#if anyone manages to answer all these i'll be so impressed

[aiqingdemeimiao]

made a genuinely deranged quiz on my break for the @mi6-cafe festive fanwork fiesta thingy

click here and possibly* enjoy (?!?!)

*lots of emphasis on the "possibly"

[bluebellles]

"i'll take a quiet life"

gentle moments of reciprocating their affection

genre: fluff, hurt/comfort, sfw

cw: varying relationship stages, brief callbacks to child experimentation (canon compliant), zayne’s describes a poor relationship with food, heavy on dragon sylus sorry i wish i could be different, ur down bad and a little embarrassing in Xavier’s but he’s worse, author is still settling into character analysis for these guys so pls forgive any ooc

Your hunting partner excelled in many ways. His skill in the field was both undeniable and terrifying, his ability to fall asleep anywhere concerned you as much as it impressed you, and his calm demeanor even in the face of the most stressful situations set your mind at ease whenever you fought alongside him.

The only area he truly lacked in, in your humble opinion, was in his ability to give a straight answer about anything to do with himself or his personal life.

He was, in many ways, a vault of information for everything from the history of wanderers to arbitrary and niche subjects that a normal person would have had to spend a lifetime studying to be able to reference as easily as him. If you had a question about nearly any subject, your walking encyclopedia of a partner likely had the answer ready to deliver to you accompanied by a yawn and that sleepy blink of his eyes. 

Answers about himself, however, were much harder to come by. He never declined your inquiries outright, but he had a litany of creative and mildly infuriating ways to dodge the question. He was very adept at distracting you, often with food or confusing questions of his own. You once asked him what he did over the weekend and he pulled a bag of your favorite candy out of his pocket to offer to you, waited until you started munching on it happily, and then just said “and what about you?” as if he had already answered your question. You were also highly suspicious about the timing of his naps on the train to get to missions – always falling asleep right after you try making small talk about where he grew up or his family. 

It's not like you didn’t want to respect his boundaries. He was probably just a very private person or a secret criminal and either way it was ultimately none of your business. It’s just that it was a little difficult to jump into battle alongside another person on a daily basis and trust them to have your back when you couldn’t even get him to tell you about his hobbies. Nothing to do with the way your heart sped up a little seeing him at his desk in the mornings at all. Completely sensible and utilitarian curiosity.

So, rather than continuing to pester him for answers you decided you would simply observe him to get to know him better. Admittedly, as far as subjects for study he was an interesting one. And very nice to look at.

You learned quite a bit about the sleepy man through your observations, jotting down everything you learned in a small, unassuming notebook you kept on hand during work hours. 

For example, he spends an hour in the break room every day eating concerning amounts of convenience store ramen and reading random books about obscure subjects like 101 Facts About Wooly Mammoths and Dating Advice for Older Men. Always a different book, and he always manages to finish it by the time his self-imposed break is over. If anyone tries to make conversation with him during that time period, he will pretend to fall asleep. You’re honestly starting to believe he has narcolepsy or something. Or just very selective hearing.

Contrary to your initial assumptions, he also does have a sense of humor. All of his jokes are told with his usual flat affectation and could easily be mistaken for serious comments, but once you start to look so closely at him it’s easier to pick up on the subtle, teasing drawl at the end of his quips or the way his nose twitches a little with the effort not to smile when he’s messing with you. 

You were in the middle of conducting a very serious investigation about his various micro expressions one night when the two of you stopped by a crepe stand on your way home from work. 

You had already been to the crepe stand a few times a few times with Tara. It was a cute little business run by an older man and his son who had recently graduated from university. You had rambled to Xavier enthusiastically about how they were the only place that had your favorite combination of fillings and how you were craving something sweet, and he had only nodded and said “mh”, which you had learned to translate as enthusiastic agreement.

The owner’s son happened to be running the stand that day and was just as friendly and outgoing with you as always, winking at you when he asked if you wanted your usual. His easygoing smile had faded, however, with a quick glance behind you before he busied himself with making your crepe.

You turned around in confusion, only finding Xavier with the same mild, spaced out expression as always looking innocently off to the side. 

A few minutes later, you dutifully hand over a delicious looking savory crepe filled with meat to the silver-haired man before looking over your own, practically salivating over the combination of fruits and cream. He stared it with what you had recently identified as confusion before looking to you imploringly.

“Not sweet?”

“Oh!” you flustered a little, realizing how presumptuous you had been in ordering for him, “Sorry, I just thought- you prefer savory to sweet right? I mean, when Jenna brings pastries in you always take a croissant instead of a donut-,”

You cut yourself off before you could start listing all the different ways you had been a total creep recently.

“I can get you a sweet one if you prefer,” you whispered out, trying your best to look completely unaffected.

A soft huff left Xavier’s lips, and you looked up to see that gentle half-smile he sometimes gave you and a very soft look in his eyes.

“It’s fine,” he assured you, “I do prefer savory things.”

The second half of his sentence, oddly enough, was accompanied by a very smug glance at the owner’s son who looked rightfully confused and possibly a little nervous.

Armed with your contrasting crepes, the two of you chose to stroll and eat, enjoying the gentle spring breeze that blanketed the evening as you walked. Absentmindedly, you mentioned the owner’s son again in passing, praising him for his skill in creating the perfect ratio of fillings. Xavier suddenly made a face you hadn’t seen on him before.

A tiny twitch of his nose, similar to when he was trying not to laugh, but followed by a miniscule pout before he took a rather aggressive bite of his crepe as if it had done something to offend him personally.

Your fingers twitched with the urge to whip out your little notebook to record this breaking update in your investigation but refrained for the meantime, tilting your head to the side and studying him closely.

“Is something wrong with your crepe…?” 

He froze, glancing down at his food contemplatively.

“…Yes.”

“Yes?”

“I’m done,” he declared bluntly, turning to glare at your almost finished crepe with equal hostility, “Are you done?”

“I mean- I guess?” You blinked at him.

“Mh.”

Wordlessly, he took your crepe from you and ambled off to find a nearby trashcan. You took the opportunity to whip out your notebook to catalogue all the new data you had collected. 

The nose twitch was multipurpose – sometimes indicating amusement and sometimes indicating… irritation? And the tiny pout. Did he have a stomachache? More information was needed.

You were so wrapped up your excited theorizing that you failed to notice the presence of someone coming up right behind you, peering over your shoulder to read the words you were jotting down.

“I don’t have a stomachache,” a deep voice rumbled directly in your ear, causing you to shriek and fling the notebook further down the sidewalk. It scraped against the concrete before flopping pathetically next to a storm drain. 

You whipped around in abject horror only to find Xavier’s face two inches from yours, looking at you with an unreadable expression. 

“That was not at all what it looked like,” you lied blatantly, eyes darting between him and the notebook.

“What did it look like?” he asked mildly, his face betraying nothing of his current mood. He was still close enough to you that you could count all of his individual lashes and make out a few tiny scars along his jaw.  

“I’m not stalking you.”

“Okay.”

“I’m not.”

“Mh.”

Xavier didn’t press the subject, instead going over to retrieve the notebook. Mortification rolled over your entire being as he began rifling through the pages. You wished a car was driving by so you could throw yourself in front of it.

“It’s seriously not as creepy as it seems,” you sound delusional even to yourself, “I just wanted to get to know you better.”

While you were panicking and wondering how soon you could transfer departments, Xavier was staring down at the pages filled with your cute handwriting in contemplation.

It would seem that he had underestimated you once again. 

Finding you in this lifetime, as a dying star well past its expiration date, he hadn’t been expecting much in the way of your relationship with him. It was simply an impulse he could not ignore – the honor of being close to you. He sought out your brilliance and would always endeavor to orbit around you but it was hardly even a thought in his brain that you would be drawn to him in the same way. Not when he was so tired. Not when he could only offer you a beautiful afterimage of what he had once been.

He should not have doubted you. In every life, you were always the only one to really see him. The only one to even bother looking beyond his blinding light. After so many years of existence and so many different identities, he only ever really saw himself through the reflection of your gaze. He was a fool to have assumed your soul would falter even if he was scattered across the galaxy instead of whole as he once was. 

“Forgive me,” his voice was hoarser than his usually airy cadence, his gaze more focused than you were used to when he looked over at you.

Confusing as it may have been, you didn’t need your notebook to identify his current expression. When Xavier finally looked back at you, the way you had been looking at him all these weeks, it was impossible to mistake the devotion in his eyes.

Rafayel turned the conch shell over in his hands, letting out a thoughtful hum as he let his fingers dance across the spikes. The outside was a gradient of pretty blues that melted into a soft pink closer to the center. A small sticker with a price that had been hastily covered up with marker stuck to the side. The artist’s eye twitched minutely at the sight of it clashing against the otherwise pleasant color palette, already using a sharp nail to carefully peel it off.

“Isn’t it pretty?” you gushed a little, a self-satisfied grin tugging at your lips as you pointed at the shell as though couldn’t see it, “If you put your ear against it, you can hear the ocean!”

He let out a petulant scoff at this, eyes narrowing at the conch shell like it was guilty of scamming you and he was about to put it on trial.

“It’s lying to you, cutie,” he scowled a bit, as though the conch had advertised this gimmick itself, before pointing dramatically at the waves crashing right outside the glass of his windows, “and did you lose your vision or something? The ocean’s right outside if you want to listen to it so bad. …Maybe if you visited me more often you’d-,”

“No, shut up, I know,” you rolled your eyes and nudged him a little before brightening again, “but still – it really sounds like waves! Besides, I thought you could take it with you when you go on your trip for that client meeting. I looked it up. There aren’t any beaches nearby, the whole city is landlocked. I figured you might get homesick or something. Now you don’t have to!”

Rafayel stared at you. Things had been strange the whole morning, starting from when you showed up at his doorstep lacking any of your usual complaints about his antics and without any coercing on his part. 

You had come to visit him of your own accord? You had looked up the geography of his business trip because you were worried about him getting homesick? He mentally scanned through all the elaborate schemes to get your attention he had acted out recently, wondering which one of them had prompted such a reaction from you. He had been so busy with a new series for a very annoying client the past few weeks and he couldn’t think of anything he had done recently that would have warranted this. So why?

“Besides, it kinda looks like your eyes, right?” You said off-handedly, only half paying attention as you adjusted a setting on your watch, casual as if you hadn’t just said something that made his already rapid heartrate speed into overdrive and the tips of his ears flush a pretty red.

Just when he thought he was starting to get a handle on this version of you, that he had figured out the proper tune to draw you closer, you decided to change the rules of the game again. He supposed he should have been used to it by now. Every version of you always managed to shatter his expectations as easily as you breathed. As unpredictable as the ocean, and just as beautiful to him. But honestly, what was a fish to do? How was he supposed to ever prepare for you?

“Are you trying to win employee of the month or something?” he scrambled a little, whipping his head to the side and trying to keep the squeakiness out of his voice, “I won’t be giving you a bonus for it. Just so you know.”

You scowled at this, glancing away from your watch and trying to swipe the conch shell out of his hands.

“Whatever. If you don’t want it just say that,” you huffed as he held it out of your reach, still without looking at you.

“Be quiet,” he sniffed haughtily, holding the shell up to his ear and pushing you away gently by your forehead with his other hand, “I’m listening to the ocean.”

“I thought you said-”

Insufferably, he hushed you and closed his eyes under the guise of concentrating so you wouldn’t see the softness of his expression. All he could hear was random ambient sound, not even close to the vibrant complexities of the sea that encompassed his birthplace. Even still, as he pictured you carefully rummaging through different shells at the pier market and comparing their hues to his eyes, he had never felt closer to home. 

As much as he'd like to pretend he was the siren ensnaring you into his trap, he was well aware that that honor belonged to you. Regardless of the time or the place or the bodies you both inhabited, your song was a tune that could never be erased from the core of his being and one he would always walk towards willingly. How annoying.

For a man who lived his life with complete precision, who planned out every day with strict control and little room for superfluities, it was nearly impossible not to notice even the slightest changes in routine.

As such, every tiny alteration you made to his otherwise balanced life was meticulously documented and filed away. Not with annoyance or disapproval, as some might expect, but instead with the intention to figure out how to best accommodate for your whims without disrupting his own routines or, infinitely more abhorrent to consider, burdening your own carefree sensibility with his neuroses.

Pausing in the doorway to straighten out the shoes you had haphazardly kicked off on your way in. Making sure you had a glass of water next to your daily iced coffee so that you wouldn’t get dehydrated. Carefully holding onto your hand and keeping you steady as you insisted on walking across the side of a bridge rather than the sidewalk next to him. Despite the stoic expression and steadfast seriousness he exhibited while preforming these simple tasks for you, he did not consider them to be a burden. It was a privilege to bear witness the vivacity you brought into his world.

He was content, in this way, to watch you bulldoze through life with reckless abandon and dutifully reorganize the chaos you left in your wake. It was enough to feel the brilliance of your warm light soak into his cold skin. He would remain steady and controlled for the both of you.

You were, however, a little less content with this arrangement. Zayne was steady. Constant. A stone pillar for you to rest against when you couldn’t handle standing up on your own. You loved this about him, but he wasn’t infallible. Wasn’t impervious to desire and indulgence. You loved this about him too. You just wished he could learn to love it about himself.

You knew your boyfriend loved sweet things. It was something you often teased him about, mostly joking in every respect besides the potential cavities. To be honest, you found it endearing and loved to see evidence of the gentle, sweet man hidden beneath his frosty exterior. 

The only thing that really concerned you about the doctor’s habit was that despite his propensity for baked goods and sugary candy, he didn’t actually seem to enjoy the process of eating them very much at all.

It was often during times of stress that he’d make a detour by the local bakery after a long shift. He would eat pastries as quickly as possible, a stark contrast from his usual habits that left little time for savoring the flavor. It almost seemed like an uncontrollable urge, a shameful impulse that he wanted to push through as quickly as possible. As utilitarian as one could be while digging into a strawberry shortcake. 

Zayne was a tempered man, driven by the ideology that if he lost even an ounce of control, he wouldn’t be able to stop the spiral. He wasn’t someone who could integrate indulgence into his routine halfheartedly. There was no true enjoyment to be found from acquiescing to his desire, only a temporary slip that would be accompanied by unfulfilled resolutions to abstain in the future.

You disagreed.

The two of you had a nice, cozy dinner together every Friday after work. Usually consisting of takeout, often delayed due to both of your hectic schedules, and sometimes taking place on the uncomfortable wooden benches outside the hospital but you always made it happen without fail. 

One night after a good meal with lighthearted conversation about your respective days, you retreated to Zayne’s fridge and returned with a miniature cake and an excited smile.

Zayne stared. It was a pretty cake, artfully piped cream and strawberries between layers of sponge cake with a delicate dusting of powdered sugar on top. His brow twitched minutely, mentally scanning through significant dates or anomalous recent events that could have prompted such an extravagance as you carefully removed it from the plastic bakery box. 

“…What’s the occasion?” he finally asked with great reluctance, disappointed by his own inability to decipher what he was missing.

“Hm?” you blinked, setting out two dessert forks and keeping your countenance deliberately casual, “No occasion, it just looked good.”

He stared at the cake as if it held all the world’s secrets.

“Did something happen today?” he pressed on, carefully assessing your mental state as if expecting you to suddenly have a mental breakdown.

“I had a craving for cake, that’s what happened,” you shrugged, not waiting for him before digging your fork into the side of dessert.

He watched as you savored your bite of cake with simple contentedness, no hint of stress or shame about the enjoyment you took from a useless indulgence. Not giving in to any kind of uncontrollable urge or distracting from any kind of emotional need. Pleasure for pleasure’s sake.

“You aren’t going to make me eat this whole thing by myself, are you?” you pouted playfully at him, making the puppy dog expression that always got you an exasperated huff followed by the immediate entertainment of whatever you asked for, “It doesn’t taste as good if we aren’t both enjoying it.”

Zayne, as always, weighed out his options out. If it was for you, maybe it was okay. As always.

He picked up the fork and took a slow bite.

After that night you had decided this was now an inherent part of your weekly routine, showing up with brightly colored macarons, beautifully decorated tarts, and decadent chocolate creations depending on what caught your eye at the bakery. You started calling it your ‘mandatory sweet treat’ and continued the tradition without fail. Always eaten in tandem with a balanced meal and shared slowly over happy conversation. A celebration of your bond rather than a shameful impulse. 

Zayne continued to tell himself that he was just playing along with your whims as usual. After all, how could it be wrong when you smiled so sweetly at him as you handed him his fork? 

It wasn’t until one week, when you stumbled into his house flustered after an unusually difficult mission and no time to stop by the bakery before closing that he finally had to admit his own enjoyment for the activity.

There was a brief silence after dinner was finished that week. He stared at the cleared table as if expecting something delicious to appear out of thin air. When it didn’t, he cleared his throat and clasped his fingers together on the table with his usual sense of decorum. 

“…No sweet treat today?” he asked ruefully.

You couldn’t contain your grin, whipping out your phone immediately to scroll through bakeries and ice cream parlors that stayed open late for sugar fiends like your adorable boyfriend.

Something had shifted recently. A tiny change in your dynamic that pricked ever so slightly at the center of his chest. Like everything else with you in this new lifetime, he tried his best not to sink his teeth into it and drag it forcefully out into the open. Used all his self-control to let you tend to it on your own terms and pretended not to notice. 

In hindsight, maybe the first change had been after he showered in your apartment for the first time. He had taken a polite amount of your body wash, trying his best not to infringe on your hospitality like a normal, human house guest, but as the scent of it (the scent of you) rolled over him his pupils had dilated. Fingers clenching against the bottle with the minute tingle of claws that no longer existed trying to come to the surface.

Smelling like you, knowing if anyone else walked by they would associate him with you and you with him, fed that deeply hidden instinct he tried so hard not to bother you with. You had scarcely gotten over your disgustand he was going to do his very best to keep it that way, annoying and primal dragon brain be damned. 

But still, just this once. Just this little thing would be okay, right?

Before he knew it he was drenching himself in the scent. Indulgent and greedy and marked by you. 

When he confessed nonchalantly to having used your entire bottle of body wash, playing it off as a taunt and hoping you didn’t notice the faint flush of his cheeks, he expected your usual annoyance or scathing remark. Some sort of sly dig that he could latch onto and use to keep your attention on him. It was the game this version of you liked to play, and like every version of himself he was happy to indulge. 

Instead, you had just hummed thoughtfully. Eyes a little distant as though ruminating over something in your head. The switch up made him tense just a little. Wonder if you could see through to the most feral part of him and if you would scorn him for it.

“You’ll have to give me a bottle of yours, then,” you said instead, eye contact oddly intentional for the moment, “to make it even.”

He almost jolted in place, clenching his fists at his sides for just a moment before relaxing.

She doesn’t know what it means. How could she? Swallow it down. Keep pretending that you can be human.

“Your negotiation skills have improved, kitten,” he speaks mildly, instead of pinning you to the couch the way he wanted to, “I suppose fair is fair.”

The second shift came in the form of a necklace, elaborately encrusted with bloodred rubies and sparkling diamonds. It rested in its glass case at an underground auction, the gleam of it against black velvet activating that familiar desire to possess and hoard away treasures so that nobody else could have them. He pictured it laying delicately across your neck and had to stop the rumble that threatened to emit from his chest. 

He sprung it on you right before an undercover mission to gain intel about a powerful protocore, one of many he had sought out and curated to spend a little more time with you. Tried to feed you some line about how you needed to fit in with the wealthy crowd you were attempting to infiltrate that night.

He expected you to remark about the exorbitant tastes of the uber rich or fluster about the idea of accidentally damaging such an expensive item and try to force it back into his hands. Both reactions were equally endearing to him, as was everything about you.

Instead, you only looked at him with that same thoughtful expression, allowing him to gently drape it over you and fasten it while narrowly avoiding the urge to take a deep inhale of the back of your neck. 

You examined yourself in the mirror, fiddling with the stones delicately, but your gaze was on his reflection behind you when you spoke.

“It’s pretty,” you spoke simply, your tone of voice one he hadn’t heard from you before. Something more gentle, not quite complacent but almost approving.

As if you were praising his tastes. Praising his hoard. Accepting his courting gift.

It was more difficult than ever to swallow that rumble back down again. The reaction was new, but you couldn’t possibly have understood the delusions you were feeding. Stay human. Keep letting her come to you. You already used up all your luck the first time around, you have to be more careful now.

His eyes scarcely left your neck for the rest of the night.

It wasn’t until days later that the final thread of his self-control snapped. The intel mission had taken longer than expected, and you were staying in his house to avoid the tedious commute from Linkon. A practical solution, he insisted to both you and himself, nothing to do with the primal desire to keep you firmly in his territory. 

He could scarcely pinpoint how it had happened, but sometime during your quiet evening routine of reading next to each other on the giant, plush couch in his living room you had ended up curled between the couch’s arm and him. You weren’t pinned down by any means, but you were entirely engulfed by his larger frame. If someone were to walk by they would not even be able to see you beyond him.

Completely covered on all sides. Protected from threats. Guarded by him. Nothing could touch you tucked so deeply into his territory, surrounded by him and his hoard and completely at ease.

Despite his most sincere efforts, he couldn’t stop the rumble from finally emitting from his chest. Couldn’t stop the deep purr that vibrated throughout him and rolled over you. 

He froze. Cut himself off from making any noise and, for a moment, even breathing. It was with great hesitation that he forced himself to meet your gaze. Fearful of the disgust and reproach that clouded your first meeting in this lifetime making a reappearance as you finally recognized the part of himself, he tried to keep buried for you.

Instead, that curious expression scanned over his face. Your head tilted to the side just a bit. Tentatively, you reached for his hair from where he was resting against your side and began running delicate fingers through it. His breath hitched. You glanced away from him, returning to your book but keeping up your gentle ministrations.

His purring started up again. A tiny smile twitched at the corners of your lips.

Caleb dutifully held the umbrella above your head as though he was getting paid for it, but you caught his gaze drifting to the puddles collecting near the sidewalk multiple times. Your mind drifted to rainy summer days when you were kids, sloshing around in puddles and competing to see who could slosh the most water at the other before Gran would poke her head out the front door to scold you both inside. Something twisted in your chest. Without thinking much further about it, you ducked out beneath the umbrella and took a flying leap into the nearest puddle, delighting in the small splash kicked up by your boots. 

“You trying to catch a cold, Pips?” Caleb’s tone was shrouded in playfulness, the way it always was around you, but underneath it was a brief waver, a sharpening of his gaze that revealed the true panic he felt at even the possibility of harm befalling you under his watch.

 The hypervigilance that couldn’t differentiate between a mild sickness and the sight of your battered, tiny body strapped to a white table. 

“So what if I do?” you challenged him then, hopping to an adjacent puddle and trying to keep the intention out of your voice. He flinched, as if you had just said something absurd. Opened his mouth to speak and then closed it again before trying to adjust to something more casual. Teasing and relaxed instead of the phrenetic and overbearing mess he tried so hard to hide from you.

“If you get sick you’ll have to skip the congressman’s dinner, and I’ll have to go alone. You wouldn’t do that to me, would you?” 

Right. An annual, stuffy dinner party where a bunch of government officials got together to talk about boring politics and pretend it was necessary to use four different forks for one meal. Half of them actively held grudges against Caleb for his unprecedented skyrocket to authority within the fleet and the other half thought he could be manipulated into granting them favors because of his youth. None of them deserved his time, you thought petulantly, not in the way you did. 

“So come get a cold with me,” you rebutted, tilting your head to the side playfully, “Then we can just stay home and play video games all day instead.” 

Caleb paused at this. You could practically see the cogs whirring in his brain as he tried to reconcile his pathological need for your safety with the temptation of staying inside with you all day, just the two of you, maybe curled up together on the couch as you ate snacks he would carefully prepare for you as he nurses you back to health, maybe sick with the same germs. His head tilted to the side like a puppy who had just heard the words walk, treat, and good boy in succession. 

 “…I bet we could even knock out a whole Lego set before we get better,” you sweetened the deal. 

Caleb practically flung the umbrella onto the sidewalk at this, giving no warning before launching himself into the puddle next to you and causing a significantly larger splash. You shrieked in both offense and thrill and splashed him back, reveling in the delighted laugh the usually curated man let out. The grin on his face was a little more crooked and uncontrolled than his usual teasing smile, the shrewd look in his eyes when he looked anywhere besides you just the tiniest bit lighter. It wasn’t a lot, but you were grateful for any amount of levity you could offer to him. Listening to the sound of his unrestrained laughter, something in you settled just a bit. 

For all his intelligence and capability, Caleb’s perception of himself was skewed by his self-imposed reluctance to ever look in the mirror. Caleb believed he was a feral wolf, with teeth too sharp to be filed down and starved by his trauma in a way that meant he’d never feel full again. So instead, he tried his best to show you a puppy. Docile and obedient without any appetite for vengeance or destruction. Someone who could curl up at your feet without you getting scared he’d sink his teeth into you the way he wanted to. You were the only one that knew he was neither.

Caleb was not the perfect, golden boy he spent so much of his life curating for you. He also wasn’t the cold, unfeeling weapon of destruction he desperately tried to hide away from your sight. He was something in between, childlike in his rage and his joy in equal measure. Calculating, certainly, and more than a little manipulative, but the end goal had always been to protect the both of you from a world that had never been as kind as he deserved. Caleb was not a monster, as he thought, or a perfect shield, as he so desperately wanted you to think. He was just a man, and once just a very scared boy. Just yours. And you would spend the rest of your life trying to prove that to him.

[ozzgin]

The wonderful wizard Ozz. I have had this concept stuck in my head like a worm!

Could you imagine a Darling escaping from their Yan, not to run but just to feel the rain on their skin? I've been consuming this prompt like a heroin addict and I can't seem to get enough!

Yandere! Male x Willing! Reader

If I were to expand your prompt, I quite like the idea of a Yandere that can't really go full yandere because Reader is just too willing. He loves yandere content and can very much relate, but none of the escalations can happen if, well, the object of his obsessive affection doesn't protest in the first place. Is it too far fetched from what you'd imagined? Let me elaborate content: gender neutral reader, parody, When you want to be a Yandere, but your Darling unfortunately cooperates

The Yandere has been stalking Darling for months. Journal entries, walls plastered with photos (and the occasional creepshots), recordings. He just can't get enough of his Darling. He loves everything about you and can barely function throughout the day, fantasizing about your life together.

Enough is enough and he finally decides to make you his. He's been consuming media of similar tropes, with obsessed men pleading for a chance and having to force their way in because of rejection and fear. He's prepared for everything. Your tears, your trembling voice, your hands pushing him away. He finds you, approaches you and confesses his feelings, knuckles white as he grips his fists in anticipation. Your eyes widen for a moment, before narrowing in a smile. "I had no idea! Sure, I'll go out with you." Huh? Wait. This wasn't...this wasn't in the plan. Somehow he'd been certain you'd refuse. He must've mumbled the last part out loud, because you respond with "Why would I say no?"

A very good point indeed. You will change your mind, however, once you learn the extent of his love. You're holding his hand and following along as he takes you to his place, completely and utterly unaware of what you're about to witness. He can't truly be your boyfriend if he has to hide his very nature, after all. You might be disgusted, frightened, offended. He can already hear your screams, demanding explanations. It's all out of love. "It's okay if you don't understand", he mumbles to himself, watching your frozen body as you gaze into his room. You take a couple of steps towards the nearest wall, tracing the hundreds of images with your fingers. "Wow. You never mentioned being into photography", you remark, impressed. "It's like an exhibition! But...you might have to work on your angles", you blurt out, a little embarrassed, pointing to one of the creepshots. "This isn't very flattering. Did you take it in a hurry? It makes my legs look disproportionate." He can only stare, taken aback. "S-sorry" is all he manages.

Okay, but don't imagine your life will continue as usual. You've only seen a glimpse of his adoration. Now that you're officially dating, he cannot allow anyone else to have access to you. You have to understand, he cannot protect you properly if you're not under his watch all the time. As much as he cherishes you, he will have to be rough if needed. That's what he tells himself as he shoves the required tools in the trunk of his car, speeding towards your apartment. Once there, he fidgets on the sofa, considering his speech. You seem to be just as uneasy - perhaps you're predicting what's to come? - casting your eyes down and giving short answers. "I think you should move in with me." He states solemnly. You gasp and throw a hand over your mouth, and tears quickly well in the corner of your eyes. "How did you...how did you know?" You say between sobs. Huh? "I didn't want to burden you with my problems, seeing as we just started dating...but my landlord won't renew the lease. I was so scared I'd be homeless."

He clicks his tongue. This isn't very yandere, more like the average couple experience. You bring the final moving box to his car, fitting it in the trunk. "By the way, what's with all the rope?" you ask. "Just move it aside", he sighs. How can he explain it? He's been training, sweating and bleeding for a marathon and right before the whistle, they handed him the first prize. His muscles are aching for the sprint that never happened. Of course he's grateful to have you at last, but somehow he feels like he hasn't proven his dedication properly. You just don't get it, do you? How sickening his love is for you.

As the days pass, he eases into his role of...how does one even call it? Pseudo-captor? When you found his journal, you blushed and confessed how no one before him put this amount of effort into knowing you. All the male contacts from your phone vanishing? It was about time you cleaned up your acquaintances and it was nice of him to help. The AirTags he's hidden in your bags and pockets? You appreciate his safety concerns. Nowadays, with all these perverts freely walking the streets, you can never be too sure.

One morning he wakes up to an empty bed. He jolts up, dazed. Could it be his wish was finally granted? You must've gotten tired of him and tried to escape. Oh, silly little Darling love. You should've known there's no more walking out once you said yes. He checks his phone and pounces out, ready for the hunt. As he sprints along the street, he finds you suspiciously close to his home. Not very smart of you to...what are you even doing? Your hands are raised up, fingers fanned out under the pouring rain. You notice his presence and turn to face him with a wide, childish grin. "I haven't done this since I was a child. When was the last time you felt the rain on your skin?" Only now it occurs to him he's been running in this downpour and his clothes are soaked. He was too focused on finding you.

"I thought you escaped", he almost whispers. "Escape? From what?" You tilt your head in confusion. He places his cold, large hands over your cheeks. "Do you comprehend I'm very much obsessed with you? I'm not joking around. You're never, ever leaving me. You're stuck here forever. I mean it. I really do. I'd rather kill you with my own hands than let you go. Because I love you." You take a moment to admire the intricate patterns of his irises, pupils dilated in a spiraling madness. By the end of his erratic oration, he's panting and digging his nails into your skin.

"I know."

[aninipanin1]

Some ideas for Manager are them accidentally getting hit with an off course ball, learning how to play football so they can help out a bit or perhaps, for old manager (but ig young manager could work too), them having used to play football before and having the world five/the coaches help them brush up on their rusty skills so they can help the boys with overtime practice, perhaps?

Sorry, I can't say I have any more ideas beyond this

KICKED TO THE HEAD

Notes: This req is lowkey so cute! I chose young manager instead if youre fine with it hehehe, but I will try to make another one to answer the other two req because I lowkey like them.

"Hmm, next on my to-do list is to check up on each stratum. Hmm, since the closest to where I am is the German Stratum, I'll head there first!"

You found yourself skipping away to where the training field was, where you know the players were currently training. It was a not-so regular day in the Blue Lock Facility due to the fact that the continuation of the Neo-Egoist League matches will be held in 3 days time.

Hence, all players, masters and even staff were busy, slaving away in their training or jobs. You decided to just give a small peek to each stratum, wanting to ask anyone if all are alright and well-taken cared off.

As the manager, you always found yourself feeling unsatisfied if even one of the players are not very comfortable with whatever it is that is under the guise of your job. Their cleats are a bit too uncomfortable? Your bad, you didn't pick the right cleats for them! Was the bedsheets a bit itchy? Oops, you did not di your job well to make it clean and spotless.

Sure, it was a lot of pressure, but you liked it. It made you feel useful, made you feel motivated, made you smile. Were you a masochist? Maybe, but if its for the betterment of the players, you were ready to do it. After all, the Blue Lockers, Ego and Anri were not the only ones dreaming for Japan to win the World Cup.

Putting your hair in a comfortable hairstyle, you entered the training field where you can see the Bastard Munchen players were running around the field, doing simulations and other strategical work that you could not help but be impressed with.

'Wow...the places where the players are are so fitting for their playstyles! That's Bastard Munchen for you! Very logical!'

A smile was on your face as your eyes followed where the ball was passed from player to player. Watching matches, practice or not, is always entertaining for you. The cogs in your mind spinning and turning, trying to connect and make sense with all the details and information your eyes can take in.

It always feels entertaining and freeing to do this. To spectate, to watch each player. Like you were the audience of an orchestra or a mastermind behind the pieces of a chessboard. Everything and everyone felt like they were within arm's reach, like you were a puppeteer choosing not to move the strings and instead, let your dolls move themselves.

But, you know that if you so much as wish to affect the game, you can.

"Do you see anything, Y/n?"

Almost jumping due to the shock, you turned to face the French master, Noel Noa, who looked at you curiously. You have been quite close with the master strikers in the facility, especially Noel Noa, who seemed to be quite fond of you, too, finding your nature and aura quite adorable. Maybe it was because you were quite young and still naive, or maybe it was because you were always so happy and excited to learn more about the sport, he did not know.

But, what he does know is you were a very precious kid he would like to take under his wing.

"Um, its just the usual I see, Noa-san. Nothing too big! Maybe its because its just practice..?"

You tilted your head, looking down on your notebook that had many doodles and notes you made throughout the week. There were doodles of the players and what they need to improve on. And well, you were more than happy to add more to the things you already totted down.

However, due to this, you did not really see the missed shot Kaiser did, while he trained his infamous Kaiser Impact again and again. Nor did you hear the shouts of some of the players about the incoming ball, or hell, even the shwip sound of the ball as it rushed through the air and went to where your head was.

So, to your surprise, when you find yourself blacking out for a second due to a hard force impacting on your forehead, that it made you sit on the floor. It hurt, yes, and you can feel the blood dripping from your nose, but the most dominant reaction you can feel is shock.

Meanwhile, the rest of the players, were not as calm as you were.

"Oi, Kaiser, you bastard! I'm gonna punt you!" Isagi shouted from the other side of the field as he stood up, ready to fight the German striker.

"Y/n-chan!! Are you okay?!" Hiori and Ness were the first ones to run to where you are, worried about your dazed expression.

"Kaiser. Laps around the field." Noa's eyes were slanted like a hawk, as he kneeled beside you, patting your head softly to comfort you a bit.

Kaiser, on the other hand, was the most petrified of all. He knows how much force his kick had, from experience and, of course, his own knowledge of his strength. And he was very much worried and shocked, blinking his blue eyes like he saw something very traumatising.

He didn't mean to. He knows he did nof. But that did not make him feel less bad. Especially since he hurt you of all people. The only person who was not rude to him, but also did not patronise him like a certain someone (ahem, Ness), even if he acted like a douche to you in the beginning of the Neo-Egoist League.

And also the fact that you weren't like him and the other players, who were used to receiving any loose ball that had hard and forceful impacts. But even then, he couldn't move fast enough to be the first one to make sure you were okay.

"Y/n-chan, where are you right now? What team and stratum are you in?" Yukimiya also was beside you, asking questions to make sure you didn't have a concussion or any brain damage. Thankfully, you answered all his questions quite well, and you didn't seem to be hurt at all. Just shocked and a bit sore from the impact, but nothing major.

"I'm fine, everyone. I wasn't just paying attention. Sorry, everyone. Sorry, Kaiser-"

"Why the fuck are you the one apologising? You were the one hurt!" Kaiser said out of nowhere, holding your shoulder as you blinked at the mini outburst he had. The blonde-haired man was panting, although not too heavily, it was still noticeable that he was heaving due to the rise and fall of his chest and shoulders.

At first, you thought it was because of the practice, but the worried look beneath the usual nonchalance in his eyes told you otherwise.

"U-uh...sorry- um no wait- I meant, its just because you got blamed for all of it when it was an accident and now you're in trouble."

"I don't give a crap about that. Just...just go to the damn clinic...make sure...you're not having a concussion or whatever."

Like a drunkard being poured cold water, Kaiser realized that you two were not the only people in the field, and that many eyes were watching. So, he retracted his arms and turned around, trying his best to hide the confusing mixture of worry and self-disappointment as he walked back to the field.

"Are you sure you're okay, Y/n-chan?" Isagi asked as he sat beside you, Kurona sitting on your other side ontop of the clinic bed as some of the Bastard Munchen players stood infront of you, also wanting to make sure you were okay.

"Yeah, I'm fine. This is nothing."

"If you say so, but if you feel dizzy or just if anything is wrong, tell us immediately." Yukimiya said he held the ice pack to where the ball hit, while you wiped the excess blood from your nose.

"Yeah, yeah! Its bad to hold back what you're feeling." Kurona added, while Hiori was just quiet as he gave you your stuff, placing it on the desk beside the bed.

Meanwhile, Kaiser and Ness also stood beside you, Ness, along the worried ones as he patted your head softly, hopeful that it might help in some way, shape or form. Meanwhile, Kaiser and Isagi were already starting to argue, Isagi telling Kaiser to becareful next time and Kaiser being on the defensive as the two threw roast upon roast against each other.

"Your blindass is so rich, you can't even buy sports glasses? Even Yukimiya is responsible enough to do that!"

"Oh, please. I'm blind? You're fucking senseless."

The rest of players, well except for Ness who was fully supporting and backing up Kaiser, just watched with done and dotted eyes.

"Jesus, they never shut up, huh?" Hiori rolled his eyes.

"Yeah. Theyre too, too intense sometimes." Kurona added as finally, Yukimiya sighed and gave his polite smile.

"I think thats enough for today, you two. Y/n-chan needs her peace and quiet to recover."

ADDITIONAL TIME!

BARCHA

"Bachira!! We can't!!" Kitsunezato said as he tried to stop the said striker from walking out.

"Yeah, you know that Lavinho-san won't like it." Hayate added, but Bachira was far from listening.

"NO! I need to see if Y/n-chan's okay!! I'll beat that German up the next time I see him!!"

"Please, don't- C'mon Otoya! Help us out here!" But, unfortunately for them, Otoya was somewhat agreeing to what the brown and blonde haired striker was saying and Kitsunezato sensing this, immediately prayed to whatever god there was, and even better plead to Otoya, himself.

"Oh god, please don't! We have enough with Bachira here! It was an accident!"

"But there is no accident when it comes to Y/n-chan being hurt!!" Bachira fought back.

"I agree-"

"Shut the hell up, Otoya!"

MANSHINE CITY

"WHAT?! Is she okay?!" Reo panicked when he heard the news.

"I swear, its always those from Bastard. What the hell is even happening in that stratum?" Chigiri said with annoyance and worry. Why does chaos always happen in that stratum he wondered.

"Y/n-chan...is she better now?" Nagi, commented from his bed, eyes abnormally wide, like a cat roused from its sleep by a predator.

"Yeah, I heard she's fine. She didn't have any serious concussion anything, which is lucky for all of us! She just needs to rest earlier today, but she will still be able to do her duties tomorrow!" The red-haired said, repeating what he heard from Isagi.

"Good. I kind of feel bad but happy at the same time. I want her to rest, but at the same time I want her to keep working so we can see her again tomorrow." Reo admitted, his back plopping on his bed, purple eyes looking up at the ceiling lights.

"I don't want Y/n-chan to be replaced as our manager, ever..."

"I don't think anyone in here wants that to happen at all, Nagi."

UBERS

"I should've kicked a ball straight to that Kaiser's face when I had the chance."

"That is a red card, Barou, but I don't even think I would stop you. Go wild." Niko sighed. The Ubers players just heard of the news and most of them were not happu with what they heard.

"Poor Y/n-chan, that has to hurt. I remember the first time I got hit on the face, and I'm a defender so I'm used to that! But she isn't even a player." Oliver said, cringing at the thought of being hit by a ball, much less from someone of Kaiser's calibre.

"Damn straight! And those useless peasants couldn't even protect her from those guys. Those damn donkeys." Barou said, his mind towards a specific raven-haired striker that he knew was not only his main rival, but also the main rival of Kaiser and hence why, he believed he was the most responsible for you not managing to avoid the ball in time.

PXG

"Charles! We're training that new move we're planning to make it better and make it hurt for our match with those Germans!" Shidou said, clearly pissed off at the news. The French midfielder only nodded his head, cheering along with the pink-haired striker.

"Fucking lukewarms, you should do it secretly not infront of the many cameras around this damned facility." Rin rolled his eyes, even he wasn't impressed when he heard that you got injured, much less bleeding!

"For the first time, you didn't say anything dumb, Rin-rin. You heard him Charles! We're going to meet up with that German bastard!"

"Yay! Yay! We're gonna avenge Y/n!"

But unfortunately for them, and fortunately for everyone else, Karasu was there to stop the two, holding the scruff of their uniforms immediately.

"Now, now. As much as I also want to square up on that guy, we can't go monster against his ass or do you wanna be electrocuted again, Shidou?"

The blonde and pink haired striker blinked at that and finally shrugged.

"We'll just have to beat them in the upcoming games. So, ya'll better train hard." Karasu said with finality as he headed to his room with the other Blue Lock players, and that idea did not sound bad at all in Rin, Shidou and even Charles' ears.

I hope you guys liked this one! This was supposed to be fun but it turned into some sort of twisted Kaiser angst piece lolol

Blue Lock is WRITTEN by Kaneshiro Muneyuki and ILLUSTRATED by Nomura Yusuke. All credits to the both of them.

[blondejellykitty]

₊ ♡ ˚⊹ I'll be there on their side ₊ ♡ ˚⊹

୨୧ multi demigod x goddess reader ୨୧ the goddess of heroes and the protector of demigods was thought to be a mere myth and that was how she preferred it to be, until the time came when she could no longer stay away. a/n: (1.8k words) my first fic posted !! the title is from 'i bet on losing dogs' by mitski. the ending isn't exactly how i wanted but that's okay :)

Mortal children are told myths just the same as demigods. Usually mortal parents will tell them said stories to help themselves parent them like Jack Frost, to remember to put your jacket on or Santa Claus who won't show unless you behave well.

Parents of demigods however tell them for the child's benefit. Many legends aren't told but are taught at camp, once again to protect the demigods. Very few stories are able to be told without alerting any unwanted attention.

The entirety of the fall of Kronos from Zeus' beginning to his victory and the story of his earliest children. All revolving around Zeus in his prime, probably to keep himself ego inflated and unfaded.

Nevertheless this is another story that circulates the young ears of all demigods. The legend of the protector of demigods. Much is lost to time of the story but not even time himself can rip the hope that the lost goddess can give to the young heroes.

Very few things shocked the Olympians anymore, not in this century anyway. Of course Kronos and Gaea rising was one thing and Percy Jackson himself was another but the whispers from their children that after two titan wars sightings of their lost protector was becoming more frequent seemed to truly shock them.

After a few millennia of no contact from the goddess more than a few gods had assumed she simply faded quietly but now it seemed that wasn't the case at all.

It started as a mistaken identity.

With the son of Poseidon, Percy Jackson had thought she was nothing more than a helpful nymph.

Although the poison from the pit scorpion that Luke Castellan gave him was more than enough of a reason for Percy to not fully take in the figure in front of him.

He could faintly make out the outline of her dress but even that went blurry as quickly as he could blink. After struggling to get to the river in the middle of the deserted forest, he called for help, anyone's help.

So she answered.

In a daze of pain he recalls the feeling of being carried much like his mother used to do when he’d trip and hurt himself. He would have felt embarrassed but with a fading pulse he just mumbled best he could thanks to the tender nymph before his vision was lost to darkness.

After he’d recovered, Chiron told him if he'd been found any later he'd have been dead.

Thirty seconds, he thought.

After he had told everyone, everyone meaning Annabeth about Luke, he went back out to said woods to find the nymph who had helped him.

All he found was a few river spirits nearby who told him that no nymph went that close to the border that day. He’d made the river spirits promise to let him know if the mysterious nymph came back, she never did.

But nonetheless Percy remembered, and held thanks to the helpful nymph.

Mistaken identity shifted to a hallucination.

The son of Hermes, Travis Stoll had sworn himself to secrecy under the impression he'd have imagined the whole encounter.

An embarrassing thought he often let himself drift back to on more than one occasion. It had started when he and Connor had been setting up traps in the woods for the next capture the flag game.

They'd been out there all afternoon, they decided to turn back for curfew, best to not tempt the harpies when he'd tripped on a lodged rock in the ground and managed to roll down and crash into a further down tree.

A thick root from the tree he'd fallen against impaled his side making his shirt and the dirt around him to turn a dark red colour. The sight of the root appearing out his side Connor ran towards camp faster than he'd ever seen him run during their pranks yelling for healers and for Chiron.

When he'd think back on it he wasn't sure if it was the quiet of the forest or the numbness of his body but dark spots began to invade his vision and he couldn't help but embrace them without caution.

Until the most beautiful woman came out from behind a nearby tree, rushing towards him in a fuzzy blur. Her elegant hair falling past her face almost making a blanket of warmth and safety around the two of them.

She was the most stunning thing he'd ever seen. Better than the full moon, the sunrise and sunset. Better than the ocean or a flower. He could hear her softly speaking to him but he couldn't make out the words.

He didn't know how long he'd been staring in awe at the woman. Travis was sure he'd be red with embarrassment if all his 'red' wasn't currently bleeding out of him.

He looked over towards where he heard his brother's frantic voice getting closer to him. The sight of him and a few cabin 7 campers not far behind him did well to ease his own worry. He looked back for the woman but she was gone.

He doubted if he'd seen the woman but shook it off as nothing more than pain induced illusion.

Then from a hallucination to a mortal.

The son of Hades, Nico di Angelo should've known better than to assume that anyone who approached him was 100% mortal.

After spending more time in the demigod world he realized that mortals don't ever come over to talk to demigods, or maybe that was just his problem.

Nevertheless even mortals can see some kind of underworld aura around him even if they don't understand what they're seeing.

Which makes it all the more irritating that his younger self didn't realize the woman who helped him was probably not entirely mortal. He could still remember it so clearly, she was after all one of the few at that time that had been kind to him.

He had spent the night searching for an entrance to the underworld, his father had told him in a dream a few nights prior that it was in the area. He also mentioned that it was supposed to be easier to find for children of his.

Well that turned out to be crap.

Nico had spent all day and now late into the night walking around New york city trying to find a specific street corner. He was tired and hungry but most of all angry.

He called off his search once his eyes started to sting. Finding a bus stop bench to rest at. He pulled his knees to rest his head against. Tears stung his eyes more than his fatigue when a smell of food wafted near him.

Lifting his head he saw a woman, dressed in a cozy cardigan, the beige kind a mother would wear. She was carrying a bag, he could faintly make out the logo of the logo of a restaurant he remembered passing on the contains inside.

She never spoke but her eyes almost made him cry, a look of care and worry. one he'd imagined his own mother having from the stories Bianca would tell him.

She leaned over and rested the beg softly on the bench next to him, he could feel the heat from it warming her leg. He asked her who she was and why she'd given him her food but all she did was smile and ruffle his hair like Bianca used to do.

He could feel his tears roll down his neck as he watched her keep walking down the street until she eventually walked out of vision. He was just glad someone was kind to him.

Even if it was just a friendly mortal.

Then from a mortal to a mother.

The son of Hermes, Chris Rodriguez couldn't believe he could see his mother in the middle of the haunted Labyrinth.

It had been Luke who ordered him to go into the traumatizing maze and he'd done it willingly, so eager to help his older brother for the cause of getting revenge, justice, to be noticed.

But as most things in Chris's life it had gone horribly wrong. He couldn't even remember most of the horror he'd seen in there, the human brain forcing him to forget just so that he can move on from it all.

But one of the few things that stuck with him was the memory of his mother. Now, he knew it was completely impossible his mother, who'd died just helping him to get to camp, was in the labyrinth with him but his vivid recollection of those moments left little doubt.

He remembers leaning against one of the ever shifting walls, ready to give up on getting out for good.

When he felt a warm hand on his shoulder, he recalls not even flinching from it because of the calming ease it put him in, he could feel himself slurring his word and frantically almost magically speaking but it wouldn't reach his ears.

He had a light aura around her, and a gentle smile as she carefully lead the way through the twists and turns of the darken maze.

He relives the memory as best he can, he could still hear the faint whispers from her mouth, promising she wouldn't let him go and that it would be alright soon.

In hindsight that was something his mother would never do, his mother cared for him not was anything but emotional.

Part of him likes to think that Thanatos had lost her soul for a moment and she'd come to help when he most needed her.

He was just glad that someone had helped him because he hated the thought of what had happened to him if they hadn't.

Finally from a mother to a mourner.

The son of Jupiter, Jason Grace was the lost goddess' last straw.

Too many had already lost their lives in wars fought in seemingly vain. No matter how she felt for them nor how she longed to help them, rules were rules as the King of Olympus loved to remind everyone.

But when the fate meddled day approached and her sweet kind hero had perished, some rules were to be broken in order to do some good.

The day Jason Grace died was a day every demigod remembers, they felt the sadness draped over both camps and everyone in them.

Even demigods who had never even met the fallen hero were mourning him with such intensity.

The lost goddess knew it was because of her her grief was spilling into their own lives, her sadness swallowing them up with it.

Part of her wanted to stop, knowing it was affecting the little heroes but another darker part wanted it to spur them into action, she wanted it to make them want change.

But look how that had turned out the first time. As much as she wanted to change she settled for a medium, she’d change and she'd do what she was meant to.

Help the young heroes live and thrive, no matter the cost to any other immortal in her way...

[madman479r]

A change of Schneenery

Weiss:... *staring blankly at book*

Ruby: Hey, Weiss. You okay?

Weiss: Huh, what? I mean, yes. Why wouldn't I be?

Yang: Because you've been staring at the same page for 20 minutes, so unless you're a slow reader, something is bothering you.

Weiss: Since when are you observant?

Yang: Nice redirection, now spill.

Weiss:... *sighs* Well, as you know, Winter has been able to visit since Atlas has lent some of its forces to Vale and Beacon.

Blake: The sister you strive to impress and feel that nothing you do is good enough so you push harder? Yes, we know.

Weiss: Thank you for that unnecessary commentary, Blake. But yes. During our tea time, I asked if she would like to spar this evening after classes, but she said she was... otherwise engaged.

Yang: So, what? You're bummed because she's busy with work?

Weiss: It's not that. I understand she is quite busy, having responsibilities as a high ranking Atlas Specialist, I've come to terms with that and cherished the short times we get to spend together, but she said that this engagement was not work related, but rather... a... date.

Ruby: *Gasp* Oh! Your sister has a boyfriend?! That's great, good for her!

Weiss: She doesn't have a boyfriend, dunce! It is apparently her first evening with this person, so he's hardly a "boyfriend", and I wouldn't use such an immature title for Winter.

Yang: Whoa! Calm down, Ice Queen. Jeez, you seem pretty wound up by this guy.

Blake: Maybe it's because she's jealous.

Weiss: Jealous?! Of what, exactly? Why would I be jealous of Winter?

Blake: Not Winter. But of the guy she's going on a date with.

Yang:.. Weiss, please tell me you don't think incest is wincest.

Weiss: W-WHAT?! GET SUCH FILTHY, DEGENERATE THOUGHTS OUT OF YOUR MIND, XIAO LONG!

Blake: Not like that, either of you. I meant as in you're jealous of this mystery guy because you're afraid of him cutting into your 'Winter' time, and she'll have less time for you.

Ruby: Oooooh! Well that's ridiculous too, Weiss. Winter is your sister, your big sister. And she'll always have time for you, the best big sisters do. Even if they can be a little overboard.

Yang: Are you referring to me?

Ruby: I don't know. Do you know anyone else who stood outside my friend's home and watched the house all night while I was having a sleep over?

Yang: It was your first time, I was just making sure they weren't the bitchy type.

Ruby: Anyway, just remember, Winter will always love you and have time for you.

Weiss:... Thanks, Ruby. I guess I just needed to hear that.

Yang: So, who is the guy that managed to capture your sister's heart. If she's got an even bigger stick up her ass than you do, he must have been a catch.

Weiss: Har har. But to answer your question, I'm not sure. She never gave me a name or even a description.

**KNOCK KNOCK**

Weiss: I'll get it. **Opens door to see...**

Weiss: Winter? What are you doing here? And why are you dressed like that?

Winter: Weiss? Oh, I think I may have the wrong room.

Weiss: What?

**Sound of a door behind Winter opening**

???: Winter?

**Winter and Weiss look to see**

Weiss: Urgh, Arc. What do you-

Winter: Ah, Jaune, I hope I'm not too late for our date.

Weiss: YOUR WHAT?!

Jaune: Oh, no. Just on time if anything. And can I say you look stunning.

Winter: *///* Oh, flatterer. You clean up quite nice yourself. Very handsome.

Jaune: *Rubs back of head with a blush* Yeah, I didn't think my hoodie would be a good attire. Oh! Uh? **Offers arm for her to hold** Shall we?

Winter: *locks her arm around Jaune's and waves to Weiss** I shall see you soon, sister. Sorry to disturb you. *walks off with Jaune.*

Weiss:... *twitching eye* (mind .exe has stopped working)

Yang: Dang. Didn't think I'd say this, but vomit boy looked kinda hot dressed like that. He should try that more often.

Blake: I didn't think we'd see the day he actually managed to get a date.

Ruby: Blake! That's mean.

Blake: Sorry but you can't deny what I said.

Yang: Yeah, sorry sis. But Jaune isn't exactly beating the women away with a stick, not with his dorky attitude. But still, I guess Jaune just hit the right buttons for Ice Queen senior.

Weiss: This... this has to be a mistake. A cruel joke! How could my sister, the epitome of perfection and sophistication, even entertain the idea of spending time with that buffoon?!

Yang: Hey, like I said, maybe she just saw something in him we didn't. Besides, it's just a date. It's not like she's gonna marry him.

Weiss: Do not put such disturbing imagery in my head, Yang.

Blake: Uh, guys? What's that on the floor?

Weiss: Hmm? Is... is that...

Yang: Holy shit, that's a condom! Vomit boy is kinda moving fast.

Ruby: Girls...

Weiss: That pervert!

Ruby: Weiss.

Weiss: He thinks he can so easily bed my sister and sully her name?!

Ruby: Weiss!

Weiss: I'm going to take this condom, find Winter and expose Arc for his degeneracy!

Ruby: WEISS!

Weiss: WHAT?!

Ruby: That condom doesn't belong to Jaune. It fell where Winter was standing

Weiss:...

Blake: **Slowly goes back to reading.**

Yang:... Damn.

[lostinlovingrevery]

Old man Logan with reader who is lonely, has no friends but is still a ray of sunshine with him, always trying to impress him and give him pretty gifts and getting all dolled up for him. She is sad inside though, apart from being his boyfriend, he is her only friend

My Ray Of Sunshine (Why Are You So Sad?)

Old Man Logan X F! Reader

A/N: I hope this is okay! Started angsty, but I wanted it to be happy for both reader and Logan in the end. Loneliness is an awful feeling (smth I'm all too familiar with) If anyone ever needs to talk, my inbox is always open!! I had a little trouble figuring out where to go with this, so I hope this satisfies you!

Plot: You and Logan have been dating for some time, but you still feel the intense loneliness that wraps it's arms around you, him being the only one in your life - and you feel like he's not honest with you.

Warnings: Angsty, slight depression, mention of loneliness, happy endings

Word Count: 2021

"Hi Lo," You cooed as you answered the phone, a smile stretching across your face.

"Hey sunshine," You heard his gruff voice on the other line, giving your heart a flutter. You always loved the sound of his voice, no matter how gruff and cranky he could sound - he never takes it out on you though.

"You still coming over tonight?" You ask as you walk across the room, your fingers tapping along the small box that sat on your desk. A present you decided to get Logan, a nice little silver watch he can wear. There was a moment of silence, "Lo?"

A small sigh,

"Sorry. I can't. I have to work."

Your face fell, but you took a deep breath. "Oh, that's alright!" You say, putting on your best happy-go-lucky voice. You didn't want him to feel bad, just by the tone of his voice you could tell he was having a bad day. "We'll plan for another night baby. You get a request?"

"Yeah, Bachelors party." He says. "Big payout."

"Oooh....Nice paycheck then huh? You can make it up to me later by taking me out somewhere nice then." You tease. You couldn't see the fond smile on his face, but you could picture it.

"Yeah. We'll plan on it. Promise." He says. You chewed on your lip, as you felt that swell of emptiness build up inside you.

Another night alone.

"Sunshine?"

"Huh?" You snapped out of your thoughts. "Sorry, sorry-" You laughed. "Zoned out again. What?"

"I gotta go, got a job. I'll call you later, or in the morning. That alright?"

"Yes, of course." You smiled. "Be safe, okay tough guy?"

You heard a warm chuckle, which made you relax. "Yeah, I will. See you doll."

You heard the phone beep and sighed. Alright.

You and Logan had been dating for a little bit. Meeting in a small little diner that you waitress at. It started as harmless flirting, but then you both managed to find yourself able to talk to each other so easily. Logan listened to you, seemed so openly accepting of you. How could you not be drawn to him?

You thought yourself a little ridiculous for gaining a crush on an older man like Logan, but then his weathered charm got to you - and you just couldn't help it. You'd slip him extra treats on the down-low, not charging him for them. An extra cup of coffee, a slice of apple pie, once you even managed to slip him a stack of pancakes. He'd smile at you and your antics as you slide the plate across the counter and give him a wink- his smile being something tired yet warm that made your knees weak and butterflies shoot through you.

You put more effort into your appearance, especially when you knew he was going to be there. Dolling yourself up - not your usual thing to do but when you got a man like Logan coming around...Well, it's hard not to want to look pretty for him.

It was you that finally convinced him to go on a date with you, and you surprised him by taking him to a gorgeous museum the next city over. You had wondered initially if he scoff at that- him being the gruff and older man he is, but he seemed to really enjoy it. He listened to you ramble on and on about Vincent Van Gogh, one of your favorite painters as you listed everything you knew about him, explaining the misconceptions about him as a painter and a person.

You took the charge of the relationship that formed between you. You planned dates, which seemed to make Logan happy- your infectious happiness- not rubbing off on him but more giving him some much needed relief in what you must believe is a very stressful life for him. He deemed you his sunshine, a pet-name you wore with pride.

You believe it's stressful- or rather assume. He never really told you about his personal life. You know he was a limo driver, you know he lived on the outskirts of town - you never been where he lived. He mentioned something about taking care of his father. He's shared a few stories- always seemingly missing information in them like he was purposely leaving out parts of them.

It made it worse by the fact that he really is the only person in your life right now. You adored Logan and did everything you could to make him happy because he was the only one to give your love to. You spend the time you can together, when he visits your work, or when he comes and stays with you for the night. He's busy though, so he's not really there as often as you wish he was.

Actually, you probably love him. You haven't told him that though. You always feel though that he's hiding something from you. It's disheartening really, he'll listen to you, he's heard your secrets but you never hear his. He refuses to bring you to his place, making some excuse that yours was nicer and maybe it was but you didn't care about that. It created a space between you, something you're not sure if Logan recognizes himself.

You moved to change out of the pretty yellow dress you had on to see Logan, wiping your makeup off and pulling your hair into a messy bun as you prepared to spiral into a night of anxiety, depression, and wine.

You settled on your couch, flipping the tv on, surfing through channel after channel. The night got darker and you got more and more tired. The shadows of your living room, seemingly your only company for tonight, closing in on you as the tv flickered over your curled up form.

Your eyelids grew heavy, as your felt the sinking feeling of your heart, reminding you that you were by yourself again. Inevitably wondering when will Logan leave?

Heavy knocks on your door startled you, as you sat up on the couch and confusion stretched across your face. Worry settled in you, as you had to wonder what shifty characters were knocking on your door at night?

You stood up and crossed the apartment, peeking through the peephole of your door, you're shocked to find Logan standing there. You gasped, stepping back to unlock your door and open it.

"Logan?"

"Hi sunshine." He greeted you, and smiled warmly, his eyes crinkling in the corners as his smile lines became more prominent. He held a bouquet of sunflowers in one hand.

"What are you...What are you doing here?"

"I missed ya." He says gently, a lingering gruff in his voice. "Can I come in?"

You bit your lip, and nodded. Still, your lingering feelings stuck in the back of your head. Stepping back, you forced a smile up at him as he stepped inside, holding the bouquet up.

"I figured you'd like them because...You know. That painter who- Are you okay?" He stopped, squinting at you, as he watched your eyes met with the bouquet, and tears filled your eyes. "Hey, hey sunshine, what's wrong?" He asks softly, bringing his hand up to your chin, tipping it upwards to look up at him. You bit your lip and shook your head.

"Sorry-" You say pulling away from him, wiping your eyes. "I'm just happy to see you..." You lied through your teeth. His eyes, he looked tired.

"Don't know about that sweetheart..." He mutters, examining your expression. "What is it? The flowers? You hate em?"

"No." You let out a small laugh, crossing your arms. He turned to shut the door behind him, locking it before setting the flowers on a nearby table, his hands coming to rest on your arms.

"Well?" He looks down at you, his face serious, but his eyes held concern. "You don't need to pretend with me darling."

You were caught off guard by him, showing up suddenly when you felt your worst. Your instinct screamed at you to push him away, to pretend that it was all okay. You didn't want to bring him down. Your anxiety peeked at the idea that he may be disappointed by this version of yourself, that he would see the lonely person you are, and leave because he wouldn't want to deal with you.

But they way he looked at you, you couldn't help it as the dam broke, and he pulled you tight to his chest, holding you as you cried.

"I'm sorry doll. I didn't mean to hurt you by canceling." He says softly, his hand petting your hair gently.

"No..No, it's not you." You sniffled, stepping away for a moment. "I...I just feel so alone sometimes. I like you a lot Lo, I love us spending time together but when you're not around I'm just by myself and it...It's just terrible."

Logan brows creased, as he brought a hand to cup your cheek. "I didn't know." He says gently. You let out a shaky sigh and looked back up at him.

"You're the only person in my life." You continue. "I don't feel like I don't completely know you though. Not like how you know me. I feel like you're keeping things from me or that you're...Only sticking around temporarily."

"That's not true." He says quickly, and firmly. "I care about you sunshine." His thumb wiped away a tear. "A lot. More than I have a right too. You're....Everything sweetheart. I count myself a damn lucky guy that I met you, that you let me be apart of your life. "

You swallowed and nodded, looking away as you let out a small sigh. You both stood there in silence.

"I..." He started. "I don't know how to stop you from feeling alone but...I get it. You're right. I haven't told you the whole truth."

He grabbed your hand, leading you over to the couch, as you both sat down.

"You ready for this?" He asks.

~~~~~~~~

You stood outside the hot desert sun, as you look around the barren horizon. Logan let out a small cough, as he puffed on the cigar that he was smoking.

"It's quiet." You say.

"Yeah." He nods, his eyes trailing over you as he tried to read your body language.

After an intense conversation last night, you both passed out on your couch. When you woke up in the morning, Logan had you get dressed, and brought you to his...well, where he lives. Can't really call it a home.

That was you.

He felt terrible when you admitted to him everything you struggled with. He adored the way you always seemed to be optimistic, the way you got yourself all dolled up for him, the way you tried to spoil him and every way possible. That's not why he liked you though. He liked your character, he liked the person you are. Not just for what you do for him. You were a fresh breath of air for him. His sunshine.

He wished you see yourself the way he does. You're always encouraging him, to look at himself and see himself as a good man. He didn't know how long he got but he'll spend every second with you to prove you are the most wonderful and loveable person.

You looked at him and smiled. The sunlight gleamed off his new watch that you gifted him. He finished the cigar, flicking it to the ground and stomping it out with the heel of his shoe, before putting an arm around your shoulders.

"You ready to meet the old man?"

"Uh Lo, you're right here." You tease, wrapping your arm around his waist. He chuckled warmly.

"Real cute." He mutters shaking his head, as he led you to the decrepit water tower. He went to the door, and slid it open, a harsh grunt escaping him as it rolled open, he stood to the side and waited as you walked in.

Inside you saw two men. One, sitting in a chair reading a comic book, looking up at you. He had white skin, and yellow eyes. That one must be Caliban.

"Hello dear-" The other man greets. An older gentleman, lying in a bed with a warm smile. You smiled back as he reached his hand out to you, and walked over and took it. "I've heard so much about you from Logan. It's nice to finally meet you. Tell me...Which of Van Goghs paintings is your favorite?"

[yuikomorii]

AYAYUI IDOL AU: Chapter 1

// I present to you… MY FIRST EVER FANFIC! It’s inspired by these headcanons and these posts. As mentioned before, in this story, the Sakamakis are simply regular idols with a vampire-themed concept; they’re not actually vampires or related. Since I noticed how much you all enjoy this kind of content and have been so supportive, I thought you might like a fanfic based on it. ☺️

I’m by no means a professional writer, and my style leans more towards the visual novel/otome game format. Even so, I hope you’ll like it! 💕

Voice announcement: Ladies and gentlemen, we have now arrived at our destination.

Before you disembark, please take a moment to ensure you have all your personal belongings with you. For your safety, mind the gap between the train and the platform edge as you exit.

We sincerely thank you for choosing our services and travelling with us. It has been our pleasure to serve you, and we hope to welcome you aboard again soon. Take care!

Yui: ( Eh? Is this…—! )

— eyes widen —

I’m here… I’m finally here!

Yui’s Monologue

I can’t believe my dream is actually coming true! All this time, this seemed like a childish wish but right now I truly am in Tokyo…!

Uuh… I’m getting a bit emotional, but can you blame me? It simply feels… surreal.

I never thought my father would agree to let me join a work exchange program in such a massive and dynamic city.

To be honest, I was half expecting him to say no, but it seems he believes in me more than I thought.

Knowing that he trusts me this much… it really makes me want to work even harder to prove he made the right choice.

Yes, that’s so. I will try my best to make father proud!

— takes big breath —

Yui: Nice to meet you, Tokyo. Let’s make this journey one to remember.

Place: Studio

Photographer: And~… pose! Ah yes, exactly like that! Keep on, keep on!

Ayato: ( Man, this shit is so tiring at this point. )

— smiles falsely —

Photographer: W-Wonderful…! Another one, thank you!

— keeps taking pictures —

Ayato: ( Can this woman stop blinding me with that flashlight already? It’s past 11 pm… )

Photographer: Now, a profile sho——

Manager: Hold on.

Pardon my intrusion, but I believe we already have enough pictures for today. Don't you think so?

Photographer: Eh? But we just got star— Oh my, it’s almost 12 am!?

G-Geez, my apologies. I guess the saying “time flies when you’re having fun” must really apply here.

— winks at Ayato —

Ayato: ( Gross! )

Manager: If more promotional pictures are required, we can extend the photoshoot to tomorrow. Watanabe-san, would it be possible for you to arrive earlier if that is the case?

Photographer: With such eye candy around, who could resist spending more time with him~?

Fufu, just kidding. I'll contact the director and get back to you with an answer as soon as possible.

Until then, have a good night! Bye-bye~!

— leaves —

Ayato: Haa… thanks goodness! One more photo, and I might’ve completely lost it.

Manager: I understand completely. Given your schedule, it’s clear you’re quite overworked. Nevertheless, it’s impressive how you still manage to perform so well.

Ayato: Heh… thanks.

— rubs eyes —

Manager: You look a bit tired, Ayato-san. Rest assured, the limousine should be arriving soon.

Ayato: Right, the limo is on its——

( Fuck! I can’t believe I almost forgot about it! )

Wait! Now that I think about it, I’ve got something else to take care of.

So… don’t mind me! Go ahead and take the limo; I’ll call for another one later.

Manager: Haa… Ayato-san.

You're not planning to do something that could get you into trouble, are you?

Ayato: O-Of course not! It’s just… no, it’s nothing important. Just a silly little thing I remembered I had to solve.

— tries to leave —

Manager: Ayato-san!

Ayato: Huh?

Manager: Do NOT let anyone see you, understood?

— Ayato nods and leaves —

???: You’re late.

Ayato: …!

Man, you almost gave me a heart attack!

Laito: My bad~. You came prepared at least, didn’t you?

Ayato: Yeah, yeah.

— puts cap and mask on —

Laito: Nfu, let’s go, shall we?

Place: Street

Yui: Uuh… come on! Why is no taxi in sight?

( It’s been two hours and I still couldn’t find my way to the Airbnb. )

( I knew Tokyo was huge, but I wasn’t expecting the transportation system to be this complicated… )

— looks at sky —

( It’s already late, huh? )

( I wonder if it’s safe for a girl to roam on these streets at this hour. Well, at least I hope it is, otherwise… )

Place: Private Night Club

Laito: Two Cosmopolitans. One for me, and one for that very fine lady over there, nfu.

Ayato: Another glass of Tequila.

Laito: Heh, another one? Is this the fifth by chance?

Ayato: I had a busy week, okay?

Laito: Ah, of course you did. After all, our Ayato-kun is the IT boy of this generation. Always swamped with brand deals, while the rest of us barely get a crumb~.

Ayato: …Not funny.

Laito: C’mon, don’t take it too seriously.

— pats his back —

I doubt any of us could care less about brand deals anyway. The idol job already pays well enough, and with barely any time for ourselves, why would we want to give up even more of our freedom?

Ayato: ( It’s not like it’s my choice though. )

Well, I can’t deny that the love I get is cool and all, but sometimes… hmm, how do I put it? It feels like people only like me because I’m an idol, y’know?

Laito: That’s to be expected, isn’t it? Fans often form a one-sided connection with idols simply because we’re constantly visible and accessible through the media, without really knowing who we are or what we’re capable of.

On top of that, you’re the visual, the face everyone admires. Who wouldn’t be drawn to someone who's not only stunning but also famous? It’s like the perfect package for embodying every girl’s fantasy.

Ayato’s monologue

Laito… he always knows what to say.

Seriously, this guy is so aware of everything around him to the point that it’s becoming unsettling.

And the worst part? He’s not just talking—he’s right, which is why it almost hurts to hear it.

At the end of the day, we idols are just puppets, carefully crafted to feed into the fans’ delusions. They don’t see us for who we truly are, but rather as a fantasy they can cling to.

And we, caught in the spotlight, are forced to live out that role.

Before becoming an idol, I was surrounded by people who kept me around because of my looks. At first, the amount of attention felt good, but as I mature, I realize just how hollow that really is.

I can’t help but wonder… if it weren’t for my appearance or status, would anyone actually treat me nicely? Would anyone be willing to accept me, flaws and all?

Heh… now I just sound stupid. As long as I’m an idol, I doubt I’ll get my answer anytime soon.

Waitress: Here we go, gentlemen. The Cosmopolitan and the Tequila.

Laito: Hello, earth to Ayato-kun, are you still in there?

— waves in front of his eyes —

Ayato: Yeah, yeah. I was just spacing out a bit.

Laito: Nfu, cheers.

Ayato: Cheers.

— they start drinking —

Ayato: Ngh…!

( My chest… it started aching! )

Laito: Hm, you good?

Ayato: Y-Yeah… I just— Ngh!

( It’s getting worse! )

I need some fresh air, that’s all.

— quickly puts on mask and cap —

I’ll be right back.

— quickly goes outside —

( Haa… Haa… what is happening…!? )

Agh… fuck!

( It hurts…! Could this be…—— )

— eyes widen —

( No… No, don’t tell me this is a real heart attack! )

Hnn… Ngh!

( What… what should I do now!? )

???: Quick! Please, drink this!!

— hands him water —

Ayato: Huh…?

— takes it and starts drinking —

???: A-Are you feeling better? I got another bottle in case you need it too.

Ayato: Haa… Haa… It’s okay now, all good.

???: Are you sure…? You really seemed in a lot of pain.

Ayato: Yeah… no worries.

( This girl… she just saved my life, didn’t she? )

By the way, uhm… thanks for that.

???: A-Ah, it’s nothing, really.

As far as I recall from my father, drinking water after alcohol can help reduce chest pain and lessen the severity of a hangover. I’m glad to see that it actually works.

Ayato: Heck yeah, I’m glad to see that it worked too, otherwise who knows how I would have ended up.

— the girl giggles —

???: You should be more careful though. Drinking too much alcohol can be very dangerous.

Ayato: ( Okay, mom. )

Yeah, yeah, I got it. I’m not usually like that.

Moreover… why exactly did you help me?

???: Eh? What do you mean?

Ayato: ( Could it be that she actually recognized me? )

( My face is practically hidden behind the mask and cap, and we’re in the dark, so there’s no way she could have, right? But if she did… )

???: Uuh… I suppose it was out of pure instinct.

Ayato: Instinct, huh?

???: Yup. You see, I heard you struggling, so there was no way I could brush that off.

Ayato: Hmm… But wait a minute, what were you doing all alone at this hour?

( What if she’s a stalker then? )

???: Ah… uhm… T-That’s a bit embarrassing to say out loud.

Ayato: Oh, come on, you straight up saw me about to drop dead from drinking Tequila. There’s no way this could be more embarrassing than that.

???: Actually… today’s my first day in Tokyo, and I’ve been struggling for almost 3 hours just trying to get to my Airbnb.

I tried taking the subway, but there were way too many lines, and I got lost at some point.

As for taxis, every time I tried to flag one down, the driver just ignored me.

Ayato: ( Nevermind, I’m taking it back. This might truly be more embarrassing. )

Pfft, why didn’t you call for a cab then?

???: I couldn’t find any reliable number…

Ayato: Hmm… Alright then.

I just arranged one for you. You’ll just have to tell them your location and wait for them to get you there. There’s also no need for you to pay.

— lends her money —

???: E-Eh!? Thank you… thank you so much! But I’m sorry, I just can’t accept the money!

Ayato: Nah, it’s fine, seriously. After all, you’re the one who helped me first.

Just promise me you won’t tell anyone about what happened today. Understood?

— the girl nods —

Ayato: Heh, great. Well, I guess it was nice to meet you. Now it’s time for me to return.

???: W-Wait! I forgot to catch your name!

Ayato: …!

( So she really doesn’t know me? )

It’s——

( No… it’s too risky. )

Oh look, the cab arrived! You should hurry up!

???: But—

( He left…? )

Yui’s monologue

As the taxi started moving, I found myself looking back, almost subconsciously, hoping to catch one last glimpse of that boy.

Today had been exhausting, but despite the strange circumstances in which we met, those brief minutes spent with him were oddly comforting.

I wonder who he is and what his life is like. It feels a bit silly, I know, to be thinking so much about someone whose name I don’t even know.

But there was something in his presence that made me feel in a way I haven’t felt in a long time.

Whatever it was, it stuck with me, lingering in my thoughts even after we parted ways.

My journey has only just begun, and yet I can’t shake the feeling that meeting him was no coincidence.

I really hope I get the chance to cross paths with him again.

[cherryblossompink303]

Patience: ~And so Kyoya met her!~

➼ pairing: Kyoya Ootori x Reader ➼ summary: The announcement from the ootori group leads Kyoya to remanisce on when you first met ➼ what to expect:  "Yeah well...I'm not just a pretty face" ➼ warnings: ➼ Part Twenty Two | Part Twenty Four

"You're such a good painter Y/n" One of the guests marvels at the canvas before you. "Thanks" You smile, going back to the coastal landscape. "A painting afternoon was a good idea" Tamaki notes, looking over both of your shoulders at the painting.

Kyoya and haruhi stand at the outskirts of the room "You know...I spoke to y/n once...about her relationship with you, because the way I see it you two are very much opposite. At the time she told me that she is more calculating than she seems but for someone who is supposedly so...well...like you...she is incredibly nurturing"

Kyoya looks up to glance at where you are, gleaming at the praise for your art. He smirks "What exactly are you trying to imply about my relationship Haruhi?"

"All I'm saying is that for someone so cold I don't know how you ended up so attached to someone so...well someone like her" Kyoya smiles. "Well, that is a long story"

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And so Kyoya met her!

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It had been a perfectly normal day for Kyoya, the ouran host club had been running for about a month and it picked up remarkably quickly. Although he was still being pestered by his father, although the message was clear by now 'y/n l/n, your fiance, has transferred to ouran academy, make a point to meet her and become acquianted'

Usually he would had no issue with these types of things. But somehow he has managed to get into his head about it. Kyoya has never thought himself to be one to catch himself worried about relationships, but something about meeting the girl he would one day have to marry he had been dreading.

It wasn't worries about first impressions or anything like that. It is finding out what type of person would be stuck with him for the rest of their lives. He had already gathered some information on her, he was perfectly aware of who she was, y/n l/n, class 1A, highschool transfer from europe, her japanese is not amazing but she scores high on almost every test.

In the end Kyoya decided that he wouldn't avoid you, but he also would not seek you out either. Because while he hadn't approached you yet, neither had you him.

"Kyoya, I was thinking, we should get a consultant for the host club" the statement caused Kyoya to look up from his book, an event that was rare back then. "A consultant?"

"You know, a feminine touch to the host club, a consultant on the female gaze if you will" Kyoya knew that regardless of his answer that Tamaki had already made his mind up. That is always the case but then again Tamaki always understood the certain uncalculable aspect of the host club that he could not comprehend.

"I suppose that would make sense, do you have anyone in mind?” he returned to his book, sighing at the headache that was Tamaki's dreams being balanced against the clubs budget.

“As a matter of fact I do, I’ve recently met the newest international student and I feel she would be a good fit” He paused, he couldn't mean....no...you weren't the only international transfer he may not mean you. "What is her name? I'll have to meet with her"

"L/N"

And there it was, in black and white, your name. irefutably, it was his fiance, Tamaki just couldn't have chosen someone else. "I see"

"She is quite wonderful you know, I started talking to her because she brought some french food in for lunch one day. It turns out she is quite...insightful"

"Insightful you say?"

"Indeed, it is quite indescribable, you have to meet her" Kyoya sighed, knowing there was no getting out of it. He supposed that at least it would appease his father for now.

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"Hello?" The creak of the door and the broken accent caught Kyoya's attention. "Oh hello" Hikaru soon appeared in front of you "Well aren't you cute" Kaoru appeared on the side of you. "I'm sorry but club hours haven't started yet, but we will be more than happy to see you then"

"Yes indeed...please do come back later, you'll break our hearts if you don't"

"Leave it you two, I invited miss l/n here, she's our new consultant" Tamaki steps forward "Sorry about them" You smiled "It is alright" you step further into the room. "This is hikaru and Kaoru, pay no attention to them"

"gee thanks boss, a glowing review in front of the pretty lady"

"Come meet the rest of the club" he led you futher into the music room "This is Honey-Senpai and Mori-Senpai, and my co-founder Kyoya"

Kyoya still remembers to this day the look on your face when you realised. The look of realisation and terror and possibly slight hope as the two of you made eye contact. He doesn't think he will ever forget it. "K-Kyoya?" you muttered, barely audible, like you were trying it out to feel how it sounded.

It was only then that he realised the circumstances he was in, he was about to have his first interaction with you and it was going to be in the same conversation as with the entire rest of the host club.

Kyoya stands, slowly approaching you, unsure of whether he should let the information of your connection slip. "Miss l/n it is nice to meet you" He resulted in his usual autopilot cordiality that he usually puts on when meeting the child of a prominent businessman.

"Likewise" you return the look, quickly picking up on the situation. "Come and sit y/n we can discuss things, honey-senpai would you mind getting our guest some tea?"

"Of course tama-chan!"

"Oh, could I actually get some coffee please, I am not a massive tea drinker"

the three of you sat, that being you, Kyoya, and Tamaki, the former two avoiding making eye contact with eachother. "So y/n how much do you know about host clubs?"

"In full honesty not much, i know the general concept i think"

Tamaki smiled "That's okay, you don't really need to know much anyway, basically our jobs are to appeal to the female gaze and improve ladies days, we have the second one down...we're kinda struggling with the first"

"I see"

Honey-senpai skipped over with a cup of coffee and a cake "y/n-san I brought you a cake too!"

"Thank you Honey-Senpai" you smile at him, dropping a couple of sugars into the coffee. "I think in full honesty that It perhaps would be best that I observe how the club runs before I give you any advice on your issue"

Kyoya hummed "I agree"

"good idea, club hours start soon anyway, you are welcome to stay here and observe how we run" You were a lot quieter back then that now, Kyoya remembers pondering whether that was due to your lack of profeciency in the language or because she were shy.

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Not an hour later the two of you found youselves sat alone together at a table on the outskirts of the host club. You people watching, he scribbling away. "I would have thought that the cofounder of the host club would actually...host"

"My role is more on the management side, but I do host occasionally, when I am requested"

"I see"

"I would have thought that a consultant would want to take notes"

"I don't really need to, not yet at least...it's all up here" You muttered, looking out into the host club with an interrogatory gaze. "That is unless you need me to write stuff down for you to reference"

Kyoya paused, refraining from his mouth hanging slightly agape. You weren't like what he imagined you would be. He assumed that you would fall into one of two catagories, either like the guests of the host club, or like the other only children of CEO's, but you didn't fit either of those descriptions. He couldn't place you. And it was starting to eat at him.

You raised an eyebrow at the non-response from Kyoya, reaching over to carefully take the book from him, flipping to the back pages to not disrupt any order he had in there. "You see the problem is that you need to start personalising more, while the girls who come here have a lot in common the truth is they are all very different in their backgrounds"

you started writing down what you explain as you said it "Basic psychology dictates that what one seeks out in either comfort or attraction is formed by their childhoods, more often or not by what they lack in childhood. While everyone here may have the common thread of rich kids their upbringings will have been vastly different. You can see it in what type of host they request"

Kyoya hummed for you to continue. Interested in seeing where you were going with this. "So you need to start paying attention to these details, each guests habits will form a pattern"

"For someone who is unfamiliar with the concept of a host club you sure seemed to put that together quite quickly"

"It's what I'm here for is it not? But it is as they say, the closer you look, the less you see, step back and you can view the full picture. In essence what you do here is actually quite...simple..." you caught yourself at the end of the sentence as you realised that you had been rambling, shyly pushing back the notebook.

"Interesting..." Kyoya smirks, taking back the notebook. "Is that why we have not addressed the elephant in the room?"

"I was waiting for you to mention it...i wasn't sure you knew who i was...didn't want to freak you out"

"I know who you are y/n, of course I do"

You nod. "Well then, do you want to discuss it? The fact that we are...." You trailed off, realising where the two of you were sat. "You know"

"I don't think there is much to discuss, we both know the position that we are it, i thought it was worth mentioning..."

"I must admit, I did not expect you to be part of a highschool host club of all things, from what i've heard about the ootori family" Kyoya chuckled "I assure you I am not like my family"

"Who is that girl, did she request kyoya?"

The comment from a nearby table seemingly caught both of your attentions. You hummed out a laugh "I suppose that considering you are a host you don't wanting our...arrangement, advertised"

"It...may be for the better, if you are okay with that"

"Sure, especially since it seems that I will be here more often."

It was not some great love story for the ages, or love at first sight. But Kyoya would not change a single second of it. Their relationship was built, it didn't just appear.

It became routine, the two of you, in your corner of the host club. Sitting in comfortable silence while the two of your worked, until slowly the silences started to become shorter and shorter.

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"I didn't take you to be an artist" you approach kyoya, looking over his shoulder at his portrait. "Yeah well...I'm not just a pretty face" he joked, looking back at the protrait of purple roses before him. You hum "I've never seen you be creative before, it suits you"

"hmm...perhaps"

A series of beeps overtake the host club, the girls take out their phones. "So much for an afternoon of switching off" squeals and whispers overtake the room.

"Hey kyoya?" Kaoru appears next to the two of you. Turning his phone to show him whatever was on his screen.

'Ootori and l/n groups annouce engagement of their two heirs: Kyoya Ootori and Y/N L/N are set to be married in one of the most powerful global matches of the decade, more below'

"Well, I suppose the secrets out" you mutter, kyoya hums in agreement "Indeed"

You look around, soon realising that you were now the subject of the entire host club's attention. "Should we say something?"

"We may have to, yes" he holds out his hand "Are you ready?"

You place yours in his "As i'll ever be"

Next time on patience 'The host club declares dissolution!'

Tag list (reply to be added): @skottch @cgmajor @rebirthbunbun @bbybubbles @blueberry19000 @katgirl05 @smellslikelovinglies @veras-fanfic-reblogs @sadprimrose @mirtalikesdr @sleeplesssskeleton @ritzes28 @crackpeole @rory-cakes @renjunniex @II-kita-san-II @angelicwillows @missbrebre1012 @sleep-7372 @strawberrbitch @reticent-writer @eternal-dokja @meme848 @mistyhydrangeagarden @nanaloverz @hyuninslutbbgirl @rebel-author-chick @voyager1fan @bubbabobabubbles @haowonbins @justtryingtosurvive02

[sinister-sincerely]

A Tipsy Tussle

Inspired by @wyervan and their Slasher AU | This story is about a particularly good month in the green for the arcade and a very rare celebration hosted by both Sun and Moon with the Reader

This particular story was inspired by this Asked answered by Wyervan

Rated T for Suggestive Themes | Alcohol mentions

Word count: 2.8K words

It wasn't just a good month—it was a great month.

Sun had checked the numbers more times than you cared to count, his lanky frame hunched over his small computer monitor, fingers tapping excitedly against the desk. Each time, the results were the same—the arcade was finally in the green.

Your bosses were ecstatic. Moon, grinning ear to ear, looking almost impressed, while Sun boasted to anyone who would listen (mostly you) about his impeccable spreadsheet skills.

Normally, you declined their offers to hang out outside of work.

As much as you liked them, the line between professionalism and something else (something harder to define) blurred each time...

But this time, when Sun had looked at you, eyes shining with unfiltered pride, you couldn't bring yourself to say no.

You did at least put on a bit of a show (again, mostly for yourself), dragging your feet just enough to make it seem you weren't too eager to follow them into the van.

It was a half-assed attempt, considering the corners of your mouth twitched upward every time Moon wrestled with the radio, grumbling under his breath when the dial refused to cooperate.

Eventually, after a good open-palm smack from Moon to the dash, a Pop-station settled from the static. The moment the upbeat melody filled the van, Sun immediately launched into an off-key rendition of what he must have assumed the lyrics were (they weren't).

You tried. REALLY tried- but despite your best effort you laughed, Moon joining in shortly after.

Eventually, you reached their house, the van rolling to a stop with a soft lurch as Moon twisted the key and cut the engine.

The second the vehicle settled, he was already moving, shoving the driver's side door open and slipping out with an effortless bound. He barely spared a glance back as he waved you forward in a swift, impatient motion.

You hesitated, shifting slightly in your seat in the back, and your moment of confusion must have been obvious because Sun quickly chimed in, his voice light but tinged with a nervous chuckle.

"Oh! Ah—you're going to need to climb over to the front," he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. "The back doors only open from the outside—keep meaning to get those fixed~"

His laugh was breezy and casual, but something about how he said it, about how Moon hadn't even looked back, left a faint, nagging itch at the back of your mind.

Then again, the two of them were always a little weird, weren't they?

Shoving the thought aside, you braced yourself against the seats, awkwardly maneuvering over the center console.

Your knee knocked into the gear shift, and for a brief moment, you found yourself sprawled gracelessly across the driver's seat. A few choice words slipped past your lips as you scrambled upright, hands finding purchase on the cool, worn leather as you finally managed to ease yourself out properly.

By the time you clambered out, Moon was already halfway to the front door. Sun, waiting just outside, watched you with that ever-present, too-wide smile.

"-ll need some snacks." Moon cast a knowing glance toward Sun, who only hummed in response.

With a flick of his wrist, Moon tossed a set of keys into the air, which traveled briefly before disappearing into Sun's hand so quickly you nearly missed it.

"I'll get the place all setup! We'll need music, I'll have to turn on all the lights—oh! And drinks, we need drinks! Whiskey, right, Moonie~? We still have some left..." Sun chirped, excitement bubbling through his voice, his posture unnervingly upright, practically thrumming with energy. He slid past Moon toward the door with the effortless grace of two acrobats in perfect sync, moving on a rhythm only they seemed to understand.

Even as he disappeared inside, his voice still carried—rambling on, listing every little thing he planned to prepare.

Moon let out a low chuckle, shaking his head at Sun's boundless enthusiasm before turning his attention back to you.

Then, his gaze locked onto yours... intense, sharp, unblinking.

"Follow." Typical Moon, sparing with words, but his meaning was always crystal clear.

You shrugged, half-hearted, offering a small smile before jogging lightly to keep up with his pace as he started to walk.

"Soooo~" you drew out the word, trying to stay within earshot of his long-legged, lanky-assed strides, "what kinda food do you guys even have around these parts, anyway?"

Your voice came out light, relaxed, anything to ignore the way your nerves were getting to you.

"The good kind." Moon's reply was effortless, delivered in that matter-of-fact tone you'd come to expect from him.

"Better be," you teased, taking a few longer strides to finally match his pace. "I'm giving up prime television time to hang out with you two."

"Oh?" Moon glanced at you; finally, a smug smirk pulled at the edges of his sharp features.

Before you could react, his hand ghosted across your lower back, his touch deliberate but careful, nudging you toward the opposite side of him, further from the street.

You almost yelped, not expecting the shift, but Moon didn't so much as blink. His stride never broke, his posture fluid, nearly lazy, but there was something undeniably protective in how he maneuvered you.

A silent, reflexive correction.

You were grateful he couldn't clock the way you deepened several shades darker...

Moon delivered on his word, leading you to a small corner store tucked just out of view, its presence unassuming but undeniably inviting.

The moment you stepped inside, you were hit with the rich, indulgent scent of cooked meats and freshly baked sweet bread.

Moon strode ahead, moving with the same effortless confidence he carried everywhere, weaving past shelves lined with canned goods and crinkling snack bags without so much as a glance. He made a beeline for the back counter, where an older man stood expectantly, barely acknowledging the laminated menu above before placing an order: three servings of take-out chili fries. His voice was smooth, assured like he had ordered them a hundred times before.

You raised a brow. "Chili fries?"

There was a beat, a pause long enough for you to consider pressing the question...were they really the best option? But whatever doubt you had shriveled when Moon turned to you, his grin cutting through the dim lighting, sharp teeth flashing, eyes flicking toward you with something unmistakably mischievous.

That was answer enough.

When you arrived back at the house, it was immediately clear that Sun had been busy transforming the space into something festive, haphazardly thrown together but oddly endearing in its effort.

The living room was bathed in the soft, uneven glow of Christmas lights strung haphazardly along the walls. Thin wires snaked across the room, held up by strips of duct tape, a rushed but strangely thoughtful attempt at decoration.

It was a chaotic mix of sloppy and sincere, an obvious last-minute effort, yet… you couldn't help but feel that it was all for your benefit more than theirs.

The same pop radio station from the car blared through the space, the bass thrumming beneath your feet as you trailed after Moon. The music clashed with the dim, cozy atmosphere, an oddly fitting contrast for the two men who lived here.

You let your gaze wander, taking in their living space for the first time, piecing together small details and hints of their lives outside of work.

…Not surprising was the unmistakable circus motif woven into every inch of the space.

A framed poster hung proudly on one wall, its edges worn with age, the colors slightly faded yet still bold enough to announce a long-forgotten show.

Nearby, a shadow box displayed an array of meticulously arranged ticket stubs, some yellowed with time, others still crisp, as if recently added. The attention to detail was uncanny; each piece was placed with careful deliberation and was a shrine to some unknown past.

But then, your gaze landed on something odd.

A large section of wall, conspicuously bare amidst the surrounding nostalgia. The emptiness stood out, almost intentionally, as if something had once hung there but had been removed—scrubbed clean.

"Good, you're back!"

Sun's voice rang out cheerfully as he emerged from what you assumed was the kitchen, his ever-present enthusiasm practically radiating off of him.

He carried two drinks in his hands, both looking impossibly small in his grasp. One was a vibrant, syrupy red, nearly overflowing with maraschino cherries stacked high in a tall, narrow glass. The other was far simpler—a familiar whiskey glass, a rich amber hue swirling lazily around a melting ice cube.

He held both out toward you.

You hesitated only for a second before reaching forward, fingers curling around your choice.

The beginnings of fuzzy warmth brought on by alcohol settled in your chest, spreading slowly and steadily, dulling the usual professional barriers between you and them as you lounged on the couch.

Sun had been talking about everything and nothing in particular for what felt like an hour now.

The history of vending machines.

The psychology behind claw machines.

The exact number of lightbulbs that had to be rotated out in the arcade on any given day of the week.

It was a cascade of trivia, the kind of endless conversation that might have felt exhausting in any other setting, but here, with the soft sound of the radio still playing in the background and the lingering heat of the drink in your hand, it was... easy.

What surprised you most was that Moon hadn't completely tuned out.

He contributed here and there, an occasional scoff, a low, amused chuckle, a muttered correction when Sun got a bit too carried away with one of his more absurd claims.

It was subtle, but it was something and that made you feel strangely included in their rhythm.

Then, just as the last bout of laughter faded, the mood shifted... not abruptly, but enough for you to notice.

Sun's grin softened into something thoughtful as he leaned forward, bony elbows braced against his knees, his drink held loosely in long fingers.

"You know... I see it," he said, his voice lighter and less performative.

You blinked slowly, the words catching you off-guard. "See what?"

Sun rolled his glass between his fingers and palm, gaze still steady on you. "You. Trying."

He let that sit for a moment before continuing, his tone unusually sincere.

"At work. With us. You're not just coasting. You're there. Really putting in effort. And I just—" Sun chuckled, shaking his head before meeting your eyes again. "I just wanted to say… I appreciate it."

The sudden shift left you scrambling for a response, a smart-ass remark, a quip, anything...

"He's right."

Moon's voice cut through before you could even get a word out, his response flat but not unkind.

You turned toward him. He was slouched back against the couch, whiskey glass resting lazily against his thigh. He wasn't looking at you directly, but his focus was there, fixed on the floor like he was weighing his next words carefully.

"A lot of people don't even try." Moon exhaled through his nose, tilting his head slightly toward you to stare at you through the streak of white in his hair. "...or don't care. You do. That's rare."

A tightness crept up your throat before you could stop it; something unspoken lingered in the space between the three of you.

Sun seemed to pick up on how on the spot you felt because he suddenly laughed, breaking the tension.

"See, THAT is a huge compliment coming from Moonie."

Moon rolled his eyes, lifting his drink for a slow sip, but, notably, didn't argue.  

As the night stretched on, the mood eased back into something lighthearted, the earlier weight of conversation dissolving into familiar chaos.

You watched with quiet amusement as Sun, ever persistent, slowly inched his way closer to Moon.

It started subtly, easing off the couch to sit on the floor, then shuffling a little closer, then a little more. Eventually, he reached the edge of where Moon was seated, one hand absently tugging at the hem of Moon's sweater, testing his ability to drag the man down with sheer determination alone.

"You remember that, don't you, Moon?" Sun's voice had lifted into something almost theatrical, words slightly exaggerated as he latched onto Moon's sleeve. "That one loud lady—the one who just wouldn't accept we weren't open on Tuesdays?"

Moon hummed in vague acknowledgment, but Sun wasn't finished.

"She ASKED to speak to the OWNER, STAR!" Sun suddenly whipped his head toward you, eyes wide with a manic kind of disbelief, like he was reliving the moment in real time. "THE OWNER! WHO DOES THAT, STAR?!"

He tugged harder at Moon's sweater for emphasis, his whole body leaning into the effort.

Moon, who had been doing his best to stay upright, finally gave up with a resigned sigh, sliding down from the couch and onto the floor beside him.

"Sun. Loud," he muttered, rubbing at his temple, though the slight curl of his lips betrayed his amusement.

The drinks had settled nicely, warming your chest and loosening the last of your reservations. You were already on your third, the pleasant buzz making everything feel lighter, easier.

Sun, in particularly high spirits, was talking faster, laughing harder, clinging to Moon like he was the only thing anchoring him to the floor. Despite the noise, Moon didn't seem to mind. If anything, he was still smiling, something you weren't sure you'd ever get used to seeing.

At some point, the three of you had migrated next to each other onto the floor, backs resting against the couch, legs sprawled out in every direction.

Then, with a lazy groan, Sun finally peeled himself off of Moon, stretching his arms high above his head, his entire body lengthening like a cat shaking off sleep. His eyes glinted with mischief as he leaned, the expression one you recognized all too well.

"You know…" Sun mused, "I think I deserve a prize for all my kind words tonight."

You arched a brow, curious. "Oh yeah? Whatcha got in mind?"

Sun's grin stretched wider, but he didn't answer. Instead, he winked—slow and deliberate—before his hand, ever so casually, inched toward Moon's basket of chili fries.

It was a mistake.

The moment his fingertips so much as grazed a fry—

Moon was on him.

A blur of movement. A sharp yelp. A flurry of limbs as Moon tackled Sun down with zero hesitation, pinning him to the floor in seconds.

Chaos erupted, Sun shrieking in exaggerated betrayal. At the same time, Moon, ever the executioner, loomed over him, his weight pressing down just enough to prove a point.

"Thief," Moon accused, voice dripping with mock disdain.

They tumbled over each other in a blur of long limbs and chaotic laughter, Moon giggling between quick jabs while Sun sputtered out half-hearted protests, his words lost in breathless laughter.

It was a mess of flailing arms, tangled legs, and rapid shifts in speed as they wrestled across the floor, all sense of dignity long abandoned.

You did your best to stay clear of their warpath, quickly gathering the baskets of chili fries and tucking them safely out of range before one of them inevitably knocked them over.

But the longer you watched, the more your enjoyment got the better of you, a wide smile breaking across your face as their ridiculous antics played out in front of you.

Then... Sun reached out.

And in your drunken haze, without thinking, you reached back.

The moment your fingers brushed his, everything turned into a mess.

You barely had time to register what was happening before a yelp tore from you, the world tilting as you were suddenly yanked straight into the middle of their tussle.

Your body crashed against Sun's chest, his laughter ringing in your ears as he wrapped an arm around you, an impromptu human shield against Moon's relentless assault.

Moon's reaction was immediate... thankfully.

He stopped just inches from your face, his breath warm against your skin as he froze mid-strike, fingers still curled in preparation to grab Sun.

For a moment, everything was suspended, the heat of their bodies pressed close, the adrenaline still in the air, the way Moon's bright eyes locked onto yours, sharp and focused in a way that sent a shiver down your spine.

Then, the corner of his mouth twitched.

"You coward," Moon muttered, his voice dripping with amusement as he flicked his gaze toward Sun.

Sun, still clinging onto you, merely grinned wide enough to split his face.

"Strategic retreat," Sun corrected, unapologetic, his arms wrapping around you just a bit tighter. "Star's on my team now~" he sang...

[luveline]

maybe a reader and roan centered ficlet where roan gets to go to readers work for the day, be like her mini assistant because eddie couldn’t find anyone else to watch her while he had to do something?

ty for requesting ♡ fem reader

The phone rings at exactly 2PM as previously discussed. 

"Ro! Quick, come answer the phone for me, baby." 

Roan climbs out from under your desk where she's sorting paperclips into cuteness piles, the skirt of her best blue dress brushing your calves, her hair in a slicked back bun but coming undone as the day goes on. "What do I say?" she asks.

You pull her onto your lap. "You say, Hi, I'm Roan Munson with Cora Enterprise Limited, how may I help you?" 

She squares her features into a fierce, determined glare. Picking up your heavy grey phone, she presses her lips to the receiver and says, "Hi, I'm Roan! How can I help you, Cora?" 

Her eyebrows pinch together before smoothing, elation quick to take. "Daddy!" 

You can't hear what Eddie's saying, but you imagine it to be like, Hey, pumpkin, you sound so grown up! How's working for a mindless conglomerate as another cog in the machine working out for you? 

"It's fun." Roan tips her head back to look at you. When your gazes connect, she wiggles her thin brows. "She's fine, dad. We're having fun without you." 

Passionate garbled talk from the other side. Roan giggles and leans further into your chest, seemingly pleased when you wrap your arms around her stomach. 

"I learned how to do the printer, and the managing, but they wouldn't let me in the lab 'cos you picked shoes with cut outs. Yes, I know I asked for them, dad." Roan hands you the phone with an expression beyond her years. "He wants to talk to you." 

"Thanks, babe." You bring the phone to your ear. "Hello, Y/N speaking."

"Hello," Eddie says, his voice warm as usual, the sound like laying under the sun on a cloudless day. "Is she behaving?"

"She's being awesome. I told you, you don't have to worry about it. I'm practically alone in my office with Mel on maternity leave and Jessica trying to impress the Swedes." You stop Roan's little hand where it tries to open your top drawer, worried about the box cutter you use to unseal samples. "She's literally no fuss. I'd have her here every day if they let me." 

Roan gasps like this is the very best idea in the world and nods at you until her head looks like it's going to fall off. 

"They might have to. I can't believe it's day four of no water at the elementary. We're lucky you could take her, what are the parents who work jobs like me supposed to do?" he asks. 

"Maybe I can have them all here. Roan's a good assistant for a six year old. In fact, she's doing a better job than I was on my first day. Right, bubby?" you ask the head of curls in your lap. 

"Right!" Roan lifts her head to the receiver, her full row of top baby teeth white and shiny in the office lights. "I'm going to do the flying cabinet next!" 

"Filing," you correct. 

"Oh. That doesn't sound as fun." She wrinkles her nose. 

"Lunch first," you say. It's a good pacifier. Boring office tasks are usually easier after one of Eddie's sandwiches. 

"I'll leave you guys to it, then," Eddie says, muffled slightly by the roaring of an electric saw. "I'll try not to feel too left out over here." 

"If I were you I'd feel very left out," you say. 

"Nice. Love you, miss you, see you at five." 

You put the phone against Roan's pale ear. "Tell dad bye," you say. 

"Bye, daddy. I hope you have a nice lunch." 

Loving babble. Roan's smile gets bigger and bigger the longer Eddie talks. She stretches tall in your chair to put the phone down before twisting to wrap her arms around your shoulders, her nose cold where it presses into your throat. You bring a hand to the back of her head. 

"What's this for?" you ask, hugging her. 

"Dad said to give you one. And to say you didn't say I love you back, so, um, you're in the bad books." 

"Not the bad books," you murmur. 

"Don't worry. I get out of them all the time." 

—

more eddie, roan and reader

[quintessenceofdust88]

How about a rewrite of their 6month milestone so it’s not… that mess that it was 👀🫶 AND CONGRATS

THANK YOU DARLING AND I'M SORRY IT TOOK ME THIS LONG!!

I hope you enjoy this, sweetheart, I tried to make it fluffy and flirty. When you said rewrite I wasn't sure if you meant a slight change on the Micelli's scene or a total rewrite of how they could celebrate their anniversary, and decided to go with the second option. ❤️

--

Buck thinks about taking Tommy to Micelli's for their sixth month anniversary, but decides against it. Sure, the food is good, but after their first date, he's got a bad impression, as if the place could be bad luck or something.

He decides instead to do something stupid, and romantic, and straight out of one of Tommy's romantic comedies.

"So let me get this straight" Tommy says as they're having breakfast in Buck's loft, and there's a joke there about getting things straight that Buck, with his mouth full of granola, loses the chance to make. "We're taking my truck, but I'm still not allowed to know where we're going?"

"Yup" Buck agrees cheekily, popping the 'p' as he gets up to wash his bowl, pressing a kiss to Tommy's cheek on his way to the sink. "And you're letting me drive"

"Oh, am I?" He challenges, raising an eyebrow, and Buck doesn't begrudge him the surprise; ever since they got together, he just got used to letting Tommy drive them places. But this time he wants to be the one pampering his boyfriend.

"Yeah. Please?" He asks, using his puppy eyes to full effect, and of course it works; it always works on Tommy.

"Fine, you're lucky you're so cute" Tommy says with a put-upon sigh, but is betrayed by his own besotted smile. "So I'll pick you up and hand you the wheel around..."

"Five. Does that work for you?" He asks, and Tommy easily agrees.

At five o'clock sharp, Tommy's back to the loft, and Buck eagerly loads the cargo bed with the bags he prepared (he slaps Tommy's hand when he tries to peek), and then drives Tommy's pick-up for the first time (it's a stick shift, but he had experience with that on his first Jeep, so it's not an issue). Tommy, to his credit, doesn't make a single comment about Buck's driving, but as he takes them further and further away from the city, he frowns at him.

"Evan, are you kidnapping me? Should I be texting Eddie my last known whereabouts before I lose signal?"

"Nah," Buck answers easily. "And Eddie would be on my side anyway, as long as I let you out of captivity to practice Muay Thai every once in a while"

Tommy laughs at that, and Buck feels as giddy as he always does when he manages to make his boyfriend laugh.

"Seriously, though, where are we going?" He asks curiously, just as Buck takes a turn and stops the truck in the middle of a forest area, where they're surrounded by nothing but trees.

"We, my darling" Buck says, coming down from the car and opening Tommy's door for him (Tommy does that for him all the time, and it feels so galant to return the gesture) "are going stargazing. You're always up in the skies, but today I'm giving you the chance to actually look at them. I brought a blanket, a bottle of wine, all the works"

"Evan..." Tommy says, and Buck knows by his voice that he's touched, that he's emotional.

Tommy is not very good at showing emotions to him; to anyone, really, but Buck is trying his best to work through that, because he sees a future there, and a future can only if they're allowed to be vulnerable with each other.

"Happy anniversary, babe" He tells Tommy, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips, and his boyfriend deepens it, his hands wrapping around Buck's waist.

"Happy anniversary, sweetheart" Tommy says, and then looks down bashfully. "Wow, my present feels underwhelming now"

"You got me a present?!" Buck smiles before he can help himself, a warm feeling settling on his heart.

"Of course I did, Evan" Tommy says like it's a given, but it isn't to Buck.

No one's ever gotten him an anniversary present before. And he's never gotten the wish to do something like what he was doing for Tommy right now. He wonders if that's what love feels like. He wonders if it's the right moment to say it.

Either way, he's more than ready for something. And that something has to be with Tommy.

[definitelynotafurinasimp]

Then, Can You make a fluff oneshot between Beidou and Make Reader with kuudere Personality and Cryo vision?

Beidou with a cold reader

characters: Beidou x gn!reader

warnings: none, just fluff

a/n: I haven't written for Beidou in… a while. So if I got some aspects of her character wrong I’m really sorry! If it shouldn't be to your liking, tell me and I'll try again once I have the time/motivation!

Anyway, hope you enjoy!

Beidou

While you had your moments, your general attitude matched your vision to a tee. All in all, it was rare to see you wearing anything but a pokerface on your face, no matter if at a celebratory meal with the rest of the crew or while fighting monsters and storms on the sea, you remained unfazed, always looking disinterested and yet never refusing to participate in anything Beidou suggested.

Even if some outside observers might have found it difficult to imagine any reasons for two personalities as clashing as yours and your captain’s to get along as well as you did, Beidou herself could think of at least a dozen. From a professional standpoint having a number two as collected as you helped to balance out her… more enthusiastic personality. But there were also more than enough reasons for the two of you to get along well in private. Including but not limited to:

No matter how uninterested you looked, you were still a great listener, letting Beidou talk your ear off whether she was sober or not while somehow managing to remember more from your one-sided conversations than she did herself. You were good at making sure she didn’t overdo it during her more reckless moments and most importantly: the way you managed to tell any story from your adventures in a completely deadpan and unimpressed manner proved some of the most unexpected comedic entertainment either she or the rest of the crew could ask for.

“Come onnnnn, pleaseeeee", your drunk Crewmate begged you, slurring while holding on to your arm as if his life depended on it, only for you to briefly close your eyes in slight annoyance, grabbing your vision with your free hand before pressing it against his until the cold became too much for him to bear and he was forced to pull away.

“You were there as well. Tell them the story yourself”, you refuted, only to almost immediately make out the sound of several other of your drunk companions to start whining to you.

“I’m too drunk”, he retorted, and while he was obviously telling the truth, his argument was still far from convincing you in the slightest.

Just as you were about to tell him he should have told the story before drinking then however, a sudden weight on your shoulder caused your attention to shift towards it, only to be greeted with the sight of Beidou standing next to you, one hand on your shoulder and the other on her hip, the blush on her cheeks making it obvious she herself wasn’t sober in the slightest. And yet she was still a thousand times better off than any of the others.

“That and you’re just the best at telling stories”, she added with a smile. 

If it was anyone else, you would have brushed off the compliment as flattery and nothing else before quickly turning them down, and yet whenever it was Beidou that asked you, you found yourself considering it.

You had never really understood why they always wanted you to be the one to relay their adventures. When you had asked her however, she told you that while everyone else tried to embellish their stories and make it sound even more impressive than it already was, the way you did the exact opposite and made even the most epic fight sound like it was just another tuesday was more entertaining than anything the others had to offer. And while you still found it difficult to understand just why exactly that was the case, you had the sneaking suspicion you wouldn’t be able to get a more satisfying answer no matter who you asked.

“Alright”, came your brief answer, only for everyone to huddle up in earshot almost immediately, and yet all your mind paid attention to was the small cheer coming out of Beidou’s mouth as she removed her hand from your shoulder, placed it on your head, and ruffled your hair for a moment before sitting down next to you.

Thankfully everyone was too drunk to remember the small smile that broke across your face.

[gonzo-rella]

Headcanons: Being Married To Old Man Ray Stantz

MASTERLIST | AO3 | KO-FI

Relationship(s): old man!Ray Stantz x gn!also old!reader (romantic)

Warnings: Possibly inaccurate science words, because I'm a simpleton. (Let me know if I need to add any)

(A/N: Here's my first Ghostbusters thing! I've got a few other Ghostbusters fics in the works, mostly Ray-based reader-inserts because I'm in love with him, but I've also got a Phoebe-centric character study in the works that's based on part of her storyline in Frozen Empire. By the way, I loved Frozen Empire! I've already seen it three times, and it's such a joy. I'll try to catch it a couple more times at least before it leaves cinemas. Anyway, I haven't included any explicit spoilers for Frozen Empire in this, so you're safe to read this if you haven't seen it yet. I'd love to write more old man Ray Stantz fics, especially something involving Phoebe. I'm really excited to write for Ghostbusters, so feel free to send in requests! I've only seen the movies, but I plan on watching the Real Ghostbusters at some point soon. Also, even though I took my mum to see Frozen Empire the other day, I still don't have anyone to talk to about this movie, so please feel free to talk to me about it!)

It’s evident that, even after all of these years, Ray is still madly in love with you.

The adoration with which he looks at you is clear as day.

Venkman has always loved to tease you both about how sickly sweet your relationship is.

He will make fake gagging when either of you are affectionate to one another when he’s around.

(He won’t admit it, but he actually finds your relationship to be kind of cute)

It’s not like either of you are overly lovey-dovey, especially now.

Ray’s naturally a very passionate and expressive guy, but he’s rarely mushy.

Still, you show one another how much you care.

I have this idea that your silent way of saying ‘I love you’ to each other is holding the other’s hand, stroking their knuckles with your thumb and smiling at them.

It just seems so cute to have this thing that you’ve been doing for your whole relationship.

Ray knows you like the back of his hand, and you know him just the same.

It’s almost scary how well you know one another.

I can imagine that there’s been a time that someone’s asked one of you a question, and the other has been able to answer it with ease.

I love the idea of Ray being with someone who’s not a scientific mind like himself.

So, if you’re not as knowledgeable about the supernatural as Ray, you’ll still have picked up on plenty of information against your will, and Ray will always be impressed with and proud of you when you manage to regurgitate or understand his ‘science-y word salad’ (as you have referred to it).

He will also find it very attractive when you talk supernatural or science to him, but he tries not to make it obvious.

His eyes still light up like he’s a kid on Christmas when he explains supernatural stuff to you or tells you about a new psychically charged item he’s bought, and you find it so endearing.

Also, I can imagine him practically forcing you to listen to Podcast’s podcast when he discovers it, and you both end up getting really into it.

As devoted as he still is to his work and his supernatural endeavours, spending time with you is his greatest priority.

He might miss being an active Ghostbuster, but the silver lining of it is that he gets more time with you than he ever used to.

Even if you both used to be Ghostbusters, it’s nice to spend time together that doesn’t involve being covered in ghost slime and shouting over nuclear accelerators.

If you’ve not got anything else to do, I think it’d be sweet if you kept him company in his store.

Phoebe and Trevor are your honorary grandkids and you and Ray are beyond proud of them, especially Phoebe, who you’re closest to of the two of them.

Phoebe will always remind the both of you of Egon, so whenever she does something particularly Egon-like, you will exchange a knowing glance, and when she’s gone you’ll end up reminiscing about your old friend.

If Phoebe or the other Spenglers ever want to hear about Egon, you’re both more than happy to talk to them about him.

Even in his golden years, Ray is still the same sweet, passionate, excitable man you married all those years ago.

Sure, the regular excitement that came with Ghostbusting is long behind you both, but you both cherish this quieter time together just as much.

[bokettochild]

Since he grew up at the opera house is legend gonna eventually take it over when time and lullabye retire?

I

That's the rumor at least.

It's less because he was raised there and more that he was raised to it, if that makes sense. Lullaby and Time agreed to allow Twilight to bring his kid around, but they never sat down and agreed that said kid would inherit everything.

It was sort of more an accident. Time ended up teaching Legend about music and instruments, Fi taught him to dance (the rest had no clue, he just watered into her practice room and got so excited about watching her that she decided to show him how and it evolved), their old props master would often show him how things worked while Twilight was doing heavy lifting and stuff- and he fell naturally into his role after that.

Lullaby never actually started teaching him anything until he was school-aged, at which point she was the one to help him learn to act, how to handle himself on stage, around guest stars, and even how to do some of her less stage-centric work (I.e. script-writing, accounting, the management and business side of things, ect.). All of this was with the mind of "I need to get my work done and this kid is here so I'll just 'teach' him how as an excuse to work while I'm in charge of him" and evolved into "how can I possibly do ____ without this kid here?"

That's not to say that Lullaby hasn't considered going it all to him, and she's certainly been much more intentional with teaching Legend things after he got back from overseas, but earlier on, everyone was 100% convinced that he was going to be the next big star to come out of Crown City. Him returning from his travels as a far more subdued and closed off teenager changed that of course, and because he spends less time on stage and performing than he used to, and much of the cast and crew have changed since he was small, the common consensus has since changed as well.

Most of the crew are convinced Legend will one day inherit the House. Lullaby has no children, and there's no denying that Time has taken especial time to help train him as well, so it's the natural answer.

Time, well, he's still of the impression that Legend might grow up and choose something else, and he's still waiting to hear the kid say what he wants to be now that he's old enough to choose. As for Lullaby herself, she's probably doing the same; if he bounces back and seeks stardom, she doesn't want to hold him back with duties to the House, but if he doesn't elect to do anything beyond what he does now, she's probably going to sit him down and talk about if he would like to one day maintain the opera once she retires.

As for Legend himself, he is entirely unawares of all of this. He knows he's got his fingers in every pie the opera has, and he knows that his absence would and does result in mayhem, but he doesn't realize the extent to which he's been groomed for the role, and is somewhat under the impression that anyone who's been doing it as long as he has knows the same things.

This is actually something that the theoretical main story line is supposed to have.

After Hyrule joins the House, and while he's getting to know the cast/crew, I intend for him to have a moment where Legend is called off from training him to deal with some matter or another,

this leads to Hyrule commenting about how much it looks like he still has to learn.

This, in turn, would prompt one of the other staff to pause their work and assure that, no, he doesn't need to learn that stuff. That's just Legend; he knows/does everything.

Hyrule, being fresh out of a toxic work environment and entirely aware of that fact, immediately assumes that, oh crap, his nice new boss is being taken advantage of by his co-workers! Only for the rest to tell him that Legend may or may not be being brought up to one day run the Opera, and while no one has proof, the fact remains that should Lullaby or Time be absent, Legend does end up being the one running the literal show sometimes, because he's got the know-how and skills to do so.

No clue what would happen as a result, but in short; yeah, this is definitely something the opera gossip mill chatters about whenever Lul, Time and Ledge aren't around.

[lurking-latinist]

How to Suck Less at Summaries

Probably almost anyone who's ever posted a fic to ao3 or a platform with a similar interface has been hit by that moment of panic, breaking in on the euphoria of having finished and polished a fic--"what do I put for the summary?!"

So much so, that "I suck at summaries" in the summary box has become something of a cliche. It's very understandable! You've already put all that work into writing the fic itself, and now you have to write ANOTHER thing with its own set of conventions and expectations? No way!

And I want to start by saying that that's absolutely fine. Fic writing is your hobby, your creative endeavor; you're not obligated to do anything in it that you don't want to. You can leave the summary box completely blank--ao3 will let you--and there's no reason you shouldn't, if that's what you want to do! If you're happy with your summaries, please don't change them. There's no wrong way to do summaries. This is your invitation to ignore the entire rest of this post!

However. My impression is that an awful lot of people aren't happy with their summaries. They would like to have summaries that catch a reader's attention, that fit common patterns, or that give a good representation of the fic; they're just not sure how to accomplish that, or what readers might be expecting. And the good news is that writing various styles of summaries, like other kinds of writing, is a skill you can improve--and that there are some tips and tricks that can help you write the kinds of summaries you may want to write more quickly.

How do I know? Well, on top of having read I don't know how many fics, I've published 200 of my own, with all different kinds of summaries. (In fact, writing this post is my treat to myself to celebrate publishing 200 fics!) So I have a lot of trial and error experience to draw on. I'll be using my own summaries as examples (plus some hypothetical examples), because I don't want to be nitpicking anyone else's!

I'm going to throw in a cut now because this is gonna get long.

What do you want to accomplish with your summary?

That's the first question you might want to ask yourself. And the answer really is up to you! The name "summary" suggests it's supposed to be a sort of short version of your story. That's one option. But summaries are often used to accomplish various other things, too: some of my favorite summaries don't really tell you anything about the plot of the fic, but instead give you a glimpse of the writer's style or lure you in with a question. It can also fill organizational purposes like commemorating the reason the fic was written (although author notes can also be effective for things like this).

Most fundamentally, I tend to think of the summary box as a place to manage your readers' expectations. I want them to have some sense of what the fic they're about to read might be like, and I want to present that in a way that highlights why it might be appealing to them. Of course, what I write won't be appealing to every reader--and an effective summary, plus accurate tags and ratings of course, allows a reader who won't enjoy what I have to offer to quickly keep scrolling and find something that fits their tastes better. But the way I think of them, summaries are really mainly for readers who will enjoy my fic if they decide to open it. A summary for a fic is like a pretty package for a gift: the gift is great in itself, and the nice gift-wrap makes it more eye-catching and more fun to open!

Sidebar: This "managing expectations" thing is, I think, the reason why authors sometimes add notes in the summary like "I'm sorry if this sucks" or "this is my first fic, it's probably terrible." I completely understand where this comes from--you don't want to make your readers expect some kind of genius literature and then only have something to give them that you yourself are still insecure about! But I really do think they're generally counterproductive. On the one hand, that kind of negative self-talk will tend to undermine your own confidence and make you more insecure about your writing, not less; on the other hand, they can subconsciously prime your readers to notice weaknesses and issues that they might otherwise not even have paid attention to! That doesn't mean you have to pretend you think your writing is perfect; very few of us do think what we post on fic archives is perfect. There's nothing wrong, even, with a note like "this is my first fic" or "this one is a bit experimental, I'm not sure how I feel about it" or "this wasn't written in my first language" or even "this is an old fic and I don't think it represents my best work anymore", although I tend to put that kind of commentary on craft in the author's notes rather than the summary, but that's just me; there's no rule. As an example, when I recently published my first fic in the Hornblower fandom, which has a historical setting I wasn't previously very familiar with, I thanked my beta for helping me avoid "historical howlers" and added "any remaining are my own responsibility." That made me feel better about potential mistakes in research by showing that I was aware I might have made some. I put this in an author's note at the end of the story. But, for the sake of you as a writer as well as me as a reader, I'm asking you--please don't start out our reader/writer relationship by telling me it's terrible! Give yourself a chance to shine. Even if there's a lot you're insecure about in your fic, there's something you love--maybe it's the premise, the ship, even one particular line--that makes you want to share it with the world. Use the summary to highlight that. As your reader, that's what I want to know about!

Anyway, now that you've decided what you want your summary to accomplish, there are a couple of very easy ways to fill the summary box that you might want to consider--if they make sense for your fic.

Just quote the prompt

When I write prompt-fic, often very short, I frequently just quote the prompt itself as the summary. An example would be my 3 Sentence Ficathon fic archived on ao3. Since the challenge in this event is to write a complete fic in only three sentences, a summary wouldn't be much shorter than the fic itself! So I just do summaries like

For reeby10's prompt: "Doctor Who, Clara/Twelve, unforgettable."

(Gaps)

This can work outside of prompt memes, too. If you're doing a monthly challenge, for instance, something like

Flufftember day 21, 'breakfast in bed'

might tell your readers all they need to know to be interested in your story and know what to expect.

Set the context

For some fic, the most important thing you want your readers to know going in is something about the fic's context. For instance, with drabbles I sometimes use the summary as a place to sneak in information about setting/what's supposed to be happening that I didn't have room for in the drabble itself. For Susan's Twist, a 100-word drabble, I set the scene in the summary:

Susan is grooving to the latest chart-topper of 1963. But for some reason, the song makes her grandfather uncomfortable.

which meant I didn't have to use any of my 100 words explaining "Susan was listening to the radio, when..." Since Susan's Twist was inspired by someone else's Tumblr post, I could also just have referenced that post in the summary. But in this case, I chose to phrase the premise in my own words in the summary, and cite the Tumblr post in the author's notes (I also tagged the OP when I shared the fic on Tumblr).

Flower Children is an example of a drabble with a not particularly effective summary where I could have used this strategy quite effectively. The summary is just

Neither of them wants to fight.

which is all right, but which doesn't do much to set up the (admittedly cracky) Eighth Doctor/Dalek Oswin pairing that motivates the fic. But then, I've always felt like I didn't have quite as much of an idea as I'd like about what the context for this fic is supposed to be. Maybe I'll write more about them sometime.

Setting the context can also be useful for summaries of AUs. Very often, what draws people into AUs is the AU concept itself.

For instance, the premise of my story te quaerens, Ariadna is that the events of the audio Zagreus go differently and the Doctor remains possessed by/transformed into Zagreus. So that's what I said in the summary:

The Doctor is still Zagreus, but he and Charley find ways to keep going.

In this case, the summary is accomplishing more than one thing; it explains the concept, but it also indicates a bit of the story's tone--it's fairly optimistic given its premise, and it's more about how their relationship evolves than any particular plotty event.

With setting change AUs--especially in familiar AU settings, like a coffeeshop, high school, or fantasy monarchy--often what readers will most want to know is what roles the characters are filling; in other words, how the translation from canon to AU has been made. For instance, my story Warmth is already tagged as a coffeeshop AU with the Fifth Doctor, Nyssa, Tegan, and Adric, so the summary indicates that it's told from the perspective of Tegan as a new employee:

Unexpectedly stranded in London and looking for work, Tegan finds a place where she just might fit in.

If she had been a longtime employee or a customer, that would have changed the story's dynamics, and I would have wanted the summary to reflect that instead. I could have also added that the Doctor is the shop's manager and Nyssa and Adric are the existing employees, but I decided to let the story itself reveal that in this case.

With someone's planted a bath bomb in the matrix, which is a retail AU inspired by an incorrect quotes tumblr post, I just stuck the whole tumblr post in the summary box:

Romana: When you work at lush and a customer comes in and bites the soap because they think it’s cheese… this happens way more frequently than you think. Leela: If you stopped literally presenting soap as deli food this wouldn't happen. Narvin: Who goes into a bath store and thinks something covered in glitter is cheese? Brax: Who goes to the store and just takes a bite from the cheese? ~incorrectgallifreyquotes.tumblr.com

I might do that a bit differently now--maybe more the way I handled Susan's Twist--maybe something like this in the summary:

An uptight employee and a too-suave customer are making Romana's job managing a bath store way too stressful. Thank goodness--probably--that her best friend works for mall security.

And then I'd have put the tumblr post that inspired it in author's notes.

Thing is, though, that reflects my taste and what I think is effective now, but it doesn't mean I did it wrong the first time. People read and enjoyed the story, and it was fine!

Also I just showed this post to Moki and she said she thinks the first one's more intriguing. So that just goes to show, it's really a matter of taste.

This strategy is also useful for missing scenes and things like that. Something as simple as

While waiting for Z to return from the rendezvous, X and Y have a conversation.

can draw in readers very effectively, especially if X and Y's conversation was kind of obviously a gap in the story that they might already be curious about.

Use a quote

A surprisingly effective and straightforward way to create a summary is just to use a quote from the fic. I've seen tons of great summaries like this that hook me in immediately. I struggle with using it myself, because I want the line I quote to be powerful/impactful/intriguing and give some sense of what the plot is like and make sense out of context, and I don't often seem to be able to find lines like that in my own work. But I did for The Moon by Night:

It could not have been more than a day that we clung to the hull of that station full of troopers.

Since this is a space AU for a historical fiction novel, this line gives some sense of how the events of the story have been translated into space, and also shows the voice I'm writing in (I tried to follow the style of the original, which is first-person, which is unusual for me). If you can find a line like that in your work, it can be a great summary. You can even just put the first couple of lines of the fic, especially if you've already worked to make them an effective hook!

You can also use a quote from another source. Was there a line or moment from canon that inspired the fic? A poem or song that fits its mood? You can use the summary as a sort of epigraph. (I often use author's notes for this as well.) If your readers vibe with the quote that inspired the story, they're likely to vibe with the story as well.

I did something like this with Absent thee from felicity awhile. The title is a quote from Shakespeare's Hamlet, and all I put in the summary box was another quote from a couple of lines later:

…to tell my story.

This is so short and contextless, though, that I'm not sure how effective it was. It maybe only works if you recognize the specific Hamlet scene that it's taken from and have thought about that scene in the context of a specific episode of Hornblower. (I promise that, if you do, it's heartbreakingly ironic!) This could have been a good opportunity for me to do a double summary (see below), especially since the story is epistolary and I could've established its context. Although I did kind of like revealing who was reading the letter and when slowly over the course of the story.

Okay, but I do want to explain the plot

Right, so we've established that effective summaries don't have to be in that "back of the book blurb" format. But sometimes you want them to be. Sometimes the thing you're most excited about is the story's plot or events, and you want to communicate that to the reader. But you already wrote the story in order to communicate the plot to the reader; how do you condense it into a sentence or two? Here are some tips that may help.

Are you using familiar tropes? If so, just mentioning them will likely tell your reader not only what the plot is, but that (if they like that trope) they're likely to enjoy it. For instance:

A and B are trapped in a snow cave/ice planet/walk-in freezer and must huddle for warmth.

That particular one will also explain a bit about the setting, if you want.

Relationship status/development is also something that many readers want to know, whether it's a romantic or a gen relationship (e.g. characters becoming friends or realizing they see each other as family). For instance, if A and B admit their romantic feelings for the first time in that huddling for warmth story, you might add:

They get a lot closer than either of them expects...

I rather like ellipses at the end of a summary; I think they imply, sort of, "read the fic to find out the rest." I sometimes use them to soften a summary that feels a bit abrupt. I feel like this might be just me, though? So if you don't like ellipses, nothing wrong with ending that same summary with a period.

If you have a fic where the entire content is some emotional development between characters, the entire summary can easily be that too!

I don't really write smut so I don't have good advice for summarizing it, but I get the feeling this might be a relevant strategy for it?

What changes in the story? This could be a change in characters' attitudes towards each other, in the information they have, in their physical situation, or anything else. A story doesn't have to be about one single major change, but there's almost always at least one. (Or a change fails to happen, but in an interesting way: "five times Lois Lane didn't realize Clark was Superman" would be a perfectly intriguing summary!)

What demands are made of the characters? Many stories involve a character overcoming some kind of challenge or meeting some kind of test. A summary can indicate what that challenge is--and you don't have to indicate whether or how the characters meet it! This can contribute to a feeling of suspense, so that the reader feels they need to read the story to find out how the characters react. For instance, I summarized my story Journey as:

The Doctor and Ace need to stop a dimensional leakage to put a life-sucking entity back where it belongs. But to do so, they'll each need to protect the other in their own way.

What are their own ways? Do they succeed? The reader can probably guess that they do--but how? Their attention is caught, and they'll have to read to find out!

Some notes on format and style

Summary style is as personal as the rest of your writing style, so this is only intended as a mention of a couple of trends I've noticed.

Sometimes summaries are 'in-universe'--i.e. they describe the characters and what they do, without reference to the existence of the fic itself as a textual entity--and sometimes, like the "five times" example I gave above, they refer to the fic's format, characteristics, relationship to canon, etc. in direct terms. (For instance, the example I gave for a missing scene was 'in-universe,' but I could just as well have said "While waiting for Z to return during Episode 3..."). Either of these approaches are fine, although I personally tend to incline more towards the in-universe style unless I have a particular reason to use the other, such as in Differences of Opinion, which took a lot of metatextual explaining:

When I read enough easily-crossed-over stories, such as for instance the Age of Sail books that I have been reading lately and also spaceship stories inspired thereby, what inevitably happens is I end up with a nebulous meta crossover setting where they can all hang out outside of their respective canons. Here's one conversation from that setting.

I keep wondering if something more terse might have been more effective, and I could have put all that in the author's notes. But I really think that for anyone who would enjoy this fic, the metatextual complication is a big part of the appeal. So I put it in the summary.

It's pretty standard to write in-universe-style summaries in the present tense, even if the fic is in the past tense. "The characters do this and that," not "the characters did this and that." You don't have to, but it's what your reader is most likely to be expecting.

It seems to be quite common to have a double summary: one that maybe reflects the style and tone of the fic, and another, more matter-of-fact one that explains the plot. They're frequently joined by "or." I don't typically use it--maybe because I rarely have the problem of having too much summary--but if you do, this could be a great solution.

Spellcheck and proofread your summary extra. Whatever strategies you normally use to make sure the words in your story are the words you actually meant to write, it's a good idea to turn those strategies on the summary with special intensity. After all, this is your first impression on your reader, so you probably want to look as polished as possible!

These are just a few things I've noticed that I tend to think about when staring at that blinking cursor in the summary box. I hope they may help you, too, to feel like you have something to say in that moment!