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literaila · 1 year

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verity what would you think about writing another peter x reader in which peter becomes a photographer and has to take pictures of reader and he develops a thing for her and he thinks that reader just flirts with him for fun and he's totally okay with that because he's a fool for her but after teasing peter and messing with him for a good amount of time she asks him out ? maybe inspired by "suck it and see" by arctic monkeys? thank you !!

chemistry

tasm!peter x fem!reader

a/n: the science jokes are real with this one

peter needed to get over himself. that much was clear.

honestly, he had the ability to rip out his eyes and throw them down the garbage disposal, and it was becoming increasingly obvious that he might have to. just to get some sanity back.

it wasn’t really his fault he was staring at you. no, it wasn’t his fault at all.

he was getting paid to stare at you. you had hired him to do this. to take pictures of you when you looked like this—partially glowing from the light, wearing a devious smile like you might be trying to crack his lens—and not get called a pervert for it.

his movements were automatic now. he’d done this enough—admired strangers and tried to pull the best out of them—but it was never quite like this. with every click of a button, and the perfectly adjusted flash, peter felt himself getting a bit hazy.

it would be his luck to faint while taking pictures of a pretty girl.

a pretty girl who’s head was tilted at him, eyes questioning, because she’d just said something and he was too busy scolding himself to notice

get yourself together.

“hmm?” peter asked, moving a step closer to you. “sorry i missed it.”

you smile like he’s said something funny. “should i try something else?” you say, “i’m not used to posing.”

“you’re doing great. you’re a natural.”

maybe a little too great. you blink at him, eyes darting away and sigh. even then, if peter took a photo, he’s sure it would come out perfectly. he probably wouldn’t need to edit any of these, even.

but he also probably would. just to stare at you some more.

“well, you’re the expert.”

but peter frowns. “are you feeling uncomfortable?”

“just—“ you shake your head. “will you tell me a joke, or something? i feel… awkward. i have no idea what i’m doing.”

“tell you a joke?” peter repeats, slightly amused.

“or just talk to me. anything.”

“sure,” he says, easily, nodding his head a bit too much. maybe it’s because you sort of whispered it, and peter sort of felt it on every single on of his nerve endings. “i, um,” he raises his brows. “i think i just forgot every joke i’ve ever heard.”

you laugh with your head tilted back and he snaps a shot. “just tell me about you, then.”

“me?”

“yes, peter parker, the photographer… and? part time comedian? full time alcoholic? father of six?”

peter frowns. “how old do you think i am?“

“old enough to be a professional photographer.”

“i don’t know if i would call myself a professional…” he winces, smiling a bit and feeling embarrassed for himself. flushed and completely ashamed because he’s usually better at this.

he can calm a clients nerves in five minutes. he can make people laugh and get the candid shot that he knows they’re looking for. he can turn an awkward social interaction into getting drinks after a shoot.

but there’s something about you and your smile, and the easy way you talk, like the words just fall out of your mouth and into place.

“i saw your prints,” you correct, shaking your head at him, “why do you think i hired you?”

“free eye candy?”

and then you actually laugh, chest releasing, and peter watches as your eyes squint at him like you’ve finally realized who you’re talking to.

it’s second nature when he presses the button.

“oh, yeah. i just googled ‘hottest male photographer in queens’ and yours was the first that came up.”

“i knew that ad would pay off eventually.”

“really, though. i’ve only got you for another twenty minutes so you’ve gotta tell me something good.”

peter frowns and moves to your left, changing the zoom on his camera and dimming the light. “i didn’t know you were paying for a gossip session.”

“okay, so you don’t like to talk about yourself. what else?”

he catches you as you adjust your hair, the light shining on the side of your face, gleaming off of you like something out of a sci-fi film.

peter shakes his head—his head is feeling a bit off. “um… i want to get a cat.”

you smile, completely darling and enough to knock a breath out of his chest. “i’ll add caring to the list. why haven’t you?”

“well, my apartment doesn’t really allow it…” he pauses for a moment playing with some settings. the two of you are dancing in circles, like a pendulum, when you move, he moves. “and also i’m not sure that i’d remember to feed it.”

“most animals make sure you remember. when i was a kid my dog would jump on whoever was closest when it was time for dinner.”

peter almost winces, and then catches himself. “i also think i’d poison it with my energy. it’d forget how to move its tail.”

“well, i’ve been around you for almost an hour and a half now and i can safely say that i still have control over all of my limbs.”

“good to know…” peter mutters while frowning at his screen. there’s nothing wrong with his camera, or with you, just with his hands. and his heart.

“everything okay?”

he shakes his head, then nods, clearing his throat. “yeah—yeah. i’m just messing with the settings.”

“are you getting anything good? useable?”

“they’re all good,” he says—to himself and out loud like a complete idiot. and then he looks up, awkwardly laughing. “like i said, you’re a natural.”

“even if you’re lying,” you tease, undeterred by his awkwardness, “i’m sure you’ll fix it all before i see.”

“i’m not lying, but yeah.”

when you smile, he smiles back.

“okay,” you say, moving. “what else? got any friends or family? any plans after this?”

“which question am i supposed to answer?”

“all of them, peter.”

he chuckles. “it’s mostly just me and my aunt. and a couple of long lost cousins. as for friends, i’ve kept in touch with some people from college. oh, and me and the john down the street who makes me a sandwich everyday are close.”

you lift your head, revealing the skin of your neck and jaw to peter. and a fetish he didn’t know he had. “and after this?”

“i’ll probably just go home and edit these, actually.”

“it’s friday.”

he shrugs. squinting at you before the next shot. he’s not even really looking.

“nothing fun?” you ask him. “surely you’ll be sick of my face after this.”

“that’d be hard.”

he watches a sheepish smile reveal itself on your face before it’s gone. you look away. “you’re young, peter. you should be having fun.”

“what are you doing after this?” peter asks, as a challenge.

your brows lift. “this seems like a line.”

he laughs. “not like that.”

you shrug and blink when the flash goes off. “i’ll figure out something. are there any good bars nearby?”

peter pauses, dropping his camera. “are we back to the alcoholic thing.”

“no,” you laugh, “we’re way past that. i just think that your flash is giving me a bit of an adrenaline rush. i could use a calm me down.”

“you okay?”

“i’m kidding, peter. keep going, you’re almost a free man.”

so he does.

you continue to prod him with personal questions, attacking him with your smile and your unsurprisingly sharp wit. you throw his words right back to him, and peter knows, in his deepest of thoughts, that he’s going to be hearing your voice later on.

that when he’s looking back on these pictures, he’s going to see a timeline of your allure, and of his own demise.

he’s already loving and dreading it.

he finishes up by making you laugh from your nose, loud and unprecedented, and so genuinely rewarding that peter has to refrain from clapping himself on the back.

you smile at him as you slip on your jacket, still talking to him, acting too smooth to be just polite.

peter also has to refrain himself from trying to shake your head as he walks you to the door. he tries not to stare any longer, knowing what kind of night he has in store.

“when should i be seeing the pictures?” you ask him, lingering when you finally get to the door.

“sometime next week. i’ll email you a preview with a few different editing styles that you can pick from and then i’ll finish the album.”

“email?”

he scoffs, opening the door for you. “i’ll have you know that not everyone is as young and hip as you. do you know how many grandparents want photos with their family?”

“it just doesn’t seem like you, peter. i’d thought you’d train a carrier pigeon.”

he shakes his head at you, trying to hide his smile.

“but, seriously, thank you so much,” you say to him, voice full and easy, and honest. he can feel your heart and smell your perfume. “i know i’m a lot. especially when i’m nervous.”

“i’m just glad you didn’t ask me about my social security number.”

you reflectively smack yourself on the forehead. “i knew i forgot something.”

peter laughs, letting you slip past him trying to avoid your touch. he doesn’t, and if benjamin franklin was there, he might’ve discovered a whole different type of electricity.

“i’ll talk to you soon,” peter says, and your close enough that it’s almost a whisper. “just let me know if there’s any issues with the pictures, or you have any questions. you’ve got my number.”

“i do.”

his body feels physically repelled from inside the studio, but he forces himself to take a step in anyway. “have a good weekend.”

“you too.”

and then you turn to go, and peter can’t help but stare. he hopes that the tint on the shop windows is enough to keep you from noticing.

but before he can close the door—and mind that it took him an outrageously stupid amount of time—you’re turning back around.

“wait, peter,” you say, voice breathless and jagged. like peters hands as they rush to push open the door again.

it’s embarrassing how quickly he manages to do it.

“yes?”

you smile, like you know exactly what he’s thinking. peter will have that smile branded into his brain.

“do you wanna come with me to get that drink?” you ask him, softly, and wide, with a smile that bursts blood vessels.

peter really needs to get over himself.

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angelbaby-fics · 1 year

Text

Safe Haven

Pairing: CG!Steve Harrington x Little!Reader

Word Count: 1.4k

A/N: my first stevie h. fic!! my wonderful ♡ anon inspired me not just to write for him but also to rewatch season 3 which i forgot how much i loved 💕 i wanna start writing for robin because even the little bit that she appears here was so fun to write tbh!! warning for an almost swearword lol but other than that i hope its super fluffy and that you guys enjoy!!

You didn't mind the days that Steve worked. Most days, you called up Dustin and the gang, or Nancy, or Eddie, or you just stayed home by yourself and kept busy with any number of hobbies and activities. Today was different though; lightning ripped through the skies of Hawkins, rain spitting down so hard it nearly drowned out the cracks of thunder that interrupted your every thought. You could feel the anxious regression creeping up on you, and although you'd normally be fine being in little mode unattended in the safety of your home, but with the storm outside turning the daylight black, home didn't feel so safe anymore. Before you could get too little and before the storm could get too heavy, you were grabbing your bag and pulling on your heaviest hoodie, tucking the laces into the sides of your shoes to avoid the stress of tying them as you set out on your journey to Starcourt Mall.

Just the walk from your house to the covered bus stop had you soaked through to your shirt, and you shivered in the seat as the bus trundled down the slick streets towards the mall. You blinked your eyes, and repeatedly made fists and unfurled them, desperately trying anything to distract you from crying before you could make it to the back rooms of Scoops Ahoy. Normally you didn't like to bother Steve at work, no matter how many times he reassured you that you were always welcome there, but you felt this was rational option for you given the situation.

When the bus pulled up to the front of the mall, you lined up with the other passengers before sprinting the gap between the bus and the covered entrance. Once inside the dry safety of the indoors, your body mindlessly guided you to Scoops, the illuminated sign shining like the sun you needed so desperately today. Despite the weather being anything but summery, it seemed like everyone in Hawkins was getting ice cream this afternoon, and with your fear of being a bother far stronger than your need for comfort right now, you opted to sit at an unoccupied table in the front corner of the shop, furthest away from the counter.

Opening your backpack, you pulled out your notebook and a gel pen, hoping to distract yourself until the crowds died down. You could hardly keep your attention on the page for more than 15 seconds, flicking your eyes up to the counter and hoping to catch Steve's sooner rather than later. Your prayers were answered as he handed a double chocolate cone the next woman in line, his gaze scanning the remaining customers just as you'd popped your head up to check on him for the fiftieth time. His eyes got wide when he saw your distraught face silently pleading for his attention, and he intended to give you just that. Steve gave you a reassuring nod before holding a finger up to the next customer in line, and then disappeared into the back room. Moments later, he returned with Robin, who took over cash register duty while Steve circled around the counter and speed-walked over to you.

"Honey bun, you doing alright?" He asked softly, already recognizing your fragile state and not bothering with pleasantries as he slid into the booth next to you.

"Yeah," you nodded, "just wanted to see you, that's all."

"Are you sure? Is there anything I can do to help you?" Steve took one of your hands in his .

"No, its okay." You lied. "You can go back to work, I'm alright just sitting here."

Steve saw through you instantly. He knew exactly what you were feeling and exactly what you were needing now. He looked up at Robin, capably handling the next customers in line, and stood up with your hand still in his.

"Yeah, no, that's bull, come on baby." He started to tug at your hand.

Not wanting to argue, nor to be left without the warmth of Steve's grip, you gathered your things and stood up with him, letting yourself be led to the back room of Scoops Ahoy.

You'd never been back here before, and although you didn't really have any expectations to begin with, they certainly weren't exceeded. The employees only break area was bleak and grey, a single table in the center of the room, a big industrial sink, several humming freezers and fridges, and wiry metal shelves were the only things there; but it was quiet, and it was unoccupied. Steve brought you over to sit in at the table in a cold metal chair, digging through your bag and setting out all of your pens in a colorful array, and opened your notebook to a fresh page. Then, he went over to one of the fridges and pulled out a cold water bottle, as well as a bottle of apple juice, and he set them both on the table as well. Finally, he crouched next to you, taking your chin softly in his hand.

"I gotta go back to work now, okay baby? But I'll be back before you know it."

You nodded, and Steve continued speaking to you.

"We close at 8:00pm." Steve grabbed one of your gel pens and drew a little picture on the corner of the notebook page. "So when the clock looks like that, we can go back home and cuddle all night long. You can even help me lock up the shop if you want, how's that sound baby?"

"Okay dada," you whispered, and Steve pressed a soft kiss to the tip of your nose.

"That's my little bumblebee. I'll just be through that window right there if you need me for anything at all."

And with one more kiss, Steve was back to work. After a few more reassuring glances from him through the partition window, you finally felt at ease enough to start drawing in your notebook, now comfortable passing the time until Steve was off work. With the tension finally released from your anxious body, you lost yourself in your art, coloring little animals, stars and planets, flowers, bugs, and ice cream cones. Before you knew it, you heard Steve's voice call out to the customers still enjoying a late evening treat.

"Alright everybody, Scoops Ahoy is officially closed. You don't have to go home, but you can't stay here!"

Sure enough, the clock on the wall matched the picture Steve had drawn. Your attention was drawn to the door as Robin walked into the back room, grabbing her bag and a soda from the fridge.

"See ya, kiddo!" She said, flashing a peace sign at you as she went back out to the front of the store, waving to Steve as she exited. "Thanks for closing up."

Steve waved back as Robin mingled into the crowd of shoppers all on their own way back home, then turned to you.

"I just gotta clean up a few things before we go," he said, leaning through the window, "but before I do, may I take your order?"

You grinned widely before turning back to your notebook, scribbling out a drawing of your favorite ice cream flavor absolutely covered in toppings. You ripped out the page and handed it to Steve.

"Coming right up baby!"

You happily munched on your ice cream while Steve closed up boxes of toppings and stacked them on the shelves. When the back room was clean, he helped you put your pens away and carried your backpack and ice cream out to the front of the store so you could stay close to him while he wiped off each of the tables, mopped the floors, and closed out the cash register. Finally, Steve helped you throw away the trash from your ice cream, hoisted your backpack onto his shoulder, and held your hand as you slid out from the booth. You walked together to the front of the store, where Steve stopped and turned to you.

"Would you like to do the honors, honey bun?" He asked, motioning towards the big light switch that controlled the fancy neon sign in the entranceway.

You nodded, reaching up on your tiptoes to flip the switch, and suddenly the empty mall became a lot darker around you. Steve noticed you tense up and immediately, his hand was back in yours.

"Don't worry baby. I've got you. You're safe with me." He said, holding you tight as he led you to the garage, and not intending to let go of you for a very long time.

#steve harrington x little!reader #steve x little!reader #cg!steve #cg!steve harrington #cg!steve x little!reader #steve harrington #daddy!steve harrington #daddy!steve harrington x little reader #stranger things agere #chloe's fic

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abbyromanoff · 1 year

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Hi! I want to request Sugar mommy! Agatha x R

$TING

PAIRINGS: Agatha Harkness x reader

WORD COUNT: 2,970

WARNINGS: sugar mommy/sugar baby relationship, hook ups, punishment, praise, degrading, guided masturbation, mommy (A), pure smut, edging, orgasm denials, body writing, open relationship (kinda), jealousy, fingering, spit kink, clothed sex, voyeriusm, exhibition, small age kink, think that’s all :)

NO ONE IS PERMITTED TO STEAL, COPY, OR REBLOG MY WORK AS THEIR OWN!!

The sun blared through the large windows of your apartment as the expresso machine brewed your morning energy. There were a few dishes left in the sink that you forgot to attend to earlier on, along with clothes scattered all over the place. Not all of them were yours, they belonged to the woman that had decided to stay the night, much to your dismay.

You met her at a bar the night before and hit it off. You could still feel her wandering hands that left you on edge. It wasn’t exactly her fault, she did have good skills when it came to pleasure, but she wasn’t her. She wasn’t Agatha.

You wanted more than what you had with the older peer, but the two of you often made the excuse that you were too busy for a relationship. You were a full-time college student with a high GPA that you intended to keep, while Agatha was head CEO of a market-developing company. You didn’t really understand what she did, only that the money piling into her wallet, as a result, became yours quickly after.

“Good morning.” The woman, who you lacked the knowledge of her name, spoke. You whipped your head around, giving her a small, tight-lipped smile that she returned.

“How’d you sleep?” She stood behind you now, placing her arms on either side of your waist and resting her head on your shoulder. You tensed up when feeling her lips on your neck and her hands rubbing circular directions on your skin.

“Mm, pretty well. What about you?” It was clear she saw this as much more than a hook-up, and you weren’t ready to let down another person. You stepped away, trying to subtly address your thoughts.

“I slept fine, yeah.” She hummed in response and watched as you traveled over to the door where the clothes were ripped to shreds in the night of lust. You could nearly feel her gawking at your ass as you bent over, gathering the pieces in your hand and returning to your spot in front of her.

“Well, I have to head out soon so here, I believe these are yours.” It felt like hours before she left, writing down her number on a pad of paper and kissing you graciously at the door. She turned around after giving you a wink, bumping into an individual and sending a quick rush of apologies that were left unheard.

You gulped fearfully when they appeared at your doorstep, a small bag in hand as they glared down at you. She watched the woman leave while shooting you a glance, hoping to catch your eye.

“What are you doing here, Agatha?” You demanded. You tried to seem annoyed, yet you still left your door wide open for her to follow you. She chuckled at the use of her real name while removing the suit jacket she kept on.

“Hm, I thought we were past full-name basis by now, are we not?” You rolled your eyes, not the best choice. You knew she had nothing but vexation for brats, but that was the fun in it.

“Don’t roll your eyes at me, baby.” You were finally able to get a better glimpse at the item held in her right hand, it was a shopping bag, one of luxury. She wasn’t one to be seen in low-quality stores that you often found yourself a regular at.

“What’s in there?” She placed it on the counter which you stood next to, her body leaning against the fridge that she helped afford.

“Why don’t you see for yourself?” You let out an irritated sigh with no intent to show your hidden excitement. You loved when she bought you something new, it made you feel seen. She could spend her money on anyone or anything yet she decided to get you new gifts daily, that was how she showed her love.

“Well? Do you like it?” She surmised when catching the small gasp that escaped you. You had pulled out a purple lingerie set, her favorite color on you. It was a one-piece that left very little to the imagination.

“I love it! Thank you, thank you, thank you!” Your act seemed to have started its process of fading away as you surged yourself forward into her grasp. She kissed the top of your forehead that was situated on her chest as her fingers sifted through your hair softly.

“You’re very welcome, my dear. How about you try it on for Mommy, yeah? Give me a little show?” You nodded and waltzed into your room where you discarded the little amount of clothing left that clung to your body. You wanted it to be a surprise, which is why you forced the older lady to remain on the other side of the closed door.

“You almost done in there?” She was impatient and she didn’t care, she knew it spurred you on every time.

“Come in.” She quickly opened the entryway and the sight that greeted her was one to make anyone foam at the mouth. The lace fit you perfectly, showing every curve and mend to your body.

“Oh, sweetness…” She was at a loss for words when admiring your effortless beauty. There was no such thing as perfect, yet here you stood, your body on display as if you were a walking goddess. You stalked closer to her, placing your hands on her chest as you gazed up at her, innocence painting your eyes.

“You like it, Mommy?” She groaned deeply and lifted you by the backs of your thighs, letting your legs wrap around her waist and arms venturing to her shoulders. Your breasts were right in front of her face, and it took all of her not to press her lips against them.

“You look so beautiful. My beautiful little girl.” Your cheeks reddened at her praise as you were lowered onto the bed that sat beneath you. You expected a touch, a kiss, something more than just her watchful eyes.

“You know, I was going to come here today, give you your gift and touch you a little bit, make you cum as a reward for being so, so good. But when I got here, I found out someone else was touching my property. She was chasing your attention so badly, but you didn’t want her, did you?” You shook your head at her remark, nervously fiddling with your fingertips. She noticed, gripping your wrist tightly in her hand as her nostrils flared, her jaw clenching as you noticed a small vein on her forehead that looked as if it was going to pop.

“No, because you know you’re mine. Tell me, did she make you cum?” Another shake of your head was received. “Mm, I bet she didn’t. You can’t cum without Mommy’s help, how pathetic.” She faked a pout, cooing at you in a gentle manner that almost made you believe she felt bad. But there was no remorse, she wanted you to suffer.

“I’m sorry, Mommy…” You tested your luck, praying that’d she show you at least a small amount of mercy. Her hand finally let go of your wrist as it came up to cup your cheek, her thumb rubbing the skin softly in false comfort. There was a small part of you that expected it when she drew back, only to slap the same area she had just been touching.

Tears brink at your eyelids from the harsh contact before she was gripping your chin and forcing your lips to part. She leaned down, almost convincing you that she was going to kiss you with passion like usual. But instead, you felt a wad of spit fall onto your tongue. It nearly made you moan with how dirty she was making you feel.

“Don’t swallow until I say so, baby.” She directed, knowing she was able to boss you around however she pleased and you’d always obey.

“That’s a good little slut.” The feeling of her saliva going down your throat was one you never imagined. It felt magical, and the noises you let out were pornographic. Of course, you did it all with permission when she finally granted you the chance to swallow.

“Please, Mommy-” Your pleas were cut short with another slap to your cheek, this one seeming to pain you even more than before.

“Did I say you could speak?” You were going to apologize, but her predatorial gaze stopped such words from releasing.

“Now shut the fuck up and listen to what Mommy has to say.” Her hair tickled your face as she leaned close to your ear, her voice coming in a low and hot whisper.

“Touch yourself, baby.”She guided your palm down your body where they stopped at the tops of your thigh. Your breath quickened the closer you got to your heat, your clit already throbbing under the confinement.

“Since you think anyone is allowed to touch this pussy, why don’t you add to the list, hm?” You squeezed your eyes shut in embarrassment as you were guided in pulling the panties to the side, gathering your slick on your fingers as you dragged them along your folds.

“Does it taste good?” She inquired when bringing your singular digit to your mouth where you subconsciously wrapped your lips around it. You nodded slowly, repeating your actions but this time letting her soak in your flavor. She had fucked you enough times to be able to memorize the taste of your sweet nectar, yet she could still never get enough. It was her fuel, her gas pedal.

“You think you can fuck yourself without my help? Or do you need Mommy to do everything for you?” Before you could gather a response, she was already answering for you.

“Well, you didn’t seem to need my help last night when you let that bimbo fuck what’s mine, I don’t see why you can’t do the same now.” You were ready to beg, but with one glare you were quickly shut up. She led the desk chair on the other side of your room over to where you sat, placing it right in front of you where she’d watch you as if you were the TV. One leg crossed over the other, her tie mindlessly being toyed with by her palm.

You knew this was your only option, she’d sit there all night and wait for you to move if you didn’t. The thought was what led you to continue your movements from earlier, this time without her guidance. You were only provided with her watchful eyes that were so easy to get lost in.

“No wonder no woman ever wanted you, you can’t even fuck yourself properly.” The derogatory remarks only led you to venture further, your neglected clit finally getting the attention it begged for as you rubbed small circles.

“M-mommy-” You whimpered, hips bucking into nothing while your arm struggled to hold you up. Your head was thrown back as you followed every move you recalled her creating while teasing your desperate and leaky cunt.

“Moan for me, sweetness. That’s it, such a dirty little girl.” She watched your face contort into pleasure the faster you went, your other hand teasing your breasts and pinching your nipples. You had already been edged by your denial from the night before and now it felt closer than ever.

First, you penetrated your hole with one digit, then a second, and then a third when it wasn’t enough. Nothing you did was sufficient, nothing flourished the bliss pleasure you felt when Agatha was the one creating it.

“Aww, is it not enough? But you’re already stretching yourself out so much, I wouldn’t want you to be in pain.” That was a lie. You knew she loved seeing you in any form of pain as long as she was the one inflicting it, your tears were what spurred her on the most. She adored seeing you cry out for her to stop, knowing you deep down were begging for more.

“No, Mommy, please, I can handle it.” You bit your lip, the words just barely being able to escape with broken-up moans.

“Only big girls can make their own decisions, and you’re far too little for that. Now, slow down, angel, wouldn’t want you getting too ahead of yourself.” You wanted to quicken your pace, but you feared the consequences too broadly. Sure, you were a grown adult, but you were just a sweet baby who needs protecting in her eyes. Anything she said goes, and if you didn’t follow that, there were lists of cruel punishments she’d choose from and not one of them was for your enjoyment, it was for hers.

“‘M sorry, I’m only yours, Mommy- ugh!” She hummed as you fought for her endorsement, yet she gave no indication of any. You were getting closer, your thrusts meeting halfway with your hips that had a mind of their own. You were merely brushing over that sweet spot inside of you that had your toes curling and free hand gripping the sheets. Your palm was rubbing against your clit every time you moved, everything was so overwhelming yet so divine.

“What are you- what are you doing?” You saw her stalking towards you with a sharpie in hand, she must’ve gotten it from the desk. Her knees hit the floor with a thud as she gripped your open thighs, spreading them even further apart. She didn’t tell you to stop, so you assumed that was your permission to continue.

“Mommy just wants to doll you up a bit more, alright?” You nodded without hesitation. You could always trust her, there was no doubt about that.

You could feel the tip of the sharpie pressing onto your skin, leaving lines of ink as she wrote. You didn’t know what she was spelling out, you even tried to follow the letters with your mind but found yourself unable to focus.

“Don’t move, wouldn’t want me to mess up this gorgeous body.” Your movements faltered for a moment as you knew you wouldn’t be able to hold back if they didn’t. She stopped, and with one look you knew exactly what she wished of you.

“But-”

“No but’s, baby, do as Mommy told you.” You insisted on instead torturing your clit once more, already missing the feeling of being full but wanting to please her as best you could. She didn’t tell you anything she wrote, nor did she utter a word until she stood.

“I can’t hold it anymore, feels too good.” You brainlessly shuddered. As badly as you wanted to cum, you wouldn’t be able to unless you had her permission, she completely ruined you for anyone else including you.

“Shh, let me take a photo. I’m sure my colleagues will love this.” She knew of your shared infatuation with some of her lower coworkers, and you were exceedingly surprised when she wasn’t enraged. In fact, it only brought more teasing your way, something you were forced to get used to with her.

“Oh, don’t you look adorable?” She spoke, staring at her phone that now held the lewd picture of you. She was already planning on sending them whether you liked it or not, it was just a matter of time before they’d struggle to look you in the eyes whenever you stopped by her office.

“Oh, shit! I’m gonna-”

“No, you’re not.” She was quick to demand, grabbing her purse from off the hair and settling her phone in her pocket.

“You won’t be cumming until I say so, got it?” It took you a moment too long before you mustered out a nod while tears streamed down your face. She was patient, though, and when you finally did so, she grinned happily.

“Good girl. I need to head into the office, I sent three hundred to your account, go neaten up and get yourself some food before I come back later.” She started to walk out the door to your bedroom while ignoring your whines of protest, only to stop mid-way and turn to face you once more.

“Oh, and if you cum, I’ll know.” Her eyes set place in the corner of a wall as a smirk took over her. You followed her eyesight, finding a blinking red dot that was situated on what looked to be a camera. Your eyes widened as you went to look back at her, only to see that she was gone.

You then took sight of the mirror that wasn’t so far from your bed. Standing on shaky legs, you walked over to stand in front of it, and that’s when you noticed all of the degrading words printed onto your skin.

‘Slut’, ‘Cum here’ with an arrow pointing to your weeping hole. ‘Breeding whore’, ‘Mommy’s toy’, and lastly, ‘A.H’s property’. You didn’t know how exactly you were to get these off, but you couldn’t deny the deep arousal it caused. The lingerie piece was kept on as she requested, and you truly felt as though you looked exemplary. There was no doubt in your mind that Agatha would be receiving many photos throughout the day, only fueling to the large fire that was your punishment.

Suddenly, you heard a ping from your phone that you left on the nightstand. You grabbed it quickly, expecting to see a text from the woman in mind but smiling smugly when seeing her coworker's contact appear. It was Wanda, one of the sweetest and seemingly wholesome people you’ve ever met.

‘Hey, just thought I’d let you know you looked absolutely stunning in that photo. Maybe you could stop by my house sometime so I can show you just how beautiful I think you are.’

#agatha harkness smut #agatha harkness #agatha harkness fluff #agatha harkness x reader #agatha harkness x reader smut #agatha harkness x reader fluff #agatha harkness x you #agatha harkness x female reader #Agatha Harkness x reader angst #Agatha Harkness angst #Agatha Harkness x reader fic #Agatha Harkness x female reader smut #Agatha Harkness x fem!reader #Agatha Harkness x fem!reader smut #Agatha Harkness x fem!reader angst #Agatha Harkness x fem!reader fluff #Agatha Harkness x female reader fluff #Agatha Harkness x female reader angst

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sobbingsapphic102 · 3 months

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Black Letter Day

Word count: 1155

A/N: I stole the title “Black Letter Day” from the Cardigans.

Mother Miranda x Reader

You sit on a brown roll-arm sofa and read a frustratingly descriptive book that you had been putting off for ages. It’s critically acclaimed and a “classic”, but why describe the pattern of the wallpaper for 5 pages? The fact you woke up later than usual and the weather being gloomy didn’t aid you in feeling good or energized.

You hear footsteps, creaking loudly and slowly, in your direction. You turn your head and see your father, holding an envelope. Hope fills your body, like water filling a glass, nearly overflowing. Could it be a letter from Miranda?

You left Romania to visit family at home, much to Miranda’s dismay, and have been staying with them for two weeks since. You hadn’t seen them for a few months. As a way to assuage their stress and worries, you came to visit. From the moment you had told her you were leaving, she had been cold, distant. You hoped this was a letter from her.

“Just checked the mailbox and there’s an envelope addressed to you. No return address on it though, do you want me to throw it away—“ He gets cut off by you jumping off the sofa and snatching it away from him, “—oh, okay.”

You smile sheepishly, “Sorry, but I think I know who it’s from.” You don’t waste a second ripping the envelope open. You pause, as your father is still in the room, and give him a pointed look. He exasperatedly sighs, and leaves. Without closing the door.

When you finally open the envelope, you’re met with a creased, and faintly yellowed piece of paper. Despite that, the quality is much better than the average printer paper you have. It’s thicker and textured. You run your fingers along the rough edges.

On the top right corner of the letter, is Miranda’s name, an unfamiliar address, and the date on which the letter was written. 6 days ago. You sit down before reading the scrawl, written using the black fountain pen she so loves.

To my dearest,

I have been thinking of you from the minute you left Romania. I should not have been so detached from you; I regret it deeply now. I have been waiting for a letter from you, but I now know it will not be received unless I apologize.

What have you been doing with your family? Hopefully, your time spent at home isn’t as pointless as mine here. No suitable vessels have been found. My false children are growing restless and bicker with each other relentlessly in our family meetings. Especially Heisenberg and Dimitrescu. Their arguments are migraine-inducing, to put it mildly. I know you would have enjoyed the banter. Everything else in the village is well.

Have you been reading the medical books I lent you? I expect you to have. You must understand I will not tolerate your antics and so-called “pranks” in the laboratory any longer. I need you as a competent assistant and not a distraction.

Overlooking that, your presence in the laboratory is missed. I now realize how much I have neglected you, my sweet, and when you soon arrive I will be sure to make it up to you.

I nearly forgot to ask you, how will you get back? It’s a treacherous path back here, you may want me to fetch you. Write soon.

Forever yours,

Miranda

After giggling like a schoolgirl, you realize you haven’t been reading up on the books she let you borrow and you have no idea how to get back. It was Miranda who had embraced you in her wings and mystically brought you to her home, and it was Miranda who brought you to the airport.

Also, how the hell are you meant to finish those books that weigh more than bricks on a mini vacation?!?

Ignoring the stress coiling inside of you, you re-read the parts where she wrote how she missed you and the part where she called you “my sweet”. She sounded so lovely in the letter, you thought. As much as you want to, you couldn’t make fun of Miranda. She’d never do anything this cute ever again!

You languidly walk to your desk to begin writing a letter. It’s wooden, and vintage, with large drawers on the left and right and thin drawers underneath the surface. After ransacking the room, you find an adequate piece of paper and an envelope to match. You pick up the nicest pen you have write your name along with the date on the top right corner to mirror what Miranda did, and begin the letter.

Dear Miranda,

Your apology is accepted.

My time at home has been great! I went shopping and to restaurants with my friends and family. I’m reading this boring book right now (because I’ve definitely finished reading the books you gave me). Wish you had written what Dimitrescu and Heisenberg said, it would’ve been a much more enjoyable read than whatever I’m currently reading.

I miss you lots as well. I even had a dream about you! Don’t make that dirty. We were hanging out on a playground from my elementary school. We just stayed on the swings though.

My transportation is a good point to bring up. Will you do that teleportation thing with me with your wings, from the airport? Please? (I’m 100% not saying this because I want a hug, no way.)

I’m coming back in 15 days, on a Saturday. I’ll pick a day flight because I hate sleeping in planes, I get so sick. It’ll be a long flight unfortunately, so I’ll take a plane at 8 am and be there around 6 pm. Is that alright? Pick me up then?

Lots of love,

Y/N

You skim over the letter, disregarding the contrast between your letters. Gingerly putting the paper in the envelope to avoid creases, you then seal the envelope off using a glue stick. You admire your handiwork for a brief moment. You grab the pen from earlier and write her first name and the unknown address she had provided. As you write, you remember the need for a stamp.

Back in Romania, the Duke would’ve had this covered! A jog to him would’ve gotten you the stamp and another two useless items that he’d goad you into buying.

After yelling for your dad to get you a stamp, you place it in the top right corner and give it to him.

“Seriously? You’re a grown-up now, go mail it yourself.” Your dad says.

“Please!” You plead, “I’m too tired to go, please please plea—“

“Okay fine!” He exclaims, before taking the letter from you and getting dressed to go to the post office.

“Thank you!” You call after him, but he doesn’t acknowledge it. With a shrug, you go back to your room and lay in bed, underneath a cozy blanket, eagerly anticipating a letter back.

#mother miranda #mother miranda x reader #resident evil village #resident evil #resident evil 8 #resident lover #fanfic #ao3

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cakesunflower · 6 months

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lovelorn (and nobody knows) [rafe cameron au fic] chapter 1

Summary: Isla Carrera had planned for the summer before college to be focused on three things: helping out at her family's restaurant (the helpful daughter), preparing for college (the good student), and having fun with the Pogues (the loyal friend). But one fateful night, where her car breaks down and her rescuer is none other than Rafe Cameron, seems to send her summer down a path she didn't see coming--one teeming with a secret, illicit romance with the last person she expected. And if her friends and sister found out, Isla isn't sure they'll be so understanding, no matter what her feelings are.

Author's Note: I forgot how much I absolutely loathe writing summaries LOL but anyways! First chapter is here, let me know if y'all vibe with it. I had fun writing it and if you wanna see more, let me know! (And now I have to figure out if I remember linking everything on my blog since I haven't posted my writing on Tumblr in forever. . .)

Chapter 1

“Oh, no. No, no, no. Don’t do this to me, please.”

Isla Carrera’s pleading is in vain as the engine of her car sputters out of life, and there’s just enough juice left for her to pull over onto the side of the dirt road so she’s not stranded in the middle. Her grip on the steering wheel remains tight as she sits in silence, staring out onto the dark road only lit up by the two beams of her headlights. The small silver lining, if there is one, is that she knows exactly where she is, just a little ways away from a row of houses on Figure Eight. But right now, she’s surrounded by trees on a road that has no street lamps, the sky a blanket of black above her.

Her groan cuts through the silence, eyes squeezing shut as she rests her forehead against the steering wheel. She should have just slept over at John B’s house like her sister, Kie, decided to. But Isla’s covering another waitress at the restaurant early tomorrow, and she didn’t want to run late again or else her parents would rip her a new one. Kie’s shift wasn’t until later in the afternoon, so her sister was in no rush to get home. Now here Isla is, with a car that won’t turn over, still a fifteen minute drive away from her house.

“Fucking great,” she mutters, making sure her hazards are on and her phone is in her pocket before getting out of the car.

Though she knows nothing about cars, Isla pops open the hood and uses the flashlight on her phone. If she’s being honest, it all looks like a bunch of mechanical junk she has no idea how to work her way around. She’s not sure why she even bothers, so instead of wasting time, she unlocks her phone to find the number for a towing service.

A rumble of a car engine catches her attention, the kind that makes an annoying popping sound, and by the time she looks up and around the open top of her hood, she sees two guys hopping out of an old Ford truck. She vaguely recognizes them. Just by the look of them, they seem to be a couple of years older than her—and clearly from The Cut. Not that it matters, since her best friends are from the other side of the island, but not all of the people from The Cut are fond of those from Figure Eight, and vice versa. Isla and her sister, though they belong on the more privileged side of the island, prefer the freedom of The Cut.

None of that exactly matters right now, though.

Music cranks out of the car, but Isla can’t pay it any mind as unease creeps into her stomach when both sets of eyes land on her.

She’s a girl alone in the middle of a road at night, so Isla is immediately on high alert as the guys make their way towards her, slow but confident in a way that makes her feel like a prey. I don’t like this.

Alarm bells are ringing in her head as one of the guys in cargo shorts and a tank top shoots her a slimy grin. “Car trouble, sweetheart?”

Isla’s muscles tense. Yeah, nope. Not good. “Uh, no, all good,” she says, forcing some of that confidence into her voice that Kie is an expert at wielding.

The other one with darker hair hidden under a baseball cap asks, “You sure we can’t help?” His grin is anything but charming. “We’d be more than happy to help.”

They don’t stop their approach, and Isla’s mind begins running through different scenarios, her pulse beginning to quicken in panic she’s trying to keep at bay. There’s no one around to help, and she can’t depend on another car passing by and stopping to help—if they even would. She doesn’t want to lock herself in her car while she calls her dad or friends for help; the idea of sitting trapped makes her heart squeeze with dread.

“You can stop right there.” She doesn’t want to give into the fear that’s slithering through her veins, but she can’t stop the words from escaping her mouth, the crunch of the dirt beneath their shoes too daunting to ignore.

Her hand inches towards her back pocket where she had stashed her keys, fingers closing around the small can of pepper spray she’s got hooked in there. Isla has never had the unfortunate opportunity to use it before, but the vibes she’s getting right now—first time for everything.

“What’s the matter?” the first guy asks with a taunting tilt of his head, neither of them stopping their pace. “We’re only here to help.”

Yeah, fucking right. “Stop.” Her heart is pounding in her ears, taking a few steps back.

Creepy guy number two exchanges a look with number one. “See that, Dyl? Little Miss Kook looks a little scared.”

Oh, screw this. Isla refuses to stick around and find out what’s going to happen, and she doesn’t at all feel guilty when she juts her hand forward and presses down on the top of the small can. Her aim is a little off, so she only manages to spray the first guy—Dyl. The sound of his shriek of pain cuts through the air, and he stumbles back and spits out curses as he presses the heels of his palms into his eyes.

The second guy freezes in surprise, looking between Isla and his friend, but she doesn’t stick around to see what he’s going to do next. Instead, Isla turns and makes a run for it, making sure to press the button on her FOB to lock her car as she bolts down the dirt road. She can hear the guys yelling over the sound of the breeze rushing past her ears, fear fueling more power to her legs as she nears a neighborhood street at the end of the dirt road. Isla isn’t sure if they’re following her, or if they’re even going to, but she doesn’t pause to find out.

She runs and runs, her lungs beginning to burn, as she rounds a stone wall with greenery growing through the cracks that closes in a property—only for her vision to go black for a split second when she collides against something.

“Jesus fucking Christ.” Scratch that—make that someone, because instead of falling back on her ass, a strong pair of arms wrap around her waist to keep her from tumbling down. The grip is tight and secure, and a delicious aroma of what seems to be earthy wood tickles her nose. “What the hell are you—Isla?”

The sound of her name being spoken in that all too familiar voice clears Isla’s head, and she pulls back enough to look up into the startling blue eyes of Rafe Cameron. Her pounding heart seems to slow down a fraction, and she’s not sure what to make of the mild relief that calms down her frazzled nerves because this is Rafe Cameron. Sure, he might not be as bad as those two freaks, and he’s one of her close friends’ brothers, but he’s still the same guy that has gotten into more than a few fights with her best friends. That being said, she shouldn’t find as much comfort as she does being in front of him.

Her breathing is heavy, pulse throbbing uncontrollably. She only barely registers her hands gripping his forearms, like it’s grounding her as she takes in Rafe’s expression. His eyebrows are furrowed together as he looks down at her, his height towering over her five-foot five frame, and there’s more confusion than worry in his features, unsurprisingly. Her heavy breathy makes her privy to the scent of nicotine, glancing down to see a half used cigarette now laying forgotten on the ground.

“What the hell are you doing?” Rafe repeats. Isla hears the familiar thread of annoyance in his voice, but she can’t bring herself to give a damn.

She lets go of him like he’s electrocuted her, taking a step back and forcing him to let go of her, too. It takes everything in her not to acknowledge the way her skin burns where his had touched hers. “Going for a run, what does it look like?” she snaps back, though her voice trembles on her breath.

Rafe’s expression deadpans, though he arches an eyebrow under the dirty blonde bangs that frame his forehead. “Looks like you’re scared,” he states.

“I—” Isla gets cut off by the familiar sound of a car engine rumbling, the popping kind, and the breath locks in her throat as she glances over her shoulder. “Fuck,” she breathlessly mutters, catching sight of the headlights creeping up from around the corner on the road. She’s not sure if those guys are looking for her—though, she wouldn’t be surprised given that she pepper sprayed one of them, and her pulse quickens again in panic with the need to hide away.

“Wait—are you running from someone?” Rafe questions, and Isla looks back at him to see his gaze pointed over her head, right where the noise of the car is coming from. A car that sounds to be approaching too close.

“You’re asking too many questions,” Isla returns hastily, stepping to go around him. “I need to go—”

Rafe lets out an exasperated huff, and if she had all her wits about her, she’d snap at him. But instead, surprise slams through her when Rafe’s hand wraps around her bicep, his grip firm but not tight as he mutters, “Come here.”

Before Isla knows it, she’s being dragged through the gate of the Cameron estate, disappearing onto the property right when the car turns the corner. Her heart launches to her throat when Rafe suddenly turns her, and she’s being pressed against the stone wall, soft leaves pressing to her back in contrast to the hard surface.

Isla’s eyes widen when Rafe’s body presses against her, the air rushing out of her lungs as her gaze snaps up to meet his. “What are you doing?” she asks, her words a mere breath.

He seems surprised by his own actions, lips pursed and that muscle in his clean shaven jaw pulsing almost as quickly as her own heart. Can he hear the thundering, feel it? “Just—stay quiet,” Rafe grits.

Part of Isla wants to push him off—the part that sounds a lot like her friends. But fear wins out, keeping her in place, as she hears the car creep along in front of the gate of the Cameron property.

Rafe’s eyes silently tell her to remain quiet and something tightens her stomach—something other than fear—and it startles her enough to flick her gaze to the left, towards the vine wrapped gate. She can see the headlights slowly passing by, and she prays that these guys aren’t stupid enough to trespass private property.

Then again, they were ready to do God-knows-what to her, so who the hell knows?

The thought alone sends her heartbeat accelerating all over again, panic settling in her bones hard enough to rattle them. Isla’s hands fist at her sides, eyes squeezing shut as she leans her head back against the wall. How the hell had her night taken such a freaky turn? And how is it that Rafe Cameron, of all people, is the one to help her out?

Suddenly, the mid-May night doesn’t feel as warm as Rafe’s body; he isn’t close enough where his body is completely pressing into hers, but she can feel the soft material of his shirt fluttering against the bare skin of her stomach, thanks to her crop top. Isla can feel the heat of his skin seeping into hers, which makes her heart thunder with something other than panic, and she’s not entirely sure what the hell to do with that.

“Relax—they’re gone.”

His voice is low and gruff, a tone that makes goosebumps pebble her skin even in this warm weather. Isla opens her eyes with a sharp exhale and her brown eyes immediately find Rafe’s blue, her throat tightening under his scrutinizing gaze. True, she can’t hear the engine anymore, the headlights are also gone, and Isla tries to even out her breathing while nodding slowly.

Rafe’s eyes rake over her and shouldn’t she feel unsettled about that? About how close he’s standing to her? But it seems like all of her unease has been used up from evading those weirdos, so Rafe Cameron being her rescuer doesn’t annoy her as much as it normally would.

“So what was that about?” he questions, raising an eyebrow.

Isla’s throat works, dragging her gaze back up at him. The lamps spaced out along the wall light his face, casting shadows along his sharp cheekbones. He’s so handsome—the thought crosses through her mind quickly, and though she would never admit it to her friends, she can’t help but find the truth in it—as insane as it might be.

“Nothing to concern yourself with,” Isla finds herself saying, lifting her chin in a small act of defiance.

The corner of Rafe’s mouth twitches into a ghost of a smirk, and through the light reflecting in his eyes, she can see them dancing in amusement. “Given that I just saved your ass, an explanation would be nice.”

Isla scowls, all thoughts of his stupidly good looks vanishing. “I didn’t ask you to do that. I had it under control.”

It’s a lie spoken through her teeth, and Rafe can see that. “Yeah, looked real under control when you were running for your life,” he replies dryly, eyebrows rising. But then his expression flattens out, eyebrows furrowing together once again as he says, “Seriously, Isla. What gives? What the hell was that about?”

“Just—some fucking weirdos, I don’t know,” she huffs, frustration from this entire ordeal bubbling to the surface as she rubs her hands up her face and runs her fingers through her hair. “I—Can you back up?” she asks hastily, forcing a glare. Rafe, surprisingly, simply presses his lips together and raises his hands in defense while taking a couple of steps away from her. Isla is no longer embraced by his warmth, by his scent, and there’s an unexpected tug in her chest that she ignores. “My car broke down on that dirt path behind the road. I was trying to figure it out when these guys pulled up and, I don’t know, shit got weird so I made a break for it.”

Rafe frowns as he listens to her, and Isla shakes her head, rubbing the back of her neck. “I need to get back to my car,” she says.

“Seriously?” Rafe asks, scoffing. “You’re gonna go back when some freaks are looking for you?”

Isla glares at him, not at all appreciating him talking to her like she’s stupid. “My wallet’s still in my car. I need to grab it if they haven’t fucking broken into my car already.”

She moves past him to head to the gate, surprised to hear his footsteps as he easily catches up to her. “What, you’re gonna walk back?” When Isla glances at Rafe, he’s looking at her like she’s insane. No sign of the contempt he normally saves for her and her friends, which is slightly unnerving. “After you were just running from some freaks? You do realize how much of a bad idea that is, right?”

She shrugs even as the unease from before returns at the idea of running into those guys again. “I need to get my wallet,” is her meek response.

Rafe lets out a breath, running his fingers through his hair and Isla briefly frowns at herself at the way her gaze seems to run to the flex of his bicep. And the way her stomach fucking flutters because this is Rafe Cameron. The only fluttering her stomach should be doing where he’s concerned is one tinged with nausea.

Rafe then fixes her with a stern look. “Come on,” he says firmly before walking down the driveway of his house.

Isla blinks out of whatever stupor she was in and glares at his back—and at the demand he left her with. She scoffs, hands splaying in annoyance until she realizes he’s headed straight for his motorcycle. Her shoulders drop, rooted on the spot as she says flatly, “You’re joking.”

Rafe is already pulling out a helmet—scratch that, two helmets—and looking at her, once again, like she’s an idiot while she glares at him. At least there’s that bit of normalcy. “This—” He holds up both helmets in each hand. “Is better than you walking back to your car by yourself. Let’s go.”

Isla’s disbelief only intensifies. She doesn’t walk over to him, doesn’t take the proffered helmet. Instead, she exhales sharply and crosses her arms over her chest, asking, “Why are you helping me?”

Rafe has the gall to look annoyed by her question, arms resting at his sides. His gaze locks with Isla’s, but she doesn’t shy away from it as he eventually drops his head back with a groan before looking back at her once more. “Listen, contrary to your and your friends’ popular belief, I’m not a complete dick.” Isla can’t help but scoff and roll her eyes, cutting her gaze away from him in doubt. He cannot be serious. “I wouldn’t want either of my sisters to be fucking chased by some losers, so just think of this as my good deed of the month, alright? Now will you please take the damn helmet and get on the bike?”

Frankly, Isla feels like she’s just stepped into an alternate reality because, seriously, when was the last time Rafe Cameron ever did anything nice for her—if ever?

But as much as Isla’s pride is begging for her to tell him thanks but no thanks and turn and walk back to her car, fear still resides in the pit of her belly, waiting to strike. She hates to admit it, but Rafe is right. It’d be dumb of her to walk back alone at night after what just happened. Maybe she could call her sister or one of her friends, but that would just add unnecessary time to all this, and Isla just really wants to get home. So, fine; maybe she can accept Rafe’s offer to drive her to her car, and then from there maybe she can call an Uber home and call a tow truck from the safety of her bedroom.

Rafe holds out one of the black helmets in impatience, and Isla purses her lips as she pushes herself to walk over. She does her best not to admire the sight of him next to his bike, something she never would have done before tonight. Maybe this whole freaky situation has loosened some screws in her brain.

Isla all but snatches the helmet out of his hand, though a part of her feels as though it’s just for appearances’ sake to keep up her usual attitude around Rafe, and tucks her dark hair behind her ears before pulling the helmet on, the visor still up. She tries her best not to think of the weight of his gaze on her as she fiddles with the straps on her chin to secure the helmet, but she’s unable to get it right, fingers trembling despite herself.

“I got it,” Rafe says, and Isla freezes when he gently bats her hands away and steps up to her, using his finger to push at the bottom of the helmet so she can tilt her head back enough for him to see the straps. The heat of his body greets her once more and she’s silent as she feels him secure the straps, breath hitching quietly when the backs of his fingers brush against her skin.

He’s done within seconds, but it sure as shit feels longer as she remains standing there, watching him pull on his own helmet. Isla watches silently as Rafe gets on the bike, wondering how she got here, and he says, “Hop on.”

Isla has ridden on the back of JJ’s bike plenty of times, so she gets on with no trouble, though she does have to grip Rafe’s shoulders in order to do so. They’re broad and firm under her hands, and she mentally chastises herself for even thinking about his stupid shoulders. When she’s settled behind him, her legs framing his, Isla’s heartbeat picks up at the sudden proximity, her front against his back.

She’s sure she’s barely breathing when her skin warms because there’s barely any space that exists between them, and when Rafe tells her, “Hold on or risk flying off,” she can’t decide if she wants to smack him upside the head or beg for the ground to swallow her whole.

Sliding the visor down, Isla inhales deeply and quietly before winding her arms around Rafe’s waist, teeth gritting together because if her friends saw her now, they definitely would believe she’s lost her mind. The fact of the matter is, right now all she can seem to focus on is the solidness of his stomach against her arms and how fucking good he smells, which is confusing and overwhelming and everything in between.

The motorcycle’s engine roars to life, and seconds later Rafe is kicking off the kick-stand and they’re riding down the driveway and onto the road. She had told him her car stopped on the dirt path behind the actual road, separated by trees, and that’s all Rafe seemingly needs to know as he takes them in the right direction. The breeze as they go feels good against her, cooling her heated skin down and she would never admit it, but riding on the back of Rafe Cameron’s bike has a somewhat calming effect on her.

The tension that had tightened her muscles since her encounter with those other guys melts away, and the rapid thumping of her heart has nothing to do with anxiety and everything to do with the thrill of this moment. Maybe it’s ill advised, but it seems to be exactly what she needs as the night air mixes with Rafe’s cologne—or maybe he just smells like that in general?

God, she’s getting too weird about this.

Soon enough, her car comes into view and Isla is relieved when there seems to be no sign of those guys. Rafe stops the bike right next to her car, and another sigh of relief escapes her when she sees that her car doesn’t look damaged. Swinging her leg over, she uses Rafe’s shoulders as leverage to get off the bike, trying not to think too much about the loss of his body heat as she reaches for the helmet straps.

They’re easier to undo than they were to strap, and she lifts the helmet off, one hand already flattening her dark hair as Rafe holds his hand out for the helmet. As she unlocks the car, Rafe asks, “How’d you manage to outrun them?”

Isla leans into the driver’s seat, reaching for her tote bag in the passenger seat. She digs through it for a moment, taking stock of her wallet, lip gloss, lip balm, and the few other things still safely inside. “I pepper-sprayed one of them,” she answers as she pulls out and straightens.

When she turns to look at Rafe, whose helmet’s visor is up, she sees the smirk that curls at his mouth. How does a sight that made her want to knee him in the stomach before make her feel kind of weak kneed right now? Did those guys really freak her out so much that now down is up and left is right? “Nice,” he murmurs, nodding in approval. Jutting his chin towards her car, he asks, “You gonna call a truck?”

Isla shakes her head. “When I get home,” she says, pulling out her phone.

Rafe nods as he holds the helmet out once more. “Alright, let’s go.”

Isla pauses, gaze flicking up from her phone screen where the Uber app is open to look at him. Arching an eyebrow, she asks, “Uh, go where?”

He mirrors the arched eyebrow look. “I’ll take you home,” he says as if it’s obvious when it very much isn’t.

“No thanks. I can Uber,” she answers, already putting her home address in.

Rafe scoffs, shaking his head as he remains sitting on his bike. “You’re just full of bad ideas tonight, aren’t you?” he says. Isla’s eyes narrow, irritation sparking through her as he splays his arms out to gesture to the road they’re on. “You’re really gonna wait out here on a dirt road, with no street lamps, in the dark for an Uber when I’m offering you a ride home right now?” Before she can respond, he carries on, “On the same stretch of road, mind you, that you just got harassed on?”

The irritation intensifies, and Isla’s expression twists into a glare as she snaps, “What’s it to you, huh? You already did your good deed of the month. We’re not friends, Rafe. I don’t need your help.”

Even with the helmet on, she can tell he’s clenching his jaw, eyes hard as he sets them on her. The look makes her chest burn in a way that’s not all unwelcome, and that alone should be a sign that she’s losing it. “We may not be friends, but you’re my sister’s friend, alright? Sarah would kill me if she found out I left you out here by yourself. So stop being so fucking stubborn and get on the damn bike, Isla. I’m taking you home.”

She presses her tongue to her cheek, shoulders bunched in frustration while Rafe glares at her, his own impatience radiating off of him in waves. Sarah has told Isla how stubborn her brother can be, and while Isla doesn’t know Rafe well, she knows him and has dealt with him enough to know he isn’t budging on this. So, with a huff, she snatches the helmet once more, ignoring the protests in her head that sound suspiciously a lot like her friends as she pulls the helmet on.

She manages to get the straps this time and gets back on the bike, her bag securely hanging off her shoulder as Rafe starts the bike again and Isla swallows silently as she wraps her arms around his waist once more. Every part of her is warm where it touches him, and as he drives, she tilts her head back, practically begging for anyone listening to get her to calm the hell down.

Seriously—how the hell did Rafe Cameron become her would-be hero of tonight?

Luckily, her house is a ten minute drive from the Cameron house and Isla allows him to pull up to the front of the house, since Kie isn’t home and has no chance of peeking out her bedroom window and seeing Isla getting off Rafe’s bike. He parks the bike and Isla lets go of him almost immediately, hopping off the bike and undoing the straps of the helmet under her chin.

Rafe is already looking at her by the time she gets the helmet off, his blue eyes visible since the visor is lifted. With a close mouthed, saccharine smile, Isla all but shoves the helmet into his hands. “Thanks for the ride. Let’s never do this again.”

He scoffs as he shakes his head, but the smirk on his face is apparent. “Don’t have to tell me twice.”

Isla rolls her eyes and, without another word, turns towards her house. She’s on the front porch and fishing keys out when she glances to the right and sees Rafe still parked there, seemingly watching her. Her stomach does a stupid, weird flip as she unlocks the door and shoos him. “Go away,” she hisses, even though Kiara isn’t home and her parents wouldn’t care that Rafe dropped her off—hell, her mom would be thrilled, honestly.

Even from this distance, she can just picture Rafe’s arrogant smirk as he lifts a hand in a two fingered salute before revving the engine of his bike, and Isla clenches her jaw as he speeds off, the roar echoing down the block. Exhaling sharply, Isla shakes her head and walks into her house, shutting the door behind her just as she hears footsteps approaching her.

“Where have you been?” her mom asks, not demanding but more concerned.

Isla smiles sheepishly as she faces her mother. “Yeah, about that. . .”

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twistedwonderlandshenanigans · 26 days

Text

School-side Staycation - Staff Shenanigans

@ashipiko has a super fun 1k follower event going on that reminded me of a conversation I had with a friend a While ago!! I decided to turn it into a drabble, so I hope you guys enjoy some NRC Staff Shenanigans!! (Including my staff/greenhouse caretaker oc, Aspen Zoi - I apologize in advance for the stim word "like" OTL if you don't check out his profile, just know he speaks like your stereotypical surfer/hippie/stoner)

Also apologies OTL I have to write on my phone due to Technical Difficulties, RIP my formatting. Um just as a heads up, there is some food talk in regards to calories and dieting. It's not talked about a lot, but it is in there.

Also also this is my first time writing all the staff together so I hope it's at least entertaining!

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

"Turkey burgers, really Divus, I'd have thought better of you." Mozus scoffed lightheartedly over the younger man's shoulder, watching the black latex clad hands work in a mix of shredded vegetables into the meat.

Crewel raised a questioning brow to his senior, using his shoulder to push away hair from his face for the upteenth time that day. Even with his dark shades on, both the unamusement and the spark of competitiveness was felt to be fanned.

"Well, Mozus, if you cared to ever look past those dusty old history books of yours and indulge in the dietary world, you would know that ground turkey-"

"Sucks. It sucks." Vargas interrupted, shaking his head in disappointment. He was wearing near neon orange shorts and a white tank top, though clearly splattered with some stains from his preparation, shades sat nicely atop his lofty locks. His food was currently concealed in the two heaping platters he had under aluminum foil as he set them down on the table next to the barbeque. "It's got less protein, less iron, less zinc, and more sodium than ground beef. It has a little more 'healthy' fat," the air quotes were heavily emphasized by the gym teacher, "but for Sevens sake Divus, it's supposed to be a vacation sort of thing. Let the kids loose for a little while."

An audible "hmph" left the alchemy professor, moreso at Trein's smug grin than Ashton as he refocused on his work. His UV protectant, black, long sleeve shirt was rolled up to his elbows, a simple red short sleeve button up layered on top. "Not everyone can afford to give up their calorie intake over a vacation."

"Then you may as well have just made black bean patties and volunteered yourself to make the vegan option."

Trein sighed and shook his head at Ashton's apparent naivety as he opened his grill, throwing a few patties on. Perhaps his air of superiority would have been less humorous if not for the cargo shorts, white shirt, the blue, green, pink and yellow tropical overshirt, the matching, tropical bucket hat, and the apron that read "Grillmaster", but Trein continued anyways.

"He's using the leftovers of his dogs food that he thawed and forgot to use."

An awkward silence filled the air between the three of them, save for the soft sizzling of Treins burgers and the distant sounds of their beloved students having fun. Ashton spoke up in near disbelief.

"....Divus is that-"

The older of the two suppressed a scowl, trying to play it off best he could as he waved off his former underclassmans concern.

"Ground turkey is ground turkey, how I was going to use it is irrelevant! Really now Mozus was that necessary?!"

Vargas exchanged glances with Trein, before grinning a little more, willing to 'poke the bear'.

"I know you call them your pups but..."

Crewel felt his eye twitch slightly. Not much got to him, but the implication that 1. His dogs weren't incredibly dear to him, and 2. That his students weren't held to the same regard as his dogs in terms of how he cared for them, was not something he felt he could articulate well enough to get it through Ashton's thick, thick skull.

" It's still perfectly fine food, it's ought to be better than whatever Dire has!"

In an attempt to get the attention off of him for once, Crewel directed his, and his colleagues attention to the approaching headmage, ignoring the soft snickers behind him from Ashton for the sake of his sanity.

The headmage wore a huge grin under the stupid mask of his, dressed in his normal vacation attire. His arms were outstretched, as if anyone there would hug him as a greeting - none of them would, but especially not now that one was grilling, the other had his hands plunged into raw meat, and the third...well Vargas wasn't doing anything that would impede him from doing so, but he pretended to look busy as he fidgeted with the aluminum foil from one of his platters, careful to not lift it up.

Trein glanced at the headmage as he joined them under the white tents, his clawed gloves drawing most of his attention as Dire lowered his arms to his sides.

"Dire. What are you bringing to cook?"

The headmage looked at him blankly before smiling, chuckling a little awkwardly as he took his hat off and held it to his chest. As if he didn't already look pathetic, now he looked like he was going to apologize, and the staff in front of him already looked unamused.

"Ehe, well you see, I was generous enough to allow our students host this event-"

Knowing glances were exchanged between the three as Crowley continued.

"So neeever did I ever think my kindness would be taken advantage of like so! After all the budgeting and set up and organizing and ordering and nights laying awake and wondering how to make today the best success it could be, I didn't think I would be expected to cook too!"

The masked man rested the back of his hand against his head dramatically, trying and failing to gain the sympathy of the staff who all very well knew he had signed off on the event, and being a part of the catering. Hell, he had admitted it himself- he hadn't done any of that. That was all part of hosting, something that had very much not been on his shoulders, like many other responsibilities this year.

Vargas moved to the table across from Crewel, starting to make a protein-packed sauce to go with his still-mystery food, shooting Crowley a bit of a shit-eating grin.

"Well I guess you better go buy hotdogs or something from Sam's and be prepared to lose."

An indignant squawk left Dire, his dramatic display clearly not working in his favour, and he couldn't fathom why.

"Lose??"

"Hot stuff comin' through! And it ain't just me-"

Sam wheeled a tri-level service cart over the grass with ease, thanks to magic, each level with absolutely delicious smelling, but hidden food. Aspen followed close behind, Willow, his Pekin duck toddling after him.

Dire moved out of the way so as to let the trio through, Sam moving next to Vargas and starting to load tray after tray onto the serving table, a determined and slightly crazed expression on his face.

"Ain't nobody beatin' Mama's mac'n cheese recipe. Not even your fancy ass brisket Ashton, don't pretend like that ain't whatchyer tryna hide under there, I know you too damn well fo' you to try an' hide it."

Vargas and Same broke into easy conversation as Aspen hung back with Crowley, who was still visibly confused. He looked down at his hands, as if they held the answer to his questions.

"Lose?? Beating his mother's recipe??? What have I missed????"

Aspen's single, amused "haaah" was rather annoying to the headmage. Despite the sharp turn of his head and the glare he directed at Aspen, he just gave him his same old dopey grin.

"Aww man, you really didn't, like, read anything you signed, did ya? The teacher who like... looses the cook off gets pelted with water balloons by like...the whooole student body. It would really suck if one of us forgot to bring something. It'd be like...immediate disqualification or whatever."

The blond tilted his head a bit and giggled as he watched a few of the students play volleyball not far from them, oblivious to the rising panic on the headmage's face.

"But you haven't brought anything?! So what if two faculty members didn't bring anything?! The penalty is halved, right?!"

Aspen let out a small laugh.

"Hah. As if. Babygirl and I made seven layer salad, which is like, on Sam's cart, and a buncha desserts last night, isn't that right?" He bent down to pick up Willow, kissing her head as he cradled her. "I mean sure, baking isn't, like, COOKING but I don't think anybody is gonna complain about brownies 'nd, like, homemade ice cream, y'know? I just gotta wait to bring it out cuz..like....the ice cream...duh."

He waited a beat, the rising panic from the man beside him finally catching on. He was about to ask, but Crowley was on his knees next to Sam in a split second, holding his hand and groveling.

"PLEASE- no, actually, as your boss, I DEMAND you open your shop and sell me the best cuts of meat- no, actually, I want as many tube's of ground beef, ah, no, Trein is already- ground PORK-"

Sam shook his hand away from Crowley in mild disgust.

"Oh hell no, might I remind ya, I'm on vacation, as are the rest of us and the little imps. If you want to serve hot dogs, you'll have to go into town and move fast. Otherwise you're gonna have to embrace your fate of death by a thousand waterballoons." Sam swapped the position of one of his trays with Vargas' platter, so as to get his jerk chicken onto the grill after changing his glove out for an untouched one.

"With all due respect, your poor plannin' does NOT constitute an emergency on my part, Mr. Crowley, Sir."

Dire let out an undignified noise at Sam's facetiousness and lack of cooperation.

Trein looked down at the rather defeated looking headmage and sighed at the mess of a man, shaking his head again in disappointment.

"For Sevens sake, pull yourself together Dire. You could go ask the ghosts in the Cafeteria if they've got anything they'll lend you to cook."

Crowley looked like a kicked puppy at Trein for a moment before standing back up, beaming and near launching himself at him for a hug, which Trein avoided as if this was something that happened often. Despite not getting what he wanted, Crowley clearly had new vigor.

"Ah! You're right. Of course, if the ghosts are there I could- hm! Nevermind, nevermind, yes thank you my dear friend, I knew you wouldn't let me suffer! Unlike SOME people." He shot a fake dirty look at the rest of his beloved faculty, only to be met with snickers and mildly amused expressions. Yes, even with all their jests and disagreements, these were the people he felt most comfortable around. His expression softened for a half second before he clapped twice and smiled widely again.

"I'll be back with something delicious! I swear to defeat you all!" His voice lilted playfully, before he disappeared in a puff of smoke.

A shared sigh came from Trein and Crewel, amusing their younger colleagues with the similarity.

Crewel wiped at his head with his shoulder again, grinning knowingly at Trein.

"Mozus."

"Divus." Trein kept his focus trained on his burgers, though his voice had an air of amusement to it, and it was clear the corner of his mouth was kicked up in a small smile.

"Were you really trying to be of assistance?"

Crewel finished rolling the last of his turkey blend into disks, turning his full attention to his conniving collegue.

Trein hummed a bit in response.

"Yes. Not to him, to us, but his absence makes it much easier to concentrate."

Crewel shed his latex gloves, put some hand sanitizer on and walked over to 'supervise' Trein's grill, before grabbing a patty that was cooked and looking over it in mild disgust.

"Concentrate on what, perfecting a burn on your patties, oh 'grillmaster'" he mocked, breaking a piece off and eating it, hardly hiding his distaste.

"Ah, I see, you're trying to make up for your lack of seasoning using charcoal, well old man I can guarantee the turkey burgers you were so quick to dismiss will certainly be better than that piece of semi-edible Sahara."

Trein sighed, annoyed, plucking the rest of the patty from Crewel's fingers and throwing it out.

"I always burn my first one. It guarantees I won't burn the rest of them. If you used those astute powers of observation you're so proud of, you'd have seen the rest of the burgers are cooked beautifully."

He lifted the foil just enough to show Crewel the admittedly, mouth-wateringly delicious looking patties underneath, though Divus refused to show any indication that he was impressed.

"They're still bland. The students don't have a grandpa stomach like you."

Trein rolled his eyes internally, huffing, but even Sam and Aspen snickered at the comment.

"It will be fine once I make my sauce to go with them. My daughters love my cooking, I'm sure our students will as well. You have your dogs as reference for your tastes. I would be more worried if I was in your shoes."

Crewel moved towards Sam, who made room for him, moving his chicken to the top rack so Divus could use the main part of the grill to start cooking.

"You say that as if I don't cook for myself either. Really Mozus, I'm hurt by how lowly you think of me. Besides, I understand cooking as not only an art, but from the very chemical bases of it. I have every confidence that if no one else, I will be getting votes from Pomefiorians."

Aspen snorted from behind him, waving his hand dismissively.

"Nahh, Poms are gonna go for Sam's mac or, like, his chicken. They're like, tired of eating that Vil guys super bland food. Ya might, like, get Vil himself? Maybe? But I feel like he's prolly just gonna beeline it to my salad cuz of that new green diet thing one a his freshies said he's on. I only know cuz like, they were getting veggies from the greenhouse. If anything, I think ya might pull a few votes from Savanaclaw, but like, to be honest, even as a vegetarian, Ashton's brisket looks really good and prolly will come in after Sam's food."

Crewel let out a soft sigh, but Vargas was beaming, as Sam and Aspen exchanged finger guns and a wink. Trein squinted slightly at his watch.

"Lunch is meant to be in about 45 minutes. Aspen, Vargas, seeing as the two of you have nothing better to do, I suggest you start cutting up veggies for the burgers and fruit for after. Just make sure to use some hand sanitizer first."

The two exchanged a glance, both mouthing a mocking, lighthearted 'yes dad' behind Trein's back, making Sam snicker a bit.

"Dontchya worry Mozus, they got it covered."

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

And that's where my brain stopped RIP

In case you're wondering, Crowley showed up like 3 hours late and got ambushed. It's okay though his "food" would have put him in last place anyways.

I'm not used to typing things like this out on my phone, and I'm even less used to reading them so this is not proofread or betaread or like. I'm not. Rereading it so here's to hoping it flows okay and it's as engaging as I think it is lol.

ANYWAYS thank you for such a fun event Ashi!!

Taglist: (ask to be added)

@fluffle-writes @my-cursed-brain

#v talks #twst #twisted wonderland #twst hcs #twst scenarios #twst oc #twst staff #nrc staff #mozus trein #ashton vargas #divus crewel #twst sam #twst fan event #oc: aspen #oc: aspen zoi #twst headcanons #twst fluff #twst crack

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bluehwale · 2 years

Note

Ok sooo, you said that I could send my request and I couldn't wait any longer. The first fic is when they confessed for reader, but I'll love to know how they met reader and how they became that tight friend, a prequel if you will. That was it, thanks dear!

"the rainbow thief": the beginning | demigods! poly ateez au

01 / ‘the rainbow thief’ masterpost / next

summary. you never expected to be in a camp meant for demigods but, here you are. you also didn't expect on becoming friends with a brooding emo boy who introduces you to five of his friends, nor do you expect to meet two bickering best friends but, here you are. or alternatively, you meet eight boys that makes your life much more bearable.

pairing(s). ot8 demigods! ateez x daughter of iris! reader (son of hades! hongjoong, son of athena! hwa, son of apollo! yunho, son of poseidon! yeosang, son of zeus! san, son of aphrodite! mingi, son of dionysus! wooyoung & son of ares! jongho)

word count. 2.7k

genre. crack, flustered joong, fluff!, san being clumsy (again)

warnings. cursing, mentions of anxiety, alcohol intake (wooyoung and his wine), impulsive writing so it's not the best, camp half blood universe inaccuracies help

note. thankyou for the req and im so sorry i posted it so late!! i totally forgot abt tumblr bc i was having too much fun on my spring break im sorry T_T but it's here now!!! i also won't be accepting any more requests for demigods! atz </3

Hongjoong feels sick.

“I think you’re fine.” Yunho frowns, pressing his palm against Hongjooong’s forehead one last time just to make sure. The healer did everything he could, even resorting to human hospital’s protocol check-ups when his hyung refused the usual nectar and ambrosia because he insists that, “something’s really wrong with me, Yunho, and I don’t think those can fix it.”

The healer can only groan inwardly at his friend’s stubbornness because there’s nothing a little nectar, ambrosia, and his glowing fingertips can’t fix. But of course, he continues to entertain him as he’s not in the mood to test the patience of a son of Hades today.

“What are your symptoms again?” Yunho asks flatly, inflating the cuff wrapped around Hongjoong’s upper arm to gauge his blood pressure again (in truth, he doesn’t know how to read a blood pressure monitor but does it anyway for Hongjoong’s sake) to appease his “patient” who is currently sitting on a cot because he feels “sick.”

“I had this really weird feeling in my stomach, like, it feels like my organs are squashed around and everything inside me turned upside down,” Yunho frowns. Okay, that sounds pretty serious. “And my face got all hot, my feet couldn’t stop twitching, and I stuttered too!” Hongjoong continues, bringing a hand to his head in worry. “This doesn’t feel like me at all.”

“Hyung, was there anything that made you feel anxious?” eyebrows furrowed in concern, Yunho regards Hongjoong carefully. “If there’s anything troubling your mind lately, I’m here to listen.”

“No, I don’t think it’s anything like that—”

An unfamiliar figure suddenly pops inside the curtain circling the cot, momentarily surprising Yunho and leaving Hongjoong stunned once he recognizes the person in front of him.

“Sorry, hi,” you grimace, feeling apologetic towards the tall boy you scared with your uninvited presence. You just got here, alone and wary, with a few scratches here and there from being chased by monsters, so you hope the cute boy with soft looking hair in front of you is the person you’re looking for and that your day won’t be even more ruined by an embarrassing moment of you mistaking him for another person. “I was told to find a Yunho here? They said he could give me something to help with my injuries.”

Forgetting entirely about his hyung’s complaints, Yunho rapidly deflates the cuff still circling Hongjoong’s arm and rips it off in a rushed manner, earning a loud yelp from the poor raven haired boy still sitting on the cot (he did not end up checking the numbers on the monitor).

Hongjoong feels his heartbeat quicken when your gaze lands on him once you stand on your tippy toes to look over Yunho’s shoulder in curiosity. A smile threatens to creep up on his own face when he notices your eyes brighten and a sweet smile curling up your lips. “Oh, Hongjoong! Hi!”

“_____. Good to see you again.”

Yunho flicks his eyes back and forth between you and Hongjoong, mischievously grinning at the interaction you’re both having because it takes awhile for Hongjoong to warm up to people and it seems like you’re new, so to think that Hongjoong has warmed up to you that quick, you must be quite the character. Or maybe, the emotionally stunted son of Hades has finally taken an interest in someone.

Yunho leans towards the latter. And he can’t wait to tell the others about this so they can all tease him about it.

“Oh,” you take note of him sitting on a cot and remind yourself that you’re in the infirmary, causing your eyes to rake over Hongjoong in worry. “Are you okay? You’re hurt?”

“No! I’m perfectly fine!” The raven haired boy who was previously complaining about his “weakened knees” suddenly sprang up from the bed, seemingly energized, and pushes a gawking Yunho over your direction with a tight grip on the back of his shoulders. “You should let Yunho check up on you then get some rest. Hope you feel better soon.”

You smile in thanks at the boy you met a few hours prior, the first person who greeted you when you stepped foot on camp, and bid him a goodbye as he turns to leave the infirmary to let Yunho tend to you alone.

Before he could, however, you nonchalantly tell him, “I like those glasses on you. Looks cute.”

A pause, and then, there it is.

Hongjoong’s cheeks slowly flame a bright pink, the soles of his sneakers nervously squeaking against the hardwood floors as he turns his head to face you with his eyes flicking to every corner of the room and anywhere that does not land on your figure. An intangible noise escapes his throat. “T-thanks.”

Oh. Yunho slaps a hand over his mouth as he tries his damn best to stifle in the laughter to save face of Hongjoong’s dignity.

Hongjoong’s not sick.

For the first time ever, Hongjoong is flustered.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ ✺◟( • ω • )◞✺

“That’s _____? Hongjoong’s _____?”

Hongjoong smacks the back of the two-tone haired boy’s head as he hisses, “If you don’t lower your fucking voice.”

Wooyoung’s yowl of pain is followed with a death glare shot at his hyung, the slightly tipsy boy hugging his ‘I LOVE DIONYSUS’ mug close to his chest to avoid any unnecessary spillage of perfectly good wine. “What was that for?” he cries. “They won’t even be able to hear me,” he grumbles, pointing to the group of Iris kids noisily huddled together in celebration of winning a game of Capture the Flag against the Athena kids. An impressive rarity. Athena kids are known to be very strategic with their battle plans, even in mere simulations like the game they play every Friday, which is why the Iris kids are especially happy.

Yunho tsks at the slurring of his friend’s speech, forcefully wrangling the mug of wine away from the alcohol fiend. Or at least, he attempts to, for the son of Dionysus quickly snatches the mug to avoid his prying fingers, an expression of mocking retaliation sent his way.

“She’s so cool,” Mingi dreamily sighs, having hearts as eyes as he continues to look at you in awe. You’re in the center of the Iris kids circle, a wide smile plastered on your lips as everyone else rejoices on your team’s victory. You meet eyes with both Hongjoong and Yunho (who is still busy trying to keep his feral friend at bay), sending an excited wave their way in greeting which earns back a proud thumbs up from Yunho and a genuinely heartwarming smile from Hongjoong.

“You have to introduce me to her!” Mingi gasps eagerly, hopping around Hongjoong while flailing his arms in glee, unknowingly landing hits on the silently seething raven haired boy who pointedly glares at him in return.

“You can do it yourself.”

“Someone’s doing it right now,” Jongho points out, the rest of the boys turning their heads to see their own Seonghwa hyung, the head counselor of the Athena cabin, make his way towards you and shake your hand with a gentle smile. It seems that he’s congratulating you for your win and Jongho chortles at the obvious twinkle in the eldest’ eyes. He’s trying to make a move on you.

And he can see why Seonghwa, alongside Hongjoong and Yunho, has taken an interest in you.

Because although your fellow siblings are urgently trying to sweep you into the dining pavilion for a celebratory dinner, you still take the time to meet the three new faces that are close friends with Hongjoong. Amidst the conversation between the rest of the boys and you, Jongho gets why it’s so easy for Hongjoong and Yunho to be close to you in the span of a week. Your contradictingly soft but bubbly personality seems to shine out of you, easily melting the coldest hearts (cough, Hongjoong hyung, cough), and the way you always seem to have an easy smile on your face softens just about anyone.

It’s easy to like you.

“Who are they?” you question your siblings once you’ve sat in the Iris table in the dining pavilion, distractedly biting onto your chopsticks as you try to be discreet in sneaking a look at the two lone boys sitting separately in the Zeus table and the Poseidon table. Both tables that, apparently, have been unoccupied for years.

A new kid of the big three; Zeus, Poseidon, and Hades, always garner attention because they’re so rare in quantity. Especially now that there’s two of them, one of your siblings, Yuna, excitedly jumps to inform you. “We don’t know their names yet but I heard they came in while we were just starting the game. Probably why we didn’t hear anything about them until now,” she shrugs, shoving another piece of gimbap into her mouth. “But the other campers said they got claimed immediately after coming here! That’s usually unheard of from the big three.”

Your brother, Keeho, who took the displeasing choice of sitting beside Yuna grimaces in disgust as he force shut her open chewing mouth. “Don’t talk while you’re chewing.”

You take another look at the two boys sitting silently with their heads slightly lowered, taking note of the unhealed scratches and bruises blooming all over their skin. You gasp, turning back to Keeho to ask, “What happened to them?”

“Heard they were hunted by a minotaur which is why they’re both forced to come here. All of the Apollo kids were stationed at our game earlier in case anything happens, probably why they haven’t had the chance to be healed.”

You shovel the rest of your food down your throat, almost choking in the process which earned a few panicked concerns from your siblings, but you ignore them and quickly move to the closest table, the Zeus table, after chugging down water from your goblet.

“Hi! I’m ______. It’s nice to meet you.”

The blonde looks up in surprise to see you and you use the short pause to take a good look at his face. Soft slanted eyes that oddly remind you of a cat’s greet you alongside a shy smile that spreads across his face and pops out both of his dimples.

Oh, you think. You didn’t expect him to be so handsome. You’re screwed.

“_____,” he repeats your name, pleasantly basking in the friendly smile you give him. You slightly waver at the way he says your name so sweetly. “I’m San. It’s nice to meet you too.”

“How are you liking it here?” you ask, trying to start a conversation in hopes of easing his first-day jitters. “I’m also still pretty new here. Just got here last week, actually.”

You can see the tension seep out his shoulders after hearing that you’re one of the newer campers as he gladly sighs in relief. “I’m pretty nervous, I don’t really know what’s going on,” he lets out an emotionless chuckle. “I just found out that my dad isn’t my actual dad and that Zeus? The dude up in the sky? Is apparently my real dad.”

“Yeah,” you grimace, you still haven’t fully grasped that either. “It took awhile for me to get kinda used to things here but I also somehow feel that I belong here,” you look at him, hoping your effort of comforting him is working. “I think you’ll fit in here soon enough. It’s okay to take things slow.”

This time, San genuinely smiles. “Thanks _____.”

“By the way,” he adds in a whisper, tugging your wrist to bring you closer to him, inadvertently causing your cheeks to warm. “I don’t know much about my… dad or Greek Mythology in that matter, but isn’t he like a major dickhead—”

A thunderous clap of lightning pierces through the suddenly darkened sky, striking a tree that stood closest to the dining pavilion, erupting it in booming flames. Surprised screams break out throughout the dining campers, everyone quickly turning their heads to look at San; the most probable culprit of angering the God of the Sky that one of their trees is now on fire.

“Oh, oops,” the guilty boy winces. “Sorry.”

“San, was that you?” a voice came from behind you, requiring you to turn around to see who it is and oh– it’s the boy who was sitting at the Poseidon table; the other new camper. The raven haired boy looks at you, taking in the horrified look on your face as you resume watching the tree burn after attempting to nod at him in greeting. “Man, what’d you do this time?”

“I didn’t do anything,” the blonde boy Yeosang unfortunately calls his best friend, whines. “It’s just… maybe I said some words I shouldn’t have or whatever. Anyways, can’t you fix that? Shouldn’t you have, like, water powers or something?”

“We literally just got here, idiot,” Yeosang rolls his eyes, though he thinks it’d be pretty cool if he does end up having powers. He turns to your direction, taking the chance to talk to you now that he sees you’ve snapped out of your daze. “I’m sorry about him, he must’ve given you a hard time.”

San lets out an offended “hey!”

“No he didn’t,” you giggle. “It’s just,” you point at the still burning tree and a few campers circling it with buckets of water in hopes of putting out the fire. “It’s not everyday that you see stuff like this.”

Yeosang turns around, whistling lowly once he actually takes in the damage his best friend (his best friend’s dad, actually) has done. “Yeah, that looks pretty bad,” he says.

“Eh,” you shrug. “The Demeter kids are probably upset about it but it’s nothing they can’t fix.”

Your eyes widen, you totally forgot why you wanted to approach them in the first place. “Speaking of fixing,” you usher San out of his table and exchange proper introductions with the raven haired boy named Yeosang before dragging them by the wrists to the Apollo table. “You should really get those wounds healed. The Apollo kids here are the healers, they’ll know what to do.”

A tall boy, who Yeosang presumes to be Yunho based on your calls of his name, smoothly steps out of the table with his siblings and introduces himself to both of them. You told the healer about what you heard, that they were both hunted on the way here; hence the bruises from struggles of their escape. His eyes take in the exhausted figures of the two boys and he tells them that they should follow him to the infirmary to heal and rest up.

“Hey! Wait up!”

A boy with two-toned hair surprisingly holding a can of Diet Coke instead of his regular mug, skips to the group of four, tagging along the remaining of the boys behind him. Already exchanging greetings and introductions, the two new boys are slightly surprised at how friendly they all are but they absolutely do not mind at all, despite how they feel like their bones would crumble in exhaustion at any moment.

As the nine of them move together towards the infirmary, Wooyoung keeps bugging Yeosang with stupid questions that makes San laugh. (“Can you turn water into wine?” “If I could, wouldn’t that be blasphemy? And shouldn’t you be the one who turns things to wine?”). He’s never met anyone like them and they’re a bit odd but he thinks that he likes that.

He looks at you walking side by side with Yunho, an imposing Mingi trying to squeeze in the very small space left between you and the healer who is now glaring at his tall friend. Jongho watches from the sides, enjoying the suffering his hyung is going through and letting out amused snickers now and then. Seonghwa and Hongjoong look like they’re fighting over something, arms messily flailing against one anothers’, with Seonghwa letting out occasional squeals. San can’t tell if they’re play fighting or serious.

The blonde smiles, shoving his hands down his pockets. Staying at camp doesn’t sound all too bad now.

“I think you’ll fit in here soon enough.”

He thinks so too.

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operationslipperypuppet · 1 year

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1: Baggin’ it with Balnor: Loud Libraries, Questionable Drug PSAs, and Staying Fit w/ Pendergreens (NADDPOD Aug 5, 2020)

2: Clash of the Corn Cuties (Fantasy High, Ep. 2)

3: “…AS ANY OF YOU” Blast from the Passed (Fantasy High: Sophomore Year, Ep. 15)

4: (finishes with “Only thing that could take us out was a trip to the zoo.”) Rolling up the Hill (A Starstruck Odyssey, Ep. 2)

5: (he misspoke, had to walk back everything, and didn’t remember what it was from. this was after 10 unrelated off topic minutes on the Flintstones.) D&D Court: Bonus Cases - King Robert Can Klump (w/ Ally Beardsley) (NADDPOD Short Rest Jun 24, 2022) [this is a Patreon-exclusive but it’s so unhinged i needed to include it]

6: (including writing a letter to his former wife and expecting her to read it while he watches, then ending the conversation with this song) Leap of Faith (Neverafter, Ep. 15)

7: Everyone else gave a number that was less than 5. Murph thought they were all crazy for saying numbers so low. He said sixteen. Hearthside Chat Q&A: What’s Your Clown Tolerance? (NADDPOD Short Rest, Oct 1, 2021) [this is also a Patreon-exclusive and it’s soooo goddamn ridiculous]

8: Cult of the Trident, thinking a child was named Nana, there’s literally too much to name Trinyvale x Bahumia Mini Arc: Eps. 1-3 (NADDPOD Feb 10, 17, & 24, 2023)

9: Donkey Kong One-Shot: A Bananksgiving Special (NADDPOD, Nov 27, 2019)

10: I’m literally so sorry there are so many moments, the man is insane. if you choose this, tell us what moment, and include the episode title/source/date so we can all enjoy the unhinged moment.

#dimension 20 #naddpod #brian murphy #a starstruck odyssey #fantasy high #fantasy high sophomore year #fhsy #bahumia #trinyvale

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lostonmyroad · 5 months

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Moments That I Want Tattooed On My Forehead From S-Classes That I Raised Chapters 70-90

As always, BEWARE OF SPOILERS!!! Future chapters may be referenced!!!

Omg i forgot how much I loved these arcs. Taejinjae squad is forming (i mean they're 5 seconds away from murdering each other but still)

Chapters 70-80

yerim roasting yoojin’s grandpa-like naming tendencies as she should. naming the unicorns black and white???

yoojin wanting to go to an escape room cafe with yerim and yoohyun :))) AND THEN THEY ACTUALLY DO GO LMFAO (with some property damage involved i'm sure)

yoohyun casually checking whether he needs to get rid of (murder) myeongwoo once he finds out that yoojin didn't actually know him

yoohyun and hyuna tag teaming to defend yoojin in front of the Association!!! Squad goals!!!

yoojin worrying about myeongwoo :)) myeongwoo not caring that yoojin lied to him ;)) wholesome as hell...if you can't tell this is one of my favorite relationships in the series

yoojin’s monster protection squad!!

really small detail that hyj thought shj would give myeongwoo a bouquet also. no sir that privilege (curse?) is for you only.

lmao yoohyun knowing that the way to get to myeongwoo is to be nice to yoojin

myeongwoo praising yoojin on national tv, on a live broadcast the world is watching. as he should!!!

yoojin: please don’t look at me please don’t look at me

yoojin’s fear of the media and what ppl are saying about him :((

fully grown Peace!! love Peace and Yoohyun’s not-friendship

yoojin: let me go in an A rank dungeon PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE

everyone else around him: i’m getting gray hairs

moon hyuna pulling up in her red sports car with the drip is incredible

shj, @ the han brothers: you guys are freaks :)))

yoojin: should i call shj ahjusshi?? (please don't)

shj calling them his kids ajfjejxkwksk

shj and hyj flirting has begun. please reread the chapters and enjoy

not yoojin babysitting 3 s ranks at the same time

"I mean, I'd just wanted to regress and live comfortably. Why was I now in an A-rank dungeon packed with S-ranks? If I'd agreed when Yoohun-ie had said to just live locked up for 3 years, um... would we have gotten an 'end of the world ending?" rip yoojin

they’re all so worried about him :)

“i only had to work myself to the bone for 10 years” if you say so buddy

yoojin being worried about the world possibly ending

hyuna trying to protect? yoojin from hyunjae (or just keep him to herself) either way thank you queen

YOOJIN SCOLDING THEM FOR FIGHTING mom energy off the charts

yoojin telling everyone i love you is comedy gold every. single. time. and also very wholesome

yoojin going full manipulate malewife threatening them (the s-ranks) with myeongwoo

chirpie and it’s wack L rank skill..the mystery

i love seeing yoojin directing dungeon raids. geunseo really knows how to write settings/action!! and yoojin’s perspective is so fun to follow

YERIM GIVING YOOJIN A PRINCESS CARRY YEAHHHH

keyword has been applied to hyuna my beloved

shj making yoojin almost faint and then giving him his coat. they're a mess

shj failed kidnapping attempt. we’ll get em next time. yoojin stop getting kidnapped challenge

yoojin causing chaos every time he enters a dungeon

yoojin fainting like a maiden 10/10

yoojin you’re literally in the hospital. chill out for like five seconds (he proceeds to destroy his hospital room via dokkaebi)

shj: i will buy your love :)) (turns out its kind of effective)

NOAH ENTRANCE NOAH ENTRANCE

chapters 80-90

i haven’t really mentioned the dokkaebi but they’re so cute

yoojin destroying his hospital room lmao. this is not reassuring anyone that he knows how to make good decisions

SONG TAEWON MAKES HIS DEBUT!!! repressed government worker of my dreams

shj deliberately crashing into song taewon’s crusty ass car and then stealing his job as tour guide. freak 4 freak

yerim and shj: working together on making life more difficult for song taewon

Comet the dragon is so cute omgggg

Kang Soyoung having a million speeding tickets so true bestie

KANG SOYOUNG AND HYUNA GOING TO AN ESCAPE ROOM TOGETHER!!! AND GETTING THE FASTEST TIME BECAUSE THEY BROKE IT LMFAOOO

hyunjae freaking yoojin out by flirting with him. but like yoojin can’t help flirting back i love them

stw joking around with yoojin and yerim about randomly arresting people??? lmao??? comedy king??

yoojin worried yerim is becoming a delinquent (too late bestie this ship has sailed)

yoojin saying he's never commited any crimes and then internally going "...I'd committed murder, threatening, and assault. But I wouldn't get caught for those" we love a self aware king

song taewon casually revealing that he ends up investigating yoohyun every three months. i believe it. yoohyun a certified freak

song taewon: so your brother is a freak just thought I'd let you know

there are so many different people who independently tell yoojin that his brother is a freak. yoohyun be normal challenge

infamous song taewon choking yoojin out to see if he’s truly lost his sense of danger scene!!! honestly yoojin this was necessary

fear resistance and the fourth wall: being absolutely fucked

love that yoojin's solution to this is should i start watching horror movies at home??

yoojin: i cant apply the “i love you” keyword to stw because he’ll take it TOO seriously like yeah that's the real reason you can't do that

YERIM IN A SUIT YERIM IN A SUIT

NOAH NOAH NOAH

yoojin wishing he’d gotten hurt instead of yerim :((

small detail of the healer being Indian! as an indian person woo hoo

"...I stepped towards Noah. But the moment I took a single step...my shoulders were grabbed. Both of them, at that. Sung Hyunjae and Song Taewon looked down at me simultaneously. The duo's expressions were different, but somehow they felt familiar." my longest yeah boy ever

taejinjae squad starting to form!!

yoojin seeing a terrible older sibling: it’s on sight (rip Riette)

"You two seem to get along well. Should I alos strangle you once?" LMAOOO i don’t even know man shj is wild

starting to get reveals of the han brothers past… god their parents…

hyunjae being a shady shit behind the scenes

noah is just a baby boy. he’s a baby dragon. baby boy

yoojin going full mother hen on yoohyun after he comes out of his solo dungeon raid

yoohyun grudgingly accepting others because they’re also protecting yoojin

chapter 89 yoohyun is something that is so so special to me

not shj fueling the violence by sending yoohyun picture of a) the damaged hospital room b) evidence of stw choking yoojin out and c) evidence of noah hurting yoojin

KANCOEDI YOOHYUNS CLOSET FULL OF CELL PHONES BC HE KEEPS BREAKING THEM

yoojin not being afraid of yoohyun or peace with fear resistance off :))

chapter 90 fight between yoohyun and noah is. chefs kiss

yoohyun asking where yerim got hurt!!! i mean it’s partially so he has a reason to beat up Noah but!! he does care!!

I'd say this is where the plot really starts (80+ chapters in lmao), especially with the fight againt the SS-rank babbar.

#losttalks #han yoojin #s class #s classes that i raised #sctir #the s classes that i raised #the s ranks that i raised

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writingreadinglurkingandsmirking · 1 year

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It's So Hard To Watch (Everything I Want) - reality tv star!Rafe Cameron x Reader

I Feel You Underneath My Tongue (Next To Every Word That I Should Have Said): Part 1, Part 2

Summary: You and Rafe had a long history together. The love that you shared wasn’t something that you’d ever questioned–not even when you guys were on a break from your relationship. But, suddenly he’s ghosting you. And the next thing you know? You’re getting a call from an MTV producer saying your ex Rafe is a contestant on Are You The One? and they need to come in for the ex’s episode of the show. And well, you couldn’t say no, could you?

CW/TWs: angst, female reader implied, cursing, toxic relationships afoot, a brief description of physical violence, implied previous physical violence, verbal harassment/abuse, not the most edited/reviewed

Words: 8.4k+

Note: Yes I used pretty boy blonde-era Drew for my header what about it!! And also? I used Jeff Probst because I thought it would be funny OBVIOUSLY he’d never host a reality tv dating show goodbye. So I started writing this a long time ago, forgot about it, and just revisited it to finish ‘er up. Now that said, uhhhhh I think I mayyyyy do a part 2 where Rafe gets back home because this is uhhhhh depressing and I Need closure. But! We’ll see!

Rafe Cameron had never been one you’d see going on a fucking reality TV show. No. Not at all, in fact. You had known him for the majority of his life. You’d dated the idiot for three years too. After the breakup, you went no contact for your own sake—he was impossible to be around and not fall back into his arms, no matter how much you hated it. Rafe hated it more, though. He tried desperately in the nearly year and a half since your break-up to get back together. You watched as he genuinely worked on changing himself and improving.

But then, suddenly, four months earlier he’d gone radio silent. You’d be the worst kind of liar if you said that it hadn’t hurt you. The abrupt cut-off had made you realize just how close you’d been to taking him back. Apparently, that wasn’t in the cards, though. Apparently, he was entirely over you. No matter how much you utterly fucking hated that. No matter how much it fucking destroyed you after those first two weeks of realizing that he wasn’t going to be coming back.

It got even weirder, though when a fucking MTV producer reached out to you. We’re with MTV’s Are You The One? they’d explained. You’re the ex of one of our contestants Rafe Cameron. Literally what? Would you be interested in getting a trip to Hawaii and being part of the experience? And again, unendingly now, what the actual fuck had Rafe gotten himself into? And why the fuck was he trying to have you be dragged into it?

All of the emotions that flooded you when that phone call started were…violent to say the least. And you were sad too. Part of you had hoped that Rafe would get the fuck over himself and call you again. Part of you hoped that you would’ve been able to give it another shot. But no. Apparently, he’d decided it’d be much more fun to just, you know, go on a stupid dating show with MTV and find his alleged perfect match. It made you sick to your stomach.

Are You the One was a show that felt like it was ripped from your worst nightmares. At least if Rafe was a contestant on it with someone else. The show had a dating algorithm that helps quantify compatibility for twenty-two people. It uses, according to the producer, in-depth interviews, some questionnaires, and then compatibility tests too. So, in the end, the contestants are set with their ideal match. With “their one” apparently. So, the unaware participants have to then get to know each other and undergo tests all while living with all of each other. And if, in the end, all eleven couples were able to figure out who they were after all eight weeks were up then they’d walk away with one million dollars and, potentially, the future love of their life.

The thought of Rafe meeting…

Naturally, you accepted the producer’s offer.

Topper, one of your best friends, even now–even after everything, told you how stupid of an idea it was to agree.

Even so, he booked his own tickets to come to Hawaii with you.

And that was how you found yourself at an insanely gorgeous resort in Oahu a month later with little to no information on what was actually going on or what would be expected of you. The only consolation was that you were far from the only ex here. It looked like every contestant had one person here for them. You were, however, one of the only… normal-seeming ones. Not for the first time since landing you cursed yourself for going along with this stupidity. Sure they wouldn’t really have another ex to call for Rafe that was actually an ex but that was their problem, not yours. Besides, if there’s one thing MTV can do it’s lie about their reality television shows. Even so, waiting in their stupid green room area altogether for whatever stupid instructions were to come next felt…well, stupid.

You heard your name called over your shoulder and you turned your head. “Hey, pretty girl. Now who is your ex again?” asked an extremely tall, well-built, and objectively gorgeous man next to you. He was grinning at you, the look in his eyes displaying an all-too-familiar attraction. But, if there was one thing you weren’t going to be doing? Fucking any of these weirdos. But, a little flirting couldn’t help. “Was it…was it Ryan?”

“So close. Rafe,” you corrected, giving him a half-smile. “It’s Alex, right? And your ex was Thalia?” He nodded. You hummed, shrugging. They’d shown you the audition videos they’d been given and Thalia seemed…interesting. “She looked super beautiful.”

“Yeah, beautiful and an absolute fucking nutcase,” he said seriously, even as he grinned. “She was always doing some dumb shit. Trying to accuse me of cheating on her when I was at work. Trying to fuck my brother when I told her that we were done.”

You let out a low whistle. “Damn, so you got a score to settle then,” you mused, leaning back in the chair to look at him. “I can respect that. I’m sure the producers love it.”

He nodded. “Oh they do,” he confirmed. He nudged your shoulder playfully and then winked. “Sorry, but I might be dragging your man down because of it. Word on the street is they’ve been paired up the past two weeks or something.” Your heart squeezed in a sad pain and you dutifully ignored it. “Don’t trip though, I’m gonna set him straight on what’s up with Thalia.”

“I don’t care,” you immediately replied, voice sharp and entirely unconvincing.

He barked out a laugh. “Yeah, sure,” he agreed, rolling his eyes. “You’ve been sitting here alone in your own little world instead of talking to all of us so I got a feeling you’re a little wrapped up in all this. And in him.” You shook your head in denial, rolling your eyes at the very true accusation. He chuckled again and this time you raised an eyebrow at him. “So what? Did y’all like break up a week before he came on or whatever?”

Clenching your jaw, you reminded yourself that this was just a stranger making conversation. There was no need to blow up on him. That was Rafe’s thing, not yours. “We broke up like a year and a half ago,” you said plainly.

“After how long?” he asked curiously.

“We’ve known each other since we were kids. We started on and off hooking up in…like high school—which our friends hated, of course. We went to separate colleges, but like…we just couldn’t stay away from each other. And by the time my senior year of college came? We were visiting each other practically every other weekend. Our friends had to inform us we’d been dating for like two years already at that point,” you said, shrugging. “But after he officially asked me and we made it exclusive…official…whatever? We were together for a little over three years.”

His nose wrinkled. “And y’all still run in the same circles and all that?” he asked, a sympathetic grimace on his face. You nodded. This time, he let out a low whistle. “Yeah, that’s fucked. Known each other your whole damn lives and he still couldn’t post up for you. That’s crazy. You’re way too beautiful to be treated like that.”

“I know,” you said dryly.

“Nah, sorry, sorry,” he said, winking. “I don’t mean it, like, to flirt with you. Promise.” You raised an eyebrow and he laughed. “Okay, only a little.” He sobered up, rubbing his hands together. “Still. Must be hard. Can’t even have that separation.”

You hummed. “No, we did. After the break up for like a month I didn’t talk to him. Avoided all our mutual friends, the whole bit. But then I remembered how much I fucking loved him regardless of our relationship. The…the issues that we had were…I didn’t leave him because I didn’t love him. I left him because I couldn’t keep enabling him. Remembered I didn’t want to lose that. So, like…I started to talk to him again. He was making genuine…good steps toward being a better man. One that he claimed would be worthy of me or whatever. But then five months ago or so he just…stopped talking altogether. Wouldn’t answer a phone call, text…nothing. So I just…took the hint. Next thing I knew I was getting a call from a fucking MTV producer. And now here I am. Talking to you.”

“You want him back?” the guy asked curiously. You glared half-heartedly at him. “No, no. I’m just asking because I fully plan to hook up with Thalia tonight, I ain’t gonna lie to you. So I’m just saying that door’s gonna be open.”

“All I want from him is to know why he went on a dating show and dragged me into it,” you corrected. He smirked at your side and you held up a hand in warning. “Don’t you say a damn word. What was I gonna do? Say no to a free Hawaiian vacation? Fuck that. I’m gonna stay here and enjoy myself.”

“Then go home to eat a metric ton of ice cream and cry, right?” he asked casually.

“Fucking Christ, dude we just met!” you said. “Why you dragging me like I’m the one dating your ex?”

He laughed. “Oh, no, baby girl, I’m gonna be dragging your ex. You? I’m just teasing,” he said.

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes. “I mean, hey, feel free,” you said, inclining your head.

That seemed to end the conversation between you both. Just in time, it seemed because a producer then came and started herding the group around like cattle. Each of the exes was briefly obsessed over by assistants who made sure our outfits—ones they chose, of course—hair and makeup were all perfect. Only when everyone was set were you approached by another production assistant.

“Alright listen up!” the stern-looking young woman called. “We’re going to be sending you out in pairs. So whoever your ex is matched with currently is who you’re going to be going out with. We’re sending you out and leaving a minute gap between to get the reactions of the contestants. The plan is to send you out in order from the newest matches to the longest matches.” She glanced down at the clipboard in her hands. “So first we have the newest match Amelia and Jacques, so…Jordan and…also Jordan line up.”

You watched as male Jordan and female Jordan stood next to each other. On and on it went. Ten couples called before you. You felt your hand trembling at your side with unexpressed emotion and you drummed at your thigh in an attempt to stop it. Ten couples called before you.

“I told you they were together, gorgeous, didn’t I?” Alex whispered in your ear as you stood side to side.

“Last couple, and the longest…Rafe and Thalia,” she said. The words stung and settled in your stomach like lead. Your feet moved you into the line at the end before she’d even finished saying yours and Alex’s name. Alex stood next to you, his hand brushing the small of your back, bringing you back down to the moment, snapping out of the distraction. “Alright. From the top. First two, my Jordans, you’re out in two minutes. I’ll be right back to get you.”

“How you feeling hearing that?” Alex whispered to you. “It’s been six weeks in that fucking house and they’ve been together like all of it. I’m fucking pissed.”

“I don’t know why I came here,” you admitted after a moment.

He barked out a laugh. “Well, too late to back out now,” he said dryly.

“Yeah,” you whispered. You folded your arms across your chest watching as the first group was taken out then the next then the next then the next. Abruptly after the last before you were taken out, you looked to Alex. “Do I look okay?

“What?” he asked, surprised.

“Do I look okay? I can’t walk out there if I don’t look okay,” you replied anxiously, wringing your hands in front of you.

He looked you up and down grinning. “You look super fucking hot. Don’t worry about that,” he said easily, slinging his arm around your shoulder, jostling you gently as if you were lifelong friends and hadn’t met two hours earlier. “Now buck up, gorgeous. We gotta get our game faces on. We gotta go.”

As if summoned by his word, the production assistant came back for you two gesturing you two out into the fray. You kept your face carefully neutral, noting Alex doing the same at your side. You exited, eyes doing anything but looking in the direction of the contestants. You moved onto the pedestal where the other exes were, Alex’s hand touching your lower back as you both moved up. You gave him a half-smile, recognizing the reflexive protective gesture. You could feel burning stares on you and you hated it. Evidently, someone didn’t like that.

Eventually, having no other choice, you turned your eyes towards the contestants. The first place your eyes fell was on a taller woman, with perfectly tanned skin, gorgeous dark hair that practically hung to her ass, and—speaking of her ass, boy did she have a good one. Thalia. You could tell because your eyes drifting just to her side was your Rafe. No. Just Rafe. Her Rafe, actually. He looked relatively at ease by his posture. But, both of them were glaring at you and Alex.

“So,” came the voice of the host. “All of the exes are here.”

MTV had managed to bag Jeff Probst of all fucking people. Appropriate, you supposed considering that the show was modeled after Survivor in that there are competitions and voting involved. Much lower stakes all around, physically at least. Everyone nodded at Jeff’s words and you couldn’t help but try to pretend you were on the Survivor jury instead of standing here in this objectively awful situation. There was a low murmur from the contestants’ side. But, on the opposite platform, everyone was silent.

“Wow…pretty silent here,” Jeff commented. “Especially considering I know how loud all of you can be on days like this.” He looked pointedly over at the contestants. “So…how are we feeling? What’s it like seeing your exes standing here looking at you as you stand next to who you hope to be your perfect match?” He made a point of looking over at us and then back to the contestants. “Thalia, why don’t you tell us how you’re doing with all this.”

The girl next to Rafe took a dramatically deep, shaky breath. You watched as Rafe’s hand moved to her back, rubbing it soothingly. He looked down at her, a soft sort of look in his eyes and you felt nauseous in a way that you didn’t expect. You carefully steadied your breathing and focused your gaze just past them. She took a moment, turning towards Rafe and murmuring something that you were sure the mic packs on them could pick up even though you couldn’t hear it. You watched as Rafe replied quietly and then pressed a quick kiss to the side of her head.

It spiked your fucking blood pressure.

“Thalia,” Jeff prompted.

“Sorry, Jeff,” she said, a sugary sweet voice watery and wavering. “It’s just…it’s hard. To see him. And to see her too, honestly. I mean…I mean knowing what he did to me. Knowing what she did to Rafe. Hell, knowing what everyone else’s exes were like too…this just…it’s awful, honestly. We’re here to try and move forward and still somehow it feels like all we’re doing is sliding back.” She fanned at her eyes.

“You seem really upset,” Jeff said, nodding. “How does it…how is it that the mere presence of your exes could cause this much stress for you? Do you not have confidence in your relationships? Do you think this is going to cause problems…have the cracks started to show?”

“Fuck no!” Thalia snapped. “I just don’t want to even see this bitch. I don’t want to see her even fucking breathe in Rafe’s direction. I don’t want her ass to even speak on him. I know that the way she treated him and it doesn’t matter how fucking pretty she is on the outside I know what an ugly, horrible, frigid ass bitch she is on this inside! I don’t need that fucking energy around and Rafe sure as shit doesn’t! It’s not my fault she fumbled and lost him! He’s a fucking catch and I’m not gonna act like I’m not glad about it. He’s my man now and she’s just gonna have to deal with it. That’s it. The end. I don’t fucking care! I don’t want to see her stupid ass face.” She scoffed. “And you know me, Jeff. I’ll fucking beat someone’s ass if they fuck with the people I love.”

You didn’t particularly care about the girl’s words. You didn’t know her. She was an attention-starved brat…or rat if you were going to give in to the more malicious thoughts in your mind. She wanted to be famous…as famous as you could get from trashy reality TV, at least. Her words didn’t matter. Rafe’s reaction certainly did though. He just clenched his jaw and looked up towards the sky and then cast his eyes down. Still, his hand stayed on her back, rubbing it soothingly. That boiled your blood, admittedly. And, it seemed that the girl’s words actually pissed off Alex more.

“Watch your fucking mouth, Thalia. God, you don’t even know her,” he said snappily.

“Oh, and you do? You don’t fucking know her or the shit she’s done. Don’t even talk to me,” she snapped back in reply.

“Just like how these people don’t know all the shit that you’ve done!” he replied. He turned his eyes to Rafe. “And you? This girl? Who you claimed to love for years and years and years and have known like your whole life, what? You’re cool with some girl you met a month ago talking like that? The fuck is wrong with you, bro?”

“Don’t fucking call me bro,” Rafe said, a lazy, hard-edged smirk on his mouth and a glint in his eyes that displayed the carefully concealed rage just beneath the surface. “And you need to watch your fucking mouth coming in here talking like that to anybody.”

“Yeah, okay,” Alex scoffed, rolling his eyes.

Jeff cleared his throat. “Emotions are already running high,” he noted. He said your name, turning all eyes towards you. “You haven’t even said a word and yet you’ve been the center of attention since you came out here. So, what’s all this like for you?”

You hated the feeling of the lights and the eyes all on you. It made you want to twitch. Instead, you kept your face in a mask and shrugged. “Don’t particularly care,” you said blandly.

“Yeah because you’re an emotionless robotic bitch,” Thalia near-yelled.

“Thalia. Let’s let her talk,” Jeff said, his words a suggestion but tone a command. He turned back towards you, gesturing at you with his hand. “Please, go on. Tell us why you decided to come if you knew something like this might happen.”

You gave Jeff a saccharine smile. “Always wanted to visit Oahu,” you said, biting back the sarcasm that threatened to overcome you. The other exes laughed in amusement and agreement at the sentiment but sobered up when Jeff called us back to order.

“Nothing else? It didn’t have anything to do with a desire for closure? To feel like you had to warn someone else about Rafe? To see how you’d measure up to this potential new perfect match he has? These are just some of the reasons that exes on past seasons have given for their appearances,” Jeff pointed out.

“Nah, definitely not for closure…I don’t think this place is where you’d get something like that. You’d kind of be an idiot to try with some people, I’m sure,” you said. Then, you shrugged. “And I have no desire to warn other people about Rafe. Everyone’s got their own red flags and no one listens to advice anyways so there’s absolutely no point.” You hummed, lips twitching up for a moment then flattening out. “And yeah, I don’t care about whatever potential little…perfect match or whatever there is. I don’t compare myself to other people, even when they apparently desperately want me to. So…yeah, Jeff. It really just is the trip to Oahu. And hey? Who else were they gonna call for Rafe?”

Lies. Lies. Lies. Lies.

It was so much more than that.

You’d die before admitting it.

“Interesting,” he said. “And, not to make things uncomfortable. But let’s address the elephant in the room. You’ve looked at Rafe maybe twice since you came in here. What’s it like to be with him in a situation like this? What’s it like to have Alex next to you defend you from his own ex’s words all while Rafe doesn’t say anything?”

You let out a short laugh. “Yeah, I don’t usually stare at people, so I certainly don’t feel any sort of need to do so now. And I’m not particularly…surprised by him not defending me. It’s never been his style,” you said simply. You saw him tense slightly and roll his eyes but you ignored him wholly. You glanced over to Alex. “It was nice of Alex to defend me, I guess.” Thalia scoffed and you resisted the urge to launch yourself at her and punch her. You were better than that. You weren’t going to be the asshole here. It was going to be clear that it was her. You were determined. “But I’m a big girl. I can fight my own battles.”

Jeff nodded. “Well, you haven’t reacted to what most people here would consider a fight being brought directly in front of you. Thalia has made it extremely clear how she feels about you. She’s also made it extremely clear what the people in this house apparently think about your past relationship with Rafe. What do you say to all of that? Is that not worth fighting for?”

“That isn’t a fight,” you dismissed. “That’s people who don’t know me or the person that they’re getting…some form of information from. I don’t care how much trauma dumping you do in six weeks. You’re not gonna have a clue who you’re dealing with. I promise you that. So I don’t care what she’s saying at all—I’m never gonna have to see her again after this. I have people who care about me at home. I have people who know me. These people?” You look at all the participants and shrug. “No offense. I’m sure you’re all great in the real world. But you mean absolutely nothing to me. Your opinions mean less than nothing to me. Your opinions about me? Nothing. Your opinions about the relationship that I had with Rafe? Nothing.” You looked back to Jeff. “You want me to be honest, Jeff? I don’t think that the ‘fight’ being brought to me or whatever you wanna say is even worth this conversation.”

Jeff smiled and nodded at you. “One of the most mature responses that you could have in the face of someone being so openly hostile to you a minute after you even come out here,” he said. He looked over at Alex then. “And you, Alex? Do you feel the same?”

“Absolutely, Jeff,” he said, nodding. “I don’t know these people and I don’t care. They’re not why I’m here. But nah, unlike her I am gonna tell the facts of how Thalia is. Because I’m not cool with her walking around here acting like she’s a victim when she knows damn well she isn’t one.” He scoffed. “And knowing that she’s potentially a match with her ex or whatever? I’m sure she feels at least a little the same.”

“What do you mean by that?” Jeff coaxed.

Alex shook his head. “Just saying, Jeff,” he said vaguely. “I’m not gonna get into it yet. That’s for me and them to talk about later.” The nebulous reference clearly being either Rafe or Thalia…maybe even you. You truly didn’t care about that.

“Fair enough,” Jeff said. He clapped his hands together and turned his body towards the participants. “Now, Rafe…you’ve been very quiet so far today since you found out what was going on tonight. What’s going on in your mind?”

Rafe was silent for a moment. You watched as Thalia turned her body towards him placing her hand possessively on his stomach, stroking it as if trying to be soothing and missing the mark entirely. He didn’t spare her a glance. You could tell he was overwhelmed to some level and his brain was shutting down, only letting him focus on one thing at a time. You could see it in the slightly dazed expression and the pinched turn of his eyes.

“I don’t know Jeff. It’s always hard to see people who meant the world to you and then just…didn’t anymore,” Rafe said vaguely. You actively had to remind yourself to keep breathing evenly so your breath wouldn’t hitch in your throat at his words. “I mean, like, for all of us. These are people who were important in our lives somehow. They’re representations of problems we have in dating. All that. So yeah, it’s like seeing…I don’t know…your mistakes personified for a lot of us.”

You couldn’t help but recoil at that slightly, taking a half-step back like you took a physical blow. The words seemed to register with the rest of the crowd. Murmuring happened on both sides, some of disapproval of his words, some of approval of what he’d said. You took a deep breath, making your face neutral when you felt a girl next to you wrap her arm around your waist. You took the opportunity to use it to ground yourself, wrapping your hand around hers in turn. As much as you hated that you needed it, the support was appreciated.

“Wow,” Jeff said. He glanced at you, saying your name, and then back to Rafe. “Do you think she’s a mistake, Rafe?”

“She taught me a lot about myself,” Rafe said. “And I’ll always appreciate that. But not all relationships are supposed to last. Some of them are just to help us learn more about what we want in a relationship and nothing else.”

“You didn’t answer the question,” Jeff prodded. “Do you categorize your relationship with her as a mistake?”

Rafe looked at you and you met his eye head-on, refusing to be impacted.

You could tell what the answer was going to be before he even opened his mouth.

“Yes,” he said steadily. Immediately, he looked away.

You felt like someone had reached into your chest and tore your heart out. You were suddenly glad that your hand was wound around the girl so no one would see how you were shaking. Your face you could control. Even your tears. But your hands? No. All you wanted now was to go back to your room and call Topper and tell him that you were going to crash with him in Kona sooner than you planned. Crying to your best friend for comfort was the only thing that would even potentially work. But that would have to wait until the night was over. You would be strong until then. You had to.

The muttering amongst the groups on either side grew louder once again. You kept your brain fuzzy and uninvolved, not letting yourself sink into the sticky discomfort of your feelings that would swallow you and encase you in pain like a fly in fucking amber. You couldn’t do this. Not right now.

“And how does that feel?” Jeff said, the question directed at you. “Hearing Rafe call your relationship a mistake? What’s that like for you? Do you feel it’s a fair representation of the relationship you had with him?”

You paused for a moment, looking towards the ground and then back up, a fake smile turning your lips upward. “Well, I’ve known Rafe more or less my whole life. He had a real temper on him when we were younger. So, it’s nowhere near the worst thing that Rafe has called me,” you said. “And besides, he can call me whatever he wants. It’s his right—we live in a free country, right? Whatever. I’m sure that there are things that I’d call him too if I thought it’d make me feel better.”

“And what are those?” Jeff asked, eager to hear some rebuttal from you, clearly.

“Nah. I’m not doing that,” you dismissed. “I feel no need to say that shit. It’s useless.”

Drug addict. Cokehead. Alcoholic. Asshole. Entitled. Liar. Petty. Mean. Fucking mistake. Those were just a few of the descriptors that came to mind.

“Alright. Let’s move on then,” Jeff said, neatly moving the conversation away from you, looking at the girl who had pulled you to her side in a show of support and was still. “Valeria, I see you here with your arm wrapped around her. Supporting her when you met her less than a few hours ago, really. In a show of support that, sometimes, we don’t even see from our own contestants. You hear her ex-boyfriend say something you deem hurtful and you immediately step in to be kind to her. That’s something that I doubt just anyone would do. Clearly, you’re a person who cares deeply about others. What’s it like to see Patrick, a man you loved, in a situation like this where he’s putting love and attention into others?”

“Well, Jeff. I just think it’s a shitty thing to do. You don’t talk about people you loved like that. Not if you really loved them. Because if you and your new girl or whatever are gonna gang up on her that’s fucked. So I’m gonna step in. As for Pat? He’s always been a very…free-spirited person with his affections. That was never gonna change. So…I sincerely hope he can find some form of happiness,” the girl said easily, the words falling off her tongue while she continued rubbing your back.

The conversation portion with the whole cohort of participants felt fucking endless considering you knew it would take up less than ten minutes of an episode. But, eventually, it mercifully was coming to an end. You could tell Jeff was winding it down, wrapping it up, and ready to move on. But, then he hit you with a curve ball.

“Now, for the true purpose of today: communication. You’ve all matched up for this week. You and your potential match are going to sit and spend two hours with your exes. You’re all going to have a conversation getting to know each other,” Jeff said. “Spend some time actually getting to know each other. Talk about the problems that you had in your failed relationships. Talk about the things that worked. The things that you admired.” He gestured towards Rafe. “Or the things that you feel made the relationship a mistake. This is going to be a game changer in terms of figuring out if you’re a perfect match or not. We only have two couples that you haven’t locked in yet. Just two couples you assume are perfect matches, and even them we don’t know. So? Pay attention. This could be one of the last obstacles between you and one million dollars. After that? You’ll spend an hour talking to your ex. Alone. Try to have a meaningful conversation. Then? You’re going to spend the night, all of you, all of your exes, partying poolside. Take the time then to talk to other exes of people who might otherwise be your perfect match. Make it a good night.”

Your blood felt like it had turned to ice in your veins. You had to spend an hour talking to her and to him. Well, at least you’d have Alex with you, you supposed. But, it still was terrible. This felt, frankly, like a heinous punishment that you didn’t deserve. You forced yourself to appear unmoved.

“I know we’re all excited,” Jeff said. He clapped his hands. “So let’s do this. Let’s split you all up.”

The director called cut then, and the atmosphere changed. Only slightly. The participants all relaxed marginally, posture loosening. But, the exes all remained tense. Valeria rubbed your shoulders next to you. “You okay?” she asked. “That was shitty to say.”

“I’m good,” you said, nodding. You gave her a weak smile. “Thank you though. It was super nice of you. I appreciate it.”

She nodded. “I meant what I said. No one deserves that,” she said. “Good luck with your conversations. They both seem real fucking peachy keen to be around.”

You bit back a laugh but Alex, evidently listening, didn’t bother. He laughed openly. “Yeah. Definitely gonna be a fun few hours for us for sure,” he agreed. He winked at you then. “Promise I’ll try to not fight your boy, gorgeous. But if he runs his mouth like that, I’m gonna shut him up.” He playfully tapped your chin, tilting your head up for a second. “And do shut Thalia’s shit down. She has no right to be talking. And I know she’ll just be running her fucking mouth.” You nodded jerkily, not wanting to even comment on it.

Eventually, you were all ripped apart. You were given a brief rundown of the hour and how long you’d actually have cameras on you, where they’d be, hard conversational limits, and everything in between. They set it up so that you’d be in a room with only cameras set up, not operated by cameramen. It would just be you four. God fucking help you all.

“It’s gonna be fine,” Alex said, trying to offer some form of comfort, his hands folded across his chest as he sat back on one of the couches. Rafe and Thalia were about to be brought in and you both were stressed in different ways. And all you could think about was the cameras set up around the room, recording every last piece of this.

You simply nodded, unable to speak. You felt in your bones that this was going to be absolutely fucking awful. But you’d play nice. You’d pretend you didn’t want to scream. You were surprised, however, when Thalia and Rafe entered the room. Thalia walked in, with a smile on her face, and plopped down on the couch across from Alex and you, throwing her feet up with ease. Rafe followed behind, sitting next to her, letting her practically lay over him.

It was gonna be a long fucking two hours.

An even longer night after that.

Fuck, this was a mistake.

“What the fuck are you two doing here?” she demanded.

You didn’t even flinch at her harsh tone. You were working extraordinarily hard to not react with malice to her stupid words or her earlier actions. It was honestly hard. The silence on your part seemed to only serve to anger her more. You didn’t react to her anger and instead stared blankly at her. Alex, next to you, clenched and released his jaw, openly rolling his eyes at her.

“You really don’t get what’s going on here, do you?” she asked rudely. Still, you offered no response and she shook her head disdainfully at you and Alex. “I really don’t care what you and Rafe are or what you do today. You don’t mean shit to me. And at the end of the day? I know where his priorities are now. One day wouldn’t change that.” You tilted your head, still looking at her as if watching paint dry. “You’re not gonna fuck up a million dollars for the people in this house.”

Unable to help it, Alex barked out a laugh. “Fuck, they get Jeff in as a host and suddenly you think this shit actually is Survivor, huh? Fucking crazy,” he said, rolling his eyes. “None of the exes give a fuck about the people you’re with. Or your stupid ass game or any of you, actually.”

Thalia smirked at that. Your hands twitched with the urge to strike her, but you stifled it. “Oh, I definitely believe that,” she cooed, mocking.

“Thals,” Rafe said, sounding tired.

“Baby,” she said immediately, voice fake and innocent. You wanted to scream. Rafe said nothing further. Thalia set her eyes on you then. Her eyes were hard and calculating. “You especially. No one wants you here.”

You leaned back, folding your legs in front of yourself. You crossed your arms and drummed your fingers against your arm. “In what world do you think that I care what you want?” you asked dryly.

Thalia scoffed. “You’re such a cold, heartless, inconsiderate bitch,” she spat.

“Wow, those words mean so much from someone who doesn’t know me at all,” you said, rolling your eyes. “Aren’t you supposed to be filling some stupid little challenge now so you can try to get a million dollars for everyone in this house who probably doesn’t need it?”

“You’re just mad that you,” she tried.

“That’s where I’ll stop you,” you drawled, leaning sharply forward. “Shut the fuck up. You sure run your mouth a lot for someone who I am sure is just desperate to be painted as a victim when the editors go through and make their little arts and crafts project with their footage. And that’s all fine and well and good. Really, sweetie, oh I’ll be rooting for you. I will. But, here’s the thing. My emotions? My life? All that? Not for fucking you. And not for a fucking camera.” You gave her a cold smirk, leaning back again. “Far be it from me to make your boyfriend’s mistake worse, right? So you keep your fucking hands to yourself and you stop running your mouth like you’re hard and we won’t have a fucking problem tonight. Then? We never have to see each other again.”

“This is so fucked,” Alex said. He cleared his throat, eyes leveling on Rafe, interrupting the conversation between you and Thalia. “So, you a cheater too just like her, bro? Or are you just gonna be the next guy she tosses aside?”

Rafe’s jaw clenched. “Don’t fucking talk to me,” he warned.

Alex cut his eyes over to you. “See that’s why I said I’d drag your fucking ex, gorgeous. Because this guy? Something ‘bout his face just…pisses me the fuck off.”

“Don’t you fucking dare,” Thalia snapped.

“Thalia,” Rafe said, voice sharp. “Don’t make this harder.”

“Oh?” Thalia demanded, rounding on him. “Is this hard for you?” She was sneering at him now in a way that set your teeth on edge. Something about the way she spoke to him reminded you of Rafe’s dad. And suddenly this match made you feel physically ill in a completely different way than it had before. You looked away, hand clenching around your knees. “Well, I’m just so sorry about that, Rafe. How dare I have emotions! I really must be the issue, huh!”

You glanced over at Alex. “She talk to you like that a lot?” you asked him bluntly.

“She don’t know how to talk without being a bitch,” Alex said icily. “And evidently that hasn’t changed.” You bit your tongue to keep from saying well then neither has Rafe’s self-esteem or trauma responses. Alex snapped his head back over to the other pair. “Hey, good to know you haven’t learned how to talk to someone else if you’re so highly evolved Thalia.”

That, for whatever reason, seemed to set off the volatile girl more than she already had been. She looked about ready to launch herself at Alex. Seeming to recognize this, Rafe grabbed her arm gently as if to refocus her. It was something that he’d done to you a fair few times when you’d been together and someone had done something particularly aggravating and you needed to calm down. This proved to be a…bad move. Thalia did indeed refocus. All of her rage onto Rafe, that is. The second that you saw her slap him, though? It was your turn to see white.

You weren’t fully connected to your body as you moved, reacting to the sight. You were on your feet, physically dragging her by her stupidly long hair off of Rafe and throwing her away from him. She seemed stunned that you’d done that. She then seemed pissed you’d done that. So, naturally, her stupid self tried to rush you. Again, you pushed her back, getting closer and closer to being willing to actually hurt her.

“You wanna fucking run that again, princess?” you demanded icily. “Try to hit me, bitch. I’ll fucking hit back I promise you that.” You got closer, glowering at her, practically eye to eye. “You been fucking throwing hands at him? I know that wasn’t the first fucking time? You get off on this shit?” It had been easy to spot the punch she tried to throw. It was even easier still to deflect the punch shoving her far harder. “Try that again and I’m gonna fucking lay your ass out so help me fucking God.”

“Thalia.”

This time the word came from Alex. The word was flat and unimpressed. A quick glance over at him showed a largely disappointed look on his face. And somehow, seeing that seemed to be enough to force Thalia to get a fucking grip. She stopped, slumping back and sulked, walking over to sit down next to Alex. You watched, genuinely disgusted, as she laid her head against Alex’s shoulder and he let her. And when she burst into ugly, blubbering tears you weren’t surprised, but you were angry.

You clenched and unclenched your first three times trying to will yourself to relax some. But, nothing was working. You took a deep breath once…another…another…and another ten times still before you were able to look over at Rafe. He sat there, face pale and eyes cast down. You moved on auto-pilot, the kind of thing that used to be second nature and innate but now felt more…disjointed…forced. You laid your hand softly on his wrist so he’d notice it before moving your hand up to his shoulder. You squeezed it in a pattern of three and his head slowly moved up. He looked at you, dazed and you didn’t know if you were more angry or sad for him, really.

“Stand up,” you said quietly. He looked confused. You clarified. “You’re not staying in this room with that fucking lunatic. And Rafe…I swear to God don’t fucking argue with me on that. You’re lucky I didn’t break her fucking nose. Let’s go.”

Seemingly in a daze, he rose. You cast a look over towards Alex as Rafe followed like a shadow over to the door. You glared at the other man and he gave a half-hearted frown of apology as if he’d expected something like this to happen. That didn’t make anything better. So, you simply shook your head and turned again. You yanked the door open and let Rafe walk out first, face still drawn. You shut the door quietly behind yourself and laid your hand gently on his bicep before gesturing him down the hall. We found not a producer or even an assistant first but instead, Jeff fucking Probst who looked startled to see us.

“You’re supposed to be,” he began.

“I’m supposed to be beating a bitch’s ass for putting her fucking hands on him like some little—” you cut yourself off. You cleared your throat. “Sorry. Forgive me. Thalia fucking hit him. Doesn’t seem like it’s the first time. So if I were you? I’d go ahead and get her the fuck out of here before I call my dad who works in entertainment law and let him tear this piss-poor production apart. And feel free to tell production I said that.”

Jeff winced. “I understand,” he said. He looked at Rafe. “I’m…I’m terribly sorry that happened. That hasn’t happened before as far as I’ve been told. There are mental health staff in the bungalow attached to the house. Go there. I’ll explain everything. Some people will stop by to talk later though, I’m sure.”

“Good,” you replied sharply in place of Rafe who still wasn’t speaking.

Following Jeff’s advice, you shepherded Rafe towards that bungalow where a kind woman gestured you two in before leaving to go get some…paperwork? Who the fuck knew? Who the fuck cared? You looked over at Rafe who was still silent, face pinched. It wasn’t hard to see his leg slightly shaking and the jittering of his hands.

“I hate knowing that wasn’t the first time and that you’d deny it to protect her,” you said bitterly. “Rafe you don’t know her. And you deserve better than that. Just like you always have.”

“I don’t,” he said, his voice coming out short and quiet. “I don’t deserve anything good.”

You pursed your lips and shook your head. “Thought we’d moved past the self-deprecating bullshit,” you commented. “My mistake.” You sighed. “Rafe…your family and friends all love you still. Even now. So don’t waste…your heart on shit like this. Fuck this show. You can afford to break whatever contract you had. Hell, my dad could find a loophole and sue for you I guarantee it. But you…you can’t stay here. You…you deserve good things. And that? That…person...who they’re trying to call your perfect match?” He stayed silent. “You got matched with her because fundamentally you still find yourself in the same place that your dad wanted you to be. You think that you owe everything to everyone else and don’t want to take responsibility or…ownership over anything. For fuck’s sake, Rafe. Do you really want her to be your spokesperson? You want anyone like her to be your spokesperson?” You shook your head vehemently. “You are so much better than that. I don’t…I don’t know if you can see it. I don’t care if you can see it. But it’s true. You threw away a year of sobriety and years of building real self-confidence and not your fake bravado bullshit for this?”

“No you don’t understand,” Rafe said. “I am sober. And I didn’t want–”

The door to the bungalow opened and the woman bustled in, hands absolutely full of stuff. You rose to your feet before the woman even had to open her mouth to tell you to leave. “Cast only,” she said anyway, uselessly.

“Yeah, right,” you said dryly.

“Wait…where are you going?” Rafe asked, face breaking open into vulnerability for a moment.

“Home,” you said shortly. “Worst vacation…ever.” He looked hopelessly confused at that news. “You should call my dad, Rafe. Like now. You are not supposed to go through this shit alone. You know he’ll help you. You have his number.”

“I can’t…they…I don’t have my phone,” Rafe muttered, looking away from you.

Your eyes darkened. “Fuck’s sake these people,” you muttered. You took your phone from your pocket and called your dad before the woman across you could say a word. You gave your dad a curt explanation and he said he’d be in Hawaii in ten hours before briefly chewing you out for not saying where you were going beforehand.

“You can’t leave,” the woman said. “We need to—”

“Don’t care, didn’t ask, go through my fucking lawyer,” you said sharply, handing her your father’s business card. You glanced at Rafe. “He’ll be here in ten hours. Most likely super pissed. So…he’ll raise hell for you.”

“Are you…” Rafe trailed off. You raised an eyebrow. “Will you…stay?”

Your heart shattered and healed and shattered again in an ugly, impossible sort of way. “I…” you tried, trailing off immediately. “You…” Still no luck. Eventually, you were able to settle on, “I need to leave. I need to go home. I…I can’t fucking be here. I can’t see…this. I can’t hear…whatever you’re gonna tell my dad. I can’t see whatever footage he’s gonna have them dredge up. I need to go. Home.” You looked at him, letting out a shaky breath. “And you should consider doing the same thing. As soon as humanly possible.”

Your name spilled from his lips and it sounded so right and so wrong in that moment. “I…I’m…” he tried, voice breaking.

“No,” you denied, giving him a bitter smile. “Don’t. I don’t…I don’t want to hear it, Rafe. I really don’t. I wasn’t going to see someone hurt you. I never have. I never will. But facts are facts right?” His face fell, knowing what you meant. “And I’m a mistake. Let’s not drag it out any longer, right?” You shook your head. “Good luck, Rafe. I…wish nothing but the best for you.”

“I didn’t…” Rafe tried. “I can explain.”

“No,” you denied, holding a hand up. “I can’t do this. Not here. Not now. I’m…done with this. With all of this. Truly.” You let out a devastated-sounding, sad sort of sigh and offered an obviously fake tiny smile. “Just let me know when my dad gets here—you know he’ll forget to.” He went to speak and you held up a hand. “He’ll get your phone back if these psychos don’t give it to you by then.”

“I will,” he said immediately in reply, a sad, almost puppy-dog-like look in his eyes.

You sighed, biting back the urge to cry or scream…or anything else really. “You know what? Never mind. Call Topper. I…just…just let him know. He’ll tell me,” you said, voice going numb.

“Wait,” Rafe said, his voice shaky. “I…I want to tell you.”

“Rafe…please,” you said, giving him your best pleading look and more than willing to beg him if it meant he’d give you a break.

“I…okay. I…I’m sorry,” he said, frowning, looking genuinely remorseful.

As you started to leave, rage somehow carrying you as the influx of adrenaline faded, your name fell from Rafe’s mouth once more. You turned your head to look at him, silent and waiting. It took a few moments for him to crack. The time lingered, settling into crevices of yourself that long seemed gone—abandoned and disappeared with Rafe’s own missing presence. Yes, this was too hard already and the situation had just made it impossible.

“Get home safe,” he said, his voice breaking.

You let out a bitter laugh turning back around and heading out, refusing to turn your head. You knew that if you were to look back you’d cave immediately. And you couldn’t do that.

“You too, Rafe,” you offered blandly.

224 notes · View notes

runariya · 2 months

Text

One-Shot: A Sip Of Eternity (JJK)

pairing: vampire!Jungkook x f!reader genre: vampire!AU, coffee shop!AU, yandere-ish? idrk warnings: foul language, obsession, mentions of blood and ripped out organs, death, hunger, feeding off humans and animals, throwing up, Jungkook doesn't know what hit him, reader is sus, allusion of abuse, lmk if I forgot something word count: ~ 4.370

a/n: okay...I know I said I'm taking a break from writing while mini-me and I are down with sickness BUT hear me out....those fever dreams...uffff👀....I just had to write it down somehow. It's not edited and I think it's a bit jumbled up at places-sorry for that. I'll think about rewriting it, when I'm at full capacity again. Until then, have fun reading👀

a/n 2: This work is purely fictional. All characters and events are entirely imaginary and do not reflect reality. Please do not use this story as your own. No translations are allowed without permission. Thank you for understanding! 💕

🎵K.Flay - High Enough🎵 Do you see anyone other than me? Baby, please I'll take a hit of whatever you got Maybe two, maybe three Oh, you're phenomenal, feel like a domino, fall to my knees I am a malady, you are my galaxy, my sweet relief, oh, oh, oh

Thursday morning

It has been 811 years, 296 days, 13 hours, and 49 minutes since he was turned. 811 years, 296 days, 13 hours, and 49 minutes far too long, too boring, too repetitive. Jungkook has seen it all. He’s done it all. But this little human right in front of him? No, you’re new. Exciting, even.

He’s been the chief of this city for half his immortal life, running a cafe for his kind, invisible to anyone else.

So why on earth did a human find its way in here? And why do you smell so, so delicious?

“Back off or you’re dead” Jungkook growls in his head. The other vampires stop immediately, no longer ready to pounce. Knowing they don’t stand a chance against him, they only watch.

“Hello,” you say shyly, with the softest smile he’s ever seen.

“Good morning.” He scans your hands, looking for a wedding band, but your fingers are empty. “Miss.”

You flush, your heartbeat picking up. You’re cute, he thinks. So innocent.

“I said back the fuck off!” His voice booms, snapping the other vampires out of their trance. “What can I get you?”

“I’m new here…I mean in town…and here at this coffee shop, obviously…so…ehm…could you…if it’s not a bother…recommend something?” You stutter, your heartbeat now through the roof. Calm down, he thinks.

“Sure. The crimson latte is the most popular.” Of course, it is; it’s full of blood.

“That sounds fancy.” You cringe. “I’d like one, please.” Your voice is so soft, like a feather drifting in the breeze.

“Coming right up.” Jungkook turns to the coffee machine. “Okay, listen here, you little shits. If anyone in this godforsaken city even looks her way, they’re getting staked. You hear me? Spread the news. This little human is mine.”

A chorus of acceptance of his command echoes in his mind. Looking over his shoulder, he sees you looking around, oblivious. You’re wearing a summer dress, its colour making your skin glow. Your hair is beautifully styled, and your makeup matches your style so effortlessly it’s making him a little breathless. Or maybe it’s your quick pulse; he isn’t sure.

Just as he reaches for the blood on the counter, his fingers halt. Idiot, he reprimands himself. Shaking his head lightly, he takes the strawberry syrup and pours it into your coffee. This will do, he thinks.

Turning around, he falters, seeing your blinding smile. Your eyes sparkle like the tutus he sees little girls wear.

You look so sweet. Would you taste the same? But he won’t do anything. Your poor, precious soul shouldn’t be harmed.

“Here you go, enjoy.” He says, and when your fingers brush his, he feels a jolt. Retreating his fingers instantly, he looks at you with wide eyes.

You’re also startled by his reaction, your eyes wide and full of apology as if he was repulsed by you, which is not true.

“Sorry…how much do I owe you?” Your voice is like tiny bells to his ears.

“No worries. It’s on the house.” Jungkook wants so badly to reassure you, to smile, but all he manages is a twitch of his lips.

Your gaze drops down to his lips, and he’s impressed and elated you noticed his attempt at smiling. When your breathtaking smile reappears on your lush lips, his dead heart sings. Or is it his thirst?

It doesn’t matter. Because when you leave, he’s sure he’ll never see you again.

Friday Evening

Jungkook can smell you before he turns. Why are you back again? He thought it was a coincidence you could enter yesterday. An error in the spell protecting his shop from human eyes. But two days in a row seems troubling.

“Hobi, go out, find a human and bring it before the shop. See if it sees us.”

“Yes, JK.”

You’re now standing directly behind him, the counter separating you both. You’re not even a minute into his shop, and your scent has overpowered every molecule in the air. His thirst burns in his throat. He needs to hunt tonight. Damn you. If it weren’t for your delicious blood, he would have held on for a week more.

Jungkook takes a deep breath to ground himself, but it’s the worst decision of his dead life. Your scent now clings not only to his skin but to every cell of his.

Nonetheless, he turns around. But now he’s not sure anymore if it’s your scent or the sight of you that’s more compelling.

Dressed in another flowy summer dress, you look like a goddess. A human goddess, he corrects himself.

“Hello again.” Your smile blinds him, and even though it’s as bright as the sun, it doesn’t burn him. Or does it? Because he feels excruciatingly helpless.

What should he say? What did you say? What time of day is it even? He’s not sure. He’s also not sure who he is. No, that’s a lie. He knows who he is. He’s a vampire, an old vampire. But why does he feel so basic beside you?

“Hello.” He hears the snorts of the other patrons in his head, and they all get a glare in return.

You turn around briefly, then look at him questioningly.

“The usual?” He needs to distract you.

“Oh. Yes, sure! This strawberry latte was soooo delicious. The best coffee I ever had. You must have magic hands or something. Really, when I finished it, I thought, ‘Wow, you need one more.’ And then I thought…” You trail off again, face flushing, heartbeat accelerating as if hunted down, but your eyes turn sad, and you stare at the counter. “Sorry.” Despite his inhuman hearing, he needs to strain to hear your whispered apology.

“I’m glad you liked it.” What’s wrong with him? Why is he consoling you? Argh, you’re so pathetic, Jeon. Whatever.

Jungkook turns around in a rush, starting to prepare your coffee. Your heartbeat now slows down second by second. And it’s nearly at normal when he pours the strawberry syrup in it.

Just as he’s nearly finished, your heart rate rises in panic. He turns around at that, seeing you take a step back from the counter. But you’re looking to your left. And as he follows your view, he sees why.

“Pete.” Jungkook’s voice is grave. Said man startles and looks him in the eyes, like a child caught doing something it shouldn’t. “Sit the fuck down.” And down he sits.

When Jungkook turns back to you, you look at him with wide eyes and mouth slightly open. But it’s not fear he sees in your eyes but pure admiration and respect.

He would be lying if he said he didn’t just now push his chest up a little more. And he would be lying if he said he felt more powerful than he does now.

He steps to the counter, this time placing your not-so-crimson latte on it. Again, your smile and gratitude throw him for a loop he can’t understand.

When you leave with a wave and the door falls shut, he takes off his apron and turns to Pete. A terrified Pete.

“Get up. Follow me.”

And both disappear through the back door, Jungkook the only one with a blood-dripping heart in his equally bloody hand coming back.

Monday Morning

The weekend was horrible. No, it was more than that. If there was a word for the hell he went through, Jungkook would send a thank you note to whoever invented it.

Friday night, Jungkook was starving, so he went for his hunt. At first everything went smoothly, as always; he lured a poor soul in, took a bite, but then everything went downhill. The blood tasted foul.

Thick like tar, bitter like coffee grounds—he threw the sip of blood up in an instant, coughing violently while pushing the human away. He couldn’t help but heave like a cat trying to throw up a hairball.

Saturday night, the same thing happened. Lure, bite, puke.

And guess what? Surprise, surprise, Sunday night was the same again.

So, when Monday morning came, and with it your positive, content, chipper self with your savory, inviting, toothsome blood—oh boy, Jungkook wanted to cry like a baby.

To suppress the growing hunger, he starts counting the seconds, but when you stand before him, and he knows you’d never have a chance if he wanted to taste you, he’s done.

So done that he starts smiling at you.

No, not a friendly "hey there"-smile. A grimace more fitting on the face of a psychopath. But where’s the difference between him and a psychopath, really?

You beam at him regardless, not phased at all. “Hey! Your smile suits you! Your teeth are so nice!”

Jungkook malfunctions at that. His face falls, and he rolls his tongue over his teeth as discreet as he can. Did he show his fangs by accident? No. Hm.

“Thank...you...?” He questions you more than really being grateful for the compliment.

“I’d like the usual, please.” The wide, happy smile just doesn’t leave your face.

He’s only able to nod, and again like routine, turning around and doing his job. Your scent makes his hands shake uncontrollably. He’s starving, his stomach squeezing uncomfortably. He waits a moment so he’s able to continue.

“She’s checking out your butt,” Hobi giggles.

“Shut up.” But he can’t help but flex his buttocks and thighs on purpose while shifting from one foot to the other. He stops abruptly, realizing his doings. Why is he like this? He sobs internally, this isn’t him.

Jungkook again starts counting the seconds, willing his hands to stop shaking again, but this time he just can’t.

When he looks over his shoulder, he catches you indeed checking out his butt. Your eyes snap up, locking with his. You’re clearly embarrassed, and your little heart starts pounding violently. No, please don’t.

He forces his eyes back to the coffee. It takes all his willpower to take the cup and hand it to you without spilling its contents.

You thank him, as always, with a smile more soothing than any high he’s ever experienced.

“See you tomorrow.” Your airy voice wraps around him, squeezing his airways tighter.

“Bye,” Jungkook presses out, barely able to gulp the saliva collecting in his mouth.

The air in the coffee shop turns still with your departure, and he’s finally able to breathe normally again.

Tuesday Morning

This time he sees you outside his shop through the windows. You’re looking up at the sign and with that your face lights up.

You enter, and Jungkook is already on edge. The way you navigate his shop, as if it’s a normal coffee place, unnerves him to the core. How do you keep finding this place?

“Hobi, did you check the spell again?”

“Yes, JK. It’s still intact.”

Your presence disrupts his thoughts again. His body reacts the same way it does every time you’re near: adrenaline courses through his veins, making his hands shaky and his hunger rise exponentially.

You approach the counter, your scent now a familiar, maddening presence.

“Good morning...” Your soft voice trails off, and he finds himself leaning closer to hear you better.

“I'm Jungkook. Hello.” He feels foolishly pleased at how natural his voice sounds while his insides are on panic mode. “The usual?”

“Yes, please. Your strawberry latte is the highlight of my day.”

He turns with a nod and prepares your drink. His dead heart stirs, and he chides himself for being affected by your words and presence. He’s a vampire, the vamp-chief of the city, not some lovesick human.

Wait. Stop. What? He’s not lovesick.

When he places the drink before you after he’s finished, your smile is radiant. “Thank you.”

He watches shocked as you find a seat, not leaving like the days before. His eyes narrow at any vampire who dares look your way. You are his. No one else must interfere.

And it’s 52 minutes later when you leave with a wave his way. But who’s counting?

Wednesday evening

Yesterday he tried to feed off of animals. It went as horrible as he expected. And when you didn’t show up today, he didn’t know if he’s euphoric from the break from you or dejected because you need a break from him.

So when the door chimes this evening, and there you are again, he doesn’t know how to feel nor react. Jungkook’s throat burns in an instant, his thirst intensifying to infinity. He considers closing the shop early, but your smile as you approach the counter makes him change his mind.

“Hi, Jungkook.” Your cheerfulness is infectious, despite his inner turmoil.

“Hi. The usual?”

“Yes, thank you.” You lean in closer, and he catches your scent full force. It’s torture and pleasure combined. Oh, what a beautiful drug you seem to be to him.

As he prepares your drink, he overhears a couple of vampires discussing you. His glare silences them instantly. No one must threaten you. Not while he’s here.

“Today’s been so busy, I’m sorry I didn’t get here sooner. Oh, what am I saying? I’m not your only customer. You’re clearly busy all day and probably didn’t even notice I wasn’t here.” You’re so cute, he wants to eat you. Literally.

“I’ve noticed” Your eyes meet his as he hands you the latte, and for a moment, he forgets to breathe. He can see your racing heart, all the veins zeroed into his sight. Your blood is being pumped furiously through your whole system. “Thank you, Jungkook.”

“Anytime…” His voice is softer than intended, startling him to the core. He needs to fucking feed.

You say your name in the lightest voice he has ever heard in all his centuries, and he thinks he might faint for some inexplicable reason.

After you've left, he's seconds away from murder when Hobi, sipping his actual crimson latte by the window, teases, “You’re so whipped.”

Monday Morning - One Week Later

Okay. So. You haven’t shown up since Wednesday evening.

By Friday, Jungkook ordered his subordinates to comb through the whole city to search for you and make sure you were fine. They came back empty-handed.

So, on Saturday, he did it himself.

On the positive side, he could feed on some stray cats. It still tasted like shit, but he managed to suppress the gag reflex.

On the negative side, he didn’t find you. Your scent is unique to him; he's sure he could find it in the middle of an overcrowded stadium, but for some unknown reason, he couldn’t trace it at all.

Thinking it had to do with the nauseating taste of the cats, he searched the rest of the weekend. Every corner, every nook of this shit hole of a city, but it was as if you had disappeared into thin air.

To say he’s surprised to see you enter his shop this morning would be an understatement.

You look drained. The colour and brightness he’s used to seeing you radiate are dull. Your face is sunken in, and your eyes lack their usual sparkle.

“Good morning, Jungkook.” Your voice sounds hoarse, void of the warmth he learned to yearn for in your absence.

“Where were you?” He didn’t mean for his voice to come out this grave, and he winces internally when you look startled and take a step back. “Sorry…”

“I... I needed to go back to... to my hometown for a couple of days. I…” Your pupils tremble, and Jungkook isn’t sure if you’re scared of him or what happened in your hometown. “I forgot some important stuff there... and... it was hard to come back here.”

You’re a riddle. He just can’t figure you out. But the person he sees before him isn’t the girl he got to know. Yes, he doesn’t know much about you, but he knows that this isn’t you—this is a shadow of who you can be.

“You’re regretting coming back?” He needs to know if your state is due to leaving your hometown or leaving this city.

So, when your eyes shine with a silver lining on your lower lash line, and your voice breaks in a barely audible hush saying, “No,” he knows he’s going to take matters into his own hands.

“Good you’re back then.” He stares into your eyes, a flicker of warmth returning at his words. “The usual?” A tiny nod from you is answer enough for him to prepare your latte.

“You heard her. Find this hometown and figure out what happened.” At that, three vampires rise from their seats and are gone within seconds as you look on curiously.

“Jungkook?” His hand halts mid-air as he’s just about to reach for the strawberry syrup, your small voice blaring in his every fibre.

He doesn’t move when you whisper, your voice oh so fragile, “Thank you.”

He stares at his hand, which still hovers mid-air. What should he do? What would be appropriate human behaviour? He doesn’t know anymore. He’s too far gone to know that after centuries of being this emotionless creature. But is he really that emotionless when his dead heart seems to stir since he met you? He isn’t sure anymore.

Nodding once, he hopes it suffices. And when he’s done with your cup and turns around, he knows it did. Because the small smile and gentle sparkle in your eyes are something he seems to reciprocate without wanting to.

“You’re an angel, thank you.” Both your hands gently take the cup out of his large one, brushing them so feathery and warm that it isn’t a jolt that runs through Jungkook’s body but a sparkle as bright and soothing as the light in your eyes when you gaze at him.

Tuesday Morning

When you enter today, you’re wearing cozy loungewear and carrying a book in one hand.

So adorable.

So when you step towards the counter, Jungkook can’t help but lean on it with his elbows to be closer to you. He takes a deep breath of your scent and he’s high again. Even though it amplifies his hunger, your scent has become his drug, and he can’t resist it anymore.

“Good morning, ___,” he hears himself purr, and when a chorus of laughs echoes in his mind, he really couldn’t care less. Because in his vision, there’s only you. He wonders, do you see anyone other than him, too?

“Hey, Jungkook. Lovely morning, isn’t it?” you chirp, now standing so close he can almost taste your blood on his tongue. The pulse at your neck calls his name.

“It’s quite buzzing,” he husks. If only you knew that it’s you who has him all buzzed. If he could just have a little taste...

“Is it okay if I stay in today? I’m off of work and it’s getting so lonely at my apartment…” You bat your eyelashes at him, and those tiny waves of air drifting into his face nearly make him fall to his knees.

“Of course.” He licks his lips, imagining the taste of you on them.

You look down at the motion. “Good,” you husk back, equally drunk on him, it seems.

“The usual?” Jungkook straightens, no longer able to be this close to you. A flash of disappointment washes over your face and he sees you retreating into yourself even more.

“Yes, please,” you say rather sadly, staring at the counter separating you.

As he pours the coffee into your cup, the door chimes.

“JK, we found out what happened,” one says breathlessly.

When he turns briefly, you look at the three vampires skeptically. All three are standing in the middle of the room, staring at Jungkook without saying a word.

“Hey guys, take your seats, I’ll be there in a minute.” Jungkook glares over your head at them. They seem to get the message and do as he says.

“Next time make it more obvious, will you?” The irritation oozes off him and he finishes your latte with more force than necessary.

When he turns around and sees you, still so innocently looking into his eyes as if he were a hero just for existing, his irritation vanishes instantly.

“Here you go, beautiful.” WHY DID HE SAY THAT?!

Your heart stops, then you turn as red as the blood in your veins, and your heartbeat hums as fast as a hummingbird’s. Please don’t die...

“Thank you.” You take your cup with shaky hands and stumble slightly to a free nook, sitting down and staring at the cover of your book until he hears your heart go back to normal.

He walks over to the three vampires who investigated what happened to you, and when they tell him what your uncle did to you again and again, he unleashes the beast he’s known for.

Hushed as the whole conversation, he orders with a sinister smile, “Go kill him and everyone who knew and didn’t do shit.”

The rest of the day he spends watching over you, bringing you more lattes on the house, and using every opportunity to stand near you.

At midday, you ask if he serves anything to eat, and even though he knows he doesn’t—well, for humans he doesn’t—he says he’ll bring you some pastry.

“Go to the bakery at the other end of the city and bring some cake as fast as you can,” he orders Hobi, who chuckles and shakes his head but goes immediately.

He’s back in a couple of seconds.

As Jungkook serves you the cake as if it were his, you thank him profoundly. “You take such good care of me.”

If he had blood running through his veins, he would blush. So he flees to the backroom to shred the packaging, destroying all evidence of his care for you.

Wednesday Morning

You enter the coffee shop again, wearing a beautiful dress, but your gaze is fixed on the phone you're clutching in your hand.

Like a puppet on autopilot, you stand before Jungkook, not once looking up.

"The usual, please."

Jungkook doesn't like this. Why aren't you looking at him? What's with you?

Did something happen again? "Are you alright?"

At that, you finally look up, startled like prey facing a predator. You're clearly in shock, and he's sure it's not because of him.

"He's dead," you mumble.

"Who?" He knows.

"My uncle." You sigh, a smile spreading on your face. Not your usual one, but one that's neither fully sinister nor relieved. A perfect blend, he concludes.

The darkness suits you.

"Oh, I'm sorry."

"I hope he rots in hell."

Jungkook snorts, and your loud laugh in response is music to his ears.

"So, the usual for celebration today?"

"Hell yeah!" You cheer, which earns you some agreeing laughs from the other patrons around you.

Your eyes sparkle more than ever.

Jungkook turns around, the euphoria in your veins too strong for him to ignore the hunger screaming inside him.

"I'm finally free. I can go wherever I want now," you muse behind him while Jungkook's heart drops to the cold, hard floor.

No. No, no, no. That was not the plan.

"Will you leave?" His nerves are over the roof, and even though his instincts urge him to drink you dry, he turns around to gauge your reaction.

"No." Your voice is determined, not any less euphoric than minutes ago. "I'm safe here, aren't I?"

There's a challenge in your eyes. As if you're aware of where you are, who he is, who you're with at the moment.

Jungkook cocks his head sideways, challenging back, "Are you?"

The glee on your face is replaced by the most unarmed look he has seen in his life. Your eyes drip with adoration and devotion when you say, "I'm safe when I'm with you."

"Leave. Now." He barks out, and while the coffee shop starts to empty, your delicate voice calls after them, "Yeah, please leave."

The room freezes, every vampire on high alert when they realise you could hear all they ever said to each other.

Jungkook watches you sharply, calculating the threat you might pose.

But when nothing seems suspicious or even dangerous, he nods to the others, and they fly out.

The silence between you and him hangs heavy, your heartbeat gaining in power and speed with every second.

"What are you?" Jungkook forces out.

Your eyes soften even more at him, tears collecting again at your lower lashes. "I don't know."

He knows you're telling the truth. So when your next words reach him, he can't hold back any longer.

"Please don't make me leave you."

Jungkook springs over the counter, embracing your tiny, fragile form in his arms. When your fingers cling onto his tall frame as if your life depends on it, and you turn your neck to offer him your carotid artery, he's a goner.

You're not only his new drug but also his only supplier.

"Please don't ever let me go."

Your words flutter against his whole being, intoxicating him further. And it's the squeeze of your tiny hand on his right bicep that unleashes him. He takes a deep breath of your scent and sinks his fangs into your neck.

You moan instantly, running your right hand through the hair on his neck.

You're it for him. He was right. You're fucking it for him. He'll never go back from you. Your taste invades his mouth, and every cell in his body sings with it. The buzz is so strong, he thinks it compares to a golden shot.

"I love you so much," you whisper, your hands running softly over his cold skin.

He retreats, high on you, pupils dilated, with a mouth smeared with your blood.

You look up at him with hooded eyes, the love and admiration pouring into his with every second.

It has been 811 years, 279 days, 15 hours, and 34 minutes since he started walking on Earth. 811 years, 279 days, 15 hours, and 34 minutes until he finally says the words for the first time:

"I love you."

__________________________________________

a/n 3: lmk what you think in any way you like! 💕 also - character asks and drabble requests are open

Like what you read? Check out my other work here!

32 notes · View notes

wisteria-winter · 4 months

Text

Pillowstatic, Lucifer's Commission

Inspired by @onesidedradiostatic 's #lucifer's commissions saga

Synopsys: The greatest artisan of hell gets one peculiar commission from one of the Vee’s.

Words: 3636

Started writing this a while back, it’s very much just one for fun. The characters might be a little more domestic, specifically the Vee’s

________________________________

CRASH

The sound of glass shattering spread through the room. Chards glistening on the floor like newly fallen snow. It was an accident. Valentino just lost his grip. It had all just slipped through his hand.

“This is the THIRD TIME! This month.” Vox screeches though his shaded screen. Anger clear, despite the distortions hiding his expressions. “If you keep forgetting the strap one more time, I’m not playing Wii with you guys anymore. Ever!”

“You said that last time too, Vox.” Velvette reminds, focusing more on her phone than whatever the two of them have going on.

“Well, this time I mean it! Do you know how annoying it is to replace my screen?”

“Oh. Don’t be like that Voxy, it was an accident.” Valentino tries, acting as harmless as he can.

“And YOU! I’m not talking to you, AND I’m removing your WiFi privileges until this is all fixed! How do you expect me to hold a conference looking like THIS!?” Vox retorts, pointing at his glitched out screen face, which had a clear indent where the remote had hit.

“Vox! How can you do that, to ME?! How do you expect me to work without WiFi?!” Valentino retorts, thinking only of himself.

“...” Vox isn't impressed.

Not getting a response he starts to work backwards with, “How about I get you something to make up for it? I could draw you a picture. Anything you’d like.” Trying to placate Vox, though he can’t really hide the contempt within, “Even if it’s the radio demon.” He really can’t understand Vox’s obsession with Alastor.

“Hmph. You did that the first time.” Vox has his back turned and arms crossed. He won’t give in that easily, not this time at least.

“How about a pinup? I’m sure it would...” Val gave a sigh, “look nice in your collection.” Dreaded river Styx, why is this the only thing that placates him?

Vox does perk up at the suggestion, but is quick to steady his resolve. “And you got that, the last time.” He says before crossing his arms again in annoyance. “And they forgot his antlers.” Like, how could they have forgotten his antlers? Did they not even look at the reference pictures? He- uhh- Sent a lot.

“Fine.” There is one thing that Vox doesn’t have, or rather, doesn’t have anymore, and he has been bugging them about it for quite some time. Valantino gives in and sighs, “What about a new body pillow?” he asks in the most monotone manner.

“Really!” Vox excitedly exclaims, uncrossing his arms and turning his face towards Val with glee, before realizing what he just did and going back to being stoic. “Yeah, I think that would suffice.” Though, glee and excitement are still present in his voice. Valentino gives the little dork a smile, despite how weird the circumstances might feel.

“Good. Then I’ll send the request to our merch department and see what they can do.” Valentino takes out his phone and starts writing something while mumbling under his breath that, “It shouldn’t be too hard to change an Angel picture to an Alastor one.” He then turns to Vox and asks, “What kind of-”

“I heard that! I’m not letting you create some sloppy half finished, inferior, mass-produced pillow. I want it to be an authentic, one-of-a-kind, high quality pillow that won’t rip at the seams and smells just like him.” Vox sounds exceedingly stern, why does the pillow mean so much towards him?

“Vox.”

“Okay, it doesn’t have to smell like him. But it has to be really good quality. There has to be an artisan that can make the best pillow in hell, right? Get that person.”

“Vox. What are you on about? What do you want me to do? Spend 50k just so you can get a nice body pillow of Alastor?” He says in disbelief. There is no way-

“Yes, exactly that.” He looks towards Valentino as smug as he can with his broken face. “Or else, no WiFi.”

“Ugh, fine. Do you want to commission them for the image too?” Val says with a dead tone, he has given up, given in, no use in fighting this stubborn brat when it concerns Alastor.

“Of course, it has to be special. Also, make sure that they don’t forget his antlers, and tell them that his hoofs are red and that the red claws are not gloves, but claws, just like mine and that his arms and legs start black at the tip then gradually melt into his skin. Oh! and don’t forget-” Vox rambles on, seemingly lost in thought.

Valentino just looks at him disapprovingly, wondering in a long whisper ‘w~h~y~?’. In essence, Val isn’t really looking forward to the coming conversation with the ‘best artisan in hell’, whoever that might be.

________________

Lucifer gets a phone notification. Ignoring everything in his surroundings, he takes his phone out and looks at whatever it may be. Huh.

“And here I thought you cared for dear Charlie's exercises.” Alastor says also ignoring the exercise and taking more interest in what Lucifer may be up to.

________________

A few moments before.

Charlie has assembled everyone for some team building exercises. There are some colorful balloons bouncing softly around her on the floor. The plan is to have a few exercises where everyone is in pairs. For the first part, the goal is to keep one balloon in the air for as long as possible, but you can’t touch it more than twice in a row.

“So then, Angel, who do you want to team up with?” Charlie asks, happy as always, making sure that their, now only, actually resident is comfortable playing.

“I’d like to go with Husk if that works.” Angel says.

“Yes! Sounds perfect! Husk?” Charlie responds, delighted over him showing engagement. This might actually be a really progressive day.

“Yeah, sure, works.” Husk agreed.

“Now then, Alastor?” Charlie then moves her attention to their one and only hotel manager. It would be nice if he participated more.

“I'd rather stay out of this one, wouldn’t want to accidentally pop one of your lovely balloons and ruin your diligent work.” He responds cleanly.

“You don’t have to worry about that, I have many more!” She says before stopping herself. “But I understand.” He’s already doing so much it doesn’t feel right to pressure him.

“Thank you dear.”

“Then Vaggie, does teaming up with Niffty work for you?”

“Yeah, but what about you?”

“Oh! Well, if Alastor won’t participate then we’ll have an uneven number of participants if I join, which wouldn’t work as-”

“I understand, it's alright, I’ll go with Niffty.” Vaggie gives her a soft smile, to which Charlie’s shines even brighter.

They all team up and get their balloons, though before they can start; Lucifer walks in and wonders what they are up to. He also positions himself between Alastor and Charlie as a small attempt to shield her from the sketchy and untrustworthy sinner.

“Dad, how about you join in?”

“I, sure, sounds like fun.” He answers, thinking he’d team up with Charlie for some father daughter bonding.

“Great! How about you team up with Alastor?”

“No.” They both respond in unison.

“Aww, come on. You two are always bickering, this could be a great opportunity to help you create some enjoyable memories,” Charlie says, wishing for everyone to be on friendly terms. “And it would mean a lot to me if you two were able to get along.” She ends, giving her dad some puppy dog eyes.

“Charlie...” Lucifer starts, not fully knowing what to say, before being interrupted by Alastor.

“Well, if it means so much for you dear, then I guess there is no choice than for me to join in the fun.” He says focusing on Charlie while approaching. “Though I guess that if the big boss himself doesn’t want to join, then I guess I’ll have to team up with you my dear.” He continues with a mischievous smile as he rests his arm on Lucifer like he’s a table.

“NO!” Lucifer retorts loudly, pushing Alastor off and away from him, letting the sinner fall to the floor, before composing himself. “I mean- I’ll join. I’d do anything for my sweet Char Char.” He tries to look at her softly, showing how much he cares. Though his expression quickly turns sour, seeing how she’s moved to Alastor’s side, helping him get up. Why does she care so much? Especially over a sinner who is clearly only bad news.

After helping Alastor up, she turns towards Lucifer. “Dad! This is exactly why we need the bonding exercises, what if you hurt Alastor?”

‘Why would I care about that?’ Lucifer thinks before answering absentmindedly. “He’ll survive, I didn’t even push that hard.”

Charlie just gives him a disapproving look.

“I told you I’d join.” He says defensively, why did it feel like she thought he was in the wrong?

“So, how are we to start, dear?” Alastor asks Charlie sweetly, ignoring Lucifer before turning to him with a gloating smile, making Lucifer's blood boil. In contrast, Charlie brightens up and goes into her presentation mode, restating the rules so that Lucifer hears them as well, and then proceeds to give each pair their own balloon.

It starts off quite well, though Alastor does accidentally pop some balloons with his sharp claws. Resulting in him and Lucifer electing to use their canes instead. To Charlie’s delight, everyone seems to be enjoying the exercise. It’s working!

Then a notification can be heard. Lucifer loses any focus he had on the exercise and takes out his phone, ignoring the balloon slowly descending beside him.

“And here I thought you cared for dear Charlie's exercises.” Alastor utters as the balloon hits the floor. He also moves closer to get a look at what Lucifer might be up to.

Lucifer, taking note of Alastor’s approach, makes sure to hide his phone from the demon’s view before reading what it says. -

Hey, Luci! You just got an... interesting(?) order, They’re willing to pay 50k for you to make an image of an Alastor and put that image on a body pillow, a very high quality body pillow btw, where super adamant about that Also, got a bunch of reference photos, so you don’t have to worry about not knowing who this Alastor is I’ll send them over soon I got a bunch of notes they wanted you to follow and they are like, super specific and detailed, but like, whatever right? Anyway I’ll send them too, Or do you want to come and pick it all up? (it’s a lot to send)

- And it said a lot, he had to re-read it a few times just to get a grasp of what it was about. Someone was willing to pay him 50k for an Alastor pillow?! 50k! Do they want him to use angelic wings as filling? Do they want him to embroider the image? Maybe? Yeah, sure. He can do that. Though that still leaves the big question of, WHY ALASTOR?! Ugh, Luci was not looking forward to having to spend so much time having to deal with seeing images of that one. -

Thanks Crymini. I can come and pick it all later today Did they want anything else or just the pillow with the costume image?

Think that was all, he seemed pretty irritated when he came in though So, maybe add some extra stuff to keep em happy? (If you want) (He did mumbled something about it having to smell like this Alastor dude, but it’s not really in the request, so think you can ignore that)

- ‘Yeah, sure’ Lucifer tries to write for some moments, before giving up and leaving his only employee on read. He’s going to meet her later anyway.

“So, what does the little picture box say?” Alastor interrupts.

Lucifer turns towards him, started by the closeness of the demon, Lucifer screams, drawing everyone’s attention. “Nothing.” He says as he scrambles away, getting some distance. It would be the end of him if Alastor knew any of this. Lucifer quickly composes himself.

“Dad? What happened?” Charlie asks calmly, approaching them.

“Oh, I’m sure it’s nothing, though I find it quite sad that he’d place more importance on a supposed phone than the exercises you’ve worked so hard on dear. Quite a pity indeed.” Alastor responds.

She gave him a humoring smile then turned towards her actual dad to ask more directly. “What did she say?” Only considering the possibility that the only one who’d contact her dad, would be her mom.

“What?” Slightly panicking and wondering how Charlie figured him out. “Oh, nothing, just a few things, nothing important. Anyway, how about the next exercise, what do you have planned sweetie?” He tries to play off.

Charlie looks at him a bit confused but decides to leave it be and lets the focus shift towards the next exercise, as suggested. All while Alastor looks at the king with utmost suspicion, wondering what Lilith might have said that was so important to hide.

________________

Lucifer walks into the empty little shop and is greeted by his one employee. They converse a little and he grabs all of the images and the long list of requirements that were basically telling him to be as accurate as possible. ‘Huh? Alastor has hooves,’ he thinks while ignoring the disturbing amount of artistic rendition of how they look.

Opening a portal back into his room with everything, he starts to look through everything, putting all the images all over his room so that he can get a better overview of it all. When done he starts his creative process, drawing up some initial drafts. Though the more he draws the more he realizes that it’s going to take quite a while for this all to become perfect.

________________

At the end of the week his garbage can is full, Alastor pictures are all around and no real progress has been made. He needs a break, a breather.

After a while of just meandering around the hotel he hears some sounds from the kitchen, one of them sounding to belong to Charlie, so he makes his way there. Arriving he sees them all having fun, walking closer, he notes that they are mostly looking in books. Why read in the kitchen?

“Ah, your majesty, and to what do we owe the pleasure of your presence?” Alastor asks, delighted, catching the devil off guard.

“Just wanted to check out the ruckus in MY kitchen.” Lucifer straightens his suit, ignoring Alastor and focuses on what Charlie might be up to, meeting her gaze. She gives him a quick awkward smile, before her attention drifts elsewhere. Thinking nothing of it, he approaches her. “So, Charlie, is this another one of your redemption exercises?” He asks with cheer and a smile.

“Kinda, it was Alastor’s idea though.” Ugh. "Isn't it great? What’s a better way to show appreciation than making something together?” Her glee and delight is so radiating, he finds it hard not to smile, as she continues her explanation.

“We are working on making a full course meal, Angel and Husk are in charge of the appetizer, Niffty and I are working on the main meal and Vaggie is in charge of the desert, while Alastor is supervising, giving us pointers. Oh! How about you join in too? You could help Vaggie with dessert! How about it?”

“Sure.” He agrees, for how can he say no to that face?

________________

“So Vaggie, what are we making?” He asks approaching Vaggie who seems to be looking through a book.

“I don’t really know, was thinking maybe an apple pie?” She answers, fully engrossed in the book.

Apples! His favorite! “Sounds great! What do we need?” Lucifer asks, taking the book away from Vaggie to read what it may say, instructions. Ooh, that makes sense.

Before he can read much, she takes it back and turns to the radio demon.

“Alastor! I need like 6 apples, some sweet almonds, butter, sugar and 2 eggs. Also, a pie form and some whipping cream.” She calls out. Alastor turns and gives her the same smile he always holds before snapping his fingers, summoning the items along with some tools for assistance.

Lucifer takes one of the apples, it’s bright green, and scoffs, “You call this an apple?” He says giving Alastor a most judgmental look. Then transforms the green misfit into a lovely red apple. “There, better.” Smiling at his own accomplishment and the slight annoyance that passed over Alastor. Ha!

Lucifer finds himself actually enjoying working with Vaggie, she’s a good girl, and despite the annoyance that is Alastor he can’t deny that it wasn’t too bad of an idea. Though he’d never inform anyone of that.

The final meal was also nice, and to Lucifer's delight, Alastor was acting as the busboy. He had set the table and explained each dish, letting his shadows bring the plates to each person. The only part of agitation was how clear it was that Charlie appreciated it too, winning her over even more.

________________

After the meal Lucifer decides to go back to his room but is interrupted by Charlie in the hall.

“Dad?” She starts carefully.

“Yes?” He stopped in his step, turned to her and tried to give her all his attention.

“How do you like living here?”

“It’s nice to always be close to you.”

“Un huh, and what do you think of everyone else? Vaggie, Angel,” She pauses shortly, “Alastor?”

“Vaggie is a very nice and strong girl. Angel is showing progress, I think. As for that Alastor, I doubt he’s ever going to be able to leave hell.”

“Do you want him to stay in hell?”

“He doesn’t deserve anything else but hell.” He says bluntly, starting to get in a bad mood having to be reminded of that guy.

“Right...” Charlie starts, looking at the ground having a hard time figuring out what to ask next.

“Honestly Charlie, I don’t understand why you keep him around. He’s not going to get redeemed and anything he can do I can do better, so just, depend on me more, I’m always here for you.” Lucifer slightly vents.

“Thank you, dad, but Alastor is still a big part of the hotel, and his idea today was really nice, wasn’t it? You and Vaggie looked like you were getting along really well.”

“I guess that’s true.” As much as he hated to admit it, he did have a nice time.

There was a little awkward pause, before Charlie spoke.

“So, umm, thanks for the talk dad and if you ever need any help then you can always talk to me. I’m here for you too, dad.”

She gives another pause, before steading her resolve “Even if it’s something like you’ve moved on from mom, I’ll understand, okay?” She gives him a somewhat sorrowful smile, clearly trying to stay strong.

“Oh no, I still love your mom, we’re just, having a bit of alone time is all.” He doesn’t really like talking about what happened, but there is a reason he still wears the ring.

“Okay dad, thanks.” She looks back to the way she came. “I think it’s time for me to go back to the others.” She says, trying to give Lucifer the choice of joining back.

“Okay, have fun.” He says, moving towards his room.

________________

His head is only filed with Charlie and to a lesser degree, the conversation. All until he opens the door towards his room and is hit by his reality. His room is plastered with Alastor pictures.

Oh.

Oh no.

A cold fear fills him, what if Charlie saw all of this?

And a thought tells him, she already has.

________________

He teleports back to the lobby, where they had all seemingly gathered after doing the dishes without him. Locates Charlie and bolts in her direction. Grabbing both her arms he looks her straight in the eyes.

“I do NOT like Alastor.” He proclaims with vigor. He can’t handle the thought that she might think otherwise.

“Yeah, we know.” Angel comments, directing their focus his way.

“No- I-” Lucifer looks back at Charlie and tells in a whisper for only her to hear. “I don’t like him like I like your mom.”

“Oh! What a relief, I don’t think Alastor would ever like you either.” Wait, what?

“Why not?” He says out of reflex, short and snappy, almost a little offended that there would be one who wouldn’t even consider the possibility of him. Not that he’d ever fall that low, but a peasant should always worship the king. Should they not?

“Because you’re an insolent fool who can’t even clean up after yourself!” Alastor injects with disdain, having been sitting in the armchair behind them during the whole ordeal. He then stands up and walks towards the two. Positioning himself by Charlie's side he takes his staff and points it at Lucifer's chest.

“And why are you here? I thought you said you were busy, hmm?” He continues.

“I am busy, just had to- wanted to make sure that Charlie was doing fine. Can’t be sure about that when you’re around.” Lucifer responds, as if he has the higher ground.

“You should have more faith in her, Charlie is a very capable person.” Alastor gives a short glance towards her, “I for one believe that she can accomplish anything as long as she puts her mind to it. Sad to hear you don’t feel the same.”

“I didn’t-”

“Now dear, you were discussing plans for tomorrow?” Alastor directs all of his focus on Charlie, fully ignoring Lucifer, except for a smug smile he quickly shoots his way.

________________________________

Hope it was a fun read ᵔᵜᵔ

Also, the idea with Crymini was something like, Lucifer is trying to connect with the rest of hell, but still doesn't really want to interact much with them. So he chose to create a shop of sort and found a random sinner to help him in exhange for a nice salary

#lucifer's commissions saga #onewaybroadcast #hazbin fanfic #hazbin alastor #alastor #hazbin lucifer #hazbin hotel lucifer #hazbin #hazbin hotel #hazbinhotel #hazbin vox #hazbin hotel vox #the vees #vees #hazbin charlie #charlie morningstar #and a little text cameo from Crymini #pillowstatic

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