#the leader who kept everything together

[dionysus2xborn]

hc for the crossover fic to come

so a random idea came to me the other day i was wearing a wife beater that had some stain that looked like blood and i remembered, ‘ah, yes thats because it is because your a clutz but then i was like first off Nigel is so that chaotic mess bitch to do that and second would he not also fuck with Henry? i think he’d loooove fucking with him. so what if he purposely wore the very same wife beater he had on for the murder, stained with blood and everything and just acts nonchalant about it. Whole time giving him that face, yall know that face. The eyes! ugh! i can seeeee it!!!! Henry would seem calm but be like THIS MOTHER FUCKERRRRR on the inside. 

(this is a jot. this line just really butters my biscuit. *giggle*) Only, it was a wife beater after all, but he looked like Bunny and his inadvertent blood splatters had been on par with a dog that just pissed on his new gucci loafers. thots? (and prayers, these hoes need jesus)

[rmview]

they beg to be taken back, SKZ.

featuring — stray kids members x gn!reader ( masterlist )

summary — a reaction of how the stray kids boys realize they can’t live without you, and come to beg you for a second chance!

contents — angst, mentions of fights, possible reconciliation.

bang ♢ chan

bang chan had always been composed, the leader who held everyone together. but when you broke up with him, the cracks in his armor showed. he respected your decision and convinced himself that it was for the best, despite the emptiness growing unbearable.

he wasn’t himself since and the people around him began to notice. the usual spark in his eyes dimmed, and the weight of your absence felt suffocating. he replayed the last argument over and over in his head, agonizing over what he could’ve done differently. but as much as he respected your decision, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he needed to try, just one more time, to fight for what you both had.

it was late when he showed up at your doorstep, his hand hovering over the doorbell. when you answered, you were more than surprised to see him standing there, his shoulders slightly hunched as if he was carrying the weight of the world. his hair was disheveled, eyes rimmed red. he looked like he hadn’t slept in days.

“chan? what are you doing here?” the nickname slipped from your lips almost too easily and you suppressed the urge to recoil. being around him — being his, was too easy. even with the two months apart, one look into his eyes was all it took for everything to come rushing back.

“i… i needed to see you,” he said, his voice trembling slightly and his australian accent slightly thicker, which was a sign of his nervousness. “i know you said that it’s over, but i can’t accept it — not without trying to make things right.”

you felt something in your chest lurch, and for a few moments you were rendered speechless. a large part of you wanted to forget the fight and what lead up to it, but the smaller part of you kept reminding you of how alone he made you feel despite being together. “we’ve already talked about this. you need to let me go. i... i don’t want to go back to feeling the way i did.”

he shook his head, his eyes glassy with unshed tears. “i can’t just let you go,” he admitted, his voice cracking. “i know i messed up. i wasn’t there for you when you needed me most, i treated you like another responsibility, and i hate myself for it. but please, give me a chance to prove that i can do better. i can’t lose you like this.”

“chan…” you looked away, your heart breaking at the vulnerability in his voice. your own eyes blurred with tears and you tried to blink them away.

“i know i’m asking a lot,” he continued, taking a tentative step closer. his hands itched with the need to reach out for your waist; the feeling of your skin under his palms a muscle memory. “but i love you. i love you more than anything, and i can’t imagine my life without you in it. tell me what i need to do, and i’ll do it. just… don’t give up on us.”

his desperation was raw and unfiltered, and it was clear that he’d spent every waking moment thinking about this moment. whether you took him back or not, he was determined to fight for you until the very end.

felix ♢

felix was a wreck after the breakup. the ever-present sunshine in his personality dimmed, replaced by a quiet sadness that the others noticed but didn’t know how to fix. he replayed the moments leading up to your decision endlessly, wondering where he went wrong. no matter how hard he tried to respect your choice and acknowledge his mistakes, his heart refused to let it go.

one rainy evening, he found himself standing in the reception office of your workplace while soaked to the bone. he didn’t care that the receptionist was eyeing him in annoyance for dripping on the floors, or that he looked homeless from his red-rimmed eyes and masked face. when you finally made your way down after a call from your superiors, you were shocked.

“felix? what the hell?” you whisper-yelled, your voice laced with concern despite the shock as you grasped his arms to lead him to the bathrooms instead of the ac-blasting reception so he wouldn’t get sick.

“i had to see you,” he said, his voice trembling. both from the cold and his overwhelming feelings. “i couldn’t just… let it end like that.”

you sighed, grasping his freezing hands in yours and holding it under the hot air of the hand drier, not caring that you were in the men’s room. felix couldn’t care less either as he momentarily basked in the feeling of your soft hands in his after so long. “i know i hurt you, and i hate myself for it. but i can’t let you go without telling you how much you mean to me.”

“and you thought this was the smartest way to do it? by getting yourself sick?” you shook your head, trying to keep your emotions in check. he broke your heart, you tried to remind yourself to keep yourself steely. it didn’t work.

“i know i made mistakes,” he continued, his voice breaking as he sniffled and you avoided his gaze and chalked it up to the cold. “i wasn’t there for you the way i should have been. but you… you’re everything to me. you’re the reason i smile, the reason i wake up in the morning. please, tell me how to fix this.”

his vulnerability was heart-wrenching and you felt your own eyes blur through your silence. felix didn’t look away from you the entire time, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. “i’ll do anything, anything to make things right. just… don’t walk away from me. from us.”

as the rain continued to pour outside, felix stood there, baring his soul to you. he wasn’t just asking for forgiveness — he was offering every piece of himself, hoping it would be enough to convince you to take him back.

lee ♢ know

lee know was stubborn by nature, and after the breakup, he tried to convince himself he didn’t need anyone. he put on a brave face around the others, burying himself in practice and work. taking on excess time to keep his mind off you worked for a while, but even then every time he went home to the empty silence of his apartment, your absence hit him like a freight train.

his members began to notice his stubbornness and attempt to dismiss your relationship, giving him the space he needed as they hoped he’d work through it. but it began to become clear he was taking the ostrich’s way out — burying his head in the sand and pretending everything was fine.

it took weeks for him to swallow his pride and realize he didn’t want to deal with the emptiness anymore. the fight was so stupid and you were the love of his life, so why weren’t you together right now?

he wasn’t one to beg, but losing you was something he slowly realized he couldn’t bear. and so one evening after heavy contemplation, he found himself standing outside your apartment door, clutching his phone in one hand and a small bouquet of your favorite flowers in the other.

when you opened the door, you paused and your eyes widened in surprise. your treacherous heart missed a beat and you attempted to school your expression to normal. “minho? what are you doing here?”

“i, uh, i needed to see you,” he said, his usual cool demeanor replaced with a hesitance you rarely saw.

your mind flashed with the hurtful words he threw at you during the argument and you crossed your arms, leaning against the doorframe. “i thought we agreed that separating was for the best.”

“maybe i thought so at first,” he admitted, his voice soft but firm. “but i don’t think i can do this anymore. i can’t pretend that i’m okay being without you because i’m not.”

“minho…” you started, looking away as you didn’t know what to say.

“i know i don’t say it enough,” he interrupted, his gaze dropping to the ground. “but i love you. i loved you then, and i love you now. and i hate that i let you go without fighting for you. i hate that i was so stupid.”

“you hurt me,” you said, a slight wobble in your voice that you attempted to mask with by clearing your throat softly. but the hurt in your eyes was hard to miss. “i can’t just forget that.”

“i know,” he said, stepping closer. he put the flowers down on the floor by your feet as he took your hands in his, his palms warm. “and i don’t expect you to. but i want to make it up to you. i’ll do whatever it takes to earn your trust again. because i mean it when i say i won’t make the same mistakes again.”

he squeezed your palms softly, bringing your fingers up to his lips. “i know i’m not the best at showing how much you mean to me. but you do — more than anything. and if there’s even the smallest part of you that still feels the same way, please… give me another chance.”

it wasn’t easy for lee know to open up like this, but the thought of losing you for good outweighed his fear of vulnerability and hesitance. whether or not you decided to take him back, he was determined to show you just how much you meant to him.

hyun ♢ jin

hyunjin wasn’t one to wear his heart on his sleeve, but the breakup managed to shatter the carefully built walls around his emotions. he threw himself into his art and practice, hoping it would drown out the ache in his chest. but no matter how many brushstrokes he painted or routines he perfected, nothing could fill the void you’d left behind.

while hoping to take a walk on evening , hyunjin mindlessly ended up walking into your favorite park, the place where you’d spent countless nights talking about dreams and fears. as usual, you were there sitting on the same bench you’d share, a book on your lap but your mind and gaze were elsewhere.

hyunjin stood there for a few moments, unable to look away until your wandering gaze settled on him. you paused, startled to see him there, his usually confident posture replaced by a tentative nervousness as he slowly walked to you.

“hyunjin?” you looked up at him, unsure if you should address him in public since your relationship was over. he was dressed in black, a mask covering the bottom half of his face, but you recognized him immediately.

he hesitated for aa moment before he sat down beside you, a small bittersweet smile tugging at his lips even though you couldn’t see it. “i wasn’t sure you’d be here,” he admitted.

“i didn’t know you’d be here either,” you replied cautiously, fidgeting with your book in your lap. would you have come if you knew? maybe, maybe not.

he took a deep breath, his gaze locking onto you even though you wouldn’t look back at him. “i just... i needed to see you. i can’t keep pretending i’m okay with this when i’m not.”

“hyunjin, we’ve already talked about this…”

“i know,” he interrupted, his voice heavy with emotion. “but i can’t let it end like this. i know i hurt you really bad, and i hate myself for it every day. i thought i was protecting you from this life and me, but all i did was push you away.”

your fingers softly tightened around the book, trying to calm yourself against the raw emotion in his voice. “it’s not that simple.”

“i know it’s not,” he said, scooting slightly closer. he couldn’t take his eyes off you. you were so pretty. “but i love you. i’ve always loved you, even when i was too scared to show it. and if there’s even a small part of you that still cares about me and what we had, then please… let me try to fix this.”

his voice broke as he added, “i’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you if i have to. just… don’t give up on us. not yet.”

you finally looked up at him and your breath hitched at the proximity. the vulnerability in hyunjin’s eyes was almost too much for you to bear. he wasn’t just asking for forgiveness — he was offering every piece of himself, hoping it would be enough to convince you to give him one last chance. he wouldn’t lose you again.

i.n ♢

jeongin had never experienced heartbreak like this before. the breakup ended up hitting him harder than he ever thought possible. he spent days replaying the fight you both had in his head, wondering how he could’ve done things differently. his hyungs tried their best to cheer him up, but their efforts only seemed to highlight the emptiness he felt without you.

you were his first relationship, his first kiss, his first love and the woman he thought he’d marry some day. he’d questioned his success as an idol, he’d question his talents — but the lifetime of your relationship was one thing he never had to question. so to have that one dream shattered was more than the average heartbreak. jeongin would probably never date again.

only nine days had passed since you left, and after those 200 hours, jeongin couldn’t take it anymore. he knew your schedule in and out, and he knew exactly where you’d be on a weekend evening at 5.

he showed up at your favorite café, the place where you’d spent countless afternoons together and took a seat at the very booth you’d always sit at, counting down the minutes to when you’ll show up.

so when you walked in and spotted him sitting at your usual table, his nervous smile and the familiar warmth in his eyes caught you off guard.

“jeongin?” you asked cautiously as you approached, looking around the almost empty area. “what are you doing here?”

he stood up quickly, his hands fidgeting as he spoke, wanting to reach out to you. “hi. i… i wasn’t sure if you’d come here today, but i had to take the chance.”

you hesitated, unsure of what to say. it had barely been over a week since your breakup. “what do you want?”

“i want to apologize,” he said earnestly, his voice quiet but steady. he had already made up his mind. “and to ask for another chance.”

“jeongin, we already talked about this,” you replied, shaking your head softly. the argument was still fresh in your mind and you didn’t plan to give in anytime soon. yet one look into his puppy-like eyes was all it took. damn.

“i know that,” he said quickly, his words tumbling out in a rush. “but i can’t just let it end the way it did. i know i hurt you, and i know i wasn’t the boyfriend you deserved, but i want to make it right. i need to make it right.”

you sighed, hesitantly sitting down across from him. “it’s not that easy.”

“i know it’s not,” jeongin said, his gaze earnest. he was not going to leave without you. “but i love you. and i’ll do whatever it takes to prove that to you. i’ve been thinking about everything i did wrong, and i promise, i’ll be better. just… don’t shut me out completely. you don’t have to take me back now, but know i’m not going to let this be the end of us.”

his voice softened as he added, “i know i’m asking for a lot, but please… let me show you how much you mean to me. even if it seems a little too late.”

you found yourself softening against your will. jeongin’s sincerity was palpable, and the quiet determination in his eyes made it clear that he wasn’t giving up on you. whether or not you decided to take him back, he was willing to do whatever it took to make amends.

han ♢

han had always been known for his bright energy, and the way he could light up a room with his laughter. but ever since the breakup, his spark was gone and it became glaringly obvious. the jokes came less frequently, and the music he created sounded hollow, even to him. he missed you, missed the comfort of your presence and the way you always seemed to understand him when no one else could.

his group members had tried to give him the time and space he needed, since your relationship was long-term and impactful. you had been by han’s side since before stray kids, and the loss of your presence in his life was something all 7 of them combined couldn’t match up to.

the moment han decided he couldn’t stay away any longer, he abandoned the practice session and rushed straight to your place without even thinking it through. the journey was a blur and his body ran on instinct until he was standing outside your door.

his hands fidgeted with the hem of his hoodie as he rehearsed what he wanted to say for a few minutes before knocking once he was semi-confident of what to say and had plastered a small nervous smile on his lips.

when you opened the door, his smile faltered at the sight of you. “hey,” he said softly, his voice tinged with hesitance, looking over the sight of you in your pajamas.

“han? what are you doing here?” you paused in shock, not expecting his presence out of all things.

“i… i couldn’t stay away,” he admitted, his gaze dropping to the ground. he forgot what he planned to say. “i know i don’t have any right to be here after what happened and what i said, but i needed to talk to you.”

you looked over his sweaty and disheveled appearance as if he ran here, and crossed your arms, looking away. “we already talked, han. what’s left to say?”

“a lot,” he said quickly, his voice trembling slightly — from being out of breath, or from the prospect of losing you, he wasn’t sure. “i know i messed up real bad. i know i didn’t always handle things the way i should’ve, but i can’t —” he paused, swallowing hard. “i can’t lose you.”

you sighed, trying to keep your composure. you knew his words were true. “you realize that now? after all that was said and done?”

“i know what i said,” he said, stepping closer. “but i need you to know how sorry i am. i didn’t realize how much i was taking you for granted until you were gone. and now… now i feel like i’m missing a part of myself. you, and what we had, none of that can ever be replaced. you were the one, and i was so stupid for letting you go like that.”

“han…”

“i’m not asking you to forgive me right now,” he continued, his voice cracking. “but i just want one chance to show you that i can be better. please, just give me that chance. i won’t screw up again.”

his vulnerability was raw and unguarded, and the tears welling up in his eyes mirrored the ache in your chest. his presence only made you realize what you were missing. han wasn’t one to beg, but for you, he’d put his pride aside if it meant that he could win you back.

seung ♢ min

seungmin prided himself on his ability to stay composed, but the breakup had shaken him to his core. he replayed your last conversation over and over, analyzing every word, every tone, trying to figure out where he’d gone wrong. the silence in his life without you was deafening, and no amount of logic could convince his heart to move on.

he knew he had no right to approach you or ask for forgiveness after his neglect, but damn was it hard to get past your absence in his daily life. meals, practice and sleeping alone felt void — like a puzzle piece was missing, leaving the actions feeling inadequate.

it took him a month to realize he couldn’t go on without you, weeks to decide how he was going to approach you, and another handful of days to work up the courage and find himself standing outside your door. his heart was pounding in his chest and his hands felt sweaty.

when you opened your front door, you were startled to see seungmin there, his usual calm demeanor replaced with an uncharacteristic hesitance and unease. “seungmin? what are you doing here?”

“i…” he hesitated, his eyes dropping to the floor as he suddenly felt a wave of unpreparedness. “i needed to talk to you.”

you were surprised but crossed your arms and kept your expression guarded, equally as hesitant. “we’ve already said everything that needed to be said. why now?”

“no,” he said firmly, meeting your gaze. a troubled look in his eyes. seungmin wasn’t sure if he felt like crying, or throwing up. “i didn’t say enough. i didn’t fight for you the way i should have, and i can’t let it end like this.”

“seungmin…” you frowned softly

“i know i made mistakes,” he interrupted, his voice steady but filled with emotion. “i know i wasn’t always there for you the way i should’ve been. but i love you. and i can’t just let you walk away without trying to make things right.”

you sighed, looking away. “it’s not that simple. you hurt me.”

“i know,” he said, his voice softening. “and i hate myself for it. but i want to make it up to you. i’ll do whatever it takes, no matter how long it takes. i just need you to give me a chance.”

when you didn’t respond immediately, he took a deep breath, his hands trembling slightly. “i’m not asking you to forget everything. i’m just asking for the chance to prove that i can be better—that i can be the person you deserve.”

the quiet determination in his voice was unlike anything you’d heard from him before. it was clear that seungmin wasn’t just asking for forgiveness—he was willing to fight for you, no matter how long it took.

chang ♢ bin

changbin wasn’t used to feeling helpless, but after the breakup, he felt like his world had been turned upside down. he threw himself into his music, trying to channel his emotions into lyrics, but even that didn’t offer the relief he was hoping for. the studio felt empty without you. his group mates tried to cheer him up, but nothing could replace your touch, the sound of your laugh or the way you’d encourage him after a long day.

it didn’t take long before he realized he couldn’t let you go. your presence couldn’t be replaced by practice or writing, and every heart wrenching feeling being poured into his file of unreleased songs. it had reached a point where he had gotten tired of the separation and ended up impulsively making his way to your apartment one evening.

changbin’s heart was pounding as he worked up the courage to knock, freezing in surprise when you suddenly opened the door in that purple shirt of yours that you always wore to grocery shop. he stared at you quietly for a few moments, watching how your expression shifted from surprise to guardedness.

“changbin? what are you doing here?” you spoke softly, your gaze flickering around the hall to make sure no neighbor was out.

he hesitated, feeling extremely unprepared despite replaying the conversation in his mind the whole ride here, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. “i just needed to see you,” he said, his voice softer than you’d ever heard it.

“bin, we’ve already talked about this,” you began the nickname slipping too easily, but he shook his head.

“no, i need you to listen,” he said, his voice firm but he had to clear his throat to stay composed. “i know i messed up. really bad. i know i didn’t always handle things the way i should’ve, but i can’t lose you. i don’t know how to be without you.”

you sighed, fidgeting slightly as you looked over his disheveled hair and troubled expression. he wouldn’t meet your eyes either. “it’s not that simple, changbin. you can’t just show up after what happened and expect everything to be okay.”

“i know that,” he said, his dark eyes pleading as he ran his palm over his face. he wasn’t one to beg but if he left this without knowing you were his again, he didn’t know what he’d do. “but i’m willing to do whatever it takes to fix this. i’ll change. i’ll be better. just tell me what you need, and i’ll make it happen.”

you looked away, trying to maintain your resolve, but his words slowly chipped away at your defenses. he was the best you’d ever had, until he wasn’t. “why now, changbin? why couldn’t you do this before and how am i supposed to believe you’ve changed?”

“because i was scared,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper, looking up at you as he reached out to grasp your hands in his. “i was scared of failing you, or of not being enough. but i realized i’m more scared of losing you forever. i wouldn’t be able to bear that.”

his voice trembled and he nearly found himself in tears, leaning his forehead against yours. “please, give me another chance. let me prove that i can be the person you deserve.”

notes: something about writing sad shit and horny shit really makes me tingle. anybody interested in an individual smut fic?

[buggieboyofficial]

I made a reverse au for @void-dude 's Shapes and Pines au!

Their au makes me so happy! :))) I thought it would be interesting to see them reversed. (I wrote a LOT on here so I'm going to transcribe it all at the end of this)

Honestly this was supposed to be a joke and then I kept drawing and thinking about them. This admittedly got out of hand.

To make up for it, have some Tad Strange and Bill!

Tad: Ow.

Bill: Look, Isn't it beautiful?

Tad: Bill, I shouldn't be seeing anything but a doctor right now.

(Full transcription under the 'keep reading')

1969 Tad Strange is 15 years old. (He looks old for his age and uses this to his advantage) He lost his eye in a firework accident when he was 12 and now, he has a fear of fire and a glass eye. Billium is 12 years old and is about to make a really bad mistake. His eye was missing at birth and can't get a glass eye without surgery. Their parents work together and Bills Parents asked Tad to babysit Billium when they are away to help with his bullies. They become friends. (Mini Comic 1) Billium- "You don't GET IT TAD!" Billium- "I was BORN a freak." Billium- "I can't pretend to be normal because I don't know HOW." Tad- "… Huh."

2012 Bill is a Biologist After his family home burned down, killing both Tad and Bill's families, Bill became interested (obsessed) with necromancy. He started with studying human biology, but his work hit a wall and he became desperate for more knowledge. He summoned Sixer for answers after searching for years trying to find a being that could help him. Who knew that the demon of knowledge could be so susceptible to flattery? It's probably because Sixer doesn't get summoned very often.

(Mini Comic 2)

Dr. Bill: Looking extra dexterous today Sixer~

Sixer: *AHEM* Thank you Dr. Bill, let's get back to work now.

Tad is a Car Salesmen He lives in his tow truck just in case he gets chased out of town for selling shitty cars at an increased price. He had lived alone for a long time before Bill tracked him down 4 months ago. Bill apologized and said some cryptic shit about fixing everything. Then he looked around at Tad's tow truck/home and left a paper with weird circles on it and an incantation. He said "Use this to get a better place, you'll need one soon" Then he left. Tad didn't summon Ley until 2 months ago when he almost got shot selling a fake Lamborghini to a gang leader. He was then chased out of town again.

1 Trillion years ago, Sixer and Ley were in the 2nd dimention.

Sixer created a safe(ish) portal to the 3rd dimension which he was able to do because he had one eye that saw in 3d and one that was in 2d.

Ley could see it out of the corner of his eye like Tad did, but doesn't like to look at the world beyond. He accidentally broke the portal Sixer made while trying to use it and now everyone is gone.

(Mini Comic 3)

Sixer: "Look Ley, a Shooting Star!"

Ley: "WTF is a star and why is it shooting at us?!"

[eiralunaire]

Headcanons of Damian Wayne. Part Two.

12. His Confusion About Love (But He Feels It Intensely).

Damian never understood how others could talk about love so easily. In his world, love wasn't a priority: it had always been training, fighting, and controlling. But with his girlfriend, things were different. Sometimes, in the midst of his emotional intensity, he didn't know how to handle his feelings. While he remained stoic on the outside, inside his head kept spinning: *“Is this love? Is it normal to want to be with someone all the time? It shouldn't be so complicated...”* However, what he did know, for sure, was that he had never felt something so strong for another person.

13. The Typical, but Different.

Although Damian is a reserved guy and doesn't usually make the typical romantic gestures, when he's with her, he feels weird, but happy to try. For example, one day, without warning, he takes her to an art exhibition that he knows she's interested in, or invites her to a park to see the stars, even if to him it all sounds a bit cheesy. He does it because he knows she likes it, and if it's something that makes her smile, then it's a worthwhile effort. Sometimes he catches himself thinking that, somehow, those little moments can be more important than a fight or a mission.

14. The Warrior Prince's Insecurity.

Even though Damian never says it out loud, there are times when he feels like he's not enough for his girlfriend. It's not because she's done anything to provoke him, but because, deep down, he can't help but compare himself to the perfection of what he thinks he should be. The son of Batman. The leader of the League of Assassins. The best fighter. And yet, sometimes, he feels out of place when he's by her side, because she has that ability to be light, cheerful, and genuine. He, on the other hand, is so used to carrying the weight of the world that it's hard for him to open up completely. But as she accepts him for who he is, he begins to learn that he doesn't need to be perfect to be enough for her.

15. Simple Details (That He Would Never Forget).

Damien is great at noticing details, and it's not just because he learned it as part of his training. In the case of his girlfriend, he pays attention to the little things that, to her, might seem insignificant: the brand of her perfume, the way she strokes her hair when she's nervous, or how she always has a habit of putting her coffee cup in an exact position on the table. While he won't say it out loud, Damian likes to know that, in those moments, he has a kind of silent power. Not just because he protects her, but because he understands what makes her who she is.

16. Escaping the Darkness Together.

Deep down, Damian is aware of the shadows that haunt him. The darkness of his family, of his training, of everything that comes with being the son of Bruce Wayne and Ra’s al Ghul. But in his girlfriend, he finds something that has nothing to do with that. With her, he can just be Damian: a boy who is falling in love, a boy who feels… good, without having to be the assassin or the leader of the League of Assassins. He likes how she gives him space to be himself, how she is able to bring something as essential as fresh air to his life, even when everything he knows is shrouded in layers of gray and complexity. With her, he feels less trapped in his destiny.

17. Any Excuse is Good to Be Near.

Damian is not the type to go out of his way for texts or calls, but when he is on a mission or out, he always finds the perfect excuse to send a message, even if it is just to say *"I'm here, everything is okay."* It is hard for him to admit it, but he needs to know that she is okay, that she is not alone. If she ever mentions something that's bothering her, he'll think about it for hours, searching for a way to fix it, even if it's something as small as the fact that she's out of his favorite marshmallows.

18. "Don't Let Me Go"

Sometimes, when the situation gets more tense or they're on a mission, Damian has moments where he unintentionally shows a more vulnerable side. "Don't let me go alone," he tells her quietly. He doesn't do it to sound weak, but because he doesn't want to face danger without her nearby. The funny thing is that, despite his image of a strong man, those moments serve to remind him that he doesn't always have to carry all the weight of the world. With her, he has an ally, and that's more than he ever thought he could have.

20. His Way of Saying "I Love You".

Damian would never say those two words in a conventional way. For him, love is not expressed with phrases. It is expressed with actions. It may be that, at the end of a long day, he surprises her with a cup of her favorite tea, or that he defends her from anything that bothers her without her asking. And when he finally says it, if the time comes, it will be something like, "I don't care what happens, but I will never let you get hurt." Because, in a way, that is his way of being vulnerable, of saying what he feels without saying it directly.

21. Being Together Is The Only Thing That Matters.

In moments of calm, when they are at home, everything else disappears. It doesn't matter what happened during the day, or the battles that Damian has faced. The only thing that matters is being near her. Whether it's watching a movie, having a coffee in silence or just talking about any nonsense, he values ​​those moments of simplicity. And although he never says it, in his mind, those are the moments that really make it all worth it. Being with her is his way of escaping, and despite all the chaos that surrounds him, he knows that, finally, he has something that truly belongs to him.

[fire-emblem-drabbles]

What Comes After

Pairing: Astarion x reader

Prompt: In which you couldn't convince Astarion not to become the Vampire ascendant, but still do not allow him to do the ritual.

Description: You really did fall so hard, and so, so fast. No wonder when the ground came to meet you did it hurt just as much. But perhaps its not too late to stand back up again, if someone was willing to lend a hand.

Rating: sfw

Content Warning: hurt/comfort

Word Count: 3018 3244

Notes: I had to save scum this so much on my file that was romancing him. And well I be thinking about him a lot lately... I literally have no idea where these words came from btw so I hope u enjoy them! Edited: 10/6/24 Fixed some spelling mistakes and grammar, added a lil more flavor and tried to make it all present tense lol also this has a title on ao3 now it does here too

“It’s over,” Said with such disdain, such pain and hurt, directed your way. “I’m done with this, and I’m done with you.” Venom, dripping and cold. What happened to the warmth in his eyes? To the love that once shown in them, when he looked your way? “I would say good luck out there, but honestly? I hope you die screaming.” He looked so broken, so hurt.

You hardly remembered what came next, beyond your own tears. Astarion simply… left. Walked away as you crumpled to the ground, in disbelief. As you begged him to say. When you told him, over and over again, that you loved him.

Karlach and Shadowheart must have dragged you out of those dungeons, otherwise you might still be there, wallowing in your pity. You don’t remember how long it had been since then. Since you had stopped Cazador from ascending, freed Astarion from his grasp… and tried to convince him not to ascend himself. Your words may have failed to reach him that day, but your actions didn’t. You severed the connection of your tadpoles, kept Astarion from seeing his scars. You would not be the one to allow such evils to be birthed, would not allow him to kill 7000 souls. You did not allow Astarion to become the vampire ascendant.

Astarion, hurt, broken, and lost, then choose to walk away from you and everything the two of you had built together over this adventure.

You hadn’t really been the same, since then. Where once you were the leader of your little ragtag group of adventurers, now you couldn’t find it in you to leave your tent. Well… Astarion’s tent, to be precise. You never had one of your own. And when the two of you got together, it just seemed natural to share.

Gale had taken over in leading everyone for day to day adventuring on your behalf. Even though you wished it, the world would not slow down because you were hurt. No kindness spared on your broken, broken heart. Yet you couldn’t stop wondering where you went wrong. Were the two of you not as close as you thought? Could you have been more convincing, hells, more intimidating, anything to have kept him by your side?

It must be night now. Your candles are all stuffed out, the bustle of the streets beyond are quiet, and you can’t hear the patter and stomps of Scratch and the owlbear cub playing around camp. Your tears have all but dried, even if your sorrow remains as fresh as a new wound. No, all is silent in this moment. You take a deep breath. Yes, it would be best to sleep. Maybe tomorrow, you would wake up and feel like a person again. One who could attend to all her duties. One who could save Baldur’s gate.

But sleep never comes for those whose hearts are so heavy. This isn’t the first night you’ve lied awake, thoughts wondering. All for the better, perhaps-- because in the heavy quiet of the cities dark night, you hear the flap of your tent open with the utmost quietness. And you, just as quiet, sit up from your laying position. Who ever has invaded your space must have dark vision, for they pause upon seeing your form and do not move an inch.

“I can see you there.” Your voice comes out, gravelly and rough. You don’t sense your in danger, though, even as your heart beats and pounds in your chest. Who would be stupid enough to steal from a camp full of adventurers, with an owlbear lurking around no less. Still, with some trepidation, you cast the cantrip for light, and watch as your messy tent (and new guest) are bathed in cool, blue light.

“Oh,” Is all you think to say. You can’t really trust your eyes, so you rub the days of built up sleep and sorrow from them. No, you can’t even speak his name as you stare upon him. But you dare not look away. Even if it was a dream, it was him. It was him.

“...You’re a mess.” His words are soft, quiet. He seems to relax a little when he sees you make no movement.

“...I suppose I am.” You clear your throat a little after speaking, if only because a new lump seems to be forming now that you look to him. “How… how can I help you, Astarion?”

“Gods…” He heaves a heavy sigh, looking over your pitiful form. “I’ve hurt you this much, and you still think to help me? Are you stupid?” He shakes his head in disbelief.

“Perhaps.” You nod softly. “Stupid enough to fall in love with you, after all.” You can only smile weakly at him.

“I came here too…” He frowns, looking away from you for a moment. He seems to reconsider what he was going to say, sighing and shaking his head before speaking again. “Well it doesn’t matter why I came back. You clearly need some sense knocked back into you.” With that, he moves in closer to you. Surprised, you move in a little in order to accommodate him. You try to ignore the beating of your heart, ignore the hope that rises within you like a phoenix from its ashes.

“What… are you going to do?” You turn to him, nestled into your side like he might have been not too long ago.

“Talk, as terrible as that sounds.” He keeps his gaze down, looking at the messed up bedding. What does he see, in this room that shows the layers of your sorrow?

“Talk?” You repeat. “I thought you… didn’t want to see me again.” You look to where he keeps his eyes trained. All you see is a monument of your regrets.

“Well, that was then. This is now.” Astarion looks to you. To the bags built up under your eyes. To your cheeks, still rosy and sensitive with just how many tears you’ve shed (for him, no less). Your hair is unkempt and as gross as you are, all he can see is someone that loves him. Its bracing, in an entirely disgusting way. After all-- he was the one that did this to you. “I… said and did some terrible things during that ritual. Things that… looking back, I may not have done were I in the right head space.” He swallows hard. “I was… scared. And the promise of power, the smell of blood… it was all so intoxicating, I forgot myself there for a moment.”

The two of you sit in the silence a moment, festering in it. Words dance on the tip of your tongue but Astarion isn’t done speaking. He, too, needs a moment to compose himself. “But… you never forgot who I was.” He looks to you, something soft, something sad, something gentle written into the contours of his face. Even as he turns to you, he struggles to meet your eyes-- shining, glimmering, with everything sweet and promising and loving in them. Something that he doesn’t deserve; not after the actions he took that day.

“You did everything in your power to convince me what I was doing was wrong, but all I could see then was the security that power could bring me.” He closes his eyes, taking a sharp intake of air though his nose. “I was so blinded, I could not see that with you by my side, I was the happiest I’ve ever been these past 200 years…” As he opens his eyes, he looks down to his folded hands, then over to yours before quickly looking away once again. You realize, with much sadness, that even now as he tries to burrow into your familiar warmth, he hesitates to reach out and touch you. Maybe he felt as if he wasn’t allowed to do so any more, or perhaps felt he was no longer worthy… Whatever the reason, it breaks your heart just a little bit more.

“I… see.” It’s a lot to soak up. That in the moment, you couldn’t reach him but in the days sense Astarion has realized maybe this was for the better. The thought hadn’t even occurred to you that he might consider that. That he might actually miss you too.

“You saved me from becoming the very man I lived in fear of, and all I gave you in return was heartbreak.” He seeks your eyes, his own wide and wet and you realize he’s crying now. Tears flood your eyes as well, because he was right; you cared for him so much, though, it almost didn’t seem to matter. Almost. “How can I ever expect you to forgive me?” With that, he breaks, closing his eyes roughly and crying out, sobbing into his own hands. It hurts just as much as when you watched him sob after killing Cazador.

Some how, you summon new tears to cry with him. Two, love sick idiots broken and hurt but not beyond mending-- not yet.

“It’s okay,” You find yourself struggling to say the words, even as you usher him into your arms and hold him. He does not hesitate to hold you in turn, to cry unto you as you into him. “We’ll be okay, I promise, I promise.” Your words come out as prayer as you hold him close. “Just don’t leave again, please!”

“I won’t, I won’t.” Astarion seems to compose himself more quickly than you do, but he does not let go, even as you know your tears stain his shirt. “I’ve got you and I won’t leave you ever again.” He rubs his hand along your back slowly, doing his best to try and comfort you in the same way you have for him in the past. It’s a long moment before you feel yourself begin to breathe normally again, before your tears once again dry and you find yourself staring into his red eyes once more.

“I love you,” Your words are softer than a whisper, said with a trembling smile.

“I love you too.” Astarion responds in kind, resting his forehead against yours. You two stay content a moment, settling into one anothers missed company before he speaks again. “But you’re disgusting-- let me take care of you.” He pulls away from you and your left no room to argue. You merely blink, owlishly, as he pulls back. He moves to stand but you grab his hand before he can get too far.

“Where are you going?” You hold on to him with both hands now, and he has to pause to take the sudden fear on your face. Astarion had planned to leave to return with a little wash bin and rag but seeing you so distraught makes him pause. The last time he left you, he didn’t come back… He can forgive your sudden clingyness, then, but not how you’ve let yourself go in his absence.

“We’re going to get you cleaned up.” With a bit of a struggle, Astarion gets you to rise to your feet next to him. “Don’t make it more difficult than it has to be.” He adds. You nod slowly, still a little on edge from the panic that just flooded your system but nonetheless, choosing to trust Astarion.

So, with the difficulty that comes with only having one hand, Astarion pins open the flaps of the tent (your light cantrip soon goes out as well, but the inside is illuminated but the torchlight of your camp). Some of the stale air you had been living in gets to escape, and you’re able to take a fresh breath of air you hadn’t realized you needed.

Astarion gathers his wash bin, and the rag, and with you in tow, rummages through that the travelers chest you seem to toss anything and everything into. But, avoiding unmatched boots and careful not to prick himself on all the arrows that are in there (and trying not to think about how they were likely dumped in there after he left), he finds what he was looking for-- some soap. And though the water is cold, and the night is cool, at least with a little bit of soap and his careful hand, it’s not all bad.

“You need to wash these clothes too,” Astarion huffs. “I know you have other things, so let’s get you into something cleaner.” You’re guided back into your shared tent (which is already starting to smell better, but the scented water is helping as well) while Astarion rifles though your clothing. Here together again, you finally let go of his hand but stay close to him.

“Thank you…” You pause, watching him pick out something comfortable and warm. “I can take care of myself, though.” You add, attempting to take the clothing from him.

“I’m sure you can-- but I want to take care of you.” He doesn’t let go of your clothing as you try and take it. “So, let me.” His gaze flicks up to your eyes and you’re surprised to see him look so stubborn.

“Oh,” You let go of the clothing, surprised. “I… That would be nice.” You say it quietly, still too caught up in him being here, being real and touching you, loving you.

“Now, out of the nasty clothing, if you would.” He persists, grabbing the hem of your current shirt. He pauses before lifting it though, looking to your face. “That is, if you’re okay with me…” he trails, unsure.

“It’s you, so it’s okay.” You assure him. You raise your hands so he can take off the offending, stinky shirt, and toss it aside. Next, he removes your pants, tossing them the same direction.

“This might be a little cold,” Astarion tells you, but it doesn’t stop the flinch (nor the shiver) as the cool rag touches your skin. Still, his touch is delicate and careful.

He first wipes your face (part of it, still covered in blood and dirt from that same battle). He dips and wrings out the rag, before continuing his work. Your chest, your arms, legs-- all of you, gently washed and cared for. You realize this is the first time he’s been so intimate with you in a non sexual way. It’s… nice. To see his brow furrowed in concentration, have his hands upon you just hold you. It’s not like the two of you went entirely without touching one another in that time, but to have him initiating it, warms you in a way you’ve needed since his departure.

“Now, back in your clothing before you catch a cold.” You nod at him and smile, sliding on the familiar pants and shirt with comfort and ease.

“I already feel a lot better, thank you.” He smiles softly, but sits you back down.

“Just let me attend to this rats nest, and we can be done.” Astarion reaches for his comb, and sits beside you. “Lean back so I can wet your hair, darling.” He guides you down, with your head over the basin, and cups his hand to gather water before wetting your hair.

You let him work quietly, until your hair is wet and he can begin working out the knots starting at the ends. When the comb runs freely through your hair, he grabs the soap and carefully massages it into your scalp, scratching here in there. You let out a sigh in content, and Astarion can’t help but smile softly.

He was still shocked that you even talked to him-- let alone let him touch you. But the two of you needed this. To hold and be held, to love and let go. He was a fool to ever think he could be without you. But he was lucky, then, that you were fool enough to let him back in.

With your hair washed, combed, and dried and the water dumped and wash bin put aside, Astarion lets you sit back up and look at him. “So… what happens next?” You ask softly.

“Well… I’m not sure.” He admits. “I didn’t think you would forgive me so… I hadn’t really thought much beyond that.”

“I suppose we get our rest, then.” You heave a heavy sigh. “I know I’ve taken enough time off from adventuring… And you have some friends who deserve an explanation as well.”

“More talking?” Astarion groans softly, but makes no move to leave your side as you lie down and tug him with you. “But… you are right.”

“You’ll be okay.” You give him a good, full body squeeze. “Everyone here cares for you. They’ll be willing to hear you out.”

“Perhaps only with you by my side.” He lets out a little chuckle. “But… that’s not such a bad thing.” He readjusts in your grasp, snuggling close and turning towards you. “Rest well, darling.” He kisses the top of your head, and smiles down at your sleepy expression.

“I will, now that you’re here…” It didn’t take long for sleep to find you, wound up in Astarion’s arms. You hadn’t slept so well in days, and who was he to wake you when you looked so peaceful…? It seemed like time passed so quickly with you in his arms, and before long he could hear the sounds of everyone else waking in camp.

Astarion couldn’t help but grow anxious as footsteps grew closer to the tent. “Solider, you in there?” Karlach’s voice called out. “I know you haven’t been very hungry lately, but I brought you some breakfast…” Unable to do anything to stop her, Astarion watches, helpless, as Karlach pokes her head into the tent. In the bright morning light that pours in with her, all he can do is look at her with wide eyes as her mouth begins to open. Acting fast, Astarion speaks before she does.

“Shh, just let them sleep a while longer…” Astarion turns from Karlach, brushing some stray hairs from your face. “When they’re ready to wake up, I’ll… I’ll be ready to.” He turns from you, back to Karlach, a look of surprise and glee on her face.

“Right! Right… I’ll be quiet!” She gives him a little thumbs up and quickly retreats from the tent. But… Astarion can hear Karlach, even if she is all the way across camp. First, she tells Jaheira, then Minsc, and Minthara and Lae’zel overhear… Then Wyll, Shadowheart and Halsin of course overhear and then Gale finds out, and now the whole camp is aware that he’s back here even if they are being remarkably polite about it….

Still, it brings a smile on his face. To know they were so excited to see him again (maybe even if it was only to see you happy again) was a comforting thought. To be among friends… That was something truly special indeed.

“Astarion…?” You wake slowly, eyes barely open as you look to him, hold him a little tighter.

“I’m here,” Astarion assures you, giving you a squeeze in return.

“Good…” You close your eyes and cuddle back into him, letting out a small yawn. “Let’s stay alone for just a little longer yet.”

“That can be arranged.” He can’t help but smile, and relax into you. Everyone else could wait a little longer yet-- you deserved what ever you wanted in this moment. And if that happened to be him, well, Astarion was in no place to say no.

[joonipertree]

part 2!

Pro-racer Mikey that needs to do photoshoots and commercials every once in a while because he's famous and has a pretty face

He's put into his tracksuit or into lavish clothes to pose for the masses and a lot of people realise that Mikey has a presence on the camera that's unshakeable

And so....they decide to have him model for a photoshoot with one of the biggest models of the industry. Which works!! It's fine

They're just pictures.

But then the model posts a selfie of Mikey and her. and she says nothing but puts a heart in the caption.

And the speculations run WILD

Comments upon comments of shipping them together, calling them a power couple.

And you sit there, stuck in a doom scroll as you see one tweet after the other. You stare at your boyfriend, black hair neatly kept and smile wide like it always was, and you see the pretty girl.

And within seconds, you feel stupid for feeling insecure because Mikey had literally spent all morning peppering you in kisses, it was IMPOSSIBLE to pry him off even though he had a shoot and Draken had to come haul his ass up and out the door.

The man had texted you complaining how the food was blegh and how he missed your face.

There's no reason to be jealous.

So you turned off your phone and when Mikey came home, exhausted but very happy to see you....you let him smother you in kisses.

And it's forgotten

Until an unofficial bonus picture was released, on the magazine's Instagram page.

Him and the model, her leaning down as he sits on a chair...his hand wrapped around her wrist while their faces are inches close to each other.

It took three seconds to switch your phone off, throw it away and break down sobbing with whatever rational thought you had leaving your head.

You didn't need to read the comments to know what they were saying. You didn't need to wait until your friend's message you to ask if you're okay, out of pity. You didn't need his friends to call you in defense of him. You didn't need him to realise what had happened.

It was all a PR stunt so why would he even need to apologize. It was just a picture. Two people who were attractive being in close proximity to each other, being ogled by millions...being perceived as perfect for each other. As 'pleasing to the eye'

Now, Mikey was filming a commercial when this happened. He'd been chatting with the co-star while the cameras rolled when he noticed Ken-chin whisper into his phone.

The man looked annoyed, ready to argue but going rigid before sighing.

With a whisper to the director, everything paused as Ken waved his phone and said it was for Mikey. That it was Emma.

There was immediate panic because there's no way it wouldn't be an emergency. And he was right, his eyes widened and body grew stiff in seconds hearing his sister berate him.

For being a bastard, for breaking your heart like that.

She demanded he fixed it and when he was about to ask what was going on.....Draken shoved another phone into Mikeys hand...the instagram page of the magazine opened.

Oh. Fuck no

"I'm leaving." Mikey yelled out, startling everyone in the room, his years of being a gang leader coming out.

"What do you mean---"

Draken blocked the director's view, hands behind his back as he went back into the position of the second in command.

"You heard him."

"He has a contract--"

"He doesn't give a fuck."

[muletia]

guys... please let me cook... and hear me out on this...

obsessed!megop x reader

but not in a 'we're rivals fighting for the love of our lives' or 'sharing our darling' way — more like 'after the messiest divorce in the universe, we got back together, but now YOU are entering this relationship with us'. basically, a poly relationship sprinkled with insanity and horniness

very incoherent and loose headcannons word count: 1100 18+ content at the end (nothing detailed tho)

Let’s assume Megatron and Optimus sort things out. After eons of brutal fighting, they go back to their roots—being with each other, not against each other. They find common ground in their conflict, reaching a compromise between ideologies. Maybe it’s when you entered their lives, and their intense feelings for you began to overlap, eventually aligning on the same wavelength. They realized they could allow themselves a fresh, better start. Build a relationship anew, this time on sturdier foundations. Escape the trap of repeating the same moves— ones that only slowed their rival down rather than destroying him outright. In this case, you’re the catalyst for peace, the olive branch that reconciled two warring factions, all while bringing an end to the longest, most toxic divorce trial in the universe.

When there’s a breakthrough in their relationship, the tangled mess of emotions—hatred, longing, and fervor—slowly begins to untangle. That’s when they disappear from your life for a while. From everyone’s daily life, really. Megatron no longer sat brooding on the Nemesis, scheming your next abduction, and Optimus never returned to base after announcing he was going to "clear his mind." They vanished like stones dropped in water. Zero contact. Not even Soundwave could locate his master. The Autobots were just as clueless.

For you, this situation seemed perfect—you could finally start living a normal life. No more getting kidnapped at 3 a.m., no more being stuck under house arrest at the Autobot base. No more deranged warlord holding you on his lap, promising passionate fantasies that could never come true as long as his rival kept a protective watch over you. And no more overprotective Autobot leader spending hours parked in your driveway. You were free. For about a month.

Ratchet is the first to inform you. After weeks of complete radio silence, they finally managed to locate Optimus. And despite the routine drama of abductions and rescues, you couldn’t help but feel happy. And relieved. Because you missed him, even if you were exhausted by his antics. Maybe you even missed Megatron a little... Despite his madness, he could be charming and intriguing, at least. And everything was going great, just fine—until Ratchet informed you that Optimus was at your house. And he wasn’t alone.

From that point on, you became entangled in their fledgling, turbulent relationship. Passionate, yet resembling a ticking time bomb. Still unexplored. And the funniest part of it all? You were living a much better life than before, even though you were the only sane person in this relationship.

They’ve infected each other with their mania, directing it toward each other whenever you’re not around. It’s especially convenient for you because now Megatron has someone else to fixate on when he feels possessive or craves physical contact. He can take it out on Optimus, who also acts as a brake on his partner’s urges when they get too overwhelming when the need for touch prickles at his claws. No more abductions and schemes—now he can vent on Optimus. That doesn’t mean you’re off the hook, though. When you come home from work, both of them are eagerly ready to show you just how much they’ve missed you.

They quickly find a way to insert themselves into your home. To have a space that’s yours, where they know you’ll always return—and they take full advantage of it. You come back from work, and they’re already there. You’re just taking off your shoes, and you can already feel warm claws brushing against your exposed neck, followed by gentler servos caressing your cheek. Megatron wastes no time, pressing his sharp dentae to your bare skin. Optimus, ever the considerate one, asks how your day was and reminds his partner that you deserve at least a minute to relax. A brake. You go to prepare dinner, and behind you, there’s the subtle sound of metal tapping against metal and an even quieter, low moan...

With two Cerberuses at your side, you’re practically untouchable. And while Optimus doesn’t go beyond stern verbal warnings or intimidation by size, Megatron is ready to demolish your boss’s house if he dares make a snide remark at you. This dynamic also shows when you’re around the Autobots (it took them a long time to accept the new reality, by the way). One sassy comment from Arcee, and your protector is ready to return to the warpath to defend your honor. There are even times when Optimus fiercely defends his partner when someone on his team doubts Megatron’s reformation.

Even though they have each other now, content with their companionship and finally feeling fulfilled, they still can’t stop talking about you. Declarations of the passion they feel for one another almost always transform into monologues about you—about their longing, the softness they associate with you, the belief that if you were with them right now, they’d feel that sense of completeness again. Wholeness. Fulfillment. Harmony. Caught up in each other, but still aching with longing for their human. Their beloved. Without you, they’re like planets without a sun—lost, unproductive. They need you to function on a basic level. The three of you are inseparable.

The end of the war means more free time. Both of them are now unemployed, so all their attention shifts to nurturing your relationship. Including in the bedroom... Suppressing their feelings for so many years, burying them deep in their sparks even as they fiercely clawed for freedom, they’re surely brimming with frustration—frustration that spills into their most intimate, primal needs. They infect you with their fever, proving just how unbearably they’ve missed you and how deeply the desire to have you has consumed them. How it’s burrowed into their processors, taking over their lives, manipulating every choice and decision.

Some days, they can’t wait. The conversation about you goes on too long, dives into too intense, too intimate territory, mocking their self-control and teasing hidden components. Sometimes they climax, chanting your name, even when you’re not around. Sometimes you witness their "games." You don’t intervene, yet have full control. Watching with your own eyes just how utterly dependent they are on you, how they can’t release without your approval.

If having one titan in love with an ordinary mortal wasn’t already an empowering feeling, now you have two, completely at your mercy. Both burning with their own desire and all the tools needed to relieve it—yet it is your word that is final.

try not to develop a god complex challenge, lmao

[gachagon]

Wolfgang's deceit and hypocrisy

A deconstruction and analysis of Wolfgang's behavior based on what he said and did during Chapter 1

I kept thinking about why Damon didn't exactly get along with Wolfgang because it seems obvious that he doesn't like him due to Wolfgang's somewhat pompous attitude towards the idea of Ultimates. Wolfgang contrasts Damon's view of Ultimates in that Wolfgang believes all talents are equally valuable to society, and Damon doesn't.

Wolfgang says he doesn't believe anyone there was capable of murdering their "friends" and that the killing game wouldn't even kick off because he believed in the inherent goodness of Ultimates as a whole.

Damon disagreed with this notion and believed everyone had the capacity for violence regardless of their Ultimate status or not. He also disagreed with the idea that all talents are equally valuable to society and that some are more frivolous in nature than others.

Wolfgang believed in a lot of "hopeful" ideals however, I don't think he was telling the truth when he said these things. His actions spoke louder than all of those inspiring speeches he gave to the rest of the class.

In fact, I think Wolfgang agreed with everything Damon said, but he didn't want to admit it for some reason. Wolfgang said he believed in a fair trial and letting people explain themselves, but when Eva claimed she was the Ultimate Liar he immediately resorted to turning the others against her by casting suspicion on her.

He said he believed that all talents are equal in value, but when Eva was revealed to be the Ultimate Mathlete, he didn't stop any of the others from mocking Eva over it. (I will also point out that while as hilarious as Cassidy's Bargain Bin joke is at Damon's expense, he doesn't tell her off for making said joke at all either.)

And Wolfgang said he didn't believe anyone there would kill anyone, but he was constantly taking "precautions" for the Killing Game. "Just in case" someone decided to do something. He agreed with Desmond's idea of bunking together, he at first doesn't want to investigate the pharmacy but decided it's a good idea to let everyone know what's inside anyways, and when he got the mysterious letter telling him to meet in the boiler room he brought a knife with him from the kitchen "for protection" supposedly.

Wolfgang says a lot of things that he clearly doesn't believe, him and Damon are exactly alike. But the difference is that Damon is honest in how he feels about the Killing Game and Wolfgang is not.

Where his hypocrisy comes in is how he judges Damon for his honesty, and makes it seem like he too isn't distrustful of others during the game. And I think the reason for why Damon specifically doesn't like Wolfgang is not just because he is a hypocrite but because he's purposeful about his hypocrisy. He isn't like the rest of the class in his hypocrisy in that he's not doing it by accident, he's doing it on purpose because it keeps him in control of the group.

And the funny thing about it is that it's kind of Damon's fault that the others adopted Wolfgang as their defacto leader. During the mock class trial, Damon was the one who defended Wolfgang's integrity and instinct as a lawyer to get the others to continue to believe in him so they could solve the murder.

But Damon didn't defend Wolfgang because he had some belief in the inherent goodness of Ultimates. He did it because Damon believed Wolfgang's *talent* as a lawyer is proof enough that he's well versed in situations like this. It wasn't about Wolfgang as a person, but his ability as a lawyer. And I think this is why when Damon just says what he thinks Wolfgang is confused by it because he thought Damon was like the rest of the class, hopeful and naive.

And obviously, later on Wolfgang states that he sees people, Ultimates, as more than just their talent. But I don't believe him. I think from the way he treated both Eva and Damon that he silently agreed on the idea of some talents being lesser than others. And he just puts himself in the position of not believing in what Damon says because it's unpopular with the rest of the class.

Wolfgang can subtly take all of the credit for solving Cara's murder, while Damon gets no recognition and because Damon has an unpopular opinion about Ultimates and Talents and the Killing Game, Wolfgang can become their leader very easily (which is exactly what happened)

But he doesn't truly believe in any of it, he's a biased person through and through who has his own selfish goals, and egotistical opinions just like Damon. I think he just didn't come out and be honest because being honest would've shafted him with the likes of Eva and Damon.

Wolfgang is leading them all with blind optimism, when he himself isn't that optimistic. I think this is why his Blackmail letter mentioned him having a Wolfish mind as well, because he is essentially a wolf in sheep's clothing leading a herd of sheep to their potential doom. Keeping them in the dark on purpose so he can continue to be seen as the leader and beacon of hope.

And if you think "Wolfgang wouldn't be that self centered to do this" I think he is, purely because of how he behaved during his death. Diana mentioned him saying things about being seen as great, trying to prove himself to someone, and not being able to measure up to another person.

I think Wolfgang is the exact type of person who would feed on other people's admiration in a situation like this. "It doesn't matter if they believe in me for a foolish and naive reason, because they believe in *me*. And as long as they have their faith in *me*, nothing else about this situation matters. Anyone who doesn't put their faith behind my ability to lead is irrelevant and isn't a part of the group."

(hence why Eva and Damon were constantly shafted by Wolfgang as outsiders)

[nobodyknowsimalesbian777]

Sunshine (pt 2!) - pitfighter!vi (Arcane)

NSFW tags - porn, fantasizing about sex, switch!reader, sub!vi, dom!surprise character, pussy-eatting & fingering (r!receiving), face-riding (vi!receiving), bit of angst, lowkey evil reader ngl, kinda rushed

authors note - okay, it's here guys!!! this could probably be a stand-alone, but i strongly recommend reading part one first. i hope you love it! i hope the grammatical and spelling errors are not that bad, i really wanted to get this out before act 3 😛😛😛 ----------------------------------------------------------

you felt your hands shake as you lifted your head, meeting vi's fucked-out gaze

the pit in your stomach grew as you realized she didn't just accidentally call you Cait,

she was imaging you were Caitlyn

vi tilted her head, bringing her hand up to your cheek

you pulled your head away, throwing yourself up and nearly stomping to the bathroom

a shattered woman stared back at you in the mirror, and you could hardly stand it

rushing, you picked up everything you'd need for the night and slammed the door on your way out

you heard vi follow you out the door, calling out and asking what was wrong

her voice was enough to break you, and you felt tears stream down your face as you continued to a hotel a few blocks away

you had never felt a pain this deep before, and you found yourself questioning how often she thought about cait while she was with you

the thought killed you

you always liked caitlyn, but you hated her now for taking away vi

your violet

the violet you picked up and put back together while she killed herself for a woman who left her, sobbing, on the ground

suddenly, an all-consuming idea to get back at vi filled your mind,

how much would it hurt her to see the two women she lost together?

that's when you decided you needed to find caitlyn kirraman

it wouldn't be difficult, she was well known as the piltover military leader

you had both grown up in the same circles, which is why you were so surprised to find out about her past with vi

not that it mattered now,

you couldn't think of anything other then showing vi exactly how you felt, ruining her with the same name she had used to ruin you

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

you had spent the morning traveling back to piltover,

your parents welcomed you back with open arms, consoling you as you told them about what vi had done

the day was spent getting ready to find Caitlyn,

you had to make yourself look presentable after spending the night sobbing

caitlyns home wasn't far from yours, so you picked out a bottle of wine and made your way

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

the kirraman house stood tall, beckoning you up the stairs,

every step you took was one step closer to your vengeance against vi,

and that's all it took to encourage three firm knocks against the wood of caitlyns door.

the door opened to reveal a red-headed officer, she eyed you up and down before her thick Scottish accent pierced your eardrums

"junior officer nolan, what's your business here?"

you sighed sweetly, putting on your best act

"im here to...see an old friend" you hated how insincere you sounded

officer nolan, however, didn't seem to notice

she stepped back, inviting you in and even leading you back to a big conference room

you hasn't seen caitlyn in years, her youthful features had sharpened, and she kept her blue hair tucked under her cap,

it was impossible not to feel a mix of inferiority and attraction as you gazed at her

the wine bottle clicked as you set it on the table, prompting caitlyn to swivel around and meet your intense gaze

"who are you?" her accent sent shivers straight down your spine, but you had to remind yourself why you were here,

more, what you were here for.

"it's nice to see you too, caitlyn" you chuckled, again feigning sweetness

her eyes softened as she seemed to recognize you, a relieved sigh leaving her parted lips,

"i apologize, i've been a bit...on edge, as of late." a soft chuckle escaped you,

because she couldn't possibly imagine how much worse it was going to get.

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

weeks had passed with caitlyn, and you spent every available moment by her side

tending to housekeeping, amoung other, more personal matters

every moment you spent with her, you became more infatuated

you compared every part of her to yourself, questioning what made her linger in vi's mind while you had been together

it was very conflicting, as you were starting to realize exactly why she stuck

and every day that passed made you question if your affection towards her was an act.

these thoughts plagued your mind, when it wasn't filled with memories of vi

love was a confusing feeling for you,

and this triangle you had fabricated was not making a whole lot more sense

you spent nights laying in bed with caitlyn,

your hands drifting across the body that vi hadn't gotten the chance to know,

but somehow managed to love

much more then she had ever loved you, if she had at all

thoughts of leaving caitlyn had, of course, come up,

letting her feel the pain she had put vi, and (although indirectly) you through

but you knew that it would have been a waste of your time

you had spent time creating this scenario, and you were so close to the end

the last step was ensuring vi got a good look at you and cait, a real up close and personal look

luckily, cait frequently left you alone in her home when she was on missions

and her specific kirraman house parchment was not incredibly hard to find

so, as caitlyn slept, you drafted a note. one that would ensure vi was exactly where you wanted her

' vi, i need to speak to you. tommorow, midnight, sneak in the way i showed you...please. -cupcake'

you had it brought directly to vi's door, and moved into the next part of your plan, waiting.

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

the day seemed to drag on, caitlyn had endless amounts of visitors requesting her audience

you expected she would need her favorite form of stress relief at the end of the day

and you had no. idea. how right you were.

right at 11:45, just as you expected, caitlyn came into your now shared room

she immediately shed her uniform, huffing as she made her way over to the bed, where you lay waiting

cait shoved you down by the shoulders, making your back hit the bed as she straddled your legs, her strong thighs enclosing you

your moans echoed on the walls as she kissed down your torso, stopping only to hastily untie the robe covering you

the clocks hands ticked away behind her, showing '11:50', '11:53' and finally, right as she was spreading your legs, '12:00'

you made sure you were facing the window, while cait laid out on her stomach

hungry hands reached up, grabbing at any piece of flesh they could reach

all the stress of her job was taken out on your abused cunt,

you had barely felt the warm satisfaction of her tounge on your clit before she was ramming two fingers inside of you at a brutal pace

you'd never admit it, but you absolutely loved when cait treated you like this

when she reminded you that she owned you, regardless of why you came to her

vi was rarely allowed to see you this way, you made sure that she was satisfied above all else, and she used that

she used you

you suppose caitlyn did too, in a way

and suddenly, a thought you'd never had before was all you could think of

caitlyn continued her brutal ministrations on your clit as you imagined vi above you,

her cunt smothering you, absorbing your moans as you teased her entrance

you imagined cait standing, leaving you needy and wet, and watching you, directing you

telling you how exactly to touch each other, exactly what she wanted to see

you were pulled out of your fantasy when you heard the window slide open quietly,

cait was far too enamored with you to hear vi's soft gasp as she laid eyes on the two of you together

you lifted your head, making direct eye contact as caitlyn messily licked up and down your cunt

vi watched in shock as you arched your back, gripping the bedsheets tight as you reached your peak all over caitlyns face

her soft moans were drowned out by your intense ones, you made sure to give vi a show as you came undone

cait lifted her head, moving up to kiss you before she realized you were looking directly behind her

glaring, more then looking actually

she whipped her head around, meeting vi's tear-brimmed eyes

they both looked between you and each other, you could see the millions of emotions passing through them as their eyes finally stayed on you,

you offered a simple shrug, pulling your robe back over as you sat up

your voice rung out in the painfully quiet room,

"doesn't feel so great, does it?"

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

okay gang idk how i feel about this yet?? i will defo come back after act 3 drops and clean it up a bit, i just wanted to get something out. i hope you like it soso much, i love the idea and im hoping my execution isn't too bad! as always, please please pleaseeeee leave all the insane requests, i love them all and it's so nice to get inspiration and just to know what you all want to read!!

[shenachigans]

THE KEY TO HER HEART | Cassandra Kiramman

PAIRING: Cassandra Kiramman x Fem!Reader

CW: angst with a hopeful ending?, spoilers for season 2 act I, canon divergence, in Caitlyn’s pov, no dialogues (except one), mentions of death, mentions of reader being married to a man and having children with said man, mentions of pregnancy, mentions and implications of being in the hospital deathbed, tragic-ish love, 1950s Hollywood inspired in terms of homosexuality-ish, mentions of homophobia, back in the old day women are expected to marry a man, they kept their love for each other hidden until the end, reader is also a matriarch of her own family like Cassandra, most likely ooc Cassandra and Caitlyn

SUMMARY: Caitlyn receives the Kiramman Key to unlock knowledge privy to the Kiramman matriarchs. She also unlocks a memoir of her mother’s past, specifically with the person she loved the most through old photographs and unsent letters.

A/N: I realized a lot of my published work is composed of the “letter narrative” as I call it and this one has a bunch. It’s similar to my first Cassandra fanfic, the only difference is there’s death and grief involved. I have yet to finish the season, but her funeral and the memorial were hard to watch. I miss her so much. 

A/N (12/11/24): Reading it while listening to “I Can’t Hear It Now” by Freya Ridings/Arcane on loop is a whole other experience...

WORDS: 2,669

(FANFIC IS UNDER THE CUT!)

When her father handed her the Kiramman Key her mother wanted her to have, Caitlyn knew she was truly gone. She was now the leader of House Kiramman too soon, without the guidance of her mother, Cassandra. It was a position she deemed unworthy of, but her mother reassured her of the merit of her birthright. Only when she thought her relationship with her mother would progress, the world decided to strip that opportunity from her. 

Filled with grief, loss, and vengeance, especially after the attack at the memorial, Caitlyn decided to view what her mother had in store for her. First, it was the presentation of the ducts, the toxic air in the fissures contained by her mother’s instructions, allowing the people of The Undercity to breathe. She could use the passageways of the ventilation system and the Grey to locate Jinx, dismantle Shimmer, and neutralize any agents still loyal to Silco. Second, was a drawer of letters and photographs in a compartment at the bottom of the desk. It had nothing to do with the Kiramman Clan, but something to do with her mother’s personal life when she was younger.

The drawer seemed to be a memoir, maybe something left to be forgotten as dust covered its contents. Everything was held together with twine, completed with a battered tag, showing how old the letters and photographs were — possibly older than Caitlyn herself. She gently grabbed the bundle of memories in her hands, flipping the tag over to see what was written, the ink smudged by droplets. It wrote: My old love, in Cassandra’s handwriting. Her mother had a lover? 

Caitlyn swore her breath hitched when she untangled the twine to reveal the secrets Cassandra carried. She wanted to see who her mother loved so much, that she had a collection of their time together, but she wasn’t expecting several photographs of you to appear. After all, you were her mother’s childhood friend, her closest companion and confidant. 

It was clear in Caitlyn’s eyes that you two had a platonic relationship. Did she read it wrong? She saw you as an aunt, a second mother beside Cassandra; she never realized that her mother loved you romantically. This doesn’t make sense. You had a husband and children of your own, just like her mother. You and Cassandra would get together and gossip about your spouses and children. She had proof, she had accompanied you two when she was a little girl on several occasions. What did Caitlyn miss? What was kept hidden?

Did her mother love you more than her own husband? What about you? Did you love Cassandra too? Caitlyn flickered through the photographs, putting the letters aside for later, it was clear her mother was devoted to you. She never imagined her mother would ever use a camera to capture your beauty throughout your shared life. It felt uncharacteristic of her to do so, to have her mother be deeply in love with someone other than her father. 

Now that she thought about it. It seemed like Cassandra changed when you passed away. Gone was the warmth she wore on her sleeves as she became distant and even more stubborn, pretentious, and selfish, perfecting her façade as a politician. She now realized how her mother tried to tone down her grief during your burial, to appear as if she only lost a good friend. Caitlyn was too entangled in her own emotions of also losing you to realize how deeply your sudden death affected her mother. She was still too young to comprehend how you died, Cassandra never told her. It was too painful to recount.

Maybe all this time, Cassandra was still grieving your loss till the day she died, having failed to protect you and prevent your death, so much so that her efforts were transferred onto Caitlyn so she could avoid the same fate. She started to understand her mother’s actions a little more, not that she condoned them after the seclusion and restriction she felt all her life. Her mother meant well, even if it hurt. Cassandra didn’t want to lose Caitlyn as she lost you.

After observing each photograph, soon came the letters. Caitlyn skimmed from the oldest letter at the bottom pile to the newer ones at the top. These words were never meant to see the light of day, never meant for someone else to see, especially not you or an outsider like Caitlyn. She can’t believe how raw the emotions she felt from her mother’s words. Caitlyn cannot do justice to her mother’s letters by explaining their contents. You simply had to read them to feel Cassandra’s love for you, but you were gone, unaware that your dearest friend saw you as her whole world even if she could not display her heart at her sleeves due to the societal expectations in the past.

Caitlyn saw smears of ink in many places, making it hard for her to comprehend the smudged words, but she knew her mother cried writing and possibly reading them. These letters were a diary, a collection of paper with words akin to a symphony of her love for you. Caitlyn wondered if you were aware of Cassandra’s feelings and simply did not comment on it, or if you and her mother shared the same situation, loving each other in the shadows as your respective families were in the spotlight of attention.

Was writing letters something Cassandra did in her free time? Because there were so many, it would take Caitlyn some time to skim through all of them. It felt like an invasion of privacy, but maybe her mother wanted someone to know her feelings unless this parcel was supposed to be discarded before Caitlyn took over as the Kiramman Clan Matriarch. Still, Caitlyn couldn’t help but go through it, you meant a lot to her too, and she felt the connection between you two that had faded since your death years ago. The world had taken you and her mother too early, Caitlyn only had her father left, hoping his grief for Cassandra wouldn’t make his life wither and leave her too. 

The letters started with Cassandra realizing she loved you; appreciating your beauty from inside and out. She expressed in detail the moment she knew she was in love, from how her heart threatened to beat out of her chest as your hair blew in the wind, the purple petals from the grand ivory-barked tree swayed with you. Caitlyn recognized it was the sacred place she and her mother shared near the fountain on the outskirts of the city, a place where they never argued and remembered your presence together.

“...We went to the place you enjoyed the most, Y/n. I came to share your love for this park because you were always there with me. I never thought you would take my breath away like you had today. You were beautiful, you have always been. 

Today felt different, however. The sight before me was something that came out of books. The wind picked up and your hair danced with the purple petals that floated around you. Your smile directed at me made it seem like I was in a fairytale my mother used to tell me as a child. It was a sight to behold, and I knew then and there, that I had fallen in love with you...”

The following letters were short, but filled with admiration and love. Cassandra appreciated you in many ways Caitlyn never knew in each letter, expressing her appreciation for everything you did, your character, appearance, and how you treated her. Her mother was so youthful, so happy whenever she was with you. It broke Caitlyn’s heart when the letters started to take on another tone; one of loss and hopelessness.

“...Why must society be this way, my love? Why am I prohibited from loving you the way you deserve? I am shackled by these expectations placed upon me, and I’m ashamed that I have to hide in the dark to be able to express my love. I’m a coward for not throwing everything away so I could love you publicly. I wish to have you by my side, to call you my lover, my beloved wife, without the consequences of society. I was overjoyed when I realized you loved me too, but it pained me that you were also hiding your love. You were as careful as I was with concealing how we felt for each other. Do you know that I love you too? I wish for you to know, but I’m scared of putting you in danger.

I wouldn’t know of your feelings if not for the day my parents announced my engagement. You had shown a crack of your true self from your poised façade. It pained me to see the sullen expression on your face. You tried to hide your turmoil, but I knew the news broke you as much as it did me. I wanted to cup your face and hold you in my embrace, to feel your warmth against mine as I whispered words of love, saying that we would still have each other as our duties befall us. 

I wanted to kiss your troubles away, but I did not let myself get carried away with such intimacy. Any hint of something more as friendship in anyone’s eyes would lead to forced separation… I don’t want to lose you. I’m sorry, Y/n, but I need to build distance between us to avoid suspicion. Please forgive me… I despise myself for being powerless to protect you from the pain I would cause you…”

Caitlyn read the following letters, Cassandra expressed her guilt for keeping you at arm's length when all she wanted was to have all of you, to be with you the way you both wanted, but such a thing never happened when the two of you started your own families. She apologized in many letters as she realized how you started to pull away from her. Caitlyn tried her best to decipher the smudged words that filled the loose paper. Her mother didn’t want this, didn’t want to pretend she felt nothing for you other than a platonic friendship, that she didn’t love you. It was cruel. 

There was a large time gap between the letters. Caitlyn decided that her mother tried to focus on her duties as the Kiramman Matriarch and her relationship with Tobias by severing her attachments to the letters. Cassandra must’ve been carrying Caitlyn somewhere during this time, not wanting the memory of your relationship with her to cause stress and emotional turmoil during her months of pregnancy. 

The letter that followed was something close to reconciliation even if the distance was still there. You and Cassandra must’ve accepted the fate of your separated lives and decided to continue what was remaining of your friendship. Caitlyn was surprised she was the catalyst of this event. 

“...I was nervous about meeting you again after months of no contact, Y/n. I didn’t know what to expect after you distanced yourself from me. I still remember the pained expression on your face when I told you we shouldn’t see each other anymore. I never hated myself so much for being the cause of your pain. I have never done anything but hurt you. So, I was in disbelief when you easily agreed to the invitation I sent out of the blue to meet Caitlyn. 

You must’ve laughed at my audacity for wanting you back after pushing you out of my life, that you only agreed to this because your kind husband convinced you so. I hate to say I’m relieved you have wedded a respectful man. I know you are safe in his hands when I can’t be there to do the same. 

I was faced with an impassive demeanor when you arrived at the Kiramman residence, and I didn’t know if our friendship could be salvaged, but when you held Caitlyn, I saw a glimmer of love shine in your eyes. The smile that broke from your façade when you cradled my daughter with so much care made my heart swell at the sight. Then you met my gaze, and it felt like that day in the park all over again. I knew I was still in love with you, and you felt the same, even as our love dwelled in pain and loss because of the world we live in…”

The last letter on the pile was tattered compared to the other ones. It was difficult to understand because of the ink smudges, shaky handwriting, and teardrops… Caitlyn knew what this letter was about and could see how her mother struggled to write this one. The unshakeable grief that filled this page hurt Caitlyn. This must’ve been the fork Cassandra faced when she decided that writing more letters would only cause her more pain than solace as she thought about you.

“...I failed you, my love. I failed to protect you from your curiosity and compassion for The Undercity. The world was too cruel to take you from me, our relationship had only begun to blossom its fruits. The time we spent rebuilding what was lost… How could I sleep at night, knowing I could’ve prevented your death? I will never be able to live with the guilt of hurting you even until your last breath. 

I should’ve listened to you, I should’ve been more open-minded about creating the ventilation system for people of the fissures. Was this the world’s response to my selfishness, to take you away from me? I feel so empty without you, the grief is tearing away at me. I couldn’t bear hearing Caitlyn’s cries when I told her you would no longer be with us to spoil her, to love her like your own. 

Everything that happened to you is all my fault. No amount of apologies would bring you back, but I am so sorry, Y/n. The Grey I could’ve contained with my influence and resources ate at your life, poisoned your lungs, and I couldn’t do anything to stop it. 

It tore at my heart to see you fighting for your life, hooked to machines, but everything was a lost cause when the grip of your hand on mine loosened and lay limp between my own. Your eyes became distant and empty as the light in them faded, but you still held the smile I fell in love with, muttering the words I longed to hear for decades: ‘I love you, Cassandra.’ I couldn’t respond in time, I failed to say that I love you too… because you were already gone… 

I promise I will let the people of The Undercity breathe, just as you had wished, my love…”

Caitlyn now understood why her mother completed the project. She did it for you. It was a grand and equally dangerous project that took many lives and resources to complete, and here Caitlyn was, planning to unleash the gas that killed you to look for a criminal who killed her mother and many others. 

After reading the letters, Caitlyn wondered several things. Would her mother be happy again, now that she has reunited with you in the afterlife? Would she be able to express her love after hiding her true feelings for you for so long? Caitlyn hopes she can because she knows how much her mother was alive when you were around, even in moments of joy and sadness. She wanted her mother to be happy again despite the pain in her heart that she was no longer there with her and her father.

.

.

.

Meanwhile…

“I finally got to see you again, my love… Oh, how I missed you so… My life was never the same when you left… I can’t believe you’re back in my life… and in my arms… I love you too, Y/n… I love you so, so much, dearest.”

© shenachigans — do not plagiarise, translate, repost, or copy.

[fratttymatty]

The "Interview"

(All characters are 18+)

It was a cold Friday night in London, and four friends—Elliot, Jake, Micah, and Julian—stood in line outside one of the most famous music venues in the city. It was a milestone of sorts: they’d saved up for months, gotten their tickets with just enough time before they turned 18, and now they were about to witness their favorite artist, Central Cee, live in concert.

They were all from the U.S., fresh out of high school, and their friendship had grown strong over the years. It wasn’t just their shared love of music that kept them close, but also their shared experiences navigating life as gay teens in America. Each one had their own story, their own struggles and victories, but they found comfort in each other—through late-night talks, inside jokes, and nights spent dancing to the latest rap tracks.

Elliot, the group's de facto leader, was a tall, lanky guy with curly dark brown hair, a hint of stubble on his chin, and a sarcastic sense of humor that had everyone in stitches. Jake, the creative one, had a boyish charm about him with a mop of messy hair and a slightly mischievous grin. Micah was the quiet, introspective one, with a soft smile that always made him seem like he was in on a secret. Julian, the most confident and adventurous, had an athletic build, a razor-sharp jawline, and always seemed to be the one pushing the others to take risks.

Tonight, though, something felt different. Maybe it was the excitement of being in London, or the energy of the crowd around them, but all four felt a growing anticipation buzzing through their veins. As they entered the venue, a man in a black hoodie approached them. He had the swagger of someone who knew exactly who they were.

“You lot," he said, "you’re coming with me.”

Before they could ask questions, the man led them backstage, where they were ushered into a dimly lit room with plush furniture. There, standing with his back turned, was none other than Central Cee himself. The moment the door clicked shut behind them, Elliot felt a strange energy in the room, something that made his pulse race.

“Right,” Central Cee said, turning around with a grin that was both welcoming and knowing. “You lot came here to see me. But before you go back out there, how about a quick chat?”

The boys exchanged puzzled glances. They had no idea what was going on, but curiosity got the better of them. Each one was called up one by one for what seemed like a simple interview, but no one expected the transformation that would follow.

Elliot was the first to be pulled forward. As soon as he stepped up to Central Cee, a strange warmth washed over him. Central’s eyes glinted with something that made Elliot feel exposed, like he could read everything about him in an instant.

“Tell me something about yourself, fam,” Central Cee said casually, his voice smooth but commanding. “What’s your vibe?”

Elliot was taken aback. He wasn’t used to being asked such personal questions, especially not in front of his friends, but something about the moment made him open up.

“I guess… I’m the group’s leader, y’know? Always planning, always keeping us together,” Elliot said, trying to sound confident.

Central Cee smirked. “Sounds like you’ve got control, yeah? You wanna take control of your life in a new way?”

Before Elliot could respond, a rush of heat spread through his body, and suddenly his skin felt tight, as if something was shifting beneath it. His hair—once wild and curly—grew smoother, darker, and slicked back into a tousled fringe that framed his face perfectly. His broad frame shrank slightly, his arms growing more defined, and his posture shifted into something… cooler. He felt a tug at his accent—his American drawl fading into a crisp London twang. His clothes adjusted too, becoming baggier, more streetwear-oriented. A hoodie and a pair of well-worn tracksuit bottoms replaced his previous outfit.

The transformation was shocking, but what was even more surprising was how right it felt. He no longer cared about his past life as an American teenager; everything about him now screamed British roadman, and he loved it.

“Oi, you proper now, bruv,” Central Cee said with a nod of approval.

Elliot didn’t even recognize the name he'd had before—Elliot felt so far away. He was Rhys now.

Jake was up next. He had been watching Elliot closely, but before he could ask him what had happened, Central Cee locked eyes with him.

“Your turn, fam. What makes you tick?”

Jake wasn’t used to feeling vulnerable, but somehow, with Central Cee’s sharp gaze on him, all of his walls crumbled.

“I… I guess I just like to push boundaries. Take risks,” Jake said, almost unsure of his own words. “I’m always looking for something new.”

Central Cee raised an eyebrow. “New, huh? How about we make you new, yeah?”

Jake didn’t even have time to process the words before another wave of heat swept through his body. His hair grew out, settling into a perfect, messy fringe. His slim, artistic frame bulged with muscle, and his clothes morphed into the streetwear of a London roadman. A gold chain appeared around his neck, and his voice shifted from his American accent to a street-smart British one.

He felt a sense of ease settle into his chest. His friends were still standing there, but it was as if a part of him had clicked into place. He was no longer that shy, creative guy from America. He was something else now—someone who walked the streets with confidence, ready to take on whatever came his way.

Central Cee nodded approvingly. “That’s it. You look proper now, bruv. Name’s Connor now, yeah?”

Jake felt a grin tug at his lips. He was Connor now. No going back.

Micah was nervous, but he didn’t show it. He had always been the quietest, the most introspective, and he wasn’t sure what to make of all of this. When Central Cee called his name, Micah stepped forward slowly.

“Alright, what about you, bruv?” Central Cee asked, his voice softer but still commanding. “What’s your story?”

“I’m… I’m always thinking,” Micah said, his voice unsure. “I overanalyze everything. I never really feel like I belong.”

Central Cee grinned knowingly. “Well, maybe you need to belong to something, yeah?”

Micah blinked, and then, just like the others, the heat surged through his body. His hair fell into a perfect, tousled fringe, his body became leaner and more athletic, and his eyes darkened with a new intensity. His accent shifted smoothly from American to a sharp London tone. His clothes became the uniform of someone who belonged in the streets: a puffer jacket, ripped black jeans, and trainers that had seen some miles.

As the transformation completed, Micah felt an unfamiliar confidence rise in him. He no longer felt out of place—he was home. He looked down at his clothes, his new identity settling around him like a second skin.

“You fit in, bruv. You were always meant to be one of us,” Central Cee said, grinning.

He was no longer Micah. He was Liam now, and it felt right.

Finally, it was Julian’s turn. He walked forward, a little slower than the rest, already knowing what was about to happen.

“You look ready,” Central Cee said with a raised eyebrow. “What’s your vibe?”

Julian shrugged, exuding that confidence that had always been his trademark. “I’m the one who always takes things head-on. I don’t overthink. I just do it.”

Central Cee’s grin widened. “Good. You’ll fit right in.”

As the words left Central Cee’s mouth, the final transformation hit Julian. His hair fell into the same tousled fringe, and his athletic build became even more solid. His voice shifted to a crisp, confident British accent. His old American swagger was gone, replaced by the loose, easy movements of someone who lived and breathed the streets of London. The clothes shifted too: a grey tracksuit replaced his previous outfit, and he felt the weight of it like armor.

Julian looked at himself in the mirror, barely recognizing the person staring back. The name Julian felt like an echo from a past life. Now, he was Brayden.

Central Cee slapped him on the back. “That’s the energy we need, fam.”

By the time they all stood together, they were unrecognizable—not just in appearance, but in their very essence. Their American pasts felt distant and irrelevant. They were no longer Elliot, Jake, Micah, and Julian. They were a new crew now, a gang of roadmen. They were Rhys, Connor, Liam, and Brayden. And they had found their place in the world, alongside Central Cee and his crew.

As the night went on, the boys realized that the transformation was complete—not just on the outside, but deep down inside. They had found a new identity, a new family, and a new life.

And they would never go back.

After the transformation, Rhys, Connor, Liam, and Brayden became something entirely different—no longer just American teens trying to find their place in the world, they had now fully embraced their new roadman personas. Their lives, their outlook, and even their identities had shifted, and London had become their new home.

Their American pasts were like faded memories, barely a whisper beneath the streets they now walked. It was all about swagger, respect, and the code of the roads.

But the change wasn’t just about looking the part—it was about living the life. And soon enough, their new relationships started to follow suit.

Rhys was the first to find someone who matched his energy. With his newfound cocky, confident persona, it didn’t take long for him to catch the attention of Jada, a fiery girl with a sharp tongue and a gaze that could pierce through anyone. She wasn’t fazed by Rhys’ swagger or his roadman façade. In fact, she called him out on it immediately.

“Oi, what’s all this ‘I’m the boss’ talk, bruv?” Jada said, smirking as she leaned against the brick wall outside the club. Her dark curls framed her face, and the gold hoops in her ears caught the dim streetlights. “You ain't fooling me. You’re just another lad trying to play the game.”

Rhys couldn’t help but laugh, impressed by her directness. “Nah, I’m solid, Jada. You don’t know me like that.”

Jada raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. “Alright then. Prove it, fam. Take a walk with me.”

And so, they did. They spent the next few weeks growing closer, with Jada often pulling Rhys out of his comfort zone—making him think about things outside the tough-guy persona he had built. But that was what Rhys needed. He’d never had someone challenge him like that before.

They became inseparable. Jada was just as street-smart as Rhys, and together, they ruled the London streets. They’d walk hand-in-hand through the parks, both in their tracksuits, looking like they owned the place.

“You’re solid, Rhys,” she’d say, the praise always followed by a cheeky grin. “Just don’t get too cocky.”

Rhys grinned back. “Ain’t no such thing as too cocky when you’re with me, babe.”

Connor, the fiery and unpredictable member of the crew, found his match in Sienna, a girl with an even sharper attitude and a style that could’ve been pulled straight from a London streetwear magazine. She had platinum blonde hair, bold eyeliner, and a strut that made heads turn. But beneath that tough exterior, Sienna was sweet, loyal, and down for whatever her crew needed.

When they first met, Connor was quick to try to impress her. He’d never been the type to settle down, but there was something magnetic about Sienna. Maybe it was her ability to look him in the eye and call his bluff or the way she could hang with the boys without breaking a sweat.

“You think you’re all that, don’t you?” Sienna said one night, her eyes narrowing playfully as she crossed her arms. She stood in the doorway of a local warehouse, the music from inside barely audible over the sound of the street.

Connor shrugged, his grin never fading. “Why wouldn’t I be? I’ve got the look, the vibe. The streets respect me.”

Sienna took a step closer, her lips curling into a teasing smile. “Respect’s earned, fam. You ain’t earned it just by walking around like you own the place.”

Connor raised an eyebrow, impressed by her boldness. “You think you can teach me how it’s done?”

“I’m the only one who knows how it’s done around here,” she shot back.

They spent their days cruising around the streets together, from the markets in Camden to the nightclubs of Shoreditch. For Connor, Sienna was more than just a pretty face—she was a roadman in her own right, teaching him the ropes when he needed it.

Eventually, Connor realized he wasn’t just playing the game—he was in it for real. And Sienna was the partner he never knew he needed.

“You’re mad, Sienna,” he said one night as they chilled on the rooftop of a warehouse, gazing out at the city. “Proper roadman energy.”

“Always, fam,” she replied, looking at him with a grin. “You just gotta keep up.”

Liam was always the quiet one in the group. The introspective type. He’d never really fit in back in the U.S. as the thoughtful guy who was constantly overanalyzing everything. But now? Liam had fully embraced his new persona, and it felt natural. He’d found his own rhythm, and Tasha, a girl with soft curls and an easy smile, seemed to ground him in ways he never expected.

They met at a local pub one night when Liam was deep in conversation with Central Cee. Tasha had overheard Liam talking about the roads, about loyalty, and about the importance of family. It wasn’t long before she joined them.

“Oi, I heard what you said about loyalty,” Tasha said as she slid into the booth next to Liam. “I like that. Loyalty’s everything in this life.”

Liam was taken aback. Most people didn’t get it—not like Tasha did. But she understood. She had the same respect for the streets that he did, the same need to feel connected to something bigger than just himself.

They started spending more time together, and Liam found himself opening up to her in ways he hadn’t with anyone else. She pulled him out of his head, reminding him that sometimes the best way to live was to be present.

“I get you, Liam,” Tasha said one night as they walked through the back streets of East London, hand-in-hand. “You’re all about keeping things real. But you’ve gotta let go sometimes, bruv.”

Liam nodded, smiling softly. “I’m learning. You’re a good one, Tasha.”

Tasha smirked, giving him a playful nudge. “Ain’t no ‘good one’ about me. But you’re alright, Liam.”

Brayden was the most adventurous of the crew, always pushing the boundaries and diving headfirst into any situation. But it was Mia, a girl with bright green eyes and a sharp edge, who caught his attention. She was a force of nature, confident and quick-witted, with an easy laugh and a demeanor that made you believe she could handle anything thrown her way.

Brayden had always been the type to enjoy the thrill of the chase, but Mia? She was the chase. She didn’t take his cocky attitude or his charm seriously.

“What makes you think you can just walk up to me like that?” Mia asked, raising an eyebrow as Brayden tried to work his usual magic on her.

“I’ve got that roadman swag,” Brayden said, leaning in close with a confident grin. “And you? You’ve got that energy I can’t ignore.”

Mia smirked. “Alright, I’ll bite. But don’t think you can impress me that easily, bruv.”

It didn’t take long before Brayden was hooked. Mia challenged him in a way no one else did—pushing him to take risks, to not always play it safe. Together, they were unstoppable.

“Oi, Brayden, you’re all about showing off, but can you handle me?” Mia teased one night as they walked through a local alley, her voice light but full of challenge.

Brayden shrugged, a grin on his face. “You won’t even know what hit you.”

Mia rolled her eyes. “We’ll see, bruv.”

The Crew, Together

As time went on, Rhys, Connor, Liam, and Brayden—along with Jada, Sienna, Tasha, and Mia—became a family. A crew that ran the streets of East London, with their messy fringes and cocky grins, and they moved as one.

The bond between the boys had deepened, and with their girlfriends now a part of their world, their crew was unstoppable. Together, they hit the streets, ran the clubs, and lived the life they’d always dreamed of. They’d found their place, not just as roadmen, but as a unit.

There was no going back. They were part of something bigger now—something that couldn’t be broken. Their names were no longer American. They were Rhys, Connor, Liam, Brayden, and their girls were with them, each one just as fierce and loyal as their men.

Together, they owned London.

[heavysighing-dreamyeyes]

I Know How to Fall (So Teach Me to Fly Again)

My first Dick Grayson fic! (Hurt/Comfort calls to me) ~600 words

Dick Grayson has been falling since the night his parents died. A constant, spiraling free fall. There are moments he seems to float, lifted to a stagnant hover by his friends and family. But at the end of the night, when he's alone in the shadows and the sun doesn't quite reach him as it crests the buildings, he starts to fall all over again.

It's ironic, that a Flying Grayson can reach the apex of an arc and just wonder, what if he doesn't shoot his line? What if he didn't land? What if he just kept falling? What if he latched onto the growing void in his chest that never seemed to fill and embraced everything it brings?

It's not that he wants to find out what happens when he runs out of air, it's just that there's a rush in the fall. There's a thrill, in dancing on ledges and tossing his grapple at the last possible moment.

Dick loves what he does, really. He loves The Titans. Loves his family. Loves that he can do good in a world that so desperately needs good. But, it's hard, sometimes, being the 'good' one, the leader, the light. It's hard to not cross that line, to make sure beyond a doubt that the people he cares about won't get hurt.

He thinks he hides it well. And he does. From everyone but you. You notice the edge to his smile. The tightness in his shoulders. You're there when he feels like he's going to tip off that tightrope, lose his grip on the bars that seem to swing miles and miles above the rest of the world.

He's never had someone he's so implicitly trusted to catch him no matter what, when he lets go of the wire. Every other relationship he has, there's a price, a trade, a reason or a pedestal he has to balance on in order to be kept around.

But not with you. It's easy to find shelter in your presence. There's no expectations. No need to be the steady, sturdy beacon of what a hero should be.

When it's just you, falling doesn't feel so much like careening into an abyss. No, it feels like the first leap from a precariously high and wobbly platform filled with the trust that, if he misses his mark, the safety net of your arms will catch his fall.

Sometimes he wonders if this is what his parents felt, every time he reaches for your outstretched hand. There's a security, a knowledge, that you will not let him go, no matter how heavy he–or his burdens–are.

There is solace when he lies on the plush rug of your bedroom, picking at the fabric as you talk about your day. The smiles and jokes come easy to his lips when your giggles fill the air. Nothing feels forced or calculated at your side, it just feels right.

It gives him butterflies sometimes, the kind that used to gather in his stomach before the bright lights of the big top illuminated the ropes and wires of the trapeze. He can't help but chase the feeling when it leads straight to you– to home.

When he's exhausted and drained and patrol has worn him down to his bones, it's you who always soothes the warriness he feels. It's you, curled in his bed with Haley sleeping at your hip, where he buries his face to your chest. He easily lets you hold him close, keep him together.

He thinks this is where he's meant to be, because it's those moments, when you smile into his hair and kiss the crown of his head to welcome him home, where he truly feels like he's flying.

[the-winter-spider]

Say Don't Go | Part One

Pairings: College!Hockey star Bucky x Reader AU

Word Count: 2.9k

Warnings: Nothing really, pining, slight angst,

A/N: Yall, I can't stop with these AU, once i branched out from typical bucky fics 😅 im not sure if this is ant good, lemme know!

The arena is already buzzing as the hockey team files into the rink, everyone pumped for the big game. The team’s warming up, and from where you stand by the bench—water bottles in hand—you can feel the energy building. You’d taken the part-time photography job with the team to help cover college tuition, although at the beginning of the game you felt like a glorified water girl and while it meant juggling practices, games, and studying, it kept you close to your best friend, Steve.

To anyone watching, it would’ve seemed impossible that you and Steve grew up together. He’s a campus legend now, all bulked-up muscle and effortless charisma, captain of the university’s hockey team and the kind of guy people gravitate to without question. Meanwhile, you’re more comfortable with your nose in a book, an introvert who’s used to blending in. But back when you were kids, Steve was this tiny, sickly kid, the one no one really noticed—except for you. He’d always been your closest friend, even back then when it seemed like he’d never catch a break, and you’d been at his side through every scraped knee and cold. Loyalty was everything to Steve.

A couple of the guys on the team stop by to grab water, giving you nods and smiles as they pass. No one messes with you—everyone knows you’re off-limits, thanks to Steve. And that has its perks; it’s like you’re part of this little family, even if you’re not quite one of them. But lately, there’s been someone who’s become more than just another player in your eyes.

You glance up from refilling water bottles just in time to see Bucky Barnes, who’s over by the goal, tugging at his helmet strap. He catches you looking and grins, that easy, almost lazy smile that seems to light up his face effortlessly. You quickly look away, hoping he didn’t notice the warmth creeping up your cheeks.

“Hey, you ready for tonight?” Steve’s voice breaks into your thoughts, and you turn to see him lacing up his skates. He’s grinning, eyes alight with the confidence he’s built over years of hard work.

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” you reply with a small smile, trying to shake off the flutter in your chest from Bucky’s look.

Steve nudges you with his shoulder. “You know, sometimes I still can’t believe you’re here, working with the team.”

“Oh yeah?” you tease. “You think you’re too cool for me now, Rogers?”

He rolls his eyes but laughs, shaking his head. “Nah, no way. Just crazy to think back when I was the scrawniest kid on the block, you were the only one who’d even talk to me. And look at us now.”

“No Stevie…look at you,” you correct, smiling softly. “Captain of the hockey team. Practically a celebrity, im proud of you”

Steve shrugs, like it doesn’t matter much. “You’re still the one who got me here, you know. Can’t imagine doing this without you.”

It’s moments like these that remind you how much history you and Steve have. To everyone else, he’s untouchable, this strong, confident leader. But to you, he’s still that scrappy kid from Brooklyn who’d rather eat dirt than back down from a fight. And even now, with a dozen people depending on him, he still looks out for you like you’re his whole world.

“Good luck, Captain,” you say, giving him a small, sincere smile as he heads out onto the ice to join the team.

Just before he steps out, Steve pauses, glancing over his shoulder, and gives you a reassuring nod. “Stick around after, alright? You know Bucky would give me hell if you didn’t watch the whole game” There’s a gleam in his eye, something teasing but knowing.

You brush it off with a laugh, shaking your head as he skates off. But that feeling lingers as you turn back to your work, the excitement of the game mixing with something deeper. Because as much as you’re here for Steve, and of course the job..lately, there’s another reason that’s making these nights by the rink more important than ever.

As the game ramps up, you pull out your camera, leaning against the rink’s edge with your viewfinder pressed to your eye. You know deep down that you most likely got this job because of Steve, and it sometimes made you feel inferior that you didn’t get it all on your own accord, anything from Steve would never be malicious, self doubt was a bitch but any chance you get to shoot action shots is another step toward building your portfolio. Tonight, you’re focused, capturing every pass, every block, and, of course, every time Steve goes for a breakaway. But your camera always seems to find Bucky, catching him mid-skate, the intensity in his blue eyes as he lines up for a shot.

And every time he scores, it’s like he can’t help himself—he glances over to where you’re standing, as if he knows exactly where you’ll be. The crowd roars, girls scream his name, yet his gaze always cuts through the chaos, landing right on you for the briefest second before he skates back to his teammates. Each time, your heart stumbles a little, caught off-guard by that piercing blue gaze aimed right at you.

By the end of the game, the team secures a solid win, and the whole arena is alive with celebration. You’ve filled your camera’s memory with shots of the guys looking their best—sweaty, fierce, and triumphant—and even snagged a few shots of Steve and Bucky grinning like maniacs after a particularly close goal. Steve catches your eye from the ice and gives you a thumbs-up, the proud smile on his face making you grin back.

Later, you find yourself at the local bar with the team and some of their friends, the usual spot they head to after a victory. You sit near the back with your drink, watching everyone laugh and trade stories, your camera resting on the table with the freshly captured game photos. Bucky comes over with that same easy, confident grin, sliding into the seat beside you.

“Got some good shots of me tonight?” he teases, tipping his head toward the camera. “You always get my best angles, you know.”

You laugh, rolling your eyes. “Oh, don’t worry, Barnes. I think I got more than enough.”

“Oh yeah? And what do you think?” He leans in, his eyes warm and focused, his voice low. “Did I look good out there?”

Your cheeks flush under his attention, and you struggle to keep your cool. “Not bad, I guess,” you say, trying to be casual. “You only scored three times.”

He chuckles, but his gaze doesn’t leave yours, and you can feel your heart race in that silence that falls between you. There’s something unspoken, a magnetic pull that’s hard to ignore, and for a second, it’s like there’s no one else in the bar.

But the spell breaks when a girl from campus sidles up to Bucky, placing a hand on his shoulder with an almost possessive familiarity. “Bucky! Great game tonight,” she purrs, leaning in close. Bucky turns, flashing her the same easy smile he gave you, and you feel your stomach twist as he starts talking to her, his attention sliding away from you as if nothing happened. He’s charming, just as he is with you, and within seconds, he’s laughing with her, seemingly forgetting you’re even there.

You try to ignore the knot in your chest, focusing on the rim of your glass, but it’s impossible not to notice every time Bucky laughs with her or throws a charming smile in her direction. Other girls come up to him, too, congratulating him and throwing flirty glances, and he returns them all with that same, familiar ease. Each one feels like a little twist of the knife, a reminder that maybe you’re not as special as you thought. The way he looked at you on the rink, those lingering gazes, feels like a cruel joke now, just part of his routine.

When Steve finds you later, you’re staring down at your drink, trying to keep your emotions in check. He slides into the seat beside you, casting a glance over at Bucky, who’s still surrounded by admirers.

“Don’t let him get to you,” Steve says quietly, his eyes understanding. “Bucky…he’s got a lot to figure out, okay? Don’t take it personally.”

You nod, offering a half-hearted smile, but it doesn’t stop the sting. Because as much as you know Bucky’s reputation, you can’t help but wonder if maybe, just maybe, there was something real behind those looks he kept throwing your way. The kind of look that makes it impossible not to hope for more.

As you watch the guys celebrate the win, Natasha walks into the bar, her presence immediately drawing attention. She’s the girl Steve has been quietly in love with since freshman year, and one of the few people you trust implicitly. Unlike most of the girls on campus, Natasha is genuinely kind to you, never making you feel out of place even though you’re close with the hockey team. She greets you with a warm hug before heading toward the bar, and you see Steve’s gaze shift, his usual confidence faltering as he looks at her like she’s the only person in the room.

You decide it’s time to head out and catch Steve’s attention. “Hey, I think I’m gonna call it a night,” you say, giving him a small smile.

He immediately looks concerned. “You want me to walk you back? It’s late.”

But you catch his gaze drifting toward Natasha, and you can’t help but smile, nudging him. “Go get your girl, Rogers. I’ll be fine.”

Steve grins, his cheeks a little red. “Text me as soon as you get back, alright? Do you still have Find My Friends on?”

“Of course,” you reply with a reassuring smile. “Go on, best of luck.” He wraps you in a tight hug, then heads toward Natasha, glancing back once to make sure you’re okay before diving into a conversation with her.

As you step outside into the chilly night, you take a deep breath, feeling the evening air wash over you. The night is quiet, and you pull your jacket a little tighter as you begin walking back to your dorm. But just as you’re a few steps away, the bar door jingles, and you hear someone calling your name.

Turning around, you see Bucky rushing out, his eyes meeting yours with a playful glint. “You’re just gonna leave like that?” he asks, jogging up to you.

You cross your arms, smirking. “What are you doing? Aren’t you busy flirting with Tiffany?”

He lets out a short laugh, rolling his eyes. “Tiffany? She doesn’t matter to me”

Your stomach does a flip as he says that, and you’re sure he can see the blush creeping up your cheeks, as you breath out loudly “Okay….Why are you here then?”

“Because I saw you leave,” he says simply, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “And what, you thought I’d just let you walk back alone?”

“Oh, so Steve sent you?” you tease, raising an eyebrow.

“Nope,” he says, grinning. “Steve’s a little preoccupied locking lips with a certain redhead in the corner.”

That makes you laugh. “Well, then, I guess I should thank you for taking up the duty.”

He smiles, taking 3 long strides meeting your side “Its not a duty, its an honour”

You were thankful it was a little chilly so the red rising to your cheeks you could play off as coldness from the slight breeze. As you begin to walk side by side, Bucky shrugs out of his varsity hockey jacket and drapes it over your shoulders without a word. The scent of his cologne lingers in the fabric, warm and familiar, and you feel a surge of warmth not just from the jacket but from the gesture itself.

“So,” you say as you fall into step together, “your parents must be proud, huh? Star hockey player, university scholarship…”

Bucky’s expression falters slightly, his usual confidence slipping away. “My parents don’t care much about that kind of stuff,” he admits, his tone soft. “They don’t really… get it. Never come to games or anything.”

You glance over at him, surprised by his honesty. He rarely opens up, and you’re struck by the vulnerability in his voice. “I’m sorry, Bucky,” you say quietly, feeling a pang in your chest. “I didn’t know.”

He shrugs, brushing it off like it’s nothing, but there’s a sadness in his eyes that lingers. “It’s alright. Doesn’t matter much to me anymore. Great friends and company make up for it.”

You nod, feeling the weight of his words. “I get it, you know? My parents could care less about me or anything I do. It sucks, but as long as I have Steve…” You smile sadly, wishing things could be different.

Bucky raises an eyebrow. “You two are close.”

“He’s always been there,” you reply, glancing ahead at the dimly lit campus path. “Steve, hes been there through everything, no one knows me or my story better than him...he was the only one who stayed by my side.”

Bucky nods, but a flicker of something crosses his face. “Good friends are important,” he says, his voice low.

You look at him, curious about the thoughts behind his guarded expression. “Yeah, they really are,” you agree, sensing an unspoken weight between you.

Bucky runs a hand through his hair, his usual easygoing demeanor giving way to something more serious. “You just… never know who’ll be there when it counts, you know?”

“True,” you reply, your mind drifting to the fleeting moments of connection that seem so rare in college. “Sometimes it feels like everyone’s just looking out for themselves.”

He nods slowly, his eyes drifting to the ground. “Yeah, exactly.” Bucky stops walking, his gaze focused on the ground. “You deserve someone who’s there for you, not just when it’s convenient,” he says, almost to himself. “You’re too good for that.”

You swallow hard, your heart racing at the implications of his words. “What about you, Bucky? You deserve that too.”

He meets your gaze, and for a moment, the air between you feels charged with something unspoken. “Yeah, but I don’t really do that whole… relationship thing,” he admits, the usual bravado in his voice replaced by something softer.

“Why not?” you ask, curiosity bubbling to the surface.

Bucky runs a hand through his hair, frustration flickering across his features. “It’s complicated. I don’t want to hurt anyone, and I don’t know how to do that without messing it up.”

“Is that why you flirt with every girl in the room?” you tease lightly, trying to lighten the mood, but there’s an edge to your voice that betrays your discomfort.

Bucky chuckles but it’s humorless. “It’s easier to keep things casual. That way, no one gets hurt.”

You stop, your heart racing. “But what if you actually want something more?”

He takes a step closer, the space between you dwindling. “Then maybe I’m just scared I’ll mess it up with the one person who means something to me.”

Before you can respond, laughter erupts from the bar across the street, pulling you both from the moment. Bucky steps back, his hands shoved into his pockets, the weight of unspoken words lingering between you.

The two of you continue walking, the silence between you both comfortable and charged with something unspoken. Every now and then, your arm brushes against his, and he looks at you with that half-smile, the one that always makes your heart skip a beat.

Eventually, you arrive at the entrance to your dorm. The clock on the wall says 11:30, well past the time when boys are allowed inside. You stop just outside the door, turning to face him, and tug his jacket off to hand back to him.

“Thanks for walking me home,” you say softly. “You didn’t have to.”

Bucky grins, tucking his hands into his pockets as he takes a step closer, his gaze locking on yours. “Course I did,” he murmurs. “Couldn’t let a beautiful girl walk across campus by herself, now could I?”

You try to laugh it off, your cheeks warming. “Plenty of other beautiful girls you could’ve walked home instead.”

He takes another step closer, his expression turning serious. “There’s nobody like you,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper.

Your breath catches as his hand comes up, his thumb lightly brushing your cheek, tracing a line down to your bottom lip. His touch is gentle, his eyes soft, and for a moment, it feels like the world has narrowed down to just the two of you. The sounds of the night fade away, and all you can feel is his hand on your cheek, his gaze holding yours.

“Goodnight, doll,” he murmurs, his thumb brushing once more over your lip before he pulls away, his touch lingering even as he steps back.

You start to take off his jacket again, but he shakes his head, a slight smirk tugging at his lips. “Nah,” he says, “I wanna see you in that tomorrow.”

Before you can respond, he turns and begins to walk back toward the bar, his hands in his pockets, his pace slow and easy. As you open the door to step inside, you glance back one last time, catching sight of him as he spins around, grinning, and gives you a two-finger salute. You laugh, shaking your head as you slip inside, your heart still racing.

[spookwriter-xo]

Coppélia

Chapter 7 - The Lion's Den

Chapter Summary - Y/N Is urged to meet with some of the other women involved in high society to gain some close friends and she decides to drag Mia with her. Y/N starts to realize the boys may not be as friendly as they seem.

warnings: mentions of murder, Seonghwa injures reader (MDNI)

Series Masterlist

It had been almost two weeks since I had started living with the boys. Yunho and Jongho were still pretty stand-offish, not really bothering to make conversation unless absolutely necessary. Yeosang however, had gotten better.

I figured he was shy from the start, but after I thanked him for filling my wardrobe he started asking simple questions like how my day was. It wasn't a lot, but it was progress.

Hongjoong and San had backed off a little, not actively seeking me out like the remaining three. Mingi, Seonghwa, and Wooyoung were a lot more social, Wooyoung would come and find me the second they'd come home during the workweek to tell me everything before I left for the Society, at least what he could tell me anyway.

Seonghwa's gifts hadn't stopped, however, they had broadened from simple Gardenias (Though he kept fresh ones on the dresser in my room for me). Mingi often played piano after dinner, sometimes, he'd play something from the show or past shows just to see me dance.

He always smiled so brightly when I would.

Seonghwa was the one who suggested I go to a ladies brunch over dinner. I'd glance around at the others who made no objection.

"Ladies Brunch?" I ask.

"All the women that our allies are involved with get together once a month for a ladies brunch. You should go." Seonghwa explains, bringing his fork to his mouth.

"Are there many?" I ask.

"Normally there's around 10 or 11, depending on who's available," Seonghwa says. "You could bring a friend if you like, maybe Mia?"

I nod at the mention of Mia. It would be good to see her again and catch her up on everything in person. Besides meeting other women, hopefully around my age, would probably do me some good. Maybe some of them could explain what the men actually did.

And that's why I agreed.

"You think any of them are like... Murderers?" Mia asks me as we sit in her family's limousine. "I mean, they're involved in families known to be involved in the mafia so.."

She wasn't wrong. After I had invited her, Mia had one of Marks's friends dig up some information about some of the women we'd be meeting. Jeno Lee was always pretty good at that.

Kazuko Takanashi was the fiancé to the CEO of the SVT Association, Choi Seungcheol. A large modeling and fashion company much like the one my father owned, their rival if you will. She was beautiful and worked as a model for their more expensive pieces. I assumed her husband-to-be would only allow it as such.

Park Minji was born into high society, her father running a car company. She was dating one of the leaders of SKZ Foundation, a military company, Seo Changbin. She didn't do much, but there were rumors that she was an excellent hacker.

Those were the only ones I could remember from the list, but I knew there were so many more. I recognized some of the companies, a little surprised some of them were still running.

We arrived at the club we were to meet at, one owned by the husband of one of the women we were to meet, Nari.

"Mia, don't say anything rude," I warn, getting out of the car.

"I'm not promising anything." She quips, following me.

We head inside, it's empty aside from the small group of maybe six women sitting at a long table, laughing and drinking already. I glance at Mia who looks back at me, gesturing with her head to go towards them.

I hesitate before approaching slowly. Kazuko was there, and Minji too. They looked so much friendlier in person. I clear my throat, causing one I didn't recognize to look up. She offers me a kind smile before standing.

"You must be Y/N!" She says, approaching the two of us. "And you're Mia Hua right?" Mia nods in response.

"I'm Kate. Come sit." She says, gesturing to some empty seats. "It's just us today, the others couldn't make it."

I take a seat beside Minji, her dyed blonde hair shimmering in the overhead light. Mia sits on my other side, shifting in her seat. Kate starts to introduce everyone, and my memory comes back to me; Minji, Jaehwa, Asami, Kazuko, Liv, and Kate herself. Easy enough.

I knew Asami was the oldest based on what I remembered. She was born into high society much like Minji however, she runs her own company, a tech company alongside a friend of hers, Taeyong.

Jaehwa was the younger sister of Nari, I knew she had joined the military for two years because she 'wanted to scratch an itch'. I could tell it paid off, her tan skin and muscular frame seemed oddly attractive.

Liv was a part of the TBZ Association, a law firm. I could tell she was studying me the minute I sat down, her eyes unmoving and unblinking as they stared me down. Like a predator hunting prey.

"So, ATZ Corp chose you huh?" Jaehwa asks, her voice deep. "I heard you're a dancer."

"Ballerina." I correct, noticing the quirk of Asami's eyebrow. "I'm a Ballerina for the Ballet Society."

Kazuko takes a sip of her drink. "I went to one of your shows, you're quite good." She says, glancing at me. There was something comforting about her words, yet I kept my guard up.

"What's the show?" Minji asks, her Australian accent thick.

"Coppèlia I'm pretty sure." Kazuko answers, leaning back in her seat.

"Never heard of it." Jaehwa says, elbow now propped up on the table.

I listen to the women talk. They seem friendly enough, and at least three of them are anyway. Asami looks at me before finally speaking.

"Something you wanna say?" She asks, her eyes boaring into mine. "If you have questions you can ask."

A part of me felt relieved she'd said that, opening a door for all the questions I'd had piled up to spill out. Kate gave me a reassuring look, nodding slightly for me to speak.

"I'm... It's been a long time since I've been in this life." I start. "It's all so different now.. And they guys won't tell me anything no matter how much I ask."

"It was like that for me too." Kazuko says. "I was born in the bronx. When I met Seungcheol, none of his friends or even him would tell me anything about what they did even though I grew up on the other end of it all."

I listened to her. These women had come from all different parts of society. Some are working their way up, and some are fighting to survive even now. Maybe this wasn't such a bad idea.

"When Seungcheol asked me to marry him, I told him no unless he told me everything." Kazuko continues. "Eventually, he caved when he realised I was serious."

"So I threaten them?" I ask.

"Definitely don't do that!" Liv laughs, finally speaking. Her voice was sweet. Maybe she was just shy. "ATZ don't take nicely to threats."

"So what do I do?" I ask.

"Ask us." Kate says, reaching a hand over. "We won't hide anything from you."

I nod, taking a deep breath before glancing at Mia, who seems a little too invested now.

"Be honest with me. Do they hurt people?"

"Obviously, it's the mafia." Asami says. "We have to kill to keep those close to us safe. Greed is evil, and those who let it consume them will always try to take what isn't theirs."

I stare at Asami, and the bluntness in her tone causes goosebumps to coat my skin.

"The boys kill, yes, but most of the time it's business or for protection reasons. There's some corrupt companies out there, ones that kill the weak for sport. Like Belluxe." Kazuko spits, my head snaps to her hefore quickly composing myself. My fathers company? Killing for sport?

"After everything that happened with Aurora, I'm surprised they decided to let another one in." Jaehwa says, causing me to perk up at the name.

"You knew her?" I ask.

"Of course we did." Liv says, her eyes softening slightly. "I miss her sometimes... She was always a voice of reason."

"She was a fool." Asami says. "Stuck her nose in something she shouldn't have. That's what got her killed."

My blood ran cold at Asami's words. Her tone was so indifferent, like she was angry.

Aurora was killed? Because she was investigating something? But what?

"Asami!" Kate scolds.

"It's the truth!" Asami barks. "Nothing would have happened if she'd just-" Asami stops herself and lets out a sigh before standing. "Excuse me." She mutters, heading off in the direction of the bathroom.

"You'll have to excuse her." Minji says quietly to me. "She cares a lot more then she lets on."

"Aurora was killed?" Mia asks. I'd spoken to her about Aurora the night of my first day living with ATZ. She was just as curious as I was.

"She was investigating some suspicious activity even when Hongjoong told her not to." Jaehwa says. "She got too far in and ended up getting herself killed."

"What was the suspicious activity?" I ask, glancing at Kazuko.

"Do you remember the Cobra?" She asks us. Mia and I nod. The Cobra was a serial killer who caused some grief to a lot of businesses years back. He'd kill runners, undercover workers, and sometimes even leaders in gruesome ways to get his message across. His tell; all of his victims were found with poison in their system.

"But The Cobra disappeared when we were kids?" Mia questions.

"He came back. Briefly." Kate says.

"Well, there were rumours." Liv corrects. "That's what Aurora was investigating."

Aurora was trying to catch a serial killer and was killed when she got too close? Why didn't the boys tell me this? Was there more to it?

"Enough about Aurora." Jaehwa murmers as Asami returns.

The topic shifted rather quickly.

It was almost 6pm when I returned back to the estate. Seonghwa was sitting in the living room, waiting for my return.

"How was it?" He asks, not looking up from the book he was reading, Frankenstein.

"Enlightening," I answer, my tone indifferent. I was upset at them. I'd learned more from women I'd just met in a few hours than the 8 men I had been living with for almost 2 weeks.

The girls had told me all about their work, giving me some idea of what was going on in the basement as well as outside of the house that I probably would never see.

Seonghwa recognizes my tone and sighs, marking his page in his book before setting it down on the coffee table. He stands, moving in front of me now, staring down at me with a cold look.

"How much do you know?"

"Enough," I answer, staring back up at him, I hear footsteps thud to a stop behind me, whoever it was listening closely. "Funny how I can trust complete strangers more than the men I'm supposed to be with."

"If you don't trust us, why did you come back?" The voice, Hongjoong, says from behind me. I don't jump at his voice, only turning to look at him. I had nowhere else to go. The answer was as simple as that.

On the second day of my stay, I woke up to all my things from my old apartment tucked away in the corner of my room. Wooyoung had gone to collect my things and speak to my landlord that night, at least that's what he said.

"You know why," I say, my blood boiling at the teasing grin on his face. Here we go again, being laughed at. Maybe I should have stayed at Mia's tonight.

"Dinners ready!" Wooyoung calls out from the other room. "Is Y/N home?" He asks, poking his head out from behind the connecting archway.

"You could have told me she was killed." I blurt out, my gaze on Wooyoung but my words are aimed at all of them. "Did you think I couldn't handle it?" I say, looking up at Seonghwa once again.

"They told you?" Seonghwa asks, his voice low.

"Yes, because unlike you they recognize that I can handle myself." I snap, poking his chest. Big mistake. He snatches my wrist, gripping it tightly. My eyes widen and I try and pull away, Hongjoong and Wooyoung make no move to step in.

"You listen to me," Seonghwa says, his voice coming out as a growl. The gentleman I knew was long gone now. There was something sinister in his eyes as he looked down at me, the size difference suddenly feeling a lot larger the tighter he held my wrist. "You won't ask any more questions about what happened. You will not go investigating it yourself and you certainly will not ask others. That includes our housekeepers." He says quietly, his voice low and threatening.

I glance at Wooyoung, his face void of emotion as he watches from the archway. Shit.

"If I find out you have, you'll never step foot from this house ever again. Say goodbye to Mia, the Society, everything." He warns.

"Seonghwa." Hongjoong finally speaks up. Seonghwa's knuckles are white from how tightly he was gripping my wrist. "Let her go. She's gotten the hint." Hongjoong says, taking a step forward.

Seonghwa lets go and I pull back, bumping into Hongjoong. I jump away from him, backing up into the foyer. I stare back at them with wide eyes, clutching my wrist as they stare back at me. A sick feeling overcomes me as I mutter out three words before scurrying up the stairs.

"I'm not hungry."

Mingi had come upstairs to check on me a few hours later. He carried a plate of food in his hands and his expression adorned a pouty expression. Surprisingly, I let him in.

He sets the plate of food down on my dresser before taking a seat on the loveseat by the window.

"Wooyoung told us what happened." He says, holding his hand out and glancing down at my wrist. I hesitate for a moment before letting him take it. His touch was gentle as he examined the light bruise, his eyebrows furrowing. "I didn't think Seonghwa would ever hurt you.."

"Yeah, me too." I huff, looking down at the ground. "I guess I was wrong to trust you all so quickly."

"Trust is human nature, it's who we gift it to that could come with consequences." He says softly, moving his hand from my wrist and holding my hand in his. I feel some butterflies flutter in my stomach as he does. "I'll beat him up for you tomorrow if you want." He says, causing me to snort.

"There's no need." I laugh, squeezing his hand which makes his eyes sparkle. At least I still had Mingi. I let out a soft sigh, moving to sit beside him. "Why are you guys so hesitant to tell me about her?" I ask, staring at the floor.

"Some of us want to," Mingi says honestly. "But it's a sensitive topic." He adds.

"I understand that," I say. "But that doesn't mean I'm not curious. Why can't I look into her death? I know it has something to do with The Cobra." I look at him and he looks at me.

"Why do you say that like it's personal?" He asks, his deep voice breaking through the brief silence.

I hesitate again for a moment. "Because it is," I say. Maybe if I'm honest with him, he'll be honest with me. But I didn't want to tell him the whole story, it hurt too much to even think about.

Then the realization hit me.

That's why they didn't want to talk about Aurora. It was too personal. It brought feelings to the surface that they wanted to forget about. It made sense now, and a feeling of guilt settled in my stomach.

Mingi must have picked up on my conflict of emotions, as he cups my cheek to bring me back to him.

"I won't stop you from finding answers." He says softly. "But that doesn't mean the others won't try. And I can't protect you if that happens."

I nod in response. It's like he knew already, my mind went back to the night we first met. He'd known I grew up in high society, did he know what happened to Chaluai?

"Thank you," I whisper, our faces not resisting the magnetic pull.

"For what?" He murmurs, not pulling away as he glances down at my lips.

"For understanding," I say as our noses brush.

Then, our lips met. The kiss was featherlike like he was scared to hurt me any further. When we pull away, he rests his forehead on mine briefly.

"Give them time." He says softly, stroking my cheekbone with his thumb. "They'll stop taking you for granted eventually."

With that, he stands, pulling away from me slowly as if a part of him was telling him to stay.

I watch him as he heads towards the door, offering him a goodnight before he shuts the door behind him, leaving me in the silence of my thoughts once again.

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[writingforstraykids]

Letters Of Love - Chan🖤

Pairing: Chan x gn!Reader (poly!skz)

Word Count: 978

Summary: Your anniversary with your beloved boys makes you think of how to show them how much you love them best. Soon, you settle on sending them a message and picture in relation to one of your favorite days spent with them - starting with a sunset beach walk with Channie.

Warnings/Tags: fluff, poly!skz

A/N: Happy one year, guys🤭🥳🖤🖤

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

Minho | Changbin | Hyunjin | Jisung | Felix | Seungmin | Jeongin

You sit comfortably on the oversized sofa in the living room, your legs tucked beneath you as a soft throw blanket drapes over your shoulders. The house is quiet except for the soft hum of the evening outside. The warm, ambient light from a lamp nearby casts a golden glow on your laptop screen as you scroll through your photo library, smiling at the memories that flash before your eyes.

The idea had come to you a few days ago, sparked by a simple desire to celebrate the bond you share with each of the boys. With your anniversary around the corner, you wanted to do something meaningful—not grand or flashy, but something that speaks to the heart of what they all mean to you. So, you decided to put together a collection of messages, each paired with a favorite photo of yours. One for each of them.

It’s not just about celebrating the years spent together, but a way to show them how much every single moment counts—how deeply woven into your life they’ve become. It’s easy to get caught up in the whirlwind of life, schedules, and everything in between, but when you sit down and look back at these snapshots, the memories are filled with so much warmth that it almost makes you tear up.

Each picture carries its own story, a unique reminder of shared smiles, whispered conversations, and unexpected adventures. It feels like the perfect way to say, “I remember. I see you. And I treasure these moments more than words can say.”

Choosing where to start wasn’t easy, but in the end, you settled on Chan. Leader. Rock. One of your favorite people. The one who somehow always knows exactly how to make you feel heard and seen. Your eyes linger on one particular image that makes your heart flutter—a photograph of a breathtaking sunset on a secluded beach.

The sky is painted with vivid hues of orange, pink, and deep purple, casting a magical light across the gentle waves lapping at the shore. In the foreground, Chan is beside you, his broad smile lighting up the scene as much as the setting sun. He’s looking at the camera, but his body is slightly angled toward you, as if caught in a moment of joy, mid-laughter. His tousled hair frames his face, the salty breeze lifting it slightly, and his eyes crinkle warmly, filled with a playful energy and contentment. The two of you are barefoot, shoes forgotten somewhere in the sand, and you’re holding hands, your arm swinging lightly as if you’d just been spinning around together, giddy from the beauty of the evening and each other's presence.

You can almost hear the sound of his voice from that day—the way he kept pointing out how the colors of the sky matched your favorite shade of coral or how he’d sneakily race you to the water’s edge just to let the waves catch you by surprise. It was one of those spontaneous days, a perfect pocket of time when everything aligned, and all that mattered was the way the world seemed to slow down around the two of you.

The day had started unassumingly, with a casual suggestion from Chan to go for a drive after a long day of work. There had been no real destination in mind until you noticed the telltale sparkle of sunlight reflecting off the distant waves. Without a second thought, he turned the car toward the coast. When you arrived, the beach was nearly empty—just you, him, and the endless expanse of sand and sea. As the sun began its slow descent, painting the sky with the most brilliant shades, you both kicked off your shoes and wandered along the shoreline. You talked about everything and nothing—dreams, music, life, and silly inside jokes that had the two of you bursting into laughter.

As the colors deepened and the first stars peeked through, he pulled you close, his arm wrapping around your shoulders, and for a moment, it felt like the rest of the world didn’t exist. Just you, him, and the rhythm of the waves. It was then that he set up the camera timer, capturing that perfect image, your smiles forever frozen against the backdrop of the sun-kissed sky.

The smile on your lips softens as you relive the memory, fingers hovering over the keyboard. You take a deep breath and begin to type out a message for Chan, the words flowing easily from your heart. He’s someone who would understand the significance of this little project of yours—your way of saying, “I’m grateful. For you, for us, for all the tiny pieces that have come together to build this beautiful mosaic of memories.”

Message to Channie Baby🖤:

Hey Channie,

I came across this picture today, and it made me think of one of my favorite memories with you. Remember that sunset beach stroll? The way you just decided to take us there on a whim? I think that’s one of the things I love most about you—the way you turn ordinary moments into something unforgettable.

That evening, I remember feeling like everything was just… right. The world seemed quieter, softer, and it was like we had all the time in the world just to be ourselves. I know we’ve had so many amazing experiences together, but something about that day stands out to me. Maybe it’s because it felt so simple, just us, the ocean, and the sky. But it’s one of those moments that I’ll always cherish.

Thank you for always making life brighter, for your laughter and for the way you see beauty in everything. I’m so grateful to have you by my side—not just during sunsets, but every single day.

Happy anniversary, Channie. Here’s to many more sunsets together.

Love you, always.

Minho | Changbin | Hyunjin | Jisung | Felix | Seungmin | Jeongin

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[signedkoko]

can you do

asmo x fem! reader x fizz reader feels like a third party

In fact, I love your writing, keep doing what you are doing <3

Asmodeus X Reader X Fizzarolli [Comfort]

In which you are in a lovely relationship with the two, but can't help feeling left out from time to time.

They were both so caring and lovely

Of course, you were as well, you were mainly the one who took care of your house and made it more of a home, kept everything cozy

Because both of them worked so much, it meant you were able to spend time on your hobbies- as a job or not

Combined, you were all more than wealthy, so why make you work if you didn't have much you were excited for?

As much as you enjoyed being home, there were some perks you always envied

The two of them were superstars- or, well, Fizz was, Asmodeus had the title of a sin so that kept him in fame as well

But you never really did much to put you in a spotlight

That in itself was fine, the fame they shared came with enough creeps

Except more than once media ignored your existance in the relationship

Piles upon piles of articles about Fizz and Asmodeus being together, the public announcement at Mammon's pageant, even billboards and trending tags on social media

It was like everyone knew they were together, and left you out of the picture because, as one article put it, you were 'more or less a nobody'

Eventually, any dinners or events you went out to become a flurry of attention from others towards them both

To the point where others yelled at you for being in the way of a shot or assuming you were just another paparazzi

It was eating at you, and they knew it, but they weren't sure how to change that

Eventually, Asmodeus and Fizz agree that until everyone slaps your name along theirs, they would just have to show you off

Suddenly Fizz is asking you to help him in his acts to get some eyes on you, and giving you a nice kiss right in front of the crowd to thank you for your assistance

Asmodeus is having you plus one him to events he usually goes to alone, especially red carpets, and keeps his arm around your waist at all times

Honestly, it's a lot for you, but they only do it until it works

Eventually titles change to something along the lines of...

" Clown pageant star Fizzarolli shows off partner to live audience: Everything you need to know! "

" Lust ring leader Asmodeus appears on the red carpet with sinners: who are they?!? "

Much better

Author's Note - I may or may have not added LORE so I hope you still enjoy!!