#that shes seeing someone and drama ensues

[autistickhunsam]

it gave me an idea for an angsty storyline. not to read or write just...to appreciate

[redskull199987]

Plzz write fnaf Michael x femreader! It starts like a fluff and then smut👀

Lucky

Mike Schmidt x fem!reader Request Word Count:2.4k Warnings:Angst to Fluff to Smut, this got way angstier than i thought SOWWWY- but I promise, fluff ensues, Smut ensues, so MDNI/18+, Movie Spoilers Summary:After you finally return from work, a few surprises await you at home…

Masterlist

Your day had been slow. Agonizingly slow. Time seemed to go by extra slow today and by the time you finally left your office, it had felt like you had spent a week there, instead of a day. But as you slowly made your way towards your car, your mood lightened, as you remembered what would await you at home.

Your loving Boyfriend and his even sweeter little sister. 

The little family you had built over the years always managed to put a smile on your face and especially after the whole drama at that Pizza Plex, you were even more grateful for what you had.

You slightly shook your head, trying to avoid thinking of those memories. The things you had seen, while Mike and You tried to save his sister from the dead children. You hoped that they got what they wanted…and that the Monster who created them had gotten what he deserved.

Your mind was about to wander back to the memory of the springlocks violently stabbing into his chest, as a knock on your car window quite literally pulled you out of your thoughts.

A quiet gasp left your lips, as you looked outside to see who had knocked. Much to your relief, it was only your coworker, who wanted to wish you a good night. You quickly uttered your goodbyes, before finally starting the car and making your way back home.

By the time you arrived, the sun had long since disappeared behind the horizon. You quickly parked your car next to Mike´s before moving towards the entrance. 

You didn't bother turning on the lights in the hallway, as you dropped your bag to the floor and kicked off your shoes.

Before you could call out for Mike and Abby, you heard someone running towards you and as you realized what was happening, you quickly duck away, stumbling backwards.

Just in time to avoid being hit by the bat that was swung into your direction.

“Mike!! It's me!! It's just me!!”, You quickly yelled and reached for the lightswitch.

As the hallway was suddenly illuminated by the dim gleam of the ceiling light, you could make out the figure of Mike in front of you. He was breathing heavily. With the bat still in his hand, he was towering over you. He just looked at you for one more second, before finally realizing what was happening. He quickly dropped the bat, a hand flying to his face, covering his mouth in disbelief of what he had just done.

“I´m sorry…”, he mumbled, dropping to his knees,”I'm so sorry. I thought…I thought it was..that it was o-one of t-them..”

Your heart broke at the sight in front of you. You quickly pulled Mike into your arms:”It's okay, Mike. I´m alright. They're gone now. They're gone.”

You gently kissed his temple, as you saw that he tried to suppress his tears. You knew that he was having a hard time dealing with the gruesome events. It had left scars on him. Both physically and mentally.

“I´m sorry..”, he muttered once more, pulling you closer to him. You only kissed his forehead again and mumbled sweet nothings into his ear until he had calmed down again.

You gently cupped your boyfriend´s face and gave him a soft smile. To your delight, he returned the smile and leaned forward to quickly peck your lips.

The sweet moment was interrupted as the voice of Abby grabbed your attention. The young girl came running into the hallway, calling out both of your names. Your smile got even bigger as she quickly came over to you, giving you a short hug, before starting to ramble about what she had drawn today and that she wanted to show you all her artworks. You happily nodded at everything that she said. 

“Alright Abbs.”, Mike suddenly said, interrupting his sister and affectionately patting her head,”You can show her tomorrow. It's time for bed now.”

The little girl pouted for a moment and turned back to you:”But I wanna stay up and play with you.”

You gave her a mischievous smile:”I tell you something. If you promise me to go to bed now, I will play and draw with you tomorrow the entire day. And I'll make your favorite Dinner, hm?”

Abby´s face lit up in anticipation. She quickly nodded and said good Night to you and Mike, before disappearing into her room.

Mike only looked at you with admiration,”How do you alway do that?”, he asked, as the two of you also made your way to your shared bedroom.

“It´s a secret”, You grinned and let yourself fall down on the bed. A satisfied groan left your lips, as you finally felt the stress from work dissolve into nothing but hot air.

You watched how Mike pulled his Hoodie over his head and throwing it to the side. Now only left in his T-Shirt, he flopped down beside you, propping his head up on his arm and looking down at you. He didn't say anything for a few seconds, just looking you up and down, before he slowly lifted his hand and gently grasped your cheek. You gasped quietly, as he suddenly leaned forward and connected your lips in a sweet and tender kiss. It only lasted for a few seconds before he pulled back again. You looked up at him and saw that his eyes were closed, as he leaned his forehead against yours.

Finally, Mike opened his mouth to say something, but after a few seconds of silence, he closed it again and he opened his eyes. You looked at his dark orbs and almost lost yourself in all the emotions, he was trying to convey only with his gaze.

“It's okay.”, you affirmed, “I know. You don't have to say anything, Mike.”

The boy only smiled at you and it was a genuine smile. One, that you rarely got to see.

Without another word, Mike suddenly sat up, pulling you with him and into his lap. You gasped loudly at the sudden change of position, which gave Mike the chance to put his mouth back onto yours.

This kiss was different. It was passionate, hungry even. He groaned lowly as he pulled your body tighter against his. Your hands pressing up against his chest, while he explored your Body with his.

“Mike..”, you warned him, as he started to kiss your jaw, your skin burning like fire everytime his lips touched you.

“Your sister…”, You mumbled again, but you and him both knew that it was already too late, that you were already at his mercy, the gaze of yours just as hungry as his.

“We'll be quiet.”, he finally answered, as he pushed you off his lap and onto the mattress. You watched how he now also pulled his Shirt over his head, before leaning down to kiss you again. You moaned against his lips, as you felt his cold hands wander under your sweater. He squeezed your hips tenderly, while making it his mission to let you drown in his kisses. As he finally parted to help you out of your clothes, you immediately missed the feeling of his lips pressing against yours.

Quickly you pulled your sweater over your head, discarding it on the floor. Mike only admired you for a few seconds, his gaze wandering all over your Body and you felt heat rising to your cheeks.

“Don't look at me like that.”, you mumbled and gently put your hand over his eyes.

Mike only chuckled at your antics,”Like what?”, he asked, acting all innocent and letting your hand remain on top of his eyes.

After a few seconds of Silence, you slowly pulled your hand back and his eyes went back to look at you.

“Like that.”, You croaked, looking away from him.

“But why?”, Mike teased, pulling you closer to his body by your hips,”I love what I am seeing.”

Upon hearing his words, you looked back up at him. his eyes held no ounce of doubt. He was a hundred percent sure.

“I love you too, Mike”, You smiled and quickly pecked his lips. Mike only returned the smile,”May I?”, he asked, mentioning towards your bra.

You quickly nodded and mere seconds later, your bra joined the heap of clothing that was already on the floor.

Mike´s lips quickly latched onto your breast, as his hand gave the same attention to the other. With a moan, your head lolled back in pleasure.

“You like that, hm?”, Mike mumbled, as he pushed you back down on the bed. You weren't able to form a coherent sentence anymore, so you just nodded.

“Please, let me have you.”, he urged, his hands wandering to the hem of your pants,”Let me make you feel good.”

“Mike please..”, You finally pressed out,”I need you..Need you inside of me.”

That was all the confirmation he needed, before finally pulling your pants down, alongside your panties.

He slowly pushed your thighs apart and started to kiss up the inside of your calves, but never quite touching you where you desperately needed him.

“Mike please.”, You whined again, while trying to keep your voice down. But your eyes widened in surprise and you tried to suppress the loud moan that made it´s way up your throat, as Mike suddenly pushed two fingers inside you without a warning. His tongue joined mere seconds after, as he ate you out like a man starved.

Your hand wandered to Mike´s hair and you gently pulled and pushed at his head as he was working you closer to your release. You could already feel that coil form inside you and after only a few more seconds, it snapped and with a suppressed moan, you came against his mouth.

As your heavy breathing started to slow down again, Mike finally looked back up at you, the desire in his eyes bigger than ever. He quickly latched his lips on yours again and you could taste yourself on him as he kissed you hungrily.

Your hands now wandered towards his sweats and as you grabbed his already hard member through his pants. He groaned lowly, closing his eyes in pleasure.

Quickly, you pulled down his pants, leaving him now also bare in front of you. Without a second thought, you grabbed his length and gave him a few experimental pumps. That seemed to do the trick on him and you watched how Mike´s brows furrowed, as he melted against your touch.

“Wanna be inside you..”,he mumbled against the skin of your shoulder. With anticipation, you lined him up with your entrance and looked back up at him. Mike was looking at you questioningly. And as soon as you gave him a small nod, he finally pushed inside of you.

You grabbed onto his biceps, as the pain slowly dissolved into pleasure. Mike slowly started moving in and out of you, grabbing your hips tightly. You suppressed a moan by sinking your teeth into his shoulder. Not to pierce the skin, but hard enough to leave a mark.

You could hear Mike mumbling incoherent words into your ear, as he picked up his pace, desperately trying to push you over the edge again.

“Mike..”, You moaned, feeling yourself coming closer and closer to the sweet sweet relief and as you looked back into his eyes and saw the adoration that he had for you, you were done for it. You clenched around him and came all over his cock. Mike followed soon after, continuing to fuck you through your orgasm.His thrusts got slower and sloppier and he finally pulled out of you, his breath still heavy against your skin. He quickly kissed your temple, before getting up. After a minute, he returned with a damp cloth and a water bottle. With a smile still on his face, he gently cleaned you both up, before slipping back into bed with you.

You chuckled, as he nuzzled his head into your neck, his stubble tickling your skin. You wrapped your arms around him and pulled his body closer to yours. His warmth engulfing you fully.

“Good Night, Mike.”, you smiled and gently kissed his cheek.

“Night.”, he replied with a yawn.

It didn't go unnoticed by you, that he didn't use his pills to fall asleep today. Or the recording of nature sounds. He didn't even look up at the Poster of Nebraska, that was now hanging over his bed again.

Looking at your beloved one last time, you smiled once more before finally closing your eyes and letting sweet sleep engulf you.

Bonus:

“Mike!?”

“Miiiike!?”

“Miiiiiike!?!?”

Your eyes snapped open and within a second, you were sitting up on the bed. Your gaze wandered to the door, where loud knocks and shouts were being heard. After a few seconds of trying to understand in which century you had woken up in, you realized where you were and the events of last night returned to you.

“Mike?”, You mumbled quietly and tapped your boyfriend's shoulder, who was laying next to you,”Mike??”

With a groan, he finally looked up at you and before you had the chance to say something, he tumbled off the bed due to leaving too much over the edge.

You couldn't suppress the chuckle that left your lips as you leaned down to check on Mike.

“Morning.”, You smiled, as you realized that he was fine. You quickly leaned down to peck his lips, which immediately seemed to wake him up more.

“Miiiiike!?!”

Your sweet moment was interrupted, as you heard Abby banging against the door again.

Mike let out an annoyed groan before getting up and putting his pants back on.

“In a minute, Abbs!”, he yelled back and the banging on the door finally stopped.

“We have a lot to do today.”, you said as you finally got up too and started to get dressed.

Mike only looked at you in confusion:”What do you mean?”

“Remember how I made Abby go to sleep yesterday?”, you chuckled and softly kissed his cheek before walking to the door. Pushing the handle down, you were immediately greeted by the sight of Abby who grabbed your hand and pulled you towards her room to show you her drawings.

Mike could only look after you with a tender smile on his face. How had he gotten so lucky?

[everythingisromant1c]

p1: chemistry read w/ co-star!james

co-star!james potter x actress!reader

summary: before filming can start, your director has to ofc find the perfect person to play your love interest, + what better way to do that than to have a chemistry read?

a/n: i will not pretend to know anything abt film/tv production so this is more than probably innaccurate 🙏 also this first one is not my best work but dw more drama will ensue. <33

full series - masterlist

You'd wanted this job more than anything. You'd worked harder than anyone you knew to kickstart your acting career and knew this opportunity was just the way to do it. When your agent called you about an audition for the lead role in a new show titled 'South Bay'—a drama named after the L.A. region itself—and gave you a sample of the pilot script, saying you fell in love with it wouldn't be a stretch. And after those few months later when you'd received the call that you'd gotten the part, it was safe to say you were walking on clouds for weeks afterward.

Your amazing director Minerva had cast you first and foremost, knowing your role was key to the show's success, and you'd already built a strong relationship with her after just a few weeks of knowing her.

After casting you, she'd informed you that the show's next order of business was finding someone to play your character's—Cassidy's—love interest, Aaron. When she'd told you that initially, you didn't think anything of it. But when she told you they already had gone through the first round of auditions for the role and that it was time for the infamous chemistry reads, you had to try your hardest to stay completely calm.

Aside from the fact that you'd soon be meeting the person you'd have to spend hours working with every day for God knows how many months, you also knew that the casting directors were going to be looking extra careful at the romantic chemistry you were supposed to have with the actors they brought in. You willed yourself not to get worked up when the morning came for the chemistry reads with the men auditioning for Aaron, and reminded yourself that your role in the show was already secured. Yet, for some reason, you were still on edge.

Luckily, the casting directors had narrowed down their options from the hundreds of actors who had come to audition for the role of Aaron originally to just a handful, making your job much easier. By the time noon came around, you'd already read from the script with three different candidates.

Just as you'd expected, they each had done a close-to-perfect job in their auditions. Your personal favorite was the second actor you'd read lines with, a sandy-haired guy named Remus who you thought was a really nice person as well as actor. It was important to you that the person you were going to have to pretend to be romantically interested in was a person you at least liked, and it was all too easy to imagine working with someone like Remus.

You'd expressed your thoughts to Minerva when she'd asked for them, and she nodded in agreement—a good sign—before the two casting directors beside her were calling for her attention.

"This next one, Minerva," cooed the curly-haired woman you knew as Poppy from next to her, "we think you're going to like."

"Am I?" she asked, lips curling up.

"Oh yes. When we saw him we knew right away we had to bring him in for the chemistry reading." Poppy nodded to you. "He looks promising. And he certainly has the background; his parents are Euphemia and Fleamonet Potter."

The other casting director hummed in agreement, not hiding their impressed and widened eyes. "Not to mention, he has that accent."

You had to fight your expression from turning sour. A Potter? If there was one thing you didn't appreciate in the world of acting, it was nepotism. After working so hard and starting from the ground up to get your acting career where it currently was, the last thing you wanted was to have to see your director swoon over some guy just because of who his parents were.

Nonetheless, you had faith in Minerva to pick the person who truly deserved the job. You watched her nod at the two women beside her, intrigued nonetheless. She waved a hand over to the security guard by the door in the corner of the room.

"Bring Potter in?"

The burly man nodded and exited the room briefly, and not a minute had gone by before he returned with the man you assumed was the young Potter in tow.

You subconsciously stood up straighter when you saw him, trying to push away any premeditated opinions of the man approaching. Brown curls and a genetically gifted bone structure you could see from feet away, he walked into the room confidently with reason. He immediately offered the security guard who had brought him into the room a handshake, and you watched as the tall brick wall of a man lit up with a bright smile from the gesture. Potter then rolled out more charming words of greeting to the director and casting directors, and you took the opportunity to scan him over in more detail.

With an interest you couldn't explain, you saw that he was strikingly handsome in the kind of way you'd expect the son of two celebrities to be; he was wearing a black t-shirt that clung to him flatteringly, with that sort of movie-star quality you knew audiences always swooned over. It didn't help that the moment he walked in you saw each of the directors turn to each other with raised brows and suggestive smiles that only widened when he introduced himself, charmingly posh British accent and all. You had to fight back from rolling your eyes at their reactions.

"James," greeted Poppy, standing up from her seat to give the man a handshake.

"Poppy," the man regarded, and you felt your eyebrows raise at the fact that he was already on a first-name basis with the head casting director.

She sat back down after a moment, keeping her attention on the man—James—as she spoke. "James, this is Minerva McGonagall, the Director of South Bay."

"I'm such an admirer of your work, Mrs. McGonagall. My parents took me to see your adaptation of Henry Shay's novel about three times when it first came out."

Your parents, you thought internally with some distaste; the famous actor and actress power couple. You had to stop yourself from shaking your head.

"Please, just Minerva," the director responded warmly, and you noted that she hadn't told any of the other actors to call her by her first name. "And thank you."

Poppy nodded happily before she held out an alarming hand towards you. "And let me introduce you to the wonderful actress who is going to be playing South Bay's leading lady Cassidy Ward."

You plastered on a smile and introduced yourself as plainly and confidently as you could, definitely not feeling suddenly conscious of your appearance as his warm-colored eyes raked over you.

James took that second to scan you over before realizing with a simmering feeling in the planes of his chest that there was something special about you he couldn't make out, something that had him wanting to greet you with more than a handshake. He refrained, thankfully, not saying anything after you finished introducing yourself for a second you felt was a beat too long, before scrambling to hold out a hand to you.

"I'm James. James Potter," he said as if you hadn't been already made aware of his last name. "It's an honor to get to meet you."

You didn't know why but his clear flattery only made you more uneasy of him, knowing it was something he'd probably gotten used to pulling out to impress whatever important or famous people he was busy meeting through all the connections he probably had.

You stopped yourself in your tracks; you were being unfair. You'd only known the guy, if you call it knowing him, for under a minute. Shaking off the odd feeling that was creeping its way into your stomach, you shook his held out hand with a polite nod, though that didn't the prying feeling inside you go away.

"Alright." Minerva clapped her hands together, looking between the two of you. "We're just going to do a read-through of scene number thirty-four, Episode three." She motioned towards the camera crew set up behind her, them shooting her a thumbs up.

She turned back around, looking between you and James pointedly. "Remember, your characters Cassidy and Aaron are the only two characters in the show who have known each other for longer than just a few months. They're close. That connection has to be visible, however you want to show that to us."

You didn't know why, but you felt uneasy. You nodded at Minerva regardless, seeing the supportive but anticipatory look behind her eyes as she glanced between you and the man now standing in front of you like you held the answers to all her problems.

James looked surprisingly calm and collected, like there was nothing in the world that could make the James Potter nervous. The more you looked at him and the confident set of his shoulders, the more you thought that was true.

Your director smiled. "Whenever you're both ready."

You nodded, taking a breath in before turning to James. "Where were you last night?"

You watched as James reacted to you in character, his strong brows pulling inwards. "What do you mean?"

You momentarily were taken aback by the almost effortless switch in his accent, but pushed the thought aside. "Last night. When everyone else was at Ryan's party. Where were you?"

He shrugged slightly. "I was in my dorm."

"Really? Because I knocked on your door and no one answered."

"I must've been sleeping. Why do want to know so badly?"

"I don't know, maybe because half the football team got caught last night breaking into the Dean's office."

"You don't think I did that, do you?"

You stared at him and then down at the floor. James—or Aaron, really—shook his head at you, his tone dropping. "I can't believe this."

Then he turned away from you and, as the script had told you to, you grabbed his wrist softly.

"Aaron, wait," you called, and the connection of your fingers to his arm had them tingling with a certain kind of teeming energy, though you didn't let it show on your face. "Of course I don't think you did it. I just don't know what to think. We're supposed to be best friends, yet you won't even tell me where you were."

James let a second pass before he said his next line, and it was like you could see his character's inner turmoil flickering through his mind restlessly when he said, "You want to know where I was, Cassidy?" You nodded. "I was talking with your Professor."

"Professor Brown?" you frowned. "Why?"

"I was trying to get him to let you submit your final thesis late."

"What? You know he told me I couldn't because-"

"Because of me." He paused dramatically, stern jaw working. "The only reason you missed the deadline was because you were helping me when I got too drunk to even make it up the stairs to my dorm."

"That's ... that's really nice of you, Aaron, but you know how Brown is-"

"He's letting you turn it in late for full credit."

"What?" You widened your eyes. "How did you ..."

"I told him how it was my fault you missed the deadline. And I told him about how good of a student you are, how you've never turned in anything late once, not even when we were in high school. But most importantly," he took a step closer to you to hold your hand, something you noted wasn't in the script but made your fingers flood with feeling. "I told him what a good person you were. How kind you are. Even to idiots like me who get black-out drunk during finals week."

You blinked at him, letting a smile overtake your face for a moment. "You really didn't have to."

"I did."

He squeezed your hand and, even if it was only acting, the way he was looking at you so meaningfully made something in your chest tighten excitedly. You didn't have to act when you shifted your gaze to the ground nervously. Why the hell were you nervous? "I don't know how the hell you got him to say yes."

"Well, I also have to wash his car for free for the next six months, but that's just a small detail."

You let your jaw drop. "I can't believe you'd do that for me."

"Of course I would." James took another step closer, still holding tight onto your hand and not breaking the immobilizing eye contact he'd established with you the whole while. "I'd do anything for you, Cassidy."

He nodded slowly, truly looking invested. Then, in a beat as short as a breath but one that must've felt like minutes to you as you stood there unmovingly, he leaned forward. All you could do was blink as his handsome—ugh, handsome—face neared yours before tilting itself to the right, where he left a soft but lingering kiss on your downstage cheek.

Then he pulled away again, the distance between you maybe a few inches smaller than before, before finally whispering, "Anything."

That definitely was not in the script. Your eyes blinked in an alarm that surely was no longer in character, but James looked unbothered, something you were finding was his natural state of being.

You felt your mouth go slightly dry at the intensity behind his eyes as he looked at you, but the last thing you could do was look away now, so you stayed rooted in your place in front of James as you waited for your signal to break character. Waited and waited; you felt dizzy.

"Cut!"

Minerva immediately clapped, the casting directors doing the same, and you felt like you could finally breathe as you dropped James's hand that was still holding yours and turned away from him, not sparing the man a second glance for nervous reasons you couldn't place. Maybe it was because of the fact that the feeling of his stupid lips was still lingering on your cheek.

Your director's tone was neutral when she said, "Great job, you two," though you watched as she turned passionately toward the two casting directors and they began speaking in hushed tones.

You shook your leg subtly as you waited, an antsy habit that you couldn't identify the current cause of, and you felt James lean down next to you, something that sent a nauseating feeling of déjà vu through you.

"Don't worry," he whispered lowly, taking your mannerisms as a sign of distress. He noted that even when frowning you looked extremely pretty, though at his words you left his lips your frown only deepened. "You did great."

You turned to him in confusion and some offense, trying to keep your voice hushed as you asked, "Excuse me?"

He shrugged a shoulder, eyes flicking over your figure for a split second that you definitely noticed. "You just looked tense, is all."

You stared at him blankly, not knowing what he could possibly be implying. Was he saying your acting looked tense? That you didn't look sure of yourself? Like you weren't already the lead and that he was the one auditioning? 

You fought the urge to say that maybe you looked tense because he'd just kissed you on the cheek out of nowhere, and stayed defiantly silent. When you didn't say anything back he let his lips turn up into a lopsided smile that you were sure must work on all the ladies, almost a smirk, and he nudged you in the shoulder a bit like you were old friends. Who was this guy?

Whatever you thought he meant by the statement, you didn't get to say anything back, because Minerva had pulled away from her conversation and was staring expectantly at the two of you. You did your best to soften your expression away from offended and back to neutral.

"Well," she said, turning to the man beside you. "Thank you, James, for coming in."

"Thank you," he responded, tipping his head politely. Then he took a step forward and shook each of the casting director's hands, and you watched with a foul taste in your mouth as their lips visibly fought against fond smiles.

When he turned back around, he held his hand out to you as well, and you regarded it for a moment before shaking it like you did at the start of his audition, though this time it was definitely against your will. His hand was warm and smooth, like he hadn't worked a day in his life, and you hated the fact that you even noted how it felt at all.

Like he knew you didn't enjoy his presence, he smiled at you with something knowing shining in his eyes that you hated before he took his leave, the door to the room shutting behind him.

"That was ..." began Poppy, shaking her head slowly, "Perfect. Just perfect."

You couldn't help the way your lips parted almost exhasperatedly. "Really?" You hoped you hadn't revealed your surprise in your tone.

"Yes," Minerva responded instead, also seeming to be in awe. "Wow." She gestured with her hands exuberantly. "It was like I could see the show coming to life right in front of me."

"Not to mention the chemistry between you two." Poppy tipped her head at you, smirking as she fanned herself. "I mean, wow."

You bit down on the inside of your cheek to keep from saying anything you'd regret. Your throat felt dry. If you heard one more 'wow' from any of their mouths in reference to James Potter again you thought you were going to lose it. You tried to keep the premonition out of your voice as you bravely asked, "So, do you think you're going to cast him?"

Minerva paused for a moment in thought before answering you. "I mean, he was the last actor we're considering for the role, and I think he was the best we've seen today." She looked between the two other casting directors who nodded agreeingly at her words. "But I'd like to know your thoughts."

You blinked at her. "My thoughts?"

"Well, yes," she answered plainly. "He's going to be playing your love interest. And I like to hear my actor's opinions."

You pursed your lips at her words, feeling flattered but also not knowing how you were feeling at the prospect of having to work with James all the time. Although, deep within you, something was nagging at you—something you absolutely did not like—and telling you your answer.

The truth was, the scene you acted out with James felt realer, had come to life more than it had with any of the other actors that day. Maybe it was because he'd taken such liberties with the role, sure, but regardless, he did a great job. The thought made you hate yourself when you finally took a breath in to speak.

"He ..." you began unsurely, and then sighed. "He was great. Really great."

"Perfect!" Minerva clapped her hands together again, and something in your stomach churned. "We'll make contact with him as soon as possible." Her eyes twinkled as she regarded you. "I can't wait to have you two leading South Bay. I have nothing but hope."

"And," Poppy added, "it'll be great for publicity having a Potter in our cast."

The two other directors at the table nodded and murmured in agreement, and you fought from sighing. You thought of the days you'd spend on set with James Potter, of all people, not only having to get along with him but connect with him, with someone who clearly thought they were above you, enough to reassure you when you had already gotten the lead role. And then you thought of what it would be like to release South Bay to the public, your first leading role, only for Potter's undeniably charming face to be the audience's main focus. It left a sour feeling in your mouth.

But it wasn't just that horrible premonition that annoyed you; you didn't know exactly what bugged you about him in particular but you knew it hadn't gone away with his formal handshake or well-practiced manners. In fact, that'd probably only worsened the feeling.

But there was nothing you could really do about it now. At least, not if you planned on keeping your job. You were a professional, you knew that. But that didn't mean it was going to be easy to maintain that title. You really did sigh then, and something rooted in your gut told you it was going to be a long year of shooting.

[jadeylovesmarvelxo]

You and Eddie are trapped in the drama club after school in the middle of a thunderstorm. Feelings ensue.

I was going to post this tomorrow but I'm feeling kinda crappy so am posting it now ♥️ this is enemies to oh my god I'm falling for you fic.

💞

Hawkins was in the middle of the worst storm it had seen in years. The rain hadn't stopped since this morning and you could hear thunder rumbling in the distance.

All in all you wished you were tucked up at home right now instead of making your way to the drama room.

You weren't sure what possessed you to even bother going to find Eddie. Surely you had seen enough of him today that avoiding him would be a no brainer.

Eddie had been your enemy from the day the two of you first met. You met him at a talent show in middle school and were performing with your fellow cheerleaders, Eddie was performing with his band Corroded Coffin and the two of you met backstage and well sparks flew and not in a good way.

He looked different then. A buzz cut and a little less dramatic but still the same smug smile and condescending tone. That meeting kick-started the war between the two of you.

Except his stupid little barb aimed at you had been playing on your mind all day. He loved irritating you and spent a good portion doing it earlier.

Even worse he had left his metal lunchbox at your shared table in Mrs O'Donnell's class and you weren't carrying that monstrosity around all weekend.

So you decided to show up at Hellfire, straight after cheer practice to return the item. You don't want to spend any more time with Eddie than necessary so you'll make this quick.

You can hear him setting up for Hellfire and muttering to himself. Taking a deep breath you head inside the drama room and he peers up at you, irritation on his face.

"Princess to what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?" He says with a hint of derision in his tone and you hurry over to place the lunchbox on the table. Now you could get far far away from the asshat as possible.

"You left this at our table Munson" his face softens into relief as he picks up the metal lunch then he scowls.

"You can go now" he motions to the door and you feel a flicker of annoyance. Couldn't he thank you for returning it at least?

"Could you at least have some manners" you huff and he smirks as he sets up one of the figures in his campaign.

"Thank you for returning it princess, now go away" he returns back to positioning the figures and you growl under your breath. He's still smiling and you're distracted for a split second at the tattoos on his arm, the bats. You've never seen them this close before and a part of you wants to reach out and touch one of them.

Wait...what the fuck? You really needed to get away from Munson, you could never think straight around him. He made you muddled at times.

"You know you really should see someone about your anger issues around me sweetheart" he suggests with a smirk and you gawk at him.

"What! You're the one who is constantly pissing me off. I swear you get some sick joy out of it" there's a faint crackling of a radio and Eddie picks up a walkie talkie completely ignoring what you said.

"Eddie, we can't get out. I'm with Mike and Lucas and Mrs Wheeler has put her foot down. She says the storm is too bad for driving" Eddie grumbles and swears under his breath.

"Henderson it's not even that bad" at that point there's a huge clap of thunder that makes you jump. It's not like you hate storms, you like them well enough but you'd prefer to be at home and cosy.

Preferably not with Munson either. You raise your eyebrow at him and he meets your gaze giving you one half of his devil sign.

Okay, you've had enough now and storm away from him, the wind whips at your hair but you don't care. You'll walk home, it won't take that long.

"Bye bye princess" Eddie waves at you from the drama door and you resist the urge to flip him the bird. Rise about it... Rise about it. Don't tell him to kiss your ass...

You're so wrapped up in your thoughts that you almost miss the tree you're sheltering under jerk violently in the wind and one of its roots rips off. It's massive.

There's a split second of silence, you freeze and fear pounds in your chest and you're sure that the tree root will crush you but just at the last minute you're knocked out of the way.

You and Eddie crash to the ground in a tangle of limbs. He's breathing hard and his arms are wrapped around you tightly. "Shit, you okay?"

There's a ringing in your ears and you're shaking but manage to calm down enough that Eddie helps you up. "Yeah, I'm okay" you shiver as the rain water has drenched your clothes and there's a stinging sensation on your arm.

"I need to patch that cut up princess, there should be a first aid kit somewhere in the drama room" he leads you inside and the both of you don't notice the door shut tightly. Usually it's propped open with something but in your haste to get back inside the item is disregarded.

Eddie is too focused on you to notice, worry etches his features. He leaves briefly and comes back with a first aid kit.

He's quiet as he patches up the cut on your arm and you access him for injuries, "Are you okay Eddie?" It's maybe the first time you've called him Eddie and not Munson or dumbass.

"I'm okay, he speaks in a soothing tone and that relaxes you as he looks over your body for any injuries. There's a faint cut on your knee and Eddie kneels down to patch that up as well.

He hesitates for a second then gently cleans the cut, his fingers on your skin do funny things to your stomach. A shiver (a good one) runs down your spine.

Eddie's pretty brown eyes don't help the fluttering in your stomach. Fuck.

♥️

Eddie tries to pry the door open once he notices it's shut fully. The two of you are going to try and at least get to his van, he had offered to drive you home. Which was nice of him. He had been nicer than you ever thought he could be today.

"Ahh shit, Eddie curses and he manages to get the door open but it shuts again right away with the force of the wind.

"We should wait until that calms down" you suggest and he nods in trepidation. It's getting quite late and the sky is darkening even more. The storm hasn't abated yet... The wind is still fierce and the rain is coming down albeit a little less than before but it's still bad.

You're still shivery and curse the thin fabric of your cheer uniform. Eddie nudges your shoulder and you notice that he's slipped his leather jacket over to you.

"Thanks" you murmur and he nods tightly, his legs jittery as he waits for the storm to pass.

"Um so is the band good?" You nod to his discarded denim vest and the band Dio on the back of it. Eddie smiles and nods. "Mmm yeah, don't think it would be your type of thing princess"

"I went to see Black Sabbath with my cousin Jamie. He's like a massive fan of Ozzy Osbourne, it wasn't too bad" Eddie's jaw drops and his eyes are wide as he gazes at you.

"I know I'm just full of surprises aren't I Munson?" you tease and he's still speechless.

"You saw the god that is Ozzy Osbourne?" you shrug and feel flustered under his awed gaze. It's making you feel all tingly. Something that has happened more and more around Eddie.

"I never thought I'd see the day that you were speechless Eddie Munson" you smirk then wince as a particular loud boom of thunder startles you.

You wrap Eddie's jacket around you and nuzzle into it. It smells faintly of weed and cigarettes but also whatever cologne Eddie wears, it's nice and it comforts you.

"I might be able to get some pillows and shit from the staff room, I don't know how long we will have to wait, we might need to stay here for the night or until the storm fades a bit" Eddie says and gets up.

You notice he has to keep moving and busy. It must be so he doesn't freak out. The storm is worse than either of you thought it was.

"How are you going to do that? It will be locked wouldn't it?" He grins and doesn't seem to be perturbed by this in the slightest.

"The nurses office could have blankets too. We should go there" you tell him and he nods then frowns.

"You should stay here princess. I will probably need to break in and well...everyone expects the freak to get into shit don't they, not Hawkins good girl" you scoff but feel sympathy that people think so badly of him.

It wasn't like you thought he was an asshole all the time, he definitely had his moments of being sweet...

"You need my help to get blankets if the nurse has some and the pillows. Snacks too possibly and I'm the only one with a bag and cash on me" he thinks about this then nods in agreement.

Somehow you and Eddie manage to wrangle a big blanket from the nurses office and cushions from the sofa in the teachers lounge. Also a few snacks to last the night. Eddie gulps his yoo hoo down before the two of you even get back to the drama room.

You try to make a somewhat makeshift bed on the floor with the cushions and blanket. Just in case.

Eddie is still restless but calms down when you get up to look over the campaign. There's a Dungeons and Dragons handbook on the table and a notebook that looks like it's full of Eddie's own notes.

He points out the different figures and you listen interested in the complexity of the game and take a seat on the throne like chair. "That's my spot" Eddie frowns and you settle back grinning.

"I like this spot" you beam and he shakes his head exasperated.

"Alright, looks like you're the dungeon master for the night princess" you smirk at this and turn to Eddie.

"Does that mean I can tell you what to do?" He chuckles, and shakes his head.

"That's not what a Dungeon Master is, I organise the campaign, weave the challenges the rest of the team face, shit like that. I love it" you pout at his explanation and Eddie gazes at your lips for a few seconds. Enough for your heart to skip a beat.

"Um what's a Demogorgon?" You ask feeling nervous all of a sudden and Eddie explains what it is but that funny tension is still in the air.

Even with the wind whistling outside you and Eddie don't notice. Bickering and far too wrapped up in each other to notice.

🖤

At some point near ten you feel your eyes begin to get heavy and stifle a yawn. You try to fight the feeling but one minute Eddie is talking to you and the next your head drops on his shoulder.

When Eddie wakes up you're still fast asleep on his shoulder and it makes his heart race. It feels so...right being with you like this.

It's six am according to the clock on the wall above the door. It surprised him that he slept so well but he thinks it has a little something to do with you.

Gently he tucks a strand of hair away from your face, feels the softness of your skin and a pit of longing forms in his stomach.

Fuck, he really wants you.

The storm has calmed down and he finds that he's disappointed. He's enjoyed speaking to you, more than he ever thought possible. What did that mean?

You wake up while he's pondering this. It's still dark out and now the storm has all but disappeared. Eddie feels cold when you shift from his shoulder, looking away shyly.

"Sorry, I didn't realise" you murmured and his fingers graze over yours.

"You don't have to apologise sweetheart, it was nice princess" a soft silence lingers over the two of you and you sigh.

"The weather seems to have cleared up" there's a wistful tone to your voice. Eddie wonders if you're as disappointed as him that you're free to leave.

"I had a really great time with you" you turn to him and he smiles pleased.

"You're not so bad yourself" he nudges you gently and he leans close to you, instinctively you mimic his movements. The two of you are so close now, sparks flying and the longing growing even more.

His lips are centimetres from yours and there's only a tiny gap, you're eager to close the distance. Just as your lips touch the door bangs open and Dustin, Lucas, Mike and Steve rush in.

You and Eddie wrench apart. "Eddie dude, what the hell happened?" Dustin gawks at you and you hurry over to where Steve is feeling flustered as hell.

Eddie's eyes meet yours while Dustin is talking to him and you realise that maybe Eddie hasn't been your enemy for a long time and something else has been brewing between you two all along.

...

💞

...

[rimunagenius]

Off Day

ʚ pairing: Kate Martin x Roommate!reader

ʚ word count: 2.6k words

ʚ warnings: RPF!! angst, creepy!stalker-ish!classmate, harassment, some fluff at the end

ʚ ri speaks: okay so i literally just dropped part one and the masterlist and right after i literally wrote this part! i literally pulled this series out of my ass last night…pardon my french. so i finished the masterlist and first part last night and so far, the feedback im getting is really good so…yay!☺️ anyways, this part is a little dark? but trustttt it will be resolved soon.

Part 2

| Series Masterlist |

You desperately wanted to crawl back into bed, get back under the cool covers, and just lie there until the world ended. Or until Kate got home. Either way, you wanted to be anywhere but class.

Something about today was so off. You woke up and did your routine like any normal day. Kate left earlier than you but came back right before you left. You left her breakfast or lunch, whatever she decided to classify it as on the counter, and said you'd see her later at practice. That was 3 hours ago.

But today you had an exam in your anatomy class. This class was easy but you just did not want to be there because of Nick. Ever since a couple of days ago when you told Kate what went down between him and Gabbie, he's been relentless in getting the details of "your and Kate's relationship." You didn't want to tell him it wasn't Kate because you'd rather have to pretend to date her than anyone in California. Especially the girls you knew.

Something about Nick was off so you weren't going to pick a random girl in your following on Instagram. Knowing him, he'd probably stalk the poor woman. You just wanted to skip this class altogether. You hoped this line in the coffee shop on campus would move faster to possibly find a seat where other people could fill in around you before he could.

"Hey!" You turned your head, pulled one airpod out of your ear, and smiled at the brunette next to you. Her name was Juliana and you had class with her in like ten minutes.

"Oh, my god, hi!" You put the AirPod back in its case, abandoning the tranquility for the rest of whatever conversation was going to ensue.

"Not to be nosy or get in your business, and I really don't want to make you uncomfortable, but that guy over there keeps staring at you." She pointed her finger, subtly, in the direction behind her. You got to be fucken kidding…Nick. "He's been saying things to people in anatomy, saying you guys are talking, and how he doesn't like how you're too close to Kate. Or something like that, it's all unclear. But I found it weird and thought you should know." Her face looked genuinely concerned. Her eyes went soft as she looked at your expression change from friendly to somewhat terrified.

"Oh, my god. Thanks for telling me. I don't even know him. He's asked me out a couple of times but I rejected him. Who is he telling? Do a lot of people know?" You asked her. Your hands started to get clammy, as you started to move to the pick-up counter, your name being called; your drink ready.

"I honestly have no idea, but if anyone asks just tell them you're in a relationship." Juliana suggested, unsure of how to handle the whole situation.

"Yeah, I thought he'd leave me alone when my friend Gabbie had said I was seeing someone already. He automatically assumed it was my best friend Kate." You really thought this was behind you. This was probably the bad feeling you've been feeling all day.

"Oh, so you're not dating Kate?" Juliana asked, her face lightening up.

"No, but she said she was okay with going along with it to keep him away from me. Why? You like her?" You had no idea she swung that way. She usually talked about boy drama whenever you guys did group work in your class.

"Uh, no. But if she decides to start seeing someone and needs to drop the whole "fake girlfriend" thing, you can definitely ask me. I'm happy to help." She smiled warmly at you. You were very grateful for her willingness to help.

"Oh, okay. Thank you so much!" Her friend then called her over, and you both said goodbye. You had already made it to your class. Juliana keeping you company the whole way. You walked in and took a seat, pulling out your phone. You figured you could text Kate and let her know that if Juliana was willing to help, you'd relieve her of her duties. You also wanted to catch her up on what the hell went down in the coffee shop.

"you will not believe what just happened..."

almost instantly, her response bubble popped up.

"omg, what?"

"a friend in my anatomy class came up to me in better buzz and told me some guy was staring at me"

"what guy? are you okay?"

"and the guy was Nick!"

"oh..."

"apparently he's telling people me and him are talking but doesn't like how me and you are so close"

"wtf. are you serious?"

"did you tell her that me and u were together?"

"ab that...she said she would be down to be my "girlfriend" if I needed it. so I was thinking I would just tell ppl that me n her are together, so that way you're not dragged into this mess lol"

"Oh."

"okay for sure."

"I gtg. I'll see you later at practice!"

"alright, see you later. love you!"

" 'bear <3 loved "alright, see you later. love you!" "

Usually, she said it back. You, Kate, and all the girls got in the habit of saying 'love you' to one another because it was true. You all loved each other so dearly. None of you had shame in how you felt about one another and how close you held each other to your hearts. But you just decided to brush it off, she was probably just super busy. 

You honestly had no idea why your mind told you to read into everything she's been saying and texting you, lately. I was seriously getting unhealthy with how much you worried about what she thought about you. You were lost in thought before someone took a seat next to you. Assuming it was Juliana because she was just outside with her friends, you turned to tell her that if she was down to be your "girlfriend." You were pretty startled to see it wasn't her but Nick instead. 

"So, how have you been?" He asked. Something about him seemingly so off. You didn't like the feeling you got around him at all. You noticed his gaze following you out of the shop with Juliana ten minutes ago. You looked around the room, the spots in the class filling up quickly. You saw Juliana walk in, but before you could get her attention, Nick moved into your line of sight and prevented anyone from coming between you two. 

"Uh, good?" You looked down at your phone trying to find anything to keep you looking as uninterested as possible. 

"That's it? Nothing else to say to me?" He seemed to be growing more irritable with the short responses. 

"I don't know what you want me to say, I didn't want to talk to you anyway." You looked at him, wishing he'd go away. You didn't want to say it out loud and catch the attention of everyone around you. 

"Oh, now that's not nice. That's no way to talk to your boyfriend." He said, a weird smile encroaching on his lips. You did not like this at all. You were genuinely starting to get scared. You pulled up Juliana's number, thankful you asked for it last week so you could send her the notes she missed. 

"911. he's starting to really freak me out." 

You sent the message and immediately Nick asked who you had been texting. "Can you please, for the love of god, leave me alone? I'm seeing someone." The smirk on his face dropped, a cold stare being directed right at you. 

"No, you're not. You're seeing me." 

"No, she's not you creep. She's my girlfriend." Juliana then sat on the opposite side of you, staring Nick down. Nick's face flushed, his eyes looking at a few people who had turned around to see what was going on. She placed a hand on your leg.

It wasn't long after your exam and when the class was dismissed that Nick approached you again. He tried to talk to you, you just want to get straight to the Carver stadium. No students that weren't on the team or staff weren't allowed in. You just needed to get there as quickly as possible. 

"Hey! Stop ignoring me." Nick semi-shouted at you. You had put both airpods in, trying to tune him out. It wasn't until he tried to grab your arm and pull you back from walking away from him that you turned around ready to blow up before your saving grace came up to both of you. 

"Hey, man! Watch the fuck out. I don't know who you think you are but you are not gonna put your hands on my friend like that. Not like that, not now, and not ever." Hannah, with the hand she had placed on his arm to throw it off you, pushed him back a little before putting her arm around your shoulder and walking away from him. "That was fucking weird. You know that guy?" She looked back to see if he was still there, and indeed he was. Watching you both walk in the direction towards the arena. 

"No, actually. He's a fucking creep who asked me out a couple of times and took it horribly. He's been harassing me for a little. He was staring at me while I was getting coffee before my class like two hours ago." You said, calming down significantly since Hannah showed up. But your stomach was still uneasy and you really did not want to go to that class tomorrow or ever until he was gone and far away from Iowa City. 

"Yeah, don't walk around campus alone anymore. I'll come to find you after every—what class is this?" 

"Anatomy." 

"Okay, after every one of your anatomy classes, I'll come to find you and we can go to practice together. Do you have friends that know what classes you have and can walk you?" Now that you think about it, Juliana was in a lot of your classes. She wanted to do nursing so most classes you had in the week, were with her. 

"Yeah, funny story. The girl that's pretending to be my girlfriend to keep that guy away, which he obviously doesn't give a damn about, is in a lot of my classes. And it works out because the ones she's not in, Kate takes me because they're on her way." You smiled at the tall girl, grateful. 

"Okay, good. I don't want you getting stalked and possibly worse because of that guy. You should report him before it gets too bad." Hannah suggested, and rightfully so. 

"Yeah, I will. Thanks again, Hannah."

The girls' practice was going well. Until it wasn't. 

"Hey, you got a minute?" You were organizing gauze and wraps in the med bag behind the bench before you looked up and saw Kate holding her nose. 

"Yes, of course, Kate. Another one?" You looked at the girl as she walked around the bench and you handed her a towel. She broke her nose every year, you and Caitlin swore on it. You grabbed some gauze squares and put them in each nostril, to absorb as much blood as possible before you completely ruined the towel. 

"Don't tilt your head back. It could cause clots." You knew she already knew that with how prone Kate was to bloody noses. But it never hurts to refresh her mind, as it is instinct to stop the bleeding. 

"Yeah, thanks." You and Kate stood there while the bleeding stopped. "Alright, I think I'm good." She said a small smile on her face. You saw some blood on her shirt, grabbing the small bottle of peroxide in the bag, and a small gauze pad, you tried to soak as much of it out so it was easier for her when she did laundry. Suddenly your phone started buzzing. A new notification every second. 

"Jeez, who is blowing up your phone?" Kate asked, as she looked at your screen lighting up and watching the notifications pop up one by one.

"I don't know. Can you check?" You asked as you tried to get the last spot of blood off her clothes. 

"It's Instagram. Someone named Nick? Is it that same Nick guy Hannah said harassed the fuck out of you today?" She set your phone down. Your stomach immediately churning. You were honestly getting the creeps. 

"Oh my god. She told you?" You asked as you looked into Kate's eyes. Both of yours mirroring each other. The same worried look. 

"Yeah, and I'm glad she did. You need to say something. Or I can if you're not comfortable." Kate suggested. Now six more new notifications popped up, all from Nick. "I'll block him for you." She said, picking up your phone but stopping to look at you. Her eyes silently asking if that was okay with you.

"Yeah, please." You sighed as you threw the gauze squares away, putting the peroxide back before watching Kate block Nick. On your main and spam account. You have no idea how he found you; your name isn’t in the usernames. You really should go private and change your message settings. "Alright lemme check your nose though, to make sure it's not broken." There was absolutely no need to do this. You knew it was probably just a simple elbow or ball to the face. You both would've known if it was broken. 

"Alright." She sat on the bench, signature manspread. Good lord. You stood between her legs, putting pressure on different parts of her nose, checking for any indication of pain. It was a little tender but that was obvious, and so was you making an excuse to keep Kate a little longer. I mean, could she blame you? You haven't seen her much in the last couple of days. Late practices you missed for studying for your exam, her leaving earlier than you and by the time you get home she's either asleep or visiting her nephew. You missed your best friend.

You could see her looking at you as you checked. Your eyes meet once or twice, small giggles escaping your lips every time. Her eyes dropping to your lips occasionally, watching your tongue poke out a little as you focused on the task at hand. That made her giggle too. "Okay, bear. You're good." You kissed the top of her head and patted her shoulder before she stood up and ran back to the court. 

"If I roll my ankle, do I get a cute nickname and a kiss too?" Caitlin shouted as she pretended to throw herself on the ground. You laughed at her antics loudly before nodding your head and yelling yes. You laughed harder as she pretended to limp towards you. 

"Yeah, I'm gonna need like ten kisses to make this unbearable pain go away."  She fakes winced as she took a seat in the spot Kate was previously in, resting her "injured" foot on the chairs next to her. 

"Oh for sure, Cait." You laughed.

Suddenly, Sydney, Kylie, Jada, and Gabbie, hobbled over pretending to be injured to get their kisses too. "You need one too, Coach Bluder?" You shouted after you made your way through half the lineup. You made the assistant coaches laugh, including Coach herself. The practice was better after that, but you just couldn't shake the events from today off. 

Maybe another movie night with Kate would fix this. A lot of ice cream must be eaten tonight. Just one night, peaceful, and Nick free.

[lilmisssona]

⋆⁺₊❅ STAYMAS 2K24 ⋆⁺₊❅

˖⋆ ˚❆ Pairing - Reader x Stray Kids

˖⋆ ˚❆ Plot - A collection of holiday-themed short stories, each centered around a different member, with a special OT8 story as the grand finale!

˖⋆ ˚❆ Genre - Romance, Comedy, Fluff, Angst, Supernatural, Crackhead energy!

˖⋆ ˚❆ A/N - Y’all, I’m practically vibrating with excitement!It’s finally time for Staymas! The gifts? Hyunjin's crackhead energy, Lee Know's sarcasm, and the chaos of three chapters a week. Buckle up, because starting the 25th, it’s about to be a holly jolly emotional rollercoaster! (˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶)

˖⋆ ˚❆ SKZ Masterlist

⋆❅*𖢔𐂂☃︎꙳⋆❅*𖢔𐂂☃︎꙳⋆❅*𖢔𐂂☃︎꙳⋆❅*𖢔𐂂☃︎꙳⋆❅*𖢔𐂂

𐙚 ̊A ' Chris ' Mas Mayhem 𐙚 ̊

𐙚 ̊Pairing - Bang Chan × Fem Reader

𐙚 ̊Plot - YN returns to Seoul after three years, having left behind her boyfriend for a work project, and finally gets transferred back just before Christmas. Excited to reunite, she decides to move into a place just beside her boyfriend’s place, only to discover it isn’t his house at all . To make matters worse, she learns her Christmas gifts have been going to the wrong address all along! Leading to an unexpected twist!

𐙚 ̊Genre - Angst, Hurt, Healing, Comedy, Fluff

⋆❅*𖢔𐂂☃︎꙳⋆❅*𖢔𐂂☃︎꙳⋆❅*𖢔𐂂☃︎꙳⋆❅*𖢔𐂂☃︎꙳⋆❅*𖢔𐂂

꥟˚｡Love Unexpected ꥟˚｡

꥟˚｡Pairing - Lee Know × Fem Reader

꥟˚｡Plot - Two years after a horrible accident, YN is left paralyzed but secretly finds purpose in a quiet job. The stranger who saved her life reappears unexpectedly at her workplace, stirring emotions and memories she thought were buried. Their fateful encounter raises questions about second chances and unspoken connections.

꥟˚｡Genre - Hurt, Trauma, Healing, Fluff

⋆❅*𖢔𐂂☃︎꙳⋆❅*𖢔𐂂☃︎꙳⋆❅*𖢔𐂂☃︎꙳⋆❅*𖢔𐂂☃︎꙳⋆❅*𖢔𐂂

⋆⁺❅ A Second Chance ⋆⁺❅

⋆⁺❅Pairing - Changbin x Fem Reader

⋆⁺❅Plot - Dating Changbin means constantly competing with his busy schedule for time together. However, it pushes you to your limit when he fails to come home on time for Christmas. As frustration builds, you start questioning where you truly stand in his priorities.

⋆⁺❅Genre - Angst, Hurt, Fluff

⋆❅*𖢔𐂂☃︎꙳⋆❅*𖢔𐂂☃︎꙳⋆❅*𖢔𐂂☃︎꙳⋆❅*𖢔𐂂☃︎꙳⋆❅*𖢔𐂂

☃︎♡Dynamic And Vibing ☃︎♡

☃︎♡Pairing - Hyunjin x Fem Reader

☃︎♡Plot - You always thought only women got nervous meeting their boyfriend's family, but your boyfriend proves otherwise. He’s adorably stressed about finding the perfect outfit for Christmas dinner, and a shopping trip leads him to a sparkling pair of iconic boots. Little did you know, those boots would be the start of some unexpected holiday drama.

☃︎♡Genre - Comedy, Crackhead energy, fluff

⋆❅*𖢔𐂂☃︎꙳⋆❅*𖢔𐂂☃︎꙳⋆❅*𖢔𐂂☃︎꙳⋆❅*𖢔𐂂☃︎꙳⋆❅*𖢔𐂂

*ੈ✩ Sorry Bestie, I love you *ੈ✩

*ੈ✩Pairing - Han Jisung x Fem Reader

*ੈ✩Plot - After being stood up for the fifth time this year, you’ve had enough of serial date ghosting. Just as you’re about to leave, your best friend Han,whom you vented to,texts back, saying to wait because he’s coming to meet you. But Han left for another city eight years ago, and when he shows up, you’re shocked to see your quirky best friend has turned into someone undeniably hot

*ੈ✩Genre - Angst, Comedy, Fluff

⋆❅*𖢔𐂂☃︎꙳⋆❅*𖢔𐂂☃︎꙳⋆❅*𖢔𐂂☃︎꙳⋆❅*𖢔𐂂☃︎꙳⋆❅*𖢔𐂂

｡𖦹° Brownie Battle ｡𖦹°

｡𖦹°Pairing - Felix x Fem Reader

｡𖦹°Plot - Felix is running late, leaving the kids quietly waiting for their dad. Deciding to take matters into your own hands, you attempt to bake brownies before he arrives, despite knowing nothing about baking. Chaos ensues as you quickly realize this might not go as planned.

｡𖦹°Genre - Comedy, Hurt, Fluff

⋆❅*𖢔𐂂☃︎꙳⋆❅*𖢔𐂂☃︎꙳⋆❅*𖢔𐂂☃︎꙳⋆❅*𖢔𐂂☃︎꙳⋆❅*𖢔𐂂

࣪ ִֶָ☾. A Knight In Christmas Armor ࣪ ִֶָ☾.

࣪ ִֶָ☾.Pairing - Seungmin x Fem Reader

࣪ ִֶָ☾.Plot - When your aunt leaves for a Christmas trip, she gives you the keys to her house and cats to look after, and you eagerly accept. However, strange and creepy things start happening, culminating in eerie voices echoing through a chilly night. After a scream sends your annoying ex-best friend, Seungmin, to your door, you find yourselves trapped inside with the cats and mysterious voices, as the faulty door won’t lock or open properly.

࣪ ִֶָ☾.Genre - Supernatural, Action, Angst, Comedy, Fluff

⋆❅*𖢔𐂂☃︎꙳⋆❅*𖢔𐂂☃︎꙳⋆❅*𖢔𐂂☃︎꙳⋆❅*𖢔𐂂☃︎꙳⋆❅*𖢔𐂂

𓍢ִ໋❀ Love To Hate You 𓍢ִ໋❀

𓍢ִ໋❀Pairing - Jeongin x Fem Reader

𓍢ִ໋❀Plot - YN and Jeongin are always bickering over the smallest things, but they’re suddenly forced to team up to host the annual Christmas party. As the preparations spiral into chaos and comedy, sparks fly between the two. What starts as a stressful partnership might just turn into the start of a holiday romance.

𓍢ִ໋❀Genre - Angst, Comedy, Fluff

⋆❅*𖢔𐂂☃︎꙳⋆❅*𖢔𐂂☃︎꙳⋆❅*𖢔𐂂☃︎꙳⋆❅*𖢔𐂂☃︎꙳⋆❅*𖢔𐂂

˙⋆✮ A Home Away From Home ✮⋆˙

˙⋆✮Pairing - Reader x Stray Kids

˙⋆✮Plot - YN has been managing Stray Kids for the past four years and has been unable to visit her family due to their upcoming comeback. With no holiday break in sight, the boys decide to take matters into their own hands. They plan to make YN's Christmas unforgettable, showing their appreciation in a heartfelt way.

˙⋆✮Genre - Angst, Hurt, Comedy, Fluff

⋆❅*𖢔𐂂☃︎꙳⋆❅*𖢔𐂂☃︎꙳⋆❅*𖢔𐂂☃︎꙳⋆❅*𖢔𐂂☃︎꙳⋆❅*𖢔𐂂

˖⋆˚❆ Tags - @atinyniki @writingforstraykids @yangbbokari @theo4eve   @livelovelaughmiko @silverstarburst @galaxycatdrawz @skzoologist @shua-f4lmings @iknowyouknowminho @krisstheidiot @hyunjinhoexxx @gho-ster @ezlynkisses @elmoslungcancer @b1nn1e-1s-cut3 @seungseung-minmin @cuddlylonelyperson @jeonginsleftcheek

⋆❅*𖢔𐂂☃︎꙳⋆❅*𖢔𐂂☃︎꙳⋆❅*𖢔𐂂☃︎꙳⋆❅*𖢔𐂂☃︎꙳⋆❅*𖢔𐂂

Comment your @ If you wish to be added or removed from this list ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

˖⋆ ❆ Endnote - Everything Here is a work of fiction and my own imagination. This does not represent the real life characteristics of Stray Kids. Make sure to like, reblog comment, and follow me for new updates!

⋆❅*𖢔𐂂☃︎꙳⋆❅*𖢔𐂂☃︎꙳⋆❅*𐂂☃︎꙳⋆❅*𖢔𐂂☃︎꙳⋆❅*𖢔𐂂

[cryptidghostgirl]

Hello hello!! You're probably swamped with asks, but if you have the time and energy, you should do a slow burn Alastor x reader set in the 1920s where the reader is a performer at mimzys speakeasy and that's where Alastor goes to chose his victims. He sees the reader for the first time and immediately thinks that they are his next victim but he keeps getting thwarted by small incidents, such as the reader leaving early and him barely missing his chance. After a while he notices small things about them and their personality after sort of observing them, and then they meet and he loses his interest in killing them. Of course the slow burn happens, the drama ensues, he's still a killer but keeps it a secret and then after a while the reader finds out. You can choose if you want a happy ending or not, but I had that idea in my mind and your one of the only writers I see that could do it justice. Thanks for sharing your talents!!! Your amazing and gifted in ways that inspire everyone who interacts with your blog🫶🫶🫶

A/N You’re literally so sweet?? Wtf?? I love you?? Thank you??? I hope you like what I did with this fun and fluffy idea!!! ahhhhhh!!!! also, I am running with the ambiguity of the ending. I am such a little slut for ambiguity.

Burn (Human!Alastor x Human!Gn!Reader)

Pairing: Alastor x Reader

Warnings: SLOW BURN. SLOW. BURNING IMAGERY. A LITTLE OVER THE TOP ON THE BURNING IMAGERY THING. Dead bodies, blood, murder, killing, mentions of stalking. This one got away from me a bit.

Word Count: 4,197

Master Lists:

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Click here and leave a comment if you want to be added to any taglists or send me an ask about it.

Ravenous, that was the word. Not in the way where everything dissolves, leaving only the object of your affection. Not in the way that someone is controlled by desire. Hungry in the way fire eats paper, in the way kindling catches light. Starved in the way that leads to a progressive repeated sense of the word, a starving. A constant state of being famished that turns into a well loved and cared for blaze. Alastor burned.

The box of matches pulled from the pocket had been Alastor going to the bar, all those months before. Nearly a year now, once he sat and really thought about it. He had been going to Mimzy's little speakeasy on the outskirts of town since it had been just that, a little speakeasy on the outskirts of town rather than the full fledged, illegal club she ran today.

Back when it was a speak easy, there had never been a problem. On that fateful day, though he hadn't known it then, the club had changed its form. It had become the kindling. Sitting down at the table had been pulling a match from the box and Y/n.... Y/n had been the rough hewn striker paper he lit it on. It was all so obvious now, looking back. The expression 'hindsight is 20/20' existed for a reason.

So, Alastor had entered the club (matchbox out of pocket). As soon as Mimzy had spotted him, she had run over with a bright smile and a glass of whiskey on the house as always. Alastor had always liked Mimzy. She was wild and positively hilarious when she wanted to be but, at the same time, she had a good head for business. Her morals were just wobbly enough that Alastor felt comfortable with her, a camaraderie he felt with no other.

The lights had gone down suddenly and Mimzy, cutting herself off mid sentence, had turned to the stage in excitement.

"Good show tonight?" Alastor had asked.

Alastor never came to Mimzy's club for the music. She knew he didn't care, not really. Still, he had the curtesy to ask and so, she whipped back towards him.

"You betcha." she grinned up at him, "I just got this new kid? Came from all the way up north, can you believe that? Anyway, they have a set of pipes like you wouldn't believe! Just the bees knees, I tell you."

Grabbing Alastor's arm, Mimzy dragged him to a table by the stage. Alastor sat down across from her (match from the box) with an air of mild reluctance. Mimzy tapped her hands on the table impatiently.

A spot light flickered on and a scrawny young kid stepped onto the stage. He couldn't be much younger than Alastor or Mimzy themselves but he was one of those people that always look younger than they are. He had been working for Mimzy for a while now but, Alastor had never bothered to learn his name. He was simply 'Mimz's Manager' in his view of the world. The kid cleared his throat, leaning in towards the microphone which had been placed at center stage.

"How are we feeling out there tonight?" he asked the room at large and there had been a miscellaneous cheer from the room at large, "Well that's good to hear! We've got a real treat for you tonight folks. All the way from the Big Apple, we bring you, Y/n!"

The kid left the stage and a new figure stepped out from the shadows (revelation of match striker paper). The minute Alastor saw them, in the well cut suit that shone dark in the light, he knew. They were perfect. Slim, but not too fit and shorter than he was. Morally ambiguous enough in their aims that they had come running from New York to work at a speakeasy. This 'Y/n,' if that was even their real name, was his ideal next victim. Alastor smiled in the dim light as somewhere off stage, a piano began to play.

"I'll be loving you, always" the person sang and Alastor was taken aback.

Mimzy had been right. He had never heard a voice like it before. They sang with an emotional depth that could be heard from few. Somehow, they still managed to keep it sounding like music.

"When the things you plan Need a helping hand I will understand, always, always"

Mimzy leaned across the table to Alastor, her eyes alight.

"What did I tell you?" she whispered.

Alastor nodded his head to the side in vague agreement.

"Not for just an hour Not for just a day"

When they finished their set a half hour later, it was to raucous applause. The house lights raised and with them, Mimzy stood from her chair.

"I'll be back in two shakes." she promised before disappearing off into the crowd.

Alastor leaned back in his chair, the wood creaking beneath his weight. Contemplatively, he took a sip from his drink. The time before a kill was nearly as an enjoyable as the act itself. It was ritualistic, it brought him closer to god.

Before he knew it, Mimzy was back, dragging the singer behind her. They looked slightly frazzled, their hair a bit messy and their brow furrowed.

"Mimzy!" they exclaimed as they struggled to keep up with the woman holding their wrist in her vice-like grip.

Their speaking voice was... different than Alastor had expected. From the way they had sung on stage, he had thought it would be sharp, loud, ebullient. Instead, it was rather soft. Alastor couldn't help but think of the creek out back of the house he had grown up in.

"Al, meet my new favorite!" Mimzy announced, coming to a stop beside Alastor.

"I..."

The situation had been unexpected to say the least. Alastor had had a long day. He hadn't come here to socialize, he came here to drink. Now, he was at a loss for words, the haze of sleep and irritation clouding his mind.

Y/n looked at Mimzy before fixing their gaze back on him. The took a step forward, fixing a smile on their face, and held out their hand.

"Y/n."

So it was their real name. The one they presented to the world, at least.

Alastor smiled, standing from his seat and taking their hand in his.

"Alastor."

They had a firm handshake. There was something authoritative about it, something just a bit too confident.

"Pleasure to be meeting you." they said.

"Quite the pleasure." Alastor nodded.

They broke contact and Y/n turned to Mimzy, suddenly seeming very tired.

"I'm gonna head, Mimzy." they hummed, their voice nearly drowned out by the cacophony surrounding them.

Before Mimzy could say a word against their statement, they were gone. The crowd sheltered them from sight almost immediately. After that night, Alastor started coming to the club a lot more often.

He always sat in the same seat, the table near stage left. It was right next to the exit. Anyone getting off the stage had to go right past him. It was a calculated choice. Step one of his little projects, so to speak, had always been learning more about his victims, finding out their patterns.

The problem was, Y/n never seemed to do the same thing twice. Every time Alastor would think himself ready, would ready everything for the action, something different happen. The first time, it had been that Y/n had simply managed to slip out earlier than normal. Mimzy was always introducing them to someone or another after their shows, delaying their departure. That night, it seemed, they had somehow been able to avoid the mayhem.

Another time, the problem had been that Y/n had stayed at the club too long. Alastor was a working man and once the clock hit midnight, it was time to cut his losses and go home. A third time, Y/n had just happened to call out sick the very night he had gotten everything back in order.

A month in, and Alastor was ready for his fourth attempt. He sat at his usual table, drinking his usual drink. When Y/n left the stage, he kept his eyes trained on them as always. It went like clockwork - Mimzy pulled them away, they tried desperately to escape and eventually, they succeeded. That was when everything went south again.

One second, Y/n was by the bar and the next? Gone. Alastor got to his feet, tossing a bill or two to the bar tender and disappearing out through the door. He was determined. Tonight had to be the night. If tonight wasn't the night? He was done. Alastor was not a foolish man, he knew when he was beat.

Quietly, nothing but the sound of cicadas and the occasional echo of a car from elsewhere in the city accompanying him, Alastor slipped down the ally he knew the club's back door let out into.

"There you are."

Alastor spun around.

"I was beginning to think you wouldn't show."

Y/n leaned casually against the wall, the dark fabric of their dress blending softly with the night. When Alastor didn't reply, standing in their gaze like a deer in headlights, they stood themselves up and walked the step and a half it took for them to be face to face with him.

"I'd like it if you stopped following me. Or, trying to follow me. It's getting kind of old.'' (match struck paper, match remained unlit.)

Alastor resumed his composure. Sliding his hands into his pockets, he leaned forward, fixing a teasing grin onto his face.

"Oh, would you now?"

Y/n, much to his surprise, held their ground.

"Yeah, I would. Whats your interest in me anyways?"

Thinking on his feet had never been an issue for Alastor. Besides, he really did have some questions for the illusive singer. Or, he had one question for them. One that might lead to others.

"Oh, you know." he hummed, straightening back up, "All the way from the 'Big Apple.'"

Y/n scoffed at his parody of their nightly introduction to the stage. They crossed their arms, glancing off to the ally's entrance as a drunk couple stumbled by.

"Yep."

"Why?"

Turning to face him again, Y/n narrowed their eyes.

"Why do you wanna know?"

The hint of an accent. At least he knew they weren't lying about where they came from.

"I suppose you can call me a curious fan."

"I think being a bit less of both those things would suit you."

They fell into a brief, nearly uncomfortable silence. Letting out a sigh, Y/n was the one to break it.

"Look," they began, "I know you're friends with my boss and all but... I am going to go back into that dive and I am going to stay there until you are long gone. I'll stay the night if I have to, d'ya get it?"

Alastor's smile tightened.

"Loud and clear."

"Good."

Y/n didn't see Alastor for another week. Slowly, the tension that had permeated their every waking moment since meeting Alastor that first night, the constant ache of his eyes on their back, began to fade. Just a little, but it was enough. When they saw him sitting at the bar almost two weeks after their little altercation, the amount it had faded was just enough to make them angry at his return.

Alastor hadn't really meant to come back. His plan was to give it a month, maybe even two. His plan was to come back and resume life like it had been before he had ever even known Y/n existed. His mind had other plans.

He had tried to find another target, occupy himself with a new victim. There was something unsatisfying about it, he couldn't quite get his head in the game. Every time he went to trail a potential victim, he heard their voice ringing out in the silence of his mind.

There you are.

Alastor had been killing for about three years now. He had a good number of victims under his belt and was in no ways a newbie. Even back when he had been one, no one had ever caught him out like that before. There had been a couple close calls, sure. There always were but waiting for him? Thwarting his plans repeatedly? Beating him at his own game?

"I thought I told you to leave me alone."

Alastor looked up from his glass of whiskey, smiling politely up at Y/n. He could feel the anger radiating off them in waves.

"Mimzy would be rather sad if I just up and disappeared like that, no explanation."

He caught sight of her across the open space and waved. With a bright smile, Mimzy waved back before returning to the conversation she had been embroiled in. Alastor turned back to Y/n.

"Oh, wouldn't you hear that? You're getting sober. Congratulations."

"Ah, but there is still the music and that wonderful new singer who came down from up north not too long ago."

Y/n took a deep breath, calming themselves.

"It's not that hard of a question to answer. Or at least, it shouldn't be for most people. What, are you on the run from the cops? I heard life is oh so dangerous in those big cities up there, after all. Maybe part of the reason was you."

"If I answer your question, will you leave me alone?"

Alastor was silent for a short moment before he replied.

"If I like the answer? Sure. I'll leave you alone."

In a single, sharp movement, Y/n dragged the stool beside him out and sat down. Tapping their fingers on the table, they got the bartender's attention and ordered themselves a drink.

"You want to know why I left New York?" they hummed thoughtfully, "It's because of guys like you."

A shock of sudden nerves fought through Alastor's system. Did they somehow know? After all this time, had someone figured it out? After just under two months?

"Guys like me? What ever on earth do you mean?"

"You know, pretty boys. Pretty boys who turn out to be creepy boys that don't know the meaning of the word 'no.'" (match struck paper, match remained unlit.)

It wasn't the first time Alastor had been called pretty or handsome or something of the like. In fact, he knew he was pretty. It was part of why the whole ruse worked. Normally, however, when people told him he was, it was accompanied by far too much blushing and looks to the side. Y/n held his gaze firmly the whole time.

"So, you're escaping an ex? A jaded lover?"

"A jaded 'someone-who-watched-me-perform-once-and-decided-it-meant-we-were-married'? Yeah."

The bartender placed the drink in front of Y/n. They picked up the glass, downing it in one go. They grimaced.

"You like my answer?"

"Hmmm... no." Alastor grinned, ear to ear, "I don't think I do."

Y/n sighed.

"What is it you want from me?"

Alastor's brow furrowed in confusion. He was very good at keeping the inside from showing on the outside. The question had just caught him so off guard, or maybe it was something about Y/n that had him on his toes, he couldn't help it. They kept seeming to make his head spin.

"Want from you?"

"Money? Sex? Fame? A fall guy? What."

"I don't want anything from you." (match struck paper, match remained unlit.)

Y/n eyed him suspiciously. The answer had been automatic. Alastor himself was struggling to comprehend the words that had left his mouth. He wanted to kill them, right? What he wanted from them was their life, right? That was what he had been working for over all these days, fighting for. He knew it was true so why did the statement not feel like a lie as it had traveled from his tongue?

"Yeah right." Y/n placed their hands on the bar, pulling themselves to stand, "I totally believe that."

"Just your time, Songbird. Just your time."

They turned to him.

"I don't understand you."

"You don't have to. I don't understand you either."

They paused.

"It frustrates me." Y/n admitted, "Who even are you? I don't know anything except your name."

Alastor gave their now empty chair a pointed look. Y/n stood in contemplation for a few seconds before they nodded their head once, seemingly to themselves, and took their seat once again. Confidently, they tapped two fingers on the lip of their empty glass.

"Another."

(match strikes paper, match lights.)

Alastor was the match, Y/n was the paper. The club stopped being kindling the moment the pair took their conversation outside its boundaries for the first time, about a month or so later. For a while, there was no kindling, there was just match and paper. Alastor liked it that way.

It had been hard enough to come to terms with the fact that he really did have no interest in killing them anymore. That the moment such an idea occurred, he could see them in his minds eye, smiling or picking at the hem of their shirt the way they did when they were nervous.

The kindling reappeared when Alastor realized the match had been struck in the first place. That was a whole other thing. The friendship suddenly seemed easy, the loss of bloodlust directed toward them was like nothing in the face of a realization like that. Once he recognized the flame, Alastor stopped being a match and Y/n stopped being paper. The match became the little flutter of their stomachs when they caught sight of one another, the tension of the moments where they could make contact. Y/n and Alastor were kindling now and they were standing oh so very close to that dangerous flame.

It was Alastor's sleeve that caught fire first. It happened when they had gotten caught in the rain. Y/n had opened their umbrella and, seeing Alastor had none, insisted he join them in its cover. Alastor had, of course, refused. With a roll of their eyes, they had grabbed his hand and yanked him forcefully into place beside them. Alastor hadn't realized they had only touched once, when they first shook hands, until Y/n's skin made contact with his once again.

The worst part about it all, was that it made sense. It made so much sense. They were quiet, contemplative, and calculative. Before long, being with them felt like being with an extension of himself in an odd way. Alastor couldn't quite describe it, he didn't have the words.

Y/n always seemed to notice things no one else did. When Alastor had forgotten his umbrella the next three or four times it had rained, they had confronted him.

"Almost like you're doing this on purpose." they had hummed softly.

Though they didn't look at him, Y/n knew Alastor was blushing.

"Shut up."

The next thing to catch had been Y/n's collar. Y/n had been chatting with him, sharing a drink before their set and they had lost track of time. At the sound of the stage manager, Alastor still did not know his name, beginning their introduction to the stage, they had jumped up in fright, hurriedly tightening their tie which they had loosened in the casual atmosphere. Noticing that the action had caused part of their collar to fold awkwardly, Alastor had gotten to his feet as well. With a gentleness he had not made use of since his mother died, he had fixed Y/n's collar.

"Wh-" they had stopped mid question, having realized what he was doing.

His hand lingered on their collar. Y/n's eyes traveled up his arm, at last meeting his own.

"Thank you."

Those big wide eyes, full of curiosity and comfort. Alastor could get lost in those.

"Y/n!" the stage manager announced.

"Shit!" they exclaimed and the magic of the moment was broken as they pulled themselves away.

All it took was that. It wasn't much but, fire has a way of working with what it has. When a few days later Y/n had stepped out into the street without looking, being too caught up in the story they were telling Alastor, and he had pulled them back just as a car passed, it was too late. The house couldn't be saved, the flames had gone too far. A few blocks later, after thanking him, Y/n had realized they were still holding hands. They stopped, pulling Alastor to a halt beside them.

"What are we doing?"

"We're going for lunch. Are you quite alright? You were the one who sugge-"

"No, Alastor. I mean: what are we doing?"

Alastor followed the path of their eyes to their interlaced fingers.

"Oh."

"Yeah."

There was a pause. The world turned around them.

"I don't... I don't know if I can do this anymore."

Alastor took a deep breath before braving the sight of their bewildered and slightly saddened face once again.

"I said all I wanted was your time."

"That's the problem."

Y/n let go of his hand, running their own through their loose hair.

"That's the problem, Alastor." they said again.

"What is?"

Y/n had a habit of telling him the most serious things eye to eye with a stoney demeanor. He was surprised to see them break from this confident custom of theirs as they looked away, their arms wrapping protectively around themself.

"I want more. I want you to want more."

Alastor was stunned, he was speechless.

"I... I'll see you tomorrow, Al."

Before they could make it more than a step away, Alastor grabbed their shoulder, spinning them to him. Y/n looked up at him, confusion painting their features with the most delicate brush.

Alastor struggled, he fought. Still, there were no words.

"Don't you get it?" he asked, "I want your time. Y/n, I want you."

Alastor kept finding himself in trickier and trickier situations. First there had been trying to kill them, then the hurdle of not wanting to kill them. Friendship had given way to its own bag of worms and now that they were more than friends?

He had thought that it all would stop. He had thought that if things ever worked out the way they had, everything would be okay. He had forgotten his nature.

At first, hiding the killings was just as easy as it had been before. It did not stay that way. Alastor was good at hiding things, always had been. That wasn't the issue. What was the issue was that he cared about Y/n, he didn't want to hurt them. Keeping secrets... well, his mother had always told him that no one ever fools anybody. His mother was a wise woman. His mother had been right.

Y/n had stopped by as a surprise. They had a home cooked meal in a basket and a bag over their shoulder full of records they thought he would like. When they stepped into the foyer of Alastor's large, garden district home, they had called their usual greeting.

Alastor's heart had stopped at the sound of their voice. He froze, his cleaver still firmly wedged between the shoulder and chest of the man he was chopping into pieces for easier disposal. Hoping it was his mind playing tricks on him, he waited. They called again.

"Al! I have a surprise for you! The surprise is me! And also? I made you dinner. Come out! I know you're home!"

Under any other circumstances, them showing up like this would have filled him with unbridled joy. However, it wasn't any other circumstances. It was these circumstances. Alastor was covered in another man's blood. There was a body just a few rooms from his beloved. Either way, they would find out the truth. They were a nosey thing, always so inquisitive.

"Alastor!" he heard them call again.

They were closer now, much closer. He watched in a mixture of horror, despair, and a twinge of excitement as the doorknob jiiggled.

"Alastor?"

How would Y/n react to such a sight? Would they cower in fear? Was their love alone enough to hold them here, to tie them to him in loyalty? Would they run to the cops? Would they cry? Would they ask to help? Would he have to kill them too?

It was sickeningly delightful, all the unknowns. His heart pounded violently in his ears. The door swung open.

"There you are!"

Ravenous, that was the word. Not in the way where everything dissolves, leaving only the object of your affection. Not in the way that someone is controlled by desire. Hungry in the way fire eats paper, in the way kindling catches light. Starved in the way that leads to a progressive repeated sense of the word, a starving. A constant state of being famished that turns into a well loved and cared for blaze. Alastor burned.

"My dear! How wonderful to see you."

----

TAGS:

@willowshadenox @i-love-jafar @elfyeet @reader3 @lazygirlfanfic0-0 @kahlan170 @wendyphan01203-blog @fairyv-ice @clarakainda @lunaramune @mcueveryday @luxky-aish @peterpankat @corvid007 @juskonutoh @simpingsohard @sethianaa @gabile18 @slytherin4ever @skyeliteratures @zombiesnips-blog

Sorry if the end made you angry,,, I just think the not knowing is so much more fun!

Also the song is "Always" by Irving Berlin.

[w2soneshots]

Don’t go there -KSI

words: 0.4k+

warnings: light angst, argument.

summary: when someone mentions you in JJ’s press conference he gets angry.

notes: this was requested on my wattpad! I’ve been writing so much angst lately😆. I hope you enjoy my loves❤️‍🩹🫶🏼

Today is the press conference for JJ's upcoming boxing match with Tommy Fury. I have and always will hate watching him fight. The weeks leading up until the big night I'm constantly nervous and on edge. I never get involved with any of the drama that ensues before the fight because all I want is for JJ not to get hurt.

I got ready and so did JJ. We left relatively early and JJ drove to the location. When we arrived we were told to park in the private parking at the back of the building, so we could sneak out after the conference has finished. After almost twenty minutes we were sat in a small dressing room, along with his manager and boxing coach.

"Bye babe. See you in a bit." JJ kissed my forehead. "Bye. Good luck." I replied then he left. When the conference started I sat in the dressing room and watched it live on my phone. Logan Paul and Dylan Danis were also attending since they were part of the prime card. They talked about the fight then it got into the insults. Tommy sat back while Dylan spat stuff to Logan.

"And where the fuck is your girlfriend KSI?" Dylan said. JJ was being silent so I was confused on why he began chatting to him. "Don't fucking talk about my girl!" He angrily cursed into the mic. "You didn't answer my question, I bet she's out with her other man." I chuckled, that was one of the most embarrassing comments I've ever heard. "Shut the fuck up man. You have nothing else to say to Logan so you talk to me?" JJ replied. Logan laughed loudly.

I could tell JJ was pissed off and he remained that way until the conference ended. I turned off my phone and waited until he returned to the dressing room. When he did he came in alone. "Hi." I stood. "Did you hear what he said?" He asked, walking up to me. I giggled. "Yeah, the second hand embarrassment was crazy!" I joked. JJ smiled. "I'm glad you found it funny 'cause I didn't." I placed my hands on his face. "He's a dick. I take no notice and nether should you. You're not even fighting him." I reassured him. "I love you." He pulled me into a hug. "I love you too now let's go home."

[cheonminhyuk]

tapping the sign that says "you don't need to use slurs or outwardly express bigotry to retain homophobic or racist ideas"

why is the author of hsr incapable of conceptualizing a wlw romance that does not have a sexuality crisis/societal homophobia as a central element? why is greg's route creating a new problem every update? it is not even that we as the readers don't see them as fully realized characters - the author doesn't see them as interesting enough on their own to carry out a romance with.

i'm all caught up on the dmitry romance, and i've seen quite a lot of cain's. why is it that both of them get the tension, the pining, the gradual closeness and what keeps them and lane apart is disregarded eventually because love wins i guess?

meanwhile anna's romance is 'slow burn' and 'angsty' and 'lane thinks they're just friends'...i really just think the author cannot imagine a gay ship being interesting without a backdrop of homophobia lol

and that's sort of what the problem is - interest, or lack thereof. the author doesn't think anna and greg's characters, on their own, can maintain reader interest. i've been romancing greg since the start and damn near every update there's some bullshit disagreement/conflict they have that the diamond scenes are then focused on resolving. rinse and repeat. lane can have two unfriendly interactions with greg about the squad drugging her. she is uniquely upset at greg's involvement in it because "i thought you were different". compare this to the dmitry scene, in which lane only brings the drugging up as a joke and dmitry finally says 'sorry', a season later when it no longer matters to anyone.

this brings us to greg's treatment as a whole. as someone else has pointed out, the black man is the only romance option you can actually kill. he is regarded by lane as the one having betrayed her most severely regarding the drugging, purely because what? they had one civil conversation beforehand?

onto s2 - greg is now the temporary leader of the squad. this changes nothing for him and lane. sure. in dmitry's train cabin scene, they have an exchange about this in which she tells dmitry her and greg "haven't interacted much", even if you've been romancing both. hey, at least the author's self aware? dmitry's position as general colors every single interaction he has with lane and the world, as well as the other characters, react to it. greg's position as his second-in-command is so irrelevant we find out about it only when dmitry is out of commission and someone else needs to lead the squad in his absence.

towards the season one finale, we find out the fate of emma, greg's sister. half of the ensuing interactions with him have lane thinking about how she's keeping this information from him. but she continues to do so with no good reason. 5 episodes later - the gym scene. i don't know about the mercy path, as my greg slot is not on it, but on the no compassion path, lane basically argues she can't tell him because she likes him and knowing the truth would somehow cause him to leave the squad. i simply don't buy this reason. first of all - why would greg, now knowing his sister died in the siberia base, not stay with the only people who could possibly know more about this base? second...where the fuck would he go lmao. one could argue this is simply lane being irrational, but no mercy lane has never before been portrayed as irrational, only lacking in empathy for other people. it's hard not to see this for what it is - another hook for conflict between them because the author, again, does not see greg as interesting enough on his own and feels she has to rely on cheap drama to keep readers invested.

[shytastemakerthing]

heyo!

Do you think you could write a oneshot of the riddle x reader. Reader and riddle are in a relationship.

The reader is jealous because she feels riddle is paying more attention to some one else so she boldly and confidently walks up to him, grabs his face, and kisses him, not even slightly embarrassed. And then of course, drama ensues lol.

Have a wonderful day!

Hello and thank you so much for your request! I am so sorry with how late this is, but I do hope that you enjoy this! Have a great night!

Tw: None

Prompt: Riddle Rosehearts with a jealous s/o

You really didn't understand just as to why you were so jealous, seriously, you didn't

Riddle was a housewarden, it was only natural that he would have to spend some time with the students of his dorm to ensure that they were performing at their best

He may have been more lenient with the rules ever since his overblot but that was still no reason to be slacking off

This was something that you understood when you began dating, or as he liked to call it, courting, him.

But it was starting to happen more and more frequently

As in, hours a day with one student after another, whether it be for tutoring, reprimands over more strict rules that actually did make sense, or even just planning for all the unbirthday parties that the dorm happens to hold

After that, he was just busy with his own studies, housewarden meetings, the duties he held as said housewarden

Needless to say, the longer you had to spend away from him , the more he had to be around other students merely to help will certainly begin to bring out the jealousy in you

..............BAD

Honestly, it felt childish. He was going to be busy but you just couldn't help it

At this point, it had been five days since you last actually saw him, three days since he last managed to respond to any message you sent him (you didn't flood his phone with messages, just a few here and there to not be too bothersome), but even then, it was just a simple and curt message then it was radio silence for hours or days on end.

You had enough at this point

Thankfully, Trey and Cater were able to point you in the direction that they last saw Riddle in, in the Heartslabyul lounge

And just as they said, there he was

......... Tutoring yet another student

And if you were being honest, they looked a little too close for comfort. The other student, not Riddle. Riddle was a sweetheart who was very strict when it came to his relationship with you. No funny business with anyone else. He was yours and you were his

But the coil finally snapped

Without so much as a word, you marched yourself right on over

Riddle had barely managed to register your presence was just about to question you if everything was okay or if you needed anything when you quite literally yanked him up by the lapels of his school jacket and slammed your lips to his, stunning the poor redhead silent, his face matching his hair

Whether by rage or embarrassment, we have yet to find out

In his mind, you had certainly lost yours (man wasn't the biggest on PDA like this)

In yours, you were marking what was yours and making that well known to any other student

At this rate, you have had enough with the fleeting sight of red hair past the corner, either off to help another student within his dorm or too busy attending his housewarden duties. A full week had gone by since the last time you were able to see him, to just sit down and study with one another or have lunch or tea. Not even a response in your messages, the last one being three days ago, and it was just a response to you telling him to have a good night.

Needless to say, you were absolutely over not being able to see him, and when you did, being with someone else who needed his help. You weren't even sure if the other house wardens were needed by their own students this much. Well, there were a few you could count out of that list.

But today? Today is where it all ended.

Trey had been in the Heartslabyul kitchens preparing for the next Unbirthday party that was to take place the following day, Cater with him, mostly to take pictures of what Trey was baking, looking for that #totallymagicamable dish...... Cater's words not yours and seeing you? Well, they knew just why you were here.

"If you're looking for Riddle, I saw him heading to the lounge with another student fifteen minutes ago."

Trey, the ever present seven sent, was the one to inform you of where your boyfriend had been. SO that is exactly where you went.

Making it to the lounge, you saw him sitting on one of the longer sofa's with one of his students that you didn't quite recognize, but what you did know, was that they looked a little too cozy, seeming scooting slightly closer to Riddle with each passing moment, looking like they were trying to be rather subtle about this.

Even if Riddle didn't notice, you certainly did.

Marching your way right to the sofa, the clicking of your shoes was enough to alert Riddle that someone else was approaching, and the moment your gaze met, before he could question you, your hands grasped his jacket lapels rather roughly, wrinkling the fabric with the sheer force of your grip, effectively lifting him from the sofa with whatever strength you possessed that he certainly was not aware of until now.

You were certainly delighted by the small squeak that he let out the moment you slammed your lips onto his, tasting the strawberry of the chapstick that you had given to him, hearing his breathing picking up just a bit, hands fumbling, trying to find out where to hold you, before the moment ended.

His face was as red as his hair, fumbling over his words, and eyes blown wide. The student who was with him looked just as stunned if not slightly uncomfortable as well. Good, serves them right for trying to move in on who was rightfully claimed.

"As soon as you are finished here, you better meet me at my dorm or so help me, I will find you again and drag you there myself."

Tutoring ended early that day.......

Thank you so much for your request!!

[lurkingshan]

Japanese QL Corner

It's raining jql! Hang onto your butts because this is a jam-packed post. We now have three shows airing weekly on Gaga, plus several fan subbers making our dreams come true. What a time to be alive.

Takara's Treasure

I love them, your honor. This show is from the same directing and screenwriting team as Our Dining Table, so it should come as no surprise that the characters immediately endeared themselves to me. Taishin is a lonely boy still mourning the death of his beloved pet bird and latching on to the senior who was kind to him in his low moment. Takara is a reserved tsundere who seems a bit taken aback by this weird kid who followed him to university, but Taishin's sincerity and gentleness is working on him already. It doesn't hurt that Taishin is not faking his interest in the things Takara loves, that boy is an amateur botanist. This one is going to be so much fun, and almost certainly make me cry. Can't wait!

I Hear the Sunspot

These two already own my heart. I loved that we took the time to get to know Kohei better at this early stage and understand how isolated and excluded he has felt since he began experiencing hearing loss. He needed someone loud and straightforward and unapologetic like Taichi to barrel into his life and pull him back out of his shell again. I was so relieved when Taichi confronted him immediately about his avoidance and cleared up the idea that he only wants to see him when he's being fed. The joy I felt seeing Kohei laugh and finally relax and play a simple game of basketball with his peers was immense. I could gaze at his smiling face all day.

Ayaka is in Love with Hiroko

Holy shit, I love this show! We begin our story with a makeover, and it only gets better from there. Adapted from a manga, this is an age gap office romance between an experienced lesbian and the purportedly straight junior who is in love with her. Hiroko is everyone's favorite boss at work, but she keeps her private life separate, so her colleagues have no idea she spends her nights at the local lesbian bar or that before work got so busy, she was a consummate party girl. Ayaka fell for her after an act of kindness, and she is on a mission to get Hiroko to take her seriously, but her perceived straightness is getting in the way. Shenanigans ensue! This show is charming as hell and so genuinely funny, and Hiroko is an instant fav.

Bonus: Ossan no pantsu ga nandatte ii janai ka

Episode 9 has is now available on @isaksbestpillow's blog, and besties, Daichi and Madoka are getting married!!! The way I lost my entire shit when this happened, you have no idea. I was carrying on so much I had @bengiyo worried something terrible happened, but THE VERY BEST THING HAPPENED.

Ahem. This was another fantastic episode! Makoto accompanied Mika to the Random show, where he developed his very own bias and a newfound respect for the power of kpop. Mika got to share the story of how her fandom saved her in a low moment, Moe and Makoto had a heart to heart about her lack of desire for romantic partnership and the expectations he should let go of, and the entire family is getting along so much better than we could have dreamed a few short months ago. And just as the fam was headed out for parfaits, Daichi appeared and expressed his own desire for a family, Madoka took the hint from the universe and proposed, and we all collectively held our breath and cried and cheered when Daichi said yes. What a fantastic show, I really cannot believe this drama exists.

Bonus: Zettai BL 3

And to complete this week's fan subs, @ikeoji-subs has begun posting A Man Who Defies the World of BL 3. Head here to find the latest, and if this is the first you're hearing of this series, mosey over to Gaga or Viki to watch parts 1 and 2 first! The episodes will be dropping over the next week or so, and I will share more complete thoughts about the season once they're out!

[farfromstrange]

Do No Harm

CHAPTER ONE: Night Shift

Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Pairing: Matt Murdock x F!Reader

Summary: Matt has to accompany Foggy to the ER in the middle of the night because he dislocated his shoulder. In need for some peace and quiet, Matt wanders the halls of Metro General and instead finds you crying in one of the abandoned hallways. A conversation ensues.

Warnings for this chapter: Slight angst, mention of injury.

Word Count: 4.3k

A/n: My brain gets the strangest ideas for fics and then I have to write them or else I will go crazy. This is how this baby was born. Keep in mind, I’m not a doctor. I simply watch a lot of medical dramas and I like to research medical terms for the fun of it. Heed the warnings for the entire series (see Series Masterlist) but also chapter-specific warnings that apply, as seen above. I hope you enjoy!

Read Chapter 1: Night Shift here on AO3

Ever since he can remember, Matt has hated hospitals. The antiseptic scent that lingers in the air, the sterile white walls that seem to close in around him—it all brings back memories of days spent in agony, tied to an uncomfortable bed, and seeing nothing but an endless void of black.

He can only tune out so much. The stench, the sirens, and the overlapping voices in an emergency room—they could easily kill him. 

Hospitals remind him of what he lost. He lost his vision, he lost his father and in the process, he lost his innocence. Matt lost everything, and even though he is well aware that it isn’t the hospital’s fault that he decided to save a man or that his father made a deal with the devil and got himself killed, he still hates the same empty walls that made him feel so small to begin with.

Matt doesn’t want to be a liability, he doesn’t want to be the reason the people he loves get hurt, and yet it continues to happen time and time again.

Maybe he’s cursed. It’s the only explanation for how things are going for him now. Maybe God has a grudge and finally decided to exercise his right to make his life a living hell. There is an infinite number of possibilities, but none of them make sense. 

He’s the anti-hero of his own story and that of everyone else who has ever dared to let him into their lives. He’s his own worst enemy, his personal saboteur. His unwavering pride has a tendency to get in the way of his happiness, which often leads to more bad than good, but admitting that would leave him vulnerable and exposed—and he can’t let himself get hurt again. 

It’s better to push the people he loves away before he can hurt them and force them to walk out on him the same way everyone else in his life has walked out on him ever since he can remember. At least in his twisted mind, that’s true. 

He never thought he would find himself in Metro General again, not since Claire came into his life. Claire, the caring nurse who saved him when he was on death’s door and continued doing so until she realized that falling for the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen comes with its own set of risks. 

Foggy dislocated his shoulder. 

It’s almost laughable. Out of everyone, he chose Matt to come to the hospital with him. Not Karen, Matt. He had the choice between the most empathetic person either of them have ever met, and Matt, someone so far out of touch with his own feelings, living in denial has become the standard for him. Foggy chose the latter, for whatever reason he doesn’t even seem to know himself. It just felt like the most natural thing to do, he told Matt when he asked his best friend, “Why me?”

He should feel honored that he trusts him that much, but being trapped in the sterile four walls of the hospital he only connects bad memories to while Foggy is stuck in the queue for an X-ray feels more like torture than an honorable act. 

The loud, demanding voices of the nurses, the painful groans and soft cries coming from the patients in the waiting area of the emergency room a few doors down, and the obnoxious beeping of the machines lining the walls in every room are like a swarm of bees in Matt’s inner ear. No matter how hard he tries, he can’t get them out. He’s allergic to them.

The room smells of disinfectant, blood, and other bodily fluids. He tries to focus on his cologne and the scentless laundry detergent he has grown so accustomed to over the years, but the balm only lasts for a few seconds before the wound reopens and his senses are flooded.

Matt keeps rhythmically tapping his fingers on his thigh. How much longer he can sit on this uncomfortable plastic chair in front of the radiology area and wait for Foggy to return, he doesn’t know. It won’t be long now until he loses his mind. He is about to drown in his own misery.

He feels the desperate urge to land his fist in the wall next to him. He wants to scream, cry, maybe even both—this night is not going well. He hasn’t had a good night in weeks. Tonight though, he’s stuck in the hospital rather than outside, doing something against the injustice he is forced to listen to every day.

The hits he took the previous night were pretty severe, and his ribs still hurt. The numb ache that tears through him whenever he moves is a temporary relief from the pain induced by the noise around him. Whatever bits of sanity he tries holding onto eventually slip through his fingers. 

Eventually, he can’t take it anymore. He gets up, his head tilting toward Foggy’s elevated heartbeat. He’s still in line. Fifth, probably.

Matt taps his cane against the floor, making his way down the hallway. He’s not quite sure where he’s going or where he will land, he just knows that he needs to get out of there as fast as possible.

Rounding the hundredth corner of the evening, the sound of clattering metal trays and medical supplies disappears behind layers of drywall and automatic doors. Matt takes a moment, and he realizes that right here—right where he is now—he can finally breathe again.

The sound travels more easily. The air wafting through the vents and over the cotton sheets on a row of empty beds is the only sound that meets his ears. They’re lined against one side of the wall. The rooms are empty, the doors locked. It seems as if in a moment of desperation, he found his way to one of the abandoned parts of the hospital. 

A lack of funding caused Metro General to cut their losses. It certainly wasn’t an easy decision, but with capitalism on the rise, public hospitals are barely holding on.

Even though the truth is depressing, Matt still can’t believe his luck when he realizes how quiet it is. That may be a selfish thought, but he can't help it. The world is always so loud and uncomfortable. Finding someplace quiet after torturing himself in the waiting room for hours feels like heaven on earth on such a busy night.

The fog dulling his senses finally dissipates. He takes a deep breath. The air is cleaner here. No disinfectant, only the faint scent of plastic and dust; he wouldn't have thought it possible that he would ever consider that combination a blessing.

That’s when he hears it—a slightly elevated heartbeat followed by a series of muffled sobs. He got so caught up in the fact that he finally found what he was looking for amidst the chaos that he forgot to fan out his hearing.

Despite what he originally believed, he isn’t alone.

The air smells of the salty essence of human tears. Matt stops dead in his tracks, not sure whether to continue his journey or to turn around and return to the uncomfortable plastic chair in front of the radiology department.

“This nervous breakdown space is occupied,” your soft voice bounces off the high walls. It’s thick with exhaustion. Pain. Loss. He almost recoils at the all-too-familiar feeling it elicits in him.

Matt keeps his cane hugged tight to his chest, his knuckles whitening with how hard he is gripping the base. “Oh, I...I’m sorry,” he says, careful to keep his voice light. “I didn’t catch you there.”

You’re essentially a stranger to him. A troubled one, at that. You must have your share of problems or you wouldn’t be here. You wouldn’t be crying your eyes out. He doesn’t want to intrude, but he also can’t turn around. Not now, not anymore. You’ve already noticed him.

You sniffle, your hands wiping against the soft skin of your reddened cheeks. For a moment, your heartbeat picks up in speed before returning to its normal rhythm. “It’s alright,” you assure him.

Matt picks up on the faintest hint of disinfectant and the scent of antibacterial soap on you now, maybe a little blood, and definitely antiseptic laundry detergent—you’re wearing medical scrubs.

Your shampoo smells of vanilla and some herbal element he can’t quite identify just yet. Your perfume isn’t expensive, just enough to last through a long shift and filter the sweat that is seeping out of your pores. It’s not unpleasant. You smell like someone who’s been working hard and far past your limits, too.

“Do you need something?” you ask him. 

He pauses for a moment, rethinking his answer. His lips purse. He’s not sure how to answer that without completely giving himself away.

Your eyebrows raise slightly.

“Oh, just…some peace and quiet,” Matt says, finally finding his voice again. It sounds a bit more nervous than he would like to admit.

The chuckle you exhale is one of surprise and possibly even a bit of genuine amusement. “Yeah,” you sniffle, “I know that feeling.”

“Well, I’ll, uh, leave you to it. Sorry again.”

“No. Don’t.”

Matt stops in his tracks when the words pass your lips. 

You pat the space beside you. Your perfume becomes a little clearer. It’s so natural, so… you. He could get high off of it. Or maybe it’s just the sleep deprivation catching up to him. 

“This is the only quiet corner in this hospital,” you tell him. “Trust me. Underfunding has its perks for introverts. Rest in peace to about thirty internal medicine beds, but lucky me.”

Your chuckle echoes bitterly off the walls. You use humor to cope, apparently, but you’ve run out of strength to pretend.

His cane begins to gently pave the way as he makes his way forward. “Do you mind?” Matt nods toward the bed you’re sitting on. 

You pat the mattress again with a shake of your head. “Not at all.”

Gentle seems to be the one word that is consistent with everything you do. He can’t get this picture he has painted of you based on the sound of your voice out of his head. Maybe you’re an angel and he has officially gone insane, or maybe there are just a lot more good people left in this world than he originally thought. 

Matt folds his cane and skillfully sits down on the edge of the mattress. You smell even better up close. Your heartbeat reminds him of a beautiful symphony, no longer as erratic as when he first picked up on your presence. 

“I’m Matthew, by the way,” he says.

He can hear a sudden uptick in your heartbeat. He may have just imagined it. You suck in a sharp breath, and he’s sure he didn’t imagine that, but then you lift your hand to take his.

“Olivia,” you say. 

Matt listens closely. You have no reason to lie about your name. Your heartbeat may be faster, but it isn’t a lie. You just seem a lot more nervous and unsure than before. It doesn’t quite make sense why you would be unsure about your own name.

“Nice to meet you, Olivia.” His lips curl into a soft smile.

You smile back, he can hear it, but it lacks an essence of truth. You’re trying hard to seem like you’re okay. It’s not your fault that his senses are sensitive to all changes in the human body, even in that of a stranger he just met.

You’ve been crying, so of course, you wouldn’t be alright. The question is, why? 

“I take it you’re not part of the staff,” you say into the silence.  

“No.” Matt chuckles. “I, uh, have a friend with a dislocated shoulder,” he says.

“Ah! Let me guess, his doctor in the ER reduced the dislocation but insisted on doing an X-ray just in case, so now you have to wait because radiology has a hold-up longer than the Nile?”

A laugh rumbles through his chest. “Yeah, that… that’s pretty accurate.”

“It’s always like this,” you say. “A dislocated shoulder doesn’t have priority. We have bigger fish to fry.”

“You work here?” he dares to ask. 

You pull at the bottom of your scrub top. “Guilty as charged. Trauma surgery. I’ve been an attending here for a little over two years now.”

“Oh, wow! That’s…that’s incredible.”

Matt has encountered his fair share of doctors in the past, but no one has ever been quite like you. You’re unique. Mysterious. An enigma. You have piqued his curiosity, to say the least, and your profession only adds to the pile of interesting things he can ponder about.

You smile at him again, but it’s still not a genuine one. “Thanks,” you drag the last syllable out, the air deflating your lungs.

He swallows. “Or it isn’t. I didn’t mean to–”

“No, that’s not… some days just aren’t that rewarding,” you say. “That’s all.”

“And today has been one of those days?” Matt asks.

“Yeah, something like that.”

Your eyes roam over him once again.

He reaches for his hair, running his hand through it. He ruffles the brown strands until they’re covering his left temple. Matt’s not sure if you saw; there is a high chance that you did, but he can't anticipate your behavior. Not yet. 

You let out a longer breath. “Not a fan of hospitals, I take it?” you ask.

He shakes his head. “It gets… loud,” he says. 

“Sensitivity to sound.” You nod. “Noted.”

He hears the fabric of your scrubs brushing against your skin and the cotton sheets on the bed. You cross your legs, opening yourself up to him just slightly, and he wonders if you really are comfortable around him or if you’re just being kind. 

“Probably to smell as well? Feeling? Taste?” There is a soft smile laced in your voice. This time, it’s real. 

Matt chuckles. You hit the nail right on the head. You’re simply not aware of how sensitive he is to these things. “Pretty sensitive, yeah,” he says. 

That about sums it up. You nod, but you don’t push him any further. 

“Well,” you say, “The ER is pretty disgusting. And loud. And to be forced to wait in front of radiology is probably a scenario they offer as a torture device in one of the seven circles of hell.”

He can’t help himself, “It’s nine, actually.”

“Sorry?”

“Nine circles,” Matt clarifies, his lips twitching in a faint grin. “Dante’s Inferno. A good Catholic boy’s guilty pleasure.”

You let out a genuine laugh this time, and it warms his senses. It’s a rare sound in a place filled with so much pain. He can almost hear the weight from your shoulders hit the floor. The tension in the air seems to ease, if only for a moment. You allow to let yourself go. 

Your grin turns into a smirk. “Catholic, huh?” you retort. 

“Since the day I was born,” he says. “Are you religious?”

That seems to steal your breath away. You have no words. For a full minute, silence settles in between the two of you. It’s almost uncomfortable, and Matt fears he must have crossed a line. He just doesn’t know how to apologize for something he is truly curious about. 

The topic of God and religion seems to hit a nerve when it’s not used in a humorous context. There are many reasons why that could be. He spends every day battling his own religious trauma and the demons that he feels he’s harboring deep inside, but he still holds on tight to his faith. If he doesn’t have an excuse—if he doesn’t have anything to hold onto other than what broken self-respect he has left—where would he be?

You finally clear your throat after what feels like an eternity. “No,” it’s a simple answer. “I don’t believe that there is a God.”

Your mouth stays open. You want to say something else, but your lips close within seconds after the thought has passed by you, and you swallow it. He wonders what he could have learned about you if you had allowed yourself to say what you were truly thinking when the words first left your mouth. You’re holding back, and it is audible. It might even be visible. Your cheeks are running hot. 

Matt nods. He doesn’t question you. Your beliefs are yours. Most of the time, he doesn’t even believe that there is a God himself. 

“It’s hard to keep the faith in this world, especially when you work so hard every day trying to save people’s lives. When you are forced to see what the system does to those who can’t defend themselves over and over again, but you can’t do anything about it. Or when you see what people do to each other. I mean, the cruelty of human beings is unmatched, and it makes you wonder if God is just a sadist, or if maybe he isn’t even real because a gracious God wouldn’t let innocent children die,” you cut yourself off in an instant, and he tilts his head toward you in surprise. 

Your breath shudders. “I… I’ve seen too much bad to believe that there is an all-merciful God,” you say. “So I simply don’t.”

You try to meet his eyes, but all you see is your reflection in the red of his rounded glasses. Your heart breaks a little, he can hear it. Your shoulders slump. You’re defeated.

He isn’t sure how to react to that. How to help. How to be a decent human being. Matt just doesn’t have the answers you need, and it makes him question his own faith for a minute. Not that he has ever not questioned it; his relationship with God is as complicated as it gets.

You catch yourself after a moment of staring into the void of his glasses. “But… that’s my opinion. I didn’t mean to offend you.”

“I’m not offended,” Matt says.

You were smiling, and now you’re not anymore. He doesn’t like that. He liked it more when you were more open with him. Your legs have moved back to your chest, your arms clinging to them. You’ve retreated. 

“Sorry,” you whisper. The edge in your voice breaks his heart. 

He shakes his head. “Don’t apologize. I get it. Injustice…it’s a parasite. I’ve encountered my fair share of good people who deserved better than what they got. You try and you fail over and over again because the world isn't fair. I’d be the last person to judge you for not sharing my beliefs.” He breaks off in a chuckle. “I'm not that kind of guy.”

Your eyebrows shoot up to your hairline. “What is that you do again?” You didn’t ask that question before.

“I’m a lawyer,” he states. “Defense attorney.”

“Wow,” you let out a soft puff of air, “And you chose to go to Metro General instead of jumping on the big money train to the Upper East Side?” 

Although your tone is joking, Matt can tell that there is an ounce of truth in your words.  

He hides his laugh behind a cough. He’s not sure if he’s surprised or if he actually finds that assumption hilarious. Maybe a bit of both.

“Oh, no.” He shakes his head. “I have never even been in the same station as the big money train.”

“Oh?”

“No. We, my partner and I, do pro-bono work. We don't get paid for our services. Well, other than baked goods and overdue bills in the mail, of course.”

You chuckle. “That’s a relief. Not so much for your bank account, but ethically.”

“Yeah.”

“Sorry for assuming. That was prejudiced of me,” you say. “I’m not trying to judge you. I’m sorry. Rich or not, it’s none of my business.”

Matt shrugs. “It's okay. Lawyers and doctors are the two professions so many think make millions of Dollars a year, and while that may be the case for a few, a lot of us just… don’t,” he says.

“Amen! If I had a drink, I’d toast to that.”

“Yeah, well, an intoxicated doctor would not fare well in the legal sense.”

“You think that would end my career?”

“I can’t even give you good legal advice other than, don’t.”

Your giggle turns into a laugh. “Thank you for the advice, counselor.”

He joins in. “Anytime.” 

For a moment, only the two of you exist. Matt adjusts his position, but he doesn’t take his bruised ribs into account. His wince is barely audible, yet you notice it in an instant. And when his hair slips, you can see the gash on his forehead. The one he tried to stitch up himself but probably did an awful job at concealing. 

Your eyes narrow in concern. “What happened to you?” your voice barely breeches the sound barrier. 

“Oh, nothing,” he tries to shrug it off. “Just an accident.”

“An accident?”

“I am blind, you know. I tripped, hit my head. It happens.”

“Hm.” Much to his surprise, you don’t press him further. Instead, you gently reach out to brush the sweaty strand of hair from his face that he used to cover up the aftermath of his latest endeavor. 

Now that he thinks about it, his ribs really do hurt. He’s sure nothing is broken, but they are severely bruised. Even he can feel the blood pooling under the skin. 

You bite your lip, not wanting to pry. The urge is obvious to him, but only to him. You’re good at your job. You focus on the task at hand. That is probably why you became a doctor in the first place; to help people, not to pry. 

But Matt Murdock doesn’t need help. 

“It’s fine,” he assures you. 

You nod. “I believe you.”

You don’t. You’re lying. He appreciates the effort though. You try your best at making him feel comfortable and welcome. Asking questions would only drive him away; you wouldn’t be able to satiate your pathological need to help. It’s who you are.

“Whoever patched this up did a terrible job,” you say, “and I don’t want to know who did it because if you tell me it was you, I will lose my mind, so, I choose to believe you for the sake of my own sanity.”

His lips part in a soft laugh. “Yeah, you don't wanna know,” he says.

“Can I fix it?"

He opens his mouth to decline, “You don’t have to, I–”

“Please.” 

There is no arguing with you, it seems.

Your footsteps echo in the empty hallway. One of the drawers in the cart across from the bed slides open at your touch. Matt can hear the distinct crinkle of packaging and the clanking of metal. When you return to his side, your steps are a little heavier. 

“I’m going to clean the wound and then apply a butterfly bandage to help the skin grow back together,” you explain. “The cut isn't that deep, but you must’ve hit your head pretty hard when you fell. I can’t force you to get a head CT, so… If you experience any nausea or neurological deficits in the next few days, you should come back to run some tests. But—and that is not my expert medical opinion because I don’t have the tests to back it up—I think it should be fine to heal on its own.”

“Any other advice, Doc?” he jokes. 

“Well, I can’t give the same good news about your bruised ribs.” You only have to place your hand on his side and his lips come to press tightly together. “I’m guessing third and fourth,” you say. “If one of them is fractured, it makes you run at risk for internal bleeding, but to see the extent of your injuries, we’d have to get an MRI. That is not my call to make. I can’t force you to get your battle scars checked out, I can just advise you to think about it. Really think about it.”

Matt sighs. His laughter has long died. “I know.”

He doesn’t want to repeat himself. He’s fine. He has to pretend that he’s fine because he doesn’t have time for doctors or questions. Neither you nor the law can protect him from the damage that the truth would do. 

You’re disappointed, but you swallow your pride. With delicate precision, you start cleaning the wound on his forehead, the cotton swab dabbing at the dried blood. He winces at the sting of antiseptic, a subtle twitch in response to the pain.

“Sorry,” you murmur.

Matt manages a half-smile. “It’s alright. I’ve had worse.”

That doesn’t make you feel better, but you accept it. You’ve learned to respect your patients’ wishes, even if that means swallowing a lie. 

As you work, your fingers graze over his skin with a careful tenderness. It’s a stark contrast to the harshness of the world he navigates outside—a double-edged sword. If he doesn’t go out there, more people die or get hurt. He would sustain the same injuries over and over again and almost die rather than pretend that evil isn’t lurking right outside his window every night. And there is a bigger storm brewing in the distance, one he isn’t fully prepared for. 

Yet.

You finish cleaning the wound and proceed to carefully apply a fresh bandage. Matt can feel the cool adhesive against his skin. Your touch is soothing, almost comforting, and he allows himself to relax.

“There,” you announce softly. “All patched up.”

Matt lifts his hand to touch the bandage, a habit he developed over the years to reassure himself that someone cared enough to tend to his wounds. “Thank you,” he answers. 

“No biggie.” You shrug with a tiny smile, and that makes him smile, too. It shows him that while you are displeased with his lack of respect for himself and his health, you aren’t mad at him. You just care.

The shrill beeping of your pager tears a headache through his skull.

You curse under your breath. “I’m so sorry,” you say as you skim over the text that has been sent to you. “The, uh—the ER needs me.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he quickly responds. 

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. Go. Save a life!”

You’re reluctant at first, but then your lips curl into a broader, more genuine smile, and in the heat of the moment, you grab his hand. “It was nice meeting you, Matthew,” you say. “Take care of yourself.” 

Your footsteps retreat and your heartbeat gets fainter as you walk down the hallway. He’s speechless. He doesn’t even remember how to say goodbye. 

“Oh, and do me a favor?” You stop momentarily just to ask him, “Get those ribs checked out?”

His mouth opens and closes like that of a fish on dry land. “Sure,” he says. 

“Thank you,” these are your last words to him before you take off running. 

Both of you know though that once he is out of Metro General and on his way home, he won’t come back. Not for himself, at least. And it is something you have to accept as much as he has to accept the fact that you are long gone, off to save a life in the very four walls that seemed so scary to him all alone only fifteen minutes ago.

Tag List: @shiorimakibawrites @allllium @siampie @auroraslibrary @roseallisonparker @abucketofweird @thatonegamefish @capylore @kniselle @sumo-b98 @peachstarliight @littlehappyperson @danzer8705

[nikethestatue]

The First Flight

Azriel flies Elain from House of Wind to the townhouse. Another lil fic for my Elain Archeron Week. Enjoy!

“I’ll get Nes,” Cassian announced loudly and proudly. “You get Lucien,” he told Rhys. “And you can get Elain,” that was directed at Azriel.

“We’ll see if Nes will allow you to carry her,” Azriel noted dryly.

“Of course she will!” Cassian assured him with enviable confidence. “I am the biggest and the strongest and she’ll feel safest with me.”

At ‘biggest and strongest’ Azriel raised his brow. 

“Cass, don’t get upset if Nesta doesn’t want to fly with you,” Feyre warned cautiously.

They landed in the House of Wind and Azriel fell back, preferring not to deal with the drama that was about to ensue. His only objective right now was to have Elain agree to have him carry her and fly her to the townhome. If he was stuck with Lucien–again–he’d just hurl himself off the wall. He did not need to carry Lucien as well.

Things went as well as he predicted between Nesta and Cassian. She was ready to hurl herself off the wall at the suggestion of Cass flying her. She and Feyre proceeded to bicker between the two of them, with Cassian definitely not helping, and Rhysand attempting to play some kind of referee, which was the worst idea possible. 

Azriel left them to their own devices and slipped out of the room, quickly making his way to where Elain was housed. He bypassed the small library and entered the sitting room, quietly opening the door and stepping inside.

He didn’t want to spook her, so instead, he sent out a shadow, hoping that she knew that it was him in the room with her. The shadow raced towards the sombre, sad figure that sat in front of the window. She was wearing a plain, but well-tailored cream-colour dress, and her hair was tied into a loose braid on her back. The shadow slithered over Elain’s leg and then landed on her hands, wrapping itself around her fingers. She looked down and smiled softly. There was no fear and no alarm in her expression. The shadow caressed Elain’s hand, twirling around her fingers and darting back and forth. 

Azriel approached quietly and carefully, not wanting to startle her. But Elain turned her head to him and looked him up and down. He was dressed in full armour, black and gleaming, and it occurred to him that maybe this was not the best idea. He knew that he looked menacing when he was dressed like this–and the armour was designed to instil fear and trepidation. Standing here now, with this shy, traumatised girl, looming over her was probably a terrifying sight. Shit. He should’ve thought about it before he came here. 

To Azriel’s utter surprise, Elain did not shy away and only said ‘hello’.

“Hello,” he offered, trying to make his deep, hoarse voice sound as gentle and unthreatening as possible. As he would typically do with a scared animal, he lowered himself onto his hunches in front of her and smiled. “Am I disturbing you?” he asked.

She shook her head no.

“How are you feeling?”

She thought for a moment, really considering his question, and then answered ‘I am sad’.

“I understand,” he nodded.

She looked at him, her eyes clear for once, her expression thoughtful and then whispered, “You probably do”.

He wanted to tuck a loose strand of her golden brown hair behind her ear, but he didn’t permit himself to be so bold with her. 

“Here is the deal,” he told her instead. “We’d like to move you and Nesta to the townhome where Rhys and Feyre live. In the city. Would that be alright with you?”

She seemed almost surprised when he’d asked for her opinion, and he dawned on him that most decisions about her life were probably made by someone else. She wasn’t used to being consulted. 

She nodded.

“Good. So we will need to fly down there,” he explained. “Do you think you can do that for me?”

She nodded again, her huge brown eyes drinking him in. He didn’t mind it at all. Unlike almost everyone else, it seemed that Elain wasn’t scared of him whatsoever. In fact, she seemed quite comfortable in his presence, which was very unusual. He didn’t quite know what to do with this–someone like her not being frightened of him.

“You can fly with me. Or, if you are not keen on that, you can fly with Cassian or with Rhys. How does that sound?” 

“With you,” she told him immediately, without hesitation. 

He smiled at her and whispered, “that’s my good girl”.

At these words, she seemed to perk up and then slowly licked her lower lip, before biting it softly.

He’d have to keep this in mind for later. Looked like she wanted to be his good girl.

“Do you want to take anything with you?” he offered, as she got up from the chair. He wasn’t sure if he should be touching her, but it’s like his hands had a mind of their own, and he reached and put his hand on her back, supporting her.

“No. I don’t have anything. Only my ribbons,” she said flatly. He walked beside her, still holding his palm to her back, and she didn’t ask him to remove it. In her bedroom, she grabbed a handful of ribbons and then looked around, searching to put them somewhere.

He extended his hand and said, “I’ll keep them.”

She dropped them in his open palm and he stuck the bundle in his pocket.

“Are you afraid of heights?” he thought to ask her then. 

She thought about it, “I am not sure. I’ve never been anywhere very high. This place is quite high up in the air and I don’t mind it.”

Azriel sought to reassure her, saying, “if you don’t feel well at any point, let me know. We can always take breaks.”

“I trust you,” Elain said simply. 

“Alright then, come,” he beckoned her and she followed him to the balcony. There, he stooped and opened his arms, “ready?”

She nodded, “ready” and then he carefully scooped her up and held her tightly to his chest.

She was light and small, very thin, almost sickly, and it angered him. The whole thing angered him. The fact that Nesta didn’t allow anyone to see Elain in the past seven weeks, and kept her isolated, was probably not the best idea. If he were Rhys, Azriel didn’t think he would’ve listened to Nesta and would’ve done everything to help Elain. But then, he wasn’t Rhys and Elain wasn’t his. But if she were his, things would’ve been different.

He kept his touch respectful, but he felt her next to him, the shape of her body, and having touched many a female in his lifetime, he ascertained that she would be soft and plumper if she actually ate. She wasn’t shaped like her sisters, and for whatever reason, it pleased him. He wasn’t sure why, because she was mated to another. The thought made his teeth clench and he stepped off the railing and plunged down.

“Ahhh,” she sucked in a breath in fright, throwing her arms around his neck and pressing her face into his chest.

He smiled and stroked her head, as they flew at a smooth, unhurried pace. He was glad that he just snatched her and didn’t give the others a chance to carry her instead of him. This was his time. 

Cassian was rather obvious in his attraction to Nesta. He was the least subtle male in existence, so it wasn’t exactly surprising that everyone, including Nesta, were aware of Cassian’s interest. Azriel, however…he kept his interests to himself. And from the moment Elain was Made, he couldn’t stifle his interest in her. He couldn’t stop the desire that coursed through his veins. It wasn’t a lustful need, but it wasn’t brotherly or paternal either. 

“Am I heavy?” she asked after a few moments.

“No,” he laughed. “No you aren’t.”

Her finger traced the scales of his armour, around the bicep and she murmured, “you are very strong…”

“Well, I am an Illyrian warrior.”

It sounded stupid even to his own ears, but he was too distracted by how she felt in his arms, by how her hair fluttered in the wind and swept over his face. He was too distracted by how she reached for his arm and how she shifted against his chest, her soft thighs moving until he could touch the curve of her bottom. 

Mother’s tits!

He didn’t think that this would affect him quite so strongly, but here he was, hot within his leathers, filling his lungs with the jasmine and honey scent of her, counting every pale freckle on her nose and cheeks. He moved his fingers just so, brushing over her bottom, pretending like he needed to readjust her position. He did. Only he did it for his own benefit. She didn’t seem to mind though. She leaned into his embrace, pliant and soft, and watched the city below them.

“It’s beautiful,” she murmured, awed by the sights beneath his wings. “I can’t believe that I am flying! It’s…it’s incredible!”

“I am glad you are enjoying it,” he answered. While she was looking down, he carefully dragged his nose over the top of her head, scenting her. It was neutral, but two things he could immediately tell–she wasn’t scared of him and she was very subtly aroused. Very subtly. But there was a tiny shift in her scent, a slight warming of her skin, a new spark to her eyes and cheeks. Her lips weren’t as pale as before. Whatever she was feeling, she liked it. And he wondered if it was the first thing that she liked about her new life, about this new world? Was he the first, and so far, only thing that she enjoyed in her new form?

At that thought, Azriel felt a certain smugness. 

Did he actually make her happy?

She moved again, comfortable and at ease in his arms. Her small little tit pushed into his breast plate and he hated that he was wearing it, because he couldn’t feel the softness of her breasts at his chest. 

“That’s Sidra,” he began explaining, “and that’s the sea and the port. Over there,” he jerked his head to the north, “is Illyria. On a clear day, you can see Ramiel, a holy mountain.”

“That’s where you are from,” she said. It wasn’t a question. 

“It is.”

“I’d like to visit one day,” she surprised him.

“Illyria?”

“Yes. Why not? I am sure there is beauty to your land. Both you and Cassian are good men.”

He wasn’t sure about her assessment but he didn’t argue.

Slowly, he began descending, making sure that he didn’t cause her any discomfort and watching for any signs of dizziness. But she was a trooper and seemed just fine. It pleased him, for whatever reason. Elain being comfortable with flying, not being afraid of heights, enjoying herself–it mattered to him. 

He landed on the front lawn of the townhouse, and walked down the four marble steps, before pushing the door open with his foot.

He crossed the threshold with Elain still in his arms, carrying her as if she was his bride. She wasn’t. But it didn’t stop him.

Her hair had loosened from the braid, and long strands tugged on the scales of his uniform, connecting them like golden threads. She lay in his embrace like a pale golden mass and he loved it. He was still holding her, when he finally noticed Feyre, who apparently had winnowed back home. She was watching them, wide eyed, and with a stupid little smile on her lips.  

Sighing, Azriel set Elain on her feet, making sure that she was steady on her feet. 

He didn’t plan on it, but he also couldn’t bring himself to part with her. He couldn’t end this peaceful lovely interlude just like that. He simply wasn’t ready. So, he beat Feyre to whatever she was about to say, and turned to Elain, who stood there, looking a little lost.

“Would you like me to show you the garden?” he offered. 

Elain looked up at him, looking relieved, and then nodded once. 

It seemed like she wasn’t ready to part with him either. 

[netherfeildren]

Someone's Wife in the Boat of Someone's Husband .2

Series Masterlist : Moodboard

(Joel Miller x F!Reader)

Rating: Explicit 18+

A/N: Art is Body, the Texture, Seung Ah Paik, (2008-2009)

Word Count: 4.8K

Read on AO3

.2

I mean maybe I was holding all of the aces, but what was the game?

Joan Didion, Play It As It Lays

Gerri’s sister, Andrea, makes a wonderful dinner that night, linguine with mussels in a white wine sauce, a tossed salad, and several bottles of a lovely and crisp Pinot Grigio. By all accounts, it should have been a perfect evening. Friends and family in a beautiful setting. The day had been warm and lazy and seemingly perfect on the surface, but the underlying vein of tension was inescapable and un-ignorable. A huge drama had unfolded when you’d come back inside the house from the dock earlier. Eva was up in arms that Joel hadn’t brought you in immediately after the sting, said that he had no business tending to you when you were hurt and there was a doctor present. She’d even gone as far as to suggest that perhaps, if you felt too unwell, you should head back to the city, for a fucking wasp sting. Gerri had stepped in at that, said that it had been her sister who’d rented the house, and thus, was the only one who had the right to suggest when anyone should or should not leave. A screaming match had ensued. No one had really stopped to listen when you’d said that you really were fine. 

The seven of you now sit quiet and awkward at the dinner table out on the deck facing the dark and serene lake. A gorgeous setting with a terribly dark cloud hanging over all of your heads. The conversation is stilted and forced and there is a palpably bitter ball of tension being tossed back and forth between Joel and Eva. Sharply spit whispers and murmurs under their breaths as they sit across from you. She keeps rolling her eyes and clicking her tongue at him every time he tries to join the conversation Gerri’s been fighting tooth and nail to keep going. 

Ger’s best friend, who was supposed to have joined the weekend so that you’d not be the seventh wheel, had canceled last minute, and so you now sit at the the far end of the table across from the happy couple, trying your best to drown your awkwardness and the memory of Joel’s mouth on your skin in as much wine as you can guzzle as quickly as you possibly can. Light-weight or not, these are dire circumstances, it calls for desperate measures. 

The tension between Gerri and Eva wasn’t much better, and by extension between her sister. The three of them reminded you of the angry wasp from earlier, waiting to see who’d strike first. Everything about this was filling you with a type of anxious fizz that has the nape of your neck breaking out into a cold sweat and the backs of your knees itching. You want to run to your room, get all your shit, and run away from this place and these people as quickly as you can.

And then fucking Joel. Part of you wants to kick him on the shin under the table as hard as you can. What was his problem, helping you like that, touching you like that, calling you sweetheart, putting his goddamn mouth on you? Fanning the flames of this terrible, horrible, life ruining crush you’re developing on him? Perhaps this is the wine talking, but it feels like he’s slowly consuming your mind like wildfire. The feel of his hot, wet mouth, the slide of his tongue over the sensitive center of your palm, it’s all you can think about. You can’t stop picturing what it might feel like between your legs, over the tips of your breasts. He’d said he’d be gentle, but you have the uncontainable thought that that’s the last thing you want him to be with you.

You really hate yourself. This has to be classified as some flavor of masochism or something, you sitting across from him and his wife as they have a covert fight, all while you’re imagining what it’d be like for him to lick your pussy. 

Yes, definitely a masochist. 

He hasn’t uttered a single word in the past half hour or so, but you’ve been watching him out of the corner of your eye. You’re trying to be discreet, but you’re pretty sure you’re failing, and you can feel the bright, hot flush of the wine broadcasting itself on the surface of your cheeks like a blaring sign. He looks so good. His hair is wet from the shower, slicked back, and he has a slightly red flush from the sun today across his cheeks and the bridge of his strong nose. And he’s so broad, the sleeves of his button down straining with the thickness of his biceps. Your mouth feels parched, like there’s fire crawling up your throat, writhing within the confines of your arteries, licking up the notches of your vertebrae. 

You should go home. You should get away from these people. This was a mistake. And yet you do not. You remain, for some inexplicable reason. Masochist, masochist, masochist. A girl who likes things that aren’t good for her, that will only hurt her. 

You can’t help but think there’s something strange in the way that the two of them circle each other, in the way they exist around each other. Like two opposing magnets – connected by something, some sort of sameness, but constantly repelling each other, at the same time. You can’t say, quite precisely, what it is, perhaps, the undercurrent of hostility they move around each other with, as if at any moment someone’ll swipe out with sharpened claws, go for the jugular, but also, almost slowly, lagging, as if they are very tired of fighting such an interminable fight. You recognize something in them, and it isn’t until this moment, with you sitting across from them on the universally familiar battleground that is a family dinner table, that you’re able to realize what it is – a marriage filled with nothing but unhappiness and resentment. 

They remind you, very much, of your own parents. 

With age, you now thought that whenever people spoke of love, they were rarely ever speaking of real love. Most of the time it was a shroud for power or fixation or loss. Life has taught you this, your parents have taught you this. In many ways, you are now teaching yourself this. After all, all of these things most usually serve as the true center of what a romantic relationship posed as. Maybe. Or maybe you’re wrong. Too jaded – too gnarled. But when you look at these two people sitting before you, when all you can see in them is the bitter, ghostly reflection of your own parents, all it does is reinforce that idea. 

Joel’s eyes are a little blank, as if his mind is very far away from here, as Eva goes on about her new project at work, but you watch that little, fluttering muscle in his jaw from earlier make its frustrated return. If he grinds his teeth any harder you’re worried he’ll crack them. Gerri and Tommy have been having some sort of silent conversation for the past few minutes, she kind of looks like she’s beating him up with her eyes, screaming at him to do something to make this dinner even the slightest bit more bearable. His jokes are terrible and keep falling flat which you find quite funny, even though no one else seems to. Andrea’s girlfriend got up to go to get another bottle of wine like twenty minutes ago and never came back. 

Joel has his left hand resting on the table beside his plate, the other hidden below the edge. His fingers are long and thick, the nails trimmed neatly. He keeps stretching his hand open, and rotating his wrist to the side, back and forth, as if he’s stretching the muscles in his forearm out. His ring finger and thumb come together intermittently to meet and he rubs them together slowly, slowly. You sit across from him, chin cupped in your palm and watch the slow caress of those two fingers, eyes slightly glazed. Your legs beneath the table are crossed at the knee, thighs pressed together as tightly as you can. 

Eva’s been going on for the past half hour about someone on her team who, she claims, is the best insurance agent she’s ever met in her entire career. Impressive. You think you must scoff or make some sort of unconscious sound, lost in your daze staring at his hand, because she turns to you suddenly, abandoning her tirade to bestow her critical eye on you. Your knee jerks beneath the table, bumping against the underside and rattling the dinnerware on the surface. You feel the wine flush deepen at her inspection. You hadn’t really contributed much to the conversation throughout the evening, feeling too out of place and anxious to think of something interesting to say, too distracted by the sight of him.

“You know,” she starts – her voice has a deceptively guileless lilt to it that you think people must find incredibly charming when the look in her eyes isn’t calling for blood. “You’re a little quiet. Don’t have much to contribute, do you?” she purrs. 

You clear your throat once, twice, you hear Joel spit her name under his breath, and Gerri says something from the end of the table, but a white, rushing noise is filling your ears suddenly. She sounds very familiar. You clear your throat again, “I was just really enjoying hearing all about what it’s like to sell insurance,” you tell her. “I didn’t want to interrupt.” You hear Gerri snort loudly from the other end of the table. Sometimes you could have a backbone, if you tried very, very hard. 

She hums, arches a thin eyebrow at you. “Gerri says you’re single. That you’ve been unattached for quite some time.” You hear Gerri try to interject again, but Eva cuts her off, continues her set down. “Maybe that’s why you still haven’t found someone yet. No man wants a mouse, you know.” She clicks her tongue and it makes you flinch. You can’t look away from her, it’s like you’re sitting across from a ghost. Even the cadence of her voice reminds you of your mother. When you grow up with an angry parent in your house, there will always be an angry parent in your house, and you are acutely reminded of that in this moment.“Some people might think you’re boring if you’re not careful. Don’t you agree, Joel?” She turns to him, wide grin stretched across her face, and you feel your eyes burn, backbone obliterated, back at your parent’s dinner table. 

“No, I don’t agree,” he says coldly. “That’s enough, Eva.” She ignores him. 

She cocks her head at you, “Could be somethin’ to work on,” she says sweetly. 

“Joel, think it’s time for you two to say good night, don’t you?” Tommy says from the end of the table. 

You try to say that it’s alright, but you think you might’ve accidentally swallowed your tongue in your plight to find your voice. Joel stands suddenly, his chair jostling violently with the abruptness of his movements and clasps her around the elbow, pulling her up with him. “Yeah, we’ll say good night now, everyone.” She goes along with him, laughing loudly. 

“Goodnight,” she sing-songs, as he drags her down the hallway. 

That little girl you’d used to be, the one who always needed to make herself lovable, amenable, good, surges up sharp and vicious inside of you at her words, at the uncomfortable look of embarrassment in Joel’s eyes. He couldn’t even look at you, his eyes trained uncomfortably on his plate. All the care and generosity in his gaze from the afternoon cast away in the face of his wife cutting you down and your inability to defend yourself, your pathetic meekness. 

You turn to look out at the dark water, close your eyes and take deep breaths to ease the tightness in your throat. Gerri says your name softly. You swallow once, twice, clear your throat, swallowing the humiliation. You force a smile onto your face and turn back to her, roll your eyes, “It’s okay.” You try to huff a laugh. 

“It wasn’t – I’m sorry about that,” Tommy says. He looks just as embarrassed as Joel. You want to leave so, so badly. Perhaps this need to always run is just another inheritance from your mother. Just one more terrible burden, in a long line of disappointing inherited traits, that she’s left you with. 

“Tommy, really—”

“No,” he says sharply, letting his fork clatter onto his plate. Gerri says his name softly, you see her put her hand over his clenched fist on the table. “They’re unhappy. She’s unhappy — so she tries to cast the net of her misery around the rest of us – trap us in it with her. Make us all as uncomfortable and as miserable as she is.”

“I know — I can see that. That’s why I’m saying, it’s okay. I understand.”

But you don’t think he hears you, he goes on, “And she’s got my brother trapped there with her.” He looks at Gerri now and you can see all the worry and anguish he carries for Joel in his gaze, a little helpless. “I don’t – I don’t really know how to help him anymore.”

“Baby, it isn’t on you,” Gerri tells him gently. “All you can do is be there for him.”

Tommy turns back to look at you, and for a moment, the helplessness seems to have turned to contemplation, for some reason, as he tells you, “I just want him to be happy.”

-

Joel lays in bed hours later, arm propped under his head, unable to sleep. Eva’s in the room next door with Sarah. They’d slept in separate rooms since the start of their marriage. Neither of them had ever considered the alternative, and he’s especially grateful for that right now. He has the window cracked open, and the cool breeze is soothing on his overly hot skin. His cock is hard and throbbing under his boxers, and he wants nothing more than to call your face to his mind and fuck his palm right now, but he knows he shouldn’t. That if he does it once, he’ll never be able to stop again, will use your face to fuel his fantasies forever afterwards. He can’t stoop that low. He’s not that desperate. Not yet, at least.

And he’s angry right now too. So fucking frustrated at his wife and her attitude and the things she’d said to you at dinner. And most of all, frustrated at himself. Frustrated at the fact that he hadn’t said something more to defend you, that he hadn’t prevented that terrible look of shock and hurt from crossing your face. He should’ve stepped in sooner, said something more, stood up for you. He could tell that it was difficult for you. But he’d been a little taken aback at Eva’s words, at the venom in her tone. He knows she doesn’t have any sort of real problem with you, specifically. He can see through the shroud of bitterness to the heart of the issue at hand which is nothing more than what it always is, that she’s reaching the end of her line – been too stagnant for too long, stuck around with him and Sarah for too long. She’s unhappy and she wants to leave and she’s lashing out because of it. 

He knows she just needs time to come to that on her own, to gather the resolve to abandon her daughter and finally leave the way she wants to. He also knows that this will be the last time. That after this, after she leaves this time, she’ll be done with them for good, but also, that he can’t let her continue this. He needs to set a boundary for himself, but more importantly, for Sarah. She cannot watch her mother come in and out of her life, whenever she pleases, forever. There needs to be some sort of structure to their life, to their relationship, it’s his responsibility to make sure she has that. 

So, for now, until Eva comes to this decision on her own, he’ll put up with her venom and her attitude and her lashing out at him, but at him, not at you or anyone else. You don’t deserve for the misery of his life to spill over onto you. You don’t deserve that, you’re too good for that. Too good for him. 

He’s also really fucking frustrated that his cock is hard right now. That he’s such an idiot that the confirmation that you’re single had filled him with an inappropriate amount of relief and satisfaction, that if he isn’t careful and conscious of his thoughts and his body and his proximity to you at all times, he’s almost always verging on being halfway to hard in your presence. Like some horny, desperate, perverted old man. But he can’t help himself. You’re just too pretty. And now that he knows how soft you are, that he’s held your small hand in his, that he’s gotten close enough to be able to smell that subtly sweet scent that envelops you at all times, well, he’s practically a lost cause. Putting his mouth on you today, tasting the salt of your skin, fucking Christ, he shouldn’t have done that. He can never do it again, should never get that close again. It would be, he thinks, extremely easy to lose control of himself with you.

But he also thinks, despite this very aware notion he has that he should keep his distance, that he wants to find any excuse, any at all, to be close, to get closer to you. Maybe he should go apologize. Maybe he should go and say something about tonight, tell you how sorry he is for his wife’s words, for his lack of thought to speak up for you in the moment, to ask you how your hand is, if you’re in pain, if you need anything. Yes, he thinks, he most definitely should do that. It would be the right thing, the polite thing. It’s almost necessary, he finds. 

-

This was a mistake. He knows he shouldn’t be here, he knows this is a bad idea. Dangerous in a way crafted specifically by himself to hone in on his own weaknesses, strike where he’s most vulnerable. Fucking self sabotage and self flaggelation, all at the same time. He lifts his fist to knock quietly anyways. Fuck what he should do, what about what he wants?

You take a long moment to answer, he can hear your shuffling and movement through the door. You were probably in bed, maybe you were asleep already, maybe he’ll get to see that soft, intimate look of sleep in your eyes. Maybe he’ll be so lucky. 

-

“Joel – is everything okay?” Your voice is cracked and gravelly, and you try to inconspicuously wipe away the stickiness of your slick on your hand on the back of your sleep shorts, wind the long sleeves of your soft sweater over your fingers to hide the evidence of the fact that you’d just had three of your fingers stuffed to the knuckle inside your wet cunt, trying to make yourself come at the thought of him. What the hell is he doing here right now?

You plan to never see him again after this weekend, you’ve decided. You’ll tell Gerri you can’t be friends anymore, if need be, as much as it’ll devastate you. This is too risky, you feel at risk in his presence. There is something, some terrible sense of dread you’re filled with, a fight or flight instinct, the sense of prey right before it’s taken out by a larger, stronger predator, but some sort of instinct is telling you something very bad will happen to you if you stay anywhere near this man. That he’ll make you feel things you’ve never before felt in your entire life. 

“How’s the hand?” 

You almost choke. “Wh– what?”

“The sting?”

“Oh–” you’re trying to control your breathing, the stuttering of your heart from the interrupted orgasm, paired with his presence here right now has you close to hyperventilating, “Oh, it’s fine – thank you.” Your cunt is tight and throbbing painfully.

“Doesn’t hurt anymore?”

“No,” you lie.

He shakes his head a little, gives you the gentle curve of his crooked smile, “Don’t gotta lie, sweetheart.” Your heart drops at how easily he sees through you, has your throat tightening into a knot. The reprimand at the pet name catches in your throat. After the humiliation at dinner, the tears you’d shed in the shower, the feeling of being too emotional, overly sensitive, of not being able to just brush off someone’s offhandedly cruel words, your inability, even after all these years, to develop thicker skin – it’s hard to cast away the slight comfort. Even if you know it’s wrong. 

“Your wife?” You need to remind the both of you about her, in this moment. It feels very precarious, set on the edge of a cliff, for some reason. Perhaps because of how soft his old t-shirt looks, his low, gravely voice and messy curls, the late hour – the fact that all you’re wearing is an oversized sweater and sleep shorts and that your cunt is wet and swollen. 

“Asleep with Sarah.”

“Oh, she’s–” you cut yourself off abruptly, none of your business. 

“We don’t uh –” he stutters, a blush creeping into his cheeks, “We don’t st– stay together.” He blinks rapidly, looking down at his feet. The fringe of his lashes is long and thick. 

“Oh… okay–” you can’t think what it is you’re supposed to say to that, but you’re filled with a terrible sense of premonitory dread. He’s trying to establish something now, between the two of you, you think, explain something to you about the dynamic unfolding here and the one between himself and his wife. 

“I wanted to apologize – again.” He looks back up at you now. “I’m sorry for dinner. We were incredibly rude to you.”

“You weren’t rude. You didn’t say anything.”

“Exactly. I should have said something more. I’m sorry for that.”

“That’s not what I meant. You– you don’t need to defend me from your wife. That – that isn’t–” That isn’t right, you want to say, but the words fail you.

“Maybe so – but I should’a done it anyway. She was out of line, and I’m apologizing for it now.”

“Okay–” He looks away then, peers down the dark, quiet hall. Fuck, he mutters under his breath. This feels wrong. You wonder if your mother ever felt this anxious heaviness inside of her right before she did something she knew she wasn’t supposed to. 

“We– we don’t have a conventional marriage,” he says then, spills the words in a rushed tumble. His embarrassed blush flares brighter, and you squeeze your eyes shut, hold on to the door’s edge for support, like he knows, perhaps, that he shouldn’t be going here with you but feels the need to tell you this anyways. 

You blink rapidly, the dread in your gut churns violently. You shouldn’t be hearing this right now. The two of you shouldn’t be standing here at the door of your bedroom in your pajamas having this late night, hushed conversation. You tighten your grip on the door. 

“I – I don’t follow.”

“It’s, well – I don’t –” a frustrated huff, “We’re not really… together.”

You scrunch your nose at him, “It’s – it’s open?”

He frowns, shakes his head confusedly, “What?”

“You have an open marriage – an agreement to see other people?”

He passes a palm over his mouth. “Oh – I – I guess, yes. That’s – well, she does. But it wasn’t an agreement or anything.”

This is what Gerri had alluded to, you realize. “She cheats on you?” Too harsh, but you need to be clear now, on what it is he’s trying to make you understand. Although you’re not sure why, why you feel you need this clarity. You’re treading extremely dangerous water here, surrounded by the violent sharks of your history. 

“Well, I wouldn’t call it that either. I don’t–” he laughs bitterly, “I don’t feel cheated. That’s not what it is. We don’t have a close marriage or… I guess a real one, I don’t– I don’t know what to call it – an intimate one, I suppose. We aren’t really together, in a true sense.”

“Why– why not?” Looking at him, you can’t imagine how anyone could ever not want to be close to a man like this. 

He leans against the door frame, crosses his arms across his chest so his biceps bulge, and it brings him in slightly closer to you. Your mouth feels so dry, parched. “Different reasons, incompatibility. We never – we were never in love or anything. We got married for Sarah. It was complicated, I guess.” He frowns, “And then we just did it, and now this is how we are.” He shrugs. 

“Okay…” you say slowly. You lean against the door now too, rest your head against the smooth grain, prop one foot on top of the other. If you shift your knee forward just a few inches you’d bump his leg. You want to ask him why he’s telling you this, to put him on the spot in a sense, but you know why. You know why he’s saying these things to you. There is, against all odds, against all rationality, logic, morals, fear, there is something here, between the two of you. You’re afraid, you carry your baggage on your shoulders like the weight of a mountain, like the weight of a lifetime of fear and abandonment and painful longing, but you aren’t stupid or blind. You know there’s something unspoken blooming here between the two of you, intentional or not.

“Okay,” he says back to you, equally slowly. His eyes shift between yours, the look in them, so soft and warm. Kind eyes, he has kind eyes. Honest eyes, despite what’s happening here now. Despite the fact that even though you know it should feel dishonest, it doesn’t, not really. “Just wanted to tell you that.”

“I understand,” you tell him, because you do. You do understand. 

“And to apologize.”

“You already did that.”

The gentle curve of his smile, “Again, then.”

You can’t help but smile back, “Apology accepted.”

“And to check on that hand.”

You hold up your open palm for his inspection. “I think I’ll live.” And then he brings his own hand up, without your expecting it, and catches the thin of your wrist on either side by two thick fingers, gently brushes his thumb against the prominence of the bone at your joint. He nods his head tightly, jaw clenched once again, and then lets you go. 

“You have to,” and you think he means it in jest, but he says it so seriously, the look in his eyes so direct, but also…sad, slightly sad or desperate or something you can’t fully identify, that causes the joke to fall flat, has the muscles in your throat tightening painfully. 

“I’ll try.” You can’t tell what it is you’re promising to try to do. To live? To stay away from him? To let him come closer? Does it even matter? Is the act of trying wholly futile already? In some insane way, it feels like it is. As if what’s going to happen is already set in stone and nothing either of you do or don’t do will be able to change the course. 

The thought terrifies you.

He’s quiet for another beat, the two of you just looking at each other. You wish you could press your front to his, feel his breath push into your belly with each one of his inhales, fit your nose to the space behind in his ear, where the scent of him is strongest, and breathe him in, memorize him. You think you’d like to know everything about him. What his favorite meal is, what books he likes to read, what his parents are like, what music he listens to, what his favorite thing to do with Sarah is. 

None of that information is yours to have though, so all you’ll take from him now is his unnecessary apology.

“Goodnight, Joel.”

He nods once, pauses, twice, swallows. He doesn’t want to go. He’s telling you this with his silence and his lingering, but then he lets his eyes flutter shut and nods once more, slowly this time, and you watch another swallow pass through the strong column of his throat. 

“Goodnight, sweetheart.” You don’t correct him this time either.

Chapter .3

Netherfeildren's Masterlist

[mamisfavmosher]

I love your writing

Can you write about reader having a fight with the judgment day about something that happened like they were partying and some people couldn’t stop flirting with reader but they were feeling uncomfortable for example but reader was in the right but they wouldn’t believe them so that lead to a huge fight and reader feeling completely alone until someone realised they made a mistake and try to convince reader to take them back please?

thank you!

tainted trust // poly!judgment day x fem!reader

warnings: angst, yelling, insecure!jealous!judgment day, argument, language, etc

Readers POV

"You're pathetic, you know that?!" Rhea bellowed as soon as she slammed the front door shut. "You think you need to flirt with every man who gives you the slightest bit of attention! Are you that much of a whore? Huh?" Her aggression and anger were the most apparent out of the four of them.

Rhea's insults cut into me like knives. "I didn't flirt with him! I already told you that!" I defended. The Judgment Day and I had gone to a bar with some coworkers after the weekly show had ended and at some point throughout the night, the four gothic members had left my side for a few short moments. Enough time for some creep who had kept his eye on me to make a move.

*Back at the club

"Hey, beautiful! Let me buy you a drink!" The man shuffled toward me and attempted to grab my hand.

"No, thanks. I'm not interested." I tried to keep my voice blunt and void of emotions in hopes of turning the man away. As I took my eyes off of him to search for my partners in the crowd, his hands gripped my waist and pulled me into him. "Get off me!" My hands pushed at his chest until he released me.

"Relax, babe. I'm just having some fun!" He gave me a gross smile and ran his hand down my arm. I shoved his hand away and scanned the crowd in a panic. The four of them weren't hard to miss. Where could they be? "C'mon! Let's go dance!" The man forcefully grabbed me and pulled me along with him to the dance floor. He turned me around and tightly held my hips against him, preventing me from pushing away. As I worked on slapping his hands off of me, I noticed a tense energy surround us. I looked up to see the four members of the Judgment Day fuming with anger.

Damian shoved the man away from me while Rhea grabbed hold of my wrist and dragged me out to the car. The car ride back to the house was insanely tense and silent.

*Back at the house

"Bullshit! You weren't even doing anything about it! You just let him put his hands all over you!" Rhea shouted back.

"That's not true! Guys? You saw me trying to get away, right?!" I attempted to get backup from the boys, but to no avail, they looked equally unhappy.

Damian threw his keys and wallet down on a side table before looking over at me with a glare. "Don't try and act dumb. We all saw what you were doing." His tone gave it away that he wasn't on my side.

"But I wasn't doing anything! I was trying to get him off of me!" I was exasperated at this point.

"We won't tolerate lying, and we definitely won't tolerate cheating. Either admit what you were up to and explain yourself, or find somewhere else to stay tonight." Finn sighed in disappointment and crossed his arms, waiting for my response.

My jaw dropped at his ultimatum. "What? You can't be serious-"

"Dead serious. You heard the man. Make your choice." Rhea cut me off and seeped her words with poison. I looked at them all, trying to determine if they were being literal. They definitely were. I shook my head in frustration, snatched up my bag, and stormed out the front door. I don't know if Liv is back from the club yet, but I'll wait on her front porch until she is...

Liv had actually gotten home only five minutes before I arrived at her place, and she immediately brought me inside and had me tell her all about the drama that just ensued. To say she was angry was an understatement. She was completely dumbfounded at how they had treated me.

The feisty blonde sent a lengthy text message to the group members about how they were in the wrong, I would never do something like this, how blessed they are to have me, and then followed up with some threats if they didn't apologize. She insisted we have a fun sleepover to forget the fight, and I couldn't say no.

***next morning

A harsh pounding on the front door woke the both of us up and Liv hurried to go see who it was. I heard her mumbling before she quickly came back to me. "They're here." She gave me a look of reassurance and allowed me room to walk past her.

I took a deep breath before opening the front door.

"Hey. We need to talk." Rhea demanded and motioned for me to step outside. I obliged, closing the door behind me. She sighed and raked a hand through her dark hair. "Tell us the truth. Were you flirting with that guy?" She asked, her face wore an expectant expression.

"No! I told you guys that last night, but you didn't believe me!" I was quickly becoming defensive, ready to pick up the argument where it had left off.

"We believe you, honey. Liv sent us a long message and helped clear everything up." Damian stepped in. "We're sorry. You tried to tell us and we wouldn't listen to you. It's our fault." He apologized.

I took a moment to think to myself, contemplating how easily my forgiveness should be handed out. I mean, they kicked me out of the house without even letting me explain.

"So," Finn interrupted my thoughts. "Are we forgiven, love? You ready to come home?"

I let out a huff. "I'm not happy about the situation and how I was treated last night, but I'm content for now. I can't forgive you all so easily right now. My feelings are hurt and I don't really feel like everything's okay yet. I just think we still need to talk about it a bit more when we get home?" I looked around to gauge their expressions.

"Sounds fair to me." Dom smiled.

I grabbed my stuff from inside Liv's house and headed to the car. While Damian loaded my bag into the trunk, Rhea gazed at me in the rearview mirror.

"Baby..." Her eyes flicked away, instead turning her body to face me. "Are we gonna be okay?" She motioned between us and then to the boys outside of the car.

I nodded with a small smile. "We'll be okay, Mami. Promise." Seeing relief flash in her eyes, I quickly kissed her cheek. "Everything will be perfectly okay."

[pinazee]

There might be blood

I had to look up the title because i didnt understand the connection to the episodes subject matter. So for anyone curious, its based on the 2007 movie There Will be Blood which is about the california oil boom.

Another episode thats just okay to me imo. But it has some good moments

First, another sibling is in the mix and she just so happens to be Jane Fucking Lynch which is pretty neat. I love the instant sibling rivalry we get. Like professionalism is instantly thrown out the door.

Also, im just now realizing, Shawns the only one who doesn’t have a sibling. Now you could argue Gus is like a brother to him, but like, it would be so interesting to see Shawn have to be responsible for a little sibling, or possibly have an older sibling who doesn’t quite have the gift feel overlooked when henry started teaching Shawn. Could you imagine all the fun dynamics and drama that would’ve ensued?? Like, how would that have affected his relationship with gus too- sorry, my thoughts spiraled.

He literally usues gus like siri

Theres an ongoing theme of Lassie loving strong, opinionated, or downright bossy women and i love that for him.

It’s time to talk about Chief Karen Vick. Specifically why she hires a psychic. At the very beginning, we learn that she knew Henry, and im guessing because she didn’t know shawn its because she joined the precinct in his teen years like Lassiter (since we also know he retires shortly after). or maybe she was at the academy when he did a lecture. I don’t believe its ever discussed how well she knew him, but it was certainly enough to call him and have him vouch for Shawn. It was enough to trust his word at least, whether it was based on simply knowing Henry’s talent, or because she actually knew him as a person, or maybe just that he was a respected cop.

This is all to say, i don’t think chief vick actually believes he’s psychic or ever did. Look at how she reacts when he tries to “divine” something about her.

Which means, Chief Vick is not above skirting around the law to catch the bad guy. After all, if she knows Shawns not psychic, then shes willingly letting this loose cannon into her crime scenes. And this kind of ties in with another point i have, which is that i don’t think she was actually getting Henry to vouch for his abilities at all, I think she was asking Henry what kind of a man Shawn was. She witnessed his skill with the Mccallum murder and saw all the calls he put in that helped solve other crimes, but she also has the arrest record, and the ever changing address. She needs to know if Shawn is someone she can trust.

So, she knows hes a fake, and likely knows how he’s gathering information (i Have to wonder if there was a case she had where justice was not met because of a law she wasn’t allowed to go around, like she knew someone was the killer but didn’t have any evidence to get a warrant and they got away). But having Shawn helps bypass the red tape because he can literally point them in the direction of evidence and claim he divined it.

Chief Vick is not someone to believe in mystics, she is, in fact, a rogue, someone getting to the truth by any means necessary while also keeping her hands clean. She has to play into the facade just as much as Shawn. It makes me wonder what kind of a cop she was, especially since we see how competitive she was. (and im also realizing that i dont think we ever saw her detective skills? Shes always been boss lady)

The moment with shawn and chief vick was really sweet, though. This is why i can rewatch psych as much as i do. They take time out of the episode to have small moments of real connection where we see that these characters actually care about each other.

As for the bad guy…idk i liked the showdown and shawn talking her down because of how it speaks to his character, but they really muddled her own character. They built her up as this like calculating, intelligent, and fed-up-with-misogyny woman and then at the end she not only falls for Shawns speech but starts crying when shes caught. Like, imo, she probably would have just shot shawn, or would have avoided that whole situation to begin with by not panicking in the first place. Shawn though, clearly hates guns, so i wonder whats up with that.

P.S

Gus’s smelling bobbing

And look how much fun our young dudes are having! What a bunch of cuties :)