#it’s as close as i’m gonna get to club ivan let me have this

[ivanttakethis]

Same color scheme, same lighting, same tears/sweat, same club vibe…

Close enough, welcome back Deep Faker (偽顏) music video 💕

[raijin-tribe]

Since I’ve already rambled a little bit about the 100YQ today, I also wanted to share this longer rant that’s been sitting in my drafts for a while.

⚠️ 100 Years Quest - Ch. 123 Spoilers ⚠️

One of the biggest annoyances I’ve had with Fairy Tail’s sequel is the mis-characterization of the Raijinshuu. Don’t get me wrong, I hated their fight against Gray, but I mostly expected that… as sad as it is.

Aside from that, it’s this short sequence with Laxus from Ch. 123 that is truly disappointing to me unlike any other.

Like, I’m sorry, but are these really the only reactions we’re gonna get…?

After returning to the guild, Laxus has a moment where he opens up and admits that he took out his own dragon slayer lacrima, and the Raijinshuu just… boast about him? (Aside from Ever, who seems more shocked at his ‘true power’ than the lacrima being removed.)

You’d think they would initially show more shock/concern and ask Laxus questions about what happened and if he's really okay. Let Freed scold him for being reckless, at least. Not just go 'That's our Laxus!!' and move on. I honestly feel like this is something they would all take more seriously.

It's also annoying how we don’t get to see much reaction out of Makarov either. Remember that this is the same lacrima that Ivan wanted to steal after the BoFT, not caring if it would kill his son or not. But everyone seems to keep looking over the fact that Laxus, again, took out the lacrima that he's had since he was a kid! Just ripped it out of his chest— with his bare hands, no less!

I’m just gonna assume Laxus will tell them everything off-panel, but still… I hate when the Raijinshuu are treated like a 'blindly devoted fan club' rather than his best friends, a strong team, or even as individual characters. Even in that bullshit fight against Gray, he calls them ‘Worshippers of Laxus.’ (100YQ Ch. 30) And it’s stuff like that which I feel undermines how close they really are to him.

For the record, I don’t have an issue with the Raijinshuu fawning over Laxus— that’s always been a part of their characters and has led to some great moments between them. I have an issue when it’s the only thing they do.

Compared to other characters, especially those who were a part of the Tenrou team, it feels as though the Raijinshuu are the most forgotten about. They have no backstory, they barely get any new magic or development, and they were left out of the latest Fairy Tail games altogether!

When was the last time they had a good fight that does their magic justice? Hell, when was the last time their eye magic actually worked in their favor?

I never expected them to have much of a role in the 100YQ, and I still don't, but still, it's... really frustrating.

Sorry if this was long, but I’ve wanted to share my thoughts on this for a while.

I try not to post about the 100YQ too much because it’s mostly criticisms and frustrated rants. I want this blog to be a positive place to appreciate the Raijinshuu as characters instead of complaining about how they could be written better, but I also think it’s good to have discussions and express criticism from time to time as well. It’s just not something I’ll be doing too often.

If you made it this far, thank you so much for reading!!! I really do appreciate it!!! 💕

[write-orflight]

The Fraction of Innocence.

**Gif Not Mine**

Anon Requested: 10, 16, and 25 for the smutty prompts thing!!!

10: “were you just touching yourself?” ‘yeah, what are you donna do about it?’

16: “the only way you are gonna get off is on my thigh.”

25: “she may be all lollipops and candy bars, but I bet behind closed doors she’s hand cuffs and gags.”

Pairings: SpencerXReader

Rating: M, (This is very explicit.)

Words: 4K

Warnings: NSFW!!! 18+ (Dom!Spencer, BDSM overtones, sexual conduct, fingering, bondage, etc.)

Request: OPEN/CLOSED

Summary: Spencer thinks Y/N is an innocent, naive girl until a case reveals her extracurricular activities. 

Spencer had been back from jail for 2 months when he first met her. 

At first he didn’t think anything of her, other than the faint smell of vanilla and daisy as she walked past him in the bullpen and the bright smile that seemed to take up half her face. She was carrying files close to her chest like a schoolgirl late to class and the skirt of her white dress bellowed softly behind her as she made her way to Emily’s office.  

“Who is that?” He had asked. 

Luke looked up to where Spencer’s gaze was. “Oh, that’s Y/N, she's a tech analyst helping Penelope out right now. She’s sweet, you’ll like her.”  

It doesn’t take Spencer long after that to decide he, in fact, does not like you. There was nothing wrong with you. Luke was right, you were sweet, almost sickeningly so. It was like you had no concept of reality. You lived in this world of all sunshine and good things despite the horror that crossed your screen daily. And while Penelope was the same, she at the very least knew how bad the world could be and chose to see the good in it. You didn’t, it was like you’d never had a single bad thing happen to you. And Spencer, who had been dealt the bad hand so many times in life hated that. 

It also didn’t help that you were gorgeous too. You looked like an artist sculpted you himself to make the perfect woman. Real People weren’t supposed to look like that. Real people were supposed to have flaws and blisters. Real people were supposed to look tired so early in the morning not fully awake and smiling while handing everyone in the office a coffee. He didn’t understand how you could be real.   

“Here you go, Spencer. Americano lots of sugar.” You said, placing the coffee on his desk. 

“Thank you.” He mumbles. 

“We have a case, by the way.” You giggle, going off to hand Luke his coffee before walking away to the conference room. Spencer was barely able to keep his eye roll at bay. 

Luke sees that and laughs, clapping Spencer on the back. “Come on, kid. Play nice.” 

“She’s giggling about a murder case.” Spencer grumbles before following him into the conference room. 

“3 women have been murdered in Queens. Judging by the scars, they were all bound and strangled before finally being dumped in an alley.” Garcia says, as she goes through the slides, showing the crime scenes. “Police need our help finding the connection between these three women because right now, it looks like there is none.” 

“I’d say.” Tara speaks up. “We have a waitress/student, a doctor, and a paralegal. All living in different areas of the city with virtually no reason to interact.” 

Spencer looks down at his file, examining the picture when he notices something. Just as he opens his mouth to say something, you clear your throat.  

“Umm, Emily?” You say from your seat right across from Spencer. Emily looks up inquisitively at you. “I think I know what connects them.” 

“What’s that, Y/N?” Emily asks, raising a brow at her.  

You clear your throat again. “Victim #2, Rebecca Belfront, has a Padlock collar necklace on in her second picture. That’s typically used to indicate she’s a submissive with a committed dominant partner. But she wasn’t wearing it when her body was found which makes me think that that relationship recently ended. That made me look at the marks on their arms. While there are some new ones from the murders, they all have faded marks around the wrist and body as well. Leads me to believe the bounding was er-... consensual. We should probably look into New York’s BDSM scene.” You close, smiling awkwardly. 

Spencer looks at you in shock. He, of course, had come to the same conclusion you did and had been about to say that but he, at least, knew why he knew that. Why did you know that? 

Emily hummed thoughtfully. “It’s worth looking into. Do you mind coming to NY with us? Your insight might be needed.” 

You look kind of shocked at that but nod. “Of course, whatever I can do to help.” You say, softly. 

“Great, Wheels up in 30.” She says, getting up, effectively ending the meet. Spencer watches you speed after her, files in hand to ask some more questions. Spencer’s walking back to his desk when Luke catches up with him. 

“Y/N has a dark side. Who knew?” He says, smirking. 

“Probably not.” Spencer muses. “She could’ve just known that. I mean, I  just know stuff sometimes too.” 

“Nah, I don’t think so. Her body language gave her away. She was flushing and stuttering sure, but she was confident in what she was saying. Almost as if, she was speaking from experience.” Luke laughs. “She may be all lollipops and candy bars here, but I bet behind closed doors, she’s handcuffs and gags.”  

Spencer hums. “Maybe.” He says looking up to watch you walk back across the catwalk from Prentiss’ office. Luke was right though, your body language did give you completely away that you were talking from experience. Spencer couldn’t help but wonder just how much. 

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

When you arrive in New York, You head straight from the jet to the Police Station in Queens. You fiddle with your thumbs a bit, you are nervous. 

“You ok?” Spencer says, from his spot in front of the bulletin board he was setting up. You were supposed to be helping him but you knew Spencer was particular about some things so you let him do it. In fact, there were a lot of things you’d let Spencer do. With you, to you, you weren’t picky. The man was gorgeous enough to make you nervous. With his lean muscles, long, fluffy hair, and large hands, he looked like something that walked right out of a wet dream of yours. Which sometimes, he was just that. You weren’t stupid though, you knew Spencer didn’t think of you that way. In fact, you didn’t think Spencer thought of you in any way. He seemed to ignore you anyway he could. 

You look up from your laptop. “Oh yea, I’m fine. I’m just...nervous. I’ve never been in the field.” 

“Chances are you won’t be, Emily will probably keep you in the Station if she can help it.” Spencer provides. 

“I know, it’s just-- you know what I mean.” You say, Spencer nods before returning to the bulletin board. You stand to look at the map with him. “So, from what I was able to find there’s only 3 BDSM clubs in Queens but there’s only one in the middle of where the three women were found. Place called Cat’s Cradle.” 

Spencer hums. “How complicated and unpredictable the machinery of life really is.” You look up at the man, recognizing the quote.  

“There is love enough in this world for everybody, if people will just look.” You say back, shrugging. 

“You read Vonnegut?” He asks. 

“You said that like you’re more surprised that I can read than what I read being Vonnegut.” You say, Spencer shrugs not even denying it. God, he was such a dick sometimes. A hot dick, but a dick nonetheless. 

The two of you turn when you hear a knock at the door to see the lead detective coming in to check on you guys. “Just wanted to see how things were coming along. Also see if you guys needed anything?” Though he only directed the question at you with a sly smirk on his face. Men were so obvious sometimes. 

“Nope, we’re fine.” You smile although you didn’t want to. “We’ve narrowed down to a couple BDSM clubs so hopefully we’ll catch our guy soon.” 

“Wait, you think these girls were…” He trails off. You nod, knowing what he was thinking. “Well, it probably serves them right.” 

“Excuse me?” You say. 

“Listen, I know what kind of girls go into those kinds of clubs. If they want to be sexual deviants, they can’t be surprised when shit like this happens to them.” He gestures to the board. 

“Actually more women are into Dominant/Submissive as well as BDSM relationships than you would think, statistically 85%.” Spencer cuts him off. “These clubs are just commonplace for them to meet like minded people just like you would do in any other club and they should be put on trial after their deaths for trusting the wrong person. If you don’t mind, we’d like to get back to work, Detective.” He says, turning back towards the board. The man nods and leaves shortly after that. 

“Thank you.” You say, softly. 

“What for?” Spencer asks. 

“Come on, I work with profilers and I’m not stupid. I know you guys know about me so thank you for defending me just now.” 

“I wasn’t defending you.” Spencer says. “He was making inappropriate comments about victims and we don’t need that outdated way of thinking working on this case. Besides…” He says, eyes flickering down to your lips and back to your eyes. “You’re not the only one with… unconventional extracurriculars.” He turns and walks out after that leaving you watching after him. 

What? 

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

 After delivering the profile, you find the Unsub, a man named Ivan Parke. The only thing left to do was find the best way to snuff him out. When the team is discussing the next best course of action. It’s then Luke comes up with the idea. 

“We should send Y/N undercover.” He says. “She knows the profile and knows the most about the scene.” 

Emily nods. “Is that something you’re comfortable with, Y/N.” 

You look up. “Oh, um yea. I’d have to find a different outfit but you have to send someone with me.” You say, everyone looks at you confused so you sigh and explain yourself. “If you send me into a club like this, in a foreign place with no Dom, the Unsub isn’t going to be my only worry. Someone’s going to have to play my dominant.”   

“I’ll do it.” Spencer speaks up. Your eyes widened, you were not expecting Spencer to agree to it, you assumed you’d be stuck with Luke. Now you’re going to have to spend the night with the man you’d been crushing on since you started working with the BAU as his submissive. Like that wasn’t a dream come true. 

“Great.” Emily says, dismissing everyone and handing you an expense credit card for an outfit. You take it and leave immediately, ignoring the sly look Spencer gives you. 

You ended with a short, low-cut black leather dress with tank-like sleeves that showed off your curves and left very little to the imagination. As well as a clear pair of platform heels. You pulled your hair back into a sleek ponytail and you topped the look with your own personal leather choker with a large circle knob in the center. It was one of your favorite pieces to wear though you never really got a chance to wear it unless you were going to clubs, which you didn’t do as often these days. It was an expensive piece sure, but so worth it when you got to wear it. You were doing your makeup a little darker then you usually do in the bathroom when Spencer comes in. 

“Is this how you typically look on the weekends?” He asks, standing behind you in the mirror. You look up to look him in the eyes through it. 

“If I have the time.” You shrug. 

“It’s very different. You’re very different from how I thought you were.” 

“And how did you think I was, Spencer?”

“Naive...innocent.”   

“Well, maybe you shouldn’t have assumed anything about me.” You say, turning towards the man. 

“Maybe you’re right… That’s an expensive piece.” He points out pointing to your choker. “Emily’s going to have fun explaining that at the next budgetary hearing.” 

“I didn’t buy it today.” You explain. “It’s mine.” 

Spencer hums for a moment before lifting his hand to turn your jaw, examining the piece. You can’t help the way your breath hitches at the contact. Spencer was already so close to you and now he was touching you, it was already starting to be too much. Soon, Spencer is hooking two fingers into the circle knob of your choker and he yanks it. Involuntarily, a whimper falls from your lips, prompting a smirk from the man across from you. 

“Tonight’s going to be fun.” He says before leaving you in the bathroom in a state of shock. 

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

 After getting your comms set up by Luke, who tried to avert his eyes from your frame as much as possible, you and Spencer walk into the Cat’s Cradle. Typically you didn’t like the club scene, but you sometimes liked to venture out when looking for a new partner. Cat’s Cradle was definitely different than the other places you had been. Sure it still had the private rooms and the main stage where a scene was happening in front of you but it was a lot more laid back than the ones you went to in DC. Spencer was really enjoying his role too. Probably hamming it up too much because he knew there was a part of you that actually wanted him to. In the end, finding Ivan Parke was easy. He took the bait almost instantly and you were arresting him just as fast. 

“Great work tonight guys.” Emily says, when you reach the hotel lobby. “Jet’s leaving at 7AM so make sure to get some rest.” She says, dismissing you. 

Now begged a tricky situation because you had almost forgotten you and Spencer were rooming together. As you walked back to the room together the air was thick but both of you were silent. The tension had been building between the two of you since he yanked your choker in the station bathroom. You knew it was a matter of time. The dam had to break. 

“You can shower first.” Spencer says. You nod, taking off your choker and grabbing clothes before taking solace in the bathroom. You wanted Spencer and you knew you needed to expedite this. After a much needed shower, you change into your pajama shorts and tank combo. Spencer steps into the shower almost as soon as you leave it. It’s then that you think of the perfect plan. You lay on the bed and spread your legs before slipping a hand down your shorts. You tease yourself at first, rubbing your clit through your underwear while you thought about the events of the night. How Spencer had been so authoritative. How his hand slid to the small of your back and sometimes ghosted your ass as the two of you walked around the club. How he had been so close in the bathroom. The way he yanked you closer. A small moan escaped you as you slid your hand in your underwear. Soon you hear the bathroom door open. Spencer stops short, watching you before leaning on the frame. 

“Were you just touching yourself?”

“Yes.” You answer. “Are you gonna to do something about it?” 

“Should I? Instead of telling me what you want you decide to act like a brat and do this.” 

Spencer moves closer to the bed but doesn’t do anything, just continues to watch you so you decide to give him a show. Moaning loudly as you slide a digit inside of you. Spencer looks at you with hooded eyes. You can’t help the small laugh that leaves you. 

“I think you’re going to give me what I want.” You say, smirking. 

“And why’s that?” He says. 

“You’re already weak.” You say. 

“I’m weak, pretty girl?” He asks, incredulously. Before you know it, he’s ripping your hand out of your pants and crowding in the space between your legs forcing you to sit up and look at him. “You’re in here touching yourself to the thought of me like a horny teenager and I’m the one who’s weak? Ok.”  He sits back and pulls you by your hips to sit on top of his lap, your legs straddling one of his thighs. “The only way you’re getting off is on my thigh, ok?” He tells you, starting to move your hips. You moan, nodding your head as the friction makes its way through your core. Spencer lifts your shirt off you and smirks when his eyes land on your bare breast. He leans forward to catch your left nipple in his mouth. Your back arches as you grind harder against his thigh. Your hands fly up to start unbuttoning his shirt when he stops you. 

“Did I say you could touch yet, princess?”  He asks. 

“N-No, sir.” You stutter. 

“Then keep your hands to yourself.” He says, putting your hands back to your side. He does indulge you by taking his shirt off himself. But that doesn’t help you keep your hands to yourself. You saw the lean muscle and craved to mark it up with your nails. Your hands go up to touch him again but he stops you. 

“If I have to ask you again, I’m going to tie you up, Princess. Just be good, baby.” 

You were already close before but now with Spencer’s hands and mouth everywhere and constant friction on your sex it was damn near pushing you off the edge. 

“I’m gonna come.” You tell him, he grips your hips tighter, lifting his leg slightly so he was only rubbing against your clit. That makes you moan out loudly. 

“Go ahead, Princess. Cum for me.” He says, and that was all you needed to fall right over the edge. Your legs shake and convulse as Spencer grips your hips help you ride it out.  Soon you come down panting and he’s kissing into your neck. He pulls back and grips your jaw. 

“Still think I’m weak, Princess?”  He asks. 

You knew it was unwise. In fact, you tried to stop yourself before you did it but it was too late. You reared your hand back and slapped Spencer across the cheek. Not hard enough to be seen as anything malicious but sharp enough to throw him off, like he couldn’t believe you had done it.  

“Yes I do.” You say looking him in the eyes after. Something like a switch went off because there was no other way to describe the look he gave you other than feral and fully primitive. He pushes you off him. 

“Get on your hands and knees, now.” He says, menacingly. You scramble and run to get into the position. Once in, Spencer forces your knees further apart. He angrily takes his belt off his pants before fashioning them into a makeshift cuff and pulling your wrist so they’re tied behind your back, leaving you face down into the mattress. He slides your shorts and underwear off in one go. You yelp loudly when the first slap comes to your behind. When the second and third slap comes, you try to squeeze your legs together to get some form of friction but Spencer forces your knees further apart. You moan out when you feel a digit slide against your folds. You try to push back on it but Spencer holds your hips in place. 

“P-Please.” you stutter. 

“What do you want, Princess?” He says, sliding a second digit inside you making you cry out more. 

“Please, fuck me, Spencer.” You say, and you really didn’t have to ask twice because almost as soon as you ask Spencer’s hands leave you to finish unbuckling his pants. There’s a brief moment of calm, so calm that you almost think Spencer wasn’t going to give you what you want but that calm is interrupted by Spencer slamming into, no warning. You scream out but that’s only rewarded with your head being shoved more into the mattress to muffle your cries. Spencer’s hands are pulling on your cuffs so he is almost impossibly deep inside you. You moans start to get louder and louder. Suddenly, Spencer is pulling you up so you’re both sitting up, your back against his chest. One of his hands slides to grip around your neck while the other is moving to circle your clit. The hand around your neck tilts your jaw back so you’re looking up at the man behind you. 

“Fuck, you feel so good. Open your mouth, Princess.” He orders, which you do instantly sticking your tongue out. Spencer leans forward and spits into your waiting mouth before locking his mouth with yours. His hand squeezes your neck tighter as you moan into his mouth as he starts fucking you faster, his dick hitting your g-spot almost every thrust. It’s not long before you’re just babbling, not even able to string a coherent sentence together. 

“You gonna come for me, Princess?” He asks. You nod, moaning loudly. At this point, you knew there was no way the person in the room next to you guys didn’t hear you. You could only hope that it wasn’t one of the team. “Go ahead for me, baby. Be a good girl and come on my cock.” After that, it doesn’t take long before you’re falling over the edge, shaking all the while. Spencer fucks you through it before tightening his grip on your hips to bend you back forwards so your face is back on the mattress. He fucks you hard and fast before falling over the edge himself, moaning your name. 

The two of you say nothing as he unties you. When he does, you instantly flop down on your back, breathing heavily. Spencer wordlessly gets up and goes to the bathroom. For a moment you think he’s just leaving you like this, that you were foolish to think Spencer cared anything about you but in that moment he comes back with a wet cloth and ointment. He says nothing as he wipes between your legs before tossing the towel aside. You watch him with a smirk on your face as he rubs the ointment on the red marks the red cuffs made on you. 

He looks you in the eye. “What, Y/N?” 

“What happened to Princess?” You say, Spencer just looks at you with a bored expression which only makes you smile more. “Now’s probably a good time for you to ask me to dinner.” 

Spencer chuckles lightly at that. “You don’t want to go to dinner with me.” 

“I’m almost positive I do. Why would you say that?” You ask. 

Spencer looks you in the eyes at that moment. “I’m not-Y/N, I’m not like you.” 

“Like me?” 

“I’m not able to be cheery and smiley. I can’t float into rooms. I can’t be happy like you are, too much has happened to me. You deserve someone happy.” 

“Spencer.” You say, looking him in the eyes. “You are not broken. You can be happy, it’s going to take time sure but I’m willing to be with you through that. If you want that.” You say. 

Spencer nods. “Ok, Y/N.” he smiles. 

“So….?” 

He rolls his eyes at that. “What’re you doing next sunday?” 

You smile, brightly. “Absolutely nothing.”    

Perm. Taglist: @moonshinerbynight​ @crimeshowtrash​

[embretheworld]

I was bored so here’s some hc’s

I have a lot surprisingly so a lot of these are coming off the top of my head

-Laxus does not have good eyesight in the eye with a scar because that's where the lacrima was implanted. But he can still see out of it, it just gets blurry sometimes.

-If you had a lacrima implanted in you, there's gonna be a scar where it was implanted, and depending on what type of magic it is determine's the shape.

-Laxus's mother was born without magic and had the same thing happen to her but she was 16 when she had it implanted in her hand, she also had asked to have one and Laxus didn't.

-Laxus was born without magic thanks to his mother being born without magic too.

-When you get a lacrima implanted in you, depending on what type and how strong it is, depends on how sick you get. It's a counterbalance so people won't always get lacrima's implanted in them. The day it was implanted you get very sick as the body's reaction to an overwhelming influx of magic in your system, it happens every year in the same day it was implanted but the first time is the worst.

-"This is what I get for being emotionally slutty," Loke probably looking back on some kind of event.

-Loke with freckles!

-Loke sleeps when he's bored.

-Lucy suffers the worst writer's block ever and can't seem to ever get out of it no matter how hard she tries(I feel you girl).

-Plue really likes candy.

-Happy got Lucy a little frame that said "Life is better with cats" for her Birthday and despite how much Happy annoys her sometimes she keeps it on the desk she writes on and treasures it dearly.

-Do not let Erza play whack a mole or the games where you have to throw balls at clowns or vases you have to knock down to win a prize.

-Or let the dragon slayers play any driving game in general.

-Horror movies do not scare Aries, a lot of things do, but not horror movies.

-Mira really likes candles, but always gets them when they're on sale.

- Gray once got banned from a strip club after being mistaken for one of the strippers.

-Juvia could literally kill someone if she wanted to since our bodies are made of 60% of water but has no idea. She desires to learn more about blood magic if she so desires but hasn't.

-Levy wants to study rune magic but procrastination is her worst enemy, also people trying to attack the guild interrupting her every time she tries to cracks open a book to try and learn it. She's stopped trying to learn it in fear that if she tries someone will start attacking the guild again.

-Gajeel & Juvia and Gray & Loke are very underrated friendships that need more attention.

-Natsu chugged hot sauce and didn't even flinch. (A friend of mine did that and they scare me.)

-Lucy carries around a box of matches just in case Natsu wants a snack whenever they go on missions.( which is a lot of the time, a lot of her money has went into buying matches, she's had to go to plenty different stores to buy some because she's scared the clerk will think she's up to something and explaining it will only make her seem more suspicious.)

-Technically demon slayers are just exorcists but with more violence.

-In a human au Gray was an exorcist once.

But in normal Fairy Tail he takes side jobs on getting rid of demons from ordinary houses or other places which pays a lot.

-The wool Aries can make, can make really nice jackets. She's made jackets using it, but Loke stole it cause he likes comfy things in general.

-Loke actually needs his glasses, his glasses double as both sunglasses and normal glasses(someone I know someone who has the same type of glasses, I also wear glasses so.) due to being in Earthland too long, certain things started deteriorating like important sense's thankfully it wasn't on a major scale but on a longer one but it can't be fixed.

-Due to his eyesight deteriorating he has better hearing.

-Loke and Evergreen are nearsighted, Levy is farsighted.

-Ivan named Laxus because Laxus looked so much like his mother it only seemed fair.

-Laxus has an aunt who's his mom's sister. He talks to her through letters because she lives across the sea.

-"My little dragon," was a nickname that Laxus's mom gave him after he had gotten the dragon lacrima implanted in him against her wishes since if they were to do it, she wanted to do it when he was 16 like her but Ivan thought 8 was a much more appropriate age. (It was not). The only one who knows of this nickname for him is Makarov, his mom, his aunt, and his dad.

-His dad once used the name in a fight against him and he wanted to punch him so bad.

-If Mira were to swear she'd put sailors to shame.

-Erza has horrible road rage.

-I refuse to believe that Loke has two sets of ears, he does not have human ears and lion(cat ears?) ears at the same time just lion ears while in his celestial form and humans ones in his human form. He wears the piercing he used to wear on his human ears on his cat ears when in said celestial form, or outfit or whatever.

-The car ears(I'm calling them that now) are actual ears, you'd be surprised how many people try to pull on them in thinking that they aren't only to be pleasantly surprised that they in fact are. He likes to be pet behind them whenever they are there and he doesn't have regular human ears.

-He also despises chokers/collars with the very soul of his being. He might hiss at you if you bring one even close to him that's how much he hates them.

He doesn't even have a reason to he just hates them.

-Erza sometimes refers to her guildmates as "Feral children".

-Dragonslayers cannot whistle if their life depended on it.

-Loke knows French because most of his masters were in the French Court meaning it was mandatory for him to learn it. (I refuse to believe anyone with common sense would date him with that haircut he had in the human world, looked like something a 5-year-old would draw on a stick figure in an attempt to draw hair).

-Levy knows French, Arabic, and a few other languages.

-She fucks with people by talking to Loke in French and making them think that they're talking about that person why they aren't.

-Mira tried to learn French, she failed very badly since she kept forgetting the parts before the word and kept messing it up.

-The dragon slayers can purr when happy, growl when mad, and whimper when sad.

-The same thing applies to Loke but mostly because he's an overgrown cat.

-In order to date someone at the guild if you aren't in it you have to get Erza's blessing/asking her if it's alright since she's kinda the older sister and also the first one you wanna tell.

-Loke does not blow-dry his hair after he washes it because it just poof's up and there's no way to fix it other than to wash his hair again and look like a drowned cat for an hour or two. Though his hair is very soft after he washes it and it properly drys and isn't wet.

-Celestial spirits can dream, but their dreams consist of looking back on old memories from an outside viewpoint.

-Freed says "Let's have another round tonight" very unenthusiastically when drunk, just that sentence, no other sentence, just that one, only when he's drunk.

-Loke's good with finances along with fashion because one of his previous master, Valeria, pushed her financial work on him as a 'learning experience'.

-Loke was also offered a modeling job before and Lucy is super pissed since he of all people can get one but not her. (In the human au, he actual does modeling)

-If Mira and Loke were to team up it'd most like to be to help people in the guild get together.

-They would succeed.

-They both also like wine.

-Loke and Erza are bi, Mira is pan.

-Upon learning about this, Juvia considered Loke a love rival, be assured her that he was none and that he'd give her some advice to trying to date Gray because Gray and romance don't go well if she kept quiet about it.

-Gray ended up figuring it out and still holds it against him.

-Loke does not like being compared to a cat, he despises it so Gray as the best friend he is does exactly that.

-The two of them have blackmail on each other, and Gray often drags Loke into watching horror movies knowing he absolutely despises him with the very core of his being.

-Gajeel will fight anyone who hurts his best friend, Juvia.

Or anyone who hurts his guild but Juvia is different since she's been with him since they joined Fairy Tail.

Natsu once grabbed a pan straight out of the oven and horrified everyone in the room.

[omniswords]

Chronicles of a Parisian Dumbass 14

Happy Chronicles Update! I promise I'm still trucking along on this baby. I think?? We've also officially reached the halfway mark on this installment, which is kind of. Wow. That's WILD.

anyway, I hope you enjoy!

welcome to today’s episode of Luka’s Word to the Wise: whatever it is, it doesn’t have to be perfect. it just has to be good.

thanks, I.

Ivan is right. And technically, so is his Ma, who’s been telling him and Juleka this for as long as he can remember. But Luka will give them the gratification of saying I told you so when this is all over. Even though he could take a stab in the dark and guess that only one of them would take him up on that offer. And it wouldn’t be Ivan. And it wouldn’t be his Ma.

In between messaging back and forth with Bubbles over the next couple of days, Luka puts together a flyer. It’s not exactly the best—just something he threw together on one of those free graphic design websites, definitely nothing like a Gabriel billboard. But it’s punchy, and it fits the vibe, and it gets the overall message across. And more importantly, Juleka doesn’t give him The Look for it. In fact, she smiles over his shoulder when it’s done, and she rubs her fist in his hair, and she affectionately says, “Now can you chill?”

Luka only grins and throws her into a fireman’s carry for another round of ping-pong. He’s pretty sure he doesn’t know how to be totally chill any more.

They pool pocket money, leftovers from past paychecks, to put in an order for copies at the local print shop. Only Rose has ever been; she tells them she’s tagged along with a couple of old friends from an art club to print issues of the comic they’ve been working on together. It’s nice to see her take the lead, point out the best paper stocks and finishes and spot colors, whatever those are, based on what she’s overheard. It certainly beats the alternative: four barely-adults standing awkwardly at the counter, pretending they know what they’re doing.

Even if, according to Luka’s Ma, that’s most of what adulthood is, anyway.

They decide on something glossy because it makes the colors pop, and admittedly Luka has to thank his lucky, anxious stars for saving the file in every format imaginable because he wasn’t sure which one they’d need. Before he leaves them and heads to work on his bike, Juleka gives him another smile, and Ivan manages a single, subtle nod, and Rose’s eyes sparkle. And it’s starting to feel a little less like a thing he needs to do. It’s a thing he wants to do. With them.

And, well. Any bonuses are just that. Bonuses.

These days, Luka’s made it a point to bike past the bakery on his way to work, because if he’s as much of a regular as the Dupain-Cheng family claims, then he might as well act like it. To be fair, he doesn’t always stop in to talk or buy something; in fact, most times he doesn’t. maybe it’s some silly sense of hope that he’ll be seen. That Marinette really did talk to her parents about picking up an extra shift or two behind the counter. That there’s still room on the bulletin board for him—them. And most times, it is just Mrs. Cheng at the storefront, organizing displays or chatting with a friendly customer.

But sometimes it isn’t. Sometimes it is Marinette, idly staring at the window with what he can only assume is her sketchbook at her side and her apron tied around her waist. And sometimes, she looks up at him. And sometimes, she waves and smiles with all the warmth and none of the sweat of July.

That’s why he does it. For the sometimes.

The flyers, once they’re printed, are nothing short of gorgeous, but Luka can’t bring himself to take any of the credit for it. More than anything, he’s just happy to see his bandmates all in on this, even if he did jump in with both feet. Even if they do still rib him during practice about how he’s way too invested in this. (At least Mylène has only nice things to say. He’ll have to remember to order a few extra pastries just for her.)

They split the flyers into four stacks, because of course Mylène insists on helping and of course Rose and Juleka insist on going together. They run or pedal off in different directions once they’ve put a game plan together, and at least Luka can credit them for not teasing when he offers to take the third and fourth arrondissement. They all know it’s where the bakery is, in spite of how he talks up the Place des Vosges. They know, and they don’t have to say anything.

He’s still trying to figure out whether it’s a blessing or a curse to have your real-life friends on your social media accounts.

Even as he’s hanging the flyers in downtown coffee shops, in libraries, on signposts and public bulletin boards, Luka can’t stop staring. With every flyer he pins or tapes up, he finds something new to love about it. A splash of neon color in the top left corner. The jagged, cutting edges of the lettering. The blurred glow of a spotlight. Every time he looks, he gets the feeling that he’s already there. Music pounding in his ears, stage lights burning so bright and hot they make him sweat, fresh calluses on his fingertips that he’ll regret and adore later. He doesn’t think of stardom often, but he imagines this is something close to it.

At the very least, it’s what he would want to make of it.

It’s close to closing by the time Luka arrives at the bakery-patisserie; the usual lingering smells of fresh bread and sugary frosting and the easygoing music are both conspicuously absent when he walks in. But Mr. Dupain and Ms. Cheng are both missing from the storefront, and he has to double check the time on his phone to make sure he didn’t accidentally arrive too late, or that he’s not interrupting some closing routine. It shouldn’t take long; he spent almost the whole bike ride over rehearsing what he needed to say. He looks around cautiously, even clears his throat in case it gets someone’s attention.

It does. Marinette pops up from behind the counter with a squeak, and it startles him so much he nearly drops the stack of remaining flyers in his arms. And that would’ve been a pain in the ass as much as it would’ve been straight out of one of Rose’s cute romcoms for Marinette to round the counter and help him pick them up until their hands brushed over the same one.

Jesus. He really needs to get out of the house on his sister’s date nights.

He really needs to have a date night.

He also really needs to stop thinking about date nights when the person he’d actually consider a date night with is right in front of—

“Luka?”

He blinks to attention, standing awkwardly in the quiet. God, he really hopes he wasn’t staring at her when he zoned out like that. “Sorry,” he mumbles.

Marinette shrugs it off with an apologetic smile. “We’re fresh out of napoleons, you know,” she says casually, slipping past him to flip the sign on the door. “Guess you’ll just have to come first thing tomorrow morning.”

“Yeah, I guess I will—wait—” He shakes his head. “No, that’s not why I’m here.”

Marinette pauses at that. Even seems to stand a little taller, intrigued. Hopeful? “Oh…? Then why…  are you here?”

Meekly, Luka holds up one of the Kitty Section flyers and nods toward the bulletin board. Here’s hoping he—it— isn’t too much of a disappointment.

Marinette squints at the flyer for a second, and then her eyes widen and spark in delight. She looks… impressed, at least. which isn’t to say she’s never seemed impressed by him before. It just makes all the things he’s been working for a little more worth it. “Wow,” she says. “You really weren’t kidding about being in a band, huh.”

“You know it,” he says with what he prays is a casual shrug; this… wasn’t part of the script. “I don’t wear this thing on my back just to look pretty.”

She stifles a laugh, then claps a hand to her mouth immediately. “Sorry, I didn’t—I wasn’t implying that you’re not handsome—pretty— “

Oh God. She’s stammering. And it’s adorable.

Marinette composes herself with a deep breath and her arms folded over her chest. “There are pushpins in the corner,” she says. “Hang it up wherever you want.”

Except Luka can’t help feeling like she’s got her eyes on him the whole time. Either she’s coming to terms with the fact that he was telling the truth all along, or she’s… judging him. Or the flyer. And honestly, he can’t tell which is worse. “What’s wrong?” he asks once he notices she’s still staring. “Did I put it up at a funny angle or something?”

“No, just… thinking…” Her voice sounds distant, perhaps somewhere he might never find her. But then she snaps her fingers, and she says, “That’s it!”

“Uh.” Luka’s brow furrows. “What’s it?”

“Oh, just… sorry, my thoughts just ran away with me, I guess.” Marinette steps toward the flyer, brushing her fingers over it and wincing. maybe it’s just from the finish; his nails have scraped over then more than once, and it felt just as bad as a chalkboard. “I was just thinking, well…  you’ve been good to my parents and all. Why don’t we help you with promotion? You know, put postcards in the boxes or bags. It couldn’t hurt, could it?”

Luka nearly spotters, but the only thing he can manage to say is, “Where am I gonna get postcards?”

“I can make ‘em.” She says it like the simplest, most obvious thing in the world, and looks him up and down when he falters. “If… you and your band are okay with that, I mean. Cause I, y’know… dabble, in graphic design. But I don’t want to impose, if you’re okay with this. It’s your band and all.”

“I can,” he starts to say; then he stops himself, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck. “I can ask them?” Idiot, he thinks. That wasn’t supposed to be a question. “I’ll let you know what they say. Have to come in bright and early tomorrow anyway, right?”

Marinette only smiles. It’s faint, almost absentminded, but that sweet little tug at the corner of her mouth is hardly lost on him. “You don’t have to.”

“Ask them?”’

“Come by.” Her bag is hanging on a peg by the register, and she’s off rummaging through it before Luka can ask what she means. He gravitates toward her more than he actually walks to her, and by the time he reaches the counter she’s fishing a card out of her wallet. It’s pink and black, decorated with the same spray of flowers and monogram as her apron. when he turns it over, there’s her name at the top, and below that, two email addresses. And two phone numbers.

He looks up, wide-eyed.

“So,” Marinette says. “Unless you’re coming all this way for a napoleon, a pear tart, and my pretty face, I think you’re good.”

“I—” Luka turns the business card over and over as though it will teach him now to speak again. “I guess so.” Does she know he thinks her face is pretty? Wait—of course she does, he gave her that note. Oh, Jesus, does she still have that thing? It’s been weeks. “Well,” he says, scuffing his heel against the tile. “Who knows. Maybe I’ll come anyway.”

Okay, that was definitely not part of the script.

But then, neither is the way her eyes are sparkling. “Well,” she murmurs. “Maybe you will.”

“I should, uh—” He jerks a thumb toward the door. “Go, um. Happy closing?”

She laughs behind a hand, glancing between him and the tacked-up flyer before she grabs a broom and sends him off with a delicate wave. And to be honest, Luka’s never been angry with nature before, but he curses the wind for being so loud that he can’t hear that giggle in his head, over and over. Almost as much as he thanks it for drowning out all the stupid things he said, and the lingering questions of why she offered at all.

Luka’s Word to the Wise, Part 2:

Progress isn’t linear but it sure as hell doesn’t mean you can’t stutter your way through getting a girl’s number and succeed.

[miracul0us-multishipper]

Transformation

Ivan was hurting, she could feel it. And even without Nooroo’s brooch, the way he slumped against his locker was evidence enough.

Marinette kneeled down next to him. He took off his headphones when he saw her, but refused to look at her. Poor boy.

“You know,” she started, patting his arm, “You should tell Mylène how you feel.”

A startled spike of emotion came from her brooch and Ivan turned away, hiding his face.

“I-I... uh, I don’t know what you’re talking about!”

She smiled.

“Come on, I saw the way you look at her.”

He was as lovestruck as a teenage boy could be! Unfortunately, that had been the wrong thing to say: Ivan let his head droop, obviously hurt.

“No!”, she rowed back, “No negative emotions! I mean, uh... stay positive?”

God, she was bad at this! Sighing, she sat down next to him.

“Ivan, I’m sure Mylène has feelings for you too. Go talk to her!”

He only scoffed.

“Ugh, I’m no good with words.”

Welcome to the club. But... she’d seen how he and Mylène danced around each other, like stars in each other’s orbit. Surely, they could figure things out.

“Well, who needs words anyway?”, she suggested. “You could paint her something, or send her flowers!”

Ivan finally looked at her, an idea forming behind that hopeful face of his.

“I could... write her a song?”

She beamed. He truly was a romantic at heart!

“That’s a great idea! Who wouldn’t love a song written just for oneself? Go for it, Ivan, and uh... stay positive!”

An enthusiastic laugh escaped him and he got up, energized by inspiration. Surprisingly quick for a guy of his size, he vanished through the door - and the heat of her brooch dispersed with him.

“He’s adorable!”, she chuckled. “I’m sure he’s gonna sweep Mylène off her feet.”

Nooroo smiled, flying out of her purse.

“Well done, Marinette! Just a little more time, and the Akumas are going to be cured by his happiness alone.”

Relieve flooded her, confident that all of this would be over soon. And until then, she could spend time with Alya, her new best friend!

Maybe this year truly wouldn’t be so bad, after all.

-

As it turned out, she was wrong on both accounts. Her peaceful morning with Alya was interrupted by Chewing-Gum-Boy, Chloe’s missing friend and son of Marinette’s greatest idol. Pretty as a spring morning, but likely just as rotten as friend he was bound to be trouble. Alya was right: Better stay away from him.

But, not only would she have to deal with Male Chloé 2.0 from now on, just before Madame Bustier entered the room, a searing pain shot through her chest.

“Ah!”

“Marinette?”, Alya asked, turning to her in concern. She’d doubled over and hit her head on the table, adding on to the impulse of the brooch.

“I-I’m alright!”, Marinette managed to press out. “I just... I need to go!”

Before anyone could protest, she’d run out, not paying attention to whatever nasty comment Chloé came up with.

“What happened?”, she asked Nooroo, hiding in a broom closet and holding her chest. “I thought Ivan was feeling better!”

“Something must have gone wrong.” the Kwami worried, floating around her and patting her hair. “Is it getting better already?”

Yes, it was. After the first impulse, the pain had turned into a lingering uncomfortableness. She took a deep breath and peaked out of the closet, just in time to see Mylène running into the classroom - alone.

“Maybe he missed her?”, Nooroo wondered, but she shook her head.

“Then he would’ve talked to her later. No, maybe she rejected him? But... I was so sure she liked him too!”

She groaned, holding her head.

“Ugh, this is horrible! I thought I could make things better, but I only made everyone worse! I’m so sorry, Nooroo.”

Ivan, Mylène, Nooroo, all these people transformed into monsters... she’d let them down.

“It’s alright.”, Nooroo said, his voice heavy with hopelessness. “You tried! And you showed me so many beautiful things. I’m happy that we have met, Marinette.”

She looked up at him, realizing that he expected this to be goodbye. Her heart cramped at his somber face.

He would be locked away. Sweet, curious Nooroo would be locked away, and he would think he deserved it.

“No.”, she said out loud. Nooroo blinked, surprised.

“Marinette?”

“No! I won’t let that happen.”

For his sake, she had to fight her insecurities off. There had to be a way... of course!

She closed the door of the closet and took of her scarf, revealing the brooch.

“You are a good person, Nooroo.”, she stated, leaving no room for debate. “You deserve the world. And if you want to see it? Then by everything that’s holy, I’ll make sure that you do!”

He opened his mouth to remind her of their problem, but she beat him to it.

“I said that we’ll find a solution, and I’ll keep my word. We haven’t explored every option yet!”

She touched the brooch, the Miraculous. It was still warm from Ivan’s heartache.

“You said this works like Ladybird’s earrings, right?”

Nooroo looked torn between doubt and curiosity, but nodded.

“What are you thinking?”

“I think, we’ll show the world how to be a real hero. We can do it, you and I! We’ll use the brooch like it’s meant to be used: to help people! Ivan needs our help, and if he can’t solve his problem as himself...”

She smiled.

“Then we’ll help him do it as Stoneheart.”

“A-Are you sure?”, Nooroo hesitated. “Remember how dangerous he was the last time! You were so scared, weren’t you?”

She huffed.

“He just didn’t have the right guidance. Without Hawkmoth riling him up, we can handle this!”

Kneeling down, she looked him in the eyes.

“We have to try! I couldn’t live with myself if I just gave you up like this.”

Nooroo sniffled, tears forming in the corners of his eyes.

“Oh, Marinette!”, he wailed. She took that as his agreement.

“We don’t have any time to lose. What do I have to do?”

Nooroo swiped away his tears, shaking his head to focus.

“Dark wings rise, that’s all you have to say.”

Her eyebrows shot up.

“Uh... that does sound ominous.”

“Not at all!”, Nooroo defended, crossing his arms. “Darkness hasn’t always been equal to evil. Just think of Yin and Yang!”

“Hm,” she pondered. “Well then. I’ll take your word for it!”

Not allowing herself to overthink this, she got up and touched the brooch. Here we go.

“Nooroo, dark wings rise!”

[literallyusuk]

Distance (USUK)

Super late prize fic for @a-lfreedom. Bls forgive ;;w;;

It’s Cardverse! With a lotta fluff and some pining, cuz we all like that.

~~~~~

“Arthur, go sleep. You’re obviously exhausted.” Their connection is fizzling at the edges, and Alfred can see the way Arthur’s eyelids are drooping.

“No, I… I’m fine.” Arthur blinks a few times and rubs at his eyes. His image on the waterfall clears and sharpens once more. “I feel like we haven’t spoken in ages, and tomorrow we’re going on another expedition.”

Alfred chews on his lower lip. “More ruins?”

“He’s found a door leading into the mountains, and Alfred, the energy that’s bleeding out from it…” Arthur lets out a sigh. “It’s going to be incredible.”

The King can’t help but to smile at the way his Queen’s green eyes have lit up. “Be careful, though. Last time was a close call, wasn’t it?”

“We err, might have rushed into that one a little bit. But don’t worry, Al. I’m more than capable to face anything now.”

“So you’ll come home soon?” Alfred perks up. “The meetings have been so boring without you there, and-”

“I have to stay longer.” Arthur looks down, fiddles with something out of sight.

“But you said you’re capable-”

“But there’s still so much more for me to learn! It was hard enough to convince him to teach me in the first place, to make sure that this trip wasn’t worthless. If I leave now, I’m never going to be able to come back.”

Alfred’s hands clench at his sides. “You’ve been gone six months, Arthur. Too much longer, and we’ll be vulnerable to an attack.”

“Who’s going to attack us? Diamonds and Hearts are allies, Clubs is still in its honeymoon phase with the new Queen and Jack, we’re fine.” Arthur crosses his arms over his chest. “I need to do this.”

“And I need you here.” Alfred’s voice is soft.

“That’s not fair and you know it. You’re being selfish.”

“I’m being selfish? You’re the one who snuck out!”

“This was the best time to-” Suddenly, Arthur’s mouth clicks shut. “We’re not doing this. Good night, Alfred.”

The connection is severed before Alfred can say another word. Arthur’s image vanishes, leaving just a regular waterfall in its place. He sighs heavily and runs his fingers through his hair, then leaves the room. The Scrying Chamber is home to a waterfall and a small pool that drains deeper into some underground river, and is part of a larger complex of rooms underneath Spades Palace. It all makes up The Queen’s Labyrinth, where all the Queens of Spades have practised and stored their magical knowledge. It’s all very pretty and glowy, but Alfred is wary of it, after he’d brushed up against some statue that had turned him into a rabbit for a week. Better to leave this place to Arthur. But the Scrying Chamber is the only way he can talk to Arthur while the Queen is gone, so every few days he braves the maze of rooms for a little while.

Careful not to touch anything, he makes his way back up to the castle proper. The Jack is waiting for him.

“I’m to assume it didn’t go well?” Yao asks.

Alfred purses his lips. “He’s being stubborn. His precious master’s found some new ruin for them to explore and it’s just-” He starts pacing the room, raking his hands through his hair and making it even more of a mess than usual. “Ugh! It’s so frustrating! He’s so far away and there’s nothing I can do and- and how do we even know we can trust this dude? He just suddenly sends a summons for the Queen of Spades and oh nooo Arthur just has to go halfway across the fucking world because there’s no other way and he has to go alone and-” He cuts off with a wordless, jumbled groan of frustration.

Yao schools his features into something less amused when the King looks to him. “You’re right. We can’t trust this master.”

“See-?!”

“But. But we can trust Arthur. Do you trust your husband, Alfred? Do you trust your Queen?”

The King deflates like a limp hot air balloon. “I…do.” He paces over to the other side of the room and slumps into a chair, head in his hands. “I just don’t like being so far away from him. So…unable to protect him.”

“Arthur would kick your ass if he heard you say that and we both know it.”

“Yeah.” Alfred chuckles along with his Jack. “Yeah, he totally would. But he’s not here to hear it, so lemme say it just this once.”

“My lips are sealed.”

“Good.”

Yao clears his throat. “While you were in there, we’ve had another message come in…”

Alfred groans again, and takes a deep breath. “King’s work is never done, eh? And now I get to do Arthur’s paperwork, too. Lead the way, Yao, let’s get this over with.”

~~~~~

He waits by the waterfall for two hours, but Arthur doesn’t show yet again. Alfred’s starting to get worried, and his stomach clenches. “Arthur!” he yells, as if his voice could somehow activate the magic needed for him to see his husband.

But he doesn’t know the spell, or any magic at all, so of course nothing happens. Magic is the realm of the Queen, and somewhat the Jack. It’s never been kind to Alfred either. Usually, one of two things happens; it doesn’t work, or it has the exact opposite effect. Arthur’s a natural with spells, though, always has been, and Alfred could watch him work with it for hours. But here, in the most magical place in the castle, he’s powerless and unable to reach Arthur.

His eyebrows are knitted together when he finally gives up and leaves the room.

“There you are! I nearly sent someone in there after you!” Yao strides towards him. “Did you speak to Arthur?”

Alfred shakes his head. The Queen wasn’t dead; he and Yao would feel it if that came to pass, but anything else is fair game. Sick, poisoned, unconscious, weak… Alfred’s stomach churns even more. “Where is he? What’s he doing?”

“You know how stubborn he is,” Yao ventures forth. “If he thinks you’ve slighted him…”

“I didn’t slight him! I said I wanted him back home, safe, with me! That’s all!”

“Still, if he’s offended-”

“I’ll send a bird,” Alfred mutters, heading for his office. “I’ll need your help with enchanting it.”

“Of course.”

At his desk, Alfred crafts a letter.

Artie.

I’m really sorry if I said something to piss you off or upset you. It’s been days, and I’ve been waiting for you but you never showed and I’m getting so worried. Please, write back, or something, to let me know that you’re okay. I love you so much.

Alfred

Once it’s done, Alfred carefully starts folding the paper into the shape of a bird, long and sleek. Technically the enchantment doesn’t need a particular shape, Alfred could just roll the paper up and send it on its way, but both he and Arthur like the extra touch the folding gives it. Makes it just a bit more magical.

Arthur was the one who showed him the steps, and while he can replicate the general shape, Arthur’s birds always look prettier than Alfred’s. This one’s beak is crooked, and one wing is shorter than the other. He gives it to Yao anyway, and watches as the Jack enchants the bird and tosses it out the window. It falls for a moment, then flaps its wings and soars northwest. To Arthur. Oh, how Alfred wishes he could join it.

“Now we wait,” Yao says, turning to him.

Alfred sighs, and slumps back in his seat. He rubs his fingertips together, spreading the ink stains on them. “Now we wait.”

~~~~~

Alfred doesn’t know what’s woken him, but when he opens his eyes, Arthur is at the bedside. “Arthur!” His delighted smile withers away when his hands pass right through the Queen, and it’s only once he blinks that he realises there’s a faint glow around his husband.

The image of Arthur lets out a soft chuckle. “Sorry, love. Not yet.”

“How are you-?” Wonder overtakes Alfred’s face as he reaches out again, this time stopping his hand before it reaches the image. It gives his eyes the illusion that he’s touching Arthur, at least. “I’m not in the cave.”

“You’re not.” Arthur looks smug. “I was right, the stuff in those ruins… I’ve learned so many new spells, and some ways of conserving my own magical energy.”

“I’m happy for you.” And he is. He really is. But the ache in his chest won’t abate until Arthur is back home.

Something of that must show on his face, because Arthur looks away. “I got your bird. Your folding still needs work.”

Alfred brings his hands back to himself. “Yeah. You’re better and making ‘em than me.”

The image of Arthur sits down on the bed next to him. “…I miss you too. Very much. And it wasn’t right of me to say that you were overly selfish for wanting me back home.” His voice is soft.

“I love you, Artie. So much.” Out of habit, he leans over to rest his head on Arthur’s shoulder and squawks when he ends up falling sideway onto the mattress instead.

Arthur chuckles behind his hand. “Silly.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Alfred grumbles, but he’s smiling too. “So when will you be back?”

“Soon. There’s a particular spell that I still need help to master. Once I’ve done that, I’ll return home.”

“Okay.” Alfred stifles a yawn into his arm. “What kind of spell is it?”

“It’s a secret. But you’ll like it. I’ll show it to you once I’m back.” Arthur’s face softens. “You should go back to sleep now. I didn’t think about the time difference.”

“I can stay up a bit,” Alfred insists. “I wanna look at your face some more.”

“Oh, just my face?” Arthur snorts.

“And listen to you pretty voice for longer.”

“Flatterer.”

“You like it.”

“I do.” Arthur makes a motion as if to stroke Alfred’s hair, then remembers the limits of the magic. “You spoil me far too much, but I can’t help but love it.”

“Spoil you just enough,” Alfred corrects.

Arthur’s smile is fond. “Just enough, then.”

For a moment it’s quiet, with Alfred just gazing at Arthur’s softly glowing form and Arthur looking back at him just the same. Then, Alfred speaks again. “I’m gonna throw you a party. When you get back, that is.”

“Oh?” One of Arthur’s impressive eyebrows rises.

“Yeah. Dunno if we should invite the others, though.”

“Hmm. Would be nice. We haven’t seen anyone since the Club wedding, and I’d like to get to know Elizaveta better.”

“She seemed intense. Different to Ivan, but I dunno if it’s a good or bad thing.” Alfred suddenly chuckles.

“What?”

“Clubs is kinda like us. Intense King and Queen, reserved Jack to keep ‘em in line. Or try, at least.”

Arthur smiles. “I suppose that’s true.” He suddenly looks off to the side. “I have to go. We want to get one more training session in before we eat, and you need to sleep more. I love you.”

“I love you too.” Alfred yawns, then gives Arthur a soft pout. “I miss you.”

“I know. I miss you too.” Arthur reaches out, creates the illusion that he’s caressing Alfred’s cheek. “I’ll be home soon.”

“Promise?” Alfred asks, still petulant.

“Promise.” Arthur blows him a kiss, and then the image disappears.

~~~~~

There’s a dragon in the woods.

The knight who reports the news seems oddly unbothered, but Alfred is too focused on the information to notice. He starts to call for the Ace to dispatch to deal with the threat, but the knight clears her throat.

“The dragon wants you specifically.”

Alfred blinks. “How do you know?”

“That’s what it said.”

“It speaks?! Yao, do dragons speak?”

“There’s been no record of it,” Yao says, then shrugs, “but that doesn’t mean that it’s impossible.”

“Alright-”

“Bear in mind,” Yao continues, “that this might be some sort of trap. I would not advise you to go alone.”

“I’m not that much of an idiot,” Alfred says, standing.

“Hmm.”

The King ignores him and gestures to the knight. “You’ll lead us there. Get something to eat and drink after your journey but be ready to leave in half an hour.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.” The knight bows and leaves the room.

Alfred gathers a group of twenty knights, and the Ace. His cousin Madeline might not look the part of a fighter, but her strategy and ingenuity are enough to rival Arthur’s, and she’s incredibly proficient with her chosen weapons. Her eyebrows rise up at the news of a dragon, but she’s ready to go in minutes. Dragons are rare, but not unheard of. The last sighting had been a century ago, in Alfred’s great-grandfather’s time.

He can’t imagine what this one might want. Gold? Jewels? Surely it would just take them by force. A princess? Spades didn’t even have a princess. A treaty of some sort, then? Alfred doesn’t even know what sort of treaty a dragon might propose. All he does know is that so far, the great beast hasn’t been hostile.

The knight leads the way to where the dragon is laid out, in a clearing in the forest about half an hour’s march from the city. They hear it before it comes into view, its breathing rumbling through the air like a huge bellows.

Its scales are a vibrant, iridescent green, and shimmer like jewels in the sun. The dragon is about five times the size of a horse with a wingspan that covers half the clearing when it unfurls its wings. Though at first it’s wary, it seems to relax once more when it sees the Spades standard. The dragon’s head is framed by golden spikes which continue down its spine.

Beautiful, Alfred thinks. “I was told you wanted to speak to me,” he then says.

“I do, my King,” the dragon says, voice reverberating within Alfred’s head.

Alfred’s eyes narrow. Then he abruptly dismounts from his horse and steps forward. His suspicions are confirmed as the dragon smirks. “…Arthur?”

A purring rumble of affirmation comes from the dragon’s – Arthur’s – throat, and his head snakes forward. “What do you think?”

Alfred lets out a cry of amazement and rushes forward, hugging Arthur’s snout tightly. “Oh gods, Arthur! What- How- Did you get cursed?”

Arthur laughs, pressing his nose up against Arthur’s chest with force nearly enough to knock the King over. “This is the spell I was talking about a few nights ago. The spell we found in the ruins, the power that was seeping out.”

“Whoa…” Alfred runs a hand across Arthur’s cheek, marvelling at the texture of the scales. But how…?”

“The dragons are dwindling in numbers. Because of hunting and sickness and just time. They’re powerful, though. So much more powerful than we can imagine, especially with magic. They can fragment off a part of their souls and bond it with a human’s. The human then changes, becomes not quite human, not quite dragon, but able to shift into both. Able to further both legacies.” Arthur’s form shimmers and buckles, and a moment later Alfred has the familiar, slight figure of the Queen of Spades in his arms.

“Whoa… That’s really cool,” Alfred says, but he’s slightly distracted now that he’s got Arthur’s body in his hold to touch and caress.

Arthur chuckles again, knowing this, and leans up to press a kiss to the corner of Alfred’s mouth. “I’m home now, though.”

“Welcome home,” Alfred replies, beaming as he twirls Arthur around and then leads him back to the horses.

[drowning-in-dennor]

Answers

The gang's all here to answer your burning questions! Whether it’s the Oxenstiernas or the Wangs, or your favourite couples, they’re ready to face whatever inquiries you might have! [Written to celebrate two hundred and fifty followers.]

Question One: Literally anything about Bogden please uwu

Bogden: ...this isn’t really a question.

[Aleksander claps Bogden on the shoulder.]

Aleksander: Oh, whatever, just be glad we’re getting attention!

Bogden: Well, okay, but this is pretty weird. I mean, do they want to hear about my personal life, or my relationships, or -

[Aleksander muffles Bogden’s mouth with his hand.]

Aleksander: HIS MIDDLE NAME IS BORIS AND HIS BIRTHDAY IS THE THIRD OF MARCH ALSO HE REALLY LIKES YOGHURT AND HE REALLY LIKES ROSES AND ROSE-FLAVOURED STUFF OH AND HE HAS A PET BUNNY, IS THAT ENOUGH INFO?

Question Two: So what does the butter boy love doing the most with Henrik?

Stellan: I assume I’m ‘the butter boy’.

Henrik, sarcastically: Oh, no, I’m sure it’s Harald, or anyone but the one who stress-baked six hundred butter cookies after a final one day and mailed them to every person in the city!

[Stellan kicks Henrik under the table.]

Stellan: Well, to answer your question, I just love it when we cuddle while watching the sunset. We’re usually sitting outside, in this rocking swing we have in our front yard, watching the sky get painted all these pretty colours. It’s the most amazing feeling in the world to be able to see something so lovely with the person you care for the most.

[Henrik turns red.]

Henrik: Y-Yeah, those are really happy times. Holy fuck, I love you so much.

Question Three: What does Berwald like doing with Henrik?

Berwald: Fighting.

Henrik: Sometimes we just crack open a beer and talk about our husbands because we’re both awesomely lucky men. Then Stell has to pick me up the next morning while I’m hungover.

Berwald: Or we design some furniture together.

Henrik: We used to assemble IKEA stuff together until that time I screwed the legs of a chair on wrong and accidentally created a monster.

Question Four:��Harald, how do you feel about Henrik and Stellan’s relationship?

Harald: When they got together all those years ago, I was too young to remember much, but when I got older and they got sappier, it was pretty annoying. Like, I’d be having breakfast, and they’d be across the table cuddling or something.

Stellan: Were we that bad?

[Harald crosses his arms.]

Harald: Yes, you were that bad. When you started high school it got even more annoying, because you two would be fucking like rabbits while poor me was right next door.

Henrik: Oh, yeah! We were pretty loud, huh?

Harald: Now, though, they have their own house, so I don’t really care. I get a cool brother-in-law, and Stell has a husband. Works out for both of us.

Question Five, from @kyrakira: What wouwd Stewwan wike mowwe? a pwug ow a couch owo?

[Stellan falls off his chair.]

[Henrik slams his fist on the table and bursts into laughter.]

Stellan, climbing back onto his chair: First of all, I hate how I understand what you’re saying. Second of all, I’d say the plug.

Henrik: HOLY -

Stellan: Fucking a piece of furniture is not as pleasant as it sounds, kids. Don’t try it at home.

Question Six: To Agata: sweet mother, I cannot focus; slender Aphrodite has overcome me with longing for a girl, how not die?

Agata: Nothing you can do about it. You will look at your pretty girl, and you will have an internal heart attack.

[Tille giggles.]

Agata: You know how I met Tille? I was riding my bike, I saw her. She was pretty. I hit her with my bike.

Tille: You cried, you big kitty cat.

Agata: Yes, I cried. I was overwhelmed by your beauty.

Tille: Aww.

Agata: So, you see a pretty girl, you’re helpless to her charms. Too bad. I can’t help.

Question Seven: How close and warm are y'all nordicks? óuò

Henrik: ...I assume that means us?

[Harald cringes.]

Harald: What the hell is that cursed emoji?

Berwald: You mean emoticon.

Harald: Whatever.

Tino: To answer your question, we go over to each others’ houses for dinner every Friday! Sometimes we do it with Leon’s family, too.

Henrik: It’s really awesome! But when Stellan gets a little too competitive with Vicente, things can get, er, messy.

[Stellan throws up his hands.]

Stellan: The egg tart situation was one time, Henrik! ONE TIME!

Question Eight: To any of you, when was the last time you cried in front of a lot of people? 

Antonio: Gilbert made a face at me in the middle of a presentation, and I laughed so hard I cried.

Ludwig: Pochi...

[Ludwig buries his face in his hands.]

Ludwig: Pochi just tottered up to me and jumped in my lap. It was adorable.

Kiku: Then I cried because Pochi betrayed me for him.

Feliciano: Then I cried because Tama scratched me. I still have the scar.

Question Nine: Harald, out of everyone in your family, who's death would you find most disturbing and why?

[Harald’s eyes widen.]

Harald: Why would you ask something like that? What on earth is wrong with you? Any of their deaths would be disturbing, by the way. I don’t think I could ever bear to see any of them die before me.

[He sniffles and reaches in his pocket for a tissue.]

[Henrik jumps, scowling darkly.]

Henrik: Okay, who made Harald cry?

Harald: Wait —

[Stellan joins Henrik and raises a fist.]

Stellan: They’ll have hell to pay for this.

Harald: ...I love you guys.

Question Ten: Henrik and Stellan, how are your relationships with your parents?

Henrik: Oh, we get along just fine! They were a little shocked when I brought Stellan home for the first time, but not any more. 

Stellan: Between Henrik and Leon, mine have, well, resigned themselves to the fact that they most likely will not have biological grandchildren.

Henrik: We’re not sure if we’re gonna adopt just yet, but if we do, I’m sure our folks would be thrilled!

Question Eleven: To Al, Matt, Arthur, Francis, Ivan and Yao, what are your favorite memories about school?

Yao: Well, it has to be every prize-presentation ceremony at the end of each year. I went on stage every time!

Alfred: Yo, stop flexing, we know you’re a genius already.

[Arthur smiles, clearly lost in his memories.]

Arthur: My time at the school’s literature club was truly unforgettable. I was the president, if you must know, and I finally got an excuse to hide in the library all the time and read.

[Francis laughs.]

Francis: Ah, surely I thought your dearest memory would be of that one time you thought you were carrying around a copy of Pride and Prejudice, but was in reality holding a very saucy volume of Victorian er —

Arthur: HEY, ALFRED! You never told us about your favourite memory!

[Alfred jumps, accidentally smacking Yao on the shoulder. Yao gives him a withering glare.]

Alfred: Oh, yeah. It’s got to be when the soccer team won the last game of the semester, in my senior year! Dang, just thinking about it brings tears to my eyes.

Matthew: And speaking of competitions, when I got first place in the school’s public speaking competition in grade seven, I completely lost it.

Alfred: You screamed, then hugged me so tightly I saw spots afterwards.

Matthew: I’ll never forget how it felt to win something for the first time.

Francis: My time with Yao in our school’s cooking club was magnificent. Yao, my friend, do you remember the mooncake project?

[Yao perks up.]

Yao: Yes, when we experimented to see how to make mooncakes less oily? That was fun. I still use that recipe to make mooncakes now. 

Matthew: Hey Ivan, you haven’t talked yet. What’s your favourite memory?

Ivan: My favourite memory? Let me think, now...

[Ivan taps his chin.]

Ivan: Meeting you all at the very start of the year, that was amazing.

Alfred: Oh, you big teddy bear!

Arthur: We love you too.

[The six of them collapse in a group hug. The sound of chairs falling fills the room.]

Question Twelve: Out of everyone, who was a dropout and who finished college?

Alfred: I, uh, never went to college. Just decided to go “fuck the system” and started a food cart that I still wheel around the States. If you wanna see me, look for Stars and Stripes!

Matthew: Like Francis, I survived culinary school, but unlike Francis, I only got a degree in the pastry arts.

[Francis rubs his temples.]

Francis: None of you have ever experienced pain until you’ve been through egg day. Nine hundred eggs, all gone to waste because the Chef thought they were bad!

Arthur: I got my degree in English literature at Oxford, and to this day I’m still surprised that I managed to get in.

Yao: I have a degree in medicine, but it’s pretty useless since I run my diner now. By the way, check out Wang’s if you have the time!

[Ivan rubs the back of his head sheepishly.]

Ivan: I got arrested in the middle of college. Now, I just help my sister run her store!

Feliciano: Kiku and I both went to art school! I went to culinary school with Francis after that, though.

Kiku: My student loans haunt me to this day.

Ludwig: It surprises a lot of people, but I dropped out of college while Gilbert’s the one with the degree. 

Henrik: I went to a super-obscure course, namely the textile arts. Most people don’t even know it’s a degree!

Stellan: I got a degree in creative writing at John Hopkins in the US.

Berwald: Went to trade school.

Tino: I don’t really remember much about college. I just remember a lot of coffee, screaming and complaining.

Question Thirteen: What do you love most about yourself, Henrik, Berwald and Stellan? uwu

Stellan: The next person to use “uwu” will have their spleens removed.

Berwald: Very threatening.

Henrik: Well, what I wuv mowost abowouwut mwysewelf is howow I’m able to awways pwiss owoff my bowoyfewnd!

Berwald: What.

[Stellan gets up.]

Stellan: I love you, but say “uwu” again and you’re sleeping on the couch.

Henrik: Why, uwu?

Stellan: OH, THAT’S IT —

[Henrik flees from Stellan.]

Berwald: I love that I married a sane person.

Question Fourteen: Why do you like your best friend, Tino? 3:

Tino: Oh you mean Ed? Well, we’ve been friends since forever, first of all, and we’ve stuck together no matter what! He’s helped me with homework and bullies and all that stuff since we were kids, and I’ve done the same. Best of all, he encouraged me to ask Berwald out, and thanks to him I now have an awesome husband!

[Nearby, Eduard is sobbing.]

Eduard: I love you too!

Question Fifteen: If a=b, multiply by a to get a²=ab, subtract b² to get a²-b²=ab-b², factor them (a+b)(a-b)=b(a-b), cancel a-b, and since a=b the equation is now 2b=b or 2=1; why does math exist? @the Wangs

Leon: ...what?

Vicente: I think I lost half my brain cells just by reading that.

Ling: This is bringing back trauma from school, and that question doesn’t even make sense.

Yao: I’m too old for this crap.

Leon: But to answer your question, math exists because once upon a time some asshole decided to invent numbers and make our lives difficult.

Ling: Seconded.

Vicente: Now, if you’ll excuse us, we’re off to make dinner.

Question Sixteen: Stellan, what's the most difficult decision you've had to make to see your dreams come true?

Stellan: Ohhh, that’s a hard one. I’ve had to make a lot of sacrifices to become the person I am today. But if I had to pick, it’d be picking John Hopkins over Oslo Uni, and leaving Harald and Henrik behind. It was worth it, though, since now I’m happy and successful and I can’t have asked for more.

Harald: Aww, I love you too, you bastard.

Question Seventeen: Which family does Peter belong to?

Arthur: He lives with the Oxenstiernas, which is fine with both of us.

Tino: Artie couldn’t handle Peter after his parents passed, so it started out with Ber just babysitting him. But after the two of us got married, Arthur decided to put Peter up for adoption so he could become our son!

Niklas: It was a great decision.

Berwald: What?

Niklas: I mean, it was a terrible decision because now I’m stuck with an awesome — er, annoying — brother for the rest of my life.

Question Eighteen: What do you think is the best thing about your personality, Berwald?

Berwald: Uh...

[He stares off into the distance.]

Berwald: Uhhh...

Tino: Well, I love how everyone’s so intimidated by you, but you’re so snuggly and sweet in reality! 

[Berwald appears to stop breathing.]

Berwald: Thanks.

Question Nineteen: To Alfred, Gilbert and Henrik: what’s the dumbest yet smartest thing you’ve ever done?

Alfred: Dang, that’s a hard one. I’d say the time we threw a dictionary out of the car window, just because.

Gilbert: No, the time we put a block of frozen maple syrup into Matt’s showerhead. But then we got yelled at, so maybe not.

Henrik: How about when we tried to brûlée salt and set off the fire alarm?

[The three of them consider.]

Gilbert: Yoo, what about the frying pan thing?

Henrik: Oh, riiiiight, the frying pan thing!

Alfred: So basically, we put a frying pan on the heart for too long and it melted. Then it turned out that the frying pan was made with unsafe material! That’s kinda smart, I guess.

Question Twenty: Which one of you (anyone ig) has a choking fetish?

[The entire room erupts into chaos.]

Harald: OH MY GOODNESS!

Leon: Who the hell asked this!?

Alfred: You know what? Y’all need Jesus.

[Someone hits the camera and it switches off.]

...

A/N: Yes I know I’m very unfunny but I hope this was at least the tiniest bit fun to read

[allie-mcginn]

Who do you belong to? | Nolan Patrick Smut

A/N: requested by anon (also I’m on mobile, so I have no clue how to do ‘read more’ sorry) sorry for any errors!

THANK YOU to @lizzywow for helping me to finish this! Love you!!

Word count:2393

Warnings: SMUT!!! Don’t read if you’re under 18! Choking. Alcohol. Jealous!Nolan. Nolan grabs the readers wrist tightly, idk if that’s triggering.

——

So you and Nolan were out at a club in Philly, celebrating the teams win tonight over the Penguins. You had dressed up a bit more provocative than usual and were planning on having a fun night with Nolan. However, your night was not going as planned.

Nolan was standing at the bar with Ivan and Oskar, in no mood to be with you on the dance floor. Luckily, TK was in the mood to let loose and was more than willing to dance with you. As you and TK danced to the beat of the music, you couldn’t help but continuously glance in Nolan’s direction. Only to find him laughing at something Ivan said instead of looking at you. It may have been the alcohol talking, but you wanted nothing more than to send Nolan into a jealous rage. Simply because when Nolan is jealous, the sex is so good, you can’t walk straight for days afterwards.

So, you moved yourself closer to Travis, who was pretty drunk and just looking to have fun at this point. As a rather sexual song started playing over the speakers, you found yourself turning around and leaning into Travis’ embrace, your back pressed against his chest.

“Y/N, what do you think you’re doing?” Travis slurred in your ear.

“Dancing, what does it look like?” You said as if it was obvious while moving your body against his in a sinful manner.

TK just shrugged and pulled your body closer to his trying to match your rhythm. Both of you knew TK would never push things too far. Nolan was his best friend and he respected you and the relationship you two had, that didn’t mean he didn’t enjoy flirting with you to rile Nolan up occasionally. You and TK danced for a few songs, with you occasionally glancing over towards the bar to see if Nolan was reacting the way you wanted him to. You met his eyes as you moved your hips a bit more seductively and ran your hand through TK’s hair, Nolan just looked back at you with a rather unreadable expression. If how you were moving was not getting him jealous, then you’d have to step it up a notch. You pulled TK’s head down, moving your mouth to his ear.

“Time to turn it up a bit, Konecny.” He smirked and spun you around so your fronts were pressed together. You moved against each other, with his hands roaming around your body and yours tangled in his hair. He maneuvered one of his legs between yours, giving you something to grind against. He smirked at you and tilted his head in the direction of your rosy-cheeked boyfriend.

You looked over your shoulder to see Nolan holding his drink with white knuckles. His jaw was clenched and his pupils were blown in either anger or lust, you couldn’t tell, you didn’t care. You got the reaction you wanted.

You winked at him as he chugged the rest of his drink and stalked over to where you were, leaving Ivan and Oskar confused at his sudden departure. By the time Nolan reached you, you had turned your attention back to Travis, successfully ignoring the fact that your boyfriend was now standing behind you. You only acknowledged him once he grabbed you by the shoulder, forcing you to turn and face him.

“What do you think you’re doing, angel?” You smirked and reached up to run a hand through his hair.

“Dancing with Trav. What does it look like, babe?” You looked up at him with an innocent look playing across your face as he looked down at you in disbelief. By this time Travis has disappeared off the dance floor and over to Ivan and Oskar at the bar.

“You think it’s okay to dance like that with TK? I think you forgot who you belong to, angel.” He rasped in your ear and the hand he had on the small of your back moved lower and pulled you closer to his large frame. The grip you had on his hair tightened while your free hand found a home on his broad chest.

You smirked up at him, “Oh yeah? And who is that?”

You knew that you were making him mad by the way he gripped your hips with more pressure, but that just made the wetness in your panties even more noticeable to you. You could feel other people bumping into you and Nolan, obviously annoyed that the two of you weren’t dancing but instead just standing still in the middle of the dancefloor. Nolan just growled at your response, frustrated that you were playing games.

“Hmm, no answer? Guess I’ll just go find Trav and see if he’ll tell me who I belong to.” You remove yourself from Nolan’s hold and start to walk over to where the other Flyers players were. Nolan was quick to react, grabbing your wrist more aggressively than he should’ve. He yanked you back into his chest, grip not loosening in the slightest. Honestly, you’d only seen Nolan this aggressive on the ice and weren’t sure how to react; so, you froze.

“Oh, angel, you’re gonna regret that. We’re leaving. Now.” He dragged you out of the club into the chilly Philadelphia air, you struggled to keep up with his rapid pace as he walked back to your shared apartment.

“Nolan, please slow down. I’m in heels.”

However, your pleas fell upon deaf ears. The tall, brown-haired boy didn’t utter a single word in your direction until the two of you were in the privacy of your apartment. As soon as the door was locked, Nolan turned to you, eyes dark and filled with lust, he circled your frozen figure. He stopped behind you and moved your hair behind your ear, leaning closer to you.

“You’ve been playing a dangerous game all night, angel. One that you had no chance in winning.” His lips trailed along the exposed skin on your neck, your head instinctively leaning to the side to give him more access. You moaned in pleasure, finally getting what you had wanted all night long.

“Oh I think I've already won,” you panted out as Nolan continued to suck on your sweet spot. He bit down harshly on your soft skin to mark you, then pulled back to look you in your eyes, hands coming up to tangle themselves in your hair.

“What was that angel?” He grabbed your hair at the roots and pulled your head roughly to the side, the pain felt nice on your scalp. “You think that you get to dance with TK all night long and think you've won?”

“Oh Nolan,” you sighed, leaning into his hand pulling at your hair. “You can be such a stupid boy sometimes, you know?” You pushed Nolan up against the wall and bit his bottom lip before kissing him deeply, Nolans hands came down to grip your ass, fingertips pressed up under your skirt to feel your skin.

Next thing you knew, Nolan had picked you up by your thighs and pushed you up against the wall next to the door. The two of you make out against the wall, hands roaming as far as your position would allow. It wasn’t long before he walked you to the bedroom and sat down on the edge of the bed with you in his lap. You quickly got between his muscular legs and unzipped his jeans, which were certainly much tighter than when he had put them on earlier. You pulled his pants down his long legs, leaving him in just his boxer briefs. You look up at him with innocent eyes as you start to palm him over the strained fabric, Nolan watching your every movement, carefully. You placed an open-mouth kiss over his cock before pulling his briefs down his legs, letting his cock spring up and slap against his lower stomach.

Hesitantly, you reach out and wrap your hand around him and bring your tongue out to lick a broad strip along the underneath of his swollen cock. Nolan lets out a sigh of relief as you wrap your lips around his head, sucking slightly. You knew you were being a brat and teasing him much more than you should be, but you just couldn’t help it. You took as much of him into your mouth as you could, relaxing your throat as you take more of him deeper and deeper.

Nolan’s demeanor changed as soon as he felt himself hit the back of your throat, his cocky attitude had quickly made a comeback.

“Yeah, angel, that's right you're mine. You couldn’t suck anybody as well as you suck me. You may be a brat, but you’re always so good for me.”

You moan at his words and reach a hand up to start playing with his balls, Nolan lets out a guttural noise, throwing his head back in pleasure. You know then that even though he’s been acting cocky all night, you’ve still got him wrapped around your finger.

Nolan could tell he was getting close to his release, so he pulled you off of him and tossed you back onto the bed. He couldn’t seem to get your clothes off fast enough, you’re pretty sure he even tore your skirt. He quickly removed his shirt, leaving you both naked, before he attached his lips to your neck. Leaving hickeys on any available skin he could find, you would certainly struggle to cover these marks for the following days to come.

Nolan worked his way down your body, any skin his hands touched, his lips followed shortly thereafter. His fingers reached your dripping core, easily inserting two fingers inside you, curling up into your sweet spot, making you moan out. Your nails found a home in the skin of his back, scratching enough that you know there will be marks tomorrow. He isn’t quite ready to finish teasing you yet, but he knows that he won’t last much longer.

Nolan removes his fingers from your core and with his other hand, he opened your mouth so he could place the fingers that had just been in you into your mouth. You moaned at the taste of yourself on his fingers, sucking harshly while looking into Nolan’s eyes. He groans at the sight of you sucking on his fingers and moves to place your legs over his broad shoulders, while lining himself up to your core.

Nolan pushes in and bottoms out in one swift thrust, moaning at how tight you are. He gives you a moment to adjust before pulling out almost entirely, and thrusts back into you at a rough pace. Nolan sets his pace rough and deep, you can feel him hitting your cervix in the best way. You can hear Nolan telling you to keep your eyes on him, but you can’t seem to be able to even see anything as your eyes roll back. Nolan’s hands are holding onto your hips with bruising force, while you’re fingers leaving crescent-shaped marks in his biceps. You are close but you need more, something new, a new angle.

“Nol, please, please, fuck me from behind. Want you to pull my hair. Want to move with you.”

Nolan is quick to comply, pulling out of you and turning you on to your hands and knees. Sliding back into you, Nolan moans out, loving the feeling of bottoming out inside of you from this angle. He goes to start thrusting and you begin to move your hips in time with his thrusts, meeting him halfway. The sensation has you dropping your head down against the mattress, but Nolan is quick to wrap his hand in your hair, pulling you up so your back is flush against his chest. He removes his hand from your hair and wraps it around your neck, squeezing until he could feel you start to struggle to breathe slightly.

You brought a hand up to wrap around Nolan’s wrist, moaning as he flexes his fingers even more. You were too caught up in the change in the angle and his hand around your throat to even notice his other hand moving down to rub the bundle of nerves in between your thighs. The sensations quickly became too much and you couldn’t even find the words to let Nolan know you were cumming.

He released his grip on your throat, letting you fall forward on to the bed, as he fucks you at a relentless pace through your high while chasing his. You turn your head to the side to look back at him as he fucks you.

“Yeah, baby, that’s it. Use me. Show me who I belong to.” you rasp out, voice all scratchy from your vocal cords being restricted.

Nolan could never get enough of your dirty talk, especially when your voice was raspy from either him fucking your throat or choking you. So, hearing you coax him towards his high, sent him over the edge. He stilled as he came inside of you, both of you moaning at the feeling of his cum filling you up.

“Fuck, angel, look at you. Filled with my cum, you look so pretty like this. All mine.”

Pulling out of you slowly, admiring the sight of his cum mixed with yours dripping out of your swollen cunt. Nolan collapsed next to you and you both laid there for a second before he got up to get a towel to clean you off. Nolan rolled you over to lay on your back so he could clean the mess between your legs. He tossed the towel into the hamper then crawled into bed with you, pulling you into his arms, pressing a sweet kiss to your lips.

“You okay, angel? Not too rough?” Nolan was always very tender with you after sex.

You nodded and murmured a soft “yes” as you pressed a kiss into his chest as he rubbed his hand up and down your back, holding you close to him.

“Angel, that was amazing but please don't ever dance like that with TK again.” Nolan whispered into your hair.

“Next time make sure I don't have to find somebody else to dance with first.” you said while smirking up at him.

“I think that can be arranged.” He kissed your forehead and just as your about to fall asleep, Nolan asked, “Wait, what the fuck did you mean by ‘you can be such a stupid boy?’”

[grailacademy]

Welcome to Grail Academy - Chapter Twenty-eight: Season of the Witch

“There’s going to be hell to pay, I can guarantee you that much.” Esmerelda reapplied her lipstick in the reflection of Bernard’s sunglasses, who strained his neck down to meet her level. Nico looked up at the intimidating monument that stood as a symbol of political power in Calicem, city hall, as his leader fixed her makeup. “Okay, I know I’m Mister Bad Idea, but...this seems like a REALLY bad idea,” He looked back to his teammates, anxious, “Are you sure you can pull this off, babe?”

Esmerelda flipped her hair and spun around, giving Bernard the signal that he no longer had to hunch down and act as a human mirror for her. “Darling, would I have worn my Ruby Red lipstick instead of my Cherry Blossom lipstick if I didn’t believe we could do this?” Nico looked past her to his partner for an answer, but Bernard only shrugged. “I guess not…” Nico cringed to himself as the words escaped his mouth, and adjusted the sunglasses on his own face. Esmerelda swiftly popped the collar of her trench coat, snapped her fingers, and the boys followed her as they hiked up the marble stairs that led to city hall.

There was plenty of hustle and bustle going on in the lobby, interns rushing to grab coffee for disrespectful supervisors, tired businessmen quietly arguing with each other about various political endeavours, unamused security guards standing watch near the front desk, where one was currently trying his luck at flirting with the receptionist. She giggled as the security guard spouted some terrible pick-up line, until a clawed hand slammed down on the desk’s counter. Esmerelda tapped her manicured fingers against the counter impatiently, with Bernard and Nico standing stoic with their arms crossed behind her. “Am I interrupting?” she quipped, and the security guard quickly backed away towards his coworkers. She stared daggers at him until he bumped into the back of the wall, at which point she turned back to address the receptionist. “I’m sorry, ma’am. How can I help you?”

“We’re here for the birthday party. We’re the dancers, yes? You’ve been told?” Suddenly, Esmerelda articulated through a foreign accent, keeping her scowl a permanent expression. “Birthday…? I’m sorry, I don’t have anything like that on the schedule.” The receptionist nervously flipped through a binder as she stuttered her apology.

“What!? Do you know who we are? We are the Toe Tappers! We are booked years in advance!” She roared and spun around to look at her teammates, who both shook their heads in disappointment. Bernard repeated Esmerelda’s exclamation at the woman behind the desk, “Years.”

“I-I truly am sorry, ma’am, but I don’t have you on the visitor list! What are your names?”

Esmerelda pointed a finger at each of the boys, and herself, shouting, “Gunther, Gustav, and Greta! I cannot believe this. The governor calls us all the way from Atlas and he does not even bother to put us on the list. This is unforgivable!” Nico and Bernard chimed in together, “Unforgivable.”

She snapped her fingers, and Nico hefted a boombox onto his shoulder. “You will be punished for this. You will experience the full power of the Toe Tappers rage!” With the press of a button, the boombox started to loudly play techno dance music, and the trio began to vogue with such intensity and aggression that the other people in the lobby actually began to back away, for fear of getting caught in the crossfire of body movements. Frantically, the receptionist dialed a number on the front desk scroll, and stammered a plea for help. “P-please, they’re dancing at me! It’s terrible dancing, but it’s very scary!” Whoever was on the other line chortled hysterically and hung up, and the woman stood up. Laughing nervously, she waved the dancers toward the elevator. “M-my apologies, I must have made a mistake. Yes, here you are,” she tapped a finger on the visitor list, where none of their fake aliases were written, “the Toe Tappers! Go right ahead, the governor’s office is on the fourth floor.” The three of them stopped their angry dancing abruptly, and the music paused. Esmerelda flipped her hair and huffed at the woman, before snapping her fingers again and strutting to the elevator with Bernard and Nico following behind. “Hmph, I should think to make a complaint about the reception service in this place!” She called out as her heels clicked against the stone floors. The three of them filed into the elevator, and once the doors closed, they all let out a collective sigh of relief.

“I can’t believe that worked, merde…” Bernard mumbled and pulled his sunglasses off. Esmerelda chuckled, “I was the head of the drama club at my elementary school. You’re looking at the lead actress in our class’s production of Othello~” She gave a small wink to them, and both Bernard and Nico gave her applause for her acting. 

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

Later that night, the wheels of the train squealed across the tracks as orange sparks shot out from between the metal, slowing the cars to a stop at the station. Ivan and Beau hugged before fist-bumping, standing at the platform. “Where are you going for the break?” Ivan asked, zipping up his winter coat. Beau turned around to look at Vert, who was trying (without success) to get comfortable on a bench where he was trapped by a jetlagged tourist snoring against his shoulder. “Me and Vert are gonna visit his brothers for the holidays! It’s about time he introduced his girlfriend to his family.”

Beau smiled when she saw Iris approaching them, her giant suitcase rolling on its metallic wheels as she dragged it along. Along with this, she had a duffle bag hanging off her shoulder, a backpack, a second suitcase under her arm, and a guitar case strapped on top. She did her best to carry all her luggage, but it only took a small crack between tiles for her to tumble over and become buried in a pile of baggage. She thrusted her arm upwards and climbed out of the prison of suitcases, and explained, “I have to meet my family back home for the town festival. We always perform in the parade, and they would kill me if I missed it.” Ivan and Beau helped Iris stack her luggage on a trolley, and Ivan sat down on the stack like a throne. “I’m staying in Calicem, I got suspended again so I have to clean all the graffiti off the bathroom stalls at school. It’ll probably take me the rest of the semester.” He pouted, and Iris gave him a supportive pat on the back.

The train conductor shouted from a small window, announcing the departure of the train, and Vert wiggled his way off the bench and headed to one of the cars. “Well, that’s our ride” Beau said, looking between her friends. Vert motioned for his girlfriend to hurry onto the train car, and she trotted into his arms, where they both waved goodbye as the train pulled out of the station. Soon it was Iris’s turn to say goodbye, then waves of other classmates. It was almost midnight when Ivan waved goodbye to team SAND as they jumped onto the back of the last train car, calling out “See you next semester!”

The station was empty. Ivan was dreading the long, cold walk back to campus, and he dreaded the janitorial duties professor Kismet had in store for him even more. He sighed and stuffed his hands into his pockets, trudging through the snow back home. That is, until a low rumbling sound resonated through the empty streets of the city. It got louder and louder, Ivan could feel it growling in his chest. Then, a bright light, sweeping over the street like a tidal wave. It passed over and overwhelmed his eyes and ears, and then all he could see was white.

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

Beau slept quietly with her head against the window of the train, resting as the skyscrapers and office buildings rushed by. Vert threw his parka over her lap to keep her arm, and smiled. He couldn’t hear the rumbling over the vibrations of the train, the rickety wheels bouncing on the tracks. The bright light that shone like a beacon didn’t stir Beau from her slumber, but it was the only warning that Vert identified before everything went white.

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

Iris flipped to a clean page in her notebook, and began to write down notes to an in-progress song. She chewed on the eraser of her pencil as she thought of lyrics, stuck on trying to find a word that rhymes with catacomb. The sudden growing light blinded her, making her drop the pencil from her mouth to try and shield her eyes.

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

Team BIVI awoke in their dorm room, tucked under the blankets of their beds, wearing their pajamas from the night before. They all yawned and looked at each other, confused. “...Huh. Weird.” Ivan stated, then shrugged and rolled over to go back to sleep.

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

If you never spoke to him, Buck would look like just another ne’er-do-well. Just another ghost roaming the city, just another reminder to be grateful for what you have. He trudged through the streets of Calicem with nothing but old black jeans, a stolen brown corduroy coat, a dirty white shirt, and a backpack carrying his essentials. A stack of thick envelopes held together by a rubber band, a hunting knife gifted to him by his father, a journal marked up with a collection of theses and failed chemistry experiments, a rusted thermus housing the spare change that constituted as his life savings, all bounced around in the pack dangling off his shoulder. He was often seen scribbling away in his notebooks, with his knees pulled close to his chest as a makeshift desk to write upon. That is, when he wasn’t pedaling furiously on his bike to breach hills and potholes in the road as he made deliveries. He kept himself as well-hidden at night as he did the names of his father’s business associates. He understood the dangers of being an errand boy for the local kingpin, the secrets he’d have to keep, and he’d learned to survive. During the day: on street corners, in parks. At night: under bridges, in alleys. Just another ne’er-do-well. Nobody would suspect a thing.

All Scarlet could think about as he and his team packed their things and loaded them into the back of a truck, was the fact that Buck had a head start on packing. Because his room was already empty. His journals already taped shut inside an unmarked cardboard box, his photos already mailed to his father under an anonymous address, his clothes already folded neatly at the bottom of Scarlet’s duffel bag, a hidden momento of times long passed.

Yorick steadied his breathing, in through the nose, out through the mouth. He stood in the center of the factory floor, now empty and hollow. There was a line of unmarked trucks waiting just outside the perimeter of the factory’s fence, vibrating from the unified low rumble of their engines as the drivers stared at the building in anticipation. Scarlet watched with the rest of the workers as the factory suddenly ignited in fire, blue flames spitting from the top of the smokestacks and shattering the windows in an explosion of glass and rubble. Sable, who stood behind her faithful militia near another truck with Hari in the driver’s seat, threw a cloak over her shoulders and lifted the hood up. Only moments later, Yorick emerged from the brush of the surrounding field and wiggled through a hole in the fence, giving the crowd a thumbs up. Sable bellowed, “Let’s move out, while there’s still daylight.” She stepped into the truck and, one by one, each vehicle vacated the premises in a line, followed by the last truck with RYSQ riding inside. “I have to admit,” Rettah commented, sliding her hand onto Yorick’s thigh, which made him shiver with excitement, “you do make cleanups a lot faster.” She giggled, and Yorick laughed shyly along with her, as Scarlet watched the burning facility crumble and grow farther and farther away in the distance. He resisted rolling his eyes at the not-so-subtle flirting, instead tuning them out and focusing on the passing trees. Buck would have liked this.

[leopardfang15]

My Charlastor Child Bio

Alright so, I can’t draw, so I’m gonna have to use the art of words to describe my boy. Kinda sucks cuz I always see these cool reference sheets and I’m sitting over here like “aww... I wish I could make those.” But hey, if anyone is interested in drawing one for me as a commission, I’d be interested in talking and working some prices out. Nothing too crazy, just a simple thing. Fair warning though, I’ve never commissioned anything before so... there’s that.

Now, to business.

Name: Dominic

Nickname: Dom. He is well aware of all the sexual jokes that can be made from his nickname, he’s heard them all and to be honest the lack of originality is the most annoying thing at this point.

Appearance: Physically, he’s inherited the blonde hair and pale skin from his mother. In his early teen years he wore it long enough to be in a braid but after awhile he was like ‘fuck it, too much work’ and wears it short as an adult. Dom’s very athletic and is actually a knight in Hell so he has a more muscular build. He’s a tall and red eyed boi like his dad and he gets the dial in his eyes that his dad has when he gets pissed off.

Another thing Dom inherited from his dad was his sense of style. While maybe not as flashy he is dressed formally when he’s not working out. (He’s not about to do push-ups or go at it with a punching bag in a suit you maniacs). Dom typically wears a long coat and works out by himself because he also inherited a fluffy deer tail from his father. Also like his Radio Dad, he does not like having his tail touched by random people.

His most notable feature would be the black, feathered wings on his back. That angel DNA from Charlie’s side has finally appeared. Dom’s got a wingspan of 12 feet and he knows how to use them.

Personality: He’s a fairly laid back joker. Whereas his parents are theatrical as fuck, he’s more of an observer than a performer. Of course his parents have taught him to sing and dance he usually does that alone to entertain himself or with other family members. Dom also enjoys playing small pranks around the hotel. He’s not one for outlandish ‘pretending to be dead’ or tripping someone down the stairs type pranks but more like sticking a deer crossing sign to his dad’s door.

He’s really family oriented and cares a lot about them. I do imagine him having siblings but I don’t have plans to make anymore but there are plenty already out there. #bestbigbrother. Dom is definitely a Mama’s boy. He will run errands for her and allow himself to be pulled into a dance or a song in public for her. Another fact about Dom is he is in fact an adrenaline junkie. His favorite activity is flying and he does things like jump from a 300 foot building for the sake of the rush.

Background

Childhood: Little Dominic was a tiny ball of energy, following both parents around like a puppy. Always asking what they were doing and wanting to help, if he could sit still long enough that is. Some of his favorite memories of his parents was his mother teaching him to dance and roughhousing with his dad. (Hard to imagine the Radio Demon wrestling with a child but he’d let him win and then play dead to see if he’d get an amusing reaction out of Dom. Dom would usually try to get his dad to ‘come back to life’ before he’d smile and say “I guess I get your stuff now” and grab one of his dad’s bow ties or something)

One of his favorite things to do was give his parents a heart attack climb up high places and try to teach himself to fly. Eventually Charlie gets Husk to teach Dom how to fly. He’s not able to do much until his wings fledge because before then he just has these two limbs full of fluffy and useless down. Fledging was a nightmare because because when his feathers came in he was super itchy but couldn’t scratch them without possibly breaking his feathers. He was absolutely miserable for a week before they finally came in. Dom eventually grew in Husk and he started looking forward to the little ankle biter to come running up to him saying, “can we practice flying now, Uncle Husk?”

Teenager: Ah, teenage rebellion. Dom went through that. In an effort to help him deal with all his energy (and keep him from sneaking out) Charlie got Vaggie to teach him to use a sword. But a teenage boy that likes to explore cannot be kenneled. He liked exploring Pentagram City, especially by air and seeing what knew place he could discover.

He eventually found places he could go to if he wanted to avoid his parents. If he wanted to avoid Charlie he’d go to some of the sketchy fight clubs in town and he actually learned how to fight there. If he wanted to avoid Alastor he’d go to some of the clubs that played heavier rock or metal. He typically wanted to avoid his dad more. While Charlie typically scolded him for doing dangerous aerial stunts but Dom could tell that was more about a worry for his safety. With Alastor, Dom felt like he just didn’t quite fit the mold his father expected of him. He saw a lot of differences between his father and himself personality wise. He eventually, more or less convinced himself that he was a disappointment to his dad and distanced himself from him. Alastor, figuring it was mostly just teenaged angst, just let Dom have his space and figured he’d come to him when he was ready.

Adult: Dom has mellowed out by now. He’s calmed down and is more comfortable in his own skin and with himself. He has carried a love of rock and roll and martial arts from his teenaged years into adulthood. Though I’m not sure how exactly yet, he has been knighted by his grandfather Lucifer. If a demon is avoiding a meeting with the Devil himself, Lucifer will pay Dom to find said demon and bring them to him. He’s kind of like his grandfather’s personal bounty hunter but does not take requests from anyone else. When he’s not chasing down demons for Grandpa Luci he works security at his mother’s hotel.

Dom’s relationship with his father is tense and very awkward at this point. He doesn’t hate his dad it just feels like the years of practical separation makes him feel like he has no way to relate to his dad. Interacting with him is usually short conversations like “How was your day?” “Good, how about you?” “Good.” (I got pleanty of ideas for attempts at rekindling their relationship)

Random Facts

His choice of transportation is obviously flying. Not only is it faster than driving but to comfortably fit in a car he has to retract his wings which isn’t very comfortable.

People seem to always want to touch him. His wings, his tail, his biceps and he does not like it. He’s a bit like his dad with his aversion to touch though that only applies to non-family members. If he doesn’t know you, please don’t touch him.

He doesn’t like overly crowded places because of people touching his wings. If he ever decides to go to a bar, or he has some kind of royal gathering he has to go to he has to think about what he’s willing to put up with; strangers touching his wings or the discomfort of hiding them away?

He has a one-handed sword that he can summon in a fight. It’s one of the few bits of more advanced magic he knows. Whereas some demons, like his parents will use magic in a fight, he’ll just punch a guy through a wall.

He can sing, though he doesn’t do it in public. By himself or around his family is fine. He typically sings rock and my Headcanon for his singing voice is Ivan Moody from Five Finger Death Punch.

His wings are a great indicator of his emotions. If he’s feeling anxious or scared he’ll pull them in close to his body and if he’s happy or excited his wings will flap a little. His feathers also change themselves. If he gets angry or he’s ready to fight his feathers will actually harden and sharpen.

He can launch his feathers like projectiles and he can also slice through plates of steel when the feathers on his wings turn to blades.

He has taken up smoking in his later teen years. Per his mother’s request, he doesn’t do it inside the hotel.

When he was eleven his father taught him how to shoot a rifle. As an adult, he sometimes goes down to a shooting range to practice.

He likes to show affection with his wings. Ex: putting a wing around someone for comfort, wrapping his wings around someone when he hugs them or if he’s taking a nap with a sibling he’ll wrap them up in a feathery cacoon.

He usually sleeps on his stomach. If he lays on his back for too long his wings cramp up. He’ll take short naps on a couch in the lobby but if he’s going to be for the night he’ll lay on his stomach.

He knows how to braid hair. His mother taught him because he liked to play with her hair. It’s something he does when they’re just relaxing and he’ll braid his siblings hair if they ask.

He can take passengers when he’s flying. He flies targets to his grandparent’s castle and he’s flown his mother places. It obviously depends on the demon but on average he can take two to three adult demons on a flight with him.

Well, let me know what you think. I’d be willing to role play with Dominic if anyone is interested. If enough people want it, I’ll make a side blog for Dominic and Hazbin Hotel roleplaying specifically.

Also, @the-radio-princess I have two Charlastor fics in the works. One I was working on before you ripped out my heart so it will be in the EverythingsOkay!AU where Charlie ran off to New Orleans with Jaimie. The other one is from one of my ideas from my Charlastor Headcanons post.

[a-brainstorming-fangirl]

The Diner (Frank Castle x Reader) Part 1

Fandom: Marvel (Netflix´s The Punisher)

Characters: Frank Castle

Word Count: 1,550

Warnings: cursing and just a bit of violence (a bitttt)

A/N: I decided to start a short fic with Frank Castle because of the eternal hiatus The Punisher series has… :(

And because I love this character so much.

Anyways, enjoy it and feel free to tell me if you want me to continue it. :)

Frank screamed as he woke up for the third time in the night. The same nightmare about his family. ”They’re dead.” he thought. ”They’re all gone now.” He stayed completely still for a couple of minutes without knowing what to think about. He turned and looked at the clock; 2:47 am. He sighed and went to the bathroom to wash his face. He then dressed and left his apartment. The streets were almost silent, it was New York after all. He promised to never go back to the city, but he got nowhere else to go. He was dammed everywhere he went. In this city, he couldn’t establish any relationship of any kind. He would not commit the same mistakes, not again…

He stopped after walking a few streets at a local 24-hour diner for some coffee. There wasn’t a lot of people anyways. He sat on the furthest table, at the corner, where he could see everything. An old lady got out of the kitchen, tying up her apron. ”One second, honey.” she smiled at Frank when she saw him. ”Coffee?” ”Um… Yes, please.” he cleared his throat. Frank took off his hood and hat, feeling more comfortable. The lady got back to the kitchen and returned with a cup and the coffee pot. Frank observed the lady’s name embroidered on her shirt as she poured his coffee, ”Mary”. ”Thank you, ma'am.” Frank said. ”Leave the coffee, please.” ”Okay, honey.” Mary smiled again and left him the coffee pot. ”I’ll be there if you need me.” she said and pointed to the bar. She then left.

Frank sipped from his cup as he looked around and noticed there was a couple talking on a table, fooling around. ”Drunk.” he thought. He also noted a man reading the paper and eating some eggs a couple of tables away from him.

Minutes passed and Frank was still there, sitting and drinking his coffee while thinking about his nightmares. He was so invested in his thoughts that he never noticed when the couple and the man left the place. Mary wasn’t at the bar either. ”The kitchen.” he figured.

Suddenly, a girl entered the diner. She wore a big black coat and long heeled black boots that made her walk funny. Her long hair was a bit of a mess as it covered the majority of her face and she carried a big bag around her tiny shoulder. She looked tired. She sighed when she sat at the bar not too far from Frank. The girl took a few coins from her bag and walked towards an old jukebox. She picked a song and clicked the play button. ”There Is a Light That Never Goes Out” started playing and the girl returned clumsily to her chair at the bar. She looked around and stopped when she saw Frank. ”Hey, what time is it?.” She called quickly. She got no response from Frank. He was still lost in his nightmare. ”Hey, you! Big nose.”

Frank shook his head and looked back at the girl. ”Huh?” he mumbled, confused. ”I said, what time you have? The girl said slowly. Frank looked at his clock, 3:54 am. “So?” She asked rudely. “3:54” Frank answered without looking at her. “Shit.” The girl cursed and turned back.

Mary got out of the kitchen clicking her pen and grabbing a small notebook from her apron. “What can I get-“ she stopped when she saw the girl. “Y/N! Hi.” She smiled and put the notebook and pen back into the apron. “It’s been a while.” “Hey, Mary.” The girl smiled.

Frank listened to the conversation, trying to distract himself from his thoughts. “Damn, how old is she?” He thought when he saw how the girl smiled at Mary. She looked too young beside the old lady. He decided to glance at the girl again. Her legs were crossed and that made her coat open a little. Frank observed her clothes; her long boots, the fishnet tights she wore, and a short red skirt. ”Poor girl.” Frank thought.

“What can I do for you, sweetie?” asked Mary. “Do you want some coffee?” “Yes, please.” Y/N smiled. ”Do you have a phone I could use, please?” she asked. ”You can use mine, sweetie.” Mary said and gave Y/N her phone. ”I’ll be in the kitchen if you need me.” ”Thanks,” the girl said.

Mary looked at Frank and noticed he hadn’t finished his coffee yet. “You need anything, honey?” She asked Frank. “I’m good.” He nodded. ”I’ll be in the kitchen if you need me.” She said and left.

Frank watched how the girl waited for Mary to leave. She quickly dialled a number on the phone. “C’ mon…” she waited. ”Please answer.” The jukebox played another song and Frank began to suspect that something was wrong with the girl. ”Hey- Hey,” The girl said relieved. ”Jen! I need your help.”

Frank looked at how the girl began to move her leg, nervous and how she fidgeted with a coin she took from her pocket. ”I just need a place to stay for a bit” she continued. ”What? No!” she faked a laugh. ”I’m not trying to leave, I just…” She suddenly stopped fidgeting. ”What did Ivan tell you?” Frank listened closely. ”It’s not what you think!… They will not come after you. I-” she sounded like she wanted to cry. ”Please, I just need your help… Hello?… Jen… Jen?” she hanged up. ”Shit!” she cursed. Frank just observed her. He began to feel bad for her. ”In what has she put herself in?” he thought. Y/N closed her eyes and sighed, she massaged the sides of her forehead, trying to think.

Frank was about to ask Y/N if she was okay when Mary came back with the girl’s coffee. ”There you have it.” Mary’s smiled faded when she saw the girl. ”Are you okay, sweetie?” ”Yeah, it’s nothing.” she sighed and faked a smile. ”Thanks for the phone, Mary.” She returned the phone. ”You’re welcome.” Mary said suspiciously.

”Who was Ivan?” Frank thought. ”Was he the girl’s boyfriend?”

The sound of a car could be heard from afar. Seconds later, it stopped at the front of the store, it was a black Range Rover. Two big men dressed in black came out of the car. After them another came out, he was younger and skinnier. He was the only one that entered the place.

”Don’t get in the way.” Frank thought. ”You have no business here.”

”Y/N!” he said loudly and with a big smile. ”Ivan’s been waiting for you.” ”Hello, Vlad.” the girl said nervously.

”Don’t get in the way.” Frank thought again.

Frank and Mary were just watching. Frank now knew that it had something to do with the Russian Mafia.

”Come on, let’s go.” Vlad said while opening the door.

”Don’t get in the way.” Frank thought.

”I’m not going back.” the girl firmly said. ”Don’t start.” Vlad’s smile was gone now. ”Don’t make me come for you.” ”I said no.” Y/N challenged Vlad.

”Wrong answer, kid.” Frank thought.

Vlad called his thugs and they entered the diner. He walked towards the girl and took her by the hair. ”No! Please don’t hurt her.” Mary said. Vlad took out his gun and pointed Mary. Frank immediately stood up. ”Hey, hey, hey!” Frank yelled at Vlad. He now pointed at Frank. ”No! Vlad! Leave them alone!” Y/N begged.

Mary was crying now, with her hands up in the air. Frank just stood up there. ”Who are you?” Vlad asked Frank. ”You want this bitch?” he pointed Y/N with the gun while pulling her hair with the other hand. ”Its gonna cost you.” ”Just leave her alone.” Frank said seriously. Vlad laughed at him. ”Well, you need to leave… Before I put a bullet in your stupid face.” he said. ”Don’t hurt them, please. I-” Y/n began to cry. ”Let’s go. I’ll go with you.” When Vlad heard that he let go of her. He put down his gun and laughed. ”You see, baby? It didn’t cost you anything.” he said and kissed Y/N ’s cheek. ”Boys, get her to the car.” One of the men took the girl by her arm, but she shook him off. She then grabbed her bag and left with them. Not without first looking at Frank directly to the eyes. She didn’t know why he tried to save her. Nobody had done that before.

Frank saw how the men pushed violently Y/N into the car. He closed his fists with force.

”I’m sorry to bother you, ma'am.” Vlad said to Mary, who was still in shock and took out a bunch of bills. ”For the inconvenience.” He winked at her and left the bills in the bar. He then walked towards Frank.

”You don’t want that kind of girl, trust me.” he whispered to Frank. "We have what you want.” He said and left a card on his table. “Come and see it for yourself.” He laughed and then left.

Frank just stood there breathing heavily. He then looked down at the little card Vlad left on the table. “Lola´s Club”, he read. His fist hardened again.

Hope you like it :)

Want to request?

[ivan-rakitic]

a šejan one shot!🐣

of course half of them were already drunk. he was fifteen minutes late and as soon as he walked in, he noticed luka and vida making a show.

dejan shook his head as he approached the bar. suba and mandžo only nodded in a greeting while luka and domagoj, who were singing and dancing drunkenly, didn't even notice him. he guessed the youngsters were either in another club or back in hotel.

"look who decided to finally show up!" he heard raketa yell and instantly rolled his eyes, but smiled at him. he was about to flip ivan off but a loud scream interrupted him.

suddenly he felt someone jump on him, wrapping their arms and legs around his body like a koala.

fucking drunk idiot.

dejan stumbled as he tried to gain back his balance and put his hands on the man's thighs to support him. he could recognize that colongne and those curls anywhere in the world. he didn't know whether he wanted to hold šime forever like this or scream at him for being so reckless.

"nonono! abort, abort! put me down, i'm - i'm - gonna pass out!" šime loudly announced, his fingers still gripping dejan's shirt tightly as he tried to get dejan to put him down.

dejan felt panic rise in his chest and he slowly let šime stand, his hands immediately grabbing his shoulders. he was aware of the frown he had as he examined šime's expression.

"are you crazy? how much did you drink? are you okay?" šime slowly lifted his head, his hooded eyes staring into dejan's as a loopy smile formed on his face. he looked so vulnerable and sweet at that moment, his heart wanted to jump out of his chest. wow when did a small crush become this?

"i missed you and i am sorry for jumping on you and it's domo's fault." the younger man pouted  at him. dejan shut his eyes, pretending to be mad at him when in reality he had to take a moment to collect himself.

"are you guys mental? you know he's a lightweight! he could've died here and you would have laughed it off!" he turned to raketa and perisic who seemed to be watching the two of them with mischievous smiles.

perisic shrugged. "well, now he has his dejo, doesn't he?" he asked staring right into dejan's eyes, while raketa tried to contain his laugh.

"who has dejo?" šime stopped dejan from answering them for the second time that night. he turned around, meeting the adorable sad and confused expression on šime's face.

"you do, duh." raketa replied before dejan could think of a reply. for fuck's sake, what is happening?

"whatever, let's go. i'm taking you back to your hotel room." dejan couldn't take it anymore. he had to get out of there, needed to clear his head but he knew he couldn't leave šime  alone. so he grabbed his hand and pulled him along.

the feelings were messing with his head. he was angry at šime for drinking but also worried as hell. he was panicking because he realized that he cares for him more than he thought he did, in a romantic way. he was melting inside from all the affection he was feeling for šime but he felt like someone threw a bucket of ice cold water at him.

the walk to their shared hotel room was, thank god, short but full of šime's random babbling. dejan tuned him out, he didn't have time to listen to his friend talking about his favorite pair of shoes. 

as soon as he entered the room, he helped šime to the bed. it was all too intimate; šime grabbed his hand as he moved from the bed, wanting to leave šime alone so he could sleep. dejan turned to him, his patience thin.

he had no idea what was going on with him; his heart was beating fast because šime kept finding ways to touch him, he was on the verge of shouting at him for being so annoyingly drunk, he was so tired from everything.

"what?" dejan didn't mean to sound so harsh. his eyes met šime's bambi ones and he felt his expression soften. he looked so vulnerable and open, dejan wanted nothing but to hold him.

"would you...would you lie with me?" the way that he spoke was so quiet and shy like he was talking to a scared animal but at the same time he himself sounded so unsure and scared. fuck.

"why? what's up?" dejan was confused. was šime trying to prank him?

"i just... i feel safe in your arms, you know? like everything bad in the world is gone and- and... i would give everything away just to be in your arms." šime replied casually. how could he -why was he- hell. dejan couldn't believe his ears. šime told him that in a way that he would talk about weather. 

"are you serious?"

"of course i'm serious, dejan. not that i would've admitted it while sober, no. that or the fact that i'm in love with you- oops." a small giggle escaped šime's lips.

dejan almost choked on his tongue. did he just? his drunk best friend just said he would never admit that he was in love with him.

"i mean i'm not ashamed of it. i just- sometimes, you avoid me like plague and it hurts. i don't know why you do that. sometimes you let me sleep in your lap and you play with my hair. i want you to play with my hair forever." šime kept going.

dejan felt like his heart was going to burst.

"scoot over." what was he doing?!

"why?" šime replied.

"i'm gonna play with your hair." dejan heard himself say. he was gonna break his own heart. but the smile šime gave him was worth more than a billion heartbreaks. he sat on the bed, his back leaning against the headboard and šime's head in his lap. dejan watched him close his eyes as he ran his fingers through the thick curls. he looked so content and happy.

"if only i was brave enough to say this when i'm sober." he heard šime whisper.

"tomorrow." he whispered back as he kissed his forehead. as he watched šime fall asleep, he promised himself that he would love and protect this man with everything he has even if he denies it all tomorrow.

(a/n: so i've been trying to finish it for like two weeks? and i got mad and finished it in 20 mins and that's why it's so shitty! this is like before-school-present and i love you all)

[croatian-magician]

Who you gonna call?

Pairings: Rakidric, hints of Sejan

Summary: When Ivan bought a new house, he didn’t expect it to be haunted, just like he didn’t expect the ghost living in it to be so kind and sweet…

Word count: 3822

Notes: Or another AU nobody asked for. Also, I’m done looking for serious titles.

When he bought the house, Ivan didn’t think much of it. He needed a place to stay close to his new club and this one was the cheapest of the area. Being a young, promising footballer, he knew he wouldn’t stay there his whole life, or at least he hoped so. Hence why he chose this place without caring much.

He should have known something was weird when the previous owner looked way too happy to sell it to him and didn’t ask him to provide too much paperwork. The weird glances the neighbors shot at the house when passing nearby should have made him ticked, too. But Ivan wasn’t attentive enough, too excited to start the season at his new club soon.

At first, he didn’t notice anything strange. The house was a little big and silent for him alone, sure, but he had enough place for friends and family when they came to visit him. His training also left him too tired to care about how one of his chairs seemed to have moved one centimeter to the right while he was gone.

It soon changed, though. It was only little things, at first. Ivan thought he lost his phone and he found it on his bedside table, even though he had already checked there before. The same went with his keys. When he entered the living room once he came home in winter, the heating was already on and he didn’t have to freeze to death. All these things, he could blame his exhausted state for.

However, when he found a warm coffee ready for him on the table every morning, or the TV already on with his favorite series, he knew something weird was happening. He didn’t know how to react, though. It was weird, yes, but not unpleasant either. At first, he believed it was some weird jokes coming from an obsessed fan. He decided to put discreet cameras in his living room to discover who it was.

The recordings didn’t show anything abnormal, but warm coffee was still waiting for him every morning.

Then the notes began to appear, right next to the cup of coffee. They were always kind, caring words. ‘Good morning.’ ‘I hope you have a good day.’ ‘Don’t strain yourself too much, you looked exhausted yesterday.’ ‘I know it’s been hard for you lately, but I’m sure things will get better.’

They always fitted Ivan’s current mood, and more than once, he felt like crying, because those were exactly the words he needed to hear at the moment. No matter who his stalker was, he was slowly getting attached to them. Still, he knew this couldn’t keep going on, not when he sometimes felt like a stranger in his own house. So one night, he decided to hide behind the sofa and wait for his mysterious nocturnal visitor.

Too bad he fell asleep in the middle of the night. He woke up the next morning with a blanket draped over his shoulder and another small note on the table.

“Please don’t be scared, I just didn’t want you to catch a cold.”

Ivan certainly should have freaked out, but instead, he found the gesture adorably cute. It only encouraged him further in his quest to discover who his guardian angel was, though. So the next night, he hid in a different spot, though this time he made sure to have enough rest before and to be more discreet.

Nothing happened before 5 AM, and Ivan was starting to question his own sanity when someone suddenly appeared in the middle of his living room. Ivan rubbed his eyes five times to make sure he wasn’t dreaming. The being in front of him looked like a small man with long hair, except for the green halo floating around him and his translucent skin. Ivan could literally see right through him and that’s when he realized the truth. The person who watched over him, made him coffee and left kind notes was a ghost. His house was haunted. That explained the low price he had paid it.

But instead of doing ghost things, like making weird, frightening sounds, the stranger switched on the coffee machine, all while whistling. He reached for the usual mug in the cupboard, a happy smile on his face. Ivan couldn’t get a grip on what he was seeing. This was all so… domestic.

He could have spent hours there hiding, just watching the cute ghost tidying the house. No wonder Ivan never had to put too much effort onto it.

Unfortunately, he couldn’t keep himself from sneezing and the sound startled the ghost. Before he could run away, Ivan stormed out of his hide-out so he could reach him. Without thinking much, he grabbed his wrist so he wouldn’t flee.

“Wait, don’t leave! I just want to talk to you.”

Bewilderment replaced the fear on the ghost’s face, and he stared at Ivan with awe.

“You… You can touch me?”

“Yeah, it seems. But I can let you go, if you promise not to run away. I’m not mad at you, I promise.”

Ivan was about to remove his hand, but the ghost kept it in place. Suddenly, he looked desperate and his pleading eyes broke Ivan’s heart.

“No please, don’t let go. No one has been able to touch me for decades. You’re the first since… Since I died… I almost forgot how it felt…”

Now there were tears in his eyes, and Ivan just couldn’t take it. So he pulled the small ghost close before kissing his hair tenderly. He gripped at his shirt, hiding his face against Ivan’s chest as the taller man rubbed his back in a caring gesture.

“It’s okay, I won’t let go, I promise. You won’t be alone anymore. The name’s Ivan, by the way. What’s yours?”

“Luka. I… I’m Luka.”

He repeated his name as though he had a hard time trusting his own voice. Ivan took a step away so he could look straight at him, although he didn’t break contact between them, his arms still wrapped around Luka’s waist.

“It’s nice to meet you after all this time, Luka. Thank you for everything you’ve done for me so far, it was really kind of you.”

His heart missed a beat when Luka’s face lighted up at his words. Maybe he was a ghost, but there was something angelic about him when he looked happy and Ivan immediately knew he would get addicted to the sight.

“Oh, so you liked it? Most people can’t see me, so that’s all I can do. That scared the people who lived here before you, though. That’s why I tried to take it step by step, this time. I’m glad it worked. I mean, you don’t mind me being here? Because I’m afraid I can’t leave. I’ve tried before, and it never worked.”

“Of course I don’t mind, Luka. You’ve only been nice to me so far, why would I want you gone?”

It was completely crazy. He was talking with a ghost, he should be frightened, but all he could think about was how he wanted to protect Luka from being hurt again.

“Thank you so much, Ivan, you have no idea how much it means… Oh, your coffee is ready! Let me fetch it for you, I wouldn’t want you to be late for training because of me!”

Ivan chuckled as he watched the ghost hurry to bring him the drink. This was completely crazy, but he felt like the luckiest man in the world.

Falling into a comfortable routine while having a ghost at home was surprisingly easy. With Luka around, Ivan never had to fear loneliness. On the other hand, the ghost knew when to disappear when he needed some space. He was still welcomed by a warm coffee every morning, but now he could also enjoy Luka’s cheerful conversation.

The ghost was curious of everything. Despite dying a few decades ago, he tried to keep up with technology, and if that wasn’t cute as hell, Ivan didn’t know what was. When Ivan read a magazine, Luka was often leaning over his shoulder, eyebrows frowned in concentration.

The subject of his death only came up once, when Luka didn’t bring Ivan his coffee in the morning like he was used to. Ivan looked for him in the whole house, afraid something happened to him. He found him hiding under the stairs, his spectral body shaking.

“What’s wrong, Luka? Is there anything I can do to help?”

“No, it’s nothing, I’m used to it. It’s just… It’s the anniversary of my death, today. This… It happens to me every year. Nothing to worry about.”

“Do you want to talk to me about it? Your death, I mean.”

Luka smiled bitterly, just as Ivan put a comforting hand over his knee.

“There’s not much to tell, really. There was a war and I didn’t make it, obviously. It’s as easy as that.”

Ivan bit his lip, wishing he’d been more thoughtful before asking that question. He should have known Luka didn’t die of old age, surrounded by family and friends. In all ghost stories, the ghost always suffered a violent death, after all. He wished it was just all old clichés though. He hated the idea of Luka going through any kind of pain.

“I… I had a wife and children, back then. I tried to win time so they could escape. Even today, I don’t know if they made it out alive. Not that it matters. It’s been such a long time, they must be all dead by now.”

Ivan was at a loss for words. What could he say? ‘Sorry for you loss’? The formula sounded so empty compared to the pain of his friend. So he stayed silent and wrapped Luka in his arms, holding him tight. They stayed like that for hours, until the ghost was done shaking and crying his heart out.

The next day, Ivan just couldn’t focus during training. His mind was set on one goal only, finding a way to cheer Luka up. So when he came back home the next day, he held a ball under his arm. Luka sent him a curious look when he entered the house.

“You need to train some more at home? I thought you were already going through enough efforts at your club.”

“That’s true, but I didn’t bring this here for training. In fact, I was thinking we could play football together. I could teach you some moves, if you want.”

“Oh, that’s a great idea! I played a bit too, back when I was young and, well, still alive. My reflexes might be a little rusty, though, so don’t be too hard on me.”

“Don’t worry about that. Let’s go to the garden, then.”

Luka nodded, biting his lower lip in concentration. Once more, Ivan couldn’t help but stare at how beautiful he was. Was it wrong, to fall for a ghost? Because it was definitely happening to him.

He had planned to explain only the basis of football to Luka, but his friend once more outpassed his expectations. He was good at this, so good Ivan feared he would get beaten if he didn’t give it his all. Their game ended with him sweating and breathing harshly, while Luka looked like he could play for several more hours.

“Oh sorry, you must be exhausted! I’ve been a ghost for too long, I tend to forget living people don’t have unlimited stamina.”

Ivan wished his mind didn’t go down the gutter at that comment. It did anyway, leaving him red faced.

“Ah, it’s alright. Playing with you was fun so I lost track of time.”

“I’m glad then. I like you too. Uh, I mean, playing with you.”

Luka put his hand over his mouth, embarrassed by his slip of the tongue. Ivan could have let it at that. He could have pretended nothing was out of place. Instead, he gently lowered Luka’s arm so he could give him a passionate kiss.

Luka didn’t resist. On the contrary, he parted his lips to welcome Ivan, letting out a tear of joy as the sun set behind them.

They talked a lot, so the whole dating-a-ghost thing wouldn’t be too awkward. Ivan had to assure Luka a thousand times that no, their love wasn’t impossible, and that no, he didn’t want anyone but him. Of course, it wasn’t a common situation. Of course, Ivan couldn’t call his parents so they would meet his boyfriend. Of course, Luka would never be able to come to a game to cheer for him. But that didn’t mean their relationships only had downsides. Luka was sweet and kind and a great training partner and Ivan loved him more and more everyday.

Also, Ivan discovered that he was right and that Luka indeed had endless stamina in bed.

Luka was busy playing video games when Ivan came home from training. His boyfriend had taught him how to use it and it made his days trapped in the house less boring. He put his game on hold and went to the front door so he could welcome Ivan with a kiss. He leaned his forehead against his lover’s for a few minutes, just enjoying the feeling of being reunited again. Then he noticed the file in Ivan’s hand.

“What’s this?”

“I’m going to tell you. But first, maybe it would be good for you to sit down.”

“What is it? Are you going to transfer to another club? I mean, I knew it could happen, I won’t get mad at you.  You’ll just have to keep this house and we’ll keep seeing each other, just not as often. I mean, if you want this thing we have to last, that is, and…”

“Luka, calm down. I’m not changing club and I’m not leaving you. Just trust me and sit down, okay.”

Luka nodded and laid back in the sofa, but he was still fidgety. Ivan sat next to him and took his hand in his in an attempt to calm him down.

“I’ve made some researches, about you and your family. It’s all in those files. Luka, your wife and your children… They survived the war. Your children even had children of their own. You didn’t sacrifice yourself in vain.”

“Are… Are you sure?”

“Yes, they all died of old age, thanks to you. You’re a real hero, Luka.”

Ivan gave him the precious documents and Luka opened it with shaky hands. He stared at the photos stacked in it with blurry eyes. His lover didn’t say a word, simply rubbing his back so he would feel better.

“They… They really made it? They were safe and happy?”

“Yes, but you can see it for yourself.”

They sat in silence for the next hour as Luka went through the papers, sometimes stopping because he couldn’t control his sobs anymore. Once he was done, he carefully put all the pictures back in the file before leaning into Ivan. His boyfriend gladly opened his arms for him so Luka could cuddle against him.

“Thank you for everything, Ivan. Nothing forced you to do this, and yet…”

“And yet I wanted to do it. For you, Luka.”

“It’s weird, you know. All these years, I thought that once I learned the truth about what happened to my family, I would leave this earth once and for all, see the light or something like that. But I’m still here.”

“It’s probably selfish, but I’m glad you didn’t go away.” Ivan whispered back.

“Yeah, me too. I would miss you too much.” Luka answered before kissing him.

Still, one thought lingered in his mind. Maybe he hadn’t been wrong all these years. Maybe Ivan was his light.

Ivan was getting impatient. He didn’t like to waste too much time in the locker room after training, mainly because he always felt the urge to come back home, to come back to Luka. But today, he needed to talk with one of his team mates. Of course, it would be easier if said team mate wasn’t busy making love eyes at another member of their team.

“Oh wait, Dejan, there’s also this other video I wanted to show you, and…”

Alright, now it was getting on Ivan’s nerves. If he waited politely, he would still be here tomorrow morning. So he grabbed Šime by his arm, dragging him away even when his friend shouted in protest.

“Sorry Dejan, I’m borrowing him for a while.”

“What the hell do you think you’re doing, Ivan? Can’t you see I was busy here?” Šime pouted once he let go of him.

“Don’t worry, I’ll let you go back to playing lovesick teenagers with Dejan in just a minute. But first, I need you to tell me how to contact that friend of yours you told me about the other day.”

“Hey, we’re not acting like lovesick teenagers.” Šime replied.

Ivan raised an unconvinced eyebrow and Šime sighed.

“Yeah, okay, maybe you’re right. Just promise you won’t tell him about my feelings before I do, okay? I want it to be special.”

Šime suddenly looked flustered and distressed and Ivan laughed while patting his back.

“Don’t fret too much other this, Dejan’s got it bad for you too, I assure you. Now, about that friend of yours?”

“Oh, yes, right, just let me grab a piece of paper so I can write his number on it…”

In the end, everything turned alright. Ivan got the information he was looking for, and the next day, Šime and Dejan arrived at training with huge smiles on their faces and hickeys down Šime’s neck.

Luka frowned when he saw Ivan coming home, but not alone. He quickly made sure that only his boyfriend would be able to see him. Most people couldn’t see ghosts anyway, Ivan being the exception to the rule, but he didn’t want to take any risks. Usually, he would warn Luka before bringing someone else home.

What’s more, the man accompanying him looked kinda strange, with his long blond hair, his fancy black clothes and his even fancier hat. Luka quickly understood what was wrong and he ran to Ivan, his lower lip quivering and his face red with anger.

“You brought an exorcist here!”

“Don’t worry” Ivan mouthed back at him, but it wasn’t enough to calm Luka.

“So that’s the place?” The blond man asked, to Luka’s disarray.

“Yes, it is.” Ivan replied calmly.

“Don’t you want me anymore? Did I do something wrong? Please, Ivan, talked to me! If I made a mistake, I can fix it, but don’t force me to go away.”

“Alright, I’ll just go and do my thing, then. It won’t take long.”

Once the exorcist was out of sight, Ivan grabbed Luka’s wrist, keeping the distressed ghost from hitting him. He then planted a long, loving kiss on his lips so his boyfriend would listen to him.

“Don’t be stupid, Luka. I would never do anything to hurt you. You know I love you.”

“Then why did you call an exorcist here? I don’t understand what’s happening! And… And that man looks weird, too.”

“Don’t be rude, Domo is a nice guy, and he knows a lot about supernatural forces, from what I understood.”

“He’s pouring beer on the threshold!” Luka shouted back.

“That’s an unconventional method, I’ll admit, but I promise you, Luka, nothing bad will happen to you today. You have my word.”

Before he could replied, Luka suddenly froze and stared with horror at Ivan.

“Wait, he’s doing something weird to your energy lines! I can’t let that happening!”

As Luka got angrier, the leaves of the trees around him started falling, just as the wind blew colder. So his boyfriend could act as a dangerous poltergeist if he wanted, it seemed. But before Luka could cause any damage, Ivan pushed him against the wall of the house.

“Stop it! I asked Domo to do this, to link my spirit to this house, so that when I die, I’ll come back to this place as a ghost.”

“Wait, you mean you’re doing this to stay with me?”

“Exactly.”

“No, you can’t do that! You’re crazy! Maybe there’s a better afterlife waiting for you, you just can’t give this up for me, and…”

Once more, Ivan shut him up with a gentle press of his lips.

“And that is the reason why I didn’t talk of this with you beforehand. I knew you’d want to sacrifice yourself for my sake. But as sappy as it can sound, I want an eternity with you, and I’m not wasting my chance. Now just wait for me until this is all settled, okay?”

Luka nodded weakly, watching speechlessly as Ivan thanked Domo for his help. The exorcist soon left and Luka immediately proceeded to wash all the puddles of beer spread around the house.

“You don’t have to do this alone. I’ll help you.” Ivan offered. Then he added shyly: “Are you mad at me?”

“I… No, of course, I’m not mad at you. It’s just… Did you realize what you just did for me?”

“Actually, I do. I’ve been thinking about this for months and I have no doubts I want to stay with you. I would have already gotten down on one knee to ask your hand if you weren’t well, you know, a ghost.”

“That’s the lamest proposal I’ve ever heard, you know.”

“Would it be better if I kissed you for good measure?”

Luka chuckled, but he still melted in Ivan’s embrace.

Years went by. At some point, Ivan had to move to another club, just as Luka feared. But he never sold his old house, nor did he stop going there to see Luka. Once he retired, he came back to him. The ghost was always happy to play football with him, to make him coffee in the morning or to have long discussions with him and he never grew tired of him, not even when Ivan’s hair started to turn grey while Luka stayed the same day after day.

Then, one morning, Luka immediately sensed something was wrong. He wandered the house aimlessly, as Ivan’s cup of coffee grew cold on the table. A deep panic settled in his mind and the furniture began to shake around him as he lost control over himself.

A hand on his shoulder helped him to ground himself, though. He turned around to face Ivan, the Ivan of his memories, the Ivan who still looked like he was in his twenties. Except this time, his skin was translucent and a green light radiated from him.

“I told you Domo knew what he was doing” He grinned, one second before Luka crashed into his arms.

Now, nothing would ever bring them apart. All was well.

Tag list: @slashandsports @arduango @pachua @mamaopal @man-dzukic @zadarskabagudina @tinymodric @domo-no-domo-yes @mrsmodric @flemishyugotalian

[omniswords]

Chronicles of a Parisian Dumbass 13

hey y'all. happy update. sorry i've been so quiet like... literally everywhere. it's been, a lot lately, as you can imagine. i'm doing my best on my end and i hope you are too. i'm coming back to things. slowly.

if you like, come give me a follow over on twitter where i’m more active, or on twitch where i’ve started streaming. (username is omnistruck for both, but i was afraid that linking would nix the post from the tags ;;)

hang in there.

29 July, La Tortue. You in?

Luka has been, quite frankly, working his ass off like he never has before.

Well, maybe that’s not entirely true. He remembers at least sort of working this hard to study for the bac, even if by most standards he nearly passed by the skin of his teeth. And he remembers at least sort of working this hard to find a paying job once he could actually have a job. But those ventures were for other people. To make a school district look good. To put food on the table even when he did n’t much feel like eating himself. This… he might even say this is the first time he’s worked so hard for himself, taken every bull he could find by the horns and steered it toward this club Bubbles has been hyping up, instead of figuring out where the things he loved decided to take him.

…Okay, and maybe he’s been doing some of this with Marinette in mind. But it isn’t entirely because of her, and he’d be dead and buried before he’d admit that Juleka’s right about this.

But what’s so bad about having a reason to work so hard? What’s wrong with calling the band together to practice when they’d been so lax about performances before? And what’s so bad about having a face to focus on in his imaginary audience whenever he closes his eyes? Or about having their setlist running like ticker tape in his head whenever he has a quiet moment in between deliveries? Or about splitting his attention between his messages to Bubbles and the tireless search for that perfect shade of blue music in the middle of the night?

Isn’t this what drives art? A color, a smile, a touch of the hand? Doesn’t this stuff launch ships and pen poetry? Isn’t it the little things, the things that are inconsequential to almost everyone else, that makes a painting into a masterpiece, or a song into a symphony?

Juleka says it once at the end of practice. Mostly with a jerk of her thumb and the hollow drawl of, “Get a load of this guy.”

Luka barely hears it, mostly because he’s crossed the room to study a heap of sheet music and rearrange it for what feels like the third time this hour. But he has enough spare energy, between writing and erasing and rewriting, to raise a middle finger behind him.

“Oh, come on,” Rose laughs, stepping back from the microphone; in seconds, he can feel her looming over him, studying with him. He doesn’t mind it, or how she rests her chin on his head, simply because they’ve known each other so long. “You just wanna get it right for our big break, right?”

Luka’s gotten a lot of things right; it’s easy to do when he keeps the bar for “right” on the ground nine times out of ten. He doesn’t want to get it right. He wants to get it perfect. And, as it turns out, the tenth time is the most finicky son of a bitch he’s ever dealt with. Which is saying something, when he’s been at the mercy of hungry customers more times than he can count.

“We’ll get it,” Rose encourages him with a friendly kiss to the top of his head. Her voice sounds tired. Maybe even worn. “But it’s not gonna go anywhere if you leave it alone for a while. I promise. Come on, let’s give it a rest.”

After a moment, he sighs, rights his papers, and rests his forehead on the keyboard he’s had to use as a makeshift desk. It makes the most distressing mix of notes in protest, but he hardly winces; it’s not like he’s ever been able to play it properly, anyway. “Fine,” he relents. “I’ll make you some tea and meet you upstairs.”

A shift in the air tells him neither Rose nor Juleka believes him. In the end, Juleka says, “Fine,” and Rose unravels from him, and their footsteps fade up the stairs.

With a sigh, Luka lifts his head from the piano, sure that the keys must have left some kind of mark, and finds Ivan still there, seated half-uncomfortably behind the drum set and twirling one of the sticks in his fingers.

“Juleka gave me The Look,” is all Ivan says, but it’s enough of an explanation. They’ve all been on the business end of The Look before. Even Rose, and maybe Luka more than most. He can see it in his head from the words alone.

“I get it, I get it,” Luka says, and he sets to work putting the kettle on and fishing out a couple of teabags and mismatched mugs from the cupboard. “You want a soda? Last one before we go grocery shopping—”

Ivan shakes his head. “You have it.”

Luka tosses him a water bottle instead, impressed by how he downs half of it in one go, dismissing his apology when he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. The kettle’s still going. They’ve got time to kill.

“She… kinda has a point,” Ivan mumbles after more than a beat of silence, like he’s uncertain about being too honest. Luka’s always thought he had nothing to worry about—Ivan’s much more tender than first glances would have others believe, and maybe tiptoes more than he should to fight those first glances. But he’s also had more than his fair share of overthinking the right words to say when music doesn’t suffice, and of regretting the words no matter how he ends up stringing them together, so he can’t really blame him.

Luka decides to bite. “What d’you mean?”

“I dunno,” Ivan says, which usually means that he does know but is looking for the right way to cushion his words. “It does kinda feel like you’ve gone into turbo mode about this whole gig. But like, Luka-Couffaine-Style Turbo Mode.”

“Is that better or worse than the average?”

“Well… it’s definitely different. It’s like you tune everything out and go… I guess, somewhere inside yourself that the rest of us can’t see.” Ivan shrugs. “I guess maybe she’s worried that it’s so nice in there that you won’t come back out.”

Luka smiles grimly at the stovetop. “You’re not gonna tell me there’s no I in ‘band,’ are you?”

Ivan laughs and takes another swig. “Nah, that sounds like something a guidance counselor would say. More like… it’s okay to come out sometimes.”

Luka bites his tongue and resists the urge to joke that he already does it every time he meets someone new. Instead, he busies himself with turning off the kettle and making the tea. “Hey, uh… you don’t mind if I ask you something weird i do you?”

“I’m already scared,” Ivan jokes, “but go ahead.”

Luka pauses, tea bag in hand. “How did… you and Mylène get together?”

When he turns, it’s hard to say just how Ivan’s expression’s shifted, but he knows it has. Reminiscing, maybe? Or is that... cringing? Or—for better or worse—understanding? “I, uh, wrote her a song. It… didn’t exactly go well.”

“What d’you mean, it didn’t go well? You’re dating, aren’t you?”

“Well, yeah, but. “Ivan shrugs. “It’s not like we just magically came together or anything. There were hiccups, I guess. You know?”

Luka knew hiccups better than the back of his hand. “So… what happened?”

Ivan tells him everything. How he liked Mylène and how sometimes it felt like everyone knew it but her. Or how maybe she knew after all, but didn’t want to, now maybe she even pretended she didn’t to let him down easy. How he buzzed from head to toe just sitting next to her in class but barely talked to her because he didn’t feel like he had the right to. The nights he stayed up thinking about it, wildly swinging back and forth between what if she doesn’t? and but God, what if she does? How he was teased and goaded by his classmates into finally gathering up the courage to confess to her, and humiliating them both with that stupid, loud song. And how, at the end of the day, all she needed to do was read the lyrics.

“It didn’t have to be perfect,” Ivan tells him. “It just had to be good.”

Luka smiles to himself at the end of it all, and feels his stomach turn, and wonders in the silence if all Marinette needs to do is hear the notes.

“Is it?” Ivan asks. “A girl? The one you’ve been posting about?”

Luka doesn’t say anything. He only takes the tray of drinks, and gives a little shrug, and nods toward the stairs. He gets the feeling Ivan would know without words anyway.

Cause I’m in. In fact, I’ve never been more “in” in my life.

[f-l-writes]

Reignited

Warnings: Swearing.

Word Count: 6531

Hope you enjoy and feel free to request

Note: I had enjoyed working on this one so I hope you guys enjoy. Also, as a random fact, I love Bang Chan with my heart and soul lol.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me, Shawn. You can’t just bail on me the last second!” you snapped at him, doing your best to keep your voice down as you looked at the German-American man, arms crossed over your chest and your eyes narrowed at him angrily as you spoke.

He had decided that, on the night of a very important gig, he was going to back out on you. The night that the two of you planned on going up to play for a live and full house instead of just passing discs to the managers to play throughout the night, he bailed on you.

“Y/N, you know my girlfriend comes first. She got hurt today while at work and I need to be there to take care of her,” he said, keeping his tone as level as possible.

As you tried to keep your breathing under control and tried to keep yourself from getting too worked up, you began to scratch at the back of your hand. It was a habit of sorts. It happened usually whenever you were getting anxious or over emotional about things but you found that it helped keep you level despite the pain that sometimes came with it.

“Fine. I’ll play alone. I’m not losing this opportunity to get my name out there because of your girlfriend,” you ground out, venom dripping from every word.

“You never used to be so horrible,” Shawn observed, crossing his arms.

“Because I’ve been letting you slide on missing the last three fucking shows and having to disappoint a crowd! I’m done fucking waiting for you, Shawn! I’m done waiting on your needy little fucking girlfriend!” you shouted this time, now using your hands as motion gestures to get your anger across if your voice wasn’t doing it.

“You know what, fuck off. I’m done playing around with this shit. We’re not going to get big. We’re gonna be stuck doing fucking bar gigs and underground clubs. I’m done with this. I can handle you insulting me, but you’re not gonna talk about my girlfriend like that,” he responded, his own anger seeping into his voice.

“Wouldn’t have to if it wasn’t the truth, Madej. She’s a clingy little-”

“Y/N, you should take a step out from back here for now. Go outside, get some air and calm down before things escalate. Shawn, I think it’s time for you to go. They’ll find someone to replace you,” the bar owner interrupted, hoping that the two wouldn’t have a run in outside.

With that, the two went through two separate exits; Shawn through the back one and you walking out into the main part of the bar you were in and stepping outside. You leaned against the brick wall next to the door of the bar, setting your head against the cool stone and closing your eyes.

“Fucking bastard couldn’t take just one night to let us try,” you muttered to yourself as you decided to take a seat on the cement and watch the cars that flew by, almost in blurs. Just as you were about to get up, someone exited the bar and walked over to where you were, looking down at your still seated form. The unknown man extended his hand to which you took in your own and were hauled to your feet.

“I heard about the argument between you and your bandmate… If you want, I could help you?”

“It would take too long-”

“I already know all your stuff. I’ve seen your stuff on YouTube and I’ve practiced it for the fun of doing it. I also know all the songs- including covers- that you’ll be doing tonight,” he responded.

“So you saw the announcement on our channel about that too, huh?” you stated with a chuckle, looking up at the slightly taller man with a smirk settling over your lips as he looked away somewhat shyly and nodded.

“I’ll tell you what, we’ll get you set up with a guitar to see if you’ve practiced as much as you say you have, do a quick vocal session to see how your voice fits with our… my songs and then do a once over for the covers we’re doing. While we’re at it, tell me a bit about yourself,” you finished, walking around him to head back inside, the man staying close behind as you made your way back to the backstage area.

Motioning for him to sit, you grabbed the guitar that Shawn had, thankfully, left behind in his fit of annoyance and anger. Passing it to him, you instructed him to play one of your most recent songs, Guidance. Immediately, he set to making sure the guitar was tuned properly before he began to play the instrument expertly. You were amazed that he had already mastered the song considering you had only released the video for it four days prior to the gig. Not only was he playing the guitar, he sang along as well, his words flowing perfectly.

The man had a velvety voice and you were almost upset at the fact that you hadn’t found him sooner. Maybe he could be your Shawn replacement? God, you wanted him to be the replacement so bad. His voice was perfect, beautiful and all you wanted in a musical partner. Shawn’s voice had been nice, but it had been nowhere near as nice as this Australian-accented mystery man.

You hadn’t realized when the song came to an end until the man spoke, causing you to jump slightly. “Was that alright?” he questioned, some tone of worry hidden in his voice.

“Yeah. It was amazing! Perfect, really. But what about some of the covers we’ll be doing? Anywhere But Here, Heavy, Feel Like Home? How do you think your voice will fare with those?”

“For Heavy and Feel Like Home, I think I’ll do alright. I don’t have as gruff of a voice as Ivan Moody so I’ll do the best I can for Anywhere But Here. The rest of the ones you mentioned on YouTube I can do as well,” he notified, watching as your lips relaxed from a tight line to a smile.

“Well, as long as you do your best then it doesn’t really matter. Why don’t you tell me a bit about yourself before the show starts?”

“My name is Chris Bang,” he began, “but my stage name, which is also my Korean name, is Bang Chan. I lived in Australia until I was thirteen to which I went to an audition for an entertainment company called JYP. Went into training for seven years and just recently debuted with a group called Stray Kids,” he explained the basics of his life and you slowly nodded as you listened to him talk.

“Man, and I was looking forward to bringing you on as my new guitarist,” you stated somewhat jokingly, watching as the man chuckled a bit.

“Ah, my bad. I really wish I could but I have a group to look after.” he seemed almost guilty about it and you quickly put a rest to that.

“I was just playing around, don’t worry about it! You’ve got a group of people that, I’m assuming, you need to lead and you don’t need a side thing to worry about. But how often do you show up here? Just so I know what days I need to play for you,” you cheekily winked at the man, causing him to let out a laugh as he set the guitar down.

“If you must know, I show up every other Saturday if I don’t have practice or a schedule that day,” he admitted, setting his hands on his thighs as he leaned forward, his innocent yet tired looking eyes staring into your own.

“I’ll keep that in mind then, Chris,” you responded with a smile, looking up as the bar owner stepped backstage.

“Knew you’d find someone,” the man stated, crossing his arms over his chest as he looked between you and Chris.

“Yeah. Not hard when you have a fan who approaches you on the street and happens to be in an idol group themselves,” you responded, standing up as you took ahold of your own instrument, a bass guitar, and quickly tuned it. “How much longer until you announce the live show?” you turned to the owner, eyes showing your obvious curiosity.

“As soon as the bartender can break up a fight that broke out. Once that’s taken care of, I’ll introduce you two and you can carry on as you will,” the man responded, his eyes flickering over to Chris and chuckling at the amazingly contrast difference between your apparel and Chris’.

Chris had on a white button up dress shirt that was rolled up to his elbow and black slacks, followed by black dress shoes. He had a few rings on and two black earrings, but otherwise nothing. He had no visible tattoos and no other piercings. In other words, he looked like he just got off of his office job and wanted to have a drink or two but ended up getting wrapped up in your mess.

On your end, you wore a plain black tee under a leather jacket and had on extremely distressed black skinny jeans, ending in black men’s combat boots. Your fingers were decorated with rings and you had in double zero, solid black gauges. Under the jacket, you sported a fair amount of tattoos and the same was said for under your jeans. All in all, you sported the typical “rocker” style look.

To the owner of the bar, it was amusing to see someone who looked like he got pulled up out of his comfortable spot in the crowd to participate alongside someone who looked like they could break someone in half with nothing but a kick. Shaking his head, the man peered out, letting out a satisfied grunt when he noticed there was no longer a fight.

“Get ready. You’re about to go up,” he said with a grin as he turned, stepping out onto the stage and taking the mic that was set up. “Thank you, everyone, for joining us tonight. If you couldn’t tell by the posters posted around the bar we’ll be having a small rock duo, by the name of Northern Star, playing tonight. Enjoy,” with that, the man walked back to where you and Chris were standing, waiting to perform. Once the owner of the bar walked back in, you and Chris walked out, introduced yourselves separately before you started up, the backing tracks you needed to cover the drum where it was absent playing alongside you and Chris.

When the night finally ended, you and Chris thanked the crowd for sticking around to listen for the last two hours before you directed them to a donation jar near the end of the stage. Once everyone was done, you collected it, thanked them again, and headed backstage once more, Chris following behind you.

Once the both of you were settled back and you were packing up your bass and Shawn’s guitar, you turned to Chris. “Thanks for tonight, Chris. I appreciate it a lot. You said your group’s name is Stray Kids, right?”

“Yep!”

“I’ll check you guys out when I get home then. I look forward to hearing your stuff,” you smiled at the man as you picked up the cases that you had to carry out to your car. Just before you were able to turn away, Chris stopped you, grabbing the case that had Shawn’s guitar in it.

“Let me help you. I need to ask for something once we get outside anyway,” he said with a sly smirk on his face before he began to walk off towards the back entrance, forcing you to follow behind him.

Once you had made it to your car and loaded in the guitars, Chris spoke up, his breath visible in the quickly cooling night. “I was wondering if I could have your number? Or at least KaKao account. I want to keep in touch. You seem like a cool person and I want to let you know the days I’ll be showing up to hear you perform,” he said with a chuckle.

With as cute and caring as he seemed to be, you couldn’t say no. Taking your phone out, you went to your contacts and opened up “Create New Contact” before passing the phone to him. When he passed the phone back, you texted it quickly to ensure he gave you the right number. He chuckled when he read the message, responding out loud.

“Thanks, I got them from the President. Anyways, I get the feeling I’ll see you around… I never got your name…”

“Y/N Y/L/N,” you responded, leaning against the side of the car and taking Chris in as he changed your name in his phone.

His hair was somewhat curly, frizzed up slightly from the humidity of the day. His had dark, almost black eyes and skin that almost anyone would die for. He had a somewhat broad bridge and nose that was outlined by smile lines, something visible as he smiled at you once he put his phone away. He had dimples on his cheeks and nice lips, the top one being slightly fuller than the bottom and looking somewhat heart-shaped. His skin was fairly tanned, but it only added to his overall beauty.

In your quest to examine the male to perfection, you hadn’t quite realized you were staring until he spoke, his voice holding a slight lilt to it as he chuckled while speaking. “I hope you like what you see. You’ll have to be dealing with it if you decide to watch my groups stuff,” he teased, watching as you rolled your eyes.

“Alright, hot shot, I’m sure I could pick out a few other cuties,” you joked, watching as he held a hand to the base of his throat in a mock hurt. You chuckled once more, shaking your head.

“I’ll see you sometime again, Y/N, I can promise you that,” he said, waving goodbye to you as he walked away.

You watched him go, a smile on your face before you got in your car and made your way home, glad for once that Shawn bailed on you. While you knew you would be struggling as a one-man show, you also knew you always had a backup in your brother, the older male always willing to help you out with your career option since it was one he had never really pushed towards despite wanting to.

As soon as you stepped into your home and dropped on the couch, you pulled up your brother’s contact after clearing the messages from Shawn and Chris, before hitting the call button. Once he picked up, you began to speak.

“Hey, Y/B/N, I need your help.”

“Oh god,” he responded, “what is it?”

“Well… Shawn quit on me after an argument tonight and I need the second best guitarist I know.” even though he couldn’t see you, you were smiling.

“Second best? You always said I was better than Shawn!”

“You are, but I met a guy tonight named Chris and he’s amazing. Like wow. Kinda hot too,” you said, chuckling a bit.

“Why don’t you ask him?” your brother wasn’t hurt, you could tell, he was just genuinely curious.

“He’s part of a busy K-Pop group so he wouldn’t be reliable as a guitarist. You, on the other hand, would be,” you finished, hoping he would respond positively.

“Alright, fine. When’s your next show?” your brother questioned before you began to thank him profusely.

“It’s next Saturday at nine, so please don’t be late. I don’t need you to pull a Shawn,” you stated, a slight smile on your lips.

“Sounds good to me, Y/N. I’ll see you Saturday then.” with that, your brother hung up the call, leaving you to get back to your messages. First, you decided to get back to Chris, the male asking if you had watched any videos yet.

Not yet. I will after I get done ranting to Shawn though lol.

Once the message was sent, you went into Shawn’s messages, looking through the various messages he had left you. Most were about “his” guitar before he descended into name-calling, and stated that you were a “bitch who had no care for other personal lives”. To everything, you responded in as short of a message as you could.

Sorry to hear you didn’t enjoy working with me. Unfortunately, I didn’t care about your personal life and clingy girlfriend because she was causing you to miss shows that we could have been making money off of. In fact, you costed us about $600 dollars worth of shows. That being said, the guitar isn’t yours. I bought it for you because you didn’t have one and now it’s my compensation for your missed shows. Finally, I got my brother to agree to continue on with me so, for me, seeing you gone is good riddance. Have a nice life being controlled by your girlfriend, Shawn.

Not bothering to hear his calls or complaints, you blocked his number, all his social media, and removed him from your bio on Instagram, YouTube, Twitter, and Facebook. When you were positive he was almost completely erased as someone you had associated with, you went on to YouTube, deciding to look up “Stray Kids” like you had promised Chris.

When you noticed the sun beginning to rise from outside your living room window, you swore slightly as you hopped up, rushing to your kitchen to make yourself some coffee. While you didn’t have to be to work until twelve, you wanted to have your time to get ready and then relax. Whilst in the middle of making coffee, you texted Chris.

I haven’t slept all night because of your guys’ videos. Thanks, Chris lol

There was an immediate response, which somewhat surprised you as you knew idols were insanely busy most of the time, making you wonder if he was actually doing anything that day.

Sorry lol. Hope you didn’t have anything planned for today~

You chuckled a bit at his response, rolling your eyes as a smile lit up your face. You chose not to respond right away, your coffee becoming priority before you did so. As soon as you made the coffee to perfection, however, you messaged him back.

Only work in 5 and a half hours.

Day gig?

More like a barista at a coffee place. If only I could be a full-time musician…

There wasn’t a response for another ten minutes, allowing you to eat half of a breakfast sandwich and drink a quarter of your coffee. When you saw his message though, you almost choked on your coffee.

Why don’t you audition for an entertainment company? I’m sure FNC or someone similar would accept you. You’re obviously talented, you have a fair fanbase already on YouTube, Instagram, and Twitter, and they probably wouldn’t take long to debut you. Two or three years at most, I bet.

Was he being serious? You couldn’t see yourself becoming a musician under any sort of actual record label. It seemed so many years off for you that it almost made you frown. You weren’t jealous of Chris in the slightest. You knew that he had been in training for seven years, dealt with the pain of seeing his friends debut and then having to see two kicked from the show before being brought back.

You knew this, but this isn’t what made your heart ache. It was the fact that you felt like you wouldn’t be able to make it. That even if you tried one thousand times, you’d be rejected. You didn’t feel good enough. You felt inferior. Despite having talent, you felt like you had nothing to show off. You didn’t feel charismatic enough or beautiful enough. You weren’t anything special so you couldn’t understand why someone as amazing as Chris would tell you to try and audition.

Shaking your head, you responded, trying to seem like you were feeling light-hearted now.

Yeah, sure thing, Kangaroo lol.

There wasn’t another response the rest of the morning, unlike what you had been hoping for. Instead, however, you did spot a nine-manned troupe walk through the doors of the cafe you worked at and immediately recognized them as Stray Kids. Sure, you had become a slight fan over the night but it’s not like it was completely one-sided. After all, Chris claimed to be a fan of yours the night prior.

You smiled when you saw Hyun Jin walk up to the counter to order the drinks for his group. You punched everything into the machine as he spoke, your eyes continuously flickering over to Chris as he laughed and joked with his friends and group mates.

Once everything was put in, you gave him a number for when his drinks were up. Thankfully, Chris had ordered the one strongest thing on the menu that the others hadn’t and you had been tasked with labeling the drinks. Once you got to Chris’, you decided to add a little note beneath his name. Nice to see you here, Mr. Bang. You smiled as you finished writing it, setting the cup on the tray before calling the number.

This time, instead of Hyun Jin coming up, it was Felix. You gave the Australian male a smile and a “have a nice day, sir” before you went back to taking care of the other customers. By the time the line was finally cleared, you had noticed that Chris finally noticed the note on his cup after it had been pointed out by one of the other members.

You watched as he glanced at it, chuckling before excusing himself and heading over, speaking with a smirk on his face and a laugh buried deep in his throat. “I think you gave the wrong order, Y/N,” he stated, his eyes glittering with amusement as he looked at you.

“Oh no, did I? Would you like me to hand make you a new drink?”

“Instead of that, why don’t we hang out this weekend? I have Saturday and Sunday off from schedules and we can hang out. If you have a gig this Saturday, we can do whatever you want after that.” his words didn’t hint at anything more than just two acquaintances getting to know one another better and, honestly, it didn’t seem to be that bad of an idea.

“Alright, I’ll have to take you up on that, Chris. This Saturday, after my gig, why don’t we go take a walk by the river?”

Just before he could answer, one of your co-workers called you over to help him out. Waving bye to the Australian male, you quickly moved over to where your co-worker was, helping with a failing machine. You watched from the corner of your eye as Chris moved back to where his group mates were waiting for him. Once they had begun to joke around, it wasn’t much longer until you heard their loud laughter fill the fair sized shop, disturbing the other patrons with their joy.

By the time Saturday came, you were jittery about the night that awaited you after the gig. Thankfully, your brother didn’t bail on you like Shawn would have, but he arrived only three minutes before the show started, giving the two of you no time to do a quick run-over of things.

One thing that also contributed to you being happy about your brother being there was that he helped you in the creation process of your songs. Often times, he was the one who would call you in the middle of the night (when you were more than likely working on a new melody), saying that he had come up with the absolute best ideas for lyrics. This, of course, would prompt your brother to come over at two twenty in the morning so the two of you could work on a song.

Once your brother had finally entered the backstage area, you quickly glanced over his attire, giving a nod of approvement once you had done so. Soon enough, your brother and you took the stage and began the show. During this particular show, you revealed a new song. It didn't resemble your other songs in the slightest. It had an upbeat, slow and calm melody and sounded more along the lines of a ballad. When you had begun to sing this particular song, a murmur rippled throughout the crowd that had been actively paying attention.

Even while in the midst of the song, you could tell there were mixed opinions on the song from I thought they were supposed to be a rock musician? to it's nice to see something that differs from their heavy sound. You, however, kept up the smile that planted itself on your face as your eyes skimmed the crowd, easily picking out the man that you would be ditching your brother for.

When the show finally came to an end, you quickly cased your guitar before heading out, meeting Chris by the door, the two of you walking out to his car. Once he popped the trunk, you slipped your guitar in and closed the trunk before circling the car and settling into the passenger seat.

“Thanks for doing this, Chris,” you said, looking over at him as he got himself situated in the driver’s seat.

“It’s no problem, Y/N. I think we both need some time to unwind. You’re working double as a barista and a musician and I’ve got my own problems dealing with my group,” he stated, not seeing you nod as he kept his eyes on the road.

“Still, it’s nice to just...not be worried about how the show went overall and whether or not the next one is gonna have to be canceled…” you responded, turning your head away from the man as you looked out the window.

Your eyes flickered from one lit up building to the next, watching as they flashed by in a blur along with the cars that drove alongside you and Chris. You found yourself wondering about other people’s lives. Were they struggling to make ends meet? Or were they living comfortably in an upscale apartment without a worry in the world?

Your mind then drifted to Chris. What was his life like now? What was it like before he joined JYP? What did he have to go through to get to where he is now? You knew nothing of the idol life and had no idea how difficult it could possibly be and, for once, you found yourself wanting to know.

Sure, it’s easy to make a slight name for yourself through being a self-taught musician with some alright songs, but when it comes down to it, you’re not professionally trained like Chris was. You knew what you needed to know and while you often pushed your boundaries with teaching yourself, it wasn’t the way idols pushed themselves, staying up two or three days in a row to perfect a dance or staying up until the sun began to rise to record and perfect melodies.

You found yourself thinking about these things, tuning out the world around you as you did so. You didn’t even realize Chris had said anything to you until you felt a tap on your shoulder, the man pulling you back to reality.

“We’re here,” he said with a small smile settling over his lips and giving just the tiniest tease to his dimples.

It was a smile that, even if only a hint of it was there, if it was genuine it could light up his whole face. It gave him a look that reminded you of the days when you were a child, the light of that curiosity about everything giving you that air of innocence. Of course, with time, came the reality and toughening of that light. Between school and being in the face of life, that curious flame became dull, almost snuffed out completely. But, as you looked back to Chris and saw that once familiar light, it reignited a spark in you. It made you crave that curiosity and innocence of life again. It made you want to ask him questions about all the things he knew and experienced and it made you want to experience something new.

“Thanks again for all of this, Chris,” you let out slowly as you stepped out of the car, forever grateful about the few hours the two of you would be able to spend together. You weren’t sure why, but over the week that the two of you had been talking, you had wanted nothing more than to meet in person again to hang out. You found such interest in Chris and you were craving to know what he knew. To understand how he felt about anything and everything. You craved that knowledge like a child might crave the knowledge to learn how to read to prove themselves. You wanted to be someone who Chris could talk to if he didn’t feel he could tell his members something.

“You keep thanking me,” he said as the two of you walked over to the bank of the river, walking along the side of it. “I don’t understand why. All I’m doing is taking you out for a few hours of relaxation before we jump back into our busy life schedules,” he stated, looking over at you. His face held no trace of a smile now and, instead, seemed to be rather analytical as he studied you.

You felt almost exposed underneath his gaze, but you mustered up the courage to speak through the sudden timidness. “I don’t often have people who take interest in hanging out with me. More often than not, people avoid me. Too scared to come up and speak to me because of the generally bad rep that rockers get. Along with that, I wouldn’t expect it from you of all people. Not when you have thousands upon thousands of fans and at least one hundred fansites that could catch you with me and make up a rumor. If we’re being honest here, you’re taking a risk to be hanging out right now because what if one of your fans saw us? Posted it online and spread a rumor? You know how words get twisted out there. I don’t want to be the reason you get into such a scandal so early in your career,” you finished, letting your eyes drift away from Chris to settle on the water the two of you walked along.

Chris nodded silently as the two of you continued to walk before he suddenly stopped and plopped down in the grass. He patted the spot beside him, that beautiful smile lighting up his face once more. He looked almost ethereal in the moonlight, the full moon casting a gentle silver glow over his already beautiful features. As you sat beside him, you began to notice the slight imperfections in his skin. A few acne scars here, a forming whitehead there.

Nonetheless, it proved to you something. It proved that he was human. The stories he would tell throughout the night would only prove that further, allowing you to lift the veil that had previously been settled over your eyes by the fans who wanted to make their idols out to be perfect. Who wanted to make them seem like angels without problems.

You could understand wanting to put up that facade for people coming into the fandom, but you believed it was better for them to see the imperfections. To see that you don’t need to worry about the blemishes that decorate the skin or the scars that may be littered all over from childhood accidents. That it was normal and that things happen. That no matter what, no one was perfect. Not even the seemingly perfect idols.

“Hey, Chris?” you questioned, looking over at him after the silence had consumed the two of you.

He hummed in response, glancing over at you with one brow lifted slightly, eyes silently urging you to ask or say what you wanted. For a second, you hesitated before carrying on with what you decided to ask.

“Can you tell me more about yourself? You don’t have to share your whole life story, I just want to know more about you. Whatever you’re comfortable with sharing.”

He smiled widely at you before nodded and leaning back, propping himself up with his elbows before he began to talk, his eyes following you as you laid down on your side, getting yourself comfortable on your elbow, face rested in the palm of your hand.

“I’m from Sydney, Australia,” he began, his eyes glazing over now as he let the past come to the surface and spew from his mouth. For the next two hours, the two of you got to know one another almost inside and out. Within a week that consisted of three face-to-face meetings and a lot of texting, the two of you had pretty much become best friends.

Three months had passed since you first started talking to Chris. The two of you spent every off-day together and you had gotten the chance to grow close to his members. Within those three months, you had also gotten gig-casted by an entertainment company called FNC. Based on your research, they had their fair share of K-Rock groups and you hoped you’d be able to fit in nicely once everything was said and done.

Once you had revealed the news to Chris, he had insisted that he and the boys take you out for a celebratory dinner. Of course, you couldn’t pass up the opportunity and ended up having a blast with the boys as they congratulated you on passing the auditions to get into FNC.

Chris had done his best to explain the ins and outs and pros and cons to the whole contracted music production stuff and, while you understood for the most part, there were still things you didn’t understand but would soon figure out. Chris had warned that you could spend up to seven or eight years as a trainee, but he had also reassured you that, due to your age and self-done practice, you would probably only be a trainee for about a year or two. If FNC really wanted to push it, then maybe they would keep you in for three.

Once the talk about the more stressful bits to being an “idol” were done and over with, it was back to the celebrating. It had been a fun night where those older than nineteen had a bit to drink and those younger sat back and watched their friends slowly lose the ability to speak straight.

Come the following week, marking the first day off of practice that you got since you joined FNC, Chris had wanted to meet you by the river. Of course, you agreed to the meeting, wanting to see him at least once before he went on tour and you got back to training for debut.

“Hey!” you said happily, jogging over to him as you spotted him staring out at the glistening water, the sun reflecting back on your eyes and almost making it seem like diamonds littered the top of the water.

Stopping by his side, you linked your arm with his, only to notice the small, black box he held in his hand. He slipped his arm out from yours before turning to you and opening the box. Inside, there was a ring. It wasn’t anything special, really. It was a gunmetal gray band that had an alternating pattern of stones.

The first was an extremely bright blue stone that he had revealed to be paraiba tourmaline stones, the tourmaline being one of the stones for the birth month of October. The second had been your own birthstone. From his pocket, he produced a sterling silver chain before pulling the ring out of the box and sliding it onto the chain. You found it amusing that he was making a show out of the whole ordeal, but you couldn’t say you minded. It was a sweet thought and you knew you’d probably keep the necklace and chain for ages to come. Hell, you’d probably end up being buried in the jewelry.

“Turn around,” he stated as he suppressed a smile, watching as you did so before reaching around to secure the ring and chain around your neck. Once he had clasped the chain, you turned back to face him before pulling him into a tight hug. He held you close, not wanting to let go, though you unfortunately had to after a few moments.

“Thank you so much, Chris… I appreciate it so much,” you said, your eyes glittering in happiness as you lifted the chain to examine the ring that had settled on your chest, crookedly clinging just to the right of your heart. On the inside, you noticed an engraving. Twisting the ring slightly on the chain, you noticed that it was your and Chris’ initials followed by “Forever with you!”

“You’re seriously the most amazing man I’ve ever met,” you cooed at him, your eyes lifting to look at him as the ring settled back down on your chest atop your shirt. “I swear, I didn’t do anything in my life to deserve a friend like you and yet, here you are,” you continued, a small smile of disbelief settling on your lips. “All because of the one day that my ex-friend decided to bail on me for his girlfriend…” you shook your head.

“Well, I for one am happy that we met. You’ve proven to be the absolute greatest person I’ve ever met. You’re funny and charming. Charismatic. Beautiful. You’ve made my heart stop in 101 different ways and more. I’ve been contemplating on saying this for the last couple of weeks, but I want to be with you as more than a friend. I want to be your boyfriend. We can be like shadows. No one has to know but us. If the time comes five, ten years down the line, then we can reveal ourselves. Until then, I just need you at my side and my group behind me and I will be unstoppable. I can be your Superman and you can be my Lois Lane.”

“Oh my god, you’re so cheesy,” you chuckled, smiling at the beautiful, brown-eyed man. “But I’ll take you up on that offer so long as no one else finds out,” you agreed, the biggest smile on your face. Finally, the flame of that childhood innocence and happiness reignited itself in full and you knew the only one who could ever snuff that flame again now was the man who had lit the wick of your soul.