#how much more interesting would it have been if you could really work at the relationship to let them know they're not alone

[chiclet-go-boom]

Okay, I just.. I can't help myself. This brought me So Back To Ye Olden Times, I could almost cry.

Once upon a time, there was some sort of.. I'm gonna say challenge in the fanfiction Yahoo group I was in at the time. We had to, uh, "interview" one of our original characters and submit it to the group for schizz and fun.

Jade Szano, commonly called Jady, was my contribution to the general gestalt and heavily involved in this large, convoluted collab fic I was writing with someone (large -- jesus christ it was large, cast of dozens being wangled by me and my good girl Samantha in a back and forth race to get somewhere before the whole fic collapsed under its own weight). She was so much my original character that all my old contacts were under a portmanteau of my main psudeonym at the time and hers.

So I wrote my interview. And even now, billions of years later, it still makes me laugh to read it.

So! Without further ado, a blast from ye old fanfiction past. We did this, people. And we really enjoyed it.

________

I'm trying to write, but it's not working. Lunch hour, and nearly half of it gone and she hasn't shown up. Hunch over my pen, stare at the wandering scribble in my notebook, the almost-but-not-quite things in the margins that aren't even good enough to call doodles. When the hell is she going to get here? Or more to the point - is she even coming?

Oh damn it. How'm I going to explain that I couldn't do this, because she never showed up and it's not my fault anyways? Just like her to get distracted with something else and leave me hanging high and dry, with empty hands and a sick grin.

Mash my pencil into the notebook, but it doesn't really help and behind the counter Heather is looking at me funny. I don't normally growl at my notebook.

Hastily swallow some more coffee and take another surreptitious look at the clock. She'd better get here. Or I swear, I'm going to write her into a nasty spot that she'll never be able to get out of without some serious kowtowing.

And just like that, she swings in through the door. Tall, spiky haired blonde, you can smell the sass a mile away. She's grinning at me as she hits the chair opposite, immediately reaching out to my half eaten sandwich. Snags the pickle before I can stop her.

"Hey beautiful," she says. "Miss me?".

'You're late," I snap at her, a little annoyed. A little panicked because now I only have twenty minutes out of my lunch hour left. She quirks an eyebrow but doesn't bother looking for the clock.

"You're right. Gonna take me home and spank me?"

"You'd enjoy it too much." Try and maintain the glare, rocking my chair back on two legs, but it's about as effective as rain on a hot griddle. She chews the pickle thoughtfully, her long fingers a little distracting as she licks them. Finally, she nods her agreement.

"Yeah, probably would. So girl… whatchu want? Got your message on the machine this morning and came right along. Talk dirty to me sweetheart, because I gotta date across town in an hour that I don't wanna miss."

"Jade… "

"Yep. You rang, massah?"

"Quit it. Look, just stop looking at me like that, and help me out, okay? I gotta write something about you, and I'm stuck. I wanna impress Buffy and you're the closest thing I have to interesting."

"Ouch. Je-sus, you really know how to kill a moment. I thought you liked me." She's grinning though, leaf green eyes appraising not only me, but the tables behind me, the people at the tables, the girl behind the counter, the value of the paintings on the wall and no doubt how much change is in the till. I don't think she's ever been here before and I spare a moment to thank god it's too small time to tempt her instincts. Last thing I need is to get kicked out of my favorite watering hole because she can't keep her fingers from wandering.

"Yeah, I like you, I don't have a choice. I made you after all. Now pay attention." Pull my notebook closer, flip to a clean page. "First thing you can do to earn some brownie points is to tell me something interesting about yourself."

"Interesting?" She leans forward but this time I pull my sandwich out of the way before she grabs the tomato peeking out. "Shit girl, I'm too damned busy to do anything interesting. Besides, I got my own problems at the moment." She leans back and gives me a curious stare. "What's gotten you so fired up about this Buffy person anyways?"

"I don't know," I confess miserably, "but I wanted to give her a present. She's never really met you; I figured you two might like each other."

"Buffy… Buffy… I know this name…" She stares over my shoulder for a brief moment, before suddenly snapping her fingers. "Ah! Got it. Zmei's pet girl. I met him once, you know." She's got a misty eyed look on her face that I immediately distrust. "It was a bar, I was supposed to meet someone there. Some ape in a human suit tried to put the moves on and I ended up dusting the bar with him and his seven pals. I think Zmei came in on the tail end of that, made himself useful." She grins again and leans forward conspiratorially. "He's a nice tail too, if you get my drift."

Wince at the purely lavicious tone she's using and wonder if I can strike that from the record. Just what I need, Snake and his 'pet girl' chasing me down and pinning me to the wall with my own pencils.

"I think he's got a girlfriend, Jade." Maybe I can head this one off at the pass.

"That's okay," she purrs back. "She can watch if she likes."

Oh shit. Glance at the clock. Oh hell, only ten minutes left.

"Uh … can we talk about something other than your fantasy love life? I'm sure it's interesting and all, but Zmei might be reading this too, you know. And the voyeur girlfriend."

"Shit. You think? Okay… " She reaches out and taps my notebook hard with a forefinger, drawing my attention back to the blank page. "Take a letter." I blink but fumble for my pencil anyways. I never did get that shorthand book that Cricket was talking about, but who the hell knows, maybe I'll suddenly discover an aptitude for it. She scratches her chin for a moment and stares off into space.

"Dear Zmei…."

"JADE…!"

"Shaddup. This'll be good. Dear Zmei…." She waits until I slowly write that down. "This letter is to inform you that I, the party of the first part…You got that yet?… first part…. Okay. Party of the first part, namely me, Jade Szano, Esquire, The Third, Mistress of All I Survey… no girl, Mistress is heavy on the S's, add a couple more in. Do hereby challenge you and your wussy ass girlfriend… HEY!"

Damn she's fast. Plucks the thrown pencil out of the air with an ease that could scare me under other circumstances.

"What? You don't like my letter?"

Grind my teeth together. "Jady, you are a pain in the ass." She smirks at me, and if I had another pencil, trust me, I'd sacrifice that one too in an attempt to bury it between her eyes. "I can't write that, Buffy will kill me. Right after she laughs herself to death."

"This affects me how?"

"For god's sake Jady, Zmei's a freaking assassin, okay? Does that whole ninja sneaky thing and you'll wake up with a knife to your throat and several hours of begging ahead of you. I just got comfortable with you! I don't wanna have to bury your carcass in an unmarked grave and go train another one."

She has the grace to look a little uncomfortable. Runs a hand through the short spikes of her hair and wrinkles her nose at me for a moment.

"Okay, you got a point. Even if the begging part sounds sort of fun." I know I'm boggling at her but she's not paying attention anymore, leaning back in her chair to stare out the window over my shoulder, nibbling on a slice of tomato. "No point pissing off the assassin if you don't have to. Do you think maybe your Buffy friend would be interested in hearing how much I hate Uzi's?"

Give her a frown as I grab the eraser and start getting rid of that incriminating letter, holding the paper so it doesn't tear. "Since when do you hate Uzi's? I thought you liked guns."

I've got my head down but I can hear the snort perfectly well. "Guns, sure but an Uzi ain't a gun. Its a mowing machine. At least, it is when it fucking works."

Look up because that was a hell of a growl. Look at her. Look at the slice of tomato. Check my sandwich.

Bitch.

Slowly, ever so slowly, close the notebook. She's got the pencil so I guess I'm not writing anything anyways.

"No. I don't think Buffy would care about your Uzi issues. And since you were so involved in your uninteresting life as to be late, now I have no more time on my lunch hour and have to go back to work."

"Damn. And here I was, just getting into the swing of things. You sure you don't wanna take a letter? Maybe some poetry would impress him…."

Smile sweetly at her, reach out and snag the last bite of tomato from between her fingers. "No. Not a chance. No way, José. You wanna write bad poetry to a guy you only met once in a bar fight…"

"Hey, there were ten of 'em and one of them was a real mutant!…"

Ignore her and keep ploughing forward, "…who probably eats larcenous thieves like you for lunch…."

"I am not larcenous. Go wash your mouth out with soap."

"….and who probably had to bail you out of a fight with two sewer rats and a mangy dog in a back alley at least three blocks away from a bar in any direction."

Pop the tomato bit in my mouth and chew determinedly. So its a little rubbery… it was part of my damn sandwich, thank you very much.

She looks at me, and there's crooked laughter deep in her eyes.

"There were three. Sewer rats. They were the size of small alligators and I held my own, damn it."

Stand up and stuff my notebook in my bag. Hold out my hand wordlessly and after a moment she puts the pencil in it. Tucks that away as well. Look back at her across the table and wish, once more, that I was more like her.

"…Two. I'll give you a dog with most of its teeth intact."

She stands up and puts out her hand. "Deal."

We shake hands and her grip is firm in mine.

"See you later?" she asks, a peace offering.

"Sure." Give her a small smile back, because it's not her fault she's this way. And at least she came. Late, but she remembered. "I'll let you throw an Uzi at Joe's head if you like."

She flashes me that kilowatt smile and turns to the door, with me bringing up the rear of the parade. "Sounds like fun."

God help us both… it actually does.

I love AO3. I really, truly do. But at the same time, it reminds me that fanfic had a very different feel back in the day… in the late 1990s and early 2000s.

We didn't so much promote our stories as we traded them like literary contraband, handing them out in the back alleys of newsboards and forums and LiveJournal to be gobbled up by the desperate, starving masses. Sometimes you wouldn't post them, you would simply mention that you had written them; and when someone asked to see your story you would send them an email with the creation copy-pasted within. Those of us who had our own Geocities or Angelfire websites would make elaborate pages for each story, setting the background and font color to match what we felt the fic evoked, and of course adding pictures that we had slapped together in Photoshop for flavor.

When FFnet came along, we eagerly thrust our creations into its algorithm, like birds shoving their babies out of the nest; then we held our breath and waited to see if anyone cared enough to make a comment before our stories slipped into the depths of the pit, never to be seen or read again. And the tingle we felt in our chests when someone did finally comment left us on a high for hours or even days.

There were annual fanfiction awards for some fandoms, and if you won any category at all you would wear that award proudly... a badge of honor to be displayed in your forum signature or FFnet profile. But really, the ultimate honor was when someone did fan art of your stories and posted it on DeviantArt or LJ, and you would hold on to that picture like a child clinging to a favorite teddy bear.

More often than not, the people you knew in real life weren't aware of what you did with your spare time, and you would have died of embarrassment if they ever found out. In general, you stayed in your lane, keeping other fandoms out of your business, except for the occasional crossover (which came with the added complication of having to choose which fandom to post them under on FFnet). We didn't have beta readers... hell, sometimes we didn't edit at all. Grammar and spelling mattered less than your passion for the subject, and research was conducted somewhat haphazardly, to the point where any anachronisms were shrugged off. Still, OOC characters were raked thoroughly across the coals; questioned and poked until the author explained why they had written them that way.

The tropes and cliches that people now cringe at were created then, embraced wholeheartedly. Mary Sues and self-inserts and songfics were everywhere… and we loved it. Authors would interrupt their own stories in the middle to add notes, sometimes presented as the characters themselves giving you information about what was going on in the story or what led the author to add this or that small detail.

We were afraid of being copyright claimed, we were afraid of being ridiculed, we were afraid of being sued by Anne Rice (even if we didn't write anything that took place in her universe). We felt rebellious, accomplished, and maybe a little guilty about what we wrote; but we wrote it because we loved it, and that was enough.

As I said, I really do love AO3… but there was just such a culture surrounding fanfic back then… a kinship and a sisterhood. I wish that those who have never gotten to experience it could have the chance to go back for a while, feel the way it felt… same as I wish my own kids could have experienced the freedom of summer vacation back when summer vacation meant freedom.

The world is just too fast now, the internet too loud; you have to run to catch up, scream to be heard... when sometimes all you want to do is whisper, "Hey… I wrote something… does anyone want to take a look?" and to have someone whisper back, "Yes! Send it to me and I'll print it out to read in bed tonight!"

[kitimeq]

⋆.˚✮ thunderstruck 🤍 xavier 星回 ✮˚.⋆

⋆.˚✮pairing: bad boy/punk xavier x reader

⋆.˚✮word count: 6.2k

⋆.˚✮summary: popular among girls, distant and intimidating troublemaker—that’s how others saw him. gentle, charming and intelligent boy, who had no idea what personal space was—that’s how you knew him. and although the truth lied somewhere in between, one thing was certain: xavier would do anything to finally make you his. starting with asking you out, of course.

⋆.˚✮tags: bad boy xavier, punk xavier, college setting, kinda meet cute, but more like talking to each other for the first time cute, self-confident xavier, but also shy xavier, the duality of this man is insane, he has TATTOOS, and PIERCING, and he’s so djbdgdsb yess yess, i did it for myself i’m sorry, smoker xavier, but not for long hehehihi, he’s a gentleman, and totally whipped, like, absolutely whipped for the reader, sfw, yet!! if i continue it it would turn mdni for sure.

please let me know if u liked it and if u would be interested in reading more <33

“Aaaand he’s looking at you again.” Simone snapped you out of your thoughts, making your fingers stop their frantic movements over the keyboard. The two of you were sitting at the campus café, desperate to finish your assignments as quickly as you possibly could, thinking that each other’s company and your favorite sweet drinks might make the work at least a little bit more enjoyable.

And it actually worked—you were almost done with your essay, and judging by your friend’s relaxed posture and the fact that she had time to observe her surroundings, she must’ve finished hers too.

“Hmm? Who?” You asked with a small smile, noticing how the cream from her coffee sat above her upper lip, creating the illusion of a thin mustache and making her look like a cute little detective. You pulled out a napkin from the holder and brought it to her lips, muffling her next words in the process.

“Xavier, that punk guy who—oh, thank you, baby, it always makes me look like Freddie Mercury—who studies some kind of engineering.” You laughed softly at her added comment and placed the dirty napkin on your small, empty plate. “Girl, you heard what I said? Xavier. That Xavier has literally been drilling a hole in your head for the past hour or so, with those sexy—like, dangerously sexy—eyes of his. And that—that piercing—and, and, you know what? You don’t seem concerned in the slightest, what if he’s like, mad at you or something? He always looks kinda scary. Sexy-scary, but still.” The last sentence said in a whisper, and you snorted, picking up your iced drink and taking a slow sip.

“Oookay, I think I’ve heard enough.” You laughed and shook your head, one hand returning to the keyboard to save your file. “He’s not mad at me. I know him. If he’s looking our way, he probably recognized me, but is too shy to say hi.” You finished your drink with not-so-quiet slurp, your lips immediately letting go of the straw as you looked around bashfully, hoping no one had noticed.

“Too shy? Have you lost your mind? Or are there more scary-looking Xaviers around campus that I don’t know about?” She leaned forward, lowering her voice, and you closed your laptop with a sigh. You didn’t like that she called him scary, you always thought his usual pout, scowl or mask of indifference made him look kinda cute.

You checked the time on your phone and noticed that one of your electives was starting in 20 minutes—if you wanted to be there on time, you’d have to leave in a second.

“Besides, you know him? Since when?”

“Remember that one poetry elective I had to take last semester? We had a group project as the final assignment, and he was part of my group.” You watched with amusement as her mouth opened in shock, her brows furrowing. “And he’s actually really sweet. And smart, too, just not that much of a talker.” You shrugged, your eyes dropping as you remembered how the other group members had acted toward him back then.

How they talked behind his back, assuming he wouldn’t do his part of the project. How they doubted his abilities and overall academic competence as a conversation starter when he was sometimes late to meetings—and how quiet and reserved they became when he finally joined you.

You quickly got angry on his behalf, knowing that he had never been rude or disrespectful to any of you, and every single task he was assigned was sent to the group chat just a couple hours later. The fact that they treated him that way because of some rumor about him being a troublemaker, and his eye-catching, rough appearance, was what made you finally speak up.

“—He’s kind of a lost cause. He wouldn’t finish it anyway. What a guy like him can know about poetry? I’m surprised he can read at all.” One of the guys from the group commented again, taking advantage of Xavier’s absence. The meeting had just started, and you were sure he would come—just a tad bit later. You always assumed he had a class beforehand, but he never said anything when he realized that this particular hour suited the rest of you best.

He was always like this, you’d noticed it some time ago. He never wanted to cause any issues, always silently accepting and diligently working on whatever task was assigned to him. And yet, at nearly every meeting, he was dragged under the bus before he even had a chance to show up.

Their reactions surprised you a lot. You didn’t know Xavier personally before, but you knew of him, it was hard not to. He had a reputation as a reserved troublemaker and was extremely popular among girls, who seemed to try asking him out— or at least getting a good make-out session—probably every day, always without success. Ironically, that only made him a more intriguing target. He had the face of an angel, a body decorated like a fallen one, and the physique of an athlete, all on top of being seemingly unobtainable. Girls were totally head over heels for him, which actually made you pity him, knowing how much unwanted attention it probably brought.

And although he was pretty introverted and a little rough around the edges, people generally seemed to like him. He was intimidating, and he spoke his mind surely, but he didn’t seem like someone who went around looking for a fight. Within your project group, he was usually quiet and cooperative, which is why you couldn’t understand why they were suddenly being so harsh toward him.

That’s why on that day, you finally snapped.

“Oh, shut up, Matt. What do you know about poetry anyway? Most of us are here just because it fit our schedules.” You stood up from the table in the park, your designated meeting place, your hands pressing firmly against the polished wood. You couldn’t listen to Xavier being dragged anymore, judged solely on his appearance, when you knew he was actually quite engaged in the project. “And yes, maybe he’s a little late sometimes but he always shows up, and does the work perfectly. Besides, he’s never been rude to any of you, so I don’t understand why you’re always so awful to him.” Your face, and the slightly harsher edge to your voice, betrayed your annoyance, but you had finally lost the patience to care about their opinion of you.

Some of the girls who had been too afraid to speak up smiled at you encouragingly, while the main bully just shrugged, looking up at you nonchalantly with one arm draped over the back of the chair beside him.

“He looks like bad news. And gets on my nerves.” He answered simply, and if you weren’t red from anger before, you sure were now. “And he probably sells drugs or some—”

“And you look like a complete asshole right now.” You snapped, already frantically stuffing your notes into your bag. You refused to hear any more of this, not about a boy who had literally done nothing wrong to deserve such harsh words every time you met. “And you shouldn’t fucking care what he looks like. From what we know, he’s hard-working and smart, and he definitely has feelings, too. He deserves basic human respect, don’t you think?” You slung your bag over your shoulder and shot the guy another glare, completely ignoring their stares—which were definitely no longer aimed at you—and the quiet shadow that had appeared behind you some time ago. “I’ll send you the file by the end of the week. I won’t sit around, wasting time with someone who’d rather talk shit than do actual work. Now, if you’ll excuse m—”

Bump.

Your body bounced off a hard chest clad in a leather jacked, and by the time strong, tattooed hands gently grabbed your shoulders to steady you, you were already blushing.

Because Xavier was right there behind you. For God knows how long.

You snapped your head up, your panicked eyes meeting his deep blues—calm, gentle and understanding— as he continued to hold your shoulders, even though he must’ve know you had already gained your balance. You studied him for a moment: his longish hair, a mullet peeking out from the leather collar of his jacket, and ears adorned with various piercings. Your gaze drifted to his lips, drawn absentmindedly to the small silver ring on the side of his bottom lip, which he was now biting slightly.

Oh, God. Oh, God, oh, God, oh, God, oh, God—

“S—Sorry, I was just—leaving—” You said quickly, your eyes suddenly finding the grass fascinating. You could still feel the warmth of his hands lingering on your shoulders, along with the fresh, calming scent of a fabric softener mixed with something so uniquely comforting—

“I’ll walk you home, then.” His hands traveled slowly down your arms before he let go, your cheeks burning as you avoided his gaze at all costs. It was probably the first time he had spoken to you directly, spoken to any of you directly, really. His soft voice was usually directed at no one in particular, offering sparse but meaningful comments during your brainstorming sessions.

How much had he heard? Was he angry? He didn’t look angry. Why did he want to walk you home? He never walked any of you home.

“No! I mean, no—no, thank you, that’s so nice of you, Xavier, really, but I live pretty close by. You shouldn’t bother.” He adjusted the strap of his bag on his shoulder, and you noticed him turning his head toward the others.

“I could never be bothered by—Did you just fucking roll your eyes at her?” His calm voice suddenly turned cold, the tone not raised, but much sharper. Your head turned to the person he was now staring at, and you saw Matt’s eyes widen. “I asked you a fucking question. Did you roll your eyes at her?”

“And if I did then what are you going to do? Beat me up?”

“Wow, really Matt? You’re such a child.” You turned to him fully, but an arm blocked your way, an intricate tattoo depicting the moon cycle peeking from one rolled up sleeve.

“Apologize to her and you won’t have to find out.” You looked up at Xavier and almost smiled, noticing how the role of protector had flipped. But the intense stare he used to size up the annoying colleague made the hairs on the back of your nape stand on end. He sure looked intimidating when he wanted to. “I said, apologize.”

And when the silence began to stretch, and Xavier took a deliberate step forward, you grabbed his bicep, surprisingly firm and muscular, oh wow, and started to lead him away, afraid the conversation would turn sour in a matter of seconds.

Letting him walk you home wasn’t such a bad idea after all, you decided, feeling the sweat nearly drip from your temple.

“Wait, he didn’t apologize to you yet, and I won’t let him get away until he does.” You heard Xavier’s voice a step behind you but decided to continue your path, until you reached a safer distance.

“It’s okay. I’m not accepting apologies from ignorant jerks, anyway.” You heard a soft huff of laughter from him, and your lips curved into a small smile. Your steps slowed a moment later, and you took a deep breath, watching the clouds drift slowly across the sky while the gentle wind eased the burn of your cheeks. “Were you really planning to fight him?”

He was walking beside you now, your hand no longer holding his arm, and when you finally looked his way, you were startled to find him already watching you.

You could understand why people were wary of him—when he was right there beside you, his overall size was pretty intimidating. He towered over you an impressive amount of inches, and his body type, which you used to think was rather lanky, turned out to be more on the athletic side. With his lip and ear piercings, and now, clearly, an eyebrow piercing too, two small dots on either side of his eyebrow, paired with several tattoos on his hands and his rather muted wardrobe choice, he could raise some concerns.

Could, but didn’t have to. Not when his eyes were so gentle and kind, looking at you as if you had hung all the stars in the sky. To you, he looked like a prince: gentle features, silky-soft hair and a graceful stance that made him, ironically, the least intimidating person you’d met. It actually struck you how handsome he was, too. Much more handsome up close than from the distance, your heart fluttered nervously.

“Hmm. He disrespected you so, yes. Probably. It’s better to let him think I would. I usually don’t start fights.” Was his answer, his steps matching your pace, heavy, black combat boots stepping silently beside your white sneakers. You felt a tug at your arm, and before you could protest, he started carrying your handbag along his. All your protests died in your throat the moment he looked at you and shook his head. Message received. “I only end them.” Xavier added like an afterthought, and it didn’t sound like bragging but more like stating a fact. You laughed quietly and nodded, unsure what to say as your mind drifted back to the events from moments ago.

“I’m sorry for—”

“Thank you—”

You both started to speak at the same time and quickly stopped, a nervous laugh escaping from you. You looked at him again and noticed that his eyes were crinkled at the corners too. He adjusted his handbag on his shoulder and cleared his throat.

“Forgive me, but I’ll start. Because you have nothing to apologize for.” A sigh left your lips, and you started playing with your fingers, his answer easing your worries. He looked straight ahead when he spoke again. “I heard what you said to them. How you protected me. You didn’t have to do that.”

“No, I did. It wasn’t the first time they said such things and I should’ve spoken my mind much, much sooner.” You started speaking, annoyed again, the nearly forgotten rage rising inside you once more. “You were nothing short of helpful and kind to us and it was a pleasure to work with you! I just couldn’t listen to him spouting nonsense anymore.”

And when you tried to meet his eyes again, you noticed the tips of his ears were red.

“It was a pleasure to work with you, too.” His voice like a balm to your irritation, every single second spent in his presence confirming your beliefs about him being a secret sweetheart. “But I’m used to people taking shit about me, actually. And I really don’t care what they think.”

“Well, it’s good. You shouldn’t.” His lip piercing caught your eye again, and you decided it suit him very well. You also noticed that you had slowed down, but this time you were matching the pace he set. “But it doesn’t make it fine. So next time, stand up for yourself too, okay? You were quick to do that for me, so it shouldn’t be much of a problem to treat yourself with the same kindness, right?”

Xavier’s eyes suddenly met yours, his mouth opening and closing slightly as if he couldn’t find the right words to say. The tips of his ears were red, and he put a hand behind his back, stroking at the skin lightly, nervously.

“Mhm. Right.” His eyes drifted to your face, studying it intently. You found his gaze extremely intense, peeking from behind his silver strands, but you didn’t mind. His presence was actually very calming, both his voice and body language relaxed and almost dreamy-like.

Xavier stopped suddenly, making you wonder if he had forgotten something, or if your conversation was over, and he was about to return your bag and head his own way. Instead, he leaned toward you, took your hand in his—his touch feather-light, your fingers cradled gently in his—and he brought it up to his lips.

A kiss. Gentle one, but lingering, pressed just below your knuckles. You felt the warmth of his lips and the cool touch of the metal ring against your skin, and you swallowed hard the moment he opened his eyes and looked straight at you.

And it was a look you would reminisce about for weeks to come, because of how seen you felt right in that very moment. The clouds continued their never-ending journey across the sky, and the birds chirped a melody to which you were usually unaware. A look resembling a full conversation. A look holding meaning, one that you weren’t sure you were able to grasp yet.

“Thank you, my sweet little knight.” He whispered against your skin, and you gulped, your heart racing, mind blanking for a short while. “It seems I gained my own guardian angel today.” And when you saw how genuine he was, your body melted into his touch completely, your chest swelling with the quiet pride of knowing you did something good today.

“Anytime, princess.”

And when your ears caught his sudden, bubbly laugh, short canines on full display, that seemed to surprise even him, you didn’t let it become forgotten for the months to come, keeping the sound close to your heart.

You remembered the first day you actually talked to each other other and smiled softly; the walk home filled with interesting stories and shared laughter, the intimidating bubble he’d once seemed trapped in popped the moment you spent real time with him, leaving only the image of a sweet gentleman behind.

It wasn’t the only time you talked either, although after the elective course had ended your ways parted completely: your interactions scarce and happening usually when you were in a rush, or already late, to your classes.

A smile on your lips, followed by a happy wave of your hand met with the surprised, gentle spark in his eyes, and you were already gone.

There were only a handful of times you’d managed to exchange a word or two—usually while waiting in line at the coffee machine, with him asking about your major and interests, or when you were passing by him in the library, where you’d quickly complimented his new tattoo: a constellation on his forearm, still covered by a piece of second skin.

Quick, fleeting interactions; nothing more.

However, you found yourself thinking about him sometimes. About his melodic voice, a gentleness serving a sharp contrast to how rough he could’ve seemed to others. His soft hair, how you wondered what it would feel like to bury your fingers in it and stroke the strands gently. His lean but muscular build, his strong arms adorned with ink—art so majestic you found it hard to look away sometimes, your mind wandering, wondering if he had more tattoos on other parts of his body, and if so, where would they be hidden? And what would they depict?

His lips, soft pink hue, decorated with a silver ring, the coolness of which you already felt when he kissed your hand that day. And on the most desperate of nights, you let your mind imagine how it would feel pressed against your lips.

You shook your head, the thoughts unwanted and totally unnecessary, knowing that it was just a fleeting acquaintance. You couldn’t like him that way, because you knew that you surely weren’t his type at all. You weren’t even sure why your mind started thinking about him in such a way, your type being usually the complete opposite. But you guessed that it was just because of how charming he was, how clever and funny, how awkward at times. How kind to you. And how absolutely gorgeous his eyes were—always looking at you with patience and an interesting kind of wonder.

It didn’t matter. You were only colleagues, and he was too popular and too different from you to actually be interested. So, you stopped thinking about it some time ago.

“‘Not that much of a talker,’ she says. I never—never!—heard him talk. And I had few electives with him, mind you.” The voice of your friend brought you back from wonderland. You decided not to answer anything to that, thinking that if you told her that he was the one who usually initiated conversations with you, she would probably have a stroke. “You are one lucky girl. You have your own guard dog now.”

“Yeah. Maybe.” You answered absentmindedly, not liking that label. “Or the other way around. I can be feisty.” You imitated shooting from your finger guns, and she laughed, raising her almost empty cup.

“Cheers to that!” You raised your empty cup too while throwing your laptop into your bag. “He’s still staring by the way. Hasn’t really stopped since I noticed. It would be really creepy if he wasn’t that handsome.” You snorted, zipping up your bag and looking down at your phone.

“I told you, he probably just wants to say—Oh, shit! Gotta go! The classes start in 10 and I mixed up the buildings again!”

“Oh, shoot, is that the one at the end of—?” You nodded frantically and she waved her hand dismissively. “Go! I’ll take care of your cup, see you later!” You quickly went to her and hugged her, pressing a quick kiss to her cheek before practically flying out of the café, completely forgetting to send Xavier a small wave on your way out, if he really was sitting somewhere behind you.

That’s why you also missed how abruptly he stood the moment you bolted for the door—wanting to chase after you, but stoping himself when he realized you didn’t even have time for a small talk. He should’ve approached you sooner, should’ve spoken to you the moment he saw you, instead of just sitting there, desperately trying to catch a glimpse of your angelic smile.

He wondered when did he loose his balls, when even the simple idea of talking to you made his heart flutter nervously, his hands automatically reaching to scratch at the ink submerged in his skin. He was pathetic, and it was really starting to get on his nerves.

And at that moment his eyes locked with those of your friend, her lips slowly curling into a knowing smile as she caught him almost running after you. She wiggled her eyebrows at him, and in that instant he finally decided to stop being a coward.

He couldn’t bear the thought of not seeing you everyday anymore.

He grabbed his bag and started walking purposely to the place which you occupied only moments before. He needed information and he would get it, even if he would have to beg for it.

“Oho. I knew it.” Your friend said, seconds before he even managed to introduce himself.

And he realized that he’d known it too. Almost from the moment he first saw you.

You were exhausted to say the least.

Your classes dragged on, making your head hurt from staring at the constantly changing slides. Your whole body felt sore, and you stretched the moment you reached the lockers—arms raised, back arched, a moan almost escaping your lips.

Your poor legs practically begged for the short trip back to your apartment, if the slight numbness in them wasn’t already enough of a sign of stagnation.

You opened your eyes lazily and turned the key in your locker, wanting to gather your things as quickly as possible and finally see the light of day.

“Hey.” A low greeting from right behind you made you spin around too quickly, your back bumping against the locker. It startled you when you noticed how close he was standing, towering over you.

Xavier.

In all his tattooed glory, hair unruly as always, and his pretty eyes boring straight into yours. He hissed when you made contact with the locker, his large hand immediately coming to rest on the back of your head, gently caressing it, afraid you had taken the hit. You blushed, the contact sudden and unexpected, his body possibly closer to yours than ever before.

“Are you okay?” The hand on the back of your head slid down slightly, now resting on the nape of your neck. The hold was gentle, intimate. You wondered if he realized it. “I didn’t mean to scare you, I’m sorry.” His thumb stroked the skin on your neck, and your cheeks caught fire.

You gulped and shook your head, sighing as the tension in your shoulders eased when you saw his familiar face.

“It’s okay. I’m not hurt, and I didn’t hit my head, so don’t worry.” His expression visibly shifted, relief written all over his face. But his hand didn’t leave your neck. “Sorry, hi. Hi. I just didn’t expect you here.” You didn’t expect anyone really, it was already late for classes and if any were to take place, everyone would already be inside classrooms.

His presence was especially puzzling, it wasn’t even his faculty, did he had another elective here?

“I wanted to see you.” Straightforward answer, as usual. You send him a small smile, thinking back to earlier when you almost met at the café; if it hadn’t been for you being in such a hurry. He must’ve felt bad for not coming up to you, especially since he probably waited for you to finish your classes. But why did he care so much? “And I was actually thinking… Hoping that…” His hand slid away from the back of your neck and began playing absentmindedly with a strand of your hair, while you struggled to keep the blush from darkening your cheeks even further.

He was so close. Too close. You could almost feel his breath warming up your face and see your reflection staring back from the little silver dots in his eyebrow. An inch or two more, and you were sure his hair would brush your forehead, given how much he was leaning into your space.

But he was always like this whenever you two crossed paths—his body leaning in too close to be just friendly, paying no mind to your personal space. His hands were also always reaching out for you as if he couldn’t help it: fixing the hair that fell into your face, stroking your arm, or even occasionally brushing your nose with his knuckle when you said something that made him chuckle.

You thought this was his way of being friendly and you enjoyed it, ignoring the fact that it only seemed to fuel your silly little crush. Besides, you found it very endearing that he was so distant and cold with others, yet so touchy-feely with the ones he liked. It made you feel special, if not a little hopeful.

And that’s when the sharp smell hit you, a cigarette smoke mixed with his pleasant, soft cologne. You scrunched up your nose and pressed a hand against his chest to create some more distance between you.

“Oof, you smoked again.” You couldn’t help but comment, seeing his brows furrowing in confusion upon your slight push of his chest.

“You can still smell it? I even got some gum.” To prove his point, he blew a small bubble from his lips, a minty scent reaching your nose when he popped it a second later, the corners of his lips lifting in a small, proud smirk.

“It’s all over your clothes, Xavier. The smoke seeped right into them. You need a bath, not a gum.” Quiet, unserious little “ouch” left his lips, and you tugged at his black sweatshirt, only now noticing a small cat plushie hanging from one of his sleeves.

So cute. You loved that accent, your finger going to poke at the accessory with an exaggerated sigh. “How could you do it to this adorable little thing?”

“It’ll live. Always does.” His eyes followed your finger still gently touching the plushie, “He’s a tough guy, can handle a bit of smoke. He’d take a drag too if he could, probably.” You sent him a half-serious glare and pulled your hand away from his arm, signaling defeat. You noticed he was still standing right where you had pushed him back to, more mindful of your space.

You turned your back to him to open your locker again, and pulled out your bag, along with your light jacket. However, before you could even sling the bag over your shoulder, he already grabbed hold of it, his fingers brushing against yours in the process.

“Does it bother you?” Xavier asked, his voice unsure, your bag already on his arm. The pastel-colored plushies hanging from it were a sharp contrast to his appearance. You looked at him again after making sure you had closed the locker. “The smell of smoke, I mean.” His beautiful blues bore into your eyes, his teeth biting at the lip ring nervously.

“Well, I can’t say I like it. I don’t think anyone really does.” He looked at you like a scolded puppy, his hair falling into his eyes when he turned his head to the side. “But it’s your choice, really, I can’t tell you how you should live. It’s just… really sad to know that you’re destroying your lungs daily.”

“Hmm, yeah. It is pretty sad.” Although a pout marked Xavier’s face now, you noticed a slight playfulness in his voice. Then, a sudden spark appeared in his eyes, as if an idea had just formed in his mind. “I could die. You wouldn’t want that to happen, am I right?” He leaned toward you again, one hand placed beside your head, his body almost trapping you against the lockers, your back pressed to the cool metal again. His fingers stroked your wrist, then trailed up to your forearm, his stormy blue eyes following the movement attentively.

“Y—You’re acting weird.” You commented weakly, your heart increasing its beating against your chest. He was so close, too close, his body towering over yours, making you see only him. You nervously looked around, hoping no one saw you, but you already knew you were alone. “Of course I wouldn’t, but—” You wanted to comment on his unusual boldness, ask a question to why was he suddenly acting like this, but he cut you off before you could say another word.

“I’ll quit, then.” His face so close you could smell the mint of the gum and feel the coldness of his breath on your cheek. You trembled unconsciously. “I don’t want you to be worried. But, I think I would like to ask for something in exchange.”

“Ah, so that’s what it’s all about, you’re cozying up to me because you want someth—”

“A date.” Your mouth closed instantly, eyes meeting his in shock. “There’s this gig that I would love to take you to, this weekend. Open-air, starts at midnight. We could—we could grab a bite too right before it starts? If you’d want to, of course.” You watched as his confidence slowly melted as he was speaking, voice trembling nervously at times, the tips of his ears turning red.

It was probably the longest reply he ever gave you, his sentences usually short and precise. And as you stared at him in disbelief, at his red ears and lip that he was now nervously biting despite acting so tough moments before, your chest filled with a warm, fuzzy feeling of your affections being reciprocated.

He was asking you out on a date.

Xavier, that Xavier: hot, intimidating, unbothered, extremely popular and seemingly unapproachable in the eyes of others.

Xavier, an intelligent, soft, socially awkward and extremely sweet little crush of yours was asking you out on a date.

You had to force yourself not to squeal, the idea that he found you attractive too making you nearly melt right into his chest, that seemed to be getting closer and closer with every second. You were both so different from each other, how could you predict that you actually had a chance with him? You thought that your quick, daily encounters was only him being nice, maybe excited to have a new friend.

Your lips curled into a smile, eyes sparkling with excitement you couldn’t contain.

“Is it that band you were talking about last week?” The memory of catching him staring excitedly at his phone right before you approached him during one of your short class breaks was still fresh in your mind. His fingers had been fidgeting with the cap he wore that day, turning it around as he leaned in to show you the newly added dates—one of which was very close to Linkon.

“Yeah. My favorite one.” He was getting more and more nervous, his hand was touching the nape of his neck now. “And I know these things can be loud and stuffy but I would protect you. You’d be safe with me, I swear, I wouldn’t let anyone else—”

“Okay.”

“Okay?” His head lowered even closer, the tips of your noses nearly touching. His eyes half-lidded, gazing down at you, his heart skipping a beat.

“Mhm. I would love to go with you.” Afraid to stumble over your words, your answer a gentle whisper. “Even without you quitting smoking. Buuut, it’s a really nice bonus.” Xavier chuckled, his head dropping to bring his lips closer to your ear.

“That so?” You had no idea, but he hid his head from your gaze for the widest of smiles to appear on his face. He closed his eyes and let himself bask in your closeness and sweet scent, mentally thankful for his burst of confidence earlier. “Then maybe the whole quitting thing isn’t really necessary?”

“Ah-ah. No takesies backsies—”

“No wha—”

“A promise is a promise.” You stated surely, your finger pressing on his chest as a warning. If he said he’ll quit, he better have to quit. Especially since now the possibility of him being closer to you daily has increased immensely. “If you want to reach for a cigarette now, you better pop in some gum. Or some candy, or ask for a—”

“Kiss?”

Your head turned his way just as his forehead rested on your shoulder. One eye opened, staring at you, a smirk lingering on his lips, the piercing there once again catching your attention.

Would you feel it when his mouth finally pressed to yours? Would it be forceful and bruising, or would he take his time, easing you into it with soft patience? He was a walking enigma, shy and gentle one moment, confident and quick the next. What side of him would you uncover if you let yourself get closer?

“Don’t overthink it or I might actually take your silence as a yes.” You breath hitched the moment he turned his head and you felt his lips touching the skin below your ear. Not a kiss, just a fleeting warmth of his mouth, the coolness of the ring causing goosebumps to appear on your skin. He took a step back, taking all the warmth away and you nearly chased after him to bring it back.

What was he doing to you?

His knuckles brushed your flushed cheek, and your eyelashes fluttered, the touch once again unexpected.

“First, you have to keep your end of the deal. Then we’ll see.” You learned that you were a literal, freaking master at feigning confidence, given how weak your legs felt and how much you wanted to pass out while meeting his affectionate gaze.

His face was slightly flushed too. Clearly affected, despite his confident demeanor. Maybe you weren’t that different from each other, after all.

“We will.” Xavier wet his lips, the tip of his pink tongue barely peeking out before his teeth sank into the plush skin— like he was already imagining how it would feel like. Maybe holding himself back from satisfying his curiosity right then and there. “I’ll make sure we will. Wouldn’t dare to miss the chance, angel.”

And when he walked you home that day, your bag swinging from his broad shoulder and your fingers brushing from time to time, sending pleasant sparks between you—you realized that, despite your differences, you’d never felt such a connection with anyone before. Talking with him was so easy, the way the walk home felt too short not to miss the comforting presence of his for hours after. And you were sure he felt the same, from the way he joked about not giving your bag back, to the goodbye hug you initiated, but he prolonged, his strong arms wrapping gently around your waist, reluctant to let go. And then there was the longing glance he gave you, just seconds before you closed the door.

A sharp ping of a new message cut through the air not long after, a string of new numbers followed by a simple sentences, ones that made your heart beat faster again.

keep thinking that I shouldve made up some lame excuse just to spend more time with U. The cat plushie said he misses U. I didn’t know he could read my mind — Xavier

And with a chuckle and a blush, you already knew that you were slowly falling in love—and you just hoped that when it fully bloomed, he would be there to help you care for it.

As for the kiss—the weekend couldn’t come soon enough.

🤍 if you liked it, you can support me here! https://ko-fi.com/kitimeq <3

every single one counts, it helps me grow and makes me feel that writing is not a waste of time!! <3

please like, reblog and COMMENT if u liked it!! i would love to know if i should continue it—i wrote it as a quick, cute bad boy xavier story. i would love to make it mdni ofc skdhshdg <33

[jellysmosh]

Feels Like Being in Love

Summary: As a camera operator at Smosh, you were accustomed to being invisible, preferring to be out of sight and blending into the background. But something seemed to shift when your crush started seeking you out to talk about things you also happened to be interested in.

Pairing: Spencer Agnew x GN!Reader

Tags: Fluff, mutual pining

Word count: 3.5k

Note: I’m used to writing from an extrovert’s pov (since I am one), so I was trying to write a more reserved, shyer reader… shout out to any of my introverted readers out there! Love you divas! Also, this was meant to be short, that didn’t really happen.

☆

Smosh was an insane place to work.

When you were hired, you did not expect to leave your comfort place behind the camera. As a camera operator, you worked closely with Brennan safely out of shot. However, every now and then, you had been convinced to get mic'd up and stand in front of the camera for various crew-involved videos. They were a lot of fun, especially the hide and seek videos and crew gauntlet TNTL’s. You were admittedly camera shy, you were not a trained actor and you had very little experience being anywhere besides behind the camera. You loved filming and photography, releasing the reins and becoming the subject being filmed was a different ballpark, it made you sweat and you became hyper aware of where you rested your hands. Generally, you were content mixing in with the crew, invisible amongst the other staff members.

Your favourite videos to film were for the games channel. They had an elevated level of chaos and had really helped you improve your handheld filming skills. Last time they played The Maury Game, you were huffing and puffing, locking in on chasing Angela around behind the set.

Another reason you loved filming games videos was working with the one and only Spencer Agnew. You didn’t have a crush on him, you just admired him and how amazing he was at his job. He was so experienced and knew what he was doing so well that he directed with ease. He would give you clear and detailed instructions, but also gave you liberty to make creative decisions. Brennan was happy as long as you didn’t break anything when you ran after cast members. Spencer easily commanded the room when filming games videos, it was so attractive seeing him in his element, like it came as easy to him as walking and talking.

Okay, so maybe you had a crush on him.

He was a brilliant director, friend, coworker, subject to film, just a great guy overall. How were you not meant to fall for him? His charming and funny on-camera persona was magnetic, and his usual sweet and slightly mild mannered self off-camera was even more attractive. You weren’t close enough to hang out much one-on-one, but whenever you spent time with him in a group, you could feel your eyes being drawn to him the entire time. He was so attractive, full of quick-witted sarcasm, a huge bank of niche references in his head, and all topped off with an infectious smile. You were screwed from the moment you met him, essentially.

☆

“Hey Y/N.”

You looked up from your laptop to the sound of Spencer’s voice. You nervously smiled as he walked over to you. You had made it to set a little early and was checking a couple emails before you finished setting up the equipment for the next Board AF shoot.

“Hi, Spencer”, you replied softly, worried your voice would shake if you spoke any louder. “I’ll finish setting up in a second, just replying to an email.”

“Oh”, he waved one hand dismissively, “no rush, we have plenty of time. Nobody else is going to arrive on set for another ten minutes.”

You just mutely nodded, kicking yourself for being so awkward. You weren’t sure how to respond since you didn’t normally chat with Spencer alone unless it was work related. You were used to blending in, mixing into the crowd of the crew. You hesitated before looking back down at your screen, trying to focus on typing out a reply as if you weren’t extremely conscious of the man sitting only a metre away from you. Just as you hit send, you became aware of the feeling of eyes on you. You slowly raised your head, scared of being wrong and him catching you staring like a creep. But when you looked up, he was already looking at you. You felt your face heat up immediately and the hair on the back of your neck stand up, you felt like a deer in headlights with his green eyes locking with yours.

You raised your eyebrows in question, “yes?”

“Nothing”, he replied casually, “I just noticed your shirt, it’s cool.”

You glanced down at your shirt, a graphic t-shirt you bought from one of your favourite bands, Wet Leg.

“Thank you”, you murmured bashfully, you were flattered by his compliment, “do you like Wet Leg?”

It felt like a strange question to say to someone out loud.

“Yeah!” He smiled brightly, it made you also smile subconsciously, it was contagious. “Their stuff’s really cool. I loved their new singles.”

You felt yourself perk up, you didn’t often talk about your personal interests with people at work outside of the camera operation team. It excited you that someone shared something in common with you. Especially since that person was Spencer.

“Oh my god, they’re so good”, you gushed before you could stop yourself, “I’m so excited for their upcoming album.”

He laughed and nodded in agreement. You two chatted about the band until other people started arriving on set and you had to finish fixing up the cameras in preparation for filming. That was the shortest ten minutes of your life.

You were done adjusting the cameras when the cast members all found their seats. You nodded at the other members of the crew, signalling you were ready to go. You glanced over your shoulder to where you knew Spencer was sitting, he looked up at the same time. You almost jumped at the sudden eye contact.

You offered him a small smile. He smiled back. You turned back to the camera in front of you, cheeks and ears burning.

☆

You had helped finish up the last shoot of the day, a Challenge Pit video that required a lot of different angles, so there was plenty of stuff to put away. You were packing up various bits of camera equipment, stepping back to scan the shelf to make sure everything was in the right spot.

“Hey Y/N.”

You jumped. It was the second time that week you had heard that voice say those words.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to spook you”, he looked at you with that charming smile of his as he stepped into the storeroom.

“That’s alright”, the volume of your voice was just above a whisper. You couldn’t deny you felt a little flustered being in a secluded space with him. “What’s up?”

“Alex just informed me that you like Baccano!” He leaned against the wall, hands in the pockets of his denim jacket. “I had to come talk to you about it. Such a good anime.”

You gasped. Baccano! was your favourite anime. You vaguely recalled mentioning it to Alex when they randomly asked you the question a while ago before scampering off, you assumed they were up to the usual strange games team antics, some kind of office survey maybe.

“Yeah, it’s so good!” You agreed with him, smiling. You fiddled with the sleeve of your shirt to calm your nerves, “you like it too? It’s a bit old but I really love it. It’s so fun to rewatch too.”

You felt your entire face flush at the way he was attentively listening to you. He had this open, observant expression every time he was closely listening to someone, and it made you a little anxious to have it directed at you.

“Yeah”, he mumbled, “I really like it.” His eyes lingered on you a little longer before breaking eye contact and casually scanning the room. “You have great taste in anime. I would know, of course. I am obviously the authority on good taste.”

That made you laugh, you leaned back as well, shoulders pressed against a pillar. You were overcompensating a bit, trying extra hard to look casual and cool when your heart was actually racing.

“You clearly are”, you responded, you gave him a close-lipped smile and a tilt of your head that you hoped looked curious and not like you were straining your neck awkwardly. “Do you have any recommendations for my next watch?”

“Ooh..”, he lifted his head to stare at the ceiling, clearly thinking hard. “Have you watched Erased?”

He glanced at you and when you shook your head, he grinned in that gorgeous, beautiful way he always did.

“You would love it. Maybe we could watch it together sometime?” He lowered his voice, the air between you felt warm, electric.

You started to spiral. Was that a genuine invitation? There was no way he was flirting with you, maybe he just wanted to hang out. Maybe he was the kind of person that liked to see his friends’ reactions when watching things he liked? The idea of hanging out with him made you sweat though, you needed at least a third person to buffer otherwise you would have a nervous breakdown. You felt like you were about to panic, he had to mean that in a purely platonic way, right? This did seem like a good chance to get to know him better but there was no way you could handle being alone with him. He was looking at you expectantly and you were totally overthinking.

“Yeah, maybe”, your voice cracked a little as you replied, nerves showing. “Uh, I gotta go”, you said bluntly, incredibly embarrassed and trying to escape as fast as humanly possible.

“Oh, okay…”, he replied in confusion as you quickly grabbed some of your belongings and scurried out the door. You didn’t look back as you power-walked down the hall.

Your fears won this round. You were a bit ashamed of your awkwardness, sure you had fumbled that social interaction miserably. You wondered if Spencer was disappointed in your response. You pushed the thought out of your head, just relieved to be out of that stuffy room with the object of your affections standing alone inside.

☆

You patted your pockets, making sure you had your keys and phone as you walked towards the office car park. You heard footsteps rapidly approaching behind you, as you turned to see who it was, you nervously grabbed the strap of your bag on instinct. As per usual, you braced yourself for the incoming social situation. And you were right to be nervous, because it was Spencer making his way towards you.

You had been avoiding him since the weird interaction in the camera equipment storeroom, only really staying anywhere near him when working. You had grown more worried and suspicious he may have realised you had feelings for him. It was pretty simple to deduce, in your opinion, you feared your reactions to him made it obvious.

“Hey Y/N.”

The way your name rolled off his tongue made you shiver. You couldn’t deny you loved it when he said it, being acknowledged by him was a curse and a blessing, it made you cripplingly nervous but incredibly happy. Spencer Agnew made your life agony.

“Hi”, you choked out, grip tightening on your bag. You looked down at your feet, kicking slightly at the concrete. You weren’t sure what to say to him and you could feel your face warming the longer he looked at you.

“Um”, he seemed to hesitate. You glanced up at him and was surprised to see he seemed a little bashful. “I, uh, I have something for you.”

Your eyes widened as he dug around in his bag. He got you something? A gift? Your heartbeat was so loud, you were certain he could hear it. When he turned back to you with a Smiski blind box in his hand, you were afraid your heart was going to beat right out of your chest for him to witness.

“A Smiski?” You felt yourself grin despite your nerves, “I love Smiskis!”

“Yeah, I got this one for free”, he replied sheepishly, “I noticed you had a few on your desk, so I thought you would appreciate it more than me.”

You accepted the present delicately, your cheeks reddened when you felt your fingers graze against his own. His hand was warm and soft, making it obvious how clammy yours was. Your instinct to run away was overshadowed by your excitement that Spencer had not only given you a Smiski, but also that he noticed you liked them. He had a way of making you feel seen when you had always thought you were invisible.

“Thank you, Spencer”, you said gratefully, “this is so sweet. Are you sure you don’t want it?”

He shook his head, “it’s all yours, it’s clear you want it. Look at that smile.”

You immediately flushed a deep red, your hand reflexively coming up to cover your face. You were mortified that he could clock how ecstatic you were. You just hoped he thought you were happy because of the Smiski itself and not because it was Spencer gifting it. The both of you laughed, you shyly looked down again, admiring the little box in your hand.

When you locked eyes again, you couldn’t read his expression. The eye contact alone made you feel like you were going crazy.

“Make sure you keep it front and centre on your desk”, he jokingly pointed at you like he was giving an order. It made you giggle. “I’ll be checking.”

“Yes sir”, you smiled at him, genuine. He made you nervous, but he also made you want to open up, be honest with him. That made you even more nervous.

“Good”, he put his hands in his pockets, satisfied, “so everytime you look down at him, it’ll remind you of me.”

Forget opening up, you were ready to sprint away, just absolutely leg it out of there. You took a step back from him, chuckling to cover up how much you were freaking out. He was clearly just playing around, being friendly, but did he know the effect he had on you? You had to leave before you sweat through your shirt.

“Seeyoutomorrow”, you sputtered out briskly before practically jogging to your car. You were desperate to get out of there.

You didn’t trust yourself to glance at him still standing in the same spot as you quickly pulled out of the car park, tires screeching.

☆

You heard a voice as you set your bag down at your desk.

“Hey Y/N.”

Oh crap, you weren’t ready to talk to Spencer yet. It was 9am and you had not emotionally prepared yourself. After the conversation you shared the previous afternoon, you were still on edge. You had thought about him practically all night, staring at the Smiski he gave you and lying awake, plagued by thoughts of his kind gestures, his adorable smile, and the way his fingers brushed against yours.

“Good morning, Spencer”, you replied politely, subconsciously fixing your hair as you turned to look at him.

He was extra cute today, no hat covering his bouncy curls and short sleeves showing his array of tattoos. He seemed a bit apprehensive today, breaking eye contact with you, staying a reasonable distance away.

“Can we talk for a second?” He looked around briefly before adding, “alone?”

Anxiety built up in your stomach. Alone. You nodded, silently hoping the floor would open up and eat you. Instead, you had to simply follow him to the currently empty break room. Talking to him had been happening a lot more often recently, and you were trying to act like you weren’t about to pee yourself like a shaking chihuahua every time. He chose a table to sit at and beckoned you over. You elected to sit on the chair opposite him, deciding it was safer for your trembling heart than sitting right next to him.

“You’re not in trouble, by the way”, he held his hands up. You let out a breath without thinking, you were glad he tried to quell your anxieties. “I just wanted to say… I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable over the past few days.”

That made you furrow your brow. You were exceedingly confused, what on earth was he talking about? He never made you uncomfortable, you were a highly strung ball of nerves but that had nothing to do with him.

“Uncomfortable?”

Seeing the clear confusion on your face, he continued, “well, I thought I completely messed up. Every single time I flirted with you, you immediately ran away every time.”

Your jaw dropped as Spencer’s cheeks reddened. What?

“Wait, wait- what?” You exclaimed, “flirting? What are you talking about?”

This time he looked confused. “You know, like the past few conversations we’ve had one-on-one?”

“You were flirting with me?” You could have sworn the room started spinning. Were you hearing him correctly?

“Yes”, he replied exasperatedly, “or, well, I was trying to. I thought you were trying to make it clear you weren’t interested.”

You gaped like a fish, you couldn’t recall anyone ever admitting to trying to flirt with you. How had you not picked up on the signs?

“Like with Wet Leg”, he continued, running a hand through his hair, “I only started listening to them because I had seen you wear that shirt before. They’re really good, don’t get me wrong, but I just wanted something to talk to you about. Something just between us.”

“Huh?” You thought your brain was about to short circuit.

“And with Baccano! … I admit I asked Alex to ask you what your favourite anime is”, he rocked back and forth on his heels slightly, “and then I binged it, I barely slept that night. But I was so keen to talk to you about it, I got restless.”

“What?” You placed your hands on the table, shocked at his admission.

“And the Smiski I gave you yesterday”, you held your breath while he confessed, “I lied. I didn’t get it for free, I was being a creep at your desk so I could figure out which line you hadn’t got yet and went out to find it so I could give you a present.”

“Why?” You felt faint.

“Because”, he shrugged nonchalantly, but his red cheeks gave him away, “I like you. I wanted you to notice me.”

You were a new level of flustered, your entire body was hot and you felt a little bit lightheaded. You pressed your two feet together under the table, confused, giddy, and scared of all this attention all at once.

“You’re silly”, you replied quietly. He leaned in to hear you clearer, hanging onto your every word. “How could I not notice you, Spencer?” You glanced at him shyly, “I never thought you would notice me, I don’t really stand out.”

“Are you kidding me?” He laughed breathily, “I could pick you out of a crowd of a million people with no problem.”

You locked eyes with him. You were overwhelmed in the best way possible. What you thought was a one-sided crush was actually reciprocated.

“I’ve liked you for ages now”, you blurted out, unable to hold it in anymore. You didn’t realise how filled with feelings you were until you were ready to spill it all out for him now. “I ran away from you because I was afraid you would realise and you didn’t feel the same.”

His gaze rested on you wordlessly for a beat, it looked like he was taking a minute to search for the right words.

“You’re the silly one”, he chuckled, scratching his beard, “how could I not feel that way about you? You’re amazing.”

You stared at each other silently for a moment before both bursting into excited giggles. You weren’t used to this feeling in your chest, like there was a firework ready to burst, shattering you into a hundred little sparks of every colour.

“I can’t believe you were paying such close attention to me”, you grinned at him mischievously, “I trust you enjoyed listening to good music and watching good anime?”

“Of course”, he nodded, “you have great taste. It just made me like you more.”

You didn’t think you could flush any darker. You didn’t feel brave enough to grab his hand, instead you slowly kicked your leg out until your foot was pressed up against his, he responded by gently pushing his foot back.

“Hey Spencer?” You weren’t sure if you could ever feel calm around him when he looked at you like that, eyes full of warmth and a small grin.

He hummed in response.

“If you forgive me for running away last time, and if you’ll still have me, I’d love to watch an anime with you sometime.”

And when he smiled at you like that, you were so glad you weren’t invisible to him.

☆

Note: I hope the shy readers relate to this… all my friends that like Smiskis are introverts, I couldn’t unsee that pattern once I noticed lol. And this might be a hidden ad for Wet Leg, I love them.

♡ masterlist

[thesecretestblogever]

A-Z Frat! Will

MDNI 18+ frat! Will below the cut :)

A - Aftercare

You’ve been dating since high school, so not only is aftercare a regular part of your routine, but also very important to you. It does depend on time and location though. If you’re alone for the night in his room, he’ll clean you up and you’ll cuddle naked, or take a shower together. If it’s somewhere less conventional like the closet, the golf course, or the bathroom, there’s not much you can do except deal with the sticky panties, but you’ll get a forehead kiss every time.

B - Body Part (Their/Yours)

Will is obsessed with your ass. He loves to grab it, smack it, dig his fingers into the ample flesh as his hips stutter into yours and he spills deep into you. It comes as no surprise later on when he asks to try anal and unsurprisingly loves it. 

C - Cum

Looooooovvessss to cum inside you or paint your face. There’s something about doing this that makes you really feel like his and his only. 

D - Dirty Secret

Will is not afraid to ask to try new things and you’re both always eager to find a new way to get each other off. There’s very few secrets between you. You’re a little curious about what a threesome would be like with another girl, but he’s always adamantly against it.

E - Experience

Frat! Will and Reader have been together since high school - your experience is completely and totally each other. You know the ins and outs of each other's bodies like they’re your own. The only other person who’s joined was once when you had a threesome with Eky. 

F - Favourite Position

He likes bending you over any surface - the counter of the kitchen or the bathroom, the bed, the golf cart. He can hold your hips and really pull you back onto him with each thrust. 

G - Goofy

Things are usually pretty serious when you’re having sex, but that doesn’t mean you can’t have a good laugh if either of you stumble or do something awkward. 

H - Hair

He keeps it tame - light trims, but never a full shave. 

I - Intimacy

Will treasures you like you’re a bar of gold. Even if he’s getting lost in the feeling of you, he never forgets to kiss all over you, praise you with beautiful words and hold you close to his sweaty, naked body afterwards and let you know how good you did and how important you are to him. 

J - Jerk off

He’s a 20 year old frat boy, which means he’s jacking off anytime and anywhere he can. It doesn’t diminish his libido or thirst for you. He could have jacked off in the shower before you came over and he still wants to throw you down somewhere and fuck you brainless.

K - Kink

This boy loves exhibition and anal. Those are his two big ones. Those things set him on fire and the first time you tried anal, he came after a few pumps. He was extremely embarrassed, but you found it hot how much he loves your body and he made sure you were well taken care of after.

L - Location(Favourite places to do it)

You and Will have some sort of exhibitionist interest. The bed is a classic, but he’ll take you anywhere if it enters his mind, as long as there’s no actual threat of being caught. His parents’ hot tub was a game changer.

M - Motivation (What turns them on/gets them going)

Your connection is so deep, anything can set him off. Seeing you do the most mundane tasks make his mind wander. What you’re really good at though is testing him during parties. He’s not the most possessive or jealous guy, but you like to push his buttons. He knows you’re doing it every time too as you meet his gaze across the room as you lean in too close to another guy or touch his arm for too long. He knows what you’re doing, but it still works every time. 

N - No(Draw a line In the sand)

You tried a lot of things over the years, and found that you’re really not into hard BDSM. Will’s not opposed to some light spanking, slapping, or some choking, but he doesn’t like to cause too much pain. He’s much more into praising you and encouraging you when you’re fucking because it makes you melt into him. You also tried tying him up one time, and he hated how little control and participation he had. He likes both parties to be able to do what they want in a delicious push and pull. 

O - Oral

He’ll eat you out for as long as you’ll let him. One of his favorite places to be is between your legs. At this point, he has you memorized and knows exactly how to lick and suck on you to pull multiple orgasms from you in record time. You have to pull his hair and beg for him to let up when you’re twitching and whining with his mouth on you. He also loves blowjobs - ultimately, he'd rather be buried deep inside you, but seeing you on your knees, swallowing around him and looking up through your eyelashes causes a fire deep in his stomach. Sometimes, he has to deny you because he knows he’ll come too fast if you put your mouth on him. 

P - Pace

Will finds it hard to slow down when everything about you feels soooooo fucking good. He’s fast, hot, and hard and you have to remind him sometimes to warm you up. He always apologizes and tries to come back to himself and focus on you. 

Q - Quickie

Again, this boy will take you anywhere he can. You oscillate between long marathons of sweet love making or hard fucking, to a blowjob in the shower, or he distracts you while you’re making dinner and fucks you quick on the counter. Your jelly legs don’t make it easy to finish the meal afterwards.

R - Risk

Not afraid to push the boundaries. You got caught once in the closet at the practice rink, which meant he had a lot of privileges revoked for a few months. He likes to see just how far he can take it without getting caught. You were invited to a team dinner once, and his hand found its way into your panties under the table. It was hard to keep it together and eat your pasta. 

S- Stamina

Can go for hours and hours if you let him. There’s one night he’ll never let you live down when you came so many times you almost passed out, and he had to stop and grab you water and he held you, brushing the sweaty hair away from your face.

T - Toys

Will is extremely confident in his ability to make you come, but he’ll never say no to a little extra fun. You’re both adventurous and like to try everything, and that includes toys. When you discovered his love for anal, a plug became a normal part of your routine. 

U - Unfair(How much they like to tease)

RUDE. RUDE. RUDE. If he’s feeling evil, he’ll eat you out and work you up over and over again without letting you come. He likes when you beg for it, so he’ll suck on your clit until you’re right at the edge, grabbing at his hair before he stops completely. It’s almost painful as you cry out and your hips hump at nothing. When he finally lets you come, it’s blinding and he has to remind you to breathe. 

V- Volume (how loud they are or/what noise they make)

Will is loud and proud - he’s a talker and between moans and groans he makes sure to tell you how good your pussy feels.

“God, you’re so fucking soaked and still so tight,” he gasps. He feels consumed by you and cannot hold it in.

W - Wildcard (random head cannon)

Loves when you wear his clothes. He’ll fuck you in his varsity jacket, his hat, any of ther merch from the frat. Seeing you in nothing but the shirt with the greek letters of his frat on it makes him dumb. 

X - X-ray

Average length, but goddamn does he know how to use it. He knows exactly how to angle himself and thrust into you to hit the exact right spot that has you dissolving beneath him. 

Y - Yearning(how high is there sex drive)

Very. High. You can’t get enough of each other. You wonder how a full time student and hockey player has this much energy, but you’re not complaining. 

Z - ZZZ(how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

If you’re in bed, you always cuddle afterwards and talk about whatever. You’ll both drift off, eventually one of you not answering the other’s questions. Sometimes, Will will keep talking to you, even if he knows you’re asleep. He plays with your fingers that are intertwined with his and always kisses you before closing his own eyes.

[sulphuricgrin]

People who read fanfics but don't interact with it, here's a harsh reminder:

Comment.

Comment like the fanfic's life depends on it, because it likely does.

The author behind it is writing this for fun, writing this to share with others, for free. Don't bother saying "Oh, they write it for themselves." No, not really.

Art is meant to be shared and enjoyed and discussed.

Comments are motivation for an author to keep going. Comments tell an author someone is enjoying their work.

Comments mean more than kudos! Kudos can only be given once and could be given early when a fic is young. But if people are reading but not commenting on later chapters, an author has no idea if anyone is enjoying or even reading their recent updates! They might think people have lost interest! An author might give up if not given a reminder that at least someone is reading and loving it.

"But I don't know what to comment!"

Easy! You've got several different styles to try! Mix and match if you want.

The simplest and quickest: Thanking the author for the update or maybe even just a 💚.

Screaming: Caps and chaos, scream at the author all your thoughts. I assure you, authors love seeing this:

“NOOOOO 😭😭😭 WHY WOULD YOU DO THIS TO ME??? ajdkskfjskfj”

You can even go further and write line by line as you 'live react' to the chapter/fic:

“Okay the opening is already killing me.” “OH MY GOD THEY FINALLY KISSED!!!” “WHY WOULD YOU END IT THERE???”

Quote: Pick out a quote from your favourite part and make a comment around it. Was it a good line? Did you really like what happened?

My favourite line is "she had more money than sense sometimes, but she’d hardly cry over this." It's a small one but I love how it conveys his attitude towards her mixed with his desire.

Hype: Maybe you don't have much to say, but just announcing your love is enough!

"I'm obsessed with this fic." or “frantically mashing the kudos button again and again"

Speculate: Guess what might be coming next!

"i wonder why lilli would rather Elikar take her and Cinnara 👀 👀"

Analyse: Offer thoughtful commentary on themes, motivates, foreshadowing, or symbolism. An author would be thrilled to see all the little details they might have written are being picked up!

"Her mentioning the magic being different somehow seems to imply she's already dimly aware of the sea's connection to Apocrypha, maybe?"

Just remember one crucial rule: Don't offer criticism unless you know each other and you've been asked.

Now go! Go support some of your favourite fanfics and authors! Show the love, and don't hide it behind discord servers!

[just-nc-tea]

COMING TO YOU THIS FRIDAY JUNE 13TH AT 6 PM CET:

ᛪ༙ SACRIFICE (EAT ME UP)

You were supposed to die. It would have been so much easier just to die. But it chose you before you could do so. Picked your weak body to anchor itself in. Making you one tether between the human realm and the shadows clawing at its edges. Alive purely to keep the balance, to stop a war no one saw coming. Vampires, witches and werewolves all try to use your magic to prepare themselves. They watch you. Train you. Use you. But your powers aren’t gifted and can't be used and abused. They’re given to keep the world from burning, even if it means burning you and everyone you love in the process.

ᝰ word count. 4.1 k .ᐟ₊ ⊹ ᝰ genre. fantasy, supernatural, slowburn!!!, Vampire!Sunghoon x supernatural!Y/N, Werewolf!Nicholas x supernatural!Y/N, ANGST, fluff, Friends to Lovers? Enemies to Lovers? .ᐟ₊ ⊹ ᝰ warnings.character death, violence, blood, gore (more will be added during the writing process) .ᐟ₊ ⊹ ᝰ disclaimer. heavily inspired by &Teams and Enhypens lore, the vampire diaries, city of bones, supernatural and numerous fanfictions i have read over the years

ᝰ an. The first chapter and this teaser a more an introduction than anything, it might feel a bit slow in the beginning, but its picking up pace soon! I promise! I also just really needed a second love interest so that "enemy" Sunghoon can turn into lover Sunghoon. Updates might come slowly, but they will come! (also yes i already posted the teaser but i had to work over stuff again so the release date pushed back a bit. ₊ ⊹   ⤷ series masterlist

It’s weird, being a passenger in your own body from time to time. Feeling your feet move, your hands gesture, your head turn, not being able to blink on your own, caged in only with your thoughts. 

You sometimes wondered if this was how people in a coma felt. 

Unable to do anything. 

You felt the leaves brushing against your naked skin, the cold breeze that made your body shiver, the uneven pathway underneath your feet. 

At least it remembered to put on shoes. When it took over the last time your feet were bleeding at the end of the night. 

It ran through the woods behind the small brook in your hometown, searching for something. You weren’t entirely sure what it was searching for. 

There wasn’t much in the woods; a few stray wolves had claimed it as their territory, so humans mostly stayed clear of it. 

Your body stopped in front of a small pond. The bright light of the moon was softly reflecting off the surface, soft ripples causing it to reflect like small sparks of glitter. 

It took a step towards the water, kneeling down and softly touching it with your fingers. It was cold, and your body shivered. It made a pleased sound and plunged your whole arm into the water, the cold engulfing your limb. 

It hurt. 

It was around the freezing point outside, the middle of January. You wanted to instinctively pull your arm backwards, but the creature just tutted and put your second arm into the water. 

A sudden noise made your head shoot upwards. A wolf was staring at you from the opposite end of the pond, growling. Its white fur was tainted with blood at the snout. 

The creature just cocked your head to the side. Tingles of pure power ran through your veins. You couldn't see your arms while it was staring at the wolf, but you knew your fingers were starting to taint black, your veins turning a dark shade. You hated it when it did that. Whenever it did whatever it was doing right now, you felt awful the next day. 

The wolf growled even louder, and you heard more footsteps hurtling through the woods, probably the rest of its clan or whatever it was called. Pack? You weren’t sure. 

If it were only you in the woods right now, you would be shaking in fear, your heart hammering almost through your chest, but you knew it would never let anything hurt you. You were too precious. Or well, your body was. 

A few years ago, it broke into one of the crypts in the graveyard, the Lee crypt, as you learned when you returned a few days later to assess the damage it or you left behind. In there, it stole a few old, torn-up books, the pages being yellow and almost crumbling under your touch when you started flipping through them. 

Virethar, that’s its name. Or at least its race? You weren't sure if the creature had a name on its own or not. So you just named it Creature. It's a veil-keeper, it's not bad or good per se, it just simply is. It existed to preserve the boundary between the human world and the supernatural world.

You learned that day that they were true; all the stories you were told as a kid were true. Vampires, demons, werewolves, warlocks, they all existed and lived among humans, even sometimes mixing with your kind, or what you would call your kind. You weren’t even sure if you were still human.

The creature made you read hours upon hours that night. Repeatedly reading over passages that were apparently important before continuing. His and somehow also now your job was to ​​make sure no supernatural force overwhelms or exploits the human realm, and that no human meddles too far into forbidden knowledge or magic.

It taught you that a Virethar does not seek power or worship. It rarely spoke, only if necessary, to not blow its cover whenever your mother or father would catch you being awake or outside in the middle of the night. They were thinking you were sleepwalking. Somehow, you were. 

The creature preferred to appear or take over during the dark hours of the night. Your parents started locking all doors and even put a fence around their precious garden to keep your body from wandering around during the night.

That didn’t stop the creature. 

According to the book, it can walk between realms. It can appear and disappear from shadows or reflections and travel through the dark. The first time it happened, your body felt like it was ripped to shreds when it started to disappear into the shadows, and for a split second, you took control of your body and screamed. The Virethar took control back, and you were suddenly not in front of the tall fence anymore, but lying in your bed, panting and whitering in pain. 

The creature spent the next few nights teaching you how to travel through the shadows. Those nights were the only times you actually heard it speak. A dark growl, almost a gargle. You couldn’t remember much of those nights aside from how to actually do it, and you assumed it just rearranged your memories slightly. Virethars are able to read and rearrange memories to remove traces of forbidden knowledge. In your case, it was most likely the memories of the searing pain you were in. Your parents thought you were just sick when you had fevers during the daytime. The Virethar stood in one of the corners of your room, watching over you while you used the day as well to train to shadow travel. It can hold up a physical appearance for a limited timeframe, feeding of chaos around it. You weren’t really sure what that meant, but your neighbour's dog was never as friendly as it was during those few days. You suspected Bruno's sudden death was in direct correlation to the creature watching you. 

The wolf was still staring at you, and you felt the Virethar pulling your lips into what probably resembled a smile, moving your arm, and reaching towards the wolf. The bright moonlight seemed to dim down as it unleashed a black fog from your fingertips. The wolf's eyes opened in what looked like shock or fear, and it yelped, turning around and running before the darkness could reach it. The Virethar chuckled in your body and slowly stood up from where it was crouched on the floor. It made instances to step into the water but stopped when you yelped, or well, thought: “No! Don’t let the Pyjama get wet, you will freeze when you get out!”

It just nodded and started to undress, leaving you only in your underwear, before stepping into the water. 

Even the creature hesitated after it took the first step. The cold made your feet almost freeze up the second it was plunged into the water. But after a few seconds, it seeimngly changed its mind and your body walked into the pond. It didn’t stop walking even when the water got too deep for you to stand, taking a deep breath and continuing underwater. You started to panic slightly, yes, it might be able to control the shadows, but did it remember you needed to breathe? 

“Calm.” The voice grumbled through your mind, and you just yelped again at the intrusion. Hearing its voice reverberating in the space that was usually only yours was a weird sensation, and if you were in control of your body, you would have gulped in fear. 

The creature suddenly moved your arms and swam back to the surface, taking a deep breath when it reached the air again. 

It slightly turned your head, locking eyes at a rock and swimming towards it. The texture of the rock was rough, and when it pulled your body onto you felt how your hands, knees, and feet were sliced open, but the creature didn’t let itself be deterred by that. 

When it sat on top of the rock, it took a deep breath and closed your eyes. But instead of darkness, you saw everything. 

Everything around you, as if you were running through the woods at high speed. 

You realized what it was doing. It was searching for whatever it had been trying to find for the last couple of weeks. 

It stopped for a second when it saw the wolf again. The wolf was running, its white fur reflecting in the bright light of the moon, and as if it realized it was being watched, it stopped suddenly, turning around. The creature stopped as well, and whatever form it was traveling in right now crouched down to look into the wolf's eyes. 

You could feel the subtle tension in your mind, a sharp vibration humming through your head. The wolf froze as if its very instincts buckled beneath the weight of the gaze. A thick tendril of black mist leaked from the creature, or whatever form Virethar was in right now, and slithered across the ground toward the wolf.

The wolf didn’t move. Its breath grew shallow. Its eyes went glassy, hollowing out for a heartbeat too long. 

Then it exhaled calmly, its stance relaxed, and its growl faded into a quiet whine. The darkness slithered back, dissolving.

It turned and ran. And the creature followed.

It sprinted after the wolf, moving through the shadow, deeper into the forest until the trees grew thicker. They stopped before an old mansion, with rotting wood, ivy-strangled windows, and iron gates.

Then. Nothing.

Darkness swallowed the connection.

You woke up with a sharp inhale, the kind that burns.

Air teared into your lungs like ice water, and you jerked slightly, your body stiff and uncooperative. Your cheek was pressed against the slick stone, skin numb where it touched the freezing surface. The water lapped  gently at your legs, a slow rhythm that only makes the cold worse.

You tried to move, but your body was unresponsive. It is almost like when Virethar took over, but you were almost a hundred percent sure you were in charge right now.

You tried again, your fingers twitched , barely, but the rest of you is too heavy. 

Where was it?

You searched inward, mentally reaching through that place in your mind where it always waited. But there’s nothing.

Not quiet.

Not stillness.

Just absence.

Your breath caught in your throat and came out in a ragged, hoarse gasp.

No, no, no –

He would never leave you here. He chose you. You barely remember life before him. If he ever wanted to leave, he had years. Why would he do it now, leaving you in the freezing water, your body slowly going numb.

You tried to lift your head. It lolled slightly, then dropped back down with a dull thud. 

You couldn’t feel your legs.

Virethar!, you called inside yourself. Or maybe out loud. 

Nothing answered.

The sky was so bright it hurt. Moonlight reflected off the pond and blinded you when you tried to look up, and you let your eyes flutter shut again.

You promised, you screamed in your thoughts. 

Or maybe it didn’t. Maybe that was just what you told yourself, night after night, when it moved your hands like they weren’t yours and spoke in your voice when it needed to.

It could’ve left you any time.

It didn’t have to wait until you were dying, because it left your body in a freezing pond.

Your skin started to tingle. 

Not the sharp pins and needles of cold, it felt like a dull kind of tingling. 

You remembered learning that hypothermia makes you feel warm before it kills you.

You felt warm now.

That terrified you more than the cold did.

You heard a crunch.

Something in the distance. Footsteps.

You couldn’t turn your head, couldn’t focus your eyes. But you heard the snow crackle. A low growl. Voices. Human ones.

The snow crunched louder and closer, and you forced your eyes open. 

The wolf returned first. It stopped a few feet from the edge of the pond and let out a low whine.

It wasn’t alone.

Two men appear through the trees behind it. Human. 

One of them halted dead in his tracks and muttered something you didn’t catch. 

You wanted to laugh. Or cry. Or both.

“Is that a–?” one of the men said and cut himself off.

The other answered for him. “A human. Sunghoon found a human.”

They stoped at the edge of the pond, both staring in your direction. Your chest spasmed from the cold, and a weak, broken sound escaped your throat.

The closer one moved first.

“What the hell–?” he said, sounding stunned. "She’s alive.”

His boots crunched over the frozen mud around the pond, and you heard the quick splash of him stepping into the water. 

The first scoffed. “How the fuck would a human survive this deep in Grey Pines? Let alone end up half-naked, in that.”

The second didn’t answer right away. You heard his boots crunch as he took a few slow steps closer to the water’s edge. “Look at her arms.”

He paused and continued quietly. “They’re all torn up.”

Were they? You couldn’t tell; everything was hurting.

“She’s not moving. Shouldn't she be like shivering or something? I can still hear her heart.”

“No human could survive out here. Not in this cold. Not alone.”, the first man muttered.

The wolf let out a low, warning growl. You couldn’t tell if it’s directed at them or something else in the woods.

“I don’t like this,” he continued. “It feels like bait. This could be a glamour. A lure. She could be some kind of witch construct or worse. We’re not dragging a skin puppet back.”

“I don’t think she’s veilspawn,” the quieter one muttered again.

“She’s in the middle of the damn pond. On a rock. How does a human even get there without dying of hypothermia?”

“I don’t know.”

You heard the sound of leather creaking, cloth rustling. You thought he’s trying to study you more closely, his fingers twitching slightly at his sides like he wanted to reach for a weapon.

“She’s looking at us.”

You were. Barely. Your eyes were half-lidded, unfocused, but locked in their direction. How did he even see that from this far away? 

“She’s blinking,” the quiet one added.

The first cursed under his breath. “You’re seriously thinking of going out there”

“She’s gonna die if we don’t get her out of this water now.”

“Don’t touch her,” the other warned, stepping around the wolf and eyeing you. “You don’t know what she is. You know what walks out of the veil this time of year.”

You hand twitched, barley. Just enough to get their attention again.

The second one saw it. You felt his gaze sharpen, even in your almost delirious state.

“She moved.”

“Yeah, I saw it.”

Silence stretched, thick with tension.

You tried to move, but your body was still unresponsive.

“She’s freezing,” the first one said again, more quietly this time.

“Then leave her, Jake,” the other guy snaped. “She’s not our problem.”

Jake ignored him and suddenly shrugged off his coat.

You heard him sigh, and then the unmistakable splash of water. The slow, squelching footfalls as he steped into the pond, each one followed by a hiss through clenched teeth.

“God, it’s freezing. Why couldn’t Heeseung come tonight?” he muttered. “He’d just hover her out with his mind and be done.”

“Or he’d tell you not to touch a strange girl in the middle of a cursed pond,” the other one snaped. “This reeks, Jake. Humans don’t just end up here.”

“She’s barely breathing, Jay.”

“Exactly.”

Jake didn’t answer. He waded in deeper, the water lapping just below his knees now. “We can’t just leave her.”

He cursed under his breath, when he reached you, his hand touching your naked shoulder tentatively. “Damn. She’s ice.”

“Hey,” he said, softer now. “Hey, can you hear me?”

You blinked slowly. That’s all you can do. 

He looked over his shoulder. "She is still awake. If she’s just some unlucky girl who wandered in–”

“No one wanders in,” the second one shook his head. “She’s here with something. No way a human crosses the Grey Pines without a guide. ”

He gestured to the woods behind you. 

Jake exhaled sharply, like he was forcing something out, and suddenly, his hands were hot. Not just warm from blood and skin, but radiating. Like touching the sun wrapped in human form.

The heat poured into you in waves. Your body twitched once. Then again.

You gasped violently, coughing, air scraping your throat like broken glass. Jake steadied you, holding you close to his chest to keep your head above water.

Your eyes fluttered open, and the first thing you saw was firelight. Not a literal flame, but the glow coming from Jake’s skin. It dimmed the moonlight and warmed the space around him like a living furnace.

You signed and relaxed into his hold, and then you saw his face, wide eyes, jaw clenched, like he’s trying not to panic.

“Fuck I don’t know if she’s a human,” he said louder towards the ones he came with.

“Shit,” Jay cursed from the bank. “Told you. This is bad news. No one ends up in this part of the woods by accident.”

Jake didn’t respond right away. You felt his grip tighten, shifting your weight so he could carry you back toward the shore.

Your head lolled slightly against his chest, and your eyes threatened to fall shut. At the shore, Jake carefully set you down on the cold floor.

“She’s marked,” Jay said, standing next to your shaking body. “She reeks of veil magic. Look at her eyes.”

You didn’t know what’s wrong with your eyes. You were too tired to ask.

You were not sure how long you were laying there while they argued about what to do. Minutes, maybe hours. Time felt like it was leaking from you, dissolving like mist.

Until finally, Jake, lifted you into his arms again.

The pain of your frozen limbs bending made you whimper.

“I got you,” he said, muttering to himself as much as to you. “We’ll get you warm, and then you’re telling us what the hell you’re doing out here.”

You wanted to tell him you don’t even know yourself.

You wanted to ask where the creature went. 

Why did it leave you? 

“Can you open your eyes?” Jake asked, his voice low and oddly soothing.

You forced your eyelids open. The second your eyes met his, you knew what was coming. 

They were glowing faintly at first, then brighter, red bleeding into his irises like ink spreading in water. The books warned you about this. Taught you to look away. To resist. But it was hard to remember how, when your mind was already feeling so slow and tired.

“Good,” he murmurs, and his voice was different now, silkier. He reached forward, his touch gentle as he tilted your chin up with his fingers, keeping your gaze on his. 

“You’re going to close your eyes now,” he said, and it didn’t sound like a suggestion. “You won’t notice the path we take. You won’t remember the way. You’ll be safe, so just sleep.”

You wanted to fight it, you should fight it. Being left alone with two vampires without the Virethar to protect his earthly host didn’t feel like a good idea. But the warmth of his voice wrapped around your mind like a blanket, and your body listened. Your lashes fluttered once, twice, and then fall shut.

You were not even sure if it was your choice.

The world slipped out from under you the moment your eyes shut. You weren’t asleep, not fully, but your head felt so heavy and keeping your eyes open felt almost impossible. 

You didn’t know how long it was until there was a sudden pulling sensation in your chest, and your scalp started tingling. It was back. It came back. 

A low, guttural growl reverberated inside your skull, and you almost signed in relive. 

It came back.

It came back. 

It. Came. Back.

“Found.”

Joy flooded your body. It's joy. Your chest swelled, and it giggled.

A bright, brittle sound, too sharp for the night.

You shouldn’t be laughing. You knew that. You were still half-frozen, half-dead. But the giddiness rushing through you was impossible to ignore, and you couldn’t tell where the creature ends and your conscious mind begins.

Jake's hands started feeling even warmer but the heat was different than before. YOu didn’t feel it on your skin, you felt it in your bones. 

His magic.

It was draining him.

The creature wasn’t stealing whatever body warmth Jake had; it was draining him. 

You felt his magic sliding into your body like syrup, thick and rich and burning hot. And it felt so good, like waking up inside sunlight. The creature was pulling it through you, eating it up like it was starving.

You tried to stop it. 

“No,” you whispered inside yourself, but the word is hollow, useless. “Don’t hurt him. He’s helping-he’s nice-”

Jake stumbled, his grip tightening, and you felt his chest tense beneath you.

"Keep you alive."

The creature's voice rumbled through your head, and he pulled even more energy from Jake now, a foreign heat flaring in your gut. You felt your limbs twitch slightly, your spine arching.

Jake stumbled.

It giggled again and opened your eyes. Your vision blurred a bit and then sharpened

Jake flinched. You felt it in the stutter of his breath.

His arms jerked, trying to let go of you, to drop you. But it was too late, the shadows started moving.

“Whoa, what the hell?” he gasped.

They wrapped around you, curling out from beneath your hair, your skin, the hollows of your eyes. Tendrils of inky black coil-like snaked around Jake’s forearms, snaring you to him as if the darkness itself refuses to let him drop you.

Jake panicked. “Jay?! What–what the fuck?! She’s doing something!”

Jay’s voice cut from nearby, alarmed. “Put her down!”

“I can’t!” Jake shouted. “She’s–she’s stuck to me!”

Your body shuddered again. The air rippled with heat and the scent of smoke. Jake groaned, staggering under your weight.

It kept happening. You couldn’t stop it. The warm waves of whatever the creature was stealing from Jake pulsed through your body, and with every pulse, the darkness around you blackened. 

It giggled again. You tried to bite it back, stop the creature, but the sound slipped free, breathless and feather-light. You started to feel like you’re drunk. Or dreaming. Or both.

Jake tried to let go again. You felt it. The twitch of his fingers.

But the shadows spilled out from under you like ink, curling around his arms and ankles. Holding him still.

Your limbs tingled from the heat still pouring into them. You felt high on it. 

Jake choked and staggered, dropping down onto his knees.

You didn’t want to hurt him.

But you were so warm now.

Somewhere, you heard its voice whisper through your mouth, giddy and breathless.

“Found.”

“Stop.”, you tried to say, but you were caged in the part of your subconscious that's yours and purely yours. You didn’t feel strong enough to even try to regain authority over your body.  “Please.” 

Somehow it listened. The flow of warmth ebbed, flickered, and cut off like a candle being pinched out.

And suddenly everything hurt.

The cold came crashing back. The pain in your limbs. The bite of wind on your wet skin. You gasped again, this time not with relief.

But with pain.

The shadows that had curled around Jake loosened. 

You blinked slowly, then lifted your head just an inch, enough to look at him.

“I’m sorry,” you wheezed, voice raw and broken. He froze at the sound.

Your lips were trembling from the cold and exhaustion. “I didn’t… it didn’t mean to hurt you. It was just trying to help me stay alive. I told it to stop.”

Jake’s jaw was clenched, breath ragged, eyes flicking from your face to the now-drifting shadows.

Your head slumped back against Jake’s chest, and you curled inward with a shiver so violent it nearly knocked the breath from your lungs.

Your body was on fire and freezing at the same time. Your pulse staggered, skipping beats.

The Virethar shifted softly inside your mind.

“I told it to stop,” you whispered again, barely audible.

Neither of them said anything.

Jake’s arms were still around you, but his grip was tighter now. Almost rigid. 

You tried to speak again, to tell him to just go, the creature would know what to do, but your throat was too raw. 

“It stopped,” Jake muttered, voice clipped. 

His breathing was ragged. 

Jay snorted beside him, not even trying to hide his alarm.

“Yeah? After it drained half your strength and wrapped shadows around your goddamn wrists?”

You blinked slowly, head pounding, they kept on talking, but your head felt like it's underwater, and you only caught fragments of their conversations. Jake’s arms trembled slightly under your weight. 

You wanted to tell them you’re not a threat.

You wanted to believe it yourself.

“She shouldn’t be this deep in Grey Pines,” Jay said, quieter now, but his voice drifted through the dizziness. “Not past the veils.”

Jake swallowed hard.

“Veilspawn, don’t just wander this far,” Jay continued. “It’s either lost or looking for something.”

You tried to lift your head but your body refused. 

“I don’t want to bring her back. Even if a veil spawn has taken her body, she is still human. Maybe the coven can do something to get it out of her.” Jake admitted.

Get it out of you? No! They couldn't! You would die the second it completely left your body. They can't!

Jay’s voice dropped to a whisper. “The Park Vault.”

“No,” Jake muttered, almost to himself. “That place is-”

“It’s warded. Sealed with witch-iron. If she so much as breathes veil magic in there, it won’t let her move. Maybe not even survive.”

You could feel your heart straining now. You try to speak. Beg. Tell them it was just the creature, not you. That you told it to stop. That you’re still you.

But nothing came out. Just a soft, broken noise.

“She’s not staying between our lines and theirs,” Jay’s voice drifted through the fog. “If this sets off a blood war, it’s on us. Not happening.”

Jake didn’t answer.

He just adjusted his grip, tighter now, like he’s afraid you’ll wake up and tear your way out.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, the same way you did earlier.

And then they started moving, carrying you deeper into the woods.

The walk was silent, even the forest seemed to hold its breath.

You were  barely aware of your surroundings anymore, just cold air against your skin, the scrape of branches, as the two picked up speed again. The world turned blurry again, not because of your head, but because of the speed they were moving.

The creature in your mind stired.

It creeped back from its place in your mind where it rested when you were in control, and you felt its presence uncoil like smoke, lazy but alert, drawn forward by something in the distance.

 It was interested.

Excited almost.

The air grew colder. You felt it even through the numbness.

Jake ducked low to enter the tomb, and the scent of damp earth and incense flooded your nose.

The moment you crossed the threshold, something clicked in the air. He stepped into a circular chamber, the walls carved with deep runes and overgrown sigils. The faint pulse of witch-magic clings to the space like mildew.

He lowered you to the stone floor, carefully, almost gently. You didn’t deserve him to be this gentle after you just almost sucked him dry. 

The instant your back hit the cold slab, the entire room responded.

With a sound like a slow breath, the tomb awakened.

Flames sparked to life in the sconces lining the walls. One by one. The runes etched into the floor blazed white, circling your body in a perfect ring.

Jake jerked backward, stumbling and Jay cursed under his breath.

Even the wolf let out a sharp, guttural snarl.

You completely forgot the wolf was there. 

It stood near the threshold, white fur streaked with old blood. Its eyes, glowing red, lock onto you. 

The runes should burn, you know that. They were there to keep creatures in pain, to weaken them until witches knew what to do, or to immediately get rid of weaker veil-spawns. 

But they didn’t. You felt them thrumming beneath you, alive with power but not against you. 

The Virethar hummed.

It’s… pleased.

“Witchcraft,” it’s voice vibrated though the back of your mind, “not for us.”

Your gaze sliped back to the wolf.

Big. Broad. Muscles coiled beneath fur like armor. A predator made of snow and shadow.

It should be terrifying.

But all you could think is how beautiful it looks in the firelight. The wolf’s red eyes are the last thing you see before you go.

Thank you so much for reading! Lots of Love, Patty ♡

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[shenanigans-and-imagines]

When Life Gives You Lemons

Bob Reynolds x Reader, Bob Reynolds x Thunderbolts!Reader

A/N: Are we back? Who knows. It's been a while gang. But, if you are interested in seeing more of this please COMMENT AND REBLOG!!! I NEED VALIDATION TO SURVIVE!!!

Summary: After a bad day, you decide to de-stress with some late night baking. The first problem you run into? You're out of lemons. The second? It's never just about the lemons.

Warning: Allusions to an emotionally turbulent household, Anxiety

Word Count: 2.2k

Today hadn’t been a good day, and it still wasn’t over. The clock on the oven read 2:03am. What you wouldn’t give to just close your eyes and let it end. 

Nothing had gone right. Granted, the team clashed even on their best days, but over the last few months nothing had flared up besides some gentle ribbing. 

This was different. The mission went to hell and while nobody was permanently damaged, accusations and tempers had been thrown in every direction. You tried not to let it get to you, but you knew the second everyone had stormed off to their respective rooms, sleep would not be an option. 

Instead, you were pulling out a freshly baked pie crust from the oven, dishes half done in the sink, preparing for the next step. Stress baking maybe wasn’t the healthiest for your sleep schedule, but compared to your teammates you considered it a relatively subdued coping mechanism. 

It was a testament to how occupied you were, that you didn’t immediately spot the figure in your periphery. 

“Hey.”

You moved on instinct. A knife found its way into your hand. Your body pivoted towards the voice as your arm pulled back, ready to throw.

“Hey, hey, hey! It’s me,” Bob said, his hands up and head ducked. 

You let out a sharp breath, letting your arm drop. 

“Bob? What are you doing up?” The adrenaline was quickly working its way out of your system, leaving the guilt to make a comfortable home in your stomach. “I’m sorry. Was I being too loud?” 

“No. No, not at all,” he said, shaking his head. “I was just…I was going to get myself a snack and well…”

You nodded, feeling some heat come to your cheeks. “Yeah.”

There was a small pause, neither of you quite knowing what to say. You could feel Bob’s eyes moving over your features. You could only imagine what you looked like at that moment. Messy felt like an understatement. 

“What are you making?” he asked in a tone too sincere to just be polite. 

You had to smile. “Lemon meringue pie.”

His face lit up, and you felt a small pride at being the cause. At least one person would like it. The fact it was him made the victory that much sweeter. 

“Do you want some help?” he asked.  

“Oh no, I’m okay. I’ll clean up my own mess.” 

He nodded in understanding, but you could just see his shoulders drop as his gaze turned away.

Guilt once again twisted inside you. Another misstep. You knew Bob just wanted to feel useful, especially after a day like today. Stupid. 

“If you could grab some lemons out of the fridge I’d appreciate it,” you offered. 

He perked up at that, rewarding you with a half smile. “Sure thing.”

You did your best to ignore the distinct thump in your chest as you turned back towards the recipe. It really wasn’t that difficult when you came right down to it. Now that the crust was done all you really needed was eggs, sugar and shit ton of lemon.

“Ah, is one okay?” he asked.

“What?”

“Yeah, that’s all I can find.”

You moved around the counter, taking a place beside him in the fridge door. Sure enough, not a single other lemon in sight. 

“How can we only have one? I swore we had more this morning.”

He shrugged. “Maybe Walker used them? He likes to put them in his water.” 

“Are you kidding me?!” 

You needed to breathe. You could hear the strain on your voice as your throat tightened with emotions you were too tired to name. You weren’t seriously about to start crying over fucking lemons. 

“We’ve got some apples in here,” Bob suggested. “What about an apple pie?”

You shook your head. “No, Yelena and Alexei are weird about it.”

“What do you mean?”

“Apple pie is considered the quintessential American pie. They both get real quiet whenever it’s brought up.”

He stared at you for a long moment, trying to make some sense of your reasoning before giving up.

“Okay. Chocolate?”

“Ava doesn’t like chocolate.”

“Banana?”

“I’m pretty sure Walker is allergic, but he won’t admit it.”

“Ah…” he paused, his eyes scanning the refrigerator for some other solution. It was a valiant effort, but it only made you feel worse. 

Add it to your list of mistakes for the day. You hadn’t even checked to see if you had all the ingredients before starting. It was baking 101. What was wrong with you today? 

“You know what, it’s fine. I’ll just go buy some lemons,” you said, shutting the refrigerator as you moved to grab your wallet and jacket.  

“It’s two o’clock in the morning,” Bob said. 

“We live in New York, somebody has to be open that sells lemons.” 

“Or you can just let the crust cool and finish it later.”

You shook your head, that ache coming back into your throat as pressure built behind your eyes. “No, I’m not going to leave a pie crust on the counter all night. I won’t even have time to finish it tomorrow anyway. I’m just going to go.” 

He didn’t say anything for a moment, his expression unreadable as he came to some kind of conclusion and nodded. “Okay. Just let me get my shoes on.”

You paused, your eyes widening. “What? No. Bob, get your snack. Go to bed. It’s late. I won’t be long.” 

“I know. I just…I’d feel a lot better if I went with you.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but nothing came to mind. He was pulling a fast one. He had to know you couldn’t say no to him, especially when he gave you that look. It was enough to make you believe all sorts of silly things. 

“Okay,” you conceded. 

He let out a breath, relief clear on his face. “Good. I’ll be right back.”

He wasn’t kidding. You had just gotten to the elevator when he came rushing back from his room. The only difference was the jacket he threw over his sweater and the pair of shoes he hadn’t even fully tied to his feet.  Hell, he still had his pajama pants on. 

“Ready to go?” he asked. 

There was no good answer. For not the first time, you felt the urge to reach out to him. You imagined what his hair might feel like between your fingers. You wondered what it would feel like to hold him and have him hold you back. You wished…well, you wished a lot of things. None of which you could say out loud. 

Instead, all you got out was, “Shoelaces.”

He looked down as if just noticing himself, his cheeks going distinctly red. 

“Oh yeah.”

He knelt down, just managing to tie them off as the elevator dinged open allowing the pair of you to step inside.

Neither of you said anything for a long while as you watched the lights mark your trek ever further downward. Coincidentally, the pit of your stomach moved at about the same rate.

You were being ridiculous. It was just pie. The logical thing to do would be to go back upstairs and forget the whole thing. But, no. Your stupid brain wouldn’t let it go. The very idea was sending you into a panic so bad your bones ached. And now you were dragging Bob into your nonsense. What was wrong with you? 

“You really don’t have to come with me,” you said. 

You couldn’t bring yourself to look at him, but you could feel his eyes on you. Air brushed lightly against your fingers as he shifted beside you, his hand not quite touching yours. 

“I want to,” he murmured. “I know it’s not about the lemons.”

You let out a choked laugh and then started to cry; hard and ugly. Whatever control you had over yourself was gone. The weight of the day, the lack of sleep, and the man beside you being so utterly kind cracked you open. 

Bob’s eyes widened in panic. Understandable. You couldn’t remember the last time you cried like this in front of anyone. It came out in heaves and barely contained wails like an old pressure valve. If there was a time for the elevator to suddenly drop, now was it. 

“I’m sorry,” you gasped, trying and failing to calm yourself. “I’m sorry.”

“No, don’t. Don’t apologize.” His hands reached out to you, but just as quickly retreated, his expression morphing into genuine distress. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything.”

You vehemently shook your head. “No, you’re right. I’m sorry. Let’s just go back upstairs. I’m being so stupid.”

“You’re not. It’s not stupid… I’m sorry, I was just–”

He was cut off by the ping of the doors as they glided open to the foyer. 

Bob glanced towards the opening. You couldn’t blame him for wanting to make an exit. Still, the seconds ticked on and he didn’t move, his expression a rapid series of contradictions. 

You felt compelled to say something. Maybe you should offer to go first, make some excuse about needing air. You doubted you were the first person to step out on the New York streets during an emotional breakdown. 

You didn’t get the chance. Before you could raise any objections, Bob pushed the closed door button. 

The air suddenly felt still in that small quiet space. The initial burst was over and now all that was left were the quiet streams of tears that ran down your face. 

“What happened?” he asked, gently.  

You took a shaky breath. Any dignity you had was long gone. What was the use of pretending otherwise? 

“I just can’t seem to do anything right. I let everybody down and…God, everyone is just so angry.” 

“I’m not angry.” 

You let out a humorless laugh. “No, you just think I’m a mess.”

“I don’t,” he promised. “I mean, I know you kind of are right now, but generally…I think you’re doing great.”

He was giving you that look again, the earnest one that always managed to make you feel somehow miraculous. At least, mostly always. 

“Thanks.”

Clearly, it wasn't the response he was looking for, as his brows furrowed. “Look, today sucked, but if anything the team is pissed off at Valentina, not at you. I can’t imagine anyone being really mad at you.”

“Yeah, okay,” you mumbled. 

“Why is that so hard to believe?”

Your head snapped up, finally meeting his eyes. You thought of your family and tip toeing around tempers before you could safely hide yourself in your room. You thought of nights soothing friends and lovers, and how they turned around claiming to never fully know you. You thought about all the ways you would try to make it right, and somehow come up short. And you thought of Bob and the way he was looking at you like he couldn’t conceive of a world where you weren’t adored. 

“I don’t know,” you confessed. “It just…it feels like my fault.”

“It’s not,” he said, softly. “I know that you..care. You care more than anyone else I know, about everyone. I look at you sometimes and I don’t know how to keep it all in your body.  It’s one of the reasons I–. It’s what makes you, you. But, you’re not failing anyone if you don’t perfectly predict everyone’s emotions all the time. And sometimes you mess up and sometimes things are just shit and you’ve got to move on. 

“Nobody is mad at you. We all care about you and if any of us were really upset, we’d tell you. You think for a second Yelena or Walker would keep it to themselves?”

You let out a laugh, cracked and wobbly, but a release you needed. 

“I guess not,” you admitted. “You really have been paying attention in therapy.”

He shrugged, granting you a wry smile. “It’s a process.”

You wiped away the remainder of your tears. Your head hurt. Your body was worn down. There was an uncertainty that still lingered. You doubted it would ever fully go away. Still, your chest did feel lighter.

“Look, if it’s important to you to get lemons then we’ll get lemons,” Bob offered. “But if you want to go back upstairs, then we’ll go back upstairs and that’s okay too.” 

Your heart squeezed and, for the first time in a long time, you could believe somebody else understood.

“We?”

He nodded and, for a second, you swore his cheeks had turned a shade pinker. “Yeah, we.”

You bit back a smile, turning your eyes towards the doors. “Let’s get the lemons. Honestly I’ve been craving this pie since we got off the Quinjet.” 

Bob made no argument, pushing the open doors button for the two of you to step out together. 

You weren’t sure when it happened or who moved first. All you knew was by the time you made it to the sidewalk, his hand was in yours. Neither of you said anything. Neither of you let go until you were back in the Watchtower, you on lemon duty while he did the dishes. And when he finished up, you stayed at each other’s side, sharing earbuds and talking quietly so as to not wake the others. 

You wandered to the couch at some point, waiting for the pie to cool long enough to put in the fridge. It was only natural to find yourself in his arms and just as natural to fall asleep. 

You’d face the consequences in the morning. Questions would be asked and you weren’t entirely sure of the answers. But for now, it felt right and neither of you were about to let go. 

[2000sangel]

Hi! Can I request Tenna with a reader who loves talking about their favourite shows? Like, if nobody stops them they could spend hours talking about what they liked/ disliked, theories about the plot, their favourite characters, etc? Though they might stop because they're afraid of being annoying

Hey there! Sure thing! I wrote this on my phone for a change, because man it's getting hot…especially in my room where my PC is. I hate summer sighs. Anyways, because of that the formatting miiight be weird…? Not sure, hope it's not and that you enjoy!!

And my apologies if you wanted a fanfiction and not headcanons! I thought they might fit better!

★ — ★ — ★

Tenna x Reader who's passionate about their favorite shows - Headcanons!

★ The first time you end up rambling about your favorite TV shows with your then close friend Tenna is because of a misunderstanding; he was admittedly feeling somewhat insecure that day, all thanks to viewer counts dropping, so he needed reassurance that at least you liked his show…but he felt rather weird asking you directly, for some reason. He always felt a bit nervous around you before you eventually started dating, and didn't love making a scene around you or moping around.

★ So the next best thing to do was asking you a very vague question hoping you'd give the right answer while you were chatting on break; “Say! There must be a show that no matter What, no matter where you are, keeps you on the absolute edge of your seat…No?” he had asked, wide smile ever present on his screen though one of his antennas appeared to be a bit droopy. 

★ He had asked the wrong vague question, apparently, because you started going on about your favorite shows for so long that you almost made him show up late on stage…and because of this misunderstanding, he performed quite poorly while on air, too! He had hoped for you to answer that your favorite show ever was TV Time, not to stay sat listening to you ramble on about how much greater and more entertaining these other shows must've been!!

★ This did not lead to a fight, because you quickly realized the situation and immediately apologized for missing the point of the question as soon as TV Time was over for the day. Still, you asked to please be more direct whenever he was feeling insecure about something, so you could answer his questions properly…! You Loved your friend's work, you just had been waiting for the chance to talk about the other shows you liked to him for a while!

★ Thanks to this small incident, Tenna became more attentive when it came to your interests; now in a relationship, he doesn't mind you bringing up other shows anymore, unless it's to compare them to his…but you would never really do that. You mostly like shows that have a cast of characters and a plot anyways, so a completely different deal than TV Time. 

★ Of course he knows the television world like the back of his hand! So sometimes, he can even discuss things such as theories and favorites too, if it happens to be a show he's also quite interested in and knowledgeable about! He tends to like comedic relief characters, he finds them silly, and quite enjoys Sitcoms, so if you're also into that you two might end up chatting about those for hours!

★ Tenna is a sweet talker, really; if you tend to apologize for talking too much or because you're afraid of coming off as annoying, he stops you right then and there, asks you to pause, rewind, and perhaps switch your channel to one that's airing ‘(Y/N)’s Outstanding Standings’ or whatever silly title he might give it to encourage you to keep talking instead!! If it's late and he has somewhere to be or something to do, he urges you to continue your rambling later on, and reminds you of it himself as he cares a lot and genuinely wants to hear it all.

★ He definitely surprises you by hosting a TV Time episode completely centered on your top favorite show, with themed quizzes and challenges! If you're the type to join as a contestant if he asks, he’s eager to have you on stage; but if you don't, he wants your reaction and thoughts immediately afterwards. Whatever kind of person you might be, he tries to keep it a secret until the end…acting Very suspicious, begging you to either participate or tune in for this very specific episode…you know from the start that he has something planned, and when it's all revealed, you just can't wait to plant a big kiss on his screen as soon as you can be back into each other's arms! 

[mymindisneverhere]

Favored

Summary: Khloé and Terry have both excelled in their careers and relationship together. But Khloé can’t help but to feel like she comes second to Terry’s new job. Despite her attempt to pick a fight with him, Terry ignores her antics and gives her what she really wants. 

Warnings: 18+ SMUT, angst, oral (f), unprotected sex, anal play. Khloé is a bit insufferable, nothing new. (Forgive me if I missed any)

Author's Note: I enjoy writing for Terry and Khloé, so why not bring them back. You don’t have to read Favors to read this but it is recommended. I don’t plan on turning this into another series, just wanted to write for these characters again. Enjoy! 🩵

A lot had changed since the night of Khloés grand opening of her restaurant Velvet Rose. After much success of her very first location she decided to open up two more locations just a few cities away from the original, one far north and one deeper in the south. The reviews were always great and the money was rolling in like crazy. She knew she’d be a fool to miss the opportunity to expand her restaurant. 

Customers from all over the country were traveling through the states just to dine at one of the luxury restaurants in Louisiana. People were dying to get a taste of her food as well as meet the woman behind the magic. 

While Khloé worked hard to keep her business afloat, so did her fiance Terry with her fathers business. After moving up the ladder at the job, he was now out of office and traveling to help scout new warehouses for the MacArthur business. He’d be scheduled to meet contractors across the country to discuss budgets and everything in between. 

With the two love birds running rampant trying to secure a stable livelihood for one another, it left no room for them to actually spend quality time together. They’d see each other a few times out of the month and then Terry would be back on the road for her fathers business. 

Khloé admired the fact that Terry loved working and took pride in not only his job title but her family’s legacy. However, she couldn’t help but feel as though she had taken a backseat to the very thing she had once made her whole life. 

-

Khloé had been quiet the whole ride, turning her body toward the passenger door to purposely close herself off from her Fiancé. Of course he noticed the resistance in her energy. Normally she’d be excited to hear all about his trip and in return she’d share all of the new things she had planned for their wedding. But this time was completely different. 

The newly engaged couple sat across from each other, picking at their food. Every question Terry asked would be met with a dry response or no response at all, simply just a head nod. Every attempt he made to strike up a conversation was met with a slight attitude from Khloé. Eventually he’d grown exhausted with her behavior and decided to pay the tab and head home. 

They pulled into the driveway after a silent ride to their estate. Terry carefully parked the car and pressed the button to shut the engine off. The entire car fell silent. He looked over at his fiancé, hoping she’d have something to say. 

Even if she were to start cursing him out that would be a relief for him because then he’d know she was still interested in being with him, still interested in marrying him. But he knew his woman all too well. He knew silence meant there was something deeper going on and he’d have to brace himself for whatever she was going to deliver to him when she finally decided to do so.  

“Don’t touch the door.” He said, watching as she began to lift from the passenger seat. 

Khloé sat back, slightly slamming her back into the seat, arms folded. 

“What is your problem?” He asked. 

“Nothing.”

“Why are you acting like this?” 

“I said nothing.” 

Terry took a deep breath in and out as he looked forward, staring at the home he had purchased for them just a few months ago. He knew how stubborn Khloé could be and although it wasn’t his favorite thing about her, he knew what would happen if he’d be the one to let his pride get the best of him once again. 

He turned his head again to look at her. 

“Any other time you’d open your mouth to say whatever is on your mind, so what’s stopping you now?” He asked sincerely.

“Any other time I would actually have something to say to you and right now I don’t.” 

“So silent treatment is your only option?”

“Guess so.” She spat, leaning against the door. 

“That’s immature Khloé.”

“Why do you talk to me like that?” She snapped, finally turning her attention directly toward him. 

‘Thank God!’ He thought. 

“Like what?” 

“Like you’re a fucking drill sergeant and I’m supposed to do everything you say!” “Don’t say this.” “Don’t grab that.” “Don’t touch the door.” “Don’t raise your voice.” She went on, mocking him as she made her voice a bit deeper to somehow mimic the way that he spoke. “I’m a grown ass woman!”

“You don’t think I know that?”

“Well since you know, stop yelling commands at me all the damn time!” 

“You think I want you lifting a finger while I’m around?” He started. “I barely see you as it is, I don’t want you doing much of anything while I’m here.” 

“I should be able to do whatever I want to.” Khloé responded stubbornly. She knew she didn’t want to open her own doors or even yell at him out of frustration. She didn’t even want to be on bad terms with him but here she was, trying her hardest to pick a fight when a simple conversation would suffice. 

He shook his head and wiped his face in a swift motion. Once again, he chose to swallow his pride and do whatever he needed to do to lift this resistance off of her. 

“Look baby, I’m not trying to boss you around. I’m just trying to be the man in this relationship.” He started. “Maybe I go about it the wrong way, maybe I’m a bit more demanding than I should be. I can acknowledge that and I apologize for it. However, ignoring me won’t solve your problem.”

Khloé sat quietly, unmoved but still bothered. 

Terry reached down to unbuckle his seatbelt and get out of the car. In usual routine, he walked around to her side and pulled the door open before leaning forward with his hand against the roof of the car. They stared at one another, not exchanging any words. 

Khloé then looked down, grabbing her clutch and stepping out of the car one foot at a time. 

Terry blew out an agitated breath as he took a step back from the car. 

She smoothed her dress down and pushed a few fly aways out of her face as she waited for Terry to close the car door. 

“What?” She asked. 

“You just gonna stand there or do you wanna go in the house?” Terry asked, reaching into his pocket to retrieve his keys. 

“You’re the one with the keys, you expect me to walk through the walls like a damn ghost?”

That statement alone caused him to clench his teeth before taking another step toward the front door. “You’re really testing my patience Khloé.” 

Terry looked down at his hands to search for the key to their home while Khloé followed right behind him, doing all that she could to get another reaction from him. 

“So now you have an attitude because I have an attitude?” She asked as she marched up to the front door, struggling to keep her balance in her heels. 

Khloé went on and on in Terry’s ear as he fought with the door to get it opened. She went on to tell him how he was wrong for not listening to her, although she refused to speak all day. She told him how he was more immature than her for matching her attitude, although he had done the total opposite. 

Khloé tried her hardest to make Terry argue with her but she was only proving to him what he had already suspected. 

Terry pushed the large door open and waited for Khloé to step in first before following behind her. He shut the door behind him and locked it, trying to ignore Khloés constant attempt to get him out of character. 

“You’re so occupied, you can’t even tend to your own fiancé. I wonder who has you so busy.”  Khloé asked, slamming her clutch onto the small table that sat in the foyer. She proceeded to turn the corner when she felt herself being yanked backward. 

“Come here.” He placed his hand at her waist and pressed her against the wall. “You have every right to feel how you feel but don’t play with me Khloé.” 

“There you go again,” She yelled. “telling me what to do.”

“Khloé, I'm serious.” Terry said, pointing a firm finger in her face. “I let you walk around with your lip poked out. I let you ride to the restaurant with your arms folded. I’ve let you get all of your frustrations out since we pulled up but you gotta chill at some point.” 

A lustful expression quickly washed over her face before returning to the frown she’d been wearing all night. She stared up at him, trying to hold her frown. Khloé was slightly disappointed in his response simply because it wasn’t the reaction she wanted… only part of it. 

As well as Terry knew Khloé, you would think she’d know him just the same. As quickly as she tried to shift her expression to appear frustrated, Terry hadn’t missed the split second of desire on her face. 

‘She needs some dick.’ He thought to himself. 

Her behavior had proved him right. So instead of actually arguing with her, he decided to just let her be. He didn’t mind giving in, she wasn’t going anywhere anyways so why stress himself? 

“Nobody’s scared of you.” Khloé stated, staring at his back as he walked away from her and into the kitchen. 

“I didn’t ask you to be.” He responded calmly. 

“You think standing over me and slamming me against the wall is supposed to stop me from saying what I wanna say?“ Khloé was right behind him, still trying her hardest to fight with him. 

“I didn’t slam you.” He chuckled at her dramatic ways.  

Khloé stopped in her tracks as she noticed all 32 of his teeth appearing. “What the fuck is so funny?” 

Terry removed his suit jacket and placed it on the back of one of the barstools. He pulled at his tie, undoing it as he walked over to her smirking a bit. 

“Why you wanna fight with me so bad?” He asked, pulling his tie apart and removing it from around his neck. 

“I’m not fighting with you. I’m just letting you know that what you just did isn’t gonna stop me from saying what I wanna say!” Khloé shot back. 

Terry stood towering over her with a smirk on his face. 

After the past few years he spent with her, studying her in and out, he had learned her all too well. She wasn’t really upset with him, she was just frustrated… sexually frustrated. Sure Khloé didn’t like being bossed around, she never did. But it wasn’t the demands that had her frustrated, it was the lack of dick she was getting that made it hard for her to follow them. 

Terry could never take any of her words personally and Khloé was never crazy enough to cross the line. This was her unique way of “communicating” but Terry had his way as well. 

“Okay baby.” He said with a soft smile. 

Khloé frowned as she watched him smile down at her. “Now you're trying to make me look crazy.”

“I wouldn’t do that.” He placed his hands at her waist and dropped his head to place kisses on her neck.

“Stop Terry.” She said, barely putting up a fight to stop him. 

“Why?” He asked in between kisses. 

“Because…” She replied, trying to hide the moan that left her lips. “I'm mad at you.”

“I know.” Terry tightened his grip on her waist and lifted her until she sat on the large island. 

She bit down on her lip, moaning from the feeling of her skin between his teeth. “So let me be mad.” 

“Go ahead.” He said, licking the spot just below her ear. The sound of her deep inhale made his dick stiffen. 

Terry lifted her dress and tugged at the thong around her hips until it snapped and fell to the floor. She leaned back, resting both hands on the counter as she let her fiancé leave passion marks along her neck and jawline. 

“What else do you need to say to me?” His deep voice startled her a bit, seeing as though she was so caught up in his touch and the warm feeling of his tongue. 

“Huh?” She breathed out, dropping her head back even more to reveal more of herself to him. 

Terry lowered his kisses down her chest, bringing himself down into the cut of her dress. Khloé was cooing like crazy, biting her lip as she pressed her chest against his lips. His eyes rolled up to get a slight view of her face, smirking a bit at the woman who was once trying her hardest to rattle him, becoming unraveled. 

“What did you need to say?” He asked, feeling the small bumps form against her chest from the combination of cool air in the room and his warm breath. 

“It’s not fair.” She moaned.

He curved his index finger around the thin strap on her dress and pulled at it slightly, dragging it down her arm. He did this to both straps until her breasts were bare. Her brown nipples were swollen buds that were yearning for his lips ever since they entered the house. 

Terry swirled his tongue around her areolas as he felt her acrylics against the nape of his neck. He wrapped his lips around her hard nipple and sucked it gently, licking her ever so often. 

“I’m listening baby.” He teased her, trying to pull one of her usual smart remarks from her lips. 

He wrestled with the swollen buds using only his mouth, knowing he was sending a flood to her center. She gasped and wined from the pleasure, wishing she wasn’t so weak for him. If only she was strong enough to keep her attitude, she would have proved her point… whatever it was. 

“I just missed you.” She whined at the feeling of him lowering his head towards her thighs. 

“I missed you too.” Terry wrapped his hands around her waist and softly laid her flat on the island. “What else?”

He pushed the dress up past her hips, leaving it wrapped around only her stomach. One by one, he lifted her legs, kissing them before pushing her knees back toward her chest. 

He pushed her legs apart slightly to watch her lips spread even more, revealing the glistening essence that shined from the reflection of the stove light. Inhaling quietly, simply to soak as much of the pheromones as he could, he could feel himself growing more and more in his dress pants. 

“It’s been so long.” She moaned in a soft voice trying to sound innocent. Terry chuckled lightly to himself, unable to believe that she could switch her voice from booming throughout their chateau to barely above a whisper. 

“Too long.” Was the last thing he stated before running his tongue through her slit, indulging in the wetness that always tasted so sweet to him. 

Khloé gasped once again, this time louder than before. No matter how many times they had fucked, made love or had a few quickies, it always felt like the first time all over again. 

Terry moaned against her clit from the sound of her voice. He loved how reactive and responsive she was every time they’d come together. He didn’t care how whipped he appeared to be. There wasn’t anything in the world that could stop him from devouring her at any given chance. 

“I didn’t mean it.” Khloé whined from the joys of his tongue caressing her clit. She was biting back, trying to keep herself from apologizing. Her stubbornness just wouldn’t allow her to. 

But that was fine because Terry didn’t need an apology. He just needed her to talk, to tell him how she was feeling. Even if that meant hearing her beautiful moans in between each confession. 

Terry gently licked her clit, barely applying any pressure to the sensitive bud. She rocked her hips forward as much as she could trying to feel more of him but his grip on her thighs made it difficult. 

“Stop playing Terry.” She said, reaching down to touch his head that had been freshly cut just hours ago. 

“Say what you need to say.” He mumbled. 

She kissed her teeth and stared up at the tall ceiling. 

“You work too much and I don’t like it.” After finally blurting out what she had been too hesitant to say, she yelped as she felt her clit in between his lips. 

He sucked, rotating his head slightly. Rubbing the back of his head, she let out an exaggerated “Yesssss…” that blended into a hiss. 

“I just wanna see you more.” She moaned.  

Terry licked and sucked on her clit as he listened to her cry out all of her frustrations with him. It was as if the more she communicated with him the more his hunger for her grew. After he spent that lonely year without her, he decided on the night they rekindled that he’d never be without her again. So if she was on the brink of cursing him out while his head was in between her legs… then so be it. 

Khloé knew she had created a monster. A man that was once so focused on making money to simply get back on his feet, had suddenly become so ravenous and undisciplined whenever she was around. Would he still do his part within the family company? Of course. But there was never a time that they were in the same room and he would be able to keep himself off of her. 

“Wait baby, I don’t wanna cum yet.” Khloé cried, wanting to hold onto this moment for as long as she possibly could. 

“That’s not up to you.” He quickly stated before latching himself back onto her clit. 

By this time, Khloé had placed both of her hands on his head desperately trying to free herself from his grasp. She just wanted a moment to come back down so that she would have to be built back up again. But fortunately for the both of them, Terry had no plans to release her any time soon. 

Khloé knew that if he was already making her cum this soon, she’d be coming for the rest of the night which meant exhaustion the next day. 

“Fuck Terry!” She yelled, trying to squeeze her thighs together to stop him but that was a failure. 

She could feel his baritone as he moaned while bringing her to her climax. That feeling coupled with the warmth of his tongue and the smoothness of his lips sent her over the edge. 

Khloé cried out, letting her voice echo throughout the kitchen into the great room and down the corridors. Her body shook as the grip she had on his head began to loosen. A few more tender licks on her clit caused her body to jerk, making her breasts bounce from the reaction. 

“Ugh, I hate you so much.” She breathed out, dropping her hands to her side and relaxing her body. 

“That’s too bad, get up.” Terry placed just a few more kisses on her above her hips before standing to help her get on her feet. 

He turned her around, facing her against the counter with a clear view of their front yard through the large window. With her breasts exposed, he wanted to be sure that whoever drove by could get an idea of what was happening in the dimly lit kitchen. 

Terry rocked his hips forward, rubbing his hard bulge on her ass. He wrapped his hand around her jaw gently and pulled her head back to get better access to her neck again. He felt that he needed to leave a few more marks on his territory so he did just that. 

“People are gonna see.” Khloé moaned, eyes closed from the feeling of him gnawing on her neck. 

“They’ll enjoy it.” He muttered against her skin. 

While he continued leaving his love marks, he undid his pants. Pulling himself out of his dress slacks, he rubbed his tip in between her lips. Coating his head in her juices. Not bothering to give a warning, he pushed himself into her slowly, listening for the gasp that was bound to leave her lips. 

Khloé leaned forward onto the counter with her arms stretched out in front of her. Her jaw dropped while her eyes rolled into her head from the feeling of him stretching her tight pussy. 

“You feel me?” 

“Yes baby, I feel youuu.” Khloé whined. 

Terry placed his hands on her hips and pulled himself out. Pushing back into her slowly to hear her gasp again and watch her body shake from the feeling. He rocked his hips back and forth slowly, looking down at his dick to watch it shine twice as much with each stroke. 

“Terry I can’t.” Khloé cried, leaning even further onto the counter. 

His strokes were deep, so deep that Khloé could feel herself slightly lifting onto her tiptoes in an attempt to “run”. But even that was a failure due to the tight grip he had on her hips. The stretch was a mix of plain and pleasure, both too intense for her to handle at the moment. 

“Yes you can.” He said. 

“Oh” Khloé let out as her jaw dropped even lower. 

Terry's strokes were extremely slow. He’d fill her all the way up, pressing his hips against her ass, then pull back to leave her walls vacant. The way she took him in, molding so perfectly around his girth made him wish he could stay inside of her all night. 

“Fuck.” He whispered harshly. 

Terry fucked her long and slow, listening to her whine and attempt to apologize. His eyes were focused on her ass, the way it jiggles with every move he made. He couldn’t help but to slap it a few times, completely caught up in the sight and the pleasure of it all. 

Khloé didn’t have a choice but to relax. Terry wasn’t letting her move any time soon. She was pressed firmly against the large island, scratching at the marble surface. 

“Keep talking.” He said. 

“I’m finished.” She breathed out. 

“I know you’re not.” Terry placed both hands on her ass and spread her cheeks gently. A long string of spit fell from his lips into the crack of her ass. Using his thumb, he smeared it right over her tight hole before pressing down. 

Khloé hissed at the feeling. He knew how much she loved being filled like a bowling ball. Finding a rhythm that worked for the both of them, Terry pushed his thumb in as he pulled his hips back. Then proceeded to fill her walls again and leave her third hole empty. This drove Khloé crazy. 

“Oooh fuck yes!” Her tone dragged out as she tried to speak through her moans. 

“Keep talking.” He said once again. 

“Stay home more.” She said in between strokes. 

His pace increased. Both his dick and thumb working her over. Her words were blending into one another. Her sentences were broken. There was no room to focus on her speech because well… she was cumming. 

“Yes!” She screamed. Her juices flowed so quickly causing his dick pop out of her. Dropping her head, she took this short moment to catch her breath and find her senses. 

Terry pushed back into her before reaching forward, wrapping his hand around her neck. Lifting her off of the island, he brought her ear to his lips. His hand slipped in between her legs and found her clit, wet and sensitive. He toyed it in circles as he fucked her, this time as hard as he wanted. 

“I love you.” Terry gently spoke in her ear. 

Khloé was back in her trance, pleasure written all over her face as she held onto his arm. Her eyes were crossed, her mouth was open and her cunt was stuffed nonetheless. 

Terry could see her expression, he wanted her completely wrecked by the time he was done with her. He kept speaking to her, doting her all while fucking her senseless. 

“Oh my-“ Khloé said before taking a deep breath. 

She was cumming yet again. The feeling of him teasing her clit made the pleasure too intense. She could feel her legs buckling. Terry removed his hand from in between her legs and wrapped his around her waist. He was gonna milk her as much as he could so she’d have no reason to be mad at him any time soon. 

“You done?” Terry asked, still fucking her as if she hadn’t cum enough already. 

“Yesssss.” She cried, overwhelmed with ecstasy.

His grip on her waist tightened along with his balls, heavy and ready for release. He closed his eyes as he emptied himself into her, body jerking a bit from the feeling. He stroked just a few times more before loosening his grip altogether.

Khloé fell forward onto the island, placing her face flat against the cold surface. Her breathing was heavy and her eyes were low. All she needed to do was find the strength to carry herself to her room and go to sleep there. But luckily, she had a man to do it for her.

“Come on.” Terry tapped her hips, signaling her to stand so he could do what he always did. 

Terry lifted her and the two made their way to the bedroom. A quick shower for the both of them and they were both out for the night. 

My favorite love birds 🩵 Please excuse any mistakes

[yuurivoice]

It has been a challenging couple of weeks. Being sick, dealing with a sick cat, another cat recovering from a surgery, and just trying to find my way back into some kind of normal routine has been tough.

Add on going without an important medicine, meeting with a new doctor, and bullshit financial shenanigans.

Then the business side of things. Views are down across the board, I'm wondering if I need to rethink the release of Evalas content, titles, thumbnails, or if enough people really want it to risk tanking everything I've built.

Twitter, holy fuck Twitter. My reach has been massively restricted. I don't know what it was, but you can see where things dropped off. It's not that there's a lack of interest (still steadily getting 10%+ likes of all views more or less) but my stuff just isn't getting to people like it did a month or two ago.

So of course, this also hurts the plushie sales. But given the state of the economy and the world, the fact is I think we'd be very lucky to hit 350 sold. Which is a shame because like always, the tides will turn and suddenly everything is hot again and people are wishing they would have known there was a plushie.

It's a whole lot all at once. Had a few breakdowns and there's some cracks in the armor. The world doesn't get to stop turning when I'm inconvenienced. And I can't be a machine, as much as I wish I could.

The list could go on, but the bumps are less and less significant and I'll just be whining.

But fuck, man. I have to shake enough of the distress to get up and fight back, and I know how to pivot and adjust and try new things. I've done it a million times. I just have to get up off the fuckin mat.

Thank you for all the kind words, all of you who have been locked in and see the excitement I'm working with. I just have to figure out how best to serve it up.

[lynxgriffin]

Yeah, the fact that Noelle can equip some swords is fairly ominous! And It's definitely interesting that the shard is one of those few objects that doesn't seem to change between worlds. Just really wonder what is going on with the Knight that they can look like that even jumping between worlds!

Yeah, it's honestly something I really appreciate about the fandom. It's also just a cool time capsule to see what people thought might happen between chapters, and what people prioritized, and then how those priorities and ideas shift with new information. If Undertale was in part a warning to players that overusing a game will detach you from its characters and world, I really feel like Deltarune is an encouragement to engage in fandom in order to take characters beyond what's already been set out for them.

Mmm no, I believe that part of chapter 2 did happen...it showed Queen's car in that scene, and the little bit you do drive her car she literally just has you barrel through everything in the way. That said, it really does feel to me like Susie is the lynchpin to change how the prophecy goes, just based on what Gerson tells her throughout chapter four. What that ending is, though, still don't know.

The images we see describing the heroes are frustratingly vague. Even the silhouette of "the girl" I feel has a duck-or-bunny situation where it could read as Susie facing left with her hair behind her, or Noelle with her hood up and wearing the tattered wings. Hell, I'd even say Ralsei is not 100% certain...during the sermon, Catty describes one of the heroes as being fluffy with horns, and sounding cute. Is that Ralsei or Asriel? Who even knows right now!!

It's hard to focus on because I feel like that could apply to any one of the main characters, or to none at all and something else entirely. All options would be bad!

Heck, right now I'm already afraid of the fact that there is a scary amount of foreshadowing that Kris will lose a hand before we're done!

Geez I have no clue how to choose. Hard to go wrong with Black Knife in chapter four, of course...but I think a lot of my favorite tunes are weighted towards chapter four. From Now On, Hammer of Justice, Gya Ha Ha! are all bangers... Right now I've got Second Sanctuary on repeat. Heck, even 12AM might be my new melancholy "Quiet Water"-esque favorite.

It really does seem to be there's some bigger conspiracy at work with people working with each other in different capacities...Kris and the Knight are involved, Kris and Carol are involved, Carol and the Knight are involved, Asgore is in that mix somewhere as well, and possibly also Alvin?? Honestly I'm going to need a Pepe Silvia corkboard or something to try and work it all out in my mind.

Dragon Blazers is such an interesting aspect of the game, because Dragon Blazers is the in-text media that Deltarune uses to talk about itself. (Cat Petterz almost seems like the inverse of this, the off-the-beaten-path game in comparison to Dragon Blazers' more straightforward adaptation.)

And yeah, that very well could indeed be a reference to something happening to Dess...I think that was a thought some folks had even before the new chapters. The "stay in the party" part could just be about reinterpretation telephone, yeah. It'd be really nice if we had a copy of Lord of the Hammer and knowledge of what happens in Dragon Blazers to compare, but I don't think that'll ever happen.

The prophecy is so vague on both the terms and symbology used that it could refer to Susie and Kris or the Vessel and Noelle. I don't know if we can say for sure that it's not one or the other. I lean towards the latter because I do like the idea that Susie is the wrench in the prophecy, but there's just as much evidence towards the fact that it IS supposed to be about Susie and Kris.

But man, after Susie's whole development where she's so excited about finally being picked for something, about actually being a hero...getting that rug pulled out from under her is going to really hurt if it happens.

[kittymary50]

About Bleach ship wars

I’ve just found out Kubo said he was listening to the auditions for Kazui, which of course made me think to Bleach ships and I needed to get one thing or two off my chest.

I’m not even a IchiRuki shipper (I’ve always been more interested by the relationship between Ichigo and Uryū anyway), but it always amazed me how Ichihime fans can’t seem to understand why some people ship IchiRuki so hard. Their most common argument being “Blame the anime”.

If Ichihime fans want to blame somebody, it should be Kubo. He’s the one who, even until now, keeps promoting IchiRuki and focusing on them. If he had written Ichihime so perfectly, like their stans claim it, there wouldn’t be ship wars at all. After the Bount Arc, Kubo was involved in the anime and had all the power to develop his endgame couple. Did he do so? Nope, never. So stop blaming Abe because Kubo could very well do Ichihime fillers if he was interested in it. But he wasn’t and still isn’t. Probably never will. Doesn’t sell enough, I guess.

A canon couple doesn’t mean it is a good couple.

Shinichi and Ran from Detective Conan? Jinshi and MaoMao from The Apothecary Diaries? God, you can feel how much the boy fell in love for his girl, and how much romantic tension there is between the couples. It is literally thrown at your face. Ichigo? He has never shown love towards Hime, not in the romantic sense. Orihime loving Ichigo isn’t a golden ticket to have Ichigo love her back. If Kubo really planned IH from the start, as he said (my ass), I’m genuinely worried because the non endgame pairings (Ishihime and Ulquihime) had more chemistry than the canon pairings.

Do I think Ichigo should absolutely have ended with Rukia instead, then? As I said, I’m not a IchiRuki shipper, so no. I wasn’t expecting this couple, since they are from two different worlds and work perfectly fine as friends, soulmates or whatever Kubo think they are. What’s more, Ichigo not being an orphan (unlike Naruto, where I can understand the reason to make him marry and have children), I don’t see the need for him to absolutely have a wife and kids. He seems like the type who can live alone without any problems. You can be alone and still succeed and be content with your life. Or do people living alone means they all failed in life? Anyway, I still doubt the relevance of a time skip over an open ending; Kubo would have avoided many problems.

However, I understand why people ship IchiRuki: they have legitimate reasons to (Rukia’s name, drawings, symbolisms, etc.) IH has none of that, and Kubo can add as many IH scenes in cour 4 and listen as many auditions of Kazui as he wants, Ichihime will never be a great couple. Kubo developing IchiRuki so much and being surprised when out of nowhere he made a pairing he doesn’t care in the slightest canon will always be funny to me.

Besides, shipping aside, they all deserve better (especially Uryū, give my man all the love in the world, he deserves it). But as long as their pairing is canon, I guess Ichihime fans don’t feel concerned too much about the ending.

[th3r3dw00dtr33]

Strangers || Obey Me! x Reader

I was craving a little angst today. Let me know how I did in the comments! Also, please let me know if you'd like a part two!

TW: Angst, Swearing, Spoilers

READER IS NOT MC .

.

.

Why were you in jail? It wasn't like you did anything illegal, but you'd just so happen to be at the wrong place at the wrong time. You were also terribly unlucky, but that was already a given based on your current predicament...

You were framed with murder.

How you didn't know. Why, you also didn't know. The only thing you knew about the case was the penalty.

They told you themselves: You are to be sent to a place far beyond this plane (a different universe), doomed to be a stranger for the rest of your time there. (This wasn't like the penalties back where you were from, but you didn't want to be stuck in prison for life.)

It seemed light, for a punishment, but you shrugged it off with a 'It's probably normal here.'

But they also told you how you were able to choose where you were to be sent.

You, being the person you were, immediately thought of a game.

You were a part of many fandoms. You loved indulging yourself with these different pieces of media. Of these, Obey Me was a game you particularly liked.

How could you not? The characters were stupidly hot and complex at the same time, and the plot and setting were interesting enough to keep you invested. There were a whole lot of reasons you could list off as to why, but to keep this short:

You loved Obey Me. You loved the characters just as much as MC, if not more.

Which is why you chose that world without a second glance.

Oh, how stupid you were.

.

You had walked out of the shining, blue portal, taking part as a new demon (though you're technically a human) student at RAD. Despite this being a punishment, you had been really excited to finally meet these characters in real life.

Being strangers doesn't mean you couldn't work towards a friendship, right?

You had forgotten this was supposed to be punishment for a murderer, even if you had been framed.

LUCIFER:

He was walking down the halls in a particularly bad mood, after several all-nighters to finish his workload of paperwork.

He turned the corner, making his way to the entrance of the school, greeting the new students who poured in for the new term.

Lucifer handed one student a map of the school, something he and Diavlo should've implemented beforehand, with the increase of new students attending. (MC was an example. Mammon did not do a very good job with the tour.)

The new demon had tried to make small talk, and Lucifer didn't snap, knowing full well how it would impact Diavolo's image.

"This is the map of the school. Please familiarize yourself with the layout of the building." He paused, "I also advise you to keep your thoughts to yourself."

He didn't care about the wording at the time― it's not like it mattered much anyway.

The demon paused, bowed their head and walked away. Looks like they got the hint.

Well, he may have been a bit rude to them on their first day, but he was too prideful to take anything back at that point.

Plus, it was Hell. Demons can take a comment or two.

After some time, he would occasionally see the new student across the hall or in the classroom.

Sometimes he would check on them to see if they were adjusting well, but he didn't bother too much with the demon when he had a human exchange student to watch over.

They never really responded, but he just assumed they were shy.

He didn't bother to ask for their name. When MC had asked him about them, he just let out a "Do you really think I have the time to memorize everyone I meet at RAD? Besides, most of the students here aren't too special. Don't worry too much about them."

He could if he wanted to, but they were just a stranger.

MAMMON:

He met them in one of the two history classes. He forgot which one, but can you blame him?

The second-born had just asked to borrow a pencil, but turns out the demon only had one, so it didn't matter anyway.

When he asked, they had perked up slightly at the question.

He automatically assumed it was because the GREAT Mammon was gracing them with his attention, but this was the only time he actually got it correct.

"Ya don' got a pencil? Lame."

He was cheerful for the rest of the class, despite the fact that the lesson was boring and Lucifer forced him to do it.

He pretends not to notice when they shrink away from his comment.

He pretends that they didn't manage to make him feel important— something his own brothers never tried to accomplish.

But he, too, forgets about them pretty soon.

What can he say? Mammon's a hustler, ya know! He barely remembers the names of those he makes a deal with, let alone a random student in his class!

He would also see the demon occasionally, but they've never exchanged greetings.

When MC asks him about them, after telling him how they felt something was off, he replied, "Come on, MC! Ya can't expect me to remember every face I meet, right?"

He pretends not to notice how they seemed to care about him, despite barely knowing him.

He pretends that ignoring them doesn't impact him at all.

After ignoring them for so long, Mammon truly forgot about their existence. But what can I say? They were just a stranger, after all.

LEVIATHAN:

Leviathan was an anxious wreck.

Lucifer didn't let him participate in the online schooling, with the new year beginning, so he was forced to attend school.

With all these normies...

He hated 'normies' to a certain extent, and being surrounded by so many was getting on his nerves.

Which was why he turned and walked away the moment a demon walked up to him.

He didn't know the demon just wanted to talk a bit, but this was Hell. Demons don't do that without an ulterior motive.

He didn't notice how the demon deflated with a small frown from the reaction. He didn't care— it's not like he knew them.

"Stupid normies," he would mutter as he scurried away to his next class.

Over the next couple of weeks, he would bump into the same demon during the lunch rush. Every. Time.

He would always turn around and walk stiffly away in the opposite direction, even if at times they hadn’t tried to initiate any forms of contact or conversation.

He hated 'normies' like them, and being around demons of this sort would only prove how he was nothing but a stupid otaku.

Oh, how he envied them... it just wasn't fair.

When he had the competition with MC on TSL, he could see them in the audience, watching them― him intently as if they were hoping he would win.

It unnerved him― why were they looking at him like that? They were only strangers; it wasn’t like a 'normie' like them would want to hang out with an otaku like him.

Especially one who avoided them every turn he took.

After the competition (a failure on his part), he found the same demon walking through the halls.

They were trying to comfort him. Him out of all demons?! Leviathan snapped, and he realized too late.

His anger, accompanied by his envy, flared, "Stupid normie, screw off. I don't need your fucking pity, so you'd better suck it before I rip you apart and feed you to Cerberus."

At the time, he didn't care how the demon's face grew alarmed.

He didn't care how their face scrunched up, and they fled the hall.

He only looked back with slight guilt a couple of weeks after, but it was too late. He couldn't find the demon anywhere.

But it was fine― they were just a stranger, right?

SATAN:

The fourth-born was usually found in the library, but this time was different.

Lucifer, his delightful brother, had oh so graciously piled on paperwork to his own workload, effectively shutting down his free time at the library.

As you could probably see, Satan was pissed.

There had been more cursed books he had wanted to check out at the library, but was unable to due to the paperwork.

And this didn't help when a random demon crashed into him and his stack of books.

It was after the TSL competition, and Satan, being the demon who was at his final straw, was seething.

It didn't matter if the demon had apologized and tried to help him pick up and reorder the books. It didn't matter if they already looked hurt and panicked.

"Leave," Satan growled with his wrathful aura, "Leave and watch where you're fucking going next time."

These books were a special part of his collection, and he already had enough to deal with.

The demon had run away, and the fourth-born was left by himself.

Sometime later, in about two days, he would find the same demon sitting in the library.

They looked like they were studying for a test on a topic on which he had a lot of interest.

He didn't bother to ask for their name, nor exchange a greeting.

He didn't even ask if they needed help.

Satan didn't care. It wasn't his business in the first place, unlike with MC, where he felt obligated to help as a member of the House of Lamentation.

He just walked past the demon with a frown, as if the demon were a figment of his imagination.

Had I seen them before?

ASMODEUS:

Asmodeus was the Avatar of Lust.

He didn't truly love anyone but himself (or so he thought), but he cared genuinely for others' physical appearances.

Which is why, when he met a demon after the two-night trip to Diavolo's castle, he gave them tips for their skin routine.

The demon had approached him and asked, obviously shy, and he cheerfully handed them a tube of his extra lotion.

"Everyone deserves to look pretty, but obviously I always look the best~" he had said.

He didn't care about the demon themself, but if someone wanted help on their appearance, who was he to refuse?

He hadn't seen the demon before, so he assumed they were new.

Asmo knows most of the school body, so it was a surprise that he didn't at least know of their name.

Sadly, he was pulled away by his brothers before he could ask.

After a while, he forgot about the situation with the new demon student entirely.

They should understand, shouldn't they? Asmo, being the most beautiful creature there is, couldn't possibly make time for everyone, right?

So when the demon came up to him and thanked him for his advice...

"Oh! Yes, those were basic dos and don'ts of skincare, you shouldn't thank me. Though, have I met you before?"

He prided himself on being able to converse effortlessly with those around him, so it made him cringe internally at how bad it sounded.

His eyes caught the reflection of his face in a nearby mirror, and Asmodeus, the narcissistic and vain fifth-born, was entranced.

How long had he been staring at his reflection?

How long had it been since they had left with a frown on their face?

BEELZEBUB:

Beelzebub was the one who was always hungry.

What can you expect? He is the Avatar of Gluttony, after all.

Something that most demons won't know, however, is how Beelzebub hates seeing someone else hungry.

Sometimes, if he had a lot of food, he would save a little bit. Just a little, enough for them to last a bit.

Which is why when he saw one of the new students sitting in the corner without any food, he assumed they were hungry.

They looked hungry, he'd argue, they aren't eating anything.

The demon wasn't, but they sat straighter when they saw the sixth-eldest walking towards them.

He'd place a singular chocolate bar on the table and slide it towards them.

"You... you look hungry," he would say, and they'd thank him.

If it were any normal demon, the Avatar of Gluttony wouldn't share his food just like that.

But they weren't. They, despite being a demon, reminded him a bit of MC.

It was odd, but he didn't pay it any mind.

For the next couple of weeks, Beelzebub would bring extra food.

If the demon wasn't eating (they said they didn't have enough money for lunch every day), he'd slide them a chocolate bar.

It became a little routine between them, even if they barely knew each other.

He would make his way to the table in the corner every lunch, the one they always sat in.

Even if one day the demon disappeared entirely.

BELPHEGOR:

They didn't meet until a couple of months into the school year.

It was after he killed MC― the last thing he wanted to do was go to school, but it wasn't as bad as it would've been if he were stuck in the attic.

The Avatar of Sloth met the demon during one of those classes with the boring lectures.

They didn't interact much at first, each to their own.

Great, another random demon... was what he thought before— they were both at the back of the classroom, right beside each other.

It took a couple of days before he realized the demon wasn't half bad; they were actually pretty chill.

They watched his back when he dozed off, prodding him awake before the instructor could catch him asleep.

He appreciated that, so he would often give them good dreams so they could be well-rested for the day.

It wasn't until they had a big upcoming test that he grew anxious.

Belphegor had dozed off way too often, causing him to miss important bits of the lectures during class.

He didn't realize the demon who always sat beside him saw his troubled resting expression.

He didn't hear the rustling of papers nearby as they placed down an extra copy of their notes onto his desk, along with a note.

When the youngest of the seven brothers woke up, his eyes fell upon the pages on his desk.

The name [Name] [Lastname] was written on the corner of the first page in a foreign handwriting.

He smiled faintly, tucking the papers into his bag.

When Beelzebub asked him about his mood, he couldn't help but explain everything. (He isn't one to hide things from his twin.)

The day after the test, he placed the papers on the demon— [Name]'s desk, along with a note of his own that expressed his thanks.

[Name] never came.

DIAVOLO:

The Prince of Devildom is a busy man demon.

He has his dreams, his goals, and his ever-increasing paperwork.

The Prince of Devildom is a very busy and important demon, so why would he pay attention to a random student like them?

It wasn't that Diavolo didn't care; he definitely did, but it wasn't like anything about that demon stuck out.

He is a demon who cares about his people and definitely the students in his school. But even if they weren't, he would still care.

Prince Diavolo was like that.

But he was only like that to those he knew and saw.

The new demon student wasn't one of them.

Once, they had been running down the halls and nearly bumped into him.

At the time, Barbatos hadn't really moved, much to Diavolo's surprise. Perhaps he saw something..?

Probably, but his attention was snapped back to the demon who bowed their head and apologized profusely.

"Ahaha! It's alright, just watch where you're going next time and try not to run in the halls."

After that, he didn't really see the demon much.

They had always been so nervous around him; he just didn't want to scare them too much.

Soon after, that interaction was drowned by the other memories and plans he had until it vanished.

MC had asked about the demon, but Diavolo didn't know and redirected the question to Barbatos.

They were just a stranger, after all.

BARBATOS:

The Prince's butler never interacted with the demon.

He was also very busy helping Diavolo and the maintenance on the castle.

Yet, he saw the demon in one of his visions.

He knew how they were framed, how they were sent from another universe, how they were just a human.

But he never dared to say anything.

He never told Diavolo exactly what happened, just said that there would be some surprising information arriving soon.

He saw how they had loved them as characters in their world. Saw how they chose this as a hopeful act.

He also saw how this punishment would break them.

When MC had asked him about them, a thought struck his mind.

Why would he let them break like this?

Oh, right.

Barbatos didn't say anything because he didn't want to disrupt the flow of time again.

That's what he told himself.

He did it for MC because he loved them, but he wouldn't risk such a thing for them.

He didn't have the right to do this again.

"This was supposed to happen."

After all, they had nothing between them. They were merely strangers.

Things like this happen to strangers all the time.

SIMEON:

Simeon had a neutral feeling towards demons.

He doesn't hate them, nor does he particularly like them.

Don't get me wrong, he is mistrustful of demons with no particular connection to the demons he's known, like that demon student.

They shared a couple of classes together, along with that one lecture with Belphegor, and he always noticed them at the back.

Don't think he didn't caught on to their little routine of one sleeping and the other keeping watch.

In his opinion, after taking note of their behaviour, the demon had a great personality.

He would've dismissed them as a human or angel if it weren't for your demonic aura. Which was weird in of itself.

The two actually met when the demon had accidentally bumped into him.

While Luke was busy scolding them for not watching their step, Simeon took this as an opportunity.

"It's quite alright, Mx," he would ask, "May I know your name?"

He found them interesting and a great influence for Luke, though the latter may pout and whine at first.

They were much nicer than he expected, honestly, and (much to his surprise), they were very polite and apologized.

Over the next weeks, he would sometimes find the demon, whom he came to know as [Name] [Lastname], sitting in the back of classrooms.

He would exchange greetings, but even the older angel wouldn't say much afterwards.

They were still a stranger, after all.

LUKE:

Luke disliked demons. Greatly.

He was an angel who reported directly to Michael, and so he shouldn't be the one who joined Simeon at RAD!

I mean, he was right!

These good-for-nothing demons keep calling him a dog! A dog!

He met the nice demon when they accidentally bumped into Simeon.

They had been rounding the corner, and the demon was carrying a stack of papers for a teacher.

"Hey! Watch where you're going! As an angel who..." he gave a minute-long talk about watching where they're going.

He hadn't expected the demon to apologize― so genuinely, too!

Well, this demon was a lot nicer than the others... but don't tell Simeon he said that!

He didn't know their name, but they became one of the demons, the only demon he actually felt safe with.

It was odd; they acted so much like humans instead of demons.

They even patted his head when he said he missed the Celestial Realm!

Luke pretended not to notice when a fight broke out among a group of demons.

He didn't notice when the very demon who patted his head was running away from the group with bruises and scratches littered all over their arms and legs.

Looking back at it, if he had helped, would they have stayed?

In the end, they were nothing but a stranger.

SOLOMON:

Solomon was practically the strongest sorcerer both alive and to ever exist.

He was one of the exchange students at RAD, wandering about the halls of the school.

The classes and lectures the teachers gave here were things the sorcerer had already known or experienced himself.

Yet there were two things that grabbed his attention.

One, being how MC had made pacts with most of the Seven Avatars, something he had struggled to accomplish.

Second, being the demon whom he had come across earlier, who helped another with a kindness he'd never seen in a demon before.

The first one was frustrating, the second was just weird.

He observed the demon from afar, taking note of how they were often overlooked by the demons around him.

He took note of the one thing everyone around him said when he asked about them: they were a stranger.

Solomon knew demons very well, having made a pact with seventy-two.

This... person was no demon. He was sure of it.

Creating a demonic aura is a hard spell to cast, even for me... he thought, They have little aptitude for magic within them... I wonder who cast it.

He never approached them, researching on what they were instead of who.

When they disappeared one day, he could only chuckle.

That demon was still a stranger, despite his observations.

MC:

MC is someone who has had both great luck and horrible misfortune.

From making pacts with the demon brothers to getting killed by Belphegor in the attic, they've seen a lot of weird occurrences during their stay in the Devildom.

They've never expected a demon to save them from being eaten.

Especially one who had the task of taking their soul.

MC had been on their way to one of their classes when they were cornered by a group of demons.

But the demon had told them off and helped MC to get on their feet.

MC was confused, but grateful nonetheless.

They later knew their name as [Name] [Lastname], but their rush to different classes soon disrupted their time of getting to know each other.

MC asked Lucifer, Mammon, Diavolo, and lastly, Barbatos.

It felt weird to them that none of the demons gave her a proper answer.

Barbatos made her feel like he was hiding something.

The next time they saw them, [Name] was running from the same group of demons who had cornered MC earlier.

They had tears streaming down their face with cuts and bruising littering their limbs.

But MC had been busy talking to Simeon and Luke, and they pretended not to notice.

They found them, a day later, stepping through a portal of blue.

It made them think, in another world, could they've been friends?

It was a shame, they realized, that they were merely strangers in this one.

.

.

.

[Name] [Lastname] hated this place.

The Devildom was horrible.

They had been ignored, looked over, bullied, hungry...

Why were they here again?

A blue portal popped up in front of them. Oh, right, they were framed for murder.

The people had found the real murderer and sent for [Name] to be retrieved.

They were a bit too late, anyways.

.

.

.

Diavolo was sent a letter regarding the disappearance of one of his students.

Usually, if someone went missing, there would be a report of them moving, expelled, or dead.

There was none for [Name] [Lastname] until now.

Diavolo didn't know whether or not to be relieved, shocked, disappointed, or frustrated.

Word got out among the exchange students and the RAD student council.

Some didn't care, others felt guilty.

Diavolo couldn't help but scoff.

In the end, despite all of [Name]'s unseen efforts, they were still nothing but a stranger.

[doctorbunny]

The Curious Case of the Kashiki Family Discrepency

So, I'd thought that we'd had Yuno's family situation figured out for some time now

Her 7th question of her first interrogation Q "Tell us about your family." A "Grandpa, Grandma, Mom, Me, and my little brother <- Yura"

And her dad's not around. (In theory he could be dead, but given her lack of sentimentality around the whole thing.... He probably just dipped out, either just after she was born or possibly even before then. At Most he might've returned just long enough to help make Yura, then disappeared into the night like a deadbeat tomcat -which was irresponsible but isn't necessarily a bad thing, as Amane knows, not everyone is fit to be a parent and its not like Yuno's had anything bad to say about the rest of her family)

But then I was looking over old minigrams and noticed something odd

Yuno mentions having younger brothers, plural

At first I thought it was a typo, but in the Japanese she says 弟たち/達 Otouto-tachi Otouto meaning younger brother, and -tachi, making it plural

If this was an error, it'd be a pretty obvious detail to mess up not once but twice

So that begs the question: Why does Yuno only bring up One younger brother?

There's a few possibilities: A) Yuno Really Hates her younger siblings with the exception of Yura (I'd say this is Highly Unlikely but also the funniest option) B) Given her single mother, Yuno's younger siblings may be half siblings to different fathers, and given how full to bursting the Kashiki household is already, those kids might live with their dads Meaning Yuno had to keep them all entertained if they ever visited, but she might not consider them to be in her 'core family' so to speak, especially if they don't visit all that often (I'd say this is more likely than A, and could apply alongside C if she's got more than two younger siblings) [Japan doesn't legally have dual custody, but if both parents are on speaking terms and are fine with it, the kids can as much time with the non-custodial parent as they want] C) [and this is the one @archivalofsins was leaning on me most to talk about, but admittedly is also what first came to my mind] One of Yuno's younger brothers fucking died-

And if this is the case, then we may be learning a lot more about this in her T3... (her VA did say on milgram radio we'd get to see a very different side of her this time round)

We don't know much about this hypothetical brother, but given how Yuno expects her cat's cradle to impress Amane, it may be a good bet to assume he'd have been around 12 too.

Alas, beyond this minigram, things get a bit... circumstantial However if we work based on the assumption that C is correct, then how does that colour Yuno's attitude throughout milgram?

Well, some of that probably depends on how he died, but for maximum angst.... lets suppose he'd been terminally ill [looks at Mahiru]

For starters, it'd give some interesting contexts to one of the first things we learn about Yuno from her website bio:

誰のどんな話でもニコニコ聞いてくれるが、暑苦しい精神論のようなものは嫌い。 No matter who, or what the conversation is about, she listens with a smile, but she despises stuffy ideas like seishinron.

If you've never heard of it, seishinron is the idea that anything can be overcome through sheer willpower alone. [There's lots of different ideas that are similar to this, in the US many people believe they can 'manifest' good health and future success, and that unhealthy/unsuccessful people merely didn't Think hard enough] There's many reasons one could consider this flawed. But an experience with terminal illness would be Sure to leave someone feeling angered at the idea if you had a problem you just weren't determined enough to solve it. Disease doesn't work like that.

It'd also explain why simultaenously Yuno talks positively of her family

But then also says stuff like this

Given that Yuno referred to meeting with her clients as 'reloading the warmth' I doubt the sex work was the main cause of her feeling so low... (In fact she seemed get into it as a means to distract herself From this coldness. And TBH if we try to think about depressing things that would take an otherwise good family's attention off you... I'd say dying younger brother ranks pretty high on the Bummer Scale)

Such a vivid experience with death could also lead into how Yuno says that she doesn't care about anyone, but then becomes one of Mahiru's main carers, seemingly round the clock

a role she takes very seriously to the point that Shidou suggests she get a career in healthcare (which she takes as such a serious role as to reject the idea outright, sure she's stepped up in milgram but in the real world, surely such positions would be filled by even more dedicated people-)

Only to then afterwards change her tune and say that Actually it doesn't matter at all, only murderers died, its her own fault for getting too close to the others.

Ever the Kazui foil, Yuno might be using apathy to defend her own heart. You can't be hurt by death if you don't get attached to anyone... Well you can try at least.

Or maybe I'm totally off lol... that's enough speculating for one night

Needless to say, I don't think Yuno's doing too well, it can be hard to admit you're struggling when your baseline for suffering is 'Well at least I'm not literally dying'.

[rosy-crow]

🍽 for Sephiroth!

AAAA HI THANK YOU THIS MAKES ME SO HAPPY

🍽 - A special treat of their choice

Writing Prompt

It was the first time Sephiroth visited Angeal’s room in the SOLDIER barracks, a living system arranged to meet the basic needs of those in the elite division located just below the SOLDIER floor, that he saw just how alive and bright the space one slept in could be. It was as if Angeal had cut away a slice of fertile earth and placed it inside his room, blessing it with greenery and vibrance comparable to a botanical garden.

The living quarters had photos pinned and hung on the walls with clips, plant pots decorating the window sill at the far end or lining the kitchenette counters, and little golden lightbulbs on strings dangling over everything, lighting up the scene. Additionally there were two bunkbeds, a vintage desk, and an obviously thrifted dinner table made of old oak in the center of the room. Every string bulb and drooping ornament tinkled when the wind from the open city-view window breathed into the otherwise still place.

Angeal had made a barren, base necessity into a home. And it was beautiful.

Sephiroth tentatively moved into the foreign world, looking around like a child in a candy store, eyes wide with reverence, admiration, even anxiety. He was so lost, but so found.

”Here we go,” Angeal said with a grin, gesturing to the table where a number of coupons, flyers, and menus that the young man had proudly collected lay in neat alignments. “We can go anywhere you want. I have coupons for takeout, a few steakhouses, some really good lunch bars, old diners…some decent 24/7 breakfast joints…”

Angeal began to name some of his favorite restaurants in Midgar. Of course Genesis had discovered many of them, but Angeal had done the work of documenting and reviewing each one, determined to know the city’s food culture inside and out. Sephiroth listened with a soft smile, but curiously and to his own dismay, he felt a lack of interest even as Angeal listed off the reasons to explore each one. Perhaps Sephiroth simply wasn’t hungry….but no, that wasn’t true.

”So yeah, I know we don’t know your birthday exactly, but I think tonight would work just fine. We’re off duty and I know Gen wants to go out on the city,” Angeal went on. “You still haven’t been out there much, right? We gotta get you outside. You’re so pale and you need some good food. The Shinra rations aren’t it. You obviously could do with some more genuine substance and—“

”Angeal….”

Sephiroth interrupted as if waking from a fever dream, his thoughts finally coherent. Angeal was surprised, but nodded at once.

”What’s wrong?”

”I….” Sephiroth shifted to lean against the wall. He folded his arms and looked back at the flyers and coupons. “I appreciate this gesture, but I would rather stay here….”

“Stay here? But Sephiroth, HQ is no place to stay in on a special day! Even the rec room isn’t all that interesting…and it’s crowded. The city would be a good adventure for you….” Angeal protested. But Sephiroth sighed and bowed his head.

”Well, it’s not so bad….in this room….and I would rather eat something you cook….,” Sephiroth admitted. He seemed a tad bashful. “Genesis said you’re good at it….”

Angeal looked touched. His smile returned with a bright energy that lit up the room twice as much and he glanced to his tiny kitchen space.

”Well, that I can do….if that’s what you really want….” Angeal said in a pleasant tone. It was his turn to be bashful. “What would you like me to make? You can choose anything. I’ll find a recipe. Even if it’s something with snails…I’ll try my best…”

Sephiroth chuckled with a hand covering his lips. He hummed for a moment and thought on the question. Anything. Anything he wanted. Something special….

A sweet, inexplicable memory of warm fragrance and orange lanterns strayed into his mind….turmeric, oregano, and nutmeg…a gentle golden color…

”It’s nothing too special…but I have an idea….” Sephiroth nearly whispered, his eyes blooming with nostalgia and hunger.

-

”Ok, try it and tell me what you think,” Angeal demanded as cheerily as could be. He set the steaming bowl of rich, creamy soup on the table in front of Sephiroth, who sat across from the leering fox of a teenager, Genesis. The latter smirked at the sight of Sephiroth’s pupils growing from narrow slits to tiny black UFOs in neon green skies. It was beautifully hilarious.

”Try not to drown in it, hero,” Genesis teased, resting his elbows on the table and leaning forward to watch as Sephiroth lifted his wooden spoon to try the soup. Angeal was practically biting his nails in anticipation.

Sephiroth eagerly took his first bite of the spiced warmth that he had harbored a long and unexplained craving for. As he tried it, he realized it was as cozy as Angeal’s room, and it carried a pleasant bubbling heat that soothed his chest and stomach as he began to garble down more and more. It was savory, yet sweet like honey at the same time.

So this was pumpkin. So this was good food. So this was joy, once again, discovered for the first time via another medium and delivered by the caring touch of dear companions at his side. Sephiroth suddenly stopped short after a minute, having inhaled the food, and brought his hands to his face to smother a fit of childish laughter he couldn’t contain.

”Is….it good….?” Angeal stood watching in bafflement, unsure of whether to join in or be unnerved by the odd reaction. Genesis was overanalyzing the moment with sharp eyes alone, saying nothing.

”My….” Sephiroth was a boy in that fragment of time. Giggling uncontrollably at a dinner table while surrounded by tender, amber light and the youthful faces of his friends. “My heart is beating so fast. It’s just funny…I ate too quickly, I think…it…”

Angeal was struck with a bolt of relief and Genesis scoffed off the same feeling of release.

Well, that was…endearing. Unexpected, but endearing.

”I’m glad you like it so much,” Angeal said and ruffled Sephiroth’s hair with the pride of a complimented cook. He grinned at the young hero. “Happy birthday, Seph. You can have as much as you want! I made some apple cake too. So save some room for that.”

”He does make the best apple cake,” Genesis admitted. He leant back in his chair and nodded to Sephiroth. “Happy birthday, my friend.”

”Thank you,” Sephiroth said once his laughing had waned and he was left flushed, starry-eyed, and afloat with serotonin. “But first…I’ll have ten more bowls of this….and I want to try the chicken with it…and the bread…and the salad….”

”Angeal, he’s going to end up in a coma…” Genesis sighed, palming his face with his usual dramatics.

”I don’t care as long as he gets some damn fat on those bones for once!” Angeal retorted. “I want him looking like my mom’s chunkiest barn cat by the end of tonight.”

This time they all laughed.

[socratesgirlnextdoor]

sorry don't hate me but I don't think I'm alone in saying that I mourn Soulless Spike sometimes. ATS s5 Spike, while some of his decisions about not contacting Buffy are quite odd to me, is proof that Spike could have been this in BTVS, but it was too soon and not enough had happened yet for him to return to his full identity.

but besides that. so much fanfiction I read is about preventing the need for Spike to find a soul. and I think that's so interesting because truly, like how Spike's demon fell in love with Buffy, we all fall in love with Spike the Neutered Vampire. If it wasn't for the chip in his head, everyone would be a goner (lmao no buffy would stake his ass but you know.)

But something the show goes into a little when he's soulless is that after years of abstaining, he no longer wants to bite or hurt people. In 6x09, when he thinks his chip has stopped working, he does immediately go to kill someone, but he sort of has to hype himself up to do so. He has to remind himself that he wants this. He wants to be a monster. One episode earlier, we learn that without his memories, Spike doesn't feel the need to bite anyone as a vampire and assumes he helps people because he doesn't want to.

This is about Buffy so it's a little less significant because Spike not wanting to kill Buffy makes sense because he's in love with her but in 5x07, in a fit of rage he is loading his shotgun and tells Harmony that he's going to shoot her through the searing pain, which accidentally reveals that Spike has had the ability to kill her or anyone this entire time, but he's never really wanted to in the last year, not enough to go through the pain.

And even when he points the gun at her (which, in a joke in season 4, shouldn't be possible because he points a fake gun at xander and he gets a headache), nothing happens because he wasn't going to shoot her.

Don't get me wrong, Soulless Spike loves to kill. Souled Spike gets a rush on it too, but he transferred all of his killing and passion towards demons and Buffy that his desire to kill humans has poofed and he's too close to them now.

And the writer of The Initiative episode calls it the episode Spike gets a Clockwork Orange'd and BTVS touch on the point that what they do to Spike is inhumane in itself, but dude oh the possibilities to get into with the question of how this inhumane act is what puts Spike into a position where he slowly becomes a part of human society as well as vampire society.

But fuck, what an arc. I understand that it isn't a supreme message to say any old vampire can be soulless and good (even though they sorta did that) but I mean, that's why his good actions always meant more. Him protecting Dawn meant so much because why on Earth did he grow so close to her? And we know that vampires can love, if not wisely, and fuck I don't know.

The show does get into this, also, the whole thing about how separate the soulless and the ensouled are because a soul is implied to be a filter for morality, an ego, and Spike's filter for morality is based on how it affects Buffy, and I understand that that's not sustainable, but. I don't know.

It's weird because I don't want to separate the Spike I loved for 4 seasons from s7 and ats s5 Spike because late season 5 and some parts of season 6 soulless Spike are good even without a soul.

Like yes, no morality, evil, bad, not a long term thing. But the show never completes the question of Buffy and Soulless Spike's relationship, like obviously they wouldn't have become so good without the soul, the show argues (and sure that makes sense), but like hey! show can you tell me why they are like that then and the significance of that before you give me New Spike?

I don't know. I don't know!