#stray mids scenarios

[writingforstraykids]

Sealed Promises series🖤

Pairing: Minchan

Prompt 22 -> A kiss in a rush of adrenaline.

A/N: Part of the "Sealed Promises" series, which will be a collection of unrelated short scenarios, including different types of kisses for member x member or member x fem/m/gn!reader pairings. Requests for this mini event are open🖤

do not repost, translate, or plagiarize my works in any way here or on other platforms. ©️writingforstraykids 2024 -

Minho steps down the stairs backstage and winks at Innie, holding the award they've just won. Changbin is holding on to the other two they've accepted a little earlier tonight, jokingly saying their maknae couldn't carry them all. He barely makes it off the last step when someone lifts him up and presses him against the nearest wall. Minho laughs breathlessly and wraps his legs around his hips, beaming at his boyfriend happily. 

Chan doesn't waste much time and kisses him fiercely, pressing himself as close as he can. His hands roam Minho's sides and a soft groan escapes him as the younger buries his hand in his hair. 

Minho indulges in the feeling for a moment before gently resting his hand on Chan's chest. “Channie,” he says so softly it makes Chan feel all warm and fuzzy. “Still in public.”

“We just won our third award tonight, so I think I'm allowed to kiss my very handsome baby,” Chan protests half-heartedly, knowing Minho is right. 

“You're adorable, you know that?” Minho smirks, and Chan grows shy, hiding in his shoulder as he beams from ear to ear. “I'm proud of you, Channie love. We did good.”

Chan smiles softly, planting a kiss on his neck now, slowly feeling the adrenaline subside as he's safe in his lover's arms. Everything is perfect…almost. 

“You two are disgusting,” Seungmin teases them, the others chiming in jokingly. 

“You'll be the one paying for dinner tonight if you keep that up,” Minho shuts them all up. 

Chan smirks at him and rolls his eyes fondly. “God, I love you.”

“I love you too, Channie,” he smiles happily. 

MASTERLISTS | PROMPT LIST | GUIDELINES

Taglist (Please let me know if you want to be added to or removed from the taglist):

@atinyniki @galaxycatdrawz @silverstarburst @aaa-sia @lilmisssona @kthstrawberryshortcake @channieaddict @soullostinspaceandtime @rebecca-johnson-28 @lixie-phoria @kibs-and-bits @xxstrayland @ihrtlix @pheonixfire777 @mellhwang @palindrome969 @michelle4eve @harshaaaaa @rylea08 @heeyboooo @manuosorioh @gisaerlleri @andassortedkpop @lailac13 @bbokari711 @kazuuuaaa @rssamj @wolfyychan @stellasays45 @chrizzztopherbang @ionlyeverwantedtobeyourequal @silentreadersthings @myforevermelody143 @sapphirewaves @dis-trict9

[levispersonalslave]

Pre wedding or engagement jitters request ❤️

HIII THIS IS SO CUTE

𝐿𝑒𝑣𝑖 𝐴𝑐𝑘𝑒𝑟𝑚𝑎𝑛 × 𝐹𝑒𝑚!𝑅𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟, 𝐴𝑛𝑦 𝐴𝑢, 𝑈𝑠𝑒 𝑜𝑓 𝑃𝑒𝑡𝑛𝑎𝑚𝑒𝑠, 𝑃𝑟𝑒–𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑟𝑖𝑎𝑔𝑒 𝐴𝑛𝑥𝑖𝑒𝑡𝑦, 0.3𝑘 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑑𝑠 ᡣ𐭩

“But what if something goes wrong?” You catastrophize. “It could start storming mid-ceremony, or someone could spill wine on my dress . . .”

He huffs as you continue to babble about every terrible scenario that could possibly happen. He grumbles, “I’ve checked the forecast. There won’t be any rain. And even then, we could have an indoor wedding if you’re so worried.”

“Still!” You turn to look at him, your expression one of trepidation. “Anything could happen!”

“You’re fussing over nothing,” he responds, watching you pace around the room from his spot on the armchair. His gaze flickers to the ring on your finger with a touch of pride as it catches light and twinkles. His slender finger taps the porcelain of his teacup musingly.

“I am not!” Your fingers card through the locks of your hair. He stares at you for a moment, before he sets his cup down on the coffee table with a weary sigh. He gestures for you to come closer, and when you do, his hand gently wraps around your wrist to tug you onto his lap.

He lets you shift into a more comfortable position on top of him, before brushing a stray wisp out of your face. “You are. Everything’s going to be perfectly fine, don’t overthink it so much.”

You exhale softly and rest your head on his shoulder. “Will it really, Levi?”

“Yes, my dear. I promise you, it will.”

Despite his firm tone, there’s a hint of affection in his eyes—one that’s enough to make you believe him, if only for a little while. It’s only a matter of time before the anxiety comes back to clutch and claw at your heart; but, until then, maybe you can forget the disquiet that comes with planning a wedding. You’re marrying the man of your dreams, after all, and he will surely support you through anything and everything you may encounter.

⊱ 𝑇𝑎𝑔𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡 ⊰ @the-traveling-poet , @pinkberryfox

[junnieverse]

BOYFRIEND HABITS ➳ ZEROBASEONE

➙ little things zb1 do as your boyfriend

pairing: zb1 x gn!reader

genre: fluff, slight crack :3

warnings: not proofread, lower case intended, bestfriend!yujin (scenario is platonic), implied short reader under yujin's drabble, collegeboyfriend!gunwook

a/n: *sighs in a daydreaming manner as I scream into a pillow while I'm kicking and swinging my feet*

a/n (2): you can also check out my txt and enha versions of this :3

🖇️ — 성한빈 ; SUNG HANBIN !

↳ buying you flowers

having found out you loved flowers, hanbin made it his mission as your boyfriend to buy you flowers whenever he could, which was almost every other week

most of the time he would gift them to you himself but on the days he couldn't, he made sure they were delivered to you

your home was slowly turning into a botanical garden but you loved seeing the colourful flowers brighten up your home

hanbin somehow always knew when to get a new bouquet for you and when you asked him, he had said the owner of the local flower shop he buys from was kind enough to tell him how long they would usually stay alive for

"What sort of flowers should I get you next week? We did lillies last time, how about tulips, perfect for spring." he suggests showing his whisker smile that had you weak

your boyfriend tried to get different flowers each time and would even go as far as seeing what they mean and writing a little note on that

" Lavenders for you my love. I know how hard your week was so I hope they bring you a sense of tranquility and good luck. I love you <3 " the note in the bouquet of lavender flowers he delivered read

having told him it wasn't necessary to constantly buy you flowers, he ofcourse insisted because he enjoyed buying them for you

small things like this made you realise you had won the boyfriend of the year

🖇️ — 김지웅 ; KIM JIWOONG !

↳ kissing the back of your hand

holding your hand was mandatory to jiwoong

if you were around him, he had to be holding your hand in some way or form

he has always been a complete gentleman to you too

from the day you both had started dating, he grew into this habit of kissing the back of your hand whenever you were holding hands

this little display of affection melted your heart each time you felt his soft lips place a short kiss to your hand

winter had come in and you and jiwoong decided to take a walk to a nearby park to enjoy the snow a bit despite how incredibly cold it was outside

"My hands are freezing." you pout trying to get some friction in your hands rubbing them together but it was no use

grabbing hold of your hands, your boyfriend rubbed his hands with yours in an attempt to warm them up before laying a delicate kiss to both of your hands

"My poor baby, I'll keep you warm angel." he coos at you softly as he proceeds to then put your hand in his pocket with his hand

🖇️ — 章昊 ; ZHANG HAO !

↳ brushing your hair out of your face

you could name a thousand reasons as to why hao was absolutely perfect and what little things you liked about him

one being how he had this habit of brushing your hair out of your face and then just smiling at you

it made you want to scream how he could just look at you with little heart eyes

"And so I told the supervisor-" you abruptly stop mid sentence as your boyfriend brushed your hair out of your face

hao was an attentive person and whenever you spoke he made sure all his attention was on you whilst maintaining eye contact

you had been telling him about your day at work and ofcourse he made sure to listen to you but a stray hair falling into your face distracted him from admiring your beautiful features

raising his hand, he delicately brushed the hair out placing it behind your ear

"Continue talking, I was listening. Your beautiful face distracted me." he says as he smiled warmly making you blush

zhang hao was the cutest boyfriend ever

🖇️ — 석우현 ; SEOK MATTHEW !

↳ playing/drawing on your hands

matthew tended to zone out alot sometimes or just have a short attention span when he wasn't interested in something which would lead him to busy himself

he always thought your hands were the the perfect compliment to his and constantly complimented how pretty your hands were

this brought in a new habit of his where instead of playing with his own hands, whenever he was holding yours he would gently just play with them or the rings you had

sometimes if he gets bored he starts doodling little shapes or words on your palm with his fingers

on certain occasions he would mindlessly hold your hand in his and start drawing cute things on your hand using a pen and you were happy to let him do so because you loved seeing him happy

"(Y/n), look. I drew for you." he brightly smiles showing you the little rainbow and fox drawing on your hand

for all you cared, matthew could draw on your face but seeing his smile and how happy he got, you could never stay mad at him

you were able to proudly show off the doodles matthew did because happy matthew = happy life (yes it rhymes)

🖇️ — 김태래 ; KIM TAERAE !

↳ singing you to sleep

it wasn't a secret that one of your favourite qualities about taerae was his voice

it always a source of comfort for you and he knew you loved it too

you weren't the biggest fan of thunder and your boyfriend knew that so he always tried his best to be with you whenever there were thunderstorms to help you sleep

this night was no different, it was heavily raining and you couldn't sleep with all the commotion of the loud thunder outside

curled up into a ball, you cover your ears with your eyes tightly shut silently praying for taerae to come quicker, as if on cue, you feel him hold you as he rubs your back comfortingly

"I'm here angel, shh." he says softly laying you both down as you lay on his chest

he soon starts singing to you and you immediately feel yourself relax in his arms as he sings to you

just like that you feel your eyes get heavier and you fall asleep in your boyfriend's arms

his presence was enough to make you feel less anxious but his singing was a comfort space he always had open for you

🖇️ — 沈泉锐 ; RICKY SHEN !

↳ buying you (expensive) gifts

ricky was not the best at using his words to express how he felt about you, hence he used actions to do so

this is where we came to learn one of his top love languages is gift giving and he would constantly buy you something new despite your protests

you grew to accept his gifts knowing he would get sad whenever you rejected his gifts claiming they were far too expensive but he would assure you that he would buy you the earth if he could

"Hey baby, I have a suprise for you." ricky tells you pulling a black neatly wrapped gift from behind his back

sighing, you accept the gift not wanting to see your boyfriend upset

inside was a valentines limited edition necklace from Tiffany & Co that you had looked at slightly longer than usual whilst shopping together the other day

pouting not believing him, you can't help but hold back tears seeing as how he was able to even notice you eyeing that necklace

"Ricky, thank you so much for this gift baby, but this is the fifth one this week- and it's only Wednesday." you tell him as you laugh softly seeing his shy smile as his ears go red in embarrassment

"I know but you deserve to be spoiled. And that's final." he tells you leaving a short peck on your cheek before helping you put the beautiful necklace on

🖇️ — 김규빈 ; KIM GYUVIN !

↳ ruffling your hair

you had been childhood friends with gyuvin for as long as you could remember

but during the course of your friendship, you both realised you had more than platonic feelings for one another and decided to pursue a romantic relationship

he had always had this habit of ruffling your hair ever since you had been friends and it was just an affectionate thing he had picked up

whenever he thought you looked cute or after complimenting you, he would either pat your head or ruffle your hair

"Okay okay, you win Gyuvin." you surrender to your boyfriend's heartless tickles as you try calm yourself down

reaching for your hair, he ruffles it before gently patting your head as you pout

"You're messing my hair up."

"Well you still love me because I'm the best boyfriend ever."

he leaned over and placed a chaste peck to your forehead and displayed the most heartwarming puppy like smile

you were undoubtedly whipped

🖇️ — 박건욱 ; PARK GUNWOOK !

↳ leaving you cute notes

this had been something gunwook started doing ever since he had a crush on you and would send you notes as your secret admirer

" You seemed quite sad today :( here's some strawberry milk to hopefully cheer you up. " the sticky note read with a small strawberry milk and straw next to it

it was small things like this that made you fall for him even before you knew who he really was

and when he did finally muster up the courage to ask you out and things were official between you both

he still made sure to leave you little notes complimenting or motivating you in any way

" Well done on doing so well this semester! I'm so proud of you babe. I'll reward you with cuddles and kisses after your lecture :) "

he would leave them on your class desk in the morning at school to even your bed side table for you to see once you had woken up and he had left prior

" Good morning darling ♡ I had to leave early for a lecture but enjoy the breakfast I made for you, see you later. " the note read

he could've left you a text message but he also knew how much you liked the cute notes and this was a special thing in your relationship

🖇️ — 한유진 ; HAN YUJIN !

↳ balancing his arm on your head

feeling a strange weight on you head, you exasperate knowing it was your best friend bothering you once again

"Ow! What was that for?!" yujin yells out as he pouts rubbing the spot in his arm that you had pinched

"I told you to stop putting your arm on my head. I'm not your human arm rest." you glare at him warningly as he sheepishly grinned

ever since his growth spurt, yujin developed this habit of resting his arm on your head

sometimes it felt like he was silently mocking you for being shorter than him

despite your attempts to stop him, yujin once again rested his arm on your head and you let him do so as you continued reading

you had also grown into this habit of pinching his round cheeks because they were just very soft and he allowed you to do so

and for that, you sacrificed your head to become your best friend's personal arm rest

[cutielights]

I am actually OBSESSED with the spider man s/o scenarios if y’all find some for tmnt PLEASE don’t be afraid to tag me

I imagine this is pre-relationship or just platonic

Spider Shenanigans

TURTLE TOWN: U still up 4 2day?

SPOOPS: Yee

TURTLE TOWN: :D

When you arrived to your meet up spot under the cover of darkness, you could hear him before you could see him due to the fact he had tried petting an unfriendly cat

“Sorry kitty.”

“Heyyy.”

“Oh Mi Gosh! Hi! I haven’t seen you in forever!”

“Three days?”

“F O R E V E R ! ! !”

And you thought Raph gave bone crushing hugs.

Swinging races across NYC, who can get to this building the fastest, or who can fall off of this roof and save themselves at the last minute in the most stylish manner? Although you stopped doing that one after you guys broke an awning.

Best believe those mid air selfies you guys took are gonna be his Lock Screen for a long while

And that’s when the rain came.

“You wanna go inside and get pizza or something?”

“Are. You. Kidding. This is the best thing ever.”

“Okay chill out. I agree with you but chill.”

This has unlocked even more competitions

Who can make the biggest splash? Who can eat the most raindrops in a minute? And no licking them off of stray pipes, that’s cheating, you monster.

The fun never ends!

At least it didn’t until people’s blinds were starting to open, and you don’t even have your mask on.

[tickle-her-senseless]

🃏: How important is joking around as part of a session?

Hiya lovely! Thanks for the ask ☺️ I don’t normally receive any of these, so it helps me to feel like an actual community member instead of a gif dispenser 😂

It depends on the type of session, I think. Bear with me as I’m going to waffle a bit before answering your question 😅

When it comes to tickling, none of us just woke up one day and said “I’m choosing this kink for logistical reasons X, Y and Z” - we just felt a unique and powerful thrill when we saw, experienced or thought about it, and eventually explored that thrill and its implications for us. However, there are definitely some big perks of loving tickling and one is the versatility of it. Depending on the occasion, it can be…

🕊️affectionate, gentle, soft

🐬playful, chaotic, raucous

🌿cathartic, soothing, therapeutic

❤️‍🔥erotic, sensual, intoxicating

🐺sadistic, torturous, unbearable

Any/all of these session dynamics, along with the various combinations of them, can be exactly what someone needs on any given day. I feel as though joking around is a massive part of the chaotic playful one, especially if it’s a switchy session. I have to be able to relax around the people I play with, so banter and teasing is a big part of it.

It can also be a big part of sadistic tickling. Misdirection, exploiting loopholes in someone’s attempts to bargain and beg, offering them a choice and picking the one they don’t choose … different type of joking of course, but still so much fun for both people as long as everyone’s actual limits are respected. For example, when I get a rare opportunity to lee, “sarcastic fake sympathy” and comments on how ticklish my >insert death spot here< is will massively enhance my experience. The ler referencing the role reversal and how I probably wish that I could do this to them instead will drive me crazy! But if they ever strayed into insults eg. “you pathetic worm” or whatever, I’d stop the session immediately.

From a ler’s POV, I can shut up if preferred but my natural dynamic is to be pretty vocal and most of that will involve joking around in some form. For instance…

Feigned sympathy: “Wow, that looks like it tickles horribly … ohhh honey … I know … I know …”

Praise/compliments: “Stop? I could … I probably should … I would, but you see, I haven’t gotten to tickle that cute little belly of yours yet. Sorry - just too tempting to pass up …”

Pretending to be worried about the noise: “Honestly, what a fuss! Maybe if I tickle you properly, only dogs will be able to hear you squealing and nobody will come to save you …”

Forcing them to count down from ten, and ambushing them with surprise tickles before they finish: “Sorry, in my defence you were slow and I was bored …”

Showing them a thirsty Tumblr post they made that week and suggesting the exact scenario, announcing a “snack break” only to nibble and suck their toes, appearing to get sidetracked and make earnest conversation for a few seconds before breaking off mid-sentence to razz their bare tummy over and over, pretending to get your index finger stuck inside their belly button and trying to wiggle it loose this way and that … there are so many opportunities for pure silliness.

So yeah, while joking around won’t be everyone’s cup of tea all of the time, eg. when doing an interrogation scene with IRL roleplay or getting extra hot and heavy etc, it usually features in my play pretty prominently. How about you, what d’you think? Thanks again for the ask, hope you’re having a great week so far 😊

[myafterlifeisbetterthenyours]

Hey there, been enjoying your content for a while now! I gotta take the new episode opportunity and request Chaz calling the reader to help him get away from Crimson, like a last minute rescue and finding a way to fake a trophy and trick the mafia, maybe some sex-as-thanks at the end, if you want to. As an addendum, this is an idea I got and plan to write my own fanfic with it, and I'd love to see your take on this scenario!

Life Saver!

Oh how could it all go so so wrong?!

Chaz had been running for, Hell, hours? It'd long since gone dark.

He held his side, a stray bullet from Crimson having hit him while he made his less than elegant escape, the man running through the bustling city that covered the majority of Greed, blood soaking the side of his shirt and quickly working its way down his pants.

Eventually, he'd duck into a back alley, wedging himself between a set of dumpsters. The shark man stayed huddled there for what felt like hours, doing his best to steady his breathing as he stayed sat there.

He'd sit there long enough for the adrenaline to wear off, and once it did, the blood loss finally hit him, the man collapsing in his hidden nook, passing out.

He'd awaken mid morning, wheezing as he stood up, the man clutching his side.

The bleeding had stopped, though his shirt and leg was absolutely soaked in blood.

That wasn't good.

Exiting the alleyway, he was entirely unsure of what the Hell to do.

So, he wandered.

He walked down the Street, body weak, occasionally being bumped into, or stepping over the occasional dead body.

But it'd be after some Imp got his head blown off, Chaz getting covered in brainmatter.

And while he initially complained, wiping his face. However as he spat out brains, he'd find his salvation in the dead Imp's hand.

A Cellphone!

So, snatching it up, he spent a long minute thinking of who he could actually call.

It's not like he had any friends. Burned most bridges. Fucked up the rest.

OH!

There was one person that didn't totally despise his guts. Someone that wouldn't kill him on sight.

So, after a minute trying to remember your number he'd finally pressed it into the phone.

It rang, Chaz desperately hoping you'll answer.

After another minute or so, you'd pick up. Before you could actually say anything Chaz blurted out.

"(Y/N)! Please don't hang up. Please!"

There was a long silence before he heard you sigh. "What do you want Chaz?"

He almost wept, pleading with you.

"Please, look I know Ive been an ass in the past, but I need your help. I've got myself in shit with the mob and your the only person in the seven rings I can trust right now!"

There was several minutes of silence before he added another desperate. "Please!"

There was another moment of silence before you sighed, telling him. "Fine... Do you remember the park where we met?"

He nodded, before smacking his forehead, telling you. "Yeah, I... I'm not too far from it."

"Alright, I can be there in 10. Be there." He released a heavy breath, the man about to thank you before you added. "Dont be seen. If your being followed by the mob, I'd suggest changing clothes, or at least covering up or something. I'll be in a red car."

Then you hung up, and so, following your instructions, he made his way to the park.

He'd manage to snatch a blanket covering up his faux tuxedo'd body. The man managing to cover his hair with a cap he snatched off some kids head.

He made it to the park fairly easily though he was still light headed from the blood loss, his head on a swivel as he watched for red cars.

As he did, he'd spot a pair of men. Men that were obviously on the lookout for sombody.

And not wanting to tempt fate, the shark demon quickly avoided eye contact, staring at the ground in hopes of garnering their attention.

Unfortunately for him, his luck hadn't turned, the set of men obviously spotting him.

He'd struggle to his feet, intending to make a runner. Or well, a shamble, man almost to the street when you finally pulled up.

"Get in!"

You yelled.

And he did, the man leaping in, the shark awkwardly balled up as you sped off, Chaz awkwardly fixing himself, having to move his ridiculous tail as you drove. Chaz sure to toss the blanket and hat, said garments immediately covering another cars window and making it crash.

"UnHoly shit! thank you!"

You didn't say anything, just driving along the street, intentionally not looking at the man.

Youd drive him back your place, making sure to take the long way with plenty of turns just in case someone was following you.

But after a while, you'd pull up to your clinic, you climbing out, coming around and helping him up.

You carried himside, the man weakly thanking you again as you helped his weakened form into a chair.

Youd quickly get to work fixing him up, cleaning and stitching up the wound, the man hissing and groaning at the pain.

"How ya feeling?" Youd ask, finally finished fixing him up.

Taking a few heavy breaths, Chaz chuckled, adjusting his seating before telling you.

"Ah, I'm alright. Will take more than a bullet to take my big dicked, sexy ass out."

You snorted, shaking your head telling him.

"Good... good."

Before you turned and smacked him right across the face.

"That was for getting mixed up with the mob!"

You then smacked him again.

"And that's for drinking all my medical grade alcohol, disappearing for half a year before calling me to save your ass, you prick!"

With that you calmly turned, grabbed your equipment and walking out of the room, the shark demon just sitting, watching as you casually walked away, man holding his sore cheek.

He'd find you cleaning your tools, Chaz awkwardly asking. "Sooo... do you still hate me?" He asked rather nonchalantly.

You paused, slumping over before snorting, shaking your head.

"Your dumbass you know that?" You chuckled, shaking your head, rolling your eyes.

Turning around, you face him, reaching out to cup his cheek, looking over the mark you'd left. You shook your head, looking into his eyes.

"You look like shit." You told him bluntly, the man breaking into laughter, you quickly following.

The both of you sharing a laugh. You sat him down, having him eat something before taking him to your bathroom, telling him to clean up.

Telling him to hand over his clothes when he gets in.

Of course he made a joke about you joining him, but after a singular look hed back down, apologising.

And so, stripping down, he'd hand you his clothes, the man taking a delightfully hot shower.

Youd put his clothes in the wash, finishing up sanitising your equipment before heading back to your room just as Chaz stepped out.

He had the decency to actually wear a towel, the past 24 seemingly taking its toll as he stumbled out the shark, towel barely staying attached as he flopped on your bed.

You just rolled your eyes, the man quickly curling up his massive tail, the man asking in a "sexy" voice, or more accurately, 'half asleep' voice if he could 'pay you back~'.

To which you threw a pair of his pants at him, a pair he'd left at your place the last time he'd been their. I.e. before he ran drunk off his ass on medical grad alcohol.

And so, while he got dressed you'd ask him who he'd managed to piss off.

The man made you promise not to get mad, you telling him to tell you or he could leave.

And so, making the sane choice, he'd reveal it was Crimson.

You were sure to throw something at him, yelling at him for being so stupid as to get mixed up with A Knowlastname.

However, it was as you were about to throw a shoe at him, that it hit you.

You knew exactly how you were gonna gat him out of this situation.

Chaz would ask what you had in mind, you simply throwing the shoe, telling him to get ready, you had somewhere to be.

Chaz would point out he was missing a shirt, and so, you'd throw him a robe, as you didn't have any shirts in his size.

You'd zip off to the "meat market".

Or as you called it, "the sketchy ass back alley market where surgeons get organs and shit for their sketchy ass surgeries".

It wasn't a pleasant place, and not one you went often, but for your purposes you were sure you could find exactly what you needed.

It took a long while to find a cadaver that matched him shockingly well. He was a lanky, recently dead shark shmuck that honestly, looked like he could be Chaz' twin.

And luckily, The dead man had a full set of teeth.

So, grabbing the dead bastard, you'd pay an annoyingly high price, Chaz promising to pay you back, befire you dragged him back to your place, and after some work on Chaz, youd get to work.

Youd check Chaz's teeth, making a mental note, and after some work, you had the cadavers chompers looking almost identical.

You knew of the Mob boss Crimson's proclivity to collect the teeth, horns or collars of his enemies, and as such took extra care that they looked authentic, Chaz spending most of the night with his mouth open.

And so, after a few hours of surgery, you had a very Chaz looking set of teeth.

And so waiting a few days and after taking some rather convincing photos of the mutilated Chaz look alike, man half burnt in a crashed car you found in some alleyway, youd manage to contact Crimson's men.

You spun a long yarn on hearing something about Chaz, you knowing him, making sure to glance over at him as you described him being a dumbass.

Of course theyd ask why you cared, you telling them you had a history and happened to find him dead, likely trying to steal a boobytrapped car, not that you shed a tear in finding him dead.

Something that got a wounded look from Chaz, the two of you sharing a drink at the time, Chaz less than subtly pulling you towards him with his tail, you smacking his tail as you climbed out, telling the man you had his chompers as well as evidence.

He'd ask what you wanted, you telling him a small sum for your effort. Removing and sanitising teeth wasn't easy after all.

And so, after some more back and forth, you set up a meeting.

Youd come face to face with Crimson himself, you handing over several images of a 'dead' Chaz, the man not saying a word till you handed over 'his' chompers.

Crimson stared at them for a looong, looong minute, before silently nodding, placing the teeth back onto the box as one of his goons handed you an envelope of cash.

With a respectful bow, you'd highfalutin it back home, blurting into your clinic, rushing upstairs with a cheer.

Chaz would pop out of the closet, the man having been waiting for the worst, the man equipped with one of your kitchen knives.

Though you didn't get the chance to ask him about it as he quickly approached, spinning you around and pulling you close.

Chaz suggested you go out and party, but luckily for the both of you, you weren't that stupid and decided to stay in and order some higher end fast food.

As well as you popping down the street for some cheep champagne.

The two of you would spend the night together, eating good food, sharing some very tasty champagne as you shared a toast to Chaz's death.

Youd somehow end up wrapped in his tail, the both of you speaking softly over your past, the man apologising for running.

For stealing from you.

For being such a useless prick.

He'd lean in close, thanking you for being the only person he could count on in all Hell, even if he didn't deserve it.

Youd lean in close, asking him if hed meant all if that, that he was actually sorry for being a prick, or if he was that same old Chaz.

He'd pause, silent for moment before sighing, the man looking back up at you before apologising again, telling you simply he was an asshole, but, well, he'd like another chance. If you'd have him?

And so, with a moment of thought, you'd kiss.

A deep, passionate kiss, the two of your curling up in bed, quickly getting down to buisness.

Youd end up curled up in bed, sheets a mess, both naked and nasty, Chaz curled up around you, nuzzling your collar as he held you close.

Youd lean down, the two of you sharing a kiss.

He'd ask if you'd, well, wanna give it another try... if you'd have him?

You'd lay there for a long minute, not saying anything until you'd finally lean in, giving him a deep, passionate kiss.

You wouldn't be an 'official thing' first a long time, especially with Chaz having to learn to be dead. But after a long time together, you'd genuinely end up loving each other.

And while it was never perfect, nothing in Hell was, and you made due.

And as cheesy as it was, you'd live Mostly happily, ever after.

[theknightmarket]

Okay, okay. Hear me out. Damien...during his college days. Long before the events of WKM. Maybe he didn't know what he wanted in life yet, maybe he did but was struggling to keep himself on track. That's where our dear reader/future DA comes in.

- Alexandrite

P. S. I appreciate the love! Hopefully I can start out on that project soon 💜

“What if I just sit here and die?”

In which Damien is plagued by indecision, and the only hope in sight is one confident stranger.   

[This is a two-parter, since this has been in my inbox for a while, and I really wanted to get something out. Here's the second part!]

TW: cursing, self-deprecation

Pages: 16 – Words: 6,000

[Requests: OPEN]

Mid-life crises were common in the university. So much so that you could expect every fifth lecture to be cancelled due to the professor’s collapsing mindset. Was this worth it? Would it lead to anything more? Or was the crumbling of the bridge catching up to you? These were questions that every member of staff asked themselves when they stepped foot onto the campus in the morning.

Mid-life crises were less common among the actual students. For one, most of them were not halfway through their lives, and, secondly, they had nothing to worry about. Half of them would have tracked down future employers, a quarter just waiting to get in on daddy’s company, and the final group filling out the few details on an army enrolment form. Really, crises weren’t only uncommon, they were near impossible to find, like tracking down a fish that didn’t know how to swim yet. Either they were rooted out at the very beginning of the year, or they learned to battle the tides – the only other option was drowning under assignments and expectations. 

And that was what made it so much worse for those select students. Their rarity left them completely alone in the educational world, fleeing from commitments as fast as they could make them. Another reason why they were hard to find was simply because they never left their rooms. They’d wake up, go to class, and then return to their homes while everyone else was out living life with the security of a life after this. It was horror to watch out the window, and torture to hear all of the pushing and nagging from the few friends they might have had. 

Damien was in this unusual group of students, and William was the friend. Go figure, they were in Damien’s dorm room, the man himself staring out the blue-stained glass at a distant football game, while Will tinkered with the knick-knacks on his shelf. If there was one detail that Damien did not fit into, it was that his friend was not pushing and nagging him. Instead, he seemed more interested in the random assortment of objects scattered around his room. 

Placing down a broken slingshot, Will sighed, “I don’t know why you’re so high-strung about this.” 

Damien could do nothing more than sigh; he wondered that too, more times than he could count on two hands. It was an unfortunate routine he had trapped himself in, one that left him in this very position after each and every lecture. He just… he found it hard to understand what everyone else found simple. The professor would say some mumbo-jumbo, a phrase he was sure the guy made up on the spot, and his classmates would nod along, like doing laps in a kiddy-pool. Meanwhile, he was left up a creak without a paddle. Eventually, it would get to be too much, and he’d flop down face first into his pillow and hope to wake up when he could get it. 

The only thing that he actually woke up to was William pounding on his door. He opened it, Will barged in, he asked what was wrong and, not long after, they were in this scenario. The third one this week, if Damien was counting correctly, but he couldn’t be sure that he was able to, at this point. 

“It’s only my entire future and wellbeing,” he replied, barely able to get the words out without straying into the fog of his thoughts. 

Will’s only response was a simple, “Exactly,” – and one that had him falling into the creaky chair beside him, still in view of the field but supported, as if thinking about this dilemma was taking a physical toll on him. 

“What if I just sit here and die?” he muttered. Really, it looked like a better option than worrying all the time. 

“Then you will be sorely missed.” 

William plucked a stack of cards from one of the shelves across the wall and flicked through it like a picture book. A few times they and their friends had gotten together for game nights, but Damien had only won once, and that was when half the group was drunk off their heads and the others too busy stopping them from hurting themselves to notice his crumbling poker-face. After that, he was the designated underdog in poker nights. 

So, gambling his way into fortune was out of the question. 

“It’s better than suffering here.”

The bed to his left dipped down as Will practically threw himself on top of it. The cards exploded out of his hands and across the sheets, as if he were spreading seeds throughout a garden. He was lucky that nothing fell on the floor, or Damien might have opened that window and thrown himself out of it. A bit of an overdramatic reaction, but what else was he supposed to do? There was only so much he could take, and anymore trouble was liable to push him over the edge, be it spilt cards, extra projects or students coming down the hall just slightly too loudly. 

Will didn’t seem bothered by it, though; he blew his moustache away from his mouth and started to collect the cards again. “Then you drop out,” he answered lackadaisically, “or you stay in, who cares? It’ll get you to stop worrying, at least.”

From his spot by the window, he watched as the university football team emptied onto the field. He didn’t know any of them personally, but, from where he was sitting, it looked like an easy life. Throw a ball, then get tackled for it - laugh along with your peers without a care in the world, except for who had the thing next. If only his days were that simple.

“I have to get this degree.” 

“Says who?”

“Every possible employer.”

Technically, this degree was a bit of a stretch. Most of the law offices just wanted any Bachelor’s, but Damien had already switched twice at the start of the year, experiences that had made him too scared to set foot near that block of offices again. He had landed on a Bachelor of Public Affairs and Policy Management, which was a mouthful, for one reason and one reason only. 

It was the one that his dart hit when he chucked it at the board. 

Finally having all the suits in one hand, Will huffed, “Ah, what do they know anyway? When I was your age, you only had to walk in with a smile and can-do attitude to get a job.”

Damien blinked. “You’re younger than me.” Not to mention that the only career that was possible in was, go figure, the military. Sometimes he questioned if his friend would be able to get any other profession, but there was no other choice than being a raging, gun-wielding madman willing to die for a badge.

“What I’m saying is,” Will shifted to sit up straighter on the mattress, “this degree should not decide your future, but you’re letting it.”

“No, I’m not,” Damien sighed back.

“Are, too!”

The image of William staring at him with a pointed figure, a bloodhound that had caught his unfortunate scent, was getting on his nerves the second it appeared. He wasn’t letting the degree decide anything, because he could barely make a decision, as is. If it were to make the choice for him, the better it would be for everyone. For him. 

Damien looked back to the football game.

“Either you get a grip on the situation, or you don’t.”

They seemed to be having fun.

“There are so many other jobs out there that you’re suited to.”

Sure, some of them were hurt, but the comradery seemed worth it.

“If you want to be stuffed in an office all day, you could be an accountant- ah, no, you’re terrible at math… Damien, are you hearing me?”

Maybe he should join the football team.

“Damien?”

God, no, he’d hate that. 

“Damien!”

He whipped his head to face Will, ready to give him a piece of his mind, but stopped short of letting it all out. He was only trying to help, he reasoned to himself, even if his ‘help’ was anything but at the moment. 

So, instead, he let his shoulders drop and eyes cast to the floor. “You wouldn’t understand, Will.”

He didn’t have the same reservations about snapping. “Like hell I wouldn’t!” William yelled, “I’ve listened to you go on and on about this course, I should think I know what you’re going through by now.” 

Now, Damien’s parents were always very hesitant to visit him, or get in touch with him in any other way – ever since he had moved out for university, they had preoccupied themselves with finding Celine a husband. He was empathetic, of course, but there was a larger part of him that was relieved for their attention being off of him. In this moment, however, he realized just how relieved he should have been. The hands on his side, the near scowl, the suspenders. Will looked like the poster boy for disappointed fathers, and Damien was not a fan of this role reversal. 

He shook his head and leaned forwards, lacing his hands over his mouth, “I’m the one talking, and I barely know what I’m going through.”

“Look,” Will pat his shoulder, “the worst thing you could do it drop out entirely, so why not stick with it, eh?”

“But what if it’s all a waste of time?”

“Then it’ll be a waste of time. Hell, you could always come join me in the military.”

This forced a laugh out of Damien, something he was thankful for, but confused at his sudden joke. Hadn’t he just been chewing him out? He chocked it up to wanting to change the mood. “Very funny, Will.” 

He didn’t laugh. 

“Are you serious?”

That’s when his cold façade wilted, and he pounced forward to grip his friend’s upper arms. That old smile was back, and a large grin paraded onto his mouth. There was practically the sparkle of a thousand stars in his eyes as he spoke with such enthusiasm that Damien would have thought he was recounting a moment of heroism. 

“Oh, think about it! We’d go into battle together, whip out our gats, and get shot in the chests by the enemy—” a wistful sigh escaped him, “—can’t you just imagine it?”

With a chuckle more nervous than before, Damien removed his friend’s hands and placed them back on Will’s hips. It was a weird movement that he was surprised he let happen, but the man was more focused on Damien’s words of, “I think I would prefer something… less life-threatening?”

A pout. “You’re no fun.” After he moved to return the playing cards to the shelf, giving Damien time to breath in his personal space again, he bounced back to the bed. “And a career in law isn’t life-threatening?” he partially joked. 

“Not any more than a battlefield.”

A deadpan look overcame Will, a slow blink, and then he counted on his fingers while replying, “Political violence, riots, assassinations…” 

Damien threw his head back with a groan, some of his hair coming askew.

“Ah. Sorry, friend.”

He really knew how to cheer a guy up, huh? Why he even called on him anymore was beyond him, but who else was free to listen to his lamentations. He was becoming a broken record, though he wasn’t happy with it, and he had all but exhausted the rest of his options. Mark gave up after his first crisis, and Celine told him the cut and dry without a second opinion, leaving William the only one to actually hear him out, even if his advice was less than good. After him, the only thing left was talking to the wall. 

Not that he needed to resort to that, because, seconds later, there was a knock at the door. Damien squinted at his friend, suspicious of some ambush he’d orchestrated, but he looked just as surprised to hear the sound as he was. So, while he watched, Will moved to swing the wood open. 

“Ah, Celine!”

God, no. 

“Is Damien in there?”

Why did she decide that now was the best time to check up on him? His inner complaints didn’t matter; at Will’s chipper reply of, “Yep,” she shouldered past him and glared down at her brother, even more disappointed than Will had been. 

Celine had always been an oddball, and he could say that, because he had spent the first sixteen years of his life tied to her hip. Whenever their parents told her to do something, she would ask why, and when they answered, she would ask why again. To the point, she was curious and determined, a combination that the locals thought discouraging for a woman. Of course, she didn’t care. The snide comments rolled off her like water on a duck’s back, and she went about her days doing whatever she wanted to. Even now, she had invested her life into the dark arts, one of the hobbies that separated her from the rest of her family, but Damien never saw reason to stop her. He was worried for her, granted, but that was only because of certain… events that proved it was a dangerous practice. He was just glad to have her in his life. 

Although, at that moment, he regretted sticking so close to her. 

“What are you doing?” she demanded the second she stopped within two inches of him, a glower clear on her face. 

“Wallowing.” 

“Why?” 

“I don’t know what I’m going to do with my life.” 

Surmising the last half hour in two sentences put things into perspective, but that just made him fall deeper into the pit with how much time he had wasted. 

Celine, expression as blank as a mannequin’s, answered bluntly, “You’re going into the law sector.” 

Damien could do naught but sigh. That much was easy to get, it was just the next months that were going to be tough. “I know, but…” he trailed off, trying his best to avoid her scornful eyes.

“Not ‘but’. You’re going to do it, and that’s final.”

“How do I get through the year?”

Celine looked at him like he was dumb. “You do the work, take the exams, get the degree.”

“You say that like it’s simple.” 

He hadn’t realized that the ‘you really are stupid’ look on her face could intensify, but, apparently, it could. “It is.” 

Damien hated it when she looked down on him – literally and figuratively, and, this time, the combination of the two exchanged his sorrow for something else. The way she spoke boiled his blood, she hadn’t even gone to university, and there she was, talking to him with sure-fire confidence that was going to get her into trouble! Damien loved his sister, he really did, but there was only so much advice and simplification that he could handle. Will, who was standing idly in the corner with a notebook in one hand, had loaded him with the bags, while Celine added the last straw that broke his back. 

“You know what?” he huffed, shooting to stand up straight. His eyeline met Celine’s, passed by to glare at William, and then returned to his sister. If they really wanted to give out unnecessary opinions, they could commentate that football game. “Out.”

“Damien,” she spoke, simple but stern, but he wasn’t having it. 

“Not ‘Damien’—” he pushed at her shoulders and guided her towards the door again, Will standing to attention beside her, “—leave my dorm room. Go on, out you go.”

Halfway through the doorway, Celine called over her shoulder, “You’re going to have to decide sooner or later.”

“Oh, I thought you’d decided for me.”

“Dam—”

She was cut off by Damien yelling, “Goodbye!” and slamming the door behind the two of them. He felt slightly bad when one of his photos collapsed onto the floor from the shaking of the wall, but he himself was shaking too much to care. To ensure he wouldn’t be bothered again, he dragged the wooden chair away from the window and lodged it underneath the door handle, falling onto it within the next second. 

His group of friends were pushy, stressful and beyond annoying in the best of occasions – but they were his friends, and he wouldn’t have it any other way. He just… wanted some time to talk through his knot of thoughts without comments or advice or anyone trying to convince him to do anything else. Yes, he realized that he had no clue what he was doing, but he didn’t need anyone coming in, uphauling his life and telling him what to do with it. He only wanted to be okay. 

That got incredibly harder to do when yet another hit against the door caught his attention. All of his thoughts of peace and calm smashed out the window like frantic doves, while Damien himself all but chucked the chair back where it came from. Not even a second into his break, and someone had to interrupt him! He swore that if it were Celine and William again, he would break something. 

“I told you—oh.”

Except it wasn’t them. In fact, it wasn’t anyone he had spoken to before in his life. 

You were practically a stranger to him. 

That was a regrettable fact, due in no small part to you having shared a class for the last year and a half. Despite Damien not speaking up in class a lot, there was the odd moment that he would hear you answering a question or posing a problem to the leading professor. They always had the ability to make him more secure in the knowledge that you asked about, but it didn’t help when you understood something completely. Hell, sometimes he’d be on the brink of walking up to you and getting the answer from you directly but chickening out at the last second was a fond habit of his. To conclude, he knew nothing of you and you nothing of him. So, that begged the question: why were you standing outside his door, fist still raised in the air and a shocked look in your eye?

“Uh, hi?”

“Hello.” 

You visibly swallowed. Had he made a bad impression already? What was he saying, of course, he had. 

“I’m, uh, I’m new- well, new to the campus, I mean,” you laughed lightly to stave off some of the awkwardness that permeated the space between you both, “I’ve been here a while, and I just wanted to introduce myself to the people around my dorm.” You sent a glance over his shoulder and, presumably, spotted the toppled chair. “Sorry if I disturbed you?”

Damien rushed to answer, “No, no, not at all. I just had some visitors.” He could feel the heat radiating off his face, no less sure that it was doused in a fire-hydrant red. 

Nodding slowly, a smile crept over your mouth. “Okay, well, I’m just down the hall in 53. I’ll be seeing you around?”

Damien, too, nodded, but with double the speed and triple the nervousness. He was terrible at socialising, and the icing on the cake was when he, barely conscious of his body, outstretched one hand. Etiquette training from his parents really paid off, huh? He’d made a fool of himself in the first minute of meeting someone, probably even less if you’d heard his yelling. Maybe this was a sign that he should switch university entirely, get away from this horrid introduction with one of the only people willing to be friendly with him. And, great, he must be flailing in the interaction because even his hand is blushing now!

Or going insane, if him forgetting that hands don’t blush was anything to go by; in reality, you were just shaking it back. 

Your hand was… warm. That was the first thing he noticed, the second being the style of your handshake – it was firm and definite, but not mean-spirited. Analysing it might have been weird, but it was the only thing he could do to stop himself from spiralling or squeezing too hard. 

The pressure left quickly, though, and while your mouth moved to say a formal goodbye, Damien didn’t hear a word of it. He was too focused on the possibility of someone to talk to who wasn’t a childhood friend. It both excited him and had him biting back panic. 

As calmly as he could, he closed the door after you’d moved down the hallway. God forbid you or anyone else see him such a mess. He made it a half-step in front of his bed before he collapsed dramatically overtop it. He would have to tread lightly in lectures now, even more than he had before, and that was not something he was looking forward to. 

That following morning, when he shuffled out of the floor of students and into the classroom, Damien was prepared. His plan was set in stone; to get to his desk, set out his books, avoid any and all eye contact with you or anyone associated with you until the class was over, and then leave, possibly to never return, but that was par for the course. He had just about completed the first part of his plan when you arrived, followed swiftly by a couple of your friends. 

Damien dared not look up from the wood as you situated yourself, in your usual seat and ready to get started. He appreciated your enthusiasm, but it didn’t stop at the requirements of electoral candidates. No, unfortunately for him and his steadily cracking stone, it extended to your social skills. 

Once your eyes caught his, you didn’t miss a beat in stalling your conversation with a friend to shoot him a smile and wave. Damien could feel his heart in his throat even after you had looked away. That spark in your eye – it was so mesmerizing, like a firefly that he wanted to put in a jar for safe-keeping. It was a weird feeling to suddenly want to learn about something, be engaged in the present, just because you were. It almost made him laugh; it took you two seconds to do what all of the guidance counsellors on the campus couldn’t do in two years. You really were something, huh? 

While Damien was busy flipping his brain on, you were barely awake. To be honest, you hadn’t slept well the night before, and a class as early as this one was bound to make you none the better. Upon stepping foot through the room’s door, you had been ready to call it quits right then and there – but who did you see but that guy, the one with the dark, combed back hair and alarmingly striking eyes, sitting on the opposite side of the room to you. Damien, if you remembered correctly from the first day on the course. Back then, you had sat at the back, and watched as everyone told the professor their name, his reactions, their reactions to those reactions, and so on, and so forth. It was an exercise in futility because you almost immediately forgot everything you had paid attention to. Or you thought you had, completely and utterly blown from your mind. 

But then there was Damien. Now, you hadn’t said a word to him in the time you’d been in a class together and you hadn’t even known he lived on campus until yesterday. It was a turn of fate that the room George Jacobs had vacated was down the hall from him, and that he was the only one still there to answer the door. 

Everyone else had been down watching that football game, cheering on their selected team. However, you had no sentimental attachments to anything yet, you didn’t care which team won or lost or got injured or called out unfairly by the referee. You were more concerned with the people who would be around you for the next couple months, though your worry went uncomforted because every door that you rapped upon was empty. Either that, or they heard you coming and vowed not to open up. 

You made your way down the hall, shined shoes reflecting the lights of torches on the wall. Even though it was only just getting into autumn, the nights were getting darker, and the days were getting shorter, and you were wondering if investing in fluffy jackets was the right thing to do. As you waltzed across the clean rug, you let your eyes wander. The decorations weren’t half bad; a bunch of old but pretty paintings spread across the walls, and plant pots lining certain doorways. A golden fire extinguisher hung worryingly used at the end, but before you could get to it, you stopped. 

From out one of the rooms, 61 or 62 from your point of view, two people exited. Exited was a general term, really, because they looked to be more shoved out than leaving on their own accord. They exchanged a few words before the darker haired one grabbed the other’s hand and dragged them down the corridor opposite you. Neither spared you a glance before they were out into the stairwell, but that was fine by you, because you were more focused on the door slamming closed after them. 

Anyone else might have been put off by such a clear sign of aggression, but you were far from anyone else. This, to you, only showed that someone was home, and that was someone you were going to introduce yourself to. Besides, you had come out here to see who you were going to live near, and a nameless student with at least two friends and anger issues was a hell of a way to start. 

So, with more of a bounce in your step than before, you jogged up to the door. It loomed in front of you, the peephole practically staring daggers into your soul, until you raised a fist and knocked a rhythm against the wood. Barely a second had gone by before a crash slipped around the hinges and the door whirled open. 

“I told you—oh.”

Your eyebrows jumped halfway up your forehead, registering a slightly familiar face and a completely unfamiliar reaction. It was unexpected and had you pressing your backfoot into the ground in surprise. You’d noticed Damien once or twice in the back of the class, the guy who was always present and presumably ready at the start of the lecture. Thinking back on it, you don’t think you’ve seen that classroom empty. He’d never taken a sick day or been late, and that left you with a somewhat skewed impression of him, not that you knew it was sorely incorrect. 

But all in all, you’d thought that the silent, collected bystander in the class would be the last one to burst out with such a tone. You were left subtly speechless while he looked on in apparent disbelief. 

“Uh, hi?”

“Hello.”

And the conversation continued – if you could call it that – in relative awkwardness. You tried to be nice, introduce yourself as your family had taught you to, but you couldn’t help but think that something was… off about the interaction. Maybe it was the timing, maybe it was you, or maybe it was just dumb luck that Damien didn’t look like he wanted to talk then. The interaction was quick and efficient, the worst combination for a good chat to be, in your opinion. It left you wondering if you should apologise and start again, maybe during work hours when you weren’t intruding on his personal time. 

While the whole moment was lacklustre, there was one take away that had you looking forward to the next day; Damien had shaken your hand, not something you had expected, but it gave you some information, all the same. A handshake was indicative of someone’s personality, and this time, you were very interested in the results. First of all, Damien had initiated it, so the leading theory was that he was confident when in his own space, when he had the most control. Second was something that contradicted it, though, since his barely-there pressure hinted that he was not sure in his social skills but that he still had them. Likely engrained in him from an early age – like singing a song, but not understanding the lyrics. Finally, and this was your thought as you began to walk back to your room, you were the one to let go. You weren’t a shrink, not by any means, however, you thought yourself good at reading people. It seemed that Damien’s impulse to shake your hand might have started from tradition but continued with the physical touch of your hand. That look in his eye was far-away, the pupils locked onto your handshake, and a faint scattering of red along his cheekbones. People in the university often desired closeness, and you had a feeling Damien was no different. You almost apologized when you let go. 

To conclude, Damien, confident in his area, well-taught but timid, impersonally romantic, and, although it was something you didn’t catch from his handshake, handsome to boot. To say you were intrigued would be an understatement. 

And that was exactly why you found yourself checking the clock and walking up to Damien’s desk. You had to manoeuvre around a lot of other tables, giving him plenty of time to notice you, but he was still staring distantly at his notebook when you came to a stop next to him. 

You cleared your throat. “Hey, there.”

The second that the first syllable made its way out of your mouth, he looked up in surprise, like you’d just told him the president had died. His expression was almost horrified, which wasn’t the way that you wanted to start this interaction, but you could adapt. 

To ground yourself, you leaned back on the desk behind you. The wooden legs creaked and bent under your weight, though they stayed upright while you collected your thoughts. You didn’t want to scare him, far from it, you just wanted to get to know him a little. You weren’t the best at making friends, most of the people you spend time with being the people from down your street when you were a child, so this was a new, but welcome, challenge. 

But first things first, you had to make sure he wasn’t going to run away at the first sign of you being anything but what was expected. 

“I’m sorry if I came off weird last night,” you started, edging your bets with a small chuckle. 

Damien’s eyes darted around your face, looking for something of which you had no clue, but it wasn’t long before they landed back on his notebook. “Yeah, no, it wasn’t… you’re fine.”

“Thanks, I’m, uh, not normally like that, I guess it was just weird being in a new place without any family.” 

“Well, that’s not always a bad thing.”

Your eyebrows furrowed with this new information. It was a comment you hadn’t expected from him, but you had a feeling that it had something to do with those people coming out of his dorm room. After all, thinking back on it, that first one had the same dark shade of hair as the man before you did. It wouldn’t hurt to take a chance.

“Were the people last night your family?”

This encounter was going swimmingly, since he, apparently, hadn’t expected that from you either. This was a lesson in not judging a book by its cover, huh? 

It took him a second to realise that he was still in a conversation, but Damien’s answer came a moment after. “One of them, yes. My sister, Celine, my twin, actually.” 

“Oh, is she at the university, too?”

“No, no, she isn’t a fan of mass educational environments. Will isn’t either, but that’s what make them a pair.”

“Will?” 

By this time, a fuzzy feeling was rising in your chest, the same kind that you’d get when you clutched a hot water bottle close to you on a cold night. This was a conversation – you were having an actual conversation with someone you’d just formally met! You would have pat yourself on the back had you not been in public, but you noted it down for future reference when you were alone again. 

“Yes, he’s my friend. I’ve known him for years, ever since he accidentally shot a slingshot through my bedroom window.”

That drew a laugh from you, one that surprised the both of you as it came out. Etiquette be damned, that was funny, so you let your true feelings show. 

Your sudden chuckling brought forth Damien’s own few mimics, only interrupted by you shifting your arm to gesture towards your own group of friends. 

“That one’s James,” you commented, ‘that one’ being a blond, more on the shorter side, guy, heavy-set with an ironed shirt that he was nearly bursting out of. You moved your hand to the left, now pointing at a laughing woman, who had an arm wrapped around another boy’s shoulders. You supplied, “Kate and Michael,” before nodding at the last person sitting around the conglomeration of desks, “and Edward.” 

“They seem, uh, nice.”

It hadn’t been a joke, and yet you laughed anyway. You stopped yourself before it attracted any more attention than you had already garnered, and muttered, “Yeah, they sure seem it.” 

“I mean it,” Damien replied, grasping for his pen in the wake of a steadily rising blush. 

“I know you do,” you replied, humour clear in your voice, “but just you wait until you meet them.” 

Meet them? Damien’s redness shot out of him like a bullet as his eyebrows furrowed. You wanted him to meet your friends, or did you mean in general? He weighed the options and found that he’d rather you introduced him, not even considering the fact that you would be introducing him. 

“Unless you don’t want to, of course,” you rushed to say when you noticed he looked almost conflicted.

“Oh, no, I do want to!” The words fled from him before he was aware that he was thinking them. It was only when he you smiled a bright, contagious smile, that he started to fiddle with the cap of his pen once more.

“Great!” You might’ve been embarrassed to admit that your heart beat slightly faster, your hands started to sweat, and the urge to scream tapped at the back of your throat. “We’ll get it set up, then, shall we? I was thinking maybe tomorrow at 12, or, if you’re busy, we—” 

“Can everyone take their seats?”

Your head snapped up on your shoulders, spine straightening, and your attention directed to the suddenly full classroom. Or, rather, not suddenly; you’d been too enthralled by getting Damien to talk to your friends that the students filing into the room flew under your radar – not even the person who normally sat in the seat you were occupying cared enough to ask you to move. They, notably, had set themself up where you normally would sit. 

The one time the class was actually full, and it was the time you were definitely going to embarrass yourself for it. 

Ignoring the brightening of your face and choking down an awkward laugh, you met the eyes of the professor at the front. He had this very specific look that you never thought you’d see directed at yourself, but there was a time for everything. It was almost smouldering to look at, and you weren’t sure if it was your face burning from your blush or from his glare.

“Oh, sir, I’m not—” you rushed to explain. 

The glare worsened. You swallowed. 

“Everyone, take your seats.”

You shuffled into the wooden chair of the desk you had been sitting on, confident in only one thing; that you’d made a fool of yourself. The impulse to slam your head through the table was strong, but you fought it if only to avoid further attention. Sheepishly, you cast a smile towards Damien, who offered back a smaller, but still genuine, grin of sympathy.

You could do this. Totally. Why wouldn’t you be able to? It was just sitting next to a potential new friend who had seen you mess up thrice now. 

What could go wrong?

 

[‘Hey, Alexandrite :D

Woah, two two-parters in a week?? Seriously though, apologies for the wait, exams have been kicking my ass. Also, this is a two-parter mainly because I think I just really like writing Damien’s dynamics with his friends. I’ll definitely be getting the second part out after exams all finish, though, so I hope it’ll be worth the wait]

[c-estmabiologie]

brave on time (Stray Gods fic)

I finished Stray Gods! Time to write about Freddie because I'm love her! Warning: Pretty major mid-game spoilers

Also on AO3

Dying was the easiest thing Freddie had ever done. It’s everything that keeps happening now, in the after-dying part (is afterdeath a word? You know, like afterlife?), that’s really hard.

She can hear Grace moving around the apartment, can pinpoint exactly where she is and what she is doing by sound (she really never takes those shit-kicker boots off except to sleep): now she is closing the door behind Apollo and dragging the deadbolt home; now she is opening the fridge and staring at a bunch of leftover takeout that she doesn’t actually want to eat; now she is outside Freddie’s bedroom door; now she is pacing; now she is back at Freddie’s door.

Freddie feels her heart splash in her chest every time Grace stops just outside her door. She almost calls her in because she wants to imagine that it could be so simple: Grace would just come into her room and flop onto her bed next to her and they wouldn’t have to talk about anything tough at all, not like death, not like literally going to the Underworld and back, not like why she’d let the Furies take her in the first place.

And that had been the easiest thing in the world, letting a Fury’s blade slice into her gut. It hadn’t even hurt that much. When she pressed her hands against her belly now, there was nothing. No phantom pain, no scar, no proof that she'd launched herself into harm's way at all.

But why’d you do it, Freddie?

No, she isn’t ready to face that question down. Not because she doesn’t know the answer.

The answer:

I died because I started a band so I could hear you sing almost every day. It was the same summer you were thinking of moving out of state because you wanted something new, and the first time I ever thought I might lose you. I never told you how much it meant to me that you changed your mind. I died because the first time we sang together in school choir our voices fit together like stacked bowls. My voice was higher then, but you always had range. When we sing now we still fit like that. I like that I chose a band name that you hate because it gives us something stupid and familiar to argue about where you always let me win. I knew I liked you before I was sure I liked girls. I died because you have been like a sun to me. I didn’t want to make things weird when we had such a good thing going, so I was happy just to be beside you, in your orbit, and bask a little in your glow. I died because you’re a muse and you’re amazing at it. You’re taking, like, a cosmic shift in your reality in stride and just killing it. And you’re taking me along for the ride? It’s more than I could have imagined and not just because I literally never imagined this particularly weird scenario. I died so you could keep being amazing. I saw you stepping up to be a freaking Idol with god-like powers and couldn’t let that stop just because some divine retribution showed up to end you. I died because I wanted you to keep singing. I died because I love you.

She knows the answer, of course she does. It’s just too hard to say. Much harder than dying was.

But what if she were brave enough to say it? Maybe not all of it — some of her thoughts are too naked and vulnerable and should definitely just stay thoughts — but what if she said the part about love out loud? Who knows, maybe Grace has been secretly pining after her all this time, wondering if it would feel weird if they kissed or exactly right, maybe even thinking about her and pressing her palm against herself…

She knows Grace well enough to know that the worst possible outcome is just that she only loves Freddie as a friend and will only ever love her that way. It would sting but it wouldn’t be a shock or anything — she’d played this possibility out in her head before enough times and broken her own heart over it that feeling it for real would be familiar. They could still go on as Grace and Freddie: besties and her declaration would linger like a message written in the condensation on a mirror. It might pop up every now and again, like a nice reminder, but it would be easy enough for either of them to wipe away.

Freddie sighs. Grace isn’t outside her door anymore, not that Freddie had expected her to wait outside forever. She’s pretty sure that Grace has left the apartment completely even though she didn’t hear her leave. There’s that strange sort of stillness that you only get when you’re the only one home. It was fair for Grace to leave — she still has to prove herself to a pantheon that she wasn’t a murderer before the week is up, after all. It’s not like she can sit around the apartment all day just in case her friend decides she’s chill with everything that just went down. She’ll be back eventually, just like Freddie will have to come out eventually, if only because she’s alive again and has to do the sort of living people stuff that means leaving her room (she already kinda has to pee).

There’s also the matter of the eidolon inside of her, returned life ( immortality, Freddie, you’re technically immortal now if you want to be ) with an unfair price. Freddie hates the bitter part of her that’s ungrateful for being alive and breathing and needing to pee. She hates that she has to go through the motions of living when she’d already accepted being dead. She’d made the greatest sacrifice for Grace and Grace’d been like no thanks, I need you with me . Which is its own kind of love, she guesses, selfish and just as unfair as the other, more romantic stories of heroes going to the underworld.

“What the hell, Freddie,” she says out loud to herself, to the band posters on her wall, to the tidy spines of the books on their shelves, “you should be freaking out a little more. You’re a muse.”

She rolls over onto her stomach and presses her face into a pillow so she doesn’t have to look at it. It all looks exactly like it did before she died. Nothing has changed except her. 

She doesn’t know what to do about being a muse. Should she be packing up her room and shipping herself off to Olympus? Should she be out beside Grace, interrogating gods and trying to solve the last muse’s death? (if she’s being truly honest, that’s where she wants to be.) Grace had been forced into this just as much as Freddie had, but she’d made it look so straightforward and cool. Freddie doesn’t think she has that kind of effortless way in her that Grace has. But she could figure it out. Grace had been a muse for like four whole days before giving it up, so maybe she could share some tips when she gets back. But that also means that she’ll have to actually talk to Grace. 

“You can do this,” she says with her face still smushed into the pillow, feeling decidedly unmagical and a little bit sweaty. She hears the jingle of keys in the door. She hears the squeak of it swinging open and remembers the can of WD-40 that she’d bought three months ago that was still sitting under the sink, waiting for its day to un-squeak the hinges, just like she always remembers when she hears the door open. She hears Grace’s boots cross the floor. 

She can do this. 

A gentle knock. She can do this. 

“Freddie?” Grace’s voice is a single bowl waiting to catch her. Freddie pushes herself back up to sit on the edge of her bed. Presses her sock-feet into the floorboards. Every second in the space after the question feels so much harder than anything she’s ever done. Still. She stands up to open her door to Grace.

She can do this. 

[silken-threads-bah]

I know you do sources not on the list but feel free to deny this if you're too unfamiliar. Fyodor Dostoevsky and/or Nikolai Gogol from Bungou Stray Dogs, feel free to make them as source-divergent as you wish. If possible, we would like them both to be janusians/protector-persecutors and memory holders. Anything else is up to you, and I mean it when I say source divergence is not an issue. Thank you. :)

I hope this is alright. Their source seems very interesting, I ended up reading more about it than I probably needed to. As always, feel free to take or leave whatever you'd like. I saw your follow up ask but went with the shorter template since I did both of them, hope that's alright. - Scott

Name: Fyodor, Ford, Fjord

Age: mid 20s

Pronouns: he/it

Gender(s): mascnull

Orientation: bisexual (preference for men), arospike

Source(s): bungou stray dogs

Role: janusian and memory holder

Personality: very composed and calm, it's difficult to get a reaction out of him in any scenario. Despite how emotionless it seems, he will hold a grudge and remember slights against it for a long time. He doesn't take many things seriously, flippantly brushing off people's emotions or going so far as to make fun of or tease people for their feelings. He typically remains aloof and cold to those it doesn't know, but once he gets close to them it will open up a bit, showing a slightly warmer side of himself.

Interests: christianity/theism in general. He finds the moral implications of living life by a book and religious code to be very intruiging. It will also strike up arguments about morality and politics at random and spends long hours researching about ethics.

Extra info: One thing it does take seriously is his role in the system. It will go much further than fully needed when protecting his headmates, cutting off contact and breaking off relationships whenever he feels he needs to.

Faceclaims:

Name: Nikolai, Nova, Near

Age: early 20s

Pronouns: she/it/they/he (possible neos: por/ports, card/cards, xey/xem)

Gender(s): pangender. may be a bit of a xeno hoarder, likes to keep a carrd or list of the genders she identifies with.

Orientation: pansexual

Source(s): bungo stray dogs

Role: janusian, memory holder.

Personality: very theatrical, she plays up her reactions to everything. Full of energy and dedicated to the task of being the biggest pain in the ass as possible, they will spend as long as possible to crack whoever it's decided to pester. with her bubbly disposition, it seems like it would be fairly even tempered, but the slightest thing could set him off. They don't take shit from anyone and will make it their sole mission in life to get back at anyone that has wronged her, even if the slight is all in her mind. Very self centered in general, can easily brush off the pain of others as long as they weren't also hurt in the process. This is subject to change if they get close to others however.

Interests: psychology (mainly cognitive psych, however she dabbles in researching abnormal psychology as well), animals (she is particularly interested in ferrets and other mustelids), learning card tricks and general sleight of hand/"magic".

Extra info: she leans more toward persecutor than protector, mainly reacting towards slights against itself rather than things that happen to the entire system. When she lashes out, she tends to do so in a very forward, verbally agressive way instead of just blocking or avoiding the person.

Faceclaims:

[thewickedjazzy]

“𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐂𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐥𝐞'𝐬 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐨𝐜𝐨𝐥”:

➳ No homophobia, transphobia, islamophobia, racism, sexism, or zionism. This is a safe space—leave negativity elsewhere.

➳ This blog contains 18+. Mature content is discussed in quite a few of my stories as I made it very clear that I'm in my mid-twenties. If you're below 18+, feel free to enjoy the rest of my fluff, angst, etc.

➳ Blogs listing ages under 18 will be blocked if they interact with my MDNI fics. Additionally, failure to follow the DNI criteria will result in blocking to maintain a respectful and appropriate environment.

➳ I write for all Bungou Stray Dogs characters. I’m pretty caught up with the manga, beast AU, light novels, etc. So feel free to request any characters. You may find me writing for Jujutsu Kaisen as well.

➳Requests for headcanons, short fics, or drabbles are welcome, but please be specific with what you want. also, keep in mind that I won’t write for a reader with a set personality—reader is meant to represent anyone and everyone.

➳I don't write for male!reader, but I do write for gn!reader and afab!reader. never request minor ships or underage characters in nsfw scenarios.

➳No requests for incest, or other themes outside the specified content warnings.

➳If you see a trope or scenario already requested, feel free to request something different for more variety.

➳ Please be patient with responses; I work through requests in the order they’re received.

You can finally head to 'WICKED ARCHIVES'.

[minminyoonjii]

Notice: Hiatus

I think I should give a head's up of me not being as active as I was. The thing is, my first semester started this week and assignments are coming in fast. I may upload but probably after my mid-terms. Thank you so much to those who gave my writing a chance.

Reposts are truly appreciated, those who know what's happening within the fanfic/art community know that likes are not the right form of interacting on this platform. I hope you do the right thing <;3 *P.S: I'm going to pin this post so the U.M will be shifted, if you want to see my overall masterlist just click on the link 💛💛

[comfort-questing]

Here is your new card for Bad Things Happen Bingo. Happy writing!

—-

all right, crew! let’s go!

if anyone has any suggestions, I’m open for bingo requests regarding (UPDATED 12/24)

- No. 6, my new obsession (most familiar wi anime but planning to read manga)

- Dungeon Meshi (UPDATE: now finished the manga)

- Yona of the Dawn (I’m almost caught up in the manga, can’t believe I missed that one)

- Frieren: Beyond Journey’s End (anime)

- Genshin Impact

- Fire Emblem Three Houses

- Fate/Stay Night or Fate/Zero (idk the other fate series stuff v well) wi some reservations because some characters are Kinda Icky for me

- Critrole campaign 1 or 2 or TLOVM

-  early or mid RWBY (I haven’t kept up since the end of v6)

- Lord of the Rings (familiar wi other Tolkien stuff but I don’t think I can match the Silm fandom and I don’t follow ROP) ALSO ABSOLUTELY The War of the Rohirrim which I saw an loved so much

- generic/nonfandom scenarios

——-

REQUESTS IN PROCESSING/PROGRESS:

- “stitches,” Genshin, Wri and Neuvilette

——

REQUESTS COMPLETE:

- “guilty conscience,” Dunmeshi, dragon!Falin

- “sword fight,” Genshin, Furina experiences a brush with her newfound mortality one night by the docks

- “poisoned weapon,” TLOVM

- “Headache/Migraine,” FE3H, Claude helps out Dimitri (possibly getting a part 2 sometime heh)

- “hiding an illness,” Genshin, the tone-deaf bard gets a cold

- “Friendly fire,” FE3H, Edelgard and a stray arrow from Claude

- “Falling through the Ice,” FE3H, requested by a discord friend :)

- “get it over with,” generic nonfandom

- “Barely Conscious”/”Cradling someone in their arms,” TLOVM (at blinkin last, sorry, heh)

[mara-xx217]

(One of) Their First Gifts [Dbd The Twins Commission/OC]

This is a commission for @hexheathen! I hope you enjoy this fic cause I enjoyed writing it~

No Warnings Apply

They told her that it was pointless, but Hex couldn't help herself! Once she sets her mind to something, it's only a matter of time before she gets her desired outcome, no matter how long it takes! (or how many times her face is mauled-)

Hex’s breath came out in short, visible puffs as she struggled to find her bearings in this not quite right rendition of an average suburb, Somewhere U.S.A. She was supposed to find… generators, she thinks? But she couldn’t even find another person as of yet. There were supposed to be three others, right? And someone that’s supposed to hurt you all? It put Hex on edge more than a little… In fact, she was nearly vibrating out of her skin. She’s quite literally a rainbow target… The others that you briefly met were- more or less- dressed in dark colours they could use as a sort of impromptu camouflage while she was here in her neon pink and blue hair and her yellow, midriff jacket and lime green striped socks… 

A stray piece of drywall skid across the floor as her foot made contact with it. It was so loud that it echoed in the mostly empty school building. Hex cringed and hissed between her teeth. That, too, bounced off the peeling walls and made her screw her eyes shut. Is she always this loud? She never really thought about it until now. Hex can be clumsy at times but now that it’s quite literally a life and death scenario, it’s really evident and something that’s got her feeling more self conscious and aware than she’s ever been in her entire life. 

O-kay… Let's try downstairs… 

If someone- or something- is here, it should have heard her by now, right? Even as Hex carefully made sure to not drag her feet across the floor, every step she took was accompanied with a near deafening crunch and the sliding of bits of dirt and debris against the sole of her boots. Something made her stop mid cringe- something large and shiny and sort of box-like in shape-

A generator! 

The apprehension and fear that Hex felt suddenly shifted into giddy excitement. As dizzying as the change was, it didn’t stop her from sprinting- and sliding rather loudly- over to the hunk of silent metal. She looked it over, standing on her tiptoes and hunkering down low to look at some of the various knobs and wires that were sticking out of the machine. 

Uhh… What exactly is she supposed to do with this? 

All that was said to her was ‘fix the generators’. No one ever really told her how to do this. Hex reached out, then pulled away, then reached out one again. Um… Why are there so many things here…? She twisted a knob and jumped as the generator began to hum and chug very softly. 

Oh-! Is she doing it?! 

She twisted another knob and everything was okay. Then she knelt down and began to examine the wires. Yeah, she’s clueless… But Hex still decided ‘screw it’! She pressed some of the bare wire tips together, bracing to be electrocuted or blown up or something… but nothing happened! The generator sounds like it’s picking up speed so she’s obviously doing something right! Feeling confident, Hex reached up to twist another knob but stopped as something out of the corner of her eye caught her attention. 

It was something small. Maybe… she only thinks she saw something. Right around the corner from where she crouched in front of the machinery. It was only for a second… but Hex was sure that she saw someone. But someone very, very small… A child? There wouldn’t be a child here, right?! The thought alone was enough to get her to let go of the generator. Which promptly exploded in her face with a loud POP! 

Hex recoiled and shielded her face from the bright sparks. Oh shh… ! She really, really hopes no one heard that! Talk about embarrassing! Still… that little dude that she saw was what she was truly worried about. This is a big, scary place with too many hazards for a little kid! She got up and started to fast walk to where she thought she saw the child peek out from. Rounding the corner, Hex saw…

Nothing. 

I need to at least check the school… 

There’s no way in hell she could think of anything else other than that little guy that she saw… Hex cleared the basement twice, finding no trace of anyone else other than herself down there. Maybe upstairs? She checked the section that she entered from and found nothing. The room across? Nothing… The little reception area? Nothing… There’s only a few rooms left, so Hex doesn’t have a lot of options left. Will she look everywhere for this kid…? Probably. She can’t help it! The poor thing must be cold and hungry and scared… Like how she is now! Probably a lot more than she is, actually! So she looks in the final three rooms.

Nothing.

Nothing…

Ah- 

Yes! There is someone in there! In a corner, Hex sees a very small lump in the corner, seemingly shivering and hunkered over. It looked like a child- Yes! A very, very small and young child- practically a toddler!- that wore not a scrap of clothing on their person. Poor little baby! Hex didn’t hesitate to take her own jacket off as she rushed over to the trembling child.

“Aww-! Shh… Shh… It’s okay, little guy… Or girl- It’s going to be okay! I won’t let a thing happen to you…” She fell to her knees and prepared to drape her jacket over the child… and sort of paused as she saw how different they looked. 

Poor thing… Were they abandoned? They were dirty- is that blood?- and clearly had some deformities. Sharp little teeth poked out of their cleft lips and talon like claws were curled up on their fingers as they held their arms to their chest. Rather than making Hex feel fear, she felt even more determined to help the child. She could tell by looking at them that they didn’t have it easy… As she gently cooed at them and prepared to cover them with her jacket- 

They shivered and turned to look at her. Hex gave a gentle smile. As she was about to reassure them that she was there to help-

-they pounced on her face. 

Hex didn’t realize what even happened at first. The ear-piercing screech the little guy released when they leapt at her face completely disoriented her, and that’s not including the weight of a whole toddler clinging to her face, completely blinding her and slightly suffocating her while their little claws dug into the back of her head and threatened to rip her hair out by the little handful. Hex fell backwards and released a cry of her own, completely muffled and drowned out by the kid’s own battle-like cry to war. She didn’t notice when another person entered the classroom she was currently flopping around and writhing in. 

One moment, Hex’s face was being bitten and kicked by a kid who had a surprising amount of strength, the next, there was a brief tug and she was free. The kid wasn’t removed, but rather, someone had kicked them off of her face. Hex was taken aback, completely shocked and horrified, nearly forgetting how the very child that collided with a nearby wall had suctioned cupped themself to her face and had tried (and nearly succeeded in) to take several chunks out of her poor, abused cheeks. Someone grabbed her underarms and helped her back to her feet.

“Are you okay?! Victor is such a little shit…” The young woman muttered under her breath as she helped steady a shell-shocked Hex, who could only blink and stammer unintelligibly. 

“T-The- T-The k-kid…?” The woman scoffed and shook her head. Her short hair was mostly covered with a beanie that held it in place.

“Nah… Victor ain’t a kid, if you catch my drift. He and that sister of his are the killers of this trial. You’re lucky I was able to find you before she did.” After a moment of pause, the woman quickly added-

“Actually, we should probably move. Just in case she checks in here-” She pulled Hex along, who still was totally dumbfounded. 

“W-Where did they go? Th-The kid…?” The woman waved off her question. 

“Hey- Look, I’ll answer any question you got after we leave here alive. How’s that sound?” Hex nodded, still processing what the hell just happened to her. The woman turned to face Hex with a smile. 

“I’m Nea, by the way.”

Nea, along with several other survivors that made sure she didn’t woefully misinform poor baby Hex, explained to her the new world she had found herself in. And… it definitely wasn’t great. The possibility of actually dying was terrifying, along with the various ways in which she could die in any given trial. The small child that she found, ‘Victor’... He was twins with a woman named Charlotte, who definitely would kill both Hex and Nea if she caught up with them. Especially after what Nea did to her brother… But for some reason, Hex couldn’t exactly blame either of them…

What if they were- or still are- as scared and confused as she is? And even if they weren’t… Hex still feels really, really bad for what happened to Victor! Sure, he latched himself onto her face and tried to rip it off, but Hex wasn’t mad about it! Maybe she came on too strong… Maybe she confused him! She is brightly coloured, after all… Nea punting him into the wall left a bad taste in Hex’s mouth… Wasn’t it a bit… excessive? It must have been terrifying and painful for Victor! And poor Charlotte, too! Oh… Hex can’t allow this to stand! She’s gotta make this right! …somehow. It’s not going to be easy, but she’s already made up her mind! It’s only a matter of time now until she figures out how to show the Twins that she means them no harm and that she doesn’t want to hurt either of them!

God, it was going to be a monumental undertaking, the likes of which Hex has never seen or experienced before in her entire life! She knew that she had her work cut out for herself, but the amount of times that she was mained, mauled, cut, stabbed in the shoulder and sacrificed to the Entity was unprecedented. Even other survivors were at a loss to the sheer number of times that Hex died and suffered injury in trial, even as a newbie survivor. Still… no one could deny that Hex was as stubborn as a mule and twice as durable… 

Upon the next trial, Hex was told that it was highly unlikely that the Twins would be the next killer. They seemed to be two that were rarely seen in trials at all, let alone twice in succession. Yet in this trial, it was the Twins once more! Hex was excited while everyone else groaned in dread. She has a chance to make things right! It didn’t take long for her to find little Victor, scampering around while quietly muttering and growling to himself with his cute little arms close to his chest. Is he cold? Hex began to speak in a soft voice as she crouched down to his level.

“Hey little guy… I think we had a little… misunderstanding the last time we met.” She cooed. Victor suddenly turned to face her, his beady little eyes shining in the light as he narrowed them at her. Hex couldn’t help but to sweat, but she kept herself outwardly calm as she reached out to the little guy. 

“Maybe we could-” Before Hex could finish what she was saying, Victor crouched down low. The words died in her throat as she tilted her head to the side, confused as to what he was even doing. When he suddenly went soaring through the air with a screech, she then knew that things had, once again, taken a wrong turn. 

Victor was pried off by another survivor, in spite of Hex screaming over both Victor’s ear splitting war cries and her own cries of pain that “DON’T- I GOT HIM, I GOT HIM-!” No, she did not have him. Victor left deep scratches along Hex’s jawline, one that would vanish upon the trial’s completion but she would still feel the phantom pains of them long after they were gone. The others were sure this would deter her from going out of her way to make friends- most of them had fallen into the ‘there’s gotta be some humanity left in them’ line of thinking at least once, so they couldn’t really blame Hex… But if anything, this only made her more determined to make peace with the Twins. 

Hex, again, tried to reach out to Victor. Not only did he pounce on her, but Charlotte found her before another survivor did. Only… she didn’t attack Hex. She merely watched for a few brief moments (that felt like an eternity to Hex as she was being mauled) before she called Victor back over to her and left a disoriented and winded Hex on the ground where she lay. This was something different! Charlotte didn’t attack her like everyone said she would! It’s gotta mean something, right?!

The next time, Hex found Charlotte first. The other woman wasn’t aware of her presence, not yet, anyway, and she still had Victor on her person. Literally. Hex wondered if it was painful when he would hop out of that hole in her torso… It had to, right? It looked painful, or at the very least upsetting to her, as she always placed a hand over where he once was and would look down as though lamenting his absence. It made Hex… sad. She frowned as she watched Charlotte stand around, seemingly lost without her twin brother’s hand in her own. Hex wanted to step out and speak to Charlotte… She wanted her to know that it would be okay- that Victor was a ridiculously strong little dude that has no trouble taking care of himself… But before she could even take a breath to speak out-

Victor tackled her from behind and latched onto her head.

This wasn’t working! Hex was beyond frustrated, yet this only made her more stubborn and determined to get her point across! If actions weren’t getting across and words were failing her, then Hex has no choice but to use her final, backup, super secret and failsafe plan to show the Twins exactly what her intentions were: She would give them gifts! 

Flowers were the most obvious first choice. There were everywhere and many of the survivor’s offerings were flowers! Before she could get close enough to Charlotte to give them to her, however, Victor once again came to his sister’s defense and pounced on Hex before she could get too close to her. Okay… fine. What about Victor, himself?

It seemed to annoy him… or maybe he didn’t get the purpose of Hex waving flowers in between the two of them. Like a matador swinging red cloth in a bull’s face, Victor charged at her and proceeded to take a chunk out of her browline while screaming bloody murder. Or was it Hex that was screaming? It was a bust, so she abandoned the ‘flowers for peace’ endeavor she was on. 

Chalk? Maybe they would like to draw with it! Victor bit her fingers when she presented it to him and Charlotte seemed to be like a deer in the headlights- unmoving, unwavering, not even acknowledging that Hex was presenting her a gift in her hands. Or was she just too shy to take it? Hex could have sworn that Charlotte had looked at the little bag in her hand for a split second before looking away, only to do a double take once Hex didn’t immediately run upon seeing her. They were so close to having a connection! Hex just knows it! But Charlotte ended up walking away, calling over a crouched and ready-to-pounce Victor who seemed to be lining up his sight to tackle Hex once more. But he didn’t! They might have left without taking her gift, but this is progress if she’s ever seen it! Hex has begun to get through to Charlotte… now she only needs to get little Victor to understand that she was friend and not foe… or food… 

Hex asked for help, knowing full well that the other survivors wouldn’t really do much to help her. They made their stance very clear when it comes to the killers: ‘they worry about themselves and we worry about each other’. Still, when asked, advice was given and it was something that surprised her greatly. Sometimes, the Entity will gift survivors with things they desire. Some said they just thought of the items and would later find them in their pockets or in other places around the survivor’s camp. Others said they actually prayed to God for it and they received it. Whatever the case… Hex is desperate enough to try anything once….

So she prayed. And to her surprise…

The Entity answered. 

It wasn’t something grand, but Hex had a feeling that what She answered would be something of interest to Victor and even perhaps to Charlotte as well. A little wooden figure of a princess, not exactly pretty or well carved, but strong and sturdy without being heavy or cumbersome. The paint was well worn and chipped but it was of little consequence, Hex thought. Something about the figure was familiar… but Hex still had a feeling that it wasn’t familiar to her. If that made any sense… It was a strange feeling, but one that she shook off as she became excited for the upcoming trial where she could give this to Charlotte and Victor. 

For the first time in a while, Hex happened upon the Twins when they were still conjoined. Charlotte was already on edge and Victor was practically frothing at the mouth as he anticipated attacking Hex with his little teeth and sharp claws. Before Charlotte could set Victor down, Hex cried out-

“W-Wait!” 

Charlotte instinctually held Victor close and took a step back while her brother squealed and screeched as he flailed in her grasp. Hex felt bad for making Charlotte and Victor so uncomfortable… All this time, they didn’t know that she was trying to make friends instead of hurting them in any way. She would have liked to make a special, grand gesture out giving them this gift, but Hex didn’t think it wise. So she carefully presented her closed hand, the head and legs of the princess figure sticking out of her closed fists. 

Instantly, Victor was interested in what she had. Charlotte, though, was clearly on edge and untrusting of Hex and her intentions. She whispered quietly to Victor, who seemed to disregard what his sister said in favour of reaching out one of his small hands in Hex’s direction as he squealed in delight. She raised her other hand in a ‘I don’t want to hurt you’ sort of way.

“H-Hey-! It’s okay… I-I just want to give you both this…” Hex opened her hand to reveal the wood carving, which not only made Victor more excited, but it seemed to get Charlotte’s attention as well. 

Hex didn’t know it, but Charlotte never really had any toys… She had a precious few that her mother made by hand, but Victor would always get jealous and mean when she would play with them. She didn’t really mind though. Victor was just… Victor. He was needy and loud and toys helped pacify him with nothing else would work. That little toy soldier of his, the one that their mother stole for him, became his absolute favorite. It’s one of the only things that remains of their past life. Of their mother… Charlotte was always a bit envious that Victor had this one little thing. She didn’t have anything like that… but Victor would share when she would get particularly sad. The little soldier was nice… but Charlotte wanted something else. She always wanted a cute little dolly of her own, and while what Hex had wasn’t exactly that….

It still was what Charlotte always wanted. 

Charlotte shifted from foot to foot as she focused on the wooden princess. Victor incessantly tugged on his sister’s cheek as he pointed at Hex, crying out in frustration as his sister only stared at the figure longingly. Maybe she didn’t understand that she was giving it to them? Again, she presents the doll, this time smiling as she holds it out towards Charlotte and Victor. 

Hex can tell that Charlotte so badly wants to reach out and take the figurine from her, but she’s still hesitating, uncertain and possibly a little frightened of the gesture Hex presented to her. So Hex decides to gently set the doll down on the ground and she takes a few steps back from it and the Twins. Hex pretty much expected that they wouldn’t go for the gift until she left… but to her surprise, Charlotte stepped forward and leaned down to scoop up the little toy in her dirt covered hand. 

The look of wonderment on her face made all the failed attempts so, so worth it. Victor’s little fingers wrapped around his sister’s larger ones as she inspected the figure. It was too small for her… nearly too big for Victor, yet they both loved the little gift. Charlotte couldn’t believe that Hex was just… giving them the toy, but the strange woman didn’t even attempt to take it back from them, only smiling warmly as Victor moved the doll's arms and legs around while giggling to himself.

Both of the Twins were transfixed by the little toy she gave them. It didn’t immediately fix the tension between her and them, but now, whenever they saw her in a trial, they didn’t shy away from her or try to attack her! Victor approached Hex in a more friendly manner, not jumping on her face but rather attaching to her leg as she walked around the realm as she looked for his sister. Charlotte was still a little aloof around her, but she allowed Hex to approach her as she allowed Charlotte to take her brother off of her leg- or she tried to. Victor would hold on and dig his nails into Hex like he was a koala and her leg was a tree trunk! 

But this was a good start, Hex thought. Charlotte would listen to her talk, Victor would babble enthusiastically in agreement or disagreement… The Twins even started to accept the other gifts that Hex failed to give them before! Charlotte still wouldn’t allow Victor to get too close to Hex… but she would allow her brother to hang around the other woman and play with her while observing them both closely. Charlotte has even begun to play with them both, too! It made Hex happy… She hoped that the three of them would get even closer as they got to know one another better…

@prettycutebunny, @infinitewhore, @kennbb, @slutwithadegree, @dead-bxxxtch-walking, @space-arsonist, @pink-soft-shadow, @sinlessdesire, @hoemine

[zeequicks]

kennel for strays

decided the zee & kon besties verse needed more love. so here is another one! inspired by zee's intro scene in young justice where she dips mid conversation to stroke the giant fluffy canine. (1.2k words, G-rated) | read on ao3

Summary:

Zatanna gets distracted by animals, Conner quickly notes, in all situations and scenarios. (Or, the one in which Conner and Zatanna are unlikely besties and bond over animals.)

Over the years, Conner realises that Zatanna has a habit of. . . pulling a disappearing act. (And no, that was not a Dick Grayson pun, thank you very much.)

The first time Zatanna is introduced to the team, she disappears mid-conversation when the adults start talking. Everyone whips their head around the room, only to find Zatanna curled up against Wolf on the floor. She strokes his fluffy coat, scratching underneath his neck and belly, as his tail swishes around.

Conner doesn’t think anything of it, at first.

-

Zatanna gets distracted by animals, Conner quickly notes, in all situations and scenarios.

Conner is fighting off monkeys, standing in the way between them and the secret base they’re meant to be finding in the Sumatran rainforest, when Zatanna throws herself in between them and says, “No! Don’t hurt them!”

Artemis was also wrestling with one, voice jumping an octave to argue against Zatanna’s protest, “Zee, these things bite!”

“Just—” Zatanna pushes her gloved hands out, says some sort of spell, which puts all of the two dozen monkeys around them to sleep. Conner shakes off the one on his hand, as it drops to the ground.

Zatanna disappears off into the forest before anyone else can even notice, and Conner actually has to use his super-hearing to track her down.

She finds one baby monkey left on the ground, fully knocked out. Her spell must have affected a larger area than she intended. It’s clearly separated from its mother. Zatanna picks it up and scans the trees for signs of her.

“Seniv dliub a esacriats,” she says, and Conner catches that one—because she’s used it before.

“We don’t have time for this,” Wally zips over and complains. “The rest of the team are getting a move on!”

Zatanna won’t have it. “We’ll catch up,” she says, still scaling those vines with the sleepy mammal safely pressed into her chest.

“Are you sure?” Wally says, punctuating each word like a last-ditch attempt to not have to explain this to the rest of the team.

“Yes, it’s fine. Conner is fast. He’ll get us there. Won’t you, Conner?” she says, head fully in the trees now. Conner can’t see her face, but he sure as hell can see the smile on it. “Or, I could portal us there.”

Wally groans in resignation. “Fine, just stay on the comms!” He then zips away, leaving the two of them in total silence.

When Zatanna manages to reunite the pair, Conner helps her down the tree. She looks at Conner, curious and impressed at his choice to stay, but mostly grateful, above everything else.

“I—” she hesitates, uncharacteristically. “I hope that wasn’t too much trouble for the mission.”

He shakes his head. “No problem. Just a short detour. I still don’t like magical portals, so I—uh, I could carry you. If that’s OK with you. You’re not running through the woods in those things,” he points at her shoes.

She does not mind at all.

-

Conner walks into the kitchen one day and nearly immediately walks back out.

Wally is fighting a bright green parrot over a baguette and losing spectacularly. Has Conner mentioned that there is a parrot in the kitchen?

“I swear if this is one of Dick’s runaway circus animals—ow, let go of my hand!”

Zatanna walks in and rushes over to intervene, “Elfie, stop! Let go of Wally.” She offers the bird an arm to perch on.  

It—the bird, the bird named Elfie—rapidly loses interest in the battle over the baguette and flaps its wings as Zatanna reaches into her coat pocket for a handful of nuts.

Zatanna can sense when Conner has a question, even before he asks.

“I might have taken in a stray when we were on our last mission,” she admits, with only the tiniest bit of reticence. “I ran it past Black Canary. She says she knows how to take care of birds, and she says she’ll try to get Green Arrow to buy a better enclosure for Elfie.”

Conner can understand Zatanna’s motivations. He took in Wolf under similar circumstances, after all. “I don’t have a problem with birds. We should get Elfie introduced to Wolf, to avoid any territorial disputes.”

Her eyes light up at the encouragement. “Elfie is short for Elphaba, you know, from Wicked?”

Neither of the boys understand this reference.

-

Conner and Zatanna become very good friends. He gets along well with her, more than most people would expect them to, but despite that, they still don’t talk much about their personal lives. Conner likes that about their friendship, likes the fact that he can trust her to have his back without having to pry into his mind, or his emotions, which he doesn’t always have a grip on—and he thinks she likes that about him, too.

But when Zatanna’s dad dies, she shuts them all out. She pulls another disappearing act. He knows not to take it personally. He understands. He always does.

Still, the walls in Mount Justice are thin for a Kryptonian with super-hearing.

Conner decides that he can’t take another day of listening to his friend crying all by herself in her room, because she didn’t just lose her dad, she lost her home, her entire life.

So, Conner knocks one evening, with Wolf by his side and a pack of his favourite treats.

“It’s me, Zatanna.”

Silence.

“Can I come in?” he tries again, and for good measure, adds, “Wolf wants to see you. He misses his favourite walking buddy.”

She sniffles and blows into a tissue, muttering a spell Conner can’t quite make out. He hears boxes moving across the room and realises that she must be tidying the room. Conner chuckles, and the door flies open.

“Do you say that to all the girls?” Zatanna says, and there’s a tired rasp to her voice, but Conner is only glad that she’s making jokes again.

Inside, they still don’t talk about what she’s been through much. Conner isn’t the best at offering advice, or knowing what the right words are to say, but Zatanna doesn’t seem to care.

She feeds Wolf the treats Conner has been saving for her, and surprises even Conner when she commands Wolf to perform a new trick. He rolls onto his back and plays dead, only getting up when she says the words, “Where’s my standing ovation?”

Wolf gets up and drums his paws on the floor, before leaping up into her arms and licking her face in a giant, sloppy show of affection. She laughs, like this is just another night, and Conner forgets for a moment why he hasn’t heard her laugh in so long.

“Thank you, Conner,” she says, with both her arms wrapped around the canine and her head buried in his fur. Conner’s reminded of the first time they met, now.

“For what?”

“For bringing the best distraction from heartbreak a girl could ask for,” she plants another kiss onto Wolf’s neck, then then glances up at Conner, “and for being you, of course.”

Conner doesn’t know why, or how, but Zatanna has a way of making people feel like they’re exactly who they should be.

“I’ll always be me,” Conner says, and it sounds like an affirmation to himself.

She beams, emitting that signature Zatanna smile that puts Conner at ease when he goes back to bed that evening, trusting that Wolf will keep her company for the rest of the night.  

[fangedfaefreak]

The person I am talking about knows who he is, any followers are free to read but do know that this is not for you.

I have no idea why this scenario has suddenly become something I am immensely fixated on right this moment, but I feel like this is something I want to share with you, so…enjoy, sweet thing😘 @bow-for-me

You work from home, and I only work a few days a week. One day I have off and you get to work at the computer as usual. I bring you a cup of coffee in the mid afternoon for a pick-me-up and notice your annoyance. I can tell it’s not geared toward me, though, as you thank me for the coffee with a small smile and gesture for me to sit nearby. You mention a frustrating meeting that you had earlier that day. I let you vent and you mention you have a follow up meeting to address THAT meeting in just a few minutes. You notice a devious glint in my eye and raise a brow. “What is my little fae boy hiding from me?” You ask. You’ve learned to be wary of that look in my eye. I make my way toward you and get on my knees, trying not to ruin any sort of sexy moment I’m trying to build up with laughter, but sort of failing. I am definitely more giddy than I should be. I make a comment that I can help with any frustration you have, lightly running my hand along your inner thigh. You seem a little bit surprised, but not terribly so, checking your watch to see what time it was. “My meeting is in just a couple of minutes,” you mutter, not wanting to be late but also knowing we could not fit a quickie in a few minutes. I only smirk. “What, they won’t see me under the table.” I say. “It will be a fantastic exercise to help you practice your poker face.”

Now that you know MY intentions more fully, you are certainly not going to stop me, giving me room to crawl under the desk with a bit of a laugh. “You know, you will have to be quiet too, Vivi.” You remind me, letting me undo your belt and pants as you start pulling up the video meeting application. The meeting starts and I am already getting handsy, my lips and tongue wrapping around your thick cock and going up and down, slowly at first to gauge your ability to not react and to make sure I can be quiet enough to not alert the other meeting goers. Everyone gets into the meeting room, and greetings start getting tossed around. As you speak, you put a hand on the back of my head and shove it down, making me choke. However—you cleverly disguised the sound by your greeting them and asking how their days were, also giving me a moment to catch my breath. Your eyes flick down to meet mine, a thumb running along my bottom lip—which is dripping with saliva—and putting it into my mouth. You raise a brow at me, tilting your head in a silent command to suck. Which I do happily, of course.

You continue the meeting as usual, and my mouth once again wraps around your dick, the tip hitting the back of my throat rhythmically. I’m starting to speed up a little as I get used to having to go at this quietly—this is not normal for me! Normally I would be sloppy and loud and worshipping your cock like you are my god, and that is my only saving grace. I feel your hand grip at my hair, making sure the stray pieces are out of my face and also guiding me at the tempo you are wanting. I follow your every command like an obedient little whore.

Only for you. Only for you.

As the meeting drags on, you continue making comments on what they are saying and every time you speak you take this opportunity to either shove my face down to deep throat you, or to pull me off to give not only me a breather, but also help you control how quickly and intensely your orgasm comes, so that you will be able to hide it well enough from your bosses. Or perhaps, I start to wonder, you are prolonging it so that the meeting ends before you do.

😈😈😈😈😈

Challenge accepted.

Instead of giving you rest or reprieve when you pull me off of you, I start to go at you with my hand as well. I grip you tightly, going slowly but also hard enough to ride that line between painful and extremely pleasurable—which is I know what you like. You shoot a glare at me and when you see the smirk on my face, you know what my intentions are. I mouth a few words to you along the lines of being a pussy. Teasing, of course. You roll your eyes at me and get me to stop snickering by shoving your dick in my mouth again. This time, forcing me down to deep throat you multiple times, not doing anything to staunch the choking noises coming from me, or the strangled gasps I give when I pull off of you. I look up at you, wondering if you have perhaps gone crazy, but you are just watching the computer intently, not even looking at me, though I can see your faint satisfied smirk. You shove two fingers into my mouth this time, prying it open and not seeming to care that it was forcing me to drool on your work pants. You look me right in the eyes. “Good boy.” You say, in a completely nonchalant and normal tone, not even bothering to hide it. Your boss hears you. “What was that?” They ask. You look up. “Oh, sorry. I was talking to my pet. I thought my mic was muted. Continue.”

The meeting goes on and by now I realize we are playing a game and you are very intent on winning. You are not bothered by them probably knowing what was going on because of the plausible deniability, and your poker face was better than anyone’s I knew. You sweet, sexy bastard.

We continued this dangerous back and forth game, you growing closer and closer to a finish as the meeting was drawing to an end. Every so often I could hear your voice strain only slightly, which was music to my ears. I was desperate to finish the deed before the end of the meeting, to which I took your dick all the way down my throat, letting my throat squeeze down on you and feeling tears start to involuntarily fall down my cheeks as I desperately tried not to gag. Your grip on my hair became so tight I nearly thought you were going to rip it out. Before I could pull away to finish you off, you thrust your hips up into my mouth not once, but twice before you finally came with a small, but strangled grunt through gritted teeth.

A win for me, in my book!

I pulled off of you, trying to swallow not only the cum in my mouth but also the copious amounts of spit that was in and around my mouth from all of the activity. I was panting much louder than I meant to, and I heard your coworker ask if your dog was okay, which made me blush bright red, my pointed ears twitching awkwardly as I wiped the spit off my lips with the back of my hand. You merely laughed. “He’s quite alright.” You assure them, looking down at me between your legs, panting quietly. “Isn’t that right? What a good boy you are.” I try not to be too obvious in how good that makes me feel but I imagine you are able to read my expression like a book.

You look up at your screen and furrow your brow. “Hm. I think my camera must have frozen. Can you guys see me?” They all murmur that things look fine, but you insist. “I’m going to leave and rejoin the call with audio, because I think my video feed is glitching. Hold on.” You click your mouse and I assume this means you are planning on putting yourself away and letting me out from under the desk with this short time away from the call. You push your chair away to let me get out, and as I go toward the kitchen to wash up, you grab my wrist. “Did I say I was done with you, fae boy?” My eyes widen and I feel my cheeks flush at the Look in your eyes, and I feel my knees grow a bit weak as I return to you. You pat your leg, having put yourself away so that I have plenty of room on your lap. I sit down and you wrap an arm around my waist, pulling me back closer to your chest and using your legs to guide my legs open. You open the video meeting again, only on audio this time, though now I am very close to your mic and I have a feeling I know exactly what you are going to do to me. “Sorry everyone, had some hardware issues. My video still doesn’t seem to want to come up here, I hope audio only is okay.”

I know logically this was to keep you from getting in trouble with your superiors, but I also wondered if it was to help me feel more comfortable, due to my issues with cameras in the past. I feel a bit of warmth at that. Your coworkers all chime that it’s fine and that you didn’t miss much at all, really, and they continue the meeting as planned.

First, you run your dominant hand along one of my spread thighs, and I am almost regretting that I was wearing just some sweats. If it was tight jeans or something more restrictive perhaps you wouldn’t bother, but you had plenty of room to work. Which, I want to make it clear here that I am wanting this, I am just hella fucking nervous because I have met your coworkers. They know me. You show me off to them like I am a little treasure, and for all they know I am a sweet and innocent little house husband, but that couldn’t be further from the truth and they were probably about to find that out right now.

As your hand dips down my pants, I feel your lips against my ear, very quietly asking first if this was okay, which only made me even hornier. Consent 👌🏻 Hell yeah babey.

I nod, looking over my shoulder at you and seeing the dark and sexy look in your eye. If choking on your dick hadn’t gotten me wet as fuck, then that certainly would have done the trick.

Your fingers run along me slowly, teasingly, and I have to suppress a whine, which manifests in a violent shiver against your chest. You let out a short breath of satisfaction, not wanting to laugh at how I was already unraveling with barely a touch and get your bosses questioning things so early. You continue this agonizing torture for a solid couple minutes, keeping me from moving my hips with your other hand.

“Good boys stay still.” You whisper into my ear, grazing your sharp canine against the pointed tip of it, which made me shiver even more and give the slightest whine sound.

When your fingers finally pressed inside of me, I bit down hard on my lip to keep from moaning, my chest nearly heaving from the attempts to stay quiet while getting edged so torturously. You continued to slowly finger me, making comments and talking about the meeting as if it were just another Tuesday and you weren’t finger fucking your partner on your lap as you spoke. I feel myself growing nearer to a climax, and you can tell too, putting a hand over my mouth to keep me silent, your lips at my exposed neck, no doubt relishing in the feeling of my pulse against your mouth and against your fingers.

As I finished, I had to grip at the edge of your table to keep myself stable and not fall the fuck off of your lap, breathing heavily through my nose, the high of the orgasm and lack of air making me grow deliciously dizzy, falling back against your chest with my full weight as you slowly withdrew your fingers from my dripping cunt and moved your other hand away from my mouth. Before you even had to ask, my mouth was open to receive your fingers, and you pushed them into my mouth to let me clean up the mess I made on your hand. When you pull your fingers out of my mouth, you see blood, from when I had bitten down on my lip, which I honestly hadn’t even noticed due to other events going on.

Without even a pause, you lick your own fingers clean of the blood from my mouth, giving me a loving kiss on the cheek, which I know was a silent “Good boy.” I remained on your lap for the rest of the meeting, enjoying the feel of your arms around me as the ecstasy of the acts we’d just done began to die down.

I decided then that I would need to get your meeting schedule for the next week…😏

[krewekreep]

Introduction of Sorts + Interests

This page will really be for me to get back into writing, develop my writing and indulge myself. I’m open to requests though but ask people to definitely contextualize your Bias (person you’re requesting for—yes I’m gonna use K-pop lingo oh well) and/or the scenario cause otherwise I’d simply write for myself. Which is why I also am making this page because I’ve been on tumblr for 10 years (my main account turned ten this year) and I’m worn out of the smut fest no prose or story fics. Definitely has its place in the community but the older I get the more I need actual full blown delusion. I need scene, setting, set up, climax, denouement…and so I’ll fulfill the order myself. 🫡

My interests:

(Im a 2010s coded Tumblr user so uh, I mean I suppose Dr Who and Supernatural aren’t 😂😂😂😂lmao ew anyway (I was into supernatural I’m ewwing at you and myself) .

Too I usually am not following everything that’s mainstream (I know im so cool) so also if something isn’t listed I most likely know of it—but went no further. I also like older anime and media so if you have something super specific that feels out of place no worries. Im gonna end up writing Greek smut about Dionysus so…🤷🏾‍♀️

Anime: (I’ve seen actually too much anime to name so here’s the ones I have a bias or have an affinity for the characters)

JJK,

Chainsaw Man

Bleach

Naruto

Demon Slayer

Attack on Titan

Fate Series

Etc

Manga:

JJK

Chainsaw Man

Bleach

Attack on Titan

Spy x Family

DanDanDan

Berserk

Etc

Fave genres are horror/seinen, shoujo, and slice of life.

KPOP: (1st-mid 3rd Gen main but still aware of 4th gen pretty deeply)

I dont really want to do requests for idols but I don’t mind overall, explained further below

My fave boy groups (somewhat in order): Big Bang, Shinee, BAP, BTS (ex-army, long story**, don’t come to my page with that bullshit 💕) B1A4, IKON, EXO, 2PM, GOT7…I could go on. (I’m not gonna list them in an order but my heart can’t not include MBLAQ, Teen Top, U-Kiss, etc ugh those were the days😭)

Girl Groups (in definitive order): 2NE1, Brown Eyed Girls, F(x), Girls Generation, TWICE, 4Minute/Hyuna, Wonder Girls, Secret, After School, Global Icon (short lived), Tiny G ( VERY short lived), EXID, Ladies Code, etc.

Now 4th Gen…is cute…they got CUTE people that’s for sure. This list will be co-ed simply because I’m not feral for boy groups like I was younger. Really the boy groups don’t do it for me (4th gen overall criticism tbh) cause it’s really looks and kinda arrogant personalities I find obnoxious given y’all can’t even publicly date or be seen smoking…tone down the elitist vibe lol. But shade aside I do jam some things and have a playlist for my fave 4th gen songs so for sure no hate just a BOMBASTIC side eye sometimes. Anyway…

Stray Kids

Aespa

Lessaraffim (I’m gonna leave it like my mind spells it, enjoy)

NCT 127 (specifically them ((in reference to the units)) cause I enjoy R&B coded K-pop, they do too much Niggaboo shit (looking at Mark and Taeyong DIRECTLY in the eyes 👁️👄👁️)((BUT it’s a Soo Man thing cause him, YG, and JYP competing over who wish they were a born a Black man the most…Soo Man and JYP ✨fist fighting✨over the top spot IYKYK)

New jeans (they’re minors and if they all aren’t their def much younger than me so no requests for minors please this is for taste assessment only)

BIBI and other female soloists (Hyuna, Sunmi, Ga-in, Lee Hyori, etc)

IVE (they really got some bops tbh, this is another TWICE case of let these young women talk and sing how they naturally would…music and live performances will thank them for it)

Nobody really else I guess honorable mentions are Ateez, Fifty-fifty,

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*im gonna add that for Anime/Manga the double dipping means some combination of me knowing the material in both forms of media. Like Jujutsu Kaizen is an amazing example currently as of course the anime is ongoing but the manga is far ahead by a large portion of plot. So if your anime only, manga only, or something be sure to let me know so I’m not spoiling by accident. Don’t want the smut to spoil a character death or something….right? 😅

**the long story short and overall caveat of why I’ve fallen out of love for groups and K-pop are the fact that yeah as a Black person I genuinely started getting pissed off with colorism, n-word usage, appropriation, and mockery. The shit gets old and as a poor old super fan I’m happy I didn’t spend the money people do for folks who would literally refuse my hand…🫤 be fr. Likewise, the deaths of idols who were literally my biases really (of course) bothered me and took a toll on my enjoyment of the genre too. The more you love it the more you learn and that’s usually where the fun ends and now it’s numbers charts and placements. Lame 😭. I let the time I was fan be that but otherwise ? Eh I’m good I’ll bop from time to time and catch the tea but my bread in my pocket (besides my B1A4 What’s Happening and Twice Scientist albums😂)((and the other old albums I’ll get before they disappear forever or get destroyed🫠))

But yeah that’s that on that. I’ll be posting whatever ends up decent enough to be read by others. Otherwise wherever this ends up hope you drop a message🥸!