#it's just... a thing to distract myself with

[crushedsweets]

CREEPED VISUAL NOVEL Link, tutorial, extra art, Q&A, some chatter

The CREEPED Prologue is completely free and browser-ready. Gameplay is about 10 minutes. Please read the "tutorial" and notes before playing!

Follow Y/N and their dog, Max, through their grandparents' farm and a mysterious forest filled with...less than fortunate people!

PLAY HERE; works best on PC

This visual novel is powered by GOOGLE SLIDES! It has 0 programming and was created by one person in a little over a month, so please bear with any "bugs" and clunkiness!

TUTORIAL

>Click using mouse/trackpad >Go slowly to not break game >Do not use arrow or space keys

EXTRA NOTES:

>Works best on PC/Browser, I haven't tested the full game on mobile yet >In general, clicking the PNGs on the textbox (Apple, Teddy Bear, Hatchet, etc) will lead you to the right page >If you land on a page that tells you to "go back," that's when you should click the back-arrow key. If your cursor disappears, it doesn't register the click correctly >I recommend moving your cursor periodically to avoid it disappearing and sending you to the wrong page

EXTRA ART

some WIPS and the original sprite-style i was gonna choose LOOOOOOOL

Q&A

Q: Is this an x reader? A: This is a reader-insert, but it's not romantic and I try to keep it as neutral and unidentifiable as possible! Q: What's the plot? A: GENERALLY AND WITHOUT SPOILERS, your dog gets you into trouble and you're just looking to help him!

Q: Who is in the prologue? A: Tim, Brian, Toby, and Kate! More will be added in future chapters.

Q: When will future chapters be posted? A: Not sure! This took me about a month to do, and half was spent over winter break. I will try to get chapter 1 posted before summer, but I am a full-time student, employed, have extracurriculars, etc etc

ok thats all i only remember 4 questions feel free to ask more LMAO

CHATTER(because you know i can talk forever)

ok i just wanted to be able to talk about how the process was with this and how i feel about the results and whatnot...

ive been wanting to make a google slides visual novel since i was like 13 LOL it hit the point where i was repeatedly told i should just learn to code but i was like NOOOOO ITS GOTTA BE GOOGLE SLIDESSSS which is totally stupid but hey. i think that gives it some sort of simple charm that reminds me of being 16 and doing little projects in my room LOL i like working with the easiest tools . my bad

anyway. im just very happy LOL. it's not perfect but i feel like i came full circle in a sense?!?! i've been into creepypasta since i was 9 and it comforted me when things were really hard, and when i was 18 i was going through a really hard time and got back into creepypasta as a way to distract myself. i've always had a habit of throwing myself into fiction for escapism when things suuucked.

i'm 20 now but i've met SO many amazing people, had so many fun awesome exciting projects with friends, created tons of stuff im proud of, felt more motivated to create since i was like 13, have been inspired by so many amazing artists/authors on here, etc. just so so so lucky to find community in such a tight-knit cute fandom that thrives off of creativity and playing around! i hope i can keep the momentum and make a couple more chapters this year, but im kinda busy with school and work...LOL . i'm just excited to have this posted so i can have more discussion about it T_T

anyway thank you if you read this far and thank you if you played etc etc yaahhhhhh omg ok BYE THIS IS SO EMBARRASSING im just so grateful to be in this fandom

[detectivedarling]

As with all things in life, one fact builds on the other, and a lot stands behind the current situation. First, Danny counts in his head, ghost fights are hard to capture on video. Second, the few videos taken of Phantom not in a fight are carefully kept secret. Third, sending those videos over any form of internet seems more dangerous than it's worth.

It's why Bruce, two years after Danny told him about his previous vigilante life, still has only seen Phantom in the mostly low quality videos he could scrounge up from the internet. Which was, admittedly, a lot. Bruce is pretty good when it comes to that. Danny doesn't think Tucker would have been able to find everything Bruce has, and Danny knows for sure he himself wouldn't have found half. If even a third. Not that he was ever much interested in finding videos of himself, seeing his ass get kicked from a different perspective never sounded particularly fun.

But here he sits, next to Bruce, with a high priority, carefully cushioned post package. A simple USB and film card sits inside the many layers of bubble wrap.

Tucker jumped on new technology the second he was able, curious for all things digital, while Sam more often stuck to the old and 'better' looking devices. The film card is hers, from the years after she got a ridiculously expensive and old fashioned camera for her birthday and used it with dedication. It was nearly all aesthetic shots and poetic, environmental moments, but she had some special film cards for filming her life, her friends. She had an even more special card for filming when Phantom was involved.

She rarely did. The film needed to be hidden carefully, so no one sniffing through her stuff could find any hints to Danny's identity. Tucker's occasional digital photo or video were always copied to an equally hidden USB and scrubbed from whatever he used to film on. Danny, for all that his family had never once snooped in his stuff, didn't dare save anything.

Bruce starts with the film card because Danny asks him to. He sets up something compatible, and the film starts with a scratch and a laugh, Danny's breath stolen away as he looks at Sam's bedroom, from before she hung up the goth-ified star string lights Danny and Tucker had gifted her on her thirteenth birthday. Her TV is colorful, the image of a scoreboard for Mario Kart with flashing images of racers. Danny leans in to read. Sam is in first, he's in seventh, and Tucker just barely managed to claim eleven.

Which is why she recorded the video. Tucker covers the scoreboard with his body, just a little too late. I was distracted, okay?! His voice carries through the speakers as he yells at her, eyes pointed behind the camera. Sam as laughing, that fun middle ground of mocking and friendly.

"I'm injured," Danny mumbles, barely speaking over Tuckers ranting. He can't bear to cover the sound up. "Just- just a warning."

Bruce rubs a thumb over Danny's hand. He doesn't look away.

Sam almost giggles. Distracted, uh-huh, she teases and the camera turns to look at Danny beside her. At Phantom beside her.

It's a funny first video for Bruce to watch. Of all the (admittedly not very many) videos Danny's friends have taken of him as Phantom, the first Bruce sees is from the same day as the video Bruce was watching when Danny told him about being Phantom. It's the aftermath of a ghost fight.

Phantom is bleeding. He's sitting on a mess of towels, under and behind him to prevent any ectoplasm from getting on Sam's chair. His right eye is shut, the mess of blood splattered over his face during the fight cleaned away, but a thin trail of it still drops from under it. His left arm is sluggishly dripping blood and sucking it back up. It's cut off at the mid point of his forearm, grown from his elbow. It would take a few more hours before the hand comes back fully formed. His eye shouldn't take much more than one, at the time of the video.

His shoulders are shaking. Phantom is bleeding, injured and dismembered, but his shoulders are shaking from the laugh he can barely hold in.

Our seventh placer, everybody, Sam speaks to an audience that was never meant to include any more than the three of them. Danny can't imagine Bruce not watching alongside him. Not distracted like our dear Tuck.

Sometimes Danny would come out of a rough ghost fight wishing for nothing more than to grieve in peace. To lay and be in pain, to be alone or comforted quietly by his friends. Sometimes Danny wanted the room to be as somber as he felt. Other times he needed to be alive, even as he couldn't transform back before he finished healing, he needed to be present and distracted, he needed to be pulled away from the pain of being pulled apart. This was one of those times.

Phantom falls back against the cushion, laughing. It hiccups with the blood in his lungs, but it's happy and free.

Tucker groans. I wanna play Doomed

The camera turns down as Sam prepares to stop her filming. Build Danny a setup for playing one handed instead of whining next time. Until then, it's Mario Kart.

The video ends.

im dedicating this to @detectivedarling. i felt inspired after seeing their little ficlet yesterday sadhjfl 🫶

-

Danny's grip on his cane tightens.

"What—"

His voice cracks. He stops, clears it, then tries again in spite of the nausea twisting in his gut. "What are — you, uh, watching, Bruce?" He sounds horribly far away.

Bruce doesn't look at him, his attention laser-focused on the screen. Which is— fine. It's usually not a problem, Bruce gets like that when he hyper-focuses on a case, and unless it's urgent — or he's been at it for hours — Danny sees no need to pull him away from it. He likes the quiet camaraderie they have, it's companionable and unique to the two of them.

He wishes he was right now though. Looking at him, that is.

That way he wasn't watching what was clearly one of Danny's ghost fights. One of the nastier ones, if the collateral damage and rubble on the street is of any indication.

Danny tries to remember which one that is. He shuffles a little closer to the desk, ignoring the rock in his stomach or the ugly weightlessness in his arms. It's not the blood blossoms, that much he knows. He just recently had an injection so it shouldn't be bothering him this soon—

So it's just nerves. Perfect.

Most footage of his fights are— messy, at best. Unusable at worst. Amity Park was obsessed with appearing 'normal' when they first started happening, and typical news stations censor the worst of the fights anyways for publishing, since they can get pretty gory at times. And ghosts move too fast to be caught on regular standard cameras, not including distance and light and—

That is to say— finding usable ghost fight videos is hard.

Danny wonders how Bruce got his hands on this one, and then stops wondering.

The audio is muted, which is - good. Good, because the fight is ugly and chaotic and clearly this was taken on someone's phone. Fuck, he can't remember if he ever saw that before — clearly not. They're hiding behind an overturned car, and Danny grits his teeth so he doesn't tell that idiot to run.

The camera turns up, and focuses on two figures in the air. It takes a few seconds, but when it does, Danny gets hit with a wave of vertigo. His grip tightens and he leans heavily on his cane, he waits for the black dots to disappear.

He- uh, he remembers this fight now. Uh, sort of.

He remembers being twelve at the time, and he remembers some of the injuries he got out of it. His eyelid spasms abruptly. This ghost wasn't one of his regulars, so he doesn't remember whatever name they had, barely remembered what they looked like up until- uh. Now.

Was he always that small? Well— Phantom's never been particularly big, perks of being a dead kid, but— it's - different. Seeing it from an outsider perspective. Was he that small? Or is it just because he's wearing a jumpsuit clearly too big for him that casts the illusion of being small?

Doesn't really - matter. Now. He can't access his ghost form, and he already knows the answers to his appearance.

Phantom is clearly bleeding, viscous and violently green like the bubbles of a lava lamp, clutching onto a limp shoulder that's missing an arm from the elbow down. Half his face is drenched in similar blood, the eye on the drenched side is closed — not because he can't see through the ectoplasm.

Danny's memories of that fight slowly come in a bit clearer. Right. He took a pole to the eye in that one. That had - hurt. A lot. Getting an eye gouged out usually does. It and the missing arm took hours to grow back.

He rubs his eye with his palm for no other reason than it itches.

The other ghost isn't untouched of any injury either, but he's not in a state of dismemberment like Phantom is.

Danny drops his gaze down at Bruce, whose sitting in his chair with his hands threaded together, looking so tense that Danny half expects to meet solid steel if he were to touch his back. His face is - blank. Terribly blank, with an intensity in his eyes that Danny doesn't see often.

He looks terribly distressed.

He opens his mouth, and finds that nothing comes out. His throat is thick with an ugly, tar-like feeling that makes his eyes sting. Kinda reminds him of when someone wraps their hands around your throat and presses. He closes his mouth, then tries again.

"B—" hhhhhh, "Buzz."

Finally Bruce looks at him, one hand slaps the space button on the keyboard, and the video pauses. His expression doesn't shift, but there's a weight in the lines of his face that reminds Danny of a set of weights sagging.

He looks quite like he's grieving something.

Bruce opens his mouth, his voice comes out terribly soft and heartbroken: "He looks like you."

Which is— a terrifying sentence in and of itself. One that makes Danny's legs shake and ignite his ragged, poison-chewed nerves alight with the need to run. An instinctive urge to deny, deny, deny.

How could he? He could say, that's a ghost, Bruce. I'm not a ghost. He could crack a joke, and ask, 'do I look dead to you?' or say something about how he knows that his parents studied ghosts, but that didn't make him one.

He could say that, and he could say it knowing full well that Bruce would see right through it. He'd probably let Danny too.

Danny closes his eyes. They sting, you see? So does his nose, right in the back like someone popped him in the face. And his throat is thick and gross and like someone stuck a spider, the big fat tarantula kind, right down into his esophagus.

He breathes in — through his mouth, because his nose stings and so it'd be best not to irritate it further with air — and it's terribly shaky and uneven. But it clears a pathway to his lungs big enough for him to say — whisper, really:

"You know, I think you're the first person to notice that."

[thechaoticcherub]

Love your writing!!! 💕 Could you pretty please write a soft, domestic, doting daddy Joel and his college baby girl who is just so exhausted from all her studying. (Smutty) thank you love!

Hello!!!!! This turned super smutty honestly with some power dynamics and I less sweet and more...horny. I hope you enjoy it anyway!

Study For Me

Pairing: Daddy!Joel x student reader

Summary: Joel helps you study for your econ exam

Warnings: 18+, AU no cordyceps, fingering, pussy spanking, dd/lg dynamic, power dynamics, bad econ terms lmao, studying, edging, joel is a lil mean, joel is a strict daddy, reader says no a few times but doesn't really mean it.

Word Count: 2.6K

Notes: I always mean for these to be shorter but I cant manage it. This is not edited AT ALL. I'm so sorry about my lack of knowledge of econ.

Wanna read something specific for Joel Miller? Send me a request!!

You were lying on your tummy in front of the fireplace in Joel’s living room, your economics book was open in front of you and you were trying your hardest to study for the test you had on Monday. In retrospect maybe spending the weekend at Joel’s place when you should be studying wasn’t the best idea but you didn’t want to be away from him. The backdoor opened and Joel came in tracking mud from the rain and bringing in more firewood. 

You watched as he walked in front of you, bent down and  put another log on the fire. 

“Daddy,” you whined, letting your head drop onto your book. Joel looked around at you and sighed, 

“Babygirl, you gotta finish that chapter,” He instructed. “I ain’t goin’ to be able to forgive myself if ya fail your exam ‘cause you spent all weekend at your daddy’s place.” He reached over and stroked your hair back, your forehead still resting against your book. You whined and wiggled your bottom hoping to entice him to distract you further. 

“I hate econ,” You whined, all you wanted was for him to tell you that you could close the book but you knew that he would be strict with you and make sure you did your studying. 

“I know, little girl, you’re bein’ so brave and good, workin’ your little tushy off,” Joel ran his hand from the back of your head down your back and onto your bottom. He gave it a squeeze and you pressed your hips back towards his hand. “Uh-uh-uh,” he tsked. “Do your work,” he said. 

You looked back at your econ  text book and pouted, trying to highlight important passages and answer the prep questions correctly. You were quiet, working and listening to the rain while Joel walked around the house doing little things, changing the batteries in the fire alarm, changing a lightbulb in the kitchen and turning the oven on to make a pizza for dinner. Ever since Joel had grabbed your bottom you had felt a little warm, you didn’t want to finish the chapter even though you were getting closer. You still had all your prep questions to answer. 

“Daddy!!!” You called from the living room. Joel appeared behind the couch a moment later. 

“What is it, babygirl?” He asked, looking down at you while you kicked your feet back, looking up at him from where you were lounging while you attempted to finish studying. 

“Can you help me with my prep questions?” You asked. Joel sighed and walked around the couch, he leaned down to look over your shoulder at the questions. He blew a breath as he thought, most of the time when you were working on schoolwork, or telling him about classes, the things you were learning made him feel stupid but you seemed desperate for some help. 

“Okay, babygirl, why don’t I quiz ya?” He said, and then he had an idea and smiled to  himself, looking at you. Joel sat down by your legs and then  reached over to your hips and tugged you down, turning you over so you were on your back. 

“Oof,” You said as he did it and you giggled. 

“Hand me your book, babygirl.” He said. You reached behind you and picked up your book, handing it off to him. He laid it next to him, open to the page with the questions and then wrapped his arms under your knees and tugged you down so your body was closer to his. “Daddy’s got an idea to make studyin’ a bit more fun.” He said. You giggled and looked up at him from where you were lying, 

“Yeah, daddy?” You asked. He nodded and reached up under your skirt, he tucked his fingers into your undies and started to tug them down, 

“Lift you hips up for me, little girl,” he instructed. You lifted your hips up and he slipped your undies down off of you. “Good girl, open your legs up for daddy and I’ll explain the rules for my studyin’ game,” He waited patiently for you. You tentatively pulled your legs open, exposing your pussy to him. Joel reached down and stroked over your pubic mound, watching as you started to squirm. 

“I’ll ask you one of your questions, if you get it right…I work ya up, strokin’ you and gettin’ you all excited.” He said. You nodded excitedly. 

“Okay!” You said

“But,” He tapped his finger against the very apex of your slit. You wiggled again. “If you get somethin’ wrong, Daddy gives you a spank…” he tapped your cunt again, ‘Right here,” he added. You shuddered but nodded. 

“Okay, Daddy,” you agreed. 

“Once you get five questions right, Daddy will make you come,” Joel smiled and you could see a mischievous glint in his eye.  You nodded and felt warmth pool in your belly at the thought. “Keep your pretty legs spread for Daddy,” He warned you and you tugged your knees even further apart.  Joel watched your slit open slightly, starting to expose the pretty folds of your pussy. 

“First question,” He said, glancing at the book next to him. “What do you give up to get a specific item?” He asked. You knew this one right away, you remembered reading it. You grinned,

“Opportunity cost!” You said excitedly. It took Joel a second to find where the answer key was and he nodded.

“Good girl,” He praised, he moved his thick fingers to your slit and watched as he gently began to spread your lips open, showing off your soft, folds and your pretty clit. “aw, look at that,” Joel cooed and started to stroke your clit in wide circles, being careful not to brush over your clit. Joel watched you clench and press your hips up towards him. 

“Oooh Daddy!” You moaned, “Thats…oh thats good,” You whined. Your wetness started to spread from your leaking hole all round your slit, glistening over your clit. Your eyes connected with Joel and you smiled, “Daddy, please just…keep going,” You begged. Joel chuckled and stroked his pointer finger across your clit, watching it twitch as you let out a moan. 

“Sorry, darlin’, gotta keep asking’ you questions,” He laughed and you wiggled your hips closer to him as he tugged his hand back away from you.

“But what if you didn’t and we just played instead?” you tried and Joel shook his head seriously,

“Be a good girl,” He warned, “next question:” He cleared his throat, “What is physical capital?” He asked. Your grinned, again, you knew the answer and you were suddenly feeling better about getting to give right answers. That would be easy, 

“Labor!” You said. Joel checked your answer and immediately started to praise you,

“You’re such a smart girl,” He cooed as Joel began to stroke you again, first circling your clit in a slow and easy, dizzying pattern. You wanted to beg for more but you knew he was going to stick to his word. Then he traced his thick finger down to your hole, leaking all over your pussy, dripping down onto the floor. Joel stroked over your entrance, watching your pussy, his eyes examining you as you tugged your legs open more. 

“Please put it in, Daddy.” You said, your voice sweet and needy. 

“I know ya want that babygirl,” He said, nodding. “But you’re going to have to wait.” he tugged his hand away from you just before the tip of his finger would have sunk into you. You whined. and pulled your legs back more, trying to expose more of yourself to him to get him to touch you more. “Next question:” He continued and you humped up into the air. 

“When the entire demand curve shifts due to change in factors effect supply other than price?” He asked and your heart immediately sank because it could easily be two answers but you were horny and confused. You couldn’t think straight. You just wanted to say the right thing so that you could get him to touch you more. You tried to remember the section you were reading about this. The thought of getting spanked instead of more touches scared you, your brain wasn’t working and so you blurted out,

“Shift in demand,” 

Joel looked down at the book and you knew instantly you were wrong. “Sorry, babygirl, keep those legs open.” He told you. You whined,

“No! No! it’s the other one! Shift in…sh-shift in su-supply!” You whined. 

“I’m sorry, babygirl, ya got it wrong.” He explained. You wiggled and whined and he took your thigh and forced it open. Smack, smack, smack. Three sharp, fast smacks landed against your pussy lips and you let out a gasping cry. “Shh, shh,” Joel said, “Reach down and spread your lips open for me, babygirl. Lemme see that lil’ clit and then we’ll be done.” You tentatively reached down and took your lips in your fingers, gently spreading yourself open to him. It felt so vulgar and wrong and you knew he was about to slap your clit but you didn’t really have a choice. Smack. Smack. Two more stinging smacks directly over your clit made you squirm in pain and need. Joel’s big hand sweetly cupped your vulva, thumb stroking over your lips as he soothed the pain, “Good girl, remember that sting when you’re takin’ your exam.” he said. You nodded and let go of your lips, moving your hand up to cover your face and take a deep breath, trying to clear your head some. 

“Next question,” Joel said, he looked down at the book, “What is the law of supply?” He asked. You whined, you weren’t sure if you knew it and everything felt on fire, your brain, your pussy. Your breath hitched in your chest and you pressed your hips up, 

“I don’t know, daddy.” You whined. 

“Try to think, sweet girl,” Joels hand rubbed your hip softly, soothingly. “You can do this,” He said. You kept thinking, you weren’t sure if you knew it but you could see the section in the book that talked about it. 

“I can’t…I don’t…please…” You begged and watched as Joel shook his head. 

“Come up with the answer in five seconds, babygirl or Daddy’s goin’ to have to spank ya again,” he said. You whined even louder, getting frustrated. “Five…four…” Your brow furrowed and you remembered you highlighted it, knowing it would be on the test. “Three…two…”

“As price of good increases, quantity of supply decreases!” You spewed the answer as the imagine of the highlighted words entered your minds eye. 

“Good girl!” Joel said as he looked at the book, a grin breaking out of over his lips. He immediately began the gentle stroking over your clitoris once again. He softly reached down with his other hand and spread your lips, tugging the hood of your clit back so he could very precisely stroke directly over your clit over and over again. Burning pleasure seared through you, you felt like it was too much but you knew better than to try and close your legs. You let out a loud moan, wanting more. This time Joel didn’t stop stroking you as he read the next question,

“What is the tool that measures cost of living and inflation rate? It was created by bureau of labor statistics.” He asked as his thumb stayed on your clit, stroking up and around it, watching it swell up. You needed to get this right, you wouldn’t be able to take it if he had to slap your pussy again.

“Con-con….consumer price…in-index!” you whined out and Joel nodded, continuing to stroke you. He gave your clit a break by starting to stroke your hole with his middle finger, creamy wetness made soft noises while he teased your entrance, just barely pushing the tip of his finger into you. “Daddy’s got you, good girl, let’s keep going. Almost there.” He said. You nodded desperately. 

“What is the amount of a good sellers are able & willing to sell at a particular price?” He asked and your brain was complete mush so you spoke before you thought, 

“Quantity of  demand,” You immediately knew you misspoke, “No!” You cried. “No! Thats wrong,” You moaned and Joel nodded, 

“I know it’s wrong,” he cooed stopping his gentle ministrations at your hole. “Aw sweetie,” he said, pulling  his hand back, “You were so close.” He said. You whined and shook your head, 

“No! Daddy! Please! Please! Do another question! No! Please!” You cried out and he sighed. 

“I’m sorry babygirl, you know Daddy doesn’t like to hurt you,” He lied. You could see the glint in his eyes and you squirmed. He lifted his hand and you watched, nervous as his hand came down hard on your  cunt. Smack, smack, smack, smack. Repeatedly, over and over he smacked the lips of your pulsing pussy. It burned. Your cunt lips were turning red and your clit was aching with need. Three more slow smacks were administered to your pussy, each harder than the last. You whimpered and whined, squirmed while Joel held your thighs apart with one hand. 

“Good girl,” he said. “Daddy knows it hurts, I know.” He teased. “But you gotta get another answer right.” Joel soothingly stroked the mound of your pussy. Joel looked down at the book and smirked, 

“What is economics?” He asked and relief flooded through you. 

“The study of how a society manages it’s scarce resourses,” You answered right away and you watched Joel’s eyes soften and he grinned. 

“There’s my smart lil’ lady,” he said. He dragged his hand from your low tummy and down onto your pubic mound and finally to your lips. “Do you want to come?” He asked. You nodded vigorously. “That’s my cute girl,” He said, Joel eyes seemed to drink you up as you pulled your legs open wider, showing off your glistening cunt to him. Joel’s fingers teased around your clit, “Ohh my sweet honey, girl.” He said, “Your lil clits peekin’ out at me, she’s gettin’ pretty swollen for me, aint she?” He asked as he used the wetness from your pussy to wet your clit and circled it. You whined, your voice needy, your pussy aching. You were twitching as Joel watched himself tease you towards a frenzy. 

“How’s your cunt, babygirl? She needy too?” He asked. You nodded. “Use your words for me, darlin’” He laughed. 

“Yes Daddy, she’s so needy.” You whined. Joel traced his finger down your folds to your entrance and slowly eased the thick finger into you, feeling you stretch open. You let out a moan. He dragged his finger back out only to add a second one and shove them back in, plugging you up. 

“Good girl, take daddy’s fingers.” He said. “You earned this, didn’t ya?” he said, “Bein’ so smart,” He rocked his fingers in and out of you now, his thumb pressing into your clit with each thrust. You squealed as the feeling mounted in your pussy. Your orgasm had been teased out of you for so long while you answered your questions that you were desperate for it. Joel could feel that your orgasm was close, “Ask for what you need, babygirl.” He said. 

“Daddy! Please make me come! Please! PLEASE!” You begged, your voice raising to practically a cry. Joel nodded, 

“You’re such a good girl, take my fingers,” he said as his finger pushed in and out of you, pressing against your g-spot while his thumb swirled against your clit. 

“I’m coming, daddy! I’m coming!” You cried as the feeling burst over you and something inside you snapped. You bucked your hips against his fingers and you let out a needy sob. Joel stroked you through your orgasm, pumping his fingers into you and only slowing down as you collapsed back. Joel leaned over you and pressed his lips to yours, 

“You are such a smart girl,” He said into your lips, “We’re going to have to make this a habit for studying time,” he said. 

[spookythesillyfella]

eepy ...

[fangdokja]

🔞"You like happy endings? Too bad. I don’t write those."

❤︎ Synopsis. He was the omnipotent author, the cruel god behind the screen—until he decided to step into the story himself, turning ink and paper into flesh and bone, pain and pleasure. Now, trapped within his twisted narrative, you are both his muse and his masterpiece, rewritten and defiled with every stroke of his pen.

♡ Book. Whispers in the Dark (WITD): Subtle Devotion, Lingering Shadows.

♡ Pairing. Yandere! Author x Fem. Reader

♡ Headcanons. Fate’s Final Draft - Part 2

♡ Word Count. 6,077

♡ TW. dom + top + older + sadistic yandere, general non-con + manipulation, rape, psychological manipulation and conditioning, fear play, emotional manipulation and abuse, psychological and emotional trauma, isolation, monitoring, lack of boundaries, non-con kissing and/or touching, forced relationship, BDSM, cannibalism + vore, gore, torture, death, angst + tragedy, bombing, penetration using objects, forced penetration, implied + slight masochism

♡ A/N. Sex without true danger is boring as shiz. And yanderes without the fear factor aren't peak yanderes. They're just on the possessive or vanilla shiz. Pathetic. Yanderes have to actually scare the shiz out of you. Because that's how true horror is. It doesn't even have to be gore, of course! These are my rules for myself when writing my "true yanderes". But, I suppose most authors don't want to severely hurt, much less kill the darling, especially if they're actual readers. Aw, but don't worry, I'm different. None of you are truly safe in my stories ahaha. Anyways, this is the second part I was talking about for Yandere! Author. I was trying to find yandere horror content for actual sadistic yanderes that can and will kill the darling, but can't find anything! Ugh, people always want soft, sub, comedic, or braindead sex yanderes, and no true danger of actual MC suffering and death.... WHERE IS THE HORROR. It's always just either pure horror or baseline (or worse braindead smut) yanderes. No proper mixing and cooking of the elements! dsjkfalds I'm starving for content.... Fine, I'll do it myself. Yanderes that will hurt, and may kill you. Happy Valentines, you're welcome. uhahaha.

♡ Yandere! Author, who never gets jealous. Not in the way normal people do. He doesn’t feel that tight coil of possessiveness, that human bitterness. No, his jealousy is something far worse—something that twists, mutates, and takes shape in the form of a game.

"You’re distracted," he says, voice lilting, amused. "Your attention is... scattered. Like a kitten chasing too many strings."

He taps his fingers against his chin, head tilting in mock thought. "And here I thought you’d learned by now. That the only string worth chasing is mine."

♡ Yandere! Author, who watches you interact with others, not with anger, but with a quiet, lingering curiosity.

"You’re always so helpful, aren’t you?" he hums, stepping closer, his breath warm against your ear. "So kind. Picking up strays, offering soft words, being the ever-so-gentle protagonist. How utterly dull."

He chuckles, a sharp, manic edge cutting through the sound.

"But I suppose it’s my fault," he sighs. "I’ve been far too lenient with you. Letting you walk around, letting you play with all these little characters. Letting you breathe."

His eyes darken, his grin stretching too wide.

"I should remind you of what happens when you take my attention for granted."

♡ Yandere! Author, who crafts stories of tragedy and despair, who delights in pain and suffering like a composer weaving a symphony.

"But this time," he says, fingers tracing idly along your arm, "I won’t just watch."

His grip tightens, just enough to make you feel it.

"You like playing hero, don’t you? Always trying to defy the script, to make things better for others?" He exhales a mockingly wistful sigh. "How sweet. How naive."

A shiver of amusement runs through him as he leans in, whispering against your skin.

"So let’s play a little game, shall we?"

♡ Yandere! Author, who spins scenarios of horror and despair, who orchestrates nightmares with the precision of a masterful puppeteer.

"Tell me," he muses, voice dripping with saccharine malice. "How do you think your precious little cast would react if they saw you... like this?"

He hums, thoughtful.

"Torn apart. Begging. Ruined."

His fingers brush against your throat, slow, deliberate.

"Would they still look at you the same way? Would they still adore you?" His voice drops lower, threading with something almost gentle, almost loving. "Would you?"

♡ Yandere! Author, who always remained an observer, a sadistic god behind the screen, watching his creations squirm.

But now?

Now, he’s stepped into the story.

And this time, he’s the one writing the scene.

────────────

You woke up to the cold, sticky embrace of blood-soaked earth beneath you, the metallic scent of death thick in the air.

♡ Yandere! Author towered above you, his silhouette framed by the flickering candles scattered around the room, casting eerie shadows across the faces of the lifeless bodies that surrounded you.

His eyes gleamed with a dark excitement as they raked over you, and he licked his lips in a way that sent shivers down your spine. "Look what you've done, my dear," he mused, gesturing to the carnage.

"You've made me clean up your mess again."

You stared at the decapitated heads, the sight of their vacant eyes hauntingly familiar, as he stepped closer, his foot squelching in the pool of crimson beneath your trembling form.

"I hope you're ready for your punishment," he said, his voice a dark, seductive purr that made your stomach twist with fear and disgust.

"You've been a very naughty girl, making me jealous like that." His hand reached for the hem of your top, and you knew that this night was going to be one of the worst you'd ever endure.

As ♡ Yandere! Author tore the fabric from your body, leaving you exposed to the chilling air, you felt his anger like a living force, a palpable entity that wrapped around you, squeezing until you couldn’t breathe. "You think you can play games with me?" he hissed, his fingers digging into your skin.

"You think you can ignore me and flirt with my characters?" He grabbed your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze. His eyes burned with a possessive fury that made you feel like you were drowning.

"You belong to me," he spat, the words echoing in your ears like a curse.

"And I will show you exactly what that means." His touch grew rougher, more punishing, as he yanked your legs apart, the sound of his zipper like a gunshot in the tense silence.

With a sadistic smile, ♡ Yandere! Author positioned himself between your thighs, his erection a blunt, unyielding presence against your trembling flesh.

"Look around you," he ordered, gesturing to the grisly scene.

"These are the consequences of your disobedience. Your carelessness." He leaned in, his breath hot and rancid. "Do you like your audience?"

♡ Yandere! Author didn't wait for a response, thrusting into you with a brutal force that made you scream.

The dead eyes of the characters you once knew bore into you, a silent, damning judgment as he claimed you again and again, each stroke a declaration of his dominance. The pain was intense, a stark reminder that you were his plaything, his to manipulate and control.

♡ Yandere! Author grabbed your wrists, pinning them above your head with one hand, while the other trailed down your body, leaving a path of shivers in its wake.

His grip tightened, his teeth sinking into your neck as he slammed into you, your cries muffled by his mouth. You could feel the sticky warmth of blood from the nearby corpses, a morbid reminder of his power as he fucked you with a ferocity that was both terrifying and arousing.

The smell of death and decay filled the air, mixing with the scent of sex and sweat.

♡ Yandere! Author didn't bother to clean you up; he liked the mess, the reminder of what he'd done.

"You're so beautiful like this," he murmured, his voice thick with lust.

"So vulnerable, so fucking perfect." His other hand found your throat, squeezing gently.

"You're mine. Do you understand?" He emphasized his words with a particularly vicious thrust, making you gag.

His eyes gleamed with a twisted mix of pleasure and malice as he watched you struggle under him, surrounded by the grisly remnants of his narrative wrath.

♡ Yandere! Author had always enjoyed the thrill of watching his characters suffer, but there was something uniquely satisfying about seeing you, the protagonist he had grown to both despise and adore, at his mercy.

His grip on your throat tightened as he pumped into you, the warm, sticky mess of blood and gore from the slain characters around you coating both of you, a macabre reminder of his power.

"Look at me," he ordered, his voice a harsh rasp. "Look at me when I fuck you."

You refused, turning your head away and doing your best to muffle your voice.

With a snarl of frustration, he reaches for his signature fountain pen, the gleaming silver instrument that had so often been the harbinger of fate in his grimdark narratives.

♡ Yandere! Author presses the tip of the pen against your left eyelid, watching with a perverse fascination as your pupil contracts in terror.

"Look at me," he repeats, his voice a harsh whisper that sends shivers down your spine. "Or would you rather I show you how serious I am?"

Before you can react, he drives the pen straight into your eye, the sharp tip piercing the tender flesh with ease. A scream tears from your throat, your body arching in agony as the warm, wet sensation fills your socket.

The world goes blurry, your vision obscured by a curtain of pain, but you can still feel him thrusting into you, his movements growing more erratic and frenzied as he watches you suffer.

The pen digs deeper, the ink mixing with your tears and blood, painting a crimson streak down your cheek.

♡ Yandere! Author pulls out the pen, leaving your eye a ruin, and throws it aside with a satisfied smirk.

"Scream all you want," he says, his voice dripping with malice.

"They can't hear you." He gestures to the lifeless bodies that surround you, their vacant eyes seemingly watching the gruesome display with silent judgment.

♡ Yandere! Author leans in closer, his breath hot against your face as he whispers, "But I can. And I fucking love it." His grip on your throat tightens, cutting off your air supply until your vision starts to darken at the edges.

With a twisted smile, he reaches for the second pen, the gleaming metal reflecting the sickly light from the candles scattered around the room.

You can feel the anticipation coiling in his muscles, the thrill of his sadistic desires about to be satiated once again. He presses the tip against your other eye, watching you with a mix of hunger and disgust as you whimper and squirm beneath him.

"Look at me," he commands, his voice low and filled with malice. "Look at what you've made me do."

You try to turn your head away, but his grip is unyielding.

The cold steel of the pen pierces the soft flesh of your right eyelid, and you can feel the warmth of your blood trickle down your cheek.

The pain is blinding, stealing the last semblance of dignity you had. But you refuse to give him the satisfaction of hearing your screams. You bite your lip until you taste blood, your eyes struggling to squeeze shut tightly, trying to block out the horror of what's happening.

"Look at me," he repeats, his voice a dark symphony of desire and anger. "Look at the monster you've created."

With a sadistic flourish, ♡ Yandere! Author plunges the second pen into your right eye, the sharpened tip digging into the delicate tissue.

You feel a burst of searing agony as your eyeball ruptures under the intrusion, the gelatinous fluid mingling with the sticky blood already coating your face.

The pen slices through the ocular nerve, sending a shockwave of pain that echoes through your entire body.

You can't help but scream now, the sound a raw, primal wail that fills the room, bouncing off the walls and reverberating through the ears of the lifeless figures around you.

"Perfect," he murmurs, his voice thick with perverse pleasure as he watches you writhe and squirm beneath him.

♡ Yandere! Author swirls the pen around in the bloody mess that was once your eye, the metal grinding against the bone socket. "Scream for me, my little protagonist. Show everyone how much you enjoy this."

With a grunt of pleasure, he starts to thrust into you harder, the squelching sound of your mutilated flesh a symphony to his ears. His grip on your throat tightens even more, cutting off your air supply and turning your screams into desperate gasps.

Each movement of his hips sends fresh waves of agony through your body, the pain from your ruined eyes mixing with the brutal violation of your most intimate space.

You feel his hot breath on your cheek, his teeth grazing your skin as he whispers sweet nothings about how much you're his, how he's going to make sure you never forget this moment.

His lust spikes at the sound of your gargled screams, the sight of your ruined eyes, and the feel of your squirming body beneath him.

♡ Yandere! Author pulls the pen out of your right eye with a wet pop, a grin of sick satisfaction on his face as you try to clutch at the empty socket, only to encounter the sticky mess of your own blood and viscous fluid.

He throws the pen aside, his focus now fully on your suffering and the ragged sounds of your breathing. He grabs your chin, forcing your face towards his, his other hand digging into your hip. His eyes, now wild with desire, bore into yours—what's left of them—as he starts to fuck you with a fervor that borders on violence.

His eyes gleam with a twisted hunger as he brings your ruined right eye closer to his mouth. You can feel his breath hot and heavy on your face, his tongue darting out to taste the coppery tang of your blood.

With a sickening slurp, ♡ Yandere! Author begins to lick around the wound, his tongue swirling in the bloody mess that was once your eye. The sensation sends shivers down your spine, a mix of revulsion and pain that makes you want to scream, but his hand around your throat won't allow it.

His teeth clamp down on the gelatinous flesh, tearing a chunk of it away from the socket.

He chews, savoring the taste of your suffering, your essence, the very core of your being. You feel him swallow, the motion sending a bolt of horror through your body that's almost as intense as the agony of his teeth in your face.

He laughs, the sound echoing through the room of dead characters, their lifeless forms a silent audience to your degradation.

♡ Yandere! Author laughs harder as he consumes more of your eyeball, his teeth tearing into the delicate flesh and crunching through the gelatinous interior.

The sound is obscene, a symphony of his depravity playing out in the quiet room of the dead. Each bite sends a jolt of horror through your body, but the pain is a distant second to the realization of what he's doing.

Your mind reels, trying to process the grotesque intimacy of the act, the ultimate violation of your bodily autonomy.

♡ Yandere! Author pulls away, the last piece of your eyeball still caught between his teeth, his grin wider and more sadistic than ever. He leans in and whispers, "Mmm, so sweet," his breath hot against your ear, before swallowing the final piece.

He wipes the blood from his mouth with the back of his hand, smearing it across your cheek. "You're so much more entertaining when you fight back," he says, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

His other hand slides down your body, finding its way between your legs. He groans in pleasure as he feels the wetness there. "It's a shame you're not enjoying this more. I've written some of my best work when my characters are in pain." His fingers delve deeper, the pressure increasing until you're writhing beneath him.

As you try to struggle away from his vile touch, the his grip on your throat tightens, his fingers digging into the soft flesh around your windpipe.

♡ Yandere! Author laughs darkly, the sound echoing through the room like a chilling symphony of madness. "Oh, so you want to play hard to get?" His free hand reaches for the pen still stuck in your left eye socket, the metal now cold and slick with your blood.

"Let's see if this loosens you up a bit, shall we?" He says, a twisted glint in his eye as he pushes the pen deeper, the pain making your vision swim.

You feel the sickening crunch of your socket collapsing under the pressure, and the warm, wet sensation of your eye popping out, leaving nothing but a gaping hole filled with his digit.

"Perfect," he murmurs, his voice thick with lust.

♡ Yandere! Author pulls out his hand, bringing with it a fountain of crimson.

The room spins around you, and the world turns red with your agony. He holds up the ruined mess that was once your eye, examining it with a disturbing fascination. "This is what you get for making me jealous, you little whore."

He tosses it aside, the wet slap of it hitting the floor making you want to vomit. His hand moves back to your throat, squeezing harder, cutting off your air.

♡ Yandere! Author yanks you back down onto the makeshift bed of lifeless bodies, the cold, sticky blood of your former companions seeping through your clothes and into your skin.

His other hand is on your chin, forcing your face up to look at him. "You're going to scream for me now, aren't you?" His smile is wide, his teeth glinting in the flickering candlelight.

"You're going to scream like you've never screamed before, because this is your grand finale, isn't it?"

With a final, brutal thrust, he pulls out of your ravaged pussy, his cock slick with your blood and the juices of your pain.

♡ Yandere! Author grabs you by the hair and forces your head back, aiming his thick, pulsing shaft at your face. You can feel the warmth of his cum as it spurts out, painting your cheeks and filling your eye sockets with his seed.

The salty, bitter taste coats your tongue as he pushes into your mouth, his grip on your throat tightening.

He fucks your face with the same fervor he did your eyes, his hips bucking as he empties himself into you. Your throat is raw from his earlier assault, but you swallow his cum without protest, the taste of his dominance overwhelming your senses.

"Look at you," he pants, his eyes gleaming with sick satisfaction. "Such a good little slut, taking it all for your master."

♡ Yandere! Author releases your chin and wipes the last droplets of cum onto your cheek with his thumb, smearing it into your skin. "You never did know how to pick your battles, did you?"

His grin widens as he positions himself above you, the bloody corpse of your recent companion lying between your legs, your vision nothing but a blur of pain.

His cock, still slick with your tears and blood, slides back into your ruined eye sockets. You can feel the warmth of his semen coating the inside, the sensation sickeningly intimate.

♡ Yandere! Author starts to thrust in a slow, deliberate rhythm, his hands gripping your hair tightly as he uses the leverage to push even deeper. You want to scream, to beg for mercy, but all you can do is whimper, your throat raw from his previous assault.

The pain is unbearable, a symphony of agony that resonates through your entire being.

"Do you feel that?" he asks, his voice thick with lust. "The warmth of your storyline being rewritten, the essence of your existence being claimed by me?"

His thrusts become more vigorous, the sounds of squelching and slapping echoing through the room. The dead characters seem to watch in morbid fascination, a silent audience to your suffering. "You’re mine," he whispers, his breath hot against your cheek. "Every part of you, every drop of your despair—it’s all mine to savor."

You try to scream, but the only sound that leaves your throat is a wet gurgle. The pain is unbearable, each thrust sending shockwaves through your body, making you feel like you're being torn apart from the inside.

Yet, you find yourself unable to move, to fight back, your body a puppet to his twisted narrative. The warmth of his cum in your eye sockets feels like molten lead, a constant reminder of the horror of your new reality.

♡ Yandere! Author pulls out of you with a smirk, watching as his semen leaks from your eye sockets, mixing with the blood and gore of the room.

He grabs your chin, forcing you to look at the carnage around you. "You see this?" he says, gesturing to the mutilated bodies.

"This is what happens when you don't belong to me. This is what happens when you dare to think you can have a story without me."

His grip tightens, his thumb pressing into the raw flesh of your cheek. "But don't worry, I'll always be here to save you. To use you. To make you feel alive." He laughs, the sound echoing through the room, making the hairs on your neck stand on end. "You're going to love the next chapter, my sweet, obedient little bitch."

Your don't give in.

But your silent, weak struggle only serves to fuel the his desire.

♡ Yandere! Author watches your defiance with a mix of amusement and annoyance, his eyes gleaming with the excitement of the challenge. He grabs you by the throat, his grip tightening as he hoists you up, your feet dangling in the air. With a cruel smirk, he slams you down onto the floor, the impact jolting through your broken body.

His eyes flash with a dark excitement at your silent defiance.

He's always loved a challenge, and your refusal to break is just another delicious twist in the story he's crafting. He reaches into his pocket, pulling out a third fountain pen, its nib gleaming in the dim light.

Without a moment's hesitation, he aligns it with your already abused vagina, the cold metal sending a shiver of fear through your body.

"Let's see if I can make you scream," he whispers, his voice a chilling promise of more pain to come.

With a swift, brutal motion, he drives the pen into you, the nib slicing through your flesh with an ease that speaks of his practiced cruelty.

You bite back a scream, but a gasp of agony slips through your teeth.

♡ Yandere! Author laughs, the sound echoing in your skull like a death knell, as he starts to move the pen in and out of you.

As his third pen plunges into you, the sharp nib tears through your tender flesh with a sickening sound that makes your stomach churn. Blood and fluids mingle, creating a macabre painting around his twisted tools of domination.

You feel the metal slide in and out of your violated body, each thrust bringing a fresh wave of agony that crashes over you like a crimson tide. The sensation of being impaled by something so cold and unyielding is almost too much to bear, but the pain is a reminder that you're still alive—still the star of his twisted story.

With a sadistic smirk, ♡ Yandere! Author watches your body convulse around the third pen lodged deep within your cervix.

The agony is palpable, painting your face with the colors of despair as you try to scream through your bruised and bloodied throat.

The warmth of your insides clench around the cold metal, a stark contrast that sends shivers of pleasure down his spine.

He twists the pen slightly, eliciting a guttural sound from you, one that is a mix of pain and unwilling arousal. The gore that surrounds you, the lifeless bodies of the characters he's discarded, only serves to amplify the depravity of his act.

♡ Yandere! Author stands back, his eyes gleaming with a twisted mix of triumph and fascination.

He leaves the pen inside you, allowing the pain to linger, to become a part of you.

You can feel the cold, unyielding metal pressing against your inner walls, a constant reminder of his dominance and the horrors he's inflicted upon you. Your body shakes, a silent scream echoing through the room as the pain turns to a dull throb that you know won't be leaving you anytime soon.

His hands are slick with your blood as he effortlessly picks you up from the floor. You're too weak to fight, your body a mess of pain and violation.

♡ Yandere! Author wraps his strong arm around your neck, his grip tight enough to cut off air, yet not tight enough to end your misery.

You gasp, your eyes watering from the pressure as he drags you across the floor, the coldness of the tiles sending shockwaves through your bruised and abused body.

He reaches up, looping a thick rope around a sturdy beam in the ceiling, and your heart sinks as you realize his next twisted act.

With a sadistic chuckle, he ties the noose around your neck, pulling it tight enough to leave an angry red ring around your throat. He makes sure your wrists, ankles, and everything essential is tied securely to prevent any chances of escape.

♡ Yandere! Author places the chair beneath you, the wood digging into your legs as he lifts you up, your toes barely grazing the floor.

"You're going to hang there," he whispers, his breath hot against your ear, "until I say otherwise. Think about what you've done, my little muse. Think about how you've made me feel."

His grip on you tightens as you hang from the noose, the pain in your neck a constant reminder of his dominance. Your legs kick out, desperately searching for purchase on the floor below, but find none.

The chair wobbles precariously beneath you, the only thing keeping you from the agony of strangulation.

You can feel his hot, heavy breath against your pussy, his chuckles reverberating through his chest and into yours. His free hand snakes down, reaching between your legs to grasp the bloody pen still lodged inside you, twisting it cruelly. You whimper, the sound muffled by the noose, and your body involuntarily tightens around the object, a sickening mix of pain and arousal.

His grin widens as he pulls out a handful of dynamite sticks from his toolbox, each one glinting in the dim light.

♡ Yandere! Author waves them in front of your face, the smell of gunpowder and fear thick in the air. His eyes are alight with sadistic glee as he explains his next twisted plot twist.

“You see, my dear, I’ve been saving these for a very special occasion. And what better way to celebrate our little bond than with a little… fireworks display?” He chuckles darkly, his voice a serrated knife cutting through the silence.

You gasp for air, the noose biting into your neck as he plays with the explosives. His cruel fingers trace over the dynamite, leaving smudges of your blood on their surfaces.

♡ Yandere! Author seems to revel in the horror etched into your features, the way your body convulses and writhes under his touch.

“But don’t worry, my pet,” he coos, his voice a mockery of comfort. “You won’t be alone in your little performance. After all, what’s a show without an audience?” He gestures to the lifeless bodies scattered around the room, their sightless eyes seemingly watching the grisly scene unfold.

His hands are a blur of movement, the dynamites' sticks pressing against your flesh as he ruthlessly inserts each one into your violated body. You whimper and squirm, the pain unbearable, but he only laughs, the sound echoing through the room like a twisted symphony. His eyes are alight with a perverse glee as he watches you suffer.

"You see," he says, his voice a purr of sadistic pleasure, "the story needs a climax. And what better way than a grand explosion?"

He presses the last stick of dynamite into you, pushing it deep until it's nestled alongside the pen that still remains lodged in your cervix. Your body shudders with revulsion, and you feel a warm trickle of blood run down your thighs.

♡ Yandere! Author pulls out a sleek, silver lighter from his pocket, flipping it open with a practiced ease that sends a shiver down your spine.

He holds the flame up to one of the dynamite sticks protruding from your body, watching you with a twisted smile as the flicker of fire dances in his eyes.

The room fills with the acrid scent of burning fuse as ♡ Yandere! Author lights each dynamite stick with a sickening relish, the flames licking up your body, burning against the tender flesh of your inner thighs and the cold steel of the pens and the chair.

You scream in agony as the fire spreads, the heat searing your skin and the explosive pressure threatening to tear you apart from the inside out. Your eyes are already gone, but the pain is so intense it feels like you’re seeing stars, your vision a swirl of fiery red and black.

The pens in your body are forgotten for a moment as the dynamite becomes the center of your world, a twisted phallus of destruction that promises to end your story in a blaze of glorious carnage.

♡ Yandere! Author steps back, admiring his handiwork. "This is your grand finale, my love," he says, his voice thick with perverse pleasure.

"The ultimate climax of your tragic tale. How fitting that it ends with you, my muse, writhing in the throes of a passionate, explosive death." He licks his lips, his gaze raking over your suspended, burning form with a hunger that’s as palpable as the heat from the dynamite.

You’re his masterpiece, and he’s about to watch it burn.

With a wicked chuckle, he steps away from you, slamming the heavy, bolted door shut with a resounding clang that echoes through the room. The sound is like a death knell, cutting off your cries for mercy.

♡ Yandere! Author watches you through the small, reinforced window, his eyes gleaming with sadistic excitement as your body writhes in pain. The dynamite hisses and crackles, the flames licking closer and closer to the explosive core, painting your tortured cries in a symphony of agony.

Your desperate attempts to free yourself are futile.

The ropes are tight, digging into your wrists and ankles, leaving you suspended and helpless. The dynamite sticks burn and hiss, filling the room with the acrid smell of gunpowder and the sickeningly sweet scent of your own burning flesh. You can feel the heat radiating from within, the explosives stretching you to your limits as your body fights against the intrusion.

Each twitch and squirm sends shockwaves of pain through you, the pens in your eye sockets and vagina a constant reminder of his dominance.

Your vision is a haze of red and black, the world around you a swirling maelstrom of agony.

The dynamite reaches its crescendo, the hissing and crackling suddenly giving way to a deafening roar. The explosion rips through the room with the force of a thousand suns, the blast wave tearing into your body as it erupts from within.

The pens that were once lodged in your flesh are now shrapnel, shredding your insides as the explosion rips through your core. Your screams of agony are swallowed by the inferno, your body contorting in a dance of pure, unbridled pain.

The explosion is a symphony of destruction, your body the instrument he plays to compose a macabre masterpiece of carnage. The pens, once cold and lifeless, are now molten metal searing through your flesh, painting the walls and floor with your blood. The blast sends shards of wood and glass flying, piercing your skin and embedding themselves in the bodies of the slain characters that lay around you, turning their silent vigil into a grisly tableau of pain.

♡ Yandere! Author steps into the room, the acrid smoke still lingering from the explosion. His eyes are alight with a manic glee as he looks upon the carnage—your remains a grotesque tapestry of gore and shredded flesh.

He claps his hands together, the sound echoing in the silence, a standing ovation for the horror show you've unwillingly become.

♡ Yandere! Author approaches your ruined form with a twisted smile, his eyes gleaming with sadistic pleasure. "Ah, my dear protagonist," he coos, "such a beautiful spectacle of suffering. But the story isn’t over yet."

He reaches down, his hand disappearing into the mess of your remains, and pulls out the still-glowing pen embedded in your shattered pelvis.

"Look how you've been marked by my narrative," he says, holding it up to inspect the crimson coating. The heat from the explosion has made it hot, almost searing his hand, but he seems unfazed by the pain.

♡ Yandere! Author then picks up your torn heart, bringing it closer to his twisted smile, his teeth sinking into the remains of the flesh, as if it's a ripe apple. He chews slowly, savoring the metallic taste of your blood mingling with the charred meat. "Mmm," he murmurs, his eyes never leaving yours, "still beating. How utterly fascinating."

The room is a macabre tableau of destruction, and he is the artist, standing over your shattered body with a grin that splits his face like a chasm.

♡ Yandere! Author chews thoughtfully, your heart’s rhythmic thumps echoing in his mouth as he speaks around it. "You're still alive," he says, his voice sticky with your blood. "I never said I’d let you die so easily."

His words are a taunt, a promise of more to come, and as much as you want to scream, to rail against the pain and the horror, you can’t. Your vocal cords are gone, torn away by the explosion.

♡ Yandere! Author laughs, the sound echoing in the blood-soaked room.

He drops your heart into the palm of his hand, watching it pulse weakly as he speaks. "You see, my dear, death is for those who dare to bore me. And as much as I'd love to end this little… narrative, you're not quite ready to leave the stage."

He strokes the heart with his thumb, a twisted affection in his eyes. "Not until I've had my fill of your suffering."

♡ Previous Part. He’s the hero in his own story… and you’re his latest toy.

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❤︎ Fang Dokja's Books.

♡ Book 1. A Heart Devoured (AHD): A Dark Yandere Anthology ♡ Book 2. Forbidden Fruits (FF): Intimate Obsessions, Unhinged Desires. ♡ Book 3. World Ablaze (WA) : For You, I'd Burn the World. ♡ Book 4 [you are here]. Whispers in the Dark (WITD): Subtle Devotion, Lingering Shadows. ♡ Book 5. Ink & Insight (I&I): From Dead Dove to Daydreams. ♡ Library MASTERPOST 1. The Librarian’s Ledger: A Map to The Library of Forbidden Texts.

♡ Disclaimer. Not all stories are included in the masterpost due to Tumblr’s link limitations. However, most long-form stories can be found here. If you're searching for a specific yandere or theme, this guide will help you navigate The Library of Forbidden Texts. Proceed with caution—these tales explore obsession, madness, and devotion in their rawest forms.

[shoopsthereitis]

jegulus + 46 <3

46. "go back to sleep" for this ask game

Regulus is pulled from sleep by two things: a soft, steady humming and the rhythmic clicking of a Rubik's Cube. His eyes flutter open, and he shifts to find James sitting up in bed, a small reading light clipped to the headboard casting a warm glow. James is focused, brow furrowed as he twists the cube, lost in his thoughts.

"James, it’s—" Regulus squints at the clock, "3:15 in the morning."

James looks up, a sheepish expression crossing his face. "Sorry, did I wake you?"

Regulus isn’t surprised. He knows how James gets. The late hours always bring a restless mind, his anxiety at its worst when there’s nothing to occupy him. The Rubik’s Cube was Regulus' solution, something to distract him when sleep just won’t come.

"It’s fine." Regulus sits up, reaching for the bedside lamp and flicking it on. A soft glow fills the room, casting shadows on the walls.

"You still haven’t solved it?" Regulus teases. "You know you could just look up a cheat code, or I could—"

"No," James interrupts, his voice firm but playful, eyes flashing with determination. "I told you, I want to figure it out myself."

Regulus smirks, leaning back against the pillows. "Alright, alright. How long have you been awake?"

"Maybe an hour," James admits, shrugging slightly.

Regulus tilts his head, studying him. "Anything I can do to help?"

James shakes his head, pressing a gentle kiss into Regulus' curls. "Nah, I’ll get tired eventually. Go back to sleep."

Regulus pauses, considering. "Are you sure? I don’t mind staying up with you. We can talk, if you want."

James looks down at him, his smile softening as he leans in to kiss Regulus properly, lips warm and lingering. "I’m sure," he murmurs. "Now turn off the light. You need your beauty sleep."

With a final kiss to James’ shoulder, Regulus turns off the lamp and settles back into bed, drifting off to the familiar sound of the Rubik's cube.

[w2soneshots]

Valentine -W2S

words: 1.0k+

warnings: none, just fluff!

summary: you and Harry spend a wholesome valentines day together.

notes: hello my loves! I’m single af so here’s a cute little fic I wrote with my fav British boy to make me feel better😌🫶🏼. Enjoy!!✨

Liked by wroetoshaw, taliamar and others

y/username: happy Valentine's Day💌

-comments-

wroetoshaw: sneaky

-> y/username: took my chance while you were distracted by the sweets🤗

faithloisak: gorgeous as always

-> y/username: I 💗 U

y/nfanpage21: balloons AND flowers! my girls living the dream🥹🤍

user: ugh, they're disgustingly cute

I opened my eyes and the first thing I saw was red heart shaped balloons. I looked around for Harry but he was nowhere to be found. I was extremely confused for a second before I remembered that it was valentine's day.

Just a few minutes later Harry walked into our bedroom holding a tray. "Good morning love," he greeted with a bright smile before placing it in my lap. The tray had pancakes covered in fresh fruit, a coffee and a card tucked into the side.

I looked up at him. "Thank you. Happy valentines day baby." Harry smiled then leaned down and we shared a quick kiss.

After eating the food, which was delicious, I opened the card. On the front it read, "you're a bit of a twat, but you're my twat." with read hearts surrounding the letters. "Very funny," I mumbled through laughter.

Inside the card was a different story. He wrote, "to y/n. I love you so much I don't think I could live without you (so you better not leave me!)," I giggled as he sat patiently waiting for me to read. I continued, "we have a special dinner at 7 so be ready to get your hands dirty. Love Harry."

"That was so sweet." I set the card on my nightstand and moved over to hug him. "Okay, wait there. Lemme go get your card from me!" I called as I cheerfully made my way into our wardrobe where I'd hidden everything.

I returned just a minute later with a gift bag. "Ooo, what's this...?" Harry inquired as I plonked myself down next to him and passed him the bag. "Open it and see!"

Harry was quick to fling the tissue paper across the room and look inside. "Ah! This is sick!" He looked at me with the cutest and brightest smile. He pulled out the special addition supreme jumper that he's had his eye on.

It wasn't super cute or wholesome like most valentines gifts but he's impossible to buy for so I didn't have many options.

"How the fuck did you manage to get this?" He asked, "it's been sold out everywhere!" I chuckled as he admired it. "I have my ways..."

A few hours later we decided it'd be fun to go and see the movie we've been wanting to watch in the cinema. We both got dressed into some comfy clothes and headed out.

On our way we stopped off at a shop to get some snacks since they're always extremely overpriced in the cinema and Harry loves a bargain. "Which one do you want? Actually... I'll just get all of 'em," he said as he looked at the selection of sweets. I giggled when he stood up with an excessive amount of them in the basket.

After watching the movie we stopped off for some lunch and then spontaneously decided to go bowling since we walked past the place on our way home.

wroetoshaw posted a new story!

"Beat ya!" I smiled when the final scores registered on the board. "By like... two points," Harry huffed. "Don't be a sore loser baby," I teased with a smirk then leaned into him to press a kiss to his lips. "Alright alright," he chuckled, "let's go home."

We walked back to our apartment building, hand in hand. The sun was setting and the air was surprisingly warm for February, in London. I breathed out a content sigh and leaned my head on his shoulder when we finally got into the lift.

"Hungry?" Harry asked me a little while later, while we sat on our couch with a random show playing on the tv, that we definitely weren't paying attention to.

"Mhm," I hummed. He jumped up. "Well, we're makin' pizza!" he said excitedly, "you coming petal?" I cocked my head to the side in surprise. "Oh, Haz. How romantic," I replied with a smile and followed him into the kitchen.

He took his time making the dough while I prepared the sauce and grated the cheese. Just as I was pouring the sauce into a pot I felt a puff of flour cover my shirt.

"Ah! Absolutely not!" I giggled before quickly gathering some in the palm of my hand and blowing it straight into his face. He coughed out a laugh. "Jesus Christ woman!"

He rolled out his pizza into a misshapen circle while I made mine into a cute little heart. We then covered it in tomato sauce, sprinkled on the cheese and added any last toppings.

y/username posted a new story!

After popping our masterpieces into the oven we sat back on the sofa with our drinks of choice and waited patiently for them to finish cooking.

"Mmm... this was one of the best ideas you've ever had," I murmured happily with a mouth full of pizza. "I know. I'm a genius, what can I say." I shook my head as I giggled at his sarcastic cockiness.

"You ready for bed love?" He asked as I yawned. I nodded slowly. I closed my eyes for just a second and before I could even process what was happening I was being lifted into the air, fireman style.

I leaned into my boyfriend's chest and exhaled deeply. He set me down on our bed gently. "I'm just gonna go take a shower. I'll be back in a minute to get into bed with you. Good night, I love you and happy Valentine's Day," he whispered with a kiss to my forehead before I drifted off with a soft smile on my lips.

[cinnamontoastcrunch-15]

Hi so I'm obsessed with this idea

Here's what my brain did with it :)

"I don't know how much longer I can do this," Sirius groans, dropping his head into his hands. He doesn't miss James covering his chuckle with a cough but, in all honesty, he's more than a little distracted right now. "I mean, I'm practically throwing myself at him!"

"Yeah, you really are."

"Everyone can tell, right?"

"...no?"

Sirius pulls his head out of his hands and shoots James a glare. Lying isn't helping him figure out what the fuck he can do about everything.

It's been two months since Sirius had decided to start being brazen with Remus. He had been dropping the odd subtle sign for a while before; reading Remus' favourite books to watch the smile on his face, bringing back chocolate from Hogsmeade when the full moon is creeping closer, even asking him to explain DADA topics in spite of the fact that he's top of the class, just to see the way his eyes light up when he's teaching.

Suffice to say, those got him absolutely nowhere.

His solution? Up his game.

For the past two months, he's done nothing but flirt with Remus. He has brushed Remus' curls from his face more times than he can count, revelling in the way Remus' entire face seems to uncontrollably turn bright red. The two of them have sat together on the astronomy tower for hours on end to talk, and Sirius can't even remember half of the flirty remarks he's made in that time. Once he placed his hand on the small of Remus' back and heard the yelp he tried to muffle, watched him become a stammering mess in a matter of seconds. He called him hot in the middle of the Great Hall, before promptly brushing his thumb over Remus' lower lip to 'get rid of the jam.' What did he get from that? Remus mumbled something unintelligible about jam, and Sirius still didn't get anywhere.

He's not sure he can take any more of this. Everybody knows what he's trying to do. Professor McGonnagal doesn't even tell him off during class when he spends all of his time talking to Remus, doodling across Remus' arm, or even when he started tracing his fingers across the palm of Remus' hand!

Somehow, in spite of the fact that they're the talk of the school, Remus has no bloody clue. He'd thought that maybe, just maybe, he wouldn't have to spell it all out for Remus. That several dates would give Remus some kind of revelation. For some reason, every time Sirius sincerely calls their Hogsmeade outings a date, Remus just laughs it off. Every single quip Sirius has made has been considered a strangely timed joke, even though he turns bright red and forgets how to pull a sentence together every time. Honestly, Sirius wants to shake him, to tell him that no, it's not a joke. He needs Remus to know that he's head over heels for him. He's actually a little convinced that he'll spontaneously combust if Remus doesn't figure out that every single thing he does makes Sirius' heart melt.

"Sirius, you need to kick it up a notch!" James says.

Sirius chuckles before he can stop himself, scrubbing a hand over his face.

"I don't think there's another notch, Prongs!"

"There definitely is." Sirius arches an eyebrow, and James leans a little closer. "Snog him senseless."

"Are you sure?"

"I don't know how many more dates you can go on without kissing him, Padfoot."

"Knowing my luck, he'll think I'm just being... a really intense friend."

"If he does," James starts, leaning back with a shrug, "then you can be really intense friends. You can shag in a friendly way, have a beautiful friend ceremony, and co-parent your children as best friends forever!" Sirius shoves James' arm, and James raises his arms in surrender. "I'm just saying you need to spell it out for him! I think you're overestimating his sense of self worth."

"...sorry?"

James looks at him like he's just started speaking another language.

"Sirius, come on." At Sirius' confusion, he starts considering his words very carefully. "You're Sirius Black! Quidditch team, most eligible bachelor, half the school loves you, half the school wants to be you?"

"Right...?"

"Merlin's sake, you're idiots. Both of you. Just snog him? Please? You'll be doing all of us a bloody favour." James groans, looking a little like he wants to lock Sirius in a room with Remus until it's all sorted.

"Fine."

"Wait, really?"

"Yeah," Sirius says with a shrug. "I'm clearly not getting anywhere right now, am I? What have I got to lose?"

"Thank fuck," James exhales, letting out a relieved laugh.

Thankfully, it's much easier to find the opportunity than he thought. He's spent an embarrassing amount of time doting on him recently, so he just looks for a time where he would usually find some pet name to call him and watch him blush.

James has promised to steer clear of the dorm, dragging Peter with him and letting Sirius capitalise on the chance to be around Remus without every other student in the school watching them. The moment they're alone, Sirius hazards a glance at him. He's wrapped up in his book, curled up on his bed and looking so invested in it that Sirius almost feels like it's a crime to disturb him.

Still, he has a feeling that this'll be a welcome interruption.

"Moons?" Remus glances up. "What're you reading?"

"Oh, er..." He smiles a little sheepishly. "I'm trying to get through all of Austen's books." He holds up the cover. Emma.

"What's it about?" Sirius asks, taking a chance at moving over and settling opposite Remus on his bed.

"It's my favourite so far. It's about a girl who decides that she's meant to be a matchmaker." As Remus starts to speak, Sirius watches his eyes light up, an affectionate smile creeping further onto his face by the second as Remus goes into great detail about this book. It's Remus at his happiest, and Sirius would do anything to see him like this all the time.

He had every intention of kissing him halfway through the explanation, just to see if Remus liked him enough that he wouldn't care. Instead, he lets Remus finish explaining, caught up in the joy in his eyes. In fact, he forgets to speak at all when Remus is done, earning him a confused look.

"Sirius?" Remus waves a hand in front of his face. "Padfoot, are you-"

Fuck it.

He leans in and connects their lips before he has a chance to reconsider.

He practically hears Remus' brain short circuit. When Sirius pulls away, wanting to give Remus' brain a chance to play catch up, he watches the shock flit across his face, quickly joined by confusion as his face starts to flush.

What a magnificent fucking sight.

"What was...?" Remus trails off. Sirius has seen him forget how to speak before, but never has he managed to leave Remus at a loss for words entirely.

"Er... it was a kiss?" Sirius answers lightly.

"No, I-" Remus blinks harshly, regaining some semblance of control over his voice. "Why did... why?"

"Because I wanted to kiss you," Sirius says gently. "I've wanted to kiss you for a long time."

"Me?"

"I really like you, Rem."

"Oh. Oh, my..." His eyes scan across Sirius' face, like he's waiting for Sirius to turn around and say that he's kidding. He seems to find the sincerity he was looking for, as he blurts out, "thank you."

Thank you?

Sirius would laugh if it weren't the most genuinely dumbfounded response he could have been given. Remus' eyes immediately widen as he realises what he's said, a frustrated groan escaping him as he draws his knees to his chest and drops his head onto them.

"Sorry, that's- that's not- well, it is, but I didn't... shit." He looks as though he wants to turn into a hermit crab and hide from Sirius.

"You're welcome...?" Sirius tries softly. "Remus? Remus, you can look at me." He watches Remus shake his head. Okay, he's going to need to work for this. "Rem, there's literally nothing you could do that would change how I feel. It's been a hell of a long time now, my feelings aren't going anywhere. You're absolutely bloody brilliant." Remus lifts his head to shoot Sirius a disbelieving look. He can't quite disguise the hope in his eyes, though, and his face is a perfect shade of red now. Sirius just meets his eye, daring him to disagree. "You might not be able to see what I see, what James and Pete see, but you are. You're kind, you're clever, you're beautiful-"

Remus interjects with a laugh.

"Hey, you've never actually seen your own face, have you?"

"I have-"

"You can't actually look at yourself, though. It's not possible. You're just going to have to take my word for it. You're absolutely fucking gorgeous."

"Aren't you biased, though?"

"Why, because I fancy you?" Remus nods, words leaving him again. "I don't think so. Why should it matter, though? I really bloody like you, Remus. I've been trying to make you see it for ages."

"...I thought you were joking," Remus supplies. "I don't get you, Sirius."

"I don't get you, but I still like you," Sirius answers with a shrug.

For a second, they just look at each other.

"Do you?" He asks eventually.

"Do I what?"

"D'you like me? I mean, I can take a pretty educated guess, but..." Remus shoves Sirius lightly, losing his fight against the smile creeping onto his face.

"Yeah."

"Yeah?" Remus nods, finally settling a little. "Can I kiss you again?" Remus' eyes widen, and any hope of the blush leaving his face goes. It returns in full force, and he doesn't manage to answer Sirius. His mouth opens and closes, before he opts for nodding once.

Thankfully, he seems a little more prepared this time. When Sirius connects their lips, Remus seems to react on impulse. He kisses Sirius back in earnest, and it's...

Fuck, it's everything Sirius could have imagined and more.

Remus' hand slides into his hair, and Sirius feels like all of his nerve endings are on fire. His lips are soft against Sirius', all safety and warmth and Merlin Sirius could do this forever.

Yeah, it took Remus a while to catch on, but what does it matter?

They got there in the end.

I need more loser remus. I need remus who has no idea how to flirt. who didn't know to react the first time the hottest guy in school kissed him so all he said was thankyou. remus who didn't realize he was dating sirius at first because why on earth would sirius want HIM. I need remus who spends all his time studying and reading. remus whos bad at interacting with literally everyone except the marauders. (who he was very awkward with at first)

i NEED that man pathetic

[garez19]

unsent

yandere streamer x loser reader: [part i]

notes: female reader, not proofread, english is not my first language. have a very lovely day everyone!!! wc: 1.6k

alden, he called himself. he didn’t have lots of viewers, though you remembered some of his clips going viral once or twice. he still seemed content with his lack of fame though, and you could guess he wasn’t expecting to be popular anyways as the games he played were very niche, and did go unnoticed by the mainstream. you, however, liked exploring the pits of the internet, finding weird websites and lurking abandoned forums everyday. being an unemployed loser let you know all about the media. and for some odd reason, your favorite part about this addiction was when you got a notification from his channel. “denonthebeat IS LIVE NOW!” how you liked clicking on it in a heartbeat. how you liked listening to him ramble about his not-so-funny life stories. you couldn’t help but think how similar you two were most of the time—considering your almost identical music taste and the way you laughed at the same things, how his audience kept calling him a socially inept loser that needed a life.

he was the man in your dreams, and it was a tragedy he didn’t know your existence. hell, he probably didn’t even know your nickname, let alone the adoration you had for him. but, there was nothing you could do except being a ghost and watching him interact with a bunch of people who seem to like consuming the sort of content. because deep down, you know him acknowledging you wasn’t going to change much except that he would be familiar with your nickname maybe.

but the point was, your obsession over him wasn’t decreasing. you didn’t seem to grow away from him. and that was the one and only problem as for now —except getting a job and moving out, of course— and there was nothing to do about it. you couldn’t go and tell him you liked his content, or that you would like to get to know him on a deeper level. you were close friends in your world, maybe even closer than close friends. in reality, he was just another loser with a questionable digital footprint.

and when he answered one of the questions on live, your whole world turned into a dystopia, an unfamiliar bitter taste left in your tongue. you were making it too big of a deal, you knew it, yet, this screen was all you had—-a small utopia you have created. it’s full of suffering, but you’ve always considered yourself a girl full of hope. this world, the screen, was too small for you to explore, but he made it seem bigger, full of colors. so when he answered, you didn’t know what to do.

“oh, well, love is confusing, you see.” he shrugged. “there is this girl I’ve had the biggest crush on, and I can say that adoring someone often leaves you confused. but it makes you more ecstatic.” he said. there was a different kind of light in his eyes, or so you assumed. “so ecstatic that you get the urge to create. like, when you cannot get your feelings reciprocated, you just, well, you just go and create something out of that love.” he added. a heavy ache on your chest, the urge to vomit. the urge to tell him to fuck off and report his account for bullying. as if. as if he knew you. as if.

“anyway. if you feel like they show some signs, I’d say go for it. my situation is rather different though.” he smiled. he seemed hurt though, that much was recognizable, even through the screen. “or create something, if it feels too heavy to carry. I mean, I solely make content because of her— since I can’t seem to distract myself from being a sappy loser.” he laughed. hell, this was your favorite part of him, the way he wore his heart on his sleeve often made you admire him. this was what you hate him about the most, he wore his heart on his sleeve.

the comments calling him a loser and making fun of didn’t seem to affect him, as he was reading some of them and sneering.

“what is she like? oh… well, I don’t want you to clip this and upload it on youtube calling me a loverboy, pass.” he said. this could’ve been a fun topic if you weren’t oh-so-fucking in “love” with him. others were having fun though, as they kept spamming questions about it. “why the fuck is everyone so nosy with it?” he laughed. and you agreed. why can’t he just shut up about it and play your favorite game? or watch stupid videos and react to them? this was the first ever time you contemplated leaving the stream. the first ever time you didn’t have fun. “where did I meet her? take a fucking guess pal. over the internet, of course.” he, once again, answered another question. fucking loser, you mumbled, as if your situation was any different. as if you didn’t live on the internet. “we live in the same city though, she’s just too much of a loser to go out,” he added. you frowned. you weren’t going to listen to him ramble about this person any more, so you just closed the tab. you had better things to do anyways, like replaying your favorite game. the one he also seemed to like a lot.

“what the hell?” he cussed out, seeming puzzled. “she fucking left.” he kept clicking on random buttons as the chat went crazy over the whole situation. “dumbass.” he said, clearly annoyed. questions from the followers didn’t seem to stop. “oh my god, of course it’s not her,” he answered the allegations, “I was talking about my sister who was supposed to be a moderator.” he lied quickly. he didn’t even have a sibling to begin with, but he didn’t want you to have any suspicions as he had a very little follower list. “well, that’s all for today anyway,” he got ready to end the stream.

“have a good day, everybody.” click.

is she not having fun anymore? he assumed, his mind running miles. he had planned his schedule very carefully, and he couldn’t watch it go to ruins. not when he calculated every single interaction he could have had with you.

and well, it was true that you “met” on the internet. but that wasn’t the only time you did, nor was it the first time.

he was running out of time, he believed. when the teacher was asking dumb questions to how to get to know someone and pairing students up. “ask your partner how you break the ice.” she said, putting you two up. it wasn’t the way to strike up a conversation, that was for sure, and in an ideal world he wouldn’t have to do that anyway, since these people kept blabbering about their hobbies and stuff he couldn’t care less about. so when he turned his seat so he could talk to you, he wasn’t expecting anything. 5 minutes left.

“well, in my o—“ he was interrupted when you stood up. he looked up at you as you asked for permission to go to the bathroom. 4 minutes left. at least you were also on his side in this battle. well, socially awkward kids were everywhere, no? he knew you weren’t going to come back, realizing you’d been looking at the clock and contemplating leaving. you had squinted your eyes, hand on your chin— you decided to leave.

3 minutes left. he took a peek at his classmates, their awkward glances darting towards each other. the other pair next to him was doing fine. the girl –though she looked wimpy at first– was holding her own, keeping the conversation going and checking in with her partner’s opinion. 2 minutes left.

right then, you came back to the class. ready to pick up your bag and get out of here. you sat down, collecting your stuff. and although you two were on the same side, he still wanted an answer. he was not having fun here, and might as well make it everyone’s –everyone he had to interact with, to be precise– problem.

“what do you do to break the ice?” he asked.

you can’t escape from your fate, you thought to yourself.

“well, try to find hobbies you both share, ask them questions, stuff like that,” you answered, not hesitating to give the most cliché answer. “how about you?” you asked, repeating the question. 1 minute left. “you wanna go grab a coffee?” he offered.

“valid answer.” you replied, thinking it was just another example. you were ready to leave the class, and he couldn’t help but give a quiet chuckle. you weren’t sure what to make of it. “yeah, yours wasn’t exactly ‘valid’ though,” he snickered.

“why not?”

the second he opened his mouth to answer, the bell rang. you didn’t even wait for an answer, and there was an unbreakable ice there, or maybe unmeltable in a sense. but, either way, he was having fun. maybe he was really wasting time in this class, in this school, but maybe, he could make it at least somewhat enjoyable. the following days were as dull since you had been absent for the week. the next week, when the class was finally familiar with each other, you attended the lesson. socially awkward kids everywhere, yet he wasn’t sure if you were shiesty or just didn’t care about the situation. you still didn’t put any effort, that was the only recognizable thing about you. and you didn’t appreciate it when he tried to help you out here and there. you gave out a fake smile, thank you, you muttered, and go on with your simple life.

you reminded him of himself, the only difference being you didn’t try to make fun of socially awkward kids. and you weren’t as curious about him as he was about you. your goddamn phone and that one notebook you kept scribbling in made it hard for him to reach out.

good thing he had lots of time to waste.

[socgf]

you really got me - chapter 2

dallas winston x curtis!oc

wc: 2074

warnings: allusion to ed

when the pots clanging in the kitchen startle me awake and i peer my eyes open, the spot on the bed next to me empty but with the cologne still lingering, i know i don’t have much time before darry starts yellin’ from the staircase for me to get my butt downstairs for breakfast. i reach over to my nightstand, my fingers reaching for a marlboro red and my pink lighter. it’s not a habit i’m too proud of. despite everyone around me, even pony, smoking like a chimney, it’s different with me for some reason. not something that i should be getting into. but when i walk around smelling like cigarettes, i can blame it on dally rather than my recent affinity for dulling my appetite, if that’s one thing he’s good for.

sitting down at my desk, i run my brush through my hair and tie it back neatly with a bow, before dusting my face with some powder and blush. soda always tells me we got our mom’s eyes, all big and doe-like. i like to think they’re my best feature, and that if i make them pop, i’ll distract from the rest of my face, covered with red spots, though my layer of powder tends to do a decent job. i don’t like looking at myself in the mirror for long enough that i find something else i need to fix, so i snap my compact shut.

“yeah, ‘m coming, dar,” i mutter softly, cutting off his knocks.

soda and pony are already digging into their sunny side up eggs and bacon when i take my seat at the table.

“late night?” soda gleams, mouth half full. he knows better than anyone that when darry has to drag me out of bed, it’s because dally kept me up all night talking. or whatever it is we do, as far as he’s concerned.

“yeah, yeah, now be quiet.” i grumble, but with no malice in my tone.

darry sits down last, giving me a slight once over like he’s suspecting something, but he doesn’t know what. “eat your bacon, rosie posie.” he nudges his fork towards my plate.

“hell, i’ll eat it if you don’t want it.” pony responds earnestly, and i hand it over to his plate, darry huffing slightly but leaving it at that. i smack pony’s head lightheartedly.

“rosie, you gonna happen to be home for dinner? i need a little help around the house.” darry asks casually.

“ah, shit. i can’t, dar. marcy’s put me on the night shift tonight.”

that wasn’t entirely a lie. i was working late at the diner. well, later, as in until seven instead of five. after which, dally was supposed to pick me up and take me to some party at buck’s, on account of me ‘stickin’ my fuckin’ nose in a book all the time lately’. but i could leave that part out.

soda smirks at me slightly from his plate. it’s the same party he’ll be taking sandy to, and he’s keeping his mouth shut so i don’t get a lecture on how the only thing at buck’s to get into is trouble.

a flicker of guilt runs through me at darry’s understanding nod, but i remind myself then that i’m almost eighteen and doing far less than even what ponyboy gets up to on the weekends. besides, with the way dally hovers over me like a damn guard dog when i’m out with him, i’m sure i’ll make it home in one piece.

-

i lift my head at the doorbell jingling and watch dally saunter over to the counter, leaning over ever so slightly with a simple, “hey, doll.”

“what are you doing here?” i laugh softly, my eyes darting around the diner to make sure my manager isn’t watching. “i told you to come get me at seven. you know, when i’m done working.”

“got hungry.” he says plainly, stealing a fry from someone’s half-finished plate on the edge of the counter.

i scrunch my nose, focusing my attention back to wiping off the appliances until they’re perfectly shiny. “well, the kitchen just closed. i couldn’t serve you even if i wanted to.” 

he groans and blows the paper wrapper of a loose straw at my head. “useless.” he scoffs.

i swat the paper away and refocus my attention onto the group of guys in madras loitering around the high chairs in front of me. in my uniform, especially this one with the poofy skirt cut a bit too high for comfort, i’m neither a greaser nor a soc. and i know big tippers when i see them, so i turn away from dally like he’s some creep who won’t get off my back, and put on my most charming smile.

“just a moment, y’all, i’ll be right there.” i don’t know why they tend to like that stupid southern twang so much, but the tall one in the middle gleams in response. 

i don’t miss how dally stiffens up and clenches his jaw at the voices to his left. and if i know what’s good for me, i act as if i don’t know the hood at the counter.

-

“you about ready to go yet?” he drawls, eyes lazily flickering over my uniform. “interesting choice.”

“ha, ha. i brought a change.” i mutter. “wait here a minute. and don’t cause a scene, please.. marcy’s around the corner.” i grab a small backpack from behind the counter.

he can’t resist an eye roll and a hushed marcy can suck my dick for all i care, which i ignore as i head to the employee bathroom. at least he’s not trying to steal from the kitchen this time.

the little black dress is rolled up neatly as i take it out. i had stolen it from mom’s closet a while back, not that she would mind now, i guess. no matter how many times dally or the gang dragged me to buck’s, i never felt i had quite the right outfit for the occasion, but maybe that was just my stubborn refusal to wear jeans and a leather jacket. i liked this dress, though, it was the most daring piece of clothing i owned. i zip it up neatly - mom occasionally let herself indulge in a mail-order piece - smoothing it out in the slightly cracked sink mirror. it’s kind of mod, short and sleeveless with a boat neck, and i feel a little like pattie boyd. i keep my black mary-janes on from work and tousle my hair a bit.

dally’s waiting in buck’s t-bird when i walk out of the diner with my uniform stuffed into my backpack, waving a cheeky goodbye to janie as she finishes mopping up. the sun has already set and the wind is freezing my legs, so i rush into the passenger seat.

“oh my, my. who you all dolled up for, huh?” dally eyes my dress appreciatively, flicking my hair.

“i wasn’t sure what to wear. why, do i look silly?” my face suddenly feels hot.

“we’re going to buck’s and you look like a proper soc, honey. it’s cute.” he’s almost chuckling to himself, but the words have just a bit of bite to them.

as he starts up the car i turn my gaze away from him, playing with the hem of my dress while he tunes the radio to some rolling stones song. he’s tapping his fingers on the wheel like he always does as he speeds down back streets.

the smell of cheap beer and cigarette smoke and the red fluorescent lighting always hits you right in the face as soon as you walk in, if some chuck berry song blasting wasn’t enough. i wouldn’t say it’s my scene in the typical sense, but i feel real cool and rebellious when buck waves me and dally in with a short “you’re good”.

buck is the kind of man i can never seem to figure out. i’ve been up in dally’s room or down in the kitchen enough times for him to give me a nod of acknowledgement when i’m at the door, but i can’t say i’m not still scared of him or what business he gets into in the corners of his parties. i smile politely and dally pushes me inside, with a hand brushing against the small of my back.

“aren’t those the guys in shepard’s outfit?” i mutter softly to him, meeting the gaze of a guy i recognize serving along with tim on the weekends. i didn’t know where tim and dally stood right now after their recent brawl, but i never really know anyway.

dally follows my gaze before giving me a little tap on my lower back. “don’t worry ‘bout that.” he doesn’t elaborate, but i believe him.

“c’mon.” he walks ahead of me carving out a path towards the bar. buck’s back behind the counter now, and he rolls his eyes at dally’s saunter.

“grab me a budweiser, would ya?” dally meets eyes with buck. i can tell when he’s putting on an act, bossing buck around like he isn’t permanently indebted to him for his spot upstairs. but buck seems to understand, even if wordlessly.

“and for the dame… vodka cranberry, ain’t that right?” he gives me that shit-eating grin, but his tone is softer this time.

“my answer never changes, dal. and uh, thanks, buck.” now that i think of it, my wallet isn’t even on me, not that dally would ever let me pay for a drink. though it’s less him being a gentleman and more the fact that he owes me a hell of a lot more in bail.

“she wants no more than a splash of cranberry, old man. don’t cheap out on her.” his eyes don’t leave my glass behind the counter, and i would protest his crassness if he wasn’t spot on.

“hey, you trying to get my baby sister drunk?” i hear that playful tone to my right, and dally and i both meet eyes with soda, who’s got sandy leaning against his arm.

“yeah, baby sister by about five minutes.” i smile wryly.

soda goes in for a real bro hug with dally, ever the affectionate one, before reaching over the counter and ruffling my hair. i’ve always liked sandy with soda. i never see him smile that hard when he’s not with her. he’s real sweet on her in a way i don’t think i ever imagine experiencing.

“hey sandy. i love your dress.” i lean over to her while dally and soda are lost in conversation.

she’s got a pastel yellow shift dress on with a headband in her hair, and she looks completely out of place, but she’s beautiful and radiant as always.

“oh, you’re a doll. i love yours too. i haven’t seen you in so long, rosie!”

“it’s just one of my old ones. and i know. school has been so busy...” i groan lightheartedly, before mentally slapping myself in the face for bringing up that subject with her. i knew how she felt about soda dropping out this year.

“no worries. hey, maybe we can hang out the four of us, go on a double date or somethin’.”

“oh, we’re not-” i tense up ever so slightly, and she gets the picture.

“ah shit, my mistake. well, listen, i’ll come by the diner, alright?” and she brushes it off effortlessly, while i will my face to stop flushing.

before dally beckons me away with him, gripping onto his beer, soda stops me with a gentle hand.

“ain’t that mom’s dress, posie?” his tone is cautious but never unkind, and i falter for a moment.

“...i know. i’ll put it right back.”

he pats me on the back affectionately, and pauses in thought. “i swear you really look just like her sometimes.” he mutters. “be careful, yeah? and let me know if you need a ride home.”

soda has a way of saying the most heart wrenching things so casually, like he doesn’t even think twice about their significance. but i don’t have time to think too hard about it. “don’t worry, sodapop. i’ll let you know. have fun.” i keep my tone cheerful, and he gives me a wink before wrapping his arm around sandy again.

a.n.

i am so self conscious about my writing but i wanted to post to get this out of my drafts :) update coming tmrw ACTUALLY

taglist:

@mrsdillonx @hailpacino @magefelixir @jujuheartz13 @coastershells @r0seb100d

as always comment if u wanna be tagged!

[mysteryshoptls]

R Azul Ashengrotto - PE Uniform Vignette

"What do you want?"

[Sports Field]

Azul: I can fly… I can fly…!

Vargas: Ashengrotto… Are you really serious about practicing flight magic!?

Azul: Of course, professor! Have I ever done any less than my best in all my classes?

Vargas: All you're doing is clutching your broom between your legs and jumping. You have my gorgeous flying skills to base yours off of, why are you still struggling!?

Azul: I am doing image training of taking off. Please do not bother… Ack!

Azul: I lost my concentration, so the broom ran from me… Come back here! Please don't drift so high!

Vargas: Oh, boy… You're in your second year, and this is all you can do!? Take a look at Viper!

Vargas: He may not be as skilled as I am, but his flight skills are well cultivated. How are you both sophomores!?

Jamil: Ah, no… This is all thanks to your superb teaching, Vargas-sensei.

Azul: Should an instructor truly be comparing the abilities of two students? Isn't that rather insensitive?

Vargas: Hey, no talking back, now! I won't have any time to be checking any of the other students if I have to keep this up with you.

Vargas: Viper, take care of Ashengrotto for me!

Jamil: …Huh? Me!?

Vargas: You are the best flier in this class. I'm counting on you!

Jamil: Wait, coach, I… And there he goes. Ugh, he's too much.

Azul: Indeed. What an irresponsible instructor.

Jamil: Isn't that just because you can't do what he asks?

Jamil: You struggle a lot when it comes to flight magic, Azul. It's completely different from when you're in the classroom.

Azul: It has only been a little over a year since I've come to walk on land, you know.

Azul: I feel like I should be praised just for being able to walk, and yet they're asking me to fly, as well? …Seriously, this is asking for too much.

Jamil: You can threaten all you want, but when you're hanging upside down from your broom like that, it's not intimidating at all.

Azul: Well, that is only because the broom won't listen to a word I say.

Jamil: Guess I should start teaching from the basics, then. I'll give you a tip. First, lay the broom on the ground…

Azul: No, thank you.

Jamil: Huh?

Azul: There is no way you're going to teach me a trick to flying for nothing. There is no such thing as a free ride.

Azul: What do you want?

Jamil: I mean, I'm not doing this out of the goodness of my heart, I was told to by the coach…

Azul: So, there's nothing you want in return? There's no way I can believe such a concocted story.

Azul: I have no wish to be in your debt because of something like this. It would be problematic if you were to attempt to extract a hefty price for this afterwards!

Jamil: Listen… I get where you're coming from, but can you really afford to act like this?

Jamil: You're a Housewarden, and yet you can't even fly in a straight line… Even Kalim can do this much.

Azul: I know that! I am trying to focus, please stop distracting me.

Vargas: Ashengrotto, Viper. Have you come to appreciate my beautiful flight techniques yet?

Azul: I am doing my best.

Jamil: Nothing has changed yet, Coach.

Vargas: If Ashengrotto can't fly 50 meters in a straight line by today, both of you will be staying after class.

Jamil: Why me, too!?

Vargas: You both have a responsibility to see it done!

Jamil: This is ridiculous… I have plans after… Wait, Coach!

Jamil: …Tch.

Azul: Poor thing. You have my pity.

Jamil: This is all because you won't listen to my advice at all. It's a waste of time just uselessly trying to jump up like that.

Azul: I'm not jumping for no reason, I'll have you know. I am doing so to visualize achieving my goal.

Jamil: So, is it working? Then hurry, and…

Azul: If I continue at this place, I should be capable of floating by tomorrow morning!

Jamil: Tomorrow morning!? And all that, just to float!? No way I can wait for that long.

Jamil: Even someone like Kalim was able to fly by sincerely listening to my advice. Stop making me repeat myself!

Azul: How persistent. I told you I have no need of your assistance.

Jamil: Fine. I want a study guide for the upcoming test. I want it, I reeeeeeeally need it.

Jamil: So please, let me teach you the tricks to flying. That should be a fair give-and-take, right?

Azul: …I understand. If you insist, then it's a deal!

Jamil: Seriously… You really don't want to be in debt to anyone, do you?

Requested by @pianostarinwonderland.

[palmtreepalmtree]

In stupid news, last night on my way home from work, I noticed that the map light or dome light was on in my new car while I was driving and I couldn't figure out how to turn it off. I'm trying not to be too distracted while feeling around on the ceiling for a button. I find a button, but it doesn't seem to be doing anything. Click-click, the light is still on.

And I wasn't about to go into my dash settings, because interior lighting just doesn't seem like the kind of thing you would bury in multiple layers of touch screen settings when you already have a button just right next to the light itself.

I was nearly home when I had convinced myself that it was some sort of electrical short and I had definitely bought a lemon. Once home I tried again while sitting in the driveway. The button next to the light has a little image of a shining light -- surely a symbol for an on/off switch. I'm pushing it but nothing is happening. So I give up, get the charger set up, and lock the car. Thankfully, of course, the light goes off once the car is locked.

Inside I start googling it and everywhere the answer seems to be 'Hey, there's a button next to the light!' ARGH!

Finally, I have the realization -- I'm gonna have to read the fucking manual.

So I bust out the manual and find the right section. My friends, the control for the map light is the light itself. You have to press the light itself. Not the button right next to it with a symbol of a light on it -- no, that's for something similar but different.

Annnnyhow, that was way too much energy spent worried about something that is just not intuitive.

[gloomwitchwrites]

Not a request I just would really love to know how you come up with your ideas? You put out a lot of content and it always unique! How do you do it??

Oh my gosh! Hi! Yes! Of course! I'd love to answer this question.

Ha. Okay. This is going to take some explaining, so hang in there as I ramble (because I will ramble.)

If you were to crack open my skull and peer inside, you'd find a nest of noise. It's loud in my head (it's anxiety and likely something undiagnosed) and I am thinking about anything and everything all at once. Really, I should be medicated, but since I'm not, I channel all that energy into being productive because I literally cannot be alone with my thoughts. I require constant distraction.

Writing is that distraction for me. It's very soothing for my brain when I take all that noise and focus it on something I really love, and it always produces productivity and creativity as a result.

My best friend is always like "how the fuck do you write so much??" and it's because it's a coping mechanism. It's a bit like therapy in a way.

When it comes to the What If & Imagines series, I cannot take all the credit. All except a handful of prompts have come directly from reader requests. While those specifically don't come from my head, they do act as a great starting point. I think about possible angles by considering how I believe the characters would act in those scenarios. I start small, and then expand if I think I need to. I also go into them knowing that I do not want to rehash the same thing four times, and I go out of my way to make sure each is different.

But beyond that, I'm always thinking and questioning and considering how I can turn something on its head. And I don't mean that just for my CoD work. I take that mentality with all the fandoms I write for. I carry a little notebook with me, my iphone's notes app is a literal jungle, the Google Docs app on my phone is also abused, and I write down anything that I'm like "I need to keep that." Sometimes if all I can grab is a sticky note, I'll use that and then shove it in my purse. And if I'm in the car, I'll dictate my thoughts through Siri to add them into my notes app or send an email to myself (through Bluetooth y'all; don't text and drive.)

I also schedule time to write, and I make a to-do list of what I want to accomplish during that writing session. It helps focus my brain.

I also stay heavily organized. Like heavily organized. I have lots of spreadsheets that are color-coded, and I purposefully assign "due dates" because it tricks my brain into thinking "you must get this done because it is assigned" and WHAM, I'm plugging away at the keyboard.

When I get stuck, I only ever reach out to my bestie. Sometimes I just need a fresh pair of eyes when I'm rolling ideas around in my head but something is missing and I have no idea what it might be. She's great about throwing a few suggestions my way that has me looking at the story differently, or considering a prompt from another angle.

But it's important to note that what works for me isn't going to work for everyone. I'm sure one of you reading this right now is thinking "Poppy, you need to fucking chill." And friend, I wholeheartedly agree. But if I'm not being productive through managing my anxiety-induced head noise, then I'm running on pure rage and spite.

Anyway! I hope that answered your question! Thank you so much for sending it in, and also kudos to y'all who read through all that. <3

~ Poppy

[aspenmissing]

Heyya! At first: Do not overwork yourself. We'll be as patiently waiting as possible! And at the end we all know, that our requests are in veryy good hands 🫶

At second: I have a little request for you: I saw your storys of the slow burn romances with Viktor and Silco (big shoutout). And I'm wondering, how such a romance would look like with Jayce. After he received so much hate during season 2, he deserves as much love as the other characters.

So, how about Reader and Jayce grew up together and are inseparable. They are both very affectionate towards each other with giving hugs or taking each others hand in their own when they are stressed. But they've never got over the friendship stage.

Even his own mother looses day after day faith in her own son, when he'll make the first move (secretly prays for Reader to do it, though).

It's pretty much fluff coded, but to be fair: Jayce is the golden retriever bf type.

ᴛʜᴇ ᴘʀᴏᴍɪꜱᴇ ᴏꜰ ᴜꜱ

ᴊᴀʏᴄᴇ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ (ꜰᴇᴀᴛ. ᴠɪᴋᴛᴏʀ, xɪᴍᴇɴᴀ) || ꜰʟᴜꜰꜰ || 7226 ᴡᴏʀᴅꜱ || ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: ꜰᴇᴀʀ ᴏꜰ ꜰᴀɪʟᴜʀᴇ, ᴇxᴘʟᴏꜱɪᴏɴꜱ, ɴᴇᴀʀ ᴅᴇᴀᴛʜ (ꜱɴᴏᴡꜱᴛᴏʀᴍ)

ʀᴇQᴜᴇꜱᴛ ᴀɴꜱᴡᴇʀ: ʜᴇʟʟᴏ ᴍʏ ᴅᴇᴀʀ ᴀɴᴏɴ! ɪ ᴀᴍ ɴᴏᴛ ᴏᴠᴇʀᴡᴏʀᴋɪɴɢ ᴍʏꜱᴇʟꜰ ꜱᴏ ɴᴏ ꜰᴇᴀʀ, ʙᴜᴛ ᴛʜᴀɴᴋ ʏᴏᴜ ᴠᴇʀʏ ᴍᴜᴄʜ! ɪ ᴀᴍ ᴠᴇʀʏ ɢʀᴀᴛᴇꜰᴜʟ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ᴛʀᴜꜱᴛ ᴍᴇ ᴡɪᴛʜ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʀᴇQᴜᴇꜱᴛ! ᴡʜɪᴄʜ ɪ ᴊᴜꜱᴛ ᴀᴅᴏʀᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ꜱʜɪᴛ ᴏᴜᴛ ᴏꜰ! ɪ ʜᴏᴘᴇ ɪᴛ ᴍᴇᴇᴛꜱ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴇxᴘᴇᴄᴛᴀᴛɪᴏɴꜱ ᴍʏ ᴅᴇᴀʀ! < 3 <3

ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ | ᴊᴀʏᴄᴇ | xɪᴍᴇɴᴀ

The early morning sun filtered through the dust-filled streets of the underbelly of Piltover. The air was thick with the sound of clanging metal, the distant chatter of workers, and the ever-present hum of a city that never truly slept. Y/N was no stranger to these streets. She had wandered through them countless times, scavenging for scraps, looking for anything useful she could find. Her hands were always dirty, her knees scraped, but it never bothered her. It was a part of life, something she accepted.

She was about ten years old, just starting to get a feel for the streets when she first laid eyes on him.

She had been chasing after an old junk cart, hoping to find some usable parts to take back home when a voice called out from behind her.

"Hey, you—watch out!"

Y/N spun around just in time to see a young boy, about her age, struggling with a pile of scrap metal that seemed too heavy for him to carry. The cart wobbled dangerously, the old wheels squeaking under the weight, threatening to tip over.

Without thinking, Y/N dashed forward, pushing the cart just in time to stop it from tipping over. The boy stared at her, wide-eyed, as she caught her breath.

"You... you helped me?" His voice was a mix of surprise and awe, his messy brown hair falling into his face. His hands were covered in oil stains, and there was a small scratch on his cheek. But his eyes were bright with curiosity, like someone who had never seen the world quite like she had.

Y/N shrugged, brushing her hands off. "Well, yeah. Didn’t want you to make a mess on the street. People tend to notice that kind of stuff around here."

The boy blinked at her, then chuckled. "I guess you're right." He stood up straighter, brushing the dust off his clothes. "I’m Jayce."

"Y/N," she replied shortly, still scanning the area around them for any signs of a good find. She wasn’t interested in making friends, not really. Not in this place.

Jayce noticed her distracted gaze and followed her line of sight. "You looking for parts?"

"Always," Y/N said, with a quick, sharp nod. "Got any more of those?" She gestured to the pile of scraps on the cart, her eyes gleaming with interest.

Jayce grinned, almost shyly, as he offered her a piece of metal. "You know, I could use some help with this. It's not easy doing this all by myself. But, if you help, I might share the good stuff." His tone was teasing, but there was an earnestness behind it—like he was trying to make an offer that might work in his favour.

Y/N raised an eyebrow, giving him a sceptical look. "You don’t know what’s ‘good stuff.’"

"I know a thing or two," Jayce said confidently, picking up a few tools and adjusting a small device on the cart. "I’m pretty good with machines. Not that I’m an expert or anything, but I’ve got some ideas for things I can build."

She eyed him for a moment, then shrugged. "You want my help? Fine. But if I find something better, I’m taking it."

Jayce laughed, his whole face lighting up. "Deal."

=

They spent the rest of the morning sorting through the junk pile, working side by side in a rhythm that felt oddly natural. He was careful, methodical in how he handled the pieces of scrap, and Y/N couldn’t help but admire how he approached the task. Even at that age, she could tell that there was something different about him—a certain determination in his eyes, a spark that made him stand out from the other kids she knew.

At one point, their hands brushed when they both reached for the same piece of metal, and neither of them pulled away. Jayce glanced up at her, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

"You know, you’re not half bad at this," he said.

Y/N gave him a half-smile in return. "I know."

=

By the time the sun was high in the sky, they had a small collection of parts piled together. Jayce looked over at her, his grin widening. "So, I think we make a pretty good team."

Y/N’s expression softened just a little. She wasn’t used to working with others, but there was something easy about being around him. Something that made the whole thing feel less like work and more like... well, something she could get used to.

"Yeah," she said quietly, not wanting to admit it out loud but feeling it all the same. "I guess we do."

And just like that, a bond was formed. Not through shared words or promises, but through the simple understanding that they were both out here trying to survive. They didn’t know it then, but this would be the beginning of a friendship that would last through everything.

As they parted ways that afternoon, Jayce looked over his shoulder and waved. "See you around, Y/N."

"Yeah," she called back, a small smile tugging at her lips. "See you, Jayce."

The days after their first meeting flew by in a blur of shared afternoons spent scavenging the streets of Piltover. Y/N found herself looking forward to those quiet moments spent working side by side with Jayce. He was unlike any other kid she knew—smart, curious, and always looking to fix things. And for some reason, Y/N couldn’t shake the feeling that maybe she liked being around him more than she cared to admit.

But nothing could have prepared her for the news she would hear just a few weeks later.

Y/N was walking through the bustling streets of Piltover when she overheard a conversation between two older women near a market stall. They were talking in hushed voices, but Y/N caught enough of the words to make her stop in her tracks.

"...caught in that storm. His mother... they're both in the hospital..."

Y/N’s heart skipped a beat. She’d seen Jayce just a few days ago, and the thought of him being in any sort of danger hit her like a cold wave. Without thinking, she turned on her heel and sprinted toward the nearest hospital, her breath coming in sharp gasps as the worry gnawed at her.

=

The hospital was busy, as always, with people coming and going, but Y/N pushed through, her determination clear on her face. She wasn’t going to let Jayce go through this alone. She needed to know if he was okay. She needed to see him.

As she burst into the waiting room, she spotted Jayce's mother sitting in a chair, her face pale and drawn, wrapped in blankets. But it was Jayce who caught her attention—sitting by her side, his face a mask of exhaustion, his usual spark replaced by a hollow emptiness.

"Jayce!" Y/N called out, rushing toward them.

Jayce looked up, surprise flashing across his face before it softened, a small, tired smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Y/N… What are you doing here?"

Without a second thought, Y/N sat on the chair besides him, her hands gently resting on his. "I heard what happened. Are you okay? You and your mom?"

Jayce let out a breath, glancing over at his mother before returning his gaze to her. "Yeah... we’re both alive, but… I don’t know what happened out there. It’s all a blur."

Y/N frowned, her fingers tightening around his. "Tell me what happened. Please."

He hesitated, his eyes distant as he remembered the terrifying ordeal. "We were caught in the snowstorm on our way home. The blizzard came out of nowhere… My mother collapsed, and I couldn’t carry her anymore. We were lost out there for hours. I thought we were done for."

Y/N’s heart ached for him. She could only imagine the terror he must have felt, not knowing if they'd make it through the storm. She wanted to tell him how sorry she was, but before she could, he continued, his voice barely above a whisper.

"But then… someone found us. Someone came out of nowhere, out of the snow. They... they saved us."

Y/N leaned in, her brow furrowing with concern. "Who was it? Was it a traveler? Someone from the city?"

Jayce shook his head, a mix of confusion and awe in his eyes. "No. It wasn’t anyone I recognized. They didn’t even speak. They just… appeared. Like magic. They were covered in this cloak and when they reached us, the wind seemed to die down, like they were controlling the storm itself."

Y/N blinked, her mind racing. Magic? She’d heard of mages before—rumors and whispers of powerful individuals who could bend the world to their will. But she'd never imagined something like this could happen, especially here, in Piltover.

"Wait… you mean they were a mage?" Y/N asked, trying to process the possibility.

Jayce nodded slowly, still staring at the door as if expecting the figure to walk in. "I think so. I don’t know much about magic, but the way they made the storm quiet... I’ve never seen anything like it. They didn’t even say a word, Y/N. It was like they were more force than person."

Y/N felt a shiver run down her spine. The thought of a mage saving them, someone with that kind of power, both confused and awed her. "That’s... that’s incredible, Jayce. You said they didn’t say anything, though? Do you think they meant to help you?"

Jayce’s expression softened, his eyes still distant but filled with gratitude. "I don’t know. I don’t know why they helped us, but… they did. And I owe them everything. My mom wouldn’t be here if not for them."

Y/N squeezed his hand tighter, feeling the weight of his words. "It’s okay. You’re safe now. You and your mom. Whoever they were, they saved your lives."

Jayce looked at her then, his tired eyes meeting hers. "I don't even know who they were. But I’m grateful, Y/N. More than I can put into words."

Y/N smiled, a playful glint in her eyes. "And so am I," she said, squeezing his hand. "I mean, who else would help me reach the top shelves for stuff, huh?"

Jayce chuckled softly, the tension easing in his posture. "I guess I’m good for something after all."

"Definitely," Y/N teased, a light laugh escaping her. "Just don’t get yourself into any more snowstorms, okay? I need you around."

"I'll try my best." Jayce raised an eyebrow. "I’m pretty sure no one else could handle the task."

Y/N smirked, nudging him lightly. "I have high standards."

"Well, I’ll make sure to live up to them."

And as they shared a quiet moment of humour, Y/N felt a deep sense of gratitude not only for the mysterious mage but for Jayce’s presence in her life. No matter what came their way, they had each other—and that was enough.

=

The next few days were filled with hospital visits and quiet moments as Jayce's mother recovered. Yet, there was something about that mysterious figure in the storm that still lingered in Jayce’s mind. The unanswered questions gnawed at him, and when he finally got the chance to leave the hospital with his mother, he asked Y/N to meet him at a quiet spot outside of Piltover.

Y/N agreed, though she couldn't help but wonder what had brought Jayce to ask her for this. When she arrived at the spot, a small stone ruin hidden away in the woods, she found him waiting near an old, weathered structure, his hand gripping something tightly in his fist.

"Jayce? What’s going on?" Y/N asked, her curiosity piqued.

He turned toward her, his eyes serious yet filled with a sense of urgency. "I need to show you something," he said, his voice low.

With that, he opened his hand to reveal a small, smooth stone, its surface covered in intricate markings. The stone seemed to hum with energy, a faint glow pulsing from within it.

Y/N’s breath caught in her throat. "Is that…?"

Jayce nodded. "The mage… when they saved us, they gave me this. It’s unlike anything I’ve ever seen, Y/N. I think it’s more than just a stone—it’s a symbol of some sort, maybe even a key to something."

Y/N reached out to touch it, her fingers brushing the surface. The moment she did, the stone seemed to respond, the markings glowing brighter for a moment before dimming again.

"It’s powerful," Y/N whispered, awe evident in her voice. "But what does it mean, Jayce?"

He shook his head. "I don’t know. But whoever they are, I think they’re trying to tell me something. And I’m going to figure it out."

Y/N met his gaze, determination reflecting in her eyes. "I’ll help you. We’ll figure it out together."

Jayce smiled, the weight on his shoulders lifting slightly as he looked at her. "Thanks, Y/N. It means more than you know."

And with that, the bond between them deepened once more—not just as friends, but as partners in whatever mystery lay ahead. No matter the storms that came, they would face them together, side by side.

Years passed, and Piltover changed around them, but Y/N and Jayce remained constants in each other’s lives. Their appearances had evolved, reflecting their growth both individually and together.

Y/N had grown into a young woman with quiet strength and a newfound grace. The once unruly hair she used to wear in a hurried style had grown longer, now falling in effortless waves. Her features were more defined now, the sharp angles of her face softened with time, yet her piercing eyes—the same eyes full of curiosity—remained unchanged.

"You’ve come a long way, haven’t you?" Jayce would often say, noticing how much she’d matured, her focus and determination evident in her work.

=

Jayce, too, had transformed. The lanky boy from their youth had filled out into a man of presence. His broad shoulders and sharp jawline were a result of years of hard work, his once-messy hair now neatly styled, though a few strands always managed to escape.

"You’ve turned into someone who actually looks the part," Y/N teased, her smile warm as she watched him tinker with his latest invention. His eyes still held that familiar warmth, the idealism he’d always carried with him.

=

Despite their growing accomplishments, their bond had only deepened. Side by side, they navigated their studies, both pushing each other toward their shared dream of reshaping Piltover.

"It’s different now," Y/N would say, glancing at him after a long day of work.

"But it still feels like we’re just starting." Jayce would chuckle, his hand brushing hers for just a moment.

"We’ll always be in this together." And somehow, in those small gestures, they both knew it was true.

The streets of Piltover were as bustling as ever, the golden rays of the sun reflecting off the towering structures that symbolized the city’s wealth and innovation. Yet, nestled in the quieter corners of the Academy, there was a space where time seemed to slow. The sound of scribbling pens, the soft hum of machinery, and the occasional excited muttering of students filled the air—an atmosphere of intellectual chaos and creativity.

Y/N sat at a wooden table, papers strewn about in front of her. Her fingers absently traced the edges of her notes, but her mind was elsewhere. Her gaze kept drifting toward the door, where Jayce had just walked in with his usual energy. His broad grin was impossible to miss, and he winked playfully when he caught her eye.

"Still drowning in work, huh?" His voice was warm, the tone full of that familiar comfort that had always been there.

Y/N sighed, dropping her pen with a chuckle. "I swear, if I see one more experiment on basic elemental energy, I might just lose it."

Jayce chuckled and strode over, stopping beside her desk. Without hesitation, he pulled her into a quick, friendly hug, the kind they’d shared for years. "You’ll get through it, Y/N. You always do."

Y/N leaned into the embrace, letting herself relax for a moment. His presence was always reassuring, like a steady anchor amidst the chaos of their work. She rested her head briefly against his chest, taking in the familiar scent of him—oil, metal, and something unmistakably Jayce. She held on for a few extra moments, just savouring the quiet comfort of the hug.

"We’ve been through this a hundred times," Jayce murmured, his voice soft but steady. "You and me. Always together."

Y/N closed her eyes, her fingers curling around his in an unconscious gesture of connection. It wasn’t just the work they had shared for years; it was the moments like this—simple, steady moments that felt like home. In all the years that had passed since they were kids running through Piltover’s streets, the bond between them had remained unchanged. They had each other’s backs, no matter what.

"Always together," Y/N repeated quietly, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze before pulling back slightly to look up at him. The words came easily—had always come easily—but now, they felt like a promise. A promise they hadn’t yet needed to break.

Jayce gave her a small smile, one full of understanding. They both knew their lives had changed. Piltover had changed them, the Academy had changed them, and yet the core of their friendship remained the same. They were a team. Always had been. But sometimes, just sometimes, Y/N wondered if there was something more beneath the surface.

"I’ve missed this," she said softly, her voice barely more than a murmur. "I know we both have so much going on, but when it’s just us… it’s like nothing’s changed."

Jayce’s smile widened, and he shrugged casually. "I guess some things are meant to stay the same." He leaned down, brushing a lock of her hair behind her ear in that familiar way that made her heart race, though she couldn’t explain why. "You know I’m always here, right?"

Y/N nodded, feeling the weight of his words in her chest. "I know."

The days that followed felt heavier for Jayce. His usual energy seemed drained, his mind constantly preoccupied with the failure of his latest experiment. The project he'd been working on for months—an attempt to harness the power of the crystal—had faltered. His hands were still stained with soot from the failed trial, his brows furrowed as he sat in front of his workbench, staring at the half-formed piece of technology that refused to work.

Y/N had noticed the shift in him. There was a weight to his silence now, a frustration simmering beneath the surface that he couldn’t shake. She had seen him struggle before, but this was different—this felt like more than just another setback.

She walked into the lab, quietly closing the door behind her as she saw him hunched over the workbench. His back was tense, his shoulders stiff as if the failure had become something more than just a problem to solve.

"Jayce?" Her voice was soft, hesitant, like she wasn’t sure if she should interrupt his thoughts.

He didn’t look up right away. His hands trembled as he fiddled with a piece of metal, but the spark of determination that once burned in his eyes was gone. He exhaled deeply, his frustration spilling over in the quiet space. "I can’t fix it, Y/N," he muttered, more to himself than to her. "I thought I could do it. I thought I could make a breakthrough, but… everything I’ve tried has failed."

Y/N approached him slowly, her gaze soft but unwavering. She could see the toll it was taking on him, the way the failure had burrowed deep into his chest, making him doubt himself in a way she’d never seen before.

She reached out, placing her hand gently on his arm. "Jayce, you’ve always been the one to push the boundaries. You don’t need to fix it all at once," she said, her voice full of conviction. "You’ve come so far already, and you’ve done things others could never dream of. One failure doesn’t mean you’ve lost everything. It means you’ve learned something. You always learn something."

Jayce’s shoulders slumped, the exhaustion settling deeper in his bones. He met her gaze for the first time, his eyes full of uncertainty. "What if I’ve hit my limit? What if I’m just not cut out for this?"

Y/N shook her head, her grip on his arm tightening as she stepped closer, her presence steady and strong. "Jayce, I’ve known you for years. I’ve seen the way your mind works—how you never give up. You’ve come so far, and this? This is just a bump in the road. It’s not the end. You’ll figure it out. You always do."

She reached up, gently cupping his face in her hands. Her touch was warm, grounding him in the moment. "And you don’t have to do it alone. I’m right here, always. You’ve never been alone in this, and you don’t have to start now."

The words settled in the air between them, and for a moment, the weight of his frustration seemed to lift just a little. Jayce’s breath shuddered as he let the truth of her words sink in. The constant pressure, the fear of failure, had clouded his mind, but with her here, reminding him of who he was—of what they had always been—he felt that familiar spark reignite, though faintly.

He reached for her then, pulling her close, his arms wrapping around her as if holding onto the only thing that could bring him back from the edge. Y/N held him tight, her own heart beating steady and sure in her chest.

"I don’t know what I’d do without you," he whispered against her hair, his voice muffled but full of meaning.

Y/N pressed her cheek to his chest, breathing in the comfort of his presence. "You’ll never have to find out," she replied softly, her voice full of certainty. "We’ll figure it out together. Always."

For a long moment, they stood there, the world outside fading away, leaving only the warmth of their embrace. And in that quiet space, Jayce found something he hadn’t realized he needed: a reminder that failure wasn’t the end, and that no matter how many times he stumbled, she would always be there to help him rise again.

Years passed, and Piltover's skyline continued to stretch higher, its gleaming towers casting long shadows over the streets below. Yet, in the quiet spaces between progress, life for Y/N and Jayce had become even more tangled with their work, their ambitions, and each other. The city had seen both triumphs and setbacks, and so had they.

It all began when Jayce's apartment, the place where he had once found solace from the weight of the world, was shattered by an explosion. The crystal he had been studying—still unpredictable, still volatile—was to blame. What had started as a promising experiment to harness its power turned into a catastrophe. Some kids had gotten into the building, snatching materials from Jayce’s workshop, their reckless behavior causing the crystal to destabilize and ignite. The blast ripped through his apartment, leaving nothing but rubble and debris where it had once stood.

Y/N had been by his side in an instant, rushing to the scene as the chaos unfolded. The devastation was immediate, the shock of seeing everything Jayce had worked for reduced to nothing more than a pile of ashes weighing heavily on her chest. She found him amidst the wreckage, covered in dust, his hands trembling as he surveyed the damage.

"Jayce," she had whispered, the sight of him in that state almost too much to bear. She moved to him, her presence offering a small comfort in the storm of emotions he struggled to contain. "Are you…?"

Jayce looked up at her, his face drawn with frustration, disbelief, and pain. "It’s gone, Y/N. Everything." His voice cracked, the weight of his failure finally catching up with him. "The work, the ideas, all of it... destroyed."

Y/N had wrapped her arms around him, holding him close, her heart aching for him in a way words couldn’t capture. She didn’t have the answers, but she was there, as she always had been. "You'll rebuild it," she said, her voice steady, though she shared his grief. "We'll rebuild it."

=

In the aftermath of the explosion, the Academy had threatened to expel Jayce, the destruction of his apartment seen as a direct consequence of his reckless experimentation. The shock of nearly losing everything, compounded by the looming threat of expulsion, left Jayce reeling. But Y/N was there, a constant presence, keeping him grounded as the tension mounted.

"Jayce," she said one evening, after another heated discussion with the Academy’s council. "You can’t let this define you. You have to keep going. This setback… it’s not the end. You know that."

"I don’t know anymore, Y/N." His voice was heavy, full of uncertainty. "I thought I was close. I thought I had it all figured out. But now… now it feels like I’ve lost everything."

She reached for his hand, squeezing it tightly. "You haven’t lost anything. You’ve learned something. And we’ll figure out the rest together, just like we always have."

=

In the midst of everything, something unexpected happened. Viktor, the enigmatic scientist with a mind as brilliant as Jayce’s, entered the picture. The two had met during the tumultuous aftermath of the explosion, and though they initially had their differences, a shared understanding began to form between them. Viktor’s vision for the future, his work with the crystal, and his own struggles with Piltover’s more conservative academic circles resonated with Jayce in ways he hadn’t expected.

It was Viktor who first suggested that unlocking the true potential of the crystal didn’t lie in perfection, but in embracing its chaos, its unpredictability. And so, Jayce and Viktor began experimenting, testing theories and learning from their failures. They snuck into Heimerdinger’s lab late at night, using his forbidden equipment to push the boundaries of their research. The work became all-consuming, a place where both men felt alive with the possibility of what they could accomplish together. But it wasn’t until after the dust had settled, after they had spent nights unearthing new discoveries, that Y/N came to understand the depth of what they’d uncovered.

Jayce rushed into Y/N’s apartment, breathless, his eyes wide with excitement. He had moved in with her after the explosion destroyed his own apartment, and now, his sudden appearance felt like a wave crashing over her.

“Y/N,” he said urgently, voice shaking with a mix of awe and fear, “we’ve done it. We’ve figured it out. The crystal… it’s more than we ever thought. Viktor and I—” He paused, trying to catch his breath. “We’ve unlocked something incredible. Something… dangerous.”

Y/N stood up quickly, concern flickering across her face. “What do you mean, ‘dangerous’?”

Jayce ran a hand through his hair, his excitement tempered by a moment of uncertainty. “It’s not just energy, Y/N. The crystal—it’s alive. It reacts to emotions, to intentions. And Viktor, he… he thinks we can control it, shape it into something that could change everything. But I don’t know if it’s ready. I don’t know if we’re ready.”

Y/N’s heart raced, but she reached out, placing a hand on his shoulder to steady him. She could see the weight of what he was saying settling in his eyes. “Jayce, you’re not alone in this,” she said, her voice calm but firm. “Whatever this is, we face it together.”

For a moment, they stood there in silence, the gravity of the situation heavy in the room. Y/N could see the fire in Jayce’s eyes, the same spark she had seen in him all those years ago, and despite the uncertainty, she believed in him. She always had.

“I know,” Jayce said softly, finally letting out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. “I just… I need you to know everything. We’ve opened a door we can’t close.”

Y/N nodded, her gaze unwavering. “Then we’ll figure it out together. But you have to promise me one thing—no more secrets. No more keeping things from me.”

Jayce met her eyes, the unspoken bond between them solidifying once again. “I promise.”

It was another quiet afternoon in the Academy’s lab, the usual hum of activity filling the space as students and professors alike worked away. Jayce and Y/N were seated at the same table as usual, papers and notes scattered around them, deep in discussion about their latest findings. Their hands occasionally brushed as they passed materials back and forth, their movements so synchronized that anyone watching might have thought they'd been doing this for years. And in many ways, they had.

Ximena, however, wasn’t just anyone.

She stood at the doorway, watching the two of them from across the room. A smile tugged at the corner of her lips as she observed the effortless dynamic between them—the way Jayce looked at Y/N when she spoke, the subtle but comfortable touches that passed between them. The unspoken connection was palpable, and Ximena could practically feel the weight of the tension that hung in the air.

It was one of those days where she didn’t even need to be a mind reader to sense it.

She wandered over to their table, her presence enough to interrupt their focused work. Jayce glanced up at her, the usual friendly grin on his face, but it was the way he turned to Y/N, the way their eyes met, that made Ximena’s grin widen even further.

“Hey, lovebirds,” Ximena teased lightly, leaning on the edge of the table and giving them both a knowing look. “How’s the great scientific duo doing today?”

Y/N rolled her eyes but smiled. “We’re working, Ximena. Not sure where you’re getting these ideas from.”

Jayce chuckled, shaking his head. “You really know how to interrupt, don’t you?”

“Oh, I just know a thing or two about chemistry when I see it,” Ximena said, raising an eyebrow as her gaze lingered on the way they interacted—comfortable, natural, almost too easy to be just friends. “But hey, if you two are too busy to notice, that’s your call.”

Y/N, her cheeks coloring ever so slightly, quickly looked away and busied herself with a new set of notes. But Jayce, ever the easygoing one, seemed a little more on edge, a slight shift in his posture that Ximena didn’t miss.

“Really, mama?” Jayce asked, his tone teasing but with a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes. “You’re not gonna start this again, are you?”

Ximena shrugged nonchalantly, her eyes sparkling with amusement. “I’m just saying, you two have been inseparable for years. If you’re not gonna make a move, someone else might. Just a thought.”

Y/N let out an exasperated laugh. “You know, you’re really bad at being subtle.”

“I’m not being subtle at all,” Ximena replied, crossing her arms. “Just speaking the truth.”

She gave them a moment, watching as Jayce shot her a playful glare, while Y/N's lips twitched in amusement. There was something undeniable between them—something that didn’t need to be said aloud, but Ximena couldn’t help herself.

“Alright, alright, I’ll leave you two to your work,” she said, holding her hands up in mock surrender. “But, just so you know, the clock’s ticking. And time waits for no one.”

With that, she turned and left, her light steps echoing as she disappeared down the corridor.

Y/N and Jayce shared a brief, lingering look. Neither of them said anything at first, but the unspoken words were there—familiar and heavy in the space between them.

Y/N cleared her throat, trying to shake off the quiet but growing feeling that Ximena’s words had sparked. “She’s insufferable, isn’t she?”

Jayce let out a quiet laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah. But I guess she’s not wrong about everything.”

Y/N glanced at him, her heart skipping a beat before she quickly looked back down at the papers in front of her, focusing on the task at hand. Despite everything, she couldn’t help but feel the weight of what had just been said—and the unspoken promise that hung in the air.

The air in the Academy’s grand hall buzzed with excitement for Progress Day—a celebration of innovation and breakthroughs. Y/N stood near the back, her eyes drifting toward the stage where Jayce stood, ready for his moment.

The years since the discovery of the crystal’s true power had been a whirlwind. Together with Viktor, Jayce had revolutionized Piltover’s understanding of energy. Their work had made waves, both celebrated and criticized, but its impact was undeniable. Now, Jayce was about to present their latest progress.

He stood tall, more refined than before, his youthful exuberance tempered by years of pursuit. Yet, that same spark remained in his eyes—a passion that had driven him from the start. He was Piltover’s embodiment—bold, brilliant, and unrelenting.

"Thank you, everyone, for joining us today," Jayce’s voice rang out, calm yet powerful. As he spoke, his gaze swept over the gathered crowd, his expression one of quiet determination. "We stand on the precipice of something truly extraordinary. What we’ve accomplished in the last few years has changed the way we understand energy, and it has the potential to change the very fabric of our society."

He paused, letting his words settle in the room, as the audience leaned forward, hanging on every word.

"But we’re not finished," Jayce continued, his eyes flicking briefly to Viktor, who stood just off to the side. "What we’ve unlocked is only the beginning. The crystal—this incredible energy source—isn’t just a tool. It’s a gateway. A way to reshape the future of Piltover and the world beyond."

Y/N watched from the sidelines, her heart swelling with pride. She knew the struggles Jayce had faced to get here—the doubts, the failures, the moments when it felt like the weight of the world was pressing down on him. But here he was, standing before them, delivering the speech of a man who had found his place in the world. A man who had never given up on his dream.

As Jayce spoke about the future of the crystal and the potential for limitless energy, Y/N couldn’t help but smile. He had come so far from the nervous young scientist who once stumbled over his words. But there was more to this moment than just his success—it was the culmination of everything they’d built together, the trust, the partnership, and the understanding they shared.

"You see," Jayce concluded, his voice growing more passionate, "this is just the start of a new era. We are the ones who will define what’s possible. Together, we will lead Piltover into a future built on progress, on energy that can change lives, and on a vision that can unite us all."

The room erupted into applause, the sound deafening as the crowd stood to their feet. Jayce’s eyes gleamed with excitement, but as his gaze swept over the room, he couldn’t quite find her. Y/N was always there, her presence a constant through the years, but now, amidst the sea of faces, she was nowhere to be seen. A moment of confusion flickered in his expression before he realized where she might have gone.

Excusing himself from a few lingering conversations, Jayce made his way through the throng of congratulatory well-wishers, his eyes scanning the hall until they landed on the balcony door. The glass doors were slightly ajar, and a soft breeze blew from the outside. He didn’t hesitate.

=

He stepped out onto the balcony, the warmth of the room replaced by the coolness of the evening air. The sun had set, casting a golden hue over Piltover’s towering skyline. His gaze immediately found her. Y/N stood there, leaning against the railing, her back to him, lost in the view of the city stretching out before them.

"Y/N," he called softly, not wanting to startle her.

She turned at the sound of her name, her expression unreadable, but the familiar warmth in her eyes was unmistakable. She didn’t say anything at first, just offered him a small smile that somehow held a world of emotion behind it.

Jayce stepped closer, feeling a mix of pride and something deeper that he couldn’t quite name. He had just made history, but in that moment, it didn’t matter nearly as much as what he shared with her.

"You were looking for me," she said after a pause, her voice quiet but steady.

"Yeah," he admitted, his grin turning slightly sheepish. "I didn’t see you when I finished the speech. I… I wanted to share this moment with you."

Y/N’s eyes softened as she studied him. She took a breath, her gaze drifting out over Piltover, the city they’d both poured their hearts into. The city that had taken so much from them and given them even more in return.

"You did it, Jayce," she said, her voice full of pride and something more. "All of you did. I’m so proud of you."

A faint blush tinged his cheeks at her words, and he shrugged, his tone light. "It wasn’t just me. Viktor, you, all of us. We’ve been through so much, and we’re here now because we stuck together. Because we believed in it."

A faint blush tinged his cheeks at her words, and he shrugged, his tone light. "It wasn’t just me. Viktor, you, all of us. We’ve been through so much, and we’re here now because we stuck together. Because we believed in it."

Y/N turned her eyes back to him, the city lights reflecting in her gaze. "You really believe that, don’t you? That this is the beginning of something bigger."

Jayce nodded, his voice quieter now, the weight of everything they had accomplished settling on him. "I have to. It’s everything we’ve worked for. Everything we’ve sacrificed."

There was a moment of silence between them, a quiet understanding that hung in the air like a shared secret. The distance between them, once filled with years of uncertainty and obstacles, now seemed to have narrowed. In the cool night, it was just the two of them—the steady hum of the city beneath them, the years of work and struggle, and the quiet bond that had never wavered.

Y/N finally spoke, her voice almost a whisper. "You’ve come so far, Jayce. I can’t imagine what it must feel like… all your dreams coming true."

Jayce took a step closer, his hand brushing the railing, his mind racing with the weight of her words. He opened his mouth as if to speak, to tell her how much this moment meant, to confess that his dreams had always felt within reach, until now. Everything he had worked for was unfolding right before him—the accolades, the recognition, the future of Piltover. Yet, as he stood there with Y/N beside him, there was still one dream, one wish, that remained just out of reach. The dream he had kept hidden, buried beneath years of friendship and the uncertainty of whether it could ever be more.

=

He could feel it—the pull in his chest, the overwhelming urge to tell her everything. To say that all of this, all of his success, felt hollow without her by his side. But the words got stuck, tangled in the fear of risking what they already had. It was a dream he had longed for, but he wasn’t sure if it was one she shared.

A frustrated sigh escaped Jayce as he looked down, his fingers tightening around the railing, as if holding on would somehow make the weight of everything more bearable. “There’s still… one more dream I’m waiting to come true.”

Y/N noticed the hesitation, the way his voice faltered, and her gaze softened with understanding. She could see the storm in his eyes—the victories he had earned were meaningless without that one thing still lingering between them, unspoken and uncertain.

"You’re not just talking about the progress, are you?" Y/N’s voice was soft, gentle, yet steady with the knowing.

Jayce met her eyes, a small but undeniable vulnerability flickering across his face. "I thought it was something I could bury, something I could put aside," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "But every step forward, every accomplishment… none of it feels complete without you."

The weight of his words settled between them, and for a long moment, they just stood there, the hum of the city and the warmth of the night wrapping around them like a soft blanket. In the quiet space between them, Y/N could feel the truth in his words, and her heart swelled, both knowing this moment could change everything.

"Maybe I’ve been reaching for it, too," she murmured, her voice steady now, as she took a step closer to him.

As he hesitated, Y/N’s gaze softened, catching the conflicted look in his eyes. She could see the struggle written across his face—he was holding something back, something important. Without a word, she stepped closer, her fingers brushing the edge of his tie as she gently pulled it, drawing him toward her.

Before he could react, she closed the distance between them, her lips meeting his in a kiss that was both tender and urgent. The cool night air seemed to disappear as everything fell away, leaving only the two of them. Jayce froze for a moment, his mind reeling, but then his arms found their way around her, pulling her closer as he kissed her back with a depth of feeling that he hadn’t known he was capable of.

When they finally pulled away, their breaths mingled in the cool air, their foreheads resting together. Y/N’s eyes were soft, her gaze steady as she met his.

"I couldn’t wait for you to say it," she murmured, a smile tugging at her lips. "I’ve known for a long time."

Jayce’s heart raced, a rush of relief and warmth flooding through him. "I guess I wasn’t as subtle as I thought."

"You never were," she teased gently, her voice light but filled with affection. "But I’m glad you finally got there."

He chuckled softly, shaking his head. "It’s just… I didn’t want to risk what we already had. But I’ve felt it, for so long. For years, Y/N."

Y/N’s smile softened, her thumb brushing across his jaw. "I’ve felt it too, Jayce. It’s always been there. But we were both too scared to say it."

And as they stood there, wrapped in each other’s embrace, overlooking the city that had brought them together, both of them knew this was only the beginning. Years of unspoken feelings, of waiting for the right moment, had led them to this. Whatever the future held, they’d face it together.

[jaymoriarty-knight]

Charles forced himself to present contentment and peace while his insides burned with the grief and loss he couldn't escape. He would play his part and fulfill his marital responsibilities, but he could never love Prince Sebastian.

The Prince assured Charles that he would grow to love his soon to be husband. Charles only ever smiled politely and changed the subject. The only joy Charles found was in his daily ride. He loved his horse, which reminded him of Erik.

It was on one such ride that Charles met three people, a woman with striking blonde hair, a short, angry looking man, and an individual whose gender Charles could not tell with vibrantly blue skin.

"Excuse me, my good sir," the blonde woman started with a smile. "We are but lost circus performers. Is there a village nearby?"

Charles shook his head, "there is nothing nearby for miles."

The woman's smile turned venomous. "Then there will be no one to hear you scream."

Charles turned pale. "I beg your pardon-?"

The short man approached Charles’s horse, grabbing Charles’s leg and yanking him to the ground. Charles hit his head on a rock and went limp.

The man tossed Charles over his shoulder like he weighed nothing and brought him to the boat.

The blonde woman tore the crest of a Guilder army officer off a coat and placed it on Charles’s horse, sending his horse back the way it had come. She knew it would find it's way home without it's rider.

Emma intended to make Florin believe Guilder had kidnapped their prince-to-be. The two countries were sworn enemies and this crime would cause war between them. The crime would be made all the worse with Charles’s murder. His body was to be dumped on the Guilder frontier.

"You never said anything about killing anyone," the man protested upon hearing Emma’s plan.

"I hired you to help me start a war!" Emma snapped at Logan. "Its a prestigious line of work with a long and glorious tradition."

"It isn’t right, killing an innocent man." Logan shook his head.

"Am I going mad," Emma glared at Logan, "or did the word "think" just escape your lips? I didn't hire you to think!"

"I agree with Logan," Raven cut in. She didn't feel it was right to kill Charles either.

"Oh, the sot has spoken," Emma said venom in her tone. "What happens to him is hardly your concern. I will kill him myself. You just remember that I found you," Emma poked Raven's chest. "You were so bloody drunk you couldn't buy brandy. And you," she turned on Logan. "Friendless, brainless, useless. I'll send you right back where I found you."

Logan and Raven exchanged looks.

Charles woke to find himself bound up in ropes. He vaguely thought, surely they can't think I'm a threat, before deciding it didn’t really matter what they thought of him while he was miles out to sea.

"We'll reach the cliffs by dawn." Emma said, sounding rather cheerful to Charles.

Raven looked over the bow of the ship, "are you sure no one is following us?"

"That would be inconceivable."

Charles felt half tempted to warn his kidnappers that they would be caught, but he found he couldn't be bothered. What did it matter to him? At least if he died he could be with his Erik again.

While his kidnappers looked at something Charles couldn't see and said things he couldn't hear, he wriggled in his bonds, discovering that they weren't all that tight. He loosened them enough to break free. While they were all still distracted, Charles dove into the water.

Emma whipped around at the splash, fury running through her. "Go get him!"

Raven shrugged, "I can't swim."

Logan shook his head. "I sink like a rock."

Emma gave a frustrated groan. "Veer left!"

Raven turned the ship as an odd shrieking reached Charles’s ears.

Emma grinned. "Do you know what that sound is, highness? Those are shrieking eels. They adore devouring human flesh!"

Charles felt fear rise up his throat. As depressed as he was, Charles found he didn't really want to die by shrieking eels.

"Come back to us, Highness. I promise no harm will come to you. I doubt the eels will offer you any sort of deal."

Charles felt his heart race as an eel got closer, its jaw opening to reveal a row of sharp teeth. It snapped its mouth just inches from Charles, who backed away as much as he could.

Charles kept swimming away from the eel until he was close enough to the boat for Logan to grab the back of his tunic. Logan hauled Charles back into the boat, dropping Charles on the floor. Emma retied Charles’s wrists, taking the end of the rope and tying it to the mast.

"That should keep you from being stupid, Highness." She smirked.

"Wait, you jumped out of the boat?" Scott interrupted.

"I did." Charles patted Scott’s hand.

"But why? Surely you know it wouldn't work. Where would you have gone?"

"I'm not all that sure," Charles contemplated. "But I simply didn't want to be kidnapped."

"But you ended back with them. What happened?"

"Well if you stopped interrupting the story," Erik said lightly.

@cherikdogfood

If anybody else wants a tag, just let me know :)

[eliasmelody]

PART 2!

Tag: Evelyn x f! reader, Richard x f!reader, Sangria x f!reader, Ithaqua x f!reader, maid reader

Warning: grammar & spelling

INTRO:

The manor loomed in the distance, its silhouette hidden by thick mist. Occasionally, events would unfold within its walls, an enigma that few could comprehend. To survivors, they were a cruel mockery; to hunters, it was nothing more than a meaningless occurrence. Yet, no one understood the manor’s logic. All they could do was follow, drawn by its unrelenting pull.

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Faro lady - Evelyn Mora

She notices your gaze on her dress and can't help but smirk. Evelyn is aware of her own beauty and how it affects others. In the past, she used it for her own advantage in high society, gaining trust and maneuvering through social circles. So it's not surprising that she finds your reaction amusing.

But still, a compliment is a compliment, and she is eager to accept every bit of it.

"Ah, you have a good eye for beauty. I have to admit, I do look quite captivating in red, don't I?" She said before you could even utter a word. With a small twirl, she let the skirt of the dress flutter slightly. The fabric clung to her figure, accentuating her slender waist and curves, as she basked in the attention.

You blush and nod shyly, barely managing to whisper.

"Oh~ Don't be jealous, sweetheart. I'm sure we can find something more fitting for you" Evelyn cooed, lifting your chin with a soft touch.

You blinked at her, puzzled. "...Me?"

She gives you a sweet smile, her hand gently tilting your chin up to meet her gaze. "Yes, you."

She steps closer, her voice smooth and velvety. "You're quite an adorable maid, aren't you. Running around helping with the festival. I bet you'd look stunning in the proper attire."

"... For what?" You ask, still confused, your voice tinged with uncertainty.

She hums softly, a playful glint in her eyes.

"My little assistant, hun." She replies dramatically, her hand fluttering as though she’s performing on stage. “I need someone to hold my things, make sure my dress stays perfect, and attend to any little details that might distract me from enjoying myself.”

Her tone is playful, but the way she looks at you makes it clear that there's no escaping this role she's crafted for you. "Of course, I’ll make sure you're treated well, fine clothes, special privileges for your... help today."

"How?" you ask warily, suspicion creeping into your voice. There's no way she knows the manor's rules for maids... does she?

"I have my ways." She replies, a sly smile playing on her lips.

You sigh, resigned, know there's no escaping it now. But you're still not entirely sure about this. It's all so new to you, and the rewards don’t exactly sound tempting enough to outweigh the uncertainty.

Evelyn's smile widens as she adds, "And no tomorrow’s chores."

“Deal.”

Knight - Richard Sterling

He chuckled as he noticed the expression on your face. "Ah, you seem a bit disappointed to see me."

"Go away." You say, turning your back on him.

His smirk grows as he takes a step closer, invading your space. "No need to be so rude."

"I'm busy. So, if you don’t mind, I’m really not interested in anything you have to say."

He leans in even closer, his face mere inches from yours, his smirk never faltering, clearly relishing the subtle irritation in your eyes.

"Careful." He murmurs, his voice low and teasing. "I could easily silence that sharp tongue of yours, you know? After all… a damsel in distress shouldn’t be so harsh on her knight."

"I am not a—" you start, but before you can finish, he cuts you off with a teasing glance.

He brings a hand to your waist, his touch surprisingly gentle as he steadies you. "Oh, you're not a damsel in distress, huh?"

He responds mockingly, his smirk still on his face. "Then what are you, darling? Just a pretty maid, lost in this manor, with no one to protect her, no one to take care of her?”

His words drip with mockery, and a sharp memory surfaces, the time you’d slipped out of your duties, avoiding the long, pointless task the manor had assigned you. It wasn’t like anyone knew, except for him. The weight of his knowing gaze lingers as his smirk deepens, a challenge in his eyes.

You narrow your eyes, suspicion creeping in. "What do you want?"

Leaning in, his gaze fixed on yours, full of mockery and challenge.

"What do I want, you ask?" His dry chuckle lingers in the air as his smirk widens, his voice lowering, dark and deliberate.

"You, darling. I want you… "

A cold shiver runs down your spine as his words hang in the air. His dark, dangerous eyes lock onto yours with a predatory intensity, as if they’re searching for something deep within you. You swallow hard, the unease settling in your chest as his gaze holds you captive.

"... to accompany me tonight."

And suddenly, it's gone. The weight of his gaze lifts, and the tension in the air fades, leaving you breathless and confused.

"What?"

"Tonight, 8 o'clock. I would like to see the color white on you." His smirk returns, lips curling as he steps back, his voice smooth and teasing.

You stand there, feeling the weight of his words lingering in the air long after he's gone.

"...But I don't have any white—Ugh"

Maybe Vera will have some spare for you.

Opera singer - Sangria

She quietly observes, refrain from darkening the atmosphere for those who wish to celebrate.

The unease in her eyes betrays her calm exterior. It's been a while since she's sung, and she’s torn between feeling honored and anxious when being invited. The weight of the moment seems heavy on her shoulders even though it's just a small event.

"You look nervous”

Sangria glances down at the small frame of the manor maid, her gaze lingering for a moment.

Sangria's eyes soften slightly, a faint, almost imperceptible sigh escaping her lips. "It's been so long, I'm not sure I'm ready" She admits, her voice barely above a whisper. "Even though this stage is smaller than the one in my hometown"

Your face brightened slightly. "You've performed elsewhere before? I mean, of course you have. Your title is opera singer, after all."

You couldn't help but blush, feeling heat rise to your cheeks. "Sorry, I've never met an opera singer before. Hence, I've never watched opera."

Sangria raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. "Really?" she asked, her tone gentle. "Not even once?"

You shook your head, a bit sheepish. "Unfortunately, I always thought it was... too formal or something. Like, I wouldn't fit in."

She laughed softly, a warm, reassuring sound. "Opera may appear daunting at first glance, but once you immerse yourself in it, you'll find it far more intimate than most presume. It’s not about conforming; it’s about surrendering to the music, allowing the emotions to consume you."

Sangria caught herself rambling and cleared her throat. She give you a sheepish smile. "I tend to get a bit carried away when it comes to... this."

You chuckled, feeling a bit more at ease. "It’s okay. I mean, if I had a passion like that, I’d probably do the same."

She laughed, her eyes softening. "It’s not just a passion, it was my life. But I suppose everyone has their own thing that makes them feel alive, right?"

You smile softly, taking in her words. The silence stretches for a few moments, both of you lost in the quiet. Then, her name is called. Just before leaving, she turns back to you.

She glances over her shoulder with a playful smile, her eyes locking with yours. "Say, I would love a glass of champagne after my show."

You bow slightly. "Right away, ma’am."

Her smile deepens, and with a final glance, she turns toward the stage.

You hadn’t expected her to be so friendly. Maybe not all hunters are as intimidating as they seem. Some just need the right person to see their true side.

Night Watch - Ithaqua

The hunter is currently standing on the balcony of one of the manor's many luxurious rooms, his hand gently gripped around the railing that lines the balcony's edge. His gaze is fixed on the garden below, which is currently bathed in intense light. It hurts his eyes, not used to so much color.

He lets out a low sigh before glancing at the door that leads into the room behind him. He really didn't appreciate the amount of people that would be present in the manor this time.

Ithaqua’s eyes scan you, lingering on every detail of your figure. The intensity of his gaze sharpens with each passing second. Then, a smirk curls on his lips as realization hits.

"Well, if it isn’t the little mouse" He says with a teasing edge.

You sigh, already knowing what’s coming. "Can you stop calling me that?"

"Why would I?" He replies with a shrug, his tone playful yet laced with something darker.

You roll your eyes, frustration bubbling up. "It’s childish. I’m not some helpless thing for you to toy with."

Ithaqua’s grin spreads wider, his voice dropping to a low, teasing tone.

"Always scurrying around, cleaning the corners of the manor."

"… Me?" You reply, raising an eyebrow, but his unwavering gaze locks onto you.

"Yes" He answers, the word dripping with amusement.

"Sneaking around at night"

"… It’s my duty to check the hallways" You say, a hint of defensiveness creeping in.

"Small" He muses, his lips curling at the corners. His voice is almost a purr.

"Hey" You snap, stepping back slightly, irritated.

His voice drops to a whisper, too soft, too intimate, as though he’s speaking directly into your ear. "A mouse."

You groan in frustration, crossing your arms tightly. No matter what you say, he just won’t stop. You sigh, knowing he won’t relent. It’s almost like he enjoys getting under your skin. His smirk only grows, clearly enjoying the effect he has on you.

You tap your shoes impatiently, not even bothering to look at him. His gaze still burns into you, unwavering and unrelenting.

After a long silence, he picks up a chocolate, studying it for a moment before his smirk returns. With a casual motion, he extends the piece toward you.

"Here" he says, the teasing still present in his voice. "A treat for my little mouse."

"... Mouse doesn't eat chocolate" You mutter, your tone pointed.

Ithaqua’s smirk only deepens, his eyes gleaming with mischief. "So you admit you're one?"

"..."

":)"

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Source: idea from “"IDV x The Chara cafe collaboration" (None of the pictures are mine)