#except instead of hatred it’s annoyance

[balteredsworld]

turning point. gregory house

🥼🩺 | you and house despise each other. today's supposed to be any other night, but house kisses you.

warnings/tags! light enemies-to-lovers, angst if you squint your eyes, younger woman x older man, emotional revelations, no dialogue, and they kiss!

masterlist : greg house n all

a/n: i can't believe people are sending in things in my inbox wow if you have any requests/ideas or little topics of conversations don't shy away and send them my way! enjoy ducklings <3

house reaches for your wrist, taking you into his grasp, and pulling you flush against his body. you jolt at the sudden motion, left hand landing and pressing on his chest. sure eyes linger on your face for a fraction of a second. beauty eclipsing any and all thought working the cogs in his busy mind. all he thinks to himself is how breathtaking you are in this moment.

many a time the two of you would rather bicker, almost estranged in your sidings with cuddy. but you were legally bound by contract to side with her, serving as a board member this year.

tonight’s no different, you’re here because of house’s opposition to a hospital policy you and the board proposed. he’s been on a childish campaign to get you to concede to his wishes, after all he does whatever he wants in the hospital. but he makes a deductive confession that changes the tune of your usual argument. and tonight’s a little different, with it being the annual gala.

you wear this burgundy dress off some runway that he makes note of, and he’s in his well-pressed, well-tailored suit. you came here to declare a truce, but instead you let house press your buttons, somehow finding yourself ending the argument against his chest.

house’s hand snakes its way to the nook of your back. then, his lips were latched onto yours. he's kissing you.

gregory house is kissing you.

your tense body melts into his touch, reciprocating the kiss despite your initial surprise. you loop an arm around his neck, pushing him closer to you, causing the two of you to wobble, but he steadies your weight and deepens the kiss.

it’s sweet, passionate, and almost desparate, as if this was years of yearning. but you’re not so illusioned that you mistake this as something other than all your anger and hostility towards each other finally being squeeze out by the force of your locked lips—into this kiss.

it’s a kiss the two of you unknowingly wanted, hidden underneath the veneer of your harsh and clashing words. you’re not afraid to argue with house, equally venomous with your tongue during your time as a defence lawyer. and house is the same, sharpened tongue to prove his correctness in principle.

but you two fear that you’ve exposed yourselves to the possibility of tragedy. maybe it's because you two have been really eyeing each other all along, testing how you could handle each other. never once have you failed, nor has house. that scared you shitless, but the moment’s well worth it. house makes good work with his lips, and you float in some sort of heaven, feeling the frustration finally rupture. and he feels the same.

slowly, you both pull away from each other, breathless and flushed. you don’t pull away immediately, staying interlocked in his grasp. your eyes are both down cast, not quite refusing to look at the other, but rather frozen and unsure where to look. despite it, house’s eyes radiate blue.

it’s too intimate for you and house, and yet you keep still. he’s kept to himself all these years, only to have you cut into his bubble between the hookers he distracts himself with. he thinks that’s where his resentment of you stems from, but it’s never really been quite hatred, he realizes. you’re the same, lonelier than you would like to admit. no one, so it seemed, could tug on your heartstrings except this man you found nothing but annoyance for.

house is perplexed. his mouth is agape, nothing quite registering to allow his neurons to fire and form words. something of his old self manifests, and a warm feeling feathers his heart. a touch like this was no stranger to that ghost, but all the other flirtations he makes falls in comparison. there’s only you and him

his sense are faint yet heightened, just from his proximity to you. biologically speaking, he’s doing really well, and he can hear his pulse pounding, and feel yours mirror his. he’s forgotten what this feels like, but sure it was this, and that makes his heart race faster. it’s almost dizzying.

house continues to direct his eyes on your curled hair, unsure of how to look at you. he considers leaving without another word, but he feels stuck to you.

you mirror house, too dazed to do anything. an overwhelming euphoria shoots through you, the sort of nervous excitement that makes you feel like a teenager. you’re younger than house, and you bite your cheek like you were 17 with your crush. you’re all too aware of your inexperience now, unsure with your wild heart. nevertheless, you muster the courage to finally break your trance. so you push on his chest lightly, finally meeting his eyes.

you blink. he’s tall.

the realization makes you swallow nervously. you open your mouth, but like house, nothing quite comes out. your hand still rests on his chest, feeling the rhythm of his pulsing heart. you try again, this time with house. both of your lips fall open, tongue failing again. but his eyes are enough. all you want to do is kiss him, so you lean in and kiss him again.

luckily for you, house always wants to kiss you.

[leighheartz]

APOCALYPSE

part I survivor!sanemi x survivor!reader

Content: AFAB reader; enemies to lovers... sorta; kinda slow burn; fluff; angsty man, Sanemi struggles with expressing his feelings; lots of violence; description of gore, AKA descriptions of humans being eaten alive and dead; monster..zombie things?; No smut yet

Author's Note: It cut me off at a certain point, sorry! MDNI

Sanemi hated you. He hated the way your face shifted when you made eye contact with him, your lips twitching downwards in disdain. He hated how you argued with him when you were paired together for a Science project, claiming "All his ideas sucked," and that "You shouldn't have even been paired with him." He hated that you were so nice to everyone except him, and he could never put his finger on it. Was it because of the look he gave you when the teacher assigned your seat next to his? Was it because of that one time he bumped into you and made you spill your tray? It was unfair. - Sanemi walked into his first class for the morning, steaming cup of coffee held haphazardly as he trudged to his seat. Right beside you. He spared you a glance, his (hardly there) brows furrowing in annoyance. You were glaring at him again, barely trying to hide the hatred burning in your eyes. The man scoffed in response to the look you were giving him, turning to look at the front of the room. Mr. Ubuyashiki wasn't here yet. Typical. Sanemi, for the first time in maybe his entire life, tried to make small talk with you. "No insult today, huh Y/n?" Your head flipped toward him, admittedly pretty face scrunched into a grimace. He assumed you were about to throw a retort back at him, but as soon as your mouth opened there was a scream in the hallway. The scream was blood-curdling, and the silence that followed after filled the air with a sense of dread. Everyone's gazes shot toward the closed door. One curious, yet dumb girl decided to stand up, approaching the door. Her shaky hand turned the knob slowly, hesitantly. She peered out, looking both ways before opening it fully. She took a step out and looked around. The girl then turned back around, with a relieved smile. "It's fi-" It happened so fast. One second, she's alive. The next, she's on the floor, gone. That's not the scariest part, it's the thing that's on top of her. Its eating her. The sound is disgusting, and Sanemi almost throws up. He's unable to move, unable to react as he watches the thing eat the poor girl. There's only a moment of silence, only a moment of listening to the thing chew into her flesh before the screams break out. Shit. His baby brother is in danger. Genya. How is he supposed to get out of this god forsaken room when that thing is chowing down on a body in front of the door. Worst of all, the screaming is attracting another one. He decided to go for the next best option. Hiding. He grabs Y/n's arm and pulls you under the table, his head hitting it with a 'thunk!' He ignores the pain, instead focusing on remaining silent. That's when she notices the tears streaming down your cheeks. Sanemi is not a man of sweet words or gestures, he is not there for your comfort. But, he knew you were scared, so he did the only thing he could do. - You were frozen in horror as you watched the monster feast on your classmate's flesh, mind hardly coming to the fact that tears had escaped your eyes. You only came to your senses when you were tugged under the table by Sanemi, trying to frantically wipe away your tears so he wouldn't see your weakness. He had made a smart move. The tables were covered by cloth that hung over the edges, concealing anything that might be under them. The thoughts subsided as you felt a pair of strong arms wrap around you, albeit awkwardly. You couldn't help but lean closer to his warmth, giving up on holding back your tears. With your face buried into his shoulder, you sobbed and sobbed until your eyes ran dry. He comforted you through your tears, large hands caressing your back lightly. Despite the comforting motions, he was as stiff as a board, as if this was unfamiliar to him. "Shh..it's ok." he soothed "Gotta stay quiet so they don't hear us, alright?" - This would be like a dream for Sanemi if he hadn't just watched so many people die, the memory playing in his head on loop. He didn't know how to react when you leaned closer, stiffening. Stomping approached the table, an inhuman clicking sounding out.

Shit.

[enemiestolovershoe]

I'd like to read an enemies to lovers (or fuckers😀) story with Folio. I'd try to write one by myself but got stucked. I have no ideas and it got so boring at a certain point😕

Just Pretend

Nick Folio x enemy!ruffilo!reader

Summary: Y/N and Nick Folio, longtime enemies, share an unexpected night that blurs the lines between hatred and passion, forcing them to confront their true feelings.

Words: 5.8k

Warnings: SMUT 18+, oral (f receiving), enemies to fuckers to lovers, unprotected p in v, swearing, alcohol and weed use, let me know if i missed something

Disclaimer: While the characters in this story are inspired by real people, the events and interactions are purely fictional and not reflective of reality.

The roar of the crowd outside the venue was deafening, but inside the tour bus, it was a cozy kind of chaos. You had been tagging along on your brother Ruffilo's tours for years, but this time, things were different. This time, you weren’t just his sibling hanging out backstage—you were officially part of the crew as their photographer.

The guys in the band had welcomed you with open arms, treating you like family. Noah was a laid-back source of constant laughter; Jolly had an almost brotherly protectiveness about him, and Nicholas made sure you were always in the loop, a constant conspirator in his antics.

All except Nick Folio.

From the very first moment you were introduced, he had been… cold. Polite, sure, but with a distinct undercurrent of disdain. He didn’t even try to hide it. And so, like clockwork, every exchange with him ended in tension or a biting remark.

“Hey, Folio, hold still a second,” you said, camera poised in hand as you stood backstage before the band’s soundcheck. You were collecting candids for their social media feed, and Folio—drumming sticks in hand, absently tapping out a beat on his thigh—was an ideal subject.

He glanced at you, clearly unimpressed. “Is this absolutely necessary right now?”

You lowered the camera slightly and raised an eyebrow. “It’s kind of my job, so yeah.”

“Right. Well, maybe take pictures of someone who wants their picture taken.” He gestured toward Noah, who was sprawled on a couch nearby, unbothered.

“Maybe try being a little less—”

“Less what?” he shot back, cutting you off, his tone sharper than your camera lens.

“You know what? Never mind.” You huffed and pivoted on your heel, snapping a quick candid of Noah instead.

“Wow,” Noah said from the couch, grinning up at you. “Tension so thick I could cut it with a knife. Should I be worried about you two killing each other?”

“I wouldn’t be caught dead,” you quipped, casting a pointed glance at Folio, who muttered something under his breath and walked away.

Later that evening, after the show, the bus hummed with post-gig energy. Jolly and Nicholas were sitting at the small dining booth, sorting through setlists and chatting about tomorrow’s itinerary. You had your laptop open, editing the photos from the night, when Noah flopped down on the couch beside you.

“So,” he began, voice dripping with curiosity, “what’s the deal with you and Folio?”

“There is no deal,” you said, focusing on your screen.

“Come on,” Noah pressed. “You two are either mortal enemies or secretly in love.”

You shot him a look. “Definitely not the second one.”

Noah grinned, undeterred. “I don’t know. Enemies to lovers is, like, a classic trope. You’re already halfway there.”

“Not happening,” you replied firmly.

From across the room, Folio chimed in. “Trust me, Noah. She’s the last person I’d go for.”

You felt your face heat up but refused to look at him. “Right back at you.”

Nicholas glanced up from the table, amused. “Why do you two hate each other so much, anyway?”

“It’s not hate,” you said quickly. “It’s just… strong mutual disinterest.”

“Strong mutual annoyance,” Folio corrected.

“Strong mutual agreement that we’ll never get along,” you added.

Jolly shook his head, smiling faintly. “You two should probably figure it out. We’ve got, what, six more months on the road together?”

“Oh, joy,” Folio deadpanned, grabbing a water bottle and retreating to his bunk.

You exhaled and turned back to your screen, refusing to let him ruin your mood. But as you scrolled through the photos, you paused on one of him mid-performance. The way his focus bled into every movement, the passion in his expression—it was captivating, even if he wasn’t your favorite person.

Noah leaned over, peering at the screen. “You’re staring at Folio’s photo.”

“Shut up, Noah.”

“I’m just saying,” he teased, his grin widening.

You shoved him lightly, but your thoughts lingered on the image a little longer than you’d like to admit.

You were just settling into your bunk, sighing at the blessed comfort of your pillow, when the curtain whipped open without warning.

“Not happening,” Nicholas announced, grinning down at you like an older sibling on a mission to ruin your peace.

You groaned, rolling over to glare at him. “What now?”

Noah appeared beside him, holding up a bottle of cheap whiskey like it was a trophy. “Drinking time!”

“You’re kidding me,” you muttered. “I just finished hours of editing, and now you want me to drink… this?” You pointed accusingly at the bottle.

“Don’t be dramatic,” Nicholas said, grabbing your arm and pulling you upright. “It’s family time.”

“You’ll have plenty of time to sleep later,” Noah added with a grin. “Another Fourteen hours of driving. You’ll get your beauty rest.”

Grumbling under your breath, you slid out of the bunk and followed them to the back lounge. The door swung open, and the familiar chaos of the bus’s “living room” hit you: Jolly and Matt were already there, and of course, Folio was sprawled on the couch with his ever-present phone.

His eyes flicked up as you walked in, and his expression soured instantly. “Oh, great. Just who I was hoping to see.”

“Likewise,” you shot back, rolling your eyes as you dropped onto the couch between Noah and your brother Ruffilo.

Folio’s gaze lingered on you for a moment before he muttered, “Perfect,” and went back to scrolling on his phone.

Jolly, seated at the small counter with another whiskey bottle and a lineup of mismatched cups, started pouring. “Let’s get this going,” he said, handing the first cup to Ruffilo and then making his way around the group.

You took your cup hesitantly, eyeing the dark liquid with skepticism. “Why does it always have to be whiskey?” you asked, grimacing after your first sip. “Can’t we just smoke a joint?”

“Or,” Folio said, cutting in with a raised eyebrow, “it could be both.” He reached into his hoodie pocket and pulled out two pre-rolled joints, holding them up like an offering.

The room broke into laughter, except for Ruffilo, who narrowed his eyes at you. “Wait a second. Since when do you smoke sis?”

You froze for a split second before shrugging casually. “Oops, I guess?”

“Oops?” Ruffilo repeated, his tone heavy with older-brother judgment. “That’s the best you’ve got?”

“It’s not a big deal,” you replied, unfazed. “You’ve done worse.”

Noah snickered from your left. “She’s got you there, Ruff.”

“She does not—” Ruffilo started, but Jolly cut him off with a raised cup.

“Let it go, man,” Jolly said. “We’re here to relax, not get into a family drama.”

Ruffilo muttered something under his breath but didn’t press the issue.

You laughed, taking another sip of whiskey. 

Matt, perched in the corner with his own drink, gestured toward Noah. “You’re awfully quiet for the guy who brought the whiskey.”

“I’m conserving my energy,” Noah replied with a smirk. “You’ll see.”

The conversation flowed easily after that. Nicholas regaled the group with a story about their worst soundcheck in recent memory, complete with dramatic impressions of the tech crew. Matt jumped in with corrections, adding just enough dry wit to keep everyone laughing.

But as much as you tried to focus on the banter, your attention kept drifting to Folio. Every sarcastic comment he made, every smug look, grated on your nerves like nails on a chalkboard. At one point, he interrupted Noah mid-story, correcting him about a setlist detail, earning a round of groans.

“Folio,” you said, leaning back against the couch, “do you ever get tired of being that guy?”

“Do you ever get tired of being this annoying?” he shot back without missing a beat.

“You’re both insufferable,” Ruffilo muttered, downing the rest of his whiskey.

Nicholas chuckled, nudging you. “You sure you two don’t secretly love each other?”

“Absolutely not,” you said quickly.

“Never,” Folio added at the same time, his tone as sharp as yours.

The group burst into laughter, and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes. You knew the teasing wouldn’t stop anytime soon—not with this crowd.

The hours flew by in a haze of laughter, music, and the warmth of shared intoxication. The six of you were a mess of empty cups, lingering smoke, and bad jokes, none of which made sense anymore but were hilarious in the moment. Matt was the first to call it a night, mumbling something about needing to be “semi-functional” in the morning. Jolly and Ruffilo followed soon after, Ruffilo slapping Noah on the back in a half-drunken show of affection before disappearing toward his bunk.

That left you, Noah, and Folio.

“Can I go to bed without worrying that you two are going to kill each other?” Noah yawned, rubbing his eyes as he stretched lazily.

You smiled at him, your earlier annoyance fading. “Yeah, go to bed, Noah. We’ll be fine.”

Noah raised an eyebrow, clearly skeptical, but decided to take your word for it. “All right… but if I wake up to a murder scene, I’m blaming both of you.”

“Goodnight, Noah,” you said with a chuckle, waving him off.

“Goodnight,” he mumbled, disappearing through the door.

And then there were two.

The air grew heavier as silence settled over the room, broken only by the faint hum of the bus engine and the occasional tap of your thumb against your phone screen. You’d pulled out a game to distract yourself, but the tension between you and Folio was almost palpable.

It didn’t help that he hadn’t moved from his spot on the couch, leaning back lazily with one arm draped over the backrest, watching you like he was waiting for something.

After a few minutes, you gave up pretending the game was holding your attention. You glanced at him, hesitating before speaking. “Do you… uh… have another joint, maybe?”

Folio raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised by the question. “You sure?”

“Yeah, why not?” you replied, your patience already wearing thin.

He smirked, leaning forward slightly. “Because I’ve never seen you smoke before, Y/N. And I don’t want to be the oneresponsible when you pass out or freak out.”

Your jaw tightened at his tone, his words igniting the familiar irritation that always seemed to surface when he spoke to you. “Okay, Folio, listen. It’s definitely not my first time smoking weed. There are a lot of things about me you don’t know. And I am not a lightweight.” You crossed your arms, holding his gaze with a defiant glare. “So, I’ll ask again: do you have another joint or not?”

He blinked, clearly taken aback by your response. For a moment, he didn’t say anything, just studied you with a look you couldn’t quite decipher. Finally, he reached into the pocket of his hoodie and pulled out another pre-rolled joint.

“Uh… yeah, sure,” he said, handing it to you.

You took it with a smirk, your first one of the night. “Thanks.”

“Anytime,” he muttered, leaning back again. He pulled out his own joint, lighting it with practiced ease before taking a slow drag.

You lit yours as well, the familiar scent filling the air as you inhaled deeply. For a while, neither of you spoke. The smoke curled lazily around you both, creating a strange sort of intimacy in the otherwise empty lounge.

Folio broke the silence first. “You don’t seem like the type,” he said, his tone casual but curious.

You exhaled a puff of smoke, raising an eyebrow. “The type to what?”

“Smoke,” he said simply, gesturing toward the joint in your hand. “Or… I don’t know. Just let loose like this.”

You scoffed, shaking your head. “See, that’s the problem with you, Folio. You think you’ve got me all figured out, but you don’t know anything about me.”

“Oh, really?” he replied, his smirk returning. “Like what?”

“Like…” You paused, taking another drag as you thought. “Like the fact that I’ve been smoking since college. Or that Iused to be in a band before I got into photography.”

Folio’s eyebrows shot up at that. “You were in a band?”

“Yeah,” you said, a small smile tugging at your lips. “Guitar and vocals. We weren’t great, but it was fun.”

“Why’d you quit?” he asked, his tone a little softer now.

You shrugged, looking down at your joint. “Didn’t love it enough to make it my whole life, I guess. Photography felt… right. Like it was what I was supposed to do.”

He nodded, his expression thoughtful. “Makes sense.”

You glanced at him, surprised by the lack of sarcasm in his voice. For once, he seemed genuinely interested in what you had to say.

A comfortable silence settled between you, the earlier tension starting to fade. And then, emboldened by the alcohol and weed coursing through your system, you found yourself asking the question that had been nagging at you for months.

“Why do you hate me so much, Folio?”

The words hung in the air, heavy and unspoken for far too long.

Folio froze, his joint halfway to his lips. For the first time that night, he looked completely caught off guard.

“I don’t—” he began, but you cut him off immediately.

“Don’t start with that bullshit,” you snapped, your voice firmer than you expected.

“Let me speak, please,” he said quickly, raising a hand as if to calm you down. There was a note of seriousness in his tone that caught you off guard. “I don’t hate you, Y/N. You have to believe me.”

You blinked, your irritation giving way to confusion. “Then why are you always so mean to me? Why do you act like you can’t stand to be in the same room as me?”

Folio sighed, dragging a hand down his face before leaning forward, his elbows resting on his knees. The usual smugness in his expression was completely gone, replaced by something far more vulnerable.

“Do you remember that house party seven years ago? The one where your brother introduced us?” he asked, his voice quieter now.

You nodded slowly, your mind flashing back to the memory. “Yeah… I remember.”

“Well,” he said, hesitating for a moment before continuing, “Nicholas caught me staring at you.”

You raised an eyebrow, unsure where this was going. “Okay…?”

“I was mesmerized by you, Y/N,” Folio admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “I thought you were the most beautiful person I’d ever seen. But Nicholas pulled me aside and made it very clear that you were strictly off-limits.”

Your mouth parted slightly, the pieces beginning to fall into place.

“So, what? You just decided to hate me because my brother told you to back off?” you asked, your tone more incredulous than angry.

“No,” Folio said, shaking his head. “I didn’t decide to hate you. I tried to. I thought if I could convince myself you were annoying, or difficult, or—” He paused, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “If I could convince myself you were someone I didn’t want to be around, then maybe I could get those feelings out of my head.”

He leaned back, exhaling deeply as he met your gaze. “It didn’t work. But it made things easier… or at least it felt like it did at the time.”

You stared at him, your mind reeling from his confession. “So, this whole time… all the bickering, the snarky comments… that was just you trying to push me away?”

Folio nodded, his expression uncharacteristically serious. “Pretty much.” He ran a hand through his hair, avoiding your eyes. “The truth is, I’ve never hated you, Y/N. I never could.”

The weight of his words settled over you, and for a moment, you were completely speechless. You had spent so much time believing that he genuinely couldn’t stand you, and now… this.

Folio shifted nervously under your silence, his earlier confidence clearly shaken. “Look, I know I’ve been a complete asshole to you, and you probably don’t want to hear any of this, but—”

Before he could finish, you leaned forward, your heart pounding in your chest, and pressed your lips to his.

The kiss was sudden, instinctive, and completely out of character for you. But as soon as it happened, it felt right—like something you’d been holding back for far too long.

For a moment, Folio didn’t move, clearly caught off guard. But then, almost hesitantly, he kissed you back.

Folio’s hands found your waist as he quickly pulled you onto his lap, not breaking the kiss. The motion made you gasp against his lips, but he didn’t let up, deepening the kiss instead. His grip was firm, almost like he was afraid you’d slip away, and the heat between your bodies was impossible to ignore.

After a few moments, Folio pulled back just enough to rest his forehead against yours, both of you catching your breath. His eyes searched yours, dark and filled with something you couldn’t quite place, but it made your stomach twist in anticipation.

"I’m sick of pretending, Y/N," he murmured, his voice raw and quiet, as if it hurt to say it out loud.

Your chest tightened at his words, a mix of emotions flooding you. But instead of overthinking it, you let your instincts take over. "Then don’t," you whispered, your voice steady despite the butterflies wreaking havoc inside you.

That was all the encouragement he needed. Folio leaned in again, capturing your lips in another heated kiss. This one was more desperate, more certain, and you found yourself melting into him.

His hands roamed your back, sliding under your sweatshirt, and his fingers brushed your bare skin, sending shivers down your spine. Your hips moved of their own accord, rocking slightly against him. The friction was intoxicating, and you couldn’t help the soft moan that escaped your lips when you felt how hard he already was beneath you.

"Fuck, Y/N," Folio groaned against your mouth, his hands tightening on your waist as you kept moving. His lips trailed down to your jaw, then your neck, where he bit down gently, eliciting another gasp from you.

You couldn’t stop yourself from grinding against him, the heat between your legs growing unbearable. "I need you, Nicky," you breathed, your voice barely above a whisper but loud enough for him to hear.

He pulled back, his eyes locking onto yours, dark and filled with desire. "Fuck," he rasped, his lips curling into a smirk. "I thought you’d never say it."

Your cheeks flushed, but you smirked right back, emboldened by his reaction. Without breaking eye contact, you grabbed the hem of your sweatshirt and pulled it over your head in one swift motion, leaving your upper body bare to him.

Folio’s eyes widened for a moment before they darkened further, his gaze drinking you in. "No bra?" he said, his tone teasing but laced with lust. "Naughty girl."

You shrugged, your smirk not faltering. "Remember, I was dragged out of bed."

His grin widened as he leaned forward, his lips brushing over your collarbone. "Lucky me," he murmured before his hands found your waist again, pulling you flush against him.

Not wanting to be the only one undressed, you tugged at the hem of his hoodie. "Your turn," you whispered, your fingers curling under the fabric.

He chuckled softly but obliged, pulling the hoodie off and tossing it aside. Your breath hitched as you took him in, his toned chest and arms on full display.

"Like what you see?" he teased, his grin cocky as he caught you staring.

"Maybe," you replied, feigning indifference, though the heat in your gaze betrayed you.

"Uh-huh, sure," he teased back, pulling you closer until your bare chest pressed against his.

Your lips met again, the kiss growing more intense, and you couldn’t stop your hands from exploring his chest, your fingers tracing the lines of his muscles. His hands mirrored yours, roaming your back and hips, pulling you even closer as the tension built between you.

After a few minutes, your hands wandered lower, trailing down his sides to the waistband of his sweatpants. You hesitated for only a moment before undoing the drawstring and slipping your hand inside.

The low groan Folio let out when your hand brushed against him sent a thrill through you, and you couldn’t help but smirk against his lips.

"Fuck, Y/N," he breathed, his head tilting back slightly as you started palming him through his sweatpants. His grip on your waist tightened, and his breathing grew heavier, matching yours.

Folio groaned, his head tilting back as your hand worked him. "Okay, okay, you need to stop," he panted, grabbing your wrist gently but firmly to still your movements. "Or else I’m gonna bust already," he added with a breathless laugh, his cheeks flushed.

You smirked, leaning in to press a teasing kiss to his jaw. "Isn’t that the point?" you quipped, your tone light but sultry.

He gave you a pointed look, his lips quirking into a crooked smile. "Yeah, well, I’d rather make you feel good first. Thatokay with you?"

The low rasp in his voice sent shivers down your spine, and you nodded quickly. "Yes, please," you whispered, your voice soft but laced with need.

"Good girl," he murmured, his smile turning into a smug smirk as he gently nudged you backward.

You found yourself lying back on the narrow couch in the tour bus, the cool leather a sharp contrast to the heat building between your bodies. Folio knelt between your legs, his eyes never leaving yours as he hooked his fingers into the waistband of your sweatpants and panties. With one smooth motion, he tugged them down and discarded them somewhere on the floor.

Everything about his movements was quick and deliberate, leaving you a little breathless. He placed his hands on your thighs, parting your legs with a firm yet gentle motion. The hunger in his gaze made you swallow hard, heat flooding your cheeks.

"You okay?" he asked, his voice softening. The concern in his tone was genuine, cutting through the tension just enough to make your chest tighten in a different way.

"Yeah," you said, nodding.

He raised an eyebrow, his hands giving your thighs a reassuring squeeze. "I need to hear you say it, baby," he urged gently.

Your lips parted as you took a steadying breath. "Yes, Nicky. I’m sure," you replied, your voice steady this time.

His lips quirked into a soft smile at your words. "That’s my girl," he murmured, and before you could respond, he dipped his head, his lips brushing your inner thigh before moving to exactly where you needed him most.

The first touch of his tongue drew a sharp gasp from you, your hips jerking slightly in surprise. "Fuck," you breathed, your hands instinctively tangling in his hair.

Folio chuckled against you, the vibrations making you whimper. "God, you’re so wet for me," he groaned, his voice muffled but filled with awe.

"Mhm," you managed, your fingers tightening in his hair. "Just for you."

"Good," he murmured before diving back in, his mouth working against you with a fervor that left you dizzy.

Every flick of his tongue and every graze of his lips had you unraveling faster than you thought possible. Your moans filled the small space, mingling with his groans as he seemed entirely consumed by the task of driving you wild.

Your legs trembled as the pressure built to an almost unbearable peak, and with one final flick of his tongue, you came undone with a cry, your back arching off the couch.

Folio didn’t stop right away, easing you through your high until you were a quivering, breathless mess beneath him. He pulled back, his lips glistening, and gave you a cocky grin.

"That was fast," he teased, leaning back on his heels and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

You let out a breathless laugh, covering your face with one hand as you tried to catch your breath. "I know. I surprised myself," you admitted, still trembling slightly.

His grin widened, and he reached out to tug your hand away from your face, pinning it gently against the couch. "Don’t hide from me," he said softly, his eyes searching yours.

You smiled up at him, your chest still heaving. "Come here, drummer boy," you said, your tone teasing but full of want. "And fuck me already."

His cheeks flushed, the pink spreading across his nose, but he smirked anyway. "You don’t have to tell me twice," he said, his voice dropping an octave.

He stood up, his movements fluid as he quickly discarded his pants and boxers, letting them fall to the floor. You couldn’t help but stare, your lips parting slightly at the sight of him.

"Like what you see?" he teased, catching your expression as he climbed back onto the couch, hovering over you.

"Maybe," you replied, your voice soft but teasing.

He chuckled, leaning down to kiss you deeply. His lips moved against yours with a mix of urgency and tenderness, and you melted into him, your hands roaming the expanse of his bare back.

Folio hovered over you, his body pressing against yours as he lined himself up at your entrance. His eyes searched yours one last time, his voice low and rough. "You ready, baby?"

You nodded, wrapping your arms around his neck. "I’ve never been more ready," you whispered.

With a slow, steady motion, he pushed himself into you, drawing a sharp gasp from your lips. Your nails dug into his shoulders as the stretch took you by surprise, and you couldn’t stop the soft whimper that escaped.

"God, Folio," you breathed, your voice trembling. "You’re so big."

He froze for a moment, his forehead pressing against yours. "You need a minute, baby?" he asked, his voice soft and full of concern.

You shook your head quickly, biting your lip. "No, keep going," you murmured, your fingers tightening on his shoulders. "I need you."

His gaze darkened at your words, and he leaned down to kiss you deeply as he began to move, starting with slow, deliberate thrusts. The sensation was overwhelming, every inch of him filling you in a way that left you breathless.

"You feel so good," he groaned, his voice strained. "So tight, baby. Fuck."

You whimpered in response, your legs wrapping around his waist to pull him even closer. "Don’t stop," you gasped, your voice breaking. "Right there, Nicky. Yes, yes, right there."

His pace began to pick up, his movements growing more confident as your moans spurred him on. "Good girl," he murmured against your ear, his voice dripping with praise. "Taking me so well. So wet for me."

Your body responded to every word, every thrust, and soon you were clawing at his back, your moans growing louder with each passing second. "Faster," you begged, your voice high and desperate. "Please, Nicky, faster."

"Anything for you," he groaned, gripping your hips as he began to move with an almost punishing pace. The sound of skin against skin filled the small space, mingling with the symphony of your moans and his deep, guttural groans.

"Fuck, baby," he rasped, his lips brushing against your neck as he buried himself deeper. "You feel so fucking good."

"Harder," you moaned, your head tilting back as your body arched into his. "Please, Nicky, fuck me harder."

He didn’t hesitate, his hips snapping against yours with a force that sent waves of pleasure coursing through you. "God, you’re perfect," he muttered, his breath hot against your skin. "So fucking perfect."

You felt the tension building again, your body teetering on the edge. "I’m close," you gasped, your nails raking down his back. "Don’t stop, don’t stop."

"I’ve got you, baby," he groaned, his voice rough as he kept his relentless pace.

With one final thrust, the coil inside you snapped, and you cried out, your body shaking as your orgasm washed over you. Folio groaned loudly, his movements becoming erratic as he chased his own release.

"Fuck," he rasped, his voice thick with pleasure. With a few more thrusts, he pulled out, spilling himself onto your belly. His head fell to your shoulder as he caught his breath, his body trembling slightly against yours.

You both lay there for a moment, panting and trying to come down from the high. Finally, Folio pushed himself up, his eyes meeting yours with a soft, almost shy smile. "You okay?" he asked, his voice still a little breathless.

"Yeah," you replied, your own smile tugging at your lips. "That was…"

"Incredible?" he finished for you, his grin turning playful as he leaned down to press a quick kiss to your lips.

"Exactly," you agreed, laughing softly as he stood up.

He grabbed a box of tissues from the corner of the bus’s living room and cleaned you up with gentle care, his fingers brushing against your skin.

As he tossed the tissues into a nearby trash can, you smirked up at him. "If you hadn’t pretended to hate me all these years, we could’ve done that seven years ago," you teased, your tone light but tinged with a hint of seriousness.

Folio’s expression softened, and he climbed back onto the couch, pulling you into his arms. "I know," he murmured, his voice quiet. "I’m sorry, baby."

He pressed a soft kiss to your lips, lingering for a moment as if trying to convey everything he couldn’t put into words.

After a moment of catching your breath, you and Folio slowly began to gather yourselves. He handed you your underwear with a small, sheepish grin, and you both slid them back on in a comfortable silence. The air between you had shifted—it was no longer filled with tension, but something warmer, more intimate.

You laid back down on the couch, and Folio immediately joined you, pulling you into his arms. His hand rested on your hip as he held you close, the rise and fall of his chest soothing as you nestled against him.

For a while, neither of you spoke. The quiet hum of the tour bus and the faint sounds from outside filled the space. It wasn’t awkward, though—it was comfortable, peaceful even.

Finally, you broke the silence, your voice soft and a little uncertain. "What does this make us, Nick?"

He stilled for a moment, and you could feel the way his chest rose and fell under your cheek as he took a deep breath. "I don’t know," he admitted, his voice gentle but firm. "But I do know one thing—I’m done pretending, baby. I’m done acting like I don’t want this. Like I don’t want you."

Your heart fluttered at his words, but there was still a sliver of hesitation in your chest. You tilted your head to look up at him, searching his eyes for any sign of doubt. "How does boyfriend and girlfriend sound?" you asked quietly, your voice barely above a whisper.

For a split second, your heart raced, fear creeping in as you braced yourself for his answer. But then, Folio’s lips curled into that signature smirk of his, and the look in his eyes softened in a way that made your chest ache.

"I’d love that, baby," he said simply, his voice steady and sincere.

A wave of relief washed over you, and a smile spread across your lips as your fingers toyed with the hem of his shirt. "Good," you murmured, your voice lighter now, playful even.

Folio leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to your lips—gentle and unhurried, like he was savoring the moment. When he pulled back, his hand reached for a nearby blanket draped over the back of the couch. He tugged it over both of you, tucking it around your shoulders before pulling you even closer.

"Let’s cuddle a bit before we have to get back to our bunks," he murmured, his lips brushing against your temple as he spoke. "The guys don’t need to find out about this just yet. And your brother…" He chuckled softly, shaking his head. "Your brother would kill us both."

You laughed quietly, nuzzling closer to him. "Agreed," you said, your voice warm with amusement.

The two of you fell into a comfortable silence again, his fingers absentmindedly tracing patterns on your back as you basked in the warmth of each other’s presence.

But what neither of you considered was how the haze of the moment—combined with the earlier hit of weed and the lingering exhaustion—would catch up to you. Slowly but surely, your eyelids grew heavy, and you felt yourself slipping into the pull of sleep.

Folio’s breathing evened out beside you, his arms still securely wrapped around your frame as he dozed off. Neither of you noticed the scattered clothes on the floor or the fact that the blanket barely covered your entwined bodies.

And as the tour bus rumbled quietly down the road, you both drifted off, blissfully unaware of the consequences waiting for you when the boys inevitably discovered the aftermath of your night together.

The next morning, you were startled awake by a loud, familiar voice cutting through the quiet hum of the bus. Still tangled in Folio’s arms, you blinked groggily, your brain struggling to catch up as the realization hit—you’d fallen asleep in the lounge area.

Noah’s voice, brimming with disbelief and amusement, echoed through the small space. "I fucking told you!" he practically shouted, the smirk on his face audible in his tone.

You and Folio both jolted upright, your hearts racing. Folio instinctively pulled the blanket tighter around you as you both turned to see Noah standing a few feet away, his grin widening as he took in the scene before him.

Before either of you could say a word, Noah’s commotion woke another person—the one person you’d hoped wouldn’t notice.

Your brother, Ruffilo, groaned loudly as he climbed out of his bunk, rubbing his eyes and looking thoroughlyunimpressed. "What the hell are you yelling about this early, Noah?" he grumbled, his voice heavy with sleep.

Time seemed to slow as Ruffilo’s footsteps grew louder, each one bringing him closer to the back lounge. Your breath caught in your throat, and you glanced at Folio, whose wide eyes mirrored your own. Even Noah looked momentarily alarmed, his grin faltering as the gravity of the situation hit him.

When Ruffilo finally stepped into the lounge, his gaze landed on you and Folio still tangled together on the couch, the blanket doing little to hide the obvious intimacy of your positioning. His eyes narrowed dangerously, and his jaw clenched as realization dawned.

"Folio," Ruffilo said slowly, his voice low and simmering with anger. "Don’t tell me you fucked my sister last night."

Folio froze, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. Finally, he managed a weak, "Uh… I didn’t fuck your sister last night?" His voice wavered with uncertainty, and you resisted the urge to groan at his terrible attempt at lying.

Ruffilo’s gaze snapped to you, and then back to Folio, his face reddening with fury. "I’m going to fucking kill you," he growled, his voice rising with each word. "Both of you!"

Taglist: @courta13

[mahowaga]

THE (NOT SO) SUBTLE ART OF BEING A NUISANCE | K.C. — PART TWO

SUMMARY: you're a sound tech. he's a dj. you hate him. he hates you. (allegedly.) but that's okay, because who needs love when you can be a complete and utter nuisance and make his life hell?

PAIRING: dj!choso x sound engineer!fem!reader CONTAINS: rivals (mild annoyances) to lovers, romance, fluff, crack, profanity TEASER: here NOW PLAYING: casablanca by fly by midnight WC: 7.0k WARNINGS: they swear a lot, choso is still insufferable, but it's endearing, mc is still the personification of a troublemaker

setlist | part one

— Tongue-tied? Here’s a USB and a dream. Sprinkle some charm in there, too

Choso has been unbearable ever since that night.

Ever since he’s played that godforsaken track. Ever since you’d stood there like a complete idiot, too flustered to do anything except pretend you weren’t as affected as you actually were.

Ever since you’d lost, and he’d won, and he knew it.

And now?

He is smug. So insufferably smug.

The worst part of it all? He isn’t even saying anything. He doesn’t need to.

He’ll just show up to the club, shoot you a lazy glance from across the room, and you already know.

You can feel it.

Like an unspoken victory speech, his eyes linger on you for just a second too long, before he goes back to pretending you don’t exist.

It’s driving you insane.

And tonight? Tonight is no different. In fact, it’s probably even worse than usual.

You arrive to your shift and find another sticky note (purple with black ink) slapped onto your soundboard.

It’s mocking you, you just know it.

Try not to fall in love with my set tonight, yeah? I know it’ll be hard. –Your one and only DJ Dumbass

Ugh. You roll your eyes so hard you swear you see your past lives all lined up in the afterlife, judging you.

You crumple the note in your fist, seriously contemplating arson.

Then, as if summoned by the sheer force of your hatred, Choso appears, walking into the club like he owns it, like he knows (he does) that everyone loves him (except for you) and that he’s the people’s favorite DJ.

His hood is up, headphones slung around his neck, hair pulled up into a half-up, half-down situation (that looks hotter than you would ever admit).

Instead of looking at you, like he always does, he simply goes to the CDJ and starts prepping for his set, adjusting knobs and flicking through the tracklist.

He’s ignoring you. (Why? You have no idea. You also have no idea why it bothers you.)

You have two choices:

Let him win.

Be as insufferable as humanly possible.

Guess which one is the right choice?

Yeah. The latter.

“So,” you drawl, arms crossed, leaning against the wall. “Should I start writing my Yelp review now, or after you completely ruin the club’s reputation?”

Choso doesn’t even look up. (His focus is made of steel. Nothing shakes this man.) “Bold of you to assume they care about your opinion.”

You narrow your eyes and scoff. “Bold of you to assume I won’t sabotage the entire sound system out of spite.”

Ah, that gets his attention. He looks up.

And smirks.

Shit.

“Go ahead.” He shrugs, too relaxed, too confident. It pisses you off more than you can describe. You literally threatened to carry out a sonic hate crime and this is his response? “I can work with static.”

You make a mental note to replace all of his tracks with the sound of dial-up internet loading.

“You’re annoying,” you mutter, watching him set up.

“Mm. You like me that way.”

You nearly trip over thin air. (Embarrassing. All this for some idiot man.)

He says it so casually, like it’s a fact, like it’s the weather, like it’s just something everyone already knows. Everyone, except, of course, you.

Your face feels hot. Or is that just the temperature in the club right now?

“I-” you sputter, grasping for literally any words that aren’t oh my god oh my god OH MY GOD. But Choso isn’t listening, because when has he ever listened?

No. Instead, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a USB drive.

He hands it to you.

(You have to give it to him. He’s the embodiment of ‘never let ‘em know your next move’.)

You stare at it like he’s just handed you a grenade. Shit, it might as well be one.

“What is this?” you ask, suspicious.

Choso raises an unimpressed brow. “A USB. Are you okay?”

You resist the urge to throw it at his forehead. “I mean what’s on it, you fucking idiot.”

He exhales, like he’s already exhausted by you and your million questions. “Just listen to it.”

“Why?”

“Because I said so.”

“Oh, wow, so convincing.”

Choso clicks his tongue, irritated, turning back towards the CDJ. “Or don’t. Whatever.”

(Any normal person would see that he’s annoyed and back off. But you? You aren’t normal. Far from it, in fact.)

You squint at him.

Something’s off.

Not in an obvious way. Not in a hey, I secretly committed a felony way (which you hope he hasn’t, for the record).

But in a he is being too nonchalant way.

Like he’s trying too hard to seem like he doesn’t care.

Which means that whatever’s on this USB here in the palm of your hands definitely matters.

…Which means, and get this, you have more leverage than you initially thought.

You perk up instantly. (You love how your brain works sometimes.)

“Ohh,” you grin. “Ohh, this is important, isn’t it?”

Choso’s jaw clenches. Got him.

Victory.

He ignores you and grabs his headphones from around his neck.

So, naturally, you make it worse. It’s your time to shine.

“Oh, I see,” you say dramatically, holding the USB up to the LED light. “It’s some tragic sadboi lo-fi mix, isn’t it? You’re about to pour your deepest, darkest feelings into my ears. Probably some emotional slow beats - ooh, maybe even a voice memo of you journaling your thoughts-”

Choso turns to you sharply with a flat, unimpressed stare.

“Do you ever shut up?”

“Not when I know something’s embarrassing for you, no.”

He exhales through his nose. “You’re the worst.”

“And yet,” you smirk, spreading your arms, “here you are. Giving little old me a gift. Careful now, people might think you like me or something.”

He holds your gaze like a balloon he’s not ready to let go of.

For a second too long. A second that tells you something you’re not ready to fully accept.

Then he says, “I have a set to start. Go back to the booth, pretty girl.”

He turns back to the CDJ, putting the headphones over his ears.

You feel like you just got shot. He didn’t answer your question and he called you pretty girl.

Your stomach does a somersault. (You hate to admit it, but that nickname of his really has a terrible effect on you.)

Oh.

Oh no.

You realize something.

If he didn’t deny what you just said…

That means…

Ah, shit. You’re so screwed.

Kamo Choso never follows the setlist. Not once. Not ever.

It’s like a fundamental, unspoken law of the universe - death, taxes, and Choso ignoring the lineup he made like the absolute pain in the ass he is.

(Seriously, you don’t know why you still bother practicing through his lineup when you know he’s going to switch it up.)

And so because of this unequivocal truth, you sit back in the sound booth, your gear all plugged in and running, glancing at the track progression for the night, bracing for impact.

But-

Wait a second.

You lean forward in your chair, pressing your headset harder against your ears as if it’ll help you hear what he’s playing in even better resolution (not possible), and you realize with a feeling that resembles being dragged down into the ocean with weights tied to your feet that he’s actually following the setlist.

For the first time in his entire miserable career (lie), he’s playing everything in order.

You barely have to adjust anything, having practiced earlier. No surprises. No remixes pulled from the void. No sudden jumps in tempo that make you want to hurl yourself into a speaker and disintegrate into sound waves. No smug little glances shot in your direction, daring you to keep up.

It’s not one of his signature rogue, self-indulgent remixing disasters that force you to scramble mid-set.

You should be relieved. That’s a normal thing to feel.

Instead, you are suspicious as hell.

Why, you ask? Because this now means two things:

He is up to something.

You are now basically free of distractions - there’s nothing gatekeeping your attention from the USB sitting in your palm.

You twirl it between your fingers, tapping it against your knee, hesitating.

It shouldn’t, but it feels oddly heavy. Like there’s something life-changing stored inside of it.

Just listen to it, he said.

His voice echoes in your head, lazy and casual, but there’d been something else beneath it. Something uncertain. Something almost, dare you say, nervous.

Choso. Kamo Choso. Nervous.

It doesn’t make sense. Sure, the guy is cocky, full of himself, thinks he is some kind of Messiah of groove, and occasionally gets tired of your antics, but he doesn’t get nervous.

But you think about the way he’d looked at you before you walked away.

You exhale sharply, tapping it against your palm.

Fine. Whatever. It’s just some insipid beats in this USB, anyway. He probably mixed another one of your laughs into it and is afraid you’ll actually kill him this time. That’s all. (Or this could be some kind of elaborate joke, seeing how he’s actually such a master of acting anxious and secretive before pulling a complete 180 on you.)

At the very least, you’re hoping Choso is smart enough to know not waste your time.

With a click, you plug the USB into your laptop.

A folder appears instantly, neat and simple.

[CH MIX – FOR YOU.]

Your stomach does something weird (huh, it’s almost like your stomach flips).

You blame it on the club lighting. You’re reading too much into this. You need to relax.

This is, after all, probably just another one of his dumb power moves, just a new way to mess with you.

That’s all.

Still.

Your fingers hover over the touchpad for a moment too long before you finally click.

Inside, a playlist.

You swallow hard, schooling your emotions, a whirlwind wreaking havoc inside of you, scrolling through the tracklist.

They’re all original mixes.

Okay. Not unusual. Choso makes new sets and mixes and tracks all the time.

But your breath hitches when you see the titles.

All of them.

And your brain short-circuits (you know, the way it does when you think about him).

These aren’t normal track names. They’re inside jokes. Petty arguments. Moments. The kind only the two of you would get.

Stop Making the Speakers Weep

EQ Crimes & Misdemeanors

This One’s for My Favorite Pain in the Ass

DJ Dumbass

Turn the Bass Down

My Pretty Girl

Your heart is pounding in your chest. This can’t be happening. This cannot be happening to you right now. This has to be a joke.

You click play before you can psych yourself out and have a mental breakdown.

The music pours into your headset, and immediately, you recognize it. His style.

He made these. These aren’t just remixes he was playing around with. He made these from scratch, just like the track from the other night - the one with your laugh.

Heavy bass (without a doubt). Deep, rich synths. A smooth, low hum that wraps around you like velvet. But layered into it-

Your voice.

Not just your laugh this time. Not the one he’d sampled before (how? You’re still unsure).

More.

Clips of you talking. Snippets from actual conversations. Your grumbles when fixing the soundboard to patch his messes. Your complaints about his terrible timing. A breath. A muttered curse. A quiet hum you hadn’t even realized you’d made when adjusting the settings one night. The flat, deadpan oh my god from the time he’d looped an airhorn over a bass drop just to piss you off (an act of love, he’d teased).

“That’s too heavy on the bass, dumbass.” “You’re impossible.” “Oh my god, did you actually follow instructions? Mark the calendar.”

All of it, woven seamlessly into the music.

Your stomach drops out from under you. You cover your mouth with your hand.

Because this isn’t just some mix. Some playlist. Some random tracks.

This is a timeline. A story - it’s you and him. The fights, the pranks, the slow, stupid build-up of whatever the hell has been happening between the two of you for months.

You don’t know what to do. The playlist keeps going, unaware of your jumbled feelings, a seamless progression from one track into the next, each carrying little pieces of you buried inside it. A song built from the background noise of you. As if he’s been collecting your existence this whole time. As if you’ve already been a part of his music before either of you had noticed.

Your face is burning. Oh, Choso, you big, dumb idiot of a disc jockey.

And then it transitions into the last track: My Pretty Girl.

The beat dies out. No layering. No filters.

There’s a little static. A pause.

Then, Choso’s voice, snaking its way through your headset and into your ears.

“...Okay, so, this is stupid. I am aware.”

Your lips press into a thin line. You can’t tell what sort of direction this is going to go in. You’re hoping it’s not veering towards the He’s going to say some really romantic shit to mess with me and then hit me with a ‘Just kidding!’ at the end type of finale. Then you’d really have to pull your slacks up and hit him with a roundhouse kick. Preferably until he can no longer qualify to be a DJ.

“...You’re probably making some obnoxious face right now, huh?”

He sounds exasperated. (And you absolutely are making an obnoxious face right now. He’s right on the money.)

“God. I can’t believe I’m doing this.”

There’s a deep breath, like he’s already regretting even doing this. You’re not sure if you should feel good about that or not.

“You’re annoying. So damn annoying. You get on my nerves all the time. Did you know that? Oh, wait, it’s you. For all I know, you fucking do it on purpose.”

Your breath catches. Not because of what he said, well, yeah, that, but also the tone - his voice is soft, resigned, but there’s not a single trace of anger laced in his words. It’s almost… affectionate.

“You make my job hell. You never shut up. And you’re-”

A pause. A sharp inhale. Like he’s fighting himself.

“And you’re- shit, you’re my favorite part of every night.”

Your brain goes blank. You cover your face with your hands, mortified on his behalf. (That’s what you tell yourself, anyway.)

“You drive me insane. Like. Actually insane.”

His voice is slightly muffled, like he’s dragging a hand down his face.

“Look, I don’t know when it happened, okay? Probably when you decided to be a chaos gremlin on night one. But suddenly, it was just… you. Every Friday night. Every set. Every stupid note you left on the console. Every time I looked up and saw you there, working your magic.”

A pause.

“I started, I don’t know, looking forward to it all. To seeing you.”

You bite your lip, because now you’re really afraid he’s going to say it’s all a joke.

“And I really, really hate that.”

Shit, shit, shit-

“Listen, I like you, okay? So much that it’s been eating at me from the inside, consuming my every thought. I can’t think when it’s you.”

You forget how to breathe.

His voice is quieter now.

“I don’t expect you to say anything. You don’t have to. Just- fuck. Throw something at me if you don’t feel the same way. Just… not my equipment. Please.”

You yank the headset off and toss it onto your laptop. Your hands are shaking. Your heart is slamming against your ribs. Your brain is completely empty. Your face is burning.

You risk a glance up through the glass and see Choso, engulfed by the music, bouncing along as he mixes through the tracks. You’re lucky he doesn’t look up and see you, because then he’d see that you’re currently malfunctioning beyond repair.

You stare at the laptop screen, at the track still playing, almost done now, at the waveform of his voice still moving.

This is insane. This is not happening. You’re waiting for the punchline, but you don’t get one. 

He’s serious. (You’re royally screwed.)

Choso - Kamo Choso - had just-

He’d just-

You’re going to pass out.

— Confronting your demons–oh wait, that’s just Choso

His set ends.

You know it ends because the music cuts and the crowd erupts into cheers, a sweaty, adrenaline-fueled mass hyped off the last bass drop Choso had thrown their way. The club is buzzing, neon lights flickering as people push toward the bar or the dance floor, unwilling to let the energy fade so soon.

But you’re not paying attention to any of that.

You’re still sitting there, in your chair, in your booth, reeling.

Because Choso - that absolute menace of a DJ, your mortal enemy, your favorite person to argue with (what?) - just confessed to you over a mix.

And you?

You have no idea what to do with yourself. The confession is still rattling around in your brain, ricocheting off every corner like a pinball on steroids.

Your fingers drum erratically on the edge of the console as you overthink yourself into oblivion.

Okay. You could pretend you didn’t hear it.

But that would be a dense move.

You could throw something at him like he told you to.

Tempting, but that would imply acknowledging the confession in the first place. Plus, that would mean you didn’t-

“You listened to it, huh?”

You jump, whipping around so fast that you nearly knock your laptop off the booth.

There he is. Choso. The bane of your existence.

He’s standing there, sweaty from the set, hair still half-tied, hoodie missing, probably draped over a chair somewhere. He doesn’t seem to care about it too much. He’s got a towel slung over his shoulder, fingers idly fidgeting with it - his usual post-set routine.

Except he’s looking at you instead of drying himself off.

Waiting.

And you? You’re still in malfunction mode.

Abort mission.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” you blurt out, like the liar you are.

He exhales a short laugh, tipping his head to the side. His dark eyes flick to the abandoned headset on your laptop, the USB still plugged in - like he knows.

Like he can see right through you.

“Oh yeah?” he muses, arms crossing over his chest. “Then why do you look like your brain just blue-screened?”

“I do not look like-”

“You absolutely do.”

Your mouth snaps shut.

Shit. You hate how he can read you like an open book. You also hate how smug he’s being right now.

Choso watches you for a second longer, his usual smirk threatening to creep onto his pretty face, but his gaze alters.

It’s subtle, but you catch it.

A flicker of hesitation. The faintest twitch of his fingers against the towel. The way his weight shifts, like he’s bracing himself.

It hits you then: he’s nervous.

Choso.

Nervous.

You try not to read into it. The last time he looked nervous was when he’d played his track for you, the one with your laugh woven into it, and then he’d switched up into his usual cocky demeanor. An actor great enough to rival you.

But this is somehow different from the other night, too. This is uncertainty.

Damn. This is him waiting to be rejected.

Something in your chest does a weird, complicated flip that would earn you a gold medal at the Olympics. And you don’t like that.

You don’t like any of this.

He beats you to the punch before you self-destruct. “Did you listen to it?”

You tense. His voice is softer now, like he’s testing the waters. Like he isn’t sure if you’re about to throw him into the sun or do something even worse (you would).

You swallow. “...Maybe.”

The corner of his lip ticks up.

“Maybe?”

You scowl. “Yes, maybe. What do you want from me?”

His grin widens, and damn does he look good. “An actual answer?”

No. Not happening. You grab a nearby clipboard, the one with the setlist of his set tonight, and slam it over your face, hiding from him.

Choso laughs. Laughs. Like this is the funniest shit in the world to him.

You want to throw something at him. Preferably a speaker, and you start looking around for one-

He does the worst thing imaginable. He reaches out and tugs the clipboard down.

You resist.

He wins. (Fuck.)

The clipboard is pried away, and now it’s just you and him, standing in the dimly lit sound booth, the glow of the screens casting weird shadows across his face.

His stupid, warm, beautiful face that you suddenly want to punch for making you feel like this.

He studies you, eyes flicking over your expression. It’s like he’s wrestling between being amused and anxious.

You know he sees the way your ears are burning.

“Alright,” he says, slow and deliberate. “You listened to it.”

You clench your jaw. There’s no way out of this now. He’s already seen the proof of your listening session anyways. Still, you double down. “Maybe.”

“Stop saying maybe.”

“Maybe.”

He lets out a deep sigh, dragging a hand down his face. You smirk, triumphant-

Until his hand shoots out again, grabbing your wrist.

You freeze. Completely. Your body locks up.

His fingers curl loosely around it, warm and solid and firm. Not rough, not tight - just there.

“Then tell me,” he says, voice lower now. “What did you think?”

You can’t answer. Because your pulse is too busy freaking out and screaming at your brain, causing a panic all over your body. It’s thumping wildly against his fingers, giving away everything.

Choso feels it. You know he does, because his grip tightens slightly, just like last time. (You hate it when history repeats itself.)

You try to yank your hand back, but his hold is unyielding. You’re trapped, so to speak.

“C’mon,” he murmurs. “If you hated it, just say so.”

You need to regain control, because this right here? This is going to make you lose your marbles.

He’s so close.

Close enough that you can smell the faintest trace of cologne, mixed with sweat, with him.

Close enough that you can see the way his pupils are slightly blown out, like he’s daring you to run.

And suddenly, you’re very, very aware of how much space is between you. (Or rather, how little.)

This is not normal. This is dangerous territory.

You straighten your shoulders, trying to steady yourself. (The last thing you want him to think is that you’re down bad for him or something.) “So, let me get this straight,” you say, keeping your voice even, desperately trying not to look down at where he’s still holding your wrist. “You’re telling me that you - Kamo Choso, pain in my ass, professional menace, guy who deliberately messes with my sound levels every chance he gets - actually have feelings for me?”

He blinks at you, amused. “Still processing, huh?”

“I’m asking an honest question.”

Choso breathes out, rubbing the back of his neck as he lets go of you and takes a step back.

“Yeah,” he mutters. “I do.”

At this point you really shouldn’t be surprised when you feel your heart flutter or your stomach flip, and yet, somehow it still catches you off guard every single time.

“But, like,” you start, because apparently you don’t know when to stop talking, “are you sure? Like, have you considered that maybe you actually just enjoy bullying me?”

That earns you a flat look.

“Did you just try to talk me out of liking you?”

“I’m just making sure you’ve really thought this through.”

“Oh my God.”

He places his hands on his hips and exhales while looking at the ceiling. “You’re making this worse than I thought.”

You scoff. “Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t realize I was the problem here.”

“You absolutely are.”

“That sounds like a you problem, actually.”

“You know what?” He points at you, leveling you with the flattest, driest look imaginable. “Forget it. I take it back. This never happened.”

Your heart lurches so hard it nearly falls out of your chest to create the bloodiest crime scene imaginable.

“You can’t take it back!” you blurt out, offended.

Choso raises a brow. “Why not?”

“Because that’s not how confessions work!”

“Oh-ho, so now you’re an expert?”

“I- that’s not the point!”

Choso just smirks, like he knows exactly what he’s doing.

Oh, that absolute bastard.

You glare at him, refusing to let him see how off-balance he’s thrown you. Refusing to acknowledge how warm your face is, how fast your heart is racing, how much, despite everything, you don’t actually hate this. Or, for that matter, hate him.

Because that would mean admitting something to yourself that you’re not ready to deal with.

So you do what you always do.

You push. (Anything to drag out the inevitable. God, you need some serious help.)

“Anyway,” you say, clearing your throat and waving a dismissive hand, “if you like me so much, why haven’t you done anything about it before now?”

Choso snorts, taking a half-step closer to you. “Because you’re impossible.”

“I happen to be a delight.”

“You are a gremlin who thrives in chaos.”

“I think you’re projecting.”

“Oh, fuck off.” He looks to the ceiling like he’s pleading for divine intervention - maybe to help him with his clearly thinning patience or to simply strike him down and vaporize him. “This is exactly why I was suffering in silence.”

“Suffering in silence?” You grin, because now you have the upper hand. All the cards are back in your favor. “Oh, that’s rich. What part of you sampling my laugh into a mix was ‘suffering in silence’?”

Choso very visibly flinches.

“Oh,” you gasp, dramatic as ever. “Oh my God, you did not just cringe.”

“Shut up.”

“You totally did.”

“I will throw you out of this booth.”

“You’re so embarrassed right now. This is incredible. Ground-breaking.”

Choso groans and looks away, pinching the bridge of his nose. And that’s when you make the devastating mistake of looking at him properly.

Because the thing is, and you’ve known this from the first time you ever laid eyes on him, Choso is attractive.

Like, objectively.

But that’s never been the problem. Not really. You’ve always been able to ignore it. To shove it into a box labeled ‘Irrelevant Information’ and go about your day.

Right now - standing there, arms crossed, sleeves shoved up his forearms, hair half-tied and messy, jaw sharp under the neon glow of the club lights-

It’s very, very hard to ignore.

Panic. Immediate, uncontrollable panic. (All you’ve been doing tonight is panicking, at this point.)

You tear your eyes away before you start thinking things you absolutely should not be thinking.

Choso notices, because when does he ever not notice your microexpressions, and the smirk that creeps across his face tells you you’re doomed.

“...Huh.”

Your stomach plummets. It might as well be bungee jumping. “Don’t.”

“Wait a minute.”

“Choso.”

He leans forward slightly, and your pulse skyrockets.

“Are you-” His grin widens. “Are you flustered?”

“No.” (Your cheeks are red.)

“You totally are.”

“Absolutely not.”

He tilts his head. “...You like me, don’t you?”

“I will end you.”

“Oh my God.” His eyes gleam with triumph. “You like me.”

You don’t dignify that with a response (a page out of his book). No, you do the only thing you can think of doing - you grab the nearest object (a sound level meter) and chuck it at his head.

Choso dodges effortlessly, laughing as it clatters to the floor. “Okay, yeah, that reaction is definitely not normal and not defensive at all.”

“You are so lucky I have not committed a crime against you.”

“You wanna kill me so bad.”

“I do, actually.”

“Then do it.”

Choso is having the time of his life. You, on the other hand, are having a breakdown.

Not externally, of course. Externally, you are composed. (Mostly.) Externally, you are fine. (Debatable.) Externally, you are most definitely not about to make a life-altering decision that will change everything forever. (Complete and utter lie.)

But internally? Internally, your brain is on fire. Your thoughts are running in circles, screaming at each other. Every single alarm bell in your body is going off at full volume - bass at its max, too.

All because Choso is looking at you like that. Like he already knows the answer to the question he asked before. Like he knows you won’t actually kill him. Like he’s already won.

And that? That cannot stand. Absolutely not.

“Wait,” he says, cocking his head like he’s studying you. Like he’s enjoying this way too much. “Was that a no, then?”

“Huh?” You blink up at him, trying to figure out what his latest bullshit is. (You’re also in some type of haze that consists of him and only him, so you really can’t be blamed for any of this.)

Choso gestures vaguely to the sound level meter currently lying on the floor, the one you just hurled at his face in an act of complete emotional instability.

“You threw something at me,” he explains, as if that clarifies anything. “You know - like I said. If you didn’t feel the same way.”

Your entire body glitches.

That- oh, oh my God.

Your stupid, ridiculous, emotionally constipated ass-

You threw something at him.

You threw something at him right after listening to his confession and him asking you if you liked him back.

Ah, shit.

You’ve accidentally rejected him. (Yes, you’re hearing this right.)

Choso stares at you, expectantly. Amused, but expectant. Definitely not like a guy who just got rejected by a girl he just made a whole playlist for. Smug. So fucking smug. (He already knows the answer, that son of a bitch. He’s just making you suffer.)

Meanwhile, your soul is ascending - and not in the good way.

“I-” you start, but then immediately stop, because holy shit.

You can’t even be mad at him for misunderstanding (even if you’re ninety-nine percent sure he’s fucking with you) because it’s completely valid. Because you really did chuck something at him right after he confessed.

And Choso, being Choso, just rolled with it, because of course he did. You hope he’s not crying internally or something.

He’s still waiting for an answer.

Still watching you, head tilted, expression lazy (you really need to learn how to read his emotions - he goes through them like nobody’s business, giving you whiplash), like this is all one big game to him. (It better not be.)

And okay. Fine.

If this is a game-

Then you’re about to win. Because you’re a winner, through and through.

You take a deep breath. Square your shoulders. Set your jaw.

“Oh my God,” you whine, dragging your hands down your face. Here goes your pride. “I can’t believe I like you, cause you’re such an idiot.”

Choso freezes. “You-”

You don’t give him a single second to react.

“You’re so fucking dense,” you continue, pointing at him, jabbing a finger at his chest. “Do you really think I would go out of my way to torment you every night for fun if I didn’t like you?”

He blinks.

“...Yes?”

You gasp, clutching your heart. “That is so rude! What do you take me for? A monster?”

Choso raises a brow. “You did throw something at me.”

“I panicked!”

He snorts.

“I did! You freaked me out, holding my wrist and asking me shit!” You throw your arms up in exasperation. “What was I supposed to do?”

Choso smiles, slow and sharp and entirely too self-satisfied. “Oh, I don’t know,” he says. “Not throw something at me?”

“Shut up.”

“No, really.” He crosses his arms, grin widening. “Anyways, this is good information to have, cause what I’m hearing is, if I want to get you flustered, all I have to do is-”

You slap a hand over his mouth.

“You finish that sentence,” you warn, voice low, “and you’re going to have a very short DJ career, and an even shorter lifespan.”

Choso laughs against your palm, and something in you melts.

You scowl, fully prepared to keep him like this indefinitely, but then-

He licks your hand.

You shriek.

“WHAT THE FUCK?!” You snatch your hand away like it’s been burned. “YOU’RE GROSS. YOU’RE ACTUALLY DISGUSTING.”

Choso, unbothered, just keeps grinning. “Worked, though.”

“I’m going to kill you,” you seethe.

“We just went through this,” he says easily. “You won’t.”

And that’s just it. That’s what does it. That’s what makes you snap.

Because he’s right. For all your bravado, all the things you’ve ever said, all the threats you’ve made - you won’t.

You won’t, because you like him.

Because you have always liked him.

Because he makes every shift more bearable, more eventful, every long night worth it, every moment filled with music and laughter and ridiculous banter.

Because you like the way he leans against the table during his sets, the way he always takes a second to find you in your booth, the way he pretends he’s not paying attention when he absolutely is.

Because he’s here, right now, looking at you like you’ve hung the moon and simultaneously managed to blow it up, and you just can’t take it anymore.

So you grab his shirt, yank him down to your level-

And kiss him.

Choso makes a sound against your lips - not of surprise, but like he’s been waiting for this, like he knew it was inevitable (show-off).

His fingers dig into your waist immediately, like he’s anchoring himself, like if he doesn’t hold onto you, you’ll disappear. And maybe that’s fair, because you feel like you might actually disintegrate, combust or cease to exist. Or all of them, at the same time.

It’s stupid how good he is at this.

How right it feels.

Like he was meant to kiss you, like you were meant to pull him closer, like your banter, your bickering, the months of pushing and pulling were always, always going to lead to this moment here.

Choso kisses like he does everything else - with intention, with control, with the perfect mix of smugness and ease that makes you want to either kiss him harder or strangle him.

(You choose the former, but the latter is still on the table, never fear.)

He is meticulous.

His lips part slightly, and your breath catches when his tongue brushes against yours - just enough to make your knees buckle. He grins into the kiss at the way you clutch the fabric of his shirt, a noise of satisfaction low in his throat like he’s won something.

(You’ll yell at him for that later. You’re kind of busy right now.)

But then, just when you start to lose yourself in it, just when you really start to forget everything else-

You feel movement near the soundboard.

Without hesitation, you break the kiss and smack his hand away.

Choso groans, exasperated. “Oh, come on.”

“You were gonna mess with my settings, weren’t you?”

He rubs the back of his hand, utterly repentant. “Maybe.”

“Maybe?!”

He grins, lazy, smug, love-drunk. “I was testing a theory.”

“Asshole. What theory?”

He leans in, voice dropping. “I wanted to see how distracted you were.”

You glare. “I will end you.”

“Hm. You just kissed me, pretty girl. That’d be a little contradictory.”

“Oh, trust me.” You poke a finger into his chest. “I can multitask.”

Choso chuckles, shaking his head like you’re the most ridiculous thing he’s ever seen. “You are actually impossible.”

“Yeah, and you’re insufferable. And a dumbass.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He tugs you closer, voice softer now. Smaller. Intimate. “But you seem to like me anyway, huh?”

And ugh.

Ugh.

Because, yet again, he’s right.

You do.

More than you should, maybe. More than you ever planned to.

So, obviously, instead of answering, instead of confirming what he already knows, you grab the front of his shirt again and press your lips to his.

Harder this time. (Almost like a punishment.)

Choso laughs against your lips, triumphant.

— Falling in love, one ridiculous mix at a time

Choso should’ve known the whole fucking club was in on it.

Scratch that. He did know. He just hadn’t realized the sheer extent of it.

Because, sure, he’d caught on to the way people had been watching - the not-so-subtle glances exchanges whenever he and you were in the same space, the whispered conversations cut short when he walked into a room, the smug little smirks far too many people wore whenever you and he bickered over the sound settings.

Hell, even Nanami had made a passing comment once, in the world’s most casual voice, about how he was “looking forward to an upcoming development”. At the time, Choso had assumed it was just Nanami being cryptic for no reason, because he did that sometimes. But now? Now, Choso realizes that that was code for I put money on you two idiots getting together.

But this? This goes so much deeper.

“You owe me, hardass.”

Choso doesn’t even flinch when Toji slaps a heavy hand onto his shoulder, grinning like he’s never won anything better in his life. Like he’s just secured generational wealth. The man is positively smug, downright gleeful, radiating satisfaction as he stands behind the bar, flipping a bottle in one hand.

“You bet on us?” Choso asks flatly, like he doesn’t already know the answer (hint: you already spilled the beans).

Toji barks out a laugh. “Bet on you? Nah. I bet against you. Thought you’d choke before you ever said anything.”

Choso rolls his eyes. “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

“Hey, it wasn’t personal,” Toji shrugs. “I just figured you were a stubborn bastard. No offense.”

Choso side-eyes him. “Right.”

“But Nanami,” Toji continues, nudging Choso with his elbow, “he had faith in you. Said you’d crack sooner rather than later.”

That catches Choso off guard. “Fuck off. You’re telling me Nanami bet on me, too?”

“Sure did,” Toji confirms. “Said he’s been watching your downfall for months.”

Downfall. Fantastic.

Choso rubs his temple, equal parts exasperated and impressed. The thought of Nanami - calm, collected, suit-wearing, no-bullshit Nanami - placing a bet on his love life is almost too much.

Then again, Nanami has been around long enough to witness every single dumb interaction between you and Choso. If anyone saw it coming, it was probably him. Him, or, of course, your boss.

But still.

A literal betting pool?

That’s ridiculous.

Even worse? You were in on it.

And Choso had found out in the worst way possible.

— Two days ago, five days after you first kissed him - The moment of betrayal™

“I can’t believe you profited off of my emotional turmoil.”

You barely look guilty. In fact, you look delighted.

Choso is still reeling. Still trying to process the fact that everyone around him had been making money off of his inability to cope with his own feelings.

“I’m an opportunist,” you say, way too smug for his liking.

“That’s called being a menace,” Choso deadpans.

“And yet.”

You smirk. You actually smirk. Like this is the best thing that has ever happened to you.

And the worst part? You might be right.

Choso groans loudly, throwing his head back like he’s been personally wronged. “This is so stupid.”

“Oh, my pretty, pretty boy,” you tease, reaching up to pat his cheek. “You’re stupid.”

He grabs your wrist. Not hard, just enough to stop you from getting away with this unscathed.

You blink at him, completely unbothered.

Choso squints. “Did you just call me your pretty, pretty boy?”

You grin, clearly enjoying this way too much. “What, you gonna throw something about it?”

Choso considers it.

Briefly.

But then you’re laughing, and the sound is so good, so bright, so fucking annoying that he has to kiss you just to shut you up.

— Falling in love, one ridiculous mix at a time (contd.)

Choso sighs, deeply and dramatically, rubbing a hand down his face.

“So let me get this straight,” he says slowly, looking back at Toji. “You bet against me. Nanami bet on me. And my own girlfriend won money off of my emotional crisis.”

Toji just grins. “Technically it’s both of your emotional crises. She just embraced it.”

Choso stares. Then he sighs again, because of course.

Of course that’s how this all played out.

Toji claps a hand on his back, the picture of unbothered amusement. “Hey, don’t take it too hard, kid. The important thing is, you got the girl.”

Yeah.

Yeah, he did.

Choso glances across the club, eyes finding you instantly.

You’re perched in your booth, adjusting levels with an ease that never fails to impress him, head bobbing along to the beat of the track the current DJ is spinning. Every now and then, you glance over your shoulder at him, like you’re checking to make sure he’s watching.

(He is. He always is.)

And, God.

Choso is so in love with you.

So deeply, ridiculously, unapologetically in love with you.

Even when you’re a little shit.

Especially when you’re a little shit.

Maybe that’s why, when he finally makes his way over to your booth, the first thing he does is reach for your soundboard, just to piss you off.

Your hand smacks his away immediately.

“No.”

Choso grins. “What, I can’t touch?”

“You can touch me, not the soundboard.”

He hums, pretending to consider it. “Oh? That an invitation?”

You shove his face away, laughing. “Get out of my booth, Kamo.”

Choso leans in even closer instead, pressing a kiss to your cheek, then another just below your ear, just to see you squirm.

You do squirm, but you’re smiling.

And Choso? Yeah, he’s screwed.

But he’s okay with it. More than okay, in fact. Because the more he falls for you, the more he realizes - he’s got no desire to be saved from the chaos that’s you. The greatest nuisance in his life that’s you.

He likes it all just the way it is, and, damn, if you aren’t the best fucking thing that’s ever happened to him.

NOTE: thank you for reading! i hope you enjoyed part two as much as part one, and i also hope you stick around for the little extra stories i've whipped up for them! (art by omagatokii on X)

[enchantedlov3r]

~Wild enemies turned lovers~ A Jacaerys Velaryon love story Cowboy AU

Chapter 1

Summary: you and Jace were enemies, no one could get you guys to get along. so when you guys are forced to work together on your mother's farm for a summer, burning hatred turns into passionate love...

Pairing: cowboy!Jacaerys x cowgirl!reader

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: lots of sadness and angst, Jace being a tiny asshole, aemond being a good friend, daemon being the reader's fav as he should, and lots of cussing yayy! smut in future chapters, fluff at the end kind of, mentions of death, arguing, let me know if I missed anything! enjoyyyy!

A/N: heyyyy... how y'all doin'.... so look I know I have other stuff to work on but I just couldn't resist y'all know me! so this is dedicated to a lovely girl @coral021 so I hope you like it and it suits your liking, this will be a series btw!

You felt as though you and Jace were supposed to be enemies since the womb.

Jace was always so stuck up and such a know it all while you were more reserved and chose to hide in the shadows.

yes you were outgoing and loved riding your horse around the farm, but you also didn't like a lot of human interaction with others you didn't know.

you were reserved and introverted that way. you liked to tend to the farm animals and do chores, stuff normal people wouldn't exactly enjoy doing.

but when you put those headphones on, you were in a whole other world. a world that Jace always loved to mess up when he and his family came to visit.

It was currently 2:55pm when Jace and his family arrived. It was Daemon, your favorite. Aemond and Aegon, Lucerys, Joffery, and Rhaenyra.

you spotted them from the barn as you were feeding the pigs. you finished tidying up in the barn when your twin sister comes running towards you.

your sister was your best friend, she was the only one who you felt actually understood you.

"There here!" she says with a giddy smile. "yea I caught that, you seem a wee bit too excited, I wonder why." you say your southern drawl coming in strong.

"oh stop it! you know he doesn't like me back, it's just a tiny crush anyway. to be honest I think he takes a liking to you." she says as you both walk hand in hand.

she had the biggest crush on aemond. he showed signs that he didn't like her back but to be honest your sister could never truly stay hooked on one man.

when you guys were 12 she had a crush on jace but when you guys were 15 she obtained a crush on aegon.

"you know how you get around him, I just don't want him hurting your feelings, you know how mean they are, and besides your too sweet for him anyway. and I highly doubt he wants me," you say smiling at her as you rub your nose with hers.

she was the joy and happiness that you don't have. you weren't exactly depressed but you weren't exactly happy either, being the oldest by 5 minutes meant more pressure on you then her.

but she was still able to put a smile on your face as always. you havent been the best, especially since dad died. it's been rough on everyone but daisy doesn't show it as much. tyring to stay happy for everyone.

(gonna name her daisy btw you can use it if not thats ok too)

you eventually just shut everyone out except her. your older brother, your mom, your friends, even other family members.

"you think mom's gonna tell em? that dad's dead?" daisy asks you. you sigh and look at your house up ahead.

"maybe, they are like family and daemon really did like our dad so maybe?" you say honestly. you weren't sure.

your mom hasn't left the house in months. he recently died and you guys had the funeral a few months ago.

she hasn't moved from the house and you and daisy were constantly trying to coax her to help out.

so instead of getting up to help she calls the Targaryen family over to help for the entire summer.

now to anyone that sounds amazing. to you, it was a nightmare because of the sleep schedule, the trouble you'd have to endure, and the endless amounts of teasing and annoyance from Jace.

"I like your outfit btw but you might wanna change, and shower. you smell like mud and pigs." she says snickering.

you had on a white t-shirt with blue overalls and a cowgirl hat on to keep the heat from out of your eyes along with your handy dandy cowgirl boots.

"yea yea, I know. but not before i do this!" you exclaim before rubbing your hands all on her arms and rubbing your cheek on her cheek.

"ewwwwwww! gross! whyyyy mee!" Daisy yells out as she runs away from you. you quickly follow after her you catch a glimpse of the four boys staring at you guys. your older brother, aemond, aegon, and jace.

"ok ok! I surrender. I give up, come on daisy I won't do anything, promise!" you yell out at her.

she laughs and puts both her thumbs up before making her way back to you.

you both walk up the porch steps towards the front door when your met with your older brothers gaze.

"Where have you two been? Mom was looking for you both to greet the Targaryens." he says with a stern gaze.

"doing the work you should have been doing. that's where I was." you say with a bit of venom behind it.

"well I was busy. you know taking care of mom." he says. you roll your eyes and so does daisy.

"bullshit Tyler, I was taking care of mom while you were out fucking some girl." daisy announces.

"oh wow, but what the hell was all that talk about how you care for mom's mental health and how you needed to now step up and be the "man" of the house and take care of mom?" you question, restating what he said the day after the funeral.

"I meant that. I'm doing that, I'm putting in more work than you." he says with his chest puffed out.

"Yea tell her." Jace whispers.

'Oh.' you saw what was going on here, Tyler wanted to act all tough and big and bad because they were here. well, you were gonna show your brother just how pathetic he is.

you glare at the boys behind him and then look at your brother again.

"hey by the way, tell that girl, what was her name again, cat? yea did you ever tell her that you had chlamydia and might have given it to her? yea did you tell her that you got it from her sister? well, that's too bad cause I uhm already told her. she's on her way here shortly so that'll be a fun conversation." you say with a smile.

"let's go daisy," you say before walking towards the door. "Oh by the way welcome back boys," you say with an insincere smile on your face before pushing the door to your household open and walking in.

you hear the muffled conversation and you smile knowing that there questioning your brother and his sexual acts and the fact that he just let me punk him.

"that was just cruel but well deserved." daisy says with a giggle. you smile at her and laugh too.

"Hi, Rhaenyra." you greet as you see her and your mom talking at the dining table.

"Hello girls, always a pleasure to see you guys." she says with that warm smile on her face.

sometimes you wished she was your mom instead of your actual mom because Rhaenyra actually understood you, unlike your mom.

"I would hug you but i'm covered in mud and hay, lemme go clean up yea?" you say to her with a smile.

she smiles and nods with understanding and you walk up the stairs towards your room.

you grab a little white sundress with yellow flowers on it. you grab some panties and a bra as well and walk towards your bathroom for a well-deserved shower.

It was currently 7:45 when you finally left your room after your daily reading routine, you got out of the shower a while ago and your ready for dinner.

"Hey! Come downstairs loser, dinner is ready, and Daemons asking for you." daisy says bursting into your room.

"hey, one I'm not a loser and two you had me at Daemon's name," you say excitingly as you rush downstairs with her.

you see Daemon's white hair and his black cowboy hat and sneak up behind him and jump on his back.

"RAHHHH!" You yell out as he twirls you around with his hands on your legs holding you there.

"There she is! How's my special girl." he says with a smile on his face. you laugh and wrap your arms around his neck.

"I'm doing pretty good old man, how are you?" you say laughing when he drops you off him at calling him an old man.

"well I was doing good until that statement child." he says rolling his eyes playfully.

you laugh at him and shove him with your shoulder snatching his hat off his head and putting it on yours. You stand next to him listening to him talk about his time here in the last hour or so and you smile.

your deep in his conversation when Lucerys runs to you with Joffery.

"Hey guys! Omg! Luke you're getting taller dude and Joffery last time I saw you, you were like this short." you say shrinking your hand a bit.

"Hey guess what i'm 7 now! and Luke is 13!" he says proudly. you smile at them and high five the both of them.

"well ain't that something nice," you say roughing up Luke's hair. "Alright, boys why don't you go and find some seats, dinners ready."

they both nod and go find a seat. you smile and bid him a farewell while you go and find a seat next to your sister.

"Hey sissy." you say with a smile. "hey loser." she says with a smirk. you kick her foot and she laughs.

"girls. no playing at the table you know that." your mom says for the first time today.

"but dad never had a problem with it." daisy says in protest. you roll your eyes not even bothering to put up a fight with her.

"Yeah well he's dead isn't he, so whatever I say goes," she says sternly making everyone at the table go silent.

"yea well you haven't done anything around here anyway so what's the point." you whisper under your breath.

"I'm sorry, did you have something you wanted to share with the family?" she says with that aggression and attitude in her tone.

"Miranda don't," Rhaenyra warns.

"No its fine. Yea I do have something to share." you say putting your fork down losing your appetite.

"Here we go again." Tyler says rolling his eyes.

"You have not moved from your room in months. you have done nothing to help with the farm, you just sit around and sulk in the coldness of your room. Daisy has coaxed you to start eating properly, I have stepped up and cooked and helped take care of the fucking animals you and Dad raised when we were babies. and yet, whatever you say is supposed to go? yea, mom that makes total sense coming from a woman who couldn't even go buy fucking groceries for the goddamn house." you say out of anger.

"please don't do this, not again bro," Tyler says.

"No.. no Tyler you have no right to talk. your last words to dad were that you fucking hated him and wished he wasn't alive anymore. and for what? all because he wouldn't let you sneak some fucking whore in the house?" you say angrily with tears streaming down your face.

"You wanna act like the man of the house so bad but you couldn't even make the real man in the house proud. I blame you for his death, every single fucking day. I hate you Tyler, and I hate you Mom because you act like it's nothing. You don't check on your kids, you don't comfort Daisy at night when she wakes up crying and calling out for Dad. you do nothing. and whatever you say goes right?" you yell at Tyler and your mom.

your full-on crying now.

"I can't even look at you anymore," you say finally before looking away from them both and silently crying.

"sorry to ruin this wonderful dinner that Daisy cooked. and I'm sorry Rhaenyra and Daemon and everyone else for making you uncomfortable. I'm fine now." you say calmly.

"darling, it's totally fine. I can tell you needed to let that out." Rhaenyra says with a smile on her face.

"You just ruin everything don't you, no wonder Tyler never wants you around either," Jace says under his breath.

"what the fuck did you just say?!" you yell at jace.

"Man come on don't make her angry," Tyler says.

"JACAERYS VELARYON!" Rhaenyra yells making everyone silent at the table.

"you have no right... no right to say that. out of all people you should understand as you lost your father, don't you start with this family, and put them through more hell." she exclaims.

"I've lost my appetite, i'll eat it later daisy. I'm sorry." you say before running out of the house and running towards the barn.

"why couldn't you just stay quiet like you always are Mom? I made a n-nice dinner and you ruined it. You too Tyler and you Jace. you guys know better but you act fucking childish anyway!" Daisy says with tears in her eyes as she runs to her room.

"I'll go find her, Aegon you go after Daisy. don't worry, we'll fix this." Aemond says.

you're sitting on the bench by the coupe of chickens when you hear rustling behind you.

"go away Tyler! I don't want you here right no-"

"Not Tyler," Aemond announces interrupting your sentence.

you turn around and see aemond standing there with his hands in his pocket.

"come to tease me like Jace does? if so I'm not in the mood," you say sitting back down to feed the chickens.

"actually i'm here to comfort you. see I lost my dad too so I know how you feel. My dad may not have died like yours did but I lost mine and I'm at least civil enough to know that, that shit isn't something to make fun of." aemond says as he sits next to you.

"Yea, it's not," you say throwing more food for the chickens. you glance at him and he's staring right back at you.

"you know I don't hate him, not really." you say with a slight smile on your face.

"who Tyler?" he asks.

"nope, not him no I hate him with my life. I mean Jace. I never hated him. He just started hating on me from the jump so I just went along with it. But it's getting exhausting. were both adults now, were 18, why can't he just act more mature." you say looking at the stars in the sky.

"I don't know, I'm never really around my niece all that well but maybe he likes you. You know, arguing and pretending to hate someone for no reason at all is a sign that they like you but are trying to hide their feelings deep down."

"Oh shut up!" you say shoving him and laughing.

"Just saying," he says with a smile. you smile back at him remembering how fun and nice Aemond really was. when you guys were alone at least.

"by the way you gotta stop bullying Luke, he's 13, and you're 19. get it together bro," you say sternly locking eyes with him.

"yea yea I will." he says smiling at you. you smile back and stare at him.

for a moment it felt as though time had stopped. you both stare at each other before Aemond's smile fades and he leans a little closer to you.

he leans closer and closer until he's near your ear. "we should probably get back, daemons calling." he whispers.

"oh uhm-" you clear your throat. "yeah w-we should. thanks aemond, I really needed this talk." you say with a smile before hugging him.

"no problem." he says hugging you back as he rests his head on yours.

you both walk back engaged in conversation again about his love life. of course, he didn't have a girlfriend. you're gonna have to tell that to Daisy, maybe another night...not tonight.

then out of the blue, Jace pops up in your mind and you speak before your mind can tell you to shut up.

"D-does Jace have a girlfriend by any chance?" you ask keeping your head straight, not daring to look at Aemond's amused face and teasing smirk.

"no...he doesn't. why, are you interested?" he asks nudging you a bit as he chuckles with amusement.

,"No, not at all. Just curious is all." you say with a little giggle. you both make it back to the house and are greeted with Rhaenyra and Daemon's lovely faces.

they thank you that you came back and thank Aemond for bringing you back.

you smile at them and bid the three a goodbye. you try to make your way up the stairs but the sound of Jace's voice stops you.

"Hey, wait," he says walking to catch you quick enough. you turn around with an emotionless expression as you really don't want to speak to him.

"look I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that when I know your clearly hurting. I know what it's like to lose your father or someone close to you. I shouldn't have been such an asshole and I'm really sorry. If you could ever find it in your heart to forgive me, I would really appreciate it." he says with a serious face.

you saw past the serious facade though. there was something in his eyes, a look of not only a feeling of apologetics but of sincerity too, and passion and remorse.

a look that you can forgive.

"I forgive you Jace. I am really tired now so, goodnight." you smile at him and give him a light hug.

he hugs you back as his eyes widen. you've never shown him affection like this and neither has he so this... this was new.

"goodnight, i'll see you tomorrow then. my mom told me to help you with whatever chores you need help with," he says.

"oh ok, well then see ya tomorrow Jace." you say as you turn on your heel to make your way towards the stairs and go to your room.

you didn't quite know what tomorrow would hold for you but you prayed it wasn't Jace being an asshole.

if only you knew how much tomorrow was going to be hell for you...

Taglist: @raynesbandaids @liliesdiary @ribbonprincess and anyone else who wants to join.

COMMENTS, REBLOGS, AND LIKES ARE MUCH APPRECIATED!

©enchantedlov3r| All rights reserved. Do not repost, reupload, translate, modify, or claim my work as your own.

[milandsk]

i count your heartbeats before you sleep

Pete Wentz x Reader

angst or fluff, enemies to lovers, reader has a nightmare, hurt/comfort, one bed trope

⭑˚₊ ‧° 𓆩♡𓆪 °‧ ₊˚⭑

Working with Fall Out Boy was supposed to be nothing but easy. Your best friend Patrick knew that that you were, a skilled guitarist so when they needed one - you were the first one to be be called. It you was (supposed) to be great, you knew the guys, you liked them - they liked you. Except for Pete. Pete Wentz. You never liked him but the hatred became a spiral when you had to work together. At first you thought it was jealousy of your skills or your relationship with Patrick, but honestly? With time the reasons were long gone. It was everything.

“You’re rushing.” he muttered loud enough for everyone to hear during one of the practices.

Your fingers stilled at the fretboard. Patrick shot you a warning look but you didn't care.

“I think you're the one who is too slow.” you shot him a tight smile that didn't reach your eyes.

“Oh, really?” Pete narrowed his eyes. “Because from what I remember I'm the one that wrote this song.”

Before he could say more Patrick stepped between you two.

“How about we start from the beginning?” he said more than asked.

You scoffed and Pete rolled his eyes but none of you disagreed.

That was what every practice was like. The only reason you weren't fired was because you were good at playing and Patrick liked you too much. Also Pete was suddenly interested in actually attending rehearsals instead of giving lame excuses. That was supposed to be a good thing if he didn't argue with you all the time instead of playing.

But nothing was as bad as travelling. You weren't spending much time in hotel rooms so you were booked in twos. Thankfully you were always paired with Patrick. But Pete always made it his personal mission to intrude your space.

You were half-laying on a bed, your back against the cushions. Pete was hovering over Patrick who was sitting at the table going over the setlist.

You let out a frustrated sight.

“Can you leave Wentz? I want to take a shower.”

Pete barely turned to look at you.

“And how am I the problem?” he sounded bored. You rolled your eyes finally getting up.

“I don't feel comfortable changing with you in a room.” it was a lie. You just wanted him to leave.

He finally turned around to shoot you a look with raised eyebrows that said “Really?”.

“Not everyone is a whore like you, Wentz.” you went to your suitcase.

Patrick stopped what he was doing and turned around.

“Can you two not?” he asked but Pete just laughed.

“Don’t worry, Trick. I'm taking it as a compliment.” he grinned at you to which you just rolled your eyes.

You took some clothes from your bag before walking past him to the bathroom.

“Aw, without me?” he asked with mock hurt before you slammed the door with too much force.

You heard his muffled laugh from the other room as you undressed and cold water hit your skin. The shower did not relax you completely but it calmed down the thoughts running inside your head. Afterwards you put on your shorts and tight tank top that was way too thin but you didn't care.

You took one last deep breath before opening the door. Patrick just glanced at you before turning back to the papers in front of him.

Pete was staring at you.

Well, not exactly at you but at your tank top. He opened his mouth to say something but he immediately closed it, his mind going blank for a moment. You brushed past him, trying to ignore the heat that suddenly went through your body.

“Fuck.” Patrick said suddenly, earning a questioning glance from you.

“What’s going on?” you asked.

Pete finally stopped eyeing you to also look at him. Patrick just sighed throwing on a jacket.

“I have to pick up something from a studio, I'll be back in an hour.” and with that he was gone before either of you could say more.

“Huh.” Pete said with an amused smirk.

“What ‘huh’?” you asked not hiding annoyance in your voice as you sat on the bed.

He just shrugged, getting closer.

“He should know better than to leave me alone with you.” his voice dropping an octave.

You felt your stomach twist but you tried to keep your voice steady. Instead of answering you asked.

“What's going on with you today?” you tilted your head. “Normally you would argue with me but now you're doing this… whatever it is.”

He stopped only when he was standing in front of the edge of the bed.

“There’’s a lot of ways to piss you off.” he was looking down at you. “And can't a guy have fun?”

“You can't” a grimace went through your face. “and not with me.”

He let out a menacing chuckle before stepping back.

“Oh, don't worry, sweetheart. You couldn't pay me to fuck you.” his back was turned to you as he walked towards the door.

"Thank God." you muttered right before the door closed behind him with a loud thud.

If any of you were ever thankful that you didn't have to share a room - you spoke too soon.

Patrick was tired when he gave you the keys and rubbing his forehead mumbled that if any of you don't like it - they can sleep in the hallway.

So now you were in the room with your bag thrown on the floor, staring at one bed in front of you.

“You sleep on the floor.” you announced grabbing a towel and heading to the bathroom.

“Dream on.” the last thing you saw before closing the door was Pete taking off his shirt and laying on the bed.

The warm water did nothing to melt away your annoyance. When you came out you saw him sprawled on your side. He didn't seem bothered by the fact that he was shirtless. You chose to ignore it against your better judgement.

“You’re seriously sleeping in jeans?” you got closer to the bed, throwing your used towel on the floor.

"No 'hi’, 'how are you?'" he mocked. "You're quick to get in my pants."

You twisted your face in disgust and pushed him with your knee. He let out a scoff but shifted to his side.

“Don't get on my side.” you muttered as you got under the covers.

“Wouldn’t dream about it.”

The silence settled over the room for what felt like an eternity, with only the soft hum of the air conditioning and distant traffic breaking through the heavy stillness. Minutes ticked by slowly, and after shifting around in bed for a long moment you still couldn't find a good position. But the heat of his body was the only thing you could focus on and he wasn't even touching you.

“Stop moving.” he muttered annoyed.

“I can't sleep.”

“Not my problem.” Pete turned his back to you.

You stared at the dark ceiling but eventually closed your eyes, falling into a peaceful dream that didn't last long.

The darkness and shadows seemed too real, too close. When you tried to scream no sound came out. You felt panic rush through you like you were drowning.

“-Wake up.” someone's voice jolted you awake as you practically jumped.

Your eyes flickered over the room. It was still the night. You could see Pete's worried face through the darkness. You barely registered as he helped you sit up. The breaths you tried to take felt shallow like you couldn't get oxygen into your body. You trembled with every breath you tried to take. His warm hand went to steady you on your back.

“It’s okay, it's just a bad dream.” his voice was unexpectedly soft as he rubbed slow circles on your back. You tried to nod when you noticed how damp your cheeks were. You were crying. You were crying in front of Pete Fucking Wentz.

You tried to wipe away your tears. Your unsteady hands painfully rubbed your face with too much force. He quickly grabbed your wrist but his touch was gentle.

“Don’t.” his voice was firm with an underlying softness “You’ll only hurt yourself.”

He tucked away your hair behind your ear to see your face before wiping away your tears with his thumb. His hand lingered around your cheek, gently cupping it. For some reason you melted into his hand like it was the only thing keeping you from falling apart.

“I-” you started but you felt a lump in your throat.

He looked at you patiently encouraging you to finish.

“I’m sorry.”

His face softened, his brown eyes seemed so warm.

“Don’t apologize.”

“No. I mean it. I- I shouldn't wake you up. I don't know why I’m crying. I'm sorry.” you felt yourself turning into blabbering mess.

“Hey- hey, stop. It's okay.” his hand caressed your hair.

You felt tears blur vision in your eyes again. He saw that pulling you into hug. Your face hid in a crook of his neck. His arms wrapped around you. His warmth made your body relax, the tightness in your shoulders disappeared. You practically melted into him.

For a second you wanted to laugh at the absurdity of it all. Here you were, in bed with shirtless Pete Wentz - a guy that made your life hell, crying over a nightmare.

He felt your tears on his neck but he didn't care. He continued to gently comb through your hair as you calmed down.

“You want to lie down, sweetheart?” he asked, the nickname not feeling foreign on his lips.

You nodded not pulling away. His hand slid to your hips as he shifted. Now you were laying against his side, still hidden in his neck. Your hands were on his warm chest.

“It’s okay, I'm here.”

As you calmed down his hands were still wrapped tightly around you. After few minutes you finally pulled back a little to look up at him. He looked calm as his eyes searched your face for an answer.

“Better?” he asked.

You nodded slightly, just now seeing the way his neck was damp because of you. He noticed it smirking slightly.

“At least I'm not wearing a shirt, right?”

“I hate you.” you said but your voice lacked conviction.

“Sure, you do.”

You tried to hide a small smile that lingered on your lips. His smirk turned into something softer.

“You’re kind of cute, you know that?”

“What?” your voice was weirdly quiet as a blush went through your cheeks.

“You’re cute” he repeated “and I don't hate you that much.”

You swallowed. Your arms were still wrapped loosely around his neck. His hand steadied you around your waist while the other was still gently caressing your hair.

“I don't hate you too.” you whispered.

His grip around your waist tightened as he pulled you closer.

“Go to sleep, okay?” his thumb traced circles on your hip. “I’m here and I'm not going anywhere.”

He kissed your forehead as you put back your head in his neck. As you both fallen asleep you knew that the warmth of him would keep you safe from the bad dreams. Your breaths were steady in the same rhythm. You felt safe. You felt safe with Pete Wentz and for the first time in your life the thought of it wasn't ridiculous.

[altzfanfic]

hiiii could I request something for Adam Stanheightttt ? Like an enemies to lovers type thingggg

Is this it?

Adam Stanheight x reader  

a/n im so sorry if this is too long or if its too rushed. im still new to writing im gonna get the hang of it i swear also i might do a part 2 im not sure yet if this warrants one :P |no use of pronouns or y/n

ps i kinda like giving these fics titles of song but they arent super related to the actual fic ;-; anyways feedback is much appreciated <3

wc: 1485

The first time I met Adam, I was moving into my new (to you at least, but actually very old) apartment after I decided I had enough of my parents. I was moving the remaining boxes into my apartment and I heard a shutter from a camera. In front of my door was a group of about 4 people wearing matching shirts that said  “Wrath of the Gods” and in front of them was a guy with a camera.

“Oh, excuse me,” I said holding the heavy boxes of my remaining belongings. They all turned at me and didn't say anything until a man with greasy brown hair in front of the camera spoke up “Hey” he said walking towards me and I decided to put the boxes down in front of the door they were currently blocking. 

“I’m Scott Tibbs lead singer of this band Wrath of the Gods, we’re just taking pictures for our new album, you should come to our show, we can always use more groupies” You stare at him for a while before the photographer spoke up 

“Hi, I’m Adam, you must be my new neighbor I live right across the hall right there” and he pointed to the door nearest to your apartment. “Hi,” you said and you introduced yourself as well before pausing “Do you think you could take pictures somewhere else so I can finish moving in?” you asked as you reached down to pick up the boxes.

 “Oh, right, yeah, sure,” Adam said awkwardly. He approached the band members and they all walked downstairs most likely to find a different place to finish their makeshift photoshoot. Adam followed behind them but before he turned to you and smiled. You smiled halfheartedly in return and finished settling into your new home. At that point, you had no idea that you would grow to hate your new neighbor. 

It was a buildup of more and more inconveniences like that which caused you to build a slow but strong resentment towards Adam. Things like leaving trash in the middle of the hall, coming home at 3 in the morning and making a bunch of noise, and the smell of cigarettes or weed always lingered in the hall because of him even though you lived in a smoke-free apartment.    

After a few times confronting him about his constant disturbances, he started to seem annoyed. You weren't sure at which point the hate between the two of you started but after living there a few months, anytime you saw Adam or he saw you both your eyes filled with an intense irritation and after a while, it became simply an immense anger. You were unaware that Adam’s hatred for you was not fueled by mere annoyance, but instead by a wall he built around his fear of not being able to have you.

 He was so sure that in your head he was nothing but an inconvenience that he had to convince himself that he didn't care, that he didn't want you to begin with. He pushed away any thought he had about you. It had started becoming increasingly difficult, he noticed, to pretend to hate you back. With every snarky comment that was exchanged between the two of you, he found himself focusing on everything except whatever you were mad about. He thought about the way your nose moved when you huffed angrily at him or the way you moved your hands when you were dumbing down why whatever stupid thing he did was a nuisance for you. 

The more the feud went on the more you found yourself hating things that you would never hate in anyone else and you didn’t know why. You hated the way hair fell on his face, you hated the way his whiny voice insisted that you were always blowing everything out of proportion but there was a part deep down that knew that even though you hated Adam, getting to see him an argue him was the best part of your day. 

There is such a small difference between anger and adoration because they are both just different forms of passion. Maybe you hated each other, it could be that you and Adam were just angry people or maybe you were both passionate people, that the world had bullied into just being angry. It’s possible that in a different life, in a different world, you and Adam could have been loving people. 

You weren't sure when you started hating Adam, and you were even less sure when the subconscious parts of your mind decided that you started loving him. 

You stopped one night outside your apartment building for a smoke when a small cat approached you, you put the cigarette out and reached down to pet it. The cat started meowing and you sat down on the ground next to it.  A shadow came towards you and you immediately recognized the voice, but it wasn’t talking to you, it was talking to the cat. “You should be quieter,” he said as he approached the feline, “this one seems to hate just about any noise or maybe just noise that I make ” he sat next to the cat so that it was between the two of you.

Perhaps it was because you were tired, or maybe that part of you that started to care for Adam had started to overpower the pettier part that “hated him”, but what you were sure of was that you were far too tired to engage in trivial disputes and you were also painfully aware that you were far too excited to see Adam. 

Your lack of reply didn’t go unnoticed by Adam and he paused for a minute confused by your lack of response, and maybe even a little hurt by it, as if your unwillingness to participate served as a rejection. “Hey,” he said softly as he gently placed his hand on your shoulder almost as if he was trying to wake you up. The physical contact caused you to look at him, there was a brief moment where you just looked at him, and neither of you noticed that the stray cat had already run off nor had you noticed that the space between the two of you was fairly small. The entire time you had known Adam you had never been this close physically, you took a few moments more to admire the way his features looked in the dim street lighting. 

“Hey,” you finally replied and you started to stand up off the ground while Adam did the same. “So um, you seem kinda out of it,” he said as you both made your way into the apartment building. You start to realize that what Adam is expressing is a genuine concern, and you begin to think that maybe Adam doesn't really hate you and you don't hate him. “Yeah I’m fine, just tired,” you reply. “That might be my fault,” he said in a sheepish, apologetic tone “I’ve been working night more and I might be a little loud when I come back home but it’s not on purpose honestly” he starts to ramble in a nervous way that you had never seen in him before. “It’s ok,” you say to him. “Are we?”  he says almost in a whisper as looks at you hesitantly for a little after asking. 

You look at him confused for a little before he clarifies “Are we ok? Like are we cool?” You smile at him before saying “I didn't know there was a ‘we’”. He smiles back at you, refreshed that your banter seems to be back, although now with much less animosity. “What if that’s what I wanted?” he said simply but with the veil of friendly banter that he leaned into out of fear of rejection. 

You were a little taken aback by his sudden boldness and so you couldn’t come up with a witty reply or any reply for that matter. “You don’t have to say yes” his voice interrupted the thought running through your mind, “But my friend Scott is in a band, they're having a concert next Friday and maybe” his voice trails off as if too scared to fully ask. “I would love to,” you said suddenly and Adam looked up at you surprised, but excited “Great! So, uh, it’s a date?” he asked. You smile and nod as you walk to the door of your apartment. “Yeah, a date, good night Adam,” you said before disappearing behind the door of your apartment. “Goodnight,” he said in an unusually upbeat tone. Adam took a second before going into his own apartment and silently praised himself for finally winning you over. Neither of you was sure when or why you started hating each other, but what you were both sure of was that you couldn’t wait until the next time you could see each other.

[tiredfoxtf]

Not to forcefem Android Joel but technically his owner could choose to modify his appearance any way they'd like so long it doesn't mess with the 20 year warranty from the maker. His face absolutely can't be changed and the length of his limbs must stay the same.

As Joel's sense of self grows, he worries more about all the changes that could happen to him that he has no control over. What if someone decides he should be blonde instead? That he should appear musuclar? Or have a big bust?

He's aware he's a product to be sold. He's aware he has to cater to a market.

At least Etho and Tango like him the way he is

Joel shouldn't care for his appearance. It is not something that should be of his concern, he exists to be perceived and it's not his decision how. Except it's a big deal to him, except he doesn't want to be subjected to change against his will. He might not necessarily be a fan of his shell, but it doesn't mean he wants his body modified. He has imagined all different scenarios where the executives would change his shell to "appeal to the wider audience" and it gave him all the different kinds of emotional responses: repulsion, hatred, awkwardness and annoyance. On the rare scenario he would actually enjoy the fantasy, but that was a very quiet minority. He understands it's his purpose, to be presented and sold, a machine, a product. So he wouldn't have a say if it really comes to it. And awfully, it scares him. Joel tries to suppress this fear, he tries to be okay with it, but he really isn't.

Etho and Tango are a safe haven he knows he always will have. They seem to enjoy his company, they seem to like him as he is and probably will love him still if he was modified in some way. It's the only comfort he can allow himself to have.

[snoopygirlsblog]

Ups?

The tension in the air between you and Eren had been growing like a weed. His increasingly radical ideals clashed frontally with your vision, generating heated discussions that often ended in frustration and mutual resentment. Today was no exception.

You were in an improvised meeting room, surrounded by maps and strategic plans, but your attention was completely focused on your verbal confrontation.

"You don't understand, (your name)!" Eren exclaimed, his voice full of an almost fanatic intensity. "This is the only way to ensure our freedom! We must be willing to do whatever it is necessary!"

"At any cost, Eren?" You replicated, your voice rising along with his. "You are talking about sacrificing innocent lives! How can you justify that?"

"They are the enemy!" He shouted, his green eyes shining with a gloomy determination. "They have oppressed us for centuries! It's time to pay!"

"Revenge is not the answer, Eren!" You insisted, your frustration growing. "There are other forms, we must look for other solutions ..."

Your voices echoed in the room, ignoring the uncomfortable looks of the few present. The discussion intensified, each more clinging to their position, unable to give up or an apex.

"You are too naive, (your name)!" Eren snapped, his condescending tone. "You don't understand the true nature of this world!"

"And you are blinded by your hatred!" You answered, anger staining your words. "You are losing sight of what really matters!"

The exchange became more personal, old wounds and resentments by surface. The accusations flew from one side to another, mutual respect eroding with each cry.

Suddenly, the room door opened with a dry blow. Levi's figure appeared on the threshold, his face a mask of impatience and disgust. His gaze toured the scene of chaos, stopping in your reddish faces and the atmosphere full of hostility.

"What the hell is happening here?" He asked, his low and dangerous voice, interrupting your altercation as a whip.

You both stayed silent, the palpable tension in the air. Levi's gaze moved from you to Eren, her frown fueled more and more deep.

"They were supposed to be discussing the strategy for the next incursion," Levi continued, his tone loaded with reprobation. "Instead, they seem to have a patio of recreation fight."

Before neither of them could respond, Levi acted with surprising speed. In a fluid and precise movement, he raised his foot and gave an accurate kick in Eren's stomach, sending it a few steps forward with a growl growl.

Then, without losing a moment, he turned slightly and applied a similar kick, although perhaps with a little less strength, making you wobble forward.

"Uhg!" Gimes in unison with Eren, both taking their hands to the affected areas.

Levi looked at you with an expression of absolute annoyance. "Enough. The two behave as spoiled children. Do you want to fight? Go to the training field and relieve their frustration there, far from the people who are really trying to find a solution."

His gaze hardened. "And if I hear this type of uproar again, both will clean the stables by hand for a week. Understood?"

Both nodded quickly, embarrassed and sore. Levi's abrupt and physical intervention had achieved what words could not: silence your dispute.

Levi sighed, massaging the temple with exasperation. "Now, act as adults and come into the task they have in hand." With a last warning look, he turned and left the room, leaving behind an uncomfortable silence and two sore stomachs.

[jammatown919]

Nowhere Left to Run

Yaz once believed things would be okay if she could just get off Isla Nublar. She knows better now.

Chapter Five: Not Even Toro

At 21, Yaz realized nothing had really changed.

She did well for a little while at least. The ranch, therapy, her job at the bookstore, her relationships; it was all good, until it wasn't.

Things got messy again with the public discovery of Mantah Corp. Island and the dinosaurs it housed. Yaz wouldn't have cared, except for Ben's concern that if Bumpy were to be rounded up with the others, she would be shipped off to some sanctuary where he'd never be able to see her again. When he and Sammy hatched a crazy scheme to get there first and sneak her back to the mainland with them, Yaz couldn't bring herself to go, but she gave her blessing to bring Bumpy to the ranch for safekeeping.

And then she had an ankylosaurus again, except this time she and Sammy would be primarily responsible. They learned quickly that Bumpy could not be housed in the barn with Bessie and the horses. With her hatred of enclosed spaces and that hefty tail of hers, she could break out of just about anything that wasn't solid metal. For the sake of Yaz and Sammy not having to re-capture a cow, two horses, and a dinosaur on a near-weekly basis, Bumpy got her own outdoor pen to sleep in.

Even so, Bumpy managed to get herself into trouble. Most of the time, when she escaped in the middle of the night, she would wander around the ranch on her own until someone called her for breakfast. Some days, however, she would bust through one of the fences surrounding the property and go frolicking about where she wasn't supposed to be, risking discovery. Just last month, she'd broken into a neighboring property and severely pissed off the owner, who had promised to call the DPW and have her taken if he ever saw her again.

No matter what they did to try to mitigate the habit, it seemed Bumpy would always be something of an escape artist, so Yaz began to accept it as a fact of life.

When it was her turn to get up early to feed the animals one morning, she hardly batted an eye at the busted-open gate to Bumpy's empty pen. A minor annoyance at this point, and one she'd been expecting, as it had been about a week since the last breakout. She simply put the rest of her morning on hold to search the ranch.

When she found the gate leading out to the unowned northwestern fields broken down, the annoyance became a little less minor. Still, at least it wasn't the fence closest to Carl's place. That could have ruined her morning, if she had to deal with that guy chewing her out alongside tracking Bumpy down.

She didn't love walking into those fields alone, knowing that the occasional Parasaurolophus and, at one point, Stegosaurus, weren't out of the question, but with it being past dawn and adequately lit, she didn't feel unsafe enough to go wake Sammy either. Besides, Bumpy never went far. This would be a quick detour; in and out in ten minutes, tops.

Yaz scanned the fields as she walked, searching for any sign of her favorite dinosaur.

"Bumper Car!" she called out, hands cupped around her mouth. "Come on, Bumpy, you know you're not supposed to be out here."

She paused for a moment, listening and watching, before she moved on to something more persuasive.

"There are going to be exactly zero berries with your breakfast if I don't see you in the next two minutes!"

Typically, that line got things moving nicely. Bumpy would come running, whining for her favorite treat, and Yaz would be able to get her back to the ranch without much further trouble.

However, instead of the indignant cry of an ankylosaurus who would not stand to be deprived of berries, Yaz heard something else. A deep, agonized bellow and a thud that just slightly shook the ground beneath her feet. She knew instinctively what it was. What it meant. That she needed to run.

But something in her brain must have misfired, because suddenly she was running toward the sound. For a moment, her own safety left her mind and all she could think was that she needed to make sure whatever dinosaur had screamed out that death cry wasn't Bumpy. What she would do when she inevitably ran into the carnivore responsible, she didn't know. She just needed to make sure.

It took until she saw it for Yaz's wits to catch up with her, and by then it was too late to turn back.

Way out in the field, not particularly close by but easily visible due to the lack of trees, was something she'd hoped she would never have to see again. A Carnotaurus, standing over a freshly killed Parasaurolophus. Blood pooled around its feet, but it wasn't eating. It must have seen or smelled or heard Yaz approach, because it was staring directly at her.

Yaz stopped dead under that piercing gaze, promising death if she made a single wrong move. And yet, something scared her even more than that.

This Carnotaurus was completely unfamiliar to her. Dull green, with a clean, unburned face. The complete opposite of the one that had terrorized her on Nublar, and somehow that was the worst part.

It wasn't even Toro. A deadly predator hunting dangerously close to her home, and it couldn't even be one she knew.

The Carnotaurus's snarl, despite the distance between them, hit her as if it had bared its teeth inches from her face. Yaz probably would have stumbled back until she fell if she could bring herself to move at all. As things were, she was locked in place, unsure what would trigger a reaction from the beast and what would increase her chances of survival.

She didn't think she could make it by running. For one thing, her ankle hurt from the mad sprint over here, and she didn't have her brace this morning. For another, where would she go? Home? There was no way it would lose her trail in such a short distance. If it followed her, she'd only be leading it back to the ranch, where it would have no trouble with their fences even if Bumpy hadn't left the gate wide open. Not only would running home be pointless, but she would just be putting Sammy in danger. Frankly, she would rather die.

So, what then? Run in the opposite direction and die leading it away? Wait here frozen and hope it lost interest long enough for her to go back the way she came? Pull out her phone like an idiot and call the DPW, who would not arrive until long after she'd already been eaten?

She would have to decide quickly. The longer she stood there, the more agitated the Carnotaurus seemed to become. It occurred to her in some vague sense that it might see her as a scavenger, here to steal some of its hard-earned kill, and that she might be able to get away with just backing off. Maybe it would go back to eating. Maybe it didn't care enough to chase.

But she still couldn't move.

Her treacherous body remained firmly rooted in place even as the Carnotaurus stepped forward, growling out another warning. It wanted her to leave. All she had to do was leave. Why couldn't she just leave?

Finally, the beast had enough of her. Enough of the idiot who couldn't just heed its warnings and get the hell out of its space. It began to approach, making low, defensive sounds as it lowered its body in preparation to charge. It was going to kill her if she didn't move.

At last, her body unlocked. As it opened its mouth to roar, she opened hers to scream, and she began to scramble backward. Still, her hesitation likely would have been her death if not for Bumpy.

Just as the Carnotaurus surged forward, a deep bellow split the air, and suddenly Bumpy came barreling out of nowhere to slam directly into the beast's lowered head and break its stride. They shook each other off, both momentarily stunned. Yaz really should have taken that moment to put some distance between herself and her imminent demise, but she couldn't bring herself to leave without Bumpy.

The two dinosaurs began to size each other up, Bumpy's tail beating against the ground in challenge as she stood between her opponent and Yaz. The Carnotaurus moved forward and just barely stepped back in time before it could be punished with a swift club to the face. Roaring and stomping, Bumpy began to drive her rival backward with quick jabs of her horns and sweeps of her tail. The Carnotaurus snapped back repeatedly, snarling and attempting to slam her with its head.

Louder than either of them was the pounding of Yaz's heart. She couldn't take it. The earth-shaking stomps. The ear-splitting roars. The anticipation of blood and shattered bones. She might as well be back on Nublar.

Trembling, she took one step toward home and promptly collapsed. She was going to die here. She was actually, genuinely going to die, and all she could do was shake and sob and wait for it. Vaguely, she thought that she wanted to see Sammy again before it happened, but another part of her was grateful that she was alone. She wouldn't have wanted Sammy to watch her die.

But then Bumpy broke the stalemate, landing a good, hard blow right on the Carnotaurus's nose. It staggered back, frantically shaking its head, and finally decided that this fight wasn't worth it. It retreated back to its kill and hunkered down, still ready to defend, but no longer interested in pursuing.

Bumpy turned and bounded in Yaz's direction, and for a solid few seconds all Yaz could think was that there was a dinosaur running at her. She let out a strangle sob and shielded her face, hoping it would be quick. Only when the pounding footsteps stopped in front of her and the soft, comforting rumbling began, did some of her wits return to her.

It's Bumpy. She's your friend. She just saved your life.

Slowly, she peeked out from behind her forearm to stare into the gentle eyes of the one dinosaur in the world she was supposed to feel completely safe with. She would have sat there, staring dumbly and crying, until the Carnotaurus regained the confidence to try again, but Bumpy wouldn't let her.

The loyal ankylosaurus nudged her insistently, gently working her head and shoulders beneath Yaz until she could clumsily force the dazed woman onto her back. From there, she made swiftly for the ranch, seemingly aware of the fact that Yaz wasn't holding on and controlling her gait to be as smooth as possible. She galloped through the very gate she'd broken earlier, crying out at the top of her lungs.

Yaz was dimly aware of Sammy calling back. She must have already been outside. Maybe it had been so long that she had come out to see what in the animals' routine had gotten held up, or maybe she'd heard the commotion. In any case, she came running to meet Bumpy just beyond the gate.

"Oh, my God!" The pure shock in her voice encouraged Yaz to lift her head just a little. The fear she saw in those sweet brown eyes made her wish she hadn't.

She could only imagine how she looked, mostly slack and quietly sobbing on the back of a panicked dinosaur. Sammy must have been absolutely horrified.

"What happened?!" Sammy reached out for Yaz's shoulders, maybe to pull her off of Bumpy, but she didn't get that far. Yaz instinctively cringed at the attempted contact, and Sammy pulled back in surprise. "Yaz? Yasmina!"

Gracelessly, Yaz began to prop herself up on Bumpy's back, lost her balance partway through, and fell into an awkward slide broken by Sammy's outstretched arms.

"Yaz, honey, sweetie," Sammy murmured frantically, her eyes desperately searching for something in Yaz's face. "Are you hurt? I-I heard..."

Yaz blubbered uselessly through her tears, not even sure what she was trying to say. She could hardly even think. Everything jumbled together, and it was all she could do to latch on to one disjointed notion and force it into words.

"It wasn't even Toro..."

"What?" Sammy dragged her closer, away from Bumpy, who moved back toward the gate as if standing guard. "What are you talking about?"

Yaz didn't even know anymore. She just knew that for some reason, that was what stuck out the most in her mind, so she murmured it over and over. Fortunately, Sammy eventually managed to put the pieces together herself.

"Carnotaurus?" she asked urgently. "Were you attacked?"

Yaz shook her head, less to say that she hadn't been and more because it felt worse than that. Though the Carnotaurus hadn't touched her, it had taken something from her. Some last bit of comfort that had been keeping her going all this time.

For so long now, she and everyone around her had been saying the same thing; she'd survived dinosaurs once before, and she could do it again. But after today, she knew that wasn't true. Whatever had enabled her to survive on Nublar was gone now, leaving her worst fears to become her reality.

She knew now exactly what would happen if she were to encounter a dangerous carnivore. She would freeze, and without someone else around to save her, she would die.

Nowhere was safe. Not even home, where it seemed anything could show up just outside without so much as a DPW alert and all that presently stood between her and a territorial predator was a broken fence.

She might as well still be on Nublar, for all the protection being on the mainland really offered. Just like before, the only ones she could rely on were her small group of friends. Except now, most of them were scattered across the country, and her own survival instincts could not be trusted. All she had was Sammy and Bumpy.

Realizing this, she pressed herself firmly against Sammy's body, squeezing her tightly. She let Sammy, murmuring quickly about calling the DPW and that everything was going to be okay, hoist her up and begin gently leading her back to the house. Yaz stumbled up the steps to the porch, clinging to Sammy all the while.

She didn't feel safe inside. How could she, knowing that these walls would only offer so much protection if a large enough dinosaur really committed to breaking them down? Still, it was better than out there, and even in the moment, with her mind as scattered as it was, Yaz knew in some vague sense that it would a long time before she left this house again.

------

Thank you for reading! Chapters are tagged with the fic title for easy searching on my blog!

If you enjoyed, please consider reblogging or buying the writer a coffee!

[bloxtales-dawn-of-timeau]

{"Hey Sheddy... There's people with us..."}

"I know. I don't want to acknowledge them yet."

-🗡---⏳️---🌐---🔨---🍗-

[EDIT: I'm gonna edit this shit a lot. Please expect changes]

📝INFO - Heya this is an Ask blog/Story blog for My Blocktales AU, Blox Tales: Dawn of Time. Also, I made this Blog intending to have a Shedletsky Ask Blog with my twist, but I decided to include him alongside my Main OC, Coiler also known as Player or Daniel! It'll be mostly text with some Gacha Life 2 images (ADHD is a nightmare). But If I had enough motivation, there would be drawings! (I'm not a great artist. Believe me) Also, this is my first ask blog!

🚫DNI REQUIREMENTS - No pedophiles, or other gross stuff. The Poster is uncomfortable with those stuff, so stay veryyyy far away.

💖SHIPS - The Main Ship is between Shedletsky and Coiler, but any ships are indeed allowed and They can be shipped with anyone you want. (Pls note: Shedletsky and Brighteyes are just friends in my AU and are not married)

📔AU - While this is not yet a complete Au, it's still an AU. Which means a lot of things will be different. If you don't like that, you can create your own Ask blog. Nothing is stopping you. But please note, this is fanfiction and any person that is mentioned or appears here is only the character and not the real person.

Anyway, This is my AU:

This is a Block Tales x The Robloxian: Until Dawn au but there are major changes. (Like Myths, YouTubers, and popular Players exist, and other games appear are mentioned) The Crossover is only gonna be between the characters, and Coiler's flashback.

The Guardians are a special rank in the administration group, and have a weaker version of the admin command. They are the wielders of the SFOTH swords and have been assigned by the swords themselves to protect it. Though sometimes, the sword goes rouge and kills its wielder to be wielded by a new one (For example, The Ice Dagger killed its user and handed itself to Cruel King)

Roblox (The character) is the one that send Coiler and Guest 333 back in time to save Builderman and Erik.cassel before its too late.

Instead of being alone, Coiler is joined by his past self, Dylan (Before he became a Guardian), Noobin (Saw noob past self), and Gust (Guest's past self).

They are also joined by Guest 333 also known as "Viewer" or "Viny", He's a white hat hacker (like Inc0mu) fighting against the evil myths/hackers/admins/players, He died but he managed to give Roblox a piece of his code that serves as his current vessel. He's a replacement for the Heal pads and will not be fighting as he's still recovering.

No one except Shedletsky, Mayor Thaniyel, and The bosses know that Coiler has a team as they often split up and then regroup when near the boss area, and everyone thinks that he defeated the bosses alone

In Demo 3, instead of fighting 4 emotions, he'll be fighting 5 emotions. GREED and SOLITUDE are replaced by DOUBT and ENVY. The new emotion, GUILT, will replace HATRED as the final boss, They each represent each party member's strongest negative emotion. (DOUBT = Gust, ENVY = Dylan, FEAR = Viny, HATRED = Noobin, and lastly GUILT = Coiler)

Griefer survives stabbing his food, but his right leg is now gone. He still hears voices but it's faint, He's sometimes dragged by Gust to join them, much to Noobin's annoyance.

Coiler, and sometimes the entire group visit the other places when they get bored, and often had to fight rouge player

It's been 6 months since Coiler and Viny start their journey to prevent the future. Because why would it take just a few days to get the swords? They have to atleast have breaks and challenges.

[IF YOU WANT MORE LORE OR INFORMATION, JUST ASK ME. I'll RESPOND IF I HAVE THE TIME]

👤CHARACTERS - The Main characters will be Coiler, and Shedletsky. And the side characters will be Viny, Dylan, Noobin and Gust. But other characters can appear and take over too!

📝TEXT GUIDE -

Texts associated with Coiler is Pink

Texts associated with Shedletsky is orange

Characters like Viny, Noobin, Gust and Dylan will have their own colored texts, while other characters has their unique texts

Coiler and other Admins talks with a curly brakets, Viny, Benjamin, and Zabriel (Kitchen Wizard) talk with a Parentheses (because they're considered dead), Gust talk with square braket cus he's mute, and other have quotation marks.

🔖TAGS -

#"{What's Up?}" - Coiler & Shedletsky ask

#"{Living the life}" - Coiler & Shedletsky post

#<Um... hi?> - The poster interaction

#{"Can answer that."} - Coiler ask

#{"I keep seeing memories...} - Coiler post

#"This is a good distraction from my life." - Shedletsky ask

#"I'm worried about my mental health" - Shedletsky post

#(You feel like being watched) - Viny mentioned

#(A wild code appear!) - Viny featured

#*Causing Chaos* - Dylan/Noobin/Gust mentioned

#"The kids are here!" - Dylan/Noobin/ Gust featured

#"I wonder where are they..." - other characters mentioned

#"There you are." - Other characters featured

#<OOC TIME!!!> - OOC/Normal posts

#<If only it didn't happen...> - Backstory Posts

#<Back to Game!> - Story posts

[Note: Some tags are the posters reaction]

[team5ds]

where demons play

Summary: this was not supposed to be her job. her job is to be rescued. that's what all the myths say.

Rating: T

Ships: Link/Zelda

Author’s note: written for @sapphic-september with the prompt of "possessed". based on the echoes of wisdom trailer. contains no references to ANY leaks.

read on ao3 / support me on kofi (battle city & up supporters get early access) / join my discord (18+)

This wasn't supposed to be her job. This was her brave swordswoman's job. She read the legends back and forth - always the princess was hands off. She stayed in the castle or was trapped or otherwise occupied while the swordswoman of legend battled her way through tests of strength and wit, testing the balance between the Triforce in her as she clawed her way to the princess. Instead, Zelda was the one being tested. Was she a failure of a princess? Was she being punished for something? She didn't know, and she didn't want to think about that. Right now, Link was in danger. Her father was in danger. The entire country was in danger. She needed to have courage in the face of this, and she needed to prove her own balance in the Trifocre. That's what a hero is supposed to - have a balance of courage, power, and wisdom.

She'd cried enough over the fate of the kingdom that was now squarely in her hands. When she was thrown into the dungeon, she recalled the story of how the hero would often be painted as a villain by Ganondorf's forces. She didn't believe it until her own knights had turned against her, accusing her of being the reason why her father was taken. For a moment, she almost believed them.

Now she stood at the end of a long dungeon, having battled her way to the heart of it. She was battered, bruised, and she was near exhausted. When she saw the back of Link, her heart started to race. She was going to be fine. Except... something didn't seem quite right. "Link," she said, unbuckling her cloak. She could finally give it back to her. "I've kept... Link?" She felt unsettled the more steps she took into the chamber. And then Link turned to face her - and the sheer hatred in her eyes nearly knocked Zelda back. Still, she tried to reach her anyway. "Link?"

Link unsheathed her sword, and leaped forward. Instead of connecting with Zelda, her sword connected with a bed that Tri had summoned for her. "Princess, I do not think this is the Link you knew," the fairy advised as Link yanked back the sword. Her stomach lurched as it finally sunk in that Link had been trying to kill her. Her swordswoman of legend had attacked her - and even though she never connected an attack, it felt worse than if she'd actually been stabbed. "I suggest you fight for your life."

Zelda took a step back, shaking her head. "I need to get through to her," she argued, stopping yet another attack. "She has to be in there somewhere. Link, please, listen to me!"

The fight had begun, and what scared Zelda the most was that she didn't know how it was going to end. She couldn't bear the idea of her swordswoman dead in this chamber, and with every echo she threw Link's way, she cut through it like it was a minor annoyance. Link was courageous, relentless, and smart - all of which was now squarely targeted towards her. She could swear she heard Ganondorf's laughter rumbling through the chamber as she played defense, attempting for any sign of Link returning back to her.

[haveihitanerve]

Home

Kaz Brekker stood in his small, cramped attic room, and stared out the window. Fat drops of rain pelted the glass and Kaz lips twitched as he watched a few last minute shoppers rush home through the downpour they were facing. His ungloved hands were clasped in front of him, but they dropped to dangle at his sides instead when he heard the door creak. “Hello Inej.” He said, his voice hardly louder than a whisper. She had wanted him to be aware of his arrival, for while the door had creaked, no other sound was made until she stood at his side, her slender fingers sliding into his. Kaz squeezed them, marveling at her soft hands, and the fact that he could do this. Hold the hand of the woman he loved without freezing up, or shaking, or having violent flashbacks. She had broken his fear/hate/dislike/trauma of touch slowly, recruiting Jesper for help, since the two of them had known him the longest and were closest to him, so their touch was known. It still made Kazs heart twist a little, in fondness and affection, when he thought of how ready the two had been to help him overcome this. The thought that they still cared for him, despite all he had done, despite who he was, and how he had treated them. Albeit there own selfish reasons for wanting to break his hatred of touch. They had gone slow, and Kaz was grateful, though he knew they were both eager. Despite her years at the menagerie, Inej’s love language was touch, and Jesper had grown up in a very affectionate household. But they had always been good about it.

Inej had never touched him except maybe to brush against his side in passing, or a light hand on the shoulder. And Jesper had refrained from hugging him, or slapping him on the back, or ruffling his hair the way he was prone to doing with other Crows. Instead Jesper had always kept his hands to himself, knocking their shoulders together in silent comradery, offering a fist bump in place of a hug. It had never been intended to break his dislike of touch, but now it had turned into it. Inej would slide up behind him and press herself against his back for a second, longer each time, before pulling away again, never staying long enough to suffocate him. She would trace patterns across his chest and shoulders and brows, fingertips trailing lightly across his skin. She would brush their fingers together, maybe hook one or two, but never for too long. Never too much. Jesper increased his shoulder bumping activities, and sometimes would even venture to drape his arm around Kaz’s shoulders for a quick second before pulling away again. When Kaz would sit down, Jesper would sit next to him and grab his legs so they slung over his lap, playing drums on his good knee. As time had worn on, Kaz had found himself enjoying the simple touches, and on occasion he would even miss them, or seek them out. The two Crows had never pushed, and somehow also knew how much Kaz was able to handle without he even knowing himself. Apparently today was a good day, because Inej slid her whole hand inside of his, entwining their fingers together. Kaz let his thumb circle lightly on her knuckles, and she rested her head on his shoulder. “Hello Kaz.” she whispered. “Hello Jesper!” Came the call from the door as it was kicked open and Jesper strolled in. He grinned at them both, joining them at the window and draping an around around Kaz’s shoulders. Kaz rolled his eyes. His room had always been a safe haven, a place he could get away from everyone, but somehow that everyone no longer applied to the Six of Crows. Not that Kaz could say the definition of his room had changed. “Its a beauty aint it?” Jesper asked with a pleased sigh, leaning his head against Kaz’s. “What is?” Kaz asked in mild annoyance, leaning his head away only to knock it back harder. Jesper snorted, rubbing his head before placing it right back where it had started. Kaz grumbled. “Our city.” He pointed at the window. “Ain't she gorgeous?” he breathed in reverent awe. “You got the best view of her Kaz. Thats for sure.” Inej hummed her agreement but Kaz frowned, trying to see the city the way they did. As a place of beauty. And maybe it was the fact that he was holding Inejs hand without his gloves. Or maybe it was the fact that despite his attempted annoyance at Jesper, he was really enjoying the way his arm wrapped around his shoulders. Or maybe it was his throbbing head from knocking too hard into Jespers, but whatever the reason, it was as though Kaz truly was seeing the city through new eyes. “Yes.” he breathed, blinking a few times in surprise. “She really is.”

[tealmaskmybeloved]

Some headcanons for Toxic Consequences AU that I'm throwing out here:

1. Dokutaro and Okidogi have the strongest bond out of the Loyal 3 since Okidogi was the first one to be helped by Dokutaro. (In fact, Okidogi is considered to almost be a friend to the peach guy)

2. The Loyal 3's hidden abilities were their abilities before they met Dokutaro and got the Toxic Chain.

3. Okidogi's old ability was Guard Dog. It has the Pokémon's attack boost by 1 stage instead of lowered when hit with Intimdate. It also prevents the user from switching out from moves like Roar. I imagined Okidogi to basically not back down or flee from a battle, no matter how strong the opponent is.

4. Munkidori's old ability was Frisk. It lets the user check the opponent's Pokémon held item. Because of that, I like to think Munkidori was some kind of scout or watchman before meeting Dokutaro.

5. Fezandipiti's old ability was Technician. It increases the power of moves that are usually 60 base power or below by 50%. I like to imagine that Fezandipiti would always try boosting its appearance before meeting Dokutaro.

6. While Munkidori and Fezandipiti were unidentified Pokémon before getting the Toxic Chain, Fezandipiti was an Unfezant. (It also explains his undying hatred towards them in my AU)

7. Fezandipiti is trans (ftm) because I say so.

8. Fezandipiti can also captivate and somewhat manipulate people with its pheromones. This isn't as strong as flat out mind control, but it makes for a great backup.

9. Okidogi carries Kieran around sometimes, and also if Kieran needs to reach higher places.

10. Dokutaro chills in Kieran's backpack while he's at school. Drayton always points this out much to Kieran's annoyance.

11. There's multiple of Ogerpon's species, and they're all based on different fruits! (Except peaches)

12. Somewhat related, there's different kinds of Pecharunts! Except they're based on the different status effects (burn, frozen, paralyzed, asleep), and they're all Ghost type!

13. Like Dokutaro, the other Runts can all bind other Pokémon and people to their will, but most of them are friendly and do it as a sign of friendship, not control.

14. Ogerpon didn't know that Dokutaro was the plush at Peachy's. (In my au, she'd only really got a glimpse of Dokutaro and wasn't able to kick his ass)

15. Ogerpon's horns change shape depending on the mask she's wearing.

16. Kieran's favorite snacks are mochi and chocolate. He also enjoys popcorn from time to time (NOT KETTLECORN THAT THING IS AN ABOMINATION TO LIFE ITSELF /j)

17. The Toxic Chains have Dokutaro's poison inside them, and if they were the break, the poison would spill out.

18. Also the Toxic Chains taste sweet but with a disgusting aftertaste. (do not try this at home kids)

Anyways, let me know what you think! Feel free to ask questions etc.

[sereonhardware]

What does all Odin's kids think of him? or if you want what does all the Aesir gods think of Odin do they like respect him or do they hate him for some of the stuff he does

For now, I’ll just write his kids opinion on him. I will probably reblog this answer again with the rest though so weee

Fair warning, I did reduce his kid list down to only 5 (Thor, Baldr, Hodr, Vidar and Vále) who are all biological children of Odin and Frigg because I an’t writing Allat but also because Odin’s children list can be really confusing (Characters who were Odin’s kids in the myths are turned into separate people, Meili for example is Frigg’s half brother)

Thor —

Thor respects his father and loves him dearly, jokes around with him and treats him like his dad. He questions his dad’s choices but never really outright says it, he sees Odin’s burden and tries his best to do his job the best he can so Odin doesn’t need to have another burden to worry about (Among other things…)

Baldr —

(BEFORE RAGNORAK) I think Baldr loves his dad dearly but he’s more of a mamas boy than anything. Odin occasionally peer pressures him into agreeing to stuff and so he’s a bit weary, never outright says how he feels because of insecurity and fear of making his dad upset. He never really saw the extent of the hurt his dad did until he died and became friends with Hel; He started questioning his dad’s choices and decisions, more open about his disappointment with his father.

(POST RAGNORAK) Doesn’t enjoy thinking or talking about his father. Since he’s more open about how he feels, he can express disappointment and frustration with his father’s choices and tries his best to rewrite the wrong’s Odin did. He doesn’t hate Odin (He can’t hate anyone really) but he does think Odin could’ve been better and expresses disappointment and dislike.

Hodr —

(BEFORE RAGNORAK) Mostly neutral about his father, he was always failed by the people around him so he always had a dislike of everyone except for Nanna and Baldr, that dislike was saved for Odin too but he still had hope since he was his dad. Became severely depressed and damaged after he got killed by his father thinking that he was the reason that everything went wrong and the world is gonna go to shit cuz of him but later felt confident enough to strongly express anger at Odin’s actions

(POST RAGNAROK) Hates Odin with an iron will, never says much of his anger past, “Oh yeah, father.” (Spoken through gritted teeth) but just like Baldr, tries his best to rewrite the wrongs that Odin did.

Vidar —

(BEFORE RAGNAROK) Probably the most distant and rebellious of the Odinssons. Vidar never actively had a strong opinion about Odin but he always had a distant attitude with him and never expressed his concerns out of annoyance with his dad. He considered Tyr to be more of his dad than anything and was pissed after the Fenrir incident, he was bitter and tried very hard to avoid even being in the same room as Odin after the fact.

(POST RAGNAROK) Shamelessly declares absolute hatred of Odin, would absolutely desecrate his grave with no remorse or respect. Vidar’s complications with Ragnarok and afterwards(It warrants a whole thread with what he went through) left him mostly wanting to revive his dad only to choke him out again.

Vále —

(BEFORE RAGNAROK) Vále was a misguided and mistreated child and very abused at the hands of Odin. Odin wanted to love Vále but just couldn’t so Vále was treated as more of a weapon and wild animal than a child. Vále believed Odin to be a trustworthy adult and always followed his orders, mistaking Odin’s orders for love.

(POST RAGNAROK) On the same boat as Vidar, he desperately wishes he could’ve had a childhood that had actual love in it and relishes in the fact that Odin is dead. He prides himself knowing he can atleast know he’s a person now instead of Odin’s weaponized pet thing

[norwigianbluefairy]

A Court Of Fire and Earth - Chapter Two.

Staring at the amber eyed male standing directly across from her, Aurora could do little but blink in pure shock. Out of all the things he could have asked of her, she never in a million years expected him to ask for anything like this.

"I beg your pardon?"

Shifting slightly on his feet as if her stare made him somewhat uneasy, Eris Vanserra reached to pluck a flower from the bouquet; choosing a golden-yellow daisy, which he twirled between his fingers, studying it for half a heartbeat before his eyes flickered back to hers.

"Come with me to the Gathering."

Placing a hand on the table for support, Aurora let out a soft laugh of disbelief. She had, of course, heard mumbles of the Gathering from the workers and farmers that visited the mansion from time to time with supplies.

All the high lords and human kings, lords, and important people gathered in one place to discuss and update the treaty since the wall fell seven years ago.

Aurora herself had never taken much interest in the politics of the courts or the human lands beyond their borders, nor had she ever been allowed to take part in anything of importance.

"Why would I?"

Amber eyes narrowing ever so slightly at the challenge in her voice, it seemed the male was otherwise completely unfrazzled by her responds except for the small smile that was now slowly curling his lips upwards as he drawled at her like a lazy feline stretching in the morning sun.

"Because I asked nicely?" 

"So you expect me to just pack up my stuff and leave with you, a stranger, just because you asked me nicely?"

"Yes."

His blunt responds made the female clenching her teeth in annoyance, however, she chose not to react. Her instinct was to snap back at him, to return his attitude with her own, but that wouldn't get her anywhere. So instead she let out a annoyed sigh, gently rubbing the spot between her eyes.

"How in the world is me going to this meeting possibly going to serve any of you?"

"Because you are my wife, and..."

Eris paused briefly as Aurora choked on air at the mention of her attachment to the Autumn heir, coughing rather dramaticlly. Pretending he didn't take notice of her reaction, Eris simply continued.

"... and father demands your presence."

Sapphire blue eyes narrowing dangerously to slits of sharded diamonds that twinkled in the sunlight streaming through the windows above the main entrance, Aurora quickly regained her composure.

She did not like the sound of this. Her mouth felt dry, and the warm energy that slithered just beneath her skin began to stir, reacting to the sharp stab of fear that now echoed through the hollow of her bones.

"Your father, or mine? 

The years of hiding her fear came to good use as she did little to hide the pure disgust from her voice; hearing how it practically dripped from her lips like venom, the word father stumbled over her tongue; the concept in itself was completely foreign to her, so she didn't have to fake that part.

Hopefully, the male couldn't scent her fear from where he stood, that would have been really embarrassing.

~~~

There was enough hatred in her voice to make him pause to stare at her for half a second, quickly realizing several things. 

One, she held no affection for her father. 

Two, she wasn't particularly pleased that she had been summoned like a dog. Because that was exactly what Lord Hallewell had done. Even his own father had given the Lord a long glance at the way he had refused to even mention her name, simply referring to her as "the child".

And three, the female was very likely stab him if he attempted to bring her along by brute force.

So deciding that his life was far too precious to him to tempt fate by acting recklessly, Eris suddenly found himself thankful for the table between them as he drawled.

"Both."

Something dark and vicious slithered through those mesmerizing blue eyes, but it was gone as quickly as it appeared, leaving him unsure if he actually saw it or simply imagined it.

"So I am to be presented as a pretty ornament to further boost the power and appearance of a court that don't even know my name?"

Eris found himself admiring her feistiness. He had been told enough times that he had an intimidating and intense presence. All his life, even before he'd earned his reputation, people had been wary of him, and as a child, this had irritated him. However, it had become so normal for him through the centuries that her fire felt like a breath of fresh air he didn't know he needed.

He knew that his eyes had shamlessly roamed over her body as she spoke, taking in the female's rather mouthwatering curves and lean yet soft muscles that sleakly wrapped over a delicate bone structure that gave him all kinds of dirty fantasies, before eventually returning their attention to her mouth as they had countless times since he entered the mansion.

He couldn't quite help himself. Plush, carnal, and soft lips that currently pealed back to reveal a perfectly pearly set of teeth, the elongated canines adorning her upper jaw snatched him out of his thoughts, his eyes shooting up to meet hers.

And as she met his stare boldly, it occurred to him that it was very possible that he had found someone who could outstare him.

"Not exactly how they phrased it, but yes that is the general impression I got from the conversation."

Chewing on her lower lip, which was so distracting that Eris almost reached across the table to gently tug the silken flesh free from her teeth, unholyly tempted to sink his own teeth into them as he was sure they would not only feel amazing but taste just as sweet, the male almost sagged in relief as she eventually turned to her maid, mumbling a few things that escaped him, but if the other female's expression was anything to go by, Aurora had come to the same conclusion as he had on the way over here.

Fighting the pull of the higher ranking royals of the Autumn Court was pointless, as they would drag her out by her hair if she didn't agree to go with him today.

He didn't like how well-versed she appeared to be in the brutality of his court, as if she somehow had been exposed to it, but there was little he could do to change that if that had been the case. He could, however, do his best to prevent it from happening again while he was around, which he realized then and there would be quite often, as staying away after this would no longer an option. 

After a few words exchanged with the maid, the female turned back to face him, her tan complexion slightly paler than earlier, the flush in her cheeks gone, replaced by shadows of what lay may ahead.

"I shall accompany you to the Gathering. However, do not get any ideas. I purely agree to this out of self preservation.."

Something in her eyes told him that she understood more than she said. Understood some of the danger not only to her but to him as well if she didn't agree.

Gathering the hem of her skirt in hand, Aurora rounded the table that had worked as a barrier between them up until now, and it was only as she came close enough for him to count the strands of gold falling in warm waves down over her collarbone that he realized how small she actually was in contrast to himself. She barely stood tall enough to reach his shoulders, which, for some unexplainable reason, he found beyond adorable.

Instintively, Eris inhaled deeply as she came near, realizing too late that doing so had been a big mistake. Fuck.

The sweet scent of wildflowers, sweet honey, peaches, and apple blossom slammed into his system and shot straight to his already hard cock. 

It was an effort not to growl in arousal as he went to follow her, those sun- golden curls bounching against the emerald fabric of her dress as she elegantly made her way down the path leading up to the house.