#so it'll be fun to chew on that for a second

[orangez3st]

hi friend! Could I please make a fic request if you’re interested? 😊 I was thinking of something fluffy with an established relationship with fives and a jedi reader and maybe they feel like they need to sneak around to spend time together with snuggling or kissing but everyone already knows and they just haven't realized that yet. And maybe when they get caught everyone teases them? I actually really don't mind whatever plot you want!! Just really some fluff with fives if you're interested 🩷 tysm you are amazing! 🫶🏻

Every Second Counts

ARC Trooper Fives × GN!Jedi!Reader 

✧ Summary: You and Fives have a unique bond, and you spend a brief, invaluable time together before the war becomes your priority once more.

✧ Tags & Warnings: established relationship, forbidden love, fluff, Torrent Company shenanigans, reader is a Jedi Commander and called “sir”, character cameos: Cal Kestis and a bunch of Torrent with Rex included in a separate scene, attachment-aware jedi x clone relationship (we abide the code in this house just because), cuddles, kisses, hugs, maybe a bit angsty?

✧ Word Count: 3.5k

✧ A/N: HOORAY EARLY POST!! @precioustech much thanks for requesting! 😄💞 I admit I got a little carried away while playing around with the prompt so I hope this isn’t too far from your expectations 💛 (and I just think we should have more of this kind of relationship trope)

Masterlist | Read on AO3 | Fives divider by @lornaka and @freesia-writes

“You really think we don't notice, do you?”

It's where Fives is certain his heart is going to explode out of his chest. Nevertheless, he keeps on chewing, eyes downward onto his food tray. “Notice what?”

Dogma sitting across from him gives him a look. “How you two like to sneak around.”

“Me and Echo?” Fives deflects easily, scoffing, and smacks his twin in the back while he's drinking. Sputtering, Echo kicks him under the table. Fives ignores him. “We’re ARC’s, vod. It's like you're saying how the Jedi like to use the Force.”

“Yeah, but I'm talking about the Jedi.”

“The General? I mean, yeah. Last op was fun. We were sneaky enough. Surprisingly. For a guy like Skywalker.”

“Fives,” Tup rolls his eyes. “It's about your partner.”

“Me and E—”

“Romantic partner.” It's Echo this time, scowling and looking exhausted already.

Jesse shakes his head, sitting at the end of the dining table. “Di’kut.”

“What?” Fives challenges him, his tone aggressive but the massive grin on his face is telling otherwise. “As if you're successful sneaking around with your boyfriend as well? You should be ashamed!”

Hardcase barks a laugh. “Says the guy who's sneaking around with a kriffin’ Jedi Commander!”

That earns him a collective loud shush and a slap to the back of his bald head from Jesse.

“So jig's up, then?” Kix teases. “Actually jig's up since moons ago—goddammit, Fives. Dogma really meant it. He saw you two.”

“We were talking,” Fives huffs, his food forgotten.

“And snogging,” Echo sips on his juice.

Groaning, Fives stands, his fingers lifting the edge of his tray. “This conversation never happened. I don't know you all. Who are you? Why am I sitting here with a bunch of nosy di'kute?”

“Everything's been your choice,” Tup calls out, grinning widely while twirling his fork, as the ARC Lieutenant walks away.

“Great,” Echo rolls his eyes, drawing his datapad from his hip to leave a comm message for his twin. “Now I have to remind that he eats his fill this noon.”

“Nah,” Jesse chuckles, watching Fives throwing the tray down the chute. “I'm sure he'll get lunch someplace else.”

“Somewhere nicer,” Hardcase snickers. “Like Dex's. Or, y'know—”

“Don't you dare finish that sentence,” Dogma squints.

“Knowing our next joint op is with Cody's battalion under Fives’ Jedi lover?” Jesse scoffs—as an ARC Lieutenant himself he has the briefing in hand much earlier than the rest of the company. “It'll happen anyway.”

Echo sighs. “Can we please not talk about Fives’ bedroom adventures here.”

As Fives is marching out of the mess hall he absolutely pretends not to hear all that. Echo's comm message makes his vambrace comm beep waiting to be read. He knows what it's about. Echo always cares about him like that. He'll read it, eventually. But now, his task at hand is to find you—his stance masked by the steady walk of a soldier on duty, as if marching to the hangar to board the next cruiser with whatever star system where they need him and freshest intel in mind.

Bucket clipped to his belt, Fives strides through the boring old corridors of the 501st compound—the durasteel grey of its walls void of life and reminds him too much of Kamino. He fought hard there. But here, he fights hard too between planets and star systems. He's fighting for the galaxy now, and no longer for himself—for his old squad.

Troopers passing by. They nod at him with respect. At him. Or the ARC gears. Of the fact that he's a Geonosis veteran—the second battle, where Cody carried the entire campaign and probably in need of back surgery for that. And so many battles and skirmishes after that. He's glad to have Echo and Jesse, fellow ARCs, by his side. Rex is considering Dogma to be next—if that regulation-abiding brother of his could, for once, think outside the box and improvise since it's essentially what it means to be an ARC. Those three Rancor ARC commanders who trained them would probably laugh at poor vod’ika if he keeps that up. And probably at Rex's judgment too. Rex. Even with the jai'galaar'la sur'haii'se.

Speaking of Rex, Fives finally clocks that blond head that he knows from anywhere. Blond genes are rare among the clones, being a recessive one from one of Fett's relatives. Rex is supposedly a lucky bastard, if one considers individuality has to be placed high among others.

The captain is in the midst of talking with a pair of Jedi Commanders. In the middle of a random corridor of the 501st compound, instead of a specific briefing room. Then it can't really be too important, something mundane, probably—judging by the eager, curious smile of one of the commanders, the young one, whose freckles are so prominent that even Fives could see from this distance as he marches in their direction and bright amber hair reminding him too much of Kenobi.

And then there's you. The other one. Fives throws you a not-so-discreet charming smile as soon as your attention briefly shifts toward him, and in a matter of seconds returns to Rex, whose focus is more put toward the other commander. Must be something advisory. He's really young. Probably 11 or 12 in standard.

“Good day we're having?” Fives chimes in as he approaches, the distance closing, and the group turns toward him. Rex even sports a brief smile and slaps him in the back.

“I wouldn't call intel gathering day in Serenno as good,” the 501st commanding officer rolls his eyes.

“Ah, the usual for ARCs, Captain. You know that well, eh?”

“Sure, whatever.” Rex barely puts any resistance against his blooming smirk. He then cuts to the chase gesturing to the unfamiliar smaller and impossibly younger commander. “This is Jedi Padawan Cal Kestis, Commander of the 13th Battalion under General Jaro Tapal. Sir, this is Fives; ARC trooper, Lieutenant. One of our finest men we trust for intel gathering.”

Cal Kestis, the curious and perhaps a little shy young red-haired boy, holds out a hand for Fives to shake. “Nice to meet you, Lieutenant.”

“And you, sir. Between us, it's just Fives.” With a polite smile he's practiced a hundred times, he shakes the boy's hand, giving him a gentle yet firm shake so he wouldn't shock the life out of him. “So this is now a joint op between,” Fives tilts his head, aiming the question at Rex, “501st and 212th SpecOps, and now a part of the 13th as well?”

You step in. “Cal is joining us as a part of his training. Master Tapal insisted, and I'll be looking after him.” Fives' breath is stolen right away at hearing your voice and it makes him feel stupid in the presence of others. You place a gentle hand on Kestis’ shoulder. “So don't worry, little brother. I'll be there every step of the way.”

Kestis grimaces at the prospect of being babysat by Tapal’s former Padawan—his lineage sibling. “Maybe not in every step of the way?”

Fives goes into parade rest. “Might as well send commandos,” he aims his statement again—which is insignificant, and he knows that but he just wants to comment—at Rex.

“It's not that delicate,” Rex says, “ARCs are sufficient for this mission.”

“With a couple of lightsaber-wielding commanders,” you brightly add, mainly to keep Kestis from being intimidated by all the official chatter.

“We need to go over again about how big this facility we're talking about,” Fives suggests, throwing a nanosecond attentive glance at you.

“That'd be the best,” Rex agrees with a slow nod, and throws a brief smile at Kestis. “Especially now that we have an additional passenger on board whom I bet wouldn't wanna miss anything we have. I'll talk to Cody to gather his men.”

“Yeah, maybe there's something new,” Fives adds, referring to intel and being actually locked in although there's you—usually his primary distraction. He's proud of himself at the moment.

“I'd like to come with you if you don't mind, Captain.” Kestis’ young voice sounds like it came from a heavy internal deliberation. He doesn't want to leave your side. What an adorable young boy. He's a kid. Reminds Fives of his own Commander Tano, and also the grim part of the war that they send literal children into it.

Rex smiles encouragingly. “Sure, kid. Come along.” With a parting nod both to Fives and you, he turns and walks the other way—helmet clipped to his belt and arms swaying by his side—with the young Padawan eagerly following next to him. “I want to show you the main war room. Or is there something else you'd like to see? Like the training gym?”

“That'd be great! Have you been to the 13th Battalion compound?’

Their voices become distant, faded into faint whispers of encouragement and enthusiasm before lost on him, as they turn around the corner. And finally, there's only him. And you.

You sigh loudly. Fives tilts his head sideways at you—a relieved, loopy smile that somehow still makes him quite a looker adorn his face.

“Hey,” he softly greets you, finally free from all the serious formalities.

“Hi,” you grin, heart thrumming in delight.

“So. Cal Kestis,” he begins. “Haven't seen him around before.”

You exhale wistfully, hands going behind you back. “His battalion gets deployed to the Outer Rim lately.”

Fives balks. “Wait, not in the Sieges? With Bacara and his intimidating marine boys?”

“No, not there. Not there yet,” you shake your head, concerned. “Let's hope not. He's so young. And the Outer Rim is too brutal for him.”

Fives knows well what intragalactic war would demand of someone. He looks at you. “Even I know you won't go there.”

“We won't go there,” you correct him. “If you're not part of the 21st or Master Mundi’s padawans, it might as well be a death sentence.”

Fives hums. “Heroes.”

“Commendable bravery.” Your tone is solemn. “But here in life, we all have sacrifices to make.”

“Yeah,” he absently agrees, unsure how to interpret that. Yes, he gets the general idea, but he wonders if it goes far beyond. Deeper. Meaning upon meaning. Covered by not entirely lies, but just… hidden, lying in wait, waiting to be dug out.

“But enough about that. I'm sure Cal is in good hands—your Captain’s.” Your voice rings through his thoughts, and when he snaps his attention at you again, your lips blossom into a soft smile, and your hand held out in his direction. “Let's get out of here, shall we?”

You lead him to your temporary apartment inside the compound. It's modest at best. You may be part of the 212th, but recently both of your and Fives' battalion have been tackling Separatist presence in the Core Worlds and Mid Rim by co-op, so you spend a lot of time in and out of GAR military compounds in Coruscant. The Temple remains your forever home. While you miss the serenity of the garden and the pond, it's nothing against hearing the hustle and bustle of soldiers merely living their lives and making fun while they can. It settles several of your worries. It's alive, and you love being in the midst of it.

The moment the door of your apartment seals close, Fives wraps his strong arms around your frame, pulling you flush against his armored chest. It's a little awkward on your part and pulling a surprised squeal out of you at the pressure, so you compensate by letting go, placing a kiss on his cheek and helping to unclasp his top armor pieces. He watches you fumble with his vambrace with a mesmerized gleam in his eyes.

“Do you have any idea how attractive you are just standing in some corridor of this building?”

A loud laugh that sounds ever pleasant in his ears tumbles off your lips. Your brilliant eyes peer up at him as he patiently waits for you. “You’re only saying that because now we're here; finally having a private time for ourselves.”

“Yeah but seriously.” Fives rolls his eyes. His cheeks hurt from grinning too much. Done with the vambraces, you quickly tug off his elbow guards. “Missed you so much, cyar’ika.”

You hum, absentmindedly pecking his lips before unclasping his bicep pieces. Fives shrugs his pauldrons and entire chest and back piece off faster than your pace entirely out of muscle memory, apparently unable to hold his patience out for much longer. He crushes you against his toned chest, muffling your giggles and playful squeals as he places a big wet kiss on top of your head.

“Okay okay! I missed you too!” you giggle for mercy, letting out a startled yelp again when he grabs the sides of your face to crash his lips against yours. It's only temporary, yet still leaving you breathless by the time he pulls away, before kissing you again much gentler afterward.

You sigh into his lips, your arms wind around his neck. Fives holds you closer, pinning you against his warm torso. His chest bubbles with so much immeasurable happiness and relief that he lets out an involuntary chuckle, stroking your cheek and leaning his forehead against yours as he reels away from the intoxicating kiss.

“Joint ops are amazing since I can focus on legit ARC missions…” He playfully pinches your side, chuckling at your small adorable yelp. “While staring at you across the war room during briefs. It's a good chance. Worth every single time.”

“You know that really sounds creepy, Fives,” you giggle.

Your lover smiles widely, gently rocking your bodies side to side. “It's beneficial.”

You roll your eyes. “More joint operations aren't exactly doing us any good if we still wanna keep us a secret.”

He nearly groans remembering the mess hall conversation with the others. “Actually it might even not be a secret anymore.”

You freeze and blink at him. “Say again?”

“The boys somehow know about us,” he admits after letting out a big dramatic sigh. Because just great. It's most top fear for couples who want to keep their relationship a secret, and somehow he blew it off. Worse thing is he doesn't know when—when they started to know, when the word circulated around—and most especially; how they knew.

It only takes you a moment to digest it all, including the existing consequences. “‘Somehow’?” you inquire teasingly. “You're an ARC trooper, Fives. I thought ‘somehow’ isn't in your dictionary.” 

“This one escaped me.” His voice falls quieter, disappointment in himself flooding his chest. But your eyes are so forgiving that you almost don't seem to mind. It's disappointing, too. “I’m so sorry,” he says anyway.

You sigh softly, carding a hair through his coarse curls. “It's not your fault.” You're stroking his cheek, a soft smile on your lips, and Fives learns into your touch that eventually blossoms into a full palm on cheek. “Maybe we weren't subtle enough.”

“Still.” He then buries his face into your shoulder. Your robes smell like some woody and floral aroma that indistinctly can be found at the Temple, and he tries to find comfort in that while he pours his heart out. “I put a lot on your plate. I don't ever wanna do that to you. You've got a lot of burden being a commander of your own battalion, and I don't want you to worry about getting kicked out of the Order.”

Fives feels you smile against his neck, and his back shivers from how your fingers curl into his blacks. “Thank you for worrying about me,” he hears you whisper. You place a chaste kiss on his jaw. “But all that you mentioned has been there all my life.”

He pouts. He lowkey wishes you could see him like that. “But I'm making it worse.”

The subtle shaking of your head makes a rustling noise against his skin. “Nonsense. You're making everything better.” You reel away from his neck to take his lips upon yours. Your eyes glimmer again as you gaze into his soul, piercing his barriers altogether. “We're together. That's what matters.”

Fives tightens his arms around you almost possessively, shutting his eyes to just hear your soft breathing against him and relishing your presence in his arms. “Aside from the war that we found ourselves in.”

“Precisely,” you murmur, “I can’t give you much, but you'll always have me. Whatever you need.”

He releases a long sigh. It unexpectedly comes from deep inside him—all the wishes, all the hopes. All the questions and impatience still entrapped by a sturdy net. He has a purpose. He can't forget that.

“I know.” Fives opens his eyes to your soft grateful smile. “Can I kiss you again?”

“If I ever say no, you may use my lightsaber on me.”

He chuckles. “I just really like kissing you.” His lips find yours again, and he can almost taste the honey and cornbread you've had for after-lunch snack on you. “You're addicting.”

“Careful,” you tease.

“M’still within the borders of my respect, sir,” Fives grins, his feet driving you to pace backwards so that he could gently push you to sit on your bed. He remains standing, yet his hand finds your jaw to caress them as softly as he can. “Just stating my affection. Unless affection is forbidden for the Jedi?”

You giggle softly. “You're really cheeky with your words. As if your vocabulary changes when you're near me.”

“Good sir, however thou art mean?”

“Stop it,” you let out a full belly laugh that you cover your mouth with your hand. “You sound too silly. I like you just silly.”

“Right.” His chest warms at your delighted sound, which by his humblest opinion is incomparable against Naboo’s beautiful blossoms and the sound of trickling river in the wild. “Then let this silly man kiss you to death, hm?”

Fives descends on you before you can answer. His movement is precise as he maneuvers his limbs to cage you in, clearly not intending to make you uncomfortable in your own bed. One knee and both forearms by either side of your head propping him up, his mouth moves against yours carefully, gently. You sigh into the kiss as he slowly lowers himself onto your body, pressing you against the mattress to let you feel his weight comfortably resting on top of yours.

You pull away from his lips. “Can we stay like this?”

A comfortable heat crawls up his body seeing you breathless and batting your eyelashes innocently at him. His chest swells, already settling on an answer as he places one last peck on your lovely lips. “‘Course we can, cyar’ika.”

You mutter your heartfelt thanks like a polite Jedi you are as you both shuffle around the bed to find a comfortable position. Fives lays down on your pillow, one arm behind his head and your head resting on top of his chest. No matter how long you two have spent moments like this, it never fails his heart to beat even faster. His affection grows and swells to the point it no longer can't be contained, so oftentimes his arm tightens around your shoulders as if he has a cuteness aggression for you, and before you know it he places another big wet kiss on top of your head that always leave you giggling every single time.

It's quiet moments like this. Grateful to have each other in each other's company although occasionally separated by campaigns. It's a fate that's neither cruel nor fortunate that your battalion and his often join forces. One would say it's a distraction. But his focus persists. And sometimes, thousands of light-years away, Fives wonders about you. Sometimes sending a comm could be too risky—every communication is closely monitored.

He always prepares for the worse, but not that he's never used to that. His affection for you has grown deep and taken roots. Fives cares about you just as much as he cares about the chance of winning campaign after campaign. Time and space and understanding have always been present between the both of you, and thus every moment is precious just as every ticking second counts. Every kiss counts. Every traded word counts. Anything could be your last, or his.

So when his vambrace beeps, signaling a comm message from Rex about the assembly with the 212th, a sigh of satisfaction—long and forgiving—blows through his nostrils. You raise your head to meet his gaze, your smile already full with acceptance and anticipation.

“Let's win again this time, Fives, my dear,” you say encouragingly, stroking his cheek and kissing him again one last time. Before you can pull away, Fives deepens the kiss, his hand pressing the back of your head to keep you there.

“For the greater good,” he murmurs against his lips, fire igniting inside his chest. “And seeing you again, obviously.”

You chuckle at his clinginess. Once again, your sounds of joy bring consolation within him, and your confident, passionate smile brightens his life.

“And seeing you again, yeah.”

Taglist: @yoursrosie @hellfiresky @filamentlights @msmeredithrose @heidnspeak @lucyysthings @emmaw18 @leiopython-rat @gh0st-c0mpany @br00kthe0takuuuu @ct7567329 @returnofthepineapple

A/N: You can request for x reader in my askbox! If you're interested in my clone x reader oneshots you can sign up as well to be tagged of future works. (Link provided ⬆️)

[weaponizedmoth]

Little church.

ko-fi | inprnt | commissions

[egophiliac]

Hello ! I positively adore the running joke of Idia unknowingly finding Lilia to be the coolest guy ever whenever he doesn't know it's him, like when Silver described his father, or obviously with muscle red. I can't say what'd be funnier, Idia finding out his online best friend is actually Lilia, resident spooky hyper fairy; or them both never finding out, and it'd become even more ridiculous as time goes on. How do you think it'll play out ? You're always so on point

(Also, though it makes sense, I'm still devastated bat boy didn't get a ticket for the Halloween skeleton train : ( does anyone mentions him at some point ? Like how he'd have fit right in with all those Halloween town little freaks, and how he'd have impressed them with his spooks and scared techniques; after all he's been every Briar Valley's children worst fear on Halloween for centuries. I'm on the eng server and I didn't wanna spoil myself by watching the whole thing on youtube)

Have a nice day !

you and me both, Idia and Lilia being oblivious online BFFs (+ Idia being incredibly intimidated any time Silver brings up his jock gamer dad) is my favorite running joke/subplot. 🤝 it's SO good, to the point where I also am unsure if I actually want it to ever be resolved or not...maybe, like, as a post-canon stinger or something? everyone's standing around covered in overblot ink, and Idia and Lilia's phones go off at the same time...

(legit I do think this is part of why Idia couldn't be present for Lilia's dream, because for some reason Lilia decided he was going to just. embody his past self online. he probably quotes his own battle strategies or whatever in the middle of boss fights. Idia didn't pick up on the whole "oh how weird that we both live on a super remote island" thing, but he would spend thirty seconds listening to General Lilia describing siege warfare and be like "w-wait")

all that aside, however it does end up happening, I do see Lilia being very blasé and all "oh! cool!" about it. y'know, taking it very much in stride! and Idia...very much not.

(can't tell if tumblr is going to chew this into illegibility or not, this will be a fun surprise ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ)

as for Lilia sadly missing out on Halloweentown shenanigans...he does get one little mention as part of an offhand reference to the light music club, but so far no one has brought up how this basically is just Lost In the Book of Liliatown (Sebek's been too busy yelling about not getting to be in the same group as Malleus). 😔 honestly though, it's probably for the best that he got left out, because he would just settle right in and refuse to ever leave. canon would shatter. we would miss out on all the delightful angst of episode 7 because Lilia is too busy eating poisonous shrubbery inbetween practicing his very best screams, and no one can pull him away from it.

(I can hope for a sequel next year though...)

[heliosunny]

Yandere!Phainon with a reader who tries to run away but with the song- "veronica, open the door" from meant to be yours ifyk wht mean......

Ah, Heathers. You have no idea how much I love it.

Meant to be yours

Yandere!Phainon x Reader

Valentine’s Day was always an eventful time.

You weren’t exactly famous, but you had enough admirers to receive a decent number of gifts every year—small tokens of appreciation, letters with clumsy handwriting, and carefully wrapped sweets. It was harmless. Fun, even.

This year was no different. The morning started with a few gifts waiting for you, a mix of chocolates and little trinkets from people who admired you from afar. Phainon watched with mild disinterest as you sorted through them, his sharp gaze flicking over each item with the wariness of a guard dog.

"You really accept anything from anyone, don’t you?"

"It’d be rude not to. And most of these are just harmless chocolates."

Phainon didn’t seem convinced, but he let it go—until later that evening when you bit into one of the sweets and felt a sharp, searing pain tear through your mouth. The metallic taste of blood spread instantly, and you recoiled, coughing as you spit out the candy. A glint of something sharp caught the light, coated in crimson.

Phainon was at your side in an instant. His fingers gripped your chin, tilting your head so he could see the damage. His expression darkened, eyes narrowing as his gaze flickered between your bleeding lip and the candy on the floor.

"Who gave this to you?"

You barely managed to answer. You had seen Phainon irritated before, but this was something different.

Phainon didn’t give you a choice. One moment, you were still reeling from the pain, and the next, he had you on your feet, practically dragging you out the door.

"Phainon—!" You tried to protest, but his grip on your wrist tightened.

"You’re going to the doctor" he said, his voice eerily calm, but the way his nails dug into your skin betrayed the tension in his body. "No arguments."

The trip was a blur. You were vaguely aware of Phainon keeping an arm around your shoulders, his pace quick and his grip firm, as if he expected you to collapse at any second. The moment you stepped into the clinic, he didn’t even let you speak for yourself.

"My friend ate some sweets" he informed the doctor, "Something sharp was inside."

"You're lucky you didn't swallow it." the doctor said, peering into your mouth with a critical eye. "The cut isn't too deep, but it'll be sensitive for a while. Avoid anything too hot, spicy, or hard to chew. And definitely no more mystery chocolates."

You winced as they dabbed disinfectant on the wound. You felt Phainon's entire body tense beside you and his gaze burning into the side of your face, but you didn’t dare turn to look at him.

The doctor sighed, scribbling something down. "Just be careful. If you start feeling unwell, dizziness, nausea—anything unusual—come back immediately. But for now, you're fine to go."

You muttered a small thanks before sliding off the chair, but before you could even move toward the door, Phainon’s hand was already on your wrist.

He didn’t let go.

Not even on the way home.

That night, you lay in bed, staring at the dim light of your phone screen.

Phainon [11:07 PM]: Does it still hurt?

You sighed, rolling onto your side before replying.

You [11:09 PM]: It's fine. Just a little sore. You [11:09 PM]: Stop worrying so much.

He didn’t reply right away, but you could see the three little dots appearing and disappearing as if he kept typing, deleting, and retyping his response.

Phainon [11:12 PM]: I’ll handle it.

Your fingers hovered over the keyboard. Handle what?

You wanted to ask, but something in your gut told you not to.

Instead, you turned off your phone and tried to sleep.

The next morning, Phainon was already waiting for you outside, leaning against the wall with his hands in his pockets. When he saw you, he immediately straightened, his gaze sweeping over you like he was checking for any signs of harm.

"Did anyone bother you last night?"

You blinked. "No? Why would they?"

He didn’t answer, but then, as you turned the corner, his body suddenly went rigid.

"Go inside"

You followed his gaze and spotted the person standing at the far end of the street. A man, older than you, dressed in plain clothes. He wasn’t doing anything suspicious, just standing near a lamppost, looking down at something in his hands.

"Phainon, what—"

"Inside."

You hesitated but took a few steps toward your door. When you turned back to glance at him, he was already walking toward the stranger.

At the time, you thought nothing of it.

But later that evening, the news spread.

A man had been found dead in an alley. His throat slit cleanly, the wound too precise to be from a random attack.

And when you saw Phainon again, there was a small, almost unnoticeable red stain on the sleeve of his jacket.

----

The room was dimly lit, the only illumination coming from the glow of Phainon’s phone screen. The soft click of his nails against the glass echoed through the silence as he scrolled through your social media.

His eyes flicking between posts, comments. He was thorough—checking likes, reactions, and replies. It was a routine now.

Then he found it.

An unusual profile.

The account was old but recently active. No personal photos, no real name, just vague posts and replies under your pictures. Nothing overtly hostile, but something was off.

His fingers hovered over the screen.

Phainon [12:47 AM]: Who are you?

The response was quick.

Unknown [12:48 AM]: Who’s asking?

A slow smirk curled at the corner of Phainon’s lips. Interesting.

Phainon [12:49 AM]: Someone looking to talk. Face-to-face.

Unknown [12:51 AM]: Lol. You’re coming off strong, man. What do you want?

Phainon [12:52 AM]: You seem close with Y/N. Thought I’d introduce myself.

The typing bubble appeared, vanished, then returned.

Unknown [12:55 AM]: …You’re not their boyfriend, are you?

Phainon’s grip on the phone tightened.

Phainon [12:56 AM]: Meet me tomorrow. Let’s talk.

He sent a location. An alley. Quiet, empty at night.

The typing bubble flickered again.

Unknown [12:57 AM]: Sounds shady as hell.

Phainon [12:58 AM]: Just a conversation. Unless you have something to hide?

Unknown [1:00 AM]: Fine.

The air was cold. The alley was dimly lit, Phainon leaned against the wall, idly spinning a cutter knife between his fingers. The silver blade glinted under the light.

Footsteps approached.

The man—young, nervous—stepped into the alley. He hesitated, shifting on his feet, eyes darting around.

"You’re the guy from the messages?" he asked, voice guarded.

"I am."

"You’re kinda creepy, man."

Phainon chuckled. "Am I? You’re the one lurking around my friend’s profile. You ask a lot of questions. Seem awfully curious about where they are."

"So what? You got a problem with that?"

"I do, actually."

The knife clicked as he extended the blade.

The man’s eyes flicked to the weapon, then back to Phainon’s face. "…Dude. You’re seriously pulling a knife on me?"

"That depends. Were you planning something?"

The man scoffed, shaking his head. "You’re insane. I just follow their posts. It’s not illegal."

"You’re right. It’s not."

The blade slashed upward, catching the man’s throat before he could react. A sharp, wet gasp escaped him as he stumbled back, hands flying to his neck, blood gushing between his fingers.

Phainon caught him before he could hit the ground, gently lowering him as if handling something delicate.

The man’s mouth opened, choking on air, struggling to speak.

Phainon crouched beside him, tilting his head. "You know," he murmured, "you’re right. Maybe you weren’t a threat. Maybe you were just some nobody with too much time on your hands."

The body twitched. The blood pooled. And Phainon wiped his blade clean against the man’s jacket before standing.

He exhaled, running a hand through his hair. Then, with the same casual ease as someone finishing an errand, he stepped over the body and walked away.

Tomorrow, he would check your social media again.

----

It didn’t stop with that first body.

The deaths began piling up. Some were dismissed as tragic accidents. Others, the authorities labeled as suicides.

The first was a boy from your school—a popular guy, known for his playful flirting with you. His body was found hanging in his bedroom one morning, the door locked from the inside. A suicide note was placed neatly on his desk. The handwriting matched his own.

But his friends swore he had been fine the day before.

Then there was the girl who used to compete with you academically, often smugly boasting about outscoring you on tests. She was found in a bathtub, wrists slit open. Her phone—dropped carelessly on the bathroom tiles—had messages on the screen. Ones she had apparently sent to herself.

"I’m sorry." "I can’t do this anymore." "Goodbye."

People mourned. Teachers gave sympathetic speeches. Candlelight vigils were held.

And Phainon?

He never said much.

Then, days later, another death. A boy who had confessed to you once, only to be rejected. He had jumped from the school rooftop. The security footage showed him stepping over the edge without hesitation.

No one had pushed him. No one was there.

And yet… the way he stood, completely still, right before he jumped—almost like he was listening to someone.

The pattern didn’t go unnoticed.

The police arrived at your school, officers questioning teachers and students alike. But no one knew anything. No connections were found. No evidence of foul play.

And Phainon?

He answered their questions with ease.

"I didn’t know them well." "I don’t think they were struggling, but I can’t say for sure." "It’s really tragic."

No one suspected him.

Then, one night, you learned the truth.

It was late. But you had left something at school- your book, forgotten in the rush to leave.

The campus was empty, eerily silent under the flickering streetlights. You moved quickly, slipping through the hallways, grabbing your thing, ready to go home.

But then you heard it. Someone's voice.

And there he was.

Phainon.

Standing in front of a student you vaguely recognized. A trembling figure backed against the wall, eyes wide with terror.

And in Phainon’s hand…

A stationery knife.

"You don’t have to do this..." the student whimpered.

"But I do, You’ve been getting too close."

"I-I won’t say anything, I swear—!"

"You think I trust you? Come on. Let’s make this easy. No unnecessary pain."

The knife glinted.

The student collapsed.

Phainon let the body fall, crouching beside it, tilting his head in quiet observation. Then, just like always, he wiped the blade clean and pocketed it.

You stumbled back, breath ragged. Your heartbeat pounded in your ears.

You had to leave.

You turned and ran, slipping away before he could notice.

The next morning, you couldn’t look at him.

Phainon greeted you as usual, "Did you sleep well?"

You didn’t answer.

"Something wrong? You seem off today."

You forced a nod, gripping your bag tight. Your palms were clammy.

And from that day on, you avoided him.

You didn’t speak. You didn’t text.

But Phainon didn’t like it.

It started with a knock at the door.

Your stomach twisted the moment you heard your mother’s voice: "Oh, Phainon! What a surprise! Come in, dear."

You sat frozen in your room, staring at the door as your mother led him inside.

"Is Y/N in?"

"Yes! Upstairs. Let me-"

"Ah," Phainon interrupted smoothly, voice as polite as ever. "No need to bother Y/N. I’ll just stop by another time."

Your mother laughed lightly. "Oh, don’t be silly! They’ll be happy to see you."

You weren’t happy to see him. You weren’t happy at all.

But the doorknob didn’t turn. There was no knock on your door.

Instead, after a moment, you heard his voice downstairs again.

"Actually, I have to run. Thank you for having me."

You thought you were safe.

You thought he had left.

But as you walked through the quiet streets that evening, heading anywhere but home, you felt it.

"Why are you avoiding me?"

His voice cut through the air, close.

You turned sharply. Phainon stood behind you. The dim streetlight cast eerie shadows across his face.

"I—"

"You haven’t been talking to me. You won’t even look at me." He took a step forward. "Did I do something?"

Your should pretend that it’s fine. Pretend you don’t know.

But the image of the knife, the blood, the lifeless bodies flashed in your mind. And before you could stop yourself, the words spilled out.

"I saw you."

"You what?"

"That night. At school. I saw you. I saw what you did."

"You’re not making any sense."

"Stop lying." Your voice wavered, but you forced the words out. "Just say it. Confess. Admit what you did."

"So....You’re scared of me."

"No....I..."

"Why? I did it for you-"

"Because I should be.. Because you're a murderer."

You turned and walked away. Left him standing there.

You didn’t look back.

Not even when he called your name.

----

Phainon was gone.

He didn’t show up at school.

No texts. No calls. No messages.

And somehow, that scared you more.

Because Phainon never left without a reason.

And whatever he was planning next…

You wouldn’t see it coming.

For days, Phainon didn’t return to school.

At first, you tried to convince yourself that it was over. That maybe—maybe—he had finally decided to leave you alone.

But then, the feeling started.

That creeping sensation of being watched.

At home. On the way to school. Even in broad daylight.

You stopped leaving your curtains open. You avoided walking alone. You tried to tell yourself that it was paranoia.

Then, one night, you saw him.

Through the window.

Standing across the street.

Watching.

And when your eyes met—

He smiled.

You kept your door locked. You double-checked the windows. You kept your phone close, ready to call for help.

BANG

You jolted awake.

Someone was pounding on your front door.

Your phone screen lit up. Phainon. Calling. Again. And again.

BANG, BANG, BANG.

You stayed frozen in bed, your breath shaky.

"Y/N… Open the door."

You squeezed your eyes shut. No. No, no, no.

"I know you’re awake."

You swallowed, forcing yourself to stay silent.

"Come on… just come out and talk to me."

"You used to talk to me." His voice was quieter now, almost sad. "Why won’t you talk to me anymore?"

"I miss you...."

You gripped your blanket tight, every muscle in your body locked up.

More knocking.

"Y/N, open the door please..."

"I won’t leave until you talk to me."

More pounding.

"Please, Y/N... I just want to see you. Everything I did.. I did it for you. I protected you, cared for you,.. Don't you see? I... was meant to be yours..."

No more pounding.

After awhile, you forced yourself to move, crawling out of bed, tiptoeing toward the window instead of the door. Hands trembling, you peeked through the blinds—

And there he was.

Not at the door anymore.

Standing in your yard. Staring straight up at your window.

His phone still in his hand.

Your own phone vibrated again. Another call.

Then, a message.

"I can see you."

You stumbled backward.

Another message.

"If you won’t open the door…"

The typing bubble appeared.

"I’ll come in myself."

Your hands shook as you backed away from the window, heart hammering so loud it drowned out the sound of your own breathing.

You can't seem to find a space to hide.

Click.

Did the door just unlocked? How? How?!

The door creaked open.

A hand clamped over your mouth. An arm wrapped around your torso, yanking you back before you could even scream.

Your muffled cries were useless as your back slammed against his chest.

"Shh," Phainon whispered against your ear. His grip tightened as you thrashed, "It’s okay, I’ve got you."

You tried to scream, but his palm pressed harder against your lips.

"You kept running. Kept hiding. That’s not very nice."

Tears pricked your eyes. You twisted in his grip, your nails digging into his wrist.

"I didn’t want to do it this way, but you left me no choice."

Do what?

"I took care of your parents."

Your eyes went wide, frantic, searching for any possible meaning—any possibility that you misheard him.

But he only smiled, voice gentle. "Don’t worry, they didn’t suffer."

No, no, no—!

Your scream was muffled against his hand, your entire body wracked with terror.

He killed them.

"You don’t have to be scared" he whispered. "You have me now. I’ll take care of you."

But just when his grip loosened slightly, and in a blind surge of desperation, you bit down on his hand.

"Ah—"

He flinched, just enough for you to break free.

You stumbled forward, sprinting toward the door. But the second you stepped into the hallway, you saw your parents. Sprawled on the floor in a pool of blood, eyes empty, throats slit clean.

A sharp, ugly scream tore out of you.

The world spun. Your knees buckled.

-----

Your body was heavy.

Something soft beneath you—a bed. But the air felt wrong.

Not your room.

Your head throbbed as your eyes fluttered open.

"Finally awake?"

You turned your head slowly to see Phainon sat at the edge of the bed.

"Sorry about earlier" he murmured. "I know that was… a lot to take in."

Your hands clenched the sheets.

"But it’s okay now," he continued, leaning forward. "You’re safe here. No more bad people. No more threats."

He reached forward, his fingers brushing your cheek with disturbing tenderness.

"You’ll start your new life here," he whispered. "With me."

----

ʕ•ᴥ•ʔ If you don’t see me posting as often, it’s either because I’m busy or feeling sick. I have over 130 requests, but I’m working on the plots and will finish some of them soon!

[clarkeybabey]

❝ i need you to fill the void ❞

# summary; someone spoils your secret

# playlist; void, the neighbourhood, nothing's gonna hurt you baby, cigarettes after sex.

# word count; 1.2k

# note; freya, faith, and talia cameo, I didn't proofread and I hate this oops.

Have a wedding they said, it'll be fun they said. You can't name a time when you've been this stressed out and anxious in all your years of living. To make it even worse, the one person who could help you breathe through all of this wasn't going to able to see you for another three and a half hours.

Last night, for the sake of tradition, you slept without George for the first time in more than a year. He texted you about a thousand times after you finally fell asleep about how he couldn't wait to be tied to you for the rest of your lives, which meant you woke up in the best of moods despite the lack of his presence.

Keeping everything a secret wasn't hard, since everyone had done it before for Simon and Talia. Unfortunately, some people you thought you could trust with an invitation weren't the most reliable. Your friends were sat off to the side some snapping pictures of you and themselves, others scrolling social media. Freya gasps, she's unable to control the way her lips purse, and brows crease as she turns the volume of her phone down as quick as possible.

You're sat in a chair, your makeup artist hard at work. "Something wrong?" In the blink of an eye, the girls are all standing around Freya, staring at the screen in disbelief.

Talia chews at her bottom lip before speaking, "Y/N, sweetheart, I'm gonna show you something, but I want you to try not to freak out."

You swear you feel your throat begin to close at the slight waver in her voice, now it's your turn for your brows to knit together, "I'll try," you mumble, absentmindedly picking at your manicure.

She makes her way to you as slow as ever with Freya in tow with her phone, which she hands off to you after turning the volume back up, swiping up and back to the video to restart it. You recognize the username as a girl George had introduced you to a few months ago at the sidemen's anniversary party, you don't recall sending her an invitation...

The video begins with a screech from her, "Hi, guys! This get-ready with me is extra special, this time my friend George is getting married," you feel your stomach drop, cheeks warming as she talks about only being a plus one to someone whose name goes in one ear and straight out the other.

"This better be a fuckin' joke," bile begins to rise in your throat and tears threaten to melt away every bit of the 45 minutes spent on your nearly Pinterest-perfect makeup. When you click on the comments you notice there are some from mere seconds ago and steadily continue to pour in, you shake your head hoping someone will pinch you and wake you from this atrocious nightmare, "God, I really wish this was a joke," you whisper, your bottom lip trembling uncontrollably.

You look up at the girls around you as you slowly start to crumble under the weight of it all. Faith is typing away furiously, jamming her fingers against her phone screen, you hand Freya her phone back, wordlessly reaching for your own that was laying screen down on the vanity.

When the screen comes to life you see messages, notifications from dms, posts, and tweets you've been tagged in. Nothing really catches your eye aside from two missed calls from George and a few texts just under them.

my fiance 😝😈: call me when you see this please, darling

And you did exactly that. He answers on the first ring, his soft, accented voice filling your ear ripping another sob from your throat, "Y'alright, love?" He asks knowing the answer, hoping to god you weren't on tiktok to see what he'd seen a few minutes ago, but as you cry into the speaker he understands you have.

You shake your head, before remembering that he can't see your actions, "No," you croak, making him sigh and shake his head. This is your day and somehow someone's managed to ruin it for you.

To be completely honest, George couldn't care less about everything being secret, but all you wanted through the whole planning process was privacy, no huge party after the ceremony, nothing.

You didn't want to post anything until you were boarding the plane for your well-deserved nearly three-week honeymoon. And your fiance was more than happy to oblige.

"Can you come here? Please, I couldn't give two fucks about tradition, we're fuckin' tiktokers for god's sake." you pause a second until you hear shuffling on his end, followed by a snort. "I'm already outside, baby," you hear the smile in his voice, you keep your phone pressed to your ear with your shoulder.

When the door swings open, he's standing there looking so damn good in the suit you picked out together so many months ago and it makes you cry even harder, knowing how much of a snotty mess you probably look now all because everything not going the way you imagined.

He wraps you into his arms before you're able to say anything, breathing you in. "You look beautiful," he steps back from you keeping a comforting hand on your hip as he looks you up in down, "this satin?" He asks pinching at the material of your dressing gown, to which you simply nod, your throat still feeling tight.

Of course, he notices how much everything's eating you alive, "I handled it, sweetheart. I figured out who invited her, they know we don't think its a good idea for her to come," he gives you a reassuring squeeze, watching your face closely for any change of expression.

You pursed your lips taking a deep breath through your nose, "Thank you, I missed you so much," he smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling, instead of responding immediately, he chose to envelope you into his arms. Your ear is pressed against his chest so close you can hear his heart thumping against his ribcage, "Missed you more, could hardly sleep without you."

This time when he pulls away, his hands cup your face, and his lips meet yours in what you swear is the best kiss you've ever had, he doesn't keep you like that for as long as you'd like, leaving you chasing after the feeling. He rests his forehead against yours and his hand slips from your cheek to your neck where he feels your pulse quicken.

He breathes you in, this time stepping back for real knowing the girls are waiting for you, "Now go get in the dress I've been hearing about for months, wanna hurry up and make you mine for life."

You smile, the first real one you've worn since reading his messages this morning, "So impatient," you mutter and he shakes his head, swatting at your bum, "I can show you impatient," he quirks a brow, his voice is laced with suggestiveness that's unmistakable

"Later," he raises his hands in surrender as you turn back to the door that's ajar, his hand catches your wrist, turning you around quicker than you could let a gasp escape you. His lips find yours once more and you exhale out of your nose, relaxing against him as he smiles against your mouth. "Now you're free to go," your fingers dance along your now tingling lips, as you watch him disappear down the hallway,

When you return to the girls you almost have forgotten the original situation at hand aside from the fact that maybe every little thing about him is the best.

[the-raindeer-king]

(A/N: prt 3 of Mama Riley! One use of pronouns but it's nothing too gendered. Ignore any spelling error. I wrote part of this half asleep.)

Silence stretches out between you and Mama Riley. She's dropped an absolute bombshell of information so casually, as if it was like talking about the weather. And she's so confident in her statement, leaving no room for argument.

You're not entirely sure how to respond. But you manage to squeak out, “Is that so?” which is such a bad response. You can't help but cringe at yourself.

It makes Mama Riley laugh though. She really does like you. You're a firecracker, in her opinion, and she thinks you'd be good for Simon. But she promises that if you don't want to date him, that's okay. You two were friends before Simon caught feelings, and she won't let anything change that. She tells you to at least consider it.

You spend the next week considering it. Looking back over your interactions with Simon, knowing how he feels, it feels almost obvious. He's tense around you because he likes you. He keeps bringing you gifts and remembering your favorite drink because he likes you.

But where do your own feelings lie? You hated him in the beginning, and gradually warmed up to the mountain of a man. But do you have feelings for him? The thought process makes your head spin, and there's a weird feeling in your chest. The question is no closer to being answered.

Not until he returns from deployment. He's got a new scar on his ear, and there's a limp in his walk. Caught a knife in the side, just barely missed anything important, he informs you and his mum. And your heart clenches at the thought.

Before you can really think about it, you're scolding him for being so casual about being injured. He's got people who care about him, he can't be so flippant about these things. He has a reason to come home, so he needs to act like it. If not for his own sake, then for you and his mom.

Despite the fact that you're chewing him out, there's this tender look on his face, affection in his eyes. He quietly huffs out a ‘yes ma'am/sir’, and the warmth in his eyes is reflected by the warmth growing on your cheeks.

There's a pause, something heavy in the air. Simon opens his mouth, ready to say something, but the moment is broken when Mama Riley comes bustling into the living room, dinner plates in hand. Her eyes dart between the two of you for a moment, a knowing smile on her face. But she doesn't comment on anything, just passes out dinner and settles down on the loveseat.

Over the next few weeks, you and Simon have a lot of tense moments, ready to finally admit your feelings to each other. But each time is ruined by some interruption. Mama Riley interrupts, your phone rings. Once, the kids down the hall came running past, shrieking about the upcoming snowfall.

Poor Simon is trying not to totally lose it. This is the closest he's gotten to admitting his feelings, to have you finally, and every time something interrupts you. He doesn't want to mess this up. It needs to be perfect because, in his head, that's what you deserve, that's how he's going to win you over. Unbeknownst to Simon, he's already won your heart. He just needs to ask you out.

Once again, it's Mama Riley to the rescue. You three have a tradition: the days leading up to Simon's next deployment, you all spend the night at Mama Riley's flat together. Now, Simon's on leave for the next few weeks, but she can't bear to watch the two of you struggle like this.

So she invites you both over, insisting that it'll be nice to have you both over for something fun instead of sad. And then she conveniently remembers that she's got a book club tonight, and she leaves, telling you two to get comfy, watch a movie. She'll be back.

Now's a better time than never, especially since Mama Riley's practically given you the chance. She's gone all of two seconds, before you whip your attention onto Simon, blurting out, “Your mom told me you're in love with me. Is that true?”

[urmomsfavoritelittleone]

THE STARRY NIGHT

Namgyu & Reader

SPOILERS SQUID GAME SEASON 3

(I forgot some of the dialogue so I just winged it. Hopefully, you enjoy:)

"Fuck fuck fuck"

The guard hands you a red box. Your red vest covers your green and white shirt.

"The seekers will be given a weapon to fight the hiders."

One of the guards standing in front of you said.

The boy next to you couldn't stop fidgeting.

"Thank you."

His voice was shaky but you think it was just because of the drugs hidden on his neck.

He quickly opens the box grabs the pink and blue knife and drops the red box on the ground.

He looks at it for a second before cutting his finger.

"Hsss."

He hisses in pain and puts his finger in his mouth.

"Oo hoo hoo."

He growls pointing his knife at the blue vested group standing next to him.

You open your red box and place it on the ground. Firmly holding the knife in your hand.

"The hiders will have 2 minutes to hide. These keys will allow you to access rooms in the maze."

The guard hands them blue boxes.

The sound of hardwood hitting the floor as people grab their keys and place them around their necks echoes in the room.

"You will have a choice to switch your team with another person who would also like to switch."

The guard steps down, and everyone moves around out of their formal lines.

You sit in the corner of the room trying to catch your breath. Your heart beating out of your chest.

"You were scared of me minsu? Heh."

The boy that once stood next to you was now yelling at another man.

He finished yelling at Minsu and came over to you. He kneeled in front of you where you sat.

"You wanna team up?"

He asked.

"This isn't a team game?"

"It'll be easier to kill if we're looking out for each other."

"Why would I look out for you?"

"I'm not asking for anything crazy. Like a relationship or anything..."

He thinks for a moment before continuing.

"Just a one-night stand."

He takes your hand into his and holds it against his cheek.

"Please Y/N"

His hands were cold and shaking.

You thought for a second.

"Give me one of those first."

You pointed at the jewelry dangling from his neck.

He grabs the necklace.

"Oh, you want one of these...and you'll team with me..?"

"Yeah."

He opens the cross grabbing a blue pill.

"Open widee."

He says.

You open your mouth and he places the blue pill on your tongue.

You chew it and can almost instantly feel the effects.

"The game will begin soon. Hiders line up." The guard said.

The people in blue vests lined up and slowly entered the room and the door closed behind them.

"So what's your strategy?"

You asked Namgyu.

"Strategy? Just go in there and start slashin."

"How do you plan on finding anybody?"

"Hm, you're right maybe we do need a strategy."

He puts a finger on your temple.

"Damn youre so smart Y/N!"

He folded his hands on your knee and placed his head on top of them. Looking up at you.

"Strategy, strategy strategy." He repeated.

You stood up knocking him back so that he was now sitting on the floor instead of kneeling.

Several people with red vests stood in front of the double door waiting for it to open, you stood patiently behind them.

"Y/N wait up!" Namgyu said, rushing behind you and placing his head on yours.

"Red team get ready."

The guard said.

The doors slowly opened and you all ran inside. The blue ceiling immediately caught your eye.

"Whoa." You said.

Namgyu is behind you spinning around quickly.

By now everyone ran in separate directions leaving only you and Namgyu at the beginning of the maze.

Namgyu is swinging his knife around fake stabbing people.

"Let's go." You ran for a hallway to the left of you. Namgyu running behind you practically squealing.

You both wandered around for a moment before something caught your eye.

"Namgyu shush."

He whined. But he did as you said.

"You're no fun."

You quickly turned a corner to find a lady with long black hair wearing a blue vest.

"Oo we're gonna kill you!" Namgyu screamed.

You lifted your knife and ran at her she tried to turn around a wall and miscalculated how far to run before turning and ran straight into the wall.

"FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK!" She yelled.

"SHUT THE FUCK UP BITCH!" Namgyu yelled before you both stabbed her repeatedly.

She sat lifeless.

"Holy shit."

Namgy sat next to her dead body.

"Did you see that?"

He asked.

"See what?"

"The light. In her eyes..it just disappeared."

He laughed.

"I-it was like one moment she was here and the next she's just dead."

Namgyu looked at his now blood-covered knife

You wiped the blood off the base of your knife so it wouldn't slip out of your hands.

"Player 232 eliminated, player 124, player 121 pass."

You silently celebrate.

You both sat there beside the now-dead body for a second before Namgyu interrupted the silence. He was now grabbing for another pill in his cross.

"Y'know before Thanos died. That bastard couldn't ever get my name right. It was always 'hey Namsu' It's Namgyu. 'Namsu come here.' Its Namgyu, Namgyu, Namgyu, Namgyu!"

His grip tightened on his knife.

"Damn.."

"At least he left me this."

He shook the necklace around his neck.

"Wait." You paused.

"What?"

You grabbed the necklace around the girl's neck and aggressively pulled it until the back broke. You held the key in your hand.

"What's that for?"

He asks.

"We better."

"Now we can open doors." You stood up.

"Shit Y/N so smart."

He stands up behind you and wraps his arms around you.

You jump and grab his arm moving it off of you.

A piece of blue fabric ran passed you.

Namgyu looked at you eyes wide before grabbing your hand and running for the hider.

You're both running behind the blue-vested man and you kick the back of his knee. He falls to the ground and Namgyu stabs his back repeatedly.

He wipes the sweat from his forehead replacing it with the blood from the man. He licks his fingers and his eyes widen.

"You gotta get some of this."

He puts his finger in your face.

"I'm good."

He shrugs placing his finger back in his mouth.

10 minutes displayed on the digital clock.

"You wanna just wait it out? We have 10 minutes left."

"Awww noo I don't want to, there's so many more people to kill."

"We already got two of them."

"The more we kill the fewer people who can make it through..that means more money for the both of us. How much is it now? Eh doesn't matter we'll split it. At least 10 billion won for each of us if we make it through this."

You bite your lip thinking.

"If we see anyone."

He jumps up excitedly.

"Yes!"

You both are walking around the maze. You walk past a hallway that has two dead people. You stop when you realize Namgyu isn't behind you. You walk back and see Namgyu in the hallway. Crouched in front of the dead bodies. One of them was Player 100.

"Aww man. I wanted to kill him." He has his knife placed on his face.

"Namgyu. They're already dead. Let's go."

"Whoever killed this guy was a lucky man."

He stands up and walks behind you.

"Don't walk off from me again."

"Yeah yeah. Are we gonna find anyone... I'm getting antsy."

He fidgeted with his hands repeatedly taking his ring on and off his finger.

Five minutes now show on the clock.

Namgyu looks at it.

"Aw man, it's gonna be over soon." He pouts.

You keep a straight face.

"I bet there will be many opportunities for you to kill people in the next rounds.."

"Heh, you're right."

He puts his arms on your shoulders as if trying to start a train. You don't even try to avoid his touch anymore.

"Y'know, you're so cute when you're covered in blood like that."

He reaches one of his hands to your face and smears the blood that resided in your face.

He couldn't tell you were blushing with the amount of blood that coated your face.

"10

9

8

7

6

5

4

3

2

1"

"Game over."

The guards guided the winning red vests to the room where all the players stayed between games.

You and Namgyu sat next to each other on his bed. He tried to reach for his necklace. But it was gone.

His face dropped.

"Did you see my necklace?!"

You shake your head.

"No dude."

"Fuck fuck fuck."

He quickly stood up and ran to the guards who were ushering people to the resting area.

"I-I think I left something of mine in there could I  go l-look for it?"

"Players aren't allowed back in the game area."

"Fuck. FUCK!" He grabbed a guard but quickly let go after they put their gun to his temple. He drops to his knees.

"Minsu?" Minsu walks out of the door.

"Minsu you didn't see my necklace in there did you?" He's now itching behind his ear as he interrogates him.

"No?"

Minsu walks off.

Namgyu runs back over to the bed.

"Those assholes won't let me go back." He bites the inside of his cheek as he picks at the skin on his fingers.

You grab his hands in yours.

"We'll find it."

(I HOPE YOU ENJOYED THIS STORY HAVE A GOOD/NIGHT)

Word count:1604

[bluerosefox]

A Fair Warning

It was only a matter of time, and a long awaited and well deserved comeuppance, when Joker tried to hurt the wrong person or people.

Not everyone was going to play his games like 'Batsy' does. Not everyone will hesitate or let him live should he put his hands on someone to hurt them. Not everyone will believe Arkham could 'fix' him, he just needed more time and help.

No.

This time Joker bit off more than he could chew when he kidnapped the newly hired Arkham psychiatrist Jasmine Fenton (and he had plans, so many plans, for her. With her mixture of Harley's mind and her looks matching Gordon's daughter would sure to cause some chaos and pain in memories) and the girl's visiting sister Danielle 'Ellie' (and did he laugh when he noticed the 'Wayne' adoptive looks the girl had, on the fun he'll have, maybe he'll beat her the way he beat the second Robin just for funzie's, it'll no doubt upset Batman) from Jasmine's apartment.

He had plans to keep the Bats guessing where he was and by the time they reach him it'll be far to late for them to save either of the two girls, he had just sent the little video he taped to the Bats and the police to get the ball rolling...

So...

So why did a shiver run down his spine for the first time in years when they both looked unafraid (it was their eyes that made him shiver, a look of already dead yet somehow alive, something he never seen before. He's seen the light fade from people's eyes before yes, he's even laughed as he watch people desperately cling onto life only for it to fade into nothing as they took a final breath but never have he seen someone, something alive yet dead at the same time before. It, their eyes, held a natural yet unnatural sense as they stared at him, stared at everything that made him Joker and it unnerved him), honestly they looked very bored, and one of them (the youngest of the two, and the one with more of the look of death than life in their eyes) said with a chill tune in their tone.

"Last chance to back out of this Freakshows Reject. You wont like what'll be waiting for you."

The tone alone was enough to send another bone deep chill down Joker's spine.

But instead of listening to his natural instincts, the deep inkling of run blaring at him, Joker merely placed a grin on his face, ignoring the strain he felt from doing so, and said as nastily as he could in order to scare the two girls (BOTH OF THEM STILL LOOKED BORED WITH HIM?!?! Not even a twitch of fear!)

"OH? And pray tell what is awaiting little ol' me hum?"

His mocking question got a wide feral grin from the smaller girl, a grin with sharp teeth and iris eyes beginning to bleed slowly from sky blue to neon green with each second he stared at her and he barely stopped himself from jumping in his spot when Jasmine answered his question.

"Your end."

-x-x-

By the time the Bats get to the warehouse Joker had taken Dr. Jasmine 'Jazz' Fenton and Danielle 'Ellie' Fenton they were prepared for anything and everything to go wrong. As much as they held the tiniest bit of hope that the two young women were still okay they knew better than to really do, this was the Joker that had them after all.

They had manged to narrow down his location much quicker than normal when they gotten Joker's first video and his little 'game' he was setting the Bats on, most locations he gave them were going to be red herrings or traps to keep them busy and it would had worked. Batman and the others would had been searching for hours for even a hint of the clue of where the Joker and his hostages were actually being kept.

It was nearly, not really, a shame all of Joker's plans went to waste when Red Hood had stumbled onto something when scooping out Jasmine's apartment with Red Robin.

You see, not only were they looking for clues at first but something about the apartment Jasmine rented seemed off, Red Robin noticed it first and called in back up encase there was more to oldest Fenton than what they could dig up (oldest daughter of Dr's. Jackson and Madeline Fenton, grew up in a small Illinois town, straight A student and a goal to become a psychologist, has two younger siblings, etc etc) and their suspension raised up more when the moment Red Hood entered the apartment and seemed to freeze for a moment.

Red Hood couldn't really explain it but he said it felt like something was... strange. Not evil bad danger strange but it felt familiar? Like he was a kid again on the streets and had walked into someone else's territory but knew the person wouldn't be too much of a hardass about it as long as he didn't stur up trouble or disrespect. A kind of... as long as you don't fuck around you won't find out feeling.

It was because of this feeling that Jason had manged to stumble across something in the room, his instincts telling him there was more to it, and they had discovered a clunky old custom PDA hidden away in a false floorboard in the office room. Thankfully Red Robin, was there in person because the old thing apparently had a rather ingenious firewall to keep others (aka Hackers) OUT but it did nothing against someone who held the main thing.

But still it took Red Robin almost frying the damn thing to get to open up, turns out the ghost and star stickers on the PDA was a rather large hint of the pass code. Once Red Robin was in the PDA he noticed some rather interesting files, one of them labeled "Gremlin Tracking" with a tiny green blob with red eyes and a green outlined star as the icons.

Curiosity taking a hold on the most curious of the Bats he opened it up, hoping it would need another password, and watched as the screen split into two maps, one was... strange, there was no land marks or anything but the star icon seemed to be right in the middle of wherever it was and the only hint of anything was the name "baby brother" and the map labeled as IR.

The other one showed an above map of Gotham, before zooming into the city, heading towards some abandoned warehouses Red Robin knew of and stopped right at one. This was the green blob icon, the short abbreviation for Gotham in the corner of the map, and the name for the icon was 'baby sister'

Red Robin immediately got onto coms to tell the others of what apparently was a tracker for Jasmine's younger siblings. Some questioned why the young woman had trackers on her siblings, though some of the others snarked back that "oh didn't know keeping trackers on each other wasn't normal. Mind if I loose the one you got on me than?"

After a quick sweep into the warehouses camera feeds, the very few up that could be accessed, done by Oracle they quickly discovered that yes the tracking on the younger girl of the two, Danielle Fenton, was correct and that was where they and Joker were at.

Despite this, Batman decided that in order to make sure Joker didn't have suspicion that they already know his actual location he made sure to send a few of the others to the fake locations.

So here they were now, staking out the warehouse where they could see a few of the Jokers goons walking around and looking for a way into the building without alerting any of them. As they talked low into coms, Robin mentioning a possible way in for Red Robin by how small it was, Red Robin hissing back a "just because you got a growth spurt doesn't mean you can poke fun at my height you little-"

"Wait!" Red Hood suddenly hissed shouted, his tone startling the rest of them and they all turned their heads to him. Batman made a quick and harsh grunt as a way to say "report."

Under his helmet Jason's eyes were wide and wild. He could feel something, something huge was on the rise, like something was out of sight but the energy of it was felt.

And if Jason could feel it from his spot, the Jokers goons all felt the same thing from the way they all dropped their weapons, turned toward the warehouse and looked ready to bolt like scared animals.

Jason opened his mouth to explain but fell silent when the feeling suddenly popped. Whatever was causing the feeling was here and like the calm before the storm he could only watch as the first drop of rain fall.

The next thing they know, was the noise and the screaming.

It was inhuman, a mixture of noise and sounds to hard to explain. The closest they could explain was a thousand voices coming in all at once mixing with radio static that kept changing volume so only few words could be even hinted at, and the angry cawing of crows along with the flapping of their wings as they took flight. The noise was so bad that many who heard it nearly ripped their coms out, or covered their ears. Thankfully it only lasted a few seconds.

Then, the air itself shifted. It felt like the coldest of winter nights and bone chilling shivers ran down their bodies for a moment. The air was suddenly that sharp cold that hurt to breathe sometimes.

The goons surrounding the warehouse fled in fear. Many scrambling to get far, far away from whatever was happening. If they felt even a fraction of what Jason could feel, he could understand. He honestly felt like a small animal cornered by a predator and there was no escape.

Then just as suddenly as it happened, everything shifted again. The noise of Gotham returned to normal, cars honking, a stray cat hissing or a dog barking, police sirens in the distance, hissing steam from a nearby factory. The air went from winter cold to a chill mid winter harbor feel now.

Once everyone registered what had just happened and not wanting to waste anymore time they bolted towards the warehouse, cautious and alert in case they needed to fight. Batman went in first, quickly making his way to the area he knew Joker would be with the Fenton sisters and wondered just what the fuck was that? Did Joker do something? Was he messing with things outside of his usual MO?!

He walked into the room and stopped.

There was nothing.

The room was in fact the room Joker had used to record his first message to them, the layout was correct and the evidence of two people who had been tied up were still there as well, ropes that weren't cut sitting on them, a lone lamp light above shining down from above no doubt to emphasize the two girls were meant to be the 'stars' of Jokers latest show. Thing was, the two weren't there despite the fact Oracle swore she could see them a few mins ago from a camera set up in the room, she would later explain that she heard the noise as well and that all her tech had glitched hard.

The only other thing in the room was, sitting innocently on one of the chairs was a green sticky note and on a tiny pillow was a tiny sickly green orb with hints of purple, white, and red swirling in it.

A note they would later read the following message written on it after carefully examining it over.

'Joker learned not to touch what is mine to protect. Sorry not sorry, but hey one less killer clown and he was warned not my fault he didn't take it seriously... The massive amount of souls wanting to rip apart the Joker's soul into nothing was quite a sight to be honest.

They were so ruthless. Best not mess with the vengeful dead am I right?

PS. I left a tiny gift for Jason Todd aka Robin Two. It's the tiniest piece of Joker's soul left over after everyone else got done. He can finish it off since he's a reverent and all, and well they need their revenge filled in order to peacefully move on later or else they'll be stuck forever in a loop of madness and revenge. So yeah. Hope he likes the gift.'

D.P.'

It took Jason less than a second after those words were spoken out to reach for the orb, ignoring the cautious and alarmed cries of the others, and could feel deep, deep, deep in his own soul the absolute pure weeping joy as he threw the orb onto the floor, the bottom shattering thus it didn't roll away and stomped hard with his reinforced boots. Crushing the broken orb into more pieces and if one listened closely they could hear the pure screaming terror that came from it.

And Jason for the first time in years felt his rage finally leave him.

[sawarusi]

nerdmin x reader (college au)

artist: musapylsa

YUP. YUH UH. 😋😋😋 sooo summary: armin and reader r studying buddies, armin's been crushing on reader since they became classmates in their college. one day, they met for a usual study sesh at armin's dorm, but oh... there's also a fire party this night... so reader takes armin there and uhhh... teehee ENJOY. btw i'm not a native eng speaker so sorry for any mistakes. mam hc że Armin jest fanem Elevena. jus saying tags: steamy, freaky loser armin, i cannot write fem x male smut for shit so it's just suggestive

it's Friday. the worst day to be studying, but here you were, at armin's dorm, studying with him for an upcoming chem test. you were both sitting at his desk, a comfortable distance between you two.

you wanted to get this over with asap, since there was a party in just an hour. you thought about cancelling this sesh, but you just couldn't do that to Armin.

thus you enetered hyper-focus mode - slouching over the worksheet, mouthing chem formulas while scribbling notes, teeth sinking into the end of your pen. the same pen he’d lent you two months ago, which you never gave back. he'd like to get it back, to chew on it himself, maybe do something... more.

to Armin, this sight next to him was the hottest thing he's ever seen. and so he just stared, unconsciously. he didn’t mean to stare at your mouth so much. he wished that pen was something else.

he was too occupied with his thoughts that he didn't notice you switching your gaze from your notes to him.

“earth to Armin.” you said, hoping to break him free from his trance.

he flinched, shook his head to regain his cool and blinked fast. “y-yeah?”

"you okay?" you snickered at his physical response. "thought I lost you for a second"

“oh. yeah. sorry. I was just…” he gestured vaguely at your shared chemistry worksheet. “…thinking about...this exothermic reaction”

you snickered and rolled your eyes "sure you did"

but little did you know that in theory he was thinking about it. you made him feel way too hot inside. you are the sole substratum that in combination with your pose, your focused form, makes him horny in as the product. he hated this synthesis. (where my chem enthusiasts at 😝)

also, did you know he has rules? well, he has rules. Armin Arlert Rules of Crushing on Someone Way Out of Your League. rule one: never act weird. rule two: don’t ruin the study sessions. rule three: don’t imagine them moaning your name when they lean over the desk and their shirt rides up a little.

he was failing rule three constantly.

“hey.” you nudged his ankle under the table. “you’re off again.”

“s-sorry.” he shoved his glasses up his nose and glanced away, cheeks flushing.

that’s when you stood up and stretched - and the hem of your shirt did ride up, and Armin nearly bit through his own pencil.

“you need a break” you said while looking down at him. oh lord.

he opened his mouth to argue. failed. closed it again.

“there’s a party tonight. off-campus. Jean’s place. come with me.”

his brain literally crashed. “i-what? no, no, i don’t… i can’t.” he waved a hand and chuckled nervously. “that’s not really my thing.” he rubbed the back of his neck, looking back at his notebook at his desk.

“you’ve been studying every night this week. you need to touch grass and talk to someone who isn't me, Arlert.” you leaned on his desk. "it'll be fun!"

“i touched grass yesterday.”

you leveled him with a 'seriously?' look.

“c’mon.” you smiled, and it hurt. that smile did things to him. twisted his stomach into knots and made his palms sweaty and his brain forget how words worked. “just for a little while.”

he should have said no. he wanted to. but then you said his name again, soft and warm like it meant something, and Armin -

Armin cracked. hard.

"alright.."

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

he regretted it the moment you got to the party.

Jean’s place is chaos. bodies pressed shoulder-to-shoulder, music vibrating through the floorboards, lights pulsing like the whole house is on the edge of combustion. it smells like cheap beer, cologne, and heat.

he's two steps behind you, heart pounding as you cut through the crowd like you own it. you're glowing under the purple light - smiling, laughing, hips swaying as the bass hums through your spine. you belong here.

he doesn't.

Armin had never been more aware of how he didn’t belong. he was in a green shirt worn over a black sweatshirt and jeans. everyone else looked like they came to the met gala.

you glance back at him, still leading him further. "you good?"

he nods, too fast. "yup. great. i love... loud... rooms full of strangers."

you snort "you'll survive. stick with me."

and God, that’s the problem. he wants to stick with you. to grab your hand and not let go. to pull you against him and bury his face in your neck and stay there forever. but that’s not how this works. you’re his friend. his study partner. he’s your dorky academic sidekick who gets a little too flustered when you wear shorts.

your hand grazes his lower back as you pass him a drink, and Armin almost drops it.

you don’t seem to notice. or maybe you do. that’s the thing - he can’t tell. not when you look at him like that. not when you smile at him like he’s anything more than a nervous mess in a goofy (´•_•`) shirt.

but then - you lean in - “relax,” you murmur against his ear. “i’ve got you.”

his brain blue-screens. He barely hears the music anymore. all he can focus on is the warmth of your breath, the closeness, the scent of your shampoo. his fingers twitch around his cup.

he hovered close to you, sipping from the drink you handed him and pretending he wasn’t absolutely vibrating with nerves.

you leaned close to say something. he didn’t hear it - his brain short-circuited at the feel of your breath on his neck. he felt every hair on his body rising.

“what?” he asked confused.

“i said,” you repeated, grinning, “you look really good tonight.”

Armin glitched. you, complimenting him?? he had to pase for a while to completely process what you just said “i-me? i look like i just got back from working a shift at a library.” he was worried that this compliment may not be sincere due to the few drinks you've already had.

"oh, you know i love libraries."

he didn’t know what to do with that. he just laughed awkwardly, heart racing, and looked anywhere but at you. he was absolutely malfunctioning at this point.

and as the night bled on, something shifted.

you danced a little, laughed. you kept touching his arm, his shoulder, his hand - and Armin, for all his social anxiety and fear of misreading signals, started to feel it. the tension, and the possibility.

when you pulled him toward the dance floor, he didn’t resist. it did help that not many people were dancing there, as most were already passed out or just in their own worlds. so it felt more intimate for you two.

he hesitates, unsure of himself, hovering awkwardly behind you - but you just grab his wrists and place his hands on your hips.

“there,” you say, looking over your shoulder to smile at him. “that wasn’t so hard, was it?”

Armin is fairly certain his soul just left his body.

you move with the beat - slow, steady, unapologetically close. he mirrors you awkwardly at first, cheeks hot, hands trembling where they rest on your waist.

but then you lean back - your back presses to his chest. your head tips onto his shoulder. your fingers find his.

this is dangerous. this is everything he’s wanted. and you have no idea. no idea how many nights he’s lain awake imagining you like this, warm and close and letting him touch. no idea how often he’s had to reread the same sentence in a textbook because your leg brushed his under the desk. no idea how much he wants you.

you sway your hips - grind back, just barely. his breath catches.

“still nervous?” you ask over your shoulder.

he forces a chuckle. “always.” his voice shakily.

“what would ease your nerves, professor?” oh lord.

he hesitates. face as red as a tomato. then - God help him, he's about to pass out - he leans down, lips brushing the shell of your ear.

he clears his throat “there’s this article I read once,” he murmurs, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible. “about how close dancing like this increases dopamine release. makes people associate physical pleasure with whoever’s nearest.” his breath is ragged.

“i didn’t just read it,” he adds. “i annotated it.”

you turn slowly to face him. “you're such a nerd, Armin." and then it hit you. "YOU ANNOTATED A SMUT ARTICLE?" you couldn't help but laugh a little.

his eyes meet yours, dark behind his glasses. “it was well-researched .”

you couldn't help but scoff a little. you then did a 180 so that you could properly face him. his eyes meet yours, dark behind his glasses. there’s a shift - the air changes. you look at him like you’re seeing him for the first time.

his hand is still on your waist. your fingers brush his chest. your face is so, so close, and you don’t pull away. neither does he.

your bodies are still pressed close, music thumping through your bones. Armin’s hand tightens at your waist like he’s scared to let go.

you shift your hips just slightly - barely a grind - and feel it.

oh.

you look up at him - his lips parted, pupils blown wide behind foggy glasses. his face and ears were red, like, burgundy red. but what was lower to your vision was the true elephant in the room.

how that bulge was swelling more and more.

oh.

[sugardollcurse]

I love ur writing so badly it’s amazing!!! Thought of this slightly silly idea that’d be maybe faintly angsty?? With Paul and a reader, where they were together when they were in their teens to their early 20s and broke up just in the early 60s. Only for the reader to also start their own musical career and completely blow up by the end of the 60s just as the Beatles were slowly breaking up 🧐 not a great idea so switching it around a little would be cool too!!

𝑠𝑒𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑑 𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑠𝑒 | paul mccartney x fem!reader

𐙚 summary ; you and paul were each other’s first everything. but time and ambition drove you apart. now it’s 1969, the beatles are cracking at the seams, and you’re topping charts with songs that sound an awful lot like him.

𐙚 note ; this is SUCH a good idea ♡ teen love turned bittersweet stardom??? def gonna have fun cooking this one up ... thank u sm bb!!

“D’you know they’re here?”

Paul doesn’t look up from tuning his bass. Just keeps his eyes on the fretboard like if he stares hard enough, it'll turn to stone and smash in his hands. His fingers move too fast, sliding, twisting, retuning, again and again.

George nudges him with a pointed look. “You do know, don’t you?”

“Course I bloody do,” Paul mutters.

The string whines. Not right. Too high. He adjusts the peg, tightens, listens. It’s still off. Sounds like nerves. Sounds like they’d sound if they were on a stage under bad lights with worse feelings.

John strolls past, casual and cruel in that way only he can be, his footsteps unhurried, chewing gum like he’s in on a joke no one else got invited to.

“Saw ‘em in the hallway,” he sing-songs. “Didn’t say hello. Didn’t need to. Gave me a look like they were about to deck me. So naturally I said ‘hallo’ just to make it worse.”

Paul glares up at him, hands still. “Very helpful, ta.”

John just smirks, shrugs, and wanders off, humming something sharp and spiteful under his breath.

George raises his eyebrows. Doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t need to.

Ringo’s the one who asks, “You alright?”

Paul shrugs. He’s not. But there’s no point saying that.

It’s been years.

Years, and yet, he’d known the second they stepped into the building. Not by the creak of the studio doors, or the hushed laughter down the corridor, or even the way the air shifted around John like it always did when there was gossip on the wind. He’d felt it in the guts. Like a bass note too low to hear, just felt in the spine.

He’d caught a glimpse. Corner of his eye. Didn’t mean to look. Didn’t mean to look like that... all frozen and stupid and sixteen again, heart in his throat. Just a flash. Just enough to make his hands sweat and his head throb and his mouth go dry like he’d been dropped right back into the middle of it.

He drops his eyes back to the strings. Plucks again. Still not right.

Your voice had that thing. That inflection, that fucking curl to the ends of words that made it impossible not to remember how you used to say his name. How you'd say it like it cost them something, and gave something back.

“Right,” Paul mutters, almost to himself. “Let’s get on with it.”

━━

You’d never made a scene.

No thrown glasses, no screaming, no door slammed off its hinges. Just a quiet break-up in a cramped flat that had once felt like a secret shared, now echoing with too much space. The early morning light made everything look grey and unfinished, like someone had paused the world mid-sentence.

"I won’t sit around waiting for you to make room for me.”

Not cold. Not cruel. Just tired.

And Paul, he’d opened his mouth to argue, words half-formed on the back of his tongue, pride rising like bile, but the truth was, he had nothing left to give you but the same excuses in different keys. The band was taking off. The days were all sessions and static. He was always five places at once and never home.

You didn’t cry.

You just packed a duffel bag with two jumpers, your old notebooks, the record player he never learned to use, and left a half-used jar of marmalade in the fridge like an afterthought.

You slipped out of his life the same way you’d entered it: while music played from a crackling radio and the kettle never quite boiled. He still remembered the song that played as you walked out the door. Something soft and echoing and too on the nose.

Then you went west.

Not just out of town, west. Across oceans, across whole versions of yourself he’d never get to meet. You lived on couches. Fell in with some label bloke in Laurel Canyon. You wrote a debut record that was half acid, half open wound. A voice like honey poured over broken glass. The kind of record people bought on vinyl and listened to barefoot in dark bedrooms.

The first time Paul heard your voice again, it was on the radio in a car park. Rain smearing the windshield, a bag of chips going cold in the passenger seat. The DJ didn’t say your name till the end. But Paul knew. Christ, he knew by the third chord.

He didn’t turn the engine off.

Didn’t even breathe properly.

Just stayed in the car till the song ended, hands on the steering wheel like a prayer.

━━

“Paul.”

The voice behind him is steady. Calm. Familiar in a way that makes the hairs on his neck stand up before he even turns around.

He turns slowly.

You’re standing just inside the green room doorway, wrapped in some enormous coat, collar turned up against a draft that’s not really there. A glass of something cold in your hand, water or maybe gin, and a ring on the finger he used to kiss before every gig. Not a wedding ring, he clocked that detail immediately, filed it away somewhere between relief and disappointment.

He clears his throat.

"Y/n."

You nod. Your expression’s unreadable, but your shoulders don’t tense. That’s something.

“Didn’t think you’d still be here.”

Paul smirks, faint and brittle. “Didn’t think you’d show up.”

You tilt your head. “It’s my label’s event. And I’m nominated, remember?”

“I remember.”

He remembers too well. Every word of the song that got you nominated. Especially the chorus. Especially that one line, sharp, deliberate, cloaked in poetry but unmistakable in its aim. It had your fingerprints and his name all over it.

It’d played in his flat once, off a cassette someone passed him backstage. Some girl was over, he barely recalls her face now, just that her laugh was too loud and she smelled like wine. When your voice came on, he’d gone quiet. She noticed. Didn’t ask.

Now you’re in front of him again.

A little older. A little shinier. A little sadder around the eyes.

He hates how good you look.

“How’s it feel?” he asks. “Being the most famous person in the room?”

You snort. “Don’t start. You’re still you, aren’t you?”

He shrugs. “I’m not sure who that is anymore.”

The words slip out before he can filter them, and they hang between you, heavier than he meant.

You raise your eyebrows.

Paul fumbles to recover, gestures vaguely toward the floor. “I mean, it’s all... different now.”

“You mean it’s ending.”

There’s no accusation in your voice. Just a flat, observational kind of truth. It lands like a bruise anyway.

He doesn’t answer.

Instead, he deflects. Always does.

“You come to gloat?”

You blink. “No.”

"Could’ve fooled me." he was referring a song you wrote, one that he thought was definitely about him. It wasn't.

You stare at him. The silence that follows is long enough to make him wonder if you’re going to walk away. Then, slowly, you smile, but it’s not kind. It’s sharp at the edges. Like it was forged in self-defense.

“You think everything’s about you.”

He flinches. Only slightly, but you see it.

“Well,” he asks, quiet and raw, “was it?”

You don’t answer right away. You just take a long sip from your glass, eyes never leaving his face.

“If it was,” you say finally, “you probably deserved it.”

He watches you like he’s trying to memorize you all over again. The lines of your mouth. The slight shift in your weight. The way you don’t back down from his gaze. Everything unsaid rises up between you like smoke, curling into the corners of the room.

After a beat, he speaks again, voice lower.

“Do you still write in the bath?” he asks quietly.

You blink, caught off guard.

“Sometimes.”

“Still hum to yourself before you land on a melody?”

“Not if I’m around anyone,” you reply.

He huffs a quiet breath, half a laugh. “That’s a shame. I always liked that.”

It softens something. Not enough to be safe, but enough to hurt.

There’s a pause, long and loaded.

“I heard your demo last month,” you say, eyes flicking toward the floor.

He perks up. “Did you?”

“I liked it.”

He wets his lips. “Didn’t think you were listening.”

You glance at him then, direct.

“I always listen.”

That does something to him. Something internal and sharp. Like a drawer being yanked open after years nailed shut.

He takes a step forward. Not enough to reach you. Just enough to make it clear he wants to.

“You broke my heart,” he says quietly. “Back then.”

“What? You broke mine,” you shoot back. “And then sold records with it.”

It’s not bitter. Not cruel. Just a fact. But it slices deeper than if you’d screamed.

You’re both breathing heavier now.

It’s not a fight. Not really.

It’s something slower, older. A wound opening on both sides at the same time, in perfect symmetry.

“Did you ever miss it?” he asks, softer this time. Almost reverent.

Your fingers tighten on the stem of your glass. Not visibly. Just enough that he knows you’re feeling it too.

“Maybe.”

He nods, looks down. His throat works. You can tell he’s biting back words.

“I thought I was doing the right thing,” he says.

You nod. “You always do.”

Paul sighs. Drags a hand through his hair, a gesture that always meant he was about to say something he didn’t want to.

“I wanted to write to you,” he admits. “After Pepper. After India. After... everything.”

“Why didn’t you?”

He looks at you, eyes unreadable. Then: “I was afraid you’d write back in a song.”

You laugh. It comes out more like an exhale, bitter and fond and exhausted.

You lean in just a little. Just enough to make his breath catch.

“Well, Macca,” you whisper, “I probably still will.”

And then you leave.

Just like that.

But Paul doesn’t call after you. Doesn’t move.

He just watches you go, eyes fixed on the place your body filled only seconds before. And that night, alone in his flat, he dreams the melody to something new.

It sounds like a letter he never sent.

It sounds like you.

taglist: @sharksausages, @wavvytin, @wimpyvamps, @finallyforgotten, @lennongirlieee, @silly-lil-lee, @alanangels

[samuelsdean]

Take A Bite

pairing: dean winchester x reader

summary: the hunt loomed, a constant shadow. but for now, in the warmth of the diner, you had this – a shared meal, a stolen bite, a silent promise spoken in the language only the two of you understood. maybe that was enough, for now.

genre: fluff

word count: 0.6k

author's notes: my first ever dean winchester fic! and of course, it's fluff. this one's extra fluffy and tooth-rotting because he deserves all the love and pie in the world. have fun reading this one!

GREASY SPOON DINERS WERE PRACTICALLY A SECOND HOME TO YOU AND DEAN. After weeks on the road, chasing whatever monster plagued this random unsuspecting town, a decent burger and stale black coffee felt like a five-star feast. You slid into the red vinyl booth across from Dean, the air thick with the aroma of frying onions and something vaguely resembling a pie. Dean's favorite

"Double cheeseburger, fries extra crispy, milkshake," Dean said to the waitress, a practiced routine etched into the lines on his face. "And your apple pie, make that two slices."

You chuckled at Dean's predictability. One thing about the hunter is that he'll never miss out on ordering pie if it is ever on the menu. You mirrored his order, minus the pie and milkshake, opting for a Coke instead, as a comfortable silence settled between you.

"You know, Dean, it'll never hurt you to cut back on the sugar and fat," you poked at the man's elbow. "You're what? 30 years old? You could die from all the cholesterol you ingest."

Dean shoved another greasy fry into his mouth, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Woman," he mumbled around the food, "first of all, I'm twenty-five, almost twenty-six now. Second, cholesterol never killed any Winchester. Besides, haven't you seen Buffy the Vampire Slayer? The girl practically lives on coffee and Pop-Tarts, and she still kicks major demon butt. The point is, you gotta live a little. Besides, pie's calling my name." He jerked his head and smirked towards the display case where a monstrous slice of apple pie sat, practically begging to be devoured.

It wasn't always like this, these quiet moments punctuated by the clinking of silverware. There were times, hunts gone sideways, when the air crackled with tension, unspoken words hanging heavy. But there was also a language you'd developed, a shorthand built on shared experiences and unspoken affection.

The waitress slid your plates across the chipped Formica counter. As you reached for your burger, Dean's hand shot out, snagging a fry. He popped it into his mouth with a wink.

"Always gotta have the first bite," he said around a mouthful of crispy oily goodness—as how Dean would describe the meal.

You rolled your eyes, a familiar warmth blooming in your chest. It was a small thing, this ritual of offering the first or last bite. It started years ago, on a particularly brutal hunt that left you both famished and frayed. Dean had insisted you take the last sliver of pie, a silent promise that he'd take care of you, even in the smallest ways.

You speared a fry and held it out to him. "Only because you saved me from the mystery meat surprise last week."

He chuckled, taking the fry and returning the favor by breaking off a piece of his pie before taking a bite. The practice continued throughout the meal, a silent banter intertwined with the rhythm of chewing and swallowing. It's like second nature between you two.

"So," Dean said, finally wiping his grease-stained fingers on a napkin, "what kind of son of a bitch are we whacking this time?"

You launched into the details the local college professor had shared, a tremor of interest lacing your voice. As you spoke, Dean listened intently, smiling now and then with how nerdy you sounded. He liked it when you go off on your tangents about whatever monster it was you were about to hunt. While doing so, Dean occasionally reached across the table to steal a fry or offer a piece of his pie. It wasn't a grand gesture, this sharing of food, but in the quiet hum of the diner, it felt like everything.

The hunt loomed, a constant shadow. But for now, in the warmth of the diner, you had this – a shared meal, a stolen bite, a silent promise spoken in the language only the two of you understood. Maybe that was enough, for now.

[buckysgrace]

Hi I was wondering if you could do Dad! Steve Harrington x reader where they're enjoying being parents to their baby girl and it's domestic bliss (and one point they try to give their baby a slice of lemon to try and her reaction is funny and she tries reaching for it again and tries eating it again and kind of likes it but then makes a face again which makes reader and Steve laugh, also tummy time with their baby) and it's just adorable 🩷

"Eloise," You cooed gently, trying to get the bow to stay on her head, "Oh c'mon, you look so cute with it on!" You told her eagerly, only to have the six-month-old shake her head furiously.

"Aren't you a cutie?" Steve's voice rang from behind you, his hands falling to your hips a second later. He leaned over your shoulder, pink lips pulled into a bright smile as he looked at her, "Green suits you." He promised, eyes sparkling as he placed a little kiss against your temple.

Eloise still protested, whining and wiggling her hands against her hair until she successfully knocked the bow off of her head. You shook your head, doing your best to adjust her messy hair. Her texture matched yours, but her strands were as thick as Steve's.

"That's no fun," He laughed as he picked it up, placing it on the counter with the other discarded materials. You made a mental note on how you needed to clean soon, but you could worry about that later, "Do you want a lemon?"

"A lemon?" You questioned, dabbing a napkin against the corner of Eloise's cheeks to wipe the drool away. He nodded his head, his hair wind swept from the walk the three of you had gone on earlier, "Why a lemon?" You questioned, looking at the way he balanced three between his fingers.

"I bought to many," He explained, giving his shoulders a little shrug, "You know, for the lemon bars I made."

"Right," You nodded your head in agreement, smiling gently, "Maybe a slice or two for my water."

"What about you?" He smiled as he approached, watching as Eloise stuck her chubby fingers out towards him, "It'll be sour." He warned, like she could understand.

She paid no mind as she opened her mouth, eyes flashing with interest as he delicately placed the lemon against her lips. She gripped his hand aggressively, squeezing as she forced more of the fruit into her mouth.

Your lips curled into a smile at the way she pulled away, drool falling onto her little shirt as her face squinted up into disgust. A sour expression formed on her features; eyebrows raised to her forehead.

"I don't think she liked it," You laughed as you brushed your thumb across her bottom lip to catch her spit, "Was that yucky?" You asked, giving her a little bounce as she squeaked in protest.

"Must've been," He laughed as he grabbed another slice, pressing it in between his teeth before he bit down on it. You winced at the sight, wondering how he survived the sour taste, "I like them." He shrugged as he pulled it away, showing where he had sucked it dry.

Eloise squeaked as she reached forward, bouncing in your arms as she tried to grab the lemon rind. He raised his eyebrows, looking at her curiously.

"Yeah?" He grinned as he picked up a new slice, holding it up to her eyes playfully, "Are you sure?" He questioned, receiving a little squeal in response. He debated it for a second, dragging his eyes towards you as you shrugged your shoulders in response. You didn't think it was bad, as long as she didn't try and chew on the rind.

He held it up to her again, letting her take another tentative bite out of it. Her whole body shook this time, her lips pressing into a from as she roughly shook her head. You both laughed this time.

Only as soon as she was done shaking her head she leaned forward again, cooing as she parted her lips and waited expectantly. Steve crinkled his eyebrows together, meeting your eyes once again.

"I think there's something wrong with her." He teased, raising his pitch to get a loud laugh from her. She kicked her feet, enthused with the way he spoke. She always thought it was funny.

"She has your taste buds," You replied dryly, laughing at the way she squealed even louder, "One more bite." You told her seriously, unsure if it would hurt her tummy or not.

Steve held it up to her again, letting her bite down on it fully this time. She crinkled her eyebrows, wrinkled up her nose as she gnawed on the fleshy part of the lemon as hard as she could.

She smacked her lips together with she was done, still bearing the sour expression but looking pleased with her large bite. She giggled, following along as Steve clapped his hands together.

"Do you want anything else in here?" He asked as you as you carried Eloise back into the living room as she continued to wiggle about in your arms. You laid her down gently, watching as she tried to pull her feet up to her mouth.

"No," You turned back to look at him, watching as he carried both of the glasses of water into the living room, "That's fine with me. Thank you." You nodded your head as you accepted the glass, eyeballing the five pieces of lemon that were jammed into your cup. He was sweet.

He stretched out on the floor, resting on his stomach in front of the little blanket. His blue sweater pulled up over his hips and lower back as he scooted Eloise towards him, rolling her onto her soft tummy.

She wrinkled her nose up in protest, drool falling from her lips as she held her little head up. You grinned as you joined them on the ground, crossing your legs as your eyes lingered again Steve's exposed skin. He was still slightly paler from the winter months.

"No, no wait," He tried again, moving her onto her stomach again before she rolled onto her back, "This is good for you. Keeps your head in shape." He grinned as he drifted his fingers across her chubby cheeks, earning a little huff from her.

"She's got your attitude," You teased, tilted your head as she wiggled forward a bit, trying to grip the rattle toy from his hands, "And your taste buds."

"Don't listen to her," Steve responded as he shook the rattle, making your daughter's eyes dart back towards him, "She doesn't know what she's talking about. We're completely normal." He added, scooting forward a little bit to bump his nose against hers.

"Da!" She shrieked out, showing off her gums as she smiled at him. She leaned forward again, almost toppling headfirst in an attempt to put the rattle in her mouth. He moved quickly to straighten her up, then placed the toy between her fingers.

"See," He grinned as he turned towards you, "Da, as in me. Because I don't tease her like you do." He did his best to lean forward and brush his cheek against hers, only to nearly get smacked in the head with the rattle.

"You mock her with the Muppet voice all the time." You laughed as you threw a new diaper towards him, watching as it bounced off the top of his head.

"Hey, she loves my Muppet voice," He shook his head, tilting his head away as she tried to lean forward and grip his hair, "It's hilarious." He added in a matter-of-fact way, shooting you a wink.

[leashybebes]

🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈

tommy must live in a perpetual state of confusion over buck

do you think the longer buck allies the more tommy realises that "oh, he really is like this but he's definitely some flavor of queer"? because i see tommy maybe gently testing buck's jealousy to see what it'll take to make him break

oooookay once again this is not a snippet (sorryyyyy) but is more me attempting to understand wtf is going on in tommy's head throughout all this that he keeps "sure, okay"-ing himself into ridiculous situations with buck, so apologies for just unloading the contents of my brain on you

there are a few things i've been chewing on in terms of figuring out how tommy reacts to the buck of it all, which i hope will make it make sense that i actually don't think tommy pushing or testing for jealousy is on the cards in this fic (although i do love the idea!)

so first of all, this is a younger tommy than we've seen interact with buck in canon (of course), so whatever happened to make him Like That in the breakup hasn't happened yet (and won't, because i am a slut for a HEA). he's newly out and in my experience, a lot of newly out people, particularly people who are a bit older have something of a second adolescence. so yeah while this means he's incredibly horny (horny enough to let a self-proclaimed straight guy give him the absolute best sex of his life) it also means he just wants to have fun!! and buck is SO. MUCH. FUN. he's spent so long so tightly controlled that he's trying really hard to just go with the flow.

second, when i say newly out tommy, i mean newly out. like, it's one thing to "stop lying about who i am" - to me, there's a non-zero chance that just means "stop making up girlfriends" rather than "actually grapple with the life-long process of coming out (again and again and again)". so in my head (and it might come up in the fic, idk yet) the scene early on where he tells buck he doesn't want the cute girl's number because he's gay is probably one of the first times he actually said the words out loud. which ties into...

third, we know tommy was work friends with sal (at least and again, don't know that it'll come up in the fic but for the record, he 100% had a monstrous crush on him, like it made him ILL how much he wanted sal, i will hear no arguments), and that he developed good - again, work-based - friendships with hen and chim, but i feel like for a deeply closeted guy under dadt with a shitty childhood buck might be his first actual friend who knows all of him and likes him. spends time with him. doesn't care that he's gay. actively supports his gayness. doesn't recoil and in fact actively encourages tommy to talk about it. so i think tommy is just...deeply, deeply grateful for this confusing train wreck of a man

fourth, while i think there are definitely times that tommy thinks "he...he's flirting with me, right? is something gonna happen here?" this is a guy who has spent his entire adult life not looking at that kinda thing. not letting himself wonder if a guy (particularly a friend) is into him. or really, even if he's into them. he's really, really good at compartmentalising, and buck's pretty insistent that he's straight, so tommy's taking that at face value. hey, buck makes compelling arguments ("tommy, straight men have prostates too!")

aaaaand there we have the contents of my brain as it relates to one tommy kinard. even in my own incredibly stupid AUs, i am frankly obsessed. i want to gnaw on him. i'll settle for having buck do it instead.

[thecapricunt1616]

Pink Pony Club (Richie Jerimovich one-shot)

♡ One-Shot Inspo: Pink Pony Club by Chappell Roan "I'm up, and jaws are on the floor. Lovers in the bathroom and a line outside the door. Blacklights, and a mirrored disco ball Every night's another reason why I left it all" ♡ Summary: You're an Exotic Dancer / part time house mom at The Pink Pony, and end up falling for a man that is probably old enough to be your father. ♡ W/C: 2.9k ♡ Poste Date: 06/10/2024 ♡ A/N: Hello all! again, for the asks that are atp starting to mold in my inbox - imma get to you. This specific dirty old man in a suit has been making me feel things lately, so naturally I had to write some porn about it. Asks are still open even though I cant promise it'll be done snappy. Hope everyones week is off to a great start so far!! Tagged those who commented on the post saying this would be a good idea just so you could see how it came out, hope you like :) ♡ Warnings for BTC: Age gap relationships (R is in her mid-to-late 20's, mentions of sex work, Club environments, swearing, smut, rough sex (Richie likes to be slapped around sometimes, kay?) lowkey simp!Richie, no use of Y/N - pet names only, readers stage name is Pixie Polestar , unprotected sex, not edited, we die like men!

♡ 𝐌𝐲 𝐋𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐬 ♡ ➵ 𝐂𝐡𝐞𝐜𝐤 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐦𝐲 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭 ♡ ➵ 𝐂𝐚𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐂𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐲 𝐨𝐧𝐞-𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐭 𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐩𝐚𝐠𝐞 ♡ ➵ 𝘊𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘬 𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘳𝘦𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 / 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘵 ♡ ➵ 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐬 ♡

You had met Richie just about 2 months ago. It was safe to say, life had chewed him up and spit him out lately. 

If he was being honest with himself, the dating pool wasn’t exactly rich at 46 years old. He could count on almost two hands how long it had been since he got his dick up for more than just the binightly pornhub browser. 

That led him into the Pink Pony Club one fateful August night. You were working your usual shift, Pixie Polestar. You - unlike some of the other girls - really enjoyed your job. At least, the aspect of having fun on stage, doing cute, sexy little acrobat-like tricks on the pole while horny men paid you to take more of your clothes off?

Yes please. 

You weren’t a back room kind of girl, usually. That was because the amount of money you made from tricks on the pole was more than a lot of the girls you worked with made in a whole shift while you just worked the 45 minute trick-filled stage set then would give a few $400 lap dances depending on your mood, before skipping on home, taking a hot shower, and slipping in your silk sheets with your air conditioner turning your bedroom something akin to an ice box. 

That was how that night was supposed to go. 

How the night really went, was some loud borderline obnoxious man at least 15 years your senior, had found his way into the Pink Pony. He was wearing a pressed navy blue suit, that complimented his pretty blue eyes. That was the second thing you noticed about him while he loudly whistled for Krystal who was currently doing her set. 

You weren’t really supposed to be here anymore - well- you didn’t have to be here. You had found yourself a solution, a real career path if you will. But you enjoyed your time on the pole because it was art, and dancing was a confidence booster for you. In any regard, you were going to get older, you were going to pass your prime as the house mom was always telling you girls, so you needed another stream of income. 

Of course, being a … *eh-hem* - exotic dancer was the word you preferred, stripper just sounded trashy to you, did come with its negative stereotypes, one of which being no where will rent to you - because you had terrible credit. So, naturally, being the resourceful woman you are - you walked your happy ass to the open house of a for sale by owner showing, and told the nice realtor you’d take it. 

Boom. Done, you had a place to live in 3 weeks, when you closed on it. Then, it dawned on you. The other girls you worked with had the same issue you did. So, you found another house, saved another 25k for the amount to put down, and rented it to your coworkers. 

It was the perfect system, because you knew you’d get your rent. You knew exactly how much money each girl made because you watched them make it, you knew where they lived, and they had to look you in the eye every night. So it’s easy to say no one ever tried you. The only real reason you hung around The Pink Pony anymore was because you wanted to keep an eye on your girls and dancing was fun too. 

When he first laid eyes on you, it was something akin to a cartoon character when their pupils turn into hearts. It wasn’t too abnormal, you were one of the more bombshell-esc dancers at the club, and that isn’t to say that you outdid anyone it was all based on preference. Some men loved plain Jane’s, and the plain Jane’s were just as beautiful as any of the other girls, but the reaction of men basically tripping over their feet to try and come talk to you was more likely going to happen to you then anyone else.  

But he…didn’t come over, that was interesting to you. So, you being the master of customer service you were, took your drink and kept your eyes locked on his as you made your way across the room, and plopped right in his lap. “Never seen you here before sweetheart” your manicured hand found the back of his neck, gently caressing over his skin. 

He tried to play it cool, but your tits we’re basically in his face, he could smell your perfume perfectly, fuck he genuinely can’t believe that a girl so beautiful just sauntered over and sat in his fucking lap. Was he dreaming? He found his mind racing, and for once in his 46 years he was dumbfounded and couldn’t find anything to say. 

“Cat got your tongue honey?” You smirked a bit, gently cupping his stubbly cheek and rubbing your thumb over his bottom lip, pulling it gently before letting it snap back into place. He swallowed thickly, his hand resting on your bare thigh, just below the white glittery mesh coverup you were wearing. 

“I’m Richie.” He blurted out, his cheeks felt like they were on fucking fire, any blood that wasn’t rushing there was rushing to his cock and he found himself wondering when the last time he’d gotten hard so easy was. 

“Well hello Richie. I’m Pixie, what brings a handsome man like you in on a Friday night mm, no big plans?” You absentmindedly played with his chain, pretending to pay no mind to the long length that was hardening in the curve of your ass. All you would have to do is shuffle just a tiny bit and his cock would be nestled between your cheeks and the itty bitty powder pink g string that you wore beneath the tiny mesh piece of fabric that was basically for show and no use to cover anything. 

“I guess I was lookin’ f’some entertainment. Think I found it” he spread his legs more, causing you to sink further into his lap and his hand found the curve of your waist, his thumb rubbing little up and down strokes over the smooth skin. He never believed that the sheer triple x rated porn movie he was creating in his mind would become a reality that night but man did it. 

It was also his first night taking the dreaded viagra prescription his doctor had given him when he got real about his … shortcomings as of late. The man isn’t what he used to be stamina wise, okay? Nonetheless - he still rocked your shit - well, more like you rocked his. 

Who knew this foul mouthed, old school, borderline toxic masculinity-entrenched motherfucker would get so much pleasure from your palm coming across his cheek just hard enough it left a yummy sting and telling him “My eyes are up here you old pervert” as you bounced on his cock with a rhythm he couldn’t bring to the table himself anymore, and that in turn causing your tits to bounce like a fucking hentai film less then a foot from his face. 

Something about a younger girl calling him old and smacking him around all while using his cock to get herself off, babbling about how good he makes her feel made him more confident then he had been in years.

He often would find himself feeling a little pang of sadness after you started seeing eachother, in moments where you two were laughing a way he only ever did with Mikey before you came around, and making him feel like he was in fuckin’ High school again with how giddy he was to see you after every shift. All of it would just remind him how bad he wishes you could have met Mikey, and how bad he wishes he could tell Mikey. 

Richie knows, he would be so jealous, but in a brotherly way - that such a young hot piece of ass, a young smart, hot, funny, piece of ass was calling him daddy, told him he was ‘her mans’ whatever the fuck that meant. He assumed girls today call their boyfriends that, there were a lot of little phrases and lingo you had to explain to him and would always make fun of him for being old after doing so. 

He would tease you too, having some late 80s early 90’s radio station on (because the old head didn’t understand what streaming was) while he drove you around of course since he had learned from you that you were his ‘passenger princess’ and saying something like ‘oh babygirl this is before your time, this is from my day” before cranking up the radio and serenading you with Bad Girl by Madonna, belting it in such a silly, dramatic way between drags of his cigarette you couldn’t help but burst into giggles and kiss him at the next red. 

You had told him that when you used to do private dances that Like a Virgin was one of your favorite to dance to for the ‘older’ gentleman, he spanked you playfully when you said his crowd was older as he usually did, and of course later that night he had you perform for him and you ended up getting your back blown out to material girl since you had been streaming the song from your phone and didn’t care to find it and turn it off. 

When Tina had played it jokingly at family dinner one night, he couldn’t help the smirk that came to his lips at the memory. Funnily enough, she was the first person to find out about you. Of course, he didn’t divulge anything other than he was finally seeing someone consistently, nothing about your age or profession. Based on the way Tina had reacted with clapping and kissing his cheeks, gushing “I’m so proud of you papa! That’s so good, this is so good for you! You need to get out there more” he was reevaluating his social life or lack there of and telling himself he needed to get out more, which lucky for him you were young and bubbly so you could get him out of the house. 

The next person he told, he really told, was Carmy. Well- technically Syd too, but she just happened to overhear. 

“W-wait wait” Carmy pinched the bridge of his nose how he did when he was baffled and confused, brows knitting together as he shook his head. “Lemme- lemme just get this straight - y’datin a…..” 

“Ex-o-tic dancer, cousin. It’s 2024, fuckin hell. Women dance and get paid for it - no big deal.” He repeated, emphasizing each sound as if what he was explaining was the most casual thing in the world, which - you had explained to him it should be so he took that and ran with it. 

“You’re fucking…a stripper- a stripper that’s what they’re called when they dance naked -  and how old did you say she was?” Syd questions. 

“Hey- she leaves her panties on she’s only naked top up, and plus she doesn’t even have to anymore she does it for the art.” He points the spoon he was wiping down at Carmy “this new NOMA bullshit we’re doin’ here isn’t the only art, Cousin. Shes an artist” he dropped the spoon in the bucket with the rest of the pristine ones he’d worked on. 

“Sure- and she’s fuckin younger then me” Carmy replied. “She could be y’fuckin-“

“Yeah, yeah - whatever she could be my fuckin daughter where’s your girlfriend huh? I don’t see anyone linin’ up to fuck you. She’s nice, and into me - and - and she’s funny and smart. So see already 2 qualities named that I don’t see much of around here so excuse fuckin me f’wantin to be happy when I’m not in this shithole” he teased 

“So- this not even 30 year old, she is gonna be y’date to the thanksgiving friends and family night - the one your daughter and ex wife are attending - and you think that will be a good idea considering tiff’s track record with girls you bring around” Syd questioned. 

“Yup” was all he said before taking the now finished bin of spoons to be put away, glad for the conversation to have finally been over. 

He rehashed the whole conversation with you later that night as you slowly rolled your hips into his, your skin sticking to his, both of you covered with a thin layer of sweat. You had his hands pinned next to his head, fingers interlaced with yours, practically speaking into your mouth as you kissed him sloppy and open mouthed, obsessed with eachothers taste. You always tasted of bubblegum, a habit you’d carried with you since childhood, he always tasted of cigarettes, a habit he had carried since high school. 

“Baby with my job I’m used to people not understanding me - I didn’t expect your friends to like me. My job - it can make people uncomfortable. But fuck them. You know how we feel huh?” You picked up the speed of your hips, using the curly deep brown patch of hair at the base of his cock to cause the most delicious friction with each thrust on his cock as you chased your orgasm. 

“Ye’ fuck em baby- shit- so fuckin tight- all mine right?” He breathed, mouthing over the bruises he’d left on your breasts a few nights ago. That was one thing about your job he had a bit of difficulty getting past, but you assured him you had no feelings for any clients and that you weren’t doing lap dances anymore only your stage set and otherwise you were just there to be more of a second house mom. But still, he was a man after all. He was possessive, a little jealous sometimes. So he loved to hear that you were only his during moments like this. 

“Yes daddy- all yours. You own this- you own me” you kissed his hand before bringing it to your breast and then using his shoulders as leverage to bounce further up and down, the action causing his head to fall back and jaw to fall slack. 

“Just like that - god- fuck - holy shit baby- shit-shit- y’fuckin close? How fuckin long has it been?” He pinched your nipple lightly, causing your pussy to clench around him and a pornstar like whine to leave your lips 

“It’s been 15 minutes- Christ you’re like a teenager. Can’t even last 30 minutes?” You teased, leaning in and kissing his neck, biting and nibbling the skin as you circle your hips, essentially jutting the tip of his cock into your g spot and that floaty feeling sneaking up on you as you feel him shoot rope after rope of arousal, painting your pretty, gummy walls a milky white and his stomach muscles clenching at the overstimulation. 

The grunts and moans that left his lips when you got him here were some of the hottest noises you’d ever heard a man make before, you were always sure to file them away in a special little folder in your brain for a rainy day he wasn’t able to get you off himself. “Feel good daddy?” You asked sweetly, sitting up and resting your hands on his hips so you could look down and watch as your mixed arousals gush out of you and around him, thick strings breaking with each slow, purposeful roll of your hips 

“So fuckin good baby- Jesus gonna finish soon? Dunno how much more I can do” he said, voice breathy, blissed out, nearly whiny. 

“Mmhmm few more minutes daddy- god we’re so pretty, I bet we taste so good mm?” You swipe the pad your forefinger over your clit, gathering the sweet and bitter white, making a show of rubbing it over the hardened bud of your nipple “feels good, too, wanna tell me how it tastes?” You leaned in and he nearly groaned as he took your breast in his mouth, crystal like eyes seeding into your own gaze as he flicked his tongue gratefully around the sensitive nub. 

You whined hotly, the sight of your tit in his mouth mixed with the feeling of his pants huffing through his nose and fanning over the swollen flesh as his tongue swirled and licked and flicked and drove you over the edge. You cried out, hips stuttering as you rode out your orgasm. His hand found your heat, rubbing with scissored fingers over your clit and meeting around his cock before dragging his fingers back up to repeat the assault. 

The action had you gushing around him, the contractions of your heat getting stronger causing him to groan into your skin and that vibration just added more stimulation. “Fuck yes- god daddy- always make me feel so good, no one understands how good we make eachother feel hm? Nothing else matters, baby, as long as you feel good, right?” 

You pulled him in for a sloppy, hot, passionate kiss. A kiss that made his heart do flips, and his stomach flutter, and made him feel way lighter.

Richie thought to himself in that moment he may be falling in love again, and he was equal parts fucking terrified, and excited to see where things with you went. 

He just had to get over ripping off the very last bandaid, and then you could really be together -

And that bandaid was Tiff.

@aestheticaltcow - @myszie - @wtfsteveharrington

[natequarter]

you seem to be the most knowledgable classic who person around so, question, if you feel like answering: if i wanted a passing knowledge of all the companions (and their doctors), do you have a list of one serial each that best displays their personalities? i'm realizing as i type this that it's kind of a big question so no worries if not lol

absolutely not the most knowledgeable classic who person around but i have (for better or worse) finished watching its twenty-six year run, so here is a poor attempt to sum it up. as a rule i've given most companions more than one serial, but hopefully they'll give you a broad idea of each companion.

first doctor era

susan:

an unearthly child (especially part 1): her introduction

marco polo: susan isn't handled brilliantly in her original run, but this one gives her a rather sweet friendship with a girl her own age for once

the dalek invasion of earth: her exit

ian and barbara:

an unearthly child: their introduction

the edge of destruction: short but sweet, everyone goes insane and barbara chews the doctor out for being a murderous git

the aztecs: strongly focused on barbara and her, uh, white saviour complex, which is a hell of a character flaw to give your science fiction protagonist!

the romans: everyone loves this one, and certainly it'll give you a good idea of the domestic side of their relationship… and also The Horrors. be warned, barbara is threatened with rape

the chase: a delightfully messy romp across the universe. here be bad american accents. also has a fantastic exit for ian and barbara

vicki:

the rescue: her introduction, and a damn good one at that

the romans: unlike ian and barbara, vicki has a lovely time! the doctor and vicki are at peak shenanigans here

the space museum: you know what the kids wants? that's right, anarchism and revolution

the myth makers: almost entirely lost to the sands of time, but remarkably good considering. vicki's exit is not what you might call compelling, but it's still a delightfully fun serial for her

steven:

the chase: he only appears in the last episode, but it is his introduction and it is remarkably effective

the time meddler: in which steven is extremely hotheaded and acts about as sanely as you would expect from a man who spent two years in total isolation from any other sentient being. also it's delightfully fun

the massacre: Steven's Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day. no, worse than that. has a beautiful confrontation at the end between the doctor and steven; steven is the first companion to truly break

for dodo i'll just recommend the one: the gunfighters. and for the first doctor (who you can easily get a taste of through any of the above), i'll also suggest the savages (steven's last story) and of course the tenth planet.

second doctor era

ben and polly:

the war machines: their intro, and the first base under siege. enjoy them whilst you can. great companion intro, though!

the highlanders: more for polly than for ben, though he does get some fun bits. polly, meanwhile, goes around mugging english officers for the fuck of it. probably her best serial

the moonbase: let's all dissolve cybermen with acid!

the macra terror: Ben Gets Indoctrinated. the macra do not exist! a real classic

jamie:

the faceless ones: he's barely in his first few serials, and this is the first one where he gets some proper characterisation and moments in his own right

the evil of the daleks: in which a companion once again chews out the doctor, and also, there are daleks

the war games: goes without saying. maybe don't watch this one for an introduction to jamie, though!

victoria:

tomb of the cybermen: victoria's first outing as a companion

the enemy of the world: look it's just a really good serial okay

fury from the deep: i struggle to think of any one serial that can easily summarise victoria, but this is the conclusion to the character arc she goes through, and as a consequence probably most focused on her personally

zoe:

the wheel in space: her introduction, and will give you a fairly clear idea of how she starts out

the mind robber: a fantastic serial in its own right, and jamie and zoe are both great here

the krotons: an okay serial, but it has some lovely moments for zoe and zoe with the doctor

for the second doctor specifically, check out power of the daleks and, of course, the war games

third doctor era

liz only appears in four stories, all in season 7, and all of season 7 is pretty good, so i'd suggest just putting on spearhead from space and going from there. the brigadier likewise appears in all of season 7, if you fancy serials for him specifically.

jo:

terror of the autons: her introduction, and also the master's, and also also yates'. there's a lot going on here. it's fun.

the dæmons: who would win? satan, or jo grant? the answer is jo obviously

the time monster: you just had to be there. jo continues to defeat epic forces of nature

the green death: jo's exit, and really well done considering they married her off

sarah:

the time warrior: her introduction, and a fun mockery of historicals

invasion of the dinosaurs: um, don't watch this one without first watching at least some of seasons 8-10. that aside: this is one of my favourites for sarah specifically, she's in top deranged form here

robot: this one is about sarah and a robot and her friendship with it and everyone else is irrelevant okay

the seeds of doom: all of season 13 is fantastic but listen we've all got trapped in a composter from time to time

the hand of fear: her exit, and i mean the last five minutes are magnificent

for the third doctor specifically, i actually quite like day of the daleks, and of course the three doctors is good.

fourth doctor era

harry:

the ark in space: i'm honestly not sure harry gets any real defining serials, but if he did, it would probably be this one. he spends most of robot being tied up or knocked unconscious or standing in the background looking pretty.

genesis of the daleks: a classic for a reason. he gets his foot stuck in a clam.

leela:

the face of evil: this is The leela serial. her introduction. fantastic on every level. she's an atheist thanks

horror of fang rock: sometimes you have to slap annoying screaming women. great horror

the sun makers: see vicki, the space museum; women love nothing more than revolution

romana:

the pirate planet: it takes romana .5 seconds to start imitating the doctor. she gets some really good lines in this one

city of death: ah, the eternal classic

the horns of nimon: ah, the other eternal classic, though maybe not for the right reasons

shada: like city of death, this is romana at the height of her adamsian whimsy

warriors' gate: one of my absolute favourite serials. romana's exit.

adric:

full circle: his introduction. for a brief and beautiful moment he almost worked as a character.

the keeper of traken: probably the closest adric comes to being a decent companion. he works better with four than five in my opinion

earthshock: yes, this is his exit. no, it's not that good

for the fourth doctor, he has that rare companion-lite serial: the deadly assassin. i'm also a fan of the androids of tara and state of decay.

fifth doctor era

nyssa:

the keeper of traken: she's not a companion in this one, only a side character, but she's pretty good as a side character

castrovalva: everything happens so much

tegan:

logopolis: her introduction, and a damn good serial to boot

kinda/snakedance: in which tegan is haunted by an eldritch snake

enlightenment: a fantastic and surreal serial

resurrection of the daleks: a wonderfully heartbreaking exit, shame about the daleks

turlough:

mawdryn undead: his introduction, the brigadier is there? don't make deals with gods, kids. unironically pretty fun

enlightenment: in which turlough tries to kill himself and gets tied up by pirates. also, more godlike beings.

frontios: weirdly focused on turlough in a very weird way. you'll see what i mean if you watch it

planet of fire: his exit, spent naked

for the fifth doctor, i'd recommend the visitation, the five doctors, and the awakening.

sixth doctor era

peri:

planet of fire: planet of shorts, more like. her introduction.

the caves of androzani: she is straight up not having a good time but at least it's a good serial

*crickets*

peri baby i'm so sorry

the mark of the rani. i guess.

mel:

paradise towers: it's camp okay. also the lesbian cannibals are a highlight

delta and the bannermen: i genuinely love this one

dragonfire: her exit, and weird but delightful

for the sixth doctor, i'd recommend vengeance on varos.

seventh doctor era

ace:

dragonfire: tells you all you need to know about her, but wait! every other serial she's in is a fucking banger!

remembrance of the daleks: this teenager kills fascists. ICONIC

ghost light: it's not "confusing", it's "warriors' gate". and warriors' gate is confusing but that's a good thing

the curse of fenric: a really great serial with parallels to the god complex and also communism repels vampires

survival: lesbian furry ace + the master is there

for the seventh doctor, i'd recommend the happiness patrol, silver nemesis (fuck you it's good), and battlefield (which, again, happens to have the brigadier in it).

[twstfanblog]

*~Toddler Chronicles-3rd Years PT.1~*

A/N: I have no excuses. I've just been hoarding my writing and trying to stack finished stories and post them out when I have depressive episodes—just to make sure I have something for you all! So anyhow, I hope you guys enjoy this part. The series is going to be so full of cute baby shenanigans that you'll have a toothache. Thank you again to @bun-lapin for letting me use their wonderful OCs! They are so fun to chew on... Word Count: 6.3K Pairings: Alluded Ruggie/Leona Warnings: Needles, Children, Me typing out a country accent, Google translate french

Starter, Pt 1

Ruggie had only felt fear so strongly he could taste it twice in his life. The first was when he was five and awoke in his hut with his grandma nowhere in sight. The second was when he was twelve and a drunk man had gripped at his arm to the point it bruised him for days.

And now he can say he's tasted fear three times. The third being he realized the second prince of the Savanna had been turned into a four-year-old and was missing. Anyone left in Savanaclaw that weekend morning was out and searching, using every nose and ear in the dorm to hunt down their missing leader.

Ruggie had to stop after an hour, his panicked breathing pulling in the scent of his search party more than the sandy flora he was looking for. He stood to the side, his head in his hands while his thoughts raced on what could have befallen the defenseless toddler that a pack couldn't find him.

“Ruggie!”

He looks up, not even trying to hide the tears pooling in his eyes. A rhino beastman, a third-year who heard Leona was missing and the pure distress in Ruggie’s voice quickly helped mobilize the dorm, stood before him. He shook his head, “We've searched the gardens side to side, we've got teams combing the woods. The school and coliseum are next for the beta teams, but we haven’t found anything.”

Ruggie’s sigh was ragged, dropping his head back down to grip at his hair in frustration. Dropping to the ground in a squat as he started to rock in a self-soothing motion. 

The third-year sighed along with him, folding his arms as he looked out to the campus, “The ‘Emergency Protocol’ for a lost member is normally Rook…but you said he was four, too, right?”

“Yeah…”

“...” He tilted his head, a questioning sneer showing his teeth, “Why are they four?”

“If I fucking knew, do you think I would be five steps away from a heart attack?”

“Okay…geeze…” The third-year turns around hearing someone call his name. With a nod to them, he turns back to Ruggie, “Cool your head. You know Leona best and you're in charge when he's not available. If anyone could figure out where he went it'll be you.”

As the other beastman left, Ruggie was left to calm himself. Once he could breathe without the laborious tug of his own nerves, he really thought. Leona had very key areas he went to, all secluded away from others as he was always more comfortable alone. But those areas were also easily accessible, a factor that the possibly scared four-year-old no doubt didn't care for.

Away from others, carefully hidden, familiar…

Ruggie’s eyes snapped open, jumping from his position and bolting back to the empty dorm. His hands braced against one of the open-air window sills, hopping through it with ease as he sprinted into the faux savanna their dorm resided in.

In his first year, before they had started their situationship deal, Ruggie remembers waking up in the middle of the night. Nothing serious, just thirsty, so he left his room. But on his way to the kitchen, he saw Leona outside of the dorm's walls and walking into the fields of scattered vegetation and rocks. Ruggie never asked where he was going, but that memory was enough to tell him Leona had more places to hide than he thought.

Tracking Leona became almost laughably easy once he was far enough from the dorm, after a while the only smell was Leona in the magically sterile lands. A scent he followed to a small cave, the opening semi-hidden from view by a large rock resting in front of the opening and the amount of weeds growing from the top. Brushing the strands of grass aside he bit his tongue to hold in the urge to bark out laughs at the scene before him.

It was a pretty sweet setup, by Ruggie’s standards. A large rug had been laid out on the ground, softening the area while also keeping the dirt trapped underneath it. There was a low table at the center of space, the remnants of a quick meal by way of multiple snack wrappers and an empty juice bottle. But the best thing was the ‘bed’. A pile of old blankets and pillows all pressed into the corner, a tiny mass with reddish brown hair swimming in a daishiki resting on it. As always, Leona slept with his back to the entrance, laying in a curled up ball with his tail laid out behind him.

Ruggie stepped into the area as slowly as he could. Yeah, Leona was four, but he was still Leona. And Ruggie did not want to see what the potentially scared toddler could do to him in an enclosed space. He couldn't stop the swear he mutters, seeing a single tiny ear suddenly flick around and point toward him. He sunk to his knees, hands held up in a motion of surrender as Leona slowly woke up, “Hey…hey there, bud. You ok?”

The kid turned, a big green eye full of distrust peering at Ruggie as if daring him to move. Before long Leona had moved to fully face Ruggie, sniffing the air a few times before narrowing his eyes and wrinkling his nose, “You smell like the sheets in that room…”

Nodding, Ruggie tries to walk on his knees, one step for every few seconds to not startle the toddler, “Yeah. I do your laundry, it smells like me sometimes. I'm Ruggie, I…I take care of you here.”

Leona did not look pleased in the slightest that Ruggie was getting closer, but made no move past the adorable sneer, “Where's here? If you're trying to get money you picked the wrong kid.”

Ruggie didn't know if that was the inkling of something terribly sad or if Leona was actively threatening him and he didn't care to find out. He chuckles, one-half hobble of a step makeing Leona tense up, his poker face pinching together as he struggles to hold it together. Ruggie takes two knee steps back.

“I'm not dangerous. Hell, I think you'd wipe the floor with me anyway. I haven't had breakfast yet.”

Leona eased, his face slowly morphing into a pout and placing his tiny hands onto his stomach as he looked to the side, “I haven't either…”

Ruggie chuckles, eyes looking to the table and the empty wrappers, “You haven't?” He snorts at the little growl of a huff Leona lets out. He turns back to the kid, his smile turning soft as he held a hand out, “How about we get out of here and I make you some food? You can call Kipaji and we can go from there…”

“Kifaji…?”

Name dropping the aid was the right move, Leona's eyes lighting up at the familiar name before he schools his expression again. He wrings the edge of the now oversized sleep shirt in a show of nervousness. Sniffing the air, Leona wasn't able to smell anything pointing toward malice from the hyena. If anything it calmed him in a sense, the scent of something sweet with the earthy smell of dandelions, the same smell clinging to the fibers of the room he woke up in. 

Ruggie kept his hand outstretched, breathing in relief when Leona finally walked closer and grabbed at his fingers with both of his hands. the sophomore stands, his scrawny hand wrapping securely around one of Leona's, “Let's get you a good meal then. You're so tiny; I gotta make sure you're well-fed!”

Leona pouts, following as the older boy guides them out of the little sanctuary, “I'm not that small for my age…”

Epel sighed, placing two plates down in front of the toddlers, “Here. Some nice and filling breakfast. Y'all want somethin’ to drink?”

Vil looked up, the long sleeves of his button-up pajamas neatly cuffed to allow his hands to be free of the fabric. He tilted his head, purple eyes curious, “You talk weird…Can I have peach juice?” he looked to his plate, smiling as he took notice of the gold swirls along the rim.

“...” Epel sighed, quirking his lip as he rolled his eyes. He couldn't smack the little bugger across the back of his head, he was four, he was going to say whatever was on his mind. 

While Vil started to eat his breakfast, buttered toast and cut-up fruit just as he had requested, Rook was pouting, poking at his food in mild confusion.

“Rook?” The child snaps up, looking to Epel at the sound of his name, “Ya okay bud? Do ya not like ya food?”

“...” Rook pouted, eyebrows pinching together before he turned to Vil. He patted Vil on his shoulder, calling him to lean closer to whisper into his ear.

Vil hummed, nodding and swallowing his food before looking at Epel, “You got his food wrong.”

“Ah…how!?” Epel gestured to the bell pepper omelet on Rook's plate, “You said he wanted eggs and bell pepper! Did he want them raw!?”

“Don't yell at me!” Vil huffed, his tiny nose scrunched up as he slapped his hand to the table, “He told me you made it weird. You're the big kid, you should know what little kids need.”

Epel rolled his eyes so hard he nearly fell. Sighing, he pinched the bridge of his nose to calm himself down before speaking to Rook, “What's wrong with it? What'd ah get wrong?”

Rook only looked at him confused, blinking a few times before mumbling a few words to Vil. The other blonde perked up again, swallowing his food before he responded in stilted Florian. Epel watched the back and forth, eyes following and wondering why…they were speaking in the other other language…

Vil nodded after a while, turning to Epel, “You made it wrong.”

“What did ah make wrong?” How could such a cute kid be so annoying in this small amount of time?

Sighing, Vil gestured to the omelet on Rook's plate, the other child finally picking at the food to eat it in tiny bites, “His food! You made it wrong!”

Epel gestured to the plate almost in a hysterical fashion, “Ya said he wanted eggs and peppers!?”

The pout Vil pulls is cute, Epel can't lie. But the glare he gave him was all too familiar to the disapproving stare of his 18-year-old self, “That's what he said he wanted! That…Rook, qu'est-ce que tu voulais?” *

“Shakshuka! Mon papa le fait pour moi, mon frère et ma sœur. Il n'y a pas des tomates…”

Nodding, Vil passed over a few chunks of his fruit medley to Rook, turning to glare at Epel, “You forgot the tomatoes.”

Sighing once again, Epel braced against the table and leaned closer to Rook, “Lil guy, ‘ou're gonna need to communicate with me. What is Shakshuka?”

Rook blinked his two big green eyes, tilting his to side as he gave Epel a look of pure confusion.

Vil leaned past Rook, cupping his mouth with both hands to loudly whisper, “I don't think he knows Common yet…”

“...”

Oh, that…that was bad. Epel forgot that Rook was one of the younger third-years; most kids didn't start learning the worldly language of Common until they were around four or prepping to enter the school system. He could make the assumption that the other third-years had at least started their introductory lessons, allowing the school's translation charm to be properly activated for them still.

Epel looked to Vil, trying to keep himself from looking concerned, “Wait, why? He should at least know a few words by now?”

Another brief conversation in Florian between the toddlers, Vil turning to Epel, “He said his mommy said he wasn't getting lessons until he was five.”

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Epel breathed out. A new annoyance to this pile of nonsense that has become his school life.

Crewel sighed, leaned over his desk as though it was the only thing keeping him up. brushing his hair from his eyes he looked at the group of students and toddlers gathered in his homeroom. The toddlers all dressed in makeshift clothing of oversized shirts, socks, and magically resized shoes.

Riddle stood behind his two turned juniors, eyes watching them like a hawk. His gray pupils moving back and forth to make sure neither child was acting out. A helicopter guardian move that proved unnecessary since both children were sharing a chair and crowded against each other, looking with wide eyes at whatever was on Cater’s phone.

Ruggie stood still with a blank expression, for a second Crewel had feared that the Savanaclaw students hadn't managed to find Leona. Only to see tiny hands creep from behind Ruggie’s head to tug at the corners of his mouth. An equally tiny face peeking from Ruggie’s shoulder and demanding to know when he was going to be fed again.

Epel sat in a chair, eyes glaring straight ahead in purely concealed annoyance. In his lap was Vil, the toddler quietly whispering in a harsh tone as he held and picked at Epel's nails. Clearly scolding him for having dirt under his nails and the small nicks on his fingers. In contrast, Rook was comfortably seated on Epel's shoulders. The other child smiling and having fun messing with the freshman’s hair by running his hands through it and trying to pull it into pigtails.

Ortho was the calmest, Idia practically swimming in his standard hoodie from Ortho's arms. The junior's long hair had shortened dramatically, now a fluffy halo of blue flames compared to the tail it was before. He sat curled into Ortho's arms, his mouth covered by his hoodie sleeve as he nervously glanced around the room and chewed on the fabric.

The most contrasted pair were Malleus and Lilia. While Mallues stood on the ground, holding onto a folded over Sebek's hand and calm, Lilia…

Silver held the still hissing and yowling child by the arms and as far away from his body as possible. The long-haired bat fae was kicking and squirming, nearly fighting for his life to escape Silver's hold. Though from how he kept angling his head and biting into the fabric of the shirt, Crewel could only think it was also a demand to be freed from the prison called clothing.

Crewel groans, covering his face with both his hands. Soon Hui-Yan enters the room, looking annoyed as she tips her head toward Crewel in greeting, “I’ve alerted the other teachers, no one else seems to be affected so I believe it was just this group affected…”

“Uh…” Ruggie reached up, Finally pulling Leona's hands off of his face and moving to hold the toddler to his front, “So…I know they have these meetings every now and again. I help Leona make stuff for them sometimes. That's most likely where they got spelled or dosed…”

Riddle hummed, eyes still locked on his unbothered charges, “A potion makes the most sense…it would explain the delayed reaction more than a spell-Cater, don’t you dare open that message!” He reaches down, pulling the phone away from Cater’s little hands and ignoring his and Trey’s whining.

“...” Crewel sighed again, reminding himself that he had a bottle of scotch calling his name once this whole event was settled, “What potion even does this…? Bucchi, do you have any idea how they could have dosed?”

“Leona was making a big fuss last night on Malleus fuc-” He nearly bit his tongue, closing his mouth as nearly everyone’s eyes snapped to him, basically daring him to finish his sentence, “...He said Malleus messed up the drink mix he brought and it tasted bad…”

Silver sighed, trying his best to rework his hold on Lilia as the child managed to wiggle one of his arms free from his hand, “I remember…Kalim came over a day or so ago with various syrups and sodas…Malleus just said they were mixing things for fun but it must have been for this meeting- Ow.” He groaned frowning at the growling child digging his fangs into his hand, “Please, stop biting me…”

“I don’t think Kalim al Asim would bring anything that contained magical properties. So that leaves the Scarabia and the Diasomnia dorm as the prime location for a third-party to slip something into the beverage.” Ortho nodded at his reasoning, giving his brother a worried glance, “My most present concern is what could have done this. It was strong enough to effect full-blooded fae but weak enough to humans to ‘deage’ them  both to the same age.”

“...No?” Sebek spoke quietly, eyes glancing between Malleus in his arms and Lilia wrapped around Silver's arm and biting into his wrist, “They're…they're not. Waka-sama! Do you know how old you are?”

Malleus had only jumped a bit at the sudden volume increase that was Sebek’s voice before calming back down, “I'm forty…”

“...”

Crewel pinched the bridge of his nose, counting back in his head to calm his rising blood pressure. He grabbed his phone with one hand, texting Oster as he searched in his other coat pocket, “I’ll need to do some tests to determine what’s in their systems. Not to mention just making sure it’s not actively hurting them…”

Epel spoke up, Vil moving from his hands to poking and pulling at his face claiming he was going to get wrinkles if he kept glaring, “How are you gonna test it?”

“Blood sample.” Crewel then pulled what they could only conceive as the biggest-looking syringe any of them had ever seen. Silver and Sebek both only seeing one of such style in the valley since it seemed more modern needles weren’t so…comically terrifying.

…

Every child once in a relative calm had started to sob the second the syringe was brought out, each wailing and struggling to escape the room or their guardians' hold once they realized they were going to be stuck with the insanely scary needle.

Silver was fighting to keep Lilia from kicking him in the throat in his efforts to break free of his hold. Sebek wasn’t any better as Malleus whimpered and whined, the lights flickering the more distressed he became as the clouds darkened outside. Ruggie had Leona on his head, the child hissing and trying to tug Ruggie by the ears to demand he turn around to leave the room. Epel and Riddle had it the worst. Both of the smaller boys tried to strong-arm two wailing toddlers from flinging themselves to the ground.

Riddle yells, face red both from overexertion and rage, “Why do you have a sterile syringe in your coat pocket!?”

“Don’t you bark at me, Rosehearts! I’ll keep what I need to deal with you lot of rowdy puppies!” The teacher groaned, the sound of wailing children something he had no desire to ever hear. 

Hui-Yan was no better as the woman stood almost frozen beside him with her eyes jumping from one crying kid to the other. She leaned over, eyes glancing to Crewel’s phone to see what he had texted the other science teacher, “Is Oster bringing more syringes or are you going to draw from each of them?”

“... I'm not using the same needle on all of them Hui-Yan.”

“Okay.”

“Why would you think that?”

“I just assumed that’s what you’d do.”

“Why-”

“Um!”

Crewel and Hui-Yan look in surprise. The voice was squeakier but Idia was clearly the child to speak out. He was making direct eye contact, pulling his face from his sleeve and nodding his head.

“I can go first! To show them it’s not scary.”

“O-oh…Thank you, Idia…?” Both teachers glanced at each other, almost asking if they had heard the same thing. Idia as an 18-year-old was not brave, loud, nor as considerate as his toddler counterpart. While very helpful, it was simply jarring…

Crewel pulled out his crop, starting to cast a few spells on the syringe in hand, “Another teacher is coming with more supplies so I can safely get a sample from each of you. You’ll get one of those needles since I have this one for Malleus or Lilia. Modern syringes are made from steel which, if you puppies have been doing your science homework, is a mixture of iron and carbon.” He held up the syringe again, eye twitching at the increased wailing of the children, “I have a few vintage syringes that are still functional that were made with silver. A few cleaning spells and they’ll be safe to use for the fae…”

Oster bursts in, a bag slung over her shoulder as she huffed and puffed, “I’ve come with the items!”

“Perfect timing. Please prep the baby Shroud to draw blood and prep yourself to potentially fight several children…” Crewel pulled out the single-use bags of syringes, looking each over before he started to prep the second vintage syringe.

Rook peaked from under Epel's arm, watching as Idia let Ortho and Oster maneuver his jacket around to show his arm. He whimpered louder, watching the teacher wipe at the other boy's arm with a cotton ball that stained his skin orange, “Vous ne savez pas ce qu'est un tir? Ils font mal et font peur!” **

Idia looked down, eyebrows creased together in confusion, “Wha…?”

Ortho hums, gaining Idia’s attention, “He’s speaking Florian.”

“Oh…” Idia turned back to Rook, shaking his head at the terrified child, “I don’t speak Florian…”

“Scary! He’s saying shots are scary!” Vil wailed, struggling and twisting his arm in Epel’s hold while Rook started to do the same with his other side.

“Oh…Well. I get shots a lot, so I’m used to them.” Idia gains a fearful expression seeing both Oster and Crewel give the needles a final check over, “Yeah, it feels like a pinch but then you get a sucker!”

Malleus stopped his whimpering, shyly peaking from a fretting Sebek’s shoulder. He sniffled, looking over to Idia, “What…what is a sucker?”

“...A sucker?” Idia responded, looking just as confused. How did anyone not know what a sucker was…?

Sebek spoke up, patting Malleus on the back in an effort to calm him more, “It’s a confection; like the honey drops given out at the spring festival! Once you have the test done, you will receive a sucker as your payment for your bravery!”

“...” Malleus looked over to Crewel, the man realizing he was being watched and stiffly held the syringe up. Turning back to Sebek, Malleus nodded his head in a determined manner, “...I want a honey drop…”

“I will ensure you have as many honeydrops as you can stomach, Waka-sama!”

Two of the eight children pacified by the promise of candy, Riddle and Epel took notice and decided it was their best bet.

Riddle managed to kneel down, almost being pulled over by the two struggling toddlers, “Trey, Cater, you can have sweets if you both allow the nice teacher to get a blood test-”

Trey all but wept, the fight slowly leaving him after nearly two minutes of tugging against Riddle’s grip, “I want my moooooooom…!”

Vil cried out, much angrier and still fighting to be released from under Epel’s arm, “I want my lawyer!”

It took another five or so minutes for every child to be calmed and pricked. Trey demanded to call his mother and father once he had his blood drawn and his sucker firm in hand. Cater completely rejected the idea of candy, pitching an even bigger fit at the idea he would be force-fed the sucker after he had his blood taken. Riddle had to promise not only on his life but his favorite color that Cater would be the one allowed to pick what they all had for lunch that day.

Vil had nearly screamed himself hoarse when Crewel approached him with the needle, completely falling into tears on the ground and forcing Epel to fully console the child. It took a promise of as much frozen yogurt as he wanted for dessert and to swear he hadn't been kidnapped by crazy fans of his father. The other blonde toddler had helped Epel explain to Rook that they needed to take a bit of blood to make sure he was healthy. Though he didn't look happy about it, he gained his sucker by holding Vil's hand and closing both of his eyes tight.

Malleus had allowed Oster to stick him with the needle, hiding in Sebek's shoulder and whimpering. The first-year nearly making the woman break the needle off under the toddler's skin, yelling at her that she had taken enough blood when the sample had barely reached the first measurement mark. Lilia fought tooth and nail, never having seen a syringe and thinking it to be a weapon of sorts. It took both Silver and Hui-Yan distracting the child with the promised bright green sucker, allowing Crewel to gather his sample the moment Lilia had let his guard down, barely moving away to avoid razor-sharp baby teeth.

Leona refused and no promise of candy nor food nor any activity Ruggie could think up was accepted. In the end it took Ruggie holding the little prince in a body lock with both his legs and an arm. His last appendage helping Oster by holding Leona's arm still as he hissed and yowled. Once released the first thing the prince did was turn around and lunge at Ruggie, biting down hard on the hyena’s ear and had yet to let go.

Idia had watched it all, comfortable and snug in Ortho's arms with his star-covered bandaid and already blue sucker-stained mouth, “Bunch of babies…”

A botched potion was the answer. From the trace of ingredients found, Crewel and Oster were able to conclude the original potion was a magic reduction syrup. A rare concoction, but commonly prescribed for younger children with high levels of magic and no proper training. A potion that Oster had started to make once she and Crewel realized the children would possibly need it, Malleus mostly…

The main deviation was the substitution of moon crystals for moon petals. An ingredient commonly found in high-quality beauty creams for rejuvenating purposes. Both Crewel and Oster recognizing it from their own beauty night creams. Not harmful, but, it did manage to turn the recipients four. Luckily the potion would only last for a week or so, two tops.

Crewel had tasked Hui-Yan to do what she did best, hunting down students. Someone had planned to potentially poison multiple students and it was an act that would not slide, even by Night Raven standards. But, until the culprits were caught, there wasn't much any of them could do but make sure their new tiny charges were comfortable.

With promise of properly sized clothing and other necessities to be delivered, everyone took their respective toddlers back to their dorms.

Riddle sighed, a pouting Cater holding onto two of his fingers and a still sniffling Trey clutched in his free arm. Walking back to Heartslabyul was a chore and his workload would only grow as the days went on. While aid would be coming in the form physical items, Cater and Trey were pillars of the dorm, emotional support for many a student and Riddle's closest aids. He was aware he'd lose them once they went off to their internships, but to have it happen only a few weeks into this repeat year was cruel. Even if it was only for at most two weeks, Ace and Deuce were not ready for the task of filling their juniors roles yet…

As he entered the dorm's lounge area, he made eye contact with Ace. The redhead freshman sitting on a couch opposite Deuce while the other muttered quietly.

“Wow…they're still four, huh? I would have thought Crewel-Sensei would give them something to make them older again…” Ace stood from his seat, walking closer and raising an eyebrow. Both at Trey whining into Riddle's shoulder and the foul little pout Cater was giving him, “What's their deals?”

“Shots. Suffice to say, neither were too happy about it…” While he was able to guide Cater toward Ace, the smaller redhand's pout lessening when he was picked up, Trey had simply refused to detach from Riddle.

Deuce smiled soft, poking at Trey's back, “Hey, lil guy. Nothing to be afraid of, we're all pretty familiar with each other when you're older.”

Trey merely shook his head, not moving from Riddle's shoulder.

Sighing, Riddle did his best to shuffle Trey in hopes of moving his weight in his quickly tiring arms, “It was a very emotional morning for everyone. Maybe a nap is in order for them, at least until lunch…”

Ace takes notice of Cater in his arms. At the mention of lunch, the toddler seemed to be on the verge of tears the longer Riddle spoke on sleeping arrangements instead of the actual meal time.He bounced the toddler lightly in his arms, gaining his attention before doing a stage whisper to gain everyone's attention, “Hey. Why are you so mad?”

Cater puffed his cheeks out, sending a glare over to Riddle before whispering back to Ace in a harsh tone, “He lied about letting me pick lunch. He didn't say I could pick…”

Ace gasped, looking toward a confused Riddle scandalized, “Housewarden! Shame on you! Did you promise Cater could pick lunch? And you go back on your word? Shame! Jail! Jail for one thousand years!”

Deuce turned to Riddle, frowning himself at the slight, “Rosehearts-senpai…”

“I-! Cater is still allowed to pick lunch!? I didn't say he wasn't? I only gave the opinion that they should have a nap beforehand. It was a very busy morning.”

Cater’s demeanor changed, his eyes widen in amazement and moving away from curling against Ace, “You mean it? I can still pick what's for lunch?”

Riddle softened, smiling at the clearly excited toddler, “Of course you can, Cater-CATER, DON'T JUMP!”

Calm had fled quickly, Cater managing to slip out of Ace's relaxed hold and hit the ground running. His little legs zooming him out of the room before any of them realized he was running.

Deuce was the first to sprint after the child, “Diamond-Senpai! Where are you going!?”

“To pick lunch!”

Ace and Riddle rushed after them both, Riddle still carrying Trey in his tired arms, “Cater, lunch isn't for hours!”

Cater demanded to pick lunch, only then would he even entertain the idea of a nap. So Riddle, Ace, and Deuce all walked along the kitchen. Following behind a far too excited toddler as he looked around the curvy space looking for something to eat.

Trey had finally calmed down, pulling himself from Riddle's shoulder to look around the kitchen himself. Luckily he was distracted enough for Riddle to hand him off to Deuce, finally giving his arms a break.

Riddle watched from a stool, Deuce carrying and holding Trey up to cabinets and various items of the kitchen for closer looks. Ace was following behind Cater, laughing whenever the child opened a cabinet below only to be greeted with pots and pans instead of the food he was expecting.

But soon, Cater found actual food in the cabinets he could reach. The redheaded toddler proudly presenting an unopened jar of tomato sauce to Riddle, “This! I want this for lunch!”

Riddle looked at the jar, knowing the sauce was healthy enough but…, “Just the sauce?”

“Yes.”

“No. You're not just eating sauce for lunch.”

“...” Cater’s face started to flush, tears welling up in his eyes before he started to stomp his feet, “No! You said! You said I could pick! You promised!”

“I did promise, but sauce isn't lunch. You need to pick something else.”

“Nooooooo!” Cater had fallen back onto his bottom, shaking his head and nearly throwing the glass jar to the ground in fury before Ace kneeled down. The now older redhead trying to both calm and reason with the child.

“H-hey. It's ok. We can find something other than sauce for lunch-”

“NOOOOOOOOOO!”

Deuce had appeared, still holding Trey at an arms length while the toddler held out a box of dry spaghetti  pasta. Trey shook the box, gaining Cater’s focus before he shook it again.

“We can have sauce and noodles! Then you can have a lot of sauce with them.”

“...” Cater seemed to weigh his options, casting a pout at Riddle who remained seated in his chair but was unable to look at the upset toddler for long, “I want a lot of sauce on my noodles…”

“...” Riddle knew they had some chicken in the fridge, Trey had wanted to try to teach a few dorm members proper breading techniques, “Yes. A pasta is a wonderful idea for lunch. You're both very smart boys. Cater’s sauce will help make the perfect food for lunch.”

The praise was more than enough to dry Cater’s tears, the toddler holding the jar tight in his hands as he smiled.

Ace, Deuce and Cater walked around the kitchen, both of the freshmen taking turns lifting the toddler to see into the upper cabinets. Riddle sighed, a weight settling into his chest. Children were…so emotionally fragile. A part of him feared this was another avenue of his life that his upbringing failed to prepare him for. Feeling a tug on the top of his boots, the housewarden looked down to Trey, the once content toddler now looking unsure and back on the verge of tears,

“Can I call my mom now? You promised…”

“...” Brief panic gripped his heart, a bead of sweat forming at his temple before he smiled at Trey, “S-sure. Just one moment…”

Riddle pulled out his phone, looking at the personal content number of Mrs. Clover, a number that was routinely deleted and re-added before and after every school break. He gulped, clicking on the icon for a video call and waiting.

The line had rung only a few moments before a middle-aged woman with cropped black hair appeared on screen, she blinked at the camera with warm honey eyes before a wide smile took over her face, “Oh! Riddle, hello, lovely. How are you? You don’t normally call. Oh! While I have you on the line, can you tell Trey I tried to call him this morning but his phone kept going to voicemail?”

“...About that…” Riddle smiled nervously, making brief eye contact with a very excited looking Trey at the sound of his mother’s voice, “Something happened today and…Well…” Riddle turned his phone around, doing his best to keep Trey in frame of the camera.

The sound of pans falling from over the phone was loud and as disastrous as Riddle feared it to be. Instead, Trey beamed, waving with both his arms and bouncing on the balls of his feet.

“Hi, mommy! I got shots today and was really brave!” Trey moved closer to the screen, holding up his unopened sucker for his mom to view, “I got a sucker. I think it’s strawberry. I can tell because it’s pink but still red. So it’s not cherry. I can tell!”

Riddle could hear how frazzled Mrs.Clover was, the woman stuttering over her words, “Oh, how amazing, Trey! You’ve gotten so good at telling flavors, haven’t you? Um…B-be a good boy for mommy and be nice to Riddle okay? He’s gonna look after you for a bit, okay?”

“Okay, mommy! I’ll be good!”

“Trey!”

Riddle and Trey looked over, Cater now on Deuce’s shoulders and looking into a cabinet with an expression of wonder, “There’s more pasta shapes in here!”

“I wanna see!” Trey had dashed over, only to stop and double back to wave to the camera one more time, “Bye, mommy!”

“Bye, sweetie~...” Once Trey had ran off, being picked up by Ace to look into the cabinet, Mrs.Clover whispered, “Riddle, what happened to my son?”

Riddle turned the camera back to himself, whispering low as to not gain anyone’s attention, “There was a situation involving a misbrewed potion being slipped to a group of juniors and Trey was unfortunately a part of it. Bloodwork was taken and there’s no harm being done from the potion. They’re simply…four for the next few weeks.”

Mrs.Clover stood with her mouth lightly agape, giving Riddle a hard stare that lasted so long her husband had called out to her in mild confusion and concern. She shook her head, blinking herself back before turning around. She said a few words that Riddle couldn’t make out before facing him again, “We’ll get our ducks in a row over here. By…By Sunday we should have everything all set to close down for the week to come help you boys out.”

“Mrs.Clover, I couldn’t possibly ask-”

“Well, you aren’t, I’m offering, Riddle. You said a group got turned right? You boys over there are still just kids. My husband and I will be there to take the load off of you from watching them. Plus, it’ll be nice you know? We missed so much of Trey’s childhood…It’s not permanent but it’d be nice to have more pictures of him from when he was small…”

“...” Riddle huffed, looking to the side, “That would be helpful…I will have plenty of paperwork to handle now that Trey and Cater are indisposed…”

“I’ll call you later tonight! I can help you get Trey settled into bed. You should think of calling Cater’s parents, too. Bye, Riddle. Talk more later, okay?”

“Understand. Farewell and a good afternoon to you Mrs.Clover.”

Once the call had ended, Riddle thought over her words. It may be helpful for the others dealing with toddlers to have a week break from tending to them. Humming under his breath, he sends a message to Ortho, wondering what the android though of the idea of alerting the turned junior’s families…

Translations!

*V: Rook, what did you want? R: My papa does it for me, my brother and my sister. There are no tomatoes

**R: Don't know what a shot is? They hurt and are scary!