#on the other hand High Ground 3 lost points because

[littleapplle]

21:21.

cw.: nothing, really. my own interpretation of rafayel's behavior so... maybe a bit ooc. my man is a puzzle I can't seem to figure out. I wrote this in an hour, so it's ass. I just really wanted to post something. sorry </3 not proofread. 754 w.

There's something therapeutic about watching Rafayel paint, you think. He doesn't mention it, but you know it is a privilege to see him this vulnerable in his studio.

"I painted it just because. There is no meaning behind it.” Liar. Painting was his way to silently curse and scream at the world for decimating his people for its own sadistic fun and curiosity. Careful brushstrokes bloom into oceanic sceneries that any collector would judge as disturbing. The side of his thumb and pinky, often used for sharp details, stained with crimson dye, stain the tormented sea with dramatic strokes, diluted in the dark waters.

It's a way to find grounding once again, to keep him on his feet. For so long, Rafayel has been terrified of vulnerability and intimacy, scared he'd show fragility to someone and that they'd leave once more like an unending cycle of torture.

So when Thomas visits the studio without warning, trying to catch Rafayel off-guard, Rafayel drops his brush and refuses to keep painting until he's gone. It comes off as pettiness but as an artist, Rafayel is on an eternal performance with himself and his trauma.

You were quick to learn that nothing with Rafayel is superficial. You need time and patience to read him. Like he's a poem of tragic words and complex sentences you have to reread a thousand times to maybe get a glimpse of what the author thought.

He comes off as petty because he's scared. He uses drama as the pitiful curtains of his stage, trying to hide the shameful mess that lies behind them in the dark.

And as scared as he is, terrified that you might dissolve into sea foam and leave him for a millenia, he lets you in. Finally, the person he has been devoted to for as long as he can remember sees him through an act he doesn't even notice putting up with. A fragile mask falls but it isn't terrifying, it's relieving. Like a breath he has been holding on and never noticed.

Rafayel lets you see every facade of his. You enter his studio whenever you feel like it, the spare key with a cute and red round fish keychain is always on your bag. Just in case. You have free access to any of his sketchbooks and messy art pieces around every corner of his home. Rafayel burns with passion, he wants to go slow, take his time until he's confident that you're here to stay, but he just can't. What's the point of hiding something from you?

While he's busy, you spend hours going through old journals with yellowed pages, pinching the slightly sticky papers with certain carefulness. You find multiple frustrated sketches and scribbles of a face that looks like a forgotten version of you. Like writing in sand that has been washed off by the waves.

Lost canvases hidden near the tall, dark wooden shelves of his living room have forgotten faces he no longer finds strength to repaint or finish. Other old and dusty books hold poems and letters in a language you can't really understand.

Rafayel grows used to having you around while he's painting and working. Raw emotions don't scare him so much. He humors you and lets you pose for him. He chats with you while he sits on his silly and tall stool. He lets you observe him while he feels bare.

And by your spot on his big couch, you watch the process carefully.

At first, he stretches. Cracking every joint he can remember and stretching his arms as high as he can. Then, with his current sketchbook in hand, he draws a quick, much bigger and messier version of his sketch on the raw canvas.

It's beautiful. He works gracefully, hypnotizing you with every movement. Quick and thin brushstrokes settle and he covers it with a thin layer of a light shade of paint.

He knows you stare but it isn't uncomfortable. Warmth fills his heart at the thought of having your eyes, heart and mind concentrated on him and his passion only.

And on your side, you feel honored to have him let you in so kindly, allowing you to see him naked and raw, filled with emotion.

A week later, you find the same canvas still leaning on his wall where he started it. Adorned with shiny pearls and lovely colors, this time, he gets your every feature right.

He could write unending words of worship about you, fill a thousand books with his love and cover hundreds of canvases with fervor but at the very corner of this one he just writes “Adoration, Rafayel Qi.” in elegant black lines.

⊹ ࣪reblogs are very much appreciated. thank you for reading!(*´▽`*)

[shellsarepretty]

siblings or dating?

Walker Scobell x fem!Reader

warnings: none :)

there isn't much romantic stuff in this, and its more platonic than anything.

summary: tv insiders interview when they reflect on their chemistry tests, but you as annabeth <3

ps, there's an extra scene at the bottom

You and Walker were best friends for years. Ever since you landed the role of Emma Reed, Adam Reed's twin sister, you two were inseparable.

You Facetimed so much when Walker was away filming Secret Headquarters, and he Facetimed you when you filmed You're So Not Invited to My Bat Mitzvah.

You guys were glued at the hip, and fans loved your platonic relationship. That was until you got the role of Annabeth Chase and Walker got the role of Percy Jackson.

Fans looked at your history with each other and didn't see you guys platonically, no, they saw you two romantically.

--

It was a TV insiders interview, and you, Walker, and Aryan sat on three different chairs in a straight line. You were on the left, Walker was in the middle, and Aryan was on the right.

"I'd love to hear the story of your first chemistry test as a trio. Like what scene did you read? Did you know in your gut that day that it would be the three of you? Like, tell me about that experience. How did it go?" The interviewer asked.

You thought for a second. "Well, me and Walker already had a few chemistry reads before Aryan like- came with us. We had two Grover's before Aryan." You said, using your hands to speak.

Walker nodded. "Yeah, it was actually really funny because Y/n and I were maybe the same height, and the Aryan was just," he put his hand up high, showing how tall Aryan was. "He was so much taller than us."

At that, Aryan just laughed and nodded.

"Yeah, I was trying to talk to Aryan, but I had to look up to him, and then I talked to Walker and I didn't have to do anything." You laughed, and Walker and Aryan joined in quickly as well.

"Sorry Aryan," you started.

"Oh no.." the brunette boy whispered.

"But my favorite chemistry test was probably the first one I ever did with Walker because I didn't tell him that I was auditioning for Annabeth." You giggled, and Walker started laughing.

"Yeah, I remember that. I was so excited because I just got off of the Zoom with Rick Riordan, and I called Y/n," he made a phone with his hand and put it up to his ear. "and I was like, Y/n! Guess what? I got the role!" Y/n laughed at this, copying his motions.

"Woah Walker! You got Percy?" You said through your hand.

"Yeah! I got to go bye!"Walker said, hanging up his hand-phone. You both laughed.

"I knew that I kept wanting to audition for Annabeth, but I thought it might be weird because I played Emma Reed in the Adam Project, and Walker played my twin brother, and it was like a sibling relationship. But now, it's kinda like a love interest, so I didn't tell him." You cracked your knuckles.

"So I was the last Annabeth that he had to read with, and Walker was so tired because he had like five Annabeths before me-" Walker cut you off quietly.

"Seven." He said.

You and Aryan both looked at him. "Seven?" both of you shouted. Walker nodded.

"Seven." He repeated.

"Woah.." you trailed off. Then you remembered what you were talking about. "Anyways, uhm.. Mr. Riordan called my name, and I wish you could've seen Walker's face." You laughed. Walker started laughing too.

"I honestly was so surprised and so happy, because I was so tired. Like I heard her name, and I turned around so quick." He said.

"I know! I'm honestly surprised that you didn't see me before that." You laughed.

"Well, I stood up to go meet with him up in the middle of the room, and we just started laughing. Like- I looked at him, and he started to like to do this," you pointed to Walker's face as he made the trying so hard to not laugh face he usually has on. "and I completely lost it. We both started dying, like rolling on the ground." You continued, Walker and Aryan laughing too.

"There were so many people watching us just laugh, and I was so embarrassed afterward. We also did the thing where you stop laughing, but then the other person starts doing their slate, and you start laughing again." You said.

"It was so bad, but we finally pulled ourselves together, and the scene actually went great." Walker nodded.

"The first scene we did together was the consensus song, in the bus." You laughed and started to clap your hands together. "That's when I had to act like Walker and Aryan were crazy, which honestly wasn't that hard." You teased.

"Hey!" Both of the boys protested. You laughed.

"Kidding..not really." You said, and they laughed harder.

"Uhm, When we did our first chemistry read together, I was honestly so scared because the laughing part wasn't that great for Y/n's chances, no offense." Walker laughed. Y/n shook her head smiling.

"None taken."

"And Mr. Riordan and the directors put Me with other Annabeths for like- I don't know, a week maybe?" Walker tilted his head to the side. "But then, they invited Y/n back, and we didn't laugh, and we actually did great. We did the scene where she like- finds me in the bathroom, and like is kinda mean to me, and I just beat up Clarise and her friends. And right after that, I knew that she was going to be Annabeth. She nailed it perfectly." Walker finished.

"Aww, thank you!" You grinned at him.

"But for Aryan," Walker stated, teasing. "When he auditioned, I knew that he was not the one. I could just feel it in my gut like-" Walker sighed deeply through his nose.

"I was super lucky because I was the like- the only person that tried out for Grover. Like no one else submitted for him." Walker started to laugh, but he tried to hide it.

"E-exactly.." The blonde started to chuckle.

"They only auditioned me, that's the only reason why I'm here." Aryan laughed.

"The only reason is crazy." You laughed. Walker and Aryan joined you.

"No, but both of them were amazing. Like, it was perfect casting." Walker admitted, smiling at both of you.

"I'm just thinking about how tired Walker was when we did our chemistry read for all of us." Aryan put in. You all nodded your heads.

"Once again, I had like- four Annabeth's, and eleven Grovers before Aryan," Walker said.

"I thought it was seven!" Aryan exclaimed. Walker shook his head.

"No, it was eleven."

"Yeah, he's right. I'm counting them right now, wow that's actually insane." You said, glancing at Walker. Aryan laughed and shook his head.

"I just vividly remember Walker after all three of us did the chemistry read together. They were like- 'Okay, so we're going to switch it up a bit' and Walker was like, 'That wasn't it?'

"They had to have a lot of tin cans to provide." The interviewer laughed.

Everyone else smiled.

"Well, I would love for you to imagine yourselves in maybe one or two years and imagine that you've just finished filming the final series of Percy Jackson. What would you want to say to your future self?" The interviewer asked. The trio thought for a bit.

"How'd you get so jacked?" Walker said. Aryan and you started laughing, and Aryan hastily agreed.

"Uhm, don't mess it up?" Aryan said, but it came out more like a question.

"Yeah." Walker nodded his head.

"I would ask her if she was able to take home stuff from set." You said, laughing to yourself.

"Honestly, that's so true." Aryan chuckled.

"I would ask about, like- everything that we did wrong, and just not do those things." Walker smiled. You laughed.

"In all seriousness, as I would just say good job, and you made it!" You smiled softly, a little embarrassed that you got sappy.

"That's a sweet one." The interviewer chuckled.

"I would ask when we are going to film Hero's of Olympus next," Walker admitted.

"Yes!" You agreed with him.

"That's a really good one." Aryan nodded. You smiled.

"Alright, that's all for now. Thank you guys!" Your interviewer called out, and the Zoom meeting clicked off the screen.

-()-()-()-()-()-()-()-()-()-()-()-()-()-()-()-()-()-()-()-()-()-()-()-()-()-()-()-()

!EXTRA SCENE!

You and Walker settled in your chairs, smiling and laughing as the cameras started to click on. You, Walker, and Ryan were doing the TODAY show interview.

The background behind you guys was purple and sparkly with Ryan Reynolds, Walker Scobell, and Y/n L/n, in bold white letters.

The first interviewer was Hoda, a brunette, and the second was Jenna, a blonde.

"And we are..rolling!" The person behind the camera yelled out.

"Okay, we all know the name of Ryan Reynolds who starred in dozens of films in Hollywood." Jenna led on. "But two names that you may not know, but you will know very soon, Walker Scobell and Y/n L/n." Jenna finished.

"Yeah, they both are the best. Walker and Y/n are teaming up with Ryan for their very first movie, Netflix's The Adam Project." Hoda starts.

"Ryan plays a time-traveling pilot that crash lands in 2022, and teams up with his younger self, played by Walker, and his non-deceased twin sister, played by Y/n. Let's take a look." Hoda finishes.

"And, cut!" the cameraman turns off the camera, waiting for the movie clip to play.

Y/n saw the scene being played out on the little computer placed in front of her and Walker.

"Is that why you haven't talked to her in a while? Because we gave her a fistful of crap?" Walker as Adam said through the screen.

Ryan as Older Adam sighed and his frustration was evident on his face. He huffed and turned around to look at Adam (Walker). He ran a hand through his hair.

"No..you know what, Adam? Let me tell you something. We don't talk to Emma because she's dead!" Ryan screamed at Walker. Adam's (Walker's) face changed from smugness to horror.

His eyes got glossy, and he stumbled out a "W-What?"

Ryan's face changed to soft sympathy. "Look, she died in a car crash when she was a teenager. I-I'm sorry. I'll try to change it. I'll try to change the future." Older Adam (Ryan) put on the jacket with determination.

"I will change the future." Older Adam (Ryan) finished. Adam (Walker) sniffled and wiped his eyes.

The camera panned through the house to you opening the glass backdoor. You as Emma Reed walked inside, your hands stuffed into your hoodie.

"Adam? And, well, Adam? I went for a walk, sorry if I was gone long! Are you guys here?" Emma (You) called out.

Just then, the cameras were back on, and you rubbed Walker's back lightly, knowing that this was a hard scene for all of you guys.

"That was truly amazing, wow," Hoda said first. Jenna nodded with her.

"Aww, do they do that a lot?" Jenna asked, her eyes going to you and Walker, as he smiled at you softly, letting you know that he was alright.

Ryan laughed. "Yeah. Y/n as Emma is actually the reason why I want to have a daughter." He said, giving you a cheeky grin. You smiled back at the older man and looked towards the host.

"I can see that. Emma is such a sweet girl." Hoda agreed.

"Woah, okay back on track. So, Walker and Y/n, this is your first movie and it's with Ryan Reynolds. Kay, was it at all intimidating working with this guy, or not?" Hoda asked. Walker spoke up first.

"Uhh, not at all." Your blonde friend said. You laughed at Ryan's somewhat hurt facial expression.

"Really?" Jenna and Hoda said in sync.

"Not at all? How come?" They said immediately after. You were laughing to yourself.

"Careful," Ryan warned Walker.

This caused everyone in the room to start laughing, and Hoda even bent over, clutching her sides. You and Walker shared a couple of big smiles.

"-It was, He was a lot taller than I thought he would be," Walker said, nervously switching the leg he had resting on his other. You nodded.

"Usually actors are short," Jenna said. You laughed, giving Walker a playful nudge with your shoulder. Your costar laughed and nudged you right back.

"I wore four-inch hightops on set." Ryan laughed.

"Yes, he was just wearing heels, Walker." You said, laughing. Ryan reached forward and ruffled your hair in an affectionate way.

Walker laughed.

"Was he funny? Did he make you laugh?" Jenna asked. You answered this one.

"He was only funny when he didn't want to be funny. Whenever he tried to make a joke, nobody laughed." You said, leaning away from Ryan as he tried to ruffle your hair again.

Jenna and Hoda laughed along with Walker. "Yeah, I don't think I've ever laughed at one of his jokes," Walker said, smiling. Hoda leaned forward in her seat as Jenna started laughing again.

"Oh my god, you are the same person!" Hoda said, smiling. You started giggling to yourself. "Who are you people?" Hoda finished.

"One time-" You started. But, Jenna didn't hear you. She cut you off, making you shrink a bit in your seat. Walker noticed.

"You guys are so cute!" Jenna gushed. Walker nodded politely before turning to you.

"Thanks. Y/n, what were you about to say?" He asked you, giving you a small smile. You sat up straighter in your chair and smiled back at him.

He noticed! You giggled to yourself.

"Oh! I was going to say that one time I got confused, and I accidentally called Ryan Walker instead of Ryan." You laughed.

"No way!" Hoda laughed. You nodded.

"I can confirm that that happened," Ryan said from beside you. Everyone laughed for a quick second.

"Wow, finding these two kids is perfect! Walker is perfect for you, and Y/n portrays Emma's kindness and innocence. They are the perfect kids to cast. How did you find these two if they've never been in a movie before? How did this come to be?" Hoda asked.

Ryan breathed. "We read hundreds and hundreds of kids, all different ages, starting with the umbilical cord right up to a hundred and twelve years old." Honda laughed at that.

"I feel like we read all of the kids on Earth. And then one day, we saw this tape of this kid named Walker Scobell, and the second sentence out of his mouth, I looked at Shawn Leevy and said that's our guy." Ryan said, clicking his tongue. Hoda and Jenna gasped.

"You knew it, just like that?" Hoda asked. You laughed.

"Just like that." Ryan agreed. You smiled at Walker, giving him a toothy grin.

"Wow, I feel so left out." You laughed, half joking. Ryan gave you a look.

"I was just getting to you kid, don't worry." He said. He then took a deep breath.

"Once we got our Adam, we knew that we needed to get an Emma that like- works best with Walker. So, we sent out the call to any eleven to thirteen-year-old girls that would like to try out for Emma Reed. We got I think-" Ryan paused to think. "maybe five-fifty (550) uhh, audition tapes. So, Shawn was originally just going to look at them himself, until I suggested that Walker should take a look first." Jenna nodded, facing Walker.

"Did you really pick out the ones you liked most?" She asked him. Walker sheepishly smiled.

"Yeah, I think I cut down to maybe one-thirty (130) tapes? It honestly took a long time, but it was worth it." Walker said, grinning at you.

"Then, we watched all of the ones that Walker picked out, and Shawn took a look at Y/n, and he smiled. He said, 'She's gotta get a callback and a read with Walker.' So we narrowed it down to maybe fifty Emma's. Then we invited Y/n to a callback on Zoom, and we asked her to sing. " Ryan said, laughing. You covered your face embarrassingly with your hands, remembering your song choice. "she started to sing a song from High School Musical: The Musical: The Series. Let's actually pull up the clip." Ryan said, turning to the camera. The camera guy nodded and cut it. Then, Y/n saw her face on the laptop in front of her, the screen recording of the Zoom playing full blast.

"Oh no.." she whispered. "I can't look."

"So, Y/n, we were wondering if you could sing a little song for us. We were thinking of having Emma in our show sing, but you don't have to if you aren't comfortable." Shawn asked Y/n's video self.

"Uhh, no it's okay. Just acapella?" You asked.

"Yes, that would be lovely,'' Shawn replied. Little Y/n took a deep breath before she started to sing.

"I think of you when the wind blows, I see your face almost everywhere, sure maybe Salt Lake is not close, but I'm still breathin' you in the air. Because the best part is knowin' there's somethin' in my dreams that always makes me smile, it's you," Your video self did a small riff, and Honda and Jenna both murmured their admiration.

"The best part is knowin' there's someone in my life that makes it all worthwhile, it's you. When I don't know what to do, no I'm never givin' up, never givin' up on you. Baby, there's no need to be blue, because the best part is knowin' there something in my life that always makes me smile, it's you." Y/n in the video did another riff, and it sounded a lot better.

"The best part is knowin' there's someone in my life that makes it all worthwhile, it's you, it's you." Y/n stopped singing, smiling happily. The video cut back on, and you didn't notice that everyone was staring at you until you looked up from the video.

"Woah," you said, noticing everyone's gaze. At that, everyone started to laugh.

"Well, that was amazing. when you heard that, did you know like you did with Walker?" Jenna asked Ryan. The male smiled and nodded.

"Shawn honestly didn't expect Y/n to sing because this was her first real audition, but when he heard this girl open her mouth, he was texting me. Hey, I think we found Emma. Let's get Y/n L/n to read with Walker. So, a few weeks later, Y/n walked through these big metal doors, and she saw Walker for the first time. And she then gave him a smile and a wave, and I think that convinced the rest of the crew that she was our Emma." Ryan finished, giving Y/n's shoulder a little squeeze.

"That's incredible, to hear that, and to think that both of you wanted to act, and continue to act," Jenna started. Y/n and Walker both nodded their heads wordlessly.

"W-was it kinda crazy that you two got this role?" Jenna finished. Walker nodded.

"It was..it was uhh, I-I was expecting a lot of littler roles, and to then work myself up to the big ones, because I originally wanted to be an Avenger." You laughed at that, and so did Hoda and Jenna.

"This is pretty close to an Avenger. Basically the same thing." You said to him. Walker smiled and nodded at you.

"Basically." He agreed.

"Have you ever seen Deadpool?" Hoda asked Walker, a knowing smile on her face. You started laughing uncontrollably.

"Walker! Oh my god, that's the funniest thing I've heard in my life." You said, gasping for air.

"Uhh, what's that?" Walker said, feigning innocence. That just made you laugh harder.

"I think Y/n knows, care to tell us?" Hoda said, smiling. You nodded and opened your lips to talk, but then Walker slapped his left hand over your mouth, muffling your words.

This just made everyone but you and Walker die of laughter. Finally, Ryan calmed down to speak.

"Come on bud, answer her seriously." The older male said. Walker looked around for a second, making sure that his hand was still on your mouth. You pushed it away, laughing softly.

"I-I uh," Walker stuttered.

"What? you're not allowed to say?" Honda cut in.

"I-I don't know what you're talking about." Walker finished. You giggled, elbowing him softly.

"Someone's in denial. Where's this attitude when we're picking out movies for movie night?" You said, dodging Walker's hand as he tried to cover your mouth again.

Hoda, Jenna, and Ryan all laughed at your statement.

"Walker, how many times have you watched Deadpool?" Hoda asked him again.

Walker smiled. "Uhh, for legal reasons- I can't uhh." Hoda and Jenna started laughing again.

"He's so funny, Oh my God!" Hoda squeaked out.

"I love him!" Jenna laughed.

"How much did you?" Hoda gasped. Walker looks nervously at you.

"Answer them!" Ryan said, giving Walker a look, leaning over Y/n's chair.

"Uhh, a couple-" Walker started.

"More than seven?" Jenna asked.

"-Hundred. Yeah, more than seven." Walker finished, and you started laughing hard with the rest of the people around you. You clutched your sides, bending forward in your chair, silently laughing.

"He can recite every syllable, of either movie. Ask Y/n, she knows." Ryan said.

"Oh my god, Y/n does he?" Jenna asked you. You nodded. Walker shot you a look.

"You do not get to give me a stink eye, dude," you said, pointing your finger at him. "Every second of every day the first couple weeks of filming, Walker would be normal, and talk about normal things. Until he got comfy with me, and at random times," Hoda and Jenna started to laugh, knowing what you were going to say next. "Walker would trot over to me, and he would proceed to spew a whole monologue from Deadpool. At first, I tried to walk away from him, but Walker learned how to handle that because he would grab onto my shoulders, and hold me hostage until he was done with whatever he was saying."

When Y/n said, 'Hold me hostage,' Hoda and Jenna started laughing uncontrollably.

"He even knows those crappy, sub-expo lines that no one remembers. He also knows stage direction." Ryan cut in. Walker laughed and shifted his resting leg again.

"I think I've spent more hours watching Deadpool than I do outside," Walker admitted, earning a laugh from you.

"Wait, what grade are you two in?" Hoda asked.

"We're both in seventh." You and Walker said at the same time.

"Woah, I just got hit with the twin synchronization!" Hoda exclaimed, laughing before she continued.

"Since you both go to school, what do your friends think about your little gig?" She followed up.

"Well, I didn't really tell a lot of people about it, you know? Like- just my close friends and stuff. But when it was released on Netflix, I just got random people coming up to me and asking if I was in The Adam Project. Then, people just started texting me like- edits of myself in class group chats." You laughed, as did Hoda and Jenna.

"What about you, Walker?"Jenna asked.

"Well, they don't really..er-well, they thought that I was just a flashback or something, so they didn't really know, which was nice! Uh," Walker leaned forward in his chair. "It's just really weird because kids come up to me, and they ask me what Ryan Reynolds smells like?" He finished, with you laughing alongside him.

"What does he smell like? That's actually a great question. I've been wondering that same thing throughout this whole thing." Jenna asked.

"Is it- Is it wood? I think it's wood." Jenna said first.

"I think it's something fresh, like leaves of 2000.'" Hoda countered.

"Same, maybe it's sage," Jenna said, excitedly tapping Hoda's arm.

"You would think it would be butternut squash with cinnamon, but it's actually baby powder," Ryan said. Jenna and Hoda snickered.

"What a beautiful smell. Okay Ryan, "Jenna said, straightening her back. "You seem to have a friendly relationship with these two. You also have one with our good friend Hugh Jackman."

Hoda laughed. "Didn't you send a life-sized cut out of yourself to him?"

"It was a life-sized charcoal drawing of myself." Ryan corrected, having fake poshness to his voice. "C'mon now, I'm not tacky. And, it was two drawings. The first one was not well received, and the second one of me in a different pose was definitely not well received." Ryan finished. You and Walker shared a smile.

"We just half to say, you just got the red carpet for this show, I'm sorry to say it, but your wife stole the show," Jenna said earnestly.

"Always." Hoda agreed.

"In that rainbow dress? I mean, I saw you in the background-" Jenna started, and the picture of Blake Lively's dress popped up on the computer.

"Wow." You and Walker both said.

"-So in the future, if you two play each other, you could wear that." Jenna finished.

"You too could wear that exact dress," Ryan said. "Uh, in the sequel to The Adam Project." You giggled with Walker.

"We have a couple questions for the twins, actually." Hoda and Jenna said.

"Shoot," you said, inviting them to continue.

"Okay, you and Walker have to say the same things at the same time. Ready?" Jenna shuffled her papers slightly.

"Wait, do we say the answer that we think the other is going to say?" You asked.

"Sure!"

"Okay, Walker I'm just going to say yours." You confidently said. Walker shrugged in a way of saying, alright.

"What is your favorite snack?"

"Frosted Flakes." you both said.

"Favorite Movie?"

"Deadpool two." You said, rolling your eyes. Walker gave you a little push.

"Favorite sports team?"

Your eyes widened, and you looked at Walker you shrugged. You definitely did not know any sports teams.

"The Red Dragons," Walker said, poking your forehead with his finger.

"Ow," you muttered to yourself.

"And last thing, what is the most annoying thing about Ryan Reynolds?"

"His face." Both of you answered. Hoda and Jenna started dying with laughter. Ryan just glared at you two.

"Wow, shots are fired. The shot is fired. You know that I'm big in Hollywood, right? I can have you two completely destroyed." Ryan threatened. You and Walker just sent toothy grins at him.

"Okay, you can get the Adam Project streaming on Netflix. Thank you." Honda said, laughing.

"And..cut!"

my first tumblr blog done! tysm for everyone reading this!

[fanbasetwo]

first time w anton? virgin anton x virgin reader?

IM ON MY KNEES BEGGING YOU 🙂

✦ BABY GIRL, 143 ! ANTON

001. PAIRING , virgin anton × virgin reader

002. SYNOPSIS , anton had been away from you for some months and now when he was back, you showed him all the texts you had seen on his phone. only ending up sealing the deal at the end.

003. GENRE , smut

004. WARNING(S) , kissing, a little dirty talk but anton is just shameless lol, teasing, pussy slapping, little to no prep, boob play, nipple play (slightly), they make up pretty early after fight, hymen breaking, mentions of blood and pain, too much plot if you ask me, lmk if I missed anything.

005. WORD COUNT , 1.8K

MASTERLIST!! join my taglist by sending an ask or commenting here <3

You had been dating Anton for a few years now. You met through a dating app, and while some might find that odd, you both clicked instantly. For better or worse, you fell in love.

Since you started dating at a young age, you both decided to seek job opportunities outside of town, which meant navigating a long-distance relationship. While many say long-distance relationships often fizzle out, that wasn’t the case for you two.

In fact, Anton would send you those silly memes that made you laugh and would video call you while cooking, asking for your advice if he messed something up. His friends teased you, saying you two were practically a married couple, and while there was some truth to that, the more accurate reality was that you both missed each other terribly.

So when he finally returned after landing a high-paying job—while you worked part-time as a cashier to cover rent—he insisted on paying your rent, but you turned him down.

The relationship seemed perfect, especially with his visit after what felt like two long years apart. But everything changed when you accidentally glanced at his phone. A text from a number with a heart emoji as a name read, “Is my baby fine?” In that moment, the realization hit you hard: the person you thought was your boyfriend was cheating on you.

“SO YOU CHEATED?!” you shouted as soon as you heard him enter the apartment. Anton, always the goofy one, jumped back in surprise at your furious tone and asked, feigning ignorance, “I’m not sure what you're talking about.”

“The message!” you ground out through clenched teeth, pointing at his phone, which he had mistakenly left behind.

As understanding seemed to dawn on him, he cursed under his breath and then smiled, which only confused you more. Why was he smiling? Shouldn’t he be trying to explain himself? Did those years together not mean anything to him?

Then he stepped closer, and instinctively, you took a step back until your back hit the wall of your apartment. His hands cupped your face as he said, “Hmm… Why would you trust the text so much? The ‘baby’ wasn’t me. The ‘baby’ was her dog, the one she asked me to take care of for a while.”

You didn’t buy it, so you pressed on, “Oh really? Then why does her username have a heart?”

He paused for a moment but answered without hesitation, even though you glared at him. “Well, maybe because that’s my mom?”

Processing that, your eyes widened. It actually made a sick sort of sense. The woman in the profile picture looked significantly older and bore some resemblance to Anton. Now you found yourself in a strange situation, filled with doubt.

You had just confronted your longtime boyfriend, your heart racing at the thought of betrayal, all sparked by a simple text while he gently held your face in his hands. “I’m sorry,” he murmured, his voice filled with sincerity.

“I’m hurt, but I’ll find it in my heart to forgive you. I could never cheat on you, Y/N,” he reassured, resting his forehead against yours, the warmth of his skin anchoring you in that moment.

It took you back to when your love was fresh and innocent, when you were just seventeen, lost in each other’s world. Those years apart felt like an eternity, and as you closed your eyes, you longed for the sweetness of his touch, the electric thrill of his lips on yours.

The kiss deepened, a beautiful melody played by your lips as you moved together in perfect sync. He pulled away just enough to catch his breath before diving back in, his tongue tracing gentle patterns that sent shivers down your spine.

You felt the rhythm of your tongues entwining, a lovely exploration you had only ever dreamed of. You had talked about waiting for one another, yet now you felt the exhilarating unknown of your connection. His hands traveled up your shirt, igniting tingles on your skin, and as he broke the kiss to rest his forehead against yours, the world around you faded away.

“Can I touch you more?” he asked, his hands gliding under your shirt as he looked at you with such intensity and love, as if he had been waiting for this moment forever. The truth was, both of you were a bit inexperienced in this area, but let’s be honest, you both wanted to explore… so you nodded.

Before long, his hands were cupping your breasts beneath your shirt and bra. He was touching your bare skin. You could feel both of your breaths hitching; it was something new for the two of you after all.

You feel Anton's warm breath on your face as he leans in close, his lips softly brushing against yours in a tender kiss. "I can... really touch, right?" he murmurs, looking for your confirmation before pulling you closer, his strong arms wrapping around you. His tongue dances with yours as the kiss deepens, sending tingles through your body.

When you nod, he breaks the kiss, and his hands move with a swiftness that takes your breath away. Your shirt and bra are discarded in one smooth motion, leaving your bare skin exposed to his hungry gaze. His thumbs find your nipples, rubbing the sensitive buds until they harden into tight peaks. You can't help but let out a soft moan as waves of pleasure wash over you, your back pressed firmly against the wall.

Suddenly, you're airborne as Anton scoops you up in his arms, cradling you securely against his chest. A warm feeling envelops you, and you can't help but wish that at least one of you had some experience with this. "You don't mind, right?" he asks, his voice tinged with uncertainty as he lays you down gently on the bed.

"Yeah, but..." you trail off, a hint of nervousness creeping into your tone. "Do you know how to...? At least one of us should know what we're doing."

Anton crawls on top of you, his powerful body hovering over yours. He leans down, planting a soft kiss between the valley of your breasts before looking up at you from between them. A sheepish grin spreads across his face. "I may have watched some... for scientific purposes, of course," he adds with a playful wink.

His arousal is evident, a hardened bulge straining against the fabric of his pants. It brushes against your jeans, sending shivers through both of you.

Your eyes flutter shut as Anton unbuttons his pants, the sound of fabric sliding against fabric filling the room. He discards them on the floor, along with your own jeans, the cool air brushing against your now bare skin. His large hand envelops your smaller one, guiding it towards his clothed bulge. You both hitch a breath as your fingers make contact, his arousal evident beneath the thin fabric.

"See what you do to me?" he whispers, his voice low and husky with need. You swallow hard, your heart thumping in your chest as he pushes his boxers down, and you see him, all hard and long, your eyes widening as a deep blush spreads across your cheeks at the exposed sight of him, vulnerable to you.

"Baby, you wanna put it in or do I?" he asks, unapologetic and direct, his tone incredulous. You squirm under him and look away, embarrassment exuding like a palpable scent.

"That's not quite. decent," you mumble, your voice barely more than a whisper.

Anton chuckles, a low, rich sound that sends shivers down your spine. "For what we're about to do, I don't think we should care about being decent," he says with a raised brow and a playful smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth as your clothes join his on the floor.

Again, his hand bumps against yours to move it to his bare cock. You can feel every ridge and vein beneath your fingertips, the heat of his skin searing against your own. Your shyness returns, but there's no denying the effect your touch has on him. He groans and his hips bulge slightly as your hand is constricted around his length.

"Have you never slept with anyone?" you ask, a note of skepticism creeping into your voice because of how confident he seemed. He shakes his head, the dark locks falling across his forehead.

"It's because I love you and I trust you," he breathes, words stuttered over a guttural curse as your hand tightens its grip. "Fuck.”

Your grip tightens on the shoulder of Anton as his cock teases your wetness, the head slapping lightly against your pussy. He lets out a sigh as that anticipation builds between you and him. "I am going to put it in," he whispers, his gaze searching yours for any sign of disapproval. Finding none, he slowly pushes forward, the tip of his cock breaching your entrance.

A shiver of agony rips across you as your cherry is broken, drops of blood trickling down into your pussy. Tears well up from your squeezed eyes, your body tensing against this strange sensation. Anton buries his face in the crook of your neck, his own breathing in ragged gasps. "It—h-hurts—" your voice cracks, the words barely audible.

He lifts his head, his eyes meeting yours as he asks, "Should I pull out?" Despite the guilt etched on his face, you shake your head stubbornly. "No, I want to do it." Your walls clench around him, your body instinctively trying to accommodate his size.

Anton takes a sharp breath of air. He waits a few moments before pushing deeper. A scream tears from your throat, your body arching off the bed as he sheathes himself fully inside you. Tears stream down your face, and he leans down, capturing your lips in a tender kiss as he stills, allowing you to adjust to the intrusion.

"This is good, right? You're not scared now. are you?" he whispers against your lips, his hips rocking gently, your body slowly relaxing as it grows accustomed to the stretch.

"Mm." is all you can say, your mind dazed by the shocks of the sensations. His cock spasms inside you, and you and he are suddenly acutely aware of the crimson stain spreading across the sheets. Concern flickers in his eyes, but he knows this is normal, a testament to your lost innocence.

"It's okay, baby. It's supposed to hurt a little the first time," Anton reassures you, his voice soft and soothing. He kisses your tears away, his lips trailing along your cheek and down your neck. "I've got you. We'll go slow."

He starts to move, his hips rocking gently against yours, easing you into the rhythm. Each thrust sends a wave of pleasure mixed with discomfort, your body struggling to adapt to the foreign sensation of being filled so completely.

"Breathe, Y/N. In and out," he coaches, his own breathing ragged as he fights to maintain control. "Tell me how it feels. If it's too much, I'll stop."

You whimper, your nails digging into his shoulders as you try to focus on the instructions. "I-It's intense," you manage, your voice trembling. "But don't stop. I want to feel all of you."

NOTE FROM SENA , this was genuinely just supposed to be a drabble, how the hell is this 1.8k words 😭💕

© fanbasetwo | tumblr

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Get Lost

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You get caught in the corn maze after dark but you don’t think those footsteps belong to someone trying to help you find your way out.

Characters: Lloyd Hansen

Note: this is the fifth and final of my autumn fics as decided by all of you!

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Asking for more or putting ‘part 2?’ is not feedback.

Love you all. You are appreciated and your are worthy. Treat yourself with care. 💖

Jaden points across the dash, receiving a swat from Alexandria as she tries not to veer. 

“Hey,” she cries out, “don’t do that. I can’t see over your ugly sweater.” 

“Oh, whatever, Lex,” he snips, “I was just trying to show you that.” He points again, this time without blocking her view, “you see that sign ahead?” 

“Sure, I see it,” she leans over the wheel as your nail taps across your phone screen. You huff. You wish they’d stop arguing for one moment. “A maze?” 

“A corn maze. Doesn’t that sound fun? I haven’t been to one since I was a kid.” 

“Of course, you haven’t,” you scoff and let your phone hang carelessly in your hand. “We’ve all seen that movie with the evil kids. Who wants to go running through a field?” 

“I do,” Ashton says, “better than driving around looking for those shoes that don’t exist.” 

His girlfriend, Samira, laughs and leans into him. You blow a raspberry. 

“It’s all the way out in the middle of nowhere,” you sneer. 

“Well, Mrs. Xanny, you never want to do anything so your vote counts for nothing,” Jaden retorts. 

“Excuse me,” you roll your eyes. 

“I’m up for it,” Ashton raises his hand. 

“Me too,” Samira mimics him. 

“Me three,” Jaden declares. “So looks like you two are outvoted.” 

“Whatever,” you mutter and Alexandria sighs. 

“Fine, but nobody better leave me behind. I’m not getting lost because of you idiots,” she growls. 

“Don’t worry, Lexi, I’ll hold your wittle hand,” Jaden teases. 

The others laugh and you go back to your phone. You’re more interested in the new heels at your favourite boutique than some dirty and scarecrows. Alexandria steers on as she continues to snap at Jaden to stop distracting her. Her driving is a lot scarier than anything that might be hiding in the maze. 

You swipe and tap and tune out the world around you, especially the two lovebirds exchanging not so subtle touches beside you. Jaden had to insist on sitting in the front. Finally, the car rolls, the axle jostled by the lumpy ground, and you look up at the gray sky. You hate daylight savings. 

When the wheels are still, you’re reluctant to get out. You could offer to watch the car until they get back. It’s cold and you don’t feel like slogging through soil and seed. 

“Hey, Lex,” you begin. 

“If I’m going, you’re going,” she snips as she undoes her seatbelt. 

You curl your lip and make a face at her back. The others are already out of the car. Jaden’s bouncing eagerly, Ashton’s staring at the gate to the maze, and Samira is draped off her boyfriend’s arm. They probably just want to find a dark corner so they can makeout. They are so high school. 

“Fifteen bucks?” You read the sign above the table, “blech. I could put that towards my hair appointment tomorrow.” 

“Oh, boo hoo,” Jaden snorts. 

“Don’t act like you don’t have the money,” Samira jeers. 

You call these people ‘friends’ lightly. You all just kind of stick together out of familiarity. Most people you’ve met aren’t much better so why risk downgrading. 

You take a step and feel your tall heel sink into the mud. Ew. 

“Oh, my boots,” you whine as you lift your sole, the muck dripping off of it. 

“Wash em after,” Ashton says. 

“These are Louis’,” you snarl. 

“And you have at least three identical pairs at home. Lighten up,” he barks back. 

You cross your arms and seal your lips with a wry smile. You’re not arguing with him. He’s been a jerk ever since you turned him down at his sister’s twenty-fifth. You suppose it was his birthday two, them being twins and all. Not that he looks very much like Alexandria. 

You trod after the four others, trying not to step too deep in the mud. You growl at the ground. You know what’s not dirty, a salon or a store. 

“Nice boots,” a deep voice rolls over you as you join the queue for tickets.  

You lift your head and look over at the man nearby. He steps up next to you as you eye his bristly upper lip. It’s a look, not a good one. 

“Brave girl going in alone,” he comments. 

You frown, “I’m not,” you step closer to your friends and they chatter. 

“Oh, coulda fooled me,” he remarks as he reaches into his jacket. “So, those Louis boots... those are last year’s...” 

“How would you know?” 

He shows the lining of his jacket. Also Louis. He pokes his fingers into the interior pocket and slides out a pack of gum. He pushes out a piece and pops it in his mouth. He tucks the pack back into his pocket and drops his hands to his hip. 

“So,” he chews the gum loudly. “You’re not really dressed for a maze.” 

“And you are?” You scowl, looking him up and down. He copies your posture and does the same to you. 

“I’m not here for the maze, baby girl,” he winks and snaps the gum. “But you have fun.” 

He turns and struts away before you can respond. Your lips open in confusion. What could he mean? You blink and shut your mouth, stepping up between Alexandria and Ashton. 

“So, how long are we going to have to stand around?” You ask. 

🌾

You hold your phone up in irritation. Your bars are totally gone. Great. This maze thing is so fucking boring. What are you supposed to do now? 

You sniff and shake your head. You sigh and put your phone in your jacket pocket, keeping your hand in the fleecy insert as the chill creeps up your leggings. You guess you’ll have to help or whatever. 

“Alex--” you look ahead then back, and side to side. Your heart leaps and you rush forward as fast as you can on your six-inch heels, “Alexandria? Ashton?” You look around the next corner and the opposite way along the other pathway. “Samira?” 

You spin again, your ankles tangling together. You blink as the tall corner adds to the dimness setting over the horizon. You gulp as your heart pounds in your throat. You slip your phone free once more and turn on the flashlight. 

You aim it ahead and listen for voices. You don’t hear much past the dense wall of stalks. As you brush a bit too close, you cry out and back away from the hanging husk. You shake of the crawling sensation and turn back and forth again. You lost your sense of direction. 

You look up at the sky. The clouds are thick, you can see neither moon or sun. You stop and pull your phone closer. You bring up your maps but it’s just a blank screen. Still no signal. 

Fuck it. Just walk, you’ll find the way. 

You shine the light ahead of you, your heels sinking into the mulch of footsteps, husks, and stones. You walk unevenly over the soft ground. You mumble obscenities as your arches start to bemoan the height. If you had known about this special excursion, you could’ve worn your Uggs. 

There’s a scuff, a strange echo of your own steps. You stop but it keeps going. You squint and twirl around, the light glinting off the corner and slicing through shadows. “Hello?” You call out. 

The footsteps continue but no one answers. You can’t tell if they’re ahead of you or behind you. Or to the left. Or right. You sway back and forth. This is getting weird. 

You take a breath and set your feet. You nearly trip as your heels dig in once more. You grunt and pull them out. You’re about to just scream for help. 

A sudden rumble makes you squeal. What the hell was that? You twist around and it happens again. It’s laughter? Someone’s laughing at you? 

You look at the tall stalks of corn, searching between the tight rows. 

“Alright, not very funny. Ashton....” you holler. 

The laughter gets louder. 

“Jaden,” you hiss. 

The laughter stops. 

“I really am not amused, okay? I want out. I never even wanted to do this stupid thing--” 

“Those boys are long gone, sweet peach,” the voice drawls around you like the wind, “I’m all man.” 

“Where are you? Who are you?” You ask. 

“I’m right behind you, baby, and I’m your knight in shining armour,” he purrs. 

You gasp and turn around. You beam the flashlight of the phone in the man’s face. You only get a glimpse of that short brown mustache before the cell is knocked from your grasp. 

“What are you tryna do? Blind me?” He snarls as your phone disappears between the corn. 

“What-- What do you want?” You step back, dragging your heels from the mud. 

“I wanna help, baby,” he slithers. “You seem lost.” 

You blink at him. He’s a dark silhouette against the greyness trapped in the maze. You bristle and look over at the corn. 

“Sure, I’ll just grab my phone, thanks--” 

“Ah, ah,” he comes up to meet you, blocking you with his arm. “I don’t work for free, honey pot.” 

“Fine, then go away,” you spit. 

“Woah, ho, you haven’t even asked what I want in return, sweetie,” he brings his other hand up to touch your cheek and you flinch away. 

“You’re not getting it, dude,” you back up. 

“Just a little suck. Hell, you give the little guy a nice kiss and I won’t even make you finish the job--” 

“Ew, no way,” you smack his hand down as he reaches for you again. “Fuck off--” 

He’s quick. He grabs you by your jaw and snarls as he looms over you, “for such a pretty mouth it sure is fucking filthy. Won’t matter what I put in it--” 

“Hey,” you grunt and writhe in his grasp, twisting your hands around his thick forearms, “get off--” 

“I’m trying, trust me--” 

You ram your knee up and feel the crunch in his pants. He wheezes and lets you go. You shove him and stagger backwards. You look at the corn one last time. Your phone is somewhere in there. 

As he cradles his crotch and snarls, the urgency of the moment slaps you across the face. Fuck your phone. You need to get away from this creep. 

Thank god you got insurance on your cell plan. You turn and lift your knees. You land on your toes, keeping your heels off the ground as much as you can. You’re not going very fast and you know you look ridiculous but you don’t care. You want to go home. 

You pump your arms as you breath hitches. You hear groans and another set of steps, just like before. You get to a corner and turn before you crash through the corn. You heave as you race away, ankles threatening to bend. At what point do you just ditch the Louis’ and mourn them with your phone. 

You cough and slow down. Shit. You’re in terrible shape. You look over your shoulder, your breath foggy in the plummeting temperature. You don’t see him. You don’t hear him either. Good. 

You turn-- 

“Boo!” The man startles you so you shriek. 

You stagger back as he cackles and you hurl yourself forward. Your feet catch as your heels stab the ground and you stumble with your arms flailing away from him. Your shallow breaths thunder around you as you charge through the maze only to find yourself trapped at a dead end. 

You stop and waver, lungs filled with fire. Fuck, fuck, fuck! You stomp with each internal proclamation. 

“Look, sugar tits, you can keep running and I’ll keep chasing,” the man struts up behind you as you spin to face him. “But it all ends the same way.” He sets his feet wide and cracks his knuckles. “And since you bruised my left nut,” he snarls, “you can kiss that better first.” 

“Uh, like why are you doing this?” You ask. 

He chortles, “like because I can.”  

You snarl and cross your arms, “you’re a loser. And you’re old. Like, can’t you find someone your own age to creep on?” 

He laughs louder but there’s not much humour in it. He stalks closer and your defiance glimmers, just a little. You don’t know where he gets off. Does he really think he can just tell you what to do? 

“So, I knew you were gonna be a handful,” he grabs you by the neck and you wince. You slap his wrist and he tuts, bringing his other hand up to grope your chest, “in more ways than one.” 

“Hey, fuck--” you grit out. “Hey!” 

“Look, sweetie, it’s a simple transaction. I pull my pants down, you keep those teeth to yourself, and be real nice to me,” he glares down at you. “The way you crushed my balls, you’re lucky I don’t make you lick my boots.” 

“What is wrong with you?” You growl. 

“Oh, a lot,” he smirks. “Now, those boots must kill your feet so...” he jerks you roughly, “on your knees.” 

Your eyes tinge just a little but you won’t cry. Not because of him. You gnash your teeth and grimace at him as he peels his hand away. 

“You got one thing going for you, baby, and that’s that pretty face. I can change that, trust me,” he warns. You swallow avert your eyes. He chuckles again, “god, I love that pout.” 

You bat your lash and fight to keep the litany of insults inside. You caterpillar faced fuck. You viagra powered moron. You overgrown frat boy. 

“The next time you open your mouth, it better be to gobble my cock,” he sneers, “so don’t even say it.” 

You look at him again. You set your eyes and your jaw. You step closer and he lifts his chin just slightly as he stares you down. 

You grab his belt and he twitches. You unbuckle it and whip the ends aside. You pop the button open and yank the zipper apart. He watches you, his eyebrow tweaking. You push his fly wide and roll your eyes as you feel his naked pelvis beneath your fingertips. Of course, this weirdo is hanging loose. 

You reach under his pants and angle his hard dick through the teeth of the zipper. You stroke him up and down with a dry, tight grip. He hisses and shifts his weight. 

“Careful, like sandpaper,” he rasps. 

You tut and look down. You huff. You move one foot back and bend your leg. You put one knee to the ground then the other. You make a face as you come level to his tip. Ugh. 

“Don’t look so fucking enticed,” he barks. You roll your eyes again and he swats your head. “Keep doing that and your eyes are getting stuck.” 

Old. Man. 

You pump him again and slowly, inch by inch, lean in. 

“Ah, I said kiss the left one first, then you can get to the main dish,” he puts his hand on his hip. 

You swallow and push down a tide of disgust. You lift him and lean your head to the side. You crane around and pucker, pressing your lips to his left ball. He twitches and groan. 

“Damn, those lips are soft. Do the other one.” 

With bile brewing in your stomach, you obey. You pull back and put his tip to your lips. You narrow your gaze at his pelvis and spread your mouth around him. You wet his swollen head then work your way down his length. He might be a desperate loser but he’s not small. 

You bob up and down as you take more and more of him. He curls his fingers into his hip as his other hand goes to the back of your head. He urges you on and you bat his hand with yours. You push back against him and flick your eyes up. 

“You are a stubborn one,” he rebukes. 

Your lips meet your hand and you pump him emphatically with both, popping off his tip so he whimpers. He clutches a wad of your hair as his eyes gleam desperately. 

“I kissed it better,” you wipe your mouth, “you show me the way out, and you might just finish, old man.” 

He stares down at you. Agitation and amusement battle across his expression. He takes a breath and lets it out. 

“One last kiss and I’ll get you out,” he says, “And then you’ll get me off.” 

The cold air swirls around you and the darkness floods through the corn. You squeeze him slightly and put a sloppy kiss on his tip with a loud muah. You let go and tickle along his length. You grab onto his arm and pull yourself to your feet. 

“I want out. Now.” 

“Alright, princess,” he snickers. “Don’t you worry, I got a throne you can sit on when we’re home free.” 

[sizzlingstarlightsky]

*Let Me Entertain You

Azriel x Reader x Eris

word cound: 1800

cw: smut, porn with plot, anal, deepthroating, voyerism

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Another meeting. Another day of hiding. Azriel has been haunting the halls of the Forest House for the last few months. Avoiding being seen by anyone other than his shadows, his mates, and their hounds.

As well trained as the hounds are, they almost gave him away a few times. He'd been outside with Eris and Y/N on a walk. Blending into the silhouettes of trees and nearby foliage. Azriel would occationally let a shadow or few chase around the puppies.

Lost in the peace of it all, the spymaster was oblivious to one of the guards winnowing up to Eris. Some letter to deliver in his hands. Of course that's precisely the moment a couple pups started barking at their shadow friends. Able to reign the tendrils in, just not fast enough to avoid to color draining from the guards face. Rumors of the grounds being haunted shortly followed but nothing serious was ever done about it. Eris knew, he loved the subtle pandimonium it caused. Sometimes calling a guard or emissary to that spot for, some bullshit reason. The High Lord only wanted a chuckle.

But this wasnt one of those tranquil days of peace. No. Today Azriel is bound to the darkened walls of his mates Throne room. Forced to conceal the love between them.

Eris had no problem introducing Y/N to the court. He reveled in how contagious your laughter and joy were. How effortless it was for you to thaw out the frozen fear Beron plunged the land into. But that's exactly why you two couldnt be tangled up in the High Lords bed that day, creating music only for one anothers ears.

Today Y/N was in one of the villages. Helping them clear land and plot new crops. Making way for farm animals to flourish. Sowing seeds of compassion and hope into the hearts of who you deem 'The most important people in the kingdom'.

"Does anyone have anything INTRESTING before we end? It's been budgets, complaints, and concerns all day. Entertain me" As overlooked as he felt, Az couldn't help but let a small smirk creep into his lips. Eris might be a cocky bitch, but fuck was he beautiful. Esspecially sprawled out over his throne. One leg hanging off the armrest while he files his nails.

The image of himself kneeling before his High Lord, tongue pooling, cock stiffening, arousal heating... fuck. no.

Encasing himself into the darkness he emrges on a back patio of one of their secret cabins within the autumn mountains. The one lost in the North West Mountains being his favorite. Right below the relaxing regidity of the Winter Court and along to coast of the cooling Summer breeze. The air flow between all 3 courts create a jet stream unlike any hes flown in. Flips and spins. Twists and Dips. At the end of the flight, a clean dive into the late Autumn lake in the backyard.

Home.

At least he hoped. Finally a place he feels at peace. No expectations, just harmony. Azriel loves his brothers and sees them often. Grateful of their support towards his mating with both Y/N and Eris. Courts healing, wings spread ready to pave his own path, just to end up tangled in his shadows again.

Eris has been allowing the mask to come undone. It hasn't been an easy journey but slowly those around have been growing fond of their new High Lord. When Beron died and Eris was infused of the generational fire, many feared. They had only known of him to be cruel as his father. It was a challanging time to finally achnowladge the bond between them.

but you... when the bond reveled you as a second mate to both males, everything changed. Eris started relaxing. softening. Others started noticing smiles, laughs, even deep gratitude being clearly pointed their way. Azriel wasn't sure if the courts healing was because the High Lord of fire was settling in chaos or because there was a second flame to balance his intensity out. Help redistribute everything he's kept bottled up for centuries.

but Azriel... he stays hidden away. As if Eris were ashamed to be mated to someone so evil. So hopeless. So untrustworthy. So tainted.

Walking into the Mountainside cabin, avoiding Eris; who must have winnowed in while he was in the lake, Az headed to their bedroom for a dry change of clothes.

"Did your broody little flight not cool you down?"

"Fuck you Eris."

"Oh I know you want to shadowsigner. I could feel you during the meeting. Don't think I dont know what goes on in that pretty little brain of yours."

When Azriel doesn't give Eris the reaction he's looking for, he doubles down, eager to pick a fight with his mate.

"The dive wasn't super crisp today. I give it a 6. no, maybe a 6.9 but that's a bit too generous. Not quite sure if you can handle that." ..nothing.. "I don't know what's gotten into you recently. I know I havent been able to for a few days but I didn't think you'd be this needy while Y/N is awa-" Eris is cut short as his fully overgrown vampire bat rams into him. Pinning him to the cabin wall.

"You think I want to be your dirty secret? The one thing you keep hidden, afraid how others would react once they knew what a disgusting beast you allow into your bed?" Eris knew somethings been bothering his husband, but it's difficult getting the spymaster to open up. To talk about his deeper, darker thought and fears.

"Why are you two agruing now?" Y/N. That beautiful sweet voice breaks the tension in the room for a hot moment. "You know what, I'm not entertaining this right now. I'm going back to the Forest House to drop of paperwork, take a bath, and grab my book."

"Please, don't be fighting anymore when I get back. I'm tired and we havent had an evening to lay outside in one anothers arms in what feels like ages."

"It's been 11 days and 18 hours. 12 days too long." Az corrects. Still with his forarm pressing Eris's throat against the wall and his knee digging into his inner thigh. The High Lord only grinning. Reveling in the frustration of your mate.

"Please Az? Just talk to one another." Placing a jar down on the kitchen counter before Y/N leaves, "I got some more caramel from Marla in Maple Village. I'm gonna make cookies to drizzle it over tonight. So you better not be fighting or I'll eat them all."

A cold breeze broke through the windows once Y/N left. Leaving them alone togther, in darkness and flame.

~~~~~~~~~

Floating in the giant tub of the Forest House, the few words you caught ruminating through your tired head. Allow in your bed. Turning over leaf after leaf of meaning you overthink yourself into believing you weren't loving your husbands equally. Your mates, who have different love languages, diffrerent sleep schedules, different shared intrests. How could you possibly make sure one didnt feel slighted.

With a sigh and a clean body you step out of the draining bath. Drying off and putting on one of Eris's shirts and Azriels sweatpants, you grab your current book and winnow back to your favorite hidden cabin. Ready to make cookies and express your balanced love for both your mates.

"ERIS! Fuck you"

Great. Walking towards the bedroom, the sound of slamming furniture becomes louder. Not knowing what state of distress the bedroom will be in this time, you swing the door open. Only to find Eris balls deep in Azriel pounding the everloving fuck out of his ass.

"I.. oh.. uh sorry. I came in to check you werent throwing furniture at each other."

Eris turns towards you with a shit eating grin. "Sure you did Princess. You know our sounds. And I know by your smell that you're lying." Unshething himself from Az, Er walks over to you, grabbing the book out of your hands in favor of placing it on the table. Leading you towards the bed.

Wimpers fall from the shadowsingers mouth. Songs of desire, lust, and love. "Az here thought I was ashamed of him. That I havent officially introduced him to the court because they'd never accept him."

"What? Az baby that's-"

Tenderly grabbing your cheeks Eris shushes you. "He's fucked out Princess. I explained how I didn't want to pressure him into making his presence known and, well, you know how he gets." Heat building inbetween your legs at the two devilishly handsome males infront of you. Bare. Hung. Marked with passion.

A beat of silence broken by a deep chuckle. "I have an idea Princess. A surefire way to make sure everyone knows I'm not ashamed. Only if you're okay with it?"

"Oh, um" Blushing you remember a conversation a few weeks ago. Different things you wanted to try with one another "yeah fuck it. Now seems as good of a time as ever." Winking to Azriel who's watching you as if he's about to implode.

Before you could process what you agreed to, the three of you are winnowed into the Throne room. Only you clothed.

"Tell me Azriel" sitting on his throne naked, wrapping Azriels neck in a controlled flame collar "what is it you were thinking earlier"

"I thought you knew?" He tried to fight back. Never letting the male have it easy.

A nice tug on the fire leash brings Azriel mouth level with Eris's aching cock. On cue Az opens his mouth, tongue out, drooping all over the High Lords lap.

"Look at the mess you're making. Clean it up" Lowering his head Azriel licks up his spit from Eris's pelvis. Careful not to do anything without the High Lords permission.

"Good boy. Open for me" Placing his finger in Azriels mouth Eris begins to stroke himself. Azriel taking the opprotunity to suck on his husbands thumb.

"Fuck. So good for me. Princess, come here"

"Yes daddy?"

"Don't you agree?"

"Yes daddy." You moan. Humming into your neck Eris bring Azriel wet mouth to the tip of his leaking cock. "Earn your reward"

It's almost as if his shadows possessed him. A switch was flicked and Azriel is now the sluttiest little cock whore. Gagging gracefully around his favorite beef jerkey. "Get under him princess. Reward him." With a snap you've joined them in the skin dance. Dripping a trail of your sweet treasure in your path.

Slipping into position from the steps, laying down, you grab Azriels considerable length. Licking up the precum sliding down his vein and balls.

Mid face fuck the door to the Throne room opens, causing hesitation from your mate. "I didn't say to stop" Eris moans low and dark.

"You summoned us my Lord?"

"Cauldron bless us."

"Oh mother. My greatest apologies my Lord." There was a not so rushed scramble to leave, where many glances lingered before the doors shut them in.

Eris is the first to speak as Azriel's still bobbing up and down his cock like the good boy he is.

"You couldn't entertain me... let me entertain you"

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

I smoked a little weed, messed around with an idea and ended up here. I hope you enjoy it.

Coming up with ideas is annoyingly tricky so if you have suggestions please let me know. I can feel the writing hyperfixation building.

[asfearlessasamango]

listen. we talk about divorced langdon but i don't think it's happening, at least not for another few seasons. hear me out: widowered langdon. there’s a fic in my head

"2 kids under 4" means it's pretty likely Abby isn't working and is a SAHM. that's an insanely difficult time to get divorced. she has huge reasons to throw everything into langdon's recovery and get their family (and his resident salary) back on stable ground.

we also only know langdon as a kind of delusional addict who's divorced (ba-dum-sh) from his wife's reality. it's quite possible that he was a much better husband and dad, with actual standards for his own behavior, ones that exclude workplace cheating, before the benzos got him.

so, s2: langdon is back after rehab, piecing his stability, marriage, job back together. he and mel get closer as she supports him this time around. but we also get langdon stepping out into the ambulance bay to check in with abby, he's buying a vacuum cleaner, etc. laser-focused on triaging his own marriage and career.

season 3: langdon is doing good, maybe even great, at work, and he and mel are a fantastic team. someone else's emotional arc will take precedence this season. but if he and abby were going to get divorced, it would be now, and they kind of both know it.

their check-in phone call is strained. they both love each other but she's telling him things about lost trust and how much she's lost to his career. langdon is desperate to keep her, he keeps saying "you are the thing that keeps me stable." abby keeps saying "what about happy? when was the last time we even held hands?" he's like "we can do that tonight" and she's like "that's not the point."

divorce talk? no. robbie comes racing out into the ambulance bay and tells langdon to hang up. abby is like "are you fucking kidding me, this is why we need to--" and then she gets cut off. it's another MCI. langdon and robbie jump into action and this time, *this time*, they're a perfect fucking team.

but then. abby comes in. at first robbie actually tries to hide her from langdon, bc if langdon sees abby's injuries, he's going to lose it and then they'll lose 5, 10 more patients

but abby screams for him. and langdon comes running. abby's injuries are slowly fatal, the leah kind. while robbie and langdon work he keeps begging her, "talk to me, don't leave me, stay with me," but the only thing she's telling him is that she loves him, and she mumbles something about taking care of the kids, tells him it'll be okay, starts smiling, tells him....

she dies with both her hands laying empty, because his hands were full of the medical equipment he was trying to save her with.

season 4: langdon is a freshly shattered widower. the pitt is a ptsd site for him. we met him as a hyperactive, kinda immature, high-flying doctor with a great future, a *kid* to dana and robbie. and now he's a completely exhausted single dad with stubble. holding onto his sobriety by a fingernail.

he's standing on the edge with abbott and robbie like a morning routine. princess and garcia and even santos are doing their best to insult him but he just will not banter. they try handing langdon some rookie interns and he's like "no." he starts doing the night shift bc it feels easier, somehow.

enter: mel. by this point, she's a longterm friend, a relative equal in the ER, and as he knows, an exhausted expert at being a caregiver both at work and at home. they both look at each other and see someone who Just Gets It.

the waiting pieces of their chemistry start igniting. mel is not a hookup person. if she's going to fall in love with someone, she's going to fall hard and long. and one or both of them faces a choice of leaving the pitt this season.

[nomazee]

dan heng x gn reader — 1.6k — long overdue continuation of my dumb delinquent au (and the two remaining fans cheer in delight), high school au, probably very americanized, probably ooc, very super incredibly vague implications to sad things but it's so blink-and-you'll-miss-it, himeko is dan heng's adoptive guardian in this au, do u guys hate me for the hoops i'm jumping through to squeeze every character in this au, reluctant friends-to-crush-to-lovers fast/slow burn unbearable unspoken feelings trope

drabble no. 1 of this series/universe, u should probably read this first heh...

notes: hi guys, i'm back after taking yet another unplanned year-long hiatus, hope u missed me! (the crowd stays quiet) i bring u another delinquent au drabble because the worms got to me and i couldn't help it OK, OKAY?!?! enjoy! :3

—°+..｡*ﾟ｡*ﾟ+.*.｡.—

Dan Heng hasn’t seen much of you in the last week. 

It’s unusual, he defends his worries to himself, very unusual. Despite not having a single class with you, he sees you often. In the last few months since he’s known you, he’s seen you at least three times a week after school, sometimes bloody and other times free of any injury, but the point is, he sees you. Talks to you, lets you walk him home (and pointedly doesn’t let you take him to any antique stores or overpriced tea shops on the way there). 

Today is Friday, and the fifth day straight that he’s stood in the courtyard behind the school for thirty minutes after dismissal, waiting for you to show up, appearing in a breeze of glitter and dust like a poorly-practiced magician. It’s the fifth day straight that you haven’t shown up, and he’s starting to realize how paradoxical your friendship feels. 

Dan Heng is hesitant to even call it a friendship. It feels weird—it’s like he’s known you for years, like he’s grown up with you on the same block in the same neighborhood, except in truth he’s only known you for three months, and he just learned your birthday last week after (embarrassingly) prying it out of you. He doesn’t know where you live, which front door to knock on so that he can check up on you, he doesn’t even have your phone number. All he can do is circle the perimeter of school grounds, waiting for you to show up, or looking for a top hat somewhere so he can pull you up out of it like he’s the poorly-practiced magician and you’re the bunny that he’s unethically shoved into a top hat. 

Luckily for him, though, fifth time’s the charm, and on his (miserable, lonely) walk home, he bumps into you as he rounds the corner to his block. Like, really bumps into you.

He hears a semi-familiar shout of horror as he stumbles back, the sudden slam of pressure on his nose making his eyes water, and he clasps his hands over his nose (it doesn’t hurt that bad, he swears), and then your hands are grabbing his shoulder and giving him a firm shake before he can even process that it’s you he’s just stumbled into. 

“Oh!” You shout, and he registers the tilt of your head through his watery, cloudy vision, “It’s you! I was looking for you.”

Dan Heng feels like— laughing, dryly, or maybe grabbing your shoulders back and shaking you until you reflect on how ridiculous you sound—as if he wasn’t the one wandering school grounds for an hour each day for the last week in search of you, like a lost dog, and god he really hopes no one caught him doing that, but at the very least March 7th definitely saw him, which means it’s going to hit the rest of his social circle eventually and he’ll have to hang his head in shame and stay silent when all his friends ask him why he was moping for five days straight. 

“Looking for me?” he mumbles, repeating your words instead of coming up with a thought of his own because he’s still sort of reeling from the sudden sight of you and the buzzing ache in his nose. “Am I bleeding?” 

“Oh,” you say, yet again, and he feels your hands take his wrists and pull them away from his face so that you can get a good glimpse of him. “Nope, no blood. Thank god. I’d feel really bad if I had to return you to Himeko with your face mangled.” 

“Return me,” he echoes again, and in two seconds flat he sobers up and straightens his posture and finally gets a good look at your face. “What? Where have you been?” 

“Around,” you answer vaguely, like you always do, and Dan Heng is now half a step closer to actually shaking you by your shoulders and turning you upside down until the truth falls out of your pockets like cartoon coins. “I’m back now, though! I wasn’t going to get a perfect attendance award anyways, so it’s kind of whatever.” Your lips quirk up into a stupid smile, and your eyes are scanning his face and his potentially bruised nose bridge. “Did you miss me?” 

“Yeah,” he admits, like an idiot, and he unfortunately doesn’t miss the sudden stalling of your expression, the way your smile freezes for half a second and the twitch in your brow. “No,” he quickly rights, but it’s a moot point by now, “whatever. What do you mean, around? Have you been at school at all this week?” He finally looks down at your clothes, which are very much not any kind of school-uniform-adjacent garb, but rather a collared shirt with some kind of logo on the top left. 

“I’ve been working,” you say, and it’s maybe the most honest and straightforward answer that Dan Heng will ever get from you, so he relishes in it for a moment. “You know, a job. Have you heard of that before? Jobs? Employment?” 

“That’s allowed? Are we allowed to work?” 

“Well,” and you do it again, glance off to the side before coming back to him, “I hope so. I’m not looking to quit this job so soon. They hired me, so it’s all good. I just had to miss school this week so they could train me, but I’ll be back on Monday. You’ll get your daily dose of me again soon, don’t worry!” 

Working. Dan Heng doesn’t know much about your schedule, what you do after school besides annoy him and walk him home and get into fights with seemingly invisible and untraceable and unnameable people, but this feels like one more piece in a thousand-piece puzzle where half the pieces have been drenched in water and bent. He feels two steps away from knowing more about you at the same time that he feels miles away. 

“I’m at the movie theatre,” you tell him, “so you should come visit with your friends some day. Four to ten P.M. on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays. You can introduce me to your friends properly, you know,” and you have that nearly-tense, nearly-dishonest quirk of your lips, and you’re looking right at him like you’re trying to tell him something without saying it, “unless you’re too embarrassed to let them meet me.” 

This is not the first time you’ve said things like this, not by a long shot. Dan Heng thinks back, and is sure that you say something along the lines of aren’t you embarrassed at least once for every two times that he talks to you. Scared you’ll get caught with me? you asked him just last week, like being with you was a surefire way to get cursed or shunned or ostracized. Dan Heng doesn't get it, and it doesn't sound like you want him to. 

“No,” he says, steadfast, realizing belatedly that your hands are still around his wrists from when you’d tugged them down off his face, and his skin beneath your fingers is heating up rapidly, but so are the tips of his ears. “That’s not it,” and he really doesn’t have the strength to say anything deeper than that, so he dodges, “what were you doing on my street? Did you go to my house?” 

You’ve been caught. Sheepishly, you let go of his wrists, one hand going up to scratch the back of your neck instead, looking at his neighbor’s dead half-dead rose bush next to the sidewalk. “I kind of figured maybe I’d check in on you, or something. Ask to hang out. But when I came at three, you weren’t home yet, so I just kind of hung out with your mom. I was leaving just now. Figured you were busy, or something?” 

It’s an open-ended question, one that Dan Heng is very unwilling to honestly answer—if he did, he’d have to admit that the task that was oh-so-arduously occupying his time after school was sitting in the courtyard like a grieving wife waiting for her spouse to come home from war. He shakes his head instead of explaining anything—that should be enough of an answer. 

“She gave me cookies,” you continue in lieu of a real response from Dan Heng. “Seriously, am I the only one that eats them, or am I, like, stealing your only source of food every time I come over?” 

“The first one. I hate those things. They’re dry. I don’t understand how you eat them like that.” 

“Woah! Rude! Whatever, more for me. Hey, you’ll help me with all that schoolwork I missed, right?” You punch him in the shoulder playfully, which might’ve knocked the wind out of him had it been aimed any closer at his sternum. “I think we have almost all the same teachers. And I'm a quick learner, so it won't be so bad for you."

“Fine,” he says with a faux reluctance that would really only be convincing to a child, “I can walk you home.” 

“Haha,” and you punch his shoulder again, soothing it this time with a pat before you trail your hand up to the side of his neck, clasping the side of it with your warm palm, like you’re holding his pulse in your hand, and Dan Heng holds his breath so you won’t easily feel the rapid thump of blood underneath his skin, “maybe next time, champ.” 

You’re smiling again, laughing when you look at the paling expression on his face, like you know something he doesn’t, and he barely has time to feel disappointed at your easy rejection before you laugh, breathy, one more time, and say goodbye. 

(Himeko, to Dan Heng’s utter misery, hounds him for “details, the whole story, what did they say, Heng?!” the second he steps into the threshold of his house, keys still dangling from his hand. Terrible, awful, miserable. He does in fact, tell her everything.)

[goldfades]

PLEASEEE write about devin booker taking care of drunk reader at a party + after the party 🙏🏼🙏🏼

this might be my new fav concept... nba men taking care of reader when she's drunk<3

There was always an after.

After the lights dimmed, after the music lost its edge, after the laughter turned softer and the crowd started to thin. After the high of the night settled into something quieter, something heavier, something that clung to the air like the last note of a song still humming against the walls.

And for Devin, after looked a lot like this.

Standing in the lobby of the Four Seasons, a glass award still tucked under his arm from the NBA Players Association Awards—one of those league events that was equal parts networking and celebration—and you, draped against his side, barefoot, because your heels were dangling from his fingers.

“You’re gonna regret this tomorrow,” he murmured, watching as you swayed slightly, blinking up at him like he had just spoken another language.

You let out a slow exhale, eyes half-lidded with sleepiness, head tilting lazily against his shoulder. “Regret what?”

“This.” He gestured vaguely at you, at the undone straps of your dress, the way your jewelry was tangled against your skin, the way your lipstick was slightly smudged from too many cocktails sipped too quickly.

You made a face. “I’m fine.”

“You’re drunk.”

You considered that, pursing your lips before nodding. “Yeah. Maybe.”

Devin sighed, adjusting his hold on you as you leaned into him, the warmth of your body pressing against his side. He could feel your heartbeat—steady, slow, a little sleepy.

“You had fun, though,” he pointed out, because even though he knew you were about thirty seconds away from passing out, there was still a lazy grin playing at your lips.

“So much fun,” you confirmed, looping your arms around his waist as if you were about to just take a nap right there in the middle of the lobby.

Devin huffed out a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “Alright, come on.”

He adjusted his grip on you, slipping an arm beneath your legs before you could protest, scooping you up effortlessly.

You gasped, then burst into a sleepy giggle. “Devin!”

“What?” he said, already heading toward the elevator, still carrying your heels in one hand while holding you steady with the other.

“You did not have to carry me.”

“Tell that to the people who would’ve had to watch you trip all the way up to our room.”

You pouted, resting your cheek against his shoulder, eyes fluttering shut for a moment. “You’re annoying.”

“And you’re lucky I like you.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you murmured, voice softer now, sleep tugging at the edges. “I know.”

And Devin just shook his head, pressing the elevator button, knowing full well you wouldn’t even remember half of this by morning.

But that was fine.

Because there was always an after—and for him, it looked a lot like making sure you never had to worry about a thing.

The elevator doors slid open with a quiet chime, and Devin stepped inside, shifting you slightly in his arms to hit the button for your floor. You made a small noise of protest at the movement, tucking yourself deeper against his chest like he was your personal pillow.

“I can walk, you know,” you mumbled, though you made absolutely no effort to leave his hold.

Devin scoffed, adjusting his grip on your legs. “Yeah? You sure about that?”

You hummed, lifting your head just enough to give him a look—or at least, you tried to. It was more of a sleepy, unfocused blink that made him smirk.

“I mean it, Book,” you huffed. “I’m perfectly capable of—”

Right as you started to shift, one of your hands slipping from his shoulder, Devin let you down just a fraction so your toes touched the ground.

And instantly—instantly—your knees wobbled.

Before you could even think about face-planting onto the expensive marble tile, Devin caught you, one strong arm steadying your waist as you gasped dramatically.

“Oh my god,” you breathed, gripping his bicep for dear life.

“Exactly.” His voice was smug. “And you were saying?”

“…Nothing,” you muttered, dropping your forehead against his shoulder in defeat.

Devin chuckled, shaking his head before effortlessly lifting you back into his arms. “That’s what I thought.”

The elevator started to move, the soft hum of the machinery the only sound filling the space for a moment. You let out a small sigh, curling into him like you had fully accepted your fate.

“I think I had, like, six margaritas.”

Devin raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, no shit.”

“Like really good margaritas,” you continued, completely ignoring him. “Like, the kind that taste like juice, but then bam—they hit you.”

Devin smirked. “They did hit you.”

You frowned slightly, tracing a lazy pattern against his chest with one finger. “Wait… what event was this again?”

He snorted. “You’re kidding.”

“I swear I knew earlier,” you insisted, lifting your head to look at him again. “But then—margaritas.”

Devin shook his head, amused. “NBA Players Association Awards.”

Your mouth formed an oh, like the memory was slooowly filtering back in. “Did you win something?”

He gave you a look. “You were literally there when I accepted it.”

“Yeah, but—” You squinted at him. “Was I drunk at that point?”

“…Fair point.”

You hummed, pleased with yourself. “What was the award?”

Devin sighed. “Most Respected Player.”

Your lips stretched into a lazy grin. “Oh, so you’re like, nice and stuff?”

He rolled his eyes. “Something like that.”

“Wouldn’t know it from the way you just dragged me for almost falling.”

Devin chuckled. “You did almost wipe out.”

You gasped. “Wow. No sympathy? At all?”

“None.”

You pouted dramatically before sighing, your body going limp again as you nestled back into him. “S’okay. I forgive you.”

Devin fought back a smile. “Appreciate that.”

The elevator dinged as it reached your floor, and Devin carried you out, adjusting his grip on your heels so he could grab the key card from his pocket.

“You’re very strong, you know that?”

Devin chuckled. “I hope so.”

“Like… you’re carrying me like I weigh nothing.”

“You don’t.”

“But you make it seem like I do,” you continued, as if he hadn’t spoken. “Like, what if I just stayed here forever? What if I refused to get down?”

He swiped the key card, the green light blinking as the door clicked open. “Guess I’d be stuck with you.”

You gasped, dramatically clutching your chest. “Would that be so bad?”

Devin smirked as he stepped inside, kicking the door shut behind him. “That depends. Are you gonna complain the whole time?”

You let out a soft tsk, shaking your head. “No faith in me at all.”

He walked over to the bed, finally setting you down gently against the mattress. You immediately sprawled out, stretching your arms above your head with a deep sigh.

“This bed feels amazing,” you mumbled, eyes already drifting shut.

Devin rolled his eyes, crouching down in front of you to undo the straps of your dress heels. “I should make you sleep in these just to teach you a lesson.”

“You would not,” you said, horrified.

He slid one off, then the other, tossing them aside before resting his elbows on his knees, looking up at you. “No, but I should.”

You stuck your tongue out at him.

Devin just smirked, reaching over to grab a bottle of water from the nightstand before nudging your arm with it. “Here.”

You groaned dramatically, burying your face into the comforter. “Don’t want water.”

He rolled his eyes. “Well, you need water.”

You peeked at him from under your arm. “How do you know?”

“Because you had six margaritas.”

You squinted. “Five.”

Devin raised an eyebrow.

“…Maybe six.”

“Exactly.” He unscrewed the cap, pressing it into your hand. “Drink.”

You sighed, pushing yourself up into a sitting position before taking a long sip, making a bleh face as you swallowed.

Devin chuckled. “Drama queen.”

You ignored him, finishing the bottle before setting it down with a satisfied hum.

Then, suddenly, your eyes widened slightly.

“What?” Devin asked, noting the way you seemed… alarmed.

You reached out, gripping the front of his shirt. “Did I embarrass you?”

Devin blinked. “What?”

“Tonight,” you rushed out, tugging at his shirt like it was very important that he answer this right now. “Did I embarrass you?”

Devin stared at you, momentarily thrown by how serious you looked.

“No,” he said finally.

Your lips pressed together. “You hesitated.”

He let out a quiet laugh. “I didn’t hesitate.”

“You so did.”

Devin shook his head. “You were fine.”

Your grip on his shirt tightened. “Be honest, Devin.”

“I am,” he said, fighting a smile. “You were tipsy, yeah, but you weren’t that bad.”

You searched his face, eyes narrowed slightly. “You’re not just saying that?”

“Would I lie to you?”

“…Maybe.”

Devin chuckled, leaning in slightly. “If it makes you feel better, I think drunk you is kinda cute.”

You gasped, scandalized. “I am not cute right now.”

He smirked. “You definitely are.”

You flopped back onto the bed with a groan. “This is a disaster.”

Devin just shook his head, moving to grab a makeup wipe from the bathroom. “Come here.”

You peeked up at him, eyes wary. “For what?”

“Your makeup.”

You scrunched your nose. “I’ll do it in the morning.”

“You’ll regret that in the morning.”

You groaned again, sitting up and letting him gently wipe away the smudged remnants of your mascara.

As he worked, you studied his face, your expression softer now, like the exhaustion was finally settling in.

“Thanks, Dev.”

Devin glanced at you. “For what?”

You shrugged. “Taking care of me.”

He smirked, tossing the wipe in the trash before brushing his fingers lightly against your jaw.

“Always.”

And with that, he pulled the blanket over you, watching as you curled into the pillow, finally letting sleep pull you under.

And as he settled in beside you, feeling the warmth of your body against his, he realized—there were worse ways to end a night.

[staytinyzen]

Chapter 3: Esc

To all the boys I love | series masterlist

Previous | Chapter 3 | Next

Pairing : OT8 Idol! Ateez x gn Reader | Yunho x Reader

Warnings: none

wc: 857

Yunho is steady.

That’s one of the things you’ve always loved about him, the thing that made your hands shake when you wrote that letter. He's the kind of person who grounds you: warm, reliable, always finding joy in little things. Being around him feels like sunlight through a window: comforting, safe. That’s why you notice the shift.

It starts small. A pause in conversations. A glance that lingers too long. A smile that falters at the edges like he’s trying too hard to make it reach his eyes.

You tell yourself it’s nothing. Maybe he’s tired. Maybe practice is wearing on him more than usual. But then he stops texting good night. And that’s when it hits you. Yunho never doesn’t text good night. Not when he’s sick. Not when he’s traveling. Not even when he lost his phone for a full day (he borrowed someone else’s just to message you).

So when your screen stays blank for the third night in a row, the knot in your stomach tightens.

You’re sitting on the studio couch the next day, curled up with your hoodie sleeves over your hands, watching the others stretch and joke around before practice. You’re trying not to look for him. Really, you are.

But then he walks in. And your breath stutters in your chest.

Because Yunho looks at you.

And then looks away.

He talks to San. Laughs with Mingi. High-fives Yeosang. Walks right past you with a nod that feels like it’s missing something.

“Hey,” you say quietly when he brushes close enough.

He pauses mid-step. “Hey,” he says, voice light, too light. He doesn’t sit next to you like he usually would and your heart sinks.

You tell yourself not to spiral. You fail.

After practice, you linger. It’s instinct at this point, waiting for Yunho to walk you out like he always does, bag slung over his shoulder, offering to carry yours just because.

But he’s already by the door with Wooyoung, whispering something, and your chest tightens when he glances back at you.

Your name falls from his lips softly. “Hey. You heading home?”

You nod. “Yeah.”

He hesitates. Wooyoung gives him a look, something unreadable, and Yunho finally steps closer.

“I’ll walk you,” he says.

And the ache in your chest eases just a bit.

It’s quiet on the way out. The kind of quiet that feels too full, like static buzzing just beneath the surface. You keep waiting for him to say something. He doesn’t.

So you do.

“Did I… do something?”

He blinks, caught off guard. “What? No. Of course not.”

“You’ve been quiet,” you say. “Just felt… different lately.”

He exhales through his nose, glancing down at the pavement. “Yeah,” he says after a second. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to make you feel that way.”

“Is something wrong?”

Yunho doesn’t answer immediately. He stops walking, and you stop too, turning to face him. His hands are shoved in his pockets, shoulders tense. He won’t look at you.

“When were you gonna tell me?” he asks, voice low.

Your blood runs cold. “Tell you what?”

He finally meets your eyes. And there it is that flicker of hurt, soft and sharp all at once. “About the letter.”

Your mouth goes dry.

He knows.

He read it.

You want to ask how, when, why. You want to say it wasn’t meant for him to read, that you didn’t mean for any of them to be read. But none of those words come out.

“I didn’t—” you start, but your voice cracks and you have to swallow and start again. “It wasn’t meant to… be read. Not by anyone. I didn’t think—”

“I know,” he cuts in gently. “I know you didn’t mean for me to find it.”

You don’t know what to do with your hands, so you cross your arms, then uncross them. 

Silence. Heavy and awful.

“Was it all true?” he asks.

You look at him.

The question is quiet. It’s not accusing, just… curious. Careful. Scared.

And it breaks you a little.

You nod. “Yeah. It’s all true.”

He breathes in like he’s bracing for something. Then he nods too. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“I just… I didn’t know,” he says, eyes dropping again. “I didn’t know you felt that way. I thought it was just… a me thing.”

Your heart stumbles. “You…?”

He smiles, just barely. “Yeah. You aren’t the only one writing feelings down, y/n.”

Your breath catches. “Yunho…”

He shakes his head, stepping back. “Not now. I just needed to know if it was real.”

“It is.”

He nods like he’s trying to believe that it’s okay to believe you. “Then we’ll talk later. When my head’s not this much of a mess.”

You want to say something else. You don’t. He’s already turning to leave.

But before he disappears, he glances back over his shoulder.

“You write beautifully, by the way,” he says softly. “I kept reading it. Even when I told myself I shouldn’t.”

Then he’s gone.

And you’re left standing on the street with your heart in your throat and the second letter confirmed.

Two down.

Six more hearts waiting to break open.

Next

[marril96]

Mirrors

Chapter 3: Mended

Pairing: Agatha Harkness x reader

Summary: Agatha finally talks to you.

Editor: @fruityhahn

Previous chapter.

Agatha was awake.

The relief that flooded your veins was immense, overwhelming. A high you never wanted to come down from.

You didn't care that she was eavesdropping. Didn't care that she'd probably heard things she wasn't supposed to.

Right now, all that mattered was that she was conscious.

"Hey, you," you said sweetly, lovingly. One of your hands was still on her cheek, the other tangled in her hair. "Rest well?"

"As well as one can on the ground."

It wasn't like there were many options. The Road didn't leave you much to work with; a conjured up fire, her coat as a blanket, and your lap as a pillow was the best that you could do under the circumstances. Beggars couldn't be choosers.

"Not all of you is on the ground," you pointed out, brushing your knuckles against her cheek in a playful caress.

"Aren't I lucky?" she quipped with a scoff.

You rolled your eyes. If you didn't know any better — if you didn't know her — you would be offended. She was just messing with you, just trying to rile you up. Why show appreciation when she could put up a bitchy front?

With a heavy grunt, her left arm (the one she'd been lying on) holding her up for support, Agatha rolled onto her back.

"You shouldn't move around too much," you told her. She seemed to have regained some of her strength, but she was still pale, still cold as an iceberg. "You've lost a lot of blood. You should rest."

"I'll live," she said with a tad too much bite for someone who'd been so close to death — no pun intended.

"You almost didn't."

Tears burned your eyes; you swallowed, willing them back. You weren't going to cry. You weren't going to do that to yourself again.

Just breathe, you reminded yourself. In and out. Your girl was okay. She was her bitchy, cheeky self. She wasn't dead. She wasn't going to die — not today, anyway. As close a call as that was, it was in the past.

"Oh, please. That was nothing," Agatha said with feigned nonchalance that hurt just as much as it would if it was real. As if she felt nothing at all.

She used to be open with you. She used to let you in. She used to allow herself to be vulnerable with you; not always fully, but enough for you to drop everything and hold her for a few hours until she was okay again.

Then she'd walked out, and you hadn't followed, and all that trust you'd built over the centuries had vanished. Almost as if it had never been there at all.

Regret squeezed at your heart, cut in like a knife straight through your chest. Your hands felt sticky again, caked with blood. The metallic scent burned your nostrils. Scarlet stained Agatha's coat, so much of it that the mere sight made you queasy. Soaking through the fine fabric. Pouring out, out, out in an endless loop like rain draining from the sky.

"You almost bled out," you said, shaking your head in an attempt to banish the memory that kept taunting you, mocking you, pouring salt over a gaping, bleeding wound, much like the one that, mere hours ago, marred Agatha's side.

Much like the one that kept replaying before your eyes like a snuff film.

A tear broke free, then another, and another, dripping onto Agatha's face. What was the point of holding back? What was the point of trying?

Out of the two of you, you were always the first one to break. Why would this time be any different?

"I almost lost you." Your voice was shaky, breaking up with every letter, with every uttered word. "Again."

The first time had been your fault.

This time, it was all on her.

"You should've told me you got hurt."

You expected another uncaring response or a sarcastic remark. Instead, in her tenderest voice, she said, "You know why I didn't."

Because she'd convinced herself that she didn't need anyone.

Because she hated relying on people.

Because she didn't want anyone to see her at her most vulnerable.

Because…

You swallowed, long and hard. "Because you're pissed at me."

She said she didn't hate you, but that didn't mean she wasn't resentful. She'd lost three years of her life because of a misunderstanding. Because you had thought so little of her that you'd never even tried to look for her.

Who wouldn't be angry?

You certainly would.

You hated yourself for it enough for you both.

Agatha shook her head. "Because I knew you'd blame yourself."

"Don't make fun of me."

"I'm not." Her hands, cold as ice, squeezed yours. "I wouldn't."

"Yes, you would."

She had, in the past. It was to lighten the mood, but still.

Agatha Harkness was a known tease.

She sighed; you had her there. Then, softly, she repeated, "I'm not."

And, despite everything in you protesting, you believed her.

What reason would she have to lie? If she wanted to mock you, she would have done so openly. She wouldn't deny it. She wouldn't speak to you in the same tone she used when you had a bad day to promise you everything would be okay. She wouldn't look at you like she, herself, wanted to cry along with you.

She meant it — every word.

"You almost died," you said, a tad angrier than intended.

"That wasn't part of the plan."

"And what, pray tell, was the plan?"

"It was supposed to heal on its own."

This woman was going to be the end of you. "You're a fucking idiot."

"Hey, I can't always be the brains of this relationship. I need my scheduled downtime."

You playfully smacked her hand, which earned you a pout — one of her most adorable ones that she knew would make you melt.

"I hate you," you muttered.

Agatha chuckled, seeing right through your bullshit. "No, you don't."

Holding on to your leg for support, she propped herself up into a sitting position.

"Careful," you said, helping her lean against the tree beside you. It was far from a comfortable position, but it would do. It did for you.

"Honey, I'm not made of glass," Agatha quipped, then winked suggestively. "You can feel me up again if you don't believe me."

A rush of heat scorched your cheeks. "I wasn't feeling you up."

"Oh, no?"

"I was just…" Feeling her side to make sure her wound hadn't returned. It sounded ridiculous in your head; it would come across as even more so out loud. "It doesn't matter."

Instead of ridiculing you, as you expected, Agatha grabbed your hand and pressed it against her side. "See? All good. No need to go all mother hen."

You couldn't help it. When it came to her, concern came as naturally as breathing.

Agatha lived a dangerous life. She took unnecessary risks, crossed people — witches — that you wouldn't dare look at the wrong way. If she wanted something, she took it. If she had something to say, she made sure everyone heard her loud and clear.

Somebody had to look out for her.

Somebody had to care.

"Old habits die hard," you said casually, as if it were an obligation, a job.

In reality, it was everything but.

It was just another part of loving her.

"I'll say," she quipped.

"You know me."

You'd always had a protective streak. Some witches had taken to calling you a pitbull. Agatha didn't have to sic you on anyone; your instincts would urge you to attack, to eliminate any possible threat. To ensure her safety by any means necessary.

You'd taken many lives for her, and would take many more in a heartbeat.

Anyone that posed a threat to her was as good as dead.

The witch killer and her pitbull — her faithful bitch.

Agatha was yours to protect. Yours to care for. Yours to love.

Yours.

She — all of her; mind, body, and soul — belonged to you.

Just as you did to her.

"I do," Agatha said. "Which is why I knew you'd blame yourself."

Maybe so, but why shouldn't you? She had gotten injured protecting you. She'd almost lost her life defending yours.

You may not have been to blame, but some of the responsibility fell on your shoulders.

"It was my Trial," you told her, stubborn as a mule. Never one to back down.

"And my choice."

And she would do it again. The intense look in her eyes and the fervor in her tone said as much.

You weren't the only protective fool in this relationship.

"Right, because it was more practical to save me than to have to summon another backup witch," you echoed her words back at her.

Agatha shrugged, barely holding back a smile. "Exactly."

Lying through her teeth like she expected you to believe her yet fully aware of the fact that you weren't buying any of her shit.

Teen was right. You wouldn't be here if she didn't want you to be.

When she'd told you of her intention of restarting her Road con in order to replenish her power and you'd demanded to accompany her, she'd given in right away. Hell, she hadn't put in a fight at all.

Your intentions had been clear from the start — ensuring Agatha's safety, her wellbeing. If one of the witches had happened to reach for a weapon, you'd wanted to protect her. If the Salem Seven had happened to come for her earlier than expected, you'd wanted to fight for her.

Now that she was powerless, she needed someone to look out for her, to have her back.

You were more than happy to volunteer for the position.

It had, after all, been yours before.

"So… how much did you hear?" you asked.

The conversation you'd had with Teen had brought you some comfort. Say what you will about the kid; he was a good listener.

It felt good to let some of those pent up emotions out. To share your burdens with someone else. To be heard. To be listened to. To be understood.

To not be judged for you'd judged yourself for too damn long.

"Enough," Agatha said with a shrug. "You sure like spilling secrets."

"Not yours." You'd made sure to not cross that line. Had toed it, maybe, but didn't cross it. "I kept my word."

You wished you'd never given it.

The other witches should know about Nicky. They should know that the only reason he'd been allowed to live for as long as he had was that she'd begged Death to spare his life. That not a day passed that he didn't cross her mind.

As wicked as Agatha could be, she would have never hurt her son.

She loved him too much for that.

"I know you did," she said with a small nod.

"I needed to talk to someone."

Because you don't want to.

You'd tried to broach the subject countless times to no avail. Something always came up. Something was always more urgent, more important.

"I never said we couldn't talk," Agatha said.

You couldn't hold back a cynical snort. "Could've fooled me."

"Things have been so hectic and—"

"Save it, Agatha. You're avoiding it like you avoid everything else."

She looked away, avoiding your gaze. Avoiding the truth staring her right in the face.

"Listen, you… you don't have to forgive me." The words hurt; a knife straight through the heart. "I know I fucked up. I should've looked for you, and I didn't."

Your inaction would haunt you for the rest of your life.

Agatha was alone, in pain, trapped in her own mind, and you were none the wiser. Instead of looking for her, you were pitying yourself. Crying your eyes out night after night in your half-empty bed, wishing her side of it wasn't a block of ice. Wishing she would walk back in anytime now and say that she was sorry.

Not even considering that there would come a day when you would be sorry.

"Nothing I say is ever gonna change that."

Sorry wouldn't take away the trauma that had been inflicted on her. It wouldn't take away the hurt that she was feeling, the torment that she had been through.

Words could do a lot, but they couldn't undo the damage that actions — or lack thereof, in this case — had caused.

"Just, please, know that I mean it. I truly am sorry." You wiped your tear-filled eyes with the back of your hand. "Don't forgive me. But, please, believe me."

"I believed you the first time you said it," Agatha said with a smile, squeezing your linked hands. An emphasis on her words. An assurance that what you were hearing was real, that you weren't stuck in a dream or lost in a daydream. "And I forgave you right after."

Your heart just about stopped.

She believed you.

She forgave you.

As cold and detached as she'd been since your reunion, she didn't think you a monster. She didn't think you unworthy of being in her life.

She'd meant what she'd said — she didn't hate you.

Your eyes fell to your hands. Agatha's fingers were wrapped around yours almost protectively, as if frightened to let go. As if, if she were to release you, she would never get to touch you again. As if you were to vanish into a puff of smoke at any moment now and she would be alone all over again, this time for the rest of her long, long life.

"Then why were you acting like you hated me?"

"I was angry. I wanted…"

It didn't take a genius to know what it was that she was so reluctant to admit. "You wanted to hurt me."

Agatha gave the smallest of nods. She had the decency to look ashamed.

It took everything in you to restrain a scream that threatened to tear from your mouth. Acid nibbled at your throat like shards of glass, singing it, shredding it to bits. Your heart was in pieces, a porcelain tipped over the edge, shattered beyond repair.

"You're the one who left," you reminded her, a part of you itching to give back as good as you got, to hurt her as much as she hurt you. To make her feel what you were feeling, and more; so much more. "You didn't tell me what you were planning to do."

"I didn't exactly plan it." She shrugged. "I needed a distraction. It presented itself."

"It was a stupid thing to do."

"You think?"

You shot her a look.

Agatha pursed her lips, feigning nonchalance. "We weren't on speaking terms."

Yeah. You supposed you weren't.

If she had reached out, what would you have done?

Would you have gone to Westview with her? Would she have wanted you to? Would she have let you?

Would you have tried to stop her from going?

Would that have only made the fight worse?

"Are you still angry?" you asked tentatively, a part of you dreading the answer, wishing the earth would open up and swallow you whole before the response could find you.

Agatha smirked. Playful. Conniving. "I'm always angry."

You glared at her with the intensity of a livewire, a clear threat. You weren't in the mood for games. Not now. Not after what she said, what she admitted she wanted to do.

She cleared her throat. "No." Her freezing hand cupped your cheek. You didn't have it in you to pull back, to shove her away. "You didn't deserve that."

No, you didn't.

"If I knew what happened, I would've come for you."

You knew what mind control spells, like the one that she'd been under, did to people. What damage they left in their wake. The kind of pain long term exposure inflicted upon the mind. No matter how angry you were, how much you were reeling from the fight the two of you had had, you never would have let Agatha suffer. One inkling, and you would have been there in a heartbeat.

"I know," Agatha said in her smallest voice.

You sniffled. "You can't keep punishing me for things I didn't do."

"I know."

"It's not fair."

"I know that, Y/N."

"Do you, really?"

"Yes." Then, so soft you could barely hear it, "Yes. I do."

She pressed her forehead to yours, a block of ice against your warm skin. Even so, you leaned into her, welcoming the touch. Welcoming the tenderness with which she radiated even through the harshness of her confession.

"I'm sorry, my love."

Agatha was baring her soul to you, exposed, vulnerable. A prey animal baring her neck to a predator.

It would be so easy to crush her. To shove her away and tell her to go to hell. To tell her her mother had been right — she was unlovable, worthy of nothing but scorn and condemnation. To make her hurt hundreds of times as much as you were hurting.

She was giving you an opportunity to even things out. A part of her may even think she deserved it following her poor treatment of you, especially now that she'd listened in on your conversation with Teen. She was welcoming the penance, however harsh. However much you wanted it to hurt.

Still, despite her words ripping you apart, you didn't have it in you to stab her in the heart and twist the knife.

With a tired sigh, you said, "I know you are, Agatha."

And, like a fool, you forgave her.

Like many of your decisions — many of your actions — when it came to her, you couldn't not forgive her.

Old habits died hard.

The woman could set you on fire, and a part of you would find a way to look past it.

You ran your finger across her icy cheek, the softest, tenderest caress, a wordless acceptance of her apology. "You can be such a bitch, you know that?"

Agatha chuckled. "Would you prefer me kept in line?"

"I'd settle for you communicating."

A small, stifling pause broke out.

She took in a breath. "That's never been my strong suit, has it?"

"Nope."

Understatement of the century.

"I can do better. I can be better." It was raw, straight from the heart. A promise that she vowed to make good on.

"All I ask is that you try."

Agatha was far from perfect. She would make mistakes. She would push you away and shut down like she always did. She would say and do things to get back at you for a perceived slight, and would stubbornly refuse to address whatever it was she convinced herself was wrong.

Habits nursed through centuries didn't disappear overnight.

True, genuine progress took time.

What mattered most was commitment.

One couldn't stumble if they never took a step forward.

"I will," Agatha said. "I promise."

You pulled back and held up a hand in an attempt to lighten the somber mood. "Pinky swear?"

She stared, incredulous. Her eyebrows flicked up like you'd grown a second head right before her eyes and she wasn't certain how to broach the subject.

You thought she was going to laugh in your face.

Instead, she linked her pinky with yours. "It's like dating a middle schooler."

Pot, meet kettle.

You quirked up an eyebrow, hoping your face didn't give out the excitement that bloomed inside you, a geyser about to burst under pressure. "Dating?"

Agatha shrugged, putting on a mask of nonchalance, of sheer disinterest. "Don't you want to pick up where we left off?"

There was nothing in the world you wanted more. "Of course I do."

"Then what's the problem?"

"I need a moment to process everything."

Being around her was one thing. To be with her again, to be hers — it was something you thought you would never get to experience again.

You thought you'd lost her forever. That, when she'd walked out the door three years ago and had — you'd thought — cut all contact with you, you'd never get to see her again. That you were nothing more than a blemish on her shoe; easy to wipe off and forget about as if you'd never existed.

And here she was now, inviting you back into her life with open arms as if nothing had ever happened. As if, in your anger, you hadn't thought the worst. As if she hadn't tried to get back at you for having abandoned her.

Grabbing your chin, Agatha pressed her mouth to yours. Yet another thing you thought you would never get to experience again. You gave yourself over to her, allowed her to devour you, to swallow you whole. To remind you of everything you'd both been missing for three impossibly long years.

"Still processing?" she asked as you parted, lips curling into a teasing smirk.

Your mouth was tingling, begging for more. Aching to feel her again. "Getting there."

"Mmm."

Agatha suddenly made a grimace, then wrapped her arms around herself.

"You cold?"

"Mmhmm."

"That would be the blood loss, sweetie."

You opened your arms, and, as if led by instinct, she instantly nestled into them and leaned her head against your shoulder. She allowed you to pull her discarded coat up, pressing her knees to her chest as you draped it over her like a blanket.

"You should eat something," you told her, cradling her to you like a child.

Even marble cold, having her so close felt comfy, safe. Like home.

It felt right.

"I'm good."

"I'll go ask—"

"No! Stay. Please."

The tender pleading in her voice broke your heart.

She knew damn well you could never fight her when she spoke to you like that.

"Okay."

"Good girl," she cooed; music to your ears.

"I'll stay however long you want me to, as long as you do the same."

As long as she didn't storm out again.

As long as you didn't have to spend countless nights crying yourself to sleep, wondering where she was. Wondering if she'd replaced you like you'd suspected.

Agatha was quick to respond. "I promise."

You believed her.

Promises, she always kept.

"Then, so do I," you said, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

You both made good on it.

*****

Tags: @werewolfbarbie @miss-moon-guardian @hermslore @uniquelesbianidiot @natashamaximoff1 @alsoknownasmel @swan-queen-is-magic @tardisesandtitans @ahintofchaos @fruityhahn @midnight-lestrange @lift-heavy-be-gay @katieswain123 @riovidalharkness @revleftshark @lexp17 @starbucks-06

[pieisstillgood]

══⊱≼Forbidden Pursuits≽⊰══

━━⊱♡⊰━━

Summary: An unlikely friendship sparks between Draco and a Gryffindor reader. Over the summer, he invites you over with a few other friends. You see his father in some compromising positions late at night and are left feeling guilty and conflicted.

Author's note: I will also be uploading my fics on Ao3 if you prefer to read there. I upload there after I upload here, I will include a link once it is up there. I hope ya'll enjoy <3

☆Here is the link to it on Ao3☆

Shout out to my beta reader @crimkayz <3 love you pookie

Content warning: Sexual content, masturbation, Voyeurism, F/M

━━⊱♡⊰━━

I’ve known of Draco for years. It’s hard not to when he is so vocal about his hatred for my house and all who were sorted into it. Last year, however, we became unlikely friends. After a quidditch game gone wrong, he was left injured and in need of someone to carry him to the infirmary. The Slytherins on his team aren’t kind enough for such an act, and the Gryffindors all hold a grudge against him, so no one was rushing to volunteer. I rolled my eyes and reluctantly took on the role. I expected the walk to be quiet except for his usual whining, but he surprised me with a charming enough conversation. We became fast friends after that, although it was a strange sight.

 Friends enough that he invited me over for a stay during the summer at Malfoy Manor. Apparently, he invites a handful of his friends from Hogwarts over for a getaway before the next school year starts. I’d be the first that isn’t a Slytherin to be invited, which I suspect to be a point of contention with some of the guests and maybe his parents. Although, I doubt it will matter as much as my blood status. I wonder if they will beat around the bush or ask me directly. It’s likely they already interrogated Draco about the status of all his guests if I am being realistic. They don’t seem the type to be inviting over anyone they deem ‘less than’.

When I arrive at Malfoy Manor, I make sure to take in its grandeur when exiting my carriage. I’ve lost count of the expensive homes I’ve been to in my life, but this takes the cake. The architecture alone exudes status and a foreboding atmosphere. When I was younger, my parents tried to stress the importance of making connections and going to high-status events, but after a while, I wore them down enough to stop forcing me to go. I found them incredibly boring and a waste of my time if my parents were to already be there chatting to high society. The consequence being that not many people know that they have a daughter my age.

Draco rushes over to give me a hand stepping out of the carriage. I notice a few other carriages pulled over to the side while their bags are being collected by servants and taken inside. I'm glad I’m not the first to arrive, and it seems that I am not the last if my count is correct. “Who’s missing?” I jest towards Draco as I find my footing on solid ground, and he releases my hand. “Pansy and Blaise have yet to arrive.” He eagerly replies. I can tell that he hopes his friends will become my friends after this weekend, but I have serious doubts. “You know Pansy will be last; she can’t resist the idea of everyone waiting for her to make a grand entrance,” I joke into Draco’s ear, not wanting anyone to hear my joke at the other guests’ expense. He hummed in amusement and agreement. I feel as though he was about to add onto my assumption, but we were entering the manor now, and it is not a good look. 

I want to make a good first impression, not only so that me and Draco can continue being friends, but also because I cannot bring any kind of dishonour to my family name. I would never hear the end of it from my parents otherwise. His parents are standing in the foyer with equally unimpressed expressions resting on their faces. His father is standing straight and impervious. His robes are elegant and dark, his large hands wrap around the snake head of his cane, the expensive looking rings on his fingers accentuate the veins of his hands. He is taller than me, with gorgeous long snowy hair, you can tell it is well kept, it looks soft to touch and makes me long to feel its soft caress. He emanates an intimidating energy around him as he looms. His wife is leaning away from him slightly, easily missed, but the expression on her face cements the idea that she would rather not be standing here next to him in my mind. 

They both put on impressively fake smiles when our approach becomes known. I curtsey, saying the usual pleasantries and thank yous. The interaction was stiff and uncomfortable. Behind their formalities was an underlying disinterest from the wife and a piercing gaze that felt like it could read my very soul from the husband. In high society it is impolite for a gentleman to not greet a lady with chaste kiss on her hand, but that seems to be something this man deems to be too lowly for him. Draco directed me to my room to get unpacked as I try to shake the awkward interaction. 

It was already later in the day when I arrived at the manor; the sky starting to bleed a deep cornflower. From light to dark, the gradient carved its way across the horizon until it was void of color entirely. When Pansy finally arrived, last as predicted, we gathered for a late dinner. The table is long and imposing, the dramatic nature of this seating arrangement is not lost on me as dark theatrical shadows are cast across the room from the candle lighting. I can’t tell if it is supposed to be menacing or romantic. 

I haven’t said much to anyone except for Draco since arriving. I am more content in taking in the dynamic I find myself in for now. I don’t know anyone here but Draco, so I don’t know how to talk to anyone but Draco. My eyes stayed down, looking at the expensive meal that graced our plates. Crabbe and Goyle lack the manners and restraint to take their time and savor such an opportunity. Scarffing down their meals like they’d starve without it. Everyone was much more casual about the food before them, everyone but the head of the table. His bites almost seemed calculated, like the sawing of his knife was used to enunciate his point, and the stabbing of his fork was to drive home his frustrations.  

Everything about him felt measured. From his movements to his words. He steered the conversation to whatever subject he found interesting with smoothness and ease. It was as if he was changing the channel and our chatter his entertainment. Pansy was in the middle of a tirade I wasn’t paying particular attention to. She was complaining as usual. “Those loud Gryffindors don’t know when to shut up. I swear they win one game and it’s all anyone talks about!” I’m sure she would prefer it if everyone spent their time talking about her. I hold back a scoff and an eyeroll at her dramatics. It takes everything in me to hold my tongue and not retort back; I’m trying to be on my best behavior after all. 

Lucius, I think his name is, replies to Pansy in agreement. “Yes, I’ve found that those in that house lack a certain… humility.” I can feel his pointed glance in my direction without having to look up. My eyes rise from their downward position as I give Draco a sideways glance, as if to say, did I hear that right? He looks at me almost pleadingly to not say anything, but it is too late as I lose my restraint. “That’s rich coming from the man who raised Icarus over there.” I gesture to Draco as I engage in the glaring contest initiated by his father.

Contempt was the only motivation in my glower. His held something more I couldn’t read. He seems to be always calculating, always analyzing. For a moment, the table waits with bated breath, wondering if my stay at Malfoy Manor will be shorter than expected. A small smirk plays on his lips; I can hear Draco let out a sigh of relief as his father apparently found my comment amusing. 

“Oh yes, we all heard about Draco’s little fall last year.” He looks on teasingly at Draco as he takes a sip from his wine glass. His metal rings make a small tink at the contact. “You must be the Gryffindor who walked him to the infirmary?” His eyes return to me with a raised eyebrow. “More like carried him, but all the same, yes,” I confirm while also taking a turn to tease Draco a bit. Small smirks played on both of our lips before the conversation continued, with the rest of the table finally chiming in.

When dinner was over, Draco led the five of us to one of the many lounges in Malfoy Manor so we could shoot the wind without an authority figure around.  As time went on, I found myself almost enjoying the company of Draco’s friends. Pansy is bossy, Blaise thinks he is better than everyone, and well Crabbe and Goyle are what they are, but from time to time, I find that they can be agreeable and even funny. We all spent a few hours chatting together until, one by one, everyone made their leave for the night. When I left, Blaise and Draco were all that remained, and even they looked like they were about to fall asleep on the very chairs they sat upon.

On my way to my room, I decided to make a pit stop in the kitchen for a glass of water. The sight before me makes me freeze in my tracks. I can’t bring myself to move from the kitchen doorway. Lucius Malfoy is standing before me in the dimly lit room with his back facing me, in only a towel. Candlelight dances across his pale flesh, left with a pink dusting brought on by what I assume to be a scalding shower. His hair is soaked and sticks to his admittedly toned back. A water droplet rolls down from his locks over the curve of his back, until it hits and gets absorbed into the low hanging towel wrapped around his waist. 

His hands are gripping the edge of the kitchen sink as he leans slightly over the counter, just enough to arch his back faintly, with his shoulder blades tense and prominent. He is soaked head to toe, he must’ve barely toweled himself off before exiting the bathroom to head to the kitchen. I can see his huffy reflection in the window as everything outside is dark and opaque. 

His expression is burdened and serious. A few wet strands of hair fall onto his face; his eyes are closed as he thinks about whatever is troubling him. His pectorals are pushed together just so, making them more plush. The counter cuts off the view of his lower abdomen, but I can see a peak of a happy trail centered by the symmetrical curves of the v-line that adorn his hips. He let out a low, displeased groan before slicking back the offending strands in his face. His eyes open as he stares at his reflection. It almost feels like he is staring straight into my very being, like I am the one exposed and bare to the world and not him. 

I force myself to finally remove myself from my spot in the doorway and go back to my room. My inner wants compelled me to stay and gawk some more, but my better judgment took my hand and peeled me from my position. My mind continued to wander and race even late into the night when I should’ve been sleeping. Slumber did eventually take me, but it was not very restful. It wasn’t until the morning that a truly horrifying thought crossed my mind. If I could see his reflection, then he surely could see mine. 

~~~

I didn’t see her reflection at first, blending into the shadows of the hallway. Once I saw her, however, I couldn’t look away. Her form leans against the doorframe to support her weight. The skirt she is wearing is long, but so is the slit running up its side, allowing her leg to taunt me as it stands out, exposed. Her top is as tantalizing as the rest of her, the thin straps leaving her shoulders on display, and the semi-low cut of her neckline makes me yearn for a better view of what it is hiding from me. She is possessed by a hungry expression, like a lion about to pounce on its prey. After a moment, she is gone, and I am left wondering what would have happened if I had said something. 

~~~

The thought of going downstairs and eating breakfast with everyone there made me lose my appetite immediately. I couldn’t stomach the idea of sitting at the same table as him and his wife after seeing him in such a state of undress. I don’t know how I am meant to face Draco after witnessing his father’s astounding physique. I close my eyes and am met with vivid visions of Lucius Malfoy practically naked and drenched.  

When Draco comes to collect us for breakfast I tell him I’m gonna sleep in and skip it. It is not too unusual for me to skip breakfast if I was up late the night before, so he has no reason to be suspicious of the act. A few hours later I convinced myself that it was likely that he didn’t even see me in the doorway last night, and the only one aware of my new confliction is me. I joined Draco and his friends for the rest of the day. 

They seem more accustomed to my additional company today, so I felt more comfortable to tease and converse in return. My biting and witty remarks are met with loud, boisterous laughter, which is always what I crave, being able to banter without worrying about hurt feelings or overstepping. Every once in a while, his father would come by to have a word with Draco; I could feel all I had to say die in my throat whenever he approached. I couldn’t bring myself to speak even if I was talking to someone else when he got close. Mostly, I was able to avoid him altogether, so it wasn’t much of a problem.  

Honestly, today went better than expected. Pansy and I did have a bit of a spat, but she didn’t hurt my feelings all that much. Everything she said were all things I already knew she thought about me, so I wasn’t shocked to hear it out loud. I figured I’d give her some time and space to cool down, so I am going to bed. 

Or at least I am trying to; I got a bit lost when finding my room in such a big manor. One wrong turn and all I encounter are offices and libraries. Up ahead, I see presumably another office door cracked open, but this one has a flicker of light shining through. Hopefully, I can ask whoever is inside for directions, no matter how embarrassing. When I got closer to the doorway, the sight and sound of what I was observing completely captivated me. 

Reminiscent to the night before, I am thoroughly stuck in place, not able to draw my eyes away.  There he sits… His head thrown backwards, Adam's apple bobbing up and down with every moan and groan that passes his swollen lips. His side profile is on full display as he gets to work in his office chair. His hair tied in a messy bun, loose strands sticking to his forehead, making him look wild and disheveled. His mouth hangs open in desperation, longing to crash his lips against another's. Drool collects in the corner of his mouth before descending down his neck. 

The view of his glistening chest is unobscured due to his dress shirt being unbuttoned and hanging loose at his sides. He works with unrestrained fervor as he pumps his length with his massive hands. Rings missing from the hand at work as they lay on the desk before him. His other hand remains wearing his rings as he violently grips the arm of the chair. The veins in his hand and arms straining from the pressure. 

His trousers are still on, like he lost his patience and ripped them open, not bothering to take them off. His broad thighs are spread apart, pulling the fabric of his tight-looking dress pants. I find myself fantasizing about him enveloping my head with them. A heat rises within me that I have yet to gather enough sense to feel ashamed of. The sight of him rubbing his cockhead until completion makes me long to participate. He’s panting, breathing ragged with half lidded eyes as ribbons of cum coat his hand and abdomen. A pink tint compliments his face. He is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever laid eyes on. I could drink in the sight for ages, but I know the longer I stand here, the more likely I’ll be seen. 

I should go. Not just from this spot in the hallway but from the manor itself. Now rushing down the corridors until I find my room; the realization of what I’ve done has hit me tenfold. There is no way I can spend any more time here with a vision like that haunting me. He is my friend's father! Worst of all, he is married! I am wracked with guilt for wanting him in any way that isn’t appropriate for a man of his standing. 

I barely slept that night; my thoughts and dreams were filled with his glorious apparition. My desire to have him in this very bed torments me. I roll over and imagine the pillow beneath me as his chest; I roll again, and suddenly, the blanket’s weight is his own as he covers me in his hold. I can’t help but see and feel him in everything I do, and I only get more and more bothered.  

~~~

I had almost forgotten her starved expression in the kitchen the night before if it wasn’t for her lack of presence at breakfast this morning. I would be lying if I said I wasn’t a bit disappointed to see that she wasn’t there. Her boldness at dinner was… intriguing, to say the least. I had hoped she'd have more snarky comments to bestow upon me this morning, but she was nowhere to be found. Draco said that she had stayed up too late the previous night and wanted to sleep in. I wonder what had her so… restless?

When she finally decided to grace us all with her presence, it was hours later, and breakfast was long over. She descended the staircase in a deliciously felicitous dress. Likely worn to combat the summer heat, but it only brought on a different heat entirely. I watched as Blaise led her to where the others were waiting for her in the other room. I went back to reading the book I was previously occupying myself with, but focus was hard to come by as I read and re-read the same line of ink again and again. Something about their interaction irked me; I just couldn’t place why. 

Throughout the day, I found it increasingly difficult to keep my distance from Draco’s new friend; making excuses to talk with Draco so that I could see her. Whenever I got close, her boisterous personality dimmed and quieted. It was mesmerising to witness, as her witty remarks halted in their tracks and her eyes rapidly reverted from me. It was a striking contrast to her unabashed staring last night; the only similarity was the rosy hue lighting her cheeks. 

It took everything in me to not pounce on her when she was in my view, to not tease her uncharacteristic meekness in front of all her little friends. I decided it was better to hide myself away in my office than lose my self-restraint in front of a crowd. The sun has set, and I am sure most are asleep anyway. I need a release, or I worry I might do something rash. 

I rip my clothes open, discarding anything in my way. I am quick to take a seat and fondle myself at the thought of her. My eyes screw shut as I try to picture the ravenous passion she exuded, standing in that doorway. My lips have started to swell from biting down on them. I stroke myself harder as thoughts of her fill my mind and fantasies.  

My head lolls to the side, and through half-lidded eyes, I swear I can see her standing before me. She looks more flustered than the night before; her thighs rubbing together for some relief. Her eyes are blown, and she looks like she is a breath away from taking a bite of me. Not that I’d mind. I am unsure if her presence is tangible or delirium. I can’t bring myself to care, as I only feel more invigorated to complete what I’ve started. The sight of her watching me is enough to send me twitching over the edge. My moans get louder as I convulse, bucking into my hand until I get off. Warm, viscous liquid covers my hand and stomach as I catch my breath. 

The bewitching vision in the corridor was gone, rushing from my view. So I didn’t imagine her after all. I wanted to chase after her, but my legs were still weak and quivering. I am resigned to speaking to her tomorrow, for I might not make it up the stairs in such a state of exhaustion. 

~~~

When the sun rose, so did I. I sent for a carriage to take me away as fast as possible. Draco must’ve woken from the sound of me exiting my room, because he was there when I returned to pack my bag, begging me to reconsider. “Pansy crossed a line the other day, I admit that, but don’t let her bad mouth cut your stay short.” In all honesty, I don't even really remember what Pansy even said to me, but it would be better for him to think I’m leaving because of her and not the actual reason. I look at him with sincerity before replying, “It’s okay, Draco. Your friends don’t have to be my friends, but I think it would be best for all parties involved if I left.” He looks like he wants to protest more, but instead lets out a defeated sigh. 

“I’ll let you know when your coach is here.” With that, he turns to let me pack and makes his leave. I made quick work, not wanting to stay a second longer in fear of running into his father. It took only a few flicks of my wand to have everything placed where it should be inside my suitcase. My back is to the door when I hear it glide open, and a rich voice fills what was briefly my room. 

“Departing so soon?” My head turns to the doorframe with haste. Panic fills me as my heart plumits to my stomach. The very man I was trying to avoid is leaning in the entryway with a quirked brow in my direction. Of course, he knows I am leaving. Draco must’ve woken him, as it is customary for a host to see all their guests when they leave. Although, he looks a bit too put together for someone who was just awoken. How long has he been up? 

My breath is caught in my throat as my words struggle to free themselves from my nerves. “I-I apologize for taking my leave at such an hour, but something has come up, and I am needed at home.” I lie through my teeth. It would be rude to insinuate that I am leaving due to another guest, and I can never tell him the true reason for me going away. In every gap in conversation and every breath between words, I find myself panicking and overthinking about the possibility of him seeing me intruding on him. I am calmed by the knowledge that if he had seen me, he wouldn’t be so calm, and he certainly wouldn’t just continue letting me oggle at him.  

He compels himself from his position, with just a few leisurely strides, he is standing before me, albeit a little too close. I can’t read his face, it just holds the same calculating look as before. Like I am something to examine. “No need to apologize, dear… I hope I didn’t do anything to offend. As a host, it is my duty to see to it that all my guests are… comfortable.” His words are drawn out, as he uses a hand to raise my chin with a light touch. I can feel my face getting warm at the proximity, but I shake the notion before replying. “No, no, I assure you, you did nothing to offend Mr. Malfo-” “Please… call me Lucius.” His interjection was smooth, and I could think of no reason not to comply with his request. “You did nothing to offend, Lucius.” His name felt odd on my tongue. I feel as though I am breaking some kind of rule. It held a weight that I wasn’t sure how to feel about yet. 

“I am glad to hear that. It was a pleasure to have you here, despite how quickly you flee.” I am now painfully aware that he has not moved his hand from my face; his thumb slightly tracing my bottom lip as he speaks. His eyes glittered with amusement and perhaps something else. My heart is certainly racing, but all I can feel is his touch on my skin. “It is likely I will be back in the future with how much Draco asks me.” 

He hums in amusement, chuckling inwardly, as if to a joke only he heard. “I look forward to your future visits then.” I could’ve sworn his gaze flickered down to my lips at that moment. But perhaps I am just seeing what I want to. “Draco speaks very highly of you.” It was added on at the end, like a poorly crafted excuse for his anticipation. I am shocked that Draco would speak of me at all to his parents. I clear my throat, hoping I didn’t lose my ability to speak. “I could say the same to you. He speaks of you often.” His father is Draco’s greatest pride. That is why I feel a well of guilt filling my guts at the fact that I want to kiss him so depravedly.

A beat passes as we stand there, staring at each other. His hand practically cupping my face. Draco calls from the bottom of the stairs that my ride is here. Lucius looks annoyed as he turns his head to the door to respond. “Tell them she’s coming!” One inscrutable look was exchanged for another. This one is less kind looking. His hand leaves me. I feel almost cold without his touch. He gives me one more once-over before turning to leave. “I’ll see you downstairs.” His tone is sterner than before, like he is mad at me for leaving. I decide I am reading too much into things, I doubt he even cares that one of Draco’s friends is leaving early. He is just being polite. Though some of his actions bordered on inappropriate rather than polite. 

My exit was swift, and so were my goodbyes. Draco and his father seemed to be the only ones awake at this hour, so they were the only ones to see me off. I didn’t particularly care for the other guests, so I wasn’t too torn up at not saying goodbye. I gave Lucius a curtsy and Draco a hug before exiting the manor. If I were to humor myself and see things that weren’t there, I would’ve sworn I saw Lucius clench his jaw and avert his eyes when I was hugging Draco. I think it might be best for me if I never visit Malfoy Manor again. This trip has made my self-indulgent delusions run wild.

[biyahthor]

Meeting: Vin Jin

Preview: after entering j high, one day she noticed someone familiar.

This is delicious, I thought to myself as I ate some sandwich I bought, a new item at the store.

As I walked down the halls, I hear some noises and took a peak and saw someone getting bullied. 3 vs 1, not cool.

"you'll never be singer you fat punk"

The shades guy then kicked him by the stomach, his expression in pain.

This feels frustrating to watch.

"hey, it's not cool to gang up who even isn't your level"

"what did you say?"

One of the guys comes forward and tries to touch me, so kicked him and punch the other, taking down easily and leaving the shades guy left.

"just because of their appearance, doesn't mean that they don't have potential, so don't assume easily, shades"

"shades?"

The guy said and approached me face to face as I point out what he's wearing.

"isn't obvious, you're wearing one and it's not even sunny here, what are you, some kind of celebrity star?"

"well what if I am?"

"well you're the worse of the worse star I ever met, piece of shit"

His expression became annoyed because of the way I talked and he was about to grab me. Before he could, I did what Mary noona did.

Flip him to the ground hard in 2 seconds, one for grabbing and two for fucking throw him to the ground, which I did it, too hard than expected.

Ah shit.

I even crack the floor and his glasses, seeing him now barely conscious, I pulled him aside in an empty classroom and glance at the fatty.

"keep quiet ok?"

"ye-yes, thank you for saving me"

He then left and I watched him disappear from my sight. I know his familiar but I don't remember his name.

But anyways let's hide the dead bo— I mean, the fainted bodies.

.

.

.

I dragged them in an empty classroom and sat on the floor as I look at the shaded guy, now his shades broken. I tried putting back on but useless.

So I waited for them to wake up. So I decided to game while I wait for them to wake up and if they try to beat me again, I promise, I'll leave them somewhere they can get lost.

.

.

.

The first one to woke up is one of his gang, then the other. They both immediately left, not wanting to mess with me further and leaving this dude behind.

Later, I saw him waking, I glance up at him and my eyes wide open what I saw.....two eye cores.....in one eye.

The guy stir awake, he tries to fix his glances, only to realize they're not there and looked at me with shock and disbelief.

"you—"

"Vin Jin.....you're vin Jin right?”

I guessed, making him suprised again and confirmed as he stood up. I did the same.

"yeah that's me, what about it you little—"

"seokji yuk..."

The name alone made his expression shocked of how I knew the name. So I was right, this guy is....

"how do you know?"

He asks in disbelief as I try to chill him down

"hold on, I can explain, I know him"

"how, do you know him?"

Vin Jin steps forward, trying to intimidate me as I back against the wall.

"I met him through my sister..."

"your sister? What's gotta do with your fucking sister?"

I sigh, hesitant as I look up at him. The air bit chilly in the empty dim classroom.

"seongjik oppa and my noona, they're both..."

When I told the reason, his eyes went wide. He thinks I'm joking but the second he looks at me again, I can see he was starting to believe.

"you're her sister?"

"yeah, I'm her sister, believe it or not I am, I'm not that known since my sister kept it a secret, no one knows...yet"

.

.

.

We both stand together beside the vending machine as I hand him some soda can and for myself.

"no wonder your moves were familiar earlier, that was Mary's move"

"she taught me when I lived a few weeks in cheonliang before I moved to Seoul as my sister's request"

"can't believe your siblings, she's cool and while you're..."

He looks at me with shaded glasses again, he had extra. But I can tell what he's thinking, making me annoyed as I gulp a drink.

"yeah I'm more quiet and bland so what?”

"nothing, just unbelievable for a girl that cool is your sis—pwah!"

I punched him, making him choke and cough out the drink.

I drank the last of my side and throw it out.

"don't be so assuming, punk shades"

"that name again?"

"more suiting"

I tell and was about to walk away but stopped just to say this.

"your eyes look cool by the way, don't cover it"

I turn to him and saw him paused and stiff. Heh? Nani? What happened to him?

He gulped down all the soda and threw it away, frustrated and flustered.

"shut up you little....ugh just shut up....I didn't get you name you dipshit, tell me"

I sighed heavily, now face to face at him, my hair swayed with the air. My eyes meet his.

"call me y/n, that's all, bye"

I then walk away leaving him, only hearing his reply with a scoff amusement and mocked me.

"what a lame name, queen nonchalant"

[illuminakisser]

EVERYTHING WE KNOW ABOUT THE PHIGHTING APRIL FOOLS TOWER AS OF NOW, THIS WILL BE UPDATED AS MORE INFO IS DISCOVERED OR MORE THEORIES ARE MADE.

ok info about whats theorized to be medkits nightmare GO

Title of game : . (its a period)

Icon is the same as base game, background is the default one

The music playing is just overtime slowed down by a lot

1. MAP

You spawn on a road with sidewalks that have candles, you have a lantern in your inventory.

As you walk you will occasionally see an exit sign.

Halfway, pillars stretch up from the ground, most are normal but some are shaped like hands that reach to the sky. On top of the hands are weird figures with glowing green eyes and horns that look like something from the flaming horns series?

(thats the closest thing i could find,,,)

At the end of the road is the default Happy Home, though with minor modifications. An exit sign is right at the stairs and pointing at the door. Tube tvs are inside the home, a giant one at the middle against the wall with two stacks of tvs in the corners. The left side has one tv off, while the others are full of red static. They don't do anything when interacted with.

Note: This sorta resembles the thumbnail for scythe's teaser.

They also look like the TVs in broker's secret room (i reached the image limit so cant show ough)

Outside to the left and on top of the house are the same weird green eyed figures.

2. DIALOGUE

There are many figures running around saying various phrases,

phrases that ive seen:

"Help!"

"you traitor"

"do something"

"be useful"

"please help me"

"Useless support"

"Help me!"

"help"

"please just heal me"

"Please heal me"

"How's your eye?" (Idk if this is random dialogue or subspace dialogue)

Though, some of these figures are saying things from medkit ally dialogue.

Ingame dialogue phrases:

"Do I really want to work with a rebel on my team?" - Banhammer

"Hey!! Great seeing you!!" - Subspace

"How's that eye doing??" - Subspace

3. THE OVERSEER NEXTBOT OR SOMETHING IDK

You are chased by an overseer eye, it can't be stopped permanently. Though, it can be halted by positioning yourself in the right area, however, it has good pathing and can jump extremely high, so you can't hide from it.

Getting caught by it results in an image showing up on the screen, this rewards you a badge the first time you see it.

Random note: the eye is weirdly clean? im not sure if its medkit's eye or not since I remember soda saying that subspace just threw the eye away,, (not sure if this is still canon)

After this you get kicked from the game with the message "You must kill him to become him."

The interesting thing is that this is the description of the overseer eye cosmetic.

This probably means something like "you must kill overseer to become him" or something but what does that mean who is killing overseer huh what

↑ ok theories have been made (thank u discord user ankles0560 for the medkit part)

The one killing him might be either medkit or katana.

KATANA : there is dialogue between katana and ban hammer

Ban Hammer: "You can't get involved with the business of the dudes higher up." Katana: "And who will stop me?"

↑ I will expand on this later but im eepy rn help

MEDKIT : ok the whole thing is about Medkit so the kick message is probably the overseer eye talking to Medkit,,

Soda has said that if Katana knew more about Medkit, he would kill him. This could mean multiple things but very interesting hm

Another interesting thing is the jumpscare noise, it is a jumpscare noise used in old games.

The interesting part is what it is, the noise is actually the sound of the subspace tripmine slowed down, whether this was just coincidence or because of the subspace thing is unknown, it might even be both?

EXTRA . CHURCH OF THE TRUE EYE INFO

Not really related to the tower but just what we know about the cult

A religious group within lost temple, not everybody from lost temple is a member of it.

It is mentioned in Medkit's phone dialogue.

Every member of the cult is missing an eye.

Soda has mentioned that the reason why Sword's eye isn't missing is because he wasn't born in lost temple.

CORRECTION: Sword was born in lost temple, but wasn't raised in it. The point still stands that this is the reason why he hasn't lost an eye.

Based on dialogue between medkit and banhammer, it has been around for a while now. (THANK YOU FOR TELLING ME)

It is unknown what the goals or structure of the cult are currently.

They have a uniform, Medkit, Scythe, and Broker share the motif of outfits of mostly teal.

Scythe calls Vine Staff "blessed" in her dialogue with her, this is related to the cult somehow since in the same conversation Vine says "No! You and your creepy family can buzz off!"

^ According to broker, her curse is rare but she isn't the first one to have it.

They call themselves a family, and call Overseer their Father.

Overseer info:

There is barely any, but this is what we know.

They are referred to as a leader, it is unknown whether they are the faction leader or just the cult leader.

Scythe refers to him as a deity, whether they truly are one, manipulated the cult into believing they are, or the cult simply calls him a deity is unknown.

An alternative is that she isn't talking about overseer here at all, though if that is so we don't know if she's talking about a sfoth deity or a different one. ← if it is a sfoth deity, it is most likely to be darkheart or venomshank (or maybe even ghostwalker? idk)

btw soda said this. soda wdym

Feel free to add more info or things i missed/got wrong in reblogs or comments!!

pls do say more info if you have it im making this based on what the guys im theorizing with are saying i didnt have time to do more than 1 playthrough

[voidcat]

– call it fate, call it karma

characters: mithrun of the house of kerensil, elf!sorcerer!reader

notes: hello! another fic of mine that rqures a note bc once again i got too impatient. i fear it may not make much sense without the rest. this is originally the first of a 3-part work. because this is a mithrun fic, it has possible spoilers for dunmeshi, especially mithrun, so if you're an anime only, this is your warning. this takes place before the dungeon chapter of mithrun. reader is an elf. there is subtle looking down on southern lands/deeming them as inferior from mithrun's perspective- in dnd, magic users vary and how theyve acquired thier way of casting spells:) a sorcerer is p much "born to it" / in their blood. its not smt theyve studied like a wizard. thank you for reading!

i.

On a breezy day in the southern side, Mithrun, formerly of the house Kerensil, now of canaries, finds himself lost in the cobblestoned streets.

The sun shines bright above his head, creating a makeshift halo on top of his head; the weather has just begun to warm up, he thinks to himself, maybe in small moments such as this, the sun is on his side.

Unlike the lands he is familiar with, the sun is harsher here, the people mixed, one big pot of cultures and species, a stew of life and history; it's what the southern lands are often preferred for, the easier access to various branches of fields and of people. right under one's fingertips, at every five steps one takes.

Though the canaries have graced the place with their presence, it is not a matter to be fretting about. the dungeon roaming side of things almost fall unimportant this time, hence he growing worry he feels within his body as he tries and tries each street entrance he sees, but to no avail, unable to find his way to the palace grounds– taking a look at the horizon, it might be possible he has found a way to stray further away from it even.

The streets well donned with signs as they may be, they are but a book to a blind man when you haven’t got the slightest idea of the city. And so Mithrun finds himself looking around cluelessly, trying not to allow the situation to take its toll on him; keep your head up, chin high, here returns the smile bright enough to light up countless possible suitors’ lives, he takes a step, turns 180 degrees and begins to walk again, back into the crowd that is gathering with each passing minute.

Everyone seems to be in their small little world, preoccupied with those accompanying them. The sun burns bright, few gulls fly by as they greet the cityfolk with their shrieks. Only a few people look up to greet the birds, the kids waving their hands as they jump in the air. He sees a baby trying to grab one of them, a hard task to accomplish from where they lay. A kobold waving its tail eagerly, as if the scene never gets old for him.

The breeze carries the scent of seafoam and Mithrun begins to notice a slight shift in the crowd. With each step, the nonsense chatter of the people begin to change, slowly taken over by what he can guess to be vendors and the like. The strolling rhythm of the people soon replaced by hurried steps and a faster pace of liveliness in the streets. The cobblestones beneath his feet a tad shinier and worn out, he assumes this must be some point of transaction.

Standing where he is, he tries spotting the rough estimation toward the palace, deciding a route for himself from then on. 

The swarm of people suddenly increases, the volume with them as well, and in about five minutes, it all dies down.

It is the instant loss of sound that first draws his attention and Mithrun finds himself unable to hide the surprise on his face. Lips slightly parted, he can taste the air growing lighter with the little amount of people in its vicinity. Forgetting his main task at hand, he looks around, left and right, a tad surprised, a tad observing the place, spotting more and more differences it holds compared to the other streets he has passed thus far.

Mostly vendors selling drinks or tools one might require at the last minute, shops that reek of ink and freshly published books, buy one get the second frog for half the price– do not miss this deal of a– “hello… anyone the–” a foreign voice cuts his thoughts in the middle.

What was it he was reading again? Some nonsense bargain to quickly sell leftover produ–? His thoughts come to a halt when his mind finally registers the foreign voice to be still talking, and presumably its owner waving a hand into his face.

“Ah, there you are! Sir, are you alright?” the voice gets clearer with each syllable, as does his view. 

Before him, stands an elf, no older than him for sure but with a doubt in the back of his mind. If there is one thing he has noticed, it is the southern continent elfs, at least the ones of this city all look remarkably young, younger than their northern siblings for sure; big curious eyes, bright skins glistening under the sun. probably just a side effect of the climate, and perhaps the result of a more leisure life. Starvation is never a thought in the back of one’s mind, causing stress with the passing days when there is no risk of all your crops freezing overnight. 

You could toss the seed of a fruit you ate as you walk, and find it growing into a tree in few years time, he has overheard people say about the lands here before. Fertile lands, rich in culture and nutrients.

“Aah,” your wondering sound draws his attention back on you, “are you lost? Do you need help?”

His lucky hours indeed, he thinks.

With a chuckle, he closes his eyes, bringing a hand to the back of his hand, “ah, is it that obvious?” he asks in a manner others often find shy and friendly.

With a hum, you seem to weigh your answers. “Yes and no.” you say, “if that’s what you’re worried about!” you add as an afterthought.

Then it must be the clothes that gave him away. He finds it odd that someone this far away from the palace recognizes the canaries’ uniforms but apparently possible.

As if reading his mind, you speak “I’m used to people asking for directions. I usually run into people who lost their way here.” with a smile as if sharing some sort of joke, or a secret with him. Maybe the occurrence has happened so frequently you just find it amusing at this point, accepting your fate as it is.

“So, where were you going?” you inquire. “The palace.” he answers curtly.

At his response, your eyes seem to gleam, who knows what it is you have found amusing this time– he begins to wonder if it’d be safer to get directions from a nearby vendor.

“I’m headed around that way too! Come on, just follow me.” you take off before the last word leaves your mouth. Quick, long steps, you create a gap between the two of you before he can catch onto the development of events.

With quick strides, he catches up to you easily, calculating if he keeps the same pace, he will be ahead of you, and lost again, soon, so he slows down, letting his eyes roam.

You walk in rhythm, as if using a song to keep yourself and your steps even. Eyes locked up ahead, only drifting when you pass by a reflecting surface, you seem focused, probably walked the same path countless times before, and become a guide many times as well.

After passing several buildings, the architecture of the city seems ordinary now, the general theme and style making itself apparent with its bronze and corals, warm and earthly tones. He muses whether to hold a conversation be wiser or not.

“So…” he begins as to signal the beginning of a conversation. “Are you a voluntary guide or mandatory?”  

You chuckle at his question and steal a glance his way: “hard to believe but by pure coincidence and luck every single time.” 

“How come?” how often would it have to happen for you to say it like this? “More than I would like to count. And not even mentioning the ones i try to avoid.”

“Such as?..” He lets the question hang. “Ah, just those who are clearly locals but refuse to read the signs right behind them.” you say. 

Suddenly you bring your hands in front of you like those extinct birds, eyes rolled, mimics overly exaggerated “‘How can i get to X street?’. You pitch your voice in a sudden “We ARE in X street! How could you have gotten here without knowing!” you raise your tone, sounding exhausted. 

As quick as you were to make gestures, you drop your arms in front of you as if they are not extensions but just sacks attached to you.

He finds himself giggling at the display. So dramatic.

At his reaction, you gather yourself again and remain your initial self. “You don’t believe me, do you…” you fake a pout. “Well, no matter! I don’t lose anything at the end of the da– cat!” before you finish your word, he watches you rush to your new subject of attention a little ahead of you too.

At the horizon, he sees the palace getting bigger and bigger. As quick as you were to dash, you return just as swiftly.

The walk continues steadily. Was it not for the sun slowly making rounds, its rays shifting the color of the walls, Mithrun wouldn’t have noticed time passing by. You don’t ask much about him, most likely out of respect for a stranger, but still talking nonetheless, pointing at things here and there, giving random information about whatever it is you are showing– be it a concrete part of the city or just a random flower by a windowsill.

The general theme of the streets begin to shift again, foretold by the overtaking scent of something sweet, salty and yeast-y. Up ahead, he can hear the growing chatter of the people once more. 

“From then on, you should just walk straight ahead until you are at a crossroads. Then take a right and keep walking straight until you spot the gates.” you to him and say. So you part ways here, he thinks, recalling what you’ve said earlier when you’ve met.

“I’ve gotta do a quick run somewhere, I walk fast so chances are I will be by your side in no time but if i don’t, and you get lost, you can ask around anyone here now.” you add on as to assure him. What a sense of duty for someone you’ve just met… if this is how you are with everyone you give directions to, then you should be really looking out for yourself.

Yet it is a refreshing reminder, Mithrun finds, that there are still those with innocence and good will, no hidden agendas or the like.

Repeating what you’ve just told him in his head, Mithrun gives you a nod and a formal thanks. Watching as your steps fasten ahead and to the left of the street. So you do walk faster, what a city in hurry with its people, no wonder the cobblestones all look worn out and polished.

As he walks by people, he overhears the time, ease taking over him to know he is not late to anything yet.

The source of the pleasant scent shows itself in the guise of a street lined with bakeries and small market places brimming with freshly picked fruit.

The city gains a different wave of life in this particular street– people more at ease, a perfect representation of the leisurely image they have for themselves. Not a care, not a single worry in the world, a safe haven to live and spend the end of your days.

Among the chatter, his ears pick up on familiar footsteps and he finds himself side by side with you once more. Such a hurry for a lazy city…

Too enamored with the box you now have in your hands, you don’t seem to notice him– or even if you do, you make a good job of hiding it.

It doesn’t hurt to have a companion for the remainder of the path as well, and so he calls out to you “it seems fate allowed us to meet again.” he says with a smile, receiving one in return after you wipe off the short lived expression of surprise on your face.

“Someone was afraid of getting lost again, I see.” you claim playfully.

Putting away the box to a bag, you let it dangle slightly with your steps and refocus your attention back on the road and on Mithrun.

Just as you said, at crossroads the two of you make a right, the sign there only showing the palace ahead.

Well maintained soil and flowers take over the road, adding a faint fragrance to the air.

Each step closer to the gates and with nothing else in the perimeter for you to have gone, Mithrun begins to wonder whether you are prolonging your route for the sake of him or not. 

Only for you both to walk past the gates of the palace; one guard checking his identity and another yours; only for you to carry on walking with him, your end destination revealing itself to be the same as his since the beginning.

At the steps he can hear his teammates' voices in the distance and in the blink of an eye one of the fairies approaches him. Casting a glance at you, and seeing you’re away from the hearing range, attention already elsewhere, he is informed their meeting isn’t until another hour and he can wait wherever he wishes, as long as he arrives prior to 10 minutes.

Bidding the fairy goodbye, he walks up to where you stand, hearing a disappointed sound coming from you at the sight of a butterfly taking off as he arrives.

Noticing his presence when his shadow casts over you, you turn to look up and meet his gaze. “You’re still here?” you sound surprised.

He settles for a shrug, “it seems I have another hour to kill.” 

You seem to be contemplating something, eyes going between the main entrance and him, the entrance and the benches by the gardens– “oh i know!” you sound excited. “How about I give you a reading!” you say more than ask, leaving him no choice but to comply. You seem too excited to be turning down any ways, and so Mithrun finds himself following after you once more.

The palace gardens are wide, starting from the gates and, if the palace plans are like any other, spreading all the across the palace itself, a section of a greenhouse somewhere, a labyrinth of bushes and trees in the back; so much green and so much land, it is impressive how well maintained it is even from the looks of what Mithrun can assume to be the epilogue of the real thing. That’s the thing with southern cultures, as leisure and fertile as they come, theirs is a lifestyle devoted to luxury as well, in all the slight, hidden ways. Hectares and hectares of land worth more than measly chandeliers made of gold. They need constant attending to, care, resources and whatnot.

You walk ahead and settle for a bench made of stone, no different than the ones you have passed along the way, save for the shade falling over its space. Seeing you sit at one end, Mithrun copies your act, the bench itself is long enough for more than three people in regular wear to fit, and wide enough that he cannot sit all the way back. Seeing you positioning yourself sideways, he pauses and lets his eyes wander over the garden section you are at.

Not too far away from the gates but not too out in the open, a decent distance away from every direction one may need to, it mustn’t be the first time you had to kill time here. He wonders whatever is happening that postponed their meeting is the same thing that has you waiting outside all by yourself.

The sound of something dropped onto the bench draws him out of his thoughts followed by the sounds of rummaging through what one assumes to be a bag. Turning to sit sideways like you did, he looks down to spot a box on the middle of the surface. Recognizing it as the box that came into your possession after you first parted ways, his eyes look up, watching as you have one in a bag, your cast upwards, tongue almost sticking out, painting one of those comical poses.

“Found it!” you exclaim more to yourself in victory and redirect your attention to him, only to find him looking back, seeming surprised to realize he was watching you the whole time. Seeing the clueless expression on your face, as if you have no idea what to do or how to live with your shame now, he tilts his head to the side and giggles at your demeanor. Only a few deep breaths later and with his nonchalant reaction do you return to normal, blink a few times then remember what it was you were looking for this whole time.

“Here! Let me do a reading for you.” you say rather excitedly, and yet again, excitement seems to be a part of your nature from his observations so far. “A… reading?” Mithrun sounds confused, he titled the other way this time.

“Yes!” you say as you begin to shuffle the cards. “It’s a relationship reading technically, but a harmless way to pass time that my friends and i often do.” you explain.

Looking down at the cards in your hands, he first notes how worn out they are, like everything else in this city. Then seeing the reds and blacks, as well as the symbols, he finds it odd it’s a simple deck of playing cards. Fortune tellings and readings done with cards often use special decks like tarot after all. The cards don't glide off of each other like a professional deck should, a side effect to their age, but it doesn’t seem to bother you once a bit, your fingers make it work smoothly. Either you must have done more readings than you let on– which he doesn't find plausible, as you sounded a little inexperienced and unsure, or that the cards were passed down to you from someone else. Or you have been introduced to gambling at extremely young ages, which should be more than alarming in his eyes. 

What too much free time brings to lives, it seems. In the northern cities, you don’t have the time nor the luxury to learn to gamble unless you have a life that doesn’t worry about survival. Partially true for his case, he muses, you are either too busy surviving or busy ruling, in charge of something bigger to not have any time left for such petty things.

Suddenly your hands come to a halt and your gaze finds his. “Alright, so, any other na–” you stop mid sentence. “My apologies, I never got your name.” you say sheepishly, waiting.

“Mithrun,” he says, “of the house of Kerensil.” he watches for any sign of recognition in your eyes but to no avail. At most, you seem to ponder in your head ‘where was this name familiar from’, but you don’t seem to know of them, and he cannot blame you, there are many noble families and people often aren't acquainted with them unless they are from the same vicinity. 

Giving him a nod, you test his name on your lips, dragging the syllables, your gaze cast upwards again, then turn back to look at him in a sudden you seem content, you introduce yourself as well.

You place the deck between the two of you almost in a slam and look at him again. Mithrun’s eyes land on the deck, then to your face and back at the deck again, waiting for your instructions.

“You can cut the deck.” you say and watch as he does carefully, a perfect half. Placing the bottom half on top of the top, you hold and right as you are about to pull a card, you notice the box that’s been sitting there this whole time. 

With the back of your hand, you push the box towards him, earning another confused look from Mithrun. Placing the deck, you undo the ribbon at top and open, revealing its content with a sudden burst of the scent of that busy street. “I had purchased extra to share with and to snack later on.” you say, not sparing the pastries a glance. “You can have some.” you urge him to try one. 

Fingers carefully dipped into the box, Mithrun grabs one of the long pastries and brings it out, ‘an eclair, huh’ he recognizes the small sweet to be. Though unlike the classical ones he has come across, this one contains red cubes of something within the cream, cut up strawberries, he assumes; and biting into the pastry, his assumptions are proved correct as he lets the taste linger on his senses.

Seeing him eat and display a face of pleasure, you seem content as well and begin to count each letter of his name, placing seven cards separately, their backs facing the sun. just as he wonders if this was it, you repeat the action, creating seven piles of cards until the deck ends. When you have no more cards to deal, you grab one of the stacked groups and deal them again, and again and again, until you have no more cards to deal, until there are only two piles left. Just as you did when he cut the deck, you place one on top of the other and put all the cards, backs facing the sun.

Just as he thinks, ‘so, this was it?’ you pull the cards from the deck and place them side by side, repeating the process until there are no cards left in your hands. Unlike your dealing and shuffling, you do this part a little slower, he examines. He can see you pull the cards at the top and bottom. Face concentrated, you gather the pile of cards back into a deck and start over. “Anyone in your life, or a certain someone in your mind?” you ask, eyes finding his.

His mind goes to his beloved at your question, but he chooses to be silent. “My cards are rather old, and I don't like to make mistakes.” you say, not allowing for silence to gather. “So when I pull the two cards, I pull each one separately. My friend pulls both with only two fingers rather smoothly actually, hers is much more pleasant to watch.” so you did notice him observing after all. Pulling and placing another couple of cards, you suddenly stop and place them to the other side, away from the pile. He shouldn’t be guilty of observing though, when you are doing all the work and the other party has no choice but to wait, one either talks or watches, no inbetween. 

He watches as your hand quickly places another double to the side, a few spaces later and another one again. So this is how it is, he thinks, as you gather the deck one last time and repeat the process a third time.

When finished, you spread the remaining cards in a line and quickly count the amount or pairs, tell him to pick the same count of cards. Staring at the cards laid down before him, Mithrun picks each card carefully, reaching them out to you face down, as you take each and place it on top of an existing pair. When he picks the last one, you speak up: “now pick three more.”

He recalls what he heard from the others before regarding cards and readings, dont think too much, pick quickly. His hand goes on its own and he picks the first card; “you” the card taken from his hand and placed down, your voice fills the air. His hand darts to another card, and you take it from him in no time; “the other party.”. There is something in the way you started speaking that gives him an odd feeling. Without looking, he picks his final card and holds it out for you to take, “your future.” you simply say.

Flipping the cards on top of the doubles, you stay silent for a while, looking at each card and muttering something to yourself.

Then with a sudden clap of your hands, you look up. “alright, so!” you begin, waiting just to make sure you have his attention on you, “this is mostly a silly thing we use to pass the time and there is no guarantee the cards say the absolute truth. With some of us, the readings made no sense until the reader and the one being read got to know each other and became friends.” you ramble off, “although, with some people I later grew to be friends with, I got their latest relationship right in the cards so… I suppose it’s a fifty-fifty situation, alright?” your rambling comes to a stop and you offer him a smile. Out of pity or some sort of consolation, he doesn't know. He didn’t watch carefully enough to learn how you opened the cards, so the possibility of giving him all the info you have on this is out the window too.

Flipping the remaining cards, you leave the last three and begin to tap on each couple plus singular piles of cards.

“Hmm… jealousy… trouble… the relationship card is there too but ah… could it be really yours?” you speak more to yourself than to him and Mithrun finds himself leaning in.

He doesn’t believe in such things like fortune telling, everyone decides their own fate, craft their lives with decisions they make. A random made up reading a stranger made for him out of nowhere won’t have an affect on him. But then again, his mind stops for a second, straightening up, he waits, still– he senses no mana in the air so even if you manage to get some things right regarding his life, it will be a lucky guess and no ruse, he thinks. 

For such leisure lives, one would expect people to use magic in their daily lives too, yet from all the minutes he has spent by your side so far, he hasn’t felt a drop of mana— so much so, the lack of it would be found eerie by other elves.

“It is a little vague but that’s what the last three are for.” you begin speaking. “So it goes like this: there is jealousy and yearning, an offer that will come with time and a relationship that has jealousy on it. There is trouble as well, with time– assuming the relationship is yours, a third person might cause trouble; but if it is not, then… well,” you pause, a sad look on your face, “I am sorry, I hope whatever happens works in your favor.” you say. As he begins connecting what you have said with his life, doing his best to keep his brother’s image away from his mind, you flip the three cards in order.

“Oh…” you sound upset, and a little surprised. So it is the latter, he gathers.

“I was hoping maybe the ‘offer’ card would come second here but i suppose not.” you say and show him the cards.

“You, jealousy; the other party, agape; and the future…” your brows furrow, “time.” 

Silence takes over the two of you for a while. Just the sound of leaves rustling with the breeze, some cicadas, and the birds in the distance communicating.

“Welp! As I said, sometimes when it’s a stranger, the reading itself makes no sense.” you speak up suddenly, bringing a hand to your hair, seeming apologetic. 

Gathering the cards together in one go, you collect them into a deck again and put away, avoiding Mithrun the whole time. Placed in their case and out of sight the traitorous cards are, your hand makes way for one of the pastries, carefully placing it between your fingers so as to not get any of the chocolate coating touching your skin. You bite into the small treat intently, careful not to have the cream filling overflowing.

“I hear footsteps, they must be finished inside.” you say as you take your last bite and nudge the box to him to take another one. Seeing as your offer will not end until he complies, he grabs another eclair and slowly munches on the pastry as you close the box and gather your belongings, preparing to take off.

“Do you remember the way back?” you ask, standing above him. When he replies with a nod, you let out a sigh. “Alright then, I will be taking my leave. It was my pleasure meeting you and making your acquaintance for the day!” and with it, you turn on your heels and walk just as you came, still fast and rhythmic; as if walking at a slower speed is physically impossible for you. With the eclair still in his hand, Mithrun sits a little longer, letting the breeze carry away all the thoughts your cards have brought him. Looking at you go, you never once turn back, odd, he thinks, you almost seemed the type to turn one last time and wave a hand.

[daitranscripts]

Cole Conversations

Companion Comments

Cole Masterpost

Dialogue options:

Cassandra [1]

Blackwall [2]

Iron Bull [3]

Dorian [4]

Solas [5]

Vivienne [6]

Varric [7]

Sera [8]

Leliana [9]

Josephine [10]

Cullen [11]

1 - Cassandra

Romanced Cole: Petals fall open as lips shape words that rhyme. Candlelight softens the edges.

Cassandra’s personal quest incomplete Cole: Stomach full of mantras, she burns like a beacon, Faith a flame to bring succor for a Seeker.

Cassandra’s personal quest complete Cole: Faith seeks a friend in Compassion, cautious, careful, too much grey but growing.

2 - Blackwall

Romanced He feels naked without the name on the armor, but now he knows you want him naked.

Blackwall’s personal quest incomplete An old name burns inside armor that shouldn't fit, lit by faces of the children he couldn't save.

Blackwall’s personal quest complete The name breaks free, pulls the pain with it. A black wall to shield the self when the sky is rainier.

3 - Iron Bull

Romanced Tied, but tenderly, loving in the letters of a word that would stop it, knots in satin scarves.

Personal quest active “The,” a joke. He laughs to himself, imagining herds of cattle in fields of iron, but now he worries it fits.

Personal quest complete, made Tal-Vashoth Salt-spray smell of Seheron. Lost in smoke from a burning ship. Guilt at not feeling guiltier.

Personal quest complete, sacrificed the Chargers Copper on the lips. Dalish lies dead-eyed beside me. He'll come, he'll call, he won't leave us. Horns pointing up.

4 - Dorian

Romanced Glittering to gloss a hidden hurt. Unlearning not to hope for more. Stumbling steps where the wall used to be.

Giselle gave letter, have not met Dorian’s father Bright, like the fish that kill you if you eat them. Can't hate you for hiding if you burn so brilliantly.

After meeting Dorian’s father He tried to melt a snowflake because he liked waterfalls. Swallowing bile and pride as he sees his son defend himself.

5 - Solas

Cole’s personal quest complete Voice ringing with fullness from both worlds, guiding me to the shining places. He calls himself Pride.

High approval, other conditions unknown Old pain, shadows forgotten from dreams too real. This side is slow and heavy, but here is what can change.

Personal quest completed Wisdom knows enduring is pain. He hurts for her, another of many he couldn't save. He carries necessary deaths.

6 - Vivienne

Personal quest not started A breath-caught smile from the Enchanter as the candle lights. The walls are safe; she will never be hungry again.

Personal quest completed A cold flame blazes in a robe worth more than children. Protect her, and she consumes you, burning because she can.

7 - Varric

Cole’s personal quest complete Kid, says the stone. Kid, kidding. It would keep me kept with a name, but the cairn can't catch me.

Hawke lives, other conditions unknown He writes words that aren't real, but they are for him, in a quiet place whose stone shape shakes the ground.

Hawke left in the Fade The stone is cracked, split, jagged. The hawk would have been safe if it had stayed, but that isn't what hawks do.

8 - Sera

Romanced Fleet-footed and free, the arrow that caught the miller's sack, but no longer shot alone, aquiver in a quiver.

Cole more human Shite. He's wrong. Dead-eyed crazy, shite. I called him a 'him'. Is he alive, is everything alive, shite. I hate raisins.

Cole more spirit She hurts, but helping hurts more. She sees the strings that pull me, eyes like raisins in a stale cookie.

9 - Leliana

Leliana’s personal quest not started The Left Hand remembers a knife slipped to her in the darkness, and wonders why the flower blooms.

Leliana hardened The Left Hand is harder, faith fallen in folly. It makes the dreams worse, but sends them away faster.

Leliana softened The Left Hand blooms on the bush, remembering the light that shone in her darkness. She knows how to sing again.

10 - Josephine

Romanced Steel flashes, like at the top of the stairs, but this time she knows her voice and it ends with a kiss.

Josephine’s personal quest started She spins, plucking strings, matching wits and words, an admiral who will never send ships of her own.

Josephine’s personal quest complete Ships launch on changing winds. Dizzy sometimes, like the top of the stairs, but sometimes like dancing.

11 - Cullen

Romanced Safe and solid, protecting and proud. He feels like quiet, stronger when you hold him.

Personal quest incomplete, talked about lyrium He is quiet, behind the noise. The little bottle makes him shake, but he tests the chains.

Continued lyrium He sounds right again with the chains in place, but the music makes him sad.

Quit lyrium He sounds new, echoes of laughter on an empty riverbed. Not for sailing, but safer.

[vex91]

Caught In the Middle

Chapter 1: First Day

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The Crazy Woman:

Don't forget to come after class and tell us everything about your first day Shortie <3

You scoffed at the message before replying.

You:

Rude much? I'll think about it

Stuffing your phone back in your pocket, you looked around the big Courtyard of Blue Ridge High - the Highschool you were starting attending from today on. It was stressful since you only knew 3 people here. Lily, Haewon and Kazuha. Lily as your older sister was one option to approach but you wanted to prove to her that you can survive Highschool on your own and running to her on the first day wouldn't be the smartest.

Haewon was a good option because she was always nice to you but she's best friends with Lily so automatically bad decision.

The only person left was Kazuha, your childhood best friend but to be completely honest you weren't sure where to find her and the school was incredibly big.

"There you are" You heard before an arm wrapped around your shoulders and your smiling childhood best friend face came into your view "I thought you were gonna be lost and I won't be able to help you on your first day" She laughed a little.

For someone who normally wasn't that big on talking to others, Kazuha sure was more than happy to always tease you no matter the time or the place.

"So you're gonna show me around I assume?"

"Yes. It was supposed to be Haewon but practice came up so she had to stay behind"

You looked at her confused "Aren't you in the soccer team too?" Kazuha laughed at that before answering.

"Yes but the Principal doesn't mind me skipping one morning practice. Haewon is a Captain so she can't skip it" Kazuha smiled, clearly more than happy to spend the morning with her best friends than practicing.

"Let's go"

She linked our arms together and pulled you towards the entrance.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The tour around the school was going great. Kazuha enthusiastically pulled you around the hallways, pointing out different clubs, cafeteria and bathrooms.

Just when she was about to show you where your first class was gonna be, you felt your body colliding with someone before you felt arms holding you in one place, saving you from falling to the ground.

Looking up you were met with eyes and a smile that screamed trouble for miles. The girl was much taller than you, from her untucked uniform that she definitely didn't care about fixing, you could see she was an upperclassmen - a second year just like Kazuha.

Before any of you could utter any words, you were pulled away from the taller girl and pushed behind Kazuha who's whole mood changed from happy and playful to serious as she gave the unknown girl a glare.

"Don't even think about it Yujin, she's off-limits"

"You can read minds now or something? I wanted to just ask newbie about her name and help her around a little" Yujin said but despite it being to Kazuha, her eyes kept shamelessly wandering to you.

"She doesn't need your help and I mean yours especially so don't try anything" Kazuha took your hand and pulled you away from a smirking Yujin who only turned around and waved at you.

"See you around newbie"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Masterlist / Next

Summary: Ahn Yujin, the charming and confident basketball team captain who is used to getting what she wants, meets a first year Y/N Morrow who for some reason refuses to let herself fall for Yujin's constant attempts at dating her. Things get more complicated when Y/N's older sister's best friend - Oh Haewon who is a soccer team captain also gets interested in a girl.

Taglist (Open): @1luvkarina @wintersgff @cwpiqwon @yuyuy90 @saysirhc @arihiu @minaripenguu @gtfoiydlyj