#i do not understand why she falls for him

[derinthescarletpescatarian]

Idea for an isekai where a Horse Girl and her beloved (fairly new) horse get into a riding accident and end up in a fantasy world where equestrianism is highly prized except the girl ends up int he body of a marvellous prized horse and her horse ends up in the body of its owner, a fancy nobleman. He can magically speak the language (as characters who end up in fantasy worlds frequently can) but he has no social knowledge or graces whatsoever. Also, he is kind of an arsehole. They're telepathically linked and she has to train/bully him into being a decent enough human that they can coast on their perfect synergy as an equestrian pair (their telepathy helps a lot there). This is incredibly important because they need to be together to find a way home (they would both very much like to be their normal species again), and if he disgraces himself too badly or falls victim to the political machinations of his enemies he might lose his status and lose the right to ride such a prized horse.

The drama comes from examining both human politics and horse politics, two fish out of water trying to meet their personal goals and improving the world around them while they do it, him becoming more empathetic and her becoming less naive as they both gain wisdom, protecting themselves from social plots that they're not equipped to handle... and mostly, this guy finding ways to smuggle a very expensive horse into various places that a horse cannot be so that she can help him understand what the fuck is going on.

Why yes I am coming up with this at 2am, why do you ask.

[hanniebaeee]

The Wedding Heist

Danceracha x fem!reader

Warnings: some threats

Genre: Best friends to lovers?, fluff, angst

Summary: Your parents are forcing you to marry a man you don't love or even begin to think of a life partner. You're being kept locked at your home, and your best friends (well, it's obviously more than friendship here) are planning a wedding heist - stealing the bride on the wedding day!

a/n: Also from a dream I had 🤭 Also I don't hate Yeonjun (or me) - just a character in the story !!

The smell of something burning filled the boys’ apartment, but Minho barely noticed as he stabbed furiously at the wok with his spatula. Two other pots boiled on the stove, one very close to spilling over.

But he didn’t seem to care. If he didn't keep moving, he was pretty sure he’d implode.

In the living room, Felix was a mess - blotchy tear-streaked cheeks, and brownie crumbs everywhere. He sat cross-legged on the sofa with a giant plate of brownies in his lap, sobbing as he shoveled the treat into his mouth.

“I j-just don’t understand!” he wailed, crumbs spraying everywhere. “Why isn’t she texting back?!”

“She obviously doesn’t have her phone, Yongbok,” Minho said, his shoulders sagged under his own misery. “Her parents must have taken it just to make sure we can’t talk to her.”

Felix’s face crumpled. He let out another sob and crammed another brownie into his mouth.

“W-We’re supposed to protect her! But we're just sitting here and letting her suffer! What if she thinks we don’t care?”

Across the room, Hyunjin was perched on the window sill, staring into the night like a lovesick Victorian poet. He hadn’t spoken in days, his brooding silence actually starting to make the atmosphere even more miserable - if that was even possible.

His hair was unkempt and dark circles shadowed his eyes - he has done nothing but mourn your absence from his life.

Minho side-eyed him while poking furiously at his chicken.

“Alright, broody. That's enough. Both of you, stop. This isn't doing us any good!” he snapped, and Hyunjin hopped off the window sill, glaring at Minho. 

“You think I’m sulking? She’s getting married - to some random asshole who doesn’t deserve to breathe the same air as her - and you’re over there making soup!”

“It’s a stir-fry,” Minho deadpanned. 

“She’s probably crying herself to sleep, and you’re stir-frying?” Hyunjin hissed. “We should be doing something! Not standing around like idiots while Yeonjun gets to -”

Felix burst into fresh sobs at the name.

“Don’t say his name! Please!” He said, hiccupping through the tears. “He doesn’t deserve her. He doesn't…What if she's moved on? What if -”

Hyunjin whirled around, facing Felix, taking two steps towards him. 

“Don’t you dare.” His voice was low and he sounded so furious, Felix looked terrified. “Don’t you dare question how she feels. She loves us. She’s just… stuck. You know that.”

Minho groaned, tossing his spatula onto the counter.

“Okay, this won't do. Hyunjin, stop scaring him. And Felix, you know her better than anyone.” He said, glaring at both of them. “We’re not sitting around and crying anymore.”

“We’re going to…going to stop the wedding, then?” Hyunjin asked, his eyes moving from Minho to Felix.

Felix sat up straight, brownie crumbs falling down his sweater.

“Ok, so we find out where she’s being kept, get her out of there, and make sure her parents know they can’t control her anymore.” Minho offered, and Felix just looked at Minho and Hyunjin with wide eyes, his mouth falling open. 

“Alright, but we need to be smart about this. Her parents are probably watching her like hawks.” Hyunjin added. 

“Let's do it then.” Felix said, finally putting the plate away and brushing the crumbs off him. 

The car was parked a safe distance from your family manor. Everything was so silent, but the tension inside felt like a blaring alarm.

Hyunjin sat in the driver’s seat, staring at the security guards patrolling your front yard. Felix was watching from the back, and he already looked so discouraged, it was sad. Minho, on the other hand, looked like he was about to start breathing fire.

“This is ridiculous,” Minho spat. “What do they think she’s going to do? Tunnel out of the house with a spoon?”

“M-Maybe they think we’re going to rescue her…” Felix hiccupped, his red-rimmed eyes peeking out from under his sleeve.

Hyunjin gripped the steering wheel so hard, his knuckles turned white.

“We can’t even get close to her,” Felix choked out. “She’s right there, and we can’t do anything! What if she thinks -”

“She’s not going to think anything,” Hyunjin said softly, but there was a shadow of doubt in his voice.

He looked back at the house, the corners of his mouth tightening. Minho, however, wasn’t having any of it. He slammed his fist against the dashboard, startling both of them.

“No. No way. We’re not giving up. If we can’t get her out now, we’ll do it when it matters most.”

“What do you mean?” Felix blinked at him, sniffling. 

“The wedding. If they want to lock her up until she says ‘I do,’ fine. Let them think they’ve won. But when she’s at that venue? She’s ours.” Minho said, his jaw clenching. 

“You’re saying we crash the wedding?” Hyunjin raised an eyebrow, completely invested in this plan. 

“No,” Minho said, a devilish smirk forming on his lips. “We steal the bride. We’ll take her someplace where she can actually be happy.”

---

Back at their apartment, the boys huddled around the coffee table, a hand drawn map of the wedding venue (courtesy Hyunjin) spread out in front of them. Minho was pointing at various parts of the map with a chopstick like a general planning a siege.

“Felix,” Minho began. “Your job is the most important. You’re going to sneak into her dressing room and get her out. I hope you're good at climbing because -”

“I’ll climb whatever you need me to climb!” Felix interrupted, looking determined.

Minho gave him a half-smile.

“Well, you'd climb in through her window for now,” he said. “While you’re doing that, I’ll create a distraction to draw security away from her side of the venue. Fire alarms, and maybe some smoke bombs -”

“Smoke bombs?” Hyunjin cut in, looking suspicious. 

“Don’t ask questions you don’t want answers to,” Minho shot back, smirking. “Anyway, while we’re at it, Hyunjin will have the car ready and waiting.”

“I can handle that.” Hyunjin said, arms crossed and leaning back. “But what about after we get her out? They’ll chase us.” 

“Let them,” Minho said. “She's an adult. She can easily make a police complaint about being kept locked in, and maybe get a restraining order or something.”

Felix bounced in his seat, as he said, “This is gonna work. I know it will! She’ll see us, and she’ll know we’re there for her.”

Hyunjin gave a small smile and said, “She’ll know.”

It was the day of your wedding, and you were sitting in the dressing room, suffocating in the layers of white silk and lace - waiting for your death sentence. The pressure in your chest grew with every passing second. This was so wrong. This whole thing was. 

You stood in front of the mirror, staring at your reflection with terror. The dress was stunning, yes. But it didn’t feel like it belonged to you. Not when you had no say in it. 

Memories of last night surfaced and you felt extremely nauseated. You'd begged Yeonjun to reconsider this insanity. You’d pleaded with him, told him how you didn't want this.

But his response had been one that you'd never forget. 

He'd sneered at you and grabbed your chin so harshly as he said, “You’ll learn to be grateful for this. I’m going to teach you your place. And when I'm done, no one's gonna want you again. Especially those losers you call your friends.”

You felt your stomach churn. You weren’t afraid of him - no, not really - but you couldn’t deny the power he held over you. 

The power your own parents had bestowed upon him. Because they thought it was ok for him to threaten you into submission. 

And that terrified you.

More than anything, the thought that you'd never see Felix, Minho or Hyunjin ever again - that crushed you. There wasn't a night that you didn't cry over how much you missed them. They meant the world to you.

You walked towards the giant window, gazing out while considering climbing out. You wondered if that was actually feasible when suddenly, a face appeared just in front of you.

A very familiar, and very attractive, face.

“Felix?” you gasped, your heart leaping into your throat as you quickly grabbed his arm helping him through the open window.

He was dressed in a white suit that made him look like the literal definition of an angel sent to save you. His eyes were wide, and he looked like he was ready to weep.

“Oh my god, baby…” Felix whispered, and you barely had time to process this before he was pulling you into an hug.

The sob that escaped you was strangled and pained. You wrapped your arms around him, clutching him like he would disappear any minute.

You weren't even sure if you were hallucinating from hunger and exhaustion or if he was actually here. What helped was his scent - he smelled like vanilla and something spicy. And more than anything, he felt like home.

“Oh my god, Lixie, what are you doing here?” you asked breathlessly, tears streaming down your face.

“I’m here to take you home, of course,” he said softly, cupping your cheeks and brushing his lips against your forehead before moving to kiss you full on the lips - deep and slow. This was your first time kissing him, honestly, it sent shivers down your spine. You could feel his heart racing against yours, and his hands slipped down to your waist, holding you tight against him.

Felix was here. And he was taking you away.

He pulled back, his eyes taking in your wedding dress and a soft smile grazed his face as he said, “You’re so beautiful,”

You could see the lust burning in his eyes, a hunger that he was trying so hard to suppress. But there was no time to indulge in it now.

“Come on,” Felix whispered, taking your hand gently and guiding you toward the door. When he opened it, you gasped loudly, because you saw Minho stalking towards you and Felix with a smug grin on his face. 

“Minho!” you said, as your heart pounding in your chest. He was so damn sexy in his suit, his expression a perfect mix of arrogance and affection.

He didn’t even give you a chance to react before he was pulling you into his arms, wrapping his arms tightly around you.

“You're not getting married today, sweetheart,” he whispered, his lips brushing against your ear.

You blinked at him as you tried to take this all in. You were sure your life was over till about five minutes ago. You were scared to even hope, because at this moment, you had a lot of it flowing through you. 

You glanced around, looking for Hyunjin. But you don't have time to ask where he was, because at the exact moment a shrill sound fills the area.

A fire alarm. The wail echoed down the hall, and you could hear a soft hiss of smoke drifting from somewhere in the building. There were people running towards the source of the sound and the smoke filling the area.

“Minho…” you said, your voice almost incredulous, “Did you set off the fire alarm?”

“Would you prefer I hadn’t?” Minho teased, and Felix chuckled softly behind you.

You didn’t have time to process what was happening before Minho was pulling you in for a kiss of his own. And the look he gave you promised you something safe and beautiful you couldn't have dared to dream of until a few minutes ago. 

“We're taking you away from all this,” Minho said, breaking the kiss. “You belong with us.”

As if on cue, you heard the door swing open from the other side, and Yeonjun’s voice cut through the air like a knife.

“What the hell is going on?!” he bellowed, his face twisting in rage. “Where is Y/N?!”

The three of you ran. It was an absolute pain to run in that damn dress (which you thought was why Yeonjun wanted you to wear it in the first place - so you can't run away from him). And those heels - you kicked them off and Felix quickly lifts the front part of your dress a bit so you weren't tripping on it. 

And you ran.

Minho pushed open the door and you could hear Yeonjun’s loud voice even through the fire alarm. And the three of you raced down the steps, and there. 

Leaning against a sleek black car was Hyunjin.

Your heart skipped a beat. He looked even more stunning than usual in his suit. But it wasn’t just his looks that made you shiver - no. 

It was the way he stepped forward, grabbing you by the hand and pulling you into his chest. And again, he stole your breath away (like he always did) by kissing you. 

Hyunjin kissed you right in front of Yeonjun, and the kiss was rough and desperate, like he’d been waiting for this moment forever.

Yeonjun stood frozen for a moment, as the wedding guests and your family surrounded him. Obviously, there wasn't much he could do anymore. His perfect reputation was at risk here.

Hyunjin pulled back, his hand still gripping your waist as he gave Yeonjun a cold glare. And then taking your hand in his, he slipped your engagement ring off your finger, and tossed it towards Yeonjun, who looked like a volcano ready to explode. 

“Not today, you loser,” Hyunjin said with a smirk, watching as the ring tumbled through the air and landed at Yeonjun’s feet with a soft clink. “Not my girl.”

You were frozen, your heart racing as Minho and Felix joined you and Hyunjin, keeping you well shielded from your parents’ glare. But no one said anything.

Not a word.

Felix squeezed your hand, and Minho patted your shoulder as he watched you gaze at your parents who didn't look apologetic at all. Hyunjin pressed a soft kiss on your temple before leading you toward the car. 

And as Hyunjin opened the car door and grinned at you, you knew. It wasn’t just the end of a wedding - it was the beginning of your life, your new life, with your three beautiful boys. It was complicated, yes. But one thing you knew for sure was that they'd never let you shed a tear again.

And hell, you couldn't wait for whatever this was because you were finally with your boys. 

Divider - @saradika-graphics

Tags: @moonchild9350 @velvetmoonlght @eastjonowhere @pixie-felix @sailor--sun @satosugu4l

[killerelysia]

Bro Luna's one of my fav OCs I wanted to write something for her. I legit love the OC please, Plus their art is chef's kiss! Do I need to say more?

Before the Disaster... (The kid at the back) Crowe x OC! (Not Sol, Sorry)

(The OC belongs to @kazueisaloser)

Happy belated birthday to Luna (Please give her a happy ending, Oh creator)

It was always another day.

Luna sat at her usual spot her eyes fixed on the horizon. The sunset painted the sky in breathtaking strokes of gold and crimson, but she felt none of its warmth. To her, it was just another sunset, another reminder that beauty existed in the world—just not in her.

Her fingers absentmindedly tugged at the hem of her oversized sweater, one that hung loose enough to hide everything she hated about herself. She didn’t even know why she wore it anymore; nothing ever seemed to help. Her reflection in the glass caught her eye, and her stomach twisted. The faint outline of her face felt like an accusation, like it was mocking her.

Her heart sank as a familiar wave of self-loathing began to creep in.

"Why can’t I just… look normal?" she thought bitterly, her nails digging into her palm. Her reflection stayed silent, staring back with empty, striking blue eyes that she could never bring herself to like. People often told her how beautiful they were, how beautiful she was, but the words fell flat. They didn’t see what she saw. They didn’t have to live in her skin.

The compliments always felt like lies, cruel little reminders of a world that refused to understand. Even when her friends laughed and joked with her, even when strangers turned their heads to admire her, Luna could only see flaws—glaring imperfections she couldn’t escape.

The sun dipped lower, and shadows began to spill into the room.

She let out a shaky sigh, resting her forehead against her knees. The room felt so cold, so unbearably quiet, save for the muted hum of her thoughts echoing louder than she could handle. She wanted to scream, to shatter the silence and tear apart the version of herself she couldn’t escape.

But she didn’t. She couldn’t.

Instead, Luna stayed there, She clenched her fists tighter, tears pricking at the edges of her eyes. She hated this—hated herself. No matter how much she tried, she couldn’t stop comparing herself to everyone else, couldn’t stop wishing she could tear herself apart and rebuild someone better. Someone worthy.

"Why can’t I be enough?"

The thought hit her like a punch to the chest, stealing what little air she had left. Her breathing hitched, and before she knew it, silent tears had begun to fall. They streaked down her cheeks, hot and unrelenting, like they’d been waiting all day for this moment to spill out.

And yet, even in her lowest moments, she bit her lip and swallowed her cries,

Determined to wear her soft smile again tomorrow.

After all, it was what everyone expected.

Crowe stood a short distance away, staring down at the bouquet of roses in his hands. The soft rustle of the petals as the evening breeze passed through them reminded him of her—delicate, beautiful, and entirely unaware of her own brilliance. The note, folded neatly between his fingers, felt heavier than it should have, its simple words carrying the weight of his unspoken feelings.

He sighed, glancing upward to the sky, where the faintest stars were beginning to dot the deepening blue. He had spent hours staring at them the night before, hoping for some kind of clarity. And then it hit him: the brightest, prettiest star wasn’t in the sky.

It had always been her.

Luna.

Crowe adjusted the collar of his shirt, brushing back a few loose strands of his dark hair. He wasn’t one for nerves, but this—this was different. For all his confidence, his charisma, he now felt like a lost boy, desperately hoping the roses would somehow speak the words his heart couldn’t seem to say.

He took a step forward, his polished shoes crunching softly against the gravel pathway outside the campus. He knew where she’d be—she always went there when the day felt too heavy, sitting quietly in her little corner to watch the sun sink beneath the horizon.

And there she was, just as he’d imagined.

Luna sat in her usual spot, her silhouette bathed in the golden glow of the fading sunlight. Her chin rested on her knees, and though her expression was soft, there was something undeniably sad about her. Crowe’s chest tightened at the sight, but it only strengthened his resolve.

He couldn’t keep pretending. Not anymore.

Drawing a steadying breath, he stepped onto the path that led to her. With each stride, his heartbeat thundered louder in his ears, drowning out everything but the thought of her—her shy smile, her quiet laugh, the way her eyes lit up when she spoke about the things she loved.

The distance closed between them, Crowe’s grip on the roses tightened. The note crinkled slightly under his fingers, but he didn’t care.

This time, he wouldn’t hold back.

This time, he would tell her.

Crowe walked toward her.

Crowe crept quietly behind Luna, his steps soft against the gravel path. His heart raced, not from the fear of startling her, but from the weight of the moment he had planned. As he reached her, he hesitated for just a second, his free hand clutching the hidden roses and the note tightly behind his back.

With a mischievous grin, he leaned in closer. “Boo,” he whispered softly near her ear.

Luna yelped, her body jerking slightly in surprise before she turned to see him. Her startled expression quickly melted into a sweet, familiar smile, one that tugged at something deep inside Crowe’s chest.

“Crowe,” she said warmly, her voice soft as her hand instinctively went to her chest, calming her racing heart.

Crowe chuckled, his grin widening. “Caught you off guard, huh?”

She playfully rolled her eyes but said nothing more, her gaze flickering back to the horizon where the last rays of sunlight were spilling over the earth. Crowe, still holding the bouquet and note behind him, moved to sit beside her.

For a moment, neither of them spoke. The world seemed to shrink around them, the golden glow of the sunset cocooning them in a peaceful silence. Crowe finally broke it, his voice quieter than usual.

“It’s pretty, isn’t it?” he asked, his eyes fixed on the horizon, though he glanced at her from the corner of his eye.

Luna nodded, her lips curling into a soft smile as she stared at the brilliant hues painting the sky. She didn’t need words to answer. Moments like these, surrounded by beauty and quiet, always felt sacred to her.

But this wasn’t just a moment for the sunset—it was Crowe. She didn’t have to put on a mask or pretend with him. Around Crowe, she could simply be. Still, the sunset held her tongue, its beauty too overwhelming for speech.

Crowe’s gaze lingered on her, watching as the light danced across her delicate features. His fingers tightened slightly around the roses behind his back as he spoke again, his tone softer this time.

“The sunset…” he began, his voice trailing off for a moment as he chose his words. “It’s kind of like you.”

Luna blinked, tearing her gaze from the horizon to glance at him, her cheeks flushing slightly. “What?” she asked, tilting her head in confusion.

Crowe smiled at her, the corners of his mouth tugging upward in a way that made her heart skip. “It’s breathtaking,” he said simply.

Her blush deepened, and she quickly turned her face back toward the sunset to hide it. The compliment felt like too much, too overwhelming, and she couldn’t bring herself to accept it. Her lips curved into a faint, almost sheepish smile. “No,” she said softly, shaking her head. “The sunset’s way prettier than me.”

Crowe’s brows furrowed, but he didn’t press. Instead, he shifted his focus back to the horizon, silently marveling at the girl sitting beside him who couldn’t see the radiance he saw so clearly. The roses and the note remained hidden for now.

Crowe’s expression softened, his voice gentle as he spoke. “I mean it, Luna,” he said firmly. “Don’t say that about yourself.”

Luna blinked, caught off guard by the seriousness in his tone. “What do you mean?” she asked hesitantly, her voice barely above a whisper.

Without a second thought, Crowe reached out and caught her hand in his, his touch warm and steady. Her eyes widened as she looked down at their joined hands, feeling the strength and sincerity in his grip.

“If you ever feel like doubting yourself again,” he said, his tone unwavering, “it’s okay. I don’t care if you believe me right now or not, but I’ll keep saying it anyway. Because I’ll always tell you the truth, Luna. Always.”

Before she could respond, Crowe brought the bouquet out from behind his back and held it out to her, the vibrant roses glowing faintly in the last light of the sunset. Nestled among the petals was the folded note.

Luna’s lips parted in surprise, her gaze shifting from the bouquet to him. “Crowe… what is this?” she asked, her voice tinged with both curiosity and disbelief.

Crowe’s smile was faint but genuine, his dark eyes holding hers with an intensity that made her heart skip. “It’s what I’ve wanted to tell you for a long time,” he said quietly. “I’m done hiding it.”

The realization hit her all at once, like a tidal wave. Her eyes flicked back to the bouquet, her mind racing as she pieced everything together. He was confessing. Crowe was confessing.

Her cheeks burned bright red, and she instinctively brought both hands up to cover her face, hoping to hide the blush spreading across her skin. Crowe chuckled softly, his voice rich with affection as he reached out and gently moved her hands away. His fingertips brushed against her cheeks, holding her face lightly, as if she might disappear.

“You don’t need to feel insecure around me, Luna,” he said, his voice filled with warmth and sincerity. “You don’t need to hide anything.”

His words left her breathless, but what truly undid her was the way he was looking at her—as if she was the most precious thing in the world. Her striking blue eyes shimmered with unshed tears, and her cheeks glowed a soft pink. In that moment, she looked so vulnerable, so pure, that Crowe found himself unable to look away.

“Crowe…” she whispered, her voice trembling as her emotions welled up inside her.

He smiled gently, brushing a tear from the corner of her eye with his thumb. “I mean it, Luna,” he said softly. “You’re beautiful. Inside and out. And I’ll spend as long as it takes to show you that, if you’ll let me.”

Luna held the bouquet close to her chest, the soft fragrance of roses filling the air around her. Her cheeks were still flushed, and her lips curved into an uncontrollable smile as her heart raced with the realization of what had just happened. Crowe—her best friend, the one she had quietly admired for so long—had confessed to her.

She could hardly believe it. Someone like Crowe—kind, charming, and effortlessly cool—had feelings for her. The thought alone made her almost squeal, but she held it back, instead squeezing the bouquet in her arms like it was the most precious thing in the world.

Crowe’s phone buzzed, pulling him out of the moment. He frowned slightly as he checked the screen and let out a small sigh. “Duty calls,” he muttered, his tone tinged with reluctance.

He stood, brushing off his pants, and glanced down at her, his gaze softening when he saw how she clung to the flowers. “I hate to cut this short, Luna, but I’ve gotta go,” he said, slipping his phone back into his pocket.

Luna looked up at him, her smile still lingering. “It’s okay,” she said quietly, her voice tinged with a mix of shyness and contentment.

Crowe hesitated for a moment, then leaned down slightly, his expression earnest. “Tomorrow,” he said, his voice steady. “Let’s talk more about… this. About us.”

Her heart skipped a beat at his words, and she nodded, smiling softly. “Okay,” she whispered.

He returned the smile before stepping away, raising a hand in a casual wave. “Goodnight, Luna.”

“Goodnight, Crowe,” she called after him, watching as he disappeared down the path.

Once he was out of sight, she let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. Hugging the bouquet even tighter, she allowed herself a small, delighted squeal, her cheeks burning as she thought about his confession.

Crowe… he really likes me, she thought, her mind racing as she imagined what the future might hold. The idea of them together felt almost too good to be true, yet she couldn’t stop the smile spreading across her face.

But as she sat there, lost in her thoughts, a strange sensation began to creep over her. Her smile faltered, and she instinctively glanced around, her grip tightening on the bouquet.

The feeling was subtle at first, like the faint prickling of goosebumps on her skin. It was as if someone was watching her—someone just out of sight. The once-comforting quiet of the evening suddenly felt heavy, and the shadows around her seemed darker than before.

She swallowed hard, her heart pounding for an entirely different reason now. Slowly, she stood, clutching the flowers protectively as she cast another wary glance around the empty campus grounds.

The sunset’s glow had faded into twilight, and the world around her was eerily still. The sensation didn’t fade, though. If anything, it grew stronger, the weight of unseen eyes pressing down on her with every passing moment.

“Hello?” she called out softly, her voice trembling as it broke the silence.

Luna’s gaze fell back to the roses in her arms, their deep crimson petals glistening faintly in the dim light. They were so beautiful—so alive in their vibrancy. Yet, as she stared at them, an unease began to crawl up her spine.

The red… it was striking, mesmerizing. Almost too much like… blood.

She leaned closer, the world around her fading into an oppressive stillness. The edges of her vision blurred as she focused on the roses, their once-delicate beauty now tinged with something ominous.

Then, the scene shifted.

The roses were gone, replaced by something far heavier in her arms. Her breath hitched, and a guttural sob escaped her lips as she looked down. Crowe’s almost-severed head rested in her hands, his lifeless eyes staring up at her. The dirt smeared on his face mixed with the vivid streaks of blood running from his neck, pooling onto the ground beneath her.

“No,” she whispered, shaking her head in denial, her voice breaking. “This… this isn’t real. You’re not—”

Her hands trembled as she clutched his head tighter, her nails digging into her palms. The dirt beneath her knees felt cold and damp, grounding her in a horrifying reality she couldn’t escape.

“Crowe…” she whimpered, her tears falling freely now, splattering against his lifeless face. She pulled him closer, her sobs wracking her body as she cradled him like something fragile, something that could still be saved.

“This isn’t real,” she repeated desperately, her voice raw with grief. “You’re not dead. You’re not—”

Her words choked off as she noticed the blood staining her hands, the same shade of red as the roses he had given her yesterday. The memory of his gentle smile, his heartfelt confession, flashed through her mind, and she let out a cry of anguish.

“Who did this to you?!” she screamed, her voice echoing into the emptiness around her.

The once-comforting warmth of his presence was gone, replaced by the cold, cruel weight of his severed head in her arms. The world around her blurred and twisted, the line between reality and nightmare dissolving as her sobs filled the air.

She buried her face into his bloodied hair, holding him as tightly as she could, as if sheer force of will could bring him back. The scent of roses lingered faintly, mingling with the metallic tang of blood, a cruel reminder of what she had lost.

Luna cried harder, the sound of her heartbreak shattering the suffocating silence.

Luna screamed, her voice piercing the cold, unfeeling night. It was raw and broken, filled with anguish so deep it seemed to tear through her soul. She shook her head violently, as if denying the reality in front of her could somehow change it.

“This couldn’t have happened! This can’t be real!” she sobbed, clutching Crowe’s lifeless head to her chest.

Her tears poured freely now, blurring her vision as she rocked back and forth on the dirt. The blood smeared across her hands and clothes, its sticky warmth chilling her to the core.

“No… no, no, no…” she choked, her voice trembling with desperation. “Crowe, please, wake up! You’re okay! You’re not gone!”

But the lifeless weight in her arms offered no response. The vivid memory of his kind smile, his steady hands holding hers, and his soft words from just yesterday flashed through her mind like a cruel trick.

“Who did this to you?!” she screamed again, her voice hoarse and cracking under the strain. Her chest heaved with the force of her sobs, each breath feeling like a knife in her lungs.

Her fingers tightened around him as though holding him closer could keep him from slipping away completely. “You promised me… we were supposed to talk tomorrow. You said we’d talk! You lied!”

Her cries echoed into the night, carrying her heartbreak to the empty sky above. The stars, once so bright and beautiful, now felt mocking in their distant serenity.

She buried her face against his blood-matted hair, her tears soaking into his skin. “You can’t leave me,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “Not you, Crowe… not you.”

She heard a sound....

A pair of fiery red orbs grew wide like saucers as their owner beholds your slumped, blood-stained figure. His gaze reveals a mix of surprise, dread, and panic

"Luna..?"

"N-no... You shouldn't be here... You need to leave!"

His pleas fell on deaf ears. Instead, you stare at the bloody hand axe that he dropped, his equally bloody hands, and his dark shirt wet with red liquid.

He reeked of blood.

He killed Crowe.

The beginning of a nice friendship he said..?

It was only moments before disaster...

I'M SO SORRY FOR THIS. IT'S SO SHORT AND UGLY I DIDNT DO UR OC JUSTICE BUT PLS I WANTED TO WRITE SOMETHING.

Luna's moments before disaster... (⁠个⁠_⁠个⁠)

sol when I catch u sol 👿

[ohmy-gojo]

geto suguru falling for an underclassman reader ෆ (no curse au) pt.1

it was a new year— geto was already on his 2nd year at jujutsu high with the same two friends, not that he really cared about making friends. satoru just appeared one day and called him his 'best friend' and shoko tagged along. it was actually a quite comical group he thinks; a rich kid, a chain smoker and a boy who just wanted to die. but he supposes they were also popular around the campus (though he doesnt understand why)

he was casually strolling near the pond in front of the campus during break (actually hiding from gojo bc a new episode of digimon aired and he really doesnt want to hear his rants) when he saw a trail of... chips? leading near the back of the campus

his first thought was 'this is too weird imma dip' but alas curiosity got him and he decided to follow the trail of.. chips. who knows if thats how they lure people and kidnap them nowadays? if so hes sure people like satoru would surely fall for the trap (he thinks as he himself follows the said trap)

after reaching the end of the trail, he was surprised to face a young girl instead of an old beefy hitman. this was his supposed kidnapper? she was pretty cute so he wouldnt really mind he guesses. but the girl actually looked equally surprised to see him. the two stared at each other and owlishly blinked.

"um.. what are you doing.. here? if i may ask." geto broke the silence

"oh uh i am waiting?" she spoke softly and didnt elaborate further

'maybe for a friend?' geto thought and didnt ask for more details. though the reason he was even here— "do you know who placed these chips in the grou–"

before he could even finish his sentence, the girl pulled him and hid behind the concrete plankets. okay, this girl was nuts

"i was the one who placed the chips," she whisper-answered. "for him" she gestured to their front. geto followed her gaze and saw a.. puppy? he raised his brows at that, if she wanted to feed the puppy why not just give it that directly instead of doing whatever the hell that was.

she probably understood what he was thinking and finally told him, "that little guy was actually trapped in one of the slabs. i tried helping him but he was probably afraid so i decided to lure him with these chips and into safety."

oh, he thinks. that makes sense. they both then sat in silence watching the puppy eat the chips. it was a comfortable silence though. this is not a bad day, he muses. the nice weather, watching an adorable puppy eating chips with a cute girl sitting beside him.

after some time, the puppy left and he realized they were still holding hands from earlier when she pulled him. she let go of his hand after realizing herself and blushed lightly (he was a little disappointed).

"what you did was kind." he smiled at her.

"oh its nothing. i felt bad for him and i dont even like chips that much."

geto laughed at her reasoning. he was getting enamored by her weird charm and awkward mannerisms. they were starting to walk back inside their campus. "well.. whats your name?"

"i am (name)," she bowed her head lightly "please take care of me."

"of course, nice to meet you. i am geto." he smiled. "are you a 1st year?"

"yes i am. are you one as well?"

"no," he shaked his head. "i am a 2nd year."

"oh!" she suddenly stopped. "youre a senpai!"

he laughed at her matter of fact tone and nodded his head. this girl was actually weird but in a.. cute way.

before he could ask more about her, his white haired friend appeared and he just sighed heavily

"suguru??? what are you doing?" he looked at (name) and gasped "do you have a secret girlfriend? oh my god! shoko!"

"lord help me," he sighed again. he looked at the girl with him and saw her blushing and looking bewildered. as much as he found her blushing face adorable he decided to help her

"this is not my girlfriend you doofus," he slapped gojos back of head. "shes an underclassman, be nice to her."

"ohhhh?? shes a kouhai?" he gasped once again. "i always wanted one!"

geto deadpanned at that. look at this weirdo talking about the girl like shes some shiny rock. he was starting too feel weirdly possessive over her. after all he was the one who found her first so she should be his kouhai only, it's only natural.

with gojo blabbering about himself to her and her politely nodding at his words, they made their way to their classes. geto wanted to ask her about herself but found himself being cut off by gojo everytime. he was starting to get pissed but then saw (name) smiling reassuringly at her which made him calm down a little (he was almost pouting). then she had to leave for her class and waved at them bye. 'oh well,' he thought while waving back. he could try to meet her after school maybe? but this time without that blue eyed freak he huffed.

[qrrieterisunnq]

Hiii! I hope you’re doing well! I’d love to request a one-shot with Jack Hughes x female reader (enemies-to-lovers).The setting is a Halloween night, and Jack and the reader are part of the same friend group, though they’ve never really gotten along. The whole group decides to explore an abandoned, supposedly haunted house. As they explore, Jack and the reader start bickering like usual. Things escalate when they encounter what seems to be a ghost or something chasing the group, and everyone scatters to hide.

The reader ends up hiding in a small space (like a cabin or closet) where Jack is already hiding. They have a brief, tense argument, but then Jack notices that the “ghost” is nearby, so he covers her mouth to silence her or kisses her to keep her quiet (since they secretly have feelings for each other). In the end, it’s revealed that the whole haunted house experience was a set-up by their friends to finally get them to admit their feelings for each other.

Thank you so much if you consider writing this!💕

First of all, thank you so much for requesting and second sorry it took so long for me to write this!!🫣🩷

Halloween Jumpscare - Jack Hughes

— WARNINGS: bickering, kissing, maybe some grammar errors (sorry for that) — SUMMARY: Where their friends make a small trap on them, to make them realize that they have feelings for each other. — WORD COUNT: 1,7K — AUTHOR'S NOTE: I am not sure if it's good. I don't know how to write arguments or scary scenes so sorry for that!

masterlist | wip's

"Can you shut up for fuck’s sake?" Jack said, annoyance written all over his face. His eyes were glued to your figure as you carefully tried to climb over the concrete block on the floor of the abandoned house where you were with six other friends from your group. 

"And why should I, hm?" you snapped at him, and your leg slipped on the concrete block. 

"Because you are annoying," he snapped back as his hand grasped yours, catching you before you could fall straight on your face. "Watch where you are stepping." 

"Oh, come on, you two!" Rico sighed in annoyance at the two of you, who bickered on every trip you planned. "Can you for once shut up and both act like normal people, please?" He didn’t understand what was wrong with you. It hadn’t always been like this. A few years ago, you were best friends who wouldn’t do anything without the other. But then something happened, and you couldn’t stand each other anymore. 

"Sorry," you whispered, snatching your hand from his hold. "And you, don’t ever touch me again." You spat in his face before approaching Jasmine and Destiny, who were already waiting for you with soft smiles. 

"Come here, babes," Jasmine said while looking behind you at Jack, who was watching your back with unknown emotions in his eyes. "He is acting like a dick." 

"You know, it really sucked that Kai couldn’t come." You sighed and looked around the room. You shivered when you felt a breeze on your hands, and your head whipped in the direction from where the breeze came. 

"Yeah, it sucked. I thought I’d laugh at him," Rico sighed in fake disappointment, making you all chuckle. "Okay, I think we should continue." Jasmine and Destiny saluted, and you all walked deeper inside the house with Rico leading the way. 

Carefully, you stepped over the box on the ground, not wanting to touch it. 

You heard a quiet scoff from behind you, knowing exactly who it was. Jack. 

"Problem?" you asked, turning your head over your shoulder with an annoyed look. He shook his head like he had done nothing and walked ahead of you. You silently mocked the way he talked and rolled your eyes at him. 

"Asshole." 

"I heard that," he called out, chuckling slightly. 

"Good." 

"What was that?" Jasmine shrieked when she heard footsteps in the hall right next to them. 

"You heard that too?" you asked, looking around yourself. 

"Calm down, it’s an old house. It will make sounds," Jack sighed, shaking his head, but he couldn’t deny the weird feeling that grew in his stomach as he looked around himself. He’d be lying if he said that he didn’t hear anything. So, when you screamed again, he whipped his head in your direction to make sure you were okay.

He'd never admit it, but he really does care about you even after what happened between you two.

“Fuck, why the hell did I agree to this?” you murmured under your breath, clutching onto Jasmine’s hand.

Even though you think like this, you’d never change this for anything. The time you spend with your friends is something you’d never change.

“Because you love us,” Rico grinned at you, but his smile disappeared when he spotted something in the corner of the room.

He turned around to his friends who were quietly standing next to each other as they started pulling out the ghost-hunting things from the shared bag Jack had on his back. “Guys, did you see that?” he asked them while he had his finger pointed in the direction of the something he saw.

“What?” Destiny panicked, her eyes examining the room that was dimly lit by only a hand torch. “Where? Don’t joke about this!” She pointed a finger at Rico with an angry and terrified look.

“I-It was right there.” He said seriously and slowly backed towards them when the same thing appeared in the corner again, this time seen by everyone.

“Fuck! Run!” Jasmine yelled and took off somewhere deeper in the building to hide. You watched as everyone left the room and something slowly made its way to you. Just as it was a few feet away from her, she got out of the trans and ran away as fast as she could. She had no idea where she was running until she reached a small closet, she didn’t even care if the thing was following her she opened the door and hid inside, taking in deep breaths not noticing that your back was pressed against someone’s chest.

“Get out!” Jack whisper-shouted when he felt your back.

“I can’t!” you gritted between your teeth, scooting Jack even deeper when you hear something.

“You can, I was here first.” Even though he tried to act like he didn’t want you here, he grabbed your hips and pulled you closer when he heard the same noises.

“Don’t touch me.” You swatted his hands away and stepped on the side, accidentally dropping something on the ground. “Shit.”

“Jesus, can you just stay still.” He said just in the moment when the noises got louder.

“Yeah right, sorry,” you mumbled and reached into your jacket pocket for your phone. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” You mumbled and frantically started searching your pockets.

“What now?” annoyance was clear in his voice as he shot you a glance.

“Can’t find my phone! Why do you care asshole,” you snapped at him a little too louder than you wanted and immediately regretted it when you could see the thing slowly reaching you. The thing slowly approached the closet, where the two were hiding.

“Be quiet.” He murmured quietly, his eyes never leaving the thing. He could feel the slight breeze hitting him through the slightly opened door.

“Jack—” you stuttered out, as your whole body was shaky from the fear you were feeling. The thing out was real, you could tell by the look in Jack’s eyes. He never in his life believed in these things, but you could see it in his eyes, that this was reel.

Jack could tell how nervous and scared you were in the moment. He noticed the way your chest raised quickly, the way you picked on your fingers and lastly, he noticed the tears forming in your eyes.

He didn’t waste any minute when he saw that you were about to say something and he crashed his lips on yours in a slow yet firm kiss.

At that moment you didn’t even realize that Jack pressed his lips to yours in a bold attempt to make you shut up. He kissed you with something you couldn’t describe as his hands gripped your cheeks, as he tried to take your attention away from the thing.

You clutched onto his hands, tears still streaming down your face, as you heard some cracking outside.

You were about to say something, but Jack didn’t let you, he took the opportunity of you opening your lips and pushed his tongue inside, shutting you up.

You let out a quiet moan when he slightly pulled away sucking on your lower lip. He rested his forehead on yours, your breaths mixing as you tried to catch your breath.

“Is it gone?” you whisper finally opening your eyes.

“I don’t know, but I don’t hear anything.” He whispered his hands still on our cheeks, caressing them lightly. “Stay there, I’ll go look around—”

“N-no. You ain’t going anywhere.”

“Hey, hey, it’s okay! I’ll be okay.” He says with a smile. “It’s nothing. If it wanted to hurt us, it already would.”

You look at him with tears in your eyes, you could never admit it but this shit looked so real. And it scared you even more when you saw that even Jack must have thought it was real. You shake your head, tightening your hold on his hands.

“Okay, okay, calm down. We’ll go together, okay? We’ll find a way out and then call the others to find out where they are. Hm?” his eyes never left hers as he talked to her trying to calm her down.

“Okay. B-but I need to get my phone.” You stuttered, as your hands trembled from the fear and adrenalin in your veins.

The next few things happened quickly, you two ran out of the closet not looking behind you, you entered the room where you were when the thing sowed, you quickly found your phone and then you ran out of the building, with Jack’s hand holding yours the whole time. As soon as you were out, you could see the thing running towards you, but you noticed that it didn’t look like something supernatural, more like a human.

And Jack must have noticed it too. “Okay, guys! Stop it!” he shouted with an annoyed look, his hand still holding yours. The person stopped in their tracks immediately. “Really funny, Kai.”

The person pulled down the costume and looked at Jack with a confused look. “How, bro?”

“Your shoes,” he pointed down and you immediately recognized them too. You sighed in relief and rested your head on Jack’s arm with a chuckle.

“Asshole, I told you to wear something else,” Rico shouted at him as he and the girls stepped out of the bushes. “But I think it worked out.” He shrugged looking at you two.

“What worked out?” confusion was written all over your face as you watched your friend who had a wide smile on their faces.

“This,” Jasmine pointed to your hands, which were still interlocked. Both of you look down and then at each other with disbelief. “We wanted you to finally realize that the thing that happened between you two should stay in the past and you two should finally express your feelings.”

“So did it work?” Kai asked with a smirk. He folded the costume in his bag slowly approaching them, just like the others.

Jack smirked down at you, causing your cheeks to turn red. Then he looked at the others with the same smirk and nodded his head.

“We kissed.” you whispered. The girls screamed in excitement and pulled you in a tight hug, meanwhile, Rico and Kai patted Jack’s back congratulating him.

You and Jack looked at each other with strong emotions in your eyes and you knew, that what happened in past stayed in past.

[wheels-of-despair]

I'm Gonna Love You Forever Pairing: Eddie Munson x You Summary: Eddie gets some upsetting news and has to hide out at Evil Woman's house for a little while… it's an angsty one, kids. Contains: Fear and nightmares, bed-wetting and blood, childhood trauma and abuse, comfort and reassurance, a declaration of love. Words: 3.7k

A thwap comes from your right.

You glance over and chuckle. Eddie is lying next to you on your bed, on his stomach, and his face is planted in the middle of the history textbook he's supposed to be reading.

"Are you absorbing the necessary information better that way?" you ask, turning your attention back to a battered classroom-issued paperback.

"No," he grunts. "Need a break."

"I understand. You've been reading for a whole," you check your watch, "three minutes."

He groans.

"Finish this chapter and we'll take a break."

He groans louder, head still in his book. And then the phone rings. His head pops up. "It's Wayne, he says I gotta come home right now, can't study any more."

"Shut up," you laugh, smacking his denim-clad ass with your book as you get up and go to answer the phone.

Your brother already has it. You stand in the hallway with your arms crossed, waiting for either a hand-off or a dismissal. He covers the mouthpiece with his hand.

"Eddie's uncle wants to talk to him," he says lowly. You nod, hold up a finger, and return to your room.

"You're in luck, Munson; it really is Wayne."

Instead of looking relieved, Eddie looks concerned. It's understandable; Wayne never calls here. Eddie scrambles out of bed and skids into the hallway on his socked feet.

You sit on the bed and open your book, but don't absorb a single word... because you can hear Eddie's side of the conversation.

"What? Why? No. No. I can't. I'll stay at Rick's or something. I'll let you know. Bye."

It's tense. It's rushed. Something is definitely wrong. You toss your book aside when he hurries back into your bedroom. He closes your door and leans against it, face even paler than usual.

"You okay?" you ask, knowing the answer.

His lip begins to tremble. His eyes start to well. You're off the bed and wrapping your arms are around him in an instant. He squeezes you and buries his face in your neck.

"What happened? Is Wayne okay?"

Eddie sounds like he's starting to hyperventilate, so you guide him toward the bed. You get him to sit, then kneel on the floor in front of him and hold his hands in yours. He's hunched over; his eyes are scrunched tight, his face looking a little green.

"Breathe, baby. It's gonna be okay. Just breathe."

He squeezes your hands until you begin losing feeling in your fingers, but you don't let go. You couldn't, even if you wanted to. Eventually, his breathing slows and he releases his death grip on your hands.

"My dad's out."

You've been dating Eddie Munson for more than six months, and he's barely mentioned his father. You never asked about his parents; you figured if he wanted you to know, he'd tell you. And he did, occasionally. You'd gathered that neither of them were the nurturing type. You knew they were alcoholics. You knew Eddie's mother died when he was 7, and that he came to live with Wayne when he was 8. Everything else was something of a mystery that you figured he'd reveal in time, when he was ready.

Eddie takes a shuddering breath and begins: "He was supposed to be doing 15 years. It's only been 12. He showed up at the trailer a little while ago. Wayne says he wants to see me." Tears fall when he shakes his head. "I can't."

"Baby, you don't have to," you tell him softly. He closes his eyes. "Eddie, you don't have to see him if you don't want to. You're a grown-up. He can't make you do anything." He covers his face with his hands, and you move upward to wrap your arms around him again.

"I don't want to go home," he whimpers.

"So stay with me."

"Yeah, I bet your mom would love that," he says sarcastically, pulling back and swiping at his eyes.

"She literally went to court to fight my dad when we said we didn't want to see him anymore. She'll understand."

"I don't know how long it'll be 'til he fucks off."

"That's okay."

"What if she says no?"

"She won't," you say confidently.

You don't know what his father did to him, or why he was locked up, or why Eddie is so scared, but you know one thing: if that old man comes near the boy you love, it'll be the last thing he ever does.

You move your books to the floor and lie down on the bed together. Eddie buries his face in your chest and lets you hold him tight. You lie there in silence, gently playing with his hair, until you hear your mom come home from work.

"Be right back," you whisper with a kiss to the top of his head.

When you return to your room, Eddie is curled into a ball on his side, hugging your pillow. He looks up at you with fearful, red-rimmed eyes. You ease back onto the bed, lying down to face him, and reach out to tuck his shaggy hair behind his ear.

"Mom talked to Wayne," you tell him quietly. "He thinks staying here for a few days is a good idea, too. Said he'd bring you some stuff on his way to work. Is that okay? Will you stay?"

"Do you really want me?" he asks, his voice barely a whisper.

"Of course I do," you smile. You gaze into his big brown eyes and feel your heart swell. "I'd keep you with me all the time if I could." You kiss his the tip of his nose. "Oh, and Mom says she's making lasagna for dinner, in honor of getting our very own Garfield."

He snorts.

Eddie follows you into the kitchen when it's time for dinner like he usually does. He stays to eat with you several times a week anyway, so nothing feels at all out of the ordinary.

Until he nearly jumps out of his skin when someone knocks at the door. You place a hand on his leg under the table when your mom goes to answer it.

You both let out a quiet sigh of relief when you see Wayne step inside. He follows your mom into the kitchen, carrying a brown grocery bag and Eddie's Sweetheart.

"Can you spare a few minutes for dinner, Wayne?" your mom asks.

"No, ma'am, just came to drop off some stuff for the boy on my way to work."

Eddie gets up to take his things from his uncle.

"Talk to you outside for a minute?" Wayne asks.

"Yeah." Eddie sets his bag and other lover aside and follows Wayne outside. You stare at the door nervously while your mom packs a meal in Tupperware for Wayne to take with him.

When they return, Eddie looks shy, like a kid who's been coached on how to thank relatives for a gift he didn't really want. He takes his seat, and Wayne hovers in the doorway.

"Thank you again for takin' him in, ma'am. He gives you any trouble, you give me a call."

You smirk. Eddie blushes furiously and refuses to look in your direction.

Your mom laughs warmly. "Please. Eddie's never any trouble. We're always happy to have him." She hands the Tupperware container to Wayne. "Take this."

"Ma'am, I--"

"Take it." You're pleased to see that the Don't Argue With Me Voice works on grown-ups too.

"Thank you, ma'am."

Now Eddie's the one smirking, and Wayne's the one blushing.

"Alright," Wayne rubs the back of his neck awkwardly, "I gotta get goin'. Thank you again, ma'am. Call if you need anything. And you?" Eddie looks up to see his uncle pointing at him. "Be good."

Eddie nods, and Wayne leaves with his Tupperware meal.

The rest of dinner passes uneventfully, and afterwards, you and Eddie pick up the Wayne-delivered goods and return to your room to pretend to finish your homework.

"Where can I…?" Eddie spins around in the middle of your room, looking for a safe place to stash Sweetheart.

"Anywhere you want," you smile, placing his bag of clothes in your desk chair and dropping onto the bed. "Mi casa es… Sweetheart's casa?"

He settles her in a corner, then comes to join you on the edge of the bed. He lets out a sigh that it seems like he's been holding for hours. You wrap an arm around his back and rest your chin on his shoulder.

"You okay?"

"Yeah." He leans against you. "Wayne thinks he'll fuck off in a few days. Most of his old buddies are either dead or locked up. He's staying at the shitty motel by the laundromat. Wayne says he'll probably go back to my grandma's when he runs out of money."

"You have a grandma?" you ask.

Eddie waits a beat.

"That's what you got out of that?"

"You've never mentioned her."

He shrugs, making your head bob with his shoulder. "Didn't like my mom. Didn't like me. Don't know much about her."

"What's Wayne think about him being back?"

"Same thing I do. Wish he'd get hit by a fuckin' truck."

You're rubbing your hand up and down his back when a voice calls from the hall.

"I'm watching Dawn of the Dead, if you losers wanna quit sucking face long enough to enjoy some real entertainment."

You lift your head from Eddie's shoulder. "Wanna?"

"Does it mean I don't have to finish my history homework?" he asks hopefully.

"I was gonna skim the chapter and summarize for you anyway."

"Fuck yeah," he grins.

You head to the living room, get comfortable on the couch, and lose yourselves in zombieland for the next two hours. Not what you would've picked for a soothing distraction from a horrifying reality, but it seems to work for Eddie.

He seems calmer as you get ready for bed. You stand together at the bathroom sink to brush your teeth, letting the toothpaste dribble out of your mouths and growling like zombies at each other in the mirror.

This is, of course, when your mother walks by to say goodnight: When you've both got toothpaste dripping off your chins.

"I don't even want to know," she shakes her head, trying and failing to conceal her smile. "Everything's locked up, I'm going to bed." She doesn't usually announce that everything's locked up, but you appreciate her trying to pass it off as normal for Eddie's benefit.

"G'night," you both gurgle through your foam-filled mouths. She lightly smacks her own forehead with her palm and walks away laughing. You lean forward to spit and grin at each other in the mirror.

Once the lights are off and you're in bed, Eddie practically crawls on top of you. You hold him tight and stroke his hair, finding that one spot on his scalp that's been known to knock him out. It works. You hope his dreams are much happier than his reality as you begin to drift off to the sound of his steady breathing.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, shit, fuck."

You open your eyes to a strange chant and suddenly remember that Eddie is supposed to be with you. You can't feel him. You roll out of bed and turn on the lamp. He's kneeling on the mattress, hair a mess.

"Turn around," he orders. "Don't look."

"Eddie, what's going on?"

"Turn around!"

You're in such a panic, you can't just turn your back on him. Your eyes drift from his frantic eyes to the wet spot he's trying to shield with his body. When your eyes meet his again, he crumbles.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so fucking sorry," he cries.

"Babe, it's okay," you begin.

"I'm so fucking sorry, just let me get my shit and I'll go," he continues.

"Eddie, would you stop?"

"I wish I was fucking dead, I'm so fuc--"

"Eddie! Stop!" Your sharp tone scares him enough to make him stop rambling.

You step toward a corner of the bed and pull the sheet back to reveal what's underneath.

"Look. Mattress pad. Easy fix. By morning, we can pretend it never happened."

He looks from the white corner of the fabric to you, and then back again. His mouth opens and closes several times.

You lean against your dresser and speak softly, resisting the urge to close the distance and embarrass him further. "You're aware that I hemorrhage for a significant amount of time every month, right?"

He nods.

"Sometimes I bleed through. My last mattress looked like such a murder scene, Mom was afraid to transport it across state lines. It's not a big deal. I go through this all the time."

He sniffs.

"Why don't you go hop in the shower? Just put your clothes in the hamper, and I'll throw a load of laundry in."

He starts to protest.

"Nobody'll suspect a thing," you cut him off before he can even begin. "I go through this at least once a month. It's practically expected of me. Nobody'll know."

He looks downward, and you let him consider his options.

"Can you turn around?" he asks quietly.

"Yep."

You turn your back and hear him rustling through his paper bag, and then hear the door open and close. You strip the sheets - only the bottom sheet had any traces of his shame - and ball them up.

You weren't lying; this does happen occasionally. Perhaps not as often as you implied, but enough that nobody would raise an eyebrow at the washing machine going at 3 am. You clean the spot on the mattress pad, change the sheets, re-make the bed, and grab clean pajamas. You'll throw your current ones in with the load, to support your 'It Was Me' story, should anyone question it. (They won't, but it would probably make Eddie feel better.)

"Did any get on you?" He'd crept back into your room so quietly, you hadn't even noticed him. He's eyeing the fresh stack of pajamas you've placed on top of the dresser.

"Nope," you smile, turning around. "Figured we could do with a complete re-set. I'll be right back."

You grab the sheets in one hand and your pajamas in the other, and head to the bathroom to collect Eddie's clothes.

Four minutes later, you return to your room. Eddie is sitting on the floor, leaning against your dresser, his knees to his chest. You sit next to him, but not close enough to touch him. Not yet.

"Please don't beat yourself up over this," you beg. "It's not a big deal."

"Fucking embarrassing."

"Eddie?"

"Yeah?"

"I love you."

He doesn't respond. You stretch your legs out in front of you, cross your ankles, and get comfortable.

"You know I'm gonna marry you one of these days, right?"

Still nothing.

"What do you reckon our life expectancy is? I figure we've got what, maybe 50 years ahead of us? That's a lot of time."

You place your hand on the floor between you, palm up, to see if he'll take it. He doesn't.

"I'm gonna love you forever," you inform him. "Sickness, health, weird haircuts, awful tattoos, all that jazz. I will love you if you suddenly develop a fondness for Madonna or disco dancing. I'll even love you if you become that guy who brings an acoustic guitar to parties and expects everyone to sit around and listen to him. Actually, maybe not with that one. Please don't be that guy." You pause, hoping for a laugh. When it doesn't come, you clear your throat and continue. "Point is, there's almost nothing that could make me stop loving you. This, right here? Doesn't change a thing. I fucking love you. Get used to it."

He lets it sink in, and then he sighs. Finally, he reaches for your hand. Your fingers lace together. You look over at him, and he slowly meets your eye.

"I fucking love you too."

"You better, Munson," you wink.

He smiles a tiny smile.

"Ready to go back to bed?"

He hesitates and asks, "Can I go out and smoke first?"

"Baby, you're a refugee, not a prisoner. You don't have to ask permission to leave."

"Right," he groans, hauling himself off the floor. He holds out his hands to help you up, and you take them.

"Do you want company, or do you need a minute?" you ask once you're standing.

He shrugs, looking at the floor.

"Because that's okay," you smile, reaching up to brush his hair out of his face.

"What's okay?"

"Needing a minute," you explain. "I just announced my intention to lock you down forever. We're probably gonna occasionally need a minute to ourselves."

"You can come with me," he whispers, kissing your forehead.

You follow him to the back door, put on your jackets and shove your feet into your shoes, and step out into the darkness. You sit next to each other on the porch steps, resting your head on his shoulder and huddling together for warmth as Eddie smokes in silence. It's pretty peaceful out tonight. The black sky is cloudless and dotted with stars. The air feels clean and crisp. Eddie's body provides just enough heat that you're not too bothered by the cold.

He seems calmer after he smokes his cigarette down to the butt, but he uses the tip to light another. It's going to be a long night. You press your fingers between your thighs, starting to feel the chill set in.

"You know the Speedway just this side of the county line?"

A run-down gas station with a cracked parking lot and a flickering neon sign comes to mind. Yeah. You know of it, but you've never been in. Gareth had suggested dropping in for snacks once when you passed by, but Eddie had said everything in there was overpriced and kept driving. You hadn't thought anything of it at the time; you and Eddie are 7-Eleven people, after all.

"Yeah," you whisper.

Eddie pauses so long, you wonder if he's reconsidering telling you whatever he was about to reveal.

"We were on a beer run," he says eventually. "Dad was already hammered. Ran over our mailbox and took out the neighbor's trash can on the way out. Swerved all over the road. I used to think it was fun, riding like that, but looking back I'm surprised nobody died." Eddie stops to take a long drag. "I stuck a pack of Sno-Balls under my shirt while Dad was paying for his beer. You know, those pink coconut cakes?" He glances at you for confirmation, and you nod. "The thought of those things makes me sick now. But when you're that hungry, they look fuckin' amazing. Anyway, the cashier spotted me and said something. Dad's face… I mean, it was already red from the drinking. But it looked like his head was going to explode. Eyes poppin' out of his head, vein throbbing in his neck. He grabbed me by the hair and just started whalin' on me, right there in the middle of the store. I heard people yelling, but I… I kinda just scrunched my eyes shut and waited for it to be over, like I always did. And then when I opened them again, Hop had the old man pinned to the floor."

Eddie sniffles and drags his sleeve across his face.

"I know you've never seen my dad, but he's not a big guy. Hopper could've fucking demolished him. But Hop had a busted lip. Blood just dripping out of his mouth and onto the old man. Sometimes I wonder… if maybe Hop let him get a swing in just 'cause he knew that's what it would take to finally put him away. And it did. He got 15 years for assaulting a cop."

A tear streaks down your cheek, and a smile tugs at your lips.

"Took three guys to haul Dad off. Still kicking and screaming. At me, at Hop, I dunno. But Hopper's the one who took me to Wayne's. Bought me a hot dog to eat on the way, and I think it might've been the best fucking thing I've ever eaten. Even with the sore jaw the old man gave me for getting caught. He always said to never trust a cop, but Hop… he's saved my ass more than once. I guess…" Eddie stubs out cigarette #2 and chuckles. "I guess if you have to leave me for somebody, Hop's a decent choice."

You knock your knee against his, lifting your head off his shoulder to look at him. His eyes are shiny and tear-filled in the moonlight. Is it a crime to think he's beautiful like this?

"What can I say?" you grin. "I've got great taste in men."

Eddie snorts, shakes his head, and stands. He offers you his hands, and you take them and let him help you off the steps. When you stand, he pulls you in for a hug.

"Thanks," he mumbles into your hair. "For tonight. For everything."

You feel like something needs to be said, but you can't find the right words. Instead, you hold him tight and kiss the side of his neck. He melts into you. You stand there, stuck together on your back porch, until a shiver rips through your body.

"Jeez, make us stand outside in the cold all night and get sick, why don't ya," Eddie grumbles, pulling away and putting his hands on your shoulders. He turns you around and pushes you toward the door. "Get inside where it's warm, you crazy woman. You've gotta take care of me for the next 50 years, you don't get to check out early."

You laugh quietly and let him push you inside. You silently shed your jackets and shoes and return to your bedroom, snuggling into your clean sheets and holding onto each other for warmth.

Four days later, Wayne stopped by to tell Eddie that his old man was back in jail where he belonged. Unable to resist the sight of the bar across the street from the shitty motel he was staying in, he'd wandered over, drank too much, and picked a fight with the guy on the stool next to him...

Who happened to be an off-duty Indiana State Trooper, visiting Hawkins to have a drink with an old friend named Jim Hopper.

[descendant-of-truth]

Interesting addendum to this that I wasn't expecting: in the English version of Days, whenever Roxas talks about Sora, he's always clearly framed as a person. "Who is Sora," "I don't even know a Sora," etc.

In Japanese, he initially asks about who Sora is, but then switches to asking what Sora is. And it seems to happen not too long after Xemnas describes Sora as "the connection" between him and Xion.

He proceeds to wonder to himself what Sora is, and who exactly that makes him, before going to ask Axel about it. And during that conversation with Axel, he doesn't say "I don't even know a Sora," he instead just repeats the question of "but what even is Sora?"

Which I think adds an extra nuance to the narrative that gets lost in the official translation. Roxas instinctively thinks of Sora as a person, because why wouldn't he, but none of the answers he gets about him frames him as such. So, perhaps subconsciously, he starts seeing Sora less as a person and more of a mystery, this obstacle to his and Xion's lives that he can't seem to get answers about.

And normally, you'd think Roxas wouldn't fall into this trap, right? He's always been the most adamant about defending Xion's personhood, shouting at people when she's referred to as a puppet or an "it." His whole storyline is about asserting himself in the face of nearly everyone he knows dehumanizing him and trying to take away his autonomy.

Plus, he has Sora's memories! If he remembers things that Sora's done, and things that Sora's felt, how could he not see him as a person?

But I think that's a testament to how insidious the Organization's manipulation is. Roxas and his best friend are discriminated against, they're "othered" in a way that's unfair and it makes him justifiably ticked off. But that's the thing: he knows Xion, he cares about her, and of course he knows himself. He remembers things about Sora, but he doesn't really understand him - we never see him processing the memories he has very well.

So it becomes very easy for Sora to be presented as the "other." He doesn't stand up for Sora's personhood because he hasn't seen it, and frankly, he has bigger things in his home life to care about than whether some random guy he knows random things about is being treated well. Sora, reportedly, is half the reason he has so many problems anyway, and at this point in his life he just wants someone to blame.

It doesn't matter that Sora wasn't personally responsible for anything that happened to Roxas. He doesn't know what Sora did or didn't do when it comes to him and Xion, but everyone's telling him he's responsible, he's the connection, he's the reason everything is happening to him. And so, Roxas's anger is directed at an innocent person, someone who's really not much more privileged than he is, instead of solely at his oppressors.

Honestly, the way Roxas views Sora over time deserves a post all on its own, because it's not even necessarily as straightforward as "and then he saw Sora exactly for who he is once they joined together for a while and he got over his resentment." It's more like, his resentment turned into genuine respect, and then into this weird, resigned hero-worship for a bit, before they seemed to get on equal terms towards the end of KH3.

But my point is, Roxas plays a very interesting role in this pattern of Sora being dehumanized, because he ends up contributing to it for completely different reasons than everyone else, and it's not even on purpose. DiZ and the Organization see Sora as a tool, Namine and especially Riku care more about waking him up than how he'd feel about their methods.

To Roxas, Sora is the reason he lost everything. Sora is "what it was all for," which starts as something he hates, and becomes something that gives him a certain degree of comfort.

Because Sora will be the one to figure it all out, right? He can depend on Sora, just like everybody else, because that's what Sora's here for. He's a good guy, he'll find a way to make things right again.

He ends up being correct, but man. At what cost

Anyone else find it fascinating that whenever we're shown Roxas's feelings through Sora, it's just kind of melancholic and wistful, but the reverse scenario always feels like you just walked into a psychological horror?

Seriously, the way it's presented, it's like we're meant to see Roxas as an old friend that we miss talking to, but Sora - our original "old friend" that we would have reasons to miss - is hardly even shown as a person. The contents of his memories feel less important than the effect they're having on Roxas, which is usually Extreme Distress and/or physical pain.

And it's insane to me because KH1 was so whimsical! The memories that Roxas and Xion are experiencing are literal Disney magic! But the way they're shown, with the fuzzy filters and the glitch effects, sort of removes the emotions you associate with them and makes them come across as eerie and unsettling.

Not to mention, Sora's memories rarely prompt any feelings of happiness, the way Roxas's might make Sora extra fond of the Twilight Town crew... which might say more about how KH1 affected Sora's mental health than anything.

(I personally stand by the idea that the story revisits it so much as an analogy for how repeating events in your head over and over can alter your perception of them)

But like. how wild is it that this series found a way to take its cheerful protagonist, and without changing anything about him, turned him into this constant, unnerving presence that haunts the lives of two other characters?

And I think another reason Roxas doesn't feel like he haunts Sora in the same way is because no one really... treats Sora like a person while he's asleep. He's either a tool or an object of affection, and regardless of which you pick, his feelings are seen as secondary to the goal of waking him up. As a result, the narrative focuses entirely on Roxas and Xion's personhood, and unlike Sora, they never stop being treated like people once they're made inaccessible due to the plot.

It's probably a bit late in the story to bring it up by now, but I still wonder if we'll ever see Sora be upset with Riku for sacrificing people in his name. Sure, it worked out in the end, and I'm not sure if Sora's even aware of what happened (how likely is it that he's properly sifted through all of Roxas's memories at this point?) but there's a list of things he could still conceivably be mad at Riku about that he hasn't processed, and I want this to be one of them

[spriteofmushrooms]

Au where wen zhuliu becomes jiang cheng's bodyguard

[on ao3]

The puppies tumbled over Jiang Cheng's lap, each trying to give him kisses. Their bellies were round with milk, and they still didn't know how to play like big dogs could. But that was okay, because Jiang Cheng would teach them.

"Little Love, Jasmine, Precious, be careful! You're going to fall out of my lap!" Jiang Cheng picked up each and gently set them down, but they kept returning. Frustrated, Jiang Cheng snapped, "No! Bad puppies!"

At the loud sound, the dogs flinched and looked around, seeming more confused than ever.

"Is something wrong, Jiang-gongzi?"

Zhao Zhuliu had recently joined the sect. He was tall and looked older than most adults Jiang Cheng knew other than the aunties and uncles who sold food by the docks. He always wore gloves and didn't smile. Because Jiang Cheng was a stupid baby, his mother had decided that Zhao Zhuliu would be his bodyguard. Jiang Cheng hated it. Only useless boys like Jin Zhen needed bodyguards.

But he did need help.

"We have to go see a-jie, but I can't carry them all," Jiang Cheng said.

Expressionless, Zhao Zhuliu replied, "I will carry two."

Jiang Cheng wasn't sure if bodyguards knew anything about dogs, so he picked up Little Love and showed Zhao Zhuliu how Jiang Yanli had shown him how to carry puppies. "They're really small and get scared easily," he said sternly, "so you can't move too quickly. You have to support their whole body, but don't hold them like a cat, because they might jump down and hurt themselves. And you have to be nice to them."

"I will," Zhao Zhuliu said.

Little Love and Jasmine were more adventurous than Precious, so Jiang Cheng handed them one at a time to Zhao Zhuliu. It was funny to see the wiggly puppies in his black gloved hands, but they seemed comfortable there. Jasmine even started licking Zhao Zhuliu's wrist.

Holding Precious like a baby, Jiang Cheng led the way to Jiang Yanli's courtyard where she learned girl things like illusion dances. Along the way, Jiang Cheng explained that these puppies were very smart, because they were farm dogs who protected sheep from tigers and yao. "The farmer said they think they're part of the flock, and sometimes when a sheep is taken they track it down, and they come back covered in blood because they're good dogs, and the sheep cuddle with them because they love them. We don't have any sheep, though."

After a moment of silence, Zhao Zhuliu asked, "Earlier, when you yelled, were you worried?"

Jiang Cheng could feel his shoulders curving in. "Yes, Zhao-shishu."

"Dogs can't understand Chinese, so they don't know why you yelled. You have to think like a dog. Puppies are still babies, and they understand even less than adult dogs. You're much older than they are, so it's your responsibility to show them how to act. How else could you have showed them what you wanted?"

Jiang Cheng slowed down. That was the most he had ever heard Zhao Zhuliu say. For the rest of the walk, he offered examples of how he could better train the puppies while Precious tried to eat his hair.

———

Father picked up Wei Ying even though he never picked up Jiang Cheng except three times. Wei Ying was crying over nothing and Jiang Cheng couldn't have his puppies anymore and Father was walking away. Two disciples Jiang Cheng couldn't recognize through his tears had already picked up his puppies and they weren't doing it right because nobody cared about his puppies at all.

Zhao Zhuliu knelt before Jiang Cheng. "Xiao-gongzi, do you trust me?"

Looking up through his tears, Jiang Cheng studied Zhao Zhuliu's face. He still looked old, but his expressions weren't as scary now that he didn't look blank all the time. Jiang Cheng didn't think Zhao Zhuliu hated him even though Jiang Cheng had thrown a tantrum when he was assigned a bodyguard, and he knew that Zhao Zhuliu knew about dogs, and even liked his puppies.

"Y-yeah," Jiang Cheng sobbed.

"I will find a flock for Precious, Jasmine, and Little Love to protect. They're going to have a lot of sheep friends, Xiao-gongzi."

"Can I visit them?"

"Zongzhu and Yu-furen will determine that," Zhao Zhuliu said.

Jiang Cheng knew what that meant. He cried harder.

"Xiao-gongzi," Zhao Zhuliu said, then started again. "Jiang Cheng, I will return as soon as I find them a home. I swear it."

Jiang Cheng wanted to say they already had a home, or that he would run away with them, but both would be petulant and stupid. He nodded. When Zhao Zhuliu gestured sharply at the two disciples, they brought the puppies to Jiang Cheng so he could say goodbye. "Be good, be good," he whispered, kissing the soft fur on their heads.

[dilf-docs]

To The Devil I Know

dbf!joel miller x younger!reader

summary: your infamous girl's trip with your best friend sarah gets crashed by his overprotective dad. but what is the perfect way to leash all your anger out?

warnings: 18+ (minors dni), age gap, smut, p. in v., fingering, oral (m. and f. receiving), brat taming, it's pussy spanking time again bc i do in fact like it a lot, praise/daddy kink sprinkled somewhere, reader calls him mr. miller A LOT, exhibition kink (v nasty), degradation kink (he calls her little slut), pantie sniffing (joel's kind of a perv, ay), dirty talk (they have a sentence awaiting in horny jail), y/n grinds on joel's nose bc yeah i too want that, this is contradicting but lwk sub!joel bc that man's touch starved as HELL, may do a part two idk pls give it love

word count: 7,195 words

side note: this request got me HOOKED the moment i opened it and since i'm currently on a pedro hyperfixiation rn, we need to put the mental illness to good use. also, this is lwk based on the song by suki waterhouse devil i know! :) i'm seeing that i have two joel fics with devil in the title btw something something abt nickels and not being a lot but weird it happened twice also WE HIT 300 FOLLOWERS??? (and its 1am and i have to wake up at 4am is anyone surprised atp...)

"Sarah!" you shout, "get your ass out here you looser!"

It's probably eight in the morning, and here you are, honking and shouting in the middle of the quiet calm suburbs.

When you spot her curly head running towards you in a rush, you know she's pissed.

"Stop screaming!" she shouts back, "my neighbours will hate me"

You've known Sarah since you were kids. When you first moved to Texas, she was the only one who spoke to you in school. You grew up with her among white picket fences and scrapped knees, mantaining the friendship even as you moved away, until your return for college.

"Why would I even care? I don't live here!" you joke from the driver's seat, hopping off and giving her a hug. "I'm sorry but I can't help it. I'm just so excited for this trip, we've been planning it for ages!"

You keep talking excitedly about your plans, not noticing how her face falls.

"Yeah, about that..."

"You girls ready?" a third voice enters the picture, definitely not belonging to a girl.

"Uh, Sarah" you breath in, "Why the fuck is your dad here?"

In all his glory: Joel Miller, a guy you haven't seen in forever, too busy living in the dorms, girl dates with Sarah often out of her house. You wanted to explore the world: you weren't ten anymore, and the suburbs lost all of it's appeal they had when you were the age of Barbies and drawing on chalk.

"Listen, y/n. I tried, I really tried. But as soon as I opened my mouth, he started to pack his bags"

"Isn't your dad always busy at work?" you inquire, another one of the reasons Joel's face isn't a fresh memory in your head.

"That's part of the problem. He took all of the pending vacations he had at once" she sighs, sounding as dissapointed as you are. "I understand if you don't want to go"

"Are you being serious right now?" you chuckle dryly. "No, absolutely not. I saved for this trip, packed my favorite outfits and aced all my classes so my parents would allow me. Nothing is going to ruin this for me: not you, not your dad. So we'll go and we'll have all the fun we planned, yeah?" you express firmly, holding her hands. "We will have our girl summer, no matter what. Even if we have to ignore the elephant in the room..."

"Did you just call me fat?"

You turn around, and there he is: the uninvited. Joel Miller's aged face stands before you, strong arms flexing under the pressure of a couple of suitcases.

"No" you reply back, "just a nuissance"

He chuckles at your response, amused. "If you thought I'd let my babygirl go alone with you to the beach and get shit-faced drunk, you're not as smart as I remember, y/n"

Your name would always be on his tongue to call you out. Y/n, don't do that. Y/n apologize to the neighbours. Y/n, slow down. Y/n, don't be so stubborn. You were always a troublemaker, and his lips would only know how to pronounce your name if to berate you. But now, as his mouth says your name with a newly learned tone, dripping with dare and amusement, you can't help but feel a fire ignite that burns your skin.

"Dad!" Sarah calls out, taking you out of your thoughts. She flushes in embarrasment, and you scoff at the idea of giving too much of your time to think about Mr. Miller of all people. "I'm not ten anymore, we'll be just fine"

"You're barely of legal age!" he counters back. "What if somethin' was to happen to you, huh? I'd never forgive myself"

You get annoyed at his over-the-top reactions. What did he think you were gonna do? The wildest thing you had in mind was getting drunk while sitting in the sand. Not even in the water! You may be a wild spirit, but stupid you're not.

"Look, Mr. Miller" he cocks his head to the side, daringly so, almost as if waiting for you to try. "I don't know what you're thinking, but this isn't Driveway Dolls" he looks at you confused, so you try again, "Or Thelma and Louise, whatever suits your fucking old ass. Alright? This is a girls trip, heard that? Just two bestfriends enjoying their youth and summer without boys around to ruin it for them"

"Boys?" he laughs. "Too bad, then, 'cause sweetheart, I'm a man"

Your breath hitches, but you're not going to let him win; you always need to have the last word.

"Well, man up and let your daughter be free for once!"

Sarah covers her face with her palms, clearly knowing her dad more. This is a lost battle.

"Stop, y/n. Please. Dad's impossible to bend"

"He's ruining our trip!" you protest, feeling like a child throwing a tantrum.

"Take it or leave it" he leans against his truck, crossing his arms. Your eyes dart to the strained fabric of his sleeves, and when he chuckles, you don't know if he noticed or it's because of his imminent victory.

"Fine!" you throw your hands in the air, dramatically so. "Welcome on board, intruder"

Joel Miller smiles, and maybe it's the rare sight, not even common back in the day, that makes your heart skip a beat.

"And we're taking my truck"

"Are you being serious right now?!" Was this man going to take away all your freedom?

He laughs, mockingly. Rage bubbles in your chest, along something darker you aren't going to admit just yet.

"There is no way my daughter is going on a fucking hatchback to the beach"

You try to distract yourself talking to Sarah in the backseat, but her dad's prying glances time to time from the rear view mirror have you shifting uncomfortably on your seat.

He's persistent, always has been. Joel Miller, just as Sarah said, wasn't a man who could be bent. You'd remember thinking he was a sort of superhero: unbreakable. Whenever Sarah needed help, a pair of strong arms would be there, ready to take the weight off of her shoulders. He was now older, as you have noticed: grey and wrinkles sprayed all over his face. And now, the worst part of it all:

Age had made him infuriatingly attractive.

Unfair, you think, that a man so bitter that only seemed to worry and nag, was blessed with the rare quality of aging like wine. You can deny it anymore: whatever Joel Miller has now that he didn't before is working on you like a lovesick spell.

You look again to the front, just in time to catch one of his subtle (not really) stares. You keep the eye contact, only he tears away his gaze first, something akin to regret and fear circling on his warm brown orbs. The fire from before cracks inside of your belly, and the anticipation begins.

If he was going to ruin your trip, you might as well return the favor.

"M' gonna stop for gas" he says after some minutes of silence, deviating towards a gas station.

You take the opportunity to get out of the truck to strech your legs. Sarah does so too, but then whispers into your ear:

"Tell my dad I need to go to the bathroom. Don't want him worrying"

As if you'll talk to him. Despite that, you nod and she leaves you alone with her annoying dad.

"Reckless too, huh?" Joel appears by your side, almost making you drop your phone. "You know you're not s'pposed to use the damn phone on a gas station? Good thing I ain't let my daughter go alone with you"

You put your phone down. "Reckless? I know what I'm doing" but you sound nervous, for some reason.

"You haven't changed at all, have you?" Joel says, his voice surprisingly soft.

You heart gets stuck in your throat at the sudden shift, "I suppose not"

"I get that you hate me" he confesses, done filling the tank, "but I couldn't let the two of you go alone"

Your cheeks turn pink at the accusation, "I don't hate you"

He laughs, and the sound has something stirring in the lower of your belly. Why is Joel Miller of all people provoking feelings in you no other boy has ever provoked? You're used to playing with boys as you please, and you come to realize that's where the difference lies: you don't know how to handle a man.

A man so strong, your eyes don't leave him as his arms flex while pumping the gas, the delicious peek his simple white shirt gives you not going unnoticed; droplets of sweat on his temple, sliding down his jawline then getting lost down the crook of his neck. You lick your lips on instinct, horrified when you realize what you've just thought and done.

"Damn right you don't"

You could say you've reached some kind of truce, but then Sarah comes back, and when you look at Joel again, he's reverted to that annoying apathic state of his, but instead of bothering you, it only makes you want more.

"Hey" he says to Sarah, "where you went?"

"I had to pee, dad. Relax" she dismisses, shooting at you a can-you-believe-it look.

He walks away, ready to jump in the driver's seat again, when he turns around to whisper to Sarah:

"Don't ever leave me again" tone stern, "not with her"

But you hear.

You arrived late, the sun hiding behind the large body of water that seemed infinite.

"I can't believe we missed the first sunset!" you whine. "It was going to look so good on my Instagram stories..."

"This generation and their problems" Joel scoffs, taking the suitcases to the house you've rented for the next two days.

The answer is right at the tip of your tongue, but you decide to be the bigger person and remain quiet. If he wants to play, you better play smart.

"Dad, please" Sarah calls him out, and you have to hide a laugh. "Don't fight with y/n"

"I ain't doing shit" he sneers, crossing his bulking arms.

Sarah walks past him, muttering against his childishness. That angers Joel, who tries to remain cool.

"I know you hate me" you suddenly appear by his side. Your vainilla scent gets up on his nose, invading his body of you. "I just think you should try, for Sarah"

"I don't hate you" he answers, and now it's your turn to laugh.

"Yeah? Doesn't seem like it, Mr. Miller" it comes out before you can stop it, and there's something dark lurking behind his brown eyes piercing through you.

"I don't" sounding more sure this time. Serious too.

"You'll have to prove that?"

You enjoy the surprise on his face and the light pink sprinkled across his cheeks.

"Prove that?"

You nod, finding all of this suddenly funny.

"Hmh, you heard me. Prove it, Mr. Miller. That you don't hate me"

But before he can respond, your bestfriend is back.

"Y/n, come on! You need to check the house. It has a shared balcony!" Sarah beams giddy.

You let her excitement infect you, taking her hand as you go inside the house. Joel stays back, your words ringing on his ears.

On the other hand, Sarah and you check the room together.

"Look this" she points at one of the mirrors in the room: it has details that remind you of the sea. "Isn't it cute?"

"It is" you agree, "we should take a picture"

"Okay. But use your phone" she says, "mine died on the road"

You're about to pull it out when you feel your pockets empty.

"It's... not here"

"You might left it in the car" she tries to help.

"Yeah" you try to remain level-headed, "I'll go search for it"

You return to the truck, pressing your head against the window. Just like your friend guessed, it's there, abandoned on the seat.

"Lost somethin'?"

You gasp, turning around. Joel Miller's face is centimeters away from yours, breathing heavily as his body cages your smaller frame against the truck's doors.

"My phone" you find your voice after what feels like eternity, "it's inside the car" "Need help with that?" his voice sounds low, whisper easily to be confused with a growl.

You don't know how to answer, scared for the first time of where your mouth could take you. So your solution is to nod, and step aside for him to open the car.

"There you go" he's dropping it in your hands, fingers lightly brushing yours. There's a shiver down your spine despite the cool weather, and you know damn well it's all his fault.

"Need anything else?" but it feels like a slap to the face, as if he's challenging you to speak what you've been thinking but are too coward to do when he stands before you.

"No" you mentslly slap yourself for how pathetic you sound, "this is all I needed, Mr. Miller. Thanks"

You look back one last time, despite the beating of your heart. And there it is: that same look he gave you in the car, except this time, there's something darker lurking in the corner of his eyes.

"Anytime" but it falls deaf to your ears, as you basically ran away from him.

Him and his imposing presence, enough to make your legs tremble and your mind to stop working. Him and his smell, that brings you back to simpler times and reminds you of a a secret place in the woods, musk getting under your skin. Him and his breath, hitching when you touch hands. Him and his beating heart, just as loud as yours.

"Took you long" Sarah comments when you return, "I was already falling asleep"

She doesn't know or suspect, you tell yourself, but that doesn't stop your heart from beating fast.

That night, as Sarah lays by your side and you try to sleep, all you can think about is his big hands, the lingering feeling of a warm touch. And then Joel, stepping back―coming to his senses; as if something is holding him back.

Anytime.

You can't help but wonder what stopped him.

Days have blurred between drinks by the poolside, waves crashing, wet sand in your fingers and sun carressing skin.

Despite what happened, Joel remains in the shadows, letting you and Sarah enjoy your trip in peace. You may be spending time with your bestfriend, but his presence hangs in the air, impregnated with his strong pine and whisky smell, looming over you like a shadow; suffocating, like his scent is all you can breath. You hate how your mind keeps going back to him, because despite your inicial claims to ruin him, that wasn't the purpose of this vacation, yet Joel seems to have infected you with a need that corners your mind to think of him and him only. The greed you feel is unnatural, like a spell has been cast upon you. He may be far, just as you wanted, and you should enjoy that, but it's that very same distance that is driving you insane.

Today, you and Sarah decided to go diving and then play volleyball.

The day ends, the sun sets, and so does the tiredness. But as Sarah's snores fill your ears, you toss around the bed, trying to conceal sleep to no avail.

Staring at the ceiling, you kept drifting back to Joel, mind wondering and heart racing at thoughts of strong arms caging you, warmth in your body that the breeze creeping through flowing curtains fails to provide.

The sound of wood creaking jolts you awake. His silhoutte is hard to miss, and your eyes follow it cross your bedroom. You pretend to be asleep, his scent up your nose as he walks in careful measured steps, trying not to wake you up. He looks back at Sarah, and the moonlight betrays him when it shines over his eyes, revealing an adoration that gwans your chest.

He keeps walking, until he reaches the shared balcony. It's then that you make a choice, heart pounding in your chest as you race yourself from bed, going his way.

You go outside, finding him resting his arms on the balcony, facing the beach in silence. Soft waves crash against the wet sand, but not even that can overpower the sound of your beating heart.

"What're you doin' here?" he's asking, even if you haven't moved from your spot. Seems like your friend wasn't joking about his heightened senses, despite his old age. "Thought y'were 'sleep"

"Well, Sarah is a fast sleeper" you answer, walking to his side.

"She sure is" and the faintest of a smile appears on his face.

Joel Miller is a mystery to you: the most closed off man you've ever met, hiding behind his apparent apathy that only seems to be gone whenever Sarah is around. She's the apple of his eye, and those soft traces of a more tamed character that come to light have truly picked your interest, begging for more crumbs that will help you puzzle who he really is: he, that is as handsome as a mystery. The worst is, you don't know what attracts you more.

But you won't let him win.

"Mr. Miller?"

"Yeah?"

"Were you married?"

He looks at you, dark eyes partly iluminated by the moonlight.

"Aren't you a bit too young to be bold?"

"And aren't you too hot to be all alone?" you reply in an instant, rendering him speechless.

He chuckles, but it sounds defeated rather than amused.

"Trust me, kid" he's back at facing the ocean. Goddamn coward. "This isn't what you want"

"Don't call me kid" you berate, almost repulsed at it. "I'm twenty one"

He scoffs. "Still hella young"

"But I know what I want" a wavering hand ready to trace over his pecs, but he's stopped you before it descends. Before it's too late.

"You don't" he assures, grip on your hand stronger, without knowing how much you're enjoying this. Or maybe he does. "See? That's the problem with you kids: you think you do, but you don't"

You loose your patience.

"Tell me then, Mr. Miller. Would a kid do this?"

Taking the distraction, the same hand flies now to grop his dick, and to your surprise, it's already hard.

"Seems I'm not the only one who doesn't know what they want"

"Stop" he warns, hissing when your eager fingers unbuckle his belt. It's huge, for some reason, and you can't help but feel an ardent throb at the thought of grinding on it.

When your eyes look at Joel, he swears he sees you devilishly smirk, almost as if you were mocking him.

"Stop?" you bite your lip, feigning innocence as doe eyes look where dark ones had done before. "If that's what you want, you aren't even trying"

You kneel down, and the position gives you the perfect side of his adam's apple bobbing in a nervous gulp. He grows insecure under your intense stare, breath hitching when the wind hits his now free member as you pull down his underwear, revealing it hard and leaking with precum. You laugh delighted, with victory, and he finds himself trapped between the moon and your games, drowning on a sea feet away.

"I think I know what you want"

"How? If you don't even know what you want" barely fighting it.

Your fingers grace over his soft abdomen, tracing down his belly and happy trai. Your teeth nip at the skin scattered with soft rosy lines, entertaining your mouth until your digits touch his hard cock. He whines, squirming, and you're delighted with the receptiveness, needy sounds escaping his overstimulated lips.

You haven't even started yet.

"You're right, I don't" you agree. "All I know is you piss me off and that you ruined our trip, so I'm gonna take my anger out on you one way... or another"

You take your first lick, savouring the dark red head. His hips buck, a shaky gasp robbed from his chapped lips.

"Fuck" he exhales weakly, lost against the sound of water.

"Don't worry, Mr. Miller. I'll take good care of you" admiring his girth; nothing you couldn't take. He looks down on you, bottom lip caught between his teeth. Joel can't lie and say he isn't fascinated with the way you look at him, not believing so much appetite can fit in such a small young body. Not even his partners before you, had looked at him like he was the best thing in the world, and now here you were: the loud-mouthed brat best friend of his daughter, sucking his cock while Sarah slept just a few meters away. Just yersteday he was bickering with you, not standing your spoiled attituted and juvenile spirit that can't be tamed and won't shut up. Hell, you had even disrespected him. But here he is, not being able to find the words or actions to stop you: because he doesn't want to.

It was all so fucked up.

But then you're closing your lips around his swollen head, and he knows there's no point in fighting it anymore, his whole body urging him to give in.

"Oh, fuck" he pants, getting all worked up as you take him deeper. "Keep goin'. You're doin' a great job, sweetheart"

The praise gets to you, even if not needed.

Your tongue swirls, running the muscle with wet slides, up and down, tip to base, some pressure applied. You proceed to take in his balls, feeling him tense up. You wanted him to mock him badly, but your mouth was full of his dick, so that wasn’t happening.

"D-don't stop" he pleads, sounding more like a whine.

He's deep enough that it hits your throat. You've never been this greedy, but also, have never tried with a dick so big. You feel him in the roof of your mouth, your lips at the base of the tip, brushing against skin. Joel can't keep up: breath hitching, moans ragged and consumed, barely standing if it wasn't for your hands digging in his thighs for support.

You keep building pace, seeing Joel's face scrunch up.

"M' close" his voice comes out strained, his head tilting back, wild soft locks from before now plastered against his forehead, dripping with sweat. His muscles tense, you can feel it, and it's just about time before he's coming inside your mouth.

You want it. To taste more of him, who you claim to hate but feels oh so good. Strong, just as his presence.

"So good, fuck, you're so good" in a tone so needy and desperate. It falls out of his lips, followed by more unintelligible praises dripping from his tongue.

And then, in a shaky breath, lost to the wind:

"Y/n"

You gasp, and he feels it, the air ticklish on his sensitive skin.

Joel said your name.

Your name, in a way it had never been said before. Uttered like a prayer, submerged in devotion. Your name, melting into his moans, deep within him, the calling full of a primal desire. The experience is intoxicating, making you crave more.

Joel comes with a groan, head falling back. Your name dies on his lips as his hips thrust up with your lips closing in. Thick spurts of cum mix with saliva in the back of your throat. You pull out, a string of saliva still connecting you to his dick. He looks down on you, body shaking as much as yours. Without breaking eye contact, he wipes some of the mess drooling from your lips, his calloused thumbs carresing you with a softness you didn't think was possible. The contrast makes you falter a bit, and you know Joel notices.

"There you go" your voice comes out hoarse, avoiding his eyes, "now you know what you want"

He chuckles, giving you a hand to stand up. As you raise to your feet, his face is barely inches away from yours. You can see the lines time has marked across his face, the grays coloring hair you remember to be brown, and those eyes―piercing through you like they know you better than you know yourself.

"But do you?"

Joel Miller doesn't know what is regret.

He didn't feel it when Sarah arrived unexpectedly at the ripe age of twenty, forcing him out of college. He didn't feel it when Sarah's mother left him alone to raise his daughter all by himself, aware he had tried it all to make it work. He surely didn't feel it when you came back after leaving Texas, long gone the childlike wonder and features that made him see you as an extension of his daughter, his gaze lingering a bit too long on this familiar face in a beautiful blooming new body.

But this is different, and he isn't sure if, for the first time, he's finally known what is regret.

Joel Miller also doesn't know when to back out of a fight.

He remember his brother Tommy, practically begging to let go of some asshole that dared to pick up on him, knuckles bloody no matter if he was young then and old as stubborn now, the same red painted across his willfull hands.

But now those hands prickle and sweat, no matter how much he runs them over the fabric of his jeans. And now, as your dangerous stare pierces through him across the small table, Sarah oblivious to the game as she quietly munchs her cereal, Joel Miller backs down, his gaze the first to look away.

He realizes just now why he was so afraid to look up to the sky after you left. The same stars that stared back from the high of the dark night are akin to the ones dancing in your eyes.

"Mr. Miller" your voice breaks his train of thoughts.

"Where's Sarah?" he asks in a panicked voice, realizing you've been left alone.

"Brushing her teeth" you answer, slightly taken back by his tone. "We were going out today, remember?"

Ah, yes. A little tour to an island not to far away from there.

"M' not goin'. Sorry, kid" he's decided. Before you can speak, Sarah returns and asks the question herself.

"M' tired. That's all" but it sounds rather an excuse.

"Are you sure, dad?" Sarah presses, not sure why he had changed his mind at the last minute.

"Yeah" he insists, all while avoiding those eyes of yours, unsatisfied and searching for answers of questions qithout a voice. "You girls go and have fun"

So you do.

You go and feel like you're inside of Mamma Mia (your favorite movie; both of you learned ABBA's discography thanks to it, something that offended your parents), the sun reflecting in the water, the little island with its green and sun, and the flowers that dust their petals into the shore where your boat arrives.

But when the trip is over and soft waves rock your return, you think of Joel.

You think you should feel at least a little ashamed of becoming so obssesed with a man in barely two days, who, on top of it all, is your bestfriend's dad. But then you remember the taste of him inside your mouth, how his dick had rasped against your throat, his seed warm in the tip of your tongue. And then his eyes, promises meant to be broken locked away behind tides of fear, that do an excellent job of reminding you how easy is to drown; to fall for how in hazel flickers, Joel seems he'd give you the world.

"Let's get drunk" you deadpan once you're back at the shore.

Sarah laughs at your determination, then realizes you're serious.

"What?"

"Yeah, it's our last day here" you reason. "Besides, your dad isn't here. What's he going to say?"

If you sound between angry and dissapointed at his absence, Sarah remains quiet.

"We're running away" she tries one last time, but by the look in your eyes, you've made your choice.

"Are we? We're twenty-one, Sarah. We can do whatever the fuck we want" you feel rebellious all of a sudden, "what? Don't you wanna give this trip a grand finale?"

So you crash into the nearest bar and waste the night away, drinking and dancing. But you're ordering a drink you don't like, and in every glass of whiskey down your throat, his name hangs in the air like the memory of his smell, locked behind a vault as if it's too sacred to say. But when Sarah gets a boy to dance and lends his friend to you, you wish there was rough where soft meets your skin, and chapped when you kiss his lips. Your body burns ablaze with sweat, alcohol and regret, a dangerous combination that makes you pull Sarah out of the bar when you feel you're about to black out. She complains, but you're set on making it to the bed before your eyelids shut.

Maybe it's because you always had what you wanted, or maybe it was the forbidden, but whatever reason had pushed you in Joel's orbit, refused to let you go.

And maybe you're imagining his voice, scolding you likea kid. Maybe you're seven again, and in the shadows of the bed, you've gone back to your childhood days. Y/n, y/n, y/n. That sick berating tone of his, acting like you're stupid and small.

"Fucking brat" he spats, drops of his angry scowl landing on your cheek. You then realize he's hovering over you, and it's real, not a product of your foggy mind. So you stand up, sobering up a bit, when he charges back again. "Makin' my daughter pass out? What the fuck were you thinkin'? Could've ended in the middle of the street. You're s'pposed to go to the damn island and then come back!"

Your mouth tastes like sand, but even if you've passed out a couple hours ago, the fire doesn't die. So your tongue is back, finding it's voice to say:

"Well, if you hadn't left us alone, this wouldn't have happened"

He chuckles, darkly. Humorless. "I see"

"What?" you challenge, a shiver down your spine that looses itself somewhere else.

"You got my daughter drunk as revenge"

You're mortified at the accusation, the remnants of alcohol now long gone of your system.

"Do you think I'd risk me and my friends' safety for you? Out of all people, you?" not caring if you sound bitter.

The truth sticks to your skin as uncomfortably as the sweat.

"I dunno, sweetheart. That's why I'm asking you" the pet name rolls effortlessly, in a rough voice that creates a wet spot in your panties. He gets closer, and you can see the tremble of his lips as he lets out a shaky breath. "Be a good girl and answer"

"I won't tell you shit" you spit.

"You little mix, thinkin' you can run your tongue like it ain't been 'round my cock before" you look like a deer caught in headlights, and Joel's enjoying this more than he should. "That's right, what'd Sarah think knowing her friend's a little slut for daddy's cock?"

The electric current that crosses your body sparks the fire of the woods hiding behind his auburn storms.

Now you're feeling high on a forest fire. You want the flames to engulf you, even if ashes is all there'll be left.

"Tell me you want this" his forehead clashes against yours, and the whole world falls silent, except for your ringing ears.

"I want this" and he's just as surprised as you are by the unwavering conviction. "I need you, Mr. Miller"

You try to get up, but he pushes you with full force back into your bed. Then, the base creaks, and he's on top of you, his weight pressing you against the mattress.

"What are you-"

"You think I'd let you get away easily? Have things your way? Naive lil' girl" he tuts, "I'll punish you for that"

As on cue, drowned out snores are heard from your side.

"But, Sarah-" you try to protest, his body caging you under his mercy.

"That'll mean you're behavin', right?" he runs his thumb across your lips, gently pulling them down, as if the chase was thrilling as eating the prey. "I know you don't want to wake her up and see her slut of a friend bangin' her daddy"

You tense, remaining silent at the threat, even if your body reacts other ways.

"Good girl"

He’s quick to get rid you of your shorts.

"Fuckin' hell" he murmurs against your neck, the clothing discarded somewhere in the room. "Wearin' this little shitty bottoms to rail me up, knowin' damn well when to bent and get me hard. Been thinkin' of takin' them off ever since you wore 'em first"

The confession makes you whine, and Joel's delighted by the sound, and just how putty you are under his big rough hands.

"Let's see what we got here" his large hands caress your thighs as he settles between your legs. "Black lace, baby? Such a fuckin' tease. Wore 'em for me?"

You shake your head, but his calloused digits dig on the plush skin of your thighs, making you wince at the pain.

"Don't lie to me, sweetheart. You'd said you'll be a good girl, yeah?" you nod, soaking wet, painfully so.

"Yes, I'll be"

"Show me your manners, then" he presses light kisses on the insides of your thighs, close to where you need his graying beard to tickle, "and I'll show you mine"

"Just eat me, Joel" you demand breathlessly. "Fuck. Need you, Mr. Miller, so bad"

"And why should I reward you, impatient little slut? Eager to get daddy's filthy mouth between that pretty pussy" Joel bites the inside of your thigh, and it takes all of your strength to avoid becoming a moaning mess. "You've been bad, sweetheart. A brat"

You deny it, but his head dissappears between your legs, licking the wet spot on your panties. You squirm under the teasing of his tongue, legs shutting close on instinct. You drown a whimper in your palm as he yanks your panties away.

"Don't do anything I ain't tell you to" demanding, and if you weren't this horny and out of your mind, you'd probably be scared. "There'll be consequences"

You try to obey. But then his nose, that big nose you want covered in your slick as you grind off of it between your legs, sniffs your panties. He gives it one big sniff, and then two, fingers going white as he holds the piece of fabric with too much force, shoving it on his face.

"Ye'r too fuckin' sweet, I'll give you that" he mumbles in a drunken haze. "Need to taste that drippin' cunt of yours 'night"

The bed creaks again, or maybe it's the sound of his bones starting to give in to old age, but Joel is sucking your clit, tongue pushed inside of your puffy folds. You hide a moan against his lips, hands traveling to grip his hair.

"Joel" you breathe out. 

He parts your folds easily, and before you know it, a rugged finger circles your entrance. Your back arches, and then he leaves place for his mouth again, flicking your sensitive core with his tongue. A moan a little too loud escapes your lips, making his eyes darken when the bed next to you shifts, Sarah tossing in her sleep.

"You dumb fuckin' brat. What'd I say?" his hand slams against your pussy, a sting you've never felt before, both showered in pain and pleasure, spreading across your cunt. "Don't disobey me. Apologize, now"

He stops his minstrations, and you're so achingly close to your orgasm, that the answer falls easy and rushed from your lips.

"Sorry, Mr. Miller"

"Good girl" Joel praises as he pushes his finger in, next to his tongue on your clit.

But the orgasm is so deliciously close, and you can't wait for more. So now you're grinding in his face by reflex, rubbing against his big nose just like you'd imagined. You whine at the sensation, and Joel rests his tongue flat on your clit with surprise.

"Who gave you permission to do that? Fuckin' brat. That imagination of yours is somethin' else, sweetheart. Have you been thinkin' bout it all this time? Greedy dirty slut"

The orgasm looms closer, hitting when Joel pushes a second rough finger in, walls clenching against his digits.

He finally pulls away, licking his fingers with his tongue.

"Such a perfect pussy you got there, sweetheart. As sweet as you when you ain't bein' a pain in the ass"

You laugh breathless, trying to recover.

"Wanna taste?"

So now he's kissing you for the first time, his lips rough against plush skin, nibbling with your lower lips between his teeth, his tongue still tasting like you roaming free inside your mouth, like he wants to mark every corner; imprint himself in you.

"There you go" he chuckles, enamoured at the sight of your puffy lips. "Now it's my turn"

He's quick to get rid of the jeans and belt (oh well, it'll be another day) until he's over you, just wearing his boxers.

You'd never seen Joel naked before, why would you? But there's a vague memory of hot summer days, trying to survive the heat in the town's pool, just as the rest. He was there, eye candy for the mothers and horny teens. You hadn't understand back then, when he was all muscle, but you do know, where the mighty strenght is still hidden there, somewhere between his sturdy arms and chest as soft as his belly, pushing above the only piece of cloth that forbids you to see his dick, yet the tight outline helps the picture in your head. His chest is full of hair, and God, you feel so dirty wanting to bury your face in the sweat drenched patch of hair.

"Stop lookin' at me like that" he teases, but there is a small voice of insecurity hiding its undertones beneath his smirk and under your insisting stare.

"You're so fucking hot, Joel" comes out before you can stop it, now mouth acting up on its own.

Fuck, he thinks, he's too far gone. There's no point of return.

Your eager fingers pull down the underwear, fingers grazing the softness of his length. You slowly grabs his dick as he comes closer, never seeing anything as big and provoking as it. That makes you tighten your grip on his dick, which stands proud and tall, leaking precum, and the muscles of his thighs strain against his skin. 

He positions himself between your legs again.

"Let's put this big bad boy to use, huh?"

He grunts at your words, large hands finding your thighs for support, as he caresses up and down the skin littered with marks and kisses.

Joel pushes in. Just his tip, yet your mouth falls open at how large he already feels, and you tighten your hold on his neck.

"Tell me if it hurts" all softness on his eyes, his forehead falling against yours, as if he hadn't been punishing you just minutes ago. Your heart races at the gesture, tender meeting the rough of his edges.

The real question isn't asked, but you're on the pill and you trust him. You just want to fill him inside of you, all of him.

"I will, Mr. Miller"

He slams all the way in. You let out a broken sound, quickly muffled by his palm as he stays buried deep inside of you, givimg you time to adjust to his size. It burns, but you enjoy the way the pain feels. He slowly pulls out, before pushing all the way in again. Your slick folds take him, and he grunts, supporting his aching body by the forehead against yours one more time.

"So tight, sweetheart. Ain't nobody ruinin' this pussy but me" his growl comes out possesive as Joel establishes a steady rhythm. You softly moan as he keeps moving, pounding into you, hitting a spot no one had before, making you see stars. It gets harder to stay quiet, but Joel caputres every little sound that comes out of you in a kiss, as if that way he could preserve them better and forever.

You wrap your legs tight around him, keeping him close as your walls clench around him, his thrusts harder yet slower as he keeps going, ramming into you.

"Look at you, coatin' my dick like a fuckin' meltin' ice cream" he gently pushes it again between your folds, rubbing his dick on your clit. "So fuckin' wet, for me"

His lips are slightly parted and his eyes looked all fogged up, lost in the fire, thrusts becoming sloppier as he too feels it coming.

"So fuckin' pretty" drips from his mouth, and there's the stars in your eyes and the light you insist he's always had, even if he'd prefere the darkness. "The prettiest girl in the world with the sweetest pussy, givin' it all to this ol' perverted fuck"

The words and his big dick inside of you makes your eyes flutter shut on instinct.

"Don't sleep on me, baby" he coos, a hand brushing damp hair from your face. You recognize the look: the same in the car, on the balcony and on the poarch of his house, after letting the years go by. Back then, you thought you had dreamed it, but now that the secret saccharine sweetness reveals herself as he slams into you, you know it was real.

This is real.

You meet his gaze again and try to hold it as he pounds you so gently yet so rough, trying to show him without words that whatever this wrong and sick feeling was, you felt the same.

"Such'a good girl, takin' me so well" Joel grunts loudly, slamming to the hilt. "Fuck, sweetheart, I'm gonna-"

His dick twitches inside of you, walls spasming around his cock as your pussy takes it all, milking him dry.

"Take it all, like the good girl you are"

Both of you pant, and it takes him a while to realize the sun is raising again until its rays hurt his eyesight.

He's about to tell you how this shouldn't be, how he, at such an old age shouldn't be pinning for his daughter's friend: so young, sweet and loud-mouthed. No matter if you felt the same, or if your body was marked in an out by him, No, because wanting isn't enough, and no tide could wash away his sins from the shore.

"Listen, y/n-" your name like he has never said it before: no scold, no malice nor lust. Just a softness he hadn't felt in years, asleep under thick layers of cold.

But your soft snores fill the silence between the beats of his heart.

tags: @yesjazzywazzylove-blog @pedrosgrogu thank you sm for reading! hope u enjoy it :)

[burningembers91]

Back Alley Bar - Seong Gi-Hun x Fem!Reader

Synopsis: Seong Gi-Hun has given up on life, given up on himself. But for some reason, the pretty girl who serves him drinks still thinks he can be saved.

Seong Gi-Hun was a typical example of “like father, like son.” He was unreliable, he was selfish, he was sneaky and a liar. He was the spitting image of his father, and his father before him; a complete and utter lowlife. His marriage had crumbled, his wife and daughter had left him to start a new life in America, and his mother was recently deceased. She’d passed away on the floor of their living room while Gi-Hun gambled away the money he could have used to save her life. 

He didn’t deserve to live, didn’t deserve to still be breathing when his mother wasn’t. She had given everything to her son, forgiven him time and time again. She had been the epitome of patient, always giving him another chance to redeem himself. Gi-Hun didn’t deserve redemption, and while he waited for the devil to collect his dues, he would slowly drink himself into the abyss. 

That was where he’d met you, in some dive bar in a back alley, slumped over the bar with a whiskey in his hand. You were there working part time, using the cash to pay for a university degree. Every shift you worked, Gi-Hun was there, drinking himself into a stupor. Most nights you’d call him a cab home, but some nights you’d drive him home yourself, idly making conversation as you drove through the dark Seoul streets. He rarely responded, but you never gave up. You’d seen more than your fair share of shit in your time as a bartender, but you’d never seen anyone as broken as Gi-Hun. Whatever had happened to him, it must have been bad. You weren’t even sure if he knew who you were; he was so drunk most of the time it was miracle he could remember anything about the previous night. But he knew who you were; you were one piece of light in his dark, dark world. 

He knew you thought he wasn’t listening when you chatted to him in the car on the way home. But he remembered everything you said to him. How you were bartending on top of working full time as a teacher to save up to go back to university. How you’d just broken up with your boyfriend, but you didn’t really mind because he’d been a prick anyway. How your dream was to become a historian, but you were worried you were too old to change career. 

“Why do you do this?” He mumbled one night, as you walked with him to your beaten up, rust bucket of a car. 

“What do you mean?” You asked, throwing your bag into the back before climbing into the drivers side. 

“Why do you help me? I’m no one. I don’t deserve your kindness.”

“You are not no one.” You turned to look at him in the passenger seat, resisting the urge to touch his cheek. This man was so broken, and you had no idea how to help him. 

“I’ve done bad things,” he whispered, “I’ve hurt people. I’ve stolen, I’ve lied, I’ve cheated.”

You took a deep breath, staring out of the windscreen as rain began to fall, battering the concrete around you. 

“It’s never too late to make a change,” you said, although you knew all too well how that was easier said than done. 

Gi-Hun laughed bitterly. “Changing now won’t bring my mother back from the dead. It won’t bring my daughter back from America. It won’t make my wife come back to me.”

You didn’t know what to say, so you stayed silent. How did you help a man who was so broken, so beyond repair? 

As you dropped him off outside his dilapidated apartment, you called to him through the sound of the pouring rain. 

“I’m not giving up on you, Seong Gi-Hun!” You smiled at him, and even through his drunken haze he could tell what a beautiful smile it was. He would never understand why you helped him, would never understand why you’d decided he was worth saving. Everyone had given up on him, but for some reason you wouldn’t. 

A woman like you didn’t need a man like him. You needed someone who could care for you, who wouldn’t leave you broken into pieces as he’d left everyone he’d cared about. But your words echoed in his head as he drifted off to sleep. “You’re not no one. It’s never too late to change.”

Maybe you were right; maybe there was still time to atone for his sins.

[strawberrij]

I LOVE THINKING ABOUT THIS

i like to think that he maybe didn't ORIGINALLY write everyone's story (that may be something mortals are just intrinsically born with), but he can add and alter details for mortals! But not for the other gods hehe

i dont think he can make characters, but he can recognize that they were made by a Different Being for a Plot that he can have some influence over

All of the gods do seem to have some degree of omniscience / future prediction, except in the case of predicting / understanding each others' actions. There's a good amount of 4th wall breaking and fluidity in the extent of this, particularly with click-- he seems to have multiple levels of consciousness, not all of them self-aware. this is especially noticeable in his narration, but also in scenes like him discovering that he's one of the speed dating matches. maybe he can't always control the level of detail in his writing/edits, or this could fall back to him not being able to directly manipulate the stories/actions of the gods

Most likely, these levels of consciousness allow him to break the 4th wall and view the plot from a partially external POV, but not entirely external since he and other gods can still interact with the people and throw a curveball here and there that unexpectedly moves the story forward (like with the ending of oh partner mine)! And the gods' realm beyond the rift can function as a space outside of this plot timeline, explaining why he can't predict his own relevance to the story.

that could also explain why nobody knew what was going on with king, since she was being held in inspekta's(?) realm!

Click Clack talks about the world like he wrote and edited it, and the people like they're his characters. He says he wrote "the perfect recipient for each speed dater," and he made sure that everyone's match is in Hobbyhoo. Does he have some control over what happens in the world and what actions people take? Can they mess with fate? Do they call the Hobbyhooians their characters because he literally made them? I need to know the extent of each god's power and if they create mortals pronto

[mrsarcherofinfamy]

Hi can you please do a Damian Priest x Reader where the reader and Damian are dating and she gets jealous about him and Kayden are making TikTok videos together ( I love Kayden and her videos ❤️). And a fluff at the end.

●Damian Priest x Reader●

____________________________________________________

*Y/N's POV*

Sitting in the passenger's seat in my best friend Zelina Vega's car, I am scrolling on TikTok as she is driving us to our next location. I come across Kayden's video and the corner says "POV: he asks you to drive." I watch it and as the camera turns towards the passenger seat, Damian's body comes into frame making me gasp.

"What's wrong? Are you okay?"

"Kayden posted another video. And apparently she is driving Damian to the next show. When he told me he was going by himself."

"Girl.... I told you he was no good for you."

"I know. You have told me multiple times."

"Yes I have. And now he is over here taking videos with Kayden acting like they are together. Again. Maybe when we get to the hotel, you take him off your reservation for the room and make him have his own room. He didn't tell you he was going with Kayden than he can be surprised about his own hotel room when he gets there."

"I guess you are right. I am very pissed off about this."

"Give him a taste of his own medicine."

I shake my head, close my phone and lay against the seat starting to fall asleep.

____________________________________________________

*at the hotel*

We walk up to the counter and a nice lady greets us.

"Hello ladies. How may I help you?"

"I'm checking in for Y/N."

"Y/N and Damian?"

"No. Just Y/N. I don't want Damian on the reservation anymore."

"Okay. I can do that for you. Give me a few minutes."

She goes on typing on the computer while we wait. Zelina goes to another lady to check in. The lady gives me my keycard and all the information making sure Damian has been taken off the reservation. We grab our belongings and head up to our hotel rooms. I say goodbye to Zelina, swipe my card and enter my room. I throw my bags on the bed and flop down next to them. Next thing I know I am fast asleep.

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

*later in the night*

"Y/N! Y/N!"

I sit up, rub my face and try to understand why I hear someone yelling my name from the hallway. I get up putting my shirt and sweatpants back on that I apparently took off some time while I was sleeping. I walk up to the door and listen to who is shouting.

"Y/N! I will break down every one of these doors until I find you!"

"Please calm down."

I open the door and slightly look out seeing Damian looking super angry standing in the hallway and Kayden in front of him with her hands on his chest trying to get him to calm down. I open the door and lean against the doorframe crossing my arms. He sees me and pushes past Kayden walking up to me.

"Y/N! Why did you take me off our reservation?! You have someone else here?!"

He pushes me out of the way of the door and walks into my room. A tear rolls down my cheek at the questions he just asked me. He starts walking around my room looking for someone when I am the only one in my room. Kayden comes up next to me, puts a hand on my shoulder and looks in at Damian.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you in any way. If there is anyth....."

I stop her before she keeps talking.

"Its not you. You didn't do anything wrong. He lied to me. And now he thinks I'm cheating on him."

"I'm gonna go."

She turns and runs down the hallway when I turn looking at Damian who is standing in the middle of the room with his arms crossed. I close the door, turn to look at him and cross my arms as well.

"Care to explain why you took me off our reservation?"

"Care to explain why you lied to me and got a ride from Kayden?"

"I didn't lie to you! Kayden is my friend! I asked her to drive me because I was exhausted from having the main event of Raw! You already left with Zelina! I didn't wanna fall asleep behind the wheel!"

"You told me to leave with Zelina! That you would be fine driving by yourself! You didn't even text me to tell me you were going with Kayden! Than you keep making these tik tok videos together and everyone thinks you two are together and dating! Like you left me behind! You barely take pictures with me but you take videos with everyone else! How do you think I feel?!"

"I don't know how you feel because you never talk to me about your feelings!"

"I try but you never seem to have time to sit down and talk! You are either wrestling or hanging out with your friends! Then when you come back home to me, you go right to bed! When is there time to talk?"

He stares at me, looking like he doesn't know what to say. I wipe the tears that have seemed to start running down my face as I just laid out all my feelings to Damian. I take a deep breath and sit down on the bed.

"Y/N, I'm sorry...."

"Damian, I don't wanna hear you are sorry. I love you. But you really need to work on communication with me and spending more time with me. That's all I ask."

He kneels down in front of me putting his hands on the top of my knees looking up at me.

"Babygirl, I love you more than you will ever know. I will work on communication with you and we will spend way more time together that you might get sick of me."

I giggle looking at him. He puts his hands on my cheeks looking at me smiling.

"I promise Y/N. With my whole heart. I love you."

"I love you too."

He pulls my face to his and kisses me hard. He starts pushing me back on the bed climbing over top of me still kissing me. Seems I will be in for a long night.....

THE END.

[supernotnatural2005]

In the Eyes of a Hunter

Pairings: Dean x Reader

Summary: Dean finally had a few days spare from hunting with his dad to come see you at college. Though you weren’t exclusive, seeing you with another man opens up a can of feelings Dean had so desperately been trying to keep closed, and a confession that could change everything.

Word count: 4.5k

Warnings: Angst, self doubt, Dean really needs to appreciate himself more 😩

AN: I know the gif is of Alec (Dark Angel) but, i couldn’t help but see a young Dean and this idea came to me 😅 It's a little more on the angsty side, but I promise the fluff is there. Also Happy New year! I know I've been away, not posting for a little while, but I'm hoping to get back into the swing of things. I hope you guys enjoy this one, let me know what you think?

Masterlist

2003

The crappy daytime shows weren’t cutting it, even in their static form from the ancient TV the motel provided. 

You were supposed to have been here two hours ago. That was the plan. Your class finished at 2, and then you were free for the day. Free to see him. 

After all, he had come all this way for you. What little time he could get away from hunting, he gave to you. He actively ignored the reason as to why he did, not wanting to admit the truth of it. Knowing it would cause more harm than it was worth. 

But as he sat here, aimlessly staring at the fuzzy figures on the screen, time slowly ticking away, his mind restless and full of scenarios that only seemed to bother him the more they spiralled, he realised maybe the harm had already been done. 

Deciding he’d waited long enough, he dropped the remote in his lap with a huff and took another look at the digital clock beside him. 

4:15 pm. 

He stood up from the bed and gathered his leather jacket and keys to the Impala his dad had officially given to him last month and headed out. Maybe you’d just gotten held up in class. He was no ‘Mr. College,’ but he understood there was a lot on your plate. At least from the last few times he’d come to see you. The stress had almost brought you to tears more than a few times, so he couldn’t understand Sammy’s desire to go. But hey ho, what did he know? He killed monsters for a living.

The rumble of the engine purred beneath him as he started the ignition. The sound echoed in the almost empty lot, bringing a proud smirk to his lips. He still couldn’t believe she was finally his. 

This car had been one of the only other constants in Dean’s life, getting them from A to B, sometimes even calling her home for the night. He knew as soon as his dad handed him the keys and handed him the responsibility of looking after her, he’d do everything in his power to do just that. 

As he drove toward your campus, the signs of autumn were heavily present with the flutters of orange and yellow leaves falling from the trees; his mind drifted to thoughts of you again. 

He had met you a year ago, having rolled through town to deal with a simple salt and burn case. He was riding solo, his dad dealing with more dire matters, like a fresh trail on Yellow Eyes. Sam had left a few months prior to go make it as a hotshot lawyer in California, leaving Dean alone in the aftermath. 

The fight between Sam and John had been ugly. Dean resorted to the middleman, as usual. He was proud of Sammy, more so that he was actually able to stand up to John, but he couldn’t help but feel the sting of abandonment. What did he have other than this job and his loyalty to finding the thing that took his mother?

After he wrapped up the case, he’d treated himself to a celebratory drink at one of the local bars, which happened to be a student hot spot, and that’s where he’d met you. 

He had noticed you almost immediately. You were breathtaking, and he’d found himself glancing in your direction more often than not, watching as you’d laughed and drank with your friends. You were so carefree, beautiful, and way out of his league for many reasons. Those reasons only multiplying once he’d gotten to know you, and they still rang true to this day.

You’d caught him staring; eventually, he’d seen your eyes flicker in his direction a few times. Despite his own self-deprecations, Dean knew he was good-looking, knew the effect he had on women, and he was surprisingly good at playing the confident ‘bad boy.’. 

He’d never really given much thought to anything other than a one-time thing. For one, it was easier that way. He never stayed in one place for longer than a couple of days, and secondly, his job wasn’t your normal 9 to 5, and having attachments was dangerous. 

However, as soon as you’d made your way over to him, after what had looked like some encouragement from your friends, and introduced yourself with that faux drunk confidence, he was hooked. 

At the time, you had just entered your senior year, and you had told him of your plans to take a gap year once you’d graduated. Like Dean, you felt a little lost in life, though for completely different reasons. Your major was something your father had insisted on, despite it not being what you had wanted to do. Apparently his plan was to have you work at his company, maybe even take over for him one day, but you hated all that corporate bullshit. 

So Dean already could relate. A demanding father whose opinion was the one and only. Maybe he did understand why Sam had left more than he originally thought. Like right now, he had this mission, his dad’s mission, yet once that was over, what next? Did he just continue what he was doing? Living off of stolen credit cards, diner food, and cheap motel rooms?

The more he got to know you, your desires and dreams to travel the world, live, and experience life, he found himself picturing that, wanting that too. You had a way of making everything seem brighter and more hopeful, making him feel like there was more to life than just a ‘job.’. 

He knows now why he kept coming back to you, why he still keeps coming back. Because for once in his life he felt seen, felt wanted, understood. And maybe it was time for him to tell you that. To tell you the truth. Consequences be damned. 

However, it was all wishful thinking, and Dean’s search for you was cut short when he spotted you walking out of the student library, your beautiful smile and sounds of laughter filtering through his open window, and beside you, another man. 

He felt his chest constrict, his stomach churn uncomfortably at the sight. His knuckles turning white as he gripped the steering wheel tight. He rolled to a stop and watched as you continued to laugh at whatever this douchebag was saying to you. 

He knew he had no right to be jealous. You weren’t exclusive. He was the one who’d made that clear, and surprisingly you had been okay with it. You didn’t know what he really did for a living, just that he had to travel a lot for ‘the family business.’. 

Though, with his recent self-revelation that his feelings for you ran much deeper than something casual, this felt like a punch to the gut. Maybe this was a sign that this whole thing was a bad idea. Why getting close to someone was not on the cards for him. Of course you would’ve met someone else. How could you not? You were beautiful, smart, funny, and sweet. Why would you wait around for some drifter like him? 

With his insecurities rearing their ugly head, threatening to swallow him whole, he failed to notice the two pairs of eyes on him. It wasn’t until there was a light rap at the window that he snapped out of his thoughts. He jumped a little and looked to where you were leaning down beside the partially opened glass, your expression surprised, but you were smiling nonetheless. 

“Hey, what are you doing here?” Came your innocent question, but it just seemed to rub him the wrong way, that and he noticed that guy lingering a few feet behind you, looking around awkwardly. 

“It was getting late; I thought I’d come see if you were okay, but I can see you’re busy.” He spoke the last words with a little more venom as he nodded to the lingerer. And he hated the slight dip in your brow and the downturn of your lips. 

“I was actually on my way to see you now.” You began, your voice light but weary. “I’m sorry I got held up. Alex just needed some help, and time got away from me.” Your explanation did nothing to calm his nerves. In fact, it made him feel worse. Like he didn’t matter. Again he had no right, but he was already spiralling. 

“You know what? It’s fine. Don’t worry about it.” He shrugged you off. “I’m going to have to cut this trip short anyway. Dad called; gotta meet him a few states over.” The lie came easily, but the knife in his heart twisted with each word. You frowned at him, he saw it in his peripheral, but he refused to meet your eyes. He couldn’t. 

“Alex, I’ll see you tomorrow.” He heard you say before you walked around the car and abruptly slipped into the passenger side. 

“What are you doing?” His question came out more snappish than he intended. You folded your arms and sat back in your seat, looking much like a stubborn child.

“We’re going to talk.” You shrugged as if that were obvious. “We can either do that here or back at the motel; your choice.” You levelled him with an unwavering stare, one that crushed his resolve and had him grumpily starting the engine and driving back to the motel. 

You walked past Dean as he opened the door for you, your eyes widening a fraction at the state of the room. It had certainly seen better days; the wallpaper was faded and peeling from the walls, and the carpet had a questionable amount of stains on it. From what? You didn’t hope to find out. He usually stayed in much nicer rooms, but seeing as it was close to the holidays, this was probably all he was going to get. 

You plopped down on the squeaky mattress and looked at him. He was avoiding your eyes, shifting awkwardly in his spot. You’d never seen him this worked up. You liked to think you knew Dean rather well, at least him as a person. He still kept some things to himself, like the details of the job he did with his dad. Sometimes he came to you looking so haunted, but those times weren’t spent with much talking. 

You were beyond curious; Dean was a mystery you were still trying to unravel. However, you knew your standpoint: that you weren’t his girlfriend and never would be. He’d made it clear from the beginning that he didn’t want to make a commitment, yet he kept coming back for you. You didn’t push him as to why he did, in fear he would stop altogether. 

If you were honest with yourself, you had fallen in love with him months ago. Yes, your situation was complicated, and he never stuck around longer than a couple of days. But Dean was special; he wasn’t like the guys you knew at college or in your life in general. He was wise beyond his years, thoughtful, funny, and smart, despite how much he called his younger brother the “brains of the family.” And he was also one of the most handsome men you’d ever laid eyes on. 

“What was that back there?” You decide to just rip the Band-Aid off. You had a pretty good idea, but you wanted to hear it from him. He finally looked to you then, his posture straightening, his arms folding across his chest as if in a defensive stance.

“I told you, I was just checking to see if you were okay.” He spoke as if he didn’t really care for the conversation, but his jaw was ticking, and his brow remained furrowed. “I have to leave, so can we make this quick?” 

It was your turn to frown then. Admittedly, his words stung; you hadn’t even had the chance to see him yet, and now he wanted to leave all of a sudden. 

“Is this because of Alex?” 

“What? No!” His response was quick and higher in pitch, and it only confirmed your assumptions. He was jealous. 

“You know he’s only a friend, right?” You offer, biting back your smile. 

“And? Why would I care who you’re friends with?” He grumbled and looked down at one of the stains on the carpet beneath his boot, fixating on it as if it were the most interesting thing he’d ever seen. 

“It just seems like you do it all.” You shrugged nonchalantly, though your voice tinged with something akin to a teasing tone. His eyes flickered back up to yours, darker than you were expecting. 

“You think I care who you hang around with? Who do you date? I don’t own you. If you want to meet guys and have boyfriends, then go ahead; I’m not stopping you.” His voice rose an octave with each word, his body trembling slightly as he unleashed kept feelings out into the open. 

“It’s not like everyone I’ve ever cared about or loved sticks around. I mean, why would they? I’m a freak, a loser.” He reveals, his eyes widening slightly at his unmeant confession. You sit in stunned silence, not expecting that outburst from him. 

“So if we’re done here, I have to leave.” He quickly adds, embarrassed and angry at himself for saying those things. Things he’d wanted to keep buried and never allow to see the light of day. He hastily begins collecting his things; there's not much, but there’s enough to give you time to snap out of your stupor. 

“Hey.” You grab onto his arm with enough force to stop him from picking up his duffle. He obliges you, but you know you have to select what you say next carefully; otherwise, you’re uncertain as to if you’d ever see him again.

“I don’t know where all that came from, but I don’t think you’re a freak or a loser.” You frown sympathetically at him. It hurt you to hear him speak so lowly of himself.

“Dean, I think the world of you.” You admit it, and his eyes flicker to yours, uncertainty shining in those pools of green. “I know our situation isn’t ideal or even normal, but in this last year of knowing you, I think you’re amazing.” 

“You do?” The question slips out involuntarily, but your responding smile is warm and calms his nerves a little. 

“Dean, you’re the best person I know, the only person I want to see. I haven’t said anything because I know you didn’t want a commitment, but dammit, I love you. I am in love with you.”

Your last word is cut off by the sudden press of his lips. Your surprise squeak quickly turns into a grateful sigh. And you wrap your arms around his shoulders and neck as he hugs you closer to him. 

He breaks away after a few minutes, your breaths mingling in the small gap between where his forehead rests against yours. 

“I’m sorry.” It’s not what you were expecting him to say, but you allow him the time to speak. “I overreacted, and I had no right to.” 

You cup his smooth cheek, which he leans into, and offer him a reassuring smile. “It’s okay.” You swipe a thumb across his cheekbone, and he takes comfort in your touch. 

“I just. I have something I need to tell you. Something I’ve kept from you, been keeping from you.” He sighs, his face tormented and sad as he pulls away. It’s worrying you, but you try to internalise it for his sake. He takes your hand and guides you to the bed until you’re both sitting side by side. 

“Dean, you can tell me anything. You know that, right?” You tell him honestly. He seems to be battling in his own mind, his internal struggle present in his rigid form and fidgeting hands. 

He huffs out a humourless laugh and rubs a hand down his face before looking at you. Really looking, and you sit quietly, but strong, showing him you’re there and are willing to listen. 

“There’s a reason I never told you what I did for a living.” He begins. “For one thing, I didn’t even think we’d even get this far, and there was no point to put that on you.” He shakes his head, his heartbeat in his ears, his stomach in knots. 

“And secondly, it’s dangerous. My job is dangerous, and I’d never want anything to happen to you.” He looks at you pleadingly, and you nod, despite the swarm of questions flooding your mind. 

Meanwhile, Dean blows out a nervous breath; he can’t believe he’s going to tell you the truth. Something he’d been the most adamant about not doing. Though he is in too deep, he knows that now, and you had a right to know, a right to run for the hills about what he was going to confess. He’d even agree with you when you called him crazy and walk out that door and never bother you again if that’s what you wanted. Selfishly, he hopes that isn’t the case, but you had a right to choose. 

“I’m a hunter.” He begins, and it hangs heavy in the air for two different reasons. For you, you’re a little confused, not understanding the dire build-up and Dean because he was unveiling his and his family’s biggest kept secret. 

“To clarify, I don’t hunt deer, elk, or critters in the woods.” He explains, but the alarming look on your face at the only other possibility to you has him panicking. “Not humans either.” He adds with a nervous chuckle, and you visibly relax. 

“I hunt monsters.” He reveals, and you stare at him dumbly for a moment. 

“Monsters?” You repeat, and Dean nods in confirmation. “As in the bogeyman?” 

“Sometimes, yeah.” Dean shrugs as if that was a casual thing to admit. You blink at him, as if you’re trying to process his words, but they don’t quite fit together in your mind. Monsters?

Your heart is pounding now, your mind racing, but all that comes out of your mouth is a shaky laugh, laced with disbelief. “Monsters?” You repeat, your voice thin and tight, like you’re testing the word on your tongue to see if it makes sense.

Dean’s face falls, and for the first time you see him as vulnerable as he’s ever been. There’s something desperate in his eyes, a plea for understanding that only seems to make the pit in your stomach widen.

“Yeah,” he says softly, nodding, but his voice cracks with the weight of the truth he’s just unleashed. “I hunt things that go bump in the night. Demons, ghosts, things like that. Creatures that don’t belong in this world.”

The room feels suddenly smaller. The air thicker. You look at him, your head spinning, and you can feel your pulse quicken as panic starts to creep in. A part of you wants to laugh it off, because this is crazy. There’s no way this could be true, right? Dean isn’t telling you the truth. It has to be some messed-up way for him to push you away.

A cold, sinking feeling settles deep in your chest. “Are you... are you serious?” Your voice comes out shaky, a whisper of disbelief hanging in the air. “Is this some kind of joke? You’re telling me... You hunt monsters?”

His expression tightens, lips pressed into a thin line, as if your question just added a fresh layer of weight to what he’s already carrying. “I’m not joking. I’ve been doing this since I was a kid. Since one of those bastards took my  mom." The room grows silent, both of you respectively reeling from his admission. 

You had always figured Dean’s mom wasn’t in the picture for the pure fact he’d only ever spoken of his dad or younger brother. For what reason you never knew; however, the truth of it was more devastating than you could comprehend. 

When he looks at you again, there’s a pain in his expression that you don’t think you’ve ever seen before, and it’s then you decide this isn’t some elaborate story to make a break-up easier on him or to spook you just for the fun of it. This was very real, and this man had been living it. 

“This life… it’s dangerous. The people I meet, the things I fight, they’ll come after anyone I care about. I never wanted to put you in that position.” Dean says, his voice breaking. “I wanted to keep you safe; you deserve so much more than this, than me. You deserve the truth.”

You stand there, trying to breathe, trying to make sense of the words he’s spoken, but it’s like your entire world has been turned upside down. Dean is telling you about this huge part of his life that he’d kept from you, and you can’t tell if you should be running for the door or if you should stay and try to understand him, to understand this.

“But why? Why did you even let me in?” You ask, your voice catching on the last word. The question haunts you, and you need to understand the answer, even though a part of you is scared of hearing it.

Dean’s eyes soften, and for a moment, you see the man behind the mask, the man who is so full of fear, so full of love, and so completely torn apart. “Because I love you,” he says simply, his voice soft but resolute. “I love you, and I never wanted to hurt you. But I don’t know how to make you understand what I do. How dangerous it is. How it’s too late for me to just stop, even if I wanted to. It’s all I’ve known.”

You’re frozen in place, the weight of his words hitting you harder than anything else. He loves you. It’s the last thing you expected to hear, the last thing you thought you’d ever get from Dean, especially now. But somehow, despite the chaos of it all, you feel your heart calm, just a little. Because the truth is, you really do love him. Despite everything.

You close your eyes for a moment, your mind racing with the enormity of what he’s just confessed. You want to scream, you want to run away and pretend none of this ever happened, but you can’t. You’re not that person. You can’t walk away from him, not now, not after everything you’ve felt for him.

You take a deep breath, forcing the words out, even as they feel foreign and strange in your mouth. “I... I don’t understand this. I don’t get it. But I do get you, Dean. I know who you are, even if I don’t know everything about your life.” You pause, letting the silence hang between you, both of you drowning in the weight of the moment.

And then, almost in defiance of the terror bubbling up inside you, you take a step forward. “I’m scared, Dean. I don’t know what this means for us. But I don’t want to lose you.”

Dean’s eyes flicker, relief and gratitude flooding his face. Slowly, carefully, he reaches out and takes your hand in his. “You won’t lose me,” he promises, his voice barely above a whisper, but the conviction in it is enough to make your heart steady, even if just for a second.

You reach up and press your lips to his, the simple action bringing you the sense of comfort and relief you both needed after such a heavy moment. Dean responds in kind, his hands firm and strong as he holds you close, his kiss soft yet purposeful, charged with an unspoken understanding of what kind of life you were agreeing to embark on. 

There’s so much left unsaid, so much you’re both struggling to understand. But for now, in this small, broken room filled with the weight of the truth, you both know one thing: neither of you is ready to let go just yet.

As you both part, Dean exhales a long, tired breath. His grip on your hips tightens slightly, and in that simple gesture, you can feel the conflict in him, the rawness of everything he's kept buried for so long. And yet, as much as he's terrified of the future, of what this could mean for both of you, there's something almost peaceful in his presence now, as if admitting the truth has, for just a moment, allowed him to let go of the weight he’s been carrying.

“I don’t want to drag you into my mess,” he says quietly, his voice rough. “I don’t know what’s going to happen next. But I want you to know, I’ll do whatever it takes to keep you safe. Whatever it costs.”

You look at him, really look at him, seeing all the layers that lie underneath the bravado, the smirks, and the jokes. The broken man who’s been carrying this burden alone for too long. Your heart aches for him, for everything he's had to endure. And as much as the idea of what he does terrifies you, as much as the danger and uncertainty swirl around the edges of your thoughts, there’s still a part of you that feels steady.

You take a deep breath, your thumb gently rubbing the back of his hand. “I’m scared too, Dean. But I won’t walk away from you. Not because of this. But you’re right, we need to figure out what this means. All of it.”

His gaze softens, the hardness in his face fading just a little. “You don’t have to be a part of this. You don’t have to be involved.”

You shake your head, smiling gently. “I don’t know what the future holds, Dean. But if there’s one thing I do know, it’s that I don’t want to face it without you. Not if you’ll let me.”

The silence stretches between you, but it’s not suffocating anymore. It’s not filled with uncertainty or confusion. It’s a quiet understanding, the kind you only get after sharing something raw and unfiltered. He studies you for a long time, his expression softening, before he finally nods. There’s something fragile in that nod, something unspoken that passes between you.

“I didn’t think you’d say that,” he admits, his voice almost a whisper, like he’s afraid saying it out loud might shatter something delicate. “But I’m glad you did.”

You cup his face softly in both of your hands, a simple gesture that means everything right now. “We’ll figure it out,” you say softly. “Together.”

Dean lets out a breath, like he’s been holding it for a lifetime, and for a moment, the tension in his shoulders loosens. The truth may have ripped through the air, but it’s not the end. It’s only the beginning.

AN: Hi all, I'm baaaack lol. This purely came out of the gif above and took on a mind of it's own 😅 what originally started as a jealousy fic turned into a; show some young Dean love fic 😂 I guess this can be perceived as a more positive outcome of him confessing his true life to someone he loves. I hope you guys enjoy ☺️

[mochimochimona]

Why Jayce and Viktor are romantically in love but only at the end (sadly) and their relationship is the ultimate form of unconditionally love there is.

I finished Arcane and was really interested in the debate wether Jayce and Viktor are romantically in love or not, platonic relationship this and that and I will spit my thoughts into the void of tumblr, because I had to get that out. It's long, not gonna lie.

I think Arcane is ultimately about the human evolution on an emotionally level, to break the circle of hate, war and vengeance with sacrifice and forgiveness and a love born out of friendship and kinship.

That's why they took Jayce and Viktors relationship as one of the main storylines and what had driven the story forward most at the end - because their relationship was the one with the most destructive energy.

I think Jayce was only friends with Viktor at first. Viktor loved him on a deeper level earlier on, as implied through the dialogue with Siege. "Love and legacy" -"Jayce will understand". For him, Jayce is both. Their legacy of Hextech but also his love for him. You can argue that siege didn't imply romantic love but I don't think he was talking about that kind of love.

Arcane is about love and hate, as Viktor states when he gets killed first, that's the human notion and why he wants to get rid of his humanity, because he wasn't loved for a long time, he was weak, frowned upon and an outcast. I guess that's why he helped Jayce with the Hextech in the first place, a small parallel between them. And of course he is a big nerd lol but he saw that Jayce had a vision, wanted to make the world a better place (as Viktor) and help Pilotover and Zaun.

Jayce realization he was taking the wrong priorities after he found out Viktor will die. You can see the change happening in Jayce, but its really slow, with everything going on. When Viktor was dying because of Jinx's attack, he panicked, rushed and ignored the promise he made Viktor and used the hex core.

And here is the thing: his relationship with Mel changes, too. It's subtle because it's never made topic or center, but I think they were never really in love love (I get to that later). Mel was using Jayce at first but I do think she started to care about Jayce and it is argued that she may have been the mirror of Viktor. But even that aside, she tried to help Jayce and felt guilty, for using him and Viktor. But she never put him first as a person, but his ideas and usefulness and I think their relationship is not a healthy one. I think Jayce craved assurance, someone steadying him, loving him in some way. He would have had that in Viktor, but that would have crossed a line in their friendship, wouldn't it. I think the animators chose to show us Viktor falling apart while Jayce had sexy time with Mel on purpose. It's as tragic as it gets. And no, I don't hate Mel, she is Queen.

And I do think at that time, what Jayce felt for Viktor was a deep friendship. I won't call it bromance or brotherly love. Bromance for me is a made up word to avoid giving in to the possibility that two men can grow to love each other over a friendship, so to not be gay because that's disgusting, people rather call it bromance. And a brotherly love, is for me, just between real brothers. As in a family context. Adoptive or blood related, but there has to be that context. Because I think, again, that is just said to one: diminish a deep and routed friendship between man (which can't be, how could "strangers be vulnerable with each other") and b) to avoid the possibility, because to love a brother any other way as brotherly, would be incest so we will avoid that route in calling them brothers. It's a nice trope to use, really (that was sarcasm) and I am tired of it. We never, EVER said Vi had sisterly feelings for Caitlyn (even before they flirted really), or that Sevika had sisterly feelings for Jinx, because they were friends and comrades at the end, not sisters. We don't call female friendship sismance, if there is romance between two women we call it that: romance. We only have this weird wording when it comes to men's relationships and I think this homophobic notion runs deep and we don't do that to female romance because it's fetishized :D. I do think that's why people who are generally more open don't bat an eye about that. Because they are not afraid of their feelings and don't need to put the possibility aside they could be attracted to their same gender. Anyway.

Note that there can be romance without having sex, lovers as well and friendships with sex involved. I think we should get out of this thinking you need sex to prove you love someone, which is why I think Jayce and Viktor had the most perfect romance, romance arc and development. Because they didn't need to have kisses and sex to get that point across.

I think the usage of a butterfly is for evolution but on an emotional level and of course the famous butterfly effect. They found each other in every timeline, they literally can't live without each other and they always could have chosen not to chase after another. If Viktor had let Jayce die at the beginning, nothing would have happened. If Jayce had kept his promise and let Viktor die, nothing would have happened. He made the herald because he wasn't there for Viktor and made Viktor find love and acceptance with his followers. As partners. He realized that way too late and when Viktor told him, only Jayce could have shown him that, I think Jayce started to get it. When he saw Mel again, he knew now that she used him first (as her reaction of hurt indicating, she did like him though) and he was protective of himself AND Viktor. He was fighting Viktor and realizing that Viktor had died and that it was his fault. He was in mourning. He wanted to stop the Viktor he had created. Also he had promised.

Before that he had go through falling down and hurting his leg to climb upto the tower in the future and re-live what it was like for Viktor to grow up handicapped. To fight to get above. To get to be loved and to be seen. Jayce did know it wasn't easy I don't think he was a rich kid, just middle class, that's why they connected first, I guess. Two brilliant people held back because they aren't rich and from a "good background" as those on top. Not loved enough by the people around you. And the love of jayces mother was not enough!

What I found interesting was the fact that he saw Mel first and Viktor last. You know, if you deeply love someone in a romantic way, you always think about that person. You want to get to them as soon as possible, knowing to be away from them hurts. You want to spend time with them and go above and beyond to make them happy, see you and acknowledge you. Jayce saw Mel first, because he thought it was her, but it ultimately changes to Viktor because he is the one who motivates Jayce. Who keeps him going, who he wants to impress and show that their dream can become reality.

I think at that point it was for me that I was: okay that's not friendship anymore. That's romantic love. If you ever had a really best friend, a bff who you spend a lot of time with. You feel friendship and in that relationship the love of friends. But than you find that person who blows you away, who is everything to you, you might spend more time with them. How frustrated are we as friends to be not able to spend our time as we used to be. That's what Viktor felt but also jealousy, because he could never compete with Mel. He knew he had no chance because he thought Jayce loved her. And as a good friend, he didn't argue, because again that would destroy their friendship. Which is important. And I do think no one will put their friendship above romantic love. If they are really in love because they know their friends will understand. That's why I think it was so important of jayce to get that realization he made a mistake and should have been at Viktors side and that's why he thought, when ekko and Heimerdinger sneaked into the lab it was Viktor.

And if he realized than that he loved Viktor, he would have gone after him and proved viktor wrong and would have been able to stop this pursuit of Viktor to get rid of his human emotion/humanity.

But after Jayces climb to the top, speaking with Viktor, he finally realized that he was the only one to stop Viktor, to get it through. He was his friend, but he also loved him.

That's why he reacted that way to Mel, with no love left for her. That's why he knew when Viktor died and was resurrected by the Hextech he should have been at Viktors side, it dawned on him. If he truly loved Mel, he wouldn't have said it that way honestly. The same goes for his speech when he was with Viktor at the end, that Viktor wasnt weak. He knew Viktors whole motivation for removing everything was because he thought was weak and no one loved him for that.

And honestly, I only think that Jayce realized he felt more as friendship, really realized what it was when Viktor looked up to him and he saw in Viktors eyes that his Viktor was back. And when they used the rune he clenched his teeth because he was afraid. Afraid about what will happen next, afraid of dying but I guess afraid of losing Viktor all over again, clasping at the nape of his neck. And not be able to say what he felt. I don't think they felt each other's feelings that much, because ultimately what Viktor did was killing everyone's feelings in acending them.

And why do I think you can't compare, for example, aragorns friendship and love with Jayce. Aragorn loves all of his friends and is gentle with them, when boromir dies for example, but also with Frodo and Legolas or Gandalf. He shows affection in that way to a lot of people.

Jayce only really shows that to Viktor, always Viktor. And I think they did that on purpose. If they wanted to let it be just friends (I don't use platonic either as I think you diminish the love of friends with using platonic), they would have made Jayce care more about the others. He could have argued with Jayce about saving the others and so on, but he always wanted to save Viktor the most. And he is not the hero/king type like aragorn, I know.

But the motivation for Jayce and for viktor, was always each other and that's why I think they are, ultimately, romantically in love with each other, just realizing it way too late and that is the evolution, the perfect one. Loving each other with flaws, forgiving each other for what they have done and sacrificing themselfs to save each other and to save, at the end, the world. It's selfish. But it shows that love can travel time and space, if we would just stop hating and avanging each other. It would make the suffering of the world end and that would be the ultimate form of human evolution. Being easily able to forgive, sacrifice and love without hate. With accepting each other the was they are.

You may argue that you can do that as friends too but again, I think the people behind would have written it differently. I always think that before an action, there is a thought about it, how and why you are doing something the way you do and the fact that they chose to do it that way is an indicator for me, that they wanted them to be canon and in love. At the end. Not in between, that would have probably stopped everything from the start. Imagine, you can tell a friend you want to stay by his side, always, but I do think you would rather and mostly do it for the one you TRULY LOVE.

So in my mind, Jayce and Viktors development and love for each other at the end is the ultimate form of love and so romantic, it physically hurt.

[oliversrarebooks]

The Rare Bookseller Part 80: Oliver's Impossible Dilemma

Previous > Masterlist

tw: mind control, mental invasion, forced drugging, hallucination, murder

October 1925

The two returned to the house, and Oliver was more than happy to accept the chores Vivian assigned to him, glad to have anything to do to take his mind off of the situation and his conflicting feelings. But as the sun sank lower in the sky, his anxiety grew. Night would soon fall, and his master might be calling out to him once again, and the thought of that soothing, enticing voice made his heart clench. In the light of day, among ordinary people, it was easier to tell himself that Vivian killing Alexander was the morally correct thing to do and that he had no desire to return. Easy to say, perhaps, when Vivian would be the one carrying out the awful deed and there might not be anything Oliver could do or say to dissuade her.

But the more he thought, the more the gentle face and voice and hands came into his mind. Surely there must be another way. Surely Alexander could be reasoned with, even if Vivian wouldn't consider it. If he took Oliver back, then Alexander wouldn't be a danger to any other humans. It would cost him his freedom, but spare him the guilt. He had to try.

After dinner, Vivian approached Oliver with a small vial of a clear liquid. "Sleeping draught," she said. "So you can rest without vampires having their way with your mind."

Oliver took it and stared at it. He understood why it was probably a good idea for him to be knocked out, and yet, the thought of being incapacitated again filled him with fear. "Are you going to… hunt him? Alexander. Are you going to do that tonight?"

"I'm not sure I have much of a choice," she said. "If I don't hunt him, he'll be hunting me. I'm not going to be leaving right away, though, because I have some preparations to do." Vivian cocked an eyebrow. "Are you worried about me or about him?"

"To be perfectly honest, both." He swallowed the lump in his throat, knowing that he had to do something. "Do you really, truly need to kill him? I'm sure he can be reasoned with."

Vivian sighed. "You can't reason with a vampire with a hypnotic voice, Oliver. Every moment I listen to him is a moment he'll be trying to put me under his spell, and I will not let that happen."

"But there has to be some other way!"

"There isn't. It's not like I can simply leave him be, either. Since I took you from him, he'll be hunting me no matter what. It's him or me, and I'm sorry, but you know which one I'm going to pick."

"Then what if you returned me to him?" said Oliver desperately. "He wouldn't take any other humans if he had me back. He'd be harmless."

"Absolutely out of the question. I'm not turning over a human to placate a vampire." She crossed her arms sternly. "Besides, what would become of you when Alexander's sire comes around again?"

"Alexander needs a hunter to help kill his sire. He told me that himself. I know last night you said you couldn't trust him, but if you returned me first, he might be willing to work with you…"

"I still couldn't trust him," said Vivian. "You have to understand that there's nothing I could give him or do for him that would make me safe. I'm a hunter. Even if I agreed to spare Alexander, I'm not going to stop killing other vampires. He would never just let me go free -- not to mention what a high price I'd likely fetch on the auction block, with my witch's blood."

"Maybe I could convince him to leave you alone."

"Maybe he could hypnotize you out of your opinions in five seconds flat."

It was true. As much as he didn't want it to be, it was true. Alexander had proven himself than happy to erase any disagreement from Oliver's head. And of course he couldn't let Vivian go free, not when she was also after Lily. Turning her over to Lily to be mesmerized would be the easiest way to deal with her -- he thought of Lily's parlor, of the poor man on his hands and knees being dragged off to receive obedience training. Alexander thought nothing of it. He would think nothing of sending Vivian to the same fate, either.

It was a truly impossible choice. Either Alexander would die, or Vivian would be ensorcelled forever, a slave to the vampires she'd fought. He couldn't accept it.

"Look, I understand," she said, drawing nearer and holding up the vial. "Your master's grip on you was incredibly tight. You're not in your right mind yet. You'll feel much better once my work is finished. I think you should drink the sleeping draught and have a good night's --"

"No," he said stubbornly. "I won't." He wasn't sure what was causing him to fight more vigorously for Alexander's life than for his own freedom. Whether it was his true feelings or residuals from Alexander's powers, he knew that he couldn't live with himself if he just allowed him to die. "At least let me come with you and talk to him."

"Unfortunately, I don't have time for this. I have to prepare." In a flash, Vivian had him pinned against the wall. She was much stronger than Oliver, and as he flailed and tried to get free, she splashed some of the potion on his face, making him woozy from the fumes. Weakened, he couldn't stop her from forcing his mouth open and pouring the noxious potion inside. His tongue turned numb as he tried to keep from swallowing it, and it trickled down his throat as he struggled.

"I'm sorry I have to do this, I really am, but it's for your own good," she said, as Oliver's limbs went limp and his eyelids fluttered. His vision tunneled, everything going dark as she picked him up and carried him into the small room at the top of the stairs, laying him on the cot.

"Please," Oliver pleaded. "Please don't."

"It's for the best. I hope you understand that someday," said Vivian. She left Oliver there and locked the door behind her.

He was trapped once again, just as he was trapped in the auction house, just as he was trapped in Alexander's manor. The remnants of the sleeping draught in his mouth were sickly-sweet with an aftertaste like gasoline. He fought his heavy eyelids, trying to stay awake just a little bit longer. Maybe there was something he could do. Maybe he could warn Alexander somehow. But he probably didn't need it -- he must already expect that Vivian would be coming for him. He might be looking for Oliver right now.

If only all of this had been a dream. If only he could wake up from this enchanted sleep to find himself back in his bookshop, with a wholly fictional volume about vampires resting on his lap. If only Alexander were just an ordinary man with pale skin and a taste for rare books. If only his captivity and sale were something he'd dreamed up after reading a few too many outlandish tales of strange rituals.

Just as his last bit of consciousness faded away, he thought he heard Alexander's voice. It was still sad, but there was something else, now. Fear. Panic. And a warning, an urgent one. He briefly struggled against the potion pulling him under to try to understand what Alexander was trying to convey, but it was impossible to resist the magic flowing through his veins. Alexander's warning slipped away from him, turning into a sense of deep unease as he began to drowse.

It didn't take long for his distress to turn into vivid nightmares. He could see Alexander on his knees at Vivian's feet, begging for his life, turning to Oliver for help. Oliver could do nothing as the vampire's body turned to dust around the silvered stake, his voice fading into the night to never be heard again. He saw the library in flames, countless priceless books burning, and Oliver was trapped under the ceiling as it fell, destined to perish here as a cosmic punishment for having betrayed Alexander.

He woke up hyperventilating, not in the library, but in the cot at Vivian's safe house. It was utterly quiet and so dark, even though the moon out of the window was unnaturally enormous. The stillness was only broken by the distant, rhythmic ticking of a clock, muffled and far away, but somehow getting closer by the minute. Some part of him understood that something terrible had happened here, that it was his fault, and that he needed to go see for himself what had happened.

The door to his room swung open slowly, revealing only more pitch blackness. As if under a compulsion, Oliver stood and felt his way to the door, tripping over something cold and heavy.

Gas lamps all around him blazed to life, and Oliver saw that the thing he had tripped over was Emily's bloodied corpse.

He screamed, and practically launched himself down the stairs in a blind panic, shouting for Vivian and receiving no response. He felt as though the walls were warping and bending, as though the safe house was a million miles long one minute and suffocatingly small the next. And the dreadful ticking of the clock echoed throughout.

The gas lamps flickered and sputtered and went out all at once, plunging Oliver into true darkness, and he was paralyzed by fear. Then, just as abruptly as they had extinguished, they all roared to life with unnaturally large flames, illuminating the figure standing before Oliver. Vivian, with the same cold, hard look in her eyes that she had when confronting Alexander. She was advancing on Oliver with silver knife raised.

"What are you doing?" he yelled as he backed into the wall.

"I have to do this," she said in a dull voice. "It's for your own good. You'll be free."

"No! No, don't!" He raised his hands to catch her arm, but she easily shoved him away and pushed him to the floor. Just as the knife plunged into his gut…

He awoke once again in the cot.

It was a nightmare, only a nightmare. But it felt so terrifyingly real, and his thoughts were so muddled and hazy from the sleeping draught. Adrenaline surged through him even as the enchantment fought to pull him back down into sleep, the world around him a confused and bleary haze.

And worst of all, he could still hear the dreadful tick, tick, tick of the clock -- no, it was more like a metronome, echoing through him. Was it real, or was he still in a nightmare? It was impossible to tell.

She will kill you.

"No!" he said out loud. That voice… it wasn't Alexander's. No, it was a voice he would recognize anywhere, its musical tone at odds with its cruelty. It was Alexander's sire. He was in Oliver's mind.

She will kill you. You must kill her first.

"No, I won't!" He curled up onto the cot, shaking. Alexander's sire knew that he'd been captured, perhaps even knew where he was. He wasn't safe. None of them were safe, as long as Oliver was here. He had to go. He stood up on shaky, weak legs, still very much under the influence of the sedative, barely able to stand upright and drag himself to the door. Clumsy hands tried to work the doorknob, failing to turn it several times, and when he finally was able to get a solid grasp on it, the door didn't open. He dimly remembered that it had been locked.

She will kill you.

The lock clicked. "Oliver, are you all right? I heard shouting," said Vivian on the other side of the door.

"No, go away! Don't come near me!"

The door opened anyway, and Vivian was advancing on him, just like in the nightmare. "Oliver, what's going on? How are you even awake? Is that vampire in your mind again?" She didn't have a knife in her hand, but it was attached to her belt in a scabbard, ready to use. She was coming closer, just like before.

"Get away!" said Oliver, pushing her and running out the door on uncoordinated legs. "I have to -- I have to go now!"

"Oliver, stop! You don't know what you're doing!"

She grabbed his wrist, and he yelped and twisted it away. Nightmare and reality were mixed and blurred in his mind, and all he knew was that he had to escape. He wrenched his wrist away from her, took a few fumbling steps, and then his foot hit air instead of the floor.

"Oliver!" Vivian screamed. It sounded like it was coming from far away. He was falling, looking up at the ceiling one moment and at the stairs the next. His head hit something hard and sharp and his vision went black for a second as he heard a sickening noise.

When he opened his eyes, he was laying face down on the floor. The wood floor was cold against his cheek. He couldn't move. There was something wrong with his leg, something terribly wrong. It felt as though it were bent in a way it shouldn't be. Someone was yelling his name. The clock was ticking. He just wanted to close his eyes and go back to sleep.

It must just be a nightmare.

Previous > Masterlist

Oliver is not fine.

Next week, Lex and Fitz and the Maestro's punishments.

Thanks for reading!

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[silvercap]

I love giving our boy a fever, so 2 and Leon for the hurt/comfort dialogue prompt please! (Maybe with Chris as the one saying it to him?) <3

Sure!! <3

2. "You're burning up."

Leon's been grumpy ever since he arrived, sitting sullenly in his seat on the BSAA infiltration chopper, arms crossed and legs spread to exude an air of arrogant disdain that Chris can tell is getting to some of the younger men. They're not unused to rough superiors, most of them having come from the army, but to see the great Leon Kennedy glaring at them like they're bags of garbage---well, it's not great for morale. Chris takes an opportunity to sidle closer once he's done inspecting his rifle, settling a seat away.

"Everything okay?" he asks in an undertone, doing his best to disguise his worry. He's shocked when Leon responds violently with a harsh, hateful glare.

"Fuck off, Redfield," he spits, clearly not okay. His blue eyes are sharp, but slightly glazed, like he'd almost fallen asleep while staring daggers at Chris's recruits. "I'm fine."

"Doesn't look fine," Chris tries, only to lift his hands when Leon scowls in aggravation. "Okay, okay! You know yourself better than I do, man. It's just---you're scaring the newbies with all that Kennedy attitude, y'know?"

He does his best to inject some lightness into his tone, but Leon's expression sours even further, if that were possible. "I told you, it's nothing. Just back off, alright? I could do without the mother hen-ing, today."

Chris falls silent as the chopper begins its descent into the landing zone, sneaking glances at the profile of Leon's face as the man settles back into an irritated pose. His skin is strangely shiny with sweat, Chris notes, the small hairs at the back of his neck slicked together into thick, damp strands. It's nowhere near hot enough to make him that warm, not even with the jacket Leon has clutched around him.

It's when he lurches to his feet as the chopper lands that Chris gets really concerned, Leon's knees buckling almost immediately. He sways for a moment as Chris launches himself upright, then collapses directly into Chris's waiting arms with perfect timing. One of the men gasps as Chris pulls him close and presses a hand to his glistening forehead, tutting when feverish heat meets his palm.

"You're burning up," he says incredulously, refusing to let go of Leon when he squirms weakly. He looks so dazed that Chris isn't sure how he missed all the signs, the bags under his eyes even darker than usual against his pale skin. "Is that what this is about? Why the hell would you come on an op if you're sick?"

" 'm not sick," Leon pouts, pushing at his arms, and Chris understands in an instant. What a stubborn, mulish man his best friend can be. He sighs, guiding Leon back into his seat. The fact that he doesn't fight it tells Chris all he needs to know.

"Don't you dare move," he orders, meeting one of his soldiers' gazes in the corner of his eye and gesturing them over. Leon lets his eyes fall shut and leans his head back against the metal wall, face twisted---but not in anger, Chris realizes. That's a frustrated look of pain. "You are way too warm to be in a battle zone, and you don't look well at all. What hurts?"

"Nothing," Leon crabs.

"Sir?" the young woman Chris had summoned asks, now at his side. She glances nervously between Leon and Chris a few times, ponytail swishing.

"Jenny here will take a look at you," Chris says, rising to his full height. Leon cracks open a baleful eye, groaning. "Now, you can either tell her what's wrong so she can make sure you're alright, or I can take us all home to admit you to the BSAA medical wing. Which would you prefer?"

"You fucking liar. You wouldn't."

"I might." Chris bites back the smile prying at his lips, holding his stony gaze until Leon finally sighs and relents. "You should be at home, resting."

"It's just a headache," Leon insists, but Chris has already won.

"Well, then, I'm sure you won't mind if Jenny gets you something for that while we finish the mission." If he's guessed right, then Leon's too exhausted to even try to slip away, meaning he'll be safe where a medic can look him over and make sure he isn't boiling his brains out being an idiot. The confusion in his gaze had been palpable when Chris had caught him, and he needs to be in bed with a cool compress and some soup. Chris can supply that later.

"No," Leon murmurs, finally giving in. He must be feeling truly awful, and Chris is thankful he saw the signs in time. "I won't."