#or my thoughts behind it. whatever is interesting

[elryuse]

ANTHEM pt.5

MULTIPLE FEMALE IDOLS X MALE READER

Tags : Harem, Sedcution, Kissing, Public Sex, Multiple Female Love Interest

Words : 4, 197 Words

For The Other Parts Of My ANTHEM Series, Please Kindly Check Over Here

The morning sun filtered through the blinds of Y/n’s room, casting soft stripes of light across his face. He groaned softly, stretching his arms above his head as he woke up to another day in the whirlwind that was ANTHEM. The events of the previous night with Yujin still lingered in his mind, the memory of her laughter under the shower spray fresh and vivid. But before he could dwell on it too long, his phone buzzed on the nightstand.

He reached for it, squinting at the screen. A text from Chaewon lit up the display:

“Oppa, good morning! Are you free today? I need your help with something…please don’t say no~ 🥺”

Y/n sighed, running a hand through his messy hair. Chaewon had been acting… different lately. She’d always been cheeky and playful, but recently, she’d been leaning into him more during practice, finding excuses to touch his arm or steal glances at him when she thought he wasn’t looking. He couldn’t deny there was something magnetic about her—her sharp wit, the way her eyes sparkled when she teased him, the way she seemed to know exactly how to get under his skin. But after everything with Karina, Wonyoung, and Yujin, he wasn’t sure if he was ready for… whatever this was.

Still, he typed out a reply: “Sure, what do you need?”

Her response came almost instantly: “I’ll pick you up in 30 minutes. Wear something casual but not too casual. Oh, and bring your mask!”

Thirty minutes later, Y/n stood outside their dorm building, dressed in a simple hoodie and jeans, his mask already in place. A black SUV pulled up, and Chaewon leaned out the window, grinning mischievously. “Get in, oppa!”

As soon as he slid into the passenger seat, Chaewon handed him a pair of sunglasses. “Here, put these on too. We can’t have anyone recognizing us, right?”

“Where are we even going?” Y/n asked, adjusting the glasses on his face.

“It’s a surprise,” she said, her voice sing-song as she pulled away from the curb. “Relax, oppa. Don’t be so serious all the time.”

They drove in comfortable silence for a while, Chaewon occasionally humming along to the radio. Y/n couldn’t help but notice how effortlessly stylish she looked, even in her paparazzi-proof outfit of an oversized sweater, leggings, and sneakers. Her hair was tied up in a messy bun, with a few strands framing her face. She caught him looking and smirked. “See something you like?”

“Just wondering why you’re being so secretive,” he deflected, though his cheeks warmed under her teasing gaze.

Finally, they arrived at their destination: a small, brightly lit arcade tucked away in a quieter part of the city. The neon lights flashed against the windows, inviting them inside. Chaewon practically bounced out of the car, grabbing his hand as soon as he stepped out. “Come on, let’s go!”

Inside, the arcade was bustling with energy—the sounds of blaring game music, the clatter of tokens dropping into machines, and the excited shouts of players filled the air. Chaewon led him straight to the photobooth in the corner, its curtains slightly tattered but still colorful. “Let’s take some pictures!” she declared, already digging out a few coins.

“Chaewon, seriously?” Y/n laughed, shaking his head. “You dragged me all the way here for this?”

“Yes, seriously,” she replied, tugging him inside the booth. The space was tight, their bodies pressed together as she closed the curtain behind them. The screen flickered to life, displaying a countdown for the first photo.

Chaewon turned to him, her expression suddenly softer, more serious than he’d ever seen it. “Oppa,” she began, her voice low and quiet, “do you really not know why I wanted to come here with you?”

Y/n blinked, caught off guard by the shift in her tone. “Uh… because you like arcades?”

She rolled her eyes, but there was a faint smile playing on her lips. “No, dummy. Because I wanted to spend time alone with you. Just you and me.”

Before he could respond, the photobooth’s camera snapped the first picture. Chaewon quickly leaned in closer, her fingers brushing against his arm as she tilted her head toward him. The second flash went off. Y/n’s heart began to race, his breath hitching as she looked up at him through her lashes. “Chaewon…”

“Shh,” she whispered, her hand sliding up to cup his cheek. “Stop thinking so much, oppa. Just… feel.”

And then she kissed him.

It started soft, tentative—just the briefest brush of her lips against his. But when Y/n didn’t pull away, Chaewon deepened the kiss, her fingers tangling in his hair as she pressed closer. The world outside the photobooth faded away, leaving only the two of them and the sound of their mingled breaths. Y/n’s hands found her waist, pulling her tightly against him as he responded with equal fervor.

The camera flashed again, capturing the moment as Chaewon broke the kiss just long enough to whisper, “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that.”

Y/n stared at her, dazed, his mind struggling to catch up with what was happening. “Chaewon, I—”

The camera flashed one final time, freezing the image of her grinning triumphantly before she pulled him back into another kiss. This time, it was fiercer, hungrier, her nails digging lightly into his shoulders as she poured every ounce of her pent-up feelings into it. Y/n groaned against her mouth, his hands slipping under her sweater to trace the curve of her spine.

When they finally broke apart, both of them were breathing heavily, their faces flushed. Chaewon rested her forehead against his, her voice barely audible over the hum of the arcade outside. “So… did you like my surprise?”

Y/n chuckled, his thumb brushing against her cheek. “Yeah, I liked it. A lot.”

“Good,” she said, her grin widening. “Because there’s more where that came from.”

Chaewon’s lips lingered close to his, her breath warm against his skin as she whispered, “So… what do you think about us? About this?” Her eyes searched his, a mix of playfulness and vulnerability flickering in their depths.

Y/n hesitated for a moment, his heart pounding. The air between them felt electric, charged with something unspoken but undeniable. He could still feel the ghost of her touch under his sweater, the warmth of her body pressed against his. “I think…” he started, voice low, “it’s complicated. You know that, right? With everything going on in the group…”

She tilted her head, her fingers trailing lightly down his arm until they interlaced with his. “Complicated doesn’t mean impossible,” she murmured, her tone soft but firm. “And I don’t care about complications if it means getting to have this. To have you.” There was a weight to her words, a sincerity that made Y/n’s chest tighten.

He swallowed hard, his mind racing. Karina’s confession, Wonyoung’s teasing, Yujin’s boldness—now Chaewon was laying her feelings bare. It felt like the walls were closing in, the web of emotions growing more entangled by the day. But with Chaewon staring at him like that, her lips slightly parted and her cheeks flushed from the intensity of their kiss, it was hard to focus on anything else.

“Chaewon,” he said quietly, squeezing her hand. “You know this isn’t just about us. The group… we can’t risk—”

She interrupted him with a shake of her head, her hair brushing against his cheek. “Stop thinking so much,” she said, her voice firm but tender. “For once, just let yourself feel. We’ve been dancing around this for weeks—maybe longer. Don’t you think it’s time we stopped pretending?”

Her words hit him like a punch to the gut. She was right, wasn’t she? Every stolen glance, every lingering touch, every playful tease—they had all been building toward this. And now, with her standing so close, her body pressed against his, it was impossible to deny the pull between them.

“Okay,” he breathed, his voice barely audible. “What do you want, Chaewon?”

A slow smile spread across her face, her eyes gleaming with something mischievous. “I want you to stop overthinking and kiss me again,” she said, her tone light but laced with desire.

Before he could respond, she leaned in, capturing his lips with hers. This kiss was different from the ones before—slower, deeper, more deliberate. Her hands slid up his chest, curling around the back of his neck as she pulled him closer. Y/n’s hands instinctively found her waist, gripping her tightly as he deepened the kiss, his tongue brushing against hers.

The world outside the photobooth faded away, leaving only the two of them and the heat building between them. When they finally broke apart, both of them were breathing heavily, their foreheads resting against each other.

“That’s what I want,” Chaewon whispered, her voice trembling with emotion. “I want us to explore this. To see where it could go. I don’t care about the others right now. I just… I care about you.”

Y/n’s heart clenched at her words. He wanted to say something—anything—to reassure her, to tell her he felt the same way. But before he could, she stepped back slightly, her hands sliding down to grip his.

“But I need you to be honest with me,” she continued, her gaze steady. “If this is too much, if you’re not ready… I’ll understand. But don’t keep me hanging, Y/n. Don’t make me guess.”

He squeezed her hands, his mind racing. How could he explain the whirlwind of emotions he was feeling? The guilt, the desire, the fear of what this could mean for the group—and for them?

“It’s not that simple,” he admitted, his voice rough. “You know that. With Karina, Wonyoung, Yujin… it’s not just about us. It’s about how this affects everyone.”

Chaewon nodded slowly, her expression thoughtful. “I know,” she said softly. “And I’m not asking you to choose. I’m just asking you to give us a chance. To see where this could go. Isn’t that worth it?”

Y/n’s chest tightened at her words. She was giving him an out, a way to step back if he needed to. But as he looked into her eyes, he realized he didn’t want to. He wanted this. He wanted her.

“Yeah,” he said finally, his voice firm. “It’s worth it.”

A brilliant smile spread across Chaewon’s face, her eyes lighting up with joy. “Good,” she said, her voice full of relief. “Because I wasn’t planning on taking no for an answer.”

Y/n chuckled, pulling her closer. “You really are something else, you know that?”

She grinned, tilting her head up to meet his gaze. “You have no idea,” she teased, her fingers tracing patterns on his chest. “Now, are you going to kiss me again, or do I have to take charge?”

His answer was to lean down and capture her lips once more, pouring every ounce of his pent-up emotions into the kiss. Chaewon responded eagerly, her hands sliding up his shoulders to tangle in his hair. The world outside the photobooth disappeared, leaving only the two of them and the fire burning between them.

When they finally broke apart, both of them were breathless, their faces flushed. Chaewon rested her forehead against his, her breath coming in shallow gasps. “We should probably get out of here before someone catches us,” she murmured, though there was no urgency in her voice.

Y/n laughed softly, his hands still resting on her hips. “Probably. But I’m not ready to let you go yet.”

She smiled, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “Who said anything about letting go?” she said, leaning in to whisper in his ear. “Meet me in my room tonight. We can continue this… privately.”

His heart skipped a beat at her words, his grip tightening on her waist. “Are you sure?”

She pulled back slightly, her gaze locking with his. “I’ve never been more sure of anything,” she said, her voice steady. “But only if you are.”

Y/n hesitated for a moment, the weight of her words settling over him. This wasn’t just about a fleeting moment of passion—this was a decision that could change everything. But as he looked into her eyes, he knew there was no turning back.

“I’m sure,” he said, his voice firm.

Chaewon’s smile widened, and she pressed one last, lingering kiss to his lips before stepping back. “Good,” she said, her voice full of promise. “Tonight, then. Don’t keep me waiting.”

The hallway was dimly lit, the faint hum of fluorescent lights casting long shadows as Chaewon led Y/n by the hand. Her fingers were warm and firm around his, pulling him closer with every step. Their footsteps echoed softly against the polished floor, but neither of them spoke—words felt unnecessary now. The tension between them had been building all day, a slow burn that had finally reached its breaking point.

When they reached her room, Chaewon turned to face him, her eyes dark with desire. She didn’t hesitate, pressing herself against him, her lips capturing his in a hungry kiss. Y/n groaned into her mouth, his hands instinctively finding her waist as he pulled her closer. The taste of her was intoxicating, sweet and sharp like cherry cola, and he couldn’t get enough.

Chaewon broke the kiss just long enough to whisper, “I’ve been waiting for this all night,” before dragging him inside and shutting the door behind them. The room was bathed in soft amber light, the curtains drawn tight, creating an intimate cocoon. Without warning, she pushed him backward until his legs hit the edge of the bed, and he fell onto it, bouncing slightly.

She stood over him, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she let out a low, breathy laugh. “You’re so eager,” she teased, her voice dripping with mischief. And then, with deliberate slowness, she began to undress.

First came her jacket, slipping off her shoulders like liquid silk. Then her top, revealing a lace bralette that clung to her curves in all the right places. Y/n’s breath hitched as he watched her, his body already responding to her every move. But she wasn’t done yet. Her fingers hooked into the waistband of her skirt, and with a slow, teasing tug, she let it fall to the floor, leaving her in nothing but her lingerie.

Y/n couldn’t help but stare, taking in every inch of her. Chaewon was beautiful—stunning, really—but there was something about the way she carried herself, the confidence radiating from her, that made her irresistible. She stepped closer, straddling him on the bed, her hands resting on his chest.

“Do you like what you see?” she purred, her voice low and husky.

Y/n nodded, swallowing hard. “More than you know.”

Her lips curved into a sultry smile, and she leaned down, her breath hot against his ear as she whispered, “Then don’t hold back.”

That was all the invitation he needed. In one swift motion, he flipped her onto her back, pinning her beneath him. The surprise in her eyes only fueled his hunger, and he kissed her deeply, his hands roaming her body as if trying to memorize every curve. She moaned into his mouth, her nails digging into his shoulders as she arched against him.

Their clothes disappeared in a flurry of movement, discarded carelessly on the floor. When Y/n finally entered her, Chaewon let out a gasp, her head falling back against the pillows as her body shuddered in response. He moved slowly at first, savoring the way she felt beneath him, the way her breathing quickened with every thrust.

But Chaewon wasn’t content to let him set the pace. Her hips bucked against his, urging him to go faster, harder, and he obliged, his own control slipping as the heat between them grew unbearable. Her moans grew louder, more desperate, filling the room with a symphony of pleasure.

“Y/n—” she gasped, her voice breaking as her nails raked down his back. “Don’t stop... please...”

He didn’t. Instead, he shifted his angle slightly, hitting a spot that made her cry out in ecstasy. Her eyes rolled back, her mouth falling open in an agegao expression that sent a jolt of primal satisfaction through him. She was completely lost in the moment, consumed by the intensity of their connection.

As her body tightened around him, signaling her climax, Y/n felt his own release building. With one final, powerful thrust, he spilled into her, their shared cries mingling in the air. For a moment, they stayed like that, their bodies pressed together, hearts racing in tandem.

When he finally pulled back, Chaewon looked up at him, her eyes glassy and unfocused, a satisfied smile tugging at her lips. “Wow,” she breathed, her voice barely above a whisper. “You weren’t kidding when you said you were sure.”

Y/n chuckled, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “Neither were you.”

She laughed softly, her fingers tracing idle patterns on his chest. “Guess we’re both full of surprises.”

Before he could respond, she propped herself up on one elbow, her gaze locking with his. There was something unspoken in her eyes, a question or maybe a promise, but before either of them could explore it further, the sound of voices outside the door made them freeze.

Both pairs of eyes darted toward the door, wide with panic. The last thing they needed was someone walking in on them like this. Chaewon quickly grabbed a pillow, covering herself as Y/n scrambled to find his boxers.

But before they could fully recover, the doorknob began to turn.

“Shit,” Chaewon hissed under her breath, her heart pounding. “What do we do?”

Y/n’s mind raced, but before he could come up with a plan, the door creaked open, revealing...

Chaewon’s eyes widened in panic as the door creaked open. Without hesitation, she grabbed Y/n by the arm and yanked him under the covers with her, pulling the blanket up to their chins just as the soft glow of the hallway light spilled into the room.

“Stay quiet,” she whispered, her voice barely audible, her lips brushing against his ear. Her breath was warm, sending a shiver down his spine despite the heat pooling between them.

The sound of footsteps followed, slow and deliberate, as whoever had entered lingered near the doorway. Y/n’s heart hammered against his chest, each beat echoing loudly in his ears. He could feel Chaewon’s body pressed tightly against his, her legs tangled with his own, her skin still flushed from their earlier passion. The thin fabric of the blanket did little to hide the warmth radiating between them, but neither dared to move.

“Chaewon?” came a familiar voice—Winter. She sounded tentative, like she wasn’t sure if she should be there. “Are you awake?”

Y/n froze, his eyes locking with Chaewon’s. Her expression was a mix of amusement and mischief, her lips curling into a sly smile despite the situation. She placed a finger over her own lips, silently urging him to stay still, then turned her head slightly toward the door.

“Uh… yeah,” Chaewon called back, her voice surprisingly steady. “What’s up? I was just about to sleep.”

There was a pause, and Y/n could practically hear Winter’s hesitation. His mind raced, trying to figure out how they were going to get out of this without raising suspicion. But Chaewon seemed unfazed, her fingers tracing light patterns on his chest beneath the blanket, her touch both soothing and electrifying.

“I… couldn’t sleep,” Winter admitted finally, her voice softer now. “I thought maybe we could talk or something.”

Chaewon bit her lip, her hand stilling for a moment before she sighed softly. “Sorry, Unnie. I’m really tired tonight. Maybe tomorrow?”

Another pause. Y/n could almost picture Winter standing there, her arms crossed, her brow furrowed as she tried to make sense of the situation. He prayed she wouldn’t come closer, wouldn’t notice the faint rise and fall of the blankets or the way Chaewon’s breathing hitched ever so slightly when her fingers brushed against his stomach.

“Alright,” Winter said finally, though she didn’t sound entirely convinced. “Sleep well, then.”

The footsteps retreated, and the door clicked shut, plunging the room back into semi-darkness. For a moment, neither of them moved, listening intently for any sign that Winter might change her mind and return. When it became clear she was gone, Chaewon let out a low laugh, her body relaxing against his.

“That was close,” she murmured, her lips curving into a grin. Her hand resumed its exploration, trailing lower now, and Y/n sucked in a sharp breath. “Too close.”

“You’re insane,” Y/n replied, his voice hushed but laced with disbelief. He could feel the tension coiling in his gut again, threatening to unravel as her fingers danced dangerously close to where he wanted her most. “What if she had seen us?”

Chaewon tilted her head, her gaze locking with his. “She didn’t,” she said simply, as if that settled everything. “And besides…” She leaned in closer, her lips brushing against his neck, her words hot against his skin. “Wouldn’t that have been exciting?”

Y/n groaned softly, his hands instinctively finding her waist and pulling her closer. “You’re impossible,” he murmured, though he couldn’t help the smile tugging at his lips. “What if someone else comes in?”

“Then we’ll be quiet this time,” Chaewon replied, her tone teasing but her eyes filled with desire. She shifted slightly, straddling him beneath the blanket, her weight pressing deliciously against him. “Unless you want me to stop?”

He didn’t answer—he couldn’t. Instead, his hands slid up her back, pulling her down into a searing kiss. Their lips met with a hunger that sent sparks shooting through him, her tongue parting his as she deepened the kiss. Her hips rolled against his, the friction drawing a low groan from his throat.

“Quiet,” she reminded him, her breath hitching as she rocked against him again. Her movements were slow, deliberate, designed to drive him mad. And it was working. Every brush of her skin against his sent waves of pleasure crashing through him, every gasp and sigh from her lips only fueling his need.

Her hands roamed freely now, exploring every inch of him she could reach. She kissed along his jaw, his neck, her teeth grazing his skin in a way that made him shudder. When her lips found his ear, she whispered, “You’re mine tonight,” and the possessiveness in her voice sent a jolt of arousal straight to his core.

Y/n’s hands gripped her thighs, his fingers digging into her soft skin as he held her in place. “Chaewon…” he breathed, his voice strained with need. “We can’t—”

“Shh,” she interrupted, silencing him with another kiss. Her hips moved again, grinding against him in a rhythm that left no room for argument. “Don’t think. Just feel.”

And he did. Every touch, every movement, every whisper of her name against his skin blurred together into a haze of pleasure. The world outside the blanket ceased to exist, leaving only the two of them, lost in each other.

But just as the tension reached its peak, the sound of voices outside the door shattered the moment. Y/n tensed, his eyes darting toward the door as muffled laughter drifted in from the hallway. Chaewon froze above him, her breath coming in shallow puffs as she listened.

“Quick,” she whispered, sliding off him and pulling the blanket up higher. “Underneath me.”

Y/n didn’t argue, shifting so that she was lying on top of him, her body shielding his from view. The door handle turned again, and this time, multiple voices filtered into the room.

“Chaewon? Are you still awake?” It was Karina this time, her tone light and playful.

“We brought snacks!” added Winter, her voice cheerful now.

Chaewon propped herself up on one elbow, doing her best to look sleepy and disheveled. “Can’t you guys leave me alone for one night?” she complained, though her voice lacked any real annoyance.

Karina chuckled, stepping further into the room. “Come on, don’t be such a loner. We haven’t hung out properly in ages.”

Y/n held his breath, praying they wouldn’t notice the slight indent in the mattress where he lay hidden beneath Chaewon. Her hand found his beneath the blanket, squeezing gently in reassurance.

“Fine,” Chaewon sighed dramatically, sinking back down onto Y/n in a way that made him grit his teeth. “But if you wake me up again, I’m kicking you all out.”

The girls laughed, their voices fading as they began to chatter among themselves. Y/n could feel Chaewon’s body shaking slightly with suppressed laughter, her face buried in his shoulder to muffle the sound.

“You’re really enjoying this, aren’t you?” he muttered, his lips brushing against her ear.

Chaewon grinned against his skin. “Maybe a little.” She shifted slightly, her knee brushing against him in a way that made him bite back a groan. “But don’t worry… I’ll make it up to you later.”

Y/n had no doubt she would. But for now, all he could do was lie there, his heart pounding as he waited for the girls to leave—and for Chaewon to make good on her promise…

[little-boyyyy-blog]

i forgot!

alessia russo x reader

when alessia meets the one just for her she makes sure she the right one before showing her off. even if there was really no doubt. well. besides your college. but you got her to forget about it for a while.

“are you a model?” you asked the blonde girl that you had been shameless watching move throughout the paris night club you were currently in. people were swarming the bars, leading to arms laying across a sticky counter with debit cards in hand and very close proximities.

a surpsied expression to your bold question came from the girl, her moving her ear away from your lips with a tint to her cheeks that wasn’t there before. you could swear.

“a footballer actually. are you?”

alessia was automatically attracted to you. her eyes genuinely scanned your body painfully slow as her eyes filled with a obsession

“basketballer actually. aren’t you competing?” alessia peaked up at the more familiar accent, she knew she had heard it before. leaning forward towards the american stranger, enjoying her memories of the united stated

“my nation didn’t qualify. but innit that funny, i went to school in america?”

“what a shame. i’d love to watch you play. shame it wasn’t at duke either, i would have seen you before that. i know that for sure.”

“and you lost me there. you were doing well too” you watched as disinterest comes across her face at the mention of your alma mater. not like it mattered to you, the footballer in front of you was all your mind was interested by.

“i never said i hated unc” you had to yell for her to hear, pulling her closer to you by her waist as another body tried to squeeze behind her.

“that’s because it’s the best in the country”

“in my country?”

“your country.” her smile came back, bringing a burn deeper in your stomach. the bartender swiftly dropped off both her drinks and yours. “vos cartes.” you don’t know what came over you; because it definitely wasn’t logic when your hand came on-top of alessia’s as she tried to start a tab. it was early in the night and you were still on a contact in the lowest paid league in america; but you had no problem treating the girl you were admiring for the night.

never had you thanked you agent more for sponsorships.

“mets toutes ses boissons avec les miennes ce soir. tout ce qu'elle obtient, je l'ai” the bartender nodded to your fluent french and turned away without hesitation; only taking your card.

“put all her drinks in with mine tonight. whatever she gets, i got”

“what did you just do? also i thought you were from america? you sound great. ”

“i gotta make my money somewhere, you went to america for experience no? just stay around for a while so i have something to look forward, remember to come say bye too.”

the sharpness to you, your undeniable looks, the free drinks.. how could she say no?

“i just might have to, and who do i come looking for?”

“you’ll find out if you come back. what’s you’re name?”

alessia’s eyes rolled at your secrecy, but bit her lip in enjoyment. she knew she’d be coming back, how couldn’t she. just look at you.

“alessia.”

“less these were out front?” leah announced as she entered alessia flat; confusion being noticed on the kent natives face until her eyes caught onto the pink peonies that we beautifully arranged for her.

leah carried them in carefully; not glancing to hard at them before handing them off. “theyre beautiful”

she would have kept an eye out front for them if she knew they were coming, but she never knew when you’d send them.

her cheeks when flushed and the pink in those flowers were so similar that you had secretly dedicated those flowers to her.

“oh my god, i didn’t hear a ring. thank you le.”

“who gave you those?” a question that gone unanswered.

alessia hadn’t spoken a word about you to her teammate. you were too good to be true in her mind; she didn’t want to ruin that before anything could actually happen.

quickly plucking the card off the floral pick and walked causally into the kitchen. “oh my those are beautiful less, who sent them?”

“someone from the states.” she slipped the card away into her back pocket before the overbearingness of the arsenal women’s team started.

“ohhhh”

“a college fling?”

“how many times have they’ve sent them?”

less pressed her lips together to hide the ever small smile from crossing her face. “once or twice.”

“oh my god!”

“a man sent those??”

“ay dios mío..”

the room continued with the chatter of who they may believe it to be. but surprisingly the room had two silent watchers. ones that alessia noticed instantly.

alessia felt as lotte watched her throw away the same peonies, now a week old. she felt emily watching as she cleaned the vase and put it in a cabinet. a cabinet with definitely more than one or two similar vases. emily would count on at least 7 or 8.

but of course they already knew that the american would have to be someone new to alessia.

they were alessia’s bestfriends at her time at unc; and they knew she spent her time there as a stepping stone to make it where she is now. meaning she was focused, studious, and committed to soccer while there. she wasn’t at unc to date, she was there to become better.

but alessia wasn’t stupid. her eyes meet with lotte’s and emily’s, giving them the look to please keep quiet for now. and that’s what they did. because they didn’t care that much.

well they did. but they knew if they pushed they’d never know. and trust. they wanted to know so badly that they were willing to wait.

alessia didn’t know why people cared so much if it didn’t involve them; but what she did was learn was that people will always want to know too much.

the spotlight makes you learn that damn last.

and as the flowers became a second thought to the arrival to the skipper, that gave alessia an escape from the attention to do something she couldn’t wait to do.

excusing herself to the bathroom from her guests once the timing felt right. her heart beating as she already pulled out her phone from her back pocket to text you a ‘thank you’ for the flowers as she walked through her flat.

pressing her back against her own bathroom door as she locked it. pulling out the card that was placed in the flowers from her back pocket so fast it may have ripped a corner. rubbing her thumb over the similar words as those that have brought her ease for the past 7 weeks.

i bought these flowers the same night i bought your ticket. you’ll be here in a week and these should last you til then. ill spend my days waiting for you until then. xo

you had finally made your way back with lunch for the two of you and less couldn’t hold back her excitement. she had jumped into your arms the second you had entered the apartment, giving you no time but to catch her. and that’s what you did. “finally”

holding her up against you with one arm as you held onto the food bag in your other, you walked the both of you into your apartment. letting the front door close and automatically lock as you walked you both into your kitchen. placing her and the food down on the counter before quickly placing a kiss to the british girls lips.

“hi hun” you whispered against them as she snuck her hand up your shirt, leaving a comforting and warm hand on your side. in a way to remind you she was real. a reminder you were grateful for as you looked at her longer. “hi baby”

“i got us our last american meal for a bit”

“enjoy your messy burger because you obviously can’t live without one for two weeks.”

“that’s why i got it obviously..” you rolled your eyes back at her, “you know you talk a lot of shit for someone who likes being in america”

“that’s because you’re here.” alessia had sent butterflies to your stomach ever since the moment you had met her at club. and over the months you had gotten to learn her; you had learn that her comments like those. meant something. not only to you; but her too.

“is that why you had me push back your return flight?”

“are we not going to mention how you bought yourself a ticket to come back with me” a teasing smile on her lips.

“no we’re not”

your phone rang on the counter taking you both out of your moment together; her eyes moving subconsciously to see who it was. and when she read another woman’s name she automatically sat up straight and let her hand quickly fall off of your waist.

alessia couldn’t help herself. as much as she’d love to say she hadn’t been looking for a red flag in you. she knew she had to be right about you being too good to be true in her mind.

“hey what’s up?..”

and honestly; for a good second. she couldn’t believe her eyes when you picked up your phone so nonchalantly infront of her, answering the call from the girl with not a second thought to you.

“..damn. no i can’t watch tuck this weekend; im going out of town with less..”

but of course she was being dramatic.

of course you had been telling everyone about alessia.

you had been treating her like your girlfriend since the moment she had arrived and alessia loved it. but never admitted it.

a small smile cracking out from your lips and a sly wink was all alessia needed for her cheeks to become that signature pink and her forehead to come planting on the center of your chest.

and as you ended the call and pulled her head away from your chest. there was that light smile still on your lips “jealous over a dog”

all alessia wants to do is kiss that smile off your face too. “it was the girl; and so what about it?”

“you’re all i want less”

“no way. you’re not dating her less.” emily stood firm in alessia apartment. another wide smile coming across your face as you knew why. a laugh coming out after alessia looked at you crazy.

“what?” you stood in the center on alessia living room in a pair of her arsenal shorts and an college college hoodie.

“emily i’ve told her” you had met emily before due to emily’s time in the nwsl and you’re continuing friendship with her u-19 national teammate tess boade.

“told me what?”

“she’s a blue devil?”

“what?” lotte quickly pipped in as if you had killed someone.

“she went to duke? are you kidding less? how could you fall for the rival.”

“oh my god. i forgot.”

“are you actually doing this right now? baby i told you the night we met?”

“i forgot!” alessia exclaimed.

“what do you mean?! how could you forget?”

“she was buying our drinks and she was looking really nice, i guess it just flew right over my head that night!”

“god less you’re kidding.”

she wasn’t. and maybe the enemy wasn’t so bad after all.

[mimipolo]

hi darling, how are you?

genuinely thank you so much for writing about Nam-gyu, I love him and it's kind of disappointing to see that there are almost no fics or headcanons about him :(

I am honestly in love with your way of writing (⁠◍⁠•⁠ᴗ⁠•⁠◍⁠)⁠✧⁠*⁠。

I would love and be very grateful if you could write something about Nam-gyu dating a girl who is more shy and quiet

thank you so so nuch

have a great day/night 🤍

Nam-gyu x shy!reader

|HIII I'm doing good tysm for asking‼️

|You gave me the opportunity to listen to one of my softer playlists while writing this so kudos to u

He's tries his best to be gentle with you, almost too much. Sometimes he mistakes your meekness for also being weak. Yes weak willed but not necessarily a complete push over. You just prefer to keep to your thoughts to yourself. He genuinely admires you for it because he could never tolerate someone talking shit to his face.

Speaking of he's super quick to defend you, any word he believes could offend you( it offended him more) is immediately being damned to hell. He's holding you close to his side as he shouts at the supposed perpetrator.

We all know he's a super yapper when given the chance so he loves being in your company and talking to you, or well, talking at you. More often than not he's being spoken over or whatever he's saying isn't being received but it's so much more different with you. You're happy to sit and do whatever you're doing as he talks your ear off. Sometimes when he says something especially interesting you ask a question and he's already giddy and ready to explain in unnecessary amounts of detail.

Feels like he's the chosen one because you chose him out of all the loud bastards out there to be with. He wants to brag and show you off so badly but he has to physically restrain himself because he knows how much you'd hate having so many people you didn't know have so much information about you. Sometimes slips in a comment or two...or more to Thanos, nothing too crazy.

You understand him better than anyone else, when he's about to go from frustration to anger, then anger to violence. You're that voice of reason just behind him urging him to reconsider what he's about to say or do. At some point he realises he hears your soothing voice coaxing him to calm down when you're not there. Genuinely shudders at the thought because you have that much of an affect on him?? Terrifying.

Sometimes he likes to sit in silence with you, the windows open and it chills the already cool room as his head lays in your lap. You're humming quietly to yourself as you make a mess of his hair and he's content on staring up at you blissfully as you do so.

Takes into consideration you don't usually like PDA so keeps most of it at home. But any threat of someone even hinting at hitting on you he's softly grabbing your hand to pull you away, mean mugging the person the whole time. You hate confrontation at all costs, remembering how you jumped in shock at him just shouting at someone haunts him endlessly. Avoids doing so unless very much called for.

One thing you'll always acknowledge is how much he tries to remember all the little things about you, the effort he puts into making sure you're comfortable noticeable in every interaction. Even if it looks unnatural on him, he swears he's trying.

Guiltiest pleasure is purposefully making you flustered. Loves turning your head up to meet his eyes just for you to snap your head away as you shrink under his gaze. Thinks it's the cutest thing ever. Especially if you take hold of his wrists and tell him to stop it but don't actually push him away.

One thing he always makes sure of is keeping Thanos in check when he's around. It'd honestly be easier just to avoid him all together but the man is anywhere and everywhere. Has elbowed his stomach roughly when he was halfway calling you Senorita. Would do it again gladly. Got teased a lot after for being so protective you, Thanos clapped his back like some proud father as if he wasn't the main culprit.

He's your number one defender. If you have no fans he's legally dead. Supports every small hobby you do, and insists you make something big with it. Just wants to see you excited about something.

He's a snappy guy with a smart mouth so he has to tripple check himself every time he's slightly upset at you. It's not that he means to hurt you with his words he's just a little too creative. But due to your lax nature conflicts occur very rarely, a sense of peace only you could provide him with. Even if you did argue he'd be folding immediately after he's cooled down.

"Don't hate me kay? I didn't mean it."

"Speak to me pretty, ya know I said sorry."

Doesn't let up until you give out a short laugh, signalling his success.

[m1ckeyb3rry]

hii, i was wondering if i could submit a request for a fic🤔I don't rlly have any specific prompt but i want it to be about karasu or zantetsu, either one is fine. i've read all of ur karasu fics and they're so good! i love ur writing sm!! if u don't want to i totally understand but i also just want to tell u that i think ur writing is awesome (^◡^)

Synopsis: You become taken with your coworker’s roommate, Karasu, unaware that he’s just as fascinated by you — and maybe he has been for longer than you realize.

BLLK Masterlist

Pairing: Karasu x Reader

Chapter Word Count: 8.6k

Content Warnings: relationship dynamics many would consider…interesting…, <- never thought i’d be using THAT for a karasu fic, i’m bored of normal karasu characterization so i made him ooc, he’s like fr a weirdo icl, otoya catches strays, yukimiya is just trying to get through the workday, reader is a model, reader’s feet are mentioned a lot?? not sexually in the slightest (they’re injured so she complains abt them) but i mean it’s there ig if you’re a hater, very vague and unfinished feeling not on purpose i just gave up tbh

A/N: you sent this to me so long ago idek if you remember it LMAOAOAO i am so sorry i like fell off the face of the earth in terms of answering requests but HERE IT IS erm sorry it actually highkey sucks but at least karasu is in it…i guess…UGHHHH I HATE THIS BUT I COULDN’T KEEP PROCRASTINATING IT YOU LITERALLY SENT THIS IN THE BEGINNING OF AUGUST I’M SO SORRY MY DEAR but also tysm HAHHA you are very sweet!! i’m glad you like my writing and once again i am sorry for disappearing…

Additional: check my pinned post to make sure i have requests open; after reading the rules, please feel free to make your own!

You had never seen the man leaning against the wall behind the camera before. He wore a dark trench coat and a plaid scarf looped around his neck, and unlike everyone else bustling about the set, barking out orders and shoving each other into place, he was entirely calm. In his right hand, he held his phone, scrolling through something on it with his thumb, and in between his teeth was a lollipop — cherry flavored, which you only knew because of the wrapper lying at his feet.

“That’s not Yukimiya, right?” you whispered to the girl who was buttoning up the back of your top.

“Hm?” she said. “No, Mr. Yukimiya hasn’t checked in yet. I have no idea who that is.”

He was tall, with wide shoulders and the type of face that must have been crafted with painstaking detail by someone or another, his features keen, his eyes a brilliant shade of blue so dark they were nearly violet or black. Dark hair fell into darker eyebrows like the ink of a ballpoint pen on a paper-pale forehead, and just above his left cheekbone was a black beauty mark, which changed everything and yet nothing about him.

You supposed he must’ve sensed your gaze lingering on him, for he furrowed his brow and then lifted his chin, scanning the room before his eyes meet yours. He didn’t seem offended by the prying, his lips curling into a smile as he lifted his left hand into a jaunty wave, returning his attention to whatever he was reading on his phone before you could respond in turn or do anything to feel less like you had been caught committing some crime.

“I’m sorry I’m late!”

This must’ve been Kenyu Yukimiya, your partner for the shoot. He was handsome, too, with a harried, windswept appearance to his reddened cheeks and tousled hair; when he grinned at you apologetically, he was entirely reminiscent of a painting from antiquity.

He sat in the chair next to you as the makeup team got to work, applying the faintest touch of product so that he was not entirely washed out by the blinding lights of the cameras in your faces. You returned his smile with one of your own, polite and careful.

“Luckily, the director hasn’t arrived yet, so it’s not a problem,” you said. “Apparently, he’s strict on everyone but himself.”

Yukimiya winced as a heap of clothes was thrown at him and the finishing touches were placed on his chestnut hair. You watched him with amusement, your hands folded in your lap as he was yanked to his feet.

“Guess I got lucky this time, then,” he said, stumbling into the dressing room, the door slamming shut behind him. You stood yourself, stretching your arms and legs with a deep breath, rolling your ankles in the air, alternating as you did so, and then pacing back and forth in an attempt to accustom yourself to the monstrosities that your feet had been shoved into.

The man in the corner didn’t seem affected by the chaos Yukimiya’s appearance had thrown everyone into. You thought you saw something like a snort escape him, but otherwise he was calm — although you noticed he had tucked his phone away and shoved his hands in his pockets, opting to instead observe his surroundings with a soft curiosity.

You turned away before he could shift his attention to you once again, because your pride could not handle being caught by him a second time, and you pretended like you were entirely fascinated with putting one foot in front of the other, walking in a line so straight it was as if it had been drawn with a ruler.

Yukimiya reappeared completely ready a few seconds later, tying the laces of his dress shoes and then joining you at your side, although of course he did not need to practice walking or anything so silly. Like most men, he had been afforded the luxury of comfort; he wasn’t the showpiece of this edition, after all. You were, and so you were the one made up into a spectacle beyond natural ability or attempt.

“Everyone, in your places!” the director shouted as he entered the studio, a steaming cup of coffee in one hand and the other on his hip. He was diminutive in stature and wore a ridiculously feathered hat, but what he lacked in height, he more than made up for in position, so nobody would dare to say that to him, least of all you, who could so easily be replaced.

Still, for one final time, you allowed yourself to look at the man standing all by himself, wondering if he’d offer some reaction to the getup, some indication that you weren’t alone in your feelings. You weren’t sure why it was him who you sought out; perhaps because he, unlike everyone else, was a mystery, an enigma, and so while you could map out without knowing what all the other faces in the room looked like at that moment, you needed to see his to understand it.

He wrinkled his nose into a snicker, shaking his head like he couldn’t quite believe his eyes, and then he took his phone back out of his pocket, maybe to give himself an excuse for laughing. It wasn’t like he really needed an excuse, because no one else was even looking at him, but then again, there was never any harm in caution.

“You’re Y/N L/N, right?” Yukimiya said to you, his hand on your shoulder as you faced the camera, waiting for the director to adjust your stances. “It’s a pleasure. I’m surprised this is the first time we’re actually talking.”

“The pleasure is mine,” you said. “And yes, it’s a wonder we haven’t worked together before, given how frequently I’ve heard your name mentioned. I’m looking forward to it.”

Something about Yukimiya served to enhance everyone he was around, and so, instead of stealing the attention from you, he somehow managed to direct the spotlight so that it shone only on your placid face. You had been expecting the opposite, but you weren’t angry about it; in fact, you couldn’t have been more pleased. It was always the worst thing when your coworker was jostling you out of the way for a few extra seconds in front of the cameras, and you thought to yourself that you’d have to find some way of ensuring you were booked with him more often.

“Amazing! I don’t think I’ve ever been so quickly satisfied by a shoot!” the director said, clapping his hands together and nodding at you both. “Excellent work. I think we can wrap up for the day. I’ll see you two here at the same time tomorrow!”

“Wow,” Yukimiya said as everyone started disassembling the set. “I thought you said he was strict.”

You shrugged as you walked over to the dressing rooms. “I thought he was.”

“Well, we probably shouldn’t complain,” he said. “Between this and practice, my schedule is booked. I have no space to be ungrateful about a little extra time.”

“Very true,” you said. “It’s always nice when things like this end sooner than anticipated. Better than later, anyways.”

The first thing you took off were those excuses for shoes, kicking them under the door for good measure and shoving your feet into a pair of fluffy slippers, wiggling your toes with a sigh. Peeling off every layer you had squeezed into for the sake of the director’s creative vision, you curled up on the bench in only your underwear, sipping on water through a metal straw and staring at the wall, hugging your knees to your chest, lost in thinking about nothing.

Only when you grew cold did you stand, pulling on a sweatshirt three sizes too large and sweatpants that puddled at your shoes, shielding you from the world as you trudged out of the dressing room, wanting to rub your eyes but knowing that you would smear makeup all over the backs of your hands. You settled instead for playing with the thread you had taped to the handle of your water bottle for exactly such an occasion, twirling the loose ends of the meticulous knots in between your fingers idly.

“Ah — L/N!” Yukimiya waved at you as you made your way towards the exit. Unaccustomed to further camaraderie after the end of the workday, you had to fight to keep your expression neutral, and when you noticed the man from earlier was at Yukimiya’s side, the lollipop long gone, you had to fight even harder.

“Is something the matter?” you said.

“No, nothing at all,” he said. “I just figured we might as well walk to the parking garage together, since it’s late and all.”

“I appreciate it,” you said. The studio you were at had only one security guard in its employ, a man that inspired pity more than fear, with a few strands of hair glued into a desperate attempt at a combover and a shirt that was far too thin to be considered professional, so you hadn’t even considered asking for an escort, figuring you would take your chances. Still, the thought of walking alone wasn’t the most appealing, and while you wouldn’t have asked for it yourself, you were glad Yukimiya had offered his company nonetheless.

“Oh! Karasu, this is Y/N L/N. L/N, this is Tabito Karasu,” Yukimiya said as you reached the door and the other man — Karasu — used one black-gloved hand to open it.

“Is he your bodyguard or something? Thank you,” you said, nodding at Karasu for holding the door.

“He wishes,” Karasu said. His voice was rough and deep and sounded like he was perpetually in on some private joke, but you didn’t mind it, not in the slightest. “I’m his roommate — the one with a car, by the way. And a driver’s license. And the time to pick his sorry ass up.”

“What he means is that he offered to stop by on his way home to get me,” Yukimiya said.

“That’s very generous of you,” you said. “Especially considering you were there even before Yukimiya was.”

“Don’t you think? It’s fine, now he owes me one,” Karasu said, his eyes glimmering. “And I intend to collect, of course.”

“He never does anything out of the goodness of his heart,” Yukimiya said with a long-suffering sigh. “You better be careful around him, L/N. Whatever he gives you, he’ll expect the same in return.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” you said, though of course you had no intentions of ever being around Karasu in any way that mattered.

“We play soccer for the Japanese team, you know,” Karasu said. “You should come to one of our games, L/N. I’m sure some of our teammates would be delighted by that. Right, Yuki?”

Yukimiya sighed, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “If you’re talking about Otoya and Aiku, then yes, but that’s not necessarily a good thing.”

“Not for her, it isn’t,” Karasu said. “For them, sure it is. But I wasn’t talking about those two, anyways.”

“Pardon?” you said.

“Ignore him,” Yukimiya said. “I don’t really know what he’s going on about.”

“It was nice meeting you,” Karasu said, picking up before Yukimiya on the fact that your steps had stuttered to a stop. “L/N, was it?”

He offered you his hand. You took it and shook, arching a brow at the firmness of his grip, which was much more in line with a businessman than a soccer player. 

“Yes,” you said. “Karasu? It was nice to meet you as well.”

“Don’t worry,” Yukimiya said, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “I’ll make my other roommate pick me up tomorrow.”

“Otoya?” Karasu said. “Good luck with that. He’ll be late to his own funeral, so don’t think you’re high on his priority list. The only time he comes early is—”

“Karasu,” Yukimiya interjected. “Don’t be crass.”

“Sure, sure,” he said. “See you around, L/N. Or maybe not.”

“See you,” you said, starting your car so that it wasn’t freezing when you got in, deciding it wouldn’t be polite to tack on a definitely not to the farewell and instead opting to stay silent.

“Bye, L/N,” Yukimiya said. “Until tomorrow.”

Although your apartment wasn’t large by any means, it wasn’t small, either, sitting at a comfortable medium that was paid for half by you and half by your brother, who was hardly ever home, anyways, but needed somewhere for his mail to be delivered. He was a free spirit, always traveling: for work, for fun, for women and wine, for anything his heart desired, which left you the entire space to yourself more often than not. People were jealous of you when they found out, but when you sat on the couch alone, a blanket pulled up around your shoulders and a bowl of salad held in between your knees, the television on only to ward away the silence that permeated the room, you wondered what they had to be jealous of.

The next day, you didn’t look for Karasu when you entered the studio, but you knew as you stepped in that he wasn’t there. There was something missing, the room a little brighter without him in the corner, waiting with an unmatched patience for Yukimiya to be done. Yukimiya must’ve made good on his threat, then, to call their other roommate to pick him up, although privately you wondered why he couldn’t just drive himself.

The shoot went even smoother the second day than it had the first, and it was a surprise the director didn’t fall to your feet and grovel at the speed with which you executed his vision. Yukimiya struck that perfect balance of workmanlike and personable, and you were content to play along with him, so all in all things moved with relative swiftness.

When you went to leave, you noticed that Yukimiya was standing by the door on his own, tapping his phone furiously. You were under no obligation to stop, but for some reason, you did, waiting awkwardly for a second before clearing your throat.

“Is everything alright?” you said. He startled, almost dropping his phone as he blinked at you.

“Yes! Yes, it’s fine, it’s just my roommate is a jerk, that’s all. Last night, he told me he was fine with picking me up, but now all of a sudden he’s busy,” he said with a scoff.

“Otoya, right?” you said. Yukimiya cocked his head.

“Yes, how’d you know?” he said.

“Karasu — your other roommate mentioned him yesterday,” you said, correcting yourself so that it didn’t seem like Karasu was someone you paid special attention to. Judging by Yukimiya’s expression, you didn’t think you had been entirely successful in the attempt, which was unlike you. You bit the tip of your tongue so that you didn’t say anything further, waiting for him to respond.

“Right,” he said.

“Why don’t you drive yourself?” you said, crossing your arms and standing beside him, facing the road as he was. 

“I can’t,” he said.

“You never learned?” you said. He shook his head, adjusting his glasses self-consciously.

“It’s not recommended I do,” he said. He didn’t elaborate further, but he didn’t have to; you recognized it wasn’t your place and hummed in acknowledgement.

“If you want, I don’t mind taking you,” you said. You didn’t know where Yukimiya lived — for all you knew, it was across the city entirely — but it didn’t hurt to extend your hand like that, especially because you had a sense that he wouldn’t even accept it.

“It’s alright,” Yukimiya said. “Karasu said he’s on his way, since last he checked, Otoya’s in the shower now, for some reason.”

“Oh,” you said. “That’s kind of him.”

“Kind?” Yukimiya said, and then to your surprise, he laughed. “I wish I knew as little about him as you do.”

“Is he a bad person?” you said.

“Not at all,” Yukimiya said. “He’s great. He’s one of my best friends, in fact; it’s just that kind and Karasu rarely if ever go together in the same sentence.”

“How can someone be your best friend if you don’t even think they’re kind?” you said, intrigued by the puzzle Yukimiya had presented you with. The way he spoke of Karasu, it was as if he were some willful spirit that occasionally deigned to lend his aid to those who could bring him some benefit, but the way the two of them treated one another didn’t seem anything like that.

“I don’t know,” Yukimiya said. “If you knew him better, I wouldn’t have to explain this. He’s a hard person to understand, and just when you think you’ve finally got it, he goes and complicates things further.”

“That sounds exhausting,” you said.

“That’s the strangest thing about it all,” Yukimiya said as a car pulled up in front of you both, the hazard lights turning on. “With him, it’s entirely natural.”

Karasu stepped out of the driver’s side, shutting it behind him and joining the two of you on the curb, grinning at Yukimiya in a way that almost felt mocking.

“Told you Otoya wasn’t to be trusted,” he said. “You’re paying for dinner.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Yukimiya said, tossing his bag at Karasu, who caught it without flinching. “Put this in for me.”

“Whatever you say,” Karasu said, opening the back door of the car and throwing the bag onto the floor before slamming it shut and patting the handle for good measure. “Is that everything, your royal highness?”

“Yes,” Yukimiya said. “I’m going to kill Otoya when we get back.”

“Hm,” Karasu said. “Violent.”

“He deserves it,” Yukimiya said. “Bye, L/N. Thanks for waiting with me.”

“It’s not an issue,” you said, especially because you hadn’t done it on purpose, and even if you had, it hadn’t been for him. “I’m glad everything worked out.”

You wanted to say something more, something to Karasu in particular, but you didn’t know what or how. It wasn’t like you knew him — not a little and not at all, as Yukimiya had pointed out, and indeed you had no reason to speak to him in the first place. He wasn’t anything but your coworker’s roommate, so what did he mean to you?

Yukimiya shut his door with a hurried apology about the cold, and then it was just you and Karasu on the curb, and you couldn’t tell why, but the way he looked at you made you think he could hear every thought which was racing through your mind. 

“Yukimiya’s right. It’s cold out,” he said. “You should go home now.”

“I’m just about to,” you said.

“Are you?” he said. 

“Why are you questioning that?” you said, surprisingly affronted, although he hadn’t said anything insulting. “Of course I am. It’s not like I have anywhere else to go.”

“I’m not questioning anything,” he said. “Drive safely.”

“Wait,” you said. “Will you be here tomorrow?”

“Would you prefer it if I am?” he said.

“I’d prefer it if you answered my questions instead of coming up with more of your own,” you said, which you thought would be met with shock — after all, it was a rare thing that you broke character and said anything that could be perceived as cutting — but was instead received with a snicker.

“Yes,” he said. “I’ll be here tomorrow. Early, if that’s what you want.”

“It doesn’t matter to me,” you said. “Do what you’d like.”

“I think that I will,” he said, and then Yukimiya was rolling down the window, telling him to hurry up, damnit, so he left you behind without another word, the car’s engine purring as they drove away.

You must’ve looked like such a fool the next morning, the final of the shoot, your eyes immediately going to the corner where Karasu had been that first day. It was empty, and despite yourself, your shoulders slumped when you realized that he wasn’t there, which was enough for you to break out of that strange trance. Why had you even hoped in the first place? He had made no indication that he was going to come, and you were old enough to know that hoping and wishing were certain paths to disappointment.

“Do you want me to take you back tonight?” you asked Yukimiya, sitting in a chair beside him as you waited for the director to come. It was a clumsy and roundabout way of getting to what you actually wanted out of him, but the last thing you could do was tell him the truth. What would he say, if he knew why you were actually offering? What would he think of you then?

“Hm? No, it’s fine, Karasu’s already got it. He’s at the gym with Shidou — er, another teammate of ours — right now, but he’ll be done before we are, and the studio’s closer to the gym than our apartment is, so he told me it wouldn’t be any extra trouble,” he said, and you thought he must’ve added those extra details for the sole purpose of seeing what your response to them would be, but then you remembered that Yukimiya wasn’t that kind of person. He was just telling you as a way to fill the time, not to get one over you or anything like that.

“That’s good,” you said. “Convenient.”

“Yup,” Yukimiya said. “My agent told me we’d be doing individual photos today.”

“Huh?” you said. “Oh, right. Yes, I think that’s the case.”

“That’s a shame. I enjoyed working with you,” he said.

“Me, too,” you said, and unlike most times, you weren’t lying when you did. “I’m sure we’ll meet again soon, though. There’s not so many of us our age.”

“True,” he said. “It’s a given.”

“Exactly,” you said.

“Yukimiya! You’re up first!” the director shouted, entering as he always did — like a whirlwind, leaving papers scattered and assistants flustered in his wake. 

“That’s my cue,” Yukimiya said with a long-suffering sigh.

“Good luck,” you said, glad that it wasn’t your turn just yet. The shoes you were meant to wear sat innocently before you, about two feet away, and although it was impossible for inanimate objects to be snide, they were quite close to it, glaring at you with their bejeweled straps and their impossible tall heels, tittering between themselves at the thought of the cuts already forming on your ankles, the bandages you’d have to remove in order for those terrors to slide on without fuss.

You set your water bottle on the armrest of your chair, taking up the thread and crossing it over itself in the patterns you had been taught in elementary school. You didn’t have anyone to tie these bracelets around, and you couldn’t wear them yourself, for they’d be cut away almost immediately, but the repetitive motions soothed your mind, distracting you from the red soaking through your white socks.

“L/N!” the director screamed, even though you were sitting right there and could hear him perfectly fine. “Put your damn shoes on and get the hell up here!”

Without Yukimiya there to soften the blow, you were the direct target of all of his anger. Swallowing back every emotion you had ever felt and would ever feel, you bent over and began to rip the nude-colored band-aids, stained rusty at the edges, off. Balling them up and throwing them in the trash, you stood on aching soles and pulled the shoes on, one after another, clenching your teeth and taking off your sweater so that you could waltz over to where the cameras were trained.

“Took you long enough,” the director groused. 

“Yes, sir,” you said. “How should I stand?”

“Just put your hands there, and your one leg there,” the director said vaguely, waving his arms about before striking what must’ve been an approximation of the pose he wanted you to take. You did your best to copy it, and the cameras went off, your vision temporarily fleeing and then coming back in spots as the lights faded. “No!”

“No?” you said.

“That’s all wrong! It’s horrible, horrible — you’re not even trying to do what I asked!” he said. “Yukimiya could do it, so why can’t you? Just do this!”

He did the same thing again. You weren’t sure what else you could adjust, but you moved slightly, twisting your torso at a different angle and smiling without your teeth this time. He grunted and motioned for the cameras to go again, but after a few more photos, he groaned, dragging his face over his hands.

“This is horrendous! You look entirely stiff and posed. It’s like you're a mannequin!” he said.

“I don’t — I’m not — what should I fix?” you said, unable to stop nerves from creeping into your voice and jostling it about. As difficult as he was to work with, you knew that the director was a big name in the industry, and if he only had bad things to say about you, then your entire livelihood would be threatened.

“Ugh!” he said, stomping onto the set and grabbing your arm, wrenching it down so hard you were surprised it didn’t dislocate. You chewed on the frayed flesh of the inside of your cheek to keep from yelping, allowing yourself to be pliable as he dragged your leg forward into what he wanted from you. “It’s like you’re a completely different person today! Just disappointing.”

Whatever position he had coerced you into was nothing like the one he had wanted you to imitate, but you refrained from pointing that out, holding it in place while the photographers adjusted their lenses. It was uncomfortable and made the lace lining your collar dig into your throat even more, but at least that served as a reminder for you to be silent.

“That’s enough,” the director said, massaging his temples. “We’re not getting anything more out of you.”

“What?” you said, standing normally, tired of contorting yourself for the impossible-to-please man. “What do you mean?”

“You’re lifeless. I don’t know how you managed to fool me yesterday and the day before, but I see it now. Honestly, if it weren’t for the concerning accusations I’d face, I’d just dig up a grave and pay the families half the royalties. It’d be a cheaper and better performance than whatever you’re giving me,” he said.

“What?” you said again, shame pouring over you, cold in a way that was closer to heat, ringing in your ears and coating your tongue. You couldn’t think of another response, any other way to defend yourself. If he was saying it, then it really was the truth. You swallowed, about to bow your head and shuffle off of the set for good, but then, like a bird in your peripheral vision, you noticed someone standing in the corner.

It was Karasu, and he was muffling a laugh. When he noticed you were looking at him, he dropped his hand from in front of his mouth and jerked his head towards the director, mouthing something that looked suspiciously like get a load of this guy. Your eyes widened, and then you, too, were fighting back a giggle, because you were so tired of the entire charade and your feet hurt and you wanted to go home and sleep for a few hours but this director, this stupid fucking director, couldn’t make up his mind about what he wanted from you. And now your career was ruined and you’d go back to waiting tables and Karasu was standing there, which was ridiculous, because where had even come from? But, then again, did it matter? Because the most amazing thing of all was that he was laughing. The situation was horrible and he was laughing as if it was the most entertaining moment of his life.

“There!”

You cringed as the cameras went off in quick succession, but they were faster than you, and you knew for sure they had caught you before you had cowered away. The director stroked his chin, and then, to your surprise, clicked his tongue in approval.

“Well done,” he said. “That’s the kind of genuine appeal I was looking for. If you can bring more of that to the table, then anyone would be happy to have you.”

You frowned, his sudden switch in mood giving you whiplash. Only seconds earlier, he had been berating you, and now he was praising you? You couldn’t understand what had brought about the change, but you were at least quick enough to not question it. 

“Thank you,” you said. “I appreciate the advice. And the opportunity to work with you.”

“I’ll hire you again,” he said, which sounded as much like a threat as it did a promise. “We’ll bring it out of you. Now that I know what you’re capable of, I won’t rest until I’ve perfected it in the way only I can.”

The thought of being perfected by him, molded and shaped and honed, was the most unappealing you had had in a while. You could imagine him tugging your limbs out of their sockets, rearranging them at his leisure, slicing gashes into your skin so that his clothes and accessories sat better, smoother, without unappealing wrinkles or reflections marring their surfaces.

“Thank you,” you said once more. “It’s an honor.”

“Are you alright?” Yukimiya said when you wobbled over to where your shoes and clothes were strewn about. 

“I’m fine,” you said, but you weren’t looking at him. Your distracted eyes were following Karasu as he left the studio, your eyebrows knitting together as you tried to ascertain what the point of him even coming inside had been, if he was going to leave without you — without Yukimiya. 

He didn’t come for you, a voice in the back of your head, sounding eerily similar to the director’s, said. He came to pick up his roommate, just like he promised he would.

“I can’t believe he chose you as his favorite. Maybe you’ll be his muse for the next few years!” Yukimiya said. The director was known for picking one model to fixate on for an extended period of time. His every project revolved around them, and they were catapulted into unprecedented stardom under his guiding hand, staying there until their retirement. It was everyone’s dream, and you should’ve been happy at the prospect of being next in that line, but when you beamed at Yukimiya, it was fake, the muscles in your mouth straining at the unnatural position you were putting them into.

“Who knows?” you said. “I don’t want to rely on it. It’s not a guarantee.”

“Smart idea,” he said, scrunching up his face. “I’m sorry. I’m used to soccer more than all of this. Everyone’s very…full of themselves.”

“You’re not full of yourself,” you said, shutting the door of your dressing room behind you and calling through it as you changed, hoping to delay him even slightly.

“You’ve never seen me on the field,” he said. “There, everyone’s different. You have to be, if you want to live. Ego’s a form of survival out there.”

“Doesn’t sound much different than modeling,” you said.

“A little different,” he said. “People here are just vain. That’s not the same.”

You hadn’t ever gotten changed so quickly, but in record time, you were swinging your bag over your shoulder and rejoining Yukimiya, who seemed as surprised as you were that you had finished so quickly. After all, you had a bit of a reputation for…sulking? Brooding? You weren’t sure what word they were using for it nowadays, but regardless, your proclivity for sitting in your dressing room in silence was well-known, as much a part of your character as it was a habit. 

“You’re not wrong about that,” you said. “But vanity’s a necessary evil, I think. If you want to succeed.”

“Er, right,” he said, standing in place like he was unsure of how to react. “I suppose so.”

When you did not halt but instead kept moving towards the exit, he straightened and hurried after you. You weren’t going very fast, and his strides were so long that he caught up with you before you could even brace for the biting wind that rushed in as soon as you opened the door. The two of you went along in silence, Yukimiya obviously befuddled why you were still with him but too polite to say anything about it, and it was only when you reached the entrance to the parking garage, where a familiar car was waiting, that you allowed yourself to smile.

“Man, talk about an asshole,” Karasu said, stretching like a cat as he got out of the still-running sedan. “That director is a piece of work.”

“Karasu!” Yukimiya reprimanded, which got him nothing but a sly smile from the man in question. “He’s our boss. We can’t say stuff like that about him.”

“He’s your boss,” Karasu corrected. “So you can’t say stuff like that. I can say whatever I want.”

“You’re going to get me fired,” Yukimiya said. “It’s a good thing I have soccer to fall back on, or else I’d be in trouble.”

“Go sit in the car, then, if you want to stay blameless,” Karasu said.  

“I will! And you better not bother poor L/N. I don’t want her to have a bad opinion of all of us just because of you,” Yukimiya said, jabbing his finger at Karasu, who raised his hands in the air innocently.

Today, he wore a white windbreaker over a grey shirt, and because he was not wearing gloves, you could see that there were calluses on his palms, standing out pale at the seams of his fingers. You weren’t used to seeing calluses on anyone, not when the few people you met on a semi-regular basis took such diligent measures to prevent them, but now that you were faced with them sans demonization, you found their roughness was warm and friendly, not hideous.

“He was pretty bad,” you mumbled as soon as Yukimiya had shut himself away in the car. 

“Yuki, or the director?” Karasu said.

“Don’t be horrible,” you said. “You know who I’m talking about.”

“I can’t believe he compared you to a dead body,” Karasu said.

“That’s not the worst I’ve gotten,” you said. “It took me by surprise because things had been going so well until then, but he was relatively tame, all things considered.”

“Really?” Karasu said. 

“Yes,” you said, dropping your voice to a murmur in case anyone was around, not wanting to give yourself a reputation as a whiner. “Once, someone asked me if my mother was a fish, because there was no other explanation for how I was flopping around.”

“That’s rude,” he said.

“It was!” you said. No one had ever listened to you before, least of all with such a benign expression on their face, and you were so starved of it that you could not contain yourself any longer. “Especially because I was standing still, not flopping around or whatever. Honestly, I wanted to ask him if his mother was a fish, because you know what? There was no other explanation for how he smelled!”

“Horrid!” Karasu said, beaming at you. “You should’ve.”

“Oh, no, no, I couldn’t. I shouldn’t even have said it to you,” you said, shaking your head and pressing your hands over your mouth, unsure of any other method of stopping yourself that would be nearly as effective. 

“But you did,” he said, zipping up his jacket in a swift movement. “I’ll think of something about myself to tell you in return. Give me a day or two.”

“That’s not why I did that,” you protested. “And we don’t have a day or two, anyways, so you’ll have to do it now or never again.”

“Sure we do,” he said. “We live in the same city, don’t we? I bet our paths will cross. Where do you go grocery shopping?”

“Grocery shopping?” you said.

“Karasu! You’re low on gas!” Yukimiya said, rolling down his window. 

“I go to the place across from the park on South 18th Street. Every Thursday after practice,” Karasu said. “Meet all sorts of people there. Never know who I’m going to run into.”

You could picture exactly the store he was talking about; it wasn’t where you typically went, but sometimes, if you were running low on something hard to find, you’d walk the extra few blocks. It was much bigger than the one close to your apartment, after all, and suddenly you wondered if you had seen Karasu there before, if you had seen him ten or twenty times and just not noticed.

“When do you finish practice?” you said, right before he got into his car. 

“Lunchtime,” he said. “I’m hungry more often than not.”

“It’s not good to shop for food when you’re hungry,” you said.

“Then I’ll have to do something about it before I do,” he said. “Well, it depends. Only if I have good company.”

You didn’t realize until you were halfway home what he meant by that, and by then it was too late for you to change your mind — not that you would’ve. Not that you needed to. He wasn’t holding you to anything, even though you knew as well as he did that you would be there; still, ultimately it was your decision. Your choice. 

That was a strange characteristic of his, one that Yukimiya hadn’t mentioned. Karasu didn’t ask for things; he didn’t command them, either. He only made suggestions, nudging you along until you reached the destination that he wanted you to arrive at. You had never met a person quite so adept at it, at presenting choices and questions as disguises for inevitabilities, at guiding people’s thoughts so precisely. It would’ve been unsettling coming from anyone else, but from him, it was natural. It was how he operated. Who were you to chafe at it when that was simply who he was?

The grocery store was large, but they never changed their layout, so you knew where everything was familiarly and without checking the signs. You didn’t have anything to shop for, so you decided to wander the aisles, thinking that if something caught your eye, you’d buy it without further consideration.

You found yourself staring at a bag of oranges, a bright red 50% Off! sticker slapped right on the netted packaging. Swallowing, you reached for it, but before you could, someone snatched them away, holding them in the air teasingly.

“I thought you shouldn’t shop for food when you’re hungry,” Karasu said. “And might I add, what a coincidence it is, seeing you here!”

“I’m not hungry,” you said, taking the oranges back and holding them to your chest protectively. “And I wasn’t looking for you.”

“I didn’t say that you were,” he said. “I distinctly recall saying that it was a coincidence we even met, in fact. Anyways, maybe you’re not hungry, but I am, so I should be off. Meals to eat, shopping lists to plan…it’s a busy life I have.”

“Sounds mundane,” you said. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be,” he said. “You’re right. That reminds me! Before I go, what is it that should I tell you?”

You couldn’t deny that that was the real reason for why you had come to the grocery store — what was he going to reveal? For as much as he knew about you, you knew frighteningly little about him, and now that you were faced with a chance to learn what kind of person he really was, you didn’t want to let it leave your grasp.

“Whatever you want,” you said. He plucked the oranges from your grasp again, and before you could complain, set them at the bottom of the small basket he held in his arms.

“How about this? I knew you were going to go for the oranges,” he said.

“How?” you said.

His eyes sparkled as he leaned closer to you, and you suddenly remembered Yukimiya’s warnings. Whatever you thought you knew about Karasu, it was likely only half or maybe a quarter the truth. Really, he was shifting and cunning, a fox and a crow, far from comprehension, not a danger but not kind, either.

“I’ll answer if you tell me something else about yourself,” he said.

“Why are you acting like I’m entering some kind of contract with a devil?” you said.

“I’m not a devil,” he said. “Just Karasu. My teammates think I’m a great guy, if the recommendation sets you at ease.”

“It sounds more like you’re trying to blackmail me,” you said. He shook his head.

“Couldn’t it be said that you’re doing the same? You’re asking questions about me and expecting that I answer when you have no intentions of reciprocating,” he said. 

You pouted, because when he put it like that, he wasn’t wrong, and it wasn’t that you didn’t trust him — because you did. You trusted him more than you should’ve, considering how guarded you had learned to become.

“I have an older brother,” you said. “He’s overseas right now. I don’t think he’ll be back for a while.”

“I have an older sister,” Karasu said. “Maybe they know each other.”

“Probably don’t,” you said. “Also, you didn’t answer my question.”

“I guess I didn’t,” he said, reaching around you to take two boxes of cereal off of a shelf. “Try again.”

“My parents didn’t want me to be a model,” you said. “They thought I should be a teacher. I’m good at it. Children like me.”

“I was going to go into investment banking,” he said. “Or consulting. One of those such fields. Maybe I still will, but soccer is fine for now.”

This was a game for him, you realized. Like tennis, but better, and so, instead of being irritated, you decided you might as well indulge it. It had been so long, anyways, since the last time you had spoken to someone freely, without concern for what they might spread about you, whose ears they would whisper your secrets in just to get one or two steps ahead.

“I threw a dress at a designer’s face once,” you said. “He didn’t like the shade of lipstick I was wearing, even though he was the one that picked it. The only reason my reputation wasn’t ruined was because he ended up liking the way the lipstick turned up digitally and promised not to say anything about it if I allowed them to use my photos after all.”

Karasu laughed, opening the doors to the fridge and taking out milk, stacking it neatly in the basket. You weren’t sure when the two of you had begun shopping in earnest, but it seemed he had forgotten about his plans to eat lunch. 

“In high school, my teammate pissed me off, so I made sure to shove him around extra when we tried out for a nearby youth team. It made him look so inept that he didn’t make the cut,” he said, taking an abandoned cart and depositing his things in it, motioning for you to put your purse in as well.

“That’s mean!” you said, but it was hard to disguise the fact that you, too, were laughing. “You’re mean.”

“His fault. He should’ve played better, anyways,” Karasu said. “I had been helping his sorry ass out for too long. He would’ve been cut regardless. You could say I just…expedited the process.”

“I’m the only one in my family who still wishes my brother happy birthday,” you said. “He’s a disappointment in everyone else’s eyes, but he lets me live with him and pays his share of the bills, so how can I disown him?”

“Between the two of us, my sister is the perfect one, so I’m afraid I can’t relate. Vanilla or hazelnut?” he said without skipping a beat. Before you could even answer, he face-palmed. “Oh, wait, Otoya hates hazelnut. I’ll get that so he doesn’t mistake it for his own.”

“I used to be a waitress,” you said. “Before I was a model. It was a lot less glamorous of a career. I don’t think my feet ever recovered from it.”

“I’m sure those shoes that you were forced into for your last job didn’t help any,” he said. “They looked inhumane.”

“They were,” you said, your ankles panging at the reminder, still inflamed and angry as they were. “Though I think anyone would’ve suffered with them on. I doubt the designer had human anatomy in mind when making them; I haven’t bled like that in a while.”

“They made you bleed?” he said. You hummed.

“Yeah,” you said, seeing no point in lying. Who would he tell? Who would even believe him? “Fashion over function, right? It was only for a few photos. They’ll be healed so quickly I’ll forget I had them in the first place. Enough about me, though. Tell me something else about yourself.”

“I sprained my wrist playing soccer as a kid,” he said. “It was a long time ago, but even now, I can feel it when it rains.”

He still hadn’t answered your original question, and you didn’t think he would, not until you offered him something of equal or greater value. But what did you have like that? What aspect of your silly life held enough weight that it would make someone like Karasu, always so ready with his wit and his charm, willing to part with something he clearly deemed to be a secret?

“I’m lonely,” you said, turning away from him, pretending to be fascinated with comparing two different brands of yogurt, neither of which you would buy. “You’ll laugh, but I think this is the longest conversation I’ve had with someone outside of work since my brother last came home. It’s nice, surprisingly. Talking to you and all. I like it.”

Or maybe you just liked him. You couldn’t really separate the two. Either way, it remained that ever since you had met Karasu, you could not conceive of a time when you had not known him, a time when you had gone home to your empty apartment and watched your empty shows and eaten your empty salads and thought you were satisfied by it all. You doubted he knew he had this effect, and you certainly wouldn’t be the one to tell him — after all, he’d probably be frightened if he found out that you had, in such a short time, grown so attached to him and his games and his conduct.

“The oranges,” he said. “You tried to buy them the first time I saw you.”

“What?” you said. Now it was his turn to avert his eyes and yours to watch him in fascination, finding it far easier to stomach a secret than to spit it out.

“It was a long time ago, but it was definitely you,” he said. “It was a Thursday, and I was just coming back from practice; this grocery store is far from my apartment but close enough to the field that, when Otoya — he was sick, so he had skipped that day — texted me that we were out of bread, I decided I’d make the detour. I wasn’t planning on staying here long, but right when I was about to leave, I saw you. You only had a packet of instant noodles and a bag of oranges in your hands. They were on sale back then, too, but—”

“But I had to put them back,” you finished for him, remembering that day as well as he did, albeit not his role. “Because I didn’t have enough money to get them, even when they were 50% off.”

“Yes,” he said. “I left before you noticed me, but I always — I always wish I hadn’t. I kept making the trip here, doing my shopping every Thursday at the same time until it became ingrained in me like routine, and I told myself if I ever saw you again, I’d buy them for you.”

“I can buy my own oranges now,” you said.

“I know,” he said. “That wasn’t the only reason I came back each week.”

“Why else?” you said.

“Well,” he said. “I can’t just tell you everything in one go like that, can I?”

You scoffed. “You can.”

“But I won’t,” he said.

“But you won’t,” you said with a sigh. “Anyways. So you knew me even before we met?”

“I knew of you,” he corrected you. “Though not as a model. Just as an absurdly beautiful girl I saw in a supermarket once and thought about occasionally.”

“So it was a coincidence that you happened to be at that shoot?” you said, raising an eyebrow at him.

“When Yukimiya told us about the girl he’d be working with, Otoya looked you up,” he said. “And despite how long it had been since you last crossed my mind as well as how much longer it had been since the only time I saw you in the flesh, I recognized you immediately.”

“You have a good memory,” you said.

“So I’ve been told,” he said. “I didn’t go with any strange intentions, if you’re wondering. I only wanted to know what kind of person you actually were.”

He wasn’t a typical admirer, taken with your celebrity or your status. He was curious, not about Y/N L/N the model, but you, the girl he nearly met in a grocery store so long ago it was all but inconsequential. You wondered what it said about you that instead of being wary, you only felt all the more inclined to reveal yourself to him. You wondered if this was some lack of self-preservation, as your brother would declare it, or if this was an innate knowledge, an instinctual understanding that the man before you was different.

Maybe he was or maybe he wasn’t. You didn’t know, and maybe, on some level, you didn’t care. Taking his hand, you set it on the bag of oranges, placing your own atop it firmly, your thumb tracing his scratched knuckles.

“Buy them for me,” you said. “And I’ll tell you who I am, plainly and without fuss.”

“Is that what you consider a good deal?” he said. “I’d say you’re a bit more valuable than a discount bag of oranges.”

“Do you think so?” you said. “Fine, then. The oranges, and a pack of instant noodles.”

“Closer,” he said. “But I’m a fair person. I can’t accept.”

“You,” you said, all in a rush. “The oranges, the noodles, and you. That’s my final offer. I’ll give you everything if you give me that much.”

He didn’t even pretend to consider it. You thought that it must’ve been what he was waiting for all along, what he had been, in that way of his, leading you towards.

“You’re a tough bargainer,” he said.

“So you agree to it?” you said.

“Sure,” he said, and when he noticed your face falling at the noncommittal nature of his acceptance, he laughed. “Yes. Yes, yes, I agree. The oranges, the noodles, and me; you can have all three as you please.”

And it was odd, but just for a moment, the reprieve lasting only for as long as his breathy chuckle, your feet ceased to ache.

[eternal-love]

Hello dear, Happy New Year 💖💖💖

If its possible, can make the theme of the new story this time which is that Austin is a medieval prince with a Feyd Rautha personality type who falls in love with a black-haired girl who is the daughter of one of the palace servants and his interest in that girl begins to grow, and becomes his favorite but his mother, the queen, is completely against this and hates that girl.

DISEASE

Pairing: Prince!Austin x Servant!reader

Summary: Austin is the youngest prince, a thirf-son, spoiled, erratic, dramatic and somewhat arrogant. Spoiled by his overbearing mother. But as he grows old, he finds himself infatuated by you — a lowborn.

Warning: royals, classism, murder (poison), description is sex.

Note: Happy late New Years to you too! Sorry I took so long, I went back to work. Another thing, I’m not that good on writing Feyd for some reason but I tried my best.

All your life you were raised as a servant. Everyday was the same, you woke up, got dressed, broke your fast and then you started serving the crown. You had grown up at court, you knew everything that went through these walls.

And you absolutely knew the young Prince, everyone knew him. You served him from time to time, but he had his esquires. He had the blood from his father, that’s for sure. A womanizer by heritage, incompetent blood through and through. He was prideful, blood-thirsty, charismatic, not everyone’s taste, but, it was enjoyable being around him if you were on his good side.

The prince took quite an interest in you the time he saw you helping the Queen break her fast. He had never seen anyone quite like you. Suddenly he loathed the fact that he was only allowed to have male squires and servants on his chamber. If he had the chance to get you to bathe him, he would take you right there upon the cold walls.

And you didn’t fall behind, all you ever wanted was a taste of the Prince. You always saw him throw enormous and ridiculous feasts for the most unimportant things. You had to cope with the fact that common whores sat on his lap, not you. After all, you were just a servant.

But one day, you were requested at his chambers, as you entered, there he sat on the tub, squires and medics by his side. The Prince was always medicated, his mother thought he had to be half dazed on whatever mix the medics could come up with.

“Ah, there. Finally.” The prince stared at you, his torso wet, holding a goblet. He waved his empty hand making everyone but you leave. “You’re here to wash me. Do it.” He spoke not coldly but nonchalantly. Clearly he was a bit drunk, on wine and medicine.

“Yes, my prince.” You knelt by the tub, grabbing a rag that you drenched in the water and began scrubbing his arms. He leaned his head back, humming because of the pleasure it gave him.

“You have a far kinder touch than any of those idiots.” He groaned, his voice deep and dare you say— seductive.

Oh, this is where your mother’s words came in: ‘If you cannot defeat the powering, try to join them.’ If you became the Prince’s lover, you’d have far more privileges.

“My prince. I must say, i rejoice in having the privilege of doing this.” You spoke carefully, he opened one of his eyes, a smirk on his lips.

“Of course.” He took another sip from the goblet before chuckling.

You kept scrubbing and your fingers gently traced over his strong arms a few times. It aroused him, he tried to hold back.

You were good, no, you were great. You were able to get him to be fazed by you. And the Prince, he tried to keep you hanging around his bedchamber, in fact, you were even allowed to watch him as he practiced with swords.

You saw him snap, curse and hit his knight who helped him practice. There was one time you saw him almost slice a knight in half. To then being held by a medic and being forced to drink something out a goblet. How come you never noticed this?

The prince grew fond of you, and you grew fond of him. Cleaning his wounds, having to deal with his drunken nights, nights where he would be too honest.

“And my mother, she might love me but she thinks I’m a cunt.” The prince blabbered as you refilled his goblet of wine. “All she sees is my fucking brother. Crown Prince this, Crown Prince that.”

You listened, he was completely lost. A prince whose only dream was his dear mother loving him as much as she loved the heir.

“I just like pissing off my mother. The way she gets mad. I cannot wait until she rots.” The prince chuckled and you chuckled too. “Tomorrow, after breaking our fast, you shall sit with me at the tourney.”

You blinked a couple of times, well colored you stoked. “I shall seek to it.”

“You will enjoy the violence as much as me.”

The plan was to make the Queen mad, what other way to do it if not by dressing up a servant in expensive silks to compete for the favor of ‘The Queen of love and beauty’?

As the tourney took place, you sat by the Prince, wearing a gown that fit quite nice on your body, you seemed to quite fit in if it wasn’t for the Queen’s gazing daggers in your direction.

The prince laughed and ate by your side, he cheered and rejoiced every time a knight fell off his horse, every time someone died. And for some odd reason, you found yourself enjoying the violence as much as he did. Seeing everyone from up there, above everyone else, it made you forget that you weren’t a noble, that you belonged down there with everyone else.

The Crown Prince would compete, he asked for the Queen’s favor, and of course, he won the match. This sprung jealousy in Prince Austin. Whose gaze darkened and a minute later, he disappeared. Next thing you knew, he was up against his older brother.

“I shall have your favor.” The prince stood by the balcony. You only smiled and stood up, the ring like favor going down the lance. The Queen stared right at you, oh, he loathed you already.

“Good fortune, my Prince.” You smiled at him, leaning on the balcony’s edge. “I want to see blood.”

As the match took place, the Prince’s nature took over him, he knocked his brother out his horse immediately, not only that, but the Crown Prince broke an arm and a leg. Prince Austin rejoiced as he won, taking the small Queen’s favor from his brother’s lance and went directly to the balcony.

And he crowned you, the ‘Queen of love and beauty’. For years his mother, was always coronated by the Crown Prince. Austin was basically humiliating the Queen. And he took pride in it. His bloodied hands taking your face and leaning in to kiss you.

“My betrothed!” He exclaimed for everyone to hear, he was a third son, not even a spare. His hand was not so important after all.

The Queen could only handle so much, ahe could care less if he fucked you like a hound, if you spent more days and night on his bed than as a servant. But publicly humiliating his house, that she could not have.

As soon as the tourney finished, and after the Prince took you rightfully so in his bed to celebrate. The Queen barged into the chamber, her face showing the distaste of seeing you in bed with her son.

“You plan on to marry this lowborn whore?” The Queen asked.

“Indeed, mother, why?” The prince smirked, he stood up, talking one of the white sheets to cover himself.

“Think of the same on your father. On me!” The older woman, although terrifying, showed a bit of insecurity behind her eyes.

“It’s just harmless fun, is it not? And why care now of what I do with my hand? After all, in my whole life I have never been betrothed or let alone— cared for.”

The Queen paced around, her incompetent son got on her nerves more than she would like. She knew the cold truth, her son on the hands of a woman like you— it could be dangerous.

“Why don’t you go to wash yourself, we’ll continue this afterwards.” The prince told you, to which you didn’t mind. You left.

“You and your wench will dig your claws on the throne and will rip apart your older brother to get on top. I will burn our house to the ground before I let that happen!” The Queen raged, pointing her finger at her youngest son. Who only laughed on her face.

“Mother. This is all a game, and Andrew cannot hide under your skirts forever. He either plays or dies.” Prince Austin spoke with a smirk.

He was more than willing to play this game, and win it.

Prince Austin was sexually vulnerable, you could use him up all you wanted, make him squirm in pain and he would yearn for more. He yearned affection too. He was easy to win over with sweet words, gentle kisses and caressing.

As his new lady wife, you were expected to bear heirs for him. But you had other plans. You were now a princess, why not have more? He wanted more too, yet deep down he was too much of a coward to act on in. So you had to put in a lot of work.

“Listen to me, my love. You are the King’s true born son. You have more right than any of your kins. More than that brood of cunts.” You spoke quietly to him, as you kissed his neck with delicacy. He could only groan softly. Throwing his head back.

“My love, before this, all of you. I felt like a God without its prayers. I used to reach out my hand and no one would come to me.” He had come to adore you, he was addicted to you. Only you were able to calm him down.

You were his every night antidote, unlike everyone else, you seemed to not mind him being poisoned, from inside out.

In fact, you bedding him was his favorite thing. How you slowly straddled his lap, how you rocked your hips, how your face contorted in ways that he could only call godly, the way your moans filled the room. He would more than often hold your waist as you rode him, he would make the effort to move too. But his eyes, rolled back on ecstasy, his cock filling you up, sometimes he could not hold back the thought of giving you babes.

“We’ll have a brood of children. Boys or girls…” he kept thrusting, his hand on your waist. “I do not care. You’re already mine forever, darling. And I’ll make sure everyone knows.”

You could only moan, moving your hips in different motions, probably his sworn guard was listening to everything.

“You’ll sit by my side, you’ll have your own throne.” He said as you kissed his neck, biting him a few times, the pain making him moan.

“What is it that you want, my love?” You asked him, kissing him deeply and then pulling apart, your hands cupping his face. “Tell me what you desire, whatever you wish. I can do it for you, we will do it together.”

“I will have my throne, and the heads of my father and brothers.” He whispered.

“I see it now. Victory.”

The prince was willing to be a Kingslayer and Kinslayer for the sake of satisfying his horrid disease, that taste for having whatever he wanted and making his mother go mad.

Poison, it is a woman’s weapon. It was easy to do so. You could still recall, each one of them, the King, and two older Princes, they each of them getting sicker and sicker and then, one by one, they died in their sleep. How tragic. No one placed the Queen as Regent. The Throne now would go to none other than your Lord Husband.

The coronation, it was glorious, you stood besides the Queen, her face pale, wearing a black gown. You outshined her, you had already expected it. That woman deserved it, she had mistreated you and your mother for the longest time under her thumb when you used to serve her. Now, you would be Queen.

Austin walked towards you, you felt proud, wearing your best gown and your hair on an intricate hairstyle, you could only smile. Seeing the crowns be placed upon your heads, the smirks never left your faces. And a feast was thrown in celebration afterwards.

“Did you not want your son to be King?” Your husband asked his mother, with a mocking voice and smile.

“What mother wouldn’t?” The now Queen dowager spoke quietly, for the first time in decades, she had lost. She lost.

To put more salt on the wound, you reached the Queen and poured wine on her goblet, like the old times. You kissed her cheek.

“Mother!” You called her now, you were Queen, above than her. “Forgive me, I’m new to this and get so confused, I’m a lowborn, remember?” You feigned confusion, shaking your head slightly. “What’s the proper term to address you? Queen Mother or Dowager Queen?”

You smiled at her, to which, the Queen grabbed his goblet and poured it all on you. Or course, your husband wasn’t kind to any disrespect to you. He grabbed his mother by the hair and tugged it.

“Let me go! I am your Queen—“ Austin interrupted his mother, if she could be called that. A woman that always ignored him and never fought or cared for him.

“Y/n is the Queen. You are not, because you are no longer married to the King. Do you understand?” The way your husband spoke was scary, his gaze dark as well as his intentions. “She is not your servant, not your Lady, not anything but your Majesty. You will respect her, of I will have your tongue.”

You could only smile, although everyone stared, the music had stopped. But no one dared to interfere. The Queen stood up and with tears in her eyes, she kissed your cheek.

“Your Majesty, you are an example to us all.” She hugged you, you held her tight.

“You have such a way with words, Mother. I do wonder if you’ll be as clever when I have your tongue ripped out by your son.” You said, feigning a kind smile and tone.

“And don’t let anyone forget. Anyone’s tongue who dares to question the power my Queen, shall have it removed. Long live the Queen!” Your husband said, raising his goblet.

History, history would probably remember you as a Kingmaker and Kingslayer. You had gone from a lowborn to Queen, you had crowned your Husband. You had taken him to the top. And no one could do anything about it. No one.

And if they dated, they would have to deal with the King. After all, anyone who died because they dared to go against you, was just some disgusting blood, shed to feed the crows.

[shadowsviper]

Birds of a Feather

Thanos/Choi Su-Bong x fem!reader

The two of you have always stuck together way before the games.

Word Count: 1.4k

It's been a while since I've posted anything and I'm so sorry. Everything at school and in my life just hit me at once and I wasn't able to write at all but hopefully, I'll be writing more. I watched Squid Game while I was back home and I loved Thanos so I'll be writing more of him for a while 😭

This is pre squid game Thanos (kinda ooc 😭) but I do plan on writing more parts of him and reader being in the games.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You and Thanos, or as you knew him, Choi Su-Bong, have been inseparable since childhood. You met in school when you got paired with him for an assignment. Even though the two of you were bickering the whole time, you soon became friends. That friendship continued through your school years and into Thanos' rap career.

Ever since you two were young, Thanos always made it known that he had an interest in rap and wanted to be known for it. Some people thought he was crazy for it, saying that he wouldn't be able to succeed in that career. Despite all the things you heard behind your back, you supported him. You once told him that you would always be there for him and you stood by that promise. You even joked that you two were birds of a feather. You were there with him through all the ups and downs of his career.

Everything was going great in both your lives. You both got out of the slumps and moved on to greater things. Thanos made a name for himself when his career set off. He was always in the studio making new beats and raps. As he grew more popular, he would have performances every other week in different parts of the city. He would always come back to tell you the crazy things that happened.

While Thanos made a career in rapping, you went off to a university to continue studying. You knew that it could put you in debt, but you weren't too worried knowing there was enough money that both you and Thanos had made together. Whenever you had the time, you would follow him to see him perform. Seeing him perform live in front of hundreds of people was the best feeling. You could see how much he loved performing, how much he loved the attention.

After a year and a half, you started to notice something was weird with him. The late nights weren't the issue, you were used to that since you knew he would stay later in the studio or his performances ended late. He would often party with his friends afterward, sometimes even dragging you along if you had nothing to do.

It was the weird look in his eyes when he walked through the door. The subtle twitches you can't see unless you're really staring him down. His erratic behavior seemed to have started out of nowhere. You knew he had always been hyperactive and wasn't afraid of anything but whatever this was, it was different.

Thanos tried to hide it from you for a while. He didn't want you to think differently of him and he didn't want you to worry. He knew you already had enough to deal with in school. One of his friends had gotten some drugs one day and offered him a pill. Before that moment, he had never taken drugs. He had no idea how it would affect him. He told himself he was only going to try it once.

He couldn't have been more wrong in his life.

The instant high he got was something he immediately got hooked on. All his senses were heightened, the lights seemed brighter, and the sound around him was pounding in his head. He would be lying if he said he didn't like it. Ever since then, he had been buying more drugs from his friend. He would use them after every performance. He would make sure that he came down from his high before returning home to you.

Over time, he got used to the drugs he had now and needed more. Something in the back of his mind told him it was a bad idea but he pushed the thoughts back. Every week he would meet up with his friend, buying different types of drugs and he eventually gave in and bought a vape.

For a moment, he stared down at the newly bought drugs in his hands. He knew if you ever found out, he would probably lose you. You had always said you would stay by his side but that promise never involved drugs.

Little did he know, you were already suspicious of him. The subtle things and his recent behavior had been a giveaway. You didn't want to assume immediately but didn't know what else to think. You also noticed that he had been more reckless with your shared money. He got new tattoos almost every week if not every other week. He started to buy more designer things, from clothes to jewelry. You noticed he recently bought a cross necklace and hid it under his shirt. You thought it was weird because he had never been religious.

One day, you decided that it was time you talked to him. After getting home from school, you sat on the couch and waited for Thanos in the living room. For a few hours, you mindlessly scrolled on your phone. He had texted you earlier saying he was coming home a little early because he had nothing to do.

You looked up at the door when you heard the locks clicking. The door swung open and Thanos walked in, the same hazy look was on his face. He almost jumped when he saw you, he didn't think you would be sitting in the living room waiting for him. He shut the door behind him with a soft click.

"You scared me, Flower," he said, removing his shoes. He placed them next to yours before walking over to you.

"Didn't mean to," you said softly, reaching your hand out to him. His hand reached out, grabbing onto you. He sat down, pulling your intertwined hands closer to him. You watched as he played with your hand. "Can I ask you something?"

Thanos stopped playing with your hand for a second. He looked over at you and shrugged. "Sure."

"Have... have you been using drugs?" The question came out more straightforward than you wanted. You watched as Thanos froze.

"No," he finally said. He kept his eyes down at your hands. He didn't want to look up to see how you could be looking at him.

You squeezed his hand, hoping it would give him some comfort. "Look at me and say that again."

Thanos continued to keep his eyes down. After a few seconds, he glanced up and looked at you. He opened his mouth to speak but nothing came out. Instead, he shifted his eyes somewhere else.

That was all you needed for confirmation.

"Why?" you asked. "How long have you been doing this?"

Thanos felt like he had wronged you in some way. You had both fought to find money to stay alive and when you did you both went off to separate careers. The money you both made was shared and he was using it to buy drugs.

"A few months," he said, his voice cracking. He looked back down at your hand which was still holding his. "I didn't tell you because I didn't want you to worry. I also didn't want to lose you."

Your heart nearly broke hearing his words. Both of you had been through so much over the years but you still managed to stick together. You knew that there was no way either of you would lose the other.

You pulled your hand out of his and raised both hands, gently cupping his face. You felt his body stiffen at your touch but soon relaxed. You turned his face to look him in the eye. No matter what mask he puts on the second he walks out the door, you can always tell his emotions from his eyes. He could easily lie about something, and hide things, but his eyes would always betray him.

"You will never lose me," you said firmly.

Thanos nodded, closing his eyes and pushing his face further into your hands. You were the only person to not walk away from him. He knew he had always been hard on people and his attitude and personality drove people away but you always stayed. You were the one person who always supported whatever he wanted to do in life. He couldn't afford to lose you. He would only lose himself.

"We're birds of a feather, remember?" you chuckled, reminding him of your words when you were younger.

Thanos nodded once more, opening his eyes. He loved the soft look you always gave him. Having you nearby reminded him of how much you truly cared for him. He opened his arms, wrapping them around you, pulling you close. He felt your arms wrap around his neck, resting on his shoulders. He leaned his head forward to bury his face into your neck. You could feel his soft smile on your skin.

"Birds of a feather," he whispered softly against your skin.

[linkemon]

Romantic tropes headcanons

You can check my Masterlists both in English and Polish here. Other headcanons from Twisted Wonderland can be found here.

Consider supporting me on Ko-fi. You can also check out my commissions if you're interested.

This part contains: Riddle Rosehearts, Silver and Cater Diamond.

Riddle Rosehearts • Academic Rivals

• When he first saw your name on the school leaderboard, he was intrigued. Someone new — a mere first-year — managed to land on the podium, right behind him. That feeling, however, quickly turned into jealousy and then into hatred. You scored higher than him? Impossible! He even went to check his paper twice with Professor Trein.

• At first, he would only give you strange looks from the end of the hallway. It had to be a fluke, a one-time stroke of luck. But when you stuck your tongue out at him the second time, peeking over the results sheet, he thought he might lose his mind. His face turned bright red and his shout could be heard in several practice rooms nearby.

• And so began a battle to see who could achieve higher grades. You were constantly neck and neck, shoving test results in each other's faces. Strangely enough, you often ended up in the same places— whether practicing flying on broomsticks or brewing potions.

• All of Heartslabyul, to put it lightly, was suffering. When their leader is at war, everyone is drafted, whether they like it or not. Riddle became much more irritable. Since he couldn’t use his magic on you, he took out his frustration by closely scrutinizing his dorm members. Desperate to escape this mess, they decided to do whatever they could to ensure your defeat.

• That’s when the sabotage started — throwing obstacles in your way, which at first Riddle had no idea about. He only found out when he caught someone sneaking into the library to steal your books. Despite his fiery temper, his sense of justice demanded fairness. He caught the culprit, punished them and personally returned your books, apologizing.

• He expected you to be furious but your eyes only showed exhaustion. Fed up after a long day of studying, you invited him to sit down since he was already there. At some point, you blurted out that your parents forced you to study and you were tired of it. Riddle confessed that he understood, thanks to his mother. The rest of your study session passed in silence. But that evening, something changed. Riddle began to admire the way you pushed yourself and though his face still flushed red whenever he saw you, it was no longer for the same reasons...

Silver • Damsel in distress

• Silver is a knight through and through. Lilia trained him his entire life for this role. However, his gentle nature and desire to help others shine just as brightly as his combat skills.

• Somehow, he’s always there when you need him. Grim ran off and you need to find him? Silver just woke up from a nap thanks to your noisy companion and assures you he’ll track him down faster than you can.

• You tripped on the stairs? He was right there, catching you by the waist and gently lifting you up. For a brief moment, his face was a little too close to yours, and he apologized profusely but he simply couldn’t help it.

• You were bored and decided to watch the equestrian club meeting? He offered you a ride on one of the horses, which promptly bolted with you on its back. You were terrified but the moment Silver caught up and reined in the horse made it all worth it. Of course, he insisted on taking you back to the stables himself — for 'safety reasons'.

• Not to mention the time he used his magic to shield you from some troublemaking students, then carried you to the nurse when he noticed you’d gotten a small scratch. Sometimes, it feels like the bad luck that follows you around isn’t so bad after all — because it always brings him close. You might as well knight him as your personal protector, always saving you from trouble...

Cater Diamond • Fake dating

• When Cater suggested fake dating, you didn’t see what he could gain from it. That is, until he explained how it would help improve his image on Magicam. You didn’t have much to lose. In exchange, he promised you could keep anything you got from the sponsorships, which were piling up. Free clothes, cosmetics and gadgets were hard to turn down, especially since the headmaster wasn’t exactly helpful when it came to funding for the Ramshackle dorm.

• Your friends couldn’t believe the two of you were together. After the first picture, questions flooded in — especially from first-years and the residents of Heartslabyul. You both decided to be honest with your close friends but agreed not to let the rest of the school know. Most of them thought this was a terrible idea.

• After a while, your friends started to question whether it was really all for show. You held hands during class, gave Cater little kisses in exchange for small favours and spent entire afternoons together doing countless things. You went on 'dates' almost every week. If not for the phones constantly in your hands, they might genuinely believe it was real. Little did they know, they were closer to the truth than they thought.

• During one paid photoshoot, Cater glanced at your smiling face as you proudly showed off to a photographer a stuffed animal he’d won for you at an amusement park. His heart caught in his throat. That’s when he realized things had gone too far. When he asked you to keep your photo from the park just between the two of you, you did as he asked. Now, he stares at it at night, wondering how to fix this. What he doesn’t know is that you do the exact same thing...

[megalony]

I'm So Cold

This is my first time writing for Joseph Quinn's character Michael in the movie Hoard. This is for @missdreamofendless I hope you like it and thank you for spurring me to write it.

Taglist: @justagirlthatlovedtoread @musicistheway @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @luula @missdreamofendless @bradleybeachbabe @woderfulkawaii @amberpanda99 @daggersquadphantom @marvel-and-chicago-fan @angryknightstatesmantrash @minjix @lyje @kmc1989 @itsmytimetoodream @noonenuts @hiireadstuff @ashie-babie @classyunknownlover @jayyeahthatsme @sp1ritssz @dumb-fawkin-bitch @oliverstarksbae @gimatida @heart-35 @supernaturalstilinski @kyky9103 @gay4hotmilfs @itshamleth @chaoticnosleepinfluencer @gs29 @wh0reforsmutstuff @mel-vaz @natashamea18 @chrisevansdaughter @alexandra848484 @deena-beena-weena @targaryenluvs @kpoplover-19 @marvelmenarebeautiful @gillybear17

@zoeybennett @mrspeacem1nusone @zephyrmonkey @estella-novella @eleventhdoctorsangel @kniselle @senjoritanana @shauna-carsley @dottierose @cfdhouse51 @darkfemme1 @rainechase45 @lolalolsstuff @jupiter1700 @ashdoctor @an-aliens-ghost @lunaroserites @houseoftwistedspirits @callsignwidow @winterreader-nowwriter @reneinii @bellsbomb @western-pyro @itsgigikay @harry-satellite @midsummereve1993 @babyqueen17 @buckyyyismahhlife @sammiejane22 @mrsyixingunicorn10 @op-81-lvr-reblogs @talicat713 @niamhmbt @strawberry-canyon @bieberhoodforever @911fangirlie @hollandxxmix @jasmineee05

Main Masterlist

Summary: (Y/n) and Michael have a strange type of relationship since he came to stay with them. But when (Y/n) comes back shaken from a night of sleepwalking, Michael makes it his mission to look after her.

Enjoy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

What (Y/n) had with Michael was… different, to say the least.

It wasn't romantic, not most of the time anyway. It was unique, nostalgic and invoking.

He brought about the memories in (Y/n) that she thought were long gone, he unlocked aspects and moments from her childhood with her mum that had been repressed. And (Y/n) made michael feel like he was back in an era before he went to live with his brother. She made him want to act out those childhood memories that he thought he'd forgotten.

Their bond was strange, but (Y/n) wouldn't change it for anything. Since the moment Michael came to stay with her and Michelle, things had changed. Things became interesting. He made (Y/n) feel like she was living in a game and he changed the rules.

It had been the small things at first. The way he would brush up against her or rest a hand on her shoulder when he was walking past her or weaving behind her in the kitchen. Then it was the way he squished next to her on the sofa until their thighs were pressing together and she could feel each breath he took.

Michelle worked a lot, she always had, and now that (Y/n) had finished school, Michelle could take those extra shifts without worrying because (Y/n) was fine to be home alone.

With Michael here, that changed things. The second week of him being with them was when he'd kissed her.

(Y/n) had never been kissed like that before. She'd never felt that sense of hunger or had someone pin her against the wall like he thought he would die if she walked away from him.

Something seemed to happen whenever they were alone. Whether that was them running around the house like they were playing a frantic, grown up game of chase or whether it was them running around the streets causing mayhem in their wake. Whatever it was, something always made the days interesting and they seemed to feed off of one another.

(Y/n) loved it, but she couldn't help but want a little more. More than waiting for Michael to make the move and kiss her. More than just being someone he found fun to kiss when no one else was home because they both knew it wasn't exactly normal or 'right'.

A sigh got caught in the back of (Y/n)'s throat as she leaned against the door frame to the living room. Michelle, who (Y/n) classed and thought of as her own mother, was sat on the sofa against the back wall, nursing a cup of tea. She had Sam sat next to her, their neighbour who was more of an aunt to (Y/n) with how often she came round and helped out whenever needed.

Her girls were sitting on the other sofa, tangled together as they laughed at whatever strange, stupid joke they had come up with now. (Y/n) didn't get along with either of them, but she tolerated them. There was no other choice when she saw them almost every day and they were always coming round with their mum.

As hard as (Y/n) tried, she couldn't keep her eyes on the tv that was blasting out the news channel. There was only one person her eyes kept levitating to. Michael. Sat on the arm of the sofa, so close to the door frame that if (Y/n) leaned in just a little, her arm would undoubtedly brush against his back.

She stopped herself before she leaned and got too close. Everyone was in here. She didn't want them to notice or to cause a scene, and she certainly didn't want Sam's girls- or Michelle- knowing how close she wanted to be to their house guest.

Her fingers drummed against the door as she pulled away and filtered into the kitchen to make herself a drink. She clicked the kettle on and slumped her forearms down on the counter while she stared out into the garden.

(Y/n) found herself becoming lost in thought as she stared out the window to her left.

What would things be like when Michael eventually found his own place and moved out? Would he still stop by? Would she still see him? Would he even want to know her once he didn't live here anymore, or was (Y/n) just a way to occupy his time and find some fun before he left?

Every thought possible ran around in her mind until she found herself becoming dizzy, but a shiver scratched down her spine when she suddenly felt a body pressing up beside her.

Her head twisted to the right and she looked up, wide-eyed to see Michael stood beside her.

There was that usual half smirk playing on his lips and the way he inclined his head to the side looked like there was a question he wanted to ask her, but he stayed silent. He seemed to observe her for a moment and when his tongue slid out to drag along his lower lip while his eyes dragged unceromoniously slow up and down her body.

She stayed leaning on the counter, her lower back and bum arched out as she waited for Michael to make a move. Clearly he had come in here for a reason.

"Need something?" Her voice came out a lot quieter than she wanted and it made her dart her eyes down to look at the counter.

But her nerves felt like they had been set on fire when she felt Michael's hands on her hips before she even noticed him move. Her hands flexed and pressed against the counter when she felt him weave behind her. She wasn't sure even he knew what he was doing or what he was trying to do, he seemed to be making it up as he went along and so far, he was doing a good job.

His fingers dug into the flesh of her hips and he moved to stand directly behind her which caused (Y/n) to straighten up and press her lower waist into the counter. She was trying to give him room to walk behind her since the kitchen was the size of a shoe box, barely enough room for one person to move around, let alone two.

But Michael didn't care. Instead of moving to the side, he stepped even closer to (Y/n), moulding himself up against her back while his thumbs began to glide up and down her waist and dipped beneath her shirt.

"Excuse me," His lips hovered over the shell of her ear and (Y/n) didn't need to look to know that he was smiling as he leant over until his chest was firmly pressing down on her back.

His left hand stayed on her hip while his right arm stretched above her to open the cupboard in front of them. He pulled two cups out and set them down on the counter; he noticed (Y/n) had put the kettle on but she hadn't found herself a cup or even started to make a drink yet.

(Y/n) had the urge to say 'you're excused' which was her given sarcastic response but she was afraid that saying that would cause Michael to walk away from her. She didn't want him to move, not one inch.

Instead, her wide eyes followed him as he tilted his head to the side so he was looking down at her with that smirk that could get him anything he wanted. It probably always had.

The kettle whistled and boiled in the background, but neither of them made a move to reach over and actually start making a drink.

It felt like an eternity passed between them as (Y/n) stared at those large chocolate eyes and continuously darted her gaze down to his blushing pink lips that he kept licking and grazing his teeth against. He noticed her looking. It was clear by the way his smile broadened and he sank his teeth down into his lower lip, pulling it between his teeth as he inched his face closer to hers.

In a moment of bravery, or weakness, (Y/n) let go of the counter and carefully turned around on her heels until she was facing him. Her hips pressing bruisingly into the counter while Michael's hands stayed planted firmly on her waist. But this time, his chest was moulding against hers.

She could feel each deep breath he took, she could see every rise and fall of his chest. She could almost see his heart pulsing away in his chest which was causing the vein in his neck to throb.

She could feel his hands that were digging tightly into her waist like he was trying to imbed his fingers into her skin. She could feel his thighs pushing down on hers and pressing her legs into the counter and try as she might, she couldn't help but feel how he was pressing his groin into hers.

(Y/n) wasn't sure where she got her surge of courage from, but she moved her hands until her fingertips were lightly tracing across Michael's chest. He was wearing a vest, something he was frequently wearing unless he was going on a night out. Even beneath his work overalls he wore a vest rather than a shirt.

Her fingers traced over the discoloured cream and red vest like she was drawing patterns and she noticed Michael tilting his head down so he could watch her movements with intrigue.

One hand slithered across his chest and up the side of his neck until her hand was cradling the side of his face. Her thumb brushed across his jaw and the expanse of his cheek, feeling the beginning of stubble tickling the pad of her thumb while her fingers traced along his jaw and neck.

Michael's hand stayed on her hip, practically clenching her flesh between his fingers and her breath caught in her throat when his other hand cupped the back of her neck. Squeezing just enough so a shiver coursed down her skin and a beautiful tingling sensation spread through her nerves.

He angled her head back and surged down to attach his lips to hers. It always felt like taking a drug whenever he kissed her. It felt like (Y/n) was falling through the air and she came to a horrible crash landing when he eventually let her go and walked away from her.

Their teeth clashed as he kissed her like the world was going to end and he wanted it to burn in flames on a high note. She could feel his tongue clashing against her teeth as his surprisingly warm lips devoured hers and he leaned into her so much that her back began to bend and press uncomfortably into the counter. But she didn't care. Not as long as he kept kissing her like this.

"Are you two making a cuppa?"

Their lips broke apart with a slight gasp and (Y/n) felt her chest heaving against Michael's as he continued to press against her like he was trying to crush her.

She watched the way his eyes darted to the doorway, but he visibly relaxed when he realised Michelle wasn't stood there. She had called out from the living room.

"Yeah."

(Y/n) was glad Michael spoke, she wasn't sure she could trust her voice right now without giving away that something was going on in here.

Michael's hand left her neck which caused (Y/n)'s head to loll back and a wicked grin spread across his lips. He ducked down and attached his lips to the side of her neck, instantly sinking his teeth into her skin which caused (Y/n) to clamp her hands down on his shoulders. He couldn't leave a mark, not one that anyone could see or they would suspect and ask questions. But she didn't have the heart or the words to ask him to stop.

That was the thing about him, he felt addictive to (Y/n). He felt like a drug which she couldn't say no to. When they wandered the streets late in the afternoon causing mischief, when they ran around the house like crazed teenagers or tackled each other to the ground like they were on drugs. It was all so enticing and addictive. All (Y/n) wanted was to be around Michael and to be with him.

But she didn't know whether he wanted that, or whether he simply wanted the mayhem they created and the hyped feeling he got at the fact that they were sneaking around the house. Just like this.

The way he pressed further into her made (Y/n) bend back on the counter and she tested the waters by pushing her hips out into him which caused him to groan lowly against her neck and send vibrations through her throat.

She wasn't sure what his free hand was doing while his other hand was on her shoulder. Until she heard a familiar clink and realised he was getting more cups out the cupboard. They had been asked to pour some more drinks for the others in the living room.

It was a good job Michael had his ears tuned in to their surroundings while (Y/n) felt like her head was filling up with static and her heartbeat was vibrating throughout her system. He heard the sound of the sofa creaking and when the familiar sound of slippers against the laminate caught his attention, he moved. Fast.

His hands left (Y/n) and he sidestepped to the right so he was no longer stood between her legs, pressing up against her like he was trying to mould them into one person.

He swiped his hand across the back of his mouth and beneath his nose as he took a deep breath and shook his head to try and rid the lust from his eyes and calm down his system.

It wouldn't do him any good for Michelle to find out that the lad she was letting sleep in the living room was making out and sleeping with her young daughter. He trained his eyes on the cups in front of him and began tossing tea bags into each one while his foot anxiously tapped against the floor.

(Y/n) made him riled up, she had since the moment they met. He was always on edge around her, always so eager to attach himself to her and jump her and kiss the life out of her. He didn't know why she had such an effect on him like this, but he liked it. He liked what she did to him, even if he didn't quite understand it.

His eyes carefully glanced to the right and he managed a tight lipped smile when he saw Michelle leaning against the doorframe.

"Are you staying in for dinner?" It was clear her question was directed at Michael and he mustered the best smile he could when he felt (Y/n)'s eyes burning into him.

He could feel her arm brushing up against his as she turned around to grab the kettle and began filling the cups. And he could feel her eyes flickering up to him as if she were eagerly awaiting his response too. The other day when he was home in time to eat dinner with her and Michelle, he ended up gliding hid hand over (Y/n)'s thigh beneath the table to try and see what kind of response he gained. It had been an interesting night.

"Ah, no, thanks. I'm heading out later." He shook his head when Michelle grinned in that all-knowing kind of way and murmured 'with a girl?' but his denial only seemed to make her chuckle as she got the milk from the fridge.

A wince tore through him which he couldn't hide when he noticed (Y/n)'s expression fall and saw how she took a tiny, almost unnoticeable step away from him.

He wanted to stay, he wanted to be here. He wanted to spend all his time around (Y/n), but he didn't think he could control himself when he was around her.

Once her drink was made, (Y/n) nursed the cup between her hands and weaved around Michael, brushing up against his side as she passed. She had no reason to feel jealous or annoyed if he was going out, but she couldn't help it. She wanted to be around him. He had no idea how desperate he made her feel.

But he was staying for a few more weeks. There would be plenty of opportunities for (Y/n) to be around Michael and be with him and kiss him just like she had just now.

***

He didn't like this.

The longer he waited, the more panicked Michael started to feel.

Part of him wasn't even sure why he was worrying. It wasn't as if he was (Y/n)'s boyfriend or brother or guardian. He wasn't even a close friend, he was just the guy that was crashing at her mum's house for a while. He was the guy sleeping in the back room.

He shouldn't even be worrying or waiting up like this, it could be seen as creepy.

But when Michael got back and quietly crept in so he didn't wake anyone, he knew something was off. He just had a sixth sense that something wasn't right and when he looked around, it hit him. The door had been open, he didn't have to use his keys to get in. The door was never open this late at night, it was always locked.

(Y/n)'s keys were in the door, she had unlocked the door for something. The hallway light was on too which wasn't normal unless someone was up during the night.

Michael couldn't help it, he couldn't help but creep up the stairs and rap his knuckles on (Y/n)'s door. He kept telling himself he was being silly until he opened her door and realised she wasn't there.

She had gone out and it was late, what was he supposed to do? Was he supposed to just go lie down and try to sleep? Was he meant to wake Michelle and tell her (Y/n) had gone out when she hadn't mentioned going anywhere earlier?

It was past midnight. Only drunks an freaks would be out on the street at this time of night and (Y/n) wouldn't blend in or mingle with them. Anything could happen to her, especially if she was alone. Michael hoped she wasn't alone. He hoped she was with someone, she was less likely to be hurt or in some sort of accident if someone was with her.

His fingers began to tap down on the kitchen counter as his head lolled from left to right. He had tried to sit in the back room but he couldn't put the tv on and risk waking Michelle up and he couldn't go to sleep until (Y/n) came home and he knew that she was alright. He had tried to make himself a coffee to sober up- since he had been out drinking with the lads from work- but the cup had long since gone cold and he had barely touched it.

For what felt like the hundredth time in the last hour, Michael grabbed his phone from the counter and scrolled through the messages he had sent (Y/n). She hadn't opened or seen any of them. She hadn't responded. She didn't even have the curtesy to tell him that she was okay or tell him where she was right now.

His foot tapped incessantly against the floor as his shoulders hunched over and he tried to write out a new message to her. But before he was halfway done, the sound of the front door clicking open caught his full attention.

His head snapped up and his body straightened like he had grown three inches as his wild eyes set on (Y/n).

It was her. She was back. She was safe.

Seeing her walk through the door set off something inside Michael. It felt like a firework had launched in the pit of his gut and was now exploding through his chest, splintering off in all directions throughout his system that was now shaking and buzzing with adrenaline and anger.

Before he could stop himself he launched his phone down on the counter, barely hearing the way it clattered and bounced against the wooden counter and bashed into the toaster. He didn't care about making noise anymore and threatening to wake Michelle. She could wake up for all he cared. (Y/n) had finally come home, now she could explain.

The look of anger that was seething on Michael's face made (Y/n) wince when she meekly nudged the door shut behind her with her elbow. Her head aimed down but when she looked up through her lashes, the anger was still present and combined with how his face was now turning a dark shade of red.

"Where the fuck have you been?"

His words made her jump and the gritty tone to his low voice made (Y/n) whimper unintentionally. She didn't want to move, she didn't want to step any closer when he was clearly upset with her, but she couldn't just stand in the hallway like this.

She needed to move. She needed help.

Michael's chest continued to heave, straining against his red and white vest as his eyes focused on (Y/n). But the closer she got towards him, the more his angered expression morphed into a look of confusion.

Something was wrong. It hadn't dawned on him when she walked through the door to take in her attire. He assumed when she wasn't home that she had gone out with a friend or to a pub or something like that. But now that he looked her up and down, he realised that couldn't have been the case.

Where on earth had she gone in just a t-shirt and shorts?

"Wh- what happened?" His brows furrowed when she finally stood in front of him and he felt his heart clench when he realised she was hovering a foot away from him. As if she was too afraid to get close because he looked so frustrated with her. He didn't want her to be afraid of him, he would never want that.

When she didn't answer him, he took the initiative and stepped forward towards her instead. One hand curled around her arm but he almost pulled back in shock when he took in how cold her skin was. She felt like a block of ice, he had never known her to be so cold. And she was trembling.

He carefully hovered his other hand in front of her mouth, feeling each frozen breath she let out. And he couldn't stop himself from gliding the back of his fingers across her lips.

The feeling almost short-circuited (Y/n)'s brain. He had never touched her lips like that before, the most he had done was kiss them. His touch on her lips was so gentle and sensitive as if he thought pressing any harder would cause her to fracture. (Y/n) resisted the urge to kiss his fingers, mainly because she felt too numb and frozen to actually move.

"Your lips are blue… God, you're freezing." She was stone cold and her lips had changed to a dark shade of navy. But when Michael glanced his eyes down to see if her legs were undoubtedly as cold as the rest of her, his frown deepened. "Haven't you heard of shoes?"

Why was she barefoot? No socks, no shoes, and he would have noticed if she took them off when she came in. Why had she gone out on such a cold night in her bare essentials? What had happened for her to flee the house in such a state and become so cold? She was going to make herself sick.

Michael started to shake and his brown eyes went wide, almost fully overtaken by his pupils when (Y/n) let out a small, feeble cry. Horrible bouts of shaking scattered through her system but he wasn't sure whether she was shaking because she was frozen cold or because she was afraid or in some state of shock.

His knees bent and both hands moved to grip her arms as he crouched down a little so they were level and he could look into her petrified eyes. She had to talk to him. She hadn't spoken one word since she came in and he had to know what was going on.

"I w- I woke up near a bus stop. I had to- to walk back."

"You…" For a moment or two, Michael simply narrowed his eyes and shook his head. He didn't understand. He had no idea what that meant or what she was talking about. She had gone out. She hadn't been in bed asleep.

Another minute ticked by as Michael scanned his eyes up and down her frame before everything seemed to click into place. "You sleepwalk?"

(Y/n) hated how his expression fell and his shoulders dropped down when she nodded.

It wasn't something she openly talked about, mainly because she hadn't done this in a long time. It used to be bad when she lived back with her real mum. The doctors thought it was because of how unstable her life had been and the lack of routines she had and the combination of all that and the environment she had to live in.

Coming to live with Michelle had made (Y/n)'s life so much better in everyway. Instead of sleepwalking into the bathroom or wandering downstairs or waking up sitting in the living room, (Y/n) started to have full, proper nights sleep. She rarely sleep walked anymore and when she did it was when she was stressed. The last time was when she was stressing over her exams for school and she only walked into the living room.

She hadn't wandered out the front door in her sleep since she was thirteen. But tonight she had gone five blocks and woke up sitting at a bus stop.

A lock of shock plastered across Michael's face when (Y/n) suddenly moved. Her arms encased against his chest and her frozen cold fingers that felt like hardened clay just managed to clench around his vest. It felt like bending her fingers was going to cause them to snap off, she wasn't sure she had any blood circulation to her hands and feet anymore.

Her face burrowed into the crook of his neck and her body glued up against his front, clinging to him like he was a human radiator. She needed heat. She needed warmth and comfort and reassurance.

"I'm so cold."

Michael already knew that, he could feel how cold she was because her temperature was making him shiver and sending goosebumps prickling along his skin. She was causing the hairs on his skin to prick up in an attempt to save his own body heat.

He moved on instinct and curved his arms around her, binding one arm around her waist while the other cupped the back of her head. And before he knew what he was doing, he tilted his head down and pressed a soft, tender kiss to her temple.

The rare display of affection was shocking to (Y/n) but it was also just what she needed to stop her from bursting into fits of tears.

"Okay, okay come on." His words were hushed against her temple and his arms stayed bound around her as he slowly began to nudge (Y/n) backwards until she took the hint.

It was hard to move when her body felt like it was turning to stone but she did her best. (Y/n) tried to shuffle and it was a little easier with Michael pressed up against her, guiding her movements. He still had one hand on the back of her head and his other hand was splayed out in the centre of her back with his elbows pressing deeply into her skin.

The way his chest was moulded up against her front made (Y/n) feel like she was an ice cube that was slowly beginning to thaw and melt. The chill that had seeped into her chest was just starting to disappear as Michael's warmth surrounded every inch of her skin.

Her eyes stayed tightly closed and each cold breath she took fanned against Michael's neck where she could feel his Adam's apple bobbing up and down.

He carefully weaved them both around the door frame and guided (Y/n) into the living room. The curtains were closed and the only source of light was the small orange glow from the lamp in the corner and the faint light seeping through from the hallway which disappeared when Michael nudged the door shut with the sole of his foot.

He scanned his eyes around the living room, in desperate need of something, anything, that he could use to warm (Y/n) up and stop her from catching hypothermia.

He hummed quietly when he remembered he'd tossed his jacket on the sofa when he came back.

He leaned (Y/n) forward a little so he could snatch up the worn navy blue jacket and he carefully peeled (Y/n) off his chest so he could motion to the jacket in his hands. She looked like she was in a trance, staying unusually quiet but still compliable, allowing Michael to lift her arms and slide them into the jacket which he quickly zipped up right to her chin.

She heard him murmur "That's better," into her hair before his hands were on her hips and he was slowly tugging her along with him towards the sofa.

He flopped down on the sofa with a thud and moved his arms out so he could gently pull (Y/n) down to him. Her breath caught in her lungs as Michael manoeuvred her until she was laid in between his legs with her back against his chest. He tensed his thighs to squeeze her in his embrace but after a moment or two, it was as if something dawned on him.

(Y/n) tried not to make a sound when he pressed flush against her back and hips and his arms let go of her to weave around her. She watched with narrowed eyes full of intrigue as he pulled his knees up and began removing his socks.

"What're you doing?" Her voice still held a slight edge and rattle from how cold and dry her throat felt and from the cold that had long since seeped into her chest that felt like a hollow cavity.

"What's it look like? Warming you up, or you'll get chill blains." He spoke somewhat absentmindedly as he tugged off his woollen socks and began curling one hand beneath her ankle so he could lift her leg and put the sock on her foot. They were a bit large on (Y/n) but that was a good thing.

Once both socks were pulled halfway up her calves, Michael patted her knee before he grabbed the woollen blanket from the back of the sofa which he draped around them both.

(Y/n) allowed her eyes to close while she felt him wrapping the blanket around her front, trying to encase every inch of her body up to her neck with the blanket to keep her warm. He tucked it around his own arms and under his hips so she was effectively encased in the blanket like it was a ziplock bag.

It felt soothing to let herself relax into him and become swaddled up in his embrace. And the feeling of his hands running up and down her arms to try and get some blood and warmth running back through her veins made her body turn fuzzy.

But it was the feeling of Michael's lips pressing against the top of her head and how he breathed into her hair that made (Y/n) want to melt into a puddle right there.

He didn't seem to know the effect he had on her. He didn't know how his touch made her shake for an entirely different reason. He didn't realise how every kiss he pressed against her skin made her fall for him more and more and how being so close to him made (Y/n) afraid that when he let her go, it would be the last time.

"You do this a lot?"

She almost didn't hear what he said over the sound of his heartbeat thudding away like his heart was trying to help show hers how to beat properly.

"Used to… haven't for a while." (Y/n) shrugged against him and burrowed down a little more while she bound her arms around her chest and nuzzled her nose and lips into the familiar blanket wrapped tightly around them. "Normally happens when I'm stressed." She added quietly after a minute.

She felt Michael's hands slow down their frantic rubbing up and down her arms until he switched to squeezing her arms and softly stroking the rough pads of his thumbs along her arms.

His chest was arched over her, pressing into her back while his knees began squeezing and pressing into her thighs. She could feel each breath he took while his lips stayed merged against the back of her head. He sounded like an animal. Like he was riled up, ready to lunge at the slightest sound or disruption.

"Anyone could have grabbed you, if you didn't wake up-"

Just the thought of what could have happened, what might have happened, sent Michael's head reeling and had his own body quaking with frustration and paranoia.

What would he have done if she didn't come home? He would have gone out looking for her, but he wouldn't know the first place to look.

Someone could have seen (Y/n) wandering in a trance-like state and they could have snatched her. They could have taken her, kidnapped her, hurt her. They could have done anything she chances were if she didn't wake, she wouldn't know or fight back or utter one word.

She could have walked out into traffic and got hit by a car. She could have had an accident and froze to death waiting for someone to pass by and help.

It seemed too good to be true that she actually managed to wake up when she did and found her way home before she became too sick or disorientated.

The endless list of frightening possibilities made Michael growl into her hair as he tried to rid each and every thought from his mind that was beginning to go on overload.

"I was scared, Michael."

She kept her eyes closed so she didn't have to look up and see his expression when she turned her head. Her face tucked into his neck again and she felt the sharp breath he took as her words stunned him. The feeling of his lips against her temple made (Y/n) sigh into his skin but it was the feeling of his right hand slithering out of the blanket to cup her cheek that made her freeze.

His arm pinned over her chest and his hand cupped the side of her still frozen face. The pad of his thumb traced across her cheekbone and down towards her jaw while he pressed kiss after kiss against her temple. Not realising that he had started to sway them both from side to side.

"You're home now, alright? I'll- I'll keep an eye on you." He wouldn't let her go. If she had told him sooner that she had a tendency to sleep walk, he would have been more vigil at night.

He would have made sure to listen to each sound he heard during the night, he would have been on red alert for any movements that didn't sound normal. He would have done something to make sure she was safe. Hell, Michael probably wouldn't have gone out or stayed out so late tonight if he knew (Y/n) went sleep walking from time to time.

With a deep breath, Michael shifted just a little so he could lay back against the cushion so he was laid down with (Y/n) reclined against his chest. He kept his arms bound around her and his lips stayed merged with her temple

"Get some sleep, yeah? If you wake or try and wander or some shit, I'll be here."

(Y/n) finally peeked her eyes open so she could try and glance up at him, but Michael had his eyes closed and he looked like he was already on his way to falling asleep himself.

"But… if mum sees…"

As much as (Y/n) was desperate to stay wrapped up in Michael's arms like this until the world ended, it wasn't practical. What if Michelle came downstairs early in the morning and saw them tangled up together like this? She wouldn't be happy. She might kick Michael out and (Y/n) was already panicking about the day he would eventually move out in case he wouldn't want to see her again.

But right now, Michael didn't seem to care. He wasn't letting (Y/n) wander back up to bed to be on her own, not in this state. Not after what she had just been through. She was staying here with him where she was safe and he could look after her.

"Right now, I don't give a shit. I'm not letting you out of my sight." As if to prove his point, he encased his arms tighter into her frame and hooked one leg over hers like he was a set of vines caging her in a trap.

It was comforting. It was lovely and warm and heavenly to be overwhelmed by Michael right now and have him thawing her out and telling her that he wasn't letting her go. He didn't want to be out of her sight, he wanted her right here so he knew she was warming up and safe and not about to go wandering in danger again.

With the little energy that she had left, (Y/n) wriggled onto her right side and curled her legs up towards her stomach, trying to make herself more compact in an attempt to keep warm.

A shiver rattled through her when she felt Michael's thumb glide across her cheek as he cracked one eye open and looked down at her.

She was sure he murmured "You're still cold," but she wasn't sure whether it was a statement or something which required an answer.

But she gasped when she felt Michael's arms bind tighter around her and he twisted them around in less than a second. Her arms stayed encased to her chest and she closed her eyes until Michael had her back pinned against the sofa and he was hovering on top of her instead.

His face tucked into the crook of her neck while he pulled on the blanket so it was safely encased over him and tucked around (Y/n) to keep the heat surrounding her. His lips attached to the side of her throat as he switched between kissing her skin and simply breathing against her throat to try and heat her up.

(Y/n) lifted her arms just a little so her fingers could graze along Michael's neck but she could already feel her mind beginning to settle down. Suddenly the thought of her mum walking in on them like this didn't spark adrenaline in her system anymore. Suddenly nothing else seemed to matter except how tightly Michael was holding her and how warm he was making her feel.

It felt like she was starting to sway as her mind slowly started to switch off, but she knew she heard Michael correctly when he started whispering into her skin.

"You don't know what you do to me. I've never felt like this with anyone else."

[crowsofdarkness]

Arranged: Chapter One

Pairings: Mob!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: language, 18+ smut(ch 12& ch 17), angst, fluff, mentions of death and violence. I will update the warnings with each chapter.

Summary: Reader would do anything to make her parents happy and that included agreeing to an arranged marriage. She never expected it to be to one of New York's most feared Mob Boss: Bucky Barnes. He is anything but loving towards Reader however when her parents are mysteriously killed, Bucky makes it his mission to find out who were at fault. And in the process, ends up coming close to losing Reader.

Authors Note: This was a story of mine on an old blog and I wanted to publish it on here. Since it's quite a long fic, I've decided to slowly updated it chapter by chapter. If anyone who is interested wants to be tagged, let me know!

I sighed while looking up at the large mansion in front of me, bags placed neatly behind me. The driver gave me a curt nod and with a smile of thanks, I saw him on his way before looking back at the mansion; my new home. 

Anger radiated throughout my insides when I thought of the reason why I was in this mess in the first place. 

My parents. I loved them to death, they would do anything for me and I for them. 

I was to be married off and not to any regular man. In a week's time, I was going to be married to New York’s highest feared mob boss. Confusion filled me at first when I couldn’t quite understand why they thought this was a great idea but deep down I knew why they did it. They wanted the best for me, to be set up for the rest of my life and not have to worry about anything. Which is exactly why they set up this arrangement. 

With a soft sigh, I ascended the staircase up to the front door and softly knocked, the nerves attacking me. I bounced on the soles of my heels as I waited. 

The door opened, revealing a small, older lady who had a confused expression. “Can I help you?” 

I nodded. “Uh, hi. My name is Y/N Y/L/N, I believe Mr.-.”

Her eyes lit up while furiously nodding. “Yes, come in.”

With a smile, I went to drag my bags inside but she waved me off. “Don’t you worry about that. I’ll have someone grab that and bring it to your room.” 

She motioned for me to follow her inside and that’s when I took in my new home. A large grand staircase twisted and turned upstairs, and one hallway to my right and another towards the left. 

“I’m Barb. I’m here for whatever you need,” the older lady smiled. 

My own matched hers. “Thank you, Barb.” 

“So,” she motioned to the hallway on my left. “If you go down that hallway you’ll find the rest of the house; kitchen, living area, gym, a couple bathrooms, and the laundry room.” 

She then pointed to the hallway on my right. “Down here is an empty room that’s been used for storage and his office. He doesn’t like to be bothered unless it’s an emergency. A good rule to live by: Door open means come in, door cracked means ask, door closed means turn your back and walk away.” 

I quirked a brow. “You know from experience?” 

“I’ve been taking care of this house and him for the last 10 years. A little piece of advice?” 

When I nodded, Barb continued. “He may come off as an asshole sometimes but he really is a sweet loving man.” 

Her words warmed my heart. I had heard rumors about him, everyone has. They weren’t positive ones either. There was a reason why he was the worst feared mob boss of New York. 

“Upstairs is where the bedrooms are,” She motioned for me to follow, which I did. 

Once we reached the top of the stairs she nodded towards two closed doors. “The door on the left is the master bedroom and that one across the hall is yours.” 

“Wait, we’re not sharing a room?” I questioned. 

Barb shook her head. “He doesn’t want to pressure you. He already knows that you weren’t too fond of this arrangement so he wanted you to have your own space  until you’re ready to stay with him.” 

I could only nod, not sure what to say exactly, so Barb opened my bedroom door allowing me to step inside. 

The room wasn’t anything special, I mean it was the size of my old apartment so the extra space was nice and the bathroom was breathtaking with the large tub facing the large open fields behind the home. But what caught my attention was the large bouquet of roses on the bedside table and a gorgeous floor length black dress lay on the edge of the bed with a note. 

Dinner tonight. I’ll meet you at the bottom of the stairs at seven. 

B.B.

“Where is he anyway?” I asked Barb while shedding off my coat, letting it drop onto my bed. 

“In a meeting but should be finishing up soon. Feel free to have a look around and make yourself at home. Just make sure to check his-.” 

“Check his door before entering,” I finished Barb’s sentence with a smile. 

Barb waved goodbye, letting me be by myself to settle in. However, just as I was about to call after her for my bags, a large blonde walked into my room and placed all of my things in the doorway. 

I knew in the way that the muscles in his back and arms flexed that carrying all of my things didn’t bother him. He stood tall before a smile peaked out from underneath his beard and he slicked back his long blonde hair out of his face. He was dressed in a light blue dress shirt and dark dress pants, the shirt bringing out the blueness of his eyes. 

He definitely had to work for him. 

“That should be everything.” 

I nodded at him. “Yeah, thank you, uh-.”

“Steve Rogers. But you can call me Steve,” he extended his hands. 

Hesitantly I placed my own in his and with his size, I was shocked at how soft his grip was; almost as if he was afraid. Our hands lingered together for a few more beats before he dropped his hand away and stuffed them into the pockets of his pants. 

“Do you need anything?” Steve asked. 

“I think I’m good, thank you.” I gave him a smile. 

“Of course but if you do, let me know. I’ve been assigned to you.” 

I squinted my eyes at him. “Assigned?” 

“Your bodyguard. You’re not allowed to go anywhere without me,” Steve informed.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” I cursed, suddenly feeling the anger that was dormant since before I walked into this house. 

“I don’t need a babysitter.” 

Steve hesitantly nodded. “I understand but he insists.”

Not saying another word, I pushed past Steve and sprinted down the stairs towards the office, not caring to look to see what his door was like. I may have agreed to this marriage, reluctantly, but I did not agree to have a babysitter and be followed around everywhere I went. I needed to have some rules in this arrangement. 

Thankfully the door to his office was cracked but I didn’t bother to ask if I could come in. 

“You’ve got some fucking nerve,” I seethed as I entered. 

He was in the middle of sitting on his green velvet couch and crossed his leg over his other knee. Even underneath his smirk, I knew he was upset about my barging in. I was so angry about this that I didn’t even notice how breathtaking he looked under the faint light that emanated from the lamps next to his couch. But then once the anger dissipated slightly, my gaze fell onto his left arm as he ran a hand over the stubble on his chin and an audible gasp fell through my lips when I realized that the biggest rumor about him was true. The light brushed off the metal, his fingers poking out of the sweater he was wearing.

“Sit,” he pointed to the chair across from him. 

I stood my ground while crossing my arms over my chest. “I don’t need a fucking baby sitter, Barnes.” 

“Call me Bucky.” 

I wanted to wipe the smug smirk off of his face. 

“I can take care of myself,” I stated flatly. 

“I’m sure you can but given my reputation, I think it’s best. Steve’s one of my best men, he’s worked for me since the beginning. I trust him.” 

My soon to be husband leaned back into his couch, resting the different arm across the back of it. If he noticed me staring, he made no comment about it, only nodded to the chair across from him once again. 

I ignored him, yet again. 

“Next time you make a decision about me or how I’m going to live around here, run it by me first alright?” I suggested. 

Bucky’s eyes turned dark. “You do know who you’re talking to, right?” 

I scoffed. “I don’t give a fuck who you are, James Buchanan Barnes. The only reason why I’m here is because of my parents and their wishes.” 

We were interrupted by a knock to the door, a group of men clutching briefcases close to them. 

“I thought our meeting was scheduled for four,” one of them said. 

These men screamed ‘sketchy’ and knew whatever kind of meeting they were about to have was going to be one that I shouldn’t be around for. 

Bucky nodded. “We were just finishing up here.” 

He then turned his attention towards me. “We can finish this discussion during dinner.” 

“Consider this conversation over,” I muttered while storming out of the room, letting the door slam behind me.

[amiaclone]

HEYYY, Can i please request a Front man (001) X male reader? like they basically fell for each other in the games? you can choose whatever happens next or if their headcannons!

Tw: Cursing

Front man x Male! Reader

Being friends with Gi hun can be fun! It has flaws though

Like being involved with his plan to end “these games” and now us both are trapped in said game again and could die

You were terrified and half the people disinterested you or terrified you either way you stuck with Gi Hun

However you did meet someone that interested you

In ho what a dick you didn’t trust him at all

Listen you never participated in the games but maybe it’s the way he was always staring at you with that cocky smirk

It twisted your stomach in a way the way he’d eye your body language up and down….

It seemed like every word he spoke was a test it was unnatural and creepy

Why did your face flush every time he looked at you though?

It really is a strange world

Anyways here you are a night before Gi hun goes with his plan honestly you really didn’t wanna do it

Sacrifice other players? Shoot a million of guards? It was illogical unfortunately nobody seemed to agree with you though…..

You couldn’t help but feel In ho seemed *too* into the idea

You were supposed to go alone with him

You were never alone with him no matter how strong these feelings were you mainly tried to avoid him

“So that’s the plan how does it sound everyone?”

Gi huns voice woke you up from your mid to paying attention daydream

You blinked twice waiting for the others to reply pretending as if you were in game

With a few acknowledgements of agreements except for you In ho quirked an eyebrow

“Alright y/n?”

You stared at him with an almost panicked look staring at him why were you so tense around him?? Fu-

With an awkward cough you nodded your head anyway “Sure this plan will probably fail but all we can do is try…” you mumbled sarcastically

Not much later lights out was cue in a few minutes

You decided getting a early night rest was the best but while you relaxed you stared at the left side where some beds were there was In ho

Staring at you

You stared back what was his problem what was your problem why was your face feeling red-

“Lights out!”

And just like that it was pitch black

You turned your head pretending to be in some deep slumber

For five minutes…

Ten minutes…..

Nearly an hour

Dammit! Why can’t you sleep?!

Maybe you needed to go to the bathroom? But it’s lights out they probably won’t let you…..

…

Well you can atleast try right?

Here you were walking steadily to the bathroom it was pitch black your only source of light the piggybank filled with the money from the loss of peoples lives…

You really hope Gi Huns plan works

You walked towards the bathroom as quietly as you can unaware of the eyes following you

“Uh excuse me?”

You knocked on the door outside to the bathroom seeing a triangle guard guarding it

“Uh can I…..use the restroom?”

“It’s unacceptable to use it at night”

You sighed obviously you knew that

Before you could even say anything else a voice interrupted you

“There with me I need to use it too they have some problems…”

You blinked seeing In ho standing in front of you the guard barely seemed to buy it

“Ten minutes”

You walked in with In ho following behind

“Uh thanks”

There was the awkward tension again

He only smiled “It was nothing I needed to use it myself I’m shocked they actually agreed..”

You nodded “The funny thing is i don’t think i needed to go to the bathroom i just needed space to clear my head”

He nodded understanding “Well if you wanna talk I don’t mind as according to the triangle we have ten minutes…why is something bothering you?”

You sighed “I don’t know this game is a bothersome already but….do you think Gi Huns plan will really work?”

He seemed to ponder in thought for a bit

“Well there’s many ways it couldn’t but I believe Gi huns a stubborn man so I believe it’s possible…why do you think we’ll fail?”

You sighed “I don’t wanna sound pessimistic but the plan is really illogical plus I don’t wanna sacrifice other lives to save other lives…that’s the whole reason we came here in the first place to save everyone”

In ho seemed to be taking everything in he seemed almost out of it for a bit “Well what do you think we should do?”

You sighed “That’s why I didn’t say anything I don’t know what to do the games are rigged like this so only one or two people at best can win…..I hate to be pessimistic but we’re all gonna die in here.”

In ho stared at you in silence for a second a small smirk took place

“You’re really fucking strange you know that? You make me…..feel all these things”

“What?” You could only muster in confusion

There was the tension In ho stepped closer and in not even seconds In ho placed his lips roughly across yours you kissed back

He backed away sighing the tension finally felt good…..why?

He smirked “Well let’s see you tomorrow”

[pedrospookie]

Don’t Look Back

Jackson!Joel Miller Angst

a/n: hi! this is my first foray into writing angst— I thought a lot about this story and owe @slimybeth69 so much credit for holding my hand through it, helping me brainstorm and looking over parts of this for me. I was super inspired by the myth of Orpheus and this idea came to me. It might be crap, i will not be offended if you think it’s crap. I do recommend reading this lil blurb about the myth of Orpheus as it will be referenced (slightly) throughout the story. The synopsis is based on my personal knowledge and a blurb found on Britanica. There are many amazing, proper editions of this myth and I recommend reading that for more information if you are interested!

the events are not 100% canon — don’t come for me okay? they do take place in TLOU 2 but they aren’t perfect or factual, I just shaped it to fit the narrative of this story.

thank you to @saradika-graphics for the beautiful dividers 🤍

tw: angst, death, mentions of suicide, mentions of suicidal thoughts, grief, lots of hard feelings, falling out with family, overall sadness, Minors DNI!

In the Greek myth of Orpheus, son of Apollo and Calliope, he was gifted a lyre by Apollo. Orpheus’ singing and playing were so moving that animals and even rocks and trees moved about him in dance. He then married Eurydice, the love of his life who was taken from him too soon. Bitten by a snake on the day of their wedding, she was sent to the underworld, leaving Orpheus in the world of the living. Orpheus went to the underworld to beg Hades for her return. His music and grief moved Hades so much that he allowed Orpheus to bring Eurydice back to the world of the living, under one condition: upon leaving the underworld, the couple were not permitted to look back. They walked towards the world of the living, and in celebration of seeing the sun, Orpheus looked back to Eurydice and she disappeared. Some tales say that Orpheus sat at the entrance to the underworld, lamenting and playing his lyre for the rest of eternity until the Gods took pity on him and put him out of his mercy, allowing Orpheus to reunite with Eurydice in the underworld. 

Joel’s body groaned awake, the sneaking rays of sun gently climbing through his shaded windows, caressing the fine lines that rested on his face. With a grunt, he slowly moved out of bed, stretching his neck and back after a long night of rest. 

Today was an average day for Joel; a simple shift at the stables, minding the horses and mending whatever was in need of mending at the barns, then a pit stop at The Tipsy Bison on his way home.

Things had been quiet since Ellie left. He hadn’t quite found a way to mend the hole she left in his heart. While Tommy and Maria had initially made an effort to include him socially, or pop over for visits with his nephew, the young child reminded him too much of the children he lost. His time in Jackson had softened him, allowing that small glimmer of hope to shine in his chest that maybe, just maybe, he would see Ellie again. That she would come back to him. That she would forgive him. But hope is futile. 

As Joel made his way outside, he noticed the weathered guitars that sat by the front, covered in a thin layer of dust, yearning to be strummed once more. Isn’t that how Orpheus died? Strummin’ ‘n cryin’ til the gods put him outta his misery? Joel thinks to himself, turning away from the lonely instruments and heading down his front porch. 

He could remember it clear as day— Sarah had come racing in the door with a new book from the school library. A tattered novel filled with Greek myths and photos of ancient ruins. She would spend hours explaining the myths and lessons behind them to Joel, a hot topic of discussion at breakfast. 

“What kinda idiot looks back!?” She scolded the God, baffled how he could have failed his relatively easy and simple promise to Eurydice. 

“Maybe he loved her so much that he couldn’t help it? He had to see her?” Tommy shares as he takes a bite of his toast. Joel shot him a look of confusion, eyebrow raised and a scowl forming on his lips, resulting in an innocent shrug from Tommy. 

”What! You ain’t ever loved a gal so much you couldn’t not look at ‘er?” He laughs, his words striking Joel right in the chest. 

He had. 

That is how he felt the moment he held Sarah for the first time. The small babe, barely large enough to fit in the palm of his hand, cradled gently into his chest. He knew from that moment that she would be the love of his life. He had never felt a love like this before, not even for her mother. Joel would go to hell and back for Sarah, make a deal with any devil, but he also knew that if she had been stripped from him like Eurydice, he would look. He couldn’t bear not to see his girl. That would kill him. 

Hell, it nearly did.

Much like Eurydice, Sarah had died knowing she was loved. In that final look back, cradled tightly in Joel’s arms, she knew he loved her. 

Joel felt his heart ache for his lost girls. The ones he tried to save. The ones he couldn’t save. He understood that bastard Orpheus now. That all-consuming grief and to have felt it not once, but twice? It was nearly unbearable. If he could, Joel too would lament forever, sitting on his porch with his guitar, letting the strings weep the tears Joel refused to shed.

It’s moments like this where Joel wishes he hadn’t flinched on that day early into the outbreak. But Joel had to keep walking. He had to. He couldn’t let himself fall back into the sounds and memories of the past, rewatching them play over and over in his mind, being harshly reminded of his mistakes — his failures — his inability to save the people he loved. If that small glimmer of hope that lived deep within his chest said anything to Joel, it was that he had to keep walking. If he had any chance of fixing things with Ellie, he had to keep walking. He learned his lesson, or so he thought. He couldn’t look back. 

A stillness fell over Joel as he approached the barn, its ancient wooden structure patched together like an old quilt. There was a spark of anticipation that lingered in the air, something Joel couldn’t quite put his finger on. It made his skin prickle and the gentle curls on the back of his neck stand on high alert. His heart stopped as he scanned the horizon for clickers or raiders, wondering if his subconscious was trying to tell him something. 

As Joel rounded the corner to the barn, the only sound to be heard was the soft munching of hay and Dan mumbling to himself. Dan was a familiar face from patrol, someone who had done several shifts with Joel over the years. A fairly decent guy who just wanted to get the job done and go home to his wife, something Joel respected. 

Commotion arose as Joel started to step into the stables. The large doors to the barn swung open with a thundering bang, sending the horses into a wild frenzy, bucking frantically in every direction. A flash of panic skates across Dan’s face as he tries to calm the horse in his grip, dropping a bucket of apples in the process.

“Shh, shh, it’s okay girl.” He tries to soothe the wild horse beside him, holding the reigns for dear life, as he puts his free hand out to calm another.

”What the fuck is going on, Dan!?” Joel yells across the barn, trying to be heard over the high pitched squeals and neighs coming from the band of horses. He rushes in, arms spread to try and tame the majestic creatures. Joel could see Dan lift his gaze towards him, a puzzled look on his face, eyes squinting at Joel before his attention was brought back to the horse beside him, a sharp neigh piercing their ears. 

“Shimmer, shhh, don’t worry! She’ll be here soon t’see you.” Dan continues to murmur to the horse, petting her snout as he slowly coaxes her. 

Shimmer? S’in Ellie’s horse?? Ellie’s here!? Joel’s mind races— how’d no one tell me that Ellie was here?! 

“Dan! Ellie’s here!?” Joel frantically shouts over the horses again, his heart rate skyrocketing as he tries to tame them into a calmer state. Out of the corner of his eye, Joel notices his horse, Callus. Slowly approaching the large animal, hand out reached to the bucking stallion, murmuring sweet words of endearment, coaxing the animal back into a calmer state. 

I knew ya were a good horse, Joel smirks to himself as he gives Callus some gentle pats of encouragement. He quickly focused back on the bucking mare in front of him, trying not to get kicked in the side of the head.

”Dan, buddy! A lil help here!!” Joel yells back again, trying to catch his buddies attention as he puts his hand out to the mare.

“Oh shit, I’m gonna be late!” Dan hisses, petting shimmer one last time before racing out of the barn, leaving Joel with the tantruming horses. 

“And I’m the one with shit hearing.” Joel grumbles, rolling his eyes as he starts to surrender to the horses, nervously backing away from the squealing animals and towards his own. 

“What happened buddy?” Joel asks Callus as if he could reply, gently petting the animals’ long snout. Joel had such loyalty to the steed, he had gotten Joel out of many sticky situations and home safe more times than he could count.  The gentle affection that Callus gave him was often the only affection Joel received these days. The horse whines in response, as if he was griping along with Joel, turning to nuzzle his head into Joel’s shoulder. At least you love me, Joel thinks to himself as he brushes the velvety fur of the large animal. He sees the other horses in the pen continuing to grow restless, bucking their legs in the air and bleating. 

This was out of character for the horses, especially Ellie’s horse Shimmer. She knew Joel and was easily calmed by him, yet his presence was working her up even more. What in the hell is out there that spooked them? This couldn’t just be because of the door?

Joel could feel the panic starting to rise in his chest, it’s one thing to control one wild horse, but an entire barn full?! This was beyond Joel’s scope, he had to call in reinforcements to get these horses settled. 

“I’ll be back.” He promises Callus, patting him once more on his back hip before sprinting out of the barn. 

That lingering feeling continued to fill Joel with dread. He scanned the area for anyone who would possibly help him, but the area was sparse. Where is everyone? Was there something going on that he didn’t know about? What did the horses know that he didn’t?? Were they all with Ellie? Where is Ellie? Fuck, did something happen to Ellie?!

Something inside of Joel started to twist and turn. What the fuck was going on? Why didn’t someone come to tell him? Where the fuck was Tommy? 

Tommy. 

That mother fucker. Whatever is going on, Tommy either knows and isn’t saying anything or he should know and is completely oblivious to the weirdness among town today.

Making good on his word, Joel returned to the barn to see Callus one last time. His noble steed had moved from his resting place in the hay to a windowed spot by the barn door, as if he was anxiously waiting for Joel’s return. 

As Joel approached, poking his head through the little window, he was shocked by the sudden calm that had fallen over the horses. What the actual fuck?

”They musta seen a snake ‘r somethin’, eh buddy?” Joel mumbles slowly under his breath to the horse, patting his snout again as he tries to piece together the odd scene that had just played out in front of him. 

Joel’s mind was filled with questions as he walked back towards the bar to find Tommy. These swirling questions were trying to wrap themselves around the strange events of today. Today was supposed to be a normal day. He felt sick, knowing that Ellie was in town and not a single soul came to tell him. Not even his own brother. Yeah, they weren’t on speaking terms at the moment after a whiskey fueled blow out a few weeks after Ellie left. Tommy just didn’t know when to fucking stop talking sometimes— there was no comparison to Ellie, let alone Sarah —and yeah, Joel loved his nephew but Tommy sayin’ that the kid could fill the gap that those girls left in Joel’s heart was dumb. And Joel told him so. In less kinder language, but he told him so. With a broken whiskey tumbler and a slammed door, The Miller brother’s stopped speaking to one another.

But Tommy would tell him that Ellie was back? Even if they weren’t speaking? He knew what this would mean to Joel. 

Unless Tommy hated him too. 

Sarah would be so disappointed. Seeing the two of them like this? The only family she ever knew split up and not speaking. She would be embarrassed of Joel, of his immature behaviour and hardened manner. This wasn’t the kind, loving dad she once had. She would have marched Joel over and made him apologize, immediately— with warm cookies! To which Joel would have mumbled something about how Tommy would probably prefer a cold case of beer, but nope! Warm cookies. 

Joel silently promised her that once he got things sorted with Ellie, he would go over to Tommy’s and properly apologize. He may not know how to bake cookies, but he’d find something. Something of the likeness of Sarah to help bandage the emotional wounds he caused. He would vow to do better, if not for himself, but for the sake of Sarah. 

A flash of auburn hair pulled Joel from his thoughts— was that Ellie?

His pace quickened as he tried to follow the girl, trying to confirm that it was in fact Ellie. She suddenly stopped in her tracks, suspiciously looking over her shoulder towards Joel. 

Holy shit, it was Ellie.

Before Joel’s brain could register that it was her, his lungs were screaming out, hands cupping his mouth to amplify his dark, gravely voice. Without a single flinch, she kept moving, ignoring Joel’s call and entering the thick wooden doors of The Tipsy Bison. 

Fuck, she must be really mad, Joel thinks to himself, feeling that small glimmer of hope that lived deep in his chest slowly shrivel up and disappear as he approaches the enterance to the bar. Tempted to go in after her, yet Joel couldn’t bring himself to go in. Ellie needed space, she has made that abundantly clear. The least Joel could do was respect it. 

He couldn’t blame Ellie— what he had done to her was unfair — stripping her of one of the few choices she had in this fucked up world, and then to lie about it? That was the worst thing he could have done. At his grown age, he should know this by now, having lectured not one but two daughters and a mangey brother about how awful lying is. “I can’t help you if you lie, Sarah”, “I can’t get you out of trouble if you aren’t honest with me, Tommy”, “Ellie, lying hurts peoples feelings”, “When you lie, I can’t trust you, Joel.” 

He was trying to protect her. Even with the best intentions, much like that bastard, Orpheus, he fucked up. This was a possibly irreversible mistake with severe consequences, and that killed Joel. Nearly more than the guilt he had harboured holding onto that lie. Letting it grow and wrap itself around his insides like a big fat, hairy tumor with teeth.  He had to let it out because Ellie deserved the truth. And while the repercussions of his actions may be the very death of him, he had no regrets. He would do it again, and again, in every life, to save Ellie. 

The one daughter he could save. 

If this is his penance, so be it. At least he knew she was safe and home. Maybe Tommy or Maria will talk some sense into her, help her understand why Joel had done what he had done. Or at least help her find the grace to forgive him, even just a little. And if she’d give him the chance, he would do anything and everything to fix this. A clean slate, a new leaf— whatever Ellie needed Joel would do.

She looked older, her hair longer than it had been when she left, half up in a way that reminded Joel of Tess. He wondered what kind of adventures she had been on and how things were going with Dina. He wanted so desperately to give her the copy of Back to the Future that he had found on a scouting mission a while back, remembering their extensive conversations about it and wanting to hold true to his promise to her. Maybe Tommy could be the middle man? He thought, leaning against the rickety planks that made up The Tipsy Bison. 

He was so lost in thought that he nearly missed Ellie leaving the bar, walking fiercely in the direction of Joel’s home, mumbling under her breath. Her shoulders were hunched over, hugging her arms close to her body as she marched forward, leaving Joel trailing behind. 

“Ellie, wait!” Joel shouts, trying to catch up to her brisk pace. 

“—I don’t even know how we even got here,” Ellie gasps out, her voice muddled and dry. It sounded like she had been crying. 

“Got where, Ellie? What’re you talkin’ ‘bout?” Joel asks, still a few steps behind the girl, trying to respect her space. “What happened?” He prods softly, following her around the corner into their neighbourhood. 

“It’s just all so fucked up! Fuck!” She sobs, kicking a neighbours mailbox, wincing gently at the impact of her foot to the wooden post. Joel felt himself grimace at her anger, he knew this was his fault. He deserved her silence. There were a million things that he wanted to say to Ellie, but he knew at that moment that the best thing he could do is shut up and listen. 

“I don’t even know what the fuck you’d want, Joel.” She sighs, stopping as she approaches the front steps of what was once their house, leaning gently on the little black mailbox that has “The Miller’s” scrawled across it in white paint. 

“I want whatever will make you happy, Ellie. I will do whatever I got to t’build your trust again.” Joel murmurs softly, still a respectful distance from Ellie, watching her trace the white letters with her fingers, a single tear falls from her cheek as she looks up towards his house. Joel watches Ellie sigh deeply, the rise and fall of her shoulders giving her courage to move forward up the steps to their house. 

She’s home. These are baby steps! This is a start. For the first time in ages, Joel could believe that little glimmer of hope in his chest. He could feel it radiating warmth throughout his body, tightening his throat as he sucked back happy tears that threatened to fall. His girl was home. 

He followed Ellie up the steps, watching as she paused to grab his guitar. The lonely guitar that had waited so patiently for its duet partner to return, ready and waiting to be strummed once again. She held the neck delicately, blowing some of the dust off of the polished wood, her small hands holding the guitar close. Her soft grasp was juxtaposed with a sudden rigidity in her back and shoulders. 

“I’m gonna find who did this to you.” She hisses, opening the door to the house and slamming it, leaving Joel stunned on the porch.

What in the fuck was she talking about? Who was she talking about? Confusion once again swirling around in Joel’s head for the millionth time that day. He went to reach for the door knob when the front door suddenly swung open, Ellie barreling through with her arms filled with some of Joel’s possessions; a Linda Ronstadt record, some flannel shirts, the watch that Sarah gave him and his guitar strapped to her back. 

“Where in the hell are you goin’ off with my stuff?!” Joel barks, furious at the thievery taking place before his eyes. The least Ellie could do was ask, she knows he would say yes! Ellie continues to ignore him, marching back towards The Tipsy Bison, rambling on and on about how she is going to get payback. 

Payback for what?

“Ellie, can y’please just stop for a fuckin’ minute ‘n throw me a bone here? Y’re runnin’ off with my stuff, the least ya can do is acknowledge me, damn it!” Joel shouts, his pace quickening to catch up with hers. That glimmer of hope is now replaced with sheer rage. This little punk. Joel knew he still had no business disrespecting Ellie’s space and wishes, but he’d be damned if he let her run off with his favourite things without so much as a short acknowledgement. He’d raised her better than that. 

She powered through, pushing the doors to The Tipsy Bison open, Joel following closely behind. The bar was quiet for the afternoon, a small group of people were gathered around a table at the back. As Joel got closer, he started to recognize them, Dan from patrol and his wife, a couple of nice folk from the stables, Maria and Tommy, and then Ellie, who was laying all of Joel’s items out on the table. 

“I’m sorry, kiddo. I know this fuckin’ sucks.” Tommy says softly, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder. “I remember when my mom died, I was your age. It fuckin’ sucked.”

Yeah, it did suck. Dad wouldn’t get outta bed and we had to do all the plannin’ — wait, died? Who the hell died?!

“Are you sure you don’t wanna let us handle this?” Maria asks cautiously, knowing the weight that this would place on Ellie’s shoulders. 

“Yeah, no offence, but Joel would hate whatever you guys would plan.” Ellie says with a morbid chuckle, “It’s the least I can do. I feel like I owe it to him, ya know? We were about to turn a new leaf— I was going to invite him to watch a movie with me and Dina that night.” She sighs a tired sigh, her voice sounding like she is crying but no tears come. “Maybe, if I had just asked, Joel wouldn’t have been home. That this wouldn’t have happened. That he wouldn’t be dead.” Ellie’s voice breaks on the last word, her tears finally falling as Maria and Tommy hush her, cradling the young girl in their arms. 

Joel felt his whole body go cold. He was dead? How could he not remember dying? How could he not remember seeing Ellie? What in the fuck is going on. This has to be some sick fucking joke that they’re all playing, some weird April fools prank that his old heart couldn’t fucking handle. God, he was gonna give it to Tommy once they snapped out of it. 

“I’m gonna go check out the spot you guys picked. Make sure it’s not shit.” Ellie mumbles softly into Maria’s shoulder, her brash comments eliciting a chuckle from Tommy. 

“Alright kiddo, you know where to find us.” Tommy quietly replies, pulling out a chair to sit at the table filled with Joel’s belongings. 

Ellie’s footsteps slowed as she approached the quiet cemetery. Joel waited impatiently for the rest of the gang to sneak up on him and spook him, or shove him into an open grave as the cherry on top of their sick joke. 

But there was something about the solemn look on Ellie’s face that scared Joel. Her usually bright eyes were dark and sunken, red lining the amber of her eyes and her voice was raspy and aged. She couldn’t be this good of an actress, her inability to hold in a giggle when reciting her dad jokes was more than enough evidence to prove that she couldn’t act if her life depended on it.

Was this why everyone had been acting so strangely today? Because they were mourning him? But he woke up in his bed, like he did every day…? Was this purgatory? Oh fuck, is this hell??

No— Joel is not dead. He can’t be. He fucking woke up this morning and went to work! The way he does every day. This is a sick joke as payback for Joel mistreating everyone, some twisted version of a Christmas Carol where Joel will come out the other end redeemed and live happily ever after…after apologizing to Tommy and Ellie.

His logic made sense until Ellie stopped in front of a grave; a 6 foot abyss staring right back at her, threatening to suck her in. The dirt was piled beside the ashy grey tombstone that harshly read Joel Miller across the top. 

“Fuck you, Joel.” Ellie solemnly curses under her breath, sitting beside the heavy stone. She slowly leaned onto it, imagining it were Joel’s broad shoulder. “I’m so mad at you for dying.” She adds slowly, picking up a small rock and starting to build a pile beside the tombstone. “You promised me so many things, and now you’re dead. All because of me.” Ellie cries, wiping her snot and running tears on her sleeve, “you didn’t even finish teaching me that stupid song.” 

Joel couldn’t believe the sight before him. That was his name scrawled across that tombstone, matching the one his parents had, similar to the one Sarah deserved to have. He was dead and in a few short hours, his cold, dead, battered body would be buried in that hole in the ground, like the many bodies Joel had buried in his twenty plus years of living in this hellscape. 

He felt so incomplete. He wanted to live! He wanted to live for Sarah.

There was a reason that bullet hadn’t killed him! He was meant to live! He had so much left to teach Ellie. Memories to create with his small family, traditions for him and Tommy to pass along to their kids. Fuck, Tommy— he died and the last words Joel said to his brother were so despicable that he couldn’t even bear to repeat them to himself. He didn’t get to tell a single one of them that he loved them, let alone how much. And selfishly? He died without hearing it back.

Joel knew that it was over, but he was so scared. Was this how Sarah felt when she died? What happens now!? His life was just starting to begin again, and now it’s gone. It’s over.

Picking up the final rock to her small pile, similar to the one she watched Joel build after Tess died, she sighed, the look of fear and grief filling her eyes, a look Joel knew all too well. “I’m going to miss you every day for the rest of my life.” She whispers softly, her voice breaking on almost every word. In a blurred mess of tears, she places the final stone at the top of the pile beside Joel’s resting place, and with one final sob she stands up wiping her hands on her jeans before turning back to the front gates of the cemetery. 

When that bastard Orpheus finally died, he was reunited with his love, Eurydice, who greeted him into the afterlife. But that was only a myth, a tale made up to teach you a lesson. Maybe that’s exactly it. Maybe this was Joel’s lesson— or punishment, for all the cruel misdeeds he committed in order to survive this hellscape they called life. He had hoped many times that if God were real, he would be reunited with Sarah when his time came. That seeing her bright, smiling face once more would ease his grief of his life ending and provide him a comfort he had desired for decades. That last look back to bring him peace in his final moments.

But this isn’t a myth. Sarah wasn’t here, waiting for him to appear, to hold his hand once more and help him cross over in their long awaited reunion.

No one held him in their arms as life slowly drained from his eyes, and his pulse started to slow, whispering sweet nothings into his ear to calm his fear. He was alone. Even in death, no one looked back for Joel Miller.  

tag list: @evolnoomym @mrsmando @mrs-hardy-hunnam-butler-pascal @picketniffler @letsgobarbs @itsokbbygrl @marilovespedro @syd-djarin

(if you don’t want to be included in my tag list, pls let me know!! I just wanted to add names for folks who I thought may be interested in reading this 🤍)

[eclipseberrycake]

The Finer Things (Dandy x Reader)

AN: A request :DDD I'll be honest I've kinda been painting Dandy as the lowkey villain in my MoonBerryCake fics and yk what? He's actually morally gray in my world :) So this is super exciting nfog

☁ A fic? By Roo? That's not MBC? I know. Crazy. I love it though.

☁ So, Dandy is an interesting character because the fandom seems very split on how they view him. For example, one half views him as just this fun toon guy who happens to be the main character and sells you things while the other half thinks he's literally the Devil.

☁...From the bible. /ref

☁ Anyway. If you read my The world behind the Frames or whatever I named it, (No pressure I swear!) Dandy was the first infected in my world.

☁ That's because my personal headcanon is that because he was the first toon made, he was much easier to infect and Patient Zero to a degree. The difference between him and the other twisteds is that he found a way to control. To make the twisted ichor bend to his will.

☁ Hence the tapes. He needs them. He, like Sprout and Teagan, can harness the magical element the tapes wield and redirect them. While the other two use it for healing, he uses it to kind of keep the beast at bay until he deems it necessary to come out.

☁ Which he's sure you've clued into by now.

☁ You're a regular survivalist toon. Not quite remarkable by any means, but you're always the first at his counter and the last to leave it before he goes.

☁ You offer him a smile every time he pops up, even if he knows the things on his table are sub-optimal.

☁ But that's not what strikes Dandy. No.

☁ Without fail, you buy something every single time he's there.

☁ Even if it's something like those silly gumballs, you're handing over the tapes happily even if your prize is quickly discarded. He's sure for a second you know.

☁You know that he's the monster that started this all and are simply trying to appease him. If that's the case, it's working. Even while prepping to pop up through the elevator he finds himself smiling, fluffing the pillows in front of him at the thought of seeing your shiny face.

☁ Or...Alternatively, there's some other reason. Some other reason that has you coming back, over and over again, that Teacup's trinket clipped to your neckline. He wonders if you have it for no other reason than to always have the tapes needed to buy something from him.

☁ He's unsure and can't make heads or tails of it, truly.

☁ So when he pops up, and you're there he waits until the others are grumbling their disappoint to strike up a conversation. He needs to know. What makes you tick. What's your agenda here? Are you hoping to get under his skin? To learn the secrets of this place? Is that it? Or are you simply a naive, terrified toon, all too aware of what happens when he gets...testy? Is this all a method of self-preservation.

☁ You pick up a can of pop, already rooting through your wallet for the needed tapes, even if he can see two other cans of pops on your person, which makes him raise a brow.

☁ "Planning on playing distractor?" He smooths over his facial features with the smooth line, making you almost startle at the question. Your fuzzy cheeks flush as you laugh uncomfortably at the question.

☁ So maybe you are scared of him.

☁ "Oh, no, i could never. I'm not built for that sort of thing, really." You avoid looking at him as you slid the pop into your bag.

☁ "Then why waste the tapes? Who knows what may come up in the future?" He needs to know. Absolutely needs to. It itches under his petals and pulls at his tail, which whips behind him. The question makes you flush further, if possible, you're hands now moving to fiddle in front of you.

☁ "I see how you appreciate the tapes. I'm not really an extractor or distractor nor do I have any remarkable powers." You were able to teleport a few feet in front of you, like that mirror; unlike him however, you didn't need to target a toon, but the distance you went was much, much shorter. He had analyzed this quite extensively. "But seeing your reaction to get the tapes? It's nice to...To help someone at least."

☁ Then you smile. You smile at him like he's worthy of such an action.

☁ It makes him stagger for a second as his time rings up, the elevator pulling him down as he watches you turn to the elevator entrance.

☁ Huh. You did it...for him? Dandicus? What an odd toon you were.

☁ The next time he pops up is an entirely new run. The last one was cut short as the distractor got injured and they had gotten what they needed anyway.

☁ You were on this run as well, making him grin. "If it isn't one of my most loyal customers? How are you?"

☁ "I'm okay. Yourself?" You grab at the bar of chocolate he has laid out, already passing over the tapes before he's holding out a hand.

☁ Before he can even stop himself, he's reaching grabbing an entire box of chocolates and passing it over. "No additional charge." He winks, making your cheeks give that pretty flush once again.

☁ By the time your stammering over both thanks and refusals, he's sinking back beneath the floor and looking at the few tapes in his hand. That box was worth at least 80 tapes and he got maybe twenty.

☁ But in the same vein, it was for you. And it was most likely a one off, so who's to really care anyway.

☁ That's what he tells himself anyway, going about dragging the mystic energy from the tapes to ease the urge to shift.

☁ It was not a one off.

☁ Not by a long shot.

☁ Every time he saw you he just wanted to better you're experience! He couldn't save you the experience entirely, but he could ease the burden on you as much as possible.

☁ When you were injured, sure the others got bandages, but you? A medkit was slipped your way even as you tried refusing it. It could go to one of the healers after all! Or so you would say.

☁ He'd roll his eyes and wave off said healers, Sprout shooting him a glare as he worked on healing one of the distractors (wink wink nudge nudge).

☁ You were far more worthy in Dandy's humble, correct opinion.

☁ When he noticed you were fatigued and exhausted, the others would get cans of pop and maybe a chocolate bar while he had bottles ready for you and boxes of all sorts of candy.

☁ Again, you would try to refuse, exhausting the point that Astro couldn't save your distractor every time but honestly, your distractor should be better prepared at this point anyway.

☁ Bobette wasn't even that scary in his opinon.

☁ He wouldn't charge you anything for them either. Even if it stung along his flesh, whenever asked, he'd shake his head and refuse adamantly.

☁ Only for you to throw them down the chute anyway when he was too far to throw them back. Like the sneaky minx you were.

☁ It made his heart absolutely hum.

☁ It's a shame the others were catching onto this habit of his, truly. Sending him sharp glares every time he pulled a magic item out of wherever he kept them.

☁ The first one to say anything, surprisingly enough, or not based on circumstances, was Vee. She had stomped up to his counter, practically fuming as he gave her a bored look. How dare she interrupt his miniscule time with you?

☁ "Dude, our healers are at their wits end and our distractors on the verge of turning. What the hell?!" She screeched, robotic voice ringing just a bit.

☁ He scoffed at her, even if he kept the smile on his face. "I don't know what you're talking about."

☁ "You can't be serious." Sprout seethed from behind her, his own tapes drained as he cradled the cake roll to his chest. "You've been giving heals to your little partner there this entire time! What about the person who's been protecting them, huh?" His head jutted to where Astro was sitting on the ground, the distractor he's seen practically attached to the hip with any three of them in his lap, heaving and stained black with ichor.

☁ Dandy shrugged. "Better luck next time."

☁ You were quickly stammering an assortment of refusals of being his partner and truly 'the gifts didn't mean anything!', saying you'd be more than happy to share. The thought made Dandy shoot you a sharp look, making you swallow your next words.

☁ "Oh, my dear rose, those toons aren't worthy, I assure you." He waves off their shouts once more, giving you a sacchrine grin. "I do hope to see you soon. Maybe then we can have a talk about you're denseness."

☁ Those were the final words he said as he descending, grinning to himself at the chaos unleashed above.

☁ Oh, you sweet thing. Soon you'd figure it out. Even if your naivety was half your charm.

[hexb0nes]

BEHIND THE LINEN CURTAIN - A VIKTOR X READER ANGST FIC

word count: 6.3k

warnings: hospitalization, trauma, family issues, terminal illness, death, drugs, suicide (sorry, it’s hella angst)

misc. tags: gender neutral reader, occasional use of (y/n), jayce gets bullied a bit, the author actually cried a bit when they finished this fic

summary: viktor receives his prognosis after a fainting spell and finds himself a loss when amother voice speaks up from behind the room divider.

author’s note: this is my first ever full length arcane x reader fic and i’m kinda rusty with my writing, so please lemme know your thoughts on this fic! thanks and enjoy!

A few months, maximum. The Piltovian doctor’s words were straight to the point, I’m sorry, son. We can try our best with aggressive treatment or begin with palliative care. The choice is up to you.

“And there’s no cure?” questioned Jayce, voice heavy with anticipatory grief. Viktor adjusted the cannula under his nose, “Begin aggressive treatment that may or may not work, or begin with palliative care. Either choice has a high percentage of failure.”

“Then which choice will you make?” his friend’s expression morphed into one of pained curiosity. Viktor clasped his hands together and adverted his gaze from Jayce, “I haven’t made a decision yet,” the monitor tracking his vitals let out a chirp, “I’ll be discharged tomorrow. I’ll meet you back at the lab.”

“The lab? Viktor, you should be home- I will meet you back at the lab tomorrow,” he interrupted Jayce, his Zaunite accent punctuating his words. Jayce opened his mouth to retort, but shut it closed when Viktor shot him a look of disapproval. The councilor rose from the visitor’s chair, “I’ll pick you up after your discharge, so we can go to the lab together,” a small smile graced Viktor’s lips at the compromise, “Very well then.”

Jayce pulled Viktor into a side hug and gave the opposing shoulder a reassuring squeeze, “Get some rest, partner.”

“I’ll try my best,” answered Viktor. He watched in silence, as his friend exited the hospital room, and a labored breath escaped his lips the moment the door shut with a soft click! that followed.

“You’re picking death, aren’t you?”

Viktor’s eyes blinked, surprised at the new voice, “Hello?” he called out.

“Behind here.”

Viktor’s eyes darted to the linen curtain and hopped out of his bed, using his IV pole as a makeshift mobility aid and approaching the curtain. With a quick flick, he pushed the curtain aside, revealing something peculiar on the other side.

There you were, propped up in a matching hospital bed with an IV in your hand and oxygen cannula attached to your nose. Your skin was tinted with malaise, the whites of your eyes slightly bloodshot. You wore a similar hospital gown to Viktor, white stripes and oversized with some splatters of brown around the neck and chest area. Dried blood? Viktor wondered.

“You’re picking death, aren’t you?” your voice had a slight rasp to it. Viktor pressed his lips together, “What makes you say so?”

“Well,” you hummed, as you swung their legs over the creaky hospital bed. A pair of worn-out blue socks adored your feet, standard issue ‘grippy’ socks, “Look at your options as of now. You can try to beat death through whatever deranged experimental treatment they’ve concocted. It’ll likely fail,” you gestured vaguely at the Zaunite, “Given that your illness stems from the fumes and toxic waste dumped on the Undercity. There’s no funding or interest in funding research for the treatment of delayed illness from the Grey.”

“How do you…” Viktor stifled back a scoff of surprise, his words trailing off. You laid back down, your limbs and self sprawled about the creamy bed, “Then your other option is palliative care. However, the cost of it outweighs the amount of coin to your name, yes?”

“What makes you think- I saw you get rolled in here,” the pale man puckered his thin lips into a straight line at the interruption. You sat back up and leaned closer to Viktor, “Your clothes. They appeared pretty loved,” the Zaunite ‘tsk’ed at your phrasing, “You barely had any personal belongings, other than that crutch of yours,” you pointed to Viktor’s crutch, the aid propped up beside his bed, “I reckon that you would have to pawn off the crutch to cover your palliative care, it’s pretty sophisticated… or you could get that pretty friend of yours to cover it.”

Viktor froze in place, his blood icy at your words. Why are you speaking to me like this? His hand twitched and the IV pole shook a bit. Who are you to dictate the circumstances of my present and future? You peered up at Viktor, your eyes glowing eerily under the shoddy fluorescent lights, “I don’t mean to offend, just wanted to give some insight on your situation.”

“I don’t need insight,” he huffed, returning to his bed. He plopped down and winced in pain, leaning down slowly to check in his leg. In lieu of his normal braces, delicate wraps decorated his injured limb. He bent his leg carefully, eyebrows raised at the sight of the flexibility. Yet, the pain didn’t go away.

“When I was in your position, I would’ve appreciated some honesty,” you answered. Viktor fell quiet, mulling over their words. The occasional beep from the vitals monitors filled the uncomfortable silence.

“What happened to you then?” Morbid curiosity got the best of Viktor.

“Not even gonna ask for my name?” you chuckled, words laced with bitterness, “You sound just like them.”

“Like who?” inquired Viktor.

“The doctors, the specialists, the nurses,” you, his fellow comrade in suffering, huffed, “All diagnosis this and prognosis that, take this medicine, try this therapy. You’d think after being here for three years, they would know by now who I am.”

Viktor frowned. If anyone could understand the lack of respect from others, the fight to be heard and to be known, it would be Viktor, “Then who are you?”

You smiled, “(Y/N), (Y/N) Albertine.”

・・・・☆・・・・☆ ・・・・

Viktor’s discharge from the hospital was swift, stable enough to return to the safety of his loft. As he packed up any loose belongings in a hospital-provided bag, he turned his attention to you, asleep peacefully in your bed.

“(Y/N) Albertine? As in House Albertine?” Viktor quietly gawked at the reveal of his roommate’s identity.

You let out a light giggle, your bright face a nice contrast to the sterile environment they were trapped in, “Yes. Does that surprise you?”

“House Albertine had made no mention of a child by your name,” answered Viktor.

“I’m more so a bastard,” you explained, fiddling with their oxygen cannula mindlessly, “Came from the Undercity like you, mother was a sex worker from the Entresol Level and my father was the head of House Albertine,” you took a deep breath, “But I bet you’re not yet interested in my life story, huh?”

“Try me,” replied Viktor, taking a seat beside your on your bed. Under normal circumstances, Viktor would never get so cozy with a stranger such as yourself. Yet, the scientist in his brain craved knowledge, even if that knowledge was only specific to you, “What might your life story be?”

Your eyes stare into Viktor’s, admiring the honey amber hue of his, “You’re an interesting one, Viktor. Maybe another time, though.”

“How do you know my name?” The Zaunite raised a thick eyebrow in response.

“You’re one of the Hextexh inventors,” you tossed him a magazine from your bedside, some generic lifestyle magazine, “Open to page 21.”

Viktor flipped through the pages until he found the requested page. The smiling face of Jayce greeted him, accompanied by a few paragraphs. He skimmed through the words, mentions of recent inventions and progress sprinkled about.

His eyes then fell on the second photo towards the bottom, one of him and Jayce outside the Academy. Captioned below, the words ‘Jayce’s esteemed partner and fellow Hextech inventor Viktor is a man of mystery, described as passionate and heavily invested in the progress of Hextech. Jayce reports that his partner hopes to expand Hextech into the Undercity to support the needs of its citizens, a bold statement.’

“No one in Piltover really gives a damn about the Undercity,” you grasped the spine of the magazine, “Unless they’re from it,” you plucked it away from Viktor’s hands, “You’re quite the underdog, Viktor. Rising from the bottom to the top, literally and metaphorically.”

Viktor averted his gaze. You discarded the magazine on the chair by the window, “It’s a breath of fresh air to see other folks from the Undercity do so. Just wish I could’ve been one of them.”

“In a sense, you are, eh?” proposed Viktor. (Y/N) snorted in response, “Physically, yes. Metaphorically, no way. Besides—”

There was a knock on the door, “Mx. Albertine, it’s time for your treatment!” you grimaced at the airy, happy voice and hopped up from their bed, “See you later, Viktor. Hopefully, you can get out of this hellhole soon,” with your IV pole in hand, you made a beeline for the door, opening it and disappearing.

Viktor rested a hand against the bed rail, soft snores emitting from the occupant. He loosened his grip on the rail, I shouldn’t do this. Viktor released his hand and approached the small side table. A pad of paper and a pen laid onto, bearing the symbol of House Talis.

Something Jayce forgot. Viktor picked up the paper and pen. A bold idea entered his mind and with a swift flick, he scribbled down a few words on the paper and ripped it off, placing it down on your side table. With one last glance at the sleeping person, the Zaunite exited the hospital room.

・・・・☆・・・・☆ ・・・・

A series of cracks, whirls, and echos filled the laboratory with lively energy. Jayce hammered a few miscellaneous components together, hoping to produce something of interest. At his desk, Viktor tinkered on the Hex Claw, adjusting its various settings. At the door, their assistant Sky Young poked her head in, “Excuse me, Mr. Talis!” her eyes darted towards a pre-occupied Viktor, “Excuse me, Viktor…” her voice wavered. Jayce paused his hammering and turned his attention to the assistant, “Everything alright, Miss. Young?”

“Yes, yes!” she reassured, “You two, uhm,” she adjusted her grip on her clipboard, “You two have a visitor.”

“Oh, is it Mel-” Jayce cut himself short, “Is it Councilor Medara?”

“No,” answered Sky.

“Oh,” the inventor cleared his throat, “Is it anyone we know of?”

“They- They say that they were invited by Viktor,” Viktor perked up at the mention of his name, setting his soldering tools down, “By me?” he asked.

“I mean, you’re the one who left me the note,” a familiar voice chimed in. You poked your head from behind Sky, waving the note Viktor left days ago in your hands. Viktor picked up his crutch from the side of his workstation and walked up to the pair, firm ‘thumps’ with each contact the mobility aid made against the linoleum floor, “You came,” he answered, masking his disbelief with a well-timed cough.

“You invited me,” you retorted, “I came as soon as I was discharged.”

“Viktor?” Jayce now joined the huddle, “Who’s this?” Sky stepped back and mumbled something about paperwork, walking off and disappearing around the corridor. You tilted your chin up at Jayce—everyone had to look up at Jayce—and dipped into a mocking bow, “Oh, my. It seems that I’m in the presence of the Man of Progress himself! What an honor!”

Viktor snorted, a genuine pig-like snort of amusement. Jayce’s eyes widened in surprise, ping-ponging his attention between his lab partner and the mysterious guest. He cleared his throat, curious gaze fixated on the person closest to the lab’s entrance, “I take it that you’re not a fan of me.”

“Oh, on the contrary,” you squeezed past Jayce and into the lab, despite his protests, “You’re all I read about in the magazines,” you grabbed an abandoned chair and spun it around aimlessly, “I swear that all they provide as entertainment at that damn hellhole.”

“It’s nice to see that you’ve been discharged, Mx. Albertine,” the shorter man finally spoke up. Your eyes locked on Viktor and you shook your head disapprovingly, “What’s with the formalities, Viktor? We’re on a first name basis, aren’t we?”

“Albertine?” the gears in the taller man’s head turned and turned until they clicked together with a realization, “As in House Albertine?”

“That’s the one,” your tone suddenly shifted, less playful and more robotic, “I managed to dodge the chauffeur and butler to get here,” you traced your fingers against the aged leather of the spinning stool, “Technically, I shouldn’t be here, Father doesn’t like it when I’m out and about unsupervised, but!” You plopped down on the stool and flashed the inventors a cheeky grin, “Does it look like I give a rat’s ass about what they think?”

“Not at all,” answered Viktor, grasping the end of another chair and taking a seat, “I assume you’re here to resume our discussion, yes?” Jayce peered over at his partner, “Discussion?”

“Yes, dear Golden Boy, our discussion,” a soft coo escaped your lips, “On the nuances of life, death, and the universe.”

Jayce’s shoulders drooped like a wilted flower, the shine in his eyes familiar to that of a kicked puppy. Your expression betrayed your guilt and quickly retracted your previous statement, “Er, sorry. Don’t mind my irritability, it’s the chemo.”

“Chemo?” gawked Jayce, face full of concern. You wheeled yourself over to Viktor and leaned against his side, “You didn’t tell him?”

Viktor pushed himself away from the sudden invasion of personal space, “It wasn’t my place to say so.”

You flashed the Zaunite another smile; not a cocky or teasing smile, but rather one of genuine gratitude. Viktor’s cheeks grew flushed at the sight and he spun his own chair around, wheeling back over to his work station. Tinkering with his materials, the inventor kept an open ear to Jayce’s and yours ongoing conversation.

“I got cancer,” you explained, fidgeting with the buttons on your shirt, “Lung cancer, stage three. It’s shitty, but the doctors say that my odds are pretty good, thanks to the strict treatment routine.”

“I’m sorry,” replied Jayce, rubbing the nape of his neck. Your waved his apology off with a flick of your needle-pricked hand, “Don’t. Seriously, don’t,” you laughed, a fake one that Viktor could recognize but not Jayce, “Everyone does that. It gets annoying after the-” you began to count your fingers, “-I don’t know, twenty-seventh time?”

“That’s fair,” answered Jayce. He strolled up to Viktor’s workstation and whispered into his partner’s ear, “Why don’t you give your-” he paused “-our guest, your full attention, V?”

“I can multitask,” the Zaunite reached for his soldering kit, only to have his hand intercepted by Jayce, “Why don’t you give your full attention to our guest, Viktor?” The force in his lab partner’s voice was indicative enough. Viktor grabbed his crutch once more, “Mx. Albertine,” he approached his acquaintance, leaning on his crutch for support, “Care to join me on a walk?”

“Sure!” you answered, hopping off the stool, “I could use some fresh air,” you picked up your bag and threw it over your shoulder, “Nice to meet you in person, Mr. Man of Progress.”

“Please just call me Jayce,” his words were less of a friendly offer and more of a plea. You snapped finger guns at the inventor, “Sure thing, Jayce-y Jayce!”

“That’s not-” his words were cut off by squeaky sneakers against the floor, as you made a sudden retreat from the lab, “C’mon, Viktor!” you shouted, your voice growing softer with the growing distance, “I’ll race yah!”

Jayce ran a hand through his hair and sighed, “They have a lot of energy, huh?”

“It appears so,” chimed Viktor in agreement. He grabbed his satchel off the lab’s bag rack and proceeded to the door, “I’ll be back in an hour or two. If not, presume that I was crushed to death by the weight of Mx. Albertine’s infectious positivity,” he left the lab without another one. With a soft laugh, Jayce returned to his workstation and picked up a wrench, smiling to himself.

It’s nice to see that Viktor still has his humor intact.

・・・・☆・・・・☆ ・・・・

The botanical gardens outside the Academy District were in full bloom for spring, an assortment of dazzling pinks and purples standing out among the greenery. You and Viktor find a secluded spot away from the other attendees, a little stone bench. First to sit, you patted the spot next to you and Viktor took it, grateful to rest his aching muscles. Last week, I was able to do this walk without taking a break this earlier. Viktor squeezed the lower rung of his crutch a tight squeeze, Gods be damned for this forsaken vessel of flesh and bone.

“Tired, too?” Viktor perked up at the sound of your voice. You were panting a bit—not as much as Viktor was trying to hide—and a thin layer of sweat on your forehead glistened under the sunlight, “I sure am,” you pulled something out of your bag, an embroidered handkerchief with your initials and the outline of a fox, the symbol of House Albertine. You wiped away your sweat and held out the handkerchief to Viktor, “Need this?”

“No, no thank you,” he grimaced at the thought of exchanging bodily fluids with such a new face in his life. You shrugged your shoulders and pocketed the handkerchief. A few birds fled over your heads, a flock of yellow finches, and you reached your hand to them. One of the finches landed on your hand and gave you a chirp or two before flying off to rejoin its group.

“I take it you like birds?” asked Viktor. He was never a fan of small talk, but since the other option was silence, he chose the latter. You nodded, “I guess you can say so,” you stretched your arms out, skin peeking out of your lilac button down. His gaze fell on a circular scar closest to your lower rib cage, but made no comment of it. You finished your stretch and hummed softly, “I have a fondness for nature. We take it for granted.”

Viktor rested his chin under the top rung of his crutch, “I’m inclined to agree with you,” a few more birds flew by, their wings flapping against the spring breeze. You held out your hand again, but no birds landed this time, a frown forming on your lips. Viktor held back a chuckle, “What a shame.”

“What a shame,” you repeated back with a heavy sigh, “You wanna know what a true shame is, though?” Viktor adjusted his grip on his crutch, “What might that be, Mx. Albertine?”

“Enough with the Albertine talk,” you hissed, annoyance flashing across your face. Viktor gave a sharp nod, “Very well. (Y/N), it is.”

Your expression softened, “That’s better,” you cracked your knuckles mindlessly, as you continued to speak, “As I was saying, a true shame is this,” you pointed up at the tree lines, various birds perched upon the branches, “That you and I weren’t born birds.”

Viktor eyed the birds and then you, “Care to elaborate as to why?” the gears in his mind clicked and grinded against one another, another wrinkle added to his ever thought-consuming brain.

“If we were birds, we could fly away from here,” you pushed yourself off the bench, only to throw yourself on the ground and lay in the freshly cut grass behind the two of you. Viktor swung his lanky legs over the bench to face you, as you went into detail about the wonders and privileges that would entail being a bird instead of a man. Your voice highlighted your passion, your assertiveness, and your imagination; for a moment, Viktor could picture himself being a bird with you. Perhaps a raven or a crow.

“Don’t you wish you could just,” you reached into your bag and rummaged about, “Fly far, far away from here?” In your hand, there was an ornate tin. You sat back up from the grass and rested your back against the stone bench. Flicking the tin open, you pulled out something thin and small from it, a cigarette. You placed it between your lips, but there was no lighter in sight.

“I doubt your doctor recommends that you smoke, eh?” The scientist gestured at the cigarette. You pulled out from your lips, a bit of saliva connecting you to the cigarette, “That’s the thing, Viktor. I never light them”

“How come?” he questioned, examining the cigarette tin. Three—no, four—other cigarettes laid inside, fresh and untouched.

“Because that’s the one thing I have control over with this fucking disease.”

Your words rang through the inventor’s ears like a mallet hitting a gong. They reverberated through his head, as he took in your answer fully. Because that’s the one thing I have control over with this fucking disease.

Viktor moved himself from the bench onto the ground next to you, “May I?” he asked, pointing a long, bony finger at the cigarette tin.

“Be my guest,” you held up the tin towards Viktor. Slowly, his hand reached into the tin and picked up a cigarette, thin and small like him. You placed your own cigarette back between your lips and Viktor joined in, his tongue making contact with the tipping paper. There, the two of you sat together, the world around you filled with merry birds and people passing by.

Maybe, one day, in another lifetime, we both can be birds.

・・・・☆・・・・☆ ・・・・

Over the months, you became a frequent visitor to Jayce and Viktor’s lab, much to the annoyance of Jayce and the indifference of Viktor. Occasionally, you would bring the two of them trinkets or snacks, Jayce preferring the snacks and Viktor preferring the trinkets. A few of them lined the wall of Viktor’s workstation, one of which being a silver Noxian watch. You joked when you gifted him it, Since both of us have plenty of time, a small inside joke you two shared.

It was around lunchtime when Sky appeared at the door, but something was off. Behind her glasses, her eyes reflected urgency and concern, “Mr. Talis, Viktor!” she squeaked in a panic.

“What’s wrong, Miss. Young?” confusion laced Jayce’s question. Instead of responding, Sky’s eyes darted over to Viktor and with a shaky voice, she announced the worst possible news.

“Mx. Albertine’s in the hospital, they’ve taken a turn for the worse.”

・・・・☆・・・・☆ ・・・・

Never in Viktor’s life had he left the lab with such quickness. The cursed, inaccessible streets of Piltover didn’t dare interfere with his mission, the quiet man more than willing to knock down a pedestrian or two to get to you as soon as he could. Of course, Jayce followed behind and his status as the Hextech inventor surely didn’t help their goal of getting to the hospital on time. Nonetheless, the pair succeeded, as Viktor and Jayce speed-walked up to the receptionist’s desk.

“We’re here for a (Y/N) Albertine,” Viktor was straight to the point, not wanting to waste a millisecond. The receptionist, an older woman with pure boredom on her face, flipped through her clipboard lazily, “Are you family? If not, you can’t go up there.”

Anger—no, rage—boiled in Viktor’s blood, his hold on his crutch tightening to the point where Jayce feared it would snap in two. Yet, not wanting to make a scene, the taller of the pair intercepted the interaction and flashed the receptionist one of his famous Golden Boy smiles, “We’re sorry to bother you, ma’am, but we’re looking for Mx. Albertine on the basis of Council business. Is there any way you can make an exception?”

The receptionist tilted her head up at Jayce and Viktor swore that he saw her jaw drop to the floor, “Co- Councilor Talis, but of course! They’re in Room 19 on the third floor.”

“Thank you-” Viktor ran off before Jayce could properly thank the receptionist. The nearest elevator dinged open with medical staff and patients alike leaving it, Viktor used his wiry frame to his advantage and squeezed inside. Jayce wasn’t so lucky, as the elevators began to close upon his arrival, “I’ll meet you up there!” He shouted, the elevator doors shutting with a firm click.

Viktor jabbed a finger against the ‘3’ button and paced about the elevator, as it rose from the first floor, then to the second, and then—

The elevator dinged and opened its doors to the third floor. Viktor nearly jumped out of the elevator and rushed down the hall with the rooms labeled ‘10-19’. His legs and back screamed with each step he took, pleading with Viktor to stop and rest. Yet, there was no stopping now, not with your life on the line.

The gold lettering of ‘Room 19’ greeted Viktor when he made it to the end of the impossibly long hallway. The door was slightly ajar and the Zaunite could make out three people standing near a hospital bed. They spoke in hushed voices, but with a keen ear, Viktor managed to hear some words. He made out the words and statements of Mother and Father, (Y/N) will recover, and I’m scared. Not wanting to eavesdrop any longer, Viktor knocked on the door, “Is Mx. Albertine-” he paused, remembering your dislike towards your family name, “Is (Y/N) here?”

“Viktor?” a weak voice called out to him. At the mention of his name, Viktor entered the hospital room, much to the protest of one of the visitors inside, a young but refine man bearing the orange and brown hues of House Albertine “Excuse me, you can’t just waltz in- Eduard, it’s fine,” you interrupted, “This is the friend I told you about,” the way you spoke wasn’t right; there was no cheer or no infectious laughter in tangent with the usual rasp, only strain and hoarseness, “Can I have a moment alone with Viktor?”

The man, Eduard, gave Viktor an once-over, the typical first action a Piltovian of high society would take when they met him, “Very well,” he conceded, “Come, Daphne, Emmeline. Let’s see what the café downstairs has.”

“Very well,” the woman in the room, albeit younger than both Viktor and Eduard, answered. Upon her lap, a small girl, no older than six or seven years old, sat playing with a stuffed fox, its dirty fabric a sign of how loved it was. The woman wrapped her arms around the girl’s torso and lifted her up, placing her carefully on the ground, “Let’s get going, Emmy.”

“But I wanna stay with (Y/N)!” the girl with the stuffed fox—Emmy, or Emmeline—protested, “I don’t wanna go to some dumb café!”

“But, Emmeline,” hummed Eduard, squatting down to the little girl’s level, “There might be apple turnovers.”

Emmeline’s eyes grew to the size of dinner saucers at the mention of apple turnovers, “What?! Okay, okay, let’s go!” she grabbed the hand of the woman beside her, most likely the owner of the final name, Daphne, “(Y/N), (Y/N)! Whatcha want from the café?”

“Emmy, remember your language- A chocolate croissant,” you informed Emmy, waving Eduard’s critique with a small smile, “Make sure you find me a chocolate croissant, okay, little fox? Despite the difficulty, you spoke with such sweetness towards Emmy. She gave you a firm salute, determination sparkling in her eyes, “On it!” she exclaimed, “Let’s go, let’s go!” Emmy dragged Daphne out of the hospital room and out the hallway.

Eduard, however, lingered behind. While he remained dignified as he could, Viktor noticed the tears that pricked behind the corner of Eduard’s eyes, “I promise we’ll be quick,” he leaned forward and placed his forehead against yours, a gesture of love and affection in Zaun, “I promise.”

“I’ll see you soon, I promise,” you reassured the older man. With one final nod, Eduard pulled away from you and made his way to the door. Instead of ignoring Viktor, Eduard placed a hand on his shoulder, an action that sent a shudder down Viktor’s makeshift and wired together spine, whispered to the inventor, “Keep them safe,” and left the hospital room without another word.

You waited until the door was closed behind you to drop that small smile of yours, an air of heavy sickness washing over your face. Viktor approached you and, with his free hand, pulled the lone visitor’s chair up to the side of your bed, “Hello,” his voice wavered with his greeting, “How are you feeling?”

“Like horse shit,” you fired a straight answer, no playfulness or giggles. Viktor analyzed your form, noting the wires that connected you to the various monitors and machines. There was an emptiness to your eyes, dim and dull like nothing he had ever seen before. You were dying before his very eyes.

“What did the doctors say?” he inquired.

“My odds are a coin toss,” you shifted your weight on the bed, the wires moving in tangent with your body. Viktor frowned, a deep frown amplified by his sharp features, “Percentage wise?”

You stared down at your hands and traced your thumb against your IV.

“Percentage wise?” repeated Viktor.

You didn’t answer, painfully silent.

“(Y/N),” in a bold move, Viktor snatched your hand and intertwined it with his own, cold and nimble, “Give me the percentage.”

“Twenty five,” you confessed

“Twenty five percent for what?” Viktor prodded you for more information.

“That I live.”

A tense silence filled the room. Just like before, Viktor remembered the night the two of you met. You’re picking death, aren’t you? Those were the first words you ever said to him.

“I signed a DNR.”

“What?” his hold on your hands tightened, “What do you mean you signed a DNR?”

“It’s time for me to go, Vik,” your voice, the nickname, filled Viktor’s chest with a strange warmth and softness, “No more chemo, no more hospital stays, no more confinement. I’m making my choice.”

“There has to be a way,” he croaked, his voice cracking enough to expose his fear and concern. You shook your head, “I’m making my choice,” you placed your unoccupied hand against Viktor’s cheek. To his surprise, Viktor pressed his cheek into your comforting hand, closing his eyes while you brushed your thumb against his own sickly skin.

“I have one request,” Viktor opened his eyes at the sound of your rasp, “What might that be?” he asked.

“I wanna go back to the gardens.”

・・・・☆・・・・☆ ・・・・

It was another sunny day at the botanical gardens, just like the first Viktor and you visited them. Fresh zinnia and marigolds lined the pathway towards the water fountain, swaying to the beat of the summer breeze. Just like before.

The two of you found the bench you always used, ventures to the gardens were monthly as per your request to get Viktor some ‘damn sunshine’, as you put it. No longer were you the energetic ray of positivity like before, but a weary soul on death’s door. The protests from the doctors and nurses about your sudden discharge left Viktor in a frenzy. Was this truly the right decision? Viktor pondered, placing his crutch beside him, Wouldn’t it be safer to return to the hospital?

“Thank you for taking me, Viktor.” Ah, yes, it was the right decision.

“Of course,” he answered, shifting his position on the bench, “I’m a man of my word.”

“Go to know,” you mustered a smile, tired eyes focused on Viktor’s face, “Can I ask you something important?”

“Yes, of course,” the Zaunite inventor responded.

“Can I kiss you?”

Taken aback by your request, Viktor’s cheeks turned a warm shade of pink before deepening into a light scarlet shade, “Excuse me?”

“Kiss me,” you asserted. You pulled yourself closer to Viktor, your face so very close to his, “Wouldn’t you honor my dying request? Pretty please?” Viktor’s heart skipped a beat, then another; he feared that he might collapse on the spot. Viktor, one of the two founders of Hextech, Viktor, the man who rose from the bottom slumps of Zaun to the high towers of Piltover, rendered a blushing mess by your simple words.

How can I refuse? You had a claw around his heart, tender and ready to crush it into a pulp; the visits to the lab brought him subtle joy that only grew as time went on, your thoughtfulness and confident nature drew him in like a Venus flytrap.

“Okay,” the inventor touched his forehead against yours, “I shall give you two,” his touch against your forehead was still, prolonged. He never wanted to let go, “One for Zaun,” Viktor pulled back from your face, “And one for Piltover,” he closed the space between you two with a kiss, slightly awkward and showcasing his inexperience, but a sweet and loving kiss, nonetheless.

Your hands found their way into his hair, grasping at his chocolate locks for support. Viktor’s hands snaked around your waist and he held as tight as he could. He couldn’t let go, he never wanted to let go. Your bodies, connected together like matching puzzle pieces, were one; a part of Viktor’s heart was home to you and you alone.

“Thank you,” you whispered once the kiss finished, “I enjoyed that a lot.

“As did I,” answered Viktor.

Your hands migrated down to his hands, clasping them with yours. Your eyes fluttered with exhaustion, “I’m glad that I met you, Vik.”

A smile formed on the inventor’s lips, a smile that he only reserved for scientific breakthroughs and other victories or joys. You were a breakthrough, you were a joy. You smiled back at him, the same smile you had when you two first met, “I love you.”

“I-” his throat tightened at the proclamation. His face turned a deeper shade of red and his stomach constricted with a rush of emotions. Fear? Worry? Joy? Surprise? All the emotions associated around love, Viktor supposed. With shaky hands, not common for the inventor’s typical steadiness, he whispered back to you, “I love you, too.”

“Good,” you chuckled. Just like before, “I’ll see you again soon, right?”

“I’ll visit you every chance I get,” replied Viktor, squeezing your hands gently. A promise, a vow. Yet, you only giggled, “Oh, my sweet Viktor,” you squeezed his hands back, “I only have a few moments.”

“What?” his eyes widened. In the pocket of your jacket–the one provided by Jayce after Viktor informed him of you two’s escape–you pulled out a small pill bottle. The label, in its tiny print, read the following: Pentobarbital.

“No,” he could barely speak, “No, no, no. Where did you get that pill bottle?”

“An unlicensed pharmacy on the Entresol Level,” you answered. Viktor snatched the bottle from your hands and opened it up. Empty. “I took them after we left the hospital,” you added.

“Why?” croaked Viktor, gripping the pill bottle, “Why would you do that?”

“I wanted to go out my own way,” you stood up from the bench, “Not in somewhere sterile and proper. I want to die among the wonders of nature,” your words touched Viktor’s soul. To die at one’s hand, some considered it a sin, but Viktor knew, he knew this was the right choice for you, “Follow me,” you pulled him out of his thoughts with a simple task.

Despite his sadness, despite his fear, despite the tears threatening to flow down his hollow cheeks, Viktor did as you commanded. He followed you towards a large oak, a few feet away from the main area of the garden and surrounded by sunflowers. You propped your body against the lower half of the tree and Viktor joined you, situating himself into an as-comfortable-as-possible spot.

You laid your head against his bony shoulder, the rest of your body pressed against his side, “My mother would take me here when she had enough money to buy some new things up top. It was my favorite part of my childhood, my favorite memories of her.”

Viktor listened intently, as you reminisced about your life. The nights you spent in your humble home with your mother, Connie, were filled with delight. Your mother fought tooth and nail to ensure a good life for you, a better life than selling one’s body to lustful and predatory men. She was shot dead by a client from Piltover when she demanded compensation for his night with her.

An older Yordle woman by the name of Babette took you under her wing, cared for you, until the enforcers hired by your stepmother found you and ripped you away from the familiar warmth of the brothel to the icy landscape and mind games orchestrated by the highest of Piltovian Houses. You were nothing more of a bastard to your birth father and stepmother, but you found family and strength in your half-siblings.

You were expected to fail, nothing more than a mistake made by the great Godfrey Albertine. Yet, you proved them wrong with each trial, trap, and obstacle in your way. You had been studying at the Academy before your diagnosis, Viktor’s mind jumped back to the times he saw your name on the exam score announcements. You were strong, you were capable, you were passionate, and you were kind. To Viktor, you emitted the closest thing to perfection.

“I feel it taking effect,” you muttered. Viktor tried to hold back tears, but failed, as hot watery blobs rolled down his cheeks. You snuggled up closer to your fellow Zaunite, your body temperature growing cooler and cooler, “I’m glad you listened to me.”

Viktor wrapped an arm around your side and held you tight, “It would be hypocritical of me not to. We are but two sides of the same coin, aren’t we?”

You let out a boisterous laugh, expending whatever leftover energy you had for the day, “We are.”

Some birds flew by and perched upon the trees in front of you. A finch and raven stood side by side, an odd combination of birds. You reached your hand out to the birds. Just like the first time, “I can’t wait to be a bird, Vik.”

“I hope you can be one in your next life, ptáček, I truly hope so,” mumbled Viktor in your ear.

Slowly, you lowered your hand and closed your eyes, a peaceful smile on your lips. Viktor stared at your face, your body, for any sign of movement. He placed his ear against your chest, looking for your heartbeat. It thumped and thumped until… nothing.

You were gone.

Viktor let out a heavy sob and cradled your body in his arms, stroking your hair very so tenderly. The raven and the finch watched the exchange, the finch chirping at the raven as if they were conversing. The pair of birds then flew off into the distance, soaring through the air, as free as could be.

“Be free, ptáček, be free.”

[film-in-my-soul]

Promises to Keep | 275 | schweet_heart / @schweetheart

Summary: Merlin is about to leave on a business trip, but there's one last thing he has to do before he goes.

Duration | 500 | schweet_heart / @schweetheart

Summary: Everything ached, especially his head where it had collided with a concrete wall, but he was alive and Agravaine was dead, and the need to make sure Merlin was okay was all that had been keeping him going these past three months.

odds are | 515 | schweet_heart / @schweetheart

Summary: He’s crazy. It’s half past two in the morning and Merlin has officially lost whatever's left of his goddamn mind, but Arthur’s mouth has always been his weakness, hasn’t it, especially when downturned, and Arthur had said, “I wish,” the way that only Arthur could—“I wish I could just find one fucking person who loved me”—and Merlin had thought, I’m right here. Had said, “I’m right here,” maybe, mumbling it into the top of his bottle, the fourth of the evening, and then regretted every decision he had ever made which had led him to this point.

A Promise | 662 | riventhorn

Summary: “I’m here now,” he said, going to stand by Merlin and wrapping his hands around Merlin’s trembling fingers. “I’m here now, Merlin.”

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and you will be my battlecry | 1,000 | schweet_heart / @schweetheart

Summary: "I didn't do it for you." “Of course not,” Merlin agreed mildly. “You just happened to challenge him to a duel a few seconds after he hit me. Obviously a total coincidence.”

and you've had your fill of sinking | 1,000 | schweet_heart / @schweetheart

Summary: To the best of Merlin's knowledge, King Uther had never struck his son, but then, he had never needed to — Arthur had always taken his father's disappointment as grounds for thorough self-flagellation, and he did a far better job of excoriating himself than the king could ever do.

As I Lay Dying | 1,035 | Polomonkey / @thepolomonkey

Summary: He was not afraid to die in some ways. It could not hurt any more than what had already been done to him here. But he was afraid to leave life behind. Leave the kingdom that he had built, the subjects that he dearly loved. Leave Gwen and Morgana and Leon and Gaius. Leave Merlin.

anywhere i would have followed you | 1,073 | helloearthlings

Summary: “Just say something,” he whispered, voice breaking as he gazed over the entirely peaceful shore. “Say something. Say anything.”

and they were workmates (omg they were workmates) | 1,600 | schweet_heart / @schweetheart

Summary: Merlin and Arthur strike up an awkward Zoom flirtationship during the pandemic. It makes going back to the office interesting, to say the least.

Truth or Dare | 1,800 | lady_ragnell / @theladyragnell

Summary: It is a truth universally acknowledged that any party with enough drinking eventually devolves into Truth or Dare. Or. Something like that.

Sanctuary | 2,062 | BeautifulFiction / @the-pen-pot

Summary: 'Did you think I wouldn't notice?' Arthur looked over his shoulder, a wry smile caught on his lips. 'All the things you've done for me, right from the start?' Merlin sees what no one else does: that Arthur Pendragon doesn't need a good servant. He needs a friend who sees not the crown and the power, but the man beneath it all. A man he loves, and who might just love him in turn.

Burn and Shine | 2,485 | lady_ragnell / @theladyragnell

Summary: Arthur pretends to be Merlin's boyfriend for a night, and they both learn far more than they bargained for.

Lughnasadh | 2,623 | BeautifulFiction / @the-pen-pot

Summary: 'Magic changes.' The words sounded a little slurred on his tongue. Merlin remembered the taste of apples. 'Like the seasons, it changes. So do I.' When Arthur helps Merlin, intoxicated by his changing magic, he realises the truth neither of them have ever dared to put into words.

Wrong Number | 2,771 | schweet_heart / @schweetheart

Summary: "I promise I will not assume that one successful coffee date means we’re soulmates meant to be together forever.” In which Morgana gets a few things wrong, but Merlin and Arthur get something right. Mostly.

Map Our Escape | 3,017 | lady_ragnell / @theladyragnell

Summary: Arthur feels tied down and unhappy with his life, so he throws a dart at a map--and ends up in Ealdor.

Damsel in a Phone Booth | 3,053 | Blackwidina

Summary: I was on Tumbler and found this AU prompt: “it’s the middle of the night and i’m walking home alone in the dark and there’s this guy following me and he’s starting to gain on me and i found this phone booth with a lock on the door and i tried to call my best friend but my hands were shaking so badly i accidentally dialed the wrong number and i don’t even know you but help me” au

You're My Passport Home (a Keep the Light On Remix) | 3,442 | ingberry / @ingberry

Summary: Merlin Emrys: love of his life, probably.

The Elephant Jumper | 3,701 | helloearthlings

Summary: "My mum and I had a tradition that whenever one of us was upset or had a bad day, we’d put on the Elephant Jumper and the other had to be nice to them all day and get them whatever they wanted. We would have to ask if we wanted to talk. If the answer was yes, we’d talk. If the answer was no, we’d have to leave them alone for the rest of the night. It was how we bonded. One of the best parts of my childhood.” “So if I put the jumper on,” Arthur said hesitantly after a moment, a smile growing on his face, “you’d have to be nice to me?”

Don't Go Breaking My Heart | 3,800 | lady_ragnell / @theladyragnell

Summary: Arthur sucks at relationships and Merlin is sick of it.

the course of true love (never did run smooth) | 4,054 | schweet_heart / @schweetheart

Summary: Three times Merlin found and foiled a love charm, and one time he didn't need to.

Something Dumb to Do | 4,595 | lady_ragnell / @theladyragnell

Summary: The cardinal rule of being a wedding planner is not falling in love with the bride or groom. Arthur's never had trouble with that rule.

Limerence | 5,352 | BeautifulFiction / @the-pen-pot

Summary: 'The potion in question was, as far as I can tell, of suitable strength to do its job. Merlin's power would have offered him no defence. There is, of course, one universal antidote against any magics that meddle in matters of the heart...' 'Which is?' Arthur demanded, raising his eyebrows. Gaius sighed, casting a tired, apologetic look in Merlin's direction. 'If the target of a love spell is already truly, deeply devoted to someone – if they love another without question or pause – then no spell can take hold.' 'You're saying that it didn't work because Merlin already loves someone?' The words felt thin between his lips, straining to get past the sudden, leaden feeling in his chest. It felt like someone had plunged their hand inside him and caught his heart in the cage of their fist, and Arthur was left breathless as he tried to speak around the awful sensation.

I Need An Adultier Adult to Successfully Adult | 5,406 | Pendragons Dragonlord (PseudoAuthor) / @pseudoauthor1

Summary: The second time he encountered the chemistry teacher AKA Arthur Pendragon, AKA Pratface, AKA Sexy Dude in a Lab Coat, it was because his students were yelling right outside of his class room. Also he's been avoiding Arthur ever since he came back six weeks into term, because well…reasons.

The One Where Arthur Sells Tongue Cuz Being Rich is Hard Life | 5,420 | derryere

Summary: Arthur sells make-out lessons at a boarding school.

Sort of a Tourniquet | 6,231 | Thursday_Next

Summary: Arthur gives Merlin a plastic ring as a joke. But what nobody knows is how much Merlin really likes wearing it. Modern AU with lots of pining.

The Wild Hunt | 6,471 | BeautifulFiction / @the-pen-pot

Summary: 'The Wild Hunt.' 'What?' 'The Wild Hunt are coming.' His voice sounded strange, both Merlin's and not, as if something far older spoke through his lips. The words carried, seeming to drift through the mist, and Arthur saw Gwaine get to his feet, hurrying around the bed-rolls to rouse everyone. 'That's a myth,' Arthur said, trying to ignore the way his heart tripped into a faster beat and his fingers felt fat with panic. 'A story to scare people from wandering too far into the woods at night.' Slowly, Merlin shook his head, seeming to blink back to himself as he struggled free of his bed-roll. 'No, it's not, and tonight, they ride.'

The Boy Next Door | 6,718 | lady_ragnell / @theladyragnell

Summary: In which there is pining, Merlin bakes, Arthur borrows batteries he doesn't actually need, and did I mention the pining?

Made of Dreams and Bones | 7,476 | lady_ragnell / @theladyragnell

Summary: Arthur would have starved that first winter, if it weren’t for Hunith and her son.

Uncharted | 7,836 | BeautifulFiction / @the-pen-pot

Summary: Uther believed in power, gold and riches. Arthur believed in his people, his kingdom, and the idea that good men could make life better for everyone, not just the individual who sat upon the throne. Merlin shows Arthur that magic can save his kingdom in many ways, and Arthur comes to see how there are few in the world who love Camelot and its people as much as he does, except perhaps for the man at his side. Yet will either of them speak of the love that blooms between them, or will they hold their silence?

here is a brighter garden | 9,728 | ingberry / @ingberry

Summary: Arthur's favourite street in his new neighbourhood had these lovely little gardens. Lush, impossibly green and touched by magic. Wanting some of their magic for himself also led Arthur to the man who crafted them.

Isn't It Lovely How Artists Can Capture Us? | 10,762 | lady_ragnell / @theladyragnell

Summary: Arthur buys a painting at Gaius's antique shop, only to find that the subject is a wizard who's been trapped for over a century.

The Hardest Way Possible | 12,491 | lady_ragnell / @theladyragnell

Summary: Merlin's addicted to Craigslist, Arthur's looking for love in all the wrong places, and with a little help from their friends, they manage to get it together.

License to Thrill | 14,174 | lady_ragnell / @theladyragnell

Summary: Merlin's employees bet him the recipe for the most addictive cocoa in the world that he can't find out what the hot blond who comes into his chocolate shop does for a living within the month. He ends up getting far more than he bargained for.

The Gate of Memory | 14,494 | Destina

Summary: Merlin forgets to remember, until the time comes to remember once again.

Deliquesce | 14,612 | BeautifulFiction / @the-pen-pot

Summary: The creatures stepped forward, long, narrow muzzles agape. The sun did not deter them, merely setting their subtle scales agleam. Thick saliva dripped from their jaws, smattering on the ground, yet they did not lunge forward to strike. Instead, they waited, their gaze unblinking as they stared. At first, Arthur thought they watched the knights, but when he shifted his stance, their eyes did not follow him, Instead, it was someone behind him who held them captivated. Merlin.

As Long As We Have We | 17,517 | lady_ragnell / @theladyragnell

Summary: Arthur thinks he's going to have to spend Christmas alone--at least until he somehow acquires a whole house full of strays.

But It's a Good Refrain | 23,090 | lady_ragnell / @theladyragnell

Summary: Arthur doesn't care much about the popular radio program Dragon's Lonely Hearts until his ex-girlfriend calls in to slag him off and get advice. When he calls in and has an on-air argument with the host, it starts off more than he expected, including meddling friends, overinvolved fans, and maybe love.

Would You Be Mine, Could You Be Mine | 23,456 | lady_ragnell / @theladyragnell

Summary: Merlin does not want to invite the Prime Minister's son onto his show, even if he is an environmental scientist. Arthur does not want to admit that he has a crush on the star of Merlin's Castle, the most popular children's show in the nation. In which Merlin is Mr. Rogers, there is a bouquet of finger puppets, Freya and Gwaine hooked up years ago and neither of them wants to talk about it, and eventually everything turns out okay.

The Path Of A Pendragon | 32,828 | BeautifulFiction / @the-pen-pot

Summary: 'Magic will love you,' she whispered, pressing both palms to where Arthur lay curled inside her, almost ready, but not quite. 'With all its heart and of its own free mind, magic will love you, and you will love it in turn.' When Arthur finds out about Merlin's magic on a hunting trip gone wrong, it feels as if his world has been turned upside down. Yet a mother's love is a powerful thing, and her blessing even more so. Will Ygraine's little gift be enough to help him see that he truly cannot hate half of that which makes him whole?

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[whatprince]

How do you choose your shapes and colors, and how do you get cool ideas? Ive been having a hard time only being able to draw straightforward and simple stuff, i dont know how to get cool ideas anymore

umm i dunno! dont really know what you mean by cool either. i dont feel like ive done anything particularly "cool" in anything ive posted here yet but thank you

i choose shapes and colours by being lazy. as a rule i dont sketch before drawing something because otherwise i get bored. so my shapes are just what come naturally. i like simplifying and dont like realism so i dont do it. im not good with colours so i keep them flat and bright. homestuck makes that really easy cause everyones got a colour u dont really need to think about it. i like red so i use it a lot

as for cool ideas um i dunno. just get bored and go insane about something. if you get an idea dont get scared of it. if u think u cant pull it off just go for it anyways. see it thru. dont fall back onto the safety net of drawing simple stuff cause youll just build the habit and get urself more stuck. draw something bad and never show anyone if you hate it but dont let that stop u from drawing it in the first place

or do whatever you want i dont know. this advice is kinda shit

[snickerdoodlles]

some thoughts on writing humor for anyone interested;

if you want to incorporate more humor into your writing, what you really want to practice is timing. writing humor is rarely about writing an individual funny line-- you don't remember the punchline because of the line itself, you remember the punchline because of everything else that came before it. a punchline without a proper build up or proper timing is just a non-sequitur.

so, when writing a humor fic, a good thing to remember is that the punchline comes last. you can't have your funniest line at the start of your story. think of it like action-- if your first fight is the boss fight, any fight of lower stakes or difficulty that follows is going to feel lackluster in comparison. you want your story and your jokes to build to the final line, or else you'll step on the joke and lose its impact.

and this does take practice! putting the joke at the end doesn't always feel 'natural' at first, learning how to structure and build a humor story is a skill the same as learning how to do it for any other genre. personally, i'd also say humor is something that really comes out in the editing stage more than the initial drafts-- humor is very reliant on timing and rhythm, and it's hard to find and stick to a story's pacing when you're still working on the overall story structure. i mean, this sort of thing tends to go for any sort of writing, but nothing makes humor fall flat faster than wonky pacing and so (for me at least) editing is the stage where the story goes from "oh, haha" to actually funny.

(i also bring this up because fandom has a lot of jokes about not editing a finished draft before posting-- and like, totally feel you, i'm not huge on editing after i reach the end of the draft. however, i have noticed in fic circles where people will get caught up on and sometimes even discouraged by trying to be funny in the fic larva stages when the framework to be funny just isn't there yet. personally, i highlight the humor lines i'm unsure about and move on. then, when the fic's closer to 90% done or so, it's much easier to skim the overall story and cut/format/refine/etc any jokes because they're already highlighted for easy finding.)

another thing to keep in mind is that humor as a writing device is often used to release tension. i would say this is a large part of why humor often falls very naturally into scene transitions; that natural release of tension is very useful as an 'end bracket' to a scene while also setting up the audience to be freshly wound up again. this feature is useful for stories aiming for a more light-hearted tone overall, but in general stories often incorporate humor as a way of controlling a story's pacing so that the tension doesn't get too tight too fast. even if a punchline isn't your end goal, you're still building up to something and it's really helpful to edit your humorous lines by asking "does this fit with my scene/story's pacing, or is it disruptive to my buildup?"

it doesn't really matter how funny an individual line might be on its own-- if its disruptive to the story's overall flow, the joke's effect is going to come off as strained and forced. because humor is really an exercise in structure and story rhythm, the most ineffective way to study humor is to fixate on the individual jokes you remember in your favorite stories-- instead look for the threads that came before the joke that made it memorable, and then practice doing that in your own writing. usually when humor falls flat in a story, it's because either the specific joke pops out of nowhere (missing the build-up) or the joke is in the wrong spot in the story (disruptive, breaks reader immersion). sometimes the fix is as easy as reshuffling a few lines, other times it's a matter of adding more to the build up, or even cutting it altogether so that something else packs a bigger punch.

tl;dr-- i'm repeating the old adage "in comedy, timing is everything." if you want to get better at writing or incorporating humor into your stories, it's honestly more important to practice when to drop a joke than the specific wording of the joke itself.