#fantasy noises and perfect delusions

[patchworkmirage]

yeah

[worldlxvlys]

one choice

part 6 of the CRUSH series

bsf! matt sturniolo x reader

warnings: angst, mentions of sex, cursing

a/n -> hope u like <33

read the previous part for context !!

MATT’S POV

when my eyes fluttered open, i was immediately met with a pillow that wasn’t mine. i knew this pillow though, and those sheets.

i had forgotten where i was momentarily, until i looked over and saw her. her eyes were closed, lips parted slightly while she slept peacefully.

she looked angelic, the soft rays of the sun seeming to make her glow. she moved around in her sleep last night, leaving her barely covered by her blanket.

i couldn’t help but let my eyes wander her body, taking in every feature. her smooth skin was littered with dark marks all over, and the blanket left little to the imagination. before i knew it, i was hard again.

it took everything in me to fight the urge i had to take care of it right there next to her. what would she think if she woke up to me jerking myself off to her sleeping form?

oh my god, what was gonna happen when she woke up? she would want to talk about what this meant for us, but i couldn’t handle that.

what if this was a one time thing? what if she wanted nothing to do with me after this ? did i fuck up our friendship? i had to get out of there.

i got up quickly and quietly, careful not to make any noise while i got dressed. when i was done, i pulled her blanket over her so she was fully covered. i looked around for a pen and paper to leave her a note, as i didn’t want her to get the wrong idea.

ok, she has nothing to write a note with. i’ll just leave her a text.

well i could have done that, if i had realized i completely forgot my phone in her room before i left. i didn’t make this realization, however, until i had gotten back home.

so not only did she think i was the type of guy to fuck and dip, but i also couldn’t avoid the conversation that i was running from in the first place.

it’s not that i never wanted to talk about it, i just wasn’t ready for our friendship to change yet.

was running away the best way to handle the situation? definitely not, but i only had so much time to decide what to do before she woke up.

so basically, my overthinking ended up screwing me over. doesn’t it always ?

what was wrong with me? this was the girl who made me feel safe and loved, and now i couldn’t even talk to her. how did i manage to fuck up this badly?

one choice. one choice stemming from my fantasy-filled thoughts is all it took. and the decision i made last night led to more poorly made choices. choices that i wouldn’t have made had my brain not been corrupted by her.

her face, her smell, those perfect little moans that fell off her lips, she had a way of making me ignore every logical thought that my brain produced. i was so desperate to finally have her in the way i’d only dreamed about for years.

now if i didn’t fix this, i wouldn’t have her in any way.

———

READER’S POV

when i woke up, matt was gone. the spot where he had slept next to me was cold, meaning he hadn’t been there for a while.

for a second, i questioned whether last night was even real. had i really fallen so deep into my delusions that i started to believe them? i found the thought to be worrisome, but i tried not to dwell on it as i got up and made my way to the bathroom.

when i caught a glimpse of the hickeys decorating my skin i felt relief wash over me. i wasn’t going crazy. just as quickly as it came, the relief was replaced with a new feeling; embarrassment.

i seriously let myself think that he would want something more. hell, he marked me like he did. but he didn’t treat me like i was his best friend, he treated me like i was a one night stand.

maybe he had a valid reason for leaving. i tried to talk myself out of the rabbit hole of assumptions i was about to go down, and picked up my phone.

once a few hours had passed without him returning my texts or calls, i knew. he was done with me, he had to be. why else would he just leave without warning and ghost me?

i should’ve know this was going to happen, people always leave me in the end. it just never occurred to me that matt could be just like everyone else.

——

MATT’S POV

when i got to her house, i let myself in using the key she had given me. “y/n?” i called her name, not receiving an answer.

i pulled out the ice cream i had bought her on the way to her place, putting it in the freezer for her.

when i got to her room, she happened to be fresh out of the shower. she wore nothing but a towel, her eyes widening when she saw me.

“matt?” she asked before rushing over to me, pulling me into a tight hug. the water droplets that coated her skin soaked into my t-shirt, but all i could focus on was the fact that she was in my arms.

i inhaled the scent of her fruity body wash, eyes falling shut as i rubbed her back soothingly.

she then pulled away, smacking me upside the head with her heavy hand. “don’t do that again matt, i thought i scared you off. i thought you hated me- i thought i lost my best friend”

i cupped her cheek gently, “i could never hate you, and i’m not going anywhere. i was just overwhelmed, but i shouldn’t have just left life that. i’m sorry, i was gonna leave a note, but then i couldn’t find anything to write with. and i was gonna text you but i left my phone here and-”

“matt, it’s ok. i’m just glad that you’re here now” she whispered. “but there’s nothing to be scared of, i mean- last night was just the heat of the moment, right? i mean, it had to be, why else would you leave like that” she whispered the last part to herself.

shit. this was the problem, i didn’t know what the night before was.

i didn’t know what i wanted, and i didn’t want to hurt her in the process of figuring it out. what i did know, was i wasn’t going to lose her because i got greedy. so, i decided i would figure it out later, but for now: “yeah, that’s all it was”

“so, we’re good?” she asked. “we’re good” i confirmed.

“good. then i’m gonna get dressed and then we can watch something?” she posed the last part of the sentence as a question.

“yeah, and i brought you ice cream” i told her, watching her face light up at the news. “wow, you thought you really messed up, huh?” she asked as she grabbed her clothes to change into.

“i did really mess up, but i won’t do anything like that again” i told her. she just smiled at that letting out a quick, “i know” before moving to go back into her bathroom.

“wait, you’re seriously going into another room to get changed? did you forget how we spent last night together?” i joked. admittedly, it was probably a little too soon to crack jokes like that.

“last night never happened” she spoke before closing the door.

shit, why did that sting a little?

masterlist

tag list: @lustfulslxt @flowerxbunnie @sturnssx @mattslolita @its-jennarose @sophssturn @bernardsleftbootycheek @queen161718 @cupidsword @imwetforyourmom @nickmillersn1gf @mattsneezing @chrisstankyleg @sturniolobltch @bethsturn @bernardenjoyer @mbbsgf @rac00ns-are-c00l4 @ssturniolo @blueeyedbesson @mxqdii @sturniolowhore @readerakayourname @defnotayonna @urmom2bitch @rootbeerworshiper @starsturniolo @hearts4chriss @theyluv-meee @carolinalikesthings @itzdarling @chrisstopherfilmed @judespoision @sstvrnioloo @littlebookworm803 @nicksdrpepper @chrisloyalgf @robins-scoop @fandomhopped @chr1sgirl4life @bbglmfao @55sturn @nickgetsmewetter @meg-sturniolo @yamamasjumpercables @vanteguccir @ineedchriscock @junnniiieee07 @breeloveschris @luverboychris

[gghostwriter]

Yours Truly, Romeo

Chapter 4 __ The Profile & The Profiler

Spencer Reid x FOC

Summary: Washington, DC - A string of grizzly murders and obsessive love letters causes Olivia and Spencer’s paths to intertwine. With a serial killer proclaiming his undying devotion to her and the thick tension surrounding her and her agent turned bodyguard, Olivia’s life is writing out like a contemporary love story that she, as a successful writer, could see herself publishing.

previous chapter || series masterlist || next chapter

"You are a lover. Borrow Cupid's wings and soar with them above the common bound." - Act 1, Scene 4. Romeo & Juliet by William Shakespeare

“We believe our unsub is a white male driving an SUV. He uses the vehicle to abduct and transport the male victims from Washington DC to Maryland,” Hotch stated in front of the members of the Washington PD.

Morgan stood next to him, hands on his hips. “His victims are between the ages 27-35 and we think the unsub is in the same age bracket.”

“Add to that, our unsub is experiencing a psychosis specifically called erotomania. This form of delusion is when an individual believes that another person, usually of a higher status, is in love with him. His weapon of choice also gives us another understanding on his psyche to these killings, using narcotics to kill symbolizes the emotional detachment the unsub has to his victims—” Spencer elaborated.

“Which means the victims were a crime of opportunity, rather than crime of passion,” Morgan injected.

“—and with his use of methanol and formaldehyde to preserve the body parts, we believe we are looking for an intelligent unsub.”

“Which is not unusual. True psychopaths often have above average intelligence.” Hotch clarified.

“This type of unsub will not have injected himself into the investigation as we often see. He will not be following the case very closely unless his fantasy to Ms. Olivia Hill is disturbed.” Morgan concluded. 

The Washington chief detective raised his pen up in the air.  “So how come he hasn’t tried to kidnap Ms. Hill rather than kidnapping all these male victims?”

“It’s because his fantasy—transformation if you will—isn’t complete yet. He’s collecting all these different body parts to fit into her perfect male partner. Once that process is complete, he will try to kidnap her next.” Spencer explained.

Morgan took a deep breath. “There is something about him that would be helpful, he has a superficial connection to Ms. Hill. Not enough for her to notice his feelings but enough for him to project his fantasy, possibly a colleague or someone she interacts with on a daily short basis like a delivery man.” 

“We suggest not to go public with this information and to re-interview female co-workers to ask if they’ve noticed any untoward or suspicious behaviors from their male co-workers to Ms Hill,” Hotch said as Morgan’s phone started to ring. “Thank you very much.” 

With his back turned to the police officers leaving the premise, he accepted the call and put it on speaker. “Prentiss, what you got?”

She sighed. “Another body has been dumped in the Potomac River, skinned from his upper thigh to feet.”

“That completes his suit,” Spencer noted.

“Forensics is currently running his fingerprints in the system to see if we have him in the database. I’ll get Garcia to forward any information she has,” she stated before ending the call. 

The two FBI agents turned around to face their stern unit chief for further instructions. “Morgan, you’re with me for the re-interview. Reid, you go back to Ms. Hill’s residence and Reid,—“

“Yes?”

“—keep us updated on any slight disturbance.” 

Spencer nodded, gathering his belongings before dashing out of the precinct. 

———

Dusk was beginning to settle when Spencer turned off the SUV ignition in front of her residence. Crossing the empty and calm street road, he took note of any rustling noise, flickering neighborhood lights—the lack thereof—and dark corners where the unsub could hide while keeping watch of the doorstep. All the curtains were shut, he observed, as if mimicking a moat bridge drawn up to protect the castle and it’s inhabitants. Steeling his nerves, he knocked on the door and announced his presence.

“Olivia, it’s Dr Spencer Reid,” He called out.

Several bolts were heard being unlocked from the other side before the door fully swung open, Olivia’s eyes darting behind his stature before widening as it settled on his form. 

“Oh, uh-hi Dr. Reid, you look—different,” her cheeks turning a rosy shade of pink as she observed his change in attire. Gone was the brown sweater vest that emphasized his lithe form and the lilac button down shirt that was once hidden underneath now had its sleeve pushed up to his forearms. With the vest out of the way and the gun holster secured on his waist visible, he looked formidable, sensual, and dangerous rolled into one. The sharp contrast to the soft spoken and intriguing male that she met this afternoon to the knight and shining armor rounding her living space had her feeling lightheaded with desire.

Spencer sat down at the worn love seat sofa located in her office. “My team is re-interviewing your female colleagues and I’d like to ask you for any strange male colleagues and interactions that rubbed you off the wrong way.” 

“I don’t really interact with any other publishing employees beside from my agent and publicist,” she sat beside him with a glass of water in hand. “One of the perks of being a writer is not having to interact with anyone beyond necessary.” 

A heavy silence covered their surroundings. Their thighs softly caressing the other, as if whispering the subconscious declaration of intrigue and attraction. Eyes flitting across the room, never meeting each other’s gaze afraid of unconsciously communicating their innermost thoughts. 

His palms opening and closing, unsure of what he needs to do and apprehensive of what he wants to do. Hers drumming on her thighs, nervous of the palpable tension around them. He wanted to touch her delicate hand, he realized—to envelope hers in his, to trace patterns on the back of her hand that will never leave a trace but wishing it would, and to never let go.

“Dr Reid, is it too forward of me to ask if you’re in a relationship?” Olivia rushed out to ask, clearly sheepish with her inquiry. 

His ears turning red at the implication behind her questioning. “My job and its urgency isn’t ideal for a relationship,” he explained. “Being on call 24/7 and not knowing when I’ll be able to return home isn’t a fair deal for a potential partner. Statistically speaking, divorcees are common in the FBI, especially in the BAU.”

“Oh, that makes sense.” 

A silence crept between them. 

“Spencer,” he clarified, noticing the little scrunch of her nose as if asking him to further clarify. “Call me Spencer.” 

She smiled, the kind so infectious that he felt his own lips curling upwards and his filter evaporating into nothing. “Did you know that women in the romance community are more likely than the general population to be currently married or living with a partner?” He articulated as his fingers tapped a rapid beat on his thigh, an outward display of nervousness. “More often than not, most writers are to be in happy relationships. The stereotype depictions of the lonely, lovesick romance writer who pens alluring novels is largely false in narrative.”

“Huh, I’ve always thought the minds behind romance would be the hopeless romantic pouring over their frustrations, hopes, and dreams into ink to escape reality and live out their fantasies,” she countered back. 

His body shifted to face hers. “That is not necessarily incorrect. Romance novels are, for the most part, written by women, about women, for women but it also allows the writers to explore who they are as a woman. Who you want to be. Finding out what you can be. Pushing yourself to be more of who you are.”

“So it’s more of self navigation and therapy?”

He nodded, pleased that his intention was understood even if he explained it in a convoluting way. “Yes, actually more like a self discovery and research.” 

“Sadly and realistically speaking, I do tend to fall on the stereotype category of being a romance writer,” she shrugged as if it was no big deal. “So Mr Genius, how’d you end up in the FBI and as a profiler?”

His eyebrows scrunched in concentration unsure to what extent he should divulge. “I was recruited and this was the path that I wanted to do.” 

“Can you profile me, then?” She smiled, leaning further into him. “I’m no criminal but I’d like to see your job in action. To see if it’s how they portrayed it in the movies, I mean.” 

She was obviously flirting, Spencer noted. He was known to be oblivious to these types of advances as Morgan pointed out, mainly rooting from his deep sense of insecurity, but she was making it clear that she felt an attraction to him or maybe he was just projecting his own emotions, he countered in his mind. After all, he didn’t have the typical male physique—muscles that allude a capability to protect and attack. His greatest asset would be his IQ of 187 that slashes into 60 whenever her set of doe-eyed eyes looks into his with such trust and comfort. His hand moved on their own accord, swiping on her lower lip that was being assaulted by her teeth.

Her breath hitched and his hand quickly dropped, a visible flush coloring his cheeks. “That was, uh, that was inappropriate of me—“

“It’s alright, Spencer.” 

“I—it’s really not. You—you asked for a profile, yes?” He brought up, desperate to diffuse the atmosphere and change the subject matter. “You’re a perfectionist based on the organization of your home. Your books are a financial success but you still use an old sedan, possibly a hand me down from your father based on the color and make, which tells me you’re frugal with your income, despite the fact that your house is located in one of the pricier neighborhoods—I believe this is your biggest purchase to date—and that you possibly grew up in a middle income family. You subconsciously tap your fingers on your thighs when you’re nervous and you keep your nails short meaning you’re other tic would be nail biting which you’re trying to break. And you mentioned that you fall under the stereotype category of being a romance writer which tells me you didn’t date much during your school years and never felt the need to go through all the usual considered landmarks of being a teenager, kissing under the bleachers and such. Perhaps you’ve had a boyfriend or two, nothing noteworthy for inspiration and romance, so you pour your hopes and dreams into the characters and scenarios you create.” 

“You missed one more important piece.”

He titled his head, thinking of what he could have possibly missed.

“You, and my apparent attraction to you. How I’d like to see you again once this situation is through,” her voice trailed off, the sudden confidence evaporating from her body. 

There was silence. His intelligent, hyper-active mind not knowing how to respond. Her confession had rendered him mindless and mute.

The lights flickered, as if wanting to escape their bodies as the space in between lessens ever so slightly, before complete darkness and danger shrouded over. 

[ethernetmeep]

inevitably, tomorrow will have a cascade of fireworks boom & whirr in the air. afterwards, throughout the entire summer, i will continue to hear these fireworks. somewhere. simply waiting. they come and go in random influxes, miscellaneous moments.

if it isn’t apparent already, i won’t be celebrating— why would i? what is there to celebrate about this flawed, fucked up country? i can remember when i used to, though. one year in particular pops up rather vividly

cannot remember the exact time frame, but i was young. six? six or seven. visited an aunt, drove all the way up there. remember getting stung by a horsefly, exclaiming i quote, “didn’t want this portuguese blood anymore!” with portuguese being exclaimed as port-ee-gee. mother says it this way, sometimes. i now realize its more so favorable blood types than exact nationalities… regardless, a memory that my mother finds humorous.

in retrospect, even then i was.. odd. off. although my mother exclaimed the other kids were simply jerks, it felt a bit more than that. recall diving in a pool to then have everyone, yes, everyone, leave afterwards. this cycle continued, never-ending, nobody wanting to be even remotely around me. i don’t take it personally now, but at the time i was immensely emotionally upset over it. remember her yellow swings & those crackling items which i can’t recall the name of. snappers? something similar. recall sticks you’d snap to get the fluorescent light really glowing. bubbles. cold.

i don’t miss her, i don’t think. i don’t really think about anyone from that day, only see them as humanoid blobs with their features crossed out. i was never close to them, never connected. a black sheep before i knew what it was.

its interesting, this feels as if it will be similar to new years although i am unsure how. the same solitude, i believe. with new years, it was (at the very least) a drunken stupor— better, at that. although fantasy, at least i was happy in my delusions. all temporary.

now, i will be alone, no unnecessary items at my disposal. i would say vices, but it was never a vice— never enjoyed alcohol, merely let myself be apart of it. i will be left with my thoughts is a better way to put it. many of my friends will be busy; if not, family activities which celebrate. a nauseating array of bold red whites & blues. barbecues… all that. i don’t wish to be apart of it

what i want, i think, is this— and i will describe it rather vividly to showcase what it is i truly desire

the set ‘golden hour’ of the day begins anew. mosquitos are flying about, yet the body itself is simply.. sitting. laying? could be doing both. sitting in a front lawn & looking at the possible clouds above. basking in the ambient noise of birdsong & wind. no other acquaintances, except for if there is. if there is, which is now leading into fantasy, i will act the same as i do in solitude. i will be quiet. we will sit & watch the clouds or sit & look at bugs. i will pluck a weed & offer it silently, or i will pluck a small flower from a hydrangea plant in our yard & offer it. it is not an act of romance; it never would be. an act of compassion despite the worlds’ cruelty. we will be silent, simply existing. in a perfect world, the yard would be adorned with dandelions & i could make my guest a flower crown. i don’t know how to do that, so i won’t. i won’t do much of anything. i will offer to sit & watch birds fly at bird feeders & try to showcase the beauty there is to see in the world. if i do speak, it will be something small— a simple “thank you for spending time with me” is enough.

of course, mere delusion. like i said, most friends will be busy, some not but being simply unable to be apart of this. i love some of my friends to death, but they cannot be silent like this for the life of them. my childhood friend, appreciate him dearly, cannot participate in this. he will presumably be bored & want to talk or spend most of the time showing me funny me-mes (spelt that way specifically). the beauty will be clouded by a rift which i dislike admitting. this is fine, but it simply shows we are different people. different at different times, more so. it is simply unlikely to occur, is all im saying

despite its uncommon chances, i do hope it can happen. someday.

for now, i can only presume the day will be like any other— i won’t even see it as a holiday. its funny, i didn’t even know fathers day was fathers day— nor easter, or whatever it is thats celebrated. i don’t pay attention to most holidays.

ah, i can only wish my friends & acquaintances alike well. you too, dear reader. stay safe, you all.

[kithtaehyung]

Jett is good at a lot of things, but words isn‘t one of them, so don’t expect this long of a response from me ever again. But I have a lot of thoughts that I‘ve been holding onto since I started reading 3tan, and I was waiting for the proverbial "right time" to say them. I guess now feels right.

Fanfiction in and of itself is an unrealistic genre, but even so, I feel like a lot of writers lose themselves in the dramatic delusions and fantasy of the genre. I’ve been reading and writing fanfics avidly since I was maybe 10 years old (I‘m 22 now, so safe to say it’s been a while), and what I always despised about the things I’ve read is how unhinged and unrealistic it is. They painted a skewed image of what relationships should look like, what healthy friendships and intimacy should look like, and I know a lot of people who don’t have experience outside of fanfics adopt these views as their own.

Which brings me to my point of why I hold you, and three tangerines to such a high regard: it’s so real. It’s so blatantly obvious that you understand who Yoongi is at his core, and even though he still has a slightly altered personality for the sake of the AU, it’s still *him*. The fact that we can see his insecurities and his tumultuous inner monologue and he’s not just hot hunky perfect man for the sake of a fanfic is what I love, because it shows your understanding. That, and Y/N isn’t just a spiraling damsel in distress for the love interest to come and sweep all her problems away. She’s her own person, she has layers and a complex personality, she has friendships and a job outside of Yoongi, she‘s honestly the realest OC I’ve seen ever.

And then there’s their actual relationship. Their communication and lack thereof. It’s not perfect, and that’s beautiful, because it’s not supposed to be. What really caught my attention the most was how you write the sex scenes, because again, with fanfic it’s so easy to get carried away in the fantasy and making everything seem perfect, but you write in the teeth bumping into each other, the uncomfortable noises, the cleaning up afterwards, the awkward pause waiting for a condom to be put on, all these things that aren’t necessarily "perfect," but it makes it so much more real. I think it goes so far beyond making it more enjoyable for me, but I think you’re part of a bigger change to setting a healthy standard for what relationships and sex should actually look like. Before 3tan, I had never read anyone asking for consent in a fanfic. I never read about having to switch positions to be more comfortable. I never read about such an open line of communication right in the middle of sex, and it’s a shame I’m only seeing it now. I hope more people take notes from you, because you truly should be the standard that people strive to be.

Last thing, I love that despite the length of your chapters/parts, it’s not wordy. It’s not boring. It’s not long just for the sake of being long. Every word is purposeful. As a writer, that’s something I struggle with so much, so it’s really nice to see lengthy chapters done right.

You deserve the break. You deserve all the love. You deserve it all.

jett, you are wonderful, powerful, and so, so lovely. you are a writer and you certainly do have a way with words bc my god you made me BAWL when i read this the first time. i honestly don't know what to say to this. but i will try my best.

to start, i'll say this: thank you for touching on the aspect of three tangerines being real. because my point from the start was to make it as relatable and comforting as it is spicy, but of course a year later it has turned into more than that. more than i ever imagined and will continue to be part of my life no matter what.

i'm really happy you also like this yoongi. whether he's really like the real yoongi or not, i don't know for sure. but i do know that he brings me peace and comfort to write and there's a connection i feel whenever i work on this series. and i know he's not perfect, because i don't want him to be. none of my characters are flawless and i've set that point for my fics from the very beginning. everyone is just gonna be human, with all the good and bad that comes with it. same thing goes for reader. not perfect, just genuine. real. complex, like we are.

along with people, i know relationships aren't perfect, either. so that's what i wanted to also showcase here, too. but you're right: that's what makes this magical - the push and pull, the dancing, the tension, the imperfection. the sex, too. it's all about keeping this as real and organic and human as possible.

"I think it goes so far beyond making it more enjoyable for me, but I think you’re part of a bigger change to setting a healthy standard for what relationships and sex should actually look like. Before 3tan, I had never read anyone asking for consent in a fanfic. I never read about having to switch positions to be more comfortable. I never read about such an open line of communication right in the middle of sex, and it’s a shame I’m only seeing it now. I hope more people take notes from you, because you truly should be the standard that people strive to be."

i genuinely don't have words for this. you've rendered me speechless here and i feel.. idk, like i accomplished something above what i wanted to and just feel like crying. because this is meant to be a comfort series, since the beginning. that all of this is what you should look for. it's all normal and fine and okay.

thank you so much for all of this. i'm just sitting here not really knowing what to say and all of this response probably didn't make sense because i was typing with blurry vision but. yeah. thank you for telling me this. it's thoughtful as hell and i can only hope i keep this standard.

i shall make the most of my break, babe. my brain does need to rest and i will give it what it needs<3

[rukasudark]

Deathbrain - fantasy noises & perfect delusions

[sanddcontainerr]

She did not respond normally. Time to cope! I'm gonna smoke weed and listen to this album I found a couple minutes ago. Fantasy Noises and Perfect Delusions by Deathbrain

[strawwritesfic]

Voldemort x Female!Death Eater!Reader: Eyes

Summary: You would do anything to have those eyes look upon you with desire again.

Rating/Warnings/Tags: T (Reader is an unrepentant fantasy racist; Reader is certifiably insane; Azakaban Prisoner!Reader; fantasy slurs; set during Order of the Phoenix; one-sided!Bellatrix/Voldemort; Malfoy Manor)

Challenge: "115 Words" challenge by BonitaWolfSpirit on Lunaesence Archives.

Tag List: @imaginesfire

Eyes

Azkaban was inarguably the loneliest place on earth. Out in the middle of the ocean, there was no escape once one was locked inside. Cells kept prisoners far away from all the others, save for the endless screams that still erupted from the fresher meat. Dementors prowled the walls to sap the will to live from every damned soul within them. It was a perfect storm of isolation…but none of that was what made Azkaban hell on earth for you.

For just under fourteen years you rotted there. Your greatest mistakes in life paraded again and again through your head. Of them all, of course, you regretted most not being present. It should have been his greatest moment of triumph. Instead, it had twisted into his downfall, and you had not been present. He died so far from your embrace.

Bellatrix spent a lot of time shrieking that he wasn’t dead at first. She was there because she believed. She would one day receive the honor accorded to her faith. She would be valued above all.

You comforted yourself in knowing you did not suffer because of delusions. Azakaban held you because you had no regrets.

You should have listened to her. Now you felt some regret.

Freedom felt strange after so long with no one to speak to—not that there had been much talking done during or after the breakout either. Even the air felt different back on the mainland, and the lights just a little too bright. Hours had passed and still you did not quite understand why things had changed. The dementors had revolted, that much you knew, but why and how you’d arrived at Malfoy Manor afterward, you did not.

Alone you stood outside the ballroom. One of your old guards floated nearby, but appeared to desire your emotions no longer. Or maybe it simply did not desire what you felt just then. Whatever it was, you could not name it. The rest of the Death Eaters locked up with you had long since disappeared inside that same room. Narcissa had not wasted any breath explaining why only you must wait outside. That gave you the first flash of hope you’d experienced in years, and more fear than you’d felt during those years as well.

The doors beside you opened. Your heart launched itself into your throat.

“Enter,” hissed a high-pitched voice.

That you did. The room beyond was dim, lit only by candlelight flickering in snake-shaped brackets down the walls. All along your path stood motionless figures in familiar hoods and masks. You probably could have named them all, but you spared them no further attention. A man sat on a high-backed chair against the opposite wall, and you had eyes for none but him.

You threw yourself onto the floor when you were only a few away. “M-My lord,” you croaked. It had not taken long for you to stop your screaming in Azkaban, and your voice was rusted from lack of use. Hopefully this would not anger him, nor the tattered rags that had passed for your clothing since his disappearance.

“Rise, [Name].”

Despite your trembling, you did as you were commanded. Slowly, you lifted your head until you could fill your eyes with him. Him. Your lord. Back from the dead. He raised one pale hand without a word, and you approached to take it. The long, beautiful fingers were just as you remembered them. Tears dropped onto his flesh as you kissed the back of his hand repeatedly. You wept. He lived, and he had rescued you from an eternity without him.

When he pulled away from you, you could not help the noise of protest that came from your mouth. You wanted nothing more than to cling to him, to explore every inch of his resurrected body. Undoubtedly Bellatrix had already tried. But though what remained of your soul cried out to be close to him, you said nothing more and remained exactly where he had left you.

“I see that you did not believe that my return was possible,” he said.

A sensation like that of brushing past a stunning spell ran all the way up your spine. You knew that you could not lie. He would know. He always knew.

“I was foolish,” you answered.

He did not argue the point. “And when you felt your Mark burn last June?”

“I—I thought it a dream. It’s happened before. The dementors, they get inside your head, they give you what you want only to tear it away from you again. If—If I had known—!”

“You would have come to my side at once?”

“Yes,” you breathed.

“You would have left Azkaban? You? With no wand and no reason to believe it was truly me?”

“Yes. Anything. Anything, my lord, to repent of my lack of belief.”

“Then you will have your chance now.”

“My lord!”

One of the watching Death Eaters broke rank. They pulled their mask away, and you were not surprised to see that it was Bellatrix striding up to you. Azakaban would not have improved her behavior. Her husband, however, remained in his place.

“My lord,” she said again. “Surely you do not mean to forgive this woman!”

Both of you glared at each other. Bellatrix had never liked nor respected you. She was right, though. Forgiveness was the last thing you deserved. Your master regarded her in silence for nearly a minute as he twirled his wand idly in one hand.

“You dare to instruct me on what I may or may not do with my followers?” he asked.

Most of those watching would know better than to argue when he used that tone. Bellatrix did not. “She did not believe! Your loyal followers went to Azkaban because we tried to find you. We alone desired your return. She went quietly when the Ministry came calling. Why should you forgive weakness such as that?”

The weight of her accusations bore down upon you so that keeping your head up became nearly impossible. His beautiful red eyes slid to your face, causing you to hold your breath. There was nothing left now but to throw yourself upon his mercy. At least if there was none, you would die by his hand and not that of the filthy Ministry or Order—or, worse, Bellatrix’s.

“She does not lie,” he told you. It was not a question.

“No, my lord.”

“Why would you allow yourself to be led away like some mudblood to the slaughter?”

You swallowed. “I am not proud of what I’ve done. I only thought that it did not matter if you were gone. Alive or dead, I remained loyal to you. I would not denounce your name, nor the acts I did at your command. To spend the rest of my life in prison would be infinitely better than to spend it among those that celebrated your demise.”

Silence rang in the ballroom. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Bellatrix’s mouth twist into a sneer. And why should she not smile? Your excuses sounded weak to your own ears; you could not imagine what they sounded like to him. Still you stood straight as you waited for that final flash of green, or the pain that you so rightly deserved.

“I trust you will not doubt me again,” was all he said.

You fell to the floor for a second time. “No, my lord. Never, my lord. I only wish to serve you from now on, to make reparations—”

He rose, cutting you off. You sat up to see him looking down at you. Though he did not speak, you knew what he wanted, and climbed to your feet once more.

“You will come with me. We have much to discuss. Lucius,” another cloaked figure stepped out of line, “show us to my quarters. And Bella…”

She said nothing.

“Do not think to question my actions ever again. Next time I will not be so merciful.”

Her stark white, angry expression would not leave your memory. You could hardly avoid smirking at her in your turn. Luckily, there was not much time for your expression to linger, as Lucius left to lead the way and you had to scurry after him to keep pace with your master. You’d been away from him for far too long, and that you would always regret. Now that you were back, you intended to stay right where he wanted you as long as he wanted you there. If ever you returned to Azkaban’s lonely vigil, you would not have to watch the same mistake as before replay every night in your dreams.

[yandere-mc-yt]

y’ALL TRYNNA MAKE ME SIN 😩😩😩 I just wanna ask you to write out that prompt with psychic darling, techno and chat soooooo bad because it looks so rndmdjskdjdj 🤌🏾 ✨perfect✨ kdndkdkdkdjdjdjd not me having a brainrot 💀☠️☠️☠️☠️☠️

It's okay! Lets have brainrot together! Also I hope Techno isn't too ooc, I just think he'd be really repressed and awkward in these kind of situations lmao.

Thermae

Technoblade & Mind Reader GN!Reader

Warnings: Yandere Themes, obsessiveness, delusions mentioned, disassociation(?), kidnapping mentioned, Stockholm syndrome implied, animalistic behavior, NSFW, dubcon, size difference, unsafe sex, rough sex, mild painful sex, body worship implied, praise kink, retracted consent, ruined orgasm(?), humiliation kink(?), sex with an audience(?), ooc(?), idk canon inaccuracies probably, gn!deader

♡▪︎♡▪︎♡▪︎♡▪︎♡▪︎♡▪︎♡▪︎♡

pretty!!

EEE E E

shut the hell up some of us want to hear techno think

lovenoblade? technolover? FUCK what are we calling him when he stares at them like that??

shut uuuup

You don't look up from pile of clean clothes you're sifting through, trying to pick out what to wear after your bath. Technoblade staring at you from where he is by the door, not having made a move since he allowed you to enter the room. At least he isn't speaking-

You dropped some rolled up socks. It rolled under the bed and you get on your hands and knees to reach under the bed for it. Suddenly Technoblade is behind you and you yelp cutely-

Suddenly you're moaning softly and bent over on the bed. Your captor's lover's hand is on your hips and he's grinding against you. Your underwear is somehow soaked through and you're whining for Techno to take you. He swiftly tugs off your underwear and-

You look up at Technoblade, who looks back at you, acknowledging your attention. You looked cross. "Just because you're not thinking in words, doesn't mean I can't see what you think, Techno."

OOOOOO

oh noooo lmao

LOL imagine getting caught like that couldn't be us

rip

damn I wanted to see how bad this fantasy would have been

"Sorry-"

"Sorry," Techno says out loud as he takes his eyes off of you. You sigh as you toss the clothes yoy want onto the bed and stuff the rest back into the drawers. You'll fix that later if he doesn't get to it first. At least he had the gall to feel some bit of shame.

You turn your body to him and shrug. "It's whatever.... let's just go take a bath before bed."

You ignore how another brief flash of lewd thoughts and fantastical scenarios pass through his mind as you move past him towards the bathroom he had built for you. You also ignore the teasing from the Chat about how the piglin hybrid's home definently didn't have a place to bathe before and that he is a "stinky pig boy" and "stinknoblade". You didn't want to thank him but you felt like you had no choice because honestly.... he made you a custom bathroom that looked like it belonged in a palace. It had felt rude not to thank him, despite these circumstances.

You inhale the steam of the luxious looking bathroom and put your clothes down on a small side table near the massive walk in tub of hot water. You had moved over to the edge and was going to take off your shirt when the anxious boot clacking of your keeper reminded you that you were unfortunately not alone. You click your tongue back at him as you glance back at him. He looks away like he always does and you practically rip your clothes off before getting in.

He looks again when he doesn't hear the water sloshing around anymore. His expression is unreadable but you can hear what he's thinking.

"So pretty lovely looks soft smells good fuck- cute.... I wonder if you'll like the soap I got this time. Its peonies."

You hum as you sink a bit lower in the water, trying to hide your coloring cheeks.

"Yeah, I think peonies smell good." Technoblade makes a face and you have to swallow your smile. "Thanks- now get in here. I want this to be over with."

He nods mutely as he starts to undress and this time its your turn to look away. You sigh as you feel the water move and flinch when you feel his heat on your backside. He isn't even touching you yet.

ugh why is he waiting for permission again

lol whats with the gentleman act

dude they're literally already used you doing this get it over with

y'all better shut up this is like character development or something

i wanna touch they look all soft agaiiin

oooo yea!! touch them

Omgeee body worship kink??

touch them

TOUCH THEM

You let out a shaky sigh and turn around and make eye contact. He has the soap in one hand and the sponge you like in the other. You stand up in the water and exposed yourself to him. Its incredible difficult to ignore the way his pupils dialate when you're still making eye contact.

HOLY COW

isn't it too warm in here for (Y/N)'s nipples to get hard??

NAKED POG

oh my god You know they're practically begging for it now....

Techno swallows audibly and practically slams the bar of soap into the sponge, making an audible wet noise and aggressively lathers them together, looking away again. It makes you jump a bit but you don't say anything. Neither of you do and you almost prefer it that way. Once the sponge has been violently soaped up enough he starts washing you. You don't move and he doesn't stop on any part pf your upper half. It made you think of those old erotic stories of royalty being bathed by a personal servant. You didn't like it.

.....Right now you really wish you two were capable of being normal. Or that any part of your relationship was.

After your front and back have been scrubbed down, you quickly dip back into the water amd rinse yourself off. You look down at your body in the water and hum as you see another fleeting fantasy go past Technoblade's mind.

You're touching him, hands simply on his chest and pressed close to him. You're looking up at him frightened anxiously for a moment before moving away and wading towards the little shelving around an edge in the bathing pool. You flush as you climb onto it and sit. You spread your legs-

You look up at him for a split moment before looking away. You feel shakey and sick, kind of like you're about to throw up. Your gut twists and you press your thighs together on instinct. Shit.

No.

"No-" You swallow as you completely turn your back to Techno. You hear the water move a bit as you assume he's straightening up, you know he's looking directly at you. He's thinking too fast for you to properly hear his thoughts and you refuse to tune into what the Chat is saying right now.

You need to think-

You're on top of him in one of his blouses. Its so big on you but you like it and you liked the way Techno looked at you when you wore it. Technoblade's hands were on your hip and you scoff becuase you didn't want it there. You flushed a bit and took one of them with your fingers and moved it underneath the blouse to your bare stomach. You could feel the way your lips stretched into a goofy smile when he somehow flushed darker than you and his pupils blew up. It actually made you laugh a little. It felt like a little victory. The hand still on your hip twitched.

"I uh..." You bite your lip between your grin. "I like it when your hands are here. They're so warm and they make me feel good sometimes."

He stares and you can hear his thoughts.

"... Makes me feel safe...... so please..."

You blink back the tears but can't stop the shudder and whimper that comes from that memory. Technoblade stands behind you as you realize where you are now. You're stand before the pool shelving and its like your stomach folds in on itself as you whine and stumble back in the water, bumping into him. You both flinch from the sudden skin to skin contact and you feel the overwhelming urge to start wailing.

Technoblade makes a noise as if he's taking a deep breath and you know its over. You pull away from him as soon as his has touches your shoulder, bumping roughly into the shelving. With a grimace, you climb up onto the shelving and spread your shakey legs.

You can't even catch his thoughts whwn he freezes up and the Chat roars.

Holyshitholyshit holySHIT

BRO???

ANOTHER WIN FOR THE HORNY THOUGHTS LETS GOOOOO

Fuck this is so hot what the fuck fuck babe

The cooler water that resides at the edges splash out of the tub and against your backside from the force of him moving so suddenly. Technoblade makes a noise as he hovers over you. His clawed hands grip the edges of the pool so hard you can hear the wood creak. He doesn't say anything as you try to meet his eyes. Visions of all the ways he wants to fuck you right here flash through his mind and it makes you want to close your legs. You end up pressing your thighs against his and you both gasp.

You bite your lip. "Soap." He blinks dumbly and you almost change your mind about all of this. "The scentless soap," you try to clarify. "I need to prep myself."

The Chat chatters loudly as Techno moved away. You close your eyes for a moment and take a deep breath as he returns to the water and reslots himself between your legs. You take the bottle from him and try to get comfortable as he uncomfortably stares directly at your groin. Already used to this scenario, you tune him out as you pop the bottle open and pour the slick substance onto yourself. You then put the bottle to the side and slide your hand down.

This isn't the first time you've had to stretch yourself (especially since your sexual partner couldn't- not with those sharp fingertips) and far from the first time you've taken the Blade so your fingers slip in with little resistance. You shudder and remind yourself to hate how he ruined you as you skip adding a second finger and go straight for three.

You hear the creak of the wood on the edge of the pool again but ignore looking up or at Technoblade as you keep fingering yourself until you're sure you're done. As soon as your fingers were out, his cock was slapped against your inner thigh. You yelp and look up at him.

He looks down at you as he finally puts his hands on you. You hiss when he drags your ass against the shelving to pull you closer.

"Sorry-" he thinks before opening his mouth to say it out loud, but you interrupt him. You grab him by the forearm as he has your thighs and lean foward a bit, biting your lip. You suck in a breath before letting out a whine.

"Shut the fuck up- stop fucking thinking and fuck me baby."

Being so used to hearing other's people thoughts without tuning them out (even now in these current times with everything Technoblade this accursed SMP has put you through), you aren't prepared to be sp overwhelmed by whatever the hell happens in your captor's head that makes you blackout for a moment. Its like you blink and whatever sexually charged energy you had before is replaced with fear.

Somewhere in the milliseconds after you said those words, Technoblade pushed you back roughly against the shelving and the edge of the pool and was now almost balls deep inside of you. You feel the pain blossoming against the back of your head apart of your back and yelp when you feel him fill you up oh so fucking good.

Its too much.

"Tech-" You make an ugly noise as he thrusts deeper somhow. Fuck- too much.

Whatever you were trying to get out is lost on your tongue as he starts fucking into you with total abandon. Its so good and bad and great and uncomfortable and painful-

The force of his movements rocks you into the edges of the pool and makes the cooled off water splash around and hit you in the face. You've let go of his arms, instead trying to brace yourself against the shelving the best you can with no way to get a proper grip. All you can do is whine and gasp.

"I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry fuck"

"(Y/N)," comes out in a growl and you whimper. You don't know when he leaned closer. Technoblade's tusk scratch the junction between your jaw and neck. You take this opportunity to grab onto him again and moan high.

He rocks hard into you and its so much better now- fuck you can feel every inch of him. It makes you pull yourself closer to him and sob.

"Techno- Techno Techno Techno," he groans low and licks a hot strip against your neck. You breifly wonder if he's licking sweat off or left over water that was dripping down from the bath you were having a few minutes ago. You don't wonder much longer as you feel the twist in your gut from earlier tighten. You sob again.

"No no no no no," you gasp as you hold on tighter and he gets rougher. "Fuck, Techno baby please please please..."

Miraculously, the beast hears your prayers but he doesn't slow down. He pulls back and pushes you away completely. You almost don't catch yourself against the pool's edge. He's still in you for amoment more before pulling out with a wince and you cry out.

You feel dissatisfaction start to replace the lust in your head but its quickly snuffed out when Technoblade grabs you and flips you over on the shelving. He shoves you hard onto your knees with your elbows over the edge as he reenters you from behind and you shout. The change in position, depth and temperature catch you completely off guard and interupts the flow. You don't feel as aroused as you were before. You're sore.

"T-Techno?" You try to turn around to look back at him but he hits something deep inside of you hard. You put a knuckle between your teeth. "Techno? Techno please it hurts now please Techno!"

He gets even rougher and you yelp when your knees hit the wall of the pool. A shadow is cast over you and water from Technoblade's body drips down onto you as he goes full throttle and rails you like this. Fuck.

"Techno Techno Techno please love-" you manage to get out before his thrusts take your voice away. You're belly feels warm again and you sob a bit defeated. You're heads clear again and you cry as your mind races. You can't hear his thoughts properly even now- too jumbled up in the midst of him borderline mindlessly fucking you. You however can hear the Chat clearly once again. It makes your gut twist disgustingly deliciously.

Fuck baby you're doing so good

while crying is sexy can you plz go back to making those cute noises k thanx

they're not enjoying it anymore don't be fucking rude :/

Roughnoblade /neg

(Y/N) oh poor baby they're crying!!

Techno you're being too rough damn bitch

hey you're okay love you're okay plz don't cry....

Gods we're so sorry but you DO look so fucking hot like this

fuck I bet you're going to bruise so nice

Yeah techno is going to be staring at them until they heal up lmao

You bite your lip and just take it until that twisted feeling snaps and you cum like this. Techno rides out your orgasm before you feel him get bigger (or you tightned in discomfort) and he spills into you. You whimper when he pulls out and you feel the hot cum start to slide out of you. Unfortunately for you, your lover doesn't leave you bent over the cold bathing pool's edge like that for howver long you wished to and readjusts your limp form before he finishes cleaning you. You sniffle as he takes ypu out of the water and bundles you up in the softest towel he has.

"It hurt." You said simply and Technoblade glances up at where he was now kneeling by your legs, helping you put on your underwear. He looked almost guilty.

"I'm sorry," he says softly.

"G̸̨͍͍̮͙̝͍̲̾͆̌̅̓̾̕Ȏ̵̡̡̳̣̟͕͍͍̘̱͗͝͝Ô̸̪̯̰̅͗͠D̷̟̘̦͕̼͈̻̏͗̋̂̿̔̕͘," he thinks.

You wonder if he still hopes you don't hear him.

[cottoncandyjester]

Yandere ocs

So I figured I should show them off..and make stories for them cause this idea won't escape my mind no matter what. Please be gentle on them

All artwork is made on picrew I don't own any of it

As far as they go I'm accepting request, questions for the characters to answer and just questions about them and if you just wanna talk to them you can via ask

Warning: contains both sfw and nsfw headcanons..also these boys are yanderes so they are kinda toxic

➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖➖

Theodore,21

Gentle giant

I'm not kidding he's 6'3"

Half japanese half american

Is a college student studying to be a doctor

Just the sweetest sweetheart

He comes across as ditzy though

He is the mom of any friend group

Will spoil his darling with affection and love

Best hubby vibes for sure

Works himself to death to provide for you both

Will give you all the headpats

"you're so sweet, a perfect angel"

Got his scar from his childhood

Loves sweets

Likes to make you lunch shaped as animals

Wholesome boy

Will never hurt you

Can be strict about self care

But completely forgets about his own self-care

Works so hard to please you

Makes sure you are never sad or anything

As far as his yandere side

He isn't the type to get violent but is definitely the emotional manipulation type

Will make his darling seem absolutely insane

"sweetie, you shouldn't leave be logical here"

He will make his darling question their own decision making

In his eyes you are too fragile for the outside world

Listen to him, he is only trying to protect you

Doesn't like it when you fight him

Prefers a sweet darling but if you are a hothead he'll love you just as much...though your fighting and struggling will be a challenge

Will drug you if that's what it takes to keep you calm

"Just listen to me, okay? Why would you ever need to think or make your own choices when you have me?"

Definitely has a low sex drive more of a cuddler

But when he wants it he's such a gentleman about it

Will seduce you with a nice meal first before asking to make love

He will never force you to though cause he knows what that feels like

Can spend hours kissing you

Definitely has a kink for purity

If you act super innocent he just can't help but pull you into his lap and love up on you

Doesn't do any feral sex unless you've pushed him past his breaking point.

Is a switch so if you want to top him he'll allow it but he is far more comfortable being the dom

Hikaru, 21

Young and famous model

Full japanese

Comes from a family full of actors

Flamboyant as hell will actually crossdress if he wants to cause fuck gender roles

Monster Dick energy

He comes across as loud and hyper

Seems super sweet and bubbly

Loves to dress up his darling in cute clothes and spoil them when they are well behaved

"look at my adorable baby! Oh you're such a cutie!"

Is a strawberry milk boba drinker(*cough* like me *cough*)

Will take you on shopping dates if you are good

Is the type to flaunt his credit cards

Is actually a degrading king

He isn't the nicest yandere

Will kill an entire army if he has to

Will degrade the absolute hell out of his darling to break your self esteem and self worth

"baby, who else will want you? Honestly darling do you think anyone else actually cares about someone as worthless as you?"

Kinky as fuck

Has a bad temper

Don't piss him off or he will hurt you

"why would you ever need to leave! The only one who cares about you is me! Everyone else will just use you and throw you away!"

Is the type to try and make his darling as clingy as possible

Wants a housewife type darling no matter the gender

Wants to come home to an obedient lover ready to give him a kiss, dinner, and a BJ

Always wants to love up on you and have you in his arms

Will be grouchy if he sees you getting too confident in your looks

He fears that if you have too much self confidence you're going to leave him

"what are you wearing? It's absolutely hideous. Hmm? I bought that? Huh you must have looked cute in it then but right now you kinda look like a pig"

All in all he's a brat

If you try and dom him he will absolutely fight back and it will lead to some feral sex

Axis, 18

100% blind

full japanese

Despite not being able to see he doesn't need a cane or anything

Though he likes it when you offer to hold his hand in public

Works at home as an artist

Is really good at it and had some of his work in museums

Like spicy foods

Dumbass

Like super dumb

"hey, babe is tomato sauce a smoothie? Or maybe it's like jelly..but made out of like tomatoes"

Is basically a puppy

Can't keep his hands off you

Is always kissing and loving you

Praise giving king

Has hightened senses so he definitely remembers your smell and how you walk

Always has to be with you

Never leave

Never

He can't handle it

Is the exact opposite of hikaru

Makes it seem like he will actually die without you

"don't leave! Please! I'm helpless without you! [Y/n]! Don't leave me by myself!"

Will make you quit your job

Will make you move in with him

Acts pathetic when you even mention leaving

Hugs your leg and sobs hard

Has fake fallen many times to get you to think he truly is helpless without you

Will have a screaming tantrum if you walk out the door

Just painful screams and sobs while he claws his own face and body out of absolute insanity

Will keep doing that until you come back to him

"s-see, I'm helpless without you. I'll die without you, I need you so please..stay with me forever"

As far as sex..

He is definitely cries during it

Loves you so much that he is just sobbing while fucking you cause you feel so good and he loves you and-

Is like a dog in heat

Loves just feeling all over your body

Sex with him usually lasts many rounds and involves him humping you to death while he sobs and drools all over you

Will sub for you if you want him to

Will honestly do anything you want as long as you are touching him

Prince, 24

Horny 24/7

Full Korean but moved to Japan shortly after birth

Gained his name out of a magazine..thanks mom and dad

Works as a bartender

Usually a one night stand kind of guy but with you it's different

Loves sloppy kisses and cuddles

Bad boy

Aka he pretends to be a bad boy but is actually a softie who loves dogs and long walks on the beach

Goofy as hell

Loves to make you laugh

He isn't used to having a real relationship so be easy on him

Doesn't like restricting you and lets you do basically anything you want

Of course you belong to him though so no doing crazy things

Like to take you to work with him and gives you free drinks

Definitely has a fan girl club

The word sex escapes his mouth every three seconds

Sex with him is usually amazing

He's knows exactly what he's doing

As long as you love him it's all good

The moment you try to break up with him or distance yourself he loses it

"huh? Huh huh huh huh?! You're kidding yeah?! Stop joking around"

Gets hella paranoid and locks you in his house while pacing around not sure what to do

Will kill for you like absolutely will slaughter someone if they get too close to you

He changes so dramatically it's hard to see him as the same laid back flirty guy

He gets tense and panicked

"you can't leave okay?! Don't even try to ask!"

Will start to calm down if he sees you are accepting your fate

Thinks sex will solve his problems

"you just need to see how much of a man I am yeah?! Then you'll stay right?! Of course you will!"

Spirals out of control

You belong to him in his eyes so you can't ever leave

Clearly has abandonment issues

Will try to do whatever he can to make you happy though

Want it and he will get it

just stay with him and he will be okay

Will try and do whatever he can to make you just as obsessed with him as he is for you

Clearly doesn't have experience in loving someone

He's not used to wanting someone to stay with him so he takes drastic measures to assure you never leave

Even tries getting you pregnant or making you disabled to make you make no choice but to stay

Yuki, 21

Not picking favorites buuut-

Sleepy boy

Oddly enough is super athletic and strong..despite not working out

Half japanese half american

Responds with sounds or very few words

Forked tongue- not given to him by choice

Owns a tattoo and piercing shop

Despite this he doesn't own any tattoos

Loves to put his head on your lap or stomach

Prefers chubbier lovers but honestly will love you regardless

Will sleep the entire day without eating if you let him

Doesn't like speaking but if he has to he will

Hates any sort of loud noise, has sensitive senses

Is pretty lazy but if he has to do it he will.. though he will make random grunts and grumbles the entire time while pouting

More of a cat than a person

Quite moody

Only you're allowed to touch him

Anyone else who does he'll glare at and act cold towards

Likes to hug you from behind and lean against you no matter your height

If you're shorter than him expect him to put his chin on your head

If you are taller he's nuzzling his face in your back and taking in your smell

Can't cook to save his life

Almost burnt the house down cause he fell asleep while cooking

It's fine cause he eats microwave dinners and snacks from the convience store

Low sex drive

The king of sleepy sex

Usually all sex with him is slow,teasing and just filled with sleepy praise and compliments

Unless he's jealous or stressed then it's just rough fucking

Doesn't really act like a yandere at all.. buuut-

Honestly thought you two were dating this whole time

What do you mean you two aren't a couple

No no sweetheart you two were dating the moment he laid eyes on you

If you try to break this fantasy he will shut it down

"we're dating."

Try and say no and he will not be able to handle it

All his delusions keep him from breaking down but if you absolutely say that you two aren't dating he will snap

"stop talking, we are dating. So stop lying"

Doesn't like the thought of kidnapping but he will do it if he must

Will even work from home if he has to

He isn't really a violent type so he won't kill for you but he will absolutely spread lies and use blackmail to get what he wants

All your friends and family think that you eloped with him and never want to see them again

It's better for you both if you just play along with his games

Will definitely tattoo his name on you

He won't ever gag you cause he likes to hear your voice but if you try to scream he honestly won't know what to do

The loudness makes him tear up and he just covers your mouth with your hands begging you to stop

"It hurt. Too Loud. Please."

He just wants to love you he doesn't see what he's doing wrong

He just wants to be with you forever so be good and don't fight him

Is definitely the stalker and stealing clothes type

Will make a nest of all your things that smell like you and he'll just lay in it being in absolute peace

Has scared any and all potential lovers away

Mostly through blackmail

He is easily jealous but pretends not to be

As soon as you walk into the house he is there to smell you to see if you smell different

If you do you are taking a shower with him immediately

If not then yay cool cuddles and kisses

[appleflavoredkitkats]

stagnant;

author’s note: been a while! this isn't as long as my other fics, but i wanted to write this because i just like the concept of fundy in las nevadas, okay? and smoke breaks. i love writing smoke breaks. and of course, i will be writing about fundy because i am biased and he deserves better lmao. this is all written before the las nevadas arc ever occurs, so if there are any discrepancies by the time las nevadas finishes, that ain't my fault.

also! all of this is platonic! i view schlatt as fundy's other father figure. for quackity, i don't necessarily view him as 100% manipulative towards fundy and schlatt, but you're free to interpret him in any way you want. and yes, i know the situation about schlatt, and i don't support the actions of the cc, but i do enjoy his dsmp character nonetheless.

DO NOT SEND THIS FIC TO ANY CONTENT CREATOR!! be nice!!

laslty, special thanks to my good friend dany from the dsmpanalysis discord server for beta-ing my fic!

relationships: platonic fundy & schlatt (father-son relationship)

warnings: trauma, smoking, gambling, drinking, alcoholism, substance abuse, self-harm (accidentally burning oneself), slight mentions of fire, parental neglect (from wilbur), unhealthy coping mechanisms, implied depression or mental illness, mental health struggles, addiction, references to past violence, death idealization, underaged gambling, arguments (in the background), and general angst!

word count: 1878

summary: fundy closes his eyes, taps on the quartz again, and leans forward on the metal bars of his balcony. he lets out another puff of smoke as he sinks into the lax atmosphere. he gives into the fantasy, the delusion.

a second pair of footsteps are then heard behind fundy, but even then, fundy doesn’t move from his position. he knows who it is anyway— there are only two or three people who had access to the five-star suites on the last floor, and only one of them frequents his room often.

“you know, smoking’s bad for your health,” schlatt tells him with a half-smirk.

or, it's midnight in las nevadas, and fundy has a smoke break with schlatt. he reflects on the state of the server, and he reflects on himself.

( ao3 link )

a click of a lighter, the tapping of dress shoes against chiseled quartz, the rummaging of pockets to fetch another fresh pack of cigs. his paws work automatically: slicing the plastic cover with his claws, fumbling the top open, and finally selecting a cigarette from the batch, twirling it between his fingers to the sound of muffled, jazzy tunes in the background.

with the smoke in between his sharp fangs, he guides the lighter to the end of the stick. there’s a deep inhale, letting the smoke fizzle into his lungs, latching onto every feeling of remorse, regret, guilt, sadness, pain, hurt, trauma, everything— 

and fundy exhales, all of those icky sensations evaporating into misty smoke.

this cycle of mindless smoking continues as fundy stands idly on his hotel room’s balcony. up ten stories high, fundy looms over almost everything in las nevadas. despite it being midnight, las nevadas’ visitors never relent. from above, staring with droopy eyes, fundy sees all four casinos lit up brighter than a neighbourhood during the holidays. no bulbs malfunction, thankfully; all of them flicker and twinkle as if there was something to celebrate about in this place full of deceit and temporary bliss. the bars, while more mellow, have the calmest of tunes blasting from their jukeboxes. when fundy first started working here, he remembers being fond of upbeat tunes like these, but they’ve quickly grown stale, or maybe fundy’s just grown tone deaf overtime. who knows?

everything about this place grows on fundy like a terrible rash. sometimes, he does enjoy the outgoing crowds and customers, but sometimes, the noise overwhelms him— ear-piercing, annoying, inharmonious. so, he ends up in places like his dishevelled room, unkempt from all the alcohol and exhaustion and the fact that he just doesn’t  want to give a fuck anymore. but as much as his room is reminiscent of the rubble he left in his original base, he at least feels at ease with the sounds he hears from above. there is the same jazz music, the same victorious yelling at jackpots, the same rolling from the slot machines, but it’s in diminuendo. 

it’s a symphony fundy will willingly listen to because he feels like he can separate himself from the chaos present downstairs. when he is with the others, when he serves tequila shots and shuffled decks, he feels like he is at the center of his own friends’ descent but from his own bedroom, he can pretend that he is fine, that everything is fine. he can live in the delusion that his friends are shouting from a well-deserved victory when deep in the back of his head, he knows that they’ve gotten inexplicably attached to machinery that he knows is programmed to bring about their demise.

fundy closes his eyes, taps on the quartz again, and leans forward on the metal bars of his balcony. he lets out another puff of smoke as he sinks into the lax atmosphere. he gives into the fantasy, the delusion.

a second pair of footsteps is then heard behind fundy, but even then, he doesn’t move from his position. he knows who it is anyway— there are only two or three people who had access to the five-star suites on the last floor, and only one of them frequents his room often.

the guy who enters pats his back twice gently as a greeting, settling himself next to fundy. fundy averts his gaze from the saturated lights to look at the goat hybrid. with a newly tailored suit and freshly manicured horns, schlatt has never looked more dapper, but his skin was still heavily scarred and immensely graying. 

“you know, smoking’s bad for your health,” schlatt tells him with a half-smirk. fundy lowers the smoke, coughing a little before raising an incredulous eyebrow at schlatt.

“i learned from the worst,” fundy replies as his free hand shuffles through his pockets, holding out the box of smokes for schlatt to get one for himself. fundy doesn’t need to ask schlatt if he has his own lighter; he somehow always does. he’s been used to his mannerisms ever since a darkened flag with glowing, orange lace loomed over a dying country.

schlatt easily raises the smoke to his chapped lips and lights it easily. he falls into the rhythm of the scenery, slouching against the metal railings as he watches the same fluorescent bulbs fundy had been watching. 

moments like these, no matter how incredibly fucked they are, are the closest fundy can get to tasting peace. his father once described peace as a taste of freedom. it is the image of bright-eyed soldiers under swathes of redwood trees, free from the shackles of tyranny and violence their oppressors have imposed on them.

but fundy knows, as always, that his father is a liar, because at this very moment, fundy connects the concept of peace with the disgusting taste of smoke.

it is a habit he’s picked up from a man he’d once considered perfect. back when the server first hit its grayest of days, sometimes fundy’s claws had itched to strike a match, to spark stones. the scorching blaze igniting was the most colorful thing  he’d had in that wasteland of grey. he’d kept doing it more and more and more, until his own fur and skin burned and he realized that he too is graying like the place he called home. when schlatt had first discovered it, fundy remembers a lot of talking—all kind, kind words that have tarnished his perception on what a caring guardian, or a father, may be—and then, out of the blue, fundy asks for a smoke. while a confused eyebrow quirks, schlatt gives him one to try out, saying that there is a first time for everything, especially since their lives have been as mundane as they possibly can be.

and here fundy is now, able to finish an entire pack in the span of a few days as if it is a part of his diet. 

but if all this substance abuse and addiction and self-sabotage and self-deprecation have become so widespread in the server, so normalized, would one even consider it awful? if everyone is traumatized or hurt, does the concept of trauma even exist in the first place?

“you know, i— don’t take this the wrong way, but i thought that you would be much happier to see all your friends reunited,” schlatt speaks, fingers gesturing to tiny specks on the ground that move in sync with the jazz. fundy hums non-committedly as a reply, not really knowing what to say. 

“well, sucks to be you, i guess. mopey ass,” schlatt jokes with the same half-smirk he uses whenever fundy is notably graying like he did in the past. fundy chuckles at it, at least, but his shoulders droop immediately after. the smallest bouts of happiness and joy make him unbelievably tired nowadays.

fundy attempts to lift his smoke again to his lips, but surprisingly, schlatt interrupts, forcing fundy to lower his arm. fundy stares at him acutely with furrowed brows. “fundy, i—” schlatt begins, and his lighthearted expression dwindles into something much more anxious and apprehensive. schlatt clears his throat and continues, “fundy, kid, i know i’m not the type to get all grossly emotional and whatnot—that’s more of tubbo’s thing—but you have to listen to me when i say that you need to leave.” schlatt grips fundy’s forearm now, firm yet slightly shaking. “kid, you’re not healthy here. it’s— you— this—” schlatt gestures towards the buildings, the lights, the entire shithole that they are stuck in, “this is not somewhere you need to be. you need to leave when you can.”

fundy blinks, and then he blinks once more before his free hand shrugs off schlatt’s grip. he returns to his original position of leaning against the railing, and through the reflection of the cold metal, fundy can see the unpleasant surprise on schlatt’s face transform into something more defeated. a pregnant silence precedes a long, exasperated sigh from schlatt. the edges of fundy’s lips slightly curve downwards.

“well, it would be easier if it weren’t for the fact that i literally have nowhere else to go,” fundy replies monotonously, as if this statement is something he’s rehearsed several times before. “i’ve hit rock bottom, schlatt. i have nothing else to lose,” fundy continues, huffing out a melancholic chuckle. he doesn’t think this situation he’s stuck in is anything comedic, but it sure is amusing how his life has continuously spiralled further and further for the past five years. he’s amused by the fact that he is still very much alive and breathing by this point despite the—fundy looks at his half-finished cigarette, the livid circles under his eyes, his furrowing ears as being exposed to multiple explosions has caused a permanent, high-pitched sound to ring in them sporadically—small, little missteps. 

it’s quiet again as schlatt stares at fundy uncomfortably. “you’re really out here wishing for god to strike you dead in front of a dead man— how very respectful of you,” schlatt replies sarcastically. fundy knows schlatt only wants to lighten up the mood. schlatt has been very persistent in helping fundy find the brighter side of things for a while, but lately, they’ve fallen flat. is schlatt’s eloquence gradually deteriorating, or is it fundy who’s only gotten more numb towards schlatt?

fundy doesn’t know, and both possibilities are undesirable, really, so fundy decides to speak. “i’m sorry,” fundy says, and he doesn’t know if it is for himself or for schlatt. maybe it’s for the both of them.

schlatt’s look softens, and he raises his free palm to grip fundy’s shoulder, thumbing it for comfort. a part of fundy wants to sob, to cry, but he chokes all his tears back with an inhale of smoke. “i’m sorry too,” schlatt murmurs, his voice the softest and the most caring it has ever been. when fundy exhales, he can feel tears prick the corners of his eyes as schlatt continues, “you deserve better.”

fundy hums and his eyes trail downwards to gaze at las nevadas’ visitors once more. he spots ranboo, possibly exhausted judging by his sloppy movements, forcefully pulling a crazed tubbo from a slot machine. fundy remembers that inside, he has seen purpled, foolish, and puffy shout over a simple card, a two of clubs, arguing on whether they should split the fifteen stacks of diamonds or not. he remembers finding sam outside the bar next to the trash bins downing his own personal bottles of alcohol, gripping tightly on a withered rose as he sobs uncontrollably. at the side, he can now see a distressed bad and ant incessantly begging the blackjack booths to accept their territory offers as they’ve lost all their possessions to far too many rounds of roulette wheels and texas hold’ems. he also spots a jovial yet sly quackity skipping through the streets energetically as a stern techno and phil trail behind him, ready to smite anyone who dares terrorize the place. 

and lastly, he stares away from the crowds and returns to gaze at schlatt—tired eyes, frayed hair, drying skin—with a bittersweet smile. fundy replies, “i think we all do.”

[korpuskat]

Kinktober Day 5 - Sadism -Tomura Shigaraki/Reader

[Ao3 Mirror] Rating: Explicit Word Count: 1,721 Summary: Tomura has a lot of fun hurting you. Contains: rape/noncon*; Sadism, biting, painplay, 

=====

"Beg me to stop." He rasps into your ear- and sinks his teeth into the meat of your shoulder, in and in until something hot slides down your chest.

Everything about you trembles, "Stop..."

Pain explodes over your ass- you yelp, jump beneath him- and his mouth, still wet with spit or blood rubs against the shell of your ear. "Louder." Teeth nip at the thin, sensitive skin there as his lips split into a grin, "I want everyone to hear you."

Your fingers twist into his sheets, "Stop! Please, stop! Don't-"

And his hand meets your ass again, the imprint of his palm makes your skin sting, burn with each impact- and they keep coming. Over and over until you're trying to scramble away, pressing yourself down into the bed to get any respite- but the hand at your waist keeps you near enough, keeps your hips angled back for him to continue his assault. Another hit has his bitten nails scratch you and you're gasping, whining, "Hurts, hurts, Tomura,"

And the hand at your hips twists into your hair, yanks you back- you grab at his wrist on instinct, move back with him as he pulls you up to your knees again, further until your back presses entirely to his front. Still, he does not release his grip, pulls until your head is against his shoulder, neck long and arched and exposed. His other hand gropes at your stinging, welted ass, makes you squirm back against his hard cock. "That's the point."

In an instant you're face-first in the bed again, his weight coming down on the hand on your head while he reaches past you, grabs something. The weight eases, his hand disconnecting from your hair to slide down the long line of your back- and his nails dig in, rake four perfect red lines through your skin. You hiss, arch away from his hand- and with your knees still planted, you're acutely aware of how you're presenting to him. The hand stops at the small of your back, presses there in warning to keep still- and moves again.

He parts the lips of your cunt, draws one finger from the leaking hole there down to the swollen bud of your clit. One touch has your thighs shaking, has your glad your face is buried in the blankets to hide your shame. He shuffles his hands for a moment- and something touches either side of your clit. He rubs there- and it's too firm to be his fingers, slightly cool, smooth with a bit of a hard edge and- you stiffen as the switch flips. You turn your head as far as you can to look back at him- and he meets you with that wide, terrible grin. "Wait! Wait, don't, please!"

Tomura lets out one pleased breath as you tense- and he lets the clothespin close over your swollen clit. The noise that leaves you isn't human, the raw animal instinct of pain makes you freeze, thighs shaking as every muscle in your lower body pulls taut in the simultaneous need to stop moving, to ease the pain and to get it off. Shock and agony leave tears in your eyes as you struggle to hang on.

"How's that? Too much for you?" His laugh is the only thing you can hear past your own broken gasps- and his palms rub in soothing strokes on the smooth expanse of your thighs.

"It hurts," You whimper.

"Good." Pain eclipses all other thought- until something warm is prodding at the slick between your legs. His hand is cool on your overheated, bruising rear while he holds you still. "I'm going to fuck you and you're going to feel that every second of it."

He waits for you to beg- lets the head of his cock nudge the underside of your swollen, clamped clit. The twinge of pain brings your voice back- "No, no, wait!"

His cock splits you open so hard, so fast, you don't even feel it for a long moment; the pain of the backs of your ass cheeks meeting his thin, taut abdomen, the hard lines of his hipbones is the first thing you feel. It chokes down any other words you might've had, smothers them into submission- and then he withdraws. As he pulls out, it tugs against the sensitive lips of your pussy-- and your clit. A wail rises in your throat- and the sound of Tomura's laughter pierces your ears.

He doesn't give you the luxury of building pace, of the slow ascension to decent friction, no- one hand tangles into your hair again, the other at your hip while he fucks you. With your reddened ass that smarts with each impact of his hips and your clit that throbs with each downstroke, you get no rest, no moment to catch your breath.

Tomura leans over you, his thrusts turning shallow and easy. The heat from his body warms your back, but there's no warmth in his words. "You're going to cum for me." The hand that was wrapped in your hair scratches its way down your body- and circles around until his fingertips press into the soft mound just above your pussy. "Just like this."

And he finds the hood of your aching clit, the sensitive flesh beneath throbbing with every beat of your heart and he rubs.

Pain. Pain has your back aching, breath coming in fast, unfulfilling gasps. Every motion has him tugging on that thin skin, makes the clothes pin bob between your legs. And it hurts, it hurts, and his cock is moving in you and it feels good-

it comes out of nowhere. Masked under the pain, raw sensation has driven you up and up until something uncomfortably close to pleasure rears its head. The realization makes your head spin, that you're already so close, your pussy pulsing around him. His hand on your hips pulls you back into his next thrust, drives down- and it's enough.

You clench around him- and your clit's sensitivity shoots through the roof. For one agonizing second all you can feel is that unrelenting, cruel pressure- until he's knocking it off. The removal is nearly as painful, the rush of hot blood back into the crushed nerve endings and it doesn't matter because it's stopped and you're cumming, clit throbbing in time with your pulse, counterpoint to your cunt's merciless grip on his still-moving cock-

and as soon as you can take a breath, you're screaming.

.

.

.

.

.

Dabi's seen all sorts of things in his time lurking around any space that abhors heroes- which is mostly among villains. They're not good people, but this was something else. He didn't have any delusions about Shigarki's nature- he'd tried to kill Dabi in a childish fit when they first met after all- but he hadn't expected that. Nor had anyone else, from everyone else's reactions.

Jin had half a mind to charge in there after please, stop, but Atsuhiro and Shuichi had been enough voice of reason. Maybe if it was anyone else displaying their unsavory tendencies they would've let him, but it was Shigaraki. What could they do, really? Get dusted for trying to get him to keep it in his pants or take his morbid conquests elsewhere? Atsuhiro corrals them into stepping out, to "give our esteemed leader some privacy." and even Dabi with his burnt-out taste buds can taste the derision.

Kurogiri's response is the least surprising; he sits in one corner, quiet and unconcerned with his charge's hobbies. Toga- well. He should've expected it, her obsession with people all beat up and covered in blood. Her cheeks flush pink, eyes going far-off as her lips curl up. He can't blame her- it's exactly what he's feeling. At the broken-off scream, they each excused themselves to separate rooms, probably to do the same thing.

If he were being honest it might've been the hardest Dabi's cum in weeks.

He meets Shigaraki's eyes after, while his leader trudges to the bathroom to clean himself up. They're each unconcerned with the other's presence and Dabi figures, sure, whatever. They're all wanted murderers anyway and Shigaraki knows well enough to clean up his messes- and it's certainly faster and easier than Dabi's Quirk.

What he doesn't expect, however, is the next morning, after everyone's gathered again-- Shuichi's face the only one exposed to look uncomfortable, actually-- is the voice from Shigaraki's room. The door clicks open and- everyone in the room's thoughts stutter to a stop as your shoes scuff the floor, your voice carrying through the thin walls.

"Sorry, guess I passed out." And you laugh; nobody in the main room even breathes. Had he not killed you? Why?

"You needed it." Shigaraki says.

"I really did need that." You say, a double meaning heavy on your tongue. "Thank you."

Kurogiri stands, approaches the little hallway just as you step around the corner. Your eyes go wide at the unfamiliar faces, scan across the room before looking away in shame, one hand rising to rub at the back of your neck. It draws Dabi's eye down- and the pieces begin to fit together in his head.

Everywhere above the collar of your shirt is covered in dark, unhealed bites, a perfect outline of Shigaraki's hand- sans middle finger- is imprinted in your skin in purple bruises. Even on your chin, Dabi sees it now- a pink halfmoon of what can only be teeth marks.

Shigaraki steps into the room behind you- and Dabi's seen him when he wants to kill. No, no, Shigaraki just looks bored. That had to be it- he was right about the boss being a sadist, but you. Dabi's cock is so hard it hurts, aches between his legs as you speak with Kurogiri, tell him where you want to go. A masochist able to keep up with even Shigaraki's sick fantasies? It takes every ounce of control he has not to palm himself right then and there.

"Are you gonna be on Cloud Seven tonight?" Shigaraki asks, unconcerned as Kurogiri's warp expands out.

You tap your chin, "Probably not 'till after six, but I'll see you then." You wave to Shigaraki, who shrugs and turns to go back into the dark hallway- and just like that you're gone.

=====

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[eddieeatsass]

Put Your Hand in Mine

Summary: "It had been two years since he'd first kissed Eddie, and Richie was still unequivocally in love with him. He'd deluded himself into believing that his crush on Eddie would fade as time passed, that the memory of those soft lips would stop plaguing his dreams. But it only got worse as they grew, and as Eddie continued to shine brighter than the fucking sun. So sue him, he was head over heels." Pairing: Reddie Rating: T Read on AO3

It had been two years since he'd first kissed Eddie, and Richie was still unequivocally in love with him.

He'd deluded himself into believing that his crush on Eddie would fade as time passed, that the memory of those soft lips would stop plaguing his dreams. But it only got worse as they grew, and as Eddie continued to shine brighter than the fucking sun.

So sue him, he was head over heels.

Eddie seemed as oblivious as ever, and Richie had never been more thankful for anything in his life. Richie could get away with pining as openly as he wanted, and Eddie remained none the wiser.

He'd settled into comfort knowing Eddie was blissfully unaware of the way Richie felt about him. In fact, he preferred it that way. If Eddie found out, they'd have to have a conversation that would undoubtedly lead to Richie dying right there on the spot. So, Richie would much rather just pine from afar and avoid that whole situation.

Eddie's obliviousness is exactly why Richie felt so secure in asking Eddie to the movies that weekend. It had been a while since they'd done something just the two of them, and even though the one on one hangouts caused butterflies to scatter about Richie's stomach, he still longed for the moments he got to savor between just the two of then

Richie sometimes let himself indulge in the delusion that they were doing these things together as a couple, that when they sat together in the dark theater, Richie could reach over and intertwine their fingers. That he could feed him popcorn and then kiss those buttery lips when no one was looking. It was embarrassing really, that Richie would spend their time together pretending it was a date while Eddie simply enjoyed his time with a friend, but Richie allowed himself these small vices.

That vice, however, was a lot harder to reign in when Eddie showed up looking far more put together than what was strictly necessary for the movies. He was wearing a brand-new button down that Richie didn't recognize, and his hair seemed freshly cut. Richie just about lost his ability to function, fighting against everything just to keep from reaching out and grabbing Eddie by the waist, allowing the line between reality and his fantasy to merge.

"Hey Rich!" Eddie greeted him with that sunny smile that made Richie's world spin on its axis. Richie thanked the gods that he was leaning against a wall for support he hadn't realized would come in handy.

"Wow Eds, looking mighty fancy for a showing of Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles." Richie commented, hoping he'd been able to school his tone enough not to reveal his current state.

Eddie shrugged, looking down at himself as if to assess Richie's claim.

"I know you're used to wearing the same three shirts on repeat, but normal people actually buy new clothes every once in a while." Eddie teased.

"Touché."

"Got the tickets?" Eddie asked.

Richie's legs stopped threatening to give out beneath him for long enough to push himself off the wall and begin making his way towards the theater entrance. He held up two tickets over his shoulder in response.

"Don't say I never treat ya, kid."

Really, Richie owed Eddie money from the last time they'd gone out, so it wasn't like he was paying for Eddie exactly. If he'd given the money straight to Eddie, it would have gone towards the ticket anyway, but this way Richie got to continue the charade in his head of being the doting date to one Eddie Kaspbrak.

They stopped for popcorn on the way to their theater room. Richie got M&Ms for Eddie because be knew he liked to dump them into the popcorn, and Eddie got an extra water because be knew Richie always got thirsty halfway through the popcorn bag. With their arms full and goofy smiles carrying them down the hall, they made their way to their seats.

Richie had almost digested all the butterflies that had made their home in his stomach. There were still a few that would flutter when Eddie looked at him a certain way, or when their fingers would brush as they passed the popcorn back and forth, but Richie was feeling much more capable of taming his betraying body than he was ten minutes ago.

The previews came and went, lighting up the theater with promises of future movies that Eddie and Richie would dedicate themselves to seeing. Every time Eddie would lean over and whisper a little ‘we need to see that’, Richie’s heart would flutter at the thought of being able to do this all over again.

When the movie finally started, they sank down into their seats and turned their full attention to the screen. It was a welcome distraction for Richie, and he let himself be fully pulled into the show unfolding before them.

 It was about 45 minutes into the movie when things changed. Their popcorn had long been finished, the bag sitting empty at their feet, and Richie was on his second water bottle (thank you Eddie). A fight was unfolding on screen, a battle between the ninja turtles and a new villain Richie didn’t recognize from the comics. He was so invested in the story that he almost didn’t realize when Eddie snaked his hand into Richie’s, which laid across their shared armrest with accidental invitation.

Richie jolted in his seat, having to physically hold back from letting out a noise that would probably get them kicked out. His head spun to regard Eddie whose head was still engrossed with whatever was happening in front of them.

Richie’s body felt like it was shutting down, stopping all executive functions in favor of rerouting his energy to the part of his brain that was trying to figure out what the fuck was happening.

The most logical reason Richie was able to come up with was that Eddie was a little shit.

Eddie always berated Richie for taking up the entire arm rest to himself every time they went to the movies, so this was probably his way of teaching Richie a lesson. He could almost hear Eddie’s voice saying ‘Well, I wouldn’t have to do this if somebody had learned the concept of sharing in kindergarten’.

Richie decided then that if Eddie was going to be petty, then so was he. He would hold Eddie’s hand until it got sweaty and unbearable.

 It never got sweaty and unbearable. In fact, the longer they held hands, the more Richie sank into the comfort it offered him. By the time the credits were rolling, it felt like second nature. Of course they were holding hands, this was Eddie and Richie loved him and therefore he held his hand.

That’s when the realization hit Richie like a freight train. He’d allowed himself to be consumed by his daydream, convinced himself that they were on a date and Eddie loved him back and unicorns existed.

Richie suddenly felt sick to his stomach.

“I gotta go take a piss.” Richie muttered, shooting up from his seat and speed walking out the door.

His hand tingled, still warm from the heat of Eddie’s. Richie shook it violently as if he could wick off his feelings like water.

 Richie took twice as long as he needed to in the washroom, dreading what was to come when he left the safety of his stall. He practiced what he was going to say to Eddie enough times that he was sure the entire male population at the theater had heard him, but he still found himself speechless when he walked out of the bathroom to see Eddie waiting for him.

“Hey.” Eddie smiled encouragingly.

“Hey.” Richie answered, mouth flapping open and shut like a fish out of water.

“So, if you want, uh, we can just forget that ever happened.” Eddie blurted suddenly.

“Do… you want to pretend it never happened?” Richie asked cautiously, trying to read Eddie’s expression.

Eddie took a moment before shaking his head. It was such a small movement Richie might have missed it if he hadn’t been observing Eddie so closely.

“It’s fine, Eds.” Richie continued nervously. “I’m no stranger to taking the joke too far. And now I’ve learned my lesson, I promise to never hog the arm rest ever again.”

Eddie’s face contorted in confusion, causing Richie’s to mimic the same.

“Wait, what are you talking about?”

Richie stared at Eddie calculatingly.

“…What are you talking about?”

“Richie.” Eddie sighed, but there was a hint of amusement in his eyes. “What is going on in your head right now.”

“Uhhhhh, you held my hand because you wanted the arm rest.” Richie babbled dumbly.

Eddie continued to stare at him, that same amusement now accompanied by a smug little smile.

“And does that make sense?” Eddie’s tone was teasing.

“What other explanation is there?”

“That maybe…” Eddie’s hand reached forward, brushing against Richie’s delicately. “I just wanted to hold your hand.”

“That’s even less logical than my reasoning.” Richie countered with an exhausted huff.

“Why?”

Eddie’s face was completely open, but there was something vulnerable there too. Something Richie hadn’t seen in a long time, not since-

“Eds… are you… gay?” Richie made sure to ask in a hush, leaning closer to Eddie so those around them couldn’t overhear.

Eddie leaned in as well, closing the space between them until there was only a breath between their lips. Flashes of the first time they kissed clouded Richie’s thoughts. Eddie had grown so much since then, filled out into a body that harnessed all his allure in the perfect package. Richie wanted to know what it would be like to kiss him now.

“Are you?” Eddie whispered.

Richie gulped, nodding even though he had a feeling Eddie already knew the answer. In fact, it was seeming more and more likely that Eddie was privy to much more than Richie’d thought he was, and that realization was terrifying.

“Good, I’m glad we have that settled.” Eddie stated in an almost business-like fashion. Richie almost cracked a smile. "Hopefully our second date goes better than this one has."

Richie’s entire face went blank.

"THIS WAS A DATE?!" Richie shouted, earning a shush from Eddie through unrestrained giggles.

"Come on, Rich, I'm not completely oblivious. I knew you were asking me on a non-official-date date. I've known you for years, I know your tells."

"What tells? I have tells!?"

Before Richie could get an answer, Eddie was joining their hands once again, this time dragging Richie behind him towards the theater exit.

"What tells, Eddie?!"

Eddie simply looked over his shoulder, all innocent eyes and bashful smile. He seemed determined to keep his secrets for now, and to Richie's surprise, he didn't care all that much.

Because Richie was holding Eddie's hand, and it was infinitely better than that silly kiss had been all those years ago. This signified something, it was the start of Richie’s fantasies bleeding into reality, tangible in the way Eddie’s hand slotted perfectly into his.

[tragedybunny]

Wise Men Say, Only Fools Rush In - Chapter 1: Welcome to the Jungle

What I had expected was an interview, a proper face-to-face with the chance to prove my suitability to my potential superiors. What I had was maybe twenty minutes on the phone with the notorious CEO before he cut me off abruptly. “That will be enough for today, Ms. Du Couteau. I’m perfectly convinced your Father is correct and you will be more than sufficient for the role here.” From the moment he spoke I’d noticed that while rich and cultured, his voice carried a certain quality to it, a sense of superiority, as though he held himself above those around him. It seemed to me that it was genuine confidence though, unlike Father’s smugness, which always seemed to be from a place of compensating for whatever. As rich and powerful as he, I could only think he had short man syndrome with his insecurities. There was something dark as well in the tone of this Mr. Swain, he was not a man to be trifled with. “Provided you do not prove to be inept in some way I can’t predict.”

It was probably unwise that I gave in as I felt my temper flare at the unnecessary condescension. “Thank you for your time, Mr. Swain. I can’t wait to prove myself sufficiently competent for my future with Noxus Holdings.” The sarcasm rolled off my tongue before I could catch myself, my eyes going wide and a hand moving to cover my mouth as though that could undo what I’d said.

There was a long pause on his end and I held my breath, sure that I’d just burned this whole thing to the ground. “Very well, we’ll expect you in two weeks. I’ll have all the details forwarded to you.” I could’ve sworn he sounded almost amused and I died a little bit inside.

Hanging up, I could feel the blood rushing to my cheeks, and was thankful I was alone so no one could see their crimson hue. Had I really just snapped at the most important person at my new employer, the CEO of the company that my whole future hinged on? And he hadn’t said anything. Either this was one of those “I like her moxie” types of situations or there would be hell to pay later. The latter was usually the case for me anyway.

It was with that peculiar encounter in mind that I found myself waiting in the lobby of Noxus Holdings wearing a subdued gray suit, hoping to look less like the hot-head I’d proven to be over the phone. I swallowed a nervous exhale and glanced around, a carefully constructed fantasy of an industrial office space from a century ago surrounded me, all glass, and iron, and deco style windows. An escort from my department should arrive at any moment, and I wanted to be damn sure I looked as cool and confident as possible. It wasn’t as if the job itself would be a challenge, contracts and fending off lawsuits from angry ex-employees and investors, nothing I hadn’t done before.

“Red!” A richly accented, yet horrifyingly familiar and obnoxious voice broke the quiet ambiance of the lobby. The pair of receptionists on duty shot furtive glances toward the source in unison before returning to what they were doing. Standing just in front of the elevator, a black suit with a yellow blouse perfectly accenting her bronze skin, was a woman I’d hoped I’d left behind on graduation day, Samira.

How had I missed that this was where she’d ended up? I’d stayed in touch with some of our old sorority sisters, and they kept me in the loop on a lot of the gossip about everyone. It made a lot of sense though, she had a truly vicious nature, there was no way she wasn’t thriving here. I inhaled, feeling a slight twitch in my eye at even this small interaction, and walked toward her. “Hello Samira, it’s been a while.” My voice remained level and surprisingly pleasant, I just needed to treat her like every troublesome, idiotic client I’d ever been assigned, even if I felt irritation clawing at every one of my nerves. It had always been like that, something about her just grated on me.

“A while!? We haven’t talked since the Phi Sigma Tau farewell party.” The wind was suddenly knocked out of me as I found myself in a very unwelcome embrace. “Not that anybody saw much of you that night, well except Garen. Not that I blame you, a moonlit beach, a few good drinks, perfect romantic atmosphere.” I was freed only to be nudged harshly with an elbow as Samira leered at me in a teasing manner. “And I heard he saw quite a bit of you out there on the sand.” The laugh that followed was at least quiet enough that we didn’t instantly become the center of attention.

An involuntary snort escaped me and I felt irritation starting to give way to outright anger, my mind buzzing and my vision starting to tunnel. “I’m surprised anyone noticed with the other incident that happened that night.” My pleasant mask remained in place but reminding her I wasn’t the only one with a story from that night filled me with a sense of petty satisfaction, especially since hers ended with the wail of police sirens.

“What can I say, it was a wild night all around.” Her arm looped through mine and she began to drag me toward the elevator. “See, it’s just like old times.” For a moment I wondered if she could truly be this oblivious to my intended insult. That was answered a moment later she leaned in and violently whispered in my ear. “Don’t think you can fuck with me Red. Your Daddy’s name isn’t going to get everything just handed to you here.” I’d just made horrifying mistake number two. There was no way she hadn’t been baiting me to see what reaction I’d have. With reckless force, she jabbed the elevator button and spoke in a more audible and warm tone. “I’m sure we’ll find ourselves to be best friends all over again.”

I nodded silently, not wanting to give her a response that would encourage her further. These last few moments had brought my new reality into stark clarity. I hadn’t expected to waltz in and find myself in a top position with no work on my part, but I hadn’t anticipated that I’d be met with outright hostility. If it was just Samira that would be one thing, but were there others lurking in the shadows that I’d have to wary of? Maybe deep down I had still had some delusion about the family name being a shield of sorts, those were just entirely shattered. It would get me no further than it already had.

A vintage styled, cage-like elevator came to a stop before us. An insistent tugging on my arm pulled me into it after her, her pleasant smile frozen into place. The doors closed, a cheery ding sounded, and we dropped all semblance of civility to glare at one another. “My dear,” my eyes rolled reflexively at the honeyed tone, “we are going to be working very closely. Try not to lash out every time I make a harmless joke. I know you are used to things being smoothed along in the family business.” Nails dug into my palm, there was no way she could know the truth, but still, I fought an urge the physically quiet her.

I know a powerplay when I see one, this whole scene had been staged to give Samira a sense of dominance in our new arrangement. And there was no way I could retaliate with her seniority over me. At least not yet. I could feel bile creeping its way up my throat as I realized that if I was going to succeed and build my life of independence, there was nothing I could do about it right now but live with it. There was the small consolation that I gleaned something else from this encounter, if Samira was taking direct action it was because she was threatened. I’d always been the better lawyer, all throughout school and our intern days. It was likely I wouldn’t end up having to live with her antics for long. To that end, I released a breath and relaxed my shoulders. “You’re right. Let’s start this whole thing over. It’s good to see you again Samira.”

A small noise of approval escaped her and she turned away to face the elevator doors, clearly satisfied with my conciliatory act. Well, even if she had won the battle for today, there was still a war to be fought. Another high-pitched ding and the cage stopped at one of the upper floors. The same aesthetic carried through here, exposed venting ran along the ceiling, gray carpet accented the dark wood and iron-finished metal of the walls, artfully uncovered “antique” light bulbs illuminated anywhere the natural light from those same intricate windows from the lobby didn’t reach. “We should really track down Darius and I’ll introduce you.” There was an implication she was doing me a favor. Another small irritation, the whole department reported to him, it was expected we’d meet. “He’s the VP and also head’s up the acquisition team along with lega-Ah!”

Samira had turned to speak over her shoulder at me and midspeech was physically halted by a collision with a figure appearing from around a corner. I stifled the laugh that bubbled up, she’d desperately deserved that little impact. “Sorry Sam, don’t kill me. Well hello there new and gorgeous.” His tone shifted from apologetic to a practiced arrogance somehow in perfect harmony with the goatee he sported, one that I can only imagine he believed was attractive. The obvious leering that accompanied his words left me with the urge to bury my knee in his groin.

“Draven, this is Katarina, she’s just starting with us in legal. Should I let your brother know what a warm welcome you’re giving his new employee?” The newcomer’s face visibly became several shades paler. Interesting, it would seem that Noxus was also a place of family ties. “Kat, this is Draven, head of marketing.” For once, I couldn’t blame her for the annoyance coloring her words.

A hesitant hand reached out toward me and I made sure to lock my grip on it firmly. Years of martial arts as a hobby had left me with deceptive strength in my small frame. Pale blue eyes widened at the sudden pressure as I smiled sweetly. “Very pleased to meet you Draven.”

Shockingly, he returned my smile when I released his hand. “You’ve got a bit of a spark, I’ll bet you fit in just fine. Lookin’ forward to working with ya.” Wordlessly, Samira led on as Draven waved pleasantly behind us. “Be nice to this one Sam!”

An irritated sigh escaped her, but she waited until we were out of earshot to speak again. “Nicely done,” a compliment, he must really rub her the wrong way, “he’s harmless, but it’s good to keep him on a short leash.”

The hallways we passed through lacked the small cubicle farms you would find on the lower floors, instead, there were plenty of offices, conference rooms, and occasionally open-plan shared workspaces for teams who worked closely together. It was in one of those workspaces, bordered by offices, that Samira finally stopped. The buzz of those gathered in the area halted, and all eyes turned toward us. Silence reigned even as the curious examination of the newcomer was evident. “Everyone, this is Katarina, our new team member I told you about.” Murmurs welcoming me to the group responded, they were subdued though, as if they were afraid to be too excitable in front of Samira.

Despite the outwardly friendly moment, I kept my face neutral, and voice aloof as I returned their greetings. Any group within a company this high profile would be extremely competitive, and I’d be damned if I was going to start by giving off an air of weakness. They were probably already appraising me, deciding if I was any real threat to their positions.

“I see I’m right on time.” A deep voice cut through the subdued chatter and a massive figure approached us. Clad in a simple, but clearly expensive suit, his presence seemed to fill the entire space as he exuded a calm confidence. There was also something familiar about him, I was sure he had been at the family firm before.

“You couldn’t give me an hour before checking in, could you?” Indignation caused her voice to go up an octave in pitch, an effect that was quite satisfying for me.

The newcomer’s eyes narrowed dangerously, my first taste of the office hierarchy in action. Impatiently he gestured for us to follow, and not wanting to seem daunted by the sparks, I cut in front of Sam, following to an office that was nearby. Once the door was slammed behind us, I realized it was her office, the degree proudly displayed on the wall bearing her name. Tension enveloped the three of us. “Don’t start Sam. I’m not trying to babysit you.”

She clicked her tongue and muttered in defeat. “Fine, just make it quick.”

The full attention of the room fell on me. “Darius Basilich, pleased to finally meet my newest team member.” He held out a hand for a much more dignified handshake than the one I gave his brother. “Sorry we haven’t had a chance to talk before now, Jericho doesn’t always give us a head’s up when he’s decided something.” The gruff words had a frankness and sense of honesty about them that was refreshing. I took note of the use of Mr. Swain’s first name, it was good to know who he was that comfortable with.

Releasing his hand, I could recognize that he’d be my first ally here and one that I needed on all fronts. “I believe we’ve met previously, while I was interning for my father.”

In answer, he offered a small, but genuine smile. “Thought you looked a bit familiar. Must have been when I was wrangling Draven out of that mess.”

Sam, who had sat behind her desk and started furiously typing, snorted. “Your brother is always into something.”

My expression must have faltered because he let out a weary sigh. “I see you’ve met. Anyway, great to have you on board. It was a shock that Marcus was willing to let one of the kids go.”

My stomach crawled as I recalled the last two weeks of verbal abuse I’d gone through, not just from Father, but Cassie as well. All because I dared to leave them. I was never more grateful for my apartment, that space that was mine alone, and no one could spoil it. Leaving the family manor was one of the best decisions I’d ever made. Of course, I couldn’t get into any of that, so I just shrugged nonchalantly. “Who would’ve guessed.”

“I’ll let you get settled in, we’ll talk again soon. Sam, play nice.” They glared at each other one last time before he exited.

“You two have a problem?” I ventured. Knowledge was power, so I needed to get the lay of the land quickly.

Laughter met my words. “Nah, Darius and I just have an endless pissing contest. He’s alright, but I am going to replace him as the boss’s favorite eventually.” No surprise it was some obnoxious game of hers. “Anyway, let’s get you settled in the office, I’m sure it’s not the posh corner you had a Daddy’s, but you weren’t expecting that anyway.” If the thought of returning to him defeated didn’t make my stomach heave, I would’ve knocked her out cold. Instead, I shot her a cold look and followed to my new office; small, windowless, and suspiciously right across from hers. A few seconds later we were joined by a short, pale woman with tight pinned brown hair and ice-blue eyes, about our age. “This is Alyssa, she’ll get you set up.”

Several hours, and an aching back later, my mind was completely overloaded with passwords, computer systems, and file paths. Stretching, I felt the siren call of the cozy little cafe I’d spied in the lobby. Turning to Alyssa, I could read in her expression she was in the same mind frame I was. She’d proven to be easy enough to get on with, that was one victory for the day. Our backgrounds intersected in a way, she’d come from a family business as well. However, she’d sold her share of the ownership of Ironspike Industries to Noxus on her way through the door. It had been a nice payday and guaranteed her a stable career no matter what. Most would consider it a cold-blooded move, but I could get the perspective that family wasn’t always sacred. Besides, she laughed easily enough and had a comeback for every bit of banter. “Hey…”

The door flew open with a sudden violence, Samira standing behind it. “You’ve been summoned Red.” A hefty binder dropped from her arms onto my desk with a resounding thud. “It’s been requested that you escort this up to the top floor for Mr. Swain. He wants to read through it before it’s presented to the board and he has a hard-on for physical copies.”

My heart lurched as I rose from my seat. I hadn’t expected it to come this soon, meeting the CEO I’d had the gall to snap at. “Well, wish me luck Alyssa.” My voice was deadpan flat and Samira gave me an odd look. Maybe the incident hadn’t become common knowledge as I’d feared.

The elevator ride was not nearly long enough as the gilded cage ascended the final few floors to the very top of the building. I stepped out, binder held in front of me like a shield, only to realize that Samira hadn’t given directions beyond the floor. An empty receptionist’s desk stood sentinel, the occupant clearly out to lunch. Beyond it was a foyer with branching hallways. Hesitantly, I stepped forward to glance down them. “End of the center hall.”

The deep voice from nowhere caused me to jump a little. Darius, of course his office was up here too. “Thanks,” I ordered my voice to remain cool and collected.

“Let me guess, Sam neglected that bit?” He chuckled slightly. “She really wants to assert herself with you.”

“It seems a certain level of ruthlessness is the Noxian way.” Some of the tension faded. Despite the fact that he was very nearly a literal giant, Darius was much less intimidating than you would think. In fact, there was almost a warmth to him.

He shrugged. “We buy and sell other companies. We have the whole of another person’s world in our hands. It helps to keep an edge about you. Although I imagine it’s not a problem with your background.”

It would seem that everywhere I went, the Du Couteau name would haunt me. If I wasn’t outright reviled for it, I was at the very least, notorious. Father had a reputation for ruthlessness, a reputation that had been handed down the generations with the firm starting with my great-grandfather. “You’re not wrong.” Even if I was shadowed by the name, the lessons I’d been taught in the cause of that reputation ensured I could be cut-throat when necessary. His words reassured me that even if the name itself couldn’t, the legacy of it could definitely serve me here. “Catch you around Darius.” I gave him a confident smile and a wave as he headed toward the elevator.

The walk down the hall was short with no other offices present and ended in an impressively large door made of dark stained wood. Before I could give it any more thought, I quickly knocked. “Enter.” The voice from the other side sent a shiver down my spine with the combination of confidence and callousness that I recognized from the interview. Again, I couldn’t hesitate, so I obeyed the order as quickly as possible. Afternoon sun streamed in from a wall of windows across from the door, throwing the massive desk to the right into shadow. Contrary to the sleek, artistic industrial look of the rest of the building, this office had the look of a cozy personal study. High-backed chairs surrounded a table to the left, bookshelves lined the walls. The L-shaped desk was made of warm cherry wood with brass embellishments and looked like a genuine antique. “Ah, Ms. Du Couteau, we meet at last.” Looking up from his computer screen as I approached, he fixed me with a piercing gaze that I would swear could read my thoughts.

My breath rushed from my lungs. That cultured and captivating voice I knew, but the physical reality of him I hadn’t been prepared for. Elegant cheekbones and a proud nose gave him a regal bearing, but his high arched eyebrows and deep-set, midnight eyes put it under a pall of severity. The long mane of silken looking, white hair that flowed down his back could’ve offset it, if not for the scowl he was currently giving me. Overall though, his attractiveness took me by surprise, the elegant silver-fox not the visage I’d been imagining since our call. That fact critically distracted me, leaving me frozen where I was at the edge of his desk far too long. “Well, I don’t have all day.” Inwardly I cringed, what the hell was wrong with me.He motioned to the binder that I still clutched with a hand that gleamed bronze in an errant ray of sunlight that had fallen over us.

“Right.” I passed the burden into that outstretched, lustrous hand.

He all but snatched it from me. “Yes, it’s prosthetic. You could ask instead of staring.”

My eyes went wide with horror, I hadn’t realized that I had been. “My apologies, Mr. Swain.” My father’s triumphant laugh as I begged to return rang in my ears.

Turning his chair from his monitor, he dropped the binder with violence on the desk and began to thumb through it. The pace was such that it gave the impression it wasn’t the first time he’d seen it. “Did you have the opportunity to read through this?” He asked without glancing back up at me.

“No, I hadn’t.” Mercifully, my voice remained steady.

Turning it toward me, he tapped a fingernail on a paragraph. “Tell me what is wrong with this?”

Leaning down, I skimmed through it quickly, my mind translating the legal jargon without effort. At first glance, it was a contract for our purchase of yet another company. What had he seen in it? What was I looking for? Ah, it wasn’t a sentence, it was the whole paragraph. “There’s no commitment for the transition from the current leadership. They can dump and run, leaving us without support.”

“Very astute.” Well, he didn’t lose the scowl but there was a subtle note of approval in his voice. It felt like I could inhale again finally, I might still be able to salvage this. “Take it back down to Samira and tell her it will not make it to the Board this week. I want Darius to answer how that was overlooked.”

Warily, I gathered back up the binder as he sat back in his chair, on guard as though he were somehow dangerous. “Will that be all?”

“For now.” His eyes were drawn back to his monitor, and I began to turn away, sensing dismissal. “Fine enough job for the first day, Ms. Du Couteau.” The small compliment halted me mid-pivot, a small touch of warmth blooming in my stomach and a smile tugging my lips with the unexpected approval. I opened my mouth to answer, but was cut off. “Hmm, you know, this should be further reviewed. Samira already has a lot on her plate. Let her know that you’ll be taking the lead on this for the department. Darius will bring you up to speed.”

The world around me spun. Take that Father, I’m already getting the recognition I had to scrape and fight for every day with you, even when I’d accomplished something. “Will do, Mr. Swain.”

I strode from his office, feeling at the summit of the world, but a curious sensation of butterflies filled my stomach. As the door shut behind me, I let myself smile wide. I’d done it, sufficiently impressed him, the CEO with the ruthless reputation, the known hardass, the man with...with those captivating dark eyes. “Reign it in Kat.” Furiously I whispered to myself. “You’re engaged and you’ve seen attractive men before.” My mind betrayed me though, flooding me with the sensation of having those eyes focused on me as I walked.

Silently lecturing myself, I headed back to the elevator. The sudden vibration of my phone from my jacket pocket shook me from the cycle of my thoughts. Pulling it out, the notification seemed there just to judge me, Garen’s smiling face poised next to it. “Hey dear, how’s that first day going?”

[achanceofprecipisatan]

A picturesque score of passing fantasy

Aka I listen to Afycso and get write.

Brendon-

He knew he had fucked up from the start. She had been perfect, too perfect. She had been his queen, and though the courtship was temporary, it was memorable.

He still felt her: her black skirt brushing against him in the wind, the lace itching; her lips on his neck, leaving love notes in the form of lipstick stains; her breath brushing his hair, dancing past his ear.

She was still there, still his, if he could only pretend. Her laugh was easily conjured and the smell of smoke came to him as easily as his own name.

What did that say about her, the laugh and the smoke? Her laugh was full of life, love. The sort of laugh you couldn’t help. Her cigarette was long and strong and she would hold it between two painted nails, and he would watch it cautiously, as though he could see it tallying down her days.

She had been everything he ever wanted, every love song he’d ever heard come to live. It had meant nothing and everything. Permanent and fallible. She was the delicate and beautiful petals of a perilous rose that drew blood if picked.

He thought of marriage vows, whispered illicitly in the back of a red convertible. To death do us part. It had come true.

Snow white, was it? Who slept like the dead and was wakened by a kiss? He’d tried that, her pale lips no longer tasting of nicotine. She hadn’t woken up.

They were forever in a way, and never even fought. They had been flawless. They had been flawless.

Ryan-

Bright lights. The kind of lights that make you want to shut your eyes tight and even then you can still see them. They flashed in all the colours of the rainbow, a sort of angry pride — but a pointless one.

There were noises too, songs, melodies he couldn’t quite place and familiar notes that escaped his mind whenever he tried to grasp them.

He stopped trying. He gave in to the waves of emotions the sounds conjured. The highs they pulled from him, the lows they got him through.

He knew, somewhere, in the back of his mind, that none of this was real. That it was his own mind playing tricks and twisting the world around him. He didn’t care.

He’d been trying to forget something, perhaps someone, and he’d taken it a little too far and now here he was. Lying on a floor he couldn’t feel, having relinquished the ability to get up.

It was a hazy party, the dancers were spirits blurring the lines of reality and fiction. What were his dreams and what was tangible? It didn’t really matter. Nothing mattered.

The songs kept playing their perfect tunes, and he knew intrinsically that this was fleeting and all the knowledge he found he had gained would once again be lost. It was a perfection at a cost. A momentary relapse into impossible daydream.

Whatever would become of him? Who would find him, here, soaring through the impermanent sky. What would they think? Who would they blame?

He still didn’t care.

Jon-

If this was movie, he would know what was going on, because all of his encounters would fit with the soundtrack, and all of his emotions would be accompanied with a song that represented them. His actions would not be his own but catered to his predestined story, told in 4/4 time.

If this was a movie, he would at least know where he was right now, and whether this was the best or the worst of it. For what comes up must eventually come down — a crescendo either falls or ends.

He wanted the worst to be over, and all of the bad bits to be merely dreams he could disregard as though they were simply illusions.

It wasn’t a movie though, it was horrifyingly real, he couldn’t trust his visions, or his songs. They were not hallucinations thought up by a creative director, they were his free will. Which was really not all that free.

That was one of the reasons he loved music, he could pretend they were what he was meant to feel. They validated him, and confirmed that each tale would soon be gone. He just needed to carry on.

He also loved them because all of the stories were contained. In a song, an album, a band. They might have been based on reality but he could just skip it, end it, and it would be over. He could manipulate this miniature world of misery and unfortunate love.

They were each beautiful little fairytales. All wrapped up with bows on. Pretty and perfect and oh so evanescent.

Spencer-

He was asleep, tucked into bed with his head on his pillow and his fists pulling at the duvet. Tossing and turning in the night, whimpering at the silent shadows.

He was also in a twisted allusion of glamour. A post-famous self-delusion. Everything he knew to be true he had found false. He was the antithesis of everything he stood for, and he saw no way out of his new life.

He didn’t know to indulge in the fame while he could, until he woke from the dreamland. He didn’t realise how fleeting all he held dear was, so he questioned its morality.

Maybe it was difficult to see all of your beliefs shattered like that, see the downside to the grandeur. All he ever wanted now forever tainted.

It really was all he had ever wanted, each wish made in passing come true. By god, though, it was impossible to live like that. He regretted it all.

He was screaming, crying, begging, for it all to stop. Oblivious to his bed and sheets. Would he have still wished for it to end if he knew that, too, would come to pass? Would he have wanted an out if he knew it was already all in his head?