#land of mine soundtrack

[astrxthesiai]

Rover (female) Tags

⇢✶ i am a ghost you’re an angel《rover’s questionnaire results》 [Questionnaire Results]

⇢✶ but i’m only one girl《rover’s headcanons》 [Headcanons]

⇢✶ this silence is mine《rover’s musings》 [Musings]

⇢✶ the silent protagonist speaks《rover’s answers》 [Ask Replies]

⇢✶  trials in a strange land《rover’s replies》 [RP Replies]

⇢✶  with only the wind’s melody to guide《rover’s soundtrack》 [Soundtrack]

⇢✶  over in an instant《rover’s aesthetics》 [Aesthetics]

⇢✶  rover in a strange land《rover》 [Self]

⇢✶  the arbiter rover《rover’s main verse》 [Main Verse]

[just-my-latest-hyperfixation]

Suck my candy cane

Written for the @steddieholidaydrabbles, day 7

Prompt: Candy cane

Rated: T

Tags: Horny disaster Eddie Munson; Mall elf Steve; Steve in tights; Confident Steve; Gareth is a little shit; Flirting; Sexual innuendo

“Okay, I can't take this anymore,” Gareth blurts, rudely interrupting Eddie’s build-up to their next epic battle. “If I have to fight another goblin horde to the soundtrack of that Last Christmas song, I'm gonna smash something for real.”

Jeff and Frank nod in agreement.

Eddie scoffs, slurping at his lukewarm, half-empty milkshake. The visitors of the food court give him disgusted looks.

“Gentlemen, we've been over this. We can't use the drama room while the theater nerds are practicing their play. We won't all fit into mine or Gareth's bedroom, Frank's mom is having his aunts and cousins over for the holidays, and Jeff's parents won't allow our godless heathen game anywhere near their home. So, unfortunately, we must make do.”

“Yeah,” Jeff says. “But the mall? Seriously?”

“What’s wrong with the mall?” Eddie asks, throwing out his hands and almost hitting a plastic Christmas tree.

“It's loud,” says Gareth.

“It's crowded,” says Jeff.

“It's the very embodiment of everything despicable about capitalist America, especially around a commercialized holiday such as this,” says Frank. “Your own words.”

Eddie glares at them.

"Okay, noted,” he says, “But we can't be picky. Think of it as an exercise in holiday spirit. Did not the virgin Mary herself birth our lord and savior in a humble stable?”

“Yeah, because she literally had nowhere to go,” Gareth snaps. “Not because she was ogling Steve Harrington in tights.”

Eddie almost chokes on his shake.

“I have no idea what-”

Jeff cuts him off. “It's okay, just admit it. Spare us the embarrassment.”

Eddie sighs, eyes flitting over to Santa's workshop, where the subject of their discussion is handing out candy canes to excited children. He's wearing the same silly elf costume as all of the other unfortunate souls selling their workforce and their dignity for minimum wages around the mall, complete with the hat, pointed shoes and cheap, green shorts. They ride up as he bends down to talk to the kids, revealing more of his perfectly shaped thighs. Thighs clad in long, skin-tight stockings, red and white like the candy canes in his hand. Eddie wants to lick them. The thighs, not the candy canes. Which is probably weird of him, but he never claimed to be normal.

“Was I that obvious?”

Frank gives him a deadpan stare. “Jeff cheated on several of his rolls and you didn't notice because you were so busy staring- ow, what the fuck?”

Jeff lowers the fist he just punched him with. “Oh, as if you didn't!”

Eddie gasps.

“Betrayal! Seems like we are the only ones left with any respect for the game, Gare- … Where's Gareth?”

Gareth's chair is empty. Jeff and Frank swivel their heads in the direction of Santa's workshop. The very workshop that Gareth is just approaching with brisk steps.

Eddie feels the color drain from his face.

“No,” he croaks. “What is he doing? He isn't- … Gareth, come back!”

Gareth doesn't come back. Instead, he taps Steve on the shoulder, who flinches and turns. Now Eddie can't see his face anymore - just Gareth's obnoxious grin as he starts talking at him. For a few seconds, during which Eddie desperately wishes for super hearing, they stay like this. Then, Gareth lifts a hand and points straight at their table.

Eddie dives for cover under the nearest tree. Fake cardboard presents scatter in his wake.

“Let's get outta here,” Frank mutters, standing and gesturing for Jeff to follow. Eddie gawks after their retreating backs.

“Where are you going? Come back, you cowards, I'm gonna kill you!”

“Pretty sure that's not a good idea, dude,” someone behind him says. “Sounds like it would land you on the Naughty list.”

Eddie dies. Resurrects again. Possibly dies again in the seconds it takes him to turn around. When he finally does, he finds himself face to face with a pair of legs. Absurdly shapely legs clad in red and white striped tights. They're somehow even more perfect up close.

“I'm up here, y’know?”

Eddie forces himself to drag his eyes all the way up, past the damn shorts (Jesus fucking Christ, Munson, whatever you do, don't get stuck staring at his crotch), and to Steve’s face. He's smiling. There's Christmas lights twinkling behind him.

“Hi,” Steve says. “Eddie, right?”

Eddie makes a noise that sounds like “uuoomph”. When he pulls his hair in front of his mouth, he realizes that there's tinsel tangled in his curls.

Steve laughs. For a second, Eddie thinks that the guy's laugh sounds like literal fucking bells, but then he notices the tiny actual bells sewn into his hat and sleeves.

“Here,” he says, holding something out in front of Eddie’s face, who goes slightly cross-eyed. “Your friend said you wanted to … suck my candy cane.”

He holds Eddie’s dumbstruck gaze and winks, slow and deliberate. Gareth is a dead man.

“Uh, thanks I guess,” Eddie mutters, but when he reaches out to take the candy cane, Steve withdraws his hand.

“Unfortunately, those are only for good boys.”

“I am,” Eddie blurts. “I'm so fucking good, man, I promise. Definitely not planning on killing any of my friends or anything. I'm a prime example of good behavior.”

Steve regards his flushed, desperate face and frowns. “I dunno. I'd love to just take your word for it, but I'm under very strict instructions to make sure.”

He tilts his head, like he's pondering their dilemma. Then, just as Eddie is about to snap, he lightens up.

“Here's an idea,” he says, reaching out to pick the tinsel out of Eddie’s hair. His voice tickles the shell of Eddie’s ear. “I'm off in thirty minutes. Why don't you meet me in the parking lot and let me see for myself exactly what a good boy you are?”

Eddie has a feeling that, if he plays his cards right, he may get to suck something way sweeter than candy today.

More holiday drabbles

[myfairkatiecat]

How to Undo Spells in the Grimmerie (it's possible now because my friend said so)

**This is intended to work within musical canon, and specifically when relevant movie canon, because that's the version my friend watched.

I was speaking with an irl friend of mine who is just now getting into Wicked after seeing the movie. After listening to the soundtrack, he texted me. The conversation (in a roundabout way with a lot more stuff getting discussed) basically went like this:

Him: So Fiyero never dies and therefore outlives all his friends and that's his existential tragedy.

Me: oh. oh yeah you're so right

Him: Elphaba should un-scarecrow him

Me: spells from the grimmerie can't be reversed

Him: says who, Madame Morrible? Who can barely read the Grimmerie?

Anyway we went back and forth about this for a little while and landed on: you can't undo a spell from the Grimmerie, as in, take back the magic. However, there are counterspells. Madame Morrible does not know about these because she can barely read the book, Elphaba does not know about them because no one taught her about them, and Magical Wise One Kristin and Magical Wise One Idina are little trolls who write spells with hyperspecific wording to get people to accidentally turn their boyfriends into scarecrows and therefore also trolled people by telling them they can't reverse the spells just because it was technically true. What they failed to mention is that you just have to use a new spell: a counterspell. Therefore, the misinformation that you have to live with the consequences of every single Grimmerie spell has been passed down through generations of sorcerers, while Magical Wise One Kristin and Magical Wise One Idina giggle in their graves.

Which is something Magical Wise One Kristin and Magical Wise One Idina would do, anyway.

So here's my friend's step by step guide to how he created a counterspell for the one Elphaba used to accidentally turn him into a scarecrow, which would therefore turn him back into Fiyero. Enjoy.

So yeah! Will be referencing this method for fanfic purposes! Because I think the idea that there's a secret loophole in the "no reversing spells" rule as simple as "perform the secret counterspell" makes for great fanfiction material.

Everyone say thank you Katie's irl friend

Okay, now you can go about your days. Thanks for stopping by, Wicked fandom

[lalacliffthorne]

⚔️ I really don't think now's the best time ⚔️

Azriel x Reader

summary: battlefields are really not the right place for important revelations.

notes: like I said, this is totally inspired by that iconic scene in Pirates of the Carribeans. there's a shit ton of fighting involved, so prepare for graphics. if you want to go all in, listen to this specific part of the soundtrack over and over again and the vibes will be immaculate. now go and have fun, kids.

______________________________________________________________

The middle of a battlefield was arguably the worst place for any kind of not remotely expected revelation.

“Why,”, gritting my teeth, I swung my sword and neatly decapitated the huge, wolf-like beast, “do they,”, dodging a blow, I dropped to my knees, whirling through the mud and slicing open another one's belly, “keep,”, I slid to my feet and finished in an angry, “coming?!”

Slashing my sword across a soldier's throat, I turned around. A gust of wind sent a splatter of rain right into my face, strands of soaked hair clinging to my cheeks as I breathed heavily, my gaze darting over the world going to shit around me, my heart rising in my chest as I tried to catch a glimpse at the familiar sight of blue blazing siphons and leathally flowing shadows.

The battlefield was complete and utter chaos. The heavy rain that had set in only shortly after the fighting began had turned the land into one huge muddy puddle, dirt splashing and covering allies and enemies alike. Our defenses were close to being overrun. In the sky, only a few Illyrians were left fighting alongside Gwyn, the only Valkyrie on the northern flank, up against gryphons with talons like iron and blood red eyes. The rest of the Illyrians had taken to the ground, now fighting side by side with the Fae warriors left on foot, but more enemies seemed to just come flooding from the North, like a never ending stream of monstrous beasts and soldiers armed to the teeth.

Something churned in my chest, and I had to fight the surge of dread rising in my chest.

Unless Feyre turned up with reinforcements soon, we were dead.

There was a call of my name, deep and thundering over the sound of battle, and when I slashed my swords over one beast's throat and raised my head, my heart tilted in a wild flutter.

Azriel kicked a soldier back before turning to look at me over his shoulder. His dark hair was soaked by the rain, mud sprinkled over his armor, the sword in his one hand and Truthteller in the other gleaming with blood. His eyes looked wild, but something flashed through them for nothing more than a second when they found mine.

“I need to tell you something!” His deep voice reverberated over the battlefield.

I sent a soldier flying with a kick to the chest and caught another's blade with my crossed ones, yelling back: “I'm a little busy at the moment!”

Slicing my swords down, I dropped to my knees, sliding over the muddy ground and taking down a row of soldiers with blades to the back of their legs before coming back to my feet, and my breath hitched, my heart dropping out of rhythm when Azriel appeared right in front of me from a cloud of shadows, wet hair curling and mud and blood spattered over his face as his eyes darted over my face, wild and almost desperate.

“It can't wait!”, he called.

Breathing heavily, I stared up at him through the rain pelting down, feeling the ache of my sore body wash over me now that I wasn't moving, and my brows furrowed as concern tightened my chest; because I had never seen him so blatantly unguarded and expressive, emotions practically swirling in his eyes.

“What –“

Azriel pushed me back, and I whirled around, deflecting a blow of a soldier coming at me as the shadowsinger rammed his daggers into another one's chest in the place I had just stood, rain running over his face and shadows rising, wrapping around a third soldier's throat.

“I really don't think now's the best time!”, I yelled, the slight absurdity of Azriel of all people deciding he needed to talk in the middle of a battlefield making my voice dip almost comically.

"This might be the only time!” Azriel's deep voice vibrated over my skin, his rough shout audible even over the roar of the rain and the clashing of weapons, and I whirled around, sword flying down on a soldier's neck and sending blood spattering.

A hand closed around my biceps and pulled me back, then I was spun around, and my heart skipped into my throat when Azriel's chest pressed into mine and he dipped his head, his eyes flying over my face as streams of rain ran over his own, and something like desperation flashed through them when he called over the war cries and clashing of weapons: “I –“

His eyes darted up as my instincts flared in warning, and we moved at the same time, his shadows throwing up a wall against a wave of ash arrows as I slid past him and threw one of my swords at the beast, huge and bear-like, leaping at us. The weapon sank into its side, causing it to crash onto the ground, and I whirled around and rammed my other sword into its throat.

“I need you to know –“ Azriel broke off again, dodging a sword and gutting the belonging soldier in one smooth movement, and I landed a kick on another soldier's back.

“Are you sure this can't wait?!”, I yelled back, diving to avoid a blow to the head and rolling off over my shoulder, sliding through the mud and baring my teeth at a beast that growled back before jumping at me, and I dipped and slit it's throat.

Azriel stabbed his daggers into another wolf-like monster, siphons blazing as he beat his wings and a wave of shadows rolled away, drowning a row of soldiers as he turned, and something staggered in my chest at the sight of him; shadows shrouding his tall, lean body and curling around his shoulders, even broader under his black armor as a flash of lightning illuminated his face.

Even caked in dirt and blood, drenched by the heavy rain as drops of water ran from his hair over his cheekbones, he was utterly and annoyingly beautiful.

“Yes!”, he called back, and I whirled around, swords slashing and reflecting another strike of lightning as thunder rolled and I knocked a soldier to the ground. “I need you to know tha–“

There was a snarl, and I dove out of the way, rolling through the mud as a beast crashed into the spot I had been in a mere heartbeat before. I pushed myself up and slammed my swords down into its back with an angry sound, then I raised my head, my heart thrumming and adrenaline rushing through my veines, and my eyes met golden ones, desperate and wild and only hesitant for a second before the chaos vanished, replaced by something else, something deep and worldshaking. Then Azriel's deep voice rumbled over the noise of the battle.

“I love you!”

The world fell still for a moment. Became quiet and stagnant as my heart did one mighty leap.

Then time fell back into place, something staggered in my chest, and my eyes grew wide.

“What?!”

Somehow, I dodged a blow crashing down out of nowhere, parrying another and directing it to the side as I slid my other blade over the soldier's throat, ramming my shoulder into his chest to push him back before turning around wide eyed, and my gaze met another, shining like amber in sunlight.

“You –“

Movement at the corner of my eye made me duck, and I swerved, dropping to my knees and sliding over the muddy ground. Ramming my swords into two soldier's lower regions, I pulled them out and used the momentum to push myself to my feet. Then I whirled around and yelled, disbelief and sheer shock making my voice rise an octave: “You what?!”

A hand closed around my wrist and pulled me forward, and I stumbled into a solid chest, my heart jumping into my throat as my head whipped up and I could feel the sensation of shadows rising behind me and heard swords dropping and a struggle. But it all felt far away, because I could feel Azriel's body press against mine and his eyes were piercing, looking wild and desperate and pained when he called over the noise of the battle, voice rough: “I love you!”

My throat closed as I opened my mouth in shock; Azriel pulled me past him, and I whirled around and parried the blows of a soldier, slicing my swords over his arms before ramming my blades into his chest, then I threw my head around, my wet hair clinging to my face, and Azriel dropped another soldier. For a second, our eyes met, mine wide and completely dumbfounded, then he dodged a blow.

“You –“ I tried to get closer to him but almost got jumped by a huge beast. Shadows wrapped around me and pulled me back, and Azriel slit a soldier's throat before looking back at me, rain running over his face and desperation flashing through his eyes as he yelled: “I had to make sure you knew!“

A war cry made me spin around, and I dodged, swerving the blow of a sword and slashing my own across the soldier's throat, blood spattering as I yelled back in almost comical disbelief: “So you're telling me now?!”

A hand wrapped around my wrist, whirling me out of a beast's reach and right into the way of a sword crashing down, my own blades catching it effortlessly. A familiar scent rose into my nose, distinct even under the smell of blood and dirt, and my heart thrummed into my throat as I pushed, my swords sinking into the soldier's chest, then I spun around, rain dripping over my skin as I stared wide eyed at the male right in front of me. He was so close that I could hear the roughness in his voice even though he didn't shout, one corner of his lips quirking almost helplessly as his eyes dragged over my face like he wanted to ingrain it into his mind when he called hoarsely: “Better late than never.”

My heart skipped into my throat as I stared up at him, and my lips parted, but then Azriel's eyes darted up, and he pulled me out of the way, his sword catching the one of an enemy soldier.

“What –“ I gutted a gigantic wolf, widening my eyes as I threw the shadowsinger a disbelieving look. “How late is late?!” I ducked, swerving the blow of a sword and ramming my own blade into the side of the soldier's neck.

“I couldn't lose you! If you knew -"

"Azriel!" My shout made his head whip around, and I stared at him, breathing heavily, feeling an ache build under my ribs as I widened my eyes desperately. "Since when?!"

"Since the day you stayed up with me for first time!” Azriel dodged a blow. “Probably even before that.” He raised his head, and something rose in my chest when his amber eyes found mine, his voice raspy when he called lightly: “Probably from the moment I met you and everything went silent.” His gaze flickered over my face, and my heart skipped and tumbled at the emotion swirling inside as he added hoarsely: “I think it's always been you.”

My throat closed up, and I kicked a beast to the side and sliced through some soldier's necks.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that it's you.” Even though Azriel's voice was raised, I could still hear how unsteady it was, raw as the words tumbled from his lips as he called them over the raging battle around us. “From the day I met you, there was something about you that made everything wash away, that made breathing easier, everything easier, even though you drive me insane sometimes! Something that makes me want to be with you, all the time, that makes not being with you fucking ache!” His eyes flickered over mine, chest rising and falling quickly with his heavy breaths as rain streamed over his face, and his throat worked like he was trying not to swallow.

“And it scares the shit out of me, but I don't care anymore!” His rough voice sent shivers down my spine when his amber iris found mine. “You're it.”

Something rose in my chest, fluttering so wildly it felt a little difficult to breathe.

“Why the hell did you never say anything?!”, I yelled in disbelief, and Azriel's jaw shifted as he dodged a blow, slicing the soldier's throat.

“Because I was afraid you didn't feel the same, and I couldn't lose you!”

“What?!” Rain pelted down at me, my soaked armor becoming heavier with every moment, but for a change, I didn't feel any of it. Breathing heavily, I stared at the godsdamned beautiful male, and my heart rose, rose until it was in my throat and the world turned into a tilt.

“Of course I do!”

Azriel's head whipped up, and I kicked a soldier away and slashed his throat before turning around, feeling the words echo through me as I yelled: “I love you too, you idiot!”

As the last syllable left my lips, Azriel stared. Stared as something seemed to rise in his eyes. Then darkness wrapped around him, and he appeared in front of me like formed from shadows. His amber eyes were bright with desperation and something so much deeper, it caused my breath to simply still. Caused my heart to swell and time to slow as he took one last step and slipped his arm around my waist, his scent washing over me in an intoxicating wave, his movements never faltering as he leaned down without an ounce of hesitation, and something shifted in my chest, locking into place with a soundless snap when his lips crashed onto mine in a hard, desperate kiss.

My heart pulsed once. Twice, as something bloomed under my ribs, warm and rising until it thrummed through my whole chest, pulling towards the male pressed against me, body tall and solid and unwavering, and I sucked in a soft, trembling breath.

Oh.

Slowly, Azriel broke the kiss, like he had to force himself to pull back, his nose brushing against mine and causing my heart to miss a step. Then he slowly raised his head, and my breath hitched, gave out completely for a second when I caught the way his iris shifted like amber in golden sunlight, lips parted and gaze piercing mine.

There was a war cry behind me, and Azriel's eyes snapped up, sharpening.

My heart flew, and my instincts kicked in.

Azriel pulled me out of the way with a growl, and I whirled around, swords clashing with two others, blocking their blows as I dropped to my knees and turned, and the blades found their home in the soldier's stomachs. Pulling them out, I raised my head, and my throat closed up when I saw our lines slowly beginning to unravel while the steady stream of beasts and soldiers didn't seem to waver.

My gaze found Azriel, in a cloud of shadows, teeth bared in a snarl and blades flashing in a clash of lightning, rain pelting onto his shoulders, and that feeling in my chest rose until I was sure it had to be visible, like a golden light thrumming under my ribs.

“Azriel!”, I shouted desperately, and he slammed the hilt of his sword onto an enemy soldier's head before turning around, amber eyes finding mine.

My heart tightened almost violently, and before I could stop myself, before even really thinking, I called, my voice a little weak: “Marry me?”

Azriel froze. Stilled on the spot as shadows swirled around him, catching ash arrows and knocking out soldiers, his eyes piercing mine as emotions swirled through them like the storm above.

And suddenly I knew he felt it. Maybe not yet that the bond was vibrating in my chest, thrumming in synch with my racing heart. But that he knew.

Azriel blinked against the rain pouring over his face, and I could see how he suppressed the urge to swallow. Then he shouted, his deep voice causing my heart to flutter: “Gwyn!”

My breath hitched, and Azriel's eyes pierced mine, golden and bare and burning as he yelled: “Marry us!”

“I'm a little occupied right now!”, Gwyn shouted from high above us, cursing as her winged horse barely managed to swerve around a gryphon.

A soldier came at me, and I dodged his blows, sliding my sword over his chest.

“Gwyn!”, I yelled, my voice breaking, and somehow, she must've heard it over the noise and chaos, because she yelled back, only halfheartedly annoyed: “Fine! If I fall, it's your fault!”

I landed a kick on the soldier's chest and sent him flying backwards, then I turned around, and Azriel was there, his hand wrapping tightly around my wrist as he pulled me forward until we were chest to chest, and that golden thrum in my chest soared at the way his eyes pierced mine.

“Dearly beloved,”, Gwyn yelled over the roar of thunder, “we've gathered here today to pull every single one of your feathers, you miserable excuse of a bird!”

There was an irritated screech followed by a scuffle high over our heads, and Azriel pushed me back as two enemy soldiers came at us with swords drawn. Swinging around, I sent my blade down onto the right one's hand, severing it cleanly, and as he screamed, I shoved my sword into his chest.

Azriel called my name, and when my head whipped around, his hand closed around mine, pulling me out of the way of a beast and with my back into his chest, his deep voice rumbling through my body when he shouted over the rain: “Do you take me,”, I kicked out and the beast yelped, “to be your husband?”

Slashing my sword over the beast's snout, a laugh bubbled in my chest when Azriel spun me around, and my heart rose in my chest when I stared up at him, feeling pressure build in my throat as his eyes darted over my face, almost like he was expecting me to change my mind, pull back -

“I do!”

Azriel blinked, and his eyes brightened, became as radiant as amber held into the evening sun. Something shifted in my chest when a smile spread over his face, widening with every second, until creases formed in his cheeks and crinkles around his eyes, and I had to physically fight to keep myself from burying my fingers in his messy hair and pull him in to kiss him.

There was a war cry from our left, and I widened my eyes and jumped back, feeling the a blade whizz down where I had been standing just seconds before, and Azriel growled, wings flaring and sending out a wave of shadows that took down the row of soldiers behind him as I parried the next blow and slammed the soldier to the ground.

Whirling around, I grabbed Azriel's outstretched hand and yelled: “Do you take me,”, I ducked under his arm and blocked a blow, “to be your wife?” Azriel pulled me back, parrying the next as I stabbed my sword into another soldier's stomach. “On the good days and the bad; though,”, smoothly slicing the soldier's throat, I growled, “we might not see a lot more!”

Azriel's grip tightened, and he twirled me around, pulling me out of the way of another soldier, and my heart fluttered violently when my chest pressed into his and that golden feeling thrummed when Azriel nodded, eyes darting over my face and deep voice hoarse when he called over the rain: “I do!”

My breath hitched and heart fluttered, the feeling in my chest rising, and above us, Gwen yelled: “Then hereby, you may be bound! Bound by soul, bound by heart, bound to one!”

There was a flare of heat in the middle of my chest, and my breath hitched when Azriel's grip tightened like he felt it too; the burning of a tattoo appearing on his skin, the sign of the vows made visible in ink.

Gwyn's voice echoed through the skies when she yelled: “You now may –“

Movement at the corner of my eye made Azriel and me dart apart.

“You now –“

I dodged a blow, Azriel's hand closing around mine and spinning me around to parry another as his sword clashed with a third.

“You may kiss the –“

Thunder struck, I ducked under a beast's claw, then Gwyn shouted in frustration: “Godsdamnit, just kiss her!”

My heart surged and skipped and Azriel pulled me around; his arm wrapped around my waist as mine slipped over his shoulder and I could feel him dipping me back lightly as he leaned down, then he kissed me.

Kissed me as rain poured down our faces, my free hand slipping up to cradle the side of his neck and my breath hitching as I kissed back, deep and desperate, and a hoarse sound rumbled in Azriel's throat as he tightened his grip around me, kissing me like it was the first and last time.

The sound of a horn ripped me back into reality, reminding me that the world was close to ending.

Azriel pulled me back up onto my feet, breaking the kiss, and I was thankful that he was just as out of breath as I was, could feel his heart pounding just as quickly. Then he raised his head, and when I looked over my shoulder, my heart skipped high as relief so kneebuckling washed over me, I was glad Az was still holding me.

The cavalry had arrived.

“Come on, you two!”, Gwyn yelled somewhere above us, sounding gleeful. “Let's finish this!”

I raised my head, and Azriel's arm slipped away from my waist, amber eyes finding mine. For a second, I could see something flash through his gaze, like he expected me to pull back, suddenly regret this.

But I just sent him a wide, wicked smile.

“Shall we?”

~

It was still raining, but the storm had moved on. In the west, the clouds were breaking up, allowing the light of the sinking sun to flood over the lowlands, making the light rain shimmer as a rainbow spanned across the sky.

Breathing in deeply, I tipped my head back and closed my eyes as I felt the rain drizzle onto my face and body, washing away the smell of blood from the air and only leaving the scent of wet grass and moss to fill my nose with every slow inhale.

Feyre's arrival with the reinforcements had turned the tide, every last warrior gathering all their remaining strength. Still, there had been many losses, even after our victory, and wandering through the bloody mud, paying respect to the fallen, had caused a weight to rest on my chest, one that could not even be brushed away by the knowledge that my friends, my family was alive; exhausted and strained and with quite a few scratches, but alive.

Which was why I was standing on a hill, a little away from the tents, just listening to the patter of rain and breathing in the clean air as I felt the tension slowly melt from my muscles, leaving only exhaustion and heaviness in my limbs and a feeling of being so tired, I felt like falling asleep on the spot.

I felt him before I heard the call of my name, the feeling in my chest that had shrunk to a small, warm hum pulsing and growing.

Tipping my head back down, I looked over my shoulder, and my breath hitched when Azriel came towards me.

Just like me, he was still in his armor, specks of mud and blood on his cheeks, hair damp and curling like he had attempted to dry it and then got distracted. His dark brows were drawn together as his golden eyes pierced into mine.

“What are you doing?”, he called, his low, deep voice sending pleasant shivers down my spine.

He looked so close to his usual scowl, I felt my heart rise and skip as my lips curved up.

“Cleansing,”, I called back, and Azriel huffed, but it almost looked like he was fighting to keep his lips from twitching as he crossed the last bit of distance.

Turning around, I squinted up at him through the drizzle of rain, the thrumming thing in my chest soaring at the sight of him.

Godsdamned beautiful.

Up close, I could see the signs of exhaustion. His shadows were lazily swirling around his feet, his wings were drooping so much they almost grazed the ground, and his eyes were tired. But something sparked in them when they moved over my face, my heart skipping when I could feel his warm breath brush over my forehead.

“You know we have this ingenius invention for that? It's called a shower.” His voice was so dry, my heart skipped, and a smile slowly spread over my face, wide and bright and freeing in a way that caused something to stagger in my chest.

Azriel's eyes narrowed in, and his shoulders seemed to sag a little.

“I know.” Squinting up at him, I felt my smile grow smaller as I shrugged softly, something tightening gently in my chest.

Azriel's gaze flickered over my face. Then he blinked, and my heart fluttered into my throat when he reached out, gently pushing a wet strand of hair out of my face. His fingers, out of his gloves, brushed over my skin, warm and rough, and my breath hitched, a shudder running over my spine.

One corner of Azriel's lips curved, and that thing in my chest pulsed and thrummed at the way his golden eyes started to shine.

The shadowsinger dipped his head, and my heart skipped and jumped when his lips brushed over mine. Then his thumb and forefinger gently closed around my chin, and Azriel tilted my head back to kiss me, deep and slow until I sank into his chest, my knees simply too tired to keep up with the way all of him made the world spin. My fingers curled into his sides, and Azriel's other hand rose to move to the back of my neck, gently tangling in my hair, and his thumb brushed over my skin until a soft sound broke from the back of my throat and my whole body shuddered.

Azriel's lips curved up against mine. Then he slowly pulled back, and my heart skipped when I saw his eyes, lids heavy and iris hazed over, the only thing betraying him; showing that I had more than the same effect on him that he had on me.

The thought made something rise and flutter in my stomach.

I blinked. Then I furrowed my brows and mumbled: “Crap.”

Azriel's gaze cleared a little, brows drawing together, and his hand slipped down to rest against the side of my neck. “What?”

I stared past him into nothing.

“I just realised we have to explain to Rhys and Cass that we got married without them.”

[gingerteawrites]

PIRATE - GOJO SATORU

A/N: I was studying last night and at some point the pirates of Caribbean soundtrack came up on my playlist. And I just couldn't shake the image is Gojo being a pirate, so this brain of mine HAD to write something about it.

Content: Gojo x female reader, sfw

Pirate!Gojo whose name is feared across the seven seas. The blue-eyed devil is his moniker, a man known for his unsatiable ambition and terrifying strength. Even the royal navy had resorted to avoiding him, too prideful to walk away from yet another defeat at sea.

This mighty reputation brought as much admiration as it did vitriol. From those who envied his great fortune, to others who sought to discover the secrets of his strength.

Disguised as a lowly sailor, Pirate!Gojo slipped into the crowded bar in dire need of alcohol, and perhaps company for the night.

When you approached with the wooden jug full of beer, he had expected for you to offer more intimate services. That was the norm for him, after all. But you delivered the drink and walked away without as much as a second look, and he grew intrigued beyond belief.

Pirate!Gojo who spends the evening watching you. Quietly working in the raucous bar, slipping in-between groggy men and putrid sailors. You had not stopped once to talk with anyone. Not even the other girls who seemed to be endless chatterboxes. You did not seem like the shy type, but neither did you have the attitude of haughty women.

Pirate!Gojo whose need for the booze slowly subsides, giving rise to a need for you. Of discovering what laid behind the mask of silence. He leaves his quiet corner for the bar, set on breaking your shell. The notion of a challenge always made his blood grow warm. Excitement at the opportunity to test your limits. Or maybe his own.

Unfortunately for him, a drunk man recognizes the tufts of white hair peeking from under his scarf, and charges at him angrily, shouting about a stolen loot during an encounter years ago. Chaos mounts in the small space, with everyone hoping to land a hit on the famed sea devil.

Pirate!Gojo who is utterly astounded when you grab his hand and help him slip out of the bar with a stealth worthy of praise. In the shadows of the night he observes your face, a pleased smile pulling at his lips.

“I owe you one, missy.” He comments when you finally let go of his hand. “Though I don’t know why you would venture to help the blue-eyed devil.”

“I expect compensation.” He is thrown into a fit of laughter when the words exit your mouth

“Well I guess that is to be expected.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “Name your price.”

A list of possible options ran through his mind. Gold coins? Maybe jewelry… What could someone like you possibly be after?

“You.” He blinked at your words, not sure if he heard correctly.

“Did you say me, little lady?” You took a step, closing the distance between the two of you.

What a daring display of recklessness he mused. Hadn’t you heard the stories? Didn’t you know how strong he was? How easy he could kill?

“I want you, Gojo Satoru. That is my price.”

Pirate!Gojo who finds himself enamored by the fire behind your eyes. By the daring boldness. By the sentiment behind your actions, that did not seem to stem from the blind worship women approached him with.

Pirate!Gojo who does not realize he is falling to his demise, letting you join the crew. Letting himself into your arms. Letting you so close. Because there was only one thing that BountyHunter!Reader was truly after, and that was Gojo’s head.

Hehe, I was genuinely evil cackling while writing this. Please let me know what you think!

Reblogs and comments are much appreciated(❁´◡`❁)

[daryl-dixon-daydreams]

"Daryl? You're still awake?" you asked, sitting up in the middle seat of the SUV and rubbing your eyes. The rain was pattering lightly on the roof and it was a sweet soundtrack, calming.

"Yeah, uhh—I couldn't sleep," he drawled from the backseat. He was sitting up by the low light of a small lantern you'd scavenged in another broken down vehicle.

"Oh." You leaned your chin on the top of your seat and peered back at him. "Are you okay?"

"Me?" he asked. "Yeah. 'M fine. You?"

"Yeah," you said. "I was dreaming about something..." you trailed off, straining to remember. You couldn't grasp any details, but you knew it wasn't a bad dream. On the contrary, you felt quite warm and content. "I don't know what it was though. I can't remember."

Daryl ducked his head and suddenly became interested in a tear in the knee of his pants. "Uhh—ya were talkin' in yer sleep," he said.

"I was?"

"Mhm," he hummed, still avoiding your eyes. "Couldn't really make out most of it. But ya said—somethin' 'bout—" he broke off and ran a hand nervously over the back of his neck. "Ah, nevermind," he said.

"What? No, come on! What did I say?" you pressed him, laughing lightly. "I want to know!"

He glanced up at you furtively and gulped. "Ya said my name—"

"Oh." Your cheeks flushed.

"And, uhh—somethin' 'bout—wantin' somebody to move closer maybe... I dunno..." he drawled dismissively.

"Oh..." you said again. You paused thoughtfully. "Well, doesn't it make sense that—that I was probably still talking about about you? If I said your name?"

Daryl gulped again and shrugged. "I dunno... It was kinda hard to tell what ya were sayin'. And I wasn't exactly tryin' to eavesdrop... Seemed—personal, ya know." He looked up and the next moment you were climbing over the middle seat to settle in next to him in the back. "What—what're ya doin'?" he asked

"Satisfying Dream Me," you said, making yourself comfortable beside him. "You don't mind, do you?"

He looked surprised but shook his head.

You slipped your arm in underneath his, your palm landing flush against the bare skin of his forearm, and leaned your head on his shoulder. "How often do we get to immediately make a dream come true, right? Seems like I should seize the opportunity," you said, closing your eyes.

"Yeah, can't say I've made many of mine happen," Daryl drawled. "Err—or any really..."

You straightened up again and met his blue eyes, holding them steadily. "You should," you said, noting how his eyes seemed to flicker down to your lips. "I highly recommend it."

Prompt: "You were talking in your sleep."

[dearharriet]

ooh and for steve, maybe something where it's reader's first day at the job where steve works and he's helping them out or maybe just a meet cute before they land the job

ty babe! fem!r (wc: 553)

No one is up front when you step into Family Video, so you pretend to look at the tape display to feel less awkward. It’s right beside the counter, so whenever someone emerges from the back (if they do at all), they’ll see you right away.

You’re not entirely certain what the theme of the display is supposed to be. It has The Sound of Music and Xanadu, so you guess musicals, but then Ghostbusters throws that all the way out.

You’re so concentrated on the puzzle that you don’t notice that an employee comes out until he clears his throat.

When you look up, a flock of nerves lights up in your stomach. The man at the counter is the kind of handsome that you’re never prepared to see for the first time, effortless and confident.

“Hi,” he says, and it’s more flirt than greeting. He leans on the counter, fluffing up his hair and smiling, and you’re hooked.

“Hi.”

You drift hesitantly toward the counter, shifting your bag over your shoulder. Eyes flicking down, you catch sight of his name tag, Steve-o stickered onto the plain black rectangle.

“How can I help you?”

Returning your attention to his face, you purse your lips shyly.

“I, um—I was wondering if there was someone I could talk to about working here?”

The boy’s eyes widen a little bit, and he seems to put himself back together, in a way. He’s not professional, by any means, but he’s all business.

“Oh, yeah.” His brows pull together in faux seriousness. “Are you kidding? You’ll fit right in.”

You laugh. “I can’t tell if you really mean that or not.”

Steve’s smile warms. “I do. Sorry.”

Suddenly, you really hope you get the job here.

“Okay,” you nod. “So, um…”

You look around, to the door leading to the back room. Steve perks up.

“Oh, uh, yeah.” Forearms on the counter, he leans toward you, a good gossip-length away. “He’s not here, actually. But I can put in a good word for you, and tell him you’ll be back tomorrow?”

“Oh, sure,” you agree, a little breathless from his big eyes and sweet voice. “I’ll, um—I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”

You step back, and Steve almost looks like he’d crawl over the counter to follow you.

“Well hey—uh. Keith is gonna ask about your favorite movies, probably. He’s—” Steve glances around like he’s checking for eavesdroppers. “He’s kinda pretentious, yknow. Picky.”

You nod slowly.

“Is this his display? Cause I mean, these ones aren’t half bad.”

Grinning, Steve shakes his head.

“Nah, that’s mine, actually. Killer Soundtracks.”

“Ohh.”

With another pass through his hair, Steve pops over to the cart behind the counter, a picking through the tapes there for something. He returns to you with a stack of three.

“Keith’s a nerd, so, uh. Sci-fi is the way to go. These three don’t have to be your favorite, but he’s gonna bring ‘em up.” He slides them over to you. “On me. Just give ‘em back tomorrow, kay?”

Blinking, you take the stack between nimble fingers.

“Oh, are you sure?”

A girl appears from the back then, making a slow and obviously nosey gander back to the counter. Steve ignores her, still folded over the bench.

“‘Course, babe.” He winks a long-lashed eye. “Pretty privilege.”

+

thank u for reading! xx

masterlist

[oldhalloweentape]

🪨Venture (OW II) x (gn) reader ⛏️

(Reader High On Anesthesia Edition!)

(This picture’s not mine!)

(Back at it again lol… Love u guyssss <3)

- Out of anyone to be in charge of their S/O while they’re all loopy and just absolutely zooted, I think Venture would either be the best or the worst.

- Like one part of me sees them consoling you when you sob over something, and example could be:

- Missing home and they bring up something about it, something as minuscule as a chair, and you start crying about missing the chair… Even though you’ve voiced your distaste for it previous times before.

- Not having the same eye color as your pet rocks…. Rambling on and on about “HOW’RE THEY GONNA KNOW I’M THEIR PARENTTT??” While ugly sobbing all because they showed you a photo of them while trying to keep you happy and content while being attached to an IV drip and junk…

- Though I don’t see much consoling to be needed as your attention is probably very limited on one topic, bouncing from thing to thing. Like biting into a popsicle and then trying it spit it out because “It hurts your teeth”, only to try to bite into it again

- Or simply just digging into a burger or something if you’re allowed to— they try SO hard to not laugh at your antics.

- Then another part of me thinks they would lovingly tease and mess with you to get those over exaggerated facial expressions while your eyes are so unfocused, just in la la land as you compliment them with a unfocused and slurred speech, forgetting how to properly pronounce things like “gorgeous” and “cariño”.

- Definitely the type to film if and show it to you later to get some laughs and make your face flush in embarrassment as you see yourself slowly fall off the hospital bed because you want to go home, and angrily talk about being taken when the nurses put you back into bed.

- They’re a constant comfort throughout it, warranting sweetness from you that makes them laugh and reciprocate it, holding your hand all the while.

- I think they’re very on top of caring for you to make sure you don’t do anything that’d go against your healing process when the nurses and doctors go out to care for the other patients, honestly a real sweetheart and champ about it.

- Their patience is so strong when it comes to you, rambling on and on about stories about the funny stories about their crew at Wayfinders, letting you butt in and laugh about what you slowly blurt out when something they say catches your attention.

- Talking with you when you’re like this is so funny to them, you just blurt out whatever comes to mind and they’re like “Yeah!!! I can see that! :D” and like you’re talking about some stupid shit like your favorite animated couple do those awkward photo shoot photos were they’re like, in matching outfits and shit 😭

- Overall if you don’t like reading in full like I don’t, it’s 10/10 in how they care and behave around you when you’re like that, knowing that soon you’ll be home with them once more and not attached to various wires and IV drips, free to cuddle with them.

(Sorry if this is too short for your liking guys, I just got through finals and I’m absolutely mentally beat from that lol.)

[plutoccult]

THE WAY THINGS GO

pairing: jean kirstein x female reader

description: when your best friend jean finally got the girl of his dreams, your friendship soon faded into oblivion. as you reflect on what could’ve been, you figured it’s just the way things go.

word count: 2.1k

also available to read on my ao3 here

author’s note: fear not, people, i have returned to writing for my man. i believe the last thing i wrote for jean was my love mine all mine, and i’m sorry for neglecting him for so long! i didn’t want my account to just be a jean account and really wanted to be able to have people come to my blog for other characters, so i hyper focused on literally anyone else but him for AWHILE. but now i’m back for my man. also trying something i’ve seen other blogs do and have a couple songs that fit the one shot linked below, so if you enjoy that, please tell me because i would love to keep it going! and big thanks to @intorder for beta reading. love you twin 🫶

soundtrack: the way things go, promise

tags: @toorubobatea @intorder @femme-lune @jeanboyjean @cowgirlikets @okkoiktoru @todorokiskitten

taglist form here

all you ever wanted was for jean to be happy. even when it destroyed you inside as you aided him in his quest to woo mikasa ackerman, you figured that if it made him happy, then that’s all that should matter.

there was no point in dwelling about your pathetic feelings, he only ever saw you as a friend for all these years. you’d rather be friends than not be in his life at all, but when jean finally succeeded in his years long mission for the girl of his dreams, you didn’t think it would mean your friendship would fade with time. it hurt to simply just be friends, but it hurt even worse when it all turned into being nothing.

you found yourself pulling away from your mutual friends as a result, which hurt just as much as losing your best friend. you knew they would stick with him before they’d ever stick with you. they’d known him longer, after all. you felt as if you had to completely reinvent your life in the wake of jean’s absence. as much as you told yourself that change was okay and that you were happy with it, you continued to be haunted by the what if’s and what could’ve been.

there were always times where you thought about telling jean the truth before he finally landed a girlfriend, but the thought of rejection and losing him as a result plagued you to the very core. turns out there was no need to worry as he disappeared from your life anyway. sometimes you wondered if he ever thought about you. you knew you thought about jean plenty, but you had always placed him on the highest pedestal in the past.

his name felt foreign on your tongue now. whenever one of your friends brought jean up these days, you couldn’t find yourself able to say his name. you couldn’t even remember how to pronounce his last name. maybe it wouldn’t be this way had he thrown your friendship away, you liked to think.

you loved the scenario of jean showing up at your door one day and apologizing for everything, but that was merely a silly hope in your brain for a while. as the time spent without him in your life grew larger, you thought about such a preposterous idea less and less. with time, jean began to feel like a distant memory, and the pain hurt a little less.

your life became easier when you didn’t think about him. you found it funny how much lighter you felt when you didn’t feel the weight of unrequited love on your shoulders. you used to think of it as the size of a chip, but when you came to your senses, you realized you had been carrying a boulder. god knows how you managed to do it for so long.

it felt weird trying to pursue other men. you were thankful to have supportive friends who wanted the best for you, but didn’t want to push you too much if you weren’t ready for anything. regardless of that, you knew the only way you could be remotely ready is if you dove in head first. if you dipped your toes in the pool, you knew you’d shy away and run off. diving straight underwater felt easier.

even if you gave the dating scene a try, it wasn’t perfect, but at least you were living your life without the shackles of your feelings for jean chained to your ankles. besides, you had new stories to laugh about with your friends rather than you down in the dumps during your times with your girl friends. you were unrecognizable now, inside and out.

walking past certain places didn’t phase you like they used to. although, you find it funny now when you look back on how much strength it took for you to return to your favorite coffee shop. after depriving yourself of it for so long, you almost forgot how delicious it tasted, so at least there was that to be thankful for.

despite all the progress you’ve made, it turned out to be as easy as flicking a light switch to feel like your old self sometimes. from certain songs to inside jokes only you’d understand, it was quick for all those memories to come rushing back. but those reminders only helped you remember why you were in the position you were now.

however, one night on your way to the bus stop, you froze when you saw what looked like a familiar figure across the road. you stared at him for what felt like forever to figure out if it was exactly who you were thinking of, but when he walked across the crosswalk, it turned out to just be a random person. you were thankful it wasn’t actually jean. you wouldn’t know what to say to him after all this time anyway.

you quickly shook it off before continuing your walk. you wouldn’t let a stranger who happened to slightly resemble jean bother you that much. it would be silly after all this time. he shouldn’t matter to you anymore.

you sat down on the bench waiting for your bus to arrive. the wait felt like torture this time for some reason, and you couldn’t figure out why. it was the same bus stop you always waited at, around the same time each day you got off work, so why did this new feeling brew up inside of you?

“y/n?” oh. there’s why.

“jean.” you manage to speak, a lump you can’t seem to swallow forming in your throat.

there he stood. he looked just the same as when you last saw him. it wasn’t a surprise he kept up with the mullet look after all this time. it was your idea, actually. you told him girls liked it more when guys had hair that wasn’t too short or too long, just long enough to run their fingers through. it was a miracle he listened, really. you didn’t think the hairstyle change could make him look any more heavenly, but it did that times a million.

you find yourself unable to say anything else. do you ask how he is? is he still with mikasa? any wild changes in his life? there was so much you could say, but so much you couldn’t. there was no right way to go about it.

“it’s been a while, huh?” jean questioned, forcing a chuckle as he scratched the back of his neck. six months, three weeks, and five days, to be exact. you were so close to reaching that seven month mark. curse him for popping back up like this.

“indeed.” you reply as you look away. if you looked into his eyes for even a second, you swore you’d fold over. why did you still feel like this after all this time?

“how are you?” he asked. jean noticed you were avoiding his gaze. he knew it was his fault things were this way. “i won’t bite or anything, you know. horse bites hurt worse than stepping on a lego.”

you can’t help but laugh. curse him. that was funny, you have to give him that. you look up and see jean smiling, unbeknownst to you from the sound of your giggles. maybe it wouldn’t be that bad to have a quick catch up before your bus arrives.

“doing pretty good.” you say, shockingly not a total lie. past you would’ve said you were fine while screaming your head off on the inside. now, it was mostly calm and quiet in your mind.

“how’s mikasa?” you ask him. even if you felt good on the inside, you couldn’t help but address the elephant in the room. you had to know. otherwise, you’d still wonder from time to time.

“oh, um…” jean stumbled over his words. you raise an eyebrow. “we broke up. she kinda… dumped me.”

oh. dare you say victory? no, no. that was wrong. you can’t find the slightest bit of joy in this. you did want jean to be happy, even when it used to turn you inside out over and over. but back then you always had that borderline sinister part of you that wished he’d fumble. now it seemed like he did, but you had to know why.

“why’s that?” you question. “i thought it would’ve finally worked out.”

“i was pretty much just a placeholder.” he shrugged. “she didn’t really like, like me.”

you knew exactly what he meant. “eren?”

“yeah.” jean let out a sigh.

it was no secret mikasa was practically obsessed with eren since they were kids. everyone that knew her long enough thought she had grown out of it, especially since she got with jean, but now you know that wasn’t the case. she was simply waiting for eren to come to his senses.

you always waited for jean to come to his senses, but is that wait even worth it? is it worth finally getting what you want in the end despite all that turmoil? you wonder if mikasa finally felt that satisfaction you used to crave, or did she end up feeling a little dead inside after all that waiting? you realize now it’s not worth waiting for someone to realize you’re worth loving despite being there right in front of them for so long. you knew better now.

“well, i guess that’s just the way things go.” you look away. life had its way of being a comedian, you thought, but that’s okay. everything seems to happen for a reason.

“yeah, guess so.” jean frowned. seeing you now, he had finally come to his senses, but he was far too late. now jean would be willing to just be your friend again if it meant you were simply there. funny how things change.

“well.” you shrug, looking away as you spotted your bus down the road at a stoplight. just one more minute, you hoped. “my bus is about to show up.”

as the engine of your bus roared towards your stop, jean desperately tried to get one last word out of you while you were collecting your things. “wait!”

“hm?” you sling your bag over your shoulder. you weren’t sure what he could possibly say, but you hoped it was a goodbye. who knows if you’ll ever see jean again? as harsh as it seemed, you didn’t know if you wanted this to reoccur, if you were being completely honest.

“i just…” he paused. “maybe we could grab some coffee—”

“no.” you interrupt him. past you would have never cut him off like this, but you were that girl anymore. you felt pretty satisfied now, no more what if’s haunting you. this felt like good closure to your former self, a person you never ever wanted to revisit. you hated who you were back then.

“it’s a really bad idea if we do that.” you say as jean couldn’t seem to find any words to say right away after you shut him down with a no so quickly.

“yeah, i get it.” jean sighed. he knew he had countless chances, all run dry a long time ago.

finally, your bus was here. there was nothing else to say other than goodbye now. you didn’t feel any regrets anymore. if this were the last time you ever saw jean, you didn’t think you’d be all to upset about it. even if you never truly confessed to jean how you used to feel, there was no point now. you didn’t need to. besides, you assumed someone had to have told him anyway. you guessed that’s the only reason why he tried asking you out for coffee, knowing how much you liked him. it was a good thing you didn’t feel the same anymore.

“bye, jean.” you say before stepping onto the bus. “it was nice catching up.”

“ditto.” he forced a smile. jean waved you goodbye, you waving through the window by your seat.

as much as it would be nice to try a friendship with jean again, you didn’t want to risk falling back into your old habits. you liked who you were now, and you don’t think jean fit that picture. if there were ever room for him, maybe you could try, but for now you were saying no.

you realize now that your world didn’t end the day jean faded out of your life, just like your world didn’t end the day you got an f on a test, or even the day your favorite band member left the group. it all seemed like the end-all, be-all back then, but now you know it was just the ways things go.

© plutoccult / 310802. please do not copy, repost, modify, or translate any of my content in or outside of tumblr. reblogs are appreciated <3

[metalmonki]

Objection! Part 8

Rafael Barba x fem!Carisi!reader

6.1k word count

Summary All you wanted was to be a lawyer like your big brother Sonny. So what happens when you get a job working under the famous ADA Rafael Barba

slow-burn, colleague to friends to lovers

Authors Note: Drunks me has decide this chapters goodd to go blame the whiskey if its nots also blame the whiskey for any abd spellin and grammar drunk me is also not sorry for the cliffffhnager.

Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

The squad room was unusually still, the hum of fluorescent lights filling the silence like an ominous soundtrack. I sat at a desk, staring at my phone, willing it to buzz with something—anything. A message. A clue. A sign. My knee bounced restlessly under the desk, and my hands clenched into fists. Each passing second felt like a lifetime, every tick of the clock a painful reminder that Y/N was out there, alone, and I wasn’t doing enough to bring her back.

The air felt heavy, thick with tension that no one dared to break. Amanda was seated at her desk, her hands hovering over her keyboard as if typing might somehow help her forget the helplessness in the room. Finn leaned against the far wall, arms crossed, his expression unreadable but his eyes sharp. Olivia, always the calm in the storm, stood near her office, her arms folded as she scanned the room, likely calculating her next move. But it all felt distant to me. My focus was singular: the phone in front of me that refused to deliver answers.

Then the sound of heavy, purposeful footsteps storming into the room shattered the stillness like a thunderclap. Sonny.

His face was flushed with anger, a storm brewing in his eyes as he practically threw the door shut behind him, the loud slam making everyone flinch. He looked like he hadn’t slept in days—disheveled, tense, and radiating a kind of fury that no one wanted to be on the receiving end of.

“What the hell is wrong with all of you?” he shouted, his voice cracking under the weight of raw emotion. “Why are you just sitting around? Why aren’t you out there looking for my sister?”

Olivia stepped forward, her tone calm and steady as she tried to defuse the situation. “Carisi, we’re doing everything we can—”

But Sonny wasn’t having it. He cut her off, shaking his head furiously. “Don’t ‘Carisi’ me, Captain! My sister is out there with some psycho, and you’re all just standing here like it’s another day at the office!”

His eyes scanned the room wildly, seeking someone to lash out at, someone to blame. And then they landed on me.

“You,” he snarled, his voice dropping to a deadly edge as he pointed a trembling finger at me.

He crossed the room in quick strides, his fury like a physical force that slammed into me before his words even reached my ears.

“This is all your fault.”

I stood, meeting his gaze, my body tense. “Sonny,” I said, my voice low, a warning.

But he didn’t stop. His hands collided with my chest in a hard shove, forcing me to stumble back a step.

“If you’d done your damn job—if you hadn’t failed Anya—Y/N wouldn’t be in this mess!” he shouted, his voice raw with grief and fury. His words cut deeper than any blow, hitting a part of me I’d been trying to bury under determination and focus.

His chest was heaving, his hands balled into fists at his sides. The rest of the squad watched in stunned silence, no one daring to step in just yet.

“You were supposed to look after her, Barba! That was your job!” His voice cracked, tears glistening in his eyes as his anger started to morph into something more desperate.

“I know,” I said quietly, the weight of my guilt making it hard to speak louder.

But Sonny wasn’t done. He stepped closer, his face inches from mine, his voice dropping to a dangerous hiss.

“If Marco hurts even a hair on her head,” he said, his voice trembling with both rage and fear, “you’re a dead man, Barba. You hear me? A dead man.”

The silence that followed was suffocating. The room seemed to hold its breath, waiting for me to respond.

I couldn’t.

The guilt was already eating me alive, and Sonny’s words felt like a knife twisting deeper into an already festering wound. I looked down, unable to meet his gaze, my jaw clenched as I tried to keep my emotions in check. The weight of his blame—and my own—threatened to crush me.

Finally, Olivia stepped forward, her hand resting gently on Sonny’s shoulder. “Sonny,” she said softly, “we’re going to find her. But this isn’t helping.”

He shook her off, taking a shaky step back, his chest still heaving. “You better,” he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper before he turned and stormed out of the room, leaving an oppressive silence in his wake.

I stayed rooted to the spot, my fists clenched at my sides, my eyes fixed on the desk in front of me. The words echoed in my head—your fault, your fault, your fault.

Before I could find my voice, the door opened again, and two uniformed officers walked in, dragging a man between them. Marco. His smug expression was infuriating, even as his dishevelled appearance betrayed that he’d been through hell.

“He turned himself in downstairs,” one of the officers said.

“Get him in interrogation,” Olivia ordered, her voice sharp.

I watched as the officers dragged Marco into the interrogation room, his head held high, his movements casual as if he were walking into a meeting instead of a police station. My blood boiled with every step they took. From the other side of the two-way mirror, I stood frozen, watching every calculated move he made. Marco leaned back in his chair with the smugness of a man who believed he held all the cards, his posture lazy, his lips curled into an infuriating smirk.

Olivia and Finn entered the room, their expressions hard as steel. They were seasoned, unshakable, but even they seemed tense as they faced the man responsible for Y/N’s disappearance. Olivia wasted no time, her tone icy as she cut straight to the point.

“You want to tell us where she is?” she asked, each word like a dagger aimed to pierce his composure.

But Marco didn’t flinch. He didn’t cower or hesitate. Instead, his smirk widened, his dark eyes gleaming with something sinister. His gaze shifted past Olivia, locking on the two-way mirror. It was as if he could see through it, his expression a challenge aimed directly at me.

“I’m not talking to you,” he said with infuriating calm. “I’ll only talk to Barba.”

The words hung in the air like a bomb ready to detonate. My fists clenched so tightly at my sides that my nails bit into my palms. I felt the heat of my anger rising, my pulse pounding in my ears. Through the glass, Olivia turned to glance at me, her hesitation flickering in the subtle furrow of her brow.

Before she could make a decision, I acted on instinct. Without waiting for approval, I pushed the door open and stepped inside. The room felt stifling, the tension pressing down on me like a physical weight. Marco’s eyes lit up as he saw me, his smirk growing into a predatory grin.

“You want to talk to me?” I asked, my voice tight with barely contained rage. I stood at the table, my hands gripping the edge so hard I thought the metal might bend. “Fine. Let’s talk. Where is she?”

Marco leaned forward slightly, elbows resting on the table as if he were about to share a secret. “Oh, Rafael,” he drawled, his tone dripping with mockery. “Always so direct. Haven’t you learned by now? It’s never that simple.”

I slammed my hands down on the table, the sound reverberating through the room. The force rattled the chair Marco sat in, but he didn’t flinch. I leaned over him, my face inches from his, my fury barely leashed.

“Enough games!” I barked. “Tell me where she is!”

Marco’s composure didn’t waver. If anything, he seemed to enjoy my outburst, feeding off the anger radiating from me. He tilted his head like a teacher addressing a particularly slow student. “You like scavenger hunts, don’t you?” he asked, his voice deceptively light. “I left you some clues. Why don’t you put that sharp mind of yours to work?”

I wanted to wipe that smug look off his face, to force him to see the gravity of what he’d done. My voice rose, sharp and biting. “You’re wasting precious time!”

For the first time, his smirk faltered, a flicker of something unreadable passing through his eyes. He leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms, and his grin returned, but it was colder now, sharper.

“No, Rafael,” he said, his tone darkening. “You’re wasting time. The longer you stand here arguing with me, the more water fills her final hiding place.”

His words hit like a sledgehammer, each syllable echoing in my head. Water fills her final hiding place. The room seemed to tilt, my breath catching as the full weight of his threat sank in. Every second was precious. Every moment spent here was a moment closer to losing her.

“What did you say?” I demanded, my voice barely above a whisper, my hands trembling as they gripped the edge of the table.

“You heard me,” Marco said, his smirk returning, but his eyes were darker now, filled with cruel satisfaction. “If you want to save her, you’ll need to start with my things. They’re locked up downstairs. Tick tock, counselor.”

His taunting tone was the final straw. Without another word, I turned on my heel and stormed out of the room, my heart pounding like a drum. His laughter followed me, low and menacing, a ghostly echo that clung to me as I sprinted down the hall.

Every second mattered now, and I wouldn’t waste another.

The moment Marco mentioned Y/N’s life hanging in the balance, a fire ignited inside me. Every second wasted felt like a betrayal to her. My feet pounded against the linoleum floor as I sprinted toward the evidence lockup, Sonny just steps ahead of me. His desperation mirrored my own, his frantic pace proof of how much he cared for his sister.

By the time I reached the evidence room, Sonny was already there, his hands moving with frantic precision as he rifled through Marco’s belongings. His face was a storm of emotions—anger, fear, and determination all vying for control. He barely acknowledged my arrival, snatching up the evidence bag containing Marco’s personal items.

“We don’t have time for this,” Sonny muttered under his breath, more to himself than to me. Without another word, we turned and bolted back to the squad room.

The others barely had time to clear the desks before we dumped the contents of the bag onto one of them, sending papers and small objects scattering across the surface. The noise of the chaotic search filled the air—keys clinking against the desk, papers rustling, receipts crumpling under impatient hands. The tension was suffocating, the silence broken only by Sonny’s muttered curses as he rifled through the mess.

I tried to focus, my hands shaking slightly as I sifted through the random items: a worn leather wallet, a set of keys on a chain with a gaudy souvenir keyring, a handful of receipts, and a few crumpled scraps of paper. None of it made sense. None of it screamed “clue.” My pulse pounded in my ears, the seconds ticking by with cruel indifference.

Then Sonny froze, his hands stilling mid-motion. His eyes locked on the wallet, a look of realization dawning across his face. He yanked it open and pulled out a folded piece of paper tucked into one of the inner pockets.

“What is it?” I asked, my voice sharp with urgency as I leaned closer.

Sonny unfolded the note with shaky fingers, his eyes scanning the handwritten words. “It says, ‘Your next clue can be found where Y/N buys Rafael’s morning coffee.’”

For a moment, I stared at him, dumbfounded. “Where she buys my coffee? I—I don’t know where she goes.”

Sonny scoffed, frustration flashing across his face as he tossed the wallet onto the desk. “Of course you don’t. She’s been doing it for months, and you haven’t even noticed.”

The jab stung, but I didn’t have time to dwell on it. Sonny grabbed his coat, the movement abrupt and filled with purpose. “I do. She always gets it from the same place because they sell her favorite cannoli. Come on.”

Before I could respond, Sonny was already heading for the door, his pace quick and his movements sharp. Olivia grabbed her jacket, sparing a glance at me as she followed.

“Let’s move, Barba,” she said firmly, her tone leaving no room for hesitation.

I grabbed my own coat and hurried after them, sparing a brief glance back at the rest of the team. Amanda, Finn, and Nick were still in the squad room, their expressions a mixture of frustration and determination.

“Keep sweating him,” Olivia called over her shoulder as we left. “We’ll find her.”

The hallway outside felt colder, the sterile fluorescent lights casting harsh shadows. Sonny’s steps echoed ahead of us, his pace nearly a jog. The determination in his stride mirrored the fire burning in my chest. Wherever Marco’s sick game was leading us, I’d follow every step of the way—because failure wasn’t an option.

…

The tension in the car was suffocating as we sped toward the café, Sonny gripping the steering wheel like it was the only thing keeping him tethered to reality. His frustration bubbled over, his voice sharp and accusing as he vented.

“You don’t know where she buys your coffee? Seriously, Barba? She does it every day! You didn’t think to ask? To notice?”

I wanted to argue, to defend myself, but the truth stung too much. I stared out the window, ashamed. “I didn’t ask her to do it,” I muttered, though the words felt hollow.

“You didn’t have to,” Sonny snapped, his voice rising. “You’re just oblivious! That girl would go to the ends of the earth for you, and you wouldn’t even notice. And now, look where we are.”

His words hit like a gut punch, but I didn’t have the luxury of letting them sink in. Y/N’s life was at stake, and dwelling on my shortcomings wouldn’t help.

The car screeched to a halt in front of the café, and Sonny was out before it had fully stopped, slamming the door behind him. Olivia and I scrambled to catch up as he barged inside, holding Marco’s photo up like a badge.

“Have you seen this man?” Sonny demanded, his voice cutting through the hum of the café.

A barista behind the counter paused, her eyes flitting from the photo to me. “Are you Rafael Barba?” she asked, her tone uncertain.

I stepped forward, my throat tight. “Yes.”

Wordlessly, she handed me a coffee cup. My name was scrawled on the side in sharp, black letters, and beneath it, a note in Marco’s handwriting: “Enjoy this at the table closest to the window. Best view in the house.”

I stared at the cup, my stomach churning with unease. “Keep it,” I said, setting it firmly back on the counter. The thought of playing Marco’s twisted game made my skin crawl.

Sonny and Olivia were already at the window, scanning the street outside for anything out of place. I joined them, my eyes darting over the view: the passing cars, bustling shops, and scattered pedestrians. Then my gaze landed on the florist across the street, its display bursting with vivid blooms.

“It’s there,” I said, my voice firm with conviction.

Sonny frowned, skeptical. “How do you know?”

I pointed to the florist’s display. “Magnolias. Y/N’s favorite perfume is magnolia and honeysuckle. That florist has magnolias right out front. It has to be there.”

Sonny didn’t wait for further explanation, and neither did I. The three of us bolted across the street, dodging honking cars and shouted curses from drivers. The air was thick with the sweet scent of flowers as we reached the florist, and we immediately began combing through the arrangements.

I shoved aside bouquets of roses, daisies, and lilies, searching for something—anything—that stood out. Sonny did the same, muttering curses under his breath as petals flew in every direction.

“Cosa stai facendo?” a furious voice suddenly bellowed in Italian, startling all of us.

An elderly man emerged from the shop, his face red with anger as he gestured wildly at the mess we were making. Sonny stepped forward, his tone urgent as he switched to rapid Italian, showing the man Marco’s photo.

“Avete visto quest'uomo? È importante, ha mia sorella,” Sonny pleaded.

The man’s scowl deepened, but after a long pause, he disappeared back into the shop. Moments later, he returned, holding a small bouquet of magnolias and honeysuckles. Attached to the stems was a card.

Sonny snatched it and unfolded it quickly, his hands trembling. He read aloud, “Congratulations on getting this far. I promise the rest won’t be as easy. Your next clue requires some required reading. CSL.”

“CSL?” Sonny repeated, his voice rising with frustration. He crumpled the card in his fist. “What the hell does that mean? There’s gotta be hundreds of libraries and bookstores in the city! How are we supposed to figure out which one?”

“Marco’s clues have been tied to Y/N,” Olivia interjected calmly. “Think. What library or bookstore would be important to her?”

Sonny groaned, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t know! She loves reading, she’s been to dozens of places—”

My mind raced. Marco’s game wasn’t random. Every clue so far had been calculated, designed to taunt us and waste precious time. Suddenly, Sonny spoke again, his tone more focused.

“We should go to Y/N’s room,” he said. “Maybe there’s something there. A book, a receipt, anything that could lead us to a specific place.”

I hesitated. The thought of tearing apart her sanctuary, her private space, felt invasive. But there was no other option.

“Let’s go,” Olivia said, already moving toward the car.

We piled in, the silence heavy with unspoken fears as Sonny drove us back to Y/N’s apartment. Every second felt like an eternity, the weight of the clock ticking down pressing harder with each passing moment.

…

Sonny stormed into his apartment ahead of Olivia and me, his frustration palpable as he pushed the door open and headed straight for Y/N’s room. I followed, not knowing what to expect but feeling an ache in my chest I couldn’t shake.

The moment I stepped inside, I was surrounded by her. The faint scent of magnolia and honeysuckle lingered in the air, her favorite perfume. It was subtle but unmistakable, and it sent a pang through me. Her room was uniquely hers—organized chaos that told a story in every corner.

Three towering bookshelves lined one wall, each one crammed full of books. Some were neatly arranged; others had stacks leaning precariously or lying flat across the tops of rows. A mix of genres, from legal thrillers to battered fantasy paperbacks, filled the shelves, alongside small trinkets that made the space so undeniably Y/N.

There were figurines of owls, a tiny Eiffel Tower, and a vintage globe no bigger than my fist. A jar of sea glass sat next to a framed photo of her and Sonny, both grinning like they didn’t have a care in the world. I stopped to look at it for a moment, the joy on her face a stark contrast to the fear I knew she must be feeling now.

The desk was cluttered but purposeful—papers, notebooks, and pens scattered across the surface. A lamp with a floral shade cast a soft glow over the space. A coffee mug sat on the desk, still half-full and abandoned in haste.

The bed, a queen size with a simple gray comforter, was unmade, the covers tossed back as if she’d just rolled out of it. A stuffed animal—a well-loved bear with one eye missing—sat propped up on the pillows. It was the kind of detail that felt so personal, so intimate, that it made my throat tighten.

Sonny tore through the room with urgency, pulling books off shelves and flipping through them for hidden notes. He yanked open drawers in her desk, scattering pens and papers across the floor. “There has to be something,” he muttered, frustration evident in every motion.

Olivia joined him, opening the wardrobe and sifting through the neatly hung clothes. She checked pockets, rifled through shoeboxes tucked on the floor.

I moved to one of the bookshelves, running my fingers over the spines of the books. “She has so many,” I murmured, almost to myself.

“She loves to read,” Sonny said without looking up. “Always has. If you paid more attention, you’d know that.”

I didn’t respond. Instead, I crouched to check the lower shelves, trying not to think about how well Sonny knew her or how much I didn’t.

I opened the bedside table, finding a stack of journals and a flashlight. The journals were tempting, but I couldn’t bring myself to violate her privacy like that—not yet.

“Check the desk again,” Olivia said.

I stepped over to it, brushing my fingers over the coffee mug. It was still warm. She must have left it there this morning before this nightmare started.

Sonny cursed, pulling a pile of papers from the bottom shelf of the last bookcase. “There’s nothing here! No library card, no receipt, nothing.”

I leaned back against the desk, frustrated. The room was in disarray now, her things scattered everywhere, but we’d found nothing useful.

“I don’t know where she goes for books,” Sonny said, his voice breaking slightly.

“She has to have mentioned something,” Olivia said.

Before Sonny could respond, Olivia’s phone rang. Finn’s voice came through the speaker as she answered.

“Any luck on your end?” Finn asked.

“No,” Olivia admitted, running a hand through her hair. “We’ve torn her room apart and come up empty. You?”

Finn put her on speaker, and she repeated the clue. When Nick’s voice cut through, my stomach twisted.

“Centre Market Place,” he said. “Secondhand bookstore, below street level. Y/N took me there once to buy a present for Zara. She calls it her secret hideaway.”

“Of course, Little Italy our Nonna use to take her there all the time, it was their special place,  I can’t believe I forgot about that” For a brief moment joy flashed across Sonny’s face but was quickly replaced by determination.

Of course, Nick knew. He’d been there with her, shared that part of her world that I hadn’t.

“She never told me about it,” I said quietly, more to myself than anyone else.

Sonny glanced at me, his expression unreadable. “Well, now you know. Let’s go.”

I followed him out, the scent of magnolia and honeysuckle still clinging to me as we left her room in disarray. The thought of her stuck somewhere, terrified and waiting, pushed me forward. I wouldn’t stop until we found her.

…

Sonny drove like a man possessed, weaving through the dense New York traffic with a reckless precision that made my pulse hammer in my ears. The city blurred past in streaks of light and color as he pushed the car to its limits. My hand gripped the handle above the door tightly, knuckles white, but I said nothing. Sonny’s jaw was set, his focus unbreakable, and I knew better than to distract him. It wasn’t just the speed or the sharp turns that had my stomach in knots—it was the fear. The fear that every second slipping through our fingers might be one we couldn’t afford.

We skidded to a stop in front of the bookstore Nick had mentioned, the tires screeching loudly enough to draw annoyed looks from passersby. The building itself was understated, its entrance a narrow, weathered staircase descending into what looked like the basement of an old brownstone. The sign above the door was small and almost easy to miss, its hand-painted letters reading Rare Finds Books.

The moment we stepped inside, the air changed. It was warm and smelled of old paper and leather, with faint hints of coffee wafting from somewhere deeper in the maze-like shop. Shelves stretched in endless rows, towering over us, each crammed with books of all shapes and sizes. Some areas seemed impossibly tight, the shelves so close together that two people couldn’t pass through at the same time. Hidden alcoves featured overstuffed armchairs and small tables, inviting readers to lose themselves in a story. Despite its modest exterior, the store sprawled beneath the street above, an intricate labyrinth of literature.

“This place is a maze,” Olivia muttered, turning in a slow circle as her eyes scanned the towering shelves. “How are we supposed to find anything in here?”

Sonny’s expression was grim but determined. “CSL. It’s gotta be C.S. Lewis. Y/N loves his books—always has.”

His confidence spurred us into action. We split up without hesitation, scanning the shelves for anything bearing the familiar name. It didn’t take long to locate the section dedicated to C.S. Lewis. The shelves were packed with his works: The Chronicles of Narnia, Mere Christianity, The Screwtape Letters. Gold and silver lettering gleamed on the spines of hardcovers, while well-loved paperbacks showed the wear of countless readings.

Olivia and I dove in, pulling books from the shelves and flipping through their pages. I worked quickly, my fingers trembling slightly as I rifled through covers and dog-eared pages, searching for any sign of a clue. The tension in my chest grew with each empty book I replaced, the clock in my head ticking louder with every passing moment.

Then Sonny froze, his hand hovering over a single book on the shelf. “That Hideous Strength,” he murmured, pulling it down carefully.

I looked over at him. “Why that one?”

“It’s the last book in a trilogy Y/N’s been reading,” Sonny explained without looking up. “She’s been searching for this one for months. I’m sure of it.”

He opened the book, flipping through its pages with purpose. Midway through, a small slip of paper fluttered free, landing on the floor. Sonny snatched it up quickly, his breath hitching as he read it aloud.

“‘Eight clues to go, but will you make it in time? Your next clue will require a steep climb.’”

Olivia frowned, glancing around as though the next clue might be hidden in plain sight. “A steep climb? What does that mean?”

Sonny’s jaw tightened. “It means we don’t have time to waste. Let’s move.”

He dropped the book unceremoniously onto a nearby table and strode toward the door, muttering under his breath about steep climbs in the city. Olivia and I exchanged a quick glance before hurrying after him.

But I hesitated. My gaze drifted back to the book, its edges slightly frayed, the cover bearing the faint marks of countless hands. Something about it tugged at me. Without thinking, I picked it up and carried it to the counter.

“I’ll take this,” I said, pulling out my wallet.

The cashier, an older man with round glasses perched on his nose, smiled faintly as he rang it up. “Good choice,” he said. “Lewis always has a way of speaking to the soul.”

I nodded absently, tucking the book under my arm as I turned to leave. I didn’t know if we’d find Y/N in time, but I clung to the hope that we would. Christmas was only a few weeks away, and if she made it through this, I’d find a way to give her the book. It wasn’t much, but it was something—a small piece of normalcy in a nightmare that felt never-ending.

I jogged to catch up with Sonny and Olivia, the book pressed tightly to my chest like a talisman against the uncertainty ahead.

…

Back in the car, the atmosphere was tense, the air thick with frustration and urgency. Sonny gripped the steering wheel tightly, his knuckles white, as he and Olivia volleyed ideas back and forth about what "a steep climb" could mean. Their voices overlapped, each growing louder as their frustration mounted.

“Could it be the Empire State Building?” Olivia suggested, glancing at her phone as she pulled up a map. “It’s a climb, and it’s iconic.”

Sonny shook his head sharply. “Too public. Marco’s been keeping this quiet. It’s gotta be something personal to Y/N.”

I sat in the backseat, clutching the book I had bought for her, my mind racing. The clue had to mean something tied to Y/N—every step so far had been personal, connected to her routines, her likes, her life. Then it hit me.

“What if it’s the courthouse?” I said, my voice cutting through their argument.

Both of them turned to look at me, Sonny’s frown deepening. “The courthouse? Why would it be there?”

I leaned forward, gripping the back of the front seat. “She’s there almost every day. It’s a part of her routine. The steps could easily be considered a steep climb.”

Sonny’s eyes flicked to Olivia, annoyance flashing briefly in his expression, as if he was frustrated he hadn’t thought of it first. But then his jaw set, and he nodded. “Alright, let’s check it out.”

He hit the gas, the tires screeching as we sped toward the courthouse. The familiar city streets whipped past, the growing ache in my chest tightening with every block. Time felt like a physical weight pressing down on me, each second a reminder that Y/N could be slipping further away.

The moment we arrived, we were out of the car and sprinting toward the courthouse steps. The towering building loomed over us, its columns and grandeur as imposing as ever. We scaled the steps two at a time, the burn in my legs barely registering through the adrenaline coursing through me.

At the top, a man leaned against the railing, his clothes tattered, a worn backpack slung over his shoulder. He straightened the moment he saw us, his sharp eyes locking onto me.

“Hey!” he called, his voice rough but clear. “You Rafael Barba?”

I stepped forward, my chest heaving. “Yes. Did someone leave a message for me?”

The man nodded, digging into his pocket. From the folds of his jacket, he pulled out a crumpled $50 bill. “Some guy gave me this. Told me to wait here and say, ‘Water liberty seat.’”

“Water liberty seat?” Sonny repeated, his voice rising with frustration. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

The man shrugged, pocketing the bill and wandering off before we could press him for more information. Sonny threw up his hands in exasperation, pacing back and forth along the top step. “This is ridiculous! How the hell are we supposed to make sense of that?”

Olivia placed a calming hand on his shoulder. “Sonny, we’ll figure it out. We just have to stay focused.”

But I wasn’t paying attention to them. My mind was already working, the words tumbling over each other in my head like puzzle pieces sliding into place. Water liberty seat. It wasn’t random. It wasn’t a riddle—it was a description.

“Battery Park,” I said, my voice cutting through Sonny’s muttering.

Sonny stopped mid-pace, turning to face me. “What did you say?”

“It’s Battery Park,” I repeated, more firmly this time. “Y/N eats lunch there sometimes when she’s working late. She told me once she likes to sit where she can see the Statue of Liberty. ‘Water liberty seat’—it fits.”

Sonny blinked, his frustration giving way to dawning understanding. “That’s... yeah, that’s gotta be it.”

Olivia nodded, already heading for the car. “Then let’s move.”

We were running again, my legs burning as we pounded back down the courthouse steps. The sense of urgency clawed at me, each step feeling heavier, each second more precious.

As we raced through the streets toward Battery Park, I couldn’t shake the thought gnawing at the back of my mind: time was slipping through our fingers, and we couldn’t afford to lose another moment.

…

Sonny slammed on the brakes, bringing the car to a screeching halt in front of Battery Park. Before the engine had fully died, I was out of the car, my feet pounding against the pavement. My focus zeroed in on the bench, the one Y/N always sat on, the one I’d overlooked so many times before.

The bench faced the water, perfectly positioned to catch a view of the Statue of Liberty. I dropped to my knees beside it, ignoring the curious stares from passersby. My hands groped underneath, searching for something, anything, out of place. My fingers brushed against the edge of a crinkled paper bag, wedged in a spot so hidden it was almost invisible.

“Got it,” I muttered, tugging the bag free and sitting back on my heels. Olivia and Sonny crowded around me as I opened it. Inside was a neatly wrapped sandwich and a single folded piece of paper.

The note was maddeningly vague, written in Marco’s infuriatingly smug handwriting: “You know where to go.”

Sonny snatched the note from my hand, scanning the words as his frustration boiled over. “What the hell does that even mean?” he shouted, crumpling the note and hurling it into the trash along with the untouched sandwich. “This guy’s screwing with us! We’re running around the city while Y/N—” His voice broke off, and he turned away, pacing angrily along the sidewalk.

I sat on the bench, the weight of the situation pressing down on me like a tidal wave. My head dropped into my hands as I tried to piece together Marco’s twisted logic. He wouldn’t leave something vague without expecting me to figure it out. It wasn’t random; it was deliberate.

The steady rhythm of the waves caught my attention, pulling my gaze toward the water. For a moment, the chaos around me faded. The answer wasn’t in the note—it was in Marco’s mind. Every step of this game was a taunt, a deliberate jab at me. This wasn’t about Y/N, not really. She was the bait, a pawn in Marco’s personal vendetta.

I stood abruptly, the answer snapping into focus. “The DA’s office,” I said, turning to Olivia and Sonny. “It has to be the DA’s office.”

Sonny stopped pacing, his frustration giving way to determination. “Why the DA’s office?”

“Because this about Y/N,” I said, my voice steady despite the turmoil in my chest. “It’s about her. Every clue has been personal, tied to her life, her routine. The DA’s office is the center of it all—it’s where he wants me.”

Without hesitation, we piled back into the car. Sonny floored the gas, the tires screeching as we tore through the city streets. Inside the car, the tension was a living thing, suffocating and thick. The blare of horns and shouts of frustrated drivers barely registered over the pounding of my heart.

Sonny broke the silence, his knuckles tight on the steering wheel. “I’ve been thinking,” he said, his voice low but edged with anger. “Why Y/N? Why did Marco go after her? Why would he think she’s your weakness?”

His question hung in the air like a blade poised to strike. Olivia shifted uncomfortably in her seat, her eyes meeting mine in the rearview mirror. Her gaze was heavy with sympathy, but I looked away, unable to face it.

I knew why. We, Olivia and I, both did. But the words stuck in my throat, the admission too raw, too close to everything I had ignored for far too long. Y/N was targeted because of me—because I had let her into my life without considering the danger that came with it. Marco saw her as my weakness, the one way to make me pay for what he thought I’d done to him.

But I couldn’t say it. Not now. Not with Sonny’s anger simmering and Olivia’s quiet understanding pressing down on me like a weight I couldn’t lift.

“I don’t know,” I lied, my voice barely above a whisper.

The silence in the car was deafening after that. Sonny’s jaw tightened, and I could feel his frustration radiating off him, but he didn’t press further. Olivia glanced back at me again, her eyes soft with unspoken words, but I kept my gaze fixed out the window. The city blurred past, the familiar streets a reminder of how close we were—and how far Y/N still seemed.

As we approached the DA’s office, my chest tightened. The closer we got, the heavier the weight on my shoulders grew. Marco had dragged us here for a reason, and I could only pray we weren’t already too late.

Tag List!

@geeksareunique @pinkladydevotee @pumpkindwight @chriskevinevans

[sid-the-sandwich]

Obey me! Character Album Song Colours

Above is the template, You can put your album in the bottom right:

i tried my best to add songs for each colour that fit each boy, it was a bit difficult lol

Song names:

Red:

Lucifer - I Love You Like An Alcoholic

Mammon - Talk Too Much

Leviathan - Suki Suki Daisuki

Satan - Hayloft ii

Asmodeus - Literal Legand

Beelzebub - Inferno

Belphagor - Telephones

Orange:

Lucifer - Take Me To Church

Mammon - Partners in Crime

Leviathan - I am Falling for You

Satan - The Other Side of Paradise

Asmodeus - Cupid (Twin Version)

Beelzebub - Moral of the Story

Belphagor - If I Killed Someone for You

Yellow:

Lucifer - Dream a Little Dream of Me

Mammon - My Alcoholic Friends

Leviathan - I Cant Fix You

Satan - Ocean Eyes

Asmodeus - Circus

Beelzebub - GUY.EXE

Belphagor - Moonlight on the River

Green:

Lucifer - Hermit the Frog

Mammon - Cupid's Chokehold

Leviathan - Everyone Adores You (At Least I do)

Satan - Evil

Asmodeus - Primadonna

Beelzebub - Soldier, Poet, King

Belphagor - Home

Light Blue:

Lucifer - Sway

Mammon - The Adults Are Talking

Leviathan - Sports

Satan - CATS

Asmodeus - Toxic

Beelzebub - I Need a Hero (Shrek 2)

Belphagor - Control

Blue:

Lucifer - I Dont Smoke (Audiotree Live)

Mammon - Out of My League

Leviathan - Still With You

Satan - Duvet

Asmodeus - Young and Beautiful

Beelzebub - The Red Means I Love You

Belphagor - Our Word

Purple:

Lucifer - I Hate Everyone But You

Mammon - Bubble Gum

Leviathan - Jealousy

Satan - Majora's Mask soundtrack

Asmodeus - La La Land

Beelzebub - Cloud 9

Belphagor - Cigerette Duet

Pink:

Lucifer - Stalkers Tango

Mammon - IT Girl

Leviathan - Fire Drill

Satan - Animal

Asmodeus - Emo Boy

Beelzebub - Looking Out For You

Belphagor - Dead to Me

White:

Lucifer - EVERYTHING

Mammon - I Wanna Be Your Boyfriend

Leviathan - I Can't Handle Change

Satan - Happy Pills

Asmodeus - Touch You

Beelzebub - Birds on a Wire

Belphagor - Jobless Monday

Black:

Lucifer - Daddy Issues

Mammon - Cooler Than Me

Leviathan - Megalovania

Satan - Blackout Days

Asmodeus - Toxic (Pitch Perfect)

Beelzebub - Baby Hotline

Belphagor - Deathwish

Brown:

Lucifer - Its Been So Long

Mammon - Greed

Leviathan - Chamber of Reflection

Satan - All Eyes on Me

Asmodeus - Stars are Blind

Beelzebub - Cake by the Ocean

Belphagor - I Can't Decide

here is mine:

[issa-wasteland]

I watched Wicked (twice) as I’m so happy that it’s finally out and for people to have a fun time watching it from cinematography, costume design, special effects, the soundtrack itself ✨ and all. I’ve been waiting for months to see it after watching the slime tutorial of the musical and read the book. It’s even better to know that Act 2 is on the way for next year and there’s a few pictures for what’s to come from it.

I blame myself for watching and studying different actresses and actors singing and acting out the songs in Wicked Act 2. I’ve been and still is obsessing over some of the songs cause it’s just too good. My main problem is how I just switch out Fiyero and insert an y/n (lesbian). Like Im so deep in the trenches that I listen to “As long as you’re mine” with a butch x femme couple singing it or Elphaba x y/n (lesbian). As for the “FIYERO” note in “No Good Deed” I switch out the “o” and add in “a” or change the name completely while listening to the song.

I say this because I do have to realize it is Elphaba and Fiyero singing a song together and I don’t actually wrap my head around these two as a couple. To me, I don’t get enough of their development as a romantic couple, let alone as friends. The same kinda goes for Gelphie but they showed more of their bond in the musical and movie. It is up to people to see them as friends or more than friends but they didn’t see it themselves as more than friends. That is another topic for another day. The main point of the story that it is Elphaba story about how she branded as the wicked witch, and the topic of wickness being born or thrust upon based on circumstances. So, the romantic aspects of the story aren’t fleshed out onstage or in the book for that matter. I just hope in Act 2, Elphaba does fake her death and the ending of her and Fiyero leaving together is slightly changed because what was the point of Elphaba’s activism and protest for the Animals if she was just gonna run off with Fiyero?

Yes, Elphaba pushes it onto Glinda to set things right and let herself take the fall of being the wicked witch. Glinda ends up being the one in charge and tells what she wants to the citizens despite knowing the truth. It still doesn’t change automatically that the Animals won’t longer be oppressed and discriminated against. It’s like you take down a few people (Oz and Madam Morrible) but who’s to say another person is not working to continue fearmongering of a “bad guy” in Oz and all the land? I hope they do work on that in Act 2 because it doesn’t become much focus in the musical.

[flwrkisses]

masterlist.

.ೃ࿔* ENHYPEN - OT7. tiktoks with enhypen.

𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒ LEE HEESEUNG boyfriend! heeseung headcannon.

𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒ PARK JONGSEONG (JAY)

𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒ SIM JAEYUN (JAKE) boyfriend! jake headcannon. for the birthday boy. - fluff.

𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒ PARK SUNGHOON boyfriend! sunghoon headcannon. tiffany and co. - fluff.

𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒ KIM SEONWOO (SUNOO) boyfriend! sunoo headcannon.

𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒ YANG JUNGWON

𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒ NISHIMURA RIKI (NI-KI) boyfriend! ni-ki headcannon.

.ೃ࿔* TOMORROW X TOGETHER - OT5. txt having to say goodbye to their partner before tour. txt reacting to their partner having period cramps. txt comforting their partner after they've had a bad dream. txt reacting to their idol partner getting hurt. first kisses with txt. txt's reaction to their partner receiving hate comments. the soundtrack to your relationship with txt's choi line. txt's favorite things about their partner. how txt would comfort their partner who is having a stress induced anxiety attack. bringing txt home for christmas. how txt would make it up to their partner when they forget a date. txt's reaction to their partner snuggling up to them in their sleep. txt's reaction to you being afraid of thunder and lightning. txt getting jealous of their partner's plush. txt's reaction to their partner staining their pants with period blood. txt's reaction to their partner pouting at them when they're busy. txt having a partner who is short. txt doing a vlive with their partner. txt's reaction to their partner falling asleep on another member's shoulder. txt reacting to you freaking out about a bug. txt reacting to their partner falling asleep on their shoulder. txt taking care of their sick partner. halloween with txt. txt's reaction to their partner smoking. txt doing their partner's makeup for a video. txt reacting to you wanting to paint their nails.

𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒ CHOI YEONJUN boyfriend! choi yeonjun headcannon. yeonjun's love languages. truth or dare. - angst and fluff. i know, i love you. - angst and fluff.

𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒ CHOI SOOBIN boyfriend! choi soobin headcannon. boyfriend! soobin text messages. have i told you lately, i'm greatful you're mine. - fluff.

𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒ CHOI BEOMGYU boyfriend! choi beomgyu headcannon. land of the night. - fluff. sunflower. - angst & fluff.

𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒ KANG TAEHYUN boyfriend! kang taehyun headcannon. slow dancing in the dark - fluff.

𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒ HUENING KAI boyfriend! huening kai headcannon.

...

looking for other groups? check out the archive!

[alphabetboyluvr]

dance with the devil | jjk

REQUEST | jktaee3 on wp

VIBES | angst, royalty - bridgerton vibes, childhood friends to enemies to ?luvrs?

SOUNDTRACK | die for you - joji

HOLLY'S NOTE | (originally posted april 2023) so fun facts, i've never watched bridgerton. i actually put it on in the background as i was writing, which is where the lil line about being diamond comes from. i also do fuck all world-building in this, so just... use your imagination lol. i have no idea if this is like... correct? i dont read nor write period pieces and haven't done since school so.... go easy on me hahaha <33

also!! went for jeongguk instead of jungkook. feels more dramatic? time appropriate?? idk! mix of eng and Korean inspo for titles / locations!!

WORD COUNT | 2.5k

There are easily a hundred pairs of eyes on you as you walk into the ballroom. Maybe more. The room is grand, gilded in gold—grotesque in its display of wealth, but nothing new to you. You've been in a dozen rooms like this within the last month alone. More money than taste—but you can't buy class.

Despite the influx of unwelcome stares, there's just one you can actually feel. It comes from a pair of deep brown eyes in the corner of the room; a glass of red in one hand, the gloved fingers of your least favourite cousin in the other.

Dark and brooding, Jeon Jeongguk has no right to look at you in the way that he does. Duke of Busan, womaniser of more counties than you care to imagine, he's troubled wrapped up in a waistcoat and ruby-encrusted signet rings.

But you've always liked trouble. Shame.

The grip that Lord Min of Daegu has on your hand tightens. He can notice it too; Jeongguk's stare. Your satin gloves are silky against Lord Min's skin, and he must admit he enjoys being the focus of Jeon Jeongguk's envy. He thinks it's about time that the over-egotistical tyrant of hearts had his comeuppance.

"Remember," Lord Min whispers quietly to you as the crowd watches on. He's a trusted confidant; not suited for marriage. At least not with you. It's the county's worst-kept secret that he retires to the boudoir with Master Park each and every evening. No one at the ball is under any illusion that he is a suitor of yours. "You're a diamond in a mine of sapphires."

"Oh, but sapphires are far prettier than diamonds," you pout, voice dulcet as you scan the room. It's approaching your birthday, and time is running out. A suitor needs to be found, and found promptly. Too much time squandered on frivolous pursuits during your youth had prevented such a search.

It's something you're reminded of whenever your eyes catch Jeongguk's. Endless days spent under beating midsummer sunshine; burnt skin and freckled cheeks. Youth well-spent. Youth wasted.

"So? It matters not." Lord Min smiles. "Diamonds are far stronger. Sharper. And still just as exquisite as sapphires. Do not sell yourself short."

And by that, you know exactly what he implies: steer clear of the Duke of Busan.

It would be a fruitless endeavour. No good would come from it.

Years of your childhood had been spent in a whimsical land with him, full of castles and fairies, and witches and warlocks. Potions had been made in his garden using his mother's best perfumes and items stolen from the pantry; make-believe scenarios came to life in the forest between your family's estates.

Summers had been frittered away together by the sea; Winterton Manor the backdrop of your dreams, your hopes, your fears.

But the Duke did as Dukes so often do; embroiled himself in debauchery and distasteful pleasures.

You had watched on, bemused for the most part, and also intrigued by what compelled him.

Had you not been enough?

Grapevines whisper, and Jeongguk had spent far too much time frolicking in vineyards. Drunk on the delights of his youth, he'd forgotten that there would be life beyond the present.

It's a price he pays, now. A debt he hadn't realised he had racked up.

One that he's reminded of every single time you glance his way. He cannot afford a diamond.

Somehow, however, he can seem to afford the audacity of approaching you in the powder room towards the end of the evening.

You've had lacklustre dances with half a dozen bachelors, and they've all been uninspiring. Only two of them managed to make it through the waltz without stepping on your toes.

Time is running out.

And Jeongguk?

He's running in circles trying to get you out of his head.

Seems apt that he'd bump into you at some point.

Not like he sought you out. Not at all.

Not like he handed the maids by the staircase a few silver coins to divert other partygoers elsewhere, either. He wouldn't dream of doing such a thing.

The Duke of Busan knows you well.

Knows that it takes all of your might to not glance in his direction as he makes his presence known.

"Really?" He asks with a cocked brow and arrogant smirk, leaning against the doorframe. You're preening at your hair. Making sure your pins remain in place. "That's what you chose to wear? To a ball of this grandeur?"

You're wearing white. It's tight against your chest. Too tight. Pleated beneath the satin ribbon under your bust, encrusted with sequins and finished with lace. It's beautiful. Matches the white satin gloves that finish just above the crease of your elbow. You carry yourself with elegance.

In fact, your posture is so well-poised that Jeongguk is the only attendee of the ball who has noticed the split in your skirt. When stood, it is hidden by the pleats. When dancing, it is camouflaged by the lace. When you lift your skirt to meander up the stairs? He becomes reacquainted with the curve of your ankle. The split is no larger than the length of a letter inviting him to tea, but it feels overwhelmingly large.

As far as the Duke is concerned, you may as well be wearing lingerie.

You smooth the skirt of your dress and consider rearranging your tits just to give him something to stare at. You decide against it. Think he would enjoy it far too much.

"Oh precisely," you respond with an equally arrogant grin, before turning to face him. You're haughty in the way you position your body, almost as if you're trying to entice him. "Haven't you heard? I've a suitor to find."

He scoffs. "And you think dressing like a whore is going to find you one of any value?"

A whore.

Very rich of him, you think, as if the entire party doesn't know what he gets up to in the dark. And the daylight. And just about any time of the day, actually.

What they really don't know?

That he used to get up to it with you.

"Absolutely not," you smile. Your father might want you married off, but there's no suitor here for you. Not tonight. If you have to bring a man home, it unquestionably has to be one that your father won't approve of. "That's the point—although, now I come to think of it—this dress did seem to find you, didn't it, Jeongguk?"

He stays quiet for a moment. He doesn't enjoy you being correct. It's part of the reason you bicker so much. You're always correct.

"White really isn't your colour," he tells you with an ambivalent shrug. "We both know that."

Innocence. Purity. Virginity.

For once, The Duke is correct. It really isn't your colour.

Humorous, how he's dressed head to toe in black. Perhaps you should be, too.

"And green isn't yours," you tease, walking towards him. "Yet you seemed to be full of it when I entered the ballroom with the Lord of Daegu."

He remains silent. Can sense you have more to declare.

"Moreover," you hum, proving him right as you pause beside him, "as I'm sure you're well aware, Duke, it's the colour beneath the dress that counts."

"And what is beneath the dress?" Jeongguk husks, not looking over towards you. He doesn't want to let you know how much you affect him, still.

"The same lace that greeted you last summer in the stables of Winterton Manor."

Red. Fuck.

His favourite.

"Tell me, Duke," you tease. He deserves it, you think. "Does the Viscount of Gwangju like red?"

"Hoseok?" Jeongguk scoffs, addressing him by name, not title. The lack of respect shown by the young Duke is asinine, truly. A show of his immaturity. "Despises it."

Truthfully, he has no idea of Viscount of Gwangju's preferences.

"Good," you taunt. "I'm enthralled by the prospect of a challenge."

Jeongguk will be damned if you end up betrothed to the Viscount of fucking Gwangju.

"He concedes easily," he says. This is another lie. He just doesn't want to give you any further ideas. "Do not expect a challenge. Anticipate disappointment."

"Oh, but Duke," you laugh and it's so exquisite that he thinks he might just melt. "Disappointment has always been your forte, has it not?"

During the balls of recent years, where Jeongguk would only ever offer his hand to other women, and never you? Yes. Disappointing.

In the smoky parlours, where he laughs and jokes with the other gentlemen, about which debutantes are simply destined to become spinsters? Oh, incredibly disappointing.

In the drawing room adjacent to his bedroom, while you had waited beneath his sheets for his return, as he was agreeing to court your cousin instead of you? Perhaps the most disappointing he'd ever been.

It's been a year—the worst of your life.

"You've made your bed, Duke. Sleep in it."

"I've tried," he says sternly. He doesn't want to joke any more. Doesn't want to flirt. "I cannot bear to sleep in it without you."

You shake your head. Such a devil.

"You seem well rested enough."

"It's a facade."

And you find yourself quite annoyed; frustrated by his apparent disdain for a life he chose. A destiny brought upon you both by his inability to be discreet—though you're unaware of this caveat.

You see, everyone does know of his reputation, but he always kept your pursuits of passion hidden. Private. To the world, you're pristine.

"What do you require, Duke? My pity?"

He knows he doesn't deserve it.

"I require nothing of you."

"Then seek me out no longer. Do not pursue what you cannot commandeer, Jeongguk."

It's a lesson he would have done well to learn many moons ago; one remembered by you even if it was lost on him.

And yet, at quarter past twelve, as he loosens the black satin bow of his collar in his bedroom, Jeongguk pauses.

A knock has just sounded at his door. His chambermaid, he assumes, just checking on the fire—or maybe Master Park's chambermaid, instead (though Jeongguk's business with Master Park's staff isn't ever entirely 'business').

Regretfully, he thinks it could be Lord Kim Namjoon of Ilsan, here to reprimand him for his manners. His mentor in all fashions, Namjoon is always the first to discipline the young Duke following his nights of debauchery—though all things considered, he feels he's been quite well-behaved tonight.

He sighs as he rests a palm flat against his bedpost, and bellows, "Enter."

A sternness settles on his brows, hard and uncompromising, as he turns to the door. There's a dishevelled nature to his hair, undone and falling slightly over his dark eyes. His loosened collar and unbuttoned waistcoat only aid to make him look even more rugged.

He's marred in vulnerability, though. His pretty pink lips rest ajar, as his eyes fall on the intruder of his thoughts.

Amusing, you think, how the bedroom is where he domineers best, and yet is always where he seems the most unfortified.

Perhaps he hadn't been lying about his facade.

Perhaps he really doesn't sleep well without you.

Perhaps—just perhaps—you might indulge him one last time.

"Tell me, Duke"— You walk into his room and close the door behind you, eyes not leaving his —"Do any of them compare?"

He watches you strut past him and crawl on the luxe quilt on his bed. Oh, how you've missed it.

"Any of who?"

"The maids," you shrug. You aren't naive. You know exactly what he does, and who he does it with. "Master Park's maids? Surely Lord Kim's, too. And the working girls. The debutantes—need I go on?"

"No," he says, watching as you loosen your heels and kick them to the floor. They land with a thud. He knows the noise will have echoed throughout the house. "You needn't."

The truth of the matter is that his escapades are well-known amongst high society. He has a reputation, which is why his courtship with your cousin was forced upon him.

You're surely too good for him, but he's of too much value to remain without an heir.

A marriage is needed for him before the end of the year. His father says so.

Contrarily, your father would never agree to the Duke of Busan proclaiming you as his Dutchess.

Jeongguk knows this, for he's already asked.

Of course he has.

Last spring. Kept his mother's ring in his pocket just in case. A proposal was planned for early summer, before your trip to Paris.

He thought perhaps he would go with you—a pre-honeymoon, maybe—but your father had refused his request for your hand, and who was Jeongguk to go against the will of the man who had raised you?

Jeongguk won't burden you with this knowledge. Your life will be far more fruitful if you remain silently furious with him for never giving you what you deserved.

"And do they?" You enquire once more. unaware of his anguish. "Do they compare?"

Jeongguk leans down to his boots. Unties his laces and stands on his heels to remove them. He kicks them away. Is just as undressed as you are. Equal.

"Do you think my bed would be empty right now if they did?"

"It isn't empty," you tease.

"No," he acknowledges. "But it has been. It's been empty for months."

"Months?"

You don't believe him.

"I've had an empty bed since I returned from Winterton last summer," he declares.

"Though your hands have been full?" You sneer, painfully reminded of the way he'd held the hand of another woman in the ballroom that evening. You've had to bear witness to it on multiple occasions by now. It never gets any easier. Your fucking cousin, of all people.

"Pay no mind to the fact my hands have not been empty in ballrooms," he speaks quietly, shame washing over his features. Yes, it would be far more desirable if you were to be furious with him, but he wants to alleviate the hurt that you are quite clearly encumbered with. "As I said, it's a facade."

"Why? What are you hiding, Duke?"

As if you don't know—he laments—that I'm utterly besotted with you.

He glances away from you to watch the fire as it crackles in his hearth. He wonders if it would be less painful to tear his heart from his chest and roast it in the flames, than it is to be in love with you.

"I hide nothing from you," he says with a broad smile as he turns to face you once more. Jeongguk is adept at falsifying his discretions. "But I am without at a dance."

You grin, now. "A dance?"

"I'd love one," he smirks as he holds out his hand. He twists your words almost as elegantly as he used to twist you around on empty ballroom floors; just two of you after the parties had died down and the revellers had hung up their dancing shoes.

He strides to the side of the bed. Satisfaction sinks into his features when your gloved hand slips into his palm. He pulls you up. Pulls you closer. Rests a hand upon your waist and positions himself perfectly for you. He was raised a gentleman after all, even if grew up to be a rogue.

"May I have this dance?" He says quietly, only needing to whisper.

You're so close you probably count the beat of his heart.

One, two.

Does anyone dance better than I do?

Three, four.

Do you lose your breath when someone else draws you closer?

Five, six.

I could dance with you forever.

Seven, eight.

Would that be agreeable?

Nine, ten.

As if you can read his thoughts, you just nod.

"You may."

[unboundprompts]

Hi! Thank you so much for your wonderful blog! Could you please do prompts from songs that feel ✨orange✨? Some energetic, bright, optimistic lines would be so nice! Thank you in advance!

Orange Prompts

-> writing prompts from songs that feel orange. feel free to edit as you see fit.

"I don't know the way, but I know that I belong out here on this journey that I never thought I'd make." - The Color of the Sky by Thrice

"Welcome to the land of the permanent sun where the flowers are melted and the future is fun." - The Valley of The Pagans (feat. Beck) by Gorillas, Beck

"You are the bullet in my head." - Spiderhead by Cage The Elephant

"You are my radio. Turn you up when I feel low. You are the soundtrack to all I know. You are the rock to my roll." - Rock To My Roll by Anarbor

"How can I help it if I like the way she makes me feel?" - Break Up Every Night by The Chainsmokers

"You know I talk too much. Honey, come put your lips on mine, and shut me up." - Talk too Much by COIN

"Who needs money when love is gold." - Rock To My Roll by Anarbor

"I turn each day into night, I stand there waiting for you." - Natives by blink-182

"Let's go paint the town on our way home." - Razzmatazz by I DONT KNOW HOW BUT THEY FOUND ME

'You're only going up from here." - Bummerland by AJR

"Well, he talks like an angel, but he looks like me." - Brazil by Declan McKenna

"Lovin' you's a recipe for disaster, hurts like hell but damn it's fuckin' heavenly." - Crazy by Makeout

"If I'm feeling right, I'll go out tonight and meet some strangers like me." - High Low by The Unlikely Candidates

"Tell me where we were and what we did last night." - Suicide Sunday by The Friday Night Boys

"You got to know that I meant it when I said that I liked you." - Ghost by Confetti

"In your head, I'm a junkie for your desperate love." - My Heart Needs to Breathe by The Faim

"Nothing has changed, he is the same." - He Is The Same by Jon Bellion

"I've found love in the strangest place." - Problems by Mother Mother

"We'll be the envy of the gods above." - The Cult of Dionysus by The Orion Experience, ORION, Linda XO

"Loving is easy when everything's perfect. Please don't change a single little thing for me." - Loving is Easy by Rex Orange County, Benny Sings

"What keeps me sane is you." - Paradise by Bear Ghost

"Well, maybe I'm a mess. And maybe I'm depressed. And maybe I'll just find out who I am, and I don't like who it is. And I'm a wreck. I do it for the sex. And maybe I gotta realize this is as good as it gets." - Good As It Gets by Little Hurt

[palmtreesx3]

GET OFF - The V-Card

The V-Card

<- Prologue || Next ->

Series Masterlist

Get in the mood for this installment:

Series Playlist

The V-Card Mood Board

Summary: (3.7k) Everyone is nervous for their first time, right? Steve and Robin are busy tackling a lot of their firsts - first day in the shop, first week in the city, first friends (or something) in the city. It’s all a little intimidating and both quickly find that old habits die hard - particularly for Steve. It’s going to take more than just a new city to really give these two a new life. Be sure to read the Prologue before reading! 

Warnings: it's a sex shop, guys - so it's generally just NSFW 18+. In this AU Hawkins is weird and cannon events happen to some extent, but not to all familiar characters. If they are present in Chicago for this AU, they have no ties to Hawkins. Absent parents, excessive drinking, poor coping mechanisms, M/F hookups and implied/light smut, mentions of female oral, our boy on his King Steve shit, one night stands, careless hookups, and a coming out. 

Shout out to @loveshotzz for the blatant Whatta Man nod in this chapter. IYKYK. 

Chicago: That Saturday, 1993

The sun was beating in through the front apartment window as Steve sat on the couch with a can of High Life, taking a breather from all of the unpacking. He has been hyper-focused all weekend on getting settled and unpacked - a complete 180° from Robin's settling in approach, which looked more like making sure her sheets were on her bed and simply ignoring the rest of the boxes stacked up inside her doorway than anything else. 

For a split second Steve considered picking up the phone and calling home just to check in, let his parents know they've got their bearings and are all safe in the city, but as that thought settled, he realized how absolutely ridiculous it was. They never cared where he was and what he was doing before, so there's no reason for them to actually start caring now that he's finally gone. Worming it's way deep in his brain another thought occurs to him - if he just would have packed up and left, it probably would have taken them months to even realize it. 

Plus, the second he talks to either one of them he knows they're going to ask about a job, and he's not quite ready for how that conversation might go. Yeah Dad, we're all set, start at the sex shop 10am on Monday!  He shakes his head and laughs to himself at the thought before throwing his head back letting the beer, just starting to warm and lose its crispness, run down his throat. It's tasting a bit bitter now…and Steve can relate. 

Pulling him from his self-deprecating thoughts, Robin swings open the door with the sound of jangling key chains being shaken like maracas, the soundtrack to her grand entrance. 

"Got your keeeeys, Dingus! It's officially official now!" She tosses the key ring over to Steve, who has his eyebrows raised as they land about 5 ft to his left on the other side of the couch. 

"Nice one, Robs. Maybe one day we'll find you some aim."

"Long shot, buddy. Better chance of me confidently shooting my shot with Stevie Nicks than that ever happening. But good on you for thinking I have any potential whatsoever."

"S'wat friends are for, Robbie." He grins at her sideways before leaning over to pick up his new set of keys. "The hell is this?" He asks, dangling the keys up in the air. 

Hopping up and down with incredibly youthful glee, Robin beams at the boy and exclaims "A TAMAGOTCHI. I got one too. Orange for you. Blue for me. Pretty sure even if we could have a pet in this building it wouldn't end well, so I got us these!" 

"This is ridiculous. I can't believe you got us a toy." Robin slips on the couch nestled up close to Steve, pressing the button on both to initiate their hatching as she presses her shoulder into his side. A beat of silence goes by before he throws his arm over her shoulders and says, "Show me how to do it, Robs. Can't wait for mine to outlive yours." He smiles down at her. 

"Eat shit. Whoever kills theirs first buys the other a drink."

The twinkling sound signaling the hatching of each of their eggs echoes through the apartment as they eye up their pets and glare back at one another.

"Oh, it's on. Never been more confident about a deal before in my life."

"Speaking of drinks … " Robin muses. " Whaddya wanna do tonight? "

Steve's not quite sure how long it's going to take for him to get used to the sheer quantity of people here in Chicago. He's pretty sure there's as many people in this club right now than there is in the whole of Hawkins. 

When they arrived, Steve was feeling a lot. It was overwhelming and nothing in Hawkins flashed so bright and shook so loud… except maybe the 4th of July Carnival and their fireworks on the outskirts of town, but that was nothing compared to this. 

One drink in and finding a place to hunker down near the bar at a table, he felt more comfortable. He was enjoying Robin's running commentary while she spent the better part of an hour people-watching, still passively feeling the heat radiating off of the dance floor, when he decided to switch over from the lukewarm beers to a sweet and sharp whiskey and soda. 

Three drinks in and sufficiently loose, Robin is fluttering around the edges of the bar and the dance floor - now making friends with some of the people she's been eying up all night with her inhibitions down as far as Steve has ever seen them. He's drunkenly grinning at his friend, happy to see a kind of social side of her that feels new, even though he knows the roots of it have been buried deep inside her for her whole life, interwoven through her heart and her brain stem, just waiting for permission to come out and untangle itself. 

"Steve! STEVE!" She shouts over the thumping bass of the music, wildly gesturing for him to come over to where she now stands, in the center of a group of people who look friendly enough for him to oblige. 

Four drinks in and now the group is laughing, hollering and leaning in hard to catch an ounce of what the others are saying. Steve's eyes are squinting trying hard to read their new friends lips as they try and converse over shots and the loud music in the dark. Turns out Robin found a whole group of people that live in the same building as they do and, as one does when they're absolutely shit faced, they all immediately began talking about how they're all new best friends, curling arms around one another's necks and slurring "I love you guys" over drinks number five and six. 

Steve is feeling a familiar twinge. It's not his fault that he has no idea that there are ways to make friends other than people pleasing or trauma bonding. Now relishing in the ease of finding city-friends over an open drink and the immediacy of acceptance that comes with puffing out his peacock feathers and playing the delicate social hierarchy game he mastered in his teens, he barely even notices that he's dusting off his King Steve party tricks. The stress of the last few years that have him wound up tighter than a watch melt away as the coy and flirty remarks start flowing like a waterfall and the locker room talk comes back like riding a bike. 

Six drinks down the hatch and Robin can't find Steve. Any other time, and Robin would be absolutely losing all the marbles in her basket worrying over Steve. Especially in this new city. She'd assume he was dead. That someone finally came to whisk him away and lock him up for all the things that he's not supposed to know. Sure, Steve can handle things. He's definitely the most capable person she knows and he quite literally raised himself, and saved himself more than once, but none of that even matters right now because she's just swaying to the beat of Janet Jackson pumping through the club speakers with her new soulmates who live on the top floor. 

Instead Steve is at the bar, queuing up drink number seven for him and drink number who-knows-what for the absolutely smoking girl at his side named Melissa, who apparently lives just up the staircase, too. She's reminded him three times so far that he can just call her Missy, but not without leaning in close, just next to his ear to make sure he hears just how sweet she sounds. And boy does he want to know more about how sweet she sounds. 

Steve's eager hands are hooked in her belt loops, the girl's bright red tube top riding up her stomach as she pushes herself into him. Her fingers are tangling through his sweaty hair and his are ghosting over her collarbone and down her arm. His lips are on hers before drink seven is even delivered, so he caps off his night with her tongue down his throat instead. 

He has no clue what time it is as they tumble through the apartment door, Melissa Missy still giggling at his orange Tamagotchi keychain as his lips chase hers once again and the door slams shut. Perfect. Robin's not home, he thinks. Completely forgetting he was there at the club with her in the first place, he tugs at the girls long blond hair at the roots, runs his hands over her glistening and glittered shoulders and shoves her down into his plush comforter the second they reach his bedroom. 

He's so caught up in this big-city hottie he managed to get into his bed on his first weekend in town, he doesn't hear Robin come in the door, nor does he notice her clanging around the kitchen to chug down a few huge glasses of water in hopes of being at least a little conscious tomorrow morning. Robin, however, does notice Steve clanging around the bedroom, especially after she hears a deep and throaty moan that is unmistakably female. 

"Ha. Fuck yeah, Stevie. Losing that Windy City V-Card." She says quietly while wobbling to her room. Meanwhile, Steve's got his head buried deep under the sheets, blindly grasping at the girl's perky tits while he lavishes at the thought of this being the kind of opportunities that present themselves here in Chicago. His first time in this big sprawling city made him feel like he was on top of the world. 

The confident bubble he found himself in all night popped when he later woke to feel the warm summer breeze from the open window tickling his now exposed back, comforter slipping down and exposing his hips along with a peek of his ass to the girl who was accidentally pulling it off as she stood up from the bed. Unabashedly naked, she stretches her arms in a yawn, Steve rolls to peek at the clock. 4:36am. "Where are you off to?" his raspy, sleep laden voice cuts the silence as she finds herself caught gathering her things. "Are you try'n't sneak out on me?" He mumbles with a smile, thinking he's being flirty and cute. 

"That's exactly what I'm doing, hon." She winks, as she snags her cheeky hot pink thong off the back of his desk chair and shoves it in her pocket on the way out the bedroom door. "I'll be quiet on my way out. Don't worry. Maybe I'll see ya around. Maybe I won't. It was fun though. You were a KING with that tongue so I wouldn't be opposed…but it's honestly unlikely." 

And Steve is there, left tangled and alone and feeling stone cold sober after that dose of honesty from Melissa, left wondering if this is how all the girls back in Hawkins felt after he dipped out on them. Having his fun but knowing it wouldn't go any further than that. Getting off under Skull Rock, in the back of his BMW, atop their pink frilly pillows with their parents in the room next door - all hanging on to the hope of just a little more - the potential of being needed and wanted and good enough for the likes of King Steve, but waking up empty and disposable instead. If he didn't already hate himself before, he definitely does now. 

"Sooooo." Robin sings out, while twirling her spoon through her milky cereal. "We gonna talk about that little Bedroom Rodeo last night or what?" 

"Robin. Please. It's too early for this." He presses his palms into his eyes, trying to stave off the pulsing just beyond his sinuses. "and did you just say Bedroom Rodeo? The fuck?"

"Well, yeah. Bedroom Rodeo… ya know. Crushing the buns? Two person pushups? Horizontal Tango? Please tell me with all that racket you at least got off?" 

"Ew Rob, where the fuck are you coming up with these?" He looks at her as she shrugs, slurping the last of her sweet cereal milk straight from the bowl as she did it. "This may be shocking, but… probably the most annoying thing you've ever said. Crushing the buns? Are you serious?" he says as he walks over and face plants dramatically onto the couch. 

Rolling over to his back and sliding on the wire rims of the glasses he never lets anyone but Robin see him in, the apartment comes into focus and so does his best friend, sitting at the counter grinning from ear to ear while tugging up her eyebrows to him in a taunt, chomping on her cereal and looking far to comfortable in his own goddamn yellow sweatshirt. His hand jutting out abruptly and gesturing to her morning attire with a furrowed brow and a questioning look, she says absolutely nothing in response. "Are you serious? Get your own clothes!"

"Eh, yours was already unpacked and my box of cozy stuff is on the bottom. I didn't get to it yet." She says casually. 

“Yeah okay. The box pile huh? Well don’t think we’re going to be sharing everything around here.” 

To which he watches her lips curl up in a Cheshire cat grin as she responds “Aw man, not even the ladies?” 

He hates this already. 

"Need some coffee, tiger? Probably a little sluggish after testing out that mattress."

His groan was loud at that one. "ROBIN! "

"Fine, I'll leave you alone…for now. But we're gonna talk about some rules for when we're Jamming the Clam later over a smoke, ya got me? Roommate ground rules at all." She winked as she sauntered down the hallway to her room. 

"Sure Robbie. Whatever you want. But do me a favor… if you're so goddamn chipper this morning maybe you can unpack a freaking box from that mega-pile. Won't be bringing back some hot piece to your room to Jam the Clam in that fuckin' disaster zone!" He shouts at her back. 

Throwing up a peace sign and swaying her hips a little more (albeit awkwardly) she makes a show of acknowledging her friends request before shutting her bedroom door behind her. 

"Robin, right? And… " Murray looks at him up and down.

"Steve" the boy scowls. 

"Wow. Okay then. Cheer up Rico Suave. Robin! You didn't tell me your friend had this much charisma when you stopped by last week."

Murray Bauman is the manager of The Hideout. Maybe he owns the place, it's not entirely clear, but what is immediately crystal is that Murray is always ready to dish it out. "Alright then, welcome to The Hideout. I wanted to name it Murray's Pleasure Emporium but that got shot down pretty fuckin fast by my partner, so it is what it is."

With his salt-and-pepper hair, neatly groomed yet slightly disheveled, and a well-maintained beard framing his jawline, Murray's appearance hints at a man who has seen his fair share of adventures. Despite his brash exterior it's quickly clear that Murray effortlessly creates a comfortable atmosphere, so it's no wonder he finds himself successful in an environment where he can push boundaries and help others to explore their fantasies and fulfill their desires.

"So here's how this is gonna work. You two are gonna work retail. You'll need to run the register, oversee the displays, manage the inventory and help the customers. Peace-a cake, right?" He spurts off while simultaneously counting the money in the register for the day. 

Robin and Steve spit out a garbled acknowledgement while Murray looks back and forth between the two. "Red, did you say you two were... roommates?"

"Uh, yeah. Why?"

Eyes knocking back and forth to look between the two friends, Steve can already see where this is going. Been there a thousand times. So he cuts off Murray's silent analysis and offers up the information needed to satisfy his curiosity. "No, we aren't dating. And .. ah ah. Wait." He cuts him off as Murray starts to open his mouth, ready to counter back "...and NO, before you go there, we aren't fucking either. Didn't happen. Won't happen. Platonic."

"With a capital P." Robin finishes the end of Steve's sentence. "We can't promise we won't be weird, but we can one hundred percent promise there will not be any lovers quarreling with us."

"Well alright then. Loud and clear." Murray says in response. He claps his hands loudly and rubs them together before continuing on with his sex shop monologue. 

"Back to business, then. Covered the retail bits - Ah, yeah here we go. As you can see, the shop offers an extensive selection of adult toys, lingerie for the ladies…or the men, sensual massage oils - a personal favorite - and other products that cater to a wide range of tastes and sexual preferences. I like the good stuff, because I have taste. So that's what I sell. I also like to have all the latest shit because I'm progressive. Call me sexually innovative, if you will. If it's new, we're gonna have it."

Steve and Robin follow dutifully behind him taking it all in. Robin's eyes are as wide as saucers and she's distracted by all of the things she does not yet understand as Murray continues to spout out information on products, business and his own personal sexual philosophies. Steve poked her shoulder and she grimaces, and returns to planet earth to hear the rest of Murray's great new hire speech. 

"The people who come in here are not sex freaks. You got that? They're normal people. Don't gotta be some pervert to want to get off and feel good, so if you can't be open-minded and nonjudgmental then you might as well not even clock in after this. Got it?"

Both nod in agreement and the edges of Murray's lips curl up in a smirk. "Perfect. Come." He directs as he walks to the register and it's adjoining display case where a wide array of colorful dildos stand spread out for selection. 

"Not that it's a job requirement or anything but, I'm assuming if you're wanting to work here and my pleasure palace your… ahem.. sufficiently experienced. Cause you're gonna need to sell the product if you get my drift. People have way more questions than you could imagine. Just yesterday I had to tell a kid that Anal Beads are, in fact, for your anus..."

Robin's mouth is aghast. Steve looks around again taking it all in and he finally laughs at Murray, who is looking them over as if he can't believe these two kids standing here in front of him know anything about the kind of sex he sells. "Listen, Murray. I didn't set out to move here to this city and work in a shop full of dildos. Surprisingly, my incredibly inexperienced friend here signed me up against my will to hawk condoms like morning coffee. Robin doesn't know shit - sorry Robs, but you don't." She shrugs her shoulders, looking at Murray and nods in agreement at her friends words. "And while I'm gonna go out on a limb and say that I'm not what you might consider all that adventurous, I've got more notches than I'm proud of and unlike most guys I can find a girl's clit. SO… I'd appreciate it if you stopped talking to me like this is 6th grade health class and let us get to work."

"I have very little to add." Robin says, "and after what I heard the other night, I'll attest to what Steve says. He sure can make 'em moan." 

Murray stands behind the counter looking Steve up and down. He lets out a loud, boisterous laugh into the still air of the shop before he starts again "Well then, Steve. I can respect that. I think you both are going to be a mess, but I can work with it... So let's hop to it."

Beyond the merchandise, the pair learn that Murray hosts educational workshops and events at The Hideout for its patrons and the community and often has specials and promos going inside for shoppers. After the first half of their day, it's clear that Murray runs a business that he is proud of and his customers are loyal. Steve decides that when people ask, he's just going to tell them he works retail. Because he in fact… does. 

As their training winds down, Murray comes out of his back office carrying a giant tray and welding some embarrassing dance moves as he delivers it delicately to the counter. "Hey, hey, hey assholes! Before we head out, we have to set up this display for tomorrow. Let's rock and roll my friends!" Robin scans the contents of the tray curiously, not so sure how all of the items fit together to make anything that resembles a display. "Uh, okay but like… what is it?" She says. 

Steve snickers as he takes in the tray full of cupcakes, bananas and condoms. "Well Robbie, despite what it looks like I don't think Murray is letting us set up snack time. I'm not sure what the cupcakes are for, but these here look like they're to practice getting the condoms on the banana."

"Bingo! Rico Suave gets the points! We're doing a condom demo tomorrow, so he's right on that. What he's wrong about though, is that the cupcakes ARE for a snack." Murray fist bumps Steve and turns to see Robin's gears turning at maximum speed. 

“What’s the matter, first time, Red?” Murray spits out, through a wide gleaming smile that Steve swears sparkles in the light, like some goddamn cartoon. 

"Actually.. ." She draws out "while I don't have the clit-finding prowess of my friend Steve here, I only strive to one day be able to eat pussy as well as he apparently can. So yes, this is my first time sliding on a condom, thank you very much." 

Murray nods and his grin never ceases, although now there's a bit more approval and admiration than taunt behind it. "C'mon then, lemme show you how to slide these on like a fuckin pro." 

Steve is beaming watching his friend speak so casually about it. Murray really is good at what he does and making people feel comfortable, or this city really is just what Robin needs, either way, the way Murray doesn't skip a beat and starts teaching Robin the art of rolling on a condom like it's just any old day makes Steve think about how many wild things they're going to get into here. And honestly it's all fine, because there’s a first time for everything.

Divider by @firefly-graphics

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