#the game has its ups and downs but its still a blast

[parab0mb]

The Vermilion Wasteland Experience.

I said I was gonna wait on revisiting Crosscode but I lied! (I have zero impulse control).

[sulfursmells]

Level Up

BBBBRRRRPPPTPTTTTTTT

A loud trumpet blast hits your face, an eggy smell making its way up your nose. A bet, it was a dumb bet that I didn’t think I could lose but here I am. A few inches from Brett’s bubble butt constantly blasting my face. Singeing my nose hair and blowing back my hair. Fogging up my glasses only for the spray of sweat glistening down his cheeks clearing the fog.

“Alright boys here comes another one” Brett says to his gaming buds on the mic.

Ppprrrttt

“Oh that one was smaller than I thought. Lucky y… “ A loud gurgle interrupted a Brett as a devilish grin grew on his face. You couldn’t see his face but you were shaking in fear of what was to come. “Guess your luck has just run out. Listen to this one boys” Brett says. The smell hitting you before you even hear the blast begin.

First it was dry and loud, akin to an orchestra loud and overpowering. A horrid smell but nothing you’re not already used to. After a two minute uproar it was still going strong but got quoted and wetter spraying your face with sweat. The air quality only getting worse as the smell of a barn begins sweeping throughout the room.

“You bro it sounds sick. Be happy y’all aren’t here!” Brett says laughing with each breath.

At minute five you thought it was over quiet apart from Brett’s laughter and then a sight of relief broke his laughter. A vile smell the worst thing you’ve ever smelled entered your nose. You kept gagging not being able to breathe until everything went dark. Brett still ripping for another minute before realizing he couldn’t feel your breath hitting his cheeks anymore.

“Oh look like he passed out. Well that doesn’t mean I stop”

[loves0phelia]

Saturday Meetings

Summery: When Eddie learns Y/N has a similar music taste as him everything change.

Words: 2.3k

Warnings: Bullying, fighting, grammar mistakes.

Eddie Munson was always seen as a freak ever since he entered highschool. The basketball team, cheerleaders, party kids and even the smart kids thought he was a satanist for listening to metal music and wearing ripped jeans accompanied with chains. The permanent ink that decorated his skin did not help his case either. 

High school was a nuisance for Eddie. The only thing that motivated him was the Hell Fire club. A club where kids from juniors to seniors played dungeons and dragons.

For the members, this game meant the world, it was packed with excitement and fun. Yet, for others, it served as a tool for bullying.

During lunch you sat multiple tables away from him. You were dressed in the usual green, white and yellow cheerleading uniform the school provided, your hair pulled back into a neatly curled ponytail, you blended in with the rest of the team. But deep down, you were different. You had a passion for the same things as Eddie Munson. It was a part of you no one else could ever know.

Your Metalica, Black Sabbath and AC/DC cassette were tucked away underneath Madonna and tears for tears inside your backpack. You thought how Eddie was freely listening to the music you loved so dearly while you couldn't. 

Your head turned over your shoulder and you watched as he talked. His arms were flying around as he expressed himself. His big and extraverted gestures made you giggle. Nobody at your table was this extravagant. Seeing someone like him felt refreshing. You always wondered what it was like having spontaneous conversation was like. At your table it was like a routine. Sport, girls/boys, parties, repeat.

“What are you looking at?" Jason's voice broke your concentration, prompting you to snap your head back to face him. He was sitting directly across from you at the cafeteria table.

"Oh, it's nothing," you attempted to brush him off, but the concern in everyone’s faces at your table made it impossible to avoid.

“You sure? Looks like you were looking at Munson” The judgment in his voice was clear. It was like mentioning his name burned his tongue.

"I, um, I was just... he looks weird, doesn't he?" you stammered, trying to save the situation. His brow furrowed as he glanced between you and him. The concern dissolved from his face as he chuckled and nodded in agreement with your previous statement. With a sigh of relief, your tense shoulders relaxed, and your racing heart gradually slowed its pace.

Your anxious gaze met Chrissy's, Jason's girlfriend, and she responded with a gentle smile. In that moment, her glance was reassuring, silently letting you know that everything was okay. 

…

That night, you layed in bed, the sound of "Thunderstruck" blasting through your Walkman, was drowning out the world around you as you stared up at the ceiling, thoughts filled your mind, wondering how different life could be if you were surrounded by people who truly understood you, rather than pretending to fit in where you clearly didn't belong.

“Y/n!” Your heart dropped when you barely heard your name over the music. You threw The headphones off and you saw your mom in the doorway.

“What is it mom?” You asked and sat up.

"I've been calling that dinner's ready for the past 10 minutes. Are you still listening to that crazy music?" she sighed, rolling her eyes as the sound echoed from the headphones now abandoned beside you.

“Come downstairs, now” she scolded and you followed her down to the kitchen where once again you talked about school, boys and sports instead of something that really interested you.

…

The next morning, the thought of staying home was tempting. Everything seemed to conspire against you, discouraging any motivation to face another day of repeating the same exact routine as the day before.

But you knew your parents would not want you to stay home.

As the school bus pulled up in front of your house, you found yourself once again lost in your music, the volume cranked up high enough to fill your ears but low enough to keep the people around you from hearing it..

When it arrived at its destination people rushed to get out of the yellow vehicle. You, on the other hand, walked slowly deadring the moment you will have to enter class.

As you turned the corner in the main hallway, you collided with someone so hard that the Walkman's headphones slipped off your head and began to fall to the ground. The cord connecting the headphones to the cassette player on your waist tugged, causing it to tumble to the floor as well making the Metallica cassette spill out onto the ground.

“Oh I'm sorry sweetheart” your heart pounds against your chest when you finally recognized the boy you bumped into.

“Let me get that for you- Metalica?” He examined the cassette as if he couldn't believe his eyes.

“You really listen to that?” his smirk is inevitable.

“No. It's- uh, for my brother” You snatched the cassette from his hand.

“You don't even have a brother” He laughed when he caught your lie.

“How would you know that?” 

"We've been in the same classes for two years, Y/N." The sound of your name rolling off his tongue sends a shiver down your spine.

In this moment you noticed how Andy and two other boys from the basketball team looked at you and Eddie as they passed.

In a hurry you grabbed his hand and tugged him away into the nearest janitor closet.

"You know, you could've asked me out first before dragging me in here, but I guess I'll give you points for spontaneity," he says with a smirk, his confidence made you roll your eyes and slap his forearm.

“You cannot tell anyone that you saw this alright?” You shoved the cassette into his face. ”Jason would ruin my life and probably find a way to kick me out of the team because he thinks it's… it’s satanic” Eddie sighed harshly.

“Fine. But-”

“No buts!” 

“BUT you have to help me with O'donnell's test for next month” you considered it for a moment. If anyone saw you with him they would probably do worse then kick you off the team. But you didn't have a choice.

“Fine but you come to my place on Saturday nights, and you have to come through my window.”

“Exciting, romantic, I like it”

“This is not romantic!” and just at this very moment you noticed how tight the closet was. How close your bodies were. “I- Am going to get out and you have to wait 5 minutes before you do, understood?” 

“Understood, maam” he nodded and quickly you came out of the closet. Fresh air immediately brushed on you.

The rest of the week went smoothly, you sneaked glances at him every now and then but nothing was abnormal. During the integrality of Saturday you were impatient for the moment eddie would come knocking on your window. And when he did you were listening to one of your many vinyls, as you opened the window and welcomed him in.

“Holy shit” he whispered as he took in your room. In his head it would have been filled with pinks and purples, neat and well organized. But there were vinyls of his favorite bands on the wall next to posters and a concert ticket framed in a black picture frame. You had books scattered on your desk that he had also read, and 5 pairs of different colors converse on the floor.

“You are full of surprises”  He had said and you just ignored the compliment and went 

straight to studying.

On the following Saturday night, Eddie returned without fail, and you both studied again. As the hours passed, midnight approached and you were both tired and yawning.

“I should go,” He said as he started gathering his notebooks and his backpack.

"Same time next Saturday?" you inquired as Eddie made his way halfway out of your window.

He nodded, a sweet smile lighting up his face, making your stomach erupt with butterflies.  Every Saturday preceding the test, unfolded the same way. Sometimes you found yourselves watching movies, almost cuddling, his arm draped around your shoulder, and occasionally you allowed your head to rest on him.

Friday, the day before your last study session before the math test, was a game day. You knew Eddie and his club had a reunion the same day but you still invited him to come watch your cheerleading routine along with his friends.

Surprise flickered across your face as you spotted him in the stands just before the end of the game. His unexpected presence threatened to throw you off balance, but you swiftly regained your focus.

After the game, as the team was heading back to the locker room, Jason spotted Eddie lagging behind waiting for you.

"Waiting for the girls to come out, perv?” Jason sneered, his minions laughing along with him.

Eddie tried to brush off the insults, but Jason's words cut deep. Just as Jason was about to deliver another cutting remark, you came out of the changing room holding your sport bag.

you looked between them for a second in silence. Eddie looked at you and a lightbulb lightened up on Jason’s head.

“Oh I see what's going on here. Munson’s got a crush on y/n!” His loud tone made everyone grow quiet. Students nearby started surrounding them, their eyes darting between Jason and Eddie. Eddie's cheeks burned with humiliation as he struggled to find the courage to respond

“Sorry to break it to you but a cheerleader would never go for a freak like you” With a smirk on his face, Jason draped his arm around you in a cocky way. It was in no way near as comforting as Eddie's embrace.

“Fuck off, Carver” you pushed him off your body. His smirk faltered for a moment as he received the unexpected rejection, but he quickly regained his composure, scoffing at Y/N's boldness. 

"Really, y/n? You're into Munson now? I didn't think you would go that slow but you've always been a slut” he shrugged and some people around you snickered and some other gasped

Jason's menacing presence loomed over you. You stood frozen after the words came out of his mouth. Eddie stepped forward, his protective instincts kicking into overdrive as he positioned himself between you and him.

Eddie hesitated before striking a punch right into his jaw. Jason’s head flew to the right and he stumbled backwards. Everyone gasped loudly.

With a fierce growl, Jason lunged forward, aiming a wild swing at Eddie's nose. But he was quicker. With fast reflexes, Eddie ducked under his punch and returned one to Jason’s gut, earning a grunt of pain.

The fight was on. Fists flew as Eddie and Jason traded blows. The students who were gathered around cheers added to the chaotic atmosphere.

“Stop!” You screamed but they were blinded by rage and humiliation.

Despite Jason’s size and strength, Eddie held his ground. With each blow, he could feel the adrenaline coursing through his veins.

The echoes of grunts, cheers and strikes alarmed various teachers and when they saw the scene, they were both separated. The boys were panting and Jason was quick to put the blame on Eddie.

He looked at you desperately before walking into the crowd of students to storm out of the school ignoring the calls of a teacher demanding him to stay and explain himself.

You dropped your sport bag with your uniform inside and ran after him. 

“Eddie, wait” Once outside you saw him about to enter his van. Your calls stopped him and he turned to face you. You didn't fail to notice the large bruise on his cheekbone already forming.

“Eds- im so sorry” he shook his head dismissing your apology.

"It wasn't your fault, Y/N," He reassured you softly, and in a swift movement, you wrapped your arms around his chest. At first, surprise made him motionless, but after a few moments, he returned the embrace, his arms enveloping you in a tight hug.

“Y/n” A much softer voice called out behind you. You and Eddie both looked toward it and Chrissy was standing there holding your bag.

“This is yours. Right?” She extended her arm.

“You can keep it Chrissy… my uniform is in it, now that Jason knows, nobody will want me on the team” 

“I want you on the team, and I'm the captain” she pushed the bag inside your arms. “If someone has a problem with your relationship with Eddie, they will be kicked off the team.”

“Were not in a-” Eddie started with a shy tone.

“Thanks Chrissy” you hugged her tightly before saying your goodbyes.

“Bye Eddie. See you monday y/n, love you”

“Are we in a relationship?” His question is genuine and full of curiosity.

“I- uhm, do you want to be?” 

“Hell yeah I want to. The whole studying shit was just an excuse to spend time with you!” A goofy smile was plastered on his face.

“What?!” 

“Do you actually think I, Eddie Munson, would study willingly?” He giggled. 

"I can't believe you," you said between giggles, resting your head on his chest as laughter bubbled up between you both.

With a hesitant yet determined step forward, Eddie closed the distance between you, his hand reached out to gently cup your cheek. Your breath caught in your throat as you felt the warmth of Eddie's touch, a shiver of anticipation traveled your body. Eddie leaned in, his lips hovering just inches from yours.

And then, with a tender brush of his lips against yours, Eddie closed the gap, sealing your lips with a soft kiss. It was a kiss filled with all the pent-up longing and desire that had been building between you.

And when you  finally pulled away, your lips tingled with the lingering sensation of his kiss, the fight long forgotten. You knew that this was just the beginning of yours and his journey together—a journey filled with passion, love, and endless possibilities.

[evie-sturns]

no one has to know what we do - Chris Sturniolo

summary: ever since you met the triplets in 3rd grade, youve had been closest with chris. you've never admitted it to anyone but you've been madly inlove with him for a few years now. the triplets 20th birthday comes around, they celebrate by inviting the friend group to their house for the weekend, what happens when you and chris are left alone in his bedroom, will things stay the same, or will you two be forced to sneak around.

contains: smut, fwb!chris, sneaking around friends, swearing, fluff.

------------------┌── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──┐-----------———-

♫.. no one has to know what we do, his hands are in my hair, his clothes are in my room..♫

I've known the triplets since i could walk, marylou and my mom met in highschool so i've grown up around the nick matt and chris my whole life. ive always been closest with chirs,

but i hate to admit the fact that i've been thinking about him differently, a lot differently. i've never though about matt in that way though, even though they're practically the same. it's something about chris's hair, i've always wondered how my fingers would feel laced through his brown locks while he rests between my thighs.

6:39pm, friday night.

i push open the sturniolos front door to find nick, chris, matt, madi, nate, and several other friends from highschool, hannah, grace and yolanda, leaning on the counter, all laughing with eachother.

''hey!!" chris says with a wide grin, running up to me and wrapping his arms around me. "chrisss" i smile back at him.

this weekend is the sturniolos birthday, they've invited madi, me, nathan, and 3 other friends round for friday night, saturday and sunday, for those three nights chris and i are sharing a room, alone.

he grabs my small tote brag i brought and chucks it into the spare room. i walk into the kitchen and greet everyone else, instantly getting dragged by nick into the living room.

"we're watching the grinch." madi declares, "fuck no! its the middle of fucking august" nick yells back, nate chimes in, adding something to the debate.

before i can open my mouth i feel a cold hand grab my arm, its chris.

my head swings around, my hair hitting his neck. "c'mon" chris says, taking me over to the couch and throwing himself down and patting the spot next to him. i flop next to him, cuddling close to his side as everybody else piles down, "so we're watching the grinch?" madi says with a cheeky smile, "no." nick instantly replies, switching the tv on.

the intro song to rapunzel blasts through the small room, a loud cheer comes from the 7 other people around chris and i.

i'm basically frozen, my mouth won't move and i can feel my heart pounding out of my chest. sure, chris and i have been friends forever but god hes been so physical the past few weeks its been hard to hold myself together.

"you okay?" chris whispers down into my hair.

"yeah!" i chirp back

"you seem nervous"

"im not."

im 90% sure he knows.

"im sorry this movie is ASS." nate says, interrupting the movie. "gotta say, i do kinda agree with you." madi replies, "i told you the grinch was better!" she says, earning a boo from nick.

nick leans over to me, "go get a boardgame from chris's room cause these fuck heads aren't happy with rapunzel." he tutts.

i heave myself up off the couch, "chris where do you keep your array of boardgames" i scoff, shaking my head with a smile. "first of all i dont have 50 boardgames i play" he laughs as he walks over to me.

i walk upstairs towards chris's room, him closley behind me still yapping about the fact hes not that big of a fan of board games.

i open the large wooden door to chris's room, the familiar sight filling my vision.

chris shuts the door behind us, i don't question it, he probably just wants to keep his room air conditioned. i look back at him,

"so where are the-" i start but get interrupted by chris's hand on my jaw, he looks at my lips then my eyes, then my lips before slamming his onto mine.

i kiss him back. of course i do? i've practically dreamt about this moment since i was 16.

"i know i make you nervous y/n" he rasps into my lips, his second hand grabbing my cheek as he walks us back, our lips still connected as my back hits the wall, pinning me down slightly with his mouth.

he pulls away for a second, scanning my face for a readable expression. "chris" i breathe out, running my hand through my hair.

"im sorry, im so fucking sorry i shouldnt've done that-" he starts, taking a step back, "chris." i interrupt him, reconnecting our lips.

"you make me nervous, really fucking nervous." i say into his lips, his hand finds its way to the back of my head, his fingers intertwined in my hair.

suddenly the door to his bedroom rattles, i instantly pull away, my head spinning round to look at the door which is being pushed open/

madi, matt, nick and 3 of our other friends walk in, all laughing with each other about god knows what, i scramble towards the closet, looking for any board game i can.

i pull out the despicable me version of 'game of life' which has several minions on the front. a small laugh exits my mouth before i join the small circle which has formed on the floor with our friends.

"y/n...." matt says with a laugh, grabbing the board game off me "despicable me?" hannah says with a scoff

"im sorry! chris doesn't have the collection of board games i expected!" i tease back.

"it'll be okay!" grace says, a somewhat optimistic smile painted across her face.

chris joins the circle of friends on the floor, sitting down opposite me. hes got a small panicked expression, his lips red and raw, his cheeks a deep pink. his eyes are fixed on mine.

"so whos gonna roll first?" nick chuckles.

(8:45pm)

madi won the boardgame about 30 minutes ago, i've been laying on the floor of chris's room with all of our friends, execept for chris.

he disappeared while everyone was celebratings madis 'epic' win.

"we've gotta play truth or dare.." yolanda says, "like the corny middle school shit you know?"

nick claps his hands with a goofy grin, followed by matt rolling his eyes but later agreeing.

"nick, truth or dare" grace laughs,

i stand up off the floor, walking out of chris's room while everyones distracted watching nick try to do a head stand.

the wooden stairs creak as i jog down them, i swing open the back door and im met with chris. he's sitting on the outdoor bench, scrolling aimlessly through his phone.

his head shoots up to look at me as i walk over to the bench, sitting under it.

"hey!" he says smiling, then putting his phone down on the armrest.

"how was despicable me game of life?" chris nudges me in the arm, a stupid smile on his pink lips.

"shut up!" i scoff, flicking his arm softly.

a silence fills the air, only sounds of distant cars vaguely humming in the background. chris runs a hand through his brunette hair, his long fingers peeking through the strands of his hair.

"um-" chris clears his throat.

"chris.." i whisper i start, then get off by his voice

"i dont think i'm ready for a relationship."

my heart sinks.

i didnt even say i liked him like that to his face?

"come with me." he declares, standing up abruptly grabbing my hand and pulling me inside.

everyone's hanging out in the living room, nobodys really paying attention to rapunzel anymore. nicks head shoots up "y/n come over!!" he smiles at me.

"we're gonna go get ready for bed, super tired." chris speaks for me. i run over to nick, giving him and matt a goodnight hug before returning to chris. he grabs my hand firmly then pulls me upstairs into his room, slamming the door shut behind us

my heart thumps as chris looks down at me, his hand reaches out for my chin, his other hand firmly gripping my waist as his fingertips lightly squeeze my waist. i stare at his lips, he stares at mine before colliding them for the second time today.

without another word his shirt is across the room, his necklace resting on his chest. my shirt follows, ending up somewhere around the room. "chris" i moan lightly into his lips as his hand snakes round to my back, unclasping my bra and letting it fall to the floor.

he frantically rips off his sweatpants, i shimmy my shorts down my legs.

the air surrounding us grows hot as i fall back onto his bed, "chris- we can't, nick always tells me that he'd kill me if i even though about his brothers sexually, i mean-" i ramble, but chris cuts me off.

"no one has to know what we do." he whispers, his hands intertwined in my hair.

my eyes switch from chris, to the amount of our clothes scattered across his room, the same room chris and i grew up in.

i nod "okay." a smile creeps across my face.

chris pulls off my panties, throwing them ontop of his desk. he pauses for a second, his eyes exploring every inch of my body. "oh my god." he mutters, "you okay?" he asks quickly while he pulls down his boxers, his hard length springing out. his dick is strangely perfect, "yeah, more than okay.." i whisper, my eyes fixed on his cock.

he nods "you've done.. this before right?" chris laughs slightly. "yeah- yeah" i giggle. "you're so pretty." he says, stroking his length while his eyes stare at my exposed body.

"ready?" he asks, his tip lightly pressing against my hole.

i'm not even fully processing whats happening right now, the boy i've secretly been practically inlove with for a few years is now about to fuck me.

"very." i tease, gripping the sheets for support. he pushes into me, a low whimper escaping his mouth "squeezing me so well." he stutters, bottoming out in me.

i let out a string of moans as i arch my back off the bed "so good, doing so good." he says, his thrusts rapidly increasing in pace and intensity. his fingers lace into my hair, tugging lightly but not painfully.

i let out a desperate groan "chris- fuck!"

he reaches a hand down and presses on my lower stomach, feeling how deep he is inside of me. "you feel me?" he says in between thrusts.

I squeeze my eyes shut, my vision fogged.

"i said you feel me?" he mumbles, his hair flopping with each time his tip hits my cervix.

"yes! yes-" i blurt out,

chris grabs my throat, pinning me down to the bed.

my eyes open in shock, a few short breaths exiting my mouth.

"finish, finish for me."

and with those words i do, i clench around him and release my built up orgasm. chris instantly lets go of my throat being careful not to push me too hard, he pulls out, painting my stomach with warm streaks of white.

"fuck...." he groans, throwing his head back.

i catch my breath as chris collapses next to me, he pulls me ontop of his body as he strokes my hair.

"you did so well." he whispers into my hair.

after a good 10 minutes of laying in silence i break it,

"um chris.."

"yes?" he replies.

"what are we.. now."

another silence fills the room "i dont know." he says, a bit of guilt in his voice.

he starts "i mean if you give me a few weeks we can put a label on us or we could just stay friends and forget this happened but i dont know if i want that because i really enjoyed this but i mean we could be friends with benefits-"

i interuppt his rambles "friends with benefits!?" i say with a small smile.

"if you want, could be fun like sneaking around.."

i nod frantically at chris's words "i'd like that."

-

(saturday 5pm)

after yesterday nights unexpected encounter chris and i have kept our promise, this whole day everyones been hanging out at the pool but currently we're in the bathroom, and hes fully inside of me.

"fuck-" he mumbles, slamming into me as i sit on the countertop. my bikini bottoms are pulled to the side as he pounds into me repeatedly, "close." he warns.

i clench around him, the knot in my stomach snapping as i release around his length with a scream of his name. he pulls out, orgasming on my thighs.

"you okay?" he asks, panting as he wipes my thigh with his hand.

i collide our lips together "yeah." i mumble into his mouth.

a few seconds pass before we pull away, he helps me down off the countertop as i catch my balance.

he grabs my hand and unlocks the bathroom door, he guides us both back to the pool, rejoining all our friends like we weren't fucking each other 3 minutes ago.

i lay down by the poolside, my legs shaking slightly from the intensity of the past events.

chris sits down next to me "you got a little something." he whispers with a laugh, quickly reaching down and wiping my thigh where we missed a spot.

(1 month later)

a month ago today chris and i were sneaking around at his 20th birthday party, for the past 4 weeks we've been meeting up at each other's houses, hooking up every time we get the chance. we didnt speak about anything, i think hes happy staying friends with benefits even though i want more, ive needed more for 3 years.

11:32pm

i roll over in bed, checking my phone one last time before i fall asleep. suddenly my phone frantically vibrates,

its chris?

i pick up the phone "chris its late..." i groan into the phone.

"i need to talk to you, can i come over.. please?" he asks innocently, "okay if you want to just talk, im so tired."

i hang up, after a couple minutes i hear the rumble of chriss car in my driveway, followed by his footsteps upstairs. he swings open the door to my room "hey!" he says nervously, jumping into bed beside me. "you alright?" i ask, holding his hand.

he stays silent for a few seconds, before starting.

"i think im in love with you?" he blurts out.

"you- what?" i repeat, confusion painted in my voice.

"i know, but for the past few.. years? ive liked you- alot.. and i dont just want you to be my fuck buddy anymore, i want to be more."

he takes a deep breath, i stay silent in shock.

"i feel the absolute exact same Christopher." i say, looking over at him.

"do you wanna.. make things official." he asks quietly.

i roll over ontop of him, smothering him in kisses "yes!" i laugh, wrapping my arms around him. relief washes over his face.

we lay still for a few minutes, "can i stay the night?" he asks with a laugh, "please do." i reply, my eyes fluttering shut.

we lay in silence for a few minutes, but a small laugh exits his mouth.

"yeah?" i smile into his chest.

"nothing it was just painfully obvious i was head over heels for you, how did you not guess" he laughs

"chris, im sorry but i was terrified to make a move purely because of how it wasnt obvious." i say, planting the 84th kiss of the night on his face.

----------------------------

[fukashiin]

high school sweethearts au

— w. riddle, ace, leona, jack, octatrio (collectively), jamil, vil, rook, silver, malleus

⤷ oh dear diary, i met a boy, he made my dull heart light up with joy.

a/n: a valentine's day special!! i enjoyed writing this sm<33

RIDDLE ROSEHEARTS AS

⤷ THE STUDENT LIBRARIAN !

- the student who volunteered for library duties when no one else would. he mostly works behind the counter with his eyes glued to the screen of his computer—looking for the names of those who had overdue books to return. an esteemed honour student at the same time, the envious mixture of methodical and dutiful that makes the role of a student librarian fit him like a glove.

- he mostly reads at his own pace—a fascinating volume of historical topics covered through the years. rusted evidence that he likes to give his own insights on at the tip of his fingers. sometimes people catch him wondering a bit too far, as his eyes stray off to certain page for way too long.

- despite his free time, he still takes care of his own duties that needs to be carried out, from arranging books back to their rightful shelves, tidying up used tables of its multi-coloured eraser shavings and lost pencils that he hands up to the lost-and-found.

YOUR DYNAMIC

- you often stop by the library for self-revision, a thick stack of textbooks that sit pretty at the side of your table as you have your own necessities. you don’t have much to do after this particular study session, so you plan to head back to your own dorm after reliving your memory of the chapters the teachers have went through with you in class today.

- strangely, unknowingly—the table you sit at is always empty. always reserved for a certain someone. that’s when your relationship with riddle started to bloom.

- any time he spots you at the corner of his eye once you enter the air-conditioned space, he throws a small smile your way and elegantly places the book he was reading down to stroll to your side to help you carry your bag that you were sure was about to dislocate your shoulder. 

- he sits by your side whenever you needed help, some topics just simply played a baffling game of chess with your head that you dread to the core. but he’s more than happy to help one way or another. either to point out to you specific key words, gently grabbing the highlighter out of your grasp, initiating eye contact with you with the textbook closed to help you memorise important points for so long the rate of his heartbeat starts to speed up—

- the air between you two really alleviates your burden and the packed schedule you have to attend to on a daily basis. with school is a bucket of workload that’s dumped onto you. with riddle, is a soft feeling. you don’t have to worry about your planned itineraries for the day and you can be yourself for a while.

he’s full comfort, a swift reminder of those drizzly cinnabuns you two go for a bite for when classes are over for the day. 

- it’s no surprise he has his plate full with library duties either. so to pay him back, you offer him to head for a bookstore somewhere outside the campus, assuring him that you’ll deal with things when his mom intervenes for his “unthinkable” behaviour. in return, he’ll purchase as many books for you as want. hard covers, too.

ACE TRAPPOLA AS

⤷ THE PLAYER ON THE BASKETBALL TEAM !

- it’s as in-character as you think it is. you’ve lost count of the number of times he’s pointed a conspicuous finger at you when you’re sitting on the bleachers, yelling out your name and promising he’ll score a shot for you! much to his disappointment (and surprise, for some reason), the ball just bounces right off the hoop and crashes into another player on the team.

- the indoor sports hall is a huge advantage for him since it lets him connect his phone to the bluetooth speakers, letting him blast out his music of choice that consists of endless tracks from nba youngboy and eminem when the coaches were absent and the company could carry on with free training. 

- his classmates adore him, but the teachers hold their breath in at the thought of having him in their class. a truly slothful student to some extent—but is able to ace every test given out. higher authorities wanted to believe their eyes were playing a trick on them when they take a glance at his report card that contained a full, gleaming row of straight A’s.

- cheeky at heart and playfully flirts with whoever he wants just for the fun of it, not to get their contact number just to ghost them later on like he did with a past lover. he’s learned his mistake and he’s willing to do better, both academically and athletically. but he supposes he could get used to the popularity for a while.

YOUR DYNAMIC 

- resists the urge to dropkick his teammates whenever they send out mischievous whistles his direction when they see you with him. he’s just asking for your notes! nothing else in mind like scrawling his phone number down on some lined-paper and slipping it into the back of your notebook in hopes that you notice and send out a few messages to him when you’re back at your place (and develop into something more...?)

- the type of person who didn’t believe in young love at first before he met you. now, you two make small trips to the school cafeteria to purchase your favourite smoothies when practise was stopped to a 5 minute break. smoothly sweet talks his way out of paying—but doesn’t see your kindness to be taken control over. In return, he tells you the answers for the upcoming test he was able to get his hands on, whether you’re going to use them or not.

- denies (anticipated) accusations that you and him were together in an “uncool” manner, according to him. it’s even worse when you’re present, there to see his face burst in pink and his speedy mannerisms, like telling you to “ignore them!” or shoving you into the nearest locker so his friends don’t catch a glimpse of you.

- sometimes his eyes stay on your face for way too long the atmosphere starts to contort into a weird, one-sided stare-off when it’s supposed to be your one-on-one study session with him. you take notice that he’s not looking at the tip of your pen that’s pointing to a specific part of his notes and threaten to poke his eyes out if he doesn’t focus. you could only giggle internally when he fumbles about and retracts his stare from your face.

- questions you if you’ve been in any past relationships, only to reject hearing your answer when he’s too afraid that he may be outshone in some way.

- but you reassure him that you haven’t, and you’re more than happy to enter into one with him. with that, you see him gleefully punch a fist into the air once he’s off on his way to tell his teammates about it, too in his thoughts that he forgets about the teasing he’s about to be bombarded with afterwards.

LEONA KINGSCHOLAR AS 

⤷ THE CLASS SLACKER !

- similar to his junior ace in some ways. petty, bored, but effortlessly gets the highest grade in the class. it’s no surprise that even the overachiever who sits behind him and sees his big, outstanding ‘100′ penned in red at the corner of his paper that easily outdoes their imperfect ‘98′, has to keep their tongue in to ward off the nasty feeling of shooting the rudest vulgarities out of their mouth.

- lessons in session automatically translates to “do whatever you want for the period”—no matter the subject he takes. he often gets caught folding paper origamis or writing down the most prankish notes just to crumble it up and toss it the teacher’s way.

hands a little too skillful has him crafting numberless spitballs that he uses as imaginary missiles to shoot into random people’s hair. the preppy boys can wave a sad goodbye to hair day when leona appears with a handmade launcher in the hallway.

- though with such a behaviour, leona somehow seems to make himself appear approachable from his short-formed responses and dismissive nods. but could anyone have ever guessed that he would act so mind-blowingly different with someone else?

YOUR DYNAMIC

-  if he ever catches your mood down in the dumps, he insists you to come with him to the cat cafe that holds many cuddly creatures to help aid the minds of those tireless students piled with projects to complete with mind-boggling deadlines. either he enjoys getting swarmed by the adorable army of kitties himself, or looks at you with the softest eyes thinking about how you strangely resemble them as you get lost in distant laughter when one of them decide to curl up in your lap.

- sneakily shares his stash of snacks that he managed to shove into his bag at the back of the class when the two of you were luckily placed together during seat arranging. each low-key pass of a sweet was complimented by his deep chuckle as he feels rewarded by the numerous suspicious stares that fly by both of your ways.

- nonchalantly terrifies any cheap intimidators when he catches you getting cornered. you wonder if his initial plan backfired and that he actually made them fall in love with him with his unfairly gorgeous face? (you don’t blame them)

- growls at whoever takes the chance to wake him up from his day-to-day naps, rolling his eyes at their dumbassery when it’s a whole different story when it comes to you. when you do it (with panicked warnings you got beforehand), leona takes a while to get familiar with the touch of your skin and swishes his tail from side to side when he recognises your oh-so sweet scent he cherishes to the moon and back. 

raises an eyebrow at you for being so brave to take the opportunity to wake him up, promising he’ll pay you back tenfold when in fact, he really, really hopes he can grow much more affectionate with you when time passes, until skin contact becomes a normal thing between the two of you.

JACK HOWL AS 

⤷ THE (ACTUALLY SMART) JOCK !

- people genuinely wonder in disbelief why he’s so taken aback by the number of students who swoon over him when they see him doing his daily sets of warm-ups in the gym by himself. his ear twitches in the slightest when he feels four—five, pairs of eyes burning right into his back.

- he’s a lone wolf to some extent- but that doesn’t mean he’ll drive away his friends who thrive to stretch right beside him, despite being a literal twig compared to jack. they’ll all do tons of sets together while emitting the roughest groans from their aching bodies until sweat is seeping ceaselessly out of their outfits.

unsurprisingly, jack is still up and full of stamina as he silently praises himself for not being as slow-minded as his friends since he changed into his p.e attire ahead of time. +10 health gained back for him.

- the coaches normally pick him out as the representative when international competitions are around the corner. with him representing the school, there’s definitely going to be headlines and news reports made about them! except when he actually wins it isn’t. people are seen firing bountiful praises online at jack for his athleticism for a 16 year old, in awe at how he always manages to place first.

- is more than happy to help anyone out when activities take a wrong turn and result in them being injured. whether if it’s being in a wheelchair or in crutches, he takes the opportunity to bring them to their destination on time.

YOUR DYNAMIC

- his eyes immediately dart to you when the teacher announces for everyone to form a pair for pre-activity stretching. he takes the lead to call out what set of stretches to do and helps to adjust your posture or the angle of wherever your arm is pointing to. his firm hands coming in contact with your body invites a quick rush of blood to your cheeks, startled with the sudden proximity that came about. it doesn’t help the fact that his steady breath is on your skin, unaware of his swift movements that he didn’t bat an eye to (why is he like this?)

- when all the physical stuff is done for the day, he’ll give you a small nudge on the shoulder and tell you he’s going to get some water. what took you aback was when you thought he was getting it for himself—being as hardworking as he is, it only makes sense to reward himself for putting up with you and your incapability with some activities.

 - but instead, he brings back two bottles of water, briskly handing one over to you before he open his. he makes sure to assure you that you weren’t a problem at all, and that you deserve a restful break after all your physical exertion.

- not just crazy athletic but simultaneously smart as well! but when his classmates ask for his homework answers in dire need to not be caught by the teacher, he hits them with a “you should’ve done it at home” and gets up from his seat to hand in his work. you don’t know whether to laugh or feel bad for that person. the student then gawks at both you and jack when he lets you in on his answers instead.

- even when he has an enormous fanbase full of people who adore him and wish to talk to him more just for the sake of it, he always makes sure to come to you first, to check in on your health, both mentally and physically, to know that you’re healthy and ready for the day. 

OCTATRIO AS 

⤷ THE POPULAR GROUP !

- as the owners of a lounge that’s quite far from school grounds with quality dishes you’ll never find anywhere else and their dashing looks that shoot an arrow right through people’s lovestruck hearts, it’s no wonder that their popularity skyrockets through the roof when you found out that they go here. you’ve seen a few of the posts they share on magicam—and they’re the perfect definition of young, beautiful, and dirty rich.

- people would kill to watch them pass by in the hallways of the very school they’re in. this trio, with their alluring cologne and clad in neat, tidy clothing that doesn’t even necessarily have to be of the latest trends but still making them look amazing—ambling in the bustling halls? suddenly, lessons were called off for the day and there’s no homework due the day after. the trio quietly snicker to each other in the process.

- there’s definitely a fangroup about them. all they could be doing was to order lunch at the school cafeteria, and the group chat students made based on them would turn wild when floyd faces back to give a sly “cheese~” at the camera that was facing his way.

YOUR DYNAMIC

- unfairly spoils you to death as they give you special discounts at the lounge, telling you that it doesn’t matter whatever you order, their vip customer is always getting 10% off the price. if that’s too low—azul’s more than willing to give you a better benefit. proceeding your easy-earned discounts, jade suggests that they carefully plan out a drink based off of you and your personality, questionable intentions in mind as he proposes the idea to make it the most expensive drink on the menu too.

- absolutely loves to have you sit at their table during break, letting you in on their latest gossip. the amount of intel that they collected on their recent “customer” that created a scene at the lounge for not being open when it clearly had its working hours placed at the entry is rather concerning. floyd gives a shameless wink your way and tells you to not reveal this treasured piece of information. (gaslight gatekeep girlboss)

- weekend sleepovers at their place consists of them researching the finest ingredients and dishes to add to the menu and them serving up some steaming platter for you to try your taste buds on to give some feedback on it.  well, including a small competition to win your heart over as well.

- people are flabbergasted at the amount of attention you receive from these three. “jealous” wasn’t a word too far off to describe their feelings either, and it wasn’t any better. you’d sometimes wonder whether it was a good idea to become friends with this particular trio.

but you can rest assured that they’ll handle with any bad outcomes that dares to come about, and if it’s regarding their large fanbase—they have just the solution. nobody would say no to rushing to the lounge and being up to date with the latest release of their newest dish that you so nicely tried out for them.

- even as the three of them secretly try their best to win your heart over, they’ll also make sure to check with your boundaries and query you if they ever pass the line of comfort. if that so happens anytime, they’ll apologise by doing whatever you want free of charge! they dote on you a whole ton, and truthfully, relish in the time they get to spend with you.

JAMIL VIPER AS

⤷ THE SKATER BOY !

- the student who’s effortlessly charismatic because of his chill and dismissive attitude. the teachers are either pulling their hair out because of him or praising him for being early to class as they spot him waiting outside with him and his rusty ipod he just found that’s been collecting dust in his storage room. he vaguely remembers it as a gift given by a loved one, hence, why he keeps it safe wherever he goes.

- comes to class ROCKING those white vans like okay??? i see you???

- concerning him and school as a whole—it’s just as if he slithers right by his classmates’ attention like how a snake slithers through grass. he’s awfully sly and nimble, skipping class just to head out to the skate park that’s spray painted in graffiti all over by some infamous artists. he personally doesn’t care—it just adds to his presence of mind and how much fun he’s going to have. self-skating sessions are a fresh breather for him, indifferent to his number of absences.

- and don’t forget the secret rush of ego he gets when people stop and stare to watch him do his challenging tricks over the ramps and metal railings. it’s mesmerising how his hair flows so prettily in the wind and the golden glow of the sunset that highlights his features, like, how some people dramatise, an angel fallen from the blinding heavens. jamil rolls his eyes behind their backs once he’s finished his set of tricks.

YOUR DYNAMIC 

- honestly didn’t think of you much when you two first met, but now his heart, baggy clothes, and skateboard are all yours.

- when you spot him alone in the corner of the classroom when it’s a free period, a smile inevitably creeps up his face and he gives a relaxed wave as you come up and say hi to him. you’ve always been rather interested in his music taste and what was playing on those ipods of his, so when you do make it noticeable to him, he takes out the left side of his earphones and places it in your ear for you, fingers brushing the shell of your ears. you hope he didn’t feel how boiling-hot it was.

- daily stop-bys at the vending machine to talk about hot shit. you both agreed to pay for the drinks for the other on some days and do the same back. he finds such a leisure time so precious and, as much as he’s having double thoughts about it, he’d very rather much spend his alone time with you than in a class filled with students. especially when the class clown is present. eugh.

- he’s memorised your go-to drinks by now, and whenever you’re absent from school, he makes an effort to walk to your place to tend to you and hand over your favourite beverage once you’re up and better than ever.

- texts you in the dead of the night, asking if you’d want to head over to the skate park with him there to teach you some tricks he’s learnt on his own accord. agreeing was probably the best thing you’ve done all day, with the built-up pressure you get to release on your time with him as he helps you get rid of your muscle strains. he holds your body close, keeping you balanced on his skateboard as the late night breeze whisks through your clothes and the luminous shine that comes from the stars above makes him feel grateful for being here, with you. alone and together with no one to interfere.

VIL SCHOENHEIT AS

⤷ THE SCHOOL TRENDSETTER !

- as you may have guessed, the student who has the largest following in the entire student body. to help maintain his public image—he makes sure to arrive to school glammed up, with smooth and silky hair he applied the perfect fragrance of rosemary oil on to and his latest combination of outfits that’s bound to go viral both on magicam and in the school. he makes it a habit to bring along his miniature makeup pouch with him wherever he goes!

- instantly gets a whopping 100 views on his latest story he posted on his account about the most recent addition to the school cafeteria’s menu. he’s hyper-aware of his calorie intake, so he probably criticises it in the caption. “0/10. doesn’t make my ass fatter than it is now”

- sometimes has to leave mid-class to attend his monthly photoshoot session. there’s no doubt he’d be starting to pack his things during class and his classmates would already have an idea on where he’s about to go. the close circle of his friend group promises to notify him about the homework that’s going to be due soon, and he makes sure to blend them an incredibly tasteful smoothie he heard about not too long ago in thanks.

YOUR DYNAMIC

- it just had to be one of those days where you’re at your worst. vil can tell as much from your gloomy behaviour and sloppy appearance that does your figure no favours. though he lets out a disapproving click of the tongue, he places his hand on your shoulder, reassuring you that whatever you’re going through will come and go. 

- and, he hands out this one-of-a-kind opportunity to even purchase whatever apparel from the hottest brands that’s to your liking for you. who could ever ask for a better offer?

- if things are still dour, he lets you stay in his room for the night. the type of supportive friend (he hopes not for long?) to give you reassuring affirmations that whoever broke your heart doesn’t deserve you (and he does). he wants you to know that you’re ethereal just the way you are, and you shouldn’t downgrade yourself just because of somebody or something you can pass by. there’s some vinyls he keeps at a shelf at the side of his room,

if you want to play a song of your choice on the record player, he’s more than delighted to let you.

- when annual prom nights are going to take place a few days away, vil rings up his model agency to call upon another fashionista to help out with your outfit for the stirring night you can’t sit still for. converses with the right person they picked out and makes decisions set in stone, with the exact measurements that compliment your figure along with a flawless colour.

he takes the chance to do your makeup for you, and you can’t tell whether it’s because he’s taken familiarity with your visage or to just get his face closer to yours just to fluster you. you’ve taken a wild guess that it’s both.

- once prom is over and the crowd starts to clear out, vil books a cab back to his place so you two can have your well-deserved baths for as long as you want, accompanied by his endless supply of skincare products. he loves seeing you grow and blossom into a better person. he’ll make sure to do it alongside you, until he actually claims your heart.

ROOK HUNT AS

⤷ THE THEATRE KID !

- a cheerful soul who skips through the halls while humming a tune from one of the latest musicals he watched. his seemingly never-ending glee that lights the hallways up in an eye-blinding radiance is beyond people’s comprehension. rook, frankly, doesn’t mind the stares he gathers from such a spaced-out area, as long as he does his other theatre friends good in promoting the drama club.

- people mostly catch him hanging around in the auditorium, sitting with the other club members as they take out their practise on vocalisation and in depth emotion building. newcomers of the club deeply look up to him, as the most passionate member of the club where all the roles he’s taken on has made his heart soar above the clouds.

- one of the volunteers who helped in producing the script for the upcoming play the club is putting together. he advances in dramatising the scripts if they’re too flat in tone or feeling, even adding the most unnecessary dialogues of french, which the majority of the cast doesn’t even know a lick of. though, he makes a vow to them to teach it until they’re all absolutely wasted to the point where practise wouldn’t even be going anywhere.

- works hand in hand with vil behind the stage, who helps to sew up suitable costumes and applying the makeup for the cast in the makeover studio.

YOUR DYNAMIC

- it’s utterly embarrassing—but he vocalises ALL his poems and thoughts about you that he recited back at his place to prepare for the public audience. by audience, I mean everyone at the cafeteria.

he sings all of the praises he’s been holding in since the day he made mere eye contact with you while standing on an occupied table, most likely taken by the misfits. he sees it as his own individual stage and seizes the opportunity in his hands. you’re dying to go hide in the nearest restroom.

- encourages you to audition for the latest play his club is planning, (secretly) wanting you to take up the role that jointly has a special form of relationship with his! he gives an overly joyful “that’s up to the judges!” when you ask him who would be playing the other role. how many times has he made you uneasy again? (you don’t want to admit that you do enjoy being with him.)

- he’ll make sure to schedule a period off to help you practise and perfect the script that was chosen for you in the empty auditorium. he eagerly savours the time he gets to hear you, your beautiful voice, out loud, like never ending music to his ears.

- aside from the dorms, he lives in a multimillion neighbourhood, and he would be ecstatic to bring you over to his place anytime. you���re slack-jawed the second you enter his home, a wealthy interior designed by specially chosen professionals just for his house. he drags you by the wrist to watch the latest musical that was released in the theater that his family chose to install.

- so—the set of people who were chosen for the roles are out? you’re glad, but rook is a leaping ball of sunshine when he takes a glance at the name list (as if he didn’t play a part in convincing the judges one way or another). he genuinely cannot wait to see you shining so brightly on stage, as he prepares a divine bouquet of roses he’s planning to give you once it’s all over to congratulate you for all the untiring effort you’ve put into this play.

SILVER AS

⤷ THE FLOATER !

- luckily for him, he wasn’t the type of student who garnered much attention after being transferred to the school. he’s received some greetings by those who actually mean it, but all in all is content with where he’s placed in for now.

- being a regular loner has him sitting outside on the unoccupied bench for him to eat his lunch. a simple but memorable ham and cheese sandwich which he remembers getting spoiled with from his caretaker since early childhood. he holds everything they do immensely close to his heart, thankful for having the utmost kindest person in the world to look after him. he’ll make sure to pay back for everything he’s indebted to when he’s older.

- with restless desires to grow familiar with the school grounds, he takes a small walk to the library and school store to send a salutation to riddle, the boy who’s in the same year as him and the shop’s very own Mr. S, a guy who’s devoted a ton of his life to this shop. silver thinks about how there’s so many sentimental people who wander this school, a little of the opposite of his stone-faced persona.

YOUR DYNAMIC

- he’ll admit, he was slightly taken aback when you fearlessly took a seat next to him on the bench when he wasn't on guard. he jumps a little, thinking there was a nearby predator who was ready to pounce on him any second. but no—it was another regular student who roams the school halls like any other. he’s never seen you before despite being the one who joined the school later—in fact, he’s never really been with a familiar face other than sebek.

- but you just smile and giggle at him when you notice his lost nature. ah, he felt a flare of life ignite in him with such unforeseen kindness being thrown at him. there’s no doubt he's��going to be the slightest bit wary of you, but you take his uninterested course of actions as a yes and stay by him for the rest of the period. 

- you don’t make voice the fact that it was you who carefully placed the bundle of flowers on his head when he fell asleep on the arm rest.

- after a few months of hushed whispers and note-sharing in the middle of class, he presents the idea for the both of you to own your own personal diary to journal your daily happenings. a secret note-taker, between two hearts that flicker with a hint of trust for the other.

you both enjoy reading what the other has written for the day, and silver hopes that he’ll be able to point out the tiniest bit of a confession you could’ve possibly written down somewhere for him, as much as how insensitive he is.

- while classes are out and people start to take their leave, you and silver are to stay back to dutifully complete your classroom cleaning before the next day of lessons. who knew such a mere task could put the both of you in a difficult situation? you both reach your hand out to grab the duster to wipe the board, only for your fingers to graze each other as a spark of electricity courses through your bodies, feeling warmer than ever.

- when you’re finally done, it coincidentally starts pouring out of the blue. with the both of you standing at the school entrance, silver strips off his cardigan and uses it to shelter you, holding your figure close as the both of you run in the rain like your lives depend on it. he wishes you didn’t have to arrive at a gazebo so soon, he still wanted to see you, in his clothes for as long as he wanted.

MALLEUS DRACONIA AS

⤷ THE (NOT SO) SECRET ADMIRER !

- often gets recognised for his godly visuals, though he doesn’t pay much mind to them? yes, he makes an effort to keep himself presentable as a wielder of royal blood, but he doesn't see all the craze over his face. his aloofness only makes people swoon over him even more.

- he’s rather quiet in these busy halls. he charmingly excuses the person who accidentally bumped into him head-first, proceeding with his walk until he arrives and stops in front of one particular locker. onlookers goggle absently, thinking about what he’s doing in front of another person’s locker? his is way further away than where he is, so what..?

- malleus sighs in contempt when the bell indicating the next lesson’s beginning rings.

- class is dismissed for lunch and stays glued to his seat as he pulls out an ancient history book to pick up where he left on. his table is uncluttered, and he places the well-researched tome on his desk as he starts reading through its contents once again. nobody is aware of his hidden yearning for a specific person to come running by, catching him in their view through the window, saying the most, honey-sweet “hello!” anyone could ever dream of.

YOUR DYNAMIC

- it’s not much of a secret admirer at this point, when it’s so glaringly obvious who it is. as if he was starring in a Hollywood film, glances at all directions in his way to make sure no one was present to disrupt this long-awaited momentum. once again, he stops by at your locker to open it and set down the letter, inside. one that was signed off with his initials as he positions an aromal rose just beside it.

- with the help of his relatives who are comfortable with internet devices—he’s able to search up the latest trends of deserts and lattes from the nearest coffee shop that’s located somewhere near. he’ll ask you if you’d like to journey with him into the city to a particular eatery that grasped his fancy, he assures you that he has the money, and he made sure to reserve a seat on the balcony as well.

- daily alone time with him in the music room as he gracefully plays the violin for you that only makes you swerve his lane even more. with the doors shut and the curtains closed—not fully as to block the outside light—the most euphonious tunes fill the dim lit room as pure gold spill over the strings. an individual performance he dedicated all and just for you.

- when the end of the school year is near, he readies himself to confess to you with all his body and soul. he takes it upon himself to call up a meeting with you outside of school in the evening, just when the glorious sun starts to set.

he talks his promise, rubbing your deathly cold hands in his, and voices his words of honour to make you the most fortunate person alive to be with him. who could ever ask for a better confession?

[salmonskinrolltf]

Soulmates 2

[Here's a sequel of sorts to my previous story Soulmates (you don't need to have read it to understand this story). With thanks to @guytransformedforever, @beardobession, @tf-vigilante, @maletransformationlover, @clevertreephilosopher, @scorpionofredsand, and @maletffanatic for providing the photos used as inspiration.]

Hello, my name is Tyler. This is me:

And this is my roommate, Dylan:

Now look, I don’t have a problem with gay people. My cousin is a lesbian. And Dylan is a great roommate. Stays out of my way when we’re not gymming together, but is always down to hang when I need someone to talk to. I just wish he would be less in my face with all his gay shit. Rainbow flags everywhere, blasting Ariana Grande at all hours, constantly bringing new Grindr hookups back to the apartment but giving me side-eye when I ogle women. It’s just… too much for me.

Here’s the thing. I might actually be able to change that. I have this friend Evan, who I’ve wingmanned for on a few occasions over the past year. One night, when we were getting drunk together, he shared his secret with me. He has a magic gift. He clasped my hand and said “tomorrow, you will wake up and have this magic too.” And sure enough, the next day I could feel a tingle coursing through my veins, and I automatically had the knowledge of how to channel it.

Now I have the ability to change somebody’s future. I can’t fiddle with anything that’s innate or has already happened to them. Like, I can’t just make Dylan straight. But I can shape his future decisions or actions, and my magic will make alterations to speed the process along. Like if I made him decide to work out more, he would basically become a muscle beast within the week. Not that I’d do that. I still gotta be the alpha here. I just want to make him a little more… palatable. Someone cool to kick back with all the time, even if he sucks dick. Let’s see... I think I know what will work.

TOMORROW, DYLAN WILL BECOME OBSESSED WITH SPORTS

———————————

Hello, my name is Dylan:

Sports are my LIFE. I never cared about them much growing up, but about a month ago I felt the urge to join my local queer volleyball team and never looked back. It became my everything. It’s been great exercise, but on top of playing volleyball and getting totally jacked off of it, I’ve loved the sense of camaraderie. I love my team. So much so that I even pierced my nipples on a dare when we lost the semifinals. My teammate River also recommended I stop dyeing my hair, and I think the look is really working for me. For some reason, even though it’s only been a month, my hair has grown out significantly since then. Was the red dye stunting its growth or something? Anyway. I also feel like my roommate Tyler and I have really bonded. We’ve been watching baseball games together and I think he appreciates how into it I am. He says he’s excited to bro out while watching football together in the fall.

I love Tyler, but here’s the thing. Maybe I love him too much. I’ve always had this huge crush on him, and no matter how many random Grindr hookups I try to distract myself with, I just can’t stop hoping that one day he’ll give up women for good and decide he loves me. Especially now that we’re spending all this time together, bumping chests when our team wins and shit.

I know us getting together is never going to happen, but I have this… temptation. I was born with a gift. Or maybe I wasn’t. Something my twink friend Paul told me made me think maybe he had something to do with it. Anyway, I have the ability to reshape someone’s past. I change just one thing about their past, and everything about their present just ripples forward to reflect that change. It’s a delicate art. Changing something big can have huge effects that are totally unpredictable. It’s a major temptation to make Tyler gay, but who knows how he’d turn out. Plus, I think that’s just too invasive.

But… Maybe I could change something small about him. Something that would make him less my type, and allow me to move on and focus on finding a boyfriend who would actually be into me. I’m into nice guys. I really love how kind and caring he is. And come on, he’s a FIREFIGHTER. So maybe I can try…

TYLER GREW UP SELFISH AND SPOILED

———————————

What’s up, I’m Tyler.

You dig the jacket? Yeah, I’m still a firefighter, I’m just off duty. But babes dig whatever look I rock, you know what I mean? I get what I want, and what I want is a lot of one night stands. I know how to get ‘em, too. I’m so glad I made the decision to grow this beard out a year ago, it’s opened so many doors for me. And opened a lot of legs.

I’m getting what I want from Dylan, too. Finally, I have a roommate who’s willing to grab brews and watch the game with me. But I think I fucked up when I changed him. Queer volleyball isn’t exactly “sports,” at least not in my book. I thought he’d come out like a linebacker or something! I mean, nipple rings were never part of the plan. The gay guys seem to really go for them, too, so he’s got an even steadier stream of Grindr hookups coming in and out of the place.

On top of that, I’m a little sick of his shit. He’s always giving me lip about stupid stuff like leaving my dishes in the sink or dropping my unwashed uniform on the bathroom floor. He says it’s unsanitary. Like his parade of twinks aren’t dying to sniff that shit anyway. He just doesn’t get it. I think his volleyball teammates are a bad influence too. They’re all so obsessed with aesthetic and anti-hetero rhetoric. I still can’t make him straight, but I can definitely make him less… annoying.

TOMORROW, DYLAN WILL START HANGING OUT WITH MORE STRAIGHT PEOPLE WHO WILL HELP HIM STOP WORRYING ABOUT STUPID SHIT AND BE LESS PRISSY, WELL-GROOMED, AND UPTIGHT

———————————

Yo, I’m Dylan.

Yeah, I cut my hair shorter than the last time you saw me. The upkeep was just getting to be too much, y’know? A couple weeks ago, about the time I dumped that lame-ass volleyball team I was on, I just got bored with shaving every day, too. I invested in a trimmer and now I rock the stubble look, and it’s working for me. I’ve gained a bit of weight since then, and it’s all for the better because I joined my local football league. Having a few extra beers with my new buds afterward just adds to my potential as a linebacker, anyway.

I thought hanging out with more straight people would make me get used to their vibe and kinda inoculate me against Tyler, but I’m still totally obsessed with him. He’s more of a bad boy now, but I’m finding that less unappealing than I used to. Plus, he’s still parading around in his uniform all the time. I can’t help it! I’ve jerked off more times that I can count to his Mr. June photos in the local firefighter calendar.

Whenever I see his mom, she’s constantly going on about how, out of all his Tonka toys growing up, the fire truck was always his favorite. She thinks that’s why he grew up to be a firefighter. Maybe I can change that core memory into something a little more… disreputable. That would definitely make him not my type anymore. I hope.

TYLER’S FAVORITE TOY GROWING UP WAS A TONKA MOTORCYCLE

———————————

Fuckin’ A, man, I’m Tyler.

God, I love my hog. She’s a beaut, ain’t she? My parents wanted me to grow up to be a doctor or a lawyer or a firefighter or some shit, but all I ever wanted to do was ride my hog. Chicks want to ride my hog too, and I let them. As long as they don’t go near my bike! Hahaha, get it? Fuck, I love life. Let me take another drag on this stogie real quick.

Where was I? Oh yeah, my roommate, Dylan. I wish I didn’t have to room with anyone, but my boss at the garage keeps refusing to promote me. I should knock him around one of these days, see if that changes his mind. Anyway, sure, Dylan isn’t so much of a priss anymore. He doesn’t give me shit if I leave my grease-stained clothes on the couch or light up when we’re watching a football game.

But I wanted him to be straight-acting, you know? I tried to train him up as my wingman but he wore a super gay shirt with all these see-through holes to the party, and all the chicks kept their eyes on him the whole time! Fucker. Why can’t he be more like his brother? I’ve seen pictures. That dude is a full on redneck slob, got a Confederate tattoo and everything. I know they had the same backwater-ass trailer trash upbringing, why can’t he be rougher around the edges? You know what… maybe he can!

TOMORROW, DYLAN WILL REALIZE HE WANTS TO EMBRACE HIS WHITE TRASH UPBRINGING

———————————

Hey y’all, I’m Dylan.

Hoo-ee, life has been good lately. I dunno why I resisted my good ol’ boy roots for so long. This goatee really makes me look rugged, dunnit? Also the chest hair. So grabbable. I decided to stop shaving my body, and poof! There it went. A full rug, within like two days I reckon. Like a sign from God. This is how I was always meant to be.

I know I was trying to push away my crush on Tyler by making him not my type, but what’s the fuckin’ point? I need someone who can handle me, and this hot as fuck biker dude I’ve created might be the only one who can handle me at this point. I ride ‘em rough and bareback, just like the horses back home, and weak city dudes just can’t handle it.

Will he be the same if he’s not straight? Maybe not. But as long as he can take my eight inches, I’ll keep him around. I vaguely remember having some sort of compunction about changing him so drastically, but I’m too horny to remember what it was.

Fuck it.

TYLER WAS BORN GAY

———————————

Uh… hi. I’m Tyler. Who are you again?

Sorry, I’m pretty forgetful. Daddy Dylan says I don’t gotta remember shit though, as long as I let him ride me as rough and as long as he likes. He’ll do all the rest for me. He tells me where to go, what to do, who to do. There are so many nice, hot guys who are willing to pay our rent if I turn a few tricks. I love it.

I’ve been like this as long as I can remember. My mom and dad kicked me out when I was 18, in my senior year of high school. I was caught sucking my English teacher’s dick behind the locker rooms. I never went to college after that, but it’s not like I was getting good grades anyway. Sucking Mr. Brentmon’s cock wasn’t for my health, you know. He had a nice juicy one, too. I still dream about it sometimes.

What was I saying? Oh yeah, I took up with this biker gang for a while after getting kicked out. I’ve always had a thing for bikers. But once they got through using my ass, they got bored. It was hard for a while, but now things are oh, so easy. I get all the dick I could ever want. I have a roof over my head, and no job to worry about. All I do is go to the gym and eat and fuck and I never have to think. Dylan said he might take me out muddin’ sometime too. I don’t know what that is, but anything Dylan does is fun. Fuck, I love the way his goatee tickles my skin when he kisses me, so rough, so manly. Way manlier than I’ve ever been. It’s so fucking hot. I love how he takes care of me.

I really have no complaints. I wouldn’t change anything about my life, even if I could remember how…

[morbethgames]

The Recoding of The Bureau is Finished

I’m done recoding the game. All in all, it was honestly about what I expected to be slimmed off once I got a good look at some of the scenes. As I expected, 90% of that were from the first 3 chapters. I am a mix of emotions after arduously spending hours upon hours replacing gender variables one at a time by hand. Which unfortunately, I couldn’t think of another way for doing it, because all of the characters were using the same gender variables instead of independent ones for each character.

I’m relieved it’s done. Disappointed in myself that I had to do it at all. Irritated that some people decided to put the game on blast for it rather than give actionable suggestions on how to fix it. Excited to finally be able to continue writing both the extra scenes that need to be written and the main story. I honestly don’t know which one I’m going to continue with first.

Please leave feedback.

There are still no doubt one or two spots with maybe 1-2k words each that could be slimmed down, but that would require a lot of work for very little payoff. So yes, I’m comfortable saying, the game is almost 400k words long in total. 85k words per playthrough. That’s not including the extra scenes in the stats screen, because randomtest doesn’t go in the stats screen (to my knowledge at least, someone can correct me if I’m wrong). So you still have to play the game roughly 5 times and choose different choices to see everything it has to offer.

Is the game smaller? A bit, yeah. Is it 100-150k? It’s more than double that.

Now, that doesn’t say anything for the state of some of the writing. If I have to read someone nodding, or smiling, or ‘slightly’, ‘a bit’, or ‘a little’ something in my own work again, I’m gonna jump out a window. Obviously, back when I started writing this, I was very much influenced by Wayhaven. I’ve since grown out of that idea. Since the game has taken on an identity of its own, and while I will forever be grateful to that series and continue to support it, there’s gonna be some changes in the final version of this game. Less of what I said above, less ellipses, and the flirting (especially in the beginning) will seem much more down to earth and believable for the setting it’s in, with a bit of wiggle room since this is still very much a YA game.

Please leave feedback.

The rewrite will not be happening until the first draft of the game is fully finished. I refuse to get stuck in a rewrite phase, mostly because I would just find it way too boring.

My patreon will continue to have static fiction on it, as well as sneak peeks into upcoming stuff. In case you’ve been missing it, Love In Stasis is up to Chapter 6 at this point, with more to come. I’m also thinking about potentially starting a horror static fiction.

I’ll be relying on people to playtest this new version of the game to tell me about any continuity errors, and gender errors, any anything errors. So please, play the demo. Let me know if you notice anything. I think if I’ve proved anything at this point, it’s that I act and fix things based on feedback.

And pettiness.

But mostly feedback.

Please leave feedback.

Last thing I’ll say; I’m gonna stop saying I’m bad at coding. Someone who’s bad at coding wouldn’t have been able to implement the text boxes and fine tune them. Someone who’s bad at coding wouldn’t have been able to code Golden Eyes. Someone who’s bad at coding wouldn’t have been able to slim down the game that much from where it was. So it’s time I give myself the credit of someone who at least knows what they’re doing. I’m not adept at it, but I’m certainly not bad at it either.

I’m still expecting the game to end up over 500k words when all is said and done. It will not be one million words, but I’m actually kind of happy about that. This is proof I’m still working on this game, and the next time it updates, it will have new content. Thanks for those that are patient and stick around, your support does still genuinely mean a lot.

Please leave feedback.

Stay Brilliant,

-Vi

P.S. Please leave feedback.

🛡️Patreon | Forum Page | Demo Link🛡️

[steddiealltheway]

Thinking of a steddie neighbor “enemies” to lovers AU. Oh my gosh it’s so long again and now there’s ronance. 

Steve is a middle school teacher, and he’s lucky to find a small house that’s close to the school he’s teaching at after the summer ends. In fact, he seems a little too lucky. It’s only after he’s signed all the papers that the old tenets show up to warn him not to buy the house because the crazy neighbor next door. 

Steve kind of shrugs it off and thinks nothing of it because he’s dealt with crazy before, and his students give him something new to deal with every day.  

During the move in process, he keeps glancing at the dark house next door. Sometimes he thinks he sees something, but whenever he looks there’s nothing there. Until one time when the neighbor seems to get something caught in the curtains and is unable to close them fast enough. But still, it’s only a small slit open and with the sun beating down, the glare is too harsh to really see anything. 

For the rest of the day, he doesn’t see a single curtain move. And by the end of the day, when all his boxes are moved inside his house, Steve wants more than anything to just go to sleep on the bed he tiredly put together. Some of the corners aren’t tucked in properly, and Steve definitely doesn’t remember what box he put his pillows in, but he collapses on his bed quickly on the verge of sleeping. 

Then, he can see, or rather hear, what the neighbors meant. There’s a screeching noise and then some loud crazy riffs being played from some guitar next door. Steve covers his ears and groans when he realizes that it’s not going to help anything. It’s as if the neighbor is playing their guitar outside the house.  

It’s a new era of Steve’s life, so instead of letting it go, he decides he’s going at the issue head on. He groans as he pries himself out of his bed. Okay, maybe letting it go would be a better idea, but what happens when school is back in and he needs to sleep? 

This is absolutely the right decision. 

As he steps out the front door, he instantly realizes the problem. The neighbor has cracked the window next to Steve’s house as if he’s trying to be a nuisance. Maybe the old tenets were right. 

As Steve approaches the front door, he glances around the porch and catches sight of a skeleton sitting on a small chair with a mug attached to its bony hand. Upon closer inspection, Steve notices it’s a Garfield mug which makes him smile a little. Maybe a little crazy isn’t too bad. 

But the blasting from the house is bad. Steve takes a deep breath and loudly knocks on the door. The music halts almost immediately and it takes a few moments and a bit of cursing from the other side of the door for it to finally creak open. 

Oh Christ. 

The door slowly opens revealing longer dark curly hair, pale skin, big doe eyes, full lips, and altogether Steve’s absolute daydream which he guesses might quickly turn into a nightmare as the man smirks. “Hello, my handsome new neighbor,” the man flirts easily. 

Steve won’t play this game though. He’s too smart now to open up this easily. His mouth forms into a tight straight line before he corrects the man, “Steve. And you are?” 

“Eddie. A pleasure to meet you,” the neighbor replies with a bright smile as he bows dramatically. 

Steve nearly groans at the sight of his head going dow- 

No. He’s not doing that. That’s a recipe for disease. Instead, he’ll get to the point. “Nice to meet you, too, Eddie,” Steve ignores how nice the name falls out of his mouth as he continues, “It would be even nicer if you closed your windows or turned down your amps this late at night.” 

Eddie’s eyebrows furrow, and he glances down at his watch. “It’s ten o’clock.” 

Steve sighs, “Yes, and I need to sleep.” 

The neighbor eyes Steve up and down for a moment. “What if I kept playing?” 

Steve has no idea why he says it, maybe it’s the sleep deprivation, tiredness from the move, or the fact that his neighbor is a bit overwhelmingly hot. But he answers, “Then you’re starting a war.” 

It’s clearly the wrong thing to say because the tampered down mischief in Eddie’s eyes light up. He holds out his hand, and Steve reluctantly takes it. “War it is,” Eddie says with a shake of his hand. “Goodnight, Steve.” Eddie squeezes his hand one time then releases it. The door is closed before Steve can process what’s happening. 

With a sigh, Steve makes his way back to his house. Before he can make it there, the loud music already starts blasting again.  

A little crazy is definitely bad. 

Nearly an hour later, the music continues as Steve desperately tries to put a pillow over his head to block it out. He’s never been one that’s able to sleep with loud noises, but, no matter what, he will still wake up early in the morning and be unable to fall back asleep. 

He groans and turns to the clock he ended up unpacking instead of sleeping. A few seconds until eleven o’clock. He watches as the seconds tick by, and as soon as it hits eleven the music stops. Strange.  

But then the music continues again, and Steve nearly screams. But then he realizes… it’s different. It’s softer as if he’s playing a lullaby. And as much as Steve hates to admit it, it’s kind of lulling him to sleep. 

It’s definitely not on purpose though. Even from their brief interaction, Eddie doesn’t seem to be the type to go easy when calling war. Maybe he’s just trying to get into Steve’s head. 

As the soft music drones on, Steve finds himself drifting off to thoughts about his new neighbor.  

-:-:-:-:-:- 

The next morning, Steve wakes up to the sight of the sun rising and blinding him through his windows. He needs to hang up his curtains. He stretches and slowly gets out of bed knowing he won’t be able to go back to sleep. 

Time to start unpacking. He makes his way to the garage and peaks out the window on his way. All of Eddie’s curtains are drawn, and Steve doubts that he’ll be awake for hours. 

When he opens the garage door, he spots something… interesting. Something that will make Eddie’s life a little miserable… 

A lawnmower. 

Now, Steve knows the lawn doesn’t really need to be mowed at the moment. But to get revenge… it’s worth it. 

He still waits a few hours until it’s a somewhat reasonable hour for mowing. He doesn’t want the other neighbors hating him. He decides to start up the lawnmower right next to the window Eddie left open the night before. 

A few seconds later, Steve sees the curtains yanked open and the window slammed down. He lets himself smirk a little at the mini tantrum. As he’s finishing up the first strip, he hears the front door to Eddie’s house slam shut even over the lawnmower. 

Steve turns the other way to face his and Eddie’s houses as he mows the next strip. He glances up and waves with a big smile. Eddie is swamped in a large black blanket and squinting, or rather glaring as if the sun had personally offended him. 

Steve stops the lawnmower and takes a minute to gloat. As the noise dies down, Steve asks, “Not a morning person?” 

Eddie just frowns at him. It looks as if he’s taking all his brain power to come up with a response. His voice, low and raspy with sleep replies, “I would be if I had a better view.” 

Steve huffs but looks down at his shirt that’s already starting to get a little damp with sweat. The morning sun in the summer is overwhelmingly hot, and Steve doesn’t want the farmer’s tan. He winks at Eddie before stripping his shirt off and tossing it at him. 

“Better?” Steve asks as the shirt hits Eddie and falls on the deck. 

“Much better, thank you,” Eddie says and has the nerve to join the little skeleton on his porch to sit and watch as Steve mows. 

Steve tries not to think too much about it, but he’s overly aware of the attention. Not that he doesn’t like it, but he feels like he’s not winning the war. Time to call in Robin for reinforcement.  

-:-:-:-:-:- 

The next few days pass by with Eddie playing loudly every night until eleven o’clock when he finally starts playing soft tunes that lull Steve to sleep. Steve pays him back by one morning mowing Eddie’s lawn while he watches. The next morning, he spends weed whacking his own yard, and the next day is spent weed whacking Eddie’s. Every time, Eddie is woken up but sits outside. 

If Steve is being completely honest, the music helps him sleep, so he doesn’t feel like he’s losing the war too bad. But today is the day he figures out how to win because it finally worked in Robin’s schedule for her to come over later. 

And after Steve shares the whole story after dramatically telling her it’s too much to share over the phone, he regrets it as Robin bursts out laughing. “You’re telling me,” Robin stops to laugh again, “You’re telling me that you’re complaining about going to bed an ‘hour later,’ but the reason you go to bed early is because you struggle to fall asleep. And his music is actually helping you, so you’re basically going to sleep at the same time. Plus, you’re doing his yard work while he ogles you, and you think this is a war?” 

“Yes, that’s exactly what this is,” Steve says seriously. No other explanation.  

“No, this is a weird mating ritual. God, your neighbors must hate you,” Robin comments before laughing again. 

Steve sighs, “Robin, I seriously want to win against this guy. I mean, I even nicely asked him to stop playing so late.” 

Robin eyes him. “Did you really?” 

“Probably not,” Steve answers honestly, knowing it’s no use to lie to Robin. She figures out everything anyway. 

“Here’s a plan,” Robin says opening a box and looking through it. “Why don’t you just ask Eddie’s neighbor what they do when he plays late at night? They clearly have some solution. And the true way to win the ‘war’ is by letting it not affect you anymore. Then, you don’t have to do yard work, and you’ll be taking away his view in the morning.” 

…honestly, it’s a great plan. It really is. So much so that it’ll probably stop this whole war thing in its tracks. “No, I have to win this thing,” Steve replies instead of agreeing.  

Robin sighs and grabs him by the wrist. “Come with me.” Instead of giving him the option, she practically drags him out the door. “Now, we’re going to meet this next-door neighbor of the infamous Eddie and give you a reasonable solution before you do anything irrational.” 

Before Steve can disagree, Robin has him dragged out the door and two houses down. She knocks on the door. “And maybe you’ll see that the solution was so simpl-” 

The door opens and out comes the other neighbor. Steve watches as Robin’s jaw drops as she takes in the sight of the shorter girl with curly hair and big blue eyes. “Hi?” The girl says.  

Robin’s mouth opens and closes. 

“Hey,” Steve says and reaches out his hand to greet her. “I’m your neighbor two houses down, and this is my best friend Robin. Sorry for stopping by in the evening. She was just telling me that I needed to introduce myself to some of the people in the neighborhood. Right, Robin?” Steve prompts when he notices that the girl is eyeing Robin too. 

“I’m Nancy,” the neighbor says with a smile. She reaches her hand out to Robin. 

“Robin,” Robin blurts out and takes a moment to shake Nancy’s hand. 

The two girls shake hands for an embarrassingly long time. And Steve hates to interrupt for Robin’s sake, but he has to ask, “So, we were wondering how you dealt with Eddie’s music at night.” He cringes as he takes in how blunt he is, but he’s honestly curious. 

Nancy laughs and replies, “Honestly, it was much worse before you moved. He would play until the early AMs.” 

Steve thinks she must be wrong. Maybe he continues playing that lullaby stuff through the night. “You mean the softer lullaby stuff, right?” 

Nancy shakes her head with a small smile. “Not at all. I’ve never heard him play like that before. Then again, my solution is noise cancelling headphones.” 

Robin smacks Steve on the arm, “I told you the solution was simple. Plus, this really doesn’t sound like war, does it?” 

Nancy leans against her doorway and asks, “Is doing his yard work supposed to be war?” 

“That’s exactly what I said! See, Steve,” Robin says with a bright smile that Steve notices catches Nancy’s eye. 

“Fine, then you two can see what happens when I don’t do anything tomorrow morning,” Steve says resting his hand on his jutted-out hip. Robin’s lip twitches as she holds back on making fun of him for the “mom stance.” 

Robin smiles and says, “Well, I don’t have anywhere to be tonight or tomorrow morning, so I will stay the night.” 

“I don’t have anywhere for you to sleep so you can’t,” Steve lies, knowing exactly where the air mattress is packed away. 

“You can stay here,” Nancy suggests. “I’ll also be up early to spy on the drama.” 

Steve recognizes the exact moment Robin processes what she’s said as her eyes widen a bit. “Promise I’m not a murderer,” Nancy says with a wink that seems to further melt Robin’s brain. 

As much as Steve doesn’t want to give Robin more reason to make fun of him in the future, he has to give it to Nancy for how direct she is. He thinks he’s gonna like this girl.  

“Well, we’ll go grab Robin’s stuff, and she’ll be back shortly. I’m going to crash pretty soon before the show starts,” Steve says with a smile. “It was very nice to meet you.” 

“It was nice to meet you, Steve. I’ll see you soon, Robin,” Nancy says with a wave as she closes the door. 

“Holy shit.” 

“Robin, please save your freak out for a few moments when we get back inside my house. She can see you through the windows.” 

Robin whispers under her breath a few more expletives on their quick walk back. “Holy shit!” Robin yells as they get inside. 

Oh boy. 

A few pacing freak outs, a quick pep talk, and a lot of fixing hair and makeup in the bathroom mirror later and Robin is finally on her way to Nancy’s. Steve watches through his window as she makes her way down the street. He has no idea how the hell it happened, but he’s happy for her. 

…hopefully Nancy isn’t a serial killer… 

Okay, maybe it’s a bad idea, but Steve needs to ask Eddie. He makes his way out his back door and sneaks over to Eddie’s house to the side window that’s already slightly open. He knocks on it a few times.  

Eddie opens the curtains and lifts up the window some more. “Why hello Romeo. Why are you at my window instead of the door? Not that I’m complaining of course.” 

“Nancy and my friend are spying on me. But I needed to ask if Nancy is a serial killer.” 

Eddie stares at him for a moment. “Have you met Nancy?” 

“Yes.” 

“Then you know she isn’t a serial killer,” Eddie replies. “Is Robin the girl you were walking and holding hands with earlier?” 

“Is that jealousy I’m hearing?” 

Eddie shrugs. “Just trying to get in the head of the enemy.” It’s clear that Eddie is trying to be nonchalant about the whole thing but is failing to do so. 

Rather than torture him by not answering, Steve quickly insists, “She’s my best friend. And she’s also staying the night at Nancy’s.” 

Eddie sits on the window ledge. “Do they know each other?” 

“Just met,” Steve says with a wide smile. 

Eddie laughs and Steve can’t help but join him. Gosh he looks gorgeous. 

Nope. Enemies. Right. 

“I always knew Nancy had it in her. So, Robin’s… cool, right? I’ve got to watch out for Nance’s sake,” Eddie says and tucks a strand of hair behind his ear. Steve has the urge to tuck in the other side as well. 

“Yeah. She’s great. Incredible really. Always has had my back,” Steve says trying not to gush too much. He needs to get out of this conversation fast before he does something dumb like continue it as if they are friends. “Well, I’m heading off to bed.” 

“And I’m heading off to practice,” Eddie says with a wink. “Goodnight, Steve.” 

“Goodnight, Eddie,” Steve replies and holds eye contact with him for a moment as he walks away. 

Ending this war will probably be a good thing. 

-:-:-:-:-:- 

The next morning, Steve wakes up at his usual time, but instead of going to his garage, he starts to go through the boxes he hasn’t unpacked. He stares at the pile and sighs, “Yeah, this is gonna suck.” 

A few hours later, and there’s a knock at Steve’s door. Probably Robin bored because nothing is happening. 

He makes his way to the door and opens it. Not Robin. “Hey, Eddie. What’s up?” Steve asks, leaning against the doorway. 

Eddie is weirdly not wrapped up in a blanket. He has his hands in the pockets of black, ripped jeans and rocks back on his heels. “I was just… checking if you’re okay.” 

Steve stares at him for a moment and takes in the slight look of worry all over his face. He nods, “Yeah, I’m fine.” 

Eddie nods back and glances down. “I was just worried because… you weren’t waking me up with the usual ruckus. Thought something must've happened." 

"Just unpacking this morning instead," Steve says with a shrug. Better to play it off as if it's nothing rather than giving Eddie the impression of the feelings that have already started to form. 

"Right, well. I'll... head back then," Eddie says with a little wave. He makes it about two steps back before he turns around. "Is this about the music? I'll stop playing so late if it's really bothering you." 

This is the part where Steve is supposed to say yes to this, send Eddie on his way, then celebrate. But after four days of this routine and so many nights of restful sleep... "No, it's not... it's not that. It’s um...” Steve trails off at a loss for words. “The war’s still on.” 

Eddie smiles but it doesn’t seem entirely genuine. “Ah, getting in my head I see. I’ve gotta hand it to you, Steve, you aren’t just looks.” 

Steve watches as Eddie leaves, shoulders tense as he walks back to his house. He catches sight of two figures two doors down waving at him. Robin and Nancy look like they’re huddled together, and shit, if Robin can do it so can Steve. 

“Eddie!” Steve yells out. Eddie stops in his tracks and slowly turns around. “How about we make a peace treaty over dinner tonight?” 

Eddie’s face slowly lights up with a genuine smile. “I’d really like that.” 

“Finally!” A voice that sounds a lot like Nancy yells breaking the moment a bit. There’s loud laughter and a celebratory screech that is definitely Robin. 

“Tell me,” Eddie says walking toward Steve’s porch, “How does one deal with loud and annoying neighbors?” 

Steve laughs. “I have no idea, but I think my answer and Nancy’s will be very different.” 

“Oh yeah? What are your answers?” Eddie asks, now walking up the steps.  

“Well, you have to ask other questions first like: Are they one hundred percent your type to the point that you start a war with them that turns into you doing their lawn shirtless just to get their attention while they lull you to sleep at night?” 

Eddie dramatically taps a finger on his chin and squints off as if he’s searching for the answer. “I have to say that Nancy... her answer will most likely be ‘no’ to that. I’m not sure though. Maybe we should ask her.” 

Steve snorts and shoves at Eddie’s arm. Eddie locks eyes with him for a moment, and Steve can’t help but wonder if he could get lost in them forever. “Eddie?” 

“Yeah,” Eddie breathes out as his eyes trace over Steve’s face and track down to his lips. 

“Want to make that peace treaty over breakfast instead of dinner?” 

Eddie smiles. “Absolutely,” he says and walks past Steve into his house before he’s invited inside. Steve can’t even be upset about it. 

A glance down the street and Steve sees that Nancy is also heading inside but Robin trails behind looking towards Steve. He lifts his hand up and Robin does the same resulting in a quick air high five. They’re going to have a lot to talk about later. 

My bday ficlet to you <3

[artdcnaldson]

been thinking a lot lately about how once you know someone growing up, you know them forever. art and patrick haven't spoken in years but patrick knows art's favorite kind of cereal. art and patrick haven't spoken in years but art has to turn the radio off when patrick's karaoke go-to comes on (don't stop me now by queen, obviously). art and patrick haven't spoken in years but patrick still sends an unsigned card to the nursing home on his grandmother's birthday. art and patrick haven't spoken in years but nobody knows either of them as well as they do.

Art goes through a box in the attic when he’s moving into his and Tashi’s new place. Lily’s on the way and they’re trying to make room for all of her stuff, which means downsizing things they don’t need anymore. Art sits on the floor, combing through old shirts he’d packed away, video games, half-destroyed Lego sets, cds… and then he finds his MRTA box.

Doubles tournament trophies with his and Patrick’s names engraved on the plaque or etched into the glass. Their state champions ribbons and plaques. Pictures of them that his grandmother clipped in newspapers, pictures printed that still have tiny thumbtack holes in them from where they were pinned to his bulletin board. He finds an old iPod and immediately plugs it in to charge. When he presses shuffle and it’s a song that he and Patrick used to sing with the windows down and volume at full blast in their first cars, he cries.

Patrick doesn’t have a box. Patrick’s stuff got packed away and stored in a home he doesn’t visit anymore. But he wears his MRTA shirt until there’s holes and it’s so soft he worries that each wash will be its last. He keeps his old flip phone with his original phone number charged and in his glove box, just in case Art calls since he won’t know his new number. His phone password is Art’s birthday, because at the academy he and Art made their locker combinations each other’s.

When they meet in New Rochelle, Patrick is expecting his Art. The same Art who showed up to MRTA with braces and a layer of baby fat and a Pokémon card collection. The same Art who puked his guts out the first time he drank and who Patrick taught to smoke cigarettes. Who Patrick taught a lot of things. His Art. His best friend, which he thought was permanent. The type of thing that doesn’t just… wash away.

He sees Art in the sauna and it’s not his Art anymore. He’s something else. He’s tired and angry and resentful. But maybe he’s somewhere in there. Patrick knows all about holding onto the past and not letting go.

[nescaveckwriter]

Hey, lovely! 🥰

So I'll put the request here too to make it easier for you to answer: can I request a fic from you where Dean falls asleep on Y/N's shoulder when they're hanging out with her family like that dream I told you about 🥹 something sweet and fluffy, and maybe she'll later tease Dean, but just a little 😆🤭

Love you and thank you! 🤍☀️

❤️. Awww @k-slla 🐞... I really hope this is what you had in mind, Oh goodness 🤭 its such a cute request 🥰 and I love you too 💕... Also I'm going to tag @artyandink for my first post on the #Jensenathon and then @anyfandomgoesbingo for my fist square ('Game Night, will be in bold') 🤭🥰 hopefully y'all like this . 🥰🤭🐞

Warnings: I'm going to say 18+ only ya know just for precaution 😅 but honestly there's none, just fluffy and sweetness.

Words: 1015

A little fun !! 🤭❤️❤️

He's hand runs over his freckled face, it's been a rough couple of days, he's been struggling more to sleep, than in a while, everything weighing so heavily on his shoulders, so when I came running towards him, big smile plastered on my face, almost excitedly jumping up and down, like a two year old, "Dean! Babe?" His green eyes stare into mine, and I feel butterflies swirling around again, "Sweetheart? Don't you seem all excited!" 

Laughing "I am, it's been awhile since we had a fun time" giving him a Bambi-like glaze "so, my parents invited us to Game night, please can we go?" 

He couldn't keep the smile from tugging at the corners of his perfect plum lips, "That sounds like fun sweetheart"

 "Really?" I yelped.

He pulls me into one of those breath stopping hugs, tugging his head into the crook of my neck , the hot air of his breath tickling against my skin , while he whispers "your the only bit of light in this world you know that?" I just hugged him back, unsure how to reply, the emotion welling up in my eyes, so instead of saying a single word, I held him tight, wrapping my arms around his shoulders, just lightly running my fingers, in his hair. I'm not sure how long we held each other in that heartfelt embrace but without saying a single word, it spoke of love, trust, peace, maybe the only sense of peace we had in our lives.

Blasting the radio loudly, playing Dean's favourite Led Zeppelin songs, on the drive over to my parents house, we got out, in a quite cheerful mood, well I could still see the heaviness in those emerald green orbs of his, but I made a quick promise to myself that, I'll do anything in my power, to make sure he has a little fun and relaxes a bit. So without further due, I grabbed his hand, which in return he held the beer and some of the snacks. We rang the doorbell and got welcomed as if we were long lost. We walked in and the living room, spoke of fun with the board games all stacked up, there was wine, and beer, finger foods, it spelled laughter and fun.

 As the night got started and we were teamed up together we laughed and shared stories throughout the games. When Dean ate all the pie and some other snacks, me and my mom went into the kitchen, to get some more snacks. When she smiled looked at me and said, "Sweetie,you look so happy are you?" 

My eyes glistened, "Mom! I'm not happy, I'm overjoyed, I simply adore Dean, I love him more than anything in this world" soft tears rolled down my mom's cheeks, "Sweetie I'm so happy for you, he looks like a good man" I nod, "He is mom, he has his problems but when it comes to me, he treats me like a queen". And with that we walked back to where Dean and the rest of my family were sitting. He gave me that smirk, of his, the one that made my knees weak, and I smile back, he pats the seat next to him, and I gladly obliged, he placed a sweet kiss on my cheek, I placed my hand on his thigh, giving him a slight squeeze, after my father cleared his throat he said we should maybe play a card game, and so we started.

The rest of the night was filled with laughter, an accusation of cheating every now and again, but it was all playful, and light hearted fun, and as the night went on, everyone taking turns, when it came to Dean's turn, I felt his head resting on my shoulder, and when I looked down, I saw his eyes were closed, the man fell asleep in the middle of room filled with people. I didn't have the heart to wake him up, or even stir a little, so I took the beer out of his hand, and the left over cards and sat it down with mine, mouthing to my parents that we are done playing for the night so I just watched them play further on, until one for one got up and either went home or to bed, leaving me and Dean in the living room, his head still on my shoulder. It didn't take long for my eyelids to fall close, my head gently rested against him.

The night turned into early morning sunrays lighting up the room, my eyes fluttering open only to be met by his forest green orbs, his voice gruffly "Sweetheart when.. what... How?" Smiling, I look at him, my own voice a little croaky from the sleep, "No! Apparently we're so boring and not good company at all, you fell asleep while we were playing cards" 

Dean looked shocked and ashamed "Sweetheart it's not that, it's, I'm so sorry okay, I don't..." I pressed a finger on his lips , "Shhh, babe I'm joking, I know you were tired" A smile tugs at his plum lips, "really you had to make me feel bad didn't you?" Shrugging my shoulders, chuckling a bit "I couldn't help myself, sorry my love" he looks at me as if he's looking into soul, "I love you, you know that right?" Nodding about to answer but before I could, he's lips crashed against mine in a searing kiss, his fingers tangled in my hair, I couldn't hold the small moan escaping my lips, the grin on Dean's lips was unmistakable, he shifted slightly, gently guiding me to lay on the couch, I giggled, whispering "My parents'' pressing his finger against my lips, "shhh sweetheart, we don't want to wake them up do we?" with that he captures my lips in a passionate kiss, after a little while, he pulls back, hoarsely whispers "I like game night!"  planting yet another kiss, in that moment I knew, I Will always love this green eyed man, even if he falls asleep mid family events.

@jackles010378 @winchesterwild78 @angelbabyyy99 @cevansbaby-dove @bookishtheaterlover7 @cutedisneygrl

[ccadaver]

When Jason was younger, he loved being physically close to people. When he hung out with friends, they'd sit close together to play a game of uno, he'd laugh so hard he'd hit the person closest to him, he'd toss an arm over his friend's shoulder.

Then he was taken from the streets and brought to a mansion. Huge open spaces left no need for closeness like the small rooms he was used to. Bruce would let him hang around him, draped over his shoulders as the grimacing man pulled up casefiles on the computer, but never reciprocated. Because Bruce is closed off, just had his son move out and was grieving what once was. Sometimes he'd be in a good mood and ruffle Jason's hair if he'd gotten a good grade in school or finally perfected a self-defense move.

He went to a private school, where rich kids gloated about their wealth and asked Jason what he'd gotten for Christmas. When Jason replied, glowing with pride, they laughed. He'd gotten a first edition Pride and Prejudice, but the kids said it was a girl book and that reading is for nerds. Needless to say, he didn't get along very well.

He'd lean up against Alfred when reading in the library, but the butler frequently had to leave to do his duties, leaving his side cold.

Eventually, he turned to the family dog, Ace, and to Bruce's dismay he got the dog to cuddle up next to him while he slept. Alfred still has a picture of the first time he'd seen it, and keeps it in his wallet. He never said anything, but once remarked about the dog hair on the sheets being impossible to remove.

Then Jason, optimistic and confident, went after Joker. We all know how that ended.

His mother betrayed him, but, loyal as a dog to its master, he shielded her from the blast. He died.

When he came back, the first thing he remembers is the pain of digging through silk and wood and dirt and grass. His fingers aching. In one big blur, there was pain. Men approaching him, beating him to get a reaction. Reflexes learned from the Bat kicked in and he blocked, but the stinging of the hits grew deeper than skin.

Then he awoke, fully, in a stinging pool of green, viscous liquid. His bones ache, his skin nearly bursts, and immediately he is torn out by a clawed hand. Talia Al Ghul, with her long acrylic nails, rips open his skin as she heaves him from the pool.

Pain. So much of it. She strokes his hair, but the remnants of the Lazarus pit still sting, and she's just massaging it deeper into his scalp.

Then they're running, fleeing from her grandfather. The wind is icy and cuts through clothes, more pain. At the edge of a cliff, he stares with wide eyes as she shoves a backpack into his arms and pushes him.

He falls through icy air into shards of even colder water.

The pain fuels him, drives him to seek the shore. It drives him to anger, rage. Why does it hurt? Why, why does everything hurt all the time? His scars, his skin, his heart. He remembers Bruce. Cold, callous, calculating. Alfred, loving but too busy with his duties. His classmates, laughing at him. A heaviness like a brick in his gut weighs him down and drives him.

He learns, he kills, he fights, he hurts.

When Talia sits across from him at a dining table, she drags soft fingers over his callused hands, and... it hurts. There are no nails, only soft pads of her fingers. Still, it sends a signal of pain, of danger, to his brain. He pulls his hand back and swallows a hiss.

Then he returns, the prodigal son of the Bat. Fully clothed, boots to gloves to even a helmet. No one is touching him, never again.

He places a bomb on the Batmobile, and falters as Bruce approaches. The weight in his gut keeps him from igniting the fuse, from pressing the button. And he curses at himself, you had one job. You came back for one fucking reason, and you can't even do that.

He crosses paths with the Bat after antagonising him from the shadows. He's yearning for his father's attention, but through pain and grief all he knows is antagonistic and violent means. Bruce beats him, but what hurts the most is the helmet shattering. His eye is exposed to the cold Gotham air, exposed to the malicious stare of the man before him. He blinks it away and lifts the helmet.

The confrontation goes exactly as you would expect.

After a long time, he is welcomed back. There are more, now. Child soldiers. They're friendly, though wary. He was once the happiest of them, but his new reputation precedes him. Violent, angry.

He's not angry. He's hurt. Always has been.

[bugiseverywhere]

this song got me thinking of Prohero!Katsuki x ObsidianQuirk!Reader… who keeps dragging him into her little games of toying with the law.. and his thoughts.

Reader isn’t a notorious villain or anyone too special, but they have a pretty neat quirk that they like to put to use every now and then. As long as they get a laugh out of it, really. They can manipulate magma from the earth and utilize it to their liking, including hardening the elements within the material and creating obsidian structures. It’s not overly noticeable if it’s not used to its full potential, and it can easily exhaust them if used to much, but what’s wrong with a little fun here and there?

Recently, some gangs of low end scumbags have been committing crimes around katsuki’s patrolling grounds- childish stuff like stealing money and merchandise from gas stations and small businesses and trying to run away after. However, upon reaching the scene of these crimes, the criminals are already knocked out and tied up by some, what looks like obsidian chain link, but the even more annoying part? Everything the tied up criminals attempted to steal on their own is completely missing, plus a few extra items here and there.

…weird.there’s no hero that he’s aware of that has a quirk capable of doing that, and if there was why hasn’t it been reported that they would be in his area? Also what hero captures people and then walks away with valuables?

This continues for a couple weeks, and it starts to drive the hero into frustration.

Until that is, today.

It was time for the hero to end his patrol and head back to the agency when he heard some commotion ahead. Picking up his pace, katsuki was ready to catch whoever was around the corner when he came face to face with Reader. Laughing softly at the group of teenage boys in front of her, two of them were already knocked out and were currently being tied up in that familiar chain the pro has been busting blood vessels over.

The last standing of the group, dropped everything, running in the opposite direction before being completely knocked sideways by readers quirk and drug towards the rest of the boys on the ground.

“Alright! $250 that’s not bad, time to get the fuck outta he-“

Bending down to collect the random number of snacks and money the boys had previously taken from the gas station down the road, reader looked up.

Katsuki stood before her, completely dumbfounded.

A girl has been doing this? Seemingly about his age- and that quirk..is she a criminal too? She was going to just walk away with stuff!! Who could she be- she’s a decently attractive girl at first glance.. actually scratch that, she’s almost exactly his type in looks-

“This is awkward..uhm- Dynamight right?”

oh.. she knows who he is?.. well of course, he’s pretty known in the public and if she’s been knocking these thugs out and also stealing their stuff, she’s got to be aware of heros…but why is his heart fluttering a bit when she said his name, and why does he feel kind of intimidated right now?… uhm actually why are his legs not moving right now-

“Who the hell are you-“

“Y’know I would love to chat about all of this but I kinda don’t feel like being arrested today so I should get going!”

she used her quirk on him. She completely trapped his legs in her stupid fucking obsidian bullshit, and now she’s running off with money that isn’t hers, and leaving five knocked out idiots behind.

“HEY! WAIT A FUCKING MINUTE IM NOT DONE WITH YOU-“

Blasting out of her obsidian hold he darted around the corner to find her completely out of sight.

-

-

-

Weeks pass and Katsuki is still thinking about Reader. He’s even gone as far as requesting security footage from the local shops where recent crimes have taken place. He’s spent hours analyzing her quirk and trying to find any information he can about her through the static and choppy imaging.

After he couldn’t get much information himself, he sent his secretary to the commission office to get as much information about her as possible. The next morning, a stack of documents were placed on his desk.

(Y/N) (L/N)

Quirk : Obsidian Manipulation

Working Status : Retired Undercover Hero

Hero Name : Igneous

[Headshot]

a retired undercover hero? she’s so young though.. why would she be retired already-

“sir, you’re 2:00 is ready for you in the conference hall.”

“K.”

Katsuki takes a deep breath and gathers his thoughts. He’s got more important things he should be focusing on…not some criminal- no, ex undercover hero.. okay, an ex undercover hero who knocks thugs out but steals valuables- who has a decently good quirk and looked kinda attractive when she used it-

oh,

how the mighty fall…

(in love)

I rushed this but OH MY GAWD. I am obsessed with a dumbfounded very interested katsuki x kinda bad influence but also not horrible person reader. PLEASE, give me your thoughts + add on’s I want to expand this so bad. My head is SPINNING 😫🤌

[plushienanami]

Hello hello! Could I request headcannons for yandere chamber, sova, Omen, and Brimstone with a gn s/o who knows about their antics and Are you trying to escape them? I say, as if I'm trying to get out of protocol (Thank you so much for reading this and sorry for the mistakes, English is not my first language )

Hi everyone! I know it’s been awhile and I’ve been gone so long. I took writers block to a whole new level. This last year sm has happened but to be honest I want to write again and use this as a creative outlet! I hope you enjoy, love you all 🤍

You knew that staying in Protocol was a gamble, never knowing if you were going to come back in one piece or even alive at all. It didn’t help when one particular agent made your time in the special covert operations organization an almost living hell. Even if the fate of the world was on Protocols backs, it was time to leave while you could…or at least that is what you thought.

CHAMBER: 

Before you even began thinking of leaving Protocol, he already knew what was going to happen. It totally wasn’t how uncomfortable he made you when he would constantly flirt with you on missions <3

He wouldn’t talk to you about the matter, actually doesn’t address it all only with small quips and remarks that make you question whether he knows your plan or not. 

Chamber isn’t Brimstone, he doesn’t have the power and control that the head leader holds. Although that doesn’t mean he is totally powerless, this man has money and status that he most certainly utilizes.

He is a shady man, a con man if you really want to put a label on it considering what he did to Fracture, manipulating and lying to get what he wants. Under protocol he doesn’t have control over you, so he would definitely let you have your “temper tantrum” before he would take any immediate reaction.

He wants you to feel as if you have the upper hand, as if you won. 

Now with you being out of Protocol and not under constant surveillance leaving in the base, he can do as he pleases. 

Opening the door to your flat, you are greeted with the familiar darkness you see everytime you return from your work shifts. Taking off your outer coat you hang it on the coat rack beside the door, taking the time to sleep off your shoes about to turn on the lights. You never consider yourself paranoid, yet the eerie feeling of not being alone began to send a chill down your spine. The room was still dark, silence filled the air as you listened for any noise that would indicate that something was there. Slowly your hand made its way to the light switch, flipping the small white knub up as the lights blasted on. To your horror the last person you wanted to see sat there in the burgundy velvet wingback chair in the living room. The slick back hair, chunky yet expensive glasses frames, that blue silky waistcoat that cost more than the rent you paid, Chamber. Vincent Fabron. “Bonsoir mon chéri. What a nice residence you have…quite old fashioned for my taste, non?” He finally spoke, his signature card in hand as he toyed around with it. “You left so suddenly, not even a goodbye? How inconsiderate considering how close we were.” He rose from his seated position in the chair, stalking forward towards your frozen stature. His eyes remained focused on yours, an unreadable emotion as he continued forth before stopping in front of you. The coy grin he wore on his face as he gazed at your fearful expression with delight. With a small snap the card disappeared from his hands, the golden tattoos lighting up as the object retreated. He stood posed, staring down at you as a wolf to a sheep. “Your little game is over chéri…let us be off.” SOVA:

He always had been doting, trying to accommodate you and make sure that your time at Protocol is pleasant considering what all you have to go through to keep global peace.

He would start to see the hesitance in your eyes, the inner turmoil and battle you had with yourself when things would go awry (totally not around him).

As you resign filling out paperwork to Brimstone who was sad to see you go yet understood where you were coming from, Sova would come across you and Brim. He saw you walk into his office, and concerned he followed. It didn’t take him long to notice the paperwork that laid in front of you, pen in hand. 

Sova, who is always a calm and collected person doesn’t say much yet stands there with that composed expression on his face. Yet if you looked hard enough you could see the way his artificial eye glowed brighter as his jaw clenched.

He would ask to speak to you, nodding his head at Brim who didn’t expect a thing considering how highly regarded Sova is and how much of a good ally he was to him. He would have to settle this himself. 

An unsettling feeling made its way to your gut as you stood up and followed Sova out. The further you walked away from Brim and closer to the door, the more you could feel your freedom slipping from your grasps. The mechanical door slid open allowing you to make your way to Sova who stood down the hallway, a hardened look on his face. He never was this scary, kind and clingy…not like this. Standing in front of him, you looked and finally realized how much bigger he was than you. “Why are you leaving?” He asked, plain and simple. “I-...uh…” You stammered, the words you wanted to say were gone and now incomprehensible. “You do realize that if you leave, you would be in so much danger.” He spoke in a concerned manner, although at this moment you didn’t know it was a mask to cover up his ulterior motives. “If you leave, who knows what could happen to you. You wouldn’t be protected…who knows what your other self could do when omega earth realizes you are no longer with us anymore?” Desperation filled his voice as it wavered in worry. The longer you stared into his eyes, the more guilt you felt. He cares about you, worries about you and this is what you do in return? All he’s ever done was insure your safety and that’s what you’re worried about? “You’re right…I don’t know what I was thinking, thank you Sova.” 

OMEN:

Even though he is the sweetest ever, he is still eery in his own way. Ominous. He isn’t much of a talker and if so he says stuff you can never wrap your mind around. 

He lingers around you, whichever room you're in he somehow is there, cutting his bonsai tree or knitting to remain calm. His presence is one you can’t shake yet it still is uncomfortable when you two are hardly friends.

Deciding to leave Protocol is a hassle itself, one that you most likely won’t even have the chance to do. Omen has some attachment to you and everyone seems to know that even Brim.

Most likely due to his perceptive he is, he knew of your little plan of trying to leave. He would talk with Brimstone trying to talk him into a deal or some type of way to make you stay. You keep him calm, all those voices and nightmarish images he has to live with everyday, you somehow make it bearable. 

When you arrive in Brimstone’s office requesting your resignation, somehow you cannot. Brimstone explains it has something to do with agent confidentiality or the safety, you weren’t really listening. 

Yet you’re stuck.

Standing there under Brimstone’s gaze never upset you, never made you nervous or anxious in any way. It was him who stood there, the walking shadow as he gazed upon your rigid form. Your fists clench to your side, sweat starting to form in your already clammy hands. The whole confrontation was unsettling, not only Brimstone was delivering such disheartful news, you had to endure the shadow that loomed over you. By the time the meeting was done and a final apology was uttered from Brim, he dismissed you. You walked out, form slumped as you were completely saddened by the news. As you made your way to the shared dining facility, you made yourself a cup of tea to calm your nerves down from what had happened. In the corner of your eye you could see the familiar phantom, the inescapable nightmare that you permanently stained your life.. 

BRIMSTONE: 

You’re not making it out of the book with this one. There is no way you could even try to leave considering he is the leader of Protocol and would make up some excuse as to why you couldn’t resign from your role as an agent. 

He makes the rules and no one questions it. Why would they when all he does is look out for his fellow agents and tries to encourage them as much as he can. 

Brim is one stubborn man, one who has committed himself to protecting this earth from all the radianite crises that continue to happen. He had the chance of retiring, starting a family and settling down somewhere in those American suburbs with the perfect life. He will do anything to keep you there. To keep you under him so when this is all over you and he can finally have the life his ex colleagues always talked about.

He is dedicated and with dedication there is nowhere to run or even hide. 

Stepping into Brimstone’s office you meet the gaze of the older man and you stand in front of his desk. His demeanor changed as he sat up in his chair straightening his form and clearing his throat before he began to talk. “You know why I called you in today?” He begun, his fingers laced together as his nose crinkled with a small sniff. “No sir, I do not.” You addressed him formerly even though it wasn’t mandatory. “I heard word from the others about you possibly wanting to leave. Is that true?” Your back stiffened as you felt scrutiny under his gaze. Your mouth went dry, heart stammering in your chest the longer he continued to stare at you. “Yes sir…” A defeated tone you uttered. He shifted his position, a soft sigh escaping his lips as he turned to look back up at you. “Look kid, I can't let you do that. Considering what is all going right now, not only would it be risky for you but with what you know Protocol could be compromised. I’m sorry to deliver this kind of news to you, I know it can be stressful but that is why we're all here…why I’m here.” He stood, walking towards you to place his much larger burly hand on your shoulder. The close proximity unsettled you as silence settled in the room, his deep breaths compared to your shallow fearful ones. “When this is all over you don’t need to worry about all of this. Like I said I’m here for you…I always will be.” It was at that moment you knew your fate was sealed.

[theladyofbloodshed]

Chapter 1

Notes: This is set after the canon events of ACOSF when Nesta and Cassian go to the Prison. Instead of opening the wards to the cells, she ends up in Lunathion. Bryce doesn't exist in this universe and no magic language beans are required.

Nesta could not do more than twitch her fingertips as an invisible, oppressive weight bore into her, like it’d flatten her into dust upon the starry ground of the strange chamber in the Prison.

Let go, she silently bade the Harp, gritting her teeth, fingers brushing over the nearest string. Free me, you blasted thing.

A beautiful, haughty voice answered, full of music so lovely it broke her heart to hear it. I do not appreciate your tone.

With that the Harp pushed into her harder, and Nesta roared silently. Her nail scraped over the string again. Let me go!

Gone was Cassian’s voice. He was kept out by the wards, witnessing it all.

Shall I open a door for you, then?

Yes! Damn you, yes!

It has been a long while, sister, since I played. I shall need time to remember the right combinations…

Don’t play games. Nesta chilled at the word it had used. Sister. Like she and this thing were one and the same.

The small strings are for games—light movement and leaping—but the longer, the final ones … Such deep wonders and horrors we could strum into being. Such great and monstrous magic I wrought with my last minstrel. Shall I show you?

No. Just let me out.

As you wish. Pluck the first string, then.

Nesta didn’t hesitate as her fingertip curled over the first string, grasping and then releasing it. A musical laugh filled her mind, but the weight lifted. Vanished.

And then everything swirled around her like she was being sucked down a plughole into a vast emptiness. The stars on the floor span, turning white with their speed.

Nesta clung to the Harp as wind whipped her face. She was falling – but into what, she didn’t know. It reminded her of the Cauldon, that endless dark, the never-ending cold. Nesta drifted through space and time until she plummeted downwards.

Her body hit stone, taking the wind out of her.

Nesta blinked, trying to right herself. The lights around her were blurred but there was noise – chatter and distant music.

A bright light came towards her. A long, blaring sound pierced her ears. There was a screech and the light stopped feet from her body curled on the stone.

‘What the fuck,’ came a female voice.

Something slammed and footsteps sounded. ‘Are you alright? I nearly hit you. You landed in the middle of the road.’

‘Move back. Official 33rd business,’ a male voice said.  

Nesta was shaking. The bright lights were still in her eyes. Her hip and leg throbbed from the landing.

‘She’s armed, Hunt,’ somebody said.

The male who’d spoken gave a wearied sigh. ‘Ten minutes left of our shift and a fae has to leap in front of a car.’ He stepped closer to her. ‘Hands up. Don’t reach for the sword.’

Something silver and metallic was pointed at her by his hands. The male was fae. Or, looked it. He had wings similar to the Peregryn that she’d met in the Dawn Court with beautiful, grey feathers. Across his brow was a tattoo. Sable hair hung to his shoulders. The other male was slightly shorter with white feathers and fair hair.

Neither was dressed like anybody she’d seen before. Their clothes reminded her slightly of Illyrian leathers but the materials were different.

Nesta looked around, now that her eyes had adjusted to the light. Nobody was dressed in familiar clothing. People had small rectangles in their hands bearing lights and sounds. The fair haired male tutted and started moving them off, saying she was not a spectacle.

‘I’m going to need you to slide that sword over to me in its sheath. Do you understand?’

Where was she? This wasn’t Prythian.

Where are we?

The Harp refused to respond to her, going mute in this strange, new world.

‘Hey,’ the male with grey wings said, not unkindly. ‘Slide it over now.’

Slowly, Nesta reached for Ataraxia and pushed it across the smooth stone towards him. He kept his metal object pointed at her as he bent down and slung her sword over a shoulder.

‘Now your instrument.’

The other male had returned and collected that. He turned it from side to side, examining it. The first handed the sword to him. ‘Fly those to Vik. Get her to run her tests on them. I’ll bring her in.’

***

Ten minutes. That was all they had left after seven days straight. Hunt was looking forward to a glorious day off but Logan had said they should walk back to the 33rd rather than fly. If they flew, they still likely would have seen a female fall from the sky, but they could have pretended it didn’t happen and finished their shift on time. Now, it meant hours of questioning plus paperwork for what he guessed was an undocumented fae who’d rocked up in Lunathion.

The female in question seemed compliant thus far. Hunt hadn’t cuffed her. She was a skinny thing that couldn’t overpower him. From the spike of her ears, she was fae, not human. After basic questioning, they’d likely call in the captain of the aux from the fae side – and Hunt planned to be in his bed by then. Technically, this female had done nothing wrong except fall from the sky with a sword and nearly be hit by a car. It was strange enough though that Micah would demand their heads if they hadn’t brought her in. He was off in the north, summoned by the Asteri. Peace for once.

‘Where are you taking me?’

He kept his hand clasped around her upper arm as they walked. ‘To the 33rd.’

She frowned. ‘The 33rd what?’

Hunt glanced at her. ‘Legion.’

How had she never heard of the 33rd? Who the hell was this?

‘Are you fae?’

She must have hit her head hard. Hunt ushered her along, surveying her for obvious injuries as they went. ‘No. Malakim. Definitely not fae.’

Her silver eyes stared at him then at the ground, processing something. A med-witch would need to see her to remove her concussion.

Hunt led her to one of their interrogation rooms. The white walls looked yellow beneath the lights and she shielded her eyes from it. It was protocol to at least chain her to the table to prevent her from running, but from the bewildered expression on her face, Hunt couldn’t do it.

‘Do you want a coffee?’

‘Coffee?’

‘I’ll get you a coffee,’ he said, offering a tight smile as he backed out of the room.

He met Isaiah in the corridor.

‘Viktoria’s already working on the items. Both are definitely imbued with magic,’ he said by way of greeting. ‘Logan’s filled me in. Fell from the sky?’

‘Yup. Literally.’ Hunt pressed the coffee cup into his hand. ‘I don’t think she knows what coffee is so good luck.’

Isaiah gave a short laugh. ‘Do you think she’s one of the Avallen Fae?’

‘I have no fucking clue where she is from. Another planet by the looks of things.’  

Naomi was waiting behind the interrogation room, computer at the ready. Hunt waited behind the screen of glass too as Isaiah introduced himself and put the cup of coffee in front of her. From the thin frame, Hunt should have grabbed her a snack too. She wore leathers like she was about to do battle. The sword would explain that too – but not the instrument. It seemed to be a common theme that swords were toted by pricks in Lunathion, however this female seemed not too bad so far.

‘What’s your name?’

‘Nesta.’

‘A last name?’

‘Archeron.’

Naomi’s fingers flew over the keyboard. ‘Not a single Archeron in history. Or a Nesta.’

‘I don’t think she’s lying,’ Hunt murmured. It would be a strange name to make up. Better if she gave a common one.

Isaiah spoke gently. ‘What house are you aligned with, Nesta?’

Nesta blinked a few times then, ‘Uh. The House of Wind.’

There was another click of keys beside him then Naomi drew a blank again.

‘What can your magic do?’

‘I don’t have magic.’

‘Why do you have a magical Harp?’

‘I’m a bard.’

The delivery was so flat from Nesta that Hunt couldn’t help but snort with laughter.

Isaiah’s wings flexed at the table. ‘Will you play for me?’

Nesta inspected her nails. ‘I don’t play for free.’

‘What’s the sword for?’

‘When people don’t pay me,’ she quipped.

This female had woken up and found her dry sense of humour then. Hunt examined her through the glass. She didn’t look like the fae of Lunathion. The majority had the same colouring as the king – red hair, tanned skin. Others were brown-haired. The prince was a rarity with black hair, but not unheard of. It tended to be the Avallen fae who were blonde. She certainly fitted the description for now with a limited knowledge of technology; she’d stared at everybody’s cell-phones with utmost confusion. But even Avallen fae knew how to use technology when they left their misty isles.

‘Which king did you pledge allegiance to?’

At that, Nesta gave a harsh laugh. ‘None of them and I never will.’

‘Who is the king of Avallen?’

‘Fionn,’ she said, brandishing her hands in the air with disinterest.

‘Danaan is here,’ a voice said over the intercom. ‘Sending him down.’

Ruhn Danaan was captain of the fae auxiliary unit and exemplified what it meant to be a fae prick. One day, he’d also be their king. And Hunt could not stand him.

He swaggered in, tongue flicking against his lip-ring. ‘This better be good, Athalar.’

Hunt gestured to Nesta Archeron currently stonewalling Isaiah as he attempted to interrogate her on her origins.

‘Don’t know her,’ he said with a shrug. ‘Wish I did.’

‘Is she one of the Avallen fae?’

‘No idea,’ replied Ruhn in a blasé tone. Hunt could stink alcohol on him. Likely the prince had been with his little pals doing what they did best and partying until dawn.

Sensing his frustrations, Naomi stepped in. ‘She fell from the sky. There’s no record of her family name in the history of Midgard. Nesta isn’t aligned to any house, seemingly has no knowledge of Lunathion. She cannot name either fae king – but did mention Fionn. She came with a sword imbued with magic – and a Harp.’

Ruhn finally took notice. He leaned closer to the glass, nose almost touching it. ‘Her eyes are silver.’

‘A fascinating conclusion, Danaan.’

‘Let me talk to her.’  

It was Isaiah’s call so he allowed the prince into the interrogation room, claiming that not only was he fae royalty which gave Ruhn a pass to do what he liked in the city, but also a member of the aux. When he entered, Nesta knew him. Her eyes went wide then she stared down at her lap, murmuring something to herself.

‘Hi,’ said Ruhn who turned the chair around and leant his chest against the back. ‘Your coffee’s going cold.’

Nesta raised the cup to her mouth to take a sip then promptly spat it back out. ‘That’s vile.’

‘Need sugar?’

She folded her arms across her body. Anybody else would have called for their lawyer now or asked what they were being charged with. The thought hadn’t crossed her mind. Nesta seemed more interested in the security camera and even the lights above her head.

‘Are you high fae?’ she asked Ruhn.

‘I’m fae,’ he said. ‘Vanir. What other Vanir do you know?’

Nesta swallowed. Eventually, she suggested, ‘Illyrians?’

Ruhn gave an encouraging nod and lied that he knew them. Beside Hunt, Naomi was doing her best to search for the term.

‘Who else?’

‘Peregryns.’

‘Yeah. Peregryns.’ Ruhn gave another nod. ‘Those big birds that brought you to the 33rd. What are they?’

‘Malakim.’

Which she only knew because Hunt had told her.

‘What’s Sabine?’

‘I don’t know her,’ she replied.

Well, shit. She definitely was not from Lunathion because everybody knew Sabine, unfortunately. Naomi’s laptop made a pinging sound. ‘Toxicology report. Nothing in her system. Not even a drop of alcohol. Definitely no drugs.’

On arrival, the on-duty med-witch had given her a once over but had not found any major injuries beyond a few bruises from her heavy landing.

Isaiah drummed his fingers on his watch face. ‘We can’t hold her for anything. By rights, we’ve held her longer than necessary with nothing to charge her for.’

‘She’s clearly not from here.’

‘I know,’ he said. ‘But I’m reluctant to call Micah back until we have full specs on the items that she brought with her.’

‘We can keep those for a week,’ said Naomi.

Ruhn emerged from the room, shaking his head. He ran a hand through his long, black hair. ‘She’s fae. Definitely. No idea where she’s from though.’ Ruhn pulled out his cell.

‘Calling daddy?’

He threw Hunt a grin. ‘Not a chance. I’ll keep her at mine.’

‘No,’ said Hunt with a snort. ‘Do you think we’ll hand over a disorientated female to you and your little pals?’

‘Careful with what you’re insinuating, angel.’

Isaiah cleared his throat. ‘Until we know more, Nesta Archeron is a free citizen of Lunathion, not under anyone’s jurisdiction.’

‘She’s fae,’ Ruhn insisted. ‘She answers to my father.’

‘You didn’t hear her, Danaan,’ Hunt said, fighting the grin from his face. ‘She’s pledged allegiance to no king and never will.’

‘Hunt, discharge her. Ruhn, I wonder if you could take a look at the sword,’ asked Isaiah, guiding the prince out of the room.

Hunt cared little for the fae but he wasn’t going to send a lone female who had no clue where she was to the Ruhn Danaan home for parties and orgies. He took up Ruhn’s vacated seat, also sitting backwards on it at the table. Nesta watched him closely.

‘How do you know Ruhn?’

‘I don’t,’ she replied, voice clipped.

‘You looked like you did.’

Nesta furrowed her brow. ‘I thought he was somebody else.’

Hunt nodded his head towards the cup. ‘You didn’t like my coffee?’

‘It was foul.’

‘Oof. No offence taken.’ He began writing out her discharge forms, explaining them to her as he wrote. It would go under a section two; the 33rd reserved the right to question any citizen at any time without reason or without consequence. Anybody from Lunathion would have kicked up a fuss over how long they’d been held for. This one had no cell, no purse, no identification, literally nothing on her person so she likely didn’t know her rights. ‘You can collect your items in a week.’

That was if they found nothing they could charge her for.

‘A week? I need the Harp.’

‘Playing in a tavern?’

Hunt glanced up at her then jerked back. Her eyes were swirling. They looked as if silver flames were trapped within, writhing to get to the surface.  

‘You’re free to go, Nesta. I’ll see you out.’

The walk out of the Comitium was just as interesting. The most inane technology snagged her attention. At the coffee machine, she came to a halt to stare at it in wonder then in the waiting room, her eyes catalogued the television screens, jaw hanging open.

‘Don’t worry. You won’t miss Fangs and Bangs.’

Nesta opened her mouth to say something then the phone rang in the office. That also hooked her attention. She was child-like in her wonder as a malakh answered the phone.

‘That device allows you to communicate?’

Hunt touched two fingers to her forehead. The temperature seemed fine. ‘Try and see a med-witch. Have them check you over for concussion.’

He held the door open for her as she stumbled off into the blackness, just as perplexed as she’d been when they’d found her in the road.

Nesta wasn’t Hunt’s duty. His shift should have ended two hours ago. He was a slave, but a slave who could be off-duty – especially when Micah was out of town. Yet, he couldn’t stop the sense of dread from clawing in his chest as he watched Nesta amble aimlessly into the night.

This female would cause him a headache.

 ***

Seven days.

Nesta needed to survive seven days with only the clothes on her back in this strange city. There were worse places that she could have arrived to. The dungeon had not truly been a dungeon. It lacked the prowling beasts of the Hewn City. The only issue had been how bright the lights were. They hadn’t been the faelights that Rhysand conjured.

There were more lights hanging from towering metal poles on the smooth roads. There were still many out in the darkness but not all of them were fae. Some were like animals with cloven hooves instead of feet or caprine horns that jutted out from their hair.

Nesta didn’t know what to make of it.

She’d left Cassian calling her name in the Prison. Now she was in Lunathion. Wherever that was.

The city was so noisy.

Nesta needed space to think and to breathe so she fought her way out of the densest areas of the city towards a massive river. The sounds of it calmed her. She crossed over it, into the darker area where it felt more peaceful. Nesta sucked in breaths, thinking of Gwyn and her teachings to focus on the inhales and exhales and nothing else. That was easier said than done in a foreign land with no allies, no weapons, and no way back to Velaris.

Something was moving across the bridge towards her.

It made her skin prickle.

It wasn’t walking. It was gliding.

Her hand reached over her shoulder for the pommel of her sword and remembered it had been taken.

The creature made a low, gurling sound from the back of its throat then reached out a grey hand stripped of flesh in places.

Nesta backed up a step, but more were behind her, moving in that same eerie way without a sound.

The air went static.

A bolt of lightning hit the ground which forced one of the creatures to retreat.

The male who’d chaperoned her to the Comitium landed between her and the bulk of the creatures. Lightning wreathed his hands. His hair rose from the static.

‘You will not feast this night.’

Hunt jerked his chin at her, summoning Nesta to him. An arm clamped around her shoulders then he pushed off from the floor. As they lifted off, his other arm swooped beneath the back of her knees.

The motion was surprisingly fluid. Nesta did what she always did if Cassian flew her and put her arms around his neck for support.

‘What were they?’

‘Reapers,’ he replied. ‘I’m guessing you don’t have them where you come from.’

‘We have creatures just as foul.’

‘Yeah. Well, maybe don’t go for a midnight meeting with the Under-king if you want to see the dawn, Nesta.’ Hunt flew them a short distance then landed back amongst the lights on poles. He kept one hand clasped around her wrist like she might run while pulling one of the metal rectangles from his pocket. It displayed numbers that he tapped. His thumb moved down the screen, the words it showed flew by too quick for Nesta to read. ‘It’s Athalar. As you said, she’s one of your kind. She needs to be put up in a hotel.’ A pause. ‘Near the Dead Gate. I’ve flown her near Jesiba Roga’s house of horrors, but she’ll end up wandering through the meat market if I leave her.’ Hunt gave a mirthless laugh. ‘Either a hotel or the barracks with me, but not a chance I’m leaving her in your custody.’

Hunt slid the device into his back pocket. ‘The prince of pricks is booking you a hotel for the night. You hungry?’

The malakh lifted her into the air again to cross the city. They returned to the huge building where he had first taken her but did not stay long. Nesta was told to wait in the corridor outside a room while Hunt retrieved a bag of items. They stopped off at a restaurant along the way while he waited for news from the prince of pricks, whoever that was.

‘Noodles,’ he said, gesturing to the flimsy packaging.

Nesta stared down at them. They reminded her of yellow strings but there were chunks of meat and vegetables amongst them and a sweet-smelling sauce that made her ravenous. Hunt paid for it all, including the drink that was filled with bubbles.

‘Not a fan of coffee, but you like soda,’ he said between mouthfuls.

‘It is so sweet.’

‘Yeah because it’s all sugar.’

Nesta slurped it down, not caring if the ice hurt her teeth.

Hunt pulled the device – a cell phone – from his pocket. ‘Danaan came through. Let’s go.’

The lodgings were nice. One of those moving portrait boxes was hung on the wall and Hunt pressed a button on another rectangle to make it work. He pressed a few more buttons, the portraits changing rapidly.

‘Here we go. Fangs and Bangs, as promised.’

There was a half-naked female on the screen lounging on a long chair near a body of water. A male, equally as bare and bronze, was discussing their relationship beside her.

‘What do all of those buttons do?’

Hunt shrugged one shoulder. ‘Nobody knows. That’s volume. Channel up and down. On and off.’

‘It controls it?’

‘Yes. A remote. Where the hell did you come from Nesta?’

Nesta said nothing. She couldn’t bear to think of the people she had left behind. There was no guarantee that the Harp would be returned to her or it would even let her pluck a string to return to Velaris.

‘Bathroom’s through there. This is a key card. You press it to that black panel on the door handle to get in but try not to leave tonight, alright. I don’t want to retrieve your body from the Istros in the morning.’ Hunt blew out a breath. ‘Get some sleep. I’ll be by in the morning.’

Despite the day she had endured, the sight of the bed with tightly-pulled white sheets was calling to her. As soon as she hit that pillow, Nesta would be out.

Hunt rummaged in the bag that he’d collected from the Comitium. There were soft, grey pants and a white top. ‘For you to sleep in. There are slits on the back for my wings, but it will be comfier than those,’ he said, pointing to her leathers. ‘I don’t know how you breathe in that.’

‘Thank you, Hunt,’ replied Nesta, clutching the clothes to her body.

‘Tomorrow, we will talk. Off the record. About you.’ He swept his hair from his face. ‘I want to help but I can’t if you’re not honest with me. Sleep well.’   

[fiapartridge]

💌can I suggest this with Jack Hughes? (Could really use maybe a comfort as reader has a panic attack?)

jack hughes x fem!reader

warning(s): panic attack, feeling suffocated

summary: waiting for jack after electric games had never been this hard before...

fia's notes 💌: hii! i've never written about panic attacks so i hope i wrote it as accurately as i could've. these things are different for everyone, so i just tried to write from my own experiences with them. if you get triggered by these things, maybe skip out on this one <3

The Prudential Center was alive with the echoes of the final horn, the crowd erupting into a thunderous roar as the game reached its end. Amidst the jubilation, you stood in the lobby, your heart racing with a different kind of intensity. You scanned the crowd anxiously, searching for a familiar face amidst the sea of fans.

You had always met Jack near the locker room after games, but this time, it felt packed and crowded. You felt suffocated and tossed around like a meaningless entity. 

As the noise engulfed you, panic tightened its grip around your heart. Your breath came in short, shallow gasps, your chest constricting with each passing moment. You stumbled, your legs threatening to give out as the world spun around you. Pushing through heavy bodies and shouting fans, you held your shaking hands against a cool wall, turning around and sliding your back against it and down to the ground.

You couldn’t see straight, your eyes were clouded with tears, and your chest couldn’t stop heaving. It felt like a nightmare that you couldn’t wake up from. Without looking up, you heard a worried voice from above. “Hey, hey, it’s okay,” Nico’s voice ripped through the chaos. He bent down a little ways away from you, too scared to touch you in fear of making things worse. “Hey!” he yelled at someone you couldn’t make out. “Go get Jack right now!”

You pulled your knees tight to your chest, your forehead resting against them as you shook uncontrollably, your sobs growing more intensely. You gasped for breath, reaching for air like it was some sort of reward that you had to compete for. Still shaking and trying to calm down your body, not wanting to make a bigger scene than you already were, you didn’t notice the large hand gently placed on your knee. He sat close but not too close that you would be overwhelmed.

"It's okay, you’re okay, Y/N,” he spoke softly. "You're safe. You’re with me—Jack," he whispered, his voice a beacon of calm in the chaos of the lobby. "I'm here with you. Just focus on my voice, okay? You're okay."

Hearing his name was like seeing a small island in a raging storm. It was there, and you felt a moment of peace, but the storm was still pelting down on you as you clung to him desperately, your fingers grasping at the fabric of his hoodie as tears pricked at the corners of your eyes. "I-I can't... I can't breathe," you panicked.

Jack held you gently, murmuring words of reassurance as he stroked your hair in soothing circles. He pressed a tender kiss to your forehead, his lips warm against your skin. “Can you breathe with me?” he asked, not getting a response back. These moments always scared Jack, and you were always scared that these episodes would be too much for him; that he would leave you because of it, but that’s not why he was scared. He was scared that he couldn’t get you out of it; that he wasn’t what you needed. Boyfriends were meant to be protectors, they were meant to keep you safe, but if he couldn’t do that, then what good was he? Despite these fears, he was always the only one that could bring you back to shore. “Come on, baby. Can you breathe with me?”

You nodded weakly, trying to focus on Jack's voice. The lobby was almost cleared out by now, just a couple stragglers left, watching the scene from a distance. The moment was sure to be blasted on the internet later, but that was the least of your problems right now. Right now, you just had to get through this, one step at a time. 

With each shaky inhale, you attempted to match the rhythm of his breathing, drawing in air in sync with him. "That's it," Jack encouraged. "Just focus on your breath. In... and out...You're safe," he whispered again. “You’re with me. You always have me.”

Slowly, gradually, the frantic pace of your breathing began to ease, the tightness in your chest loosening as you followed Jack's lead. His presence beside you was a comfort, grounding you in reality amidst the whirlwind of panic threatening to consume you.

As you continued to breathe together, the panic began to subside, replaced by a sense of calm born from the safety of Jack's embrace. You clung to him like a lifeline, your fingers curling into the fabric of his hoodie as you sought refuge from the storm raging within your mind.

"Better?" Jack asked softly, his voice filled with concern as he gently brushed a stray tear from your cheek.

You nodded, your breathing steadier now, though your heart still raced with the lingering effects of the panic attack. "Thank you," you whispered, your voice barely above a hoarse whisper.

Jack leaned in closer, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. "Don’t thank me. I'm always here for you," he murmured.

Your lips curled up softly, your head resting against his chest as he pulled you in closer. Despite it all; despite the fears and the panic and the intensity, you were never alone. You always had Jack.

[beanxiv]

NAGI X READER WHEN HE CALLS THEM A PAIN AND THEY GET SAD SO HE COMFORT THEM -🌷 anon

waiting ; nagi seishiro ✩࿐

warnings: hurt/comfort (im so bad at writing hurt/comfort so pretend this is good), petnames, nagi being mean (at the beginning), communication issues :/, established relationship

notes: nagi is definitely the type to bottle in all of his frustration and then take it out on you unintentionally, but its ok i can change him.

wc: 1.9k

"sei, can we watch a movie together?" you sit on one end of the couch while nagi lays on his stomach next to you (feet by your thighs and head facing the opposite arm rest) taking up the rest of the couch. his nose is buried in his phone screen, explosions and other video game sounds blasting from the speaker.

"uhhm, 'kay. lemme finish this round." your boyfriend mumbles, not bothering to look over his shoulder at you.

you sigh, but decide to stay patient. "okay, baby." you fiddle with the tv remote as you wait. when a couple minutes pass you tilt your head to glimpse at nagi's face. "done yet, shiro?"

"no. wait."

you frown, "okay.. but you've been playing for an hour before i asked you to watch a movie and you said you'd finish this round fifteen minutes ago."

"oh, my bad. i accidentally started a new round. i have t'finish the round now, can't pause an online game. just gimme a few more minutes." he still barely acknowledges you, nothing more than a slight shrug of his shoulders.

when another ten minutes pass your patience starts to wear thin. "seishiro, do you want to watch a movie together or—"

"i said wait a few minutes. the round is still goin— ah, fuck! you made me die.." nagi clicks his tongue in annoyance. pushing up off his elbows to sit up and angrily tossing his phone on the carpet. "goddamn, y/n. you're such a pain sometimes."

you blink, an ache building deep in your chest. "what?" you swallow the lump in your throat away. "i asked you if you wanted to watch a movie. you said yes and told me to wait. i waited fifteen minutes and asked again. you told me to wait. i waited again. i stayed patient for thirty minutes. now you're calling me a pain? after barely even looking at me today? you haven't talked to me since you came home from practice three hours ago!" you scoff in spite of yourself, "..really, seishiro. if you wanted space, you could have told me."

you see the weight of nagi's words start to process in his eyes, "shit— i didn't mean that, y/n. wait—"

"i'm tired of waiting, nagi." with that you slide off the couch and walk into your shared bedroom, slamming the door shut before nagi can see tears of frustration threaten to spill over your eyes.

when the door shuts loudly nagi flinches but doesn't move from the couch. he sits there, swearing under his breath and running a hand down his face. "i'm such a fucking idiot.." he wishes he could kick himself for his stupid mouth. the image of your face completely falling into bitter sorrow when he called you a pain replays in his head. regret freezes his veins, and his own heart starts to ache each time your expression fills his brain.

he swears at himself again before jumping off the couch and rushing to your shared bedroom. he hesitates but manages to knock twice on the door.

"y/n, baby. i'm so sorry. please," he chews on his lip. please what? he doesn't even know what he's asking for. please open the door, please forgive me, or please talk to me? he doesn't know. he'll take any option at the moment.

he hears you shuffle to the door and sniff. are you crying? his heart breaks a little bit more at the thought of you hurt because of his idiocy.

"nagi, i meant what i said." you still haven't opened the door. but talking through the wood is better than nothing. "i'm tired of this. it's not the first time this has happened. you've ignored me a lot before. i understand if you want time for yourself, i do too sometimes. but don't tell me you're going to do something with me and not mean it."

"i know, y/n. i'm sorry, i just.." nagi isn't known for his way with words. he's not used to voicing his every thought. but he's willing to make the effort to fix his mistake and make it up to you. "practice sucked today. i was in a shitty mood after and i took it out on you when i shouldn't have."

he hears you sigh. the lock on the door clicks and you pull the door open. nagi searches your face for any indication of your reaction. his heart drops at the sight of your red, puffy eyes and tear-stained cheeks.

he wants to pull you tight against himself— kiss the hurt away— but he holds himself in place. he doesn't want to push his limits until you completely forgive him.

"why didn't you just tell me? we've been dating for so long now, do you still not feel comfortable enough to tell me things?"

"no! i do. i just— today was so stressful, i just wanted to lock myself up in the house and play games to get my mind off of it. i didn't realize i'd been ignoring you all day, i'm sorry."

you let out a laugh that doesn't quite reach your eyes, "see? nagi, you could have told me all of this hours ago. none of this would have happened." you have a bitter look in your eyes that tells nagi you're still upset. "it would've been that easy. just a simple 'hey, y/n i had a rough day today, and i'm not really in the mood to do anything today.' and i would have respected that and moved on."

he steps forward and takes your hands in his, "angel, i'm sorry. really sorry for calling you a pain. i swear i didn't mean it. it was— i was projecting my frustration onto you when i should have just communicated it and found an output a different way. you're the farthest thing from a pain. you're— you're honestly the reason why i'm living my life," nagi breathes out a laugh. "if it weren't for you my routine would just be wake up, football, games, eat, sleep, repeat. and not only that, you're beautiful, inside and out. and you make me laugh, and you make really good food for me, and you help me take care of choki. actually, not only that— you help me take care of myself too. honestly, i don't know if i could survive without you, y/n. so please, please forgive me, angel."

you chew on your bottom lip, "nagi—"

nagi winces, "and please stop calling me that."

this pulls a ghost of a smile onto your lips which sends a flutter through nagi's heart. you think to yourself for a moment and the smile fades slightly. "seishiro, a relationship works two ways. you know that. for it to work you have to talk to me. tell me everything— if practice went well, tell me. if it was absolute shit, still tell me. if you feel like doing something, tell me. if you don't, tell me again. i didn't start dating you just for the title, sei. i want to be with you. i want to know what makes you happy, what stresses you out— i want to know everything you'll allow me to. in exchange, i'll trust you with my heart too."

nagi presses his lips together in a tight line, "i trust you with everything. you know i do. fuck, i trust you with some things more than i trust myself." nagi sighs through his nose, his eyes a window of rare vulnerability. a window that opened only for you. "i can tell you anything, y/n, i know i can. i just don't know how. it's not something i do. i mean before you moved in with me, i lived alone during high school-- until blue lock-- and i didn't talk to anyone except reo in school. i'm not used to talking about myself and what's on my mind. the only thing i ever spilled my thoughts to was choki— my cactus for fucks sake," nagi laughs dryly. he felt pathetic telling you something so stupid. it reminded him why he kept his heavier thoughts to himself. but...

"well, you have me now. ah, and choki too if it helps," is that a smile? you're smiling— only slightly, but a smile nonetheless.

does that mean you've forgiven him? no... even if you do forgive him, he still owes you a proper apology. he wont let you walk away without it.

"i think you're a better listener than choki," nagi admits. when he expected you to scoff in his face and turn away, you stayed and continued talking with him. "i just took to long to understand that. and i promise to work on it. i'm sorry, angel. i never want to hurt you, i only want to see you happy."

"thank you, 'shiro." you murmur, finally looking up at him. nagi searches your expression for any remnants of pain and he sees none, as soon as he sees the soft look in your eyes he exhales, all of his worry leaving his chest. you smile slightly, squeezing his hand a bit. "i accept your apology. and ill try to be patient too, i understand it takes time to completely share all of your thoughts and feelings, so i won't push if you don't want to tell me anything, but at least tell me that much if you don't feel like talking."

nagi nods, "i will. i promise, i swear i'll work on it. thank you, yn. thank you for forgiving me." he can't help himself anymore, and pulls you snug to his chest, his arms right around your waist as he buries his head into the crook of your neck. "i love tou so much.. i would beat myself up if i lost you because i'm a moron."

you giggle a bit, your hand coming up to card through his hair. "mhm, you are kind of a moron."

"yeah?" nagi chuckles back, sighing softy. you feel his breath fan against your neck and pull him from the crook of your neck to look at him.

"yeah, you are. but as long as we both work on communicating, we'll be okay." a grin tugs at your lips as you look at your boyfriend.

nagi nods, his soft white hair swishing a bit as he does. "i promise t'communicate better, angel. or at least i'll try my best for you."

"and that's all i'm asking for," you murmur, the grin still on your face as you lean towards nagi to plant a kiss on his lips.

nagi returns your kiss before pulling away to look at you, "you wanted t'watch a movie together earlier.. right?"

"are you sure?" you chew on your lip, looking at him with a furrow between your brows that he wants to kiss away. "if you're still not feeling up to it, it's oka-"

"i want to," nagi interrupts, pulling you in by your waist to kiss between your brows. "so let's go cuddle and watch something."

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