile warm, eyes like honey. 

Lark decides that this is not Shadowheart. 

Lae’zel is not normally one to dance, but Lark pulls her to the middle of the dance floor anyway. Wyll makes his way to the bar to get drinks, and Lark finds a sappy feeling ruminating in her chest— their friendship has gone beyond asking. They just do, nowadays. 

“Perhaps Wyll’s rumor is true,” Lae’zel screams in her ear. “This palace certainly seems fit to hold vampires.”

“Better watch out for papercuts, then,” Lark jests but her friend doesn’t seem to hear. It matters not. 

They’re having fun. She might get her job next week. Everything is finally looking up.

That line of thought makes her actually look up, just as Wyll arrives with their drinks. Maybe it’s instinct, maybe it’s the flash of something silver in the darkness. All Lark knows is that, on the balcony she saw mere moments ago; there is now a man standing. Observing. A king overseeing the execution he ordered. 

Perhaps Wyll’s rumors are getting to Lark’s head, a little bit.

From the balcony, his gaze falls on her; a hawk zeroing in on its prey. The pictures online don’t do him justice, Lark thinks. Even from this distance, he is breathtaking. 

Quite literally, as she has to look away to remember how to breathe. She feels a weird rise of panic bubbling in her chest and frantically looks around to see Lae’zel take a sip from her drink. But Wyll is looking straight at her. 

“…Alright?” Lark can see his mouth move more than just one word, but this is all she catches. She gives him a quick nod before tearing through the crowd— everything suddenly feels too much. She is feeling too much. 

Washing her face will calm her down. If only she knew where the restrooms were. 

Lark just follows whatever space she can create among the drunken crowd, which isn’t much. For what feels like an eternity, she can’t even see where she’s going. 

Until she finds herself free from the smell and noise of everyone around her, off of the dance floor. There are no signs around; only an open arch that leads to a dark hallway, barricaded by thick, velvet ropes hanging from three carefully placed posts. Something tells her that this may not be the way to the restroom— but even in the middle of a panic attack she feels the pull of curiosity lead her down this poorly lit path. 

At the end of the marble-floor corridor she sees a flight of stairs; her feet carry her forward while her heart keeps beating in her ears. She hasn’t had an attack like this in a while. Taking a deep, labored breath, she reminds herself that there is no danger— she is out having fun with her friends. There is no one to take that away from her. Not anymore, at least.

Lark tries to take steady steps ascending the stairs. It is way too dark to be quick. When she reaches the top, she’s faced with another corridor, more marble flooring. Doors line both sides. The closest one to her is slightly ajar, a dim but visible light shining through. 

“West wing ass place,” she mumbles to herself, but carries on. Before entering the room, she looks around. It is eerily quiet here considering the dance floor is just below. Silence spell, perhaps? Closing her eyes, she tries to detect the familiar hum of magic. Nothing. That does give her an idea, though— she doesn’t know why she does it, but before she can dwell on it the word leaves her lips: “Evanesco.”

Now she can snoop around comfortably. The hope of washing her face has all but vanished, replaced with a relentless curiosity eating at her. The vision of the man standing on the balcony seeps again in her mind.

So that is Astarion Ancunín. 

The room she’s found herself in seems to be some sort of storage space— walls lined with shelves upon shelves of books, files and other serious-business looking things. They don’t catch her interest much. She can now see the source of that dim light seeping into the corridor, however— a singular candle stick placed on one of the shelves, as if someone just placed it there. Is this the Crimson Palace’s way of saving on electricity?

Lark peers at the particular shelf, which seems to contain meticulously organized folders, marked with names in alphabetical order. She reaches out and touches one of them— marked Raphael.  Pulling the folder out and peeking inside, she realizes that they’re letters. The first one out of the bunch is dated—

“A little early for your interview, are you not?”

Lark gasps, all sound coming back around her as if her ears had been clogged for days. The sound of music coming from downstairs. People laughing, talking. She loses concentration on the invisibility spell, and as she scrambles to turn around, the folder drops on the floor with a thud.

In front of her is the man she has now seen more than just a handful of times— a bunch in photos and then up on the balcony. Seeing him up close is… different. Everything about his appearance reflects purpose and deliberation, from the curls of his silver hair to the dangerous upwards angle of his lips. He’s wearing black from head to toe and for a second, forgetting what is actually happening, Lark thinks she’s never seen someone so perfect before.

“How did you—”

He gathers his arms behind him and looks down at Lark, crimson eyes in search of something she cannot fathom.

But then it hits her— the hum, the pull.

He’s trying to read her mind. 

Lark feels bad for him, only if for a second. He doesn’t know who she is.

She expertly blocks his spell, darkened eyes waiting for the disappointment on his face. It doesn’t appear.

“I believe you have lost your way,” he says with another plastic smile. He seems to be keeping his lips tightly closed on purpose. “Shall I escort you out?”

“I was just looking for the restroom.”

They look at each other, both knowing fully well that this is a lie. He doesn’t push.

“You might come to regret sneaking around like this if I decide to count this as our first official meeting.” 

There is danger in his eyes, but it doesn’t quite reach the amused tug of his mouth. Lark backs away from him, then steps to the side. His gaze follows her every move. 

“I’m sorry,” she mumbles. It’s a miracle she can find her voice in this moment. The intensity of those garnet eyes is not something magazine cover photos can capture. 

As she leaves the room, almost running, Lark keeps her head down. That panic in her chest is back— or— is it excitement?

The last thing Astarion Ancunín tells her before she is once again lost among the crowds is full of expectations, his voice silkier than whatever can be found in Cormyr.

“I look forward to seeing you next week, Miss Promise.”

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