#cw unhealthy work habits

[vinbee631]

15 - I Don’t Need No Love (All I Need Is a Sugar Rush)

Prodigal Sons and Daughters Alike

The weekends were an interesting time at Sanders Academy. A lack of classes (but not lack of homework) allowed students to have free range of the building and the opportunity to work or relax wherever and whenever they wanted. 

Most students enjoyed the free time... and then there was Virgil.

Chapter title from Sugar Rush by Addison Grace, heavily recommend his music, very relaxing and good for writing ;) also JEEZ give Virgil HUGS ALREADY DAMMIT. That being said, cw for dissosiciation, burnout/overworking, and detrimental work ethics, why won't someone help this poor boy???

(oh wait I wrote this)

(spoiler he doesn't get hugs yet)

The weekends were an interesting time at Sanders Academy. A lack of classes (but not lack of homework) allowed students to have free range of the building and the opportunity to work or relax wherever and whenever they wanted. 

Most students enjoyed the free time, having the freedom to make their own schedule for studying or working, or taking advantage the ample free time to make plans with friends. Only seniors were allowed to have cars on campus, but most of the students who didn’t drive, or didn’t have a close friend to drive them around, were more than content to find a spot to relax on campus.

And then there was Virgil.

It wasn’t that he didn’t enjoy having a bit of free time to study. Quite the opposite, in fact, he knew just how important individual work time was for getting projects done. However, the amount of freedom he and his fellow students were given on weekends was almost- overwhelming. 

He wasn’t able to space his time out effectively. Saturday morning, he would work with his usual motivation until all his work was done, then practice his own music until he felt physically exhausted. 

And it was still before noon at that point.

He had followed an exact replica of that pattern three times already, and the fourth seemed to be no exception. That particular Thursday, Virgil was exhausted, overworked, and anxious by about 11 o’clock.

The problem was, he didn’t have a truly private space to take a break or destress, despite desperately needing to. But, there were other people there, people who would reach out to talk to him as soon as he arrived. 

As much as he had gotten used to that fact, he was absolutely not in the headspace for human interaction today.

Virgil could pinpoint the exact moment it hit noon, snapping out of what he realized was a long bout of dissociation in his practice room. He stood slowly and stretched, resisting the slight urge to chuck his music binder across the room and instead stuffed it back into his bag with a huff.

Maybe a chance of scenery would fix his problem? If he already associated these rooms with such a big roadblock, maybe a more neutral space would bring his motivation back.

He packed up the rest of his things, snapped his violin case closed, and slipped into the empty hallway.

Well, it was empty now. The foot traffic here was usually light, but he was by far not the only one practicing on the weekends. Playing out here would be disruptive, and catch people’s attention, two things he didn’t want. He kept walking, up the stairs and away from the music wing.

He ended up in the stairwell that led to the culinary arts classrooms on the second floor. It was the first place he found without lurking groups of chatting students, or people outside staring at him through the glass doors and windows, and there was an easier-to-access stairwell at the other end of the hallway, so the privacy should last for some time.

With a surge of determination from the fresh, private environment, he slid his violin out of its case and began to play the first thing that came to mind. 

Virgil didn’t often memorize songs on his violin. Unless forced to for a performance or audition, he avoided it, considering it was a much lengthier process than memorizing piano pieces. He preferred sheet music for this instrument. In hindsight, it would have been wise to bring a music stand. 

Yet, there were a few songs he could think of that stuck.

Most of them were pieces he’d learned in his own time, ones not assigned by tutors or recommended by his father. Some of them were silly, repetitive ones that people on the internet that didn’t play instruments could gush about. 

Long story short, Virgil raised the instrument up to playing position, and a moment later a slightly more technically challenging version of Touch-Tone Telephone resonated up the stairs and through the hallways, echoing slightly.

He cycled through a few other songs he could think of, even fingering around part of his audition for this school. After a while, the motivation dulled, and the last of the melodious echo faded.

It did not fade fast enough to avoid catching someone’s attention.

“That was beautiful.” Virgil jumped, turning to face Patton, deathly pale and expression wild. “Oh, sorry! Didn’t mean to scare ya. I was just cooking upstairs and heard some beautiful music, and I wanted to tell whoever was playing that they were doing a great job! So, good job Virgil!”

Virgil’s pallid face abruptly turned crimson at the praise. “Er, thanks. Was… was that it, then?”

Patton blinked. “Well, I guess so! You can get back to your playing if you like. I can’t promise I won’t be doing a bit of healthy eavesdropping, but you really are a great musician!” 

Virgil shrugged. “I’ve run out of motivation at this point.” He surprised himself as he admitted the fact. “And, uh- thanks again. See you later.”

“Wait!” Virgil turned, raising an eyebrow as Patton regained his attention. “...What?”

“Would you… gosh, this is kind of a silly question, but would you wanna- cook with me? I just… well, it doesn’t seem like you’re busy now, and- not gonna lie you look a little stressed. I’m sure baking is not as big a stress reliever for you as it is for me, but- you can come if you’d like! It might be- fun?” 

Virgil frowned at the question. He had never cooked or baked in any capacity, and for the most part, neither did his family. He was going to be utterly clueless, and he was going to do so in front of an almost stranger, who happened to be a prodigy in the subject.

“...Yeah, why not?” 

…

Secretly, Patton was very grateful he’d run into Virgil when he did. After Roman’s conversation with him, the dance student had expressed how he was, quite frankly, very worried about him. Whatever their little argument had started from had ended with, well…

To Roman, it seemed like Virgil was dealing with something a lot bigger than any of them could have expected.

Patton didn’t think it was fair, nor a good idea, to confront him about it, especially if it was a mental health issue as they feared. Instead, he was more than happy to continue with the plan they originally settled on.

And this was going to be much more fun, anyway.

“So, so, so, I’m trying a new recipe! I do a lot of research for fun things to try on the weekends, and sometimes I’ll try out stuff I know I’m not good at for the practice without judgment from anyone! I don’t know how good you are at cooking but don’t worry, you can help with all the easy stuff, or just watch if it’s a bit much!”

Virgil blinked. “I… probably won’t be much help. I can’t really cook, and if it’s something you’re not good at… yeah, there’s no hope for me.”

“No big deal! We can figure out something you’ll be able to do, I’m sure of it!” Virgil shrugged, tying the apron Patton handed him around his waist. 

Patton spread the three-page recipe out in front of them, and Virgil stared at the instructions. He looked overwhelmed, to say the least, and yeah, it was kind of complicated. But Virgil could help with the easy bits, and Patton could handle the rest!

“You leave for two minutes and come back with a friend.” Virgil jumped as Patton’s dad emerged from his office with a smile. “Why am I not surprised?”

Patton giggled. “What can I say? I got a bit distracted, but I’m ready to start now if you are?” He directed his attention back to Virgil with a smile, hoping the other boy wouldn’t question who this was and how they knew each other. 

He trusted Virgil for the most part, but he hadn’t told any of his other close friends about his parents. He wasn’t exactly ready to start now. Luckily, Virgil glossed over it with a grimace-y smile. “Uh, sure. Let’s… do it?” 

Patton waved at his dad as he left, then got right back in the baking zone. This was gonna be so much fun!

“Alright! I have all the ingredients laid out, do you wanna combine all the dry stuff for me?” Virgil nodded, looking over the list Patton had put to the side, along with the ingredients he’d laid out that the other boy would need.

Combining the dry ingredients for the sponge cakes seemed like something Virgil could handle while Patton took care of the lady fingers, mascarpone, and keeping the whole project organized. Layering was a challenge for later, when all these steps were done.

Despite his initial uneasiness, it seemed like Virgil was having a good time! He had a lot of questions, probably to make sure he didn’t make any mistakes, but eventually, he seemed to become much more confident in what he was doing.

“So, now I’m gonna move the sponge cake batter into these two pans, but I’ll cut ‘em in half later,” Patton explained as he stuck the pans in the oven.

“Isn’t… this is tiramisu, so why do you need the sponge cakes? Uh… unless, it- normally has that? I don’t… I’m not the expert.”

Patton grinned at the opportunity to explain. “So, yeah, normal tiramisu is just the ladyfingers and mascarpone, but I found this recipe the other day that has a layer of sponge as kind of a third layer, I think they called it a parfait tiramisu, and the sponges are soaked in different mixtures, the sponge cake one is a little more chocolate-y than the espresso for the ladyfingers. That’s why I wanted to try it! It’s a little different than other recipes I’ve followed.”

“I guess you thought a lot about this,” Virgil noted with a bit of a smirk. 

“Yeah,” Patton admitted, cheeks tinged slightly pink. “It’s something I’m pretty passionate about. I’ve never been super obsessed with being this- awesome, child prodigy chef or baker, but instead, I try to challenge myself to do new things, stuff I’m not even sure I can make, just to see. It’s fun, to see what food is capable of becoming. And then I get to share it with the people I love!” 

His roommate nodded along with the explanation. “Yeah, I get that. It’s probably… better, to be more focused on learning and growing than… being perfect,” Virgil trailed off, and Patton wasn’t quite sure they were just talking about him anymore.

“Well, there’s nothing wrong with being perfect! I just think perfectionism is a waste of energy. Culinary arts isn’t an exact science, anyway. I mean, the recipe is important, but the beauty and the- originality comes from the variety, the steps you take to make it your own creation. And, it tastes good, hopefully! And when it doesn’t taste good, you can laugh about it, tell the story, and try again.”

“Try again, huh?” Virgil frowned staring off into nowhere. “I… sorry, that… I got off track. Uh, that makes a lot of sense. Never really thought about it that way, but I don’t cook, so I guess I wouldn’t know.”

“Well, someone quite wise once said, ‘anyone can cook,’ so here we are! I hope you had fun, at least,” Patton replied brightly, sticking the last of their creation into the oven and setting the appropriate timers for each pan.

“...Did you just quote Ratatouille at me?” Virgil stared at him in bafflement, but a shocked smirk gave away how he really felt.

Patton giggled, taking a seat in a nearby stool, waving for Virgil to do the same. “I guess I did, not taking it back, though. It’s a good quote! A very wise rat,” he declared sagely.

Virgil chuckled in response, sitting down across from him. He didn’t seem to have anything to add, and Patton’s words were making him think about- something big. So, he left him be, enjoying the ambient sounds of the almost empty kitchen.

The comfortable silence was only interrupted by the shrill ringing of his time. Patton jumped up with a grin. Now for the fun part!

“Alright, well, all that��s left is to wait for this stuff to cool and combine it once it’s out of the oven. If you wanna stick around and hang out until it’s done, you can. But, if you want, I can just text you when it’s done for the taste test! That’s the most important part, after all!” 

“I… uh, I can stay. Not much else to do, anyway. Uhm… would you… er, wanna- talk more about the, uh- recipes? Like, other- cool one’s you’ve tried… before? You don’t have to but… seemed like something you’d- uh, like to talk about to… pass time I guess,” Virgil stammered.

“Oh, absolutely! I have all kinds of stories, some of them with more- er, successful outcomes than others. Ooh, I should tell you about the first tiered cake I made with my parents! We ended up having to order one, since it was actually for someone else, but we wanted to try it ourselves first! It was, heh- kind of a waste of eggs, actually.”

Virgil watched from his spot on his stool as Patton rambled excitedly, their cake being cooled on the counter behind him. 

Okay, maybe this wasn’t the most productive way to spend a Saturday afternoon, and Virgil was conveniently ignoring the fact he was once again choosing to spend time with one of his roomates.

Patton’s excited smile as he talked about something he really, truly loved kinda made it worth it.

…Just as long as he still got to eat the cake afterwards. 

[ariesangelxo]

okay so i was thinking something like rafe always gives like reader butt pats and she’s gotten used to it so much that she can’t go a day without it. so one day rafe doesn’t do it and she automatically thinks he’s mad at her but rafes not he just does the but pats without thinking. so then their whole day goes along with them fighting abt small things till rafe asks her what’s wrong and they make up🤗

🌶️anon!

rafe cameron x fem reader

minors & ageless blogs dni

cw: a bit of angst, a lil bit of comfort in the end. some suggestive content, spanking, reader is an overthinker, reader also isn’t good about talking abt her feelings

a/n: i’m sorry this took so long! i hope i did this justice <33

being by rafe’s side was ninety percent of your daily routine. he’d asked you to move into tannyhill not long after ward passed, and being his loving girlfriend that doted on his every step, you did.

you couldn’t have been happier to spend nearly all of your time with him. rafe treated you like a princess. despite his rough reputation around outerbanks, you knew him to be the most loving man you’d ever met.

he could tell when you were upset, the small tells of you avoiding eye contact and biting down on your bottom lip made it obvious to him when you needed him most. he was usually able to get you back to your sweet and happy self with just focusing his attention on you. his touch, his voice, his presence, it comforted you in ways nothing else could.

rafe always gave you small pats on your ass throughout the day. it was something you’d grown accustomed to and you adored it. it was one of those little things he did that unknowingly made your heart swell. his casual dominance allowed you to turn your brain off, every thought in your pretty head revolved around him.

today, however, had been a bit different. it started with him not giving you the normal pat when you got out of bed this morning. you didn’t think too much of it, figuring he was probably concerned with work-related emails on his phone.

then it was the lack of attention while you made him breakfast. you enjoyed your small housewife-like duties. rafe walked into the kitchen, leaning his back against the granite countertop. but when he didn’t come up behind you and place a sweet kiss against your neck while aggressively claiming your ass as his, a slight pout formed on your lips. rafe was too engrossed in his phone to notice it though.

when you put a plate of food in front of him, he barely looked up to give you a half smile. you quickly went back to busying yourself in the kitchen, trying to keep your mind away from the anxious thoughts beginning to swirl around.

much to your dismay, washing the dishes wasn’t helping. did you do something wrong? could you have said something last night that, unintentionally of course, upset him? were you being too clingy? was it really just work?

you let out a deep sigh as you finished drying off a frying pan. “you okay?” rafe called out to you.

you turned to look at him, placing a small smile on your face that was definitely not genuine. “yeah, ‘m fine.”

he didn’t look satisfied with your answer, but he didn’t push any further. you didn’t want to share any of your current thoughts. if it was really only him being stressed with the business, you would feel bad for assuming otherwise. you didn’t want to overthink small things, but it was one of your unhealthy habits.

shortly after eating and cleaning up, you were upstairs in your shared room getting ready to go to the country club with rafe. he’d made plans a few days ago to go golfing with topper and kelce, naturally, you were going. rafe brought you with him almost everywhere.

you put on a short white tennis skirt, one that you knew drove him wild, along with a tight pink tank top. as you finished applying your layer of lip gloss, you looked yourself over in the mirror. there was no way rafe could resist giving you a firm slap on the ass when it looked so good in the tiny skirt.

“c’mon, kid. don’t have all day here.” he called out from the bottom of the stairs.

“‘m coming,” you responded, grabbing your small pink purse and heading down.

you walked out of the bedroom with a big smile on your face, nearly skipping down the hall. once you got to the top of the stairs, rafe looked up, giving you a quick smirk.

he held the door open for you on the way out of the house, and of course as you got into his truck, but still hadn’t given you a single pat today. you were genuinely beginning to grow concerned at this point. you could brush off not getting them when you got out of bed or while making breakfast, but when he didn’t give you one while you walked out of the front door, swaying your hips, or stepping up into his truck, purposely bending over so your mini skirt rode up? that was extremely unusual.

you buckled yourself in, leaning your knees closer to the door than him and stared out the window.

“you have an attitude?” he questioned you, his tone having a bit of edge to it.

“nope,” you replied, popping the ‘p’, “‘m fine.”

you glanced over just in time to see rafe rolling his eyes. he didn’t verbally say anything, but his actions spoke loud enough for you.

you crossed your arms, childishly leaning further into the door to put what distance you could between the two of you. rafe let out a sigh, but still didn’t say anything.

the short drive to the country club was filled with tension. it was uncomfortably silent, neither of you speaking a word to each other.

rafe stepped out of the truck when you arrived, slamming his door shut a bit harder than usual. he still came to your side though, opening up the door for you to step out. he once again didn’t offer any touch to you. your heart sank, you truly didn’t know what was going on.

he grabbed his clubs from the back, walking ahead of you to go meet topper and kelce on the course. you followed behind, slow and stubbornly, your arms crossed and your brow furrowed with a pout on your lips.

you sat in the passenger seat, legs and arms crossed as your manicured nails tapped against your bicep in an irritated manner. you looked cranky, and you knew it based on the looks topper and kelce gave rafe when you initially followed behind him. you usually wore a bright smile and clung to rafe’s side, excitedly greeting the boys.

“what’s goin’ on with her?” you heard topper ask rafe. he attempted to keep his volume low so you wouldn’t hear, but with his naturally loud voice, he failed miserably.

your eyebrow quirked up. you were curious to hear rafe’s response.

“no fuckin’ clue.” rafe grumbled out, trying to focus on his swing. you rolled your eyes, it was his fault you were in a bad mood. he’s the one that’s been neglecting you since you woke up.

topper glanced over at you, letting out a slight laugh at your pouting. rafe’s eyes followed, he pinched his nose in annoyance.

he walked up to the cart where you were sitting, crossing his arms as he looked down at you.

“okay, kid. what’s goin’ on? why are you pouting?”

you let a small scoff out, furrowing your brows, “don’t act so interested now just because your friends noticed.”

rafe was taken aback at your tone. you never spoke to him with an attitude like that. his eyes narrowed, looking at you in a way that made you feel minuscule.

“you can lose that little attitude you’ve got goin’ on, now.” his voice was stern, dripping with annoyance. you wanted to disappear, you were so frustrated that he didn’t understand he was the reason for your attitude.

you looked away from him, pulling your sunglasses over your eyes as you said nothing and stared forward, not particularly focusing on anything.

rafe muttered a “whatever.” before walking back to where topper and kelce were.

you did feel bad for having an attitude, but the way you felt like you were being rejected by him made you want to shut down. it made you want to disappear from the face of the earth for a while. you felt embarrassed, upset, and now overwhelmed with your brain going into overthinking.

you didn’t say a word to any of the men as they played through the course. not even when rafe would get into the drivers seat and bring you two to the next hole.

you instead spent that time biting down harshly on the inside of your lip, fighting to keep the tears of frustration from falling past your eyes. you tried to focus on literally anything else, but the constant noise of thoughts swirling through your brain made it impossible.

they’d wrapped up the last hole. you heard rafe saying something about possibly meeting them around the country club after for lunch.

you refused to look up at him, even when he started heading your way. you missed the way he wore a half smirk as he looked at your pouting figure. he knew you were upset about something, but you weren’t great about vocalizing your feelings.

“d’you want to go back to the restaurant for lunch?”

“don’t care,” you muttered out, looking down at your nails as if they were the most interesting thing in the world.

“well, your options are either that or we can go home. your choice, kid.” he wasn’t feeding into your baiting tone, and that just irritated you further.

“said i don’t care, rafe.”

“s’okay. we can go home and you can take a nap, because you clearly need one.” he rounded the golf cart, hopping into the driver’s seat as he brought you back to the entrance.

you got out before he could, beginning to storm your way to his truck.

“hey! slow the fuck down. you know you don’t walk into a busy ass parking lot without me.” he called out to you.

you halted, but didn’t turn around to acknowledge him. you mumbled an “okay, asshole.” under your breath, not thinking he’d hear.

boy, were you wrong. it took a matter of seconds for rafe to be in front of you, one of his large hands squishing your cheeks as he moved jaw up to look at him, “wanna say that again, princess?” he said challengingly.

you didn’t respond. wrong answer. his nostrils flared as he squinted at you. he gripped your wrist, harshly dragging you to where the truck was parked. he brought you around to the passenger door where it blocked onlookers from the country club from seeing you.

“i don’t know what the fuck’s goin’ on with you today. but i will not put up with this shit in front of others. you know i- i have a reputation to uphold here, right? you think it looks good on me for others to see my girl being a bitch towards me, huh?”

your lip wobbled as tears began to fill your eyes. you wanted to look away, to look anywhere besides his mean stare, but his rough hand on your face wouldn’t allow it.

“no!” you cried out, “just- just wanted your affection. dunno why you’re mad at me.” you whimpered out, tears beginning to cascade down your cheeks.

“kid. why do you think i’m mad at you?” he quirked an eyebrow inquisitively.

“b-because you haven’t given me a single pat today! ‘nd you give me them everyday!”

he closed his eyes, taking a deep inhale to calm himself.

“you think i’m mad at you because i haven’t smacked your ass today?”

when he said it like that, it sounded stupid. but it felt like so much more than that to you.

he rolled his eyes, using his hands to wipe away the tears on your face. he made sure you were looking at him, “sweetheart, ‘m not mad at you. i’ve been busy with some clients that aren’t following through on their payments today.”

you looked at him hopefully, hiccuping as you brought your hands up on his.

“do you pinky promise you’re not mad at me?” you asked him softly, holding out one of your pinkies.

“pinky promise. but you’re not gonna be able to sit tomorrow with the spanking you’re getting when we get home.” he reached out his pinky, stifling back a smirk as he intertwined them.

“m’kay!” you responded happily, the tears stopping and a smile appearing on your face.

he opened up the passenger door, holding his hand out to help you get in before he gave your bottom a firm pat and buckled you in.

he chuckled to himself as he rounded the truck, “all that attitude because she didn’t get her ass smacked, huh?”

[boothillssugarmomma]

sunday likes shiny stuff bc ravens likes shiny stuff, its just an idea

I love that idea! Birds all like shiny stuff so I could see him sneaking away with your jewelry and trinkets!

🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀

Shiny Treasures

(Sunday x Fem!Reader)

cw-: lying Sunday, fluff, embarrassed boy, nervous boy 🤭

🎀 authorsnote: I literally was supposed to post this three weeks ago I'm so sorry 😭

please don't steal my work!

🎀Taglist🎀HSR Master List🎀 Other Lists🎀

Sunday had...a certain fondness for shiny things...a rather childish and unanticipated flaw to his character, really. No matter how small, insignificant or worthless they were.

Perhaps it had something to do with the halovians' innate desire for attention and glory, that would explain it. Or maybe it was because he was like a bird. But whatever the case, he was rather drawn to the gleam of precious gems and glittery accessories.

He sometimes tries to snatch your jewelry, thinking that you wouldn't notice, but fails miserably and you find that adorable.

"Hey hon do you know where that necklace I was wearing yesterday went?" You hum, peeking into his office.

Your boyfriend is hard at work, staring at some papers with concentration as he writes on them.

Sunday looked at you through the corner of his eye. His eyes looked a bit panicked before he started to concentrate on his papers again, but at this moment, he was just pretending.

"No, I don't...why my love?"

He answered with a simple reply. He thought that might work, right?

"Oh really?" You smile as you lean against the doorway. "I was going to wear it to that event we need to go to tonight."

Sunday stayed silent. And for some reason, his face started to redden a bit.

He knew that you weren't a fool. Why did he even think that you didn't know he stole your jewelry? Sunday sighed.

"Fine."

He opened his left drawer to carefully pick up your necklace and hold it out to you. Blushing as he looks away.

You snicker walking forward to lean down and kiss his forehead. "I know you like shiny things baby...but try to work on it?" Your voice soothes his embarrassment a bit.

Sunday looks at you, his face going even redder when you kissed his forehead.

"Mhm...I will...sorry"

He answered softly. He definitely didn't want to admit that he had an unhealthy obsession with shiny things, but he knew you already learned his secret anyways.

"Now...do you know where my rings are?" You glance into his eyes, yours have a hint of amusement while his are just plain panic.

"N-No..."

Sunday looked away. You knew he was lying again. He was bad at it, and he knew that you probably knew he was acting. You couldn't help but find that adorable.

"You must have placed them in our room...maybe on the nightstand!" He stammers a bit with his lie.

This wasn't like him and he hated it, the lying was killing him even if it couldn't be helped. He knew you weren't mad, you were amused, you loved his obsessions. But he still felt out of control with himself.

"Okkk..." You hum before kissing his nose. "So if I were to...check my nightstand in an hour...would they be back?" Your eyes narrow playfully as they gaze into his.

He blushed again. He really wasn't good at lying. Especially to you...his lovely girlfriend.

"Y-yes."

He replied. Sunday still found it quite difficult to look at you in the eyes while he was embarrassed like this. Why did he even steal them in the first place?

"Alright my little dove..." You smile softly, walking to the door before stopping and looking over your shoulder. "Oh and I wanted to tell you that I hung the suit you'll be wearing up on your door for when you get ready."

"T-Thank you, darling."

Sunday sighed of relief. He thought that you were going to keep asking him for jewelry back, reminding him of his little habit for the rest of the day. Sunday stood and followed to the door to grab his suit.

He quickly decided to give you a kiss on the cheek as a way to apologize for his silly behaviour.

"Let me know when you want me to help tie your tie. I'll be in our room." You smile before walking down the corridor out of his sight.

"Mhm, will do."

Sunday let out a heavy breath. Now that you're out of his sight, he has time to collect himself. He can't stop thinking about the feeling of your skin on his lips.

His thoughts always go crazy when you're around.

After he starts to prepare himself for the event, reading over his speech, making quick changes. He finally slips his suit on before glancing into his office mirror and remembering his tie.

He walks down the corridor where you had walked a bit previously into your shared room.

Glancing in he notices you sitting at your vanity, clearly doing your last preparations as well. His eyes soften as he watches you, his beautiful dove.

Finally he cleared his throat and spoke. "Hey, darling? Do you mind helping out a bit?" Holding the tie up he blushes embarrassed.

"Hmm?" You hum looking over your shoulder and glance at his undone tie. A warm laugh escapes your lips before you nod. "Cmere honey."

He walked over to you and wrapped his arms around your back. He looked at your neck, and decided to give a little peck to it. He then hid his face in your shoulders.

"I don't know why, but I feel quite embarrassed right now. I mean I should be able to do my own tie..." Sunday sighs softly. "Please Help me out, will you darling...?" He asked softly, his hot breath against your neck.

"Of course my love..." You hum, making quick work to turn around and start tying his tie.

His eyes catch a glint of light out of the corner of them. Glancing to your vanity he notices a pair of sparkly diamond earrings, ones he bought for you no doubt.

He caught himself looking at the earrings. But he was just so tempted to take them right now, but decided to try to restrain himself.

Sunday waited patiently for you to tie his tie. He found this kind of bonding with you wholesome...if only he wasn't thinking about those damned earrings.

He couldn't handle it anymore, so when you were distracted he used his arm length to his advantage and swiped the earrings, putting them in his pocket.

Sunday felt a sense of guilt, stealing your earrings, but he also felt satisfied. He had to act normal now, and hope you didn't notice he pocketed your earrings.

"All done!" You smile brightly as you turn to the mirror to show him. "God you look so handsome..."

His blush returns, even though he's used to your compliments...he can't ever get used to the notion that you're his. "Thank you, darling. You look absolutely stunning yourself."

He said, and gave you a smile. He wrapped his arm around you and kissed your hair lightly.

You both stand there for a few minutes, gazing at the mirror and at each other. But eventually the silence had to be broken.

"Ok! Go grab your speech and we can head out!" You smile patting his chest. He nods softly before you watch him walk to the door.

Sunday was obviously trying to rush out of the room, with a sense of panic in his mind that maybe you somehow noticed the earrings he just swiped.

"Oh and Sunday?"

His body tenses as he places a hand on the doorway. He gulps a bit before turning to you. "Y-Yes honey?"

"Earrings please." You snicker before holding your hand out. Eyes amused instead of angry.

"You noticed...?"

He asked, looking at your hand nervously. He slowly reached for his pocket and took out the earrings, reaching to hand them to you while looking away. He was as red as a flame spawn...

"It's hard not to when you bumped my waist with your hand while trying to reach for them..." You roll your eyes playfully.

He looks down at the ground, his wings drooping a bit. You gently cup his face and tilt his head upwards a bit.

"I could never get mad at my cute little dove..." You kiss his cheek. "Its kinda cute..."

"Heh...you mean that?"

He let out a sigh of relief. At least you didn't get mad at him for stealing your jewelry. He still had a hint of curiosity in his eyes though, wondering just how much jewelry you had.

Instead of asking he just gave you a small peck on the nose.

"My little Halovian..." You chuckle softly. "Such a jewelry snatcher." Walking to the front door, slipping your heels on. "Is your sister also like this?"

"Oh believe me...hah, she's worse."

"...remind me to never bring jewelry around her."

"Noted, my dear."

🎀End🎀

[luveline]

Girl pls pls write stripper reader and Spencer where she thinks he would never date her bc she’s a stripper and just a sprinkle of angst with lots of comforting fluff and Spencer reassuring

thank u for requesting! ♡ fem, 1.5k

cw mentioned past domestic/workplace abuse, unhealthy eating habits

Someone broke into my apartment. 9:14AM

Spencer reads the message under the table but forgoes discretion when he registers what it says and who it's from. He excuses himself from the round table, something he isn't even sure he's allowed to do, and hurries out onto the landing. 

You answer on the second dial. "Hey, did you see my text?" you ask. 

"Are you okay?" He squeezes his phone. 

"I'm not sure. I'm fine, but my lock is busted and the door won't stay shut." 

"Where are you?" 

If you're surprised that he's steamrolling, you don't show it. Spencer leaves work to meet you at the coffee shop you've chosen for refuge, your eyes tired, a small bag of your most important possessions hanging on a slumped shoulder. He hugs you straight away. 

"I'm fine," you say into his neck. 

He hugs you tighter. "That's good," he says, feeling useless, fingers stroking little paths into your shoulders. He pictured the worst from your text, and seeing you in person is the only true mitigator. You'll talk down bruises and black eyes —you have in the past. 

He pulls the story from you as you walk back to his apartment, shoulder to shoulder in the cold street. "It was open when I got home, the door, but I did what you asked me to." 

"You didn't go in?" he confirms proudly. 

"Not at first." 

"You really won't call the police?" 

"I texted you." 

Spencer takes the strap of your bag from you and throws it over his own. "I'm not that kind of cop. I'm not really a cop at all." 

"No, you're a fed, which is worse. The girls at work told me to stay away from you." You wipe under your eyes sluggishly. Sleep clings to you like a shadow trailing behind you, ever-present. 

He puts his hand behind your back, worried you'll fall up the steps to his apartment building. "They think I'll what, extort you?" 

You shake your head, something sad in the slow side to side. "Girls like me have no business around guys like you." 

"You probably get too much business from guys like me." 

You laugh, but you both know it's not what you meant. Spencers noticed it more and more lately, nothing so obvious until now, this dead set belief you hold that he's one type of person and you're another. He gets that your work isn't what you wanted for yourself when you were growing up. He knows it isn't easy, even on your 'good' nights. It takes a toll to be seen as you are, nothing left private. But you've always said you liked stripping as much as anyone should like their job. "It's a job," you'd said, having barely known him, tired and hungry, curled up on his couch with nowhere else to go. "Only the luckiest get to really enjoy work. S'why it's called work." 

He'd hoped, perhaps in a self-absorbed way, that  having more support might make you feel better about yourself; he wanted his friendship to give you some confidence, basically. Before you met Spencer there was no one else you could depend on. It's why you stayed working for a man who broke your wrist until Spencer weaselled his way into your life and made you a bed in his living room for the time it took to get you out. His credentials helped, of course, but you survived it because you're resilient. You're awesome. You've done everything you can with what you have and you don't think it's enough. 

You and Spencer take the elevator to his floor, and for the twenty seconds it takes to get there, you let your cheek rest on his shoulder. He's just about to drop his head on top of yours when the doors open, and the slice of quiet you'd both savoured slips like sand between his fingers. 

"I can go back and get some of your stuff," he offers, guiding you the short walk to his door. He passes you the key rather than struggle with the lock himself. 

Your hand shakes as you push down the handle. "There's nothing worth going back for." 

"Don't say that, you have all your clothes there, your couch. You have things. I'll take my car." 

"You hate driving." 

"I'd hate someone robbing you even more." 

"Robbing me again," you correct, holding the door for him. 

You didn't have anything worth the trouble, it seems. You keep your savings in a locked box hidden in the bathroom that they couldn't find, and though your apartment is clean and bigger than the one you lived in before Spencer met you, it's mostly empty. You don't have a TV, you're not a collector. They took the radio off of the refrigerator, your microwave oven, and a box of cosmetic jewellery worth chapel change. 

"But it's your stuff. You deserve to have stuff." Spencer drops your bag gently and his with less care by the door. 

"It's only until the locksmith can come tomorrow," you say with a yawn. "Let the junkies lavish in my stuff for the next twenty hours." 

"That's not a problem for you?" 

"I don't have the luxury of that being a problem for me, Spence. What am I supposed to do? The locksmith can't come–" 

"There are a hundred locksmiths." 

"Not that I can afford." You shrug out of your jacket. "Spence, listen to me. It's okay. I can't ask you to do that, anyways. You've done more than enough for me already," you say, sitting on the couch. You perch for a moment like you're trying to be polite until fatigue overtakes you, and you sink into the cushions with a relieved sigh. 

Spencer crosses the space between you and kneels by your feet to untie your shoelaces. 

"Don't do that," you mumble, hand over your mouth as a second yawn in as many minutes catches you. 

"Why not?" He slips your shoes off, letting his hand rest on your ankle. "Wanna watch that weird cooking show–" 

"Why aren't you at work?" 

He climbs onto the couch next to you, unafraid to sit shoulder to shoulder. "You were having an emergency." 

You rub your face with both hand. "I knew I shouldn't have called you. You can't just leave work because of me, Spencer, what if you get in trouble?" 

"Someone I care about needed my help, and Hotch understands that." Spencer puts on his big boy pants with a wince. "Do you get that?" 

"I don't really… I don't��" You falter. "We're never going to work. You'll never…" 

"I'll never what?" he asks insistently, voice lilting up with a little incredulity. He can't help it.

You refuse to answer, turning your face from his. 

Spencer knows what you're going to say. He's bad with girls but he's good at recognising human emotion; he sees the same insecurity in himself as he does in you. He knows the feeling. 

You're not right, is the thing. 

Spencer would kiss you if he thought that would change your mind. But tired as you are, angry with yourself, defeated, he knows it's not a good idea. He takes your hand instead, sewing your fingers together with a deliberate slowness. He brings his other hand to them and strokes the back of your index finger with his thumb, careful not to disrupt your press on nails. He knows they have a tendency to come off with too much pressure, and you're always losing your glue. 

"If they really need me to go, they'll call me. But I'm staying here." His thumb moves down to your knuckle. You have little calluses and cuts and bruises everywhere from dancing. He's seen the contusions that line your thighs on a semi permanent basis. "When was the last time you had something to eat?"

"Spencer," you murmur. 

"Let me take care of you, please," he says, hand curling around your wrist with extreme gentleness. "You need to eat. You need to sleep. Let me worry about everything else for once, I want to." 

You still don't look at him, but you sink down an inch at a time until your cheek is on his shoulder again, like it had been in the elevator. Hesitant, you wrap your arm around his stomach. 

"I'm so stupid," you say. 

He wonders if that's a placeholder for what you really want to say. You think so little of yourself sometimes, but it's like you've told him before. Not everyone has the luxury of enjoying their job. 

"You're amazing." Spencer feels like he's on fire everywhere that your skin touches him. Is he saying the right things? "You are. You're the only person who doesn't see that." 

"The only person here, maybe." 

"You should always be here, then. With me. That way I can remind you." 

You sound more like yourself when you answer, though tiredness lines every word, "Thank you, Spencer. I don't deserve you." 

"Yes, you do."

Spencer rubs your hand until you fall asleep, and then he buys you a new toaster oven on his phone, and an industrial security lock. He doesn't know what it'll take to convince you that you deserve him, you deserve better, but he's gonna try. 

He presses his cheek to your temple and focuses on the softness of your skin where it touches his.  

[sleepyghostuwu]

Aventurine Headcanons: Working with him

(A/N) Just some goofy ahh headcanons I made for our goofy ahh gambler because I like him very much (I'm patiently waiting and saving up for his banner). These can be viewed from both a platonic and a romantic POV ;) Enjoy~!

Cw: Alcohol and gambling mentions, subtle spoilers to his backstory from HSR 2.1

First off, you're going to have one heck of a ride with this man

He's very snarky, so brace yourself for a hellish amount of attitude every time you interact with him for any purpose. It can and will get to the point that you actually start complaining about him at least once to your other friends and colleagues during breaks or even work itself.

Aeons forbid if aforementioned friends and colleagues counter your complaints with the argument that he's very handsome. As if being devilishly good-looking and charismatic is going to excuse his sass (Unfortunately, it does).

He can't help but chuckle whenever he finds out that you've been grumbling about him to pretty much the entire workplace. Not even the innocent janitors and cafe baristas are spared from your rants.

He also has a bad tendency to eavesdrop on your conversations whenever given the chance, solely for his entertainment.

He finds it amusing to "just so happen to pass by" when you're talking about anything (including your complaints about him messing with you), even more so when he decides to interject into the conversation when you finish talking, giving you a nasty surprise in the process.

"...I just can't stand having him around anymore!" Aventurine, who has been listening for the past 20 minutes: "Oh no, how awful of him." "SHUT UP, YOU KNOW WHAT YOU DID!"

Even when his sass continues to show itself to you, once the both of you get used to working together and get more acquainted with each other, you may even end up getting along with him pretty well, much to the surprise of both of you. Before you know it, when the time comes, the both of you are now good friends with each other.

If you think simply working with him in the same workplace is bad enough of an experience, imagine earning his friendship and unlocking a newer level of shenanigans he's about to pull off before you while you're at it.

Being more open to your company, Aventurine will make it a habit to drag you to the casino and bar after working hours to spend time with you.

You initially protest against his seemingly unhealthy obsession with gambling and alcohol, and often question out loud how his life is still put together, much to his amusement. As time passed, your nagging ceased, but of course, you still express concern towards that aspect of him.

He eagerly teaches you how to gamble your fortunes skillfully whenever you join him at the casino, but he only allows you three tries when it comes to playing around with the the assortment of gambling machines there, claiming that you were not ready to push your luck as far as he did with his.

He treats you to lots of drinks too. Being a regular at the bar, sometimes he boasts about having you as his companion to the bartender and the other patrons, much to your initial embarrassment.

He also makes outrightly crude jokes about colleagues he has beef with, after which you either burst out in boisterous laughter from the drinks and the same sense of humour, or you stare at him in disbelief and horror as you wonder if the both of you would be sued for his reckless remarks in public.

Sometimes you have to make Aventurine aware of his own alcohol tolerance as he downs one drink after another, even having to request a simple cup of soda for him to help him stay alert.

There are also times where he gets so wasted that you practically had to drag him home with you (you did not have his address) and leave him in a spare room for him to stay the night until he sobered up, something that he silently appreciates you for. In return, he genuinely tries to make work easier for you and tones down his attitude just a teeny bit as a way of showing his gratitude.

Needless to say, having you look out for him is a big win, both for you and the man himself.

If you've managed to reach this part of your relations with Aventurine, congratulations. You've hit the jackpot.

As the both of you spend more time together, bantering during working hours and (almost) getting financially and physically wasted at the casino bar every now and then, Aventurine slowly displays a starkly contrasting side of his flamboyant self.

While your initial outings with him were merely restricted to the casino bar, he gradually begins bringing you around a variety of places, most of which were noticeably quieter than what you thought was his taste.

Heck, he even brought you to the library once to read together with you, and you had trouble figuring out whether this was actually Aventurine you were going out with and not some quiet impostor from work who decided to steal you away after work.

That being said, you eventually find out that Aventurine has a much softer side of him that he has been keeping in the dark, one that he finally decided that he felt safe sharing with you.

You also find out that he likes drawing as a hobby and is surprisingly good at it, though most of the time he makes Gepard-skill level of doodles of his colleagues and higher-ups out of spite.

You joke once about sending those doodles to their respective art subjects as gifts, and when an amused Aventurine agrees, you honestly can't tell if he was playing along or seriously considering your suggestion.

Having grown closer to him, you also can't help but suddenly feel more curious about who he is, not as the extravagant and sometimes obnoxious member of the Ten Stonehearts of the IPC, but rather as a person, whatever his real name may be.

You asked him about the barcode-like tattoo on his neck once, though from the way he tensed up at your question, you decided that this man (unsurprisingly) had some walls up, and for now, it was not yours to break through by force.

On the bright side, at least you know him a lot better compared to most people around him. For Aventurine, that will be more than enough...for now.

[mamayan]

★LOVE★

Darling! Hisoka Morow x Yandere! Reader

cw: NSFW • Obsessive/Possessive Themes • Fem! Reader • Noncon turned Dubcon • Yandere Themes • Murder • Emotional Instability • Yandere! Reader • Drug usage • HC • PIV

This is not “reader” inclusive as I’d assume nearly 99.9% of you do not exhibit true yandere traits. This is written with a female yandere in mind. No other physical descriptors will be used, but “reader” will have psychological descriptors and habits which will likely not match the majority. Please keep this in mind while reading. Thank you!

To become so obsessed with a psychotic mass murdering clown magician like Hisoka, you’d need to be a special breed. Harley Quinn style if you will, but incorporating an even more massively unhealthy level of adoration and blindness.

Since Hisoka is a whimsical sociopath and amoral character, it’d likely attract someone that is… surprisingly selfless and mildly antisocial. His attitude and way of life likely trigger feelings of envy and jealousy at first within you. Why does he get to be so carefree? Why can’t you just slaughter your entire place of work when they piss you off?

So starts the morbid curiosity. Who is Hisoka Morow?

You’d see him in passing a time or two, maybe you’d even witness him kill or target an individual in battle. You’d stay undetected by Hisoka. This requires great skill in nen-ability and you’d likely be a pro-Hunter or something along those lines. You’d need to be incredibly powerful and a good strategist to have Hisoka as a darling. Specializing in stealth/tracking/spying would all do you well in aiding to observe stalk Hisoka.

He’d take a life so easily it’d stun you. His lack of remorse after even more. How does he feel so little? Why is he so easily aroused in battle? Why can’t you look away? Rationality will need to take a backseat in this budding crush you have. It won’t bloom into what you call “love” until he does something that speaks to you personally.

It’ll be entirely mundane too.

He’ll do one thing that will capture your heart. Maybe it’s when he spares Gon and Killua. He’d claim it’s because they’ll make worthy opponents later. You’ll see it as something else.

Once your feelings for him are established, it’s impossible to find fault with him anymore. Everything he does is perfect, utterly adorable and fascinating, and he’s a silly kitten who can do no wrong in your mind. His clawed finger nails are proof that the most harm he can do is claw up some curtains.

Hisoka is constantly on the move, traveling often and usually very light. He does have a few spaces he uses more like storage than actual living quarters. This where you spend time when you aren’t observing him. Going through his things, envisioning a future with him, imagining him tied to the bed.

You’ll be delusional but no so much you believe you can have him without force. Wild cats are hard to tame after all, and a superiority complex over Hisoka will begin to develop the longer you watch and learn about him. You’ll likely have dug up all the skeletons of his past. You believe you know him best, who else understands him so well but you?

This dig includes any lovers or even potential lovers. They’re in the way and need to be gotten rid of. You can’t let them ruin him now can you?

Finding all of his past lovers isn’t easy, especially without alerting him to anything suspicious at first. Thankfully, despite his track record of murders, his love life is stale at best. A few hookups when he was younger, no long term relationships, but he does have a notable relationship with a female from the Phantom Troupe.

Machi, a beautiful woman which Hisoka blatantly flirts with. More than the usual too, it holds a level of sexual tension which invokes unparalleled rage inside you. It’s ironically not directed at Machi, but she’ll bear the brunt of it anyway.

Hisoka is given both a sick and delightful surprise when Machi’s severed head is delivered to his hotel suite in a box. A love poem hand written by you in it, but it’s a warning for him too.

It’s a grotesque combination, but it’ll most certainly catch his attention. A bouquet might’ve sufficed too, but Hisoka will now know of your existence. He doesn’t think this is a love note though, he thinks this is revenge. He’ll be angry too, because whether Machi was ever a real love rival or not, she was someone he wanted to fight. His designated prey was caught and killed before he even had a true chance of tasting victory over them. That must mean you are an even better treat.

It’ll drive you wild seeing how desperate he becomes to track you down and find you. He comes close a few times too, but always just out of reach. His real niche laying in combat unlike you. It feels romantic in a sense, and it’ll drive the fantasy further that you two are meant to be together. He’s meant to be yours isn’t he? As you begin leaving even more obvious hints of your presence in his life, he’ll realize it’s not revenge you’re seeking.

He’ll figure out he’s got a perverted little stalker when he finds your cute lace panties left for him to find. No need to mention you’d touched yourself on his bed to the thought of him and came in them. It’ll be fairly obvious from the fact that he hasn’t been to this particular hideout in a while and it’s spotless. No dust. Everything perfect, but he didn’t clean before he left this one. Then he’ll see on the unmade bed, a clear sign of a woman having intruded and marked the area. Strands of your hair. Your scent. Your clothes.

Still, he won’t catch you. He’ll bait you too, and sometimes you wonder if you’ve been caught only to realize he just knows he’s always being watched now. He doesn’t know your exact location or if you actually are there. “I liked your gift… hmm, but it would’ve been a nicer surprise to see you in them~” he’s flirtation and goading. It’ll be difficult to resist him, when he’s seemingly speaking straight at you. You know the moment you reveal yourself though, he’s not going to drop to his knees and offer himself to you. It’ll be a battle on sight. Though the thought of him getting aroused because of fighting you… makes you itch to throw caution to the wind.

Instead you clear any and all traces of your presence for several long months, until Hisoka grows avidly annoyed and then slowly disinterested, moving on to other opponents and amusements. Being in your line of work means a very much endless cash flow, the resources available to keep up with your favorite pass time of just watching him in all his glory. He’s perfection, even as his face twists up into a manic monstrous expression as he slaughters his victims, you see nothing but an angel. Never mind the screams and begging for mercy, isn’t he so cute when he plays a magic trick for them? It’s easy to become overwhelmed with jealously occasionally, but you’re good at being patient and reminding yourself that person isn’t special, Hisoka is just entertaining himself.

It’s also hard to remind yourself you aren’t special either. While it takes a certain sense of superiority over a darling to develop yandere tendencies, you’re also affected by an inferiority complex about the world. This means you’re isolated in how you interact with the world, no close friends or relatives, no real hobbies outside of what assists you with your work, hardly any social interactions that aren’t required. This is what makes Hisoka so fascinating, and it’s also what starts your real downward spiral to depravity.

What makes you truly snap and lose control to your yandere tendencies , is nothing other than Hisoka himself.

He’s coming down from a recent high of a fight in Heaven’s Arena, only showing up due to being challenged as a floor master, but the fight had been surprisingly up to his standards. His opponent was both entertaining and thrilling until their end. He was in a good mood, a very good one, so when a spectator approached him batting their lashes and hinting at spending the night in his suite… he said yes.

That was strike one.

Strike two was the audacity of the piece of shit throwing themself at him. You carefully followed, silent and untraceable as sexual tension began to rise in the elevator all three of you shared. Only they thought it was just them.

Strike three. Wasn’t your presence at least somewhat obvious? It’s highly delusional on your end to become enraged at other’s ignorance to your presence despite your mastery of hiding it. It’s what allowed you to watch Hisoka so long after all, but illogical as it is, you were still pissed. Furious at both of them but now mostly at Hisoka. Who was leaning over them, letting his height and teeth aching sugary tone seduce this common stray off the street like they were his personal favorite. They weren’t. He didn’t have any real favorites. Only toys that were disposable and this was no different but it didn’t matter because he was yours. And it seemed he needed to learn this.

Even Hisoka can be taken off guard, especially with his pants feeling too tight and the piece of ass before him being all to eager to please.

He’s unconscious when you finally reveal yourself. The deafening scream echoing throughout the elevator as it finally reached Hisoka’s designated floor and opening. Unfortunately for the poor soul screaming who was just looking to get laid, you weren’t in the mood to grant them anything less than a brutal death.

“Shut up! Shut up shut up shut up shut shut up!” Your fist broke bone with each strike, until your victim lay unrecognizable and very dead. You’d released your nen, and every nen user in this entire Arena now knows you’re here, all because anger got the best of you.

It didn’t matter, because even with the corpse at your feet, you were still furious.

You took both Hisoka and the body out of the elevator and swiftly worked to clean up the damage and fluids. You didn’t need the Arena fining you again. Hisoka was out cold, but he’s quick to recover so you work on getting him into his suite and bed, working his wrists into nen blocking steel cuffs. He’s spread like a star fish, each limb hooked to the fancy bed posts. You muttered anxiously as you dug around your bag, hands shaking as you pulled out a small leather pouch about the size of your palm.

It might seem overkill, but chaining and drugging ensured your personal safety once he woke up.

Never mind the fact that you could just leave after disposing of the body. Your heart fluttering and cheeks flushing as you looked upon his unconscious body on the bed prevented you from acting within reason. No, you wanted him to see you, if for no other reason than to establish where he was.

Beneath you.

Hiding your presence and that of the corpse, you quickly left the building with Hisoka’s key card to properly rid yourself of the responsibility and allow yourself to fully focus on Hisoka.

Returning was quick and painless, this time not revealing your presence until back in Hisoka’s suite.

His face was angelic while he slept, though his head would likely ache from the powerful blow you landed to the back to get him in this state. You contented yourself with just watching him for the next hour or so, until with no warning, he woke up. It was odd how he didn’t even twitch. Just suddenly aware of his situation and surroundings, alertness to his features immediately. You wished it was a sleepier and cuter wake up, but you still found it adorable how on guard he was instantly.

Those lovely gold orbs landed on you and narrowed, despite his sly smile. He might appear relaxed and languid for someone chained up and hardly able to move their body due to relaxants circulating their system, but you knew he was furious. Hisoka, as much as he loves playing with others, hates being played with. You stayed silent, letting him observe and calculate, allowing him time to run through his options and every plausible scenario.

“Well… good morning Ms. Stalker.” His airy words sent visible shivers down your spine, his eyes and focus, for the first time entirely on you. He also seemed to note your reaction, his smile sharp and predatory. “Oh? You like the nickname? Bad girl… don’t you know not to play with magic?” He tested his restraints, with surprisingly more strength than you thought he’d have after injecting him. He’d require another dose then. You were quick to work on that, his eyes tracking your movements and realizing your objective.

“Not even going to let me play?” He didn’t resist as you sterilized his arm before injecting him with a fourth dose. Three should’ve been enough to tranquilize an elephant but Hisoka wasn’t a normal human. He flexed his hands and twisted his wrists, copying the same with his feet and ankles. The cuffs were made specifically for him. You’d kindly taken off his shoes and socks, but his shirt and pants remained on. You felt your throat constrict and thighs clench at the thought of him naked. You’d already seen it a multitude of times but he hadn’t known you did. Watching him shower and change so shamelessly.

“You look ready to eat me. Is that what this is dear? You got jealous when I brought another up here?” His nickname for you threw you off, your eyes widening and meeting his teasing gaze. He looked sinfully beautiful like this, at your mercy yet still so him. You licked your lips, feeling mildly nervous now that you were about to speak to him. This was too good an opportunity to pass up though.

“Yes,” he paused when you finally answered, “I…I was very jealous.” Your hands gripped the bottom of your shirt, the material bunching as the earlier annoyance was brought back to your attention. You grimaced, “This wasn’t really how I intended for you to meet me for the first.”

“Oh? But we’re here nonetheless aren’t we?” His tone was a bit snarky, but he was correct. What did you do now? Make every little fantasy you had come true?

“How about this, yes? You take these off and I give you a painless death. Isn’t that nice of me?” His words have your eyes snapping up to his face, his words not matching his sweet expression. He wanted to kill you? Not even fight? You frowned, a low boiling of rage in the pit of your stomach.

“You think you hold any power here?” You sneered back at him, walking to look down at his sorry figure chained up and at your mercy. He was being a brat. You backhanded him swiftly, his head cracking to the side at the force and momentum. His pale skin already reddening as a small trail of blood tricked down his chin. His gaze was on fire as he turned back to look up at you. Defiant and piercing, but his smile never wavered. “How about this, Hisoka, you stay right where you are, and maybe I’ll be nice and let you finish tonight.” His eyes widened, a small moment of shock taking over his features but he quickly schooled them again.

You began undressing swift, throwing your clothes to the floor until you were only in your underwear. Your chest heaved, nipples tightening under the cool air of the room and Hisoka’s gaze. You couldn’t place his expression exactly, a combination of desire and rage most likely. You climbed atop the bed and thus him, knees on either side of his hips as you made light work of his shirt. Shredding the garment and tossing it to join your clothes. His pants were next, now both of you almost completely naked and staring at one another.

“Is this your idea of a good time Ms. Stalker? Tying up innocent magicians and having your way with them?” You laugh at this sentence, because it was silly to think too much about. He was still being light and teasing but he was exuding a little bit of bloodlust.

“No Hisoka, my idea of a good time is just you in general.” You placed a cold hand on his abdomen, sliding it up gently until it reached his throat. “Watching you, hearing you, smelling you…” your eyes trailed up his naked torso to his lips for a moment, before connecting your gazes. “This is your fault really. I didn’t ask to be haunted by you, I didn’t ask to feel like this, I didn’t ask to want someone so badly I’d gladly watch this word burn if it meant you’d be entirely mine.” It was a deeply disturbing confession. You sat down, right over his erection where you could grind your pussy against him and elicit a beautiful hiss of pleasure and pain from him. “I can’t, oh, I can’t decide if I want to own you or be you really,” you panted, beginning a slow rock of your hips as your arousal soared. The object of all your affection beneath you, looking so much like a cat being bathed it brought a small smile to your lips. This was all turning you on, and he seemed to also be enjoying himself somewhat.

“I very much would love to humor you dear, but I really do recommend you remove these.” He dropped his facade, his expression turning dark as he realized how unlikely you were to release him. You were clearly deranged, maybe more so than himself. He tugged against his chains, the rattling echoing around the room but it only served to make you amused. Despite his words, his hips had begun to lightly buck up into you now. Both of your underwear soaked through, a combination of your slick and his precum. His voice and tone sent your hormones flying to cloud nine, your face starting to look intoxicated as you gazed down at him with obsession.

“You say you want them off but do you really want this to end? I could just… leave you here. All night. Maybe I’ll come back just to make sure you, haah, stay hard?” You were panting and a little sweaty, breasts heaving as you became more intoxicated by the moment and him. You looked spelled bound and he looked downright menacing. Of course, because out of all things, Hisoka likes control. His flirtatious attitude can not be mistaken as submissive, but here you were forcing him into such a role. Threatening him with a punishment if he didn’t behave like a dog.

It made him want to bite you like one.

“Pretty Ms. Stalker could’ve told me she wanted her little pussy filled, no need to go to such lengths-tss!” He flinched when you finally fished his cock free, your soft cool hand a striking contrast to his pulsing hot shaft.

“You’re so pretty Hisoka.” You were lost to your own fantasies, not really registering his words anymore. He realized it quickly as you focused all your attention on his leaking cock, impressed by the size and girth. It would hurt, taking him, but the thought of stretching around him was driving you wild.

But first… you dropped your chest low and opened your mouth. Your tongue had him groaning low, the sound of his teeth grinding together had you even wetter than before. You licked from base to tip, slow and sensual. He tasted sweet. Not salty or bitter like you imagined and it had you quickly and messily taking him into your mouth.

For all you were, you weren’t experienced. This was your first blowjob but you prayed not your last, because as you choked and gagged to take more him, he was losing it himself. What you lacked in experience and skill, you were making up for in enthusiasm and pure need to please. Observing his reactions as you let his tip finally sink into your throat even as tears pricked your eyes and fell down your cheeks. It burned and ached, but you pushed the pain down as you watched him. He finally gave in and kept your gaze as you worked to make him cum, sucking and taking him as deep into your throat as you could. You were making an absolute mess of his cock and balls, slobbering all over him. It was erotic and truly enticing, and the only indication he was close was the twitch of his lip and his hips trying to make you take even more of him.

You tried to get all of him in your throat when he came, but you failed by an inch or so. You stayed still as his hot cum coated your throat and mouth, moaning at his musky sweet flavor and making sure to suck and milk him for any leftover until he was choking on his own moans for you.

You made sure to clean him up nicely, licking and making sure even his balls weren’t missed. When you finally pulled back to look at him, you nearly passed out at the sight.

He was slightly sweaty, breathing a little heavier with half lidded eyes glaring and grinning viciously at you. His cheeks flushed, the left slightly bruised from your earlier hit. His lips red and bitten, a bit of blood still leftover on his chin. He looked gorgeous. You couldn’t be blamed when you were stumbling off the bed to grab your camera from your bag. No need to turn the flash off since he knows of your presence now.

He scowls as you snap his picture, looking beautiful and ruined just for you.

“I- sorry- I just need this okay?” You set the camera down, eager to return and continue touching him and exploring.

He snorted, looking at you in disbelief with mild amusement. “Is that so? You needed to photograph me naked?”

“What? No. I have lots of those already. I wanted one of your face after I made you cum.” He seemed flabbergasted at your answer, but you couldn’t help your eager hands from cupping his cheeks and leaned down over his face. “You’re just so pretty I can’t help it.” You told him honestly, his expression relaxing into something neutral as he observes you. Fine by you, as you begin kissing his face, hair, cheek you hit and then his neck. You lick and suck over his pulse, enjoying the masculine groan as you mark him up and lick his sweat. You’re trembling as you wiggle down to his chest, playing with his nipples. Swirling your tongue elicits the best response, his back arching lightly and proving your theory that his nipples are sensitive.

His hardening cock beneath you all the proof you need, your own nipples pebbled and aching as you drag your chest against his while you work.

When he bucks up again underneath you, you finally release his nipple with a pop. Looking at his tossed and adorably fucked appearance, you shiver. His hair messy from throwing his head into the pillows. You licked your lips, finally clumsily trying to get out of your underwear but failing because of your position. With a huff of annoyance you just tore them off, finally completely naked and slightly embarrassed by his stare.

It hardly mattered if he liked what he saw, you weren’t so far gone that you thought you looked anything like his earlier willing catch which you’d crushed- “Pretty thing aren’t you?” You paused your internal rambling when he spoke. His voice low and husky, not as flirtatious and teasing like his usual tone. You’d never heard him use this voice before, you eyes meeting his with curiosity.

He chuckled, but his bloodlust from earlier was gone like it had never happened, “What’s wrong? You were so eager just a moment ago, don’t tell me you’re shy now? Is Ms. Stalker a virgin?”

His goading voice was back, covering up his earlier tone like it’d been a mistake. Though you were surprised he hit the nail on the head. You were a virgin. Not because you lacked people willing to fuck you, but because you lacked interpersonal skills to have a normal relationship. Intimacy terrified you before you’d fallen for Hisoka, but after it was all you seemed to want. To touch him, feel him, make him feel good. You wanted him desperately.

“I won’t be much longer.” You looked away and solidified your resolve as you moved to hover above him again, your dripping cunt begging to be filled. You balanced using one hand on his hip, the other gripping his once more hard cock and lining him up with your entrance. You let his tip brush through your sensitive folds as you shakily released a breath. You took one small peak at his face, his eyes watching you like how a hawk might watch it’s prey.

You let his tip breach your entrance, no surprise that it stung. You didn’t prep yourself at all, and though you were wet enough, you wished you’d thought to carry a little lube in case this scenario ever occurred. It didn’t matter though because even if it hurt you were being connected to him and it made your chest swell with pride and happiness.

“Fuck, you’re tight- ah” he threw his head back and grit his teeth again, your gummy walls simultaneously sucking him in and pushing him out. It had him close already embarrassingly enough. The pleasure and pain mind numbing.

You’d only taken half of him but it was leaving you breathless, “m’trying” you could only gasp as you struggled to push more of him in, tears pricking your eyes once more as the pure stretch of his cock inside you was turning your brain off. It hurt but it felt good too.

“If you take these off, I’ll happily finish the job you’ve started dear~” Despite his tone, his face looked just as aroused and strained as your own. It was tempting, but deep down you really didn’t trust him. It came from knowing him that you didn’t trust him in the least. You shook your head, denying his prompting. His laugh is dark, even as his hips surge up to force another few inches into you. You cry out, bracing against his chest as you fall forward a bit. He does it again, sinking into you until finally you feel your hips meet and his tip kiss deeply into your cervix. You lay panting against his chest for a moment as his cock pulses inside you, your body pathetically struggling to adjust to his size.

“Take them off while I’m being nice.” He’s not asking, but still you shake your head and push yourself up, moaning as he sinks even deeper. Your hips take on an unsteady rhythm, testing the depth that feels the best but his hips throw you off each time you find the perfect angle. The stretch and friction drive you wild, your mind numbing to the pain and pleasure as you feel the coil inside you close to snapping.

“Feels good~” your moaning loudly, face fucked out and teary eyes locking with Hisoka’s. His eyes are burning, face scrunched up in frustration because your pace isn’t quite fast enough, nor is he hitting as deep as he’d like. His chains clink against the steel posts, you’re too distracted though to pay attention as you desperately work your hips towards your finish, bouncing on his dick. “M’gonna cum Hisoka” your deliriously close, the coil right about to snap-

When his chains do first.

“Huh,” You only get a split second to panic before he’s on you, breaking each steel bedpost and freeing his movement up again. His cuffs are still secured for a second but it’s meaningless a moment later when they shatter. His nen stored up enough to cancel their purpose of restraining him despite how much you’d paid that specialist who guaranteed no one could get out of them. Never mind that he should still be drugged up enough to he struggling to move at all.

You find your positions switched, your back hitting the mattress as you gaze up into his eyes now.

It’s silent for a moment, save your own pounding heart and icy fear now filling your veins. He just… looks at you. His face blank, eyes calculating but just when you decide it’s best to fight than let him slaughter you like this, he laughs.

Not like normal. This is borderline hysterical laughter, his hand wrapping around his torso as he howls with laughter.

Before you can activate your ability, he’s got a hand wrapped around your throat and squeezing just enough to warn you. “Did you think this would all just work out how you wanted dear?” You were scared, that was true, but as he nudged your thighs apart and dragged his still hard cock through your folds teasingly, you realized you were also horrifically aroused too.

All of your fantasies had you on top, because you didn’t trust him not to kill you if he was, if he even wanted to willingly touch you at all.

“Look at you~ poor thing,” he’s mockingly sweet as he leans over you, long tongue coming out to lick your tears off your cheek. As he leaned back, you truly didn’t expect his hand to leave your neck and slap you across the face. The sting follows after his hit lands, but it shocks you silly more than it actually hurts. You don’t have too long to think before he’s shoving himself back in, and your too far gone to stop the orgasm that slams into you. “Wait!” It too late even as you cry out, hands desperately grabbing on to something to anchor you. Him.

He hisses, face vicious as he stares down at you, “Did you really just cum?” His voice somewhat incredulous as he feels you twitch and writhe beneath him. He stayed still, letting you shakily come down from your high before he’s rocking into you.

Then he’s fucking you just how he likes. Hands gripping your hips in a death grip as he slams himself into your overstimulated cunt over and over. He leaves you mewling and fucked stupid beneath him as he mercilessly thrusts into you like a rag doll. You can’t keep up. Can hardly speak besides useless babbling, only making him laugh and sarcastically mock you for it.

“What’s wrong dear? Isn’t this what you wanted? Am I just so deep inside you~?” Cooing as you nod and cry harder.

It’s when he kisses you that you cum again. He tastes like bubblegum and you’re gone, creaming his cock as his tongue tangled with you own messily. It all feels too good, your arms wrapping around his neck, legs around his waist, while you just struggle to take it. His tip pounding away in a spot that has you gasping and sobbing below him, because despite everything, this is the most pleasure you’d ever felt. It was disorienting and left you mildly numb, his sharp claws trailing down your chest softly to settle his thumb over your clit and press until you came again.

This one was slightly painful, your muscles constricting so hard Hisoka finally fell over the edge himself. His moans so pretty, soft and deep as his hips still move despite him emptying himself inside you.

He recovers first, staring down at the pretty thing in his arms struggling to catch her breath.

You’d given quite the headache for a while now, but tonight really took everything up a notch. You certainly weren’t halfhearted, something of which he respected. You weren’t a weak thing either, his thrusts harsh enough to break a normal human’s hips, but you just looked fucked stupid. It was cruel of him to be so rough, but then again you’d really brought it on yourself hadn’t you?

You’d brought all this onto yourself, and whatever happened in the future too.

Because now he was a little hooked as well, and you were just too cute and interesting to leave alone now that he’s tasted you. Had you first.

He easily reached over to snag your camera, switching it on and snapping a picture of you still shaking and twitching with his cock still buried inside you and beginning to grow hard again.

Realization dawned on you, but even as you tried to move and get away from him, he had your wrist locked above your head to stop that nonsense.

“Nu-uh dear, I’m not finished. Not even a little.” His lustful gaze and sadistic smirk had you looking like a frightened animal, but it only served to rile him up further.

It’s after all, your fault for loving someone like him, right?

It’s important to note that once Hisoka becomes interested, he treasures it. But something he treasures one day can become trash the next… until you.

Hisoka is surprisingly a willing darling. Don’t think this reverses any roles, he’s not submissive to you in the slightest. He acts like a total brat but he’s dominant through and through, don’t expect to ride him unless he’s got full control to just fuck up into you.

He’s needier than you’d expect too. Not just with sex, that’s constant, but also in just having your company. He likes when you talk to him, interact with him, don’t expect to go back into observing from the sidelines. He’s all to happy to give you front row seats.

He’s just as jealous as you are, but he’ll purposely play into your jealousy by flirting with other women to rile you up. He just likes how you look enraged, finds it cute. If you do the same, he’ll make that individual sit tied to a chair while he fucks you in front of them until you can’t even apologize anymore. Then he’ll kill them. He welcomes the same treatment. You get a bit shy acting it out.

Bonnie and Clyde duo!

He’s not a yandere, though he gets jealous, he’s just a psychopath in general. He’ll still be Hisoka no matter what. While you can interact normally with others when necessary, your fixation on him will remain an outlier. Hisoka is just trash to everyone, and surprisingly decent to you. By your low standards.

He likes ice-cream and ice-cream dates. He’s an ice-cream date man.

Illumi doesn’t understand your relationship but respects your devotion. Wonders why more women can’t be like you. Hisoka likes that his friend is envious of what he has.

Enjoy your darling, he’s frustrating and difficult but all yours now!

Dividers by @benkeibear

[meowzfordayz]

when you're apart

Author’s Note: is my Sanemi favoritism showing? 🤍 Spoiler Alert: yes. 😂 Don’t mind my psychology major brain showing ~a bit too. 🤓

when you’re apart

Hashira x Reader

Word Count: ~1,300

CW: anxiety disorder, explicit language, mild sexual content

Emergency Request Fulfilled: I was wondering if you could do how the men hashira react to a female reader with separation anxiety

I have a fear of being alone which makes me very clingy. My longtime boyfriend recently broke up with me due to me being “to much to deal with.”

Being clingy is such a bother I know I just hate being alone

~faqs~

When you’re apart…

… Gyomei doesn’t mind receiving calls from you throughout the day. He’s endlessly patient, always willing to listen, and warns you in advance if he can’t talk for long. His strategy for setting and respecting boundaries? Planning ahead and communicating his availability to make sure you feel prioritized and included in his decision making, while still fulfilling his own wants and needs.

… Obanai dislikes it as much as you do, but is ~somewhat more subtle about it. He, at least, has Kaburamura to keep him company, but kissing you is decidedly more pleasant. He’s mindful about maintaining healthy boundaries and expectations—he knows codependency shouldn’t be romanticized—but he’s also so wholly in love with you, that sometimes he gives up and surprises you anyway. “Obanai? You’re two hours early?? Are you okay???” He nods sheepishly, already pulling you into a hug, “I’m fine. Missed you.” “Is Sanemi going to complain to me the next time I see him?” you sigh, scrunched grin revealing your contentment despite the exasperation in your tone. “Probably, I don’t care. I left him enough to cover more than my share of the tab.”

… Mitsuri totally understands your anxiety, and is lovingly firm about ensuring you don’t slip into unhealthy habits. “You can text me anytime, but only call if there’s an emergency, okay?” she murmurs, pressing a soft kiss to your earlobe. You nod slightly, resisting the urge to pout. “I’ll be home before you know it.” Even though it stings, you know it’s never personal. Her willingness to draw straightforward boundaries, as well as her willingness to cross them if you’re truly upset, are just another reason to cherish her.

… Shinobu checks in every couple of hours. Sometimes it’s just a single sentence text, other times a quick call, but she knows how important feeling connected is to you. It’s important to her too, of course, but she’s apt to lose track of time when she’s at the hospital or her lab—she enjoys her work—so she puts in conscious effort to be proactive about your anxiety. When she anticipates a busier or longer day, she’ll ask, “Is it okay if I only check in during meals today?” Generally, you’ll reassure her that, “Absolutely, I’m so proud of you,” and if you’re having a low day, then she always figures out a compromise with you before she leaves.

… Kyojuro unknowingly reassures you, because—apparently—everything reminds him of you. Whether it’s a photo of a flower shortly after he arrives at work Pretty flower, but you’re prettier 🌻, a photo of the sky during his lunch break The cloud formations remind me of you, so soft and mesmerizing ☁️, or a blurry selfie as he finally heads home for the day Cannot wait to see you! 😁, you’re kept in the loop. The one time his phone fell into a puddle (he was trying to photograph a reflection of willow branches Elegant and dreamy, like you 🌿), he immediately visited the nearest shop to borrow their landline Hi, yes, how are you today? Would it be possible for me to make a call? I am happy to purchase something. I would just like to tell my partner that I will be unavailable for the day.

… Sanemi often forgets to explicitly text, call, or otherwise contact you. He doesn’t mean to aggravate your anxiety: he just doesn’t quite ~get it, and assumes it stems from insecurity or jealousy — which also confuses him. “You have nothing to worry about. How could I fall in love with someone else when I’m already in love with you?” he snorts, lightly tapping your nose. “That’s not…” you bite at your lip, unsure how to explain yourself. “I’m not big on texting, you know that. It’s not that I specifically dislike texting you.” You smile despite yourself, eyes rolling fondly, “I know it’s not specific to me.” “So then what’s the issue?” he’s determined to understand. “I’m afraid of being alone,” you shrug, gesturing vaguely, “Don’t worry about it. It’s nothing.” Arms crossing, he leans in, forehead bumping yours, voice warm and low on your skin as you gulp, “It’s okay to be afraid of things, and being afraid isn’t nothing.” Arms uncrossing, he settles his hands on your hips, kneading gently as he pulls back slightly, fixing an even gaze on your flushed expression, “I can’t be with you all the time, but I can promise that I love you and think about you.” “All the time?” you ask quietly. It’s his turn to blush, eyes closing as he dips his face into your neck, muttering softly, “All the damn time.”

… Muichiro is a bit absentminded, and rarely thinks to check his phone, but he sets reminders—around noon, and later in the afternoon—to make up for it. If he’s occupied and misses his usual look-at-his-phone time(s), then he’s never bothered by a call from you coming through (besides your number, his phone’s always on Do Not Disturb). In the bathroom? He’ll pick up. About to bite into his lunch? He’ll put it aside. Presenting during a meeting? He’ll literally answer his phone mid sentence, and leave the room (creative liberty: thank gosh he’s the boss hah). He’s aware of his head-in-the-clouds tendencies, just as he’s aware of your anxiety, and feels that having a specific routine is perfectly fair: if he forgets to uphold his end of your expectations, then you’ve every right to remind him. Conversely, if he’s feeling overwhelmed, he’s more than capable of reasserting his own needs — an infinite practice of mutual respect and taking necessary space.

… Giyuu feels uneasy too, but his discomfort stems primarily from how most people tend to socially drain him — you’re one of few that he can feel both stimulated and rested around. Therefore, if it’s a spend-time-with-you versus spend-time-around-others situation, then he’d prefer to be with you. Spend-time-with-you versus spend-time-by-himself situations are more complicated. It takes a lot of discussion, some heavy evenings apart, and tense evenings together, but you gradually nurture a shared understanding and acceptance of your varying needs. He’s always happy to reassure you that I’m not upset with you, nor am I tired of you; I’m just tired, while you’re slowly learning to trust him and his commitment to loving you.

… Tengen could care less about how clingy you are. Super duper clingy? He loves it. Not clingy at all? He’s cool and confident — he knows you adore him as much as he adores you. His easygoingness, however, isn’t the most productive in terms of processing and reducing your overall anxiety. In fact, you eventually have to tell him that he shouldn’t answer your texts or calls immediately, every single time, without a hint of irritation, because it reinforces your self soothing behaviors. “But I’m happy to?!” he grins, kissing the top of your head. “I know, and I appreciate you,” you chuckle, tucked snugly into his side, “But I don’t want to feel afraid of being alone-” “Sooo don’t be alone!” he interrupts enthusiastically, “Again, I’m happy to keep you company!” Inhaling deeply, you gently grip his jaw, a silent request for him to focus, “And again, I appreciate you, but sometimes I have to feel afraid to stop feeling afraid. If I’m never alone, then I can’t ever feel afraid,” hesitating, voice softer now, “And I know you’ll promise to never leave me, but shit happens. Y’know?” He’s silent, maroon eyes steady and tender as he holds your gaze. Before you can nervously murmur Tengen?, he touches his nose to your forehead, still smiling. “I love you. I’ll do my best to help, even from a distance.” “Well don’t go too far away,” you quip. “Of course not,” he laughs, “I’ll just go wherever you tell me to,” declared earnest and true.

[merakiui]

[viii.] ᵗʰᵉ ᵇᵘᵗᶜʰᵉʳᵉᵈ

serial killer!jade leech x female!reader cw: yandere, unhealthy behaviors/relationship, kidnapping/captivity, descriptions of murder/death, violence, strangulation chapter vii│chapter viii (you are here)│chapter ix

Today’s Thought - As biology would have it, the moray eel is cowardly by nature. Somehow this facet doesn’t apply to a certain someone. What he lacks in cowardice, he makes up for in cruelty.

The three days that follow the first feel like a blurred eternity, and you only know it’s been three because Jade’s explained your daily horoscope thrice now. The first: Do your best and your days will be fortuitous. You’re walking the path to success. The second: You may feel gloomy with the shifting skies. Rainfall may evoke sadness, but the secrets you hide from that important someone will seem even sadder. And the third (today’s prediction): There’s a chance you might find luck in uncertain situations.

These horoscopes might have provided you with a shred of relief if it weren’t for the fact that your slumber has been mostly dreamless ever since that last obscure nightmare, and so you don’t have anything to compare them to. No jellyfish. No strangers sitting at dinner tables. No blue hues for you to contemplate.

You’ve read through A Hiker’s Guide twice in the span of forty-eight hours, committing fungi facts to memory as if they’ll serve any purpose while you remain shackled in captivity. But it keeps you occupied and smothers any morbid thoughts threatening to spill into your skull. Which is what you really need right now—the sweet sense of comfort and contentment.

Jade upheld his end of your bargain yesterday when he poked his head inside the bathroom, presenting the white suit coat Azul had worn the night he faux-proposed. You kept your complaints to yourself, silently scorning him while he draped it across your shoulders. It’s an expensive brand sewn from luxurious fabrics you’d never be able to afford no matter how many extra shifts you pick up at The Devil’s Delight.

Out of habit, you’re attempting to calculate how many times you’d need to sleep with Azul in hopes of convincing him to buy you an outfit of equal grandeur. Your logic tells you multiple times for every pretty button and precise stitch, but your heart tells you it would only take a simple question and a sincere smooch to string him along. He opens his wallet for you as easily as you open your legs for him. 

But that’s just part of the agreement, you remind yourself, petting the silky sleeve like it’s a cat. Stop thinking about him. Focus on other things.

You lift your gaze towards the door.

I wonder what Riddle’s up to. We were supposed to meet up on Saturday. He’s probably angry I couldn’t make it. Or maybe he’s worried I’m not showing up to work. Shaking your head, you scoff bitterly. No, he’s not worried. He’s Riddle. He never worries about distractions like me. He has everything laid out so perfectly. You toy with one of the exquisite cuffs on the jacket, twisting it between your fingers. I guess when you’re that meticulous you never have to worry about anything because, no matter what happens, you’re following a familiar schedule. So even if things don’t go to plan, you can just move to the next item on your list.

You slouch against the wall and sigh.

Maybe it’s better to live repetitive days. It’s boring, but it’s safe.

Before you can start weighing the positives and negatives to that thought, a noise from below resounds. You scramble away from the sink, mindful of your bandaged ankle, and force yourself flat like a pancake, your ear pressed against the tiles. The air is still, your breath is hitched, and then there are footsteps. Four in total. You assume he’s taking off his shoes because there’s a disconcerting quiet that follows. Seconds later, you strain to hear the door as it shuts and locks with a click. 

And then there is more silence. 

Something’s not right, you think, chewing your lip. Anxiety bubbles in your blood, volcanically volatile. He’s not coming upstairs.

You push yourself up onto your arms and retreat to the space between the bathtub and sink.

He always comes upstairs to check on me when he gets home. Right away. So why isn’t he? What’s going on? You shake your head and dig your nails into your arms. Don’t panic. Maybe he’s preparing another meal? But he usually eats before work. At least, that’s what he’s done with me ever since the first day. Maybe he didn’t have work. Maybe he went out to do something. But what? Cover his tracks? Kill someone? Make sure there are no witnesses from that night? Kill someone? Your grip on Azul’s jacket tightens. Relax. Take a breath and think about it logically. He can’t do anything rash. Not when he’s just kidnapped me. Someone must have made a missing report by now, so he has to be careful.

Your eyes slide about the room, inspecting the framed sketches once more. What if it’s the afternoon? He could make up any time he wants and I’d have no choice but to believe him. He could’ve gone out for lunch, or he met up with Azul for the daily walks we usually do. Right. Azul. He has to know something’s up. He has to… Wait.

The realization is glacial, stabbing through your skull mercilessly: He won’t suspect anything because disappearing like this is a routine he’s all too familiar with. In his eyes, I’m just—

Footsteps on the stairs shake you from your theorizing, and you brace yourself for the sight of him. You hope to shrink yourself to a size so small and imperceivable that no one, not even the most keen, cutthroat killer, could find you. You succeed in huddling in on yourself, a ball of tightened nerves just waiting to unfurl at the slightest hint of danger. Sweat beads on your brow and slithers down your spine. The hair on your body stands on end, as if expecting the swift strike of a terrifying tragedy.

Something’s not right.

The knob turns. There he stands in the sliver of space between door and bedroom, backdropped by dim lamplight. He’s dressed plainly in a black hoodie and sweatpants of the same color. It’s arguably the most casual you’ve ever seen him look. And in his arms, held bridal style and slumped like a boneless fish, is a woman. 

Your gaze is drawn to the way her shirt stretches tautly over her abdomen—over the rounded dome that is her stomach—and dread crystallizes your blood. Suppressing a shiver, you meet his stare. A smile slowly crawls onto his lips, and then he steps deeper into the bathroom, pulling the shower curtain aside and lowering the woman into the tub. Tape is plastered to her mouth, and her wrists and legs are bound with expert knots. Just looking at her and the state she’s in makes you sick with discomfort.

“Who… W-Who the hell is that?”

“A roommate,” he replies, all too smooth. “It’s only temporary, so you needn’t get so territorial.”

There’s no way. He’s actually planning to… 

Bile rises in your throat, and before you can stop yourself you’re leaning over the toilet to retch. Saliva dribbles down your chin, landing in the bowl below in a downpour of gross, acidic rain. A petrifying tremor shudders through your body, and you steady yourself against the toilet, coughing until tears gather in your vision and your throat aches. You smack your hand against the handle to flush the physical manifestations of your horror away. Down it goes, never to be seen again.

“Your little parasite doesn’t seem very fond of her,” Jade remarks, standing over you like a patient reaper of death. “There can only be room for one, no?”

You crane your neck to peer at him. “F-Fuck you.”

He smiles thinly, his eyes creasing with manufactured mirth. “It’s just a coincidence.”

“Coincidence, my ass.” With a dark scowl, you wipe the spit from your mouth with a shaky hand. You drag yourself away from the toilet, tasting residual vomit on your tongue. “You can’t hurt her. She… She’s pregnant, Jade. There’s no way you can—”

“She isn’t you. If I recall, I only agreed to keep you alive.” Jade slips his gloves off, drapes them in the basin, and then lathers his hands with soap. His movements are mechanically meticulous, as if these motions have been preprogrammed. Even the way he dries his hands is unnatural. Too prim. Too perfect. “As far as I’m concerned, she’s nothing like you.”

“Why? Because she didn’t kick your ass when you showed up to kidnap her?”

Jade exhales an amused breath. “Of course not.” His eyes frost over when he turns his stare on you. “She never got the chance. Besides, if my ass had been sufficiently kicked, you wouldn’t be here right now.”

“I hope you choke on a fingerbone.”

“That would be most unfortunate. I’ll be sure to eat carefully.”

Peering at himself in the mirror, he smooths his hair down. You didn’t realize it was tousled to begin with. Now that you’re looking, his entire person seems…messy. Even that stray strand falls on the wrong side.

He definitely didn’t go to work, you conclude, studying his features from behind. He’s too casual. It’s hard to imagine Jade in anything other than uniforms. Did he go out with that lady? Maybe not. He seems like the type to dress nicely for dates. So a sweatshirt and sweatpants… They’re both easy to move around in, and he’s wearing dark colors to blend into the night. Did he grab her when she was least expecting it? He said she wasn’t given a chance to fight back, so a struggle was nonexistent. 

You shake your head, unsatisfied with your deduction. I’m missing something. His appearance is messy, but he’s always so clean. So why is he messy? This isn’t making sense.

“How’d you find her? You must’ve planned this in advance.”

“I assure you I’m not seeing other women behind your back.”

“Like hell I’m jealous, you creep.”

He chuckles and leans against the sink, his arms folding easily. “A magician never reveals his secrets.” “Magicians and murderers are two different things.”

“Aren’t they skilled in making things vanish? Both captivate their respective audiences as well.”

“Do you not see how vastly different the two are?” Groaning, you rest your head against the wall. “Did you seduce her?”

“Someone’s curious.”

“What’s her name? Do you even know where she’s from or what she’s been through? You’re taking an entire life away, Jade.”

“Two, actually.”

“That’s even worse! Do you hear yourself right now? You’re insane!”

“Has it ever occurred to you that your morals might not have any influence on what I do?”

He’s doing this on purpose. He could’ve brought anyone home, but it just had to be a pregnant lady.

“You’re sick.”

“Do you truly think so?”

“No sane, healthy person would do this.”

Jade feigns a sad pout and wipes nonexistent tears from his eyes. “To hear you say such things… My heart breaks.”

I hope someone chops you up, you lunatic! Then you can know what it’s like!

“So what’s the plan? She’s stuck here like me?”

“Not for long.”

“You’re really going to kill her?”

“Is that not obvious?”

You glance at the tub. I have to do something. But what? You look around the bathroom, eyeing the frames, the sink, the toilet, the walk-in shower, the tiled floor… Can I kill him? Shatter one of the pictures, grab the biggest shard of glass, and then—

Jade bends down to your height. “You needn’t look so pensive. There’s nothing you can do, and if you try anything I’ll be sure to slaughter you in the most gruesome way at the end of these nine months.” He smiles like it’s not the most sinister threat. “And I’ll watch you bleed out slowly while I cut your skin away in delicate slivers. So if you value a quick, painless death, do yourself a favor and keep your hands to yourself.”

You drag your legs into your chest. You sick freak. His eyes crawl down your face to observe your bandaged ankle. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you.

“That should be enough of a reminder.”

“I’m not stupid. I’m not going to do anything. I can’t.”

I want to, though. I have to.

But there’s the shackle and the chain, restricting your movement and trapping you in the bathroom. There’s also the very heartless serial killer, who values your life as much as one does a meal. Voraciously. That’s as far as his sympathy extends. He doesn’t care about you or your nonexistent baby. You’re not even a person.

To him, you’re just supermarket meat plucked from the street. The most dangerous game he’s ever hunted.

“Good to know.” Pleased with your submission, he rises to his usual height and makes for the door. “Does it hurt?”

“A little.”

“Allow me to retrieve some painkillers.”

“If it puts me to sleep—”

“Rest assured. I have no intention of doing that. Too much and you may never wake again. That, and I’d prefer a meal without unnecessary baggage.”

“Then don’t drug me if you want fresh, healthy meat.”

He says nothing, merely smiling in reply, and departs through his bedroom. You listen to his retreating steps and then, after determining he’s made it downstairs, you drag yourself over to the tub. You yank the tarp-turned-curtain aside and peer down at her.

“Excuse me?” You reach in to nudge her arm. “Miss, are you awake? Please wake up.”

She doesn’t stir. Your gaze sweeps over her face. She doesn’t look bruised or battered. In fact, she’s in much nicer shape than you were when Jade took you.

It couldn’t have been a date or any sort of formal event. Not by chance either… So what is it? What am I not seeing?

You stare at her bump and frown. I’m pretending to be in her position, but she’s actually pregnant. If anyone deserves to get out of this alive, it’s her and her baby.

You shake that thought out of your head next, replacing it with something detached. You have to be logical. In tragic situations, it’s everyone for themself. What if your roles were swapped? Would she feel the same? You’d hope so, but maybe she’d be just like you—someone who’d do anything to survive, even if that was at the cost of another’s sacrifice. It’s not fair, but there’s nothing you can do. She’s doomed.

“Fuck,” you mutter, curling your fingers around the lip of the tub.

I can’t watch an innocent woman die. I have to do something.

Footsteps draw near. You scramble to your corner. Jade returns with two tablets and a glass of water. You down the painkillers in one gulp.

If it knocks me out, at least I won’t have to see anything.

You rest your forehead against your knees. “I wish Azul was here.”

Why am I saying that? Do I really want him here? Maybe Cater would be better. Or Riddle. Anyone but Azul.

“My apologies. The withdrawal must make you feel immensely itchy.” He peers at the tub. You realize you forgot to pull the tarp back to its original place. “Consider this the beginning of your detox.”

“You’re selfish, you know that? I have my entire life ahead of me. I have—” you rub the cold sapphire set into the ring on your finger— “I had a wedding to look forward to. Someone I was going to marry. A baby! And you…” Before you can stop yourself, the tears are falling. Weeks of pent-up emotions overflow. You wipe hopelessly at your face, feeling pathetic for crying in front of him when he could care less, but the rivers continue running. “Y-You fucking took that away from me! And I can’t—it’s all so you can feed yourself.”

You dig the heels of your palms into your eyes and weep like a child. The voice in your head soothes you: You have time. You can still get out of this.

When you pull your arms away, you find Jade gazing at you. “If I’m as selfish as you say, what does that make you?” He pulls his sweatshirt up and over his head, and then you see it. The dress shirt.

A pit opens in your stomach. You feel sickness scraping at your throat again, and the sensation persists when he shucks his sweats next.

All this time, he was in formal attire…

“I have no interest in your affair with Azul. Rather, I find the entire thing quite circular. You were loosely attached once, but now you’re engaged. And then what? Are you going to run away when he does something unfavorable? You have the makings of a most atrocious bride.” Casually, as if this is a conversation held over afternoon tea, Jade folds the clothes and sets them on the towel rack. “I suppose that is just the nature of love. You return like the leashed pet you are and you let him love you because you are just as foolishly fond.”

That’s not true. You’re wrong. I don’t love him. I’ve never loved him.

“Ah, but this is just mere speculation based on what I’ve witnessed.”

“Stalker.”

“Not quite. Do you know how many times I’ve helped you—drunk, dazed, vulnerable you—and you never thought otherwise? I put you to bed. I did your laundry. I stayed by your side and cooked breakfast in the wake of your hangover. For so many years, I’ve beheld the (Name) who thinks she’s loved by all because she doesn’t love herself enough.” At your horrified expression, he laughs. “You like to babble when you’re inebriated. It’s very entertaining… What was it you told me a few months ago? That you’re a nothing human with an empty, ugly heart who isn’t worthy of Azul’s boundless generosity. That you pawn it for lust disguised as love because you can’t afford the real thing. That you—”

He sidesteps the glass you throw at him. It hits the floor and shatters with a splash. Glass shards slide across slick tiles. He watches you silently, his countenance unreadable.

“Shut up!” Odium darkens your face. You inhale a ragged breath, collecting what’s left of your tattered ego, and add in a shaky voice, “You don’t know me. You’ve never known me.”

“Perhaps not.” Jade leans down to smile at you. He’s close, but he doesn’t touch you. You challenge him with a mean scowl. “But I will soon.”

Before you can question that, a soft groan interrupts your discussion. Your head snaps over in the direction of the tub. Jade does much the same, only he moves slower. There’s a pregnant pause, tension crackling in the air, and then there’s movement. The woman struggles in the bath, her screams muffled against the tape. You wince, understanding her horror.

I know what that’s like.

Jade helps her sit up. She resists, shaking her head desperately and shrinking away from his hands as if they’re something monstrous. They are, technically. Her eyes meet yours then. Even though it’s a wordless exchange, everything you need to know shines on her tear-stained face. Her brows are pinched together in stressed disbelief. She’s trembling.

“If you promise to be quiet, I’ll remove the tape.”

Upon hearing that familiar phrase, you shudder. It seems to have the same effect on the woman. She looks at him and whimpers.

“P-Please listen to him,” you speak up, nodding encouragingly. “Don’t fight. It’ll make it worse.”

She spots your bandaged ankle and gazes at Jade with new terror shining in her brown eyes. They’re very pretty. Big and beautiful, almost like marbles. To think the last things she’ll ever see with such doll-like eyes are a hungry monster and a hapless captive.

Jade peels the tape off slowly and, unlike you, she keeps her mouth shut. A wise decision. You don’t want to think about what he might do to keep her quiet.

“There. That wasn’t so hard, was it?” Jade sets the sliver of tape aside. “Now then, I believe introductions are in order.”

“I… I don’t understand,” she whispers, pressing herself against a corner of the tub. “Why am I here? You told me you’d take me to a doctor. Y-You said you’d help me—”

“He’s a liar.” You fold your arms over your chest and huff. The woman’s expression falls. “It’s not your fault. I thought he was good, too.”

“So then—I’m just—why am I here? W-Why are you here?”

Jade steps in front of you to block your view of the distraught woman. “(Name) is my housemate—”

“Not by choice.”

“Still a housemate nonetheless,” he continues. “You’re here because I’m in need of a meal.”

“You’re…hungry? Is that… You’re serious? Is that really what this is about?” She shifts awkwardly in her restraints. You feel bad for her, even more so when you catch the hope bleeding into her voice. “Then, if that’s the case, I’ll cook something for you and you can let me go!”

Jade shakes his head.

You peer past his legs at her. “He’s going to kill and eat you.”

He frowns at you. “And I was intending to bask in the suspense…”

“You’re the worst. Genuinely.”

“I don’t understand… You’re…” She looks between you and Jade. Her eyes gloss over with fresh tears. “You’re going to kill me…”

“Indeed. Ah, but don’t look so disheartened. So long as you continue being good, I’ll grant you a painless death.”

“N-No way… I… I don’t wanna die. Please. M-My baby—I can’t—”

She breaks off with a choked sob. You watch her crumble without a word. It hurts to see her shoulders shake with every rattling inhale. It hurts even more knowing you’re just as stuck but temporarily spared. You glance at Jade to gauge his reaction. Like always, it’s impossible to read him. He’s always been like that, even before you found yourself trapped here. Smiling so sweetly, as if he isn’t a murderer, he would speak to you like a normal person, tease you like a friend, care for you when Azul couldn’t. You were so certain he was your friend—not just by way of association through Azul either.

He hid it—this massive, life-altering skeleton—like an expert. How did you miss it? What did you fail to catch?

Nothing. Because he never gave any indication of what was locked up behind unassuming closet doors.

Now you know better. So does this woman.

“I won’t tell anyone. I promise I won’t, so please let me go. Please, sir. My baby…”

Jade remains unfazed. “(Name) already tried those lines. Care to guess how well they worked?”

Landed me nine months on death row. 

She hangs her head in defeat. “I can’t believe it… I’m actually… This is it.”

You rest your head against the wall and sigh. Jade stares a moment longer before striding to the door.

“I’ll give you time to get acquainted.”

With that, he shuts the door. It’s very obviously a test. He’s probably waiting on the other side, listening in to learn what sort of incriminating information you might share. Not that it matters if she hears it. She’ll take all of this new knowledge to the grave or, in more literal terms, Jade’s stomach.

“I’m sorry you’re caught up in this,” you murmur, tracing invisible circles into the floor. “What’s your name?”

“M-Marisa.”

You glance at her. “It’s beautiful just like you.”

“Oh. Well, t-thank you.” She offers you a shy smile. “My mother named me after the sea. It was her favorite place to visit whenever she needed inspiration. She was an artist, and the sea was her biggest muse.”

“That’s sweet. I wish I knew the lore behind my name.”

“It’s still pretty without the backstory.”

“I guess so.”

I never really put much thought into my name. Does it matter if it’s pretty or ugly?

“Actually… It’s kinda ironic. I don’t like the sea. It scares me, so I stay away from it.”

“The sea itself or what’s in it?”

“Both?” She attempts an awkward shrug. “There are scarier things out there, but there’s something unsettling about the ocean. Maybe I’m silly for thinking that.”

“You’re not. It’s normal to be scared of things we don’t understand.” Like right now. But you keep that part to yourself. “I can’t relate. I love the sea. The lost history, the creatures, the mysteries… It’s all so fascinating.”

“Really? You’re braver than I am!”

“I’m just way too passionate. That’s all.”

Am I? I said I’d be a marine biologist and that’s what I’ve been studying all this time. But…

Marisa sighs. “You’re lucky. I’ve always wanted to find something I could be passionate about.”

“I’m sure you’ll find something one day.” And then you pause. “Or… Um.”

She pastes another hollow smile on her face. “I thought I could be passionate about school, but I couldn’t do it. I dropped out and tried a few jobs. Everyone told me it’d be easier to get married instead of running around like a headless chicken, but that didn’t feel right. I thought I’d be passionate about things like motherhood and babies, but I dunno. I’m already so far along, but I haven’t felt anything yet. No excitement or anxiety. Just emptiness. And I know that’s a terrible thing to feel and think—we’re supposed to love the things we create! I don’t even think I truly love my boyfriend. I’m horrible—I know!”

“You’re not horrible. The truth is—” You stop yourself before the words can slip out. I don’t love Azul. I’m not even pregnant. “I don’t know if you’ll ever figure any of that out, but I know you’re a good person. You obviously care about these things. If you didn’t, you wouldn’t be so worried.”

Marisa sniffles. “Thanks…”

“I can help you find your passion. There’s so much to do in the city. I’m sure something will catch your interest. Oh! Have you ever been to Siren’s Heartache? It’s a karaoke place. My friend and I used to go all the time.”

“I’ve been there once!”

“It’s amazing, isn’t it? My friend would order the craziest stuff off their menu. He hates sweets, but he’d get all kinds of sugary drinks and snacks for the hell of it. Said it didn’t matter because it’d look cute on camera, so no one needed to know if he enjoyed it.”

“He did it for the pictures? That’s it?”

“Yep! He loves photography. He’ll do anything to make sure he gets the best angles and lighting.”

“Wow… I don’t think I could be that dedicated.”

“No? Then what about schedules? My other friend used to be on these super rigid schedules. I’m sure he’s still on them now, but back then it was really suffocating. He’s always been so organized, though. It’s impressive.”

“Isn’t that too restrictive? Doesn’t he have any time for fun?”

“Would that be better? A free life filled with ups and downs or a rigid life you can plan around?”

“Both sound just as bad.”

“Isn’t that just life?”

She breathes a sardonic laugh. “From a pessimist’s perspective, sure.”

“What kind of life would you want?”

“Is it bad to say I want something easy?”

“No fair. You totally stole my answer!”

“Then maybe we’re both bad.”

“Yeah…” You stretch your legs out and flex your toes on your good foot. If that’s bad, then I’m the worst. “I guess we are.”

She giggles. “You’re supposed to disagree!”

“Oh, oops. Sorry.”

“It’s fine. I don’t think it’s so bad to want an easy life. If it were up to me, I’d want it to be like one giant tea party. That way everyone can come together for tea and tiny cakes.”

“And you wouldn’t have to work, so who cares if you’re rich or poor!”

“Exactly! There aren’t any expectations. You can be good or bad. Empty like me or passionate like you. It’s all just conversation at the end of the day.” She gazes at you, and her features relax into a real smile. “I wish we could’ve met sooner. You seem like a fun friend.”

Am I really? I feel like I’ve been nothing but trouble for Riddle and Azul. Even Cater…

You hum your acknowledgement before nodding towards her belly. “Have you thought of any names?”

“Nothing yet. I’m not very creative and I don’t want anything basic either. Something memorable would suffice.”

“Like your name.”

“Right! Only nothing connected to the sea.” Marisa chuckles sheepishly. “It wouldn’t mean anything to me.”

“Maybe it doesn’t have to mean anything significant. As long as it comes from the heart and you like it, it should be fine. At least, I think that’s how it works.”

“I have no idea. This is my first time.”

You nod. Somehow it feels like I’m indirectly lying to her…

“You’ll find a name that sticks one day. When you do, let’s get together and celebrate.”

“At the Siren’s Heartache?”

“Wherever you’d like.”

She gasps. “How about a tearoom? There’s this really cute one just outside the city. I go there all the time. The owners are the nicest people I’ve ever met! If we go, we can have our own tea party. You can bring your friend who likes photography. I’m sure he’ll get lots of pretty pictures.”

That’s impossible. We both know there’s no chance of—

“Marisa!” She startles at the urgency in your tone. You look and sound as if you’ve just cracked a cold case. “That’s it!”

“What is?”

“Your passion! Tea parties!”

“I always thought that was more of a hobby…”

“You can be passionate about hobbies. I’ve never gone to a tea party myself and I don’t know what that involves aside from drinking tea and eating snacks, but it sounds like a good time.”

“Oh, it’s the best time! I love dressing up for it, too. On nights when I knew I’d be going the next day, I arranged my outfit in advance. What jewelry I’d wear, what makeup I’d put on, what purse I’d bring… I could spend hours trying on my clothes and picking different pieces. And their afternoon tea sets—they’re everything! You have to try it if you go! I love their egg sandwiches. Well, everything they serve is delicious.”

Your lips quirk up in a playful grin. “See? You’re not empty.”

Stunned, Marisa sits there in the bath. “You’re right,” she mumbles. “I never realized it, but I love tea parties. I love talking with people over food and drinks. I guess it came so easy to me and I did it so often that I didn’t think anything of it.”

“Maybe we can add ‘socialization’ to the list of passions?”

She laughs, her hair bouncing with the movement. It comes right from her chest—authentic amusement—and it’s a musical sound. You wish there was another way. Jade may have shown you mercy, but you’re certain it won’t be the same for her. Even with these unlucky odds, you’re determined to try. It’s the only thing you can do. Try and hope that something goes well.

You gesture for Marisa to turn around. She almost questions you, but you hold your index up to shush her. She stares at you, her lips pressed in a tight line, and nods her understanding. As quietly as she can, she shuffles in the tub until her back is facing you. 

“Hey, what’s this tearoom called again?” you ask as you reach for the biggest glass shard.

“It’s called Portobello.”

“Like the mushroom?”

“Mhm! It’s forest-themed. They’re famous for their chaga tea.”

“Huh…”

Of course it’s mushrooms. You glance at the door. Do you hear that, you freak? Sounds like the perfect place for a mushroom fanatic like yourself.

“Do you like mushrooms?”

“They’re okay. I don’t eat them often. I have so many other foods I prefer…” You trail off as you saw through thick rope with the jagged glass. “Actually, there was this one time I got fried chicken from the city. I was stupid drunk and nothing was open, so my fiancé took me to a convenience store. It was cheap, but it was so yummy! I guess everything is when you’re that gone… Anyway, he was so mortified when I woke up the next morning wanting more. That was the only thing I remembered from that night.”

“Why was he so embarrassed? I think convenience store food is great!”

“Right? You understand it.” You sigh and shake your head, recalling that memory with startling clarity. “Azul is… It’s hard to explain.”

“But you’re engaged?”

“I’m crazy, aren’t I? Marrying a man who gets flustered over fried chicken from the convenience store. He ate it in a fancy suit, too. What a weirdo.”

“He sounds funny.”

“The funniest. It was our first year together as…contractual obligations. He was so determined to make a good impression that he banned junk food from his life. We broke that dumb rule that night. I think that was the first time I saw the real him. He’s cute when he blushes.”

“Contractual obligations? Why not partners?”

You cough awkwardly. “J-Just an inside joke. He’s a businessman.”

“Ah, that makes sense.” She flexes her fingers just as you manage to cut through the first knot. “That’s sweet.”

“What?”

“You and him.”

“What about us?” Your hand hesitates, gripping the shard with new force. Any tighter and you might slice your palm open.

“You must’ve been so hungry, and he went out of his way to make sure you were fed even if it meant breaking his rule.”

“That was just—he hates having to owe people stuff. He was just repaying a favor.”

“My mother used to tell me a good man will visit for your best, but a great man will stay for your worst and everything in between.”

“I…guess.”

No way Azul likes me at my worst.

You shut your mouth and resume your previous motions. With her hands now freed, you lean over the tub to work on the rope binding her ankles.

“What about your boyfriend? You said you’re not sure if you love him?”

“I don’t know what I want. We’re happy being together without any rings or ceremonies, but I feel like that’s not enough. I feel like I’m not enough.”

“Maybe you should take your mother’s advice.”

“I will when you do.”

“H-Hey!”

She giggles. “I’m kidding. I think… I’m glad you have someone who cares. It’s no fun being alone all the time. Sometimes it’s good to share your peace with others, even if that’s getting fried chicken from the convenience store with a weird guy on a chaotic night.”

You laugh, but it comes out choked.

Yeah, Azul’s weird.

And then the first tear lands on her foot. It isn’t long before more rush forth, blurring your vision. You manage to cut her free from the rope just before it becomes impossible to see clearly. When you meet her stare next, she smiles. It’s strained with sorrow.

Why are you crying? She’s just a stranger.

You throw your arms around her and sob quietly into her shoulder. She runs her hand along your back. It’s meant to soothe, but all it does is remind you of the limited time you have with her.

I’m crying because she’s a stranger. Because she’s someone I’ll never be able to know more than this.

“Escape,” you whisper as you pull away, pressing the shard into her hand. “And when you do, wait for me and we’ll have our giant tea party.”

She nods, her eyes shimmering with sadness. “You can count on it.”

When Jade returns, syringe in hand, it’s to a room of suffocating silence. You’ve no idea what its liquid contents are, but it can’t be very pleasant or safe. Regardless, you don’t intend to find out. He steps through the door, looks squarely at you, and smiles. Your skin crawls.

Calm down. It’ll be okay.

“You took your time.”

“Did I? My apologies if I kept you waiting.”

“Have you ever had mushroom tea before?”

He pauses. “Mushroom tea?”

So he wasn’t listening in. Either that, or he’s just hesitating for effect.

“I’ve never had it before, but I’d assume someone with your palate would’ve tried it.”

He laughs humorlessly. “Is there a reason for this assumption?”

“You like mushrooms. Sounds like something that’d be right up your alley.”

“You would be correct.” Jade taps the needle, eyeing the liquid within the plastic cylinder. “I’ve had it before, yes.”

“Was it good?”

“Quite.”

His gaze drifts towards the empty tub and you panic. “W-Will you bring some for me to try?”

He blinks at you. An amused smile pulls his lips apart.

You can’t stop the scowl that forms on your face. “I can’t control what the baby wants.”

Just a little longer… Keep your eyes on me.

“I’d love nothing more for you to try it.”

“But?”

“But there isn’t nearly enough credible information detailing whether chaga is safe to consume while pregnant. It would be very unfortunate if you injured your parasite on account of my negligence.”

“Someone did their research.”

“Indeed.”

“So what’s a good substitute? I want mushroom tea.”

“Pouting about it won’t fix anything.” He reaches to pull the curtain away, and you lurch forwards. The chain rattles. You pause with outstretched arms. Jade watches you with a frown. “Is something the matter?”

You lower your arms. “No… N-No, sorry. Nothing’s wrong. I’m just…hungry.”

“As am I, so if you could stop stalling for her sake I would appreciate it.”

A bone-chilling cold blankets the bathroom.

Your laugh comes out brittle. “Who’s stalling?”

It happens so fast you wish it was slow motion. Maybe then your reaction time would’ve been better. Marisa springs out from behind the door just as Jade turns to view her. She shoves him with as much strength as she can muster, swiping at him with the glass shard. Somehow she manages to drive it into his arm. Taken by surprise, he grunts and shakes her off. The syringe clatters to the floor and you dive to snatch it before he can. With Jade temporarily thrown off, Marisa flees from the room as quickly as she can. You look on with wide eyes, the syringe clutched in a tight fist.

She’s doing it… She’s actually escaping!

Jade curls his fingers around the glass lodged in his skin and rips it out. Blood spurts from the cut, crawling down his arm in a red slither. The chunk rests on the tiles in front of you, and it fills you with a proud satisfaction knowing he’s injured, if only partially. By the time you’ve blinked, he’s already hurrying towards Marisa. She’s about to wrench the bedroom door open, her freedom just beyond the confines of his home, but he seizes her wrist and yanks her away.

Just like the syringe in your hand, your heart drops.

She yelps and twists in his hold, flailing blindly. The scene is eerily reminiscent of your scuffle with Jade—the one you’d gotten into when he revealed himself as the intruder in your apartment. You were drunk then, wholly incapable of fending him off, but Marisa isn’t. She has a chance. She can escape. There has to be a way for—

You watch her fall, cringing at the resonating thud as her back makes contact with the floorboards. Jade’s hands are around her throat before you even know it.

“N-No… Wait. Wait, stop!” You lurch towards them, but the chain only allows you to go so far. You strain against the pull, grabbing at the door frame in hopes of breaking out of the shackle’s restrictive hold. “Jade—”

Marisa’s choked gasp cuts you off. You stare at her hands as they claw at Jade’s in animalistic desperation. Her eyes are so wide you see white; her mouth is open in a silent scream. With Jade on top of her, pinning her to the floor and squeezing her neck with ruthless precision, she can only kick her legs out and produce a haunting garble of sounds as she battles an impossible enemy.

“Stop! Let go of her!”

You grit your teeth and tug against the cuff. It digs into your skin and leaves you aching from the sting. Tears sprout along your lash line, and you cry out in pained frustration. Your agony doesn’t reach Jade’s ears. Or maybe it does and he’s just tuning it out. You’re unsure until you catch sight of his expression. A blank, empty slate—that’s what he is. There’s something murderous smoldering in terrifying two-toned eyes, but his lips are pressed in a firm pout and his brows are pinched together. Not from any sort of distress but, rather, from the physical exertion. His forearms flex, every muscle riddled with tense adrenaline, and his fingers dig into her throat to cut her circulation.

From where you stand, struggling against your restraints, you think his pupils are blown wide. He looks predatory. Unhinged in a feral sort of way. Like a wild animal who’s just pounced on his prey…

A wild animal. That’s what he is right now. Something unbound by human morals and law. A creature led only by instinct—by the intrinsic desire to slaughter and feast.

“Jade!” You give another determined tug to no avail. “Jade, please—you can’t do this! She’s pregnant! She has a boyfriend—a life! You can’t!”

Your voice is shrill, scratching through your vocal chords as if it intends to shred them to ribbons. You’ve never heard yourself sound so panicked before. Never known the crushing devastation of being so close and yet so powerless.

No matter how much you scream, Jade continues to strangle her. You can’t bear to watch any longer. Sinking to the floor, you lean against the wall and press your hands to your ears. You don’t want to hear Marisa’s wheezing breaths. You don’t want to see her struggle. You don’t want to see Jade as he kills her in front of you.

You don’t want to be a witness. You want out.

After minutes of torturous asphyxiation, her thread of life is snipped and she finally fades away. Moments later, urine soaks through her shorts and pools beneath her in a puddle. You look up just in time to see him release her and rise to his full height. Heaving a sigh, Jade tucks his dark hair strand behind his ear. Marisa lies lifeless, a husk of the once bright, bubbly woman you interacted with before this. Now she’s gone.

“Y-You’re a monster…” you manage through thick, anguished sobs.

He killed her. She’s…dead. Jade killed her. I just watched her die and there was nothing I could do and I…let it happen.

“This could’ve been avoided. I was going to give her an easy death, but you forced my hand.” Jade steps around you to pick the syringe up. “Let’s add another rule to our list. Seeing as I’m not allowed to touch you, it’s only fair that you keep your nose out of my work in return.”

Dead… She’s dead. Marisa is…

“Does that sound agreeable, (Name)?”

There’s a ringing in your ears—the warning tick of a clock or the foreboding chime of a death knell. Amidst every overwhelming sensation and haywire emotion, self-preservation echoes in your head: I’ve got to get out of here.

You blink through blurring vision. Are you crying? Numbly, you touch your face. The tears are there, wetting your cheeks in copious amounts. Something’s scratching at the back of your eyes. It’s not enough to feel like sleep, but it’s a familiar sensation. You’re certain you’ve felt it before. But when?

You can’t stop crying.

She’s dead. She’s dead. She’s dead. She’s dead.

You suck in gulps of air.

I should’ve done more. I could’ve done more! There had to have been something—logically. You have to look at it logically. She was doomed to die the moment Jade brought her here.

You dig your nails into your arms.

We were going to have a tea party. I was going to help her find more passions. We were going to be friends…

You watch Jade bend down to her height and press two fingers to her neck. Suddenly, there are two Jades and both are tilting. He glances at you, but his words don’t reach your ears.

I was going to save her.

Your head hits the floor with a thump. The world goes dark.

Unlike previous times, the dream aquarium is bursting with life today. Moon jellyfish float peacefully behind sturdy glass. A manta ray glides smoothly through the water in laps. Fish of all colors and shapes are caught up in the current. The glow from the tanks dyes the hall in a cool ultramarine.

It’s quiet here. Safe. Comforting.

You’re lying on the floor, dressed in a clean hospital gown, and there is an entire galaxy of jellyfish above you. They’re set into the glass ceiling, their translucent bodies bobbing up and down in hypnotic patterns. You blink once and the blue brightens as if breathing alongside you. You blink again and this time a woman pokes her head into your visual field. Her milky-white eyes, though piercing, don’t frighten you. She blinks one eye at a time and her irises explode with color—now a vibrant green. Her long, black hair is tied back in a braid that sweeps over her shoulder. Tiny stars are twined throughout.

When she speaks, she has the same voice as the woman from the intercom.

“Today’s color is blue. As vast and wide as the sky and sea, as deep and dark as water’s soul, blue is the color of trust and sincerity. It is the color of bruises and sadness. It is the color of loneliness. It is the color that has finally led me to you.”

You stare at her, spooked speechless.

“Hello again, (Name).” She smiles and offers her gloved hand. “It’s been a while. Many years, in fact. I thought I’d never be able to catch you.”

You hesitate. Can you trust her—the woman you’ve spent so many dreams pursuing? There’s no one else here in this hall. She’s your only option. Swallowing your fears, you grab her hand and allow her to hoist you to your feet.

“My name is Marmoris. Ah, I must inform you that I’ve taken the form of someone familiar, so please note that this isn’t the current me. My true form is…not very pleasant. I wouldn’t want to startle you with it.”

“The current you? Your true form?” You draw away from her and bump into the tank behind you. Turning around, you gaze at the image slowly forming within murky waters. It’s…Jade’s bathroom. And there’s Jade, stooped over Marisa’s corpse. He’s looking at you next. You place your hand against the glass, but the scene doesn’t disappear. “W-What is this? What’s going on?”

Marmoris joins you at the tank. Her reflection warps with a myriad of aquatic traits. At one point, you think you see fins where her ears ought to be—shadows of wispy tendrils where her lab coat once was. “You’ll have to forgive me. There was no other way. You’ve already seen too much.” She shuffles closer to you. Her hands cover your eyes next. “Please don’t look. I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you.”

You squirm out of her hold. The picture presented in saltwater clouds in and out of clarity. “Protect me? I don’t understand. What do you mean by—”

“There’s not much time. I can’t keep you in here any longer than I already have.” She grabs hold of your hands and squeezes them. She looks sincere enough, but you can’t get past the fact that, though she claimed to take on the appearance of someone familiar, you can’t recognize this woman’s features.

She’s a stranger.

Before you can protest further, Marmoris leans in close and presses a kiss to your forehead. Her lips are frigid. The transient security of the desolate dream aquarium melts away, taking you with it.

“I promise I’ll explain everything the next time we meet. When we do, look for me. I’ll be waiting.”

You jerk awake with a gasp. Your hands fly to your throat on instinct. Slowly, while catching your breath, you peer around the bathroom. Marisa has been moved to the tub and Jade’s in the process of cleaning the floor. He glances at you. His arm is bandaged.

“Welcome back.”

You shoot him a withering look. “Eat glass and die.”

“Wouldn’t that please you?”

“It would,” you whisper weakly, more tears spilling over. “It really would.”

For the first time in a while, you can’t recall any slivers of your dream.

[sticky-cravings]

Conserving Energy

CW: Glorification of mobility loss and weight gain, cannabis use, unhealthy weight gain, exhibitionism

That was the strategy that led to my weight gain. Not just grazing on whatever I want whenever I want, but also keeping it all on my bed within arm's reach. The goal is to stay in bed and do nothing for as long as possible. I avoid caffeine and eat indica edibles when I first wake up to keep me hazy and glued to the bed. In between then, I shimmy out of bed and plop myself into the office chair next to my bed. I roll to my bathroom and slowly waddle to the toilet. To save calories, i roll around my apartment on an office chair and get all my essentials delivered so I don't have to leave. I grab a big tray from my kitchen and load it up with doughnuts, pastries, bacon, and cereal for my late breakfast. I grab a gallon of ice cream and some cookies before rolling back into bed.

By now, the edibles are hitting me and I'm glued to my bed. I scarf down the breakfast and lazily graze my way through the doughnuts. In the past, I would have gone off to work and burned a lot of these calories I've ingested, but now I'm encouraged to stay in and not work by my feeder. Now, with my ass idle, the weight is piling on me.

On the weekends I don't leave my bed until Sunday night when I get weighed. As of last week I'm 210lbs (5'1"). My belly wobbles whenever I walk. My tits are two sizes larger, my ass is covered in cellulite, like a spoiled blob nested in blankets, constantly smoking joints and drinking beer.

I'm still very able to walk, but my feeder insists that I use a mobility scooter or get around by driving. This and my smoking habits make me huff and puff when I do minor tasks. They hate it when I use stairs or have to walk long distances. Last time we went to Costco to buy my weekly groceries, you bought me five hot dogs and a pizza as a snack while we shopped. I balanced the pizza box on my scooter's basket while l ate the hot dogs. Other shoppers judged my gluttony but I couldn't care less.

My feeder knows deep down that I'm actually a very lazy person. I don't like to work, think, or move if I don't have to. They adore how lazy I am, how my body has become pale, plump, and weakened from a junk-ridden diet and no exercise. They love to wait on me hand and foot and make me their queen.

[qierxing]

Determination

A/N: Finished the LaDs story if you couldn’t tell. If you asked what came over me to write this, I could not tell you because truly I think I was in a trance because I’m not exactly a Sylus stan Yan! Sylus/Qin Che x Reader Forbidden fruit tastes the sweetest. CW/TW: Dub//Con touching, Manipulation, Power Imbalances, Disability issues, Unhealthy relationships, Obsessive behavior, Reader is not in-game MC but MC is referenced and reader is lowkey Longing(THEY HAVE TWO HANDS OKAY), kind of Alt! AU following the storyline

—

From the moment you were born, your life had been planned out to the end.

You would grow up, become useful, and then once you lost your usefulness; be ushered to handling petty things to earn your right to exist, and then you would die. Just like everyone else in the N-109 zone. Cremated or dissolved, of course. No one is dumb enough to leave behind evidence or traces, or even worse, parts for grave robbers with no morals and a penchant for quick gold. That was simply the circle of life here. 

Your future had been set in stone as soon as your father had settled here. On some particularly trying days, you resent him for it. Other days, you know enough that he had no choice. 

“Is the old man in?”

The voice makes you tense reactively before you relax, recognizing the familiar low cadence. 

“He’s out on an errand, should I pass on your message?”

The leader of Onychinus and your boss by proxy, shakes his head. You didn’t bother to ask twice. Your focus once again is drawn back to the shiny red protocore on your desk. It’s a tiny thing; requiring meticulous care, lest it be shattered by too much pressure. 

“Is there something I can do for you while you’re here then?” 

A shuffle, then several clinks in your hearing peripheral. He must be looking through the backlog or the recent projects. It’s a habit whenever he felt restless and after some time, you learned to push down the feeling like your work was being dissected bit by bit by his intimidating eyes. 

The prolonged silence makes you forget your own question, too engrossed in the protocore in front of you. When Sylus speaks again, a tremor runs though your hands and make you almost lose your grip.

“What do you think I should do with a kitten that keeps hissing at me?”

You look over with wide eyes. Of course, there can only be one thing he’s referring to–the fact that the Onychinus’s leader is in possession of a valuable asset is not a secret. An outsider, of all things, too. Some would shake their heads in pity, others would sneer and say she had only herself to blame, and even more would only care once her dead body was laid bare and the aether core in their hands.

To you, though? You thought she was amazing. 

She was like the chivalrous heroes in the few scrappy picture books your father had. Dashing, fearless, and always fighting for justice. What was it like to be a hunter? You’ve never seen her, yet you daydream constantly about the life she led, and how you wished it could be yours.

“I feed some stray cats here and there. They usually warm up once they realize I’m not a threat and I’m trying to help them.” The sincere advice has him snorting in cynical disbelief. 

“And if that kitty still shows their claws?” You shift uncomfortably at the way his voice dips. When he was angry, Sylus was terrifying. But he wasn’t angry, not yet, and you wish you weren’t the factor that could change that right now.

“Usually time will do its work.” You try to sound casual, but you can feel Sylus’s eyes piercing through you. You try to swallow the saliva clogging your mouth. You don’t want to imagine what kind of methods the boss would utilize to make people talk. You distanced yourself from such violence, even if it was naive and stupid to do so. Still, there was a clear difference from self-defense and actively inflicting violence. The twins that shadowed Sylus made that crystal clear.

“Hmm…if you say so.” The heavy gaze lifts off of you and it’s like a weight lifts off your throat, letting air back into your lungs. 

Another few seconds pass in silence, with you praying for nothing else of note will happen.

”The old man told me that you’ll be benched soon.” 

The pointed sentence makes your hands freeze. The bright gold protocurve gleams in the dim workshop, and for a moment, the blood rushing your ears is all you can hear. 

“I’ve been unable to keep up with the workload, sir.” You keep your eyes firmly fixed on the ruby red core, forcing your hands to keep moving while you modify the curve. “I don’t think I can be any more help to my dad.”

Not entirely a full lie. You’re not sure if it’s because the rough and tough life of N-109 is wearing you down like sandpaper or if it’s your body collapsing in on itself due to its condition, but most days it’d be a miracle if you could get one modification done without mistakes. 

One time when you were still an immature child, you disobeyed your father and snuck out of the house during dawn. Your life had always been the pitch black of night, with the brightest natural light being the moon and its silvery clouds wrapping around it like a translucent shawl. When you asked your dad what happened when you slept, he simply stated the moon also went to bed. So then, what exactly happened while it slept?

The sun was blinding. It seared you to the bone as the heat increased with the hours passing and it rose above the horizon. It was so hot, yet you could not help but feel at peace, as if the rays were cleansing you. The landscape under its light was depressing as usual; metal scraps and rusted junk scattered and embedded in dull colored dirt and rocks. This much didn’t surprise you, but it still reminded you of the bleakness of your world. 

It made you feel helplessly trapped.

“If that’s the case, why didn’t you talk to me?” 

You blink once, then twice at Sylus standing in front of you, with an unreadable expression on his face. He had stated it as if it was common sense to bring up a grievance with him. As if he wasn’t the most terrifying power within the N-109 zone. As if you and your father weren’t subject to his whims.

”I…I’m sorry,” your eyes cast downward in guilt again. You wish your boss was as evil as some of the rumors make him out to be. It would make things so much easier. “I just didn’t think you need to be bothered with something this trivial.”

If possible, the expression on his face sours even more. “One of my researchers is not trivial. You help me, and I help you.”

You bite your tongue. Of course he was practical. It is true. Without you and your father, he would lose a quarter of his manpower in tech. But this just hardens your resolve even further. 

“Thank you for your concern, sir,” you plaster a sickeningly polite smile on, straining to keep the facade of a lackey who was happy to live another day. “But it’s alright—even if I can’t directly assist my father anymore, I can find other ways to be helpful.”

Why you were significant enough as a cog in his many machinations is still plain weird. But that doesn’t matter. Soon enough, you won’t be one if at all.

Sylus gives a bark of harsh laughter, startling you and making you drop one of your tools. Your skin crawled, but you willed yourself to stay calm, to maintain a calm demeanor that belied none of your true thoughts. It had been the only thing you kept from the many street smarts of N-109 when you grew up. 

He reaches out his hand. His evol wraps crimson red smoke around his outstretched fingers, and when it clears, there’s a slip of crinkled white notebook paper. Your heart immediately plummets into your stomach.

”Are you sure it’s not because you finally found an out to this hellhole?”

You hadn’t fully realized it, but you’re no longer sitting, and the next thing you know, the world has flashed into white and ringing. You’re no longer even thinking at this point, running on pure adrenaline and instinct. Sylus may be the one running the show, but even he couldn’t know all of the labyrinth of secret exits this workshop had. 

You got exactly ten steps in the direction of one before your face met the concrete floor. You don’t need to look to see what’s pinning you down. It’s almost insulting, but most of all, it’s aggravating to know how close freedom was in reach, only to be stopped short of it.

“You really thought something like that could stop me?” Sylus’s voice drawls above your struggling body. You’re wrenched up to stand in front of him, arms held up like a crucified deity. He fiddles with the now broken protocore in his fingers, turning it this way and that, so that the dim lights caught the cracked grooves and threw reflections on the grungy walls around you. Finally, he drops it and with a crack, his polished shoe has grinded it to nothing. “Well, it’s certainly a novel idea.”

You don’t bother to say anything, but a sob nearly wells up, just barely held back by clenched teeth. You were so, so close. Now you’ll never know what it felt to be in bright city lights and live a normal life. 

“I thought it was clear that the only place you had was by my side.” Sylus clicks his tongue, tilting his head. You’re forced forward, and then your head was buried in his shoulder as his hands found their way onto your waist, tight and unyielding. The acrid smell of gunpowder and alcohol from his ironed button up makes your nose wrinkle and although you try to turn your head away, one of his hands presses your head even closer. “I should’ve known better that you would get your hopes up when that hunter came.”

Hot breath ghosts your neck, sending goosebumps up your skin, and before you could stop him, his teeth are buried inside tender flesh, making you cry out in pain. Your struggling starts up again, but Sylus doesn’t acknowledge it, instead lathering a lithe tongue over the wound, causing pleasurable shivers up your spine. 

“Then, if you want to leave so badly, how about you stay with me?” he whispers with a tenderness that makes your head spin.

No matter how much you want it, you could not fight the fate that was set for you.

[activesplooger]

𝒴𝑜𝓊'𝓇𝑒 𝑜𝓋𝑒𝓇 𝒽𝒾𝓂… | 𝐿𝓊𝒸𝒾𝒻𝑒𝓇 𝒜𝓃𝑔𝓈𝓉 𝐵𝓁𝓊𝓇𝒷 | 𝐻𝒶𝓏𝒷𝒾𝓃 𝐻𝑜𝓉𝑒𝓁 | 𝐿𝓊𝒸𝒾𝒻𝑒𝓇 𝓍 𝑅𝑒𝒶𝒹𝑒𝓇

Notes: I promise I'm working on the stuff i said i would i j had a quick thought uaihfoaqejkaiq. this is not edited btw

CW: Angst, unrequited feelings, unhealthy coping habits

Imagine... You had been bests friends with Lucifer for a while. As your relationship grew stronger, so did your feelings for him. Your feelings developed so much that you fell in love with him. Hard. But, he was married. It was a ridiculous thought...

Then, he got a divorce. You wanted to be happy, but seeing him so depressed killed you. Out of respect and common decency, you didn't say anything about your feelings despite how much you wanted to. It hurt even more when he talks about his wife with you... How much he still loves her.... How they were meant to be... And how he felt as if he could never love another again...

You were heartbroken. As much as you wanted to be there for him, it was destroying you to hear any more about it. You needed a break. Far away. So, you hop around rings for a few years.... a few hundred years... Lust, gluttony, greed, wrath - any ring but Pride. You found Gluttony and Lust to be the most distracting, so you visited those the most. Even if it wasn't a healthy way to cope, you just wanted to feel better.

After a long break, you return. Lucifer had been bombarding you with texts and calls since you left. Ouch... Maybe you should visit him? It had been a while... You're over him. And hopefully, he's over her. The two of you meet in his palace. His home was a testament to the pain he's been going through...

Thousands of ducks were sprawled about in his messy office,and photos of him and Lillith still hung on the walls... It does'nt matter. You're over him. You exchange "how are you's" to one another and you lie and say you're "fine" and so does he...

He opens up to you again... He still loves her... It doesn't matter, you're over him. Be there for your friend. Every word is a dagger to your heart, and your eyes start to flood with tears. You're over him.

You see longing in his eyes for his one true love... not you. You're about to burst into tears. Don'tcrydon'tcrydon'tcry, you're over him.

You know exactly what he's going through, yet you have to sit there and tell him it's gonna be okay and it'll pass. Its not okay, it's not passing. You're not over him, you still love him and always did. Fuckfuckfuck- You hold back a choked sob and then suddenly- "A-Anyways, enough about me... Look at what I made while you were gone," Lucifer rummages through a pile of rubber ducks and pulls one out that resembles you, "Ta-da!". He smiles at you, albiet a bit strained but still... It melted away your heartbreak. You chuckle, admiring the rubber duck as you take it in your hands, "Thanks, Lou, that's so thoughtful.".

"No problem..." his smile fades slightly, "where'd you go...?". "O-Oh," the question catches you off guard, "I just hopped around rings for awhile, explored a bit.". "Fun fun, where'd you visit?" he questions."All rings, mostly Lust and Gluttony." you respond. He wiggles his eyebrows at you when mentioning the Lust ring, eliciting a giggle from you.

"Pft, shut up." you retort.

Lucifer chuckles before speaking softly, "Well, glad you have fun but... Don't go leaving me again, okay?". "Okay" Another hour passes, and you excuse yourself with a dumb, made-up reason to leave.

"Bye! See you next time!" he waves from the front door of his palace.

As soon as your back turns, you burst into tears. There was no next time with him... Ever. You couldn't see him again. It would hurt him, but it's for the best... You're not the one he was meant to be with... He doesn't love you...

[projectbluearcadia]

Well-Deserved Rest

NSFW Sub!Lucifer x GN!MC Spice Rating - 3/4 ; BDSM Rating 0/3

[ Premise - Lucifer is all stressed out again, and you’ve decided that you’re going to make him unwind by taking control and spoiling the shit out of him. ]

Lucifer makes me sub... but sub!Luci makes me want to dom his ass.

CW: None, really? One spank, Lucifer receiving.

Wordcount - 2546

smutty notes (consult if you haven’t read my smut before.)

“Lucifer?” you say in shock as you watch the oldest brother, not even wearing his waistcoat or his gloves in the kitchen. His sleeves are hiked up to his elbows, his crimson tie missing. He gazes at you for a long moment, just as he reaches the coffee grinder, and the stress in his eyes momentarily seems to ease before he looks away. 

“Morning,” he mumbles, filling the grinder with fresh beans, and the machine hums quietly before the sound of coffee being ground fills the air, along with its wonderful scent. 

“Lucifer… did you even sleep?” you ask, and at first, you think he’s ignoring you, and on the off-chance that he couldn’t hear you over the grinder, you decide to wait until it’s finished. “Lucifer. Did you sleep?” 

“What? Oh… I think I did?” He takes the grounds out, pushing them into a neat little puck before packing it into the espresso machine. 

“You think?” you ask. “If you’re not going to sleep next to me, the least you can do is actually take more than a power nap. Seriously; this is getting ridiculous. You should not be getting up in the middle of the night to do work, much less pulling all-nighters.” 

“I’ve gone for more than a month with less than an hour of sleep; I’ll be fine,” he mumbles, taking his coffee cup out from underneath the machine. “I don’t need you to mind me like I’m some kind of child. I know where my limits are.” 

You fold your arms at him, half-tempted to actually yell at him with frustration. Though you’ve been getting him to fix some of his unhealthy habits, R.A.D. loves throwing a wrench in the works, whether it’s Diavolo, the students, his brothers, or diplomatic meetings. 

“Hey!” you protest as Lucifer starts walking off with his coffee, and he pauses to look back at you. 

“I have to go back to work, MC. Later?” Meaning, I will not discuss this with you now, and I’m going whether you want me to or not; be content with the fact that you’ve seen me at all today. 

“You’d better come to bed tonight, Lucifer,” you growl at him, and he softly chuckles. “By 11 P.M. If you’re not there, I’m going to drag you there by force.” 

“Yes, honey, I’ll come to bed. So greedy…” His voice trails off as he travels out of earshot, and you grumble a retort. I’m going to make sure you have a proper rest, you son of a bitch. 

—

You’re sitting in front of Lucifer’s fireplace, reading one of Satan’s book recommendations when you hear Lucifer knock on the frame of his bedroom door..

“Here I am, as requested,” Lucifer says, and you hear his leather oxfords briefly clack against the wooden floor before muffling against his rug. Then he’s behind your chair, pulling his hands over yours, leaning his head down to kiss your temple. “Come on… don’t be mad at me,” he whispers sweetly, rubbing your arms up and down. “I know it’s been a lonely week, so let’s go out for some quality time on Sunday.” Lucifer kisses your cheek, teasing your bookmark from your fingers and closing your book on it. “Maybe we can go shopping… or maybe we can see a show… go to your favorite restaurant for dinner…” He drags his lips against the back of your ear, his voice lowering by an octave. “Have lots of sex when we get home… how does that sound, darling?” 

“I’m still mad at you,” you reply, and he pauses, his mouth opening to try to butter you up some more, but you don’t let him. “If you want me to stop being mad, I get to torture you when I fuck you tonight.” It’s not an unreasonable request per se, considering you’ve topped him before. It’s just not one that Lucifer expects you to ask so bluntly, which is why he doesn’t answer you for several uncomfortably long moments. 

“Do whatever you please with me then,” he responds, finally, and you get up to turn and look back at him. Surprisingly enough, he looks a little nervous, and you barely stop yourself from launching at him in a fit of cuteness aggression. “Am I allowed to touch you this time…?” God, fuck, stop me from ripping his clothes off; I want to tease him. 

“Yes,” you reply after a moment, “but you’re not allowed to switch to being dominant halfway through doing that. That means not taking advantage of your demon strength.” 

“I agreed to this; I want to make it up to you,” Lucifer concedes softly, loosely pulling his arms around your lower back. “I’ll be your stress toy tonight, okay?” Oh, honey, that is far from what I have planned.

“That’s my good little demon,” you murmur, rubbing his head slowly, and a faint blush scatters over his cheeks at the praise. He opens his mouth to ask a question, but you cut him off as you push your lips against his, a soft groan leaving his mouth as you pull his hair and dominate his tongue. His fingers stray under your shirt, caressing the skin of your back with deliberate slowness as if he needed to savor every second he was allowed to touch you. 

“Mn,” he grunts into your mouth as you tease your fingers up his inner thigh, teasing him until his hands stiffen, struggling to restrain himself from picking you up on his waist and carrying you to bed. “Ugh,” he gasps, breaking from your lips as you rub the palm of your hand against his rapidly growing bulge. “MC…”

“Remember what I told you, Lucifer,” you murmur against his lips before you shut him up, lightly tucking your fingertips underneath his shirt, stroking up his navel, into the crevice of his abdominal muscles. He relaxes a little with this little motion of yours, only to make a startled sound into your mouth as a high-pitched zip! hits the air. “You’re already like this?” you murmur against his ear as you run your thumb over his cock, straining to escape his underwear. You can feel Lucifer’s skin running hotter as you do so, his breath getting shorter. “Good boy.” 

“Hah…” Lucifer gasps softly before he mumbles a soft protest. 

“Oh? Then why’d your little soldier respond so eagerly, hm?” you tease, and a faint blush scatters over his cheeks as you take your time freeing his cock from its clothy confinement. It even starts to drip little white tears of gratitude. 

“...because evidently, I liked it,” he admits with a bit of an embarrassed chuckle. 

“You’re adorable,” you murmur sweetly, wrapping your hand around his member and half debating whether or not you wanted to wipe that calm look off his face by pushing him onto the bed and sucking on it. No, no, MC, work up to that. Make him orgasm in progressively more exciting ways. 

“Right back at you,” Lucifer replies, breathless as he watches you intently, his hands rubbing your waist up and down, up and down. “And incredibly fucking tempting.” He squeezes your hips, a naughty grunt slipping past his teeth when you give his wanting tip some special attention.

“But you’re very good at resisting, aren’t you, darling? You’re doing so well, Lucifer.” 

“Shit,” he groans before you kiss him again, stroking him much harder, and an almost needy moan sinks into your mouth. Ugh, I want to make him cum his brains out. “Mnn… mmm…” You can feel how close he is just by his kiss as he stops all forms of playful resistance, his lip twitching faintly as he tries not to close his mouth. His erection is just as antsy, right about ready to burst. 

“Go on, sweetheart. Cum for me,” you whisper against his lips, panting, before you swallow his soft, reluctant moan as he coats your hand in his sticky, off-white semen. “See? You’re a good boy, Lucifer.” You ruffle your clean hand into his hair, and he leans into your touch, closing his eyes and blushing badly at his own actions. His tired face already looks relaxed. “Come on. Let’s go sit on the bed.” 

And, as if to get back at you for how embarrassed he was, he unexpectedly squeezes your ass—hard—in both hands. You almost yelp, and you smack his ass in return, making him chuckle as you shake your hand with a wince. 

He does not protest as you push him onto the edge of the bed, his lips parted as if waiting for another kiss, and you decide to grant his wish. He deserves some thorough spoiling for all that work he does. 

“Take your shirt off for me,” you order, and as he does so after a moment of hesitation, you finally pay some attention to your white-slicked hand. Without breaking eye contact with Lucifer, you lick his semen off, watching him grip his covers while his demon form starts to slip out at the undoubtedly crude sight. 

“MC, please… if you don’t want me to attack you right now, tie me up,” he grinds out as you suck two fingers slowly before letting them pop out of your mouth. “I can’t restrain myself for this.” 

“Yes, you can,” you soothe, laying your hands on his thighs. “But if you want me to get the rope out from under the bed, that’s a different story…” You lean towards his ear to bite the shell. “Your cum is very thick and rich, by the way.” 

You can tell, as you lean back, that he’s so close to snapping and railing you into oblivion that he’s nearly glaring at you with lust. If your sex wasn’t dripping before, it is now. 

“I don’t want you to,” he mumbles, slowly relaxing his muscles, one by one. “But I do want to be… obedient for you.” He has to grind out the last words, his face flushing a little again as he averts his eyes from yours. 

“But you’re already being so obedient,” you reply gently, kissing his neck. “Being my perfect demon. Don’t be so hard on yourself, honey. You’re doing just fine.” A rewarding little groan slips out of his throat, and you kiss down to his collarbone, offering him a gentle nibble. 

“MC, I really can’t do this,” he rasps out as you rub your fingers up and down his chest, going around to his back to rub firm little circles on his lower back. You wordlessly and gently hush him with the finger of your other hand as he tries to continue before you lower your head again to kiss near one of his nipples. You desperately wish in that second that he liked it when you toyed with them, but alas… 

Despite the fact that Lucifer fully shifts into his demon form as he loses patience, he doesn’t act on it as you work your way down his midsection, down his pretty abs. He is, however, much stiffer than you’d prefer, so you make sure to shower him with some extra praise for being so good for you. 

“That’s right, Lucifer. You’re doing it all by yourself.” You kiss his v-line. “I’m proud of you.” 

“Dammit, don’t do that to me,” he moans, covering his mouth. “Please don’t do what I hope you’re doing.” You almost laugh at him for purposely denying himself pleasure; there would be none of that tonight. 

“Why not?” you purr, your cheek practically rubbing his swollen, rosy-headed penis. His wings cutely flutter at the contact. “I want seconds… while it’s still hot.” You kiss his base, and one of his hands tangles into your hair, the veins on his forearm sharply standing out as he stopped himself from pulling. His expression screeches at you, screeches, that he wants to fill your mouth up so much that his seed will flow down your chin. Dear God, why did you make this sexy creature and piss him off? I mean, more for me, but still. “Can you do that for me, you absurdly sexy bastard?” Didn’t mean to add that last part, but I guess he liked that.

“Fuck me,” he groans obscenely as you kiss his tip, looking up at him. 

“Your moans are doing an excellent job of making me ready to fuck you, darling,” you rumble before you hornily close your lips around the tip of his cock, giving it a nice, long suck before you start taking more of it. More, until he’s hitting the back of your throat, and you moan softly onto him, restraining yourself from distracting yourself by rubbing your throbbing sex. Your body is already screaming at you, but you want to make sure he’s nice and warmed up for the main event. 

Every movement of your tongue, every bob, every lick, every hollowing your cheeks makes Lucifer grunt, moan, and even whimper a little. Louder and filthier for you, as if he’s trying to beg for you to hurry up and fuck him without saying it. 

“Do you… like that, MC?” He smiles down at you, his cheeks still pink as he grips your hair harder at the root. “Do… you like my cock? How it feels…ugh… inside your mouth?” He just wants praise now. That’s really cute.

“Mmm hm,” you hum onto him, sucking him harder and making his breath catch. You moan onto him as you fondle his balls with one hand, making him tighten his hold on your hair. He can’t stop himself from bobbing your head a few times right before he splatters the inside of your mouth, his wings spreading wide and trembling. 

“MC!” he gasps out, panting as he watches you slowly let go of him, licking a streak off his length that escaped your mouth. When you swallow everything, he flops backwards into the bed, his eyes almost rolling back into his head before they refocus on the ceiling. For once, his thoughts are written on his face—that felt so fucking good; I needed this so bad… 

“I do love your cock, Lucifer,” you finally say, impatiently shedding your clothes, practically throwing them to the floor with annoyance. “It’s absolutely perfect for filling me the way I want it. And it feels amazing when it’s inside me.”

Lucifer ogles your body as you crawl on top of him, smiling before you kiss him again. He doesn’t seem to mind tasting himself as he hugs you close to him gratefully, almost crying as you cup his cheek. “You had a hard week, honey… You did such an excellent job like you always do, and I love you even when I don’t see you; you’re breathtaking from those horns down to your sweet personality…” You litter his neck with kisses. “Just let me take care of you tonight, okay?”

“Yes, please,” he groans before he goes right back to kissing you, his blissful tears spilling from the corners of his eyes, his hands rubbing your back. “Please praise me more… reward me. Make love to me; I need you.” 

“Finally asking for what you want,” you purr as you get ready to lower yourself onto him, kissing the corner of his lips. “Good boy.”

[kokofromwattpad]

THE BELOVED SERVANT

Featuring: The Agriche Family

Plot: You have been working under the Agriches for all your life. The family held you on an extremely high pedestal of excellence. After all, you are their beloved servant.

Cw: yandere!Agriche family x GN!reader, ooc characters (obvi), unhealthy habits

A/N: I was re-reading 'The Way To Protect The Female Lead’s Older Brother' and this idea just kinda spawned from it.

LANTE AGRICHE:

Lante had originally hired your then pregnant mother to work for his family since she was one of the best and most submissive servants he's met. He also hired her because of the fact that she was pregnant, which meant that he would have another servant working under him for free. Since you grew up surrounded by insanity, blood, gore and death, you were quite used to it by the time you had turned 16. He decided that he would have you accompany him and son, Dion, on beast hunting whenever your schedule was open. You also went along just to get some practice in and build some muscle. He is forever surprised at how strong you are and kinda admires your strength and power.

SIERRA AGRICHE:

Sierra was very close with your mother and actually became best friends with even before you were born! She loved spending time with you and would spend hours upon hours speaking about you with you. Whenever you left her side, she felt a feeling of paranoia go ever her in waves, which gets stronger the longer you are away from her. When you would return to her, she would try and beg you to never leave her side again as she was worried that you would get hurt (even though you could take out a fully grown man with one punch in the jaw).

MARIA AGRICHE:

You were often ordered to help at Maria's many tea parties. The only reason why you did not die when you were younger for making any mistakes was because you had a cute round face that Maria just swooned at. She would sometimes even pinch your cheeks so hard that it would turn red and swollen. One time, when you made an accident by spilling some tea on the ground, your mother slapped you on the back of your head for doing that. Maria, having seen all of this, grew furious with your mother and banished her to forever live in the dungeons of the estate. Maria consoled you afterwards and even taught you how to maintain a better posture so that an accident like this would not happen again.

DION AGRICHE:

Dion and you grew up together, since the both of you were close in age and had similar hobbies and opinions. Dion always liked training with you and whenever you would beat him, he would always just smile and admit defeat with a kind grin on his face. Later, when he started going through puberty, he developed a massive crush on, but because he is just such a great actor, you never noticed or just didn't care to acknowledge it. One day, Dion ordered that you get dressed up in your finest clothes, and when you were done, he snapped a photo of you and placed it in a long golden locket he specially bought just for this.

GRIZELDA AGRICHE:

Grizelda has had a special attachment to you. She loves it when you do her hair in the mornings and trains with you in the afternoons. Whenever you were ordered to feed the beasts, she would stand in the corner and just admire you the whole time, she knew that you were strong enough to survive without her assistance. Grizelda sometimes makes you take walks with her by the greenhouses and the two of you just talk about anything and everything that there is to be spoken about.

ROXANA AGRICHE:

Roxana saw you as a figure of power and skill. She would watch as you would drag toys by their hair with one arm to the dungeons for one of her unnamed half siblings to play with. When the poisonous butterflies hatched, even though it caused her a lot of pain, she would always have at least one of them near you that she can keep updated on your whereabouts. When the two of you were younger, she loved it when every night, you pull up a chair and read her bedtime story so that she sleep better. After her brother died during the test, she would cling to you where ever you were to keep you safe and sound. Sometimes, when she was in a good mood, she would let you play and style her hair, it calmed her down and made her feel content.

JEREMY AGRICHE:

Jeremy actually picked up his cheekiness from you when he was still young and impressionable. No matter where you are, Jeremy can and will find you. He is always clinging onto your arm while you do your everyday tasks. Whenever you go beast hunting with his father and older brother, he would always cry and beg that you wouldn't go so that you could stay with him. But when Dion forcefully places you on your horse, he is cursing at his brother like he is in a bar fight. Once you arrive back with your winnings, he praises you and your skill and beg you to teach him so that he can become strong just like you, his role-model.

CHARLOTTE AGRICHE:

Charlotte is an attention hog, even more that Jeremy if that's possible. She loves watching you drag toys as if they don't weigh anything. To put it simple, you're her torture buddy. When the new toy went to her older sister instead of her, she went crying to you while you were sleeping to try and gain your sympathy. You honestly just comforted her so that she could let you sleep in peace. Whenever you show off even an ounce of her strength, she claims you as hers and will comment stuff like, 'That's my assistant!'

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

[hismourningflower]

— OLD HABITS kaeya x gn!reader | angst, insecure kaeya | 538 words. cw. alcohol, break-ups, hinted unhealthy relationship, hurt/no comfort, mentions of kaeya's past & crepus' death, not proofread. note. i'm hurting so kaeya hurts too.

perhaps KAEYA knew better than to delve into something so precious, fragile. he knew better than to be trusted with your delicate heart, to hold it in his rough, calloused hands and cradle it close to his chest. part of him was convinced that he deserved this; he deserved to know what love was and have a safe, secure place to call home. a house that isn't made of anger, regret nor shouting. no walls with holes punched into them, no stormy nights curled up under bedsheets letting the rain drown out his cries. he deserved to know what it was like for someone to stay by his side.

but kaeya also knew that he wouldn't achieve that with you. nothing on your behalf, never - kaeya couldn't blame for you for anything to save his own life, he loved you too much. it was all kaeya, every time he saw his own reflection in the bathroom mirror of your shared house in the mirror before he left for work. every time he stared out of the knights of favonius's headquarters' windows at the sunset, the one he should have been watching with you on a plaid crocheted blanket at starsnatch cliff.

old habits die hard, they burn until the flame ceases to exist and with them, they take the most precious thing you're not ready to say goodbye to. as kaeya stands at the foot of the bed, staring at the untouched sheets specifically where you would lay, he determines that he's learnt his lesson. the faint stench of wine on his breath, his mind foggy as tears brim that eye of his, dark and resembling the darkest depths of the ocean that teyvat dare not touch. they sting, a choked sob leaving a bitter taste in his mouth when reality sets in.

drinking isn't going to solve it. it's not going to bring you back, not win you over and convince you he's worthy of your fragile heart and devoted love. that he's a changed man and will learn from his past mistakes. he wants to pull you flush into his chest, his arms wrapped around your shoulders and unwilling to let you go as he tells you he loves you, repeating it like a mantra. kaeya would give anything in teyvat just to have a second chance at loving you, treating you better and teaching you that by the archons, he can love and he will love.

but the wardrobe is void of your things; your favourite glass to drink water out of in the mornings is dried and placed back in the cabinet, not on your nightstand. your pillow is cold with not a crease in it - kaeya refuses to lay on your side of the bed, - and most importantly, he can't hear that laugh of yours he was so in love with. the melodic sound of it drowning out the pain of his past, the trauma that bubbled in his chest whenever it storms and suddenly he can see crepus' body again, a moment too late.

old habits die hard, maybe he'd already learnt that lesson and simply chose to ignore it in a blind form of love, praying that this time was different.

⊹˚₊‧───────────────‧₊˚⊹

© thexianzhoujade 2024. | reblogs appreciated | do not re-upload, copy, translate, etc. my works on any form of media.

[queenofthekings]

ᴘʟᴀʏɪɴɢ ᴡɪᴛʜ ꜰɪʀᴇ, ᴘᴀʀᴛ ɪ (ꜱᴇʀɪᴇꜱ ʜᴇʀᴇ)

Summary: You are part of the biggest girl group on the planet, Eddie is the face of the biggest rock band of the century. A chance meeting at Coachella sends both of you into what would be the biggest love affair in music history; if only people knew about it.

Pairing: Rockstar!Eddie x K-Pop Idol!Reader

Author's note: My love for K-Pop and Stranger Things/Eddie Munson in one fic? It's more likely than you think. If you don't know much/anything about the K-Pop world, not to worry, I'll be going over some of it in this fic! I'll try to keep the Korean honorific names to a minimum but I do wanna try to keep things as plausible as possible.

Disclaimer: In this fic, I have specified that Reader is not Korean or Asian. As someone who is white; I didn't feel it was right to write a POC character. Please be respectful.

CW: 18+, mentions of unhealthy eating habits, obsessive fan behaviour, toxic work environments, swearing, a little NSFW content, sexting, no use of Y/N but Reader's stage name is Luna.

Tagging: @munsonsbtch @impmunson @binickmiller @ali-r3n @stevesjockstrap

Word count: 2.6k

Any hate will not be tolerated, constructive criticism is welcomed.

APRIL 2019

Coachella was the biggest music festival in the world and playing there was an honour and a privilege; and while Eddie knew this, he found a lot of the hype around it insufferable. He never felt like his band belonged up there with the lights of Beyonce and Justin Bieber, even when Corroded Coffin had exploded with popularity, the larger venues they’d play out would never compare to the smaller shows.

Disliking Coachella when you perform there is one story, disliking Coachella and ending up in the crowd of one of the most talked about acts of the whole festival another matter entirely. But somehow, Gareth had convinced him to leave the tour bus to watch one performance. Only one.

“Why are we even here?” Eddie yelled into Gareth’s ear, trying to make sure he was heard over the screaming and cheering fans that surrounded them. The show hadn’t even started yet but the crowd was already at deafening levels.

“I thought it was high time you experienced a new genre of music,” Gareth yelled back, giving him a smug grin. “Plus, I hear one of the members of the group is a fan of ours.”

Eddie shrugged, knowing that Gareth was right in saying it was time to experience some new music outside of his usual comfort zone. And given the way the stage was set, the flags and lightsticks people were waving and demographic of the crowd; this was definitely outside of his comfort zone. “Who even are they?” he asked, grabbing his phone from his pocket.

Before he had a chance to type a single letter into Google, Gareth took his phone and pulled up a Wikipedia page for the group. “This is them. And before say anything, don’t judge the group before you listen to them.”

Eddie raised an eyebrow at his bandmate before looking at the page, giving Gareth even more of the side-eye.

Chain Reaction is a South Korean girl group formed by YG Entertainment, consisting of members Yoohyeon, Luna, Dahyun, and Yuqi. The group debuted in August 2016 with the digital single “Whistle”.

“K-Pop? Really, Gareth?”

“I said not to judge!” Gareth shrugged, just as the music began starting, causing both of them to look up. Eddie’s ears were already beginning to ring from how loud the fans were screaming; he was used to hearing fans through his in-ear during shows, but this was on a whole other level. Eddie didn’t pay much attention until he noticed the cropped t-shirt on one of the members, recognising the design and logo.

His heart skipped a beat, his mouth dropping open as he looked at Gareth who took the words right out of his mouth, leaning over to shout directly into his ear. “Yup, that’s a Corroded Coffin shirt, she’s a massive fan.”

Eddie chuckled a little to himself, shouting back into Gareth’s ear. “Maybe this won’t be so bad.”

After a couple of songs, the group began their introduction, all speaking in perfect unison and bowing to the still screaming audience. “Hello, we are Chain Reaction!”

A girl with dyed dark blue hair spoke up first, clearly showing her leader position. “Hello, Coachella, my name is Yoohyeon and I’m so thankful you all came out to see us!”

The crowd screamed as a response, causing the group to laugh and clap long. Then you spoke up, your long blonde hair making you stand out against the other members. “Hello, everyone,” you began, and Eddie’s heart instantly melted at your soft voice, especially at your accent. “My name is Luna, and I hope you enjoy the show.” You bowed a little, pulling down your shirt a little to make sure it wasn’t exposing too much.

As the other members introduced themselves, Eddie could hardly focus on them, he was far too interested in staring at you. He vaguely knew Yuqi had natural dark brown hair and Dahyun had dark purple hair – the only way he knew he could remember to tell them apart, probably a move from their manager so people could tell the difference.

Gareth noticed him staring, giving him a nudge. “Somebody’s got a crush.”

He glared back. “I just think she’s cute, completely not my type.”

Gareth gave him the look of “yeah, we’ll see about that”, already knowing that Eddie would at least attempt to hook up with you after the show. It was inevitable, it happened at any event or show he attended. The only thing Eddie Munson loved more than music, was women. It was rare if his hotel room didn’t have a groupie in it; and being the biggest rock band in the world meant there was an abundance of them wherever they went, Eddie would always have one on his arm by the end of the night.

Although the idea of you and Eddie together was adorable – a rock legend and a pop princess together? You’d be media darlings – although Gareth knew it would be like playing with fire. The fans of both of your groups would rip both of you and the relationship apart, the constant invasion of privacy from fans and the press alike would be almost unbearable.

But that’s the downside to being a public figure and dating someone just as well-known as you are.

Eddie wasn’t known for long term dating, either. The longest relationship Gareth had ever seen him in was his “high school sweetheart”, Chrissy Cunningham, only ended up lasting less than a year. Every other girl he’d been with wouldn’t last longer than a few weeks, he’d always blame it on his career, but Gareth knew that in reality, Eddie just didn’t want to be tied down to one person.

You, on the other hand, had no public relationship history. Being a K-Pop idol left almost no time for dating or even much of a social life outside of groupmates; and if a female idol was seen with a male idol outside of activities, fans would go wild and instantly assume they’re dating and usually boycott the idols for “betraying” them.

Once the group finished their final song; the crowd screamed and cheered, causing almost every member to look as if they were ready to burst into tears of happiness. The four of you joined hands to bow towards the audience as a thank you before you spoke up. “Coachella, we have been Chain Reaction; thank you very much and goodnight!”

Eddie kept his eyes on you, almost unable to take his eyes off you. You gave one last smile to the crowd, waving as you turned to lock eyes with Eddie. Even through the pandemonium that surrounded both of you, it all seemed to dissolve as if you were the only ones there.

You had to be almost dragged off the stage by your bandmates otherwise you would’ve spent all night just staring at Eddie. But even while you were being dragged off stage, you were desperately trying to find Eddie’s eyes again. You hoped you would be able to properly talk to him, even if you had to do it behind your manager’s back.

Backstage, the staff were cheering and applauding you and the band, giving their congratulations, and offering fans and water. You sprinted towards Yoohyeon, wrapping your arms tightly around your senior. The pair of you hugged tightly as you both broke down in floods of tears.

“This is all we ever dreamed of, unnie,” you sobbed, taking a tissue from a staff member to dab at your eyes, being careful not to ruin your makeup. Yoohyeon took the tissue from you and began trying to stop your tears. “I’m so proud of you.”

Yoohyeon laughed through her own tears, not caring if they ruined her makeup. “I’m proud of us, we’ve worked so hard for this, and you were perfect.”

You laughed a little through your tears, turning to the other two members and motioning them to come over and join in a group hug. Although there was only about a month between the two of you; Yoohyeon was definitely the older sister and mother of the group, and you were the baby sister who needed looking after and a lot of hugs.

You’d always been extremely close, even since your trainee days. Every night, you would tell each other that you’d debut together, no matter how hard you’d have to train or what you had to sacrifice.

But every member had sacrificed so much even to just get past the first audition; you’d given up school, friends, family, any chance of a normal life for one tiny shot at making it. But in that moment, all four of you knew that all the blood, sweat and tears you’d all poured into training was worth it. You’d all made it.

Walking arm in arm with Yoohyeon, the pair of you walked down the stairs to the artists area away from the stage, always looking back every few moments to check your younger bandmates were following behind both of you. You tapped Yoohyeon’s arm to stop her to let your members catch up, so all four of you could give your manager, Steve a celebratory hug.

As soon as you stepped into the artists area and saw Steve, you couldn’t control the excitement and relief of the performance; you screamed and sprinted towards him, jumping into his arms, and barely giving him enough time to catch you. You got on well with Steve, he became like a big brother to you and your fellow band members, even if he was a little strict with the four of you, but it certainly came out of a place of love and wanting the best for all of you.

“You were amazing out there,” Steve hugged you tightly, pressing a kiss to the side of your head as he slowly let you down out of his arms and handed you a water bottle with a straw in the top.

“Think we won ‘em over, boss?” You asked, smirking as you placed the straw in the side of your lips.

“Won them over? You guys have done more than that, Twitter is exploding, you’re the top five trends on Naver, you guys are all anyone’s talking about,” Steve grinned.

“We’ve made it!” You shouted in unison with your band mates, before all of you laughed and hugged. Sure, Chain Reaction was very successful in South Korea, but this was a whole new level of success and recognition. All eyes were on your group and despite that new level of pressure, you all thrived under it; the challenge was exciting to all of you.

Your bandmates took their seats and chatted excitedly amongst themselves, while you leaned against the wall, taking in every moment around you. You hadn’t even realised you’d zoned out until Eddie was stood in front of you. ���I know I’m beautiful, but you could at least take a picture if you’re gonna look that much,” he smirked.

You blinked a million times in a second, partly to snap yourself out of your zoned out state but also partly because you could hardly believe your eyes that Eddie Munson – the Eddie Munson – was stood in front of you. You’d been starstruck almost ever since you arrived in California several days beforehand, but this was on a whole other level.

The memories of listening to Corroded Coffin late at night during your trainee days flashed through your mind a million miles an hour, how much their lyrics kept you going when you thought you might quit and how you’d spend so much of your free time watching their performances, hooked on Eddie’s stage presence.

And now he was here in front of you, talking to you.

It was all so surreal.

You blinked again, clearing your throat. “Sorry, I completely zoned out.”

Eddie laughed, nodding his head. “Happens to a lot of people, did you wanna get out of here? Go somewhere a little quieter?”

You nodded and before you could even say a word, Eddie took your hand and led you out of the area and around the back of the crowds of staff and tents, towards Corroded Coffin’s tour bus. You somewhat wanted to protest but you weren’t about to stop this once in a lifetime chance to talk with Eddie, so you kept your mouth shut as he opened the door for you to get inside before following you inside.

“Don’t worry, everyone else is enjoying the festival, they’re not gonna be back for a while. Can I get you a drink?” He asked, moving past you towards a small fridge.

You bit your bottom lip as you walked through the bus, taking a seat at the table. “Just some water… or a Coke if you have it.”

“Lucky for you,” he pulled the fridge door open and pulled out a water bottle and a small can of Coke, placing both on the table before sitting down opposite you. “I have both.”

You smiled softly as you took both drinks, taking a long sip of the cold water. “I suppose I haven’t really introduced myself; everyone calls me Luna,” you held out your hand towards Eddie.

Instead of shaking it, he took it and pressed a kiss to the back of your hand. “And what’s the name your mother gave you? Not the name the company gave you.”

Blushing darkly, you whispered out your birth name. It had been so long since anyone had even asked your real name that “Luna” more or less became your real name. But Eddie seemed to actually want to get to know you, the kiss on the hand was just a cherry on top.

“Beautiful name,” he mused. “It suits you better than the crappy stage name they gave you. How’d you even allow it to happen?”

You laughed softly as you took your hand back, wrapping it around the Coke can. “I was sixteen and very naïve when I came to Korea.”

“You were only sixteen?”

You nodded. “I auditioned for the company when I was about sixteen and then I moved to South Korea a few months later, it all happened pretty fast when I look back at it. I debuted when I was twenty.”

He sat back in the chair. “Looks like we debuted at the same age, I was twenty when our first album came out.”

“I never realised that! I listened to you guys throughout my whole trainee period, it really helped keep the passion for music alive for me.”

He smiled softly. “Well I’m glad it helped at least one person, that’s all that matters honestly. So… tell me more about you.”

You smiled back at him, leaning forward in your chair to get closer to him, beginning to babble about yourself, all the while he just looked at you with such care in his eyes, hooked on your every word.

After almost an hour, talk got to your company and just how hard it was being an idol. “Under contract, we’re not allowed to; drive, buy a car, smoke, drink, date, go clubbing, get plastic surgery, get tattoos, travel for a holiday, write and produce our own music, have control over our own money or our image. We can’t even show our faces in vlogs our friends have made.”

He raised his eyebrows. “I’m pretty sure that’s slavery.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Trust me, this is heaven compared to how contracts used to be.”

He chuckled a little, placing a hand over yours. “Listen, I should let you get back to your members or your manager might have my head, but could I get your number and we could do this again sometime?”

You smiled, nodding. “Of course.”

[ddaz3d-and-cc0nfused]

Could I request wanda x f!reader who maybe came home from a bad day at work and becomes a porcupine type personality and pushes people away when she worries and Wanda cuddles her and knows just what to do? :) love your stories!!

fem!plus size reader, wc: 321

a/n: SUPER SWEET GIRLFRIEND WANDA TO THE RESCUE!!

cw! slight warning for unhealthy coping habits!

At this point, you started to question whether or not homelessness was all that bad. You could hardly stand your boss let alone your coworkers. You hated that the only way you knew how to cope with your stress was to stick to yourself, and you knew that not only was hurting you, but also your girlfriend.

As you came home, you didn’t bother to greet Wanda, heading straight to your bedroom where you had begun to strip out of your work clothes, tossing them carelessly at your hamper without even knowing if they made it in or not.

“Honey?” You heard Wanda call out to you from the couch. You didn’t answer her as you got out your pajamas and laying them out on your bed. Her feet padded against the floors before she leant against the frame of the door.

“Honey, what’s wrong?” She asked in concern. You just shrugged, not bothering to give her an answer as you pulled your shirt over your head, followed by pulling up your pants. “Nothing.” You said simply before sliding under the covers. She just sighed, following you into bed.

She knew that you had only gotten like this when work was rough, and she wanted nothing more than to give those assholes a piece of her mind for hurting her sweet lover. Her arm moved to wrap around you, and you just went limp, allowing her to pull you into her chest where you nuzzled into her bosom.

“Now, what’s wrong?” She asked once more. You had finally broken down, tears staining her shirt as you gripped on the material for dear life, like an anchor. “Everyone sucks.” You mumbled through your tears. You could feel her laugh reverberate against the side of your face. “I know baby, I know.” She said comfortingly, running a hand up and down your back.

“’M sorry.” She just sighed. “It’s okay darling, I understand.”

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