#so many thoughts compared to the others (besides 'it happened one night' that was a long movie)

[cultven]

Hello! Can I request homelander x human reader? Maybe he has some kind of messed up obsession with a Vought employee that gave him a huge cupcake on his birthday but she is just completely blind to it. Like he's just obsessing constantly like "I swear if someone touches you I'll-" and she's just like "hm, he must be hungry" Id love to see what you do with this plot if you decide to use it. Obsessed x dense is such a funny kind of ship to me.

Strawberry Cupcake

Homelander X Reader

Content: Protective Homelander, Jealousy, he is obsessed! and you adore him too, some threats, lots of touching (in non-sexual ways), semi-harassment from a side character but not really

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings: Non-graphic threats

a/n: I WILL NEVER GET OVER THIS GIF also I am currently watching The Boys for the first time and have not made it to Homelander’s birthday episode yet so I changed the request a tiny bit, ty

It began with a cupcake—such a small insignificant gesture for the sender, but a brain-rewiring occasion for the receiver. Homelander stood there, dazed, looking at the large treat on the seven-shaped desk, right in front of his chair. He was publicly celebrating “500 crimes prevented” recently, but the majority of it was just a PR stunt. They faked the last crime, making it extra flamboyant so that audiences had something to gawk over. Vought needed more interest so they threw together some tacky event with overpriced merchandise and a speech from Homelander himself. With a tentative hand, Homelander reached out and held the cupcake in his gloved hand. It couldn’t have been an outsider that gave this to him, no one steps into this room besides those he allowed. Examining it further, he noticed a pink slip on the table next to the cupcake. 

‘In celebration of 500 crimes! Thank you for protecting us. -Y/N’

A simple message, a display of gratitude he receives from strangers all of the time. So then why does this feel so different? So personal compared to the other thanks he gets? He licked some frosting. Strawberry, his favorite. He felt a smile grow on his face. Perhaps it was because you were the only employee to thank him for all the fake-heroic work he has done, or because you were observant enough to know his food preferences, but he needed to find just who you were. 

Immediately he went to Ashley and demanded she find who this Y/N person was. The first time he saw you he was instantly drawn to your demeanor. You didn’t seem scared of him, even though as a higher-ranking employee you should be at least aware of his capabilities. Homelander quickly shooed Ashley away and began to make a civil conversation with you, thanking you for the cupcake with a genuine smile. You happily mirrored a smile back, showering him with praise but also trying to make regular conversation. You didn’t want to seem like a fan or anything. 

The time you spent together was refreshing, humanizing. You treated him not as a machine like so many others before you had. You eagerly indulged in whatever topic Homelander brought up, sparking even more interest in the man. As the night concluded he decided to test you. 

“You do realize that the whole ‘500 crimes’ thing is fake, right?�� He said it with a tone intended to make you feel stupid for getting the cupcake, despite his undying gratitude for the small gesture. He needed to know what your reasoning was, or if your pretty little face was just not paying attention to the work they do at Vought. 

“I know! But, I dunno. It still seemed like a cool thing to pretend to celebrate. Plus, I’ve been getting into baking and thought, why not make you something? I mean, what’s the worst that could happen?” You said with a soft smile and a sweet expression. You were so fucking oblivious to the fact he could snap you in half without a second thought it was adorable. But it also scared him, were you that dense in the real world to criminals? With even just meeting you he couldn’t bear the thought of you being injured. And thus began Homelander’s mission to be your guard dog in the shadows. 

He was always there, whether you knew or not, keeping an eye on you. He was horrified when he found out you walked home alone from Vought when your shift was over. Were you stupid? No, he knows that’s not the answer. You were just too kind to ever assume that there were people out there who could harm others without a second thought. It was honestly a miracle you’ve made it this far without his protection. But no need to fear now, he’s got your back. 

When he is making himself known he’s constantly obsessing over you, to the point where everyone else in the room can tell but you. One day Homelander brought you along for a promotional event Vought was hosting for a sponsor. He held your hand the entire time backstage, wanting to keep you close. For the moments where he was forced to be somewhere else God forbid anyone else enter your vicinity because they would have a very stern talking to later by America’s favorite superhero. 

“Y/N, just stay here okay? I’ll be back in a bit. If anyone tries to do something tell me, and I’ll fucking blast their heads off sweetheart.” Homelander looks at you with a serious expression, but you only smile at him back. You believe he’s always exaggerating with his threats, despite it being the exact opposite. If anything, the threats are always tamer than the punishment itself. 

“I know, I know. Anybody talks to me, you'll kill them.” You said with a smile, briefly touching Homelander’s nose with your pointer finger. “You’re so cute. Go get ‘em, tiger.” You shoo him away to Ashley, who is waiting with a bored expression. She’s seen this display a million times, of Homelander swooning over you and you not picking up a single hint. The times when he would make Ashley call you into his office just so he could rest his head on your lap at the end of a particularly long day. When you were running late once to a meeting and Homelander searched the entire city in under two minutes because his overactive mind convinced himself you were dead in an alleyway and he had failed you. When he returned disheveled and ready to burn the entire building to the ground he found you were just in the bathroom touching up your makeup and lost track of time. Somehow in his haste of panic, he didn’t think to check the building and immediately assumed the worst. Ever since that incident, Ashley has made sure you were on time for every event now. She was sure he even leveled a mountain for you once after you thought it had the perfect view for a picnic, but no room for a proper picnic blanket. 

Yeah, the dude was obsessed. This brought about some problems at Vought, but anyone would rather jump off a bridge than confront Homelander about his little obsession with you. 

It was another typical day, Vought had just begun filming for a TV show about The Seven. Naturally, they filmed Homelander’s segment first. You sat in said superhero’s dressing room and watched as he perfectly combed his soft blonde hair into place. You had a stupid smile on your face, gawking at the incredible man in front of you. “You’re gonna do great today! I’m so excited to watch your film.” Homelander looked over and saw you practically jumping in your seat with excitement. It warmed his heart to see you so genuinely enjoy him doing simple tasks like mindlessly talking to a camera for hours. 

“Thank you, sweetheart.” Homelander puts down his comb and saunters over to your chair, bringing you into a sudden hug. In truth, he can’t stand physically being away from you for more than an hour. He feels right when he’s with you, he feels like John, not Homelander. It’s such an overwhelming feeling of comfort he feels, he could cry each time you touch. If this is what true love feels like he wishes all his enemies feel it so he can rip it away from them. How excruciatingly painful that must feel shakes him in maniacal ways. 

“John?” You’ve become accustomed to using his real name with him by his request. The simple title shakes him out of his thoughts and brings them back to your shining face. “What’s the hug for? Not that I’m complaining but…” You trail off, arms wrapped around his torso reciprocating the hug. 

“Can’t hug my girl?” He playfully smiles, squeezing your small body with only a percentage of his power. We all know what would happen if he did it with full force. He leads you out into the hallway in front of his dressing room door. The expression he wore was akin to the face a puppy makes when it gets kicked. “I have to go film, but remember if anyone fucking touches you I’ll burn them until their unrecognizable,” Homelander said with a nonchalance that should have horrified you, but you simply smile when he pats your head, kisses your cheek, and leaves the room. As you turn to go your own way you see an intern for the television company standing there, mouth agape. Their expression was almost laughable. 

“He just must be hungry!” You giggle. 

As the day progressed Homelander became increasingly irritated over the fact he hadn’t seen you in hours. The underpaid employees were consistently getting berated and yelled at by the man. “Go find Y/N…” Ashley whispered to an intern after a particularly realistic threat spewed from Homelander’s mouth. 

Looking up from his tiny rampage, it was evident that Homelander had heard the request crystal clear. Deciding he was done with idiots for the rest of today he left with a grumble, ��Don’t bother, I’ll find her myself.” 

Finding you wasn’t the problem, it never is with Homelander’s unique abilities, but finding who you were with was something else. Somehow a random D-list superhero had found its way onto the set and decided that you were the lucky girl who deserved his charm today. Unlucky for that man, Homelander’s already sunken mood had just become much more severe. He was clearly making you comfortable, backing you into a corner where you couldn’t escape. He wasn’t quite touching you, but he was only a breath away from being able to. The sigh almost activated Homelander’s eye beams right then and there. He felt animalistic, and territorial over you. 

With the best fake expression he could muster, which wasn’t very good, he casually walked over to the two of you. As the man next to you saw who was approaching his eyes lit up and his body seemed to forget you were there, so enthralled by the man in front of him. Wrong reaction. 

“Homelander, sir! Wow, it’s such an honor to meet you.” His hand stuck out, waiting for a handshake it would never receive. 

“Right,” Homelander’s smile was strained. “And what is going on over here?” 

The man seems taken aback by the question, not quite sure why Homelander was interested in what was happening. “Oh, um, me and girly over here are just chatting. Think I might get to home base tonight, if you know what I mean, haha.” He winked at Homelander, a disgusting and provocative gesture. Gauging your reaction to this comment, a look of fear in your eyes and a pleading look sent John’s way, he almost evaporated the man right then and there. But he kept his cool, he wouldn’t want you to see all the dirty work he has to do after all. 

“I don’t know what you mean,” Homelander said plainly, making the other superhero, if he could even call himself that, cringe at himself. John stood there, eyes now locked on you. You looked so fragile in this position, like something he needed to protect. Sometimes he felt his abilities were given to him for that sole purpose; to protect you from the world. Even if that wasn’t the case he does so anyway. 

“Right, well, um…” The man stuttered out, embarrassed at the exchange. 

“What are you doing here? It’s surprising they’d invite a D-tier superhero to a Vought shooting.” Homelander questioned, changing the subject away from you. This seemed to bring the man’s personality back. 

“Ah! Well, they wanted to include a segment where you were helping smaller heroes, you know, to show you don’t care about status and everyone is equal.” 

“Well isn’t that nice?” Homelander’s grin toward the man only became increasingly artificial, smile lines dancing on either side. He turns to you. “We’ll be right back, sweetheart. Just going to chat about the show a bit.” He winks at you, before ushering the man away out the back. 

It was an hour later when Homelander came back, seemingly much calmer now. Ashley began yelling at him, scolding him for making them wait before he shoved her aside and beelined for his dressing room where he knew you were sitting all pretty waiting for him. 

“There’s my beautiful girl.” He cooed, walking over and taking you in his arms, the scent of your shampoo entering his system. 

You giggled. “Where have you been? Still talking to that one guy? I don’t really like him, he was being weird.” 

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. He wasn’t a good fit for the show anyway.” Homelander wiped a bit of charcoal off his suit. “The team decided to fire him.” 

“Mhm, I don’t disagree with that notion.” You nuzzle into Homelander’s chest before noticing a small box he was hiding behind his back. “What’s that?” 

“Oh, this?” A wide smile played on the man’s lips. He presented the box, a red ribbon sealing the deal. “A present to cheer you up from earlier.” You thanked him before eagerly taking the box into your soft hands. With one fell swoop you managed to untie the ribbon to reveal one strawberry frosted cupcake that you then both shared. 

[romanticintheory]

HI I JUST READ YOUR "SIMON BETRAY YOU" AND YOU KNOW WHATTTT IT HURTS SOO GOOD OMG THANKS FOR MAKING THATT SJWISHWBSHSJSBWJSBWBS

...

and.. maybe can you write for a part two? pleaseee🥺

HIII TYSM IM SO GLAD YOU ENJOYED!!! here's a pt 2! i am very sick at the moment, though, so this might be a bunch of gibberish (i sincerely apologize if so). hope you like it <3

simon riley betrays you pt. 2

simon "ghost" riley x reader || pt. 1 || masterlist

☆ ☆ ☆

-miraculously, they let you go.

-you half expected someone to drag you out of the car with the barrel of a gun pressed against your temple with the intent to fire, but no. after a few excruciatingly long hours alone with your arms and legs bound, someone new came to cut your ties and let you loose.

-maybe they were just bad at their job, you thought. after all, why would they let you, essentially a witness, go free without any repercussions?

-a few years pass. you try to move on, but its impossible when your entire world was shattered in one night.

-you never heard back from your father since then, but that wasn't the thing that hurt the most. you couldn't go a single day without thinking about the sting of betrayal. any happy moment you had was spent comparing the time you felt that same feeling with him, before anything in the world was wrong to you.

-what's worse, there was something telling you that you shouldn't tell anyone about it even if you wanted to. a voice in your head kept telling you that maybe, maybe they're keeping you on a leash. maybe someone was watching you at this very moment ready to take you out the moment you spilled your experiences.

-in a way, your fears are confirmed when you meet simon again miles away from the last place you lived. you had moved for this exact reason; you never wanted to see his face for as long as you lived.

-it happens when you're walking alone in the street. you moved to this area specifically because you heard it was quieter and, more importantly, safer. but how much of that could you escape, really?

-your attacker approaches you as you're making your walk home from work, a kind of confidence on his face that makes the common individual want to roll their eyes.

-"what's a sweet thing like you doing out alone at night, huh?" he asks, his footsteps staggered like he's had one too many drinks.

-you give him the usual speel of, "oh, my friends are waiting for me... yeah, i've got a boyfriend. haha, i'm okay, no need to accompany me, thanks."

-your soft attempts at rejection only seem to agitate him, because next thing you know he's stepping toward you and putting a hand on your arm with a bone-crushing grip.

-"c'mon jus' let me-"

-his voice is cut off by the sound of a loud thud and the stranger's yelp of pain. it takes you a second, but you realize the defense on your behalf came from beside you.

-oh, thank god.

-you and your now injured attacker now adjust your gazes to sit on the silent newcomer. just like that, your settled sense of dread has come back and increased tenfold.

-there he was, with that stupid mask over his face and his hands curled into fists for preparation of what he was going to do next if the man didn't scurry off.

-"you'll leave," he says darkly under subtle pants, as if he ran before coming to your rescue. "if you know what's good for you."

-the stranger wastes no time in running off into the night, leaving you with your worst nightmare.

-for a while, you both stare at each other like you can't believe the other is real. it takes everything in you not to cry or beg him for answers. no, after everything you worked for, you're not going to throw away everything you built in the past few years to recover from him just to throw it all away now... right?

-"why are you here?" you ask coldly. "come to finish the job?"

-although your eyes were icy and your questions came with a rigid tone, there was genuine fear in your question. what if the soldier that untied you wasn't supposed to? what if you were supposed to be dead all those years ago?

-"no. never."

-even though he knows the reason why, his heart still hurts at the thought of you believing he'd just up and kill you like that.

-"really? that's rich," you scoff, except you're terrible at hiding the tremble in your breath and the tremors traveling through your body.

-spotting your growing fear, he scrambles for something, anything, to make you fear him less.

-"i was worried, that's all. after that night," he pauses, eventually deciding to skip the details of what he did to your father. "i didn't know where you went. thought i could just get over it, but i guess i just knew i needed to check in on you just in case."

-you resist the urge to roll you eyes. "right. you're back again to 'check in on me'? to come back and meddle in my life again?" you're struggling to keep your tears back as they form in your eyes. "you've already taken so much. how selfish can you be?"

-he stares at you for a moment before slipping his hand into his pocket and taking out a gold watch that belonged to your dad.

-"i'm sorry about your father, but you have to understand that he-"

-"not that, simon. it was never that," you push his hand away and the offer that came with it. his eyes became confused. "i mean you. it's always been you. you just come into my life telling me you love me, that you want to be with me so much and then just take that all away? and you never even bothered to tell me it was a lie, just let me get tied up by some stranger to be left alone and scared!"

-there's a new look in simon's eyes at your words, but it's hard to decipher them from behind the mask.

-"it wasn't a lie," he says slowly, lowering the hand with the watch in it back to his side.

-"oh, please." the trembling has not died down in the slightest. "i bet you're still mad that worker of yours took pity on me and let me leave before you could do anything about it. like i said, back to finish the job."

-your eyes are now trained on the ground. there was a conflicted feeling in your body at the moment. on one hand, this was the man that let you get tied up and left in a car while he "handled" your father. on the other, this was the man you loved. the one who was kind to your ever desire, who always understood you in ways you never knew possible.

-"i told them to let you go," he finally manages.

-"what?"

"i..." he hesitates. "i told my captain that if i was going to give them your father's location, they were to let you go no questions asked when the whole ordeal was over with." and it was true. he hated even imagining poor you, being interrogated by his colleagues in an isolated, barren room. you had been through enough.

-and even if you had been a part of your father's scheme, there was a part of simon that loved you too much to care (though he'd never admit it to himself).

-it was a good thing price trusted his judgment. he didn't know what he would've done had he said no.

-the tears are now streaming down your face and you can do nothing to stop it. it all felt like so much. you were so, so confused. if he did love you, why did you feel this way? how much of this could you trust?

-cautiously, he goes to wipe the tears away from your face, murmuring a quiet, "hate it when you cry." for a second, it was a familiar feeling. you felt like you were back in your shared flat with simon while having a breakdown over life's struggles. in moments like those, you never would have expectated that life's struggles could take the form of simon himself.

-you can't help but lean into his touch. maybe you were insane for allowing him to touch you like this, but you wanted nothing more than to let him into your life again. the resolve you worked so hard to build was crumbling away the longer you spent with him.

-"the reason it took so long for me to find you..." he's holding your face in his hands, now. "for so long, i thought i ought to leave you alone. i know i should. i wasn't lying about when i said i was worried if you were still alive, but," he swallows the lump in his throat before continuing. "i also miss you. 'nd i know, 's incredibly selfish of me after everything i've done to you, but i can't help it."

-one of his hands leaves your face to slide the mask and balaclava off his face. there he was again, his aged brown eyes and soft jawline, the sides of his face littered with small scars you still remember to this day.

-"i'll make it up to you," he whispers. "anything you ask, i'll answer. about my past, your father, anything. you ask me to get you something, i'll have it for you wrapped all nice 'nd pretty. hell, i'll get on my knees and pray to you if you order me to, love."

-it was like your nightmare turned into a fantasy, having him here begging for your forgiveness.

-"anything you want, i want to give to you. jus' let me be a little selfish, too."

-you bite your lip as you think it over. you know the correct answer would be a clear, hard no, but you can't bring yourself to do it. not after all those nights wishing he was encasing you in his arms again, whispering all the things he adored about you as you drifted off into sleep.

-as much as you shouldn't be believing him, you do.

-"...anything?" you ask hesitantly, and it takes everything in simon not to pull you in close and never let go.

-again. no, he needs to be sure he won't scare you off again.

-"anything," he promises, fingertips tracing the edge of your jawline.

-"okay," you agree, the tears finally having stopped flowing. happiness does not even begin to describe what simon was feeling. "for starters, you can walk me home."

-with the watch long forgotten and broken on the edge of the sidewalk, he holds your face for a bit longer before letting go. eventually, he offers his arm to you and you take it.

-there's a part of him that mourns the years lost that he could've had with you. maybe, if he came to you sooner, he wouldn't have to be so careful about being around you, now. but, no, these were the consequences of his actions.

-at the very least, you were still giving him a second chance, and he was intent on not fucking it up this time.

[roses-and-revolutions]

Not Blue, Black

Everyone always assumes that Danny's eyes are blue. He’s shown pictures of his family before and his dad’s eyes are blue, and so are his twin brother’s and his daughter’s, and his big sister’s. So his must be too! Well, his mom seemed to have this weird purple thing going on so no one was too sure. And no one seemed to care either way, especially not Danny. Besides, why would anyone care about eye color when they had such an amazing young man working alongside them?

Danny was the perfect intern. He’s always on time, never giving trouble, always giving helpful suggestions, and good at not only his job but everyone else’s too, making it handy to have him around the office. He was also the workplace hottie, with many guys and girls hovering around him, desperately trying to make him theirs despite him announcing himself happily married the first day he got here. (Everyone knew who his husband and wife were since he couldn’t help but show them off every chance he got. Everyone knows they’ve got no chance, but one can dream.)

He also seems to light up just about whatever room he happens to be in. Just his presence alone made even their shittiest days in the office seem like just tiny inconveniences in the eyes of the universe. Unless he himself was pissed, which didn’t happen too often. But when he was, everyone felt it and knew to avoid him like the plague. But, other than that, Danny was an all-around good guy and was for sure going to get the job after he graduated from Gotham U. 

You, on the other hand, weren’t too sure about your position in the company, as you were Danny’s antithesis, everything he was not. You were always late for reasons no one cared to understand. Just about every issue in the office was pinned on you whether you were involved or not. You couldn’t ever think about helpful suggestions and just rode off the backs of others. And compared to everyone else's good looks, you were the workplace monster. 

You had a scar on your face and body you got as a kid. You got it in an accident and it deformed your right side quite a bit. It was challenging to adjust to yes, but over time you learned to live with and accept it. Others not so much. The stares you got almost daily, from everyone in the office to school, even random strangers on the street. All of them made you feel scared and sick. Like you wanted to dig off your skin and rip off your flesh and replace it all with something newer, better, more normal. But you couldn’t and had to live like this for the rest of your life. You had to live with the stares for the rest of your life.

Your only saving grace was this job, the one you were assigned to when you first got the internship. You were awful at it at first, resulting in many scoldings from the manager. But throughout the year you were here at this company, you dedicated your time and effort to be good at at least this one thing. And now you were proud to say that you were damn good at it. The best even! So good in fact that everyone decided that they would drop their workload onto you and let you handle it even if it meant extremely late nights at the office.

And that’s how you got to be here, on the company roof at 1 a.m., debating whether or not going home to actually sleep and eat would be worth the scolding you would get from the manager when you arrive to work ‘late’ again..., among other things.

You know having these kinds of thoughts was bad for your mental health (your therapist grilled it into you every time you even mentioned them to her), but it was freeing in a sick sort of way every time you thought of each scenario that could play out if you just-

“Hey!”

Jumping back to your senses, you turned around and saw none other than Danny Fenton standing right behind you. You two were never all that close in proximity before now so you only knew that he was big. You weren’t expecting the absolute unit that was standing behind you. You knew you were short but having to crane your neck to look at his face only put shit into perspective.

“Another late night?”

You only nod dumbly as he moves from behind to stand next to you, looking down at the bustling city below. A deep sigh came from him as he pulled a candy from his back pocket and popped it into his mouth. He was always eating candy. Did he have low blood sugar or just a sweet tooth?

“Same. It’s like we can never go home, huh?”

You couldn’t help but laugh at Mr. Perfect’s suffering just a bit until you realized what he meant. You scoffed and rolled your eyes. 

“Come on Fenton, just because you’ve done a few late nights doesn’t mean you ‘never get to go home’.”

You settled next to him, also looking down on the city as well. He was on his phone now, the blue light illuminating his features.

“She really never sleeps does she?”  He says laughing to himself.

You were kinda pissed off now. Who was he, Mr. Perfect Intern, Daniel Fenton, to compare his suffering to yours? You practically lived at this job now, once you weren’t busy with school or something else! You even bet that after this he’s gonna go home to his nice apartment and be met by a wrapped-up dinner on the table made by either his husband or wife. (HE HAS A FREAKING HUSBAND AND WIFE FOR FUCKS SAKE!) He was probably talking about his little girl just now, and how she’s up waiting for him. Maybe she was half asleep on the couch with the TV on since she was so determined to see her Dad come home. It’s Friday after all of course she’d get to stay up way past her bedtime. He’s gonna get a hot bath and wash off dirt and grim of work, and-

Danny’s laugh was low and deep, rumbling through the air, sending chills down your spine. He turned to you and smiled his pearly whites glimmer-  Wait were those fangs?

“Dude you know you mumble out loud… right?”

There was silence between you two until a bright red crept up your neck, and ever so slowly engulfed your face. Shame flooded your entire being as you cradled your face in your hands. You sighed, feeling like more air wanted to come out but your very human lungs were empty and in need of oxygen. So sucking in a breath, you looked him in the face (why can't you see his eyes?). He was still smiling, his fangs (he has freaking fangs how had you never noticed before!) poking his bottom lips making little dimples.

“I’m so sorry, I’ve been stuck here for three days doing everyone else's work. I haven’t slept or eaten or taken a shower. I-”

“I know, I know. You’ve been busting your ass for a while now so of course you’d be grumpy.”

You don’t think grumpy is the word you’d use but it was close enough. 

“So how long have you been here Fenton?”

“A week.” He replied cooly, popping yet another sweet in his mouth. (Okay he needed to stop, at this rate, diabetes would be the next one to put a ring on his finger) But you were surprised nonetheless.

You’re sure you would’ve noticed if he was here for the entire week. He must have been playing games with you.

“Am not.”

Okay, you needed to stop thinking out loud.

“Look, just trust and believe that if I didn’t want you to notice me, you wouldn’t have. But I did so…” He shrugged and looked off into the distance once more.

You think that what he said is impossible, everyone notices Danny Fenton. But the office was pretty small compared to bigger companies. And if he really was there for the entire week you should have noticed him at some point of the three days you were here. You didn’t hear him coming up behind you a few moments ago either. So maybe there is some merit to his words.

“What’s got you here for so long anyways Fenton?”

He sighed, his face looking more tired than before. 

“You know the project that my group has, the one we got two months ago?” You nod and he continues, 

“Well, it was fine at first. Everyone was pulling their weight, excited to get it done. But then it started, again, with ‘Hey Danny, I’ve got something important to do this afternoon, can you finish this for me?’. Then, ‘Danny I'm not coming in today, do this for me? Thanks!’. And ‘Hey, Danny’s good at this let him do it!’. ‘Danny I need help! Wait no…, I actually meant that I want you to do this for me.’ 

Danny’ll do this, Danny can do that, don’t worry Danny’s on it! Danny, you’ll finish the project… right?

That along with the other workloads that are trusted upon me by the managers and other employees, ON TOP OF MY OWN ASSINGED WORK!”

By the time he was done, you had already recognized that voice all too well. Danny was struggling, right on the edge of his line, using the shirt on his back the make just a little more. Danny was breaking and just barely holding it together, just like you were. You never realized it before, but you notice now that, Danny’s fucking tired. Just like you.

A wet laugh broke your train of thought. His face was a bit wet, his eyes (?) red from held-back tears.

“People think that I’ve got no flaws-” A pang of guilt shoots through you as you were one of those people, “- but I do. Metric shit ton in fact. One of them is that I can’t help but to help people, even if it’s detrimental to myself. And if my sister finds out about this she’s gonna slap me upside and force me to stay home for a month!”

Another laugh rang through the air, sounding just a bit too crazy for your liking. Even so, you couldn’t help but wonder, you just needed to ask-

“Why are you telling me this?”

His laughter stopped and he turned to look at you. Like really look at you. You realize that Danny’s eyes weren’t blue like you and everyone else were assuming. His eyes were black. So black. Blacker than the night sky and deeper than any ocean. And within those oceans swam thousands of bright lights, each burning 10x brighter than the earth’s own sun! Yet they could never shine through that great abyss. It was beautiful. Danny’s eyes were so beautiful. 

“Because I’m gonna quit.”

“What?” Well, you weren’t expecting that.

“Yeah, I’m going to quit. And as your good friend-” Good friend? Since when!? “-I’m going to advise you to quit as well! I predict that this shabby ass company is gonna collapse in a few months and I DO NOT want to be there for that shit show, doubt you want to be there either.”

You feel conflicted. This is the first time that you and Danny Fenton have actually spoken to each other and after basically trauma dumping on you he tells you to quit! This has to be a prank! Some sick twisted joke!

“It’s not.”

CURSE YOUR BLOODY LIPS!

Danny smiled. He looked noticeably less human now that you could see fangs and eyes, and were his ears always pointy? Dear lord is he a part of the Fae!?

“Close but not quite.” 

At this point, you were pretty sure you weren’t speaking out loud and he was just straight-up reading your mind. He handed you a piece of paper and clasped his hand over yours.

“Just think about it ok? The first one is my number, so just call when you need a friend to talk to. The second is my brother’s, he thinks you’re cute.”

“What?” You look up only to see him gone as if he was never there. Looking back down you expect to see the paper gone too. But it was still there, the flirtatious message next to the second number making the tips of your ears turn red. Once again you remember that, Danny if a fucking giant, one who was now gone without a trace…

“What have I gotten myself into?”

You decided to quit the next day.

Three months later the company ends up in a scandal so bad, that even the bats are investigating it.

You decide to give Danny a call.

All I wanted to do was write a prompt about Danny's eyes... The fuck!?!?!?

[1980shorrorfilm]

sour times

click here. resources for palestine, congo, sudan, and other countries.

btw to the requests in my inbox; i see u. i hear u. 🙏

pairing…jackson!abby x gn!reader x ellie

in which…you confront your not-so-great relationship with abby after she had stolen your best friend from you.

before you read…angst *sigh.* brief sexual content (for the plot!! no smut) you’re kinda mean here but i forgive you. 🫶

“do you like her?” “i don’t…i don’t know…i think so.”

her perfect blonde braid taunts you. you believe this is what hell is, following the lead of abigail anderson while the biting wind howls around you, snowflakes hitting your tender skin. 

the landscape is a winter wonderland, but you can’t seem to enjoy it in this state. perhaps if you were in the comfort of your bedroom, hot chocolate in your hand, and ellie williams by your side, you’d be in heaven. but that’s not even achievable these days. her time is spent with abby, the two in the woman’s garage, doing whatever when you’re not around, and you never are. 

it’s torturous to be the third. you had ellie first, your first real friend in the small town. you weren’t hers, cat had that blessing. but regardless, it appeared no one could even crack the bond you two had. and then she came along.

strolling into jackson like a puppy with eyes that resembled a stormy sea, her long hair adorned in a neat fishtail braid. she was sweet, but not in the naive way. she stood her ground when challenged, she showed her strength when needed, and she proved just how valuable she was to your community.

she also had a face you could admire for days, like some goddess one would worship many lifetimes ago. tan freckles scatter across her nose like lilies in a field, compared to ellie’s that are like stars in a busy midnight sky. they make their way down to her chest, sprinkled on her shoulders, and dancing over her biceps— her fucking biceps. god. abby was just fucking perfect. it aggravates you.

maybe that’s why ellie took a liking to her so rapidly. you get it— you hate it. and last night, you couldn’t help but ask your friend about their relationship, asking the auburn-haired woman if it was a crush. such a silly word, you had thought as it left your mouth. ellie even laughed quietly at it, avoiding an answer. then, you had asked again, ‘do you like her?’ 

and ellie had answered after hesitation, ‘i think so.’

i think so. jealousy coursed through your veins at the simple and uncertain answer; but you cannot pinpoint why, exactly. you never thought you liked ellie in that way. there was no doubt she was attractive, ellie happens to own that word, but your friendship was simply that. 

a friendship. no delving into romantic territory besides some lingering touches and a bit too deep all-nighters. there was nothing that made you yearn for her, when you already had her in such proximity to you, at your very fingertips. abby did a good job fucking that up, though. 

so you sat there, like a void was sucking you up at her answer. the idea of them…being a thing…sent chills down your spine. a nightmare possibly becoming a reality, if the feelings are mutual. and that scares you even more, abby finding herself enamored by ellie. somehow spending even more time with her than she already does. spending nights and mornings in her bed. it was all wrong. 

something that has yet to happen, already terrorizing you. it just can’t happen.

abby slows down her horse to walk beside you rather than in front of you, “you’re quiet…something wrong?”

you meet her eyes, legitimate concern within them. you were never the most talkative with her, but abby isn’t stupid and the tension in the air is almost as painful as the harsh weather you’re enduring. she wonders if she’s the cause of it. 

did she forget to wish you a good morning at the stables, something she did every single patrol? give you the wrong impression when she stared at you, utterly captivated by you? make you feel weak when she pulled an infected off of you, hands wandering your body making sure you were okay?

you answer her bluntly, “no.”

she tries again, “you can tell me if i did something…”

“you didn’t,” you insist, and surprisingly, it’s only a half lie. it’s the conversation with ellie that’s hanging over you like a dark cloud, and abby happens to be the focal point of it. 

abby seems to accept your response, for now, and tears her eyes off you. the wind has managed to pick up, and the horses are growing slower as they trudge through the snow. 

“that house up there,” abby motions with her head, a red house amongst the beige ones that surround it, “let’s hold up there.”

a stubborn part of you wants to tell her that she can wait there, and you will continue home. but you’re not a moron, and you don’t exactly feel like dying today, as much as ellie tempted you with the morbid idea. you’re freezing and crave shelter, even if that means being stuck another hour or so with abby. 

you follow abby to the home, waiting on your horse as she hops off hers, lifting the garage door for you to enter. when you do, there’s immediate relief in your body, abby behind you whispering sweet words to her horse, stroking the golden fur as she does so. it’s, unfortunately, cute. you keep your smile to yourself, patting your own horse when you get off her, then reaching for your gun before entering the home. 

“wait.” you pause and look back at abby, who walks in front of you, taking the lead yet again. an innocent yet condescending action that irks you deeply, watching the woman quietly slip past the wooden door, scanning the area for any sort of threat. 

you’re not as quiet when you follow behind her, stepping on some wrapper that crackles beneath your shoe, abby eyeing you like you spit on her. you brush it off, “i’ll check upstairs.”

“i’ll go with you.” “jesus— i don’t want you to.”

your sharp tongue takes her back, but there’s no anger in her eyes, it’s that same concern from moments ago. it makes you feel bad, but instead of apologizing, you leave her there, going upstairs like you said you would.

the old stairs creak with each quick step that you take, you forget the purpose of you coming up here. you just wanted to get away from her. that’s the reason why you’re immediately against a wall, snarling in your ear from a rotten corpse trying to bite it off. 

you resist, holding it at an arm's length away with one hand, the other reaching in your pocket for your pocket knife. your hands are cold and shaky, dropping it the moment you pull it out, when the splatter of blood meets your face. the thing is dead, falling before you, eyes meeting hers.

“a-are you—” “i’m fine,” you say coldly, bumping your shoulder with hers when you take a step forward and continue on. abby is really fucking confused, remaining frozen in the hall, staring at the dead infected at her feet. her eyes trail to your pocket knife, then back to you. 

you push open bedroom doors as you pass them, hardly searching them for any more infected. you assume if they wanted to, they’d attack you right then and there, and maybe if you’re lucky, a blonde knight in shining armor will save you. she had an annoying habit of doing so. 

“hey,” abby jogs toward you, trapping you in a doorway, “dropped this.”

the metal glimmers in her hands, and you’re quick to take your beauty of a weapon from her. oddly, you’re protective of the inanimate object, a thoughtful gift from ellie herself. the handle is a dulled shade of your favorite color, and the blade is a bit rusted, but that doesn’t bother you. “thanks,” you mumble, waiting for her to move. she doesn’t.

“wanna tell me why you’re acting like this?” “like what?”

“like that.” “what’s that?”

abby blinks at you, and you remain unfazed. you can tell her calm demeanor is deteriorating before you, patience running thin. “what did i do to you?” she asks, “since i showed up in jackson…it’s like you hate me.”

ouch. the words sting you more than her, and you cannot blame her for believing in such a thing. what have you done to show her otherwise?

held back smiles when she made kind remarks, generous gestures, and stupid jokes? left her out of conversations, not daring to spare eye contact when it was you, her, and ellie, sitting together? made weak small talk that made her feel like nothing but an acquaintance in town, when she just wanted more? 

you sigh, “i don’t…hate you.”

“you make that really hard to believe,” abby replies, crossing her arms. this close, you examine how the tip of her nose and cheeks are a hue of red from the bitter weather. it almost matches her lips…her lips. you’re watching her lips. you catch yourself, and whatever this is, pushing her away. you swallow the dusty air, fast steps taking you right back downstairs. 

of course, abby is on your trail. “you know we’re stuck here, right?” 

like a flip had been switched, you’re once again snappy with her, “no shit.”

“you confuse me, you know that?”

you pretend to ignore her words, focusing on the fireplace in the living room. there are enough logs to last as you wait out the blizzard, so you tug your backpack off and drop it on the distressed coffee table. you search for your matches, that are always in the first pocket in your bag, but they’re not there. 

you’re trying to remember when you took them out, or if they fucking ran away on their own. it doesn’t matter— abby is already ahead of you, and an orange glow suddenly illuminated the dim room. you turn your head, seeing the obnoxious sly grin on her face. “you’re welcome.”

you don’t thank her. you sit on the worn-out floral sofa a few feet away, eyes boring into the flames that are quick to warm you. “do you want a blanket?” abby offers, which you shake your head at. “you hungry?” again, you respond a ‘no,’ with your head. 

the problem with abby is that she’s genuine. she cares about you even if you have not shown the same worry toward her. and maybe that speaks for you more than abby. 

you don’t notice her reaching in her bag, pulling out some crumpled up gauze, until she sits beside you and reaches for your face. you move away when you feel her touch, furrowing your brows at her. “wanna be stubborn and keep that blood on your pretty face?”

your cool cheeks heat up, hardened appearance softening just slightly, then allowing her to wipe the nasty fluid off. she’s soft as she does so, taking her time, and the opportunity to adore your features at such close proximity. you’d probably give her a scowl if you realized so.

“is it her?”

“what?” “ellie. did she piss you off?”

abby is too observant for your own good. there’s only one…two people in jackson that can invoke such strong emotions from you, even if you hide them poorly. “no…”

“you kinda suck at this lying thing,” abby calls you out, large hand on your cheek, turning it so she can clean up any remaining blood on the other side of your face. “if she did, i could kick her ass.”

the somewhat joke leaves you with a puzzled expression. and then you laugh. “yeah, okay,” your tone is nothing but sarcastic, “like you’d ever take my side over hers.”

“what do you mean?” 

you bite your lip, tearing your eyes off her and into the burning wood. it’s not a loaded question, but it’s a loaded answer. to explain to her that ellie is her priority, as abby is hers, and you’re just there. someone that was kicked to the curb, left for envy to grow on you like poison ivy. 

you keep it short, “you guys are close.”

“well, yeah, we’re friends.” for now, you think, a humorless chuckle quietly escaping your lips. abby catches it, opens her mouth, and immediately shuts it. she finally lets go of your face, tossing the crimson coated gauze on the floor, her pupils still trained on you. the loss of her touch almost bothers you. then she speaks again.

“do you…do you think i like her or something? because we aren’t…anything.”

seconds pass in silence as you debate the question dancing on your tongue, curious if it’s overstepping but more intrigued about the answer. even if it will hurt to hear, you simply need to know. “do you want to be?”

“no, of course not.”

guilt ruins through your veins at the relief that settles in your body, knowing poor ellie would frown at the unrequited feelings. but there’s something else that gives you hope…why the fuck do you have hope? you gulp, “okay.”

“do you like her?” “what?!” “is that what this is about?”

“no— no it’s not, it’s not that.” “then what is it?”

you, honestly, cannot give her a proper response. this isn’t about some stupid nonexistent crush on your friend, yet that would make the most sense for whatever these feelings of resentment are. 

you’re quiet as you try to think of something, and it doesn’t help that her blue-grey eyes are zoning into you, as if she’s trying to peel the complicated layers off of you. she’s trying to understand, she really is, and it painfully makes your heart swell. you truly do get ellie. 

your façade of disinterest is chipping away like the paint on these very walls, her gaze on you making you want to break— to give in —and the moment your eyes fall to her pink lips, you do exactly that. 

you close the space between you two, nearly crawling on the couch and in her lap when you gently grab the sides of her face, kissing her before you even realize that you’re kissing her. it was an urge you couldn’t simply couldn’t resist. and abby welcomes it.

she moves in sync, pushing her lips against yours deeper, surprised when you pull away. the moment hits you at once; you and abby. abby and you. it has your eyes widened and lips parted, searching for something to say. sorry? no…that doesn’t feel right. you’re not sorry. and abby doesn’t want you to apologize, she needs you to keep going.

as if you both read the others mind, you lean into each other, connecting your lips once more.

you think of ellie, what she had told you with such vulnerability, and then you think of abby. abby, who had a intense desire to taste you, and was making that evidently clear. the aftermath of whatever this is, will be dealt with when that time comes.

you swallow the guilt when your tongue mixes with hers, abby tugging you on top of her, gripping your shirt like her life depends on it. her eagerness sends shivers down your spine, more intense than the horrid weather outside ever could to you. 

it feels too good to stop, she feels too good. abby is unbuttoning her jacket, while you’re tugging yours off, the kiss suddenly messy as you’re both failing to multitask. you giggle against her lips when you both manage to do so, her callous hand cradling the back of your neck to draw you closer. if that were possible.

you deepen the kiss, your hands slipping beneath the knit long sleeve shirt she wears. you explore the abs you’ve only ever seen through tight shirts that had you in a daze, not that you would’ve ever admit that to her, though. she attempts to say your name against your lips, her voice weak and breathy.

you pull away and tilt her chin up with your fingers, trailing your lips down her jaw, to the side of her neck. the world outside vanishes as abby loses herself in the sensation of your lips on her neck, sweet kisses that shift to gentle bites.

it’s the tender spots that you suck, that earn hushed whimpers from her. and you make sure to do it over, over, and over again. like a damn vampire, sinking your teeth into her, and marking your territory, when she’s not even yours.

and then you stop, noticing the room was dark. the fire had gone out. “we should— uh,” you climb off of her, the woman catching the breath she seemed to hold still the entire time. 

“yeah…” she agrees, chest rising, licking her lips. 

the wind has calmed down by now, a tolerable ride home that’s extremely quiet, besides the occasional gust of wind. except it’s not awkward the way it was hours prior. you’re exchanging short glances at the other, small smiles when your eyes would meet. 

you make it back to jackson safely, both of you dropping off the horses at the stables, making small talk as you walk home. you’re not talking about what just happened inside that red house, both of you are too shy to bring it up, to ask if that meant anything to the other. 

it truthfully drifts from your mind as abby is explaining a childhood story, until your eyes fall on her. ellie, heading in your direction, toward you two. 

it’s when she gets closer, that her pupils fall to abby’s neck; the pale skin decorated with purple marks, caused by you. she had been so worried about you two, and now, she feels dumb. and hurt.

especially when you just give her a tight-lipped smile, knowing exactly what you have done. and more importantly, that you wanted her to see it.

[zoropookie]

SWEET MELODY

☆ chapter thirteen — arson (🎂)

“Why…” You sobbed to yourself that morning, tone bubbling in your throat as you held your knees close.

The sky lightened and lightened the further the time closed in on dawn. Painted in the hues of soft pastels broke through, kissing the lavender and rose. You sat on the sand in the least high maintenance outfit you could think of that night, and set out to the nearby isolated walkway to the beach near your brother’s house. The problem was that you were there all night, expunging the tears off your face with your sleeves and dealing with the morning chill biting at your skin with no means to an end to your misery. No numb to your inner aching.

Your tears fell freely, soaking into your cheeks, falling onto half-wet sand. Unable to contain the sobs that wracked your body, your heaves and wails muffled into the sleeve of your now ex-boyfriend’s sweater. His sweater clinging onto you like the shore with its heavy mist.

The serenity was blatantly mocking you and comparing to the raging war in your mind. Your brother, on the other hand, thoroughly enjoyed this part of the beach. It’s probably why this was the first place he thought to go to search for you. He loved it, of course, more than you did on a regular basis too. He loved that this was the spot that you, him, and your mother would spend so much time around in the summers because of how little population there was. He loved the miniature sand dollars he would find washed up against one of the rocks sometimes, he’d even find a few anemones to poke and gently prod with his finger until they closed up tightly.

So it came to a more distinguished concern when he sat beside you silently while you sobbed in broken waves. Your breathing turning into heaving with every sniffle and wail. Those same memories Kazuha had enjoyed were slipping through your fingers, just like the sand you clung to.

“I’m sorry,” You choked out, throat sore and voice hoarse as you buried your face in your knees, trying to hide your puffy eyes and tear-stained cheeks. “You didn’t have to check on me…I’ll be okay.”

Kazuha gave you a moment to recollect your words,” There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.” He smiled after replying, hugging his knees together as well as he looked straight at the sea instead of you.

You two learned from a very young age the consolation could be many things to many people, and this was their. Sitting together in silence, meshing with each other’s energy and attempting to heal the other if there was a disturbance. There were hardly any words to exchange other than the obvious, there were no signs of gloating nor false sympathies until one of them wants to discuss how they feel. As for now…people pushing problems on you felt a lot more burdensome than usual.

“My heart hurts.” You shook your head, fresh tears spilling over your face. “I wish I knew what he wanted sooner. I know he was struggling, I wanted to help him, but he just pushed me away and I felt really conflicted! I wanted last night to be perfect, I mean, we were at the festival for the first time since mom died and…and!”

“And you felt like you were talking in front of a locked door?” Kazuha looked at you, to which you hide your face in your arms as you listened. “You don’t know who will stay here with you and who won’t, and that’s okay.”

“I don’t know if I could’ve done more or not.” You drawled, struggling not to just burst into tears again. “Maybe he needed someone, and I was too busy on the one day he wanted to ask for my help.”

Kazuha’s hand reached out, placing a light hand on your back and rubbing it in circles. “The most interesting thing about life is that it never stops, even when you’re having a good time. We’re ignorant to things happening around us with our loved ones…all because we ourselves aren’t feeling necessarily sad enough to address them. That’s not a judgement on our character, but he’s capable of taking care of himself too, just like us.”

You felt ashamed knowing that the only time you had to spend with your brother was during the time that you keep getting curveballs thrown at you. “I don’t know,” You sniffed. “I doubt that we had time to think about ourselves with mom.”

“Mom…didn’t tell us she was getting sicker until it was too late.” He sighed softly, eyes still fixed on the riding sun, but a little more defeated this time. “There were signs, but I guess that just proves my point.”

“I think did what you could…mom is watching us sometimes, too. Sometimes the dreamcatcher she really liked rings when there’s no wind.”

You both sit there in silence, listening to the soft lapping of waves. Talking about mom almost drew you away from the fact that you were in hysterics about your former lover, which made you more sad that you couldn’t have either one. The sky brightened more, pastels giving leeway to the golden warmth of the early morning. It casted a soft glow on everything it touched, and for a split second, it almost felt like this was the peace you needed. With your brother, the one you knew better than anyone.

Kazuha’s hand was still on your back, grounding you from the situation again, but reminding you of the new coming problem that you had school in ten minutes.

“Someday I hope you have the same memories that I do about this place, good or bad.” Kazuha finally said, soft and reflective. “It’s where our happiest moments show up, you’ve made a great connection with it already by yourself. Now you just need to let your own mind come to terms with it.”

You chuckled amidst your full throat. “That’s a little silly…why would I want to keep the bad memories with me if the main goal is to heal?”

He didn’t respond right away, but he tilted his head enough to lean against your shoulder, eyebrows furrowed slightly. “For a reflection, I hope.”

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THERE ARE not many things that can sway your interest ever since the "incident", but in spite of that, you pushed forward. you are now the owner of the biggest bakery chain in your city, consistently seeing couples and catering to them as such. you've been a big host at weddings, events for celebrities, and even a big support for your friends and family. you've even earned yourself a niche following as well by how sweet you are to everybody around you. but, even with your kindness, you don't have a particular spark that keeps you going anymore these days. that is until one of your employees starts suggesting you write love letters to customers who request your services. at first you thought it was a horrible idea that could easily turn into trouble, but that was until you were tasked with writing one to your own (very very famous) ex-boyfriend.

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[thisfeelslike-iykyk]

hiiii i have a request <33 maybe percy x daughter of dionysus reader?

drunk on love ࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ

percy jackson x daughter of dionysus!reader backtrack: “adventure player”, yao chen inspiration: you!

it wasn’t often that demigods at camp half-blood got to relax. you were usually all busy training and dying. but with all the chaos that had been happening recently, you thought you all deserved a break. besides, with the war brewing, you never knew when the last time you ever saw your friends would be. and it sucked to think about that, but it was reality.

so that’s why you and a few other campers were out here, in the middle of the forest, at night. nobody asked how you got the wine, or why it was even there. let’s just say you called in a couple favors with some hermes kids.

you reminded everyone to keep it down. the harpies usually patrolled the beach area, so the forest was generally safe, but you couldn’t take too many chances. to be completely honest, the party was kind of a ruse to get closer to your boyfriend. the two of you couldn’t be too comfortable with each other during the day, under the watchful eye of your dad, dionysus. you weren’t ashamed of percy, and all the campers--and chiron, you were pretty sure--knew you were together. but you weren’t willing to take a chance on your dad.

percy was looking fine as hell, and it was effortless too. his hair was messed up just a little, his smile practically lighting up the whole forest. he met your gaze from all the way across the clearing and smirked a little. you grinned and sent him a sly wink, raising a plastic cup to your lips and taking a sip of the red wine inside. some stray wine dripped from your lips, which you caught with your thumb and sucked off. not breaking eye contact, you quirked an eyebrow at your boyfriend, a little smirk on your face.

percy shook his head, running his hands through his hair. he made his way over to you, alcohol-free because he was responsible like that. (that was such a lie. you figured he just didn’t like alcohol because of his old stepdad and arch nemesis.)

“you’re killing me over here, [name],” percy said with a grin as he reached you. you grinned as he pushed you up against the nearest tree, hands going to your waist immediately. you wrapped your arms around him to hug him close to you, the near empty cup still clutched in your hands.

percy wasted no time in pressing his lips against yours. he tasted faintly of sea salt--he always did--and blue raspberry jolly ranchers. he was your most favorite flavor. you returned his kiss hungrily as his hand slipped under your shirt, gently rubbing circles on your warm skin.

if it was up to you, you would spend all day kissing your boyfriend. unfortunately, that wasn’t up to you. “perce, my dad could see,” you whispered, unconnecting your lips and forcing yourself to keep a clear mind.

“you’re not worried about him finding out about this whole party in general?” he returned in a low voice, tugging your hair teasingly.

“compared to him seeing you and I together? not really, actually.” dionysus would probably have a good laugh seeing this gathering. “he’d probably be proud of me. about the party.” you downed the rest of your wine in one gulp, savoring the taste. of course, being the daughter of the wine god had its perks, one being you could outdrink anybody.

“he hates me enough anyway,” percy muttered. “I swear, babe, you think we’re being all discreet, but he definitely knows. and I don’t have a problem with that, but he definitely knows. you should see the way he looks at me. I might get murdered in my sleep one of these days.”

“don’t say that,” you protested, rolling your eyes. “you’re too important to kill.”

“hmm,” he hummed dismissively, pressing his lips to yours again. “wanna get out of here?” he mumbled against your mouth.

“you know I do.” you held on to your cup--the dryads would never forgive you if you littered--and took percy’s hand in yours. the music and lights of the makeshift party were quickly left behind as percy led you to his cabin. there was always something eerie and lonely about poseidon’s cabin, but you were not about to bring your boyfriend into your cabin; castor and pollux were busy drinking at the party, but they could come back any time.

come dawn, you'd have to sneak out of cabin three. you couldn't risk being seen in percy's cabin--besides being against camp rules, that would cause such a scandal. but for now, you were okay with being a rulebreaker. and who could blame you? you were simply drunk on love.

I’m sorry this took so long to get out! I’ve been bombarded with schoolwork and am sick on top of that. also guys please don’t drink underage

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[hoiststowline]

through smoke

ultra magnus x f!reader

Even in your nightly routine, little stopped the mech from being the protector, even without your knowledge. While there were many sleepless nights per him, partially because he didn't need it as frequently as you, yet mostly because he would work until the repercussions caught up to his internal systems. You'd often wake up to find him knocked out at his desk, materials still in one hand as his entire frame relaxes. 

Magnus had caved into your request in a moment where your pout had ultimately been effective, realizing he was due to recharge two Earth days prior. While often he had to turn down your pleas, not because he wanted to, but because time-sensitive matters had trumped his health, this was a rare instance where he could say yes. He doesn't know if he'll ever get over the way your entire face lights up, a beautiful smile overtakes your face followed by a squeal of happiness that hums from your lips. 

He wants you to always be happy. It is a massive ask, and between the two of you, it's a feat easier said than done, but if something so small can enchant you, it's worth the time lost. 

Approximately three hours into your sleep, Magnus is still wide awake beside you. He's staring up at his berthroom's metal ceiling, servos clasped across his torso, a blank look on his face as he contemplates nothing yet his processor will not halt its rampaging thoughts. There's a lingering question that it should be easy to fall into recharge, but the action will not come willfully. 

You're curled in a ball within your normal spot, above his shoulder just beside his helm. Effortlessly, you capture his attention, turning just slightly to the left to observe your form, when nearly immediately his brow furrows, confusion seeping into his expression. Easily his optics take in your entire figure, baffled by the way your lips mumble incoherent words as sweat gathers at your forehead, but your body trembles as if you were cold. 

It's a scenario he's never found himself in before. Magnus has nothing to compare it to, because typically, you sleep like a statue, and the only relief he had was watching the way your chest rose and fell with steady breaths. This time around, your breathing appeared irregular and hitched, like you were crying. 

"y/n?" His inquiry remains a whisper, moving silently up onto one arm as his body shields you from the rest of the room. The unoccupied servo goes to reach out for you, wanting you to be alright, but the deed is discontinued before it can make contact. You are crying, and something heavy comes to sit within his chassis. 

Ultra Magnus has zero idea what is happening directly in front of him. He has no idea if you are hurt, ill, or both- but there's little he can do with his limited medical expertise. Just as he rapidly contemplates his options, you re-enter reality, sitting up with a start, a palm on your chest as the other grabs fistfuls of your blanket atop your legs. 

There's one awful moment where the only sound is your heavy gasps for air, eyes squinted shut as more tears run rivers down rosy cheeks. Everything in you wants to scream, but you also haven't realized that Magnus is awake, hovering over you with one servo still extended awkwardly. A brief hope washes over you that you'd be able to handle this without waking the poor guy up, knowing that he needed his rest more than anyone else.

As your exhausted eyes blink open, you're disheartened to find a soft cerulean gaze staring down at you with an almost nauseating expression of disquiet. A gasp stumbles forth, hastily wiping the lingering tears away as an apology stumbles out next, shrinking under his regard. 

"What is the matter, y/n?" It's blatant the way he disregards your apology, but to him, it's important to get to the root of your distress first. 

"I had a nightmare, I think." You sniffle, catching his still-extended hand in your peripheral vision. "I'm good." 

Magnus buckles under an imaginary weight, like relief and stupor were fighting for control. "None of what I just observed demonstrates that you are 'good'."

Finally, his servo comes to rest beside your thigh, not quite touching your skin, but close enough that he left the decision in your hands. He's in a transparently uncomfortable position, torso twisted as one hand splayed out behind him as it supports his upper body's weight. His guise is unsettled, a ghost of something more within his features, but you can't find the conveyance properly in your anxious state. 

"Well, it is the first one I've had in a while," You shrug, rolling your shoulders as a sense of safety floods your achy head. "I guess it's the first one I've had since meeting you." 

"First what?" He rumbles, tilting his helm to the right. 

"Nightmare." You repeat, blinking owlishly. "I don't know how I normally behave because no one is usually there to see me."

In turn, Magnus takes two languid blinks, as if he's straining to follow your sentences. "Forgive me, but that word, nightmare- it is lost to me. I cannot find an established translation from your language to mine." 

A laugh bubbles in your throat, but for the sake of the circumstance, you swallow it back down. Nothing about this is funny, and he would certainly scold you for displaying such a reaction, even if it was uncontrollable from within your subconscious. "Oh. I'm sorry, I didn't realize." Recovering, you waste little time in continuing. "It's uh, kinda like...the opposite of a good dream?" 

"Cybertronian's cannot dream." The delivery is comparable to a deadpan, but you know better. "So I am vastly theorizing here, but I take it you were within a state that was not peaceful." 

You free that previously stifled laugh, but it's drier than you imagined. "Good guess, Mags." 

"Are you unwell?" He dips closer, leaning forward until his frame entirely swallows you, digit coming to rest gently atop your thigh. "Do not lie to me, y/n. I will call for Ratchet."

"I'm fine," You drawl, teeth sinking nearly unbearably into your bottom lip. "You look like you're having an existential crisis."

"And what was I to think?" He huffs, slumping just close enough that his lips poise just above your forehead. "I worry, y/n, whether you think it's rational or not." 

"Hey, I didn't say anything about it not being rational," Argued exhaustedly, but meaningfully. "Sorry, that I worried you. I guess from my perspective I always just woke up, I didn't even realize that I thrash around like that." 

When he doesn't answer in turn, you tilt your head backward to try and catch his gaze. Something is resounding within his chassis, a soft hum that lulls the atmosphere into a state of tranquility. "You have nothing to apologize for." A pause, and then he continues. "While Cybertronian's cannot...dream, there is a similar recollection of memories while within recharge."

"Like...bad memories too?" You ask meekly, feeling a pang of guilt as he nods wordlessly. "I hope you can recall good ones too." 

"Certainly." You don't miss the small smile that twitches onto his face-plate. "But to circle back to the original topic, I can understand the feeling of a bad dream. I can only hope that it does not continue to occur."

"Yeah, you and I both." Joking, your fingers reach to swipe under your eyes to brush away the lingering tears, but Magnus' digit beats you to it, cool metal bringing a warmness to your cheeks. "Did I wake you up?" 

His finger remains atop your skin, another cupping your chin as he keeps your gaze to his as if to observe any unspoken words. He does believe you, understanding that you are just fine, but it is also unknown territory to him, not entirely convinced the nightmare transpired out of nowhere. 

"No." Magnus gravels, dipping down an inch further. "I was awake." 

"Why?" You ask, brow furrowing. "You gotta be tired, Mags. If you could have dark circles, they'd be permanent." 

He could brush your uneasiness away with a simple shutdown of the conversation, shushing you to go back to sleep, but it would be futile. "I've got a little too much on my processor." Magnus ex-vents, finally pulling the servo that was supporting his upper body from behind him. At this, he lowers himself to the berth, hand never leaving your cheek as he now faces you on his side. "Do not trouble yourself about it." 

"What's on your mind?" If laughter came more effortlessly to the mech, he's certain one would have followed your query. He likely could have bet money on that one, observing the way your eyes lose some of the glimmers they previously had, replaced with a bit of fret. 

"Did you simply ignore the last part of my sentence? y/n, please-" His breath hitches as your tiny fingers lay atop the back of his servo, appendages warm to the touch. 

You sniffle, shuffling just a bit closer to his face-plate. "Hey, you got to ask me questions, why can't I ask you?" 

"You were the one in distress." He counters, words firm. "My ailments can at least wait until morning." 

"Yeah, you say that, and then when I ask in the morning you'll say: 'Leave it be y/n', and then we'll never get to talk about it." Magnus is heavily amused at your poor attempt to convey his voice, tone dropping in mockery. 

"I do not sound like that." He murmurs, liking the laugh that bursts from your lips. 

"You do, but that's okay. I love you anyway." You roll your shoulders, a comforting action to ease the pain that was starting to ache there. "So, what's up?" 

Love was a word tossed around so simply on your end, but the tone was always different per situation. The way you said it to him was so unique, he's never heard it roll off your tongue to another soul before, and he wishes he could bring himself to say it so casually in return. 

You mean it every time. And though his mumbles of the sentiment are saved for more intimate moments, he supposes those are what you appreciate the most, enjoying the way your whole face flushes and is replaced with a twinge of red color. 

"It's too much to divulge now, y/n." Hair is moved away from your eyes, tucked back behind your ear as he continues. "Perhaps I make a promise to discuss it at a later time?" 

Your eyes move from his to the pinky he has extended your way, a childish yet meaningful gesture of a promise you had taught him. He treats it like a bond forged in fire, the tapping of your pinkies, and you like to keep it that way. You know that he intends to come back to this exchange, whether it be tomorrow or a week from now. 

"Deal, Magnus." Your fingers briefly interlock, a smile working its way to your face. "Try and get some rest though, for real." 

"You too, y/n." The lingering trace of a kiss lands atop your forehead, missing his touch as fast as it goes away. "Good night." 

"Night." His touch never felt more comfortable as you quickly faded back to sleep, blanket soft atop your skin as his optics ultimately fluttered shut. 

[pedroshotwifey]

Trouble in Paradise (Part One)

Pairing: DBF!Joel Miller x f!reader

Word Count: 3.4k

Summary: Of all the things you thought you might be doing on your summer break, falling in love with your father's best friend in Hawaii wasn't one of them.

Tags/Warnings: Nothing crazy yet! Some kind of maybe tension, pet names, talk of Joel knowing reader since she was small, reader has a dad, mom is not mentioned, yadayada

A/N: Hello my friends! I'm terribly sorry I've been away for so long. There have been a lot of...unsavory happenings lately. Want to say sorry in advance because I know this isn't my best writing, but i'm trying to get back into the groove of things. I'm hoping I'll be back to my scheduled programming (TTF, FB, answering requests) by the time this short series is done. Expecting it to be around 3-5 parts. Thank you so much for sticking with me <3

*******

You’ve been laying in your bed blasting your “chill” playlist through your earbuds since you got home from school around five. The last exhausting day of your freshman college year. Lana Del Rey, Cigarettes After Sex, Hozier, and the like have been floating lazily through your head as you watched the sun go down. 

After a long day, you’d hung your head off the foot of your bed, intent to bask in the golden glow of the evening in a baggy T and your underwear until your eyes shut for the night. You were almost asleep when you were interrupted by a sound that didn’t quite go with “Wicked Game”. 

You yank your earbuds out, sitting up on your bed. You don’t remember it getting so dark. Your cracked window allows the late summer breeze in to gently rustle the curtains framing it. Crickets and cicadas chirp loudly outside, creating a symphony to compliment the stars shining through the inky sky. 

“Sweetheart?” 

Your head swivels to look accusingly at your closed door. The name was shouted from the stairway. Definitely your dad.

You roll your eyes but get out of bed. The clock on your nightstand tells you it’s 8:02pm, so he’s probably calling you for dinner. You’ve told him before that it’s easier just to call your cell, but when has he ever listened? You pad to your door, crack it, and shout back. 

“Be down in a minute!”

Getting no response, you can only assume he heard you. You close your door back and pick up the polka-dotted pajama pants crumpled into a pile beside your bed. You tug them on through a yawn, almost tripping a few times before they’re on all the way. 

You check your mirror before heading down. You look sleepy, not like it really matters. Your door creeks as you push it open again and make your way down the stairs. The soft carpet laid in the middle of the hardwood keeping your steps quiet. It’s about halfway to the kitchen that you hear a second voice to your father’s. It sounds vaguely familiar, and your heart skips a beat. Surely it’s not—

You climb down a few more steps and stop in your tracks at the sight of Joel Miller sitting at your dinner table. You haven’t seen him since at least your high school graduation. You’d harbored a small crush on him then, but that had to have been nothing compared to whatever the hell you’re feeling now. Your entire body seems to glow with some mix of embarrassment and surprise. 

You really thought you’d gotten over this silly little crush. Then again, it’s hard to get over something like Joel Miller. High school boyfriends? Sure, no problem. But the classic DILF next door of a best friend your dad has isn’t so easy. He’s been a constant in your childhood, always kind and there for you even when your dad wasn’t. So, in other words, highly inappropriate for you to be so attached to. 

It’s easy to say the years have been kind to him. He’s a few years older than your father, so probably about mid-forties now. He’s started to gray, a fine amount of silver peppered into his mousy brown hair. That beard of his has taken the brunt of it, though. That beard you’ve imagined between your thighs so many times. 

His dark eyes seem to have become kinder thanks to the crow’s feet carefully etched into the corners. He’s wearing his signature T-shirt and worn jeans, his brown leather jacket and work boots likely disposed of near the front door. 

He smirks as his brown eyes fall on your disheveled form, halted on the bottom step. You, in contrast to the god-like figure he’s sporting, must look like an absolute mess. Despite that fact, he looks at you almost in a different way than he used to. More intensely. It makes you resist the urge to squirm. 

“Joel,” you finally manage to choke out. “Hi.” 

Smooth, you think. 

“Hey, trouble,” he returns, light amusement lacing his tone. It makes you nervous, like he’s clocked your little secret. 

He gets up from his seat, and you can tell he’s going for a hug. You shock yourself into action and take the few steps to reach him. He envelops you in his strong arms just like he used to, and you take the opportunity to breathe in his scent. Smokey pine, whiskey, and a hint of mint—just like you remember. 

You’re smiling like an idiot despite yourself as you pull away. Luckily, your dad makes an appearance before you say something embarrassing. 

“Hey, sleeping beauty,” he teases. “You remember my buddy Joel, dontch’a?” 

Joel scoffs before you can answer. “‘Course she remembers me, Scott, known her since she was damn near in diapers.” 

Your dad rolls his eyes. “Well, just to ask,” he argues. 

You shake your head. Same banter between those two for as long as you can remember. They’ve been friends since your dad’s freshman highschool year, and Joel’s senior. Everyone who knows Joel and Scott considers them to be brothers as much as Joel and Tommy.

Cheeks heated, you make your way to the bathroom to freshen up while they’re distracted. You shut the door and comb through your hair with your fingers, straighten your tank top, and wipe away the smudged mascara you didn’t care to wash off earlier. 

When you look half-decent, you wash your hands and walk back to the dining room, choosing to ignore the fact that you just tidied yourself for your dad’s best friend. Totally normal thing to do, right?

Joel is sitting back in the same spot as you found him the first time, your dad in the seat opposite of him. There are three bowls of spaghetti served, one in front of each man, and one beside Joel. You’re not going to complain about that. 

You slide into the seat next to him, flashing him a quick smile when he turns his head to acknowledge you. You swear his gaze lingers for a second, but it’s probably just wishful thinking. 

You look away and dig into your food, zoning out as Joel and your dad talk about work. Joel’s presence beside you fuels your daydreaming, his deep, drawling voice keeping it running. You wish so badly to lean into him, feel the comfort of his embrace. Maybe more. You wish, not for the first time, that he would look at you the way you looked at him. You wish he would—

You jolt when you hear your name in conversation, your spaghetti-filled fork halfway to your mouth. 

“No, I don’t think she’d mind at all, would’ya, honey?” 

Your dad looks expectantly at you. Your eyes dart between him and Joel. 

“Uh, sorry, what?” You ask, your cheeks heating for the second time tonight. 

“Helping Joel out. I know it’s been some years, but it’s just basic stuff. Plus, it’ll be in—” 

“Really, Scott, you don’t have to volunteer her if she don’t want to—” 

“No, no,” you interrupt. “I don’t mind at all.” 

In all honesty, you didn’t think your answer through. You have no idea what you just signed up for. Though, if it’s with Joel, it can’t be too bad. 

“No, really, sweetheart,” Joel interjects. “I wouldn’t wanna have a pretty ‘lil’ thing workin’ away on her summer vacation.”

You turn to look at him, flashing him your sweetest eyes. He called you pretty—you feel like you might explode. “I really don’t mind.” 

He waits for a moment before he clears his throat and turns back to your dad. “Alright then,” he says before taking a sip of his drink. “We leave for Hawaii next Tuesday.” 

You just about choke on your dinner. Your dad laughs. 

“Told you, Joel, she doesn’t listen to a damn thing we say.” 

*****

Hawaii? For two weeks? With Joel? What do you even pack?

You stare at your suitcase, waiting for your closet to help you out and throw something in there. Should you bring sundresses or work clothes? Both, right? Probably both. Maybe more work clothes. You said you’d be helping, after all. But with what? 

God, you should have just paid attention to that damn conversation. 

It’s late Monday night, and you haven’t been able to pick up on enough over-the-phone conversation to get the gist of it. You need to stop being such a wuss and just ask. But that would mean calling Joel. Do you really want to call Joel? 

Well, yes, of course you do. But do you really want to sound awkward around Joel? No, no you don’t. And you know that’s exactly what would be happening over the phone with a man you’ve never talked over the phone with. 

You groan, flopping yourself onto your bed to stare at your ceiling and overthink. You don’t want to overpack, because you don’t want Joel to see that you overpacked. But you also don’t want to underpack, because you don’t want Joel to see that you underpacked, either. This really shouldn’t be that hard. You’re about to get back up, say screw it, and throw a mixture in there, when you hear a knock on your door. 

“Come in,” you call, unmoving.

“Hey, honey,” your dad says as he creeps in. “Just got off the phone with Joel.” 

You sit up at this. “Yeah?” 

“Yeah, he figured you might want some advice on what to pack.” 

Oh thank God. 

“Said he’s gonna be puttin’ you to work, but to bring some pretty clothes if you want. There’s a pool at the place you’ll be workin’ at, and a beach nearby.” 

You nod along, thanking all that is holy that Joel had the idea to give you some input. 

Your dad eyes your empty suitcase and raises a brow in your direction. 

“He’ll be here around 4:00am, so be ready by then.” He looks back at you. “I love you, sweetheart, I’ll see you when you get back.” 

He gives you a hug and closes your door. 

You take Joel’s advice and pack mostly for work—with a few pretty things just in case. 

*****

As expected, Joel’s truck is in your driveway at 4:00am on the dot. You’re in the passenger seat and headed for the airport by 4:03. 

The ride is less tense than you thought it would be, mostly because the two of you are so tired. You’re practically in a coma against the window, the dull classic country music playing quietly from the old truck’s speakers lulling you to sleep. Joel is in about the same mindset, the lazy drumming of his fingers against the wheel the only thing convincing you he’s still awake. 

Buildings pass in a dark blur, everything mushed together into one big half-dream. Joel’s scent fills the cab, sealing the state you’re in. You glance at the clock: 4:48. You blink, and it’s 5:20, the truck is stopped at the airport, and Joel is gently nudging you awake. You squint at him, the cab light rudely intruding, and you can just barely make out the faint smile on his lips. You have a strong urge to lean forward and kiss him, but thankfully you’re conscious enough to not make a complete fool of yourself right now. 

“C’mon, darlin’, we got a plane to catch.” 

You nod, trying to get your bearings. Joel slides out of his side of the truck, and you follow out of yours, getting a good stretch in before leaning back into the cab and retrieving your suitcase from the narrow backseat. When you make your way around the truck to Joel, he gently grabs it from your hand. 

You look at him, mouth open and ready to argue, but he gives you a look that makes you shut it just as quick. Your stomach flutters at the gesture, and you kind of want to slap him for it. Or maybe yourself. Either way, you keep close to him until you’re entering through the sliding doors out front. 

It only takes about an hour to get through TSA and in line to board the plane, but you’re wide awake by then. And hungry. 

“Hey Joel,” you whisper. He hums at you but doesn’t look down. 

“I’m hungry.” 

Now he looks at you. “I don’t think we got time to grab anything now, darlin’, but we should have a layover at LAX in about three hours. Think you can hold tight ‘till then?” 

You nod, trying not to overthink the conversation. It was literally a few words exchanged between the two of you, but it might be the first time you’ve conversed alone outside of your dad’s house. It felt domestic to you in a way that makes you feel like an idiot. It was one conversation. 

Of course, you have to ruin the moment by humming “Party in the USA”. I mean, it’s Joel’s fault. He was the one to mention LAX. 

He laughs and nudges you. “Quit that,” he commands, though you can tell he thinks it’s funny. You giggle but indulge him. 

“Fine,” you draw out. “Somebody hates fun.” 

He scoffs another laugh, but says nothing. 

Finally, the two of you are next to board. You stop around the middle of the plane, and Joel hoists your bags into the compartment above your seats. Then, he moves aside to let you in first. 

“By the window, darlin’,” he says.

You smile with excitement and settle in, Joel sitting next to you a second later. 

“Your dad said somethin’ about it bein’ your first time flyin’, so I figured you might want a window seat,” he explains. 

Your heart warms at this. Why does he have to be so thoughtful? 

“Thank you, Joel,” you say genuinely, flashing him a smile. It may be the lighting, but you swear you see his cheeks pink up just a little before he nods and faces forward. 

The flight goes by relatively quickly. Joel does some sort of paperwork on the little desk in front of him, and you pop your earbuds in and listen to a downloaded playlist while you read. The light romance you chose was cute, but it failed to distract you completely from the hunk of man beside you. 

You’re not sure how many times you caught yourself staring at the flex of his wrist as he wrote whatever down. It was maybe once or twice that your eyes found their way up to his bicep, possibly a few times that they landed on his lower lip, his teeth bitten into it in concentration. You definitely got heated more times than you would’ve liked. And as your book started heating as well, you had to put it down. You really hope it’s not just you that feels this new tension.

For the last twenty minutes or so, you’ve been looking out the window, content to listen to your music and watch the land go by. For the last five, you’ve felt Joel’s eyes on you. You refuse to look back at him, though, just in case it’s your imagination. 

But you swear you can feel the weight of his stare. You fidget, trying to ignore the feeling as you stare out the window and at the clouds. Then you hear a sharp sound from the speakers 

through your earbuds. 

You take them off and look back at Joel as the pilot informs you that you should be landing in about ten minutes. 

He was staring at you, and he didn’t look away. You don’t look away now, either. You don’t say anything.

“Thank you for comin’ with me, darlin’.” 

You’re taken aback. Of course you would go with him. 

“It’s no problem, Joel,” you say. He gives you a short smile. “I mean, really,” you joke. “You’re the one taking me on a free vacation.” 

He smiles fully this time and rolls his eyes. He tends to do that a lot with you. It makes you smile too. 

The speaker dings again:

“Should be some light turbulence, but we’ll be on the ground soon, folks.” 

Joel looks away after the announcement, gathering his work to put back into his bag. You shake yourself off and choose not to acknowledge whatever the hell that was. 

******

You knew LAX would be busy, but. Holy shit. This place is insane. 

You keep close to Joel as he navigates the two of you through the crowds and to your next gate. He keeps slightly in front of you, and you keep getting the urge to grab his hand to keep up, but you don’t. You don’t think you’ve ever seen this many people in one place—and you thought the Austin airport had been overwhelming. 

There are a million shops and restaurants and gates as you make your way down the massive hallways, up and down the escalators, and through trains. It takes an hour and fifteen before you can even see the sign for your gate. Your legs hurt from walking, and your head hurts from all the noise. 

You keep an eye on some of the closer restaurants you pass so that you can backtrack to them and grab a bagel or something before you have to get on your plane. You catch a glimpse of a Burger King when you’re suddenly slammed into. 

You gasp as you’re sent flying onto your ass by a man who couldn’t be bothered to glance your way to see if you’re alright. Joel whips around and sets the bags down, quickly helping you up. 

“Shit, are you alright, darlin’?” he asks, a deep concern in his eyes. Your cheeks are burning with embarrassment even though it wasn’t your fault. 

“Yeah, I’m okay.” 

Joel looks you up and down to make sure as you stand on your own two feet. He turns around, trying to scope out the man who bumped into you, and turns back when he finds that he’s long gone. 

“I’m sorry, honey,” he finally says. “People don’t give a rat’s ass here.” 

You nod, smiling at his choice of words. “I’m alright, Joel.” 

He sighs and picks his bag back up, slinging the large weight over his shoulder, and then picks your suitcase up in one hand. WIth the other, he grabs onto yours. His hand is rough but warm and comforting. 

“Just stay close ‘till we get to the gate.”

Practically glowing, you hold onto him and let him lead the way. It only takes a few more minutes before he’s telling you to sit down at the waiting area. 

“I’m gonna grab you somethin’ to eat, ‘nd I’ll be right back.” 

You decide to read while he’s on his errand, picking your book back up to a particularly smutty part. You’re not going to pretend like you aren’t picturing the characters as you and Joel as he eats her out on a countertop. You bite your lip, consuming each word with fervor.

You’re just finishing the chapter when Joel strolls up with two breakfast sandwiches, a coffee, and an orange juice. He hands you a sandwich and the latter drink, and takes the seat next to you with a groan. 

“Probably have at least thirty minutes,” he grumbles. 

You nod as you thank him and unwrap your sandwich. It’s silent for a few minutes, before you can’t bear it and break the peace. 

“What all are we going to be doing?” 

Joel looks at you, almost flustered. He must have misheard you. “Huh?” 

“Like when we get there, what are we going to be working on?” 

“Oh, uh,” he clears his throat and takes a sip of his coffee. “Mostly flooring ‘nd some drywall, but there should be somethin’ to do in the kitchen if I’m hearin’ right.” 

You nod and take a bite of your sandwich. Joel continues. 

“Should have a few days to relax, though, if we get everythin’ done in time.” 

Your stomach flips at the thought. A few days to relax with Joel. 

“Sounds easy enough,” you say. 

Joel nods again. “Atta girl.”

“Flight 332 is ready to begin boarding.” 

You and Joel take the last bites of your sandwich in silence and stand up to get in line once again. This flight is going to be longer, about six hours. 

Joel throws your trash away and comes back to grab your bags. Same as last time, you have a seat by the window. Not like it matters much in the long run, because just after Joel takes his seat and the plane takes off, your head falls onto his shoulder, and you promptly fall asleep. 

******

Thank you for reading!! Part two should be coming soon.

Itty bitty mini taglist: @callachloe @kewwrites @casa-boiardi @pastawench (love you guys)

Pls let me know if you would like to be tagged in pt. 2!

[popponn]

from the roots, to the blooms.

prologue: the inciting incident & the first naration.

— a beginning from both parts.

— sae and you, who have stood beside each other for a long time. sae and you, who keep many thoughts away from each other.

tags: sfw; angst with happy ending; fluffs; post canon—hanahaki au; depiction of illness (coughing), blood, etc.; childhood friends & best friends; pinning; it gets worse before it gets better; cohabitation & domesticity; emotional constipation. wc: 933.

masterlist. ; next

— ■■■■■ and the inciting incident, the flowers.

When Sae coughs up the first petal out of his throat, he wonders if this would be his death sentence.

They are purple, dressed and decorated with the maroon coating of blood, staring at him as they lay on the bottom of the white sink. Sae can't put a name to that flower, but he is not dumb. He knows who they are for.

Sae remembers you, who just visited him last night through a phone call—a childhood friend, a friend he somehow manages to keep through these years, despite everything that has happened—talking about stories and movies made out of morons with their unrequited feelings. Sae scoffed at them, telling you that should have spent your time doing something better than turning yourself into a mindless audience for such nonsense. You chided him then, jokingly saying that someone with only soccer in his head of course would have a hard time understanding such a thing.

It is so funny how it all turned out now.

Itoshi Sae, twenty-four and at the height of his career, stares at his own reflection in the mirror. The room feels smaller and dingy even without anything changing. The marble walls around him felt similar to a caging rib. In the background of his head, the sound of your laugh is as nostalgic as it is suffocating.

In the forefront of it is everything he manages to get and steal back—the raucous sounds of cheers, the swishing of the winning goal against the net, and that brittle yet slowly healing brotherhood of his—

The answer is obvious. The cost of each choice is clear. Sae knows what he should do. A nonsensical nonsense compared to everything he has. And yet.

In the eyes of his reflection, he finds no conviction to take away every feeling he has for you despite knowing the price for it.

A feeling found its weight inside him, weighing itself far heavier than the boulder that pushed against his chest as he coughed up the second petal and more. Sae doesn’t try to put a name on it. He takes in the burning pain that claws its way out from his chest to his throat and stares vacantly at the flowers.

Hydrangea and violets, later, he learns.

On their own, they feel like a penitence.

— the narration, the belief, spoken by ●●●●●.

Itoshi Sae is an odd person who is very cold and distant, yet undeniably beautiful. Looking at him, you could describe him as if he is a masterpiece, a constellation, and a lone figure that is carved in near perfection. It is difficult—most of the time, as your experience had taught you—but, despite it all, anyone could know him, anyone could understand him.

However, putting one’s self in the same pedestal as him would be a whole different story to tell. It isn't impossible. Rin and many others had proven that it was not impossible.

But, to you, you had since long accepted that it would be impossible for you.

Sae, at nine, had been far more excellent than you could ever hope to be. Surrounded and drowned in praises from adults, scoffing at your childish amusement towards space and seas and flowers. Hands wrapping around his little brother’s and around trophies with nonchalance, whilst yours were still holding to pencils and report cards.

Sae, at fourteen, had placed himself in a distance far enough that you had nearly lost him. Sparse conversations and long silence filled with formal, stiff wording from the news about him. Going through it all, it was probably a miracle you could still have a part in his life afterward.

Then, Sae, at twenty-four. Reaching a height and a place that you could have never fathom to imagine. Even a brighter star than before, whilst you watch his rise to glory from the audience’s seat. It isn't a bad thing. There is no bitterness of envy or such in you. In fact, you are very happy for him.

Sae is a hard worker. Sae is hard on himself. Sae deserves all of his successes more than anyone in this world—in a very simple and affectionate manner, that is your feelings towards him through all these years. It is light and ever-present, one that is accompanied by laughs and claps reserved for your childhood friend.

You have always observed him merrily. An odd fondness and sense of companionship grew as Sae let you slot your very mundane self beside his very exceptional self. In each moment he let you witness, the more it is hammered down to you that you are a rare spectator to the birth of something that will exist far beyond you.

Put simply, perhaps, that is how from the very start, you know what your role entails. Perhaps, the reason you are able to stay by his side through all these years because you understand this.

You are simply being conscious of the difference between the two of you. After all, there are no poets who speak of the gods in a way that equates themselves with the celestials. They are different enough for whatever fondness between them to have a natural boundaries on its own without any of them having to put an effort on it.

You are Itoshi Sae’s friend.

You are Itoshi Sae’s spectator.

You are a company that stands behind the line neither you nor Itoshi Sae could ever cross.

Put simply, perhaps, that was why from the very start, it was impossible for you to fall in love with Itoshi Sae.

masterlist. ; next

notes: my dream was to write a sae angst, so here we are. i hope i did good & also you enjoyed this prologue ʚ(˶•-•˶)ɞ ❀ to my baeby @doobea thank you so much for beta-ing this. i was so nervous publishing this you helped this ol me's confidence a lot ;;;;;; to everyone who supported the masterlist post too, thank you;; in the next chapter these the story of these two will start, along with the specific details of such and such. i hope you will look forward to it. nonetheless, once again, thank you for reading! :> if you would give me your feedback, i would be very happy ヾ(´⌣`)ノ have a nice day!

taglist ♡ : @wooasecret @lectris00 @natsukicookies @aluvslink @weirdbutpr3tty @vollereix @raphsimp @scaraslover

please do contact me in case you wanna be added or taken out ouf the taglist ♡ thank you for joining in! :>

[remembrancer-of-heresy]

The Eternal Night (Part 1)

Summary: You ask for protection from the Night Lord in the hope of being saved from other space marines. Not realizing that you yourself walked into a mousetrap.

Jago Sevatarion/fem!Reader

Warnings: yandere, power imbalance, violence, body horror, torture, predator/prey

Word count: 2560

Song: She Wants Revenge - Out Of Control

But then she noticed me glance at her I had no choice but to dance with her

The funny thing is that mothiir just recently released headcanons about the first captain. Today is Sevatar's day.

The very thought of serving on a Night Lords ship was terrifying. Many remembrancers chose Fulgrim or Horus Lupercal. Some ventured to the Conqueror. But as your lady noted, only the bravest and courageous are ready to board the Nightfall.

Stupid and naive, you wanted to tell her. But your mistress was too self-confident, too spoiled to listen to anyone. She justified her reckless action by arguing that the Night Lords were still Astartes, the Space Marines of the Imperium. And you…

What are you? You were her personal maid. You weren't supposed to have an opinion. You kind of missed freedom. But is it better to be a healthy serf than a hungry child? You are already lucky that her kind family took you into their home.

But while cleaning the mistress’s room on Nightfall, you want to return to the depths of poverty. It was dark here. Cold. And scary. No matter how much you smelled the chlorine or your lady's perfume, you couldn't get rid of the smell of blood. It seemed to be absorbed into the ship.

You behaved as quiet as a mouse. Didn’t interfere, didn’t talk too much. Made friends with a couple of serfs without distracting them from their work. Tried not to tremble in the presence of the Astartes passing by. The main thing is to continue to remain invisible. Hide in the darkness and it doesn’t matter what these lords rule the night.

The lady was an easy prey. She just asked to be gutted. You shouldn't think that way, but it was true. The way her knees shook and she sweated out of fear. Although it was difficult not to do so when even in the quietest corners of the ship distant cries of pain could be heard.

“I'm so scared. They look like that, as if a little longer and they will twist my head.” - the lady once complained to you before going to bed.

“You shouldn’t be afraid. This won't happen." - you calmly notice. The girl’s calm face, full of hope, changes to horror and disgust as soon as you continue your thought. - “First they will skin you alive.”

Compared to her, you seemed so gloomy and strange. Weird. The other servants jokingly called you lady crow. Although you didn't understand the humor. Nightfall looked more like a burial ground. How could you want to stay here for even one minute if you are not a scavenger? Besides, you are not a bird, you are a human.

And despite this, your mistress tried to gain respect among mortals who had seen the real horrors of war. And her desperate attempts to personally meet Konrad Curze are akin to a desire to quickly depart to the afterworld.

And she achieved her goal. Even more. The primarch himself decided to visit the chambers of the restless scribe. Either out of idle curiosity or out of a desire to calm down the annoying woman. Just the knock on the door sent a shiver down your spine, and his massive black figure in the doorway sent a terrible feeling of foreboding.

Konrad Curze, in his grim elegance, entered the chamber and greeted the woman. And then he looked at you. Long and drawn out, cold and concentrated. His black eyes probed every piece of your flesh and soul. And then he smiled.

The lips stretched to the ears, revealing clawed teeth. But the worst thing was when he laughed a nasty laugh. The kind that makes your bones crack. He continued to look at you and laugh, putting the lady in a stupor. And scaring you terribly. A gloomy foreboding clouded the little mortal heart, and the words only nailed you more firmly to the floor.

“How interesting~” - the primarch grinned carnivorously while saliva collected in the corners of his mouth. - “The little mouse will offer itself to the crow. And he will only be glad. What's worse? To be eaten by scoundrels or to be protected by a monster?”

He bursts out laughing again, this time quiet. He sighs, disgustingly satisfied. Until he finally pays attention to your mistress. And something in his face changes. You can’t explain it, but it’s as if doom and anticipatory bloodthirstiness have merged into one. As if Konrad Curze saw something terrible. And he liked it.

“Perhaps we should discuss everything in private,” his voice softly envelops you like night. It is impossible to explain how a man turned from madman to primarch. Although no one knows whether the Emperor's son can go mad.

Your mistress nods and with a wave of her hand kicks you out of the chambers. You quickly leave the room, closing the door behind you. The primal desire to hide increased a hundredfold. You rush to one of your secluded places, which you discovered by accident. For the first time in your life, not watching the road and not hiding too much from prying eyes.

You should never give in to fear. You must always be on your guard. A momentary weakness can and does lighten the soul. But you will definitely have to pay later. And you understand this as soon as you hit your forehead on something iron at a turn.

A characteristic sound is heard and you whine and grab your forehead. There will be a bump and most likely a huge one. But the pain just vanishes when you understand where it came from. And especially when you hear an unpleasant chuckle.

He looked intimidating. Outstretched wings of a gargoyle and a skull on a huge armor not intended for an ordinary mortal. The characteristic appearance of the Nostraman did not frighten you. As well as the scars on the eyebrow and lip.

But his smile was scary. How his black eyes filled with sparkle, and the corners of his lips twitched strangely. It’s as if someone is touching the threads sewn into the skin of a corpse, imitating human living emotions. All the sons of Curze were terrifying, their “smiles” were more like the grin of animals. But this one was different.

“Careful, little one. If you had met one of my brothers, you would already be hanging on a hook” - his eyes sparkled with mischief, but nothing more. - “Where are you going in such a hurry?”

You swallowed. Didn’t want to answer, but silence could only provoke.

“My lady is speaking with Konrad Curze.” - the unpleasant meeting still echoed in your brain. It became more uncomfortable. - “I was told not to interfere.”

“Oh, that annoying scribe still managed to snag a meeting with the primarch. Your mistress talks too much and goes where she shouldn't. These usually end up with their guts out.” The man smirked and looked at you. Attentively. Like a carcass ready for slaughter. - “And where are you going?”

That's why you didn't want to get caught by the Night Lords. They played with mortals as if they were food. Important people for the Legion were still protected, but the serfs were meat. One is gone, it’s easy to replace it with a second one. The only thing that saved you was to be the remembrancer’s serf, her personal maid. Although judging by the attitude of the Space Marines towards her, this could only egg them on.

“To the compartment” - you don’t want to say where you’re going, but there’s no choice. In addition, it is unlikely that the Astartes will specify the exact location of your secret home. - “Into the trash compartment.”

A strange range of surprise spreads across the man’s face. Not disgust, but misunderstanding.

“Why the hell did you decide to go there?”

“There are a lot of rats there. They are my friends” - you almost calmed down as soon as you remembered the familiar sounds coming from under the garbage. You almost whisper a confession. - “They calm me down with their rustling.”

It was true. They listened to your stories, entertained you with fights between each other. They were soft and fluffy, although dirty. They were not evil from birth, they simply survived as best they could in such a place. And alas, the rats were much better than some of the people here.

The man just chuckled at these words. Did it seem to you or did a strange understanding flash in his eyes? And curiosity.

“Well then go.”

Not believing your luck, you open your mouth in amazement and blink your eyes. But you obey. While he gives you a head start, you need to run. There is no need to waste your luck. Especially when the one who could easily break you and not notice, lets you go while the going's good.

“And since they calm you down, mouse,” you turn around sharply and notice the same terrifying smile. But this time it's not scared. Something in a man changes when he calls out to you. - “It’s worth thanking them. Bring them meat... and fresh is best.”

Good advice. Maybe you're already used to Nightfall or this Night Lord seems less terrible. Or maybe you should really bring your little friends a well-deserved reward. You'll try to find something fresh and something... not made from human flesh.

You nod and quickly, trying not to attract attention, walk further down the corridor. You wish you could say that you didn’t feel the Space Marine’s gaze on you. But you felt it even when your figure disappeared from his gaze. Dead, mischievous, carnivorous. It was as if he had just found an interesting prey, but decided to let it go.

For a while.

***

You started to notice him. Previously all Space Marines looked alike. You just didn't look closely. Why the hell do you need this if they will torture you almost equally. But he wasn't like that. Or rather, a little more... humane? Kind? No, those are suitable. Wrong. Yes, that's much better.

First captain. Jago Sevatarion. You learned the name and title from one of the local serfs. You immediately became friends with him when you saw him. He was old. That's why you called him grandpa. He lasted a long time. Good sign.

Grandpa said that you were very lucky that the captain didn’t touch you. He did not participate in the local amusements so often, talking more with the primarch. Or keeping an eye on other Space Marines and a Atramentar. But still he was just as sadistic as the others. He killed, dismembered, skinned with grim pleasure. You couldn’t help but notice that he was the most feared of all. Unpleasant vibrations emanated from him.

It seemed like you were scared too. But it seems not. Alas, just as you were strange in childhood, you remains so. Although the local inhabitants even liked it. As if you almost one of them, unlike the other servants of the scribe. But you really couldn’t understand why no one noticed.

His weirdness. How he communicates with a couple of mortals. The same ones. You were sure he was keeping an eye on them. He made sure nothing bad happened to them. And he didn't touch you either. It is unlikely that your “status” would in any way prevent Sevatarion from quenching his thirst for murder. And he didn't laugh at your friendship with rats. Didn't find it disgusting or weird. It was nice gesture.

He also began to notice you. On distance. Didn't come up to you, didn't call you. No need. It’s just that now he knew what kind of new person was running around here. The Astartes began to notice you in the shadows, as you headed towards the rats or the local serfs. You didn’t see, but you were almost sure that at such moments he smiled unpleasantly.

Although probably all the Space Marines smiled when Curze called your mistress a traitor. He said that she decided to steal something and violated the Imperial Truth. You still couldn’t understand the words of the old serf who caught you in the corridor.

Rave. Your mistress was spoiled and annoying, but she would never betray the Imperium. She wouldn't even have such a thought. Is this a mistake or some kind of joke? The primarch could not blame her for something she had not done. Did he really decide to come up with justice just to send her to her death? She was kind. She didn't deserve it.

But a judgment is a judgment. Grandpa wasn't making fun of you. Now you and the other servants belonged to the Legion. But given the way this happened, you are unlikely to stay here for long. Alive.

With a feeling of guilt and tears in your eyes, you look at her mutilated corpse, nailed to one of the gates. They removed the skin from her, and then they squeezed out the body so that all the bones were broken, and most of the blood flowed away. Now her eyeless body, folded like a rag, looked at you accusingly.

Once you said that they would skin her, don't you?

Footsteps are heard behind you. Not lurking, but quiet. If you can say so, taking into account the armor of the Space Marines. You turn around and see Jago Sevatarion behind. The captain looks...tired. It was like he hadn't slept for days or weeks. A little bored. But quite happy with his work.

Apparently he also took part in the verdict.

“Your screaming scribe got into trouble herself, little mouse. You shouldn't mourn her when your life hangs by a thread. You will serve the Legion well and we will not touch you. Maybe." - the man falls silent and looks at you carefully. - “Or are you so used to being a personal servant?”

Maybe. If this world were a little kinder, you would even call your mistress a friend. But the Galaxy is full of horrors, and your patroness has turned into a leather rag. And you will be the same if you get caught. Or if you are not protected...

Grandpa said he was lucky. He had a tattoo. The ink mixed with the blood of the Space Marine he served. And no one touched him. Nobody offended him. Because he was not a “free” serf. He was no one's toy on the road. He had his own tormentor. But it's better than the unknown. Isn't it?

The First Captain raised an eyebrow. Apparently a little hope slipped across your sad face. It’s alarming to ask, scary to beg. But what choice do you have? Sooner or later you will be found and gutted. So you have to take risks.

“Take me to you,” you almost devour the man with your eyes, trying not to cower in fear. - “I will serve you. I'll be obedient. Will not interfere. I'm very quiet. Please."

You didn’t know why you mentioned that you are quiet. It came out on its own. The Night Lords rather like screaming, begging, and crying. The louder the better. But before your eyes was the tired appearance of the first captain. Even now he didn't look his best. Although something lights up in his eyes. For a moment, the walking corpse looks almost alive. A terrible sight.

“Call me Sevatar.” - the voice is surprisingly soft and relaxed. You look at him in disbelief. The man just grins at your funny look.

"This means?"

"Yes."

[l0stfoster]

You already know who it is, back on my bullshit 👉👉 not here for paul this time (SHOCKING)

So , darry. Darrel Curtis. My boy my baby. I just have like ,, general things i want to know more about so bare with me bc hes my fav alongside paul ofc and i can ramble

1. When did his tail get permanently fucked up and how did he mess it up so badly?

2. Ik his powers get unstable when he gets like ,, real upset so besides the night he slapped Pony, are there any instances where he just got outta control ?

3. Is he afraid that his relationship with Paul isnt real bc of his mind manipulation bc baby knowing me if i had that power id be scared to mfing death

4. Goddammit im mentioning paul again sorry but ik darry calls paul pretty boy (heart hands i love that) but does paul call darry any pet name that just makes him SWOOOON

5. Has he ever gotten jumped post-book ?? I imagine that before him and paul fell out he had told him a bunch of things including weaknesses that socs used to their advantage ESP after paul “betrayed” them, and what better way to hurt paul holden then to hurt the person he loves more than life itself

Okay thats all for now b4 i go literally insane but i may be back bc i have questions abt other couples 😼😼😼

You’re so fucking real for the Darry enjoyment too I also adore him he’s such a guy. Both in canon and in the au, I need to kiss him on the forehead. DARRY YAP TIME (Crow will be so joyous)

Timewing got really excited about this one so a lot of the answers are his, I just added on afterward with my thoughts, so the first bullet point will be hers, and the second one is mine!!

When did his tail get permanently fucked up and how did he mess it up so badly?

- I assume he tried to crush it or break it violently enough that it needed to be amputated. One way of the latter reason probably would've been falling off the roof of the house back first. One way of the former reason is heading out to a field and trying to slam a hay bale on it. - I personally like to think he'd gone far enough to get his hands on a spare tire from their father's truck and,, crunch! It was the only way he could think of doing enough damage while getting away with it since the car had issues enough to need active little fixes and tweaks, including tire changes. He was around 17 or 18 during all of this, by the way. Unlike his ears, this isn't one his family knows was purposeful.

His powers get unstable when he gets like ,, real upset so besides the night he slapped Pony, are there any instances where he just got outta control?

- There are so many instances but it happens more so when he's stressed. There were a few situations where during tests during school he accidentally ended up making an entire class of 20+ students so anxious a few were sent home and a couple jocks had panic attacks. Another instance was (using the musical for this) when he and Soda were brought in to be asked abt Pony's whereabouts and he got so pissed off with the questioning that he also heightened the officer's anger and nearly got himself arrested. Also the rumble. I think that speaks for itself. - A couple other instances I can think of are after their parents died, when Dally got shot, and uh. The entirety of the duration that Pony was gone, though that was mostly him heightening his own distraught compared to anyone else. He probably does it every now and then at work too during rough work days, which makes for some interesting occurences.

Is he afraid that his relationship with Paul isn't real bc of his mind manipulation bc baby knowing me if I had that power I'd be scared to mfing death.

- Absolutely. He stresses abt it every second of every minute of every hour of every day. - A little fact that Darry doesn't know, though, is that after Paul's powers are presented he has a level of resistance to certain types of curse-related powers! He's not immune, per se, but Darry's manipulation, Soda's song, and Johnny's death sense are all a little lowered; this is because he's in the direct bloodline of the witch who cursed Tulsa. In the way that Johnny can't see Paul's death date (but can get flashes of it), Soda's siren song is easier for Paul to break himself out of and he can tolerate Darry's manipulation for a little longer before caving into it. Parry fans can rest easy knowing that Paul's love for Darry is 100% genuine. Unfortunately, Darry does not know that </3

Goddammit Im mentioning Paul again sorry but ik Darry calls Paul pretty boy (heart hands I love that) but does Paul call Darry any pet name that just makes him SWOOOON

- It's mostly the Latin nicknames that get him. He may not know what the hell Paul is saying but he's in love with it anyway. But he's also especially fond of being called the ever so typical "sugar" - Yeah it's just a bunch of Latin and then the usually sappy ones. Darling, Doll, etc. Paul hits him with “Optimum accidit mihi” ("The best thing to happen to me") once and Darry would actually fold if he knew it.

Has he ever gotten jumped post-book ?? I imagine that before he and Paul fell out he had told him a bunch of things including weaknesses that socs used to their advantage ESP after Paul “betrayed” them, and what better way to hurt Paul Holden than to hurt the person he loves more than life itself

- I imagine maybe once but there was also when he went hunting for Two's stolen feathers and was... scary. He's a scary dude, no one wants to mess with a fae that has that much muscle and is probably not afraid to bite you. - I also agree that,, yyyyeah, Darry is arguably one of the greasers to get jumped the least, including post-book. He works a lot too, so it's not like there are many open instances for him to walk around. Darry definitely told Paul any weaknesses that did exist, but I like to imagine Paul kept those real tight to his chest- He absolutely used them himself during their time hating each other, but could never get himself to tell the other socs; it was a level of trust he couldn't bring himself to break, especially since Darry had seen and heard his own share of things from Paul that he never spilled. The Socs also didn't know that Darry was what Paul valued the most; sure, Paul was very clearly into him, buuuut they make their own assumptions regarding his sexuality and how things go relating to it-

-I could definitely imagine a scenario where they attempt to sabotage Darry and Paul's relationship out of spite if they knew how dedicated Paul is.

[tryingmybestpls]

I Know The End

Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x Reader

Summary: She meets him. They fall in love. She dies, he mourns. The cycle continues.

Rating: R

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: Angst, mildly graphic descriptions of death, grief, mentions of injury

In every universe, she dies.

It was a canon event-completely unstoppable if they wanted the multiverse to stay together.

Every Spider-Person knew this. Every time they saw a version of her at HQ, they knew not to get too attached. She'd disappear and another version would take its place, looking slightly different from the previous version of her, but her nonetheless.

In every universe, she also fell in love with Miguel O'Hara.

It was a canon event and Miguel had to just let it happen, no matter how much it hurt him.

Every time she'd swing into his life, he had to let the cards fall where they may, even if he knew exactly where they led to.

In one universe, she had a baby who looked just like the two of them. She balanced being a mom and being Spider-Woman almost effortlessly. Miguel, once again, was able to play dad, was able to pretend like this could be his life. He would spend the night in her universe, sleeping with her in the bed, helping her with the midnight diaper changes and three a.m. feedings. Hell, he had even thought about marrying her, wanting so bad to ignore the canon, wanting to find a way that he can have his cake and eat it too.

She had gotten impaled on some rebar after saving a kid from Green Goblin and the others had got there too late to do anything about it. Peter B. Parker had watched as Miguel lifted her off of it, her blood staining his suit. He could hear as his friend whispered something to her over and over in Spanish. Peter had kept his distance, knowing that Miguel needed this moment. Her daughter-the one that had his hair and her eyes-went to live with her mother's family in California.

In another, she was a nurse. She helped save lives off and on the clock. She would tend to the other Spider-People's wounds, stitching them up when needed, giving IV's and injections and millions other things. They had spent so many nights together in his room post-mission where she’d take care of him. Her lip drawn between her teeth as she carefully focused on her work. As soon as she was done, as soon as she came out of that almost trance-like state, his lips would be on her skin, wanting to repay her. Medical supplies would be tossed to the floor, injuries ignored.

She had gotten taken out by her universe's Doc Ock. Miguel had personally hunted him down after that, unable to control his rage. Peter B. and Hobie had to drag him off of the guy.

In one, she had been married to someone else, but that hadn't stopped the relationship from forming. She'd slip away from her universe and into Miguel's, and in between helping take down anomalies, she'd be in his bed. She had been sick the whole time and every time she used her powers she had gotten worse. They could all see it-the gradual decline even if she wouldn’t tell them outright, but Miguel knew. He wouldn't let her do missions anymore, but she still continued to be Spider-Woman in her universe. She died in her sleep beside the man she was married to, but not the one she loved. Miguel had attended the funeral, but had kept his distance. He had waited and watched as she had been buried. He had been the last one to leave the cemetery that day.

There were versions of her that were artists, models, chefs, actresses, teachers, but they were all her. And they all fell in love with him, one after another. No one could stop it, no one could prevent it. It was just fate.

She meets him. They fall in love. He mourns. And then the cycle continues.

The Y/N they had right now, she has lasted longer than all of the others. She had been with them for a few years now, which has felt like a lifetime compared to the time they got with the rest of them. That had only made them all uneasy. Every mission, every missed visit to HQ, they all thought that was going to be it, but then she'd show up, a smile on her face and jokes spilling out of her mouth without a second thought . Miguel was constantly checking in on her, which was something she teased him about.

"I guess you really do like me, eh bug boy?"

God, he did.

It was terrifying how attached to her he was, how his whole demeanor seemed to change as soon as she enters a room. His stoicism and broodiness completely melts away, no instead he gives her a version of himself that no one else sees (save for maybe Mayday-she's a baby, so how could he be a dick to her?). At first, Jess and Peter B. used to tease him about it, but as Y/N died over and over, the teasing came to an end. Now all they could offer was sad smiles when Miguel talked about her.

He was selfish-he wished he could keep her at HQ forever. Miguel wanted to ignore the canon and just hold onto her as long as he could, keeping her all to himself. Who cares if the multiverse falls apart? He’d have her, he’d have a life with her. That’s all he needed, isn’t it?

But he’d never go against the canon.

-

"I know, you know. How this ends. That we are doomed to repeat this over and over." She announces one right, moonlight-or at least what she thinks is moonlight-streaming in through the gaps of his curtains, his room smelling like the two of them-a mixture of her perfume, his cologne, sweat, and sex. Her finger absentmindedly traces a mark she’d had left on his skin moments ago. He sits up in bed, looking at her with wide eyes. His mind was racing. Had someone told her? Had he somehow let it slip? How did she know?

"Y-You do? Mierda. Why didn't you say anything?" He questions, his brows furrowed together. She shrugs, tucking an arm behind her head as she looks at him, as if it wasn't a big deal that she knew about her own coming demise.

"What's the point, cariño? I die, I come back, this starts all over again. Why spoil the time I get with you?" She responds, her eyes focused on him, "It's me and you, always."

"It's me and you, always."

She said it so nonchalantly, as if a piece of him doesn't die with every version of her that does. As if he doesn’t meticulously check for signs of the next version of her after she disappears from his life. As if it doesn’t feel like a huge weight has been lifted off his shoulders when she starts to don her black and pink Spider suit, because he knows he’ll be with her soon. He lets his eyes shut for a moment as her fingers trace a scar on his shoulder. He thinks about what he should say, about if he should be upset that she knew and didn't tell him. But it's Y/N, and he can't bring himself to be mad at her.

"How long have you known?" Miguel asks, his eyes opening and landing on her. In the moonlight, he could see that her neck and chest were littered with marks-bruising from sucking at her skin, angry red lines from where he had dragged his fangs against her, puncture marks from biting her. They had already started to heal, just like the matching marks on his skin had started to.

"I think we all know-at least I did. We get bits and pieces of it, of you mainly. Of a life with you. I think for the most part, we all think it's a dream-that you're just a hot guy in a dream and then we meet you." Y/N explains, her gaze turning soft as the corners of her mouth turn upward. He keeps himself from rolling his eyes at her little “hot” compliment, his mind still reeling.

The rest is left unsaid-the fact that she can see all the different ways she has met her end, how she knows how it feels to die. The feeling of falling on that rebar, the sickening snap of her neck, her being strangled by a Doc Ock’s tentacle, the crushing feeling of a building falling on top of her, choking on her own blood, the feeling of her organs spilling out-

Sometimes she’ll reach down and expect to feel metal sticking out of her, tearing her apart.

"And you're-You're okay with that?" Miguel's eyebrows are furrowed together as he looks at her. Her eyes were on him, but she wasn’t there, not fully. He wished he could take a peak inside of her mind, wanting-no, needing to know how much she could remember. He studies her face in the moonlight, trying to read her, trying to understand how she could be so…okay with all of this.

"I still get a forever with you, don't I? I still get to live a life with you, even if it's just bits and pieces." Her voice is soft as her smile starts to grow ever so slightly, "And I'd take that any day."

His lips are suddenly against hers once more, his hand cupping her cheek. She’s a little surprised, but returns it eagerly, her hand slipping into his locks, holding him to her. Y/N knows that Miguel isn’t good at expressing his feelings, that talking about his feelings is like pulling teeth for him. She also knows what the kiss means, what he wants to say. Each kiss, each bite, each thrust-she can decipher them all.

I wish we had more time.

I wish it wasn’t like this.

I want this, with you, forever.

This isn’t enough.

I can’t keep watching you die over and over.

I need you.

It’s me and you always.

-

This Y/N still meets her end, just like the dozens of others before her.

When she goes this time, she’s in his arms, crimson spilling out of her, covering both of them. She’s looking up at him, tears in her eyes from the pain as she gives him a small, pained smile.

“Don’t be sad, pendejo. I’ll see you again, yeah?” She says hoarsely, blood covering her lips. He leans forward, pressing his lips to her forehead. He stays there a moment, his eyes shut. When he pulls away, there’s tears streaming down her face, but she is still trying to smile at him, trying to tease him. Even like this, she’s still trying to make him feel better. So Miguel tries to smile back at her, but he’s sure it looks more like a grimace.

“Yeah. You’ll see me again.” He murmurs, wiping away her tears. It’s more like he’s reminding himself rather than agreeing with her. He swallows the lump in his throat, “It’s you and me.”

“It’s you and me.” Y/N manages to get out, her breathing more ragged. Her hand moves to rest on top of his, where’s he’s putting pressure on her wound even though they both know there’s no point. Her fingers intertwine with his and he holds her hand. There’s tears streaming down his face, his like there is every time he watches her dies.

Miguel just sits there, holding her hand long after her body stills, her head laying on his chest. He knows eventually he will have to get up, that he will have to take her back to her universe. For now, he just sits there with her, holding her body to his, quietly telling her all of the things that were left unsaid.

[summercreolefanfictioner]

the scent wafts in, her name making him beg on his knees chap 4 || touya x fem!oc [modern au]

chapter summary: Shouto finds out about a secret she held from Touya. Meanwhile, Touya recalls a certain darkness within himself.

themes: mentions of unplanned pregnancy, sex, ED, SA, abuse, violence, etc. (YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED)

notes: I haven't updated for so long 'cause I got busy with attending social events and life 😭

masterlist

Shouto took in the apartment where she lived as the woman silently prepared tea in the kitchen. It was a decent apartment, nonetheless. There was no tarnished paint or specks of dust in sight. Everything was well kept, and the place smelled so good that you would think you were in a 5-star hotel. What caught his eye was his brother's picture frame on this one table at the corner by the couch. It was Touya sitting on a bench at the park while sipping his iced coffee. If one would look closely, there were still dark specks at his brother's hair roots. It was like he had his hair freshly dyed in white.

"I hope green tea is to your liking," she mumbled, settling the tray on the table as she noticed Shouto's line of attention.

Shouto quickly turned to her and bowed slightly. "I don't mind," he replied as Kaori sat on the couch beside him.

"Umm..." She picked up her cup to warm herself, remembering how she secretly took that picture of Touya even if she had no idea if he was fond of having pictures taken of him or not. "I had no other pictures of Touya in my phone, so that was the first thing I took. I think he looks so good there."

Shouto took a sip of his tea. "Oh."

Silence. What should she do? It has been a while since she last heard of an update from Touya. The last night they were together was bliss. Kaori could even compare it to the feeling of finally reaching heaven because, for the first time, Touya opened himself up to her. He told her who he really was. Todoroki Touya, the oldest son of Todoroki Enji (CEO of Endeavor Corp.) and Todoroki Rei (one of the most famous models in Japan). He ran away at the age of 19 and fend for himself, doing odd jobs until he met her and she took him in without question. Touya told her meeting her was the best thing that happened ever since he left home, that she was his miracle of some sort in his own hell.

He just didn't tell her personally that he had to leave for her sake. She understood why he couldn't. If he did, it would make it harder for him to leave. He had seen her cry many times before, but that time was different, and leaving the person he loved the most would hurt him. Of course, she hurt too. Her world was suddenly put to a halt, not knowing how to start a life without Touya being physically there, and only the letter he left for her was her reminder that he would still come back. Nonetheless, it was still hard; not to mention the fact that she found out later that she was 3 weeks pregnant with his child.

So when his youngest brother came to personally deliver his letter, it came to her as a relief—that Touya was serious about wanting to be together with her; that he was still working on himself so he could be the man she deserved. But, this doesn't mean she was not having second thoughts, especially now that there was a human living inside her body.

"How is he?" she asked nervously.

"Touya-nii is doing fine. I don't know about anything else but he's doing his best to combat his addiction," Shouto replied truthfully. "He only started writing to us after his 4-month stay there, and he didn't write too much after, so that's what we only know."

She imagined Touya probably lashing out on his own as he battled within himself to fight his alcohol and cigarette dependency, but she also believed he would manage out there. After all, he said in his first letter that he would do everything just to be with her again, and if his words were true, he would make sure of it.

"How far along?" This time, it was Shouto's turn to ask. Honestly, it was shocking for him to find out about her pregnancy, and he kind of worried about her since all his eldest brother knew was, she was handling herself all alone. It's not a good thing considering she's carrying his nephew inside her.

"6... turning 7," she answered meekly, trying not to break down or her negative feelings might affect her child.

"Does he know?"

Her awkward silence already gave it away for him, though. So Touya-nii doesn't know. And when she mentioned the number of months, Shouto had to do a quick calculation in his head before he deduced when it all started.

The day before he returned? Or maybe a few days before he returned? Shouto gave a brief glance at her who worriedly placed a hand on her belly and sighed. It would be bad for her to see Touya-nii since she's pregnant. The additional stress from the treatment center will be too much.

"Do you want to tell him?"

She nodded, but she was still hesitant about it as she fiddled with her skirt and mustered the courage to speak what was in her mind.

"Can you please not tell Touya about this?" she requested. "I know this is important for him too, but you see... I..." This was embarrassing; she should be ashamed. "This pregnancy... I... it shouldn't happen in the first place. It's my mistake."

Shoto's mind went blank as a rush of painful memories flooded in, triggered by her words. It was a stark reminder of the hardships he and his siblings endured during their childhood.

The pregnancy... it shouldn't happen... The pregnancy... is a mistake?

Upon seeing his crest-fallen face, she immediately tried to clear things up, aware of Touya's painful childhood with his siblings. "I didn't mean it like that, S-Shouto-kun! It's just that... I wasn't supposed to be... pregnant. Y-Yeah, that was it."

Shouto was relieved, and to think he thought she might still be considering abortion.

"Touya deserves to know his son with me," she started, "but the thing is... I forgot my pill intake, hence my pregnancy. I-I know it's my fault for being stupid, and I just don't want to push the responsibility on him."

Shouto took in her words, carefully analyzing them. Well, it's a good thing it wasn't as grave as their parents' situation before. But still, this was a delicate situation.

"Understood. I won't tell him anything."

"T-Thank you."

Then he added, "Just so you know..."

"Hm?"

"I don't think Touya-nii would think of it as a mistake."

She was confused. "Oh... okay."

"If it's any consolation, you did it together."

She wanted to cry at his words. Of course, he was a Todoroki. This shouldn't surprise her if Shouto had the same foul mouth as Touya, even though the youngest Todoroki only meant to comfort her.

"And... can I have a request?"

"Yes?"

"Can I take a picture of you? Just a proof to Touya-nii that I went here."

"But..."

"Only your face will do."

In a few seconds, she composed herself as Shouto readied his phone camera.

"Smile."

Snap.

------

Touya scrutinized the picture in his hand, eyes narrowing into slits and one could see the slight distaste as Shouto only sat in front of him like he did nothing wrong. Well, it was a good picture of her with a soft smile on her face, but the thing is, the picture kind of felt forced. Well, it was a given since Touya hadn't formally introduced her to his family.

But still...

"I don't think it's blurred though," Shouto pointed out seriously.

"What do you think of me? Blind?" Touya retorted in annoyance. "But why is she looking like she's posing for an ID?"

Shouto tilted his head in confusion. "What do you mean?"

Touya waved off in negation, not wanting to elaborate on the topic. "Did she say anything?"

"Like what?"

Touya got a bit flustered, looking away from his brother to hide the blush creeping on his face. "Like... you know..."

Shouto was only dumbfounded. "What the fuck are you talking about?"

Touya grumbled. So much for relying on his youngest brother when he doesn't understand basic things in life. "Never mind. Just wanna know if she was doing okay."

"She's..." She's pregnant; almost 7 months in. "She's doing okay. She had only been eating snacks and fruits when I met her."

Touya couldn't hide his surprise as he made this unexpected discovery, which immediately caught his attention and made Shouto more alert and aware.

"Is something wrong, Touya-nii?"

"She... doesn't eat anything aside from soup."

Touya could remember her eating routine and it was so hellish she might even survive by just living off water. She had been a tad insecure when she first learned about her ex cheating on her, so she decided to lose weight and fit his standards. But she knew she wouldn't be able to, so she was left with a hidden eating disorder, making her reject all kinds of food given to her, except for soup. Anything filled with broth was the only way she would eat food.

He found this trait later on when he decided to order pizza for them, only for her not even to finish a slice and puke it all out in disgust, crying to him that she couldn't eat as much as she did before. To this day, cursing and ruining her ex's life (even when he was out of the picture) had become his golden dream that he swore if he ever saw him again, he'd have him begging for his life.

"Is that... bad?" Shouto pondered. "I mean, soup is good."

"So... what was she eating?" Touya quickly reverted the topic to the food.

"She drank green tea and ate 2 whole oranges. Then she snacked on pumpkin seeds."

Touya smiled fondly at that. "That's a relief then."

------

Touya had almost reached the 8-month mark in the treatment center when he decided that the best way to shut himself off from the rest of the world was in the library, reading through the random books he could find. Most of them were self-help books and a few Christian ones for those who prefer reading the bible. But honestly, Touya got so bored of them that he opted for that mini section with science and math, solving the equations in every subject exercise like he did whenever he skipped classes.

Being one of the top performers back then made his name so prominent that students were either amazed or intimated by him, whispers following him around along with the name of his parents. Well, what could he expect? His father was one of the richest guys in Japan, and his mom was one of the most famous models of her generation. Gossip and media would really follow him and his siblings around like a damn plague.

As he was busy with his own time, the door suddenly slid open and a boy entered looking scared, only to sigh in relief and mumble, "It's a man." Judging from the bruises and the way he was covering his skin with his long sleeves, Touya already had an idea, and it reminded him of the old days. As such, he stood up, taking the book with him and exiting the library.

The boy felt a bit ashamed by this, but before he could go out the door, he grabbed a random adult coloring book and a set of colored pencils to cure his boredom and finally left the place.

------

Touya was in his room, eating his cigarette candies as he was busy coloring the pages of the adult coloring book, shading the random pictures as he recalled in his head all the jobs he had taken and how they all affected him in some way. To be honest, it opened a whole new world for him, making him see much more painful things in life than the things his father did to him.

He got his first job from a senpai from his school, diligently working in a convenience store as their cashier. So far, it was a tame job and he could pay off his rent and get to eat 3 meals a day. It wasn't enough for him to buy him his alcohol and cigarettes though. After all, he wasn't the same rich kid he was before, so money had been an issue for him as a high school dropout. So at night, he would take a part-time job at the nearest warehouse, checking inventory of every item to be delivered and helping out in carrying boxes to trucks. When his day job wasn't paying well, he shifted to a logistics company where he was assigned as a staff member to deliver items via motorcycle. He was secretly glad he learned how to ride bikes by constantly being in the arcade with a few "friends" from school (Who was he kidding, though? They weren't friends. They were pawns he used to keep up the good son facade.)

When he got tired of doing two jobs at once, that's when a random guy from work told him there was an opening for an assistant bartender job at a certain host bar at the Red District, something along the lines of: "You won't be a host there. You'll just be trained to mix drinks and serve them to the guests, that's all." Touya was skeptical about it at first, but he badly needed the money, and he was craving for some rest in between so he took a shot. Truth be told, he was just really trained to assist the bartender in making the drinks.

It was only that until there was an opportunity.

------

"Do you think sex is fun?" Touya suddenly asked his therapist, who seemingly paused from taking notes on his file.

"Come again?" The therapist heard what he said. He just had to make sure he heard it right before answering.

Touya sighed. "I said, do you think sex is fun?"

The therapist put down his file on his desk, clearing his throat to feign his embarrassment. It was unusual for Touya to ask questions so might as well provide an appropriate answer for that.

"It depends on the experience and with whom I did it with," he supplied. "If both people are communicating with each other properly and making sure each other's needs are met, then I think it would be a fun experience."

Touya stared blankly, probably seeing through his answer and thinking if it was right or wrong. Maybe he wanted an honest answer. He didn't know since the eldest Todoroki son was not giving hints on what was going on in his mind.

"I didn't think of sex as fun though," he revealed.

"And why is that?"

Touya shrugged nonchalantly. "Sex for me is a chore."

"Does this have something to do with your job at the host club?"

"Partly." A pause. "I don't know."

"So why is sex for you a chore?"

Silence. Touya was collecting his thoughts, and he thinks maybe he was the weird fucker who doesn't think of sex being equal to satisfaction or pleasure. Well, not until with her, of course. But for him, in general, it was a chore.

"I actually worked as an assistant bartender in a host club, and customers thought I was part of the club's gig where the host acts as a bartender," he started his story, the awful memories coming back into pieces was enough to leave a foul taste at the tip of his tongue. "The owner thought it would be nice if I could be a host during Mondays and Fridays—on a condition that a customer cannot choose which host she wanted for the night."

"So you're like the secret host of the club in case they cannot choose who they wanna be with," the therapist deduced.

"Yes."

"So how did sex becoming a chore for you is related to this?"

And then, Touya opened Pandora's box and the darkness he held inside him.

next chap

masterlist

tagging: @rueclfer @crookedherringcolorclod @suksatoru @skiiyoomin @allurearia @m-4399

[lizzie-queenofmeigas]

Warnings: Incest.

Sarah stared at the god awful wallpaper that was all over the dining room. Rose chose it. She changed most things when she moved in. Her taste was terrible compared to her mother's. All the warmth in Tannyhill disappeared the moment Rose moved in. Sarah wanted it back. She wanted to make it her home again.

Their home.

They had money now, and Rafe had left her in charge to redecorate. Had given her a small portion of their cut to make Tannyhill more homely. The rest was either kept in a safe place or invested in something to get more money out of it. They wanted to keep their previous lifestyle, and for that they needed the money to keep coming. They invested in something safe, and not too much more than the minimum. They had to be smart about it.

Rafe had wanted to use some of it to pay the debts that were all over Cameron Development, but Ward had signed the company over to Rose. Some sort of revenge for their betrayal. It was almost better that way, so they could star over. Besides, with their share of the gold and Rafe starting the process to access the fund left to them by their mother they didn't need anything from Ward. The Redfields had been the richest family on Kildare, and their mother was the last of them so everything went to her. And now that she was dead, everything went to her children.

The only bad thing was that it was taking a little too long, they weren't supposed to have it until Rafe turned twenty-four. Because he was supposed to go to college. Well, he did go to college, but he dropped out the first year. Another thing Rafe didn't like to talk about.

There were so many things he didn't like to talk about.

Like what happened in the Bahamas. The kiss. When Rafe kissed her. When she liked it. They returned home and they didn't talk about it. The summer ended and they didn't talk about it. Christmas passed and they didn't talk about it. But Sarah couldn't stop thinking about it. Every time he kissed her forehead or her cheek, every time he smiled at her, every time he hugged her she thought about it. Did Rafe think about it too? Did that kiss haunted him as it her? Or had he forgotten about it?

No.

He hadn't, she knew that. They slept in the same room, the same bed, and sometimes he murmured her name in dreams. She probably did the same, all things considered. But that was wrong. It should disgust her. They were siblings, they couldn't be together that way. They couldn't. No matter how much she wanted it, or how much Rafe may want it. So maybe it was better if they never talk about it. If the kiss just stayed forever undiscussed.

It's for the best.

With a sigh, Sarah wrote down the word wallpaper on her list. It was a list of things to buy for the house. It was pretty long already.

"What about a bigger couch?" suggested Wheezie from the other side of the table "The one we have is too small for the three of us, and it's also kinda ugly"

"Yeah, a couch"

Wheezie wrote it down on her own list, with one of her glitter pens.

"I don't really remember how it used to be" she commented sadly "I was like four when Rose began changing everything. How did mom have everything? There isn't many pictures of the house before"

"There are some, but they're up in the attic" she put down her own pen "Mom had it all very homely, like one of those Christmas commercials" she smiled at the memory of the fireplace and the lush carpets all over the floors "There were pictures of mom's ancestors over the walls, pictures of the house in the past. We were always running around, she didn't mind, unlike Ward. She used to organize parties during the summer nights and had her clubs coming over in winter"

Elizabeth Redfield was a member of the high society of South Carolina. People in the Outer Banks fought to befriend her, to be part of her book club or her painting club. 

"Sounds so cool"

"It was. I'm thinking of putting the old pictures back on the wall and pictures of mom too"

Rose took everything down the moment she became 'Mrs Cameron'. Every trace of Elizabeth Redfield. Rafe and her kept some pictures of her in their rooms, but most was up in the attic.

"That's a great idea" Rafe appeared in the room. She had to turn her head to look at him "Yeah, let's do that. I've been thinking about it myself. 'Bout mom's old room. I think I'm gonna move there"

Their mother's room, not Ward's and Rose's, but the main bedroom of Tannyhill. No one had used it since her death. Rose hadn't wanted to sleep where their mother used to, so Ward and her took another room. Now Rafe wanted that one. The biggest room in the house.

"Oh?" did that meant he wasn't going to sleep with her anymore.

"Don't worry, you can come in any time" 

Sarah smiled and rolled her eyes. She probably would put part of her clothes on that wardrobe, it was the biggest one. Wait...was he suggesting to make it their room?

"You two are weird" Wheezie wrinkled her nose and picked up her phone "Tomorrow after class I'm going to Sandra's. We're celebrating the last year of middle school"

"Not sure why you're celebrating that, high school is a nightmare"

"I don't really remember high school" Rafe squeezed Sarah's shoulder "Anyway, I got shit to do. It's time for bed, Wheez"

Wheezie frowned "I'm not a child, Rafe. I can go to bed when I want to, I'm almost fourteen"

"No, you go to bed when your legal guardian tells you to. Go"

"Ugh. You're no fun anymore"

"That's so rude" Rafe's hand wrapped around her neck, not squeezing or pressing, just lingering there. Sarah's heartbeat raced. Why? It was just her brother showing his care for her "Wanna come to bed?"

Her eyes widened, did she hear right?

"What?"

"To sleep, Sarah" he smirked, lifting his hand from his grip around her neck "What else would it be? I'm gonna hit the shower"

Sarah did the same, taking a shower in her bedroom's bathroom. Not even the hot water seemed to be able to erase the tingle on her neck were Rafe had wrapped his hand around. 

She should sleep in her bed tonight, should stay away from Rafe. She didn't. She went straight to his room, to his bed. Rafe was still in the shower, he usually took his time. Or, jerking off. He didn't sleep around anymore, not like before. He never brought girls to Tannyhill and he never stayed the night somewhere else. It had been a couple of months since he had sex. That she knew, at least. So he was definitely jerking off. And who was in his mind while he did it? Maybe her.

No.

No, not her. She was his sister. He wouldn't think about her. That was wrong.

Like the kiss?

Rafe smiled when he saw her, right after he left the bathroom. He was clothed. Thank God. He laid next to Sarah, and hugged her close to his chest. It was always so easy to sleep like that. So easy to sleep with him. It always had been.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Rafe drove her to high school. Not Kildare Academy, no, but the local high school. She had quit the Kook Academy before summer ended and enrolled into the local high school. It was better that way. The kooks kept on gossiping about Ward, about her family, and they wouldn't receive her with open arms. They chose Topper's side after the breakup. So she went to Pogue School (that was what the kooks called it), because at least there she had actual friends. 

The situation with the Pogues was better now that they had the gold. Even with John B things weren't terrible. He still wanted to get back with her, according to Kie, but hadn't made a move yet. Sarah hoped he never did. She really didn't want to hurt his feelings again. 

"See you later" Sarah kissed his cheek and left the car "Kie is coming later to the pool. Did I told you that already?"

"No. The pool, really? It's winter"

"It's hot" she shrugged.

"That's the global warming" Kie joined her at the gates of the school, standing by her side as she nodded towards Rafe "Hey, Rafe"

They were cordial now, more than before.

"Hey, Kie" he greeted back "Guess I'll pick you up after school then. Bye girls!"

A slight smile decorated Sarah's face while she watched him drive away.

"How was the weekend?" Kiara asked, intertwining their arms as they walked to the door "Mine was insane, I mean, my parents are constantly on my ass lately. I can't believe that after all of it, everything with the gold, they still think I'm lying to them. Can you believe that?"

Anna and Mike Carrera were known for disliking Kie's friendships, they had always criticized her decision to befriend JJ, John B and Pope. They only liked Sarah, but that was because she was a kook and they thought she was a good influence on Kie. She really wasn't, but they didn't need to know that. 

"Not to judge your parents or anything, but they are kinda classist"

"Yeah..." Kie accepted a little deflated "I can believe that from my mom, 'cause you know, she has always been a kook. But my dad? He was a pogue. He grew up on the Cut. I don't understand how can he act like that with JJ and John B, and shit, even Pope. And it's Pope, you know? Everyone knows he's good"

Sarah nodded along to her words.

"Who's good?" Sarah jumped back when she heard JJ's voice "Me?"

Pope, John B and JJ were walking by their side now. Pope was carrying his backpack and books, while the other two were carrying absolutely nothing.

"You?" John B chuckled "Nah, must be Pope. No one would ever describe us as 'good"'

"Yeah, we are talking about Pope" Sarah nodded "Because honestly you two are what can be described as 'No good'"

"Rude, Miss Cameron" 

He had been very angry at her, JJ, when she broke up with John B. He had been even more pissed when she told Rafe about the gold, but now they were cool again. Hell, he was cool with Rafe even. Mainly because Rafe and her helped John B and him to gain the emancipation. So one didn't have to go into the system and the other didn't have his father spending all his money.

"She's not wrong" Pope joked.

"Hey, guys, Kie is coming to Tannyhill later, you wanna come with us?"

"Oh, yes" JJ nodded earnestly "It's really fucking hot lately, I could do with a pool"

"The ocean is right there and it's free. That being said, I'm in too"

"It's Rafe cool with that?" John B shifted, stopping himself before crossing the door.

Sarah thought it was the fact that he stood witness to what happened to Peterkin, the reason John B was so uncomfortable with her brother. Pope and JJ didn't have that problem, nor did Kie. They came over to Tannyhill and spend the afternoons there, sometimes studying, sometimes doing other things. Rafe wasn't particularly bothered by them either, he was nice even. Hell, he even shared his whiskey with them sometimes. Well, he did once, and Pope proceeded to loudly declare he was never having whiskey again. JJ liked it though.

"He usually is"

"Never complains when we go to study. Not even when JJ drinks his whiskey" Pope commented " Are you going to stand there or...?"

"No, no. Let's go to class"

And if the other students whispered things about her father, Sarah pretended not to notice.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Club was almost completely full at that time of the day. Which wasn't surprising, rich people loved brunches. Especially the trophy wives, they spend the whole they at the Island Club or shopping. Or that was what Rose did most of the times, even though she did have a job and a business of her own. Which was not really her own, but something that Ward gave to her when they were still having an affair. She did manage it, but not on her own. Rose's real estate business was in cahoots with Cameron Development. To no one's surprise. So yeah, she was a trophy wife. And not one who did useful stuff.

Not like his mother. Elizabeth Redfield was always organising galas and charity events. She liked to help people, to help the island. And sure, what she had had been handed to her, she was an heiress, but she still did the work. She still managed her money and gave it to good causes. Unlike Rose. 

Rose only drank wine and bought stuff, like every other trophy wife on that damn island.

"You're being weird lately, man" Kelce sipped his margarita. He loved that shit "Like, seriously. I get that you have to step up now that your dad is in prison, but all of this? It's a little too much, man"

Rafe raised an eyebrow. Honestly, he didn't know what Kelce was talking about. It could be so many things.

"What do you mean?"

"Really? Man, I get that you're clean now, but...I mean, how long has it been since you got laid?"

Months.

Nothing since the summer. Since before doing what he did. Since before the crime. And it was not like he didn't have any opportunities, because he did. Especially since he got the the gold. He wished he could say it was part of his efforts to stay sober, but it wasn't. It was because it felt like cheating. It felt wrong, only the thought of sleeping with someone who wasn't—

"A while" he admitted with a nod before taking a bite of his fried eggs "It's one of the pillars of sobriety: celibacy"

He didn't know if it was, but it could be. So far he did more drinking and smoking and managing stuff to keep himself sober. And thinking about his sisters.

"Sucks to be you. Like I'm genuinely feeling sorry for you"

Rafe chuckled "Thanks, man"

He had known Kelce since They were kids. Their mother's were friends. Well, everyone was friends with his mother, and every parents wanted their children to be friends with the son of the Redfield heiress. But Rafe was a difficult child, or so people said. Most kids didn't want to stick around him. He was too creepy, they said, either too quiet or too prone to tantrums. Except for Kelce. Kelce didn't give a shit about how creepy he was. Kelce just wanted to play hide and seek. And then he just wanted to play basketball. And after that he just wanted to go to parties or chill near the pool.

He was a good friend.

"Anytime"

"How's it going with Scarlett? She's still not interested?"

"Oh, shut up" he smiled "She'll come around"

"If you say so"

"So this... celibacy thing, is it forever?"

God, he hoped not.

"No, no. Just until a few months" a year. Two. He had no fucking idea. Until Sarah— "Then I'll go back to normal. Minus the coke"

"Good. 'Cause I think you'll go insane if not, man"

Yeah, that was probably true.

"Guys?"

His eyes rolled on their own when he saw Topper approaching. He really wasn't in the mood to deal with Topper. He never was lately. Topper used to be so funny to him, so so funny. Now that he was sober, he wasn't funny anymore. Funny how that worked.

"Hey, Top" Kelce greeted him with a smile "Aren't you supposed to be in college?"

"Oh, I'm taking a year off to learn from my grandfather. Gonna be a judge, like him"

"Good for you, Top"

"Judges do make a lot of money" Rafe agreed.

If he got to be one. It wasn't a sure thing, those studies were pretty hard. Or so he heard. He wouldn't know by experience, his one year in college was mostly about parties and drugs. And waking up without remembering what went down last night. That happened a lot.

"How's Sarah doing? Enjoying Pogue School?" There was some mock to his question that Rafe decided to pay attention to "Can't imagine it'll be easy to get into a good college from there"

"Sarah is going to Chapel Hill, like Ward and our mother did"

Topper showed his palm "Didn't mean any offense by saying that"

Yes, you did.

"None taken" he smiled tensely. Be civil. Be civil "Bye, Topper"

Something flashed through his face, disappointment of some kind. Rafe didn't care. It took a lot for him to actually care at times, and Topper almost never got him to care.

"Dude, you didn't need to be that rude. What went down between you two anyway?"

What, indeed. Nothing really, he simply bothered Sarah and in turn bothered Rafe. Lie. And, in addition, maybe he was a little jealous. Jealous that he got to be with Sarah, while he didn't.

"Nothing. Life, I guess"

Kelce hummed, the look on his eyes told him he didn't believe him. Of course he didn't. He knew him too much.

After having lunch with Kelce, Rafe went to pick up Sarah and Kie. But it wasn't only them he was picking up, apparently. Thank fuck he got the truck for that, because the Pogues inmediatly got in. Sarah on the passenger seat, and the rest on the back. JJ sat on the floor of the car due to lack of seats. He sighed.

"What are you all doing?"

"Sarah said we could come with you to Tannyhill" Pope answered, slightly kicking JJ who was at his feet "Right?"

"It's hot, dude, almost like it's summer. You have a pool" 

"That's the global warming"

"Yeah, you said that like twenty times already, Kie"

"We live by the fucking ocean"

"Pools are cooler" JJ smiled "That's why they are making me one in my house. I'm going full kook, people!"

JJ chose to stay in that shithole that he grew up in, bought it from his father and remodeled the whole place. 

"Right, and can't you buy a car for yourself? You're the king of spending"

"I'm not!"

"You do keep buying dumb shit" Pope side-eyed him "Why haven't you bought a car?"

"I bought a new bike. You're the one who keeps telling me not to spend all at once!"

"You're telling me that none of you bought a fucking car?" 

Weren't poor people supposed to be practical? They sure weren't.

"I had the Twinkie fixed and bought a bike" 

"I'm saving it"

He turned his head to look at Pope, a little incredulous.

"All of it"

Pope just shrugged "College is expensive"

"Not that expensive"

"Most people who win the lottery end up losing everything for making bad decisions with the money. I'm not risking it. I'll keep the money safe and use it only when it's needed"

"Fair enough" Rafe looked out of the window. The people were leaving the school grounds while they bickered "Alright, JJ and John B, grab your bikes and meet us in Tannyhill"

The two pogues stared at each other.

"Yeah, that's probably for the best"

"Good idea"

It didn't take them long to reach Tannyhill, John B and JJ following after him.

The Pogues made themselves right at home, like they usually did. Shit they even had clothes there, Kie specially. He didn't mind. Not really. It reminded him of the time when his mother lived. When Tannyhill was a vibrant place full of life and people. A better time.

Rafe laid down on his hammock, the winter sun warming his skin. It didn't burn, not like the summer sun, though he didn't doubt Kiara was right about the global warming. He definitely needed to invest in something to help with that, once he got the money from the fund his mother left.

JJ took a dive into the pool, splashing water all over Sarah and Kie and almost Pope who was holding a book.

"Be careful!" he shouted.

"Fucking hell, JJ!" Kie wiped the water off her face before frowning and jumping into the water herself "Come here!"

He turned his head to Sarah who laid on her hammock, listening to whatever John B was saying.

Fucking John B.

Rafe's eyes seemed to have a life of their own that day, glancing at Sarah's body. That bikini looked great on her. And that was definitely something he shouldn't be thinking about. That was his little sister. He held her when she was a baby. He told her bedtime stories. He played with her. He shouldn't be looking at her chest go up and down, and he definitely shouldn't be letting his eyes fall to her cleavage.

He swallowed and turned to Pope.

"What are you reading?"

"Dune" Pope raised his eyes from the book "Is a sci-fi novel, pretty good. You should read it"

"Oh" he knew that book. His mother used to have it on her nightstand. Had to be somewhere in the attic "I just might"

JJ laughed, Kie was on top of him, trying to push his head underwater. 

"You guys know anything about your dad?" Pope put his book down "Like, how he's doing in prison"

"Nah. He hasn't tried to call me, I'm not surprised by that. He hates me"

"He has tried to call me a couple of times" Sarah commented as if it was the most natural thing in the world "I don't pick it up. I don't wanna talk to him"

And she never told him. Ward was calling her and she never mentioned. His jaw clenched.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

After the Pogues left, Sarah felt as if the house was colder. Not because they left, but because Rafe was suddenly so distant. He didn't even look at her.

Wheezie called and said she was staying the night at Sandra's and that only made her feel worse. 

Rafe had retreated to the office, the one that was Ward's but now was Rafe's. And honestly, Sarah couldn't stand the silence. She couldn't stand how cold he was now. How did she ever deal with it before?

"Do you want to tell me what's wrong?" she closed her arms over the oversized shirt she wore over her bikini "You are cold and silent. That's not you, Rafe"

He looked up from whatever document he had been reading.

"Why didn't you tell me Ward was calling you?"

Was that it? Was he jealous of the attention their father paid to her? Again? It wasn't her fault. She didn't mean for it to happen. She broke their relationship (No, it wasn't her. It was Ward), but that wasn't enough. Tears prickled at the corner of her eyes. When will it be enough for him?

"This again? Are you once again blaming me because dad is a piece of shit?!"

Rafe growled, slamming the table and standing up. She jumped back.

"No! I'm pissed because you didn't tell me!" In tree strides he crossed the room, stopping when he was close to her. So close she had to crane her neck to look at his face. So close, she could feel the warmth coming from his body "I'm angry, because we are supposed to be in this together, but you are keeping secrets"

Sarah shook her head, trying to blink away the tears.

"I'm not keeping secrets"

"Then why didn't you tell me?!"

"I didn't think it was necessary. We don't really talk about everything"

"Don't we?"

Now or never.

"We don't talk about what happened in the Bahamas" she whispered "Do you wanna talk about that?"

"No. I don't wanna talk"

His hand closed around the back of her neck, like she was a misbehaving puppy, and her heart jumped. Sarah let him pull her closer. She let him kiss her.

[chaotic-nick]

a/n: im writing this on my phone because it's one of those days of moving on *again*, and Nanami is just the perfect guy for it. warnings: unedited, rusty fic-writing, hurt/comfort

nanami kento x reader, friends to lover au

It's satoru's annoying habit of suddenly leaving them whenever they were out that directed Kento's eyes at (Y/n). No one hasn't pointed out how they'd become softer when he looked at her in silence, listening to her hum. Even talk about literature that he'd never read. Though today in the crowded streets of a shopping district, they sat on a bench, his back straightened when she said,

"I'm not meant for marriage, wonderful realisation last night, ken-chan." The casualness in her tone, surprising his mind.

"I am," he countered. He was often the one to worry in secret. Wondering if he'll find the love his parents found in each other. and before them, his grandfather finding love in a foreign land. "is the floor mine or yours?"

"I wanna hear yours after mine!" she gleamed. "my ex, there was this love that we shared, you know. you're in your 20s once and there's so many things happening. compared to him, I'm a very big dreamer–"

"ambitious?"

"YES! ambitious," she offered him the bag of chips she opened, "and well, I can only be his type for so long before he found someone softer ... someone who wasn't like me— and then I thought, men really are all the same. So I settled with just wanting companionship." She shrugged, "or perhaps he scared me enough out of marriage. I'll never really know. You know I kept my hair short around him— cause he liked short haired girls."

"You've grown fond to it then?" He asked, clenching him jaw.

"No, not really, I like being adventurous with my hair and you can only do so much. So, kento, why marriage?"

"I've grown up around love—" Suguru's tired body slumped beside (Y/n), in front of him Shoko who seemingly didn't care.

Their exchange of tiring him out enough when he hasn't even explored the second floor cut his and (Y/n)'s conversation. Yet his eyes stayed on her.

Always so bright and lips pulled to one side, he always wondered what was in her mind. ... and now, hearing about her ex, he wondered if the hurt he gave her was all it occupied.

Would there be any room to allow him to show her what love could be like— if he needed to wait, then how long?

"You like her?" Suguru asked cutting Kento's trance-like state as he watched (Y/n) and Shoko walk away from them.

With all the love he wished he could give her, Kento could only muster a weak, "I think it's beyond that now."

[mercyreg]

“Just Barely.”

Notes at the end!!

Strollonso “Just Barely.”

Taglist: @spookystitchery @rockingpeeble @wawawaka @sweet-allien

Model!Lance , Driver!Fernando

Summary (What started it all) :: “A possible fic where big shot model Lance spends his 20th birthday at a club where he goes home with someone, That someone Just so happens to be a World Champion Formula One Racer. More specifically Fernando Alonso. Only to find He is now the cover boy for his team by a phone call a day later.”

Day 1 ? Chapter 1?

The music was loud and the colored lights were glaring out into the streets, a beautiful glance at the party going on inside whenever the door slung open to yet another mind who wished to drown in the place. It was exactly what Lance wanted at least. The only problem being his age which was what most of his friends argued, yet it really wasn’t a problem, not when he’s touring London. 

The life he lived for being so young as people would say, is eccentric, ecstatic. Ecstasy, and Sex bundled into one with the occasional flash of camera that caught his good side. Every side of him was his good side and damn did he know it. Lance took pride in the name he’d built for himself, The natural Stroll fame he received couldn’t compare to what the model had built up for himself over his career. The very same career people claim is too young to be as fair as he’s claimed. Truth being, when your father is a trillionaire and you get blessed with insanely good looks? You’re bound to be set in life. 

Lance handed over his ID, The line awaiting for the club had finally came own to him and the group of people he arrived with. The glance over his ID and a quick smile later, Lance was in the club. Him and the group he arrived with quickly found a table and started ordering drinks, all with loud cheers and celebrations to Lance. He didn’t see the big deal, It wasn’t a milestone like 21, 18, or 16 but he had a reputation to live up to. He was hardly like that in all reality. 

The hard drugs, endless sex, and partying wasn’t the life he lived. Not when he is who he is. Really he’d never done a hard drug in his life let alone have sex with regular drinking. The scathing stories of how majority of models came to be was just not one he lived. His father was already famous as it was, giving him a free easy gateway to any career possible. Lance was undeniable in front of a camera, He knew what to do and he did it well, He even took pride in it. For that exact reasoning he usually avoided.

He looked around the bar, his mind swirling with so many thoughts as he downed a shot handed to him, The souring taste of vodka hitting him like no other. Everyone had started migrating to the dance floor, the buzz of oncoming alcohol and loud music kept everyone in cheerful moods but Lance stayed sitting. His mind was on the offer his dad said he was given, He didn’t even know what it really was for besides the fact it was some random motor sport happening all over. He had a flight to catch to Spain for it in two days, His Spanish skills did need some improving anyways. A staff member waltzed over, drink in hand and a surprising look in his eyes as he hands Lance a drink he knew for a fact, He never ordered. 

“Drink on the house for you, It’s from a guy a few tables that way.” The guy said, seeming to be in a rush as he hurries off to do his job. Lance takes the drink eyeing it before taking a nimble sip of it, expecting a tarnishing taste to ruin his mood for the night but instead being met with a pleasant fruity mixture that made his eyes crinkle with a smile.

He looked in the direction the waiter had motioned to when the drink was handed to him, his eyes searching through the people until he made eye contact with a guy across the bar, Shining and mysterious brown eyes met his, a smile playing at the man’s lips as he raised his drink, nodding his head to Lance as he took a sip of his own drink. 

Now Lance would a flat liar to say he wasn’t intrigued by the man. He was good looking and rightfully so. What better thing to do than to go talk to him? He lived by a strict “You miss every chance you don’t take” lifestyle and he wasn’t going to abandon that now. He needed excitement in his life and older men did nothing more than fulfill that just right.

He got up, holding the drink gently between his fingers before walking over to the man, navigating his way through the crowded club goers with somewhat ease. “Hi there..” He says upon reaching the now clearly VIP, The line drawing right before the Older Man’s table. Lance leans on that very line, smiling his usual big smile.

“Hello there… mí Sol.” His accent thick as the words flowed, a glint in his eyes as he looked Lance up in down, taking in the delicious sight of the young man before him. Now Lance doesn’t know a lick of Spanish, nor has he ever cared but the man sitting front of him has him craving to hear every world roll of his tongue in the language. “I’m Lance.” He says, eyes gleaming as he looked at the older male. A smirk tugged at the Spaniard’s lips as he eyed Lance again as he said “Pleasure to meet you Lancito.. Call me Fernando.”

A devilish look was in his eyes, one that turned Lance on if he was being truthful. “Fernando? I like that.” The Canadian says, testing how the name feels on his tongue, evoking a dark gleam in Fernando’s eyes that caught his attention again. He tilted his head and smiled, doe eyes meeting a ravishing gaze. “How old are you, sweetheart.” His voice called over the music, making Lance lean in a bit more, the question sounding more like a demand. “20 Today, sir.” He replied swiftly out of habit, his eyes quickly meeting Fernando’s again to be met with a grin. “Oh you’re a young one..” He said more to himself if anything, taking a sip of the drink on his table, eye contact not wavering. “Just barely..” Is all Lance could say as Fernando motioned him closer with one finger. Lance knew one thing and one thing only he stepped through the VIP area, sitting his way to sit beside Fernando. 

Tonight is going to be fun.

Okay I know what you’re gonna say! I did not forget about this idea!! I just got wrapped up in a whole of Microfics and Drabble. (Expect those soon.) I did not proof read this but bear with me. I’ll try to upload every two days for This fix and “Visit A Far.” Hope you enjoyed it!!