#i had never heard this song before and now i am obsessed

[that-smallinjured-bowylamb]

♡Unhealthy Obsession♡

Summary and side note: Am I doing another music fic for the third time this day? Yes, absolutely. I also heard somewhere that eels could like, idk, change genders until a certain age??? Idk what the fuck I'm saying, BUTTT hear me out- reader asking Rook and Jade to sing this song... they agreed to it (one came with a price btw and I won't specify what exactly) like please- I've never seen a fic that included these duo, PLEASE make another one of one similar to this instead of it being a lyric or smth!! I'm calling this, hmmmm.... Singer!Reader Au!!! Idk, I just want to.

Gender Neutral reader

Genre: Like I said before with my other two posts this and this one

Involvement: Main cast

Warnings?: the music has obsessive themes, uhmmm no yandere but they act like it on stage (is that possible? For me, it is), cussy because I can't live without it, don't mind my asks inside my drafts, uhmm Rook being his usual self, Jade kinda showing signs that he may or may not have been 'observing' reader, highkey making the rest of the cast worried.

Another day, another misery comes crashing down, throwing a brick at you.

Amazing, right? Another task, another problem, another fixed.

Now you're getting tired.

But recently, music has been particularly popular in the recent weeks.

Hmm...

GASP.

UNHEALTHY OBSESSION.

You've heard about the music a million times before in your world, TikTok, YouTube, Spotify... other platforms..

But who would fit the role? Hmmm....

Ah. Now you see.

Going to make another concert again, you've invited Jade.

And Jade, with his unknown smile just looks pleased to be called by you.

"What is it that you need, prefect?"

Said the suspicious man-eel.

You proposed a singing performance for him.

Sometime later, you've managed to convince him to join, with payment in return.

To say, you agreed, begrudgingly. Honestly, the payment is easy, you can afford to do that without risking your life or selling you soul.

Until Rook comes in. Where the fuck did he come from?

"Bounjour! I too, would humbly request to join in your band, mon étoile!!" Said the hunter.

Now you have two creepy people. Great. Well, they're not creepy-creepy, just their vibe is. Nothing more.

So just imagine the entire cast excited to see another show "you'll" perform. Only to see Rook and Jade. The other dorms of said people? Not surprised, they knew they were here since they've went missing. Probably gotten permission from their housewardens.

☆~~———~~☆

The stage is prepared, instruments laid out for a specific student to play.

It was quite intimidating seeing the two menaces on the same stage, but no one was the target of their overwhelming affection (does Jade even have that- yk what, I'm hc it rn).

The crowd is whispering, Rook and Jade are just memorizing the lyrics.

You had to help them with certain lyrics and even had to help the others with their instruments. Somehow getting it right.

You told them it would be great, it has meanings behind it, and it'll be lovely if it was spread across the internet.

The Music Begins...

The intro starts with a menacing start with no lyrics.

Until the music gets heavier with more.

Breathing can be heard.

Jade starts first,

They call it creepin',

I say lovin', it's the only way for me.

Filling our papers,

Signing waivers,

But I stand outside their reach,

Holy shit that's creepy. Ace thought, literally almost passing the fuck out when Jade spoke, Deuce was backing Ace, but was discreetly shitting his pants for this. Why the fuck is he singing this part??? Nevermind, it'll be worse if Rook sang that instead.

I name your mother,

And your father,

And the first pen that you keep.

HECKS NAH. Thought Riddle, he wants to go home now...

Trey was just slightly off put from this, but reminds himself it's just a song.

A song you recommended for them- what the fuck, prefect?-

Leona lowkey shitting himself, seeing Rook on stage. It's mad annoying he's there.

Ruggie wants to escape but can't when he sees Rook looking at him.

Jack is just concerned about the lyrics and why it had to be like this.

I know your favorite place to dine at,

When your check comes in each week.

Fuck no, was the mind of half the cast. But the fact that the gender Jade was using was anonymously a they/them it could be referring to you instead.

Because in the lyrics script, it said 'him' not 'them'.

I know you do your wash on Sundays,

And you separate your whites,

Oh, okay- mad creepy when you actually do that- [I'm not talking about the Sundays, though-]

And that your car needs a new tire,

Cause' last week I laid those spikes.

What the hell? Jamil thought, this bitch is crazy!

Kalim looks at you worryingly.

Vil looks like he's about to fucking explode. Why is Hunt, participating in this? But, then again, it's just music, and yu were the one who recommended it. He wouldn't mind.

Once again, Idia is scared shitless, but with a different reason. THEM. BRO. THEMMM.

Ortho fr is worried as to why yu had to include them, your brave, big sibling! But be careful! You might not know if one of them is actually stalking you-

Ace and Deuce wants to have a turn as well !!! :(

And Savannaclaw straight up wants to run away.

I've got, a million Polaroids,

With all the dates spent in red ink,

A static sound effect came by and it's Jade's voice in a walkie-talkie,

In the most fuck-ass, creepy- diabolical, soul ejecting, low-toned voice.

People pisses themselves, except for Azul and Floyd, of course.

I sneak a walkie-talkie in your room,

To listen to you sleep!

AW FUCK NAWHHHH. One of the NPCs sobbed. It was so good but so creepy, wat the hell is wrong with the music genres in your world, prefect??!!

Riddle lowkey wants to shit himself, it does not look better at the fact that Jade looks exactly like Floyd. Why do they have to be twins again?

Trey is contemplating whether to disappear forever or keep staying.

Leona can't sleep because of that shithead on stage looking at him intensely.

Ruggie wants to run, Jack wants to sit down.

Azul is recording for later use, Floyd is sneakily trying to sabotage Jade like the good brother he is 🫶.

Scarabia is just listening in and is probably worried for you mental health.

The instruments grew heavy, like an overwhelming sense of obsession that hits their brain with hammers.

You just don't know it, yet,

But you love me and,

I love you the same!

Fuck no??? Since when- Riddle thought.

One day, we'll have a pretty wedding!~

And I'll be your everythin'!~

That's insane work, buddy. Whispered Ruggie, just what the hell is wrong with prefect's world??? If people ACTULLY existed like this in your world... why would you go back there...

Jack wants to fucking shield you at this point, he literally JUST saw Jade's eyes flicker to you for a nanosecond. DO NOT CONVINCE HIM OTHERWISE. HE SAW WHAT HE SAW...

We'll be together!~

Yes, forever,

We will never ever part!~

Bitch, who the fuck told you???

-Internally screaming Malleus Draconia.

Lilia just looks worried, mad worried. Like, dear bat... is it necessary for you to go back? He's right here, he'll give you everything your world does not provide. Your much safer here, right?

Idia passed out btw. So Ortho is recording for him.

Vil is shocked by the lyrics, but finds it reasonably scary, this is the mind of a stalker. So of course, it'll be creepy to others.

Epel wants to pray for you.

Oh, you don't know it yet,

But baby, I've already got your heart!~

Jade's part finally ends and everyone had a short sigh of relief.

Until Rook's part pulls up.

Shit is crazy.

Some call it stalking, I say walking,

Just extremely close behind.

Very accurate of you, Rook... Idia wants to die, he can't stand this bob-haircut anymore 😭

Sebek went silent and side-eyes the stage, he can't make eye-contact with this dude, not when he looks so intense and eager when he sings his part.

The instruments follow the beat of his lyrics.

I'm sure if I sat down,

And asked you,

Well, you really wouldn't mind.

I promise you this, [Name]. When he said that, he looks STRAIGHT AT YOU. Dead-ass. I ain't cappin'‼️‼️💯💯

Still stares at you while singing his part.

You've got those eyes that drives me,

Crazy.

And I've got eyes to watch you,

Sleep.

Pack up your bags and move. Your cooked, wallah on my soul 🙏💯💯

Everyone is wishing the sevens may protect you.

Floyd is snickering at you, Azul wants to laugh but muffled it with his hand.

Jamil is praying for your safety, Kalim is fucking confuse...

Vil wants to slap Rook for scaring both his and Rook's crush- friend.

Epel wants to wheeze.

Silver falls asleep before he could see the evil.

I bought a pack lunch and some coffee,

For my stake-out in your tree,

Outside your house.

(Shhh!)

Good lord the lyrics got worse, why did you make them sing this? The collab is good, but why?? The NPC students are literally begging for mercy when Rook's eyes lands on them for a split moment.

Gotta be as quiet as a mouse,

Or else you'll call the police,

And I'll get done for somethin' stupid,

Like, disturbance of the peace.

Riddle hopes he does, Trey says it's not good to hope like that, Cater is streaming with shaky hands, Ace and Deuce are planning your funeral

Leona wants to drop-kick him, Ruggie has mixed emotions about this, Jack says it's justifiable if he actually does that.

Azul straight up went blank, Floyd did not like his part at all. That's his [Name], back tf off ‼️‼️‼️

Diasomnia is probably going to war with Rook later on [and Jade].

Oh, you think that's the end?

And piece by piece,

I am collecting all the,

Things you leave behind.

Oh Dear. Great. Sevens.

And when you don't, I'll rummage through,

Your bins to see,

What I can find!~

Oh. That. Doesn't happen in real life, does it...? Everyone is casting a pitiful glance at you, you start sweating bricks.

Instruments sounding with a heavy longing and spiraling into daydreams.

Now Jade is back on his part, along with a distant sound of Rook's voice in it.

You just don't know it, yet,

[You just don't know it, yet,]

But you love me,

[But you love me,]

And I love you the same!~

[And I love you the same!~]

One day, we'll have a pretty wedding!~

[One day, we'll have a pretty wedding!~]

And I'll be your,

[And I'll be your,]

Everything!~

[Everything!~]

We'll be together!~

[We'll be together!~]

Yes, forever.

[Yes, forever.]

We will never ever part!~

[We will never ever part!~]

You just don't know it yet,

[You just don't know it yet,]

But baby, I've already got your heart!~

[But baby, I've already got your heart!~]

Oof. Yeah, pretty sure this'll fit them if they ever were obsessed with you [or are they normal about you...?]

You just don't know it, yet!

[You just don't know it, yet!]

But you love me and,

[But you love me and,]

I love you the same!

[I love you the same!]

One day, we'll have a pretty wedding!~

[One day, we'll have a pretty wedding!~]

And I'll be your,

[And I'll be your,]

Everything!

[Everything!]

We'll be together,

[We'll be together,]

Yes, forever.

[Yes forever.]

We will never ever part!~

[Well will never ever part!~]

Oh, you don't know it, yet,

[Oh, you don't know it, yet,]

But baby, I've already,

[But baby, I've already,]

Got. Your. Heart!~

[Got. Your. Heart!~]

The dooming instruments nearing ends comes to a later stop after the music fades.

Their crazed, lovesick expression [all the while looking at you] had come to a stop. With a shit-eating grin.

You've passed out. Congrats.

Everyone is worried and thought you died or smth.

But no worries!! It was a small Cardiac Arrest!!! I think...?

Yeah, safe to say, no one had ever been that fucking terrified of Jade and Rook that day.

Amazing...

♡The End♡

Bro this took me so long, I swear the lyrics kept repeating as much as under your spell 😒😒

Enjoy!!!

[seochangbingifs]

FAVORITE CHANGBIN DANCE MOMENTS 12/∞: Would you like to see Changbin dancing to Sherlock sung by Stay? via zoodae15_ on twitter

[viridescentelf]

In your debt

Young druid Halsin x Reader

Ever since I saw the young Halsin art above by @ozumii-fucking-wizard, I have been obsessively staring at his gorgeous damn face (thank you so much for this version of him, I am hopelessly in looooooove)!

Enjoy young Halsin healing you~

Warning: Blood, Violence, Swearing

-----

You ventured through the forest, wanting to escape the loud bustle of the city. Carrying your heavy instrument on your back, you strode through the man-made trail into the thicket, to your usual spot you decided was your permanent hideaway.

You knew the forest was home to a druidic group, who adopted young lost children. You never encountered any druids on your many trips here, but you knew they were aware of you: sometimes you found some foraged fruit and vegetables at your spot, packaged neatly with strings or in small sacks. Someone left you these gifts. You assumed they liked your music, since you often came into the woods to practice some new songs you were crafting. You weren’t sure if the children were this fond of you or if it was some druid who kept leaving trinkets. It didn’t matter really, you were grateful nonetheless.

Today, you hadn’t found anything left for you. This wasn’t too unusual; you never ventured here expecting to receive anything. You let the strand of your instrument slide down your arm, placing it next to your seat by the large oak. It was clear this spot wasn’t really used by others, the print of you sitting in the dirt only really matched yours. It always seemed undisturbed, like you left it, with the occasional gifted sack placed there.

You gazed at the lake, where fireflies danced happily over the dawn lit water. It was another pleasant morning and you took a deep breath, enjoying the lovely fresh air you rarely got to inhale. Baldur’s Gate was lively and exciting, but you were always drawn back to this place.

You started plucking the strands of your lute, absentmindedly, taking in the sunrise as the rays warmed your face. You felt the trees sway with your music, as if they were welcoming you back. The forest seemed more alive here and had a distinct personality. Childlike glee vibrated through the branches. The tranquility of this area made you sink back into the tree, leaning against its strong body.

Something boomed in the distance. You sat up with a jolt. Normally, the only sounds you heard here were twigs breaking or the wind whizzing through the glade. You looked around, trying to locate the source of the noise.

Another blast. This time, there was shouting that followed. Some sounded panicked, some aggressive.

You got to your feet, frantically, staring into the distance where you thought the brutal noises were ebbing from. There were screams now. And they sounded young.

Without really thinking, you started sprinting towards the cries. Clutching your lute in one hand at your side to keep it from knocking your hip, you darted through the brush. There were children screaming and wailing, getting louder and louder the faster you ran towards them. A loud, ugly voice was yelling at them.

There were other more distant shock waves bellowing: an ambush? Were the druids under attack?

You heard the angry voice thunder in front of you, as you slid behind a birch tree.

“Move it, you little shits! Or I’ll cut yer hands off!”, a goblin with a bloody handprint across his face snarled at a group of mixed children, who were huddled together, sniveling and trembling uncontrollably. He pointed a curved, dirty blade at their backs, as they sheepishly shuffled along.

“Can’t we just kill them and drag their corpses? They’re so fucking slow…” Another smaller goblin groaned, walking in front of the hostages.

“No, the drows say they need new slaves. We need ‘em alive,” he pushed a small tiefling in front of him, who let out a terrified shriek, “Faster! Before the stinkin’ druids catch up.”

They passed the birch tree, which was rooted opposite a cliffside. The rapids below reverberated up, making it hard to hear clearly.

Goblins were attacking the druids, the far sounds of crashing and clanging meant a fierce battle was commencing.

“They won’t be able to hold them back much longer, Izick,” the short goblin at the front was standing close to your hiding spot. You peered through the branches and saw the poor souls quivering wildly. Their faces were cut and stained with blood. You deduced whoever was watching over them had been murdered in front of them.

You weren’t a fighter. But you couldn’t let them take the children.

The small goblin turned to face the group; his back facing the tree. You grasped your lute hard, making the skin around it paler. You took a deep breath, preparing yourself for guaranteed pain.

This was an expensive instrument, too.

You pounced out of the woods into the clearing and slammed the lute onto the head of the unassuming goblin. It broke over his fat head, but the velocity had done its job. He fell to the side with a loud thud, letting out a last, gurgled groan. You kept hitting him with the remaining pieces of your improvised weapon, making sure he was dead. The blood pooled around him.

Izick was already running towards you, having pummeled through the victims without care, who all fell to the ground and held their heads to the dirt, whimpering and horrified.

You dodged the first swing of his blade, but knew instantly this wasn’t a fight you could win. You had nothing to fight with, except your fists, and you dared not get close to him as she flourished his disgusting weapon.

The goblin roared as he jumped towards you. You collided and felt a scorching pain in your stomach. He had gotten you, deep in your belly. You screamed. You both fell to the ground near the edge of the cliff. The goblin tried to pull the blade back out while he sat on top of you, but it was stuck. Izick cursed at you, although no insult really reached your ears. Your entire body centered around the searing wound in your abdomen.

The children were petrified. You saw the tears roll down their faces as they watched the pathetic scuffle. If you failed, they would suffer endlessly. You couldn’t allow him to kill you, before you saved them.

He lifted his fists to pummel you. His face was etched with determination, he would beat you to death if he had to.

Your arm moved instinctively. You grabbed his collar, before his fists met your face, and leaned your entire body weight to the side, where the roaring river called to you. It was the only way.

You felt the wind whistle past your ears as you fell with the goblin in your grasp to the depths. You both crashed into the icy water and you felt him drift away, as the muffling water slowed everything. Your body was being pulled to the side, the current dragging you uncaringly down the river. It pulled you violently from one side to the other, not tiring of its new toy, pushing you up and down like a ball. Weightless, you floated and let it take control, unable to do anything else.

Your thoughts silenced. The cold of your surroundings embraced you and you had no strength to resist. The pulsating pain from the blade kept you awake, barely.

After a while, you felt yourself bob up, your head bracing the surface. The sudden blaring of the river crashed into your ears as you gasped for air. Your eyes blurred. The water seemed to settle into a lazy tempo. You didn’t know how, but you kept your head above water. You saw red puddles waft after you.

The current carried you to a small bank, discarding you there as it continued on. You lay on the muddy earth, motionless, staring at the piercing blue sky that seemed to beckon you towards it. The blade still stuck out of you, you saw it move up and down as you breathed shakily. You couldn’t keep your eyes open much longer.

Your heavy lids fell, darkening everything. The pain slowly left, too.

You were dying. And you were accepting it.

Before the complete darkness, you felt tiny hands pressing on your aching belly. That spot felt warm and kind, as the last of your wits evaded you.

Quiet. Emptiness. Nothing.

Halsin’s lips clasped yours, as he breathed into your mouth, holding your nose. The moss on your puncture was absorbing the excess blood. The vile blade lay discarded to the side, already carefully pulled from you.

You convulsed and coughed out, life filling your face first and then gradually seeping into your weak limbs.

You blinked hard and opened your weary eyes.

Halsin met your gaze and placed a hand on your cheek, as his other etched glyphs into the air.

“You’re going to be alright…”, he said softly, as a green mist appeared suddenly from his hand, which he lowered down to your injury.

“Breathe…”, he commanded gently. You obeyed and took a shaky breath. Your body felt heavy. Even breathing was difficult.

You felt his hand pressing on your abdomen. Whatever he was doing, the agony was quieting because of it slowly. You watched him as he attended to your mortal wound.

He was beautiful. A few braided pieces of his long, honey hair fell effortlessly next to his face. The jade eyes were focused, but there was an air of kindness about them. You squinted at the embroidery on his attire. This was one of the druids.  He looked young, but the elf ears suggested he might be older than he appeared.

You attempted to speak, but could only let out feeble coughs.

“Don’t speak. This will take a bit to close up”, he looked down at you and smiled kindly. You blinked as a response, taking another deep breath as you felt the pain flee your body.

There was a brief silence, the only sound was the hypnotic whirring of his enchantments.

“You did something truly courageous back there. The children told me. They recognized you, the singer in the woods…they often spoke about you at bedtime”, he chuckled briefly, “Didn’t expect I’d meet you under these circumstances.”

You watched him, as he seemed to reminisce fondly. So, it was the children who left you gifts at your spot?

His other hand swished and another cloud of green wafted out of it. He placed that hand next to the other on your stomach.

“I am in your debt. You saved the little ones, when they were not your burden. Truly, you’re a real hero.”  

You didn’t know how to respond. You were also more than confused as to how he found you so quickly. You felt like you had been drifting in that river forever. And the druids lived deep within the forest.

Who in the Hells was this elf anyway?

“You are exceedingly lucky. Thaniel found you and tended to you before I made it here.”

You raised an eyebrow, coughing again.

“Oh, haha. Thaniel is the forest spirit here. He seems quite fond of you.”

A forest spirit? Your exhausted brain couldn’t process that thought. You couldn’t really contest the idea either.

The druid lifted his hands briefly, checking how far along the healing process was. Deciding it needed more time, he repositioned his palms. You observed him for a while in silence as he concentrated on the regeneration of your tissue. He was huge. You felt like a child next to him.

“Wh-who are you…” you croaked out faintly.

He turned to you, his eyes softening with a calm smile.

“I’m Halsin,” he put one hand on your shoulder to keep you down, as you tried to sit up at the response. It didn’t take much strength to keep you there. He smiled more widely, then turned his attention back to his task.

Halsin. You had heard that name before. Whispered by folk in the area, he was famous for his incredible healing abilities and knack for getting captured. You only knew one druid by name and that was him. A druidic protégé, yes. A fierce warrior, yes. But a bit different. People in town talked about the impulsiveness of the young druid, which caused the other, older druids to scratch their heads in frustration at his unpredictability. And that‘s who was healing you right now?!

Gods, you never imagined he’d be this dreamy.

You were probably dreaming. No, you were dead. Definitely.

No being was this beautiful.

[rafeskai]

Stolen Glances - Drew Starkey

Summary: At the Met Gala, Reader, a singer, and Drew Starkey share an unexpected connection after slipping away from the spotlight to escape the chaos. Bonding over music and the pressures of fame, they find themselves drawn to each other, sharing candid moments and stolen glances throughout the night.

Pairings: Drew Starkey x Popstar!Reader

Warnings: None

Author's Note: Let me know if I should make this a short series :)

The lights are blinding, bouncing off the sleek walls and polished floors, reflecting the glitz and glamor of a world that feels surreal even to you, despite having been in the limelight for years. The Met Gala was one of the events you could never quite get used to — an annual, glittering parade of artists, designers, models, and the occasional movie star. Tonight, you’ve arrived with your team, decked out in a show-stopping outfit that had social media buzzing long before you even stepped onto the red carpet.

After the red carpet and photo-ops, you slip away, seeking a quieter corner of the hall, clutching a champagne glass that’s more for show than sipping. It’s here, away from the flashing cameras, that you hear someone chuckle softly nearby.

“So you’re hiding out too, huh?”

You turn toward the voice and find yourself face-to-face with Drew Starkey. He’s tall, with an easy smile, his tux fitting him like it was made for him. You recognize him immediately — the Internet’s favorite bad boy. And despite the flashy lights outside, he somehow exudes a quiet, laid-back charm that feels surprisingly out of place in a room full of larger-than-life personalities.

“Guilty,” you reply, a smirk tugging at your lips as you raise your glass. “Needed a breather. How about you?”

Drew chuckles, scratching the back of his neck, his eyes sweeping over the crowded hall. “Yeah, I’m not too big on these things either. But they told me it’d be ‘good for my image,’” he says, making air quotes with a playful grin.

You laugh, nodding in understanding. “They say that a lot. But hey, it’s not so bad. I’ve already had three strangers tell me they love my latest album, which they clearly haven’t listened to.”

Drew chuckles, his gaze meeting yours. “Well, for what it’s worth, I did listen to your latest album. My sister is obsessed. I think I’ve heard every song about a thousand times.”

“Oh?” You raise an eyebrow, amused. “Then you must be a fan by now.”

He shrugs with a playful smile. “Maybe I am. Got a favorite track, actually.”

Curiosity piqued, you tilt your head, challenging him. “Really? Which one?”

He steps closer, lowering his voice as if to keep the answer between the two of you. “Track three. ‘Lonely Nights,’ right? That song hits different.”

You blink, caught off guard by his choice. That song was raw, a rare glimpse of your private self in an industry that often demanded you be someone else. Hearing Drew mention it, with that earnest glint in his eye, stirs something in you.

“Didn’t expect that,” you admit. “Most people go for the upbeat stuff. The party anthems.”

He shrugs again, an easy smile gracing his lips. “Guess I’m not most people.”

Before you can respond, a voice calls out to you from across the room — your manager, reminding you that you’re needed back on the main floor.

You give Drew an apologetic smile, reluctant to leave. “Duty calls, I guess.”

He nods, his gaze lingering on you. “Good luck out there.”

You turn to leave, but then glance back at him, emboldened. “Hey, maybe we’ll run into each other again tonight?”

He grins, his eyes twinkling under the dim lights. “Count on it.”

As the night wears on, you spot Drew in the crowd multiple times, catching his eye each time and exchanging a silent smile or a raised glass. Eventually, you find yourself back in that quiet corner, escaping the chaos once more — and it’s no surprise that Drew finds his way there too.

“Fancy meeting you here,” he jokes, leaning casually against the wall beside you.

“Guess this is our spot now,” you reply, a smile creeping onto your face.

The rest of the night blurs into an effortless flow of conversation. Drew listens intently as you share anecdotes from your world, and he offers his own, giving you glimpses into the life of an actor constantly in the public eye. There’s a quiet understanding between you both, an unspoken bond between two people navigating the glitzy chaos of fame.

As the night winds down, and the crowd begins to thin, Drew walks you outside, where the city lights glisten in the darkness.

“Thanks for tonight,” you say, the words leaving you softer than you intended.

He glances down at you, his gaze steady. “No problem. Hopefully, we get to do it again sometime.”

Before you can respond, he takes a step back, giving you a quick, almost shy smile before disappearing into the night.

You’re left standing there, with a new excitement buzzing in your chest. The first spark of something that feels rare and real — and maybe, just maybe, the beginning of something extraordinary.

© 2024 rafeskai | All rights reserved. My work is a work of fiction inspired by different characters, and no part of it may be reproduced or distributed without permission.

[softtdaisy]

venus / Aaron Hotchner

summary. you're begging your bodyguard to tell your code name, little do you know the meaning behind it

words count. 1 956

what to expect. sweet and flirty, brief angsty moment

a/n. @pastelpinkflowerlife i could never thank you enough for putting the idea in my head, i'm so happy to write more of reader and bodyguard!hotch and i hope you will all follow me in this fantasy 🤍

bodyguard masterlist | criminal minds masterlist | F1 masterlist | general masterlist | request

“Gorgeous?”

You heard Hotch’s amused sigh in your back. At least you made him laugh, and that meant a lot considering he wasn’t doing it very often. 

“Why would it be that?” he asked.

You turned around, putting your sunglasses on top of your head, to look at your bodyguard. Just like he did a minute ago, Hotch was still standing right behind you, his eyes hidden by his own aviator sunglasses. But you could swear he was looking straight in front of him. Which was sad, because there wasn’t much to look at.

You frowned and said, “Because I am gorgeous,” in a very obvious tone.

You couldn’t see his eyes going down on you, but you noticed the very subtle way his head tilted while doing so. He was a man, after all.

When you were looking for a new apartment to hide from your stalker, you had different requirements. If you had to spend more time there, at least you wanted to enjoy it. So as well as the privacy, the security system, or the natural light inside, you asked for a pool. 

And you got it. A rooftop pool barely used by your neighbors since most of them weren’t there during the day.

So there you were, lying on a deck chair, enjoying the sun in peace with your bodyguard watching over you. 

You loved the peace and the silence that came with being alone there. You could have easily spent the whole afternoon without speaking, just reading a book and swimming now and then. 

But there was something even more enjoyable in annoying the so-stoic Aaron Hotchner.

“No, it’s not your code name,” he replied. This time, he watched as you turned your head again, your ponytail flying in the air. The thought of grabbing it left as soon as it came to his mind.

It wasn’t easy for him to stay focused when you looked this good in your bikini.

You grabbed your book again, like you did after every refuted proposition you did. The thought came to you while reading this new romance everyone was talking about. The love interest had given the girl some cute Italian nickname that he only knew about.

That was when you realized it wasn’t fair that you didn’t know what your code name was. You were sure Hotch gave you one; it was the procedure. You were dying to find it.

You tilted your head back but not enough to see him. “The singer?”

“Too obvious,” he said with the very same tone.

You tried everything you could think of: something related to your appearance, from your hair to your height or your eye color, a song from yours, or even the city you were born in. But Hotch kept disproving them.

You put your book down again and got up. “The most amazing girl in the world?” you asked, standing in front of him. Even with your hands on your waist and squinting, you didn’t look that threatening. From outside, the situation must look funny with you in your bikini and Hotch in his all-black outfit—a t-shirt and shorts to bear with the weather.

You were quite obsessed with the way this color was good on him. Or how his crossed arms on his chest seemed so much bigger.

His enemies should be afraid of him.

Your body was very much attracted to him.

As for Hotch, he was surprised how you didn’t seem to get tired of this little game. “You realized this isn’t supposed to be that long?” 

You looked down on him before reaching his eyes again, with a little smirk. “Is that what women tell you when they get on their knees?” you said, fluttering your eyelashes. 

This time, Hotch couldn’t contain the smile that appeared on his lips. Of course he should have expected that from you. He wasn’t showing any type of reaction, just like he was taught to.

But the thought of you getting on your knee in front of him right now was somehow very tempting. Nobody around but the excitement that anybody could show up at any moment. Your eyes looking at him, your mouth on him, and his hand in your hair. Yes. Hotch could really experience that. 

This thought would probably stay with him the whole day.

After winking at him, you took the time to walk to the pool. He watched every single one of your movements. How your hips were moving in a silent rhythm only you could hear. The way your legs slowly disappeared in the water. How your arms reached for your hair to tie it higher. How the rest of the sunscreen on your body made your skin even more glowy. And then you dived, like a siren in the water. Maybe that could have been your code name, now that he thought about it.

The rest of the afternoon didn’t go as smoothly. You kept proposing other code names that he all said no to. You kept flirting with Hotch, and you will never know if the red on his cheek was from your comments or the sun—or both. 

Until you had to go back to your apartment because you had another meeting about your stalker. You hated those. Every week, you had to sit next to Hotch, listening to him and his team evaluate the situation. But there was nothing more to say when that asshole wasn’t sending a new threat, but you all knew he would strike at any moment.

These meetings were always some kind of blurry for you. You didn’t listen to most of it, your brain going somewhere else. You would rather focus on something else, pretending to follow the discussion when you were only physically present—not mentally. Most of the time you thought about some songs, sometimes even writing them. And you knew Hotch could tell you were the discreet type, but he never said anything.

Sometimes he was the one you focused on during these meetings. Like today, mesmerized by the subtle tan the sun left on his thighs and arms, the way the hair on his arms seemed to fade with his skin more. By the little redness on his nose that gave him some freckles. Or by his dark hair, messy on his head, that gave you crazier thoughts.

No. You didn’t follow most of the meeting, but you could sing another song about your bodyguard.

Yet, once it was over, you needed to find some comfort. Especially since you found yourself alone in the living room after Hotch left to his own room—still crazy to you that this man was sleeping at the same place as you. 

So you ended up making yourself a bowl of ice cream with your favorite flavors. It has always been some kind of guilty pleasure of yours, doing it on tour when you felt homesick and at home when you felt toursick. And more these days after learning your life was threatened.

You didn’t get to hesitate before making one for Hotch too, with his own favorite flavors.

You had a discussion about this not long after he started working for you. One night when you didn’t flirt with him but were anxious, you ate ice cream on your balcony, and he joined you. Hotch being Hotch, he didn’t reassure you much with words, but his presence was safe enough to comfort you. 

“It might sound so childish,” you explained, with a spoonful of ice cream. “But it’s comforting to eat something you know you like and can’t disappoint you. And ice cream does that to me.” 

You didn’t expect him to understand. But he did. And he told you about what he loved too.

This explained why you ended up knocking on his door with a fresh bowl in hand. When you opened the door, he was sitting on the desk that had been installed for him. You didn’t hear him shower, but you noticed his wet hair and the little drop falling on his neck. You found it funny how he only put on his glasses when he was alone in this room. 

Maybe some part of him thought he looked less threatening with them.

You actually found him just as hot.

“I thought you might need one too,” you offered, putting the bowl on the desk next to his computer.

Hotch’s eyes went down your body, again, from your naked legs to your comfy dress so light it would be easy for him to put a hand underneath. “Thank you,” he replied with a hoarse voice, trying to find composure next to you. 

Sometimes you wished you could sit there and stay with him, chatting about everything and anything. But Aaron Hotchner wasn’t your real friend. You couldn’t pretend he was. Even if you loved teasing him and wished your flirting would give you what you wanted from him.

So instead you simply smiled at him and went to the door just as fast as you came in. 

“Venus.”

You stopped midway. Unsure to have heard right. 

But when you turned around to look at Hotch, his eyes were on you. Still on you. But this time, he was expecting an answer. 

When he noticed the confusion on your face, he added, “Your code name is Venus.”

You couldn’t help the little laugh that escaped your mouth. “The planet?” you asked, leaning against the door. You didn’t know much about astronomy apart from what you learned from school. You tried to search through your memory and your knowledge but couldn’t point out why you would be Venus. Maybe it was their thing in his agency. 

“The goddess” of love and beauty, he didn’t add.

Hotch had been the one to find the name. And the truth was, you didn’t technically need one since he was with you almost all the time—the very few hours spent away were when he had no other choice and someone else was replacing him. He was doing most of the meetings at your place. Sure, it was better for you to have a code name in case of.

His team made fun of him for being incapable of finding you a name. And it was during an event he had to keep an eye on you that he found it. Venus.

You were undeniably one of the most gorgeous women he had ever met in his life—that, he could admit. And Hotch had been working with many, many people in his life. But you. You. It was above beauty; it was your whole charisma. You were charming everyone in each room you came into, and he had a hard time resisting you. Your face was painted in black ink under his eyelid, seeing you in all his dreams. And he knew he wasn’t the only one.

As for the love, Hotch couldn’t deny that you had been nothing but affectionate with him. Sure, sometimes he couldn’t point out if you were nice only to flirt and get him in your bed or if you were being honest. Or both, maybe. 

He had given up on love a long time ago when he started this job. And never in all these years had he ever regretted it or thought about falling in someone else's arms again for something other than pure lust. 

But you. Aaron already knew that a part of him would miss you the day this mission would end. Your beauty, your smile, your touch, your love for him even if he was just the bodyguard protecting you.

So Venus, you were. 

The goddess of beauty and love. 

And desire. He sure had a lot of desire for you too.

Tag List: @kiwriteswords @monzabee @raysmayhem-72 (if you want to be in it, ask me and I’ll be happy to add you x)

[nonbinoclard]

>>> TUNES TO LOSE YOUR MIND TO <<<

KEEP IN MIND: This is a living playlist! Songs may be added and removed at times to further curate the vibe I'm going for. I'll try to keep this post updated, but you can just check out the link for an up-to-date track list.

(EDIT: Song discussions are not finished! I have a lot more to say. I'll reblog when I've updated.)

This is set in a sort of nebulous time between Harry's life right before Martinaise and the night before he lost his memory. I wanted this playlist to feel erratic-- full of manic energy one second, then slow and bleak the next, dreamy, unreal, then right back to ridiculous.

(In no particular order. Shuffle for full emotional whiplash effect.)

I Don't Like My Mind - Mitski

I don't like my mind, I don't like being left alone in a room [...] And then I get sick and throw up and there's another memory that gets stuck / Inside the walls of my skull waiting for its turn to talk / And it may be a few years, but you can bet it's there, waiting still

The days before cleaning out the rooms... also, eating an entire cake and throwing it all up again feels very harry-esque... Overindulgence

A whole cake, so please don't take / Take this job from me

End Of The World - Hether

I mean, I could just post the entire set of lyrics as evidence, tbh. Struggling to find meaning and purpose in his life in the wake of heartbreak (5 year old heartbreak, but who's counting anyway)

I wake up in the morning and I wonder / Why everything's the same as it was I can't understand / No I can't understand / How life goes on the way it does

Cane Shuga - Glass Animals

Baby, don't go / I'll stop breathing coke / No more bloody nose / No more John Does Burn through my love / Just like your drugs / I've had quite enough / Or lack thereof

This is about the last moments of Harry and Dora's relationship to me. The chorus (a kind of circular, endless, self-aggrandizing internal monologue likely fueled by stimulants, implied in the song) continuing after the second verse kind of reflects the solution for Lonesome Long Way Home.

"11 Voyager Road. You no longer live there. Those times are gone, and so are those people. Why did you come here? Why are you still here? And where’s the dealer? You have to get back to work. That’s all you have now."

Hot Venom - Miniature Tigers

Hot venom is mixing with my blood / I can feel it on my fingers and taste it on her tongue / It feels so good to fall in love with you

I've heard a lot of people say this song is about heroin addiction, which is thematically appropriate for this playlist, but also. Harry's unhealthy obsession with Dora/Dolores Dei. Adoration (and hatred) so strong it's killing him.

Her venom makes me strong / Stronger than I am on my own / Before too long, I'll wake up to it gone / Wondering how I ever was happy [...] You can't go back now; that's not how this works / And as long as she's gone, I can never be happy

Who Is She ? - I Monster

This is just straight up about Harry's recurring dream to me. Just. Gestures at the lyrics.

Oh, who is she? / A misty memory / A haunting face / Is she a lost embrace? Am I in love with just a theme? / Or is Ayesha just a dream?

I feel like it falls in line really well with the idea that Harry's mind has been affected by the Pale-- a lack of memory, or maybe mixed memories, in a misty haze beyond the boundaries of reality. (and maybe Dolores Dei has started haunting him via Pale? Like some theories I've read.)

Somewhere across the sea of time / A love immortal such as mine Will come to me / Eternally

I Don't Miss You at All - FINNEAS

Dummy - Portugal. The Man

F the World - The Northern Boys

You Stupid Bitch - Crazy Ex-Girlfriend (TV Show)

These shards are a metaphor for my soul Won't stop the self-pity 'cause I'm on a roll

This song perfectly captures the inherent melodrama of a mental downward spiral imo. Catastrophic and all-encompassing. This is what I think it sounds like in there (Harry's head).

You ruined everything / You stupid bitch / You ruined everything / You stupid, stupid bitch / You're just a lying little bitch who ruins things / And wants the world to burn / Bitch / You're a stupid bitch / And lose some weight

Oleander - Mother Mother

Intermission - Scissor Sisters

Skit #2 - Kanye West

Self explanatory. He's got no money. He's got no clothes. He has no car and he has no hoes.

We broke, broke broke phi broke We ain't got it Broke, broke, broke phi broke We ain't got it Don't spend no money, ain't got no clothes Ain't got no cars, ain't got no hoes

Nobody - Mitski

My God, I'm so lonely, so I open the window To hear sounds of people, to hear sounds of people

This one is more about the feeling of the song itself rather than the lyrics specifically; I love the upbeat tempo that continues through the song (trying to remain steady, continue working), how the beat is simple at first then builds into a kaleidoscope of sound by the end of the track (overwhelmed by the world), then ending in a distorted loop (trapped in a cycle). This song has always felt really authentic to my own experience with mental spirals. The themes of loneliness tie it all into a nice bow.

I'm A Broken Heart - the bird and the bee

Not Allowed - TV Girl

Party Time - The Northern Boys

Comfortably Numb - Scissor Sisters

(Do The) Act Like You Never Met Me - TV Girl

Novocaine For The Soul - Eels

Basket Case - Green Day

Do you have the time / to listen to me whine About nothing and everything all at once? I am one of those melodramatic fools / Neurotic to the bone, no doubt about it

I just think this one fits him well during Martinaise... just shaken up and unloading trauma onto unsuspecting strangers like a can of soda (bad analogy lol), depending on the dialogue you choose.

I went to a shrink to analyze my dreams She says it's lack of sex that's bringing me down I went to a whore, she said my life's a bore So quit my whining 'cause it's bringing her down

Sometimes, I give myself the creeps / Sometimes, my mind plays tricks on me It all keeps adding up / I think I'm cracking up Am I just paranoid, or am I stoned?

Also it's just a little pathetic, which just... it fits. Sorry Harry.

Labyrinth - Miracle Musical

[sammylkcho]

I have a jealous human seb request 👉👈, The highschool au is pretty cool maybe something with that? Or whatever u think works :)))

  ༷  ㅤ !    ﹢High School AU - Jealous, jealous   ִ     ੭

Did I end up creating an AU without realizing it? Yes. Am I now obsessed with human Seb and Y/N in these kinds of scenarios? definitely

Hope you like it, my dear anon! Btw, for the fans of Epic the Musical, I was inspired by certain scenes in the song Little Wolf heheh

Warnings/Notes: scene of fight, physical insecurities, I inspire me in the human Painter of the Streamer AU, using pronuns she/her with Y/N (sorry :c)

You allowed yourself to lift your head from the desk as the bell rang, signaling the start of the first recess. At that precise moment, all your classmates sprang from their seats and bolted out of the room like wild animals, desperate to escape the classroom for even a second.

You waited until at least half of them had left to avoid being pushed and squeezed between their bodies just to get out yourself. After all, your entire group of friends was absent today, so there wasn’t anyone you were particularly waiting for.

“Get up. I don’t want the cafeteria to run out of empanadas,” Sebastian said.

You lazily glanced over your shoulder and saw him standing there, hands tucked into his sweater pockets, his messy, wavy black hair as unruly as ever, and his blue eyes sparkling with that peculiar glimmer they always seemed to have.

It had only been a few weeks since you’d started talking to him—or rather, since he started talking to you. It had surprised you when he chose to pair up with you for a group project, especially since your friend didn’t protest or complain about not doing the assignment together as you two usually planned.

And it just happened—you didn’t even know how you ended up getting closer to him. Once again, you were amazed that your social anxiety hadn’t caused you to say something stupid as it often did in so many situations.

A quick snap of fingers broke your trance, making you blink and focus on the tanned fingers in front of you.

You smiled and apologized before standing up to walk alongside him, leaving the classroom to head toward the place Sebastian’s stomach most desired: the cafeteria.

“How are your siblings?” you asked, trying to start a conversation to distract yourself from the overwhelming noise around you.

“They’re fine, though… my sister’s been annoying lately, and I have to be her poor victim. So unfair!” Sebastian complained, frowning dramatically.

His exaggerated gestures made you laugh. You always enjoyed hearing how he made every situation with his siblings seem over the top. There was never a dull story about them.

Hearing your laugh, Sebastian glanced at you out of the corner of his eye. A flush of warmth rushed to his cheeks, and his palms began to feel sweaty. He quickly looked away, pulling a childish face. Loverboy.

“Hey, I’m gonna head to the bathroom for a moment. Don’t wait too long for me,” you said, stepping slightly away from his side.

He gave you a confused look for a moment before snapping out of it and flashing you a lazy smile, giving you a thumbs-up in approval.

“Just don’t take too long. I won’t promise to leave anything half-eaten,” he called out, raising his voice to make himself heard over the growing crowd of students in the courtyard.

You walked off with a small “uh-huh” in confirmation, heading straight for the bathrooms. You hadn’t realized you’d been holding it in until your bladder gave you a signal that if you didn’t go now, there’d be a bit of trouble.

It was no secret that the girls’ bathroom always had at least five people inside, most of them standing in front of the mirrors for at least ten minutes. Luckily, you only needed to take care of business and wash your hands before heading back out.

You recognized three girls from your class in there and two others who you guessed were a year or two ahead of you.

You’d always felt a bit uncomfortable around them, especially since some of them drooled over Sebastian and fit the classic “queen bee” stereotype. Honestly, you never liked them.

You entered the stall without any issues and finished up quickly before heading to the sinks to wash your hands.

Catching your reflection in the mirror, you felt a twinge of self-consciousness as you took in your appearance. You felt uncomfortable with yourself. How could you even show up to school looking like this? How could you stand next to him when—

You shook your head quickly, pushing those intrusive thoughts aside as you hurriedly left the bathroom. You’d gotten better; you didn’t need to dwell on those things—at least not as much.

Your eyes widened as you stepped outside and saw the courtyard completely packed. It was almost impossible to make out individuals in the sea of students.

You began weaving through the crowd, narrowly dodging a small paper ball some boys had decided to use as a makeshift soccer ball.

Your eyes scanned every corner of the courtyard near the tables, searching for one specific person. It was challenging, considering almost everyone had black hair. But no matter—you’d find your favorite Chilean.

Your gaze landed on a head of snow-white hair, and a smile crept onto your face as you spotted Vincent Painter in the crowd. You knew full well that where Vincent was, Sebastian was sure to be close by.

You pushed your way through, tuning out the rest of the world as you zeroed in on those two specific people.

“Painter, Seb—” The words died in your throat in an instant, the air abruptly leaving your lungs as you felt a sudden force. A hand clamped down firmly on your shoulder.

A chill ran through your body from head to toe as your heart began pounding faster and faster. You forced yourself to relax enough to turn and see who had grabbed you like that.

“Clay.”

The name seemed to slip instantly from your lips as you turned to see who it was.

It might sound cliché to say it this way, but it was the number one bully, troublemaker, and overall pain in the ass for both students and teachers alike. Always bothering people in the most unpleasant ways just to have something to do—including you.

You’d struggled to turn him into background noise back in sophomore year. Every time a teacher publicly scolded you for being late or some other "important" issue, he was always there to rub it in, mocking you for every mistake.

"Busy?" he asked with fake interest, his hand still firmly gripping your shoulder.

"A little, yes, maybe. Actually doing something worthwhile, unlike some," you muttered the last part under your breath, quickly and quietly, cursing yourself a thousand times over the moment you realized what you'd said.

His grip on your shoulder seemed to tighten and grow more forceful. You’d struck a nerve.

"Why don’t you come hang out with me and my group for the rest of the break? We’re not as boring as some," he said, maintaining that same hypocritical tone.

His hand slid down until it rested around your shoulders, as if you were lifelong friends. The gesture made your skin crawl with disgust. You wanted to shove him away, to curse him out in every way possible, to give him the slap he’d deserved for ages.

Your mind screamed yes to all of those thoughts, but your body froze, paralyzed with fear of what might happen if you so much as moved an inch while he had his arm around you.

Your legs felt like they were bolted to the ground, refusing to respond to the demands your brain was frantically making. Even though no one else could clearly see it in that moment, it was humiliating.

"No, I’m busy—"

"Someone like you is never busy."

"SHIT, NO!" you yelled with all your strength. Before he could react, you jerked your shoulders forcefully, a sharp motion that broke his grip. You freed yourself and stepped back, your body trembling with pure adrenaline.

You exhaled all the air you hadn’t realized you’d been holding in, gasping desperately for the oxygen you’d been depriving yourself of. The suffocating feeling still lingered, especially after your outburst and the scene you’d unintentionally created in front of the other students.

The noisy schoolyard, which had been alive with chatter and laughter just moments ago, fell deathly silent at your shout. Those closest to you and Clay stood frozen, watching in stunned silence to see how the situation would unfold. Further back, murmurs started among the students, curious and uncertain about what had caused the commotion.

You looked at Clay, trembling, noticing how his muscles tensed and his eyes stayed locked on you, unyielding. Neither of you said anything, locked in a tense standoff, like a predator trying not to scare off its prey.

Time seemed to stop for a moment, the only sound being your heavy, shaky breaths if someone were to listen closely enough.

Then, you clearly saw his right hand—the same one that had been draped over your shoulders—rise aggressively toward you, giving you no time to react or process what was about to happen.

The blow landed hard and fast, a lightning strike of pain erupting like a volcano in your cheek and spreading through your entire head. Your vision blurred for a moment, a dull ringing filling your ears as the world around you tilted unsteadily.

You lost your balance, stumbling to the side. Your hands instinctively reached for the ground, but the force of the impact left your arms trembling under your weight. Your skin burned where his hand had struck, a searing sensation that seemed to etch the violence into your body.

"Stop acting like a wild animal toward me! You’re that guitarist’s lapdog, so act like it—"

His words were abruptly cut off when something struck him out of nowhere, silencing him mid-sentence.

You didn’t take the moment to lift your head and see what had happened; your mind was still struggling to process the words he’d just yelled at you.

“Who the hell threw a damn empanada at me?!” he roared, utterly agitated, his fury palpable from miles away.

“Who taught you to hit a woman like that?!”

A new voice broke into the scene, one you recognized instantly.

You wanted to lift your head, even just a little, but the wave of dizziness and trembling that overtook you made it almost impossible to move.

“Shh... Come on, get up slowly and carefully. Let me help you. That bruise looks nasty,” another voice said softly, this one closer to you.

They helped you up, letting you lean on them for support as you steadied yourself, focusing on placing one foot in front of the other. Squinting, you tried to make out who it was, though you already knew.

“Painter… Seb’s—” you murmured weakly, trying to get him to stop the sudden impulsiveness of the other man.

“I know. That idiot’s trying to act tough,” Painter cut you off, rolling his eyes at the unfolding situation.

“You want to put on a show for the whole school? Fine, Solace! Let’s see how you handle this!”

Clay’s voice sent a shiver down your spine as you watched the scene play out in front of you.

Clay was advancing, his steps slow but deliberate. Sebastian instinctively stepped back, trying to keep some distance, his eyes locked on Clay’s movements, searching for any clue of his intentions.

But the gap between them was closing rapidly, the circle of onlookers around them seeming to shrink with every passing moment. Each step back was a concession, and each step forward from Clay was a reminder of who was in control.

“DON’T BE A COWARD!”

That shout rang out like the toll of a bell, marking the inevitable start of what was about to happen.

Clay lunged forward, his fist raised, ready to land a solid blow. As he closed the last few inches between them, he swung with brutal force, grabbing Sebastian roughly and shoving him back. The shove was so forceful it left Sebastian struggling to regain his balance.

Sebastian didn’t waste a second to catch his breath. He recovered immediately, ignoring his body’s cries for rest; there was no time for that now.

“Uppercut him. NOW” Painter shouted, almost as agitated as Sebastian himself at the sight of his friend fighting.

Without hesitation, Sebastian followed Painter’s instruction.

His fist shot upward with calculated precision, aiming for his attacker.

The sound of the impact was the only thing that could be heard in the courtyard—a crack that left more than a few eyes wide at the sheer violence of the scene. Clay’s jaw snapped upward with the force of the punch, sending him stumbling back, reeling from the sudden blow.

Clay forced his gaze back toward Sebastian, his face twisted into a deranged grin full of rage.

Just as he opened his mouth to speak, the furious voice of a new arrival shattered the overwhelming silence of the courtyard.

“Solace and Torres! I want both of you in my office NOW!” bellowed the principal, his uncontrolled fury directed at the two named offenders.

. . . . . . . . . .

“That was stupid.”

Silence.

“Impulsive. Way too impulsive.”

Silence.

“Something you’d never do. Especially getting involved in something like this.”

Silence.

“Did I mention how much of an idiot you were?” You tightened the bandage around his palm.

“Ow!” he hissed, wincing at the sting from your touch.

You shot him a glare, still struggling to understand why his foolish mind had decided to intervene and start a fight—especially one that escalated so violently.

He avoided your eyes, turning his head to the side, causing strands of his dark hair to fall across his forehead like a curtain, partially obscuring his vision.

You let out an audible sigh, one that sounded more like an exasperated groan than anything else.

Your hand was still holding Sebastian’s as you finished wrapping the bandage. Even though his palm had small, raw scrapes, his touch was warm and comforting. A part of you didn’t want to pull away.

“I just… I felt awful seeing him hit you, and I couldn’t do anything. You didn’t deserve that—especially not from a guy like him!” he muttered, pressing his other palm against his cheek in frustration.

He looked endearing like this, grumbling while trying to explain why he’d felt the need to protect you from someone like that.

“Don’t worry about it anymore, okay? I’m fine, and so are you,” you reassured him, offering a soft smile.

A faint hum, something like an “mmh,” escaped his lips.

You laughed a little more at his antics, catching a brief glimpse of crimson red coloring his cheeks. How cute.

[urfavnewgirl]

waitwzitwzit i'm obsessed with the way you write jason and i saw you wanted more jason requests SOOOOO what about a fic of some nighttime kitchen activity and there's some slow jazz playing somewhere, maybe the window's open and the music from a club is drifting in and reader starts dancing and jason's like okkkk ily i will dance too and they dance togzther and it's ugghhhhh

this is kinda short im SO sorry but here u go bb! thanks for giving me an excuse to listen to strangers in the night on loop... also nawt proofread im afraid.

it's seven pm on a friday. normally, he'd be out on patrol by now, embraced by the night sky and the eerie air of gotham. normally. except nothing was normal anymore, not since he met you. breaking his usual routine, he's sitting in your cramped, tiny apartment kitchen, eyes fixated on your form. you had insisted he take the day off. it took a lot of convincing, but he had complied, partly because of the ever present fatigue plaguing his mind, partly because he could not deny you, not when you were looking at him all pouty and doe-eyed.

the room smells like herbs, tomato sauce, and you. if someone asked him to describe the latter, he would not be able to. what he knew, however, what he was certain of with every fibre of his body, was that you, present in three out of his five senses, was the most comforting feeling he'd had felt in a while. you, effortlessly moving from the sink to the stove, to the cabinet and all the way back. you, taking care of him. you, in general.

“you do know i'm capable of stirring, right?” 

you squint your eyes at him in response, waving the sauce-coated wooden spoon in front of his face. “nope. not happening. i am cooking for you tonight, end of discussion. besides, i'm almost done, anyway.”

“are you ever not stubborn?”

“are you ever not incapable of letting people do things for you?”

he sighs, shaking his head. “you do too much for me.”

rolling your eyes, you simply ignore his statement and continue working. the noodles are bubbling away on the stove, the sauce is simmering, and you're in the middle of it all, walking over to the kitchen window to allow some fresh air in. eight minutes pass in silence, and you drain the pasta water, carefully slipping the spaghetti into the pan to finish cooking in the red liquid.

that's when you hear it. the music, coming from the small bar situated in the building next door. it starts simple, your spoon following the movements of the song. he notices, of course, but he does not react immediately. it's only when your body sways as well, when you lift up the wooden instrument, use it as an impromptu microphone, that his eyebrows heighten in amusement. you turn to face him with an overdramatically serious expression.

“what? never heard of the man, the myth, the legend, frank sinatra? or are his ties to the mafia too problematic for you?”

he shakes his head in disbelief, tries to resist it, but ends up grinning. stupidly. when you notice his reaction, your dancing exaggerates even more.

“you're an idiot.”

“yeah. i am,” you walk to his side of the counter, slyly pausing in front of him, “but you love me, so,” your hand grasps his, and you pull him off the chair with no difficulty (because he's putty when it comes to you. basically play dough. kinetic sand.), “you're dancing with me.”

he rolls his eyes, but at the same time, he wraps both arms around your waist with no hesitation, leans his forehead against yours, and as always, you cannot tell whether you're suddenly running a fever, or if the warmth embracing your every cell stems solely from his soft touch. 

the song changes, and you nearly stumble from excitement. he catches you before you fall.

“sweetheart,” he mumbles, voice low, “you don't even know how to waltz, do you?”

you break away from his face to meet his eyes. “you can waltz to jazz music?”

that gets a laugh out of him. a real one, one you can't scowl at, even if you momentarily want to. 

he pulls you closer, adjusts your stance. one hand on his shoulder, another resting in his grasp. “just let me lead.” he does exactly that, and he does it with surprising smoothness. his grip is just firm enough to guide you, but it is gentle enough to still be reminiscent of a lover's touch. somehow, he always manages to find that balance with you.

when the music quiets down, you pull back to ask him a million questions, but you stop at the sight in front of you. the kitchen is dimly lit, the sky has given way to complete darkness, and your beautiful boyfriend is staring at you as if you are the finest work of art exhibited in the louvre, his pupils wide enough to reflect the moon through the window.

“jay?”

“about what you said earlier, uh...”

“what? you mean frank sinatra and the mafia? you know i don't condone all that, but chicago is a really good-”

he huffs out yet another laugh. “no, baby, not that. you,” he clears his throat, eyes briefly flickering to the floor before finding yours once more, “you said i loved you, and-” he sighs.

“i do. love you, i mean. yeah.”

once you register his words, your entire face softens. you reach forward, cupping his face the way he likes it, and kiss him. its soft, slow, and he returns it just the same way.

“i love you too.”

he smiles, leans in once more, but you pull back, nose scrunched in discomfort.

 “FUCK. the food. it's burnt.”

he sighs. “...we're getting pizza.”

[ironarrow87]

Won’t You Smile Just For Me?

Summary: You're having a bad few days. Your friend offers you a ticket to see the infamous radio host live. Can he help lighten your mood?

Warnings: Mentions of blood, implied death

Notes: Currently obsessed with Daisies by Black Gryph0n. Decided to make a a story out of it and shove dear lovely reader into it!

As always, please do not copy or post my work elsewhere.

You actually had no desire to be here. You’d rather be home, in bed, shutting out the world. It was your miserable attitude for the last few days that brought you here, in this audience, for a live show you had little interest in. Your friend had offered you their ticket, pushed it on you even.

“You’ll have a great time!”

“I don’t even know who that is!”

“You’ve never heard of him? Are you kidding? His radio show is so popular right now!”

“I dunno…I’d rather stay home. Didn’t you want to go?”

“You’ve been home for days! I’m worried about you. Please go. You’ll have a great time, I swear. Promise me you’ll go?”

“…okay. I promise.”

So, here you sat, alone in a crowd full of people. Your legs bounced with anxiety as everyone murmured in hushed excitement around you. Hunching your shoulders in an effort to get as small as possible, you hid your face in a cup of tea the staff had served moments before.

As you took a sip of the much needed warmth, you hear the crowd around you buzz with excitement as a man with brown hair and eyes, tanned skin, and a charming grin stretched across his face walks onto the stage. You lower your mug as you listen to him address the audience.

"Well, well, well, my dearest audience! A very good afternoon to all of you lovely souls! I must say, it is a delight, a true pleasure, to have such a fabulous crowd gathered here today—oh, the excitement! I can hardly contain myself!"

He bows and then spreads his arms wide when he stands back up. “Now, now, settle down! Allow me to introduce myself to those who do not know me. Although not knowing who I am by now is quite the feat, haha!”

You swear his eyes zero in on you, and your face burns with embarrassment. You try to hide your face behind your teacup again.

“My name is Alastor, and the majority of you know me from my radio broadcast.” He gives a little bow again, eyes flitting across the room before landing on you again. As if he knew you didn’t know of him. Not really. He broadens his grin to the crowd, twirling the microphone staff in his hands with the familiarity of someone who has done this hundreds of times.

“Now then, on with the show!

-

It was easy to see why people adored this man. Adorned in a tight fitted red satin vest and dark slacks, he easily captured the audience with songs and stories told in a velvety smooth voice. The charisma that radiated off of him had the audience hanging off his every word and tune.

Though you didn’t want to come in the first place, you found yourself dreading the end of this live in-person show. The very idea brought tears to your eyes as you thought of the empty lonely apartment that awaited you when it was over. To your horror, some tears raced down your cheeks, and you rush to rub them away from your cheeks in the middle of this public setting.

"This show, my friends, was about more than just entertainment! It's about the unforgettable moments that we created. The laughter, the drama, the wonder! The heart-pounding thrills that leave you questioning everything you thought you knew about good old-fashioned fun!"

Alastor’s energy was infectious, and you could feel the people around you just about squirming in their seats as the show drew to a close. “"Ahhh, my wonderful audience, how quickly the time slips away, doesn’t it? You know what they say, time flies when you’re having fun, haha!” He pauses briefly to allow the audience to laugh along with him. “The afternoon was filled with such delightful moments, such charming chaos, and yet—all good things must come to an end, I’m afraid. I do hope you’ll carry the memory with you—like a sweet little song you can’t quite shake, hm?" The crowd matches his suggestive grin as Alastor set the stage for his final piece for the afternoon.

You swallow thickly as his piercing eyes landed on you yet again. He gives you a little wink before starting in on his verse. “Hey pal, hey friend, hey buddy, why so sad, so downright unhappy?” Your heart stills in your chest at the words. He couldn’t be talking about you directly, could he? You follow his movements as he steps off the stage and into the crowd. The radio host moves closer to you, bending at the waist to sing inches from your face. “That's not my cup of tea.” Alastor’s grin widens as you flush. Straightening up, Alastor continues moving through the crowd.

“You know that this could be your last day here on Earth, so buddy please.” He turns, charming smile gracing his features. His eyes land on you once again, and he winks. “Won't you smile just for me?”

-

You really aren’t sure why you stayed long after everyone had filtered out. You tell yourself that its because the performance has you energized, that Alastor changed your outlook on the future, but honestly, its because you’re afraid to go home. Back to the sadness that seeps into your bones and makes you want to hide away all day.

You sigh, gathering your things and finally ready to trudge home when a voice stops you.

“My, my, still here after my show has long finished? I must have left quite the impression.”

Your startled gaze meets Alastor’s. You meant to be polite to this infamous radio host, but instead you blurt out, “What are you doing here?” Thankfully, Alastor laughs receptively to your question.

“I suppose that’s a fair question. I left something behind, and I didn’t want to worry my staff about collecting it so late after work hours. It was my own mistake, after all, silly me.”

You nod dumbly, unsure how to detangle yourself from this interaction. You clearly spend too long figuring this out because Alastor is already asking you another question.

“Is something troubling you, my dear?” The words are so unexpected, so jarring in this moment, that you felt tears spring to your eyes. You desperately scramble to hide your vulnerability.

“Ah...yeah. Why do you ask?”

Alastor tuts lightly, adjusting his bowtie briefly. “Come now, I’m very good at reading people, my dear. I can tell something is bothering you.”

His insistence in focusing on your distress causes a few tears to fall. You curse yourself for being so weak, for falling apart so quickly at a stranger’s concern as you hurriedly scrub the tears away.

To your surprise, his arms wrap around you and pull you close into his chest, as if he was sheltering you from the world from any danger. His warm embrace smelled of bergamot, leather, amber…and something you just couldn’t quite place. Something…earthy? Or maybe metallic? You’re pulled out of your thoughts as Alastor resumes speaking.

“My dear, my dear, no, you don't have to cry. That ain't a pretty legacy to leave behind.” You give him a watery smile as you recognize the lyrics from his earlier song.

“S-sorry,” you breathe out, stepping away from his hold. He waves you off.

“Nonsense, my dear, we all get out of sorts from time to time.” You nod in agreement, quick to end this social hell you’ve put yourself into. This man, so charming and kind, was trying to cheer you up, but here you were mute and near tears. Ridiculous.

Alastor lifts your chin suddenly, warm brown eyes behind wire bespectacles looking into yours. “You may not have to tell me about what’s running through your mind, dear, but perhaps I could offer you some sort of reprieve for a few moments? Let me show you the entertainment, the pleasures the world has to offer, hm?”

He offers his arm to you, and you hesitate just for a moment. The grin on his face is so kind, so eager to please, that you take the offer. “Excellent! Now, one more thing before we head off into our adventure together.”

“What’s that?”

He looks down at you, his height easily making you feel small before him. “Won’t you smile just for me?”

You give a tiny laugh. And you smile.

-

You just about forget all the things that have been worrying, stressing, and tugging you down into the depths of despair for the last few days. At least — for a little while. It was no wonder Alastor’s show was so popular. He had a way with showing you the magic in everything.

He walks you through parks and gardens, pointing out the beauty and weaving stories for you as you went. You barely pay attention to where you’re heading, and to be honest, you’re not sure you care right now. He made you feel safe, alive even. Like all the sadness had melted from your body.

"You know I just gotta say, that you might not have a lot of time to waste," he teased, pinching your cheek suddenly. "So lose that long face."

You bat at his hand, laughing, only to find a bright red rose in your face that Alastor had plucked straight from a bush. "Stop and smell the roses while you've got the time." He grins as you inhaled the lovely floral scent he offered you. "Pretty soon you'll be pushing up daisies where the sun don't shine."

You blink, startled by his words, but eventually laugh as you take it to be more teasing from the radio host. Or at the very least, some wisdom he's trying to impart on you about life.

Alastor laughs with you as he guides you onto a forest path.

-

You have no idea how long you have been walking. It feels like forever, and somehow, like no time at all. Alastor did a great job entertaining you through your entire journey, hands animatedly moving as he recounted stories of his life through the entertainment industry. You hang onto his every word, desperate for a distraction from your own life. Besides, how lucky were you to be spending time with such a celebrity? You'd have to thank your friend for the ticket they forced on you.

Deeper and deeper into the woods, you start to really enjoy the woodsy smells, the sounds of little animals and birds flitting about, and the rustle and crunch of leaves as you you both made your way through. You had long run out of the typical paths, exploring uncharted territory together.

"Oh ho! What's this?" You follow Alastor's gaze to a little wooden shack just ahead. You shift uneasily beside him, the sun setting causing shadows to cast an eerie air around the small hut.

"Ah...I dunno if we should head over there. What if some lunatic lives there?"

Alastor laughs loudly beside you, making you jump a little. "My dear! Where's your sense of adventure? Let's just take a little peek!" He looks to you, eyes searching, hopeful, but ultimately leaving the decision up to you. You felt your fear slip away at his expression, nodding your assent. He grins at you. "Fabulous, dear!"

He leads you up to the door, and you felt a sense of unease as the door easily swung inward with a gentle push from Alastor's hand. Still, trying to be brave and prove yourself worthy of the radio host's time, you follow suit with a big grin on your face.

It died just as quickly as it came about.

On the walls of the little hut were rows and rows of fixed smiles upon placards. Little name tags adorned the jawbones and teeth. Vox. Valentino. Husker. Anthony. So many names that made your head spin.

"W-what..." You choke on your words, bile rising in your throat. What the hell did you both stumble upon? "Alastor...let's get out of here!" The panic was evident in your voice as you turn to look at your new friend.

Your new friend who had his back to you, hands moving as he cleaned something.

Your new friend who turned, brandishing a newly cleaned axe, tossing a red stained towel to the ground.

Your new friend whose glasses glinted with the last of the light from the setting sun.

"Alastor?" you ask, voice strained, small, and full of fear.

He grins.

"Run."

-

Your lungs burn as your race your way through the trees, blinking back panicked tears. Only now you recognized all the warning signs you blissfully ignored in favor of temporary relief. The narrowing of his gaze during his performance. Tracking you through each set. Marking his target, who was obviously attending his show alone. Conveniently coming back when you were by yourself. The sharpness of his grin when you agreed to come along with him. The smell of blood on him. Or was it metal blades? Maybe the forest earth? Maybe it was all of them.

You had been so foolish.

You pant behind a tree as you try to force oxygen into your lungs, listening for your hunter. That's what he was after all, wasn't he? And you?

His prey.

You hear branches snap in the distance. Then some whistling. Humming even.

"None of us are here to stay, so treat every day like it's a holiday. Until the day you slip away." To your horror, you realize he's singing more of his song. He's taunting you. Telling you how he's had this planned since the beginning.

You start running again.

-

"Tsk, my dear, my dear, no, you don't have to cry."

You stare up at Alastor, frozen in fear, knees stinging from where you hit the ground. Your back was pressed up against a rock wall. Trapped.

"P-please. Don't hurt me." You swear you see his canines lengthen in his toothy grin as he advances toward you. He continues as if you weren't begging for your life before him.

"That ain't a pretty legacy to leave behind."

Your heart is beating erratically. It may give out before he even has a chance to hurt you. If you were so lucky.

But you both knew you weren't.

It was as if time slowed as you watched Alastor, the infamous celebrity, the radio host, the adored entertainer, raise the axe above his head. And for a brief moment, his eyes and hair seem to gleam red.

"Stop and smell the roses while you've got the time."

It was over quickly. A sharp pain. And then blackness. A mercy.

Alastor laughs, ignoring the sound of dogs in the distance as thrill thrums through his veins. He savored the blood pooling on the forest floor. Your smile was going to make an excellent new addition to his collection.

"Pretty soon you'll be pushing up daisies where the sun don't shine."

[youngsadlesbian]

Hi, I was wondering do you write fics about Gracie Abrams too or?

I need more Sadie Sink fics, I mean I’ve been obsessed w her for years and still I am but here there’s lack of fics about her😭

STILL A SONG FOR YOU | gracie abrams x reader

summary: years after drifting apart, you discover gracie abrams' song about you. determined to fix the past, you reunite—only to realize your feelings never truly faded.

a/n: i never wrote to gracie despite really liking her songs. and for sure i’m going to write some things for sadie, feel free to send me some requests. anyway, i hope you like it <3

word count: 2k

warnings: minor angst but mostly fluff.

The song played softly through the speakers of a small record store, wrapping around you like a ghost from the past.

At first, you thought you were imagining it. The gentle strumming of a guitar, the familiar cadence of a voice you hadn’t heard in years.

But then the lyrics hit.

And they felt like you.

You turned toward the sound, heart hammering, and saw the album cover displayed beside the register.

Gracie Abrams. Still a Song for You.

The title alone made your breath hitch.

Hands trembling, you picked up the vinyl, running your fingers over the cover. Her face stared back at you, older, sharper in some ways but still the same Gracie. The same girl who once knew you better than anyone else.

The girl you had loved.

You didn’t realize you were holding your breath until the cashier spoke. “You’re a fan?”

A short laugh escaped you. Fan. The word didn’t feel quite right.

“Yeah,” you murmured. “Something like that.”

You weren’t sure what compelled you to buy the album, but an hour later, you were sitting cross-legged on your apartment floor, the record spinning as her voice filled the room.

And each lyric—each aching, carefully chosen word—felt like an echo of the past.

Like she was singing about you.

Gracie had walked into your life when you were fifteen, a whirlwind of nervous laughter and ink-stained fingers.

She was the new girl at school, awkward but effortlessly cool in a way she didn’t even seem to realize. You sat next to each other in English class, and one day, when she caught you scribbling song lyrics in the margins of your notebook, she whispered, “Is that Taylor Swift?”

That was all it took.

From that moment on, you were inseparable.

She was your best friend, your safe place. The person who made even the most mundane days feel like something special.

Afternoons were spent lying on your bedroom floor, headphones shared as you picked apart melodies and wrote your own lyrics in messy scrawl. You learned the way she bit her lip when she was concentrating, the way she laughed with her whole body, the way she felt like home.

And somewhere along the way, friendship blurred into something else.

Something terrifying.

Something you never had the courage to name.

Maybe you could’ve said it the night of your high school graduation, when you sat on the hood of her car, staring at the stars, wondering what would happen next.

Maybe you could’ve said it the last time you saw her, before college and music pulled you in different directions, before promises to keep in touch faded into silence.

But you didn’t.

And now, years later, she was singing words you had once been too afraid to say.

You should’ve ignored it. Let the past stay buried where it belonged.

But when you saw the flyer taped to the café window…

Gracie Abrams. One Night Only.

You knew you had to go.

The venue was small, intimate, the kind of place meant for music that felt like confessions.

You hovered near the back, nerves twisting in your stomach as people filled the space, murmuring excitement. A single microphone stood on stage, surrounded by warm, golden lighting.

And then—

She walked in.

Gracie moved through the dim glow like a dream, guitar in hand, that same nervous energy clinging to her like it always had. But when she smiled at the audience, when she tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear and stepped up to the mic—

She looked happy.

“Hi,” she said, voice soft but steady. “Thank you for being here.”

The crowd cheered, but you barely heard it past the pounding of your heart.

“I wrote this next one about someone I used to know,” she continued, fingers tightening around her guitar. “Someone I never got to say everything I wanted to.”

And then she started playing.

And it shattered you.

Because the song was you.

Every verse, every aching chord—it was your friendship, your laughter, the words you never had the courage to speak.

It was a love story that never got its ending.

Gracie’s eyes flickered over the crowd, scanning, searching—

Until they landed on you.

And in that moment, the music stopped being just a song.

It became a conversation.

A question.

When the concert ended, you thought about leaving. You almost did.

But before you could disappear into the night, a voice stopped you.

“Wait.”

You turned.

And there she was.

Closer than she had been in years.

“Gracie.” Her name felt fragile on your lips, like it might break if you said it too loud.

She stared at you, wide-eyed, like she wasn’t sure if she was dreaming. “You came.”

“I heard the album.” You swallowed, forcing a small smile. “I think I was always meant to.”

Something flickered across her face—something raw and real and impossible to ignore.

Neither of you spoke for a long moment.

Then, quietly—

“Was it about me?”

Gracie let out a shaky breath. “Yeah.”

Your heart twisted. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Why didn’t you?”

Fair enough.

A breeze rustled between you, carrying the weight of all the things you never said.

Gracie bit her lip, glancing down before meeting your eyes again. “Do you want to get out of here?”

You exhaled a laugh. “I thought you’d never ask.”

And as she reached for your hand, fingers slotting perfectly between yours—

You knew this time, neither of you would let go.

The streets outside the venue were quiet, bathed in the warm glow of streetlights. The chill of the night air bit at your skin, but Gracie’s hand in yours was warm—grounding, like an anchor in the storm of emotions swirling inside you.

Neither of you spoke at first. The weight of the past, the unspoken words, the years lost to silence—it all hung between you like a fragile thread waiting to snap.

It wasn’t until you reached the corner of the street, away from the fading sounds of the small show, that Gracie finally broke the silence.

“I almost didn’t play that song tonight,” she admitted, voice barely above a whisper. “I didn’t think you’d ever hear it.”

You swallowed hard. “I almost didn’t come.”

Her fingers tightened around yours for just a second before she let go, shoving her hands into the pockets of her jacket. “So why did you?”

The answer was simple and yet impossibly difficult.

“Because I missed you.”

Gracie exhaled a soft, shaky laugh, shaking her head as if she couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “God, I missed you too.”

She glanced up at you then, eyes shining under the dim streetlights, searching your face for something—an answer, maybe. Reassurance that this was real.

And you knew, without a doubt, that it was.

There was a coffee shop just down the street, the kind that stayed open late for musicians and night owls alike. You found yourselves there, tucked into a quiet booth near the window, two cups of coffee growing cold between you.

The past sat between you like an unfinished song.

“So,” you started, tapping your fingers against the ceramic cup. “Tell me about the album.”

Gracie smiled, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “I guess it started as a way to process everything. Losing you, growing up, all of it.” She hesitated, eyes flickering to yours. “Some songs came easier than others.”

Your throat felt tight. “And the one from tonight?”

She exhaled a small laugh, shaking her head. “That one took years.”

You let the words settle, let them wrap around your ribs like something painful and beautiful all at once.

“I always wondered,” you admitted softly. “If you ever thought about me.”

Gracie’s expression softened, something unreadable flashing across her face. “Are you kidding? You were everywhere.”

The confession sent your heart tumbling into your stomach.

“I wanted to reach out,” she continued. “A hundred times. A thousand. But I didn’t know if you wanted me to.”

You let out a breathy laugh, shaking your head. “I thought the same thing.”

Her lips quirked into a smile—small, a little sad, but real.

“God, we were idiots.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at that. “Yeah. We really were.”

A pause. A shift. A moment where the weight of everything was just there, pressing against your ribs.

Then, quieter—

“Do you still want me to?”

Gracie’s voice was barely above a whisper, her eyes searching yours, waiting for an answer.

Your heart stuttered in your chest.

And for the first time in years, you weren’t afraid of the truth.

“Yes.”

Relief flickered across her face, raw and unguarded.

“Okay.”

It wasn’t everything. It wasn’t an instant fix.

But it was a start.

And maybe, just maybe—

It was the beginning of something even better.

The night stretched on, turning into morning before either of you realized it.

The café closed, forcing you back onto the quiet streets. But neither of you were ready to say goodbye—not yet.

So, without thinking, you murmured, “Come over.”

Gracie’s breath caught, her lips parting slightly in surprise.

She studied you, as if trying to make sure you meant it.

And when she saw that you did, she nodded.

Your apartment was small but cozy, filled with books, half-burnt candles, and the lingering scent of vanilla. Gracie wandered in like she belonged there—because in some ways, she always had.

Her fingers traced the edges of the record player in the corner, eyes flickering to the stack of vinyls beside it. That same small, knowing smile pulled at her lips.

“You still listen to sad music at ungodly hours, huh?”

You laughed, shrugging off your jacket. “Some habits never die.”

Gracie turned then, meeting your gaze. There was something different in her expression now—softer, warmer, but still laced with something unspoken.

She hesitated, then asked, “Can I play something?”

You nodded, watching as she carefully pulled out a record—one of hers.

The first notes filled the room, and your breath caught.

It was the song. Your song.

Gracie’s voice filled the space between you, raw and unfiltered.

The two of you stood there, suspended in time, letting the melody say everything you couldn’t.

And then—

“You were the one, you know.”

The words slipped out before you could stop them.

Gracie inhaled sharply, eyes wide.

“Back then,” you clarified, voice softer. “You were the one.”

Silence.

Then, after what felt like an eternity—

“So were you.”

And maybe you still were.

Gracie took a step closer, and suddenly she was right there, inches away, close enough for you to see the way her pulse fluttered at her throat.

You swallowed hard, the air shifting between you.

“Can I kiss you?” she asked, voice barely above a whisper.

Your breath hitched.

And then you were nodding, heart pounding as she reached up, fingers trembling slightly as she cupped your face—

And kissed you.

It was soft at first, hesitant, like she was afraid you might disappear. But when you melted into her, when your hands found her waist and pulled her closer, it turned into something deeper.

Something that felt like coming home.

When you finally pulled away, breathless and wide-eyed, Gracie let out a small, breathy laugh.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that.”

You smiled, forehead resting against hers.

“Yeah,” you murmured. “I think I do.”

The morning sun streamed through the windows, painting the room in golden light.

Gracie was still there, curled up beside you on the couch, a lazy smile tugging at her lips.

“I don’t want to lose you again,” she murmured, voice thick with sleep.

You reached for her hand, lacing your fingers together.

“You won’t.”

And this time, you meant it.

[starryevermore]

the house of snow (epilogue) ✧ coriolanus snow

the house of snow ✧ a royal coryo au | pinterest board| ao3

pairing: king!coriolanus snow x fem!reader

series summary: the king of panem is in search of a bride. and, for reasons you can never understand, coriolanus snow has set his sights on you. it would never be a happy marriage, you’re sure of that. but none of that matters, because when snow decides he wants something, he will do everything in his power to ensure it is his. 

chapter summary: life is good. 

word count: 943

series warnings?: 18+ MINORS DNI, royal au, regency au, arranged marriage, rivals to lovers, obsessive!coryo, jealous!coryo, protective!coryo, eventual smut, eventual pregnancy, more tags to be added later

chapter warnings?: fluff, time jump, pet name (petal), not proofread

“I do not like the way he is looking at her.”

You stifled a laugh. “You do not like the way any man looks at her.”

Coriolanus peered down his nose at the young man asking Persephone for a dance. He was a fine fellow, for any other woman. But Coriolanus, as a King and as a Father, demanded only the best for his daughter. And the men here certainly had a high hurdle to jump. “No one here is good enough for her.”

“Not every man spends years pining for a girl, asking her father for her hand for five years, and climb all of the way to the top to make it happen.”

“If they cared, they would.”

“For that to happen, we would have to be dead for them to take the throne.” When Coriolanus was silent, you looked to him with wide eyes. “Coryo, surely you did not—”

“I would move the heavens and the earth for you, as any devoted husband should, and that is all you need to do.”

“We are talking about this when we retire to our chambers.”

It was hard to imagine that Persephone had now made her debut to society. Coriolanus hated it. You knew he still saw her as the little bundle at Rosemary Cottage. His only solace was that his other daughters, Delphinium and Hepatica, were still too young to even think about boys and marriage and the like. Of course, he still had to tend to the ton’s whispered insistence you had failed your duty as a wife by not providing a son. Coriolanus was quick to put those whispers to bed when he heard them, with more tact that your quick tongue would provide. Even still, did it matter when he intended to change the law so one of his daughters would inherit the throne? Coriolanus worked so hard for the throne and the respect it demanded. He was hardly going to risk the chance of some fool taking control when you and him pass. Besides, it would hardly be a challenge when he so easily convinced the Electors that you would rule should Coriolanus pass before you. 

Coriolanus loosed out a laugh when he saw the sneer Persephone shot the poor fellow who deigned to ask her for a dance. 

“Be good,” you chastised. “A dance is all it can take for her to find her love match. You should be encouraging her to be so judgmental.”

“It worked out well for you, did it not?”

Your nose crinkled at him. “That is hardly the point I am making, Coriolanus.”

“Oh, we’re using my full name now, then? I should begin begging soon, shouldn’t I?”

A hand touched your arm before you could retort. Hepatica, despite her father's orders to remain in bed because only drama unfolds when she comes to a ball, had snuck in. She smiled up at you, full of mischief. 

“Might I have a dance, Mama?”

Coriolanus was already schooling her with a frustrated look. A true handful she would be when she’s older. But at ten, the worst she does is sneak into balls for one dance, and you could never deny her. 

“Just one, and then it’s off to bed with you, alright?”

Hepatica beamed, already pulling you to the center of the floor as the next song began. 

Coriolanus watched as the two of you swayed together, Hepatica barely knowing the steps you tried to lead her through. Persephone slid into the dance once she realized it had begun, holding onto one of your hand’s and one of Hepatica’s as it became less of a structured waltz and more of a round of ring around the the rosey. Delphinium, at the age of fourteen and had been allowed to come to the ball for a few hours, abandoned the lemonade table and quickly joined. Some of the more persnickety lords hardly hid their annoyed looks as they danced around the floor, the occasional elbow being knocked into sides. Most, however, had become used to the antics of the revered House of Snow. 

The space you had left next to Coriolanus was soon filled by an unexpected companion. Your mother watched you spin around the room, not a care in the world. Coriolanus still expected the worst of her, and already steeled himself for whatever remark she would make. 

“She found her love match after all,” she mused, eyes shining with something unfamiliar. “I have never seen her so happy since she was but a girl.”

“That’s what happens when a person doesn’t try to stifle her.”

Your mother looked up at him, a ghost of a smile on her face. “All I ever wanted for her was security. I thought it better than love. In the end, that’s all her father gave me after we wed. I worried that the infatuation you had for her would face if I did not keep her in check. I realize now, of course, that I was terribly misguided.”

“I love her thorns and all.”

“That is more than I could dream for her. I am glad she has you.”

“I am the one who should be glad.” And then he smiled, too. “Come over for lunch tomorrow. The girls miss you.”

Your mother nodded, then stepped onto the dance floor and took a spot between Delphinium and Persephone. Your smile broadened, and Coriolanus found himself pulled toward you, too. He took your hand, and Hepatica’s, and spun around the room until he was dizzy.

“I love you,” he whispered. 

“I love you!” you shouted. 

And that was more than he could ever hope for. 

FIN.

[npookie0]

Reader x Ronin, alternate ‘good’ ending where instead of kissing or stabbing Ronin the reader decides to stab themself as a form of dedication to Ronin? He said he wanted a body, and they were more than willing for him to get their heart (literally)

I fear this may be too dark, so please ignore it if you don’t feel comfortable with it ❤️ I understand themes like this can be uncomfortable to write !!

Submitting Your Aorta to The Devil.

Btw this fanfic has a playlist that I just dug up (It has like 6 songs I think LOL) but here ya go, reader darlings

Link

☪︎ ･ﾟ ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆･ﾟ ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･❂

Trigger Warnings

Gore

Blood

Su1c1d3

Spoilers for Ronin ending

Obsession

Ronin™

6 tws? Hah, that's a devilish number...

☪︎ ･ﾟ ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆･ﾟ ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･❂

This was the day.

The day on which you would meet your beloved Devil. Oh that man who drove you absolutely crazy. The man who made a fool out of you with words alone.

Now here you are, in front of the purgatory, dressed up for that special occasion in your favourite clothes. You put your hand to your heart, the organ was beating so loud, the sound was ringing in your ears.

You took a deep breath to calm you excitement before you stepped into the damned alley. There was gore splattered all over the walls, grafity hidden behind blood and guts, body parts laying on the ground like regular trash. Most people would throw up at such sight, but you my love are far from being like most people, your morality is gone at least most of it.

No normal person would stay in that server and dance with the devil just to end up wrapped around his fingers.

Ronin took his sweet time shaping you into whatever your current form was. He was your muse, but you were his canvas. The canvas he had complete control over...

You didn't have to wait long for him to arrive. You heard the sound of heavy steps from behind and a quiet chuckle, chuckle you know oh so well.

"So we meet!" He said, his voice excited and amused. You turned around and scoffed at his shit-eating grin.

"Always the devil Ronin Beaufort."

"Aren't you a pleasure?" He chuckled at your answer and walked up to you dangerously close. "Gotta say, seein' you in person makes me feel some type of way. An' I wonder how you feel about, well..." He paused and pinned you to the wall.

Mouth close to your ear, hot breath against the sensitive skin of your neck. Oh how beautiful your devilish lover is. You felt the blush creep onto your cheeks, your breath hitching in your throat.

"Do you like me now, darlin'?" His voice dark, full of mystery and fascination, The closure makes the butterflies in your stomach fight to rip it open and fly out of your body in a bloody massacre.

"I do." You replied without any hesitation. Why lie? The devil knows you too well anyway.

"Oh, to speak the truth, the truth, anything but the truth!" Ronin's eyes are full of confidence, and something else, something way darker that is buried deeper, deep enough so unwanted eyes won't see. "Write me a love note, darlin'?" He asked in mocking amusement.

"I know your name , I could end you." Lie. Of course you wouldn't end him. Your lungs are filled with him, your brain can think only of him. You could never call the police on him.

"Hah! Coulda, woulda, shoulda." He started, looking deep into you eyes. "You could end me, you should end me, but would'ja end me?" His whispers filled your ears, caused you to shiver under his gaze.

"..." You didn't answer, didn't have to. It was the devil's speech after all.

"I don't think so! Where are the boys in blue? Why is it jus' us in my favourite gruesome alley? Why is that even after knowing who I am, you still wanna see me?" He paused, moved his mouth closer to your ear. "Some might say you're obsessed, even."

You took a deep calming breath. You couldn't just play his way now, could you?

"Why did you invite me to the server?" You asked in the most collected voice you could get out of your vocal cords.

"I did it for you. You were starving, so i gave you insatiability. You wanted inspiration, so i became your muse. You wanted love, darlin', so I gave you love. Isn't it everything you ever wanted?" The sound of his voice made your whole body boil. You wanted to do so many things right now. But you needed to listen to him, his words were like some sacred speech that was the most important moment in your entire life.

"I think you always knew. C'mon, why didn't you leave? Call the cops? There were so many... opportunities." Another pause. "If I may... I think you're a little too in love." He sounded like he had the greatest time of his life, just fucking with your head like he always did.

He gave you a new form, a new way of life. Ronin made you feel alive again. Oh but how could you thank him for that? What would satisfy the Devil?

"I told you baby. I'm your little wish fulfilment. I'm what you dream of. Isn't this a story for the ages?" He smirked. "C'mon! Tell me what you want. Do you hate me? Do you love me? Are you gonna kill me? I've got a knife right here. Or are you kissing me, darling? How much do you feel?" These words were what you needed.

Ronin has told you so many times about taking your aorta. He used his threat of slicing your throat open as love confessions. He wanted a body. So why don't you give him what he wants?

You smiled sweetly, innocently even.

You slowly moved you body closer to his, brushing you lips against his. But before Ronin could kiss you back, you snatched the knife away from him and without any second thought you stuck the knife deep into your chest, but far from the heart to avoid the most important muscle.

Ronin backed away in surprise, watching with wide opened eyes as blood splattered around your chest, turning your clothes dark red. He held you by firmly by your waist, shock in his eyes.

"What the hell Y/N?" He asked, voice shaken.

"You wanted a body Ronin, so I am offering my own as a proof of how crazy I am for you. Claim my aorta, steal it while I am still conscious." You had to take deep breaths, mixed with coughs while you spoke.

Ronin's expression was a mix of shock, love, fascination and a small amount of despair.

He chuckled darkly and kissed you hungrily, after all it was the last kiss you will ever share.

"Your wish is my command, darlin'. I will claim your aorta, steal it beating and hot." He whispered against your lips and you could feel him cutting you deeper with the knife, making it easier for him to take what was being gifted to him as a form of sacrifice for his love,

As your mind was somewhere between reality and death you could feel Ronin's skilled hands move inside of your chest, the sound of breaking bone and tore flesh was like the finest song for your sick romance. Ronin's hands were stained with your blood, it looked like every piece of your body wanted to be connected to Ronin to leave a stain on him forever.

Before you took your final breath and Ronin took what he wanted from the depths of your chest, he placed a kiss to your forehead and whispered against your hair.

"Thank you for this wonderful gift, my twisted fallen angel." And with that your heart was kept safe between the devil's fingers, where it was from the very beginning and your lifeless body was gently laid down in the centre of the purgatory.

Oh, what a beautiful love declaration it was.

[leighsartworks216]

Darlin' I'd Wait For You

Astarion x gn!Tav/Reader

Requested by propertyofjmiller on AO3:

“hiya ^^ super duper simple request; softly singing astarion to sleep as he's laying on tav's tummy and she's playing with his hair :) it could be set after his ‘good ending’ where you talk him out of ascending, so the relationship is established (if that's easier from a writing perspective) but i'm always for an emotionally constipated astarion who's still learning how to accept non-sexual intimacy 🤗 absolutely obsessing over your writing atm

JUST HAD A BRAIN WAVE. https://spotify.link/oCo4B63H0Db this song completely encapsulates the vibe”

It is currently 1 am I really wanted to write something and I'm so sleepy it only felt fitting to do this request. I have not proofread it at all but if I try to I will pass out so ✌️

Title based on "j's lullaby (darlin' i'd wait for you)" by Delaney Bailey

Warnings: none

Word Count: 943

Main Masterlist

First Baldur's Gate 3 Masterlist - Second Baldur's Gate 3 Masterlist

AO3

Tag List Form

He’s utterly restless. Maybe that shouldn’t be surprising - he was an elf who didn’t need to sleep like you did. A few hours’ meditation and he’d be perfectly fine. But it’s not like he’d never slept before. Even on your adventure, he found some solace in sleeping instead of meditating. So why couldn’t he sleep now?

Astarion sighs quietly, trying not to be loud despite the frustration that burns him up inside. He tries rolling over again, like it’ll help. He bites back another frustrated sigh.

You roll over to face him. Your lids are heavy and you look the embodiment of tiredness, but you smile softly at him. “Can’t sleep?” you whisper.

He does sigh this time, long and annoyed. “No,” he grumbles. You chuckle, but he knows it’s harmless. Still, he can’t help being a little hot-and-bothered by it. A bit ruder than is appropriate for so late at night, he bites out, “Sorry if I woke you.”

“It’s okay. I couldn’t sleep either.”

With a stifled yawn, you sit up. He watches, intrigued, as you prop up pillows behind you and lay back into them. Then you delicately touch his shoulder. Always so gentle. You never wanted to overwhelm him or overstep. It was still a new concept for him. You’d brush a finger against his while walking side by side to see if he wished to hold hands; you’d hover a hand near his lower back when you had to slip by, never quite touching; you’d reach a hand up toward his hair and wait for him to lean in or verbally tell you he wanted it, and if he didn’t respond at all or even slightly shook his head, your hand would drop back down and you’d smile so brightly at him. It made his head spin.

With your other hand, you pat your belly. “C’mon, I’ll sing to you.” Even this is an invitation he could refuse. But how can he, when he is so restless and your plush, warm skin is calling to him?

He crawls to lay on top of you - though, it’s more like he pulls himself across the space until he can drop his head into your stomach. You lightly trace your hand from his shoulder to his upper-back, giving him a warm sense of security. Your other hand brushes a curl from his face. He looks up at you, not fully resting his chin on you, for fear of pressing too hard.

You drag your fingers through his hair, lightly scratching your nails against his scalp. He leans into it, eyes closing at the sensation. When you reach the hairs on the back of his neck, you scratch and twirl your fingers to capture the stray little curls.

You hum as you finally pick what song you want to sing. You weren’t a bard, nor had you taken any voice lessons, but Astarion can’t help thinking you have the most perfect singing voice he’s ever heard. You can’t reach all the notes you want to, your voice warbles and falls a little flat, and sometimes you don’t remember the words. But he loves it all the same.

Darlin’, I’d wait for you

Even if you didn’t ask me to

Tie a lasso around the moon

And bring it on down to you

He turns to rest his ear against you. His arms slide underneath you, between your back and the pillows, and hold you like a child’s favorite toy.

I’d bottle the feeling you give me

And shelve that stuff for years to come

‘Cause, baby, when your arms are around me

I’d swear that I’m holding the sun

He smiles at the lyrics you sing so softly. You can’t help but smile, too.

You play with his hair unhurriedly, lazily. It’s always so soft. Your other hand rubs circle designs in between his shoulder blades. You easily avoid the scars beneath his sleep-shirt, so intimately familiar with his back in a way he would have hated before. He thinks he can make out sloppy elvish writing, but it’s hard to say. His mind is too sluggish to recall if you even know the language.

I’d give you the sun if you asked me

You could have all of time

You could have the stars and the trees

When dividin’ up the universe

You could have mine

You could have mine

His entire body relaxes into yours, until where you begin and he ends becomes a blur. Neither of you are eager to figure it out. Instead, you continue to sing your quiet lullaby. Your voice begins to trail off somewhere along the way, hands slowing and losing their rhythm. He can hear your breaths even out until you can no longer sing, fully claimed by your exhaustion.

He continues to lay there for a bit longer. He counts the seconds it takes for you to breathe in and out. He counts the beats of your heart as it slows to a steady pattern. Every so often, your fingers twitch in his hair or against his back, as though part of you is fighting to wake up again and continue taking care of him. But he’s already perfectly content right where he is. He is warm and safe, and you are warm and safe.

The dark tendrils of sleep crawl in from the outer edges of his mind until they overwhelm him. His dreams are filled with you - your voice, your smile, the way you feel in his arms, the way you touch him so tenderly. Come morning, he can experience it all for himself, but for now, he cherishes every second.

---

Tag List:

@hypopxia @flsalazar @beverlybeav @angelofthorr @emiemiemiii @marina-and-the-memes @aurasyn @furblrwurblr @cappsikle @mjmygd @thegirlsadventuresinwonderland @kindadolly @bloopthebat @pandimoostuff @chesb0red @black-star1472 @sessils @olitheghostboy-blog @puppyg1rl666 @maruichio @cyber-dump-171 @katharynmarie @twinkliker3000 @cherifrog @catching-fire-in-the-wind @phantoms-fandom-blog @thespectacularspaceace @lynnlovesthestars @sylverqueen_cosplay @yarn_yogi @tototini @teardropcup

[butchdiaz]

tagged by @iinryer to do a 2024 fic roundup but i'm adding my videos in too because. uh. its fun to look back! and i want to!

MARCH

american teenager (36s)

my first ever commission! for my best friend bia! to this day i hear do what you want (do more!) everytime i listen to this song.

APRIL

arms (1:02)

this was for seti. and it hurt.

good luck babe! (1:11)

literally never felt euphoria the same since the week of bi buck when i made this. changed the timeline. (although i was so euphoric and excited to post that i cropped in a rush and left a little white line in one of the shots and it pisses me off massively to this day. yes im a virgo thanks for asking)

to open up my arms and give it all to you (2.5k)

my little buck coming out to chris fic with hints of buddie <3 bi buck got me writing again after months of literal Nothing. god bless

one of your girls (3:09)

kirby's vision went OFF. so proud of this one like. its gotta be one of my favs and i feel like it became a bit of a butchdiaz classic which makes me so happy :D

MAY

kill her freak out (1:33)

this video is my little baby. ohhh samia. ouaagh eddie.

scared of my guitar (2:23)

shoutout to the way the dialogue syncs up in this one. rly satisfying to me hehehe. honestly didn't think i'd like this one as much as i do but she hits hard

promise (1:15)

love when people commission me to edit songs im already currently obsessing over yay!!!!!

JUNE

happy to be here (2:16)

julien baker. eddie diaz. aka abby had a mental breakdown making this one.

closed hands, full of friends (45s)

this was my first time editing a song i had Never heard beforehand! 3 cheers for finding new music!!

JULY

l'amour de ma vie (3:26)

ok not to toot my own horn but. this one is good. i feel like i really told a story u know. and about now is when i started to play around with fun/more intricate text ooh ooooh

a burning hill (1:01)

this prompt was designed in a lab to kill me specifically. i wanted to do the whole song originally but i like. could not go on.

my ego dies at the end (2:49)

i reallyyyy like this one. long edits my beloved! i love to build to something. i rewatch this one often tbh. jensen mcrae is everythinggg

AUGUST

north star (2:16)

again, had never heard this song b4 i got this prompt and it got me obsessed with this searows album. this edit makes me feel all soft. rly loved incorporating fleabag into it bc like. fleabag for life. shoutout summerofbuddie for the inspo

feels like (58s)

this song has been on my buddie playlist(s) forever so i was So excited to get this prompt. it was so fun to make something. not depressing and just like. fluffy. fun fact i hand drew all the hearts for this in ps and they were such a pain to work with but i really love how it turned out cause i'd never done anything like that before :')

pink balloon (2:29)

finally made a proper buck amv. after so many eddie ones it was actually nice to switch it up. felt re-inspired! also always so inspired by samia ugh. i am an eddiegirl literally to my bones tho so this was both v hard and v fun to make.

SEPTEMBER

"i want a divorce" / "it was a date" (2:19)

the buckshannon parallels ouuugughhh. this was one of those ones that haunted me so persistently i literally was forced to make it. saw hanna's post and then blacked out and i was posting this.

had a feeling i could be someone (3k)

+

leave tonight or live and die this way (1.1k)

dyke buddie!!!!!!!! these fics are sooooo near and dear to my heart. i love to make everyone wlw! i love to project my butchness onto my fav characters! wrote these so fast (for me) like writing has Never flown out of me like that. i was possessed by the spirit of lesbianism. and. GOD. the response to these fics also makes me want to cry daily. the beautiful art that was created?????? for me and my little fic?????????? i actually can't believe it i love you guys so much. lesbians forever and ever and ever.

did it to myself (1:11)

another one of my favs. i think it slaps so hard tbh. i tried a lot of new stuff and it was so FUN. orla's music is so much fun to edit to i need to do another one of her songs asap.

afraid of heights (2:46)

boygenius wrote this for my friend buck buckley. got entirely consumed by this one. thank u han for being my buckafraidofheights warrior for life <3

headlock (2:23)

i love buck but i remember coming back to making an eddie amv and breathing a sigh of relief. i just Get him. its so easy. this one's underrated i think oop it kinda slaps

OCTOBER

savior complex (3:16)

this one was a rly good challenge and idek why. super happy with how it turned out though i like watching it back

NOVEMBER

funeral bell (2:54)

the buck thesis statement. to me. and such a crazy unique process. loved working w kaitlin on this one and sending her 10 million drafts (she rly got a behind the scenes tour yall and it was not pretty). this was an absolute BEAST to make despite it not even being that complicated. i think i just cared so much about making it perfect for my dear friend who trusted me with her visions and inspiration and that made it all the more special!

you get your dreams for free (14.8k)

drunk cuddling!!!!!!!! my longest fic i've posted to date and i fully thought i was never gonna finish it. i abandoned this last YEAR but im SO glad i came back to it and most of the reason for that is because of the absolutely lovely responses to my earlier fics this year <3 literally hilarious to me that i originally wanted to post this on halloween 2023. abby. abby no.

surrender my heart! (1:30)

post-confessions euphoria + a carly rae jepsen prompt? i was literally in heaven. SURRENDER UR HEART EDDIEEEEEEEEE

DECEMBER

every place leads back to your place (2.1k)

music inspires me soooo much (looks up at this post. no way right.) so i absolutely loved writing based off a song! and a chappell song nonetheless!! so fun to twist a breakup song around to fit Them. i particularly love the kiss in this one <3

oldie's station (3:17)

phew we're almost there! this one is recent but lowkey it feels like another classic to me already. i really really like it. making it felt like cooking a three course meal and watching it kinda feels like eating one :D (thank god) (i spent so many hours in that kitchen)

letter to god (1974) (2:27)

+

letter to god (1983) (1:52)

putting these together bc they are sister songs and sister videos. first time in my life i've worked on two videos at once. it was fun because they kind of grew together and influenced each other very directly. not fun because i ran out of space and my laptop crashed. several times. these felt rly indulgent and raw. kind of shocking to me how perfect both songs feel for both of them. had a lot of fun messing with the voice/video filters to try and place these in their respective eras bc im obsessed with that aspect of the songs. halsey's artistry is crazy yall if u havent listened to her newest album GO. NOW.

the rush of slumber party kissing (3.2k)

posted this literally yesterday lol. also my first time writing smut. somehow. scary! but i did giggle all the way through writing this tbh. when buddie reveal their true nature as silly teenage girls >>>>>>>>>>

SPECIAL SHOUTOUT

fleabag au wip, who saw the light of day again this year. she could be finished in six months or six more years, but she Will be finished. im determined!

<3

ok if u read all that uh. wow congrats fhdhhdh im gonna get sappy for JUST A SEC now cause uh. im actually blown away by the support and love and appreciation this fandom has shown me this past year. you guys have given me so much confidence in my skills as both an editor and a writer and you also quite literally helped me pay my rent. by making videos about gay firefighters. its actually kind of mind blowing to me how lucky i am and i never want to take that for granted <3

to anyone who has commissioned me, or sent me a prompt, or left a comment on a fic, or a tag on a video, or sent me a kind ask, or subscribed to me, or followed me, or reblogged anything of mine this year: thank you.

im so grateful for this little community and all the friends and connections i have made through our collective insanity over a procedural drama on abc (neé fox). yall rock so hard.

<3

tagging @userbuddie @chronicowboy @confessionseddie @try-set-me-on-fire @userautumn @lovelettered @exhuastedpigeon @sibylsleaves @saryasy @team-118 @lemmeaskthedevil @eddiebabygirldiaz if u wanna do any sort of yearly roundup!

[bloodismymedium]

Mona x Tina Toxic Yuri Headcanons because I’m a bad person 🫀🌸🔪🧁

Ya’ll can blame @dollsleeper for giving me the toxic yuri bug. I am officially a Tona shipper thanks to them XD

TW: references to sexual assault, stockholm syndrome, stalking and abuse

☠️ Mona didn’t think much of Tina when she first laid eyes on her, she was just another piece of meat to be used in her art, what really made her fall in love with Tina was when she heard her scream. She heard so many screams before her and always took twisted pleasure in hearing the screams of her victims but Tina’s screams just hit different, it was like a beautiful song to her and she wanted to hear it forever. Ironically, Tina’s screaming was what saved her life because it made Mona do what she never did with any of her victims… she hesitated in killing her. Mona would have many lesbian thoughts about Tina since that fateful day, she often wondered how soft her hair must be and how much she yearned to smell the perfume on her body again.

☠️ Mona became completely obsessed with Tina after hearing that beautiful scream of her’s and would end up stalking her for the next two years, memorizing her schedule, occasionally stealing her belongings but she didn’t make a move on her until after watching her interview. Mona took Tina’s “once you’ve been to hell, you don’t come back” quote as a sign that Tina wanted to come back to her, like a piece of her was still with Mona since that day and she was beckoning Mona to take her back… It was the most romantic thing Mona has ever heard in her life.

☠️ Mona actually tries to make sure Tina is as comfortable as possible. She took her beautiful, bloodstained lace bedsheets with her to put over the dirty mattress she has Tina placed on, she actually cooks her food even if they don’t turn out right most of the time, she’ll cuddle up with her if she looks like she’s cold, she’ll check to see if the pretty pink collar she picked out for her isn’t too tight, she even bathes her semi-frequently.

☠️ Tina is constantly trying to fight off the warm, fuzzy feelings that Mona gives her. She doesn’t want to admit how much she melts when Mona touches her thigh, she hates how good she feels when Mona says things like “you inspire me so much” and “you’re so pretty when you cry”, she finds herself actually blushing when Mona compliments her. Every day is an inner war to stop herself from falling in love with the woman who killed everyone around her, dismembered her and now keeps her hostage in what looks and smells like a lived in sewer.

☠️ Tina hates herself for finding Mona so pretty, she’s a monster, one who killed her sister, her boyfriend and her mother, mutilated her, keeping her alive just to treat her like some kind of toy or pet… and yet she thinks her long, black hair is so pretty, her eyes so beautifully haunting, the expressions she makes when she paints those horrible portraits are strangely charming, that course yet oddly soothing voice that makes her feel a strange combo of fear and comfort. She just can’t keep Mona out of her head and she hates it.

☠️ Mona loves to doll up Tina, dressing her up in pretty outfits and doing her makeup, trying out different hairstyles, she would even do her nails if she still had hands. Tina hates this but she’s learned not to fight back, having come to fear making Mona angry and besides, every day, against her better judgement she likes Mona’s games of dress up a tiny bit more. Mona knows this too, remembering the time when Tina blushed after Mona said she had good fashion sense.

☠️ Mona and Tina surprisingly have a lot of common. They both have a major sweet tooth, they both have a love for nature even though Tina is a deer girl and flower enjoyer while Mona is a rat and bug lady who collects molds, spores and fungus, they both have artistic talent and an interest in the arts (Tina being a knitter and sewer) and they even have a shared quirk in a tendency to play around with their hair when bored or anxious.

☠️ Tina is bisexual but she’s kept her sexuality a secret from her mother since she’s a conservative christian type and she feared she wouldn’t accept her if she found out, Jack and Flora both knew however. It can be surmised that Mona is pan since she has a very “a hole is a hole” mentality when it comes to sex but she wouldn’t identify as pansexual since she doesn’t really care for labels.

☠️ Shockingly, Mona hasn’t gone too far in forcing herself upon Tina. She could easily subject her to her darkest, sexual fantasies like she has done to so many others and you better believe she’s had some real devious thoughts and yet the worst she’s done to her is groping/squeezing her breasts and thighs on a regular basis or licking her face. Tina of course is horrified and disgusted by these acts and yet… why does her face and nethers feel so warm when she does it? And why does she whimper and mew the way she does when Mona bites her neck and shoulders even when she draws blood? And why does she always kind of look forward to when Mona cuddles up to her even when she’s soaking in blood?…

☠️ Bill is VERY jealous of all the attention Tina gets from Mona and is always thinking about murdering and getting rid of her so that he can be Mona’s “favorite” again but has enough smarts left to know that he would be severely punished, maybe even killed if he did so he has no choice but to grit and bare it. His patience will always be tested when Mona talks about her while they’re out murdering like when Mona finds some kind of accessory or article of clothing and will ask Bill “do you think Tina would like this?”. Bill will scare the shit out of Tina when Mona isn’t around in a vain attempt at revenge against her.

[dumdogs]

⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖ AKAASHI KEIJI

undone ⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖

CHAPTER FOUR: truths

She asked Akaashi if she could borrow his car to drive to Alisa’s. She told him it was because she didn’t want to take the train alone that late at night, but it was really because she needed an excuse not to drink. But now that she’s there, she’s drunk.

Alisa holds a glass of red wine by the stem and throws an arm over her shoulder. It’s easy to fall into Alisa. She disarms you, comes at you in a way that you don’t really expect. She smiles, and it makes you want to make her smile more.

Her friends are standing in front of the television, holding makeshift microphones in the form of hairbrushes and wooden spoons. They’re improvising their own version of karaoke, singing loudly and poorly to some version to a song she’s never heard of.

Her shoes are kicked off, and her knees are brought up to her chest. She has her own glass of wine, and her teeth are stained red. “Can I be honest with you?” she asks, glass pressed to her lips. She pours the rest of the contents down her throat.

Alisa, slightly drunk, squeezes her tight. “I would love if you were honest with me, babe,” she says, slowly blinking her eyes.

“I didn’t think you would like me,” she says. It doesn’t seem like Alisa hates anyone, but she was sure she would be the exception. Maybe it was projection. Maybe she just hoped Alisa would hate her first, so she had an excuse to. “I don’t know why.”

Alisa looks astonished, gasping, eyes wide. Alisa pushes away from her so she can properly look her in the eye, each of her hands going on either side of her shoulders. “I couldn’t ever hate you. I’ve always wanted to be your friend. You’re just so cool! I’m stoked I finally had an excuse to talk to you.”

Despite herself, she smiles. “Are you sure you’re not just drunk?”

“Yes,” Alisa insists, along with a slight shake to her shoulders. “I am drunk, but I’m also telling the truth. I’m obsessed with you.”

She thinks that maybe Alisa could be lying. This could be a façade, a trick to get close to her, just so she could get closer to Akaashi. But, at this point, she wouldn’t care. Being around her feels so nice that she wants to believe her, and everything she says.

Her eyes almost water. It’s a special kind of affection that comes from her. Suddenly, she understands Akaashi a lot more. The wine in her makes her say, “I think you might be magic.”

Alisa pulls at her shoulder and leans her forward, just so she can place a wet, drunken kiss on the center of her forehead. When Alisa pulls away, she can feel a smudge of sticky lip gloss on her skin. “Now let me tell you something,” Alisa says, and then before she can even respond, Alisa’s continuing on. “I am so, so happy that you and Akaashi are together. Like, seriously.”

She forces herself to smile. “You are?”

“Oh my god, of course I am! Okay, listen,” Alisa says, straightening out her posture; her expression gets serious, “this is going to make me sound so egotistical, and I’m sorry, but I always thought Akaashi had a crush on me. And it made me feel so weird! Like, no offense to him or you or anything, but he’s kind of like a little brother to me, y’know? But now that I know that he has you, I just feel so much more comfortable around him now. And it’s like, such a relief to know that I was wrong.”

She can feel her expression slip off of her face. She tries to pick it back up before Alisa notices, but she’s not quick enough. Alisa’s eyes widen in panic, just for a moment. “I’m sorry! I hope that wasn’t weird to say! God, I knew it would make me sound like an egomaniac.”

“No,” she says, shaking her head. “No, don’t even worry about it. I just hope he wasn’t like, making you uncomfortable or being weird around you or anything.”

“Nothing like that! It was just kind of like, vibes, y’know? Like he never said anything weird to me, but it’s just like, this feeling that he felt a way about me that I didn’t feel about him. But, like I said, just me having a big head.”

She nods and is careful not to let her smile fall again. “Yeah,” she says. “I know what you mean.”

⋆⭒˚.⋆ 

She stands outside on the sidewalk, properly drunk and shivering underneath her jacket. Iwaizumi approaches her and looks disappointed. He stops a few feet away, hands in the pockets of his jacket. “Are you okay?” he asks.

“Thanks for coming,” is her reply, she tosses him Akaashi’s keys, and he catches them with ease. “Can you drive me home?”

In the car, it’s warm. She’s shed her jacket and is tilted slightly, watching Iwaizumi while he drives. Iwaizumi is all sharp edges. He looks harsh and concentrated. “Are you sure Akaashi isn’t gonna be mad that I’m driving his car?” Iwaizumi asks, not looking away from the road.

“He won’t care,” she answers. “Better you drive it than I do.”

“Why couldn’t you just call him?” Iwaizumi asks.

She flinches. “Are you mad that I called you?”

Iwaizumi sighs. “No, I’m not mad,” he answers.

The car drives over puddles of slushy, wet ice. Iwaizumi drives slowly, carefully. “I dunno,” she says. “I think I probably just called you because I knew you’d come.”

Iwaizumi looks like he’s trying to digest this. He locks up his jaw and pushes air out through his nose. He says he’s not mad, but his knuckles are tight around the steering wheel, and he won’t look at her. Not even a little. “Yeah, guess that’s fair,” he says eventually.

She reaches over, and places a hand on his thigh. She always likes Iwaizumi more when she’s drunk. “I’m sorry,” she says, not really sure exactly what it is she’s apologizing for, but she means it. She is sorry. She feels sorry for him.

“Don’t worry about it,” he tells her. She doesn’t say anything in return.

When they arrive outside of her apartment, she invites Iwaizumi upstairs. He declines and does not provide a reason. She likes to assume it’s because she had too much to drink, and not because she was annoying him. He places Akaashi’s keys in her hands, and walks back to his own apartment, hood over his head, not once looking back at her.

⋆⭒˚.⋆ 

In the morning, she’s woken up by a forceful light that pours in through her window. Akaashi ripped the blinds open. She groans, head immediately throbbing. She doesn’t open her eyes. “Fuck, Keiji.”

“Sorry,” he says, and he doesn’t sound very sorry at all. She sits up, using one hand to rub the sleep out of her eyes. “Quickest way to wake you.”

The other side of the bed dips as Akaashi sits on its edge, and her head is reeling, remembering the night before all at once. Alisa, and her palpable discomfort, her earnestness and embarrassment.

Another low groan escapes her. She’s too tired to think of her conversation with Alisa, and its implications. She forces her eyes open, and see Akaashi is sitting up on her bed, grinning down at her, excited like a kid. And this dead weight settles in her gut and she just feels so instantly sick.

He’s too excited. Too giddy. She’s never seen him like this before, and it makes the bad news on her tongue taste sour.

Akaashi doesn’t notice, or if he does he attributes it to tiredness. “I’ll make you a coffee if you tell me how it went last night.”  

Her tongue is dry. She needs water. “Last night?” she questions, like she has to recall. Like the details don’t immediately come to her. “Yeah, I talked to Alisa about you.”

He rolls his eyes. “Don’t bury the lead. What’d she say?”

Her mouth opens, and then it closes again. She doesn’t know what to say, how to break it to him. She can imagine his face dropping with the words. How he’d try to contain his disappointment, but she’d be able to tell. She would see every sign of it, in his drawn brown and in the hard-pressed line of his mouth. She’d see it in the way he held his shoulders and how his tone would change and drop off.

She dreads it.

She dreads how it would end, too. That makes her selfish, and she doesn’t have it in her to care too much. She’s too busy preemptively mourning the loss of Akaashi holding her hand, throwing an arm over her shoulder and talking about her online like he really, truly is in love with her. She wants to keep playing pretend. She wants to still feel like he cares about her like that, even if she knows it’s all for show.

She doesn’t want it to end.

And when her mouth opens, she fully intends for the truth to come out. To tell Akaashi exactly what Alisa said, to deliver the final blow, and bring the end of it all. But instead, what comes out is, “It’s hard to get a good read on her, really. But I think there’s probably some part of her that’s jealous. At least, that’s what it seems like to me.”

Fuck, she curses in her head. Fuck, fuck, fuck. She immediately wants to take it back.

But she looks up at Akaashi, just to see him grinning back at her. He’s saying something she’s not listening to. She’s just watching his mouth move, and she feels nauseated.

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